#the comic had so many good layers

[inthelittlewood]

Questions about Eyes And Ears AU

I had somebody ask for a brief interview regarding my storytelling for their university project and thought I'd lend a hand.

I thought those of you that follow the story might like the insight too, so here ya go:

When you first introduced the Listeners in Evo SMP, did you have a broader narrative or concept in mind, or were they more of an atmospheric element at that point?

The honest answer is that I didn't want to write too much about somebody else's character(s), that being Grian's Watchers. If I could write the conflict from the side of the Listeners then we could continue the narrative with a pre-designed opposing force but have them be relatively mute for the most part. Partly to build anticipation of when they might act or retaliate but it also worked for behind the scenes purposes too. If the series hadn't slowed/stopped as suddenly as it did, I definitely would have poked Grian to pick his brain about what story elements fit his original imagining of the Watchers. So it was mostly narrative reasoning but they also served a mechanical behind the scenes purpose of transporting us to a new area which was necessary due to bugs we'd encountered with world gen etc.

What inspired you to flesh out the Eyes and Ears AU more in recent years? Was that mostly a personal creative decision, or was it influenced by fan interest?

Honestly I hadn't premeditated too much their reintroduction into anything that I was working on. Sure I'd seen a little chattering here and there about the Watchers but I honestly just wanted to write an individual story beat (albeit a tropey one) of c!Martyn snapping and turning on Ren but that never came to fruition due to Scar taking us out. The plan was always to backstab Ren then say a cool line like "Red Winter is over, Red Spring has begun" or something else punny. Seeing the fevered reaction of the audience though gave me some confidence that I could try my hand at some layered or entirely post-production storytelling, so heading into Last Life I was all guns blazing.

The Eyes and Ears AU is quite open-ended — do you intentionally approach it with the idea of leaving narrative space for fan interpretation?

It really is right? Yes, it's a very mindful decision to leave it open-ended but not so much for the audience's benefit or interpretations, but to give myself creative freedom to take the story wherever I'd like to. Committing to too many power scale, multiverse or narrative shackles early can really strangle stories I've noticed (from reading comics and manga) meaning back pedalling or aggressive retcons are required to explore certain paths, which is rarely a good experience for the reader. I do enjoy their versatility and capability to be applied to any Minecraft or adjacent story too. Some might call it too broad, I call it malleable.

How do you feel about fans expanding the lore through headcanons and theories? Have any fan interpretations stood out or surprised you?

I think it's brilliant! People inundate my inbox on Tumblr seeking permission to write stories or create characters / AUs but I've literally no authority on that. I suppose it might be a different conversation if they were profiting off of those works, but 99% of people simply want to write for fun which I highly encourage!! I'll be honest that I haven't read a great deal of AUs or headcanons, my exposure to them is mostly via chat messages during lore talk streams or questions that come through regarding the Eyes And Ears AU. As a general rule I try to avoid reading too much of other people's works on the topic because I worry I'll accidentally regurgitate it in some way then stumble into plagiarism, you know? It's why I focus more on digesting stories outside the fandom whether it's manga, Sanderson books, reading old Japanese folk tales and the like. I can source inspiration from those on how to weave narrative and execute plot twists without having to glance in my front yard.

Has fan content (art, theories, animatics, etc.) ever influenced how you think about or approach the AU?

Oh for sure they have. It's literally why after every season we'll do a sit down stream and talk about the lore in detail. Figure out the puzzle and potential trip wires of plot points from the episodes and how we can neatly pack them into the pre-existing story. A lot of people wouldn't do that as they'd be precious about their work and believe their opinion is th only correct one, but I looooove soundboarding with the audience on it. I also take that mindset in game and sometimes think about the scenery of an impactful moment whenever I'm able to control / design it. I'll have little quips or quotes cooked in my mind for how I'd ideally deliver a blow or plot twist, buuuuut given the nature of the Life series you very rarely get to execute things how you'd like haha! I definitely wouldn't have done as many of the poems had their not been such a positive reaction to those. I often see individual lines or entire passages make their way into art pieces as typography or highlighted in animatics which is really gratifying. It's why I also put such an emphasis and priority on audio production in my editing. If I can craft something that feels atmospheric, driving and punctuating with music, staggering vocals or sound effects then the auditory portion is already done, they can focus solely on the visual aspect of things. I try and be as cinematic / TV like as my skillset allows for that reason.

You’ve mentioned trying not to fully canonise the AU, but still referencing it consistently — how do you balance telling your own story effectively, while trying not to involve other creators, particularly on the Life Series, when a lot of your time is spent in a group?

The easiest way to do this, is to not do it. For the most part the only storytelling done with the AU is done in post-production. I never name drop the Watchers or Listeners in world (believe me, I was as surprised as all of you when I saw that Secret Keeper statue in Secret Life!!) and in recent seasons they haven't even reared their head as an influence whatsoever. They're on holiday, they deserve it. But when they do whisper in my ear, they're motivated decisions that I would likely make as a player/character anyway because the win objective is always the thing I'm striving towards. I can just pepper angst around it to make things seem more manipulated rather than selfish ha. I think that's why the open ended nature of the Watchers has served me well because as much as they have a singular motive which is to feed on negative emotions, that can be achieved in so many ways ranging from bloodlust to deception, heartbreak to panic. It's versatile for storytelling. It can be in your face, or a slow burn.

What do the Watchers and Listeners represent to you, symbolically or narratively? Do they serve a specific function in the stories you tell?

The Watchers used to represent the audience when Grian first introduced them, but after departing EVO I've definitely breathed more of an egotistical and sinister air into them. They're very much a unique entity / faction now, they in some ways represent gluttony, selfishness and neglect in achieving their goals. The Listeners on the other hand, are a lot of the opposite traits, but I'm still wanting to explore how being the hard end of most conflicts can be dangerous. I want to explore that at some point, whether it be with infighting or failures. They shouldn't be seen as simply bad/good, they're just, different. It shouldn't be too hard navigating that nuance but I want it to reflect elements and motives that we find in our own lives.

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 1

SERIES SUMMARY: You’ve been best friends with Oscar Piastri since you were seven, far before the dream of Formula 1 even seemed possible. You’ve been with him from the very beginning—due, in no small part, to the fact that you’ve been in love with him since you were a teenager. But when a breakup and championship battle rattles the very foundations of your friendship, you begin to question if you ever really knew him. (Best friends to lovers, based on the song Wildflower by Billie Eilish)

WORD COUNT: 11.1k

WARNINGS: Oscar is not a very good boyfriend to Lily and Lily is not a very good girlfriend to Oscar. Potentially changed some dates (I think Oscar and Lily started dating when they were 17 or 18, but I’m making them 18 for the sake of the flashback scenes). Reader is “the girl he told me not to worry about” through no fault of her own. This story has a lot of complex character dynamics and everyone is flawed! References to sex but no actual smut.

A/N: Ah new series! I hope this is good—I’m trying some new stuff with the flashbacks and story layers, so I hope it doesn’t read too confusingly! Also, I’m trying to be more intentional with showing instead of telling with my dialogue and such, so hopefully that is an improvement. I always welcome constructive criticism, but either way, I hope you all enjoy this.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

“Lily left me.”

He only needed those three words to convey the gravity of the situation. On the other end of the line, you were silent. He was too. What was there to say?

No, it couldn’t be real. Oscar and Lily were inseparable. The dream couple of Formula 1. Your best friend had been in love with her since the pair were 18, attending boarding school in the UK together while Oscar pursued his dreams of making it to F1. 

They were each other’s everything. At least, that’s what the world thought.

But you had seen this coming for a while now. It was just a shock for it to actually happen. 

Finally, after an eternity, you spoke, still too shocked to formulate a coherent thought. “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean she fucking left me. What else do you want me to say?” You could hear the quivering in his voice, giving away the sadness behind his abrasive response. You weren’t offended one bit. 

“Shit, Osc, I’m so sorry. I… don’t know what to say. Do you want me to come over? Or you can come to mine?” 

“I’m outside yours right now. In the car park.” 

“I’ll let you in,” you said. The mental image you conjured of Oscar outside your apartment crying in his fancy McLaren would have been comical, if not given the circumstances.

He let himself in only a few moments later, hoodie covering his tall and muscled frame. He was soaked from the rain outside—he must have come directly from the confrontation. 

“Oh, Oscar,” you said, pulling him into a hug, cringing at the contact with his soggy hoodie, but knowing that there were far more important things to be worried about. 

You rubbed your hands up and down his shoulder blades that now heaved with sobs. His entire body shook with the fervor of his tears, and you just held him, gently shushing him and promising that everything will be okay. 

“I don’t know how she could do this to me,” he said, gasping out the words between haggard breaths. “The championship—I can’t do it without her.”

“I know,” you assured him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not, YN, it’s not gonna be okay. I love her. And she just threw away so many years.”

“I know.” You just kept assuring him, tightening your grip on him as his sobs became more intense. “Just breathe.”

“Why would she do this to me?” he asked. “I don’t understand. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

You knew. And deep down, Oscar did too. That was a conversation for another day. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t seen this coming. 

You didn’t have it in you to lie to him. You had always been the type to pride yourself on being honest, even when the truth hurt, but you couldn’t bear to do it now. You changed the subject.

“Oscar, you’re soaking wet. I’ll find you something else and warm that up in the dryer, yeah? Just sit down, take a deep breath, and let me get this figured out.”

He sat down on your couch and took off his hoodie and t-shirt underneath, revealing his toned body. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before—you’d been friends with him since you were seven, growing up together. He almost felt like a brother to you, sometimes.

Maybe it wouldn’t be weird at all, except for the fact that you’d been in love with him for over a decade now. 

But right now that didn’t matter. He had plenty of old hoodies over in your apartment, which you carefully folded every time he forgot them. Placing his wet clothes in the dryer and setting the temp on high, you reached to the shelf above you and grabbed a random one. You unfolded it—an Alpine hoodie from back in the day, before his time at McLaren. You smiled at the memories that flashed in your mind, before quickly returning to Oscar with the garment. 

He had moved from your couch to your bedroom, holding a pillow on his lap, hunched over where the top of it met his chin. He was staring off into space, not breaking his gaze at the plain white wall.

You sat next to him, handing him the hoodie, and he mumbled a small thanks as he grabbed it. He didn’t put it on, instead just holding it with the pillow, as if filling his arms with the plush material would fill the hole now left in his heart.

“Oscar, I… don’t have anything profound to say. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t respond at first, instead just silently letting the tears well up in his eyes. 

“I guess I should have seen this coming,” he said quietly. 

You paused, unsure whether or not you should agree with him. But you were nothing if not honest.

“Yeah,” you said, “it’s been a rough few months.”

“I guess we just both fell out of love.”

“I mean… how did the conversation go?”

It would be stupidly easy for Oscar to lie and say he didn’t remember Lily’s every word. But he knew better, and so did you. As he explained, the memory replayed in his head.

“I can’t do this anymore, Oscar,” Lily said, a simple yet devastating statement.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” His confusion was genuine, much to the chagrin of his angry girlfriend.

“The fact that you even have to ask that proves my point.”

“Lily, talk to me. I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” Oscar stood up, now understanding the full gravity of the situation he found himself in. 

“I’m trying to say that I’m not happy anymore, and neither are you. I wanted to at least give it until the end of the season, but I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when we both know bloody well that it’s not! Don’t you want something better than this, Oscar?” Lily pleaded. 

“I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Don’t lie to me. You say that but you put everything else before me. I’m not a priority to you. I haven’t been in a long time.”

“I’ll quit F1. We can go back to the UK and live a normal life.”

“No. We both know that you wouldn’t do that.” Her tone was incredulous, twinged with a slight anger at the mere suggestion. 

“Yes, I would. I’d do anything. Don’t do this, Lily. Not now, not when I need you the most.”

Lily grabbed his hand, leading him to sit down on the couch next to her. “Oscar,” she began, “we had a good run. You made me so, so happy for so long.” She reached up to gently cup his cheeks and wipe away where tears were now forming at the edge of his eyes. “I saw you achieve things that neither of us ever thought were possible. But…I can’t stay any longer. Not when there’s no place for me in your heart anymore.”

You sighed. You knew every word that Lily had said was right. But you also knew you couldn’t get that through to Oscar, at least not until the shock wore off.

The words remained unspoken. You had been there for all of it. Lily was his first love, his only girlfriend, and everyone assumed that he’d marry her one day; you included. 

“I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on acting like my life didn’t just fall apart. How did you do it?”

This was Oscar's first breakup, but you had been through too many, it seemed, since he was asking you for advice on how to handle them.

The truth? It was very easy to get over a breakup when every partner you’ve ever had was a feeble attempt at denial. When they all inevitably failed, you just went back to bask in Oscar’s platonic love. It was enough. 

“I won’t lie to you, the first one is always hell. You feel like you’re going crazy for a while. You lose hope that you’ll ever feel happier, because everything reminds you of them. And then one day it just…doesn’t. The only thing that heals it is time and finding love around you, you know, friends and family.”

“No offense, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

‘Well, I’m not going to lie to you and say it’ll be easy, because it won't. But it will be okay—not today, but someday. You’ve got something to focus on with the championship. And I’ll be here.” You gave him an empathetic smile. 

Maybe you weren’t the most comforting friend to most. But you and Oscar had a bond that was very different to most friendships. You understood each other’s idiosyncrasies in ways no one else could. So when shit hit the fan, it was always each other that you went to.

You continued, “You can stay here as long as you like.”

“Thank you.”

There was only one problem: your apartment only had one bed. And to the dismay of fanfiction writers across the world, you all would not be sharing it. 

You distracted Oscar by cooking a meal and watching a comfort movie—Cars, a classic. You could tell he was exhausted by the way his head on your shoulder sloped just a little too heavily downwards as the credits rolled. 

“Okay, let’s get you to bed,” you said, gently pushing him awake. He sleepily stumbled back into your bedroom and collapsed on the bed, almost instantly falling back asleep.

You took the couch, but despite the money you spent splurging on the extra cushioned sofa, no sleep came to you. 

It wasn’t any physical discomfort that fueled your insomnia, but rather, the events of the previous evening. Lily had actually left Oscar. She had finally pulled the plug.

Yes, in some ways, it was expected. But at the same time, you couldn’t imagine a version of your best friend that wasn’t madly in love with his girlfriend. 

From the outside, though, you couldn’t blame Lily one bit. You wondered what had been the last straw. 

You could think of three possible moments. First: The Apartment. 

“I’m moving to Monaco,” Oscar began, and you felt your heart drop in your stomach. Of course, one day he’d make it to Monaco. That was the dream of every Formula 1 driver, right? The beauty of the French Riviera and tax evasion. And you’d be left at your aging flat in the UK, waiting for those precious few days a year where he was free to grace you with his presence. 

“That’s amazing!” you said, only half believing it to be true. 

“In a few weeks I’m gonna go look at condos. Come with me? Lily can’t get off work.”

“Of course,” you replied. You’d already been to Monaco before for Oscar’s races, but you wouldn’t turn down any reason to get out of the constant dreary rain of the UK. 

You felt like a celebrity as you coasted through the Monte Carlo streets in the passenger side of Oscar’s McLaren, on your way to tour fabulous properties for your best friend (the actual celebrity). You breathed in the saltwater breeze, fresh and tinged with the air of wealth and splendor.

But it hurt your heart to know that you were helping your best friend leave. You imagined him getting up and doing his morning runs along the harbor, the sun blazing down the strained muscles on his back. Then you laughed to yourself at the thought of Oscar, the pastiest Aussie you knew, getting sunburnt. 

At the first property you met the realtor, who (after mistaking you for Lily; not the first time, and certainly wouldn’t be the last) took the pair of you to different condos throughout the day. 

Oscar decided on the final one you saw; two bedrooms, plenty of natural light, and a great view. Elegant, refined and practical—just like Oscar himself. 

The realtor handed him the paperwork and left as you stood on the balcony, looking at the beauty of the city before you. You were quiet, unusually so, and Oscar noticed. 

He sat the paperwork on the kitchen counter and walked onto the balcony next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice lowered. “You’re gonna make such beautiful memories here.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me now?”

You smiled and laughed. “A little,” you admitted, “I can’t help it. I’ll miss you all.” 

“You could always come with us. You seem to like it here,” he teased, tilting his head toward the edge of the balcony.

“You’d have to give me a raise if I was gonna afford Monaco rent prices.” You’d been running Oscar’s merch store and social media for the past few years, making a great wage, but nowhere near the immense wealth you’d need to call a place like this home. You joked with him, knowing Oscar actually had nothing to do with how much you got paid. 

“I would if I could. But, I mean, if you had a place to stay it wouldn’t really be that bad.”

“Are you suggesting I move into your guest room?”

Now he laughed. “No, but I’m just saying, if you had an apartment, you could make it work.”

You raised an eyebrow, confused, but trying to go along with the joke. “Well, sure, but apartments don’t just appear out of thin air.”

“You never know.” Oscar scratched the back of his neck and looked away, a sign of the awkwardness that now blanketed your moment on the balcony. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, theoretically, if someone were to have a spare apartment that they weren’t using, you could live there and Monaco would be a reasonable place to live, no?”

You didn’t answer his question, instead just giving him another confused glance until he gave up whatever he was trying to say. He still couldn’t meet your gaze. 

“Look—I don’t want to live so far away from my friend. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Oscar, you…”

“I got you an apartment.”

“You… bought me an apartment. In Monaco.” It came out more like a statement than a question, evidence of your shock. He reached into his pocket and dug out a key, holding it out to you.

You just looked at him with an incredulous expression. “Oscar, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?”

“How much was it?” 

“I have more than enough money.”

“Answer the question.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “About 4 million?” 

Your eyes widened in shock. “Before you say anything,” he began, “I made over 30 million last year. I have more money than I’d ever know what to do with, so why not just spend it all on the people I love?” 

“Oscar… I can’t, that’s too much.”

“Will you at least go look at it with me? Actually, I’m driving, so you don’t have a choice,” he joked, walking back into the apartment. “Let’s go.”

You sighed, smiling to yourself. There was no way you could let Oscar buy you a 4 million dollar apartment, but also, how could you not? The wind whipped through your hair as you rolled down the window of his McLaren, drinking in the beauty of the city around you. 

The apartment was smaller than the one he had picked for himself and Lily, but you didn’t mind one bit. It was perfectly cosy, and God, the view was spectacular. You could see the whole city from his apartment, but here, you could see the water. You stepped on the balcony and took a deep breath, taking in the sound of the ocean waves beneath you. 

Oscar followed you. “It’s a bit small, but I figured you’d like the view.”

“Oscar…”

“If you really don’t want it, I can rent it out. But I’d much rather have you close.” He held out the keys again. “What do you say?”

You could have told him you needed more time to think about it, but deep down, you already knew what you wanted. You took the keys. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Oscar. Seriously.”

“No need to thank me.” He smiled.

Back in the UK, he showed Lily the photos he had taken of the condo he had chosen for them as they went over the paperwork one last time.

He grabbed the pen to scratch out one of the boxes Lily had checked, hoping she wouldn’t notice. 

“Oh, did I mess something up?” Shit. She leaned over his shoulder, reading the paperwork aloud. “Please indicate if you own any additional properties in the principality of Monaco.” She looked at Oscar. “You already have a property there?” 

“Oh, erm, yeah,” he said, hoping the conversation would end there. 

“How come I never heard about this?” 

“Um, I just got it a bit ago.”

Lily could sense her boyfriend’s hesitancy. “Is this something I wasn’t supposed to know about?”

“Oh, no,” he said, “it’s not like that. I just didn’t think to mention it.”

“So, what is this property?”

“An apartment.” 

Lily hated feeling like she was having to interrogate Oscar, but clearly there was some piece of the puzzle missing that was causing his reluctance. 

“An apartment?” she questioned. “You got another apartment?”

“Yeah, I, um,” he looked at the ceiling while scratching his neck, a clear sign of his nervousness, “I was planning on giving it to YN.”

“You bought YN an apartment in Monaco? When were you planning on telling me about this?” 

His walls of defense had finally broken down. “It’s not a big deal. I made more than enough last season, I could afford it.  And it’s just easier to have her there for the brand shoots and media stuff. Plus, I mean, she came to London to support me after graduation, even though I know she hates it here. I just figured I should repay the favor.”

“...Okay,” Lily began, her voice tinged with skepticism. “So, you do realize what this looks like, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, my boyfriend bought an apartment for his “best friend” and tried to hide it from me. That’s the kind of thing cheating husbands do in movies, buy an apartment for their mistress for her to keep it quiet.”

Oscar wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, the air quotes Lily placed around “best friend” or the insinuation that he had been unfaithful. 

“Lily, seriously? I’m not cheating on you, I love you and you know that.”

“When were you going to tell me about this?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. You know YN and I have been friends forever, it’s not like I did this for some random woman. I don’t appreciate being accused of lying.”

“But you were lying by omission.”

“Lily—”

“You know, nothing against her, but one of the reasons I was looking forward to this move was having more…us time. Without YN.” 

The statement brought a bitter taste to his mouth. Despite what she had said, it seemed like Lily did have something against you.

“You know, this kind of thing is why I was putting off telling you about it.”

“What are you saying?” she asked. Oscar knew he was tempting fire, but he didn’t care.

He continued, “You’re freaking out because I did something kind for a friend. I’m allowed to do whatever I want with my money.”

“I never said you weren’t, and I’m not freaking out. But I guess I’m just such a horrible person for saying I want to spend more time with my boyfriend.”

“If you’re putting down my “best friend” to do it,” he said, mocking her air quotes, “then yeah, that’s not cool.” 

“Oscar, you’re being so…weird about all of this. I’m not insulting YN. I just want to spend more time with you.”

“We’re literally going on vacation in February!”

“With friends. You invited your friends to our romantic getaway, Oscar.”

“You know I only have so much time off during the off season, and I’m spending most of it with realtors and accountants and eight thousand other people preparing us for this move. God forbid I want to invite my friends to Italy with us. Not everything can be just us, Lily.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “I’m done with this conversation.”

The second next instance you could think of happened on the trip.

It was a beautiful getaway to the Amalfi Coast, your dream destination that you’d somehow never made it to.

The group of Oscar’s friends, including you and Lando, had plans to come and go, with everyone being gone before the fourteenth so that Oscar and Lily could have their Valentine's Day date. Of course, you knew nothing of the arguments they’d had in the past about this, but you had common sense enough to not be a third wheel. Oscar thought this was a good enough compromise. 

Well, he thought. 

From the moment he picked you up from the airport, you could tell that the energy was different than usual. He blamed it on jet lag, but you knew better. You knew your best friend too well.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the problem was between him and Lily. She was colder towards him; not enough for anyone but you and him to notice, but still there and undeniable. 

Even weirder was Lily’s…preoccupation, it seemed, with pointing out single and attractive men to you. It wasn’t a hushed reality that you were single, and had been for some time. You'd given up on dating a long time ago—you knew that you had already found the love of your life, and he just happened to be Lily’s boyfriend.

But, of course, you’d never tell anyone this. Lots of people were confused because you seemed so fine being single. But you thought that Lily, one of your best friends (at least, by association), would know that you weren’t really interested in meeting anyone. 

You sat with Lily in a restaurant overlooking the coast, the balcony having been rented out by Oscar for one of your last dinners. You all were waiting for him and Lando to join you, passing the time by ordering wine and appetizers.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Lily said, gesturing her head to your waiter that was walking back into the main restaurant. 

You didn’t really know what to say. You glanced at him through the glass wall. “Lily, he most definitely plays for the other team, if you know what I mean,” you joked, reaching for a slice of bread on the table. “I didn’t know that was your type.”

“Well I don’t mean for me, I meant for you.”

You chuckled. “For me?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you want to get yourself a hot Italian man?”

“I’m perfectly happy being single.” You tried to diffuse the awkward conversation, keeping a kind tone in your voice as you ate the bread and looked into the distance at the coastline.

“Oh, come on. We’ll get you someone, don’t worry.”

“I really am fine being single.”

“You know who else is single?” she asked, clearly ignoring your protests. “Lando!”

You laughed aloud. “Oh God, no. If I wanted to be cheated on, I would have stayed with my ex. Besides, Oscar would kill him.”

A curious fact: Oscar had never approved of a single person you had ever introduced him to. You had to spend hours talking him out of running over your ex with his F1 car after you found out about his infidelity. 

“Oh, who cares what Oscar thinks? I think you should go for it,” she said, watching as the waiter returned to pour your glasses of wine. 

“Lily,” you said, holding your glass, ready to take a sip, “I don’t want to be in a relationship, like, at all. It’s just…not for me.” You sipped the wine, but through the reflection on the glass, you could see that Lily had pursed her lips in an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“If you want me to stop third-wheeling you and Oscar, you can just say so,” you joked as the boys made their way to the balcony to join you. 

You didn’t know it, but your joke cut deep in Lily’s heart. 

Nothing was said about it during the dinner, but Lily’s strange energy continued. It quickly became uncomfortable how much she was pushing Lando and you to interact. 

And when you all made your way to a local nightclub after the dinner, it didn’t get any better. Lando quickly got himself lost in the crowd, and you were once again left to be the third wheel. 

You could tell that Lily was getting annoyed, but to be fair, she was also annoying you. 

“Go dance with Lando!” she shouted over the thumping bass. She gestured to the opposite corner of the small club, where Lando was currently making out with some random Italian woman. 

You pointed this fact out to Lily, who just grimaced. 

“Do you just want me to go away?” you joked.

“Yes!” she said, and you were taken aback, because she was definitely not joking. 

Oscar was at the bar getting drinks, far enough away that he couldn’t hear. To be honest, you didn’t even want to be in this club anymore. 

So you snuck out and began your walk home without telling any of them.

As you walked along the cobblestone streets, Oscar handed Lily a drink, pausing when he noticed that you weren’t there to receive yours. “Where’s YN?” he asked.

“She wasn’t feeling well, so she headed back,” Lily said. 

“By herself? Should we go check on her?”

Lily wanted to roll her eyes. “No, she’s just tired. C’mon, let’s go dance!”

Oscar obeyed, but couldn’t ignore the feeling inside him that something about this whole night had been odd. 

The next time he saw Lando, he decided to say something about it. 

“Hey mate, are you going back soon?” he asked. Lando nodded, clearly tipsy. “Can you check on YN? Lily said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Sure,” he said, annoyed at the mention of you again.

He did come back to the house soon, but with an equally drunk and giggly woman on his arm, the same girl he had been making out with in the corner of the club. 

You didn’t expect any of them for a long time, so you sat in the living room of the AirBNB, watching the waves cascade into the shore, romanticizing this complicated feeling that coiled itself inside of you. 

That was, until Lando stumbled in. 

His eyes got wide as dinner plates upon seeing you. The girl on his arm giggled and walked off into the nearest bathroom. 

“Hey YN,” he slurred. “Are you dying?”

You laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Lily said you were sick.” 

“Nope, I’m good.” 

He looked to the closed door of the bathroom. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“You’re fine. I’m…uh, not interested, anyway. I don’t know what Lily’s been on about today.”

“Oh, thank God,” he exhaled. You laughed, despite the sting of rejection in his relief. “Well, I’ll keep it quiet.”

“I’ve got headphones.”

You made your way to your room and put on your noise cancelling headphones, passing the time by scrolling and catching up on work emails, before falling asleep.

You didn’t sleep through the night, instead waking up in the early hours of the morning, when the sun was just beginning to round itself along the golden coast. You left your room to get a glass of water, not expecting to see the rest of your friends in the kitchen.

Lily looked hungover as hell, leaning her elbow on the counter, her hand resting uncomfortably on her forehead. Oscar was leaning against the counter on the other side while Lando sat at the bar next to Lily, drinking something out of a mug. His flight home was going to leave soon. 

You nodded to your three companions as you sipped your water glass, feeling the tension around you like an oncoming migraine. 

“You feeling okay?” Oscar asked. “Lily said you weren’t doing well last night.”

“Ah, just tired,” you answered. Lily had lied to both Lando and Oscar. That was a conversation for another day. 

“Well rested now?” Lily asked, her voice tinged with anger and fake sympathy.

“I’m fine,” was all you could answer. You glanced at Oscar, who gave you a knowing look. You had no idea what had gotten into her.

“Are you feeling okay, Lily? You look like you’re about to throw up,” you said, a more genuine concern in your voice.

“I’m fine too,” she said, clearly not fine.

Lando’s Uber pulled up, and you took the opportunity to help him transfer all his bags in one trip.

“Do you have any idea what’s going on with her?” he asked as you heaved the suitcase up into the trunk.

“No idea,” you answered. “Before you all got to the restaurant last night she was being…weird. For the record, I didn’t put her up to any of that.”

“I figured as much. You’re not the type.” Lando was right—it was common knowledge that you were happily single. 

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. For the record, it made me uncomfortable too.”

He exhaled. “Eh, we’re cool. No hard feelings, yeah? I’m sure she’ll snap out of it.” 

“I hope so,” you said, giving him a wave as the car disappeared into the winding roads of the coast.

Back in the house, you could hear Oscar and Lily whispering to each other. You wanted nothing more than to disappear and act like this weird night and morning had never happened, but unfortunately, you had to cross through the kitchen back to your room. 

A hush went through the room when you entered. You walked as quickly as possible through the kitchen, but were stopped by a voice.

“YN,” Lily called. “I think you should leave.”

“Lily—” Oscar interjected.

“I was just going back to my room anyway,” you explained.

“That’s not what I meant. I think you should go home.”

“Lily, don’t do this—” Oscar pleaded. You just stood in shock.

“Actually, let me clarify,” she continued. “YN, I don’t want you here. Go home.”

“Lily!” Oscar interjected. “Don’t say that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you said, even though it was definitely not fine. “Let me pack and I’ll be on my way.”

You turned and continued back to your room, fully prepared to do as you had just said. But Oscar followed you.

“YN, wait. Stay,” he said. 

“Oscar, it’s fine.”

“I am so sorry that Lily said that, but I want you here.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two or why she’s so upset at me, but if someone tells me to go, I’m not going to overstay my welcome.”

“Still, that was so rude.”

“I’ve got thick skin. I won’t cry myself to sleep over it.” You looked out the window to the coast. “Look, I’ll just find someplace else to stay. A hotel for a few nights is cheaper than trying to reschedule my flight, anyways.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about me, Osc,” you said, patting his shoulder. “Go talk to her, figure out what’s wrong.” 

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I already know what’s wrong. She’s mad that we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Then go spend time with her.”

“That was the plan! But, I mean, I’m pissed that she said that to you. And she spent all day yesterday trying to set you and Lando up, which was fucking weird.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled with a twinge of laughter. “Look, with my record I can’t exactly give you love advice, but I don’t mind leaving. You all clearly need some space, anyway. Just text me if you need anything, okay?”

Oscar gave you a flat smile and nod. 

You packed and quickly booked a private room at a local hostel for the next few days, planning to enjoy the last few days as a solo trip. You truly didn’t care, but in the back of your mind, you hoped that everything would be okay. You never received that text from Oscar. 

Back at the house, Oscar and Lily were alone. And neither of them were happy.

“Just fucking go with her if you’re that mad,” Lily said, egging Oscar on. He had always been slow to anger, but he couldn’t deny that he was pissed.

“What is wrong with you?” he questioned. “Why would you say that to her? Do you understand how rude that is? And not to mention the fact that you were being fucking weird with her and Lando all night.”

“Oscar, I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“No, I’m pissed!”

“And, as usual, it’s all about your feelings, hm?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act stupid. Do you know how much I’ve put up with because I don’t want to hurt your feelings? Every vacation, every race weekend, she’s always there. And I put up with her because she’s your friend, but I don’t like her, Oscar.” 

“What did she do to you?” he asked. But Lily couldn’t answer. It wasn’t like there had been a specific incident or falling out; in fact, you had always been kind to her. Lily’s silence was all the answer that Oscar needed. 

“You knew that YN and I were a package deal from the beginning.” 

Tears came to Lily’s eyes. “But this was supposed to be our trip. Just us.” 

“Lily, they were only here for a few days. I specifically set it up so that we’d have 2 weeks to ourselves after they left. Is that not enough?” 

She was silent, at first. Then came a question out of left field. 

“Were you going to propose?” she asked.

Oscar made a face. “Propose?”

“I thought the point of the trip was that you were going to propose.” She looked away, trying to hide her tears. “I’m tired of feeling like an outsider in my own relationship. I’m sick of YN third wheeling, so I thought if I set her up with Lando, maybe she’d leave us alone for a while.” Her voice was tinged with an angry mocking. 

She continued, softer, “Oscar, I want to be your wife, I want to grow old with you—”

But Oscar had little sympathy for her. “That’s really what all this was about? Lily, I’m not proposing any time soon.”

“We’ve been together for nearly five years.”

“I know. But with the season starting soon—”

“There’ll always be another season, another race. Is your plan to just marry me when you retire?” The sarcasm had returned to her voice. “Do you even want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. But we’re young, we have time. I’m in no rush.” 

“I feel like you don’t care about what I want at all.”

“Lily, I’m trying. But I feel like you want me to cut off my best friend and settle down at 22. You’re asking things of me that I can’t give you.”

“Then why are we even doing this?” Lily asked.

“Because I love you, and I want this to work! But Lily, you can’t treat my friends like that. If you’re angry at me, talk to me, but don’t take it out on them. YN is an important part of my life, too.”

“I’m well aware.”

Oscar sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Lily announced, leaving the conversation altogether. 

When she woke up, her head was pounding. Oscar was asleep beside her, his back towards her, no warmth even in his unconscious state. She had slept through the entire day—the moon hung high in the sky. 

As she quietly made her way to the kitchen and got some water and a snack, the memory of what had happened came back, rushing over her. She felt horrible. 

The sleep and food had reset her mind. Make no mistake, she was still upset at Oscar, but what he had said was right—she shouldn’t have taken it out on you. She needed to make it right. 

She texted you. Hey YN, are you awake? I’d like to talk. In person, if you can. 

Only a few minutes later you responded, affirming that you were available and sending the address of your hostel. Lily got there quickly, quietly walking through the rooms to your private room in the back. When you shut the door behind you and you both sat on the bed, she broke down. 

“YN,” Lily began, “I am so sorry about this morning. Truthfully, I was upset at Oscar and I took it out on you, and I shouldn't have. I was so rude.”

“It’s okay,” you assured.

“No, it’s not,” Lily interjected. But she seemed at a loss for words. “I just… sometimes, I feel like I hardly get any alone time with Oscar anymore.”

“Because I’m always there?” you joked, not knowing how close to the truth you really were. Lily didn’t respond. “Look, if you want me to take a step back, I can do that.”

Her response was quiet. “Would that be too much to ask?”

“No.” But it was, in a way. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, but your expression gave away nothing. “I understand.”

“I don’t think he loves me anymore,” Lily confessed. You normally didn’t want to know the details of their relationship, because the truth was too heavy to bear. But it seemed cruel to cut her off. “I feel like he never wants to be around me, like he prefers his work and his friends over me. I want to get married and he doesn’t. He keeps saying it's too soon and he’s busy, but it’s been nearly five years! I mean, how long does he want me to wait?”

You felt uncomfortable, not sure how to comfort your best friend's girlfriend. So you were honest. “I don’t know, Lily. I don’t know what goes on in Oscar’s head any more than you do.”

“Yes you do,” she replied. “You’ve known him longer.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think he’s in love with you.”

“No, no, no,” you said, wrapping Lily in an embrace as she cried. “No, he’s not. He loves you so much.”

“No,” she echoed. “He doesn’t.”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just held her. 

At one point, your phone buzzed, illuminating the screen. Some unimportant notification, but you noticed the date and time more than that. It was past midnight; Valentine’s Day. 

The third instance was during the first weekend of the 2025 season; the Australian Grand Prix.  

You hadn’t heard from Oscar since the trip. You didn’t really know what to say, and part of you was dreading having to speak to him, knowing that your mere presence was now a strain on his relationship.

Of course Lily wanted more time with him. It made sense. You were present at…most things, actually. But Oscar always invited you, and besides, they lived together. If you had known that you had overstayed your welcome, you never would have gone in the first place.

But on the other hand, you and Oscar had been a part of each other’s lives for nearly double the time that Lily had been around. It wasn’t a competition, but you couldn’t shake that sour feeling that rested in your stomach, that if given the chance, Lily would want you gone for good. 

Regardless, between the trip and the grand prix, life went on as normal. It was odd, since your job was literally running all the official OP81 media pages and merch website. You couldn’t not be a part of his life—you made your living by posting memes about him on the internet and organizing all his merch sales.

So, naturally, you went to nearly all the races to take photos of fans, the paddock, and the garage. It was one of your favorite parts of the job. 

But Australia was different. It was Oscar’s home race, and a place full of memories for you. 

Your family had moved to Australia when you were only seven, having absolutely no friends, except the sweet boy next door in your cul de sac. At first he was cold. You thought he hated you. But you were nothing if not stubborn. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday; for Christmas, you asked for a pink motorized jeep, just like the black one that Oscar—the neighbour boy, back then—had. You squealed for joy when you got it. And the very first thing you did was challenge him to a race.

He ignored you. So you rammed your car into his, causing both of them to break. Ever since, somehow, you’d been inseparable. 

Your parents traveled a lot for work, so instead of constantly going with them, you found yourself staying with the Piastri family for months at a time. Nicole truly felt like your second mom, and Hattie was the sister you never had. And Oscar was…Oscar. It was impossible to describe the bond between you. 

Your parents were never too keen on Oscar, though. They kept it quiet when you were little, but as you grew, their dislike became more outward.

He was 14, leaving for boarding school in the UK. When he told you, you cried. That’s the only time he ever saw you cry.

You wanted to go with him, but your parents couldn’t afford it. He promised he wouldn’t let your friendship die, and he was true to his word. When he got into the higher formulas in racing, he helped you get your job so that you all would never be that far from each other again. 

But your parents always said he was using you, stringing you along, exploiting your labor. Though you’d never admitted it to another soul, they knew you well enough to understand that you loved him. 

You cut your parents off a long time ago. 

Sometimes the fans were worse. Half of them loved you—the half that understood that you could give them access to your idol—but the other half of them called you a beneficiary of nepotism, a gold digger, or a homewrecker. You learned at a young age to develop thick skin. 

And it was how you both behaved on race weekends that really exemplified the difference between you and Lily. 

You liked to be everywhere at once—in the garage trying to interpret the engineers’ technical jargon, in the grandstands taking photos of fans, in the pitlane shooting the shit with the race stewards. You always wore Oscar’s merch, and you wanted to be in the middle of all the action.

Lily, in contrast, was more reserved. She always looked put together, and frankly stunning, at all her appearances. She preferred to watch the race from the comfort and privacy of McLaren hospitality, and when she did interact with fans, she was respectful but short, very conscious of her space.

Neither of you were better or worse than the other. But no one could deny that you were polar opposites. 

You got to Australia before Oscar himself did, having been invited to spend a few days with your surrogate family before you’d have to stay in the hotel, per F1 employee policy. Nicole had told Oscar, who you assumed had told Lily, and when you didn’t hear anything for a few days before you were meant to fly out, you thought everything was fine.

Of course, you thought wrong. 

You spent 3 days with Oscar’s family, relishing the warm feeling of belonging that you’d missed. The Piastri guest room felt more like your own childhood bedroom. Of course, Nicole asked how you’d been, but you were politely distant, wanting to respect the fact that Oscar and Lily’s relationship was none of your business. 

When the pair finally landed in Australia and made their way to Oscar’s childhood home for the night, though, things worsened. 

When Nicole got back from picking them up from the airport, you were in the kitchen prepping dinner. Hearing the front door close, you looked up and smiled, greeting the group.

“YN! What are you doing here?” Lily asked, her voice tentative. 

Nicole answered for you. “Oh, she’s been here since Sunday. I’m so happy to have all my kids under the same roof again,” she joked, turning to Oscar to reach up and pinch his cheeks.

Lily just gave a pained smile. 

You didn’t know what to do. You hadn’t talked to Oscar in nearly a month. You wanted to honor her wishes—but it seemed like her wish was for you to vanish into thin air. 

The rest of the night you were unusually quiet, trying to blend into the background. It wasn’t difficult for Nicole to notice that something was up, but she knew better than to bring it up in front of the whole table. 

After dinner she wanted everyone to gather in the living room and watch a movie, which you quickly bowed out of, complaining of exhaustion. 

As the credits rolled, Nicole leaned over to whisper to Oscar, “Is everything okay with YN?” 

Lily overheard and interjected, “She’s fine.” Nicole raised an eyebrow. 

Oscar responded, “The home grand prix is always busy for her.”

The answer wasn’t sufficient enough to crush Nicole’s suspicions, but she didn’t have any more time to pry as her son and his girlfriend quickly decided to retire for the night themselves. 

The next morning, as everyone was packing to get to the hotel, Nicole decided to ask you herself if everything was okay. But predictably, again, you just said that you were fine. And the morning was so hectic that she didn’t really have the time to interrogate you.

Once you all got settled and to the track for media day, work mode took over, and you forgot all about the tension at the Piastri family home. Though you quite literally were paid to follow Oscar around all day, you felt more like the paparazzi than his friend, hardly ever speaking to him.

And as you went back to the hotel room alone to edit and post for tonight, you felt like a stranger in your own body. 

You didn’t want to do this anymore. You missed your friend, but more importantly, you missed being yourself.

But what were you supposed to do? You loved Oscar. Oscar loved Lily. Lily hated you. 

You were stuck between three impossible choices: stick around and be forced to subdue yourself into a shell of your true personality until Lily decided she wasn’t upset at you anymore, lose everything you’d ever built by quitting and moving away like you knew she wanted, or continue being yourself and possibly cost Oscar the love of his life. 

Yeah, this was a wonderful predicament you found yourself in, through no fault of your own.

You moved like a zombie through the free practices and qualifying. When it was finally time for the grand prix, you assumed your usual place in the McLaren garage, for work if nothing else.

But then, Oscar won. 

No team rules. No convoluted strategies. Just Oscar doing what he did best.

You couldn’t hear your own thoughts over the shout of the garage and the crowd in the distance, cheering out for their hometown hero. You ran out with everyone to the barricades to greet your best friend.

Though he still had his helmet on, you could see the effects of his smile in his squinted eyes. He pumped his fist in the air, cheering to himself before running to the barricades to jump into the waiting arms of the crowd. You cheered with them, overwhelmed with pride. 

Oscar locked eyes with you, cupping your face with his gloved hands and pressing the top of his helmet to your forehead. “I did it, YN!”

“You did!” you yelled, smiling ear to ear. 

Of course, people took photos. Photos that Oscar posted later that night. 

Lily didn’t like it—the sweet intimacy of the moment, front and center on Oscar’s Instagram page. Why would you post that? It was like you were taunting her. 

Lily sat on the edge of the hotel bed while Oscar showered, both of them preparing to meet you, Lando, and a few McLaren team members to celebrate his win. 

When Oscar emerged from the bathroom, Lily asked him, “Osc, can you do me a favor?”

“Hm?” he murmured as he dried his hair. 

“Can you take down that picture that YN posted?”

“YN posted something?” he questioned, grabbing his phone. As his social media manager, you had access to all his accounts, but occasionally he’d post something himself, too. “I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

Lily pursed her lips. “The first picture from the post she made an hour ago.” 

“Oh, this?” Oscar held up his phone. “I posted that.” 

Lily was silent. 

“Why do you want me to delete it? It’s a good photo.” 

Lily just looked at him. Oscar sighed and archived the photo. “There, happy?”

His tone was much harsher than he intended, but to be honest, he was getting tired of the constant fighting, and his patience was wearing thin. 

Lily kept quiet, just silently going into the bathroom to start doing her makeup.

In the lobby of the hotel an hour or so later, you awkwardly stood with Lando waiting for the couple to arrive. Once again you were torn—should you miss out on celebrating with your best friend on his first ever home win, or should you go and strain his relationship further? 

You were just going to say screw it and go back up to your room when you saw Lily and Oscar walking towards you. Though there was no tension between them, there was no love either. They both just looked…tired. 

Everyone had decided to keep it relaxed for tonight, just doing a nice group dinner with Oscar’s family. It was fine, albeit a tad awkward, because you were sitting between Lando and some McLaren employees you didn’t know, at the opposite end of the table from Lily, Oscar, and his family. 

You knew this couldn’t continue forever. Something had to break. And it did, when you and Lando ended up back in Oscar and Lily’s room, drinking your way through a bottle of nice champagne. 

The alcohol seemed to have calmed Lando’s nerves, as he was actually normal with you. And Oscar was a blushy, smiling mess and he and his teammate laughed at something you couldn’t remember. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but the mood was ruined by Lily’s drunken slurring. “Oh my God, YN, just shut up! Go away!” she giggled and grabbed Oscar’s arm. 

Usually, you were calm, letting any infraction roll off of you like waves on the beach. But the alcohol emboldened you. 

“Lily, what the fuck is your problem with me?” you asked.

The mood shifted, and Lily gave you a look of disgust. “I was just joking, God.”

“No you weren’t.” 

Lando chimed in. “Well, I think I gotta call it a night.” He got up and patted Oscar on the back. The two men stood up to walk out, leaving just you and Lily alone in the hotel room. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but don’t act like there isn’t one. It’s obvious that you don’t want me around, I don’t know what I ever did to you.”

Lily had clearly been sobered up by your seriousness. Still, she burst into tears. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I keep doing this.” 

You sighed, unable to keep your anger in the face of her cries. She continued, “I just… Oscar and I were each other’s first everything. First love, first kiss…first time. I love him so much.”

“I’m not trying to steal him from you.” 

Lily was quiet, and so were you. Something she had said gave you pause. 

They were each other’s first everything—no, that couldn’t be true. 

Because you were Oscar’s first. 

It had been many years—you were both 18—and you had never spoken about what happened. But you remembered. 

He came back home for Christmas from the UK. It was before he had even met Lily. 

You welcomed him home with an embrace—even with the frequent phone calls you had, you couldn’t help but miss your best friend, now here before you, in the flesh.

Neither of you could sleep that night, and somehow you both found yourself in Oscar’s childhood bedroom, quiet in the early hours of the morning.

Though it was warm outside, Nicole had a habit of keeping the house frigid, so you and Oscar huddled together under the handmade quilt that decorated his bed. The moment was tender and quiet, together in the soft darkness. 

“Do you like it in the UK?” you asked him, your question searching for a genuine answer. 

“It’s okay, I guess. It’s what I have to do for the races.”

“But do you ever get…lonely?”

He paused. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

You traced small circles on the skin of your leg. The closeness of the moment was uncomfortable. 

“But you have friends, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re not, y’know, friends for life.”

“I get you.” You really did, not having many friends of your own since Oscar left. “But you must have a ton of girls, though. They all want the cool race car driver.” You smiled, trying to use your humor to lighten the intimacy of the moment. 

“No,” was all he answered. “And if I had a girlfriend, you’d be the first to know, anyway.” In the dark of the room, you could only see the outline of his features, but you could feel the pull of his eyes looking at you. “What, do you have a boyfriend? Is that why you’re bringing this up?” he asked. 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“What do you mean, of course?”

“I mean, why would I have a boyfriend? I have no friends and half the people at school think you don’t even exist.”

“What?” he laughed.

“Well, yeah, when I say my best friend drives race cars in the UK, most people think I’m making you up.” 

“Shit,” he laughed. 

“So, yeah, it doesn’t exactly get me dates,” you laughed. You felt your throat stiffen. “I haven’t even had my first kiss or anything.”

The silence in the room was thick. “I haven’t either,” Oscar confessed. 

You found it hard to believe. Oscar was handsome, funny, everything a girl could want. Neither of you had ever been social butterflies, though. 

Under the blanket, Oscar reached for your hand, placing it in his. Your heart was beating out of your chest; you had never even held a boy’s hand. 

“We could just…do it now,” he said. “Just to get it over with.” He feigned his usual nonchalance, but you could feel the increase of his heartbeat and the ever so subtle tremble in his voice. 

It would be easy for you to laugh it off like a joke. But you knew it wasn’t. And you wanted him. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice breathy with nervousness. 

You sat up on the bed, and saw the dark outline of his figure leaning towards you, gently tilting your head. 

And when his lips met yours, it felt like home. Like everything in your entire life had left you up to this moment, here in the warmth of your best friend’s childhood bedroom.

The kiss lasted longer than you anticipated, but when he did pull away, it was too soon. You were grateful for the darkness that hid your expression. But even without the light, Oscar could see the truth behind your eyes.

“We could…keep going.”

“Okay,” you repeated. 

One of his hands found your waist now, pulling you closer, as his other hand pushed back your hair that had fallen in your face.

Once again his lips met yours. It wasn’t like a spark within you—more like a calming, a sense of peace and safety. Of all the boys you’d crushed on before, Oscar was different. You trusted him with everything. 

And you showed him so. 

He slipped his tongue past your teeth, tentative, as if he was scared to do the wrong thing. But you let him close the gap, your own tongue gliding along his, goosebumps going down your back the closer you got. 

He wanted to put his hands all over you, but he was nervous.

He pulled away. “I…don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t either. Is it actually your first time?”

“Yeah. You don’t mind me being your first?”

“I trust you.”

So you both took it slow, taking each other’s hands where you wanted to be touched, not focusing on anything but the other. 

The love you made was quiet and simple, beautiful yet imperfect. But you didn’t need perfect. You just needed him. 

The next morning, you slipped out of his room before anyone was awake, afraid of what would happen if they found out.

But no one ever did. Oscar never said a word about it ever again, and neither did you; after the holidays, he went back to school and met Lily, and the rest was history. 

But you remembered. And as you sat in that hotel room years later waiting for him, you felt numb. 

By the time he got back Lily had calmed down, but you couldn’t stand to be there anymore. You announced your departure, but Oscar decided to walk you out, too. 

You closed the door behind you, but Oscar pulled you to not leave so quickly. 

“Hey, is everything alright with you and Lily?”

“No. It’s not.” 

He sighed. “I don’t know why she’s being like this.”

You just stared at him, your face blank. 

“What,” he asked, “don’t tell me you’re mad too.”

“Was Lily your first?”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” 

Oscar looked over his shoulder. “I’d really rather not talk about this in the hallway…”

“So do you want to go in the room and talk about it? In front of her? Because you lied to one of us. Which one was it?”

“YN, it’s—”

“Which one of us did you lie to, Oscar?”

He let out a sharp exhale, knowing there was no way to escape your line of questioning. He leaned down to whisper to you. “I didn’t lie to her. She just…assumed, and I never corrected her.”

“That’s still lying.”

“You really think I should go in there and tell her the truth?” His voice dripped with frustration.

“Yes. She deserves to know.”

“You know why I never told her? Because I knew this shit would happen, she’d get jealous and try to push you out of my life. If I tell her now, she’ll make me choose between the two of you.”

“Do you blame her?” you asked, astounded at how Oscar could be so clueless.

“Seriously?” he retorted. “You think she’s justified in doing all this to you? The entire reason she’s mad is because she knows if she tries to make me choose, I’m not choosing her.”

“Don’t say that! Oscar, she’s your girlfriend. You should love her.”

“I do. But things just…aren’t the same anymore. It’s like she wants me to change my whole life for her. I can’t do that.”

Unbeknownst to you, Lily got up from the bed and walked to the door, pressing her ear to it, where she could faintly hear you and Oscar arguing. 

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Oscar continued. “And if you don’t want her to split us up, just let me handle it.”

“Oscar, she deserves better than this. I’ve missed spending time with you, but… you’ve got to tell her the truth.”

Lily opened the door. “I knew it,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “I knew you were cheating.”

Your eyes were wide as dinner plates as Oscar cursed to himself. “Lily, I swear to God that is not what happened—”

“Don’t. Don’t even try,” she said, but Oscar pushed his way back into the room anyway. He looked back to you, and even without words, you knew it was time to go. You needed some sleep.

Unfortunately, Oscar would not be getting any sleep tonight. 

“Oscar, just stop lying to me! I’m tired of this!’ Lily cried, curling her legs to her chest as she sat on the bed.

“Lily, I swear, I have never cheated on you. What YN and I were talking about was something from a long time ago.”

“We’ve been together for five years!”

“Can I just explain myself? Please?”

Lily just broke down in sobs. “Do whatever. I don’t care anymore.”

Oscar sighed. “Look, I…I have lied to you. You weren’t my first. YN was.” He looked at his girlfriend, who was still just silently crying. “It was before we even met, and it was just once, and we’ve never done anything since. I would never cheat on you, I love you and—”

“When and where was it?” Lily asked, cutting him off with her statement more like a command than a question.

“The December before we met, when I came home for Christmas.”

“In your bed?”

He nodded.

“Oscar, I slept in that bed next to you the other night.”

He said nothing. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, her voice cracking. “Haven’t I been good to you?”

“Lily, I promise, I love you more than anything.”

“Then why would you lie to me for five years?”

Oscar took a deep breath and said, “Because I was afraid you would be upset. People don’t understand that me and YN are just friends. I mean, we were raised together, she’s like my sister.”

“You had sex with her. You took each other’s virginity.”

“It wasn’t…like that.”

“How can it not be like that? Do you even hear what you’re saying?” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”

About an hour after you left, you heard a knock on your hotel room door, and you answered. It was, of course, Lily. 

“Tell me whatever Oscar wouldn’t,” she said. Her eyes were still puffy and red. 

You welcomed her in, beginning to tell her the entire truth. “Oscar and I had sex when we were 18, before he met you. We never talked about it afterwards. After you met I didn’t want to bring it up, I just assumed he’d do the right thing and tell you. I didn’t want to pry into your relationship.”

So, your stories matched. And Lily knew that you were nothing if not honest. 

“Do you love him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend.”

“No, I mean, are you in love with him?” 

You didn’t answer immediately. What were you supposed to say?

Tears fought their way to the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I don’t know,” you began, but that was a lie, you did know. “I guess…I have a special type of love for him. We grew up together. When we were younger, yes, I wanted to be his girlfriend. But then he met you, and… Lily, he was so happy! I just…I realized that I wanted him to be happy more than I wanted him to be mine. So I made peace with the fact that this is how it had to be.”

Lily was overwhelmed with your honesty, in the face of so much deception. 

You continued, “I don’t blame you for being upset at me. Oscar should have been honest about what our friendship was like from the very beginning instead of lying to you. But I swear, we haven’t done anything while you all have been together. I’ve been cheated on and I know how much that hurts, I would never do that to anyone else. I’m so sorry it ended up like this.”

“No,” Lily said, “You’re the only one who’s been honest with me throughout all of this. Thank you.”

After that, you hadn’t heard from Oscar after that for a long time. Or, at least, a few weeks felt like a long time to you. But you had other pressing matters—your workload was through the roof with Oscar’s wins. Lando had snatched himself a win too, setting up an early battle for the championship. It was too early into the season to call it, but you knew Oscar was feeling the pressure with the possibility of his first championship dangling so close in front of him. So you kept your distance, not wanting to be a distraction.

That was, until he called you, saying just those three painful words.

“Lily left me.”

The sun was cresting over the horizon, illuminating the thick glass of your balcony and flooding light into your living room. You hadn’t gotten an ounce of rest. 

From your bedroom, you could hear Oscar snoring. You just let him sleep. 

God knows you both needed it. 

[weirdero]

I want to talk about Helena’s performance as Helly and her deep rooted misunderstanding of who Helly is as a person. And just in general how I think she perceives her especially after yesterday’s episode.

Helena is incredibly attentive, almost to the point of being terrifying. In the short moments she interacts with anyone, everything in her head is already scripted, calculated, and premeditated. She’s also a great method actress, reacting based on the energy around her. It’s like a stand up comic, constantly adjusting their performance to make sure their actions land. If something doesn’t click, she shifts.

Throughout the past couple of episodes, Helena spends most of her time just trying to go with the flow move with the water, trying to fit in without standing out, constantly monitoring the group and their reactions at every turn. And so far, she was good at it. She can play the part, until her own emotions towards helly start to blind her.

In these two pics she does a quick scan of Irving’s and Marks faces trying to analyze their reactions

Helena knows the group loves Helly. She knows Mark loves Helly. And honestly, I’d bet every dollar in my bank account that it genuinely makes her want to kill herself. She has zero respect for Helly, and she doesn’t need to. To Helena, Helly, and by extension, the group, are low value. Insignificant. At her highest, Helly is just a worker, a cheap extension of herself created with the sole purpose of just being a good employee to be displayed to the public as a little shining lumon puppet. But shit, the bitch can’t even do that. She’s done quite the opposite. So yeah, not a person to be respected or valued.

This particular disdain (and fuck it, I’m just gonna say hate) that Helena carries for Helly spills into the bonfire scene with Milchick.

While Milchick is reading the story, enunciating every word like a second grade elementary school teacher, showing pictures like they’re in a reading circle, I kept wondering to myself if Helena ever experienced something similar to this as a child. How many times has she heard this same story? Or hell, any other old Kier mythology? Lumon, Kier, the Eagan legacy, it’s all she’s ever known. This world is nothing new to her.

Even though I believe Helena is a loyal servant, she probably didn’t love all the weird shit she had to put up with in her childhood. The weight of the Egan legacy probably suffocates her. But she accepted it either way because that was the life she was given. Unlike fucking helly. Fucking helly who’s forced her into this situation to begin with. In my opinion, all of these particular feelings make their way into Helena’s reaction to the story as Helly, which could only be described as a middle schooler who suddenly thinks they’re too old for camp.

I saw this post someone made about this scene, and like shit, yeah, that’s probably right. Helena had one chance to shit on the weird religion that’s been shoved down her throat since birth and she took that chance.

Helena, in this moment, settles for crude, mocking jokes. She probably does this partially out of her own selfish need for Mark’s validation, as well as playing her role trying to fit into the group but I also think it’s a great reflection of her own personal feelings toward Helly. Helly, who would’ve never acted that way. Helly, who is many things, but never cruel. Helena doesn’t seem to understand that. For the moment, Helena takes a step back, flanderizes Helly, reducing her to this cheeky, crude, disruptive little jokester. That’s how Helena views her. With no respect. No nuance. Helly has layers Helena does not care to see. Helly doesn’t just break rules; she actively causes chaos, subverting everything around her. She’s purposefully, and happily, malcontent. A bitch, dare I say, an ungrateful bitch, most likely from Helena’s point of view.

Irving, who keeps testing her, makes her slip a little more. I talked about this a little bit in my last post about severance, but Helena doesn’t take well to being disrespected. She shifts from wanting the group’s (and mostly Mark’s) validation to just wanting to put Irving in his fucking place. These people aren’t equal to her in her mind. They aren’t cut from the same cloth probably not even made from the same fabric. There are levels to this shit, and they are not on her level.

She says what she says. It’s cruel. Mostly, it’s stupid on her part.

And just like Irving said later, and what I said earlier Helly was many things, but…

What Helena did at the bonfire was a fuck up. An especially surprising one coming from a woman as controlling and calculated as her. I’m fully convinced all those little mistakes came from a deep frustration within her. Much of that anger, in my opinion, is stewing from the realization that Helly, someone created by her, literally the source of all of Helena’s recent problems, someone who will stop at nothing to take her down, that person, the woman who’s literally locked up inside her, is more free than she will ever be.

Yes, Helena has no respect for Helly. Yes, she most likely hates that bitch. But when she herself is acting as Helly, it gives her the opportunity to almost let go. She gets the chance to essentially kill the bitch that’s been fucking up her life whilst simultaneously getting a chance to talk to this man who cares so deeply for a version of herself she hates, Even if it’s not the most ideal of situations (it’s not), it’s still something. I think, at the bonfire, she reflects on the ridiculous situation she’s found herself. All this shit caused by some other version of herself that she created, that situation plus all the other shit going down at Lumon is probably alot. And it just all bubbles up inside her. And when she’s given even the smallest opportunity to let anything out, she’s going to take it.

Idk it’s therapeutic in a way I guess.

She’s unfiltered, blunt, and almost carefree in a way that’s shocking almost unsettling. It’s clearly how she sees Helly to some degree, but also her own need to scratch an itch she’s never dared to before. And even though it’s an act of “Helly”, it still leaves a clear aftertaste of Helena.

Keep thinking about these two little moments whilst she’s making her jokes she not only keeps checking on mark’s reaction but also seems to laugh at her self in a way that just seems so genuine almost self deprecating. She acknowledges the ridiculousness of her situation and this dumb ass story she’s probably heard a million times

In my last post about Severance, I mentioned that Helena is the master of speaking her truth without outright saying it. She hides behind walls, but as Helly, she’s free to speak without restraint.

(Also her having sex with mark is a clear way of her expressing this new found freedom with in her role as helly but ima talk about that later)

[your-turn-to-role]

got twins on the brain again, and while i never want to be one to police other peoples' fanart, especially when the official art starts doing this too by the time we hit tlovm, i do think it's a tragedy that the common depiction of the twins these days is as indistinguishable from being elves

bc the fact that as half elves they are easily clockable as outsiders to either humans or elves is a huge part of their story

as someone with a lot of experience in that myself, i can say with certainty that while you want to be able to call both sides of you your identity, in practice the people of that identity excluding you for being not enough like them just makes you feel like you're lying if you call yourself either

and when it comes to vex and vax, as usual, they both respond to that in opposite ways!

vax wants to be human. he has immense nostalgia for the time they had with their mother, and an even more intense hatred for everything about syngorn. every time someone in the campaign mistakes him for an elf he immediately gets set on edge and has to correct them. even with sprigg, where he's pretending not to listen in to sprigg's ramblings, the second sprigg refers to him as the elf boy, he has to jump in with this

vex, on the other hand, wants to be an elf. the bullying she faced in syngorn for being too human destroyed her self esteem, and she's constantly trying to prove she's good enough to be one of them. it doesn't come naturally to her either, her being herself sticks out in a way she finds deeply embarrassing, and so many of all her layers and masks and pretenses have been built up to originally cover a single fact - she just isn't an elf

and skipping over that also means you lose another facet i love, which is that vax moving to zephrah and vex moving to whitestone wasn't just about being near their respective partners

if you take the comics as canon, keyleth was the first half elf either of them had met aside from each other. and keyleth's existence was a revelation for vax - half elves aren't all a product of an interracial relationship. keyleth's parents are both also half elves. zephrah represents generations of half elves, it's the first community he genuinely feels at home in. yes he loves keyleth but also just being around the people of zephrah is the first time he's ever gotten evidence of people like him not being a mistake. he can have an identity that's his own, instead of trying and failing to meet either criteria of his heritage

percy and vex take a different approach. he can't undo all the bullying she faced as a kid, nor can he solve all the world's bigotry, but he can show her that what makes her different is a good thing. the grey hunt title is earned, not given, which means that nothing and no one can take it away from her, not even him. she's not an elf, but she can be better. she's not human, but whitestone isn't just a home to humans anymore. they're rebuilding the city from the ground up, with her at the heart of it. she's earned her place here not because of what she was born as, but because of who she became. she is the foundation. and that makes whitestone more of a home than any place that made her jump through hoops to belong there

[supernotnatural2005]

Sexual Encounters with Dean Winchester - Fantasy

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Exploring kinks with Dean.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings/tags: Smut! (18+), Car wash, Dean's baby cleaning his baby 😜, semi public sex, fluff, swearing, dirty talk, established relationship.

AN: Another one to add to this Kinky-ass series 😅, it was an idea that just came to me and was fun to explore! I hope you guys like this one 💕

Main Masterlist

SEDW Masterlist

The summer heat hung thick in the air at the Salvage Yard. The scent of oil, rust, and sunbaked metal mixing with the warm breeze. Rows of old, abandoned cars stretched across the yard, their hoods popped open like gaping mouths, skeletons of machines long past their prime. 

Bobby’s house stood sturdy and weathered in the centre of it all, with its wraparound porch that held so much history and too many late-night whiskey-fuelled conversations. The old barn loomed in the distance, its doors slightly ajar, housing Bobby’s collection of spare parts, weapons, and God knows what else.

It was quiet now—eerily so. Sam and Bobby had taken off for a supply run, leaving you and Dean alone. And while he was inside tinkering with something—probably cleaning one of his guns for the fifth time today—you were outside, preparing a little surprise.

Dean had let slip a couple of nights ago—after a few celebratory drinks of another case done and dealt with, at the local dive in town— that he had a fantasy. Not some ordinary, run-of-the-mill kink. No, something that was more personal to him. 

His girl, washing his Baby. 

He’d gone into great detail how nothing could be hotter—his two greatest loves, together, covered in soap and water.

And who were you to deny him this fantasy?

Smirking to yourself, you dragged an old radio from the garage, setting it down on the workbench. You placed the cassette tape, you’d dug out of Dean’s box of his beloved tapes, into the compartment and with a flick of the volume dial to the max, the opening chords of Pour Some Sugar on Me blasted through the humid afternoon, cutting through the quiet.

It wasn’t 30 seconds later, the screen door was creaking open.

“The hell?” Dean’s voice floated out, rough with confusion. You didn’t turn to look just yet. You knew exactly what was about to happen.

You dipped the oversized sponge into the bucket of warm, soapy water, wringing it out just enough before gliding it over the hood of the Impala. The sun gleamed off the wet metal, tiny rivulets of water dripping down the sleek black curves of Baby’s body. You bit your lip, pretending to be completely unaware of the way Dean had stopped dead in his tracks.

When you did glance up, you found him standing there, frozen on the back porch, his entire expression comically dumbstruck.

His jaw had quite literally dropped.

A slow, wicked smirk pulled at your lips. Oh, yeah. You had him.

You gave the hood another slow swipe then, for good measure, and bent just a little further than necessary, your tiny denim shorts riding even higher, clinging to the curve of your ass. The white tank top you wore clung to your skin like a second layer, teasing the lace of your bra underneath. 

You could feel his eyes roaming over you, hungry and dark, his entire body going still in that telltale way that meant his self-control was hanging by a damn thread.

Dean let out a strangled groan. “Son of a bitch.”

You kept up the show, swaying your hips in time with the music, letting the heat of the sun mix with the heat of his stare. Then, like you were in some sinful 2000s music video, you lifted the sponge, squeezing it over your chest. Cool, soapy water cascaded down your skin, soaking your tank top completely see-through.

Dean actually stumbled forward a step, like some invisible force was dragging him closer.

“Jesus, fuck.” His voice barely made it past his lips, breathless with something between awe and agony.

You dragged the sponge over your body, teasing, slow, torturous, wringing every ounce of restraint from him. Rolling your hips to the beat, you stretched across the Impala’s hood, putting on a show until the final strums of the song faded out.

Grinning, you turned fully to face him, leaning back against the slick metal, watching the way his chest rose and fell. The way his fists clenched at his sides, his body taut with restraint.

“So…” You tilted your head, your smirk coy. “Is this everything you imagined?”

Dean didn’t answer.

He moved.

In one swift motion, he closed the distance, gripping your waist and lifting you onto the hood with effortless strength. The cool metal met your bare thighs, shocking a gasp from your lips—one he swallowed as his mouth crashed onto yours.

The kiss was desperate, hungry. Claiming.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, arching into him, feeling just how much he’d enjoyed the show. His hands roamed your back, fingers digging into your hips as he dragged you closer, like he couldn’t get enough. The heat of his body, the rough denim of his jeans between your legs—it was intoxicating.

He kissed you like a man starved, all tongue and teeth, devouring you, owning you.

You whimpered when his lips trailed lower, his stubble scraping deliciously against your damp skin.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, voice thick with want, hands gripping your ass as he rocked against you.

You moaned at the friction, rolling your hips into him, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging just to hear the sharp hiss that left his lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

Your breath hitched as he ground against you, slow and deliberate, teasing himself as much as you.

“As much as I’d love to take my time with you,” Dean panted, his voice ragged, “I’m afraid we don’t have a lotta time.”

Your lips curled into a wicked smirk as you dragged your nails down his chest, over the fabric of that grey tee of his, the one that clung to his biceps and broad shoulders. “Then we better make it quick.”

You husked against his lips and then caught his plush bottom lip between your teeth, tugging just enough to make him groan deep in his chest, and that was all it took. Dean all but growled before crashing his lips against yours once more, the kiss hot and filthy. 

His large hand framed your jaw, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting past your lips, swallowing your breath like he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands were everywhere—skimming down your sides, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass before finally cupping your breasts through the soaked fabric of your top. A sharp gasp left you when he pulled away, yanking the dampened fabric over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him. 

Without hesitation, he tugged the cups of your lace-bra down, freeing your breasts to the warm summer air before his mouth was on you, hot and hungry, sucking, nipping, lavishing you in wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, arching into him, your fingers fisting into his hair as the ache between your legs turned unbearable.

Dean groaned against your skin before pulling back just enough to flick open the button of your shorts, yanking them and your panties down in one swift motion. You barely had time to shiver before his hands were between your thighs, his fingers trailing over your slick heat, teasing, pressing just enough to have you trembling.

“Shit, baby,” he rasped, dragging his fingers through your wetness, spreading it before pressing the pads of two fingers against your aching clit. “Already so fuckin’ soaked for me.”

Your head fell back, a breathy moan slipping past your lips as he started working you open, circling your bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate strokes. He knew exactly how to touch you—his practiced hand moving with confidence, like he was playing a damn fiddle, pulling every little sound from you with ease.

Your thighs twitched, hips rolling into his hand, but he wasn’t about to let you slip away from him. His free arm slid around your back, pulling you against him, keeping you close, keeping you steady. You weren’t going anywhere—not until he was done with you.

“Dean,” you gasped, clinging to his bicep, your other hand gripping his shirt as he slid one thick finger inside you, curling it just right. Your walls clenched around him, the stretch not nearly enough, but he took his time, teasing you, dragging his finger in and out before adding a second.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice low and sinful as he thrust his fingers deep, curling them against that spot that had you gasping. “Goddamn, sweetheart… you’re squeezing me so tight.”

His thumb found your clit again, circling, pressing, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His arm around your back tightened, anchoring you, his body pressed firm against yours as he worked you apart with ruthless precision.

The tension coiled in your stomach, tightening with every stroke, every flick, until you were right there, teetering on the edge.

Dean leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice rough and dripping with possession. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

A broken cry tore from your throat as your orgasm hit, your body arching into him, back bowing as pleasure wracked your frame. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, thighs trembling, hands fisting his shirt as he worked you through it. His deep groan vibrated against your skin, his grip on you firm, grounding you as you came undone beneath him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praised, fingers slowing but never stopping, drawing out every last pulse. His free hand smoothed up your back, keeping you close, pressing you against his heat as you shuddered.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your throat before dragging his slick fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

Still panting, you reached for his belt, fingers fumbling in your urgency, desperate to feel him inside you. Dean wasted no time helping, shoving the leather free and popping the button of his jeans, his cock already hard and aching as he shoved them down just enough to free himself.

Your breath hitched as you wrapped your fingers around him, the heat of him searing against your palm. He was thick, heavy, veins pulsing beneath your touch as you stroked him from base to tip. A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat, his hips jerking into your grip as his head tipped back, lips parted on a ragged breath.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he rasped, his hands gripping your thighs, like he was grounding himself in you.

You let your thumb sweep over the weeping tip, smearing his precum, feeling the way he twitched under your touch. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing, and fuck, you swore you could watch him like this forever—his body taut with need, barely holding himself together.

But Dean had other plans.

With a rough growl, he pried your hand away and pressed you back onto the hood of the Impala, the metal warm against your spine, sending a shiver through you. His hands spread your thighs wide, his gaze roaming over your flushed, wrecked body like he was committing you to memory.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, palming himself as he stroked his cock, his eyes dark and hungry. “You look so goddamn good like this. My girl. My Baby.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, your walls fluttering around nothing as you whined for him, arching, desperate. That was all it took.

Dean lined himself up and thrust in with one smooth, devastating stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The both of you moaned—loud, unrestrained—as he stretched you open, filling you completely. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he stilled, savouring the heat of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours, his breath hot, ragged. “So goddamn tight, baby.”

A whimper slipped from your lips, your hands clawing for grip on the slick metal as you tried to rock your hips, but his grip on your thighs kept you pinned beneath him. The stretch of him was almost too much, the delicious burn leaving you trembling, but it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“Dean, baby" you gasped, voice breathless, needy. "Please. Move. Fuck me."

Your plea shattered whatever restraint he had left.

Then he moved.

There was no holding back, no slow build—just pure, unrelenting need as he started fucking into you, hard and fast. The Impala rocked beneath you, the metal creaking under the force of his thrusts, and every time you jolted higher, he yanked you back down onto him, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

The sound of skin slapping, the wet, filthy noises of him pounding into you filled the air, mingling with your desperate cries and his gritted curses. Every thrust sent you spiralling higher, every drag of his cock against that perfect spot making your vision blur.

Dean was unraveling just as fast, his grip tightening, his groans turning into something deeper, almost desperate. His lips found yours in a searing, messy kiss, his teeth catching your bottom lip before he broke away, panting against your mouth.

“Gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” he growled, his hand slipping between you to rub tight circles over your clit, driving you closer to the edge. “C’mon, baby. Let me feel you.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, pleasure ripping through you, your walls clenching around him as you came with a cry. The way you squeezed him had him cursing, his rhythm faltering, his breath shuddering.

“Shit—fuck, baby—” His hips stuttered, and then he was right there with you, groaning deep as he buried himself to the hilt, his release spilling inside you, hot and thick.

He slumped against you, both of you breathless, shaking, bodies slick with sweat. His hand smoothed up your side, soothing, grounding, before he pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

“Damn,” he chuckled, voice wrecked. “Might be the best ride I’ve ever had in this car.”

You rolled your eyes, but the breathless laughter still bubbled out of you. "You’re such a dork." You smacked his shoulder lightly, a mix of jest and silent demand for him to help you up. He did, pulling you against his chest, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, his green eyes were softer now, something unspoken lingering between you both. His fingers traced along your jaw, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice quieter now, more reverent. "For this… for everything."

Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his gaze, and you cupped his cheek, stroking your thumb over the rough stubble. "Anything for you."

Dean exhaled, something almost like relief washing over his expression before he kissed you once more—slower this time, less desperate, more savouring. His hands lingered on your hips, his thumb brushing soft circles against your skin, grounding you in the moment.

But before you could get lost in him again, you reluctantly slipped away, heading inside to clean up and change. The last thing you needed was to look like you’d just been thoroughly fucked on the hood of Dean’s beloved car—especially with Bobby and Sam due back any minute.

By the time you descended the steps—now looking far more presentable—you caught sight of Dean through the hall window. A smirk tugged at your lips as you watched him, his focus entirely on the Impala, washing away lingering suds and ensuring not a single trace of your time together remained. Of course, he had to finish her off too. Pun intended.

You bit your lip, amused at the sight, but before you could enjoy it any longer, the familiar rumble of Bobby’s truck rolling up the dirt driveway snapped you from your thoughts.

Bobby stepped out first, casting a suspicious glance toward Dean, while Sam followed, his gaze narrowing as he watched his brother casually running a drying cloth over the hood.

“Didn’t you just clean her yesterday?” Sam asked, brows furrowing.

Dean hesitated for only a fraction of a second before smirking, his comeback effortless, at least so he thought. “Yeah, well… she got a little dirty.”

AN: This was a fun little one to write 😆. Ofc Dean's fantasy would be something like this, simple but effective. I hope you guys liked this one ❤️, feedback is always appreciated 😊

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

[skulkingfoxes]

A post-mortem of "Good Morning, Rose"

A few weeks ago, I posted my addition to the comic anthology GLIMM*R, a short comic called "Good Morning, Rose".

The reaction to it has been so uplifting and exciting. It really seemed to struck a cord with people, which, really, the best thing for me to hear as a creator. I absolutely love writing and making short comics, you can do much with so little, explore such interesting stories. The feedback I've gotten has been very heartwarming! It makes me want to explore short stories even more!

But, first, I want to talk about some of my feelings and about the process of making "Good Morning, Rose". This got a bit long, so you'll have to indulge me a bit. You should also read the comic first before reading this. Don't worry, it's only 8 pages.

Now the preamble is out of the way, lets go back to the beginning.

The idea of "Good Morning, Rose" was a nugget in my brain for a long time! Originally it was actually from the Dreamwalker's point of view, where she was a faceless entity who had a long term relationship with Rose and was trying to figure out how to explain that their relationships only were in Rose's dreams. It was a story about seeing, accepting, and loving each other truly and fully, and the trials and tribulations of getting there. Also a cute girl with an ancient eldrich being is always fun to explore.

A lot of it was too convoluted, emotionally and storywise. It also required to get into what the Dreamwalker actually was, which I ended up really not liking. So, ultimately, the idea didn't work, and I put it down. I ended up going to do my short comic Twigs instead.

When I was invited into the wlw anthology GLIMM*R and was told that the theme was "dreams", I decided to take another stab at the concept. This time, I inverted the pov, it's now Rose's story. And instead of a long term relationship, it was about the powerful first feeling of a perfect (maybe even too perfect?) first date.

One of the hardest thing to write in romance is getting readers to care about the relationship in the first place. To have the readers believe in the character's feeling, to be invested in their romance. This is even harder to do when you only have 8 pages to do it. Focusing it around a first date helped a lot in that case. There I'm not trying to sell that these two character will love each other forever and forever, just the fluttering first butterflies of realizing you're developing feeling for someone. It's why I leave it so open-ended about whether the two of them meet again at the end of the comic, or even if it was real in the first place. It's just not the point of the story.

That's something important about writing short stories, I find. You really have to hone in on an idea, on a thought. Take a simple idea and try to find all of the interesting layers. It's too easy to try to stuff a short story with too many ideas that ultimately go unfulfilled. In fact, the first draft of the comic, at the time called "Dream Date", there was a big problem with this and the pacing.

Here, take a look at the first stab at the roughs:

(BTW, there is something so fun about roughs for me lol. The art is so kinetic and loose, all about just getting the story across)/

As you can see, a lot of the ideas and imagery made to the final version of the comic. But both the initial readers and I agreed that the beginning and end were good, but the middle was messy and slowed things down. You can also see that I got stuck in the same problem I did when I first conceived of the story, it's bogged down trying to understand the Dreamwalker in a way that actually hurts the story. You simply dont have any room for bad pacing a short comic like this. I need to focus more on the character's and their emotions and exploring their actual relationship rather than blandly trying to explain the situation. A friend also suggested that I should hone in on the fluid dream-like aspects of the first couple of pages, especially since it's so fun to explore in the medium of comics. So I got to work gutting it out and trying again with the new, much stronger imo, direction.

Also there were some issues with the page format that needed changes for printing, thus the final spread had to be split up. Which is a shame, but oh well, it still works. I also honed in a lot more on Rose and her insecurities. I ended up putting a lot of myself into Rose. I'm glad readers seems to able to relate to her.

After figuring out the the story and the pacing, I went and, well, made the comic. Once you've done as many comic pages I have at this point, once you figure out a process, the actual drawing is fairly straightforward. Eventually, after thinking, and drawing, and toiling, and revising, and thinking hard about my life choices, I come out of the other end of the tunnel with a comic. One that I ended up really liking. One that other people ended up liking, which is always crazy to me.

I got a lot of interesting reactions to the comic. One demographic thinking it was sweet, wanting more of it (always a flattering thought), and enjoying the romance. Other remarking on the bittersweetness of it all, finding your soulmate in a dream, maybe never to see them again if they were even real in the first place. There were a lot of people remarking how they had a similar dream, one where they met someone they seemed totally and completely convinced that they were real and told the dreamer so, until the dreamer woke up. There was one person who asked if I had met the dreamwalker myself. Alas, my dreams are not this romantic and straightforward.

But all of us can hold hands, nod at each other, united by one universally true statement: big eldritch lady hot.

There's a lot of little bits I can talk about, like how Rose's dress is actively modeled after selkie dresses because I think they're cute, or some other trials and tribulations. But I think I've finished all I have had to say. I hope you enjoyed this and will stick around for my future projects! I definitely want to explore more short stories in the next year, especially as I am illustrating big graphic novels for my day job and don't have the time or energy for huge projects.

Till then, thank you so much! Happy holidays and have a good new year!

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * QUIL ATEARA HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 being in a relationship with quil

the golden retriever boyfriend energy is so real. quil is always excited to see you. he could’ve seen you an hour ago and still be like:

“there’s my girl!”

he lifts you off the ground in a hug like you weigh nothing and spins you just to hear you laugh.

he insists on calling you every cute nickname in existence, but most often it’s:

“babe. baby. angel. sweetheart. lovebug. sunshine. hey, you—adorable creature, come here.”

you once tried to count how many different ones he used in a day. you lost track around 27.

he’s super touchy. like, it’s almost comical. his arm is around you at all times. if you’re sitting, you’re on his lap. if you’re standing, his hand is in your back pocket. he has absolutely no sense of personal space with you.

“i just like knowing you’re real,” he shrugs, nuzzling into your neck.

“i’m not gonna disappear, quil.”

“yeah, but you might float away if i’m not holding on tight enough.”

third wheeling with embry and jacob used to be your life. now they third wheel you two. embry’s still salty about it.

“i swear to god, if i see you two cuddling during movie night again, i’m launching popcorn at both of you.”

“that’s fair,” you admit. quil just winks. “totally worth it.”

he gets jealous in the funny way, not toxic—just absolutely dramatic. like if someone even breathes in your direction:

“you saw that, right? he looked at you like you were the last slice of pizza on earth. i will fight him.”

“quil, he asked for the time.”

“exactly. that’s how it starts.”

he loves showing you off to the pack. and he’s got no chill about it.

“isn’t she the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen? like, how is she even real?”

you’re literally in pajamas. eating cereal.

“quil—”

“no. don’t downplay it. you’re art, babe.”

he goes out of his way to cheer you up when you’re sad. one time you had a bad day and he showed up with your favorite snacks, a giant hoodie of his, and said:

“okay, bad mood begone. i brought cuddles, sugar, and a movie where everything explodes.”

he loves cuddling so much it’s actually a problem. you try to get up in the morning and he clings like a koala.

“five more minutes. or fifty. who needs sunlight anyway?”

the wolf thing doesn’t scare you. he was worried it might—but you just looked at him and said:

“so you’re like…hot and supernaturally fast now?”

“well, i’ve always been hot, thanks.”

you just rolled your eyes and kissed him.

he’s obsessed with your laugh. like, actually addicted to it. he’ll do the dumbest stuff just to hear it—wearing socks on his hands, pretending to be a dinosaur, or dramatically reading cereal box labels in shakespearean tones.

“if thou desirest a breakfast with whole grain goodness… behold the blessed cheerio!”

“quil, it’s 7 a.m.”

“and yet i’d rise at dawn each day for the sound of your laughter.”

quil is surprisingly soft-spoken during quiet moments. when it’s just you two, laying under the stars or wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, his voice gets all low and gentle.

“you know i’d do anything for you, right?”

“i know. i’d do anything for you too.”

“good. then keep letting me hold you like this forever.”

he’s constantly offering you his hoodie. like even if you’re already wearing one.

“here, take this one too. layer up. you look so cute when you’re drowning in fabric.”

sometimes he stares at you like he just remembered he loves you all over again. he doesn’t even try to hide it. you’ll be brushing your teeth or tying your shoe and catch him with the softest expression.

“what?”

“nothing. just… how’d i get this lucky?”

you’ve fallen asleep on his chest more times than you can count. he rubs your back, plays with your hair, and always whispers something soft before you drift off.

“sleep, baby. i’ve got you. i’ll always have you.”

when you cry, quil completely breaks inside. he’s not good at holding back his emotions when you’re hurting. his whole face crumples, and he gets down to your level instantly.

“tell me what to do. please. i hate seeing you like this—just tell me how to make it better.”

you’ve patched him up after patrols. he insists it’s no big deal—“just a scratch”—but you can always tell when he’s hiding how bad it hurts.

“you don’t have to baby me.”

“i’m not babying you, i’m loving you. now hold still, tough guy.”

quil gets insanely flustered when you wear something he thinks is cute. it could be a new dress or one of his shirts—either way, he goes red and stumbles over his words.

“you—you can’t just walk around looking like that and expect me to stay calm, okay?”

“but it’s literally your hoodie, quil.”

“exactly. my hoodie. and you make it look illegal.”

when he’s really in love-mode, he blurts things without thinking. like…

“you know i wanna marry you, right?”

cue silence.

“wait. that was—okay, that came out way faster than i meant it to.”

“but do you?”

“…every damn day.”

his imprint on you makes everything deeper. you feel it in the way he watches over you, listens to every word like it matters, defends you with his entire body, and looks at you like you’re the sun itself.

you still remember the day he told you about the imprint and what it meant for you. it was when you first started to date, taking things slow, and then the imprint changed everything.

he tried to hide it but one day the whole truth came out—rushed, broken, raw.

“i can’t do this anymore.”

“quil— what?”

“you’re my imprint. that means… you’re it for me. forever. but i didn’t want to trap you with that, or scare you. i just—god, I’ve been in love with you for so long, and the second it happened, it got worse. it’s not obsession, i swear. it’s just you. it’s always been you.”

you didn’t say anything at first. just looked at him with wide, unreadable eyes.

quil’s heart sank like a stone.

“…you’re gonna run now, huh?”

“no,” you whispered. “i’m going to kiss you.”

and when your lips met his? it was everything. the imprint clicked into place from your side now—your body just knew.

he trembled when he held you, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

“you don’t have to love me yet,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “just let me love you. let me show you.”

you didn’t even hesitate.

“then show me, quil.”

and he did show you. everyday since then.

quil’s love is loud, unapologetic, and forever. you never have to question it.

[ahanarhorse]

Look at all the Wildlings!

I wanted to draw other links meet aus, and here we are, 9 different botw/totk Links all together! I picked 9 different aus and tried to draw each of the links in the creator's style, and I think I succeeded, they're all pretty close actually! (Little note: no one cares but I'm very proud because I didn't trace any drawings at all and I didn't eyedrop the colors from the reference a single time)

Going from left to right and top to bottom

@linkeduniverse Wild!

I love Wild so much, the chaotic little gremlin. I also love your art style! It's very light and pretty. I know it's changed a lot, but all of them are nice. Wild needs a hug, everyone needs a hug, I'm going to break into the comic just to give them a hug, he deserves it. I love him so much, he inspires me, I want to be just like Wild, a chaotic little arson gremlin.

@bonus-links Slate

He seems very serious, I think he needs a hug. I love his hair, and his shirt(the dragons are really cool!). I love his little fairy friend too, I had to include her. I love your art style so much, I don't even know what to say about it, I just love how you do everything. The way you draw faces though are especially nice, I don't know, you have such a wonderful art style I want to steal it(I won't though)

@linked-maze Wild

Adorable little boy, he's very cute. Very smol. Very squishy. I love him so much. He needs a hug too, I'm gonna give him a big hug. Your art style is very nice, and I love Wild's design! His hoodie is cute, I need one like that too.

@minas-linkverse Hoods

Hoods is adorable, like, I'm internally screaming, he's so cute, and so is your art style! I just want to squish him. Poor little guy needs a hug, can I give him a hug? I'm giving him a hug. Also I love the way you shade hair, it's simple but it looks really good.

@linkbetweenlinksau Wild

My crazy boy, my gremlin, I love him so much your honor. That's my arson hazard right there, he's not yours anymore I'm stealing him forever I love him so much. I also just love your style, like, it's very squishy, I'ma squish the boy(/vpos). Your art style is so beautiful, every time I see you draw anything I'm inspired, I want to draw just like you one day.

@the-auras-of-light Tears

Gurl, how many layers do you have on an average drawing??? Your characters are so detailed, also the lineart coloring? You must have infinite patience or something, I don't know how you do it. Also I love the way you draw hair, it's very fun, I want to draw hair like that more often. And the lighting, I love how you draw lighting, mind telling me how you do it? (I'm also stealing Tears' hat, it looks fun)

@houseofheroesau Wild

Arson boy, little gremlin, partner in crime, the ultimate hazard to society, I love him so much. He could light my house on fire and I wouldn't care, I love him. He looks like he could get away with just about anything, especially the way you draw him, he's very cute.

@recalled11 Wild

I just need to know, what brush do you use for the hair? It's so pretty, I love the way you shade everything(especially the hair). It's so detailed, how long does it take you to draw your characters? I just love the way you do it, I need to take notes.

and my own au, @the-chain-of-fate Wild, my arson boi

If any of y'all(au creators) want a closeup of your boy to save ask me and I'll take a better picture, the quality of this one got eaten just a little bit.

Also, I had so much fun drawing all these characters, I want to do it again! If anybody would like, give me a character and an au to draw(yes, request your own au too!) I would love to do this again sometime!

[ebonyslasher]

Them Thangs Thanging, Unfortunately

Basically, reader is a woman who has extremely large breast. Aka ME, this shit isn't for the weak. Just wanted to write about a few struggles we have. This doesn't even cover half of it.

Big Breast!Reader x Michael Myers, Daniel Lamb, Chromeskull, and Ghostface (Danny Johnson)

-----

Growing up was a struggle. 

That statement is true for many, especially during early teenhood. Middle schoolers were the most ruthless and awkward looking individuals to exist. However, there was an extra layer of struggle for the girls who had very progressive physical development(s). Specifically, those who developed their breasts early.

That was you. And unfortunately, your breast kept growing and growing. Even through early adulthood, with your weight fluctuating, your breast kept growing. They were always big, mind you. But now, as an adult, they were humongous. And what other people called a blessing, you just called a problem. Many problems at that included: 

Price

Bra’s, already, were expensive. For one piece of specialized cloth was $30 to $40. Add onto the fact that you had big breast? Oh, now the price wanted to double. Good luck if you were so big that you had to order custom. Prepare for your soul and wallet to be hurt. Custom bras can set someone back at least $100 easy!

With Michael, it was an odd situation. He would hear you complain about the price, but never understood why. He could just steal them for you, either from the store or from a victim. You, of course, didn’t want a bra from some random, especially with blood on it. EW. His plan could work if he would remembered your size...and if they even had it in store. 

Well, price wasn’t an issue with Chromeskull! He already treated you like a queen. If you wanted, he would have someone find bras for you. That way, you don’t even need the stress of looking. You find the bras lined up on a table every few months for you to pick from. What a life!

Daniel listened to your problems and saw firsthand how much they could get up to. Eyebrows shot up at the $79 bra that sat on your screen. After his missions, he would steal money or cards off corpses to give to you. You’d find a pile laying on your desk when he couldn’t stay, with a note saying ‘For your bra troubles!’ He was so sweet.

Ghostface didn’t care. He didn’t have to pay for the bras, so not his problem! He barely listens, pretending to only see any bras you might get next. Pervert. He wouldn't mind you getting a smaller bra, trying to imagine you as those anime girls wearing the smallest bikinis. 

“So you want me to look like I'm from One Piece??! Natural breasts in real life don’t work like that dummy!”

Size availability

Speaking of One Piece, it felt like you had to travel through the seven seas just to find bras in your size. Trying to find cute ones? You’re asking for the impossible. Most stores didn’t have your size. Forget about places like Victoria's Secret and especially Aerie. Lane Bryant may have your size, unless your band size is small. So, that means you have to order your bras online. Sucks, since you couldn’t try them on before buying. 

Michael stood in the store, comically looming behind you, surrounded by multicolored bras. He noticed that your posture fell as you spoke with a store worker. “Unfortunately, we don’t carry those sizes in store. We have them online and you could get it shipped here.” No thanks. It’d just be better to get something shipped to your house. You sighed in disappointment. Michael squints his eyes at the worker. Maybe he could come back and look to see what they really have in the back…

Availability was no longer a problem thanks to Jesse. Your masked sweetheart hired a personal designer that would make bras tailored to you. And you can tell them just how cute you’d like the bra to be.

A comforting hand lands on your shoulder as you relay the issue of finding your cup and band size in store. Daniel listens on as you rant, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course, I’d be the one with a small band size and huge ass breast!”  While you talk, he peruses the internet for different online stores that may have your size. You two curate a list of some, avidly reading any reviews that pop up.

“Oh well, hey, maybe this gives you the excuse to not wear bras anymore. Heh, I definitely won’t mind the view,” Danny joked after you told him the news. You roll your eyes and tell him to shut up. He really doesn’t care about your dilemma, pushing you to go braless, so he could see those juicy tatas bouncing. Although, if you get on him enough and promise him something nice, maybe he could magically get you some bras.

Clothing restrictions

There were certain articles of clothing that you couldn’t wear. Sad, since there were some cute looks that you just couldn’t do logistically. Bralettes and button down shirts were the devil. You saw the bralettes trending and said, “Nope. No way I could do that”. Button down shirts were deceptive. It would work up until the point the button around your breast would pop open. Understandable, since the small button couldn’t handle the pressure of holding back such big bouncing melons. You tried again one day, hoping that the designs became better throughout the years. As you walked around, the buttons popped open. The image of soft brown breast were revealed to the world in…

Michael’s steel blues, which immediately pinpoint the wardrobe malfunction. His head slowly tilts. Michael stoically ogles, secretly licking his lips as he enjoys the view. He notices your embarrassment and frustration. He feels a little bad, but that was overshadowed by the deliciousness of your reaction. He loves seeing you get worked up. He wouldn’t mind watching you bouncing around to throw a tantrum.

Jesse’s eyeless mask gleams. He raises his eyebrows at the incident. You try to button your shirt back up. The button only stays a moment before it gives up, bouncing off the shirt for the sweet release of death. The button clinks against the marble floor. You look down in disbelief as Jesse’s shoulders shake in glee. This was the funniest thing he’s seen all week!

Daniel’s zenith blue eyes pop wide open, mimicking the poor button that flew off. His face was a light shade of pink as he observed the scene. “Oh Shit…,” he whispers. Trying not to stare at your obvious malfunction, he peers up at your face that looks beautifully frustrated at the button on the ground. His eyes were full of empathy as walks over. “How about we try another shirt, huh?,” Daniel asks as he chuckles lightly.

“Hallelujah!” Ghostface shouts as he zeros in on this fantastic view. His perverted chocolate eyes were glued to your happy accident. You scoff and cover the malfunction with your hands. The view of that amazing bosom was now obscured, which angered Ghostface. He marches over right as he says, “Hey! Don’t cover those. Ghosty wants to see!”

Back pain

These breasts weighed heavy as gravity worked against your favor. Lugging around these gigantic bust meant the pull and strain against your back muscles. Those back muscles were only so strong, which would get weaker as you got older. The random aches in the upper, middle, and lower part of your back plagued your existence. You tried your best to keep good posture, but it was tiring.

Michael will rub your back if you ask. Well, only if he gets something in exchange. Dessert, you bent over, a good meal, or a new knife. You choose and it better be the right choice depending on his mood. Be warned that Michael is heavy handed as hell. His digs feel like he’s punching through your body. It might be a while before his massages become beneficial.

Jesse will hire a professional masseuse when he's on a spree. However, he would never turn down the opportunity to knead your supple muscles. You don’t mind if he goes a little lower, right Princess? He’ll also treat you with a doctor to get some treatment options going. 

Skilled and dangerous hands rub your back, the heavenly sensation of warm oil glides with every movement. Daniel, the sweet man that he is, gladly volunteers to bring you temporary relief. If he’s unable to caress your lovely form, he leaves you some pain medicine and healing meds that he comes across. The healing meds were heavenly. He, later, suggests having a reduction so you won’t have to suffer anymore.

Danny will massage you only because he wants his hands on that perfect body. And lowkey wants you to stop complaining all the time. God, it was annoying. He frequently offers to hold your breast up as you walk around. “I’ll even hold them up out in public. Just think, you’ll have your own boobie holder everywhere you go.” That shit eating grin on his handsome face didn’t faze you. Your face scrunches at his perverted comment. You take him up on the offer…only at home. You wouldn’t admit that it was a big help for your posture. You didn’t need to, Danny could tell how much it was helping by your relieved expression.

[herstuf]

Agatha Theories I’ve had so far

Agatha has no control over her powers. Or at least didn’t. When her mother said “you were born evil” I’m wondering if when she was a baby if her mother tried to use magic on her and as a baby Agatha started draining her magic… could be where the ideas behind her mothers hatred but also the “I can be good” came from. “I can be good” is such a child of an abusive home thing to say…

Unsure if I still like this one but- Billy is in Nicholas Scratch’s body. In the comics the twins are reincarnated beings… interesting if Billy is in Nicholas’s body

Rio is Mistress Death and when Agatha went down the road before she was in search of a way to stop her own magic from draining others in order to protect her son… only for the road to take Nicholas in exchange for the dark hold and Rio, as Mistress Death, HAD to help him cross over, even when Agatha begged her not to

Rio hates ghosts because they’re the spirits of people who wouldn’t or couldn’t pass on, even with her help. She must be actively bothered by that as it’s her Job to help souls pass on, and ghosts probably refuse to

Agatha hasn’t actually killed as many people as the rumours say. It’s just easy to blame her for, and to act like when other witches have sought her out and attacked her that it was her fault. Her comment about “and people wonder why I don’t have female friends” has LAYERS to it.

Similarly- Agatha told Lilia that she can’t take power unless someone attacks her first… what an odd thing to tell someone if you actually want to do that. Like why give yourself away like that SO easily… unless she really doesn’t want to TAKE people’s magic who aren’t hurting her. Despite how she later tried to trick the coven into blasting her… she hasn’t actually done it since. And she was horrified at first when Alice starting blasting her. Why warn them if not as a caution not to attack her, if she actually wanted to take from them?

Episode 5 the were all possessed- I saw someone else talk about this in much more depth than I can do justice and found it interesting. Also interesting that the exit from that trial was the first exit “up” instead of “down,” as in down down the witches road…

Lilia was either royal or elevated (very wealthy/lady/lord style) in medieval or before times. Based on the snippets we’ve gotten from her I picture her as a bit of a Cassandra character. She was likely betrayed either by family or coven, or perhaps by her own visions, at some point. She started to distrust or be scared of her magic and that’s why it has faded.

Also love the theory that she predicts death.. with the “Alice don’t” and then later saying it when Alice blasts Agatha. Theories that she predicted the black plague, and that all the slips she has are moments where she gets closer to predicting deaths… so interesting to think about

My favourite- Alice isn’t really dead. Because I don’t want her to be. :)

[mibkid]

Can i just say as both an artist and cosplayer i am so greatful and amazed over Jojo's amazing linked universe comic and just how much time and effort she puts into it.

i mean i am floored over 10 pages a month fully colored with detailed backgrounds and good story, believe me it's crazy amount of work. ...and speech bubbles. eurgh typography...(u can guess which part of comic making i enjoy the least)

Not only that but i am eternally greatfull for just how many angles we get to see the characters in the comic, the varied poses and expressions are not only amazing to look at and great way to show personalities, but also just such great reference points when either drawing the characters or trying to figure out how the hell a costume is built up.

AND jojo has drawn them in various stages of their clothes on during the comic, so you KNOW HOW THE LAYERING WORKS.

How is Time's armor built up? Boom right there in multiple angles and sometimes off.

Ah how does Hyrule's layering work? BOOM right there with an interesting maybe leather based under-armor??

How large is Twilight's chainmail and how is it built up? BAM right there.

Jojo literally drew a whole page of how Sky's clothes are built up, layer by layer.

It's truly a blessing!

AND IT IS CRAZY that jojo added so much beautiful embroidery to the characters' clothes.

(my brain is like "oh but me like to know every detail of the embroidery of every character", and i end up looking at the pictures and say "sush brain don't be a spoilsport they're already detailed just use your imagination of what jojo has drawn and what could fit the specifics", because that is fun too! like Sky's embroidery on his over-undershirt could very much be berries of some sort on twig together with some sort of classic skyloftian forms, like lingon berries though it isn't,( i know that lingon berries don't exist in hyrule...) but it would be a fun idea!)

As you can see by my... detailed oriented nature i am very interested in their designs. But again the whole comic is a true wonder, i mean, so many angles not just the characters but the surroundings. So many different zoom-outs and zoom-ins utilized, the comic knows when to change from one character to another to more than one. So it's great on a technical standpoint too. And it's SO cool to see how Jojo's art has changed through time. (that is not a pun)

Anyway, i felt like i had a lot to say, and this was me saying it. I guess it's a Appreciation post for jojo, for showing other artists and creatives so much different and amazing artwork. (and giving us amazing references)

But also it's that i want other people to see(though i think they do already) how much time and effort and love has been put into it, not that it matters much coming from me as a random person who happens to enjoy her work.

But i think it's fun to show appreciation for artists and writers anyway.

[jccatstudios]

Omg! This is so awesome. I've been finding random panels of it on pinterest, but I haven't had the chance yet to read it all in order until now! You've really brought everything to life just how I imagined it and your art is so good! Just a question or two... How long does it take you to get these done? And what is your process for the comic? ❤❤❤❤

Thank you so much!!! Not all artists do, but I always love seeing my art on Pinterest. Reading the comments over there is a lot of fun! I also like saving it to my folders whenever I find it hahaha

It takes around 1.5 to 2 days per page (not including sketches, research, etc, just the final draft), depending on the complexity. Some pages (like ch 2 pg 35) took a lot less time just because it's a full black background and not many figures. Basically, the more backgrounds, panels, and figures there are, the longer a page takes.

I work traditionally for most of my process. I start off annotating the chapter I'm working on in a secondhand copy. Then I thumbnail out all the pages, which takes a lot longer than you'd think! It's where I do a lot of my thinking. I start the final drafts mostly in order. It goes pencils then inks. Once I'm done with inks, I scan the pages to finish them. I correct any mistakes or blemishes before toning the page. The tones are made from layers of ink wash cut and pasted into the right spots. Lettering comes last, which I do through my art program, Clip Studio Paint.

Nina expression doodles for your kindness ♥️

[ckret2]

Loved the comic above the chapter. It was glorious and this is now my headcanon XD. The art is great too! What's the new programs you got? Had to ask before I dive into this chapter!

-🥸

new program is Affinity Designer, for vector art. My hands are shaky as hell (it's amazing how many weird-ass symptoms ADHD has that you don't hear about until you dig deep) and that makes it a pain in the ass to get my lineart looking as smooth as it does—i'm hoping using vector art for lining will speed up my workflow.

Right now while I'm still getting the hang of it I think it's slowing me down lmao. Got to learn how to deal with entirely new problems from the ones I used to have, like, "why does this damn program keep randomly switching between clicking on the layer I want and clicking on some totally different object group, when i choose a layer in procreate it stays on that damn layer until I tell it otherwise" and "why does drawing a new line sometimes apply the line style I wanted and sometimes apply a line style I used like twenty layers ago for no reason"

But once I've worked out the bugs I'm hopeful it'll speed things up.

Like, this! Look at this. I made a Bill and saved it as an asset. Have a generic Bill.

And now I never need to draw Bill again in my life.* (*this is hyperbole.) I can just slap that asset down, bend some things, rotate some things, and turn it into...

... whatever pose I want.

His body and hat are always the right shape and it's easy to deform them however I want and then instantly un-deform them with one button; his bricks & tie & eye are already applied; his limbs are always the exact same thickness, his feet are always the same shape, it takes one click to put his joints into perfectly smooth swoopy curves at the joints, and even the glow effect is always already applied

and man, I know stuff like an automatic glow is no big deal to people with fancy-pants high-end art software like Adobe Whatever, but I don't have Adobe Whatever, I have Procreate and you have to manually make your glow layers and if you redraw the image you've gotta redo the glow from scratch. Never again!!

You wanna know what I had to actually hand-draw to change the first image into the second image?

That's it.

My two issues are—one—because I'm so new at this, it takes a lot of time twitching around individual nodes and figuring out clever little ways to layer objects to get the right effect that a pro wouldn't have to spend on it, and—two—because vector art is SO precise and smooth, it tends to drain some of the personality and "character" out of the art. Like,

the angry Scalene on the left "looks better" just in terms of having clean consistent lines and pixel-perfect gradients and no sketchy corners—but the one on the right has a better angry face, it's more visually appealing and more intense. There's a lot more rage in those scrawly uneven fists than there is in the smooth flawless fist. I spent a lot of time fussing over her expression on the left and still couldn't get it to look as good as the one I did months earlier with Procreate, because in procreate you can just draw the lines but with vector art you manipulate the curves in strange and esoteric ways.

So I've gotta work to bridge that gap.

and then by god I'll be unstoppable.

[esmedelacroix]

03 - Nerd Alert

synopsis ! he’s an American football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night. She’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life. They lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room.

previous chapter | series masterlist

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol abuse,

fic radio ! idfc by blackbear

Sukuna lived multiple lives. In a weird way, he was so many different people depending on his environment. When acting in almost every scenario, you lose yourself.

Deep down. Under all the layers Sukuna had created to protect himself, He was a nerd at heart. He enjoyed comics of Superheros fighting bad guys. It was what inspired him to workout and go to the gym. His favorite DC comic heros made him feel strong. Like he had a chance against the weird men that preyed on his mother or the ones that would get violent with her. His mom didn't give a rats ass about him. Then again she was too deep into her high to realize the situation she was in. More importantly, the position she put her son in.

Ryomen secretly played Five Nights at Freddy's with his elementary school friend Nanami. He couldn't take the bullying he would receive in school if they knew he loved comics, playing weird video games, scary movies, and math. He already had enough problems whenever he looked into his bank account or went to his house.

When he started football, Sukuna found a sport he loved and could hide behind. Why be seen as weird when he could be liked by most people? Slowly, Sukuna became the kid who would agree when others said math was hard and then miraculously got an A. He became the kid who said he didn't study the night before when his dark eye bags indicated he did.

He even stopped hanging out with friends like Nanami because he wanted to hang out with his cooler friends. Though he never wanted to seem like he cared for anything, he truly cared about his public image. He never wanted people to notice he was broke so he worked two jobs to afford clothes and an occasional haircut.

His heart dropped to his ass when he looked up from the essay you were helping him out with to see Toji wide-eyed and confused looking through the glass wall. He immediately burst into the room without your permission. "Dude, what are you doing here?" he questioned.

Sukuna froze. Nothing was coming out of his mouth. "We're studying. What are you doing here?" you echoed.

"I'm just doing some work. Deans are on my ass about getting my shit done to keep my scholarship."

In all the years that Sukuna had been friends with Toji, they did everything together. They rushed for their frat and got hazed together(Sukun ended up keeping the pink hair cus he 'lowkey fuck with it'). He opened up about his home situation and brought him to his place. Toji was the one who recommended he put his mother in rehab while he was away at college. After four years Sukuna was still mending his broken relationship with his mother.

He couldn't admit that he was good at school and cared about his grades. "Why don't you believe me? Ryomen's in three advanced math courses. He did all those problems on the board."

Sukuna stared directly at his laptop disassociating. He didn't know what to do or say. Here you were, very inconsiderately exposing him. "What d'you gotta say for yourself, bro?"

Sukuna looked up at Toji shocked to see him grinning widely. he visibly looked confused and Toji laughed. "I'm just playing with you I know you're smart as hell," Toji chuckled pulling out the chair across from the two of you.

"What?" he finally said.

"Dude, I'm your best friend. I suspected you were a nerd all the way in high school. You think I don't notice things? You have mad comics under your bed. You use a Nintendo too. If that's not enough proof, I know you play Zelda on it when you think everyone's asleep. There was also that time I needed to use your laptop and I accidentally saw your report card," he explained.

You were impressed by how close he and Ryomen were. It completely surprised you that Ryomen was a full-blown nerd and not just some jock that was good at math and wore his prescription glasses when he forgot contacts.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, visibly annoyed.

"It was fun watching you try to act cool and hide it," Toji shrugged.

Sukuna let out a groan and sunk into his chair with his head in his hands. "I hate you," he mumbled

"Love you too, bud," Toji smiled.

The three of you spent that evening studying. You and Sukuna yelled at Toji as he did his homework like angry adults who don't know how to parent.

The weekend finally arrived and you were in the football stadium with your friends cheering on the team. You were wearing some school merch and jeans. Your hair was in a messy bun matching Geto's as you took your seat with your arms full of snacks and drinks.

You put a bit more effort into your style and hair today, just for you to throw it into an updo and get ketchup all over your light-wash jeans.

During half-time, the team huddled and dispersed. Sukuna squeezed his water from his bottle while pouring some on his face and shaking his head to get it out of his hair. Droplets of sweat accompanied.

He looked around in the crowd and once his eyes met yours they stopped and his expression changed. It was unreadable but it changed. He scanned you and you waved. He didn't wave back, he just stared. When his coach called him over, he rejoined the group. You shrugged it off and continued to talk to your friends.

The second half of the game was phenomenal. The whole team was connected. Sukuna was making amazing plays and the team was scoring so much that you had to sit down and take a breather for, how much cheering you were doing.

When the clock ran out, you and your friends shot out of your seats happy to see your team had won. All the guys high-fived. But Sukuna turned around looking directly at you making eye-contact facial expression still unreadable but soft around the edges.

You mouthed a 'congrats' to him you were sure he caught before his team huddled around him.

"Don't think I didn't see the two of you eye fucking. Right in front of my salad, tsk tsk," Geto smiled looking ahead.

"Oh shut up," you rolled your eyes elbowing him.

"you like him~" he sang.

"As if."

You played things off cool, but the heat rising to your face and your bouncing leg told Geto everything he needed to know. You were crushing. Hard.

. . .

-> next part

@minasuniverse @not-a-glad-gladiator @love-me-satoru @sukunawhores @emoedgylord @domainofmarie @sadrna @lazylunarlover @tamishadawn @boudoirbae @river-vixenn @bitchyfestivalbouquet @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @clp-84 @emochosoluvr @yoongithebean @linaaeatsfamilies @magalimachete @chubbydumplingbarnes @katsukiseyebrows @sukubusss @r33m-world @pelicanpizza @mykuronekome @linny-bloggs @your-mum3000 @jayathelostdragon

comment to be added to the taglist !

[jokin-around]

I made a Twitter thread about this, but I've been reading early issues of Batman lately and something I've noticed is how differently the contrast between Batman and "Bruce Wayne" is depicted

obviously, in many things today, "Bruce" (ESPECIALLY in fandom) is often depicted as a happy-go-lucky himbo in order to draw contrast with a grim and "tortured" batman

so how does this hold up when you look at older depictions? the answer: it doesn't. in fact it was almost the opposite.

way back in the very first issues of the official Batman title, Bruce Wayne, no matter WHAT he's doing, isn't the one who laughs and smiles, Batman is.

and these are comics that were published BEFORE the comics code authority caused a dramatic shift in tone

Bruce Wayne (or least the cardboard cutout refered to as Bruce Wayne) isn't nessecarily described as grim, but he isn't a very happy person either, he's still a rich airhead, but not so much a "himbo" or even a dedicated businessman, he's depicted as a BORED, uninterested, aristocrat:

this Bruce seems to spend of his time smoking a pipe at home or mingling with other upperclass individuals, that in-between we tend to see MUCH more often in modern comics doesn't seem to exist yet (in part because the batcave Is non-existent which I suspect has given him a bit more privacy as a character)

MEANWHILE Batman, who's investigates murders every other night almost seems to be having the time of his life:

the early comics seem to routinely depict the burgoise as cold, snobbish & bored, in contrast to batman who seems particularly expressive and joyful, for all we know Batman may partially exist as some millionaires weird passtime, but of course Bruce Wayne (the real guy, not the facade) is written as someone who genuinely seems to care due to his own past experiences:

but , with all of that layed out, one can conclude that when ppl say Batman is the "true persona" ect. originally, it wasn't (just) because of his coping or whatever it was because when he wasn't Batman he was forced to live life as a cold, "useless" millionaire:

"what if a rich a guy gave a fuck?" is still very much the base concept here, but what's surprising is how much BITE there is to it

the concept wasn't being proposed because it's like… a plausible thing to happen or attainable on a personal level, but because the rich reliably and consitently do not care

the rich ppl in this book, "Bruce Wayne" included, are not written to be envied as people. they're written to be insufferable. ppl with endless resources who are still somehow unsatisfied with life and choose to do nothing useful or direct with the amount wealth they've accumulated

but ofc it shouldn't be ALL THAT surprising, Batman debuted in Detective Comics in 1939…. ONE year after the great depression, Bob and Bill had more than a good reason to feel a bit bitter

but rolling back to the point of this analysis, whenever I say "let batman be happy" I mean "let Batman enjoy his job" despite the pain, despite the death, despite the murder, despite the hypocritical nature of it all and how problematic it may be because it's a life he also chooses, not just out of compulsion, but because it's hands on, direct & purposeful. it gives him something to do & it gives him a chance to punch a problem in the face (which may be good or bad depending on what that problem is, but still)

that kind of depiction is what set up the groundwork for nearly every deconstruction that's come since but it's so buried in time at this point that lines from characters claiming bruce "loves being batman" seem to ring completely hollow

tbh, I think the old way of depicting Batman can be ( and as been in some media) woven into the way he's depicted today, in the past Batman was an outlet for every emotion Bruce Wayne had to hide elsewhere, a symbol of empathy, fury and passion, for modern Batman, I imagine those three things still hold true, layered on top of an alter ego that allows a modern Bruce Wayne to be weird and damaged and dark.

so uh, ln conclusion, I think batman enjoying what he does to a certain extent is a crucial aspect of his character that's been lost and withered and forgotten about, let him a have a little fun, we can discuss the ramifications of all that when discussion seems necessary

[chaifootsteps]

Something about helluvas poor depiction of a sexually abusive relationship is so much more malicious and evil than hazbin. Because it cowers away from the fact it is one, and profits off of romanticising it. I think stoliz and angelval need to be held in the same conversation.

Every day rich powerful men sexually abuse and rape victims because money is leverage. These abusers are massively defended by the public especially if they are celebrity, “charismatic” funny, good at singing or acting. No matter what evil these abusers do, a parade of incels and pick me women with bleeding hearts (for the wrong person) will say

but she couldn’t have been sexually abused victimised by him! Look at the glamorous lifestyle! The jewellery, gifts, and fancy vacations! She’s just a gold digging thieving whore who is ashamed of her body count and wants attention.

Never mind the fact….many sex trafficking victims with high ranking famous abusers get gifts and fancy trips too. To keep the abuse secret. They have a lot on the line if they even dared say no or try to back out. All that money and “””glamour””” is blackmail material. Andrew Tate is an expert of this behaviour.

So what does vivziepop do with stolblitz?

She paints the victim of what is clearly sexual abuse as a hysteric imagining things, a bigot, a gold digger, someone with a “shameful”amount of sexual history, who is sexually excited at all times. All to discredit his validity as a victim. Never mind the fact sex workers (which btw, blitz isn’t) receive little sympathy and aren’t believed in their stories because “well sex workers are always down for anything right?” Or really…any rape victim guilty of the crime of not being a virgin beforehand are treated this way. When I See Him is repulsive because of this. One sensitive man questions if he’s a rapist, and the other is just horny, to make the answer to the audience this: no. He can’t be a rape victim. Look: He wants it.

And Viv uses the generosity argument. What about the outings they had, the supportive gifts “you can’t just ignore all that” Anyone with fundamentals understanding of abuse knows that them bringing up ‘the good times’ does not make the abuse invalid. You aren’t ignoring his kind moments by standing up for yourself regarding the bad. Not to mention, guilt at being unable to repay a rich “generous” person, is a core part financial coercion.

This relationship has layers upon layers of abuse tactics, slut shaming, rape apologia and victim blaming rhetoric. Viv has done a level of damage to SA victims, the sympathy for them and understanding in the public, that should be studied.

Couldn't have said it better. Comical moustache twirling monsters like Valentino are relatively rare in real life, but wealthy, abusive, guilt tripping guys like Stolas -- and stories of the people they prey on -- are everywhere. It's dangerous, disgusting, and wrong, and I genuinely fear the fandom's insistence that "it was sex work" and that sex workers seemingly can't say no is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to how much damage Viv has done.