#yay for constructive criticism

[fandomrose]

Sunday - Love Hypnosis

Sunday hypnotises you (consensually) to relax you.

No spoilers.

No description of reader or readers troubles so project what you are personally struggling with as you see fit.

No angst just fluff. I thought this concept would be cute. I've seen many a yandere Sunday hypnotises you, and that's great but consider - consent and fluff.

(This isn't a jab, I too enjoy a yandere fic from time to time but I also want to see fluff and I haven't seen this done in a fluffy way yet.)

I don't know why I'm mildly obsessed with this man but I am. (Cough Cough, I read maximum ride as a kid and now I automatically fall in love with winged characters. Cough Cough.) I need him to hypnotise me please and thank you.

(I have a few fics in the works that I need to finish but I'm struggling.)

As usual enjoy. Love ya 💙

"Darling?" Came the light and airy tone of your beloved. Though there was a hint of worry in his voice as he took in your face down, slumped form. "Are you alright?"

He could tell very well that you were not alright. But he would coax an answer out of you one way or another. Though the only answer he received was a groan.

"Darling." He sighs but chuckles at your obviously aggravated self. "Allow me to help you." 

Your body goes limp as you let him move you from a sofa to your shared bed. "My darling. Tell me what's gotten into you."

He chuckles as you groan out a single word relating to your issues. "Life."

"Oh, my darling. You'll let me soothe you for the night won't you?" He only felt it was right after the many nights you had soothed him. 

Patient, kind, understanding. Three words that when asked by others what you think about each other, you'd both say about each other. A pure give and take without a scoreboard, that's how you operated. You were both busy or stressed for one reason or another so that's how things had to be.

The simple love you shared was enough most days but sometimes things went wrong.

Sunday had performed hypnosis on you before so he knew it worked but he'd never engage unless you agreed. You knew the question he asked meant he wanted to soothe you via hypnosis, and with the state of your mind you would happily agree. 

"Please do." 

He wouldn't offer if he didn't have the energy you knew this, a rather large argument took care of that when he'd overworked himself then passed out after hypnotising you once and a medic had to be rushed in. Needless to say, you weren't happy with his carelessness. And seeing how upset you were he agreed to be more careful with his health.

You didn't want to think anymore so as you lay there looking up at him with your tired eyes and weary mind, he smiles. He caresses your face and hair before taking a deep breath and reciting that familiar chant.

"Oh triple faced soul, allow me to take hold of this one's mind and soothe them of all worries and burdens. The word Beloved will be the catalyst for control."

With that simple incantation your mind belonged to Sunday for a short while. Your mind felt fuzzy and slow but not unpleasantly, the way it would when you achieved complete relaxation. 

Like he had done before, he would take you through your nightly routine with this hypnosis.

"Beloved, follow me to to the bathroom." He helped you up while your body automatically followed his words and stood up. 

Walking was about the most complex task you could complete, he wasn't Xipe Themself, so his power only went so far. 

"Beloved, lift your arms." 

You do as told and he aids in stripping you, ready to be cleaned. 

"Beloved, sit on this stool and close your eyes." 

You again do as told his voice muffled through the layers of hypnosis, but soothing nonetheless. "I am going to wash your face first darling." He always narrates what he does before doing it as not to startle you.

You felt a cool, wet, cloth glide over your face and you can't help but sigh with satisfaction. You feel it gently caress your cheeks and softly rub your eyes tickle behind your ears. You hear the cloth being rinsed and wrung, the muffled sounds of the water soothing you further.

"I am going to wash your upper body now darling." And, as before, you feel the damp cloth glide over your neck and upper body, letting him move you has he sees fit. Soft humming coming from him lulls you deeper into his hypnosis. The cloth glides down and caresses your chest before moving to wash your back. You'd make sounds of relaxed satisfaction if you could but your exhausted body coupled with the hypnosis has made your brain devoid of any thought or control. Just how you want it. 

He moves back to the front of you with a new cloth. "Beloved, spread your legs, I need to clean you." 

Your body complies without hesitation and that's what he does, making sure to be extra gentle around this sensitive area. He is thorough but doesn't linger long this time, not wanting to spark anything in you this evening.

Standing to switch the cloth again, "I'm going to wash your legs and feet now darling." Still being as gentle as ever his hands and the cloth slowly makes their way down your legs massaging them as they go. A light massage is given to your feet as well before he finishes and pats you dry with a towel before he deems your body clean.

"Beloved, open your mouth wide." 

He orders next, your mind too fuzzy to think of what else could be doing. You hear more water then feel a hand on your chin. "I'm going to brush your teeth darling." Then light scrubbing of your teeth and tongue can be felt, he is thorough with this area too. Not wanting to be the reason you have cavities he takes his time. Not too long later he finishes with you. You can hear things being put away and muffled sounds of him walking around you, maybe inspecting you. Before he stops in front and, 

"Beloved, open your eyes and stand up. Its time to go to bed."

You're led back into the bedroom now that he is satisfied that you are clean. "Beloved, are you ready to sleep?" 

Compelled to answer, you do. "yes"

"Beloved, do you want to sleep with me?"

"Yes"

"Good, let's get to sleep then shall we." 

The sounds of fabric and draws is all you hear for a moment before he guides you into bed with him. 

"Beloved, lay down." 

When he's satisfied you are comfortable You feel his soft skin against yours, the wings on his head lightly brushing your face in reverence before he pulls them back. It isn't often he blesses you with his naked body, the vulnerability gets to him at times. 

Once you've laid down and he's pulled you close he asked one more question.

"Beloved, are you ready to be released from hypnosis?"

"Yes"

As the words leave your lips he begins the incantation to remove his influence on your mind. 

"Oh triple faced soul, this one has completed this ones tasks and can now be freed from the shackles of my control with no burden."

Everything goes still as your senses return slowly, reacclimating you to reality. A few minutes pass of him softly stroking your head and neck while you come back to him.

"Thank you Sunday" a soft whisper conveying how grateful you are before you promptly pass out the exhaustion and relaxation hitting you full force as you melt into the bed and his arms.

"Oh my beloved, I'd do anything to see you happy and relaxed like this more often. I am grateful for all you do for me so it's only natural. I love you, so much my beloved."

He whispers to your sleeping self, pressing small kisses to your forehead, cheeks and nose. Watching the small twitches at the contact makes his evening and he feels like he too can finally relax.

[star--anon]

Thominewt Roadtrip Headcanons !

yay!

Well, first off, Minho is the only one of these losers to even have a driver's license.

Despite this, Thomas will make up for it by... Backseat driving the hell out of Minho. "Turn right! Turn right! Oh wait, no, Apple Maps says go forward for another 8 miles. Sorry." "Minho, the speed limit is 86mph, you're going 87!!" "Minho-"

Minho ends up turning his hearing aid off for most of the drive. It's mostly for show, though. He can still hear through his right ear (which is, unfortunately, the one Thomas is shouting in). But it does get Thomas to shut up about his driving for a few minutes.

Until there's a gas station, anyway. Then Thomas is immediately forcing Minho to pull over because this man? This man is so big on snacks. He's got 'em all organized by vibes and behaviors. Chocolate-y snacks for when he's feeling tired, beef jerky for when he just wants something to munch on, gummies for when he's chatting with Newt and Minho, crackers for when he's staring out the window and listening to music...

Speaking of music, Don't. Touch. Newt's radio. Doesn't matter if it's Minho's car. It's Newt's playlist. He's going to decide the music. It's one of the few things Minho's smart enough to not argue with him on.

A lot of people think Thomas would be the one chatting away, but it's actually Newt. Newt's the one pulling Minho out of that autopilot Driver Brain Numbness to chat, Newt's the one convincing Thomas to take his headphones off (he picked a playlist just for this road trip and Thomas wants to listen to his own music? rude).

The man needs his closeness. His love language is quality time and you can't change my mind. He revels in the comfortable silence as the three do their own things together, and he basks in the amiable chatter between his boyfriends (except for when Minho starts dunking on cats during their classic Cats VS Dogs convo, but every fantasy has a few holes).

Speaking of love languages, Minho's is acts of kindness (again, you can't change my mind). And it shows when he overpacks so much.

Oh, what if Thomas gets cold? What if Newt's ankle starts acting up? Compression helps with ankle pains, right? He should bring sixty blankets for a 3-day trip, right? He brings back-up toothbrushes (because Newt forgets his at motels sometimes), brings weighted blankets (Thomas hates the motel ones; they're so light), brings ten gallons of moisturizer (Newt hates dry skin), brings a taser (a bit much, but safety is good), brings a waffle machine (a little weird, but Thomas is adamant that waffles are just pancakes but better), brings a saxophone (okay, that one might just be odd), brings a horse saddle (Minho stop-)

Newt makes everyone write a list of all the stuff they're bringing so they don't forget their things when they're coming home (Minho's list is ten miles long). The first thing Newt writes on his own list is spare hearing aid batteries. It's the one thing Minho never bothers to worry about when he's (over)packing. He knows Newt will bring it.

Thomas sits backseat. Sometimes, if the trunk can't fit all their things, they'll have to put some stuff in the backseat, and Thomas ends up a little squashed. But that's okay. Newt tries to offer him passenger seat, but Thomas turns it down each time. He likes the backseat, it's where he can kiss the back of his boyfriends' necks.

(He's tried kissing Newt from the passenger's seat. It doesn't work as well. Also he once kicked Minho in the face trying to do so.)

[accirax]

so... exciting announcement... i was hired to work on Reality Resort as a storyboard artist!

for those of you who haven't heard, Reality Resort is a Total Drama-inspired show on YouTube, produced by Cove and animated by Odd Nation Cartoons. its pilot episode just dropped a few hours ago!

to be clear, i didn't contribute at all to the first episode-- i was only hired about a week ago to contribute on episode 2 and beyond. speaking of, it'll be a lot easier for us to make episode 2 and beyond with more support for the show, so please consider checking out the pilot if the show sounds up your ally. the team is super cool and welcoming, and i've had a ton of fun with what i've worked on so far.

as for this blog, given that i'm now part of the show's staff, i won't be making any sorts of speculative content about Reality Resort or any of the other planned shows in the Reality Gauntlet. this is obviously because i know things the average viewer doesn't, and because i wouldn't want anything i was genuinely blindly speculating on to be interpreted as fact/a hint. however, Disventure Camp content (as well as all of the usual stuff) will continue as normal! (other than that i now have a bit less free time :,) )

anyways, i hope any of you who do decide to check it out will enjoy! as Cove has said in the comments, the first episode isn't perfect, and there are still plenty of quirks to iron out in the future. but, i think that the future of the show is looking bright, and i and the rest of the team appreciate any support you're willing to give. :)

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

I kinda feel like earlier should have served as a wake up call, as something that made me go actually, I don't want this to continue. But it didn't. I'm going to keep on using behaviours and doing stupid reckless things that could send me to my grave real early. I don't care. I feel like I probably should. But I just don't.

[cevans-is-classic]

Oh buddy

[mikeywriting]

Prologue Chapters

So! It's here. Just the first four. These are just drafts though, none of these chapters are permanent and are subject to further change. The intent of posting this draft is to give you my audience a chance to take a look inside and see what I got cooking. Differing writing styles - you might notice that each chapter's writing style is more different than the others. This is intended. Each character has their own perspective and thus a writing style to accompany it.

Intents - to introduce you to the characters of my story and a bit about who they are.

Nitpick as you like, I could always use the extra pair of eyes.

Withour further ado,

Lighteater: Tales of Willowfield

Chapter 1

Brothers On The Wind

“Winter was coming to its bitter end that year. The island of Willowfield was slowly beginning to defrost from ‘the long sleep,’ as most locals called it. Me, my big brother, and Mason just moved here. Willowfield is alright, the woods are unbearably thick; you could easily get lost if you wandered just a few inches from the trail, but things like that never stopped me. I like getting lost, I always find my own way back because Mason always helps me find a way out. . . I’ve had visions again, these ones were much clearer. When we got here, I saw a bunch of ‘ghost-children’ by the shore and by the trail, the children that got lost, their voices lost in this great hall of time, calling out for their mothers and fathers. I don’t like this place too much for that but, Mason loves it, he can’t get enough of the snow. In Eksura, we were lucky if we could afford the time to go on a trip to the north but here, we live in the north. As long as my sweet dragon babe loves this place, I know I’ll love it too.”

-Tsujiro 

Howard looked at his brother from their new house, a slight grin across his face to rid him of his guilt. Three days on the sea wasn’t as troublesome as the trouble Tsujiro got back home. His little brother would always get in some sort of trouble for stealing, fighting, or being tricked by the older kids. It got even worse when he began to receive visions.’ He claimed one day that he saw the Grand Sage and the fabled Emperor speaking to each other in the deep woods. Everyone called him crazy and for that, he got in even more trouble. Tsujiro was a lot of things but a liar he was not. The worst part though was that Howard knew that Tsujiro wasn’t lying about his visions; he knew they were real. Howard and the rest of his family possess something familiar. But to protect Tsujiro, the truth could never be told. Not until the right time, so he thought.

While he let Tsujiro and Mason play in the woods, Howard took to the house’s utilities. The plumbing is said to be decent around Starfield, so he checked the faucets. When he turned the tap, he swore to all that he knew was holy that he heard something whisper from in it.

“Krick. . . krack. . .the. . . time. . . attack. . . krick. . .”

Its voice was weak and rough and it echoed from within before letting loose a sudden burst of water. When the water ran, the voice was slowly being overtaken before disappearing. Howard thought himself insane or at least halfway there. He turned off the faucet and then on again, but nothing other than water came out. He took a deep breath and moved on. He thought that it must have just been stress from the trip to Willowfield and Tsujiro… He looked out the window and could no longer see Tsujiro. No shadow, no voice, nothing. So he ran to where he saw him last. A large boulder where the sun shines upon its flat podium like top. He called out.

“Tsujiro! Mason!”

Hoping for them to answer back. But the only thing that heard him were the crows that flocked about. The fluttering of large midnight wings were the only sounds that reciprocated his shouting. He shouts again. “Tsujiro! Come on, it's time to go home. The sun is setting. . .”

He looked to the blue gray clouds where scarlet slivers of sunset scant cover it like veins.

“Tsujiro!”

He wouldn’t stop until he heard him. But stop he did, because he heard something other than the nature that engulfed him. Hearts beating. One strong and firm, the other weak yet defiant. He could hear them coming northward. So he ran in hopes that his gift would serve him the way he needs it to. With each step that plunged into the ground, he could hear them getting louder.

“Help. . . me. . .”

The sound of his brother’s voice. Light and young, like a fledgling’s first crest.

“I’m coming for you.” He said to himself with heroic intent to save his brother, he ran as quickly as his boots would carry him. That desire to save his brother would however, face a peculiar problem. An atrocity to humankind’s eyes. It was something he would never want to see again in any part of his life. It shook him to his heart’s very beating. Rending the soul’s sanity and piercing him through his chest, it felt like a heavy breath of wind entered his chest and never left. Its seething mass was grotesque and bent in ways that should not be possible, but alas, he witnesses them defy goodness. This shambling mound of horrors presented itself in front of him, one tendril carrying the helpless Tsujiro and Mason.

“Howard!”

Tsujiro yelled out. Howard wanted to run, wanted it to end, whichever was fastest. He just wanted to stop seeing it. Voices in his head flooded like a harbor wave. They wouldn’t stop tormenting him, possessing his body to do things he was not yet doing but knew he did or felt like he did. It split him into pieces beyond recognition. He couldn’t even remember his own name then nor the year Tsujiro was born. He forgot himself. Until. . . 

“I need you!”

It was always those words that would have him by the throat. No matter how much it split him apart, this one piece was always the same. It was like a binding by his core. His brother needs him and nothing can stop him from doing just that. Not even this abomination of reality. Clasping his loose fists, Howard couldn’t bear the pain, but he couldn’t resist the call. Legs rushed and ran with reckless abandon, right arm primed for a reckless haymaker. He swung as he approached but. . . whiffed. It was a sinking feeling in his gut, a feeling of failure. Before feeling a sudden rush of energy. The ground obeyed his wish. He could not recall the exact events but it was like he became a part of the ground or perhaps it was the ground that became a part of him. The ‘thing’ if it could even be called that. Would soon find itself buried in the rubble of the mountain’s foot and Howard would find himself walking home, Tsujiro laid asleep on his arms as Mason followed. His eyes were numb, his mind was wounded, and his body was spent. The air was lighter but not without cost. He was not in his right mind but many pieces of him knew that they had to keep it together. Because in their hands, lay the most precious thing in their world.

“So keep it together.”

He muttered to himself with cold unfeeling eyes that gazed into the dark fields. As they walked home, Howard would slowly convince himself to wake up. No matter how comforting the lifeless ground was, he had to stay awake. Especially for Tsujiro. He was always a troublesome kid, but he never means ill without any well. He’s important, he’s the most precious things, he’s touched by the divine gift. A gift beyond the conception of human history. A gift that kept them safe and he has the gift to fell nations whole or build worlds off a whim. He was. . .

“My brother.”

His eyes fluttered. The last thing he could remember was the sight of something he couldn’t remember. It held his brother until he smacked it with what felt like the force of a train.

“We’re different, you and I.”

He told his unconscious brother.

“You’re more special though. I don’t know why, but I feel it is so.”

He laid him down on the dusty old sofa and washed his face, unbothered and completely moved on from the dreadful thing he had just experienced. He had work to do after all. Work for him and for his brother.

“Goodnight, Howard.”

Chapter 2

Guns and Willow Trees

“Willow trees. It’s my favorite type of tree. It is said that their bark and leaves are so sacred that they ward off all evil. I spend my time in the spring and summer underneath one I call, Goody’s Hollow, named after my surname. Its bark is strong and sturdy, enough that it could easily survive a monster’s attacks. There’s a hollow inside that I can crawl in for safety and I placed talismans made of its shedded branches around it. This way, I’ll know for sure that my hollow is safe from the 

Darkness.

The other kids are still afraid of me. I asked them if they wanted to see my hollow the other day, but they stared at me with such disgust that it pierced my heart. I felt wounded, felt horrible, felt like a monster in their eyes. But maybe it is true. I’ve seen things beyond their comprehension, I could stare into the void and point my gun at it without trembling, nothing can terrify me the way I scare them.”

-Connor Goody

Connor Goody. Disgraced bastard son of two figures just as mysterious as his own birth and existence. The only two souls on the island kind enough to harbor the like of him were Ella and Emily Goody. Everyone believes the two to be widows who live alone together, others think them sisters, very few rumor them a couple. Out of all of Willowfield’s towns, they chose to live in the Lonewood hills where their little cabin housed the once little, Connor Goody.

He was unlike any other child. He would tell stories that no one’s ever heard of before. Most of the time, they would be the morbid ways a person died from some far off century or a guide on how to ride a horse; which some people found to be an awful idea. You would never want to be around a horse. Especially horses in Willowfield. He spoke with such impunity and confidence that people began to think of a madchild of him. His eccentrism was beyond what they could understand as he spouted what seemed to be insanities at the time. They would come to accept him for his freakish behavior and that perhaps he was just born beneath the light of a dark star.

Connor’s life in school was a brambling mess. Academically, a few of his teachers thought him a revolutionary, the others thought of him as a babbling schizophrenic. Despite what they may think of him though, there was one fact about his unpredictable nature that they knew for sure. He was their smartest and that was something they knew wouldn’t lead to any good. Socially, students laughed at him, either as the class jester or a purposeful oaf but they would soon come to fear him as well. In his youth, Connor acted with absurd zeal and recklessness, with such innocence in his soul. They never thought him capable of making a weapon, and to bring that weapon in their classroom to show off. Loaded with lead shrapnel and cocked with a hammer’s strike, it spared little mercy for the thick walls of their classroom. Its iron barrel smoked with the smell of brimstone. The wooden chassis and stock strangely, did not catch fire nor did it deconstruct from the force.When the teacher saw the destruction wrought by his weapon, Connor became something worse than fear. They looked at him and no longer saw a boy in his silhouette. His ‘Shrapnel Cannon’ was confiscated and the professors discussed among themselves, the fate of a little boy who became unfathomable. In a compromise of mercy and hope, Connor Goody was left to be homeschooled under the provision of Willowfield Academy. That day was his mind’s very unraveling. He realized that he’d become a force of nature, something they would dread because he was inevitable. If they crossed paths with him, they were surely destined to be destroyed. Unsure of this destiny, he often pondered in silence. His mind was the only sanctuary he could spill his own thoughts in. It was only ever so often when he’d spill beyond the confines of his mind palace and truly let people see who he was. And often, what spills was something utterly disturbing.

. . . “It's okay, everything is okay.” He muttered as he heard from beyond his hollow, the wailing and walloping of an unknown creature. He took deep breaths, trying to recover from the long and depriving sprint he’d taken to get here.

“The hollow protects me. The hollow protects me. The hallowed protects me.”

He rocked back and forth, pondering what to do next. The talisman would not hold the raging and reaving of this dark abomination for any longer. Soon, the claws of the bear it disguised as will strike strong enough to fell the fragile twigs planted to the ground.

“Heed me well, little child. When your little tricks are exhausted, I will not make your death easy. You will suffer as you’ve made me hunger. You’re the one who freed me from that accursed seal, you’re the one who let me in, now let me FEAST.”

Its voice was disgusting, like a feral beast who hungered not because it starved but simply because of gluttony. It was the voice of a person well-kept and charming, but a person it was not. Its pitch black tendrils shaped like bramble vines crawled out and moved unnaturally swift from within the bear’s mouth. Another, far larger tendril extended from a wound on its chest, striking with the lead of the other tendril.

Connor was hesitant, his left hand was placed upon a box where in it lay dormant, the very treasure he sold his soul to the demon for.  A treasure he wanted back. Whether it was for any important reason or not, something beckoned him to get it back despite the cost.

“No. I can’t use it. What would momma say?”

He spoke to himself.

“She’d want us to stay safe.”

“But I don’t want to-“

“Don’t want to do what? Stay alive? You don’t want to see mom again?”

“I don’t want to become a monster!”

“We were born one!”

He was silent. Nearly bringing himself to tears over his own conversation. He took the key from his pocket and unlocked the box.

“Fix yourself, Connor. We don’t cry. We’re different. We have to do this. It is our duty.”

He nodded.

When the talismans gave way, the beast smiled. Its malformed grin revealed the half-rotting insides of the bear. Each step was a heavy symphony of doom and anticipation. It salivated umbral colored liquids that spill with the consistency of molasses.

“My little… sacrifice…I’m collecting my end of… the bargain…”

As the tendrils lifted the willow tree’s leaves, it was met with a sudden glimpse into hell. Yes, there was a monster here, and it was no longer this freakish abomination. It was a stout young boy wearing a raincoat. He held with his left hand, a hand cannon far larger than he should be able to carry. His brown hair glowed orange in the merciless fire that emitted from the barrel, the same light would reflect from his circle framed glasses as the smoke covered the lens with winter frost. His grimace would turn to an awful grin, one that delighted in the damage he caused. He looked at the poor thing and marveled at the flesh bits that scattered. It exposed the “creature” within. It was a shambling mound of would-be horrors made of black umbral matter with the consistency of tar. It would move and struggle but regrow in places lightning-quick.

“I like this.” 

He muttered. With this thumb, he pulled back the hammer and aimed for what seemed to be its core: a spherical mass that bulged and beat like a heart.

A loud click rang through his head and he woke up.

Connor fell asleep in his hollow again. Box in hand, his arms and shirt covered with ink from his inkpot. His journal did not survive it either. A large ugly blot mark was left on it that looked vaguely familiar.

“I didn’t like that.”

While he scrambled and prepared to leave, Connor’s eyes were distracted. The yellow-flared morning light made gold of all that it touched and rudely invaded past his hollow’s covers….His misery eroded quickly with the sun’s gentle touch. He slung his raincoat over his shoulder and walked with a slight spring in his step.

“Debts to be paid and explanations to be made,” Inhale…exhale… “but today, I’ll smile.”

Chapter 3

Deep Breaths

He took a deep breath, taking in the dark night’s view of the town. Its lights illuminated the wet and heavy fog. If you squinted, they would look like spirits floating in the void. Aaron held in his hands the skull of a Willowfield Horse. A beast of might and unrivaled courage, they ruled the lands and still, they continue their reign to the present day. This horse skull was the skull of his father’s dearest friend within the woods. That night, he donned the coat his father often wore. A leather coat made from the skin of a bull. It was tough but the leather had begun to crack and peel.

“I grew into it.”

His eyes were unfocused, lost in his own thoughts.

“But the guilt doesn’t leave.”

He put aside the skull and began to dig into the soft mud, excavating the roots of the grass.

“We all used to go up here. Now it’s just me.”

Mindlessly, he took a finger and began to draw something on the mud. He drew it as if he’d done this a thousand times before. The cold chills it brought didn’t bother him, not one bit.

“Tell me. Where did you go?”

When he was done, he took the skull and placed it amid the circle.

He took a deep breath.

Aaron Crowe, one born so peculiar as to possess powers beyond his own imaginings. That stars to him were more than twinkling rocks beyond the sky’s reach. That to him, the wind tells secrets hidden far kept in the deepest corners of the mind. His body and soul were attuned deeply to the universe, rooted deep like trees ancient and unmoved for centuries. Despite the torturous noises, visions, and hallucinations, he lived and appeared like a normal child. The true nature of his existence, hidden behind plain books, white polo shirts, and overalls. Within, was something sinister yet graceful in a way only angels could ever be.

Suffice to say, life was not simple for him. But grace was spared on him, for many more mysteries continue to envelop his past and his future. It all started with the mysterious disappearance of his father. The only thing he left were his most precious belongings: the skull of a willowfield horse and his old coat. He promised to Aaron that he would return in one week’s time but it’s been years. Aaron was just a boy then, but soon, when the sun rises, he would become a young man. His mother used to be an open book who wore her heart on her sleeve, but ever since her husband left, she’d become reserved, her once loud and energetic heart had closed itself off from the world. Her love remained but she never ran like she did, sang her little poems of love, nor did she dance like no one was watching. It was this shift that made the things inside Aaron’s mind to grow stronger and louder. Until they whispered in his ears. And they did not sound like devils or angels nor were they ghosts. They whispered because they were far and their voices could scant be heard. Its speech was smooth like slick, silvered like holy objects, and spoke of hellfire and brimstone. They would prod and poke, playing with his heartstrings like a fiddle. It was a darkness within him that he let fester and isolate him. There was no point in fighting back, he was born this way, born wrong -cursed.

So there he knelt, taking deep breaths as his clothes were stained with the night’s sin and stained with the long-dried blood of those devoured by history. He gave in to the demands of this… thing. It claimed itself a king, a salvation from his lonely idleness, a bearer of wisdom that would give him everything he wanted, as long as he fell the pillar that sealed him. It crawled from the ground, a strange goop that crawled and struggled. Its voice sounded like the clicking of a thousand beetles, and its eyes scattered across its formless unholy body. It mimicked the shape of his body, mirroring every part, copying what it sees.

“We love you.”

He didn’t budge or hesitate, he didn’t care. But he felt something unfamiliar.

“Let us… embrace…”

Its arms spread wide, the dark goop unfurled wide as if to copy the gesture of hugging. It stumbled and struggled, inching closer and closer to him. A cold and striking wind crawled into his skin.

“We… are the same…”

As soon as it touched him, Aaron felt a chill like never before, it crawled through his chest, down his spine, and pierced his heart. It was like death. Slowly, the thing burrowed into his heart, blackening its pale red beating, becoming one with it.

“Now we… are… alive…”

He took a deep breath.

All that was left here were the smashed pieces of a small white pillar, the ground beneath it slowly consuming each piece, planting the rocks like tombstones. The horse skull was left untouched but dimly glows with a strange power Aaron could sense.

“Do not touch it…”

Aaron ignored the voices as he often did and touched the skull. Upon feeling the smooth dry surface, he was met with a burning sensation. His fingers recoiled as the heat grew but no fire was around to make it.

“It rejects us… you… but we… we love you…”

He felt disgusted with himself. What has he done, letting a stranger in his heart.

“You were empty. Your heart had a hole only WE could fill.”

Their voices grow louder, their grasp of his body is stronger than before, almost like they’ve begun to possess him. In resistance he’d doff his father’s coat, nearly subjecting himself to their control.

“Do what we say, Aaron, we know what’s good for you.”

And wrapped the skull in it.

“You’re no longer you.”

He was no longer himself.

“Crowfoot.”

As he carried home what felt like a ball of flame, truth began to spill into his ears. His pale olive skin, frail as paper, his soul was black as ink, dark as void. He ran and he ran, he did and he learned, but those lessons, he couldn’t use them. He’d gone and lost himself in a cave, wherein lies a beast starved for a thousand years.

He could barely utter a word, he was shivering as he ran through the wet hills, his mouth was barred with guilt, his gut ached with regret. What have you done? “Mom…”

His regrets had come to spiral, the thoughts and the should haves and should not have, ceaselessly scolded him. They pelted his back like hail and hit his head with rocks.

“Mom…”

But in the chaos of distress and disarray, one memory comes to mind.

“Mom…”

 He took a deep breath.

What have you done?

Chapter 4

Don’t Be Afraid

“Mistakes. I make thousands of them. I’m so tired of making them. I can’t ever make one but I do. All the time. So here I am, sitting beside my window. Wondering: what could’ve been.”

Christine Lee, seventeen years of age, stands as the epitome of excellence. Her collar was clean as the day it was bought. The same could be said for her boots, her gloves, and handkerchief. Not a drop of blood or spit spilled from her, not even in childhood. She was always the reserved sort, never raised her voice, ran her mouth or talked back. She was the town’s ‘golden girl.’

But within lay the desire to let loose, to break free from the white-gray stone cocoon of hers, to become who she could’ve been.

Lately, this desire of hers has become obsessive. To the point of her keeping twigs, rocks, and shiny pieces of scrap left near forest trails. Obsessing over what they were, where they came from, and the scent on them. She would hide her little trinkets and tchotchkes in sub-compartments of her drawers, wardrobes, or underneath her floorboards.

She would journal her findings and the things she suspects them to have originated from. Each entry goes into at least two paragraphs of extremely detailed hypothesis, conclusion, and footnotes on the discovery of an object. One note she could never forget was when she met a peculiar lady in the forest.

“I think she was the same age as me. She was beautiful, her white curly hair looked like willow tree leaves. She wore a pair of shaded spectacles and her clothes were dirty. When I said hello, she turned around and I saw the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen my entire life. Her skin was brown as oak, oily and dirty, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her smile was brighter than the afternoon sunlight, even now I still think of her, I think she was talking to the plants when I met her. She referred to them as her friends who told her things. Turns out, she’s blind! I was confused and bewildered. How was she not afraid? How was she not scared to get lost? But she had this devil may care attitude. She was carefree and well… free. I think we’re friends now. She told me to meet again at the same spot, but I’m worried she’ll get lost. I told her this and she just looked at me and smiled before running off.”

Camilla Flos Bechard. Despite her blindness, Flos was never one to be afraid. Perhaps that was another thing was born without but regardless of that, her bravery is something peculiar and unfamiliar to the people of Starfield. To her, the world was a playground and the word risk was just a word in the dictionary.

It was in the thick of the wood where she would find something truly extraordinary. The plants spoke to her. They were like people but nicer and they would tell her their names, their stories, what they’ve heard, and who they felt. They were just like her, they couldn’t see but they could feel the world around them. They can hear songs from times beyond the birth of her grandmother, they still hear them then.

“I want to hear it too.”

So they embraced. She ate of their fruits and their leaves and spoke the words only they understood.

And she saw what they saw. The ground unending, the world revolving, the skies unmoving. And heard what they heard. The natives of Starfield, the megafauna that had long ago existed and bonded with humanity, the voice of a prophet and the war his daughter ended.

She was scared but they told her not to be.

“Trust us.”

It whispered. Flos was not sure anymore, her brave disposition was displaced, she truly was a girl lost in the woods.

“You are our friend. You hear us. You know who- whom we were.”

And she was their child, they’ve watched over her since she was a babe.

“I trust you.”

With trembling hands she reached out and the trees held her hands. They guided her with one step to another, then another, until she could run. Life was a playground for her was a playground. There was another thing she heard from the memories of these trees. The pain and suffering caused by an entity made of ink and hell. It was no celestial being, not a human, nor was it some sort of beast. It was a monster beyond sight. That all who looked upon its horror shattered into a million pieces as if looking into the void as if it had already defeated them by burrowing into their hearts, by making them afraid of everything.

“Will it return?”

“It wills its return.”

[voidgremlin]

i can't believe how angry i got about words have meanings. Like you can losely use every term you want in the end. Like im sure with the idea in mind it fits. But when arguments and trying to make essay and stuff, i beg of you please look up the term you use.

Internet got so used to use buzzwords to make an impact then it's starting to make all text incoherent.

Just looking up definitions... Please

[hungrydogs-if]

it's finally time, ladies and gentlemen. not gonna lie, my heart is going absolutely insane with nerves. but!! it's time for it. ahhhh!

THE (TEENY TINY) DEMO FOR HUNGRY DOGS IS LIVE.

it's not long, (19.4k words w/o commands) but it needs to spread its wings, otherwise i might go insane lol. you still have some choices to make in the intro, but it's just that; an intro. no groundbreaking choices yet. it's more like exposition.

anyway, here's a little list of stuff you can do;

get your personal prisoner number!

therapy, yay!

remember your friends

relive the worst night of your life

meet someone who actually cares about you!

eat pudding cups idk

i hope you enjoy. it's been too long in the making, and not i can finally focus on continuing instead of going back to the intro like 423 times.

feedback and constructive criticism is welcomed, just keep it kind and polite <3

[akumakosuke]

Yay, I finally finished the first chapter of my new fic...

†Our cursed love†

This is my first time writing an actual fic so it might not be that good, constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged! I would really like to know your opinions on what I'm doing right and wrong, things I should change and so forth.

A little PS this is not going to be absolutely canon, there will be some changes to the lore and techniques so be warned. I am also fully up to date on the manga so there will be manga spoilers.

Please enjoy the first chapter of ‡Our cursed love‡.

No warnings

~_Our cursed love._~

Chapter 1- Our pedestal.

~No one POV:~

The day is like any other day to most people. The sun blazing high in the bright blue sky, perfect white fluffy clouds dot the sky, moving along swiftly with the breeze. The sound of streets full of vehicles and streets full of people fills the air.

The day was like any other to non-sorcerers.

They all go about their lives, completely oblivious to the two Gods currently walking among them, blissfully unaware of the evil seeking to destroy these two Gods.

The day was like any other to the two Gods. Aware they’re being hunted but unaware of each other.

It’s true what they say, ‘ignorance is bliss’ and our two Gods will have to learn that lesson the hard way.

~3rd Person POV~

A young boy, around the age of 9 walks with an unusually cold face for a child wearing a blue hoodie with beige shorts and black sneakers. His expression isn’t the only eye catching thing about him, his eyes are quite simply breathtaking. Strikingly brilliant sky blue orbs. His short, fluffy white hair gently swaying in the breeze.

To passers by he seems like a relatively normal child with oddly spectacular looks but normal is not a word fit to describe this God.

Satoru Gojo decided to take a trip to Shibuya for no other reason than boredom. He knows it’s ‘dangerous’ because of the many, many bounties on his head but does he care? No, of course not.

Why would he care? He’s a ‘God’ right? All these fools are beneath him, besides its clear that none of them would even be a problem, he might be 9 but he knows his place in this world, he knows the ‘blessing’ he’s been born with and he knows how to use it -albeit not well- one glare is enough to dissuade anyone crazy enough to target him.

He can sense them all around him, thinking they’re hiding their cursed energy well but nothing can get past his six eyes, nothing.

~10 minutes earlier~

A young boy with long grey hair tied into a neat pony wearing a (f/c) shirt and (2/f/c) pants that are clearly too big for him and a pair of (f/c) boots steps out of a fancy black car in the middle of Shibuya. The 9 year old closes the door and the car drives off, left unattended which would be odd if he were just a boy, although his expression is somewhat normal for a boy his age, relatively bored, his eyes hidden by a pair of blacked out glasses with a circular frame.

He confidently makes his way through the busy streets, despite his small size he easily navigates a path through the much taller adults, some only sparing him a brief glance but none question why there’s a clear gap between him and everyone, a physically space none of them an seem to cross, naturally and absentmindedly moving around the boy to avoid it.

M/n Goto is aware of this gap as it’s intentional. He’s practicing although the few hungry pairs of eyes on him are distracting. M/n knows venturing out alone is ‘risky’ because of how valuable he is but hes a God isn’t he? Those fools are beneath him.

They’re clearly trying very hard to hide their cursed energy but alas it’s in vain, M/n sensed them following him since he left his estate. It’s not like any of them would be a problem for him, he knows his place in the world, he knows the ‘blessing’ he was born with and he knows how to use it -thanks to his loving father training him since he could walk-, one glare is enough to dissuade any idiotic enough to try and mess with a God, besides nothing can touch him without his permission, nothing.

~present time~

Destiny is a funny thing, many argue its existence.

If destiny exists then freedom cannot.

If freedom exists then destiny cannot.

Many argue its existence, many chose to deny its existence, they chose freedom.

The freedom of choice.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo do not believe in destiny.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo both chose to come to Shibuya today because they wanted to, they were bored and chose to do the riskiest thing by leaving unsupervised.

They both chose to walk this random street, they both decided they were tired of being followed and chose to turn around. A completely, random choice.

Completely random.

“Huh-?!”

“What-?!”

Time suddenly stops for two young, lonely, untouchable Gods.

M/n Goto and Satoru Gojo do not believe in destiny, so what is this feeling? Not the physical feeling of their shoulders colliding.

This sudden tug, this oddly familiar feeling like meeting a different version of yourself.

Luminous, sparkling sky blue orbs meet now uncovered blazing, blood red orbs and for the first time both are in absolutely awe of another’s appearance.

~M/n POV~

‘He- he bumped into me… his eyes… they’re… how did he-? This feeling… who is he, i feel like I should know… wait… he’s…’

~Satoru POV~

‘I didn’t sense him-? He touched me… i was sure i had it on… those eyes, they’re breathtaking… who is he? Why do i feel like I should know him? Wait… he’s…’

~3rd person POV~

“Cursed.” They both mumble at the same time causing both their eyes to widen, both taking a step back from the other.

The warm, carbon filled air suddenly feels a whole lot more suffocating, the feeling tugging at both of them gets stronger and they both know the other feels it.

It’s an odd sight, two unsupervised 9 year old standing in the middle of a busy Shibuya street just silently staring at each other in what can only be described as bewilderment.

For the longest time they’ve both believed them to have no equal. From the moment they opened their eyes they were forced to live in a word beneath them filled with people beneath them. They were put on pedestals so high no one else could ever hope to climb it and yet…

Their lonely pedestal is apparently bigger than they thought, all they had to do was turn around and be confronted with the other.

A shared pedestal is something everyone told them was impossible, they were born Gods among mortals, they were special, miracles, forever alone.

“Goto M/n…” M/n, finally regaining his brain, blurts out, feeling something he’s never felt before, nervous.

“Gojo Satoru…” Satoru eventually replies, having taken a few more seconds to recover and identify the unknown feeling in his chest, anxiety.

“We should probably lose them first before we talk…” M/n suggests, hesitantly turning his gaze away from Satoru and toward one of the groups of curse users currently hiding out in a tall building across the street with horror on their faces because the sheer amount of power coming from the two Gods is mind breaking.

Satoru turns his gaze towards another group hiding on a rooftop few building’s down with the same expression and hums in agreement. He slowly reaches out to grab M/n’s hand, he doesn’t know why but he just does.

The moment their skin makes contact they both jump, the feeling of physically touching another is so foreign, so intrusive yet so natural.

They quickly easy into the feeling, Satoru pulling M/n along and M/n following without complaint.

This action feels so normal it’s almost easy to forget the innocent looking 9 year old boys are running away from assassins hunting Gods not boys.

They both in this moment, forget they are Gods, they forget they are cursed, they both, even if only for a fleeting moment just feel like two normal boys, running freely through the streets of Shibuya, unsure of when they actually started running but unwilling to spend any time thinking about it.

They just run, the destination isn’t a concern to either of them and after running for what felt like both a lifetime and barely a second they stop in a dark, dirty alleyway, joyful laughter still bubbling from their chests as they catch their breath.

“Phew, I’m pretty sure we lost them.” Satoru comments as he leans against the wall, relaxing a bit more because he can’t sense anyone else.

“Hmm, it would be foolish of them to follow.” M/n adds, leaning on the opposite wall, also relaxing.

A short, comfortable silence envelopes the two Gods as their gazes lock, again being completely caught off guard by the other’s eyes. Millions of questions run through both of their minds, having finally found another like them is something they didn’t think possible , they were told it’s impossible.

“How… how did you touch me? Get past my barrier which I’m positive was active?” M/n asks incredulously, he should be absolutely horrified someone can bypass his technique but he isn’t.

Satoru looks at M/n in slight shock, now being made aware the other also had a barrier active at the time of contact.

“I… I don’t know, i also had a barrier active so maybe they cancelled out?” Satoru would have never thought he’d say that with such a casual tone, someone being able to bypass the one thing that makes him untouchable, he should see M/n as a threat but he doesn’t.

“So we both have a kind of barrier technique and they cancel out somehow… that should be horrifying right? Our one impenetrable defence rendered useless…” M/n���s voice drops to a low whisper but there’s no hint of defensiveness, simply taking in the fact he can be touched, he’s not unbeatable.

“It should but honestly it just makes me excited ya know?” Satoru chuckles, his eyes sparkling even more as his usual cold expression replaced a small grin, his heart is still pounding in his chest, the tugging feeling getting stronger the longer the talks to M/n.

M/n mirrors Satoru’s expression, feeling the same pounding in his chest, the tugging feeling moving his feet forward as he takes a seat on the floor next to Satoru, his barrier preventing his clothes from getting dirty. Satoru quickly joins him, activating his own barrier to stay clean.

Although both of them are just 9 years old, being born basically ‘God’s’ they naturally possessed some basic control of their techniques, both already having trained to use their techniques for a few hours none stop before they get tired.

“It is isn’t, my entire life I’ve been told no one would be able to challenge me and I thought how boring that sounds, they said I stand on a pedestal made for Gods and that I alone stand atop it, atop everyone else and then I thought how… lonely that sounded…” M/n says, pulling his legs to his chest as he rests his head on his knees, looking at his new found friend.

Satoru adopts the same pose, his mind and soul filled with pure joy as M/n speaks because he understands, he understands so well and he never thought someone else would understand.

“Mhm, they called me blessed my entire life, a miracle. Showering me in praises and gifts alike, telling me how special I am, how I’m better than everyone else. They also call me a God, put me on a pedestal too tall for a kid… They don’t see the view from the top, they don’t see how big and empty that pedestal is…”

M/n listens to Satoru, there’s something freeing in listening to him speak, like a weight lifted off his shoulders, the weight of being called the strongest and the loneliness that comes with it, a weight no 9 year old should even have to know about.

“Well it was big and empty but perhaps we can share it?” M/n asks with a hopeful tone, somehow already knowing he doesn’t really need to ask.

“I… I would like that. Our pedestal?” Satoru has never felt this type of excitement, the idea of sharing, being equal to someone else, of not being alone is enough to make him feel like a normal kid.

“Our pedestal.” M/n repeats, the word ‘our’ rolling off his tongue so naturally.

“So what do you normally do for fun? When you’re actually allowed to do what you want ?” Satoru asks, clearly excited to do whatever friends do when they hang out, he’s excited because he doesn’t really known what others do because he’s never bothered to pay attention to anyone else, they were beneath him so there was no point in getting to know them but now, now he’s never been more interested in another.

M/n grins, suddenly standing up and looking down at Satoru with a sparkles in his already spectacular eyes. Satoru still can’t believe he likes someone else’s eyes more than his own, his attention immediately glued on M/n. They both feel that tug again as M/n extends his hand towards Satoru, the idea of physical contact regardless of their barriers still seems so absurd but so enticing.

“Wanna find out?”

Satoru takes M/n’s hand, the unfamiliar warmth of another comforting their souls , penetrating their minds. M/n pulls Satoru up and their hands stay linked as they exit the alleyway, M/n leading the way, unknowingly staring the first chapter in a very long and dangerous book.

--------------------------------------------------

Tag list-

@itsgivingitalian

[oleander-nin]

TMNT: Mutant Mayhem Yandere Headcanons

A/N, not important: Saw the movie the day it came out, then did this before I forgot everything. I'm going to be making both yan and non yan bots of them soon, so yay. Sorry if any of them are OOC, I'm going off of memory. I'll tweak them once I can see the movie again. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: kidnap mentions, dark themes, yanderes, manipulation, stalking, ai, Mutant Mayhem spoilers

Words: 2246

Summary: Mutant Mayhem Yandere Headcanons

Mikey:

Mikey would be a dependent yandere with protective and manipulative tendencies.

Mikey cares for those around him and bonds quickly, but you, you’re a human. You’re everything he’s ever wanted to be.

You’re human, you’re perfect, and you’re his.

He is constantly worried about you, almost like a mother hen. Once he realizes how the human body is more fragile and weaker than his own, he gets really protective about you.

He doesn’t go about it well though. Mikey wants to hang out with you the way he knows how, and that usually involves some sketchy or dangerous stunts. Despite his worry for your safety, he still drags you into unnecessarily dangerous areas because he wants to show off or play hero. He does get upset when you get hurt, and he tries to save you when something happens, but he doesn't stop bringing you into the situations in the first place.

He wants to impress you and keep you interested in him. He’s still paranoid that everyone might forget the good they’ve done and decide to cast them away, so he is in constant need of approval.

He treats you like royalty, to the best of his ability of course. You’re his first priority when it comes to most things. If anyone tries to harass you, he’s quick to step up and use his influence to shut it down. Or force if needed.

Mikey’s aloof and in constant need of your praise and attention. He just wants to be able to hang out with you, but he does understand you can’t do everything he can. Which is why he takes you along anyway so you can depend on him. He just wants you to see he’s needed. Love him so he can keep loving you.

Needs you around him constantly, his mental health relies on it. You’re everything to him, and he doesn’t even realize as he puts more and more of his burdens onto you. You’re his everything.

Uses the fact he never had much social interaction to brush off anything weird he does. Mind you, he completely knows he’s in the wrong, he just doesn’t care much. He slowly deteriorates your will until you depend on him too, making you think everything is normal. He just wants normal, but he realizes he’ll never truly have that. So, he makes his own.

Mikey also wouldn’t hurt you, or at least, not on purpose. You deserve the world, but sometimes the things he drags you into don’t go as well as he wants. In those cases, Mikey leaves with you in tow, fretting over you the entire time. He never wants to hurt you, he just wants you to be happy with him. He’s gotten really good at bandaging you over the time he’s known you.

Mikey would wait until you’re both older before kidnapping you. He knows it wouldn’t go well, plus he can’t keep you anywhere in the lair. He might try and figure out how to run away with you, but he loves his family too much to try. He’d wait it out with you, loving you to the best of his twisted ability.

In the meantime, he makes sure you’re with him every step of the way. He pulls you in with cheesy pickup lines and jokes, trying to make you forget all the bad that has happened with him. 

Donnie:

Donnie was harder to pinpoint, but I think he’d definitely be a more delusional and stalking yandere. Possibly even an isolating one.

As always, Donnie seems to be the tech nerd, with his little bed fort including all these computers and electronics and such. He’s almost always on his phone, and knows how to navigate the digital world quite well, so he uses that to his advantage in a lot of ways.

He’s always watching you, and has massed hundreds of pictures and videos of you on his phone. He likes to just look at them at night, making edits of you and collages of his favorites. He probably even taught himself how to hack into camera systems so he could find more film of you.

From all the audio clips he’s recorded of you, he developed a scarily accurate AI voice of you that he uses to talk to him. Whether it’s making it say sweet nothings to him, or to just have one way conversation type stuff, he’s hooked to it.

Eventually, he starts to believe the voice, and forgets the audio recordings he saved of the AI isn’t actually something you said. He starts to fully believe you’re just as in love with him as he is with you and that you’re just too shy to confess to him. Donnie gets really upset if anyone tries to break him out of his delusion by reminding him it isn’t real.

Is already convinced you’re both basically dating despite neither of you ever actually talking to each other.

I mean, he saved the world. Who wouldn’t want to date him. He’s obviously the coolest boyfriend you can possibly get.

In the back of Donnie’s mind, he knows what he’s doing isn’t right, but it’s as if he falls into quicksand with his delusion. Every time he tries to remind himself that something is wrong, he sinks deeper into his idea that this is just how your relationship works. You can’t always trust what you see online, after all. The movies and TV shows just aren’t depicting it right.

When he finally does ‘confess’ his feelings for you, it’s less of a confession of love and more of an assumption you already said yes. You barely get a word in before he’s telling the entire world about your relationship with him.

He never gets too violent, but he will push you around sometimes. Anytime you poke a hole in his perfect fantasy of how your relationship is, he freaks out and starts to whine until you give in.

Would one day just bring you home. Since in his mind what he’s doing is perfectly normal, he sees nothing wrong with taking you home and keeping you there. He doesn’t like having to share space with his brothers still, but that’s okay. He can make room for you in his bed area and you can just stay there! Until his dad or the other mutants let you leave of course.

This would devastated Donnie, and would probably be his snapping point for waking up and seeing it wasn’t as perfect as he made it. But, unlucky you, he only snapped out of the ‘everyone else sees this as normal too’ bit.

Next time, he just brings you to a whole new area of the sewer to live. Just you and him, together forever. Just as it was meant to be.

Raph:

Raph would be an overprotective and a threatening kind of yandere.

Raph was always one of the first to suggest they do something and ran in head first into a problem. He was also always one of the first to dip when things started to go south. If someone tries to start something with you, he’s not afraid to remind them why people once considered him a monster.

Directs his need for a physical anger release at your friends/family instead of you. He doesn't want to hurt you, but he needs you to understand how you rejecting him is hurting him. So, he threatens your family and/or friends to get the message across. 

Oh, you don’t love him anymore? Well, guess you better start preparing those savings to pay off some medical bills.

He’s prone to violence and is very loud, but only the verbal side will ever be targeted at you. He’ll shout, cry, mock, or even belittle you if it means you won’t leave him for just one more minute. He’ll comfort you afterwards of course, but he panicked and it just spilled out. It’s your fault, really.

If you have something that makes you insecure, he might randomly bring it up to poke fun or mess with you if you’re being difficult. He tries to 

Would punch someone just for looking at you weird.

Doesn’t tolerate any flack from anyone when it comes to you. You’re his special someone, no ones getting in the way. He’d fight Superfly all over again if it meant you were safe and happy with him.

Loves to show off in front of you. If you ever go to watch one of his wrestling matches, he’s absolutely dominating the mat. And probably getting a lot of points off for illegal moves.

Loves to drag you around and make you do the stuff he wants to do. You’re his partner, you need to support him after all. He gets offended if you have other plans or just don’t want to hang out with him at any given time.

He’ll most likely try to sabotage your plans or make you feel guilty for not hanging out with him.

When it comes to kidnapping, it would definitely be harder for them to pull it off. Not only does he have his dad and brothers to worry about, but now there’s a whole plethora of other mutants living in the same sewer pipe as him. What he’d most likely do is try and find a secluded area in the sewers to keep you in.

He’d fix it up to the best of his ability and make sure it was a safe area to stay in, then he’d just take you and move you in.

He’d be baffled when you get mad at him for bringing you here. He promises to take care of you, he just thinks it’d be better for you to stay here. Where it’s safe. With him. And no one else to bother you.

He, of course, does not stay there, but always knowing where you are makes him happy. To him, it’s the thought that counts.

Leo:

Leo shows signs of being a worshiping or obsessed yandere with hints of dependence.

Like how he did with April, he latches on to you, and he latches on fast.

This man never lets you go. Glued to your hip 24/7, 365. Anything you do, you’re doing it with him by your side.

He just constantly needs to be near you at all times. You are everything to him, and he needs to prove it to you. Have chores? He’s showing up at your house to lend a hand. Need to go somewhere? He can take you there, no problem. You never get a second to breathe from how much he stays near you.

He sees no wrong in anything you do. You’re a walking, talking, embodiment of perfection! Of course he’s going to vehemently defend no matter what. If you did it, it was the right thing to do, no matter the situation.

He’s constantly talking about you to anyone who’ll listen. Leatherhead asks him to play some games? He’s talking about your favorite game the whole time and how good you are at playing it. Everything is about you. No one knows how he does it, but he can divert any conversation into a love blind rant about you.

He gets all huffy when you don’t give him as much attention as he wants. You’re his everything, so why can’t you just treat him the same? It’s not like it takes a lot of effort, you just need to pay attention to him instead of whatever else you’re doing.

Guilt trips you A LOT. He doesn’t really mean to, but he definitely plays the ‘poor me, I’m a mutant and people think I’m a monster’ card anytime you show any hesitance with anything he does.

He’s your own personal knight. If you have any trouble, whether you got robbed, are being bullied, etcetera etcetera, he’s there to help. He still loves violence like his brothers, and he would never pass up the chance to fight. Especially if it was in your honor.

Doesn’t hurt you, but can get really frustrated if you resist him. He will play his woe is me routine, but if that doesn’t work, he’ll withdraw from you completely. He’s still watching you of course. He’d never actually leave. But you don’t know that. Just like you don’t know he’s the one who made sure you’d run into trouble the next night and only had Leo to call on. You need him, just as he needs you. He’ll forgive you of course, but he’ll hold it over your head for about a week, just to make sure you won’t try again for a while.

Doesn't kidnap you. He thinks about it a lot of course. Being able to be with you every second of the day, to make sure you’re safe and happy. But he logically knows he can’t. He even tried to convince you to run away with him a couple of times, but that didn’t go over well. Instead, he spends every waking moment by your side. Pushes for sleepovers, hangouts, dates, all the things. There’s never a time when he’s not near you.

And if you do say no or try to make other plans? Well he just ‘happens’ to be in the area and shows up.

He doesn't understand how you could ever be angry or upset and anything he does. After all, it’s all for you. You should be thanking him.

[httpiastri]

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER FOUR (MONACO)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: heartbreak as usual

word count: 5.3k (like, exactly 5.3k. on the word. 😭)

author's note: it feels so wrong to say that im posting this to celebrate ollie's graduation to f1 because... this is such a sad chapter.... pain pain pain for everyone involved (especially ollie) 💔 but yay happy ollie f1 announcement day!!! hope you're all doing well & hope you enjoy <3 (also i wrote a lot of this chapter back in february? and proofreading it today nearly brought me to tears bcs of ollie-)

series masterlist

the career of a racing driver is a roller coaster for everyone involved.

if your name is max verstappen, then you've got more ups than most others. that roller coaster seems pretty fun.

but if your name is y/n harper, then your roller coaster isn't as fun these days. but if there’s ever a place to turn things around, it's monaco.

even just the track walk is enough to bring up your mood after a bad week like last. walking along the monegasque streets, almost getting hit by cars as you sign autographs and take pictures with fans... it's an experience you just can't find anywhere else.

coincidentally enough, ollie is done with the track walk just as you are, which means that the two of you can make your way back to the f2 paddock together. your boyfriend has always loved monaco – he pretty much doesn't ever shut up about the track and it's history unless you tape his mouth shut when you're in the country. that's why it's surprising that he not only brings up another subject, but also that he chooses a quite sensitive one – your father.

"he's going to be here this weekend, right?" ollie asks, stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. he seemingly doesn't quite understand just how tense things are with your dad yet. to be fair, it isn't really his fault, since you haven't told him and since he isn't a mind-reader. but still, something in your chest tightens at the way ollie brings him up so casually.

you nod. "you know how much he adores monaco," you say with a sigh, before putting on your best impression of your dad. "the most iconic track ever, the only track to ever... blah blah blah."

having your dad along for races was always a given when you were younger. he was your best helmet carrier, your number-one supporter, and the first person you went to when celebrating or complaining.

but somewhere along the years, having him around started to become more problematic and anxiety-inducing. his support turned into criticism, and it became far more common for him to tell you to "go apologize to the engineers and ask them what you should do to perform better tomorrow" rather than give you any constructive feedback of his own.

at first, it was rough; the man who had always been your pillar to lean on, your main source of support, your safe haven, was seemingly gone. you continued to perform well, though you weren't sure if that was because you wanted to make him proud or if you were terrified of making him disappointed.

"let's have dinner with him someday, then," ollie suggests as the two of you come to a stop right outside the prema garage for the weekend. "maybe sunday, if we have things to celebrate?"

"let's hope so."

pepe calls your name once, twice, thrice, before he resorts to shaking your shoulder gently. his touch, along with the sound of the spaniard's raspy laughter, makes you finally wake from your slumber. you blink up at him, eyes droopy and mind empty. "what?"

"why are you sleeping?" pepe asks, shaking his head. "quali starts in... about an hour."

you begin to slowly push yourself up from the couch you've been lying on, yawning loudly. "i was supposed to just rest my eyes," you start, rubbing your eyes with your hands. "i didn't mean to fall asleep..."

"did you not sleep well last night? were you up late again?" pepe asks as he sits down next to you, watching you stretch your arms over your head with yet another yawn.

what are you supposed to say? yes, i was up until four am because i couldn't find any peace of mind at all? i've been dreading every second of this weekend because i never know when my dad will appear from around the corner? i'm scared he's going to be so mad over my performances that he disowns me?

pepe may know a lot of what's going on with your father, but he doesn't need to know this much.

you did, in fact, meet him earlier today, right before practice – if greeting him briefly and then instantly bolting in the opposite direction counts as a "meeting" – but since then, he's been nowhere to be seen. not even around dino or ollie when you last saw the two of them.

pepe takes your silence as an answer in itself, and he lets out a hum. "well, i'm quite nervous myself," he says frankly, pulling a hand through his hair.

"you did so well here last year, though." you nudge his shoulder with yours. "you'll be great again, i'm sure of it."

"dinner with the prince on sunday? both of us?"

you nod, shooting your friend a smile. "of course." but despite how much you wish it would become a reality, there's not even the slightest trace of faith in you. the only thing you can think about is how likely it is for this round to go in the same footsteps as your recent ones.

a great attitude to bring into a race weekend.

p9.

a top ten placement, sure. second in the reverse grid, sure. but other than that, there's not much positive in it. it's a step in the right direction, but in some way, it feels like a step that's way too short.

the sprint race starts with an incident right by you on the track, which is extremely unlucky for you since you get pretty much blocked and have nowhere to go. after being passed by several cars, the safety car finally comes out, and you find yourself in p7.

of course your father's words echo in your head all the way through the safety car period. "starting p2 means a free podium," he had told you when he stopped by right before you were getting into your car. "don't mess it up."

you're so focused on that expression on his face, the way he tilted his chin up and his head slightly to the side as he spoke, and the way it felt like your heart stopped beating for a few seconds, that you don't even realize that your engineer has told you about the safety car being about to end. you don't even acknowledge the fact that the race leader has taken off, nor that the rest of the field starts pushing again before it's too late.

some blue car tries to overtake you on the outside, and with another car on your inside you have no chance of giving either of them space – and you manage to crash into them both. not only did you ruin your own race, but also two other drivers'.

and of course, one of the cars buried into the wall next to yours is a silver hitech with a big number 17 on it.

climbing out of your car, you can hear several voices calling out for all three of you from the grandstand nearby, and you consider throwing them a wave as you climb through the metal fence to get off the track. but then, you hear one voice that's more familiar – one that belongs to the last person you want to talk to right now. "are you alright?"

you almost don't look at him, but the little glance you shoot him is enough to take in every single bit of disappointment in his eyes. what are the odds that your dad was sitting in the grandstand right where you crashed?

a nod is enough of an answer you reckon, pulling your helmet off your head and beginning to walk the way towards the paddock again. "do you want me to carry that?" your dad asks, having gotten past the security guards after showing his pass, now jogging to catch up with you.

"i'm not ten anymore," you groan. "i can handle it on my own."

"i wasn't saying you can't-" he cuts himself off, placing a hand on your shoulder. "you looked really out of it out there."

you keep your gaze forwards so he won't see you rolling your eyes at his words, determined steps carrying you forward quickly as you shake his hand off. "oh, you could see through my visor? that's cool."

"what's gotten into you lately?" your dad pushes, and you flinch slightly at the harsh tone in his voice. "what's wrong with you?"

"what do you mean?"

"well, frankly, your driving had been shit recently." your eyes snap to him when he speaks, eyebrows furrowed. "it looks like you're not even trying."

you stay silent for a long while, trying to navigate your way back – and to a place where your dad hopefully won't be allowed – but you can't help but scoff. "thank's a lot."

"what? am i wrong?"

"yes, you're wrong!" you finally stop in your tracks, fully facing him by now. a hand goes up to your hair, pulling on it to relieve at least some tension. "i'm trying my best, i-"

"is there something going wrong with ollie?" your jaw drops. "i'll talk to him, i'll settle it with him."

"don't you dare!" you exclaim. "there's nothing wrong with ollie, okay?!"

"then what is wrong with you? why can't you score ten points in nine races?"

that's it – you're going to completely lose it if this goes on for even one more second. "leave me the fuck alone," you tell him, turning your head away so he won't get a chance to see the tears beginning to form in your eyes.

the worst part of it all? the fact that you agree with him. the fact that you can't even argue against it; nine points in five rounds is not a good result at all.

surprisingly enough, he doesn't follow you when you hurry away, allowing you to get to the paddock alone. the silence doesn't mean you can hold back from crying, however; it doesn't take long before your cheeks are stained with your tears, your breaths growing quicker and quicker for every step you take. navigating the paddock with blurry vision is hard, and you're basically just relying on muscle memory to take you back to the right part of the garage. just as you're rounding a corner, you bump into someone – someone whose white suit and broad, muscular shoulders are easy to recognize even through your tears.

the other last person you want to talk to right now.

"hey there," he says, a hand coming up to your shoulder to keep you steady as you stumble a little upon the impact with his chest. "are you- woah, are you crying?"

"leave me alone, paul."

he lets out a little chuckle, one he regrets in hindsight because it makes him sound like he thinks the state you're in is funny. "i can't just walk away when you're this upset, can i?" he asks, having to use all of his willpower to hold back from wiping away a few tears from your cheeks. "is it about the crash? i'm not mad at you, and i don't think victor is either-"

"i couldn't care less about the stupid crash!" you explode, a few sobs following your words. "i'm just- i can't-"

paul's eyes widen in surprise at your outburst, hand on your shoulder slipping further along so he's got his arm draped across your shoulders and it's easier for him to force you to walk with him. now it's your turn to have to hold back, wanting nothing more than to lean into his chest and just let out all of your tears. he pushes you with him into the hitech truck, looking around the lounge area to make sure no one's there before guiding you to sit on one of the sofas there. "what's going on? did something happen?"

"i'm a bad driver, that's what happened." paul slumps into the seat right next to you, eyebrows raised when he hears you speak. "i don't belong here, i don't know what i'm doing, i-"

"hey hey hey," he cuts you off with a shake of his head. "what have we said about this?"

you look down at the floor, wiping away a few tears from your cheek as you continue to sniffle in the silence that fills the area. a burning feeling spreads through your chest at his words, the familiarity of it all making your head spin. it isn't the first time you've been like this in front of him; through the almost entire year you dated, there were quite a few times when he'd have to console you after a breakdown. paul knows your issues like the back of his hand, he knows how hard it can be to convince you that you do belong. but he also knows to never give up.

"you are a great driver," he starts, hesitating for a moment before letting his hand rub your shoulder. the action makes your breath hitch in your throat, but not because it's wrong – it's because you've missed his touch, probably far more than you've admitted to yourself before now.

"even my lousy dad thinks i'm bad," you finally get out in-between sniffles, resting your face in your hands.

"and since when do you care about his opinion, huh?"

he's right. at least partially. but still, you remain hunched over, shaking your head. "i may act like it doesn't matter, but… him calling me all kinds of things…" paul allows you to gather your thoughts, his touch remaining gentle over your racing suit. "it hurt. a lot."

he hums understandingly, letting out a sigh. "when is that stupid little brain of yours going to understand that you're doing well?" his words should bring a smile to your lips – a few months ago, they would've. but now, you don't react at all. "no matter what he says, no matter what the critics say. you're a good driver."

after another few moments of silence, you drop your hands to your lap and look at him. there's a hint of curiousity in his eyes, surprised by your sudden eye contact. "why do you even care?" you question. he's been acting like a complete idiot these past few months – and after you literally cursed him out in melbourne, you haven't spoken a word to each other. and yet, he's taking time out of his day to comfort you like he would a year ago.

"come on…" he presses his lips together in a firm line, shaking his head. "no matter what happens between us, i'll always look after you."

his words, and maybe especially your emotional reaction to them, take you by surprise. despite the anger and frustration you've built up over the last few months, there's an undeniable warmth in his gaze that softens your defenses. the feeling of nostalgia and longing is so strong it's almost painful, as if he has reminded you of a connection you thought had been lost forever.

it's quite strange, considering everything that's happened. but you're not opposed to it.

"how are you feeling after the crash?" paul asks to break the silence as you reach up to dry away the last of your tears from your cheeks. "that was a big impact you had. i got away lightly in comparison."

for the first time since the crash, you stop to actually think about it and allow yourself to feel through your body. the adrenaline from the race has worn off by now, and there's a throbbing in your head that seems to just grow stronger by the second. "i think… i'm alright…"

"do you want me to go get ollie for you? the race should be done by now," he says, checking the clock on the wall in the truck. "he can take you to go see a medic."

you shake your head instantly. "please, don't. for real."

paul shoots you a strange, confused look, though he gives you a slight nod. "okay, but you have to tell him," he says, pausing a second before continuing. "i know that head of yours, you're going to combust if you keep hiding this. you can't go through it alone."

"i promise."

you don't end up going to the medical center.

you do, however, go find ollie yourself – but you don't tell him about your chat with paul. instead, you hope he doesn't take notice of the not-so-subtle signs that you've just had a complete meltdown.

it's easy to break promises to people who you don't need to stay truthful to, you realize. last year, you wouldn't even think about breaking a promise to paul – but an ex boyfriend is much easier to lie to.

your current boyfriend wraps his arms around you the second you step close enough. his lips press to the side of your head, his arms giving you another squeeze before pulling away.

ollie has gotten used to your red eyes.

he's gotten used to the sight of your tearstained cheeks, the slight pout on your lips, the heaviness in your sighs.

he's gotten used to the sinking feeling in his stomach, the pain in his chest, the guilt.

but he's also gotten used to not asking, because he knows you won't tell.

when you wake up on feature race day, something is different. it's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders after talking to paul; like the air is suddenly much easier to breathe, and the whole world seems a little lighter. you're much more excited for the feature race of the day than any race so far this season.

in today's race, it's ollie's time to crash out. it isn't his fault, though; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got squeezed up against the wall by a trident car. there was nothing he could do.

as soon as he's deemed free of injuries, he makes his way back to the prema garage, joining the team in watching the rest of the race. it's a good one for you; choosing to go with the opposite strategy has really worked out for you so far, with you and zak o'sullivan being the only two drivers in the top who haven't pitted yet.

ollie follows your car intently on the screen in the garage, secretly hoping for a safety car to come out and help you out with your strategy as it's nearing the last few laps. he almost doesn't pull out of his trance even when a hand lands on his shoulder. "she's doing great," dino says from behind him, the brit nodding along to his words. "especially considering... well, she must've told you about yesterday, so i won't repeat it to you."

yesterday?

ollie looks dumbfounded for a moment before he composes himself, though he has no idea what the swede is talking about. "of course."

dino lets out a chuckle, patting his friend's shoulder. "paul said she was a complete mess when he found her," he continues, not realizing he's giving ollie more clues to help figure out what in the world he's talking about. "her anxiety was all over the place, apparently. but she's recovering, she's strong. she won't let this affect her."

ollie hums agreeingly at his words, eyes still glued to the tv in front of him. "certainly," he finally gets out. "she'll get through it with ease."

and so you did – at least for this particular race.

the virtual safety car was incredibly lucky, but that's racing sometimes. with both you and zak changing your tyres in the last lap, you both managed to end up ahead of the rest of the field, and secure a podium each.

unlike in jeddah, seeing paul's car pull up right next to yours on parc ferme isn't all that bad. after yesterday's heart-to-heart with him, you feel like at least part of this podium is thanks to him. if it weren't for his encouragement, you likely would've stuck it in the wall again.

you don't ignore him this time. you don't scoff at his words, you don't feel frustrated at his mere presence. this time, you give him a tight hug when he comes over to congratulate you, arms around his shoulders forcing him close.

"thank you," you can't help but whisper, and paul is grinning from ear to ear when he pulls away from the hug.

"don't," he answers with a quick shake of his head. "you could always pull this off. you just needed a little reminder."

and not only do your shoulders and mind feel a bit lighter as you step onto that monaco podium, but most importantly, your heart.

"i'm exhausted," you huff as you shrug your bag off your shoulders, leaving it by the door as ollie, too, makes his way into the hotel room. "thank god this weekend is finally over."

you dive onto his already-made bed, landing face-down between the pillows and blankets. the bed is huge, probably over two meters in width, and unbelievably soft. it's the first time you feel like you can truly relax since you got to monaco, and every single cell in your body thanks you for allowing them to rest a little.

"and i don't even have any sim sessions scheduled in over a week. i'm the luckiest person ever." ollie lets out a chuckle at this, his own bag crashing to the floor with a thud before his feet carry him deeper inside the room.

you turn your head and watch as he picks out a water bottle from the mini fridge, but he doesn't drink from it. instead, he makes his way to the bed, choosing to just stand next to it at first. you can't really read his expression, so you speak up – but he beats you to it. "ollie-"

"can we talk?"

you press your hands into the mattress, sitting up properly. "of course," you say, a look of unknowing dejection spreading across your features. "what's wrong?"

"that's... what i wanted to ask you, actually." ollie finally sits down on the bed, but on the opposite side of it, far from you. "what's going on? what happened yesterday?"

"oh, well..." you pause for a second, eyebrows rising as you try to find an explanation. "i just had a bad day, i didn't realize that the safety car-"

"i don't mean the race, i mean what happened after the race." his eyes are piercing into yours, not missing even the slightest movement of your face now. you've got his full attention. "with paul."

your breath hitches in your throat and you instantly look away. your voice is as low as a whisper when you speak again. "i can't believe he told you..."

"he didn't. it was someone else, but that's beside the point." you don't know if you should feel relieved that paul didn't tell ollie, or furious that he told someone else who then told ollie, but you don't have any time to think before his voice infiltrates your thoughts again. "i heard you were... i'm not going to use the same word he did, but i heard you were really upset. something about anxiety, or..."

he hopes you'll pick up where he trailed off, and despite how you're really not in the mood for this conversation right now, it feels unavoidable. "i guess... yesterday's race was really rough on me. and my racing has felt really bad recently, the anxiety has been through the roof, and..." your eyes land on your hands, watching as your fingers tremble slightly in your lap. "i don't know. something about yesterday just triggered it all again."

out of the corner of your eye, you can see ollie nodding understandingly. "how long have you been feeling like this?"

"since always, basically." a single teardrop rolls down your cheek before you even notice that you've started tearing up. you hurry to wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. "my mom likes to tell this story about how i used to cry if i performed poorly when i was jumping rope in kindergarten. or about how one time, i came home sobbing over the fact that i thought i was getting kicked out of kindergarten because my drawings weren't as good as the other kids'." the old stories bring a soft smile to your lips, one that soon disappears when you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut. "it's not usually this bad, but…"

you sigh.

"it's like... imposter syndrome. i'm one of the very few women in motorsports, and i can't help but think that i'm just here because the fia wants to make the sport more equal. or because my sponsors think it's funny to have a woman among the men. or if i'm just here as eye candy. i don't deserve this, i don't have enough talent."

your little rant makes him speechless – both because he didn't expect it at all, and because to him, you're so wrong.

"you're here because you do deserve it and because you consistently perform good results, unlike most other drivers. that has nothing to do with your gender." ollie pauses for a second. "if you didn't have enough talent, you wouldn't be performing this well in a series this hard."

you can't hold back the little smile that slips onto your lips. "this is all very sweet, and i really appreciate it. but it's not that easy for me to just accept what you're saying."

yet again, he nods. "i understand." his voice is so calm, so gentle, so patient. it makes your heart soften. "i'll make sure to remind you of it more often, so that maybe it sticks."

"thank you, ollie."

a long silence follows, and you take the time to brush away a few more tears that have left your eyes. you don't know what to say or how to follow up on this heavy subject, but you don't have to think much more.

"why did you go to paul instead of me?"

your eyes dart to him at the sudden question. he's sounded so composed and calm, but he actually looks quite... nervous? his fingers are fiddling with the lid of the water bottle in his hands, and his entire upper body looks like it's trembling slightly as he breathes. "i didn't," you tell him simply. it's not a lie, per se. "he just happened to walk in on me crying."

"but why did you tell him?" ollie questions, looking up at you from the bottle. "i thought you two weren't even talking these days? ever since that fight you had?"

he is right. you don't even know why you confided in him yourself – it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. you didn't even try to deny his help; you welcomed it (and him) with open arms.

"we talked about my struggles last year," you finally say, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. "so he knew already. and… i don't know, i guess it felt nice to talk to someone who really knows me."

"but i want to know you." he takes a deep breath before continuing. "i want to know more than your birthday and your favorite color. i want to know it all; what makes you feel good, what makes you anxious, what keeps you going, what slows you down..."

the physical distance between you two may only be a mere two meters, but you feel much more separated than that. you totally understand where he's coming from – he might be exaggerating a little, but your conversations with him are never really deep. though not sure whether it's because you just don't trust him or because you just have a hard time opening up, you can understand the despair he must be feeling.

when ollie notices that you aren't too keen on saying anything, he keeps going. "i want you to trust me. i want to be the person you tell these things to." he scoots closer to you on the bed, one of his hands landing on top of your knee. "i really want to make this work between us. my feelings for you are so strong, just..."

the pain in his eyes is so intense it sends a shiver down your spine, his gaze cutting through you like a knife. your own eyes begin to well up again, but you can't look away now.

"i really want you to give this, give me, a chance."

you've never seen him like this before. hopeless, desperate, practically begging. and in an instant, the guilt comes creeping back into you.

you're the one who's making him feel like this; it's all your fault. and how cruel wouldn't it be to not at least give him an honest chance?

"of course." your voice is weak and shaky, but you nod. "i want that, too. really."

ollie drops his water bottle to the floor before opening his arms wide for you. "come here."

it's easy to climb into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he holds you close. it's easy to lean into him, to inhale his sweet scent, and it's so easy to relax.

you wish it was as easy to open up to him. oh, how badly you wish it was as easy as a-b-c or do-re-mi. you really want to let him in; you, too, want this to work.

the silence that follows is a comfortable one. the air feels thick with unspoken emotions, a heaviness of the previous conversation still lingering, but there's an unspoken understanding between you and ollie. the previously well-known weight of the world on your shoulders seems to lift, if only momentarily; his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back is like a silent reassurance that he's there, he's present, and he's willing to wait for you to open up in your own time.

after what feels like an eternity, ollie breaks the silence. "let's do something. let's go on a vacation together."

you lean back slightly, just enough to look at his face but stay in his hold. "…what?"

your reaction isn't exactly what he had hoped for, but he goes on. "i'm going back to italy this week, you should come with me." he reaches up with a hand to your face, thumb softly massaging away the frown you hadn't even noticed had formed. "we'll travel around, go see the national parks, hike in the mountains... swim in the sea, eat at good italian restaurants..."

your features soften at his suggestions; it all does sound very sweet. still, you can't hold back from asking, "but why?"

"we have almost a month until the next race weekend, and you said that you don't have any sims this week. this could help take your mind off racing, and..." a sheepish smile appears on his face. "maybe it could make us get a little closer."

uncertainties and conflicting thoughts continue to cloud your heart, making the decision harder than it should be. on one hand, accepting the offer could offer a much-needed reprieve from all the pressures of the racing world. on the other hand, your unresolved feelings for paul still hold you back. spending a romantic holiday with ollie sounds like a dream, just as much as the mere thought of revealing yourself to him makes you nauseous from the fear.

but you want to be brave. and maybe to let go of paul, you need to just forget about your worries and dive head-first into ollie.

"it sounds perfect. let's do it."

yourusername just posted!

yourusername we're back baby!! leaving monaco with some good points. 🔜 barcelona and the team's home race, let's go 😁

show all 78 comments

user finally back on the podium! ❤️💙

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user great drive today !!!

→ user it was just luck 😭 without the vsc she would've never gotten that podium

→ user okay and??

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

olliebearman what's up with the hair dinobeganovic_

→ yourusername it's called fashion

→ dinobeganovic_ it's called waking up at 5 for a feature race

→ user you're still gorgeous dino 😚

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam 💪💙❤️

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

sebasmontoya58 pepe don't punch the girl, she did nothing wrong

→ yourusername i did nothing wrong!!!

→ pepemartiofficial tell him what you did

→ yourusername never

→ pepemartiofficial sebas check your whatsapp

→ yourusername YOU WOULDNT

→ pepemartiofficial i totally would

[danikamariewrites]

Office Naps

Rhysand x Reader

A/n: My first fic! YAY! I’m open to constructive criticism (I’m very sensitive plz be nice lol) and my request are open so feel free to leave one if you like this or just wanna chat. Enjoy!

Warnings: fluff (I don’t think I can write sad things yet lmao)

Being the mate of a High Lord takes a lot of patience. Especially when the Court of Dreams and Nightmares started to overlap. Keeping Kier and his company satisfied with their brief visits to Velaris has meant Rhysand meeting with the governors more and more each week. Now that they have his extra attention the governors are adding more requests and bringing new problems to each meeting.

You’ve been feeling a little neglected, but you would never tell Rhys. He’d feel guilty and carry that guilt around with him to punish himself. That’s the last thing you want.

To make up for lost time you decided instead of mopping around all day having lunch with Rhys in his office would be better. Walking down the hallway of the townhouse with two plates in your hands and a book under your arm you stop in front of Rhys’ office door. After knocking you hear a muffled come in and open the door to the sight of your mate looking disheveled. His usually perfect black hair is sticking up and pushed back at the time, his shirt is creased in places, and papers are strewn across his desk.

As you approach he finally looks up, a smile gracing his perfect features, “Hello darling.” He purrs. You smile blushing, putting the plate down on his desk trying to avoid the important documents that cover the surface. “I thought I could have a late lunch with you in here today,” you say sweetly. He grasps your empty hand bringing it to his lips and planting a kiss on your knuckles. “That sounds wonderful darling.” You move to sit in the chair on the other side of his desk but before you can Rhys’ arms are sliding around your waist pulling you into his lap.

You giggle as he nuzzles your neck leaving a few kisses before pulling back. “I’m sorry we haven’t been spending time together lately.” He says, guilt laces his features as he looks up at you with those beautiful violet eyes. “It’s alright my love. There’s a lot going on, but know that I’m here for you, always.” You say softly. Rhys cups your face with his large hand stroking your cheek. “After we eat will you stay and just sit with me?” He asks hopeful that you won’t leave him alone with the mess he’s drowning in. Just sitting with Rhys makes him feel like some of the weight has been lifted off his shoulders “Of course my love.”

…

After your quick lunch and an impromptu make out session that Rhys cut off before it could go any further to your dissapointment, you’re sprawled out on his office couch reading. You love this couch, it’s probably your favorite in the whole house. Its just so godsdamed comfy you could stay there forever.

Hours pass by and as you finish your book you find yourself drifting in and out of sleep. The sounds of Rhys’ scrawling and the crackling of the fire lulling you to sleep. Suddenly you feel arms under you lifting you up. Rhys leaves his office with you in his arms heading towards your bedroom.

You stir, cracking your eyes open a bit mumbling Rhys’ name. “I’m sorry darling,” he coos worry clear in his voice, “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just thought we could turn in early.”

“S’alright.” You say softly. “Can we cuddle?” Rhys chuckles as he says, “Of course we can my darling.” “All night?” You yawn snuggling into his chest. “Yes darling, all night I promise.”

[star--anon]

I'm bored, let's talk Reactions to a Spider

[modern setting, obviously, because.. Glade!Gladers are surrounded by spiders]

Thomas: he'd panic and start flailing around, literally falling out of his chair to get away. Inevitably, his wild movements causes the spider to land on his face, and he slaps himself trying to get it off

Newt: stays incredibly still out of panic, but is screaming. he's rooted to his seat in fear, but his mouth is just AHHHHHHH. It climbs onto his arm and he passes out

Minho: shrieks loudly when he sees it and then bolts out of the room so fast he's invisible. One moment he's there, one moment he's not. That spider is future him's problem now (it's still there when he comes back)

Alby: Stares at it. Fight or flight instinct malfunctions: call him Elsa because he is frozen. Can do literally nothing, just stares at it. The spider eventually crawls out of sight and he slowly gets up and walks out of the house

Teresa: Is scarily normal about it? Calmly removes the spider from the table and flicks it to the ground. Continues talking like nothing happened.

Frypan: breaks half the room by trying to kill the spider with a wok. Accidentally bashes Teresa in the face when she tries to come help

Gally: Does this whole 12-step waltz with the spider playing a game of Cat and Mouse. The spider is running around at 800miles per hour, and Gally is doing parkour over his furniture trying to catch it

Brenda: Lights a matchstick, sets her entire house on fire, and walks away. She doesn't live there anymore.

[thefixations-ofmine]

Pairing: Evan Buckley x Tommy Kinard AU (911)

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings: age gap, blowjob (m receiving), rimming, pet names

Summary: Former high school football star Evan Buckley navigates his new adult life. A broken down car takes him to the nearest body shop, where a very handsome 30-something mechanic catches his eye - and he's good with his hands too!

A/N: Yay, a new fic! This has been sitting in my head for a while and I finally put it down into words after seeing this manip photo of Oliver with longer hair. Sadly, I put aside some things I had already started, but I'm happy to get more work out there! Constructive criticism is welcome. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist | Drabbles Masterlist

“Helping number 36!” A young lady announces over the intercom. A shared gasp fills the room at the loud intrusion, and everyone has a look at their ticket. Evan sighs finally! He walks into the service area and heads to where an assistant is waiting to get his ticket.

“36?” A short man in glasses questions.

“That’s me! I’m Evan,” he answers with a handshake.

“Great, Evan. What brings you in today?”

He goes on for a solid fifteen minutes about all the troubles with his car. From the screeching breaks to the clicking steering and so on. His folks couldn’t afford a new car for when he got his license, and with their money and his combined, a deadbeat ‘64 Buick Skylark was all he could get - while still looking badass. It got him from point A to point B, albeit all the times he had to stop to nudge something back in place or to make sure the oil level was still right. He was saving to get himself a car that was at least of the decade, but it was proving longer than initially planned with all the fixing and maintenance on this one.

“Well, we have a really great old school mechanic, and an open schedule, so we can actually get started today if you’d like!” The assistant states, and proceeds to give him a rundown of the costs. Evan nods and runs back to his car to back it into a garage spot.

“Little further!” He hears a voice call from behind the trunk, unable to see the face of the man in the mirror. “Alright!” He adds waving his hands, and Evan breaks abruptly. He gets out of the car and starts rambling about what needs to be fixed, until a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“We’ve got it, kid.” The deep voice says again, and Evan turns this time, getting a first look at his face. And what a face! He’s surprised at first that he has to look up at him (even for just a few inches), and he rapidly gets lost in his striking blue eyes. “We’ll take care of it like it’s our own,” the mystery man says, bringing Evan back to reality.

“Um, thanks. Yeah, that would be, um, great!” He’s met with a reassuring smile, crinkly nose and all. He smiles back, trying to act as cool.

“I see you play,” Tommy (Evan remembered he could read for a second and saw his name tag) tries to start a conversation, pointing at the high school logo on his t-shirt. He nods. Tommy laughs. “I also used to a few years back. Same high school. Didn’t stick though, I was good with my hands but for different reasons.” If the blush on Evan’s cheeks wasn’t already apparent, that last statement accompanied by a wink surely painted his face a lovely crimson shade. If anything, it keeps Evan from telling him he actually graduated last year, but that’s besides the point.

He lets his eyes wander on the man’s body as he walks around to the hood; he guesses he’s around thirty. His thick veiny hands run along the metal, and thicker, veinier arms struggle to stay contained in the white t-shirt, proving he did in fact play sports in his youth. He likes what he sees, and doesn't know how to act about it. There was one thing a small town high school couldn’t provide you with; a well diverse sex-ed class. Not that nobody talked about it, but it was more often in a bad light than in a supportive kind of chit-chat in the back of a locker room. He had only been exposed to “educative” material through dodgy websites - though he owed his quarter-back wrist strength to that!

Today though, Evan would be happy to learn and explore.

“I’m sorry, do you guys have any water?” He manages to blurt out, running a finger into the neck of his shirt and his other hand up the side of his jeans.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to use the hose, kid.” Tommy points him to the side of the building a few feet away. Evan rushes to it, and almost drowns from the big gulps he’s inhaling, and doesn’t notice Tommy’s watching. Doesn’t see how he licks his lips at the sight of his own mouth pursed, and the sway of his Adam’s apple as he swallows vigorously. How Tommy’s eyes run down his arched back as he’s holding himself up with a hand on his knee. When he’s done drinking, some stray drops run down his chin and Tommy wants to lap at them. He clears his throat and goes back to examining the engine when their eyes meet.

A couple hours has brought the awkward moment to a well established conversation between the two as they exchange about cars and Fantasy Football predictions - both of them stealing looks every once in a while, silently eating the other up. When Evan runs his hand on his stomach as it growls, Tommy takes the opportunity to ask:

“Do you wanna grab a bite?”

“Huh?” Evan asks, his brain scrambled from the heat and the blood filling his semi.

“I think I’ll need at least another day before I’m done, and the last piece I took out will keep you from driving home,” he begins. “I thought maybe we could grab a bite and I can drive you back?” There’s another sensation added to the hunger in Evan’s stomach, one he had felt a long time ago when an exchange student from England had arrived at their school. He’d gotten Evan in a corner one day and kissed his lips, and Evan let him for several seconds before he pushed him away, embarrassed - confused. He told him he wasn’t mad, but that this didn’t have to happen again or be made known to others. He still hates himself after all those years for not apologizing before the guy went back home.

“I. Yeah, yeah. That would be great.” He finds the strength to answer.

“Awesome. Let me get out of these overalls and I’ll be right there.”

Evan guides Tommy down the streets of his neighbourhood after leaving the diner, where he had the best burgers of his life. Didn’t I tell ya, kid? He remembers Tommy had said when Evan moaned at the taste of the greasy patty. He turned red right there again, but when his eyes landed on Tommy’s, he realized they were both bothered and hot by the situation. If he was reading it right…

Kid. Evan can’t shake the hold that pet name has on him, a weird mix of adoration and degradation. He wasn’t a kid! He was 19! But then again, in contrast to the well-established, rugged man sitting next to him, as he watches his fingers drum absentmindedly to a Kiss song on the steering wheel, Evan can understand why he uses that word. He hopes it isn’t derogatory, but is willing to prove Tommy wrong. 

When they get to Evan’s house, Tommy drives his car into the empty driveway and turns the engine off with a content sigh. “I guess that’s my stop,” Evan jokes and clumsily goes to tap the center console, unaware that Tommy had leaned his arm onto it, the contact of his hand hitting the strong skin sends a shiver down his spine. Like a deer in headlights, he stays like this, not budging a finger until he hears Tommy chuckle deeply.

“You okay there, buddy?” That was a new one, Evan notes, and he’s sure now that he read the situation wrong because Tommy must see him as a bro, as his little brother’s friend who’s always squatting in the basement. But the second later, Evan is shoved into a new reality when he feels Tommy’s left hand come to cradle his chin to turn his head his way. He’s unable to tell if he’s still breathing, but that can be done manually so he should survive even in the confined space around them. There’s a tentative look in Tommy’s expression, a light smirk as his eyes volley in a triangle between Evan’s lips, his eyes, and the few bunches of curls that pop out of his cap. When the hand on his arm tightens instinctively, Tommy takes the plunge and crashes their lips together.

It’s hungry and unfiltered, and what Buck gives in clumsiness Tommy can redirect and show him he’s really into this. As if his grunts or the hand creeping to the back of Evan’s neck weren’t enough proof that Tommy wasn’t just trying to be nice. That’s when Evan realizes he’s kissing back, and grunting too, and he’s not going to have to feel sorry for the near future because of his stupid brain. He unfastens his seatbelt to try and kneel onto the seat until Tommy laughs into his mouth, now open from having been explored by a hungry tongue.

“Evan,” he begins, “are you sure about this?” There’s a frown on Evan’s face and he wonders what he did wrong, until Tommy corrects: “I mean, is this okay here in the car? Won’t anybody just walk by?” And then Evan smiles.

“My parents are out of town for the week, if you would, um. If you’d like, we can go inside.” It’s like the puffiness of his lips is keeping him from talking properly, but Tommy’s eager to get out of the car and follows Evan to the door, hooking one of his fingers into a loop at the back of his jeans, that way he can pull Evan against him as he shuts the door. They makeout in the entryway for several minutes, hands rushing to touch the other’s skin.

“Sit on the couch,” Tommy says firmly. Evan’s stomach flips again. He obliges, and sits awkwardly on one side of the couch, leaving room for Tommy, completely oblivious to his intentions. Until Tommy grabs both sides of Evan’s ass and manhandles him onto the center, and finds a comfortable spot between his legs on his knees, then Evan understands where this is going and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t send a sweat down his back.

“I, um,” he struggles. “This is um... Has never happened before.” He’s already a panting, sweaty mess even though he’d been in this position before - granted the subjects on the floor were much more petite, delicate and feminine. This was uncharted territory he definitely wanted to wander into, but he felt like he forgot his flashlight and was walking barefoot in gravel through the expedition.

“It’s alright, kid. I just want to take care of you for tonight if you’ll let me, no expectations.” It reassures him already, and he nods in approbation. “You stop me whenever, tap my shoulder and I’ll be gone.” He chuckles along with Tommy, and bites his bottom lip when he’s already working on his fly. He makes quick work of it; good with his hands, Evan thinks back.

And boy does he prove it fast. Evan’s not sure he even got to take three breaths in before Tommy was running his thumb along the bottom of his head, applying a faint pressure that had his blood pumping just right, filling his length the rest of the way, causing him to hiss sharply through his teeth. There seems to be a surprised excitement in Tommy’s expression, and he’s not sure if it’s at his size or the way he’s pathetically putty in his hands already, but he’d let that live in the back of his mind forever.

“Breathe, baby boy,” Tommy encourages as he pumps him now. It’s not the usual technique he’d use on himself, but Tommy found that one to be a safe bet most of the time. He feels Evan relax under him, his legs falling a little further apart and Tommy takes advantage to creep into the new space. His arms are holding Evan’s hips down, his left hand wanders under his t-shirt onto the tight, soft stomach of the sweet boy before him. He’s in pain, straining the zipper of his jeans and he curses himself for wanting to look nice rather than throw on some sweats. But it’s not about him. He hasn’t had dick in his mouth for way too long now, and when that buff twink walked into the garage, he knew there was something to play with in those hugging blue jeans.

“That’s it,” he praises, kissing the tip and sucking the bead of precum that had threatened to glide down. “You taste so good.”

“Than- Thank you sir,” Evan moans from deep in his chest. Tommy’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he sucks in just the tip, then maybe an inch or two, then three, until Evan is a shaking mess under his grip. He sucks his cheeks in on his way up, trying to wet him as much as possible, before connecting their gaze and sinking down fully in a single movement, his nose poking the taunt pubic flesh. Tommy could almost come in his pants at the sight of Evan’s reaction. He can only imagine nobody had gotten that monster down fully without struggling before, and Tommy secretly thanks his first busy years out of the closet for the practice. He pops off after a few seconds.

“Is that okay?” He’s teasing, of course. The wet sounds of his hand pumping with purpose already answer his question.

“Is that… Are you, are you fucking kidding?” He throws his head back with a punched laugh, sending his cap to fall onto his lap. Tommy grabs it and puts it on backwards, and Evan has to shut his eyes or he’ll embarrass himself in the next seconds. The look makes Tommy pass for one of his team mates, and there’s a jolt in his stomach at the idea of fooling around with him in the lockers in high school. Though the age difference dynamic is still strongly present; he can confirm from the tricks Tommy is pulling on him. “It’s, it’s so good Tommy.” He pulls out his name in a high pitched moan. Tommy knows he doesn’t have that many pulls left before he’s tipping him over the edge.

He pulls the coffee table behind him a little closer, until his body is slightly nudged underneath it, and he gently lifts Evan’s feet so they rest on it, spreading him just how he intends. He doesn’t waste his time plunging in, dragging his nose along the crease of Evan’s thigh, then the other, pushing into his balls in the passing. His hands have found a safe place just under his knees, so his dick can get a break as he explores him, smells him. He digs a little lower, and gives a trial lick to Evan’s taint, reading his immediate moan as a sign to keep going until he’s fully making out with his asshole moments later. Tommy groans into him when he feels the curious drag of the boy’s fingers into his hair,  the cap long discarded, asking him to stay right there just a tad longer until he’s a writhing mess and Tommy knows he’s gotta take action. Evan’s legs are burning, his stomach feels stiff and he’s not sure whether the pressure in his head is from an upcoming aneurysm or simply that he’s never had his soul sucked out of his body this expertly.

Evan doesn’t even realize Tommy’s lips are back around his dick until he teases his teeth along the top of his tip, soothing it immediately with a pass of his tongue, ellissiting the loudest, most embarrassing sound he’s ever let out in his - numerous - sexual experiences. His fingers are going numb into the fabric of the couch, his nails threatening to strip off. But he’s not close to putting a stop to whatever Tommy had going on; he hasn’t peeped down in a few minutes, scared that the sight of Tommy looking back at him would have him spill way too quickly. He’s biting his tongue now, because he’s just as close and doesn’t know how to let Tommy know.

There’s no actual moment to think because the next second, Tommy’s nose is up against his pubes and he swallows around him once, and twice. And maybe a third time for good measure. And Evan has to let him know he’s about to coat the back of his throat before he’s making a fool of himself, but Tommy’s deadly grip onto his hips is acting on his ability to enunciate anything.

“To-” He’s at least going to try. “Tommy,” he adds. He brings a hand to venture into his curls again, tugging a little hoping he catches the clue. But Tommy is urging on and has his mind set on the goal. He looks up, winks at Evan and takes one last breath before sinking back down fully, swishing his tongue on the bottom of Evan’s dick and managing to bring it out just enough to give his balls some attention.

Evan’s ears start ringing, he’s seeing white. Am I fucking dying? Then Tommy pulls back and tugs on him a few times until the string snaps and he’s emptying himself into the cup Tommy formed with his tongue, moaning and screaming and gasping for air and he’s panicking at the never ending ropes. He’d come again if he had any energy left when Tommy retrieves his tongue and swallows his load with a deep groan of satisfaction.

“I knew you’d be fucking sweet,” he states. Tommy runs his hands along Evan’s thighs, soothing the downfall of such a high.  He kisses along the muscles of his stomach and up to his neck, where he lays a long, open-mouth kiss to the sweet spot behind his ear. “Was that okay?” He’s genuinely asking.

“You’ve gotta stop doubting yourself, sir.” Evan puffs out a laugh. “This, um - This was the best fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.” He leans back into the couch and runs a hand into his hair, still unsure if the light from earlier wasn’t the end of the tunnel. But the warmth Tommy radiates around his body proves he’s still very alive..

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time, baby,” Tommy answers, daring a quick peck to his lips. He gets up and extends his hands to help Evan up also, making the poor boy realize the big problem he’s created;

“Do you, um. Should I-” He looks down.

“Oh, kitten, no. Don’t worry about me, okay?” Tommy deflects his intentions, hoping to buy himself a separate alone time with the pretty boy. “Plus, I’ll see you tomorrow for your appointment, huh?” He winks. Evan makes a mental note to be refreshed and energized for the day, already planning his undeniable turn for the deed. There’s a light stress in his chest at the thought of having his first experience as a giver with a man be so soon. But he’s on fire standing in front of the most handsome man he’s ever seen, who’s more than likely going to ravish him as soon as he lifts a finger, so he’s not going to fuck this chance up.

“I’ll be there on time, sir.” He nods, walking with Tommy to the front door. He owes him at least a decent goodnight.

“Bring that cute smile of yours.” Tommy has Evan blushing effortlessly, but he’s feeling a little bold. Before Tommy’s hand can turn the handle, he’s got him plastered to the door, and rushes to kiss him silly, moaning and toying with his tongue until they’re both breathless again - and as a preview, lets his hand cup at the slowly dying erection in Tommy’s jeans, earning a playful bite to his bottom lip.

“I’ll bring more than that.”

[gyuarchival]

in a better moment, at a better timing. | choi yeonjun, oneshot.

sypnosis: ex!yeonjun is trying to win you back, after a few months of breaking up. He never stops trying, until the last and final moment just as he was about to give up.

word count: 2k words.

genre: angst, happy ending, slice of life, student life.

warnings: constant mentions of smoking, arguing, fighting.

A/N: yay my first ever post! this isn't a really good oneshot for a first impression, but i had an idea that i just wanted to get it over and done with. I will be posting alot more as I have more works on the way <3 im open to constructive criticism though, just send me a message :)

“Just, enough, Choi Yeonjun. How far do you want to go? Huh? How many times do you want to do this?” you aggressively shook off his hand from your wrist that was gripping hard enough to leave red marks. 

“But baby please, I told you I am at fault, that argument from months ago shouldn't have happened if I didn’t get so upset. I know I was shitty but please, let me make things right, yeah?” 

He just had to bring this up as you accidentally bumped into him on campus before getting into class. Knowing he would not just give up, you tugged him to the back of your building, where most of the students go to smoke. Lucky for you, no one was there at that moment. 

You sighed at the sight of your ex-boyfriend looking down at you with genuine eyes, rubbing his palms together in guilt like it was a Sunday morning during church service. To ease the pain you were feeling in your temples, you took out a cigarette stick, lighting it up and taking a deep inhale, feeling the burn hitting the back of your throat. You leaned on the wall, head tilting as you exhale. 

Yeonjun looked at you with mouth agape and eyes widening. 

“Since... when do you smoke babe...?” 

“Since you broke up with me. I’m not your ‘babe’ anymore, stop calling me that.”

“I thought you hated smokers? That's why I stopped smoking in front of you.” 

“And I thought you hated my guts? Why come back for the fifth time now?” 

 He grew silent. 

“...I don’t. I have never hated you?” 

Your giggle turned into a full on laughter. 

“Really? Choi Yeonjun, you’re fucking funny. Didn’t know you took comedy classes after we broke up.” 

He took a few steps closer to you, inching closer to your face. His cologne was overpowering the cigarette smell, but all of your senses stopped working once he locked eyes with you. You seriously hoped his shadow and the gloomy sky were helping to cover your face that was getting red. 

“I’m serious, yn.” 

He took the cigarette resting on your lips in between his own index and middle fingers, and took a hit. He leaned on the wall next to you, looking up at the sky, wondering if it was going to rain. 

You couldn’t even ask him back for your stick because you were still stupidly flustered with the close proximity with your ex. Admittedly, you do still love him; but, you can’t blame yourself because you didn’t ask for the breakup, you just accepted it and (tried to) move on.

You placed a new stick in between your lips. He saw your movement, and before you could take out your lighter, he straightened his posture in front of you and held your shoulders in place. He got closer again, eyes focusing on the sticks in between the two of you, igniting your cigarette with his. For that brief moment, you stared into his eyes again. Fuck. There you go, all smothered for him again. This was the exact reason you two could last so long, close to 2 years long; authentic, real romance most relationships could not achieve for very long. 

He snickered at your reaction, which got him a smack on his shoulder that made him retract a few steps back in return. 

“Fuck was that Yeonjun.” 

“Finally you dropped my last name,” he mentioned, as he hates when close friends, especially his own partner, calls him by his full name, as it is too ‘formal’, and not friendly at all. 

You decided to sit down on the ground instead, and he followed suit. 

“Whatever, Choi Yeonjun.” 

“Hey.. thought you dropped it,” he pouted and tried acting cute. 

You didn’t give a response but an inhale of your stick which you rather much focus on. A few brief seconds of silence, he spoke again. 

“Remember during freshman year, we would text each other to sneak out and smoke during class?” 

That sentence itself made you reminisce about those old times, and elicited a chuckle as you stared at the ground. 

“Then you got caught by the class rep?” 

“Yeah then I got caught! I took a bullet for us, baby."

He chuckled. There it was, your favourite smile appearing again. God, you miss it so damn much.

He was right, he has actually taken multiple bullets for your relationship, like he said; getting caught leaving class for reasons that your professor wouldn’t approve because he thinks of his students as if they were still young and naive even though everyone is well of age (seriously, who appoints a class rep in universities these days?). He even skipped his dance club meetings and trainings  just to come down to see you, or accompany you while you wait for your next class to start, no matter if it was just 30 minutes. 

However, at the end of the second semester, the two of you started to become extremely busy. One preparing for a dance competition and one practicing business presentations respectively. Ultimately, an argument just had to rise and break the relationship; over the fact that you two lacked communication and did not trust each other to be in the hands of another in replacement. Could you blame Beomgyu, Yeonjun’s dance partner for always spending time together? Or was it okay for him to point the blame on Soobin, your senior best friend who has been helping big time in preparing for your presentations?

But in truth, he was so agitated and pressured by his competition that he decided to blow smoke on you, blaming you for spending too much time with Soobin and that he was jealous. You were stressed too, and took things too emotionally. It was a typical relationship issue you thought you could talk things through for, but he did not have the same idea. Alas, it was the beginning of your downfall. 

A few weeks after the breakup, he came back, haunting you and your friends like a spirit with unfinished business, begging to be brought back in once more and that he was at fault. The first and second time he begged you, you couldn’t even look into his eyes because you were so disappointed in him and yourself that you just walked away without responding. The third and fourth time he tried approaching you, he brought you letters and flowers that were placed on the usual spot you always sit in the lecture theatre for general studies class, which was once next to your beloved boyfriend (but now, Soobin takes that spot). He stopped doing so after seeing his flowers in the bin right outside the class. 

Those times made you think, he really still loves you, and in truth, you still love him too, no matter how many times you tried denying it, by going to clubs with friends almost every week, and them telling you he isn’t worth it. You couldn't look him in the eye because you were scared of accepting this bittersweet truth. You threw the flowers because you didn't want your mother to be asking if Yeonjun gave you those and then ask a string of questions relating to your relationship and the boy, which makes her sound like she was more curious about your relationship with him than her own daughter’s wellbeing. All in all, you still hope he tries again, but with a better approach and at a better timing. 

The fifth and last time. It was unexpected and accidental. The both of you didn’t watch where you were walking towards, and bumped shoulders hard enough to receive pain from it. After realising it was you who he bumped into, he told his friends to go without him, and you said the same to your own group. The conversation began, and from there it travelled back to the present. 

 is this perhaps the better approach at a better timing? 

Your cigarette stick was slowly becoming shorter, so was his. Silence that was so uncomfortable fell in between the two of you.

“...I see you’re still wearing my hoodie. Does it still smell like me?” 

Ah, right. You forgot about what you were wearing till he mentioned it. The grey oversized hoodie that he loved so much, he decided to give it to you before things got hectic, knowing you will miss him a hell lot when you two got very busy. You have been wearing it out of habit actually, but you didn’t really care because all hope was lost, so it was about time you lost his scent and made it yours. 

“No, it smells like cigarettes now.” 

“Hey, it was my favourite hoodie though! Should I bring back my scent that you love so much-”

“Stop, I don’t want to. I wear it out of habit. And for smoking.” 

Yeonjun slowly retracted back his arms that were almost hugging your figure, wanting to hold you again once more, after the drought of not hugging someone that is as precious and adorable as you. He understood that you needed space, but that sentence did break his heart even more. 

“...I’ll hear you out again once more. Properly. And I'll think about it this time," you mentioned your final choice to listen to his reasonings and explanations behind his never-ending fight to win you back.

In that split second his heart was mended instantly, and his lips stretched into a small smile, happy that the boy had finally gotten a small victory. He turned his whole body to you, and began speaking his truth. 

“I admit I was at fault, the one who started the fight and initiated the break up. I know I messed up, big time. I won’t even blame the dance competition, or Soobin. Just myself. I was stupid enough to make that move out of the blue, especially when you were stressed about your presentations. I am terribly sorry for what I have done, and I promise you that when we have arguments again, I will never, ever do that again. You have been the best I ever had in my life, and I don’t want to be with anyone else, just you. I want to settle down with you and only you! I even thought about how many kids we should have and what kind of house we should-” 

“Woah damn. Slow down? How did an apology get to a proposal?” 

You giggled at his speech that sounded like he was going to get down on one knee to propose to you. He reacted the same as well, but for a different reason, when he saw you finally smiling because of him. 

“Okay okay. Take your time though, I can wait all day for your response.” 

“Really? Okay, I can go back to class and get back to you tonight then?” You joked, trying to get up from your spot while he tried to pull you back down. “Hey no i didn’t mean that!” 

“I’m just joking, jjunie."

His heart fluttered at the mention of the nickname, that was specially made by you. No one else can call him that.

You decided to respond after sighing. 

“Honestly? I feel the same. I too feel incomplete without you. Ever since we broke up, I couldn’t move on, and it felt wrong to do so. It was as if the universe didn’t allow me to. Do I resent you for that? Yes. Are you at fault? Obviously. But one thing I know for sure, that you regret it. From constantly begging me, to sending me letters and flowers, it was stupid, but it kind of reassured me to know that I wasn’t feeling stupid, alone.” 

You looked at him after speaking, and he has been staring at you with glossy eyes, arms wrapped around his knees. You smiled genuinely towards him. 

“My mother still asks about you too, you know? Asking when you are coming back to visit her again,” 

With that sentence, tears fell from his eyes, he didn’t even put in the effort to wipe it off. His smile became crooked as his sobbing became harder. You felt bad, you hate to see your favourite person cry. You gave in, and gave Yeonjun a comforting hug, wrapping your warm arms around him, cooing and patting him like a little child. 

“I’m sorry… I really am.” 

“It’s okay. Me too.” 

[somewhat-insane]

Okay, so, I know a lot of people were discouraged after the LMK S5 trailer. The art is different, yes, but remember there are still people working behind the screen; passionate about this story they're trying to tell. To rebuild faith and re-spark hope, I'm going through the trailer frame by frame and sharing anything cool I find. (There is some (what I hope is) constructive criticism in here, but I would like to reiterate something other fans have said. DO. NOT. HARRASS. ANYONE. WORKING. ON. THE. SHOW. They're doing their best with what they have available to them. We're lucky Wildbrain decided to pick the show back up because if they hadn't, we may not have gotten the rest of the story.)

They've been brought in front of the council to discuss their car's extended warranty. ALSO WHERE IS MK'S JACKET AND BANDANA? THEY WHOLE ASS PROBABLY SNATCHED THIS POOR BOY OUT OF HIS BED WHILE HE WAS SLEEPING

Don't worry, babygirl, I still think you're pretty ^3^

Okay, they gave him his clothes back, phew.

Hehe, tiny monkies.

At least our child is still adorable.

Synchronized heart attack.

He is so traumatized, lol. Someone brought up how this design for the circlet wasn't the previously established design in the show, but it COULD be based on the design used on the cover of the Journey to the West novel (as seen below)

It's not exactly the same but the shape is similar.

Anyway.

WUKONG ANGST WUKONG ANGST WUKONG ANGST

I'm realizing while doing this that Wildbrain doesn't use as many smear frames as Flying Bark did. As funny as it is to pause and see something like this in season 1-4:

It makes the animation look a LOT smoother and more energetic. Flying Bark also seems to use more frame-by-frame while Wildbrain probably uses more tweening. I suppose it makes sense though because Wildbrain is more used to 3D animation and the 2D animation they have done in the past is more paper-doll-like and doesn't need as much bounce and action.

Back to the trailer, no need to dwell.........

MO. HANG IN THERE.

MONKEY ANGST MONKEY ANGST MONKEY ANGST aposhdgpafoshdfosfapsdofpa

Oooh, wait, this frame actually kinda goes hard. I'm kinda hyped... I should draw this.

NO BRO DON'T MAKE ME CRY JUST BECAUSE OF A TRAILER

You know what this makes me think of...? Did any of you guys ever play that game called "Journey"?

It's a beautiful game with beautiful music. Y'all should play it if you haven't. Oh, and sometimes if you're playing at the same time as someone else in the world, your games will merge and you get a little play buddy :3

Genuinely love how distressed he is here.

SHADOWPEACH ANGST SHADOWPEACH ANGST

Looks like we're still gonna get cool backgrounds and background character designs!!!!

This looks like it may be some kind of storybook or memory sequence like when Chang'e was talking about how she found the ring in S3 or when LBD was talking about Macaque's death... what memory do you think we're going to be exploring this time?

This goes pretty hard. I would paint this on a wall or something.

Mk is flabbergasted.

Yay!! Mk has the support he needs. ALSO MORE SANDY

They're mortified. Probably because they just watched a giant dragon and white tiger fucking evaporate.

Hehe bord

I can't wait to see fanart of him. I'm so excited!

SHADOWPEACH SHADOWPEACH SHADOWPEACH

He's thinking about kissing him, honest.

I think he's purty

MORE PIGSY-

I've run out of room for pictures, but I hope this helped get y'all all hyped again for the new season! Have hope, stay strong!