#it is a very different race from the back

[faithshouseofchaos]

Oscar piastri x Webber!fem!reader

Word count— 5870

@0rrphiic - this one is for you I’m finally getting around to it

Summary — Oscar developed feelings for his mentors oldest daughter and will do anything for her attention.

Requested — yes

Warnings — reader is older than Oscar by two years 23/25, Oscar being desperate for the reader’s attention, fluff,

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Oscar Piastri had never been great at hiding his feelings, but he was getting much better at pretending. Or at least, that’s what he told himself whenever he found himself blushing or stammering around Mark Webber’s eldest daughter, Y/N.

Y/N was everything Oscar wasn’t—confident, quick-witted, and effortlessly charming. At twenty-five , she carried herself with an ease that made everyone around her feel comfortable—except for Oscar. She was three years older than him, and even though they had known each other for a while through family gatherings and the racing world, he still hadn’t quite figured out how to act around her.

They had become friends, or at least, that’s what Oscar told himself. They spent time together at the track, had coffee during breaks, and shared occasional laughs at dinner. But it was clear to him that he was in much deeper waters than Y/N realized. Every time her laughter echoed across a room, or her eyes lingered on him just a second too long, Oscar’s heart raced in a way he couldn’t control.

Y/N was effortlessly kind, but Oscar couldn’t shake the feeling that he was different when he was around her. His usual composed demeanor faltered. He was desperate for her attention, but he couldn’t bring himself to confess what he felt. She was too perfect, too out of his league, or so he thought.

It was a late evening at the Monaco Grand Prix, and the team had gathered for a quiet dinner after a long day of racing. The grand dining room was bustling with low conversations and the clinking of glasses, but Oscar couldn’t focus on anything but the empty seat next to Y/N at the table. He’d been hoping she would sit next to him, but of course, she ended up beside Mark, her dad. It was hard to compete with a legend.

Oscar was doing his best to follow the conversation, but it felt like his mind was elsewhere. Every few minutes, his gaze would drift over to where Y/N sat. She was relaxed, casual in a deep blue dress that highlighted her effortless beauty, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. She smiled as Mark animatedly told a story from his racing days, and her laugh—light and genuine—made his stomach do a flip.

As she caught his eye, a soft smile tugged at her lips. “Oscar,” she called, her voice warm but teasing. “You’re looking a little distracted there. Something on your mind?”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat. Was she talking to him? He quickly tore his eyes away, not wanting to get caught staring, but it was too late. “Uh, no,” he stammered, suddenly feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Just… thinking about the race tomorrow.”

“Uh-huh.” Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying his excuse. She glanced around, her gaze shifting to the other drivers before locking back on him. “You know, you’re not very good at hiding when you’re nervous, Piastri.”

Oscar felt his throat tighten. His mouth went dry. “I’m not nervous,” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

She smirked, the corner of her lips quirking up in that playful, knowing way that sent his mind racing. “Sure,” she said with a mock-serious tone, “if you say so.”

The teasing was gentle, but Oscar couldn’t shake the feeling that she was deliberately picking on him. It wasn’t cruel—just playful. Still, every comment made him more aware of his own discomfort, his growing crush that he didn’t know how to hide.

Before he could formulate a response, Y/N turned her attention back to Mark, who was laughing about some past racing mishap. Oscar was left to fidget with his napkin, his mind trying to replay every moment of that exchange. Why did he always seem to make a fool of himself when she was around?

At least she seemed to enjoy it.

Later, as the conversation lulled and the group began to break off into smaller clusters, Y/N shifted in her seat and turned to Oscar. “You look like you need to breathe,” she said with a soft laugh. “Come for a walk with me?”

Oscar’s heart skipped, and for a moment, he almost choked on his words. “I—I’d like that,” he managed to say, suddenly wishing he could be more composed.

They wandered outside, away from the noise of the restaurant and onto the quiet streets of Monaco, the evening air cool against their skin. Y/N fell into an easy rhythm, chatting about the city and pointing out little places she liked, but Oscar couldn’t focus on anything other than the proximity between them. It felt like a moment of calm after all the racing chaos, but it also felt like the quiet before a storm.

“So,” Y/N started, after a comfortable silence settled between them, “what’s really going on in that head of yours? You’ve been off all night.”

Oscar swallowed. “I’m just… tired, I guess. Long day, you know?” He wasn’t sure what else to say. His mind was spinning in circles, but every time he looked at her, the words evaporated.

Y/N gave him a soft, knowing smile, as if she could see right through him. “Oscar, you’re the worst liar I know. But, I guess I’ll let you off the hook this time. Just know, you don’t have to act like you have it all figured out all the time.”

Oscar’s chest tightened. He nodded slowly, but inside, his thoughts were loud. He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her friendship, how much he longed for something more. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

They continued walking, the city lights casting long shadows on the cobblestone streets. And as much as he wanted to let go, to tell her how he felt, all Oscar could do was try to keep up, both in the conversation and in his own heart. But with every laugh, every teasing comment, and every shared glance, it was becoming harder and harder to deny—he was falling for her, and he had no idea what to do about it.

Oscar Piastri was not one to back down from a challenge, but when it came to Y/N, he was starting to realize that his usual strategy of keeping his emotions in check wasn’t going to work. The more time he spent around her, the more impossible it became to hide his feelings. He tried. He really did. But every time she smiled, every time she laughed at one of his half-jokes, it felt like his heart was about to explode out of his chest.

He’d tried distracting himself. Focus on the race. Focus on the team. It was the Monaco Grand Prix, after all. One of the biggest races of the season. But there she was, again, sitting at the table next to him in the paddock, laughing with Mark about something from his racing days. Oscar couldn’t stop glancing over at her. It was embarrassing how often his gaze wandered toward her. She noticed, of course. And, of course, she teased him about it.

“So, Piastri,” Y/N said with that teasing glint in her eyes, “I caught you looking at me again. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Oscar felt a surge of heat rise to his face. He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “Uh, I wasn’t— I mean, I wasn’t looking. I was just… thinking,” he stammered, hoping it sounded convincing.

“Right.” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

Oscar opened his mouth, about to make an excuse, when Mark chimed in, cutting him off. “Come on, you two,” Mark said, laughing. “You can’t both act like you’re not secretly into racing gossip. You know I’m the best source in the paddock.”

Oscar tried to smile, but he was still flustered from the previous exchange. “Of course, Mark,” he said, focusing on the conversation, but his thoughts kept circling back to Y/N. He needed to get a grip.

Later that evening, they were outside the team’s hospitality, watching the sunset over Monaco’s winding streets. The day had been long, and the tension from the race still hung in the air, but for once, Oscar felt a little more at ease. Y/N had invited him for a walk, just like they had done a few days ago.

They stood side by side, their footsteps light on the cobblestones as they talked about everything and nothing at all. Y/N’s laugh still echoed in his ears, and the way her hair fluttered in the evening breeze made his heart race. Oscar was tired of this. Tired of pretending. Tired of being the friend when all he could think about was the girl standing next to him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, actually,” Oscar said, his voice quiet, his hands shoved into his pockets to keep them from trembling. “I’ve been thinking… a lot… about things.”

Y/N glanced at him, her curiosity piqued. “What’s on your mind, Piastri?”

Oscar hesitated. This was it. The moment where he could finally say it, tell her everything that had been building up in his chest for months. The moment to confess how he felt.

“I… I’ve just been…” He started, but his words caught in his throat. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and his nerves were making it impossible to speak clearly. “Y/N, I—”

Before he could finish, a loud shout interrupted him. “Oi, Oscar! You coming or what?”

It was Lando, jogging over with a grin plastered across his face. Oscar cursed under his breath as Lando stopped in front of them, completely oblivious to the moment that had just been shattered.

“Lando,” Oscar said through gritted teeth, “what’s up?”

Lando, sensing something was off, gave him a questioning look but shrugged it off. “Just wanted to check in before we head back. You’re not bailing on us, right?”

Oscar glanced at Y/N, frustration bubbling up inside him. He was so close, so close to telling her how he felt, and now here was Lando, ruining it like always.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Oscar said, forcing a smile as he turned back to Y/N. “Sorry, I’ll catch up with you.”

“No worries.” Y/N smiled, though there was a hint of something in her eyes that Oscar couldn’t quite place. She stepped back slightly, her hand brushing against his in the process. “You go have fun. I’ll see you later.”

Oscar watched her walk away, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He cursed himself for not being able to find the right words, and worse, for allowing Lando to spoil it. His feelings for Y/N were only getting stronger, but it was becoming increasingly clear that every time he tried to confess, something always got in the way.

The next day, Oscar couldn’t shake the feeling of failure. As he prepared for the race, his thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N. The way she looked at him. The way she smiled when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. Did she know? Was she waiting for him to say something? Or was she just being friendly?

After the race, Oscar found himself standing on the pit wall, trying to calm his racing heart from the adrenaline of finishing the day. His mind was still on Y/N, and he couldn’t help but glance around the paddock for her. When he finally spotted her, standing with Mark by the barriers, he felt a mixture of relief and nerves.

“Hey, Oscar!” Y/N’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he turned to see her walking toward him, that same friendly smile on her face. “Great race today.”

Oscar grinned, though he was still flustered from the conversation that never happened the night before. “Thanks, Y/N. You were watching?”

“Of course.” She gave him a playful nudge. “You didn’t think I’d miss it, did you?”

His heart skipped. “Well, it’s Monaco. Big race. You know… lots of distractions.” He couldn’t stop himself from rambling, his words tumbling out faster than he intended.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure the only distraction here is you, Piastri.” She winked, her teasing tone making him blush harder.

That was it. Oscar had reached his breaking point. He had to tell her. This was the moment.

“Y/N, I—”

But before he could finish, a voice interrupted them again.

“Oscar! We’re heading out for drinks. You in?”

It was Lando, once again, barging into the conversation without a second thought.

Oscar’s shoulders slumped, defeated. “Yeah, sure. I’ll catch up.” He turned back to Y/N, giving her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I—I need to go.”

“No worries,” Y/N said, though her smile seemed a little distant this time. “I’ll see you around, Piastri.”

As Oscar walked away, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was his last chance to tell her how he felt. But once again, it slipped through his fingers, lost to the chaos that seemed to follow him around.

Oscar couldn’t escape the feeling that time was slipping away from him. Every moment he spent with Y/N was a fleeting chance to finally say what he had been holding back for so long. But each time he tried, something—or someone—stopped him. It wasn’t just Lando or bad timing; it was his own fear, the overwhelming pressure to get it right.

The more he saw Y/N, the more confused he became. She was kind, funny, and effortlessly beautiful, and every time their eyes met, Oscar felt a spark that left him breathless. But he couldn’t make sense of it. Were they friends? Was it something more? He couldn’t bring himself to find out.

It had been a week since Monaco, and the tension between them only seemed to grow. The awkward moments had become more frequent, as Oscar tried harder to suppress his feelings, but the frustration was building. He could barely concentrate during meetings, and every time Y/N passed him in the paddock, his heart would skip.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling practice session, Oscar found himself walking toward the team’s garage when he saw Y/N sitting on the steps outside. She was looking down at her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration, her fingers scrolling slowly. It was a rare quiet moment, and Oscar couldn’t resist walking over.

“Hey,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N looked up, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “Oh, hey! How was the session?” she asked, giving him that warm smile that made his stomach twist in knots.

“It was alright,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Tiring. But, you know, what else is new?”

She laughed softly, a sound that always seemed to melt him. “Yeah, racing. It’s like a never-ending marathon.” She patted the space beside her on the steps. “Come sit with me for a bit. You look like you need a break.”

Oscar hesitated. He wanted to sit with her, wanted to be near her, but the closer he got, the harder it became to control the whirlwind of emotions inside him. Still, he took a deep breath and sat next to her, trying to act casual.

They fell into easy conversation, but Oscar was distracted. Every time Y/N’s laughter rang out, every time her gaze lingered on him, he felt like he was about to crack. His mind was screaming at him to just tell her how he felt, but the words got tangled in his throat.

“So,” Y/N began, tilting her head slightly, her eyes studying him with a curious glint. “You’ve been a little… off lately. Something bothering you?”

Oscar swallowed hard, staring at the ground in an attempt to avoid her piercing gaze. He opened his mouth to brush it off, but something inside him snapped.

“Actually,” he started, his voice shaking slightly, “yeah, there is something. There’s… something I’ve been meaning to say to you.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and for a moment, Oscar thought maybe—just maybe—this was the moment he could get it all out. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

“I just— I really like spending time with you, Y/N. I… I’ve felt like this for a while now, and I don’t know how to explain it.” He paused, his heart racing. “I’ve been trying to figure out what it is between us, and I think…” His words faltered. Was he really about to say it? The confession that had been burning inside him for months?

Before he could finish, a loud voice cut through the quiet.

“Oscar! There you are! Mark’s looking for you.”

It was Lando, again. Oscar’s face dropped, and he could feel the frustration building in his chest. He turned to look at Y/N, but her expression had shifted. She was smiling, but it was distant now.

“Go ahead,” she said softly, her voice a little more guarded than before. “I’m sure you’ve got work to do.”

Oscar opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He wanted to explain, to apologize for getting so caught up in the moment. But instead, he stood up quickly, his heart sinking in his chest.

“Sorry,” he muttered, forcing a smile as he looked at her one last time. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He didn’t wait for her response, didn’t even look back as he walked toward Lando, who was still jabbering away about something that, in the moment, felt entirely irrelevant.

As they walked toward the garage, Oscar’s mind was racing. He had come so close, but once again, his confession had been spoiled. The frustration felt like a weight pressing down on him. He couldn’t understand why everything kept falling apart when it came to Y/N.

Later that evening, after the team debrief, Oscar was left alone in the quiet garage, staring at his helmet on the workbench. His fingers brushed over it absently, his thoughts still on Y/N. It wasn’t just the missed confession; it was the way he felt when he was around her. He wanted to believe that there was something more, something real, but the constant interruptions were starting to wear him down.

He couldn’t keep running from his feelings. He needed to figure out if Y/N felt the same way—or if he was simply setting himself up for disappointment.

Oscar’s fingers tightened around the edge of the workbench, and for the first time in a long while, he felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. Was he just another one of her friends? Or could there be something more, something he had been too afraid to see?

Oscar Piastri was unraveling. It was as if every smile Y/N gave him, every teasing quip she threw his way, tightened the knot in his chest. He had never wanted anything—or anyone—so badly in his life. Racing was his whole world, but lately, she had taken up permanent residence in his thoughts, eclipsing everything else.

Every moment they spent together was a bittersweet torture. He could be sitting across from her in the team lounge, surrounded by people, and still feel like the only thing that mattered was the way her lips curved when she smiled. Yet every time he tried to get closer, he stumbled. Words failed him. Timing failed him. His courage failed him.

Today was no different.

The team had wrapped up a meeting, and most people were filtering out. Y/N lingered near the catering table, a cup of coffee in hand. Oscar had been hovering nearby, pretending to be interested in a plate of pastries just so he could steal a few glances. He didn’t even like pastries.

She caught him looking—again—and raised an eyebrow. “You know, Piastri, you’re terrible at being sneaky.”

Oscar felt his face heat up. He fumbled with the plate in his hand, nearly dropping it. “What? No, I wasn’t— I mean, I’m just… hungry.”

Y/N smirked, leaning against the counter. “Sure you are.”

There it was again, that playful glint in her eyes that made his stomach flip. He should say something witty, something that would make her laugh, but all he could do was stand there, frozen under her gaze.

She tilted her head, studying him. “You’ve been acting weird lately. You know that, right?”

“Weird? Me?” Oscar forced a laugh, but it came out strained. “I’m not acting weird. You’re weird.”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Great comeback, Piastri.”

She turned back to her coffee, and Oscar let out a quiet sigh of relief. But as she moved to leave, he panicked. He couldn’t let her walk away—not again.

“Wait,” he blurted out, stepping toward her. “Y/N, I—”

“What’s up?” she asked, her tone softening as she turned back to face him.

Oscar opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. His pulse was pounding in his ears, and his palms were sweaty. He couldn’t just blurt it out, not here, not like this. Instead, he shook his head, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“Nothing,” he mumbled. “It’s nothing.”

Y/N frowned, her brows knitting together. For a moment, it looked like she was about to press him, but then her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at the screen and sighed. “I’ve gotta go. My dad’s looking for me.”

Oscar nodded, watching as she walked away. His chest ached with the weight of everything he couldn’t say. He wanted to scream at himself, to grab her hand and tell her to stay, but he just stood there, frozen in place.

That evening, Oscar sat alone in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling. The hum of the air conditioner was the only sound, but his thoughts were deafening. He replayed every moment with Y/N, every near-confession, every time he’d chickened out. It was driving him mad.

He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his messages. Her name was right at the top. They texted often—casual conversations about racing, movies, music. But as he stared at the empty text box, he realized he had no idea what to say. Everything felt too big, too loaded.

Just tell her, he thought, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Tell her how you feel.

But what if she didn’t feel the same way? What if he ruined everything? What if she laughed, or worse, pitied him?

His phone buzzed suddenly, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was a message from her.

Y/N: You okay? You seemed a little off earlier.

Oscar’s heart raced as he read the message. She noticed. She always noticed. But what could he say? That he was “off” because he was hopelessly in love with her? That every time she smiled at him, it felt like the ground shifted beneath his feet?

His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, and before he could stop himself, he typed:

Oscar: Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.

He stared at the message for a second, then deleted it.

Oscar: I need to tell you something.

His finger hovered over the send button. This was it. He could finally tell her. But before he could send the message, another text popped up.

Y/N: Never mind, I just remembered something. Let’s talk tomorrow. Goodnight, Piastri :)

Oscar groaned, tossing his phone onto the bed. He flopped back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling again. It felt like the universe was playing some cruel joke on him, throwing roadblock after roadblock in his path.

The next day, the team had organized a press event, and Y/N was there, as always, chatting with the drivers and media personnel like she belonged there. Oscar couldn’t stop watching her, couldn’t stop wondering what it would feel like to hold her hand, to kiss her, to just be with her.

“You’re staring again,” Lando muttered, nudging him in the ribs. “You’re so obvious it’s painful.”

“Shut up,” Oscar hissed, glaring at his teammate.

“I’m just saying,” Lando continued, smirking. “If you don’t do something soon, someone else will.”

Oscar stiffened at the thought. The idea of someone else swooping in, stealing her away, was enough to make his stomach churn. He clenched his fists, determination flickering in his chest. Lando was right. He couldn’t keep waiting for the perfect moment—it didn’t exist.

But even as he resolved to finally confess, he couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in. What if he was too late? What if she didn’t feel the same way?

Oscar’s eyes found her across the room, laughing at something Carlos had said. She looked so effortlessly beautiful, so completely out of his league. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Desperate didn’t even begin to cover it. He was completely, utterly lost in her.

Y/N didn’t miss much. Growing up in a family where motorsport was the centerpiece of every conversation, she had learned to read people the same way her dad read data—intensely and accurately. And lately, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with Oscar.

He’d always been reserved, more comfortable analyzing data than socializing, but now he seemed downright jumpy around her. The quiet confidence she’d admired since they’d first met had been replaced with nervous stammering and lingering looks that he thought she didn’t notice.

She noticed.

Sitting at the edge of the paddock, sipping her coffee, she replayed the events of the past few weeks. The aborted conversations, the way his gaze would drop to the ground every time she caught him staring, the moments he seemed like he was on the verge of saying something important only to backtrack at the last second. It was sweet, endearing even, but it left her wondering.

“Do I intimidate him?” she mumbled to herself, swirling the remnants of her coffee.

She’d never thought of herself as intimidating, but she knew what it was like to be under pressure in this world. Her father’s legacy cast a long shadow, and Oscar—despite his undeniable talent—was still finding his place. She wondered if she was part of that pressure.

And yet, when he smiled, that boyish grin that lit up his entire face, she saw the person underneath the weight of expectations. She liked that version of him, the one who teased her about her horrible taste in music or stole her snacks when he thought she wasn’t looking.

But lately, those moments had been overshadowed by something… heavier. Something unsaid.

The next week, Oscar reached his limit.

It happened at the tail end of the Silverstone race weekend. After a chaotic qualifying session and a race that left him with a respectable but frustrating P7 finish, Oscar was drained. But it wasn’t the race that was eating at him—it was her.

She’d been there all weekend, as always, her laughter echoing through the garage, her presence a constant, maddening distraction. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t breathe when she was near. And now, watching her across the paddock talking to Lando, her hand playfully swatting his arm as they joked about something, Oscar felt like he was going to implode.

He’d had enough. Enough of the near-confessions, the sleepless nights, the endless what-ifs.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he was moving, weaving through the throng of media and team personnel until he was standing in front of her.

“Y/N, can we talk?” His voice was steadier than he felt, but his eyes betrayed his desperation.

She blinked up at him, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. “Uh, yeah, sure.” She glanced at Lando, who raised an eyebrow but stepped aside with a knowing smirk.

Oscar led her away from the crowd, his hands fidgeting at his sides. When they finally stopped near a quiet corner of the paddock, he turned to face her.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

Y/N tilted her head, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Doing what?”

“This!” He gestured vaguely between them, his frustration boiling over. “Pretending like everything’s normal when it’s not. Acting like I’m fine when I’m not.”

She stared at him, her lips parting as if to respond, but he pressed on.

“I like you, Y/N,” he blurted out, his voice raw and unsteady. “I’ve liked you for a while now, and it’s driving me insane. Every time I try to tell you, something happens, and I—” He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. “I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this way. I just… I needed you to know.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Y/N’s eyes searched his face, her expression unreadable. Oscar’s heart pounded in his chest, each second stretching into an eternity.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“Oscar…” Her voice was soft, careful. “I—”

“Y/N! There you are!”

Both of them turned to see Mark striding toward them, a clipboard in hand. Oscar felt his stomach drop.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mark said, oblivious to the tension hanging in the air, “but we need to head to the debrief. Y/N, you coming?”

She glanced between Oscar and her father, hesitation flickering in her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll— I’ll be there in a minute.”

Mark nodded, walking away, but the interruption had shattered whatever moment they’d been building.

Y/N turned back to Oscar, her face a mix of emotions he couldn’t quite place. “I should go,” she said softly, her voice almost apologetic.

Oscar nodded numbly, his chest aching. “Yeah… yeah, of course.”

As she walked away, he felt the weight of his confession settle over him. He’d finally said it, but it hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped. And now, he was left to wonder—had he made a mistake?

Oscar barely slept that night. The words he’d blurted out to Y/N replayed on an endless loop in his mind, each replay more agonizing than the last. He could still see her expression—soft, careful, but unreadable. And then she’d walked away.

He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his phone. Part of him wanted to text her, to ask if they could talk, to beg her to say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. What if she was avoiding him? What if he’d ruined everything?

The next morning, he dragged himself to the paddock, dreading the thought of seeing her. He didn’t know how to act, didn’t know how to undo the mess he’d made.

But when he arrived, she was there, leaning against the Ferrari hospitality building, chatting with Carlos. She looked calm, collected—like nothing had happened. It was both a relief and a dagger to the chest.

“Hey, mate.” Lando appeared at his side, startling him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not now, Lando,” Oscar muttered, his gaze fixed on Y/N.

Lando followed his line of sight and smirked. “Ah, still pining, I see.”

“I told her,” Oscar said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration.

Lando’s eyebrows shot up. “You what?”

“I told her how I feel.”

“And?”

Oscar shook his head, his jaw tightening. “She didn’t say anything. Mark showed up, and then she just… left.”

Lando let out a low whistle. “Ouch. So what’s the plan now?”

“There is no plan,” Oscar snapped. “I’ll just avoid her and hope this all blows over.”

Lando snorted. “Yeah, because that’s worked so well for you so far.”

Oscar shot him a glare, but deep down, he knew Lando was right. Avoiding her wouldn’t solve anything. Still, the thought of facing her again made his stomach churn.

Y/N had been replaying the moment, too. She’d been caught completely off guard by Oscar’s confession, and Mark’s interruption hadn’t helped. She’d spent the night staring at her ceiling, trying to make sense of her own feelings.

She liked Oscar—of course she did. He was sweet and funny and far more thoughtful than he gave himself credit for. But his sudden outburst had thrown her. She hadn’t expected him to feel that way about her.

Now, as she stood in the paddock, pretending to focus on her conversation with Carlos, her thoughts kept drifting back to Oscar. She’d seen him arrive earlier, his usual quiet confidence replaced by a nervous energy that tugged at her heart.

“Y/N,” Carlos said, pulling her from her thoughts. “You okay? You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, forcing a smile.

Carlos didn’t look convinced, but before he could press her, she excused herself, her gaze darting toward the McLaren garage. She needed to talk to Oscar, to clear the air, but the thought of confronting him made her chest tighten. What if she said the wrong thing? What if she hurt him?

She spotted him near the back of the garage, staring intently at a data screen. For a moment, she hesitated, her feet rooted to the ground. But then she squared her shoulders and walked toward him.

“Oscar.”

He turned at the sound of her voice, his expression shifting from surprise to guardedness. “Y/N. Hi.”

“Can we talk?” she asked, her tone soft but firm.

He glanced around, as if looking for an escape route, but finally nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

They stepped outside, away from the bustle of the garage. Oscar shoved his hands into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“About yesterday,” Y/N began, her voice tentative. “I—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, his tone clipped. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

She frowned. “Oscar, I—”

“No, really.” He forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want things to be weird between us.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart twisting at the vulnerability in his voice. “Things aren’t weird,” she said gently. “But you didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

Oscar blinked, his head snapping up to meet her gaze. “You mean…?”

“I mean, I wasn’t expecting it,” she admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel something.”

His breath hitched, hope flickering in his eyes. “You do?”

Y/N hesitated, her mind racing. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’ve never thought about us that way before. But… maybe I should have.”

Oscar’s shoulders sagged, a mix of relief and confusion washing over him. “So… what does that mean?”

“It means I need time to figure it out,” she said, stepping closer. “But I don’t want you to think it’s a no. I just need to… sort through things.”

Oscar nodded slowly, his heart still racing. “Okay. I can do that.”

“And, Oscar?” she added, her voice softening. “I care about you. A lot.”

A small smile tugged at his lips, the weight on his chest easing just a little. “That’s enough for now.”

As they stood there, the tension between them shifted, replaced by something more tentative but undeniably real. It wasn’t a confession, not in the way he’d imagined, but it was a start.

[qqueenofhades]

hi I hope you don't mind but I would love to hear your long tired historian rant you mentioned in your tags on that one post, if you feel in the mood to share? (no pressure!)

(also thank you for existing, you do wonderful work and the world is a better place for you being in it)

Aha. Well. For context, the mention of said rant was in relation to this post:

Basically, this post struck a nerve because of how it exactly encapsulates the anti-intellectual, anti-academia, anti-historical, anti-reality thinking that is absolutely rampant in social media spaces, even and especially spaces that identify as leftist, liberal, or otherwise "superior" to the right wing when it comes to identifying fake news or misinformation. (Example A: anything ever written by a self-proclaimed leftist on Twitter.) We all know that there are huge problems with the American public school system (and the people writing this are almost always American) and the American practice of education in general, and that yes, there are many things that happened in the past (or y'know, the present!) that are not taught very well, or at all. But because the American public school system is so decentralized and largely autonomous, incredibly dependent on the temperament of local superintendents and/or school boards, taxation and funding, availability of teachers, requirement of useless standardized tests, etc., it is very difficult (if not outright impossible) to claim that this is the result of a Unified Grand Conspiracy To Not Teach Real History To The Youth In Order To Make Them Mindlessly Support Capitalism. That is the exact sort of deranged conspiratorial thinking that the right wing does and fits everything into a sinister narrative about how "They" are planning to keep you ignorant and therefore nothing harmful that you ever think or do is really your fault. It's not good.

(Whoosh. That was very calm and reasonable of me. For the rest of this post, please just picture Captain Holt "apparently that's a trigger for me" dot gif.)

Also: even in public school, and despite the Republicans' best efforts, there are plenty of opportunities to study complex or "controversial" subjects. For example, I spend a week every June grading AP Euro History exams with a lot of other educators in a giant windowless steel box (woo-hoo, fun times!) Every year, there are questions on the exam about women's rights, imperialism and exploitation, slavery/race relations, the development of capitalism and the current economic model, religion and science, the history of labor, and other topics that would be considered "controversial" if you're an idiot. This is an exam taken by high school students in all grades from across the country, and there are also AP World History and APUSH (US history) exams every year which are doubtless making an effort to address similar themes. This is an advanced program, yes, but it's widely available to many schools and is not a result of a sinister plot to keep the youth from discovering the truth. Also: you live in an era of absolutely unprecedented access to information. Put down the ChatGPT bullshit generator and visit a goddamn public library. Or even open Wikipedia. The tools are there for you to start educating yourself and they are so easy to find!!!!!

The "Historians Are Hiding The Truth!!!" narrative becomes even more ridiculous in university-level or professional academic historical-study spaces, especially when historical educators and associations (such as the American Historical Association) have been at the forefront of pushing back against right-wing efforts to censor history, punish teachers, and remove culture-war subjects from classrooms. Also as someone who has advanced degrees in history, has taught/worked in several universities in different countries, writes and publishes historical research, and otherwise participates professionally in the field: trust me, we aren't "hiding" shit. There are vigorous debates and disagreements on various bogglingly obscure subjects and points of clarification and so forth, but that doesn't mean we're not talking about them (trust me, we're often talking about them too much). If you're issuing confident blanket statements about how "historians are conspiring to hide x," you're an idiot.

This also has dangerous repercussions in the field of, say, politics and civics, where a lot of absolutely braindead Online Leftists have spent the last four years posting deranged nonsense on social media and then, whenever they're called out on it for that not actually being how anything works at all, whining that "I was never taught this!!!" (And yet, it somehow never actually changes their perspective or their theories....) They whine about how "they didn't know this" and it was someone else's fault, they make up total fantasy about what the Biden administration did or should have done and now are still happy about Trump coming back because "It will teach the Democrats a lesson!!!" and otherwise accelerating us oh-so-quickly down that slippery slippery fascism slope. Their weaponized ignorance and their magical fantasies about what "should" have happened often come back to this same learned helplessness, where it's everyone else's fault (especially Capitalism's) that they're total wankers. Look: I'm not a goddamn fan of capitalism either. But we all grew up in this same system, and some of us aren't raving idiots, so at some point, you have to take the tiniest modicum of personal responsibility for the information you seek out, the content you consume, the opinions you propagate, and the people you surround yourself with. Shocking.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Online Leftists are actively and unrepentantly enabling American fascism and should be treated in the same way as we treat MAGA when it comes to deciding what is good or worthwhile information. This is because their entire political philosophy (insofar as their beliefs can be dignified with the term) is based on the "make shit up and remove it from any basic empirical references, grounding in reality, or 'should I run the most basic Google search and see if I'm completely talking out of my ass in a distorted social media echo chamber? Nah I'm good' " technique. This is, as the original tweet above references, trying to retcon sheer malicious laziness and stupidity into grand ideological theories about how it's actually "better" that they don't know a damn thing and won't shut up. It's your evil history teacher's fault, or "academics are all rich and elitist" (ask any academic-precariat person like me and we will laugh hollowly and then throw monkey poop at you), or "They" wouldn't let you learn this, or on and on. Even in our terrible, awful, no-good very-bad timeline, there are still ample tools to educate yourself, to learn how to filter out bad information and junk news, and otherwise gird yourself even a little for the even-more-massive assault on empirical reality that we are about to experience in the next four years (ugh). I suggest you take advantage of them.

[skipthisvoid]

Alrighty I am going to do my best to explain my thoughts on this-

What Arcane often does is take something that real-life that society is bigoted against and then show the humanity in those same people. This is a type of counter-narrative. This is when the story "presents a different perspective or interpretation of events that directly contradicts your existing beliefs, forcing you to re-evaluate your understanding of a situation or topic."

"They aim to disrupt established stories or viewpoints that might be considered biased or oppressive by offering alternative interpretations. Fields like critical race theory, feminist studies, and postcolonial studies frequently utilize counter-narratives to highlight marginalized perspectives."

(A key example is drug addicts, being set up in the first few episodes to align with the disgust society has for them, only later to twist your perspective around and make you feel like you were wrong. You end up feeling sympathy for them, which brings the watcher to have to rework their worldview for the rest of the show.)

The Undercity in routinely proven to be a place that has incredibly brilliant people, families just trying to get by, etc. but they just haven't been given the same opportunities as topside, so they turn to less desirable means of making a living. Within the series we are often given small pieces of daily life within the Undercity, especially the domestic moments, to make a connection that they are also just people.

Okay onto the brothel- The "goblin" in question is named Babette. We are given our initial "narrative" that she is gross, either because she is a sex worker, she is not a typical human, she is old, or all three. What happens later in the show is that it is revealed not only is Babette the mother of the house and is incredibly important to protecting those who work under her, she also knows the main character's father figure and looks up to him. It is implied there is mutual respect (an implication because at this point in the story, said father figure is dead and can not verbally confirm) between these two important people for the Undercity.

Once inside the brothel, it is shown to be like any other place of business. The workers are professional, the place is maintained well with all sorts of different options for people to pick from, (regardless of gender preference) and if clients treat workers inappropriately, they are thrown out. (Like during the scene in question.) So the first time we see this location, the narrative tells us "oh-ew gross we know that sex work is dirty and bad and the neighborhood is poor so these people are bad and gross" but later we have the counter-narrative of "actually this is a well respected and important part of the Undercity's economy, and the workers here are treated (and paid) well for the service they are providing."

SO when we come back to the original scene, we now align morally with the trans woman and Babette, and also think its funny that this man has gotten kicked out of a well respected establishment. He must have done something without realizing they take the rules seriously, and he won't be allowed back. Sucks since this place is the best in town!

Side note for the "look of disgust" coming from Claggor, the 'main' character mentioned above. Claggor is 14-16 years old. He isn't so much as disgusted as he is just shocked! He also is a very very shy and soft spoken boy. Being in the Undercity, and with Babette being friend's with his adoptive father, he knows what sex-work is. He is shy of it, he knows he is a minor. It is dark and not well lit, Babette might not be able to see him well so she smiles at him anyway. OR, since later in the show we find out she knows his father well, she is intentionally fucking with him knowing he is shy and is gonna be all weird about it. Either way, I wouldn't say he is reacting in disgust. He is just an awkward teen being awkward.

I am torn on the depiction of the transwoman. On one hand, I see how the art they used can be considered a bad stereotype. BUT I do also know someone who is doing the best they can with the body they currently have, and this is what she looks like! And thats also perfectly okay and fine! She exists, thats what she looks like at this point in her life, and she hasn't decided if she is going to make any further changes. (If she wants to speak more on this she can- I personally don't wanna go to deep into it on her behalf.) I think it is working as the same counter-narrative. We are shown this masculine woman who works in the sex industry, and feel the initial reaction society wants us to. Then later, we find out, oh shit, these workers are important and well respected! She is doing a good job for her current situation in the Undercity!

I feel like I am running out of things to say in this very moment but I DO want to also take a second to say we see a different portrayal of mtf transition later in the series. Her name is Lest. The difference here is that Lest is top-side, where there are a lot more opportunities and money. This is apparent in her ability to transition to what society considers "passing", as well as her clothing. She is also voiced by a trans woman! (Eve Lindley)

Blehg I just kinda wanted to spill some of my thoughts over this show since I adore its use of literary devices, ESPECIALLY the counter narrative. I hope this kinda made sense and didn't sound rude at all.

i just did something i promised myself i'd never do and intentionally watched a scene from Arcane, to see just how bad the transmisogynist joke in the first episode is -- and people are absolutely 100% playing it down.

the characters are walking through a dark, seedy part of a city, and reacting in fear to a bunch of scary, dangerous & unsettling things, like a monster scuttling in a cage & vendors selling huge knives, before panning to these two women standing outside a brothel.

the small gremlin lady makes a pass at one of the cast, who immediately reacts in visible fear and disgust and runs away. then, a drunk man wearing no pants is kicked out of the brothel, being told that he has to pay. the woman on the left responds (with a deep, masculine voice) "look at that" and reacts in disgust to him. the crux of the joke here is "haha it's rich that this gross tranny thinks this drunk man is gross, because SHE and her little gremlin friend are gross! lol!".

it is a transmisogynistic joke on the level of the ugly step-sister in Shrek. i shouldn't have to explain this. holy shit.

[bioticlaw]

Faith in Desolation

IL CAPITANO X GN READER

A couple of days still feels like forever.

1,9k words // (soft) Yandere!Capitano, unhealthy relationships, Stockholm Syndrome, drugging, anxiety, MC is needy. just wanted to try to explore vulnerability and getting out of my comfort zone!

There is not much of your past you can remember.

You see blurred figures and silhouettes. You hear muffled words and hushed voices. You feel ghostly touches on your skin and sometimes phantom pains, but you remember nothing. You don’t remember the dreams you had or the youth within you. All of it is mere vignettes, corrupted tapes, and in realms leagues away from where you are. It used to bother you, not knowing all of your past.

Who were you before him?

The question drifts back to you like waves crashing against the shore, always returning no matter how much you wish it would disappear into the horizon. Harsh winds quiet every name you’ve ever remembered, and thick fog covers every face you’ve ever seen. You feel that your past no longer belongs to you, that it is a different life in its entirety, one you had never been in control of. The name everyone used to call you is no longer yours, and it has died alongside the husk of your old self.

What he calls you now—his and entirely his, is more than enough of a reminder that you belong somewhere. That you belong to someone, mind, body and soul; loved at your worst and your best.

Scars and ink mar your skin, born out of impulse and recklessness you once possessed. You’re the farthest thing from a porcelain doll; you’ve bent and broken, gone through tumultuous times by yourself. But the Captain treats you like a fragile little thing that can shatter at the slightest misstep. The same hands that have created death and violence are the same hands that caress your skin with love.

To be held so tenderly by a man so dangerous—it is all you’ve ever wanted, and it is all you’ll ever need from someone.

You stare out the window into the snowy plains of Snezhnaya and wordlessly watch the snow fall into place. It is warm inside his quarters, significantly so that you don’t have to wear multiple layers, but you can still feel the winter oozing through the walls. He isn’t home for you to crawl into his lap like an affectionate feline. He hasn’t been home for a couple of days now, having left for an operation ordered by the Tsaritsa.

Solitude isn’t entirely an unfamiliar concept. You’ve been an outcast and isolated for the majority of your life, never approached by any curious passers-by or bright-eyed people who wanted to be friends. You’ve grown to find comfort in the state of being alone. But now that you finally have someone to belong to—a permanent pillar in your life, a prominent presence you’d never dare to get rid of—the feeling of loneliness has grown much stronger.

He’s been writing you letters since he left. Some words to remind you that he still expects to see you at home, that he’s safe, and that he will return as soon as he can. Unfortunately, there haven’t been any new letters as of late, and it’s hard to keep the irrational voices in your head at bay. You want to write back, to tell him everything you’ve been holding inside your heart, but you can’t. It would put your safety in jeopardy, he says. You have not been outside of Snezhnaya in a very long time, but you trust every word Capitano says about the dangers lurking in the dark.

The winter makes it all worse. In an empty and quiet home that overlooks the bleak scenery of ice and snow, what used to be a vibrant world has turned dull. You rock yourself back and forth on the chaise, mind racing as fast as light. Capitano wouldn’t lie to you. He never has, and he won’t begin now. But a small part of your weary brain asks what if? What if he lies about how he wishes to have you in his arms again? What if he lies about how every flower he comes across reminds him of you? What if he’s putting on a façade to hide his wrath—to hide that he no longer loves you?

Your brittle fingernails sink deep into your skin as your hands start to tremble. You crave something sweet, the rush of warmth that flows down your throat and into your stomach. You crave contact, the comfort that comes from breathing in the same air as a loved one. You’ve never felt more alone, and the more you think of it, the faster you begin to spiral. Days have passed since you’ve had to be without him. Every insecurity wraps around your heart with its thorns and tightens, making you start to lose the rhythm of your breathing.

You grow increasingly aware of yourself. You are becoming too aware of yourself, and yet, there is nothing you can do that will stop it all. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, chapped and dry from the unforgiving cold. The darkness grows stronger and surrounds you in its gloom, and the thick fog renders you completely ignorant of the sound of the door opening. The silence remains your only companion before a deep timbre sounds in the room, forcing you out of your sullen state.

“I’m home.”

The familiar voice you’ve been missing makes you leap out of your seat and into his arms, burying your face into the soft fur of his coat. Here he is, your beloved, your saviour, safe and sound and home. Tears well up in the corners of your eyes before they start flowing in rivulets, sobs escaping your lips as you struggle to regain your composure. You feel his clawed hand lightly support you in his hold, allowing you to lay in his arms more comfortably.

Drowsily, you mumble, “You forgot about me.”

“I can’t hear you, little one.”

Your bottom lip juts into a pout and you toy with the fur of his coat with your fingers, eyes downcast. His chest rises and falls with a sigh, though it’s not one of fatigue. It’s a noise of understanding—his response when words fail you.

Your sobs die down into quiet sniffles instead as the final teardrop slides down your cheek. Your arms are wrapped around his neck in greed and desperation, unwilling to let go even for a split second.

“Look at me.”

Pettiness seeps into your system, your impulses making you ignore his soft command while your brows furrow together in petulance.

He says your name, firmly this time, and repeats himself, “Look at me.”

Tearily you do, hesitantly pulling your face away from his coat and staring into the abyss that is his mask, your bottom lip quivering as the tears threaten to fall once more. Is he angry at you? Has he finally tired of you? Where will you go once he’s discarded you? Will you end up lying among abandoned toys like Dottore and his servant’s segments, or will you be forced to return to a life of isolation?

“You look pale,” he comments, “Have you been taking your medicine?”

You nod numbly. Resting your head against his shoulder, your fingers slide down to toy with the buttons on his coat, keeping yourself grounded.

“Good,” Capitano says and hums in contentment. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

Fear jabs into your heart. You don’t know how he’s going to react when you tell him the truth. Will he think you don’t trust him? You do, but the voices in your head always try to steer you into darker territory.

Still, you breathe, and with a quiet voice, you finally answer him, “I thought you left me.”

He takes another long sigh. Taking a seat on the couch, he places you on his lap and possessively wraps his arms around your waist, hand tenderly caressing your back. It almost reminds you of how a musician would strum an instrument’s strings. It’s familiar and comforting, taking you into a sense of safety and calm, but it’s not enough.

“You wouldn’t leave me, right?” You stare at him in urgency, your voice wavering as you slowly fall into hysterics. “I’ve been good, so you still love me, right? I… I haven’t broken any rules, I’ve been good, I’ve been—”

You never complete your sentence, breaking into a sob before hiding your face in the crook of his neck, trembling in his touch.

“Of course I do,” he says softly. “It’s upsetting that you still don’t trust me.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

With yet another sigh, he holds you closer to his chest. “Poor thing. You must’ve felt so alone.”

You respond with a tired grunt. You feel him moving beneath you, arm reaching out to grab something the best he can with you clinging to him. It doesn’t take long before he hands you a small bottle that you gingerly accept with shaky hands.

“Drink.”

Sweetness swirls on your tongue and warmth flows down your throat. You follow his order without question, fully trusting in his words and decisions. Discarding the bottle, he allows you to hold on to him for as long as you need, keeping you close in his protective touch.

His good little pet—so compliant, so needy.

“I just wish you could take me with you,” you murmur after a beat of silence, stability returning to your voice.

“You’re safer here,” he replies. “No one can take you away from me.”

You frown. “Are you… mad at me?”

“No, I’m not.” His hand comes up to pat your head. “But I want you to trust me.”

Your eyelids flutter and your breathing slows as the world begins to blur at the edges. You don’t feel him staring down at you, watching how small and fragile you are in his arms, how weak and docile. His fingers drum against the small of your back while he’s deep in thought, trying to think of ways to keep you comforted for the duration of his next absence.

“When do you leave?” you ask meekly.

“Tomorrow,” he says. “Will you be good and wait for me?”

You hum, your limbs growing heavier as your grip around him loosens. “I will.”

“Good,” he echoes before getting up and carrying you to your bedroom where he gently lays you on the bed. He crouches down beside you, his hand cupping the side of your face in kind. “Do you remember your rules?”

“Don’t leave, don’t speak to anyone—” you interrupt yourself with a yawn. “Don’t trust the voices.”

Pleased, he caresses your cheek lovingly. “Good. You’re doing very well.”

You weakly reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers together before you pout and look up at him with a pleading gaze. Nervously, you ask again, “You’re not staying?”

“I can, until the morning.”

You’re slowly drifting away, barely registering the sound of him getting in bed beside you. He carries you and places you on his lap once more, urging you to lean into him before you slumber. You briefly hear the sound of pages turning before you feel the vibrations in his chest as he reads out loud to you, lulling you into feeling safe and sound. He will be gone the next time you open your eyes, leaving the place pristine like he had never been here, but for him, you’ll keep waiting. Being obedient is the best way to support him.

As long as you behave, he’ll continue to love you and keep you sheltered away from the cruel world, unhurt and unharmed.

[weepingchronicles]

Hi! I saw your requests are open, so could you please do a Jinx x fem! Reader where the reader gets hurt badly after a fight (maybe after episode 6?) and almost dies? How would Jinx react? And make it angsty and fluffy please. Thank you! 🩵

a/n: aaa i didn't know if you wanted yandere or not but i did it anyways, i am very sorry if you didn't want yan!jinx. i didn't know if you meant season one or two but to be honest i couldn't remember anything anyways so this is just a made up fight! hope you dont mind <3

❝yandere!jinx x fem!reader getting injured❞

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Believe it or not, Jinx drops everything once she notices you are hurt, especially if it is critical. Of course, if she is distracted by the fighting and adrenaline of a fight, it might take her awhile to notice until you collapse or the fight is over. I imagine pre-shimmer Jinx would be more attentive and notices if you are hurt even a bit.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 But basically, she drops everything and would rush to your side nonetheless. She will kneel by your side, assessing your injuries. Oh god, that is a lot of blood. Since when did you have so many wounds?

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Thousands of thoughts swarm around her head. She is so scared of losing you, she can't lose another person she loves. She just can't. Voices of her adoptive brother's voice ring through her head and even Silco's. Saying things like how she just hurts everyone around her, this was bound to happen eventually. No wonder Vi didn't want her to come on the mission. She's a jinx.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Thankfully, the marching and yells of incoming enforcers awakens her from her delusions. She scoops you in her arms pretty easily and rushes home to save you.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 But as she is racing away with you in tow, she looks down seeing your colored eyes begin to gloss over and droop, your skin getting colder and colder. No.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Without much thought she rushes you to Singed. He helped Silco save her, why couldn't he now?

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Once you fully awaken you are not the same. The surgery was a success but your mind feels almost split into two. Your mind conjured the most horrible memories and distorted them into something worse. But Jinx was beside you through all of it.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You find your head laying in Jinx's lap, her painted nails twirling some strands of your hair between her fingers. She notices you, "Oh! You're awake!" She jumps and sit you upright. She is smiling but something in her face makes you believe she is worried, worried for you. Her motions are more jittery than usual.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She brings you a small makeup compact excitedly and open it up, showing your reflection through the small mirror. Your eyes were not the same color anymore. Instead they were a magenta color, something unnatural and not you. It almost reminds you of— "Now we match!" Jinx exclaims excitedly, as if you'd be happy.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "What did you do to me, Jinx?" You focus your gaze back onto her, feeling anger rising in your bones.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Jinx scrunches her face, "What did I do? I saved you!" she says, practically snarling at your accusatory tone. She stands, throwing the makeup compact harshly at you.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "You were going to bleed out in my arms so quit looking me like I'm some.. some monster!" Her voice breaks on the last note, showing her insecurity. You knew all about Jinx's past, about Vi.. Vander. You promised to never do the same thing to her.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You take a deep breath in. reassessing your situation. Yes, you were.. different but you were fine, right? Your wound were gone and in fact, you felt more alive than before. More hyper-aware, like you are a fresh eyed baby seeing the world new again.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 "I'm.. I'm sorry, Jinx. I just feel so confused.. and different." You hunch over, cradling your own head in your arms.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 Jinx's look pities, all tension disappearing at the sight of your struggle. She knew exactly what it felt like, how violating it felt.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 She kneels down in front of you, looking up and gently removing your hands from your face. "I know, I know what you must feel. But I promise. . I wouldn't have done it if I didn't have no other choice. Please."

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 You lean down, pressing your forehead to Jinx's in an act of understanding and. . affection. "I believe you, thank you for saving me. We will get through this together, okay?" Jinx nods hurriedly, her eyes all wide and thankful.

🚀 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🦈 The rest of that day was spent with lots of cuddles and talking, maybe this new you wasn't that bad as long as you have Jinx.

a/n: why was this kind of a soft yandere for jinx? oh well. . it was really cute!! i hope you enjoyed :3

[revelboo]

i love your writing so much thank you for feeding us!!! do you think you’d ever write for ultra magnus/minimus? feel free to ignore this if not!

The Conversation

Ultra Magnus x Reader

• How many is that now? Servos drumming on his desk, he grimaces. Five counting Swerve’s find the day before. That one had to have appeared after Rodimus and Megatron had destroyed the machine. Brainstorm’s only response had been to wave his hand and mutter about lingering temporal effects. Which is complete lunacy. Science has rules, it must. Whatever Brainstorm had done isn’t following them, though.

• Leaning out from the ladder, you stretch an arm out and your fingertips can just barely brush the top of the book. Tipping it and lunging to catch it before it can fall to the floor below, you feel foot slipping on the ladder rung as you reel back and bang back into it, feet scrambling until your footing is secure again with the book clutched to your chest. And heart racing, your stomach drops. It’s not like you haven’t fell before, but this is different. Cold sweat breaking out all over your skin, your head feels like it’s splitting open. You can’t hold onto the ladder, can’t feel your fingers at all as your vision goes gray at the edges and pain hammers you.

• There’s a feeling like a shift in air pressure that prickles over him. Bringing his head up in time to see the small form just materialize in the air. Reaching without thinking as that limp form begins to fall and he catches you. Another one? Venting raggedly at how warm and still you are in his palm, he reaches out a servo of his other hand to gently nudge you. Can feel your heart beating and see the rise and fall of your chest. Alive, but if you’re anything like the others, that pain would have been crippling.

• When you come to, it’s to your head pounding and a foul taste in your mouth. Everything hurts, like you’re one big bruise, but whatever you’re laying on is warm and there’s something soft wrapped around you. And you just want to sleep, curling tighter against the ache you can feel down in your very bones.

Happy turkey day- visiting my grandma in the land of no cell service

[sheerfreesia007]

Love Letters

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word count: 2,242

Content warnings: Fluff

Summary: You feel silly writing the first letter to him since you had just seen him the day before on a date. But after the first one it got easier and easier to express your love for him in typed letters. What happens when he makes you a gift involving those letters?

Yeobo: Honey

The first time he receives a letter from you he’s absolutely befuddled and confused because he had just seen you the day before on a nice romantic date walking around the Han river together before going to grab a simple lunch and ice cream. It had been a very peaceful relaxed date where the two of you had been able to just enjoy each other’s presence. But as he stares at the heavy envelope he can’t help but feel his heart start to race, no one has ever sent him a letter. And he can tell that you’ve put in a lot of effort into the letter and chosen the stationery with care, it feels heavier than normal paper and there’s a texture to the envelope that feels different. He slips the letter into his bag as he’s on his way to the dance studio and vows to read the letter on his break when he has time.

But soon dance practice has his full attention and Hyunjin forgets about the letter stored away in his bag. That is until it’s break time and Felix goes rummaging through his bag for a snack that he knows Hyunjin always keeps in there for the two of them to share before they are able to eat a meal. When he comes up with the snack hanging from his teeth and the envelope in his hands he turns to Hyunjin with wide eyes that dart between the envelope and his best friend.

”Hyung, what is this? Is this from yeobo?” He asks loudly enough to catch Hyunjin’s attention. Hyunjin turns from talking to Minho about a turn that doesn’t feel right to him and spots Felix holding your envelope in his hands causing him to rush over and grab the envelope from him.

”That’s mine.” Hyunjin says hastily and quickly tries to shove it back into his bag as his cheeks blush prettily.

”Did she really send you a love letter?” Felix asks giddily as his wide eyes follow his friend. Hyunjin can see the excitement written all across Felix’s face and his blush deepens on his face. He’s not embarrassed to receive a love letter from you, far from it actually. But the fact that Felix was able to find it so easily has him feeling slightly put off that someone else has already seen it. He tilts his head to the side wondering why he’s so adamant about keeping this for himself but he quickly shakes his head trying to clear it.

”Shush, I don’t know, I just got it today and haven’t had a chance to read it yet.” Hyunjin whines softly trying to get his friend to shut up. Felix laughs softly before nodding his head at his friend before opening the snack package and offering some to Hyunjin first. They share the snack before Minho calls for them to resume their practice, he tells them that they’ll go for another half hour and then break for lunch which they agree to.

A half hour later Hyunjin slumps onto the couch tiredly as Felix and Minho start talking about what they should all order for lunch. Hyunjin’s foot slips along the floor and hits his bag and he’s reminded of your letter once more. He bends forward and rummages through his bag before pulling out the envelope. He opens it carefully and smiles wistfully as your favorite perfume wafts through the air gently from the letter. He’s instantly reminded of the image of you laughing at something he had said on your last date while walking with him around the river, your hair fluttering in the breeze covering your face and he could only see your mouth curved in a happy smile as you laughed.

He doesn’t hear Felix or Minho ask him what he’d like for lunch or that they were going to go pick it up instead of having it delivered. But as Felix sees the letter in Hyunjin’s hand he easily guides Minho out of the dance studio so that they can give Hyunjin some quiet to read your letter to him. 

Unfolding the letter Hyunjin is surprised to see that it’s typed and not handwritten like he thought you would do. His eyes dart down the page quickly and spot your flourished signature down at the bottom of the page and smiles softly. And then his eyes race back to the top of the letter and begin to read.

Dear my sweet Hyune, This seems so silly to do but I saw it in one of the dramas that you liked and figured it would be a sweet thing to do for you. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep this up because I feel so silly typing this out but I will try my hardest. I know you will appreciate a letter even if I don’t know what to say in it. I want to thank you for always taking care of me. Your care and love that you show me all the time is so precious to me and I can’t get enough of it. I hope you can feel my love and care for you as well, because I love you so much. To the moon and back a few times round trip. Alright that’s all I wanted to tell you, I’ll see you soon my love. Love. 

Hyunjin’s heart raced as his eyes finished reading the letter as a smile graced his face, already imagining you sitting at a typewriter talking to yourself as you typed up his letter. He giggled softly at the image and felt his heart slowly start to calm down but feel slightly fuller at the sweet silly letter. Folding it back up he slipped it into his bag carefully wanting to keep it neat and pristine before he could find a way to keep it somewhere safe. Grabbing his phone he quickly typed out a sweet text to you letting you know that he loved your letter and couldn’t wait to see you again to smother you in thankful kisses. For the rest of the day he felt as if he was on cloud nine all because of that silly little letter from you.

*-*-*-*

Hyunjin walks into the recording studio and spots Felix sitting on the couch waiting for his turn to record as Chan, Changbin, and Han all sit at the long desk where all the recording equipment is and Jeongin is inside the booth recording his part. Walking over to the couch Felix looks up and smiles brightly at his best friend before scooting along the couch to make room for him to sit.

“So did she send you another one?” Felix asked excitedly and Hyunjin smiled softly at his friend before nodding his head slowly while darting his eyes around the room to make sure no one else was watching them. Felix nearly bounced in his seat and Hyunjin giggled along with him. “I love that she sends you love letters. It’s so romantic and whimsical. So sweet.” Felix gushes and Hyunjin grins while nodding. 

It’s been months now since the first letter arrived and while at first the letter had been short and silly full of your awkwardness of not knowing what to write to him they soon evolved into lovely free thought letters of things that reminded you of him and why you loved him so much. They often revolve around reminiscing about your dates but more often they just talk about things that you love about him and your relationship. The letters are like a window into your mind and he can’t help but become addicted to the view you give him.

“I love it too. In fact, I’m making her a gift that involves the letters. Would you like to see it?” Hyunjin asks Felix who eagerly nods his head with wide excited eyes.

“Yes, of course. Show me.” he gushes out and Hyunjin smiles while pulling out his phone and opening up his camera roll to show him the progress pictures he’s been taking of the gift he’s making. “Oh Hyune! It’s amazing! She’s going to love it.” Felix says excitedly in a whisper and Hyunjin blushes brightly at his praise.

“You really think she’ll like it? I’m worried it’s too much.” Hyunjin admitted and Felix quickly shook his head in disagreement.

“Absolutely not, she’s going to love this. You have to finish it and give it to her Hyune. She’ll be so happy I promise you. Look at all the letters she’s sent you. This would mean so much to her.” Felix said Hyunjin looked at his friend quietly before coming to the conclusion that he was right. It would mean so much to give this to her. He nodded his head and Felix began giggling happily before grabbing onto Hyunjin’s arm and cuddling into his side.

*-*-*-*

The evening of your one year anniversary was almost like a fairytale to you, Hyunjin picked you up in a dark tinted luxury car that drove you to a beautiful restaurant that had a candlelit dinner waiting for the two of you. You spent hours talking and laughing over dinner reminiscing about your year long relationship and how much your lives had changed for the better since meeting. It had already been such a lovely evening between the two of you and now as you stood in front of your door with Hyunjin draped over your back with his arms wrapped loosely around your waist and his necks sucking kisses and dark marks into your skin while he husked out loving words to you you couldn’t think of a better way to end your evening.

When you finally got the door open and stumbled in with Hyunjin’s weight pressed to your back you were shocked to see your living room lit up by fairy lights, a bottle of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, a beautiful bouquet of red roses and a gift bag on your coffee table, you were shocked to your core. Hyunjin giggles softly at your halted steps before he steps around you and faces you. He reaches out and grabs onto your hands before guiding you further into your apartment and towards the couch.

”I have a surprise for you.” He says softly and you look up at him dazed.

”Hyunjin this is more than enough of a surprise.” You whisper to him but he shakes his head at you in disagreement.

”No, nothing will ever be enough. But I’m hoping that this will come slightly close to it.” He says softly and you stare at him wide eyed. He guides you over to the couch and sits you down before taking a seat right next to you. He opens the champagne bottle and pours you a glass in a pretty glass flute before pouring one for himself. “To many more years together. I love and adore you Yeobo.” Hyunjin cheers and you beam up at him happily before clinking your glass with his.

”To many more years together.” You mirrored him and he leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your lips.

”Now I have a gift for you. It’s been in the making for a long time and it means a great deal to me. So I hope it means just as much to you.”  He confessed softly and you smiled lovingly at him before pressing a kiss to his lips.

”I’m sure I’ll love it since it’s from you.” You admitted quietly before turning to the gift bag and peered into it. You gently reached in and took out the large leather bound book and set it in your lap, on the cover was etched Year One and it was a hefty book with lots of pages in it. Opening the book you’re greeted with the very first letter you ever sent to Hyunjin and gasp softly before turning your head quickly to him. He grins bashfully at you and you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. “You kept them?” You ask shocked and in awe.

”Of course I did. They’re a symbol of your love for me.” He says softly and you rest your head on his shoulder feeling your heart beat erratically for him. You turned the page and your eyes widened as you saw that it was a handwritten letter from Hyunjin to you responding to your own letter. Suddenly tears began to cascade from your eyes and you set the book on the coffee table gently before turning to him and burying your face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and kissed your temple softly.

”I responded to every letter you wrote me and bound them together in the book.” He told you gently and you sobbed loudly into his chest.

”You sweet, romantic man.” You cried softly as you gripped him tightly. “Will you read it with me?” You asked as you looked up at him.

”I would love to. But it might take us awhile.” He confessed softly. “I might’ve gotten carried away with some of my letters.” He admitted and you chuckled at him.

”Good, we can spend however long reading it together.” You said lovingly to him before pressing your lips to his in a blind move that he easily and effortlessly reciprocated. The love between the two of you growing to an all consuming amount.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @simpforleeknaur, @inlovewithstraykids

[sunnysidesevenup]

SSR - Arlo Wake - Applepom

Vignette - Not Here For You Guys (Part 1)

read fic under the cut!

“So that’s two.” Epel says, looking between the odd collection of NRC students before him. He sighs, “Where are we going to get a third person, though?”

“I find it a bit odd that you haven’t asked your fellow Pomefiore dorm members. Vil and Rook, I understand, but…” Jade tilts his head to the side, indicating one of the tables near them. Epel’s eyes follow his direction, but the minute he spots the person being pointed out, he grimaces.

“That’s not a good choice, either!” He protests, but Jade’s mouth simply curls into a smile.

“Hmm? He seems like a perfectly good candidate to me. Let me go get him.” Before the first year can stop him, the mer is already walking away to retrieve his target.

“I’m not familiar with that one.” Sebek says, scrutinizing the two second years who now seem to be having an argument of some sort. “He doesn’t seem like he’d be any good in an athletic competition.”

Epel groans. “His athletics isn’t the problem!”

“And what exactly is the problem with me?”

“Ack!” The first year startles, looking up to the two mer who have now appeared beside their table. Jade is smiling, but Arlo looks incredibly annoyed—not that that’s much different than usual. He narrows his eyes further as he takes in the group settled around the table.

Well, he’s here already, so it would be fine to at least ask, right?

“Umm, nothing! Actually, we were looking for another person. You see, there’s this sled race in Harveston, and—“

“Oh, that.” The mer interrupts, tilting his head. “I should have realized you were going to that too.”

“Yeah—“. Epel stops, “Wait, too?!”

“Oh my.” Jade’s eyes widen, “This is unexpected. You already know about this?”

“The race truly is that famous and rigorous, then?” Sebek asks excitedly.

Arlo glances at the Diasomnia first year, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, no. I don’t care about things like that.”

“And I suppose it would be wrong of me to hope that you were similarly interested in Mount Moln…” Jade sighs, shaking his head. “I can only dream.”

Arlo turns to the mer, a look of disgust on his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Neither you or Floyd have any taste, of course…”

“Jade, I swear…”

“Wait, wait!” Epel holds up his hands, temporarily interrupting the two childhood friends. “Seriously, what’d ya’ mean ‘too’?!”

Arlo tilts his head, “I was invited to watch the race.” He says simply, as if it answers the question.

“Wh-?! By who?!” Epel suddenly gets a stricken look on his face. “Don’t tell me—“

Much to the Pomefiore student’s horror, his upperclassman’s cheeks flush a bit red, something that only happens with mention of one specific person. “It doesn’t really matter who it was, does it?” He spits back harshly.

“Oh?” Jade perks up, a smirk on his face. “My, I haven’t seen that reaction from you in a very long time. Who might we be talking about?”

Arlo shoots him a glare, “It’s none of your business, you fungi obsessed freak.”

“Your words do hurt, you know.” Jade says, entirely unfazed.

“No way, Neige invited you?” Epel blinks at the mer in shock. “And you’re going? To MY hometown? With HIM?”

Arlo stares back at him, unimpressed. “It’s only polite to accept an invitation when you’re invited.” He says, like a liar.

“Neige…?” Jade tilts his head. “…Neige LeBlanche? The actor?”

“No, the florist.” Arlo rolls his eyes, “Obviously the actor.”

“I was simply surprised, is all.” Jade grins widely at him. “Although, perhaps I shouldn’t be—that was your type, wasn’t it?”

Arlo’s eyes widen, and then his face flushes bright red even as it immediately contorts in anger. “Shut up! I don’t have a type! And even if I did, he’s not—! Ugh! You’re so annoying! This is why Floyd is the better twin. I wish he would’ve eaten you.” He viciously continues insulting his fellow mer, all while Jade grins on victoriously.

Epel just stares on in despair. “So… not only do we still need to find another person, but Arlo will be there? With Neige?” He mentally starts calculating the chances of Arlo telling on him to Vil. Maybe he’ll be too distracted…? Or—

“Jade, I swear to the Great Seven if you say a single word more about this I will make sure to rip off your tail fins and eat them in front of you.” Arlo finishes, threat hissed in a low tone with his finger pointed at the other boy’s chest. It’s rather comical, considering the height difference, if only Arlo didn’t seem serious about it.

“Wh-?!” Sebek splutters from off to the side, having mostly stayed out of it yet maintaining a disappointed look. “Eat them—?!”

Arlo turns his frightening glare onto him next, anger not sparing a single person no matter their involvement. Epel, unfortunately, is used to it.

He sighs, “Uh… so you’ll be going to Harveston tomorrow too, then…?” He asks hesitantly, conscious of making the older boy even angrier.

The mer crosses his arms. “Yes. I suppose we’ll be seeing each other in the morning, then.” He scoffs.

“Right…”

“I’m leaving now.” Arlo announces, and then throws another glare at Jade, who seems to be radiating smug happiness. “Don’t talk to me.” He hisses.

“See you tomorrow.” Jade calls at his retreating back. Arlo makes a rude gesture over his shoulder.

“I see what you were saying now.” Sebek comments. “We’re better off without him on the team.”

“Yeah…” Epel sighs, “We still need a third person, though…”

[galpalaven]

Felassan - Inquisition Companion + Romance Option

I blacked out after work and wrote this in a daze. Enjoy?

Felassan presents himself as a Dalish dreamer mage and friend of Solas, joining up with Solas from the very beginning after the Conclave. 

He is romanceable by any gender or race, unlike Solas who is still race-locked (but bisexual — because the main gripe between the two is the topic of modern elves and anyone else being “real”). I think it would be interesting to also have specific dialogue if you try to romance both at once — Felassan would urge Lavellan to be careful with Solas either way, though it turns more clearly yearning and sad if the player has also triggered the beginnings of his romance.

Since Felassan’s addition to the group would be an extra mage, I think to balance all that out Cullen should be able to be taken at least on some outings, and we could have an extra rogue as well (Harding would fit here, I think).

more under the cut

Personality

As a friend of Solas and his direct counter, it’s immediately noticeable that Felassan is much more friendly and playful. Notably, he enjoys chatting up a Dalish inquisitor about being Dalish, and answers questions companions have about the elves with far more enthusiasm than Solas. If the two are in the party together, he will actively tell people not to listen to Solas and poke fun at him for being rude. 

He gets along well with all of the other companions. Some who get along less well with Solas will comment on how they don’t know how he’s still friends with him when they are not in the party together. He gets along especially well with Sera, showing interest in her upbringing without making her feel condescended to the way Solas does. He particularly enjoys hearing about the Red Jennies and her efforts at helping to even the playing field for the underprivileged.

He gets along with Vivienne as well — I think it would be interesting for Vivienne to be vaguely familiar with him after he had been friends with Briala. I think it’s not a terrible idea for him to have still been involved there, too, as it could come in handy during Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts.

Story Influence

The main differences with Felassan’s presence would likely come into play mostly with things to do with the elves.

Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

Felassan is one of the most useful companions in this quest. Knowing Briala personally makes it easier for the Inquisitor to convince Briala to either:

Get back together with Celene

Become the puppet behind Gaspard

Felassan knows his way partially around the palace and is able to direct the party slightly when looking for things needed to advance the quest. He is also friends with some of the servants, allowing them access to some of the servants’ tunnels in a pinch.

He makes cheeky, sarcastic comments about the nobility when asked. He’s better at not speaking about his past, so he doesn’t get shifty during the quest like Solas does. He’s happy to dance with the Inquisitor, enjoying the scandal it will cause, with maybe a special line with a Dalish Inquisitor. Rather than single them out and make them “special” compared to other Inquisitors, it’s mostly just on principle of relating to them as another elf, similar to dialogue that can be triggered with Bull about being Qunari (or Tal-Vashoth, in that case).

What Pride Had Wrought

Welcome Felassan as the 3rd option for the Well of Sorrows!

This is where he becomes a real player on the table. He will argue with Morrigan about the Dalish, correcting her outright in places. They never gave the Dalish Inquisitor a real chance to argue with her about things, or explain things themselves, so he has snarky commentary either correcting her or being surprised when she gets things somewhat right. There are also scenes where he will take up the explanation entirely.

Felassan being present also will give the player the correct answer to the rituals. He knows them, explains offhandedly that he’s been here before as an excuse, and makes it far easier for the player to ally with the Sentinels rather than fight them.

By the time they reach the Well, things are tense. 

Solas still fights with Morrigan and the Inquisitor both. If the Inquisitor brought him and Felassan both, he will immediately reject the idea when Felassan offers himself as an option. 

Romanced!Felassan wants to do this for you — he knows what will happen, he knows the weight of this decision, and he doesn’t want this for you. He will elaborate if asked that drinking from this well will bind you, not only to the memories within, but the will of Mythal. The Inquisitor can, at this point, shrug this off if they don’t believe in Mythal or that she is still alive to control them. If the Inquisitor still chooses to drink themself, he accepts this, but tells them that he will help them with any… side effects, should they arise.

Unromanced + High Approval!Felassan will say something similar — you are his friend and he wishes to keep you safe. He will elaborate similarly if asked with high approval.

Low Approval!Felassan offers himself as a Dalish authority, perhaps derisively suggesting that he is older and wiser than a Dalish inquisitor, and that this is his responsibility, not theirs.

Either way, Solas is NOT happy, but will ultimately accept the final decision.

Trespasser

We come upon the eve of the Betrayal of Felassan.

At low approval, Felassan will have left some time in between the end of the main story and Trespasser, seeking to follow in Solas’s footsteps and find him. Despite not having high approval, Felassan is still fundamentally opposed to Solas’s decision, and will be trying to track him down alone to stop him — something Solas has been running to avoid at every turn. He does not want to see Felassan — he does not want to kill his best friend.

High approval and/or romanced Felassan is present and there to help the whole way through. 

Romanced Felassan particularly will have a scene where he will quietly pull his love aside and ask if they trust him. If they say yes (or “You’re scaring me.”), he will tell them that this will sound crazy, but ask them to listen until the end before saying anything else. He will explain the story of the Dread Wolf as he knows it — the rebellion, the Evanuris, the vallaslin, all of it — and then, at the end, explain that he knows this because he lived it. He tells the story of the slow arrow and the Dread Wolf (a Dalish inquisitor can recognize it midway and will interrupt with surprise) and explains that he was there. That he has known Solas for thousands of years, that he has walked this land for thousands of years.

He will also explain that he knows what Solas wants and that he must stop him — that they must stop him. Solas wants to fix what he thinks he broke, but the people alive today do not deserve the fate he would have of them.

And Felassan is willing to do whatever it takes to stop him.

High approval Felassan will explain in much less detail via commentary while discovering the murals in the Crossroads, leading up to eventually finding Solas.

Once Solas has been found, Felassan runs ahead of the group, disregarding calls for him to stop. The Inquisitor is left one man down as they chase after him until, finally, they reach the place where Solas waits — and they find Felassan in Solas’s arms, a knife through his ribs.

Felassan will be stabbed by Solas regardless of Felassan’s approval with the Inquisitor. However, depending on choices made during either Solas or Felassans personal quests, and maybe Solas’s level of approval with the Inquisitor, Felassan can die.

The Inquisitor who loves him or is his friend will rush forward as Solas stumbles back, catching Felassan and holding their hand over the wound, careful not to move the dagger. Between the blood and the Inquisitor’s mark consuming their other arm, they are a sad sight.

Solas apologizes, but states that it was necessary. He would only get in the way. The questioning continues as normal here, up to Solas taking the Anchor.

Romance

I’m not entirely sure how this would go yet. I think he’s playful and flirtatious if the Inquisitor starts it. He will throw out Dalish phrases sometimes “for privacy,” with a Dalish inquisitor, which comes with a very obvious, if not always visible, wink. 

His quests do focus around his identity as an elf, and around preserving elven history, whether the Inquisitor is Dalish or not. While this kind of happens with Solas, a lot of his dialogue is about how wrong the Dalish are — Felassan provides a different, more loving perspective on the modern elves compared to the ancients.

I think a love triangle route between him and Solas would be SO juicy. He wants his friend to be happy, but he knows that Solas does not believe that the elves are full people, and is concerned for the Inquisitor because of this. I think even if the Inquisitor locks in Solas, if the flirts were triggered with Felassan, you CAN actually come back to his romance after Solas dumps you (which, especially if they let him remove the tattoos, can hurt both you and him). I think it unlocking a special scene where he says that yes, he knew what they were and yes, he chose to keep his because he wanted them, would be sweet (and relatable if you chose to kEEP the vallaslin).

Overall, I think his romance would be sweet and fun. A direct counter to Solas and Sera, two elves who hate other elves. Felassan is proud of being an elf, he is proud of the resiliency of both the Dalish and city elves. He’s interested in every part of the world, including the dwarves, Qunari, and humans.

It's been a very long time since I played DAI so please forgive any inconsistencies. I just needed to write something down after work lol. tagging people who showed interest earlier! @lammstrellicon @swoleas @isayashai @witchofthewakingsea @ash-soka

[internet-succubus]

sukuna’s final girl

˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹

content/tags, mdni!: masked stranger!sukuna x reader, mentions of alcohol (reader is drunk but sober enough to consent) predator/prey chase, reader is a little bratty, choking, dacryphilia, implied marathon sex, daddy kink, use of baby/little girl/dollface/slut for reader, unprotected (don’t be silly, wrap ur willy!), squirting, sukuna is a stem major ⁉��, strangers to lovers to …?

a/n: sorry for taking 50 years to write something, it’s the end of the semester and i’m fighting for my life. i’m also way late for kinktober but… happy thanksgiving? happy reading folks! also idk how my headers/layout will look on different devices. im just here to write porn

word count: 3.9k

˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹

you wandered aimlessly around the living room of some shitty house party, trying and failing to find the friends you arrived with. the flashing lights were too bright and the cheap halloween decorations had been pulled off the walls by some rowdy partygoers. all you could think about was how whorishly short your skirt was and how badly you needed to wash off your makeup; your pregame shots had worn off, and you were getting more annoyed every minute.

after half an hour of searching, you decided to cut your losses and try to salvage the rest of your night. you made your way to the makeshift bar in the kitchen, serving yourself a lukewarm cup of the jungle juice that would no doubt taste like gasoline and a 1.4 gpa. it stung as it slid down your throat, but the warmth spreading through your chest made it bearable. a few gulps later, you were sufficiently wasted and decided to make your way to the dancefloor.

a few songs played as you let the crowd and vodka move your body, not caring how stupid you may have looked in your runny makeup or tiny costume. your eyes slipped closed and your hips swayed until you bumped into the broad chest of a mystery man. in shock, your eyes shot open as you stumbled over your feet, nearly falling until the stranger caught you by the waist. as you looked up to thank him and apologize for being such a clumsy mess, your eyes met a mask. it was made of red, metallic plastic molded into the shape of the devil’s face - complete with a nasty smile and curling crimson horns.

the stranger held you for a moment before helping you back onto your feet, but your eyes remain fixed on the parts of him that weren’t covered by a costume. he was wearing a plain outfit- black jeans and a skin-tight black tank top. there were thick banded tattoos curling around the muscles of his shoulders and arms, emphasizing his muscular form. as you found your footing once more, your eyes shifted back to his “face”. regardless of what could be hiding behind his cheap-ass mask, you knew you’d be willing to risk it all for this man. something about him felt… right. he remained still as you sucked in a breath and thanked the lord for liquid courage.

“wanna play a game?” you ask, twirling your hair around your finger. despite your boldness, you knew that it was a wild proposal. he hadn’t spoken a word to you yet and you were already making a move. was it dangerous? yes, very much so. but was it exhilarating? also yes. your common sense was overpowered by desire; a long-time fantasy of yours was to be chased through the woods and hunted down by a masked stranger, and the man before you fit the bill perfectly. just as you were about to turn on your heels and abandon the whole thing, he laughed. his shoulders shook, and the way they flexed deliciously under his tattoos made you stay put.

his large arms fold over his chest as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. he looms over you and his loud cologne floods your nostrils, blocking out the sharp scent of cheap vodka that had been assaulting your senses since you walked in the door. your heart began to race as the gravity of the situation set in.

his head cocks to the side. “what sort of game?” he asked playfully. you could hear the smile in his voice. for a moment you reconsidered your plan to engage in some halloween fun with a stranger, but college is the time to make mistakes, right? you smirked and shrugged as he leaned in closer, taking a step towards you. as you tried to back away slightly, you realized that escaping was futile - you found yourself backed into a literal corner as the cold sensation of cinderblocks ran down your spine.

minutes later, you found yourself running through the woods surrounding the house where you met this stranger. you had proposed a hunt - he would give you a 5 minute head start, and if he caught you then… well, you hadn’t really planned that far ahead. you were tipsy, lost, and very scantily dressed on halloween night. the fear was paralyzing, but the idea of being caught spurred you on.

after a bit of running, you ducked behind a particularly dense patch of bushes. the sounds of leaves settling, wind rushing, and small animals moving about the forest kept you on edge. you heaved one shaky breath after another, wondering if he had given up on finding you - had you run too far? had you unknowingly agreed to be dinner for a very hungry bear? just as you accepted your fate, a large hand came down and gripped your hair, yanking you up with force. you yelped as your body was lifted off the ground effortlessly by this nameless stranger.

“you can’t outsmart me, little girl,” a voice growled next to your ear. his fingers were still tangled in your hair as he pulled you away from your hiding spot, making you feel more like a body bag than a living human. he then bent you over a fallen tree and the rough sensation of bark digging into your hips and thighs was nothing compared to the bruising grip he now had around your throat.

a pitifully garbled sound left your throat as he pulled you up so that your back was pressed against his warm body. you noted the way his bulge pressed into your lower back. instinctually, you struggled against him, but you knew that he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon. your body thrashed as he wrapped his free arm around your waist, lifting you slightly so your toes were barely touching the ground. a laugh echoed through his chest and the vibration sent waves of heat to the space between your legs.

“w-what’re you gonna do to me?” you wheezed, barely louder than the whispers of the wind. the fear in your head competed with the arousal in your cunt as the hand around your throat slid up to grab you by the jaw. his large hand squished your cheeks together to form a forceful pout, and the feeling of his strong limbs enveloping your body made you wetter than you wanted to admit.

the man leaned in and the smooth plastic of his mask pressed against your face was a reminder that you were truly at his mercy. “anything i want,” he says. “i caught you, so i win, right?”

with mind numbing speed, he let your body fall and you ended up bent over the fallen tree once again. you spread your legs slowly, arching your back to give him a better look at what you could tell he was desperate for. you gnawed on your lip as he undid his belt and pulled down his pants and boxers to let his cock spring free. he took a menacing step towards you and wrapped a hand around the base, using his precum to pump himself slowly.

his movements now seemed agonizingly slow as you watched him jerk himself off and flip your skirt up with his free hand. a spank landed against the fat of your ass causing you to yelp in shock, and another laugh came from behind you.

“a-are you going to sit there and jerk off, or do you plan to fuck me?” you snapped. if he was going to be rough, you might as well give him a good reason to. wordlessly, he lifted his mask, only exposing his mouth enough to spit a fat glob of saliva onto your puckering hole. he used his thumb to spread it further down, swiping it back and forth to mix with the slick of your already drenched core. the sensation made your legs tremble as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“you’re going to wish you didn’t say that,” he said darkly.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

it felt like hours had passed since you had been found, and the party was probably long over, but you were nowhere close to going home. your pussy was swollen and dripping from the number of times he had pounded into you and dumped his cum into your cunt.

he paused for a moment to spin you around, positioning your body so that you were leaning back on the only support you could find. he wrapped his hands under your thighs, leaning you back further so he could slap his cock onto your overstimulated clit. tears fell from your eyes and smeared your makeup as he pushed back in slowly, sighing at the way your hot cunt pulled him back in. even after several rounds, the two of you couldn’t get enough.

his hands maintained a strong grip as he worked his way back up to a punishing speed, pounding into you with reckless abandon. you let your head fall back and jaw drop open like a slut. the expressionless mask he wore stared down at your shaking body as he used you like a toy. filthy squelches filled the quiet forest as you let yourself be disrespected by arguably one of the sexiest people you had never met, despite the fact that you had never seen his face.

your legs wrapped around his waist as you pulled him in closer, hungry for more. his hands slid up your body and rested in the dip of your waist. his fingertips dug into your soft skin, securing you in place as he hammered into you; you could only imagine what the bruises would look like the next morning. wanton moans left your lips as you struggled to think straight. “a-ah fuck, you feel sooo fuckin’ good, baby” you slurred. “so deep inside m-me!~”

“yeah? you like the way i fuck you like a slut?” he growled into your ear as the tip of his cock tapped your g-spot deliciously. his voice was muffled by the plastic of his mask, but you could hear the lust in the way he spoke. “what else do you want from me, hm? use your words, dollface.”

your throat was sore from the moans he had pulled out of you and the breaths that he had stifled with his hand wrapped around your throat throughout the evening, but you managed to suck in enough air to utter one thing. “w-want you to spit in my mouth, daddy,” you whined. in an attempt to persuade him, you tilted your head up and batted your eyelashes, now clumped together from your tears and runny mascara. your eyes searched for his through the reflective red plastic, but you found nothing.

”aww, poor baby needs a drink,” he said, moving one hand to grip your jaw. his fingers pressed your lips into a tight pout. they were swollen and covered in spit, just enough to catch the moonlight and illuminate your fucked-out expression. you nodded to the best of your ability, your jaw still locked in place as he maintained his firm grip. “don’t worry, i’ll give you what you want.”

your weak hands, previously balled into fists at your sides, reached up towards his face in an attempt to remove his mask. its artificial smile had been mocking you all night, and you were ready to see the man that had been pounding you for the last several hours. despite your best efforts, you failed to reach higher than his neck. he snickered and took one of your wrists to guide your fingers to the chin of his mask, allowing you to remove it yourself.

as the red plastic was lifted up and off of his face, his eyes met yours and it took you a few moments to register exactly who was looking back at you. he seemed to recognize the look of shock and confusion on your face, because he stilled his hips and furrowed his brows. “…am i ugly or something?” he asked.

“n-no it’s just… we know each other,” you stuttered, trying to bring your knees together in embarrassment. he pulled out slowly and allowed you to stand up just enough to pull your skirt down to cover yourself. “sukuna, we have class together like… several times a week. molecular biology, remember?” you ask. his eyes search your face for a hint of familiarity, and it takes a few seconds for him to recognize you.

”oh.. shit. i didn’t recognize you- y-your hair is different, you never wear makeup like that, i swear i didn’t-“ he says hurriedly. you raised your hand to cut him off as you think about what to say next. sukuna wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, so you took it upon yourself to do damage control. the silence in the air hung heavy as you thought about how to handle this. what would your friends say? can you even go back to that class? back to school? should you just drop out, move across the country, and change your name?

“shut the fuck up, okay? let me think,” you snapped. your brain was foggy from the number of times he made you cum, and it was hard to ignore the feeling of his previous loads leaking down your legs. the logical side of your brain told you to end things now, make him swear on his life that he would never tell a soul about tonight, and ignore him forever. the reckless side of your brain was still focused on the way he held you down and bounced your ass back onto his hips, making your eyes roll into your head and drool leak from the corners of your mouth. you rubbed the bridge of your nose as you weighed the options in your head.

“we’ve already come this far, right? i wanna cum one more time… don’t you?” he asked quietly, despite your previous command. “it’s not like i’ll tell anyone… unless you want to. i’ve always thought you were kinda… you know…” he trailed. one of his hands reached out and rested itself on your hip, bringing you back to reality. you hate to admit it, but he had a point.

a deep sigh heaved from your chest. “i guess so, yeah. but just one more, okay? you can’t tell anyone, and-“ before you could continue, he cut you off with a firm kiss to your lips. you protested for a moment, but the way his hot tongue slid into your mouth halted your racing thoughts. sukuna’s large hands roamed your body, his touch softer now, slowly laying you back down onto the fallen tree you had been relying on for support.

his lips moved from your mouth to your temples, then down to your neck. warm kisses trailed down your body as you screwed your eyes shut, trying and failing to forget who was making you shudder in pleasure. his hands rested on your hips as he knelt between your legs lifting your thighs and putting them over his shoulders. his head slipped under your skirt and his warm breath fanned against your cunt, still slick from how wet he left you.

one of your hands tangled itself in his hair, guiding his mouth to your clit. you felt him laugh softly as he slipped two fingers between your folds, running them over your slit. sukuna pressed soft kisses to your clit as you bit your lips to suppress your whines. it was embarrassing how good he was at this.

”hey, don’t quiet yourself now. need ta’ know if i’m doing good for you,” he sighed into your cunt. you sucked in a shaky breath and willed yourself to relax, which came easily as his lips worked your clit faster. as you got wetter, louder and longer whimpers escaped from between your lips. his flattened tongue swiped back and forth, and before you knew it, he was pushing it inside you.

it dipped in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit quickly. he ate you out with a sense of urgency, and the longer he went, the closer you got to cumming down his throat. your thighs trembled as you jerked his head back and forth, helping him tongue-fuck you harder and deeper. it felt so wrong to be using him like this, knowing that you’d have to face him for the rest of the semester, but none of that mattered as he let you use his mouth to make yourself cum one more time.

sukuna quickly swapped his tongue and fingers, now sucking on your clit and pushing his middle and ring finger into your tightening pussy. he curled his fingers, working slowly and then picking up his speed. your grip on his scalp relaxed as you felt yourself reaching the edge, but something was different. a sense of panic washed over you as you recognized the sensation between your legs.

”w-wait hold on i think i have to- fuck- wait!” you pleaded, but he was too caught up in making you feel as good as possible. the way his fingers curled into your g-spot pressed onto your bladder, and with one gentle bite on your clit, you reached the edge. if you were paying attention, you would’ve noticed the way he smiled against your cunt as if he knew what was happening before you did.

”s-sukuna ohhh my god, fuck! i think i’m gonna-“ your rambling was cut off as a scream was ripped from your throat. as if he predicted the future, he pulled his face away but kept his fingers pumping inside you as you squirted down his face. it came out in spurts as your hips bucked, the clear liquid spraying out and into his open mouth. as you came down from your high, his fingers slowed to a stop and you looked down at the way his half lidded eyes focused on your cunt. your cheeks burned red hot as he stood up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand as if he just had the best meal of his life. from his perspective, he did.

your body shuddered from exhaustion but he positioned himself between your legs, pulling his hardened cock out of his pants. “if you don’t want this just say so, but i’m desperate for you baby. can i fuck you? please?” he whined. he tapped his swollen tip against your thigh, smearing a bit of precum onto your skin. a shaky breath escaped his lips as he swiped himself over your slit.

you nodded, ready for more but still weak from your most recent orgasm. “take it slow, okay? you fucked me up a little bit,” you laughed softly, barely able to lift your head high enough to look at him. the lower half of his face was still coated in your juices but his shit eating grin made you feel a little bit less guilty about drowning him in your pussy. it was his doing though, so could he be that mad at you?

one of sukuna’s large hands rested on your thigh, holding your legs apart, and the other was wrapped around his base to guide himself into you. soft, wet squelches filled the cold forest as he pushed deeper into your core. his eyes were focused on the dripping slick between your thighs and once he bottomed out, a deep sigh rolled through his body.

his dark eyes met yours as he began thrusting slowly, and his previously sinister energy had been replaced by something softer. his deep strokes were almost… romantic. “h-how are you doing?” he whispered. his hand found your cheek, brushing away a strand of hair that was stuck to your face. “you look beautiful.”

”f-feels good- mmmphh- so deep inside me,” you responded. his thick shaft stretched you deliciously with every thrust, and your fingers made their way to your clit, rubbing gentle circles. sweat-soaked strands of his hair hung in front of his forehead as he looked down at where your bodies met, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. the poor boy was pussydrunk and he didn’t even know it.

one of your hands settled on his forearm, holding him for support. your other hand slipped up your stomach and under your shirt to push it up. his eyes flicked away from your gushing cunt as you revealed your breasts, now bouncing with every thrust of his hips.

“n-need my mouth on you,” he said, barely finishing his sentence before he bent down to take one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth. the cold air had kept them hard all night, and the way his hot tongue felt swirling around that sensitive spot made you tremble.

your shaking and squirming only seemed to spur him on. he then angled his hips upwards so his tip would be mashing into your g-spot repeatedly. deep groans left his mouth but went straight to your chest - he was stuck between your tits and had no intention of leaving.

his whines became higher pitched, and you could feel his hips start to stutter. “gonna come for me, ‘kuna? gonna fill me up again?” you cooed. the hand on his arm slipped into his hair, slicking it back messily. he shifted his eyes to meet yours and nodded quickly.

”need it, need you so bad, baby, gonna c-cum,” he whispered against your skin. his warm breath danced across your chest and made you arch up into him, your bodies meeting in the middle. the chilled air and heavy lust had you pressed so close against him that you could almost feel the beat of his heart trying to match yours.

your fingers tightened, pulling on his hair slightly harder. this small sign of desperation is what pushed him over the edge. all at once, his balls tensed and his strokes slowed as he reached his high. soft moans punctuated each thrust every time his sensitive tip hit the back wall of your pussy.

“oh ‘kuna, f-fuck,” you sighed. hot, white ropes shot out of his throbbing cock and painted your insides. high pitched whimpers left his throat and were muffled as he buried his head further into your chest. you could feel the way his cock throbbed every time he released more cum. you clenched around him hard, hoping to hold in as much of his warm seed as possible. his hips eventually slowed to a stop and your grip on his scalp loosened.

”w-was that good for you? ‘was good for me,” sukuna breathed out. a dopey smile spread across his features as he pulled out slowly. intently, he watched his cum dribble out of you. his eyes then became focused on yours, waiting for a response.

”yeah, that was pretty good i’d say,” you responded. the air felt sharp against your skin as you fixed yourself up, hoping that the cum running down your leg didn’t look as thick as it felt. after brushing yourself off, sukuna took your hand and led you out of the forest, back towards civilization.

he snickered in reply. “wanna come back to mine? seems like we both need a shower, maybe some food… and we should probably talk.”

[radicalrascals]

Vaneza stood there with wide eyes, almost in admiration, just a heartbeat from cheering Tisha on for talking to Delegado Colmilho the way he deserved. Well. Almost. Because she was still her father's new girlfriend, and something about that just had the same effect on her as tasting milk gone bad. It'll be fine. It'll be fine in due time. As long as they were granted enough of the same.

Rafael didn't even challenge Tisha's pleading with words of his own, he just pulled her into a tight hug and kissed her forehead feverishly. How could life be this unfair that he would have to choose between getting his daughter out of this nightmare and standing by his love's side until the very end. "I swear, if you're cheating to win the race..." Their race. Their stupid little race to an untimely death. May it be by pissing off the wrong people or at the claws of hellish creatures from the fourth dimension. Judging by the way Colmilho looked at them, he wouldn't have been picky. Either was fine. Hell, he might've volunteered.

"There's a distinct difference between survival instinct and the explosive combination of sheer dumb luck and extraordinary stupidity," the delegado growled, though that was all he had on offer for mean commentary. The situation was too grave, what Tisha and Rafael shared might as well be the last time they saw each other alive. And goodbyes were sacred to him, especially since he never got to say his goodbyes.

"I'll be there when you need me, and gone when you need me out of your way. But if you don't come back to me, I'll come for you. I'll look for you, querida. And I will find you," Rafa promised before he let Tisha go to lead the strange exhibition further towards the centre of the nightmare labyrinth.

"Enough survival instinct to follow his daughter's voice and lead us away from whatever turned your men into fucking puppets." Tisha snaps before she can stop herself. "Not to mention, the balls to follow me up that fucking ladder while you stood there with your thumb up your ass."

She’s tempted to swap to French when she turns back to Rafael, if only to spare Vaneza the schmaltz, but whether it’s Colmilho’s (now probably days old) threat that stops her, or that she doesn’t particularly fucking care if he makes fun of them for it this time, she doesn’t. “Look. Six months ago I wouldn’t have given a shit if I got out of here, alive or otherwise. The only reason that’s different now is you. That probably makes me a... shitty sister, and a shitty daughter, and a shitty aunt, but it's the truth. If I'm gonna get out of here, it's because you two, both of you," funny how fast these things shift, how college kid I don't know becomes family member I'd die for vicariously "are ahead of me, whether it's two meters or two hours, but it's not happening if you're a half a step behind me. Okay?" She can hear it now, a sound like a wine glass or a copper bowl being played. "It's this way."

[nattikay]

"waaaaaa James Cameron is sTEaLiNG from ATLA!!!11!!1!"

sigh yeah sorry but this is just a really stupid claim. There are some fun coincidences, but they are just that: coincidence, nothing more. If it weren't for the fact that both franchises happen to use the word "avatar", a term which neither of them owns nor invented, it wouldn't have even crossed your mind to compare them.

Oh, they both have "water" themed groups? Sure, but the concept of "water" is really the only thing those groups have in common. The Water Tribes in ATLA are arctic-dwelling peoples heavily inspired by the Inuit (plus the Swampbenders, idk if they have a formal name or how widespread their society is), neither of which are locations or cultures we've seen explored in James Cameron's Avatar (which for the sake of this post we'll abbreviate to JCA). Meanwhile, the Metkayina clan in JCA are a tropical island-dwelling people heavily inspired by the Maori and other Polynesian cultures, which likewise is a culture/location that ATLA didn't explore.

They both have an "evil" fire-themed group? Sure, but again it's not 1:1 and it's very odd that y'all are acting like ATLA invented the concept of fire=bad guys. This one's a little harder to analyze because we of course don't know a lot about the Mangkuan clan yet, but from what little we've heard, it seems their reason for being antagonists is that they've turned their backs on Eywa (the deity revered by most Na'vi clans) after a series of natural disasters destroyed their homeland and they felt Eywa didn't do enough to help them. This is a very different motivation from the Fire Nation, who are antagonists because Sozin was power-hungry enough to commit unprovoked genocide on a peaceful nation and start a hundred-year war to conquer the other two. "Fire" and "antagonists" are the only similarities these groups have.

It's also worth noting that the Fire Nation are the primary antagonists of ATLA, whereas the Mangkuan (as far as we can currently tell) are only secondary antagonists in JCA, who may or may not get involved with the actual primary antagonists, the RDA. In this sense, if we're going to force a connection between ATLA and JCA, the Mangkuan might actually be more conceptually comparable to the Dai Lee than to the Fire Nation. Both are factions of what are supposed to be a "good" group (the Na'vi and Earth Kingdom, respectively) who got involved in shady practices and wind up aligning with the primary antagonists (the RDA and Fire Nation). There are still plenty of differences, of course, and this is far too broad a concept to call it a definitive "copy", but there you go.

They both have a group of flying travelers? The Air Nomads were monks and spiritualists who migrated between their own four temples. The Windtraders—based on what very very little we currently know—are merchants who travel to various other clans to trade.

All these comparisons are based on very broad vague ideas that can potentially be executed in a gazillion different unique ways. I don't think James Cameron "stole" these ideas from ATLA, but hey, for the sake of argument, let's say he did. Let's assume that he did purposefully take the very vague very broad ideas of "water people" and "evil fire people" and "flying travelers" specifically and exclusively from ATLA. What he's DOING with these ideas is still completely different from what ALTA does with them.

Take it from someone who adores both franchises: they are completely different. One is about humans with supernatural ability to bend the elements in a fantasy universe heavily inspired by primarily Asian cultures, the other is about a nine-foot-tall blue alien race living on an alien moon where everything glows in the dark and every living being on said moon has the ability to biologically "plug in" to a global neural network. As I mentioned at the beginning of the post, the only reason anyone even thinks to compare them in the first place is merely that their titles share the word "avatar", a term which again neither franchise owns nor invented. If they didn't share this title, nobody would be calling any of these things a "copy". stop.

[churino]

Design for brainstorm and arcana (brainstorm's headmaster)

Brainstorm was one of the autobot scientists aboard the Xantium. On the surface, brainstorm is just another excited ideas man, creative and overactive, but he has a secret.

His head is full of crabs.

Brainstorm is one of The Headmasters, a secret society that controls and monitors transformer's relations with alien species. Each partnered with an organic alien turned headmaster unit, they have sinister plans regarding earth, The Headmasters were a team formed by prowl on the ark prior to his mission to earth. Since then, they've outgrown him. And serve their own interests.

Brainstorm is their senior scientist, his laboratory back home on fortress maximus is located on the titan's stomach where he experiments pushing the boundaries of science to their limits, sometimes with adverse effects to his safety and of those around him (lets just say. Stomach acid isn't a normal part of a titan let alone a regular transformer)

However he isn't unmatched, brainstorm is always scouting out new talent, secretly testing them for membership in The Headmasters, and nautica has impressed him, creating a concoction that can clean up the results of his previous mishap on fort max. But parsec poses an issue, he doesn't have what it takes and it's very uncommon for headmaster partners to separate permanently, their connection so intertwined, they're extensions of each other. So brainstorm can't actually send out an invitation to her from fear of knowledge of The Headmasters coming out to the public. For now only arcana and him know of nautica's potential

Arcana is an alien arthropod from the planet fore lobal V. His species comunicates telepathically with others, which means he's always talking to whoever he pleases, and only those people, regardless of distance, arcana himself, is incredibly anti-social, and reclusive

He hides secrets even from Brainstorm, always some scheme running in the background, but not out of malice. It's just the way he is. Arcana is different from everybody. And he sees the world differently. Even with his sparce interactions arcana provides brainstorm with a valuable perspective, and secret insights of the mind,

Over time brainstorm has become increasingly convinced that blurring the line between mechanoids and organics is the future for both their races and the connection to arcana's expanded mind can be partially to blame for it,

[thetepes]

Not to play devils advocate, but I feel like lilys opinion on the usage of the n word is valid. Regardless of someone’s race, I think it’s a little backwards to dictate what someone has to say about another races cultures just because they’re white (or not of that culture), differing opinions aren’t the end of the world and hers wasn’t inherently racist I fear the same goes for the anime thing too, I’m sorry but Japan DOES have of a loli problem, even if her wording was extreme

I’m not white myself (to be fair, not black/japanese either), not that I think it matters to what I can and can’t say about this but I don’t want you to assume I am white because I somewhat defended lily, which is someone I did NOT want to run defense to but maybe I’m too conservative for this space but I mean this in the most respectful way possible, it feels like some of you are reaching on some things just to paint her in a worse light, as if she wasn’t already famously bad 😭

(Feel free to correct me, I’m not trying to be intentionally ignorant for the sake of it I’m just tired of hearing of a lot of echo chambers about the issue without getting to WHY what she says is racist when I think like pretty reasonable??)

Anon, my friend, I do not know how to break this to you, but that is racist. I know you do not mean to be. I know you're trying your best to be as inoffensive as possible. I'm going to do my very best to answer you genuinely because you seem genuine.

Saying Japan has a Loli problem is like saying America has a child pageant problem. It's there. It's a problem, but it's not something floating on the surface everyone in Japan is aware of the magnitude of. It's a niche genre of ero fiction that comes up about as much to your every day Japanese person as child pageants in America.

In the 80's there was this loli boom that took place where it split off from your more typical bishōjo into lolicon. You would find stuff like Future Boy under that genre long before you'd find any ero.

It wasn't until an otaku named Tsutomu Miyazaki was arrested in the late 80s that the darker side of loli came to the awareness of your every day Japanese person. It was a popular genre so there was a LOT of hentai of it. He killed and murdered several little girls between the ages of I think 3 to 6 and it started a panic very similar to the Satanic Panic that happened in USAmerica. He had a massive collection of anime and hentai. I mean massive. From normal things you'd see in Walmart to stuff you could only buy from very specific websites online no normal person would even know about. It wasn't just Loli that was effected though it was all anime.

It's why Otaku culture was so repressed and shameful for a long time and it even killed the Loli boom because the style was associated with the killings. It wasn't until very recently that Otaku culture made a come back, but still Loli isn't making that come back because of the online opinion on Lolicon. It's gone from an art style to something a lot darker and I think that's where the communication sort of faulters? Because if you say to a Japanese person "you have a loli problem" they're going to think you're having a Satanic Panic moment at them.

At least that's been my experience.

This whole thing is why there was the Moe boom in the 2000's, it was an over correction on the part of artists. Trying desperately to get away from that label and people taking advantage of that as well to make slop.

The rise of the Lolita in Harajuku also muddied the water on this because there's an entire beautiful subculture there that branches into a thousand different expressions. "You have a loli problem!" What's the problem with girls in frilly dresses?

You as someone online, who is adept at being online, in critical spaces and animation/anime spaces have so much more exposure to this stuff than anyone on the daily in Japan.

The entire world has a porn problem. The entire world has a sexualizing little girls problem. To point at Japan and specifically repeatedly deem the entire country as having an issue with pedophilia is racist. To go out of your way to bring it up when you're not even discussing anime or Japan is racist. When your hate and ignorance for a place and it's people bleeds into everything you do

That is racism.

[fatimabb]

Tooru Oikawa was never one to lose—not on the volleyball court, not in school, and certainly not when it came to charm. With his easy smile, his endless charisma, and a fan club of admirers, he never had to try very hard to capture attention. And yet, when it came to you, the one person who seemed blissfully immune to his antics, Oikawa found himself completely and utterly out of his depth.

It started innocently enough. You were a classmate, someone who didn’t fawn over his every move or sigh when he passed by in the hallways. It wasn’t that you disliked him—you were polite, even friendly, when you spoke to him—but there was a calmness to you that threw him off balance. You weren’t affected by his teasing winks or the way he played up his natural charm. You just smiled at him like he was… normal. And for someone like Oikawa, who thrived on adoration, that was maddeningly intriguing.

He told himself it was just curiosity at first. After all, who wouldn’t be curious about the person who could ignore Tooru Oikawa? But before long, curiosity turned into something else—something warmer and more frantic, the kind of feeling that made his heart race when you walked into the room or when your laugh drifted across the classroom.

Oikawa had a crush. A big, stupid, boyish crush that he had no idea how to handle. And he had 5 signature attempts to get your attention.

1. The “Oh, I Didn’t See You There” Strategy

Oikawa started popping up wherever you were, as if by coincidence. If you were in the library, he’d conveniently show up with a volleyball playbook, claiming he needed a quiet space to study. If you were walking to class, he’d suddenly appear beside you, falling into step like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here,” he’d say, his grin boyish and a little too smug.

“You’re literally always here at this time,” you’d reply with a raised brow, but you’d smile anyway, and that alone was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

2. The “Help Me” Excuse

Despite his confidence on the court, Oikawa knew how to play the helpless card when it suited him. One day, he leaned over your desk, his brown eyes wide with exaggerated desperation.

“Y/N,” he whined, dragging out your name, “I need your help. My science grade is in the dumps, and if I fail another test, Iwa-chan will kill me.”

You glanced up from your notebook, unimpressed. “Oikawa, you have better grades than half the class.”

“Not in this class,” he shot back, clutching his chest dramatically. “Please? You’re the only one I can trust.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue—he did need a little help in science—but mostly, he just wanted an excuse to spend time with you. When you eventually sighed and agreed, his grin was so wide you thought he might pull a muscle.

3. The “Accidental” Compliments

Oikawa was known for his flirtation, but with you, his compliments were different—softer, less calculated, and always followed by a faint blush that he’d try to hide.

“Did you do something different with your hair today?” he asked one morning, leaning on the edge of your desk.

“No, why?”

“Because it looks really nice,” he said, his tone unusually earnest. And when you blinked at him in surprise, his cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly added, “Not that it doesn’t always look nice, but, um, today it’s… extra nice.”

It was clumsy, a little awkward, and completely unlike the smooth, confident Oikawa everyone else knew. But you just smiled at him, a little softer this time, and he walked away feeling like he’d just won a championship.

4. The “Watch Me Shine” Plan

Of course, Oikawa couldn’t resist showing off on the volleyball court. If you happened to watch practice, he’d go out of his way to spike harder, jump higher, and throw in a few more dramatic moves than usual.

“Y/N, did you see that serve?” he’d call out after a particularly impressive play, jogging over with a grin.

“I did,” you replied, clapping politely. “It was good.”

“Good?” he repeated, feigning offense. “Just good?”

You laughed. “Okay, okay, it was great. You’re amazing, Oikawa.”

The way his cheeks flushed at your praise didn’t go unnoticed by Iwaizumi, who elbowed him as he passed. “You’re hopeless,” Iwa muttered, shaking his head.

5. The Little Things

Despite all his grand gestures, it was the little things Oikawa did that gave him away. He’d save you a seat at lunch, even when his fan club was glaring daggers at you. He’d bring you a drink after practice, claiming he “just happened to have an extra.” He’d listen—really listen—when you talked about your day, filing away every little detail about your likes and dislikes.

Once, during a rainy afternoon, you forgot your umbrella, and Oikawa appeared at your side with his own.

“Guess you’ll just have to share with me,” he said with a smirk, but his voice was softer than usual, and the way he held the umbrella tilted toward you so you wouldn’t get wet made your heart flutter.

The Confession

It wasn’t planned. Oikawa wasn’t the type to wing something as important as confessing to you, but somehow, the words spilled out one evening after practice. You’d waited for him, sitting on the bleachers with a book in hand, and the sight of you there—so calm, so effortlessly you—made his chest ache in the best way.

“Y/N,” he called, walking over, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Hm?” You looked up, closing your book.

He hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He should’ve had a speech ready, something charming and perfect, but instead, all he could manage was, “You know I like you, right?”

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought he’d messed everything up. But then you smiled, soft and a little shy, and his heart soared.

“I was starting to get the feeling,” you teased, your voice light.

Oikawa let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, running a hand through his hair. “You’re really going to make me say it, huh?”

You nodded, and he laughed, his confidence returning.

“Okay, fine. I like you, Y/N. A lot. And if you’d let me, I’d like to take you out—on a real date, not just me pretending I’m bad at science to spend time with you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, you were pretending?”

“Mostly,” he admitted with a grin.

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

“Does that mean yes?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but smiled. “Yeah, it means yes.”

His grin could’ve lit up the whole gym, and as he leaned closer, you thought that maybe, just maybe, Tooru Oikawa wasn’t so bad after all.

[taesanfairy]

love at first sight | p.s

MDNI 18 + 🐧

wc : 1.4k

smut tags : unprotected sex (don’t do it), grinding, phone sex, just sex really. 💌

you were on vacation in japan with your mom, today you were in kamakura, japan. so far it was your favorite place in the world, everything about it screamed you. it was a small town near the beach, the entire time felt like a fever dream, it was so perfect for you.

it had become lunch time by the time you arrived to kamakura so you and your mom walked around until you found a cute ramen shop. when you entered you could see the beach through the windows, it had a cozy type of vibe, and it was warm. even though it was summer you were craving some ramen, and you're in japan so of course you had to get some. to order your food, you had to order on a machine, and then you were seated.

the boy who had seated you gave you butterflies, he was so pretty, almost as pretty as a jellyfish. he had a sharp jawline, fluffy dark hair, very attractive eyebrows, and just perfectness. as you were seated you couldn't keep your eyes off of him, he was exactly your type. He welcomed you and your mom as she told him in chopped japanese we speak english. he smiled at you and then tried to speak to you in english. even his voice was pretty, you were falling hard over a server, in a foreign country. he walked away to work but even as he walked away his eyes couldn't stop looking at you.

when he delivered your food, you ate it fast. maybe it's biased to think it was the best ramen you've ever had since there was a cute waiter but it was really fucking tasty. when you both finished your food the server came over and cleaned the table. when you left the ramen shop, your heart was racing.

walking back to the place you were staying you couldn't stop thinking about him. your mom had been talking about how good the food was but you couldn't help but only think about him. after a while you stopped thinking about him, enjoying your trip.

the next day you had convinced your mom to go again, maybe not fully telling her you want to go for the boy but it was tasty. when you entered the ramen shop he greeted you both with a smile and a wave. he was getting into your heart faster and faster. you both ordered what you had gotten the previous day and ate it until you both were full. when he came to get your bowls he smiled at you, almost flirtatiously.

over the week you couldn't stop thinking about him hoping you could have you anime romance moment but nothing seemed to show up for you. as your mom and you were walking to get some conveyer sushi he passed by you. he took a double look and waved at you, he was about to ride off but he gave you a smile and biked off. like seiji amasawa hehe.

when you went back one last time you asked for his number as your mom was distracted. he smiled at you and wrote down his number and his name.

xxx-xxx-xxxx park sunghoon.

the boy you had fallen head over heels for was named park sunghoon.

when you and your mom traveled back to tokyo you messaged sunghoon. you both used google translate to talk to each other, but it seemed that both people had fallen for the other. You both spent hour and hours talking to each other until one night he confesses to you.

“y/n、 私はあなたが好きです (watashi wa anata ga sukidesu) I like you”. He said over the phone. By this time you were both on the other side of the world (depending on where you live). Even though you had both been speaking to each other your heart still couldn’t handle what he had said to you. it was like a dream, and then you both started going out, online yes but you both knew it was true love.

over time you both fell harder and harder wanting to go farther together, and here you were on the phone with him, but differently this time. Over time you both became better at the opposing language, speaking more fluently together. you  had your legs spread, dripping from arousal. the call had become heated quickly, only over a few sentences about how you missed each other. sunghoon turned on his video camera and showed you what he was doing, thinking about you, his hand slowly gripped his shaft as he was easing the pain of his erection. you whimpered out trying to hold in your noises but you couldn’t help but imagine every inch inside of you. when you turned on your camera you showed how wet you had become over the dirty talk. you could see sunghoon smirking through the phone, proud of what he was making you feel. he gripped his shaft, letting out a low groan and asked you to touch more. you smiled at his chopped english and traced your fingers around your folds, teasing the tips of your fingers to your sopping pussy. he moved the phone closer to his bulge showing you how hard he had become. you whimpered at how big he looked, and how pretty his fingers looked wrapped along his long length. you placed the camera so he had full view of your entire body, you had taken off your shirt to show off your chest. he threw his head back, thrusting hard into his hand. he had cum into his hand, moaning as you messed with your perk nipples. he showed the mess he made as you came close. cumming all over your hand, you showed him and you both took deep breathes.

“goodnight baby, i love you” sunghoon said while hanging up

a few months later, sunghoon got the chance to work in (country you live in), due to his english improving and always wanting to go there. you smiled happily, you were finally able to be with the boy you fell hard for. he wasn’t planning on moving for a few months but he was worth the wait.

(seven months later)

sunghoon exited his plane looking for you, fixing his hair, checking he looked good (please he always does). when he saw you he walked faster, but not running, as an introvert he didn’t want to cause a scene. when he had you in his arms he nuzzled his nose into your neck. you walked him to your car and pulled him into the driver’s seat, seating yourself onto his lap. he groaned at the impact, and the weight on his crotch. His hands made their way to your hips, grinding you into him. he pulled you into a heated kiss, you smiled and pulled back.

“we should probably head to my house instead of doing it here.” you say. He nodded and moved into the passenger seat. as you drove to your house your hands wandered over to sunghoon’s body. you rubbed him through his pants and felt how big his length was. 

when you arrived home you led him up to your room, seating yourself on your bed. you laid down and he pulled you up again. he smiled, but you could see the desire floating in his eyes. sunghoon kissed you again but softly, completely different from earlier. sunghoon pulled you onto his lap and held you, like a glass doll he didn't want to chip.

as you both became hotter and hotter he touched you more. you pulled back and drank in his entire presence, zipper undone, hair messy, lips puffy, and a very visible bulge. he kissed you with more want this time. he lifted his hips so he could take his pant off, your eyes grew at his erection pushing against his boxers.

"i'm not even going to lie to you, i prepped myself before picking you up" you say. he blushes at your words nodding. he removed his boxers as you removed your own clothes. you spread you folds to show sunghoon, and he placed his cock on the exposed skin. you whimper as he brushed against your clit, arching your back. he then entered you, his thickness causing you to see stars. when bottomed out he whimpered, you were so fucked out, the boy you've wanted was deep inside of you. he then started up a pace, fucking you the way he's been waiting for. your high came fast and surprised you, as he felt you pulse around him he rubbed your clit, pleasing you further.

after multiple rounds he set you down and laid next to you. you then both drifted off to sleep, finally together. <3

so the real event was there was a cute waiter. like he was fucking adorable. i met him in kamakura at the ramen shop. i added romance to it but i was like 16 at the time and he was probably 18 maybe 20, yes i went back twice to see him and also passed him on his bike. he was so fine. anyways nothing actually happened but he will forever be in my heart <3