#i can't imagine how you can watch a show and be like

[calmcoldevening]

Hey hon, just read your Art x virgin HC. Although I kinda wanted to pick your brain on reader x confused inexperienced Virgin! Art…

Virgin!Art the clown x reader

Tw: smut, nsfw

Note: it's short but I tried. Show this guy real pleasure, babe

• Art got used to the fact that his human body was capable of feeling cold or in rare cases needing food, although his demonic abilities still made him immortal. But some other physiological issues remained incomprehensible to him.

• Art doesn't know how or why he left you alive and relatively unharmed, but your presence seemed almost bearable to him. He is used to the fact that you are often around, that you cook for him and from time to time blow his brains out with your discontent, like why he left traces of blood on the floor in your bathroom again.

• But it was okay, really okay. Art got used to it after a couple of weeks, accepting it as his new reality. At least you didn't scream once again and didn't try to turn him over to the police (he knew perfectly well that some boys in blue wouldn't stop him in any way, but he didn't want to shine once again before his next loud bloody "show")

• But sometimes he wondered why your body was different from his own. He's seen you change clothes or walk around the house in just a towel or underwear a hundred times, and he's seen women's bodies under his knife a million more times. And it really occupied his brain. The difference was obvious.

• Art saw some guys flirting with you in a bar a few times, and it pissed him off. You tried to laugh it off and try to get away from the guys, but they kept trying to touch you (of course, Art personally strangled them later). But he was interested in touching you as well. It looked strange, new to him.

• The first time he saw you naked, you never thought it would do anything to him. After all, you knew that Art wasn't really human, so you didn't expect any obvious reaction.

• But one day you came home pretty drunk and climbed up to Art with hugs. It was just awkward hugs on the couch and sloppy kisses. You sat on his lap with your arms around his neck and smeared his face paint with your grinning lips, whispering words like 'my handsome'. Art didn't expect any sensations. He had been in this situation before, and then he realized how stupid people can be under the influence of alcohol. But it felt different with you. He felt a strange burning sensation in his body, and his pants became uncomfortably tight under your warm thighs.

• Then he did not focus on it and the feeling quickly passed. But it came back later, when you weren't drunk anymore. He could just admire you for a long time or follow some female victim, unknowingly imagining you in her place. It made him very hard. His rapid breathing and heartbeat were driving him crazy, although he had long realized that his heart was almost dead in this body.

• But Art, surprisingly, liked the feeling. And the feeling of your weight in his arms was damn tempting.

• Although Art often thought about it, he did not know at all what it was called and why people felt it. That's why you were the one who initiated the whole thing.

• One dark evening, the two of you watched some kind of bloody horror movie that Art especially likes. Although he frowned and condemned the unreality of the bloody scenes with gestures. It is dark outside and heavy rain is dripping, pounding on the windows with force. Your hand gently took his gloved hand, tracing the rough cold knuckles. At first, he does not notice your touch, but gradually your hand moves higher and higher, gently wrapping around his neck. In one deft movement, you straddled his knees, pulling him closer to you by the neck. There's a sly smile on your face. Art's eyes widen in surprise, but he can't deny the anticipation growing in his chest, even though he didn't quite understand what you wanted from him.

• You gently move your hips back and forth, feeling the growing warmth under your body. Art didn't know that feeling. He seemed to be detached from his own body at the moment, but he was warm and pleasant. A strange tingling sensation in his body began to bother him a little. Your hands gently traced the fabric of his suit, your fingers gently glided over his makeup, sloppily smearing black lipstick. Art's hands instinctively rested on your hips, gently squeezing your flesh.

• His body was moving on its own. The strange tingling and growing heat were driving his brain crazy. The warmth of your soft thighs didn't help his frantic thoughts at all. The movie almost became background noise, all Art was focused on right now was you and the feelings you caused him.

• Art let out a soundless moan, feeling himself pressing against your body and feeling an almost painful pressure. But he frowned slightly, pressing your hips harder against his knees, and rolled his eyes for a moment. There was a momentary pleasant sensation through his body, which made his heart beat with renewed vigor, and his breathing quickened. God, you made him feel so good. He had never felt anything like this. His pants instantly got wet, pulling a satisfied chuckle out of you.

• "So fast sweet pie? Why don't we try again? 'm sure you'll like it more."

[cookiekissers]

can we please get a buring spice x fragile reader, like they want to help and fight/hunt but physical can't because they are that fragile, simply bumbing into another cookie could cause them to crack!

Do Not Go Gently

[Burning Spice Cookie x Fragile Reader]

I was inspired and tried something a little different with this so I hope you like it! and Burning Spice redemption anyone? B)

The life of a Wild Spice was fraught with constant struggle and danger. If you were weak, you would be ground into dust, either by one of the other tribes or by the Great Destroyer himself. And you happened to be one of the weaker spices.

Delicate and fragile by nature, your main ingredient was parsley. The harsh desert winds of your homeland often left your leaves and dough brittle. The stronger Wild Spices almost always belittled you and your small tribe as you barely etched out an existence. You weren't tough and built with natural armour, like the Pepper Pangolins, or strong like the Saffron Buffaloes. But if there was one thing you were, it was tenacious.

When the Great Destroyer returned, you feared that your inherent frailness only spelled ruin for you and your tribe, soon to join the scattered remains of your ancestors. Despite the risks, you boldly joined the other Wild Spice leaders and offered your loyalty and service to Burning Spice Cookie.

He had looked over you and laughed, calling you weak and pathetic. As you knelt there, showing your sincere devotion, you thought it was all over for you. Still, Burning Spice miraculously passed over you and left you be. The Great Destroyer was not known to spare those he thought weak, so you could only imagine that he saw something in you that you hadn't. Since that moment, you were inspired by the Great Destroyer, not out of fear but admiration. You knew he didn't care for you. With a sweep of his hand, he could wipe your existence from this earth in seconds. But still, you fought hard and trained harder until your dough was cracked and crumbling to show that you had a right to continue living. Burning Spice Cookie had spared you. Your life had to mean something to him.

The little thing kneeling at his feet was pathetic. A Cookie so fragile that their dough cracked at the mildest of strikes was not worthy to be in his presence. And yet, instead of hiding from his inevitable fury, here you were. Burning Spice had to admit, you had guts. He didn't want to waste his time crumbling you himself when he knew you wouldn't put up a good fight. It would be far more entertaining to watch you struggle, only for you to fall to your unavoidable fate.

And yet...

That moment never came. Regardless of how grievous your wounds or the crumbling of your dough, you threw yourself back into battle again and again. Unafraid of the death that awaited you. Burning Spice Cookie found himself almost... fascinated by you.

You were so fragile, doomed to fail. And yet... you fought to cling a little longer to your short, pathetic life.

It reminded him of a time long past.

One day, after Burning Spice had enough of the annoying thoughts of you buzzing around his head, he decided to pay your tribe a visit. All the inhabitants of your tribe weren't as tough as you, which was somewhat of a disappointment. They scurried into their homes, terrified of him, or fell to their knees, grovelling at his feet for mercy. But you... you remained standing, like a resolute warrior, poised as if death were coming to claim you. You were unafraid. You had accepted it, but that did not mean you would go without a grand fight.

He approached you, ignoring the rest of your tribe, and you bowed your head in respect to the Great Destroyer. You didn't bow as deeply as you used to, but Burning Spice let it slide.

You had changed. Your eyes held a solemn understanding, and your dough was now riddled with scars, honourable rewards of fighting to see another day.

Burning Spice Cookie watched you, realizing he had no words. Why had curiosity brought him here to see you? He couldn't come up with an answer. His previous excuse of being amused by your antics had faded into something... else.

You broke the silence and invited Burning Spice Cookie into your humble home, and he accepted. Your tribe was astonished at their leader, who stood fearlessly in front of the Great Destroyer, and he had not razed their village to the ground in retaliation.

"Well, this is a surprise." Burning Spice Cookie mused. It was still surprising to him. Destruction was the end of all things, whether by his hand or not. But you stood in the face of it and fought it. Refusing to meet it on its terms.

"That I'm still here?" You replied bluntly, an amused smile on your face. Burning Spice Cookie would usually have felt excitement upon discovering a Cookie like you - someone who could ignite his passion and provide a worthy challenge now that you had grown stronger against all odds. However, that’s not how he felt at this moment. It wasn't even boredom. Instead, he felt the same solemness reflected in your eyes.

Burning Spice Cookie asked you to be his right hand. The request came so suddenly that it left you momentarily stunned. All the strife and gruelling work you had endured had finally paid off in a way you never could have imagined.

"Yes, I would be honored, my lord. Thank you." You said, quickly bowing your head deeply in gratitude.

Burning Spice Cookie knew that your luck was going to eventually run out and your fragile dough would crumble, slipping through his fingers like the sands of time. Like with all things, it was inevitable, regardless of how hard you fought to cling to your pitiful life.

But he would be there when it happened, he would watch you. He would burn your rage into his mind as you descended into the endless night, fighting and spitting for just one more day.

Once you joined your ancestors, he would remember you. Always.

[smallestapplin]

My god I love your harem universe. Especially the Autobots and Decepticons having little piss fights over their precious human!

Now I’m just imagining poor Thundercracker and his “secret” crush on the human and how infatuated he is. Like a big love sick puppy

I can see him trying to shyly woo the human, possibly finding out where the human lives (from Skywarp cuz he couldn’t keep his mouth shut from his trine), sneaking over at night when they’re sleeping and doing something cheesy like throwing pebbles (small rocks) at their window to get their attention.

Poor guy probably fumbles and is blushing and he would just be so darn cute trying to ask the human out!!

I love thundercracker so much, thank you for this.

-

-

Thundercracker knew he shouldn't be here, he knew it well too, if the autobots won't have his head then the other decepticons would, the very thought should stop him in his tracks.

But here he stands just outside your habsuite, he's not sure what humans call it, but it looks nice, and is further away from town so he won't run into more humans, just you. Just you is all he wants, yes he's seen the footage Laserbeak caught, yes he watched it over and over and over again, imagining him as your lover.

Yet his spark yearned for something more.

You seemed so sweet, so funny, so considerate, that maybe, just maybe he'd have a chance with you, you already have s bunch of lovers, what's one more, right? He couldn't face you, but what could he give to make you know he wanted you?

Each morning when you'd awake, ready to head back to the autobot base, there would be quite the gift waiting for you.

First it was a big thing of energon, something you couldn't drink, though you've tried.

Next it was a massive geo cluster that had you in awe, you could barely manage to get it into your house, it was half the size of you! Next were some large sunflowers, root, dirt, and all on your porch.

A part of you wondered if you should ask around base, but maybe that would ruin the surprise? Or maybe it'll get them paranoid that someone else wants you, you don't feel threatened so you don't mention it.

It's not every night, but it's every other weekend, so it makes you wonder what their schedule is like.

Thundercracker can't believe himslef, he's like a sparkling all over again! When had his spark last pumped like this? The nervousness that ate away at his confidence, his anxiety rising each time he snuck away from the ship, and landed a little ways away from your habsuite, just as he's done every other weekend.

Walking as quietly as he could, making sure the groun beneath him crunched very little, he made his way up your driveway, ready to place yet another gift of flowers at your doorstep. His red optics look around, stopping when he saw the other flowers he gave you planted in your front yard.

You liked them! His wings twitch behind him, fluttering happily, he can't stop the smile forming on his face plate.

He looks at the very delicate flowers in his servos, the plants nearly as tall as the last bunch he gave you, but in reds, purples, and pinks, maybe you'd like the variety more? He hopes, he can already feel his spark racing.

Thundercracker carefully lays the flowers on your porch, making sure they are neat and out of the way so you won't step on them. He leans back eyeing his work, pleased with himself.

Your planet has many weird resources, but he's happy to have found something you liked! Normally on cybertron he would've found and gifted you shiny metals, or maybe even rare ones.

He wonders for a moment if you'd like an aerial show, and let him show off for you? Nah, that's too much, at least for right now-

"So you're the one leaving gifts for me."

You have to bite back a laugh as the giant bot jumps, flinching at the sound of your voice. His optics wide and staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. There you stand on your roof, in your sleep wear, with a tired smile.

Thundercracker tries to control himself, but little does he know he wings are giving him away, shaking as he calms himself.

"Oh..I..uhh..I didn't mean to wake ya?"

His face plate is heating up, flushing a deep blue from the energon going to his helm.

"You didn't wake me up, I was staying up in hopes to catch you. I was wondering who was leaving me these things."

Oh Primus, he made you miss a rest cycle? Frag, he feels so bad.

"Thank you."

.....huh?

You smile once more, chuckling at his baffled expression.

"Thank you for the gifts, it's very sweet of you, Thundercracker."

You wish you could take a picture with his stiff his body gets, how his wings wiggle up and down, and just how adorable such a normally intimating con could be.

You knew his name, you remembered him! That means you think of him, right? He could melt right where he stood, he could offline right now and die happy.

"Don't mention it." He carefully sits down on yout lawn, allowing his face to be more level with yours, "On Cybertron it was common practice, mostly for us seekers, to gift items like this."

"To start a courtship, I take it?"

You can't hold back laughing now, nearly wheezing at how he sputters and trips over his words trying to explain no but yes, but also-

"How did you-"

"Wild guess, but your reaction was too cute."

He's going to die, this is how it ends for him, the cute human he's taken with flirting with him.

"I wouldn't mind."

Truly you wouldn't, you know your agreement with the autobots, they all agreed to be your lovers and not fight over who else you date, but you'll have to have a talk with them about at least Thundercracker.

He seems so sweet under that gruff exterior.

Even if such a big scary con shakes under getting a few compliments.

[bunny-1111]

Beg for it, Part 3 - Theo Nott Smut

Description: Returning to Hogwarts after ignoring Theodore all summer long, was so much worse than you imagine; Theodore was starving you of what you so desperately needed.

part 1 - part 2

Word Count: 1.4k

SMUT MINORS DO NOT INTERACT - unread and unedited

Comments, likes and reblogs appreciated my loves <3

...

Theodore closes the shower screen door with such hast and strength you thought the glass might smash.

The steam filled the small space, and the heat of the running water ran fast down your body. You didn't know if the temperature or his fierce kisses were making you lightheaded. As he pressed you against the cool tile, you felt instantly relieved.

There was no time to be slow or soft; he came at you wickedly rough, his mouth exploring as much of your bare skin as he could swallow.

You’d half-expected him to let go, all the teasing, all the games; you hadn't really expected them to stop.

His sloppy mouth travelled from your lips to the bottom of your ear as you felt the pinch of his teeth collect your skin. You couldn't collect your breath, panting against his, a trembling, weak mess.

"Please, teddy, please", you practically cry, he was unravelling you by the millisecond, you wanted him so bad, it was undoing you completely, exposed, unraveled.

"Please what?" he spat out, his voice like venom

You were going to reply, really, the words were about to spill, but then his hand suddenly took a handful of your ass, squeezing so hard, you blanked.

He pushes your body even harder against his own, the noise of running water flowing, everything was so wet, losing balance, your feet almost slip below you, Theo holding your whole body up with a death grip.

He cups your face with his hand, you can't help but break away from the kiss. In need of something more, you grip his wrist as you begin to take his fingers in your mouth. You stare right at him as you do so, your wide eyes flutter up, he can't help but lean his head back and groan, he was mad at you yes, but fuck you're sexy.

You watch the droplets of water drip down his face to his chest. He looked so good. His fingers taste so good in your mouth as he slams them deeper, almost reaching your throat's bottom.

Your hand lurks down your own thigh, desperate for relief, Theo's eyes flicker down and follow your fingers, halting everything, gripping your wrist.

"don't you fucking dare" he spits

"Then do it for me! I can't keep going. I need you inside me, now!" you choke out

With the speed of a cracked whip, Theodore picks you up again, not bothering to turn the water off, carrying you to your bed. The feeling of his hardness hitting you with each step almost made you faint.

Sitting you at the edge of the bed, he lines himself up with a long exhale. "You're so fucking wet" he praises as he injects his tip

"I've been drenched for you for weeks Theo" you admit in a rush

"Gotta do something about that, hm" he growls enter you without warning, a smile creeps up your lips, ugh, finally.

Theo's eyes stay on yours until you can't look up anymore.

Flipping you around, he starts from behind, your favourite.

Your moans are music to his ears, he can hardly hold back his own listening to you "I love those pretty noises, darling" he praises, gathering your hair in his hand.

"are you mine?” he questions, his voice a low growl, each word sending a thrill through you. “huh!” he screams out, yanking your hair back

“Yes, Theo, I’m yours—” The words tumble out, and he cuts you off by covering your mouth with his hand, swallowing the rest of your sentence as though he can’t stand to hear anything but your submission

"Yeah well you didn't do much to show for it during break, did you" he pants out

A wail of pleasure leaves your mouth as you feel each pound so deeply, his hand still crushing your face as his hand stays snaked around your jaw

"yeah, you can't talk right now? how about you write it out instead" he chuckles a dark laugh you had only heard once before

You tug your brows up; what did he mean write? You could hardly breathe

One of his hands leave it's place on your hip, leaning over to grab the parchment that laid on your bedside, he moves slowly cautious to not slip out of you.

You try to follow his movement, it wasn't until the parchment and a quill was thrown in front of you that you that you became utterly confused.

Theodore crept his mouth just beside your ear, his breath hot against you "I want you to write out, how sorry you are" he whispered

"No tedd-" you begin

"It wasn't a question, go on" he insisted as he adjusted his hands back to your hips, arching your back even lower than it already was

'I'm not fucking playing. Pick up the pen" he instructed, his voice booming behind you

Your shaky hand bring the parchment closer, trembling as the quill touches down. You try your best, but Theo resumes his way with you, going harder than ever, slamming into you as you attempt to even remember to spell.

Your breath hitching as you finish your pathetic attempt at writing 'I'm sorry', your elbow giving out with the last letter.

"Good girl" he grins, flipping you over, facing him again, his hand sliding down your leg to finally grab hold of your ankle, positioning your leg to lay on his shoulder.

Delirious and dizzy, you lift your head up to watch what you are feeling, it was too much, seeing him pulse in and out, you can't help but take hold on his arm, clawing onto any part of him you could hold.

He could feel it, too, moving you to sit on his lap, you arms wrap around to his back, unsteady, your hands move up and down as you do.

"Theo, Theo, Theo" you pant out as you squeeze around him

"That's it, baby, let it out" he guides you as you feel that sticky white substance drips out of you, so full, so satisfied.

As he slows down and pulls out he connects your lips again, mouthfuls of love with each peck.

You both stay there, unmoving, catching your breath, Theo mumbling lovely words, how much he loves you, missed you, how good you felt after too long

"you feel better baby" he says as his hands find their way through your hair

"mhm" you nod gently in agreement mustering through the comedown of the high

"I needed that" you sigh, your forehead meeting his as he pucks your hair weakly behind your ear

"I know" he admits kisssing your forehead tenderly

"I did too" he continues as he wraps his burly arms around you

"c'mere", he mutters, moving you to spoon.

All of that tension, everything you just felt, you knew then and there, you couldn't right him next break either, if it meant you'd be fucked like that again.

...

my first proper proper smut... im sorry part 3 took so long, but here you go my babies <3

-B.

Comments, likes and reblogs appreciated my loves <3

Taglist: (everyone that commented for part 3) @cookiesex115 @jetblackpayne @flowersarcute @staarflowerr @iamaslytherin0 @fanfic-girl-2 @notttheo-sgirl @blocked-zombieartist @ayyeitssarahh

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

a day in the life where everyone tries to win reader over, maybe they heard reader mention something like how they can't stand an annoying relative asking them about a relationship over the holidays, or trying to get her the best gift?

ps i love your writing, i read it like my morning paper

A Day in Life: Christmas, Presents and Revelations

Synopsis: A day in your life full of good Christmas presents, propositions and secrets.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: Implied stalking; Calling someone a manwhore; Karens in the family with traditional and conservative ideals and miserable lives; Mentions of past cheating; Mentions of past Bucky Barnes X reader; Is Hal Jordan slowly getting his redemption arc?; Slightly implied horny Reader; English is not my first language.

Word count: 2,2k

Requested? Yup.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

— And it's just so annoying, like, sometimes I literally don't want to show up on these things, but I don't want to leave my mom there alone with my dad’s family. — You huffed. — My auntie’s too concerned about my romantic life, like her husband didn't get other three women pregnant at the same time she got pregnant and only married her because he would have to marry one of the four girls. — You shook your head while your co-worker laughed. — And you know what's worse? I told everyone I had a boyfriend, but Bucky cheated on me, and I didn't tell them that yet, so she's gonna think I lied and mock me like the middle-aged Regina George she is!

Unknown to you, certain people were listening, and silently, each one of them made a decision.

Your last day at work before Christmas, you were getting ready to go home, pack and take the road, when someone knocked on your office door. You looked up, seeing no other than Martian Manhunter at your door, holding a present.

— How can I help? — You hid your gritted teeth behind a polite tone.

— I came here to follow the Earth tradition of Christmas and give my loved one a present. — He stopped in front of you with a soft smile and extended the gift in your direction. You hesitated.

— You didn't have to… — You cautiously took the present from his hand.

— I also have a proposition for you. — And there it comes. — I couldn't help but overhear earlier that you were in need of a partner for a meeting with your family. — You wanted to facepalm. — I could be that person. — You sighed.

— I can't show up with an alien superhero. — You crossed your arms with a pointed look.

— As you know, I'm a shapeshifter. — You watched as he changed his appearance to look like multiple different kind of people, one moment he was a tall blonde man, the next, a black girl with braids, then an asian young guy, and so on, meaning he could look however you wanted him to. — And you can call me by whatever name you choose, even the name I adopted here on Earth… J’onn J’onnes. — He settled for his usual green alien appearance. — You widened your eyes at his confession, thinking “oh, shit”.

— Uhh…

— While you think about it, open my present, darling. — He gently pushed the present in your direction again and you, still wordless, obeyed, while mentally searching for a way out of this.

You cleared your throat and teared the paper. The feeling of destroying the wrapping paper of gifts always made you feel a little embarrassed, as if the beautiful wrapping itself was the present and you were being rude by tearing it apart. It was a silly thought.

As you finished, you found out he gave you a comic book from your favorite hero. It made you excited, but you couldn't show it much.

— Oh wow, thank you… — You coughed. — Can't even imagine how you knew it was my favorite… — You internally rolled your eyes. — Anyway, about your offer- — Another knock interrupted you, and you both looked at the door. Aquaman was there with another present in hand.

He looked suspiciously from you to the other hero and stepped forward, then focused on you.

— Whatever offer he gave you, I give you one better. Take a king to meet your family, darling. — He smirked and offered you his present. You ignored what he said, settled the comic on your desk, and opened his present. It was a necklace with charms related to the beach, like some shells, pears and fishes, all made of your favorite metal. You pursed your lips, not waiting to admit to yourself that it was pretty and you liked it more than you thought you would, just like the last gift.

— Thank you. And about your offer, I can't exactly do that. You can imagine why. — He shrugged.

— Well, you can simply take me as your completely human lighthouse keeper, Arthur. — He smirked and wrapped your shoulders with his left arm. You shuddered, thinking “God, no”. — We’ll even invite them to our beach house, darling. Right on the shore. I also have a boat. Let's impress them. — He grinned proudly, as if he was sure you couldn't deny him.

You shrugged his arm off and before anything came out of your mouth, you remembered about your auntie and her shittalking right now. She always wanted a beach house, but everyone knew your uncle prefered to spoil himself and his side-pieces than her or the kids, and yet, she felt superior to every member of the family who was single because at least she had a husband and she didn't need to work, including you.

Rubbing a beach house, a boat, and a blonde hunk himbo on her face could be nice… Even if you just offered to take only your immediate family there one day and then just pretend you broke up with him later, he and the league would still get the wrong idea.

— Knock knock, oh- What’s everyone doing here? — Flash was there and pursed his lips while looking at the three of you. You groaned internally.

— You can go, Flash, (Y/N) won't choose you. — Aquaman, or Arthur, weaved him off. Flash narrowed his eyes for a second and then turned to you, ignoring him and beaming at you, extending a gift in your direction.

— I bought you something! — You discharged the necklace behind you and took the new gift, it was a bracelet with a lightning symbol in your favorite metal. It was also pretty, you were getting tired of it.

— Thank you, Flash…

— Please, just call me Barry. — He grinned brightly. — Please ignore the stinking ugly dressed fishman and the alien still learning to act like a normal human. You can take the funny and smart forensic chemist to meet your family. — He reached up and took his mask off, you widened your eyes, at seeing his real face. Huh, you didn't think he was blonde.

You stuttered, too shocked.

— Oh God… — You thought knowing their name was worse than their faces, secret identities and all, but something about seeing a real face that was kept hidden all the time felt like a heavier burden. To make matters worse, Green Lantern showed up. — No.

— Just hear me out, please! — Everyone turned to him with annoyed expressions. — I changed, I swear! And I apologized like, a thousand times. — He cleared his throat. By your face, he knew it was the worst thing to say. — Anyway, here’s your gift. — He bit his lip while you took it from his hands and opened it with hostility. They were tickets for the next concert of one of your favorite artists, that made you feel a little bad for the way you treated him, but it didn't change what he did to you in the past.

— I… Thank you. — You were trembling with nerves at this point from all the surprises you were having.

— I heard you needed someone to bring home for the holidays…

— Uhuh.

— And your dad is a big fan of the army, right? — You blinked. It was true, but you never told them that, yet, you weren't surprised they knew that.

Where was he going with it…?

— Please, not you too.

But he took off his ring anyway, and after a moment, he was wearing civilian clothes, along with a military jacket and dogtags.

— Who better than a charming ex-air force member to present to your family? Test pilot now, I can take them flying. Actually, I can take you flying. — He winked. — Call me Hal Jordan, beautiful. — He winked and saluted you. — Also, I fought in the war.

— Dude. Just give up. They're not gonna pick you.

— I will never give up, I'm a green lantern, strong will is kind of my thing. — He looked at you again. — So, darling?

While you were staring blankly at him, someone cleared their throat.

— Be reasonable, you don't have to be humiliated today. — Wonder Woman catwalked into the room confidently. She was holding two bags from a clothes store in her hands. The amazon pushed Hal Jordan aside and stopped in front of you. She looked you up and down and smiled charmingly. — Take me with you, darling. This is for you. — She extended one of the bags to you. You took it and looked inside, then reached in and pulled it out. It was a beautiful outfit, completely on your style, and clearly of good quality. But when she pulled out what was inside the other bag, it took your attention and you looked curiously at the red wine satin dress she was holding up. — And this is what I will be wearing. — She smiled seductively. — Diana Prince, pleasure to meet you.

You couldn't help your jaw from dropping while imagining her wearing that. While some family members might not admire the sensual outfit as much, you definitely would. Secretly. Your ego would too.

Damn it, why couldn't she be more normal and less yandere?

You swallowed, looking away from her and the dress. It was finally too hard to say no, but not for the mature reasons.

At your silence, Diana’s eyebrows rose up and she tilted her head to the side, with a pleased small smile. The other men in the room groaned and started arguing loudly, but she was untouchable in front of you.

Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.

— I think I should just go home, it's getting late… — You rapidly shoved your gifts inside the bag, took your things and squeezed your way between them heroes, not even realizing how trapped you were previously, but just as you got to the door, you hit a brick wall, or Superman, as people usually call him.

You groaned and he looked at you sheepishly.

— I guess after all of that I can't offer you something much better, but I can try… — Superman took a deep breath and before you could blink, he flew away, changed clothes, and came back. One second, Superman was in front of you, the next, just a regular cute guy wearing glasses and a suit. You took a second to recognize him and understand what happened and what that meant.

Damn, who knew glasses were a good disguise.

— I'm Clark, Clark Kent. I grew up on a farm in Kansas and I work as a journalist at the Daily Planet. — He smiled shyly and gave you his gift. — I hope you like it…

You blinked and catatonically looked at the thing he gave you. Differently from the last gifts, it wasn't neatly wrapped and it had a weird shape, but by how it felt in your hands, you guessed what it was.

You expected the sight of a Superman plushie to greet you, but instead, it was a plushie of your favorite fictional superhero. The same hero from the Martian’s comic.

Well, it was cute. You would probably fall for him if you didn't know better. You held back an awed sound that wanted to spill from the back of your throat.

Suddenly, the silence was broken by all the Justice League groaning a collective and loud “GET OUT”, you looked up, confused and curious by what caused all this, surprised by seeing it was just Batman entering the room.

Huh, why did everyone react like that?

He stared at you, then at every single one of them, silently, almost disapproving, or disappointed, but then, he smirked when he looked at you again.

Batman was smirking? You flinched.

— This is for you. — He gave you a big box. It was surprisingly heavy. When you opened it, there was a very expensive and beautiful pair of shoes, something you only dreamed of having and was always on your Pinterest board. Only digital influencers and celebrities wearing it, making you jealous. But that wasn't all. There was also jewelry and a very expensive bottle of wine. You will definitely take it to the holidays to impress your family. Or maybe keep it to a very special occasion. — And there’s more from where it came from. — He reached for his cowl and your breath hitched. Never in your wildest dreams you thought this day would happen.

He took of the cowl, and in front of your was…

Bruce Wayne?!

While everyone deflated, knowing they lost, you just had to hold back your laugh, but a snort still escaped. That took everyone off for a second, including the always stoic hero in front of you, who was clearly bewildered when you couldn't hold back anymore and laughed to his face.

— You think I'm gonna show up to my family with the nacional manwhore? HA! Yeah, that's gonna impress them for the first five minutes, then I will be the dummy who’s gonna be traded for the next top model. — You shook your head, still laughing. Bruce frowned deeper. You slightly feared for your job after you bluntly called him a manwhore.

— I would never do that to you. My affairs are all to deceive the public and keep my job a secret.

— And that might be true, but my family doesn't know that! Or are you gonna tell this to everyone? Funny. Billionaires are so delusional and out of touch… — You shook your head and walked out.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[mc-lukanette]

Luka was still a child, far too young to worry about much of anything, yet he worried anyway because Marinette seemed worried. While she still engaged with him during their usual playtime and listened eagerly when he showed her the new toy he'd gotten, she felt distant and was more quiet than usual. It was a problem, not only because she was his friend and he cared, but he liked hearing her talk and ramble to him.

She wasn't doing any of that while she was so distracted.

He didn't ask about it - Juleka had told him once that girls were allowed to have their secrets, and he didn't know if this might be one of them - so he tried to find other things for them to do, hoping it might interest her more. They took a break to eat, went for a walk around the Liberty to see if the flowers needed watering, then searched for something to watch together.

He was starting to lose hope that he could cheer her up when she suddenly spoke partway through their movie search.

"Magic's not real."

He looked, seeing her hunched over with a movie in her hands. Not knowing why she'd say such a thing, he asked in reply, "Why?"

She pouted, fidgeting with the movie as she explained, "I had to write stuff for school about the story of someone we look up to. I was gonna do the tooth fairy, because Santa has a hard job too but the tooth fairy's tiny and works all year."

He nodded along silently to her story, agreeing with the logic. "Then what?"

"I wanted to know where they got all the money for kids' teeth, like a job, so I sneaked onto the computer when no one was around and..." She let out a groan, slumping and falling back onto the floor. "They're not real."

It was a shock to him too, though Marinette had been through it first without any support, so he can't imagine how it was for her. "But magic can still be real, right? Just not the tooth fairy."

"Santa's not real either!" she shouted to the empty space in the room.

Luka slowly realized how much she'd kept inside the whole time.

"I just wanted to give him the cookies I made last Christmas," she said, rubbing her face tiredly, "but then I caught Papa dressed up like Santa!"

"How'd you know it was him?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

"It's Papa! No one else looks like him."

That was fair.

"I thought maybe Santa was sick from the North Pole cold and sent Papa clothes so no one knew, but... the clothes were so cheap!" She threw her hands up, nearly sending the movie across the room in the process. "They just did it to trick me if I tried to meet 'Santa'!"

Marinette knew her fashion, so he believed her. He imagined that she'd let the Santa clothes go for all that time and it was only after yet another disappointment with the tooth fairy that she gave in.

For his own part, Luka had believed in Santa, but not that he was the one delivering gifts. According to his mom, Santa abandoned his wife, leaving her to do all the gifting, and she'd "throw him overboard" if he ever came back. He'd always wondered why the other kids told different versions, but if it was just a story, then it made sense.

A sympathetic, "Oh," was all he could say. It wasn't easy for him to grasp that magic wasn't real as, while he'd never seen people fly or cast spells, he always thought it was pretty magical that he and Marinette met and became best friends.

"And if magic's not real, fairytales aren't too," Marinette concluded, gently tossing the movie aside.

It landed in front of Luka and he finally got to see what she'd been holding that started all this: a typical princess movie with a prince, a fairy godmother, and a witch-y villainess. He frowned, picking it up and turning it around to look at the back as well.

He trusted Marinette, so it must've been true that magic and fairytales weren't real. He was torn, because while it was sad that he wouldn't be seeing "real" magic in his life, it was weirdly comforting that life didn't work out the way it did in fairytales.

He'd always thought that Marinette was cute enough to be a princess, or at least the girls in the movies who became princesses. At the same time, the only boys the princesses and those girls tended to be around were princes, and Luka wasn't a prince; he wasn't even close. He wasn't rich, he wasn't royalty, he couldn't do a ballroom dance, and he hadn't defeated any evil dragons.

But if fairytales weren't real, then he could stay with her. That was one good thing.

Marinette sat up, defeated, but not enough to ignore fixing her bangs and checking the tightness of the hairties holding her pigtails in place. Luka blinked, briefly distracted by the trail of freckles underneath her sad, half-lidded eyes.

He was sure they hadn't done any art or crafts that day, but she must've before she'd gotten there, as her freckles were sparkling like they'd gotten glitter onto them. His nose scrunched in thought, wondering how he could've missed that when she'd gotten there.

"I wanted to be the knitting fairy when I grew up. I wanted to make clothes for everyone that was super comfy and didn't go out of style," she mumbled, her hands tightened into fists against her chest. "A-and make it so bullies would have clothes that never fit and were always really itchy!"

Her eyes flashed with frustration, looking more blue than usual. Luka went closer to sit down next to her, wanting to comfort her but not sure how.

"You can still make clothes," he pointed out. "You'll be good at it."

"But—!" she began to protest, turning fully to him. "I had other stuff I wanted to do with my magic! Like—ah... nnn..."

"Marinette?" he called, alarmed as she started to shake. He knew intuitively that it wasn't from rage.

She shut her eyes tight like she had a headache, squeezing herself in a hug. She opened her mouth to respond to him—

Only to disappear spontaneously in a cloud of thick, pink mist. Luka recoiled, staring at what looked almost looked like cotton candy in cloud form that Marinette had been lost in.

Without a thought as to if it might hurt him or not, he thrust his hand inside desperately, hoping to pull her out. He tried to grasp at where her shoulder had been before, but couldn't feel anything except for the bizarre, almost fuzzy feeling mist. Still, he noticed that the movement had cleared some of it, so he waved his arm about rapidly to try and clear as much of it as he could.

A very Marinette-like cough sounded from below, her voice filling him with relief as she called out, "L-Luka?"

His arm pulled back, the mist separating and fading away into nothingness. He looked down towards the source of her voice, thinking that she might have collapsed despite him having not heard it, but that's not at all what he ended up seeing.

Sitting on the floor just as she'd been before was a wide-eyed Marinette, but small; small enough for him to carry around in both hands. Her pigtails had rounded and gained little hair accessories that reminded him of tiny pincushions, while her outfit had changed to a pink, fluffy minidress.

Most notable, however, were the glowing white fairy wings that were coming out of her back. He covered his mouth with both hands in shock.

"You're magic," he said, though it was muffled behind his palms. Even if Santa and the tooth fairy weren't real, at least his inclinations about their magical meeting still made sense.

"W-what?!"

She jumped to her feet, noticing how little she rose up, then turned and twisted every way possible to look at herself, which was when he noticed that she also had pointed ears. Even as tiny as she was, Luka was observant enough to catch the tidal waves of emotion passing over her face one after another. She was surprised by the change, but the wings and new clothes made her giddy, then she swapped to being horrified.

"Ah, but—but there's no tooth fairy!" She put her hands to her cheeks in distress, so fast that they made a slapping sound. "If I was gonna be a fairy, I wanted someone to teach me! Does that—" She gasped. "—Does that mean I'm the only real tooth fairy? All by myself?! I don't have any money to give to other kids!"

Luka fretted as she paced in a tiny circle on the floor, two children entirely lost without direction.

"Or do I have to be a fairy godmother? Do I have to go find a girl to godmother to? What if I pick the wrong girl?!" She whined, the pacing picking up as she threw her arms about. "And I don't know anything about being a god, or a mother!"

He didn't know anything about what was going on, but he didn't want her to worry so much. Perhaps impulsively, he put a hand out to block the path she'd been pacing.

Marinette nearly bumped into it, but stopped just in time. She stared up at him with her wide eyes pleading and confused.

"Maybe you don't have to be anything?" He shrugged helplessly with one arm, hoping for the same as her. "Did it come with rules? Like a board game or a toy you build?"

She perked, realizing that he meant an instruction manual, and immediately started patting herself down. There weren't many places for a guide to be put on her, though he noticed that pockets seemed to magically form when Marinette tried to search for some.

"...No," she concluded when she'd run out of spots to check. "I-I don't think so?"

"Then it's gotta be okay," he said; more decided, really. He might not have fought off dragons, but he would hide and defend her if any sort of fairy police came to scold her for rules they didn't know about. His mom had always been a rule breaker and encouraged him to break them in cases like these.

Well, she didn't describe a situation like his best friend transforming into a fairy, but it fell within the category, he was sure.

As Luka tilted his head to fully take in Marinette, he saw her glancing over her shoulder at her wings. She arched her back, shoulders tensing as she closed her eyes, but the wings only fluttered briefly before she gave up.

"You wanna fly?" he wondered aloud.

"Yeah? No—yeah?" She blushed, getting up on her tip toes to try and make herself seem taller. "You'll hurt your neck if you keep looking down."

He unconsciously touched the back of his neck, having not given an ounce of thought to that. She was the one who suddenly changed, so why was she thinking about him? He looked around, trying to get a gauge on how the room must've looked to her, then suggested, "I can pick you up?"

"Mm?" She hadn't considered the possibility.

He laid his hands on the floor, palms facing up, and raised a brow as if to ask, 'is this okay?' Marinette stared at his hands, taking a few steps closer and looking them over like they were a puzzle, then slowly raised a leg and started to get on. He kept perfectly still, not wanting to jostle her, though she still fell forward due to his hands being a more uneven surface than the floor.

He would've helped had his hands not been preoccupied for obvious reasons. He was vaguely upset at them for being uneven in the first place, as if he'd had any control over that.

He waited for her to sit up and get her bearings, then started to stand up. He kept his eyes on her all the way to the coffee table, walking carefully so as to not trip or bump into anything. When they did reach it, he lowered his hands and she jumped off a couple inches away from the table, falling down slowly like a feather to both of their surprise.

"Oh." Marinette glanced at her wings again, as if she could belatedly check if they had fluttered automatically during the fall. Luka had been watching, so he knew it was just how her new body worked.

He sat himself down on the floor, his arms on the table for support so he could lean towards her. "Do you wanna change back?"

She pursed her lips at him, rubbing her chin, then cheek, and finally the back of her neck. "...I dunno? How?"

He racked his brain, tilting his head from side to side like it might help the thoughts move around more quickly. He recalled their conversation and tried to piece together any connection to her changing. "You were thinking about being a fairy? And magic?"

He didn't know how saying that helped, but she picked it up from there. "So... I have to think about being a not fairy? A not fairy without magic?"

He shrugged.

Since they didn't have any other alternatives, she went with it. Putting her teeny tiny hands on her teeny tiny hips, she shut her eyes and tried to focus. It did feel like a shame to try and change her back when she'd just turned into a fairy, but it was just as important to know what she could and couldn't do.

Nothing was happening though. Her brow twitched, her feet shifting in place impatiently. She swayed from side to side, not unlike he'd done earlier while thinking, then she opened her eyes to look up at him. Letting out a whine from her throat, she turned her back to him and tried again. He didn't know how that was supposed to make it easier on her.

Nothing again. She was still a fairy, still just as tiny, and she turned back to him with the same gleaming blue eyes, pointy ears, and glittery freckles.

"I can't," she said. "Not yet."

Yet? "What's wrong?"

"I'm still thinking about magic." She hesitated, then stepped closer and reached both of her hands up. "Come down."

The words alone were a demand, but the tone made it a shy request. He obeyed, bending over and letting his chin rest on his forearms.

Going close enough to his face that he had to cross his eyes to watch her, she stepped off to the side next to his head, putting a knee on his forearm as she leaned forward. While he couldn't see where she was reaching, he felt her fingertips against his cheek, at the hair in front of his ear.

"If I just have to think about it hard..." she murmured to herself.

He was really curious, but resisted asking in case it broke her focus. Was she performing magic on him? Was that why it felt so warm where she touched?

"Ah!" she yelped, startled, but what came out as shock quickly turned to delight. "It...it works! It works!"

"Marinette," he protested with a whine of his own, unable to stand the suspense.

"Sorry! Here, here..."

She was excited now, a far cry from the anxiety she'd shown when she first transformed. She moved back to where he could see her better, and this time he could watch as she slipped her fingertips through his bangs.

Like, well, magic, his hair changed from black to blue where she touched. He sucked in a breath, watching it spread further until she was satisfied, then she moved onto another lock of his hair. He had to grip his arms, forcing herself to stay still and not spring upwards from her contagious excitement.

She continued until his hair was dyed blue at the tips all along the front, then stepped back and jumped, limps spread in joy as she fell slowly back down. "Ta-dah! I'll do the back later too!"

He popped back up immediately, running his hand through his bangs to feel her work. Mesmerized by how simple the process had been and how perfect the magic dye job was, he let out a long, quiet, "ohhh."

She bounced up and down, then pointed at one of his hands. "Those next, those next!"

He followed the pointing to stare at it, not sure what she meant, but he wanted to know with action, not words. He leaned over once more to watch as close as he could, resting his hand flat on the table.

Marinette knelt down in front of it, placing her hands under his. With a small, "huph," she pulled it atop her lap as much as she could, then reached out towards his fingertips.

He realized what was happening before she'd started, based on where she'd touched: one of his black fingernails. She traced her hand around the outline of his nail, fixing the tiny mistakes and spreading the nail polish further in places he'd missed when he'd done it himself.

She tried to move over to reach the next fingernail when she was done with the first, but he moved his hand for her, offering her each finger at a time and then his thumb. She was elated, which he could understand for the sheer coolness factor of it all, but something in the back of his mind reminded him of everything she'd been saying, as well as what she was cut off from saying due to the transformation.

When she was done with his hand, he swapped it out for the other and asked, "What was it?"

"Mmm~?" she hummed, half of her attention on his nail polish.

"The other stuff? The magic that wasn't for the clothes," he clarified.

She stopped tending to his nails for a moment, beaming at him and answering with her full chest, "Stuff for you!" She waved her whole arm to gesture at his hand, then up at his bangs. "You kept talking about dyeing your hair, and how long it took to do your nails. I knew if I had magic, then I could do it for you!"

And that's exactly what she was doing: she couldn't have even thought about being human again until she knew that she could use magic to cure him of what was essentially a mild inconvenience. He could only stare at her, speechless, at how a big part of her wanting to be a fairy involved him.

She was amazing. The best possible friend he could've asked for. Human or fairy, she was just as magical.

"Done!" she declared as she finished the nails on his other hand, standing up to look it over one more time. "And it'll be our little secret!"

She didn't even want credit for it, another shock to his system.

"Thanks," he managed, finding his voice again. He admired his nails and bangs one last time, reminding himself to look in a mirror later to see the latter in full. "It's so cool. Really cool."

Her smile would put the sun to shame; him being happy never failed to make her happy too, which only heightened the effect this was having on him.

It occurred to him then that, if magic being real meant that fairytales might still be real too, he didn't have to worry anymore. Marinette was a fairy, not a princess, so the rules he'd imagined didn't apply to them, and she'd made it clear that he was important to her.

He might not've been a prince, but he felt like a king.

[doublejango]

I am already seeing virtue signaling posts from people saying "I don't care what you believe or how you voted..."

That's great. I care. I care a lot. The outcome of this election effects me, but so much more than me. I care. It matters. And if it really doesn't matter to you? Good for you. If you are privileged enough, safe enough, and entitled enough to truly not care about how the election will impact other people... I can't even imagine what that must be like. Nice, I guess?

I spent most of last night and this morning crying.

I'm done with tears now, and have moved on to rage.

And you know what? I promise not to let it burn out. Because smiles and positivity may work for many of us, and I'm not going to lose mine either, I promise not to lose my queer joy--they can rip it from my cold dead hands, not to get too damn dramatic here--but I'm also not in the mood to start forgiving and smiling and welcoming Nazis into the bar.

So. I will hold onto anger. I've been tolerant and accepting long enough in life... and have learned something important about what causes the worst harm.

I have been gay bashed before. Violently. Blood. Broken bones. Lost teeth. And you know what the worst part of the recovery of all of that was, the part that did the most psychological and emotional damage? It wasn't the actual bashing itself. It wasn't even the memory of exactly what it felt like to have something swung full force into my face with extremely violent intent. It was the denial from my "friends" and family afterwards. The people who wanted to deny that it was a hate crime. The people who wanted me to shrug it off and not be upset about it. The people who loved to say oh well it wasn't that bad. You know what helped? Letting myself feel fury. Letting myself name the attack as hate. "It wasn't that bad," though, they said, asif it was their judgment to make--endless hours of dental procedures, pain, wounds that never fully healed, the trauma, the lost work, the new experience of vomiting blood with broken jaws and knocked out teeth. Because it wasn't that bad. And there was so much self-reproach, because I could have avoided it. I wasn't the intended target. He was swinging for a lesbian with me. When the attacker burst out of hiding he was swinging for the side of her head, her temple. I jumped in between them. Didn't think. It was an impulse. Protect the people you care about. So I took it to the face. And I grabbed him. I threw him, and fell doing it. I remember being on my knees in the mud. Seeing my teeth in the mud. Seeing my blood just. Everywhere. And knowing I needed to push back to my feet immediately because it might not be over.

We were lucky. It was over. He hadn't expected anyone to fight back. He ran.

But the people who claimed to love me didn't want to deal with the idea that it was a hate crime. They wanted it to be random and meaningless. That made their world a little safer, I guess. And their denial made my world colder. And my recovery lonelier. Harder. They put me down for "bringing it on myself." As if it would have been more virtuous to let this woman take that attack to her temple, as if I would have been more valid for standing by and watching it happen.

There are so many more stories I can tell you, but the lesson is almost invariably the same: the ugliest hurt is often the one caused by the people who just turn away when you identify what happened to you. The hurts that cut the deepest and last the longest often come from the people we thought we could trust, because they want you to just get over it, don't talk about it, admit it could have been worse, don't call it That.

The betrayal from people who are supposed to have your back? That deepens wounds, deepens trauma.

I won't be that person. I won't tell you to smile and turn the other cheek when someone shows you they hate you. Do whatever you need to do to survive--physically, emotionally, psychologically. Just don't give up, and don't let the cowards force you into feeling shame for not giving up and letting the world break you.

Never be ashamed to refuse to break.

Never let someone shame you for choosing strength. For drawing your line in the sand.

I wanted the "exciting" times of my life to be behind me. But they're not--so be it. I'm not going to tone myself down to be safer. I don't care about my own safety anymore. Any self-preservation drive broke a long time ago when it comes to homophobia. I promise to always be ready to fight. To be a queer menace to "polite" society. I promise to be out and loud and gay, to be a shield however I can for those who can't be out, who can't fight back, who can't even speak up because it wouldn't be safe for them to do so. They are valid, too. And I love them. And I will have their fucking backs. I promise to, in my real off-the-internet life, be someone who will always jump in and speak up if I see queer people being harassed or shamed--especially if they're young. I am older. I will fight for my baby gays. I will love them.

And I will never, never put anyone down for refusing to welcome Nazis into the bar. We don't look the other way and quietly tolerate them. Not here.

I may not be around much for the next few days. I need to handle my own shit. My own fury. My own grief. Because right now, there is so much grief.

But I won't be going anywhere.

I will fight to stay.

Whatever it takes.

I'm not giving up.

If I end up on my knees in the mud again, staring at my own blood and teeth, metaphorically or in fucking reality, so be it. I will get back up. And I will keep getting back up. I won't let go of the anger. The spite. And I definitely won't let go of my love for every queer person, the ones I know and the ones I don't, because that love is what will give me strength to get through this. Whatever comes next.

I may not have much sense of self-preservation. But goddamn, I will fight for you.

[onakomiyaki]

Max is way too excited when he return to his motorhome, body still sticky with champangne, RedBull, rains and sweats. His race suit is tied nicely around his waist and his fire proof (that turn kinda seer from how wet he is) hugs his body perfectly.

Max had left everybody out, including Jos and Kelly and her family. He excuse himself and said that he need to call his mother and Victoria, which of course they can't argue with. Jos raised his eyebrow at him, but not questioning him, instead he was nodding his head and return his convo with Helmut Marko. And Kelly? Well, Kelly is Kelly. She insisted to join the call but Max said its his and his family time and that Kelly should go celebrate his win with her family. If Kelly was hurt by that comment, she doesn't show it. She just smile and return to Redbull crew and celebrating like he told her to do.

Upon arriving at his motorhome, Max start shedding his race suit, leaving him in his boxer short and his fireproof. He held his phone with his left hand as he sank down to the sofa. Max spread his arm as he rest his head on it, facing the ceiling of the motorhome as he enjoy the silence hugging him comfortably.

He close his eyes, finally letting his mask down and cried softly.

He won. In Brazil. From P17.

Max knew that if his father saw him sobbing like a kid he would scold him. Its not champion-like of him to show any vulnerable emotion. But he can't help it. Because he is not strong, not as strong as people think. He, infact, got very sensitive heart.

There is a whirr from the exhaust fan of the motorhome and some static noises from the mini fridge. The motorhome is not 100 percent sound proof, so he can still faintly hear the bustling commotion outside. Probably Alpine duo getting swarmed by the media, and Max is glad that he run away after finishing his media duty.

Max sigh a little as he change his position. He is now leaning down, elbows sat on his thigh as he open his phone. He removed all the media notification, swiping it left and right.

RedBull Racing Team post, swipe.

Team Redline post, swipe.

ESPN, swipe.

F1 Official, swipe.

Daniel Ricciardo, swi-

Max's thumb stopped, frozen in place as he saw Daniel's name. He sucked in some air that decided to left his lungs and clicked the message icon.

Daniel Ricciardo 5.52 p.m

Congratulations, Maxy! Amazing drive mate.

🥂

He hesitantly move his thumb to the calling button, letting his thumb hover on top of it. Max bite his lower lip before finally pressing it. He turn on the loudspeaker mode as he wait for the calls to connect.

He never knew that waiting a call to be connected can feel like eternity.

And when the call finally connect, Max eyes widen at the sight of time finally counting up.

"Hello? Daniel?"

"Hiya, Maxy. Congratulations mate! I didn't watch the race but I saw the post and immediately went and saw the reply. You're such a beast!"

"Ah, thank you, Daniel. It was a hard race. We fought well against McLaren and Ferrari today."

"No no no, YOU fought well against McLaren and Ferrari. And Alpine as well, shocker!"

Max let out a laugh as the person on the other end laughing at his own word. Indeed one thing Max wasn't expected is his fight with Esteban in Alpine. RB20 against A524 sounds like a good joke.

"We're fighting against Alpine now." Max whisper.

"Kinda tragic isn't it?"

"Yeah it does."

Daniel doesn't say anything and Max also went silent. Max can hear the rain out side, the water hitting his motorhome roof. The rain picking up again, he thought. Max also can hear the faint bustling background noises from Daniel's side. He knew Daniel went to watch Bills game, and from what he heard, Bills won the game as well.

"I wish you were here to celebrate with me, Daniel." He broke the silence.

Daniel doesn't answer, but Max can hear his soft chuckles. Max like to imagine that Daniel's chest would vibrate when he let out a chuckle like that. Max would love to feel that vibration on his palm. Max would love to feel Daniel close to him, a lot.

"Me too, Maxy."

"I miss you a lot, Daniel. I miss you. I miss us. I don't want this without you. Come back, please."

Max let out a choked sobs as he break down once again, holding his phone with two hands now as tears streaming down his face. Max closed his eyes as his shoulder tremble. All hell break loose.

"I'm tired of doing this alone.. I want to be with you, in America. Watching Bills, riding dirt bikes, go to parties. I want that. With you."

Max cried out, sobbing violently as the emotions finally caught up to him. The fact that he had to fight alone on the front with Alpine and his teammate is struggling with their sister team had taken a toll on him. This is so unfair for him. He deserve more than this. He deserve Daniel as his teammate.

"I'm tired Daniel.."

Daniel inhale sharply, sniffling a little. Max can hear the background noises slowly disappear. Daniel probably moved somewhere more privatelym

"I know baby, must be tiring. I tell you what, you can go to my farm on the break. We can enjoy some barbeque and talk about it, yeah?"

"Yeah?"

"Of course Maxy. For you."

Max nod his head, not aware that Daniel can't see anything. But he did it anyway.

"I would love to visit your farm, Daniel."

"Of course you do, you always want to visit my farm."

Max let out a chuckle at his comment. He can imagine Daniel's cheesy smile when he said that and that make Max happy. Much happier than few minutes ago. There is another silence between them when Max don't know what to talk again on the phone. He never like phone calls, he prefer talking in person because somehow the topics flowing in naturally when he talk in person. Or maybe because it is Daniel on the other side.

"Well, its settled. You and me, in my farm. Enjoying sunset and beers, riding dirtbikes around. Its a date then."

"You're an idiot."

"Oh but you love it, Maxy."

Max feel something flipped inside his stomach when Daniel change his tone. He can feel his body temperature rising and he close his thighs together involuntary.

"Well then Maxy, I will leave you to celebrate your win while I'm celebrating here."

"Okay Daniel. And thank you for the congratulation message."

"Anytime sweetcheeks. See you around."

The call ends and Max had to compose himself for a second. His phone vibrate, indicating a new message on his phone. He open his phone open and see another message from Daniel.

Daniel Ricciardo 6.24 p.m

You're not alone, Maxy. I will be here for you.

🦋💙

Max smile at the message.

I'm not alone after all.

[crooked-wasteland]

I've always seen Helluva boss as a show that try so hard to be something isn't, and after reading your articles about BoJack horseman and how hb directly borrowed some of its ideas . It's started to make sense so here's my take:

Helluva boss can't be BoJack or anti-BoJack , there is room for inspiration sure . But the difference between two shows make it odd whenever someone try to compare them. Since BoJack is story of American man who happened to have a horse head, therefore the protagonist is forced to obey the morality rules that we as audience have . Helluva boss is story of demons live in society that only value violence , the rules of morality is broken in this world so where it makes sense for the show to calls out BoJack's toxic dating patterns, why should i care for blitzø's that man cannonly makes fun of children deaths of cours he's not a good partner. Another thing that BH like other many adults cartoon is critical of American culture (Hollywood culture for BoJack case) and while HB trying to do the same it only water down its world , you can point out to something relatable to our society without loosing the fantasy elements in your world especially if your otherworldly character travel to the human world constantly and see it from stranger point of view, but hb didn't do that it just turned the hell to american , and maybe this is thing bugs only me as non-western . It would be more entertaining if we explore the hellish society as something new and fresh.

(out of topic sorry)

But even if we want BoJack-like show the writer clearly don't know why BoJack works but I don't need to tell you since you already wrote about that, I remember watching a clip of livestream where medrano admit she blind-love her favourite media without critical thinking and I think this is her biggest weakness, she's the kind of person who would see something cool in TV so she applies it to her OCs without a further thinking which explains the directe reference of others show like BH

These are excellent points. There's a saying in writing that goes "Write what you know". The team who wrote Bojack knew the ins and outs of that Hollywood bubble due to professional experiences. And because Bojack was written by a diverse team of creative people, they even addressed how eating meat would work in a universe with sentient animals. They had the experience and knowledge of setting as well as basic life experience to ask obvious questions in the name of world building.

It's why I argue that Medrano appears to be someone with very few life experiences. Not only does her story lack emotional depth, having a shallow well to draw from, but basic rules of world building are neglected in a way that is very obvious due to a lack of human curiosity.

Writing what you know isn't supposed to be limiting. Instead it's supposed to challenge you to ask more questions. Expand what you know to incorporate it into your imagination.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Caine and Pomni having a movie night, with them accidentally choosing a horror movie to watch. Pomni doesn’t really mind and isn’t affected, but for DAYS Caine is bothered and doesn’t want to be alone without Pomni ever. Causing him to constantly sleep in her room, accompany her on adventures, etc. Pomni then has to teach him the beautiful art of the movie not being real, but because he is a visual learner she also has to show him that it’s not real by pointing out how each affect is done.

PRACTICAL EFFECTS

A HALLOWEEN SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: movie blood and gore

~~~

Caine could barely see through his clenched teeth as he sat shaking next to Pomni. He and Pomni were relaxing with a spooky movie marathon. Just them, a bowl of popcorn, and eight hours of back to back seasonal features. However, one of the TV movies was a bit more gory than Caine could handle.

Pomni was having a great time, eating handfuls of popcorn as the killer on screen violently swung a massive chainsaw. She chuckled at the campy acting and blatantly fake special effects, not noticing Caine was ready to bolt.

When the killer dug his chainsaw into the gut of the underdressed hot girl character, Caine screamed. Pomni jumped for the first time all night, spilling the popcorn. Pomni paused the movie. "Caine?? What the heck!?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN- WE JUST WATCHED SOMEONE DIE, POMNI!!" Caine plucked his eyes from his mouth and rubbed them against his coat. "MY EYES WILL NEVER BE CLEAN AGAIN!!"

Pomni blinked, confused. "Caine... It's a movie. I'm not crazy about horror, but these movies are so bad they're actually pretty funny."

"FUNNY? FUNNY????? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" Caine slammed his eyes back in his mouth so hard, he nearly choked. "I never realized I was dating a psychopath!"

"Woah, woah, woah, Caine, breathe. Calm down a little." She took a few deep breaths, encouraging him to breathe with her. "It's a movie. Fake. Everything that's happening on screen, isn't actually happening."

"...come again?" Caine arched his top jaw, looking from Pomni to the screen. "I know movies have actors and such, but you're telling me that that man is not actually digging a chainsaw into that woman's stomach? But- but- it's so real! I can't even look at it without getting squeamish!"

"Have you ever heard of movie magic? Practical and special visual effects? All of that blood on screen is nothing more than red dye and corn syrup. I mean, some hardcore movies use animal blood, but it's mostly colored corn syrup. That torso getting cut up? Fake. A prop. That chainsaw? Doesn't actually have blades on it except in close-ups."

Caine still couldn't bring himself to look fully at the screen. "I don't like it..."

Pomni put a comforting hand on Caine's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. We can skip this one if it's too bloody. I prefer atmospheric and psychological scares, myself."

Caine snapped, vanishing the spilled popcorn and refilling the bowl. "Thanks, Pomni."

"Of course, Caine. This is supposed to be fun." Pomni scoots closer, until their thighs touch. "Just imagine all those actors covered in sticky syrup. Must have taken them ages to wash it out."

"Heh, yeah..."

"Caine, out of curiosity, what did you think was happening?"

"Oh...uh, seems silly now but... I thought actors were really going through everything on screen. Because they're mass-produced like boy bands."

"....say what?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. We'll talk later." Pomni changed to a different movie and settled her head on Caine's shoulder.

[glisten-inthedark]

STanon, a couple more thoughts about Mike’s speech

“I knew in that moment, I loved you.” referring to the moment he found her in the woods

let’s imagine for a moment he’s doing what Will did with him, where Will poured out his feelings for Mike and pretended Eleven said it; instead, Mike is pouring out his heart to Will, but trying to say it to Eleven—let’s imagine this, and then recontextualize the sentence:

“I knew in that moment, when I felt such overwhelming confusion and fear and disappointment when I saw it wasn’t you, Will, I loved you.”

I could see it being a moment where, in hindsight for Mike, that’s a memory that helped him realize his feelings for Will have always been different

it’s also interesting Mike chose a memory (and the Duffers specifically harkened back on that memory with a flashback) where El couldn’t reciprocate. El, in that moment, was cold and wet and frightened and traumatized. she didn’t feel love for any of them in that moment and Mike couldn’t have felt any love for her, because they were complete and utter strangers.

the Duffers, who have gone on record to say they don’t believe in love at first sight, & the writers chose a moment where Mike and El were complete strangers, a moment neither of them chose, a moment that was happenstance, a moment where El was confused and scared and Mike was actively searching for Will, as the moment Mike claims he knew he loved El. knew, when he didn’t even know she was a girl, when he didn’t know her name, her voice, her personality, anything about her. that is not love.

and the Duffers obviously know this. any of the other writers would’ve gone, “hey guys how do we zhuzh this up so that there’s more depth and personalized moments, like how Max has her happy memory of the Snow Ball that takes place after a full season of getting to know Lucas?” and they’d have to talk about why the speech is so shallow and vague and Mike doesn’t mention any specifics beyond the first night they met and keeps emphasizing her being powerful and a superhero.

goodness gracious how anyone can watch this speech and not raise an eyebrow is beyond me, even back when I shipped M*leven I didn’t like the speech and didn’t feel Mike was being sincere and didn’t feel like the speech had any depth to it

This is such an interesting perspective on that whole dialogue.

We all know they don't believe in love at first sight, but you can tell that even the show tells you that.

Nancy didn't fall in love with Jonathan the first moment she saw him, the same can be said about Lucas and Max, or even Nancy and Steve if we think about it.

And that's exactly it! Mike can't say anything of substance to El, surely nothing heartfelt or meaningful, the closest he got was talking about her big shirt.

I've been meaning to ask you something too so I'll take this post as my way of doing so: what are you thoughts on the "I feel like my life started the day we found you in the woods"?

[s4pphic-sh3nan1gans]

How would Bojan and Kris share songwriting ideas together? For example, at home on the couch in a homely atmosphere with Kris grumbling sometimes at some lines that Bojan suggests to tease him, or maybe in the studio? How do you imagine it? 💌

aaaaaa this is a very cool ask! 🫶

I'm actually gonna start by drawing my inspiration from something recent that we know happened, which is about the upcoming song "ako toga više neće biti." Kris said that when Bojan first pitched the song he wasn't too sure about it and didn't really understand what it was about, and it's only when the song was finished that he started to fall in love with it. we don't fully know what the song is about yet (and I'll definitely come back to this idea when the song is released and we've heard it as a whole) but broadly speaking, it seems like this is definitely one way the songwriting process can go between the two of them. in fact, it kinda parallels an earlier moment when Kris wrote "ngvot" and Bojan also dismissed it at first, several times if I'm remembering correctly 👀 I'd like to think that the fact they're not afraid to criticise each other a little shows how comfortable and familiar they are with each other, and I don't doubt for a second that for both of them, it stems from their deep affection 🥰

but now, the fanfic writer in me (or maybe I should say the little devil on my shoulder that likes to whisper in my ear 😭) is saying "what if Bojan was writing a song about Kris?". he'd have to make sure it's not glaringly obvious, which is where I can see what you suggested coming into play, with Bojan struggling to filter himself a little and instead speaking his mind in terms of lyric ideas and watching as Kris either blushes or looks at him all mock-scandalised. but really, I think both of them would have a pretty hard time trying to come up with appropriate lyrics 🤭

as for if they were in the studio with the others, I can imagine them both shooting ideas at each other as they'd get into the creative headspace. maybe they'd bicker a little, but they long ago learnt how to keep things civil so there's no repeat of any "creative differences." actually, I'd like to believe that over the years, their heated discussions over song lyrics and musical arrangements have somewhat become part of their flirting in disguise, and they think they're being subtle about it when in reality the others are sharing exasperated looks with each other...

those are my main ideas! I can't wait until the album is released and they hopefully start talking more about the creative process for the songs on the album so we can perhaps pick up even more bokris crumbs 👀

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer eyed the man. For someone so tall, he looked terrified. Curling in on himself, like a scared animal.

Maybe Lucifer could play with him for a little while. He wouldn't be able to do much of what he would like with these guards standing bear by, but he can work with it.

Lucifer flashed the man a smile, showing his sharp teeth. It took a lot of willpower not to laugh as the man tensed.

Lucifer never thought he'd love bringing fear to someone, let alone an angel. But this was hilarious. He can't wait to tell Lilith.

Lucifer: Good afternoon, everyone.

No one said anything. But 'A' gave him a small wave. Adorable.

Lucifer: Still not talking? That's fine.

The guards were directly behind 'A', their stance unmoving. Lucifer could feel their hatred for him.

Guard 1: Numbers.

Lucifer: No. I want A to ask me. That is why he's here, correct?

Guard 2: You do not make demands here, Devil. You are instructed to give him the numbers. Nothing more.

Lucifer: Is it really all that bad for me to want respect in my own home~?

Guard 1: You do not deserve respect. Now, give A the-

Lucifer: Abel. That's who are, yes?

Lucifer smiled at how uncomfortable the man looked. Infact, he looked like he was crying.

Lucifer: Thought so. I couldn't imagine being the spawn of that bastard, Adam. I'm sure your murder was a sweet release, hm?

Oh yes. Now he was crying. One of the guards came up and shielded him from Lucifer's sight. Angels never were good at comfort.

Guard 2: Numbers. Now. Or you will be dealing with Sera.

Lucifer watched the man shake and beg to leave. Of course it's Abel. They really thought they could hide the pathetic second son of those animals from him? Lucifer wasn't stupid. He can easily sniff out a runt pretending to be a lion.

Lucifer: 3,500. That's how many souls we have. Roughly~.

He smiled as the guards glared at him.

Guard 1: Then that will be all.

In a flash, the three angels disappeared.

Lucifer felt very proud of himself. Now, to tell Lilith. Now that he knows it's Abel, he's looking forward to the next one hundred years.

I'm coming up with some aus for you, but I need some meeting shenanigans.

I would love to know what bullshit Adam and Lucifer got up to during meetings.

Slowly healing their relationship, one meeting at a time 👀

Well I think the very first one they wouldn't even be alone together because of what happened. I think Adam would just silently glare at him.

Over time when Adam was feeling more confident to face the devil he'd go alone but by hologram, Sera's idea.

Making snide remarks, snappy comments, and being sassy.

And Lucifer would come back with his own and they would end up in banter for a while other than why they are really there.

As more time passes it's less hateful and more playful, maybe even takes on a flirty edge.

And I always see Lucifer being the one to make the first move after what happened in Eden. Adam has so many insecurities he wouldn't think that Lucifer would want him as more than maybe a friend.

Hit me with them bud 👀

[docmerlin]

sk8 fandom complaining abt adam existing in promotional art for the new stuff is like if one piece fans got mad every time we found out the next season has luffy in it

[crownedwille]

.

[quadrantadvisor]

Sometimes I still think about The Owl House Gang all trying to watch ATLA together but then Zuko's backstory in The Storm retraumatizes Hunter so bad they have to stop