#even the background is making me emotional

[eu-nicola]

the fastest driver part 3

summary: you are a young and talented driver, who begins your journey in Formula 1 with Ferrari. despite your undeniable ability, you are constantly relegated to the background due to the Scuderia's strategies, which always favor your teammate, Charles Leclerc

warnings: take of pills

word counter: 7364

author's note: english is not my first language, this is from an amazing request, thanks for the comments 🤍

tags: @ilovechickenwings @amortentiaaaa @ananyasribughead @supertrashbread @amalialeclerc @rawr-123s-stuff @wierdflowerpower @malvikareader @freyathehuntress @sweetmuffynsblog @vjbillno

Endless hours passed after the accident before the first clear update about your condition reached the media and the paddock. Everyone was anxiously waiting for news about your health. The uncertainty left fans, journalists, and especially those who truly knew you in a state of tense anticipation.

Finally, a statement from the hospital's medical team brought some relief: you were stable and conscious. While initial tests had ruled out serious spinal injuries or significant fractures, the impact had been severe, leaving you with a moderate concussion and several internal bruises that required monitoring. What concerned the doctors most were the potential psychological and emotional aftereffects: the nature of the crash, the impact, and all the built-up stress could take a toll later.

Hours later, you woke up in a hospital room softly lit by the afternoon light. Everything was quiet except for the rhythmic beeping of the monitor beside your bed. Your body felt heavy, like it was filled with lead, and the headache was sharp and constant. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you noticed someone sitting nearby.

It was Charles. He was there, his hands clasped in front of his mouth, as if praying or just trying to calm his own nerves. When he saw you stir slightly, he lifted his head, and his expression changed a mix of relief and worry crossed his face.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, as if he didn’t want to scare you. “Thank God.”

You hadn’t expected to see him there. In fact, you hadn’t expected to see anyone. And yet, here he was.

“Charles…” you tried to speak, but your voice came out as barely a whisper.

“Shhh, don’t talk too much. The doctors said you need to rest.”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, ignoring his warning, even though just talking felt like needles stabbing your skull.

He shrugged, offering a light but sincere smile.  

“Someone had to make sure you were okay.”

Charles stayed by your side for hours, even when the doctors came in and out to check on you. He answered questions from the journalists crowding outside the hospital, desperate for a statement, and refused requests from photographers trying to get a shot of you. There was something unusually warm and protective about the way he acted.

As you lay back, eyes closed to avoid making the headache worse, you heard his voice.

“You scared me, you know? I’ve never seen anything so…” He paused, searching for the right word. “So violent. Not since Jules. And when I saw the crash on the screen, I thought the worst.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him. There was sincerity in his face, something you hadn’t expected.

“I’m okay… sort of.” You tried to joke, but the pain turned it into a grimace.

“No, you’re not okay. But you will be. You have to be.”

As Charles stayed with you, messages started pouring in. Your phone sat on the bedside table, just out of reach, and Charles offered to read some.

“Everyone’s worried about you. Here’s one from Lando… and even one from Toto. Seems like the entire F1 world is waiting for you to get better.”

“Who else?” you asked, almost dreading the answer.

Charles scrolled through, his expression hardening briefly before softening again.

“Max,” he said simply.

Your heart stopped for a moment. You didn’t know what to expect. Since the accident, you’d assumed Max was too caught up in his own world to care, but the fact that he’d written at all was enough to twist your stomach.

“What does it say?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent, though you knew Charles could see right through you.

He hesitated before answering.

“‘Hope you’re okay. Sorry I wasn’t there sooner. Let me know if you need anything.’”

The neutrality of the words didn’t match the intensity of what you felt hearing them. You closed your eyes, trying to process it all. What did that message even mean? Was it just courtesy, or was there something more behind those words?

Charles noticed your discomfort and set the phone aside.

“You don’t have to reply if you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you said quickly, though part of you knew that wasn’t true.

As night fell, Charles finally said goodbye, promising to return the next day. There was something comforting about his presence, how he’d set aside any competitiveness or formality just to be there for you. Yet, when you were left alone, the thoughts began to overwhelm you.

The crash, the messages, the worries it all tangled into a mess of emotions you couldn’t unravel. The only thing clear was that while you were physically stable, emotionally, you were far from okay.

After that day in the hospital, Charles became a constant presence in your life. His support wasn’t limited to encouraging messages or occasional visits. He went beyond that. Where others saw a moral obligation or an opportunity to score points with the media, he saw something else: a chance to show you that you weren’t alone.  

The medical team made it clear you could return to racing, but not without certain restrictions. You had to stick to a strict combination of medications after every race: anti-inflammatories, painkillers, and supplements to manage the physical and mental stress you still felt after the accident. Charles was the first person to offer to help you with this. It wasn’t his responsibility, but he seemed to take on the role without hesitation.  

The first race after the accident was a mental and physical challenge. As you prepared to get back in the cockpit, fear swirled in your chest. The accident was fresh in your memory, and even though you knew you were capable, there was a shadow of doubt you couldn’t shake.  

The day before the race, Charles showed up at your hotel. He had a small bag in hand and a calm expression, almost as if it was meant to soothe you.  

"I thought you might need this," he said, placing the bag on the table.  

Inside, there was a box of relaxing tea, a small book about mental strategies in sports, and a handwritten note. When you opened it, you found a simple phrase: "You’re stronger than you think."  

"Thank u," you said, moved by the gesture.  

"You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to know I’m here, okay? If you need to talk, if you need anything..."  

You nodded, grateful for his sincerity. For a long time, you’d felt alone in this world. It was strange to realize someone was willing to stand by your side without asking for anything in return.  

Race day was a whirlwind. Even though you tried to stay calm, every time you sat in the car, the memory of the crash resurfaced. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, reminding yourself you’d done this thousands of times before, that you were capable—one of the best.  

The race wasn’t easy, but you finished in a solid fifth place, a result any other driver would’ve considered a success under the circumstances. When you got out of the car, exhausted but relieved, Charles was the first to approach you.  

"Well done," he said, patting your shoulder.  

After every race, Charles made sure you followed the medical protocol. Sometimes, when you forgot the pills, he’d show up holding the box, reminding you that your health came first.  

"How do you even know I haven’t taken them?" you asked one day, half-joking.  

"Because I know you well enough to know you hate depending on this stuff," he said with a smile, handing you the water and pills.  

It was strange how his presence had gone from sporadic to constant. He wasn’t just there for the serious moments; he also found ways to make you laugh, to lighten the weight on your shoulders.  

It wasn’t something you’d planned or even imagined after everything you’d been through, but your friendship with Charles was good for you. So much so that you felt comfortable asking him something after noticing he’d been off for a while. You’d seen his behavior become quieter than usual, even in the paddock, where he usually managed to keep up appearances in front of the cameras.  

"Are you okay? You seem... off."  

His response came almost immediately.  

"Do you have time to talk?"  

You invited him to your place, where you saw a different side of Charles. He’d shed his usual composure and looked... vulnerable, almost like the facade he kept in public had cracked.  

"Thanks for this," he said, sitting on the small couch as you handed him a bottle of water.  

"You don’t have to thank me, Charles. What’s going on?"  

He sighed, fiddling with the cap of the bottle before speaking.  

"It’s... complicated. Ferrari doesn’t feel like my team anymore."  

You frowned, surprised by his words.  

"What do you mean?"  

"Since Lewis joined this year, everything changed. I knew it would be different, it’s Lewis Hamilton, of course but I didn’t think it’d be like this," he confessed, his voice low, almost a whisper. "I feel like everything revolves around him. The strategies, the resources, even the engineers’ attention... It’s like I’m a shadow in my own team."  

You felt a pang in your chest hearing that. It was almost an exact replica of what you’d felt when you shared a team with him at Ferrari.  

"Charles... you don’t know how much I get it," you said, sitting across from him. "That feeling of being invisible, like your efforts don’t matter... I went through the same thing with you."  

He looked up, surprised by your honesty.  

"Really?"  

"Yeah. Do you remember all those team orders? All those moments where no matter how fast I was, they always put me aside to favor you. It’s... frustrating. It makes you question everything you do."  

Charles nodded slowly, processing your words.  

"I guess I never saw it from your perspective. I always thought the team’s decisions were fair, but now... now I know what it feels like."  

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.  

"Charles, I know how hard this is. But what you need to remember is that your talent doesn’t depend on them. Ferrari is just one team, one stage in your career—it doesn’t define who you are as a driver."  

"How did you deal with it?" he asked, genuinely curious.  

"At first, I didn’t," you admitted. "I kept everything inside, let the frustration eat me up... until I couldn’t take it anymore. But I learned something: you can’t let them take away what you love about this sport. If Ferrari doesn’t value you the way they should, then prove your worth on the track. Force them to see you."  

Charles nodded slowly, as if your words were beginning to sink in.  

"It’s easier said than done," he said, with a bitter smile.  

"I know. But I also know you have the talent to do it."  

The conversation went on for hours, shifting from serious topics to shared memories and stories from your days at Ferrari. It was strange, but comforting, to share that space with him. He’d gone from being the rival who overshadowed you at your lowest to someone you could fully trust.  

When he finally stood to leave, Charles paused at the door and looked at you with an expression you hadn’t seen before.  

"Thank you for this. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you."  

"I’m always here. You know that."  

As the door closed behind him, you couldn’t help but smile. Charles was so much more than you’d ever thought. And somehow, he’d brought out the best in you too.

While you were helping Charles find his way in a team that relegated him to second place, you couldn’t ignore the fact that your own demons were still lurking. And, as if that wasn’t enough, Max remained a constant presence both on the track and in your personal life.  

Since your move to McLaren, the rivalry with Max had reached a new level. If before you shared moments of camaraderie and confidences, now every interaction was loaded with tension. And not just on the track.  

The championship was on fire. You and Max were leading the standings, swapping first and second place race after race. On every circuit, every corner, and every straight, it felt like only the two of you existed. It didn’t matter who else made it to the podium; the battle was always between you and him.  

During qualifying, both of you pushed to the limit, but an incident in Q3 left Max without a lap time. As soon as he got out of the car, Max stormed straight toward you, visibly furious.  

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, his voice sharp as he closed the distance between you in the paddock.  

“What was what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, though you knew exactly what he was referring to.  

“You blocked me on my flying lap.”  

“Max, you were too far behind when I started my lap. I didn’t block you.”  

“Of course you did!” he insisted, stepping even closer. His blue eyes burned with a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.  

The argument caught the attention of journalists and members of both teams. You knew that one wrong word could make headlines the next day, so you chose to stay calm.  

“If you have a problem, take it up with the stewards, not me,” you said before turning and walking away, leaving Max with the words stuck in his throat.  

But the tension wasn’t confined to the track. It had started to bleed into your personal lives. Even though both of you tried to avoid each other outside of race weekends, coincidences were inevitable especially at sponsor events or official meetings.  

At one of these events, an FIA gala in Monaco, Max couldn’t resist looking for you in the crowd. When he finally spotted you, you were talking to Charles, laughing at something he’d said. The sight seemed to ignite something in Max, and he couldn’t hold back as he approached.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, cutting into the conversation.  

Charles glanced at you, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution, before stepping back to let you decide.  

“What do you want, Max?” you asked, trying to keep your voice neutral.  

“You and Charles, what’s going on between you two?” he asked quietly, though his tone carried an accusatory edge.  

“What kind of question is that?” you replied, crossing your arms.  

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m losing it, but… every time I see you two together, I can’t help thinking that…”  

“That what?” you interrupted, annoyed. “That maybe someone else can actually support me and understand me in this chaos that you chose to ignore?”  

Max pressed his lips together, clearly feeling the sting of your words. But instead of responding, he looked away and muttered:  

“You still know how to twist everything around.”  

The conversation was left unfinished, but the night didn’t end there. Later, as you tried to avoid him, you found Max alone on the terrace of the venue, staring out at the sea, his figure illuminated by the lights.  

“Why do you do this?” you asked, walking toward him. Your tone was no longer defiant but tired.  

“Do what?” he asked without looking at you.  

“Show up, disappear, demand things from me that you can’t even give yourself. You’re still with her, and yet…”  

Max closed his eyes, as if your words were too heavy to bear.  

“I don’t know how to handle this,” he admitted finally, turning to face you. “You and me… I don’t know how to handle it.”  

“Then maybe you should stop trying,” you said, though your voice cracked at the end.  

The silence between you was deafening. Too many unsaid emotions, too many decisions both of you refused to make. Finally, Max stepped back.  

“It’s easier said than done, isn’t it?”  

And with that, he left, leaving you alone on the terrace, feeling like the two of you were trapped in a vicious cycle neither of you knew how to escape.  

In the days that followed, you tried to focus on racing and your friendship with Charles, who had become a kind of refuge in the chaos. But every time you saw Max, every time your eyes met in the paddock, you felt the storm lingering, waiting for the right moment to break again.  

The rivalry on the track only grew more intense. Max and you raced as if every race was the last, as if the championship depended on who was stronger, more determined, more ruthless. But off the track, you both continued to grapple with the same internal conflict: what you felt for each other and what the world expected of you.  

You and Max were the top contenders for the title, and every race turned into a war. The media called it “the battle of the century,” comparing it to the legendary Senna-Prost rivalry. Every overtake, every strategy, every word in a press conference was scrutinized.  

At the Brazilian Grand Prix, things came to a head. From the first lap, the fight between you and Max was fierce. You knew every one of his tricks, every weakness, every strength. There were moments when the cars seemed to touch, pushing the limits of competition to the extreme.  

On lap 43, you attempted an overtake on the inside of Turn 1, but Max, in his trademark aggressive style, shut the door almost recklessly. Your front tires brushed his, and though both of you managed to maintain control, the incident was enough to set off commentators and social media.  

“This is unacceptable!” your engineer shouted over the radio. “We’re reporting it.”  

But you didn’t want to win the championship through a penalty.  

“Leave it. I’ll settle it on the track,” you said, with a determination that surprised even yourself.  

In the end, you finished second, behind Max, but the battle was epic. Fans were divided, some siding with you, others defending Max. But in your mind, one thought started to take root: maybe you’d had enough of this world.  

After that race, you decided to take a break. You flew back to your hometown to spend time with your family, seeking comfort in their presence. One night, sitting in the garden of your parents’ house, you opened up to your mom.  

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” you admitted, staring at the stars. “Every race feels like a battle not just on the track, but inside me, too.”  

Your mom, always wise and patient, looked at you with gentle understanding.  

“Then why do you keep going?”

You stayed silent for a moment, searching for the words.  

“Because it’s all I’ve ever known. Since I was a kid, my entire world has revolved around racing. But lately… lately, I feel like I want something more. I want a normal life, a family. I want to stop fighting all the time.”

“What’s stopping you?.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I don’t know what that life would look like, or who it would be with.”

It was the first time you’d said those words out loud. The idea of giving up Formula 1, of walking away from everything you’d worked so hard for, was terrifying but also freeing.  

You couldn’t help but think of Max. Even though your relationship was broken, and the rivalry had reached its peak, there was still something about him pulling you in. But the question that haunted you was: did he feel the same?  

Max was still with his partner, at least publicly. But his actions, his looks, even his comments during races, hinted at something more. Could you build a life with someone who seemed incapable of facing his own feelings?  

“Maybe it’s not Max,” you muttered to yourself that night, curled up on the couch in your childhood bedroom. “Maybe it’s someone else. Or maybe I just need to find myself first.”

When you returned to the paddock for the US Grand Prix, something had shifted inside you. You hadn’t made any final decisions, but you knew this chapter of your life was nearing its end. Still, as long as you were in F1, you were going to give it everything you had.  

In the pre-race interviews, journalists bombarded you with questions about your rivalry with Max.  

“Is it personal?,” one of them asked with a sly grin.  

“Everything in Formula 1 is personal,” you replied with a wry smile, offering no further explanation.  

Max, sitting next to you at the press conference, shot you a sideways glance but said nothing. The tension between you two was palpable, even in front of the cameras.  

That race turned into yet another head-to-head battle between the two of you. During the final laps, the radio chatter grew more intense.  

“He’s losing rear grip. Push him.”

“I already am!,” you snapped, pushing the car to its limit.  

In the last lap, you pulled off a risky overtake that left everyone stunned. You won the race, and as you stepped out of the car, you felt a mix of euphoria and exhaustion.  

While celebrating with your team, your thoughts drifted back to your conversation with your mom. Maybe this was the ending you’d been searching for, or maybe it was just the start of something new.  

Max watched you from the podium, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t decipher. In the crowd, you couldn’t help but wonder: could you ever leave it all behind, even him?  

The next race, under the scorching Qatar sun, felt heavier, both in the air and in the paddock. Everything about this second-to-last race of the season felt like a countdown to something inevitable. You and Max were tied in points, both neck and neck after a season of epic battles, controversies, and moments that had pushed you to the edge emotionally.  

The tension in the McLaren garage was palpable. Though your relationship with your team was excellent, you knew the pressure was on you. Lando tried to lighten the mood with his usual sense of humor, but even his energy couldn’t cut through the wall of your thoughts.  

“Come on, don’t be so serious. We could both use a win today,” he joked while adjusting his gloves.  

“Sure, but if you win, I won’t complain,” you replied with a faint smile, though you both knew that wasn’t true. This race meant everything to you.  

Meanwhile, Charles had sent a message that morning: ‘Remember, one race at a time. You can do this. You’ve already proven you’re the best.’ His unwavering support had become one of the few things keeping you mentally afloat during this emotional rollercoaster.  

From qualifying, it was clear this race would be another direct battle between you and Max. Both of you blocked every attempt the other made to set the fastest time, ending up on the front row: Max on pole, you in second.  

The start was clean but intense. From the first corner, Max showed his usual aggression, shutting you out in an attempt to stay ahead. But you knew this game; he had taught you how to play it. You used the slipstream on the main straight, and on lap five, you overtook him with a surgical move in turn 6.  

For a moment, the world seemed to stop as you led the race, but you knew the real battle had just begun.  

Midway through the race, things heated up. Teams began to play with strategies, and tire choices became crucial. On lap 32, as you exited the pits after a tire change, Max appeared beside you. The overtake that followed was so tight the two cars brushed slightly, sparking an explosion of shouting over the radio.  

“That was way too close!,” your engineer protested, but you were too focused to respond.  

Max didn’t back down. In the following laps, he kept relentless pressure on you, looking for any weakness in your defense. On lap 48, he attempted an inside overtake on a tight corner, but you managed to hold your position with a move that left everyone on the edge of their seats.  

In the final laps, your mind was torn between the adrenaline of the race and the mental exhaustion you’d been carrying all season. Max was glued to your diffuser, but he made a small mistake on the second-to-last corner, giving you just enough of a margin to cross the finish line first.  

Your team’s shout over the radio was deafening:  

“Victory! You’re incredible, what a race!.”

But you didn’t have time to celebrate. As you parked the car in parc fermé, reality hit you: this victory only meant you were still tied in points, and everything would come down to the final race.  

The journalists were in a frenzy. In the post-race press conference, the questions came at you like bullets.  

“How do you handle the pressure heading into the last race?.”

“Calmly. One race at a time.” you replied, echoing Charles’ words, even though calm was the last thing you felt.  

Max, sitting beside you, spoke after you.  

“I always knew this season would be decided in the end. I’m ready for it.”

His gaze met yours for a second, and in that brief moment, the tension between you two felt more personal than ever.  

Back at the hotel, you tried to disconnect, but it was impossible. Your mind raced, replaying every detail of the race and anticipating what was to come. Charles called to congratulate you but also to remind you to rest.  

“Don’t let this consume you, okay?,” he said, his tone serious but kind. “You’ve done an amazing job, and you have everything you need to win.”

“Thanks, Charles. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I don’t know what you’d do without me either,” he joked, managing to make you laugh.

However, when you hung up, you kept staring at the ceiling of your room, wondering if you were truly ready to face everything the final race was about to bring.  

Even though you hadn’t seen Max since the press conference, you knew he was just as restless as you. Despite everything that had happened between you two, you couldn’t help but think about him, about how this rivalry had consumed everything you once shared.  

Is this really what you wanted? To keep fighting, keep competing, keep losing yourself in the process?  

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your thoughts. Just one race left. One final battle. And after that, maybe you’d finally have the answers you’d been searching for.  

The last week of the season was a whirlwind of emotions, preparations, and a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The entire paddock was on edge. Everything would be decided in Abu Dhabi.  

Escaping the media’s attention was impossible. Cameras followed you everywhere, looking for any reaction that could turn into a headline. The atmosphere at McLaren was optimistic but tense. You’d brought the team to its highest point in years, and that was already a monumental achievement. But for you, it wasn’t enough. You wanted that title.  

During the press conferences, the questions were relentless. You and Max were the center of attention. Though both of you kept calm outwardly, the discomfort between you was obvious. Every word, every gesture was analyzed by the journalists.  

“How do you feel heading into this decisive race?” they asked you during one of the press rounds.  

“Focused. This is what we’ve worked for all year. I just want to do my job and see what happens,” you replied diplomatically, though inside your heart was racing.  

Max, sitting next to you, simply said:  

“I’m focused too. We both know what’s at stake. May the best win.”  

There was a moment when your eyes met, but it was fleeting. There were so many words left unsaid between you, and the weight of that silence felt unbearable.  

In the final strategy meeting with your team, the tension was palpable. You knew every decision would matter, every detail could be the difference between winning and losing. Your race engineer, always meticulous, reviewed the plans calmly, but even you could tell he was nervous.  

“I believe in you. You’ve proven you can do this,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder before you left the garage.  

Lando, on the other hand, tried to lighten the mood with a joke.  

“If you don’t win, can I keep the consolation trophy?” he said with a cheeky grin.  

“There won’t be a consolation trophy,” you replied with a smirk.  

That day, Yas Marina Circuit was lit up like a jewel in the desert, and the atmosphere was electric. Before getting in the car, you took a moment for yourself. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and visualized every corner, every move. You knew you had to give it everything.  

The anthem played, and the world seemed to pause for a moment. Max was beside you on the grid. Though you didn’t speak, you could feel his presence, his energy. You both knew this race wasn’t just about the championship but also everything that had happened between you.  

The start was flawless. From the first corner, you and Max were locked in an intense battle. Neither of you gave an inch. Every lap was a fight, every overtake a statement. The rest of the drivers might as well have been racing in a different category; it was as if this championship was meant to be decided between just the two of you.  

On lap 35, a slow pit stop almost cost you the race, but you quickly recovered, overtaking Max in a spectacular move on lap 42. The crowd went wild.  

But Max wasn’t going to give up. On lap 50, he took the lead back, forcing you slightly off the track. It was an aggressive move, but clean—classic Max.  

In the final five laps, both of you were at the limit. Your hands trembled slightly from the adrenaline, but your focus was unshakable. In the penultimate lap, you found a gap on the main straight and passed Max on the inside. This time, he had no answer.  

When you crossed the finish line, the world seemed to stop for a moment before exploding in celebration. You’d done it. You were a world champion.  

Your team screamed over the radio, their voices full of tears and joy.  

“You’re the world champion! You did it!”  

As you climbed out of the car, the emotions overwhelmed you. Your team surrounded you, celebrating. Lando was one of the first to hug you, shouting:  

“I told you! I knew you’d do it!”  

As you stood with your team, your eyes instinctively searched for Max. He was there, watching you from a distance. Slowly, he approached, his steps a mix of pride and resignation.  

When he reached you, he extended his hand.  

“Congratulations,” he said, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.  

“Thanks, Max,” you replied, shaking his hand. For a moment, his eyes reflected something that looked like regret, but he said nothing more. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.  

That night was magical. There was laughter, tears, toasts. The tension of the entire season melted away in a whirlwind of emotions. Charles called to congratulate you, and his genuine happiness was like a balm to your heart.  

“I knew you could do it. I’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice full of sincerity.  

As the celebration went on, you took a moment to reflect. You’d reached the pinnacle of the world, but you knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your life. The future was full of uncertainty, but that night, you decided to enjoy the present, savoring every moment of your triumph.  

The emotional hangover the next day was overwhelming. It wasn’t physical, nor from the celebration, but a deep emptiness you hadn’t expected to feel after achieving the dream of your life. You’d won the Formula 1 World Championship, the peak of your career, but instead of feeling complete, you felt lost.

You woke up in your hotel room, sunlight streaming through the curtains. Around you, there were remnants of the celebration: a half-empty champagne glass on the table, the dress you wore last night carelessly thrown over a chair. The trophy, shiny and imposing, sat on the nightstand, but as you looked at it, you didn’t feel the euphoria you’d imagined for years.  

You got up and walked to the mirror. The reflection staring back at you was different from the one you were used to. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion from the season; it was something deeper a sense of disconnect with yourself.  

You spent the morning avoiding your phone, even though you knew the notifications had to be flooding in. Messages of congratulations, articles from the media, videos of the highlights... but you weren’t ready to face it yet. Instead of feeling celebrated, you felt isolated.  

The idea had been lingering in your mind for weeks, maybe even months. The crash, the endless emotional struggles, the pressure to always be the best... it had all left its mark. And now, after achieving what you’d always dreamed of, you realized something: you didn’t want to keep going anymore.  

During breakfast with your parents, you decided to share your thoughts. You’d avoided bringing it up before, afraid of their reactions, but now felt like the right time.  

“I’ve been thinking about something... important,” you said, breaking the silence while fiddling with your coffee mug.  

Your mom looked at you with concern.  

“Are you okay? Does this have to do with Formula 1?”  

You shook your head.  

“No… well, partly, yes. Like I said, I’ve been reflecting, and I think... I don’t want to keep racing anymore.”  

The silence that followed was heavy. Your dad, ever the pragmatic one, was the first to speak.  

“Are you sure? You’ve worked your whole life for this.”  

“I know, Dad. But I’ve also given it everything I had. And now I feel like if I keep going, it’ll just be out of habit, not because I really want to.”  

Your mom took your hand.  

“We’ve always wanted you to be happy, no matter what you do. If you feel this is the time to stop, we’ll support you.”  

That conversation was the turning point. Over the following days, you talked to your team, Lando, and even Charles, who, although surprised, understood your decision. Lando tried to convince you to stay for one more year.  

“Are you really going to leave me here alone? We were just starting to have fun!” he joked, though there was genuine sadness in his eyes.  

“It’s your time, Lando. I’m sure you’ll do amazing things,” you replied, hugging him.  

Charles, on the other hand, was more serious.  

“I didn’t see this coming, but I get it. Just… promise me you won’t disappear completely.”  

“I won’t. I’ll always be here, even if it’s just as a spectator.”  

That same night, after hours of figuring out how to word it, you sat in front of the camera in your room. You were nervous, not about the decision, but about how the world would react. You wore a simple t-shirt, your hair tied back. You wanted the message to be honest, without distractions.  

‘Hi, everyone. I know this isn’t the video you were expecting after the incredible season we just had, but I wanted to share something important with you...’

You took a deep breath before continuing.  

‘I’ve decided to retire from Formula 1. This year has been the most exciting but also the most exhausting of my life. Winning the championship was a dream come true, but it also made me realize it’s time to close this chapter and start a new one.’

You paused, letting your words sink in.  

‘This wasn’t an easy decision. Formula 1 has been my life for so many years that I barely remember what it was like before. But I also know I want other things. I want time for myself, for my family, to explore who I am outside of this sport.’

Your voice wavered slightly, but you kept going.  

‘I want to thank my team, my teammates, my rivals, and, of course, the fans. Without your support, none of this would’ve been possible.’

When you finished, you turned off the camera and fell onto the bed. It wasn’t immediate relief, but there was something freeing about putting an end to that chapter.  

The video was released the next day and, as expected, caused a storm. The media debated your decision, fans flooded social media with messages of support and gratitude, and some even expressed disbelief.  

Charles sent you a text:  

“I saw it. I’m proud of you. You’ll do amazing things, no matter where you go.”  

And Max, who had avoided talking to you since the last race, also sent a short message:  

“You were the best. I always knew it. I hope you find what you’re looking for and that you forgive me.”  

Even though his words were few, they left a lump in your throat.  

That night, while staring at the stars from your balcony, you realized that, even though the future was uncertain, you were ready to face it.  

Weeks passed since your decision, and life finally seemed to find its rhythm. The constant noise of racing and the pressure to be the best slowly faded. But deep down, you felt like something or someone was still missing.  

Your house, now quieter than ever, became your sanctuary. You spent those days focusing on yourself, resting, discovering what you truly liked outside the track. But even in the peace of your own thoughts, Max lingered in your mind. He wasn’t a constant thought, but you’d remember him, especially when news of his breakup with his girlfriend started circulating. That, unexpectedly, stirred something in you, a knot in your stomach.  

Late one night, your phone buzzed. The name on the screen made you hesitate for a second. Max.  

The message was short, direct.  

“Can I see you? I need to talk to you.”  

You didn’t think much about it. You knew this conversation needed to happen eventually. You’d been avoiding it, but now it felt like the universe was putting it in your path.  

You agreed to meet at your house the next day, and when the door opened, there he was. Max, with that intense, direct gaze that had known you for years. Now, though, there was something different something more vulnerable.  

“Hi,” he said, his voice softer than usual.  

You invited him in, and he settled on the couch like it was his own home. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unresolved emotions.  

“I don’t know where to start,” he began, with a nervous smile.  

“Neither do I,” you replied, sitting across from him.  

The two of you just sat there, watching each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Finally, Max spoke.  

“Breaking up with her... wasn’t easy. I knew it wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t keep lying to myself. The truth is… I never stopped thinking about you.”  

Your heart skipped a beat, and a lump formed in your throat. You didn’t know what to say. Max, always so sure of himself, seemed completely different now.  

“Max... I don’t know what you want me to say. We’ve been on such different paths. You… always so focused on F1, on competing… and me too. Things were never easy between us, and now… I don’t know if any of this makes sense.”  

He nodded, understanding what you meant.  

“I know. I’ve been an idiot. I thought I could keep everything under control, but in the end… I lost what mattered most.”  

He looked at you intently, and in his eyes was a sincerity that made you question everything you’d been thinking until that moment.  

“But that doesn’t mean I forgot about you. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about what we had. If anything, it’s taken me time to realize that… maybe there’s something here we never really figured out.”  

You stayed silent, processing his words. The tension was thick, but something in his voice made you want to listen, even though you knew the situation was complicated.  

“And what is it that you want, Max?” you asked, your voice a bit shaky.  

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a small, sad smile. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or to go back to what we had. But I think… we should at least try. Not now, not right away, but… maybe we can see what happens, without the pressures of F1, without everything that kept us apart.”  

You got up and walked to the window, staring outside without really seeing anything. Max watched you from the couch, waiting for your response. The atmosphere between you had shifted somehow, and for the first time, it felt like you had both let go of the fight to always be the best.  

You turned to look at him.  

“I’m not sure I’m ready to start something new. After all, I made the decision to retire for a reason, Max. I’ve spent so much time on F1 that now I need to rediscover myself. And I don’t know what I want.”  

Max got up from the couch, slowly approaching you.  

“I get it. I’m not expecting it to be easy, or for everything to be resolved right now. But I want you to know I’m not pressuring you. I just… wanted you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll be here. And if someday you decide what we had is worth another shot, I’ll be ready to try, no matter the past.”  

A deep silence followed his words. You knew there was still so much to figure out between the two of you, but something about his attitude, about his willingness to wait, struck a chord within you.  

You didn’t say anything else. You walked toward him, and for a moment, words weren’t necessary. The look in your eyes said it all. Still, there were no promises, no certainties just a silent understanding that, maybe, the future could be different. Maybe even together.  

“We’ll see what happens,” you finally said.  

Max nodded, not pushing, knowing that time would have to decide the course for both of you. And with that response, the future remained suspended between you, open, uncertain, but carrying a possibility that hadn’t existed before.

[libingan]

merry christmas! 🎁🎄

here it is, people… the christmas fic!!!!! sorry if its so fucking corny it was funnier in my head

can someone please draw them wearing ugly sweaters i need it

the holidays were finally here, and you were determined to make this christmas with task force 141 one that none of you would ever forget. while most people spent the season relaxing and enjoying family time, you knew your family was a little different. the bond you shared with the team was unspoken, but it was there, and it had to be celebrated. and what better way to celebrate than with some over-the-top christmas sweaters?

for weeks, you worked tirelessly to create the most garish, ridiculous sweaters you could think of. your needles clicked, glittered buttons and pom-poms strewn across your workspace, and christmas music blared in the background as you tried your best to make something that was both fun and festive. but in all honesty? the result was so catastrophically ugly that it could only be described as an art form.

soap’s sweater was a brilliant lime green, decorated with a mismatched, wonky santa face, complete with googly eyes that jiggled and wobbled as he moved. ghost’s sweater was black, of course, in keeping with his usual aesthetic, but it was covered in neon-red snowflakes and the words “silent night, deadly night” in garish gold lettering. price’s sweater was navy blue, with a slightly crooked reindeer stitched onto the front, its antlers weighted down by jingly plastic bells that rang with every move he made. gaz’s was a bright red abomination, with a patchwork christmas tree that looked like it had been made by a blindfolded toddler. the tree was adorned with buttons, glitter, and tiny battery-powered fairy lights that blinked in a chaotic, seizure-inducing pattern. and yours? well, yours was a glittery train wreck—candy-cane stripes, mismatched pom-poms, and snowflakes that you’d glued on so haphazardly that some were already starting to peel off.

you waited anxiously, a grin spread wide across your face, as you handed the sweaters out to the team. soap was the first to laugh, an obnoxious, joyful sound that filled the room. “bloody brilliant!” he declared, already slipping it over his head. gaz eagerly followed, adjusting the blinking lights on his sweater with a wide grin. “it’s ugly as hell, but it’s festive!” he cheered, playfully tugging on his sleeves.

but when price looked at the sweater you handed him, his brow furrowed, and he crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “this is ridiculous,” he muttered. ghost was even more nonchalant, barely even looking at his sweater. “i’m not wearing that,” he stated simply, his mask hiding any trace of emotion.

you felt your heart sink at their disapproval. you had spent so much time making these sweaters, and now it seemed like your grand idea was going to fall flat. you tried to hide your disappointment, but it was impossible to mask the way your shoulders slumped and the way the grin on your face faded into a frown.

soap, ever the optimist, was quick to notice. “c’mon, lads,” he said, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “it’s christmas. don’t leave her hanging like that.” gaz nodded along, nudging ghost’s side. “yeah, don’t be such buzzkills. we’re doing this for fun.”

price sighed, rubbing his temple. “fine,” he said, clearly resigned to the idea, though you could see he wasn’t thrilled about it. ghost, after a long moment of silent contemplation, muttered a low curse and finally relented. “fine,” he growled, pulling the sweater over his head with a scowl. “but don’t expect me to smile for any damn photos.”

you couldn’t help but beam as the team finally agreed. “thank you,” you whispered, relieved and a little giddy. the fact that they were willing to humor you meant more than you could put into words.

-

the photo shoot began with a sense of awkwardness, but it quickly turned into something far more ridiculous than anyone had imagined. you set up a makeshift photo booth in the corner of the common area. christmas lights twinkled in every direction, and a small, crooked tree stood beside you, barely hanging onto its plastic glory. soap insisted on decorating it with tinsel and a few odd-looking ornaments he’d found lying around the base, including a couple of empty bullet casings.

the first shot was a classic group pose. soap threw an arm around your shoulder, his face lit up with a grin that could rival the sun. gaz stood beside you, striking a finger-gun pose with a cocky smirk, his sweater lights flashing erratically. price and ghost stood behind you, stiff and reluctant, but still part of the scene. price gave a half-smile that was more out of politeness than enjoyment, while ghost’s body language screamed discomfort, but he didn’t look entirely miserable.

the second shot was even more chaotic. soap, in a moment of pure genius, turned his sweater around so santa’s googly eyes stared blankly at the camera. ghost, ever the minimalist, crossed his arms, giving a deadpan expression as he tilted his head, pretending to be menacing. gaz tangled himself in his sweater lights as if they were trying to strangle him, and you knelt in front of him, holding a candy cane like it was an ancient weapon.

for the third photo, you decided to switch it up. this time, you all got creative with silly props you’d found around the base. soap grabbed a small santa hat and dramatically placed it on your head, pulling you into a ridiculous pose where he pretended to be your personal bodyguard. gaz stood beside you, holding an oversized candy cane like it was a weapon, while you struck a playful pose, holding up a mug filled with what was definitely not eggnog but still looked festive. ghost and price, unable to resist the chaos any longer, found themselves joining in as well. ghost raised a plastic cup as if toasting to the absurdity of it all, and price, ever the soldier, saluted with his mug.

and then came the final shot, the crowning glory of the evening. soap and gaz carefully lifted your legs while price took the middle, and ghost reluctantly held your shoulders. you struck a triumphant pose, arms thrown in the air like you’d just conquered the world. soap joked, “light as a feather, lass. guess we’ve been lifting too much.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. this was the moment you had dreamed of—a memory you would cherish forever.

-

the photo session finally came to a close, but you weren’t quite done yet. you stepped forward, cupping each of their faces gently as you planted a kiss on each of their cheeks. soap, never one to shy away from affection, let out a loud laugh and gave you a playful wink. gaz blushed, his smile turning sheepish as he muttered a quiet thank you. price gave you a resigned but soft look, and ghost—stoic as ever—simply leaned into the kiss, his body language telling you more than his words ever could.

“merry christmas,” you whispered, feeling your heart swell with warmth.

“merry christmas,” soap said, grinning widely. gaz and price both offered quiet chuckles, and even ghost nodded slightly, his mask hiding the faintest hint of a smile.

it wasn’t a picture-perfect holiday—far from it—but in that moment, surrounded by your favorite people in the ugliest sweaters ever created, it was exactly what christmas should be: fun, silly, and filled with love.

after the photos were taken, you couldn’t bear for them to be tucked away somewhere forgotten. instead, you had one framed—the last photo, the one where they were all carrying you in their arms like a queen. you decided it would be perfect to hang it somewhere everyone could see, so you found a spot in the mess hall. it wasn’t glamorous, but it was home, and it was filled with laughter and memories. and now, every time the team passed by that spot, they’d see the ridiculous photo—and remember the holiday you all shared.

[mollysunder]

Sky and Viktor's relationship is such a horror movie to me. You've got a man who was frustrated by the limitations placed on his life that were out of his control, like his class, mobility, and general health. Despite everything, he manages to rise beyond his station and avoid being an assistant for the rest of his life.

Then you've got a woman from the same background who admires him and all that he's accomplished in spite of the similar class based prejudices they faced all the while she's his assistant. She works up the courage to take leap of faith and reach out to him with her own research to show what's possible if they worked together as equals. And then he gets her killed!

Sky's death isn't the end of it because while it affects Viktor it is in no way meaningful to Sky's life or value as a person whatsoever. Even the pendant he wears in her memory is based on the design of her notebook, but that was just her notebook's cover, she probably bought it from a store and the design itself is probably mass produced. Why not use Sky's signature that was in her letter and in the notebook, the thing part if the notebook with real value?

Then Sky's brought back in s2 and she really only exists to be Viktor's assistant again, who he kills, again! But this time it's different because this time Viktor's making a conscious decision to look Sky in the eye and kill her... to prove he's changed.

In the middle of all this, in no way has Sky's death been mourned by her family or anyone else who could have known her. Jayce wasn't affected by the reveal, he didn't think it was important to tell Heimerdinger, or anyone who knew her. Nothing about her life, death, or disappearance has spurred any emotional reaction or even curiosity about what happened to her.

Sky's new life was also extremely isolated because she became further tied to him (in some ways you could say she was defined by him). Viktor never mentioned Sky to anyone in the material plane during his commune arc, so she only exists to him and she has no way to communicate with others, she's just there for Viktor's sake.

Then in the finale we learn this all a part of a big time loop where Viktor actively set the wheels in motion to have him and Jayce create hextech together, but if everything follows as is, that means Sky is violently killed in those timelines too. That means Viktor weighed the costs and decided over and over and over again that Sky was expendable enough to let her die for his plan to work eventually. How is that not murder at this point?

What's worse is that post-finale Sky's humanity is a point of dispute amongst the fandom, the VAs, and the writers themselves. Sky's the hexcore manipulating Viktor. No, Sky's a manifestion of Viktor's guilt. No, she's actually supposed to represent his humanity/conscious made physical. And in none of these arguments do they discuss Sky as a person, she's just an object meant to serve Viktor both in the narrative sense and literal sense as his assistant.

The most absolutely maddening part is that with Viktor's new bio on the League site, not only have most traces of Viktor had been scrubbed by Piltover's archive, but Sky's life has been completely wiped. Her death was implied to have been swept under the rug, and only described as the "loss of life" consequence from his Hexcore experiment.

Viktor was afraid of dying a senseless death (created by the conditions Piltover condemned his birth to) in obscurity and then he turned it into Sky's destiny.

[hortaheart]

It’s crazy how Voyager, by nature of its premise, should be half about the Maquis, but it straight up isn’t. I know we talk about this a lot and that there’s a million examples of this, but I just rewatched “Hunters”, and it’s utterly bizarre to me how the news of the mass death of the rest of the Maquis is so glossed over. It’s presented as just an emotional problem for B’Elanna, which is only equally as important as Tom’s dad-related angst, Janeway’s Dear John letter from Mark, and Harry being anxious for a letter from home.

Like. Half the crew is Maquis. And this is four years into the journey, when the crew has become fully integrated and entangled with each other. No matter how the various originally Starfleet crew felt about the Maquis before, they have to be at least somewhat sympathetic now. Or at least to care about them because the Maquis crew members they‘ve become close with care about them.

This should be a huge deal for the entire ship. Everyone should be upset by this. The Captain should make a statement to the crew. We should see the various Maquis crew members break down sobbing, and others comforting them. There should be a service to honor them that everyone attends.

It has every reason to completely overshadow everything else. It’s insane how background it is! We don’t even see Chakotay’s real reaction!

And then Neelix throws a party at the end that everyone attends, Chakotay smilingly arm in arm with Janeway, who we never see formally receive the news. A party!

It should be a funeral!

[the-flying-robins]

Am I making a post about UtRH? Yes. Am I also managing to make part of it about Dick Grayson? Yes. Sorry, I'm afraid my condition is irreversible.

Dick is only there for three issues, but his presence bookends the story and haunts several of the final issues.

The final confrontation between Bruce and Jason starts in Batman #649. Before that Jason confronts the Joker. He tells the Joker that it's not about him.

(Batman #649)

This end of this issue and the beginning of the next focus on the destruction of Bludhaven.

(Batman #649 & 650)

Both of them have every reason to believe that Dick is now dead.

But I want to focus on the framing of the images. In the first panel Jason is too far away and shadowed, it's impossible to read any emotions on his face, Bruce's face is well lit, showing his distress. Jason then taunts Bruce saying "one son returns from the grave as another enters it..." The following issue opens on a wider shot, likely slightly before the last issues final page. Jason is once again in the background, but in the second panel (third image) he appears upset, at the very least not experiencing joy like he's trying to portray later. The bottom three panels zoom in on Jason's face but only onto his mask covered eyes, making it near impossible to glean any real information about his thoughts.

Bruce attempts to leave in search of Dick.

(Batman #650)

Jason gets angry and stops him. This fight has been carefully plotted and planned by Jason, he gets only one shot at this. In his eyes Bruce leaving now is Bruce finally confirming that Jason is the second choice. Dick is upstaging Jason again, even if this night ends the way Jason wants it to, the main thing Bruce is going to remember is that this is the night he lost Dick.

There is no nuance to this, the extreme circumstances don't matter, to Jason this is Bruce choosing Dick over him. Just like in life Jason feels he's the second choice, the replacement, only there because Dick Grayson isn't.

Jason and Bruce continue to fight until Bruce gains the upper hand only for Jason to draw a gun on him.

(Batman #650)

"... I thought... I thought killing me - that I'd be the last person you'd ever let him hurt."

Jason felt like the second choice in life, and in his resurrection he's come to believe it.

(Batman #650)

At the end of it all, all of Jason's planning, all of his cunning, all of it was to force this moment. To put Bruce's back against the wall and finally choose Jason first. And he's disappointed. Bruce finds a way around it, but to Jason that is a choice, just not the one he wanted.

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

your desi reader fics make me feel so seen 🥹 can I request an oscar x desi reader fic? maybe of them like watching a bollywood movie together bc I just know he’d ask a gazillion questions bc it doesn’t make sense but they’re not meant to follow logic bro just enjoy 😭

Just Pure Feeling -`♡´-

☾ op x desi!reader ༊*·˚

☾ fluff ༊*·˚

masterlist ☾☼

It was a cozy evening in your apartment. The low thrum of the ceiling fan and the smell of dinner you'd just had clung to the air. You sat cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by cushions in every colour imaginable, with the warm dimming of fairy lights softening the room.

Oscar was staring at the TV screen, seemingly befuddled; he had somehow found himself snuggled next to you. His usual biting wit and calm demeanor seem to have deserted him utterly.

The film? Ah, Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham—one of your favorites, the great family epic of love, drama, and much else more.

You glanced over at him, trying not to laugh. He was taking this whole Bollywood thing very seriously.

"Okay, so… let me get this straight," Oscar said, pausing the movie just as a dramatic scene of Shah Rukh Khan running across the airport flashed on the screen. “Why does he look like he’s running through a storm of rose petals?”

You laughed, taking the remote control from his hand and played the movie. "It's a Bollywood film, Oscar. It's not about the logic. It's about the emotions".

He blinked twice, eyebrows furrowed in incomprehension. "He's just… running? Like, why is he running in slow motion? And what's with the over-the-top background music? No one does this shit in real life".

"Oh, trust me. It's all part of the charm," you said with a grin, squeezing his arm. "It's the drama, the flair, the passion. It's what makes it special."

Oscar shook his head, still processing what he'd just witnessed. "But why is everyone crying so much? Like, for a movie that literally means 'sometimes happiness, sometimes sadness', I've only seen sadness till now. And why is everyone wearing these elaborate outfits for literally every occasion?"

"Because they're expressing their feelings, Oscar! Emotions are bigger than life here. And don't even get me started on the fashion—it's a cultural thing. The more bling, the better." You laughed at his confused expression. "You'll get used to it. It's about the spectacle."

He furrowed his brow, not satisfied. "Spectacle? The movie's just one melodrama after another! A huge family reunion, and now everyone's hugging… Did he just turn away from his family for years over a misunderstanding?"

You bit your lip to hold in a chuckle. "Yep. That's what makes it Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham — sometimes you have happiness, sometimes sadness. It's all about the grand emotional journey."

Oscar gazed at the screen a few more seconds, his eyes wide. "Okay, but how do they have the energy to sing and dance in the middle of a serious conversation? Like, how does that happen?"

"Bollywood logic," you shrugged, as if that explained everything. "People break into song in the middle of a heartfelt discussion. They could be talking about how to solve world peace, and suddenly it's a dance number. It's magic, Oscar."

He rubbed his temples, clearly trying to keep up with the plot, but at least, he was trying. "But… they just lost their son in a family feud. Why is there a dance number in the middle of a tragedy? This makes no sense!"

You laughed so hard that you had to pause the movie for a moment, clutching your stomach. "Because, Oscar," you said, voice still bubbling with laughter, "it's a Bollywood film. It's a rollercoaster of emotions. You go from crying your eyes out to dancing in the rain in the blink of an eye."

Oscar blinked again, his eyes flicking between the screen and you, as if trying to make sense of it all. "So, what you're saying is… it's not supposed to make sense?"

"Exactly. You're supposed to feel it."

"Well, I'm definitely feeling something," Oscar muttered under his breath. "I just don't know what it is."

"Good!" You smirk at him, flicking him lightly on the shoulder. "Now stop overthinking it and enjoy the ride."

Oscar sank back into the couch with a heavy sigh, surrendering himself to not knowing anything. And yet, you could see the curiosity in his eyes amidst the confusion. "Fine, fine. No reasoning. Just.. pure feeling. Got it."

As the movie played, you snuggled closer to him, feeling his arm instinctively wrap around your shoulders. You felt him press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

"He's so pretty," You murmured at one point.

"Who? The actor?" Oscar asked immediately, sitting up a little straighter.

You hadn't realised that you had said it out loud, but you supposed that he was going to find out eventually.

"Shah Rukh Khan. He's so pretty," Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched the actor go through his motions.

"You sound like you're in love with him," Oscar laughed, "Thank God, you're not, huh?"

You didn't respond, not wanting to lie to your boyfriend.

"You're not, right?" Oscar emphasised.

"Uh huh, sure. Of course I'm not, that'd be," you paused, sighing sadly, "stupid,"

Oscar shook his head. He didn't know what to say. His girlfriend had a crush on an actor that he was pretty sure had a wife and kids.

You had to admit, this was one of your favorite ways to share your world with him—watching him slowly come around to something so deeply ingrained in your culture, even if he couldn't fully grasp it yet.

A few moments later, when the screen changed to a song-and-dance number, Oscar let out a short laugh. "Alright, so, now they're all dancing on top of a moving car. Got it. Makes perfect sense."

You snorted. "Exactly! That's the spirit!"

You sat there side by side, watching the drama on the screen, but in the midst of it, something much more important was going on: the two of you were creating a beautiful little moment of your own. Not one that had to make sense, but one that simply existed, full of laughter, love, and the warmth of a shared experience.

And, hey, if Oscar cried at some point during the film, you were not supposed to know that. The usually emotionless man had lost the war with a simple Bollywood movie, and may have finally shed a tear or two.

And as the credits rolled, Oscar turned to you with a mock-serious expression. "Alright, I think I'm ready for the next one."

You grinned, already planning your next Bollywood movie marathon. It was clear that Oscar had a lot more questions to ask, but you had no doubt he'd be enjoying the journey every bit as much as you did.

"Get ready for Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge next," you said with a mischievous glint in your eye. "It's even more dramatic."

Oscar sighed dramatically, sinking into the couch. "This is going to be a long night."

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

okay, im ngl, i like this op x desi!reader way more than the previous one. i think i'm getting the hang of writing oscar a little bit. let me know if y'all like this one! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[tahbhie]

Reasons Why 80% of Romantic Plots Fall Through.

Haven't you wondered why a romantic story you have so much hope for suddenly flops? Whether it's yours or not, let's see what could be the problem.

• Relying Too Much on the Outcome

Unfortunately, no romance is complete without an arc. In other words, it is more than just the intimacy. When writers don't allow the relationship to develop naturally, it feels forced. Rushing to the final romance without building a solid foundation will make the story feel shallow and unconvincing. Take your time, flesh out the idea, and follow the plot gradually.

• Creating Unnecessary Victimization

I often see writers make the mistake of portraying one character as too weak or pitiful only for the sake of it. This unnecessary victimization can undermine the character's depth and make the story less compelling. Your readers won't cry along with a female character whose decisions are pretty sour compared to a five-year-old. It's just simply annoying.

Instead, both characters should have strengths and weaknesses, make realistic decisions, making them more relatable and balanced.

• Cringy Conflict.

Realistic conflict is essential for a compelling romance. Over-the-top or contrived conflicts can make the story feel forced and cringy. Conflict should come naturally and blend perfectly into the plot. It's not advisable to pop a challenge that's definitely not necessary in the name of 'keeping the stakes high.'

Rather, focus on creating believable challenges that the characters must overcome, adding depth and authenticity to the plot.

• Neglecting Other Emotions Outside Romance.

It's not only about love, or roses, or dinner nights, or lucky dates with the billionaire. Show the other emotions fighting for dominance: the hurts, pains, joy, frustration, desperation, anger, sadness, jealousy, anxiety, or even moments when a character falls out of love with the other and can't understand their feelings.

Focusing solely on love can lead to a one-dimensional story. For a well-rounded narrative, explore these emotions to create a richer and more immersive experience for the readers.

• Underdeveloped Characters.

What's a story without a fully-fledged character, especially if they are the main character in a story?

You might have heard people talk about the importance of backstories and others saying too much of it tires them out, but here's the thing—balance. It's what people fail to incorporate. I'll try to cover this in any of my upcoming blog posts. Follow to keep up.

To better understand why we should cry for, laugh with, pity, admire, adore, scold, yell at, advocate for, and smile with your character, we need to know why they are what they are, who they are, and why they make the choices they make.

It's important to create characters with distinct personalities, backgrounds, and motivations. When readers care about the characters, they become more invested in the story and its outcome.

And that's my Christmas gift from me to you 🎁. Merry Christmas 🎄

[oddyseye]

I don't like the Athena and Odysseus conversation in the Ithaca saga either, but I do think it's worth pointing out that Athena hasn't been the one constant for him. They had a semi-mutual cutting of ties where they said extremely hurtful and hateful things to each other and he never heard from her again for the majority of the musical. Odysseus never learns that it was Athena that fought on his behalf. She's not a constant for him, and hasn't been for at least 7 years.

Okay, fair enough, I see what you're saying, and I’ll admit, I didn’t word it as clearly as I should’ve. I wasn’t trying to suggest Athena’s been literally there every step of the way. You’re right, she wasn’t around for years. There was a break, and it’s not like she’s been his biggest cheerleader from the start. They had their moments of real tension, and yeah, he didn’t know she was pulling strings behind the scenes during those dark years. But the thing is, the history between them, especially leading up to that moment where she fights for him against Zeus, still matters. Even if they were on different paths for a while, that bond never completely died. She fought for him when no one else would, and that’s what makes her role so damn important. Athena knew Odysseus since he was a boy. Younger than Telemachus. She watched him grow, helped him shape his mind and his cunning, and nurtured him into the leader he became. She wasn’t some casual mentor, she was there, guiding him through the lightest and darkest moments, and even when they were apart, her influence never fully left him. That’s why his rejection of her in Ithaca feels so out of place. I’m sticking with my point that Odysseus rejecting her in Ithaca felt like a slap in the face, not just to Athena but to everything they had. It’s one thing to have that time apart, it’s another for him to toss her aside so casually after all she did. That moment felt more like a cheap plot point to show his 'monster arc,' not an actual emotional progression. It didn’t sit right, and honestly, it still doesn’t. If he’s going to become this brutal version of himself, there needed to be a deeper exploration of why he’d push Athena, someone who was so vital to him, away so completely. When I say she's been there for him, I’m talking about the emotional thread between them. Sure, they had that blow-up, and yeah, she hasn’t been directly involved for a lot of the last few years — but you can't tell me that doesn't matter when, in the end, Odysseus is still calling out to her when he's at rock bottom. Like, it wasn’t a coincidence that he begged for her help, and we know she was still invested in him, even if she wasn’t physically present. She was in his thoughts, his prayers, and his strategies. It's not about her showing up every minute, it’s about the fact that she’s always been there in the background, guiding his decisions and protecting him from afar.

So, no, she wasn’t by his side physically for the past seven years, but emotionally? She was still a constant. Her influence looms over everything he does. And I stand by it — rejecting her, after all she’s done for him, just doesn't track. It feels like the writers completely ignored that weight, and that’s why it feels wrong to me.

I get that they were trying to show his 'monster' arc, but he didn’t have to burn that bridge. That’s where I’m coming from. She’s been there for him in spirit, even when she wasn’t there physically. So, yeah, I’m still calling her a constant. Just because she wasn't literally beside him every moment doesn’t mean she wasn’t always there, in some form.

[jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka]

Merry Christmas! 🎄Thank you again to everyone who has stuck with me through this. I hope you enjoy the last half of the last chapter, part 11.2!

Pairings: Jake Kiszka X Danny Wagner *slash! Happy holidays!

Warnings and tags: 18+ only! Adult themes including: drinking, processing of feelings, important talks, little bit of fear and anxiety, big emotions, little bit of flirting, little bit of dirty talk over the phone, partying, smut including: drunk sex, lots of kissing, some fingering, unprotected sex, mentions of oral sex, even more dirty talk, dad Jake AU, uncle Danny AU

Word count: 8.2k

Jake got back into his Nashville life at full swing as soon as he arrived home. There were lots of new project plans to be reviewed for approval, budgets to comb through, and meetings to attend all before the new year. It was exhausting but he was filling the position remarkably well, at least as far as everyone had told him.

Most nights he was bringing work home with him, which made it even harder to also be staying in touch with everyone he’d promised to, but Jake made sure to carve out some time every night for himself. After dinner and putting Luna to bed, Jake would call Josh as he prepared for bed. Even if it was just a simple ‘hey how have you been’ or a venting of frustrations after a particularly difficult day, it felt good to get back into the routine of speaking with his twin every night.

After they both said their good nights, Jake would crawl into bed and open up his string of messages with Danny. Sometimes he wouldn’t even remember where they had left off when texting back and forth throughout the day, and some days he would be too busy to really even say much at all. Danny understood the text could be far and few between, and after a few abrupt silences he realized just how busy Jake truly was.

Part of Danny felt guilty for taking up some of Jake’s precious time, but he was exceedingly happy anytime he did get some of his attention which happened to most consistently be late at night. Tonight specifically he was surprised to be getting a call.

“Sorry, I’m too tired to text right now” Jake spoke quietly when Danny answered.

“That’s alright, I can let you go to bed” Danny replied, feeling a pang in his side at the sound of Jake’s sleepy voice. He remembered that voice all too well, only in his memories he was laying by Jake’s side not hundreds of miles away.

“Will you just talk to me? Want to hear your voice” Jake begged, his head already resting on his pillow with his phone on speaker beside him.

Feeling a bit on the spot Danny nervously asked what Jake wanted him to talk about, to which Jake responded with anything at all. “I got Emma a soccer ball and new shoes for Christmas, it's been too cold to go out and play but I told her when spring comes we can go to the park and I’ll practice with her. She’s already signed up for another team this year but she says you were the best coach”.

Jake smiled softly at the thought of Danny playing on the field. With his eyes closed he could easily picture it, the golden sun behind him making the russet highlights in his coily hair shine. Danny is smiling a bright toothy grin and the kids are laughing in the background as he kicks the ball towards the goal and misses. Jake cheers him on anyway and Danny returns to his side with a lopsided smile as he throws an arm over his shoulders.

Danny continued to talk about nothing really, until he stopped for a moment to see if Jake was even still listening. When Jake didn’t respond he realized the man on the other end had fallen soundly asleep, soft barely audible snores filled the silence and Danny stayed on the line for just a while longer to listen.

A month had already passed and things were finally starting to slow down on Jake’s end. He found more time to text back and forth, and Danny stayed supportive even when he himself had long days at the shop.

“How are things going with the baby?” Jake asked, having also gotten into the habit of just calling Danny after he finished talking with Josh.

“He’s the cutest little squishy faced alien I’ve ever seen” Danny replied making Jake scoff and chuckle. “Really, when they’re this young they don’t even look human. I love him anyway though”.

“I’m glad you’re there for your sister, babies are a lot of work”. Jake knew this from experience, having mostly raised Luna on his own since his wife had been too sick when their daughter was just born.

“My mom takes the early morning shifts, and I come by after work. I never realized how many bottles you go through in just one day”.

“And diapers” Jake added, to which Danny exhaled and heartily agreed.

“Little Robbie sure does know how to steal everyone’s attention though. Even Emma wants to hold him all of the time”.

“I can’t wait to meet him”. There was something Jake needed to ask Danny, but he had been waiting until everything was sorted out before he did so that he didn’t get anyone’s hopes up. “Actually, I was just looking at flights today”.

“Really?” Danny replied, trying not to sound too excited at the idea of seeing Jake again.

“Next month Josh is throwing an engagement party at the gallery. Would you like to come with me as my plus one?”

That was an easy answer, Danny didn’t even need to check his schedule whatever the date was he would make sure he was available. “I’d love to”.

“I can only get a couple of days off, so I’m flying in the day before and back out the day after. My in-laws are going to watch Luna here for me since it will be such a quick trip”.

“Well, I won’t take you away from Josh too much, but it will be good to see you. I miss you”.

“I miss you too” Jake sighed, “a lot”.

“Oh yeah?” Danny’s voice turned up in tone, a hint of mischief coloring the way he spoke. Now that he had something to look forward to he felt reanimated, which led him to playfully push their conversation a little further than it usually went even on their late night calls. “How much do you miss me?”

Jake blushed at the simple question with a not so hidden deeper meaning. With their texting coming more frequently their exchanges had started to become more and more flirtatious as time went on and they both began to grow comfortable with each other again. “Enough that it's getting harder and harder to not jump on a plane just to come see you”.

“Hmm, yeah I bet it is pretty hard” Danny pushed even further, heavily insinuating that there was something else he expected to be hard when Jake thought about seeing him. “Tell me Jake, do you fantasize about it?”

“About seeing you?” Jake tried to play innocent but his heart was already starting to beat faster, sending blood flowing through his body in places he’d been neglecting recently. “I think about it all of the time. I’m always thinking about you Danny”.

“What do you do when you think about me and I’m not there?”

“Well” Jake felt a little awkward talking about this over the phone, but he knew he didn’t have anything to be ashamed of so he told him the truth. “Sometimes I take a bath, and I close my eyes and I think about feeling you with me”.

“And does it work? Do you feel me with you?” Danny was starting to sound less teasing with his questioning and more serious as he too pictured Jake in the bath with his back pressed against his chest.

“Sometimes it does, and sometimes I just get frustrated and give up”.

“Oh no, we can’t have that” Danny clicked his tongue. “You know you can always call me for help. I wouldn’t mind walking you through exactly how I’d take care of you”.

Jake started to feel like his room was growing uncomfortably hot. He flipped his blankets off and sat up in bed, Danny noticing the sound of rustling in the background.

“Am I getting you flustered?” Danny snickered, though he hoped Jake wasn’t getting too embarrassed to the point he wouldn’t want to try a few more things over the phone at some point. Tonight didn’t have to go there yet, but he did think if they were going to make this long distance work they would have to break the ice on that matter somehow.

“Shut up, I know you’re getting off on this too” Jake shot back.

Danny laughed a little harder, and it eased Jake’s nerves. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Don’t worry we can work on it, but for tonight I think I’ll let you get some sleep”.

“That might be a little difficult now” Jake mumbled, still trying to get his mind, and body, to calm down. He was definitely going to have some steamy dreams but he couldn’t really complain about that. If anything he envied himself in his dreams since he was the only one getting any real action these days. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow. Sweet dreams”.

Jake checked himself in the full length mirror in the gallery bathroom, making sure his outfit was still perfectly in place before he rejoined the party outside. Josh and his partner had a brief ceremony that mostly consisted of their own vows and exchange of rings. Just enough to satisfy their families since they still planned to elope at the end of spring.

The artwork that usually hung on the expansive white walls were replaced with photos of the happy couple throughout the years of their loving relationship, and fresh flowers decorated surfaces in large crystal vases. One of the rooms that usually held sculpted pieces had been cleared and a temporary dance floor laid down where most of the guests were already putting it to good use.

“Are you going to dance?” Danny asked from behind Jake, startling him for a moment until he rolled his shoulders back and shook his head.

“I don’t dance” Jake replied, eyes searching for something else entirely. “But I do drink” he continued once he spotted the open bar, his feet already carrying him quickly across the room to place an order.

Danny followed him, ordering a beer of his own. “Something tells me after a few of these you might be changing your mind”.

“You’ll be sorely disappointed, but I’m sure you can find someone else to humor you”. There was a bite in Jake’s tone as he sipped from his glass bottle. He’d noticed a few guests eyeing Danny during the ceremony even as Danny stood closely next to Jake. Not that he could blame them though, Danny looked great with his black on black turtle neck and slacks paired with a deep wine colored jacket. His curly hair had been pulled back into a low knot with a few strands pulled free to frame his angular face. When it came to drinking, Jake was more worried about how he was going to behave with this ridiculously hot man following him around all night rather than making a fool of himself dancing.

A few more drinks in and Jake was leaned against the wall watching as his brother and his boyfriend danced without a care in the world. Jake could tell Josh had a few more drinks than usual, but this was his celebration and he was enjoying himself. As was Danny who finally broke away and approached Jake with a determined smile.

“Come on, have one dance with me” Danny pleaded with a pull of his hand. A slow song started to play next, and couples joined the dance floor together. With a huff Jake set his drink down and followed Danny, his feet feeling a little more heavy and tingly than he had registered while standing still.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Danny leaned in to ask once they had their arms wrapped around each other and started to sway with the music.

“I am,” Jake assured him. “Seeing Josh happy makes me happy”.

“He says the same thing about you” Danny chuckled like he was in on a joke Jake was unaware of. When Jake’s brows furrowed he divulged a little more. “Josh is pretty drunk, he may or may not have cornered me while we were dancing earlier to tell me he was glad we’re back together”.

“Ah” At one point in his life Jake would have been annoyed by any interference in his love life, but considering it was Josh who had convinced him to talk to Danny again he decided to let it pass this time.

Speaking of the devil, Josh interrupted their dance, which Jake didn’t complain about either. “We’re about to kick everyone out so we can close up, but a few people are coming back to my place for an after party. You two coming?”

Jake looked up at Danny, he could feel the flush in his cheeks already and because he had arrived so late last night they hadn’t spent any time alone together yet. “Yeah, count us in!” Danny cheerfully answered, his own drunken mind not realizing that Jake was actually trying to call it a night.

”Great! Give us about thirty or so minutes and we should all fit into the van. Danny, you’re more than welcome to stay the night in Jake’s room. Don’t want you trying to get home in this state”. Josh waved his hand around, his own body swaying slightly as he giggled when Jake’s eyes narrowed.

When Josh left them to be again, Danny’s arms circled around Jake tighter as he leaned in again. “Sounds like we’ve got his blessing”.

“I don’t need his permission to do anything” Jake grumbled, “I’m a grown man who makes his own decisions”.

“Oh I don’t doubt that one second”. Danny found Jake’s moody attitude endearing, knowing he was only being grumpy because he was embarrassed about Josh making it a point to invite Danny to stay the night. “I’m just glad those decisions include me”.

Jake cracked a smile, unable to imagine anyone else he’d rather be slow dancing at his twin’s engagement party with. The dance floor was starting to clear as most of the guests were preparing to head home, and Jake thought it the perfect opportunity to press onto his tippy toes and steal a kiss.

”Thanks for coming with me, for giving me another chance, I want to make everything up to you”.

Now that Jake had officially made the first move, Danny reached over to cup his face and pulled him into another deeper kiss. “You already are”.

After a quick restroom break, Danny washed up at the sink before using his wet hands to tame some frizz he hadn’t noticed was sticking up from his bun. He hoped he hadn’t been walking around for too long with it looking like that, his only relief being that everyone had been drinking so much since getting back to Josh’s house that surely no one cared.

Flicking the switch to the bathroom light, Danny stepped back into the dark hallway, no one having bothered to turn on the lights in this part of the house while the party was continuing in full swing elsewhere. The music emanating from the living room masked any sounds that would have clued Danny into the fact that he wasn’t alone in the hallway, and he was at peace until a pair of grabby hands pushed him against the opposite wall.

Lips attacked him next, and if he hadn’t at once been so familiar with their plush tickle then he might’ve faught the stranger off. This was no stranger though, but his lover having given into temptation and taken this opportunity away from the others to pounce.

“Jake,” Danny whispered his name in a laugh that formed deep in his chest as kisses were scattered across his chin, the corner of his mouth, and traveled lower to the small part of his neck exposed by his sweater. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jake replied dryly, barely removing his lips from Danny to speak.

“I don’t know, it’s really dark in here”.

“Well, the bedroom is this way. We can turn the light on if you want. Or not, I don’t care, I just need you”. Jake pulled off, only to drag him deeper into the blackness of the hallway until he heard a door clicking open.

In all the times Danny had visited Josh’s house he’d never been in any of the bedrooms. Inside a small bedside lamp was on, and his eyes needed a minute to adjust before he could take everything in. It was a decently sized room, bigger than the spare bedroom Danny had stayed at in his sister's home. It fit a queen sized bed with a footboard bench that held a carry-on suitcase zipped opened, its contents strewn about.

Before Danny could even comment on the interesting piece of artwork that hung above the bed, Jake was already pushing him down into a seated position on the mattress. His attention was instantly ripped away from his surroundings and Danny was captivated instead by Jake as he stood in front of him and started to strip.

First his suit jacket came off, then he undid the mere three buttons of his vest. The same vest with the swoop neckline that exposed his chest and had Danny ogling him all night.

“Are you going to take something off too? Or are you just going to sit there and stare?” There was an alcoholic infused confidence in Jake’s demeanor paired with a smirk on his face as he reveled in the way Danny was mesmerized by the sight of him.

“Was hoping you’d take this off for me actually”. Danny matched his playful banter, his fingers dancing around the hem of his sweater as Jake bit at his lip in anticipation. “Considering you’re kind of taking the lead”.

Jake was suddenly hyper aware of his actions. They hadn’t talked again about being ready to be intimate, but he’d assumed by the way their calls had started to go from innocent flirtiness to borderline phone sex recently that he and Danny were on the same page here.

“Oh, well, I can dial it down a bit…” he started to fumble his words and his arms came up to cover his now bare chest. Had he gone too far too soon?

Danny quickly caught on to the sudden shift in demeanor and jumped up from the bed, cupped Jake’s face in his hands, and pulled him into another heated kiss. “Please don’t stop Jake. You don’t know how bad I want this”.

“Hmm” Jake hummed against his mouth in relief, “I think I really do”.

With renewed conviction Jake started to back Danny up against the bed again, only this time he joined him by crawling into his lap all while continuing to kiss him vigorously. Like Danny had suggested he broke away to pull his sweater off, tossing it onto the floor with the other discarded pieces and immediately went back to work pressing more kisses to his shoulders and collar.

“Fuck, I missed this” Danny groaned, leaving no more doubt in Jake’s mind about where they were both headed when he reached around and grabbed two handfuls of his backside and pulled him even closer.

Jake muffled a weak moan against the cave of Danny’s neck when their still clothed erections pressed together, and he rocked his hips back and forth to grind into him harder. “Want you Danny, want you so bad”.

“Will you show me?” Danny asked. The alcoholic elixir mixing in his veins swirled through his body and turned every nerve to fire. He needed more.

Jake was far past reservations as well, more than ready to please in any way he could so long as he got some much needed relief of his own. Before they could take things up another notch he knew he needed one more thing, which was packed thoughtfully at the top of his suitcase at the foot of the bed.

Silently he retreated from their embrace leaving Danny flustered and bemused alone on the bed, but only for a moment as he walked around and retrieved a brand new bottle of lube. When he turned around again, Danny was already sliding out of his pants with an amused grin.

“Came prepared this time did we?”

“I don’t see you complaining” Jake cocked a brow as he watched Danny palm himself through his boxers. It was certainly a sight worth beholding, and his mouth watered a bit at the outline of his length bulging through the thin cotton

“If you don’t get your ass back over here soon, I will be” Danny challenged, only accepting having to wait a few seconds longer for Jake to step out of his last bits of clothing first before climbing back into bed.

Greeting him with a kiss, Danny pulled Jake to the middle of the mattress and positioned him on all fours. Jake handed him the bottle, willingly giving over control like passing a baton with full trust Danny could finish the race for them. He heard the sound of the cap popping open and mentally prepared himself for the oncoming feeling of slick fingers lathering up his hole.

Danny was slow and meticulous with opening him up, making sure Jake was doing a good job taking the first finger well before adding another. Jake groaned when he started to scissor him open even wider, adding more lube as he went, the slick sounds of his fingers working filling the room.

Jake’s head was already swimming in pleasure as he angled his hips with an arch of his back and thrust backwards, trying to make Danny’s strong fingers hit that spot.

“Don’t be greedy”. Danny gripped his hip with his opposite hand, holding Jake steady as he leaned over and captured his lips again. As he kissed him, Danny slid his fingers free making Jake cry into his mouth at the loss. “Are you ready for me?”

Jake whimpered and rocked his hips back again, searching for Danny. That was his answer right there. Reaching forward, Danny grabbed one of the many pillows that had been stacked against the headboard and helped tuck it under Jake’s chest.

“Lay down” he whispered next, the hand still gripping Jake’s hip soothingly urging him down as he scooted aside to let Jake’s weak knees collapse onto the bed.

“Danny, please” Jake begged, wrapping an arm around the pillow underneath him and giving it a squeeze. “I can’t wait to be with you anymore”.

“I know Jake” Danny conceded. He hooked a thumb into the waistband of his boxers, the front of the cotton already damp with precum, and slid them off before positioning himself over Jake’s round backside. Slowly he used his hand to part his cheeks, his tip sliding across his entrance to gather some lube before pressing inside.

Jake gasped at the initial shock of being filled again but within seconds his body was already adjusting, relaxing and allowing Danny in deeper until he was buried to the hilt. Before he could move Danny grabbed a hold of Jake’s shoulder to steady himself, his eyes screwing shut as he concentrated on not busting right there.

Once he pulled himself far enough back from the edge Danny lowered himself like a blanket over Jake’s entire back, hooked his chin around his shoulder, and nuzzled his face next to his. Jake felt a fuzzy tingle spread across his body when Danny started to roll his hips into him, the pressure of the weight on top of him keeping his physical form grounded as the rest of him drifted into ecstasy.

“Fuck Danny, feel so full” Jake was a moaning mess now, hugging the pillow tightly with the rest of his body trapped and unable to move. In all other cases Jake might’ve been uncomfortable with the position leaving him completely vulnerable and helpless, but in this instance Danny felt like a comfort he’d never get rid of. An all encompassing shelter of love and affection he felt with each steady thrust.

“God you feel like heaven” Danny muttered, half in response to Jake, and half just a mindless uttering of the irrepressible feelings he had right now. “I’m already so close”.

“Oh Danny… Danny, Danny, Danny” Jake repeated over and over again, a mantra formed deep in his heart bleeding further from him every time it pumped against his ribcage. It was overwhelming the emotion he felt, and a singular tear slipped free that he quickly dried against the pillow before Danny could see.

Danny pressed a kiss to Jake’s shoulder and lifted up a little, giving Jake a bit more room to breathe which he needed now that Danny braced himself and started to thrust at full force. “I’m gonna cum Jake, is that what you want?”

Jake didn’t respond, only bit down onto the corner of the pillow now to save the rest of the house from having to hear what they were up to since disappearing together.

“Tell me Jake or I swear to God I’ll stop right now, flip you over, and fuck you until the sun comes up”.

Though the offer did sound slightly appealing, Jake was already exhausted and beyond ready for relief. “Fuck Danny yes! Yes I want you to cum in me”.

“Here it is baby, all for you” Danny managed to bite out before spilling inside, filling Jake with his warmth just as Jake came himself with nothing but the friction of Danny fucking him into the mattress.

Holding his breath waiting for Danny to pull out Jake let his eyes flutter shut, reveling in the post-high buzz. Danny managed instead to slide his arms underneath his chest and rolled them both onto their sides, spooning Jake while still tucked inside.

They laid there for a while, synchronizing their breaths back down to a steady pace.

“I don’t want to ever be parted from you” Jake confessed in a hushed tone. “You make me feel whole”.

“I’m right here” Danny whispered back, wrapping his arms tighter around the smaller man and barely twitching his hips, just enough for Jake to feel it and know he was still there.

Jake craned his neck back, looking over his shoulder to see Danny was already starting to drift off. They both knew what Jake had meant, he didn’t mean now but what about tomorrow when he went back home? What about next month when the pain of missing each other started to really set in? Then after that, when would they see each other next? Get to fall asleep in each other's arms?

None of those questions could be answered now, but what Jake could do was try to enjoy the time he did have with him. So Jake pressed his lips softly to Danny’s, leaving him with a promising kiss and nestled back against the pillows.

In the morning Jake slipped out of bed without waking a still sleeping Danny. At some point in the night they had become separated, and Danny had managed to get them both under the covers protected from the crisp morning air. After a quick stop by the bathroom, Jake stumbled into the kitchen expecting it to be empty.

“You look like you could use some coffee” Josh spoke up, startling Jake into full consciousness where he’d previously been walking around the house half-awake in a sleepy daze.

“What are you doing up already?” Jake questioned, his gaze zeroing in on the steaming mug Josh held in his hands. “And yes, I need some coffee pronto”.

“I haven’t really gone to bed yet”. Josh admit, watching through red-rimmed eyes as Jake pulled the largest mug he could find out of the cabinet and poured himself some of the black gold. “You missed quite a bit of party”.

“I was partied out, you know my social battery drains quickly” Jake tried to use a good excuse, but Josh’s lift of his brows showed he knew there were ulterior motives at play.

“Speaking of draining activities”.

Jake tried to take a sip of his coffee just as he looked up and saw Danny waltzing through the threshold to join them. He had pulled his slacks from last night back on which sat low on his hips, clearly no underwear underneath since they’d been ruined. His torso was bare still and he was stretching upwards as he yawned, the muscles of his shoulders and chest flexing. Memories from last night came flooding back to the front of Jake’s mind and he choked on the piping hot liquid making Josh snicker next to him.

“You look glowing” Josh accounted with his own sip, barely getting any in his mouth before Jake elbowed him in the side.

“And you two look like train wrecks” Danny responded, not even acknowledging the silly brotherly antics between the twins. It was too early for that. “Hey, you’ve got coffee?”

“Yeah! Want some?” Josh offered his mug, and before Danny could reach across the table to accept Jake was jumping up to find him his own to drink from.

“I’m going to take a shower and start getting ready. Josh are you still up for taking me to the airport or should I go try and find Sam somewhere?”

“Please, Sam was worse off than I was when he passed out on the couch last night. He’s not waking anytime soon. I’m fine”.

“I’m not worried about the ride there,” Jake continued as he handed Danny a clean mug and showed him where the sugar was. “but I don’t want you falling asleep behind the wheel coming back by yourself. The airport is pretty far from here”.

“Well then Danny should just come too,” Josh turned towards the man in question who had just been trying to mix his coffee. “I can drop you back off at your place after?”

“Yeah” Danny shrugged. He figured he’d just get a ride home with Sam later since he was the one who had picked him up the night before, but this way he could spend a little more time with Jake. “I’d love to come”.

“It’s settled then” Josh stood and placed his empty cup in the sink, stopping to give Jake’s shoulder a loving squeeze before excusing himself to freshen up.

“How did you sleep?” Danny asked, his eyes looking Jake up and down like he was trying to gauge whether or not he was physically okay.

“Really good actually” Jake huffed as he took another drink of his coffee before it cooled down too much. “Just woke up with a little hangover, I haven’t drank like that in a while”. More and more memories started to come back as he drank. Slow dancing at the gallery, taking shots with Danny and his brothers as soon as they got back to the house, attacking Danny in the hallway… falling asleep wrapped in strong arms.

“Yeah, last night was…” Danny paused to find the correct words he wanted to use to describe it, “a lot. So you’re okay then?”

Jake looked over his mug with a puzzled expression, thinking why wouldn’t I be okay?

Noticing his confusion Danny decided to explain a little more where his worry came from. “I mean things are still a little fuzzy, but I didn’t like crush you or anything did I?”

Jake’s cheeks flamed red embarrassment at the realization that Danny was afraid he’d hurt him during sex.

Danny immediately set to apologizing, “Sorry! I was drunk, and you were coming on really strong. It was really hot and I just couldn’t hold myself back”.

“Shhh!” Jake jumped up from his chair again and clapped a hand over Danny’s mouth effectively cutting him off and silencing him. “You didn’t hurt me” he corrected in a hushed voice, “quite the opposite actually”.

Hesitantly Jake removed his hand, revealing a shy smile underneath. “So, it was as good for you as it was for me?” Danny asked again, this time in the same quiet tone even though he was sure no one else in the house was even capable of listening to them right now.

“I mean, I’ve never done that before so yeah”.

“That?” Danny blinked at him, now being the one confused about what the other was referring to.

Jake glanced around the kitchen, making sure Josh wasn’t about to pop up from anywhere. When he determined the coast was still clear he leaned in closer to speak even quieter. “I’ve never, cum without being touched before”.

“Oh…” Danny’s mouth formed the actual letter ‘O’ before pulling into a wide grin, “Oh, so you really liked it then?” His arms circled around Jake’s torso and his lips tickled his ear with a whisper. “You were so fucking hot, all I’m going to be able to think about for days is how good I fucked you last night”.

“Danny” Jake hissed, trying and failing to pry himself out of Danny’s embrace.

“Say my name like you said it last night baby. Sounded like music when you moaned it over and over and over”.

Jake wasn’t sure if he was trying to get him riled up or not, but the front of his pants were growing tighter the more he teased him like this. “Need to clean up before we leave” he gave up on trying to free himself and Danny pulled back to look at him, glancing down at the half hard-on pressed up against his thigh. “Shower. Now”.

Danny spent about half of their shower making up for not having touched Jake last night, and Jake hoped the sound of the water drowned out his whimpers as Danny sucked him off. The other half was quickly washing up, Jake had to board his flight in three hours and it was going to take at least one to get to the airport.

Josh didn’t mind that Jake chose to sit in the backseat with Danny, in fact he kept smiling to himself every time he looked through the rearview mirror and saw them saddled up next to each other, their hands intertwined together in Danny’s lap and Jake’s head resting on his shoulder. His brother looked so at peace beside him and it warmed his heart to finally see him happy and content again.

“I’m going to find somewhere to toss this real quick” Josh announced as he pulled up to the passenger drop off area. He threw the car in park but left it on as he collected an empty bottle of water and started to wander off, clearly just trying to give the two of them some privacy to say their goodbyes.

“It's not long enough” Jake sighed as he turned and pressed his forehead to Danny’s who reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It’s never going to be long enough”.

“It’s just temporary” Danny tried to console him even though his own heart was breaking to let him go. It was in moments like these he understood why Jake didn’t want to do this in the beginning, but he’d experienced the pain of thinking he’d lost him for good and that was far worse in comparison.

Come with me, I’ll buy you a ticket right now Jake desperately wanted to say, but he knew how big of an ask that was. “Until I see you again then?”

“I can’t wait” Danny smiled, his thumb gently caressing his cheek before pulling Jake into a bittersweet kiss.

Josh returned just as they were both getting out of the car. Jake hugged Danny then turned and pulled his brother into one as well and they both watched as he disappeared into the terminal. “You moving up front?” He asked and Danny nodded solemnly.

They made it a good few miles away from the airport in complete silence, not even any music playing, just the sound of Josh’s blinker clicking when he changed lanes.

“This must be hard on you guys” Josh finally broke, needing to talk now before his eyes grew too heavy.

“He’s worth it” Danny replied without turning his face from where he watched the landscape fly by outside the window.

“I of all people know that” Josh chuckled, checking his mirrors before passing another slow car on the highway. “But have you two talked about what you’re going to do? You can’t keep this up forever”.

Danny sighed, leaning his head against the rest in frustration that wasn’t directed at Josh, just at the world in general. “Not really. I know he’s busy but I think he’s been avoiding the topic”.

“Well, have you tried bringing it up then?” Josh felt partially like he shouldn’t be dabbling this much, but on the other hand he’d had to push Jake this far. Maybe Danny needed a little push as well. “What is it you want Danny?”

“I just want to be with him, support him, be there to drop off and pick Luna up from school, have dinner together every night. I want it all, just as long as it’s with him”.

“So you love him then”.

Danny looked at Josh now, studying the stoic face that looked so similar to that of his lover especially from this angle. “Absolutely I do”.

“Then you should go tell him that. I know for a fact he’s in love with you. I just can’t stand to see either of you like this, you’re torturing yourselves. I think you’ve both proven that this is the real deal, so why continue this way?”

“I guess I’ve just been trying to give him some time to sort everything out. I don’t want to impose or anything”.

Josh chuckled and shook his head. For two idiots in love they really did need a lot of guidance. “Jake always puts everyone else first. He’s not going to ask you to give up your life here to be with him. If it’s truly what you want then you need to just make it happen”.

Danny pondered Josh’s advice for a while. Could he really do that? There wasn’t anyone who knew Jake better than his brother right? So if Josh thought that was the best way then maybe he needed to take a leap of faith.

“Anyways, it's just something to think about” Josh shrugged. If he got through to him then great, and if not then he and Jake would just have to figure things out on their own.

“Thanks Josh” Danny replied, “Jake is really lucky to have you”.

“Hey, you’ve got me too. I already consider you like another little brother, just don’t let Sam get it in his head that he’s not the youngest anymore”. Josh flashed a smile, and Danny gave him one back. A genuine smile that showed Josh really had made a difference.

When Jake made it home he picked Luna up from his in-laws house. She slept in the car the whole way home and they had dinner together before she got a bath and headed back to bed, exhausted after a long weekend at the grandparents.

He had sent both Josh and Danny ‘made it home’ texts before laying Luna down. Josh hadn’t replied, but he figured he was probably still sleeping off the night before. Danny however, the message showed that it had been read but there was also no reply. Jake tried not to think anything of it and pulled his laptop out to prepare a bit for work in the morning before deciding to call it without any calls tonight.

In the morning he accidentally slept in later than he had planned to, still feeling jet lagged even after just one quick afternoon flight. He jumped out of bed and quickly got Luna dressed for school, rushing out the door without checking his phone.

It was lunch time already before he had a second to breathe. Locking himself in his office Jake pulled out his lunch that was sloppily packed in a hurry this morning and realized he had grabbed one of Luna’s snack boxes instead of his left overs. With a sigh he pulled his phone out, trying to find something he could get delivered before his next meeting. After placing an order he swiped out of the app and noticed he had a few missed notifications. Josh had liked his message about making it back last night, and Sam had sent him a link to an event happening in Nashville this summer that he’d talked about wanting to meet up for. He shot Sam a quick response that he was welcome any time then went looking for a notification from Danny. There was nothing.

That was a bit weird. Usually Danny always sent him a good morning text, but maybe it had slipped his mind, or maybe he had been running late today just like Jake was. Jake took the initiative himself then and saw his new message pop up right underneath his last. His lunch arrived before he ever got a response, and after that it was back to business until five o’clock.

Instead of cooking dinner Jake ate the leftovers he was supposed to have had for lunch. He washed the dish in the sink along with Luna’s bowl and cup and moved the laundry over from the washer to dryer before collapsing onto the couch to relax with a movie he wasn’t as interested in as his daughter was, but it was nice to cuddle with her after a long day.

Before he knew it he was blinking his eyes open and it was dark in the living room, the movie having long been over and they both fell asleep somewhere in the middle. “Come on princess, let's get you to bed” he scooped Luna up and carried her off to her bedroom, tucking her in and easing the door shut behind him.

It only took a few minutes to clear the dryer out, leaving Luna’s clothes folded to be put away later and carrying his laundry with him to his own bedroom. Jake tossed the clothes onto his bed when he felt his phone vibrating in his back pocket. Josh’s name and contact lit up his screen, not exactly who he had been hoping it was calling, but not at all unexpected at this time.

“Hey” he answered, putting the call on speaker so he could keep putting everything away as Josh spoke.

“I heard you guys got some snow today?”

“If you can call this snow” Jake replied as he folded pants and placed them in his drawers. “There’s barely an inch on the ground and everybody is freaking out”.

“Guess you couldn’t get away from it” Josh’s laugh was muffled like he was holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder.

“Are you at home?” Jake questioned.

“No, I'm shopping. Why?”

“No reason”. It was silly to be worried about Danny, but Jake couldn’t shake this feeling that he was missing something important. Josh picked up on his unease and paused what he was doing to ask him what was the matter. “It’s just I haven’t heard from Danny since leaving yesterday. I’m wondering if I should just call him”.

“Jake seriously?” Josh scoffed, “stop being so weird about it and just call him. I’m hanging up now”.

“But-” Jake tried to argue a point he knew would be moot but Josh really did end the call there. He debated just sending another text, but since the last two had gone unnoticed he hit the call button and let it ring. After just two attempts the call went straight to voicemail.

Jake frowned as he hung up without leaving a voicemail. Something was up, but he wasn’t sure what. They had left things on a good note, or so he had thought. Anxiety started to bubble in his stomach and irrational thoughts started to plague his mind. What could he have done to make Danny ignore him now? Surely he hadn’t decided after saying goodbye at the airport that this was all too much.

Trying not to jump to unlikely conclusions Jake plugged his phone in and left it on his nightstand as he did his nighttime routine in the bathroom and got ready for bed. Only about twenty minutes had passed, but he checked his phone again before laying down and still, nothing. With a huff he pulled the covers over his shoulder and turned the other way forcing his eyes closed even though he wasn’t tired after his accidental nap.

At that point there was no telling how much time had passed when he heard his phone buzz. For a second he tried to ignore it, focus on going to sleep so he wouldn’t be tired in the morning, but he couldn’t handle not checking who it was. Sitting up he unlocked the screen and Danny’s message sting pulled up.

Go look out your front window.

Jake’s heart thumped heavily in his chest as he read the message over a few times, thinking he might be seeing things then wondering exactly what this could mean when he determined it was real. Shuffling back onto his feet, Jake forwent his slippers and pad barefoot through his house, the small blue light of his cell phone screen illuminating his way to the front door.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking for, and when he didn’t see anything at first he thought this was some cruel joke. But then his eyes focused in the dark and he saw it, on the ground carved into the snow was a heart.

Jake flicked the front porch light on and threw the door open, running out recklessly into the cold to try and catch whoever had been in his yard before they got away. He got all the way to the street before his feet started to ache and burn and he had to turn back empty handed, or so he thought until he saw the figure standing on his porch.

“I’m sorry, I was supposed to be here hours ago. My flight got delayed for the weather and I was too scared to tell you I was coming. Please don’t be upset with me-” Danny tried to explain when he saw Jake’s eyes grow round in shock.

Jake didn’t need any explanation though, he just needed proof he was really here. So he ran forward again, this time colliding with the body in front of him and smashing their lips together.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jake breathed, both hands cupping Danny’s face like he might disappear again if he didn’t have a hold on him.

“There’s something I need to tell you Jake. It couldn’t wait until I saw you again, so when I got home yesterday I spent the rest of the night putting things together to get here, and well Sam gave me your address”. Danny kept talking, nervously reciting bits and pieces of a monologue he’d spent too long at the airport trying to put together.

Even though he was freezing, Jake waited on baited breath to hear what Danny had come all this way to say. Nothing in the world could have moved him from that spot until he knew what was so important Danny needed to get on a flight to come see him in person.

“Jake” Danny began, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I love you, and it’s okay if you’re not ready to say it back. I just couldn’t let you go one more night alone without knowing that I am so desperately in love with you-”

Jake cut him off again with another swift kiss, this one lingering longer than the first.

“I love you too”.

“Really?” Danny sounded surprised, but happy nonetheless.

“Yes really! Danny, I love you so much” Jake repeated with even more emphasis and emotion before Danny captured his lips again.

“Can I come inside? You’re shivering” Danny asked, his numb fingers squeezing Jake’s sides.

“Of course you can. This is your home too”.

Danny’s smile faded at the implications of what Jake had said. “Can it really? Can this really be my home too?”

“It always has been Danny” Jake admit, moving to take his hand and guide him through the threshold. “When I was looking for a new home, I picked this one because I couldn’t help but picture all of us here, together”.

As helpless as it was, that was the truth. Even with his mind already having been made up to end things, when Jake found this house he was overwhelmed with the sense that this was where his family was supposed to be, and Danny was included in that dream.

“Well, sometime tomorrow you can show me around, but for tonight let’s go to bed”.

Jake couldn’t hide the smile that swept across his face even in the night as he continued back down the hallway with Danny still in tow. “Come on, our bedroom is this way”.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Jake never imagined his life would end up the definition of domestic bliss. The days were filled with boisterous laughter and happiness, the nights with whispered devotion and heartfelt promises. He loved his daughter, he loved his boyfriend, he loved his family. And life was never better.

Thanks for reading! @kultavalo @sanguinebats @gracev0609 @lipstickitty @lyndz2names @freyjalw

[s0fter-sin]

patty walters uploading to youtube again is healing something within me

[journey-to-the-attic]

late halloween drawing! went for a little ddvd au thing because it's been on my mind lately (though i draw regular ik so small sometimes you might not even be able to tell)

and bonus! cryptids spotted crossing the road (asmo snuck up and caught levi unawares)

[pain-in-the-butler]

A compilation of art for my Dadbastian fanfic Coattails that I commissioned from the incredibly talented @tomoyoo! They went above and beyond with the details... Each picture feels as cozy and warm as a storybook, right? I'm so delighted with how they turned out!! Thank you for making each one so beautiful! 🥹🥹🥹

[bookshelf-in-progress]

It turns out that I never research because it makes me think the details are the point instead of the story.

The story is the point! It doesn't matter if I don't have an entire world with all its history and cultural and political customs realistically fleshed out! Focus on the story and fill in the details later!

[extravagav]

WELCOME BACK MEGUMI FUSHIGURO AND GOJO SATORU 🗣️🗣️🗣️

[bonefall]

So, since BB!Ivypool will use her newfound deputy status to force a confrontation with Dovewing- how would she react if Dovewing snaps and told her to her face that she never, EVER wanted to speak with her again after everything? Like, would it click for her that even if she deeply regrets the way she treated her sister, no matter how sorry she is its up to Dovewing if she's ever forgiven? Or does she blame Heartstar thinking she turned her sister against her?

Let's pop open the hood of BB!Ivypool and her fucked up little life, and every person she's been leading up to the end of BB!TBC.

All of this starts with her father, Lionblaze, raising her with this axiom; That you are given strength to serve your Clan.

While he used Dovepaw and her powers in service of ThunderClan (often fighting with her mentor, Birchfall), Lionblaze encouraged his daughter to involve herself in Dark Forest training. Ivypaw felt like this was how she "earned" affection from her Ba, with hard work.

Just as Lionblaze believed that his physical abuse at the paw of Ashfur made him stronger, Ivypool also came to believe that growing up thrown to the wolves made her stronger too.

So when Dovewing first started to... not even REJECT the idea, just display any resentment towards it at all, it's like a personal slight.

No one ever fucking listens to Dovewing. No one cares what she wants. Just what she can do for them.

And Ivypool was super part of that. Her mentor is Brightheart, who often overexerts herself as an expression of PTSD. She saw Hawkfrost "die" turning against Tigerstar for the greater good. She sees Bumblestripe "working so hard" to "help Dovewing adjust" while she's losing her hearing.

In her eyes, Dovewing was being selfish. Look at all these people who give EVERYTHING to their Clans-- how dare you try and make it about yourself?

Tigerheart, in and out of their life constantly, gets blamed because it's a lot easier to pin it all on the Evil Codebreaking Foreigner than admit that maybe Dovewing has a point. Ah HA! THERE is the villain responsible for making my sister act weird! I knew it all along!

(Plus Tigerheart and Ivypool got pitted against each other a LOT in DF training because Ivy was Hawkfrost's apprentice and Tigerheart was Tigerstar's, for some incredibly fucked up projection reasons you'd expect of Tunnelbunstar. Ivypool will nonsensically blame Tigerheart like she's a Dinkleberg.)

(Also tbf tigerheart would 100% let her believe it, 1. Because it's funny, and 2. Because it takes the heat off Dovewing)

And Ivypool was VICIOUS about this. AVoS is still getting shuffled but if anything vindictive she did towards Dove in that arc gets removed, I will replace it with something just as bad. She would actively sabotauge ShadowClan if it meant keeping Tigerheart away from Dovewing.

She can't handle the thought of losing Dovewing. At some point, it became about control. It's her insecurity towards herself, towards her family, towards all of her losses, and even towards service of her very Clan.

And then Dovewing booked it. Couldn't handle this shit and panicked and BAILED.

And THEN it's about getting Dovewing BACK. She's even dragged Fernsong into this and tried to leverage his friendship with Dovewing to this end. She'll even support Bumblestripe when he tries to argue for an invalidation of Queen’s Rights on technicality.

Ivypool: "Those kits are Bumblestripe's! He has a claim! They even have HIS MANE"

Heartstar: "Hmm. No, it is very clearly MY mane."

Ivypool: "You can't-- wait what?"

Heartstar: "Lightkit even has my beautiful smile <3 so fuck off, maybe?"

For a long time that's where Ivypool was. She was the awful, vindictive sister-in-law constantly trying to weasel in to make Dovewing feel bad. When she had kittens of her own, she was still in this mindset.

It didn't end well. In BB!TBC, Bristlefrost needed her. Ivypool stepped in to prevent her from being the impostor's pawn, but refused to do anything when she was caught and imprisoned for being in a HalfClan relationship. She needed to be punished as a codebreaker.

Brought to the next Gathering, the impostor reiterated the need to enforce the code, and desperate times calling for desperate measures. He called for SkyClan to punish their own warrior. They refused to make this a public spectacle.

So he sliced open her throat, right on the branch beside him.

Ivypool didn't imagine she would be KILLED. Suddenly her whole world shattered. The moon stayed clear and bright. Her daughter was dead before she hit the ground and she had HERSELF to blame.

Dovewing and Ivypool served in the rebellion together, and eventually Ivy went into the Dark Forest as a Light in the Mist. She watched Bristlefrost die, AGAIN, knocking Ashfur out of the sky and burning them both up in orbit, and how brave Shadowsight had been in pinning him in place.

Ivypool NEEDS Dovewing to know now that she's different. She's learned a lot. She understands so, so much more now...

But DOES she? She still hates Heartstar's guts. She still feels abandoned. How different ARE you now, Ivypool, with your renewed interest in finding some petty reason to skirt around Dovewing's direct wishes? When you're still here getting into blowout arguments with Heartstar?

So to answer the question, if Dovewing told her directly, "I WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR DESPERATION. IM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR FEELINGS. PISS OFF"

Ivypool would not be able to accept that.

It just wouldn't stick, ever. It really is desperation. Dovewing NEEDS to know that Ivypool loves her and misses her, and that she understands, but also that Heartstar is delusional, and this is still kind of Dovewing's fault. And Ivypool will do anything to make her know this.

But I also DO want to say; this is a very unique weakness. It is Dovewing Derangement Syndrome. Ivypool is a competent deputy, and she is a devoted and respected warrior of ThunderClan. It will be no surprise she's being picked for deputy, especially considering (god willing) Squirrelstar is seeking war with ShadowClan.

She is a good friend, mate, and leader. But BB!Ivypool is so, so fucked in the head about Dovewing. This family can fit so much trauma in it

[cosmothealien358]

Just finished season 6 of the Dragon Prince

(More coherent thoughts in tags)