#short answer to your question: yes and yes

[bitteriekitten]

kisses for the mama.

synopsis — the l&ds finding out and meeting your baby for the first time.

content — fem!reader, singlemom!reader, fluff, angst, babies, you have a daughter (twin daughters in sylus's) in all fics and she has no set age (i have no concept of how old babies can begin speaking in full sentences and express themselves authentically. so.), mentions and implications of the ff: death, weapons, toxic relationships, toxic baby-daddies, emotional abuse, abandonment, illnesses, hospital visits, and probably so many more that i've overlooked. lmk if i missed anything !!!

featuring — xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, & caleb (separate fics)

notes — that poll i made was def interesting... everyone has baby fever huh.. yknow what me too 😔 but IMO writing this in jus one sitting is honestly better than going out and actually getting a baby. this was unproofread bcs i'm tired and in this house we rawdog everything. and yes, the baby names came from katseye members SUE ME their recent single slaps so good idgaf

Xavier didn't question it when you would be so eager to get home by 6 P.M. everyday. he felt that he was the same exact way, speeding through the work day like he was going to be late for his bed.

but he was surprised to find you waiting near a popular daycare center in linkon. he happened to be passing by the street to get to jeremiah's shop when he noticed you. still in full uniform, you kneeled by the door and waved to someone inside the building with a tired but excited smile.

xavier froze on his spot when a little girl speeds out of the door and into your arms. the girl looked like a smaller version of you, with the addition of small dimples and hair in short pig-tails. she squealed excitedly as you stood up with her in your embrace, her little arms wrapped around your neck, refusing to let go.

it was then the little girl's eyes spotted xavier that he realized he was blatantly staring. before he could move away from you undetected, you had already turned around and locked eyes with your co-worker. two similar-looking faces stared at him, one in shock and one in confusion.

"oh- xavier, hey-" you stammered as the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand.

"hi." xavier replied, unsure of what to say. the little girl's eyes, unblinking, turned to you. at such a young age, she already knew how to raise her eyebrow.

"mama, who that?" she whispered, loud enough for xavier to hear.

you kissed her temple, "a friend from work, my love." you replied simply. much to his surprise, you walked towards xavier, to which the little girl tightened her arms around you in caution.

"xavier, this is lara." you said, running your free hand over her head and back. "my... daughter."

xavier smiled and bent down to meet lara's eyes. "hi, lara," he said. "i'm xavier, i'm your mom's friend from work."

lara stuck out her little arm at him, and it took him a second to realize she wanted to shake his hand. xavier chuckled, but complied anyway, her hand barely wrapping around his finger as he shook it once.

"you fight wanderrrrs like mama?" she asked pointedly.

"yes, i do." xavier replied with a grin.

xavier abandoned all his plans with jeremiah that afternoon, sticking by your side - or really, lara's side. the train ride home was quiet, save for lara's hundreds of questions for xavier, who answered her with utmost sincerity.

xavier learned that lara liked to speak in incomplete sentences and disregarded syllables altogether, creating her own unique vocabulary just because she could. she also liked to cling to your uniform like a tiny koala, but smied at anybody who she thinks would smile back.

in just a matter of minutes, she somehow already had xavier wrapped around her stubby fingers.

"mr. shaver, i wanna hunter-rer like you and mama."

you giggled as lara finally managed to pick up xavier's name, albeit a bit wonkily with her current speaking skill. but xavier didn't mind - he likes it. he loves it.

"yeah? you wanna be big and strong like your mama and i?" he asked.

"mhm. but i don't want boom-boom." lara sighed dramatically. she covered her ears with her tiny palms and quickly took them off, "hurt ears."

xavier didn't miss the way your smile faltered, and how your arms cradled the back of her head. his lips pursed together, his chest tightening at the sight - at the thought of you struggling with a baby under your wing.

"it's okay, my love. you don't have to use boom-boom." you replied, trying to keep your voice leveled. lara, adorably unaware, leaned further into your affection.

"mama sleepy." she declared with a big yawn. you began patting her back comfortingly. "okay, just sleep, love. i'll wake you up when you get home." you said.

lara quickly dozed off with her head smushed against your chest, your heartbeat lulling her to sleep. xavier glanced up at you, eyes softening at your expression.

"are you alright?" he asked cautiously, scooting closer to you on the train seat.

"...yes." you replied after a moment, running a hand over your mouth. "it's just... i wasn't expecting her to say that."

it was clear that there was something underneath your tone, behind the eyes that held only love and protection over your daughter. xavier remained silent, because maybe that's what you needed from him.

"i caught her dad at our old house with my gun." you said quietly. xavier's jaw clenched and his heart skipped a beat, eyes looking over your daughter with alert and distraught. you sighed to yourself and pulled lara impossibly close.

"she was asleep inside her bed, and he just... i dunno, he came home from the bar that night completely drunk. he was right outside her door and i just- i lost it." you whimpered.

xavier did not hesitate to wrap an arm around your shoulder, pulling you and lara into his chest. "you're here now." he told you firmly, finality lacing his voice and spreading onto his hold over the both of you. "he's not here anymore, and i'll make sure of it."

the walk back to the apartment was easier, where lara's laughter resounded the halls of the building as she rode on xavier's shoulders up to your floor. xavier, with his iron grip over your daughter's legs, mimicked the sounds of a rocket ship flying over space as he took her on a galactic adventure.

they walked on before you, with you following behind them with a fond smile and a fond heart.

Zayne, like any other person, didn't prefer to work late. but it was getting impossible to finish his workload by the end of the work day, so he's been chained to his desk inside his office at ungodly hours.

it was 3 in the morning when he'd gone out of his office to get himself a cup of hot cocoa, when he spotted you by the vending machines. he rushed over to you, surprised to see you at akso hospital at this hour. hearing his hurried footsteps, you turned around just as you picked up your snacks.

your eyes widened as he quickly approached you. "y/n? what're you doing here? are you hurt?" he asked, his eyes poring over your figure, frantically searching for any injuries.

"dr. zayne! uh-" you gulped. zayne's heart pounded - he couldn't find what was wrong. you were in your pajamas, your eyes bleary and hair in disarray, but you didn't seem to be in any pain or discomfort.

"what're you here for? did something happen?"

"i-i'm fine, but..." you cleared your throat, scratching the back of your neck. "um, m-my daughter caught that stomach bug that's been plaguing over the schools this season."

zayne must've heard wrong, "daughter?"

"yes. my daughter, manon." you awkwardly replied, the snacks in your hands crumpling. "she's been vomiting non-stop at home and she just got that fever hours ago - i was just overwhelmed, i didn't know what else to do." you said, your voice becoming watery by the second.

"no, no - you did the right thing by bringing her here." zayne quickly reassured you, pulling you into his arms for a tight embrace. you took a moment to hug him back, your arms wrapping around his waist tightly. you let out a long shaky sigh against his chest as he patted your back gently.

you were the first to pull back from his embrace, wiping away the stray tears that clouded your vision. "w-would you like to meet her?" you asked, "i promised to get her some snacks - she was complaining about the fish you served here."

zayne chuckled, "of course. lead the way."

after a short trip down an empty hallway and into one of the private rooms, zayne watched as you gently woke manon up from her sleep. the little girl, with eyes and smile shaped the same way as her mother's, instantly spotted zayne standing by the doorway. she looked at him in confusion, then back at you, "mama, who's that?" she asked, voice weak.

you smiled at zayne and turned back to your daughter, "that's dr. zayne, love. he's my friend at the hospital."

zayne closed the door behind him and walked over to manon's bed with a small smile. "hello, manon. i'm dr. zayne. how are you feeling?"

"my tummy doesn't hurt anymore." she deadpanned, pointing to her stomach hidden underneath the bedsheets. zayne nodded, "that's impressive. you should eat right now, though - you must be starving."

manon nodded and you moved to give her the snacks you got from the vending machines.

your daughter was dozing off again in a few minutes, thankfully without any other complications. you took the granola bar from her grip and carefully adjusted her head onto her pillow, cleaning off the crumbs from the corner of her lip. you moved to stand by the window with a heavy sigh, zayne following beside you.

for a while, it was silent between the both of you, watching manon sleep without fussing or being in pain for once. zayne awkwardly cleared his throat, "if you don't mind me asking, where is manon's father?"

you smiled, albeit bitterly, "probably high in some casino right now." you replied. zayne's frown deepened as he crossed his arms, "i know - it was stupid. he was an old classmate that i happened to catch at a bar, and one thing led to another..."

you rubbed a hand over your face, "i tried to make it work with that bastard, i really did. but he just left and -" you cut yourself off with a deep sigh. you breathed out slowly, to which zayne stepped closer to you with his arms wrapping around your figure once again.

"it's alright. i'm here now." he whispered into your ear. surrounded by his endless warmth, you crumpled into tears, digging your face into his shoulder as you cried. zayne hummed, looking up onto the white ceiling, willing to do whatever it takes to take away your pain. to take away the suffering you endured to keep manon happy.

Rafayel was astonished to find out that, even after months of you working for him as his bodyguard, he still had a lot of things to learn about you.

save for instance, the tiny girl standing in front of him in his studio that looks a little too much like you. she had on a bright pink beret on her head and her hands tightly gripped an octopus plushie, the one that he remembered winning for you at the arcade. she shyly smiled up at rafayel, a smile that had him second-guessing himself. was he dreaming, and has finally met his daughter that looked exactly like you?

you stood beside her, your smile mimicking hers. you nudged the girl gently, "say hi, baby." you told her.

"hello, mr. rafayel! i'm megan. i really like your paintings." the girl greeted cheerily and outstretched her arm to rafayel for him to shake. despite how stunned he was, he managed to pull himself together and shook megan's hand.

"hello megan, i appreciate it. why do you look like miss bodyguard?" he deadpanned.

megan's smile dropped and turned into a pout that looked exactly like yours, which ran a bolt of electricity down his spine. she turned to you with confusion, and you chuckled as you bent down to pick her up in your arms.

"rafayel, this is my daughter, megan. i wanted you to meet your biggest fan." you replied. megan smiled once again, "mama is right - i am your biggest fan! i really like your paintings." she said sweetly.

rafayel was frozen solid to the ground, barely able to process what you just told him.

"i'm sorry - daughter? you have a daughter?" he asked incredulously.

"yes, raf - she's right here in front of you." you replied exasperatedly, laughing at his disbelief. "can i show her around the studio? she can't shut up about you at all."

in just a few minutes, rafayel shooed you away from your own daughter, instead making a grand tour of his art studio just for megan. "you stay right there on the couch, and watch TV or something. that's an order." rafayel demanded.

you snorted; it was hard to take him seriously when he just basically snatched megan from your arms into his. but it seemed like you really had no choice in the matter. after making sure your daughter was okay with being left alone with your boss, you complied to his wishes.

it was a sight unlike any other. it was a good thing thomas never shows up at the studio unannounced.

rafayel, for once, was doing what he was supposed to be doing at his art exhibitions - showing off his artistry, explaining his techniques, and poring over the decisions he made in every brushstroke. all while megan, even as she was struggling to comprehend everything, took it all in, absorbing the memory into her brain like a sponge.

"now this, ah..." rafayel grinned widely at the unfinished painting situated on his easel. he bent down to place megan back on the ground and picked up the canvas from the easel. it was a painting of a sunset by a beach where he had spent several nights with you after another one of his spontaneous inspiration trips.

he paused. that trip lasted over three days, and you had traveled over seven hours just to sit and chat with him while he sketched. and to think you did all that while your daughter was probably at home, barely able to check up on her because of the terrible cellphone service at that resort.

looking down at megan, he forced himself to smile, "megan, when your mama's away on a trip - where do you stay?"

the little girl hummed as she hugged the octo-plushie to her chest. "i stay at my dad and step-mama's house, but i don't like it there. it's so messy and loud all the time - and i miss my mama too much." she replied simply, honesty dripping out of her voice.

rafayel bit his lip, indescribable guilt building up in his chest and up to his neck. he reluctantly set the painting back down on his easel and turned to megan with a half-smile. "megan, how about you and your mama come with me to an inspiration trip right now?" he asked.

megan tilted her head. "insporasho- what?"

rafayel chuckled and kneeled down to her height. "we're gonna go to a beach, or an island, or somewhere - and you'll help me pick the colors for my next painting." he told her matter-of-factly, "isn't that great?" he grinned widely when megan's entire face lit up in excitement.

"oh my gosh, really?! i gotta tell mama!" megan shrieked and ran back to where they left you in the living room. rafayel laughed as he followed behind her, hands in his pockets as megan rushed to tell you.

climbing up your lap with great effort, megan repeats rafayel's words through her limited vocabulary. "mr. rafayel wants to go on a beach trip with us, mama! i wanna go! let's go, mama!" she exclaimed.

you grinned at her as you held her in your arms, "of course we can go, baby. as long as it's alright with rafayel." you said.

you glanced up at rafayel, who was smiling fondly at the both of you. he nodded at you and sat down on the couch next to you. "you both deserve it." he muttered, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles gently.

Sylus had noticed from the beginning just how close you were with the twins, but he never really knew why. the two seemed to hang onto every word you were saying, and they also somehow knew the right thing to do to have you instantly give into their whims. you seemed to be able to communicate with the two in a way that he couldn't.

but sylus just chalked it all up to you being a kid at heart, and the twins were still young and wanted something to do other than be his henchmen 24/7. maybe the twins just liked having somebody else to be with at the base other than their boss or some random business partner.

it was at a linkon mall event that it finally clicked for sylus. you asked him a few days before that you were holding a little dinner party at your place, just because. sylus, though confused, obliged with the invitation, speeding down the streets with luke and kieran in the backseat to get to your apartment building on time.

luke knocked on your door and adjusted his jacket like it was a suit. kieran nudged him and they both burst into giggles. sylus, even more confused, raised an eyebrow at their antics - it was probably a twin thing.

"i'll get it!" two little voices sounded from behind the door. sylus held his breath as the door opened, where two twin girls stood behind it. his heart launched up his throat, staring down at the girls whose faces look a little to familiar.

luke and kieran bore the same shock as their boss, "wh- what?" kieran trailed off.

you emerged from the kitchen in a simple sundress and an apron around your waist. you grinned at your visitors. "oh good, you're here." you said, walking over to the entryway. resting each of your hands on the twin girls, you moved them out of the way for the three men to enter into your apartment. "come on in, you guys."

sylus's brain short-circuited - it finally dawned on him why the twin girls looked familiar. as he and the twins entered your apartment, he took a good look at the girls; they looked exactly like you.

"y/n... what is the meaning of this?" sylus spoke carefully.

you chuckled and crouched down to the girls' height. "these are my daughters, sophia and daniela." you replied simply, as if you were just simply replying to a text on the phone. "sophia, daniela, these are our friends - that's sylus, luke, and kieran."

sophia, the twin who's dressed in pink, smiled widely up at luke and raised her arms, "wook!" she exclaimed happily, to which luke immediately scooped her up in his arms, his face crumpling.

daniela, the shier twin who's dressed in white, hid behind your leg when kieran kneeled down to her height and tried to do the same. kieran, though dejected, clutched at his chest dramatically, muttering about how cute this whole thing was.

"it was about time you got to meet the most important people of my life, you know?" you said with a chuckle.

sylus scoffed again - all the times you and the twins wreaked havoc at the base finally made sense. he walked over to you and pulled you in for a hug, his head dipping down to kiss the top of your head.

"you're the bravest woman i know." he whispered, his voice wavering slightly. you returned his hug gratefully, sighing into his chest.

the dinner went by quite eventfully. sophia laughed at everything luke and kieran did at the dinner table. even sylus joined in on the fun by trying to balance his spoon on his nose, to which it clattered onto the table that sent sophia into a fit of giggles. meanwhile, daniela observed the whole table quietly, cautious at the amount of new people that had entered the little world you built for the three of you.

but the twins made sure to give her just as much attention as they did with sophia, albeit through a reasonable distance. the whole table cheered when daniela finally managed to bring out a little laugh when kieran pretended to be defeated by a spoonful of mashed potato straight into the face.

after dinner, both sets of twins sat in the middle of your living room, your tv playing an old kids movie. luke held daniela in his arms both already half-asleep, while kieran fully laid down on the couch bleary-eyed with sophia already dozing off on his stomach.

you smiled fondly at the sight just as sylus walked up behind you after doing the dishes. he wiped his hands on his pants and snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"when i said you're full of surprises, i didn't think it was this, kitten." he whispered into your ear. you giggled and moved to face him just as he was about to land a kiss onto your ear. "there's a lot you still don't know about me, then." you teased.

"what, that you have other children with dumbasses who don't know what they had?" sylus joked. you threw your head back with a laugh and sylus took this to kiss down your neck and collarbones.

"no - you'll be more surprised that they talk a big game but leave anyway." you replied, and sylus doesn't miss the way you still sound bitter, still angry that you had to do it all alone. he hummed as he nuzzled into your skin.

"surprises or not, i'm here now." he told you firmly. "i'll keep all three of you safe. luke, kieran and i will make sure of it." he promised, hoping the sincerity was present in his eyes and voice.

you landed a kiss onto his shoulder, breathing in his scent, his warmth, his security.

"thank you."

Caleb was on high alert by the time you sent him an can you help me out with something through the phone. he immediately dialed your number, listening to the other line ring twice before you finally picked up the call.

"what's wrong?" he asked.

"woah, hey - not even a hello, caleb?" you joked.

"you sounded pretty serious over text. is something bothering you?" he asked. you hummed, and caleb briefly wondered if someone was bothering you. it had been a month since he returned after faking his own death, and he swore that he'd make it up to you in any way you allow him to. if it meant getting rid of something that made you uneasy, or someone, he'll do it. no questions asked.

"well, kind of - but not in a way you think." you said.

caleb's eyebrow raised. "explain."

you were silent again, and worry gnawed at caleb's system - "how about you just come over? it's better if i show you than to talk about it." you said instead. before caleb could ask more questions, you cut him off with a "bring snacks!" before hanging up the phone.

in an hour or so, caleb had arrived outside your apartment, carrying an armload of snacks he stopped to get along the way. he knocked on your door, anxiously biting his bottom lip as he waited for you to answer.

when you opened the door, you quickly gestured for him to be quiet just as he was about to nag you. he clamped his mouth shut and gave you one of the bags he had when you gestured for him to give it to you, entering your apartment after you.

"why are we being quiet?" he whispered.

you gestured to your kitchen, where a brightly colored bassinet stood near the sink. "yoonchae's sleeping, and unless you want to go deaf from her crying her eyes out, you don't wanna wake her up." you replied just as quietly.

nothing was registering into caleb's brain - who was yoonchae? why was there a baby in your apartment? "whose baby is that?"

you set down the bag onto your coffee table, hesitating for a moment. you turned to caleb with a sad smile, "mine." you said. "yoonchae's my daughter."

caleb's knees wobbled, as if the news was suddenly weighing him down by his shoulders. he dropped the bags he was holding and sped over to your side, gripping your arms tightly. "y/n, say it isn't true..." he gasped.

you grinned at him, "i'm being serious, caleb."

"oh my god." caleb rubbed his face. he cautiously walked over to the bassinet, his entire heart in his throat. inside the bassinet was indeed a baby, your baby in fact - she looked exactly like you, her mouth pouting in her sleep the same way you do. yoonchae's baby mitten graze against her puffy cheek, and she shifts in her spot for a moment before going back to motionless again.

"pipsqueak..." caleb gasped again.

"i know," you sighed, walking up behind him and wrapping an arm around his waist. "i was supposed to introduce you to her a while back, but you were always busy at the fleet." you muttered.

"h-how? when?" he asked.

moments later, caleb, with his evol, successfully managed to move the bassinet to the living room without waking yoonchae up. he also figured out how to turn on the bassinet's feature where it rocks side to side to keep her soothed while she slept. he sat on the floor facing yoonchae, with you situated between his legs.

"it happened a month after you and grandma passed." you admitted quietly. "i ran into one of my classmates at university, and we ended up talking for more than just 3 hours at a bar. then... well - one thing led to another." you chuckled humorlessly, then sighed, leaning back to caleb's sturdy chest. "people make decisions on a whim when life seems to fall apart around you." you mumbled.

caleb's arms tightened around you, pressing a kiss to your temple, his heart aching. the thought of you barely able to keep yourself alive after he had passed, and then finding out that you were pregnant and about to become a parent on top of that - it punches something in his chest.

"he was helpful when i told him about the pregnancy." you said with a bittersweet smile. "he referred me to the best pediatricians he knew, helped me baby-proof the entire apartment, ordered a bunch of things for my overnight bag for when i go into labor, all that stuff. he made sure he was going to be there for us, for me, up until when yoonchae was the size of a blueberry."

"he left?" caleb asked, struggling to keep his voice leveled. he'd hate to cause a scene and run the risk of waking yoonchae up. and that's not what you needed right now.

"no, no. he-" you cut yourself off with a sharp breath. caleb turned you around in his hold and quickly wiped away the tears brimming in your eyes. "he p-passed away just after we found out the gender."

"oh pips, i'm so sorry." caleb sighed, cradling your head into the crook of his neck.

"we... we got into separate cars because he still had to work after the appointment. and- and a truck basically just bulldozed over him on the highway-" you sobbed into his skin. caleb shushed you gently, stroking your hair out of your face as he wiped away your tears with his thumb. his heart ached further with each soft sniffle you made; things should've been different.

"i did what i could for yoonchae, even if it meant that he wasn't with us anymore." you whispered.

"and i'm proud of you, pipsqueak." caleb said firmly, holding your face in both of his hands, your cheeks smushing together. "i may have not been here for when you were growing yoonchae in your belly, but i'm going to be here for you from now on."

you gave him a watery smile and wrapped your arms around his neck for a tight hug. caleb hugged you back just as fiercely, tears of his own springing up in his eyes. that was a promise, made from deep inside the tendrils of his heart.

after a while caleb pulled back from you and tucked your hair behind your ear with a smile, "did you call me here just so you could have a babysitter?" he teased.

despite the tears and the snot dripping down your face, you laughed. "you caught me..." you mumbled, still giggling.

caleb couldn't even be angry, he couldn't be as he kissed the palm that rested against his cheek.

"i'll be here for the both of you, pipsqueak. no matter what." he whispered.

taglist 𓂃۶ৎ jus tagging random users <3 hope u enjoy!!!

@zuhaeri @almondtofuus @syxlx @berrryparfait @usertala @c9tnoos @sylusslittlekitten @sylusbigapples @dollyswishingwell @museuranae @multisstuff @atlasbreaks @daddyslittlecrow @dysphxriaii @vesearlee @zephilyr @kunipoka @serendididy @thearynn @qiyukiss @celestialforce @sixeyedgodswife

[eizuuya]

# ICKY!

"SAID SHE WANT MORE THAN A TIP, I AIN'T TALKIN' 'BOUT GUIDANCE!"

♬ paige bueckers x reader ♩ 1.3k ♪ sub!paige, strap sucking (p), strapon sex, is this oral fixation idk ♩ sorry so short

it starts the way it usually does.

not with a kiss. not even a look, just the sound of the front door slamming shut and paige muttering, “god, i need you,” in that low, breathy tone she only uses when her body’s already halfway unzipped from adrenaline. practice just ended. she’s still in her compression pants, jersey clinging to her back with sweat, hair a messy half-bun.

you’re curled up on the couch, ipad in your lap and one of her old t-shirts hanging loose around your thighs. it smells like her, of course it does.

she’s looking at you like she might devour you. no hello. no questions.

“paige.” you set the ipad down, shifting to sit up straighter. “tough practice?”

“no,” she says, already walking toward you, dropping her gym bag somewhere in the kitchen. “just been thinking about your mouth all day.”

you feel your face flush. “well,” you say softly, “that’s very sweet of you.”

paige stops in front of the couch and tilts her head like she’s not amused. she’s never amused when you’re coy. she knows your game.

“get up,” she says.

it’s not rude. it’s not mean. it’s just paige. commanding. serious. desperate in that tightly-wound way she gets after long days.

you rise slowly. let her take you in: bare legs, soft shirt, hair half-tied.

she pulls the shirt over your head before you even get a chance to react. her hands are greedy, not rushed but decisive, and she tosses it to the side like it was never important to begin with.

her mouth grazes your collarbone. “did you wear this just to tease me?”

“maybe.” you’re already breathless.

“mm.” her fingers slip under your panties and yank. they slide down your thighs and fall to the floor. you step out of them, naked now, and paige exhales like you��re the answer to a question she didn’t know she was asking.

“bedroom,” she says. “now.”

she always lets you lead when you want to.

but tonight? she doesn’t want soft. she doesn’t want teasing. she wants to be used.

it’s written in how she peels off her jersey and stands in front of you in just her sports bra and leggings. muscles taut, skin flushed, her chest rising and falling like she’s just run a mile. you can see it in her eyes: the want, yes, but also the trust. the way she drops her shoulders and waits.

“get on your knees,” you say gently.

she obeys without hesitation, settling in front of the bed where your strap is already waiting, clean, shiny, purple, the way she likes it.

you don’t dress too slowly, but you take your time. watching her. letting her sit there, chest heaving, lips parted, eyes wide. the anticipation makes her squirm, makes her thighs press together.

when the harness is on, you cup her jaw. “open.”

she does. wide, eager, obedient.

you guide the tip to her mouth and she moans before she even tastes you.

the first press in is shallow, just to get her lips around it. she groans low in her throat like the feeling alone is enough to undo her. you keep your hand firm at the back of her head, fingers tangled in her damp hair.

“that’s it,” you whisper. “take it.”

she does. she always does.

you start to thrust gently. just her mouth working, tongue pressing underneath, lips stretched wide. her eyes flutter. she reaches for your thighs, gripping tightly as if she needs to ground herself.

you go deeper.

she chokes. moans again. saliva begins to gather at the corners of her mouth. she doesn’t care. you don’t stop.

“that’s what you needed, huh?” you murmur, voice breathy. “needed your mouth full to stop thinking so much.”

she nods around the strap, eyes glossy. you fuck her mouth harder. not cruel, just controlled. you watch her unravel, drool dripping down her chin, her nails digging into your legs, her breath catching every time you push deep and pause there.

you pull out with a wet pop. her lips chase the emptiness.

“get on the bed.”

she scrambles up without complaint.

by the time you crawl on top of her, she’s trembling. not out of fear, but out of need. her legs are spread instinctively. you press your thigh between them and she ruts against it like she’s already on edge.

you kiss her finally. it’s sloppy, hungry, full of teeth. her arms wrap around your waist, her nails dragging down your spine like she wants to mark you.

“say it,” you breathe into her mouth. “tell me what you want.”

“you,” she gasps. “i want you to fuck me.”

you run your hand down her chest, under her sports bra, fingers circling a nipple until she shudders. “say please.”

“please,” she moans, arching into you. “please, baby. please.”

it’s all you need.

you pull her boxers off and she’s wet already— slick, hot, throbbing. you guide the strap between her legs and slide the tip through her folds, slow and teasing, just to hear the way she begs.

“don’t tease—”

you push in.

all at once.

she screams, half-pleasure, half-relief, and throws her head back as her hips buck up.

“god, yes,” she gasps. “don’t stop. don’t stop.”

you don’t.

you pound into her, hips snapping with purpose, the sound of skin on skin loud in the room. she takes it all, legs wrapped around your waist, nails clawing at the sheets, mouth open in a broken moan.

“you like that?” you whisper. “being used like this?”

she nods frantically. “yes. fuck, yes. harder, please—”

you grab her thigh and yank it higher, driving deeper, hitting that perfect spot that makes her curse under her breath and bite her own wrist to stay quiet.

“you’re so good like this,” you murmur. “taking me so deep. letting me fuck you like i own you.”

“you do,” she whimpers. “you do, fuck, you do—”

you slow down just enough to make her cry out. her hips chase you, desperate, greedy.

“you wanna come?”

“yes, baby, please, please let me—”

you speed up again, hard and deep and punishing. the bed creaks. her hands grasp blindly for your shoulders, your back, your hips, anything to hold onto.

she comes with a cry, whole body locking up around you, thighs trembling, breath stuttering.

you don’t stop.

you fuck her through it, past it, until she’s clawing at your arms, sobbing, mouth open but no sound coming out.

she comes again.

after, you slow down. not out of weakness, but out of care. out of reverence.

you ease out of her and she shudders, still twitching with aftershocks. you pull the harness off and toss it aside, crawling back up to hold her.

her face is flushed, soaked with sweat and tears. she’s boneless under you, chest still rising and falling like she just finished a sprint.

you kiss her forehead. “you okay?”

she nods against your shoulder, voice hoarse. “never better.”

you laugh softly and pull her close.

“god,” she mumbles. “you ruin me.”

you stroke her hair gently. “you love it.”

“i do.”

you let her lay on your chest, skin-to-skin, the room filled only with your quiet breathing and the slow tick of the clock. eventually, paige kisses your shoulder. “you know what i need next?”

“water?”

she nods. “and then maybe you’ll let me sit in your lap and make you come until you cry.”

you grin. “so demanding.”

she smiles lazily, eyes still closed. “you started it.”

and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[hanchette]

𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐉𝐀 ( kpop demon hunters )

a/n: stop saying they're a hear me out, I AM HEARING YOU OUT

consist of : fluff, gender neutral reader — soft moment w/ jinu

"you're my soda pop, my little soda pop."

"that song again?"

entering the room with snack filled tray was jinu, a small smile blessing his face, there's a small tremble in the way he holds the brown wood—filled with a glass of grape juice with spherical ice filling them in with a straw, a miniscule little umbrella sits on top of it, resting oh so sweetly like a cherry on top of a cupcake. besides it was a classic cheesy noodles that jinu has lately been craving ever since he found out that they existed.

to be fair, you did introduced it to him and as soon as he tasted it, he almost cried in relief of how good it was. or maybe it was more on the cooking (how you did it) that took him kneeling on the floor gobsmacked with a delicious thump at how the flavours blend well—ahhh, he can be quite dramatic at times.

"yup, had me on a chokehold ever since I've heard of it, yanno?" you grinned, looking at him over your shoulder, teeth showing with an entertained look plastered on your face. shameless at admitting it.

your phone continues to ring out the melodies, the song in the background playing over and over again—saja boy's voice and visuals emitting from the little pad of device on your hands, the camera zooming in every now and then at romance, abby—jinu.

jinu shakes his head, placing the tray on the coffee table in front of your bed where you are laying on it sideways, just enough to get that position that melts your very bones to the best possible ways you can't tell, it's the kind that's enough to send you sighing in relief at how much you don't wanna move right now.

"i see, well i am glad you are enjoying it." he smiles, walking towards you before kneeling in front of you. you lowered your device, finally taking him in completely. hair as pure as the midnight sky with a smoldering look—was it? you couldn't tell, jinu just looks like he is seducing you at every second that you now put all of his expression on smoldering by default. dressed in casual navy blue button up shirt and khaki shorts, to top it off, he is wearing bunny slippers which were initially yours had you not messed up the sizes.

in the first place why not indicate that the shoe measures on the front of the page was placed not on your favour? that was just diabolical of the seller to not add the description.

"yes?" you questioned, blinking at him once you realized that you've been staring at him for a bit of the seconds there, but the handsome lad simply chuckled through his nose, short and sounds more like a snort.

"why obsess over it when i am right here." sure the words started with 'why' but the way jinu said it sounds more like a statement; asking you to place your attention fully on him.

once.

twice.

you blink at him owlishly, expression more of a deer in headlight or was it a busted headquarter where your braincells are clocking out? jinu himself, your boyfriend, is asking for your attention at this very moment. sure he does this sometimes, asking for your undivided attention but it was more on the indirect side. like how he'd distract you with your favorite treats, cuddles, gifts, but never upfront.

you could still vividly remember him taking your hand to place a small gift on your palms, it was a cute charm that you've yapped about once towards him. "like it?" to which you gushed and lunges at him in excitement.

"jinu."

"yea?"

"..."

his hand, previously resting on his knee now touches your cheek gingerly. "finally done admiring the saja boys?" he questioned, side eyeing your phone for a bit before his eyes turn back on you, eyebrow raised in question to which you realized you haven't answered.

"not yet." you rushed, thumb clicking the off button of your phone and silencing the echoing song out. "not yet, i haven't." you murmured, lost in the way he looks at you, the way he seems to capture your breath as he nears close.

his hand now caress your jaw before they crawl up to space to hold the back of your head, so sweetly and gently as he pulls you towards him. "so i see." he muses, voice just as low as yours, eyes holding yours in a lock, as if searching for a slight bit of hesitance despite how many times you've done it now.

jinu wasn't used to this, grief still shivers in his bones, guilt and resentment to himself, but for now, he can drown it out with the silence of whatever this is.

and soon, his lips is on yours.

[achromatophoric]

Taking a Break

Serious talk time. Apologies in advance. I have a question that I hope can be asked and answered without any vitriol. I understand that everyone has their own comfort level concerning written content, and I deeply dislike causing people grief of any sort.

For the first time, I was presented with criticism (that weren’t just Asks from bigoted trolls) concerning writing shorts with sexual humor involving two 16-year-olds (Wednesday and Enid), with the idea that an adult writing that content makes that individual problematic.

It’s understandably a very sensitive subject, and it was enough to have me banned from a server I occasionally posted on for content written in this blog. That’s understandable, because the comfort and safety of a server’s members is always important.

I wasn’t offended, and it was even a welcome distraction during a funeral, but it did leave me with a question:

Should I stop writing these?

I’m a big fan of teen sex comedies like Bottoms, American Pie, and But I’m a Cheerleader, particularly since they allow me to experience what I missed out on due to a religious upbringing. I’m also terminally unable to take sex seriously, which could be related to my demisexuality. Needless to say, I haven’t taken my posts very seriously.

I’ve been presumptuous in what I’ve been writing. I don’t have the attention span for longer form, so I always imagined what I write as scenes that could slip into the general gestalt Wenclair headcanon, letting the readers fill in the blanks. Brief, but not hopefully not entirely meaningless.

I knew what I was writing was bereft of plot and heavy on absurdity, but I didn’t realize that by lacking plot for the humor to move forward, it could be taken as sexualizing minors purely for the sake of sexualizing minors. That was so far from my intentions that I’m just disappointed with myself.

I’ve always felt that fanfics (and fanshipping in general) was intended as a safe space to write/share interests that other people would ridicule them for. Just people being their nerdiest and protecting each other from predatory or malicious behavior. So if my writing has ever seemed predatory or malicious, I am deeply sorry.

This fandom is honestly awesome. I’ve never been a part of one before, and it’s given me a much appreciated creative outlet when I’ve had to give most of mine up for various lifestyle/health reasons. So if it’s better for the Tumblr community that I just stop, I’ll be sad to do so, but I’ll understand.

I’ll take the poll results into consideration. That said, even if #7 wins out, I’m not sure how it will go. While I do adore the fandom, I don’t communicate very actively with others in it, so I have no real perspective of how my writing is perceived. Knowing that the things I write are actively making people uncomfortable enough to act on it is… just a lot.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Lesson Three: Somnophilia

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: it's all conversation but it is about somnophilia and cnc at large

Genre: smut but only kinda this time

Summary: Some things are not self explanatory, and Steve has decided he's going to fill in the gaps by coming to you to ask his questions about sex and some of those questions have more involved answers than you'd expect

***

You sing and dance along to the music blaring through your speaker as you fold and put away your laundry. You barely hear the knock at your door. Actually, you don't hear it at all, but when Steve shouts your name on the other side you're finally able to hear the solid taps on wood.

"Oops." You chuckle to yourself. You pause your music and jog over to your door, folded bra in hand. When you swing it open Steve's hand is still up by his head to knock again.

"Hi Stevie! Sorry about that, couldn't hear you over the music." You smile.

"Yes I could tell, sorry to bother- are you busy?" Steve's eyes widen when he catches sight of your bra clutched in your hand on your hip.

"Oh, no I was just folding laundry. Nothing you can't be in here for." You nod your head for him to enter your bedroom and shut the door behind him.

"So what's up?" You ask.

"I have a new question." He says sitting on your bed.

"Shoot." You tell him, walking into your closet to hang a dress.

"What's somnophilia?" He asks and your eyes widen in shock as you slot your dress in its spot.

"Christ. Where are you getting these questions from Rogers? Because you come to me with questions about shit that has literally never come up in a regular conversation?!" You ask before stepping back out.

"Are these unsavory things?" He tilts his head so innocently you almost can't believe what he's just asked you about.

"I am in no position to judge the ways people engage with all things surrounding the deadly sin of lust. I'm just trying to figure out where your questions originate." You say.

"There's plenty of sources." Steve shrugs.

"Evidently so. Look, this one I can't give you a kinesthetic lesson on but I'll explain it and you can ask whatever questions you want." You say.

"Why can't you do a kinesthetic lesson?" He asks.

"Because of the nature of somnophilia. It falls under the umbrella of a large collection of activities known as consensual non consent"

"You've mentioned it before." Steve says, even flipping back to another page of his notebook. Did he write it down last time?

"Yes, I believe you said it was an oxymoron." You chuckle.

"Well it is."

"I know. That's the point. Sometimes people are interested in trying things that are unethical or dangerous, so they create opportunities to safely engage with those interests. It's like those toy cars for kids that they drive on their yards or a play kitchen. They can't really drive or cook because they're babies, but they can pretend to do those things. It's like that." You explain.

"But in a sexual way?"

"Yeah pretty much."

"What's a dangerous way to have sex?" Steve sounds down right incredulous and you almost want to laugh, but instead you sit on the bed with him to explain.

"Oh there are plenty and dangerous in different ways. As far as consensual non consent, which for short is just called CNC, I'm not gonna keep saying the full thing, lots of people have desires to feel vulnerable, helpless, a sort of primal fear, those are mostly chemical reactions, you can set those off without actually putting yourself in real life threatening danger. Same reason people go cliff diving and bungee jumping and stuff."

"Okay, and somnophilia is like that?" Steve asks.

"Somnophilia is sex with a sleeping or otherwise unconscious person." You figure you should get the definition out of the way.

"Why would you want that?" He shakes his head.

"That's one of those answers that varies from person to person. Ultimately though it's mostly about the control, or lack thereof depending on what side of the pairing you are. Being at the mercy of someone else at all times, and inversely having unremitting access to someone without even having to ask, people like it."

"But why wouldn't you want to ask? How do you know they're enjoying it if they're asleep? Or if you're asleep." Steve furrows his brows.

"Well if you're the one awake it's about indulging yourself not so much your partner and if you're the one asleep their enjoyment is their business, you're just- a tool, some people like that. Plus unless drugs are involved chances are the one asleep will wake up in the middle and you can check in."

"Drugs?!" Steve looks at you, eyes ready to pop right out of their sockets.

"Some people use drugs, yes, they don't care for a check in, like a living doll I guess." You shrug.

"Have you done it before?"

"Paralytic agents? No." You shake your head.

"I meant- somnophilia." He clarifies.

"Oh, well yes but only in the sleeping way."

"I don't understand, how does that work? How do you do that safely?" Steve asks.

"Not without plenty of prerequisite conversation, plus that's where safewords, safe gestures, and frequent check ins are incredibly important. You have to be incredibly clear on everything before anyone touches anyone."

"What kind of conversations have to be had?" He asks, pen at the ready. He's seriously going to take notes on this.

"Well, you'll need to discuss what the limits are. What's allowed for the awake person to do to the unconscious person. If the person's just sleeping naturally they will probably wake up pretty quickly, I did, but that adds a level of clarification as well. How do you know when someone who is asleep wants you to touch them ya know? Like at least- okay this is going to sound insane but stay with me, if you're using drugs the person has to knowingly take it and therefore there's a level of understanding inherently of what will go down once they kick in. But everyone sleeps so deciding when disrupting that sleep will be well received is important. Of course, sometimes you'll gauge wrong, but when they wake up they'll let you know."

"But you can't gauge that unless or until you wake them."

"I mean different dynamics will have their own systems. The simplest and probably most common way people give nonverbal cues for this sort of thing specifically is sleeping naked or without underwear or wearing a particular article of clothing because then the sleeping person can indicate without having to explicitly say before bed that they're open to being touched while unconscious." You explain.

"This is complicated." He blows out a breath and you chuckle a bit at his exasperation.

"A little, yes, but I think it's worse here than it would be in reality because I'm trying to explain it in a hypothetical sense and not just discussing it in context of an actual dynamic." You say.

"So how would a real conversation about this go?" He asks.

"You know what, I can't give you a hands on lesson of actual somnophilia but maybe we can roleplay the conversation a real couple would have about it! I will start the conversation and you just respond with whatever feels most natural to you, okay?" You shift so you're facing him better.

"O-okay sure." Steve nods his head.

"I want to try somnophilia." You say plainly.

"O-kay." Steve says, he draws out the second syllable as if he's unsure what else to say.

"Do you know what that is?" You ask.

"Not... really. No." He shakes his head.

"It's a kink thing but the long and short of it is you get to fuck me while I'm asleep."

"While you're asleep?!"

"Yes." You nod once, sharply.

"But- I don't want to disturb you while you're sleeping, you already have awful nighttime habits. And what if you're not in the mood? How am I supposed to tell if you're asleep?" Steve shakes his head. Your nighttime habits was such an unnecessary call out.

"Well I was thinking of a system we could use for that, like the way some bathrooms have a little thing that indicates if it's vacant or occupied? What if I just sleep naked? Like on the nights I want you to touch me while I'm asleep." You suggest in the way you feel would make sense if you were actually telling a partner this.

"So if you're in the mood you'll just sleep naked?"

"Yeah! I mean that way anything you could want to touch is like as easily accessible as it gets." You shrug.

"But- how do you- want me to touch you? If you're asleep I can't ask what you want." He shakes his head.

"What I want is for you to touch me, the how is- a chance to be selfish. Do what you want. The point is that I'm trusting you and open to you even at my most vulnerable. Take what you want, or give what you want."

"And what happens when you wake up?"

"What do you mean?" You tilt your head.

"I can't imagine you won't be able to feel whatever I do, and in that case surely you'll wake up pretty quickly right? What happens then? Or am I supposed to try not waking you up?"

"No. I don't have to stay asleep, I mean if I do stay asleep then don't worry about it, but if I wake up that's fine too." You say.

"There's a possibility you could stay asleep while I'm- ya know, inside you?" Steve looks shocked and maybe a bit confused.

"Well I don't know we haven't tried it yet so I guess we'll figure that out." You shrug.

"But you see it as a possibility-"

"Sure. I'm not the heaviest of sleepers but you seem so concerned I can't imagine you'll be putting me through the mattress or anything extreme like that." You say.

"Putting you-"

"I just mean that I suspect you'll be incredibly gentle with me and while that's perfectly fine, depending on how gentle you are, I may not wake up in the middle of it." No need to explain the phrase putting you through the mattress.

"And if you don't?"

"Do what you came to do and then keep it moving. I'll piece it together myself once I'm awake." 

"You'll piece it together?" He sounds skeptical.

"When I wake up feeling stretched out or leaking like a faucet, it'll be kinda hard to miss." You say.

"My goodness." Steve says. That shocked him, despite the nature of this entire conversation.

"Yeah so I think that's roughly how that kind of conversation would go between partners." Now feels like the right place to cut the roleplay.

"Wow that- kinda helped." He nods.

"Great, any other questions about it?" You ask.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Excuse me?" You blink at him. you're not quite sure what he's asking.

"Well you said you've done it right? Is it something you enjoy? Would you try it again?" He asks with eyes that seem way too innocent for what he's asking about.

"Oh- yeah, I enjoyed it. I'd try it again I suppose if I was in a relationship that made sense to suggest it in."

"What do you mean?"

"Well if I'm dating someone who's on the more vanilla side I'd probably not bring it up. It's not do or die." You shrug.

"Oh."

"Would you try it? Now that you know what it is." You ask.

"I think I'd be more comfortable on the receiving end actually. I don't know that I would be able to handle the possibility that I cross a boundary with my girlfriend because I made an assumption. Even one that we'd previously discussed I could make an assumption on. Plus I too much enjoy all the little reactions, it's not as enjoyable for me if I don't know that my partner is enjoying it." He says.

"That's understandable. It's not for everyone. It requires a lot of trust and that's something that has to be built, may be difficult to imagine that if you don't or haven't had a relationship with that level of trust."

"Yeah maybe. Thank you for explaining. I'm- gonna go, now." Steve stands. It looks like he has a lot on his mind.

"Sure thing. You know where to find me when you've got more questions." You tell him.

Whatever he's pondering you hope he sorts it out, but you have to finish sorting your laundry.

***

[sammywritesfics]

QH-Marriage Proposal.

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader Word Count: 676 Warnings: None Request: "Can you write a story about Quinn buying and engagement ring and proposing to y/n? Also including how nervous he is. 🙏😍❤️ thank you!!" Requests are open!

--

Quinn had never been more nervous since he was drafted. He first knew he would propose when you took care of Luke after he got the stomach flu. Quinn had spent months searching for a ring, often texting his mom late at night in secret. It actually started a fight between you too once. 

You were dead convinced he was hiding something. You doubted he was cheating but he would sneak off halfway through dinner with his phone. Or spend late nights answering texts that you weren’t allowed to look at. 

One night Quinn came home with flowers and you bitterly replied, “Are those for your other girlfriend?”. Quinn furrowed his brows at a loss for words. “What?’ Was all that came out of his mouth. 

“late-night texting?” You sassed him. Quinn’s smile returned to his face. It was a goofy grin. “I’ve been asking my mom what the difference is between a princess cut and a pear ring..” Quinn said, setting the flowers on the counter as he reached for his back pocket. 

You stared at him completely shocked as he pulled out an engagement ring. “I’m not gonna propose immediately, I wanted it to be special..” Quinn said, putting it back in his flannel pocket. 

As your eyes watered, you wrapped your arms around him. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you…” you mumble into his arms. 

Since that night, you both talked about different things you wanted after marriage. But the most important thing is that you want it together. All the dumb little things didn’t matter in comparison after that. 

After that month, and the next you had almost forgotten it. You were at the lake house all week. Swimming with Jack, and playing games with Luke. Quinn loved how much you fit into his chaotic family. 

It was only when Ellen mentioned something about Quinn needing a ring polisher to you. That you knew it was gonna be this weekend. 

Quinn’s by the dock pacing as Jack and Luke try to calm him down. Quinn was rambling, “I’m gonna throw up, like actually throw up..”. Jack rolled his eyes, “You're not gonna throw up” he reassured, but neither he nor Luke could be certain at that moment. 

The only time they had seen him that nervous after the draft day, was when Luke broke their mom's fancy vase. And being the big brother, Quinn took the blame and paid for it. 

“She’s gonna say yes. All she ever talks about is you” Luke said casually as both his brothers snapped their heads to him. 

“You talk to her about it?” Quinn asked hopefully. Luke was a bit embarrassed as he sighed, running a hand over his mouth. “She once helped me sneak a girl out of the apartment. Since then she's been my sister” Luke said, watching as Jack burst into an uproar of questions. 

But when you walked out to see what the commotion was, Quinn had never been more certain in his life. Luke pulled Jack away so as to not ruin the perfect moment. Though any moment with Quinn was perfect for you. 

“I don’t have a great speech for this..” Quinn said, kneeling down on one knee. You immediately fell to match him before forcing yourself to stand up. He could see you were just as worried. 

“You can kneel if you want a pretty girl..” Quinn smiled, taking out the box from his shorts. He had even trimmed his hair for this. So you sat with him on the dock as the sun started to slowly descend. 

“I have wanted to marry you since you rubbed Luke's back for an hour as he threw up,” Quinn confessed to you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his words. 

“There’s no one I want to spend my life with. I can’t offer you much emotional support. Because sometimes I’m an idiot. But I'd love to be yours, even if I spend the rest of my life proving I deserve it.” It was short and sweet. 

You said yes, hugging him tightly as Quinn’s face flooded with relief. 

[kraeted]

contains: brazil hinata shoyo + gender neutral reader + drabble + established relationship + fluff

note: this is the last time i'm starting all over. no more deleting my accounts or posts. i might not be posting consistently because my inspiration and motivation come and go, but i feel like my work shouldn't go to 'waste' by just sitting in my drafts for eternity. this is a repost so if you recognize it, that's why. hope you enjoy it!

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You say as soon as Hinata opens the front door to leave for his beach volleyball practice.

Your eyes don’t leave the laptop in your lap as you type away at your essay you should have finished days ago. The soothing buzzing of the ventilator in the corner of the living room serves more as white noise than its actual purpose, the wind it is producing just as warm as the heat intruding your apartment.

With furrowed brows Hinata stops in his tracks. He taps the pockets of his shorts to check for his keys and phone. “Check,” he mumbles to himself as he moves on to his backpack, throwing it forward over his shoulder and opening the zipper, “Cap, check. Sunglasses, check. Wallet, check.”

You softly shake your head with a smile in an amused disbelief. No matter how often you reminded him, somehow that one thing never made it onto his mental checklist. 

From the corner of your eye, you vaguely notice him looking up at you with a questioning gaze. Quickly his confusion dissolves as his face lights up. 

“Oh yeah!” You practically see the light bulb above his head turn on before he rushes over to you, mindful of the coffee table his lower leg bumped into one too many times. He pulls his backpack against his chest to keep it from hitting you and he leans down to kiss your cheek.

“Well, that too.” His chest warming gesture makes you chuckle and you finally look up at him with feigned sternness. “But I was talking about sunscreen.” 

The realization flashes across his face and he gives you a guilty, cheeky smile. 

The last time he forgot to put it on, the sun nearly burned him to a crisp. Pitying your boyfriend and ignoring the classes you had to attend the next morning, you went over to his apartment with aloe vera gel. You carefully applied it for him, but with every touch of his scarlet skin came a painful hiss, which you reciprocated with hushed sorries.

“Where is it again?” His guilty grin is accompanied by his hand awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

“The cream tote bag in my room, it’s probably on the chair.” You answer and you turn back to the screen in front of you. Hinata puts down his bag next to the couch and disappears into your bedroom.

You don’t miss the faint noises of him pushing things around in your room that probably don’t need any moving, before he finds your bag and searches around in the endless sea of random items you carried everywhere.

Two written sentences later, he’s back in the living room, with an orange tube in one hand and a mountain of sunscreen in the palm of his other hand. He hands you the tube. “Can you do my back please?” 

What is a few more minutes if your essay is already late? 

You push your laptop to the side and push yourself from the couch. Your strained eyes definitely need a moment away from the blue light of your screen, the slight burn evident of your exhaustion.

“Turn around.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Hinata does as he’s told, his back facing you.

You squeeze a generous amount of sunscreen on your hand and let the tube fall from your hand onto the couch. 

“How much do you still have to do?” He asks, dotting white specks all across his face before rubbing his hands together to massage what remains to the rest of his exposed limps. 

“I’m almost done with the last chapter and then I just have the summary and the bibliography left, but I also have to reread everything.” You sigh, the thought of it all overwhelming you. “I think I can finish it by tonight or tomorrow at the latest.” 

You apply the white cream on the parts of his shoulders, back and nape of his neck, his tank top doesn't cover. After a good amount of healing and continuous protection (to no help of his own) the redness of his burned skin had faded into beautiful golden brown, his sun bleached hair complimenting his current skin color. 

“You actually do that?” He turns to you when he doesn’t feel your hands on his back anymore.

As he rubs the white streaks into his arms, you reach for his face and Hinata closes his eyes. “Good students usually do, yes.”

He chuckles and shoots back, “Don’t good students usually submit their work on time?” 

You smile, your fingers caressing the variety of freckles sprinkled across his face. “Don’t good athletes usually show up to their practices on time?” 

His eyes shoot open and he glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Oh, shit. I gotta go.” He scoops his bag from the floor and heads for the door, only to turn to you again and give you another kiss, this time a quick peck to your lips. “Love you, bye!” 

He dashes out of your apartment and closes the front door with a powerful swing, the walls shaking on impact. His quick departure almost makes you miss his words, but as soon as you sit back down on the couch, your eyes widen.

He loves you?

[dangraccoon]

Repairs

Crosshair & Omega & Tech

@summer-of-bad-batch

Week 3: "Give me your hand." || brothers || Pabu culture

Word Count: 966

Content: injury, prosthetic hand, older/adult Omega, she's the only one Cross will actually listen to, mostly because she doesn't comply when he tells her to fuck off, Tech lives, Tech was CX-2, disabled Tech

Mando'a Guide dinuir gar gaan, vod? - give me your hand, brother? elek, ner vod - yes, my brother

“You know he will, right?” Omega hummed, only stealing a short glance up at her brother over the garden bed they worked at. 

Crosshair sighed. “No,” he groaned. “Not you, too.”

“Yes, me too.” She stuck her tongue out at him as she flicked some soil toward him. “You’re all worked up about it and you’re not listening to anyone else–”

“Everyone else is stupid.”

“And that’s why I have to step in now.”

Crosshair scowled, returning his focus to the weeds. He couldn’t very well argue with that. Omega was his soft spot. Even if she always pushed him to do uncomfortable things. 

“Why won’t you just ask?” she said. “It couldn’t hurt that badly to just ask the question.”

Crosshair sighed again. “It’s not worth it.”

His traitorous, malfunctioning right hand couldn’t have picked a less opportune time to jerk and send a jolt of pain up his arm. He attempted to suppress the yelp it provoked, a strangled noise emanating from his neck. 

She looked at him pointedly, one brow raised. 

“He’s the one that made it,” she pointed out, not unkindly. 

“Seven years ago and not for me,” he reminded her. “You could fix it.”

“Cross,” she chastised. 

“You’re the one who fitted it to me!”

“Cross.”

“I-I don’t want to overwhelm him,” he tried. “He hasn’t been back long and–”

“Cross.”

“He probably kriffing hates me anyway! I threw him off a cliff.”

“Crosshair.”

He shut his mouth. 

She sighed. “I’ll come with you,” she offered. 

And that was it. He was done for. 

They walked together back up the winding paths of their island home, waving and greeting the other residents. It had taken Crosshair a while to adjust to people not only saying hello with a smile, but actually meaning it. As much as he acted like he would rather be a hermit somewhere, it did warm his heart. 

When the ship came into view, his feet stopped working. He hadn’t seen him since he‘d come here. 

There was a difference, he figured, between knowing what his brother had become and seeing it for himself. If he never saw him now, he could live with the delusion that it wasn’t true. 

“I can’t do this, Omega,” he breathed. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. His robotic hand twinged. 

“We can do it together,” she gently suggested. Her hand reached out. 

He took a few deep breaths before putting his flesh hand in hers. 

Together they walked to the ramp of the ship. 

Omega knocked on the doorway. 

“Omega?” came the call from inside. 

“Yeah,” she answered. “And Crosshair.”

Something clattered against the durasteel floor. 

Omega pulled Crosshair into the ship by the hand with a gentle smile. He felt like Batcher trying to avoid bath time. 

He blinked as his eyes easily adjusted to the dimmed lights–a leftover of his genetic mutations, even though his unaided eyesight was closer to that of a reg now. Omega was squinting in the low light, but pressing onwards towards the cargo bay.

As they passed through the doorway, Crosshair watched his brother wearily. 

He was hunched over at his desk in his heavily modified hover chair, focused entirely on whatever device he was working on. 

Crosshair knew the extent of his injuries from what Omega had told him. He knew that the electrospear had pierced through his abdomen and severed a portion of his spine. He knew that several of his organs had to be regrown. He knew that the electricity had left branching scars across his body, and the way his goggles had broken when he fell had left other scars around his eyes. 

“Hey Tech,” Omega said with her usual bright smile. She released Crosshair’s hand to walk over to their brother. “What are you working on?” 

“It is a device to aid Mrs. Voli in reaching her upper shelves,” he explained. “She was insistent that she preferred a small drone over hiring an assistant.”

“That sounds about right,” Omega chuckled as she bent down to pick up the spanner he’d dropped earlier. 

After another few quiet moments, his hands stopped moving. He stared down at them, still enough that Crosshair wasn’t sure if he was still breathing. 

“Tech,” Omega whispered, placing her hand gently on his shoulder. 

He seemed to come back to himself. “Yes, you came here for a reason,” he said, almost like he was reminding himself. “And you’ve brought…”

Tech’s voice trailed off as he turned his chair to face his brother. 

“Crosshair,” he nearly whispered. “It is… very good to see you again.”

Crosshair felt like he was freezing in place. He couldn’t breathe.

“As myself, that is,” Tech added, reaching up to adjust the goggles he no longer had, then slowly lowering his hand again. 

Crosshair forced himself into a light nod. 

Tech’s eyes turned sad as he looked up at Omega. “How can I help you both?”

Omega offered a quiet smile. “Crosshair’s hand is malfunctioning.”

Tech nodded and returned his gaze to Crosshair, honing in on the hand in question. 

Omega gave Crosshair that look, and he shuffled over to them, holding out his hand so Tech could see it in the light. 

“This is the prototype I built for Echo before the end of the war,” he said. 

“I had to alter the connection to fit Cross,” Omega explained. “He won’t tell anyone what’s wrong with it, but we can all see it’s hurting him.”

Tech nodded again, holding out his hand. “Dinuir gar gaan, vod?” 

Their eyes locked in a silent moment. Everything else faded away, leaving only memories of growing up with his newly found, long-lost brother. 

“Elek,” he answered, letting a smirk start to pull at his lips. “Ner vod.”

⇦ Previous Week Next Week ⇨

Thanks for reading! - River

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[all-pacas]

CAMERON CORNER

even if it isn't a huge theme of s2 compared to stacy and house, cameron has quietly had an incredible run of episodes so far, and spin is no different. while at first her insistence that jeff is a Cheater and should be Punished is treated even by the show as something of a joke (chase and foreman both have a good time teasing her about it), her final scene with wilson makes it clear this isn't a joke and that, in her own way, cameron is just as messed up as he is.

in a completely different way, of course. as you mentioned, her story of falling in love with joe is fairly sympathetic, even understandable. she was twenty, in an impossibly difficult situation, who would blame her for needing comfort and support and finding it? well: cameron would blame her! this episode makes clear two things: that as insane and rigid as her world view can be, she absolutely holds herself to that same impossible standard, and also, that given the choice between doing the right thing and happiness, cameron will every time break her own heart. and BOY are these lessons relevant for the future.

spin and the joe story also continues to ask an interesting question: did cameron love her first husband? i believe she believes the answer is yes, but every time we learn more about him, a more complicated picture emerges. in fidelity, cameron paints a picture of true love cut tragically short (and we will hear this idealized version of the story again in s3's insensitive), but in every telling since then (including insensitive), a different picture starts to emerge. we saw in acceptance that rather than being eager and happy to help nurse and comfort her dying patient, cameron was driving herself nearly to breaking and unable to face the reality of it; we learn here that she spent at least some of her husband's final days in love with someone else — tellingly, a friend who supported and comforted her, rather than her idealized, tragic husband. i don't want to imply that cameron didn't love her husband — i think she believes entirely that she did. but we're also very much learning that cameron considers this to be a matter of control. you can control your actions, she tells wilson. what is right (tending to a dying man) is more important than feelings. she will always pick being unhappy if it also means she's right. and boy do i wonder if that is going to come up in exactly one episode!!

there is a cut line from s1e3 that i always think about in relation to this episode. it's the episode where cameron and chase are playing insane flirting chicken, and it's from a scene cut after the "sex can kill you" speech.

we can control our actions. we should control out actions. what we want is wrong. all that matters is doing what's right. so i bring up the question cameron is asked by sebastian charles again: do you like working for house?, and will be asked again in one episode's time: is cameron happy? i believe she believes so. but i think the show is starting to tell us that she is wrong.

house md rewatch: 2x06, "spin"

wilson is so "hate yourself" by tv girl here.

some freaking out about james wilson below. that's why this one is so long.

i think the overall theme of this episode is pleasantly cut-and-dry. to quote wilson: "you'd be surprised what you can live with." this applies to house, stacy, the patient (jeff the famous cyclist), wilson, and cameron. for expediency's sake, i'll run through that laundry list as orderly as possible...

house and jeff must live with their respective drugs and conditions. jeff dopes with blood transfusions to give himself an edge, and chase and foreman attempt to draw a false equivalency between this and house's vicodin. but, like in cameron's view, this doesn't work (at first). house's disability/condition predates his vicodin addiction, whereas jeff's doping came after (later found to be untrue.) i'm glad cameron disputed this comparison because it gets drawn a lot. house is coping, engendering some sympathy and understanding, while jeff is trying to get ahead. house feels subnormal; jeff wants to supersede "normal" altogether.

but it turns out that jeff's condition was being conveniently treated and hidden by his blood transfusions. so, in an odd twist, the parallel between him and house does stick. their respective addictions allow them to perform their jobs; their "normals" are different than most, and their substances help rectify that - if we don't factor in the collateral damage substance abuse incurs, of course.

but god is there tragedy in the ways this comparison still doesn't quite fit. the patient's blood transfusions are essentially a cure-all, and he can hide the secret benefits from the public. his muscles work like they're supposed to. house even administers the drug to relieve the symptoms in jeff's right leg - the same leg that vicodin can't fix in house's case.

the line from foreman to jeff is telling in this regard: "i doubt there's anything wrong with you that you didn't do yourself." in jeff's case, this isn't true, but it makes the endemic house question reemerge - how much of house's life is his own fault?

meanwhile, stacy and house must live with the tension that exists between them, though house cannot abide by this. house sabotages stacy and mark throughout the episode and reads way too much into stacy's resulting behavior, looking for confirmation that one of house's emotional extremes exists therein: love or hate. as we know too well, this annoyingly psychoanalytic tendency of his carries over tenfold to cuddy, but it's still super prescient here.

over the course of the episode, they enter each other's personal space in 2 polar opposite moods: fury and guilt. both instances highlight their dysfunction; they both impede on the other's ability to perform their jobs.

by the episode's end, stacy asserts to house that, despite her loving him, she also hates him, and they'll just have to live with that if they want to work together, and if she wants to hold onto mark.

predictably, as the titular, unstable character, house violates the established theme and refuses to live with this new arrangement. he exploits the condition (that he, notably, has no choice but to live with) to gain access to stacy's psychiatric records, and we all know how this plays out lol.

in an episode about worship of the imperfect (more on that later), it's powerful that house is kneeling at the filing cabinet that contains stacy's records. kneeling at what he cannot contend with; kneeling and searching for truth; kneeling and corrupting his promise to live and let live.

i'll mention here re: worship that house is flagrantly characterized as god/jesus in an episode where jeff is worshipped by adoring fans. even the way house "heals" jeff through the injection mimics jesus healing those unable to walk. time and time again, i love the house = god (except not quite) parallels.

cameron must live with the burden of her moral compass. cameron is repeatedly ridiculed (no surprise smh) for being so unyielding toward jeff when he admits to taking drugs as a cyclist. it sounds naive of her, but i think she makes a decent argument about the difference between lies for self betterment and lies for overall betterment. maybe that makes me naive and/or a narc, too. oh well. her almost choice to rat out jeff to the press is an interesting decision point for her, and says a lot about her character, forever contrasted with wilson.

she says that kids worship jeff, and that they can't/shouldn't love someone who is a fraud, and implies that jeff doesn't deserve their adoration. again, this seems naive, until she reaffirms house's earlier diagnosis of her behavior: she has his dad's "insane moral compass that won't let you lie to anybody about anything."

to wilson's cheating history, she raises the fact that she fell in love with her husband's best friend while her husband was ill. upsetting revelation, but we'd all be lying if we said it wasn't at least a little understandable. wilson, assuming that cameron is about to relate to him and his disaster of a love life, seems relieved by this, until she drops the bombshell that she never acted on those feelings; when wilson says "you can't control your emotions," she says, "just your actions."

in this moment, cameron (at least to me), fully confirms that she is not to be written off as naive. instead, 2x06 confirms that she has been painfully aware of her own emotional strife, self-inflicted because of her convictions, and forever burdened by her self-control. this is how cameron lives. wilson is surprised by what she can live with.

and that brings me to the man of the hour himself - wilson. i wanted to write about cameron first to emphasize how insane he is in this episode. wilson must live with the consequences of his own actions...after the episode confirms (via cameron) that those actions are entirely preventable, and that wilson has predicated his moral code on a faulty perception of love in the first place.

despite being on her ass about compromising her medical license in order to rat jeff out, wilson admits that he won't expose her (FOR THE TIME BEING LOL). this conversation reveals just how big of a ball of contradictions he is. cameron brings up the idea of kids worshipping jeff, a word that jeff himself defined earlier as "to love unquestioningly and uncritically," and wilson immediately takes issue.

"if love is based on lies, does that mean it's not a real feeling?...have you ever cheated? well, i have. you want to punish him? good for you. but you can't do it without hurting the people who love him."

damn, wilson. what a very harsh, shallow, and selfish way to go about life. no wonder why cameron takes a shot at you and your failed marriages: "is that how you justified lying to your wives?" oh, wait, you weren't finished?

"i always told them."

wilson is so persona-heavy that he can't even keep up the weight during a conversation that he started. this reopens the issue over love in 2x05 and reaffirms wilson's answer - can love exist without truth? not really. to cameron, wilson confirms that he's cheated, and that either he's lying about what love is, or stating that he's never loved his wives because he's been truthful with all of them.

and this conversation, this revelation, unnerves wilson so much that he does, in fact, rat cameron out. stacy just happens to not believe him. this is crazy petty of wilson (and not wholly in character, imo), which speaks to how much this false idea of love that he forces upon himself hurts him. this is how wilson lives. strung up by his obsession to remain morally upstanding, and failing himself every time because he's weak-willed (in this respect).

he makes a final attempt at absolving himself to cameron (and the audience tbh) when she confesses that she fell in love with her husband's best friend. he looks legitimately relieved when she admits to the first half:

this prompts him to make an insane admission of his own: "everything was fine. i met someone who *clears throat* made me feel...funny. good. and i didn't want to let that feeling go."*

then, riding the wave of having found a potential infidelity confidant, wilson assures cameron that, "what happened to you...how can anyone go through that alone? you can't control your emotions."

aaaaand cue cameron's fantastic retort.

i think wilson is profoundly affected by this realization that NO, there is no justifying your cheating, even at the metaphorical altar of house md's current leading moral compass. when he says that "you'd be surprised what you can live with," he sounds excessively bitter. for good measure, 2x06 hands us these visual parallels: cameron content at home, reliving memories, versus wilson, restless at the hospital...

i LOVE when these 2 interact. it never ever bodes well.

now for a major question i have, plus part of my wilson comphet thesis:

who the hell was he talking about to cameron there? (THANK YOU, LOVELY MOOT, FOR HELPING ME FIX THIS) he's talking about the time he cheated on bonnie. if he has had 3 wives, seasons 1 and 2 would have seen him with the mythical julie, who he's about to lose anyways.

i'm not arguing at all that wilson is talking about house here...mostly because i can't textually swing it. but, if you'll walk with me, i can explain further why this exchange is so crazy.

wilson admits, in a roundabout way, to not loving his wives. as we know, and will come to know more, he finds needy people, "fixes" them, resents them, and moves on. he needs to feel needed; it's not sustainable.

cameron has just described falling in love with a best friend who did not exist in her and her deceased husband's domestic sphere. they fell in love at the hospital. their bond, rendezvous, etc. was spatially founded there, already a future workplace for cameron.

wilson is thrilled to learn that someone as morally upstanding as cameron has Something Wrong With Her Love Life. in an episode underscored by diagnosing everyone's own Normal, for a moment, he thinks he's find a normal that's compatible with his own...until it's not. cameron doesn't actually have the same issue (for one thing, she's a better person than he is lol).

currently, wilson cannot exist peacefully within his own domestic space because his relationship with julie (most likely) is so bad. he's taking refuge in the hospital.

wilson is bitter, frustrated, and a little disgusted by his own admission of "you'd be surprised what you can live with." cameron has confirmed to wilson that he's in the wrong. that he's wrong.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY FUNNY. HOW WAS IT DIFFERENT.

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO GIVE UP THE FEELING.

WHY DO WE NEVER GET ANY FOLLOW UP ON THIS.

why is the chorus of the concluding song "none of us are free."

[teehee-vibes]

I just found your art via reblogs. Do you ship ash and Clemont or are they just besties

Im afraid that there was NOTHING normal about the 7th Japanese XYZ ending (Kirakira sung by Yūki Kaji).

[starscr0ss]

im thinking about celestia and the abyss being literal opposites (chaos and order) and im thinking about childe and lumine being sort of embodiments of that, just not in the way we think. after the latest natlan quest its clear to us what the fatui intends and what they want- i think the tsaritsa more than anything loves humanity, which is why she directly opposes celestia who are known for bringing down different civilizations. childe, as Her weapon and Her blade is an extenction of that: he's a blade forged by the abyss, bathed in Her holyness, meant to strike down those who sin. lumine (talking solely about traveler lumine) is the literal sister of the prince of the abyss, she has clear ties to it and at this point in the story still is hesitant about fully opposing him (i love angst). her entire story revolves around chaose and disrupting celestia's (and the fatui's) order. isnt that fun

i think what childe longs for the most is control- control of himself, his life, his powers, his story, his fate. i think what lumine wants the most is freedom, which is just another phacet of chaos

anyways. you see it. the themes are theming

[campbyler]

do you think that both of you think about the world and your lives the way that you write? As in, are the inner thought styles of mike and will the same as the way you guys think about the world and have thoughts, not in subject matter obviously but in style? Like the highly detailed thinking that observes every tiny thing and notes down every aspect of each choice and action and surroundings? Or did you both adopt this as a way of characterising mike and will as teenagers?

ooh this is such an interesting ask and i have actually thought about this quite often over the last couple years, and we’ve talked about it a couple times as well!! for me, the way i write is often really similar to the way my thoughts work, mostly for larger blocks of narration where the character is just thinking or reasoning with themselves, and especially for more casual/humorous sequences as opposed to ones where i’m trying to be a bit more flowery or evocative with my word choice. it’s really easy for me to get carried away writing these bits because usually whatever is in my brain will get directly word vomited out onto the page, which often means long nonsensical thought loops and very accidentally unserious figures of speech. i do find there are certain characters that are easier for me to do this with: mike for one, obviously, but also buck in the 911 wip i was working on for a while (rip) and patrick zweig in my challengers wip (rip x2) — which im realizing as i type this is basically just a list of characters that scream adhd to me. lol.

other characters like will are not As natural for me in this specific way, but i’ve gotten comfortable enough writing him and his voice for it to happen anyway. and others (vi from my arcane wip, loki from my lokius fic) are muchhh harder to write because they don’t really feel like my inner voice nearly as much, so i have to hold myself back more and really think about whether i am writing from My head or Theirs, if that makes sense. i also get a lot of “yeah i can really hear your voice coming through in this” from my friends when i share excerpts of fics in certain povs with them, so i guess it’s not just in my head! + thea might have thoughts to add but i can confirm that there are also lots of times where she’s written something and i just like read it in her voice because it’s totally something she would say or do, either irl when we are together or just over text. and a lot of the hyper-describing of thoughts and surroundings is honestly equal parts a mixture of my natural thoughts and also just my process for setting a scene, which mostly goes something along the lines of “picture the place, picture the things in the place, describe the things in the place in the clearest but least awkward way possible.” probably this leads to some more describing and noticing and such than i would naturally do in my own head but 🤷🏽‍♀️ honestly it’s pretty close i think

[mids-dumbbrain]

Viktor and Enenra lore post

This contains spoilers for all of Enenra's Shadow, which you can read on @mediocres-writing-blog

FULL NAME: Viktor Wilson (originally Arbeid) and Enenra

AGE: Viktor (as of Enenra's Shadow) is 18 and Enenra's age is unknown (estimated to be thousands of years old)

GENDER: male (he/him pronouns for both)

VIKTOR'S PERSONALITY TRAITS: overly serious, sarcastic smartass, rarely comedic, socially anxious

ENENRA'S PERSONALITY TRAITS: monotone, sensible, acts like a massive prick to Viktor but genuinely likes him

BIOLOGY: Human, quarter-part Outworlder (father is half-outworlder)

PARENTS: Nico Ghai (paternal) and Melisa Wilson (maternal)

REFERENCE SHEET:

STORY: Born and raised in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Viktor is the (previously) bastard son of Red Robin and Melisa Wilson. Living in the Dobrinja settlement, he has a dark exterior and a heart of Gold. One day as he was walking home from school, Enenra latched onto him without his knowledge, and after commiting actual murder with his newfound host, Enenra ran away and hid under the bridge to hide under a bridge and introduced himself to Viktor. After a few days at school, Viktor has found his mother Melisa sick with an unknown disease that will kill her eventually. While walking around to go home, he met a man named Isaac, who told him of a flower that can heal his mom's condition. While Enenra was hella skeptical, Viktor had nothing better to do and went on a private plane with him to china, where the flower was located. Once they landed, a taxi driver and friend of, Gus, picked Viktor up and crazy taxi'd him to the entrance to the forest where it was located. The two took a break in a cafe, met a really sketchy guy named Nico and Viktor and Enenra picked up where they left off and started looking for the flower. Enenra and Viktor argued over if this plant even exist and as they did they find it. However they were ambushed by Lin Kuei scouts who were easely beaten. After running out of energy and entering Viktor to recharge, Bi-Han and Sektor showed up, Shattered his arm and took him to the Lin Kuei Temple for an interrogation. After failing to interrogate him, Viktor was busted out by a masked mad who turned out to be Nico from the cafe. Nico brought in a Lin Kuei fighter for Enenra to eat, which allowed him to begin healing Viktor's arm. The two then began to break out, defeating squad after squad of armored Lin Kuei. Then Bi-Han and Sektor arrived, fighting the two. While Viktor and Enenra easely disposed of Sektor, leaving her on the ground with a temporarily damaged armor, Nico was having trouble with Fighting Bi-Han. Before Bi-Han can kill him through, Enenra dashed in, grabbing Sub Zero and throwing him into a wall, choking him. As he slowly unformed, Nico looked him in the eyes and began to choke him out. Before he could kill him through, Sektor showed up and put a gun to Nico's head. While in slight shock, Enenra's grip loosened and Viktor was kicked to the side by Sub Zero. Viktor used Enenra's extended hand to throw a barrel, missing sub zero and going into the temple. Nico picked up on this, kicked Sektors gun to the side and threw his dagger at the barrel which was full of gunpowder. Nico lit the dagger on fire with his magic and the barrel exploded, setting fire to the Lin Kuei temple and giving the two time to escape. As the two were looking for road, Nico dropped a truth bomb on Viktor and Enenra, revealing that he is Viktors father.The boy took this relatively well and the two called a taxi, which they jumped out of the second they realized the driver was possessed by Quan Chi's magic. The two were close to the airport where their plane was, and before they landed back in Bosnia and Herzegovina, they crashed because Enenra killed Isaac because Isaac killed the pilot and co-pilot because be was also possessed by Quan Chi. Enenra grabbed Nico and jumped out of the plane, saving them from certain death and landing safely on the ground, protecting Nico from the fall. First thing they did was went to the hospital, ran to Viktor's mother's room and crushed the flower into a liquid, giving it to her. She opened her eyes and was instantly hugged by Viktor and greeted by Nico, who she had not seen in a long time. First thing in the morning, Nico and Viktor picked up Melisa from the hospital and headed home, where the three would rest and spend some proper time together

[pricechecktranslations]

Yes. Is there actually a way to read these books on your page in English on mobile or no and if not can you point me to a place where I can read them in English?

I think you misunderstand. The novel translation themselves are not on this blog. My page is a directory that links to all of the translations. Each novel has its own blog, with each scene being its own post.

Each post has a link at the bottom that links to the next scene, and so on. They also all have a directory that links to each part of the novel (which I just went ahead and made the pinned post on each blog). So while someone on mobile might find it slightly more difficult to navigate, they are all still accessible either way.

Check my pinned post for the mobile-friendly directory link. The novels are in italics.

[rubber-glovs]

How do I tell Lambie her father is 100% neurodivergent

[icharchivist]

was refreshing myself on some old myth for a bit and i read the french and english wiki page for the Charybdis' mythos, and i'm noticing something that i don't know if it's just the wiki being inaccurate or an actual difference (from the linguistic page it seems to be an actual difference) but

In English there's this expression about choosing between two equally bad horrible situations by saying "choosing between Scylla and Charybdis"

But in French the expression is "to fall from Charybdis to Scylla" and instead of a choice it's about managing to get out of a horrible situation only to get thrown into an even worse situation (the equivalent of the English's expression ""falling out of the frying pan into the fire")

if i believe the linguistic page there was a bit of borrowing around and technically both expressions are used in both language, but you're more likely to find the first one in English and the second one in French (very likely because Victor Hugo popularized "to fall from Charybdis to Scylla" with Les Misérables) (does not mean it started in French the origin of the expression is still Greek anyway, just talking about why the saying is more popular in French with weirdos like me)

idk i think it's cool on a sort of metatextual perspective that English People saw this myth and when "oof imagine picking between those two" while French people just chugged a bottle of wine and went "And it's a BINGO and LIFE SUCKS and it NEVER GETS EASIER you get BOTH OF THEM BABEYYY"