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lady-raziel · 11 days

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For the record does the Watcher thing going on mean it's immoral to consume Watcher content now?

this is a strange ask, and i'm also aware that this was sent before the update video came out and the news might change whether or not you care, so assuming this is a genuine question that you're asking because you really want my take on it (people try to ask "gotcha" questions in asks all the time, so you have to take things with a grain of salt), i will answer this genuinely.

it is not up to me, or anyone else for that matter, to decide what media in your life is "moral" or not. morals are complicated. morals are squishy. morals can and should change as you grow and evolve and sticking to one steadfast idea of what is right and wrong has gotten a lot of people in trouble for basically the whole of human history. it's up to you to decide what you believe in, while taking care to make sure that the same things you're standing for aren't the ones you're going to fall for. it's really important that you make up your mind for yourself about how everything from your politics and religion to what you buy and yes, what media you consume, fits into your own sense of morality. big picture shit-- that's how you become a well-rounded person who doesn't get taken advantage of by the countless people who want to sell you their ideas of right and wrong to serve their own motives.

it's hard, i get it, to not just say "well, xyz group of people says this thing is bad, and i agree with them about other stuff, so i'll just go along with them." we all bandwangon to a certain extent, whether for the sake of convenience or to be accepted by those we respect or many other reasons. i do this too, certainly-- there's no need to share every opinion you have on the internet with everyone even if it's not controversial.

but please, if i'm able to impress on you anything that you can take away from my silly blog, it would be that you shouldn't let other people decide what media is "right" or "wrong" to watch based on THEIR moral sensibilities. Use your best judgement and decide that for yourself, based on what you believe. Someone is always going to disagree with you. Sometimes a lot of someones are going to disagree with you. Don't let that stop you from exercising your right to have your own opinion.

Consuming a certain type of media does not automatically make you a good and/or bad person. Lots of bad shit happens in the bible. lots of moral shit can happen in a porn-filled 50-part destiel omegaverse mpreg deconstruction of gender norms too. (i'm making that second one up, but i have no doubt someone will send me an ask later wondering if i'm referring to a specific fic. no. but godspeed.)

i'm pontificating now. i like to take small things and make them into big, important things. that's my poison of choice. but yeah. this is a question you have to answer for yourself if you want the answer to mean anything real.

#do i put this in the main tag?#i think...everyone has heard enough from me today #i will let the big questions of life remain comfortably on my blog for the dedicated follower willing to slog through markiplier memes

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freeuselandonorris · 7 months

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hello please some unhinged mctwinks exploring the post-podium opportunities to, idk, pee on each other or sth (your pal emptyhalf)

this is a GOD TIER PROMPT and one of many reasons i treasure you.

this is 2500 words of filth. i’ll x-post it to AO3 for anyone who’d rather read there!

cw: piss kink, spit, generally gross boys being gross. don’t say i didn’t warn you !!

“You know what’s, like, actually really fucking sad,” Lando says, rolling onto his back so he’s at a weird right-angle to Oscar and craning his neck at a truly stupid angle to look up at him.

Oscar prods him in the head with his socked foot. “Go on. I’m sure this will be very tragic.”

Lando sighs dramatically and bats at Oscar’s foot. “I feel like—how do we even celebrate this?”

They’ve been hanging out in Oscar’s bedroom for nearly three hours now and neither of them has initiated sex, which is bizarre and unnatural. Mostly it’s probably because they’re both still jet-lagged. Oscar’s had a couple of beers already—this is his only cheat day between now and the end of the season and damnit, he wants to take advantage—but largely all it’s doing is making him feel a bit sleepy.

“What do you mean,” he says, and kicks Lando gently in the head again. “Did you want a parade? Naked girls holding signs saying ‘well done Lando and Oscar’ and doing the can-can in the living room?”

“Yeah, I’d take that,” Lando says. “Wait, the can-can? Are you from the past?”

“I’m sure Zak’s planned something extremely cringe for tomorrow,” Oscar says, ignoring him. “And then you can spend an hour bitching about how much you hate it and also hate being the centre of attention.” He finishes the last mouthful of his beer, which is warm and slightly foamy.

Lando groans and flops his arms over his face. “You know how most of them celebrate? I bet George gets, like, a blowjob. That’s his special treat.” The disdain dripping from his voice is something else. He grabs Oscar’s foot and rubs it over his face, because he’s fucking disgusting like that. Oscar’s not a foot guy but he’ll allow it. “Like, a Tuesday for us is basically birthdays and anniversaries for them.”

“‘Them,’” Oscar echoes, putting his empty bottle down so he can do the air quotes.

Lando puts Oscar’s toes into his mouth and chews at them thoughtfully. He really is fucking vile. Oscar’s so fucking fond of him. He curls his toes against Lando’s teeth and then pulls away, grimacing at the feeling of wet sock.

“Normals,” Lando says, and wriggles up to straddle Oscar. “Yanno. The straights.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but grabs Lando by the hips. They tussle briefly, until Oscar gets a hand under Lando’s hoodie and tweaks his nipple, making him yelp and squirm pleasingly over Oscar’s semi. “So you’re saying you’re sad because you’re having too much good sex and you got a podium? Fuck up, mate.”

Lando grins down at him, tongue running along the edges of his sharp little teeth. “I’m just saying. A blowie doesn’t feel like a fitting tribute.”

He has to stifle a giggle as he says ‘blowie’. Oscar scrunches his nose.

“Maybe we need to move onto the weird stuff,” he says idly, stretching his arms out above his head and grabbing the headboard so his t-shirt rides up. Predictably, Lando takes the hint and shoves it the rest of the way up to his armpits, licks a broad hot stripe down his sternum.

“What do you mean, weird stuff,” says Lando against his right pec, sounding hurt. “I thought we already did weird stuff.”

To prove his point, he lifts his head just far enough to spit, saliva dripping from his pursed lips to run in a hot trickle down the dip of Oscar’s stomach. Lando catches it with his tongue before it runs into his navel, licking it back up.

“You are so fucking vile,” Oscar says, like his cock’s not jumping in his sweatpants. “I dunno, you came second, didn’t you? Dealer’s choice.”

Lando pushes himself up then, squinting at Oscar. “Anything I want,” he says, sing-song like he’s testing the waters. His eyes are gleaming.

“Within reason,” Oscar amends. Just in case. To get things moving along a bit faster, he wriggles out of his t-shirt.

Lando tips his head to one side, thoughtful.

“You look like a really stupid dog when you do that,” Oscar tells him, and Lando punches him in the stomach, then immediately undermines his effort to seem offended by tipping himself forward and bracing himself with his hands either side of Oscar’s head so he can rub himself off against Oscar’s thigh.

“Right,” he says, gazing right at Oscar from about four inches away. He’s got annoyingly beautiful eyes, which is a problem because it makes it very hard for Oscar to deny him anything at all, ever. Thank God they race with helmets on. “I wanna piss in your lap.”

It’s so far removed from what Oscar had been expecting to hear—it’s not even a combination of words he’s entirely sure makes sense together—that he splutters into laughter, accidentally knocking their foreheads together. Lando makes a high, offended noise and bites at his jaw.

“That’s not a thing,” Oscar tells him, letting Lando kiss him briefly, tongues sliding messily across each other.

“Yes it is,” Lando says when he pulls back. “I saw it on xHamster.” He bites at Oscar’s top lip, a sharp nip, then sits up, bratty and dishevelled. “C’mon, you said anything I wanted and I wanna try this.”

He’s already tugging at the drawstrings of his sweatpants. Oscar shoves his hands away, trying not to get distracted by the heavy shape of his cock distending the front of them. “Whoa. No piss on the bed, fuck off.”

Lando actually pouts at that, like Oscar’s being somehow unreasonable. Oscar loses his internal battle and cups him through his joggers, rubbing the head with his palm. Lando’s eyelashes flutter pleasingly.

“Fine—ah—fine, we’ll go in the bath then,” he says. His voice has gone slightly breathy already. He’s so easy for it. “Here, bring that blanket for us to lie on.”

He waves a hand at the grey blanket thrown over the chair Oscar uses for laundry storage. “Oh, come on,” Oscar says. “My mum bought that.”

Lando shrugs and slithers off Oscar’s lap to check the label. “Here,” he says, waving it triumphantly. “Machine washable, 40C.” He pronounces it like sees. Probably he’s never met a washing machine in his life.

Oscar lifts his hands in defeat. “Fine. Go on.”

It feels extremely silly watching Lando spread the blanket out across the bottom of the bath and then lying down on it while Lando pulls his hoodie off, trying to keep all the tender bits of his body out of Lando’s way while he gets himself in and straddles Oscar’s lap. It’s not a bad-sized bath, but it’s not really built for two.

He pulls his knees up slightly so Lando’s tipped slightly forward, one hand steadying himself on Oscar’s shoulder, their erections snug against each other with layers of fabric in between.

“This better be worth it,” he says when Lando’s finally got himself settled. “So much admin.”

He can’t help but rock up into the warm weight of Lando across his hips. Lando beams down at him, grinding against him so hard it’s on the verge of crushing his balls, but in a good way, somehow. Oscar lets his head fall back against the bathtub with a dull thunk.

“Alright, alright,” Lando says, breathing noisily. “Shut up, yeah, let me just—“

It’s actually happening, Oscar realises with a senseless thrill down his spine. Half of him hadn’t really believed Lando was going to actually do it, had assumed he’d just named the grossest thing he could think of to fuck with Oscar’s head. Which is probably still true, but.

Lando bites his bottom lip and squirms, screwing his face up. Oscar’s gaze flicks down between their legs just in time to see a wet spot appear on Lando’s sweats, darker green against the neon.

“Fuck,” Oscar says involuntarily, feeling himself flush. His cock kicks in his pants for no discernible reason.

Lando squawks and hits him in the chest. “Don’t commentate!” He writhes, looking briefly agonised. “Oh, you prick. I’ve lost it now. Fuck.”

“Oh my god,” Oscar mutters. “Look, I’ll shut my eyes until you get going, yeah?”

He does so, lifting his hands to cover his eyes. He listens to Lando grumbling under his breath and shifting around on top of him, and then everything goes still and silent. Oscar’s about to take his hands away and ask if everything’s okay, but then Lando lets out a sudden rush of held breath and his fingers tighten on Oscar’s shoulders.

Nothing happens for a second, and then the wetness soaks through Oscar’s joggers and he lets out a strangled gasp.

It’s—not good exactly, but it’s intense. Lando’s grinding lightly against him as he pisses, drenching them both at once. It’s hotter than he’d have expected, both in terms of the temperature of it and the way it makes his cock twitch as his pants begin to stick to him.

And then he opens his eyes and looks at Lando’s face.

He can’t stop his little groan: Lando looks the same way he does when Oscar’s fucking him, head tipped back, bottom lip caught between his incisors, flash of tongue visible behind.

Oscar looks down the line of their bodies, at the soaking patch covering both of their laps, the sodden fabric clinging to the outline of Lando’s erection. He reaches out and covers it with his hand, squeezing him through the dripping fabric, letting it run over his hand. It looks utterly obscene through the wet fabric. He’s really unfairly hung for someone who looks in all other respects like a particularly ripped 12-year-old. Maybe it’s a perspective trick.

Lando slits open his eyes, gazing down at Oscar. He looks fucked-out already, and Oscar grabs at his thighs to give himself more leverage to grind himself up. Lando laughs, a rough sound low in his throat, and shoves his soaked sweatpants down his hips far enough to get his cock out and piss all over Oscar’s stomach.

It’s the wrongness of it that’s the turn-on, Oscar thinks distantly, stomach twitching under the stream. It’s viscerally filthy in a way that he’ll probably have a crisis over later, but right now he couldn’t give a fuck.

“Up a bit,” he says, surprising them both. Lando inhales sharply, the ragged edges of his fingernails biting into Oscar’s shoulder where he’s still holding himself steady with his free hand. He adjusts his angle, sending a stream across Oscar’s chest. It pools into the hollow of his neck, running back into his hair.

Oscar opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue just a bit.

“Oh, you’re nasty,” Lando murmurs, delighted. Oscar raises his eyebrows, curling his tongue. It’s always nice to shock Lando. Rare, but nice.

Lando has to kneel up a bit, slipping on the wet blanket beneath them, and the loss of contact to his dick absolutely fucking sucks, but it’s worth it for his expression when he manages to hit Oscar’s cheek and chin and spray across his tongue.

Oscar splutters a bit, more at the sensation than the taste—it’s not really getting far enough into his mouth to actually taste it, just spitting it back down his chin, letting it run down. Lando’s eyes are blank and unfocused with pleasure, mouth hanging open. Oscar does his best to hold his gaze.

“Fucking gross,” Lando affirms as his stream begins to slow to a trickle, dribbling over his fingers and Oscar’s stomach. He says it like the highest of compliments. His pupils are blown, and he grins loose and pleased before he tips in to kiss Oscar hard, mouth running over his wet skin.

“Your fucking idea,” Oscar says into his mouth, laughing—he can barely get the words out, muffled by Lando sticking his tongue down his throat.

He’s jerking off fast an eager, arm moving so fast Oscar can feel the movement of it through his thighs. Oscar pushes wet hands into his hair, holding him in place as Lando’s mouth falters against his. He’s definitely gonna have beard burn from Lando’s appalling facial hair, but whatever.

Lando moans into his mouth and comes all over Oscar’s stomach. The mess of it immediately begins to slide down Oscar’s side and he sends yet another mental apology to his mum’s blanket before grabbing Lando by the hips and yanking him down to sit on his dick.

Yelping, Lando drops his forearm to Oscar’s shoulder, one hand wrestling his softening cock back into his pants before Oscar accidentally squashes him. Oscar fights him down, thrusting up greedily and trying to pin Lando in place. His brain is wiped clean of all impulses except grinding Lando’s arse against his soaking, trussed-up dick until he comes.

For all he sometimes acts like he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs when he’s not in the car, Lando’s got surprisingly good hip action. Their stomachs slip against each other, slick with Lando’s come. Oscar claws at the small of his back, plants his feet and shoves his hips up to meet each roll of Lando’s.

Lando giggles and shoves three fingers between his parted lips, fucking Oscar’s mouth, smearing spit. Oscar doesn’t even feel bad that he bites down when he comes into his pants, Lando pinned down so hard against him he can hardly breathe.

They sort of collapse against each other once Oscar’s finished shaking and whimpering and sucking on Lando’s fingers to muffle the more embarrassing noises threatening to get out. All at once, Oscar becomes aware that he feels absolutely disgusting. His mouth tastes vaguely of salt.

“Wow,” Lando says after a minute. It takes him a couple of attempts to sit up properly. He looks like Oscar feels: a bit shell-shocked, a lot fucked-out.

“You’re doing the washing,” Oscar mumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Lando grins and ducks down to kiss him again, sweeter now.

“Just leave it all in here and we’ll shower and rinse it all off in one go,” he says, shuffling back until he can offer Oscar a hand to pull him up. “And then we can go lie down and I’ll explain why all your opinions about the new Counter-Strike are wrong.”

“Sounds good,” Oscar says a bit blearily. One thing you can say in Lando’s favour is he doesn’t mind if you nap through his infodumps.

Lando smiles at him in a way that looks worryingly fond and drags himself up to sit on the edge of the tub so he can unhook the shower head and get the water running warm.

“I’d better get thinking,” he says contemplatively.

“About what?” Oscar says, trying to struggle out of his wet pants. He’s gonna get clean and drag himself to bed and sleep for about four hours, and then he’s gonna make Lando fuck him through the mattress.

Lando smirks and aims the shower at his face. “About what I’m gonna do to you when I win.”

#do i put this in the main tag?#yeah fuck it #lando norris/oscar piastri #mctwinks #ln4 #op81 #prompt fill

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