#I don't know. I don't know what normal is supposed to be so I don't really have a frame of reference

[prael]

Day 5: Comfort

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

words: 9,650 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Spotting a face in a crowd is like watching lightning. There's a moment that captivates you and then it disappears. You're not even sure where to look for it. It happens in an instant, but when that instant is over, you're not sure if it ever really happened at all.

That is life with Hanni.

She might well be sitting here now, on your couch, with her knees pressed against her chest and a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, but in another moment she will be gone and you will be alone again. The warmth of her body will linger on the cushions beside you. You will press your hand into it, but it will fade. And then there will only be her image in your mind and the memory of her voice.

She is always so busy, and you are always waiting.

"I need a break," she says, and this time, her voice is not in the past, but in the present.

You blink, pulled from your thoughts, and look up at her. She's watching you, her dark eyes soft. She's smiling. You don't know how long you've been staring into space. "Sorry," you say, "what?"

Hanni laughs softly, reaching out and taking your hand. Her skin is soft, unblemished, and her nails manicured. Her fingers are slim and dainty, but there's a surprising strength in them. "I said I need a break," she says, and then she squeezes your hand. "So let's go somewhere."

You don't have to think about it. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know," Hanni says, and her smile grows wider. "Anywhere."

Anywhere.

-

The thing about the coast, the beach, the sea, is that it really goes well with sunshine and especially poorly with the winter. There is something about the ocean and the beach in the winter that is a bit depressing, and yet at the same time, that makes it feel more comfortable, more like you can imagine it as your own. You can walk on the beach without the crowds of summer. The waves are high, the water is cold, the sand is wet and hard, and the wind is sharp and biting, but there's a sense of adventure to it.

"It just doesn't seem to end," Hanni is explaining as you walk side-by-side, wrapped in padded coats and gloves, with thick hats and boots, "It just never seems to stop. It just keeps going. It's the same thing every single day. I wake up. I go to work. I do what I'm supposed to do. I go home. I sleep. I do it again the next day."

You nod, though you can't even pretend to understand it.

"Do you want to know what the worst part is?" she asks.

You nod again. "Of course," you say.

"The worst part is that I'm not even unhappy," Hanni says, looking at you with a smile that bears mixed emotions, "I love it. I just want something more."

"I think that's normal," you say. "It's like how when you finish a book, or a movie, or a TV series, you're sad that it's over, but you're happy that you finished it, and then you start thinking about what to watch next, or what to read next. It's like that."

You wonder if that makes sense.

Hanni nods slowly, and thoughtfully, as though she's taking the time to consider your words. "Yeah," she agrees, and then she laughs, "but sometimes I don't know if I want to finish the book. Sometimes I just want to skip to the end, so I can see what happens, you know?"

You don't. Maybe it's because life is much simpler outside of the spotlight. You don't have to wonder what happens next. What happens next is the same as what always happens. Work. Salary. Bills. Responsibility. It's the same thing, over and over again.

Actually, the only days you get to break the mould, are the days that Hanni is there with you. That is what happens next.

You don't tell her that. You don't think she would be all that impressed with your answer, given what she had said. So you don't say anything at all.

-

Vacationing in temperatures nearing freezing is hard, and the later it gets, the harder it becomes. Yet, the sky is so clear that the stars shine like a million little diamonds, and the moon hangs low and fat in the sky, casting a pale silver light over everything. In that, there's unmatched beauty. On this rooftop cafe, you can almost see the universe in full.

It took a little convincing for the owner downstairs to even open the roof. He called you a few variations of insane for not wanting to cosy up inside the warmth of the cafe. But you, and Hanni, are nothing if not determined. So here you are, on the roof, on the balcony, looking at the sky, at the stars, and the moon. It's a beautiful night, and there's no better place to be on earth.

"I like this," Hanni says, leaning into your side. "You're always good at coming up with ideas."

"I don't know if this is really an idea," you say with a laugh. "It's just sitting on a roof."

"Yeah, but that's the best part. It's just sitting on a roof." Hanni looks at you, her dark eyes glittering in the moonlight. "It's not fancy. It's not expensive. It's just us, on a roof."

"Okay, that's a fair point," you say, and then you laugh again.

You look out over the city, at the twinkling lights, at the stars, at the moon. You take a deep breath of cool air and let it fill your lungs.

"Hey," Hanni says, "I have a question."

You glance back at her. "Shoot."

"Why are we friends?" she asks.

"Wow, deep question," you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but Hanni doesn't laugh. "Um," you say, "Well, I mean, we grew up together, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but we're not kids anymore," she says. "We're adults now. We have lives. Jobs. Responsibilities. I'm an idol and I disappear for months on end. And when I come back, I always just drop in on you and expect you to be there for me, and you are. Every time. Why is that?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I guess I just... I just like you. I always have."

"You don't get sick of me?"

You shrug. "Sometimes, when you do that thing where you hum real loud, I want to strangle you."

It brings about a shared laugh. That right there; if you capture that moment and bottle it, you would present it to her as the reason. Because no matter how long she's gone, and no matter what happens, when she's here and you are laughing together, it feels like home. You don't need to be anywhere or do anything in particular. It's enough just to be.

Hanni shuffles closer, leaning further into your side. "You're my best friend, you know that?"

You nod, your heart swelling. "Yeah," you say, your voice quiet, "I know."

-

You've always been a sucker for romance, but you also recognise that the real world doesn't work that way. Romance is the domain of fiction, of books, of movies, of the stage, of the screen. In the real world, things are messy and complicated and sometimes they don't work out. And that's okay. It's not a tragedy. It's not the end of the world. It's just the way things are.

It's why you can spend time with a girl who's beautiful and talented and smart and funny, without getting caught up in the fantasy that she's going to fall in love with you and sweep you off your feet and carry you into the sunset, or whatever. You've seen enough romantic comedies to know how those stories go, and you know how they end. In the real world, the best you can hope for is friendship, and even that is something to be grateful for. Especially when it's Hanni.

"Which book is that?" Hanni asks as she steps out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and followed by a plume of steam. Her hair hangs wet and heavy around her shoulders, dripping onto the floor. The hotel room is nice, but it's nothing too fancy. You're sure Hanni is used to better.

You look at her for a moment, then close the book in your lap. It's in these pages, that those romance stories play out, or so you tell yourself. "It's nothing," you say. "Just some trashy novel."

She sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes on you. "Is it any good?" she asks. You're not sure if she's interested or just making conversation, but you answer anyway.

"I mean, it's not great literature or anything," you say, "but it's entertaining enough."

"I wouldn't have taken you for the type of person to read romance. I remember you being obsessed with... um... Who was that one author? Michael Connely? It was all detectives and crime."

"Guilty pleasure, I guess."

"What's it about?" Hanni asks. "The book."

You glance down at the cover, which shows a young woman in a flowing dress standing on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The title is in a fancy script, and the author's name is printed beneath it. You shrug. "It's about a girl who's an artist, and she meets this guy, and they have this whirlwind romance."

"And then they get married and have kids and live happily ever after?"

You laugh softly. "No, not quite," you say. "They have a lot of sex, but then they fight all the time and it's messy and dramatic."

"Then what?"

"I don't know, I haven't finished it yet."

"I bet they get back together," she says. "That's always how these things end, right? They have a big fight and then they get back together and it's all sunshine and rainbows."

"I don't know," you say. "Maybe. Probably. It's fiction."

Hanni laughs, shaking her head. "You're so cynical."

"I'm not cynical," you protest. "I'm just realistic."

"Right, right, of course." She stands, moving to the bag of clothes at the foot of the bed, and begins to rummage through it. She pulls out a pair of shorts and a top. "I'm going to get dressed," she says, and then she disappears into the bathroom again, closing the door behind her.

When she emerges, she's wearing a pair of tight black shorts that hug her hips and a white tank top that clings to her curves. Her hair is still damp, and it falls around her shoulders in dark waves. She looks good, and you can't help but admire her. She's beautiful.

You can tell she's aware of the attention, but she ignores it, instead flopping onto the bed beside you and letting out a sigh. "What are we going to do tomorrow?" she asks.

"I was thinking we could just drive up the coast," you suggest. "Maybe stop off in some of the little towns along the way, and see if there's anything interesting."

"Sounds good," she says, and then she rolls onto her side, her head propped up on her hand, looking at you. "You know, you're the first person I thought of when I said I needed a break."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't know why, but I just knew that if I could get away with anyone, it would be you."

"Thanks," you say. You're not sure how to respond to that, but it makes you feel warm inside. "I'm glad I could help."

-

The small towns are wholly uninteresting, but Hanni seems to find something to enjoy in every one of them. There is something about seeing the world through her eyes that makes even the most mundane things seem magical. A little store selling handmade trinkets and cheap souvenirs becomes a treasure trove of hidden gems. An old man playing guitar in the park becomes a musician worth listening to. An old, crumbling building becomes a palace of mystery and intrigue. The world comes alive when Hanni is around, and you can't help but be swept up in it.

You're on the last leg now, and you agreed to drive her home. It's late in the afternoon, the sun is low in the sky, and the horizon is a watercolour painting of pinks, oranges, and purples. It's a beautiful sight, and it makes you think of the painting that Hanni bought earlier. You're not sure what she saw in it, but she seemed to love it, and that's all that matters. She's asleep beside you, her head resting against the window, her breathing slow and steady. She's exhausted, and you don't blame her. She's been going non-stop for the past few days, and you're glad that she finally has a chance to rest.

You pull up outside her place and gently shake her awake. She stirs and blinks up at you, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and she smiles. "Hey," she murmurs, and her voice is soft and husky.

"Hey," you say. "We're here. You're home."

Hanni sits up, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "Already?" she asks. "I didn't mean to sleep the whole way."

"It's okay," you assure her. "Part of taking a break is getting some rest."

She nods, but she doesn't look happy. "I know, but I feel like I missed out on something." She looks at you. "Thank you for driving me home. I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass."

"It's okay," you assure her. "You're always a pain in the ass. I'm used to it by now."

She laughs, but there's a tinge of sadness to it. "Yeah," she says, and then she glances away. Her voice is soft and hesitant. "Are you going to come inside?"

"I can help you with your bag."

"I was thinking more than just that." Her eyes meet yours. "Stay for a bit. I don't want to say goodbye just yet."

"I don't want to intrude," you tell her, knowing that there are four other girls in her place and it's their place as much as it is Hanni's. "Besides, it's getting late."

She reaches over and takes your hand, holding it tightly. "Please."

"Okay," you say, and you can't help but smile at her. "I'll stay for a bit."

It's the first time you've seen the inside of this place, but it's a lot nicer than your little apartment. It's spacious and modern, with a large kitchen and a living room that opens onto a balcony with a view of the city. It's the sort of place you would never be able to afford, but Hanni seems to fit in here perfectly.

There's a girl sprawled out on the couch, eyes closed, earbuds in her ears. You recognize her, from posters and interviews and magazine covers, and music videos. Her name is Minji, and she's got long, dark hair that falls in waves down her back. She's tall and pretty, with a slim build and a face that's both elegant and expressive. She looks like a model, but she's also an idol, a singer, and a dancer. It's a little intimidating.

"Better not wake her," Hanni says. "She gets cranky when she's tired."

You nod. "Right."

"Come on, let's go to my room. We can talk there."

You follow her down a hallway and into a bedroom that's big and bright, with a view of the city. It's tastefully decorated, with a bed that's bigger than yours, a dresser that's bigger than yours, and a desk that's bigger than yours. Everything is bigger here, and you can't help but feel a little out of place.

"I like it in here," you say. "It's nice."

"Thanks," she says, dropping a bag in the corner and you follow her by placing the two you were carrying.

There's a faint sound coming through the wall. Music that you can't quite make out, but it sounds upbeat and peppy. You can hear the bass thumping, and the occasional high-pitched voice singing along.

"That's Dani," Hanni says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "She's always playing music. It drives Minji nuts."

You laugh, leaning against the dresser. "It's kind of cute."

"Yeah, it is. She's a sweetheart." Hanni leans back on her hands, looking at you. "I can't believe this is the first time you've seen where I live."

"It's a nice place," you say. "I'm sure you're comfortable here."

"It's not bad." She shrugs. "It's not really mine, though. I mean, it is, but it's also not. You know what I mean?"

You don't, but you nod anyway.

Hanni sighs, running a hand through her hair. "You should visit more," Hanni says while taking off her jacket, reducing her clothing back down to just that tight white tank top now that she's back in the warmth of her room.

You can't help but look at her, admiring the way her body moves, the way her skin glows in the light. You can't help but want to touch her, to feel her warmth. "I don't know," you say. "I would be kind of out of place."

"You wouldn't be," she says, and her voice is firm. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," you say, and it's true. You miss her all the time, even when she's right here in front of you. You miss her smile, her laugh, her scent.

She looks up at you, her eyes wide and searching. "Do you think about me when I'm gone?" she asks.

"Of course," you say, and you can't help but smile. "All the time."

She smiles, and it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "Good." She stands, walking over to you, and you can smell her shampoo, her perfume, her skin. She reaches out, touching your face, running her fingers over your cheek. "I'm glad," she whispers, and then she leans in and presses her lips to yours.

It's a gentle kiss, soft and sweet, and it lingers for a moment before she pulls away. You're frozen in this moment, unable to think, unable to speak, unable to breathe. You're not sure what just happened, or why it happened, or what it means, or what you should do next.

"I'm sorry," she says, stepping back. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," you say, and it is. It truly is. You don't know why, but it is. You want to kiss her again, to hold her close, to feel her warmth.

"I just... I don't know," she says. "I've been thinking about it for a while, and I just... I don't know."

"It's okay," you say again, and you reach out and take her hand, holding it tight. You look into her eyes. "I'm glad you did."

She looks up at you, and her eyes are wide and searching. "Really?"

"Really." You squeeze her hand. "I'm glad."

"Good," she whispers, and then she leans in again and kisses you. This time, you kiss her back. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close, holding her tight. You can feel her heart beating against your chest, and it's a steady, reassuring rhythm. She tastes of strawberry lip gloss and you can't get enough of it.

You've known Hanni for years, and you've been friends for years, and you've been best friends for years. But it's never been like this. It's never been this close, this intimate, this real. You've never been able to touch her like this, to kiss her like this, to hold her like this. And it feels amazing.

You're not sure how long you stand there, kissing, holding each other, but eventually you break apart and look at each other, smiling.

"What are we doing?" she asks, her voice low and husky.

"I don't know," you admit. "But I like it."

"Me too." She smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "Can I tell you something? It's been on my mind for two days now."

You nod, and she takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately," she says. "A lot. I mean, I've always thought about you, but now it's different. Now it's like I can't stop thinking about you. Well, I can, but not for long."

She's stumbling over her words, and you can't help but find it cute. You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of her face, and she smiles at you.

"I don't know what it means," she says. "I'm not sure if I want it to mean anything. I'm not sure if I'm ready for it to mean anything. I'm not sure if I'm even ready to think about what it might mean." She laughs, and it's a nervous laugh, and you can tell she's struggling to find the right words. "I guess I'm just saying that I'm not sure what I want, but I know that I want to be with you. And I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but it's how I feel."

"It makes perfect sense," you say, and you mean it. You know exactly what she means. You've felt the same way.

"I'm scared," she says. "This feeling is new. It's exciting. But it's scary, too. I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to ruin our friendship. But at the same time, I want more. I want to be with you. And I don't know how to do that."

"It's okay," you tell her. "We'll figure it out together."

She smiles, and it's a shy smile, but it's genuine. "So you're not going to run away?" she asks.

"No," you say. "No, I'm not."

"Good," she says. "Because I don't think I could handle that."

You laugh, and she laughs with you, and it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the tension between you start to ease, and you relax into each other, holding each other close. You kiss her again, and this time it's a little less hesitant, a little less unsure. You kiss her, and you let yourself fall into her, and you let yourself forget about everything else, and you let yourself just enjoy the moment. You kiss her, and you feel her arms wrap around you, and you feel her body press against yours, and you feel her warmth, and her softness, and her strength. You kiss her, and you feel your heart race, and you feel your blood rush, and you feel your skin flush, and you feel your head spin.

And when you finally break away, breathless and dizzy, she's looking at you with a mixture of wonder and desire and something else that you can't quite put your finger on. But it's a good look. It's a look that makes you feel happy, and excited, and scared, and alive.

"So what now?" you ask.

"I don't know," she says. "I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," you admit.

"Well, uh..." she trails off, looking away. "I guess we can just keep doing what we're doing, but like, over there." She points to her bed, and you can't help but chuckle.

"I like that idea," you say, before pulling off your jacket.

"Woah, what are you—?"

"It's just my jacket, I'm not..."

You both laugh and Hanni does that thing where she covers her face with her palms and shakes her head.

"Okay, I'm an idiot," she says, before throwing herself backwards onto her bed.

You approach her, but you're still nervous. You place a knee on the bed, move closer to her, and lean over her. She looks up at you, and her eyes are wide and bright, and full of emotion. You lean down and kiss her, and this time, there's no hesitation, no fear, no doubt. This time, it's a kiss of passion.

You sink into her as the kiss deepens, and you feel her hands on your back, pulling you closer, pressing you against her. You feel her tongue slide against yours, and then you taste her mouth, and it's a taste that you want more of. You taste her, and you smell her, and you feel her.

All you can do is what comes naturally, so next you're moving your hand from the bed and onto her hip, and slowly moving it along her waist, sliding it under her top. Her body tenses slightly as the palm of your hand touches her soft, warm skin.

"Are you okay?" you ask between kisses.

"Yes," she says, and the look in her eyes tells you the same. "Don't stop."

So you don't. You keep kissing her, touching her and exploring her. Your hand moves up her side, feeling the curve of her waist, and the rise of her ribcage. You brush the edge of her bra and hesitate, but then her hand reaches for yours and guides it under the fabric. You feel her breast against your palm, soft and warm and firm, and you feel her nipple, hard and erect, and you feel her tremble beneath you.

"You're beautiful," you whisper to her.

She blushes and smiles before you slip your tongue against hers again.

You never allowed yourself to appreciate Hanni for her beauty. It's not like you were blind to it. It's just that you didn't let yourself see it. Maybe deep down you knew that if you did, you wouldn't be able to look at her as just a friend anymore. So you suppressed that part of yourself. But now, with her lying here beneath you, you can't help but appreciate not only how pretty she is, but just how hot her body is, especially as your hands explore her. She's toned, but soft, and you can't get enough of her.

Her own hands are busy, too. They're running up and down your back, and then they're slipping under your shirt, and you can feel her nails scratching lightly against your skin.

"Can we take off our tops?" she asks suddenly, breaking the kiss. The question is kind of awkward, you both feel this, there's this shared twinge of embarrassment that you can sense in each other. It's not romantic, it's not sexy, it's just a bit silly.

"Sure," you say, and you sit up and pull your shirt over your head. You look down at her and suddenly feel so exposed, even if she is the one in tight shorts and her legs on either side of your hips, you're the one that's topless.

Hanni sits up too, and pulls her top off, revealing her light blue bra. She's moving a little erratic as she reaches behind her back, so much so that she fumbles the clasp twice before unfastening it. She lets the straps slide down her arms and throws it aside, quickly crossing her arms over her chest. Her face is a deep red.

She's embarrassed. You've never seen her like this before. You've seen her nervous, shy, even scared, but never embarrassed. And it's adorable. You're sitting just a few inches from each other, yet she's still looking down and to the side.

"Hey," you whisper, and then she looks at you. "You're beautiful."

She smiles and uncrosses her arms, and your eyes move down from her face to her breasts. You've seen her in a bra, but not like this. Never this close, never bare, never with the intention of touching them.

So, you do. You place your hand on one of her tits, and then she's leaning into you and you're kissing again. She fits so perfectly into your hand, and you can't resist gently massaging it. Instinct takes over. You're not thinking anymore, you're just doing what feels right. So you break the kiss and move your head down to her other breast. You start kissing around her nipple, and then you take it in your mouth, and you hear her moan. It's a sound that sends shivers down your spine, and then she's tangling her fingers in your hair, pressing your face into her chest.

You spend some time like this, alternating between her two breasts, licking, sucking, and nibbling on her nipples. It's a little clumsy, and you don't really know what you're doing, so you just follow what her soft little moans tell you. You love the feel of her tits against your face, the taste of her skin, the sound of her breathing.

And then she's pulling you back up and kissing you, and you're lost in the sensation of her lips on yours, her tongue on yours, her body against yours. You can feel her heart beating, and it's beating fast.

"You're so hot," you whisper, and she smiles and blushes.

"So are you," she says, and then she's pushing you down onto the bed, rolling on top of you. She kisses you again, and then she's kissing your neck, your collarbone, your chest. She's kissing her way down your body, and you're not sure what to do, so you just lie there and let her explore. You become more aware of your own body, and the sensation of her wet kisses against your skin. You become more aware of the discomfort between your legs. It's only now, in this moment of respite from kissing her lips and her tits, that you realise she must have felt it. The whole time. Since you started kissing her, and you laid yourself against her. She must have felt the bulge in your pants pressing against her crotch. You're mortified. You can't even look at her, you just stare up at the ceiling with an embarrassed smile on your face.

"Hey," she whispers, and you look down at her. She's kneeling between your legs, looking up at you. Her eyes are wide and bright, and she has a big goofy grin on her face. She looks so cute. "Did I do this?"

She's not looking at you. You follow her gaze down to the bulge in your pants.

"Uhhh..." you're not sure what to say. "Yes. Probably. I think so. I'm sorry."

She giggles, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. "It's okay," she says. "It's nice. I, uh, I like it."

You laugh nervously, and she laughs with you, and then she's unbuttoning your pants, and you're not sure what's happening. You feel like you should say something, but you can't think of anything, so you just lie there and let her do it. You lift your hips so she can pull down your jeans and underwear in one motion. Although you can't bring yourself to look down, the feeling of being exposed is overwhelming. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"I've never done this before," she says. "I mean, I've seen one before. On TV, or in a movie, or something. But I've never... I don't really know what to do."

"It's okay," you say, your voice shaky, and you almost don't recognise it. "You don't have to—" Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel her fingers touch you.

"I want to," she whispers, and then she's gripping your shaft in her hand, and you can feel her fingers wrapping around it.

You're hard, and she's touching you, and it feels incredible. It feels incredible and wrong and exciting and scary and confusing and perfect and you can't think straight.

"Is this okay?" she asks, and her voice is soft and hesitant.

"Yes," you reply, and you can't keep the desire out of your voice.

She starts to stroke you slowly, and you can feel her fingers moving up and down your length, and it feels so good. Her touch is so delicate, so gentle, so loving, so careful, and you can't get enough of it.

You can't help but look down at her now. She's staring at you with a mixture of fascination and desire, and you can see the way her eyes move as she takes in every inch of you. That's Hanni, right there, and you can't believe that she's doing this to you.

"I've never seen one this close before," she whispers, and then she's leaning in, and you feel her breath on you. "I didn't realise it would be so warm. Or that it would feel so... alive."

She's still holding you, and you're still looking at her, and then she's looking up at you, and your eyes meet. Her expression is a mix of curiosity and lust. It's an expression that sends a shiver down your spine.

She kisses the tip. It's a gentle kiss, and it sends a jolt of pleasure through you. She looks up at you again, and there's a smile on her lips.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes," you breathe, and you're surprised by the huskiness in your voice.

"Good." She kisses you again, and then she's running her tongue over the tip. "It tastes funny," Hanni laughs gently and smiles. "I don't know if I like it yet, but I think I do."

She licks you again, and then she's kissing you, and then she's licking you, and then suddenly she's doing both. Her lips part in one of her kisses and she takes the head into her mouth so her tongue can work uninterrupted. She's licking around the head, and then she's taking you deeper, and you can feel her tongue exploring your shaft. It's incredible. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before. You've seen this before, on screen, or in magazines, or whatever, but nothing could have prepared you for the sensation of having her mouth around you.

"Oh god," you groan. "Hanni..."

It's all encouragement for her. A signal to her unsure mind that yes, this is exactly what you want and it feels as good as anything that you could have imagined. You're already sensitive, so every little movement of her tongue sends a shockwave of pleasure through you. You can't keep your eyes off her, watching her lips slide down your shaft, her tongue flicking at the head, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks you, her eyes looking up at you, checking that what she's doing is right.

She's breathing heavily from her nose, and the hot hair is kissing your skin. You can't believe you're seeing her like this, that this is the girl you grew up with.

"Hanni..."

She doesn't respond. She's too focused on the task at hand, on making you feel good. And she's doing a good job of it. A very good job of it.

"Hanni..."

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and she stops moving her head. "Is something wrong?" she asks, her voice muffled by your cock. She pulls her head back, letting you slip out of her mouth, and a string of saliva connects the tip to her lower lip.

"No, no, no," you say quickly, "nothing's wrong. I just... I don't think I'm going to last much longer." You're embarrassed. You've never been in a situation like this before, and you're not sure what to expect, or what you're supposed to do. But you know that you're close to cumming, and you don't want to do it in her mouth.

"That's okay, just don't let the other girls hear us," she says, and then she's smiling at you, and then she's taking you in her mouth again, and then she's moving her head up and down, and then you're watching her cheeks hollow as she sucks you. Tongue running patterns over the underside of your length, you can't take much more.

"Oh god, Hanni, I'm going to—"

She doesn't stop. She doesn't slow down. She doesn't even flinch. She just keeps going, and you can't hold back any longer. You can feel the orgasm building inside you, and you can't stop it, and you don't want to, and you're not sure if you should, and you're not sure what to do, and—

You cum, and it's the most intense orgasm of your life. You can't help but cry out in pleasure, and you feel your hips buck involuntarily, and you feel her tongue continue to lap at the head as your cum spills out of her mouth. She doesn't pull back, she doesn't stop, she doesn't do anything to stop you from cumming in her mouth, she just keeps going, and you can feel her swallowing some of it. Some pools on your skin.

"Oh god," you say, and your voice is a whimper, and you're still trembling with pleasure.

Hanni pulls away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks up at you, and there's a mischievous grin on her face.

"Wow," she says, and then she's giggling. "I wasn't expecting that!"

"Are you okay?" you ask, and your voice is shaky.

"I'm good." She smiles and crawls up so she can rest her head on your shoulder, half draping her body over yours, your bare skin touching. She kisses your neck, her breath tickles your skin. You put an arm around her, holding her close. "I didn't know that would be so fun. Can I do it again?"

"Not right now," you say through strained breath. "Maybe later."

"Okay." She's looking up at you, and she has that same goofy grin on her face. "Was that okay? I've never done it before."

"It was more than okay," you say, and you can hear the awe in your own voice. "That was incredible."

"Really?" She sounds pleased with herself. "I wasn't sure what I was doing."

"It was perfect," you say, and then you kiss her forehead, and then you kiss her lips, and then you're lost in the sensation of her body pressed against yours. You can't believe that you're here, that you're doing this, that you're with her.

"I'm glad," she murmurs, and then she's looking at you again. "So, what now?"

"Can I try?" you ask. "With you, I mean. Can I... use my mouth on you?"

"You don't have to," she says quickly, but then her voice trails off. She seems unsure.

"I want to," you say. "If you want me to."

Her smile is wide and her eyes are bright. "I do," she says. She kisses you on the lips, and then she's rolling onto her back.

You lean over her, and your hands are shaking, and your heart is racing, and you're not sure what to do, or where to start, or if you're going to be any good at this, but you want to try. You want to make her feel as good as she made you feel. You want to taste her, to explore her with your tongue, to learn what makes her moan, what makes her gasp, what makes her squirm. You want to make her feel as good as you do.

So you start where you began earlier, at her chest, and you spend some time just appreciating them. Kissing them. Running your tongue over her nipples. Squeezing. Massaging. Listening to her breathing change.

"I love these," you mutter. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful."

Hanni doesn't respond with much more than a pleasured hum, but she doesn't need to. You can tell she's enjoying this, enjoying the attention. And it's a good thing too, because you have no intention of stopping. Not until she tells you to, at least. You keep kissing and licking and sucking her nipples, and you can feel her arching her back, pressing herself into your mouth, and you can hear her breath growing heavier, and her heart races.

Hanni gives a deep, full-bodied moan, the loudest she has so far. You take it as a signal to descend, and you trail kisses over her stomach, which makes her giggle and squirm. You feel the heat radiating off her body. Her scent is strong—intoxicatingly so.

When you reach the waistband of her tight black shorts, you pause for a moment, and then you hook your fingers under the elastic and pull them down. You're not even sure what to expect underneath, but whatever you had in your mind, the reality is so much better. Her black panties are lacy, and they hug her body perfectly, accentuating every curve, every dip, every contour. They're so sexy, so beautiful, that you can't help but stare. Your mouth hangs open and you can feel your dick stirring back to life already. You can't believe that you're here, that you're seeing her like this.

You take time to admire her. Her thighs and her hips and the delicate apex underneath the wet panties. Then you look up her body, taking in the way her wide hips give way to the curve of her waist, the way her breasts rise and fall with each breath, the way her hair frames her face, the way her eyes shine in the dim light, and they stare at you, accompanying her smile.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, and her voice is barely a whisper. "I know that face. You always have that look on your face when you're thinking about something."

"You're the most beautiful girl in the world," you say, and you mean it, and you're not sure why you've never told her before.

Her smile widens and she laughs, covering her face. "You're so cheesy," she says, but you can tell that she likes it, that she appreciates it, that she loves it.

"Can't help it," you say, and then you lean down and kiss her stomach again, the muscles tense under your lips, and her breath catches. You kiss your way down to the edge of her panties, and then you pause.

"Is this okay?" you ask, and you're not sure why, but you feel like you need her permission, even having come this far.

"More than okay," she replies, and her voice is soft and breathy, and full of desire.

You smile, and then you kiss the edge of her panties again, and then you start to pull them down. You can feel the fabric stick to her skin as you peel them off her body, revealing her pussy. The sight of it takes your breath away, and you can't help but stare. It's beautiful, of course, but it's also more than that. It's Hanni. It's the most intimate part of her body, the most vulnerable, the most sensitive, the most private, and it's right there in front of you, and she's permitting you to touch it, to taste it, to explore it. She trusts you.

You place your palms on her thighs and spread her legs. You move your head between them and you plant the most delicate of kisses on her wet skin. Her body twitches. Another kiss, and another, and another, and you can feel her legs tremble. You can feel her body tense.

"You're so wet," you say, and you can't keep the awe out of your voice. You can feel her juices on your lips, and you lick them off, tasting her for the first time. It's sweet yet musky, and it's a taste that you want more of. You lick her now, a few tentative ones over her lips and then one from bottom to top, ending at her clit. She reacts more to that last one. So that's the spot, then. You repeat that pattern a few times.

"Oh god, that feels so good," Hanni moans, her head tilting back and her eyes closing.

"I can do better," you whisper, and then you focus on the peak of your previous licks, pushing your tongue between her lips where she's most sensitive. Hanni gasps, her hips bucking involuntarily, and her thighs tense, her hands gripping the bedsheets, and she's so responsive, so sensitive, so receptive to your touch, that you can't help but smile. You keep licking, flicking your tongue over her clit, teasing it, circling it, and you can feel her thighs tremble, her hips rock, and her breathing grows heavier and heavier.

"Oh, oh, oh," she murmurs, and her voice is a whimper, and it's so cute, and so sexy, that you can't help but moan into her pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through her body, and she whimpers again.

Now it's your turn to lock your lips against her, enclosing around her sensitive nub. You suckle on her clit, running your tongue over it, and she's rocking her hips against every movement of your tongue. It's the sexiest thing you've ever heard. All the gasps, whimpers, and moans. You could listen to it all day.

In a moment of realisation, you worry if the others can hear it. If they're in their own rooms, then probably not, but you know that at least one of them is asleep in the living room. Your head is buried in your best friend's pussy. What if someone knocks on her door? How would you explain this? What if—

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Hanni cries and her voice is louder than before, and you can hear the desperation in her tone, and you can feel her body tensing, her back arching, and her hands gripping the sheets tighter and tighter. "Don't stop, don't stop," she moans.

Her thighs clasp around your head and all your worries about being caught are washed away with a new fear. You're trapped between her thighs. Your head is being crushed by the muscles you were just admiring. You're going to die here, between her legs. It's a pretty good way to go, though, so you accept it. At least you got to eat her out.

But then, as suddenly as it came, the pressure is released. Her legs go limp, and her body sags, and her breathing slows, and her hands relax, and she's lying there, panting, and trembling, and whimpering.

"Holy shit," she whispers, and her voice is hoarse, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride. You made her cum. You made her cum hard. "That was amazing," she whines. "I didn't know it would feel that good."

You smile, and you kiss her pussy, and then her inner thigh, and then the crease of her hip, and then you move up her body, kissing her stomach, and her breasts, and her neck, and finally you reach her lips. You kiss her, and she kisses you back, and then you're both laughing, giggling, and smiling, and holding each other close.

"That was incredible," she says, and her voice is soft and breathy, and she's looking up at you with wide, sparkling eyes. She kisses you again, and then you're lost in the sensation of her body pressed against yours.

"I didn't know it would be that good," you admit. "I thought it would be nice, but not like that."

"Me neither," she whispers, and she's looking at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You smile, and you kiss her again, and then you're both lying there, holding each other, basking in the afterglow.

"So," she says, after a few moments. "I don't want this to be over. I want to keep feeling like this."

"What do you mean?"

She smiles, and her eyes are full of mischief. "You know what I mean."

"Are you sure?" you ask, and you can't keep the excitement out of your voice.

"Yes," she whispers, and her voice is soft and breathy, and full of desire. "I've been thinking about it for a while. There's, uh, things in the top drawer."

"Things?"

"Just open it, dummy," she laughs, and you do. Inside, there's a sealed pack of condoms. You pick it up, and you can feel your heart racing, and you can feel the blood rushing to your cock, and you can feel the excitement building inside you. You turn back to her, and she's looking at you with a mixture of love and lust. Her eyes are full of anticipation, and she's biting her lip.

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?" you ask, and you can't help but grin. "You've had these just waiting here?"

She blushes and looks away, but then she looks back at you and smiles shyly. "Maybe."

You take one out and kneel back on the bed, between Hanni's spread legs. You know what to do. Simple. But the way that Hanni is looking at you, with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, is making it difficult to focus, and your hands are shaking.

You manage it, though. You roll the condom down your shaft and look at her. Her smile is wide and bright, and you can't help but smile back. She reaches for you and pulls you down on top of her.

"I can't believe we're doing this," you say.

"Me neither," she giggles, and then you're kissing again, and it's a hungry kiss, full of passion and desire. You feel her hand move between you and take hold of your cock, and you feel her guide it to her entrance, and then you're both pressing forward. The kisses are replaced by shared gasps, and your forehead comes to rest against hers. She's so warm, so wet, and so tight, that you have to pause for a moment, just to catch your breath, and she does the same, her eyes closed, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Are you okay?"

She nods quickly and then tells you, "Keep going."

So you do. You push forward, slowly, carefully, and she takes you, inch by inch, until you're fully inside her, and you're both breathing heavily, and you're both trembling, and you're both holding onto each other, and it feels incredible.

"Wow," she whispers, and her voice is a whimper, and you can't help but smile.

"Yeah," you breathe, and you're smiling too, and then you're both sharing a laugh. "Doesn't it hurt? I thought it was supposed to—"

"A little, but don't worry," she tells you. "I'll let you know if it gets too much. Just... take it slow, okay?"

"Okay," you say, and then you start to move, slowly, and carefully, and her body responds to every movement, every thrust, every inch. Her hips rock against yours, and her hands grip your back, and her nails dig into your skin, and her lips press against your neck. She's so unbelievably tight.

"Hanni," you whisper, and your voice is a low growl, and you can't help but groan as you feel her muscles clench around your cock.

"Don't stop," she whines, and her voice is a needy whimper, her body is pressing against yours, and her legs are wrapping around your hips, pulling you closer, keeping you deep inside of her.

You pick up speed, but not too fast. You don't want this to end, you never want this to end, but you can't help yourself. It feels so good. It feels so right. It feels perfect. It feels like everything you've ever wanted.

"Oh god," you groan, and you plant your hand against her—half on her thigh, half on her ass. You grasp her soft flesh as you try to bury yourself deeper. Her body tenses in response. She likes it. "You're amazing."

"Mmm... more..." she moans, and you can't help but smile.

You start to thrust harder, faster, and her hips start to rock against yours, and you're both lost in the sensation. Breathless whimpers are broken by raw moans, which you try to stifle with kisses so no one can hear you, and then you're both lost in the rhythm, the back and forth, the ebb and flow. You're both in sync, both moving together, and it's the most beautiful thing in the world. You can feel the pressure building inside you, and you can feel her body tensing, and her breathing quickening, and you're both so close.

Hanni brings her hands to your head, running her fingers into your hair and pulling your ear to her mouth. She lets out a moan right into it, before telling you, "Take it off." You're not sure it's a good idea, but she's insistent. "I want to feel you. All of you. Please. Take it off."

"Hanni... I don't think—"

You're cut off by her moving her hands to your shoulders and pushing you onto your back. Hanni leans over you and looks down at your throbbing cock. "Let's do it properly." She reaches down and rolls the rubber off your shaft, leaving it bare. Your stomach clenches in a mix of excitement and fear. She throws the condom aside and then she climbs on top of you, straddling your waist, and her pussy hovers above your cock.

"Hanni, we shouldn't—" you start, but she cuts you off again. She takes hold of your shaft and rubs the tip of your cock along her wet folds. Her juices coat your cock. Her warm pussy teases the tip. Your eyes roll back in your head.

"It's okay," she whispers, and then she pushes your tip inside her, and she gasps, and you moan, and then she's sinking onto you, and you're sliding up inside her, and you're both breathing heavily, and you're both moaning, and you're both lost in the sensation.

"Oh god," you moan, and you can't help but grab her hips and pull her down, and you can't help but thrust up into her. You're bare. You're inside her, skin-to-skin, and it's the most incredible thing you've ever felt. The way she rocks her hips drives you insane. She's so warm, so wet, and so tight, that you're not sure how long you can last.

"Don't cum," she whispers, and her voice is a needy whimper, and she's looking down at you with wide, pleading eyes. "Not yet."

"I'm not sure I can—"

"You have to," she says, and she's looking down at you with desperate eyes, and you can't help but nod. "Please," she says, and she's grinding her hips against you, and she's riding you, and she's fucking herself with your cock, and she's moaning, and whimpering, and gasping, and you're both lost in the sensation.

"I'm close," you warn her. "I can't—"

"Wait for me," she whines, and you can feel her body start to tense, and you can feel her walls clench around your cock, and you can feel her start to tremble. "I'm—"

With a loud moan, her body tenses and cuts her words off. Her pussy clenches, and her hands grip your chest, nails digging into your skin, and her eyes squeeze shut. Her whole body quivers as her orgasm washes over her, and you can't help but thrust up into her, pushing yourself as deep as you can go. She cries out in pleasure, and you feel a heat in the pit of your stomach.

You thought nothing would be as intense as when you burst into Hanni's mouth, yet just half an hour later, you realise that was nothing compared to this. The rush is so powerful, so overwhelming, that it almost knocks the wind out of you. You can't breathe, you can't think, and you can't stop the flood of cum that's filling her. You can feel it, and she can feel it, and it's so hot, and so thick, and so wet, that you can't help but groan.

Pulsing and throbbing inside her, Hanni keeps riding you, her hips rolling, her thighs trembling and her cute little tits bouncing. Your cum spills out of her, and the mess is pooling beneath you both. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You can't help but smile as you watch her. She's so perfect, so beautiful, and you're inside her—the reason she's cumming.

She collapses on top of you, her head on your shoulder, and her body limp. She's breathing heavily, and you're both covered in a sheen of sweat. You wrap your arms around her and hold her close, and she does the same, her fingers running through your hair, and she's kissing your neck, and your cheek, and your lips. You kiss her back, and it's a soft, gentle kiss, full of love, affection, and gratitude.

"I can't believe we just did that."

You can feel her smile against your skin. "I can't believe I let you cum in me," she giggles. "It felt so good, though." She lifts herself up and looks down at you, her smile wide and her eyes sparkling. "Did I do okay?"

"You were incredible," you say, and you mean it.

"Maybe next time we could—"

"Next time?" you ask, making sure you heard her right.

"Yes," she says, and her voice is soft and shy, and she's looking at you with a mixture of love and lust. "I want to do that again. And again. And again."

"Me too," you say, and you can't help but smile.

-

She's asleep. You're lying in her bed, watching her. She's so beautiful, and you can't stop looking at her. You can't stop thinking about her. About what you've done. You're not sure how you're going to get to sleep. She's snuggled up to you, her head resting on your shoulder, and her legs tangled with yours. Her breathing is slow and steady. She's peaceful, and you're so happy. You can't remember the last time you were this happy.

You can't remember the last time you felt so content. It's strange. It's like you've been living your life in a fog. You've been drifting, and you've been lost, and you've been searching for something, but Hanni has been right here. She was right in front of you, all along.

You just didn't realise it, until now.

[sunnywalnut]

This is what people mean when they say that art is supposed to disturb the comforted and comfort the disturbed.

People with these kinds of intrusive thoughts(ESPECIALLY folks with mental disorders that are already stigmatized, like personality disorders or cause hallucinations/breaks with reality) are CONSTANTLY in fear of these intrusive impulses. And sometimes, people also experience lack of impulse control. So the bridge between "I have no reason to attack that child" and "ok but what if I did" REALLY ISN'T THAT FAR IN THEIR MIND.

Not because they WANT it to be, but because sometimes intrusive thoughts come at extremely awful times when you're most vulnerable.

I myself struggle with intrusive thoughts like this. Have I acted on them? No. Never. And I never want to. But I have acted on other intrusive thoughts, mostly due to paranoia (yes hello I am one of the young people with bi polar that genuinely thought that running away to a different state without any money would solve all my problems. It didn't. I got up until all my shit was packed before people found out and got me help. Thank GOD.)

BUT THIS IS WHAT I MEAN!!!

WE DON'T ACTUALLY WANT THIS!!! THAT'S WHY IT'S A MENTAL ILLNESS!!!! THAT'S WHY WE NEED HELP!!! BECAUSE IT'S NOT NORMAL TO THINK EVERYONE HATES YOU AND KNOWS SECRETS ABOUT YOU THAT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW BECAUSE THEY'RE NOT TRUE!!!!

End the frickin stigma istg. A lot of us have trauma that correlates with these intrusive thoughts and you acting like we're freaks only adds to it.

STOP IT.

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.�� 

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry) 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

She wasn't fine. Colette was so far from fine that it wasn't even funny anymore.

And now her twin brother had decided to chime in with his own opinions, pouring oil into the fire. 

The thought of the media dissecting every word, every gesture, every expression was unbearable. And still, she couldn't stop herself from doomscrolling.

Colette was in a state of constant anxiety, unable to stop herself from scrolling through social media and the news articles. She knew it wasn't helping her, that it was only adding to her stress, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the screen.

Every article, every comment, every thread seemed to only add to her worry. The criticism, the speculation, the accusations...it was all too much. But she couldn't look away or stop herself from reading every word, no matter how much it hurt.

She was stuck in a vicious, spiralling cycle, seeking out the information, even though she knew it was bad for her. 

The hormones and the pregnancy symptoms didn't make it any better either. 

The hormones made her emotions more intense, her anxiety more pronounced, and the pregnancy symptoms only added to the stress and discomfort. She wanted desperately for it to end, but it seemed like it would never stop.

The worst of it all was the constant swirl of thoughts in her head. The worry and fear, the relentless stream of "what-if" scenarios.

And the most terrifying thought of all: what if her stress was hurting the baby? The idea that her anxiety could harm the little life growing inside her was a constant one, always at the front of her mind.

“Eat, Choupinette,” her mother insisted. Colette stared down at her plate. Porridge and fruit and whatever else was supposed to be good for her these days. 

But her appetite was nonexistent. The weight of everything that was happening, the thoughts and fears that were running through her mind...it made it difficult to even think about food.

"Eat, Choupinette," her mother insisted again, clearly concerned. "You need to eat something, for the baby's sake. You're too pale."

“I am..”

“You aren’t fine,” her mother cut her off with a disbelieving snort. "You're pale, you haven't been eating properly, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"And don't even try to tell me that the pregnancy is doing that," her mother added, her tone firm. "I had three pregnancies, I know how tiring it is. This isn't just normal exhaustion."

Colette knew that her mother was right. The pregnancy, while exhausting, wasn’t the reason. It was the anxiety, the worry, the stress...it was all taking its toll on her.

But she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it. The situation was out of her control, even if it was affecting her directly.

It was her own fault why she was in this situation to begin with. 

“I was so stupid.” Colette's shoulders slumped as she muttered under her breath. Her mother shook her head, disagreeing with the assessment.

 "It wasn't the smartest thing," her mother admitted. "But the media is blowing it out of proportion. They're making an elephant out of a fly."

It was a sentiment that Colette wholeheartedly agreed with. But at the same time, she knew that the media was relentless in their pursuit of a story. 

And Colette’s and Max's relationship would be the juiciest scandal they had gotten their hands on in a long, long time.

“I don’t want this to fall back on Charles,” Colette whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

Her brother had worked so hard to be where he was, at the pinnacle of motorsport…to drive for the team he loved so much. 

She didn’t want to get Charles into any trouble. It wasn’t his fault. It was all on her. And any scandal, any whiff of controversy, could potentially ruin everything Charles had worked so hard for.

Her mother's words were calm, but they hit hard. "Your brother is an adult," she repeated. "He can make his own decisions. And he was the one who decided he wanted to protect you. You didn’t force him to do anything, Choupinette."

Colette knew that her mother was right. Charles was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. But that didn't make her worry any less.

Her phone rang, her hand immediately shooting out for it. It was Max. Her hand was almost shaking as she answered the call.

"Maxie," she breathed, relief and worry mixing in her voice.

Max's voice was gentle, a soothing balm in the storm of chaos that was swirling around her. "Hey liefje," he repeated, the affectionate nickname rolling off his tongue.

Colette closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the sound of his voice.

"What are you up to?" Max inquired, his tone soft. 

"I'm having breakfast with Maman," she replied, glancing at her mother, who was watching her carefully.  

There was a moment of silence on the line, but she could almost picture Max's expression. He was no doubt worrying just as much as she was, if not more. "How are you doing?" he finally asked, his voice laced with concern. 

Colette let out a shaky sigh, her emotions warring inside her.

She wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him that she was fine. But Max and her had made themselves a promise ages ago. If there was one thing that Max hated, then it was lying. Even little white lies like this. They didn’t lie. They didn’t sugarcoat. They told the truth. Regardless of how hurtful it could be. 

They told each other the truth. Always. 

“Tired,” she answered weakly. 

"I heard you've been stalking social media again," Max's voice was dry, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

"Charles should really mind his own business," she bit back, her irritation at her twin brother evident. There was just one person that Max could have learnt that from. 

There was a pause, and she knew that Max was choosing his words carefully.  "He's just worried," he said finally. "We all are."

Colette huffed, her irritation at being coddled smouldering. "I don't need everyone to worry about me," she retorted, her tone snippier than she intended.

"We're not doing it to annoy you," Max replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're doing it because we care about you.  I'm worried about you, liefje."

Those words were like a knife through the heart. She could hear the worry and concern in his voice, and it made her feel guilty for being so snappy with him.

Sassy chose that moment to come to jump up on her lap and she petted the Bengal cat absent-mindedly as she made herself a home on Colette’s lap. 

"I know you are," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I just..." she trailed off, unsure of how to put her mixed feelings into words. Sassy purred softly. 

"It's okay," Max reassured her, his voice low and soothing. "I know it's hard. But please, try to take care of yourself. For me. For Bébé."

Colette felt the tears well up in her eyes again. She wanted to tell him that she was trying, that she was doing her best. But the words lodged in her throat, replaced by a thick lump of emotion.

"I'm trying," she managed to say, hating how weak and shaky her voice sounded.

"I know you are," Max murmured, his voice full of understanding. "But you need to rest, to eat. You're not doing yourself or the baby any favors by skipping meals and staying glued to your phone."

Colette knew he was right. The lack of food and sleep was taking its toll on her health and her baby. But the stress, and the worry, it made it hard to find an appetite or to switch off her brain.

"I know," she whispered, feeling helpless and frustrated. Max sighed softly on the other end of the line. 

"I wish I could be there," he said, the longing in his voice palpable.

"Me too," she whispered, her heart aching with the weight of their separation.

"I hate being apart during all of this," he mumbled, a rare show of vulnerability from him. "I should be there with you, taking care of you, protecting you from all this damn media noise."

Colette's eyes welled with tears again at his words. "You are taking care of me," she reassured him, her voice thick with emotion. "Just hearing your voice helps more than you know."

"It's not enough," he retorted, his voice firm again. "I should be there, not just talking with you over the phone. I should be able to hold you, to make sure you eat and sleep properly."

Colette could picture the fierce expression on his face, the set of his jaw. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze, his desire to protect and care for her. But she could also hear the frustration and helplessness in his voice.

"Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "It's not your fault. You're doing everything you can."

Max let out another sigh, a sound full of frustration and helplessness. "It doesn't feel like it," he mumbled, his voice betraying his emotions. "I feel so useless here, stuck continents away while you're dealing with all of this alone."

Colette's heart ached at his words. She wanted to assure him that he wasn't useless, that his support through the phone and the occasional visit meant the world to her. But she also understood how powerless he felt, how useless he must feel, miles and miles away from her.

"You're not useless," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "You're the only thing keeping me sane right now."

There was a pause on the line, and she could sense Max's turmoil on the other end. "I just wish I could do more," he said quietly. "I wish I could take all this away from you, the stress, the worry, the media. You shouldn't have to deal with all this alone."

Colette felt a fresh burst of tears at his words. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't Superman, that he couldn't fix everything, but she also knew that he would never accept that. Max was a doer, a problem solver. Watching her struggle from afar must be killing him.

"I'm not alone," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I have you. That's more than enough."

"It's not enough," he mumbled again, the stubborn set to his words making her smile despite herself. She could almost see the familiar stubborn pout on his face even from so far away. "I'm serious," he insisted, his voice firmer now. "I should be the one taking care of you and our baby, not just chatting on the phone."Colette let out a quiet sigh, a mix of amusement and frustration at Max's stubbornness. She loved that he cared so much, but at the same time, she didn't want him to feel guilty for something that was out of his control.

"Max," she said gently, trying to make him understand. "You do take care of us, even from miles away. Just knowing that you're there for me, that you love us, it means everything. We're a team, remember? We're in this together."

There was another silence on the line, and she could practically picture Max clenching his jaw. She knew that he wanted to protest, that he wanted to argue, to find a solution to make things right. But he also understood that there was nothing he could do right now but accept the situation.

Finally, he sighed, the sound a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Okay," he said quietly. "But promise me you'll try to eat and sleep properly. Promise me you'll take care of yourself and our baby."

Colette couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks at his concern. She could hear the love and worry in his voice, the desperate plea for her to take care of herself.

"I promise," she whispered, her voice wobbly but firm. "I'll take care of myself. For you, for Bébé. I promise."

She would even let go of the fact that she was pretty sure that her family were babysitting her. When her mother went home after breakfast, it didn't take too long for Arthur to show up, happily ignoring her pointing out that he actually had work to do and instead he joined her on the couch watching re-runs of The Real Housewives.

Colette rolled her eyes at Arthur's unashamed enjoyment of the reality TV show. He had always been a sucker for messy drama, and the housewives provided plenty of that.

"You are ridiculous," she mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur retorted cheerfully, his eyes never leaving the screen. "You love this show and you know it."

"I do not," Colette protested, but it sounded halfhearted, even to her own ears.

Quite frankly, she would rather watch fake drama on TV than think about the one happening in real life to her.

Bébé decided at that moment to kick her in her ribs again and she grimaced.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked her immediately.

Colette let out a wince as the baby kicked her again. "Yeah, just baby kicking my ribs again. It's getting more and more frequent," she mumbled, rubbing the spot on her stomach where the baby had kicked.

Arthur chuckled. "The baby's probably just feeling cramped. They want more space," he teased.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," Colette replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe the baby's just getting impatient and wants to come out already," Arthur said with a shrug, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Don't even joke about that," Colette said, her tone serious. "I still have another month to go. He better stay in there until then.”

She still had around 4 weeks of pregnancy left. 

"Still thinking it's a boy?" Arthur asked her curious.

Colette nodded, her hand still resting on her stomach. "Yeah, I just have a feeling. Call it a mother's intuition," she said with a small smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement. "Or just wishful thinking," he teased her.  "Isn't Max convinced it's a girl?" 

Colette chuckled, thinking about Max's adamant belief that the baby was a girl. "Yeah, he is. He has ordered a bunch of dresses online," she said with a laugh. “And hairbows...so many hairbows…If it's a boy, I don't know what I'll do with all of them."

Arthur started laughing.

Colette shot him a playful glare. "Don't laugh at my predicament," she said, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Arthur couldn't help himself, bursting into another fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just too funny picturing Max buying all those dresses and hairbows," he managed to say between chuckles. 

Her phone pinged again.  Colette huffed in irritation as Arthur picked up her phone before she could. "Hey, that's mine," she protested.

Arthur just shot her a cheeky grin. "Finders keepers," he teased, waving the phone just out of her reach. "Besides, no more doomscrolling for you," her younger brother told her seriously.

Colette rolled her eyes at his reprimand, but deep down, she knew he was right. "I wasn't doomscrolling," she mumbled petulantly, even though she knew it was a blatant lie.

"I just...People are making up opinions about me and my life and they don't know me," she said weakly. "That's why I don't even have a public Instagram in the first place, Arthur. I just want to live my life without worrying about what people are going to think..."

"What does it matter what they think?" Arthur asked her curiously.

Colette let out a frustrated sigh. "It shouldn't matter, I know it shouldn't," she said firmly. "But it does. Maybe it's human nature to care what other people think, I don't know."

She ran a hand through her hair tiredly. "I just don't want people to judge me, to make assumptions about my life and my decisions."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "I get it," he said softly. "It can be hard to block out the noise. But you have to remember that the only opinion that matters is your own."

Colette let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, tell that to the media," she mumbled, but there was no vitriol in her voice, just resignation.

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. "The media don't know what they're talking about. They just want the next big headline, the next scandal. They don't care about the truth."

Colette sighed, slumping back on the couch. "I just wish they'd leave me alone," she mumbled. "I just want to have my baby in peace."

Arthur patted her leg comfortingly. "Just focus on yourself and the baby," he said firmly. "Everything else is just background noise."

Colette nodded, taking a deep breath. He was right, of course. “They have this picture of me in their head, that’s very different from the actual person,” she said weakly. “And now they judge me for something that they don’t even know what it was, because it’s not public. They just take Russell’s word and run with it…”

Arthur's expression darkened as she vented. "I know," he said softly. "It's unfair and it sucks. But you can't let it get to you."

Colette sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I know. I know.”

"You don't owe anyone anything," Arthur said firmly. "You don't have to justify yourself to anyone. Max would say the same."

Colette smiled wryly at the mention of Max. She could almost hear his voice in her head, telling her the same thing.

She closed her eyes, picturing Max's face in her mind. He always knew what to say to keep her grounded, to keep her from spiralling into a dark pit of despair. She missed him, more than she thought was possible.

"I just wish Maxie was here," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion.

[inazuman]

love, pancakes & robots

sae x reader fluff (suggestive) for @pixelcafe-network 's challenge friday!

excerpt: "You," you stab him in the chest with a finger. "Are a robot whisperer."

"I read the instructions on the box like a normal person."

"I did too!"

"Oh really? You can read? That's surprising." He grips your wrist before you can smack him again, eyeing you playfully like he's just daring you to try, pulling you in until his arms are wrapped around you.

“What are you doing?”

Looking for you the moment he's up is rare for Sae. It's the weekend, you love to sleep in, and he's usually heavy enough to keep you tucked into him even if you rise first.

“I was trying to make pancakes." There's a set of ingredients to your left, a plate of half-baked and burnt ones to your right…

"Doesn't look like it's working."

He says the comment off-handedly, but you catch that almost-grin of his before he manages to turn away and you shove him, your hand meeting the hard muscle of his chest. He barely budges, but he presses a hand to himself like you knocked the wind out of him, eyes wide with faux-pain that finally has you out of your pancake-making stoop and laughing.

"It's a fancy pancake maker! The one we got gifted, remember? They're meant to pop out perfectly every time."

"Y'know, there's nothing wrong with making them the old fashioned way." He grabs the box to the side, casually flipping it in his hands.

"This is new tech, Sae! New tech! It's supposed to just spit a pancake out at you like a robot!"

"Like that dumpling maker that doesn't actually roll a dumpling together no matter how you put it in?"

You wave your hand. "That's just proof that dumplings need to be folded with hands and made with love."

"Hmm," Sae puts the box down, pours the pancake mix in along with some chocolate chips.

It pops out perfectly.

"You," you stab him in the chest with a finger. "Are a robot whisperer."

"I read the instructions on the box like a normal person."

"I did too!"

"Oh really? You can read? That's surprising." He grips your wrist before you can smack him again, eyeing you playfully like he's just daring you to try, pulling you in until his arms are wrapped around you.

He dips his head to speak softly in your ear. "Maybe the robot just likes me better."

You pull away from him, tapping your hands on his cheeks. "Then the robot is misogynistic."

"A robot with skewed moral values? Governments might start using it for politics."

He spins you around in his arms so you're both facing the pancake maker, where he pours it in again and watches as it chucks out yet another perfect piece. The pure shock on your face has him chuckling into your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"It's alright. I love you enough for both me and the robot."

He squeezes your waist, and you miss his warmth immediately as he moves towards the doorway.

"Hey! Come back here and do the rest, magic robot man!"

"Mm," he makes an act of considering it, tilting his head. "What do I get in return?"

"Outside of chocolate pancakes?"

"You know I don't care about pancakes." He swoops towards you fast and lifts you up by your thighs, placing you on the countertop, hands on either side of you as he leans in. "So?"

"Well," you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him in even closer, "what do you want?"

He grips the back of your calves, tipping you until you're lying flat on the counter, looming above you.

"I think it's clear," he tells you in a low tone, "what I want."

"Sae," Heat rushes through you, hyperaware of everything -- how warm his hands are, the cool countertop underneath you, the way his stature is the only thing that makes a position like this even possible.

"Pancakes first, you try to tell him, your heart beating fast in your chest, "or we'll never eat today."

"You sure?" He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee, then one higher up, and it has you gripping at his hand.

"We eat at this table."

"Who says that's not what I'm about to do?"

"You're cruel."

this is my first time doing a challenge!! the prompt i was given was: “What are you doing?” “I was trying to make pancakes but it didn’t exactly work” i hope i've done it justice!!

[theminecraftbee]

so i've been seeing this occasionally in the tags lately and i thought i'd bring up:

if you want someone to click or reblog your fic link you cannot simply post a link to the fic with either no description or a single sentence of description. if you do not put something beyond a link and a sentence, no one is going to click it.

part of this is basic internet safety (don't click links if you don't know where they're supposed to go), but a large part of this is that you have to catch someone's attention to make them click and leave the page they're on! people, in general, aren't going to click a link that doesn't interest them. you should interest them! so, how do you do that?

put some kind of image above your link in your post. this is BY FAR the most certain way to get reblogs and catch people's eye, but it's also the most time-consuming if you aren't already good at edits or art yourself. moodboards, little edited headers, or gifs can help you here (depending on fandom). art you've made yourself or have permission to use is absolutely the best option here, but it's by far the most time-intensive and difficult. full disclosure: i don't do this! that's because i am absolutely pants as a visual artist, even in the realm of editing or selecting gifsets. but if you have this skill and are sad your fics aren't getting attention on tumblr, this could be a potential answer!

write a summary and some kind of note with the link. there's a slightly cluttered cheat way to do this later in the list, but personally i find that formatting your fic post yourself is the best way to make these posts look good. i normally go fic link (making sure the link embed has the title) - summary of fic beneath that in a blockquote - an author's note about what to expect beneath that summary. however, everyone has different standards for how to do this! some people i know like to make sure tags and rating are present; some do not. some put some of this information beneath a cut; some do not. the main key here is to make sure there's just enough information above the cut in the main post that if i, a stranger, am browsing the tag and find your fic, i have enough information to know if it's something i might be interested in! i can always click to see the ao3 tags if i am intrigued, so it doesn't need to be all the information. just enough to catch my eye!

just post the whole fic to tumblr, including a link at the top or bottom. this is the most efficient non-art way to get notes on a fic you post, since, unlike a link with a description, a tumblr user doesn't have to leave the website to read and decide if they're interested or like it enough to reblog. however, there are two downsides. the first is that the fic almost always has to be short (~2k words if you use a cut, less if you don't), since most tumblr users aren't using the website expecting to read a bunch. the second is that doing this will mean most of your fic's readers likely will read it from tumblr, rather than following the fic to ao3. which, you may not care! i certainly don't when it comes to the ficlets i write directly to tumblr. however, it means i really don't recommend doing this with a multichapter fic.

use ao3's share button to automatically make a tumblr post. fics on ao3 have a "share" button, located above the tags and summary. this has a tumblr option, which you can then use to automatically post the fic link to tumblr. this is a bit cluttered since it includes all of the tags from the fic, alongside the full summary, rating, wordcount, etc. personally, i would then edit a little to remove some of that information so that it's more eyecatching and less overwhelming, but if you don't want to, that's also fine! that is still almost always going to be better than posting the link by itself with a single sentence to describe it, and isn't half-bad formatting-wise.

finally, you'll note my posts for ongoing chapters aren't normally given this treatment or fandom tags (although i almost always include a summary of some kind on them). this is because i generally don't want people finding my fic for the first time from a random chapter in the middle. i don't mind if they do, but i'm not going to spam the tag and i'm not going to make THAT much of an effort to make the post appealing. new chapters are things that might tell one of my followers that there's an ongoing fic they should look out for, and tell my current readers and followers that there's, well, a new chapter, but generally they aren't going to hook people. however, if you post chapters a lot more infrequently than i do, or if you simply have the energy to, there's nothing stopping you from applying these to chapter posts as well!

the thing is: look, at the end of the day, i agree with people who say you should write for yourself. how many notes you get isn't a big deal, i promise; the most important feeling is, ultimately, the feeling you get when you finish something and know you made it with your own hands. some of my favorite writing achievements are NOT my most popular, but are my favorites for reasons entirely unrelated to popularity. however, i see a lot of writers bemoaning how badly their fic posts do, when their fic posts are the ao3 embed and a single sentence that reads "this is my new fic enjoy"; the thing is, there are things you can do to make that link into something that someone is more likely to read and/or reblog! (i know i personally don't like reblogging links if i don't know their contents for the aforementioned internet safety reasons.)

just because you write for yourself doesn't mean that you can't give yourself a little leg up in finding your audience. it's worth it both for yourself and your readers, i promise.

[dreaming-mystic]

My own additions:

If you are going to use drawing paper for your book, you can use the hard backing of a sketch pad as part of the book cover. It be some nice, sturdy shit that already fits the dimensions of the paper you're using.

If you want to use leather for your cover, make sure it's thin. Like, 1mm thick thin. Or even thinner. Don't listen to the guy at Tandy Leather; he knows leather stuff for carving, not bookbinding. He admitted that. Don't buy the 3mm he suggested. You will end up with $60 worth of headache as you spend hours trying to shave it down to a thickness that's workable for books. DON'T BE LIKE ME!! Don't end up with flesh shavings all over your floor!

Elmer's glue is a suitable book binding glue because it's acid free. Get some of that white shit that has a thicker consistency though. I decided to try using clear Elmer's glue for my current project and I had to wrap a damn string around the spine to keep my book mark in place as it dried. It didn't want to stay stuck with the clear glue! It was too thin and runny! When I used the thicker white glue though? Book marks stayed in place. It was wonderful. 10/10. Would use again. The clear shit could go fuck itself though.

A water and flour paste mixture is also apparently a decent glue. Haven't tried it myself yet, but if you don't have access to normal glue it could probably do the trick.

Oh my fucking god don't glue your text block to the spine! I did that with my first book because that's what my favorite YouTuber did in her videos, but holy crap I had to fight to keep that damn book open. I had to go in with a knife to separate the spine from the cover to fix it. "But then how am I supposed to attach my text block to the cover if I can't glue down the spine?" You know the cloth you glue to the spine to help strengthen it? A thin fabric you can get anywhere like from torn up t-shirts and shit? Use that. Make it extra wide, glue it to the spine, then glue the remaining flaps to the inside of the front and back covers. Although you can also use these strips of sturdy cloth some book binders use (I think it's called binding tape?) if you prefer that option.

Fuck awls. You have to fight to get them to pierce through the paper. Or at least that's how it was when I used mine. Maybe it was dull, maybe it was not, but I still say save yourself the trouble and use a pushpin or nail with a piece of cork or cardboard under the paper. That is SO much better... Plus I have yet to use my awl for anything else with book binding, so it might not be worth the purchase for you.

Waxed thread. Easy to make. Grab a candle. Grab your string. Pull string across candle. Bang. Wax thread. You're welcome. (Make sure you pick something that smells nice though. I have regrets)

I've found a sharpie pen can make for a decent substitute for a bone folder. It's not as good as a bone folder, and the text on the pen can end up smearing on the material, but it gets the job done. Just sand off all that text before using it and you'll be good to go.

You can use two scrap pieces of wood and some clamps to make a book press. I'm going to try making my own with two cutting boards, some big screws, and a couple of wingnuts soon. You don't need anything fancy to press your paper. Like what OP suggested; a heavy stack of books or whatever else you can find will also do the trick.

Book binding 101: Materials

I’ve decided to do a series of posts on how to book-bind since I talk about it a lot, and I think it’s a really fun process. These posts will include various inexpensive alternatives to “professional” supplies, many of which you will have at home. Not everyone can afford a cricut and that’s ok! I will also be listing more expensive materials for people who want to invest a bit more into the craft, but they absolutely are not a must.

This first post will focus on a list of supplies you can use to make books, but will not yet get into the instructional part of it. That will come later!

Anyway…

Bookbinding Materials: Essentials

These are items you need to bind, but many you can find around your house!

Sewing thread: Any thread will work for bookbinding, though waxed threads can help reduce tangles. You can also double up thread as another way to prevent tangling if you so choose. Waxed thread is definitely more expensive, so it can be good to use what you have starting out. Here’s a link to the waxed thread I used for those that are interested. You can buy it in a lot of different colors! (White is good if want an “invisible” thread).

Sewing needle: A lot of people say to use a curved needle for binding, but I’ve never found it to be much different from using a regular needle. If you have one, I would recommend a larger needle, however, since it’s better for piercing through signatures (aka the stacks of pages you bind together). In other words: there’s no special needle you need to bind books.

Ruler: I’d recommend any metal ruler since it’s better to use as a straight edge for cutting. There’s a good chance you already have one. It’s just used for measuring and being a straight edge. Nothing fancy.

Paper: Any paper will work. What you wanna use depends on your project really: if you’re binding together a work of text you’ll want to use some kind of printer paper (of course). If you’re making a sketchbook, you can fold up some sketching paper. I like to get sketchbooks with perforated edges so I can tear them out easily if I want to use a blank page for bookbinding. You can also buy large sheets of paper made for any medium. For example, if you want a sheet of water color paper, just search “large watercolor paper sheet”.

Awl (or all alternative): An awl is a tool used to poke sewing holes. It’s nice because it’s sharp and ergonomic, but you can totally also use a pushpin or even a sewing needle.

Bone folder (or a bone folder alternative): A bone folder creates sharp creases when you fold your pages, making them lay flatter. It also helps define the hinge gap on finished books, making it open easier. You can use a ruler if you don’t have one.

PVA glue: PVA glue is what to look out for when it comes to binding glue. There are some designed specifically for bookbinding, which spread out a bit faster than ones that aren’t. You can also use tacky glue which IS a PVA glue.

Book board: Also sometimes called chip board, Davey board, or mat board. This is what you’ll use for hard cover books. It is important to use book board specially, as cardboard will warp. You can buy book board directly, or you can cut the covers off of old textbooks or binders, unwrap the paper/plastic around the board, and use that!

Box cutter or utility knife: for cutting the board

Decorative paper and book cloth: For wrapping around cover boards and for endpapers. Book cloth can also be used to cover boards. You can also draw your own designs on Bristol paper if you want (or any paper with a similar thickness/durability). When it comes to decorative paper I like to either get scrapbook paper or rolls of fancy handmade paper (you can get those on Etsy, through paper source, or through bookbinding websites).

Bookbinding materials: Optional (and not crazy expensive)

These are supplies that you don’t need for binding but that can make the process easier and/or help with the decorative elements of your books. I’d recommend these things for when you’ve been binding for a while and feel these things could be helpful!

Paper trimmer: can cut a few sheets of paper evenly—I find it really helpful for endpapers

Stencils: Super helpful if you want to add text on the covers

Stamps: Good for adding text and also great for adding illustrations if you’re not able to draw them on your own. You can buy ink pads for them or use markers by coloring over the stamp lightly and using the stamp immediately so it doesn’t dry (I’ve tested this with alcohol markers and it works very well)

Paint markers: great for drawing directly on the cover. Since they’re opaque they can imitate the look of vinyl. You can also get them super painterly if you want. The internet usually talks about poscas but there are tons of different brands. Do some research, figure out what you like & can afford.

Hot foil pen & heat transfer foil: Perfect if you want to add foil to your covers but don’t want to spend a ton of money on a cricut. A lot of binders uses the foil quill brand, but there are ones that cost less and work the same (I have both a cheaper one & an actual foil quill because I wanted some nib variation. As long as the pen has good reviews that aren’t from bots you should be good). Also remember: don’t use foil designed for going through laminators (I.e. decofoil) . It doesn’t work the same way.

Bookbinding Materials—Expensive

These are materials I’d recommend for people who have been bookbinding for a while & feel that it’s something they really want to invest in. To be fully transparent, I’m a college student and don’t own these and have little personal experience with them. However, I know a lot of binders who love them!

Cricut machine—Cricuts are cutting machines that can make precise cuts into paper, wood, bookboard, or vinyl. A lot of binders will cut designs out of vinyl and apply them to the covers using a heat press.

Book press—What it sounds like. The pressure helps the pages lay flat and stay even. That being said you can stack heavy books on top of your projects, it just may not have the same even pressure. I also know some people will DIY these, so if you’re skilled with power tools you can give it a go!

Paper guillotine—like a paper trimmer but bigger and can cut more sheets of paper at once. I believe really good ones can also be used to cut bookboard!

Those are all the materials I can think of! Hope this can work as a good starting point for those interested in the craft. I’ll definitely be posting more info about bookbinding for people who are interested :)

-Zoë💗

[jennelikejennay]

Some people in the fandom are fighting right now over what this single moment from Lower Decks means. (Mild spoilers for the finale if you haven't seen it.)

In short, things are changing into alternate reality versions of themselves (infinite alternate realities in fact) and one of the things that changes is a regular TNG-Voyager Klingon into a Discovery Klingon.

So, does that mean Discovery happens in an alternate universe? Is that why it's so aesthetically different from TOS, which is supposed to happen near to it in time?

And wait, how similar are these universes? If two alternate versions of characters get together, does that mean their prime versions are together too?

In short, what counts as canon???

I've decided how I come down on this and I won't be swayed.

It's all canon, okay?

There is no prime universe. I feel like that's part of the point. Timelines branch all the time because of time travel, and I believe it's also been said that they branch sometimes because of choices or chaos: the universe where I turned right at the stoplight, and the one where I turned left. Whole new universe.

Parts of various universes are "canon," as in we see them on screen. Or we could say instead, the episodes we see do not always take place in the same universe.

TOS takes place in a universe or universes where Spock and T'Pring had an arranged marriage and don't really know each other. SNW takes place in a universe where they have a normal human-style engagement. In TOS's universe, the Eugenics Wars happen in the 1990s, while in SNW's universe (for reasons that are explained to us) they happen in the 2020s or 30s.

And that's fine! We can cleave to "canon" without feeling like everything that has ever been canonical must apply to the same universe. It contradicts sometimes, for one thing (a fact that drives my autistic ass insane). And it's limiting, to say that in 1970 we could write a Spirk fic where Spock is a virgin but in 2024 we can't without being "canon-divergent." Nah. I cleave to canon, but in the universe of season 2 TOS, or whatever. I'm allowed.

Perhaps this doesn't matter at all to you sane people out there, but as a person who simultaneously needs things to make sense and be consistent, and also believes we need to be free to accept whatever canon we like, it is such a relief to find a way to make it make sense.

Thank you, Lower Decks.

[flowersforthemachines]

Ranking everyone's Hero of the Veilguard armours (because I have nothing better to do)

I realised I needed to gather my thought's on everyone's drip so here are my humble opinions (with numbers and pictures)

Disclaimer: I took this very seriously, but you probably shouldn't. This is based on my personal opinion, which, while undoubtedly correct, may now align with your own. And that's okay.

14 - Titan's Vengeance (Harding)

That is definitely an armour. One of the armours ever, perhaps!

While I understand that it's meant to evoke the image of the dwarves as we see them in DAVG, I simply do not vibe with this outfit. Like, at all. It got an honest chuckle out of me when I saw it in the game, but I would never put Harding through the torture of wearing it. Which is too bad because I'd pick her embracing the Titan's anger over its compassion any day. A pity the fashion doesn't keep up.

13 - Rivain's Legacy (Taash)

Putting my opinions on certain aspects of their questline aside ("yes, you can be non-binary, but we draw the line at being multicultural"), this outfit doesn't even seem to be based on Taash's model. Anyone who has seen their romance scene (I have <3) should be able to tell these are not their legs. Their gorgeous calves wouldn't fit into those metal things. Bioware should be ashamed.

12 - The Qun's Honour (Taash)

That outfit doesn't make a lot of sense to me personally. I can live with the fact that most companion outfits are reused assets, but why is the Lords of Fortune armour of all things meant to represent Taash pursuing Qunari culture? Did no one at the office stop to think how weird that was? Like for real.

11 - Grey Benefactor (Davrin)

This outfit belongs in the "He Would Not Fucking Wear That" category. It also commits the cardinal sin of making Davrin look smaller (in my eyes), which not even the essence of Mythal could help to find redemption for. A shame after a shame.

10 - Crow's Tenacity (Lucanis)

This outfit is... a lot. Why is there so much metal, aren't assassins supposed to be silent 'n sneaky n' stuff? What are those patterns? Is that a FUR COLLAR??? I fell in love with a man with a horrible fashion sense

9 - Crow's Poise (Lucanis)

Marginally better than its counterpart, this outfit still leaves me with a lot of questions. I won't ask what is up with the feathers (I get it. they are crows) but I still find feather pauldrons to be a crime of fashion.

If Harding's Titan armour brought me a chuckle, this caused a groan because it took me 70h~ to reach the end of Lucanis's questline on my first playthrough and my reward was THIS?

(why did I have to fall for that guy of all people)

8 - Archivist's Mail (Bellara)

This simply does not scream Bellara to me. Even her glove and the scarf aren't enough to make that armour look like something of her own. It's definitely missing the flair (bits and baubles!!!) from her other armours, which may not be a fashion crime, but is still deeply regrettable.

7 - Wild Benefactor (Davrin)

This is like. It's a bit better than his other one, okay. It even started growing on me over time, in a way I can't comprehend yet also can't deny. Maybe he would fucking wear that, I don't know.

6 - Investigator's Robes (Neve)

I was originally tempted to rank it higher because I liked its description mentioning that Neve wearing robes (which she normally doesn't do) is a statement. It's cool thematically.

But I shall not let Bioware gaslight me into forgetting that it's just a Shadow Dragons robe conveniently recoloured to suit that narrative. Try harder next time.

5 - Graven Vestments

It's nice (especially compared to some other armours), but not Emmrich-y enough in my opinion. It lacks the personality present in his starting outfit. Peepaw deserves something more special for overcoming the greatest fear of his life, wouldn't you think?

4 - Threader's Plates (Neve)

This armour gets bonus points because it actually took me a while to recognise it was a recoloured Defiant Plate. Neve really makes it her own!

Other than that, it looks good, but is it *great*? It is *meaningful*? Not really. It would also look cooler if Neve's hair was down (the same applies to any other hatless outfit).

3 - Lich's Vestige (Emmrich)

That outfit is just so fucking cool. The exposed ribcage? The high collar? Black and gold? Now that is Emmrich Volkarin. And I do have a special appreciation for companion armours being, you know, *unique* models.

However, while undoubtedly stylish, the armour leaves behind a question: was it worth it?...

2 - Inquisition Spotter (Harding)

I may be an Inquisition hater deep down (sorry), but this armour still prompted a lonely tear to run down my cheek when I first saw it. It's such a nice callback to the past in a game that's so different from all previous DAs that it melted my cold, cold heart.

I was especially touched by the embroidery representing the members of the Inquisition. Harding carries her memories of them wherever she goes!!! :)

1 - Reborn Leathers (Bellara)

Is this biased? Yes, of course, this is biased. Bellara is my favourite girl, everyone else stood no chance. Like, she literally has a crown on her head - who else deserved the first place, if not her?

Jokes aside, this outfit is everything I would expect from a reward for completing a companion's storyline - a completely new outfit that retains the spirit of the original design while bringing new elements to it.

Sometimes what you need to make a good experience better is to see your fave in a cool outfit. For this one, Bioware has my sincere thanks.

[ecstaticactus]

Fangs and Flames (Vampire!Aegon Targaryen x Witch!Reader x Vampire!Aemond Targaryen)

Chapter One: The Dinner

Summary: In a world of supernatural creatures, magic is no surprise. In fact, it is what defines you. As a witch, you feel like you have control over your life—until that day arrives. On their 21st birthday, everyone receives a golden envelope. No one knows where it comes from, and no one dares to question it. Inside lies the name of your destined soulmate, the person you’re meant to share the rest of your life with. For most, it’s a moment of wonder. But for you, it’s anything but magical. The moment they entered your life, both Targaryen brothers turned it upside down—though one of them seemed more determined to do so.

Word count: 3k

Chapter warnings: Language, modern AU setting, mentions of sex, Aemond is very much loved, Aegon being a menace

author's note: It's my first time writing a fanfiction and even though I struggled a lot the urge was too strong.. if the story's interesting enough I'd be happy to continue writing it! as you may notice those are not your typical vampires.. they can conceive and well, exist and function like normal human beings! They are immortal, though. feel free to ask questions, I'd love to discuss anything! english is not my first language, so I hope you keep that in mind.. any feedback, writing tip and criticism will be appreciated! hope you enjoy it as much as i've enjoyed writing it (no i was not stressed at all)

You don't know why everyone is making such a big deal out of it. When your mother came into your room and informed you about the dinner with guests coming over, you did not pay much attention to it. You supposed you would wear a pretty dress, put on a smile, make small talk with other ladies, and pretend you were interested in Westerosi politics. It is the routine you had mastered over the years, even if it is something you do not particularly enjoy. You never complain; you know it is your duty and a small price to pay for the privileged life you have. 

You are the daughter of the Prime Minister, the most powerful man in Westeros, and you are perfect. You have to be. It's what everyone has been telling you; it's what your parents have been expecting from you since you could remember yourself.

You enjoy the process of maids preparing you. They brush your hair, put scented oils in it, and curl it loosely, just the way you like it. When Mellory pulls out a dress from your closet, you smile and raise an eyebrow. It is stunning; a long dress adorned with dark green stones and deep V neckline, but surely it is extravagant for a dinner. She dismisses your point and assures you it is perfect for the occasion. You trust her judgment, but a question lingers: what makes this evening so different from the others? You can't think of anyone who is worthy of this special welcome.

The dining hall is lined with extra flowers, and you notice candles placed on the table, their soft glow casting a flickering light over the polished silverware. Despite the beaming smile on her face you know your mother is nervous. She is constantly touching her necklace, a habit you often display when you are overwhelmed. The maids seem to share her anxiety, repeatedly adjusting the silverware and ensuring everything is in perfect order. Still, you refrain from asking any questions—you would find out soon enough.

The first person to catch your eye is Alicent Hightower. Her auburn curls cascading down her back always fascinate you, no matter how many times you’d seen them. She compliments your mother's dress and the jewellery adorning her neck. Only then does her brown eyes find you and she lets out a small gasp, grasping both of your hands to tell you how precious you look. You know her kind words does not necessarily mean she is being sincere, but you blush nonetheless. Your father seems to be ecstatic seeing his old friend, Viserys Targaryen. You can't recall the last time you had seen him. He was not present for his youngest son's graduation and his health prevented him from attending lavish parties wealthy people often hosted. Yet, here he is. You suppose this indeed is a special occasion.

You feel someone staring at you and turn to find Aegon Targaryen eyeing you with his arrogant smile. You know him back from the academy, how could you not? It was impossible to ignore all the trouble he caused in your freshman year. Your friend Maria called him a leech, a creature who thrived on other's humiliation and pain. That is only thing firstborn son of Viserys is good at: not missing a chance to embarrass and vex others. He often teased you for a small crush you had on senior Rafe Cameron. There was even a time when Maria almost got into a physical fight with him. You had to pull her back, reminding her he wasn’t worth it. That is true. Everyone knows Aegon Targaryen is useless. He is little more than a waste of space, a burden on the planet. People who have crossed paths with him agree on it, including his parents. Luckily he is few years older than you and graduated before he had a chance to make your life miserable.

You presume the taller man with long hair braided behind his back is Aemond, the heir to the Targaryen dynasty. He studied in Oldtown and you never had a chance to meet him. He is beautiful, even with the scar on his left eye and stoic expression. While your parents entertain their guests, you sit on the couch with Aemond, sipping cherry liqueur and occasionally nodding at whatever he had to say. He is educated and well-mannered, but you can't help feeling bored. He is trying far too hard to appear polite and every time you attempt to steer the conversation toward something more fun, he shuts you down. It's as if he doesn't want you to get to know the real him.

"Oh, stop it brother, she does not give a shit about your philosophy professor" you had nearly forgotten about Aegon until he appeared with a drink in hand and plopped down on the couch beside you. You recall there is another thing he's good at: drinking and whoring around.

"Hold your tongue, Aegon"

"It's fine, really" you smile at younger brother, amused at the direction the conversation had taken "It's not like I think of him as someone whose reputation could be tarnished any more"

"Is that so? Do you think of me often?"

"Only on the rare times I'm feeling blue. I recall there are people more useless than I can ever try to be" you reply calmly, not even looking at him. You are good at pretending, even with the most insufferable people like the Lannisters, but you don't need to when it comes to Aegon Targaryen. Or perhaps you simply can't.

"Aren't you still feisty" he is not affected by your insult at all. It's a game he likes to play. "After all I don't think I'm that useless if the thought of me lifts your spirits. Maybe the thought of me also helps you.. mhm otherwise"

"Aegon" Aemond says his name like a warning or a plea. You can't exactly tell it from the expression he's wearing

"No, let him talk" you squeeze his knee in an attempt to let him know you're alright, that you can handle the white-haired man you're now facing. You don't know when he managed to get his glass refilled, but he's sipping on it with an unbothered face. His blue eyes are fixed on you, challenging you to bite back. "Every time he opens his mouth, I am reminded of how low the bar for wit has fallen"

Aegon chuckles, and just as he’s about to say something, you hear your mother calling your name, signaling that everyone should hurry to take their seats around the dining table. Aegon purposefully sits in front you but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of winning. You do your best to avoid looking at him and maintain a nonchalant look. Instead, you take small bites of your meal, listening to your mother and Alicent discussing the latest charity event. Suddenly, Viserys struggles to rise, barely managing to stand. Everyone falls silent, their eyes fixed on him, waiting to hear his announcement. Everyone except Aegon, whose gaze remains locked on you like you’re the dessert he’s about to devour. His stare, his unfaltering grin is unnerving you. Somehow you take it as a warning that something is about to happen. Something definitely unpleasant to you. You don't listen to Viserys until he mentions your name.

"How fortunate it is to know that gods decided to unite our families" his voice is cheerful, though his hands tremble slightly as he holds a glass of champagne "Your daughter's name has been written alongside my son's where no living man can interfere"

Suddenly all eyes are on you and you feel small. You glance at your mother with helpless look and she offers you a faint smile. Anger rises within you. The Targaryens are robbing you of the magical moment you’d been dreaming of since childhood. Your birthday is only a few months away, you were supposed to find it out yourself.

"Please, forgive me, my sweet girl" he is looking at you and you can sense the sadness in his voice "I know you wanted to see it yourself, everyone does, but.. I'm afraid my health does not allow me to wait any longer"

There is an awkward silence and from the corner of your eye you can see Alicent drop her head low. There was no love between them—not like how a husband and wife should love each other—but there was mutual respect and care. Viserys was a widower and while he experienced happy marriage with his first wife Aemma, Alicent had never been given the chance to marry. She was still a teenager when her betrothed, Criston Cole was murdered by a vampire. You suspected that's why Alicent never seemed to be proud of her powers while other vampires flaunted theirs with arrogance—her sons included.

"I want to see my son with his betrothed while I still have some time. I want to see him fall in love" he says, and then he attempts to laugh "Surely that can excuse my audacity"

"Nonsense, Viserys. I am happy our families will be united" your father stands up and places a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder "I cannot ask for better husband for my daughter"

Surely he cannot be talking about Aegon, but why is he looking at you from across the table like he owns you? You know he can hear your pulse quicken and he smirks at the effect he has on you. You desperately look at Aemond who does not say anything. You cannot tell what he's thinking.

Maybe it's Daeron. He is handsome, sweet and charming. You always got along well and you would not mind falling in love with him. But why isn't he here?

"May we know who the lucky sibling is?" your mother nervously chuckles and you notice that she's fiddling with her necklace. Your fingers instinctively move to your chest to find it empty.

"Aemond"

There. The answer you have been waiting for almost 21 years, but it does not excite you. It does not send shivers down your spine because it was not supposed to happen like this. It was supposed to be magical, like you've read in the books, like you've imagined it.

"May I see the letter?" you ask impatiently, and Aemond stares at you blankly for a few seconds before pulling out the golden envelope from his pocket. You snatch it away from his grasp, and the chair screeches against the floor as you rise to your feet.

"Excuse me" with a forced smile you leave the hall and step onto the terrace. You hold the letter, examining it closely. Across his name is yours, engraved in black ink. You touch it, as if trying to make sure it’s real. It is very much real, and in a few months, you will be married to Aemond Targaryen.

You begin to think about him but how can you judge a person you've known for only an hour? Everyone speaks of him highly, which is why Viserys named him heir, but what is he truly like behind the stoic expression? He’s a puzzle you’re desperately trying to solve, but you only have a few pieces.

"It's cold outside" you hear his voice and turn around to give him the letter. He tucks it into the pocket of his jacket as if it’s nothing—just a piece of paper.

"I've wanted to see it myself. Sorry if I came across as rude, I never thought you were lying"

"You don't have to explain yourself, I understand" you both lean against the railing, looking at the sky without speaking a word. This man next to you is supposed to be your other half, but to you, he's just a stranger.

"How long have you known?"

"More than a year"

"A year?" you don't know why you sound so shocked. Most people have to wait longer. You think of Aegon who is 24 years old, still not married. You wonder who the girl destined to exchange vows with him is "I don't think I could keep that kind of secret"

"I did not exactly have a choice, did I?" You can hear amusement in his voice and you can't help but smile.

Talking to him is awkward, you realize. There are so many questions you want to ask him, but the moment does not quite feel right. This whole situation does not feel right or real for now. You can't help but feel disappointed. You're not sure whether it's because of the circumstances or because the person who's supposed to be yours is Aemond. All you want is to take a long shower, crawl under the bed and pretend this day didn't exist.

The silence is comfortable, and as much as you don’t want to go back inside, it’s truly cold outside. Being the gentleman Aemond is, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders and leads you back inside.

Your parents seem to get along together just fine. Even Alicent is laughing at something your mother said. Viserys calls Aemond over, and when you notice your favorite bottle of cherry liqueur is empty, you make your way to the kitchen. Of course, the maids can bring it to you, but you use it as an excuse to be alone.

You're walking down the stairs with slow steps when you hear the giggling. The young blonde maid, Annabelle, if you recall correctly, is standing dangerously close to Aegon. He is caging her against the wall, whispering softly and despite the fact that she seems to be enjoying his company and it's not really your business, you can’t bring yourself to simply walk past them.

"Is everything alright?" You don't intend to, but you sound a little annoyed. Her smile fades into a frown and she opens her mouth to say something, but only mumbles few words before rushing back into the kitchen.

"Trying to play the hero? She was clearly enjoying herself" though his voice is as serious as ever, you know he’s not angry

"Well, I certainly would not enjoy you two having sex in my house"

"And I certainly do not enjoy you taking all the fun away from me" he is walking towards you, the smell of alcohol lingering on his breath "Keep in mind that just because you're miserable, it doesn't mean I have to be too"

"And who exactly says I'm miserable?"

"Have you looked in the mirror?" his smile is wide, mocking and you feel a strong urge to punch him in the face.

“Ever considered it’s because I’m forced to breathe in the same room with a pathetic creature like yourself?”

"Right, I'm pathetic" he steps even closer, far too close for your comfort, but you do not move "Yet you're standing here, wasting your precious time with me"

"I like to do charity work" satisfied with your response, you swiftly walk past him.

"Then you'll surely enjoy my brother"

His words stop you and you turn around to face him. No matter how little you know about him, Aemond is still your betrothed, and you will not allow anyone to disrespect his name, especially someone like Aegon.

"You truly are pathetic"

"Eh, is that all you can say?"

"About you? Oh, there's so much I can say. Nothing remarkable though" your tone is laced with venom. You’re done with this evening, and with him. "You think insulting your brother will change the fact that you're a complete failure? You think whatever flaws he has make you look better? Grow the fuck up, Aegon. No one thinks of you as anything more than a disgrace to the Targaryen name. You’re nothing. Just flesh and bones. A body, ready to be used and discarded the next day.”

He does not say anything, he does not have to. His pale blue eyes are almost dark and you know you've hit the right spot. Yet, to your surprise, it doesn’t give you the satisfaction you expected. You turn on your heel and move past him, but he pulls your arm back, almost whispering.

"You forget what I'm capable of"

"And what is is that you're capable of? Disappointing me?" he can’t do anything to you, not if he wants to continue roaming the earth, burdened by his own existence. "Have some dignity and let go of me"

"Think you know everything, huh?"

His gaze lingers on your neck, eyes drifting toward your carotid arteries, and you know he wants to taste you—devour you—until you stop screaming, fighting, breathing.

"Have fun putting the pieces of him back together"

You stand like that for a while before he removes his grip from you and resumes drinking whatever he had been holding.

You contemplate it for a while, but on your way to the kitchen you mutter a few words to yourself. Then you hear glass shattering and Aegon cursing your name. A faint smile curls your lips, and the maids glance at you suspiciously.

"I need more cherry liqueur"

They're happy to oblige your request. When you finally go back to the dining hall you don't look at Aegon and his stained shirt. Instead, your attention, like everyone else’s, turns to Viserys, who is frantically coughing. Alicent and Aemond try to help him up. Soon after, they leave, but not before your betrothed kisses the back of your hand and Aegon throws you a disgusted look.

You are laying in the bed, staring at the ceiling. Whatever effect alcohol had on you seemed to wash away under cold shower. You think of Targaryens but it's not Aemond that occupies your thoughts. You think of his brother and what you said to him. A wave of guilt consumes you. Perhaps you were too cruel? Your words were truthful, but they were harsh—even for someone like Aegon. You can’t shake his disgusted expression from your mind, and as sleep finds you, you dream of him.

He is clutching your waist, his hand pressed between your neck and shoulder, while you desperately claw at him, trying to push him away. His grip tightens, and every attempt to escape only seems to encourage him further. Tears stream down your face, and your breath quickens. The last thing you see is his bloodstained mouth. Then everything fades to black.

[human-monokuma]

"Hear it form him you shall." *With a playful tap on the nose, Mikado started seeing and hearing things from Celestia's perspective. it was her memory of her conversation with Monokuma.*

Monokuma: "So what did you want to talk about?"

Celestia: "Your rewards for your selflessness and bravery in the face of despair and disaster. Such as this." *She covers Monokuma Ina bright light, changing his form into living human form.* "With this, you shall be able to traverse the living realm as anyone else that is alive."

"Traverse? Ma'am, in case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead and I'm sort of tied to Hell. Because sinner, you know?"

Celestia: "Fufufufu~. Atomata of Despair, I bestow upon you a special gift." *A small light hovers over to Monokuma's hand, attaching itself to the back of his hand.*

Celestia: "This is a Warp Crystal, which will allow you to teleport between realms and teleport to any location you desire. From Earth, to Heaven, to any ring in Hell without any kind of restriction. With this, you will be able to return home and live out the rest of your days with your family until it is their time as well."

"........Why would you do this for me?"

Celestia: "You've fought hard for your happiness and for the happiness and well-being of others. I say it's only fair to reward you properly with something that will please you and your loved ones. Is that not it?"

"it's not that. It's just...I don't know. Doesn't feel right. Like, I've done so many bad things to other people. No way I can just return to a normal life after everything."

Celestia: "You know Makoto will tell them everything."

"That's not going to change anything. The people up there won't ever forgive me. Not after after Future foundation and hope's peak. Worse case scenario, they'll accuse Makoto as a fraud and start treating him like an enemy too. or worse. Don't get me wrong. I do want to be with everyone again. With my friends. my family. Mikado and Lucky, my brothers. But...what if I land them in trouble again? I....I don't know."

Celestia: "Your loved ones are willing to carry you along with your sins. Surely you're not going to disregard their feelings, are you?"

"You're not helping, you know. Like, what am I supposed to do? I'm already dead and me going back to Earth isn't going to make life easier for anyone. As long as they know that I'm still alive, then they're just going to keep bothering me and my friends just to get to me." *...........DING*

"wait a minute. 'As long as they know'? Or rather....It's 'if they know'. If they know that I'm back on Earth alive......But if they think I'm permanently dead....Yeah. Yeah, that can work. Maybe I can make this work. As long as the world thinks I'm dead, then they won't come after my family nor my friends. That way, even if I do return to earth, it should be fine if I'm hidden well enough. Yeah."

"Yeah! Hahahaha! Maybe I'll be able to return home after all! Hey, mind if I stay here a bit longer to work out the finer details?"

Celestia: "Of course. be my guess." *Monokuma its there and starts thinking things over. After a while, he nods to himself.*

"Ok. I think I got a decent idea of what to do now. First, I need to make sure that Makoto informs the world of my death and my involvement with the demon tree. I'm sure Monodam, a witness, will be able to make the story more convincing. or maybe I should ask one of the reapers. or that weird Sparkle chick. And now for Mikado....Hmm...."

Celestia: "While you're thinking about this I should inform you that you are not allow to tell anyone I granted you these rewards. They could try to take advantage of you in some ways."

"Well I am in Hell and this place is fully of scumbags, for the most part. Sooooooooo.....Yeah. Can't really tell anyone out in the open. Though, I don't want to leave Mikado in the dark. But I also can't tell him about my plan out of fear of being leaked. if that happens, I don't think I can return to Earth period and then there's what could happen to my family and friends....Yeah. I'm going to have to talk to Mikado about me staying in Hell for the long term. I just hope I can get through to him and make him understand. I would ask him to stay, but I don't want him to waste his life like that. Maybe I can ask Makoto to hire Mikado to give him proper protection from those Kisaragi jerks. Knowing him, he probably could allow Mikado a way in. The last thing I want to happen is for anyone I care about fighting or killing on my behalf. I want them to live their lives happy and free of worry and stress if possible. No more need to spilling the blood of innocence and junk like that....Sigh. This is going to be tough." *The memory comes to an end as Celestia takes her finger off Mikado's forehead.*

"I hope that cleared things up for you, Mikado. I understand your worries and concerns for your friend, which are indeed valid and he understands it too. He just needs to make sure that things will be alright enough for him to return so that no more tragedy comes your way."

*Achlys knocks on Husk's tent, trying to get his attention.*

"Hey. Husk, was it? I need you help with something. Something that's really important." @nastrond-and-valhalla

Husk looked to see Achlys. "Oh, hey Achlys. Sup? How can i help?"

[rosyhoneydew]

12 + bucktommy

ooh two for in grief so I'll make this one a little longer :) thank you sei and anon!! <3 also I PINKY PROMISE this has a happy ending, okay? Trust! also very minor emetophobia warning!

12. ...in grief.

It's bad. Buck knows it's bad because Eddie's arms are around him and they're holding him back. His feet keep slipping on the dirt and his hands scramble against Eddie's forearms as he tries to break free.

"You don't wanna see that, man, trust me," Eddie's saying, his voice breaking.

"Fuck you. You got to say goodbye to Shannon," Buck bites back. It's mean, too mean for Eddie, who's just trying to spare him the sight of- of... of what's just beyond the yellow tape.

Eddie doesn't flinch. Just looks at him, thoughtful, drops his eyes to his feet, and lets Buck go. Buck stumbles a bit as he gets his bearings and sprints over to the scene, dodging the others who try weakly to stop him.

Tommy is lying on the ground, awake, barely, and coughing from the dust swirling around him still. A large slab of basalt is covering his body from the top of his thigh to most of his chest and up to his neck.

He can hear paramedics from the 226 talking around him, the words compartment syndrome and infection swirling around somewhere in his brain while he takes it all in. Tommy was just supposed to be out hiking with- with-

"Buck," someone grabs him by the arm, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'm so-"

Buck turns to Sal, his face is a grey pallor and his eyelashes are clumped together with tears and dust. In a few days, Buck will go over to Sal and Isabelle's. He'll thank him for calling 911 so quickly, for doing his best to keep Tommy talking and breathing while they waited, but right now he turns away again and makes his way to Tommy, lying down next to him.

"Hey, sweetheart-" Tommy wheezes out, sending him into a coughing fit again and jolting his body where it's crushed under the rock.

"Don't- don't talk," Buck says, breath hitching. "You're gonna be fine, Tommy, okay? You're- you're gonna be okay but you can't talk. I- if you talk then you'll just make it worse, and..." and it's already really bad.

Tommy smiles at him, tears sliding slowly from the corner of his eye. I'm sorry he mouths.

Fuck. Buck breaks down into heaving sobs. He's not- he can't-

No. He'll fix this. It's okay. His hands brush dust away from Tommy's face. He wipes his sleeve over Tommy's eyes, to clear away the tears, and he check's Tommy's pulse in 3 different spots. It's weak in his leg, but it's there.

"Buck..." someone is saying behind him.

"Evan."

Buck lifts his head from Tommy's ankle, lying down close to Tommy's face again.

"I'm right here, I'm right here," Buck says, grabbing Tommy's hand and taking care not to jostle him too much.

I love you Tommy mouths so much.

More tears flow from Buck's eyes. He's a mess of snot and dirt and he can't stop taking these gross gasping breaths instead of just breathing normally; and he thinks he might be on the verge of having a heart attack because his chest has never hurt like this, never felt like this.

"I love you," Buck says for the both of them. He leans in and kisses Tommy on his mouth, crying harder at the way Tommy can't find the energy to kiss back.

"Buckley, we gotta move him," someone says.

"No!" Buck cries, kissing him again and lying over the top of Tommy's chest. Tommy's not looking at him anymore. His eyes are closed and Buck has to fix this.

"Come on, Buck," Hen's voice breaks through the noise of his own sobs, her hands peel him away from Tommy, firm, but with enough give that he knows she's handling him delicately.

"We'll follow you," Eddie says to one of the paramedics not lifting the rock from Tommy's chest.

And then they're ushering Buck into the truck they showed up in, back when they thought this was just another call, a bad one, sure, but not this. He's shivering, shock invading his body like he was the one crushed, suffocating under rock.

"Hen," he mumbles when they're on their way, staying close behind the sirens of the ambulance ahead of them. He's not sure what he means to say.

"I know," she says anyway.

It's hours before anything changes. Tommy goes right into surgery and Sal and Isabelle show up to wait with him, holding his hands each time the doctor comes out to update them. He throws up twice and cries again right into Isabelle's cashmere sweater.

It's around 4 AM that he falls asleep, waiting in the ICU for any updates. It's 6 AM that he's shaken awake by Lucy Donato, smiling like a maniac in his face.

"Wake up, Buckley!" she says. "He's asking for you."

Chills break out over Buck's body and he sprints down the hall nearly running right into a nurse who's headed into Tommy's room with a pack of clear liquid.

She smiles at him, holding the door to the room open for him and then, god, then Buck sees him.

He looks terrible. He's got the darkest circles Buck has ever seen under his eyes, his hair is a mess. He's still covered in scratches and a bit of dirt. He's perfect. He's perfect.

Buck takes a gasping breath and feels relief flood his body.

"Tommy," he sighs, full of love.

[fuck-customers]

🚐🚐🚐🚐🚐🚐

24/10

I worked a seasonal position as a receptionist, and my boss offered me a temporary position helping out in another department for a month once my contract was up. I accepted on the basis that it was 30 hours a week max and all I'd be doing was admin tasks, no speaking with clients. Which after a season full of holidaymakers I was desperate for.

The week I'm supposed to start I receive no communication from who I was told was my new boss until the day before I'm supposed to go in for a little bit of training, and she's put out when I reiterate that that week there's two days I can't do due to previous commitments I made while I thought I'd be unemployed. And when I get to work on the training day, the person who actually will be my boss doesn't ever work that day, so my poor previous boss had to scramble to find something for me to do, since no one could train me nor could I get on the company system properly as my new boss hadn't sorted my contract.

I'm annoyed but hey, things happen. It's the first week, so there's bound to be hiccups, right?

I get to work the next week and my new boss starts to train me with the system I'll be using, only to be pulled away because we have an auditor in and of course that's more important. I don't mind that at all, but don't have me come in to work if you know you don't have time to train me. The same thing happens the following day and there's another new hire from a different department in the same position as me, so we end up doing hardly anything all day and feeling like spare parts. By this point I'm fairly pissed off that the three shifts I've done have been pointless, but I'll persist.

I do two more shifts this week, both of which are actually me being trained and working, and it's becoming very apparent that I will actually have to speak with clients for this role; it's not just helping the department catch up with paperwork. I'm very much feeling lied to, messed about, and like I'm not the right fit for the job, so I take the weekend to think about it, and message my new boss on Sunday morning to tell her that I'm grateful for the chance but I won't be coming back in. I was very polite in my message, I didn't mention my frustration with the disorganisation in the department, the fact that everyone looks down on you for actually taking your lunch break rather than just working at your desk while you eat, or that, morally, I cannot be involved in helping sell holiday homes to people on a site that's severely rat infested and crumbling, but the general manager refuses to spend any money to revamp the place.

I was very final with my message, which I think was obvious by the fact that I wished my new boss the best of luck and a good holiday season, so I figured that would be that. I'll admit my anxiety has me refusing to check whatsapp so I can't see what she's said, because a) I'm not ready for that and b) to me, it's done and dusted.

She's tried to call me five times in the last 20 minutes. I don't know what the hell she wants, but I'm not answering. My best guess would be she wants me to work my notice, but there's absolutely no point. I'm still not trained properly to do this new job, so at least some of my one weeks notice would be me being trained for a job I'm leaving. Normally I'd never quit without giving and working my notice, but in this instance it's pointless.

I'm not going to answer her calls or call her back. I don't care. Honestly, working on reception was bad enough; it's very clear that the company as a whole values profit over guests' happiness and safety. It's one thing to sell someone a holiday on our shit hole of a site, but it's another thing entirely to be a part of them becoming an owner of a run-down holiday home. At least with guests, I can give them vouchers or money off a future holiday or at a push a refund. With this new job, I can't do anything but apologise for the shitty situation I've helped put the new owners in. I wish I was brave enough to say that to my now ex-boss.

Posted by admin Rodney

[toomuchbirth]

Birth Quickie 2:

Conversation

I hadn't thought it would feel like this.

Sure I’d seen shows. Even videos. I assumed they were playing it up, being dramatic. It was taking all my focus not to scream with the contractions, or break down sobbing as I felt this parasite moving down inside me. I hadn't meant for it to.happen here, like this. I was supposed to be hiding in the shed, or at least the basement.

Then mom and dad had friends from the office over and asked me to stay upstairs. I didn't argue, assumed it would be ok. Then contractions started getting worse, my waters broke and soaked my sweats and panties. I knew from looking into it that didn't really mean anything. Sure, it was alarming, but come on. I could have hours still, even the better part of a day.

Of course, I couldn't be that lucky. I sat on the edge of my bed, facing away from the door, breathing through cramp after cramp. I was timing them, but I got really scared once I got around six minutes apart. Then I got a feeling like I kinda needed to use the bathroom, but I didn't want to risk getting stuck in there if the little accident was closer than I thought.

Turns out it was. That subtle bathroom-y feeling was a pushy feeling trying to creep in. I tried to fight it as long as I could, burning up in my layered T-shirt and long sleeve I’d been wearing to try to hide my growing belly from my parents. The urge got worse, stronger, more urgent as time went on. Contractions getting closer and closer, it started to hurt to not push. I barely managed to stay quiet, keeping my breath as steady as possible, eyes closed tight as I began to give in against my will, my body pushing on its own even as I fought it.

I tried to make a new plan on the fly. It was clearly coming. I’d have it and try to climb out the window, leave it at a shelter like I originally planned. I just needed to stay calm, let it come as quietly as I could. Mom and Dad could NOT know I had gotten pregnant, ever. Let alone how it had happened. I couldn't imagine how they would react but I know it would be horrible.

Speaking of horrible, the pain and pressure was getting worse. I had started pushing without meaning to, and at this point gave up fighting my body. This was happening, here and now. Gripping my blanket and lifting my knees slightly, I let out the tiniest grunt, face scrunching with effort and toes curling. I could immediately feel an entire new sensation. Not just the intense pressure of a head just inside my vagina, but BURNING. My lips were spreading, I was starting to crown into my soaked panties.

This was really happening. I was having a baby for him and he didn't even know, didn't care… it hurt so bad, I couldn't stand thinking about him, having a normal dinner happy and just thinking about the rest later this week, his latest practice, he probably barely remembered what he'd done-

The door opened to my bedroom, and I jumped with shock. “Hey… I just wanted to check in on you. Are you ok, sweetie?” I took a breath,.steadied myself, very vividly aware of the straining teardrop of my most intimate place hidden inside my clothes. “Y-yea! I’m doing fine! Just… you know. Thinking about stuff.” I tried to smile, looking back over my shoulder.

God, I was so hot. I could feel the sweat running down my face, soaking into my shirt. My hair was a mess, sticking to me and itself. I looked like a disaster. I looked like some dumb girl giving birth to a baby she didn't want in her bedroom, hoping her parents wouldn't catch her. I was so stupid, how did I think I could get away with this?!

“You’re probably annoyed with us, huh? I keep telling your father that we shouldn't make you go to your room when our friends are over, but he just says you probably don't want to be around anyway…”

“It’s f-fine!” I managed, and I prayed she didn’t hear the raised pitch of my voice, the way my smile looked like grit teeth, my hands twisting in the sheets as my body started to push on its own again, another contraction squeezing me tight. “Really! I just have stuff going on, and… I g-get it. You guys are people too… and I… I really do get it!” Fuck… I could feel the head… it wasn't a teardrop anymore… it was a full crown… no… worse, it… it-!

I convulsed as a sudden burst of movement overwhelmed me. The entire head slipped free of me, making a huge bulge in my underwear and sweatpants. Oh god, if Mom looked around me just a tiny bit, she’d see the soaked fabric, the shape of a baby coming out of her daughter in shameful secret. I heard the patter of fluid hitting the carpet impossibly loudly. There’s no way Mom wouldn't catch me. My life was over. She would make me keep it and I would be the first girl with a kid in my class and for Him no less…

“I appreciate it, hon.” Mom said, a sigh in her voice. “I just don't want to miss you while we have you in our lives. You’ve grown up so fast. Some girls your age have kids already, can you believe it? But I know you’re smarter than to ever let anything like that happen to you.”

I wanted to scream, everything felt so wrong. “Yea! You taught me to be careful!” I managed to sneak out, back arching slightly, I HOPED subtly, as I pushed in front of her. It was coming out. Oh god the shoulders were so big… this was torture, they were bulging me so hard, my body was straining… I was giving birth!!!

“Well… your dad is probably worried about me. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I worry about you, you know? I want you to know we care about you, we’re here for you. I love you.”

I couldn't stop pushing. I fought to keep the growl of effort out of my voice. “I love you too, mom.” I sounded hoarse, strained, but seemingly not too much. She closed the door and I heard her walk away.

Seconds after the couldn’t see me anymore, the inevitable happened. The shoulders slipped free, and the body slithered out of my most intimate place, filling my clothes as I sagged in exhaustion. “Oh god… oh god… I just gave birth…” I whisper-panted to myself, praying I could get away with this. I just wanted my normal life back.

[elljayvee]

I loved this show when it was in first run, for reasons I (a baby bisexual) did not understand at the time. I adored Michael & Joey's relationship. Looking back on it as an adult, part of what I liked was that it (almost certainly unintentionally) casually depicted bisexuality and aromanticism, and also part of what I liked was that it also (...probably more intentionally) depicted a world with much lower homophobia and missing the AIDS crisis.

You're supposed to read Michael & Joey's relationship with each other as a couple in some ways, but not in others. They're practically married (the show makes this point several times, most clearly in "Joey's Mother-in-Law"), but they're (probably) not having sex: they're having sex with women, but they're Super Weird about it -- this is partly Sitcom, partly Dated Sexist Nonsense, but also partly Inherent To This Particular Family Setup. It ends up feeling to me very much like two men who aren't...really...sure how to deal with feelings for each other that are sexual/possibly romantic when they clearly feel attraction to women. Do you know how many bisexuals go through this. For years. For decades. Sometimes I, a bisexual who has been out since the 1990s, ask myself if I am "really" bi. It's a fucking brainworm that so many of us have. This show, in its own way, laid that problem out before me as if someone out there understood it.

As for the aromanticism, Joey says in the pilot that Marcy is the last woman he loved. He has a whole relationship with a different woman not because he loves her but because he wants to dad her kid. This man is sexually, but largely not romantically, attracted to women. (Is he in love with Michael romantically? I don't know! Maybe! He's definitely in Kinda Obsessed with Michael, though.)

And then....it's in a kinder, gentler, less homophobic world where no one is dying. And that's....almost certainly just a product of it being a sitcom from the 1980s. You weren't going to address those topics in a sitcom about "what if the Odd Couple had to raise a kid lol", but as a result, for me, I get a combo of Powerful Nostalgia Bomb and Everything is Beautiful And Nothing Hurts from this show. It's not that other characters don't react to two men raising a kid together, because they do -- but mostly they are a little puzzled about it. No one is hateful. No one attacks them over it. The only times that judgement of the relationship is more than a passing event ("Joey's Mother-in-Law" is yet again an example), the person being weird about it is dealt with firmly and clearly.

It has its flaws (....1980s sitcom....) but oh. it has its joys.

(I refuse to acknowledge the final episode, though: it's up there with HIMYM for betraying the show before it. I'm convinced that was the network just being like "well. we can't have the show's finale be. they continue to live together." in my heart they continue to live together. they don't talk about it ever until Nicole leaves for college and then they both panic and agree obviously. they can't split up. where will Nicole go for winter break if Michael moves out? Joey panics and has sex with way too many people about it while drawing 3 million pictures of Michael in his sketchbook. Michael dates like normal but feels weirdly sad every time he kisses his dates. It's fine. It's all fine. Nicole comes home for Thanksgiving and is like. Dads. What is up?? Joey's art is depressing and Michael is working 80 hour weeks? Maybe you two should get a dog. Three weeks later Joey comes home with a three-legged golden retriever and Michael has a sobbing breakdown into its fur and falls asleep in Joey's bed. No they do not get it together after this, they are both disaster bisexuals, this goes on for SEVERAL more years.)

“My Two Dads” was Simply Ahead of its Time: A Short Essay by an Offspring of Same-Sex Parents

In 1987, the show “My Two Dads” premiered on NBC, staring Paul Reiser, Greg Evigan, Staci Keanan, and Florence Stanley. Nicole Bradford (Keanan) is a 12-year-old girl whose mother Marcy Bradford dies suddenly, and she is “willed” more or less to two men her mother was once in love with, Michael Taylor (Reiser) and Joey Harris (Evigan), who were lifelong friends before they fought over Nicole’s mother. Despite attempts at blood tests, the paternity of the child was never confirmed, and after a rocky start, Michael and Joey agree to live together and raise Nicole as a family.

What we have here is a simple, relatively family friendly, prime-time sitcom that shows a very positive interpretation of a kid with same-sex parents. And it is delightful.

I am speaking openly as a queer person raised by two mothers (now four w/step-moms). When I decided to try this, I was bracing myself for the absolute worst most offensive thing I’d ever seen.

And I swear to God, what I got instead is one of my new favorite shows of all time. The characters are lovable and well-rounded, the acting is great, the humor is actually funny, and, whether this was intentional or not, is one of the most progressive shows of its time.

I keep seeing people throwing around the word “homophobic” with this show, and I’m here to politely and firmly disagree with that. Instead, I will opt for the word “dated.” “My Two Dads” was still a product of its time, so I firmly believe many of the choices regarding Joey and Michael’s dating life were made to appease the censors. I never felt like any decision was made in malice to target the queer community. (Not to mention, I could/will make a whole LIST of reasons why Michael and Joey are 100% in love, if not an active couple, despite many attempts to convince the audience they are straight.)

I spent a good chunk of the show laughing to myself and saying “it’s like homosexuality doesn’t even exist in this universe” for how much NOBODY cares about Nicole having two dads or questioning why the dads live together. (Them being potentially gay is only questioned ONCE in the series.)

In the 90s and early 2000s, people never shut up with the questions once I told them I had two moms. I somewhat think this exclusion was also a writing tactic, not wanting Nicole to have to constantly repeat what the audience already knows.

There are jokes that haven’t aged amazingly well, but I feel like it was much more that the writers were ignorant as opposed to being active bigots.

I also really appreciated this show’s depiction of a kid who has a great and loving relationship with a parent she may not be or isn’t biologically related to. Nicole doesn’t care who her biological father is, and loves Joey and Michael equally. Again, as someone with two moms, I get really defensive over the notion that someone isn’t your real parent unless their DNA matches yours. (Side note, always say “biologically related to” as opposed to “REAL parent” whenever asking someone about their parentage. Please. It hurts every time.)

If I admittedly had one qualm about the show, I’d say it hasn’t aged amazing in terms of sexism. Throughout the whole show, it always felt like the women Michael and Joey dated were either complete jerks or bimbos. With the women they finally end up with being boring and rushed. And they also at one point have a female boss, and…it’s pretty bad. Nicole and Judge Margaret were great (Judge being my 2nd favorite character, behind Michael.), but other female characters not so much.

But overall, I really do love this show. It’s one of those really nice warm & fuzzy shows, too (Think “Full House” with slightly funnier writing. Yeah, I said it!). I really wish more queer viewers would try it.

[usagiarchive]

angel of the codeine scene — [03] i know you

prev / masterlist / next

"I feel sick, and I know that I'll lose, but it's not living, if it's not with you,"

sypnosis. [ xiao x adeptus!reader. 1.5k words. angst. ] — a patient who does not want treatment, cannot be treated.

You can feel it in your bones.

It's the constant buzzing behind your eyes, the chilling feeling on the back of your head, and the thrumming of your heart.

You know Xiao.

But you can't remember how exactly.

It's like a memory right in front of you hidden in a façade and just out of your reach.

On the times you do remember, the times when you wake up from a dream you know Xiao was in, it slips from the grasp of your mind just as quickly.

As you look at him now, washing blood off of his weapon in the river, you can't help but feel a sense of déja vu…

“If you have something to say, say it,” he says, eyes still focused on washing the blood out, “I can feel your eyes on me,”

You shake your head.

Not today, you think, I can't ask yet, I don't know how to approach him about this.

He leaves it alone, too.

He knows something, you know it.

It's in the way he told you mortals are fragile beings despite knowing he can sense the adepti blood running in your veins.

It's in the way he leaves you at places where you're in his view, but away from danger while on patrol.

It's in the way he makes sure you're fed and sleeping a normal amount all the time, constantly asking how you're feeling, how you are.

But being cold and distant, still… He doesn't tell you what you're supposed to help him with, he doesn't tell you what hurts, where his wounds are.

Instead, he braves it and always tells you he's fine, nothing hurts, it's just a scratch, and all the like.

How are you supposed to help someone who doesn't seem interested in helping himself?

He was a paradox to you.

…

You were a paradox to him.

He doesn't understand how to… how to deal with you. You seem to be the same, hardworking and persistent.

You come with him to patrol and he keeps you safe but you don't say anything.

This… version… of you is… quiet.

There was no more nagging at him to clean his wounds, to take care of himself better, to dodge the attacks instead of using his body to parry the blows.

You only watch and observe now.

You place cups of tea, medicine, and meals in front of him without so much as a word.

He doesn't know what to do.

Baizhu wasn't like this, he advises Xiao on what to do, tells him how to do it.

Baizhu talks, you don't.

And it concerns him because he knows how you were, you were- you were his lover.

It confuses him to see you alive but not the same. To have the same features from over half a thousand years ago, to hear your voice once more, but not to have… you.

He knows you're different now.

That it's a different you.

You're not the same one he fell in love with, the same one who patched all his wounds (even though you know he regenerates himself), the one he knew a long, long time ago.

But it does not stop him from hoping you would somehow remember.

It still confuses him how he was given you, he does not know why Morax decided to give him a healer in the likeness of his past lover.

As a punishment or a reward, he will never know.

Weapons do not question their wielders.

Servants do not question their masters.

Demons do not question their gods.

…

“How have you been faring with Adeptus Xiao, little healer?” Verr asks you one afternoon as Xiao leaves for a meeting with Ganyu.

The two of you had figured out that the contract only works if Xiao fights, any other situation is alright for the two of you to be separated, but it still shouldn't be for longer than a day, not that he's tried to leave your side for more than half of it anyway.

(“I'll be fine, I just need to talk to her about something, I'll be quick and I will be sure to get you before I go on patrol,” he tells you and waits for a response.

You nod.

A beat, another, and then he's gone.

You think he was waiting for you to say something else.)

“Xiansheng is fine, he treats me well, makes sure I am well-fed,” you tell her, “Not sure if he's the patient or am I,” you joke.

Verr laughs, “You got that right, I've never seen him so… attentive!”

You ponder at that.

“Say, Ms. Verr… what exactly do you know about Xiansheng?”

The woman puts a hand on her chin, then proceeds to tell you all she knows. There you find out that Wangshu Inn houses him and it's not a base, Xiao is a natural recluse, prefers to stay away from humans-

“Why?”

“Oh, it's his karmic debt, it affects humans,”

“It affects humans…” you repeat absentmindedly as Verr continues to tell you information about him.

“Ms. Verr, you don't happen to have any books about karmic debt, do you?”

“I think we do, actually, I'll get my husband to find them later and give them to you,”

“I am eternally grateful,” you tell her.

If he won't tell you what's wrong with him, you won't be able to help him, you'll find out yourself.

…

Xiao lands at Yuehai Pavillion and finds Ganyu already waiting for him with a pot of tea.

They don't say much, they sit in silence as she pours them both a cup of tea and he just stares at the table.

“So, how's the girl?”

“I have no idea how to feel about the whole situation.”

“In what way?”

Xiao sighs, “Ganyu, I love her- I mean the past her, not who she is now… I'm not even sure if she's the same person, I don't know if Morax brought her back to life or if he made an adeptus in the likeness of her.”

“I don't even know if the reason he gave me a healer is because he knows about the karmic debt and is giving me a reprieve, or if this is punishment.”

Ganyu pats his shoulder and pushes the cup of tea towards him but he shakes his head.

She sighs, “Have you tried asking her? Maybe she knows more than she lets on,”

The other adepti shakes his head, “I don't even know how to not look at her and not feel my heart clenching, I know it's not her anymore, Ganyu,”

“And I can't even ask her if she remembers, so I try in a different way, I try to make sure she sleeps well, that- that's she's never hungry- like before- I-”

He sobs.

Ganyu snaps her head in shock. In five hundred years, Xiao has never weeped. Not even because of the pain from his karmic debt.

Xiao has always braved the pain and put on a front in front of everyone. Weakness is not a word in his dictionary and neither is vulnerability.

“But I can't,” he heaves, “Every time I look at her, my throat locks up and I want to cry and tell her so much, tell her I'm sorry- that- that I didn't make it in- in time,”

Ganyu doesn't know what to say, she's in shock that Xiao is even crying in front of him, and she's in deeper shock that he's actually communicating his feelings.

“I loved her, but I know that isn't her anymore, and there's so much going in here,” he clutches his chest, just right above his heart, “That I haven't the slightest idea what to do,”

Ganyu gathers him up in her arms as he sobs on her shoulder, and she thinks- no, she knows, that you are exactly what Xiao needs for his karmic debt.

Call it a sixth sense, but first…

Who exactly were you to him?

…

Xiao returns in late afternoon, he finds you asleep on the desk with books scattered around, brush in hand as your ink was left open, the writing on the paper trailing off.

He still doesn't know how to feel or what to do as his chest constricts.

Xiao reaches out to your shoulder to wake you, but decides against it, instead he lifts you towards the bed, sits beside you, and tucks you in.

“You said you'd be quick,” you rasp, blinking the sleepiness away, but failing.

“Our… conversation ran longer than I intended,” he murmurs, pulling the sheets over your shoulders.

It's then when you notice his eyes rimmed with red.

“Are you… alright, xiansheng?”

It takes him a while to answer.

“I'm fine,” he stands, “Get more sleep,”

Xiao exits through the window, he'll be on the balcony and will get you when it's time for patrol, you know this, but you can't help the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Who exactly was he to you?

usagi's note: GIRL I AM LOVING THE WAY I WRITE RN. it seems so cohesive these days and im so happy abt it.

anyway i was playing earlier, and i was so shocked to have a world quest in hadramaveth desert. like i thought i finished everything since natlan is the only nation i dont have 100%'d and IT WAS ABOUT JEHT. ILY JEHT. UEUEUEUEUEUEU 😭😭😭😭😭. i love her sm. it was her last quest so im like rlly bittersweet abt it since i wont ever get to see her again (pls make a quest hoyo pls)

taglist (open!!): @irenedoesthings @cherrysnows @makuzume @smoochi-modest @bvtterflyyy

@usagiarchive 2024. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated!! lmk ur thoughts pls <33

[pipfitzam0bi]

Can I say something?

Most people that say stuff like "oh, I don't mind furries I just don't like the sexual ones" are the most FAKE people in the world. I've met some people like that, and also saw them insulting furries a second later. I'm so tired of these fake, shitty people who just put on a poker face.

I've had people come up to me, with the weirdest excuses to hate on furries

"oh, I hate them cus a furry was weird to me on Roblox"

AND? So every furry in the world is suddenly a weird Roblox player? The fuck does that mean?

"oh, I hate furries because I don't wanna wear a fursuit"

WHAT? Where is it written you're supposed to wear a fursuit? The hell?

"I hate furries because they're sexual"

Probably like 10% of the community likes sexual stuff. And also it's in every fandom. EVERY COMMUNITY HAS A SEXUAL PART, GODDAMNIT! (Ex: Pokemon)

Can people stop being such assholes and dumbasses just because they don't have an actual reason to hate on furries? I asked a hater why they insulted me and they didn't even have an answer!

Also can we talk about the zoophile thing? Why Is every furry a zoophile? I didn't even know they existed until this year! But every furry has to put ANTIZOO as big as a mountain cus the moment they are seen with any animal they are suddenly a zoo? Wtf?

So why can "normal" people KISS THEIR DOGS and it's suddenly ok?

And when I point that out I'm suddenly supposed to shut up. It's indecent.

Haters: GROW UP FOR THE LOVE OF XHZHE1BWUXEXB6BDY9RBY8BDWBU9H9

if I see another hater being this stupid I'm gonna slam my hands against the wall so hard they bleed.

#STOPFURRYHATE!

(Ok, so this isn't a therian post, but I'm still putting alterhuman hashtags cus some alterhumans are also furries.)