#what would it have been like if Michael actually won?

[im-nothing-like-normal]

That's it.

I'm sick of how bad the writing is in Season 8. Even years later I am bitter that one of the best characters in that season is reduced to a warlock and all the religious themes are kind of just tossed in their half-hazard because no one knew what they wanted.

It was about witches and warlocks.

It was about robots and sci-fi shenanigans.

It was about a boy born at the end of murder house.

No!

It should have just simply been a story on the antichrist and how everyone is doomed to die. It should have been about the life inside a bunker, about not knowing what is going to happen to you or your family. It should have been about Michael Langdon winning and completing the prophecy without any involvement of witches.

Don't get me wrong, I love Coven, but it should not have been involved with Michael's story.

Let's talk about the lure of the antichrist, how he's charming, how he's supposed to become a minister and turn the world to him, how he punishes those who oppose him, how easily one's faith can be squandered when someone claims they are a prophet and proves it.

So thus, despite it being years later, I am going to rewrite that season. I'm talking about dark religious contexts with the horrors of the end times. I'm keeping the setting and the premise, but there will be no drawn-out backstory about magic.

I will be posting it soon. Keep a lookout for it~

[sirfrogsworth]

How do you take a photo of time?

I've been watching the track events at the Olympics since I was a wee lad. It was a tradition in our family. We'd gather around our ancient low-definition 19 inch CRT television and watch tiny blobs compete against other tiny blobs and root for our country.

It was a bit like watching YouTube on your phone in 144p.

Several heroes emerged.

Jackie Joyner-Kersee was amazing.

You can't forget about Flo-Jo.

And then the Olympics decided NBA players were allowed in the competition.

Which formed... The Dream Team.

Was this fair?

Well... they won each game by an average of 44 points.

So... no. It was not fair.

Though it became more fair as time went on.

But, umm... yeah. The other teams looked like the Washington Generals and the US looked like the Harlem Globetrotters if they stopped screwing around half of the game.

But my absolute favorite Olympian was a runner named Michael Johnson.

He was cool as heck.

For one thing... gold shoes.

But he also had this crazy, upright, Tom Cruise-ish sprinting style that just made him look like a running robot on the track.

And in the 1996 Atlanta games he just trounced EVERYONE. I mean, it wasn't even close.

Yikes. Those losing blobs are probably really embarrassed.

Last night I decided to invigorate my nostalgia and watch the track events again. And I got to see one of the wildest races in history.

It didn't even last 10 seconds but it was one of the most exciting sporting events I've ever witnessed. Almost every runner won the race.

After I saw that initially, I was like... who the heck won???

Even in slow motion I wasn't sure.

This was one of the closest finishes in history. There has never been a race where all 8 runners were within this margin.

The arena was silent as the winner was being confirmed. The runners just kind of paced around waiting for official word. My best guess was the Jamaican runner, Kishane Thompson. But then the loudspeaker announced Noah Lyles.

The last tiny morsel of American pride burst out of me with a big "Wooooo!"

I forgot what it was like to be proud of my country. I wish it happened more often. But this young man, despite being last place in the first 3rd of the race, turned on the afterburners and won in a photo finish.

And that's when my inner nerd took over.

Because when they showed the photo finish image, it looked super weird.

Why is the track white?

Why do all of the runners look all warpy like that QWOP game?

So I went down a research rabbit hole to figure this out.

Photo finishes are actually fascinating. The first photo finish captured the end of a horse race in 1890. But that was mostly luck and timing. The actual photo finish mechanisms weren't used until 1937.

Originally they would film the finish line through a physical slit.

And the first horsie head that appeared in that slit would be the winner. This technology ended a huge aspect of corruption in horse race fixing almost overnight.

But we have come a long way since then. And I'd like to introduce you to the Omega Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate.

This slow motion camera sits fixed on the finish line of every race. The concept of the photo finish has remained remarkably similar to the 1930s approach. The camera sensor is specially designed to only record a vertical slit.

Only the finish line itself is actually captured.

And because it limits what it records to only that slit, it can capture 40,000 frames per second to get amazing temporal resolution.

So why don't the photo finishes just look like, well... this?

That is because the camera takes a picture of time more-so than dimensional space. I guess it would be more accurate to say it *assembles* a picture of time.

As the runners cross the finish line, the camera combines all of the little strips of pictures into a single image.

It's almost like if you tried to reassemble a piece of paper after it had been shredded.

Imagine each strip of paper is a picture of ONLY the finish line, just at a slightly different point in time.

What if someone stopped on the finish line and didn't move... what would that look like?

Once they got there, the same part of their body would just be repeated.

So the right side of the photo finish picture represents earlier in time and it just assembles the image strip by strip as time passes and you literally get a picture of time itself.

NEAT!

Okay, but how do they determine the winner from the photo finish?

I mean, that shoe looks like it is ahead of Noah Lyles!

Clavicles!

The IAFF rules state the foremost part of the torso must cross the finish line first. And the endpoint of the torso is the outer end of the clavicle.

So if you get this bone across the finish line first, you win the race.

Two more fun facts!

The start of the race is actually just as carefully timed as the end of the race. There are sensors in the starting blocks of each runner.

The starting gun also has an electronic sensor.

They have determined the fastest a human can react to the sound of a gun is roughly 100 milliseconds. So if you start running before 100 milliseconds they know you didn't actually hear the gun, you just got antsy and started running too early.

And the final fun fact...

Did you notice the Omega logo at the top of the photo finish?

That isn't superimposed or added after the fact. That is captured by the camera.

But if this image is composed only of tiny little slivers, how did they get the Omega logo to show up?

That is a little display. And it is synchronized with the Scan 'O' Vision Ultimate to show a little sliver of the Omega logo for each frame captured.

So when the final image is stitched together, it looks like a cohesive logo at the top of the photo.

Pretty clever, Omega!

[colleendoran]

I was curious how you manage to keep features consistent when you draw them? Do you use models? Is there a model for Crowley? He is very handsome.

I don't use models per se, but I sometimes keep files of photos or art that resembles the subject.

Crowley is based a bit on the French actor Alain Delon who was once considered the handsomest man in the world. He doesn't look exactly like Delon, but that is in my head when I draw him. I recall reading Neil and Mr. Pratchett once considered Peter Sellers for Crowley.

There is no reference for Aziraphale because he is entirely in my head and I can't really find anyone who looks exactly the way he does. I recall reading that Neil and Mr. Pratchett thought of Brian Dennehy at one point, but my head canon Aziraphale won. I think a Brian Dennehy Aziraphale would have been amazing, though. Anyway, he is actually kind of hard for me to draw because his facial structure is a bit outside my usual style. His face is a bit long and his eyes closer together than I normally do, and if I'm not careful, he slips away. He appears younger and more classically handsome as an angel than he does in his corporeal form, but I think he's quite fetching as a bookseller.

Michael Sheen is so perfect in this role it is really hard not to leak bits of his performance into the graphic novel edition, but I have to resist the impulse. I am not allowed to use any of the show actors as models.

I adore Michael Sheen. Who doesn't?

Adam is also a head canon character. He is a perfect young Greek God, so that's kind of drawing on a day with a Y in it for me.

The inspiration for Newt I'm keeping a secret. I submitted a number of sketches for Newt. The show Newt dug in deep and I had a hard time shaking him off.

The Them are based on kids I knew. They're in my head, I don't need any photos. They don't really look like the kinds in the show. The book version of Pepper, for example, is a freckled red-head.

Anathema is an amalgam of features that don't come from one person, which I think fits the description of the character. She's also unusual for me to draw but she's easier to draw than Aziraphale. I nail her every time.

Hastur is a caricature of the stereotypical English upper class you'd see in broadsheets 200 years ago. I have a file of pictures of Anthony Ashley-Cooper, 7th Earl of Shaftesbury for Hastur. I considered making Hastur more handsome in a Duke of Hell sort of way, but I think Hastur likes to be scary. I keep thinking of Peter O'Toole when I draw Hastur, too.

I feel kind of bad basing Hastur on Lord Ashley because he was a wonderful person and I'm sure he didn't go to Hell.

Ligur is a broad caricature of Danny Devito. I obviously can't use a DeVito portrait. That would be wrong. But I can tweak from there and come up with a general idea of the face I want to use.

Beelzebub and Metatron are head canon, and don't look a thing like they do in the show. I postulate some demons prefer to look like their angelic selves, and at other times prefer to be fearsome. Crowley can look fearsome when he wants, for example. In the book, Beelzebub appears as a young man in red flames.

Shadwell was drawn from reference at the direct suggestion of Neil.

Madame Tracy is based on a certain person, but no one you would have heard of. The original source might not be flattered, but I love Madam Tracy. She's really easy to draw because she's a bit over the top. I'm sketching around her scenes right now because I don't have final approval on some things yet. So she might need some changes later.

War is head canon, very easy to draw. She's a knockout. No reference required.

Famine looks a lot like Famine in the show, actually, but that's what Famine always looked like, pretty much. Except he has the grey eyes he has in the book.

Pollution is initially described as being a forgettable white guy, but later described as looking like a romantic poet, which strikes me as being memorable. Because he's only on one page in his forgettable white guy phase, I chose not to make major changes in his appearance between those panels and later when he appears as his true self, because that's a bit more confusing than it needs to be in the graphic novel edition. He's rather glamorous as the essence of Pollution, though. No reference needed.

Dog is a dog.

While I do give every detail a lot of thought, I am sure other people have other opinions. I understand that, and hope you enjoy what I do anyway.

Thanks for your question.

I'm still a bit under the weather, so may be stepping away from the net for awhile so I can concentrate on work. I have a lot of sick time to make up.

But don't think I don't appreciate your interest in the Good Omens graphic novel adaptation. Your wonderful support is acting on me like a tonic, let me tell you.

[o-sachi]

Do a Somersalt ! ‧₊˚ ⋅ Blue Lock Chars. (Request)

ଳ how would the blue lock boys react to a gymnast s/o who is muscular? ଳ characters; isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, chigiri hyoma, michael kaiser, shidou ryusei ଳ tags; floof, afab reader, no y/n

ᯓ Isagi Yoichi

"You're going to the gym? Can I come too?"

The man is absolutely mesmerized by you. The way you look alone never fails to amaze him. But when you're in your element? He's definitely somewhere—melting into a puddle after witnessing your moves.

An absolute sucker for your muscles, especially the thighs. He'll poke at 'em, squish 'em, and lay his head on 'em.

He will always always always ask to watch your competitions. It's only fair that he provide moral support for you since you do the same for his football games. Hell—even if it's just practice, he'll try to come and watch you anyway.

He loves the way you look, but a small part of him wants to be more muscular as well because he thinks he'd embarrass you if he wasn't as lean as you :(

"Hey, what would you think if I were more muscular?" / "Hmm, I'd be pretty proud, but you look great as you are." / "Be for real." / "I am being for real though?"

Doesn't really dwell on that thought. It's more of a fleeting one if anything. He's more preoccupied about admiring you anyway.

ᯓ Bachira Meguru

"How the fuck did you flip like that? I wanna do it too."

Expect him to hound you about teaching him all your "cool" moves. He'll ask about the complicated ones even though both of you know that he won't be doing that with just an explanation, a demo, and a prayer.

Bachira's quite flexible though, so you do manage to teach him some stuff. He was SO ecstatic the first time he was able to do a move that you two had been going over for an hour.

"Babe, I think I'm ready to do a double back salto tucked with a triple twist." / "Okay, first of all, even I can't do that... and two, how do you know that?" / "There's this little thing called 'the internet'?"

He's not really one to be too observant of what body type his s/o has, but he'll always compliment your muscles.

The way his face lights up when both of you find out you can lift him up like a baby is priceless. It may or may not be the reason why he loves your muscles so much...

ᯓ Nagi Seishiro

"Ah... can you carry me back? What? I'm not that heavy..."

Nagi loves your muscles. They're firm, but they make good pillows. He says he falls asleep faster when he's in your arms or when his head is resting on your lap.

Another reason is because you can give him piggyback rides. Sure, he's more than 6 feet tall and still weighs more than you, but you suck it up and try to lift him anyway.

He's so in awe of all the moves that you do on the bars or on the floor. If he's watching you compete, he's most likely thinking about how much of a hassle those moves are.

"Don't you get tired of swinging around like that? Looks tough." / "You know that football matches are 90 minutes long, right?" / "...I know and I hate running for that long."

After both of your trainings, he'll invite you to take a long ass nap in the ac and under the comfiest blanket ever. It's impossible to say no to him.

ᯓ Reo Mikage

"Hey, your video got 500 likes already—as expected."

He pretty much has documented your entire career with how many pictures and videos he has taken of you training or performing. He has his own archive for your competitions too.

"Baby, there is no such thing as too much when it comes to you." / "Um... actually—" / "Shhh... shh..."

You two have the same trainer, nutritionist, manager—everything. He'll introduce you to his team that keeps him in tip-top shape for football so that you can be your best self in gymnastics too.

If he's unable to attend a competition of yours, he'll send someone to watch and record it for him.

Of course, he'll make it up by throwing an epic celebration for you regardless if you won or not. Reo will shower you with endless praise.

ᯓ Chigiri Hyoma

"The judges don't know what the fuck they're doing, honestly."

He's like... such a mom when he comes to watch your competitions. He'll be sitting in the audience—both amazed and a bit worried when you do risky moves.

When the judges score lower than what he expects, he'll start muttering under his breath about how stupid they are and that you deserve WAAAY higher.

The biggest hype man ever. It doesn't matter if you won or lost—he'll always express his admiration for you. If you did win, he'll celebrate the heck out of it with you. But if you lost, he'll reassure you and still celebrate for the effort you put in.

He likes choosing your leotard and hairstyle for you. When you give him the liberty to do so, the biggest smile appears on his face.

"Hmm... this purple one looks good, but I like the red one too." / "Hyoma, you know I'm only going to practice, right?" / "I know, I know."

ᯓ Michael Kaiser

"I only got into it because of you, y'know?"

He will shamelessly ogle your muscles. It's one thing that they look great. But it's another to know that you put in tons of hard work and discipline into building that kind of body. And he respects that quite a lot.

His knowledge of gymnastics when you first started dating was little to none. But suddenly he's so into it now. He watches other gymnasts' routines and learns the common moves and rules in competitions.

Mihya acts lowkey about it, but he feels a sense of pride seeing you happy when the two of you get to talk about the thing you love the most. It'll start of with him initiating the topic, then you'll just rant until you're tired. He won't complain though.

He felt like his heart was sucked right out of his chest when he saw your outfit for a certain competition. It was a black and blue leotard with blue roses on it. You swore his eyes watered a bit, but apparently it was just the wind...

"Well... you look great." / "Are you crying?" / "Huh? Crying? Psh. You're literally seeing things." / "Okay, Gaslighter3000."

ᯓ Shidou Ryusei

"Heh, wanna bet who can do more flips in a minute?"

He's actually glad that you're strong and muscular because it means he doesn't have to hold back as much. Also, he's just into the whole muscle mommy thing. Yes, he's that guy.

Shidou knows you can do pretty amazing things which, of course, leads to the most bizarre hypotheticals and bets ever.

"Babe, do you think you could flip off of that ledge?" / "Seriously. Look at it. It's like twice your height and it's all cement." / "Oh so then you're lame? I bet I could do that."

As much as you'd love to bring him to competitions... he just gets too excited (not that kind of excited). He'll start shouting and cheering you to the point that everyone will be looking at him.

His phone's storage is like 70% videos of you performing moves or you training. He finds it adorable when you're putting in work and doing things that can blow people away.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[bowtiepastabitch]

Here's the deal on the Good Omens limbo situation. My optimistic and analytic two cents, if you will.

If we look at this through a capitalistic lens, the chances of the show being cancelled are pretty slim at the moment. Think for a moment about the top three amazon prime originals that you pay/keep the platform for. Can you think of three? I honestly can't, not off the top of my head. I know I'm not really the target audience for streaming services, since I don't watch a lot of new shows, but still. I can name plenty of netflix shows I like/might watch. That's why Netflix can cancel anything and everything so easy. They don't have just one or two fandom cash cows.

Amazon, though, doesn't have a lot. Here's a list of all their original shows. I only even recognize 8 titles. I've only actually watched 2. Plus, Good Omens is currently one of the biggest fandoms in fandom right now, with Aziracrow being the top ship on ao3 for the Jan-Dec 2023 wrap up and again on the Summer 2024 leaderboard, as well as the top ship on tumblr and Good Omens as the top tv show (plus second overall after Artists on Tumblr) for 2023. We're a big deal, and I'd bet money that they're betting money on us. I also lowkey think we're the reason Amazon is spending money on a british miniseries starring Michael Sheen tbh but that's just speculation. The show has also won a slew of awards, the same of which cannot, to my knowledge, be said of many of their other properties.

So let's talk production changes; I think there's a good chance they're doing this for the same reason. Our fandom had unique access to the creator via tumblr, and a majority of the conversation around the allegations of SA against Gaiman were and are taking place in fandom spaces. There have been petitions to fire him from the show and conversations (both productive and otherwise) about the duties of fandom when engaging with content connected to problematic individuals. Meanwhile, Gaiman has effectively dissappeared from the internet. Additionally, the video and threads sharing that Terry Pratchett wrote most of the original book have been making the rounds here and I think on the bird app(?). All that to say, if they're betting on us they want to make us happy and keep their good PR. I don't ever expect a major corporation to make a "good" decision, but they will always make the profitable one.

There is, of course, also the matter of the Pratchett estate and the other major players in the matter: the actors, directors, and creative team. These are forces at play with the power to block or stall productivity and profit for Amazon through copyright and labor power. I can imagine there's conversations happening backstage that we don't know about as well as what we see in headlines.

Ultimately, I think the biggest risk to season 3 is unfortunately going to be Neil Gaiman himself and how he responds to the situation at hand. If he steps back quietly, we're living in our best case scenario and everything moves forward as much according to plan as can be expected with at least this small justice being served. I see a hissy fit on his end as the greatest potential wrench in proceedings, but that would exacerbate the (currently quiet in the mainstream) bad PR for him so I give it low odds.

All that to say. From a pragmatic viewpoint, Amazon's best interest seems to be entirely tied to ours as a fandom, and I anticipate Season 3 being made and most likely being only minorly delayed. Either way. What happens behind the scenes in corporate office buildings between rich white men is entirely out of my and your control. I know how huge anxiety can get when it relates to a special interest or a community that has a huge role in your life, and whatever happens we're in this together as a fandom. It's going to be alright. Take a deep breath and maybe get some water. Whatever happens, we're in this together as a fandom, and at least it won't be the end of the world;)

[vidavalor]

This is the face of an angel who just realized that his oppressors are afraid of him and his friends because, together, they are a force that threatens the regime.

This is the face of an angel that just realized all of this Metatron nonsense is to separate them and keep him-- the best strategist-- from starting a revolution. If they are split up, The Second Coming goes off without a hitch... but if Aziraphale unites them, then Heaven will fall. Crowley & Aziraphale alone are enough trouble together to stop Armageddon. Crowley & Aziraphale with the eons-long leaders and commanders of Heaven and Hell in Gabriel and Beezelbub, though? That is a coup.

How little would it take to overthrow it all at this point? How long until it's Crowley & Aziraphale & Gabriel & Beez... & Muriel & Eric & Furfur? How til they get Michael and Dagon on their side? How long until it's actually most of the demons and a sizable portion of the angels teaming up against what's left of Heaven?

Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. Aziraphale took the coffee. The Metatron thinks it means subservience. He thinks it means he's tricked Aziraphale and that he's won and he was almost right, so is the level of trauma these beings have suffered. He didn't know, though, that coffee is already coded as liberty. He handed Aziraphale a cup of symbolic freedom and didn't realize how so very true that was going to be. Just like a certain empire once did when they gave some of their people the option to form some colonies, thinking that the empire would always remain in control, and now we call those colonies not part of Great Britain but The United States of America.

"Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks leap out"-- the Job quote on the matchbox. The matchbox containing the fly, containing Gabriel via Beez. Out of Gabriel's mouth goes burning lamps-- Gabriel lights the way. He's the path forward. He is first shots fired in the rebellion...

...and sparks leap out.

Some Boston Tea Party stuff afoot, you guys.

That is the face of an angel that just realized that he and Crowley were both wrong: the solution isn't running away but it's also not taking over a broken system that doesn't want to be fixed... it's fanning the spark that Gabriel lit into a flame and then into an inferno and burning this entire mother to the ground.

Aziraphale is no longer headed to Heaven to run it.

He's headed to Heaven to *overthrow* it.

He's headed to Heaven to *liberate* it.

No idea how much of a chance he will get to succeed alone but this is Aziraphale. He will give them hell if it's the last thing he ever does-- for Muriel and all the angels like them. For all the persecuted demons. For the humans Heaven wants to destroy. For Gabriel.

Most of all, for what they did to Crowley and the 6,000 years of fear and pain they've put them through.

That is the face of an angel who just realized that he had almost been drawn back into Heaven's web of darkness again, only to hear that Heaven wants him to oversee the destruction of 8 billion people and the Earth he calls home and the stars the love of his life built and he has reached his absolute last remaining straw.

They've taken his home and hurt his friends and they took *Crowley* and at this point, Aziraphale no longer gives one flying fuck what it might be that God wants because God can go fuck herself if this it is. The elevator scene is Aziraphale saying Crowley was right:

That angel is *untethered* with barely controlled rage. They nearly played him for a sucker. He might die doing this and they fooled him and he broke Crowley's heart and they've taken too. Fucking. Much. It's just utter destruction. There will be no system of Heaven and Hell done when Aziraphale is through with it.

Aziraphale is about to go from not sure if he should stop Armageddon in S1 to being the angel that destroys the system of Heaven and Hell in S3.

Yes, you can save everyone, Aziraphale, but not alone. You need Crowley's imagination and Gabriel's leadership and Beez's intelligence. That's what they're afraid of. You finally got it in that elevator, so get up there now, get your gang back together, and make some trouble.

[sargeantposting]

Logan: And I couldn't thank my mechanic enough. And also my parents, uh, they really helped me to be able to win the world championship and it’s just an amazing feeling.  Interviewer: I mean, did you, did you, what did you do when you found out you won? Did you call your friends at home? Did you phone your grandpa? What did you get up to?  Logan: Uh, no, I just gave my mom and dad a really big hug. Interviewer: Is it still sinking in now?  Logan: Yeah, it's, it's a really emotional thing. [full transcript continues below cut]

Interviewer: I can imagine. I can imagine. You said that your mechanic Scott and also your driver Coach Gary really helped you along the way. How did, how did they do that?  Logan: Um, well, my driver coach Gary, he helped me a lot. Of course, he manages everything and he always keeps me calm before the races and just makes sure I'm always at my best. And Scott, of course, he always just makes sure the cart is perfect, make sure all the tire pressures are good and yeah, that's about it.  Interviewer: What's the difference before you get into the race? You said he keeps you calm and then when you put your helmet and you're actually sitting in the car. How do you feel? What's the difference?  Logan: Well, until the engines start, it's a bit, it was, it was a bit nerve wracking. But once the engines start, you forget about everything and you're ready.  Interviewer: And do you, do you just believe that you can beat all of your fellow races because sometimes some of those races there's like 90 odd other kids aren't there? Logan: Yeah, that weekend I was feeling really confident because I had been quick the whole week and I had won the pre-final. So I, yes, I did believe I could win.  Interviewer: Tell me about when you were a little bit younger than you are now. You're only 14 now. But why racing, why, why is this so important to you?  Logan: Um, well, my dad bought me a, a racing kart when I was five years old and we started from there. We thought it would just be like a little hobby and, uh, it ended up becoming like a professional thing we did. So. Interviewer: So, so was there a moment when you, when you or your dad just thought ‘Wow, I'm quick. I can do this’?  Logan: Um, well, not really. We just kept progressing and then, um, when we, when we decided to come to Europe to race, um, we moved to Switzerland and from then on we were just, uh, going to school, I started going to school in Switzerland. And, yeah, and then we just kept going and then ended up like this.  Interviewer: Do you have any other hobbies? Can you fit anything else in?  Logan: Um, well, other than school it's really hard. But when I get my breaks and I go back to Florida for, um, I like to go fishing a lot and, yeah, that's what I do. Mostly.  Interviewer: Nice, nice and relaxing. Schumacher, Vettel and Senna are just some of your idols, aren't they? What is it about them that you love?  Logan: Uh, just like the legacy that they've built and how, how good they were.  Interviewer: So, is that what you want to achieve?  Logan: Yeah, definitely.  Interviewer: Where do you want to go from here?  Logan: Um, well, next year I'll be racing in KF and then after that I'll try and make my way to Formula One.  Interviewer: And do you think if you achieved getting to Formula One, do you think you could match maybe Lewis Hamilton or Sebastian Vettel's four titles or even Michael's?  Logan: Well, we're far away away from that. But, um, hopefully, yeah, we'll see.  Interviewer: You must think about it though. Teenagers always think about stuff like this, don't they?  Logan: Yeah, of course. But it's a long way away. So I, I'm just focused on next year.  Interviewer: Well, we wish you lots of luck for next year and well done. Logan: Thank you very much.

[yakuza-emulation]

Smile for the picture, boys!

(Click on the photo for better quality)

All featuring my versions of the tormentors! All of whom are “existing” characters that I repurposed because I thought it would be fun, and why not give some light to more of my favoured Fazbear Frights characters. (I might get flack for some of these from those who do like the characters, but I love them too!)

For more on that, check under the cut! :D

Foxy Bully, also known as Michael Afton

The tried and true FNAF guy, ‘twas his brother killed and his father who did the killing. Overall, it’s a decent way to view the story, and doesn’t make my head explode (like goddamn robot children). Furthermore, the Security Logbook has a section where you’re tasked remember as a child “what prizes would you want to see behind the prize counter”, and Mike draws himself with a mullet, tank-top, shorts, and bracelets. So that’s good enough for me lol

Bonnie Bully, also known as Oscar Avila

The first of the tormentors who is kinda out there! There is the popular theory that he is Jeremy Fitzgerald, considering FNAF’s obsession with Jeremy’s and bunny paraphernalia; but Oscar also has a relation to bunnies (Plushtrap chaser)! It kinda works, and the skin tone itself was inspired by @namedoggo ‘s version of Oscar (which is super cool, please check it out!)

I also like to think he is Cassie’s father, because it kinda checks out, but I’m deciding to be oblivious to other current revelations within the community.

Freddy Bully, aka Alec Renner

Speaking of revelations, this character is full of them! Freddy bully is such a hot topic because there are so many people he can be (Jeremy Fitzgerald, Mr. Renner (Tales from the Pizzaplex), Oswald’s Dad), but I thought Alec would be a cool idea because of the whole Lonely Freddy Bodyswap occurrence and that he canonically favours Yarg Foxy. Furthermore, this was kinda tail-ended by the Ao3 fic, “I am Machine” by Hideaway_In_The_Imagination_World or @hideawaysplace on Tumblr. Wherein which Alec was friends with Oscar in the past.

I kinda also tied in Mr. Renner with Alec’s last name (because he doesn’t have one. It made me frustrated for a while), because in Tales from the Pizzaplex, the elementary principal is described as having a Freddy mask and his eyes leak oil? (I don’t actually have the tales books yet, I’m waiting until the box set releases until I get it. So all my info on this guy is limited to the several fandom wikis)

I don’t really want to tie in Oswald’s father, but Alec does have a sister, so Hazel could have the mask? Or Oswald’s dad could’ve just won it as a prize, not everyone who has a mask has to be the bully themself. (Which is ironic for Mr. Renner, but eh.))

Chica Bully, aka Sam O’Neil

Probably the most out there, but this character is practically never talked about with fan theories (for gods sake, literally everyone else in the squad has been theorized to be Jeremy Fitzgerald at some point (including fucking Michael at one point because of his multiple aliases), EXCEPT FOR HIM..?). Furthermore, it was kinda difficult to pick a good character for him, as I wanted to make it so the tormentors have some relation to the character they had the mask of. I really enjoyed Blackbird when I read it, and when I read it the first time, I thought Sam admitted to actually being a bully years before the story itself (he just got back at bullies, but the point still stands). Regardless, why not :)

[vettelsdarling]

Okay so if it's okay I have a seb (rbr seb to be precise) request. We all know rbr seb was a menace, chaos lover and flirty (we all love him for that) so enemies to lovers (at least one sided because I have no doubt this man while loving by all grid also hated by some) with seb would be amazing... Imagine all the tension 🫣🫣 but happy ending of course because nowadays I need my healthy dosage of fluff with a bit of angst sprinkle 💗🙏🏻

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

Lissie note… I am SO happy someone finally requested Seb<3 An enemies to lovers too!!! This prompt is pure gold! Really love the one-sided touch too. Thank you!!!

Things to note

This is set to start in late 2010 and progress from there on (only until Seb’s last year at rbr)

Accuracy to real driver standings will be off due to the reader insert

Michael did not get in any accident here<3

Reader is 22 and Sebastian is 23

Reader is with Mercedes, driving alongside Michael (put him instead of Rosberg because Michael knows Seb better. You’ll get it when you read)

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Mercedes!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, a little bit of cursing

Word Count: 6.4k+

Playlist Recommendations: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟💗, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭💔, 𝐒𝐕𝟓

Taglist: @drugged-kitkat , @darleneslane

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

A master of your art. That’s what you liked to think of yourself as. You weren’t driven by fame or money. Rather the excitement of the rush. The feeling of hitting each apex just right— you relished in it. If there was one thing you really were driven by, however; it was winning a championship. You’d won a few races in your career and had your national anthem played for everyone to hear, but no more of that. Your sole goal was to receive the title above all other titles.

Your dreams of such were cut short by one Red Bull driver. Sebastian Vettel. You sat there at the prize-giving ceremony, waiting for Formula One racers to be called up. Michael sat next to you with Corinna. She gave you a sympathetic smile, knowing you missed out on the championship and landed 2nd overall.

Michael claimed Sebastian meant no ill will. He was just young and spirited. You begged to differ. The smirk he’d give you after winning a race begged to differ. His whole… shtick… begged to differ.

Alonso was called on stage to receive his award for landing 3rd, which meant that you had to be ready to receive yours too. You brushed down the sides of your dress, asking Corrina if you looked okay. She seemed surprised you’d even ask such a question but reassured you with a smile and a nod.

When your name was called, a thump in your heart reached the base of your throat. Podium celebrations were one thing, but the prize-giving was an entirely different thing altogether.

Although it was supposed to be a celebration, all you saw was a sea of pitiful glances. Most people knew of your unfortunate position, though many were too afraid to comment on it.

“Sebastian Vettel” Oh the great Sebastian Vettel! World’s youngest champion yet! That could’ve been you. Easily. You hated the thought of not being there on the highest step. The young German gave you a wink before he received his massive trophy. You were in front of hundreds of people and the ceremony was being taped, so you did nothing but smile and seem grateful.

Sure, you were actually grateful for receiving anything at all, but it all seemed like pity. All that was left was to throw your own pity party with a pint of Pinot and a sad romance movie.

The interviews were a nightmare. Every single one of them kept trying to sell you their act. All the while the questions surrounded your relationship with Sebastian. One of undoubted hate for one another. At least on your side.

You didn’t even bother going back to the hotel. The after-party was the one thing you actually looked forward to. The booze, mainly. Anything to drown out your sorrows, really. Oh, how you despised all the small gestures people did for you as an act of congratulating you. Your mixed feelings nearly slapped the vodka shot out of a waitress’ hand. You were a menace in this state.

“Easy on those shots, you came here alone. Wouldn’t want to go home too wasted.” A voice came up behind you.

“Well, that’s a little too late, Hamilton.” His look was that of genuine concern. He knew what you were doing. He knew exactly what that vodka was for.

“You’ll get him next time. At least you’re on the podium, right?” Great. Even one of your closest friends started to pity you.

“Fuck off, would you?” Luckily, he was very understanding and didn’t take any of your words to heart. He got out of your way and went to socialize. That’s when the coin fell. You were alone. He was right. You had no means of getting home. Taxis were rare in that part of town, and your hotel was far away. You were really in a pile of shit.

“Whatever,” you mumbled to yourself and one-shotted a sipping whiskey. It burned your throat with vigour and surged through your body like a pest.

Completely wasted, you felt extremely hot. It didn’t cross your mind to take a breather outside. No, instead, you slowly pulled the sleeve of your dress down. With your shoulder exposed, you could only chase that relief of cool air.

That attempt? Cut short. By none other than Sebastian Vettel. Perhaps a championship in interference would serve him well. He stopped you and pulled your sleeve back up. It felt like an insult. Another jab that he wanted to throw your way.

“Fuck off and let me do my thing,” you kept aimlessly pulling at your sleeve. The feat was just as great as your races against him.

“Stop it. You’re drunk.”

“Wow, I hadn’t noticed. You want another trophy for that discovery?” The friction against the soft satin of your dress eventually made it tear. Both of you froze before you got up and b-lined towards the exit. Anything to get away from him. You pushed through the masses of people in the club and eventually got outside.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rip your dress.” Much to your misfortune, the constant bother had followed you outside.

“You’ve already ruined more than just my dress. Must you ruin the rest of my night too?” You looked him deep in the eyes. You didn’t even have to act like you’d given up— because you most definitely had. No question.

“I’m about to make your night bearable if you’ll let me.” He took off his blazer and wrapped it around you, so you wouldn’t catch a cold in your skimpy dress. You hated the sentiment. You hated his whole “holier than thou” personality. Why? Because it was for show. He was nothing but a monster. He was behind many of your crashes and never gave you any space. You resented him for his quirky little stunts.

“Whatever, youngest world champion.” You couldn’t help but scoff at the title. He had played foul to win it. That title should’ve been yours, but no. Sebastian Vettel stole your glory.

“Come on, don’t be like that. At least value your own well-being. Let’s just get you a coffee to sober up with. You can curse me out as much as you want in the morning.” He tried to guide you forward, but you hunched over and up came all of your vodka shots. He held your hair back as you emptied out the contents of your stomach. It was revolting. You felt disgusting.

“I sure hope I won’t see you in the morning— let alone tomorrow.” Not exactly the toughest thing to say when you’re coughing for your life.

“You won’t even remember this, you know?”

“Makes it better. Then I don’t have to remember how I actually spent more than 10 minutes alone with you.” You were still hunched over, but the snarkiness in your voice triumphed that.

“You really dislike me, don’t you?” He chuckled.

“Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.”

The Red Bull champion ended up being right. You had completely forgotten about the exchange. Someone had hailed you a taxi and you’d drunkenly gotten yourself to your hotel room. That’s how you remembered it. You were still bitter about the ceremony and Sebastian’s selfish attitude. Sure, you’d expect nothing less from a racer, especially in Formula One, but he was a different kind of heartless. He mocked you. He didn’t care if he hurt you on track. That was your own fault.

Sebastian Vettel was your sworn enemy.

The media had become desensitized to your drama with him, as something always happened at every race. It was impossible to not argue with the guy. All he cared about was winning and he wasn’t in the sport to make friends. It was almost as if he wanted to be hated. You simply couldn’t understand how he and Lewis managed to get along. They somehow managed to separate their work from their friendship. You had that relationship with most of the grid, but Sebastian was too unsportsmanlike for your taste. Michael always tried to reason with you, often softening the blow of some of Vettel’s words, saying he “didn’t mean it” or was “just worked up”. You looked up to Michael, but you could never back that. It was bull. Sebastian had no redeeming qualities. He was overly flirtatious and aggressive. You hated that.

Every interview he had with a woman was met with his flirty remarks and his devious smile. You always had to sit there and soak in his gloating. He was insufferable.

“I really don’t see what the problem is. He’s just really obsessed with his career, no?” You had invited your friend out for brunch before your plane. The first race of the season was in Australia. Mark Webber’s home race. A challenge for Sebastian. Mark was tired of his teammate. Much like yourself. You could smell a possible truce. Although that’d be foul play. Unsportsmanlike of you. Were you going to be the bigger person? Of course. You were mature.

“He makes me want to crash my car into his. I should definitely do that in Australia.” You were not mature.

“You don’t mean that. Besides, it’s not even that deep. You don’t have to make something big out of the rush he gets from being in the moment. Don’t you also cuss at your engineer from time to time?” She had a valid point, but it went into one ear and straight out the other. You loved her to death, but she was spewing nonsense.

“Sebastian is an asshole. That’s the bottom line. Whose side are you on anyway?!” You scolded. She twirled her fork in the pasta and let out a faint chuckle.

“Of course, I’m on your side… but you can’t lie. Sebastian is cute.” It was official. Your friend was possessed.

“In what world? I told you about his dirty tricks. How is he still cute?” He was the devil in disguise. Some drivers were able to see it, but most were gullible enough to even befriend him. Your hatred didn’t come from a place of jealousy. It came from a place of being cast aside because of him. Time and time again. It was tiring, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The Mercedes car wasn’t nearly as fast as Red Bull. You desperately wanted it to be.

“Whatever. What I’m saying is, maybe he’s not all that bad off-track.” Oh, but he was. His flirtatious behaviour off-track was nearly as bad as his insufferable one on track. You couldn’t stand it.

“He is. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Your friend drove you to the jet and the two of you exchanged a few hugs and whatnot. She wished you good luck before you got on.

Inside, you saw many familiar faces. Michael being one of them. He pointed to the seat across from his own and signalled for you to sit. When you did, he leaned forward and you could already tell he was going to talk about your least favourite driver again. For whatever reason, he was set on trying to change your mind. “Seb is not a bad person”, “He’s just young and hot-headed”, and “He doesn’t know any better”… all of those excuses meant nothing to you. Sebastian was just that; a dirty driver.

“So, let’s find a way to beat him this year, yes?” You were taken aback. He never said something like that. Sure, he’d console you and help you through your sorrows of finishing behind Vettel, but he was always neutral. Never on either “side”. Though he did tend to seem like he was on Sebastian’s.

“We’re in a Mercedes. I don’t see any way for us. It’s just straight down on the charts. I mean, will I even be able to land a podium this year? I heard McLaren have been pulling their weight for this year. Like… a lot.” Michael contemplated what to say for a moment, but tried to console you nonetheless. He was a father, so he’d gotten quite good at that.

“We can still put up a good fight, right?”

“I suppose.” You could only hope for a miracle. Christian Horner was unrelenting with his new golden boy, Sebastian. The Red Bulls were unstoppable. You had no other choice but to follow Michael’s spirit. Just put up a good fight.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

It was practice day. You were getting ready, suiting up, and seating yourself in the car. Your heart was beating fast. It had been a while since you last sat in a real car. You’d done your fair share of sim racing whilst on break, but it was nothing compared to the real deal.

“Good luck,” your engineer clapped your helmet before you were released. The car felt surprisingly great. It was smooth and you felt like it synced well with your driving style.

Then came Sebastian. Again. He sped past you. Although you couldn’t see him, you just knew he was smirking behind that helmet of his. He relished in your mental torment. It was his source of amusement.

You finished P3. Lewis finished P2 and Sebastian, yet again, finished P1. It was only the first round of practice though. You promised yourself that you’d do everything in your power to finish P1 in the qualifying session.

You didn’t keep your promise. You fell short and landed a finishing spot at P2. Devastating, but your team was happy you got a front-row start anyway. Whenever the interviews finished, you tried to find Michael. Only to see him chatting with him. They were having a laugh— joking around. The sight made you furious. Again, not in jealousy, but the sheer thought that Michael fell for Sebastian’s shtick.

“Hey, Michael. Could we talk? There’s something about the car.” The interjection was abrupt and one might even call it rude, but did you care? Absolutely not. You had no reason to whatsoever. It was Vettel after all.

“Actually, I was just saying goodbye to Sebastian. Corinna is waiting for me outside. How about you tell me tomorrow? Maybe talk to the engineers too. Anyways, see you guys!” Just great. You sighed as you watched your teammate leave.

“That’s some rejection,” said the German standing next to you. Ugh. Wrong German.

“What do you want?”

“Let’s grab coffee sometime soon.” What? You were used to his flirty remarks being directed at the interviewers and whatnot… but this?

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Unbelievable. He was unbelievable. You scoffed and put your hand in front of his face before walking off. Giving him the satisfaction of an answer wasn’t exactly your style, and it wouldn’t ever be.

“You didn’t say no!” He yelled from behind you. Ignoring him, you made a turn so that you’d disappear from his sight. His presence was exhausting and downright draining.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

“Box box,” said your engineer. You were on hards and chasing Sebastian who was on hards as well. It made no sense to pit after a mere 23 laps.

“Are you sure? I’ve got a good chance here. I don’t think it’s time. We didn’t discuss this.” The original plan was to pit when Sebastian would, and it seemed like he was going to do a one-stop.

“We’re sure. You need to get on mediums. We just switched Michael too. Get in.” You sighed and got ready to slow down in the pit lane. It was painful to see Sebastian take the win like that. P1 felt like a distant dream for you at that point.

“This better work. I swear, this better fucking work.” You were beyond frustrated about your current position in P8. The pit stop had taken longer than expected, making you lag a few places behind. Oh, how you couldn’t stand the idea of Sebastian rubbing his victory in your face. His first victory of the season.

You upped your game, completing smooth overtake after smooth overtake. All the way up until you regained your position right behind the Red Bull. There was a slight problem though. The car was starting to feel unusually hot. Sweat trickled down your face and the visor looked as if it was raining. You weren’t going to report rain though, as you knew your team would if there was any.

“Fuck, guys, it’s too hot!” You yelled over the radio. As expected, all your engineer replied with was a simple “copy”. It was swift communication, you knew that, but it sure as hell was frustrating. It felt like you weren’t getting any attention at all.

Your team performed pit stops rather quickly, which was a plus whereas everything else was a minus. It didn’t cancel out, but at least it helped combat some of the other problems your car had.

As most had predicted though, you were unable to overtake Sebastian or his new nickname “the finger”, and were stuck in P2. You couldn’t even enjoy the podium celebration. Sure, you sprayed some champagne and chugged a bit, but did you enjoy it? Not particularly. Michael had told you to not worry and just give it your all, but it was hard to forget when Vettel was in the way. His smug grin as he held his trophy and stuck his pointer in the air… you wanted to crush his ego. So bad. You were going to relish in the moment when Sebastian would lose out on a championship. It was going to be an unforgettable moment to be sure.

“You can’t be satisfied, can you?” Sebastian came up to you after the celebration. He was the last person you wanted to see at that moment, but his gloating was inevitable. Might as well get it over with.

“Not by you, I can’t.”

“You must know how that sounds.” Yeah, you were going to lose your mind. He successfully pulled off a tasteless and baseless trap. You walked straight into it like an insect stuck in a spiderweb.

“Whatever.” You took off your race suit, leaving on the fireproof suit to cover your body for the time being. It was already hot enough as is.

“Cute.” You’d gotten used to his little flirty remarks and comments. It was basically white noise.

“You’re not.”

“I was referring to you, you know.” He was quite literally impossible.

“Must you really make me suffer with your presence any longer? Isn’t winning and doing your little finger thing enough?!” When you started raising your voice, it grabbed people’s attention, so the young Red Bull driver pulled you with him to his motorhome.

“Did I not just enlighten you about my discomfort in your presence or did I daydream that?” You scoffed at him and pulled your arm from his grip.

“Look, I’m done trying to ignore your contempt for me. Do you seriously think that I will apologize for winning? This isn’t grade school. I was driving, I was faster, I won. Simple as that. If you can’t accept it and take the loss, then you really shouldn’t be racing.” Your heart sank to the bottom of your chest. Each sentence was like a dagger to the chest. You felt every little soul-crushing word in your gut.

“Wow… you really are more of an asshole than I thought. I don’t care that you won. I care that you gloat. I care that you don’t care about me. You don’t care about any of the others. We could die for all you care. Do you want me to die? Is that it?” All rationality had left your mind the moment he insulted you. Red was all you could see.

“You’re twisting my words. I merely said that I won’t apologize for winning. I never said I wanted anyone injured.” He was right, and you knew that. Deep down, you knew that he was just like you. Passionate about the sport. The only difference was that he was in a winning car… and you unfortunately weren’t. Was it his fault? You were too blindsided by rage to even consider any other possibilities.

“By the way you drive, I beg to differ.”

“You’d be lying to me and yourself if you were to tell me you’ve never gotten caught up in the moment. You know exactly how that feels.” He somehow had a counter for everything you threw at him.

“What about your constant flirting? Why do you keep rubbing your victory in my face like that?” The look on his face contorted into that of a confused one.

“What do you mean?” He asked, obviously at a complete loss.

“You asked me out for coffee.” You said whilst confidently crossing your arms over your chest.

“You seriously think that’s a front for something?” He almost found it amusing. The way you overanalyzed his motives.

“You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?” Before you had the chance to respond, Mark walked in with Christian behind him. That was your cue to leave, so you did without hesitation.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

It had been a good while since you last had a real talk with Sebastian. A few years to be exact. The jabs and games were still happening. Neither of you had dared address any of it, but one thing remained stuck in your head like a broken record; “You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?” Every day and night, that thought passed through the thousands of others. It stood out. It was like the moon in a starry sky.

During those years, Michael had retired. It broke your heart, but seeing as Lewis replaced him; it wasn’t all that bad. Mercedes had gotten increasingly better as well— which meant that you had a better chance at beating Sebastian for every year that passed.

Lewis, being one of your closest friends on the grid, agreed to help you win your first championship. The Red Bulls had their run. It was time for Mercedes to shine. You needed to win.

“Lewis, I don’t think I can do it this race. There are too many low-speed corners. Red Bull will take this one home… Sebastian will take this one home.” You sat in your garage and moped as Lewis leaned against a pillar opposite you.

“It’s fine. They’re basically useless in high-speed corners this year. Besides, you already have 3 wins over him. Just one race won’t hurt. Well… it’ll sting, but see if you can land a podium, yeah?” Did you even want to try? You knew that Sebastian would mock you either way. It was almost as if your world didn’t revolve around the championship anymore. It was all about him. All about Sebastian.

“Yeah nah. I don’t think I can.” You stared at your feet. The race shoes were starting to feel clammy around them.

“Do you really believe that’s the mindset of a winner? No. Just think about doing whatever you can do. You don’t have to care about anyone else when you’re out there. Let yourself loose.” Lewis was right. You did care too much. You seldom crashed into anyone, all because you cared for their safety.

You ended up winning. You didn’t know how it happened or what you did to make it happen. Lewis’ words just kept swirling inside your brain; “Let yourself loose.”

You stood patiently and waited for the interviewer to finish up with P3 and P2, watching as Sebastian looked ever so disappointed. It was humorous. You felt amazing. The other wins you lorded over him didn’t feel that liberating. They felt good, but not great.

“—And here’s the deadly Mercedes! You were on fire today! We did not expect this aggressive approach from you. It was breathtaking. What did you do differently?” That was the question. What did you do differently? You stopped caring. You remembered you weren’t in the sport to make friends. You were there to win.

“I mean, I did what I had to do, really. I focused on winning and I listened to great advice. I simply just won.” The interviewer looked at you with a question mark etched onto her forehead but didn’t press further on that question.

“I know your first loss to Sebastian proved quite upsetting, would you say the tables have turned?” She smiled at you. It was clear from the beginning that she was on your side. After all, being the only female racer on the grid— you had a magnetic effect on fans of the sport.

“I can’t say for sure yet, but I can definitely hope!” Your voice was cheery and sweet, but that was just a front. You couldn’t wait for his downfall. Standing on that stage at the ceremony, watching all life drain from Sebastian’s eyes. That was your goal.

People had every right to tell you off, but at what cost if you didn’t care? Lewis had just helped you unlock the very thing that could potentially destroy the smug Red Bull driver.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

The season was going smoothly. Fans roared in your favour and even threw gifts at you whenever you went on the scene. Yours and Sebastian’s roles had switched. You were the new fan favourite. Everyone could attest to that fact.

There was a slight thing bugging you, however. The many Instagram and Facebook fan pages that were dedicated to shipping you with Sebastian. They made edits, they came up with extreme theories… It was mortifying.

People in the Mercedes garage weren’t quiet either. If anything, they were even worse. Constantly bugging you about your “obvious” chemistry with Sebastian and whatnot. Which, in your opinion, didn’t exist.

You only harboured hate for the man. He was foul. Through and through… right?

Lies. Although you didn’t dare tell anyone, you didn’t quite hate him anymore. After letting go and caring less, you felt like you could finally see things from his perspective. It made you realize that he just wanted to win. Well, on top of mocking you. That was what had your mind in knots. He claimed he only teased you because of your reactions, but he refused to acknowledge your obvious distaste for it.

He had, however, begun to limit his snarky comments and cruel smirks. He actually started distancing himself. He rarely spoke to you and only ever interacted with you when the two of you landed a podium together.

You felt like something was missing.

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Lewis asked. The two of you were sitting in your respective chairs in the cooldown room. He had somehow scored a P2 finish, with you upfront and Vettel in P3.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry. Zoned out, I guess?” You stretched your arms and wiped a bead of sweat off your forehead. Sebastian watched you throw the towel onto Lewis’ lap. Your teammate threw it back and the two of you shared a silly moment.

Something brewed inside the young Red Bull racer. He had been slacking off. He knew that all too well. His teammate, Daniel Ricciardo, was going to outscore him. There was nothing he could do about it. Not when Mercedes had gotten the upper hand. Not when you were in the way. The only pain he felt was from watching you with Lewis. He despised seeing you all happy-go-lucky. That was it. No, it wasn’t. He hated seeing you joke around with the other drivers. The sight of you laughing at a mechanic’s joke? His blood boiled.

The courage he once had was slipping. Much like his performance. He couldn’t focus on winning when losing was his only way to reach his ultimate goal.

“We should probably get going. Time to listen to your national anthem… yet again,” Lewis jokingly sighed and ruffled your hair, whilst you rolled your eyes with a chuckle.

You saw a cheerful sea of Mercedes employees. A 1-2 finish. Any team would be ecstatic if their drivers pulled that off.

Sebastian stood next to you. He couldn’t bring himself to muster even the smallest smile. Putting it mildly, his plan was starting to look like it had gone to shit. Not only was he losing the races, he was losing…

“Lew, look at this,” you grinned. Lewis obliged and was met with a burst of champagne. He let out a small yelp before picking up his bottle and spraying you.

Although he probably had a reason, you were beginning to hate how Sebastian never even spoke to you. The only solution; spray him. You poured a cold shot down his neck, to which he jerked his shoulders forward in an uncomfortable motion. It made him smile. Your heart swelled with some form of comfort in knowing you could make him feel some sort of joy.

Was that Lewis’ design all along? Making you see things from Vettel’s perspective? Perhaps. Whatever it was, you knew that your hatred for him had faded. This was replaced with stealing small glances and a spike in your heart rate when he was near.

You often felt your heart pump thickly in your throat. Your insides were littered with butterflies. You felt all jittery around him. Well, until he stopped with his flirting. He completely stopped interacting with you. It had your stomach in a twist. Were you too late? Did you not do enough?

“You don’t think a guy can be the least bit interested in you?”

You knew exactly who you had to see.

It was perfect, given that the next race wasn’t that coming weekend. You decided to give Michael a call, asking if you could see him at his house in Switzerland. Him being something of a father figure— said yes.

It was time to dig into the past. Not through the eyes of who you once were, but who you became. You were able to see things from every angle. Sebastian had clearly flirted out of sheer fun and mischief, but something underlined that cause. You. It was foolish of you to be so blinded with rage and hatred, that you couldn’t see him for what he was. A man who was struggling to keep your undivided attention. You weren’t yet convinced, but surely Michael would be able to set you straight.

You first greeted Corinna and the kids, who were not so much kids anymore. Michael came down to give you a hug and invite you to his cosy home office. He brewed some tea and placed it on the table.

“It’s so nice to see you again. I haven’t quite gotten used to retirement, but I did it once before, so I can definitely do it again!” He chuckled.

“I’m glad you’re still holding up well. I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that Mercedes is leading at the moment.” You smiled at him and took a sip of the tea he’d made for you.

“I have been following up. I watch almost every race, actually. Whenever my kids have time, we throw on the sports channel and watch you and Sebastian. That’s to say they always have time for that. In fact, my son, Mick— his dream is to race for Mercedes.” Mick was growing steadily and did karting regularly. You didn’t see why he wouldn’t be able to earn a seat at Mercedes eventually.

“About that… I came here for advice… regarding Sebastian.” As embarrassing as it was to beat around the bush, saying things like that outright was not exactly your forté.

“What, did he finally confess?” You were dumbstruck by his sudden question.

“Excuse me? What?”

“Well, you see, he was always coming to me and asking me how to get you to talk to him. I always said that he could figure things out for himself. By your reaction, however, I’m guessing that didn’t exactly work?” He leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers.

“He was crazy about you, I remember. The more riled up you got, the more he’d come to me for advice. It became routine for us to sit and talk, actually.” You had your suspicions, but never did you know that he was actually into you. Those fan pages and edits could’ve only fueled it. Your heart was beating faster and faster. It felt like it was nearly about to burst. Definitely, because you didn’t like him like that. You were just starting to sympathize. Nothing romantic. At all. No. Nothing.

“You know what I think?” Michael added when he saw your tomato-red face.

“I think he’s losing those races on purpose. Just to satisfy your needs. For a long time, he wanted to earn as many world championships as myself, but recently… something else seems to be stuck in his mind. I think his priorities lie elsewhere now.” You ran your fingers through your hair in frustration. Your heart couldn’t stop going faster than your car on race day.

“I also think you may feel something for him too.”

“Thank you, Michael. Truly… but I have to go.” You booked the earliest flight out. Needing some time alone with your thoughts.

Michael was almost always right. In this situation? There was no way he wasn’t.

Sebastian Vettel, I hate you.

You were back on the top again. The podium was the exact same as the last race. The celebration was grand. It was all pretty much the same. Your focus was more on getting time alone with Sebastian.

After everything had died down, you decided to visit the Red Bull motorhome and knocked on Vettel’s door.

“What are you doing here?” He asked with a surprised look on his face, upon opening the door.

“We need to talk. Invite me in?” He let you walk past him.

“What is it? Are you here to blackmail me?”

“What? No. Why would I ever do that?” Your face grimaced at his idea.

“I don’t know, I’m just not feeling that great right now.” He was all mopey and looked as if someone had sucked all the life force out of him.

“I actually came to talk to you about… um… well, us.” You were fiddling with your fingers in your lap, too scared to look him in the eyes.

“Us?”

“I spoke to Michael.” You weren’t sure how to lead the conversation from start to finish.

“You did?”

“He told me about everything.” Your eyes met his in a flash of awkwardness.

“Look, that was a long time ago and—”

“I don’t hate you anymore,” you cut off. His eyes lit up at your words.

“What do you mean by that?” Was he really that desperate to hear you say it, or were you too scared to say it?

“I don’t know… I guess it means you can start flirting with me again or whatever…” you mumbled sheepishly. It felt so embarrassing to tell him face to face. Your heart was thumping louder than the pit stops Mercedes did. Your face was redder than the Ferraris.

“Could we see where this takes us? I mean, if you’d like.” He seemed to be just as embarrassed about it as you. It was kind of cute, actually.

“Yes… I’d like that.” Although the conversation was surprisingly short, it left a huge impact on Sebastian. He was more or less depressed on the podium but the interviews that followed? He was a firecracker. He acted as if he’d won the lottery, smiling like an idiot and stealing glances from you here and there. It was an odd but welcome, warm feeling that spread throughout your body.

Who would’ve thought? Both Lewis and Michael were able to set you straight. You used to care too much. You used to think about yourself only, when it came to Sebastian. It was impossible to put yourself in his shoes until Lewis taught you otherwise. Your feelings? You would’ve let yourself crush them over time, had it not been for your talk with your mentor.

Much time passed, and you had won races upon races. You were still getting much-needed advice on everything from races to simple daily routines, by Michael. Sometimes you went to Lewis. He was easier to reach and you were always able to have quick conversations with him before the races. Everything had accumulated to the current momentum. The glory that you were about to relish in. The people you were about to make proud.

You sat in your seat with Sebastian on your side. He had only recently asked you to be his. It took some dates and deep, meaningful talks before you got there, but the wait was worth it. Life had never felt better. You were completely enamoured with Sebastian. The feeling was more than mutual. He was helplessly and irrevocably in love with you.

He was called to the stage as 3rd overall. The crowd cheered, but you cheered the loudest. If you had told your past self that you would be cheering him on at the ceremony, you would’ve never believed yourself.

Lewis was called next and you were called last. Sebastian couldn’t stop smiling at you. People were cheering and you were in a state of euphoria.

Your trophy was the biggest, brightest, and most grand in the room. However, it could never compare to the adoration on your boyfriend’s face, as he saw you hoisting it up into the air.

After all the interviews and the longest ride back to your hotel, you crashed onto your shared bed with your lover. The two of you stared at the blank ceiling, feeling a state of absolute tranquillity. The two of you had come so far.

“I’m so proud of you.” Sebastian turned his head to face you.

“Thank you, Seb.” You followed suit.

“Do you think we wasted too much time?” You asked. In all honesty, a tinge of guilt hit you every now and then. If only you had come to terms with yourself and your feelings earlier…

“All that time was worth hearing you tell me that you love me. I don’t think we wasted even a single moment. Everything that has happened so far… you know, it all built up to this.” You smiled at him and pulled him into a loving kiss.

Sebastian Vettel, I love you.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩! (𝙄𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙤𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨, 𝙙𝙢𝙨, 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙨𝙠𝙨: 𝙒𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧(𝙨) 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚(𝙨) 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣.)

[khuzena]

12:59

| Michael Kaiser x g/n!reader

summary: everyone in life comes and goes, but sometimes he wishes you stayed; but it's too big of a request to ask.

Warning: toxic rs,no happy ending, cry bitches. Angst, Angst, Angst. (Cheating again because this man is the reddest, crimson flag ever)

A/n: was writing this in school, no activities for the entire day so i was writing this. (This is so cringe oh my god i swear I'll write fluff next time what character do you guys want as long as it aint barou because idk how to write him..)

It sometimes gets too hard to breathe at night.

There are times where he'd find solace in your embrace, you've made home in his heart and you know.

The cupid to your psyche, the romeo to his juliet. So tempting yet so dangerous.

Trust, such a simple thing yet so hard to keep and attain. Something he's won from you years ago yet he lost instantly.

A prodigy as he, the loyal man he used to be.

Rainy days like these you'd find yourself in his well-sculpted arms, inhaling his scent and his kisses marking you his.

Two weeks before the fallout, he's been a distant man, eyes filled with disdain for you and you don't know why. Just a month ago there were flowers on your doorstep, a genuine compliment through text and light kisses pressed on your forehead here and there.

Though recently, he's been looking at you with such hate in his eyes, like you ruined his life— like you're the reason you brought pain and suffering in his world. Why?

There you were, sitting at the marble kitchen island and eating some fresh fruits while watching a boring show on your phone.

Kaiser walked past you as he grabbed an energy drink from the fridge, not even sparing you a single glance.

"Hey, love." You said smiling, nervously fidgeting your fingers under the table.

Kaiser rolled his eyes before looking at you with such disgust. Was your hair really that unkempt? Did your acne come back again? Was he no longer attracted to you? Or was it because he's found someone else. You don't know but these questions spiral in your brain, wondering, asking where you went wrong.

"Hey." He replied, the irritation in his voice was too obvious.

"Can we talk?"

If anyone could see you right now they would compare you to a homeless man asking for scraps or spare change. But at least a hobo has more dignity than you.

Like a broke man begging for money and food to survive, you're pleading, throwing away all your dignity— if you even had any left; begging for a tiny speck of his attention. Some answer, some closure for why he's been treating you like this.

"I don't have time for that and you know it, I have a game again next week in france. Let's talk next time when I have the time"

Confusion and anger boiling in you at this point, what do you mean he has no time for a simple conversation? When he has all the time in the world to do stupid shit without you when he's actually free.

"What the fuck? You barely have any fucking time for me."

He stared down at you with a blanm expression, it was irritating how he wasn't even taking you seriously.

He didn't say a word before walking away to the comfort of his room.

A week later he came home.

It was 12:59 am.

A knock on your door disturbed the peace in the living room, you made your way to the main door. Sighing with relief that it was him, that he got home safely from whatever team party he attended.

"'M sorry…"

Your eyes widened, the moment you opened the door he lunged himself at you; his grip as he hugged you not loosening.

"What happened to you, micha?..."

The smell of alcohol getting on you, the red lipstick stains on his blouse and how pathetically dishevelled that man was.

The sight took your ability to speak away for a moment. You've never expected this, he told you earlier that he'd just be drinking with his team but to go as far as this?

"Don't touch me."

Kaiser tightened his grip, the shame on his face says it all. He's never cried this hard before as his tears soaked your shirt, "Liebling.."

"I said go away." Venom dripped from your voice, causing him to flinch in his very drunk state.

A loud thud can be heard throughout the house as he fell on his knees, like the shameless bastard he is, he cried, "I still love you", "I won't do it again I promise", "You're everything, please, schatz"

The next day, he was lying on the couch. His bags being too dark one could mistake him for a panda.

Even though his stomach is growling loudly, vomit bubbling in his throat or face dried with tears he couldn't help but just wail.

Hands trembling as he looked to the alarm clock to his left, 12:59 pm. Kaiser's legs wobbled as he checked every room, looking for a sign you were there but no.

"Liebling! Please, please. Where are you?"

His voice echoed in the walls of his apartment but there was no one who answered back.

Kaiser's lost you and it's all his fault yet he wailed pathetically on the floor, holding on to the railings of his stairs like someone took you away from him.

As time passed by, he's lost count of the days he's skipped training. His hunger being his least concern even though he barely eats nowadays as he spends most of his time staring at the ceiling.

Wishing for a miracle, wishing that god hears his prayer for one last time.

In this time of deep depression his spotify playlist has become his friend, his pillow being the tissue for his tears and the sheets crumpled from his thrashing around the bed.

kaiser: please come abck

kaiser: back***

kaiser: please

kaiser: please

kaiser: i love you

kaiser: liebling

kaiser: liebling lets talk

kaiser: please.

*seen*

It's hopeless.

No matter how many times he blew up your phone with calls and texts you never answered. Though you never even blocked him too.

It was that time again, he called you again. Screen stained with tears as his eyes sparkled with hope when you finally picked up.

"Liebling, im sorry, im sorry."

The call was still on but he could only hear your heavy breathing, his breath hitched as he shakily held his phone to his ear.

"I know my sorrys won't change anything, but I still love you."

"I can't live without you"

"You're my everything."

"Please."

Please.

Still not a single word from you, he plopped down on his bed as he stared into nothing again in his empty room.

"Michael, stop."

He clutched his phone to his chest as he sobbed quietly, making sure you didn't hear him.

"Yeah, sorry."

"Stop apologising, Michael," you let out a sigh, "let's break up"

"Yeah, sure. Good night"

The call ended right then and there.

Kaiser kept replaying your voicemails over and over again. His nerves calmed down for a bit until the reality set in, he'd never hear your voice again.

There will no longer be any you standing outside the door with your arms wide open to congratulate him on his win or a lover he'd call his. The person he vowed to love and protect forever, gone.

And it's all his fault.

For one last time, he checked his phone as he saw a notification on his lock screen. The bright light almost blinded him.

love: i know you're still awake

love: go to sleep

*sent 12:59 am*

He sighed, putting away his phone and staring at the clock.

"Yeah, maybe it is getting late"

Note: we js had a halloween party 2 days ago, cosplayed as krul, had so much fun. °^°>🍦. I'll stop writing for kaiser i swear im js obsessed w him :((( (this fic not proofread m sorryyy)

[charles-leclerc-official]

Would you say Schumacher bled Ferrari? (This is a genuine question I'm not trying to get you into messy shit) This was simply inspired by that one tumblr text post: (https://www.tumblr.com/mugellocircuit/713170981288607744/i-hate-ferrari-and-i-love-ferrari-i-love-ferrari?source=share)

And how they say "Michael loved Ferrari and Ferrari loved him back". I hope Ferrari loves Charles the way it loved Michael, I hope they help him bring that same glory back to the team and back to Maranello.

Follow up question is, do you think there's ever been a driver who lives, breathes and bleeds Ferrari like Charles does? Because I genuinely don't think I've ever seen any other driver with quite that amount of devotion to a team (a cult)

I think there have been many drivers who feel this way. They are usually the ones who had the commitment to stay with the team even through the hard times because in their mind it was worth it. Ferrari can be a demanding mistress but she gives glory to those who are truly devoted to her.

I think Charles is unique in the sense that he's for sure the first one in a long time to truly be the most openly insane about Ferrari. Like concerningly insane, and of course that resonates with us Tifosi, because we too are insane. Ferrari do love Charles as much as they love him and they are doing everything to give him a championship worthy car.

However I do not think he is alone, Ferrari has a way of just getting to drivers in a way no other team does. If there is one thing I can be certain of is that Ferrari will have another driver who is as devoted to the team as Charles. It's just what the red car does to people.

Some of my favorite quotes from Ferrari drivers(current and former)

"A part of my heart will always be red." - Michael Schumacher "Without my team I am nothing" - Michael at Imola 2000

Michael had his good times and his struggles at Ferrari but he is only ever saying one team has a place in his heart. That quote from Imola is especially emotional because 2000 was his first Ferrari championship(he didn't know it at the time) and to be there at Imola and just love the whole team and appreciate what that race means. I feel like that says a lot.

"People don't know exactly how much I love Ferrari. I won my only title with her." - Kimi Raikkonen.

Given the man he was and the many struggles he had with that team people didn't outwardly see the love he had for that team the same way they do with someone like Charles. But a man like Kimi stayed with that team as long as he did because he loved them. He doesn't say much, and complains a lot, but in the end he is still in love with Ferrari. (Also note his use of her yeah that man was so gone for the red car)

"For me Ferrari is my heart, Mercedes my wallet" - Niki Lauda

Niki telling it like it is. Most other teams are just that, other teams. A fast car and a paycheck. Ferrari is the team that you take with you as a driver forever, the only team, the only car that actually meant more than the surface level adrenaline of racing and winning.

"Once you have raced for Ferrari you will remain a Ferrari driver forever" - Stefan Johansson

"There are a lot of fairy tales about Ferrari and how it feels to drive a red car. In the end I can only confirm these fairy tales." - Sebastian Vettel

There is a mythical reverence drivers have for the team. At least the ones who truly feel a deep connection to Ferrari. Simply getting to drive that red car is a spiritual experience for many.

"The red car, even before I knew it was called Ferrari, was my obsession" - Charles Leclerc

"When I dream of being world champion one day, in my mind I wear a red racing suit and get out of a red car" - Charles Leclerc

"Ferrari is my life" - Charles Leclerc

"Ferrari means to me everything . . . it is an incredible honor to be a part of this team that now became a family . . . now my own dream remains, a dream that writes itself in red." - Charles Leclerc(2024 and beyond contract renewal announcement)

He composed music to Ferrari. He loves F1 but it doesn't make sense in his head unless he is in a red car and in a red suit.

I will end this section with the one and only quote:

"Everyone is a Ferrari fan. Even if they say they're not, they are Ferrari fans." - Sebastian Vettel

Forza Ferrari

[blorbocedes]

as an ancient nico fan, i wanted to ask you, like, what made you notice him, even though he has long quit the sport? this is interesting to me, because i know why he is such an exemplary star, and i was worried that the time will be unforgiving to him, to his achievements or his talents, but thankfully i was proven wrong!

I wanted to be an informed hater and turned into a lover instead 😅

when I got in f1 around 2022 nico was regarded widely as a joke youtuber/fandom villain, but also the allure of brocedes~ that apparently a childhood best friend broke up an entire friendship and betrayal just to win the championship, well that's just a delicious narrative

so I was fully ready to hate on the guy because everyone else did and I wanted to fit in. only problem is I didn't know the guy. he retired in 2016 I don't know shit about him, beyond him being harmlessly cringe on commentary. so to be an effective and accurate hater I set on a journey to find out more about this rosberg dude and all the evils he did~

what made me notice him is that he was really pretty (I'm not gonna lie, I wouldn't have cared as much if he looked like kubica), he was the son of the wdc who won a wdc in the nepotism failbaby sport, and he'd beaten lewis hamilton in his prime while also having been childhood friends (what!!!)

I would watch his YouTube videos, esp the ones in the sim/track analysis where he'd explain the best way to optimise a track and then do a q&a, and he was so knowledgable and his enthusiasm was infectious. like did I understand what downshifting was? no. was I riveted hearing him explain why milliseconds of downshifting at the exact time on a corner matters? absolutely. that's when I was like oh he knows what he's talking about, like from a technical standpoint and not just I'm driving the car.

the more I learned about him the more fascinating he became, the five languages but not his father's, the way he was perceived by the media vs his actual personality, being the youngest ever test driver at 17, scoring points and fastest lap on debut (!!!), people thinking he only got the seat bc daddy was a world champion, enduring the britneyfication for long hair/feminine. he's also so fast, like his monaco pole laps are something out of a beautyyyyy. and then being paired up with fucking michael schumacher, having the midfield campaigns of all time at the same time while his peers and friends are winning championships. I also found him using every tactic at his disposal incredibly clever, like why shouldn't you play the media if you speak 5 languages and know german media will be more sympathetic vs british media will paint you as cold and unfeeling. his 2016 campaign that actually started after 2015 USGP when he lost the wdc -- the complete self control, restraint and putting yourself through the impossible and making it on the other side. and yet his winning radio was telling his wife WE did it, not me/i. even though it was the greatest personal achievement he never shied away from his wife's role in it and even his decision to retire is really admirable. he did it and he got to leave it behind on a high, which I think is almost impossible in f1 to do.

I think I'd have been more insane if I got to watch him live, nico the f1 driver and nico the happily retired girldad are kind of distinct entities and I enjoy both but in separate ways ofc.

but please if you (anyone reading this) was a nico fan back when he was racing how was that like!!!! how was 2016 like for you!!! and Living Through it live

[ingravinoveritas]

I've already shared many of my thoughts on Staged winning two I Talk Telly awards today and the subsequent acceptance speech videos for those awards, but I can't stop thinking about Michael not being in either video.

Michael and David are the heart and soul of Staged. It's not a far reach to say that they are the reason Staged came to exist in the first place, after Simon witnessed their amazing chemistry in GO, and that they are also the reason it continued on for as many seasons as it did. I am in no way attempting to diminish the supporting cast, but there is a reason that Michael and David keep winning the acting-related awards and no one else has.

For them/the show to collect two new awards (Best Comedy and Best Comedy Partnership) and Michael to appear nowhere in either acceptance speech video is very strange at best, and at worst, downright concerning. And it is further not helped by the way in which the videos are presented. It would actually be much less bizarre if we only saw David and Georgia's video, as they did the same exact thing when Michael and David won that same award in 2021 (when Michael was sick with Covid, which was why he wasn't in the video). So it makes sense for them to have gone this particular route:

...And then we have Anna's video. A video that contains cardboard cutouts of David and Georgia in the background, and in which Michael is neither seen nor even mentioned, which seems thoughtless at best given that Michael is the reason Anna was in the show in the first place (and apparently as a very last minute addition).

And for some reason, Lyra is the one speaking while they are both in front of the cutouts and AL is standing there like she's giving away a new car on The Price Is Right:

I'm just honestly at a loss for what the reasoning was behind this. Because all it does is draw more attention to the fact that Michael is missing, that he's been virtually absent from Twitter since the end of October, and that he's been previously reluctant to promote Staged and is apparently equally reluctant to appear in a video with his own girlfriend co-star (as he himself once referred to her, mere moments after saying that he loves David).

Whatever the case may be--if someone from PR has told Michael to continue laying low, if he's busy with rehearsals for the play he's about to star in, or if Michael is fully over promoting Staged in any capacity--none of this seems normal. I'd love to hear what my followers think, of course, so please feel free as always to speak your mind in the comments on this post...

[rfxiii]

Can you write something about Michael and his wife (reader ofc) being toxic towards each other? But one way or another, no one wants to get divorced.

My deluded ass is romanticizing toxic relationships in fiction!!

(Oooh, I do love a good toxic dynamic with the games hottest daddy, so this was fun)

Toxic Relationship between Michael and His Wife!Reader:

TW: toxic relationship, verbal altercations, referenced domestic violence (but none actually occurring in the relationship), mentions of smut, seriously- nothing is too explicit but dni if easily triggered by the above

I’m under the firm belief that pretty much every relationship with any of the characters would have its own degree of fairly toxic shit. But just based on Michael’s general behavior, his dishonesty, his practical inability to stay loyal to anyone unless they benefit him, and his staunch incapability to admit fault, that a marriage with him would pretty much have to be toxic to some varying level.

You love him. And you’re at least pretty sure he loves you. But sometimes you feel more like property or a child. He cheats on you, he gaslights you, he talks down to you, and he’s basically admitted that he’d rather kill you both than let you walk away from him. But when you do anything to upset him, he acts like a victim.

He’s manipulative as all hell. You know he cheats on you- he’s not good at hiding it, or really, he doesn’t much care to try and hide it. But you hold eye contact with a waiter or cashier for one moment too long and he’s snarking at you the entire car ride home about it. He makes mountains out of molehills, and his insecurity is no secret to anyone.

He has never said “I’m sorry” to you once in your entire marriage- and god knows, he’s done plenty that should warrant an apology. But what he lacks in the ability to admit fault, he makes up for in expensive jewelry, new cars, pretty clothes, and the best angry sex you’ve ever had in your life.

Arguing with him is like being stuck on a racetrack. It’s an endless cycle of going round and round in circles wondering when you’ll ever be able to stop. He is always right, and convincing him of the opposite is impossible. It’s easier just to shut up, let him believe he’s won, and then go do whatever the hell you wanted to to begin with. You can’t win with him, but having him pissed at you is easier than trying to win a fight.

He genuinely likes the criminal lifestyle, despite how he talks down about Trevor or tries to act like he wants to “retire”. But, that being said, if you ever mention that you don’t like all the danger his lifestyle brings, then you’re instantly at fault. Suddenly he “only does it for you” so you can “have the life that you want” and he can “buy all the expensive shit you have”. Even if you never asked for any of it, it’s still your fault, and he still does it because of you.

He likes to fight, it’s almost like stress relief or an outlet for his anger. And honestly, you kind of like it too, or you would have left his petty, childish ass by now. The fights keep things interesting after he “retires”. He doesn’t have any banks to rob or any cops to kill, so he focuses that energy on starting arguments. It is your fault sometimes- you start your fair share of fights too. But more often than not, it’s Michael that blows them way out of proportion.

He can’t be reasoned into apologizing or admitting fault. You could say something like, “I wish you and Trevor hadn’t been out all night drinking”. To which he’ll instantly come back with, “oh, right! I’m sorry I’m such a big piece of shit! Even though everything I do is to keep this family livin’ in this big house YOU wanted! But nothings ever good enough for you! Is it, sweetheart?!” And now you’ll be fighting for the next week.

He wouldn’t lay a hand on you, but with the way he screams and threatens, you could be convinced that he would. Lucky for both of you though, in favor of a physical altercation, he prefers taking out his aggression through fast, rough, punishing sex, and degrading, almost cruel, insults while he fucks you. He’s usually in a better mood afterwards though.

Your relationship has always been a muddled mess of fights, bitter words, passive aggressive comments, and hateful screaming. But you love him, and he does love you. And you both knew what you were getting into when you married each other. You can both pretend that it bothers you, but in the end, nobody can understand your fucked up little family the way you two can.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 30: Would You Love Me if I was a Worm?

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

After his talk with Raph and CJ, Leo has to do it all over again with the whole family -- April, Draxum, and Cassandra included.

And Mikey, despite Leo's hesitation and objections.

The whole thing goes... very well, actually.

It is tough at first, Leo having been exhausted twice already and having to ask Raphael and Casey Jr. for help explaining on occasion because he just doesn’t have the emotional (or even physical) energy to go through it all a third time.

Tears are shed. Some are Leo's. Most are actually from Splinter.

At first, Leo thinks it is because of his paternal instinct to protect them, but then he remembers how hard it must have been those first several years post-mutation... All the years he'd spent in the Battle Nexus... Splinter understands all too well what Leo is going through.

Second most are from April. She may not have won the award for the most shed, but she won the award for loudest sobs. Leo didn't expect her to be so heartbroken for his sake, but she is, and that makes him cry all over again.

But the most impactful tears for Leo are Donnie's. Maybe it's because they're twins, or maybe it's the fact that Dee typically tends to keep his tears hidden (especially when there was an audience), or bottle them up. Not that he refuses cry ever -- he just doesn't do it often, and especially not when there are so many people around. But here he is, weeping silently for his brother in front of everybody. Leo almost missed it at first, but he happened to glance over and see the stains on his twin's mask and the red irritation surrounding his sclera. So while Donnie didn't make much of a show of his emotions, Leo knows he felt for him.

Cass and Draxum might be the only two not to cry, apart from Raph and Casey -- but those two are exempt, since they'd already knew what happened and had their own moments earlier to shed tears with him. Draxum is stoic and expressionless for the most part, raising an eyebrow at appropriate intervals to show he is paying attention. Cass makes quite a lot of facial expressions, and Leo figures her eyes got watery at one point. She talks a lot, though. So does Draxum.

Everyone has something to say. From advice to give, to words of affirmation, to moments when they felt similarly to Leo -- everyone talks.

All but one, actually.

Mikey stays strangely quiet.

Not that he doesn't understand. He does. Which is one of the reasons Leo was wary to tell Mikey. His eyes go wide with shock, and he cries with the rest when he hears the news. He sits besides Leo the entire time, resting his head on his lap and mewing sadly at him. Leo strokes his head to reassure him he is okay. Though, as the night goes on, he's not certain if Mikey is trying to comfort him, or if that is now Leo's job...

Leo half expects Michael to put on a turtleneck and coke bottle glasses, and don his 'Dr. Feelings' persona to help.

But he doesn't.

The discussion is long and lasts quite a while, with compelling points made from everyone and different ways to help Leo combat the intrusive thoughts and suicidal feelings.

Leo wonders how anyone could ever think he was the hero when they were the ones constantly saving his life.

Exhausted as he is, he weeps again and thanks everyone for their love and support.

The family meeting ends with hugs and kisses and watching a movie together in the hotel room. Leo notices that everyone keeps him in the center of the group, effectively surrounded by their love.

Mikey stays glued to his side the entire evening. He's been mostly quiet the whole night, but now he seems... overprotective of him. Leo is too tired to question it. Besides, he is so grateful for the company. Mikey rests on his lap like a cat, his soft underbelly radiating warmth and his gentle breaths keeping Leo grounded and calm.

They watch movies until Leo falls asleep in his family's embrace.

.

.

.

Leonardo is entirely spent the next day. He wakes up in his hotel bed, exhausted and groggy. He doesn't remember when he fell asleep, just like he doesn't remember being carried to his room, or being given a weighted blanket on top of his sheets. The blanket doesn't even cover his entire body, they just draped it across his chest --

Wait a sec. Why is the weighted blanket breathing?

Leo looks up and blurrily sees a mass of green and yellow sprawled across his torso. He blinks, rubs his eyes free of sleep, and the blur becomes his little brother.

Leon smiles. Did Mikey stay with him the entire night? Was he worried for him? This was exactly why Leo didn't want to tell Mikey... the poor guy doesn’t need another thing to worry about. And yet, he is happy that Mikey is showing him how he loves him. And to be honest, Leo has not slept that well in weeks. Though, that was mostly due to stress from Mikey's disappearance and then camping out on his beanbags once he was home.

Leonardo strokes Mikey's head gently. He doesn't think he puts that much effort or force into it, but Mikey immediately wakes up at his touch and turns to look at him. He chirps before remembering he can speak and clears his throat.

"Hullo," he croaks.

"Hey," Leo simpers. "What's up."

Mikey hums and crawls closer to his big brother so that he's laying beside him rather than across him. He doesn't really respond to Leo, but holds onto his arm. Mikey's tail slides over Leo's knees and swishes back and forth.

"You okay?" he asks, looking over at him. "You're acting a little clingy."

Mikey hugs Leo's arm a bit more tensely. He nods.

"Mikey just... want to be with Leo today."

Leo sighs and snuggles closer to him. He can let Mikey be clingy.

"Okay. How about today is a Leo and Mikey day?"

Mikey glances up at his brother, eyes wide and bright. He chirps excitedly before once again recalling he can speak and answers him with a resounding 'yes'.

Leo is surprised how Mikey's vocal chords still sound raspy and torn. They should have healed by now. They sound better, that much is sure. He just needs a little more time.

Don't we all...

"So, whaddya wanna do today, bud?" Leo inquires. He seems to have caught Mikey off guard with the question.

"Mikey decides?" he asks, surprised. "Why not Llllllleo?"

"I can pick some stuff to do too," Leo adds. "But what do you feel like doing now?"

Mikey considers for a moment before giving a decisive nod followed by a decisive answer.

"Mikey wants food."

"Leo wants food too," he chuckles, getting up out of bed and putting on an oversized t-shirt. He leaves his ninja wraps behind, but ties the mask. Mikey watches with curious investement.

"...Can Mikey wear something, too?"

"Yeah, dude. You packed some clothes, right?"

"Big sweaters," Mikey answers. "Too hot for them."

"You can borrow one of mine, then," Leo says, digging in his thrown-together duffel bag until he finds a shirt that should fit Mikey. "Here ya go!"

Mikey catches the shirt and stares at it like it's a gift from God Himself before delicately pulling it over his head and shell.

"What if Mikey tears it?" he asks nervously. "Will Leo get sad?"

"No," Leo says, sensing that trying to keep Leo from being sad will become a running theme with Mikey for the day. "I won't be sad. You can go ahead and wear it, don't worry."

Mikey looks down at the shirt and smiles. He likes the neon blue swirls and tie-dye patterns, he likes how they contrast so brightly and perfectly with his lemon-bright yellow spots and freckles.

"Does Mikey get a mask too?"

Leo looks back at him, hope shining through his eyes.

"Did you pack your mask?" he asks gently.

"Uuuuummmm," Mikey taps a claw against his chin as he thinks. "I think Cassssssey put one in? Orange cloth, yeah?"

Leo and Mikey walk over to the other bedroom and search through the suitcase. Lo and behold, Casey Jones Jr. did indeed stash a few bright orange masks. Leonardo helps to tie the mask up into a bow behind Mikey's head. The former box turtle scrambles to the mirror and stares at himself in awe.

"I look like Leo and Raphie and Donnie now!" he exclaims. "I-I look like... like... I look like Mikey."

Leo smiles warmly at his little brother, who seems to be crying tears of joy. At least, that's what he hopes. He's smiling pretty big.

Leo helps Mikey to stand on his two feet and the duo walk out hand-in-hand, mostly to help Mikey keep from stumbling or tripping. The boys head downstairs to the free continental breakfast offered.

Mikey is completely awed by the many choices of food. They're all so spread out and numerous! Leo helps Mikey choose, since the Yokai's culinary options are a bit different than theirs, and he isn't sure if the screaming cereal puffs would be appetizing to him just yet...

He picks out a stack bright green pancakes with glowing blue berries mixed in, a bowl of warm milk with non-screaming cereal puffs, and very odd, very large slices of what he thinks is turkey bacon, or something similar to that. Mikey also asks for several fruits and baked goods as well. And while Leo's his bagel is toasting, he assists Mikey with dressing up his oddly-coloured pancakes with strawberry and maple syrup, chocolate chips, and powdered sugar. Leo is going to regret giving him so much sugar later on, but today has been declared a day for fun, so anything goes. Which means a sugar rush, sugar crash, followed by imminent diabetes on a plate, and all at 8am in the morning.

The two sit down and Mikey tries again with the fork and knife. His fingers can't get the utensils to hold still properly, and they slip and clack loudly. Mikey gets flustered and embarrassed that he's making a fool of himself, until Leo points out that the room has very few patrons -- and most of those that are attending breakfast have hooves or tentacles or claws that resemble Mikey's, so they eat without utensils. Mikey beams gladly upon this discovery, and digs into his plate with his bare face.

Leo rolls his eyes with an airy chuckle and noshes on his cheese and bacon bagel-ritto. He wonders how long it will take for Mikey to not treat every meal like it's his very first, lick every plate clean, and beg for seconds and thirds in a timid manner as though he's scared of being punished for being hungry. The good news is that he's gained some weight since his rescue; he isn't so pale and shaky and thin-framed as he was when they first rescued him.

Breakfast for Mikey is over in a flash. He nearly inhales the pancakes at a speed previously unknown to man. Leo is challenged to match the speed in an attempt to finish his food before Mikey's sugar rush kicks in. He almost makes it, too. Almost.

Mikey starts bouncing in his seat impatiently. He watches Leo scarf down his bagel and slurp up his cereal. Mikey rocks back and forth, tapping his fingers rhythmically as he hums.

"You can always go outside and I'll meet you when I'm done," Leo offers, mouth dripping with milk and chin covered in honey-nut wheat bites.

"Nuh-uh!" Mikey says, shaking his head frantically, bows flapping like they're about to take flight. "Mikey stays with Leo! I l-like staying with Leo, I like being with you it's a lot of fun let's go do other fun stuff too are you finished yet huh huh huh are ya are ya are ya hey look at that guy he looks like a rhinoceros that's pretty cool hey can you make this sound with your mouth??"

Mikey starts blowing raspberries at his brother before busting out in mad giggles.

"I'mma gonna go get some more syrup and pancakes!"

"Wooooaaaaah mister!" Leo halts him, grabbing Mikey by the elbow before he can jet off. "I think you've had enough. Raph will kill me if he finds out how much sugar I let you have already!"

Mikey yipes at that claim, instantly going to guard Leo's chair with a growl.

"N-no! No one hurts you! Don't worry Leo I'll protect you Mikey can help don't be hurt no dying I don't like that hey how about we go outside now are you finished with your food I wanna go play outside can we play is that okay is that okay I'm not being annoying am I you'd tell me if I was annoying right I don't wanna be a burden am I being weird how come everything is moving so slowly wow my hands are really shaky can we go outside now I wanna play can we play how long does it take for you to eat food let's go outside now okay???"

Leo swallows the last of the bagel-ritto and half-chokes on it before clearing his throat.

"Okay, Mikey, let's go outside and burn off all that energy, huh?"

"Yaaaaaay!!!" Mikey cheers, grabbing Leo's wrist and racing outside with him.

Leo yelps as his baby brother drags him out at the speed of light, nearly dislocating his shoulder. Mikey dodges sunbathers and resort patrons as he rushes going out towards the beach and fly through the giant magic rainbow arch.

"What should we play first??" Mikey asks, skidding to a halt and buzzing around Leo's ankles excitedly.

"I think maybe let's start with a race," Leo schemes. "Let's see how fast you can go, hmm? First one to round the island wins!"

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE FUN OKAY LET'S DO IT!!" Mikey screams, bouncing and vibrating in a blur from excitement.

Leo crouches, Mikey mimicking him as his tail flaps around so wildly it cracks the air and slaps sand into the wind.

"OnyourmarkgetsetGO!" Leo shouts.

Mikey is instantaneously gone, a trail of smoke and sand billowing behind him as he vanishes around the bend. Leo half wishes he'd brought his katanas so he could make a portal just to mess with him.

Mikey is back in a few minutes, zooming past him and around the bend again. Leo wonders why he didn't stop. He's back after another five minutes or so.

"Hi!" he pants, still hyped up but out of breath. "I didn't see you until it was too late the first time and by the time I realised I passed you I figured it would be faster just to run the island again hey you didn't run at all why didn't you run but I won the race anyway didn't I didn't I huh huh Mikey's the winner Mikey wins at racing I'm fast very fast look what Mikey can do!"

Mikey starts zooming back and forth and running out onto the water to play. Leo laughs and follows after him, taking off his shirt and jumping into the water to wade with his little brother. Several minutes later, Mikey slows and starts to yawn. He shudders and sits on the shore while Leo goes to get him some water and something to combat the sugar crash.

After a peanut butter and apple slices snack later, and a reluctant drink of some cold orange juice, Mikey's shakes dissipate and he takes a quick nap on the beach shore. Leo grabs some beach towels and lounge chairs for the two to relax in. He lets Mikey rest where he is, for the time being, sticking an umbrella in the ground beside him to keep him shaded.

"See you when you get up, buddy..."

.

.

.

Mikey wakes about an hour later, afraid that Leo might have left him while he was sleeping. He sits up and looks around, only relaxing once he sees his brother's signature shade of blue.

Leo is lounging, smiling brightly as he basks in the sunlight. Mikey sees that a lounge chair has been set up besides Leo for him as well.

Instead, Mikey climbs aboard Leo's chair and curls onto his lap, careful not to crush his legs like he tends to do. Mikey feels Leo's hand rub circles onto his back once he's situated.

"Hey, bud," he says quietly. "You doing okay? Need more peanut butter?"

Mikey shakes his head 'no'.

"M'kay. Wanna do something?"

"Leo's turn to choose," Mikey hums back.

"I'm kinda good to just stay here and relax."

Mikey hums and nods. It is good to relax. Mikey likes relaxing. He wasn't really allowed to relax in the labs... well, that's probably not true. They let him sleep at night and have some mealtimes. But his days were mostly tests and experiments and fighting deformed monsters. Nothing like laying back and bathing in pure unprohibited sunshine. And Leo needs his relaxation, too! He needs to feel sunshine, and rest on the beach, and enjoy the peace too. If anyone deserves it, Leo does.

Mikey watches the waves as they tumble over one another. He sees what looks like a dolphin in the distance. The sunlight sparkles across the water majestically. He's sure he's seen this before...

.

.

.

"Well, it's official. Leo is the worst," Mikey mutters.

"You mean the BEST!" Donnie squeals, rushing over to the water and jumping in excitement. "We get a beach vacay! FINALLY! I don't know about you gentlemen, but I have definitely EARNED this."

"Earned it how?" Raph asks, remembering the 'gifts' he made for them, when he tested out his tranq darts on them, how he got addicted to the Purple Game and accidentally trained a giant mech AI to squash them...

"Where exactly are we?" Mikey asks, spotting a red and white flag waving far off in the distance.

"According to my calculations --" Donnie declares, typing on his wrist tech dramatically, "-- Leo has portalled us to Tahiti."

"TAHITI?!" Raph shouts, eyes bulging out of his head. "Wha- How- Why --"

"How about we don't have a conniption," Donnie says, taking Raphael by the arm and leading him to the water, "...and instead we enjoy the serenity that is a beach vacation?"

"But what about Leo?" Mikey asks, already splashing in the waves. "Do you think he's worried? Or in trouble? Why wasn't he portalled here with us?"

"Oh I'm sure he's fine, he said with very little hesitation," Donnie states, waving away Mikey's concern. "He got us into this mess, he'll get us out of it. Now, Tahiti. Is. Ours!"

Donnie supplies the boys with flower leis and coconuts filled with fruity beverages, initiating the chillest of vibes and enticing his brothers to join in.

"Well... maybe just a few minutes," Raph agrees, taking the coconut from Donnie. "But at some point we gotta figure out a way to get home."

"Ooooorrrr we could look into finding a nice sewer here?" Donnie offers.

Raph and Mikey glare at him.

"Kidding!" he quickly rebuffs. "I was of course joking, and have not already been researching the options. It's not like there's one available for a very reasonable price just two miles away or anything..."

Mikey rolls his eyes and kicks a wave at Raph, initiating a splash war between them.

The trio enjoy the sun and surf, laughing and having a wonderful time. Mikey wishes that Leo could enjoy it with them... He's still a bit worried about what happened to his bro. He knows Leo has been feeling really low about his mystic weapon not working right. For whatever reason, he can't get it to properly portal. Mikey figured out how to use his almost instantly, and Raph has been getting the hang of his pretty easily as well. But Leo's odachi keeps malfunctioning. He could barely get a portal to open at first! Mikey remembers how he tricked them all into the minotaur maze to prove he was a champion. They were pretty mad at him, but the more Mikey thinks about it, the more he feels like Leo was hiding his insecurities. And still is.

Mikey's been working on a new persona -- like Dr. Delicate Touch, but softer. Less focused on telling the cold hard truth, and more focused on getting others to admit truths about themselves. A therapist kinda persona, to help with feelings. Hey, that could be his name! 'Dr. Feelings'... that might work.

He wonders if Leo would be willing to talk about it. Leo's pretty cagey when it comes to talking about feelings. But maybe --

Mikey's train of thought is interrupted by a burst of blue light ignites from above, and the three are sucked in very suddenly with a yell...

His stomach does a backflip as he goes from flying upwards to falling downwards, landing with a crash against Raph's back and a hard wooden surface.

"Whoah, where'd you guys come from? I mean, hey check it out! I freed you from your pirate prison!"

.

.

.

Mikey blinks and he's back from the memory. It's always weird and disorienting when he recovers a new recollection. Mostly because he doesn't recognize himself, and can't actually imagine himself walking around so easily without help or not stumbling over his words and referring to himself as 'Mikey' instead of 'I' at times, or not seeing his tail flick around out of his peripherals. He can't possibly comprehend that he was Hamato Michelangelo, and not Mikey from Project Venus of the TCRI, prisoner of the EPF.

Mikey feels Leo's hand on his shell again. He shifts around so he can lay his chin against Leo's shoulder in a lazy hug.

"You sure you're okay?" Leo asks quietly. "I know I said this, but you've been acting a little clingy. Is everything alright?"

"I told you, Mikey wants to be with Leo today."

"I get that," Leo mumbles, shifting his weight a bit so they can sit a bit more comfortably. "But why? Is it because of last night?"

Mikey whimpers quietly.

"I'll take that as a yes. I'm sorry it bothered you --"

Mikey pulls away and stares him in the eyes. That was probably not the right thing to say, Leo figures. Mikey's eyes seem to search Leo's for something.

"Mikey, why are you looking at me like that? Why are you so upset? What about last night upset you?"

"Mikey want Leo happy today."

"But why?" he asks.

"Leo said he's not always happy. Leo said he doesn't love himself sometimes. Mikey... Mikey wants to make Leo happy today so Leo knows I love Leo. Mikey make everything better... Mikey helps, Mikey do good..."

Mikey starts whimpering a little and his eyes tear up. Leo reaches around him and pulls him into a hug.

"Mikey, I know you love me. It's okay, I'm going to work on treating myself better and not letting those thoughts win. It's not your job to do that. But thank you, this really helps."

Mikey sniffles and nuzzles his face into the crook between Leo's neck and shoulder.

"...Mikey knows how hard it is to remember to be loved."

Leo glances out of the corner of his vision at Mikey, not daring to let go of the hug.

"Mikey... Mikey can't always remember things. Mikey has a hard time remembering. The labs... they took everything from Mikey. Nobody loves in the labs. Everybody just hates. Especially Instinct. He hates everyone a lot. Instinct CAN'T love, he just hates. Instinct kept Mikey alive, but not happy. Instinct always says 'Don't trust them', because he thinks everyone is going to hurt Mikey. But... he wasn't wrong. And the people at the labs... the 'evil humans'... they told me... I was a monster. Instinct told me I was a monster. And I had no choice but to believe them."

Mikey slowly glances back at his brother.

"So Mikey knows how it feels to not really love what you are. Mikey knows how hard it is.... and how much it hurts..."

Leo wraps his arms tighter around Michelangelo, squeezing him and not releasing until he hears the little guy squeak.

"We've been trying our best to show you that you're not a monster, Mikey."

"I know...."

"Because you're not a monster, Mikey. Nobody thinks that. Not me, not Raph, not --"

"I bit Raph, though!" Mikey protests meekly. "A-and I attacked you, you still have the scratches on your neck and leg -- aren't you mad? Or scared??"

"If I understand it right, I think technically it was Instinct who did those things," Leo corrects. "And even if it wasn't, Raph and I would never think anything bad about you."

Mikey rests his head against Leo's plastron.

"...Leo...?"

"Yeah?"

"...Will... will you love me if I really AM a monster?"

Leo rubs Mikey's head gently.

"Mikey, I love you so much. I'd love you if you were a worm. I'd love you if you were a non-mutated box turtle. And yes, I'd love you if you were a monster. And I love you now."

Mikey wonders what Leo means by 'I love you now'. He feels some hidden meaning behind the word. It unnerves him slightly, thinking that there is something dark hiding behind the word 'NOW', something terrible that he doesn't understand. Then again, there is very little that Mikey understands.

But he understands that he's different now. Though, somehow, they act like that isn't a bad thing. Or they act like he hasn't changed at all. Mikey's not sure if it's true or not, and he isn't sure how he feels about either prospect.

Looking on the outside, Mikey is astounded by the love they show him. He imagines that he deserves that love, he has earned it. Somehow.

"...Mikey loves you too, Leo. Please remember that."

"If you'll remember that I love you right back."

Mikey nods, churring softly as he hugs Leo again, just for good measure.

Mikey hopes that, if nothing else, he really will remember that.

.

.

.

Agent John Bishop sits at a desk and types several keywords into the computer. He's not a hacker, but he's learned a few tricks from Honeycutt about bypassing codes. He gave Bishop his login username and passkey so that he could piggyback off of his server without drawing attention. He's currently looking for any information that they have on Mikey's status. They can't track him anymore, but that doesn't mean they don't have other means of finding him. Cameras and drones and sweepers, oh my...!

Bishop types another line of code and uncovers a file from Chaplin's server: a map of New York overlayed on top of another schematic. Are those sewer tunnels? No, too winding and varied, plus there are tons of open areas that don't line up with the city plumbing codes. So then what...?

Bishop peers at it before recognizing a few of the structures and symbols. That's a city schematic. So, they've overlayed NYC overtop of another city? What --

Bishop realizes what this map is of.

How have they discovered the Hidden City so quickly?? Bishop and those two idiot mercs only found it yesterday! This isn't good news.

Bishop regrets not asking Casey for his info or a way to contact them. They need to know what's happening! But then again, it's probably for the best. If the EPF were to make any kind of security check on his phone for unknown numbers, they'd immediately find Casey and their whole family would be in danger. Besides, Bishop is aware that Casey probably doesn't own a cell or even have any sort of email. Someone with no records or identification whatsoever isn't going to just have a cell that can be tracked or traced.

He keeps on scrolling, going through the restricted channels. He finds a notice for the employees discussing something about Staten Island. He finds a timetable for some sort of mission or extraction. He finds a work order given to Honeycutt for a new program titled Mechanical Iambic: Mimicry Initiative Cybernetic. 'MI:M.I.C.' for short. Bishop can guess what the program does, but not what they would want it for.

They're planning something. An attack of some kind. For Mikey. Bishop has to act. But how? What can he do...

He quickly makes a printout of the mission timetable and map overlay and logs out quickly.

He messages Honeycutt to be careful and warns him about the program, asking that he intentionally sabotage it in a way they wouldn't notice. He hits send just as he gets up and leaves the abandoned office room.

Bishop is in the elevator. Honeycutt hasn't answered back yet. He usually responds within the first few seconds, especially with everything going. Bishop presses the button for the ground floor. He waits an eternity with the papers hidden in his interior jacket pocket. He presses the button again.

The doors open on the ground floor, and Honeycutt still hasn't offered any kind of response. It doesn't even say he's read the message. That's not like him... He stares down at his phone as he crosses through the lobby.

"Hey, John," says the receptionist, waving him down with a sparkling smile. "Going out again?"

Bishop smiles back at her kindly.

"Yep, just going on a coffee run. Want anything?"

"I might like a cappuccino," a voice says from the front.

Bishop turns in surprise to see Dr. Chaplin, standing with two very large guards at the front door.

"...Didn't take you for the cappuccino type," Bishop jokes.

"Well, we all have our little secrets now, don't we?" Chaplin replies, walking towards him with a strange smile. "Like you, for instance."

He looks Bishop over, analyzing him. Bishop wonders what he's up to... but this ominous talk of secrets doesn't bode well.

"...You know, Ms. Campbell told me about the odd hacker that had infiltrated our systems a few days back. Left a message, 'leave us alone', very ominous... did Honeycutt tell you about that?"

"Why would he?"

"You two have been rather chummy as of late," he says with a snakeish, sickly saccharine smile. "I thought you might have discussed it. But in any case, I tasked Ms. Campbell to search for anything out of the ordinary in the EPF/TCRI servers. Suspicious activity, piracy, hackers, that sort of thing."

$#!%, John Bishop thinks to himself.

"And she told me about someone downloading reports on Project Venus. Looking for information. And some of the researchers and analysts gave reports of important items going missing, like blood reports and DNA samples."

Bishop stays stone-faced.

"Do you want me to look into this?" he asks, hoping that all he has is speculation and no hard evidence.

"No, thank you though. I had Ms. Campbell set up a tracing modem earlier today."

The two guards walk up to Bishop and each grabs him by his arms.

Bishop's eyes widen as he realizes what's happening.

"She tracked you pretty quickly. And not only you," Chaplin informs, his smile slowly fading. "You used your friend's IP server to carry your signal and hide your hacks. Very good, very ingenious. Honeycutt is quite clever. But unfortunately for the two of you, his creations are more clever."

Agent Bishop struggles against the security guards as they start to search him, one taking his EPF standardized concealed weapon, the other reaching into his interior lining of his jacket and pulling out the printouts. He hands the sheets to Dr. Chaplin, who tuts at Bishop disappointedly.

"What are you planning? Where did you get that schematic?" Bishop demands.

"You're not exactly in a position to ask questions," Chaplin replies drably.

"But how could you possibly even know about --"

"What, the quote unquote, 'Hidden City'?" Dr. Chaplin chuckles. "Please. That pathetic ghetto of ghouls hasn't been a secret, especially not since the incident with the mosquitos and that maniac in the baseball field. Did you really think I wouldn't know about something like this? And it's not the only Yokai city I've come across. This is what got me into the study of mutations in the first place!"

"What do you want with them?!" Bishop shouts, pulling his arm as hard as he can to try and punch his former employer in anger.

Dr. Chaplin stares at the agent as though he just asked him the stupidest question in the world.

"My dear Bishop, I want absolutely nothing to do with them. That's the whole point of this."

Bishop is tugged back, his arms thrust behind him as the guards try to cuff him.

"Where's Zayton Honeycutt? What are you going to do to him?!" he snarls, desperate to wrench his arms free.

One of the guards punches Bishop in the gut, causing him to double over. He's half-held up by the guards as he struggles to get his breath back.

"The good old professor still has some usefulness for us. I see no reason to kill the golden goose just yet. You, on the other hand," Chaplin says, leaning close to his face. "You are an expendable agent with no connections or important qualities whatsoever. And you should have known better."

Dr. Chaplin snaps his fingers, and Agent John Bishop is dragged away, kicking and shouting and struggling.

Prev || Next

[calumsrockstar]

Bare - Poly 5SOS

a/n: I saw this album cover and had this idea...

Contents: smut (exhibitionism mostly)

Word count: 1.1k

In which the reader is a band mate and agrees to do the rolling stone cover photo.

5sos x bandmate!reader

Luke was working on his computer, while Calum, Mike and Ash were sitting next to him. "What the fuck?" He said to himself. Calum laughed, "What happened Lu?" He asked. "You guys gotta see this man." Luke laughed.

What was on the screen was an e-mail from the Rolling Stone magazine asking if they were interested in doing a naked photoshoot, nothing too explicit, they would be covering their genitals, and they would have writing all over their body.

Ashton started giggling loudly. "Well, that´s punk rock dude!" Luke paused. "Wait, are you actually considering doing this photo shoot?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "Well, it would be good for publicity, and also, we wouldn´t actually show anything, and it´s the Rolling Stone!" He uttered.

Mike paused for a few seconds. "Well, we would have to talk about this to y/n." Luke looked at him. "Yeah, i didn´t think about her...how would she even do that?"

"Well, she could wear underwear and just cover her tits? We would be wearing dick covers too, wouldn´t we?" Calum said. Luke started blushing. All of the boys had been having thoughts about her, but they had never admitted it.

"Well.... who´s gonna tell her?" Michael said. He, Calum and Ashton said "not it!" at the same time, which left Luke being the responsible one.

"You guys are such assholes." Luke muttred under his breath. All of the boys started laughing.

You were in your room listening to music. Luke knocked at the door while the other boys were listening in.

"Come in!" You said to Luke. "Hey y/n, I was just wondering if I could talk to you about something." Luke said quietly. "Yeah, what do you need?" You asked curiously.

"So... There´s this photoshoot we got asked to do." Luke told you. "That´s amazing Lu! How will it be?" Luke paused. "Okay so basically we gotta be naked." You raised an eyebrow. "It´s nothing too explicit, we´re gonna be covering our stuff with our hands." Luke asserted. You started laughing, and Luke rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

"Wow, you´re not kidding." You said, smiling. "Yeah, if you´re not comfortable it´s totally okay, you don´t need to do it." He cooed.

"I want to do it." You said sternly. His jaw dropped. "Really?" You laughed. "Yeah, it´s gonna be good for publicity, and well, it´s not gonna be that explicit." You said, winking.

He stopped and started thinking about how your body looked like naked, he´s seen you before after a shower with your tight pijamas, but nothing too lewd.

His jeans were starting to get tighter around his crotch, he needed to get those thoughts out of his head now. "Lu? You there?" You asked. "Yeah! Yeah! I´ll tell the boys!" He exclaimed while leaving the room. You chuckled to yourself.

"Guys, you won´t believe this, she said yes." Luke said quietly to everyone. All their jaws dropped. "Oh my God" Ashton muttered.

The next day came, and you were all getting ready for the photoshoot. "This is so weird man, never thought I would be naked in a room with all of you." Calum said. Everyone laughed. The boys felt a pit in their stomach, knowing you could come out at any time.

You were in your dressing room. You had black lace panties on, doing your makeup and you were completely topless. What you didn´t know, was that your door was half open.

Calum saw the open door with the side of his eye. You looked amazing, your hair was curled and your body looked like it was sculpted by gods.

The other boys were quick to notice too. They all looked at each other. "Dude..." Michael uttered quietly. "Are we gonna ignore the elephant in the room?" Ashton said. "She´s so fucking hot." Calum said.

"I don´t think I can do this anymore." Luke said. Ashton started giggling. "Why? Did the blood go to the wrong place Lu?"

What they didn´t know, is that you were enjoying this as much as they did. This was your fantasy. A room with 4 naked men, that you´ve had a crush on forever? Sounds like a great plan.

Every boy there was mesmerized, all of them had imagined you naked before, but this was even better than anything their imagination could create.

You opened the door. The four boys immediately looked the other way. "Come on guys, we´re all adults here." You said, while smiling. Michael coughed awkwardly. "Let´s do this." Calum said.

The photographer had specific requestes. You had to take a photo next to each one of the boys. "Be sexy and bold!" The photographer exclaimed.

The boys could not ignore their growing erections, it was getting uncomfortable to all of them. They could only hope it would be over soon so they could go to their rooms and stroke their cocks thinking of you. You on the other hand, were loving this.

In the first picture, you were in the middle of Calum and Luke, both standing awkwardly. You posed for the picture. "Luke, put your arm around y/n." The photographer said. Luke coughed. It was getting hard enough to cover his boner with one hand. He put his hand on your waist.

The sensation was amazing, you were wet immediately.

"Now y/n, go next to Ashton and do a kiss on his cheek." The photographer exclaimed. You were happy to do what you were told, covering your tits, you placed a soft kiss on Ashton´s cheek. He started blushing.

Now, it was your turn to go to Calum´s side. "y/n, stick your toungue out." You did as told. "That´s amazing, the fans will love it." Calum looked at you while the photographer took the picture. Calum´s mind was racing thinking of what you could do with that toungue. "Calum, look at the camera, not at her." The photographer said sternly. Michael laughed.

In the last photo, the photographer told Michael to stand behind you, and for you to make a surprised expression on your face. While he was behind you, you adjusted yourself in front of him, wiggling your ass around on his cock.

You could feel his dick close to your body, you smirked, then the final picture was taken.

"We´re all done here!" The photographer said, with a smile on his face. All the boys sighed.

"Good work guys." You said, smirking, and returned to your dressing room, closing the door.

The guys were in silence looking at each other for a few seconds. "I really need to go to the bathroom." Luke said. The boys laughed. Ashton looked at him. "Touché."