#Antithesis (2) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soldier-poet-king · 6 months

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Came to the realization (I've connected it! You didn't connect shit!) about the link between Stoicism (in the philosophical sense) and common trauma responses - both center around the locus of control, and having control over the boundaries of said locus.

The Stoics right, the whole thing with "virtue is sufficient for happiness" is that you don't worry about things outside of your control, and so moral actions (and therefore eudaimonia) are exclusively things within your realm of influence (yes yes that's a gross oversimplification, but the bulk of my academic work was with the Platonists anyway). The Stoics knew where the locus of control was, and their virtue, and their happiness, stemmed (in theory) from knowing, acknowledging, thinking, and acting within the boundaries of this sphere.

A common trauma response also revolves around control, or the lack thereof. When you're accustomed to instability and a lack of a sense of safety control becomes both a means of salvation and damnation. The lack of control, the uncertainty of it, the sense of walking on eggshells, is what causes the trauma in the first place - you have no control over anything and it's terrifying and dangerous.

But control can also mean safety, if you can manage to get it. And you can get control in one of two ways. You can reduce your environment severely, withdrawing from the world out of fear and isolating yourself. Or you can falsely extend your control, tricking yourself into a sense of stability with (often unhealthy) lies and mindgames. Often, people do both. They may become withdrawn and anti-social and fearful of new experiences, even if it is something that there is no reason to fear, no indication that it might be threatening. They withdraw as much as possible from any relationship, experience, or event which has any degree of uncertainty, which they cannot control.

You may also become a people-pleaser, or obsessive about responsibility and causality - if you take the blame for every event on yourself it restores a sense of control, even if it is based in falsity. If you are responsible for managing someone's moods, or causing widespread tragedy, or what have you, then you yourself are the only one to blame when you are punished or when something terrible happens. It is a small comfort perhaps, but better than no comfort at all. It is easier to think that the fault is within yourself, that only if you were faster, smarter, better this terrible thing would not happen. It gives the illusion that it may be different in the future, if you are (impossibly) better. It is easier than living with the knowledge that you can't control it, you can't do anything to change it, and you just have to live like this. The solace of lies you tell yourself.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this observation maybe I'm in love with the sound of my own silly little thoughts. Someone smarter and more eloquent could make further connections about the locus of control and how the Stoics did not try to change it, while trauma responses simultaneously try to reduce and expand that locus as a defence mechanism. I'm sure there's some sort of philosophical or psychological implication here. I'm sure Real Academics and psychologists have already made this observation elsewhere, but it only occurred to me this afternoon.

#the duality of fran #am having a normal one folks. having a completely normal brain #went from talking abt astarion as someone who appreciates art but lacks the skill to produce it and undead as the antithesis of creation #(shout out to avas-poltergeist)#to a separate convo w someone else about my own scruples and inability to trust as trauma response #to bleed out (the song)#to then marcus aurelius and the stoics #CONNECTING THOSE DOTS.#fran how does ur mind go from these things to these other things?#honestly. idk man. i do not control the way the brain links concepts. i am just as mystified as u. i am simply. along for the ride #am i an insane navel gazer over analyzing everything? yes #is everything - psychology. art. media. music. real life. - all connected to the same themes and through lines? also yes #and im apparently incapable of not dragging these things together in tangled web #despite my inability to be eloquent or to say anything genuinely intelligent and observant #it's just rambles all the way down #honestly if youve followed me for more than like. 2 days. u know what to expect at this point

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altfire · 1 month

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im sooooo tired of feeling bad lol

#i have applied to so many jobs wish me luck gamers #watch your feet #did a recorded video interview for big chain retail like im Desperate for sthg else gkshdkgjshs lol #edit to say i did do some telehealth today to get back on actual long term meds so!!!!! thats nice #they'll be here in Three To Five Business Days #also realizing my job is making me less empathetic bc Real Empathy is such antithesis to the work. so thats lovely. cant wait 2 leave

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smile-files · 2 years

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okay so i've been thinking about ralsei lately and i have a new theory on what he is and what his role is and his relationship with kris! for all i know somebody has already said this but idk i just wanted to put this out there. thank you if you read through this whole spiel, as it's rather long...!

so what i'm proposing that ralsei is kind of like... a coping mechanism for kris? in that that he's designed to be there for kris and comfort them and make them happy - he's all of the soft, warm, cozy things that can make a bad day better. what's debatable is whether kris wants ralsei as that kind of coping mechanism... maybe they don't want to be told everything will be sunshine and rainbows...

ralsei is very much a people-pleaser; he's unoffensive and soft and trusting. he's always there for you if you want a cake, or a hug, or whatever; he seems to have endless motivation to help and to heal (why, he has healing powers!), especially in terms of kris. in fact, ralsei seems to have a special connection to kris, always wanting to be around them and make them happy. he clearly wants to be there for kris and to comfort them, even if that means ignoring some of the actual terrible stuff happening around them.

this whole notion is bolstered by ralsei's dialogue after the spamton fight in chapter 2, in which he says to kris that it was nothing, and that they shouldn't worry, and that they instead should think of something they like - something warm and soft etc. he's clearly insinuating that he is the thing kris should think of to get their mind off of the spamton fight - which confirms that a) his role is to be a coping mechanism for kris and that b) he wants kris to utilize him as that coping mechanism. he's kind of subtly forcing himself into that position by saying this, by saying that he's something kris likes.

now i should take a step back and talk about kris in relation to ralsei. kris is dealing with the existential horrors of being controlled by some higher being, the soul; to cope with that, they often rip out the soul in their chest and brandish a knife, which they thrust into the ground to make another doorway into the dark world. this is what kris has been using as their coping mechanism. it's violent and seemingly harmful, but it's also incredibly cathartic.

ralsei is the opposite kind of coping mechanism - he doesn't let you hate people or things, he doesn't let you think about the bad stuff that's happened to you (even if it's really horrible messed up bad stuff that needs addressing), and he certainly doesn't let you have anger, nevermind release it. he's the opposite of catharsis; he's pacification.

he wants kris to accept him; he's been waiting in a corner of their mind, ready with cakes and hugs and nostalgic photographs to soothe kris's aching heart. he wants kris to be happy; to him that means kris has to be his friend, kris has to hug him, love him, eat his cakes, be his chosen one and close the fountains caused by their desire for catharsis.

after all, the soul is what's glowing when kris is about to close a fountain; kris only closed it because of us, and we only made them close it because of ralsei. and ralsei told us that hating people and feeling angry is wrong. the fountains represent everything ralsei is against, and so he has us close them.

kris probably doesn't like ralsei as much as we think; i don't think kris hates him, but their reaction to the ralsei tea (as well as their inherent conflicts of interest mentioned above) shows that they certainly have some gripes with the guy.

i think between chapters 1 and 2 things start getting really messy, if they weren't messy already - in chapter 1, as the soul, we couldn't actually make kris kill anyone. in this sense we were narratively doing exactly what ralsei wanted - which in this case is good, as, y'know, that meant we were abstaining from literal murder. in chapter 2, however, we can most certainly kill people, via noelle - notably when ralsei is absent. as the soul we can do whatever we want; ralsei has just been trying to guide us into guiding kris into making the right decision (which ultimately involves closing the fountains - and of course, no matter our opinion in this coping mechanism discourse, we'd want to close the fountains, as then we can progress and play more of the game; we are the player, after all). how much we do follow or diverge from ralsei's advice and how much we should will certainly fluctuate as the chapters progress.

and no, ralsei certainly isn't malicious, and definitely has had a positive impact in many ways; for one thing, he wants the best for kris, and for another, he has actively prevented kris (read: the player) and susie from killing innocent darkners. he's right in thinking that murder is wrong and that you should try to see the best in people; he just overdoes the whole "sunshine and rainbows" spiel because he's naïve. kris and susie are literally the first people he's ever interacted with. ralsei is just naïve. knowing about the player - and by extension knowing any piece of information he really shouldn't - doesn't mean he knows everything or is knowingly witholding information from us/kris. and that certainly doesn't mean he's socially/emotionaly mature.

i don't know if this theory makes complete sense (there are likely certain details i've forgotten or misremembered), but at least to me it explains a lot - for one thing, why ralsei looks so much like asriel, something that has bugged us all since day one: it's because he thinks that's something kris would find comfort in.

okey dokey, so there you go! i hope you like my theory, and thank you for reading! have a lovely day :)

tl;dr - ralsei is a slightly unhealthy coping mechanism <3

#melonposting #long post #deltarune #deltarune chapter 2 #deltarune ralsei #ralsei #deltarune kris #kris #kin #y'know i had seen the theory at some point that ralsei's lightner object counterpart is the knife kris uses #which i had found fascinating narratively but also kind of paradoxical #as his appearance and personality are practically the antithesis of a knife #so i suppose in this theory yeah... ralsei really is the antithesis of that knife huh #anyway <3 coping mechanism ralsei my beloved #i hope you like him and not hate him please trust me i do not want any of you to look at this and say 'hm i guess ralsei sucks'#he is just naïve </3 rest in peace to every naïve person ever signed ralsei deltarune #deltarune theory #deltarune headcanon

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twofoursixohjuan · 2 years

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how come the nigel molesworth books have not been memed yet? they are ripe for the plucking

gaze in mirror at yore strange unatural beauty?

as ane fule kno?

tuogh you up uterly?

nearer and nearer crept the ghastly THING?

the prunes are revolting?

my bro molesworth 2?

helo clouds helo sky?

chiz chiz?

let me add my strength to yores?

dreming of BEER and LUV?

the mrs joyful prize for rafia work?

GURLS?

how about my personal favourite, in fakt the whole business is unspekably sordid?

come on.

#molesworth #nigel molesworth #he was born to shitpost #such a pity he was also decades ago and fictional #i'm doing this from memory so apologies if my misspellings are misspelt #my bro molesworth 2 is the spiritual antithesis of my cousin throckmorton

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kritzenkriegen · 9 months

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I would love to work with some crazy neon outrun-style lighting but how in the world would any merc find themselves in that kind of environment lol

#i'm not very creative in that way I don't do well with abstract #always welcoming ideas btw!#tf/2 vaporwave seems a bit antithesis don't you think

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darksoulsyuri · 1 year

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sometimes im glad i didnt like the things i like now at age 11 when i was a major weirdo and liked shipping minecraft youtubers (hal lore. sorry) and shit. im imagining that harrowing alternate dimension and shivering. Stay safe out there guys. Remember you are always growing and learning and changing and that your past of minecraft youtuberisms and being extremely fucking weird about fnaf is behind you

#Hal if she liked OW at age 11: would probably be a terminal fujo for streamers shipping league players #if i liked dakr souls when i was 11 (HIGHLY unlikely) i would have been actually delusional considering its like #the antithesis of what an 11 year old fujo would like #theres no gay people to ship! id have to make it up!#(throws dart @ the wiki to pick 2 bosses)#jokes aside i am so different than i was 10 years ago its kind of insane

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vodkaing · 11 months

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sorry for talking about consumption habits and trends i just think its interesting how peoples relationships with media and its messages develop </3

#my parents listening to me autistically rant about how jurassic world technically works as a nihilistic antithesis to the og series #(capital + private interests always taking priority over safety and morality)#but it doesnt even work that well bc the film isnt soulless on purpose #its quite literally made to recycle a nostalgic ip to sell merch and toys to with everyones favorite action hero crisp rat #yea im freaking pissed cuz i went 2 jurassic park at universal and they replaced everything with jurassic World #i hope theres a 3rd (4th??????) one where every human character gets stomped on by a big dinosaur i cant stand any of them #like not a single fucking likeable character #anyway i do this with ohter stuff and i can tell ppl i talk to are getting annoyed w it but like i think its so interesting im SORRYYYYYYYY

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planete777 · 4 months

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BAD INFLUENCE・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 2!

IN WHICH. getting high was never on oscar's roster. getting high and enjoying it with y/n and lando wasn't either, but that just makes it much more... exciting. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 16+, suggestive content, drug use (as per), high hotness pt 875443, oscar cameo (woop woop 🥳), make outs, first time getting high, oscar being whipped for lando and y/n? wbk, a bit of mxm content between drivers, shotgunning coz it's my most favourite thing ever

NOTE. LANDOSCAR!! this may probably be my favourite fic and is my longest so im looking forward to you guys reading it!!! well overdue in my humblest opinion, but i delivered hehe. enjoy my luvs and a very happy new year in advance mwah mwah mwah 😚😚 i appreciate all of you readers, thank you for all your support 💓💓💓

SIDENOTE. my askbox is now closed for requests 🤍

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu (use askbox above if you'd like to be added!)

frankly speaking, a 'you up?' text from oscar piastri, whose entire persona was an antithesis of what that type of message usually pertained to, isn't something lando was expecting at 1am after a tedious race weekend. knows oscar to be one who sleeps in too early, as if his circadian rhythm was built upon the foundation of a restrictive curfew, and even fathoming the fact that he is awake past 12 is rather peculiar.

yet, with the mutually pre-established sense that lando would be awake (he's probably an insomniac, but it's not too concerning for him to actually check), and that oscar was asking if he was just for the sake of, most likely because he's, unusually, unable to sleep, lando replies with much sluggish vim.

fingers moving as if they played in a dream, he's able to reply with 'yh, why????' and sends it off before throwing his phone on the bed. he thinks, if he's sober, he would care more that this is oscar!!!! who is normally adamant about getting sleep!!! and not looking more sleep deprived than his naturally downturned eyes already make he seem to be!!!! but his mind feels like gooey viscous, and he counts about 3,000 peaks and troughs of the popcorn ceiling above before losing count and seeking solace in the spliff that burns his throat like a madman. he ponders if he's going crazy.

it's not long after that the undulating, monotonous buzz from his phone tickles his skin and with a sigh he goes to reply. and as he does so, his girlfriend, curiosity piqued, perks up from the foot of the bed.

"who's texting you this late?"

she looks ridiculously amusing: head hanging off the edge, loose and completely yielding like a dead body, and the only thing that reassures lando of her consciousness is the occasion movement of her arm to take another drag.

he wedges the joint between his reddened lips, lips curling awkwardly to speak, "piastri. dunno what he wants th- oh shit."

he's never felt such a sinking, crippling feeling of his high escaping him like a broken dam before. it's weirdly chilling, and for a good second, he feels brightly and vividly sober again. the texts just... stare at him and he almost wants to hurl his phone at the wall and watch it rain a litany of debris.

osc: just... forgot to give you back your stuff that i borrowed

osc: found some green leaf stuff in it lol im a bit concerned

lando's read it so many times, he's more than certain he knows just how many letters it consists of. fingers hover above the keyboard but it looks like they're weirdly swimming in air as he debates just what to write, and y/n is suddenly hissing his name, having sat up.

"— lan'! fucking hell, what happened?"

he moves on autpilot, back resting up the headboard, "he's found my weed."

y/n— y/n snorts. she sighs, moves back to her original pose, and lando's brain feels like static.

"love, i thought it would be worse."

lando splutters, "worse? babe, this is already bad! he could tell management for all i know." the mere thought of that makes lando's mind congeal. nevertheless, high out of his wits, he thinks he would somehow find a way to continue even if he was implored to stop.

she's disagreeing and laughing, and lando doesn't know what to make of it.

"nah, you're good. oscar wouldn't tell a soul," it's silent as he sees a burst of smoke ascend from the edge of the mattress, "tell him to bring it over."

lando fights with himself in his head. it's hilarious, really, watching his face morph from one emotion to another, and after 5 minutes with no whooshing affirmative of a message being sent, y/n exhales.

the bed curves in as she crawls up towards lando, before plucking the phone from his grip.

"it's really not that deep, lan'," her voice feels like cotton in his ears, "oscar isn't like that."

her fingers fly across the keyboard, how she does so in her inebriated state, lando has no clue, and just as quickly as she snatched the phone, she's sliding it back between his fingers.

"how— how do you know that?"

all presumptions, really, lando thinks. they may be good friends, him and oscar, but they've still got many, many steps to go before he's reassured that the other wouldn't go running his mouth to management because he found *fucking weed* in his bag.

the little voice at the back of his mind seeths, 'you shouldn't be smoking anyway', but he ignores it. what the hell does it know?

y/n goes to straddle him, crotch digging into his. its a soft wave of pleasure that oozes from the pressure, and lando lets a small moan mix with the puff of smoke he blows out. they would've fucked if only his limbs didn't feel like they've been detached and re-stitched; maybe they'd end the night with a lazy ride.

his girlfriend smirks, all cunning and undeniably hot, sucking in as much smoke as she can before blowing it all on his face. if anybody else had done this, he'd turn feral, but there's something alluring when y/n's exhale tickles his skin like feathers.

"how do i know? well, oscar, he kinda reminds me of you—" lando interrupts with a raised brow and a questioning stare, but y/n proceeds, "both of you are- you were- itching for a release. him not as much as you, but i still see it."

and lando can't really deny that, because he sees it too. in the way oscar's eyes seem to dart with dreaded uncertainty, and the way his shoulders are always up and tense, as if he has been tied like a puppet.

"that's what i call 'destined to get high'," y/n banters. it makes lando snort and roll his eyes (ultimately omitting to dwell on the sliver of seriousness that leaks through).

"dunno why you're rolling your eyes, you were basically begging me to give you a spliff," y/n taunts, and even though he groans at the reminiscence, he doesn't deny it. doing so would be like calling himself michael schumacher.

"yeah, whatever," he takes a lazy drag, a hand sliding up and down y/n's thigh, "at least i'm sexy when getting stoned."

y/n cackles, dissolving into a small giggle as she twirls her fingers through lando's curls; she never wants to let him go.

"damn right, baby."

another ping sounds from lando's phone, and subconsciously, his hands snakes to get it.

when he turns it on, he doesn't think he can be gobsmacked with such intensity twice in a day.

landooo: yh just bring it over

landooo: you can join us if you'd like

landooo: 😉

osc: uhm sure..

"y/n."

-.-.-.-.-

weed.

he'll be fucking damned.

the laugh that is punched out of him is one of disbelief, and, quite frankly, sheer horror.

he'd only wanted to borrow some shaving cream, after all, he's not one to favour the prickly itch of stubble. and in perfect, restless lando fashion, he was given the whole essentials bag and tasked with finding it himself.

which then leads him to now, palm burning with the weight of three spliffs that had somehow tumbled out of a flat metal tin.

he stares at them for so long that he might as well have burned holes into them (ironic), and in a flurry of movement, he's stuffing everything back into the bag, zipping it closed. if he doesn't see it, then he doesn't know it's there. cool.

but he's just standing, in the middle of his hotel room, completely clueless and delirious. he doesn't know how many times he wipes perspiration off his palms and onto his shorts, neither does he know how he's able to text lando about his findings.

originally, he thought that sending the infamous, suggestively connotated 'you up?' would've trimmed a bit of the tension away, yet it seems like lando, without fail, waters the situation with a fuck-ton more.

"'join us'? fucking hell."

oscar feels absolutely scorched from the wisps of his hair to the tips of his toes, and a spark of something curls in his gut.

no, absolutely not.

it's- he flips his watch to check the time- one am for fuck's sake, and lando's— getting high. smoking weed. [most likely] with his girlfriend.

whatever it is that makes his gut its abode curls even more as he shoves his feet into the nearest shoes he can find, and tames his hair in the mirror by the doorway. finding the night already too hard to bare, he doesn't dwell on what he'd done, and heads off to lando's room with sickening anticipation swirling within the grooves of his skin.

the walk is only a few seconds long, and oscar curses the fact that they weren't roomed further apart (impractical in usual circumstances, but the current predicament is anything but usual). he guesses he stands there, navy blue wash bag clutched in a vice grip, for many minutes (his concept of time tonight is royally fucked— how has he stayed up this late?) before he musters up some courage to knock on the door. in the quietude of the night, the sound is magnified to the point where he winces and hopes that no one else on their floor wakes up.

he hears a quiet rustle from behind the door, sighs for the umpteenth time that day (honestly, he could have a smoke for himself to- no.) before it's swiftly open.

y/n stands there, no sign of a spliff in sight, but her heavy lidded red eyes (that must hurt, right?) and the pungent smell of weed is enough to tell.

"ah, golden boy is here," y/n's grinning, as much as she can do without it looking robotic, and oscar blushes.

"g-golden boy?"

"i said what i said," she opens the door wider, and oscar's vision catches a limp leg hanging off the side of the bed, "you coming in or what?"

he's never been in such a mind-tearing crossroad before. wants to be reasonable and say no, afterall his job is on the line here (just because lando hasn't been caught, doesn't mean he won't, too). but then he's thinking that he's played angel's advocate for too long, and, as if the universe wants to commit a double homicide, lando is walking over, countenance lackadaisical and bends down as he wraps his arms around her waist.

he asks for forgiveness, because such a temptation before him is completely unforgiving , and oscar finds his vascillations come to an end the second he makes eye contact with his teammate.

it's then he realises that the something that had been driving his intestines mad was sheer want, and, having a mind of their own, his feet shuffle into the room, decision finalised by the click of the door shutting behind him.

he just hopes he doesn't regret this is in the morning.

the couple, with eased familiarity, move back to the bed, leaving oscar standing there, lost and expecting. lando regains possession of the spliff, back flat against the bed and arm bent behind his head.

he's turning to oscar, several beats later, with a heated look that just pulls the australian right in.

"put the bag down, osc," he's demanding— oh fuck, "and come over here."

oscar feels rather mortified at the effect lando's assertiveness has on him. his heart curdles, drips away like goo, and he can't think straight.

toes off his shoes, sliding them out of the way with his foot, before dumping the bag on lando's luggage and tentatively making his way to the bed.

it's excruciatingly daunting, must he say, and he's sure it's blatant because y/n is grinning softly and beckoning him closer with the wave of a hand.

"you're good, oscar."

then he's fully on the bed, a thin sheen of gray blurring his vision and the stench of smoke so thick, he could get high off it alone.

lando's splayed in front of him, watching intensely as his fingers accomodate a joint between them, and y/n's at his side, right at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a metal tin of her own.

he wonders just how long they've been doing this for.

"for me, since i was 18/19 maybe. lando started about a year ago."

oscar's brain fucking spasms.

his head whips to y/n, then back to lando, who just smiles and takes another drag, "a year?!"

the girl beside him giggles, turning back to him with a freshly rolled spliff of his own, "yeah. practically drooling to take a hit."

his teammate groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up, they seem to go through this ordeal once or twice before.

before he can question any more, y/n points the joint at him, "you sure you want to do this?"

funny, he's asking himself this. has been ever since he read the proposition that lando (y/n) had sent, and he had replied with a seemingly confused 'sure'. heat feels like a thousands ants crawling up his body, and the silence is even worse because he's certain his ears are filled with cement.

"am i— am i gonna get addicted to... this?"

lando shakes his head just as y/n shrugs, "depends, love. if you've got good enough self control and don't rely on it too much, you'll be fine."

oscar gives a sigh of relief, but turns tense again as he looks at lando. almost telepathically, he knows what oscar is thinking.

"no osc, i'm not hooked on this. i only do it every couple of weeks or so."

his hands raise up in defense, "just asking, mate."

"and you have every right to, baby," y/n says, then scoops his hand into her grip and puts the spliff in his hand, "now take this and let lando teach you."

oscar doesn't know what to do with it. he just stares at the green stick in his hand and wills up some courage to look back up at lando. for the first time in 22 years, he's going to experience what it's like to get high, and the excitement that crawls up his spine is chilling.

"take this," lando pushes a bottle of water into his hands, and oscar looks at it in confusion.

"it's your first time, so it'll probably make you cough a ton. drinking water helps."

oscar nods, gently taking and unscrewing it open. he gulps it down like a starved animal, and almost chokes when he notices his teammates girlfriend staring bullets into his face. his heart jumps and he stops drinking.

"now put the spliff in your mouth and let me light it for you."

oscar does so, feeling the weight of the rolled joint between his lips is completely maddening.

his teammate fishes a black lighter from the bedside table, then scooches closer to oscar's crossed legs. lando's body is like a furnace of drunken heat, and it only gets worse when his hand lands right on oscar's bare thigh.

it feels perfect and oscar thinks he's surfing on the waves of euphoria already.

"this good?" lando questions his touch, and oscar doesn't waste time to nod, "alright— when i light it, you're gonna try and inhale as much as you can. don't let it stay in your throat or you're gonna cough."

oscar bobs his head affirmatively.

"if you can't, just take it in small amounts, not too much that it hits your throat."

then lando's leaning in, flame swaying from the lighter, and oscar's eyebrows scrunch as he follows it closer and closer to the spliff.

it's instaneous, the heat that fills his mouth, and in a hurried succession, oscar is inhaling and spluttering like a madman. his eyes are burning, they may already be red at this point, and his nose feels ripped off.

"take it easy, love," a hand- y/n's- rests upon his back and he finds himself needing composure, and not only from his failed attempt to smoke.

"wow uh that was— uhm..."

lando rubs his thigh, with the intention to comfort, but oscar finds himself more pent up than before. the weed is already kicking in and his mind feels chopped into pieces and mixed with cake batter, and every touch feels like a punch.

"you good to go again?" lando queries. oscar nods, his throat feeling too rough to speak up, "okay then, take your time and calm yourself down. small intakes, yeah?"

the spliff goes back between his lips, and with lando watching him like he's the best movie he's ever seen, he's sucking in the smoke cautiously and— fuck, it feels so so good. he's unravelled everywhere, not a kink left in his joint nor a knot remaining in his muscles, and when he breathes the smoke out, he lets his head fall back with a smile on his face.

"there you go," lando's voice sounds loose and airy in his mind, and oscar finds himself loving it.

"look at him, babe," y/n chimes from beside him, and his head rolls to give her an inebriated grin, "told you he was meant for it."

lando hums, agreeing, from in front of him, "gonna shotgun with him."

whatever that is, y/n is eager to see it happen, and oscar gives lando a confused look. it only evokes a cute grin from the other, who plucks the spliff from oscar's fingers.

"i'll take a hit and blow it in your mouth, if that's cool with you."

and— oscar moans involuntarily. he doesn't know where it comes from but it's practically punched out of him with how loud it is, and lando smirks widely. all oscar can do is watch as he fills his mouth with smoke and shuffles closer to him. his heart palpitates, beating like a drum piece, and his skin is damp and flushed from the intensity of it all.

lando assesses oscar's decision, confirming his consent as he nods, and slowly, lando snakes an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. oscar is compliant, body wanting and downright desperate, mouth opening on autopilot.

the second lando's lips attach to his and the smoke is pushed into his mouth, oscar fucking loses it. his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he's grabbing lando's hair and pushing his mouth deeper.

he's kissing his teammate with all he has to give, and lando— he's reciprocating it, lips hungry on oscar's, biting and licking everywhere. for a second, oscar can't think about anything, mind filled with just lando, as his tongue slips in and turns the kiss filthy.

oscar hasn't made out with anyone with such ferocity. he's encompassed in scorching heat, and the euphoria just gets better as lando trails his lips down his neck. the bites and licks are inclement, and oscar's sure there'd be marks tomorrow, angry and purple, but right now, he doesn't care. not when lando's hands creep up his shirt, and run up his torso, resting upon his nipples and twirling them around his fingers.

"oh fuck, lando," his moan is so high pitched it sounds foreign and it's almost hard for him to believe that it comes from him. but he's sure it does, because another is forced out as soft hand turns his head to the side and there's another set of lips on his in an instant.

he thinks he could hooked on y/n's kisses, warm, wet and so fucking sensual, he feels worshipped. not an inch of skin is missed by her tongue, and with every drag of her lips against his, he's concluding that this would be the perfect way to die.

oscar's so hard in his jeans from lando's stimulation, y/n's kisses, and the heightened sensation of everything from the weed, that he almost cums in his shorts. he can only imagine how plump it could be, and how a mouth on it would have him sobbing for days.

but he doesn't have to, because lando creeps a hand to his crotch and squeezes. the whine that leaves oscars mouth and into his teammate's girlfriend's is criminal.

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.

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