one thing I love about myself: I like that I can laugh whenever i make silly mistakes or something goes wrong, instead of getting frustrated and letting it ruin my day :)
dream place to visit: Latin America, I want to go soooo bad
looking forward to: I'm taking a gap year next year and I'm going to travel a lot in that time, so definitely looking forward to that!
biggest dream: travel around the world
song on repeat: Past Life by Ariana Grande <3
Tags: @landosangel @orbitingspacejunk @leedeedum @smallsolace and anyone else who wants to do it!!
Oscar wakes in the hills above Monaco, covered in a dense layer of detritus.
He blinks up at the cloudless sky above him, brows knitting together in confusion. Beneath him, the floor is cold and rough, the twinge of a rock digging into the meat of his lower back. A rising tide of panic fills his chest, saliva flooding the space under his tongue. Swallowing back the threat of nausea, he gingerly pushes himself to a seated position, blinking through the resounding hammering in his head. The motion causes something to pull along his spine, a short, audible hiss leaving his lips. Wisps of some organic matter float across his vision, only dissipating when he blinks his eyes two, three times; squeezing his lids close on the final attempt, so tight his waterlines sing with it.
How did he get here?
Or: the Venom!Oscar fic. written for @blessedlikeholywater for @f1-summerween-fest
You've said that you used to have 100k+ hits on ao3 in other fandoms so my question is... Any tips? The first time I posted and flopped it completely destroyed my love for the fandom. Now I know better, I had unrealistic expectations, so it doesn't really bother me anymore though I'm still trying to figure out how to attract readers because we all know that it still matters no matter how much we write for ourselves. I've noticed that people mostly read fics over 10k words, short oneshots are not that popular. Also people tend to not leave kudos under unfinished works. And everyone would rather read smut over anything else . I'm just noticing these patterns, maybe I'm delusional, maybe I should completely ignore all of them but I can't help it lol
Im sure it also depends on fandom! That fandom was a lot bigger and more fanfiction-pilled than F1 already is and that says a lot hahahah
Honestly my first fic i was just doing some stuff and figuring it out and yeah it was indeed a lotttt of words but ive always been the type to write long fics so that might just be a me thing but that one got about 18k at first after it was done? It was also a slowburn so i think they only did something about halfway. I was sooo excited and had a lot prewritten so i think it was 8 chapters with about 10-20k words per chapter and i posted it over 9 days or something? Which mustve helped as well.
After that i got reaalllyyy creative with my second fic and i wrote something entirely different than what people had read before! I went completely outside the box with a different format and uploaded very quickly (once a day and sometimes even multiple times a day, because they were pretty short chapters) and it just made people keep up with it very actively :) it ended up going insanely viral which is definitely also pure luck, but after that viral fic i really built a profile and tried to interact more with my readers and it honestly built a lot of loyal readers who would actively keep up with everything i wrote! (That first fic went from 18k to about 30k after the viral one finished😭) this was also a VERY slowburn!! I think they never even hooked up actually now that im thinking about it… lol. there was some smut though but also about 80% into the story!
In F1 people definitely like smut though yeah ive noticed too hahaha, im lucky i LOVE writing it but if its not your cup of tea which is totally fine then you definitely dont need it! That one super popular landoscar fic that went viral recently didnt have any smut at all except for the last 20k (of the 150k) words! And if you do feel like you need it to get traction without wanting to write it, just write tension and never really let it get further, people looooove tension hahahah😭
And i havent noticed kudos! In the most unfortunately narcissistic way i never really noticed kudos anymore and turned their notifs off after my second fic! Ive been looking at them now again to see if people like my new works but once a fic gets bigger i mostly always snooped in the amount of bookmarks and what people had to say about it🫠
Basically just be original! Be outside the box! Dont be afraid to write something different or angsty! (i wrote a lot of angst and a lot more serious stories than the fandom was sometimes used to) but also just remember its pure luck, maybe if that second one hadnt blown up id have never had multiple fics with +100k, its pure algorithm (and also a good catchy summary is veryyy important!!)
Lwk nobody mentions how difficult it is to go from writing fics with over a 100k hits to starting all over again in a new fandom and waiting to reach that first thousand
Posted the first chapter of Cherry! In which Lando sets out on what he thinks is a simple, good-natured mission: find his teammate, Oscar, a no-strings-attached rebound to help him get over a recent heartbreak. After all, what are teammates for?
But his plan hits a wall when he discovers that Oscar, at twenty-five, is still a virgin, having saved himself for marriage with his last girlfriend.
And something in Lando snaps.
Suddenly, he's knee-deep in a virginity kink he never knew he had, a bisexuality crisis he didn't ask for, and a thirst for his teammate that's downright feral. He can't stop thinking about Oscar's inexperience. About being the first. About ruining him for anyone else.
It becomes impossible to ignore. If Oscar is waiting for someone to show him what it all means, why shouldn’t it be Lando? He’s right there. He wants to be the one.
He'll show Oscar exactly what it feels like to be wrecked by a handjob, wrecked by a blowjob, wrecked by him.
Lando isn’t just offering Oscar an education, he’s offering him himself.
Chapter one of my Landoscar Spiderman AU has been uploaded! Here's a snippet :)
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The front door goes again, and this time Oscar comes barreling through it, out of breath, hair stuck to his forehead in a way that suggests he ran considerably harder than a casual jog requires. He drops his backpack through his bedroom door without even really aiming, doesn't wait to hear it land, just crosses straight to the couch and drops down next to Lando with a heavy exhale, like the couch personally owed him this.
Before Lando can even react, Oscar's hand shoots out and swipes the second piece of toast right off the plate balanced on Lando's knee.
"Hey—" Lando yanks the plate back like that's going to help now, glaring sideways as Oscar takes an enormous bite, entirely unbothered. "That was mine."
"Mm," Oscar says, which is not a real word, mouth so full it's honestly a public health concern.
"Where'd you even go," Lando asks, mostly just to have something to say while he mourns his toast.
"Run," Oscar says, still chewing, bits of crust visible in a way that makes Lando recoil slightly.
"Disgusting. Swallow before you talk to me." Lando kicks him lightly in the shin, more reflex than actual annoyance, and Oscar just grins around his mouthful, entirely unrepentant, chewing louder on purpose now that he knows it's bothering him.
Lando shakes his head, going back to his show, letting a beat of quiet settle before he remembers. "Oh, hey, laser tag thing's tonight, with everyone. You gonna make it?"
"I've confirmed that three separate times now," Oscar says, finally swallowing properly. "In the group chat. Multiple times. I'll be there."
"I know, I know, I just—" Lando shrugs, picking at the crust of his remaining toast, not really looking at him. "I don't know, feels like every time we've got something planned lately you get pulled into some lab thing or whatever, and you show up for like ten minutes and vanish. It's been a minute since you actually properly hung out with everyone."
It comes out lighter than it maybe should, more observation than complaint, but Oscar goes quiet for a second anyway, and then his arm comes up and lands heavy around Lando's shoulders, pulling him half sideways into a rough, one-armed hug.
"I'll be there," Oscar says again, quieter this time, more sincere than the joking confirmation from a second ago. "Laser tag. All night if you want. I promise."
Lando lets himself lean into it for a second, into the weight of Oscar's arm slung around him, and for a moment neither of them says anything else, just sit there in the easy quiet with the TV murmuring along in the background, some mid-morning anchor droning through traffic updates that neither of them is actually listening to. Lando's about to say something else, some joke to fill the silence before it gets too soft, too sincere for a Saturday morning, when the anchor's voice shifts, sharpens, cuts off mid-sentence.
The screen cuts abruptly to a red BREAKING NEWS banner, and Lando's whole body reacts before his brain even finishes processing the words on it, lunging for the remote wedged between the couch cushions and cranking the volume up so fast Oscar flinches beside him.
"—developing situation at the First Continental branch on 5th, where witnesses report a robbery in progress turned hostage situation just under twenty minutes ago—"
The footage cuts to shaky phone video, some bystander's angle from across the street, grainy and zoomed in too far, but unmistakable all the same, a familiar red-and-blue shape crawling up the side of the building before dropping clean through a shattered second-story window. Lando's practically vibrating, leaning forward off the couch cushion, plate completely forgotten in his lap.
"Oh my god, oh my god, turn it up more, wait it's already—" He's talking over the reporter now, which defeats the purpose entirely, but he can't help it.
More footage rolls, different angle now, taken from inside a car judging by the dashboard visible at the bottom of frame, engine idling, someone's phone propped against the wheel to catch it all. It shows the front doors of the bank bursting open in a spray of glass, three men in ski masks stumbling out backwards, actually thrown out, one after another in quick succession, each of them yanked back mid-stumble by some invisible force a half second before they'd have hit the sidewalk. There's no visible webbing in this angle, not yet, just the men jerking backward like marionettes on strings nobody can see, gone from frame entirely before the driver even has time to react.
The camera swings up, shaky, overcorrecting, and catches the source of it a beat too late, a red-and-blue blur already three stories up and moving, barely more than a smear of color against the grey of the building before it's gone around the corner. By the time the phone camera steadies out and pans back down, all three men are already strung up together against a lamppost outside, and the crowd gathered on the opposite sidewalk is audibly reacting, someone laughing, someone else going oh my god, oh my god on repeat.
The webbing job itself is almost absurd in how thorough it is, dense and messy, layered on in a way that looks less like practical restraint and more like someone got creative with the extra few seconds they had. All three men are bound together in one lumpy mass, stuck to the pole and to each other at wildly different angles, one upside down with his masked head inches from the pavement, another sideways like he's been slotted in as an afterthought, and the third stuck high enough up the post that his foot juts out over the sidewalk at a height that's going to be somebody's problem when the fire department shows up with a ladder. A kid somewhere off camera can be heard asking his mom if the guy's foot is supposed to be like that.
The clip cuts back to the live shot, reporter standing well back behind a strip of police tape, wind picking up her hair as she holds the mic a little closer.
"No hostages harmed," she says, voice pitched for the camera, professionally composed despite the chaos still visible over her shoulder, officers moving in and out of frame, an ambulance parked at an angle further down the block, lights still spinning even though nobody's being loaded into it yet. "All eleven hostages accounted for and safely out of the building. Two individuals sustained minor injuries during the confrontation and are being treated on scene, though officials say neither injury is considered serious." She pauses, glancing briefly off camera at something, maybe someone signaling from behind the tape, before continuing. "Police say by the time units arrived, the situation had already been fully neutralized. No money was taken from the vault, and all three suspects are currently in custody, still, as you can see, restrained in what officers on scene are calling, quote, 'an unusually elaborate' method of containment."
Behind her, just visible at the edge of frame, one of the webbed men can be seen struggling weakly against his restraints, entirely uselessly, the whole lamppost creaking slightly with the effort.
"He beat the cops there," Lando says, mostly to himself, hands coming up to grip either side of his own head like the thought physically requires containment. "He beat the cops there, Oscar, do you understand what that means? That's insane. That's actually insane. The last one of these, the warehouse thing back in March, he was maybe two minutes ahead of them, tops, and now he's just, what, beating them there entirely, from a cold start, no warning, nothing—"
"Lando—"
"No, listen, listen, I've been tracking this for the show, charting it out and everything, and he's getting faster. Like noticeably faster, not just a little, and stronger too, did you see him throw that guy? That guy went clean through actual drywall, Oscar, structural drywall, not some flimsy partition wall, and that's not nothing, that takes real force, that's a genuine measurable increase from even like six weeks ago—"
"Lando."
"What."
Oscar's still watching the screen, unbothered, arms crossed loosely over his chest, mouth working around nothing now that his toast is long gone, chewing on the memory of it maybe, expression settled somewhere between mild interest and mild, infuriating judgment. "Two people got hurt."
"Yeah, but he still got everyone out, that's still a win, all eleven hostages, zero fatalities, that's still objectively a—"
"I'm just saying." Oscar shrugs, sinking back into the couch cushions with the kind of unbothered ease of someone discussing a slightly interesting weather pattern rather than what is, to Lando, unquestionably the single most important news story of the week. "If he's really getting that strong, that fast, seems like he should be able to handle a bank robbery without anyone ending up needing an ambulance. Feels like a pretty low bar, honestly, for someone throwing men through walls."
Lando turns to stare at him, genuinely offended on Spider-Man's behalf, like Oscar's just insulted a mutual friend at a dinner party. "He's one guy, Oscar. One guy, no backup, no gadgets that we know of, fighting off three armed men in a room full of civilians who could've been shot at any second, and you're sitting here docking points because two people walked away with bruises instead of nothing at all. Forgive him for not achieving actual perfection under literalgunpoint."
"He definitely has gadgets, mate. And I'm just saying it's not that impressive if people still get hurt." Oscar says it flat, quieter than the conversation really calls for, gaze dropping to somewhere around his own hands rather than staying on the screen, some of the usual teasing edge gone out of his voice entirely, replaced by something closer to actual conviction.
Lando doesn't catch the shift, too busy being affronted, and smacks the back of Oscar's head for it, not hard, just enough to make the point land, already twisting back toward the TV before Oscar's even finished making a wounded noise in protest. "You have no soul. None. I genuinely don't know how I live with you."
It's not a new argument, not really, they've had some version of it a dozen times over the past year, and it's always struck Lando as a little strange, if he actually stops to think about it, which he mostly doesn't. He and Oscar are opposites in basically every measurable way, always have been, ever since freshman year, Lando loud where Oscar's quiet, chaotic where Oscar's methodical, the kind of mismatched roommate pairing that should never have worked on paper and somehow just did, effortlessly, from week one. Lando's never minded the differences, actually kind of loves them, finds something comforting in how easily they balance each other out.
But this, Oscar's weird, persistent, almost personal grudge against Spider-Man, is the one place their opposite-ness has never quite made sense to him. Everyone loves the guy. Kids love him, old ladies love him, the entire city loves him, and yet somehow Oscar, gentle, soft-hearted, always-first-to-help Oscar, is the one person Lando knows who can watch the man save eleven hostages from armed robbers and find something to be disappointed about. Lando's never understood it, has stopped trying to argue him out of it most days, and figures he never will.
Been thinking about this fic idea where oscars been saving himself for marriage with his gf but then they break up, cue lando who finds out about him having never been touched by someone else, and he decides he just has to teach oscar about everything hes been missing out on and never got to learn, as the good dutiful teammate he is of course
Ughhh i want to write landoscar so bad im so excited i want to write a hungergames AU and an odyssey/illiad AU based off like achilles/patroclos and i want to write a ww2 AU and an a/b/o AU and a popstar AU and UGHHHH i dont even know where to START
amandla
gummygunk
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
ellievsbear
origamiaround
