#does that make it perfect?? no ... but it makes it fun

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor –”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

[firehose118]

in sickness

for @bucktommypositivityweek - predict the future

Buck is rooting through their sock drawer when he finds it.

He’s looking for a particular pair of socks: wool, blue and grey striped, soft and warm. They’re the ones that Tommy likes to wear when he’s sick, and right now he is sick. It’s nothing life-threatening, but Tommy is miserable. He hasn’t been able to breathe out of his nose for two days now, his nostrils have been rubbed raw by tissue after tissue, and he’s still shivering under three blankets.

When Buck shoves aside several identical pairs of white socks and sees the little box, he’s confused; almost a little panicked. This isn’t where he hid it. He could have sworn it was still in his locker at work. How did it get here? How did it get to the house, first of all, and how did it end up on Tommy’s side of their sock drawer? Oh god, did Tommy already see it? There goes the surprise.

And then Buck realizes that this is a different box than the one that houses the ring he bought for Tommy. It’s a different color, texture, and it’s from a different store. That means Tommy bought this. Tommy bought a ring. Tommy bought a ring.

Tommy wants to get married. Tommy wants to keep Buck forever. It’s not a surprise—they’ve talked about it, and Tommy has been more than clear that he’s in this relationship for the longhaul; more than clear that he’s deeply in love with Buck and their life together—but it makes Buck’s heart flutter just the same. Tommy is ready to make the commitment.

Buck must have been still and silent for too long, because Tommy raises his head from where he’d been buried under the covers and looks in Buck’s direction.

“Did you find them?” Tommy asks, his voice scratchy and stuffy.

There’s no point in pretending like he didn’t find the ring. This is all he’s going to be able to think about now, and he’s terrible at hiding his thoughts. Tommy would sniff it out in a moment, even this sick.

“Uh,” Buck says, a massive smile taking over his face. “I- I found something.” He holds up the little box.

Tommy looks confused for a moment and then his eyes go wide. “Oh. You weren’t supposed to- I had a plan.” His head hits the pillow with a groan.

Buck walks over to the bed, still smiling, and kneels on the floor by Tommy. “Oh, you had a plan, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy sighs. His frown is earnest and adorable. “Big romantic thing. Helicopter and a picnic at sunset. You were gonna love it.”

That does sound like something Buck would love. It’s thoughtful, sweet, intimate—fun. It’s so much better than anything Buck has been able to come up with. Buck has been making and scrapping plans for two months now because they weren’t perfect. Tommy’s plan was perfect.

Still, Buck can’t let Tommy think he was the only one ready for the next step. Who knows how long Tommy has had that ring. Has he been waiting for a sign that Buck was ready? He’s been so good about letting Buck set the pace of this relationship. This would have been the first step that Tommy asked Buck to take since their first kiss, first date. Buck wants Tommy to know he’s ready. They’re moving at the same pace, and Buck thinks that’s a beautiful thing. Well worth ruining the surprise over.

“And what if I told you I bought a ring too?” Buck bites his lip.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, his face lighting up. He tries to sit up but Buck stops him with a hand on his chest, rubbing it back and forth soothingly.

“Yeah. But I hid it somewhere you wouldn’t find it. Not in one of our shared spaces,” Buck teases. “Babe, I wear your clothes all the time.”

Tommy’s eyebrows pull together stubbornly. “Never my socks, though. You hate my socks.”

Buck has never said that out loud but it’s true. He’s a little overwhelmed by the casual intimacy that knowledge betrays. Tommy knows him so well. Tommy pays attention to him so well, and he seems happy to. It’s all Buck has ever wanted. Finally, Buck has the kind of love he’s spent his entire life searching for. He’s never been more sure that Tommy is it for him.

“I do,” Buck says. He sounds utterly besotted even to his own ears. “Your socks are terrible. The toe seams are too thick.”

“I’ve never once noticed the toe seam,” Tommy laughs, equally as besotted. Like the way Buck sees the world is charming and beautiful to him instead of frustrating and in need of correction.

“I have a hard time believing that.” Buck hands Tommy the ring box. “I’ll put this back and wait for your big romantic proposal if you want. The answer will be the same.”

Before he can respond, Tommy sneezes. Buck hands him a fresh tissue from the box on the nightstand. Tommy takes it and looks at Buck consideringly. He smiles fondly and shakes his head.

“No need to wait. Honestly, I think this might be more romantic.” Tommy gestures with the tissue. “In sickness and in health, right?”

The wet sound of him blowing his nose makes it very clear which side of that dichotomy he’s on at the moment.

“That’s right,” Buck smiles.

Tommy smiles back. He’s glassy-eyed and red-nosed, his hair is wild, and his stubble is scruffier than he usually lets it get. Still, in this moment, he’s the most handsome man Buck has ever seen.

Tommy’s hands shake a little as he opens the box. The ring is beautiful: simple gold, wide and rounded, understated and elegant. Timeless. It’s perfect.

“Evan Buckley,” Tommy starts, voice scratchy and congested. He gives Buck a pained look and sighs. “I had a whole speech planned for this, but my brain is so fucking foggy right now I can’t remember it all.” They both laugh. “But I know why I love you, so I’ll start there. You’re kind, and brave, and smart. You keep me on my toes and you make me laugh. You make me feel safe. I don’t think I’ve ever felt held the way I do with your arms around me. You love with your whole heart, and I feel so lucky that someone as incredible as you chose me. You’re the best partner anyone could ask for. Every day with you is better than the last. There were so many times over the years when we almost met that it’s kind of insane we didn’t, but I’m glad it took us so long. You know I don’t really believe in this stuff most of the time, but I think we met when we did for a reason. We weren’t ready for each other before that hurricane. But I’m ready for you now, and I hope you’re ready for me, too. I love you more than I could ever hope to put into words. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“Please,” Buck says breathlessly. Tommy’s laugh is filled with affection as Buck hurries to correct himself. “I- I mean of course, yes. Yes, I- I will marry you.”

The tears are coming now. Even through the brainfog that comes with a cold like this, Tommy was able to pull that off. If that wasn’t the rehearsed speech, Buck doesn’t think he would have survived the real one. It makes Buck’s general you flipped my life rightside-up and now I see the world in color and I’ll love you forever feel a little inadequate. He needs to organize his thoughts a little better before he can present them to Tommy.

“I- I have a speech too,” Buck assures him, “but it’s not ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Tommy says easily. He’s looking at Buck with such naked adoration that it makes Buck’s heart soar. “Neither of us were expecting this today. Give it to me when you give me my ring.”

Buck nods and sniffles. “I will.”

Tommy reaches for him. “Can I have your hand, sweetheart?”

Buck gives Tommy his hand and Tommy slides the ring onto his finger. It fits perfectly. It looks like it’s always been there.

Illness be damned, Buck has to kiss him. They’re long past the point of caring about getting each other’s germs. Tommy’s lips are chapped from days of breathing through his mouth, he tastes stale, and his skin is hot and clammy. It’s one of the best kisses Buck has ever had.

They pull back when Tommy needs to breathe. Buck doesn’t go far. He runs a hand through Tommy’s hair and just admires him. Even like this, he’s gorgeous. Buck is so lucky. This is the person who looked at Buck and saw him for who he is—who looked at Buck and saw Evan. This is the person who has had a front-row seat to all of his flaws and insecurities and bad habits and found something to love about all of them. This is the person who doesn’t love him anyway but loves him because—who loves his jealousy because it makes him feel wanted, loves his clinginess because it makes him feel held, loves his tendency to speak without thinking because it’s honest. This is the person who never makes him feel insecure about wanting or needing anything; about who he is. This is the person he’s going to spend the rest of his life with. His fiancé. His soon-to-be husband. His-

“Baby, can I please have my socks?” Tommy asks in a small voice.

“Oh!” Buck had gotten so sidetracked by the whole proposal thing that he forgot why he was looking through Tommy’s side of the sock drawer in the first place. Buck presses a quick kiss to Tommy’s forehead and jumps up. “Of course, I’m sorry.”

Buck goes back to their dresser. The wool socks are right on top. He doesn’t know how he missed them before. It feels like a sign, like he was supposed to find the ring first.

It feels like the universe saw how stressed he’s been about getting the proposal exactly perfect and decided this was the right way for them to get engaged. No big plans, no rehearsed speeches, no theatrics. Just love and care and the simple intimacy of this life they’ve made together: messy and raw and gross. It’s so imperfect that it’s kind of perfect. It’s them.

This is why none of Buck’s plans had felt right. He’d been so focused on making things perfect and exciting for Tommy that he’d lost sight of what really mattered. The strength of their relationship isn’t in the big, dramatic moments. Sure, they met during a hurricane, but they built their relationship in the quiet, imperfect, domestic moments as they learned how to take care of each other. Their relationship isn’t a fantasy: it’s reality. It works precisely because it’s imperfect and they both want it anyway—because they are imperfect and they both still want each other.

Buck puts the socks on Tommy’s feet for him, then he lays under the covers next to him. He pulls Tommy to snuggle into his chest. Tommy is still sniffly and clammy and, objectively, pretty disgusting. Buck pulls him closer.

Soon, Tommy drifts off. He snores in the loud, startling way he only does when he’s congested. Buck feels lucky to hear it. He runs his hand through Tommy’s hair and feels his ring catch on the strands. Happy, content, at ease; Buck settles in.

{give me kudos!}

[bunnys-kisses]

Your writing is so good! I hope this request is okay.

Could I please order some chocolate cake and shortbread squares please with some juice for Carlos sainz. Maybe friendly rivals. :))))

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of things to order from it! i really enjoy making these and i love what ya'll have prompted me! so thank you! and for this lovely anon i hope that you love this story!

chocolate cake ("do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day.") + shortbread squares ("you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match.") + juice (cockwarming) served by carlos sainz jr (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, cockwarming, (friendly) rivals, driver's room sex, semi-public sex, secret relationship, a lot of kissing

"you drive me crazy, mi amor." carlos said as he started to unzip his driving suit, your hands were on him in return. your lips were dangerously close together.

"please." you replied, "i don't think this is the hottest you've ran." you leaned in to seal the deal as he got the driving suit off of his shoulders. his lips tasted like heaven, he even used the lip balm that you suggested.

you and carlos were like thunder and lightning on the track. he had the speed while you had the power. and together you made quite the storm. some would call you rivals, but when it was the two of you alone in the driver's room long after everyone went home, you were more like lovers.

it was late into the evening, most had gone home. and you two were supposed to be in your respected motor homes for the night. but george and charles were doing you both favors while you two had some alone time in carlos' driver's room.

"i think he went out to dinner." charles shrugged when an assistant asked where carlos went.

and george's excuse was the tried and true method, "you know how she always walks for miles when she's on the phone with your mother." followed by a laugh. you owed both of these men so much.

the door to the driver's room was locked and you slowly got out of your driving clothes and could feel carlos' gaze on your body. you knew he loved the site of you, your curves that you had. you could easily drive him wild.

"don't look like a dog, sainz. have a little respect."

he shifted in his seat on the couch and palmed through his briefs. he licked his lips. he leaned a little bit and asked, "do you see that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

you watched him get his cock out of his briefs and relaxed further against the couch. his smile hung and you felt a stutter in your heart. you hated how he could read you inside out and backwards. damn, sainz. but yet you were enticed to come closer and eventually got onto his lap. the both of you near naked, at least your bottom halves were.

you even got yourself out of the printed socks you wore today. you were still in your sports bra while he was shirtless. you looked into his dark eyes and smiled at him, "see what happens when i think about you all day?" then smiled.

carlos palmed our breasts and pressed his face between them. he looked up at you with those doe eyes that could put deer to shame. he replied, "i can hear your heartbeat."

you combed your fingers through his hair as you rubbed your bare pussy against his cock. you swallowed, "i thought about you all day." you held his face and looked down at him, "i have to be honest. you make racing fun, my red rider." then with a little help you sank down onto his cock. your toes curled.

"shit."

"fuck."

"come here." you said as you pulled him in for anther heated kiss. you didn't ride him. due to the hour of the day (or rather night), you two could go slower. you could cockwarm him while your lips got familiar with his. you held his face once more and he wrapped his arms around you tightly. he gazed up at you almost with love and you smiled before you kissed once more.

you hated to admit it but, you liked cockwarming him. and if you could've been in the motor home together tonight without having to worry about being too loud for your teammates, you would've happily had the comfort of a shared bed.

at least there was the off-season. you had, without the prying eyes of the press, moved some of your belongings to his home. it was a spare lip gloss here, your spare retainer, there were a few more mercedes shirts in the closet. even a stuffed animal that carlos got you after you won your second gran prix (winning twice meant it wasn't a fluke).

"you feel good against me." he said with a smile.

"oh shut up, sainz." you arched your back a little bit as his cock nudged against one of your sweet spots and it made you feel hot all over.

he chuckled, warmth in his voice as he said, "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

you looked down at him and held onto his face a little tighter, "oh, i've seen your cock compared to some of the others. i think that maybe danny or max will suit me just fine." you moved your hips a little and watched carlos melt a little, "if i want something that doesn't bruise my cervix, maybe your teammate charles will a work.. or maybe my own teammate."

carlos made a face, "you better not be running off into george's arms. if you know what's good for you." then shuddered when you started to move a little more. he groaned against you. he knew that you'd have to cockwarm him again and sometime soon.

you two kissed while you continued to move against him. he held onto you tightly while you rode his cock. the kisses became messier the more you moved against him. it was hot and left a fire in your gut.

you both didn't last long, carlos' dirty words in your mouth as you rode him on the couch. he said to you, "next time. next time i'm keeping you on me all night. sleep together like that. i want to wake up and feel you." he said as he groped your breasts. you could feel your heartbeat in your chest as you reached your climax.

your toes curled once more as you panted heavily. you pulled him into another hot kiss. you whimpered into the kiss while he held onto you, meeting you staggered pace. he groaned into the kiss as he finished inside of you.

you both slowed down and you rested against him for a moment as you tried to catch your breath. he kissed the side of your head with love. you held onto his shoulders and composed yourself.

"next time, sainz." you said as you patted his chest, "we're doing this all night. and it'll be after i beat you on the track." that rival streak was coming out of you as you gazed at him.

he chuckled and looked at you, "sure, mi amor. now why don't we get dressed before someone tries to find us. our lie can't work forever." then kissed up your chest.

"yeah, george and charles have done enough for us tonight." you knew you'd get an earful from your teammate, but at that moment when you watched carlos redress. it was worth it. <3

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[99woez]

FEEL THE BASS THROUGH THE BATHROOM WALLS : PARK WONBIN.

warnings: smut + mentions of this being a toxic relationship. wc: 1.3k

The bathroom is dirty.

Wonbin drops to his knees quickly, staring up at you with those big brown eyes. His hands hesitantly lift to touch your thighs, but you swat them away, smirking down at him before running a hand through his long black hair. The roots are sweaty, most likely from the crowd of the concert raging inside the crowded venue you drug him to. Wonbin did whatever you wanted, did whatever you said, lived to please you, and you ate every second of it up. You dragged that boy around like a dog. So much so that your friends even began to comment on it.

“You should be nicer to him.”

“He’s really sweet…Maybe go easy on him?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to show him you actually like him.”

You did like Wonbin. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have kept him around for as long as you have. You smile down at him fondly, watching his eyes sparkle as they look up at you. You run your thumb over his plump bottom lip, dragging it down to see the pink flesh inside before letting it bounce back into place with a hum. 

“So pretty, baby. Were you having fun?” You coo at him, watching his head nod as his hands rise again to touch you. This time, you let him, feeling his palms rest against the the smooth skin of your thighs. His fingers press and knead into the soft skin, watching how your skin dips at the weight of his fingertips in wonder. He always looks in awe of you like you’re some angel that crashed into his life and enlightened him on how he should be living life.

Wonbin was a loser before he met you. He’s still kind of a loser, but at least he dresses better now.

You reach down to pull your skirt and underwear down your legs, exposing yourself under the dismal flicker of cheap fluorescent lighting. "Can you do something for me, Binnie?" Your words come out smooth as velvet, starkly contrasting your grimy surroundings. His gaze meets yours, ardent and unblinking, the slightest hint of uncertainty clouding his doe eyes.

The air in that dirty bathroom feels cloudy and tough to inhale. The smell of cheap beer and sweat clinging heavy in the air. It’s disgusting. It’s perfect.

You watch the nervous tick in his jaw, the way his eyes flicker back to the door every now and then, as though expecting it to burst open. But despite his fear, he stays. He stays for you. "Go on," you urge, a soft smirk playing on your lips, your hand guiding his head between your legs where you need him most.

You almost gasp at the first contact—almost—but you swallow it down. You're not here to give him power; you're here to take it from him. His movements are hesitant at first, unpracticed and unsure, but there's an eagerness there too—an eagerness to please—that stokes your ego more than anything. Wonbin has only belonged to you. You took his virginity a week after you two started dating. You rode him in the back of his car after he took you to see a movie he was excited about. It had something to do with space and aliens. You don’t remember the name of it, but you remember the pathetic sounds Wonbin made as you bounced on his cock so hard the car shook.

You like that memory. It always makes you smile.

You run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands with a soft moan when his nose bumps your clit. "Don't stop," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the screeching of guitars from outside. But he hears you—he always hears you—and picks up his pace obediently.

His hands tighten around your thighs—their trembling long since forgotten—and there's a newfound confidence in his movements. It's almost enough to make you proud. Almost.

A sharp intake of breath escapes your lips as Wonbin's tongue swirls around your clit, his hands tightening their grip on your thighs. You grin down at him and spread your legs wider, arching your back. His tongue darts out again, lapping at your folds, and you let out a low moan as you tighten your hold on his long hair. Your breath hitches when his fingers find their way inside of you, teasing you, massaging your soft walls by curling the tips of them up. You taught him that. Everything he knows is because of you. That fact alone makes you smile down at him, biting your bottom lip as you watch him desperately work to please you.

You know he's inexperienced, but you also know he's eager to learn and please you. His hand clenches and unclenches on your thighs as he tries to find the right rhythm, his head bobbing up and down between your legs with growing confidence. The wet, sloppy sound of his tongue against your folds blends in with the bass of the music coming from outside. His hair is a mess around his face, dark lashes sweeping against his cheeks as he focuses on pleasuring you. 

The smell of beer and sweat in the air intensifies as you hold onto the sink, your fingers gripping the marble tightly. It would be a lie to say that you're not enjoying this. The way he submits to you, the way he looks up at you with those big brown eyes full of adoration and desire, the way his tongue explores your cunt like he's found the Holy Grail. 

“Good boy…Such a good boy,” You coo as he moans softly against your core, pressing himself further between your legs. Your thighs cage his head in, locking in on the sides. You feel his nails dig into your thighs with another moan at the mild suffocation, watching as his eyes flick up to look at you pathetically. You hear him whine against you between the wet noises his mouth makes as he sucks and licks at your clit, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

You take deep yet shaky breaths the closer he brings you to the edge, the pleasure tingling throughout your body slowly but surely. Your head falls back against the mirror behind you, adding to the smudges already littering it. “That’s it,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his sweat-dammed black hair and holding it tightly. You feel the pleasure creep up your spine the harder he sucks at your clit, hearing the most obscene of noises leave his mouth as he desperately works you toward your orgasm. In times like this, it felt like all he lived for was pleasing you, probably because that is all Wonbin lived for now. 

He has no friends. He doesn’t talk to his family anymore. When he’s at work, he’s texting you. You consume his every waking thought exactly like you wanted. You not only consume his thoughts but his entire life. You’re his whole life just like you planned.

You tumble over the edge when he moans against you again, sending vibrations through your sensitive body. You moan out his name when you cum, your chest rising and falling with every labored breath you took. The short but intense ripples of pleasure rolling through you make your head spin. It’s numbing but electrifying. You can’t help but smile dumbly at the feeling, looking down at the boy still nestled between your legs, looking up at you with big, expectant eyes, waiting for your next instruction like he always did.

“Come here, baby,” You sigh, releasing your thighs from his head, letting him lift his head with a gasp of air before he scrambles to crash his lips to yours. He always loved to kiss you, chasing your lips the second you pulled away. You’re like a drug to him. His hands take your face into them, moaning quietly into your mouth as your hands jolt up to hold onto his biceps, digging your nails into the flesh.

[shalomniscient]

"this here seems to be a mighty tight spot we've found ourselves in, sweetheart."

your voice is about as dry as a bone as the woman currently above you pins you down with her thighs, a very pointy knife pressed to your throat. your snark affords you an amused crinkle of her teal eyes, and she leans down close to your face, enough so that her warm breath fans across your skin. strawberry, you think idly, same scent as her chapstick.

"poor detective, all alone," she coos, her tone a lilting tease you're all too familiar with. "should've come with backup."

"now where'd be the fun in that, darlin'? i got you all to myself like this," you reply with a purr, hands finding the plush of her thighs to squeeze almost affectionately. "i'm a little reckless when it comes to cases i'm highly interested in, you see."

"clearly," is all she says, before she drops the knife to instead kiss you silly. the tail binding your legs comes loose, instead slithering to curl around only one leg, almost like her version of a hug. you grin into the kiss, lazily indulging in the way her persona melts away against the warmth of your lips, and all that remains is jane--your jane. when she pulls back, a little breathlessly, you chuckle.

"looks like i still got it," you hum, and she rolls her eyes, shimmying down your body so you're no longer being pinned to the floor of the dusty apartment you've 'cornered' her in. you sit up, your hands finding her waist as she straddles your thighs. her tail leaves your leg to curl around your abdomen, a gentle pressure that has you exhaling a pleased sigh. "well, anyway. whaddaya got for me this time, darlin'?"

jane takes in your appearance for a brief moment; your messy hair, the bags under your eyes, the crinkle of your tie and the rumpled state of your shirt. she shakes her head with a huff, running a hand through the tousled strands in a vain attempt to smooth it out and make it somewhat presentable. your eyes flutter shut as she does so, and you listen as she starts to tell you about the latest update on the new posse of criminals she's infiltrated. to sum up, they're new and a little wet behind the ears, but have the tenacity to make up for it. it'll take a little more finesse to take them down, but the end is in sight.

done with her explanation, jane's fingers slip from the roots of your hair down to the line of your jaw as she tilts your head delicately towards her. you open your eyes, meeting soft teal, before she leans in for another kiss, which you gladly oblige. when she pulls away it's with a sigh, almost wistful, but then she squeaks when you tug her close again with the hand on her waist.

your eyes are half-lidded as they flicker down to her soft, perfect lips, her chapstick now in dire need of reapplication. jane's tail squeezes a little tighter around your waist in response, and close as she is, you can feel her heart rate jump ever so slightly. there's barely a breath of distance between you both, and you can see her in all her minutiae--the tremble of her breathing, the fullness of her pupils, the bob in her throat at your blatant staring. her ear flicks, a restless, involuntary motion you know crops up when she's needy and a smile tugs the corner of your mouth.

"jane," you breathe her name, almost reverent, and her fingers twitch against your nape. "you..." anticipation hangs thick in the air. you lean forward slightly, almost as if to kiss her--before instead slipping her knife that had been previously discarded on the floor back into the concealed sheath on her hip. "...wouldn't wanna--" the knife slides into place slowly, inch by inch, your grin only widening as it passes. "--forget this, would'ya?"

it sheathes fully with a click, and jane blinks, disoriented, her gaze snapping from her you, to her knife, then back to you, before she clambers off you with a huff. you laugh at that, pushing yourself to your feet and dusting off your coat, as she stands with her back turned to you, tail lashing. "sorry darlin', i couldn't resist," you coo, but jane only sniffs in response, so you gently grasp her lashing tail and reel yourself in until your front presses to her back. your lips ghost her shoulder in apology, your arms winding around her tiny waist to hold her close. "c'mon, sweetheart..."

you kiss her neck next, and jane folds with a low exhale, though when she turns her head there's a pout on her lips. you hum a little at the sight, resting your forehead against hers. "you're mean," she says, and you chuckle again, kissing the corner of her mouth.

"i'm very sorry, darlin'," you drawl again. "how 'bout i make it up to you with a real kiss, hm?"

jane immediately brightens at that, and you kiss her again with all the affection distance has accumulated. her lips slot home against yours, soft and pillowy and sweet, and you have to resist the urge to bite--because if you do, she's certainly not leaving for the next hour or so, and both of you are running on too tight of a schedule for that. she turns to hold you better, and when you pull apart for the last time, you speak your next words right against her lips.

"be safe," you whisper. i love you, you mean.

"you know i always am," she says. i love you too, she means.

and then you let her go, and all you're left with is the brief taste of strawberries on your lips, waiting until she comes back.

[ganondoodle]

okay i typed this in a reply but i need to say this more detailed here too, the way totk dealt with horses (and stables) is bad and worse than botw imo (yes i can rant about that too, these weird choices are in every little spot in totk, its almost impressive)

in a game that lets you build cars and stupid flying maschines, towers that shoot you into the stratosphere AND teleporting points all over the place, the chance is already low that you use a horse- though i would be one of them bc i love horses and hate building and didnt find it fun at all-

(also i almost never used any parts i had with me bc you cant put them back and your dumb vehicles despawn as soon as you dont look at them- also a negative thing about that system that reinforces the feeling of actually using it being more punishing than rewarding with the added bonus of the good ol saving your health potions forever problem)

-and something i DID like was that you can have more horses and the ... one.. new color (the lil spots but only AFTER you do that one quest in the spy post)

the stable points seemed like a neat idea, but like so many things, are utterly cheatable, imo the system should have only given you a point when you visit a new stable, so you actually have to go around and visit them all

(also .. add new stables, like mini ones or sth that dont offer beds- you dont need that anyway- so you have more places in which you can get them ... why did they remove some of them anyway, shouldn there be MORE now that the land is supposedly healing/being repaired? especially the one next to the big canyon, its so empty there it would have the perfect place for sth like a new settlement or a big boss arena but no its more empty than it was before, why?? and then putting yet another repeating annoying quest there in that weirld empty place?? i just dont get it)

letting you farm points by sleeping at a stable or bringing in a horse gives you LESS incentive to actually go around the world bc you can just farm it there

(and if that was done so youd 'discover' the malanya talks to you in your sleep 'secret' ... that is literally told to you, and if its bc you dont want to force players to go around and find every stable to get all those rewards ... why do you have 140 or whatver caves then with the majority of them being the literal same thing over and over ... to make people actually use the sleeping thing there? .. why, who uses that anyway, and farming points by sleeping there .. what the hell does that add? AND THEN the stupid sleep over tickets, probably the most nothign reward ever, dont count?? i dont think i ever used one- it just all doesnt make any sense, everything plays against each other)

the upgrading system for your horse is .. once again, a neat idea horribly executed, you have to go find malanya to upgrade them, and similarly stupidly like the fairies, they only tell you what food you need for what upgrade when you are there .. or when you are sleeping in the special tm bed at a stable, randomly, one food, bc the quantity changes too

which is just so ??????????? let me go and do a quest that rewards you with a lil booklet in which you can look up what an upgrade costs, or let the stables have that, either as a list or in the menu when selecting a horse or something?? (also why the hell is malanya in a different spot anyway, like, it feels like a modder just plopped them over there, their og spot is just empty now - except for yet again a stupid filler quest for .. another big horse and a yaaaaaaaaays crystal shrine quest- ... the spot is even still called spring of the horse god .... its so stupid, just like the fairy shuffling around, like you really couldnt think of a better way to reuse that concept other than to ... move it to a different spot in the same map and map level???? and not change anything in their og spot except idk, put a hole in the map ... for one of them like .. its like they moved them around last minute just to have the semblance of things being 'changed' with no regard what makes a change actually feel like one and what just feels like, pick up thing, click on random spot on map, drop thing- its like that for the fairies and shrines too, its so dumb and .. feels disrepectful to botw and how much thought seemed to have went into these spots that were clearly built about those things)

and like it couldnt get WORSE, they cut off the paths that horses follow automatically with one of those miasma buttholes (sorry its just a hole cut into the map, it doesnt even look like miasma burst through, it just .. cut out) a monster camp (that RESPAWNS, i thought those camps you clear with a quest would stay clear, but that would make sense, so of course it respawns and you can do the frame rate killer quest over and over yippieee) or otherwise like, with a big rock or a broken bridge-

and there is NO WAY to create a new path or fix or move anything in a game ABOUT BUILDING supposedly, like you needed more reasons to never use a horse????? i liked jsut hopping on and letting them follow a path and chill looking at the landscape, you cant do this here, and you cant even excuse it with 'its bc of the theme' as in, stuff is destroyed bc calamity 1.5 or whatever bc nothing in the game makes it feel like theres anything actually at stake, but the real crime is to make it not be fixable. WHY??? link moves entire buildings with ease but cant move one freaking rock that fell into a river?????? you swing around logs like a club but cant fix a bridge so your horse can get over it??????????????????????????????

[kiame-sama]

Can we get Headcannons for the next three Monster guys you've drawn for your Monster AU? (Vil, Rook, and Leona look so cool)

Ask and ye shall receive (so long as my ADHD riddled brain plays nicely).

Warnings: yandere behavior, yanderes, my monster AU, Humans Are Extinct TWST AU, Drider Rook, Harpy Vil, Nemean Lion Leona, stalking, web building, venom, display dances, mention of Humans being food,

- Rook's spider fur is extremely soft and comfortable to the touch. Vil makes Rook deep condition the fluff which has resulted in it being softer than kitten fur and Rook is extremely proud about this fact, especially whenever his darling Human pets the fur. Where he would have teased them for their act of petting his spider body, he is enjoying the gentle affection far too much to make a sassy comment.

- Rook is a Drider and will often spin webs in various locations so he can watch others mostly undisturbed. He never uses his webs to hunt because that just removes the fun from hunting for him. Usually his webs are clear or a very faint white, but Vil can still see them with ease and will often berate Rook for yet another web on the Pomefiore ballroom ceiling. Sometimes Rook is so busy building his web he doesn't even realize he has been caught before Vil nails him in the head with the heel of his shoe.

- Rook sleeps either face down or on his back given he has to accommodate the spider body. He can lay forward over his fangs and when he sleeps like that, he leaves his legs splayed out in whatever direction feels the most comfortable. When Rook sleeps on his back, the spider legs curl up like many spiders do when they die. Sleeping on his back has frightened Vil once or twice as the Harpy is not keen to lose his best friend and the curled legs make it look like Rook has died.

- Rook is venomous and Vil will frequently use Rook's venom in his various potions and poisons. He often gathers his own silk and milks his venom for Vil to use as he sees fit. In Rook's mind, anything he can do to aid his Roi du Poison is worth the struggle and hassle of collecting. Rook likes that he can assist the Harpy with his venom and he thinks the clothes the Harpy makes out of his silk is nothing short of divine. It would drive Rook into a state of pure euphoria to see his Human dressed in clothes made from his personal spider silk.

- Rook is fascinated by his Human's hands and feet, as most species don't have Humanoid feet the way his Human does. He himself has spider paws with small claws on the ends of them for web walking and clinging purposes, so the delicate feet of a human are just adorable to him. Rook will offer to paint his Human's nails just so he can hold and marvel over their hands and feet without coming across as extremely weird or unusual given his fascination with them. (Most think he is still weird as hell for this, but he is shameless in his interests)

- Rook has built a web on the ceiling of Ramshackle's common area and has yet to be caught any time he is occupying that web. Most of the time he is just silently observing his little Human bustle around and go about their daily life, smiling whenever they do something particularly cute. Naturally, Rook thinks that almost everything they do is cute so he will be smiling rather wistfully as he watches them move around, oblivious to the monster that is observing their every move. He will try to flee or conceal himself if it ever seems like his Human is going to look up, wanting to continue this act of stalking the endangered species without his Human realizing it.

- Vil is extremely proud of his feathers- wing feathers, crown feathers, tail feathers, ect- to the point he takes long hours out of his time just to preen them to perfection. Given he is so serious about making his feathers look perfect, he is very selective for who he decides to display them for. Vil has gone as far as refusing to display on command for movies he has acted in, meaning the few times he does give his feathers a shake, he means it whole heartedly. He will display and even begin to dance to gain the attention of the few he feels are worth showing off for, his Human taking first place on his list of those he will actually display his train feathers for.

- Vil refuses to let anyone see him or get near him while he is molting. The only one who he will allow into his room is Rook as the Drider has always been a good friend and support for the prideful peacock. He will gather up the shed feathers and will even gift the prettier ones to those he cares about- his Human and Rook, primarily- or he will use them in his next ensemble. He needs to look pristine and even one feather missing is a tragedy to him. His crown feathers are the only ones he will flat out cry over when he sheds them and he is very particular about having only seven of them as his own way to honor and respect The Seven founders of NRC.

- Vil's wings and feathers keep him nice and warm so he typically doesn't need to wear jackets or coats even on snowy days. He is actually very fond of snow as the white background is perfect for him to show his many colors off even when he isn't trying. He can use his wings as blankets due to the insulation they provide and will be so bold as to wrap his Human in his wings should he ever witness them shiver.

- He is an extremely proud Harpy- more so than most due to his peacock lineage- and he doesn't really care who knows it. Those he tends to be in conflict with are other Harpies- especially the mourning dove Harpy Neige- and those with strong personalities- such as Leona- due to his prideful nature. Neige is actually very fond of Vil but Vil despises the drab mourning dove and will go out of his way to oil his feathers and give them that shine that overshadows the boring grays and browns of Neige's feathers. Vil would come completely unglued if his Human ever showed the other Harpy preferential treatment or affection in his presence.

- Vil is either extremely gentle or harsh when it comes to his favorites and will not pull any punches when it comes to making them improve themselves. He is not above throwing things, slinging insults, and generally being unkind in order to push others to be a better version of themselves. The only one he isn't overly rough towards is his Human because he likes the fact his Human is weaker than him and it gives him a huge stroke to his pride to know he is in a position of power over them.

- Vil will fight and get messy when it comes to others trying to win over HIS Human. Not only is he a brilliant mage but his physical ability in a fight is nothing to scoff at either. Graceful practiced moves and poses almost make him look like he is dancing while he fights and it absolutely pleases him if his Human is watching the fight. Can't you see how perfect he is? He is not only soundly beating his enemies but he is so beautiful while doing it, there is no question he wouldn't be the most ideal mate for anyone to possibly have. Praise him after a fight, he will display his feathers and dance for you.

- Leona comes from a Kingdom that suffers every day from the actions of their ancestors. Sunset Savana is a large Kingdom but it is also colloquially known as the Kingdom of Savages due to the rather large Human meat market that drove Humans to extinction. Most other sentient species adored Humans, so the crimes of Sunset Savana have put a clear strain on the goodwill of these other species and other Kingdoms in regards to allying themselves with them. Leona in particular has been a thorn in the Kingdom's side due to his natural aggression and dislike for how others treat him. Falena has been one of the few Kings to start pulling Sunset Savana away from the 'Kingdom of Savages' title but Leona has rarely made a similar attempt.

- In many ways, Leona both adores and resents the little Human he now has to deal with. He resents that such a weak species dying out still has a negative impact on his Kingdom, but he also sees how good this Human can be for the Kingdom as a whole. He has considered telling Falena there is a Human in NRC, wondering if getting that Human on his side and in the Sunset Savana Kingdom would make other Kingdoms/Queendoms change their view of the Savage Kingdom. It would be a genuine Godsend for either Leona or Falena to befriend this Human as it would help the Kingdom prove they are not as savage as the others view them. Though Sunset Savana is in no way a starving Kingdom, there is still the clear resentment others treat them with- Fae ruled Kingdoms/Queendoms especially given the long lives and even longer memories of the Fae- and bringing a Human safely into the Kingdom could help break down those societal walls for generations to come.

- Leona will be gruff and have a poor attitude in an attempt to scare his little Human away, knowing that few others would ever trust him to be alone with the soft species. He doesn't like the fear his Human has when he does this aggressive act and it does lead to him being particularly gentle towards the soft Human- especially if the Human is female gendered- when he realizes how much he hates the fear they attribute to him. From making himself be a pillow to covering his Human with his scent, he will try to make up for his aggression and behavior so that Human doesn't resent him. Where Leona will be patient with those younger than him- an adult Lion has no need to harm cubs, even if they are annoying as hell- he will extend that unusual patience and even temper to his Human.

- Leona is 'King' of Savanaclaw and will ensure his subjects don't lay a single fang, claw, or paw on the soft Human because he knows how the other species will react to such an act. He even threatens the other Savanaclaw students so effectively that most will flee upon any physical contact or close proximity with the Human in question despite their usual readiness to fight others. Ruggie does not heed these warnings- despite being a Gnoll- and Leona is actually somewhat pleased the quick to submit Hyena-man has managed to extend an olive-branch of peace to the Human. He won't be thrilled Ruggie is so close with the Human when Leona would rather be in his place, but he will take the offered boon of befriending the Human through Ruggie.

[writeriguess]

katsuki x reader where she makes him act out a scene from a book, like: the character peaned against a door frame or wtv?

The quiet evening had a comfortable air to it as you sat cross-legged on the couch, book in hand, fully engrossed in its pages. You couldn’t help but smile as you read through one of your favorite scenes—a powerful character leaning against a doorframe, watching their love interest with a soft yet intense gaze.

You glanced up from the book and smirked. Katsuki was in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge, looking for something to eat. A mischievous idea sparked in your mind.

“Katsuki,” you called out, voice light but teasing.

He glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow. “What?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress your grin. “Can you do something for me?”

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, closing the fridge. “What is it?”

You held up the book, shaking it slightly. “I need you to act out a scene with me.”

Katsuki blinked, crossing his arms. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come on,” you whined playfully, “just this one thing. It'll be fun!”

He scowled, clearly not convinced. “I don’t act. That’s for extras.”

“Just lean against the doorframe like this character does,” you explained, setting the book down. “Please? Just once. For me.”

His scowl deepened as he moved to stand in front of you. “Why the hell would I lean against a door like some weak-ass character from your book?”

You pouted, giving him your best pleading look. “Because I wanna see what you’d look like doing it.”

He rolled his eyes, but you noticed the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his cheeks. “Fine, whatever,” he grumbled, turning toward the doorframe near the living room.

You watched with bated breath as he walked over, positioning himself against the frame. He leaned one shoulder against it, crossing his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed but still radiating his usual confidence. His sharp gaze locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the book had come to life.

“You mean like this?” he asked, voice gruff but quieter than usual.

You blinked, heart skipping a beat as he completely embodied the scene you had imagined. His intense stare sent warmth flooding through you, and you couldn’t help but admire how perfect he looked—leaning there, effortlessly cool and powerful.

“Yes…” you whispered, your voice a little breathless. “Just like that.”

Katsuki shifted slightly, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smirk. “You happy now?”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks warm. “Very.”

He pushed off the doorframe and sauntered over, towering above you. “Next time, pick a scene where I get to blow something up.”

You laughed softly, your heart fluttering as he ruffled your hair. “Deal.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it, you knew he secretly enjoyed playing along with your little fantasies, even if he’d grumble about it the whole time. And as for you, well, you’d definitely be picking more scenes like that for him to act out.

Requests are open. Send as many as you like.

[cemeteryvalentine]

astro observations part 4 !!! ^____^

(specifically based off my family :3 pleaseee don't get offended at anything that doesn't resonate)

🗝️: one thing about a sag placement, they are gonna hang up FIRST !!! i swear, if anyone misses flip phones, it's a sag placement/dominant. i just know they miss snapping that phone shut in a petty manner LOL. my mom is a sag moon AND rising, and she'd call me and demand me to do something in such a bitchy tone and then hang up on me like girl who tf do u think u areee 😭😭😭😭 LMFAO. but honestly good for her, i love being petty like her.

like i swear i take after my mom because everytime she does that annoying hang up before i can respond thing, i call her again just to say a snarky remark, and hang up on her back!

🐇: i swear, virgo placements have no problem being the grossest people alive, but suddenly it's a problem when someone else does it :/// it's really annoying. my brother has a pigsty of a bedroom, doesn't wash his hand when he pisses unless i make him, and leaves his trash everywhere, but constantly gets on my sister for the same things 😭. like the calls coming from inside the house !!! i think basically, (some) virgos are like picky(?) with what areas they'd want clean. like they're only really comfortable with THEIR mess and no one else's.

🗝️: i love how pisces mercury communicate because it's like what the hel are u awn about 😭 in the NICEST way though :3 they're so kewl and interesting to talk to, plus they're so nice and understanding. maybe because they're water mercuries after all. speaking of, my favorite artist ever kurt cobain was a pisces mercury and it SHOWSSS. a lot of nirvana lyrics feel artistic and metaphoric, or just realllyyyy silly. liiike "angel left wing, right wing, broken wing. lack of iron and or sleeping" from milk it, one of my nirvana faves. and "i vomit C*M and DIARRHEA". like girl whatever that means !!!! (song, mexican seafood)

🐇: mars influence on the asc makes for prominent features. especially eyebrows. my brother has an aries rising and he has such a bad case of RBF. i swear he never looks happy 😭 his virgo sun and cap moon definitely don't help at all either. then im a mars rising and i have big eyebrows like my brother. like we're the only ones with big eyebrows, while our parents brows look invisible LOL. also i'm a virgo rising !! and ppl are always saying i look mad which honestly pisses me off :P so in conclusion, mars influence + virgo placements = major rbf

🗝️: i HATE to add on to the cancer hate train since i'm one myself and i loveee being one + we get soo much hate, but i feel a (unevolvled) cancer makes for the worst pick me girl ever !!!! this def doesn't apply to all cancers, but the few cancer women i know can be so mean to other women so unprovoked. especially my mom, it gives me the ick when she calls random women b*tches or makes fun of them to me for their features or success or soemthing. i used to be a pick me too up until i was like 13 (im soooo happy i grew out of that mess QUICK!). i would constantly strive for male attention, it was embarrassing 😭. ik another girl who values her shitty boyfriend over her (girl) friends and i haaate it. like ive only known a few cancer women, but a lot of them are like the meanest pick me bitch ever, or such a sweeet, caring soul :). i feel like being a pick me stems from cancers being feminine AND traditional. yk? i pray i make sense, but yk how it's traditional for girls to be perfect for her man, and value him no matter the circumstance ?? and cancer/moon being **traditional** ? yeahhh 😭

anywayzzz that's all :3 tyyy for reading !! i had sm making a new observations, considering it's been a year since my last LMFAOO. and again, if it doesn't apply, let it fly. ty bye ^__^

[harksness]

No Going Back

Summary: An incurable illness plagues you, something one of a kind that has never been seen before. It corrupts magic, leaving you unable to use your powers without risking death or worse. Someone wants all of your unused power themselves, and a reluctant Agatha Harkness is convinced to keep you safe after some bribing.

A/N: aaa I've had the idea for this for like 2yrs now!!! I'm super excited to be finishing it and posting it finally!! It's my first in depth, planned fanfic and I'm super excited to share it I hope you guys like it <3

(Also lowk paranoid that some of the creative decisions I made for this fic are gonna end up being explained in the show so just nevermind that if it happens we're just here for some fun romance and smut with Agatha ok)

WC: 3k

Anxiety gnaws away at your insides as you flick on your blinker, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel as you turn down that familiar dirt road that you hate so much. That long, winding dirt road that also leads to the house that you hate so much.

You try the breathing exercises your therapist taught you. The slow, calculated inhales, the holding your breath, and slow calculated exhales, but it does nothing to relieve the feeling in your chest that’s suffocating you. 

The cars headlights cut through the darkness, thick layers of tall, old trees swarming each side of the road as their branches bow overhead. You can’t even see the night sky through the thick layers of leaves.

You’re positive that if you had consulted your therapist about this little visit before coming, she would have told you that it’s not a good idea. That reopening old wounds after basically being no contact for four years would undo a lot of healing and hard work. 

But, when you listened to your fathers urgent voicemail, you knew you needed to come. You had no choice. The deal you made with him before leaving was more than fair. He agreed to leave you alone and only contact you if it was a necessary emergency. And you agreed to that more than fair deal.

He wanted you to be as far away from him as possible, and you wanted the same thing. To be far, far away from him and any reminders of what happened to you, your childhood and the toxic magical community you grew up in.

You’re sure that you were only able to get away because of your little defect. And because after your mother died, he immediately remarried and your father didn’t waste time popping out plenty of new babies, pureblooded heirs that could flawlessly wield their old blood magic unlike you.

If your father called you back home you know it’s a serious, urgent matter. And that only makes your chest grow tighter as you turn the last bend and your childhood home comes into view.

“Well.. Here we go..”

You grumble to yourself, the tall, menacing house looming over you amongst all of the trees. The night sky actually cuts through these parts, the moonglow illuminating the house and its surroundings as you pull up to the front door. Immediately you kill the engine and shift your car into park, leaning forward to peer up at the house.

The pristine white under the moonlight makes it look like it’s glowing. It stands tall and proud and perfect, no chipping or dirt in sight. A black roof sits on top, perfectly black framed windows spread along the sides of the house, and not a single one is lit up with evidence of life. Curiously, you keep peering, checking for a sign of anyone being in the house. With a deep breath you grab your keys and your bag and exit the car.

It’s dead silent, save for the sound of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the trees when a soft breeze blows through. You pause as you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Cautiously, you walk around to the other side of the house, leaning over and peering just enough to see if any lights were turned on. 

Nope. Nothing. All of the windows are black as pitch. You groan, pinching your eyes shut as you try to soothe yourself by rubbing your fingers on your forehead.

Whatever. You’ll just go inside and call your father. You’d be dead meat if you left without his permission, anyways. He sounded very urgent. Deathly urgent. With a deep exhale pushing past your lips, you walk back around the house, the wind chilling your cheeks as you start to make your way up the front steps. 

No door handle, just a block of smooth painted wood that looks like a door. A wave of exhaustion overtakes you as you press your palm to the smooth center of the wood, your features dropping as an electric blue glow flows in ripples over the door before it parts for you, splitting down the middle and swinging open.

The main hall is eerily dark and you have to force yourself to move forward. The moonlight is bright enough to where you can see, but everything is shadowed. The hall stretches out far, down the length of the entire house before leading to the wide, open stairs that would take you up to the expansive second level. 

A hard, loud slam echoes through the halls and shakes the house. It’s enough for you to let out a scream and jump as you fling yourself around to the source of the noise, noticing the front doors are sealed closed. Your face scrunches in confusion at the sight. It should just.. Close like a normal door as soon as you are comfortably in the threshold of the house. Never have you seen it linger or slam like that before, not even in your years growing up here.

You sigh, deciding to brush it off even though you know something is wrong, more so because you know that you’re incapable of protecting yourself like a normal witch would be able to so gaslighting yourself is just the easier option for now.

Besides, whatever’s wrong can’t be life endangering to you. The property is warded and safe, it’s basically impossible to get through to the house let alone inside of it. Hundreds of years of magical wards and barriers make sure of that. So, you grab your phone out of your coat pocket, your fingers cold as you pull up your fathers contact and press the call button.

You raise the phone to your ear as the sound of the monotonous chimes ring through the silent rooms as you pass through them, cautiously walking into the family room. The sound of your boots is muffled by the thick carpet as you walk over it to peer out of the window. The wind rushes against the side of the house, the echo of the noise whispering through the silent halls of your childhood home.

“Okay, I’m at the house. What’s going on and where are you? Please… Just call me back.”

Lowering the phone with a tense sigh, you drop it back into your coat pocket before turning back to the window. You decide to analyze the treeline for any sign of something being off, and you see something that makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.

One of the protective runes carved into one of the trees has been singed off. You can tell by the sizzling burn marks that it was magic, the bark of the tree burned all the way through and to the wood underneath, leaving no sign of the runes that were previously there. Your throat dries up.

Whoever did that had to have broken through two other protective barriers on the property. It’s tough magic and in order to break through it… You’d need some scarily powerful magic on your side.

There’s only been a few times over the decades since the house was built that someone has been able to break through the protective barriers. The last time was when your mother was assassinated and you were left for dead when you were a child.

You can’t stop the panic from bubbling in your chest this time, not knowing what to do or how to protect yourself. Your mind is frantic as you search for a solution, your hand moving to fist the pendant hanging from your neck, but something catches your eye and you freeze. In the reflection of the window you see her, a woman reclining in your fathers favorite chair. The back of the extravagant, plush red chair reaches high, the woman is slumped down in it, her black heeled boots dangling over one armrest of the chair as she gently swings her feet back and forth, the fabric of her purple skirt swaying with each movement.

Her body is twisted just a bit so that her front is tilted towards you, her chin resting in her palm. She’s donning a very traditionally witchy getup. Her wild, brown curls fall off of her head in crazy waves as it cascades over her shoulders. Her lips are quirked in the snarkiest smirk you’ve ever seen, your chest tightening even further when you notice her bright blue eyes are planted right on you. 

You whip around to face her, your eyes widening when you see her with your own two eyes and not in the window's reflection, confirming this is real and not a figment of your imagination.

“Oh my goodness! It took you long enough to notice me! If this were a horror movie, or if I actually wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead the second those doors slammed shut, sweetheart.”

The woman's smooth voice has a taunting edge to it. She swings her feet over and around and they land against the carpet with a dramatic thump! before she pushes herself out of the chair and onto her feet.

“Thank god I don’t want to kill you.”

Her smirk drops into a warning smile, her voice doing the same. You’re gripping your pendant so tightly that you can feel it cutting into the skin of your palm.

“What do you mean? What do you want?”

You ask, your voice shaky and soft. She drops her gaze to your fist, pointing at it.

“That’s what I want.”

Her eyes meet yours again as she takes a few steps towards you. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and give it to me? Or do I have to take it from you?”

She holds out her hand, and that’s when your gaze catches on the pendant on her neck. Your eyes widen in horror, taking a slow step backwards.

Every witch knows about Agatha Harkness. About her long list of crimes, both magical and not. Especially those of you connected to the elder families. She’s successfully stolen from some, even killed a few. She was a suspect in your mothers murder and your assault, but was ruled out for having been out of the country at the time.

“Why do you want it?”

You stutter through the sentence, trying to distract her for a moment as you mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to do. You just keep hoping, praying to whatever god is listening, that you can get your magic to work right just this once.

“Stop stalling, honey.. You know exactly why I want it.”

You take her words as your signal to call on your magic, and it appears in a sickly blue-ish yellow glow, enveloping you as you feel it wash over you, turning you invisible. You start cursing internally, knowing your magic won’t last long enough to keep you safe. But you have to try something. 

You don’t know what to do. Just run to your car, which probably won’t work, hide, which also probably won’t work, or somehow try to distract her which is your best bet but also probably won’t work.

So, you start booking it down the hall, the hard thumps of your feet on wood rattling through the old house as you dart for the stairs. Your fingers wrap around the bannister and you start running up the steps, taking them two steps at a time as you desperately search your mind for a good place to hide. 

“It’s funny you think you can hide, sweetheart.”

Agatha calls after you, and you can already hear her making her way up the stairs. She’s taking her time as she follows after you. You bolt down the hall, finding your old bedroom. When you throw open the door you’re not surprised to see that they renovated it, it seems to be an art studio for your step mother now.

You step back into the hallway, remaining invisible as you quietly move out of the way. Agatha is making her way down the hall, her robes and long hair flowing dramatically behind her as she approaches the door you flung open.

“Oh, come on.. Just make this easier for the both of us and come on out.”

She laughs as she sticks her head into the room, surveying it. She must be suspicious that you’re not actually in there. You take the opportunity to do something you’ve never tried before, something stupid that could kill you- and you call on your magic.

You raise your hand, closing your eyes as you carefully begin to draw your power from the pendant around your neck. It’s unstable in its pure form like this, your anxiety bubbling in your chest as you draw it into your hand, feeling it crackle and pop like a fire. You feel the invisibility spell wash off of you like water, your fingers flicking backwards in time with the powerful bursts of magic.

You build the magic steadily, higher and higher as you wait for her to turn around.

When she finally does, you twist your arms, using all of your strength to fling the yellow-blue ball of magic right into the woman. She flies backwards, and you hear the crashing noises as she falls right into all of the easels and canvases.

Peering through the door, you see her in a clump on the floor with the broken and tattered art supplies. She blows a long piece of thick brown hair that hand landed in her face out of the way with a dramatic puff of her lips.

“I thought you couldn’t use magic..”

Agatha grumbles as she climbs to her feet, dusting herself off. She pauses, an uneasy look overtaking her face.

“What.. What was that?”

She groans, wrapping her arms around her stomach where your magic had landed. You let out a breathy, surprised laugh. 

“What did you do to me!? I thought you couldn't use magic!”

Agatha yells at you, rage seeping through her voice as it booms in the halls of the house. Fear grips you again as you straighten up, not bothering to give her an explanation.

She groans out in pain behind you, and you start running. Your feet heavy thumps as you book it down the hall, thinking you finally got a chance.

Not only does she need to realize what's happening to her, she needs to purge it from her body. Someone that powerful shouldn't have an issue dealing with it, but fighting it out should stall just long enough for you to get away.

Or so you thought.

Something hits you so hard that you fall to the ground, landing roughly on your right arm. The force of your body hitting the hard wood beneath you causes your head to snap against the floor too, a loud yelp of pain pushing out of your throat as pain shoots in hot flashes across your skull and down your arm.

A few seconds later you’re blinking dumbly as you try to regain your senses, your head ringing and vision blurry from your hard fall. Your eyes roll in your head, a groggy groan escaping your lips as you desperately try to pick yourself off the ground.

Your right arm is stuck. Shoulder to hand, as if it’s superglued to the wood beneath you. Desperately you pull on your arm, trying to sit up to no avail as you hear the woman approaching you from behind.

You’re basically a bug that walked into a sticky trap, helpless as you watch your impending demise approach you. You turn your head to the sound of boots on the wooden floor, seeing Agatha sauntering towards you, purple skirt swaying around the ankles of her black boots. You’re just barely able to make out a coherent thought through all of the pain and fog clouding your mind- you’re fucked.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, your head throbbing in time with every beat as the woman crouches down before you. You’re unable to focus on her features, desperately wincing and pinching your eyes shut to try and get rid of the pain. Her fingers wrap around your jaw, biting softly into your cheeks as she focuses your lolling head on her gaze.

“I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean for you to hit the ground that hard. Don’t wanna risk damaging that pretty face, hm?”

You blink rapidly as she starts to come into focus. You try to gargle out a response, but find yourself unable to as pain shoots through your skull. She coos at you with wide eyes, raising her free hand to run softly over the top of your head.

“At the very least, there’s gonna be a bump. At the very most, a concussion.. I really am sorry, but I needed this-”

Her hand is reaching towards your neck. Panic spikes in your chest when you realize she’s going to grab your necklace.

“N-no!”

You force the word past your lips in a desperate stutter, your voice echoing through the long hall so loudly that it surprises you. The witch before you even seems a bit taken off guard, curling her fingers back as she retreats her hand only slightly.

“What’s wrong with your magic..”

She asks, her voice soft and firm as her eyes narrow at you in curiosity. Panic is bubbling in your chest, rising in your throat.

“I don’t know.”

You whisper in return, before that all too familiar flash of blue-yellow magic lights up between the two of you. Agatha raises her hands, manifesting a wide, purple shield the exact moment your unstable magic collides with it. A loud noise sounds right when it collides with hers, shaking the house and echoing loudly in your ears. Your head flies in the opposite direction at the force, smacking against the floor once again as your vision goes black.

[the-way-astray]

keefe has never gaslit or extorted anyone ever . manipulate MAYBE and i ONLY say that because katie knows all but i draw a line at extortion you arae wrong

hi, anon! those are some opinions you got there! obviously, it seems you've made up your mind, so my goal isn't to change your opinion, but rather to defend my side. i believe gaslighting is actually a form of manipulation, and you've already acknowledged that keefe could be manipulative, so i'm not really going to talk about that. however, it seems you feel very strongly about the extortion thing, so let's chat.

keefe's threats don't tend to come off as threats, because he's usually camouflaging them as something else, but the force (his use of empathy) is blatantly obvious. here are some examples (copy-pasting from my rant, only the stuff in the [brackets] is new):

(note: these are all out of order and i'm tired so i'm not citing shit. i may or may not change that later. point is, there is evidence in the text that proves that keefe is an extortive little shit, which is what i'm trying to prove.)

“Keefe nudged Dex’s arm, then grinned at Sophie. ‘Interesting.’ ‘What?’ Dex asked. ‘Which one’s your gift, Dex?’ Sophie interrupted. She didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what Keefe was going to tease Dex about.” Here we mark the start of Keefe using his empathy to learn people’s secrets without their consent. He feels not a hint of remorse for it, and instead uses it as a way to breach people’s boundaries and embarrass them. As a lot of people have already said, Keefe is the primary reason empathy should have similar restrictions on it to telepathy. [He obtained something (Dex's feelings, without permission, for no other reason than he wanted to) through force (his use of empathy).]

“He reached out and brushed Grady’s arm. ‘Whoa—that is some serious tension radiating off of you. Is it that bad?’” Again, here we see an example of Keefe breaching boundaries and using his ability to get people to tell him things they aren’t comfortable telling him. If Keefe was a Telepath, this would be breaking the law. In case you care. [Same thing as above.]

“Keefe grabbed Fitz’s wrist and pressed his fingers against the exposed skin. ‘Hate to break it to you, but I can tell you’re hiding something.’” (26) Another example of Keefe breaching personal boundaries and using his empathy to extort secrets out of people to get him to tell things they wouldn’t ordinarily tell him. This happens a lot starting in this book, and yes, I am going to point them all out. By the way, what Fitz was hiding was not at all important to their mission. It’s a secret of Sophie’s that Fitz accidentally saw and was forced to tell because of Keefe. And Keefe tries to make fun of Sophie for it, but is cut off. [Same as above.]

“Keefe spotted the crush cuffs about ten seconds after he got to Havenfield the next morning—despite the long-sleeved tunic Sophie had worn to keep them covered. And he dragged out the rest of the story with a relentless bombardment of questions.” Can Keefe keep his nose out of Sophie’s personal business for even a minute??? The “dragged” here is very telling: Sophie would not have chosen to tell Keefe all this of her own free will. He bombards her with questions, and so she tells him, not because she wants to, but because she knows that he won’t shut up until he has the full story. This is Sophie’s secret. Sophie’s business (and Dex’s). Keefe has no right to ask about the cuffs at all. The fact that he “retelentless[ly]” asked her questions until she was forced to tell him the entire story is not a good thing. It does not demonstrate trust, but quite the opposite: a breach of personal boundaries. Keefe is so toxic, I honestly find it impressive how Shannon has twisted him into a seemingly perfect-angel love interest. [He obtains something (what happened between Sophie and Dex) through force (his questions, which are specifically described using the words "dragged" and "relentless", as I stated).]

“She could feel him reaching for her glove—and yanked her hand away.” Keefe tries to breach Sophie’s boundaries. But what else is new. [Once again, he tries to extort, yes, extort, Sophie's feelings out of her. He isn't successful, but hopefully this proves that Sophie is not a willing participant here.]

“He traced his thumb over the sliver of skin between her glove and the edge of her beaded sleeve. ‘There’s something you’re not saying right now. I can feel it.’” (12) Keefe once again breaches boundaries because he can’t keep his nose out of other people’s personal feelings. He has no right to just help himself to Sophie’s emotions like that. It’s a massive breach of boundaries, and then using that to try to pry the secret out of her is nothing short of repulsive behavior. [He obtains something (Sophie's feelings, specifically the feeling of "she's not saying something", which he states) through force (his empathy).]

“Keefe snatched Fitz’s wrist. ‘I knew it!’ ‘Knew what?’ Fitz shouted, trying to wrench his arm away. Keefe tightened his grip. ‘Shhhhh, let the Empath work.’” (367) Oh, boy. Keefe really is such a manipulative asshole. He grabs Fitz’s hand to read his emotions because he wants to know why Fitz is offering to search his dad’s memories. He really can’t respect his supposed best friend’s privacy, can he? He can’t control himself; when he wants to know something he needs to have it right away. He breaches people’s trust and boundaries. Fitz tries to “wrench his arm away”, meaning that he’s uncomfortable and clearly doesn’t want this. But Keefe instead tightens his grip and forcibly extricates what he wants out of Fitz, even having the audacity to say “let the Empath work”. What an asshole. Honestly. He’s such a piece of shit. He’s a terrible person and the fact that Shannon is romanticizing this behavior is revolting. [He once again obtains something (Fitz's feelings, and from that the fact that he's trying to go after Alvar) through force (very literal here, he uses not only his empathy, but also his physical strength to keep Fitz from wrenching away).]

“‘Okay, two choices,’ Keefe told her, standing up and tilting her chin toward him. ‘You can tell me what’s wrong. Or I can put my Empath powers to work—but keep in mind, Option B will likely pick up on all kinds of other feelings.’ Sophie gave him her surliest scowl, but he didn’t back down.” First of all, here’s another example of Keefe touching Sophie’s face creepily. Secondly, Keefe just extorted Sophie’s personal feelings out of her. He just threatened to use his empathy on her if she didn’t tell him what was going on. He then said that if she didn’t tell him the thing she obviously doesn’t want to tell him, he’d not only use his power on her and figure it out, but would also probably pick up on other things she doesn’t want him knowing about. Sophie then makes it very obvious that she doesn’t want to do it, but he “didn’t back down”, by which Shannon of course means “didn’t respect Sophie’s feelings and her right to keep them to herself”. That is so. That is just. I don’t understand how Shannon somehow managed to twist this into Keefe caring about Sophie. He threatened, coerced, manipulated, and extorted her into telling him, sure, but caring about her??? Don’t make me laugh. Keefe is possibly the most toxic character in this entire series, and it is disgusting how Shannon gives the impression that this is caring behavior, or correct in any capacity at all. When someone wants to be left alone, you leave them alone. Keefe needs to go back to seventh grade health class, where they teach you that no means no. [My personal favorite example, because this is the one that most makes me think Shannon actively does not realize what a shitty character she's created in Keefe. He threatens Sophie (by telling her that if she didn't tell him, he'd forcefully take it from her, with some possible extra secrets, thrown in for funsies) into getting something he wants (her telling him what she's feeling). Yes, this is still shitty if you mask it as "caring". If Sophie doesn't want to talk, he needs to respect that, not pretend he knows her wishes better than she knows them herself. That is gaslighting. And taking away someone's agency to make their own decisions regarding their own feelings is bad and not good!]

[block limits are fun!!!]

“‘[ . . . ] forced herself to meet Keefe’s ice blue eyes. ‘I’m fine.’ When he raised one eyebrow, she added, ‘I’m just frustrated [ . . . ]’” (7) That’s right, the page numbers return. And I have physical copies of the rest of the series, so they’re here to stay. It may seem like Keefe is just trying to check on Sophie and make sure she’s okay, which is a noble cause, but when someone says they don’t want to talk about something, that means they don’t want to talk about it. That does not mean you prod and prod until they spill. So many things Sophie tells Keefe get twisted and people think she tells him because she trusts him, but more often than not she doesn’t and he just prods her or extorts them out of her. [It may not seem like Keefe "prod[s] and prod[s]", as my past self put it. But this is Flashback, so you do have to take into account the fact that Sophie has been putting up with Keefe's shitty behavior for six books, so she succumbs quicker. She knows that he will just take it from her if she doesn't give him what she wants. There is a quote later down that proves this, actually (it'll be in red).]

“‘Yup! But I can’t stop her, so I might as well let her take you down with me.’” (97) This is Keefe talking about Ro using him as a lie detector to extort Sophie’s secret out of her, by the way. Which Keefe agrees to do. Which he wouldn’t do if he really was a good friend. Just like Sophie wouldn’t have to make this deal with Ro if Keefe would just listen to good advice for once and do the smart thing. But he doesn’t care about Sophie’s mental health, and he doesn't care about Sophie’s feelings, because or else he would respect them by agreeing to stay out of the Neverseen’s way and not using his empathy to extort secrets Sophie clearly doesn't want to share out of her. And Ro. Honestly, she’s even worse than Keefe, partly because of her personality, but mostly because of the wasted potential. Keefe was always going to be the “bad boy angsty prankster with daddy issues that causes trouble” trope that we've seen a million times. But Ro could’ve been so much more. She’s the ogre princess, and the most Shannon could do with her is make her a Sokeefe fangirl. [Again, Keefe uses his empathy (force) to keep Sophie honest as Ro forces her to tell her and Keefe the secret that she desperately doesn't want to tell to the both of them (obtaining something he wants). And this is somehow spun around and sold to the audience as caring.]

“‘But do you really think you’re going to be able to leave here without telling me what happened with the Forklenator? If you do, you’re going to be sorely, sorely disappointed—and covered in biscuit crumbs.’” (351) Again, Keefe as good as admits that he’d force Sophie to spill if she didn’t tell him what happened with Mr. Forkle. His extortive ways need to stop being glorified and start being treated like the horrific manipulation it is. [This may seem like a joke, but it got Sophie to spill, so I mean. And yes, Sophie came there with the intention of telling Keefe. But that doesn't change the fact that telling someone they have to tell you something they may not want to is shitty. Especially considering how Keefe has acted for the past seven books (this is in Legacy).]

“She wasn’t sure if they were allowed to tell him—but it was so much easier than arguing.” (336) Keefe has literally annoyed Sophie so much that she doesn’t even think it’s worth the fight to keep a secret. That’s not good. It means that Sophie just succumbs to whatever he wants without a thought. That’s pretty much the highest sign of a toxic relationship. [And the reason she succumbed? Because he consistently shows her he has the power to take what he wants from her, over and over and over, and consistently has threatened/forced her, so now she doesn't even think it's worth the fight to try to keep stuff secret anymore. I don't know what else to say. This is not good. It is not caring. It is extortive and shows a clear lack of trust in Sophie and Keefe's relationship.]

and just as a comparison point, here's what keefe using his empathy in a healthy, not extortive way looks like:

so yeah, i'd say keefe consistently and constantly extorts sophie (and others) when he decides it's convenient for him.

[bougiebutchbitch]

I'm not in the ofmd fandom but I am intrigued by the drama. spill the tea?

OH GOD OKAY

Where do I begin lksdlgkfds

Okay so

There’s this nasty little gremlin-man in ofmd called Izzy Hands. He’s a sour, mean, skrunkly, disabled little cunt who is a firm believer in Respect and Discipline (in a very queer subby way).

This is to say: he is. Explicitly. Queer. He does drag on the show, and has a whole coming-out scene. He is a kinky masochist. He confesses his love for another man, and basically ruins his own life & everyone else's, because he is sooooo pathetically jealous about this man (his captain!) falling for some milquetoast loser white rich guy, when Izzy, a badass leather-wearing working-class sword-swinging swashbuckler, is right there making puppy-eyes at him.

He's wrong! He's horrid! He's a bastard, pickled in piss and vinegar! He's five-foot-nothing of spite and gay self-loathing! He's very fun to watch, and very, very queer.

People still insist that he’s straight. And racist. Despite there being 0 textural evidence to support this, and the creators of the show repeatedly saying that this is absolutely not what they wrote.

Why do people hate him so much? Simple! Because he ‘got in the way’ of the main ship.

Yup. It’s basically ‘bash the girl who gets in the way of our m/m otp’ only the girl is a grizzled 50-something year old pirate.

The main ship, btw, is between Ed Teach, an awesome complex flawed hopeful beautiful character of colour; and Stede Bonnet, another awesome complex flawed character. Who is a white guy. And who happens to be a rich plantation owner from the 1700s. Based on A LITERAL SLAVE OWNER. Who is explicitly shown to be a Problematic White Guy with fucked-up racist views.

Like. He’s not a perfect guy. The show makes this very, very clear - to the point where Stede pushes Ed into sex super-fast immediately after Ed says he wants to go slow, and this makes Ed run away and freak out.

But somehow, Certain Fans still insist that Izzy is to blame because :checks notes: he makes one cheeky, friendly joke about them finally getting together that is clearly given & received in good spirits.

Yeah.

There's a lot of this cognitive dissonance going on. And it's very, very wilful.

Basically: a certain subset of people who ship Ed and Stede refuse to exercise the slightest bit of critical thought of Stede’s views and actions (which are a representation of the white landed gentry!) but insist on maliciously twisting literally everything Izzy says or does to cast him as The Ultimate Villain. Whereas anyone watching the show can tell that he starts off as an antagonist-with-a-deeply-hidden-heart-of-gold, whose entire arc is about growth and redemption.

I think 99% of this is projection. Stede and Ed are not perfect by any means, but these people are so dead-set on shipping a Cute Fluffy Romance (when that. Really isn’t what the show gave us) that they have to create a villain out of Izzy and blame all of Stede and Ed’s fucked-up choices and actions on him, in the most contrived ways. Which has the added bonus of them deciding that Izzy, a white guy, is somehow responsible for literally ALL of Ed’s genuinely awful, abusive, and interesting choices in S2, where he went on his villain arc. Even though Izzy was the main victim of this villain arc. Rather than, y’know, giving Ed the agency to make his own damn decisions and acknowledging that he is a flawed and fascinating character who Hurts People but still deserves a happy ending, like literally every other main character on ofmd. Nope. Gotta infantalise that man of colour and pretend he has no control over his own life and his morality is goverened by the white men around him!

Then, they get to portray Stede as his white saviourTM who swoops in and saves Ed from ‘his own darkness’ with the power of love. 😊 because that’s not Problematique in the slightest 😊

It’s… fucked up, to put it plainly. But honestly, as much as there is a problem with their dogged insistence that Izzy is the root of all iniquity on the show, and that Ed and Stede are pure perfect angels who never did any wrong... what was worse was the relentless harassment enacted by that side of the fandom against anyone who dared show a liking for Izzy’s character. Like, it’s not the worst fandom out there by any means, but it really did make the fandom feel hostile to anyone who didn’t ship the main ship.

SO - yeah. That's the tea! OFMD was a fun show with lots of cool flawed characters. But the fandom was a cesspit, fuelled mostly by a Certain Group Of Fans' desperation to make their ship Perfect and Morally Pure - which resulted in them throwing an interesting, well-rounded, morally grey queer disabled character under the bus, and harrassing anyone who enjoyed him.

[timesomewhere]

in honour of the West End's next to normal closing today I've finally proof-read my 'things I noticed/general thoughts' post that's been sitting in my drafts since I saw it earlier this month. it's very long I'm very sorry.

Act One:

it was really fun watching this show in September given that there's two references to it in the first song

I adore the monologue about the pills that Dr. Fine gives during 'Who's Crazy'. it's rhythmic and funny yet also unnerving. It's such a quick and impactful way to summarise what Diana has been through for the past 16 years

Gabe does a 'one of your French girls' pose on the kitchen counter under the cabinets during 'My Psychopharmacologist and I'

Jamie Parker made direct eye contact with me during the last part of 'Who's Crazy' and it was one of the most intense experiences of my life

I might just be dense but I don't get the point of the neon sign that says 'Fine' which drops down during the Dr. Fine scene. Initially I thought that then one would drop down saying 'Madden' during his scenes to help people differentiate between the doctors but then it didn't so it just feels like a weird extra prop

speaking of random props, shout out to the iPad on the table in the opening scene which Gabe pretty much instantly takes away after telling Diana that she shouldn't obsess over tragic news stories and is then never seen again as far as I remember

Dan in the flashback scene being such an optimist about Diana's pregnancy and the future they're gonna have together... soul-crushing

Caissie Levy's 'I Miss The Mountains.' Holy Shit.

I love how Diana and Gabe are the only characters who sing on/stand on the table. it's as though it's this extra dimension of the house that only they have access to and it's a really neat and subtle way to show that they relate to each other in ways other characters don't

'It's Gonna Be Good' is so underrated. Jamie Parker's somewhat genuine optimism becoming optimism-through-gritted-teeth is incredibly acted

The way Jamie delivers the first line of 'He's Not Here' is devastating. the heaviness of that moment as you feel the audience around you realising what's just happened is something I'll remember forever

Gabe body-blocking Dan from Diana during 'I Am the One' is such good staging. People talk about how Jack Wolfe plays Gabe with a lot of layers and a lot of simultaneous contradiction and this song is one of the best examples of that. how Jack manages to project a character who is goading his father and protecting his mother at the same time is beyond me

also Jack has maybe half-an-inch on Jamie which obviously isn't something the actors control but it does makes Gabe seem just that bit more threatening when he's getting in Dan's face

for the first part of Superboy and the Invisible Girl when it's just Natalie singing, Gabe is actively laughing. He's totally unperturbed by her efforts to make herself seen to her mother. it's only when Diana replies, particularly when she says "you're our little pride and joy, our perfect plan" that you see his face drop and you see him trying to figure out a way to stop her from getting Diana's attention which then results in him kicking her off the melody in her own song

"I'll hurt you" being directed at Dan and "I'll heal you" being directed at Diana as Gabe gently touches her face gets me so bad. but the most painful part of 'I'm Alive' for me is when Gabe looks at Dan as he says "I'm the perfect stranger who knows you too well." that's the first time you realise that perhaps Gabe doesn't just impact Diana, and there's something much larger at play

Caissie and Jack W's voices harmonising on 'Catch Me I'm Falling' was one of my favourite parts of the whole show. Their voices are so magical together and their mother/son chemistry is incredible

The 'I Dreamed A Dance' into 'There's a World' sequence is one of the most tragically beautiful things I've ever witnessed. I went into the show knowing what Gabe was trying to achieve during 'There's A World' and yet Jack's voice is so beautifully haunting you totally forget you're supposed to root against Gabe in that moment

Jamie Parker's 'I've Been' is some of the best acting through song out there. Interestingly my friend and I had very different interpretation's of what Gabe's horrified reaction to the blood meant. I viewed it as him being upset about what he convinced Diana to do - he doesn't like seeing her hurt. Whereas my friend saw it as him being angry at himself that she didn't manage to follow through, meaning that he has failed to regain control over her life

'I'm no sociopath, I'm no Sylvia Plath. I ain't no Frances Farmer kind of find for you' is one of the best musical theatre lyrics of all time. I genuinely don't know why I Miss The Mountains is the 'big song' known from N2N over 'Didn't I See This Movie?', it's just so good

Natalie's 'She trusts you!' line is heartbreaking, I was basically watching that entire scene through my fingers because of how high the emotion was

Act Two:

'Pfizer's woman of the year' will in fact be peak comedy every time. Eleanor's delivery is *chef's kiss*

Gabe having just one line in 'Wish I Were Here', and that line being 'Wish I were here.' Yeah. I feel very normal about that.

Natalie's line of "Can I hide my stupid hunger, fake some confidence and cheer?" being pretty much exactly what Gabe has done throughout the entirety of act 1

"And you're not a scary rockstar anymore" got one of the biggest laughs at both of the shows I went to

Dan's desperation during 'Better Than Before.' He is simultaneously trying to cajole Diana into remembering and get Natalie to be more positive. This one song really highlights how he's being pulled in a million different directions while trying to hold it all together and Jamie portrays that so well

Aftershocks. Wow. The way the last word of each line echoes throughout the theatre is great sound design. I've been in exam halls louder than the audience during that song. Holding a room that captive as a silhouette is quite the feat Jack Wolfe you will always be famous

"I don't know where the fucking pieces go" as Diana pushes things off the table as if there's a real jigsaw there that she's rage quitting and choosing to give up on is such a nice detail

"Have you talked of your depression, your delusions and your son?" The gasp in the theatre both times was sickening

the response of "good' in reply to "name?" when technically that was part of his name as they are the "Goodmans". I don't really have a point here I just think it's neat

The 'It's Gonna Be Good" reprise was one of my favourite Dan/Diana moments. Caissie and Jamie are really pushing each other to their emotional limits and they handle it so well

The first "Why stay?" is so fragile as Diana sits against the kitchen island. Also interesting given that Dan and Gabe will also sit against there later when they are at their lowest point in the story. The idea of the characters crawling to the 'centre/heart' of the home when they are at their weakest

"This is one old game that I can play so well" is the line that has stuck the most with me throughout the show. Jack's delivery of it while striding across the kitchen table - seemingly totally invincible - is crazy.

how Caissie manages to deliver "you shrugged and said that no one really knows" with humour and desperation at the same time is amazing

When Gabe and Diana stand on the table and if they let go of one another they'll fall. yeahhhhh.....

Gabe's realisation that Diana isn't going to give up on getting better. Totally collapsing in on himself and beginning to cry. How you manage to feel bad for him after all the destruction he's caused is wild

Diana's "maybe I'm tired of the game" relating back to Gabe's "this is one old game that I can play so well"

the lyrics in 'Hey #3' clearly reflecting things Diana has done, Henry cutting Natalie off at "bleeding in the bathtub"

"I am the one who'll heal you" being said to Dan not Diana this time

"Why didn't you go with her?" is the most devastating line in the whole musical I said what I said. Jamie's delivery of it is heart wrenching

the drums and bass kicking in for the loud part of I Am The One as Gabe becomes desperate to be seen once again

Jack and Jamie's acting in this moment is so intense. there's a moment where it's genuinely feels as though only one of them can make it out of the interaction alive

Jack's emphasis on the word 'loved' in the line "I am the one who loved you" nearly killed me on the spot. how somebody can deliver a line so desperately while remaining pitch perfect is unfair

Natalie coming in to kiss Dan's head at the start of 'Light' like Gabe kisses Diana's in the first scene. I'm such a sucker for a gut punching

the "And are they real?" line about Diana's parent's from Henry gets such a loud reaction from the audience. Some people laugh immediately, some people clearly get shocked out of their sobs. so good

In conclusion, this is my favourite musical of all time and I'm going to be so annoying waiting for the pro-shot to come out

[imagionationstation]

“Can you listen?”

Raph’s world tilts, the same way it always does when he uses that tone of voice. “What?”

“Can you listen? Just, listen?”

He closes the comic immediately. “If I gotta.”

Mikey enters the room and sits. His head rests against the edge of the bed as Raph puts his feet on the floor. His brother stares at the roof, solemn.

“I think it’s my fault,” His voice doesn’t have the Mikey tint to it. It’s burdened and stiff. He hates it. “That no one likes me.”

Raph’s pinches his arm to stop the impulse to open his mouth.

Mikey’s eyes are distant. He’s faraway, stuck in thoughts that he hardly ever has, in a sluggish moment that makes his movements slow and each word pronounced. “I know I care be weird. And loud. And- and I see them. The looks. From.”

He stops, as if he can’t remember if there was more to that statement. Or maybe he doesn’t want there to be.

Mikey’s supposed to be an open book. And yet, sometimes even he can’t bear to flip his own pages.

“We’re different. I know that. Humans won’t like us. Because we’re... Monsters.” Mutants, he wants to correct, in the same way that he does when Donnie whispers the hateful freak to the mirror.

He digs his fingers into the sheets. Why does he have to watch, time and time again, as it spreads like a plague between them? “And- And not ‘cause we are. We just… It’s just that way for us.”

He looks up. Raph nods, a stiff motion. Not talking. Listening. 

“And I can be different. ‘Cause of my head. And my- my-” He waves vaguely to explain what they both already know. “And it’s not bad. But it can be. Bad. Annoying. And it’s okay. Donnie’s-” Another wave. “It’s not bad. It’s just us. But it’s. For me, it’s like.”

He looks at the ground. “I think. I think if you weren’t my family, I’d be alone.”

Don’t say it- “There’s Leatherhead.” DARN IT- 

“Yeah,” Mikey agrees, soft. Raph exhales, relieved. “Leatherhead’s my best friend.” 

There’s so much defeat. Raph bites his tongue. Mikey mutters, “I don’t know.” 

He waits. Mikey says, “Maybe he shouldn’t be.” 

Raph scoots down to the floor. Mikey doesn’t react. “He’s great. I don’t know what I’d do if he wasn’t. I don’t like thinking about it.”

The lost gaze drifts across the roof. “Sometimes I think I’d be better if I wasn’t me. If I was different. And then I want to change, but then Leo gives me the perfect opportunity for a sneak attack, and then he’s glittery and embarrassed and it’s… Fun. I have fun. But it can also be mean. And make people mad. And I don’t want to change. I don’t want to. But maybe I should.”

He leans on Raph’s shoulder, weighed by defeat. “Raph?”

Raph’s awful at this. He knows that. But he has to say something.

“Don’t know anything about should or shouldn’t. I know you’re my little brother. Don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t. You are. That’s all that matters to me. Which means we’re stuck with each other. You don’t want to change? Don’t.”

He hesitates, scanning his face for any hint that his words are having the right impact on him. “Nobody’s the boss of you but you. World sucks. Humans suck. Some people’ll like you for stupid and some people won’t. Leatherhead’s been around this long. Don’t see him running off any time soon.”

Mikey smiles, briefly. It falls.

Raph follows his gaze to the poster.

He mutters, “Thank, Raphie.”

Raph swallows the bubbling worry and says, “Sure, Mike.” 

They stay there until Mikey gains the strength to retreat to his room.

[song-star-rini]

now playing… アイドル! (Idol)

genre: idol shenanigan / slight crack? (ft other characters!)

ad libs: RP blog au! (if you come from my rin blog you probably would get the context better)

notes: made this for fun for my frequents on the rin itoshi blog @underlash-owl ---mentions of a lot of people who come to the blog often ^^

if i missed anyone pls don’t get offended!! also i tried to get everyone’s pronouns and internet names + also i wrote this purely on impulse please don’t fight me

🌠 : @reapkusho @kuro-min @wabatle @rinitoshiplzdateme @rinitoshisgirl ☆

@tigreblvnc @starfire7 @ssstar @soleilonthesun @galaxynajma ☆

@someprettyname @bachi-the-bee ☆

(for any descriptions i used the picrews :3 lmk if i got anything wrong!)

group name : idolists

part 1 / 2 / 3

“you’re all fucking insufferable. you especially.” rin spats harshly, but despite his harsh words, he doesn’t move a muscle as the makeup artist dusts away at his cheeks.

rini who is sitting across from him, holds back a strained chuckle as they snap a picture of the male in front of them, leaning to their right to shows Najma the photo.

a sly grin stretches her lips as she looks between the screen and the soccer player.

“looking good”

“shut the fuck up najma”

rin let out a stiff breath when the door closed and the makeup artist had finally left, leaving the three of them alone.

“calm down dawg it’s not like you look bad,” rini shrugged, but that didn’t do much to soothe the younger itoshi brother.

“does it look like i give a shit? why did you even agree to this deal? i wasted so much free time practicing for a small ass concert.” rin complained.

he brings his hands to his face but retracts when he remembers that he just got his makeup done by the artist.

“you didn't lose any time for your boyfriend called soccer, so don't worry.” najma chirps, initiating an eyeroll from rin.

rini wasn’t wrong, rin didn’t look bad, he looked great, like an actual idol from somewhere. he didn’t look pro but he couldn’t be mistaken for a rookie either.

the male adorned the teal cargo pants with the white shirt and black varsity jacket perfectly. the white shirt had a small blue lock logo and the jacket had the PXG symbol on the back.

the outfit theme overall was bright accents of teal and blue with black being the overall back up.

silver rings looped around his fingers as piercings marked his ears, a single soccer ball silver chain dangled from his neck.

so uh..

why was he in here?

because his mod thought it’d be great to perform for some fans of his as an idol, he’d sing some songs, only three since he wasn’t a full time performer.

the playlist looks like: future perfect (pass the mic), drunk dazed, both the japanese version and some compromises in the choreography, and the last song is called 99 PERCENT. (including another song hooo)

yes, all songs mentioned are all sung by a group of 7, so of course, rin has some soccer friends to bring with him. so within this soccer idol group, we got shidou, bachira, reo, chigiri, isagi, and.. sae.

all were chosen by his mod, who might not see the light of day tomorrow, but that’s not what we’re here for.

the group let the rini decide what to call their temporary idol alias, and they chose ‘idolists’ a play on ‘egoists’ (don’t come after me if cringe)

the group had practice, all taking up roles, weak in singing? you’re a dancer. and vice versa. rini hadn’t slept properly in days to make sure this silly little promo event would do well.

maybe another cuss filled conversation passes, and its time for najma to leave and to let the group get together before the curtains rise.

the group meets in the back stage room, all dressed accordingly, can you guess who’s the center? rin.

“yippee!! did you see?! there’s so many people!” bachira squeals as he jumps up and down and around, he snuck a peak of the seats and saw a lot of fans chatter eagerly to see their faves on stage.

“it’s nothing compared to what i’ve seen.” reo comments nonchalantly, but bachira rolls his eyes.

“yeah.. but uh.. are you sure this is a good idea..?” isagi asks, but instead of rini, shidou answers for him.

“too late to think about that jackass.” he grins, a bit evil and a bit excited. and then he goes back to fawning over sae’s outfit, it wasn’t that extreme just a chest window that shidou couldn’t get his ass over.

isagi grits his teeth slightly and hisses out a “right.” then turns to the bright red head who they’re all waiting for. “come on chigiri..” but the long haired male doesn’t even spare a glance.

but the conversations muffle together for rin, nothing interesting being said, the only thing that the boy could pay any attention to is his brother.

but someone steps in and waves an obnoxious hand in his face.

“focus bro, lock in,” is all emi said, half serious, half joking. but it effectively made rin tear his eyes off of his 'family' member.

“there’s no time for soccer beef, just do what you practiced, or who knows.. beat him another way.”

whether it was intentional or not, what emi said had written its way into his head, and was slightly echoing as he steps up to the stage, everyone following behind him.

the curtain raises and the crowd erupts, the boys haven’t even moved a muscle. but anyone would practically explode if they saw their idol, right?

tbc.

ok so this is rlly an intro to the trilogy(?)

so uh ill tag everyone when the next part comes out, which actually has the performance :OOO

if you wanna be tagged just lmk :#

also my frequents have updated but i wont be adding them to this series

BONUS ART DRAWN BY MEEE