#I will be thinking of you lovely 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

[crazy-thing-called-rock]

“Unfortunately, he wouldn’t get the chance to fully think through the scenario he was living in. It all happened so fast, there was a crash, someone yelling, and then- One moment, he was getting his world tilted on its axis for perhaps the first time in his life, and in the next he was tossed off his feet, the weight of the man’s shoulder slamming into his chest.”

This is my entry for this year’s @sthbigbang challenge, where I made this illustration for the amazing stobotnik fic Quality Assurance written by @cabbagiez 🪨❤️🥚

You can also check out this cool ass pixel art illustration for this fic made by @onyxsonyx on his profile!

Thanks everyone who took part in this project I loved working with you all 🧡

[buckybarnesfic]

Thank you for the love and sharing, Az 🧡

I don't think I'd have shared it without you giving me the push

So, I can't believe this is the fic that takes me from a reader and reblogger to author. @buckyys-babydoll shared a picture (below the cut) in Discord and this was born and really, I got nothin'. @azriona said it needed to be posted. So I blame her too. Y'all I'm sorry. This is something.

Using the read more otherwise I'd be a hypocrite. It's 400 words of chaos.

You really didn't partake in anything, just meandering through the aisles and exhibits. There were booths set up for games and people selling items. You had perused a few of the goods booths but hadn't purchased anything yet, you wanted to see what else was available. 

It had surprised you when Bucky asked if you wanted to go to a local county fair. He wasn't normally the type to mingle among crowds. It was a nice day, the temperature hadn't reached unbearable highs quite yet for the time of year, so the walk to the festival didn't leave you worn out. 

Bucky was talking about something when you suddenly stopped short in front of him, causing him to bump into you. You were sure the visual that followed caused humor for spectators as Bucky tried to prevent the both of you from falling. 

The small chaos you caused went unnoticed for the most part, even if you had a beefy Avenger plow into you., "Bucky, I want it!" 

Bucky looked confused. "Want what?"

"That!" you exclaimed and pointed to a games booth that had a giant plush penis hanging on the side with other innocent prizes like stuffed bears and plush avocados. It even had a tiny smiling face on it. 

When Bucky realized what you were pointing at, his face changed to a mix of horror and disgust. The plushie even had balls. "What the fuck. Why?"

"It's so cute!"

No one should ever describe dick and balls as cute. It didn't matter if it was plush or real. 

"C'mon, baby," you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him in the direction of the booth. It was a shooting game no less. You had to remove the star with a BB gun. "Oh Bucky! You can win it! You're a marksman!"

Bucky wished he was anywhere but right here. "No. I'm not playing so you can win a dick." His voice lowered to only you could hear. "Why would you want a fake one when you get a real one regularly. Less than three hours ago."

You pouted. "Because I can't cuddle yours."

"The fuck you can't."

"I can't exactly take it out while we watch movies with the team."

"You're not cuddling that in front of the team."

"I can cuddle it when you're gone. More than one person describes you as a dick.” Bucky narrowed his eyes as he paid the vendor and picked up the gun. He'd find out who called him a dick. It didn't take long before Bucky Jr was on his way to his new home.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

Please, please, please, please can I get a Ga Ming Alphabet I just love him so mucccchhhhhhhhh

Author's Note: Gaming is 20+ here

For our 3000 follower celebration! (CLOSED NOW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Gaming practically attacks your face with kisses!! He still has so much energy, he's like an excited puppy kissing you and tangling your bodies together. While he's still riding the high from his orgasm, it's impossible for him to keep his hands off of your body. Always touching whatever he can reach.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He's quite proud of his legs/leg strength, and his bubble butt 🧡

Of yours, I'd say Gaming would adore your cheeks. Which cheeks, you ask? Yes~ 😊

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

Gaming's orgasms are quite powerful, and rightfully so, since it takes some work to help him cum. But the reward is soooo worth it ❤️

He likes to cum on you, if possible. Seeing his cum dripping down your skin is a huge turn-on!

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wishes you would bite him more often ;'(

Not enough to break the skin, of course, but please bite down on his shoulder while you're pounding him? Gaming craves that extra stimulation!

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, but he's enthusiastic about everything. It's easy to try out new things and get him interested in different positions or ideas.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. May include a visual)

Cowgirl, mating press, and 69.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I think the answer is pretty self-explanatory lol. He's a goofy goober for sure. His dirty talk can be a bit silly too, but it's still very hot.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

THICK BUSH! EXTREMELY THICK BUSH, IN FACT!!!

Gaming's hair looks so nice engulfing the base of his cock… sometimes he jokes that he should shave it, but seeing the disappointed look on your face drives any thought of doing so away 😅

I also think Gaming would have thick chest and arm hair! And just, thick body hair all over fgkskfhskf

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

He's very romantic, inside and outside of the bedroom. No matter how intense the moment becomes, Gaming will wrap his arms around your neck and hold you as if you're about to vanish. Sometimes he even leaves bruises from how tight his grip was on your body, but all is forgiven pretty quickly. He just naturally clings to you for comfort.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Loves, loves, loves mutual masturbation! Seeing you jack off right next to him while he's pumping his own cock, both of you creating a wet mess in your lap, maybe even reaching over to touch your cock too? Yeah, that's the life 🤤

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Overstimulation, electro play, sounding, puppy play, and I could totally picture Gaming getting into fisting, if that's considered a kink? A fetish? Also, plushie humping is totally his thing~

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Gaming has become quite fond of kitchen sex. Gettin' spicy while you cook up a spicy dish? Count him in!

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Kissing almost always leads to something more… just the feeling of your lips on his, the taste of you enticing him to forget everything else and wrap his legs around your waist, a hand on the small of his back… subtle touches, or innocent touches, do so much to rile Gaming up.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

While he is a bit of a masochist, I don't think he would enjoy impact play. He's not into you hitting his face/slapping, CBT, that kind of stuff.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Loves both equally. That's why 69 is one of his favorite positions, Gaming can thrust into your mouth while you do the same to him~

He's pretty damn good at it too. When Gaming wants to suck you off, you're guaranteed to get milked for every last drop 😅

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Somewhat fast and rough, then gradually likes for you to pick up the pace until you're destroying his hole/he's bouncing on you so fast it makes him dizzy!

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Eh, they're alright. It's usually not enough to satisfy him though, and he will pout until you can do more :(

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Yeah, I think he would be interested in trying all sorts of new things. Hell, he even suggests a lot of the things y'all try out 😅

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Archons above, this man has stamina for DAYS–

You kind of need stamina to be a wushu dancer, and it comes in handy in the bedroom. You end up fucking for hours, taking water breaks in between, but overall fucking desperately for a long time.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Honestly, Gaming prefers your cock over a toy. It's your cock, mouth, fingers, tongue, hands, or bust (and not in the fun way).

The only exception is a vibrator pressed against the underside of his cock while you're fucking him. That's the only way Gaming will let it slide.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I'd say he's a little bit of a tease, but it's the fun kind of teasing that makes sex even better for both of you.

Rolling his hips/grinding his hips down while he's riding you, making you feel how tightly his body's grip on you is. Touching your chest while you're kissing, and possibly unbuttoning your shirt while you're distracted 👉👈 Wearing shirts that ride up whenever he stretches or reaches for something, or, similarly, wearing pants that hang low on his hips while you're chilling at home.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He's pretty dang loud lol. Gaming laughs a lot during sex, and he repeats words a lot (ex. Repeating "yes" over and over right when he's about to cum)

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Bro does not wear underwear often… definitely not if he has a day off and is lounging at home. The dick is hanging free, baby!

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

5 and a half inches, uncut. The prettiest happy trail ever that leads into his bush is also hidden within his pants~

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's a bit high, but I don't think he's exactly insatiable? Although it may seem like it sometimes 😭

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Gaming, falling asleep after sex? Not in a million years! He either mellows out a bit, or he has a lot of energy left to cuddle and kiss!

[notyourmamasdeerbat]

A Word With Friends | June 23rd

Hello hello, my friends! I got a little carried away after work so this is very delayed, but happy Monday and happy word of the week, I am so so pleased to be hosting this beyond delightful game for the generous @hedwigoprah ! 🧡 Thank you @officialnostradamus , you absolute vernacular genius, for hosting last week as well. I loved your word!

Rules: Use the challenge word to write a sentence or scene and then tag a few friends.

This week's word is (my all time favorite word) Balter

to dance or tread clumsily, without particular grace or skill

Happy writing, dear ones! I can't wait to see what you all come up with!

Enjoy some sorely needed fluff under the cut; 2K+ words, a continuation of my very very late submission for last week, Rook and Harding recovering from dour conversation and foul portents

“No no, like this–” Rook laughed, gently taking Harding’s hand. It was a little difficult, and the dwarf had to stand on her toes to reach the rogue as they tried to bend down, awkwardly accommodating one another as Rook led them in another stumbling turn. 

Harding dissolved into giggles again, breathlessly clinging to Rook’s fingers with her own. “I’m getting dizzy. How many times do you have to spin?” 

“Twice, then come about. Ready? One, two-three, one, two-three, one two-thr– Harding!” Rook wheezed as Harding trod heavily on their foot, laughing aloud and from their chest for the first time in days. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Horrified, the scout went to release their hands. Rook kept a gentle hold and spun the dwarf slowly under their arm, recovering as they spun their shorter partner out a few steps and drew them back in just as carefully. 

“I’m fine. You should have seen Revas. He can’t waltz for anything. He likes to say he can, just don’t believe him.” 

Harding giggled, returning carefully to their starting position in the golden glow of the music room. “You’re pretty good at this. I’ve never waltzed before.” 

“Maybe you can impress Taash later.” 

Harding went cherry red right to the tips of her ears. “I– Oh, no, I don’t think–” 

Rook snickered and smoothly transitioned into another series of slow steps, rotating them round and round across the floor in the silence. Past the piano, around a low table scattered with letters and documents. “Take it slow. One, two-three, one, two three, slow quick-quick, slow quick-quick, now you’re getting it!” 

Harding exhaled, brow furrowing in concentration as she watched their footsteps move in tandem, shadows dancing on the creaking floorboards of Solas’ old respite. Lips moving quietly to continue Rook’s count, she anticipated the extension of Rook’s long arm and turned beneath it, coming back to center without pause. 

“Excellent, my friend! Oh, you’re a natural! Lady Lace Harding. You’ve got the soul of a dowager empress!” Beaming, Rook spun them once more, a little wider apart, across the floor to crash together again, picking up the pace. 

“Oh Maker— Rook–!” Harding protested breathlessly, laughing and out of breath. 

A curious hiss rippled through the chamber underneath the hollow scraping of stone as the door to the music room slid out of sight, revealing the ghostly lilac rays of the astrolabe in the library’s sanctum beyond. 

Harding threw a glance over her shoulder with a grin. “We have an audience!” 

“Manfred!” Rook slowed and carefully released Harding, whose braids stopped swaying when she did, touching her brow with a dizzy grin. “Hey, love! What are you–” 

An indignant screech echoed and bounced off the stones. Manfred startled, hissing animatedly as he clattered into the room, waving his arms wildly, clacking his mandibles together and grinding the teeth of his permanent grin. The stone door began to slide shut behind him, just a furry bundle of lightning skidded around the corner, lifted a bright eyed head, shrieked its recognition and sprang in after him. 

Assan pounced on the wayward skeleton in a tumbling bundle of bone and feathers. They scrambled against the floor, shrieking and hissing as Assan lifted his wings, flapping and squawking in triumph. 

“Woah, woah, hey!” Rook scruffed the thick skin and fuzz at the nape of the griffon’s neck, hoisting him up with a grunt as Assan went immediately limp, foreclaws hanging. “Be careful, be careful!” 

Manfred scuttled back on his hands, bony knees knocking with a joyful cry, mouth still open wide. 

Assan’s tufted tail lashed back and forth eagerly as he panted. 

“Are you two playing?” Rook laughed. 

Manfred hissed happily, and Assan squawked, wings flapping in assent. 

Harding cackled, slumping back down onto the piano bench. “Oh my goodness. I thought maybe Manfred had taken Assan’s favorite carving or something.” 

Manfred asssshhhed indignantly as he wobbled to his feet, taking both bony hands to cover his glittering lenses and bunching his shoulders. 

“You were…? Hiding? Oh, hide and– Assan, you’re supposed to let him hide first!” Rook released the griffon, heart lightening another few degrees as Assan chirped and bounded in happy circles around the skeleton. Manfred turned to follow him, clapping his hands in delight, before settling and planting his booted feet to point at Harding. 

Her hazel eyes widened as she touched the embroidered front of her overalls. “Me?” 

Manfred hissed and turned to point at Rook. Harding hmmed in understanding, starting to smile. “Oh! Us! Rook and I were— well, we were trying to dance. I think.” 

Manfred perked up like a freshly watered lily, seeming enchanted by the thought. Assan squawked and sat, curling his tail over his feet to regard Rook doubtfully. 

“What?” Rook demanded. “I can dance.” 

Assan preened a forefeather, unconvinced. Manfred bounced his hands excitedly, hissing and gurgling as he held out his phalanges to Harding. 

“Oh, no,” Harding laughed. “I’m done. I’m really done for today, I think.” 

Spirit undamped, Manfred only shrugged his collarbones and scapulas to clatter in a jaunty circle, proceeding to balter alone around the space while chattering a rhythmless melody of ‘ra’s and ‘shk’s. 

Rook grinned full tilt, amused by Curiosity’s antics. Assan concurred, cocking his head to one side as his ears folded back, eyes fixed puzzled on the skeleton and his uncoordinated jig. 

“Manfred!” The stone door ground open once more. “If I find even one vertebrae out of alignment, I assure you, I will be very cross ind– Oh!” Harried, Emmrich paused in the archway of the music room, eyes widening at the sight before him. Neve lingered close behind as she tried to catch her breath, smiling to herself with a whole host of glowing wisps drifting behind her. 

Manfred fizzed and whistled, waving over his shoulder by way of greeting as he continued to clatter and spin and wave his arms. 

“Having fun there, Fred?” Neve stepped into the room, the rhythmic clink of her prosthetic leg underscoring the skeleton’s clicks, clacks and whispers of marrow against leather. The wisps chittered curiously, drifting in to follow and illuminate the space even further. “Hey, Rook. Lace.” 

One of the wisps swooped down across the piano after stirring a few strands of Harding’s hair affectionately, bouncing across a few of the keys in a short series of discordant notes. The spirits immediately gathered round the instrument, as if recognizing it through enraptured study.

Assan purred and twined around the detective’s legs, nudging his beak under her hand. “Saw these two thundering by– wanted to see if they needed wrangling.” 

“Wrangling indeed,” Emmrich sniffed, stepping inside, even as his very stern expression was beginning to reluctantly melt into something much softer as he watched his ward sway and wiggle to his own music. The necromancer sighed and folded his hands behind him with a weary smile, regarding Rook sidelong. “I do hope we’re not interrupting.” 

“Not at all. Seeking levity. Manfred followed our example after Harding and I had a heavy chat.” Rook’s lips quirked as the wisps continued to bounce and play along the keys, before everyone grew very very still as the contradictory melody smoothed into something harmonious. Several of the wisps had lined up, jostling each other in line, before moving one after the other in an almost choreographed sequence. 

Everyone but Emmrich seemed dumbstruck as the wisps began to play a dreamy Orlesian waltz in perfect time. The professor’s mouth curved in earnest as he relaxed and settled back slightly on his heels. “Well now. Memory astounds.” 

“You mean–” Harding, enamoured, watched the spirits over her shoulder with a disbelieving grin. “They’re playing something from memory?” 

“Something from this room, or the mind of an occupant. I gather they are all quite familiar. How fascinating.” Emmrich studied the phenomenon fondly, gaze drinking in each tendril of phantasma. Neve chuckled, leaning a shoulder against the wall as she watched the spirits at play. 

“Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” 

Manfred, absolutely overjoyed by the addition of music beyond what he alone could hear, shrieked and redoubled his efforts, beckoning for Assan, whose ears shot straight up as the griffon bounded over to his friend, wings lifted experimentally. Manfred mimed reaching for Assan’s feathered joints and the griffon only spun out of his grasp, chittering and cooing, pleased with this new game as he seemed to trot in time. 

“Oh, here we go.” Grinning, Rook clicked their heels and held a hand out to Emmrich. “Professor?” 

The elder gentleman made a noise, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Oh. It does seem a shame to let the wisps’ talent go to waste.” He took Rook’s hand. “But I warn you, it’s been some time since I–” 

“Me too!” Rook interjected reassuringly, still beaming in the golden hour glow of the Fade beyond the windows. “Don’t be shy. Show us how it’s done.” 

Emmrich exhaled through his nose with a fond smile and offered his other hand with an elegant sweep of his arm. Rook took it as Emmrich rested another broad, thin fingered hand on their shoulder and Rook settled a hand carefully at his side. 

The wisps renewed their melody, a little more quickly than before, and Emmrich took a deep breath before lifting his chin and surging into a graceful tri-step with Rook in tow. The Veil Jumper caught their breath in surprise, beaming as they were swept along and adapted to the necromancer’s dapper pace. 

Harding whistled. “Wow!” 

“That’s what I was thinking,” Rook laughed as Emmrich turned them once in a neat and tidy spin, resuming their tandem. 

“Not too fast, I hope,” Emmrich hummed, confident in his earnesty. 

“Oh, bring it on,” the Veil Jumper challenged, feeling like their face might crack from smiling. 

“It may not be a waltz in definition if we push ourselves too far. Maker forbid– a foxtrot.” 

Rook laughed and shifted their hips one way, gently tugging Emmrich along with them to make way for Manfred and Assan’s spirited clamoring. 

“You’re rather adept at this,” Emmrich observed. 

“This and no other– waltzing was a force of habit in Orlais.” Rook laughed and allowed the necromancer to turn them under his arm, light on their feet. 

“Drilled into muscle memory, I gather.” Emmrich spun them across the floor in a gentle extension of his hand and Rook turned back to meet him as they resumed their dance. 

“Very much. You’re excellent.” 

“Why thank you, Rook. I admit, it took years and years of practice.” 

Neve smiled from her perch, she’d settled down beside Harding on the piano bench. “And how does a mortalitasi Fade-expert come to learn ballroom dances?” 

“Spirits have the most curious habits. Most adore music just as much as we do.” The waltz slowed and eventually drew to a close. Emmrich released Rook with a careful bow, and they returned the gesture gallantly before whirling on the piano bench and holding out their hands eagerly to Neve. 

“Your turn.” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Neve hummed, reproachful, even as her dark eyes glittered with surprised laughter. 

“Oh, but I do. Take it away, garçons.” Grinning as the wisps resumed another, jauntier melody that may have once been some kind of shanty, Rook gently pulled the detective to her feet as she sighed and relinquished her hands. 

Rook gathered her arm and Neve settled her hand in the curve of the Veil Jumper’s waist. Manfred hissed inquisitively and tapped Emmrich on the shoulder, offering both of his hands. 

“Why, Manfred, I’d be delighted.” The necromancer’s crow’s feet crinkled endearingly as he took his ward’s hands in his own and began another, slower waltz, humming along with the piano. Manfred followed determinedly, keeping time with the click of his subtalar joints. Assan sprang up onto the piano bench (barely keeping his haunches from falling off the edge in the limited space) to lay his head in Harding’s lap. 

“I don’t dance, Rook,” Neve said, even as she allowed the rogue to lead them in a graceful turn. 

“You might, if you like. You’re probably better at it than you think.” 

“You’re a little insane, you know that?” 

“What?” Rook hummed, smiling as they spun the detective under their arm and across their chest as she followed, near graceful, almost practiced. Neve never half assed anything, not even an unfamiliar dance. “You hadn’t noticed? The world’s ending and we’re all a little insane. But the wisps are playing piano. I think I’ve been out-crazied. Just for tonight.” 

Neve grinned and tossed her head to flick a lock of dark hair over her shoulder as they turned and spun throughout the music room, the steady clink-clink of her leg keeping excellent tempo. “Watch your toes. This thing isn’t built for waltzing.” 

“Oh, don’t worry. These boots have seen everything.” 

“You invest in anything steel capped?” 

“Next stop at the market if you manage to break my foot. Which you haven’t.” 

“Yet.” 

The uplifting melody grew romantic and classical once more as the door to the music room slid open with the rattling groan of marble and granite. Lucanis stood in the doorway, eyes widening slightly at the sight before him in the warm glow of the chamber. 

“Ah, Lucanis!” Emmrich greeted, waltzing by in the arms of his skeletal companion. “Fine evening, isn’t it?” 

Harding giggled at the look on the assassin’s face. 

Rook beamed over Neve’s shoulder, suddenly feeling startled and exposed, even as they valiantly recalled their count and turned with the detective once more, face heating. “Hey, you.” 

“Hello.” Lucanis blinked, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. “Am I interrupting?” 

“Not at all.” Neve broke from Rook abruptly and pushed them towards the Antivan Crow with a palm against their lower back, her voice low and sly. “The more the merrier.”

Tagging my beloveds! Do with this what you will and enjoy the game! Remember to have a snack and drink some water- your kidneys will thank you. 🫗💝

@fenrelmercar @draco-illius-noctis @redheadsramblings @the-bear-and-his-sunbird @davrinsleftpectoral @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @sunny374940 @nevarrantorte @caughtnyact @seaglassmelody @strugglinggranola @jenn2d2 @thesummerstorms @woundedsoul12

[alarwynnwhispers]

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 31: ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ 🧡

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴘʀᴇꜱꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀᴘᴀʀᴀᴢᴢɪ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴄᴇ

ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴇx-ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴜᴛ (ᴍᴀɢᴜɪ)

ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴀᴍᴇ, ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴄʀᴜᴛɪɴʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ ʙᴏᴜɴᴅᴀʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀʜᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴛʏ

ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ (ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴘᴀɪɴ, ᴛᴡɪɴꜱ ᴋɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ)

ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜰʀᴏɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʙᴀɢɢᴀɢᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴇʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ

ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ᴅᴇᴘɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱɪᴛɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴛʏ’ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ

The villa was quieter now. The laughter had faded, the last of the champagne flutes collected and rinsed, the glow of the party replaced by the golden hush of morning. But even with the sun up, the warmth of the previous night clung to the space.

(Y/n) stretched as she padded barefoot through the open hall, her robe brushing softly over the tile floor. In the kitchen, she found Zak pouring himself a second espresso.

"You’re up early," he greeted warmly.

"So are you," she smiled, hand instinctively resting over her belly.

He nodded toward it. "They keeping you up, or just the headlines?"

"Both. And my back. And Lando snoring."

Zak chuckled. "He does that?"

"Like a lawnmower," she said, grinning. "But a very endearing one."

Zak sipped his coffee. "You handled all of it yesterday... with real grace."

(Y/n) glanced toward the garden, where remnants of the party still clung to the chairs and lanterns. "I didn’t think it would happen this fast. But I guess I was wrong."

He offered a more serious look. "This sport doesn’t slow down for anyone. But you’re part of this family now. That means we take care of our own. If you need anything, discretion, security, help, you let us know."

She blinked, touched. "Thank you, Zak. Really."

He gave her a quiet nod and excused himself, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the soft fluttering movements of the twins within.

Outside, the cameras were already beginning to stir. Media vans, long lenses, voices echoing from beyond the villa's entrance.

Lando rejoined her later that morning, a box of pastries in one hand, the other reaching to press against the small of her back.

"We’re officially the headline couple," he murmured. "You okay with that?"

She leaned into his touch. "It was bound to happen. Better now than later."

He hesitated before adding, "Magui watched the race."

(Y/n) raised a brow. "How do you know?"

"I got a message. Just dots. No words. But... it was her."

A silence hung between them. Then (Y/n) exhaled and looked him square in the eye. "You ready for all of that too? The ghosts, the drama, the past?"

Lando didn’t waver. "I chose you. All of this. I’m not looking back."

She kissed him then, soft and sure, just as the twins gave a small kick between them.

Later, back in the room, as the windows flooded with morning light, (Y/n) sat at the vanity brushing her hair. Her phone buzzed. Carla.

No reply. Just a photo attachment: her on the grid, bump showing, Lando glancing at her like she was the only person there.

Then the text followed: Mother of the Grid. You're trending in Brazil.

She smiled. She hadn't planned on this life. But now that it was here, messy, public, joyful, terrifying,  she wouldn't change a thing.

To be continued... 🧡

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 32: ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘᴏᴛʟɪɢʜᴛ 🧡

📝 Note from the Author: Fourth post for today!! Yes, still scheduled. Yes, still somehow posting while drowning in schoolwork 🥲 Someone please remind me why I thought taking advanced electives and writing a multi-part AU at the same time was a good idea?? Anyway—

Thank you all for still reading this mess of a beautifully chaotic timeline 😭🧡 I’m seriously overwhelmed by your love for this AU.

✨ Quick Recap of What Just Went Down™️ ✨ – (Y/n) vs. Lando's snoring habits 😌💤 – Zak Brown making me cry with father-in-law energy 🥹 – Lando showing up with pastries like a man who knows peace offerings 🍩 – Magui... sending ominous dot messages like she’s in Morse code 👀 – Twins kicking just in time for dramatic emotional punctuation 🍼🍼 – Brazil officially adopting (Y/n) as their own 🇧🇷 #MotherOfTheGrid

Still more to come. The chaos is not done. Neither is the fluff. Or the drama. Stay tuned.

With love, me 🧡

[leafypaws1891]

Johnny chibi inspired by this JJBA baby romper

(More info under cut ⭐️)

Has anybody seen these before?? Srry if this is common knowledge that everybody knows about but I’VE never seen these before… and srry if nobody else cares but I love finding obscure merch of my favs

Apparently In 2013 Bandai released a series of baby clothes inspired by jojo characters and stands.

This includes a rompers and bibs based off of Jotaro, DIO, Iggy, Bucciarati, Johnny, and Gappy.

There were also just bibs inspired by Harvest, Pearl Jam, Killer Queen, Sex Pistols #5, and King Crimson

Here are all of the photos:

I don’t know what Iggy, Gappy and Bruno’s bibs are saying…… DIO and Jotaro’s are just their stand cries I think, and I’m pretty sure Johnny’s is saying something like “this is the story of how I learned to walk” (which is fitting for a baby I guess) anybody feel free to correct me if I’m wrong!

I would honestly pay some good money for the Johnny romper just so I could dress up some of my larger plushies, but I’ve never heard of this line of merch before and I couldn’t find any eBay listings so my chances might not be too good 😔

I think all of the soft colors that they used are really cute and nice to look at. I really love Gappy’s romper, I wouldn’t be mad if they used them for his anime colors…

Anyways, do what you will with this info, I just wanted to yap and share my findings with others! 🩵⭐️

(All images except for my drawing were taken off of the Jojo wiki)

~

(ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!! ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 I’m not sure if I’ll have time to draw something pride related within the month but we’ll see…)

[red-moon-at-night]

okay the whole vase is great but something about Helen sitting on Aphrodite's lap as she wraps one arm around her shoulder and brushes her leg with her hand, staring into her eyes like that... as she is persuading Helen to go with Paris (while Peitho aka persuasion stands behind them) is so incredibly iconic.

and gay. toxic yuri, if you will.

[dontworrybabymp3]

I want people to understand that I'm here to create for them. To create music for people so they'll know that I'm a source of love. And they can depend on my name. — Brian Wilson

[twstinginthewind]

It took me a whole day, but I had to give Nightmare Trey his matching Joker. They deserve to make Halloween Town sweet together!

(special thanks to @the-trinket-witch and @bunnwich my Halloween wi(t)ches bc even tho I didn't use the assets you guys did I still appreciate them 🧡🧡🧡)

[kataracy]

Kataang Week 2024 DAY 1 // Cultural Sharing

“I’m nervous. Am I doing okay?”

“You’re doing amazing Sweetie.”

[sunsetsandsunshine]

Hey!! For your next fic could you do Leo and Mikey angst

It came be 2012, MM or rise

~ 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 ~

💙🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @tmntalways 💙🐢🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚒, 𝚃𝚞𝚛𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍!!! 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚋𝚛𝚘 ☹️💔…𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 💖💕💘💞🩷!!! 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝 𝙸’𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 😅👍🏾! 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚍— 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🫠…˚*• ̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛��: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟸𝟾𝟾

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍…𝚞𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚣𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 '𝚞𝚗'. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕? 𝙷𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚐𝚘 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢…

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @someone1348 @saturnzskyzz

@savemeafruitjuice @rice-cake-teen10 @mistyandsnow

@skyloladoodles @itzsana-kiddingmenow @titters-and-tingles

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚖𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝…𝚋𝚞𝚝 *𝙰𝙷𝙴𝙼* 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚖𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢! 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝙿𝙻𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙴 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚔!!!

𝚁𝙴𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁: 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙰𝙳𝙷𝙳 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌!!! 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 ☺️💞💗💓💕

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 🕺🏾✨💞🎶˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Mikey couldn’t do anything right now. Like…anything.

Well…perhaps he was being a bit too dramatic. He was breathing. And he was fidgeting with his squishy cube. So saying he wasn’t doing 'anything' wasn’t entirely true.

Right now he just…couldn’t do anything…productive. 

For example, the box turtle tried making his favorite dishes and deserts! But that endeavor just ended up being a huge mess in the kitchen…and leaving the youngest turtle with a bunch of unappetizing food. 

Which he fed all to Raph by the way. 

Some would call that choice of action cruel but Mikey would just call it 'using his resources'. 

Besides, it’s not like the eldest minded at all. He said, and I quote: 'It has a nice…crunchy feeling to it. Did you put some of Don’s inventions in this?'

Which honestly got a couple of chuckles out of the smallest turtle teen of the bunch.

Then, Mikey tried skateboarding! But for once in all his 14 years of living…it was just utterly boring. 

And after all of that nonsense, Mikey then finally tried reading a comic…but he was too unfocused to even get to the second page…

But what was really new? Mikey could never focus on jackshit even if said jackshit hit him right in the shell. 

His brothers and sister would always have to remind him to stay focused or 'not do this' or 'not do that'.

For example, a couple days ago Donnie had to kindly remind the box turtle (well…as kindly as Donnie could be anyway…) to brush his teeth.

To. Brush. His. Fucking. Teeth. 

And honestly? Having to be reminded to do that was really embarrassing. And the orange banded teen knew his brother didn’t mean to humiliate him internally…but…yeah.

And it’s not like the softshell was wrong either! The youngest turtle just couldn’t freaking accept that he himself couldn’t do such a simple task in the morning. 

But literally every task he completely fails to do is just utterly simple ones!

Like cleaning his room or not forgetting things or even keeping track of time! 

…And the sad part about all of it was Mikey just honestly could not understand how his family haven’t gotten sick of his annoying tendencies…

And let’s be for real here…that was basically all of his tendencies. 

The box turtle groaned loudly in his room, slamming his whole body on his bed as he screamed into his pillow. 

There had to be something he could do instead of just wallowing in his own self pity…

And one of those options could not consist of bothering his family with his random bad mood. They had to put up with him 24/7…the least he could do was give them some space.

The youngest then glanced at his drawing notebook hopefully…

…One little sketch of something random wouldn’t hurt, right?

The amber eyed teen reached for his notebook, grabbing a pen from his drawer as he started to sketch his desk because why the absolute fuck not? Based on the objects he’s drawn in the past…sketching a simple desk should and will be easy, right? Right. 

That was until the orange banded teen’s pencil tip broke. But it was fine! He could just re-sharpen it, right? Right.

That was until the youngest realized he had absolutely no clue where his sharpener was due to the fact his room looked like a pig stie. And there was no way he was looking for it in…that whole situation. 

…The situation he created in the first place. 

Michelangelo layed on his bed with his face staring at the ceiling in frustration, he ran his fingernails along his arms, not making really deep cuts with them but going deep enough for it to hurt a bit.

Like a reasonable turtle would, Mikey should probably get one of his stress toys…or better yet, another pencil!

But let’s be for real here…he’d most likely find a way to fuck that up too.

Suddenly, there was a small, quiet knock on Mikey’s door but…in all honesty? He just wanted to crawl into his shell and sob for the next hour and a half. Letting out a niiiiice and quick 'come in' would take way too much energy. 

The box turtle let out a soft grunt, letting whoever was on the other side know it was a-okay to come in.

Abruptly, Leo peeked in the room, a wide smile plastered on his face as he closed the door, “Damn, Mikester…it looks like every single natural disaster went through your room…”

“I’m cleaning it.” The youngest grumbled to his brother.

“Really? You sure about that, little bro? Because if my memory serves me correct (which it in-fact does), you said that last week. And the week before that…and the week before—“

“I SAID I’M FUCKING CLEANING IT!!!” The orange banded turtle snapped, sitting up on the bed to glare at his immediate older brother before slowly realizing what he just did. 

The youngest’s heart dropped as he looked away from his brother. The orange banded mutant’s eyed widened as silent and small tears ran down his face. He covered his mouth as his other hand turned to a fist, his nails unforgivingly digging into his palm.

“I-I’m sorry…I’m s-sorry…I-I’m so s-sorry…!” He started, rocking himself back and forth before stopping as he was met with a warm embrace. Leonardo hugged him gently but firmly, rubbing the other’s shell in a comforting hold. “Woah woah…! Bud, you have nothing to apologize for…” The slightly older teen said as he rested his chin on the top of his baby brother’s head.

“L-Like h-hell I don’t. I-I just screamed a-at y-you for no reason…” Michelangelo wobbly said. “You were just trying to lighten the mood but I just had to make everything harder like I-I always do…!” 

“Mikey—”

“I-I always do this. I-I’m so f-fucking s-sorry Leo…”

“Mikester…I-I appreciate the apology but it seriously isn’t necessary—”

“You’re probably so sick of me and so angry at me. I-I’m sorry I just—”

“Mikey!” Leo gently yelled to get the other’s attention, squeezing the smaller turtle’s hands as he stared straight at him with pleading eyes. “Do I look mad?”

“…N-No.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“…No.” 

The second youngest sadly smiled, “So what are you apologizing for, hm?”

“…I-I…dunno…I-I just…I just felt I needed to apologize…” The box turtle mumbled as he looked at his hands. The blue banded turtle sighed, slowly getting out of the hug so him and his little brother faced each other. The slider rubbed the other turtle’s palm with his thumb comfortingly, “…Do you wanna talk about it, baby bro?”

The leader in blue was just met with silence…which he could honestly work with.

“Angelo…you know you can tell me…anything, right? Like…anything. Although, it doesn’t have to be me you talk to about it. It could be Raph or Don or April or even Dad or Draxum! I just…don’t want you sitting here and bottling up the way you feel…” 

Silence. Leo continued.

“You’re always there when we need you, Angel. Whether it’s to vent or to just ramble about shit, you’re just…always there. We don’t tell you this enough but we appreciate you always being someone we can lean on…”

Silence. Leo continued.

“But…you do know you can lean on us too, right? Comfort goes both ways and I can see you’re hurting, buddy. So please…if you need to talk to me…I’m right here.”

Mikey sniffled, squeezing Leo’s hand, “I-I d-dunno. Today is just…weird. This whole week has just been…weird.” Leo nodded, giving his brother his full undivided attention, “How so?”

“I just…haven’t been able to do anything…” The smaller teen admitted.

“What do you mean?” The taller teen inquired. 

“I haven’t been able to do…anything. Like, I can’t draw, cook or even skateboard! Me!!! Not being able to skateboard— isn’t that crazy?!” The amber eyed turtle laughed bitterly.

“And it’s not like I can’t do it. I’m perfectly freaking capable of doing it in the right amount of time I want but my brain just. won’t. let. me!” 

“I keep procrastinating and not doing the stuff I want to do and I have no idea why! I’m tired of just putting things off and being this way! I want to do things without having to ask you guys for help or to remind me or to relate it with a hyperfixation that I have!” Mikey hiccuped, a new wave of tears rolling down his face as his hands shook. 

The amber eyed teen sniffled, refusing to look at his immediate older brother at all right now because…holy shit he just overshared a whole lot…

Like…a whoooooooooole freaking lot.

“…That sounds like you.” Leonardo shrugged. 

In a state of just shock and confusion, the box turtle pulled his hands away from his brother, looking up at him as lime green eyes met amber ones. “I…what…?” Michelangelo murmured.

“I said that sounds like you.” Leo said again casually as Mikey glared at him, “Yeah. I heard what you said but that isn’t helpful.”

“I’m just being honest with you, Mikester.” Leo said, “Just…let me explain, okay?”

“…You have five minutes before I kick you out of my room.” 

“Deal.” The lime green eyed mutant commented, “You can’t draw, cook or skateboard right now. You’re procrastinating and not doing the stuff you want to do in the time you planned…is that correct?” 

Michelangelo sent deathly daggers to his brother— which the other wasn’t phased by at all. This time was probably the best time to crawl in his own shell and just sob his eyes out because what kind of dumbass question was his dumbass brother asking him?!

“…Yes.” The orange banded teen mumbled. 

“And…why are those bad things?” 

“WHY?!” The box turtle huffed out a laugh of annoyance, “Pfft— you’re asking me why. Maybe it’s because it’s annoying?! Maybe because it’s frustrating to deal with and I don’t want to burden you guys with my problems?! Maybe because I don’t want to fucking feel or be this way?!” The youngest shouted, breathing heavily as he finished his rant. 

The box turtle looked away again, silently cursing at himself for getting annoyed so easily. “Mikey.” Leo started again, “Your being too hard on yourself, okay? No one is expecting you to be at your 100% all the time.” 

“What you just described to me; you being able to not focus or you getting bored easily or procrastinating with stuff is…literally you. You’re just being you.” The slider explained as he held his baby brother’s hand in his. “And I get it. It’s hard to deal with it sometimes and it’s going to be hella frustrating. Like…super borderline frustrating. But you can’t shun them away and just…try to ignore them, bubs…”

“Let’s take moi for example. I’m impulsive, I talk loud and lose things daily. Those three things don’t make up my whole personality but it would be super weird and off-putting if I just…didn’t do or have those three things, right?” 

The youngest giggled wetly, “Yeah…it would. A-And by the way, I’m still waiting for you to find that glittery pen kit I gave you…”

Leonardo groaned loudly and dramatically, causing the other teen to giggle louder, “I’m looking for it, okay?! It’s in my room…somewhere.” The taller mutant mused, “But anyways…back to you. You procrastinate, you relate things to your hyperfixations and you can’t do some of your favorite tasks from time to time…those are some traits that make up you, is it not?” 

Mikey sniffled, rolling his eyes playfully due to the fact he knew damn well where this was going, “Yeah…” 

Leo smiled softly, seeing his younger brother was starting to get his point, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, okay? I know sometimes it’s hard to deal with the things you described but you have us for that.” He said as his smile turned to a grin. 

“You can come to me— to us— anytime. We love you for who you are…your flaws and all and we just…I-I need you to know that we love you so so much—!” The slider was cut off by a sudden abrupt embrace from the box turtle. The orange banded teen sobbed into the other’s shoulder, clutching the taller turtle like a lifeline. 

“T-Thank you…” The box turtle wobbly said through tears.  

“Of course, Angel.” Leo said as he hugged his baby brother back, “I love you.” He said as he kissed the other teen on the head.

“I-I l-love you too…”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Tell your thoughts to shut up.” Leo said as he lightly poked Mikey in the forehead numerous times. The two were sitting on the box turtle’s bed just simply…relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. Michelangelo was sitting in between his older brother’s legs as he had his shell to his brother’s plastron.

Leonardo hugged his brother protectively, resting his chin on the top of the box turtle’s head. “What do you mean?” The youngest giggled out. “I can hear your thoughts, man. You’re not bothering me or disturbing me in any way, shape or form, alright…?” 

The amber eyed turtle nodded, squeezing Leo’s hand, “Y-Yeah…I know...” 

“I’m choosing to be here because I love you. I don’t feel obligated to be here, okay? You’re not annoying and you, neither your problems are a burden…okay?” The slider said reassuringly, “It’s okay to ask us for help…and we don’t mind reminding you to do things…okay?” 

“You’ve said ‘okay’ like, fifty times…”

“Mikey.” 

“Mhm…yeah yeah…I gotcha…”

The elder looked at his brother skeptically, resting his chin on his little brother’s shoulder so they made solid eye contact, “I want you to say it.” 

“…Say what exactly?”

“I want you to say that you are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” 

“You are an amazing person and you don’t need to change a single thing about yourself.” Michelangelo grinned smugly. Leonardo glared at the youngest’s interpretation to his statement, “Mikey, you know exactly what I meant.” 

“I said what you wanted me to say…so…” The amber eyed teen trailed off.

“Michelangelo.” The slider said in a warning tone as he poked the other’s side. The box turtle squeaked at the unexpected touch, trying to stop his immediate older brother from doing it again but his brother had a strong but gentle grip on him…

Then the smallest turtle came to recognition that he was stuck in a potential tickle hug with no way out…

…How wonderful. 

“L-Leeheeo…doohoo nahat.” The orange banded mutant warned through his giggles, said warning not seeming too threatening due to the fact he was already laughing up a storm. The leader in blue raised a brow, poking the other’s side repeatedly, “I just want you to repeat what I said…in the first person.” The taller teen specified.

The smaller turtle squirmed in the hug, small frantic giggles pouring out of his mouth. This…really wasn’t how he was expecting his day to go. Just about an hour ago, he was wallowing in sadness about the stuff he hated about himself, to talking about it with his brother, to now getting tickled by his brother.

…So could he really complain about how things turned out?

…Yes. Yes, he absolutely could.  

“Leeheeon! Plehease dohon’t!” The youngest squealed as one of his brother’s hands hovered over his stomach. Mikey held onto the other’s wrists, trying to stop his elder brother from tickling him but his small attempts ending up to be all for nothing as Leo effortlessly tickled his stomach with one hand.

“LEEHEEHAHAHA!!” Michelangelo laughed wholeheartedly, swatting at his brother’s arms. The lime green eyed turtle cooed at the gesture, now using both of his hands to attack the youngest’s plastron, “D'aww…look at you giggling your head off~! You’re my adorable little bundle of amazingness, aren’t you~?”

The smaller teen shook his head, a faint blush appearing on his face, “STAHA— squeal N-NAHAHA!”

“What~? What was that?” The blue banded mutant asked as he kneaded the box turtle’s hips. “GYAHAH— squeal SHIHIHIT! COHOME OHAHAN!!!” The amber eyed turtle cried frantically as he kicked his legs on the mattress slightly. 

The youngest squealed with laughter, curling in on himself as he slumped in his big brother’s hold. Leonardo just sighed fondly at the action, wrapping the other in another hug as he raspberried his neck. “LEEHEEHEE!! PLAHAH— squeak NAHAHAT THEHERE squeak PLEHEASE PLEHEASE— squeak!!!”

“Not there~?” The elder lightly mocked, “What about…here~?” He mused as he used his hands to scribble all over the younger turtle’s ribs. Mikey cackled, shaking his head to try and at least subside the tickly feelings.

“NAHAHA— squeal AHAHAHA!! NAHAHAT THEHEHERE EHE— squeal EHEHEITHER!!! LEEHEEO!!” The orange banded turtle squeaked as Leo stopped for a second, “I’ve tried sooooo many spots, buddy! How many times are you gonna say not there, hm?”

Mikey genuinely squawked louder than a firefighter siren, squirming so much it looked like he was actually being electrocuted. “PLEHEHAHA LEEHEEO NAHAHAT THEHEHE RIHIHIBS!!!” He cackled. 

“Not the riiiibs~? Why~? Is it because it’s your tickle spot~? Your tickletickletickle spot~? Because you’re ticklish~?” Leonardo asked as he lightly nibbled the crook of Mikey’s neck. 

Michelangelo screamed in laughter, scrunching up his shoulders as he dug his heels on the bed, a couple of his plushies sadly falling on the floor (R.I.P. man…) “EEEHEEHEEP!!! S-STAHAP BEEHEEING MEEHEAN!” Mikey said as he thrashed on the bed. 

The slider said nothing, his hands sneaking up to the box turtle’s underarms. “AAAAHAHAHA! OHO NOHOHO— squeak SHIT! SHIHIHAHAT!”

Happy tears slowly begin to appear in the smallest teen’s eyes, he weakly hit Leo’s arms as a last attempt to be set free, “LEHEHEMME squeal GOHOHOHO!” 

“Ohonly if you sahay it, bubs.” 

“IHIHI— SQUEAK!! LEEHEEHEEON!!!” 

“Yeeeees, baby brother~?” The elder dragged out as he kneaded the other’s hips.

“IHI’LL SAHAY IHIHAT I-IHIHI’LL SAHAHAY IHIT!!” The amber eyed teen squealed. 

“And you promise not to be a sassy little shit about it~?” The older teen asked.

“SQUEAK YEHAHAHA— SQUEAK YEHES YEHES I-I PROHOHOMISE!” 

Leo stopped tickling his little brother, hugging him protectively as the youngest caught his breath slowly but surely. “W-Wahait…whahat squeak wahas ihihat yohou eeheeven wahanted me squeak to sahay again?” 

The taller turtle pondered for a bit, thinking to himself before loudly groaning, “That’s…a good damn question. I don’t really remember exactly what I wanted you to say in the first place…” The lime green eyed turtle sighed, “Forgetfulness at its finest...” 

The red eared slider adjusted himself, making sure the other was comfortable before starting to speak again, “Well…based on what we talked about…could you maybe just…y'know…” Leo gestured with his hands before groaning, “Do you get what I’m trying to say, man?” 

“…I thihink I have ahan idea…” Mikey giggled as he fiddled with his hands, “I shouldn’t beat myself up so much because of some of my traits or quirks. And I’m allowed to feel frustrated and/or upset because things don’t go my way because of them. But…I shouldn’t allow those things to put me down...”

Michelangelo smiled softly, rubbing his palm with his thumb, “They don’t define me as a person but they make me a person. I don’t need to be at my best 100% and I’m allowed to have bad days. And if things get too overwhelming or difficult I can just go to you guys.” 

Mikey hugged himself, letting out a small laugh as his happy tears welled up in his eyes, “I’m just…being me. And there’s nothing wrong with that.” Leonardo teared up at his brother’s words, hugging him tighter than he ever had before and burying his face at the back of the youngest’s head.

“Never forget that, Miguelito…never forget that.” 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[kindheartedgummybears]

mmmmrrrpppphhhh................. Molly-Beth......... grrrrrrrrrrrr.............. O'Shadie..................... mmmmmmmmmmmmm............ O'Shones................ raaaaaaaaaahhhh....... Sapphic Molly..........

[imaswellkid]

Favorite things tag game 🌈🎡🧡

Tysm for the tag, my dearest @obiknights 🧡 I always enjoy learning more about you.

Favorite color: exactly these:

Currently reading: PUNK Goes HORROR: A Mixtape Anthology, and loving it.

Last song: Blue Monday, New Order.

Most recent film: The Phoenician Scheme, Wes Anderson (although I did watch the Star Wars OT, my beloved, this weekend heehee)

Most recent series: Daredevil Born Again. Quite unsurprisingly, I still have a big fat crush on Frank Castle, Jeeeezus this man.

Sweet/salty/savory: Savory!

Tea or coffee: coffee. I don't dislike tea, but coffee is life, I have spoken.

Working on: surviving 2025!

NP tags: @pedrit0-pascalit0 @dreamymyrrh @julesonrecord @almostfoxglove @just-here-for-the-moment @whatsnewalycat @bergamote-catsandbooks @secretelephanttattoo @nicolethered @angiewatson @artemiseamoon @76bookworm76 @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain @jeewrites @jessthebaker @5oh5 @yourcoolauntie and anyone who wants to share!

[alarwynnwhispers]

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 27: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴅᴅᴏᴄᴋ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀ 🧡

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴏɴɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ꜱᴄʀᴜᴛɪɴʏ

ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ɪɴ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛʀɪᴍᴇꜱᴛᴇʀ (ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴡɪɴꜱ)

ᴍɪʟᴅ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ (ᴋɪᴄᴋɪɴɢ, ᴛɪʀᴇᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ, ʟᴇɢ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ)

ᴅɪꜱᴄᴜꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɴᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴄᴄᴏᴍᴍᴏᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴠᴜʟɴᴇʀᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ (ᴀᴅᴊᴜꜱᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ᴠɪꜱɪʙɪʟɪᴛʏ, ᴡᴀʀᴍᴛʜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ)

ɪɴᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ (ᴘᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʙᴀʙʏ ᴋɪᴄᴋꜱ, ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ɢᴇꜱᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ)

ᴘᴀᴘᴀʀᴀᴢᴢɪ ᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʀʏ ᴏɴ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀɪᴛʏ ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ

Three weeks passed since Silverstone, but the impact still lingered like tire marks on the track.

Everywhere they went, someone was watching.

Whether it was the polite stares in hotel lobbies or the whispered gasps in airports, (Y/n) had grown used to the spotlight. It wasn’t just her anymore. It was the bump. The twins. The fact that she no longer trailed behind Lando unnoticed but stood right beside him, seen, acknowledged, and protected.

Austria arrived with a crisp alpine breeze and a sky so clear it almost felt curated. Red Bull Ring buzzed with energy. The hills around Spielberg were already alive with fans, flags, and fluttering papaya-orange shirts. But what surprised her most was how quickly the paddock had adjusted to her presence.

(Y/n) stepped out of the car, hand gently bracing her lower belly. Her bump was no longer a question. It was a statement.

Lando offered his arm instinctively, helping her down. “Take it slow.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I’m pregnant, not glass.”

“Pregnant with twins,” he reminded her.

Her reply was a smirk, but she didn’t argue.

Zak Brown met them at the McLaren motorhome entrance, his tone warmer than usual. “Room’s ready for you upstairs, couch, quiet corner, anything you need. And the chef knows your preferences this time.”

“Even the papaya juice?” she teased.

Zak chuckled. “Lando made sure it was non-negotiable.”

Inside, the team greeted her like one of their own. There was no awkwardness anymore, just warm familiarity. A few mechanics even offered her fist bumps, and one handed her a tiny McLaren onesie they’d customized during the break. (Y/n) laughed, touched beyond words.

Later that day, after the media rounds, Lando returned to the motorhome and found her curled up on the corner couch, sipping water, legs elevated as ordered.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing his knuckles against her knee.

She looked up at him, a soft glow behind tired eyes. “The babies are kicking a lot today. Think they’re ready for lights out and five red lights.”

“Already got the racer genes,” he grinned.

She rolled her eyes but reached for his hand, guiding it to the center of her bump.

A solid nudge. Then another.

He stilled, lips parting. “That was...”

“Both of them,” she whispered.

He knelt beside her and pressed a kiss to her stomach, right where he felt the movement. “Hey, easy in there, yeah? We’ve got time.”

Outside, a few camera flashes popped from the far end of the paddock, long lenses trying to catch a glimpse of the woman who had somehow softened the grid’s most unpredictable driver. But inside, all was still.

She was his calm. And now, their twins were part of the noise too.

And Austria was just beginning.

To be continued... 🧡

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 28: ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀᴠᴇ 🧡

📝 Note from the Author: Sixth and final post for today, I know, I’ve spoiled you all. But this Austria chapter just felt too warm, too soft not to share before logging off. (Y/n) being embraced by the team? A custom McLaren onesie?? And the twins kicking during race week? That’s legacy in motion 🧡

Lando kneeling at her bump like it’s the most sacred thing in the world? Yeah, I cried writing that. Don’t look at me.

Thank you for being here through every post today. We’re just getting started with this arc, and I already can’t wait to show you what comes next. For now… Rest well, stay soft, and keep loving loudly.

With love, me 🧡

[the-kingshound]

To Survive The King's Harem is like being a maid in a fantasy game, only that you died and got transmitted into the world of the game and become either a servant or knight who serves the Consort and has the most opportunity to may or may not witnessing Arthur and the rest of his harem (the ROs) getting obsessed with MC, and may or may not have the opportunity to fall in love with one of The Round Table's knight, The High Mage (Merlin), The Witch (Morgana). Your duty is to serve the Consort, make sure no one will be harm to them. But before that, here's your most important duty... Do what it means to SURVIVE.

On the other hand, To Hide The Royals' Love Affair is like a more funnier version and that you're the one who follow MC all the way to Camelot. As the Consort's royal servant for years, your have to make sure the Consort, never ever doubt themselves. As such, you'll have to find a way to help the Consort to get out of their shell, just as you used to, further determine who to trust, investigate the King for your Consort, determine who to trust or not to. But more importantly... You'll have to find out a way to overturn the grand scheme that may bring shame to your Consort, even when the King's reliable enough to take care of it.

This... I LOVE THIS OMG ANON

[intheorangebedroom]

More than a feeling

Summary: you like to sing. Frankie likes it too. Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader. Rating: Explicit fluff 🔞  Word count: 570ish A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, Orange besties 🧡

One thing for certain, an absolute, indisputable fact, is that Frankie loves to hear you sing. 

Sometimes, a classic rock tune you like comes out on the crackling grocery store speakers, and you start singing along out loud, completely unabashed, as you browse the aisles with him. He downright puffs up his chest with pride. Bites down a dimpled smile, he doesn't always know why. You make him so fucking soft… Nobody else needs to know that. 

On Sunday mornings, when he’s cooking breakfast while you’re showering, he tunes in to that radio station you like, and if he’s lucky enough, a song will come out that’ll propel you out of the bedroom halfway through dressing. You’ll dance into the living-room, wearing only his t-shirt, your panties and a sock, hollering over the music and playing air drums, a show that’s not even for his benefit but for your sole enjoyment. But he’ll be damned if that’s not the kind of moment he lives for.

Most often, you quietly hum, absentmindedly, going about the house, doing your stuff. He’ll immediately perk up his ears, pausing whatever it is he’s doing, and just listen. Gaze drifting, a smile tugging the corner of his plush lips. Shoulders dropping from the perpetual tension that pulls them taut. You’re the only one who can do that to him. 

You’re not always on tune, far from it. You don’t always remember the lyrics, not precisely, but your singing voice triggers something in him. Something warm and heavy, something that lives and thrives. A feeling that blooms inside his chest, the sensation fringing on pain, with the way his heart swells, tight against his ribcage. 

It’s the cheerful testimony to what he provides you with -a sense of safety. 

It’s the expression of what you give him in return -your trust. 

But the real treat is when you’re driving together, sitting side by side on the bench seat of his old truck. In the cozy warmth of the cab. Moving through the world, but remote from it, tucked away together, time suspended, irrelevant. That’s when he likes it best.

The music wrapping around the two of you, slightly distorted by the antique cassette player, it sounds like a bike ride after homework, like the last summer sunset, like endless afternoons and his whole life before him. Like a time when he didn’t know you yet but was already looking for you. Like a hopeful sensation after waking from a bittersweet dream. 

He’ll steal sideways glances in your direction as you sing your lungs out, practically dancing in your seat, or tapping your thumbs on the wheel, if you’re driving. 

He’ll relish the moment. Before it turns into something else, something that’s even more, when the whole of your life together becomes greater than the sum of all of its parts.

When he’s finally inside you. When you’re writhing in his hold, melting under his touch. When your taste’s on his tongue and the scent of you heady, when your tight, dripping cunt flutters along his cock. When your throat thrums under his lips and your voice fills his ears, replacing all his thoughts, resonating through his entire fucking chest as you moan and keen and plead. 

Frankie, Frankie, Frankie. 

His name tumbling from your lips, cried out or whispered, as he coaxes release after release from your trembling body. That’s his favourite song of yours. That’s the one he’ll never tire of hearing you sing.