#starting with the people i personally know who do this shit

[l0vergirls]

take the reins

you've dug too deep, but there doesn't seem to be a downside to that.

batfam x reader

wc: 1382

a/n: i started watching mr. robot (plz no spoilers im literally on the 3rd episode) and fell in love with it and .. started thinking !!!.. & this is lowkey set up like the start of a series, but i'll see how it goes considering i have nothing plannef at all. .. pls do send asks about this story and this reader since i would love love love to expand on it hehe

It was as if time had stopped for a moment.

You found out a lot of secrets. Secrets that can put people behind bars. What do you do with those? Send in an anonymous tip to the rare non corrupt cop, of course. You like to think of it as being a non-violent vigilante. Instead of running around Gotham in a costume and beating the bad guys within an inch of their life, you sit comfortably behind your computer screen and dig.

You dig for anything and everything you can find on everyone you encounter. Why? Maybe it's the unrelenting feeling of needing control, or the fear of simply not knowing.

By breaking something down to its source code, you're baring it all; the rights, the wrongs, everything that makes or breaks you. You won't get caught off guard if you just know how something— someone works.

Sometimes, you find nothing noteworthy. Your neighbor in 405, for example. The first time you had passed her, she sneered at you. That was good enough reason to hack her.

The woman at 405 is Emma Davis, aged 35, 5'7, date of birth: May 15th. Studied at NYU, worked a desk job at some company in Star City before getting relocated to Gotham. Yeah, I wouldn't be ecstatic either. Brings home a different person every week. Occasionally smokes weed. Also your occasional hook up. Don't make decisions while intoxicated.

Emma Davis is just a run of the mill office worker, with the same vices as most people. Nobody special.

But this? This could get you in serious shit, if you aren't in for it already.

Bruce Wayne, date of birth: February 19th, 6'2, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, adoptive father of multiple children, and... crime fighting vigilante at night.

Bruce Wayne is Batman.

It wasn't hard to connect the dots after uncovering the man behind the cowl; you figured all his children were Robins at one point. Even the dead one. Except the dead one isn't really dead, is he?

Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne— all crime fighting vigilantes. What a family. You wonder who else you can unmask.

Fuck, you need to go home. Doing this at a coffee shop was a mistake, but damn it, their connection was fast. Too many people, too great a chance of a breakdown.

Close all the tabs, all the windows, scrub yourself clean of all evidence of intrusion. Don't leave a trace.

Shut down the laptop. Leave.

The sun is still out, they wouldn't be around yet. Everyone knows they all work at the dead of night.

You drown out the meaningless conversations around you, and you're on autopilot, heading to the apartment that you call home.

<>

The Waynes pride themselves on their secrecy. Hiding their vigilante alter egos behind carefully crafted lies. They built walls as tall as the buildings with Bruce's name plastered across the front.

It was a little too late when Alfred Pennyworth received an alert from the Batcomputer. Alfred sent all the vigilantes a message, and they came running in. After all, a security breach is detrimental to all of them.

The butler found a location, The Last Drop. A café right in the middle of the city.

Bruce looked through all of the files, recordings, reports— everything. The hacker didn't take anything, and didn't make copies. He deduced that whoever it was simply read.

That's no good either. Someone out there is aware of who they are, who the man under the mask is.

"Alfred, pull up CCTV footage at The Last Drop at the time of the hack."

On the screen were the grainy videos of the café, with at least 6 different angles. It was fairly crowded, filled with busybodies coming and going through the door. With 7 people on their laptops, they could narrow down the search for the culprit. But not by much.

Until two figures left the café at the same time, approximately a few minutes after the breach, but neither of them were sitting next to each other.

It was one or the other.

Tyler Hess, banker. Went to school in the city, stayed in the city. Clean records, comes from an upper middle class family. Nothing of note.

[Y/N] [L/N], cybersecurity engineer at LabyrinthTech, and one of the more favored employees. Born and raised in Gotham, graduated college a year early, and by all accounts, highly intelligent. Clean records, but skilled enough to be the one behind the hack.

"Well, I think we found our suspect. What're you gonna do about it?" Jason bristled, apprehensive that this person knew all about him.

"'You'? What, you've got your own plan?" Dick retorted.

"Maybe. Not like I'm gonna hurt the little thing," he spat. It was invasive enough that you'd hacked into their records, he thinks a little scare is warranted.

Bruce interrupted, "No, I'll deal with this. They accessed our data for a reason."

<>

It was inevitable that one of them was gonna pay you a visit tonight.

After locking yourself in the apartment, you figured a quick nap would be a good distraction from it. And it was, for a couple hours. Upon waking, you walked into the living room and lo and behold, vengeance himself was standing in your apartment.

"Can't say I didn't expect this, really," you spoke carefully, avoiding his gaze.

He grunted, "Then you know why I'm here. Why'd you do it? What do you gain from figuring out our identities?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow moving across your window.

"Nothing. I just got curious. All billionaires are shady, and they're all hiding something. You were, by far, the most suspicious," you let out a breath. "Don't worry, that's not what anyone else thinks, at least not anyone that can do what I do,"

You hear another voice joining the conversation.

"Do what? Invade people's privacy? You should really be careful where you stick your nose in, hacker."

If looks could kill, you'd be dead ten times over. God, this guy's intense even through that helmet.

Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, date of birth: August 16th, date of death: April 27th, 6'0, occasional smoker, former Robin. Likes pot roast.

Batman— no, Bruce Wayne interjected, "Suspicious?"

"Might just be me, but I found it hard to believe the richest man in the world would be throwing so much money into this dump of a city without an ulterior motive," you look at one of the ears on his cowl, it was almost cute, "Every other rich guy did. Whatever money they put out, it came back to them ten times bigger. Nobody really felt for this city."

That was your angle? The two men went still at your somber admittance. Sure, Gotham wasn't the best city, but that's why they did what they did, wasn't it? They had the slightest urge to show you that they really did care. And perhaps show off a bit.

Jason shifted, "You did it because of a gut feeling?"

You shrugged, "It was right, wasn't it? Something was up, just not... in the way I expected,"

It wasn't everyday you uncover a vigilante that turned out to be Gotham's beloved billionaire.

"Anyway, congratulations on not being an entirely bad guy. 'm not gonna tell anyone," you murmured, "not like anyone's gonna believe me,"

You see Red Hood look at Batman, a silent conversation was, no doubt, occurring.

The two vigilantes head for your window— do these guys ever use the front door?

Bruce turns to you, "Try not to do it again,"

"No promises," you huffed. "But your defenses could use some work. Comms, body cams, and other recorded footage— they were just there."

Red Hood's helmet glinted as he tilted his head at you. You shivered.

"Right, won't do it again," and that was that.

It was like they were never here.

What a night.

<>

You scrutinized the letter in your hands.

A job offer for a position you've never interviewed for. At Wayne Enterprises.

Batman works quick, that's for sure.

The pay was good, very good. You reckon there wasn't a single complaint about that.

Hm, they're making sure you're under their watch. If you were a threat, you'd be easier to keep an eye on. Easier to control.

You weren't one to give up control, but potentially having access to the city’s… well, everything, was something too tempting to give up.

Looks like LabyrinthTech was losing their best employee.

[angelic-omega]

It’s in moments like these I’m glad my very specific day to day aesthetic features “pure” looking whites, pinks, and tans as well as pretty cross necklaces and chokers! Very glad to be a person who loves the Bible as a book and owns several bibles for my own safety!

Glad for once that I don’t pass as well as a man as I do a woman and very glad that aligns with my birth sex. Very glad for once I haven’t got any surgery scars to out me, glad I’m semi closeted and only a few people know I’m trans at all irl. What was once sad and seen as paranoid is now becoming an asset.

I told people years ago this is where it was headed and nobody listened but maybe I should have screamed louder. Nonetheless I hope it doesn’t become as bad as it’s sounding, but if it does we have to fight back. We have to do whatever we can and I suggest you start going to libraries or researching online.

Writing shit down in a notebook and keep a physical copy on how to do things. Shit could get really scary but I’m hoping it doesn’t. Remind yourself the world isn’t ending…it just feels that way

reminders for today:

if you or someone you know might need it in the next few years, purchase plan b. the shelf life of plan b is 4 years, and we might not be able to access it as easily as we can now in the days ahead.

if you are larger/plus size: go online and purchase ella instead of plan b. plan b is less effective if you aren’t under 160 pounds.

if you can, purchase books that project 2025 is looking to ban.

mass deportations are starting. if you see ice vehicles or agents, yell ice raid and la migra as loud as you can.

if someone asks who you voted for, keep your mouth shut. they’re fishing for traitors.

if anyone, anyone at all asks about your neighbors or their legal status in the us, you know nothing. don’t be the reason that their family is separated.

if anyone asks about your religion or lack thereof, keep it vague. this administration will look for any excuse to persecute you.

your friends are trans or queer? for the next four years they’re not. don’t expose anyone’s status as a trans or queer person to anyone else, even if you think you can trust them.

did someone you know get an abortion? no, they didn’t. they were never pregnant.

in short, don’t be a snitch, and keep to yourself these next four years. we’ll make it through this even if it seems hopeless at times.

we can survive this. we’ve survived before, and we’ll survive again.

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’ve reached your breaking point with Oscar, but an unfortunate grand prix changes everything you thought you wanted. 

WORD COUNT: 10.3k

WARNINGS: Conversations about sex and but no actual smut, degradation, angst. Mentions of cheating. Oscar is literally horrible. Mention of unhealthy family dynamics. Lots of cursing. Pain, so much pain. Mention of injury. I’m so sorry for all the emotional suffering this chapter will cause. 

TAGLIST: @at-a-rax-ia @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Accept message request from Lando_Norris?

Your fingers hovered over the “accept” button, nervous but curious. What would Lando ever want to talk to you about?

He had avoided you like the plague since that night in Italy, and you hardly blamed him. But as far as you knew, no one except you and Nicole knew that Lily was no longer in the picture; still, what would have changed to cause Lando Norris, of all people, to be messaging you at night?

“Who are you texting?” 

You jumped, not having noticed that Oscar had turned over to face you, seemingly unable to sleep.

“No one,” you said. “Just scrolling.”

Oscar confirmed your suspicions. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” you said, short and annoyed. 

Oscar didn’t respond, instead just moving on top of you, holding your chin in his hands to force you to look at him.

“You can’t even sleep until I fuck you like the little whore you are, huh?” He leaned down to kiss your neck, lips grazing over where only hours before he had left dark marks in the supple skin.

“Get off me, Oscar,” you said, and he immediately pulled back.

“You okay?” he asked.

You weren’t okay. In fact, you were furious. “You realize that you never even asked me if I was okay with you talking to me like that?”

The look in his eyes said only two words: Oh shit.

“YN, I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of it like that. Shit, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to treat me with respect.”

“I thought you liked it?” he said, running his fingers through his hair out of nervousness.

You sat up, the anger burning within you. You hadn’t planned to confront Oscar so soon after what you had overheard, but now that you’d gotten started, there was no stopping you. 

“That’s not the point. Maybe I’m tired of feeling like your personal sex toy, Oscar. Oh, but I forgot. My feelings aren’t your problem.”

Oscar exhaled angrily. “Is that really what this is about?”

You just looked at him, bewildered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked.

He began, “Look, I don’t know what you think you heard—”

“I heard you talking shit about me on the phone to your own mother.”

“It wasn’t like that, YN.”

“Then what was it like? What’s your excuse now?”

Oscar tried to begin, his mouth opening with no words coming out. He truly didn’t know what to say. “It’s been a hard time.”

“I know. I’m well aware, Oscar. Because I made your feelings my problem for years.”

“I know, and I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.”

“I’m not making excuses. I’m just trying to explain it to you.”

“Of course, you want to talk now that I won’t give you sex anymore,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh my God,” Oscar huffed, and it took every ounce of your strength not to curse him out then and there. “You act like I’m some fucking villian. You can’t get mad at me for fucking you when you wanted this too.”

“But how do you know that, Oscar? How do you know what I want? Have you ever asked me what I want?” Tears began prickling at the edge of your eyes. “You haven’t, because you don’t care.”

Oscar looked at the wall, his jaw tense. “I’m not doing this right now.”

“Am I not even deserving of an honest conversation?” you said, the tears now flowing down your cheeks. It had been years since he’d seen you cry, but Oscar wouldn’t even look at you. 

You got up from the bed and started changing from your pajamas to your regular clothes. “If you don’t want to talk, fine. I can’t make you. But I’m going home.”

“YN—”

“Leave me alone,” you said, grabbing your purse and exiting the bedroom. You heard him call for you again, but you ignored his pleas, walking ahead out of the apartment and to your car.

When you slid into the driver’s seat, you finally broke down, resting your head against the steering wheel. No thoughts went through your head. You weren’t much of a crier, so when you finally gave in, it was more of an act of your body giving up.

So you took a few minutes to compose yourself before driving the short distance home through the streets of Monaco, a place you’d grown to love. But his presence was everywhere. The car. The streets. Your apartment. Oscar was inescapable.

And when you felt your phone buzz as you sat with a cup of tea on the balcony an hour or so later, this reality was confirmed. He was calling. 

You didn’t answer the first call, or the second. But by the third you knew that your only options were to turn your phone off, block him, or answer.

Well, what did you have to lose?

“What do you want?” you asked upon picking up the call. 

“I’m sorry, YN. Can we talk?”

“Say whatever you’re going to say.”

He paused. “In person? I’m in the hallway.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please?” he asked. You sighed. Why could you never say no to this man?

“Fine. Give me a sec.” You hung up the call, took another deep breath, and opened the front door before immediately turning around to go back to your balcony. You couldn’t bear to look at him, and you welcomed the sound of the soft waves lapping at the harbor as a buffer.

He sat down beside you, and even before any words were said, you felt the tears returning. Something about this felt…final. And your intuition had hardly ever been wrong before. 

“YN, I’m so sorry. When I get frustrated I say things I don’t mean. I was really out of line earlier.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, unable to truly accept his apology.

He continued, “And you’re right. I shouldn’t have just assumed that all the rough stuff was okay. And I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

You waited a moment for him to continue speaking, but he didn’t. “Is that all you have to say?”

“I just…don’t know what else you want me to say.” You looked over to him. His head was hung low, like a child in trouble at school. Not like a man who was taking accountability for his actions.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

“What?” he asked. 

You just stared at him for a moment, gathering the courage to ask your question.

“Did you talk to Lily like that?”

“Huh?” he echoed.

“Did you call her all those names? Degrade her?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s…personal. I don’t think Lily would appreciate me talking about it.”

“She didn’t appreciate me being in your life, either. But look how that turned out,” you said, the malice lingering on every word. 

Your statement cut a little too deep for comfort. But Oscar finally relented, answering, “...I would, sometimes. She didn’t care for it. But I just…get frustrated a lot. It helps me get all that pent up energy out. Half the time I don’t even think about what I’m saying.”

You hummed. The implication of his words hung in the air; you were a relief for his frustration, a thoughtless passtime. 

When you didn’t respond, he got nervous. “Did I…hurt you?”

“Not physically, no,” you answered, your eyes never moving from the sight of the harbor in the distance. “But I don’t think you really care.”

“Of course I care.”

“No, you don’t.” Your lip quivered. You tried to swallow the tears that came up, but you couldn’t.

“No, don’t cry,” Oscar said, reaching out to embrace you, but you avoided him, getting up to lean on the railing. He followed you, this time not offering any comforting touch. 

“What the fuck are we doing, Oscar?” you said, barely able to get the words out. He grasped for words but wasn’t able to find them before the flood of emotions spilled from you. 

You began, “I used to think that the fabric of our lives was…like, sewn together. Like we were destined to always be in each other's lives. But ever since the breakup I’m so afraid that everyone who ever warned me about you was right. I feel like all these years you’ve just been using me, stringing me along so you could have someone there when things don’t work out. Like I’m just your backup plan. Like I’m not even good enough for you to treat me like a human being.”

“You really feel like I’m using you?” Oscar asked, his surprise horrifically genuine. “Was I just using you when I went out of my way to call you every week for 4 years when I was away in school, even during exams and races? When I got you this place because I wanted to live close to my best friend?” His tone went from gentle to frenzied—not angry, but desperate, like he couldn’t even fathom it. “I mean, YN, what, did you want me to cheat on my girlfriend with you?”

You looked up at him, and he realized again that he had messed up again.

“No, that’s not what I wanted. I’d never do that to Lily because you know it’s been done to me.”

“I know, and was I not there for you when you needed me?” In a way, Oscar was right. When you had broken things off with your unfaithful ex, Oscar was the first to your rescue, staying with you for days while you could barely even function. “YN, what else do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest about what’s going on between us.”

“We’re…. hooking up, I don’t know.”

“Is that all I am to you, a hookup? A friend with benefits?” Your soft tears became full on sobs now. “Oscar, I am in love with you! You are the love of my life. And you can’t tell me that you haven’t known exactly how I felt, for years now.”

“Of course I knew,” he whispered. 

“Then why would you do this to me? Why would you take advantage of me like this?”

Oscar had started crying now, too. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“This isn’t fair, Oscar.”

“I’m sorry.”

A thick silence fell over the balcony. You knew that the conversation should be over now. There was nothing else you needed to say. But you couldn’t stop yourself from continuing the pointless hurt. 

“Do you even love me?”

“Don’t—”

“Can you even look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that you don’t love me?”

“YN—” 

You didn’t even let him complete his sentence, instead walking back into your apartment and slamming our now cold mug into the sink. “Just go,” you said, your voice stern.

“YN, please—” Oscar said, following you inside the apartment. 

“Go!”

“You want the truth?” Oscar said, raising his voice to you for the first time since you’d ever known him. His eyes now flooded with tears, staining his cheeks. His hair was tousled, his under eye bags puffy and pronounced. He looked like a mess. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is the truth.”

“The truth,” he began, swallowing, his voice cracking as he spoke. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen.”

“No—”

“Yes, YN,” he said, his voice raising again.

“No, fuck you, Oscar, that’s not true!” You were both sobbing messes now. 

“Yes it is,” he begged, his voice ragged.

“Then why would you do this?”

“Because…” he paused, taking a deep breath and sniffling, trying to regain his composure. “Because we were best friends, and you lived with us, and I was so scared of fucking things up.”

“So you went and just found a girlfriend instead?”

“No, it…” he looked away from you and took a sharp exhale. “It wasn’t as simple as that. You…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “It was just…complicated. You were the girl who lived with us, like another sister, I mean, I couldn’t have feelings for you of all people. So I was so scared.”

He looked at the wall, scarating his neck, and continued. “And when I met Lily, it was all just…simple. Everyone liked her, she was nice, she’s smart. When I brought her home she fit right in, the fans loved her. She was everything I needed her to be, y’know?” He exhaled. 

His gaze fell to the floor and lingered as he continued. “I didn’t love her at first. I mean, I liked her, she was great, but it was more about just…filling a need, I guess. But I did fall in love with her later. I tried to love her with my whole heart, I really did. I thought that what I felt for you would just go away but obviously it didn’t. And then she fucking left me. As she should, honestly.”

Oscar nervously looked around the room until he could no longer avoid your piercing gaze, face frozen in disbelief.

“You’re horrible, Oscar.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“You used me. You used Lily. And all of this from the very beginning was about… my family? I’m sorry you all had to take me in because no one else would. I’m sorry I didn’t go to a fancy boarding school in London. I’m sorry that my parents are two pieces of shit that didn't want to take care of me when I was a literal child.”

“It’s not that—”

“But it is. That’s what you said.”

“It’s not you, YN. I mean, it was, but we’re not kids anymore. I love you. It was just… awful circumstances.”

“And now? What’s your excuse? I cut off my parents. And Lily fucking left you. So why are you just using me now?”

“It’s just too much right now. The breakup, the championship…I know if I try, I’ll just fuck it up. I lost Lily, I can’t lose you too.”

“Why? Because then you’ll have no one to warm your bed when you’re sad?”

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone that you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with!”

“You’re right, I don’t. Because the person I want to spend the rest of my life with is you, Oscar. But you don’t want me. You never have. I’m your backup plan until something better comes along. That’s all I’ve ever been. I’m not good enough for you, you don’t love me. I don’t even know who you are any more.”

“You said I was the love of your life,” Oscar said, his voice lowered now. 

“You are. But I’m not yours. I don’t care what you say you feel. If you really love someone, you don’t treat them like that.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s all I can say.”

You let out a shaky breath, exhausted of all energy from the fighting. You didn’t even have it in you to be angry anymore. 

“We shouldn’t do this. We should just go our separate ways and be done with it.”

“No, YN—”

“You have a championship to focus on, don’t you?” you said. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said through his tears. “I need you.”

“I’ll finish out my employment contract through the end of the season. You can sell the apartment. I’ll pay back Mum for anything she had to spend on me when we were younger.”

“YN, please,” he begged. 

“Don’t, Oscar,” you said, your voice soft now. “Just let me go.”

“Can I kiss you?”

The correct answer should be no. You should have told him to get the fuck out of your apartment and never come back. But it was Oscar. 

You didn’t answer him, instead just walking up to him and embracing him, letting him hold you in his strong arms as his lips met yours one last time. His lips were salty with tears, but for once his touch was soft and gentle.

When you pulled away, he stayed close to you, pressing his forehead down to yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Go home. You’ve got a flight to catch in the morning.”

You could call in sick to the United States Grand Prix in Miami; Oscar could not. 

Well, theoretically, he could. God knows the reserve drivers would be happy to take his place and show off in front of the teams that were always scouring for new blood. But he couldn’t back down now. Not with a trophy looming so ominously over his head.

And especially not in Miami. Everyone hated Miami. Everyone except Lando, that is. 

And as Oscar mindlessly paced the paddock back and forth, praying to God that no journalists would pester him for an interview, he couldn’t escape the reminder of his teammate’s victory. 

“Well, things seem to be heating up here in Miami! The race continues between McLaren teammates Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris in this early battle for the World Driver’s Championship. Piastri is putting in a valiant effort, but who can forget Lando Norris’ first victory here last year? It’s incredible to see how far he has come in such a short amount of time—”

He really needed to stop walking past the commentator’s box. 

This is usually when Oscar would try to find you in the paddock, or send you a text from halfway across the world. But he couldn’t do that anymore; you hadn’t quite barred him from communication, but what could he say?

He just needed to focus. Perform. Drown himself in the work. That’s what he told himself as he made his way back to the McLaren garage, away from the prying eyes of the media and the haunting words of the commentators. That’s what he told himself as he slipped on a set of headphones and nodded along as his race engineer spoke, acting as if he was paying attention. 

That’s what he told himself as he climbed into the car, took a deep breath, and pressed his foot to the gas. 

Thousands of miles away, in Monaco, you were supposed to be having dinner. Actually, you were supposed to be in Miami, taking photos of Oscar in all his glory.

But you couldn’t face him. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t even sleep.

In the corner of your living room sat a box with Oscar’s old stuff in it. You stared at it as if it had the eyes to stare back. Your hand mindlessly swirled your fork around your remaining food, now cold and mostly uneaten.

Why did this feel like a breakup?

You wanted to scream, but you’d already gotten noise complaints from the fight days prior. So instead, your apartment was deadly quiet. 

You sighed, moving to your bedroom and collapsing in the soft covers, having decided to give up and indulge yourself with a night of bed rotting. But even your bed felt empty. The sheets held a faint trace of Oscar’s scent. It would come out with a simple wash, but laundry was the furthest thing from your mind right now. 

You needed a distraction. You grabbed your phone and immediately went to social media to mindlessly scroll. 

But in your notifications was one you had nearly forgotten about: that message request from Lando. 

You opened it without even thinking, unfortunately sending the read receipt even though you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now. 

Hey, not to be weird but do you know if anything’s going on with Oscar? He’s been acting odd recently.

You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t escape your best friend. 

The message was sent a while ago—when the pair were in Bahrain, actually. You should have just deleted it and acted as if you never saw it. But you felt horribly awkward leaving Lando on read. 

Yeah, he and Lily broke up :(

Was the frown really necessary? Should you say more? You didn’t have the energy to think, sending the message without much fanfare. You locked your phone and put it back on your nightstand. 

But only a few moments later, it buzzed. Another message from Lando.

But…Lando was in Miami? At the circuit? He should be driving, not texting you. You opened your phone and clicked on the notification. 

Damn, that’s rough. I thought they were endgame. You in the paddock?

You raised an eyebrow. Why would Lando Norris, of all people, want to know where you are?

No, I’m back in Monaco. 

Another nearly instant reply. Ah, I was hoping to make a cameo on Oscar’s Instagram haha. You’ll be at Imola though?

This whole interaction felt…weird.

I will! I’ll be sure to get some good team shots lol

You tried to match his energy with your reply, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that this wasn’t right. But as you finally did put your phone down and retire for the night, your mind kept racing, coming to wildly different conclusions.

Maybe Lando did want to be friends. Maybe, now that Lily was out of the picture, he felt more comfortable around you. Maybe he was just trying to smooth things over with Oscar in the championship battle. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe you were so used to Oscar’s lying and manipulation that you couldn’t imagine someone talking to you just for the sake of friendship. 

You huffed to yourself as the thought crossed your mind. You pulled your blanket up and buried yourself in it, as if the thoughts were something physical you could hide from. You fell into a tense sleep.

Oscar couldn’t sleep, though. He could barely sleep back when he had you at his beck and call, let alone when you all weren’t speaking to each other.

How had he fucked up so badly? He brought his hands to his face and roughly exhaled. Like you, he had resigned himself to spend his night scrolling, until he too noticed an unanswered message. 

Except it wasn’t from Lando. It was from Lily. As if things couldn’t get any worse. 

She was brief and to the point.

I just wanted to let you know I’ll be at Imola for a company event. I doubt we’ll run into each other. Hope you and YN are well. 

Her words stung. The professionalism where there once was warmth and love. The perfectly petty dig at him and you, assuming that he had already moved on (though, she wasn’t exactly wrong). 

He wanted to throw his phone off his hotel room balcony. From the slight crack in the blinds, he could see palm trees, and the ocean far off in the distance. And he knew that back in Monaco, you’d be staring at the same moon, hearing the water in the distance as it lulled you to sleep. The miles between you during race weekends had always been numerous, but the distance wasn't—not until now, at least. 

He slammed his phone on the nightstand and took yet another sleeping pill. 

It was going to be a horrible week. 

And, unfortunately, the morning wasn’t much better. Another oh so friendly interaction with his teammate. 

“Hey, Oscar, wait up,” the Brit called, jogging to catch Oscar as they both entered the paddock. Oscar slowed his pace but didn’t stop, hopeful that this would be a clear sign that he wasn’t here for conversation.

When he did catch up, Oscar just gave Lando a small nod as a greeting. 

“Hey, I, uh, heard about you and Lily. I’m so sorry, mate.”

Oscar turned, making a confused and irritated face. “Who told you?”

“YN. Well, I asked her if you were okay.”

The Aussie made a small grumbling noise. 

“I was just worried, you know. You just seemed like you were going through some stuff. You know I’m always here if you need me, right?”

“I need to beat you,” Oscar said, but his words had no bite to them. There was no snappy anger anymore, just exhaustion. 

“Of course,” Lando said, smiling, as if he thought his teammate’s championship ambitions were nothing more than comic relief. “But for real, man, I’m sorry and I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said, though he didn’t really mean it. He just wanted to be alone.

In Monaco, you were breaking your first cardinal rule of a breakup (even a friendship breakup) and turning on your TV to watch Oscar drive. 

You had managed to go without watching the free practices and even quali, but you couldn’t bring yourself to not watch the Grand Prix. 

And it was good that you tuned in, because he won. 

You nearly threw your phone across the room when he finally passed the checkered flag. You had been practically holding your breath since he secured the lead in a masterfully timed pit stop mid race, beating out Max Verstappen to bring home his second win of the season. 

So, maybe he wouldn’t hate Miami as much anymore. 

Your phone—secured now on your nightstand to prevent any race-related breakage—loomed in the distance as you debated sending him a congrats text. It wasn’t like you all had gone through a true breakup; you weren’t even together. But you knew you couldn’t let yourself end up in his bed again. You knew that he was a broken man, and you couldn’t fix him. 

So your friendship had come to occupy this odd liminal space in which neither of you knew exactly where you stood. At some point, this would have to be discussed, but clearly neither of you had learned your lesson on healthy communication. 

You wanted to tell your best friend that you were proud of him. Was that such a bad thing?

It wouldn’t be, if you could ignore that voice now echoing in your mind.

Since when are her feelings my problem?

You nearly gagged at the thought. Yeah, you weren’t texting him.

And back in Miami, Oscar anxiously awaited a text that would never come. 

“Oscar, mate, quit staring at your phone and let’s celebrate!” Lando teased, patting his teammate on the back. 

Oscar just sighed, opening his phone again to find no messages from you. 

“She’s not coming back,” Lando said. “So either you get drunk enough to call her, or you get drunk enough to find someone to replace her. Either way, you’re getting drunk tonight.”

“Really, Lando?” 

“She destroyed a five year relationship over some stupid shit, and you just won another grand prix. So yes, I think you should get fucked up with me tonight!”

“Don’t talk about Lily like that, mate. And besides, I’m not even waiting on her.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Then who are you waiting on?”

Oscar’s defenses were wearing down, even while sober. “You know who.”

“And you still want me to believe that you two aren’t hooking up?”

“It’s…complicated.” 

“Spill.”

Under normal circumstances, Oscar was never the type to discuss his personal life at work, much less with his rival for the championship. But as the plan of going out was abandoned in favor of a nice bottle of Cuban rum ordered to the room, Oscar found himself spilling his secrets like a teenage girl at a sleepover.

“And then I just…” he hiccuped, “I told her everything. And she didn’t believe me, and I don’t blame her, but it fucking hurt, you know? And we were just screaming at each other, she said we should go our separate ways. What am I supposed to say to that? And I still haven’t heard from her, but her and Lily are gonna be at Imola. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“Mate,” Lando said, slurring his words, “You fucked this up worse than I fucked up the championship last year.”

The two drivers laughed—otherwise, they’d have to cry at the peril poor Oscar had put himself in. 

But the time flew by, and soon enough Oscar found himself on a flight to Italy, which he secretly prayed would crash so that he could avoid this entire charade. 

Of course, on all your respective flights, the feeling was mutual; neither you, Oscar, nor Lily really wanted to be there. But duty called, and you were nothing if not professional. 

It was an odd place to be; on one hand, you loved this job. It was fun getting to explore the world with your best friend and get paid to take pictures and make silly videos. The electric atmosphere of the paddock was one that had always felt like home, like you belonged there.

On the other hand, every time you thought about seeing Oscar again, you wanted to puke. 

Thankfully, when you did inevitably see him again, your lunch did not resurface. You operated like a robot; no banter, no friendliness, just stark professionalism. 

And Oscar didn’t know what was worse; not having you there, or seeing you act like a stranger. 

The one silver lining, at least, was that Lily was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t handle those emotions too. 

So, again and again throughout the weekend, he repeated that manta to himself: Just focus on work. Just focus on work. 

He said it to himself one last time before he hopped in the car for qualifying. Just focus. 

But he just couldn't. From the seat of his car, the chaos of the pit lane and the gaggles of photographers were just blurs, unidentifiable blobs. I had always comforted him to think that one of those was you, watching him. Now it was haunting. 

And somewhere, buried away in the paddock, Lily was there. Oscar could imagine it; her polished and professional demeanor, almost perfect, as she schmoozed up to that one executive from the company that he swore always had a thing for her. 

He wanted to scream. Instead, he had to pull the car into the garage as the session was stopped due to an accident. It was raining heavily. Extra caution was advised, his engineer explained, but Oscar couldn’t focus. Not because of his thoughts—although, those certainly didn’t help—but rather because of what he saw across the garage.

You were chatting with Lando. 

“Hey, YN!” Lando greeted as he hopped out of his car, seeing you in the back of the garage taking photos. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too,” you said, though it wasn’t particularly true. 

“Looks like we’re going to be a while,” he said looking over his shoulder at the storm brewing in the distance, “want to walk the paddock with me and get some candids?” 

“Sure,” you agreed, though the request confused you. 

The two of you left the garage and Oscar felt like punching the wall. 

At first you walked in silence, your only emitted sound being the soft click of your camera. It was kind of pointless, though, since you were supposed to be getting shots of Oscar. You knew this. Lando knew this too.

“Can I ask you something, Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there any reason that you’ve been pretty…friendly lately?” you asked, controlling your tone so it came off as genuinely curious rather than suspicious.

“Honestly,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck with nervousness, “I felt really bad about everything that happened on the trip. I was afraid I might’ve scared you off.”

Well, that didn’t make much sense. Lando was the one who had been avoiding you since the trip. But, after dealing with Oscar, you had simply accepted that men in general made no sense. 

“You didn’t,” you said. “And, I mean, the only reason we ended up like that is because Lily was trying to get rid of me. But, you see how that worked out.” 

“Really? She didn’t have the balls to tell you to leave her man alone?”

“Not until after you left,” you said, exhaling in exhaustion.

“Damn,” he said, looking away from you. You snapped a few photos of his candid side profile, admiring how the light hit his curls just right. “You know, the only reason I ran off in the club that night like that was because I didn’t want to get involved in all that? I mean, I wasn’t about to steal Oscar’s side chick.” He laughed.  “But from what I hear, things have changed?”

You laughed. “Oscar’s side chick?”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t sleeping together?”

“Why do you want to know?” you laughed. Was Lando…flirting with you? No. He couldn’t be. He was Lando Norris, the most notorious playboy of the 2025 grid. 

“Aw, c’mon. I want to know the drama!” he teased, flashing his boyish smile. 

“Well, what if I want to know your drama?” you teased back, taking the opportunity to snap a few photos of him as you continued walking. 

“Psh, I’ve got no drama. Just keeping to myself, trying to win.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’re avoiding the question, YN,” he said, smirking. Holy shit, he was flirting with you. But did you really mind? It felt nice to have that playful banter, to see a man who wanted that back and forth more than he just wanted your body. What was wrong with having a little fun?

You sighed and told him the most technical version of the truth. “Oscar never cheated. But you really thought I was sleeping with Oscar and you didn’t say anything to Lily?”

“Wasn’t my business. Besides, I thought it was pretty obvious.” His comment left a bit of a sour taste in your mouth, especially knowing the fears that Lily had confessed to you so long ago.

“No, I wouldn’t do that to Lily,” you said, and it was true. After all, you were both women. 

“And what about Oscar?”

You rolled your eyes. Having a nice conversation with Lando helped you remember how not nice your time with Oscar had been recently. “Oh, fuck him,” you said weakly. 

“Well, did you?”

You paused, unsure of whether or not to confess. “I already told you that he didn’t cheat. Is what, or who, I do in my spare time really any of your business?” you playfully teased.

His lips curled upwards. “I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

The double entendre wasn't missed on you. You glanced over your shoulder, scanning the crowds to ensure that no one was paying too close attention. “You don’t have to worry about me and Oscar. But you know I run his social media, right? So I see all the gossip pages, all the shit you get yourself into. It’s a bold claim to say you’ve got no drama.”

“Oh, darling, they don’t even know the half of it,” he smirked. You all had turned around by now, walking back in the direction of the paddock. The crows were thinner now. 

He continued, “But what about you, huh? You’re all bored with Oscar and now you want some real fun?” He let out a small laugh. “No, you’re not like that. Too much of a good girl.”

“You think I’m too good? I’m here flirting with my best friend’s rival for the championship.”

“Are we flirting, is that was this is?” he asked, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. “I thought we were just having a pleasant conversation, catching up on the gossip.” Unbeknownst to you, Lando had gotten all the gossip from Oscar after their drunken celebration in Miami. But he wanted to see exactly how much you’d reveal to him. 

“Well, sure then. I’m sure you get tired of race talk all day, anyway.”

“You say that like you think race talk is boring. But I’ve seen you at enough races to know better. Don’t play coy, you love it, don’t you? You know more about racing than most of the drivers’ girlfriends.” 

It kind of unnerved you, the way Lando knew exactly how to push your buttons. The subtle you’re not like the other girls implication; both you knew it wasn’t a compliment, but rather a statement meant to rile you up and see how you’d react. And it worked.

Your voice lowered, steady yet quieter. “It’s a bit sexist to assume that women don’t know anything about racing. And knowing more about racing doesn’t make me any better than anyone else.”

“I never said that, love.”

“Hmm, but you thought it.” 

“Are you in my head now?” You playfully rolled your eyes. “So tell me about all the race talk between you and Oscar.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?” you chuckled.

“D’you want it to be?” he smirked. “No, no, really. Tell me what groundbreaking F1 opinions are inside that pretty little head of yours.” Yeah, he was definitely flirting with you. 

“I’ve got nothing groundbreaking,” you said as your smile loosened, contemplating how you wanted to arrange your words. “I think Oscar has a good shot at winning the WDC this year, if he can get out of his own head.”

“And what about me?”

“I think you’ll give him a run for his money. But you care too much about what random people on the internet think,” you said, ending the statement with that on the nose jest.

“You’re probably right,” he smiled. “God, you sounded like my PR manager for a sec there.”

“Not exactly dirty talk, is it?” you joked.

You arrived back at the McLaren garage. Lando walked in first, seeing that Oscar’s back was to you, and positioned himself so that when Oscar looked around, he’d see him instead of you. You were none the wiser. 

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You still haven’t answered my question. How was he?” Lando’s face was plastered with a mischievous grin. 

You playfully hit his shoulder. “Don’t ask me that!” you cooed, though you didn’t mind his closeness, the warmth of his breath on your ear. 

Oscar didn’t like it, though. And when he turned around and saw your back to him, Lando leaned down next to you, and smirking, he wanted to run him over with his car. 

Lando looked up for only a split second, but his eyes met Oscar’s, as if to acknowledge what he was doing. Or, as if to say, yes, I’m doing this, and you can’t stop me. 

Oscar couldn’t handle the audacity of watching Lando flirt with you in front of his own eyes. Thankfully, you were tapped on the shoulder by none other than the new guy, who had broken his extremely expensive camera, and you were called away to help him figure it out. 

Oscar crossed the garage to face Lando, never breaking his line of sight. 

“Oh hey, mate, what’s up?” Lando asked, innocently.

“Why are you talking to YN?”

“Oh, she wanted to take some photos—”

“Don’t talk to YN,” Oscar said, his voice plain but stern. 

“Mate, we were just having a chat. It wasn’t like that. Don’t be so paranoid.”

“I’m serious,” Oscar reiterated. “Don’t cross that line, Lando.”

“Okay, my bad,” Lando said, nervously laughing and carelessly throwing his hands in the air. Oscar still wouldn’t shift his gaze, even as both drivers were called to get back in their cars to resume the qualifying session. 

There was something up about Lando, he could tell. But it’d have to wait. Now, he had a pole to get. 

Well, he tried, but only managed to come in fourth. Lando got pole. Of fucking course. 

Another sleepless night passed with no messages from you. 

And the next morning, there you were as usual, staring at him only through the eye of your camera lens. 

But then, across the garage, you had no problem chatting it up with Lando. He threw you a glimpse of his award winning smirk and Oscar felt violent. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. 

You were doing it to spite him, that was obvious. You’d never be interested in a guy like Lando; too much of a playboy. And honestly, Oscar knew deep down that he deserved this. But it still made him sick to his stomach. 

The feeling only dissipated when it was replaced by that primitive need within him to win. The lights before him went out and reason gave way to instinct. 

Lando bottled the pole, losing the lead to Max after the first corner. Oscar fell back one place, narrowly avoiding a collision between Charles and Lewis, before overtaking them as they struggled to reorient their cars. 

So it was just him, Max, and Lando. He could do this. 

His body moved automatically. He could hear the roar of the engines, the chattering of the radio, and the screaming of the fans in the distance, but in his mind all was quiet. Laps blurred as he sped along the track, pushing inch by inch closer to overtaking Max. 

Eventually he did, getting DRS and flying past the Redbull driver, pushing hard to get a good lead over him. 

All that was left now was his own teammate. 

“Okay Oscar, you’ve got enough space between you and Verstappen,” his race engineer said.

“I want to overtake.”

“A 1-2 is our goal right now—”

“Then he can be 2nd. I want to win.”

Silence befell the radio channel for a moment. 

His engineer returned. “Okay. Papaya rules.”

Papaya rules. The phrase that haunted his dreams. 

There was really no need to use the coded language anymore. The world knew what it meant—race, but keep it clean. Put the team above yourself. Don’t do anything reckless. 

But Oscar was sick of being the good teammate, the one who always let Lando win for the sake of the team. He was tired of being gifted wins. Team orders were bullshit. This wasn’t about McLaren anymore. This was about his pride. This was everything. 

So he pushed harder than he should have. He was wearing his tires out, he knew, but Lando just coasted along, as if nothing was amiss. As if his teammate wasn’t out for blood and gaining on him with every lap. 

Lando glanced in his mirrors and saw Oscar behind him. 

“Oscar’s getting close,” he said to his engineer. 

“We told him papaya rules. Remember, our goal here is a 1-2.”

“He’s gonna wear out his tires.”

“Let’s just focus on keeping P1.”

But Lando knew it wasn’t that simple. This was no longer impersonal racing, just the best of the best competing against each other because it was in their nature to do so. 

No, this was personal now. 

Lando rounded the corner, feeling Oscar hot on his heels, but managed to defend his position. He knew that with DRS enabled at the next stretch, he wouldn’t be able to hold him off. 

But in front of him, he was already close to lapping the backmarkers of the grid.

Oscar could see them in the distance; the familiar teal of Lance Stroll’s Aston Martin, and an even more familiar fumble as he drove erratically due to some mechanical issue with the car. 

Lando slowed down, but Oscar couldn’t react. He swerved, hitting the barrier. 

Back in the garage, the breath left your lungs. 

You couldn’t resist the temptation of watching. You’d slid the headset on after Oscar had driven off, and you’d planned to leave before he got back to the garage and discovered that you’d ever been there. No harm, no foul. The allure of the purring engines and adrenaline-fueled racing was just too much to resist.

But now, hearing the violent scrape of carbon fiber against metal as Oscar’s car screeched along the barriers, your heart sunk into your chest. 

“Are you alright, Oscar?” you heard his race engineer ask, his voice filling your ears. 

But the silence afterwards was deafening. 

“Oscar, can you hear us? Are you alright?” 

All that came through was a metallic gargle of noise, a sign that the radio had been damaged in the impact. There was no way to know if Oscar was hurt or not.

A hush fell on the track as the safety car was brought out. Lando had effectively secured his win, with so few laps remaining. 

Your eyes were glued to the screen, praying to whatever God would listen that Oscar would be okay. You watched as the marshalls rushed to the site of the car, huddling around the lump of broken parts that stood still on the sidelines. 

Because of the force of the crash, the medical car had been deployed as well. You were frozen in place.

You had never been much of a believer in God, but all you could do now was beg.

Please, God. Please let him be okay. If he’s okay I can forgive everything he’s ever done. If he’s okay I will never let him out of my life ever again. Please, God, please let him be safe. 

You chanted the prayer over and over again to yourself as the seconds ticked by like hours. 

Finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you saw the marshalls carrying along an orange-clad form into the medical car. 

You didn’t even think. You just reacted, taking off your headset and booking it towards the medical tent. 

You weren’t the only one there, though. The tent was already swarmed with media, all craning their necks to see Oscar. You pushed your way through to the front, only to be stopped by security, since you had your media pass instead of your usual VIP pass as one of Oscar’s friends. 

You panicked—to the eyes of security, you were just another reporter who was rudely trying to cut through the crowd to get to the injured driver.

“Please let me by,” you pleaded. “I know Oscar—”

“You can wait at the media tent.”

“C’mon—”

“Ma’am, we need you to leave.” You groaned, and you were about to leave before you heard the voice of your savior from out of nowhere. 

“Hey!” he called. You turned your head to see who it was—the familiar, friendly face of Zak Brown. 

He was on the other side of the barrier, but Oscar was still nowhere to be found. 

“Oh, YN, am I glad to see you!” He turned to the security officer. “Let her in.”

“Sir, media personnel are not authorized—”

“She’s VIP, not media.”

“Sir—”

“Do you know who I am?” he said, an unusual sternness in his tone. The security officer glanced down at his pass and silently let you through. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Zak said, his boyish grin returning as he patted you on the back and led you along to the private area where they’d be bringing Oscar any second now. 

You sighed as he pulled the medical curtain closed. 

“Boy, was that a nasty crash,” he said.

“Is he okay?”

“Well, he’s alive. That’s as far as I know.”

Your heart sank again. But as if on cue, you heard the rumble of camera shutters and reporters chattering outside the tent as the marshals escorted Oscar into the tent. When he came up, the room was flooded with medical personnel, pushing you and Zak back to the edge of the curtained-off room. 

A nurse rushed in. “Who’s his emergency contact?” she asked Zak.

“Her,” he said, gesturing to you. You were confused. Since when had Oscar made you his emergency contact? 

“Stay here,” the nurse instructed, but even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move an inch. You resumed your prayers as Zak blabbered on and on, mainly to himself. One thing that you’d learned very quickly about Zak Brown once Oscar had gotten to McLaren is that he really liked to yap. 

As the doctors and nurses filtered in and out of the room, you caught a brief glimpse of Oscar in the hospital bed, his eyes rolled back into his head, slumped over into his shoulder. 

You wanted to wail. 

But it was only a few minutes before everyone began to filter out of the room, creating enough space for you to finally see your friend. And when you did lay eyes on him, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you feared. 

His eyes were closed; an attempt to rest, rather than a state of unconsciousness. 

A nurse at his bedside turned to you. “Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine. We’re going to sedate him and transport him to a hospital, but he’s not gravely injured. He just needs some tests done that we can’t do here.”

You nodded along, not once taking your eyes off Oscar. 

“And, yes, you are his emergency contact, so we’ll need you to come with us. He’s authorized you to make decisions in the event that he's unable to. But that is unlikely, of course.”

“Is he…?” you asked, gesturing towards him. 

“He’s still a little shaken up. The best thing right now is to get him into a calmer environment.”

You nodded. “I’ll make sure that new guy doesn’t lose all your stuff,” Zak quipped, and you threw a smile out towards him. “I’ll meet you all there when we’ve wrapped up here.”

Ah yes, the grand prix was likely still going on outside, and Lando would have to climb the podium and take his P1 trophy home. 

But as you sat in a hospital room in Italy next to your best friend, the podium was the last thing on your mind. 

Oscar was still completely out of it. The doctors had come and gone, confirming that all of his tests had come back normal. No broken bones, no concussion, nothing major. Just a shit ton of bruises and a shock to the system that left him too exhausted to stay awake for more than 15 minutes at a time.

Outside, the sun was setting, but you couldn’t sit still. You held Oscar’s limp hand in your own, tracing patterns into the cold skin. You hadn’t held his hand since you were kids—no, Oscar had held your hands above your head as he pinned you to the wall only weeks ago. 

You flung the memory away. Now wasn’t the time. Besides, you promise you’d forgive all that. 

Either way, you couldn’t focus on that now. Oscar’s eyelashes were fluttering open, his eyes squinting at the fluorescent light above him. 

“Osc!” you said, truthfully too energetic for the occasion. You dropped his hand, got up, and turned off the overhead light, leaving only the swiftly fading daylight from outside the window to illuminate the room. 

He groaned as you sat back down, but still mumbled a small thanks. 

“Where am I?” he asked, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes.

“A hospital in Imola.” 

“Shit,” he sighed. 

“Yeah. You had a pretty bad crash.”

“I remember that,” he said, his throat dry and cracked. He took a sip of water. “Lando brake checked me.”

“Is that what happened? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah. Fucker,” he cursed, his voice dripping with contempt. You didn’t know what to say. 

“How are you feeling?” you finally said, tired of the lingering tension. 

“Awful. Everything hurts.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he said, reaching for his call button to request painkillers. “I’ve missed you.”

It was bold, doing this when he knew you couldn’t exactly be cruel to him. So, instead, you were honest. 

“I’ve missed you too. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you said, reaching forward to smooth his hair away from his sweat-stained forehead. Your touch felt better than any painkiller. “We were really scared.”

“Nah, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” he joked as the nurse arrived and wordlessly administered his meds. He let out a sigh as he felt the painkillers enter his system. “I run on pure spite. A little wall isn’t gonna take me out.”

You gave him a small smile. “You didn’t say anything after the crash,” you said, your voice just a quivering whisper, giving away the true depths of your fear.

“I had the wind knocked out of me. And then, everything just went black, I was fading in and out.”

“I was praying you’d be okay. It was so scary.”

“Hey, I’m okay. A little busted up, but I wasn't exactly a looker anyway, huh?” he joked, a feeble attempt to make you laugh. You sniffled and smiled.

He continued, “Can I use my near-death experience as an excuse for us to make up?”

Your smile dropped and you bit your lip.  “Osc…”

“I just want my friend back,” he said, cutting you off. “Look, I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. Not right now, at least. And I think, after all the shit I did, you wouldn’t want me to anyway. But I miss my friend.”

“I miss my friend, too.” 

Your heart to heart was interrupted by a knock at the door. The same nurse from before poked her head in. “Excuse me?” she asked in an Italian accent, and you looked up. “There is a visitor asking to be let in. She said her name is Lily?”

You couldn’t help the face you made. What on God’s green Earth was Lily doing in Imola?

“Um, yeah, let her in,” Oscar said. He didn’t react, though you scooted away and sat at the edge of your seat, ready to leave at any second. “Stay,” he whispered to you, and you did. 

A few moments later, you saw her walk in, and the atmosphere was thick. 

“Hi Oscar,” she exhaled, grateful to see him okay. He greeted her back, but she didn’t even look at you. You got up to give them a moment, but Oscar reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Don’t go,” he said, and the look in his eyes was impossible to refuse. You tentatively sat back down. 

“How are you feeling?” Lily asked, and the two exchanged pleasant conversation back and forth. You wanted nothing more than to jump out of the window that now showed the sunset over the trees. Normal visiting hours would be ending soon. 

“Well, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” she said, getting up to leave. “I’m glad you’re doing well. You too, YN,” she added on the end, but you didn’t believe it. You gave her a flat but polite smile. 

“Actually, YN, could we have a word?” she asked, cocking her head in the direction of the hallway. 

The look on Oscar’s face told you that this was a horrible idea. But one of you was confined to a hospital bed, and the other wasn’t. You ignored him and followed Lily into the deserted hallway.

She turned to you, voice full of venom. “How long have you been sleeping with Oscar?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she said, plain as day. 

“I’ve told you before, Oscar never cheated on you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You turned your head in confusion. “What are you getting at?”

Lily angrily sighed. “You think that you can just waltz around the paddock talking shit about me with Lando, and that I’m not going to hear about it?”

Had Lily been at the paddock? Or even worse: had she somehow heard you?

“Well, if you actually heard my conversation with Lando, you’ll know that I stood up for you.”

“I thought you were a girl’s girl,” she said, deflecting from your defense.

“I am.”

“Then why were you in bed with my boyfriend 4 days after we broke up?”

“Your ex boyfriend,” you said, meeting her level of venom. “You left him.”

“I just thought, after all that talk, you’d have the decency not to prove me right.”

“Lily, I was honest with you. If you’re mad at Oscar, don’t take it out on me. He’s the one who suggested it. I told him it was a bad idea.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“And I felt horrible about it. So I stopped.” Your voice was sharp. “Who told you any of this?”

“It doesn't matter. I hope you’re happy.”

“I hope you are, too. Genuinely.” You lacked the words to say what you really wanted to. He treats both of us like shit. He used us. I am not your enemy. She wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. She wordlessly walked away, scoffing and mumbling to herself. 

You didn’t say anything either as you walked back into the hospital room and slumped in the chair.

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?” Oscar said.

“Nope.”

“Well, we were in the middle of something…”

Oh, right. The conversation where Oscar was trying to get back in your pants. 

“I’m not going to fuck you, Oscar.” 

“I’m not asking you to.”

“We can let anything lead to that. Not again.”

“I understand,” he said. “I just want my friend back in my life. Like all of that never happened.”

“Could we even do that?” you asked. It felt like a line had been crossed, moving your friendship in a way that couldn’t be undone. 

“I promise. And I know my word doesn’t mean much, but really, I promise. Never again.”

Haven't you promised that you’d forgive him?

“Okay,” you said, “Okay.”

Oscar smiled at you, showing off his bunny teeth. You still loved him. You couldn’t help it. But true to form, you could never stay away.

“Oh, and by the way, congrats on Miami.”

You fell asleep in the chair, having refused to leave Oscar’s side. He’d be discharged in the morning to make his flight back to Monaco, though it was questionable whether or not he’d be able to race in the iconic Grand Prix. 

True to his word, though, Oscar got one final set of visitors in the dead of night.

The first was Zak Brown. 

“Oscar!” Zak yelled, before Oscar shushed and pointed to your sleeping form. You stirred but didn’t fully wake, and Zak placed his hand over his mouth and raised his eyebrows as Oscar let out a quiet laugh.

“Hey Zak,” he said, his voice hushed.

“Glad to see you’re doing better.”

“Yeah, I made it,” he mused. “Hey, what did the FIA say?” Oscar’s phone had died since you had fallen asleep, and his charger had been left at the track.

Thankfully, Zak had brought his (and your) belongings, and he placed the bag at the foot of the hospital bed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the penalty, from the crash?”

“No one got a penalty.”

“But, Lando brake checked me.”

“Lando barely avoided a crash with Stroll.”

“I know, but he didn’t swerve, he slowed down. He had room to swerve, I didn’t. How did no one get a penalty?”

“That's just racing.”

“He intentionally slowed down to stop me!”

“Oscar, I highly doubt that that’s what happened. It was a crowded track, and you all had to react in a split second. These things happen, you know this.” 

Oscar wasn’t at all pleased with this answer, and it was worsened by the appearance of his second visitor: Lando himself.

“Ah, there’s our grand prix winner!” Zak said, giving him a hearty pat on the back. 

Lando smiled, and Oscar wanted to throw up. 

“Had to bring it home for the team,” he said, smiling at Zak. “You doing alright, mate?” he asked. 

Oscar was already tired of people asking him how he was feeling. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Lando gave Stroll an earful after the race.”

“Oh yeah, probably getting fined for that one…”

“Why? I didn’t crash because of Stroll. You brake checked me.” The pain was making Oscar more irritable. He’d need another dose of meds soon. 

“No, Stroll was driving like an idiot out there, I had to slow down.”

“No, you had to move. You’re not stupid. You just didn’t want me to overtake, didn’t you?”

“Okay, boys, let’s save this for the track,” Zak interjected. Oscar just grumbled. “I’ll meet you outside, yeah?” he said to Lando, who nodded but stayed behind. 

The Brit glanced at you, still fast asleep in the chair by Oscar’s bedside. “D’you tire out your babysitter?” he smiled. 

But Oscar was relentless. “Don’t talk about her.”

“I thought you all weren’t on speaking terms?” 

“Lando, mind your business.”

“I don’t know what your problem is, mate.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“I’m not up to anything. I’m just trying to be a good teammate. Jesus, Osc, they should check that you didn’t hit your head too hard, you’re so paranoid.”

Truthfully, Oscar was bluffing. He had a horrible feeling about his teammate, but no evidence to back it up. But his intuition was hardly ever wrong. 

“I ran into Lily after you left,” Lando said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told her you were here.” His tone of voice was so gentle that Oscar began to wonder if maybe he was being too paranoid.

“Yeah, she came by earlier.” 

Lando’s eyes glanced back to your sleeping form, and Oscar felt his anger rise again. He didn’t even want Lando to look in your direction, let alone be speaking to you. 

“Your heart rate is up,” Lando said, gesturing to the monitor that now showed the physical effects of Oscar’s anger.

“Look, Lando,” Oscar said, shifting to sit up in bed. “Stop acting like we’re friends. Stop talking to YN, stop trying to play this buddy-buddy game. We’re here to beat each other.”

“I was just trying to be kind, but I guess if you really don’t want to be friends, I can’t make you.”

“I’m serious. Leave YN alone. Don’t even go there.”

“She’s an adult.”

“And she’s mine.”

Lando laughed. “Seriously? That’s not exactly what she told me.”

The monitor beeped again as Oscar’s heart rate continued to rise. “I don’t care what she told you.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“Try it. See what happens.”

A nurse gently knocked on the door, and Oscar was grateful for the distraction and relief of pain meds. 

“Well,” Lando said, leaning on the door, “I guess I’ll see you all in Monaco.”

[doodledrawsthings]

you. Oh my god, you. (Positive)

listen. Before I had internet access, all I had was 1 hour of allotted browser time, bing image search, and a single dantdm play through of a hat in time that never got finished. I googled fanart and got pretty much nothing, I googled fancomics and got pretty much nothing, but you know what I did end up finding?

your art.

from ages 11-14, my goal in life, in art, was your art. I can’t tell you how much I loved finding random screenshots of your posts, because I was always just so impressed by how clean and consistent your sketches are, how the characters always stay on model, the shape language, how you could somehow sketch a character in like 20 lines when it took me 50 to draw sans in my little spiral notebook— like! Holy shit! For years I have looked up to your art! There’s still a photos folder on my dads old huge-ass 12 inch work iPad labeled “holy crap” and filled with your art. Because it inspired me so much. It’s become an undeniable part of my artstyle, now — I still have fanart I drew way back in the day of Hattie and the rest, I didn’t even know anyone’s names because I couldn’t play the game, but you’re the reason I eventually did play the game. Your coffee shop au and different versions of the prince— one of those ieterations inspired the main character of my novel! Well, novel that I tried to write, I was 13 so it was eh, but I tried!!

I’m submitting this on-anon because I don’t want to out my age on the wide internet (I like my privacy) but. Your art has really meant a lot to me. It’s the reason I played hollow knight, and it’s the reason I kept trying to develop an art style I was happy with. You’re the reason I started scribbling comics in my notebooks. Being 13-14 was pretty much the worst two years of my life, but I had Bing image search and the occasional glimpse of your signature, and I’d be so happy every time I found a new (if crusty) three-times screenshotted jpg. You literally introduced me to the concept of polyamory and nonbinary-ness with the coffee shop au. I had no other access to that in my household, and. Yeah. It meant a lot to me.

Anyway. I’m so glad I’ve finally tracked you down (in the most non-ominous way possible) and I’m so glad you’re still active— Please never stop making art. Your art is incredible, and amazing, and also you never know who’s out there on Bing image search. Thank you for creating for as long as you have. You’re pretty much the reason I’m shooting for an art degree (Wish me luck!) so just…Thank you.

(Also I had no idea you were a professional storyboarder, which is insane because that’s what I want to be when I’m through college. Hey, maybe I’ll end up storyboarding a remake of something you’ve storyboarded! hehehe)

Hi anon!

So right off the bat, I gotta tell you that this message made me start bawling when I woke up and saw it. Like I had a full-on cry session while reading your message and lying in bed for almost an hour. I am crying as I am typing this response, on my phone, still in bed. It’s 11am and i woke up at 9. So I hope it turns out coherent.

The last two years have been. weird. I say that a lot because I wanna say “rough” but that still doesn’t feel quite right. I’m almost hyper-aware that there are so many people that have it worse than me rn, so it feels hard to even acknowledge when I’m going through anything, myself, sometimes- REGARDLESS, it’s been kind of an all-time low for my mental health. There was a point within in the last year where I just HATED drawing. I struggled to bring myself to work, I struggled to bring myself to even draw for fun. It felt like I was posting just to post, trying to keep people aware of my existence and it almost felt physically painful to force myself to sit down and do it, sometimes.

I’m getting better now, I think, but. Yknow.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the “oh I can make money off this,” “oh I can get attention off this,” “oh I can prove myself a functional person in society with this,” of it all. I forget why I actually do this, sometimes, or if I even enjoy it. And then I get messages like yours, about the kid with limited internet access looking for A Hat in Time fan art on Bing image search, and I get taken back to when I was a kid scrolling Google images and deviantart for the same thing.

I don’t mean to like. Foster some kind of parasocial thing with you or any one of my followers. There’s a reason I’m saying all this, I hope it ties up in the end.

We don’t know each other. I’m not some mysterious legendary artist, or whatever. I’m a person who gets burnt out, and jealous, and insecure. I need inspiration to function, just like you, and when I don’t have it, I get art block. But I also really like to draw fictional characters kissing and hanging out. I like coming up with comics and stories and playing out dramatic and funny scenarios in my head like I’m mashing Barbies together. And when other people tell me they enjoy the stuff I put out when I do this, it makes me really, really, really happy.

I think I needed to read your message, probably. With the state of… Everything… Right now, especially recently, I feel like a lot of artists are also struggling with a sense of purpose, pride, and reason as the world makes it harder and harder to even BE an artist, these days. And when I read this message it was like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I got taken back to when I was a kid looking at my favorite artists and studying their style and striving to be better and better at it over years of my life. Not just because I wanted a job for it or cuz I wanted to be a famous Disney animator or whatever, but because it was fun and I just liked doing it.

Thank you, SO much. I say this in the most genuine and earnest way I possibly can possibly express. I wish you luck on your own path in art and art school. And if you decide that animation industry is your thing, then I wish you the best in that endeavor, as well. I think I will keep making art for a long time.

Peace and love on the planet earth ✌️✌️✌️

[a-romantics-guide-to-life]

ᯓ ᯓ kryptonite kisses ᯓ ᯓ ⋆˙ ✮

clark can't seem to take his lips off of yours for even one second aka your lips are kryptonite, weakening him (but if that what it takes for you to keep you close to him, cest la vie)

tags: fluffyyyy, kisses, you work together, established relationship

FIRST CLARK FICLET!! def not the last bc i am so weak for this man already but i hope you enjoy!

You rub your forehead, the words on the page in your hands blurring together. How is it possible for one writer to make so many mistakes? The red pen tucked on your ear was running on its last legs of ink. You were convinced that the person who wrote this sham of an article deserved to be sent back to the kindergarten. And they also definitely needed glasses because who in their right mind would ever write a sentence as atrocious as “Superman’s strengths lied in his sooper abilities of strong because his face was a zero out of ten.”

“When I catch the person who wrote this, they’ll never ever write again. I won’t let them.” You mutter, taking your red pen and scribbling furiously, nearly ripping the paper out of anger.

A resounding laugh echoed in your office all of a sudden, you looked up to meet the familiar voice's face. Beautiful blue eyes stared back at you, glasses framing his strong nose and handsome face. You smile, setting your pen down as the man walks to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“What are you whispering furiously?” He smirked.

“Only this stupid article titled ‘Superman, only is he really that super?’” You sigh, lifting the paper for the tall man behind you. He lets out another chuckle, taking the papers as he starts to read the obscene article.

His deep voice starts to read the words under his breath, a few amused snorts escaping his thinned lips.

“Go back to elementary school? Such kind words darling.”

You laugh standing up and taking the papers from his hands, throwing them back to your desk. You walk up to him, your chest meeting his as you look up to gaze at the tall man.

“What would you have me say Clark? ‘You can’t write for shit, who spells super as sooper’?” He laughs, hands coming up to your arms, rubbing up and down. Your shoulders loosen under his powerful touch. 

“That’s certainly one way to communicate how whoever wrote that needs an immediate ride to the hospital because I think that they may have a severe concussion,” he hums, “Do ya think they’ll let me fly them to the hospital?”

You laugh, resting your head in the space between his shoulder and neck. You wrap your arms around his broad chest, “I don’t think that’s the best idea, Superman.” You whisper the last part.

Clark looks down at you, smiling at the very ‘secretive’ smile you give him. You made him feel as if he was the only one in the world, the way your bright eyes lit up every time you smiled. On a planet of 7 billion and a universe with who knows how many more species and people, you were the only one to make his chest swell with giddiness and elation.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, moving away from you so he could help you pack your things. You smile as you begin to plan your night in your head. Superhero movies, beer for Clark while you sipped on a nice red Clark bought you, and of course tipsy kisses which would probably lead to much more.

You mindlessly organize the articles you needed to edit on your desk, taking home a few that you could finish later. You smile, thankful it’s time to go home and spend the rest of your night with Clark.

“What are you smiling about over there? Surely the first page of the article I wrote about Superman isn’t that interesting.”

Your eyes snap to the page underneath your fingertips only to see a photo of the Man of Steel with the words “by Clark Kent” underneath the photo. 

You laugh, “sorry Clark, just excited to spend some time with you is all.” You smile, quickly packing up the rest of your things, your heels clacking on the tile floors of your office to catch up with your boyfriend. 

He smiles, taking your briefcase, which Clark noted was worn out and much cuter than the one he used, from your hands. He moves everything he’s holding to his left hand, cradling your hand in his. You smile, holding your coat in your other arm as you two walk to the elevator.

You press the button, letting your hand fall from Clark’s. He immediately pouts, much like a puppy or even Krypto, his shoulders sagging. You laugh at his antics, leaning to kiss him on the cheek. 

Clark’s heart immediately stop, the world seemingly halting as he looks at you, a gentle smile on your lips. He tilts his head to you, pressing his lips to meet yours in a soothing kiss. 

You lean in, your nose catching on his glasses. Your lips danced together, your hand going up to cradle his cheek. Your hand rubbed against his strong jaw as his lips continued to ravage yours. 

He released your lips for a second, his hand shooting up to throw his glasses into his pocket. He throws your bags and his own coat to the ground to wrap his strong arms around your waist, hoisting you up against him. Your hands immediately shoot up to his face, bringing him closer to you. 

Your breaths between kisses grew heavier and heavier, your lips tingling with passion and need as you greedily took Clark’s lips. His hands started to roam across the small of your back, your waist, your ass. His lips greedily latch onto yours, stealing ever sigh and groan escaping your messy pink lips. 

Suddenly the elevator dinged, your head shooting to the open metal door, praying that no one was inside. 

Clark laughs, noting your fear. He sets you down, kissing your nose and cheek before swiftly putting his glasses back on, patting his coat to rid it of any dirt, and grabbing your bags from the floor. You shyly do the same to your own coat, slipping your arms through the velvety sleeves as you walk to the elevator. 

You and Clark both reach to press the garage button at the same time. Your eyes lock on to each other, goofy smiles and chuckles drowning out the music playing of the crackly speakers. 

“Let me take you out on a date darling.” Clark takes your hand, kissing the ring you wore on your middle finger. 

You nod, your hand shaking away from his own. You cradle his face as the elevator continues it’s descent into the abyss of the lower floors.

You lean in once more, kissing his lips. You quickly move away from him though as the elevator doors open once more, sprinting away to your car before Clark could trap your lips once again in heaven. 

As you move hastily to your car, you hear Clark mumble “damn you and your kryptonite kisses.”

You laugh, opening the doors for Clark as he scrambled to get you inside presumably to catch your lips once again in a kiss.

[ninikrumbs]

things he'd never admit

Sukuna x femreader. Just pure fluff. modern au. Soft Sukuna. Sukuna is bad at emotions. first time writing for sukuna so this could be bad.

The smell of rain reaches your nose first making you look up at the dark and gloomy clouds in slight panic, "Damn, its gonna rain soon."

Quickly, you run to the bus station, but apparently not quick enough as you made it halfway through before the soft pitter patter of rain slowly turns louder.

Lady luck was not on your side today. After long tiring day at University, you're now about to turn into a wet rat. A cute wet rat, but still a rat.

It was probably a dumb thing to do, especially when the pouring rain was now blurring your vision, yet you still continued running down the slippery pathway anyways, trying to salvage your books and papers inside your gradually dampening bag.

A low, annoyed grumble made you halt in your step, "Are you trying to kill yourself, brat?"

You could recongnize that rude voice anywhere. You look up to the large form now blocking your way, and quickly noticing the dark umbrella covering your head, "Kuna?"

He scoffs and let out an irritated sound, "Who else?"

Suprise and something warm flits through your body, your eyebrows raising, "What are you doing here? I thought you were busy all day today?"

Your mind recalls his blatant reminder that he couldn't come see you today because he had some school shit to do. Hence why you didn't call him to pick you up which he usally does. Because despite his semi aggressive personality, he does take his studies seriously so you didn't want to disturb him.

And Sukuna was busy, unbearably so. Not that he would admit it, he loved spending time with you thats why he chose to spend the entire day to do his papers and essays due this week was so there would be no interruptions during your time together - which was another thing he would never admit to you- and he could just focus on you.*simp

But when he saw the weather forecast and knowing your bad habit of always forgetting to bring an umbrella, he was already out the door with his keys in hand.

He was right to trust his gut cause here you are almost soaking wet, like a stray kitten left out in the street. Not mention your clothes that were now almost translucent.

It makes him grit his teeth, no one else should see you this way other than him. He holds out the umbrella to you. "Hold this."

You take it without question and hold it above the both of you as Sukuna removes his coat and puts it over your wet clothes. The annoyed look still plastered on his face as he keeps grumbling under his breath of how much of a spoiled brat you are.

It makes you grin cheekily. Other people might take Sukuna's surly personality the wrong way but you knew better. You spoke fluent in Sukuna Itadori.

And you knew, regardless of his complaints and rumblings, he cared. He cared so much even if he wouldn't admit to you or to himself. But you felt it every second you're together.

"Watcha smilin about, woman?" He grouses, annoyed, his eyes locking in on your smile, the type of smile that makes his pathetic heart stumble.

You shake your head still grinning innocently, "Nothing."

He glares at you, not believeing you for a second, but he can roast you about that later. Right now he just want to get you home to make sure you don't come down with a cold or a fever.

With a shake of his head, he takes the umbrella from you and starts walking you to his car. He tries to be subtle about it, but you didn't miss the way the umbrella tilted more on your side getting his right arm soaked from the rain.

"Kuna, your-"

"Leave it."

"Are you sure?"

"Im fine, brat."

You bit back a grin, his words were so jarring yet with no real bite behind them. It could be his jacket that envelops your entire frame and his comforting scent emitting from it, but you feel so warm and cherished. Only Sukuna can be so grumpy yet somehow affectionate.

The car finally comes to view and he ushers you into the passenger seat, placing a practiced hand on the car door frame as you sat down.

You bumped your head into it once but the grimaced you wore is forever seared into Sukunas brain. He realized then and there that he didn't want you in any form of pain, not that you'd ever know when he called you a clumsy idiot as you rubbed your sore head.

He drove extra slow that day.

Plus he stared at that door frame for a hot minute like it was his biggest enemy when he got home.

The moment you got inside his apartment, he immediately demands you get into the shower. His voice holding no room argument.

You comply without complaints of course. After a warm shower, you change into his baggy shirts and make your way to the kitchen when you hear the kettle boiling, and surely enough he has your favorite tea ready in the favorite mug that you bought when you first started dating.

"Oi, your hair's still wet." He notes grimly by the kitchen counter, crossing his arms in displeasure. Though you don't miss the way his eyes flits across your figure in his shirt apprciatively.

You wave him off, grabbing the mug off the counter and breathing in the soothing scent of the tea, a content smile on your lips, "It'll dry off on its own, Kuna."

He tsks at your carelessness and disappears to the bedroom, he comes back a few moments later with a towel and hair dryer. "Sit on the damn sofa"

You gaze at him with exasperated affection. If only people could see through his rough exterior and notice how much this man dotes on you.

Finding no reason to argue, you plop down on the sofa with your legs crossed and he finds his place behind you, fluffy towel in hand.

Gazing down in the mug in your hands, you smile secretly to yourself. Your boyfriend may not be the most expressive when it comes to declarations of love, but you didn't need words. His actions spoke more than any kind of heart trembling confession or lovesick poem.

And you felt everything he would never admit outloud in the way his rough, calloused hands are so uncharacteristically gentle as he weaves through your hair with the towel. Handling you like you were some precious china.

You clasps your hands over his, making him stop. You turn your head and look up at his questioning gaze. Smiling softly, your kiss one of his palms. "Thank you for always taking care of me, Kuna."

His eyes widen slightly before his mask of nonchalance returns, huffing,"Dunno what yer talkin about."

"You know exactly what Im talking about." You grin.

He rolls his eyes feigning irritation in order to hide the small smile tugging in the corner of his lips, "Don't get too used to it."

But he did want you to get used to it. Needed you to need him. This way maybe you'll ignore how shitty he is at emotions or how he can't do all the lovey-dovey stuff that makes you swoon in those crappy rom-coms you're always watching. He'll never hold a boombox over his head outside your window.

"Too late." You say, snuggling your cheek into his palm.

Sukuna falters a bit.

He's a confident man, women would beg for just a single glance from him despite his abrasive nature, it was all part of what Gojo called his charm -and once again he'd never admit it to you- but your words eases the insecurities he didn't realize were there. He grumbles under his breath somewhere along the lines of you better not taking that back.

You laugh at his mumbling, the sound like music to his ears, "Oh, Kuna."

[moeblob]

Hello, I have anxiety and rotate what happened at work in the morning almost all night and I am still fixated on the interaction I had that was just. Me: (walking to my next task) Coworker: your anxiety bad today? Me: .....no? (concerned now that maybe it WAS bad and /I/ didn't know??? did I mess up?)

Then she just left! SHE LEFT WORK! I had another coworker ask me if I had seen her lately and I'm like ???? NO?????? DID SHE LEAVE? WHAT?

What would have happened if I just said "yeah it's real bad today" would she have stayed? Was this a "well since you're NOT suffering, peace out!" or a "well that's good since I need to leave early but I'm not telling you nor anyone else". What did it MEAN to be asked that.......... what was the goal................ please I can't stop thinking about how we passed each other like five times with no words and then suddenly "yo hows that anxiety goin?" and then leaving work entirely.

[lbjeff]

This is an angst idea and I gonna make it worse. Below is a mixture of miserable soup that may choke you to dead in your mental

Ra also obsessed with Danny the way Vlad did with Maddie but in the more creepy, evil, dark shit way. He know the second Danny is free, he never get a chance to be with him so he kept Danny down to the Pits, chained and caged. There are some techniques that chance the depth of the Pit, so he could see Danny anytime in while. He try to brainwash Danny into giving in, make them the perfect family of Pit monster, Demon Head and their NEW children.

No, he didn’t r@p€ him but he did caress him, like his hair, cheeks, face or hands (I did said he is CREEPY). The only reason he didn’t do want he want is because he want it to be special.

The time Bats come to Danny’s recuse, they witness Ra showed his creepy feeling, planning for the fvck up family idea that he had while TOUCHING the person that believed is Damian’s DAD. Ra did confirm it by using Damian’s name to stop Danny from struggling

Make it worse that Danny look like he is a teenager, younger than Tim and little older than Damian, chained his hand up and his below is under the Pit, in the shape of tail instead of legs

And Bruce feel rage, because he remembers Danny’s face. That is the face of his first boyfriend who he met while training at LoA. The boy who was a volunteer at the small village near LoA’s base, the boy who he thought had been death after the village was destroyed by the LoA after Ra knew he attracted by that boy more than Talia, Ra’s daughter

Bruce pretty sure that Danny was completely human back then so Ra must had done something to him. He made Danny not human, chained him in his Pit, take their sons (Damian and Jason) away from him and forcing Danny to give him a NEW HEIR. Bruce wonder did Danny had to endure all this because he met him, was Bruce the one who start all of Danny’s miserable? But he will self blame latter, right now he has to save Danny, give back his freedom, bringing him back to family and make it up to him

Meanwhile, Dick is staring at Danny, he knows it is not a good time but somehow he find that Danny, while chained up, tail under water, look fragile but breathtaking nonetheless. He feels like a sailor, be caught by the sight of a beautiful siren. Is he still sane if he want to replace Ra and hold Danny near him, forever?

Tim could has figure out something is wrong with Dick’s expression if he not also want to keep Danny to himself.

The only person that don’t attracted to Danny that way are Jason and Damian, who are his sons by the Pit

Yeah, it may be trap and be one with the Pit for too long did give Danny’s an passive ability, that is giving people madness, but it is love and lust madness

Now we have a Danny!Tomie style, except he is not evil but more luring

DP x DC prompt

Damian isn't the son of the bat.

He is the son of the Demon, however , a Pit Demon, to be specific. One Ra's had imprisoned deep below Nanda Parbat.

The wails of this eldritch horror could be heard most nights.

It sounds haunt all those who hear it, not many are aware the Demon is crying for the babe stolen from from it years ago.

Or Damian is actually Elritch Danny's son, who Ra's decided to try and raise as a weapon.

[ihopesocomic]

I'm curious if you guys know about Clouded Moon, Shifting Roots? The book just came out and I read it, I thought it was pretty good

I read it. And I did not care for it. It read more like it was something for people who are already fans of these characters and not for people who were looking for something separate from Warrior Cats. Which would be fine but then I wouldn't have bothered.

It read like they felt like they had something better than Warrior Cats when in reality it was no different from Warrior Cats. Which is the problem with many Warrior Cats adjacent things. They end up making the exact same mistakes. 

There is an unneeded amount of telling and not showing. There was so many instances where a character would explain something that happened to them prior to the events of the book. The writers of Warrior Cats are beholden to a narrative structure of following a linear timeline that is not a standalone story. It requires context from other books. Since this is a story independent of Warrior Cats, I have to wonder why this writer didn't just. Start from the beginning. It would explain the actions and feelings of characters better without having to dump exposition on your readers. This is especially obvious later in the book where the main characters get attacked by coyotes and snakes and we see none of it happen lol it's all third-hand accounts of what happened.

It still has an unnecessarily large cast. Warriors has a problem with too many characters, so why did you CHOOSE to have the same problem? Characters sharing the same prefix is a huge mistake. There is only one instance where it made sense because eventually something changes. But I've been in WC RP groups before and there's a good reason the ones I was in disallow the same prefix lol it's fucking confusing. If you're not gonna trim the fat, it does the reader a disservice to not do your best to make sure no one gets confused. I don't care how attached to the names y'all are. V*viziepop did this shit and I'm gonna criticize the book for doing the same thing.

You can barely focus on the protagonists. They were basically interchangeable, which was not helped by the constant changing of perspectives, because they all essentially have the exact same thoughts on top of a cast you can barely keep track of. They barely had personalities to speak of, so all of them are surprisingly plain. And I'm supposed to believe at least half of the main cast were close friends at some point. Even characters that should at the very least be morally grey like Dawnfrost and Goldenpelt felt like the writer(s?) didn't want to make them "TOO" bad so that people would still like them. Cuz god forbid we have characters that have to grow to become better people. They're essentially a cult in the woods who are at constant odds with each other and you don't want to have Dawnfrost have some questionable thoughts about anything? 

Since the protagonists barely have a personality, character deaths happening around them have such little impact, even the ones I was surprised by. I imagine if this was remedied by telling the story from the start, I would probably care at least a little. I had stronger feelings about Duskwater dying and she had no dialogue and died pooping.

It is only because I have read Warrior Cats does it make it obvious where this story's roots came from. Because all of it is disappointingly interchangeable with Warrior Cats. You can't just change a few words and claim that something doesn't have ownership of something and then keep it virtually the same anyway. Aside from a few minor differences like queer characters having a Mike Wazowski cameo in the background, and magic being more widespread, nothing about it is different. To its detriment, without the context of Warrior Cats, there is no reason characters should be having half of the problems they currently have. A lot of the problems would be solved by simply making choices the cats in Warriors wouldn't. There's too many examples to give, but one that kind of drives me crazy is Windclan Field Colony leaders captains allegedly dislike Spottedshadow for her questionable loyalty, but they trust her enough to train their youth? Any other story would have leadership, no matter what the consequence, withhold that kind of power and make the protagonist find ways to subvert that.

And speaking of the queer characters, the cast is embarrassingly vanilla. You have the luxury of not being beholden to a publishing company's whims, you could have one big ol' polycule, or whatever the fuck, and you just. Don't bother? I know they've had these characters for a long time but like. None of the main cast is gay? Trans? Nothing? I guess Spottedshadow and Dawnfrost are bisexual since they had a relationship at some point, which again we the readers are not even present for, but it is entirely inconsequential to literally everything. I don't even recall whether a character brings it up in conversation. Neither of them barely spare a thought for each other, but their male romantic partners get plenty, even Goldenpelt. I guess to be fair, even the f/m romances are about as deep as the ones in WC. But did we not all decide this was tokenism? Or does it get a pass because it's "independent"? I've always said if you're not going to give your queer characters quality, you're better off not having them at all. I know they had these characters for a long time, but to advertise it as being queer is grossly misleading. People got more from the queer subtext from Frostdawn (god) and Whistlebreeze than queer context in this book. Again, if this was started from the beginning, where we got to see their relationship and it's just not working out, I wouldn't even be having this conversation right now.

And worst of all, it was boring.

I really need people to read books that are not Warrior Cats to have an idea of what good books are. Because if the line is "not warriors" then this book can't even cross that. - Cat

-

Basically all of what Cat said. I also didn't care much for the worldbuilding changes from it being a Warrior Cats RP story either. Like Cat said: if you're going to make it not Warrior Cats, you may as well just start from scratch so you can do things differently more efficiently.

Not only are the changes superficial at best but... they either make no sense or are very cumbersome. Like the Captains have these titles like 'Elmtail the something or other Branch' and I'm just like why? I mean, I get it because it's meant to imply something about their personality and leadership strategy but this is an example of how this story tells but does not show.

It also bothers me how we have mismatch of rank titles like Captain, Second, Envoy etc., which may sound like a nitpick but... it makes it really hard to remember what rank does what and what order of seniority they're in. It wasn't until quite far in the book that I realised that an Envoy appears to be something of a third-in-command of the colonies after the Second and the Captain. Even though - traditionally - an envoy is a low-ranking title in most situations. I know a rebuttal to this would be that the Envoy is simply 'in training' but nah, they're on the Council with the Second and the Captain and Goldenpelt even lords over Spottedshadow by using his seniority as Envoy at one point.

I would've just liked an explanation for these new choices in rank titles because they don't seem to correlate well at all. Like with our WC rewrite - The Nefarious - we went with a medieval ranking system because the two Colonies we have date back to medieval times so it makes sense for them to carry those titles throughout their history. Same goes for Warrior Cats itself, which isn't entirely necessary because it's pretty easy to follow what the titles mean but it's still nice we get to see how the Clans established themselves in Dawn of the Clans and Moth Flight's Vision.

And what makes things even more complicated on top of remembering all of the main cast and their respective deals is that - in place of the Leader, the Deputy and the medicine cat arriving at decisions for their Clan - each Colony has a Council that you have to keep up with that is made up of the Captain, the Second, the Envoy and an Elder. WindClan Field Colony even goes that extra mile and adds the Herbalist (medicine cat) to their Council. Good luck remembering which cats are on which Council for each Colony because I sure as hell don't.

We also have a stand-in for StarClan and the Nine Lives ceremony or w/e but I don't remember much about this. It was just more lore and more characters I had to keep track of.

To sum it up all: everything you're familiar with in Warrior Cats has just been taken and renamed but made even more needlessly complicated so that it seems 'different'. It's certainly different... it's just harder for me to keep track of everything. But congratulations, I guess? shrug - RJ

[diminuel]

Luffy, Croc and Ace going through so much physically and emotionally in/escaping and after impel down whilst Dragon and Sabo on Baltigo like "our family is doing what now?!"

What Dragon and Sabo are doing while all these things happen is one of the big questions I still have to figure out.

Imagine you're Dragon. Against your husband's wishes you let your youngest enter the Grandline because you trust in the wind of destiny or whatever more than you trust in your husband's judgment about Luffy's ability to master the challenges of the Grandline after just a couple of weeks of sailing the East Blue.

And yeah, sure, you get shouted at, but not just because you enabled your son's anarchistic tendencies but because Crocodile can tell that things in Alabasta are coming to a head AND it's absolutely a given that Luffy is going to get in the middle of it, especially since he picked up the Princess of Alabasta.

And you're not really all that worried but you're very quickly regretting it when your people tell you that some rookie called Straw Hat Luffy took out the Warlord Crocodile, who most likely was responsible for the unrest in Alabasta. And of course, you're Crocodile's husband, so you know that Cipher Pol sent the Dance Powder into Alabasta, with the expectation that Crocodile is going to either make something with it to remove King Cobra or take the fall if it gets exposed. And take the fall he does.

And maybe you have plans to intercept the prison transport from the holding prison to Impel Down, because shit, Crocodile knows too much, they're going to send them down to Level 6 for sure and once he's there he's not getting out easily.

But before you can do that (and also keep Sabo from hearing about it) you get wind of another massive problem: Ace has been chasing Blackbeard and not only got defeated, but also got captured.

And while you are trying to figure out what to do about that because the marine was going to make the most of this, most likely stage a public execution as a trap for Whitebeard, news about the Strawhat Pirates being utterly defeated and scattered over the globe reach you.

Your husband is in Impel Down, Ace is being transported there to await the execution order that is surely to come, Luffy has disappeared and Sabo is climbing the walls.

You do get a call from your mom Rayleigh that Kuma sent them away to protect them (and fuck, Crocodile was right, their child was not ready for the dangers of the Grandline!) but that doesn't tell you where the hell Luffy is.

There are so many fires to put out Dragon doesn't even know where to start, besides, once it becomes clear that a battle will happen at Marineford, Dragon has to decide what to do. Can he put being a father and saving Ace over the needs of the Revolution? He cannot drag the RA into a personal battle, this would destroy years of progress for them and they cannot afford that. Besides, who's going to strap Sabo to a bed to prevent him from barging into a battle he's not ready for?

I think he decides not to go even though it's killing him inside. Ace made his choice and Whitebeard will be there, he has to trust him.

And then he hears that Crocodile and Luffy escaped from Impel Down (how the fuck?!) and are on their way to Marineford. But by the time he has this information he probably can't get there in time anymore.

So he's helpless to watch and hope and Sabo is probably rioting, trying to leave Baltigo to save Ace.

In the end, it's over almost too quickly and all he hears is the official information: Ace has died, Whitebeard has died, Luffy was fatally wounded and has disappeared. The war is over and Dragon is probably sitting in his office crying, not even bothering to say anything to Sabo's screaming accusations that they should have been there, that they should have helped!

And then before he can sink too deep into despair Iva calls ;w;

[imblueeforyuu]

yandere frontman x male player reader

a/n i wrote this when i was high as shit and had to spend to much time editing it i want to kms

Your hole in the wall corner store was going bankrupt, you were millions in debt and your life was falling apart. This store has been in your family tree since forever, it was your family's pride and joy. And you were ruining it,  Of course you were. the one thing you had to live for was being taken from you. You were ashamed and embarrassed. Why did you have to be the one to ruin your family business? You felt hopeless, there was no way you could continue to live like this, i mean it wouldn’t be selfish to kill your self, right? You have no family to take on the debt you created, so it’s fine. Maybe it was best to take the cowards way out. Someone stopped you though, on your way back home a strange business man stopped you and offered to pay you if you played a simple game of Ddakji, you couldn’t turn that down, no way. In the end you managed to make half a million won, which was not nearly enough but you were out of options. The strange man gave you a card and went on his way. 

With nothing better to do with your already broken life you decided to join this game. You didn’t expect to win, god no, you just wanted to try something so you could say you really did attempt to make some money, and you didn’t just give up. 

You woke up with a quick breath, you look around quietly, you notice a 002 on your uniform. Interesting, were you the second person to join this game? Whose the first, they had to be more desperate than you to join so fast. You had a personal mission now, to find this number 1 guy.. You crawled out of your bed to start your search. Everyone was either waking up or still asleep. This would be your perfect opportunity to find this guy, or girl. You looked around for a good while and found nothing. It wasn't until the masked guards took you to the first game you gave up. You don’t know why you're so interested in this man you're sure it’s just some boring fat old man. you were so incredibly focused on finding this guy you didn’t realize people were dying around you. Well you did but it really didn’t matter to you. On the walk back you noticed something, your number 001! And two guards leading him to the line of players, why was he with them? Maybe he got separated but you doubt it. You are definitely going to keep an eye on him now. 

“Hey your number one,” you stated, you really weren’t good with interactions. your dad always used to tell you that your awkwardness was what was going to run the store to the grave, and it really did. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he said looking into your eyes. You stare back looking at every detail of his face. He was older but definitely still attractive. He didn't look like he belonged, he had the look of someone more well off. You glare slightly before continuing walking. You felt his stare bore into the back of your head.

Next was voting, you pressed O, you did want to continue the game. Why would you want to stop here, it was fun, and easy. It was just kid's games. It had been awhile since you were a kid  but you're sure you still had it in you. You went back to your bed and sat observing, there was a group of people surrounding the person claiming they’ve played this before, You can’t blame them who wouldn't be intrigued? you also noticed a purple hair guy and his little minion pick a fight with some other guy. Boring, what wasn’t boring was the reaction of a certain number one. He was really interesting, first he supposedly worked with the guards and now you've learned he's really good at combat. Maybe he was secretly a guard, or some type of spy, you needed to gather more information on him. You look around the room and notice player 456, the crazy one. Maybe he knew something. 

Your chat with him was unsuccessful, player 001 came back, the very person you wanted to gossip about. Maybe you didn’t want to talk about him exactly, still if he was someone important and noticed you trying to get more information you're pretty sure he’ll have you killed. Unintentionally you’ve found yourself part of 456s group. You tried to slip away when 001 came back but you were too slow. Fuck now you were stuck interacting with this creep. 

The time the second game happened you’re so done with these people. Player 001 whose name you've learned to be Young-il especially, he made you feel nervous, it’s probably all in your head that he’s a spy or something. You’ve done this before; get it in your head someone’s out to get you when they're really innocent. But there's definitely something off about this guy. 

6 legs was pretty much boring, you split away from  gi-huns group as soon as the opportunity came. You don’t dislike the group by any means but they were loud, you've always been so introverted.  Maybe you were just jealous, you probably were.

“002,” 388 came up to your bed with the rest of the group following behind . You peel your eyes open, god you're not ready to talk to them.

“Yes?”

“Where did you go?”

“I lost you guys,”

You probably shouldn’t make them hate you especially because they were your ticket to a good amount of money, even though they were against the games they were smart. And strong. Perfect for victory. They started talking about voting and you could care less. you wanted to keep these games going. 

Mingle was annoying, you were the last pick of the group. When it finally was time for two players, young-li grabbed your Hand. You expected him to pick gi-gun who was practically his boyfriend, but no he picked you. When you got to the room you didn’t expect someone to already be there. You were at a loss. Maybe it would be best if you just walked out. But young-il can never not shock you? He grabbed that poor man and snapped his neck. You were shocked but that proves your suspicion, this man was not who he seemed. 

It was Time for gi-huns master plan. To fight back, you didn’t have the heart to tell this delusional old man there was no way he would win but you did have a use for this. Finally proving that number one was evil. You were going to wait and see him betray them, but You decide to join the raid and follow in the back. When it was time to go to the front office you joined young-il and the group that went with him. You said you were going to stay with 456 and 390 but secretly followed behind him and his group. You saw everything, him shooting the people with him, him pretending he died and his smirk at the camera. You smile. perfect.

“Got you.” You raised your gun to face him. He didn’t seem to take you seriously, he smiled softly before moving closer. You glare.

“Back up,” you yell, you clutch the trigger. 

You shouldn’t have let your guard down so quickly, you saw him reach to put his gun down. Seeing him submit you released your grip on the trigger just a little bit. He must have seen you relax, because Out of nowhere he grabbed his gun again and shot your leg. You fall over unable to hold yourself up. You saw young-il move closer towards you until he was standing right by your head. He crouched down before smiling even wider. You look into his eyes, you were expecting anger not pure bliss in your bloody weak body. Your world went black.

When you woke up you noticed you were on an uncomfortable leather couch. Your head was propped up on a pillow. Your eyes were still somewhat blurry. You reach to rub the blurriness out but you notice your hands were tied. You try not to panic just yet but that fails miserably. You look around desperately and wiggle around, unintentionally knocking something off a table, ouch now your leg hurts. You freeze for a moment, damn it now your kidnapper knew you were awake. The elevator door dings causing you to flinch, fuck time was running out. Quickly you rush to hide somewhere. Unfortunately your feet and hands were tied so there was not much you could do. Of course besides rolling. You quickly roll under the couch which fortunately was tall enough for you to fit under but damn, rolling off the couch must have reopened your gunshot wound , you almost scream in pain. You heard the clicking of dress shoes come closer, they stop for a moment before continuing. They stop right at the front of the couch before the owner of the pair of expensive shoes starts to talk

“You know your feet are showing,” young-il, if that even was his name, said. You kept quiet even though you knew it wouldn’t help at all. 

“You can come out,” he paused before continuing. “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk.”  

Talk my ass. There is no way he just wanted to talk, if so why would he kidnap you? Yes, maybe you held a gun to him but still. You crawl out from under the couch, Or well wiggle out. When you finally managed to get out you saw young-il he was drinking a glass of whiskey. You were still on the floor wiggling around trying to free yourself from the rope. Young-il stood up and crouched by you. 

“What happened to all your confidence? You were so sure of yourself with that toy gun of yours,” he smirked and started to pat your head. You flinch and scrunch your face. 

“Fuck you,” you glare.

“Sh [name],” your eyes widened, you don’t remember telling him your name. But if he was the mastermind behind this you guess he would know your name after all. It still did disturb you. He disturbed you. The way he smiled, the way he crouched, and how he patted your head. There was something off about him, I mean of course there was. You felt helpless, he had tied you up and was treating you like a child. You spit at him, what else could you do? You were helpless, ok? That seemed to make him mad, good. He stood up abruptly and stared down at you. He kicked you swiftly. the middle of your back hit the leg of the couch. You winced and curled up into a ball. 

“What the fuck do you want from me,” you glare at the floor. You were still in the ball and your voice was low. You're not sure he could hear you. 

“Hm, you.” you heard the leather of the couch crinkle as he sat. What did he mean by you? Why Did he want you? You were just a failing business owner, you were about to end it when you were invited to these games. Maybe he liked that stuff? You hugged your legs closer, being careful of your wound. Why the fuck did you have to be so interested in him? 

[rockybloo]

I feel like bitchin so I'mma bitch bc I always see people going on rants on their Tumblrs and I'm long overdue for one. Anyways, this is a long one so be aware you are gonna be scrolling for a good bit if you view under the cut.

ANYWAYS, I know that that rude anon from last week is old news but their whole "I'm sad that Glitter and Guilt is a m/f relationship" thing is just a part of a never ending situation I am going to experience til the end of time (or til I stop posting stuff online) just because I focus on primarily m/f relationships in my art.

And they aren't even straight m/f relationships, which is what annoys me the most about comments like this. They're all bisexual. But because people see bisexual characters as better than straight but less than same-sex attracted orientation, I will always have to deal with these passive aggressive ass comments.

I dealt with this typa stuff SO OFTEN in my early days on Instagram, especially when I posted some of my gender nonconforming OCs like Danny (my pink demon man who dresses like a bimbo Barbie doll). It got to the point I stopped sharing him over there for a bit because I would get comments where people were hoping he had a boyfriend in the past, or they were disappointed I "never" drew any Sapphic couples because they mistook Danny as a woman in a pic where he was kissing Karrie.

And I get the whole desire to want more representation. Trust me, I'm bi, black, and nonbinary. I am NEVER going to get any type of representation outside of the indie artists I find in small niche circles online. I completely get the whole "m/f relationships are EVERYWHERE in mainstream media" mentality because I also agree but only to a point.

There's a ton of trashy m/f media, but there's also good shit when you dig because you can find people who don't just shove a guy and girl together and call that a done deal - they actually give them personality and chemistry and a fun dynamic.

I'm a firm believer that the gender of a ship shouldn't dictate if it's good or not. An interesting dynamic is what motivates me to care about a couple of characters dating. That's why it bugs me whenever someone suggests any kind of series to me and simply tells me "It's gay" before telling me the actual plotline. I WANT TO KNOW WHAT A SERIES IS ABOUT! DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!!! (Please do not pop into my inbox after reading this and suggest me stuff btw because I've never been a big suggestions unprompted person - I typically find stuff myself bc I have weird tastes ANYWAYS BACK TO MY RANTING)

When it comes to my art, I draw m/f relationships as a primary focus because it's fun to mess with gender dynamics and flip them on their head, as well as to give younger me the food I wish I had. Growing up, before I realized I was nonbinary, I rarely saw any black girls in loving relationships in animated series I enjoyed. And occasionally I would get flash banged with the long despised trope of "Disposable Black Girlfriend". So I never felt like m/f relationships were oversaturated in my eyes because there were barely any good ones that featured a black girl with a happy ending - which means from DAY MOTHERFUCKIN ONE I was starving for content.

So that obviously means that when I grew up and adopted my "Make your own food" mentality, I started cooking. AND COOK I STILL DO! Because in the end, I make all this food to please myself. OTHERS MAY EAT OF COURSE - I am always happy when people come to my restaurant to dine because they enjoy my meals, but I hate how every blue moon I will get someone who waltzes into my little eatery and tells me that they wish I cooked the meal they get from other restaurants.

Because it would be so much more productive to just go eat AT those restaurants since they already got the food you like.

Having people comment their displeasure about me drawing a guy and a girl together in a healthy (and occasionally insane) relationship is always baffling to me. It's never going to make me stop, it'll only make me draw more Red Beans or more Licorice. It's also so baffling because I know that if the tables where flipped - and I was drawing primarily same-sex bisexual couples (OR JUST SOME GAY OR LESBIAN COUPLES IN GENERAL BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE JUST DON'T CARE ABOUT BI FOLKS AT ALL), it would be so fuckin' frowned upon to comment "I wish you drew more m/f! 🥺"

But because I draw m/f bi couples, it's totally free game. IT'S DEF STILL FROWNED UPON but one is way more likely to make you look like an asshole than the other. Because even in cases where people have said they agree it's a dick move to complain about m/f from me, there's still that vibe of it being more acceptable just because of mainstream media having so many m/f couples and that being the standard of offline society.

But I'm not mainstream media. And I disagree with a lot of standards of offline society which is WHY I poke fun at gender norms with my OCs.

That's why getting a ton of new followers is such a "oh boy here we go" thing for me, because with old followers that have been around for awhile, they know what's up. They understand what I draw, what I write, and how my OCs typically behave. They get that my m/f ships have rabies.

But new followers don't know this. And this has led to some real big "OOF" moments. Like people calling Jack and Nana a "het" couple. Yes, I know that that's a term that doesn't JUST mean "heterosexual" and can refer to them being different genders. It still feels hella weird for me - it's why m/f is my preferred descriptor because it lacks that confusion.

New followers are typically the ones that leave the passive aggressive comments about me mostly drawing m/f. OFTEN because they think I am one of those artists who will draw whatever it takes to please my audience. BUT I AM NOT - THERE IS NO AUDIENCE INFLUENCE HERE ☝🏾

I am not a taxi where I pick people up whenever they call me and I drop them off wherever they tell me.

I am a roller-coaster. Specifically those ones where you can see the entire track layout in the distance so you know what you're in for. You may sit in the front or the back or somewhere in the middle but that is the last input you got before I take off at my own speed (that will be stated RIGHT on the warning sign you read as you walked in) and once I am done, you may get off and carry along your merry way through the rest of the park OR you may get on to ride again.

This entire passive aggression towards m/f ships is just so tiring to deal with because there will never be an end to it. Even after I post this, I know days, weeks, months, YEARS down the line - someone will see some Jack and Nana art, or some Bitterbat and Sweetheart comic, or ANY of my other m/f couples, and type up some comment about how they wish the couples were same-sex. Or someone will lament over the fact they thought a couple was same-sex but it turned out the dude was just hella feminine.

Because it just ain't enough to have bisexual characters that are dating the same sex because then people will call them "straight passing" and not count them as being queer. And having all my OCs being bisexuals ain't enough to mark me as a queer artists in some eyes because "making all your OCs bi is just lazy" and not me representing an aspect of myself that I constantly see sidelined online.

Me drawing bisexual m/f couples is viewed as something that can be tinkered and tampered with so I can be more appealing and inclusive to others like I'm some mainstream Hollywood series and not just some random person online who draw the fictional beings in my mind kissing each other whenever I got the crumb of free time. Primarily drawing m/f couples means I gotta just vibe whenever I see a moot or a friend post or reblog some weird sentiment referring to how lame m/f couples are and I just gotta HOPE that they aren't including bisexuals when they engage with stuff like that.

I'm in this weird space where I am wedged between "You're not a straight artist" and "You aren't drawing enough gay stuff" online.

And I'm fine with this since I've been online for over a decade at this point. This isn't a vent post, this is a rant. I don't need cheering up or comfort after posting this. This is just some real talk because I typically post lighthearted stuff since I like to keep my blogs positive.

But I also like to keep my shit honest and I think it's important to just state a piece of my mind. I wouldn't say I'm being vulnerable, this is just some insight to why I draw what I do and why I get so annoyed by certain interactions with people and certain sentiments online that are antagonistic of m/f ships that put them all down without hearing them out.

Blah blah blah I'm tired of typing and I've said most of the main points I've needed uuuummm

If you read this long have some m/f fluff

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

I have no idea what this is, I had a dream and I just need to write this shit down. im going thru it rn. trust.

mentions of throwing up, kind of ooc jimmy, just feels, cursing.

The bass from the party music still thumped across the room, while you decided to be quick on your feet and drag your legs towards the balcony door, trying to get some fresh air from the cramped atmosphere you were trapped in for who knows how long.

once the balcony door opened, a wave of cold air stung your face, whooshing past you, and scattering a few hair strands here and there, you stepped outside, and walked towards the railing. you stood there, just breathing and taking in all the glory of the dimly lit night sky, and looked at the skyline glowing vibrantly with distant noises of traffic and the citylife.

"crawled out of the wild night?", A voice from behind you made you whip your head back and come face to face with your boyfriend, jimmy.

"you seriously call that a party? Half of them have puked up whatever cheap alcohol they'd drank. It's so gross". you retorted back at him. "Can we leave already? please? Let's stay over at my place instead, yeah?". you suggested.

Instead of answering or even giving you a nod as an acknowledgement, jimmy decided to instead stare at you, so intently that it made you gulp a lump which'd formed in your throat, he stared at you with his lips curled into a subtle smile, so subtle it wouldn't even have caught your eye if you weren't paying attention. And then, as suddenly as he'd started staring, he said,

"Why are you actually with me?". He said in a tone so deadpan that you would've thought that he was out of it. "What? Are you okay?".

"No, y/n I'm asking you, I'm being serious, why do you even like me?". Jimmy said. "Jim are you okay? Where is this coming from? Now, of all times?".

Arguments with your boyfriend weren't an uncommon occurrence, it was as normal as deciding to drink a cup of coffee. This, however, was new. Your arguments never revolved around him being conscious about his self worth.

"A day never goes by without us arguing, without any of your 'friends' telling you to leave me. without me calling you a whore at least twice a day. So why are you with me even after all of it? It would've been easier for me to understand if you were a hooker, just looking for a place to crash at without trying to make actual connections. But you don't have any reason, so why are you with me?".

You were left dumbfounded, was this actually happening? Him, of all people, asking you why you loved him? Was this his idea of a joke?

"Jim did they fucking poison you at the party? Do you even realise what you're asking me?". You decided to answer.

"I know damn well what I'm talking about, y/n. Now answer the fucking question, why do you love me? Do you have some kinda messiah complex? trying to 'fix' me? or something like that? a new type of fetish?".

Your jaw was practically left hanging at your boyfriend's sudden display of aggressive attitude towards defending the idea that you loved him for an ulterior motive.

"Why don't you hate me?". He snapped once again.

"Because you don't give me any reason to". You finally said back.

"Oh don't give me that crap, I give ya plenty of reason to dump my ass and run away from me, any other person would've called the fuckin' cops on me". He continued on.

"Because I love you, Jim". You stopped him mid sentenced.

"I love you not in the sense that I want to get in your pants or steal your wallet, or save you from your misery, or whatever else nonsense you have going on in your mind". Jimmy was still looking at you with narrowed, skeptical eyes.

"I love you, as one might love another person, simply because they wanna love them. I love you, because I want to love you". You didn't realise that your chest was starting to feel heavy, and your vision was getting blurry, but you continued on.

"I love you because... because I want to. Not because I have to, not because there's some fuckin'... i don't know, social obligation that one must require to love another? I don't have it, i don't need it. You make me want to love you without any cause, I love you in the sense that... I love you because I can, I love you in the way that I need to... let you know that I can't do without you goddamn it. Why? Do you not want me to love you?".

At this point tears were flowing down your cheeks like a goddamn waterfall, you weren't yelling, you weren't pleading. you were simply letting your boyfriend know that you loved him.

Jimmy's eyes were wide, it's almost as if he'd seen some ghost, trying to prove to him its existence. Without saying a word hugged you so tight as if it was the last thing he could do before dying.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so fucking sorry". He repeated those words like a mantra, neither of you know what came over for this conversation to take place in the first place, but now that it has. You're unsure if you wanted for this to have never happened.

[starberry-cupcake]

hello!! I'm back!!! *sitcom studio cheer sound*

previously, in nona del 9:

this happened

this is the general tag for all the recaps

last recap I said Something was happening and it has!! we have a puppy now!!! her name is Dana (after Scully)!! this is her!!!

DAY TWO (one of the things mentioned is that honesty's job goes terribly wrong and I feel so bad because I forgot to point it out in my recap, even if it was something that looked sus af to begin with and I was concerned when I read about it)

CHAPTER 7 (second house skull, after pyrrha probably)

nona wakes up abruptly

someone told me in the last recaps that the bible chapters are when nona is sleeping, which I hadn't put together at all and I don't know if I should have or if I missed something important

in any case, nona starts telling camilla what she dreamt, which is not what was in the bible chapter, so idk what's going on with that

maybe the bible thing is what harrow is seeing and the dreams are what an amnesiac gideon is seeing????

we don't know yet

she's describing being with the "other person" who is touching her hands but they're not hers

"I'm touching my own hands but they aren't mine"

which is another one on the tally for the "this is gideon in harrow's body" theory

they're surrounded by red eyes in the darkness and she's very hungry

and they're holding hands

that's the dream

she was startled awake because camilla threw a sponge at her

nona freaked the hell out about that

remember when harrow was woken up by og!gideon trying to murder her in cold blood every morning? those were simpler times

also, nona is about to put on the tshirt from the cover which took me 25 years and @lady-harrowhark pointing it out to notice it was a burger

camilla asks her about the hands and nona says she didn't like them

and that she doesn't like having hands????

she's a bit infuriating sometimes ngl

I don't know what to do with this information

pyrrha talks about people becoming violent because shit is getting real

and she prepares some mush for them to eat at breakfast

she's also worried about camilla's soul (and life) due to whatever it is they're doing on the sites

palmolive, I swear to whatever god of your choosing

(that isn't dr reverend emperor john asshat)

if something happens to camilla on your watch

I'm gonna chase your nerdy ass all the way to your river loft and back

when they start talking about nona wanting a "six months alive" gift, pyrrha tells camilla how depressing and non-gift-giving the ninth house is

which she visited when anastasia got settled

nice to know things in the ninth never ever changed

they did have a gift, though

the gift of ortus's poetry

nona wants differently colored hair ties, to not push too far into pyrrha's limited budget

we'll see if we make it to the birthday, there's a countdown going on

when nona gets to school, honesty has a punch in the eye and she has to help him with it until teacher angel comes in

teacher angel is still looking very sus, with clothes in disarray and also the same ones from the previous day

hot sauce also comes in afterwards, which makes me think she might have been following teacher angel

she's on the case

hot sauce gets very upset asking honesty who punched him in the face

everyone's very upset and tense, except for kevin who's eating peacefully

we love kevin

so, honesty tells the story and starts from the worst place imaginable to explain something that happened with accuracy

which is the end

but that's fine, because the tension of the story is in the middle, so we get the narrative effect

we appreciate that

he's got a podcast in another life

honesty was about to go to the tunnel job but, turns out, it wasn't a tunnel job

it was actually a mad max job

and they get cocky and do more than they were planning to, which is never a good idea

so, by the third attempt, the guy who's been doing the dropping-in maneuver gets very spooked by what he finds in there

which is a lot of people with white eyes who look directly at him when he shows up

which prompts militia trucks to pull them over

so honesty runs the fuck out of there and gets smashed into a pole

depiction of honesty, ruby and born in the morning after the incident, had they been together:

honesty gets saved and cared for by some homeless folk

after his face got smashed into the pole

and he clarifies they were trying to steal from a convoy

which he would have said no to had he known the job before being taken to do it

he asks hot sauce to protect him

which hot sauce agrees to, but I think this is too much work for one hot sauce alone, especially if she's keeping an eye on everything else

nona offers her help, but is rejected, on account of being dumb

I wonder if nona will somewhat reveal her powers of healing protecting these kids at some point

OH, ALSO

teacher angel sus person mentioned not being technically a doctor but getting a crash course in triage

which, continues to be sus behavior

is teacher angel helping with the fights? with war? with secret confrontations?

we'll have to wait and see!!

THAT'S IT FOR NOW!! I haven't had a lot of time to read and recap and I'm currently falling asleep as we speak, so sorry for such a short one this time!!! ♥

[hyohaehyuk]

I think a lot of people are not understanding one thing about this show: Louis have an eating disorder caused by his rejections of being a vampire and a queer man. Eating animals and rejecting eating humans is not a normal diet for vampires and is not the same as veganism/vegetarianism like i have seen some keep saying. In the AR' vampire universe is not just the blood but also the hunt and the memories they get from the victims that get them healthy. Even the way Louis eats in present days is weird af (even tho is consumes more human blood provided by his unethically farm) bc he is forcing himself to eat human food too (the whole thing is weird af. watch it again now with the image of him having a eating disorder in mind and you will see what i am saying)

Everything Lestat was doing (especially between ep 2/3) was trying to make Louis eat properly but all his desperate attempts was just pushing Louis away. The reason he brought Antoinette to their house was to recreate their 1st time with Miss Lily (bc if it worked 1 time surely it work another🤦). I think he was hoping that Louis would feed out of Antoinette and maybe even kill her. Same reason (besides the pride and bad communication) of why he opened their relationship. He was hoping that while he was hooking-up with someone he would feed from it but instead Louis chose someone who it had story (maybe to piss Lestat. I think this will be revised in season 3 bc i remember seeing on twitter that Lestat was next to Antoinette but once he he sees Louis talking with Jonah he is in another place far from her). He was already mad that Louis eating disorder was taking a tool on their relationship (which is why he start cheating 💀) but suddenly Louis was in the mood for some sex with someone else and on top of it Lestat also had to watch him hurting dogs (which maybe we will see in season 3 that human lestat loves dogs) instead of feeding on his hook-up human being.

The saddest thing is that there is nothing Lestat could have done to help (if you watched the last season of heartstopper Nick was dealing with a similar situation with Charlie and everyone's attempting to help him was actually making it worse). Things would only start getting better if the person admit to themselves and others they have a problem and seek for professional help which unfortunately for Louis was a thing that didn't exist at the time. Thankfully Louis at the end of season 2 finally accepted himself so on season 3 we will see a completely new Louis and i don't think Lestat will be ready for that Louis 🤭. Tho I hope Louis is not automatically cured in season 3. I think he will still mess it up occasionally until he gets cured for real.

Anyway, i hope they revise this (and a few other things) in season 3 bc it seems that a lot of people still dont get it. There is a chance of them doing that bc depressed Lestat was also feeding out of rats just like Louis was and maybe they could touch on this when doing connections with Nicky depression. i think we will see a lot of connections related how Lestat dealt with Louis and Claudia bc of his relationship with Nicky and his family, particularly his mother. Since Daniel works like the public voice maybe he will be the one doing those connections especially now that Daniel is a vampire and knows more about how it works.

i do think loustat in the show are monogamous, however given the nature of the vampirism they still have to seduce their victims to feed so i can see them hooking up with the victims before killing them but that dont make them non-monogamous in my eyes bc that would involve them actually having feelings for others.

And no, i dont think Louis was in love with Armand (he was attracted at most. i will not go much in depth into their relationship bc i don't want loum*nd shippers annoying the shit out of me. the only thing i am gonna say is that their relationship was all about Lestat: it started bc of him, continued after Paris bc of him and ended bc of him) and Lestat with Antoinette (she was more like his therapist so he could vent about Louis and Claudia. if he had love her he would have told her she could had attached any human' finger to hers after he made her cut her finger. He only keep her 1st bc she was giving him the devotion Louis was refusing to, 2nd bc it still made Louis' jealous which casually he would show it and then bc he needed her to spy on Louis and Claudia. if you guys noticed Louis was quite undecided in going forward Claudia plan of killing Lestat, until he brought Antoinette. It was then (especially when petty Lestat call her "love") when he made up his mind. That was Lestat worst mistake that night bc he knew about their plan and was trying to make Louis not going through it but then does that 🤦)

louis and lestat wouldn’t even hesitate to walk out into the sun if the other ceased to exist and people think they would ever consider polyamory. it’s just not realistic. they invented monogamy and the soul being irrevocably tied to one other soul for eternity and beyond

[pleasantspark]

Hello, I am the one who started the Tumblr!HelluvaVerse Critical Self Aware Blog Trend, AMA!

As people wonder why I did them? Well you can shoot an ask and I'll answer for now this is what the Self Aware AU is like.

Everyone BUT Stolas is self aware of how stupid everything is, the reasoning for WHY Stolas is singled out is because why not? We're strictly ANTI-STOLAS here.

All blogs run by the same concept but the people behind the blogs have their own Headcanons and takes on the characters, the only things that remain are based on @mammoncriticizes, @seraphinacriticizes and @pentiouscriticizes sides.

Satan is the true ruler of Hell and has a DAUGHTER named Jezebel.

Infodumps and Loredumps made by all three of the mainblogs will be posted between asks, so it's a blink and you miss type deal.

Why did you make this?

I don't know, wanted to have fun with working together with the Critical Community, by taking inspo by the Instagram!HelluvaVerse but do it with Tumblr a united front that has similarities to most things.

I'd like to thank @moxxiecriticizes for being the first person to join then recruiting @0ctaviacr1tical as well. I was doing this for shits and giggles and it looks like we MIGHT actually pull this off.

I'd like to join where can we start?

Well, goodie! There's a way you can do it!

Just make an account and shoot me an ask! I usually respond to them as fast as I can!

Join the Self Aware AU Community Tumblr and shoot your shot there. (https://www.tumblr.com/join/pnuZQ40)

Or request a character in a google forum which had NOT yet been made.

Also, make sure your name has some variant of critical or criticizes in it! With the characters name and what they are in the bio so we can identify us!

What's the AU about?

Mammon, being the first to break free from this illusion began to realize that 2 + 2 does not indeed equal fish as he questioned around early season one, and realized he was forced to do things that he normally wouldn't do under any circumstances. With the help of online Hellblr he is able to contact people through OUR tumblr space somehow to connect with a wider audience through some means.

With that, there's been an influx of people joining the cause, and with every new critical blog popping up that means more and more characters are currently realizing just how fucked up their world truly is.

Status on Redesigns.

As we stand, we do accept redesigns as we would like to rebrand the characters and we're using this AU to reinvent the new storyline so if you end up drawing the posts we make then we accept it. Reblog it as well.

Blogs In Order of Creation

@mammoncriticizes @seraphinacriticizes @moxxiecriticizes @pentiouscriticizes @0ctaviacr1tical

@fizzcriticizes @bartendinggamblincat

REFER TO THE ABOVE IF YOU HAVE ONE ALREADY. It's recommended you make it a side blog, we might actually have people run the Seraphina and Pentious blogs if people wanna join.