#praying for Chip also

[teehee-vibes]

Thinking of Chip and Arlin today…

[tigers1o1]

What your favorite jrwi riptide pc ship ( ACTUALLY) says about you

From the fnc guy whos also really good at pattern recognition

Starting w fnc. Obviously.

Ur GAY. But more importantly, you yearn for a deep, unconditional love. An Opposites that are perfect for each other kind of love. You fuck heavily with the “hero x villain” trope and you love it when character development is fundamentally based in the characters relationship to another character. Being better for another person, healing because they want to see you healthy, kinda thing. You’re also probably mildly dependent in relationships (I’m so sorry)

Mockingjay.

Yall tend to be the chillest people. You’re the folks that dont really go with the grain, but dont typical give a single fuck about other peoples opinions of you. Either that or you are DEATHLY frightened of being cancelled on twitter. You just think they’re cute, and honestly? Slay.

Navyseal.

Holy shit fluff lords. You want them to hold each other and braid each other’s hair. You definitely fall more on the “people who are alike have stronger relationships and can relate more” side of things. You’re definitely autistic, consider this your diagnosis. You probably also want to see them be badass together.

Polypirates.

You’re genderqueer. You cant make a decision to save your life. You probably don’t get along well with your parents and you heavily subscribe to the found family trope. I’m so sorry for so heavily putting you on blast. Anyway, go join a cuddle pile <3 you deserve it

I hit the max number of pictures for a Tumblr post so lmk if you want a part two

[secretishfanartspot]

i’m so glad i woke up today

edit: you can also see a speedpaint of it here (due to the restrictions of sony vegas 15 it is way too fast. sucks)

[nickfoo]

Attempting a fully colored piece with background elements

Pray for me

[loumauve]

petition for the goddamn cough to go away

[pyrriax]

hi utopia :] hrrmm what can i ask you. what’s your favorite fic you’ve ever written

hi scooter!! thats a tough question, ooo.....

in terms of true fanfic, i'd have to say thats asomatous . that fic absolutely reconstructed how i go about writing, since it really just turned out Right.

but, if i bend it a little to include some of my more. original-but-still-inherently-fannish works, then i mean. i have to point to where the dust settles (which i swear im working on its not abandoned ive just been plagued by terralith)

[jrueships]

callback to zach making kris beg for his life on live camera

[weezerlvr228]

Hello!!! I want to talk about weezer but im too shy! I wish i had more weezer friends

AWW ANON NO WORRIES!!! i was like that too!! best thing ive found is to just comment + interact w weezer fans on tiktok, like maladroitlover579 is super duper nice! :D people r very very nice on tiktok , but of course u could always dm me and we can talk abt weezer all you’d like !

[localraccconn]

okay i need to seriously start an f1 side blog so sorry in advance to anyone following who is not a motorsports fan cause i’m clogging my dash starting from now

[autism-corner]

autism tip: if you ever want to eat dusty/salty things that make your fingers icky like. chips or summ. just use your tongue!! go dog style in that bowl!! blep.

[pastempomat]

hi wasn't posting my bullshit for a while but i'm seeing my doctor on thursday to talk about her if she agrees with the diagnosis from the psych ward n bc they think i have npd i don't want to post about how i'm doing bc it feels like i'm looking for attention and it makes me feel like a bad person but also writing that i feel like a bad person makes me think i'm trying to get sympathy from you or something like that so i just decided to be quiet however psych ward description also said i didn't talk about myself as much as i should so all i want to do is to kill myself so i'm not a problem to other people and i won't harm anyone intentionally or not while dead but also i don't want to cause pain to my family so i can't really kill myself so i'm just in bed rotting and crying

[p-jinx]

Going crazy in the tags for this one, boss

[kalims]

⊹ giving them flowers

premise. no plot we are just giving them flowers cause guys deserve some too <3

content. fluff, mini scenarios, azul turns into a silly nerd (affectionate)

featuring. jamil, sebek, riddle, azul.

note. actually accidentally posted this yesterday and got a heart attack (also an actual consistent posting schedule...?)

jamil gives you a look.

he spares a long stare at the bouquet you clutch between your hands, wearing an awfully cheeky grin that's chipping off the scold in his throat. "how many times have I told you this?" he deadpans.

but from the obvious fact that you're holding it. it's not like jamil can do anything about it.

"you don't buy flowers for yourself," he says firmly. I'm supposed to be the one getting them for you. he would like to add.

"they're a waste of madol?" you tilt your head.

he answers immediately. "no, just—" jamil's eye twitches like he's trying his hardest to keep something. "don't,"

perhaps he's being a little too blunt but it makes him upset. is he really messing up in gift giving to the extent where you have to buy something for.. yourself? and jamil is pretty sure gifts are called as such for a reason.

and that they're from, or gifted to another person.

you chuckle in your fist, but he continues to ramble; "also it's hard to care for flowers when you don't know much, i don't want you to—"

"jamil hon, my baby, the apple of my eye, the love of my life, they're for you,"

you say simply, and watch in amusement when his moments stutter before they stop to a complete freeze.

a furious wave of heat crawls up on his back but he's praying frantically. now is not the time. he seethes.

... he just tripped over his words.

jamil reluctantly accepts the flowers after you've finished laughing your ass off, and the only thing in his mind is the love.

okay maybe he should pick up a book about caring for flowers. do they even survive in the harsh conditions of scarabia?

whatever he'll make it work.

you should've expected this.

despite your arm honestly starting to tremble under the stress of holding it out for about 2 minutes straight now, you still attempt a smile—although strained. wouldn't want sebek to find it an unfriendly gesture.

even though he probably already thinks that anyways.

you don't want to color sebek in a way that shows that his only personality is being suspicious to everyone, and of course. the dearest young master he adores. (seriously though it's a little concerning, and you're kinda jealous.)

sebek stares at the bouquet in your hand with scrutinizing eyes, as if to say non-verbally: 'what is this'.

you sigh when he just stares at it like it's a bomb. "it's flowers." you deadpan.

sebek pursues his lips, looks away before looking back. "I can see that!" he says like he wasn't wearing a face that made you think you had to explain. but he just crosses his arms and falls silent with a huff. "for the young master, yes?'

he pauses. "I can atleast acknowledge your gesture, human!"

was that supposed to be good? you weren't given the chance to explain because he continues again; "though I will have to make sure that these aren't anything the young master is allergic to." he nods to himself, as though proud for being so thoughtful.

your eye twitches. you're a little surprised that he didn't even imply that it could be possibly a bomb inside to try and assassinate them.. but you notice a slight tense-ness to his demeanor.

you know cause he's huffed about 5 times in the past 1 minute, he's looked away and he's very clearly sneaking peaks at your hand.

—then he huffs to himself! then it repeats.

"I will take them to the young master at once!" he announces with his loud volume, stepping forward to grab it from you but you ultimately beat him. you're just praying he doesn't find you 10x more suspicious the moment you had wrenched it back to yourself with surprising strength you didn't know you had.

even he looked surprised!

"no, sebek.." you heave. "they're not for malleus, they're for you."

he didn't have the heart to correct the way you addressed the young master before he dutifully exploded.

he's shaking away from you with a wobbling, agape mouth. he could only open and close them dumbly, not beir capable to let a word out.

you suppose he was too speechless because he didn't even say anything when you happily pushed the bouquet to his chest like nothing happened.

for someone who's most diligent in studying, you'd think riddle would be able to catch on easily on the gist of your actions.

but he just blinks when you hold out your hand. pretty gray eyes trained on the bouquet of red roses in your grasp, then onto your face with inquisitive question apparent with the raise of his brow.

"we have plenty of roses in our gardens." he says, as though like giving him... these is the most bizarre phenomenon in his life.

it seems like he feels the need to add. "we grow them."

you smile, the sweet thing awfully tight on your face. "they're for you," you explain. a little perturbed that you need to in the first place, but it's riddle so you sorta understand?

riddle squints. "why?"

you blank. "like... like a gift, for you? you know. cause I want to."

then as if the slowness of the processing going on in his brain gradually speeds up. it's obvious he's probably realized the implications of your little gift from the jolt, then widened eyes who stare in disbelief.

riddle gulps. "for, me?" he asks stupidly.

your raised brows say yes.

it's almost hilarious when he accepts them gratefully and stares at them like you just sprouted a literal white rose from the ground, wrapped it in some fancy plastic, and then handed it to him with a smile.

silence ensues again. riddle notices, screeches in his head to do something about it except he can't, cause his mind seems to be broken right now and he can't exert any words but a stammer.

and he'd really like to relearn how to speak because you're fidgeting on the spot, clearly nervous by his silence.

"sorry," you chuckle. "um.. it's just red roses, not white, or blue, or pink—"

"no!" he blurts out far too quickly. hands stretched out in the air a little as though reaching out to stop you but then stiffly staying by his side. riddle clears his throat. "I mean... this is... very important to me."

you look like you don't really believe him cause he was going off about roses in his dorm before.

he flushes, away from your gaze. "because its from you."

you can barely see azul.

or gauge out his reaction if it's supposed to be good or bad, because you can barely even see his eyes from all the sudden sheen of white over it. did all the smoke in the room just gravitate over his glasses conveniently or something?

you can spot the joints in his fingers twitching but oddly enough he remains stiff in front of you. uncharacteristically silent, which wouldn't really lead to good things.

"hello?" with your free hand, devoid of any flowers with the power of freezing a person. you wave it in front of his face which seems to have done a pretty good job with snapping him out of whatever trance he's in.

the glasses slip down the bridge of his nose but he fixes them at record speed. admittedly with clammy fingers.

azul coughs. "thank you very much." he clutches them tighter, pursuing his lips.

"I know octavinelle is not the best place for warmer places," he starts and a flash of confusion on your face is something he misses. "but I will manage it and find an accommodation for these, around 34 or 35 degrees."

your brows furrow. what.

"hmm yes... a nice vase, I'll use the most pure water there is." he rants. "then I'll fill it up with two thirds of its container and make sure it lives healthy."

that's... concerning.

"I'll have jade clean it regularly." he says and you're honestly more scared for the flowers. "I cannot trust floyd either so I'll trim it by two centimeters at the right angle occasionally when it dries."

he says all that, with a pink face.

you awkwardly stand there taking in azuls apparent plans on how to ensure the lifespan of your 'thoughtful' gift will be extended as far as he can help in to commerce your honor.

[burningembers91]

The Girl Next Door - Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It's been three years since Hwang In-Ho's family was taken from him. He spends his days watching the world go by from his window until one day, the girl next door needs his help.

Warnings: 18+ only, Hwang In-Ho has depression, mentions of death of wife and child, mentions of loneliness

 It had been three years since Hwang In-Ho’s life had disintegrated in front of his eyes. Three years since his wife had passed, their unborn baby’s life also ending before it had begun. In-Ho had done everything he could think of to save the love of his life and the child he was so desperate to raise. He’d spent all of his money in a futile attempt to save the lives of the two people most important to him, and he had failed. He had prayed to a God he didn’t believe in, had worked his fingers to the bone to pay for treatments that doctors weren’t optimistic about. The day his wife and unborn baby died, so did In-Ho.

He had removed himself from society, cut all ties with family and friends. His shame was so great, he couldn’t bring himself to face the world. With the little money he had left over, he moved to a rundown apartment no bigger than his wife’s hospital room. The single room was shabby, the paint chipped and faded. He didn’t bother to buy furniture, choosing to spend each day sitting on the cold, hard floorboards, staring out of the window. There was a beautiful park opposite his apartment, where he could hear the sounds of children playing, of people laughing. His son or daughter should be two and a half now, and he should be playing with them in a park just like the one he watched every day. Instead, he hid away from the world, ignoring the phone calls from his mother and brother. He pushed everyone away, sinking further and further into his own depression.

He wasn’t sure exactly when you moved in next door. The apartment to the left of his had been vacant the entire time he’d been living in his. All he knew was that one day he was aware of movement next door. The walls were thin, and he could hear your music playing gently, could hear your out of tune voice as you sang along. He heard you laughing with friends, heard you flirt with your new boyfriend on FaceTime. He heard the two of you making love at night, heard the argument that ended your relationship only two months after it had begun. He heard you crying late at night after the breakup, and then he heard your out of tune voice singing along to the music once more. In-Ho had spotted you a few times as you came and went. You were very pretty, beautiful even, but In-Ho refused to acknowledge it. You smiled every time you saw him, a smile that would light up the darkest of rooms. Your eyes sparkled, your perfume smelled of amber and vanilla and your laugh was the most beautiful noise in the world. Three years was a long time to spend alone, but In-Ho refused to admit the attraction he felt towards you.

He’d never spoken a word to you, barely acknowledging your greetings. He’d let himself go in recent years, had stopped eating, had stopped shaving, had stopped doing anything that once brought him joy. He listened to your life progress through the thin walls of his apartment while he wasted his. He watched the world go by from the window of his cold, damp apartment, wishing the universe would give him back what it so cruelly stole away.

He was watching two parents teach their son how to ride a bike when he heard the noise. It was a deep groaning inside the walls, like pressure mounting in metal pipes. His eyes followed the noise as it travelled along, the groaning and screeching becoming more intense. Then he heard a bang, and the sound of a single scream. It came from your apartment, followed by a sound of rushing water. He thought about going to see if you were alright, but something stopped him. He was a mess today, he hadn’t showered, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t moved from his spot by the window since sunrise. It was evident a pipe had exploded, but you could call a plumber. You didn’t need In-Ho; no one did.

Five minutes later, banging on his door forced him to move from his position on the floor. He was stiff, his bones and muscles aching with the cold and lack of movement. You stood outside his apartment, soaked to the bone. Rivulets of water dripped from your jawbone and chin onto your white t-shirt. Your clothes were drenched, your nipples pert and visible through the thin fabric. In-Ho felt the beginnings of something stir deep within his gut, a burning desire he hadn’t felt for many years. You were a damsel in distress on his doorstep, but he refused to be enticed by your looks.

“The water pipe in my kitchen has burst,” you explained, a puddle of water forming at your feet. “Do you know anything about plumbing?” He could see the desperation in your eyes, noticed the way you shivered in your thin, wet clothes. “Call a plumber.” He snapped gruffly, his voice hoarse from disuse. He didn’t want you on his doorstep, didn’t want you lingering in his thoughts. “I did,” you explained, “they can’t get here until tomorrow. Please, any help you can give me… I’m desperate.” Taking in your drenched figure, the way you trembled in his doorway, something in him gave way. “Fine,” he grumbled, “give me two minutes.” He didn’t wait for you to say thank you before closing the door, stalking over to the storage cupboard and pulling out a box of tools. In-Ho was handy around the house, choosing to teach himself how to fix plumbing, electric and all manner of other household issues. He strongly believed a man should be able to provide for his family; but he had no family to provide for anymore.

Taking a deep breath, and avoiding his unkempt reflection in the mirror, he made his way to your apartment. It was the same size as his, but so full of life. The walls were freshly painted in a soft, warm cream, adorned with photos of you and you friends. You had vibrant plants dotted around, and Sabrina Carpenter was playing through a speaker next to your bed. He’d become familiar with her work since you moved in; he’d spent two weeks with Espresso stuck in his head thanks to you. You stood at your kitchen sink, stuffing towels into the burst pipe, only to be sprayed by another shower of water moments later. In-Ho’s lip twitched, the beginnings of a smile that he quickly pushed away. “Let me take a look,” he said, trying to avoid the sight of your underwear drying on a rack by the window. You moved aside for him, your perfume enveloping his senses, wrapping him in a warm vanilla-scented hug. You smelled good, probably a damn sight better than he did. For the first time in years, he felt embarrassed by his appearance. He looked shoddy and dishevelled, like a survivor found living in a cave after 10 years in the wilderness. If you noticed, you didn’t say anything.

In-Ho was able to stabilise the leak, patching it up until the plumber could come tomorrow. He mopped the floor, shooing you away when you tried to help. Your clothes were still damp, your nipples still visible and In-Ho didn’t want the image of you imprinted on his brain. He didn’t want to think about you while he lay awake at night, but when you looked so good, he knew he’d be thinking of nothing else. “I don’t know how to repay you,” you gushed, “thank you so much.” “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, desperate to get out of your apartment. It smelled so nice, like fresh linen. Your small space felt like home, and In-Ho felt a pang in his heart. He hadn’t had a home in many years. “Well, at least let me feed you,” you said, “have you eaten yet?” “No.” In-Ho packed his tools away. refusing to look you in the eye. He wanted to be back in the damp emptiness of his apartment, to be alone with his thoughts. He left your apartment before you could say another word, folding himself into a tiny ball by the window to watch the world go by without him.

A few hours later, there was another knock at door. In-Ho ignored it, knowing it was you on the other side. He waited until he heard your door close, remaining frozen in place as the smell of food slowly wafted through his door. He’d been surviving on nothing but packets of ramen for months, barely tasting the food he had to force himself to eat. Shuffling to the door, he opened it to reveal a bowl of what smelled like kimchi stew. In-Ho’s stomach growled; it was his favourite dinner. He grabbed the bowl before quickly closing the door. The smell of the dish was making his mouth water. The warmth from the bowl filled him with a sense of comfort he hadn’t known for a long time. He dug in, devouring the meal in record time. The stew was good, almost as good as the one his mother used to make and for the first time in a while, In-Ho felt content.

Your music started up again, something soft and acoustic. In-Ho sat back on the floor, clutching the bowl as he listened to the melody. He was achingly lonely, the feeling seeping into his bones, twisting itself around his soul. His brief meeting with you today had made him feel things he hadn’t felt in many moons. He would need to return your bowl to you, would need to thank you for the meal. But he needed time; time to sort out what he would say, time to make himself look the opposite of a wild caveman. His wife wouldn’t want him to be like this. If she could see him now, her heart would break. In-Ho needed to get back out into the world, needed to restart his life. He’d been so happy once, so full of joy and laughter. He needed to find the lust he’d once had for life.

Forcing himself to stand, In-Ho made his way to the bathroom. He pulled out his shaver, removing the first section of his scraggly beard. Tonight, he would shave his face, make himself look and feel a little more human. Tomorrow, he would return the bowl to you and hopefully get to know the beautiful girl who lived next door.

[freakyformula]

Your First Kiss- MV1, CL16, LN4, LH44

A/N: Okay real talk whoever came up with the idea of combining imagines in one post deserves an award

Warnings: Fluff

Max Verstappen

They were cuddling in each others embrace as they admired the Monaco sunset on his balcony. She had her legs over his, with her head resting on his chest as his arm was protectively wrapped around her.

He pulls his eyes away from the sunset to look at the girl next to him. She was truly divine.

Max disappeared into a state where nothing else mattered besides the rush of love he had for her. "There's so much I want to say, Y/N." He admits as he brushes his thumb over her cheek. His words made her look down at her primly folded hands. His thumb moves to her chin, and he lifts her head up to look at him.

The air was electric as their gazes met. Her slightly opened mouth, and her heavy breaths, indicated that she wanted the same as he did.

"Then say it." She whispers. Max sighs, not sure of where to begin.

His nose tickles her ear as he whispers, "I love you..."

His words made her breath hitch, did she hear that correctly?

"W-what?" She asks, needing to hear his words again.

Max closes the gap, not bothering to answer, and catches her lips. She huffs in surprise, admittedly, and opens her mouth for him, allowing him access to her mouth, and he gladly accepts her offer. His tongue licks her lips, tasting her. "Taste so fucking good, liefje." He whispers as he continues sucking and nibbling on her lower lip.

When they finally part, she is out of breath after the intense makeout session, and she could've sworn that she felt Max heaving too.

"I love you, Y/N." He breaks the silence after a while, still holding her close, kissing her face languidly, making her giggle.

She looks up at him, smiling, "I love you too, Maxie."

And with that, she leans in and gives him another kiss. And another...

Charles Leclerc

The setting Monaco sun warmed her skin as they walked along the harbour. In love, as they were, they held hands, and Charles couldn't help observing her, her shimmering skin and adorable dimples. His usually so controlled lust was wavering by this voluptuous woman walking beside him.

"Charles!" She waves her hand in front of him, snapping her fingers while laughing, finding the whole thing amusing. Charles looked at her with a blank face, confused. She was his muse, he couldn't help indulging in daydreams about her and her gorgeous lips.

He chuckles, "Sorry. I guess I got kind of distracted."

She slowly nods and interlocks her hands with his. "Distracted, huh?" She teases, sticking out her tongue. This was why Charles loved Y/N, she was playful and fierce as a lion cub.

He huffs and takes a step closer, clearly making her nervous, at least judging by the way her breaths become heavier. She gets up on her tiptoes as he looks down on her, the height difference being significant. Her rosy cheeks invited him just as much as her smile, while her eyes were showing off something else, something... Primal. She wanted him, but she was also smart, she wouldn't give in to her desire that easily.

Charles on the other hand, had a nasty fight with his lust, and he felt himself praying to a borrowed god, please let this be the moment. He was pathetically shifting the weight between his feet and licking his lips, as if that would calm them both down.

She smirked at him and came a little closer, coaxing him to kiss her.

Charles felt her warm minty breath (which must have been from the mint chocolate chip ice cream she had for dessert) on his face.

Their love had its own life; tickling, whispering, and annoying them both to madness. They both breathe out until Charles leans in and joins their mouths in a delicate kiss. The kiss was heated, and she quickly allowed him access to her mouth, to explore her every crevice. Their kiss quickly turns into a makeout session, and time seemed to slow down, or in her world, stop. His lips against hers was ecstasy, and she, nor him, could stop.

They didn't separate until a gust of wind hit them, knocking them off balance. The two love birds couldn't help laughing at the bizarre situation, being swept off their feet by their first kiss, and the next second fighting to keep balance as they're literally, in fact, swept off their feet.

Lando Norris

You combed your fingers through his curly locks as the night crept in. Slowly, Lando rubbed her back as he kissed her shoulders up to her neck. "Lando..." She do her best to sound strict but her voice lets her down and his name rolls off her tongue as a whimper.

"What is it, sweetheart?" He whispers between kisses. Shit, he was already hard as a rock... Lando sincerely hoped she didn't notice as he was grinding against her earlier.

"Stop teasing me." She warns, playfully pushing him away. Lando is having none of it and tugs her into his arms again. "C'mere..." He says, leaning in, but pulls away as he notices a tinge of uncertainty on her face. He tuts and pulls her into a hug instead. "You okay, love?"

She takes a moment to process his words and nods. "Yeah."

Lando is left looking at her, feeling unsure.

She sees his expression and moves to sit on him, straddling his hips. Her newfound confidence makes her lean in, scanning him for approval.

Lando moves his hands behind her neck, carefully pulling her closer to him and his face. When they're a few centimetres apart, she stops, unsure of what comes next. He helps her and leans in, softly kissing her on her cheek, and pulls away to check her reaction.

She was in a trance, enchanted by the love she had for him, and crashed into his lips rather violently.

Lando feels his heart swell for the woman grinding down on him, and he grabs her, turning her over so that he's on top. When they part, she looks at him, enlightened, she looks like a new person. This wasn't the same girl; this one, was wild and ready for more.

Lewis Hamilton

"Here, love!" Lewis half runs towards her as she makes her way through the paddock with one goal in mind, Lewis' warm embrace.

"Missed you." Lewis whispers in her ear.

"Lewis, its only been a couple of hours!" She laughs while grabbing his hand. Lewis drags her through the corridors of the motorhome until they see his room. Only then, does Lewis slow down, and slides his arm around her smaller figure. As they both sit down on the sofa, Lewis exhales and all of the stress he had collected during the day melts away in her touch.

"So beautiful..." Lewis compliments her, making her blush. He stares at her in awe, lost in her eyes. He leans in, and she lets out a nervous huff. When he is about to close the gap between them, *knock knock*, and Angela sticks her head inside. "Lewis, time to get ready, qualifying starts in 45 minutes!"

Lewis groans and collapses on the sofa dramatically. You follow him, lying down on his chest. "You better go. I'll be waiting for you."

As they walk Lewis follows her all the way down to the garage with his eyes glued to her behind, much to her amusement. "Good luck, and drive carefully!" She tells him, poking his chest.

"I promise I will." He reassures her. One last hug and he is off to race. She sits down at her designated seat and follows the session closely.

When Lewis gets out of the car, he has one goal in mind, Y/N. He hurriedly walks into the garage, in search of her. "Y/N, I think someone is searching for you." One of the Mercedes staff whispers to her. When she stands up and turns around, he lays his eyes on her.

He instantly knew this was it. The scene was chaotic, as it tends to be after a racing session, but in Lewis' mind, it was calm, only because of her. His rock. He starts walking up to her slowly, with his helmet in his hand that he shoves into a mechanic's arms.

She sees him slowly approaching and slightly panics. She looked around, everyone was looking at either her or him. His eyes though, were glued on her and only her. When he reaches his destination, he pulls her into his arms, squeezing her in a tight hug.

"I can't breathe..." She eventually breaths out.

"Sorry." He quickly lets her go, looking into her eyes with such admiration, it made the whole garage emotional.

"Pole position baby, congr-" She starts but is interrupted by his soft, plump lips. The feeling of her lips on his was hypnotizing, and Lewis felt his inner roots turning into a tickling glow, the kind that would never go cold.

She could hear the whole world swooning around them, and as they parted, Lewis swooned with them while looking at her. She looked around, and the usually nuzzling garage was still. You would have been able to hear a strand of hair falling. She looks back at him, and offers him a faint smile.

Lewis could tell she was nervous, and he slid his arm around her body in order to calm her down, if only just for the moment.

"Thank you, my love. This is the best day I've had in a long time." He concludes.

[martyr-inthedark]

Favorite Food

Tw: food whump, aftermath of torture, unreliable narrator, unreality

"Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

Whumpee's eyes snapped to look up towards Whumper (not at him, never to look at him).

"S-sorry, sir?" It's best to ask for clarification than to do anything too soon. It was a lesson that caused Whumpee to chip a few too many teeth. Their heart pounded in their ears. It's been so long since they've heard their own name.

"I said," Whumper's fingers tapped the table he was sitting at, and his nose crinkled, "Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

Dread swelled in Whumpee's chest. There was a right answer, surely. They took a breath, a whimper escaping their throat. Did they really have a say? Was this just another trick? A test Whumpee was doomed to fail? There were two options. They could be honest, and risk Whumper ruining another part of their identity. Or, they could lie, and Whumper could punish them for lying (he knew every time, the bastard-).

"Everything okay?" An intense blush filled Whumpee's pale face. Shit. Shit, they took too long. There was a right answer to this riddle. There had to be.

"Sorry, my lord. I am only deserving of what you give me," Whumpee finally choked out. They did not see but rather felt Whumper's eyes fall on their face for the first time all day. They could do nothing under his gaze except tremble on their knees and silently pray for mercy. They sat listening to the gentle 'hmph' from their master.

Whumpee flinched when Whumper stroked their hair, their first sign of affection in a long time. Whumpee wilted into their hand as cold finger tips traced down the side of their head, pushing hair behind their ear, falling down their cheek and finally landing under their chin. Whumpee's lip trembled as their gaze was directed to Whumper's fierce expression.

"Oh, my poor doll," Whumper tsked. Whumpee's new tears followed the same route Whumper's fingers did just moments before. "Whumpee, what is your favorite food?"

"I'm sorry," Whumpee started, mostly to soothe the risk that Whumper was getting frustrated with them, but also to buy themselves a moment to think. They had not thought of their favorite food in so long, after realizing that going home was not an option (anything to ease the pain of loss). Thinking back to a time that felt far away, it came to them, what they missed most. "I'm s-my apologies, sir. Um. I really love... it's hard to pick. Potato soup, or really any soup. Mostly potatoes. Sir."

"That's really interesting." Whumper let go of their chin and their eyes finally fell to their rightful place on the floor.

"Sorry," Whumpee whispered, falling quiet once more. They braced themselves for a bitter insult, a smack on the back of the head, anything, and nothing ever came. They continued to silently cry. What was Whumper going to do? They answered the question. Was it right? The not-knowing was killing them. How could they be good for Master if they didn't know what he wanted?

...

Evening rolled around and Whumper beckoned Whumpee to sit at the table. Dinner had been set, and Whumpee sank into their seat, not wishing to further annoy their master. It wasn't unusual for Whumper to want Whumpee to sit with them. However, it was rare that they had a plate or bowl, and the conversation from earlier still haunted their day. Whumper gestured, and Whumpee lifted the cover off their meal, and—

Potato soup.

Slack-jawed and wide-eyed they dared to look up at Whumper. This wasn't for them, it couldn't be. Whumper had already started eating, and though he had his mouth full, he commanded Whumpee to eat. Tears swelled in their eyes and they shook their head. They weren't supposed to eat until Master was done.

"Whumpee," Whumper warned.

Whumpee flinched. Whumper's chair scraped against the floor as he stood up. Whumpee shuttered at every slow step toward them. Finally, Whumper crouched down below Whumpee, taking their quivering hands.

"Look at me, sweetheart," Whumper said, gently stroking Whumpee's forearm. Whumpee sniffled and did as asked. Whumpee, for the first time all day, saw Caretaker's loving and concerned eyes. "The soup is for you, Whumpee. Just for you. You can eat it, or not eat it. Whenever you want. If you want to wait for me to leave, that is okay. If you want to eat it now, that is okay, too. Your decision is safe here, okay?"

Whumpee nodded, and wept. And they wept hard. No sniffles. No simple tears. They properly wept as Whumper-no-Caretaker pulled their starving frame into a hug.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm so sorry, Caretaker." All Whumpee could do was breathe out the words between sobs. They never felt more broken, more irreparable, than right there in the reality of Caretaker's arms.

"I know, doll, I know. You don't have to be."

"I thought—I must be an awful person—I thought you were him."

"You're okay. You're not in trouble. I'm glad you see me, now. I'm glad you're here."

Whumpee felt sick of themselves. They wished for a day they could wake up in the morning and feel whole. They wished for a day they weren't afraid of blinking wrong. They wished for a day where they could just eat their favorite food and it not be cold from waiting on them to get over their meltdown.