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nekohime19 · 2 months ago

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🌟Neko Shadowpeach Au Guide!🌟

I have so many Shadowpeach Au I can't even 😭

This post is mainly for me to organize myself bc I'm beginning to have a lot of ideas for Au, and a lot of Au in general and I need to write that somewhere or I'm gonna get lost, 😌.

But also it's to let you guys know about future Au I would probably write and see if you like them.

Of course if you guys have any questions about any of my Au's, even the unpublished one, feel free to ask, 😁.

alright here we go :

Published

Monkeys silly love life :

Summary : Macaque never met the great sage, nor the brotherhood, he simply lived like a hermit until his lantern was stolen by a thrall. He finds himself coming to Megapolis in search of his lantern, there he meets MK, his friends and one particularly insistent golden-furred monkey who seems keen on flirting with him despite the Lady Bone Demon taking over the world.

Fic : series of three fic on Ao3

Who said you can't flirt in an apocalypse?

Monkeys discovering the wide world of dating.

I know the world is ending but will you marry me?

Status : all fics completed

Vibe : fluff and humor

Heart behind the lie :

Summary : Sun Wukong's mind is severely damaged by the Lady Bone Demon's possession, leading him to act like a beast. Macaque being the only person he trusts in this state, he is designated as his babysitter. Macaque refuses at first but then finds himself needing magic to survive and decides to accept being a babysitter to better steal Sun Wukong's magic. He might became more attached than he planned for.

Fic : fic on Ao3 + being re-published on Tumblr with two chapters a day

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : emotional angst, feels and fluff

Publishing day : At least once a week

Tumblr tag (including fanarts /answers /memes /chapters) : Heart behind the lie

Mini Mac :

Summary : One day Sun Wukong discovers that a little black-furred monkey had been living in the walls of his stone mansion and decides to befriend him. Problem is, the little black-furred beauty is not keen on deepening his relationship with him, thus the sage has to gain his trust first.

Fic : one fic on Tumblr and Ao3

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff, humor and very light angst

Publishing day : Two to three chapters a week

Tumblr tag (including memes / answers / fanarts/chapters) : Mini Mac au

Bimawen :

Summary : What if Heaven actually gave weight to the title of Bimawen and treated Sun Wukong with respect, even if reluctant? Sun Wukong would have never gone on a rampage and quietly taken care of the horses. Years after Sun Wukong has taken his horsley duties Heaven found another celestial monkey, the Six-eared Macaque causing mayhem in the mortal world. The macaque is judged and if he wants to avoid his execution, he has to become the bimawen's assistant. The problem is the monkeys don't really like each other.

Fic : one on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff, humor and feels / JTTW oriented

Publishing day : Once to twice a month (often more bc I'm inspired)

Tumblr tag (including memes / fanarts / answers / chapters) : Bimawen au

Share my glow (co-writing with Pen-Women)

Summary : Macaque never met Wukong in his life. He is known as the Shadow Weaver, a mysterious entity who guides the one lost in the night. His lantern is the last artifact LBD needs to complete her mech and take over the world. When his forest is frozen by the Thrall he has no choice but to follow a troublesome team of heroes with a particularly flirty Monkey King.

Fic : one in Ao3

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff and angst / ABO

Publishing day : Once a week (every Sunday)

AITA for sleeping with the guy my girlfriend is cheating on me with? :

Summary : A reddit style story with interactive comments about Wukong mess of a love life (and his gay awakening). Wukong learns his girlfriend is cheating on him so in an act of pettiness he confront the secret side boyfriend. What he didn't expect was to get along with Macaque and, after explaining the situation and discovering Macaque had no idea he was a side piece, to get hammered and sleep with him.

Fic : on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : completed (for now)

Vibe : crack and humor

Tumblr tag : AITA shadowpeach

Unpublished

So here is are my ideas for different Au's! Of course, bc those are still ideas in working, summaries might change a lil bit when I actually write them. Idk if I'll write them all though. They're classed from the one I want to write the most after I'm finished with Heart behind the lie and Mini Mac to ideas in passing.

Love Addicts :

Summary : Macaque and Sun Wukong find themselves feeling miserable after season 5. MK lost his powers when he jumped in the pillar, and both monkeys can't help but feel guilty. Sun Wukong then stumbles upon an odd door in his treasure trove and discovers the existence of a bar selling love potions. Despite hating each other, both monkeys decides to drink one potion to recover some sort of happiness, letting themselves be in love for one week. They take another one after the end of this first week and soon become addicted to the taste of love, even if this love is fake.

Fic : will be on Ao3 (debating if I'm gonna add it to Tumblr)

Status : unwritten / I'm planning this one after Heart behind the lie

Vibe : angst, fluff and feel, smut

Love rings true :

Summary : Sun Wukong took the throne of the Jade Emperor after the attack on Heavens orchestrated by the brotherhood. One day, Wukong gain a new jester, the most famous entertainer of the mortal realm : the Six-eared Macaque. Wukong becomes very enamored with his new jester but he doesn't know how to talk to him. As such he decides to approach him in an unusual way... He becomes a bell and spend the day at his jester's side, on his hat.

Fic : will be on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : unwritten / Planning this after Mini Mac

Vibe : fluff and humor

Pacific rim Au :

Summary : For a long time, Sun Wukong and Macaque were the best Rangers in the world. Their performance was flawless, their compatibility undeniable, they piloted the Shadowpeach as if it was a part of their own bodies. But after a particular incident, they were never able to pilot together again. Years after, Macaque is required to pilot with Wukong for one last time. One last mission. Maybe having the world on the line will push them both to rekindle what was once lost.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : unwritten : fleshing out the lore

Vibe : feels and fluff, smut

Tumblr tag (including lore) : Shadowpeach pacific rim au

Monkey Cop Mania :

Summary : Both monkeys find themselves being transported to a movie-like dimension in which Sun Wukong is the insanely famous Monkey Cop and Macaque a world-wide known thief accused of murder. If they want to get back to their own dimension, they have to solve a murder and finish the movie's scenario. Problem is neither mystic monkeys turn out to be great detectives.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten

Vibe : Humor and feels

Once upon a monkey

Summary : various long one shots of shadowpeach being in different fairy tales.

How to bewitch the witch : Wukong is the prince of the Sun Kingdom and falls in love with the cruel sea witch, Macaque, while said witch was destroying his wedding with the mermaid prince, Azure. Once Azure returns to his kingdom and their wedding falls void, Wukong does everything in his power to court Macaque. Turns out, courting a sea witch is quite difficult.

The strongest of them all : Macaque is a magic mirror with the ability to hear past, present and future terribly in love with his owner, the King Sun Wukong. One day Sun Wukong learns that he's not the strongest anymore, but that he's step-son, MK, is. Macaque, after listening to the future, fears for his King and tries to better the relationship between MK and Wukong.

Fighting Beauty : Macaque is prince Sun Wukong personal guard, in charge of guarding him until his betrothed comes to rescue him from the sleeping spell casted upon him. Things get awkward when Macaque awakens Sun Wukong on his first night on duty. Sun Wukong, impatient as ever, decides to slay the dragon himself and not wait on his betrothed, Macaque is dragged in the quest despite himself.

Midnight Illusion : Macaque is at day the mistreated step-son of the Lady Bone Demon, and at night the leader of the most fearsome thieves of the Sun Kingdom. He's unfortunately caught by the royal guard in the middle of a thievery. He's given two choices by the Sun King himself : either spend the rest of his life in prison, or spy on his own step-mother while also pretending to be the Sun King betrothed. Naturally, he chose the second option.

The Mage and the Monkey : Sun Wukong is cursed by the wandering mage, Macaque, after refusing to give him shelter on a stormy night. He's now the Monkey King, and he'll stay in this beastly form as long as he cannot find true love, according to the Mage, at least. But Sun Wukong is not one to stay idle, he finds the Mage huts after a lot of searching, and bugs him everyday to undo the curse. Macaque is tempted to accept, only because Sun Wukong is getting annoying.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten / rough ideas really

Vibe : Humor and fluff and angst

Narcissist :

Summary : Sun Wukong was lonely. He felt like there was a wedge between him and the world, that no-one could ever understand him. Even his successor couldn't hope to breach his shell. Pushed by his loneliness, Wukong stole a forbidden book from the gods with the vilest spells written in it and bring his shadow to life.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten / very rough idea

Vibe : angst, fluff and horror (Mac being an eldritch horror)

I'll add Au's to this guide if I have any more that I think of, but that's all for now.

#shadowpeach #Au Guide #six eared macaque #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid sun wukong #Sun wukong #lmk #shadowpeach fanfic #jttw

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semisolidmind · 9 months ago

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Just out of curiosity, would or has angel ever brought it up? The inevitability of them dying that is. I feel like its easy to guess that they’d try and set some sort of plan for the toys survival even when they’re long gone.

And idk i find that bitterly sweet. And maybe slightly morbid. That even after death they’d still worry over their little family. And to be honest I’d say it’s reasonable to think that Angel would be worried over that possibility too.

Gosh that’s a whole other form of love that gets me sad ToT the fact a person cares that much for you that they’re worried and want to do something at least to make their loved ones lives easier even when they’re gone.

Anyhow that’s gonna be one awkward talk. But probably one out of genuine fear and worry.

yeah, it's kinda sad to think about, but the toys know deep down that y/n isn't going to live forever. they really don't want to think about it.

but y/n does have a plan, or at least something like it. maybe they set up their will so that poppy, being the only one with a "human" name, is the inheritor of the house and land. or maybe y/n makes a deal to give protected nature reserve/historical buliding status to their property (cause the house is over 100 years old or something). idk, some way of ensuring the toys get to keep their home without being bothered.

i think y/n would leave a booklet of written instructions on how to operate certain house systems; how to fix the electricity, how to fix and operate the generator, how to fix plumbing, how to store food in the cellar, how to prepare food (a few cookbooks), and who to call for emergency food delivery. maybe y/n would become friends with the folks at the nearest grocery store and set up a plan for them to deliver food to the house, and to receive payment in an envelope while y/n isn't there.

they toys will have to learn to live without them, but their angel won't leave them without a little help.

#ooof ouughhggf i dont wanna think about yn dying anymore

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fernandopiastri28 · 7 months ago

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little bit in love with you ~ landoscar

"Oscar is just stringing you along for his own entertainment,”Lando’s lips tighten into a straight line, the muscles in his cheeks rippling as he sucks them in to chew on the insides. “It’s not for entertainment. Oscar’s quiet, blushy and stupidly inexperienced. He-,” He wants to go on about all the distinctively ‘obvious’ signs that Oscar does genuinely like him in that way. He could go on and on about the younger boy’s huge brown eyes, the ones that show just about every bit of vulnerability possible. It’s not that Oscar doesn’t like him at all, he just didn’t seem to know how to express it.Yet, the way Max’ face twitches as he keeps going is enough to shut him up.

warnings- drinking | wc: 7,920

“You know Oscar likes Logan, right?” Max’s arm drapes across Lando’s back, his hand idly rubbing against the thin material of his sport shirt. It’s a Monday night and they both have flights to the next grand prix at around midday tomorrow. But right now, work and racing was the least of their concerns. It’s been a shit weekend for them both, which means retreating to one of their rooms, (usually Max’s since Checo usually clears out to spend time with Carola and the kids instead of at the hotel), and playing video games until their eyes burn with exhaust.

Lando does know that, the mere thought of it never fails to make his stomach twist up in discomfort, because he knows it is true, he just wishes it wasn’t. “Yeah, thanks Max,” He rolls his eyes, brushing the comment off like it doesn’t hurt him. Max’ a sensitive person, garnering a surprising talent for gauging emotions and how to be cautious to not hurt someone. Seemingly that has gone out of the window for the night.

Max gives him a weak shrug in reply, near ignorant. “ Lando , you know why I’m telling you that,”

He does, he just doesn’t want to hear it.

“Yeah, you could be less blunt about it though,” Lando’s shameful about how sensitive and ‘babyish’ he was, it being one of the more embarrassing parts of himself. He’ll always try to put on a ‘tough’ face to the media, pretending that he’s completely unaffected by absolutely anything. Yet, he never even tried to ‘be strong’ around Max- having cried too many times to the dutch man to even attempt to.

Another shrug, even less emotion or empathy in this one. “It’ll take a miracle for you to accept that the way you feel for Oscar is unreciprocated. I’m trying to get it through your thick skull before you get any more hurt then you already are,”

Ouch.

Usually Max is the nicer of the two, even possibly just the nicest guy in general. Get a few drops of alcohol into his system though and he’s painfully honest, mean when it comes to Lando and his infinity for his younger teammate.

The corners of Lando’s lips unstick after forming together by pressing them together so tight. “But-��

“No buts, I’m sick and tired of hearing about Oscar all the time. Oscar did this, Oscar did that , how about you think about me for once?” His eyes are beady as they bore holes into Lando’s skin, his glare searing.

“ You like Charles, I have to put up with hearing about him,” He tries to rebut it, yet the point is mute. The way Max spoke about his supposed rival was not at all comparable to how Lando speaks about his younger teammate. It’s occasional, more expressed through the way that Max seems to laugh impossibly hard around him. He has a permanent smile tattooed onto his mouth each time he hangs out with Charles. He rarely talks about it, cause he really doesn’t need to. He shows his love.

Max pulls a face at him, the arm that’s haphazardly on Lando tensing up. “That’s not a fair comparison and you know it, Norris,” Norris, not Lando. He’s upset. He’d never used Norris, even back in Lando’s initial first days in formula 1 together when they were ‘pitted against each other’ to be rivals.

Well, Max was set up against anyone to be fair.

Not when Drive to Survive set them up to be enemies. Not even when Max left him for ferrari. There simply never was any bad blood. “Why not?” His tongue feels heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t want to fight, he really can’t be bothered to do so. He’d rather just be able to lay around with his best friend, sipping at cheap beers while they bitch and moan about formula 1.

However, Lando has found himself to be more argumentative each year he’d remained in the rotting hell-hole team community of McLaren, so Max was likely expecting this.

He runs the hand that was previously on Lando’s shoulder through his blond mess of hair, not bothering to return it back to its original spot on Lando when he’s done. “I don’t know,” He sighs around his beer bottle, the lip of the glass against his bottom one. “It just is, Lando. Because Charles and I could never be together, he loves Alex- a woman. Oscar is just stringing you along for his own entertainment,”

Lando’s lips tighten into a straight line, the muscles in his cheeks rippling as he sucks them in to chew on the insides. “It’s not for entertainment. Oscar’s quiet, blushy and stupidly inexperienced. He-,” He wants to go on about all the distinctively ‘obvious’ signs that Oscar does genuinely like him in that way. He could go on and on about the younger boy’s huge brown eyes, the ones that show just about every bit of vulnerability possible. It’s not that Oscar doesn’t like him at all, he just didn’t seem to know how to express it.

Yet, the way Max’ face twitches as he keeps going is enough to shut him up.

“Yeah, got it man. Your love life is a whole of a lot more successful than mine.” Seriously bitter and not trying remotely to hide it. He grits his teeth regardless, giving up on any more snarky comments for now.

Max's hand returns to Lando. This time, the tips of his fingers glided under his shirt to run along the tan skin over his back. “Not really. Charles isn’t mine, Oscar isn’t yours,” His words are thick like syrup, his Dutch accent adding a warm tinge Lando’s British one couldn’t replicate.

Lando’s cheeks turn an ugly shade of red, the one that’s usually only just visible through his visor when his face is shoved awkwardly under thick foam padding. The way his face crumples is similar to how his helmet forces the fat of his face to squish up. At least when he’s got the helmet on he looks like his grinning irritatingly wide, no matter his mood. Right now, Max can see through Lando, he sees every single thought and emotion that's passing through his mind.

“Lando,” Max’s wiry fingers snake up to the short tufts of hair that decorate the width of the back of the Brit’s neck. Lando hates how it makes him feel, as if he can almost imagine Oscar doing it. He can almost feel Oscar’s hand on him, his breath on his skin. Their knees bumping, their thighs rubbing together.

“I’m happy for Logan,” His tongue rolls over the words awkwardly. He doesn’t mean them. “Even if he’s not actually gay- must be validating for your best friend to have a crush on you,” Logan deserves the podiums in f1, the good car, the wins, the fucking respect. Lando doesn’t care for those things anymore. He just deserves a teammate who wants him back.

Logan could take his damn seat at McLaren if it meant Oscar could finally be his. Maybe Lando could cope being seatless, maybe he could go to indycar. Oscar would be worth all of the sacrifices he would make.

“You’re not,” He scoffs, sinking back further into the squishy cushions of the couch. Lando wants it to swallow him up whole, to not be in this situation right now. More so, he wants to bury his face into either Oscar’s chest or his lap, yet somehow the first option of being consumed by a Lando-eating couch seems more likely.

“I’m not,” There’s no point in disagreeing. They both know how he actually feels about this. “It’s not fair. It should just be easy, Oscar’s.. He’s gay, right?” The side of his forehead rubs against Max’ shoulder, finding a comfortable place to just rest the day off. “He’s gay and I’m a boy, a boy who loves him. Why can’t it just make sense? Why aren’t we just together already? It should just be easy.”

The noise Max makes is somewhat sympathetic, a mewl almost. “When has love ever been easy?” The hum of the aircon blaring in the room turns Lando’s mind fuzzy, his thoughts dissolving into mush as his eyes blankly stare at the flickering lamp bulb.

He’d rather not think about that.

“Hey,” Lando’s elbow nudges into the soft flesh of Oscar’s stomach, his bare skin gliding against the jersey material of the Aussie’s outfit. It’s an ugly outfit, objectively. A maroon t-shirt, the same one he’d worn to that team dinner sometime at the end of the previous season, a Miami Heat red singlet on top of it.

Pants wise, he has on a pair of beige cargo shorts, short enough to ride up on his muscular thighs. The hair on his legs is so light, practically blonde. Lando’s jealous- of the legs definition, not the hair colour. He really likes Oscar’s thick thighs, despite how almost gross it felt to admit that to himself.

He’s perfectly fine with putting his romantic feelings towards his teammate into words, yet anything mentioning his physical and admittedly, sexual, feelings- yeah, definitely a challenge.

“Hey,” The tops of Oscar’s cheeks are dyed permanently red from the Miami heat, his hair looking lighter underneath the beaming sun. It almost looks a golden brown colour, instead of its usual mousy brown. He looks like he’s blushing, the way he did at any sight of Lando.

“Whatchu been up to these past few days?” He sounds beyond stupid saying it, whatchu. Couldn’t he have just been normal and seemed somewhat competent and stuck with What have you?. He’s so cautious about that- seeming dumb in front of Oscar.

If he could really say what he wanted, he'd be spilling out every single way to say I love you possible, so he just grits his teeth and settles for being cringey.

If Oscar is any bit cringed out by it, he doesn’t show it. “Ehh, nothing much I guess,” His eyes flicker over to the small band aid that covered the cut on the bridge of Lando’s nose. He looks as if he’s about to make a comment on it, ask how Lando was so stupid to fuck up his face just before possibly the biggest media grand prix. Instead, his eyes turn back to the path ahead of him. “Yeah, just been hanging out with Logan a bit. Amping up the celebrations for his home grand prix,”

Great. Fucking Logan has to be brought up.

“Oh yeah?” His faux interest sounds like a near mock. Jealousy seeps thick into his tone, hatred forging towards the American for simply existing. For simply being the one that Oscar loves. Luckily, and somehow miraculously, Oscar doesn’t pick up on the off-tone. Lando grinds his teeth, willing himself to shut up and not spew into anti Logan conversation.

“Yeah,” The younger boy smiles slightly, the wrinkles that appear at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” An attempted mimic of Lando’s accent, more hitting a very posh George or Lewis one instead of Lando’s bristol accent. “He.. he’s not quite himself anymore, I guess,” The back of his hand rubs against his nose, trying to force away an itch that’s formed itself over a pimple.

He was going to make an idiotic comment directed towards Oscar about how abhorrent his attempt at an English accent was until he got all serious about Logan. Now, it seems insensitive and ignorant to not even pretend he cared about the blond man who’s taking away the love of his life without even realising.

Mustering up any bit of caring, pulling from the part of him that believes ‘ if I show I care about his best friend's misfortunes, maybe he’ll like me as he’ll see that I am so very kind and caring,’, he pitches his voice in a way that gives it some sense of interest. “Oh shit, how so?”

Yeah. Believable enough.

Oscar cards a hand through his mess of a middle part. “He’s not the same Logan I’ve known since I was 14. He- he’s clearly affected by not being able to score points, having a shit car, the sheer amount of hate he receives online,” A weird noise comes straight up from his throat, as if he’s attempted to hack away at something. “I’m really worried about him. He doesn’t really have anyone besides me- doesn’t think anyone likes him,”

Well shit, now he does feel bad for him.

“Alex likes him,” He adds annoyingly- why he didn’t say himself is just idiotic. Yeah, it would’ve been a lie, he still really doesn’t like Logan, but pointing that out to Oscar is possibly one of his shockingly dumbest moments.

Oscar’s eyebrows shoot up a bit, his usually half lidded eyes opening up into stupidly big doe eyes. He looks really fucking cute, and Lando curses him for looking so soft when the topic of conversation is on Logan. “You know Alex better than I do,” Lando isn’t quite sure where Oscar was going with that. “Does he actually like him, or is it just as teammates?”

Lando becomes aware that they’re awfully close to the media pen now, which means their conversation is going to be coming to a forced halt pretty much immediately. “Yeah, he actually likes him. Not just a forced proximity thing, you know?” He assures him, watching with a growing smile and sense of pride when Oscar seems to relax, the light in his eyes brightening.

“Yeah, yeah. Good,” He sighs, taking a black pen that’s shoved against him into his hand, scribbling his signature onto a teenage girl’s hat.

Lando does the same for a shirt that belongs to a boy who looks no older than nine. When he turns back to Oscar, his lips twist into a tantalising grin, “Yeah, yeah. Good,” He mocks him in return for Oscar doing so earlier.

“Awful accent Lando. You needa spend some more time with Danny Ric to work on it,” A huff paired with an eye roll. Successful, he found it funny.

“Or I could spend more time with you,” Hopeful, hopeful. Please come across well.

“You could, indeed,”

Double success.

“I fucking hate Miami,” Oscar isn’t usually so pessimistic, but after a three consecutive hardly mediocre free practices, followed by a mid-field qualifying, and only 2 points on sunday, he’s down in the dumps.

The two of them are sitting in the McLaren motorhome, Lando having just narrowly missed out on another podium in fourth. It’s another boring top three- Max, Lewis, Checo. Nothing to write home about, or even really celebrate. So they’re on the couch, Oscar’s legs kicking up onto the table and Lando’s just next to Oscar’s hips with his bent knees pointing up to the ceiling.

Both of them have their race suits dangling off their hips. The Aussie’s hair is drenched, having had a bottle of water poured over his head by Logan after he’d gotten P11. He was ecstatic, so close to points- or point, singular. He was off celebrating with his family, which Lando thought was simply idiotic. He hadn’t even scored a point, what was he celebrating for?

Lando looks up from where he was engrossed in scrolling through twitter and saving some videos he knew he’d likely find himself watching as he tried to ‘sleep’ tonight. “Yeah, same,” He purses his lips, switching his phone off and tossing it forward. He was aiming for it to land at the edge of his feet, in the space between where his toes ended and the right side of Oscar’s hip was, but his horrific aim makes an appearance as it lands right into the Aussie’s lap.

Oscar picks the phone up gingerly, acting as if it was infected. Lando’s horrified to see that when the screen was in his view, that he actually hadn’t managed to turn it off. That damn Quad Lock case he’d taken from Oscar made it near impossible to click the off button. “Shit, fuck, stop,” Lando tries desperately to yank the phone back as Oscar straightens his arm away, looking at what Lando’s had been searching.

His expression is difficult to read at first. It seems a mix of curiosity with disgust, likely as his teammate had been openly scrolling through porn right next to him. Then, his face shifts into something cloudy and indescribable- like a switch had been flicked in his brain. He finally has something above Lando. Lando who has tantalised him over the course of the past two seasons, teasing him about his lack of a sense of humour, mocking him publicly, making him seem like some stupid.. Fucking bottom.

“What’s this Lando?” He taunts, his free hand pushing Lando off him to give him a better, uninterrupted look at the phone. “Oh, you freak” His voice has never sounded so malicious. It’s delicious, seeing the vulnerable bits of Lando that have always been locked away.

“Fucking stop it , Oscar,” He growls, his hands clawing at the scratchy fireproof fabric stretching across his teammates back. “It’s not funny,” His face feels impossibly hot. If Oscar was to ever see what was in his search history, he’d be praying infinitely that the Lando-eating couch would actually become a real thing.,

“Oooh,” Voice colder than ice. “Teammate sex,” Fuck, fuck, fuck. This isn’t real, it’s just a horrible nightmare that he would wake up from in a full body sweat. “You dirty dog,” Lando’s face crumples, he was going to cry- he was sure of that. “What kind of dubious activities do you get up to with Max? Or is it Daniel?”

Oscar’s taunts finally came to a halt when the scratches against his back stopped. The yelling stopped. Lando stopped. “Just give it back Oscar,” Lando’s voice wavers, his hand reaching out under the arm the phone was in.

He’s not laughing anymore, both of them just blankly looking at each other. Oscar’s mouth seems to take over from his mind, working on auto pilot in a sense. “Are you gay?” His teeth feel heavy, if that’s possible. The sensation could better be described as unfamiliar, like they’ve been crammed into his mouth. The question is hard to ask, and he’s not sure if it was a complete invasion of privacy for him to do so.

Lando’s fingers curl back up to make a weak fist, giving up on the attempt to snatch his phone back. “What do you think?” Harsh and jarring, an attack on Oscar’s lack of cognitive thinking skills and problem solving abilities. “You can see my search history. How to come out as gay is quite literally right under what you read out,” He can’t bring himself to repeat the phrase he’d searched up while watching water stream down Oscar’s face during Logan’s celebration. It’s shameful, and awful.

All of this is awful. He wishes he could’ve come out to Oscar in just about any other way.

Oscar’s chest heaves with great effort, a blank flicker burning behind his brown eyes. “But like- all the girls?” He murmurs, his eyebrows pinching together as his eyes dart around rapidly, the cogs in his mind churning quickly to process the information.

Lando sits back on his heels, his eyes unable to meet Oscar’s burning gaze. He seems surprised.. unaccepting. For a guy who’s in love with another guy, he seems unable to comprehend the concept of being gay. “I like both” He picks at the flaking skin around his nails. “I guess I’m more-”

“Bisexual?”

“Yeah, that.” He swallows dryly, wishing he still had his water bottle from earlier.

“Is it Carlos?” A pair of brown eyes mapping out the incredulous expression on Lando’s face, his brain hurting with all the news he’s taking in.

“Carlos?” How the hell Oscar has come to that conclusion is beyond him. “Why the hell would it be Carlos?” His fingers wrap around one of Oscar’s wrists, the tips of his fingers only just touching.

Oscar looks even more bewildered, a face of pure shock painting his features. He looks adorable, hazy eyes widened as far as possible, jaw slightly opened with his bunny teeth peeking into visibility. “Daniel!” He proclaims, his voice high and squeaky much like Lando’s had been in his first years in formula one. High and undeveloped from puberty.

“No- for god sakes, not fucking Ricciardo,” His hand meets Oscar’s shoulder, shoving him playfully. It’s not until he makes that move that he realises the compromising position they’ve somehow shifted into. Oscar’s on his back, long legs spread out across the pillow cushions. Hiis core muscles are being put to work as he holds himself into sitting at about a 45 degree angle to his legs. Lando in comparison is sitting straight up, one hand on Oscar’s tensed abdomen and the other on his own thigh, his knees bracketing around Oscar’s narrow waist.

His ass is planted straight onto Oscar’s thighs, and it’s not in the circumstance he hoped it would’ve happened under.

Oscar’s eyes are looking up at where Lando is looking down at him, their height levels reversed like this. The whites under his milky brown eyes are perfectly shown, making him look like a begging puppy. He is, in a sense, so desperate to know who Lando has a crush on. For a guy who gets the title of being one of the smartest drivers on the grid- he’s fucking oblivious to something that is quite literally being shoved under his nose.

So as confidence builds deep in Lando’s belly, the want to confess everything he’s ever felt towards his junior teammate miraculously grows further. The desire to pour out all of his love until he’s just a puddle of goop resting at Oscar’s feet, nothing without his lovesick thoughts and late night desperations. He’s putty in Oscar’s hands.

Yet, he can’t confess anything.

It’s difficult to tell why he’s simply unable to do it. Whether it’s his mouth that won’t be pried open by anything, his voicebox’s inability to make any noise that’s more than a strangled squeak, or because his throat feels so tight that an attempt of trying to do anything besides breathing would cause him to pass out from effort.

“Is it just a kink then?” Lando’s getting off him just as he’s finishing asking. He needs some fresh air, and some space- especially from a question like that.

“Ew, Oscar,” His nose wrinkles as his feet hit the floor, his knees locking to draw a halt to the shaking that gives caution that he may go tumbling to the floor at any moment. Just like how Oscar had been struggling so hard to process Lando coming out, Lando was struggling to believe he’d actually admitted it. “Don’t ask people that, it’s really weird,”

The Australian's lips purse, twisting around words that aren’t translating into audible sound. “Right.” He gets out finally, a huff. Not ignorant like Carlos’ or Max’s, but genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry. That was crossing a boundary,”

Lando immediately feels bad. He feels like he’s pushed Oscar too far, been too mean today. It wasn’t just the events currently going on, but also earlier side comments to Carlos about Logan’s obnoxious celebrations over fuck all, and borderline calling Oscar’s outfit ugly during a media call after lunch time.

He feels really, really bad now.

The sensation of being about to throw up only intensifies as he thinks about how awful he actually is to Oscar. No wonder he likes Logan. Logan is fun and bubbly. Lando is a whiny pessimistic brat who rarely has anything positive to say about anyone. “I guess it is,” His heart rate spikes at the confession, because in what fucking universe was he telling his teammate that he got off on watching teammates have sex.

Lord, it all seems like a very distressing fever dream.

A lock of the younger boy's chocolatey swooped hair falls over his forehead and covers one of his eyebrows. “Huh? You guess what is?” He’s also getting up off the couch at this point, tugging at the hem of his fireproof to cover the patch of skin it has rode up to show.

Lando forces his eyes away from looking.

“It’s a kink,” His cheeks are painted far rosier than he’s ever even seen Oscar’s go. “I don’t know where it came from, came up on my twitter one day and I thought it was hot,” His thumbnail slides in between his front bottom teeth, awkwardly chewing on it to avoid talking any bit more than he needs to.

“Ah,” Oscar’s amused by the answer to some extent, “Well, I guess two fit and sweaty guys fucking about does seem about as good as gay porn can get.” He shrugs it off casually. Once again, how did Lando drag them both into this conversation?

They both look at eachother with thin lips holding back howls of laughter. “You’ve certainly got it Piastri. You are quite the porn expert,” He squeezes the soft meat over Oscar’s hip, watching a clear shivered jolt hit the other boy from the tease.

And that perfect Piastri blush.

(Oscar's Pov)

“Oscar!” Pounding on his door fills the room. He has to forcefully pull himself off his couch, tightening the strings of his sweatpants waistband so they don’t slip off his hips the second he opens the door.

His mouth is filled with the bitter post nap taste that he’s forcibly creating saliva to get rid of. He’d nearly immediately passed out on his hotel couch after he’d gotten home post the Lando-Porn-Coming out conversation. He still feels fried, even hours later. Maybe having a nap in the later afternoon was a poor decision because he now isn't going to be able to get to sleep tonight.

Sure, Lando coming out as gay wasn’t the absolute wildest thing he’d ever heard. He knew a fair few drivers on the grid were- himself included. It was more his search history, which he could’ve sworn he saw his own name in, and the whole.. Yeah, teammate kink thing.

“Hello?” His voice comes out as bleary and croaky, likely from breathing through his mouth instead of his nose. “Lando?” He has to clear his voice first, getting all the gross phlegm out. “Is there any reason you are at my door?” His hip makes contact with the doorframe as he rests against it, his eyebrows pulling together to study his teammate.

Lando’s wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a satin navy button up, his full chest visible from how many buttons are undone. Dampened curls spilling across his forehead and a tight backwards cap smushed over them. He looks ready to hit the town for a night out, vastly different then what he’d conveyed his plans for his evening back in the motor home. As far as Oscar was concerned, Lando was going to be spending the night under the covers with his phone and hand.

“Didn’t you hear the news?” Thanks, that’s rather vague. He pushes past Oscar to let himself into the room. He seems more normal compared to how he’d left the motorhome earlier, not all... weird, like curdled milk or moulded bread.

Oscar’s hungry, not for spoiled foods, but, yeah.

“Yeah, nah,” He shakes his head, instantaneously having Lando’s phone thrusted into his hand. He has to squint to see the glaring phone screen in comparison to the dimly lit living room. Eyes strained with effort, he skims over the article. By the end of it, he almost drops the phone.

Holy shit . ‘Due to track records…’ The article read , ‘Lewis Hamilton (2nd place), Sergio Perez (3rd place), Nico Hulkenberg (8th place), and Esteban Ocon (6th place) lap times have been deleted,' His eyes widen, a knot forming and twisting painfully in his stomach. “The new results are as follows; 1st. Max Verstappen- Red Bull (Remain), 2nd. Lando Norris- McLaren (4th originally),” Oscar looks up at his gleeful teammate who’s just secured yet another podium to his name.

‘3rd. Charles Leclerc- Ferrari (Previously 5th), 4th. Fernando Alonso- Aston Martin (Previously 7th), 5th. Oscar Piastri- McLaren (Previously 9th),” A far more satisfactory result of 10 points over 2. ‘ 6th. Carlos Sainz- Ferrari (Previously 10th)’ He fights the urge to roll his eyes. He genuinely couldn’t even attempt to like Carlos if he tried. And then he sees it- ‘ Logan Sargeant- Williams (Previously 11th)’

(Lando’s Pov)

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” Oscar begins to celebrate his best friend, pride bursting out the seams. Finally, a chance for Logan to show off the talent that he hasn’t been able to flaunt yet in f1. Lando cringes out from the celebration, not because he thinks Oscar is being weird as he jumps around the place- it’s actually quite endearing. It’s more that it’s all about Logan scoring a point, not because he received another podium.

He forces a smile, taking his phone back from Oscar as the younger boy begins to calm down. “God, does Logan know?” He’s cheesing out so hard, and Lando can’t help but wish that energy and pride was directed towards himself. “Fuck, watch this race help him secure a 2025 seat- what a rush,” He sighs, his hand on his chest to slow his breathing down.

Lando’s teeth grit, it’s a bad habit of his ass of recent. Gritting his teeth helps him to not make any stupid comments to the Australian that could ruin his attempts of ‘wooing’ him. Aussie grit, hahaha, maybe their ‘ship’ name could be Mark’s nickname.

Or maybe that’s really weird and Lando should keep gritting his teeth so he doesn’t tell Oscar that he just thought that.

He cocks his head to the side, his shoulders going up to meet them in a careless shrug. “Uh, don’t know. Maybe us four could go out to celebrate tonight,” He suggests, having both of the Williams drivers in mind. That way Alex could hopefully distract Logan so Lando could genuinely just talk to Oscar for a bit. Or just separate the two newbies so Oscar didn’t have to watch Oscar practically drool over the American all night.

“The four of us?” His voice is slightly hoarse from his celebration. “What, are you gonna invite Carlos?” It’s said in a hushed tone, as if it’s a scandal for Carlos to be mentioned. It takes a few seconds for it to click why that is.

It’s because Oscar is still convinced that Lando is in love with Carlos.

“Osc, for crying out loud. I do not have feelings for Carlos,” It gets a laugh out of Oscar, so he’s willing to put up with the CarLando allegations just to make Oscar smile.

“Good,” He grabs a jacket off the back of his couch, a McLaren one from their partnership with Reiss, and begins wriggling into it. “Cause I really dislike Carlos. He’s just.. you know how I feel about him,” A short breath passes his lips as he straightens the jacket out, before looking up at Lando expectantly. “So.. who’s the fourth person then?”

Lando gives Oscar an up and down, silently judging his outfit of a stained white shirt, grey joggers and a puffer over the top. He’d spent far too long getting ready once he’d heard the news from Jon, and he’d just had to pray Oscar was sleeping- a safe and true bet- so he could deliver the news straight to his teammate when he heard. “Uh, Albono,” Grit your teeth Lando, don’t say anything.

“Ah, the padel group,” Oscar cheers gleefully and shoves his hands into his pocket as a go ahead for Lando to begin walking towards the door.

“Oh Oscar,” He hums, shaking his head. “Please, let me pick out a better outfit for you,” Half expecting a reaction of partial offence, he’s surprised when Oscar’s willingly guiding him into his bedroom to where he has piles of clothes scattered across the floor.

“Sorry, please ignore the mess.” Ever so polite, yet so messy that it’s genuinely difficult to try and ignore it. He wants to make a comment of ‘ how can you live like this Piastri?’ But no, he needs to work on being nicer. Grit Lando, Grit.

“Yeah, all good,” It’s said within a drawn out sigh as he begins sifting through the few articles of clothing that Oscar has managed to hang up. “This is nice, where'd you get it from?” He holds up a hanger that’s holding a white button up, dark blue embroidery down the sides.

He looks over his shoulder to where Oscar is standing cross armed, his jacket long discarded and his arms looking huge with the way he’s almost flexing. “Uh, Logan gave it to me,” He murmurs, meeting Lando’s eyes with a look of acceptance to where it is. “Or.. actually, I think it was Robert,”

“Robert?”

“Shwartzman. He was my teammate at Prema,”

Ah, yes. He was often reminded of the fact that he and Oscar had such different previous few years. Oscar was in prema from 2020 until 2021, and Lando left in 2018. Oscar had all of his own F2 and F3 friends, while F1 was all Lando has known for years. “Right,” He bundles the shirt up, tossing it behind himself to where Oscar catches it and begins getting dressed right there. “Pants time,”

“I can’t wear joggers?”

“Of course you can’t wear joggers with a button up Osc,” In saying that, he reckons Oscar is probably the only person in the world who could actually pull that look off.

“Fine,” Lando extracts a pair of black jeans much like his own and gives them to Oscar, actually turning around to face him when he does. The shirt is definitely a good choice. Tight around Oscar’s narrow waist, big arms, and wide chest. He stares blankly at a spot on the wall as Oscar changes from his sweatpants to the jeans, struggling to pull them up at the very end. “How do I look?”

“Yeah, good, good,” There’s a definite waver in his voice, but it’s nothing compared to how fast his heart and mind are pounding at the very moment. “Really good, handsome,” He smirks, getting a violent blush out of Oscar. He looks fantastic, and Lando already knows he’s gonna have a hard time keeping his eyes off the Aussie for the night.

Two facts dawn on Lando within the first hour at the club. Firstly, he’s never seen his teammate drunk, or even relatively intoxicated. Secondly, Oscar is extra funny when he’s drunk- which he gets rather easily. Currently, he’s sitting on the shoulders of some singer that Alex had informed Lando was called Jackson Wang.

Connection between the two? None. Apparently he was the DJ, but clearly he’s preoccupied away from the table.

“Landooooo,” Oscar calls out, one hand in Jackson’s hair while his other one is wrapped around a plastic cup of pure vodka, condensation staining into his pants. The vodka is not the cheap kind, it’s probably far out of any range of alcohol Oscar’s ever had before for a guy who grew up in Melbourne with goon bags at parties. “Hey Lans,” He grins as Lando looks up at him, his green eyes covered by a pair of purple shutter shades that had been shoved onto his face.

“Hey Osc,” He smiles, feeling far too sober right now. It’s nice though, he’s enjoying seeing Oscar so peppy and high spirited. “Whatcha got in your glass,” Ew, not whatcha again. Oscar ducks his head, mumbling something into Jackson’s ear which gets him to bend his legs enough for Oscar to get back onto the ground. A quick embrace shared between the two before Jackson gets back to work actually being a DJ.

“Vodka, the expensive type.” He whistles, guzzling the last of his glass as he steps into Lando’s space, one of his feet between the brit’s. His breath is hot, his voice thick and sickly. “I feel really good Lando,” He whispers, nuzzling his neck into the crook of his elder teammate’s neck.

And as much as he wants to enjoy and savour the moment, he’s worried. “I’m glad Osc,” He slides his arm around the younger’s waist, helping to support him as his other hand brings his scotch to his lips. He’s not sure where he acquired the drink from, especially it not being his drink of choice, but he’s not going to complain about free alcohol. “Shouldn’t you be with Logan?”

He’s leaning on Lando, flipping their height difference around to be smaller than his older teammate. Oscar’s eyes gleam in the dark lighting of the club, the sclera of his eyes more visible then any bit of his pupils. “He’s with.. some girls I think,” He scratches the long strands of his hair that he’s been allowing to grow out. “So, yeah. He doesn’t have time for me,”

Lando feels awful for him. Because not only is Oscar being forced to watch the guy he likes be surrounded and shower people that aren’t himself with attention, it’s all just girls. Logan isn’t gay, and Oscar has to have that shoved down his throat. “I’m sorry about him, Osc. You don’t deserve that.”

Confusion spreads across his soft features, “Why?” His hands rub harshly at his eyes, pushing away his exhaustion to try and keep partying. “I’m happy for him? This is exactly what he needs- some validation that he’s wanted.” He pushes himself up to standing properly, his back hunched over due to the poor posture that he always has. “What don’t I deserve?”

Now Lando is confused. “Because you like Logan,”

“Obviously I like Logan- he’s my best mate,” Obviously, so snappy and completely unlike Oscar.

“No, you like Logan,”

Oscar’s eyes close into a squint of complete disbelief. “I what Logan?” Fucking hell, Drunk Oscar is annoying. “Who is going around telling you that?”

“Max,”

“Why on earth would Max know who I like?” His tone is harsh, the previous bubbliness he had from the alcohol wearing off to reveal a bitchy and irritated Oscar.

“Uh, Charles?” Lando’s voice on the other hand is squeaky and unsure. He does know one thing for sure, he needs another drink. And actually, he needs these shutter shades off, he’s probably pretty difficult to take seriously with glittery glasses on his face. “He- He told me because he found out that I like you,” It feels shameful to say it, like it’s a secret he promised to never repeat.

Lando hooks a finger into the bridge of the glasses, pulling them down just enough to catch the way Oscar’s face softens, a small smile on his lips. He looks flattered, not disgusted like how Lando had almost forced himself to believe he would react.

The moment is peaceful and perfect, until Oscar takes in the previous point about Charles being the leak, and his face twists up like he’s just eaten a lemon. “I’m gonna assume Charles heard from Carlos who ‘heard’ from Daniel, huh?” He winced, looking very displeased. Lando simply shrugged in response, not sure how he was supposed to react. “Daniel knows who I actually like and I reckon he slipped up to Carlos, who twisted it into Logan.”

What the fuck. Oscar doesn’t actually like Logan?

“Who is it then?” Lando’s body aches as jolts of nerves shoot up his spine. He’s asking, but he really doesn’t actually want to know the answer. He’s had to get used to the idea that it might be Logan, so despite his distaste for the American, he’s forced himself to understand that Logan and Oscar’s friendship has spanned over almost a decade, and there has been so much of the younger’s life that Logan was there for, that Lando wasn’t.

But now he’ll have to deal with Oscar liking another person who isn’t him, directly after he confessed his feelings for the Australian. Fuck his actual life, he knew it was too good to be true of a reaction.

“Lando Norris, you are very possibly the dumbest person I’ve ever met,” He sighs, pulling him over into a corner of the club. “You seriously don’t know?” He grins, his bunny teeth hooked over his bottom lip as he looks down at Lando. Lando stares blankly at where one of Oscar’s shirt buttons have come undone, unable to look him in the eye when he tells him who it is. “I thought I’d been pretty oblivious that it’s you,”

No fucking way. Fuck off Oscar, that’s not fucking funny mate. His lips are locked shut, his jaw hanging lax but his mouth sealed close. Speak Lando, say fucking anything. You’re not even intentionally holding back, your teeth aren’t touching for God's sakes!

“No you don’t” A barking laugh emits from the Australian who shakes Lando by the shoulders. “No, no you don’t like me Oscar,” It’s a dream that’s too good to be true. In no universes does Oscar Piastri ever like Lando Norris back- and especially not this one.

“Not sure you get to make that call,”

“You don’t,”

“Ah, but I do Lan,”

“I like that,”

“Lan, Lan, Lan,” He chants, his voice echoing in Lando’s head in a dreamlike, wistful tone. “Lan, I really like you. Not Logan, not Liam, not Guanyu. I like you,” His smile is huge, almost too big to seem sincere.

It’s too good to be true.

“If this is a joke, I’d rather you just stop now. You’re painfully unfunny with this,” He pulls away, turning to where he sees George’s lanky figure pumping a fist into the air while dancing. He has a drink in his hand, one that Lando desperately needs another of so he can forget about this.

Except, he can’t move. The sturdy grip of an arm around his waist keeps him in place, unmoving and trapped. “I’m offended you’d think I’d lie about that, Lan,” Oscar’s voice is shaking with nerves, his heart pounding against Lando’s back. “Because I really fucking like you, so stop calling me a liar.”

Looking over his shoulder, he sees all he’s ever wanted right in front of his eyes, this moment, this is better than he could predict a first win could be. He’s got it, he’s got Oscar. He just.. Fuck, he needs his mouth to work again. “I like you,”

“I’m fond of myself too, thank you Mr Norris,”

Lando fights off the intense urge to push Oscar away and roll his eyes. The moment is too good anyways, he doesn’t mind how annoying Oscar is. “Shut up and kiss me,”

It’s even better than every podium and every F2 win combined. Oscar’s mouth is warm and wet, inviting, his lips moulding against Lando’s to fit them into place. Oscar’s small hands reach up to grip onto the sweaty curls on the back of the Brit's head, forcing him closer to taste him better. Their noses nudge against each other, their tongues fighting for dominance just like on track.

“You- fuck- you’re such a good kisser,” Lando licks along Oscar’s bottom lip, panting for a break to enjoy and relish the moment. His head is spinning violently, and the kiss is to blame far more than the alcohol. “Just wanna,” He pants, grabbing Oscar’s face in between his hands and shoving his lips against the younger boy’s.

“Fuck Lan, that hurts,” He laughs, pushing him backward into another guy’s back, his own hand on his stomach. “You’re so aggressive,” The grin he has on is contagious, and Lando knows it’s the only smile he wants to see for the rest of his life.

Oscar is the only person he ever wants to make laugh again.

Lando shrugs, attaching his mouth back onto Oscar’s sweaty neck, and fuck, it’s the best decision he’s ever made. The Australian’s neck is so thick and biteable, which is never a thought Lando has ever had about someone’s body part, but it’s all he wants to do right now- litter the pale skin with purple and red hickeys. “Yes, please, that feels so good, Lan,” His mouth moves at a million miles to spew out praises for his teammate, urging him to keep going.

Lando doesn’t need to be encouraged, he’ll willingly do this til the end of time.

“Ha-h-hotel,” Oscar spits out, grabbing Lando’s wrist and tugging him out of the club closely after him. “Wanna- wanna kiss you without everyone around us,” On the way out, he squeezes Logan’s waist as they pass by him. The blond is dancing with his arms around Alex, surprisingly, not around any girl. And in actuality, there aren’t any girls around him.

Oh, that’s why Oscar was so excited when Lando said that Alex likes Logan. He was also likely lying about Logan being with a bunch of girls because based on how comfortable they both look, they've been dancing together the whole night. Lando didn’t even know that it was that way for either the American or the Thai man.

He'll definitely need to talk about this with Alex.

Logan’s head whips around as he sees Lando basically attached to Oscar and his blue eyes widen, a grin of excitement on his face. “You fucking did it, Osc!” Oscar nods wildly, raising his eyebrows in congratulations to Logan in return.

The two will likely discuss more of both of their situations at another time, but right now, Lando shamelessly wants Oscar all to himself.

Time seems to be passing by too quickly for Lando to even comprehend each moment, as before he knows it, he’s in a taxi and his mouth is back on Oscar’s neck, clearly successful in his plan to leave as many hickeys as possible.

Looks like they’re gonna hurt like hell in the morning.

“Osc, Osc, Osc,” He pants, his teeth feeling strangely numb as they graze over the same patch of skin for what feels like the thousandth time. “Does Logan like Alex?” He’s met with the sloppy kiss of Oscar battling to get to his tongue again.

He’ll take that as a yes.

“Uh huh. It was never Lo and I, it was me wanting you, and Lo liking Alex.” He grumbles, upset when Lando pulls away for a breather. Clearly, Oscar has a kissing stamina that Lando simply can’t keep up with. “Lannn,” He whines, his hand meeting Lando’s cheeks to direct his mouth back to his own.

“Osc, you are more of a whiny brat than Carlos,” Oscar’s smile drops and his eyebrow raises. Lando laughs harder, pecking Oscar’s lips but being met with a twist of his head away and refusal of kisses. “Don’t be like that, Piastri,” The words all slur together, so it’s probably the weakest delivery of a threat possible.

“Don’t compare me to Carlos,” He warns, his eyes squinted to make him look ‘scarier’.

With a huff, he finally caves. If he and Oscar are gonna be like this, he’s gonna have to sort out a way for his best friend and hopefully his boyfriend to get on well. “Fine. You are more of a whiny brat then I am whenever I don’t get a podium,”

“Wow. I’ll stop complaining so much. I must be really irritating right now,”

With an eye roll, he finally gets Oscar to properly kiss him back. “I love you just a little bit, Osc,”

“Love you more, Lan,”

I'm actually so surprised I started writing this about a week ago with the intention of Lando winning the miami race in the book but then he actually won and decided i would write a separate story about that 🙃. Anyways congratulations to Lando for his first win. carlos and oscar need to stop beefing but it is a good plot point so! also, the original top 11 finishes in the book are as listed to make more sense; Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Sergio Perez, Lando Norris, Charles Leclerc, Esteban Ocon, Fernando Alonso, Nico Hulkenberg, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, Logan Sargeant.

#lando norris #oscar piastri #formula1 #f1 #formula one #mclaren #landoscar #twinkclaren #miami gp 2024 #oscando #logan sargeant #carlos sainz #max verstappen #alex albon

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kandlewick · 1 year ago

Text

i'll dry the villain's tears pt.2

you get reincarnated into a role that became the breaking point of the villain's story and you, be it an unwillingness to cause them harm or a desire to survive, must work hard to make sure they grow into a better (or at least safer) person.

all entries are meant to be read as platonic. all are meant to be taken place in the TWST universe accurate to the game.

It was a very strange feeling, being immortal. Within the blink of your eyes, decades had past and you still didn't know why you were brought to this desert world and why you were granted a second chance at life. Your memory is broken and fading, yesterdays felt like years and years felt like yesterdays. Very few things mattered enough anymore for you to remember. All you can piece together is the distant, far off memory of waking up from what felt like a long nap and falling into the arms of a man clothed in rags.

He's dead now. Has been for a long time.

But now, you serve his family - his descendants. The shackles that once bound you were broken off centuries ago but... Something was telling you to stay, to wait. You were needed here. You didn't know how long you would have to wait but nothing could pull you from your course. Nothing.

It wasn't until the birth of Kalim Al-Asim that you remembered. Everything came rushing back, flooding your mind's eyes with visions of blot and tears as the palace erupted into cheers and praises, everyone around you eager to celebrate the good news. The birth of this child would surely be a blessing to everyone around him.

Except..

for Jamil Viper.

You had to find him.

For the first few months, you practically tore up the palace, ignoring the cries and complaints of the servants and guests in your pursuits, claiming you mad behind their hidden mouths and jeering tongues.

"Why are they searching so hard for a servant boy?"

"Our blessed and loved Kalim Al-Asim has been born! Why wouldn't they want to shower him in their blessings?"

"Surely this dijinn has gone mad with age!"

You ignored the servants and their trite giggling over meaningless chores. Your cause was greater then their own.

It wasn't until several months later that you found him. In the arms of his mother and father, you found the child that would curse the name of his brother in near everything but blood and nearly wept in pity. You clutched your fist, ignoring the whispers and the gawking of the palace servants and guards as you knelt down and pressed your lips to the child's palm, smiling as the innocent child giggled at you. It knew nothing of the future it would've been granted if they didn't have a friend like you.

"Don't worry, child, your life will be a happy one."

"Watch where you're swinging that thing! You nearly smacked the intern's head clean off!!"

Was that why you were seeing stars?

You stumbled for a second, nearly dragging a boom mic down with you as your legs tried to catch your near dead weight. The man carrying the wooden beam didn't even apologize as he carried on with what he was doing. In fact, nobody really seemed to care after they knew you weren't knocked out cold on the floor, knowing they just dodged a lengthy worker's comp.

"Yeah... thanks guys. Really feeling the teamwork," you grumbled, blinking past the tears. Where were you anyways?

Wait, that was strange. Why couldn't you remember anything? You remembered important details like what car you owned, where you lived, how to drive a car, but your past, your name, everything was gone like a balloon just popped between your ears.

"Ugh, maybe I do need to get myself that worker's compensation," You grumbled, rubbing your palm against your forehead, "Everything's coming out all topsy-turvy..."

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a loud smack against your back, nearly sending you reeling back into the boom mic's loving arms. "Hey, intern! The star needs something to wake him up, go get a drink from the cafe downstairs. You know what he likes, right?"

You spluttered as the burly man, obviously your boss, shoved a credit card into your hand and walked off back on set, not even giving you the chance to open your mouth to respond. You bit back a scowl, choosing instead to pocket the card and noiselessly stomp out of the recording studio, silently cursing your luck.

It continued all the to the cafe where you realized, hey, you really don't remember what ''the star'' liked in caffeinated beverages. The barista, equally as tired as you, watched in workplace related misery as you fumbled for ideas.

"Uh... hey," You tried reading their name tag, "Mim? What's the most popular drink you got here? I'll have one of those?"

"One java-chipped cappuccino coming right up~"

You pulled out one of the chairs at a table and sat yourself down while you waited and tried to piece together what exactly had happened to you. You were an intern, you could recall, barely scraping by in the big city with dreams of being film crew. You had graduated college with high grades, nothing to sniff at, but you had chosen to intern at this particular business for some reason. You pinched your brows but the more you thought about it, the more annoyed you got. The sound of your name being called was just the wake up call you needed.

The barista handed your drink before centering their gaze to your chest. You followed their gaze and found their eyes linked with the nametag laced around your neck as you ran the credit card to pay.

"Wow," they tapped their nail against the counter, "You're working with the Vil Schoenheit? That must be pretty crazy."

You let out a loud squawk in shock as memories came flooding back, accidentally sending the coffee half way across the counter and on to the floor, the foam and drink dripping all over the freshly wiped down tile. Your arm remained high in the air as you both looked at the mess you had made.

"I'll... um... can you hand me some napkins?"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland reader #isekai #vil shoenheit #jamil viper #reader insert #twisted wonderland

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harmlessghosty · 9 months ago

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Saw the vamp!touchstarved character braunrote and I offer my opinions:

Vampire Vere would be ruthless before he really falls in love with reader. He's greedy and wouldn't think twice about draining someone. But tbh I think when he gets close/serious with reader he'd still be greedy and messy and shit but he'd drink readers blood like it's fine wine. He gets his main fix from other victims but really savours reader. Expect it to be extremely bloody tho, he likes it to look like a crime scene xD

Leander for sure tries to kinda hide it. Not hardcore, bit he tries not to tell EVERYONE. He won't go our of his way but also you wouldn't know by just looking at him. I also think he'd be hesitant to drink from his SO and would make it way romantic, or at least he'd try

Mhin would go out of their way to hide that their a vampire. Would NEVER EVER dream of drinking from a person. They and up having to do it but they won't be happy. Also if their SO asked for them to drink their blood Mhin would refuse 100 times before agreeing. Feels very bad that they actually enjoyed it.... Might have gone a bit overboard too (vere did find out and tease them to hell and back fs)

I don't have much on Ais and Kuras rn cause... Brain empty

VAMPIRE TOUCHSTARVED BRAINROT, LET’S GOOOO! I love love LOVE all of your headcanons. Absolutely love them.

—

Vampire Vere would definitely not think twice about murder. MC would find him dabbing at his crimson lips with bloodstained, monogrammed handkerchiefs more often than not. And when he wants to feed from his beloved? It’s an entire show he puts on. They get a candlelit room, a nice hot meal, tons of fluffy pillows and blankets…the whole nine yards, before he leans so close, his breath runs across the nape of their neck. “You smell delightful,” he whispers, a firm kiss pressing to their skin. “I’m sure you don’t mind that I eat after all of this preparation I’ve done for you, hm?”

Leander DEFINITELY tries to hide it. There are rumors, of course, swirling around Eridia, but no one really knows what’s true and what’s not. Turns out, being a contracted killer really helps conceal his vampiric identity! He can easily do away with bodies and no one will ask questions. Why do criminals keep appearing with two holes in the same spot on their neck? Weird. Maybe someone should hire Leander to look into that and find the culprit…and of course, he’ll take MC along for the journey, which seems a bit more roundabout than it should be. If he needs to feed during the trip, then perhaps they’re a good source of sustenance. After all, does it matter if his beloved knows his secret? They won’t tell a soul unless they’re trying to get themselves mysteriously killed too…

Mhin would never drink from a person…unless they’re absolutely starving to death. Even then, I imagine it to be a moment of disgust with themself—retching and vomiting the first few times they feed, then admitting they need to drink blood for their survival and doing it as humanely as possible. They knock out their victims and only drink until the hunger has barely subsided. They choose spots beneath clothes where marks could be mistaken for bug bites. Mhin struggles to admit they like MC’s blood more than anyone else’s; they really wish they didn’t, but they can’t get enough of it, to the point that they find it difficult to sleep beside them at night without absentmindedly running their fangs along MC’s skin. They’re just so hungry around their partner. Maybe…just a little sip…

Ais is a voracious beast and doesn’t try to hide his vampiric nature even a little bit. Everyone knows he’s dangerous, and everyone avoids him like the plague. And naturally, Ais with Vere is…horrifying. There’s a lot of begging for him to give mercy and let them live, but he’s no fool. If he lets too many of his victims live, then surely people will find a way to gang up on him. While that’s an interesting proposition, he’s not sure he wants to fight a dozen weak-ass humans when he’d much rather fight someone of his own caliper; humans are just too pathetic. When he meets MC, he’s constantly teasing them with flashes of his long fangs. “Scared? Should be, little sparrow,” he says, scrubbing dried blood off of his knuckles. He even sneaks up to feed from them, thinking MC will just be another victim, but somehow becomes smitten with their taste instead. They should be savored. It’s much more satisfying tasting them on occasion than devouring them whole so quickly.

Kuras is meticulous. He’s very much prone to drawing blood through proper means and drinking it from simple testing tubes in shot-like doses. If a patient needs a transfusion or a blood test, he’ll simply take an extra vial or two as payment. Yes, he feels guilty at first, but he can’t allow himself to starve when he needs to help the people of Eridia as a consequence of his terrible past. When MC is discovered practically bled out and armless, he makes sure to put them back together and doesn’t take a sample, not even a little, but he strongly considers it. He even has to wipe drool from his lips because they simply smell so strongly of beautiful blood. When they get closer to him and realize his true nature, he offers little more than a calm smile. “Would you like to sustain me as well, or do you prefer our current partnership instead?”

#touchstarved game #touchstarved ais #touchstarved vere #touchstarved mhin #touchstarved leander #touchstarved kuras #kuras #vere #leander #mhin #ais #vampires #ghosty’s asks #ghostywrites #touchstarved headcanons

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heliads · 1 year ago

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Tewkesbury x Gn reader, them being both love sick idiots

masterlist

Tewkesbury is meant to be paying attention, but he’s not. Again. Enola’s been trying to brief him on all the latest scatterbrained clues she’s somehow twisting together into one intricate braid of a plan, but it all just sounds like fragments of nothing to him. When Tewkesbury has no idea what’s going on, he zones out. It’s not his fault.

In his defense, there is a lot happening in his life at the moment. If his position in the House of Lords didn’t bring him enough trouble already, because Parliament is an active traincar hurtling towards a new wreck every week, Enola’s gotten them both wound up in yet another murder case. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if she’s causing these things just to give them a bit of entertainment. It seems likely at least half the time.

There’s something else on his mind, too, if Tewkesbury is in the habit of being honest. Someone, technically. There’s someone who’s come into his life, someone new, someone extraordinary, and the thoughts of where they were and what they were doing recently are far more pleasant thoughts than Enola’s discovery of two bodies with their throats slit.

Someone claps their hands right in front of his eyes and Tewkesbury flinches back, startled. He squints irritably at Enola, who glares right back at him. “What was that for?”

Enola’s scowl has been perfected over practice. “You’re not focusing. I’ve been talking about only the weather for the last three minutes and you never even noticed the abrupt change of subject.”

Tewkesbury frowns. “That would explain why I was suddenly thinking about storm clouds. It is supposed to rain later tonight, though. Excellent observation.”

Enola just huffs, vexed. “I had made several other excellent observations if you were in the habit of listening to me, which you’re not, obviously. So what’s up with you, then?”

He blinks at her in surprise. “What, sorry?”

Enola waves a hand at him in consternation. “You’re pretty clearly preoccupied with something else. What in the world could possibly be more important than another murder case? Has Parliament passed another bloody terrible law, then?”

Tewkesbury shakes his head. “No, not that. Well, yes, they’re always making awful compromises, but that wasn’t what I was thinking of.”

“Then what was it, then?” Enola asks. “Spit it out so we can get back to business. Otherwise you’re just going to go back to thinking about it again.”

“Wise thinking,” Tewkesbury admits. “Very well, then. I was thinking about someone I like.”

He can’t help but smile as he says it at the thought of this particular person. He waits for Enola to do something Enola-like such as swat him on the shoulder or complain to the heavens about why she was burdened with such an easily distracted partner in solving crime, but neither reaction occurs. Instead, she just shrugs and says she figured as much.

It’s funny, he can still remember a time in which Enola would vigorously tease him for so much as mentioning a conversation between himself and someone he was thinking of courting, but no more, it seems. She’s grown up. He has too. They’ve had no choice in the matter, not after what they’ve been through. Time comes for everyone, you either survive or find yourself buried alive in the past. Tewkesbury has been doing his best to continue outrunning the boy he had been, and it appears that Enola has been sprinting just as hard as him.

Regardless, he’s pleased by it. Tewkesbury recently bruised his shoulder and he doesn’t think he’d appreciate a swat aimed in its general direction any time soon.

“So?” Enola prods. “Who’s the mysterious person? I want details. Do I have competition in the solving of crimes? Because if so, you’ll have to let them know that they have to find someone else. I’m not interested in you for a courtship, of course, but I’ve already gone to the trouble of telling you all my clues, I don’t want to have to train anyone else in the matter.”

Tewkesbury snorts. “You’ll have no worries on that front. No, I’m not solving mysteries with this person, and yes, I am courting them. You’re safe on both counts.”

Enola’s brow furrows. “If you’re not solving crimes, why are you possibly interested in them?”

He just barely manages to turn his laugh into a polite cough. “Not all of us are quite so tempted in stabbings and lacerations, Enola. She’s a perfectly lovely person, we get along splendidly. They listen to me talk about plants and I love walking about the town with them.”

She narrows her gaze at him. “You haven’t mentioned a single name thus far. Who is this mysterious interest of yours?”

This time he does snort in disbelief. “You’ve got to be out of your mind if you think I’m telling you any identifying information. You’d stalk them or something.”

“It would only be for your own good,” Enola frowns, “Shame, though. I was sort of thinking about setting you up with one of my friends. They’re tough as nails and very clever in the whole investigation business, I would have thought you’d like them. Perhaps they were too good for you, though, since you won’t take any of this as seriously as you should.”

Tewkesbury rolls his eyes. “I’m sure. Okay, you’ve wrung me of information. Go on with your clues, I’m paying attention this time.”

“Are you sure?” She asks, suspicious.

“Of course I’m sure,” he tells her. He’s not. Mere moments after Enola turns back to her tracings of plaques and hastily scribbled down house addresses, Tewkesbury is thinking fondly of the time they’d walked through the gardens east of this place. There had been the most beautiful medicinal herbs, and absolutely no murders. Truly a wonderful experience.

It would have been a better use of Tewkesbury’s time to have focused, though, because as Enola is reviewing her information, she gasps with a sudden realization and then they have to take off through the streets in search of a key eyewitness they had previously overlooked. That eyewitness turned out to have been behind it all, and then Tewkesbury blinked and found himself being held at gunpoint. How joyous.

The guy’s damn near crazy, leading to Tewkesbury to wonder again why on earth he keeps finding himself mixed up in all of this. He and Enola are both trying to reason with the guy, goading him into dropping his guard at least just a little bit so Enola can get the jump on him, but every time their attacker’s hand dips a millimeter, he raises it just as quickly.

There’s no getting out of this, or so it seems, at least. Every minute, the guy seems more and more inclined to shoot them both and get rid of any evidence that he’d been involved in all this. Out of the corner of his eye, Tewkesbury catches a flash of motion, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. The two of them had set off in quite a rush for the eyewitness’ location in the hopes of hearing useful clues before the police or other investigators could catch up to them, which unfortunately means that no one will be coming to save them.

Or, perhaps that might not be the case after all. The flicker of movement comes again, this time not from Tewkesbury’s side but in front of him. A silhouette emerges from the gloom behind their attacker. Tewkesbury does his best to keep his gaze firmly trained on the guy waving a gun at him, which isn’t too difficult to do, just to make sure the murderer doesn’t catch onto their rescuer before any saving of lives can occur.

The blink of an eye; the shine of dim lighting on wood, and then their would-be killer is out like a light, limbs sprawling on the ground. The gun doesn’t go off, thankfully, and Tewkesbury kicks it under a nearby table and out of harm's way as soon as he can.

While he’s handling the weapon, he hears Enola’s voice rise with delight. “And here I thought we were the only ones in this case! Y/N, you’re the best.”

“Just like always, huh?” Their rescuer says, and then Tewkesbury’s whipping around, unable to hide the thrilled grin on his face.

“Y/N?” He asks, confused but wonderfully happy.

They’re grinning at him too, even more so when Tewkesbury rushes forward to wrap his arms around them, spinning them off of the ground in one excited loop. It’s not too proper of him, of course, but there is no one to see them here but Enola, and he really, really, likes seeing Y/N, especially when they’re saving him from death by bullet.

Enola is still definitely here, though, and she’s staring between Tewkesbury and Y/N as if she’s lost her mind. “I’m sorry, when did the two of you ever know each other? Least of all well enough to do all of that?”

Tewkesbury laughs. “I believe I forgot to do introductions. Enola, this is Y/N, the person I was speaking of earlier.”

Enola’s jaw drops. “You’re courting Y/N L/N? No. No, they would have told me. Y/N, why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N just grins. “You’re the master detective, I assumed I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

Something is dawning on Tewkesbury, and he looks between Y/N and Enola with mounting levels of shock. “Wait, Enola, when you said you were sad to hear I was courting someone because you wanted to set me up with your friend, did you mean Y/N?”

“Yes,” Enola confirms, “I didn’t realize you were actually seeing them, though.”

He nods. “Do you take back what you said about them being too good for me, then?”

“No,” Enola says cheerfully.

Y/N grins. “I’m just glad to hear I’m highly thought of.”

Enola harrumphs. “Tewkesbury’s also highly thought of, apparently. Y/N can’t stop talking to me about this fantastic boy they’ve been seeing, how he’s just wonderful and courteous and brilliant and whatnot. They wouldn’t tell me a name either.”

Tewkesbury looks at Y/N with a grin, who’s conspicuously not meeting his eyes. “You said all those nice things about me to Enola? Really?”

“No need to bring it up again,” they whisper, but he couldn’t care less.

“I think we should bring it up more often, actually,” he tells them, “again and again. I’ll tell you all the wonderful things I told Enola about you. It’ll be a deal.”

Y/N is smiling at him again, blinding and beautiful, and it’s more than enough to convince Tewkesbury to ignore Enola in the back talking about how she’d rather get shot by the murderer than listen to the two of them keep up this nonsense any longer.

The comment does serve to remind Tewkesbury of their purpose here, though. There’s no reason to stick around any longer, and Enola heads out quickly to alert the police of the murderer trying to kill them. That leaves Tewkesbury and Y/N to leave the building by themselves.

Tewkesbury sticks his head out the door with a grimace. “It’s raining,” he tells them.

Y/N frowns. “Drat. I’d worry about my clothes, but I smudged them already trying to grab something heavy to beat that guy with.”

“And you did a marvelous job with the beating,” Tewkesbury promises them. “Completely worth the cost of the clothes.”

He steps out into the rain and extends a hand to them. Y/N accepts it with a smile, allowing him to pull them into a spin before coming to him again. They’ve danced with each other before at various functions and galas, but this time is more fun, more free.

The rain drums on the rooftops, providing them with all the melody they’ll ever need. Tewkesbury listens to the patter of their feet on the road, the laughter echoing between the two of them. He watches Y/N’s arms raise as they spin, how their hand fits perfectly in his every time. He looks, and he smiles, and he thinks that he would be absolutely content with this being forever. He never wants to leave this moment, and for now, at least, he never will. The rain beats on, and the two of them dance.

enola holmes tag list: @mayfieldss

#tewkesbury #tewkesbury imagines #tewkesbury x reader #tewkesbury oneshot #enola holmes #enola holmes imagines #enola holmes x reader #enola holmes oneshot #enola holmes tewkesbury #enola holmes tewkesbury imagines #enola holmes tewkesbury x reader #enola holmes tewkesbury oneshot

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etraytin · 2 months ago

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Just a note to let all the moots and buddies know that my family and I are safe and well after several days completely incommunicado after Helene. I admit to a certain amount of personal arrogance before the storm; I spent all of Thursday working a Red Cross shelter in Swannanoa (Western North Carolina was flooding even before Helene made landfall) and went home to sleep, confident that I would be largely unaffected there and come back to help the actual damaged areas after the storm. I didn’t even fill our goddamned bathtubs, what the hell, past me?

In any case, the storm hit us like the fist of an angry god, and while I was incredibly lucky that my home was spared, the winds caused a huge amount of damage to the power grid, which in turn wiped out water (all wells in my area!) and communications. We were still better off than other more low-lying places, where they got the wind and the water both, to devastating effect. I picked my way carefully back to Swannanoa on Saturday because my entire Red Cross chain of command was a black hole of no comms and this was the last place I’d seen them, but the shelter had been closed and moved because the damage was too extensive. I had to drive around a huge car shed that had been set down in the middle of the highway and past a sinkhole bigger than my van just to get to the place, so it was understandable. The weird thing is, Swannanoa had cell signal so I sat in the parking lot of a closed and washed-out gas station for about an hour just to call our loved ones and try and figure out what had happened to us.

Living in a communications blackout is very interesting and strange. You’d think it would be like rocketing back into the past, but it is not. People had ways of communicating before the internet that have not survived the internet. Radio stations are so rarely local now, and how many of them are actually good at relaying emergency information anymore? The most infuriating of our local stations would offer bumpers promising news and wither, then directing people to their website which we of course could not access. Nobody has landlines anymore to talk on the phone. Even people with “landlines” have digital phones through their cable service, not real telephone lines. Ham radio operators are rarer than hen’s teeth. When I got back from Swannanoa, I walked up and down the very steep hill that is my street, visiting my neighbors and telling them that I had gone to visit the internet and come back with news!

My trip did provide us with an action plan and a route out of town, at least. Only one major road out of Buncombe County was open, and it was the one furthest from us, but we hoped we could do it. Both cars had a third of a tank of gas left, so we picked the one that got better mileage, packed up and crossed our fingers. The evening before we left, we invited all the neighbors over and grilled all the meat in our freezer, now thawed and on the edge of ruin. They brought stuff too and we had chicken, burgers, brats, hot dogs, salmon and shrimp. It was really nice and didn’t break up until dusk when we all had to go home by flashlight. In the morning, we left as soon as it was light, hoping to avoid traffic, and with no maps and a vague idea of where we were going, headed for Charlotte and the modern world. It took us about four hours to go what would have been ninety miles on the normal route, including time waiting in a very long line for gas, but we got to my sister’s house where we got showers and cold drinks and basically just fell into bed.

So that’s how it stands now. We are safe, we are out, we are going back soon even if the power doesn’t come back. The Red Cross still needs me and our house is going to get very yucky all closed up to mildew in the post-storm humidity. We are taking this time to rest up and stock up on supplies and batteries, then it’s back into the void. Please send good wishes our way, and maybe donate to the Red Cross or other orgs working out here because it’s a huge, huge job.

#hurricane helene #Buncombe county #American Red Cross #journal stuff

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taradactylus · 7 months ago

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Been off from tumblr a bit but I just wanna share my general thoughts about TSAMS, especially today's episode...

‼️Quick warning for suicide and self harm mention‼️

I feel betrayed. I legit cried. Out of embarassment, betrayal, and pure but well-reserved anger.

I'm not going to be quiet about how to show handled Sun's problem. Not one fucking media type ever dares to normally bring up suicidal problems, the people who suffer from this, the amount of kids and adults who DIE from such thoughts. This isn't about the overly edgy teenagers who want to normalize cutting yourself is okey and cool. This is about the people who suffered for months and years with such conditions while the world made fun of them or ignored their calls for help. Ignored the signs.

USA doesn't have much of a public transport where the show is going on. But here we do. And a lot of trains are late every day. Late for hours because of "mechanical issues". 8 out of 10 times the mechanical issue is a local kid who jumped front of the train. A teenager fed up with life. An adult who lost their way. An ederly too impatient for death.

I have waited months. Months. To see how Sun deals with it. A character I fell in love with not in a romantic sense, a character who shared way too many of my own problems from hallucinations from abuse till betrayal. A character who was pushed and pulled their entire life around people who slapped you then said they love you. I wanted to see how he heals out from it.

The signs were there. Everywhere. Sun said it out loud once that he at least fantasized about death. EVEN OLD MOON KNEW ABOUT THIS! He literally told New Moon Sun would be capable of doing it.

So why... why through Miku, the character used as the "weird fandom girl" symbol do they bring up such a delicate topic? A topic that is not delicate because you have to tip toe around the people who live with self destructive thoughts day and night, but delicate because it matters to be properly heard out AND NO ONE LISTENS!

Not one fucking media listens. A lot of us out there rely on fandoms. Stories we can escape to because the world never listens. And call me a self-projector all you want dear creators or whoever writes the story, but you either just pulled the cheapest and most dumbest way to close off a story line with solving Sun's problems off-screen, or you just legit don't give a fuck about people who "self-projected".

Honestly, what if I did? What if in a sense, I saw myself in Sun? A Sunshine of a character ruined and changed by the things that happened to him. Am I not allowed to relate to him? Am I an annoying "fan-girl" for caring about how he heals because I myself have no idea how to do it either? Or am I like Miku for hoping someone calls out on his behaviour because that's something I've wanted my entire life and never got?

And here I am, still somehow hoping Sun is lying. That he is in denial. That there is more to what was shown... but honestly? How long should I wait and hope while the character I started to like is now becoming a bit too toxic?

And with all due respect, I'm taking this episode personally. The creators watch the fandom. Probably have their secret accounts to see what the people theorize. And if Sun is not lying, and suicide is an annoying topic and we are self-projecting too much onto Sun, with all due respect, dear creators... grow the fuck up and educate yourself.

I don't need the world to pity my ass for having self-harming habits, wishing to die and even attempted suicide before (I'm getting my ass to therapy in the meantime so do not worry about me), but all I want from content creators to fucking educate themselfes before bringing up such topics. TO CARE A BIT MAYBE?!

I have survived my worst times, but not everyone does (it's not about who is weaker or stronger, only utter guilt held me back, without that I'd be long gone), andI want for those who has no help feel like they're heard and seen. Cause literally that's all itt takes sometimes to maybe save someone's life.

So yeah. I'm utterly disappointed in this episode. Not because I want the world to know that I'm suicidal and everyone should tip toe around me and "omg pls give me attention" ect ect ect...

Im disappointed because I had hopes for TSAMS to maybe, maybe be an example and bring this topic up normally for a change. But well... here goes my hope for an educational approach of suicide and self harm in a popular show.

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permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 · 3 months ago

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The Abhorred | Adar/OC (part 1)

Summary: It is a moment Maethoriel never imagined, but the empty raiment at her feet proves that it had, indeed, come to pass. Sauron is dead. She should feel relief, but all that she knows instead is a sense of fear over a world that will see not only herself, but her companions as monsters to be eradicated at any cost. It is a fear that will pull her away from the only one who ever kept her safe. And she is hardly blind to how holding on to that fear almost certainly risks keeping her forever adrift from the one that she loves.

Warnings: angst, some hints of Stockholm syndrome, references to torture, it's gonna get pretty dark in here, folks. Warnings will be updated as the series goes on.

Tag-list: please let me know if you would like to be tagged for future updates!

A/N: Whelp...I've gone and done it. And I am freaking terrified that I will somehow mess this up! The vision in my head is something I am so, so very excited about, but imposter syndrome is a thing, and I'm not 100% confident I can pull it off. I suppose only time will tell?

Either way, though, this one is for all of my fellow Adar-girlies! He deserves all of the attention and love he can get, and I really hope that the demented little plot gremlins running amok in my mind have created something that at least some of you will enjoy!

It was not supposed to end like this.

That is the only thought the woman seems capable of as she stares down at the place where he once was. Where the one who had caused her so much pain had rested, dead. Gone. No more. Some small part of her knows that she should feel relief. That she should be pleased at his demise.

Now, though, all that she can seem to understand is the bone deep feeling of regret.

"I am your only future!"

The words ring inside her mind like the clamor of bells, a warning against any thought of breaking free. Of even attempting to seek another path that did not align with his plans. His plans, that only ever brought dissent and terror and pain. Still, she stares at the emptiness of the fabrics at her feet, shallow breaths rattling inside of her chest as her mind recalls that those fabrics once held his form. Sauron's form.

She cannot move. Cannot tear her eyes from the ground. She can barely even breathe, and the walls seem to close in from all sides. Silence surrounds her as all those that had been in the hall from the start take in what has just transpired, though they can hardly believe it to be true. It isn't until she feels the presence of another, moving to stand beside her, that she begins to return to herself, but when a hand rests upon her shoulders, everything within her is suddenly possessed by a desire to wrench herself away.

"Maethoriel—"

"What have you done?"

Muted though it may be, the inquiry lands like a blow upon the person standing beside her. Someone she once trusted, but the one who had now blown apart every last bit of the world she once knew. Her eyes search his face, desperate. Pleading for some sign that this was not, in fact, his plan all along, but she finds nothing. Nothing to indicate her wild hope is warranted. Nothing, save for the vindication of one who has, at long last, achieved a goal.

"What have you done?"

"I have done what was necessary to secure our freedom."

"Freedom," The woman scoffs, another step creating still more distance between herself and the one who stands beside her, something not all that far from pity more than apparent within his gaze, "What you have done is cast us out into the world to live in exile."

"We will survive, Maethoriel."

"As beings who are to be turned away by everyone we meet? As those who would be hunted for crimes that are unforgivable?"

"The true mind behind those crimes is dead."

"And we are the poorer for it!"

Bile rises to the back of the woman's throat as soon as the words are spoken, because even though a part of her believes them, there is another, private part of her mind that wishes with everything she has that she did not. She would be a fool to deny that acting in league with Sauron had brought them nothing but misery. That he had been a terror, holding everything he touched in thrall with an iron fist.

Still, after everything, there had been a sense of—if not belonging, then at least one of temporary respite. They had a home, even if it were not the most desirable.

Hardly able to stand those thoughts as they rise to the forefront of her mind, Maethoriel attempts to rebel against them. She tries with all her might to understand that what her companion has just done was exactly what was needed all along.

Silent, he watches her carefully. An expression that she cannot decipher appears in familiar features, and cuts through her, down to her very bones. Mere moments ago, the two of them had been standing, united, or so she had believed at the time, and now?

Now, it is as though a chasm exists between them. One it seems nothing can bridge.

It was not supposed to end like this.

"I am your only future! And my path, your only path."

The man standing before her had all but destroyed that future with a single blow.

Confusion flares within her as Maethoriel continues to stand rooted to the spot, chest heaving with the effort of continuing to breathe. With the effort of forcing herself to recall every moment of torment—every scar earned—the longer she had remained at Sauron's side. She reminds herself of each day spent hunting. Spent killing. Nights, consumed with another sort of conflict best left unspoken.

Every last one of them in the hall with her had suffered the same, and the prospect of freedom from such pain seemed far too alluring to be real. It was too alluring to be real, given the reality of facing judgment from those who had once flocked to their side.

Men, and elves, and dwarves alike would look upon them with nothing shy of hatred. She knows this as surely as anything else she has seen in her lifetime. But in spite of it, she also knows that she should feel relief that Sauron is gone. She should feel relief that the one who would see them all enslaved will never be able to harm any one of them ever again.

The regret she feels over her inability to genuinely give in to such a thing is nearly enough to bring her to her knees.

"...my path, your only path."

All of the deception—the betrayal at Sauron's hands—and even still, Maethoriel cannot seem to rid herself of the notion that this coup had been folly. That it would serve to do all of them far more harm than good. She cannot help but feel the flames of a dull sort of anger towards the one still standing beside her, and that more than anything else feels like the serrated edge of a knife slicing against her heart.

"What—what am I to do?"

Her voice cracks over the words, and the sting of unshed tears burns at her eyes, forcing Maethoriel to avert her gaze, rather than continuing to look the man beside her in the eye any longer. The idea of facing the betrayal he likely feels over her outburst is simply too much for her to bear.

Already, her heart yearns for forgiveness, though she begins to suspect that is a thing that will not come easily. Not when this apparent victory had been so hard-won. And even when she feels the warmth of fingertips not encased in a gauntlet's cold grip come to rest beneath her chin, turning her face upward once more, Maethoriel hardly dares to breathe.

"I will not force your allegiance, Maethoriel. Not as he did."

The fingers beneath her chin move, for a moment, so that the warm callouses of a familiar palm come to rest against her cheek in their stead, and Maethoriel wants to lean into that touch. She wants to savor that small bit of gentleness, and keep it close, forever.

Before she can make any move at doing so, however, the sensation is gone. Pulled from her at such speed she can hardly reconcile herself with its loss. Again, she averts her gaze, this time to avoid looking directly at the sight of her companion turning to depart. A low chant begins to echo around the hall while she struggles to choose. Stay with the empty raiment resting at her feet, or follow after one who, in spite of recent acts, she has come to love beyond reason.

Her thoughts are an amalgamation of pain, and regret, and confusion, but even then, she does not miss the words spoken to her, and clearly intended to be said in parting, spoken so lowly that even she nearly struggles to hear.

"I cannot choose your path for you. You must do that for yourself."

"I am your only future!"

A sob works its way up Maethoriel's throat whether she wishes it to or not, the sound drowned out amongst the tramp of feet as those who had waited in the rapidly emptying hall move to depart. A singular glance shows her that her companion is now entirely gone from her sight, his tall frame swallowed completely by the throng of those he called his children.

Slowly, she turns to depart as well, though her path leads in the opposite direction from the rest. She steels herself against the pain that winds its way like a vice around her heart.

Knowing that at least one of them would not be alone serves as meager reassurance when compared to the cost of her own choices. The cost of her own inability to free herself from Sauon's hold, even now. Now that he is gone.

The strange sense of grief that she feels over his passing only adds fuel to the fire that is now lending speed to her movements as she makes her way through darkened hallways. As she begins to consider the reality of an eternity spent in the shadows. And even if she knows not where she should go, or how she will spend that eternity now that it is staring her in the face, Maethoriel does know one simple thing.

Of the two of them, she is abundantly grateful that it will be her, and not Adar, that must endure it alone.

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dotster001 · 1 year ago

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Okay, I binged "My next life as a villainess" and I gotta defend my girl Catarina

Incoming spoilers for seasons one and two

So Crunchyroll has a comments system, at least on mobile. There were so many comments complaining about Catarina, saying she's so dense and so dumb, and some were like, her being the heroine ruins the show.

And I just want to say....people like her exist! That's literally me! Not even joking, most of her reactions to her romantic prospects are the same exact ones I would make!

Like, some of us aren't good at societal cues. If you want me to know you're in love with me, you have to verbally say, "I'm in love with you, romantically."

Some of us have short term memory. Geordo, as much as I don't trust him, he had the right idea, reminding Caterina a lot about his feelings, giving her romantic gifts, verbally telling her he loved her, not as a friend. I had a lot of respect for that.

Caterina feels very aro-ace coded, which is not to say she's always aro, but sometimes being aro means some days you're aromantic, some days you're not, and sometimes you like a good romance novel, but in real life you can't comprehend how it works.

And an aro ace who was kissed once (looking at you Keith) and then the person who kissed them never brings it up again, never talks about it, goes completely back to normal in terms of interraction, someone with a short memory/attention span, who only knows romance from a literature perspective, who obviously doesn't understand romance from a real life perspective, is gonna assume that it was a) a joke b) a mistake/accident c) the person who kissed them regrets it d) all of the above, or something else.

There's also the level of trauma and stuff that Catarina has gone through, so she may just not have the state of mind to be like, "ah, the guy who engaged himself to me out of guilt, when I was eight, isn't cancelling the engagement because he genuinely loves me." No! Your main focus is survival!

Anyways, people being mean to a heroine who I found myself intimately relating to in a way I haven't before was kind of a bummer, and I felt like someone should stand up for her. Also, I learned I need someone like Geordo, who when I slip into the aro space will remind me how he feels/how I feel. So that was kind of nice 😁

I also highly recommend it, it was super cute, and the characters all had that "chaos reigns" vibe that the twst boys have. Might end up writing for it, cause I'm having a hard time finding fics for it.

#my next life as a villainess #just some thoughts

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obislittleone · 9 months ago

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The Winner Takes It All

Episode 10

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: more death, more canon typical violence, some bonding between allies because they gotta survive this bitch as long as they can...

Chapter Summary: Danger lies in places you least expect it. Whether that be in the form of a small animal, or in a harmless capitol citizen. No one is safe from anything in the hunger games.

Word Count: 3.2k

howdy ho, pls excuse my laziness as of lately and enjoy some daily updates (i am not lazy i swear i have been launching a literal fashion brand ToT)

He snapped out of his trance when he heard the tail end of a half whispered conversation behind him. “I imagine with her it would be marvelous, she certainly has the stamina,” one of the men behind him chuckled, the one on his left nodding in agreement before slamming back his drink. “Not to mention the flexibility.”

Finnick was restless, watching the screen, as usual.

He’d only gone into the viewing party to stir some chatter, enough to get a sponsor, but then he’d been back on his couch, Mags close by in a chair that was far too large for a sweet little old woman such as herself. She did not care to move, either.

It hurt her, to know that all this work, all this dedication, and all this commitment to the girl that came here from four might be in vain. But she kept a smile of optimism on her face for him, because she hadn’t seen him care so much about something in a long time. He had almost been numbed to these occasions, dulled to their effects. She held onto the same sliver of hope that he had been clinging to, praying that he would not be crushed if she were to lose. She couldn’t bear to watch him go through something like that again. The first time being when he watched the girl from his district die in the arena beside him. They trained together, they were allies together, and they had known each other before the reaping. Just like you and Lukas.

Lukas, the dear boy with the longing for a loving mother. Mags hoped she gave him a taste of what it was like, to have someone wrap their arms around you and to be proud of you without any cause or reason. Lukas needed that. Lukas needed a lot of things. She hated the rules of these games, hated the games more than anything. That boy deserves to live, deserves to finally be shown respect from the one person he craves the most… but Finnick’s girl. One who also deserves to live, to come home and to let Finnick hold you in his arms. Mags would never bring it up to him, but she knows the glint in his eye is more than just the protection of a mentor. The look of genuine fear when he feels his prized girl may be in danger is not just one of sympathy for another tribute. He’s latched onto this one, she can feel it. She only hopes that when the time comes for one of them to die, that she will not have to face the streams of tears… her own or Finnicks.

She watches him, the way he studies your every movement when the screen returns to the career pack, now depleted to three careers and a district seven tribute. A wild bunch they are, but hopefully the game makers will not overestimate their abilities. Lukas may have killed one tribute already, but Mercedes hasn’t. Mags doesn’t think she even could if she tried to. She knows that Finnick thinks the same thing.

His smile when he leans forward is sweet, seeing her open the note she had crumpled into her pocket. She mirrors his smile on the other side of the camera, not even realizing it. His heart melts as she reads it, and rereads it, and then once more. She’s clinging to it, holding onto that little piece of paper. It’s the only communication she can get from him on the inside of this damned arena.

“We should save those, we need to be using this time to gather other sources of food before more tributes come back to the cornucopia.”

Lukas was taking the lead again, and for good reason. There was little debate when it came to who was pulling the strings of this makeshift operation. He’d been the most confident with his survival knowledge, although he lacked in combat from the other careers.

“He’s right, by tomorrow, the last tributes are going to try and find us. It’s best we stock up everything we’re going to need before that happens,” Lyra said, throwing on one of the backpacks, one of the smaller ones full of Kunai knives and hunting lures.

“I w-wove this last night, it’s n-not standard, but it should w-work,” you held up to Lukas the fishing net you’d conjured before you’d gotten so tired the night before. It was far smaller than what he was used to, but it would work nonetheless.

“It’s perfect,” he smiled, packing it up into another backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he nodded his head towards the trail ahead.

You all were going to need to find a river, but luckily for you, Rodey had claimed to see one earlier yesterday, when you were all barely limping back to the cornucopia.

He was doing really well this morning, probably on account of the sponsor he’d gotten. A new pair of shoes to replace the ones that were torn to bits from running yesterday. His blisters were killing him until those new shoes arrived. Now he was chipper as ever.

“It was a bit further out, had a waterfall behind it…” he trailed, leading you all in a twisting and turning hike through the foggy forest of vines and trees that were tall enough to be skyscrapers.

The scenery was something out of an old adventure book, something of an era you wished was alive today. Something where the hero gets the girl, and the danger comes to an end. You don’t see that happening at the conclusion of your story. You see your picture in the sky and the boom of cannonfire, ringing out in your ears before it all goes dark. You just hope it won’t be too horrible, too violent or too messy.

By the time you reached the river, which was barely even a river, you went to the edge to stand by Lukas. You looked out to the waterfall that was sitting at the edge of the river bank, creating the endless flow. It was pretty, or it would be, under different circumstances. The other two of the group had taken off, finding bushes full of Echinacea flowers, and started harvesting those in case of any possible infections occurring in the future.

“W-what do I need to do?” You asked the boy next to you, helping him take the net out of the backpack and unfold it enough that it will work to catch.

“Not much. Can you stand in this shallow part over here?”

You used his help to step down into the water, the surface level barely reaching your hips. The coolness drenching your clothes was a nice contrast to the constantly warm and overly humid environment. You’d been feeling sticky and gross for the past two days, and this was like a little bath of sorts. It rid you of that nasty feeling, and for once, you were happy to be standing in water.

“You’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m g-good.”

He nodded, hopping in as well and handing you one end of the net, beginning to walk over towards the further side of the small river. It was far deeper on his side, but it didn’t deter him. He kept steady, opening the net and allowing it to start blocking the flow of anything swimming through. There weren’t many fish in the water, so it would take a minute of waiting.

Meanwhile, Lyra and Rodey had stuffed their pockets full of the flowers and other plants that may be useful to them.

“So, Mercedes,” Lyra began, looking towards the riverbank and seeing you splash your hair into the water. She found it amusing, considering she heard one of the boys comment about her lack of swimming abilities. Maybe they’d been joking. She was from four, so it didn’t quite make sense.

“What about her?” Rodey’s brows strewn with confusion, he turned to face Lyra completely, setting his backpack down for a moment to sit and rest. It had been a longer journey than expected to get here.

“You call her Mercy, right?” She asked, and he nodded in return. What was she getting at? He didn’t care to interject yet. “Do you think…?”

“Do I think what?”

She sighed, looking once more to yourself and Lukas, before settling her eyes on Rodey.

“Do you think she’s actually merciful? I have to think she’d kill either of us if she had to, but something tells me she’s not so sure of herself… She’s strong, man… she’s really strong. But she doesn’t exert it. When she fought me in training, it’s like she didn’t care if she won or lost.”

Rodey’s eyes found your smile by the riverbank, something sweet and warm and full of life, the exact opposite of what these games are supposed to be. You contradicted the meaning the capitol gave them, and he wondered if that would be in more ways than one.

“She hasn’t killed anyone yet. I think when the time comes she’ll do what she has to, but until then, I wouldn’t bet on it being either of us.”

Lyra nodded, seemingly having the same thought. Rodey likes you, he wasn’t going to say something about you that could get you killed before you had to be. That’s the game, but for as long as he can he wants to take a page out of your book, avoiding the rules.

Finnick was standing as straight and tall as he could, his confidence on the outside rivaling that which had been seen for years. The side of him that people knew and loved. His cocky gestures and snarky remarks, the slight arrogance and acceptance of man worship at his feet. It had always been a facade, but it was harder to wear recently. Now he did his best to show that he was back, his original self was on display for everyone to see.

He’d taken the day to become a little more serious about sponsors. So far, there was only one need of a Capitol gift, but as the last days roll around, he knows that he needs to start racking up the funds. You and Lukas have dwindling supplies, and soon, he’s sure the game makers will be using that against you.

Mags never felt herself useful for this sort of thing, she always sat quietly in the corner and tried to simply read the room, giving tips to Finnick if he needed them. She was so thankful to have him by her side. He was so much better at being the talkative presence in these Capitol functions. Especially ones that had so much riding on them. Today, yours and Lukas’ lives. Next year, another pair of tributes who will need the same supplies, sponsors, and supporters. It was a crucial part of the games, and now more than ever, Finnick sought after these wealthy citizen’s personal assistance.

He’d taken a break from circling for a moment, standing before the screen, watching you help Lukas with the fishing net. The water was shallow enough to stand in, and you seemed to be doing alright, the current of the stream not pulling or pushing you in any which direction. You’d even dunked your hair into the water, bringing some relief to your body, having thoroughly been exposed to the heat and humidity of this rainforest. Even though it rained often, it was still warm and humid.

You’d whipped your hair back over your head, splashing Lukas in the face. He playfully scooped a hand into the water and threw it up in your direction, and you laughed with a wide smile.

You were so beautiful, your smile was stunning. He was momentarily frozen in wonder… awestruck wonder. Like a moment where you gaze upon a magnificent sunset or a calming scene of nature. Something that you have to sit and admire for a second, because damn… you didn’t think anything could be so lovely without even trying.

He snapped out of his trance when he heard the tail end of a half whispered conversation behind him.

“I imagine with her it would be marvelous, she certainly has the stamina,” one of the men behind him chuckled, the one on his left nodding in agreement before slamming back his drink. “Not to mention the flexibility.”

Finnick turned on his heels, staring down the gentleman’s face, and acting as though he didn’t know what was going on.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He played, tilting his head to entice some sort of response.

“Oh, nothing. We were just talking about how agile and athletic your tributes are. You must be very proud.”

“I am, and I’m going to do everything I can to keep bad things from happening to them,” he said with a sarcastic tone on the last bit. He knew that with the look he shot the man to speak, they would consider another topic of conversation.

Finnick only turned back around when they moved on to talk about other tributes.

What he’d heard pretty much cemented in stone what he already thought to be true. If you made it out of that arena, you’d be doomed to a life the same as him. Being called into the Capitol for nightly visits until they grow tired of you. It took finnick five whole years to become old news… he can’t even imagine how loved you would be for many years beyond that. You’d somehow charmed him without even trying, and here he was on a mission to save your life because of it. He couldn’t fathom how anyone could grow tired of you. There’s no other tribute, past, present, or even future that has a chance of beating you in sweetness and beauty. There’s no other tribute who has your compassion, your mercy… as much as he hated that nickname for you, he now found himself clinging to it in hopes of repeating it back to you.

The people around him continue to speak of you, and he knows that his selfishness will use it to his advantage. Your life out of the arena would be filled with comments like these, and the repercussions of them, the work and practical slavery of them, not one ever being your fault. But even through all of it, he still wants you to live. He wants you to come home and have a house across from his and beside Mags’. He wants to keep giving you swimming lessons until you feel confident to go into the water without him. He wants to teach you how to fish like he and his father used to do. He wants to take you into the market and show you all his favorite places to get food. He wants to watch you thrive and grow beyond these games and forget about all the bad things. His want for your happiness, his need for your presence to return… It's what drives him.

He doesn’t linger on the screen for too much longer before he continues making his rounds.

The looks on the other tribute's faces when you offer them a piece of split open fish is hilarious. You can’t help but giggle. You have to sit for a moment and think, because no, other districts probably don’t just tear open a fish and eat it. How strange, that the tributes can be so different in culture, but still all the same.

You’ve grown up eating fish, grown up being around the smell and feeling the texture. It doesn’t bother you because it is familiar, and mundane.

They eventually sucked it up and tried some, knowing that by tomorrow they would have to eat it anyway.

“It’s not terrible, could use some salt,” Rodey joked around, twisting his face into different expressions with every bite he took.

“My m-mama cooks fish better than a-anyone I’ve ever met. Bakes it with lemon juice a-and pepper.” You smiled, willing yourself to remember your mother and her home cooked meals.

She hadn’t been able to cook in very large quantities lately, one of the primary reasons you’d been hungry so often.The loss of your dad’s paycheck was bound to take a toll.

“Sounds pretty good to me,” He laughed, leaning his shoulder into yours playfully. His attempts at affection were becoming more pronounced as the day went on. Offering you his hand to step out of the river, handing you one of the blankets to dry off with, his lingering touches and prolonged stares that lasted just a bit too long. You didn’t mind it. He made being in this hellhole a decent experience. You’re going to die anyways, might as well enjoy the time you have left.

Out of nowhere, Lukas’ yell of warning stirred everyone.

“Lyra, watch out!”

But it was too late. There was a long and colorful snake that had just sunk its teeth into her arm. Lukas immediately grabbed one of the short swords and cut it in half, ridding her of the animal… but the damage had already been done.

“What was that thing?” She grabbed her arm in pain, writhing around on the ground after feeling the spread of its venom in her veins. It turned them dark, the webbing of black inky venom had already sunk too far into her system.

“Lyra,” Rodey tried to still her movements, her screams of terror going in one ear and out the other. Lukas rummaged through the backpacks, along with you, to try and find some of that healing ointment that the sponsors had given you the day before. You’d found it at the bottom of the last pack, turning around quickly and trying to help her.

“Hold her still,” Lukas told Rodey, opening the canister, and applying some of the medical treatment over the entry wound, but it didn’t do anything. She still shook like a leaf, and wasn’t stopping.

You knelt down and grabbed one of the bandage rolls from the same pack, trying to tie off her arm and create a tourniquet from it. The venom didn’t spread as fast, but it was still going, slowly reaching the top of her arm as it crawled over every vein she had. She had stopped screaming, but took your arm with her other hand. She pulled your forwards, and your eyes widened momentarily in fear.

“Take it off, please,” she cried, her voice now slightly hoarse from the screams. You shook your head, about to protest, but she nodded. “I’m one less person to kill. Take it off.”

You looked at Lukas and Rodey, and they looked upset, but didn’t tell you anything. They didn’t know what to say. They had been happy to have this girl as an ally, but this is the hunger games. All will die but one, and this is Lyra’s time.

You looked back to her, your eyes welling up with tears. With a heavy heart, you untied the bandaging, letting the venom spread quickly again. Her flailing movements and screaming returned, but you had to step back, turning away and ducking your head into Rodey’s shoulder to keep her out of your eyeline. Once again the screaming stopped, and you looked back… Lyra had a look of peace in her now still eyes. She was gone, and the cannon fired synonymously after. You didn’t stop crying, and neither Rodey nor Lukas said anything to you about it. You felt like it was you. You felt like you’d killed her…

That’s the thing about mercy. It isn’t always about showing restraint, or holding back. Sometimes, it’s about giving in, and letting things take their course.

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn

#finnick odair x oc #finnick imagine #finnick odair thg #thg finnick #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair imagine #sam claflin #sam claflin x reader #the hunger games #thg series #thg #katniss everdeen

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