#you get to see my brain explode intensely

[fairyyybread]

Mmm the obsession is real (This is just gonna be me obsessing over the framing of everything- It's gonna be a lot to read. Sorry not sorry).

Even if they don't fully realize it I am obsessed with the composition of the scenes. In the first scene we are panned into Grian's room from a distance, but since we're starting in the room with warm lighting looking at him asleep, it gives a sense of a peaceful morning. It's such a simple thing but it conveys the story in the way it needs to be shown. We aren't viewing from the outside where Jimmy would be standing, we aren't looking in through his window, we aren't peering through a doorway of any sorts. We are simply seeing Mr. Princess man resting early in the morning. It's the perfect amount of distance and lighting to convey the right mood, before it's quickly disrupted by Jimmy knocking at the door. Moving on, the scene where we DO get to see Grian from outside the window. When he sits down in the chair and we see the black substance crawl up outside. The placement of this scene is so AAA! The framing is perfect for the buildup of suspense. We had a lighthearted moment of everyone having their costumes showed off with Grian finally sitting to rest. If this frame was shown any sooner or later it would've given a different vibe. Idk how to describe it. It's just perfectly placed. It helps switch into the more serious issue later on in the chapter. It's eerie, it's concerning. It makes you go, "What's gonna happen to Grian? Why is there a black substance crawling up to him?" And that's EXACTLY the goal I think this frame is trying to have. It's the build-up to quickly switch to the main plot of this arc.

Scar in the light hallway as he hears a noise, asking someone to come with him to check. We don't know what's in there, we're following Scar with as much confusion and worry as he does. Peering into the room to see Elle on the floor. The only light is from the outside of that hallway, giving the perfect amount of shock as the characters panic and try to make Elle wake up. Like a kid scared of the dark, peering into their bedroom and asking their parent to check under the bed for a monster. Despite Scar being positioned in his wheelchair, we're still looking down at them in the dark at the end of page 11, the shadows giving a sense of serious dramatics. Everything is serious now. There is no light anymore. The hues of the last few pages are all dark. People are passing out, there's confusion and panic and fear. Scar pulls the fire alarm in a tilted panel. It's such a simple thing to do but SO effective. Everything quickly delved into chaos. People NEEDED to get out of the school. Students running away in panic. By this point, the only light we see in the comic for the rest of the part is Tango's hair. Everything is dark, eerie, worrying. Despite how much Tango is anxious about his appearance, he's also the only true light that can help guide them out of the building while holding Ren and Bdubs. Ren's distressed yet soft expression as he's passed out on Scar is also just really well drawn. The final page where we see Scar call Cub, where the lighting of Tango's hair adds that dramatic flare to the scene that elevates the anxiousness they are clearly feeling and we are feeling alongside them. How the final text bubble is simply "Cub, we have a problem." It's a good cliffhanger and a good way to make suspense. Maybe I'm just reading far too into things but god I LOVEEE analyzing the scenes in this comic so much and getting to deep dive into the way the characters are characterized through writing too. This is a lot but it's not even all of what I have in my mind.

MOTHER SPORE

Part I

I know it's almost new year but I don't care, it's Halloween again people (this part was supposed to be posed in October but things happen)

Once again thank you @xmaruu11 not only for being the co-writer of the comic but also for doing the flat colors

[alastorss]

brother i still have no idea how tumblr works and this is my first request and it might not even be in the right place but—

why does NO ONE talk about the fact that “Allie” would be such a silly nickname for Alastor? i would love to see some headcanons/a lil story about how he would react to the reader calling him that. maybe completely detests it at first but secretly likes it?

a/n: hello lovely, you've come to the right place 🫶 yes yes yes!!! i'm obsessed with this idea <3 i'm adding to this: he would think you're mad at him when you finally call him normally again ^ ^

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

"What did you say?"

"Huh?" You hum, attention devoted to fixing Alastor's bowtie.

"That thing you just said. Repeat it."

You finally blink at him, using your palms to smooth out the front of his jacket before stepping out of his bubble. "I said your tie was undone."

"No, dear, before that."

The Radio Demon can feel his eye twitching in irritation. You look at him again dumbly, trying to retrace your steps.

"Oh!" You flash him a little smile and he thinks his brain is going to explode. "Allie?"

He just gawks at you, surprised by the sheer audacity you have. And it doesn't help that he's so fond of you that he doesn't even want to strike you down.

Had it been someone else calling him so endearingly, he might have done something violent. But how could he do that to you, his darling companion, when you look so sweet calling him such a ridiculous name?

"My apologies but... where did that come from?"

"Isn't it cute?" You grin, completely dodging his question.

No, he wants to say. Absolutely not. However, your smile is ever-growing and he can't very well deny you this pleasure. So he sucks it up, draws in a deep inhale to compose himself, and nods.

"Of course, cher."

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Weeks pass and the rest of your friends in the hotel begin to raise a brow at how casually you address such a powerful Overlord. And more than that, he doesn't seem to want to correct you.

It becomes his name reserved exclusively for you. Angel had tried, once, to purr out Allie in a seductive way that made Alastor's skin crawl. Never again.

He gets used to it. Even likes the idea that there is something shared between you that no one else can have. That is, until you're pushing around your breakfast on a plate one morning.

"Can you pass the salt, Alastor?"

He looks up from his mug of coffee in confusion, brain taking a moment to buffer before it catches up with his already moving mouth.

"Alastor?" He repeats his own name, staring at you intensely and most definitely not passing the salt over the table.

You look back up at him blankly. "That's your name, don't wear it out."

He scoffs at your lame joke before sliding the salt shaker over the table. There's something unsettling him and he can't quite place it.

Setting down his newspaper, he watches you as you eat. His gaze is so fiery that you look up from your food almost instantly.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?"

Your brows scrunch. "No, why?"

"Why did you not call me Allie?"

Complete and utter silence settles over the dining table until he feels like he can't breathe. Your spoonful of food hovers just in front of your open mouth as you stare.

Then, laughter. Laughter fills the room and his ears so heartily that he feels it in his own chest. You double over the table in your fit, spoon clinking onto the plate as you drop it.

"What?" He grumbles.

"Of course I'm not mad at you!" You howl, using a finger to wipe up the tears gathering in your eyes. "'Sides, I thought you hated that name?"

His jaw grows taut. "Hate is a powerful word."

"So you like it?"

"Absolutely not!"

"Liar, you do!"

Alastor is never one to get flustered, but here he is for the first time in his afterlife, teetering on the edge of bursting out in flames. "You are terrible, you know that?"

You snicker, leg getting trapped between his under the table. "Yeah, Allie, I know."

Yet the way his smile softens says it all.

~

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc (send an ask to be added!)

[fawnrowe]

cw .ᐟ anal, toys (strap on), abby refers to her strap as her cock, not proofread

something so humiliating about being forced to be face-down-ass-up with no means of running away when things get too much to bear. all you could do was dig your claws into the silk bedsheets below you and bite down on your molars as abby, positioned behind you, slowly pushed her cock inside.

her coos, her low chuckles, the sounds of her enjoying taking your ass plunged into your brain. you clawed the bedsheets further, even fearing of ripping them apart as the intrusion made you see white stars in your vision, animalistic growls of bearing the foreign feeling involuntarily exploded from deep in your chest.

“thaaat’s a good girl,” abby praised from behind you, clearly enjoying the view from up there. “ooh, you’re taking my cock so fucking well, princess. i’m already so deep inside you — can you feel it?”

the ability to form words was stolen from you, but you managed to somehow emit growling noises that could have been the sentence, “too much, too big.”

abby clicked her tongue mockingly. “not too big, baby. you can take it. in fact, i’m allll the way in. to the fucking hilt,”

but abby wasn’t too evil — she let you take a moment to gather your senses and adjust to her size. your grunting and growling eventually subsided into small whimpers as abby took her time with gently thrusting into your ass.

“fucking— hot,” abby grunted as she worked her thrusts into you, gripping your hips and keeping you stationary as she used her hole. “taking such a big cock in your ass, yeah? think you can cum for me, princess?”

your pussy clenched and pulsated around nothing, the constant in-and-out motion of abby’s strap in your ass made you so unbearably wet despite the initial pain. it was truly astounding how quick you warmed up to this seemingly taboo. abby’s words and enjoyment of fucking your ass made you dizzy, eyes glazed over as your tiny whimpers and loud moans filled the air and mixed with the slapping of skin on skin.

and at the end of it, you did end up cumming for abby — eyes rolling back and entire body seizing as the shockwave of intensity rocked every inch of your nerves.

the feeling of abby gently tapping your hips as she leaned over you to talk in your ear made you flinch. “wasn’t so bad, huh, baby?”

[deadrobinthoughts]

♡. Mobile post. Hcs & a small scenario for Damian and his "Pastel, yapper gf". Enjoy, anon.

The Ultimate Grumpy/Sunshine Dynamic™ – If anyone ever needed a perfect example of opposites attract, it’s you and Damian. He’s broody, reserved, and always looks mildly irritated, while you’re a walking bundle of pastels, excitement, and nonstop chatter.

He Pretends He Doesn’t Listen, But He Memorizes Everything – You could be talking a mile a minute about something completely random, and Damian will look like he’s ignoring you… but then two weeks later, he’ll casually bring up that one obscure fact you mentioned about some show or hobby you like, just to prove that he was paying attention. (And yes, it makes your heart explode every time.)

Hand-Holding as a Muzzle Tactic – If you’re talking too much in public (and it’s overwhelming him), he will silently grab your hand and squeeze it, his way of telling you: "Enough, beloved. My brain is melting." (It works about 30% of the time.)

Acts Bothered by Your Energy, But Thrives Off It – If you weren’t around, Damian would absolutely go back to brooding in a corner, drowning in his own sharp thoughts. But with you? His world is louder, brighter, and somehow softer all at once. Even if he doesn’t always respond to your rambles, the sound of your voice makes him feel at peace.

Death Glares Anyone Who Tries to Shut You Up – You can talk his ear off all you want, but the second someone else tells you to be quiet? Damian is more than ready to say something. (Only he is allowed to get mildly annoyed by your endless chatter. Everyone else must deal with it. Perks of being in love.)

Calls You “Beloved” Unironically – He says it so effortlessly, so casually, that you almost forget how incredibly romantic and old-fashioned it is. But hearing that deep, serious voice say: "Beloved, focus." or "Calm yourself, beloved." always makes you melt. He'll say it without even realizing.

The “Secretly Soft for You” Phenomenon – Damian isn’t affectionate in public, but when you’re alone? He’s all over you. He’ll have you curled up in his lap, arms wrapped around you like you’re his personal stress relief, all while he pretends you’re the one being clingy (even though he literally hasn’t let go of you in two hours).

Has No Patience for Social Events, But Goes Just to Make You Happy – You drag him to pastel-themed cafés, bookstores, art exhibits, and other bright, aesthetic places. Damian hates being surrounded by crowds and noise, but he’ll suffer through it just to see you happy. (And if anyone so much as brushes against you? He’s throwing a glare so intense it could set them on fire.)

Deadpan Humor That Pairs Too Well With Your Chatter – You: “Dami, what if frogs had tiny little raincoats? Can you imagine—” Damian, completely monotone: “Why must you plague me with these thoughts.” (But later that night, he actually sketches a tiny frog in a raincoat for you.)

Steals Your Pastel Hoodies Because They Smell Like You – He will never admit it, but if you ever leave a soft, oversized hoodie lying around, it somehow ends up on Damian while he reads or works on something. (If you bring it up? He just says, “It was the closest article of clothing.”)

His Love Language is Acts of Service & Physical Touch – Damian isn’t great with words, so his love is shown through actions—making sure you eat, walking on the dangerous side of the road, pulling you onto his lap after a long day without a single word, etc.

He’s the Calm to Your Chaos (And Vice Versa) – If you trip over your own feet because you’re too excited about something, Damian is already catching you effortlessly without even looking up from his book.

You’re the Only Person Who Can Get Him to “Smile” in Public – It’s subtle, just the slightest softening of his normally sharp features, but everyone notices it. (It’s why people are always shocked he actually has a soul.)

“How Did I End Up With You?” Energy – Sometimes, Damian just stares at you when you’re talking (or singing off-key, or dancing around the living room) like he’s genuinely confused about how someone like him got stuck with someone like you. Of course, not "stuck" in a bad manner.

Knows Exactly When to Let You Talk and When to Pull You Into Silence – He’s never rude about it, but when your energy turns from excited rambling to nervous over-explaining, Damian will cut you off mid-sentence by gently cupping your face and saying: “Enough. You are alright.” (And just like that, the world feels a little less overwhelming.)

You Make Him Soft & He Has No Idea How to Deal With It – Sometimes, when you’re asleep, Damian just traces his fingers over your cheek, like he’s trying to figure out how he let himself fall this hard.

Refuses to Call You By Your Full Name – He never calls you by your full name because why would he? You’re his beloved, and only that title matters.

If You Get Sick, He Goes Full Caretaker Mode Trying to Fix It – "Who made you ill? Who do I have to kill?" "Dami, it’s just a cold—" "Unacceptable."

Secretly Thinks Your Energy Is “Refreshing” – He’ll never say it out loud, but being with you is like breathing fresh air for the first time in his life. You bring color, life, and laughter into his otherwise sharp, guarded world.

If You Cry, He Panics (Internally) – Damian isn’t great with comforting words, but he’ll pull you into a firm hug, pressing soft, fleeting kisses to the top of your head, whispering, "You do not have to face anything alone, my love."

Your Chatter Helps Him Sleep – Damian is so used to nightmares that it’s hard for him to fall asleep… unless you’re talking. Your soft voice, your presence, your warmth—it makes everything quiet in his mind for once.

He’ll Never Say It, But He Loves Being Around You 24/7 – If you ever stop talking abruptly, Damian looks up instantly, as if searching for you.

If He Ever Loses You, He Will Burn the World to Find You Again – Period. A reasonable response.

He Doesn’t Do PDA—Except for You. In public, he’s gruff but still keeps a hand on your waist or fingers intertwined. In private? He will curl into you like a cat who refuses to let go.

You Make Him Believe in Love, Even When He Never Thought He Could Have It – At the end of the day, Damian never expected to have someone like you—but now that he does? He’ll protect it with his life.

—

The morning sun filtered softly through the sheer curtains, casting a warm golden glow over the bedroom. It was one of those rare, quiet mornings, where Gotham’s usual chaos had yet to intrude, and Damian, for once, was still in bed.

You, on the other hand? Fully awake, wrapped in the coziest pastel sweater imaginable, and absolutely buzzing with thoughts.

"Okay, Dami, listen," you started, propped up on your elbows, looking down at him where he lay, face buried in the pillow, refusing to function yet. "What if—no, hear me out—what if cats had tiny little backpacks? Like, for their little cat belongings? Where would they even go?? Like, imagine Alfred with his own tiny bag! Wouldn’t that be adorable? What do you think he’d keep in it?"

Silence.

You paused, then gently poked his cheek.

Still nothing.

Finally, after a long, suffering sigh, Damian shifted just enough to glance up at you, narrowed green eyes sharp despite his grogginess.

"Beloved." His voice was low, hoarse from sleep, but dripping with deadpan exhaustion.

You beamed, undeterred. "Yes, my love?"

His gaze dragged over you, taking in your bright, bouncy energy compared to his own half-conscious, definitely-not-awake self.

Then, finally—

"Why must you do this to me first thing in the morning?"

You gasped dramatically, hand pressed to your heart. "Excuse me, sir, but I am merely blessing you with my intellectual wonders!"

Damian exhaled sharply—not quite a sigh, not quite amusement, but something in between. He shifted onto his side, grabbing your wrist, pulling you down against him in one swift, seamless motion.

You let out a small squeak as you landed chest to chest with him, your face inches from his, suddenly trapped under the warm weight of his arm resting lazily across your waist.

“…Dami?”

He hummed, already burying his face into the crook of your neck, voice muffled against your skin. "If I hold you here, will you stop talking?"

You snorted. "Absolutely not."

His lips ghosted against your shoulder, and though he was too stubborn to admit it, you could feel the small, amused smirk hidden against your skin.

"Then at least let me suffer in peace, beloved."

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him, fingers tangling lazily in his sleep-mussed hair.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke.

For all of Damian’s complaints, for all of his grumpy little comments, he still held you close, his grip never loosening, his presence warm and completely unwilling to let go.

Yeah. He could pretend all he wanted. But you knew the truth.

Your endless chatter was his favorite sound in the world.

(And later that day, when you found a tiny handmade cat backpack on your desk with a note in Damian’s sharp handwriting that simply read: "For Alfred."… You swore you saw a ghost of a smirk as he walked past you, pretending he had nothing to do with it.)

[rose24207]

Interrupted Stream

Summary: Lando is streaming and the chat seems to like his girlfriend more than him.

TW: None!

Genre: fluff, humor

A/N: English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando was in the middle of an intense game, his eyes glued to the screen. His chat was alive with their usual chaotic energy, commenting on everything from his questionable aim to his random screams whenever he got ambushed.

“Alright, chat,” he muttered, leaning closer to his mic. “This is it. Big brain plays only. I’m clutching this—wait, WHAT?!”

A sniper shot from across the map ended his game, and he threw his hands up in disbelief. “That’s so unfair! How did he even see me?”

The chat erupted with laughter:

“Lan, you’re blind.”

“Bro, he was RIGHT THERE.”

“Classic Lando meltdown.”

He sighed dramatically, leaning back in his chair. “Chat, you’re supposed to be on my side. You’re supposed to support me. Where’s the loyalty?”

As he rambled on, the door to his office opened, and you walked in holding a mug. “Lando, do you—oh. Are you live?”

He spun around in his chair, a grin spreading across his face. “I am, indeed, live. And now so are you.”

You froze for a second, glancing at the camera. “Oh no,” you said, setting the mug on his desk. “This is why I avoid this room when you’re streaming.”

The chat immediately exploded:

“Y/N REVEAL!”

“WE’VE BEEN BLESSED!”

“OH SHE’S HERE!”

Lando leaned back, hands clasped behind his head. “Chat, look who decided to join us. Everyone say hi to my very lovely girlfriend.”

“Hi, chat,” you said reluctantly, waving. Then you turned to Lando with a suspicious look. “Wait. Why do you look so smug? What did I walk into?”

“I was just showing chat how amazing I am at this game,” he said innocently, gesturing at the screen.

You raised an eyebrow. “Amazing? Didn’t I just hear you screaming about getting sniped?”

The chat went wild again:

“SHE KNOWS!”

“Y/N CALLS HIM OUT!”

“WE LOVE HER ALREADY.”

Lando groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Why are you always on their side?”

“Because they’re right,” you teased, sitting on the arm of his chair. “Let me guess. You ran straight into the open without looking, didn’t you?”

“Excuse me,” he said, pointing at you. “I’m a tactical genius. They just got lucky.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, babe. Tactical genius. That’s why you once threw a grenade at your own teammate.”

The chat was losing it:

“EXPOSED.”

“LAN, SHE’S TOO GOOD.”

“PLEASE LET HER STREAM INSTEAD.”

Lando groaned, covering his face. “This is cyberbullying. From my own girlfriend.”

“Call it tough love,” you said, smirking. “Besides, you’re the one who left your socks on the kitchen counter this morning, so you deserve it.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Lando exclaimed, his cheeks turning red as he glanced at the camera.

“Everything,” you said, standing up. “Alright, I’ll leave you and chat to... whatever this is. Try not to embarrass yourself too much, yeah?”

Lando turned to the camera with a dramatic pout. “Chat, she’s so mean to me. Don’t you feel bad for me?”

The responses were immediate:

“NOPE.”

“WE STAN Y/N.”

“JUST ACCEPT YOUR FATE, LAN.”

Before you could leave, Lando grabbed your hand. “Wait, wait! Before you go, answer one thing.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “What?”

He turned back to the chat with a grin. “Alright, chat, here’s the question: Who’s better at Mario Kart—me or Y/N?”

You snorted. “Oh, that’s not even a question. I destroy you every time.”

The chat erupted again:

“Y/N SUPREMACY.”

“GET HER ON STREAM!”

“LAN IS FINISHED.”

Lando shook his head, laughing. “Unbelievable. I’m outnumbered in my own stream. You’re supposed to be on my team!”

“I am,” you said with a smile. “But only when you’re actually good at something.”

The mock gasp Lando let out was so over-the-top that you couldn’t help but laugh. You kissed the top of his head. “Good luck, babe. Don’t lose again.”

As you walked out, Lando turned back to the camera, shaking his head. “Chat, this is my life. Constantly roasted, no support, but hey... I think I kinda like it.”

The chat spammed hearts and laughing emojis as Lando launched into his next game, grinning from ear to ear.

Thank your for reading!

[childrenofcain-if]

That one scenario where C and MC have a kid has my heart completely 😭 Can we get a follow up for that? How are things going on in the joint household? I'm also very curious to see what C would name their kid 🤭

the hershey’s kisses glinted in the late afternoon sun, crinkled foil catching the golden light that streamed in through the window. aster sat cross-legged on the sofa, a small island of contentment in the messy sprawl of school bags and discarded socks she’d left in her wake.

she was humming under her breath as she unwrapped another piece of chocolate, oblivious to the way her shoes lay in two opposite corners of the room and how her lunchbox sat precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table.

you leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and watching her with the detached amusement of a parent who knows they’ll have to clean up the mess but hasn’t yet summoned the energy to do so.

C was in the armchair, one foot propped on the edge of the ottoman, clicking through their macbook with half an eye on aster. it was domesticity in its sweetest form, the kind you don’t think about when you’re young and idealistic, imagining love and family like perfect polaroids on a wall.

“did you give her those?” C asked suddenly, their voice louder than the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen.

you blinked and set your coffee down, moving closer to inspect the crumpled foil wrappers littered around aster.

“nope,” you said after a beat. “not exactly either of our flavor. that’s… what is that, cherry? we don’t have those in the house.”

C arched a brow, and without missing a beat, turned their full attention to your daughter.

“aster,” they said, voice soft but with a worried edge, “where did you get the chocolates?”

aster’s head snapped up, her chalcedony green eyes lighting up with excitement.

“felix gave them to me!” she said, her grin wide enough to show the little gap where her front tooth had fallen out last week.

C froze, their hand tightening slightly on the edge of their macbook. you, on the other hand, were far more amused.

“felix, huh?” you said, crouching slightly to meet aster’s eye level. “and who’s felix again?”

her grin grew impossibly wider as she happily declared: “my boyfriend!”

you chuckled, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “oh, really? you have a boyfriend now, kleine ster? when did this happen?”

“this morning actually!” aster exclaimed, bouncing a little on the cushions. “he gave me the chocolates at recess and said he liked me, and i said i liked him too, and now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend!”

C’s eye twitched, a muscle jumping just beneath the surface. they sat up straighter, their attention now fully honed on your seven-year-old’s revelation.

“did he now?” they said, their voice tight. “and what else did this... felix boy say?”

aster frowned, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “uh… he said i could have the last red crayon in art class.”

“generous of him,” they muttered darkly, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“C,” you said warningly, but they ignored you, leaning forward with the intense focus of someone about to conduct an interrogation.

“and does this felix… hold your hand?” they asked, their tone too casual to be actually genuine.

“sometimes,” aster admitted, her brows knitting together.

C’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “does he share his lunch with you?”

“yeah, today he gave me his oreos!”

C’s jaw twitched. you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“C,” you said again, a little louder this time. “let it go, darling. they’re just kids.”

but they were too far gone now, leaning forward as though proximity might grant them any sort of control over the situation.

“aster,” they said with all the solemnity of someone at a funeral, “you can’t have a boyfriend. you’re too young. your brain isn’t fully developed. you’ll... you’ll explode! you’ll leave your parents all alone then and it’ll make us very sad.”

aster blinked at them, unwrapping another hershey’s kiss with deliberate slowness.

“i will explode?” she asked, clearly confused by this turn of events.

you rolled your eyes. “no, you wo—”

“yes, you will,” C insisted, cutting you off. “and anyway, you’re not allowed to date anyone until you’re like 30 and paying taxes. it’s a rule.”

“that’s not a rule,” aster said with the stubborn certainty of someone who knew she was right. she really was her parents’ daughter. “and felix is a good boy.”

“‘good,’” C muttered under their breath, glaring at the imaginary felix as though he was lurking in the shadows, waiting to hand their precious little star another chocolate. “i’m going to fight this seven-year-old.”

“C!” you snapped, stepping between them and placing a hand on C’s shoulder. “calm down, my love. it’s harmless.”

C leaned back reluctantly, their gaze flicking between you and aster, who was now watching them like they’d sprouted a second head.

“fine,” they grumbled, crossing their arms over their chest.

***

after dinner, aster sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined a tiny instruction manual for building LEGOs with the intensity of someone decoding the human genome. her fingers, small but deft, picked up pieces and slotted them into place, her movements sure and deliberate.

C sat beside her, their long legs folded awkwardly beneath them, one hand bracing their bad knee. their fingers worked slower than hers, more hesitantly. the gap between them—her bright enthusiasm, their cautious quiet—was almost laughable. but C didn’t laugh.

they watched her instead.

aster had inherited their stubbornness, the precision of their thoughts, the way they spoke with certainty even when they were wrong, the hard-headed refusal to back down in the face of a challenge. but she’d also inherited your warmth, your easy charisma, the way people seemed to orbit around you like you were some kind of gravitational force.

she was both of you, but neither of you. something wholly her own. and she shone so brilliantly.

“non,” aster said suddenly, shaking her head. she spoke in a tone that was equal parts exasperated and amused, the way one might speak to a child who couldn’t quite grasp a simple concept. “that piece goes here. look.” she leaned over, plucking a flat blue brick from the pile and snapping it into place on the half-constructed spaceship.

“ah,” C said, their lips quirking into a faint smile. “of course, petite étoile. how foolish of me.”

she beamed proudly, her confidence growing with each small victory.

“it’s okay. you’re still learning,” she said magnanimously, patting their arm. honestly, it amused C greatly to see her reflect you back when you both argued everyday like your life depended on it.

C snorted, shaking their head. “merci, mademoiselle.”

“pas de problème,” she replied breezily, her accent and pronunciation impeccably like a parisian native.

C felt a pang of pride so sharp it was almost painful. french had been one of their gifts to her, a piece of their heritage they had handed down like an heirloom. and she had taken to it effortlessly, as if it had always been hers.

she slipped between languages with a grace that left C in awe, her young mind absorbing everything like a sponge.

“wat is dit?” she asked suddenly, holding up a strange piece they hadn’t encountered yet.

“hmm,” you said from where you were sprawled on the couch, your legs stretched out and a book resting on your chest. you barely looked up as you answered her in dutch, explaining what the piece was and where it might fit.

aster nodded thoughtfully, her small fingers turning the piece over as she considered its possibilities. C watched her, their heart swelling with a mixture of love and disbelief.

how could someone so small hold so much brilliance? how could she be so much more than they had ever dared to imagine for themself?

“do you think felix likes LEGOs?” aster asked suddenly, breaking their reverie. she was staring at them now, her eyes—C’s eyes, pale green and perceptive—narrowed in thought.

C felt their jaw tighten at the mention of the boy, the ghost of their earlier irritation flickering to life.

“i have no idea,” they said evenly, focusing on the spaceship.

aster tilted her head, clearly unconvinced by their tone.

“he’s nice,” she said firmly, as though this simple fact should erase all of C’s doubts.

“i’m sure he is,” C said, their tone carefully neutral.

you glanced up from your book, smirking slightly as you watched the exchange. let it go, your eyes seemed to say.

but it wasn’t that simple.

it wasn’t about this felix boy, not really. it was about aster, about the inexorable passage of time, about the impossibility of holding on to something as fragile and fleeting as childhood. she was growing up, and there was nothing C could do to stop it.

C reached for another LEGO brick, their fingers brushing against aster’s. she looked up at them, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“tu vas bien?” she asked, her voice soft and earnest.

the question caught them off guard. for a moment, they didn’t know how to respond. how could they explain the tangled mess of emotions that had been simmering inside them all day? how could they tell her that the thought of her growing up terrified them in a way they couldn’t quite articulate?

“i’m fine, petite étoile,” they said eventually, forcing a smile. “just tired.”

she seemed to accept this, turning her attention back to the spaceship. but C couldn’t help noticing the small furrow in her brow, the way her hands moved more slowly now, as if she was trying to puzzle something out.

they watched her in silence, their heart aching with a strange, bittersweet kind of love.

***

later, when the spaceship was complete and aster had been tucked into bed, C found themself sitting on the edge of your shared bed, their head in their hands.

“okay,” you said, sitting beside them. “do you want to talk about what exactly is bothering you, my love?”

they sighed, looking up at you now.

“it’s just… strange,” they said, their voice low and tired. “she’s growing up so fast. too fast. i feel like i blinked, and suddenly she’s not my little girl anymore.”

you stayed quiet, letting them find the words.

“i still remember holding her in my arms for the first time,” they continued, their voice thick with emotion. “i remember her first steps, her first word, the first time she looked at me and called out for me. and now… now she’s talking about boyfriends and whatnot.”

they let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through their hair. “i didn’t have this. a proper childhood. a father who cared. i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. i just… i look at her, and i love her so much it terrifies me. so much so that i still don’t understand how my father could—”

“hey,” you interrupted gently, placing a hand on their arm. “you’re nothing like him. you’re such a wonderful parent, C. she loves you so much. you can see it every time she looks at you. and yeah, it’s hard watching her grow up. but that’s the deal. you love them, and you let them go, little by little, so they can become who they’re meant to be.”

C nodded slowly, their eyes softening as they looked at you. “i know you’re right.”

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to their temple. “of course i’m right, i always am.”

they rolled their eyes, but a small, tired smile tugged at the corners of their mouth.

“do you think…” they hesitated, the tips of their ears turning adorably red. “do you think we should have another one?”

“another what?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

they scowled, burying their face in your neck.

“you know what i mean,” they mumbled, their voice muffled. “don’t make me say it out loud.”

you laughed, stroking their hair. “we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

but you already knew the answer.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[emptyjunior]

It looks like with the movies taking off, everyone is on the Dune train now!! Which is very exciting, I’m glad a bunch of new people are discovering this media and reading the books, but can I recommend you the David Lynch, Dune (1984) movie.

First of all, if you are invested in the lore of the books and the deeper messaging of the story, you’re going to need to turn that part of your brain Off. If you love kick ass shit and are willing to be slightly tipsy while you watch and have a great goddamn afternoon, this is the flick for you.

Now first fun fact I’m going to share with you. David Lynch (twin peaks, eraserhead director, celebrated surrealist) turned down the opportunity to direct Return of the Jedi for this film. A film that was devastatingly slow to make, changed hands multiple times, had a pricy VFX budget of $40 million and then made barely $31 million, David Lynch turned down Star Wars to work on it. And he did this when he had never read the novel, and did not even like or engage with sci fi media. THAT’S how you know we’re really in for something.

Now this film has some big names in it! We’ve got a young Kyle MacLachlan who is rocking some Devastating outfits:

We’ve got Sir Patrick Stewert as our Gurney and Sting, lead singer of the police, playing the 15 year old Feyd Rautha! If you wanted to see a grown man, sprayed orange, basically naked playing a free wheeling maniac you are in for a treat! And another fun fact, David Lynch also did not know who these actors were, he made a mistake and thought Patrick Stewert was someone else and when Sting said he was in the police he assumed he was in an organization of lawmen.

Now these characters are familiar to you, but let me get into the unfamiliar. Lynch made some directorial executive decisions throughout this film, for I suppose the ease of the viewer? I mean an adaptation is supposed to adapt so he went let me change some stuff up👏👏👏.

Those who paid attention to Jessica’s backstory may know about the Weirding Way. This is a martial arts style created by the Bene Gesserit, and practiced by Paul. It is more than just a fighting style but also an important philosophical concept, like Aikido or how Kung Fu has foundations in Buddhism.

You may also be familiar with the quote “My name is a killing word.” This inner monologue of Paul’s refers to how his title Muad’dub will be used to spur a holy war. A simple name is what people will die and bleed for, it will be what they scream as they cut down enemies.

Dark! Intense! That’s Dune, anyways in the novel it’s easy to take your time exploring these concepts. Introducing the audience to the religious ramifications of a simple name and fighting practice and how these things can have rippling repercussions upon a society like the Freman.

Now David Lynch didn’t have time for that! He had the belief (that may be right🤷‍♂️!) That watching a bunch of people kick each other on top of a sand dune would be Lame😭😭

So he made the choice for his film that “My name is a killing word” was to be taken Absolutely Literally and invented a device where if the freman said the name Muad-dib, shit would explode.

If they said Paul’s name, they could Explode Stuff. Let it sink in how rad that is. Hell yeah man, hell yeah. Imagine me interpreting religious text that way, imagine if I made a bible movie and the moral I took from a parable is that when Jesus asked for food and everyone donated fish, I concluded that Jesus was a mutant who had fish powers and could immediately conjure fish with magic and gave him fish death rays that shot out of his hands.

So that’s what you can expect from this interpretation, the weirding way now means everyone has Lasers its rad as hell.

Some other incredible choices made! This is a spoiler, but in the novels and the new films you can see the Freman collecting every scrap of water they can. Dr Liet-Kynes, the planetologist, reveals to us it’s because they have a long, multiple generation spanding plan to fix the planet. By introducing this water back they hope to reset the ecosystem over centuries of work. The reason they have been unable to do this is because a green planet would obviously not have worms and sand who produce spice, the most coveted drug in the empire, so imperial and harkonnen forces have been stopping this from ever happening. They want to be free from oppression so that they can start to work on slowly fixing their world, a project that plays out in Paul’s adult life and has its own dramas and complexities.

In Dune 1984??? The moment, the Moment Paul lays out his cousin and throws the final punch, it begins to rain in Arrakis. As if they were all under a magical curse and were just waiting for a teenager to come fight another teenager and then the water will come back. It’s so good, it’s so funny.

Also Pugs! House Atreides official Pugs! Paul has pugs in his lap!!

This is honestly an adaptation choice that I really really like! Paul is the result of centuries of selective breeding, this practice is an artform to the Bene Gesserit and a skill that they monitor closely. It produces bizarre and sometimes terrifying results and is the reason for Paul’s existence.

I think having an animal that was also created through selective breeding, was engineered from a wolf into an animal that can hardly breathe is an incredible metaphor! A smart and identifiable symbol for the audience, I think it’s a slam dunk and the new movies should have done it to.

Anyways can not recommend this film enough.

-The body suits the bad guys wear are made out of real body bags, that actually had been used.

-David Lynch to this day hates it.

-The original cut was four hours.

-The cast and crew were sick the Entire shoot with something they called Montezuma's Revenge, which was probably just food poisoning, side effects from the constant smog because they shot the whole thing on backup generators, illness from the cockroach infestation and terrible morale.

-Frank Herbert saw it multiple times and said he absolutely loved it.

-When they ride the worms, sick rock jams play.

If you love electric guitar, lasers, worms and will forgive me for not including all the trigger warnings cause Yes this film will gross you out, then go watch this movie.

[solxamber]

On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

[sluttyangy]

Hey there, I hope you’re having a beautiful day/night! I’m not sure how many requests you have at the moment; if you’ve got too many please feel free to ignore this! Before getting into the request I just want to say I absolutely adore your blog theme and writing! ❤️ As for the request, I too am a bit of a Shidou whore >~< so I was wondering if you’d feel comfortable with maybe writing something about his turn-ons? It doesn’t have to be anything explicit if you don’t want it to be — maybe just some things his s/o does that would be attractive/stimulating to him? Of course you could also include other characters if you’d like! Again, if you aren’t interested or if you’re too busy then please feel free to ignore ❤️ thanks in advance either way! You’re doing great! ❤️🙌🏻

⟢ Synopsis : Shidou’s turn-ons ! ♡ (sfw and nsfw)

⟢ Notes : Hiii anon !! tysm for your request, I’m very glad to know that my theme and writing is liked ! ♡ I hope you are doing very good ! My requests are indeed open and even very welcomed <3 There will be a sfw part, and a nsfw part, so if you aren’t into nsfw stuff, feel free to ignore this part ! Thank you so much to everyone for the support, and I hope i can continue to bring y’all the delulu we all need ♡

⟢ Sfw :

Shidou is absolutely in love with everything about you. But, there's still some little things that make him go wild. He loves whenever you just call for his name, even calling around the house, calling in the changing rooms at the stadium. It brings him so much satisfaction to hear his name from your pretty mouth, and sometimes will even act like he didn't hear you, just so you would repeat that heavenly word to his ears.

Ryusei also has a thing for your hair, whether it be long or short. He just loves to run his hands through it, and he can never help but imagine himself tugging and pulling it.

Shidou is absolutely in love with your waist, he always needs to be touching it, holding it, squeezing it underneath his fingers. It turns him on to imagine just how much positions he could put you in just by holding your waist.

Finally, the horny demon feels his heart explode whenever you walk around the house wearing his clothes. It makes him feel like you totally belong to him, that there's a piece of him on you, showing that you are his. Same for outside, he could die on place when he sees you wearing his jersey, out in town or to his matches. Being really possessive, that allows him to show to everyone that this pretty girl is his girlfriend.

⟢ Nsfw :

During the more sensual and intimate moments, Shidou has a lot more turn-ons. Basically everything about you turn him on, from your body to the look in your eyes, to the way you lick your lips.

But once again, some things turned him on more than the others. Shidou's favorite thing is seeing you totally fucked out, totally cockdrunk. That man goes on for many rounds, more than your pretty little brain can handle. This leads you to only being able to think about the man holding you, only feeling his touch and the intense stimulation he gives you. Ryusei could cum just by watching the dazed look in your eyes, the drool dripping down your chin.

He loves your shudders, the way your body react to his relentless assault. He loves when he feels your goosebumps under his fingertips when he bites and suck at your skin. He proudly wears the scratches on his back, on his waist, and on his arms. Ryusei adores that you just try to have the most physical contact possible with him, and he gladly gives in.

Shidou also has more simple things that turn him on sexually, like those little booty shorts that shows the underside of your ass, or those tank tops that'll reveal your cleavage. He will always grope at it, touch it in some ways. Want to send him to heaven ? Wear those and stuff his cock between your breasts, giving him that innocent doe eyes.

[adventuringblind]

Make Me Yours

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: chaotic smut (I'm a slut for this man)

Summary: Daniel mentions something to Oscar and he takes a shot in the dark.

Warnings: KNIFE PLAY, blood, intensive aftercare, Max and Daniel being big brothers, Oscar is a dork and we love him for it, enemies to lovers if you squint, soft dom Oscar, Reader is a mess for Oscar and he loves it.

Notes: This was an anonymous request! I hope you like it!! Please remember to communicate and take care of yourselves if you engage in a kink like this!! Reader is a Redbull rookie which I know is ridiculous but it's fiction.

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

She wouldn't say her sex life is vanilla. Definitely the opposite, actually. Most people would look at Oscar and assume he is the most boring human on the planet.

They are all wrong.

Most the drivers, including herself, teased him about how he knows two positions maximum. He'd gotten fed up with it and showed her exactly why everyone is wrong.

Turns out pent up tension from being rivals from F3 and F2 leads to these situations. The situation being mind-blowing sex with the one guy who you didn't want to admit feelings for.

Formula 1 is an unforgiving world. She didn't need feelings getting in the way. Until Oscar came along and ruined it all.

Until that night, at least. Now they are stuck together like glue. It drives Max and Daniel insane with how much he's around the Redbul garage.

She tried to use the 'best friends' excuse until Daniel caught them in her driver's room.

"It's always the rookies."

That being said, her problem isn't the sex, or Oscar, or her relationship at all. The problem is how to bring up something she would like to try.

Both of them like trying new things and have been very clear on boundaries and keep open communication about the subject. He's never judged her for anything she's brought up. So why can't she just ask him?

"Something on your mind?" Daniel appears from thin air, and she slams her phone down out of view. She prays he didn't see the pictures of the silver blades and thinks she a psycho.

"Nope," she squeaks. A terrible recovery on her end.

"Watching porn? Looking at Mr. Piartri's nudes? Come one, you can tell me!"

Max pokes his head out from around the corner. "Are we talking about sex?" Here she thought the secluded space would be far away enough for them to come bother her. Then again, Daniel could help her out. He's good at talking to people.

"Pretty sure you and Charles talked about it last night." She quips without looking at him.

She's blushing and embarrassed. Her brain is yelling at her to run as far away as possible before she does something stupid-

"Hey Daniel, you know about sex stuff right?" Wow, that doesn't sound awkward at all.

"Yes?" He quirks his eyebrow at her. "But if you're looking for a threesome I'm going to have to decline. For now, at least," he winks.

She chokes at the notion. She's going to explode at this rate. Time to bail out. "Never mind, it's not that, but it's dumb."

Max appears fully in her line of sight. "You can't leave us hanging now! Oscar not performing well anymore?" His expression suddenly goes dark. "Or if he hurt you, I won't hesitate to send him into the barriers."

"No! no, it's not him it's me. I don't know how to ask him about something."

Both the males soften. It eases the anxiety a tiny bit, but she'd still rather not be here.

"Hmm, can I ask what it is?"

"A kink," she whispers away from him.

Daniel hears it anyway. "Yours or his?"

"Mine."

Daniel, now seeing he's not going to get anywhere like this, tries a new approach. "Look, this is a no judgment zone, right? Max talks about Charles and their sex life any chance he gets. I am an open book. No laughing or cringing, okay?"

It still feels weird having this conversation. But Daniel isn't going to let it sit now. Curse her impulsive mouth. "Knives. I want him to use a knife on me."

~~~~~

Oscar is sitting in wait around the Redbull motorhome. His girlfriend had said she'd meet him out here and he hasn't seen her all day, so he came early.

Media days are usually difficult for her. The journalists manage to find some new sexist thing to point out every race weekend. It drives all the drivers insane. They can't just let it go and move on to something new.

"Hiya mate!" Daniel appears around the corner and Oscar manages (just barely) to not jump out of his skin. "You waiting for your girl?"

"Yeah, I'm early though. Do I need to go?"

"Nah, you're fine." Daniel throws him a grin. "I'm curious how you keep the marks on her hidden. Been wondering for a while now."

Oscar blinks. His brain is trying to process the last Statement. "You mean... like a hickey?"

"No! The scars." Daniel looks like he's just said the most obvious thing. Oscar is still trying to remain neutral in what is definitely an odd conversation.

Scars? What scars is he talking about? "I-"

"Don't tell me you don't see it! That girl totally has some kind of knife kink."

Knife kink?! Where is this coming from? He tries to think back to any hint of it on her end. It's not like he's opposed to trying new things and he wouldn't be shocked if she felt weird about bringing it up.

"I'd ask her about it mate." Daniel winks and disappears into the crowd of people.

Oscar tries not to think too hard on it. It's just a weird comment made by Daniel in passing.

At least, that's what it started as.

Oscar then finds himself doing research on it. A deep rabbit hole that now occupies far too much space in his brain.

The idea of her permanently some kind of mark he puts there drives him wild. Which is odd, because it hasn't before. A visible hickey every now and then does the trick. Satisfies him when they go out places.

After the first 'I don't see your boyfriend,' he started putting one on her collar bone. Not visible unless she deems it so amd fresh enough to ward off any suspicious characters.

Curse Daniel for giving him this stupid idea. Something more permanent than a hickey sounds appealing.

If it were up to him, he'd keep her in his pocket. It's funny, really, how she thought he didn't know about her feelings. Oscar had played the game for two years. Then he couldn't take it anymore and he snapped.

Yes, she's snarky and moody, and as picky as Lando, until you get past the hard exterior and see she's all soft and squishy. Most of the time, anyway.

He asks her about it after Silverstone. He's coming down off his high and drunk on the adrenaline paired with a shot of success. The confidence boost is really what he needs to put the idea out there. As outrageous as it seems, Daniel might have a point.

"I was thinking about something." He starts off with. She flops onto her bed. Not his since Lando manages to get into his room at the worst times.

"Something good I hope?"

"Depends." Oscar adjusts their position so he can cradle her. The way she snuggles into him like an affectionate cat makes him melt. "It's kinky."

"The best kind of thoughts to have!" She taps his nose with her index finger to accentuate each word.

Oscar steels himself for the possible outcomes. "What if we tried knives."

There is an unmatched look of pure shock on her face. Oscar is prepared to reassure that she doesn't have to, until he notices the glint.

"Yes! I mean - yeah, we should give it a try."

Huh, so Daniel was right. Oscar will have to thank him later for the tip. "We need to talk about it first. I'm thinking either talk now and do it or we save it for a later date."

"How about we talk now, then see?"

"Sounds lovely."

~~~~~

The more Oscar talks, the more she wants it. It's ridiculous what he does to her with merely his voice. Or maybe it's the constant regard for her wants, needs, and safety.

Yeah, it's true what they say: consent really is sexy.

"Love? Did you hear what I was saying?" His voice has they soft mellowness about it that calms the raging see of her emotions.

"No..."

"Stay with me, yeah? I'll put this off if you aren't coherent enough to truly consent to anything." Yep, sexy. No doubt about it.

"I'm here, promise! Just got distracting... thinking."

"About?"

She waits a beat to see if he's willing g to drop it. He makes no indication he'll be moving on, however, making her forced to answer. "Your voice..."

She is going to combust at this rate. It's embarrassing how wrecked she is already. Oscar hasn't even touched her, but the sight of him with the glinting silver blade in his hands has her going feral. The crazy eyed, drooling kind that makes her seem like she should be locked up.

The fact Oscar spent over two hours in discussion and has research to back up every point her makes drivers her wild. She would happily spend the rest of her life with him even after a measly two years together.

He's ruined her. Oscar has made it so she will never be able to leave. So what if she's dramatic? Can you really blame her when she has Oscar Piastri standing in front of her looking ready to devour her?

Oscar takes his time. It's slow and gentle kisses, nimble fingers finding their way around the canvas he knows so well. "Fucking hell you're gorgeous."

She takes a mental note of the way she's in no clothes and he's got all his own. It's unfair and she tugs at his sleeve to signal she wants it off. Oscar complies and pulls the fabric off.

He goes back to licking his way around the inside of her mouth. Her hands relax around his body, taking comfort in the warmth and closeness of the skin-on-skin contact.

His fingers slip through her folds and like muscle memory locate her clit. It's pathetic the sounds he's getting her to make. Specifically, while holding the pocketknife, unopened, in his free hand.

"So pretty for me love. I would cut you up and put you in my pocket if I could. Carry your cute ass around with me like a good luck charm."

She's so far down the rabbit hole of her favorite headspace. Oscar's words are just swimming around her, until the sound of the black clicking open pulls her back into reality.

He presses the flat part of the blade against her arm. The cold of the metal sends a shiver running down her spine.

Oscar is looking deep in the eyes, mapping out every emotion and physical reaction she's having to the sensation. "Color?"

"Green, very green, the brightest of greens-" Oscar shuts her up with a kiss to her temple. It's gentle and meaningful. Enough to turn her right into a blushing mess.

Oscar checks in frequently every time the blade moves. The masochist is jumping for joy when the tip barely rests against her shoulder blade. "Are you ready? Want me to mark you? Shall I make you bleed for me?"

"Please," She whines.

"Keep your eyes on me yeah? You say red and I stop."

She signals that she understands and would like to continue. Oscar traces the line he wants to make.

She hisses when the knife presses downwards. Oscar panics, but he watches her eyes roll back and knows to continue. "Eyes on me, love. I want to see how pretty you look."

The cold stinging sensation makes her whimper in pain and moan in ecstasy all at the same time. He's still talking to her. Voice still calm and gentle. He's watching her intently, tracking every shift until he's done.

He keeps a hand on her to let her know he's still present as he tucks the, now closed knife, safely onto the bedside table. Despite looking so composed to everyone else, she notices the small thing about Oscar's shift in demeanor. Like how his pupils are staring at her, just the slightest bit tinged with the desire tor take her in the next ten seconds.

He resists and makes sure she is ready for that first. "Color?"

She slurs through an ungodly number of praises and words resembling 'green'. Oscar basks in it. He sits and caresses her skin as he watches the cut to make sure he really did go light enough.

Small beads of red appear at the surface, but not enough that he's concerned with first aid at the Moment. He breathes a sigh of relief.

"Osc? Are you still green?"

Oscar softens again. "Yeah, I'm green, just taking in the sight and - happy I didn't stab you." He's breathless and panting. His jeans straining and her hands aching to get her hands on him.

There is so much love and kindness leading up to him finally getting inside of her. The towel underneath her shoulder catches the run-off red. It falls away with every thrust of his hips and rock of her body.

They hit the edge to quickly. Falling over it in white hot pleasure and moans of joy.

"You're such a good girl for me. You did such a good job." Oscar whispers in her ear as he wipes the cut with disinfectant.

Oscar carries her blissed out body to the bathroom and lets her look at the wound before bandaging it. A perfect heart now rests on the peak of her shoulder. Not massive, but enough to be seen without looking to close.

"I love it."

"Yeah? You ready to bandage it?"

"Do we have to?"

She doesn't get her way. Oscar bandages the heart and gets them cleaned up. Then it's water and snacks in bed.

"I never thought you'd be into it."

"I wasn't until Daniel brought it up."

Her entire being stills. Maybe even goes pale and Oscar looks at her in confused worry.

"I might have asked him for advice on how to ask you... about this."

Once again, his face softens. "You know you never have to be afraid of asking me." A gentle smile appears on his face. "I do think we'll have to thank him for this later."

"You're just going to inflate his ego."

"Maybe it's worth it if he keeps giving me advice." Oscar winks at her and smirks.

Yeah, maybe Daniel's pestering isn't to bad.

~~~~~

Oscar stands waiting for the drivers parade the next race weekend with all the other drivers. He's waiting patiently for his favorite rookie to come and join him.

Instead, he is once again jumping out of his skin because Danile is grabbing his shoulders from out of nowhere. "Could you not, like, scare me? Please?"

"But this is more fun! Certainly not as much fun as you had, I'm sure. I saw the scar." Daniel wiggles his eyebrows.

Oscar is blushing, he can feel it in his face. The words he wants to say are not coming out like he intends. "yep, I - um... thanks."

"Let me know if you need any other advice." Daniel smirks and claps him on the shoulder, Leaving Oscar a mess.

This is why I get teased; he thinks.

[imagionationstation]

I have an idea: what would have happened if Donnie got mind controlled instead of Raph in that one scene in Clash Of The Mutanimals?

“That one scene”

See, my first thought was to do an analysis but then I realized that an analysis on a scene that I could very easily rewrite to answer what is very clearly a prompt (and I will accept it as nothing else) would be less fun. And, I mean, you can’t start in the middle of the story.

You gotta flip back a few pages to get the better picture.

So you get two scenes!!

When Donnie wakes up, his thoughts are sluggish.

Everything blends into one another, hazing his world as he brings a hand to his face. He smashes it against skin, trying to wake up his brain. He’s on his knees. He’s on his knees in a- he opens his eyes, giving the room a lost look- a red room?

“…Where… Am I?” He rubs again, frustrated by the lack of compliance, trying to remember how he got here or why there’s a little fluttering sound from somewhere behind him-

Something thuds, quietly. He drops his hand, looking towards it.

His eyes widen. Shredder puts on his helmet.

“Your new home, mutant.” 

Nope, nope, nope, nope to that-

Donnie scrambles to his feet, turning around-

Tiger Claw is there, blade held up to his plastron.

Donnie’s bo finds its way to his hands, knocking it away as he steps back. It’s a long range weapon, awful in close quarters- but now he’s closer to Shredder.

His eyes immediately go up to scan the room, looking for another exit plan-

“Drop the staff.”

Donnie does. Then he panics, going for it-

“Leave it.”

His muscles lock up. He wants to reach for it but he doesn’t. He can’t move. He can’t get so much of a twitch out of his fingers, hand beginning to shake from the strain. He can’t reach it he can’t pick it up why can’t he reach it-

He can’t reach it and Shredder’s behind him- he’sbehindhim- and goosebumps smear down his skin with his presence- it’s not working- so Donnie aborts.

Donnie abandons his staff and goes for the kunai in his belt, spinning around and going for the neck- 

“Stop.”

Donnie stops. He stops the whole motion, dropping any pretense of continuing so he can step back and gasp, “What did you do to me?”

Shredder looks at Stockman, “None of the others had these results.”

“No.” Stockman agrees. Donnie’s head hurts, a dizzying kind of pain as tries to remember how he got here. Who are these others? Where are his brothers? What happened to his brothers? “We had the psychic within the second command.”

Psychic?! April?!

Shredder looks at him. The intense feeling of vulnerability returns under his stare and his eyes dart to the door across the room.

“Come to me.”

Oh no-

Donnie does, pain blossoming with every step that he fights. So he stops fighting, legs stopping him right in front of the horror of many nightmares, and he whispers, “What did you do to me?”

“I changed your alliance.” He responds cooly. “Your loyalties belong to me now.” 

His heart pulsates. Pinprick eyes narrow. “No.”

“Yes.” He leans closer. “Bow to me.”

His muscles lock again, only this time, it’s his intention. He refuses to get down, refuses to bow before another master- no matter how hot the fire in his brain is, no matter how much it hurts- he won’t make him he can’t make him he’s stronger than-

“Bow.” Shredder booms as his voice darkens. “Now.”

The fire explodes, raining down on everything. He wants to scream.

Silently, swiftly, he falls to his knees, head bowed low.

“Good.” Shredder says. “Look at me.” 

He looks up, eyes a soulless white. 

“Grab your weapon.” Shredder releases the blades of his gauntlet as he stands. “And attack me.”

Leo is all too relieved to find Donnie alive.

When Leatherhead breaks through the gate, his younger brother has positioned himself on one of the statues. He isn’t bothered by the crash, continuing to fire one of Tiger Claw’s weapons at Shredder. Admist them, he throws down a smoke bomb.

It lands under his feet, exploding and sending him into his back.

Donnie pounces with Raph and Mikey’s overjoyed cries, “Woah, Donnie!” “Go Dee!” but Leo notices how he lands on the armor, how a gauntlet blade slices against his ankle and he doesn’t even react.

He’s never seen him that- focused before.

That doesn’t matter now, because Donnie has the gun pointed at the flesh of his face and he’s not firing, “Donnie! Do it! End this!”

Donnie doesn’t move or even react to his voice, and their brothers look to Leo as their leader scans for any other threats, anything that might be holding him back.

Raph bursts, “What is he waiting for?!”

Donnie turns, and he steps off, setting the ray in Shredder’s outstretched hand when he rises.

Shredder laughs.

Leo can’t take his eyes off his little brother. 

“Donatello is mine now to control.”

The gate slams shut behind them. Leo’s heart pounds.

“As are your other mutant friends.” 

The mutanimals come out of their respective places behind the statues. Raph’s worried voice calls, “Slash!” 

Slash looks at Raph and he raises his mace. Leo reaches out a hand to the side, a means of comfort and a warning to stay still, as Tiger Claw preens, “No escape for you, reptiles.”

Shredder holds out the weapon to his second-in-command. Donnie pulls out his staff, unsheathing the blade. 

“Donnie?” Mikey asks, a tremor in his voice.

Donnie doesn’t acknowledge it, moving beside Shredder.

“Now.” Shredder announces. “Let us welcome you properly.” 

Leo doesn’t give him the chance. He bolts to the front of the group, launching himself at the monster that stole his little brother.

Shredder doesn’t move.

Donnie does.

He places himself as a boundary between Leo and Shredder, catching his katanas before they can hit. Leo has no choice but to throw himself away, snapping, “Donnie! Back off!” He reorients himself, hitting the ground. “Shredder’s the enemy!” 

“My allegiance does not lie with you.” He responds simply. “Nor does my loyalty.”

Then Donnie’s crossing the distance, whirling his staff and throwing himself at Leo. Leo goes to meet him halfway, determined to knock him off his feet long enough to get through to him, startled by how different every move is.

There’s no hesitation to each blow, no extra care taken to prevent injury or calculation made to get the best outcome. He reacts every time, practically taking off Leo’s head and limbs more than once, only prevented by his quick reaction time. If he’s being perfectly honest with himself, he’s normally one step ahead, but now he can barely keep up. He’s forced to neglect their surroundings to focus on each blow, hoping that he can trust their brothers to handle their own.

Then his katanas are embedded in Donnie’s staff and Donnie’s knee is coming up to catch his chin. He stumbles, realizing too late that he left his blades behind. 

Donnie tears them out and throws them out of reach.

Leo knows he won’t last two seconds unarmed so he puts distance between them, getting to the top of one of the statues. Donnie doesn’t follow, watching from the ground, and Leo uses the breathing room to reach for his brother. “Donnie! This isn’t you! Think about it! You’ve got to break Shredder’s control!” 

“I am thinking clearly.” His little brother’s voice in unnatural, bland and bored in tone. “And I do not align with you anymore.” 

Leo points at the monster watching, baffled. “I’m your brother! That’s the Shredder!”

“I don’t care what you think.” Donnie plants his staff on the ground. “I do not follow you anymore, Leonardo. Accept it.”

“No.” Leo snarls as he throws one of the weapons embedded in the statue’s head, taking the trident with him. “Never.”

Donnie throws the first away, barely able to stop the trident with his bo. Leo presses down hard. Donnie’s expression changes and his eyes narrow, suddenly dropping the protective stance. 

“Woah!” Leo’s blade almost crashes into his forehead, but he catches it before it scrapes skin. They stare at one another, frozen, and Donnie states, “There. A weakness.”

He brings his staff up, knocking the blade away from his face, and then takes off.

Obviously, Leo follows him, and watches as he throws himself into Leatherhead’s and Slash’s battle. He jumps in the way of the mace and Slash hits him without blinking. He goes flying, and Leo screams, “LEATHERHEAD!”

Leatherhead throws him. He reaches his brother, arms around him, taking the combined blow of them both slamming into the gate. Donnie doesn’t hesitate, spinning around to shove the throwing star in his hand into Leo’s shoulder.

Leo catches his wrist, hissing, “Donnie-” 

Donnie elbows him in the gut and takes off. 

He runs towards Rockwell and Raph as the psychic mutant tries to impale their brother with his own sais. Donnie jumps up as they fly through the air. Leo grabs his legs, dragging them back down before they can impale him. 

Donnie swerves for him, staff coming down on his skull as they hit the ground, but Leo releases and rolls. Then he tackles his younger brother before he can try that idiocy again, trapping both arms against the ground, “Donnie! Stop this madness!”

Donnie grits his teeth, each thrashing movement more intense than the last. “No!” 

“Yes!” He doesn’t let up. “You’re his puppet! Can’t you see that?”

“Let me go!”

“Snap out of it!”

“Leo, please!” He begs. “You’re hurting me!”

Leo’s world tilts the wrong way, panic searing straight from his heart and into his brain, apology on the tip of his tongue. But he swallows it because Donnie’s eyes do not match his tone, cold and hard in a way that can never rule or not define his passionate little brother. 

“Are you-” It hits him. “-are you trying to manipulate me?”

Donnie raises an eye ridge, pausing in his struggle. “What took you so long?” 

Leo’s chest burns. So that’s the play? Really? Fine.

“I can’t believe you.” Leo tears himself away, putting distance between them. He turns back to his brother as he spins his staff. “I can’t believe you would do that!”

Donnie moves a few steps. Leo refuses to follow, “You’ve been with Shredder all of five minutes and this is the monster he turns you into?” 

A pause, “I am no different.” 

“You bet you are.” He growls. “I thought better of you. But I should have known. Of course you can’t stop this! You’re not strong enough! I can’t believe you’d disappoint me like this.” 

His stance falters. “What?”

Leo steps towards him, never breaking their gaze. “You heard me. You’re a disappointment, Donatello.” 

The staff slips from his fingers. He pushes, “You want to stay here? By all means! Stay! I won’t waste any energy stopping you.”

There are tears in blank eyes. Leo turns away.

A final nail in the coffin, he shouts. “Have fun with your new clan. Today, you are no longer my brother!”

Leo runs. Donnie gasps, “Leo, wait-!”

He chokes and Leo spins around in an instant.

He’s by his side as he hits his knees, gagging the brainworm onto the ground. Leo stabs it as it squirms, setting his attention on his little brother, hands on shaking shoulders. “Donnie?”

“I’m sorry,” He whimpers, looking up, face streaked with tears. “I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorryImsorry-” 

“Nonono-“ Leo hugs him, tight, his little brother’s head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize. I didn’t mean a single word I said- I swear, I didn’t. 

“I couldn’t-“ His breath hitches. “I couldn’t stop-“

“I know.” He says gently. “I know I know- I went too far. I just wanted to snap you out of it and I wanted to get you back. You’re my brother, you never disappointed me, and I’d never leave without you. I wanted you back. I just wanted you back.”

Donnie pulls away, looking him in the eyes, desperation visible, “Really?”

“I promise.” Leo squeezes his arm. “I swear on my life.”

He swallows, breath hitching, brushing at his face. 

Leo gets to his feet. “GUYS! GET THEM UPSET! FEELING SOMETHING SNAPS THEM OUT OF IT!”

“GOOD!” Raph calls back. “RIGHT UP MY ALLEY!”

Leo looks to Donnie. His younger brother exhales softly, brown eyes lingering uncomfortably on the brainworm.

He holds out his hand. Tired eyes look up.

“He’s not the only one.” Leo jokes, lightly. “Why don’t I make it up to you?”

He pulls his little brother to his feet. 

“Oh yeah?”

He smirks. “Help me take down the Shredder?” 

Determination sparks, lighting up his gaze, strengthening his stance. 

“Let’s bash his face in.” 

Leo’s never felt prouder. 

[agentzedbooks]

*Written while high and horny.*

Imagining someone with some magical ability, and they cause my breasts to swell up a cup size. Of course I’m instantly wet, and breathing hard. I ask her for more, and she says no, that I haven’t earned it yet. She says I have to beg for it. This just makes me hotter, and I have to decide if I’m willing to degrade myself just to satisfy my kink. As I appear undecided, she reaches out and gives my chest a light caress, telling me if I just say ‘please,’ she’ll give me a little more. I whimper slightly at her touch, and before I realize it, I say ‘please.’

She snaps her fingers, and I feel that intense pleasure as they swell up again. I almost bark out another ‘please,’ and another snap, another swell, more waves of mindless bliss. I don’t know it, but as my titties grow, my brain is shrinking. I’m now sporting some respectable handfuls, C cups about, and her hands go to my chest again. Her touch turns my knees to jelly, and I am putty in her hands. She smiles and lets out a satisfied chuckle. She asks me if I want to go bigger. I say please! She wags her finger and says, “Please, what?”

“Please make my tits grow,” I moan out. She snaps her fingers, and they swell again. I’m almost on the floor, and her silky touch is sending my brain into blank, empty bliss. She slides her fingers into my mouth, and I’m reflexively sucking on them. She then trails them down my chest, my belly, and stops just above my slit.

“Beg me,” she whispers.

I can’t think, too overwhelmed and lost in a fog of arousal. “P... puh... please... make my titties big!”

“Good girl,” she says, and the swelling begins again, and I’m so close to cumming I want to touch myself, but can’t actually focus enough to do it.

Soon, I am on my knees, as my top is close to ripping open, and I am kissing up and down her legs, begging through gasps and moans for more, to go bigger.

“Good girl,” she says, and my tits balloon up, and the fabric starts to tear. It hurts for a second, then my gorgeous new titties are free! My tits are so huge now, and I look down at them swinging freely in the air, nipples hard and so sensitive I can feel the air moving over them. I try to talk, but only desperate whimpers come out. I’m riding the edge and too far gone from pleasure to think.

“Do you want bigger?”

I grab my giant new tits and the pleasure sends me to a whole new level of blank, blissful arousal. I can only nod to her, and give the weakest of whimpers in the affirmative.

She snaps her fingers again, and I feel the flesh growing in my hands. I’m cumming, but it’s shallow, and only makes me more desperate, aching for a sexual release. She laughs at me.

“What a good little dummy doll,” she says, “Hmmm, let’s see, you need some evening out.”

My tummy cinches and my ass plumps just a little. My hair falls in front of my face and it’s suddenly bright blonde and wavy. It all feels so... right. I coo at the touch of my Mistress, who looks me in the eye and asks me “What are you?”

“I’m a dummy dolly,” I say, and she kisses me, melting what’s left of my brain. My tits swell one more time and my cunt explodes with pleasure. I float on a cloud of pink orgasmic bliss, and yet..l and yet I still need more. I’ll do whatever my Mistress wants to get more. No more icky thoughts, just fuzzy pink brain and tits. Love tits. Love MY tits. Dummy dolly wants to play!

[kpopsexstories]

QUICK FIX GAY #6: The boys of NCT Dream count down to midnight and set off their ‘fireworks’ 🍆💦

This is a 100% gay story. Check out this post for my straight smut and this post for more gay smut.

Pairing: NCT Dream & Male Reader

Content: Jerking off together on NYE, Lots of cumshots 🤭

Type of Sex: UNCONVENTIONAL

Word Count: 937

This is a little quick fix bonus story that relates to the NCT Dream Dating Ban series. Enjoy 😊

You're back in Jisung's dorm, to celebrate the new year with your friends in a way you can only do with them. The clock is about to strike midnight and you all excitedly begin the countdown.

“Ten,” Jeno says loudly to catch everyone's attention. You quickly get where he is going when you see him standing naked in the middle of the room, furiously flapping his hard dick with one hand and holding a watch in the other.

“Nine.”

The others catch the drift too and move a little closer together, stroking a little harder.

“Eight.”

You look around the room and meet everyone's curious eyes and excited expression, as you join in a semi circle of naked men. To your left, Haechan, Mark and Renjun. To your right, Jisung Chenle and Jeno.

“Seven.”

You raise your glass with your free hand, and catch Chenle's smile behind Jisung's shoulder, just before he shuts them hard and grimaces.

“Six.”

“Are we really doing this?” Renjun suddenly asks and laughs out loud while stroking his dick and taking a sip. No one responds to his justified question.

“Five.”

You too stop smiling and looking around, to instead focus on the great sensation between your legs, and the thill of masturbating with your friends. The evening so far has been filled with sex and games.

“Four.”

Haechan and Mark turn their boners toward each other, look into each other's eyes with lust and raise their glasses in a toast.

“Three.”

As always since you gave your body to him and showed him what great sex is, Jisung is too eager and starts the celebration early.

“Two.”

“Ahhh, fuuck!” he groans loudly beside you, and you all turn to watch and smirk as he orgasms and shoots his load onto the carpet.

“One.”

Everyone is furiously flapping their hands, eager to hit the mark, drinks spilling and bodies perspiring as the firework display is about to begin.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” everyone shout in unison, finally able to release. The build-up and timing couldn't have been much better.

Jeno leans back and lifts his heels off the ground and glass high in the air. He archs his back and points his cock straight out. “AHHH, FUUCK, HAPPY NEW YEAR!” he says when he explodes. His cum sprays the floor in front of him and several of the men around you giggle excitedly.

Chenle bends forward and lets out a moan. His face is twisted and he holds his breath as he shoots his sperm across a coffee table. He abruptly turns toward Jeno and sprays him too, then to you and Jisung who also get a dose of his incredible firework.

Renjun, whose imminent orgasm has caused his brain to shut down, instinctively holds his glass out in front of him and sticks his dick in the champagne. “Ahhrgh,” he groans and you chuckle when you see him with his dick in the tall glass.

Mark and Haechan have their arms around each other, staring down at their hands and shafts as they jerk them rapidly. They come at the same time, just seconds after midnight, shooting their loads onto each other's arms and stomachs.

Jisung, who is the first to come down from his intense high, gently puts an arm around your back. “Happy new year,” he says in a low voice and looks down at your dick while you continue to stroke it.

You know what he wants and direct it toward him. He smiles wide when you spray and drench his flat stomach in liquid.

“Fuck, that was great!” Jeno exclaims while happily looking around at everyone in the room.

“Happy new year!” Mark repeats and playfully wipes his hand on Haechan's bare chest.

“What the hell did you do?” Chenle asks and laughs out loud, when he spots Renjun and the contents of his glass which has now changed color.

“I didn't want to mess up the floor,” Renjun says with a chuckle. Clearly he was the only one with that kind of consideration.

Haechan is panting heavily beside him. “Too late,” he says while chipping for air, before his eyes meet Mark's again and they proceed to make out.

You grab Jisung around the neck and pull him in for a hug. He falls into your embrace with a giggle and puts his hand on your chest for balance. You too begin to kiss, your dicks still hard between you and cum all over your bodies.

“This is crazy,” you whisper and smile lovingly at him.

“Aren't you glad you came?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say and kiss him again.

The bathroom door suddenly opens and Jaemin returns. He's naked and hard but not yet emptied.

“Fuck, did I miss it?” he asks and looks around at the display which is already over.

“You're always late,” you tease and raise your glass in his direction, while your hand falls down Jisung's back and ass.

“Come,” Jeno says to make things better for his friend. He kneels on the floor and grabs Jaemin's dick.

You all gather around them, happy faces all around, and cheer them on as Jeno begins to suck the dick waving in his face.

“Ahh, ahh,” Jaemin moans. “Ahh, AHHH, HAPPY NEW YEEEAR!”

You laugh and cheer and clink your glasses together, when Jeno sticks out his tongue and Jaemin ignites his firework.

He sprays his load onto Jeno's face and lips. “Happy new year indeed,” you say in a low voice while staring at them, then turn to glance at Jisung.

“Best new year's eve ever,” you say and wink at each other.

[saturnzskyzz]

May I please request some Min-su content,,,preferably with one of his main lers being Thanos and/or Nam-gyu? I just love that silly little guy and think he should be wrecked!! Of course there’s no pressure tho if that’s not ur thing! :]

Why so anxious, boy?

Warning: | anxious descriptions | fear | tickling | intense |

Summary: Min-su is an anxious wreck, so? Why not have his two best bros to help him? Right?

A/N: Of course!!! I'm actually so excited to try and see what I come up with with this trio!! Thank you for the request!!! I made sure to practice on my intensity since you prefer those types of fics!! Let me know how I did :]]

----

Another game, finished. Finally! the screams and horror of the entire mingle game threw Min-su off a loop. Replaying each scene-thinking of ways where he could've possibly not have made it out of there. The only reason he was able to win was because of.. Oh, right..

During the games, his "friends" forced him to be a part of rock-paper-sciccors with Se-mi to see who would go with Thanos and Nam-gyu in a room. Due to the overwhelming situation, Min-su regrettably made himself win, and caused the two to drag him to the room, leaving Se-mi to look at him in disappointment and distrust. Fuck, why did I do that?

As he sat himself at his usual spot, he began to ponder. Really take in the possibilities his mind had ran without his permission. 'What if I did this differently?' "why did I make Se-mi lose? She hates me now' 'now I'm really left with those two lunatics.' it was a never-ending thought process for Min-su.

As he sat there to himself, he noticed two figures approaching. Oh boy. Here they come. What could they possibly be wanting after pulling that cruel stunt?

"What's up, my man!" Thanos said, his voice practically booming with pride. He approached him with an arm to go around his shoulder as he leaned comfortably close to Min-su.

"You were crazy out there! Making stupid Se-mi lose in rock-paper-sciccors was hella cool!" Nam-gyu said, using his hands to immitate what Min-su did earlier.

Min-su felt like he was suffocating within their presence. He wanted to be left alone. He had too many sentences and not so friendly words passing through his brain. It was like it was working a nine-to-five job with how much he thought without really thinking too hard on it. He was starting to zone out, with the presence of those who could've left him for dead without putting much thought to his name.

Thanos noticed this first, reluctantly swaying the both of them to try and see if it would get the shorter to come back to reality. The cruel, cruel reality.

"Hey, man! You good? You stared off into space there." Thanos said, looking at him with what Min-su had thought was a face with fake concern.

He didn't know what to say, he just kept looking in Thanos' direction, seemingly getting more tense by the second. It was like he was going to explode with how fact his mind was pacing, he didn't even care that Nam-gyu was getting closer by now. He just kept thinking.

Thanos grew concerned for the man, now. He brought up his hand infront of Nam-gyu to motion him to stop before coming any closer to the anxious player.

He stopped, eyeing the two confusingly as he saw Thanos unwrap his arm that was on the smaller's shoulder.

"Hey man, just take a deep breath." Thanos said, laying a soft pat to the shoulder. Well this is new? his fast pacing mind let him jot down his new thought of the current situation. Why was Thanos being helpful for once?

Maybe the pill was running out in Thanos' system? Thanos was already such a questionable person, doing this and that whenever and wherever, it's hard to tell what he would do or say next. And that was not what Min-su had thought he would say.

But, he decided to listen, as to not make him mad, and took deep breathes to calm him down. As he did so, Thanos wore his signature smile.

"There you go! Why so anxious, boy?" Thanos suddenly asked, and went to jab an offending finger right on Min-su's side, causing the poor dude to jolt with a surprised "ha!"

That seemed to stop his anxious thoughts quickly. It's like the world had stopped when that action had happened, and he didn't like the faces that Thanos and Nam-gyu wore when the deed was done.

"Hey, Thanos? you heard what I just heard, right?" Nam-gyu broke the silence, eyeing him with a Michivious smile of his own.

Thanos turned his head to look at him. "That was definitely heard, my brother. Hey, maybe you need a good laugh to break free of your anxious self!" Thanos said, jabbing a few more times into Min-su's side to get him to muffle a few giggles that were already betraying him to keep in.

"IhI.. D-don't think that's Necessary." Min-su quietly said, eyeing the both of them with nervous fear. Of course of all times they could find this silly weakness out is right now of all times?

Thanos placed his arm back onto Min-su's shoulder, making him tense up even more as if he already tensed up enough.

"It's time to let loose, my boy!" Thanos said, digging right into Min-su's side, enlightening the shocked giggles to come out of the poor soul.

The most sweet, and gentle sounding giggles was like music to both of the pill popper's ears.

"Wahahait, stohohohop!"Min-su begged, grabbing at the offending hands as Thanos went to town on his sides.

Surprisingly enough, Thanos was light with his touch. He could feel him digging, mainly because of the thick jackets they have been forced in, but nonetheless, his touch was thankfully light and not rough. He silently thanked the Gods for that.

"Awe, look at him! He's smiling~" Nam-gyu cooed, causing the man to blush.

"Look at that, man! Let us tickle your anxieties away, yeah?" Thanos said, even though he's already tickling him to pieces. The fact that this guy was able to notice that he was having an anxiety attack was.. An odd thought, considering with how insensitive the dude can get. But alas, these conversations were normal to Min-su, so he didn't expect any less. Fake empathy from these guys was like a walk to the park, unfortunately.

Assumingly getting bored with his sides, Thanos decided to go for his neck. Totally not because Nam-gyu tickled his tattoo right before going up to Min-su he discovered that Min-su's neck wasn't that affective, but it still caused him to make funny movements, observed from the both of them, along with a few squeaks and huffs.

"C'mon, you gotta do better than that to get him going! Watch. And. Learn!" Nam-gyu said suddenly, walking up to them as he cracked his fingers. Min-su was fucked..

He didn't know whether or not this guys would show him mercy if he started, but he never wanted to find out. He was relieved that it was just Thanos tickling him, but Nam-gyu?? He's digging his own grave now.

"W-wahahait, no! Nohot you toho.. Plehease!" Min-su pleaded, looking at Thanos for help with begging eyes. Thanos looked at him with a smirk.

"Don't worry! He's way more skilled, trust me!" Thanos said, beating his fist in his chest to emphasize the word "trust."

But.. That's exactly why he didn't want Nam-gyu to touch him, because he was skilled. He's seen how he literally dominated Thanos earlier-Thanos was BOOMING with laughter. He grew more nervous by the second as Nam-gyu approached them.

"I'll make your anxieties go away with a single puff of air!" Nam-gyu said as he blew air into his fist to extend his fingers, lastly giving him a wicked smile that told him he had no mercy.

"You see, you gotta really get them laughing-to really make sure that you're releasing all that tension loose, you get me?" Nam-gyu looked at Thanos as he placed his hands on Min-su's shoulders, squeezing them every now and then as a "gifted" massage before all hell broke loose.

Thanos gave him an "aah" sound to let him know that he was following. As he eyed him carefully, Nam-gyu suddenly darted his hands onto Min-su's ribs, using intricate fingers to experiment each crevice and bone like he was some test subject.

Oh, the scream he had released.

Min-su would have told you that you were hearing things if you said he screamed. It was definitely a feeling he has not felt before, or at least in forever. He forgot how badly his ribs were, it was like Nam-gyu was some kind of expert on tickling someone like Min-su. That thought alone sent shivers down his spine as if the tingly sensations weren't already spine crawling enough.

"F-FUHUHUCK.. WAIT! WAHAHAIT!" Min-su used the strength he had to try and pry Nam-gyu's blood thirsty fingers off of him, but with how weak he was quickly becoming from the onslaught had him struggle to get the upper hand.

The two drug addicts laughed at his squeaky retorts. How he could muster up the courage to even speak to them like that was dumfoundingly shocking to the both of them.

"Wow, Min-su! I never thought you had the gut to curse like that! We should do this more often." Nam-gyu teased, bringing the blush to flush all over Min-su's features adorably to the two. He didn't want to use such language in front of them, he didn't know why, but with this sort of thing, he might as well sell his soul for how humiliating this was for him.

"Hey Nam-su!" Thanos said suddenly, wearing an offended look from his new-found friend.

"It's Nam-gyu, Bro." He said, easily irritated at the mispronunciation of his name, never once leaving Min-su's poor ribs alone.

"Why not go for the pits?" ignoring the correction, he stared at Nam-gyu as he asked this.

"You're so right, bro! We gotta try." He said, looking at Min-su now, noticing that he looked at him with widened eyes.

"PLEHEHEASE- NOHOohohot the PIHIHI- WAHAHAIT- AHAHAHA!" With a sharp jolt, almost getting out of Thanos' hold by the reaction, but Nam-gyu kept him in place as he shot his hands into his armpits with determination. He drilled his thumbs into the both of them, causing Min-su to squeal.

He couldn't form words now, realising that the feeling was too much to even speak. He reluctantly squirmed and pulled as he tried desperately to get out of the hold from the agonizing feeling. All together to save his sanity, he looked away from the both of them as he laughed his heart out. He even forgot why they even tickled him in the first place.

"Let it loose, my boy!" Thanos yelled with an amused smile.

"Yeah!" Nam-gyu had suddenly bent down to get close to his ear, "We know you needed this~" he sung with a whisper, causing Min-su to shift his head from the breathy feeling in general, causing his ears to become a bit red now. God, this was awful.

He was alright with Thanos tickling him cause he visibly showed mercy to not go rough, but Nam-gyu? He was ruthless! He wished it was Thanos instead.

"PLEHEAHA- PLEA- PLEEHEASE! W-WAIT!" Min-su used all his strength to muster those words, hoping, praying that the ruthless monster would stop. Thankfully, he relented, but he kept his hands in his armpits to continue his adorable giggles.

"What is it, huh?" Nam-gyu said teasingly, slightly shaking his hands to make him tense. God, what a pain?

"Ihihi.. IhI need ahaha brehehake!" Min-su breathlessly begged, never once looking at the both of them from embarrassment.

Nam-gyu and Thanos looked at each other, and then back at Min-su.

"Hmm... Let me think on that!" Nam-gyu hummed, slowly wiggling his fingers now to surprise the poor man.

"Gohohod dahahamit.. Ehehahaha." Min-su couldn't help his flustered giggles. He shook his head as if that would help his predicament, but it only amused Nam-gyu and Thanos.

"Aren't you have fun, Min-su~?" Nam-gyu asked teasingly in his ear yet again, causing his ears to go redder than before. He didn't know what to say in that moment.

He wanted to say no. He wanted Nam-gyu to lay off. But this was genuinely helping him with his anxiety attack, and it did feel kind of nice when Thanos started the ticklish ambush.. But he wasn't going to ask him to switch with Thanos. Surely not.

"Well? What's it gonna be?" Nam-gyu guickly drilled his thumbs in his armpits again to get him to squeal once more, regrettably deciding to keep quiet.

"WAITWAHAHAIT WAHAHIT! NOHOHOT AHAHAGAIN!"

"Do you want us to continue or not? Not like we'd stop anytime soon, though, HA!" Nam-gyu said, drilling more into him armpits as if the earlier assault wasn't enough.

"THAHAHANOS! LEHEHET THAHANOHOS- AAAH, EHAHAAHAHA!" and he said it... He didn't want to, but if it got Nam-gyu to stop, then so be it, right?

Both of them were shocked, staring at each other with amusement, Nam-gyu finally laid off, holding his hands up as to surrender. "He's all yours, man!" He said.

Heavily breathing in well deserved gulps of air, Min-su was thankful that Nam-gyu actually relented in his attacks. Surely Thanos would go easy on him. He did earlier!

"You're about to experience the new Thanos world, my brother!" Thanos said in a booming voice. Wait what? What did he mean by that?

"Thank Nam-su over there for demonstrating how to get your beers turning!" Thanos said. Again with the nickname, Nam-gyu was ticked off by that.

Oh.

Oh no.

This can't be happening.

Min-su's heart sunk to the floor, as he nervously looked up to Thanos. "W-wahait.. Plehease don't.." he begged.

Thanos only looked at him with a smug look on his face. "Let's give these armpits some more attention." he said, darting his hand into his pits, relishing in new bounts of laughter from the shorter.

"AHAHA- F-FUHUHUCK YOHOHOU!" Min-su regretted his choic of words by the second, noticing how Thanos stopped his attack for a brief moment before going back to really drill his thumps into his Armpits.

"Oh, you're fucked now, Min-su." Nam-gyu said darkly, crossing his arms to watch the scene unfold.

Min-su was going to be humiliated for the rest of that very day. But of course, you never want to mess with Thanos and Nam-gyu if you want your ego untouched that is!

---

oh my goodness, I hope this was good 🫣🫣

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!

[darth-jess]

GalaxyCon 2024: Meeting Hayden Christensen

I have never been someone who cares about famous people. To clarify: I care about them as human beings, like in a very general sense, the way I'd care about any other person I've never met before. I also don't really care to know much about the personal lives of my favorite famous people. For me, at least, knowing things about them can change the way I look at the characters they play, the music they write, or the art they make. And personally, I like to view these things in my own context, not within someone else's.

Because of this, I have never really become obsessed with any particular famous person. I've become obsessed with their art– their portrayal of a character, their music, their writing, etc… but never with the actual person. Why would I? I've never met them before, I don't know them, I don't know what they're like as real people.

So I never really understood those fangirls who scream or faint or start sobbing when they get to meet the Jonas Brothers or Taylor Swift. I totally did not get it.

Then, I got to meet Hayden Christensen this past weekend at GalaxyCon.

And let me tell you, emotional fangirls, I get it now.

I have never been to a con before, this was my first one ever and honestly I don't think any future con I go to will top this one.

I knew going into it I was going to be a little nervous. After all, even though (as I stated before) I don't really care about the actors who play my favorite characters, I can absolutely appreciate how much their acting affected me, how much the role they played on screen changed my own life, as well as their skill as an artist.

And because Anakin Skywalker has been my favorite character in all fiction since I was 6 years old– and has not changed since then– I was very excited. The only favorite characters I had before Anakin were Darth Vader (when I found out they were the same my 4-year-old brain nearly exploded) and Ariel from The Little Mermaid. I was 3 when The Phantom Menace came out, give me a break.

Anyway.

Waiting in line for the photo op on Saturday gave me so much excited anxiety, I felt light headed and a little sick to my stomach– and the entire time my husband was kind of making fun of me (not in a mean way, mind you, he was making me laugh). I kept telling him, "I'm too nervous, I want to go home!" – which wasn't true, but for some reason I kept saying it.

The photo op was super quick, I remember Hayden saying something nice, like "Nice to meet you" or something like that (or maybe I said that?). I only had time to hand Hayden the Anakin Skywalker replica lightsaber I'd gotten the day before and ask him to hold it! I think he said something else, but I literally don't remember because I sort of blacked out.

I barely remember taking the picture.

Then, later in the day, we waited in line for two hours (it was worth it) to get his autograph and the entire time I was trying to stay calm because I was worried that when we got to him I would just stare at him blankly, unable to say anything.

The line was soooo long, and he was sort of blocked off behind these curtains– I think the curtains are there as much for him as they are for the fans. I imagine if he could've seen how long the line was, he would've wished for Anakin's robotic arm to do all those autographs. I would have, for sure.

When we were ushered through the curtains I could literally feel every single beat of my heart, I could hear it in my brain. I felt lightheaded again, and I turned to my husband and said, "I think my heart is going to explode."

Something I noticed as we got closer was that even though he looked kind of tired, he was still nice to every single person in line and made every interaction special. I have no idea how many autographs he'd already done that day– hundreds at least– and he was still trying to talk to everyone who'd come to see him.

Finally, we got to Hayden and he looked me right in the eyes (and like holy aslkdfj that gaze is intense– NICE, but intense) and he said something like, "How are you today?"

And I said, "I'm good, how are you? It's so nice to meet you!"

I have no idea what he said after that because my heart was beating SO LOUD, but he said something nice in response.

And then I finally remembered what I wanted to tell him, so I said, "Anakin was always my favorite character."

He smiled real big while he was signing our poster, and he said, "Thank you, that means a lot to me!"

I wanted to say more, like:

"How much of yourself do you feel like you put into Anakin's character?" – This is something I'm always curious about, because as a writer I feel like I put so much of myself into my writing.

Or:

"I hope we get to see you in more Star Wars projects!"

Or even just:

"I'm so happy you're getting the recognition you deserve."

But I was honestly lucky I'd been able to speak at all, and at this point, nothing else was coming out. And I was slightly worried that if I spoke again I'd say something weird or not make any sense at all.

So my husband took over, and he held up the photo we'd taken earlier from the photo op and said, "Thanks for making me look like the third wheel!"

And Hayden laughed– he actually laughed– and made some kind of joking reply but I sort of blacked out there too because I was so embarrassed!

Finally, my husband said what I'd really wanted to say, "We're just really happy to see you finally getting the recognition you deserve."

And Hayden smiled and nodded, and said, "Really, thank you guys so much, that means a lot."

And then he shook our hands and said it was nice to meet us, and it was time to go. We walked out, and I had tears in my eyes, my heart was still racing, and my whole body was shaking. I turned to my husband as I held onto his arm and I said, "I literally can't feel my legs."

Moral of the story: Hayden Christensen is literally so nice to his fans, so if you ever get the opportunity to meet him, I highly recommend it. He's not going to remember the interaction, but I guarantee you will for the rest of your life.

Also, don't judge fangirls for getting emotional.