#thanks for reading babes

[cowboylor]

hi hi what do I need to do for more Matty fics 🖤🖤🖤

firstborn. now.

[14dayswithyou]

This angel has another question! \o

do you have a general idea of what renrens voice would sound like? like a celebrity, singer, or maybe just a general description?

i hope all is going well for you 🫶🫶

✦゜ANSWERED: Ren's singing vc can be found here (I misread the original ask and thought it said "sings like", not "sounds like" sdksdgjs), but it also includes what I think Ren's talking voice would sound like ^^

But!! if I had to give an example, I've always imagined Eve (from Nier) to be very similar to Ren's talking voice!! It's soft, timid, and has that curious lilt to it — but also has dat [REDACTED] edge as well >:3

[traffrogers]

Not @briefle, @terraglows and i making a comic for @hotguycomiczine???? surely????? with much help from @gingermaple

[ecstarry]

"The Lap Dance" Mature // 485 words

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. James had never felt as lucky as he did right then and there. He looked around and could see that everyone was cheering, but he was too fucking dizzy and horny to actually make sense of the noise. 

He was in a chair, a little drunk, and with a semi-hard as he watched Regulus slowly approaching him. First, taking off his jacket and throwing it at Barty who whistled and licked the fucking thing. 

Regulus was wearing a shirt, emphasis on was, because he took it off and James’ gaze watched as it fell on the floor. A shirtless Regulus was approaching him, he had never wanted this bad to be sober, he desperately wished to take every single second of this in. 

James made a mental note to thank Peter for winning that beer pong round against Regulus and then to thank Dorcas for suggesting this as the punishment. 

The second the tip of Regulus’ finger touched his chin, James’ cock twitched. In a moment, Regulus wasn’t just touching him, but he was on top of him. He was sitting on his lap, moving his hips, ass entirely resting on top of James’ cock as he danced to a song James was not paying attention to. 

Regulus took James’ hand and pressed it against his bare chest. Regulus threw his head back as he guided James’ palm all over him. 

“Are you enjoying this?” Regulus asked, laughing. 

James had never seen Regulus like this, letting go, enjoying himself. He seemed to be having just as much of a good time as James. 

The only thing James could make sense of in that moment was how fucking amazing Regulus felt under his touch. Regulus leaned in and his hands traveled all the way from James’ back to his ass. James closed his eyes and when he opened them he watched as Regulus held up not only James’ wallet but he had taken out a dollar. 

Regulus put the money in his mouth and grabbed James' chin. He moved close enough for James to take the bill with his teeth. 

“Now place it wherever you want, Jamie,” Regulus whispered in his ear. 

James was a stuttering mess at that point, but he would take advantage of this moment up to the last second. He wrapped his arms around Regulus’ waist and laid him back delicately, with his free hand he slightly opened Regulus’ zipper and placed the bill right there, before zipping it back up. 

Regulus let out a delicious noise, James wanted to get more out of him, he want- 

“Time's up!” Someone screamed and James was ready to commit murder.

Regulus patted James' chin and stood up. “Well, that was fun.”

James carefully stored this memory to relive it over and over again the moment he had some time alone with his hand and his thoughts. 

“Yeah, it really was.” 

[lost-in-fandoms]

I love your writing so much!! If you are taking prompts (no pressure!!!!): daniel doing something cute for max’s bday while they are together in Perth after Singapore ❤️

Hello, I love you!! You are SO nice and I appreciate you sending a prompt! This was probably not what you were envisioning, even if there are cute things happening, but I hope you like it anyway. I wanted more birthday stuff but it sort of ran away from me. Also, this is about 2k oh god.

Daniel figured out in the early days, even before they were actually together, that Max doesn't care much about his birthday.

He will never say no to cake (unless his trainer gives him really mean looks), he appreciates gifts, and he loves a good party, but he has no real feelings about it being his birthday.

Daniel had asked him about it once, wondering if maybe there was some sort of deep rooted trauma behind it he didn't know about, but Max had just shrugged, easy and relaxed. It is not important, Daniel, when I get old, if I am getting older every day.

He knows that this year Max has no plans for it, and knows that neither of them minds, both just wanting a quiet day with each other.

It's been...a lot, lately.

Even here, away from the crowds and the hungry world that has just recently spit him out, like a bitter and unwanted bite, it's not been easy to let everything go.

The first two days after landing they had barely left the bed, sleeping and kissing lazily, too drained to even have sex. The third day they had spent with Daniel's family. The fourth, the one when the news had become official for the world, he had gotten horrifically drunk, in a way he hadn't done in years, Max being the one providing glasses of water for once and hands on his forehead while he was crying over a toilet bowl. He doesn't have many memories of the fifth one, spent nursing the worst hungover on this side of thirty.

And then he had tried to start his new life.

He doesn't know yet how that will look like, which makes it harder, but he's taking one step at a time, like his mom has been telling him.

Yesterday's step had been joining Max for some training, because he doesn't want to actually become a couch potato, and looking into finding a new internet provider after Max's numerous complaints.

Today's first step is going to be the farmers market.

He considers waking up Max for it, but it's barely seven a.m., and he doesn't actually want to be threatened with bodily harm this early in the day, so he leaves him with a kiss (Max doesn't even stir) and a post-it note on the bedside table.

It doesn't take long for him to decide that the farmers market isn't for him, at least not yet. Maybe it's an acquired taste, but there's just too much going on, bustling people pressing around him, vendors loudly calling out prices, colorful things attracting his attention everywhere, making his head spin.

He manages to get what he wanted and then flees, back to the safety of his car and towards the quiet of the farm.

It's only when he's halfway there that he realises that a few years ago he would have loved all of it, and then has to force himself to not have an existential crisis over it, wondering if it's just a result of getting old, or if something about the last few months has irrevocably broken him.

When he pokes his head into the bedroom, he finds that Max is awake, sitting up against the headboard, phone in hand and blankets pooled around his waist, looking soft and sleep-mussed.

"Good morning," Daniel says, stepping inside and feeling the warmth of Max's smile wrap around his lungs. "Happy birthday."

Max, impossibly, seems to soften further, his ears growing pinker.

"Thank you," he says, his voice still raspy with sleep. He reaches for Daniel, but he holds up a hand, taking a step back towards the door.

"Hold on, I have something for you. Don't move."

He watches as Max makes a show of settling back against the pillows and stilling there, beaming at him when Daniel laughs, retreating in the other room.

He comes back holding a paper bag and a bottle of orange juice in one hand and a small bouquet of flowers in the other, offering both to Max with a smile, refusing to feel self conscious about it.

Max blinks up at him, fingers just a touch away from Daniel's hand, surprise and confusion mixing on his face.

"For me?" he asks, soft and amazed.

Daniel nods, not really trusting himself to speak, and Max finally closes the distance, wrapping his fingers around the bunch of stems and taking the flowers from Daniel, pulling them close to his chest and burying his face into the colorful petals.

Daniel doesn't really know what kinds of flowers they are, he just chose a few that looked pretty, but he doesn't think it matters. Not when Max looks up at him again, cheeks red and eyes bright, smiling wide wide wide, happy and lovely.

"Thank you, Daniel," he says, so earnestly it cracks something open in Daniel's chest, unwanted and unexpected, making him feel like everything is too much once again.

Luckily, Max seems to notice, because he always notices, and he settles the flower gently on the blankets, uncaring of the wet stems, before tugging Daniel down in his lap. His hands are solid weights on Daniel's hips, and for the first time since he woke up that morning, Daniel feels like he can breathe fully, settled and steady, the feeling of being adrift that he had refused to acknowledge pushed away for a little while longer.

"What's in there?" Max asks, thumbs rubbing circles on Daniel's hipbones, gesturing with his chin towards the paper bag still in Daniel's hand.

The smell of baked goods has for sure given it away already, but Daniel makes a show of it, extracting a croissant as if it was a bunny from a magic hat, wishing Max's laughter could seep right into his bloodstream, weaving itself around his cells.

Max bites into the croissant cheerfully, not minding the flaky crumbs that rain down on the sheets, thanking Daniel again and humming his approval.

Daniel's chest feels warm.

"What's that?" Max asks again while he chews, pointing at the orange juice.

"Orange juice," Daniel tells him, untwisting the cap and offering the bottle to him, missing Max's hand as soon as it's gone. "Watched Marco squeeze it fresh myself."

He does his best to keep his face straight as Max hesitates, bottle halfway up to his mouth, eyes narrowing.

"Marco?"

"Charming guy, yes," Daniel teases, unable to keep himself from smiling any longer, amused by Max's frown, "about sixty years old."

The frown disappears as fast as it had formed, and Max smirks at him, finally taking a sip.

"Forty years too old for you," he says once he has swallowed, laughing at Daniel's outraged squeak.

Max makes it up to him by offering him the middle bite of the croissant, sweet custard oozing onto his fingers, and then again by kissing Daniel thoroughly, sweet with vanilla and sugar.

"I have something else," Daniel tells him some time later, when they're all kissed out, pushing away from Max's chest and clambering back onto his feet.

Max follows him without question, tugging on a pair of shorts abandoned on the floor, and grabbing the flowers from the bed, taking them to the kitchen counter before joining Daniel outside.

Daniel grabs his hand, because he can here, away from prying eyes, and guides him around the porch to a cardboard box peeping quietly.

Max gasps, immediately crouching in front of it and opening it, letting out a surprised laugh when he sees what's inside: four little chicks, fluffy and pale yellow, tweeting up at him.

"You said we needed them to have a real farm," he says, carding his fingers through Max's hair, "and mom said I needed a project."

Max has his fingers in the box already, trying to pet the chicks without startling them, but he leans back to beam up at him, eyes crinkling.

"I love them," he declares, steady and unashamed, before turning back to the box.

This time, he manages to scoop two chicks up in his cupped hands, taking them out and cradling them against his chest, humming happily.

"I think you're their mama now," Daniel jokes, "you'll have to come back for them."

He knows he's said the wrong thing as soon as it's out of his mouth, Max's shoulders tensing, even as his hands stay gentle around the chicks. He doesn't know how to backtrack though, doesn't really want to, so he watches as Max puts them down again and gets up, knees cracking.

He goes to make a joke about that too, something about Max getting old, but the words get stuck in his throat at the sight of Max's unhappy expression.

"Of course I'm coming back, Daniel," Max says with a frown, steely certainty behind it. "Did you think I was going to leave and..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, crossing his arms and looking away, blinking rapidly.

"I..." Daniel swallows, picking at a cuticle on his thumb. "I'm sorry."

It's again the wrong thing to say, Max turning back towards him, eyes shiny and thunderous expression.

"I love you, Daniel," he snaps, forceful and determined. "I love you, Daniel, not the you who races. I am not going to fuck off and leave just because..."

He shakes his head, reels himself in. Daniel doesn't know if he's breathing, but if he was, he stops when Max steps closer, bringing his hands up to cup his cheeks.

"I will have to leave, because I need to finish this season, and maybe the next, I don't know, but I am always coming back. Any time I can find time, I will be here. Or in LA, or wherever you will decide to be."

Max swipes his thumb along Daniel's cheekbone, leaning forward to gently thump their foreheads together.

"I wish you were racing with me," he whispers, a confession he hadn't let Daniel have yet. Daniel's heart is split open. "Always it is better, to race with you. I thought we would be racing until we both retired, but I don't care that it is different. I will miss you, when you're here and I am there, and then I will come back."

Max's fingers are damp with Daniel's tears now, and Daniel lets himself be tugged closer, wrapped in the safest arms he knows, hiding his face in Max's neck.

"I'm sorry," he croaks again when he finally finds his voice again, twisting his hands on the back of Max's sleep shirt.

He feels Max's take a deep breath, letting it out against Daniel's hair.

"I wish I could fix it," he says slowly, measuring his words, "but I don't like when you say that I will leave. I have never left. I will not start now."

And he's right, Daniel knows he's right, but it's been hard to remember what he still has lately, after everything went down.

He nods against Max's skin and then lets Max hold him, gently rocking side to side, the chicks peeping softly at their feet, until he doesn't feel like he's going to break with every stuttering breath anymore.

"I was thinking we could go down to the trail," he murmurs, lips dragging against Max's damp shirt. "Take some food, have a picnic. I bought bread rolls."

Max squeezes him tightly once more before putting some distance between them to be able to look at his face, smiling gently.

"I like that. You can make the food while I take the babies to their new coop."

Daniel freezes.

"You have bought a coop too, right Daniel?" Max asks, eyebrows raising. Daniel can feel himself blush.

"I...didn't think about it?" he tries to justify himself.

For a second Max just stares at him, and then he starts laughing, dropping his head against Daniel's chest.

"Stop laughing at me!" Daniel whines, hitting Max's shaking back, but making no move to step away.

Max hits him back, then straightens himself, laughter still etched in the lines of his face.

"Alright," he says, slightly out of breath, "we are going to buy a coop instead. Or build a coop, I don't know what is better, we'll have to call your dad. And we'll do the trail tomorrow, or the day after."

Tomorrow, or the day after.

It seems to hit Daniel all at once, that this is the start. He has tomorrow, and the day after, to do anything he wants. To go on hikes with his boyfriend, to think about new projects, to pick up old hobbies and interests, no schedules to stop him. And he will have tomorrow, and the day after, even when Max has to leave to go racing again, because Max will come back, to have more tomorrows, and the days after, with him.

He surges forward, crashing his lips against Max's, who gasps in surprise but eagerly kisses him back, until all that's left in his brain is tomorrow and Max.

Only then he lets Max go again, stepping back with a smile.

"Let's go get a house for the babies, baby."

And in the lines of Max's smile he can almost see it already: tomorrow, and the day after.

[lambment]

ya'll really just let me yap on here

[wanderingblindly]

Could you maybe possibly write something for 30. As comfort for landoscar?

And mayhaps lando comforting Oscar? I feel like we rarely see that dynamic, typically it’s the other way around, it would be interesting to see it swapped!

ok hear me out, it's less so traditional comforting and more so.... teasingly comforting? Like Lando somehow being able to tell Oscar's distressed when no one else does, but he's high after his vegas crash (anyone remember those pictures? i do. perfection) prompt list

Illusion of Indifference

They can't wait much longer to start the debrief, if not solely because the strip will open back up eventually; Vegas will return to its normal circus, thankful that they don't have to think about Formula 1 for at least a few more months.

Oscar unlocks his phone, hidden under the table, and spares it a quick glance.

No texts.

The clock's just struck 1am. Not that time really matters much during the season – Oscar just goes where he's told, when he's told – but it's been a while since the race ended.

More notably, it's been a while since he's heard news on Lando. But he's fine, certainly. They would have told Oscar if he wasn't fine; they would have given him sad looks securely tucked behind carefully curated masks, they would have avoided his gaze. So he's fine. And therefore Oscar's fine.

Andrea is saying something that he tries his best to hear, pressing his finger into the table emphatically – driving the point home. It hadn't been a remarkable race from Oscar's end, though P10 is better than nothing. A point in his rookie season is a point in his rookie season, after all.

Oscar's lips turn down at the corners as he thinks about it, leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest.

Still no texts. The clock's struck 1:15am.

The door slams open loudly, bouncing back against it's hinges and crashing into the wall. Everyone in the room jumps, Oscar turns to look at the noise.

"Oops," Lando giggles, a vaguely apologetic-looking Jon popping up over his shoulder. "Soz guys, Jon's so slow." The words are a little slurred, but he's in one piece.

He's standing in the doorway on his own, drowning in an oversized jacket he probably nicked from a team member, and he's smiling. No bandages on his face – Oscar's eyes flick down – no casts on his arms. Nothing on his legs, no unevenness in his gate as he walks over –

"Oh Oscar," He sighs, a heavy, intoxicated hand slamming onto his shoulder; he kind of misses, hand awkwardly spanning a bit onto his neck. Lando smiles down at him, and Oscar realizes just how much pain medication they have him on; his pupils are massive, almost alarmingly so. "You were scared, mate?"

Oscar makes a noise, furrowing his brows. He'd been entirely calm, sitting patiently and waiting. Everyone would agree that he'd been handling it so –

Lando looks over at Andrea and holds a finger up to his lips, like he's about to share a secret. "Y'wanna know how y'can tell?"

The team watches on, a few of them giggling at Lando's slight sway, Jon moments away from burying his face in his hands.

"It's his heart," He starts, making some flailing motion with his free hand. "Goes all, bumpbumpbumpbump like frickin' crazy."

Oscar opens his mouth to defend himself, because how would Lando even know, but then he feels it – a slight shift in Lando's hands on his shoulder, definitely more on the side of his neck than not.

Oh.

"Ooooooh," Lando coos, leaning closer to inspect his face. "He's blushing, you guys!"

"That's enough, Lando," Jon finally pipes up, moving to put Oscar out of his racing-heart-burning-face misery.

"Just lemme," Lando grins – a little crooked – and leans even closer; Oscar, borderline hypnotized by the thin ring of his irises, the flutter of his tired eyes, can't even move. Without hesitation, Lando presses his lips to Oscar's forehead – soft and warm and, much to Oscar's horror, butterfly-inducing. "All better, yeah?" Lando laughs, finally letting himself be pulled back by Jon.

"Uh," Oscar says ineloquently, looking over at his team for some sort of direction. They all stare back, hiding smiles and chuckles behind their hands.

"Want Kim to check your heart rate, Oscar?" Andrea asks, earning a fresh peal of laughter from Lando – finally sat in a chair on the opposite side of the table.

[fromtheseventhhell]

Imagine being 9 years old and asking your dad about the things you're interested in doing when you grow up and he's like "No ❤️! But you can get married, have babies, and then maybe your sons can do those things ☺️🫶 "

[tommytomatoe]

sweetheart always had a morbid curiosity about death. it was something you experienced only once, something so tailored to the individual. they were fascinated and often wondered what one thinks about in their final moments. as they laid on the ground, staring at the sky, a quick breeze came by, shaking the trees above and sending stray leaves falling by their head. they didn’t notice. birds chirped all around them, and while their songs were loud, echoing through the forest, they didn’t muffle out the frantic footsteps running in the other direction, away from them. the ground under sweetheart felt wet. a white hot pain filled their chest. their body was confused, frantically cloaking then uncloacking. both their literal and supernatural core were on fire. and while the world was spinning around them with so many sounds, a red stain slowly growing larger through their department uniform shirt, they didn’t notice any of it. their mind thought of one thing and one thing only,  their kitchen cabinets.

when milo and sweetheart first bought their house, the kitchen cabinets were the first thing they planned to fix. there was nothing inherently wrong with them, they were standard gray cabinets with brass handles, they served their purpose. but they were the same style cabinets milo and sweetheart had in their old apartment, and while it seemed like a small thing, this wasn’t an apartment anymore. it was a house. it was their house. they could do and change whatever they wanted. so instead of tackling the overgrown backyard or faulty plumbing in the guest bathroom, they settled for something more manageable, more sentimental to them as their first home project, redoing their kitchen cabinets.

milo, always the man with a plan, already made the list of supplies they’d need for their DIY cabinet renovation. most items on the list were already checked off. they had the paint and the primer and everything they needed to sand and gloss the cabinets. all they needed to do was find the time to go to the hardware store and pick out the new handles. that was the final check mark on their list. after that, they were set to paint their kitchen cabinets the color they wanted with the handles they chose. it was one step closer to making their house truly theirs. 

today was the day they were supposed to get it done. it was a beautiful, hot summer day, both milo and sweetheart were off work and planned to take full advantage of it. they had a relaxing morning, laying in bed longer than they should, playing with aggro longer than they should, bickering over whether to make breakfast or pick something up on the way into town. it was turning out to be a shockingly relaxing weekend.

as sweetheart and milo were getting ready to leave for the hardware store, both their phone’s rang. asher called milo, telling him to come over to david’s for a backyard bbq, one milo asked if david had any idea was happening. asher snickered in response which meant he did not. the department called sweetheart, telling them they needed to come in quickly and that they would be sent thirty minutes out of dahlia to be on scene for an arrest.

it didn’t surprise sweetheart to be called in today, a work life balance with the department was a fictitious thing. what did surprise them was milo’s reaction. when they fought, which was pretty rare, it could be traced back to one of two things; money or the department. he was sick of the department taking advantage of sweetheart’s good nature and passion for their job. sometimes, this frustration felt more directed at sweetheart than at the department. sweetheart knew it, they were basically a doormat for their supervisors and no more than a number to the department, but that didn't stop it from stinging when milo would point it out. much to his disdain, sweetheart changed into their uniform. they promised when this was over they’d get the cabinet handles and continue on with their weekend as planned. but milo was so fed up with everything he just huffed and grabbed his keys, muttering strings of “whatever's” and “it’s fine”. in the car on the way to the scene, sweetheart sent milo a stream of texts apologizing for ruining their weekend plans and promising to make it up to him somehow. they didn’t receive a response but saw he read the messages.

sweetheart wondered what would happen if they didn’t come in today. if they’d listened to milo and just told the department no. it was their weekend, one they wanted to spend with their partner and their friends. but because sweetheart couldn’t say no, they were instead here. alone on the ground in the woods, an hour from home, in a pool of their own blood, thinking about cabinets.

what sweetheart hated more than fighting with milo was when they left fights unresolved. when fights went unresolved, sweetheart would spend every second of every hour replaying it in their mind. they would over analyze every word, every expression, every little moment. it was just how their brain worked. going into this job was no different. their attention was on one thing and one thing only, even though they were briefed on the drive over about the case details and what to expect, its fair to say their mind was just somewhere else.

and while they were replaying milo walking out of the house as they were walking further into the woods to the location the department told them to go, all they could think of was where he was going. what he was feeling. they didn’t hear the footsteps creeping behind them. they didn’t hear the rustle of clothes. they didn’t hear the gun cock. they missed all the signs and didn’t cloak. and in the blink of an eye, they were on the ground. it all happened so fast. 

too stunned to speak, sweetheart felt their body go into overdrive. their stealth nature tried to hide them but it was too late. a puddle was growing underneath them. they didn’t scream. they were going into shock, and all they could do was think of the stupid cabinets. all they could do was think of milo, angry at them for taking this call. to think of milo, wherever he was. to think of milo, going back to an empty house. and how he’d probably be going back to an empty house everyday after today.

as the trees above began to grow blurry and the sound of the birds grew more distant, sweetheart didn’t know what hurt worse, the bullet hole in their chest or the fact that, if this is really it for them, they’d never see what would become of those cabinets. that they’d stay dull and gray, never to be changed, never to be truly theirs.

[dianacavendishisgay]

I love your Little Witch Academia art ✨️

Thank you very much! Here are some of the babies.

I hope you still like them even with my art style changing so much. Thank you for interacting with this blog even while it’s inactive.

I have no plans on returning to being super active but I’ll reblog things I see and who knows I might rewatch lwa and end up sucked in again.

Thats all. Until next time.

[pharawee]

Welcome to the second part of my Pit Babe novel commentary aka "hey this isn't so ba---wait where's Babe's sudden daddy kink even coming from??"

And I try (oh my god do I try). 🤡

I'm now at chapter 10, trying to pace myself because the (auto-translated) translation I'm reading is apparently a WIP. I'm on the edge of my seat. The plot is beginning to thicken.

Previously, Charlie was being sus and Babe was catching feelings, but most importantly there was a lot of pwp and very little racing.

Now there's more racing. Babe even brings Charlie (he still has to wear a mask and a hat) but gets too distracted by his presence (he's apparently addicting enough to kiss through the mask) and promptly forgets to check his car before the race (even though Charlie warns him against it but such is the power of scent - or lack of scent in this case. I don't even know anymore - neither does Babe but at some point Charlie states that's he's now in an alpha rut which I suppose means exactly what it says on the tin).

But, oh no! Babe runs into trouble during the race. He loses the lead and his car gets increasingly difficult to control until it crashes and bursts into flames. But it's okay, Babe jumps out of the driving car just in the nick of time (have you ever seen a supercar outfitted for racing? It's difficult enough to climb into one - funny how I'm apparently okay with omegaverse shenanigans but I draw the line at wonky motorsports physics 🤣).

Anyway, the track marshals are doing a really shit job because somehow they 1. let Charlie on the track to singlehandedly try and rescue Babe and 2. they also completely miss that Babe has literally jumped ship car and is lying on the track. He ends up with a broken wrist and a sprained knee (or was it the other way around? anyway, he's wearing several casts) which means he won't be able to finish the season and lose the title of King (all because he was too horny to check his car... but yeah also apparently it was sabotage  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ).

So much for the racing part.

Babe needs weeks to heal so naturally he needs Charlie to pamper and feed him and dick him down several times a day but what else is new. No offence to the the dicking down part but ugh I hate this trope. Maybe it's just because I dislike the dynamics but I don't like the way Babe is taking on more and more cliché omega traits. If I have to read one more time about how much smaller he is (or about his "rounded" hips... are you ok google translate?)...

Oh, and btw. There are omegas in this! Charlie gets flirted at by one (which Babe absolutely hates) and he does have a scent and all. Later, when Charlie is busy being extremely sus again he meets up with a childhood friend, Jeff (Pon's character in the series is called Jeff - oh. oh no...), and if I'm not mistaken he's an omega as well. Jeff cautions Charlie against being with Babe and displeasing his father (which also seems to be Jeff's father? Dude sure has a lots of adoptive kids...) but Charlie argues that he knows what he's doing and he doesn't want to stop anyway.

Later on he tells the exact same thing to his (adoptive?) father, and why do I get the feeling that this might be the same father Babe mentioned earlier when he was telling a feverish Charlie a story to get him to sleep:

In his story, Babe mentions how when he was very small he used to go hungry every day because his mum was out of the picture and his father didn't even make enough money bring food to the table. One day the hunger was so bad that he passed out and woke up in the hospital where a stranger told him he'd be his new family. With little choice in the matter, Babe accepted and went on to spend the rest of his childhood well-cared for and in elite schools etc. That is, until he turned (presumably...) 18 and discovered that his father didn't adopt him out of the kindness of his heart but for ulterior motives that Babe doesn't explain any further because at that point Charlie has fallen asleep.

So yeah, what are the odds that Babe's "father" and Charlie's father are the same person (no spoilers, please)? Because if so then... that's disturbing, especially since Charlie's father seems to want Charlie to lure Babe back home. I mean, Charlie seems to have his own plans but it's not like his father throws him out after their secret meeting. Sus, very sus.

Meanwhile, Babe is slowly losing his heightened senses (the novel doesn't mention it yet but I'm pretty sure this is Charlie's doing) but he doesn't seem to mind because he's too busy falling in love. There's a lovely scene where Charlie and he spend the night stargazing, and this is when Babe realises that something's different because usually his heart only beats this fast when he thinks about racing (lmao).

Cue to them not having sex for a week because Babe feels like he's going crazy.

Meanwhile, it's been decided that Charlie will finish Babe's racing season for him because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and I'm sure he'll win the title too because he's Charlie, alphaest of alphas. Or something.

So one night Babe officially introduces him to the rest of team X-Hunter (and curiously Sonic and North seem to be racers in the novel as well) but things go awry when Babe is too busy fooling around with Way (no you cannot be affectionate with a male friend in a BL novel it is forbidden!!). Charlie and Babe argue and proceed to ignore each other for the rest of the night until they make up (and out) during the official X-Hunter sleepover (with Way and another poor dude sleeping in the same room).

They're polite enough to seek out the indoor pool (this isn't even their house - have you no shame?) and talk it out. And by talk it out I mean there's an inappropriate amount of daddy-calling and Little Mermaid jokes. This is where Charlie claims Babe. Yes, there's knotting (I think? like I said, I'm not axactly an expert and auto-translate is a bit vague, bless its little AI heart). Charlie threatens (I'm sure it's all meant very lovingly 🤡) to impregnate Babe if there's no other way to show others that he's his. To which Babe replies that that's impossible anway.

It's impossible, right? Right??

[red1culous]

Only she could execute such a plan to perfection. And R would never know.

No Place But the Water

“Good God what is that smell?” She says and your eyes grow as big as dinner plates. Just then the smoke detector in the kitchen starts a deafening screech. 

“Oh shit!” you curse and run off in its direction. Nat follows after you and sees you disappear into a plume of smoke. She hears you cough several times before she jumps into action and helps by cracking open the windows.

“Here” you say throwing a kitchen towel in her direction. She watches with amusement as you grab a broom and swing it around using the handle end to give the smoke detector a solid whack. It gives out one final bleat, then falls silent. 

“You burned dinner?” she says a smile plastered on her face. 

“I think so” you answer sheepishly. You never burn dinner. This wasn’t something you did. “In my defence it’s kinda your fault” you quickly add punching the exhaust fan to full speed. 

“Me?” she says pointing to herself with a chuckle carrying her words.

“Yes you” you tsk playfully. “You interrupted my cooking time” you say grabbing the pot holders and pulling out the smoking charred remains of something unrecognisable from the oven. You set it on the stovetop and grab a pair of tongs which you use to pick apart the sizzling dish. With each pull and prod smokey bits of overcooked food flake off like charcoal. You sigh inwardly and curse her perfect timing. 

You both exchange a look before bursting into a fit of laughter. And then, because you were looking at her with a look of complete softness, she realises that something probably needed to be said. She goes with the safest option. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t that hungry anyway” you lie tipping the spoiled food into the bin. You drop the pan into the sink and wipe your hands on your apron. Natasha watches you throughout as if she wanted to ask you something but is purposely holding back. “Can I offer you something to drink?” you say when you don’t know what more you can do with your hands.

“Oh no” she blinks a few times, “I just came to drop these off”. She holds up a box of cookies with a small smile. You take the white box from her and break the seal to peer inside. 

“They’re from my favourite bakery.”

You already had a cookie in between your thumb and index finger. You were studying the enormous chunks of chocolate studding its surface liberally. 

“It’s hard to eat just one” Nat adds watching you with a gentle smile on her face.

You take an experimental bite, chewing for a moment before unexpectedly moaning at the explosion of flavours in your mouth. Nat makes a mental note to never forget that sound.

You wipe the crumbs from your mouth before setting the box down on the counter and facing Natasha. “You didn’t have to come all this way just for that.”

You both fall silent standing across from one another. It was awkward but not uncomfortably so. 

“I wanted to. Plus it’s not out of my way” she says with a rueful smile that lifts the corner of her mouth a little. 

You chuckle softly at her sad attempt at a lie. Tilting your head to the side and suck in a breath. “Nat, it’s an hour from the Compound.”

The lift of Nat’s mouth becomes a full smile. She ducks her head in embarrassment at being caught out. “Righttt..” she breathes, “I should probably go now” she motions to the door and starts to walk backwards out of the kitchen. 

“Thank you for the cookies” you say before she’s completely gone. You hear her respond something with a laugh just before the front door shuts. 

----

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[ecstarry]

you asked for a character and a situation so Marlene when she learns that James and regulus are dating❤️ Also congrats on the followers you deserve it and your writing is the best🫶🫶🫶

send me a 💌 with a character and situation and i'll write a letter or a cute note from that pov

[friezaglasiencold]

Do you and Kuriza ever/still cuddle and bond or do you take care of them in the small basic ways?

Of course I do. What sort of negligent brute do you take me for?

[visualtaehyun]

I wanted to talk a bit about how our two sets of besties in Naughty Babe (and Cutie Pie) talk to each other because the interactions in episode 3 especially were so funny and I want everyone to understand the intricacies!

Disclaimer: not a native speaker of Thai, still learning 🙏

(Because they're all color-coded in the show, I shall use everyone's respective colors - Diao, Yi, Lian, Kuea)

Last week, I already talked about the scene wherein Yi asks what he usually calls Diao. The short answer: Yi calls himself เฮีย /hia/ (a polite pronoun for an older male, that's of Chinese origin and technically means older brother) and Diao he mostly calls น้องเดียว /nong Diao/ (น้อง /nong/ likewise refers to someone younger, technically meaning younger sibling). Here for example:

น้องเดียวป้อนข้าวเฮียหน่อยได้ไหม /nong diao bpawn khao hia noi dai mai/

Yi speaks differently with different people though!

Yi and Lian

They both use the rude informal pronouns กู /guu/ (= I) and มึง /mueng/ (= you) with each other. Hence why it was so funny that an amnesiac Yi proceeded to use the formal polite pronouns ผม /pom/ (= I) and คุณ /khun/ (= you) when Lian first entered his room, considering how he freaked out earlier and used rude pronouns with Diao (which I also talked about last week).

So this?

รักอี้น่ะ /rak Yi na/ อี้ก็รักเหลียนน่ะ /Yi gaw rak Lian na/

Referring to themselves and each other by their names is not just super cutesy but also wildly out of character for them. 😂 And it's also more sickenly sweet than how Diao and Kuea actually talk to each other!! So let's take a look at them.

Diao and Kuea

Diao calls himself by his own name, so mostly เดียว /Diao/, (which makes him sound cute) and he calls Yi เฮีย /hia/. In fact, he seems to refer to himself as such with basically everyone he's close to so also with Kuea and Yi's dad Makorn. He's a Sweet Polite Boy so he only adjusts his register and formality levels, depending on who he's speaking to. Talking to Yi, we can see him using the polite ending particle ครับ /khab/ and here for example he uses a more formal word for 'eat', ทาน /taan/.

��ันนี้เฮียยังไม่ได้ทานอะไรเล้ยนะครับ /wan nee hia yang mai dai taan a rai loei na khap/

I've only noticed him switch to the polite, more formal pronoun ผม /pom/ (= I) with the guards so far (it's also less intimate-sounding than using his own name).

งั้นเดี๋ยว ผมไปปลุกให้นะครับ /ngan diao pom bpai bplook hai na khap/ (Don't let the romanization fool you, this diao means 'Wait a minute', it's not his name.)

Kuea is similar to Diao, in that he uses his own name เกื้อ /Kuea/ and more polite speech with elders or people he grew up with, like his parents, Lian, and Yi. With Diao (and all his other friends as well!) he uses กู /guu/ (= I) and มึง /mueng/ (= you). Diao continues to be a Sweet Polite Boy though, he just doesn't use rude pronouns! With Kuea he uses names, so เดียว /Diao/ for himself and เกื้อ /Kuea/ for Kuea.

รักเกื้อน่ะ /rak Kuea na/ กูก็รักมึงน่ะ /guu gaw rak mueng na/

See the difference between the besties and why that imaginary scene between Yi and Lian was especially funny?

There's one more thing though...

Yi and Kuea

Notice how they're both color-coded red on the show? Yeah. There's a reason why they butt heads. Of course they both love Diao dearly and are protective over him but Yi and Kuea also have similar personalities. Combine those two factors and you get pettiness and snark lol

In episode 1, during their phone call, we hear how they usually speak to each other. The same formula as between Yi&Diao and Lian&Kuea applies: เฮีย /hia/ and เกื้อ /Kuea/ in both directions and Kuea also uses more polite speech, as he's the younger one.

อะไรครับเฮีย /a rai khap hia/ เกื้อไม่รู้ /Kuea mai ruu/

That all goes out the window when Yi interrupts Diao and Kuea's dinner get-together though 😂

แล้วมึงเป็นใคร /laaeo mueng bpen khrai/ มึงทำอะไรกับน้องเดียว /mueng tam a rai gap nong diao/

Yi has now used มึง /mueng/ (= you) with both the besties, except he was actually still amnesiac when he did so with Diao. Now though? He's just intentionally being a dick lol. So how does Kuea react? He keeps speaking politely! Even going more polite and distant in parts of the scene, like Diao does with the guards, he suddenly switches to ผม /pom/ (= I) here:

I wanna highlight one more thing though that was already a joke in Cutie Pie. During the flashback scene at the bar/club(?), Kuea says:

ไอ้เฮีย [...] /ai hia/

ไอ้ /ai/ is often used in front of names or animal names to curse someone out. And the funny thing about the word เฮีย /hia/ is that it sounds close to the swear word เหี้ย /hia/ (one such animal word, it technically refers to a type of lizard). So ไอ้เฮีย /ai hia/ is just one tone change away from the way worse insult ไอ้เหี้ย /ai hia/.

Likewise- I'm gonna assume everyone's aware that in Cutie Pie, Lian starts the show calling Kuea หนูเกื้อ /noo Kuea/ (which is more a cute way to address a child but also stems from Kuea being from an aristocratic family so staff for example calls Kuea คุณหนู /knun noo/ = young master) but at some point Lian changes to calling Kuea just หนู /noo/ (which technically means mouse but in this case as a 2nd person pronoun is basically a term of endearment).

Now, the same word can also be patronizing. So instead of implying 'You're cute and tiny like a mouse', it can also be belittling. Combine that again with ไอ้ /ai/ and...

มึงพูดอะไรของมึง ไอ้หนู /mueng phuut a rai kawng mueng. ai noo/

Bonus round: the doggo

คุณหมาน้อง /khun maa nong/ = "Miss doggie/little dog!"

พี่เดียวสงสารเฮียจังเลยน้อง /phi Diao song saan hia jang loei Nong/ (Yes, this cutie calls himself พี่(เดียว) /phi (Diao)/ when talking to Nong. พี่ /phi/ is a polite pronoun for someone older, similarly to เฮีย /hia/ but not gendered, that technically means older sibling.)

ไอ้ตาโปน [...] มึง /ai dtaa bpohn [...] mueng/ = "Bulging-Eyes" (+ rude informal 2nd person pronoun) ถ้าแกอยู่ที่นี่ คนเดียวไปไหนไม่ได้ไกล /thaa gae yoo thee nee, Kondiao bpai nai mai dai glai/ (แก /gae/ is also an informal 2nd person pronoun but a lot less rude)

In conclusion:

Yi is a clown, Diao is everyone's favorite, and Kuea would fistfight anyone for his bestie. Oh, and I guess poor Lian is entangled in this mess too lol (watch him say 'I told you so' once Yi and Diao realize communication is key)

[mappingthesky]

just talk (and i’ll stare at your mouth)

super fluffy mini blurb inspired by that dragcon moment

It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

Jane is several minutes too deep into defending herself and has the whole room in uproar. She’s sitting up straight with one long leg crossed over the other, relatively composed except for the bobbing of her head as she speaks and the mindless point of her finger as she directs her words around the room. Her hair is dark and tied up into one of those messy buns that Nymphia loves so much on her, long tendrils framing her face as she delivers another verbal lashing. Nymphia can’t look away from her, but, then again, no one can. Their friends are hanging on to her each and every word; their laughter echoes around the room, amplified with every add-on. Jane rolls her eyes, and Q is actually red in the face, and Morphine is about to fall out of her fucking chair, and Nymphia is stupidly, deliriously happy.

There was a time when this wasn’t so easy. When Nymphia would watch Jane rile up a room, watch her jaw clench and her temple pulse, and think that she needed to do something about it. A time when she was ready to throw herself between Jane and whatever unfortunate soul had found themselves so thoroughly embroiled in a feud with her, ready to jump to Jane’s defense no matter how undeserving. A time when Nymphia thought Jane needed saving. A time when Nymphia thought she had to prove it - that she’s on Jane’s side, wholly and completely, no matter how wrong she is.

Now, Nymphia watches from where she’s curled up against the armrest of the couch, Jane’s profile silhouetted against the soft glow of the living room light, and can’t help but beam, because loving Jane is so easy. With every stupid word that flies unfiltered from Jane’s lips, Nymphia laughs this hopelessly enamored, completely contented laugh - a hum against the roof of her mouth, high and happy. She looks over at Jane, her face actually hurting from smiling so big, and thinks I could do this forever, just sit and listen to you talk, no matter what you’re saying.

At some point mid-ramble Jane looks over for support, her hand absent-mindedly flying to squeeze Nymphia’s knee. It’s a reminder - for herself, or maybe for Nymphia, or maybe for the both of them - that they’re still in this together, and when her gaze lands on Nymphia, when she catches a glimpse of her looking back with this pure and unbridled adoration, Jane’s head darts back in a double take. All at once, her face splits into this glorious smile.

“What?” Jane questions with a playful tilt to her head, and her voice is softer, gentler somehow, so immediately removed from the rest of the world. Her eyes are widened and interested and still impossibly soft, because it’s Nymphia she’s looking at, and all at once they’re in their own private universe.

“Nothing,” Nymphia smiles, shakes her head, because she doesn’t want to interrupt this - Jane being Jane. “Go on.”

“No, what were you gonna say?” Jane says with a nod, makes space for Nymphia to speak into, even if it's just for her to hear. Her grin is stupid and boxy and Nymphia’s absolute favorite - Jane’s mouth held slightly open, tongue just behind her teeth, like she’s going to eat whatever Nymphia says next.

“You’re insane,” Nymphia says through giggles, because it’s all so unexpectedly sweet, and all her adoration bubbles up and out of her in beautiful, twinkling, head-tilted-back laughter, and Jane is completely entranced by all of it.

“Are you just now realizing this?” Jane says and flashes that smile, that completely fucked up smile where her canines glitter at the corner of her mouth, that shit-eating grin that Nymphia can’t get enough of. “Aw, babe.”

“You’re completely crazy,” Nymphia beams, smitten and sunshiney. “There’s no hope for you.”

“You love it,” Jane’s eyes flare and her grin widens somehow, and Nymphia can hardly stand to look at her when she’s staring back at her with this sort of intensity, when her eyes are lingering on Nymphia’s mouth and she just knows she’s thinking about kissing her.

“I love it,” Nymphia says with a bit of snarl, too excited about Jane to be anything resembling sane or subtle. “I love you.”

Jane’s eyes gleam with an obsessive sort of disbelief, one incisor sunk hungrily in her bottom lip. “You’re perfect,” she says. “I fucking love you. Come here.”

Nymphia is laughing, and Jane’s leaning in to positively devour her whole, and then, from somewhere behind them: “Get a fucking room!”

Jane draws back just enough to call over her shoulder, “See, Q, this is why no one likes you!” and elicits immediate uproar. The whole room dissolves into hollers and laughs and sputtering comebacks, and it’s the perfect distraction, giving them just a few more seconds to themselves.

“God, she’s so fucking annoying,” Jane rolls her eyes as she gravitates back to Nymphia, but her annoyance doesn’t reach her lips. She’s still smiling, still basking in their bubble, looking down at Nymphia as she dissolves into giggles once again and looks so enamored, so proud, because this is what she does it for - not to start fights, not to make a statement, but to keep Nymphia laughing at her.

“You’re so right,” Nymphia looks up at Jane, eyes fluttering. “Should we kill her?”

“Yes. You’re so hot when you’re murderous. Kiss me.”

And then Jane’s there, cupping Nymphia’s face with both hands, pressing her lips to hers in this head-spinning, all-consuming sort of kiss, does it again and again until they’re breathless and well-reminded that none of this matters - not the banter, not who started the fight or who is going to finish it, not Q’s voice already rising in the background, calling Jane’s name over and over again. All that matters is this - Jane drawing back from the kiss, eyes sparkling with deviousness and devotion, looking into Nymphia and saying so freely:

“Love you.”

“Love you too,” Nymphia smiles, tilting her head towards their company. “Go!”

“So,” Jane starts up again, leans in to kiss Nymphia one last time, pulls back to address the room with an undeterrable smile on her face. “No, yeah, as I was saying…”

Nymphia falls back against the arm of the couch, her cheeks flushed and her heart full. As she watches Jane now, Nymphia knows better. She knows that Jane doesn’t need saving, that neither of them do, because they’ve already been saved. They’ve already found each other. And when all of this is over, when they send their friends home and lock the door behind them, they'll give in to the sort of softness that only they know. That Jane will wrap herself around Nymphia, nuzzle into her chest and mumble some version of was that too much? And Nymphia will reassure her, even though she doesn’t have to, because she knows she’s already proven it - that she’s on Jane’s side when she’s right, but especially when she’s wrong. That Jane can stand her own, but she’ll never be standing alone. That they have each other, heart and soul, and that means it's all going to end up alright.