#/ sometimes i get the urge to make specific updates

[s4crificial-a]

me, with 18 threads. scratching my head like how did we get here.

speaking of how did we get here—did y'all know paramore dropped an album? that's it. that's the update. c:

#{ ooc } — it be yara. #/ sometimes i get the urge to make specific updates #/ but then they get to be 3 paras long #/ and i'm like... #/ who tf do i think i am LMAO #/ anyways tracker updated #/ i hope y'all are doing well #/ c:

[palioom]

not home

summary: joel comes home and finds you asleep.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; established relationship; somnophilia; dirty talk; fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; finger sucking; lowkey praise kink; no proofreading/beta lmao

IMPORTANT as tlou is made by a Zionist, as well as part 2 being based on the oppression of Palestine by Israel, I urge you to educate yourself in the light of the genocide happening in Palestine, specifically Gaza, right now. I cannot in good conscience post for Joel without bringing awareness to the horrific things that have been going on for 7 months.

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It was late when Joel came back.

Not home, just back. Home had been lost long ago, so long that he barely remembered it sometimes.

Funny how one could live in a place for so long and then it just faded away. He could remember some of the layout, but he swore that something was off about the way the living room looked in his mind.

No, this was just a shoddy apartment in the Boston QZ, with shitty hallways,creaking floorboards, paint peeling off the walls. Air howling through the tiny cracks, it was always cold somehow, but in summer too hot.

The door squeaked when he opened it and he really wanted to slam it shut behind him. Stupid thing would probably fly off the hinges if he did.

Try getting a door in the QZ.

He had more luck making one himself.

So he didn’t, opting to close it quietly instead, locking it behind him.

What a shitty fucking night this has been. Trying to smuggle shit out of the zone and then almost getting mauled by a bunch of clickers, adrenaline was still pumping through him along with anger.

Seething because he had lost a good amount of pills, some other good shit he could have traded for marks or cigarettes with the FEDRA officers.

Joel wanted to scream, throwing his backpack down onto the kitchen chair, then walking over to the cabinets. But he didn’t, instead pouring himself some of the shitty bourbon that they kept stashed away.

Sometimes he still wondered how she had managed to get this, looking over at her, peacefully sleeping in their bed.

If that’s what one could call it, a mattress propped up on some bricks, worn out pillows and ratty sheets.

Turned away from him on her stomach, the thin fabric of the blanket loosely draped over her legs, her ass only covered by her underwear.

Sometimes he wondered how she could sleep in so little, while he was always ready to go, ready to leave if anything happened.

Not that he minded, the sight was enough to make his dick twitch in his jeans, just watching her sleeping form, breathing in and out.

He knocked back another gulp, hissing at the weak sting.

Yeah, it was pretty shitty compared to the real thing, or whatever he remembered from it, but she had found a good bottle nonetheless.

The really good ones were hard to come by these days.

Just like people.

Fuck, she looked pretty like this, sprawled out over the whole bed because he wasn’t there, and he couldn’t even see her face.

Soft in her sleep, so rare in a world where softness did not survive for long.

Trying to be tough when awake, fooling everyone but him.

Joel knew her too well, some things he had never wanted to know, things about her past.

Things that made sense and intrigued him in a way, sometimes meaningless shit, like what shows she used to watch, what she had for dinner most days.

But it distracted him, as much as it annoyed him sometimes, it gave him a break from this fucked up world where all was about survival and nothing about just living.

So pretty.

Her body gave him a break as well, settling down the glass and the bottle, footsteps heavy as he walked over to their bed, knowing she wouldn’t wake up.

Could sleep through a damn tornado if she wanted to.

He took his boots off, the only thing she made him take off when he came to bed, insisting she would make him sleep on the sofa otherwise.

Anything but that, his back hurting just at the thought of that shitty, worn out thing.

Crawling into bed, he pressed himself close to her, chest against her back, heavy on top of her smaller frame.

Joel’s lips found her exposed shoulder, only wearing a ratty tank top, too hot in this little apartment. It was the only thing that kept her from sleeping most days, that unbearable heat.

His calloused fingers travelled over her arm, half under her pillow, then back up and over her side. Sliding between her body and the mattress, grabbing her breast, his hips grinding into her ass.

She sighed in her sleep, brows furrowing together for a moment, mumbling something.

Fuck, he needed her. Knew she wouldn’t mind, this was far from the first time where he came home all tense and tried to let go a little while buried inside of her.

“Fucking pretty, darlin’.” He whispered against her shoulder, his hand continuing down, finding the meat of her ass and kneading it, making her shift just a little.

She looked so sweet like this, her sleepy sounds adorable.

“Gonna see if you’re wet for me, baby.” He said, fingers pushing her underwear to the side and delving between her folds, finding her wet but not wet enough.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, gonna get you nice and ready for me.”

He moved back from her just long enough to pull down her underwear, throwing it somewhere behind him. Then, he was flush against her, his fingers coming up to her lips.

Pushing into her mouth, past her teeth, she took him in, actually sucking on them for a moment, making him groan.

He moved them in and out of her mouth, pressing down onto her tongue, massaging it.

“‘Atta girl, get them nice and wet, what a good girl.” He whispered, kissing her shoulder as he watched, his dick twitching and rock hard in his jeans as he rutted against her ass. “Doin’ so well.”

Joel didn’t know if she could hear him, but sometimes he was sure that she got wetter from how he talked even when she was fast asleep.

When they were wet enough, he pulled them from her mouth, leaving her lips slightly parted before he moved down, finding her clit.

Her hips jerked up into his dick when he touched her, rubbing a few lazy circles into it, spreading the wetness there before her found her entrance, carefully easing the two fingers inside.

A breathy sigh left her, brows furrowed again as she clenched around him, already pressing in and out of her at a steady pace, feeling more wetness coat him.

“Just like that, squeeze them nice and tight, gotta get you ready for me, sweetheart.”

Curling them, he pressed against the spongy spot inside of her, hearing the softest moan spill over her lips, stirring just a little.

Pumping in and out, scissoring his thick fingers to stretch her open, he soon pulled out again, getting desperate and just needing her around him.

He sucked his fingers clean before rolling away from her, opening his belt as quietly as he could, then the button and zipper of his jeans. Pushing them down just far enough to take his aching cock out, grunting when he was back on her, the tip of him pressed against her entrance.

Hand finding her leg, he angled her just a little differently, making it easier for him to push into her, groaning softly against her shoulder.

Feeling her tight, wet pussy pull him in deeper, all the way until he bottomed out, broad hand over her hip.

She opened her eyes now, just a little, trying to make sense of what was happening, sleep gripping her tight.

“Joel?” Voice hoarse, cracking as he stilled.

“Shh, sweetheart, go back to sleep.” He said, leaning over to kiss her cheek, watching her close her eyes again. “I’ll take care of you.”

She mumbled something, gone again, only whimpering quietly when he pulled back and sank into her again.

His hand found her breast again, squeezing and groping as he began to pound into her, slow at first, but gradually picking up speed as he lost his patience. Her sweet sounds fuelling him, whining more as he kept pinching and rolling her hard nipple, her hips weakly pushing back into him.

“Pretty girl, always giving me your little pussy. Always so good to me.” He rambled, biting her neck softly. “So good for me, fuck, sweetheart.”

So close, her body so warm and soft, her pussy squelching around him.

Sometimes he wondered if the neighbours could hear it through the open window. Her soft mewls, her sweet, wet pussy as he pounded into it.

They could definitely hear when he fucked her deep into the mattress, hear her scream his name until her voice broke.

He hoped they did, letting everyone know she was his, asleep or not.

Joel could feel her squeeze around him, his hand moving from her breast to her clit, pressing into it with rough movements.

Pushing her over, a sharp gasp and the way her walls pulsed around him, coating his cock with her slick letting him know. Eyes opening again, whining and screwing them shut at the sudden assault of pleasure, mind hazy and too damn tired.

“Sleep, baby. It’s alright.” He shushed her again, groaning, forehead against her shoulder. “Go back to sleep.”

“Joel-”

That did him in, the way she whined his name, needy and sleepy, emptying himself inside of her with a deep groan.

“Shit, darlin’. Always so good.”

Joel watched her face, drifting in and out of consciousness, sleep tugging at her and pulling her under.

“‘Atta girl, baby.” He kissed her cheek, wrapping his arm around her waist.

Not pulling out of her, he manoeuvred them on their sides, her back flush against his chest, his nose buried in her hair.

Just catching his breath and feeling her.

She could make any night better, her soft body letting him forget momentarily about just how badly that trip had gone.

But he was just glad to be home.

Not home.

But the closest thing he had to it now, in bed with her.

Buried inside her.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #wanda maximo #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedrostories #my writing

[celtic-crossbow]

These will be updated here and there. It’s likely that there’s some I won’t stick to when it comes to requests and even story ideas where they won’t fit.

He hates pickles. Anything that is green and smells that bad does not belong in the food section.  But he loves pickled pigs feet.

He likes sex but can easily live without it. 

He hasn’t been a virgin since his early teens (thanks to Merle and a handful of drug money)

It would take some serious, repeated encouragement and assurance (and a lot of time) before he’s comfortable having sex.

He is the type of guy that goes one step at a time, testing the waters. Making out, touching you, letting you touch him (slowly because his brain has been conditioned to flinch away). Everything would be through the clothes and then progress. Slow and steady wins the race.

He’s a switch. Sometimes, he wants all the say (so to speak) in the bedroom, watching you whimper and beg. Sometimes he just physically needs to give up control to balance the chaos. 

Rarely, when he’s extremely needy, he wants you to tell him he’s a “good boy” and praise him for how incredible he makes you feel. He’d never ask for it but when you call him that on accident, his reaction was quite telling.

He can easily go from gentle to rough. He would never want to hurt you. Squeezing your throat, slapping your ass, teasing your breasts, or leaving love marks with his teeth absolutely do not count as hurting you.

Consent is a huge deal to him.

He’s always been quiet during anything sexual; On the rare occasions he talks, it’s reassurances and quiet, gentle praise. Otherwise, grunts and whimpers and low growls are what you get until he’s about to orgasm.

However, sometimes he’s just so wound up, so needy for you, that he can’t help but moan loudly or call your name.

He always tells you he’s close to or has already started cumming. No real rhyme or reason. Maybe just his way of letting you know that you took him there.

He has a genuine dislike of cats. He doesn’t hate them by any means but if he had to pick an animal that was secretly plotting world domination, it’d be cats. 

He prefers boxer briefs. 

The only name brand clothing he ever owned was underwear because his junk deserves only the best. 

He’s superstitious, even if he pretends not to be. 

He doesn’t like giving his significant other pet names beyond “sunshine,” “pipsqueak”, or “woman.” Things that you find endearing regardless. On rare occasions, he’ll use “doll” or “darlin’.”

He secretly adores when you call him “baby” or “sweetheart.” Pretty much any endearment that labels him as yours.

He rarely (but it does happen) says “I love you.” He’s more of an actions guy and if you say it first, he’ll usually only say “me too” or rub his knuckles over your jaw.

He can’t sleep if his feet are hot. 

Spiders freak him out. 

He hates showers, not because he just doesn’t like them. Being in a space with scars on display makes him feel vulnerable. The water touching the scars forces him to relive when he received them.

Contrary to popular belief, he does keep specific areas of his body acceptably clean, using the bathroom sink or river/lake/creek when he’s in the forest.

The dirt and grime that coat his skin is a grounding reminder of who he is, so he doesn’t completely lose himself in that dystopian world.

He has never hunted for sport, only for survival. He respects nature and what it provides.

He loves to read. His favorite book is The Outsiders.

He doesn't/wouldn't understand why his girl can't talk to him instead of a stranger. He would need some mental health education as the urging of Carol or Michonne before even remotely understanding. He wants to be supportive, first and foremost.

He fights tooth and nail to avoid getting "his head shrunk" but in the end, if it meant not losing his girl, he'd give in.

He is a horrible patient for physical ailments and even worse for mental ones.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon headcanon #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon walking dead #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon twd #daryl humor #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you

[1eoness]

uhmmmm actor leon kennedy?? mayvbe

cw: dom! ooc leon kennedy x sub afab reader | no specific leon | he's kinda weird here idk | creampie | praise | mild degradation | wee bit of size kink idk

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni}

a/n bc i love rambling : so uhmmm when i was writing this there was an electric explosion right outside of our house so the power's out in our neighborhood and im back in this damn cafe LMAOOO

a/n : (update lol)i wrote this like monthssss ago (wtf this sucks).. so im back nd im gonna post this bc why the fuck not it's still rllyyyy bad and a lot of word repeating but yeah just felt like posting lol

synopsis : actor!leon kennedy has been in the gig too long to deal with nepotistic, wide-eyed girls like you. yet much to his exasperation, you're just too much of a greenhorn in the showbiz world.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -you can fucking skip this part idc- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

you've only ever heard his name maybe once or twice in one of the magazines in your mother's bar. you must've read it over and over again, having to see his name and face habitually to endure the excruciating hours of working behind the bar with your phone in a locker. you weren't particularly enthusiastic about films or Hollywood or WASP families, either. but it was better than nothing.

it started like this. you were wiping the cedarwood slab that dewed with beer, when the woman who sat across you (having drunk maybe 4 pints) reached over with her veiny, grisly hands. the acrylics tapped at your temples when she held your awkward face.

said "woman" was your aunt who just got back from monaco. and she's been urging you to work with Pierce. whoever that was.

you were well content with the life you had right now. but sometimes—often in front of your vanity— you did find yourself fantasizing about the 'big city'. you caught yourself in a cliche dream but the idea was invigorating, the mere machinations of those opportunities dangled above your eyes like meat on a stick.

"..oh, but.. i don't think it's practical, you know?" you excused as you dismissed the billowing thoughts in your head. even if you had the physical assets that aligned with the director's vision, it would still feel wrong. some people go to literal schools for this stuff, don't they?

but she remained persistent. and after a low, lighthearted sigh, she continued her persuasion. "..y/n, you're a diamond in the rough." your aunt neared you, holding your hands together in a friendly hold. "..let me make it a reality for you."

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

so. were you a natural? hell no.

you're wearing a costume that you can't even touch without the stylists getting mad at you. you got harped on and poked at for so long you were starting to get a migraine. the studio refused to let up on you, jabbing at you passive aggressively until you curled like a millipede. honestly, you were more pissed than sad!

and leon? god, he was a total fucking hottie. and he was totally cold.

the director announced an hour break to everyone just before they'd jump straight to the next scene. you remained sat on one of the props, hands clasped on your lap, contemplating the choices you've made over for the 7th time today. you were fidgeting like you were anxious. you forgot how breaks felt. the luxury was there, five star hotels, velvet cushions and robes and office gossip and dinners with imported wine and cheese. but it felt like hell. working with leon was the only thing that made it even ten percent worth everything, but even he doesn't seem to like you. why was everyone so mean? fucking fair enough, you were beginning to hate this place so much you might ask for a cigarette yourself.

the petrichor mellowed through the film set, nibbling her skin with chill. nights in raccoon are cold, you needed to keep mind of that in case you decide to open your front door without a jacket. the alleyways were diffused by vapor lighting and LED signs. you also had another superficial thought. what do people on set usually do when they're on break?

you whip your head up, legs swinging slightly as you scanned the area. most of them are either adjusting equipment, going through script, or smoking one. you turned your head to your right without expecting much.

you saw leon leaning against the wall, next to the director, sharing smoke (you're beginning to see this is a trend) and cheap laughs. you were mildly surprised, not realizing they were both adjacent behind you, and you felt goosebumps rise when your eyes landed on leon. you quickly looked forward again. you didn't want to move away.

you missed leon's subtle smirk to himself when his gaze flicked to the crown of your hair. he took a puff of his stick, still sounding like he was talking to the man beside him. his eyes didn't leave you and the way you sat there like you were going to spend the remainder of your break spacing out.

leon's voice was nonchalant behind you. to you, it was faint chatter. "...life will chew you up and spit you back out before too long, but that's..."

...

was he talking to you?

leon wasn't too nice on you while you guys were on set, but he wasn't so directly mean either—emphasis on directly.

he's earned word of you from both your aunt and the director, obviously. he doesn't look like the type, but sometimes he has a knack for gossip. that's just how the nature of stardom works, doesn't it? name number #1 did this that tto name number #2, someone divorced someone, someone slept with someone—and the whole world goes aflame. he could care less about where you came from, why you're really here or who you were connected to. but something about you was thought-provoking. contrasting you, he worked for where he was. you just sat there looking pretty and snagged the role right away. maybe that sort of incompetency and oblivious audacity made you stand out from the rest. he found it pathetically attractive. you're an artless girl.

your head swiveled over your shoulder, looking behind and up at leon.

leon's eyes met your gaze halfway. "aww. is this your first big time acting gig, baby? no need to be nervous, it'll be alright." a tinge of mockery sweetened the husk of his voice. the director, who you now know is 'pierce', snickered at leon's subtle sarcasm.

the director tells him he's going to announce everyone to continue, since he wanted the rain to 'sex things up'. heaven's dew tapped lightly on the concrete as the director mounted his back off the vandalized walls, leaving you and leon alone in the same space. oh god.

for a minute you sat there quietly, letting the tension sink in upon the director leaving. you tentatively take another glance at leon. he wasn't looking at you anymore, and his hands were out his pockets as he swipes the little box open. soft brown tufts wisped when he shook his head to get the rain off his hair.

you got off the table. you walked to leon. you'd say your feet were moving on its own.

his head shifts to your direction. his bangs falling over his face. a gust of wind breezes by, and he smells deep, musky. like cardamom. cedarwood.

" if anyone's givin' you trouble on set..." leon looks down as he slips a cigarette in his mouth, rummaging in his pocket for his lighter. "you come to leon... 'kay?"

his hush voice was honeyed whiskey when it wooed at you, applying simple emphasis to his two-syllable name. leon, leon, how that name would sound in bed. there's a slight tease to his eyes, before diverting his attention to his cigarette, casting an orange glow in his palms when he flicks the lighter on with his thumb. his presence was prodding, inviting you with every inch of his body language. this man was blazing and you were a fucking moth.

he likes the way you're looking at him right now. your eyes are batting at every subtle sculpt of him. you can look away but he knows you're still thinking about him.

such a sweet thing, this one.

he decides to be 'friendlier', pitying the fact that you're obviously having a hard time socializing with the crew. "what's your favorite movie, doll?"

"mm.. i liked kill bill. and pulp fiction." you converse casually.

a name rolls off his tongue. "quentin tarantino." he nodded in what seemed like approval, watching a puddle.

you blink. "what?"

he glances at you and he doesn't reply, before leaving that wall all to yourself.

...

leon's tongue trickles with the taste of vouvray. you were art in the shadows, the honey lighting of the dimmed lamp doing nothing to illuminate leon's hotel room. your lips are glossed with his saliva, evidence of your breath went after he made out with you.

you're barely holding it, all while his big hands purchased at your flesh, drinking in the way you straddled his boner. the subtle friction where you were able to feel how big he really is intimidated you, blooming excited butterflies, your stomach fluttering at each soft push of your hips. you watched with your palms flat on his stomach, the soaked fabric of your panties collecting and staining all over his boxers as you stifled a needy whimper. "y'need it now, baby? oh, don't go soft on me now... i'll take care of you, just tell me."

his pretty baby, sitting on him and too shy to plead from the big shot. leon's hands languidly travel your skin, palms massaging up your sides. "...i-i wan' it.. i want you.. please.." you murmured hazily, leaning down to give him a soft kiss to compensate for the bashfulness that rode over your speech.

"is that right, sweetheart?" he bit his lip gently at the teasing sight, loving the way you sounded needier by the minute. "oh, baby, go on. it's all yours, yeah?.." he crooned, patting your thigh gently.

"easy, baby.. oh, there you go.. atta girl.." he groans prettily when he's muttering you through it, eyes delectably gazing at the way you sink on his length. it was cute to him seeing you not knowing what to do with your hands. but he watches you settle them on his built torso, and he could only look at you in adoration. god, he was so fucking thick and you were so highly strung..

leon's touch stroke at your knees. you aren't moving, and he looks almost amused seeing you try to render just how he feels inside you. "i can't.." he heard you murmur before you giggled quietly, to which made him chuckle as well. but the flustered laughter dies down. the actor groans, feeling your fluttering grip around his cock, making it his instinct to hold onto your waist.

it didn't take long before you started getting loud. your arousal lathered up and everytime you pump down a creamy squelch. "mhmmm... uhh, keep going.." leon whispers, and his eyes stared at where your bodies met. you could hear a soft whimper from him—vocally begging your sweet little self to go faster.

leon watches you trying to change the speed. poor girl, you looked like you were already starting to ragdoll. you resisted stopping, unable to with the way he'd rub into the right spots. leon took your small, depleted whine as a sign for him to initiate. he was just letting you have your fun. just until you'd get a bit frustrated. by this time he'd already lit another cigarette and the stick perches between his lips.

"..tiring, ain't it, sweetheart?" leon coos, feigning pity for you, fingers clutched at your hips like its his favorite thing to hold. he started to thrust up into your sopping little cunt, pulling a weak mewl out of you. there might be nothing he loves more than watching your supple frame as it bounces atop him.

"mmm.. aww 's okay, baby.. leon's got you.. mhm, that's right." he responds to every quaint sob you make. his stamina was stubborn as he gradually shifted his pace.

"nice and quiet, baby... don't want th't fucker 'pierce hearin' you..." leon almost feels like a sick fuck, pretty lips grinning slightly as he moans. "god, fuuuuck... mmmhh... uh- f-fuck!" leon almost whines before giving you a harsh thrust, as if he were desperately trying to make you his cocksleeve. if you were going to take it so well then you shouldn't be surprised at how he's gonna force you down, and keep you in place while he sluts you out.

you're murmuring something, and the words fall like blabber to his ears.

leon smiles endearingly, as if he isn't fucking you stupid right now. "mhhh.. wanna cum? you wanna cum?" leon asks as he tries to make sense of what you're saying.

and you gulp, gasping through your watering voice. "w-wanna cumm.. give it t'me-"

he tries not to laugh.

"c'mon, let me make you cum... i'll make it feel good.." leon murmurs before you could feel him pound into you, a whine dripping like syrup from your voice. your body barely keeps up. you feel tight and it's making leon's head tilt back a bit. "oh, there you go, sweetheart... atta girl.." he mumbles hazily as his mind starts to get messy.

"like that? uhuh? mmmh?~" leon moans back almost mockingly at each pleasured whine that spilled your voice. you're mindlessly pawing at whatever you can reach on leon, turning him on with your helplessness. "takin' me nice and well-..." he growls as he starts to piston up into your cunt brutally. you look cuter when you're stuffed with leon's thickness, when you're crying on what you begged for.

"leon, c-cumming" you lolled out in a low moan, head leaning slightly. "i'm gonna cum.."

he responds with a groan, hips rocking upward as he feels you clenching around him. "go on, baby, give it to me. 'm right here,"

he has you shuddering when you cum, the vibrating sensation jolting to your brain as it reeled in pleasure. it takes a few shallow thrusts to keep you satisfied but it's hard to tell when you're already sniffling and twitching on top of him. you wipe your face as you draw a few breaths. leon reaches to warmly take your wrist, thumb pressing onto your skin, feeling your heartbeat.

he watches you gather your bearings before generously caressing your hair once. you help yourself off leon's shaft and a heavy-sounding breathe escapes him in wonder.

leon whispers something once he leans into you and chucks his half-dead cigarette into the ashtray. "c'mere.." his one arm tucked around your back and eventually the other to your leg as he makes you lie down. he treats you with some sort of delicacy, at least until he doesn't.

leon tugs you closer with his arm hooked loosely under your knee, pulling your princess body in for a few intimate kisses to calm the both of you. he tastes mildly bitter. you hummed in his mouth when your lips lock together, eyes fluttering while you felt weak. leon starts muttering as he asks if anything hurts, if you're okay, if you're gonna stay here for the night. for a moment he doesn't say anything and he's just gazing down at you languorously while he breathes. he kisses one of your eyelids before he shifts.

maybe leon liked you better like this, on your fours, limping against the satin bedding as you cried and panted in a way that seemed like suffocation. his thick fingers tug at your hair once, your only teary view being the couch and the TV that dimly mirrored a reflection of you being held down be leon as he rammed into your dribbling hole tenderly. your legs occasionally kicking up against him, hitting him with your ankles as you found it hard to not writhe. he watches you peek over your shoulder, the expression in your eyes instigating struggle. "what?" leon tugs at your hair again, fighting the toothy smile from his face as he fucked you brainless. "didn't think i could make a whore out of you?"

leon lets go of your hair to rut into you with urgency. the bed was starting to jut out small squeaks from leon's rhythm. he leans closer, chewing on his lip as his eyes narrowed in pleasure. a soft growl emanates from behind you, skin on skin, breathing near your ear. the rough hands that were once planted near yours on the mattress start to grip your forearms like handles. he watches your back contort.

you jolt up as leon yielded you to his body, impaling you with his girth in a routinely fashion, urging you to cry louder. "oh, baby.." he whimpers lowly as he starts to feel himself lose control again.

"fuck, i can't.." you wail out, head hanging low briefly. he notices.

"ready to pass out, honey?" he pants softly.

you weakly shook your head.

"good girl." leon bit his bottom lip, whispering out a needy 'fuck' as he slammed into you while pulling you back. he felt satisfied by the way you yelped. his brows furrow, expression tainted with a lustful and crude color as he almost began to drool. brown strands started to get in the way of his vision. his breath is suddenly hitched, water lining his eyes as his voice turned up a note. he hisses, head tilting to the side. "fuck, fuck,-" his gruff words start to match with his thrusts. "take it- all-, yes, baby, that's a good- fucking- mnnnghh..."

it takes leon a while to recover, moaning lowly and riding his orgasm, watching you spasm beneath him while he spills inside you without much restraint. he tiredly fucks his load in you before he gives out and huffs a spent whine. he catches a glimpse of it. you're leaking white.

you're breathless, fatigued, sweating, and almost thoughtless as you catch some oxygen back in your lungs. you could feel yourself pulsating around his twitching shaft as waves of pleasure traveled your burning body. his arms loosen of their sensual hold before they catch you, pulling your weary form down to spoon with you momentarily. you can feel each other inhaling. exhaling.

a phone rang. it wasn't yours, you could tell by the ringtone. your eyes flit to see pierce's name on a default iphone screen. "i need a drink." leon exhales roughly, leaning over to kiss the shell of your ear before he reached for the bedside table to grab for his phone. he slipped out of the sheets with his phone on his ear.

#leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #this is so bad kms

[jaesqueso]

Sit down (m)

pairing: co-worker!taeyong x female office manager!reader (briefly featuring co-workers taeil, johnny and jaehyun)

summary: sometimes a women in power just wants to be played around like a toy

word count: 1,942

warnings: uses of ‘master’ and some degrading terms, oral sex, unprotected sex, cream pie

a/n: little page anniversary present to you all, thank you for all the support through these 2 years, I hope ya’ll enjoy it ❤

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

"Who was responsible for this?" You ask in a stern voice.

"That would be my team." Taeil says bowing his head in apology.

"Bring them in." You order. “Now."

Quickly the man leaves your office coming back followed by three other. You look at them recognising each one. Johnny Suh. Jung Jaehyun. And Lee Taeyong.

"I'm not gonna bother asking who's fault is this but you have one hour to get this sorted." All four of them bow and are about to leave the room until you interrupt. "Here. I want to see you fix this mess. Sit down.”

In a blink of an eye everybody takes a seat and gets down to work. With a sigh you walk around your desk and sit on your chair. 

"Ahreum," you call into your speaker, "move my 3 o'clock to 4 and re-schedule me 4:30 for tomorrow.”

With a positive response you lean back, watching all man concentrated on their laptops, tension filling the air. You've been an office manager for a long time in this company and that has built up the respect you surely deserve. Some may call you mean or even a bitch, but you just like things done properly on a timely fashion and when that doesn't happen, well you need to take proper measures.

At ten minutes to the deadline you ask for an update and team leader Moon Taeil ensures you they're almost finished, but you don't take it for granted until you see it.

"All done." He finally announces and all eyes focus on you.

"Copy me in on the apology email to the client." You order as he rapidly types on the keyboard.

"In behalf of the team we apologise." They all stand up and bow.

"Just make sure this doesn't happen again, Moon." You warn and they leave.

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a sigh you go on with the rest of the day, a boring meeting where you pretend to be the nicest person in the world to score the deal, answering some emails and before you know it it's already past your time to go.

After packing your things, you put away your work phone and grab your personal when, smiling when you see a specific text.

Master: we still on for tonight?

You: yup. 8pm. My place.

Leaving the already empty office you rush home to make some food and get ready for the night.

Checking the clock, your leg shakes in anticipation as you wait on your couch. At 8 sharp the door bell rings and you jump up, almost running to answer.

"Hi, taeyong." Your greeting sounds relieved and he smirks. "Come in.”

Taking off his shoes and jacket, he walks into the living room like he owns the place.

You take one last look in the mirror, making sure you look good before you turn to him, awaiting his call.

"Come here." He nods his head and you take a step forward before he stops you. "Not like that.”

Understanding exactly what he means, you get down on all fours, crawling your way to him. At his feet, you kneel but keep your head down, knowing not to look him in the eye without permission.

"Good girl." He pats your head making your insides tingle. "Look at me.”

Instantly you glance up, almost melting at the way he looks at you, like he can't wait to ruin you.

"Are you gonna behave today?" Eagerly you nod making him chuckle. "Show me.”

Lifting your hands, you slowly undo his belt, then unbutton his slacks and slide the zipper down. Still making eye contact with him, you push his pants to the floor followed by his underwear, resisting the urge to look at his half hard cock inches away from your face. Your hand moves up his thigh to grab it and blindly align it with your mouth.

"I think you can do better than that." He challenges as he steps out of his pants. "No hands.”

Dropping your arms to your sides, you open your mouth and try to find his cock while your eyes are still on his.

"You're such a pathetic little whore." He mocks you as he takes of his shirt, leaving him completely naked. "but pathetic little whores always get what they want, don't they?”

You struggle to nod as you get more of his dick inside your mouth. Once you get to the base, you feel your eyes water and you move your head back starting to feel a gag reflex, but Taeyong has other plans. His hand falls to the back of your head pushing it back to him. Struggling, you focus on breathing through your nose until he finally let's you go.

"That's it. Good girl." He praises with a smirk, wiping a tear that was rolling down your cheek. "Now show me you can keep it up.”

Your hair is bunched up on a pony before you're forced back on his length. But this time you were ready and move back and forth, hollowing your cheeks as you suck him. He hisses and you take it as an incentive, adding your tongue to the mix, knowing damn well it drives him crazy.

"You're pulling all the tricks today, aren't you?" He says through clenched teeth as his cock grows into your throat.

Moaning with your mouth full, you can already feel your panties sticking to your wet pussy. A lot of women don't particularly enjoy giving head but to you it's a freaking pleasure, specially when you're being roughly guided into it.

"Ok, that's enough." You gasp as Taeyong pulls your head away, strings of your saliva and his pre-cum keeping you connected. "Get up.”

With his hand still gripping your hair, you pull yourself up, standing right in front of him.

"Look at you. So nasty." He comments, spreading the mess around your mouth with his thumb. "Who's my dirty little whore?”

"I am." Your voice is small and you can feel your throat getting sore already.

"Yes, you are." Leaning forward, he gives you a sloppy kiss, tasting himself on your mouth. "Come with me.”

Following him to the couch, you patiently wait for his next instructions, pretty aware of the mess between your legs pushing through the pink lace underwear you decided to wear tonight.

"Sit down." He orders and you don't waste another second. "Open up, I'm hungry now.”

Taeyong watches your legs part as wide as you possibly can, smirking at your arousal.

"Look at that, I haven't even touched you." A small whine leaves your mouth, desperate for his touch. "Maybe I should teach you a lesson on being patient.”

"Please..." The word leaves your lips before you can even think and he chuckles.

"But since you said ‘please…'" He mocks your tone getting down on his knees in front of you.

His tongue rolls out and takes a long lick over the wet lace, making your head fall back with a shaky sigh. He starts eating you out over the fabric, the friction adding to the pleasure. Slowly his hands making their way up your thighs, through your sides until they cup your breast that are still covered with a matching lace bra. His fingers tease your already hard nipples about to poke through and you can't help moan at the added feeling.

Gripping the pillows on the couch, you crave for his direct touch, without the lingerie set in the way, but you wouldn't dare ask for it, when you started your little arrangement you both agreed he could do anything he wanted and you just had to obey and endure. When you put it like that it may seem like an unfair deal for you, but being used so carelessly is what really gets you hot.

The orgasm builds up rapidly inside, you don't know how Taeyong always manages to get you to cum so quickly and with so little, but maybe the reverse roles outside the office plays a part on it. Soon you feel it taking over you, your back arching of the couch as you moan his name out loud.

"I thought you were going to behave." His head comes up between your legs, his tongue licking his lips. "Who told you you could cum?”

"I'm sorry..." You whisper, still breathless as you come down your high.

"Oh, you will be." Standing back up he admires your body. "Cause I'm about to wreck you.”

You yelp when he suddenly grabs your hips pulling you forward and up. Your head now rests on the seat as the rest of your body is upside down, ass resting against his crotch.

"Let's get this out of the way." He fully rips your underwear out of your body. “Oops..."

The way he stares down to your fully exposed core tells you he's not even sorry he ruined one of the most expensive lingerie sets on your closet. Giving a few pumps on his still hard dick, he lays it right between your folds, moving his hips back and forward to create friction against your pussy.

"You're going to take my cock like a good girl?" You nod as you can, biting your lip. "Let's see about that.”

His length easily slips into your wet hole, the strange angle making you feel like never before. Taeyong starts moving in and out of you, quickly picking up a good pace that turns you into a moaning mess.

"Look at this. " Glancing up you can't believe your eyes when you see his bulge through your stomach. "I'm fucking you so deep you can see it.”

You don't know why the scene turned you on so much but you can already feel your second orgasm approach. And apparently, so can he.

"Don't you dare cum before I say so." He warns, fucking you harder and faster.

"Please..." You plea, desperate for release.

"As much as I love to see you beg, you’re going to have to hold on just a bit longer.” As he bites his lip you can tell he’s close too. “Master needs his release first.”

Clenching your walls you hope to speed up the process, because you know you really won’t be able to hold it much longer.

“You nasty little slut.” Taeyong hisses. “You want my cum?”

“Yes, please!” You almost yell in despair.

“Oh yeah?” You can feel his thrusts getting sloppy. ”I’m gonna fill you up so good. And you’re going to take it all.”

“Give it to me master, please!” You mumble between moans.

“You want it that bad?” He groans with a smirking. “Here it comes.”

Strings of hot cum paint your insides, his pace slowing but not stopping.

“Go on, your time now.”

With a warm feeling inside you let your self go, body trembling in pleasure as he gives a few final thrust before halting his moves still buried inside you. If he wasn’t still holding your hips in place, you’re sure your body would’ve fallen, half on the couch, half on the floor.

“Look at this.” Taeyong slowly gets his dick out of you, watching your hole clench around nothing, full of his cum. “So beautiful.”

As your breathing gets back to normal you start to feel the pain in your back from the awkward position you’re still in. When you moan, in pain this time, he understands and carefully positions your body back down on the couch.

“Was that good?” He asks, sitting down next to you.

“Don’t be so needy, Taeyong.” You scoff, getting up. “Order us some food, I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

taglist: @yokshi-unbeliebubble​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nc-teen​​ ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @yutahoes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @dimplehyunn​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @iknowyuno​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @bebskyy​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @ne0cultur3technology​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nurenciye​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @luvjeongjaehyun​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @nohyuckieduckie​​​​​​​ @booyouwhore17​​​​​​ @jenoxygen​​​​​​  @jaehyunsprincess​​​

unable to tag: @chenleyang @doahflix @criminalmindsz

#neohub #taeyong smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut

[tangledinredstring]

I struggle to get my head around the religious lore of Fantasy High, sometimes - I suspect I haven't studied the correct subjects at school, but I do my best! But I will put some of my thoughts here, to see if pinning them to the conspiracy board helps me connect the dots.

So, I had this thought during the last episode, and I've seen it mentioned in other people's posts, but it was a bit strange that the dead rage god could be named in the circle, but Cassandra's name had been updated to be Cassandra, even though that definitely was not her name at the time. And there's a couple of explanations, that might be at play here, or a combination of the two.

The first is that Adaine was translating from a Proto-Sylvan language, so it wasn't like she was reading the English/Common words where it said "Susan/Cassandra". My thought it was more like she saw the rune meaning the combined concept of Mystery/Night and understood that to mean the god she knows as Cassandra.

The other explanation that came to me is that although the end result was the same, and possibly the cause leading up to it, what actually happened to the two of them is not the same, or at least I don't think so.

As I understand it, Ankarna died due to a lack of worshippers. That doesn't necessarily mean that it was done maliciously, although the fact that this appears to be the only written record of the name, especially since they are part of a pantheon of gods that are still worshipped, certainly points to someone going through after the fact and removing the name from history books and religious texts does point to that. There is a difference between knowing the god exists and believing in that god, but if no-one cared, the name would have been left in documents as part of the Giant pantheon, and there would be a possibility of worship if someone (like Fig) felt that actually, a god of summer and rage did fit their personal beliefs. But that was removed as a possibility, by parties unknown, so that they would be completely forgotten.

What happened to Cassandra was different, in that immediately prior to the Nightmare King incident she did have worshippers. They had been swayed by the church of Gallicaea into believing they needed to ritually destroy her previous name, but they did exist, so she didn't just fade out of existence like Ankarna. And it was the ritual that makes the difference here; before her followers could ritually destroy the name, she ritually changed it to the Nightmare Kings crown to save herself. Since big ritual magic was involved, and again when she came back to being Cassandra, I don't think it would be out of the question that reality could just be remade to reflect the new names.

TL:DR - I think too much about this.

I had one last thought, only tangentially related. I've seen people saying they feel like Porter is urging Fig to worship Ankarna specifically; because he is Genasi, and because he has some religious backing as a paladin, and with his feelings about rage, it makes sense that he is a follower of this god. But - perhaps I have read Small Gods too many times - that just doesn't make sense to me. If Ankarna had even one believer, let alone if he worships because his ancestors did, Ankarna would not be dead.

#fantasy high #fantasy high spoilers #thoughts from the shower #dimension 20

[zabiume]

sorry if this is any way discouraging… not exactly the word im going … offending? jdjdjdjd I just wanted to say hearing when you say that a fic like the ichiishihime one it took a lot of time and how you wrote it slowly! like it was… very inspiring to see to me. because fjjfjf writing is v difficult and i always get frustrated when I write slow and i keep hitting blocks (honestly most of the time it’s not even blocks but more like it’s those fics that just a bit of marinating in between of working on it) but seeing how much your writing is so good and how much I really really love it. It making me more appreciate of writing slow, despite how much I want to get the end and get frustrated when there’s no progress for months or ahaha a year and more. it doesn’t feel like im alone in it and like — I love your writing so much and it makes me wonder, why can’t I love and take pride in my own too in all its slowness. as the craft of writing is like that sometimes

JDJDJJD I DO NOT IF I GOT THSI ACROSS WELL… but just! wanted to thank you! your writing inspires a lot in me with how you write bleach characters and everything. just! thank you 🥺💞

this was not offensive at ALL, don't worry! rather, i'm very touched you said this because if this is the message my writing process is sending then i am very, very happy about that!

i'm not sure if you can relate to this, specifically, but i think for a lot of working/studying people, we're very used to having deadlines and having to be "on" all the time that maybe some of it seeps into our attitude regarding our hobbies as well. i don't mean this in a kids-these-days way, but we are also in a culture of fast consumption lately with streaming and binging, where it seems unnatural to spend YEARS with a series — even though that was a pretty normal thing to do only a few years ago😅 the urgency of that kind of gives the impression that you have a limited window of time to stay "relevant" before people stop being interested in your work and move onto something else!

BUT. the thing about fandoms is that they are alive forever. even if everyone else has moved on, there's always going to be at least one rando on the internet writing fic and one japanese artist on twitter still dropping renaissance level masterpieces. which is all to say....the pressure to write fast is the devil talking and we must NEVER listen to it!!! there is no deadline and even if you feel like there is, there are going to be days where you have IRL commitments that keep you busy. and sometimes you might have an entire afternoon off but still be unable to come up with a single word. my creativity has always arrived in random streaks and if i'm free, i try my best to take advantage of it and put it all on a doc. if i'm not feeling creatively inspired, i don't write at all, i just do something else that i enjoy doing.

believe it or not, when i was writing A Combination of Factors, there were WEEKS where i only wrote 2-3 sentences a day. yeah, that's slow, but i still put it out eventually, right? the chadhime training scene in Therein Lies the Heart was actually something spinning in my head since 2019 (when i got back into the bleach fandom again) but i only managed to work it into a story earlier this year.

the reason i'm giving these examples is because sometimes it's good to sit on an idea for a while, even if the urge to share a good thing instantly is definitely understandable! more often than not, you'll get more good ideas you can add to the story and build it in a better, satisfying way. i know this from experience because there are a lot of stories that i was so excited to share that i jumped the gun and then later thought, "damn, i still had more left in me." not that i regret it because i go in, add it anyway and then update the author's notes in case any re-readers get confused by the extra content that definitely wasn't here last time :D my policy on that is: it's fanfic, who cares, i make the rules. it also helps to have more than one WIP so you can always have something else to work on if you feel like writing but this one particular story is giving you trouble.

anyway, i love the part where you mentioned taking pride in your own work because i think you definitely should! even if no one loves your fic but you, you still deserve to pat yourself on the back because ONE WHOLE PERSON enjoyed your story! the important thing, as i always say, is to be deeply involved and self-indulgent with it! 💖

#this is very kind thanks for taking the time to send it :') i hope you find yourself creatively inspired whenever you want to be #and that you write things that make you happy – no matter how long it takes! #be slow at it be bad at it be cringe etc etc. you make the rules and you get to break them! #idk why this got so long but thanks again💖 have a lovely week💖 #asks

[vulpecular-draconic]

introduction

[ edit on march 26, 2024: i have a new intro post, here ]

howdy! this is my side blog where i'll ramble about my experiences being nonhuman. i don't feel comfortable linking my main blog yet, but i may sometime in the future. on this blog, you can call me vuldra. i'm genderfluid and i'll update my pronouns whenever they change.

i am a psychological therian – for me, i feel like a critter due to being neurodivergent. i tend to have pretty strong phantom limbs, and about average species dysphoria (although i don't believe those are necessary to be therian/otherkin). i awakened in the summer of 2023. i've figured out a lot since then, but i'm still learning about myself, and i'll update/rephrase this post every once in a while.

theriotypes:

– red fox [vulpes vulpes]; specifically, the pearl fox color morph

– bat-eared fox [otocyon megalotis]

fox shifts usually consist urges to bite things/ppl, roll on the floor, wag my tail, curl up in a little ball, run on all fours, or growl. i can tell the difference between fox species by which body shape most matches my phantom limbs, which coat color feels more like me at the moment, and which habitat i’d feel most comfortable in. most of the times i get fox shifts, i feel like an anthropomorphic fox. not quite like the way most modern furries are drawn – more along the lines of how an anthro fox in an old storybook would be drawn. i like having anthro shifts better, because it's less dysphoric than when i'm an all-fours fox.

i consider foxes to be my main types, so i’ll refer to myself as a fox more often than my other kintypes.

otherkin types:

– pocket dragon; i'm only about six or seven inches long from head to tail, with layered armor-ish blue scales. my mouth is slightly beak-ish and is sharp, with no teeth. my tail has a feather-like fan on the end, although it's made of scales. when i get pocket dragon shifts, i feel the urge to scurry up trees, talk less, and eat berries and beetles.

– bird person(??); i'm not sure if i want to count this as an official kin or if it's just a cameo shift i've had strongly several times. when this happens, i get feathery phantom wings and a long tail with a fan at the end, similar to my pocket dragon tail, but feathered instead of scaled. occasionally i also get digitigrade legs. other than that, i feel pretty much human.

– antlers; sometimes i just feel phantom antlers. i don't connect with deer/other irl antlered creatures at all, so i'm not sure what this is about. sometimes the antlers are by themself, and sometimes they co-occur with other stuff.

– cryptids; sometimes shifts mix-and-mash into creatures that i call cryptids. cryptid shifts aren't always the same from one shift to another, and sometimes include cameo shift elements. i've had cryptid shifts where i'm an anthro pearl fox with feathered wings and antlers, and i've had cryptid shifts where i'm humanoid with spines and a fan-tipped tail, shrouded in a shadowy energy. while i call most of my mashups a cryptid shift, some don't have the vibe, if that makes sense.

that pretty much covers it, i think. welcome to my blog!

#therian #otherkin #alterhuman #nonhuman #fox theriotype #foxkin #fox therian #pearl fox theriotype #pearl fox therian #pearl foxkin #dragonkin #dragon otherkin #pocket dragonkin #canine theriotype #canine therian #caninekin #bat-eared fox theriotype #bat-eared fox therian #bat-eared foxkin #cryptidkin #dragon kintype #cryptid kintype #aviankin #sorta?? #intro post #last edited: march 1st 2024 #<- well. not anymore #i say some stuff

[merlyn-bane]

Fic / Art Masterlist

Figured it was finally time to give in and make one of these. Links will all be under the cut with pared down summaries to prevent this thing from being a monster on people's dash. Probably just going to leave them in the order they were posted just to make it easier to update as I go.

Singles:

Traveling Song - Din Djarin/OC, fic Din Djarin gets to know his sometimes-ally a little better, and ends up a lot over his head. Jedi Lineage Shenanigan Collection - fic A collection of mostly unrelated and out of order one or two-shots revolving around Jedi, their families, and the nonsense they all get up to. Foelu - Obi-Wan/Cody/Waxer/Boil/Rex/Helix, fic As the only one of his kind in the Order and perhaps only the third in its history, almost all of what they know about Obi-Wan's people is limited what they've been able to observe as he's grown up. When his implant expires and wartime shortages make it impossible to get their hands on a replacement, Obi-Wan learns about something else his body can do--for better or worse.

Series:

Order 63 (2022) - Codywan

Monday - Middle Earth AU, art & fic Obi-Wan forgets about certain cultural traditions when she returns to the Shire with Cody after three years at war. She Plays Bass - Band AU, art & fic Up-and-coming rockstar Cody Fett is touring with well-established Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time, and may have developed an extraordinarily predictable crush--much to the amusement of her bandmate, Fox. When the tour's booking agent messes up their hotel reservations, it leaves Cody in something of an interesting predicament--and in much closer quarters with Obi-Wan than intended. Wednesday - Star Trek AU, art Captain Obi-Wan Kenobi and her First Officer, Commander Cody, stumble upon strange flora on an away mission. This is nothing new, and neither is Obi-Wan's ill-advised urge to touch it. Cody fondly wonders if perhaps her Captain was not promoted to command simply to distance her from the scientific field where she started. Thursday - Sports / Roller Derby AU, art What's a little friendly competition between girlfriends, anyway? Friday - No O66 / Jedi!Cody AU A warm, cozy morning in the Jedi Temple, and a playful battle for the shared kettle.

Thank God You Introduced Me To Your Sister - RexObi

Thank God You Introduced Me To Your Sister - Sapphic Modern AU, fic Rex is feeling underappreciated in her relationship with her best-friends-with-benefits. Good thing his very attractive older sister's back in town on break from school, huh? Thank God For You - Sapphic AU, fic It's Rex's turn to take care of Obi-Wan.

SubObi Week (2022) (also contains Obi-Wan Omegaverse)

Day One - Jangobi, Omegaverse AU, fic Obi-Wan Kenobi's suppressants fail for the first time in his life as he's en-route to Kamino to investigate the attempt on Senator Amidala's life. Fortunately for him, there happens to be an Alpha available in the facility. Unfortunately for him, that Alpha is Jango Fett. Day Three - ObiMaul, Sith AU, art Day Four - Codywan, Omegaverse AU, fic Jango Fetts's intelligence provides the Republic with better footing at the start of the war. It is not the only thing he's left Obi-Wan with. Day Five - Codywan, Omegaverse AU, fic Obi-Wan Kenobi's pussy saves the galaxy. It just…takes a roundabout sort of path to get there. Also known as Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets To Have The Beginnings Of His Happy Ending, As A Treat. Day Six - Codywan, Omegaverse AU, fic Obi-Wan Kenobi's happy ending continues, just with a brief intermission as an old acquaintance resurfaces. Day Seven - Jangobi, art Some Jetii just look so pretty with a hand around their throat. Day Eight - Bail/Obi/Breha, art Bail and Breha Organa are unable to conceive on their own. They approach their dear friend Obi-Wan for a specific kind of assistance. He is more than happy to help.

Year of the OTP - Spirk

On Social Maturity Across Species - fic The Enterprise crew are sent to negotiate a new planet joining the Federation. Unfortunately for the Captain and First Officer, the people of Ektros IV don’t consider unattached individuals to be full-fledged adults and will not meet with Jim at the negotiation table unless he can prove his marital status. On Automatic Adrenal Responses - fic The crew of the Enterprise are sent to investigate reports of a rogue scientist developing illegal chemical weapons. Commander Spock becomes an inadvertent test subject. Spending All Our Time (Trying To Get Back Home Again) - fic In which the events of Beyond never take place, and Jim takes the Admiralty job. He manages to survive behind a desk for about a year before the need to be out there once more becomes too much for him to bear. But how will his old crew take his return to his post as Captain of the Enterprise?

They Told Me I Couldn't Bag A Jedi (And I Took That Personally)

Like A Puzzle - Codywan, fic The beginning of Marshall Commander Cody's Slut Era [Affectionate]™ You Think I Wouldn't? - CodyQuin, fic Marshall Commander Cody's Slut Era [Affectionate]™ Continues. A Fast And Dedicated Learner - Cody/Luminara/Shaak/Depa, fic Cody is invited to give batting for the other team a try. Still Got It - Cody/Mace, fic Cody decides to take some initiative as part of his Slut Era, only sort of because his brother basically dared him. Expanding Horizons - Cody/Obi/Kit, fic Cody's Slut Era™ Is Equal Opportunity

Art:

(Art links not a part of a series will go to the tumblr posts, since I haven't started putting any of them on AO3 yet)

Fox Day

Merry Christmas Hardcase

Ides of March Padmé

Ari Sketch

Commander Cody Phase Knives

Awful Little Carnivore

Baby's Second Paleoart

Stewjoni Wooley Bird

Perserverence Window (Gift for @lttrsfrmlnrrgby)

Major Bent

ObiMaul Hockey AU

#masterlist #please let me know if something isn't working or if i put any of the wrong links in or something

[ominousunflower]

Lace or Leather (Author’s Note + Recap)

Howdy! As y’all know, it’s been a while since I updated my final Miraculous fic, so this post includes a recap of the story thus far. But first, I’d like to mention two important things about the fic. Specifically, 1) “canon” in the fic, and 2) the “incompleteness” of the Burgundy and Blush series.

Unfortunately, my explanation of those two things ended up being rather long-winded, so I’m linking to the full explanation here. I’ll include a TL;DR in this post—but if you have the chance, I’d appreciate if you read the full-length explanation! The TL;DR gives you the most essential info, but it doesn’t really properly explain everything.

And for your convenience: if you read that explanation post first, there’s a link at the end that links back to this recap post.

TL;DR:

This fic was originally written early/mid-Season 3 and stays true to the canon at that time, which means that we’re operating under the “you must not reveal your identity or else you’ll lose your Miraculous” rule. Hopefully that contextualizes the characters’ perspectives in Chapter 19, along with some of their decisions moving forward! (Also, I have seen very little of Season 4 and nothing from Season 5, so those two seasons—along with a substantial portion of Season 3—have no relevance to this fic.)

There was originally supposed to be a third fic in this series. Lace or Leather is a standalone fic and does NOT end with a cliffhanger, so rest assured that this story will still feel complete! However, there is one “arc” that won’t be explored in the fic, and I’m sorry for anyone who would’ve liked to see that part. There really isn’t a feasible or satisfactory way for me to include that.

And now, the recap, up through Chapter 18!

(Note: I included specific summaries for Chapters 9-18, since a lot of this fic takes place over a short period of time. Feel free to skip to whichever point you find most helpful!)

The first several chapters of the story involve Marinette entering a design competition that’s being hosted by Gabriel. Adrien offers to be her model, and they meet up so that Marinette can watch him try on outfits for inspiration, since she’s struggling to come up with a design. Throughout these chapters, Marinette also spends more time with Chat Noir, who she’s gradually getting to know better. Marinette seems to have romantic feelings for him, but she fervently denies this and insists that she still wants to pursue Adrien.

In Chapter 9, Alya calls Marinette after she spent the day “playing dress-up” with Adrien, and reports that he seems to have a crush on Marinette. Marinette doesn’t believe Alya, but tells her that even if Adrien does like her, he should wait until after the competition to ask her out. Alya notes that Marinette seems surprisingly unenthusiastic.

After that phone call, Marinette realizes that she’s in love with Chat Noir and starts to panic. An akuma attack interrupts her breakdown, and when she runs into Chat as Ladybug, he talks her through an anxiety attack. Afterward, Ladybug wonders if Chat has fallen out of love with her. He notices that something is bothering her and urges her to talk to someone, even if it’s not him.

In Chapter 10, Marinette asks her parents for advice, explaining that she has feelings for two people. They reassure her that her feelings will make sense eventually; after all, she just realized her feelings for the second person earlier that morning. If she gives it time, she’ll eventually be in a better place to make a decision.

Later that night, Marinette is surprised to find Chat Noir on her balcony. He explains that it’s not the first time he’s visited without telling her—sometimes he needs to clear his head, but doesn’t want to bother her. They talk for a bit, and Marinette nearly kisses him, but the two of them end up knocking over a teacup before she can try. Since Marinette is worried about Chat, she offers to let him sleep over. They end up sharing the bed. Chat falls asleep first and seems have a nightmare, so Marinette wakes him up and assures him that he’s loved.

In Chapter 11, Marinette and Chat wake up together. Marinette is embarrassed about Chat seeing her first thing in the morning, but he thinks she’s cute. They talk some more, and Marinette reassures him that he he’s never imposing when he visits the Dupain-Chengs, and that he can consider himself part of the family.

While Marinette reheats some breakfast, she fishes for non-identifying personal details, such as what Chat’s room looks like. He admits that his room doesn’t really feel like it belongs to him. Somewhat concerningly, he notes that he’s probably due for a fight with his father, and mentions that the two of them hardly ever talk. Marinette offers him more reassurances and encouragement.

In Chapter 12, Adrien visits Marinette so that she can take his measurements. He has deviated from his usual style, and is wearing the leather jacket Marinette bought for him. The two of them are predictably flustered while Marinette measures Adrien, but they also banter and tease each other. Adrien opens up a bit about the issues he’s been having with his father.

He then tells Marinette about a photography project that he and Alya have been working on—as long as Adrien spends time constructively with his friends, his father allows them to hang out. (Apparently, though, Gabriel doesn’t like having Nino around; Nino is only allowed to wait in the foyer to walk Alya home.) Adrien shows Marinette some of his photos, and also tells her that he carries her lucky charm everywhere with him.

In Chapter 13, Marinette still can’t figure out a design, and she’s running out of time to submit one. As she’s talking to Tikki, she frets that she might end up rejecting Adrien if he confesses to her—but then she quickly backtracks, saying that she wouldn’t have a reason to reject him. Marinette decides the real problem is that Adrien isn’t opening up to other people quickly enough, which means that he’s not ready to be in a relationship with her. Before Tikki can dissuade her, Marinette transforms and travels to the Agreste mansion to speak with him as Ladybug.

Adrien doesn’t seem interested in discussing any of his insecurities, so the two agree to play video games instead. Ladybug unintentionally oversteps a boundary regarding the topic of Adrien’s father, and Adrien tells her that she’s out of line. Ladybug apologizes, and Adrien explains that while he’s aware his relationship with his father isn’t healthy—and that he tends to bottle things up until he explodes—he’s also allowed to keep things to himself.

Still, he says that he’d be happy if Ladybug checked in every now and then. She assures him that if he ever wants to talk, she’ll listen. It turns out that Adrien does want to talk about something: his crush on Marinette. Ladybug is stunned, but she manages to reassure him—although she ultimately suggests that Adrien should wait until the competition is over before pursuing Marinette.

In Chapter 14, Marinette and Adrien casually text each other, but now that Marinette knows he has romantic feelings for her, she keeps worrying about the tone of her texts. When Marinette mentions her conundrum to Tikki, Tikki says that she doesn’t see an issue with Marinette pursuing Chat; however, she refuses to recommend one boy over the other.

Later, Marinette meets with Alya for coffee. The two chat, and Alya says that Adrien made some interesting points about shipping Ladynoir—mainly, that it’s invasive, and that it forces the two superheroes to constantly dispel speculation about their relationship. Alya also notes that it seems like Ladybug and Chat Noir aren’t flirting as much lately, which Marinette takes as a sign that Chat really has stopped loving Ladybug. Marinette then mentions that she’s having trouble coming up with a design, and Alya offers some encouragement.

After an akuma attack, Ladybug tries to ask Chat Noir to grab coffee, but he tells her he’s busy. Ladybug points out that he’s stopped flirting with her, and asks if he’s ever going to flirt with her again. Chat notes, “It sounds like you’re asking a bigger question,” and Ladybug says that she might be. Chat asks for a raincheck on the conversation, since he needs to get back to an event before anyone notices that he’s gone.

In Chapter 15, Marinette has just finished sketching a very nice sleeve…and nothing else. Chat Noir shows up and detransforms so that he’s wearing pajamas and a masquerade mask. He vents that he had a frustrating day because his father forced him to go to an obnoxious party. He and Marinette end up joking about one of her celebrity crushes, but when Marinette jokes about Chat Noir’s “type” being “Ladybug”, he awkwardly admits that Ladybug isn’t the only girl he likes. Marinette wonders if he might have a crush on her civilian identity.

Once again, Marinette almost kisses him, but just barely resists the urge. She asks him if he wants to stay over again, and he says yes. Chat expresses regret that Marinette isn’t allowed to know his identity, since he’s tired of shutting people out. Then, changing the subject, he tells Marinette that he’s still waiting for her to make the lace shirt she “promised” him during a previous conversation.

Marinette confesses that she’s stumped on her contest design. Chat says that maybe she’s not feeling inspired, because “maybe you don’t want to design something for Adrien anymore.” He compares it to a song he once tried to write for a girl he loved, except his feelings changed halfway through it, and he wasn’t able to finish the song. Marinette realizes he must be talking about Ladybug. She protests and accuses Chat of “giving up” on Ladybug, which he objects to. He insists that he still has a valuable relationship with her, even if he’s not romantically interested.

Ultimately, Chat tells Marinette that she needs to design something she’s passionate about, and to stop worrying about whether the design “fits” Adrien as a person. When he jokingly complains that Adrien is getting a lace shirt instead of him, Marinette promises that she’ll make one for Chat, too. The two then go to bed. Marinette worries to herself that if she or Chat end up dating someone besides each other, they won’t remain close like they currently are.

In Chapter 16, Chat and Marinette wake up before school starts. Marinette fantasizes about a domestic life with him, and blurts out a question about how common Chat’s real first name is. He says that it’s pretty common (“definitely top fifty”), and Marinette asks if he can tell her, since it wouldn’t be identifying information. However, Chat says that it’s too risky. (“I guess you could look at a list and pick one to call me, but that’s no different than calling me Chat.”) Plagg shows up to tease the two lovebirds, and then Chat leaves so that Marinette can get ready for school.

At school, Alya and Nino ask about “Charles” (Chat Noir’s disguise at the masquerade dance in Burgundy and Blush). Alya then asks Adrien for his thoughts on Ladynoir, and Adrien says that he doesn’t support shipping real people. Nino is surprised, saying that Adrien used to be a huge fan of Ladynoir. Adrien then echoes Chat’s words about how the two superheroes can be close even if they’re not in a romantic relationship.

In Chapter 17, Marinette still can’t figure out a design. She meets up with Chat Noir as Ladybug and says she wants to continue their conversation from the day before. Ladybug expresses disappointment that he doesn’t love her anymore, which Chat disagrees with; he does love her, even if it’s not romantic. He asks why it matters, when she should be relieved—and Ladybug answers, “Because I’m in love with you.” She admits that she’s been anxious because she’s wondering why he stopped loving her.

Chat gets irritated and says that he hasn’t stopped loving her, and that he doesn’t love her less. He’s tired of everyone acting like platonic love is somehow inferior. He shares that he’s afraid to love people because his father always rejects him and forces him to buy his love, and because other people are constantly sticking their nose in his personal life. Ladybug says that he’s right, and that she was wrong to be dismissive; Chat says he’s sorry that she’s feeling hurt.

When Chat mentions an issue in his personal life, Ladybug offers to listen, but he says that he doesn’t want to ask her for advice about his romantic feelings for someone else. The two agree on a raincheck for the coffee date, and Ladybug ponders her feelings for Adrien and Chat Noir. She wonders if her bond with Adrien could ever be as strong as her bond with Chat, and whether she even has the patience to wait for that.

In Chapter 18, Marinette is still trying to finish her design for the competition; the deadline for her materials request form is in three days. She refuses to abandon her design for Adrien the way that Chat Noir abandoned his song for Ladybug.

Noticing Marinette’s art block, Tom tells her that he or Sabine will take her shopping for some fabric, so that Marinette can get work on a project that isn’t related to the contest. When Sabine takes her shopping, Marinette finds some gorgeous midnight blue lace that instantly reminds her of Chat Noir. After buying it, she immediately rushes home and creates an entire design for Chat’s shirt in one sitting. This success motivates Marinette to finish her design for Adrien as well.

Tikki notes that Marinette seems more excited about Chat’s design, but Marinette says that’s just because of burnout. Since she finished so close to the deadline, she goes to the Agreste mansion to submit the materials form in-person. She and Adrien chat for a bit, and Adrien admits that he begged his father to let him model for Marinette. Marinette thinks about how Adrien would say yes if she asked him out—and yet, it somehow feels like the wrong decision to ask him. She decides that it must be bad timing, since she’s stressed out from the contest. She then invites Adrien to visit over the weekend and play video games.

You can read Chapter 19 here!

#my fics #lace or leather

[danceswithdarkspawn]

Masterpost [Updated 1/30/24]

Links: ao3 | Characters | Headcanons | Kiss Prompt Fill List | Dragon Age Ask | Dinosaur Ask

By the way, this blog is LGBTQ+ friendly and TERFs and homophobes are not welcome to interact with me. This blog is 18+ and I encourage minors to DNI.

Hi there! I'm a being of indeterminate origin whose main fixation revolves around Dragon Age, and I am horribly, inexplicably gay. I love to play RPGs, bake and cultivate flowers.

I love to blab about my interests and works, or engage in thoughtful debate over my fixations. Huge lore nerd. Feel free to ask me whatever! I primarily write and read F/F fanfiction, but nothing is off-limits for me.

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About

This blog sometimes posts and links to things that may be dark or unsuitable for minors. While I try to warn appropriately, please be cautious, and I strongly urge minors to DNI.

I saw some of your headcanons and I don’t agree with them!

And that’s okay! Often most of my headcanons are for something super specific, but I do try to ground them within the rules of the canon, and/or make them as believable as possible. Basically, these headcanons are for me. There are plenty of popular headcanons/fanons I don’t agree with, but choose to ignore. Please do the same for mine.

When will you update?

Currently I do not have an upload schedule as my life is a little busy and my health comes and goes. Fear not; unless I have said so, I am still working on my fics!

Do you take requests?

I do not currently take requests because my thoughts are few and fickle and refuse to cooperate on demand.

What is your opinion on [x fandom topic/headcanon/etc.]?

While I enjoy shouting from the rooftops about how much Dragon Age’s canon gets on my last nerve, I’m not here to get involved in meta debates over the canon. I have thoughts about the canon that may not necessarily align with someone else’s, but I respect their views and do not wish to engage in any discourse personally. I do, however, love reading critical analysis and meta posts.

Similarly, I will not respond to any “How do you feel about [x pairing], trope, etc. We all have our squicks and our loves, and I’m not about to get engaged in or judge anyone based on what they do or don’t like. I expect others to act likewise when interacting with me and my blog.

#pinned #basically i am just very gay #hello world #writblr #personal bird posting

[lacewise]

Hey, you! Yes: you! Random person on the internet! I need to talk to you about something.

Nearly everything on social media (yes, that thing too) (yup, so is that) (yes, especially me) is marketing. That’s a morally neutral statement. It’s not “good” or “bad” or even “morally grey”. It is the way we have organized the internet, especially platforms on the internet.

If people are fighting for attention, eyeballs, interest… you’re going to get marketing. In this truth, people have different goals: entertainment, education, money, etc. That’s all still morally neutral.

Where it gets morally bad is when you buy into the marketing without any research. Where it gets even worse is when people tell you if you fact check the information you see on social media, *you* are morally bad. Why don’t you just buy into the marketing? Why don’t you just accept the buzzwords? And a lot of it seems to be an updated redux of “tolerate my intolerance!” (Which evolved to, “Hey, I’m just asking questions” then to “What if it’s really true? What if [blank innocuous thing] is the root of all evil?” And now it’s, “We have to do something!!! There’s no time to fact check!!! If this is really happening, there’s no time!!!”) Which I should not have to explain… is bad.

Let me explain anyway though: the increase in urgency and making it time sensitive is meant to send you into a panic. That fear/anger/anxiety response tells you you need to do something, right now! But it’s so difficult to know what… don’t worry, don’t freeze, don’t think, they have the answer! Do this right now! You have to! There’s only a few seconds left! You NEED TO DO THIS YOU—oh you’ve done it. Phew, crisis averted! You’re our hero! Now make sure to tell all your friends or nothing you did matters and you will be d—ned for all eternit—thanks for sharing! We need more people like you!

The difference between this and something actually time sensitive is something that is legitimate will 1) often not work you into a panic, because they’re just trying to make you more informed/legitimately interested, 2) they will give you actionable steps and 3) the tone is completely different. Here’s another example:

Hey, everyone. I’m sorry to say this but [politician] has betrayed our [community]. We met with [politician] and they promised us they would fight for our [very specific purpose, usually with its own specialized vocabulary]. Today they voted against that. But we’re not giving up! Please, pressure [government body] to change their minds about [issue] and vote again in our favor! This would [specific impact]. We are also working on this [alternative solution]. Please donate here! We’ll keep you all updated and together, we will will achieve [favorable result]. We won’t back down! Thank for your support!

Even if the legitimate advocacy is angry, devastated, resigned, or scared, you will still see the elements of specific information and solutions pertaining to a specific situation, especially using jargon pertaining to the specific situation, urging you to learn more or ally with them without 1) centering yourself, 2) accidentally spreading bad information, or 3) accidentally harming other communities in solidarity with theirs. Learning more and supporting movements is supposed to be an *ongoing process* not a “winner-takes-all” sporting tournament, with you as the star and hero.

If people are telling you not to get a second opinion about something that isn’t easily verifiable (especially if there are no primary sources to consult), that’s morally bad marketing.

You may be wondering why I’m framing this as “morally bad marketing” instead of “propaganda” (which is literally correct). That’s *also* marketing. I’ve found that propaganda is a loaded word in most contexts, and if you tell someone they’ve fallen for it, they’ll get defensive. However, if I frame it as a scam and focus my attention on the people manufacturing the scam (whether that’s outrage, bigotry, etc) sometimes it jolts people into realizing how flimsy the premise actually is. Which is very!

If people aren’t using their own activism and infrastructure to gain acceptance and solidarity. If people are using other movements’ platforms to get attention to their own (like stealing hashtags), especially if they use *different phrases and jargon* to gain acceptance in different communities, and keep coming up with new rhetoric every time their ideas don’t penetrate the demographic they’re targeting—these are all red flags of a size that could blanket Texas. Discarding one marketing strategy for another takes time, especially with decentralized communications. If multiple strategies are being employed at once on a large scale: I highly doubt that’s decentralized at all. If it looks like a sales funnel, talks like a sales funnel, etc…

Further, if you see a sudden proliferation of accounts that don’t seem organic, or someone is selling One Weird Little Trick to complete your life, cure your ails, bring about World Peace! [Blank] hates it!

You need to flee. I need you to understand my *very* clearly on this—you need to *flee* immediately. The *best case* scenario is you are being tricked out of currency.

No one doing this is *ever* selling solutions. They are feeding you fear and self-loathing, then selling you the feeling of control. “You can do it! You can change the world! We can do it! We can do it together!” But never, ever once telling you what “it” is. At least not at first. It’s always a lifestyle, a thing, a movement. “Sure the world has gone to pieces [true] but you’re better than the last people who messed up [source?] you can fix it! Just let us tell you how [no, this is a cult, RUN]”

And, again, this can apply to anything, including: companies selling you ‘lifestyles’, companies selling you that one super niche product that will fix your life forever, up to and including literal propaganda campaigns.

The thing is: it’s not about you. It’s about what they can take from you, while you smile happily, feeling privileged (so, so proud) they took it. They let you market for them while they took your money, time, humanity, etc! And it’s all because you’re so wonderful! And brave! And subversive! And whatever else you want to see yourself as!

#off topic #cw propaganda #tw propaganda #propaganda #marketing #social media marketing tactics #social media disinformation tactics #I know that no one will read this #but it is remarkable to me I had to write it #This is literally just propaganda 101 #I think people think they’re invincible #bc they’ve never seen these tactics tailored to them before #or at least recognized that’s what they were #they learned on the outdated ones #so that’s what they’re looking for #not realizing #that what they’re basing their defenses on is historical in nature #and can’t be 1:1 applied to the future #that’s why media literacy is crucial to a functional society #this new one is just taking advantage of instant gratification #every marketing strategy has a much much more dangerous propaganda strategy hiding right behind it #instant gratification is already dangerous

[rimofwell]

A long vent/update that started out pretty dark and then became slightly less so.

It feels weird to post things like this anymore (this really could have been a journal entry) but putting something out there in the world makes it feel more real which is sometimes comforting. 

Everything is a fucking mess. It’s hard to know where to start because it’s been like this for so long. It’s hard to point to what’s actually wrong because, at this point, I don’t even know. It’s just hard. I hate talking about it or writing about it, and I think it’s for that reason that I don’t journal or update anymore. Sometimes I won’t even mention it in therapy. I hate complaining about things or wallowing but I end up doing just that, even if it’s only inside my head. It’s just hard to see things getting better, and I don’t want things to keep going on like this so it feels like there’s no out.

If I had to point to something specific that’s wrong, I’d say it’s the depression/lack of energy/feeling of defeat that makes it impossibly difficult to function on a basic level. The things that used to make me feel attached, that I used to care about (academics, research, performing well), I just don’t care about anymore. And so I’m not doing them well. Not at all. It’s scary to lose the things that used to tether you. It has been like this for so long. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I felt excited about my research. And so I do the bare minimum. Lots of time, much less than that. And then I feel awful about that, about how badly I’m functioning, about the fact that it’s evident to others whose opinions used to matter to me. Then the shame just drowns me and I feel even more defeated and fed-up and done. Rinse, repeat.

I don’t know. If I look at this situation from the outside, I get frustrated. If I’m removed from it, it doesn’t seem as complicated as I make it out to be. But it also doesn’t necessarily feel any more hopeful. Becoming more attached to things, interested in research, and life would help me feel tethered. It would be a foundation upon which to build a life. But getting there requires a level of energy and focus I simply don’t have. All of my energy goes into feeling stable. Into getting through each day, pulling it together enough to seem fine. I’m dissociated or just so overwhelmed, so impulsive. Just dysregulated altogether in what feels like every way.

I’m frustrated about it and frustrated with myself for staying stuck in it. For complaining about being so overwhelmed and stressed and done and suicidal over and over again but still staying in this place. I’ve been here so many times before. It feels like I never left.

If I speak to myself about it, it sounds like:

That’s enough. You’ve had your time to feel sorry for yourself, to be upset. It’s time. It’s time to make some changes to improve things. If you change nothing, nothing will get better and you’ll remain as stuck as you are now. Things are not as hopeless as they feel, you’re just stuck. So stuck in a cycle of pessimism, hopelessness, and negativity that you can’t think creatively about anything. You spend so much time believing that this situation is hopeless and that you can’t feel better that you manifest that reality. There’s a whole world out there of things to try. You’re smart, resourceful, people like you and want to help you. You have it in you to find things to make you feel better you just have to get over this huge block that’s keeping you from making things happen.

And I think in a lot of ways that’s true. Nothing is ever as hopeless as it seems. And it’s really sort of ridiculous to be convinced that nothing in the entire world could be helpful at all. Wallowing in it or indulging in those feelings just makes me feel worse and prevents me from making the difficult and scary changes. I should fix my eating, learn how to be kinder to myself and stay present in my life. Ride out the urges to do impulsive things. Learn that I am all I have and that has to be enough. Accept that wanting to get better isn’t silly. It’s just vulnerable which is hard for me. 

Committing fully means opening myself up to the possibility that it might not work. And that’s terrifying. Having things come easily for a lot of my life makes it hard to push through when things feel unbearable. 

At the same time, things are really fucking hard. Which is valid. I think part of the block - maybe most of it - is this enormous amount of anger I have. And how I still hold tightly to it. I certainly don’t feel like I’ve been wronged by the world. If anything, I’ve been given many gifts. If I’m honest with myself, I am smart even if I feel like a complete idiot most of the time. For some reason, people are drawn to me and want to help. I have insights and thoughts about the world and the propensity to think deeply and make sense of what seems inconceivable. I just need to learn how to use it. To take what I’ve been given and use it to create a life that feels worth living. But I’m so so angry. Sometimes I just want to smash everything, destroy it all. I don’t know who I’m angry at anymore. Maybe - probably - it’s just the rage that I felt growing up and never got the opportunity to express. How I jumped to forgiving the people who harmed me without giving myself the opportunity to feel that hurt, betrayal, anger.

You have a right to be angry. Have all of the anger you want. No one is saying you don’t have a right to feel all the anger in the world. But at some point, you have to make a choice. If you let this destroy your life, that’s on you. Why you are angry makes sense but nothing can be undone. It’s yours now and you have to choose where to put it, how to hold it, what to make of it, and how to do that. If you let this inhibit you from moving forward you have no one to blame but yourself. It doesn’t have to be like that. There’s always a choice.

I have my moments of clarity, ~ and wise-mindedness~ but they don’t last for very long. This shouldn’t really be a surprise. It’s not like after years of thinking in such black-and-white ways, holding a dialectic would come naturally. It’s not that I don’t understand it, but threading that understanding into my life and letting it shape my behaviors is fucking hard. 

Sometimes it sounds like:

Let yourself have a life that’s worth living. It’s time. You deserve it. If you fight for it, you can have it. Nothing is fair, nothing in life can be handed to you. You get to decide what to do with the cards that you’ve been dealt. But you have to fight for the things you want, for the life that you want in order to have a shot at getting it. 

I was thinking the other day about how your subconscious isn’t shaped by the events that happen but rather by what you make of those events. How you code them in your mind. Yours is the only voice it hears. It’s how you speak to yourself that then teaches your brain how to respond to events that happen in your life. It’s like this self-teaching machine.

We learn how to do this early. We internalize how our parents speak to us, and what they make of the world; it informs how we then see the world and how we interpret and respond to it. Sometimes it’s good. A framework of hope, kindness, and compassion that makes life lighter. Seeing the world through that lens makes you more resilient to bad things that happen. They aren’t your fault, they won’t drown you, there are still good things. Oftentimes, the framework isn’t like that. It’s heavy and dark. Things are your fault, they are unlikely to change. This self-criticism that when turned inward makes your entire world miserable. When you see everything that happens through that framework, it’s inevitable that life will not feel worth living. If you see things like that of course it feels like there’s no way out.

But it’s not set in stone. It’s difficult to change but it’s not impossible. Changing your framework, how you see the world, and what you make of what happens to you has the propensity to change your entire life because all your life is is a series of responses to the events that happen, and then your responses to those events. It’s a feedback loop. Your responses to the people around you, how you interpret their behaviors, what that evokes in you, and what that then causes you to do. I think given all of that, it really is the case that you have the ability to change your entire world if you can wrap your head around that idea and use this self-teaching mechanism to your advantage.

I don’t know. Maybe I should write about things more. I started out this post feeling hopeless and stuck in a swirl of dark thoughts and loops that seemed impossible to break out of. But with some of these newer realizations, I feel better. Definitely not like anything concrete has changed but it doesn’t feel as messy or hopeless which at least makes this moment feel tolerable.

#update finally

[thetearsofadove]

I honestly love writing and writing for other people, but after doing it for years and seeing just how rude people can be is really making me reconsider releasing my writing for other people.

I love fanfiction. I've been writing it for almost 10 years. Started when I was 12, I'm 21 and turning 22 in February. I've blossomed. Fanfiction, both reading and writing it, has helped me grow as an author.

So obviously I'm going to want to share it with people. But...my god, it's become a horrible experience every time I've tried.

First, the entitlement that I see from readers. Sometimes, even from fellow writers. I don't know what's worse; when a reader is being an entitled douche, or a fellow writer.

Stop clogging my inbox with "UPDATE!! UPDATE!!" or things along the lines of begging me to update. I have a life. I have animals to tend to, I have money to make, I have mental health to keep in line. I'll update when I get to it. And if I don't? Apologies. But don't make it worse by making me panic.

I was nice enough to release free shit for you. Show me respect.

Also, stop telling authors what to write. Stop dictating what they should be writing. They don't have to write for a specific audience if they don't want to.

I wrote for DBD at one point and stopped because one asshole spammed me saying "write for Adam!! Horrible author, won't write for Adam".

I was going to in the future, I only started writing a few of the characters so I could work my way up. But I gave up.

Go find a writer that suits your tastes instead of insulting and demanding a random ass author to do it for you. Or, better yet? Do it yourself. We cannot read your mind, we have no idea what you want.

Wattpad is one of the worst sites for this. As a writer? Fuck Wattpad. Some of its users are so immature and entitled, it's insane.

I also cannot stand how people treat authors/writers like we're just these emotionless writing machines. I've specifically stated I am not taking requests right now, it's on my profile, so why are y'all sending me requests after I've stated they make me anxious and make me feel pressured? I left my ask box open for questions, that's it. I'm urged to now close it.

Authors/fanfiction writers are writing stuff for YOU for free. I am more than happy to write. I write for fandoms I'm not too involved in. I educate myself about said fandoms and characters in those fandoms so I can write them the best I can. I do it for YOU. Stop treating me like I'm not a human behind the screen with a life.

Also the lack of manners drives me fucking INSANE. Say please and thank you. Show some appreciation instead of "write this 4 me kthanx". It feels horrible, and like I said above, I am not some emotionless AI that writes for you. I have feelings. I spend an hour at the least out of my day writing for YOU when I could be writing for myself, drawing, watching my favourite TV shows...whatever.

Like...in general, be nice. Be kind. You wanna request? Add a please and thank you. Don't pressure authors. Also, don't make authors feel like they're responsible for your moods. I've been guilt tripped with "write this bc I feel sad and if you won't, I'll be more sad and it'll be your fault :((" and it makes me feel horrible.

I gave up writing for people in the past because I am let down every. single. time. It's 2023, fanfiction has existed for a VERY long time, the fact that being kind, patient and understanding isn't common knowledge is mind boggling.

Also? Get to know me a little bit, ffs. I have emotions. I have interests. Don't use me for just my work. It feels awful when I post something rambling about an interest or asking a QUESTION and I end up being ignored. It's fucking horrible.

#this is a vent but you can rb if you relate to this #writing #fanfiction #x reader #i get a lil heated in here i'm sorry lol #do not reblog or reply w/ arguments because idgaf and you will be blocked #let me vent. let a writer vent #vent #tw vent #vent post #i'm just fed up ykwim #speaking up for the fellow authors #cause after nearly a decade of poor treatment i am Tired with a capital T

[avaetin]

What would you say is the most challenging part about writing a multi-chapter fic? I'm asking because I want to start but I'm worried I might stop along the way. Thanks in advance!

Hmm... it depends, really. Since your concern is specifically stopping at some point, I'll give an answer based on that.

1) Lost interest. Could be just that. Some ideas start as interesting in our heads. We get that overwhelming urge to write it, and then... *poof*. More often than not, in the case of a multi-chapter, in order for said idea to come to life - aka, be written - you have to build up to it. It takes time and effort, and tendency is you just lose interest.

2) Lack of feedback. In continuation to #1, you lose interest too because you lack feedback. Is my work good? Is my work bad? You spend so much effort on your work and sometimes, especially if you're new, you might have the mentality that you're spending so much effort but no one or so few notice your work. That's why if you look around, you'll see many posts about people encouraging others to leave reviews on their favourite works because authors determine readers' interest in their work through that.

3) Burnt out/Writer's block. I was burnt out just recently. Took a break from writing because ideas were just nonexistent at that time. Sometimes, a burnt out could last weeks. Writer's block could last for days, weeks, months, heck years even.

4) Lack of preparation. In the case of fantasy/historical/sci-fi/etc. settings, research is your best friend. "What if I don't need to do research?" That's a lie. Lol, kidding. Even if you don't need to do intensive research for your work, you still need to have an outline of your story. How you want it to begin and end, what details you want to include, the plot, etc. Without that, your story might fail.

P.S. Also, combining points 4 and 1, I suggest you have a schedule for when you want to update. Once a week, a few times a week, twice a month, once a month... I find that having no schedule makes me procrastinate. So yeah, I suggest having a schedule.

#just random stuff #it's past midnight here so my brain is slowly shutting down #i might add more but here's my answer so far #hope that helps anon!

[marveloussupernerd]

Surprise Baby! - 707

Summary: life is full of surprises. This is one you certainly weren’t expecting. Good thing the RFA is always by your side for it all

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, giving birth, seven’s real name, profanity

This is such a good way for me to get back into writing I smiled so much writing this

It was happening again. This godforsaken kidney stone was finally moving. You had felt it moving before: sometimes it was painful, other times it just felt weird, but this one was specifically bad. It led you curled up in a ball on your bed, whimpering in pain.

Saeyoung had been extremely busy with work for C&R lately, but it wasn’t like he didn’t check on you on these particularly painful days. Practically sensing your pain, he padded into your shared bedroom and placed a gentle hand on your side. “That’s it. You need to go to a doctor.”

You turned your head and glared at him. “I don’t need a doctor. It’s a kidney stone. They’re genetic, and they’re a pain in the ass, but it’ll be fine.”

“Fine? This has been bothering you for months.”

You could feel it moving again and let out a cry in pain. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

“I’m calling the doctor,” he said, his voice with an edge in it that let you know he wasn’t leaving any of this up to you.

Saeran came in a moment after, holding a mug in his hands. He had stayed living with you and Saeyoung after the two of you had gotten married, and he was always a happy addition. He never felt like an inconvenience, or a third wheel. He was the perfect addition to your little home.

“Chamomile tea. I thought the warmth would help,” Saeran smiled, setting the mug down on the nightstand next to you.

You murmured a ‘thank you’ and buried your head under a pillow to endure the pain.

Seconds later, the pillow was ripped off your head and your vision was blinded by the bright lights of the room. “Get up. The doctor doesn’t have any appointments so we’re going to the emergency room.”

You grumbled, holding out your hands so he could grab them and help you up, which he did happily, then threw on a sweatshirt to get ready to go. “I’m sorry I’m so dramatic,” you apologized, a wide frown on your face. “I know you have lots of work to do.”

“No worries, babe. I’m the one making you go. Jumin can wait.”

Saeran stopped you on your way out the door. “You’re gonna be okay, right?”

You grabbed his shoulder lightly, trying to ignore the wave of pain in your lower abdomen. “Of course I am. We’ll be back before you know it!”

He glanced at Seven. “Keep me updated, okay?”

Seven saluted to his brother, a dorky smile on his face. He held open the door for you and helped you to his car, a hand gentle on your back to make sure you got in safely.

Saeyoung was furious that they wouldn’t let him into the room with you. He was your husband. You giggled, rolling your eyes at him and kissing his cheek, promising to text him updates.

Your doctor had a smile on her face as she entered your room. “Hi! You’re in for lower abdomen pain, right? Will you give me a 1 to 10 for the pain?”

“Hi, sorry, my husband urged me to come. It’s been bothering me for a while now, but this is the worst it’s ever been. It comes in waves. When it’s really bad it’s about a 7. When it’s not it’s practically unnoticeable. I’m pretty sure it’s a very stubborn kidney stone.”

She scribbled a few notes. “That could definitely be it. It might be a UTI as well. Any chance you might be pregnant?”

“I mean, I might be? I have no idea.”

She finished writing then looked up at you. “Awesome. So we’re gonna have you do a quick urine sample to test for a UTI. We’ll also check to see if you’re pregnant, since some antibiotics we could put you on to help alleviate the pain may affect a pregnancy. If there’s no UTI, we’ll do a scan for a kidney stone. All sound good to you?”

“Sounds great to me. I’m just eager to get this all sorted out.”

“I can imagine why.” She handed you a cup. “I’m going to have you take this to the restroom, do a sample for me, and put it in the back cabinet. Then we’ll take it from the other side and get a quick start on the testing.”

You took the cup and headed to the restroom. Luckily there wasn’t any pain as you performed the sample and it all went by pretty seamlessly. You texted your husband an update.

Gave them a sample to test for a UTI. If it’s negative we’ll scan for a kidney stone

Your phone dinged almost immediately with a reply:

Sounds fun, I’m jealous. Keep me up to date

The text made you giggle, then stop immediately as the shooting pain hit you again. You tried your best to stay composed, hiding your grimace as the doctor came back in.

“Going through one of those waves again?” She questioned, taking note of your hunched over form.

You nodded grimly.

“We’ll, I’ve got some pretty interesting news for you. It looks like your pregnant.”

Your heart started to flutter. You hadn’t noticed any symptoms yet. You had been ridiculously stressed the past few months, causing your periods to be abnormal, so it would have been hard to tell to begin with.

“Do you know how far along?” You asked, which was a pretty stupid question in hindsight. How would she know that from just a test.

“I’m gonna send in our obgyn specialist to help you out and give you a more definite answer. Congratulations! I hope all is well. It’s likely that the baby would be the cause of any cramping and pain you may be having.”

You couldn’t wipe the tiny smile off your face. “Well that’s a relief. Thank you so much!”

There was a knock on the door as another doctor came in. She introduced herself with a bright smile. “I hear congratulations are in order. Let’s see how far along you are and if there isn’t anything we can do about some of that pain.”

She wasted no time scooting you to the end of the examination table, feeling around your lower abdomen, but she paused almost immediately.

“Is something wrong?” You asked her hesitantly.

“Have you been having sexual activity continuously for a while? Like when did you start having it frequently?”

You knew you were blushing, even though it was ridiculous to be embarrassed to tell your doctor such a thing. “My husband and I have been pretty consistently active for the past year or so.”

“Hmm,” the doctor looked almost puzzled. “I’m going to do a quick internal exam if that’s alright.”

You prepared yourself as much as you mentally could for the exam, but it was fortunately pretty quick.

The doctor took off her gloves. “Is your husband with you today.”

You nodded. You started to feel the pain again and grimaced. “He’s in the waiting area.”

“I’m going to send for him. You’re… a little further along than we thought.”

You were truly in too much pain to comment on it. In less than half a minute Saeyoung was by your side. “You had me worried,” he sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You weren’t texting back.”

He noticed your pained expression and moved his hand down to stroke your cheek. “Hey, we’re gonna be alright, ‘Kay?”

“We’re expecting,” you told him breathlessly.

“Really!?”

The doctor came back into the room, smiling, shutting the door behind her. “You’re a little further along than you may think,” she explained to your husband.

“You didn’t realize…?” He asked, turning back to face you.

You shook your head. “I’ve been so stressed with all the Rika investigations that my periods have been random and spotty for months.”

“I wish I could break this to you in any other way, but time is of the essence. Your abdomen pain is because of contractions,” the doctor explained, holding her clipboard tightly in her hands.

“Contractions?” You questioned.

She nodded curtly. “You’re about six inches dilated. We’re going to have to take you nextdoor to the hospital and get you in a delivery room.”

Saeyoung froze. “Is the baby okay?”

The doctor took a minute to find her words and speak: “I have no reason to believe the baby wouldn’t be okay. The issue is that we can’t be sure how far along they are without more tests, which will have to wait until birth. Do you drink, or do drugs of any kind?”

You shook your head. “We don’t do any of that in our house.” You had sworn away from any substance of the sort after seeing how terrified it made your husband and your brother in law. Things like that weren’t worth the issues they caused.

“That’s a very positive sign. We can get you in a bed to wheel you next door.”

You looked up at Saeyoung. “You need to call Saeran.”

His face was still one of shock, not having changed since he heard you were in labor. “No kidding. I’ll do it while I walk with you.”

As you were being wheeled to the hospital, you shakily grabbed your phone and called Jaehee. She had known that you weren’t feeling well earlier, and picked up immediately.

You tried not to groan at the beginning of your call. “Jaehee!” you greeted, your voice louder than normal due to the pain.

“Are you okay? Do you need help?” Her voice was frantic because of your alarming tone.

And then all of a sudden came the waterworks. You burst out into tears. “I have no clothes for the baby,” you sobbed.

Seven, still on the phone, held it slightly away from his ear and grabbed your hand, looking at you with concern.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, looking up at him.

“Are you okay? What on Earth is going on?” Jaehee asked, even more panicked than before.

“I-“ you shouted out a profanity at the incoming pain. “I am in labor it turns out.”

“My God. I’ll get some stuff and bring it to the hospital. Are you with Saeyoung?”

“Mhm.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I’ll be there as quickly as possible!”

Six inches dilated. Four hours to go until you could push. The good news was that you had your own hospital room.

Time remaining: 3 hours 33 minutes

Jumin leaves C&R for the day, sending his employees home. V arrives with Saeran at the hospital.

Saeran is in an extremely panicked state, but is trying not to show it.

“Congratulations! I didn’t realize it all happened so quickly,” he commented. Poor Saeran was still working on understanding the world.

“This isn’t how it works at all Saeran,” you explained, letting out a breathy chuckle. “Saeyoung and I are just awful parents and didn’t realize I was pregnant. It takes nine months for the baby to come.”

“You’ve been carrying that baby for nine months?” His eyes widened.

“Wanna come feel it?” You offered. He shrunk back into the corner. Baby steps.

V had clapped Saeyoung on the shoulder, bringing a million congratulations and, fortunately, not bringing his camera, much to Seven’s dismay.

Time remaining: 2 hours 54 minutes

Jaehee arrives with everything you could ever need. Sweatpants. Tank tops. Pajamas. A robe. Deodorant. Face wipes. Hair ties. Phone chargers. Pretzels. A speaker for music. She has four different outfits all of varying sizes for the baby. A car seat is already in Saeyoung’s car, she informs you.

Jaehee takes her spot of honor calming Saeran down.

Time remaining: 2 hours 37 minutes

Jumin arrives, stacks of wrapped presents for the baby in his hands. He sets them in the doorway for some reason. After greeting you, he subjects himself to a chair in the corner and takes out a book, using a wooden pencil to make notes in it as he mutters to himself. V makes his way to see what Jumin is doing, shakes his head, then goes to get more snacks.

Time remaining: 2 hours 12 minutes

Vanderwood shows up, extremely flustered. Saeran had given him a call. Vanderwood brings all of the things Jaehee couldn’t have possibly imagined she needed to bring: pads, nipple cream, other suspect cream that you don’t even want to know the purpose for. Everyone asks him how he knows this. He refuses to answer.

Vanderwood is oddly knowledgeable about labor.

Time remaining: 1 hour 53 minutes

Yoosung and Zen finally show up. As they walk through, Yoosung pops a party pooper, sprinkling confetti in the room, which gets him in big trouble with Vanderwood, who lectures him about the importance of sterility in the labor room.

Yoosung has decided to hold an impromptu baby shower since you couldn’t have one earlier.

“Alright everyone!” He announces, cutting Vanderwood’s complaining off. “It’s time for our first baby shower game.”

You bite your lip. “Yoosung I really don’t-“

“Nonsense! They’ll be easy and super fun. First off is guess the gender. Super easy, you don’t even have to get up,” he reassures you. He walks around the tiny, extremely crowded hospital room handing pieces of paper and pens to everyone to write their name and their gender guess on. Even the nurse in the room gets to play along.

When everyone is done, he folds up the papers and tosses them into the tube that was part of the party popper. He pats the tube affectionately. “We’ll look at our guesses after the baby comes out to see who was right.”

Jumin goes back to putting his head in his book, which Yoosung snags from him and snaps shut. “Next game is the price is right!”

“Sweet!” Seven cheers. “I love that show!”

“Everyone, but me, will get a piece of paper where they guess how much the baby item is. Are you ready to play?”

Admittedly, he is getting your mind off of this all.

“How much… is a… 50 pack of pampers swaddlers?” He asks, his announcer voice completely gone as he realizes how ridiculous the question is.

$20.99. Easy guess. Seven guesses $14.53. Jaehee guesses $16.99, Saeran says $30, Zen guesses $5, and Jumin guesses $110.

V can’t even see his paper to write down a guess.

Vanderwood, of course, for some godforsaken reason, is right on the money at $26.94.

“We’re going to go broke from this baby,” Seven whines, dropping his piece of paper dramtically. Nobody even bothers to tell Jumin his guess was ridiculously wrong, although Zen jokes that Jumin could be the baby’s sponsor and pay for all its stuff.

“Okay, that game was not a hit.” Yoosung glares at Vanderwood. “So, for our final game: pin the pacifier on the baby.”

Yoosung pulls out the “baby” with a flourish. It is a circle with two dots for eyes and another round circle as a mouth. You let out a snort.

The pacifier looks like a diamond ring, but isn’t that bad honestly.

“The baby mama gets to go first!” Saeyoung cheers, offering his hand to get you to stand up. You look to the nurse for confirmation and she shrugs, smiling at you.

You grumble about how everyone is lucky you didn’t take an epidural and you’re able to stand and move around right now. Yoosung uses Jumin’s tie to blindfold you and spin you around. You feel absolutely nauseous. Luckily your husband is right beside you, holding your arm to steady you despite Zen yelling that it’s cheating.

Jaehee gets the closest this time around, as she’s spent the better of the past three years making sure everything is perfect, regardless of if she’s in a car or on a rocking boat or has her eyes closed. It’s not very surprising.

V didn’t even need a blindfold. Saeran takes him out of the room to have a nearby doctor check to see how bad his vision has got.

Time remaining: 45 minutes

Yoosung and Zen have also taken their leave, opting to hang out in the waiting area. Jaehee is pacing, Vanderwood is speaking with the nurse, and Jumin is still muttering in the corner.

“Jumin!” You shout, catching his attention. He looks up at you and does an awkward half-wave. “What the hell have you been muttering about for the past two hours?” The contractions are getting closer and closer and your patience is long gone.

“Baby names.” He holds up the book he’s been reading. “This book is full of them with their country of origin and their meanings. I’ve been sounding them out with Choi to see what’s best.”

You turn to your husband. “If I look down and read right now I think I’m gonna vomit.”

“That’s alright, I may read them aloud for you. Adrienne. Laurel. Oliver-“

“Mr. Han, your father asked me if you could call him immediately,” Jaehee informed him. She glanced at you and winked.

“That’s not important now. We have-“

“Let me come out with you.” Jaehee led him out of the room.

Peace. Just you, your husband, your nurse, and your other nurse Vanderwood.

Time remaining: 18 minutes

“You should be good to start pushing soon,” Vanderwood observed. “Of course, you’ll need to check with the doctor first.”

Saeyoung stared at him. “I feel so uncomfortable with you getting so up close and personal with my wife right now.”

“I was just checking how much she was dilated.”

“I am begging you to let the actual nurse do her job.”

Vanderwood just stared blankly. “9 and a half centimeters,” he stated.

“Out!” Seven pushed him out the door.

Time remaining: 6 minutes

Zen jumped to his phone ringing, running to your labor room. “You rang?” He asked, slightly out of breath, hair dissheveled from stress.

“Zen!” You cheered. “The doctor is going to be here any minute and I’m going to have to go into overdrive, and all this idiot is doing is playing ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams on repeat. I’m about to kill him.”

“I want you to be happy!” Saeyoung giggled. You felt another contraction and squeezed his hand like a vice, causing him to yelp and shut up.

“Saeyoung, turn off the music. Zen, sing me one song before I have to push this stupid baby out.”

Zen chuckled, walking over to you and offering his hand to your empty one. “I’m not warmed up, but I’ll do my best. How’s ‘Here Comes The Sun’?”

“Literally beautiful. I’m begging you.”

Zen started to sing the tune, his face contorting as you screamed out in pain, but his notes never faltering (he is a professional after all). You squeezed Saeyoung’s hand tightly and let your other hand rest gently on Zen’s.

As his song ended, you gave his hand a light squeeze. “Thank you. Love you. Now go run off before things get messy in here.”

“If you need any of us you let me know,” he reminded you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he took his leave.

Time remaining: 0 minutes

“Well that certainly has to be one of the fastest pushing sessions I’ve ever witnessed,” the doctor grinned, carefully setting the baby on your chest for some skin-to-skin action. “Looks to me that you have a healthy baby girl. Based on her size and general weight, it seems like you carried her to term as well.”

“Thank God for that,” Saeyoung sighed happily. He still held your hand in his own, but squatted down to get closer to your new daughter. “Hi baby. I’m gonna be your dad.”

You let out a tiny giggle. “You are her dad.”

His voice was still soft as he made fun of you: “In my defense, I didn’t know I was going to be a dad until about four hours ago.”

“And what a pleasant surprise it all is,” you cooed at your baby.

One of the nurses walked in with paperwork. “Hi Mom and Dad. You two have a name picked out?”

Your eyes widened slightly and you turned to look at your husband.

“Guess we should’ve kept Jumin in here with his list of names, huh,” Seven joked.

“Yeah no kidding. I don’t remember any of them but I didn’t think they were all that bad.” You felt kind of stupid for never even thinking about a name for the kid, but in your defense you hadn’t had much time to think.

“He’s not too bad at naming, yeah, shockingly.”

And then you locked eyes.

And then you knew.

Two hours later

“Saeran, meet your niece, Elizabeth,” you grinned at him. He got to be the first visitor in your hospital room.

Elly’s eyes were shut, but she was squirming gently. “Do you want to hold her?” You offered, lifting her up slightly.

He shook his head. “Don’t think I’m ready for that yet.”

The baby was snatched out of your arms. “Bummer, guess Elly will have to spend more time with her dad then,” Saeyoung chuckled, rocking her in his hands.

“Oh! Speaking of, Zen said I could stay at his place for a while, to give you time with Elizabeth,” Saeran said awkwardly, glancing at his brother holding the little girl in his arms.

“If you want to you definitely can. But I know Elizabeth would love to spend time with Uncle Saeran,” you grabbed his wrist gently. “We’re not sick of you and we never will be.”

“Plus I’ll need some help getting a nursery together,” Saeyoung added, turning to look at you.

“Now that won’t be necessary.” A voice in the doorway made you jump a little.

“Sorry, keeping them all back is harder than you’d think,” Jaehee said timidly, a hand on Jumin’s arm to try and keep him back.

“I gave Vanderwood my credit card and he went back to your house to get everything set up for the baby. What name did you choose, by the way?” Jumin asked, smiling.

“Elizabeth,” you grinned.

“Elizabeth Choi. It wasn’t even on my radar, but it’s a perfect name,” Jumin nodded.

Zen pushed past him slightly, entering the room. “Anyways, I wanna see my niece!”

“Please, why don’t you all come in,” you welcomed them sarcastically.

The RFA was never good at taking hints or understanding sarcasm, so they all piled into the room, cooing over the baby in your husband’s arms.

Sure she may have been a surprise, but she would be well-cared for with her giant new family.

#mystic messenger #mysme #707 #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #y’all better like this bc I am so entertained