#either way I hope this advice has been helpful so far!

[anipgarden]

What to Do Once Things Are Planted?

This is my seventh post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps! 

So you’ve gotten started on making a garden to boost biodiversity! 10/10, excellent work! So, now what?

First, you’ll need to keep watering the plants--especially if you’re going through a dry season. Native plants will be more acclimated to your area’s seasonal weather, but they’ll need a helping hand while they’re getting established--especially if you’re starting with young, tender seedlings. With that in mind, if you accidentally skip out on crucial watering days, don't panic! There's been tons of times where I haven't watered for an entire summer and had perennials come back the next spring! Even this year, during a heatwave, I completely did not water my swamp milkweeds, but they're already popping back up! You may also need to go in and weed, especially if you’re seeing invasive species popping up in the garden. Invasives are no good--if you do anything, do your best to get those out as effectively and safely as possible!

If you’re needing to maintain your shrubs in spring and summer, double check to make sure there are no active bird or insect nests within them. If it’s possible to wait until later to cut your shrubs, it could be extremely beneficial.

When fall and winter come around and your plants begin to die back, don’t cut them away if you can! Many insects overwinter in the plant stems left behind as perennials die back to the roots. In addition, birds will use seed heads as a source of food over the winter. Try not to clean things up until late winter/early spring, when other food sources are beginning to come back and things are growing again. By then, the insects should be waking up and leaving the plant stems as well.

However, don’t let this discourage you from collecting seeds! Collecting seed from your plants is a great way to continue gardening at low cost, as well as making friends and encouraging others to garden by trading seeds or offering them as gifts. If you're in an area where you do need to cut back, this is a great opportunity to collect the seeds and save them for the future. You could also cut back what’s dying in the front yard and keep things to overwinter in the backyard. Some overwintering habitat is better than no overwintering habitat.

Want to know how to collect seeds from specific plants? I've found YouTube to be a great source of info for this! Knowing what you're doing and when is key to getting a viable harvest.

As your mulch begins to break down, you’ll need to keep adding more to top it off, if you can. It can get a bit repetitive, but no worries--the mulch breaking down means your soil is improving! 

If possible, add to your garden! Expand, add in new things, and keep encouraging the growth of native plants. If you couldn’t add that water feature in year one, see if you can in year two! New interest in birds? Add a birdhouse, or more bird feeders. Loving the butterflies? Add plenty more nectar-rich plants, or do more research into what they lay their eggs on! Want more color? See what else you can add in! Came into some new pots to expand your flowerpot garden with? Find cool native plants to put in them! I always encourage people to start small and then expand over time, as opposed to starting big and getting overwhelmed.

Keep learning and observing native species of birds, insects, mammals, etc. See what’s coming to your yard now, and look into how you can improve things more for them on your budget. If you aren’t seeing what you were hoping, see if there’s other actions you can take that’ll attract what you’re hoping to see in your backyard habitat. Knowing more about the world around you makes it easier to know how to help the world around you. Talk to others about what you’re doing, the changes you’ve made, and the results you’ve seen! Curious neighbors? Work friends? Your closest homies? Your family? All fair game! You just might be the one who gets someone else interested in making their space a habitat for local wildlife!

That’s the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about the secret Other Thing you can do to help biodiversity--tackling invasives! Until then, I hope this advice was helpful! Feel free to reply with any questions, your success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

#biodiversity #solarpunk #gardening #outdoor gardening #ani rambles #out of queue #the biodiversity saga #at least it hasn't been 2 months since the last post amiright #i know its september so by this point a lot of northern hemisphere folks are winding down on gardening #buuuut winter's a good time to buy seeds for cheap! and for plotting and planning #and meanwhile the southern hemisphere will be just gearing up! #either way I hope this advice has been helpful so far!

[lecsainz]

Hii can you maybe write one about max falling in love with you but hes with kelly (maybe smut👀) not trying to be weird i swear😔

FOOLISH

parings: max verstappen + ricciardo!reader | charles leclerc + ricciardo!reader

summary: where max has feelings for you but he's with kelly, and when he finally acts on it, it's already too late.

an: I switched up your request a bit, but I can do another if you'd like. not writing smut at the moment because I've got a creative block for it, hope y'all understand.

type: angst ✶

masterlist

Max couldn't remember when he had fallen in love with you. He just knew it was wrong. After all, he had been with Kelly for years, and it was all kinds of wrong to constantly have someone else on his mind. But God, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you.

He had always been fond of Daniel's younger sister, but he couldn't decide whether to thank or curse the day when Daniel had come to him, grinning from ear to ear, to reveal that you would be the nutritionist for his team during the season. This meant that Max would see you every day, but in a different garage, with a different team, and, most painfully, with other drivers – the very thought made him sick to his stomach.

As the season went on, Max found himself craving every fleeting moment he could spend around you. He had a feeling it was inevitable, that his heart was already too far gone. But he couldn't bring himself to act on his feelings; he had his commitment to Kelly, and he was not the kind of man to betray his girlfriend, no matter how deep his feelings ran.

One evening, Max found himself wandering the paddock aimlessly, lost in thought about the impossible situation he had found himself in. He didn't realize he had ended up in the same lounge area as you until you looked up and gave him a warm smile.

"Max, right?" you said, and the sound of your voice sent shivers down his spine.

Max nodded, trying to hide his internal turmoil behind a smile. "Yeah, that's me. Y/N, isn't it?"

You nodded, and a friendly conversation began. Over time, Max couldn't help but be drawn to you, to the way you listened intently and laughed genuinely. It was so different from the way he felt around Kelly, with whom he had been together for a long time, but things had grown stagnant over the years.

Days turned into weeks, and Max's feelings for you only grew stronger. He couldn't control the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw your name pop up on his phone, or the rush of excitement when he knew he'd be able to chat with you between practices. The guilt gnawed at him, but he couldn't help but cherish those stolen moments.

As the season reached its midpoint, Max found himself confiding in Daniel, sharing his inner turmoil and revealing the truth about his feelings for you. The elder Ricciardo listened, offering support and advice, but ultimately respecting Max's decisions.

"I get it, mate," Daniel said, clapping Max on the back. "It's a messy situation, but you've got to figure out what's best for you."

Max nodded, his heart heavy with the weight of his feelings and the knowledge that he couldn't act on them.

One day, as the season drew closer to the end, Max sat in the quiet of his hotel room, looking at a photo of you on his phone. He couldn't help but smile as he remembered a particularly amusing conversation the two of you had shared earlier in the day. But the smile quickly faded as he thought about the reality of his situation.

He had a loving, committed girlfriend in Kelly, and he couldn't simply throw that away for something that might never be. It wasn't fair to her, and it wasn't fair to himself either. Max knew he had to make a decision, even if it tore him apart.

Max decided to take a walk to clear his head, wandering the quiet streets of the city where the race was taking place. He replayed his conversations with you in his mind and thought about the love he had for Kelly. It was a painful and agonizing decision, but he knew what he had to do.

Later that night, Max sat down with Kelly in their hotel room. The conversation was filled with tears and broken hearts, but he knew he had to be honest with her. He explained his feelings for you and the unbearable guilt he felt for allowing those feelings to grow.

Kelly was devastated, but she understood. She had felt the distance between them and knew that something was amiss. They both agreed that it was best to end their relationship, even though it was painful for both of them.

Max knew that he couldn't immediately pursue a relationship with you, and he wasn't even sure if you felt the same way about him. But he needed to be honest with himself and find his own path, even if it meant enduring a period of heartache.

In the aftermath of his breakup with Kelly, Max decided to give himself some time to heal and find his own path. He knew he couldn't immediately pursue a relationship with you, and he wasn't sure if you felt the same way about him. But he also knew that he couldn't keep his feelings buried forever.

As the days turned into weeks, Max focused on his career, throwing himself into his racing with even more determination. The tracks became his sanctuary, the roar of the engines helping to drown out the ache in his heart.

However, the memory of you still lingered in his thoughts, refusing to fade. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about your passion for motorsports, your laughter, and the warmth in your voice—all of it was etched into his memory.

One day, during a race weekend in a picturesque European city, Max decided that he couldn't keep his feelings bottled up any longer. He needed to tell you how he felt. The only question was how and when.

That night, he gathered the courage to call you. Your voice was as welcoming as ever, and as the conversation flowed, Max felt his heart pounding in his chest. He had intended to tell you his feelings, to admit the truth about his emotions, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words.

"Y/N," he began, hesitating as he sought the right words. "I've been thinking a lot lately. About us."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Max could hear the curiosity in your voice. "What about us, Max?"

He took a deep breath and finally said, "I think there's something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago."

Just as he was about to confess his feelings, you interrupted. "Max, there's something I need to tell you too."

Max's heart sank, but he couldn't stop now. He had to be honest. "Okay, you first."

There was a heavy sigh on your end, and you spoke slowly. "I'm with Charles now, Max. We've been dating for a while, and things have gotten quite serious between us."

Max's world seemed to crumble around him as he processed your words. It was a bitter twist of fate. He had waited too long to confess his feelings, and now you had moved on with someone else. He tried to hide the pain in his voice as he responded, "I see. I'm happy for you, Y/N. Charles is a great guy."

You thanked him for his understanding, but Max couldn't bring himself to say anything more. The conversation felt like a blur, and he hung up the phone, feeling a sense of loss he hadn't anticipated.

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen au #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x oc #f1 x you #f1 headcanons #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #fic request #🏎️. — f1 works ⋆∴

[vampirzina]

Hello! May I pretty please request mk1 characters with a reader who is really tired and it's having some complications on her like having a harder time breathing or being dead tired?

tw: gn pronouns, sfw, mdni, alphabetical order, short hcs, illness and sleep disorders, injury

notes: anon! i hope you and anyone who feels like this get well if this has anything to do with what’s going on offscreen. i also didn’t know if you wanted specific characters or not so i did the entire roster. also apologize if it’s a little ooc. take care x

masterlist : divider credit

Ashrah paused her path to redemption to check on you. She’d ask you when you first shown signs if you were okay, but when you brushed her off she had no choice but to leave it be. She’d simply help you when you’d fell sick, until she knew you’d be okay. She wouldn’t further herself until she knew you’d come with her.

Baraka already worried constantly about giving you his disease if you weren’t already infected. So to him, your health was the utmost importance and seeing you well was a sign that he didn’t harm you. When it was reported that you’d fallen ill from the lack of sleep, he would help you as often as possible but take his frustration out on some of the colony for not looking after you when he can’t. He’d even ask Mileena if there is anything she could do to help you, or advice, but he’d rely mostly on what he knew.

Bi Han would have noticed something was up when you didn’t sleep when it came time to. He might not care too much at first when he sees you’re still functioning but that changes entirely when one of his subordinates told him that you were rushed to the infirmary because you felt like you were suffocating. He will know what’s wrong with you whether you tell him or not, and until you rest, you’ll be bedridden. If he can’t bring you things you ask for himself, he’ll get others (or his brothers) to do it for you… Except for cuddles/intimacy.

General Shao begins to worry on the inside when you start to get sick, but he keeps he’s tough exterior. He’ll investigate your current habits if he hasn’t already, and go to the best doctors in all of Outworld for help. When he gets to the bottom of it, don’t try to deny it—he notes your dark under eye. He knows what it’s like to be sick and it is not fun at all. He scolds you for not taking care of yourself, even a little offended that you’d do such a thing while with him. However, he relies on the doctors who he sends on order to report to him. You don’t get to leave until he thinks you’re okay, regardless of what the doctors say.

Geras doesn’t need sleep, but that doesn’t mean he is unaware of the importance of it. When you stay up with him to bond over the hourglass and timelines, it’s fun… At first. But when you keep doing it day after day and night after night, he hints at your depleted energy as of late. You may brush it off, but he looks into what this could mean for you. Ideally, he stops it one way or another before it could get worse.

Havik thinks it a major nuisance, and it mostly wouldn’t stop him in his endeavors. He doesn’t care for how you look. When you begin to have physical complications from your exhaustion, he lets it only so far thinking you’ve got it before he himself stops it. While he bounds you to the bed until you sleep, he’s out doing what he normally does best. He comes straight back to you, though, but don’t mention it at all to him. He doesn’t want something so tame like that exposed.

Johnny Cage would innocently comment on how you look the moment it started to show. It would start an argument from how agitated you’ve been lately, sure, but he says it’s out of concern (and love) for you. He gives you just about anything that could help you sleep. If you get ill from not being able to, he makes you see a doctor. Either that, or he “has some ideas that could tire you out”. You roll tired eyes, whatever that means.

Kenshi would also note your sullen look if he sees it [through sento], but much more cordially and obviously a lot more genuinely concerned. He doesn’t mind if he should stay home and cuddle to sleep at all, and it makes him a little sad when you turn him down. When you eventually get sick from your habits, he argues with you briefly as soon as you’re sentient again, but becomes your ultimate schedule reminder. You scared him half to death.

Kitana pulled you aside, even going as far as to get you excused you from your duties for a moment so that you could get some rest. When you fall ill from it she wants updates on your health even if you’re stagnant. She offers you certain herbal remedies to encourage sleep, and gets you a spa day so that you could look a little bit better than what you did before (and hopefully encourage you to sleep). News of your troubles don’t leave where you stay, and she’s discreet about it so you do not get embarrassed amongst your peers. Rumors are dispelled with the quickness.

Kuai Liang worries about you first, gets information second, and then makes a solution last. He listens to you talk about your problems sleeping when you eventually fall ill from the lack. He feels somewhat guilty for not checking on you as you are in his arms every night, but he feels that brainstorming with you and those who are experienced in health a plan that would help you recover is the best apology even though you remind him it’s not his fault. You’ll be required to rest, and he’ll make sure you do before he ever gets any sleep at all.

Kung Lao notices first and foremost when you start to deny rigorous activity with him. It’s only then does he realize how exhausted you look, and for once he gets serious and somewhat selfless. He fights off any of the ill feelings with medicine, all while getting you to do things not too strenuous on your body so that it gets you tired enough to sleep (even if it was just for a minute). He spends as much time needed until it goes away entirely, because he’s relentless like that and not the type to give up or leave you to it. And sometimes, when he’s trying to get you to sleep, he accidentally makes himself fall asleep.

Liu Kang already knows before it gets too late to find out, so it’s no use hiding it from him. He personally clears your schedule somehow, and if you want to work, you can’t. He’s upset with you because of how he found out you haven’t been sleeping, not because you haven’t been sleeping. He makes you prove that you are able-bodied enough to start moving around again when you insist that you can; he begins to check for you at night, having fixed a sleep schedule for you to follow. He complies if you need help sleeping again, and only leaves to return to the hourglass once you’re fast asleep.

Li Mei is the utmost level about it. After you get sick by it, she’s perfectly rehearsed and practiced, but doesn’t enjoy when others franticness starts to impede on her moves. Eventually, your comfort lie solely in her and her quarters instead of some royal infirmary or hospital. She accommodates for you, and covers for you if there are others checking for you elsewhere. She knows a thing or two about exhaustion, so she makes great efforts to help you sleep regularly from now on.

Mileena hardly leaves your side. When you collapse from your breathlessness, Princess!Mileena forgets that she’s not yet Empress. The stress does eventually get to her and it hikes up her symptoms of Tarkat, so once she bounces back from it, she immediately asks about you. She may pull away to engage in her royal duties, but she gets them done quickly and comes back to you as both Empress and Princess. She even bathes in some sort of relaxing herb so that when you both cuddle, you’ll be more prone to falling asleep.

Nitara scours her people’s remedies for a cure. It took her some time, but it doesn’t matter—it doesn’t really work anyway. You’re still tired and ill. As she searches for remedies she brings up the topic of being immortal; she doesn’t press if you deny. She asks a few of her more trusted coven members to look over you when she’s away, and she’s there in an instant when you so much so think of her.

Quan Chi is disappointed, but he helps anyway. He deals more in death and whatnot, but he knows a thing or two about the health of self. He does what he knows best, and if need be, he does great research before making a move. Whenever he feels annoyed from your stubbornness to sleep, that’s when he scolds you for being so reckless. But he wouldn’t let you go unattended.

Raiden chastises you all the way to the infirmary. You’d collapse mid-conversation, unable to breathe and now his hearts racing. When you end up okay, he wants to know what’s going on immediately. He tries not to be so upset with you, but he does everything in his power to help you. Herbal teas, medicine, gentle work over a span of hours—everything. He keeps using what he sees works best. He’s your alarm now and he forces you to sleep when he does; if he could stare at you until you fell asleep he would, but that’s counterproductive.

Rain gently taps you on the head with his staff when you look out of it. He gets annoyed when he’d have to keep doing it, and eventually confronts you. He gives you solid advice if he can’t do it himself, and he checks up on you very often. He feels a sense of shame and guilt from not being more concerned with you and more with his work, and for mindlessly hitting you in the head when you obviously weren’t feeling well. He’s unsure of how to make it up to you, but he’ll get it eventually if you don’t tell him.

Reiko acts as your personal guard already, and it’s only worsened when you can hardly function. One by one does he get some of his more insignificant duties off of him so that he has more time with you. If General Shao knows, he may offer some sort of help. Reiko sometimes makes himself late to duty so that he can take care of you, until he’s sure you’ll be fine on your own for an entire day. He sometimes comes back to you in the middle of duty, when things are boring and he can sneak away, and he helps you get as much sleep as possible from then on.

Shang Tsung makes a snide remark before casting some sort of spell on you to sleep. Before, he’d just made some sort of joke about how tired you look and smothers you with slightly sardonic pet names, but the total 180 when you couldn’t breathe could kill someone. It’s the most emotion he’s shown other than his usual in so so long, and once you’ve come to your senses he practically threatens you to get better. He’d help here and there, but your recovery is reduced to a side hustle over time.

Sindel first noticed when you became lackluster in your work. She confronted you firmly, and only backed off when you assured her that you could continue working. When she caught wind you had ended up in the medics hands, she focused on fixing you first before confronting you on your lie. She’d be hurt, at first, and she temporarily relieves you from your work. You’ll have your own private quarters if you haven’t already, and more luxury that she thinks will help you feel better. Even if you apologize, she’s already made up a reason why you did it and accepts that. However, you’re required to see her now.

Syzoth genuinely starts to act beside himself even at the first sign of complication. He searches all the land for remedies for your kind, and comes back to you to help heal you whether or not he’s successful. Outside of remedies he initiates naps, cuddles and everything nice that would get you to sleep. Deep purrs from his chest as a lullaby. He’s constantly monitoring you when you’re up and active, clinging to your side. When he thinks that you’ve been out for too long, he insists to go back to sleep some more.

Tanya covers for you before you even know. Your lack of sleep makes you overlook things, and she’s been trailing behind you and fixing your mishaps. She’s meant to confront you, and when you collapse before her unable to breathe it’s as if she already knows what to do. When you’re lying in her bed recovering from the incident, she tells you what she’s going to do—it’s not an open ended choice.

Tomas Vrbada is far too observant. He may be busy with Hanzo, but that doesn’t mean he can’t check for you. He pesters you as you get tireder and tireder each day, and eventually catches you up and not sleeping. It sprouts the conversation of your sleeping habits and he’s overall sympathetic to your guilt. He doesn’t let it get to the point of you being sick; and if for some reason it does, he’s already right there to help you (even if his heart is going a million miles an hour). He begins to stop working later so that you eat, sleep and do routines on time.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info

#mortal kombat x reader #bi han x reader #baraka x reader #general shao x reader #geras x reader #havik x reader #johnny cage x reader #kitana x reader #kung lao x reader #liu kang x reader #mileena x reader #raiden x reader #reiko x reader #shang tsung x reader #syzoth x reader #tomas vrbada x reader #vampirzina #kenshi takahashi x reader

[skiiyoomin]

hi!! can we have an m jealousy fic with tobias eaton from divergent please <3 thank you!!

Hii, sorry for the late reply! I hope you enjoy this :))

p.s it might be a little crusty cause its been a while since I read the books BUT i still hope you enjoy it!

warnings: jealous Tobias, smut!! possessive Tobias

RULES !!

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK PLEASE

REQUESTS: OPEN

NAVIGATION

WHO DO I WRITE FOR?

Summary: When a new Dauntless initiate gets a little too close, Tobias takes things into his own hands.

--------------------------------------------

You're mine | Tobias Eaton

His eyes continuously drifted towards your figure, a scowl etched deep onto his skin as you laughed, clutching your stomach.

Tobias loved your laugh, it was the sound that made his heart swell, the cause of his love struck smile. But those were the last things he felt at the moment, because he wasn't the reason for that laugh. Instead, it was one of the new initiates in Dauntless, a young boy with a charm that had girls and boys all over him.

While you and Tobias were in charge of training said initiates, he had seemed to take a liking towards you, often hanging around you during your training sessions, asking for advice as a way to get close to you, and more often than not, trying to lead the conversations to something more than just trainer to trainee.

Tobias was far from insecure about your relationship, but he couldn't help but feel his nerves rise each time he saw the younger boy move a tad bit too close for his liking, his dashing smile widening every time he pulled even the smallest of smiles from you.

While you weren't extremely open about your relationship, it was clear you were together. Now the boy either didn't know or didn't care. Of course, Tobias was too prideful to admit he was jealous of him, he'd rather kiss Eric than admit it out loud. However, he truly didn't need to say anything for anyone to know he was envious. The deep scowl and deadly glare were a dead give away.

But, the boy was oblivious to the sharp pair of eyes on the back of his head. He continued pushing his luck, using his smooth words to sway you. You, on the other hand, merely snorted at his attempts, finding them more entertaining than alluring. Unlike him, you weren't unaware of the eyes inspecting you, you didn't have to turn around to know it was Tobias. You knew the second the boy got too close he'd be jealous, hence the reason why you never put a stop to his flirting. Smirking to yourself, you counted down the minutes until your boyfriend would snap.

Almost as if on cue, you heard the loud stomping of boots on the hard ground of the wide room. You felt a large calloused hand snake around your waist, the tall figure of Tobias standing next to you, his glare burning into the initiate, making the boy cower in fear.

"Last time I checked flirting with my girlfriend wasn't part of the training. If I didn't know any better i'd think you're trying to get kicked out of Dauntless"

The younger stammered, fear and shock stopping his ability to speak. Finally he managed to mumble a loud sorry, scurrying away almost immediately. You watched the whole ordeal go down with an amused smile on your lips. As you looked up at him, you spoke with a teasing tone in your voice.

"Geez, you didn't have to be so harsh you know"

However, you were answered with silence as Tobias took your wrist and led you down the familiar halls of the compound. Soon enough you were in front of your shared apartment door. Swiftly, Tobias unlocked it, gently pushing you in and leading you towards your king sized bed. Without any words said, he pressed his lips to yours. As you broke from the kiss, he softly pushed you down until you were sprawled on the mattress, looking up at him with those eyes. The eyes that have him weak in the knees, the eyes that has his cock twitching in his pants.

He once again kissed you, this time with much more fervor and eagerness. Soon after, he trailed his kisses down your jaw, kissing the spots he knew had you gasping and squirming underneath him. "I'm gonna show everyone exactly who you belong to" He mumbled against your neck, before suckling the soft flesh, a purple mark appearing almost immediately.

The intensity of the moment had you both quickly removing your clothes until you were both left in nothing but your underwear. Tobias continued to leave a trail of hickeys until he reached the hem of your panties. Before you knew it, they joined the piles of clothes on the floor, leaving you completely bare underneath his lustful gaze. "So beautiful" he whispered, making a pinkish blush spread across your cheeks at the sudden praise.

Tobias lowered his boxers, his hard dick springing out, slapping his toned abdomen. He gripped your hips, lifting you up slightly until you you were aligned with his long length. Without wasting a second, he pushed into your tight hole, groaning at the feeling of your plush walls against his cock. He thrusted back in with a roughness that had you throwing your head back in pleasure. He fell into a quick and rough pace, slamming with a force that had your brain go fuzzy from the pleasure. You moaned incoherent words as he quickened his pace, your nails scratching down his back, leaving marks that were sure to be there for days. Tobias hissed in both pleasure and pain.

He lifted your legs onto his shoulders allowing him to thrust deeper until he was slamming into your g-spot. Your back arched as your jaw hung open forming a loud moan that was sure to be heard from miles away. Not long after, you felt the familiar tightness in your stomach, signaling your close release.

"F-fuck fuck Tobias, i-i'm gonna cum"

He grunted in response, feeling his own orgasm reaching its climax. With a few more sloppy thrusts, you rolled your eyes to the back of your head, a flash of white blinding your vision as you reached your high, your legs shaking involuntarily. Tobias continued slamming into you before his own release pulled him over the edge, his load of cum shooting inside your soft wall, spilling down your aching hole once he pulled out.

Pants filled the room as you both came down from.your high until you caught your breaths. He leaned down, pressing a much softer kiss in comparison to before. A few moments after, he pulled away, your lips centimeters from each other. He looked deep into your eyes before saying "You're mine, never forget that"

#headcanons #masterlist #oneshot #divergent four #four divergent #divergent series #divergent #divergent oneshots #divergent smut #divergent tobias #tobias eaton x reader #tobias eaton imagine #tobias eaton smut #tobias eaton #tobias eaton oneshot #tobias smut #books #book x reader #book fanfic #divergent fanfiction #divergent masterlist

[kalamity-jayne]

Sorry for asking but I am a cis male teenager (well, I thought I was.) but lately I have realized I think I might be a trans girl? I am very scared to drop my masculinity. How did you find out you were trans if that’s okay to ask?

Of course it's ok! I am always happy to help someone who is questioning their gender. However, this is actually a pretty loaded question, because while there is a lot of talk about "when my egg cracked" in trans circles, figuring out you're trans isn't always attributable to any one singular event. Some folks might crack through and emerge from their egg in one swift motion but that is not true for everyone, it certainly wasn't true for me. Sure I could tell about the moment the first crack in my shell appeared, but a single crack in the egg is a far cry from actually breaking out. For many it's a process that can involve a series of revelations and tends to require lots of self reflection and learning how to love yourself. So, there is no quick and easy answer for this. However, I think my story will have a number of different lessons relevant to your question.

Before getting into all that though, I feel I must point out that cisgender folks rarely ask themselves these kinds of questions and when they do entertain these thoughts it's brief and comes with very little agony. The fact you have gone so far as to reach out to trans woman for advice, the fact the you are clearly worried by the prospect of being trans, is a pretty clear indicator that you probably are trans. Regardless of whether you actually are transgender or not, I want you to know that either way, it's ok. You will be ok, no matter what conclusions you come to.

Now, the story of how I figured out I was trans. Bear in mind, the first “aha moment” was 20 yrs ago and things were very different back then. I was about 17yrs old at the time and the term transgender didn't have the currency then that it does now, there wasn't the robust set of terminology that we have today, there were far fewer resources to turn to, no social media, and the overall public opinion was significantly more hostile towards anything LGBT. Anyway, more below the cut.

I didn't follow the typical trans narrative of the time in the sense that, as a child I didn't really care about my clothes so long as my favorite cartoon characters were on 'em, I liked toys typically marketed towards boys, I looked like a boy and everyone referred to me as a boy. So I thought I was a boy. However, I do have a vague memory from early childhood, somewhere between the ages of 4-6, of sneaking into my mother’s room and stealing a pair of her satin underwear and trying it on (it surely would have been too big on me but I remember liking the texture of the fabric) and hiding it under my bed. This memory has since been confirmed during my adulthood by my brother who shared a room with me at the time and had apparently found the hidden stash.

From an early age I was explicitly shunted towards masculinity. I was regularly told to “stop acting like a girl,” and “quit crying like a girl,” and even at one point to “stop walking like a girl,” by my peers and one of my brothers. By the time I was a teenager I was doing my best to be as masculine as possible going so far as joining the highschool wrestling team, a sport that is as homophobic as it is homoerotic, and I hated every minute of it because being manly didn't feel natural to me (and it definitely didn't stop the bullying). It felt like I was trying to ice skate uphill. I fit in but only imperfectly for I was merely acting.

I was also very confused about my sexuality. I thought maybe I was gay or bisexual (turns out the latter) but that didn’t really explain what I was feeling. Around 17yrs old I got curious about transsexuals, thinking maybe the answers would be found there and hoped on to the early and oh so clunky internet. Now I knew of transsexuals conceptually but I didn't know anything about them. Sadly, pornography was really the only reliable way to actually see what a trans body looked like back then. I was stunned because the women I saw did not look at all the way I expected. I was blown away by how so many of them, genitalia aside, looked indistinguishable from cisgender women. And they were all absurdly beautiful. I felt an immediate attraction but there was something else I felt too, envy. And that realization was the first crack in my eggshell.

After that I couldn't get the thought of crossdressing out of my head. So, I dug through a box of my mother's old clothes and took a few items she no longer wore, an old white tennis skirt and a very very 70s sleeveless orange blouse. I was so comfortable in those clothes and when I looked at myself in the mirror I felt good, really good. So, I continued exploring, shaved off all of of my body hair, went to department stores that were open late at night to buy girl clothes (deathly afraid someone would recognize me), I would stay up late at night to watch HBO because at midnight they would occasionally air stuff about trans people, (I remember two documentary shorts in particular and the movie Soldier’s Girl) and I scoured the internet for more information. The internet search brought me to a website called TG list (at least I think that’s what it was called, this was 20yrs ago after all) which was a directory of resources ranging from The Breast Form Store (which still exists!), a myriad of gender identity quizzes (I took nearly every single one), and Susan’s Place.

Susan’s place was one of the few reliable places to hear from actual transgender adults. Unfortunately, while Susan's Place had a lot of useful information the forums there were full of horror stories, a never-ending supply of all the things those women had suffered. So needless to say, there was little to no positivity around transness to give me hope. I was afraid to call myself trans as a result, afraid of what it meant for my life, my future, and my physical safety (you have to remember that back then Mathew Shepard wasn’t old news, his tragedy was practically current events). So I called myself a crossdresser but for reasons I didn't understand at the time I deeply resented that label. I think deep down, no matter how much I tried to deny it and bury it, a part of knew I wanted to be a girl. So when I came out to my parents as a crossdresser and explicitly told them I wasn't trans, that I didn’t have any desire to transition to female, there was that lil voice at the back of my mind calling me a liar. That voice would follow me until my late 20s.

Coming out was a real struggle for me because not only did I think my life would literally be in jeopardy, I thought everyone would think I was making it up, having not followed the stereotypical models of transsexuality. When I came out to my parents they didn't disown me or anything but they were noticeably uncomfortable around me when I was in girl mode. At a certain point I needed their help (credit card) to buy a gaff for tucking and that was when my parents, out of a misguided desire to protect me, pushed me back into the egg. Because of their rejection I spent the rest of highschool and most of my college years trying to hold the egg together with even more denial and by doubling down on masculinity. While I did have some fun during my college years, on balance I was miserable and depressed. I chafed at my male costume and I knew I was lying to myself the entire time, and I hurt myself a great deal.

During my senior year of college I started privately dabbling with crossdressing again, the desire had been nagging at me incessantly. A short time after graduating I met my wife who accepted that side of me and she introduced me to the BDSM/kink community, and the overall culture of nonjudgmental acceptance there cracked the egg for good, because is provided spaces besides my own room where I felt safe being a girl. From that point on I slowly but surely came out of the egg, first calling myself a crossdresser, then genderfluid for awhile, then GENDA passed in NY making me an explicitly protected class and for the next 2 yrs I presented as a they/them genderqueer woman 100% full time without HRT (I was still reluctant to call myself a woman).

I wrestled a long time with the choice to go on HRT. Ultimately that was always a big stumbling block for me. Therapy had gotten me pretty far but I was still afraid of so much and was unsure I would be happy with the changes because my parents had initially rejected me as their daughter in very paternalistic fashion I struggled to trust my own instincts. I still struggle with that sometimes. Eventually, I befriended a trans woman in my neighborhood who pointed out HRT works very slowly and that it takes a long time for any permanent changes to take root. So, she suggested I give it a try and if it didn't feel right I could stop.

I was also taking gender identity quizzes again. Now most of these claim to be diagnostic and those ones a generally misogynistic garbage (they ask stupid questions like, “are you good at math?” and assign a gendered value to the answer) but I happened upon one that started with the disclaimer that it wasn't diagnostic and instead only offered questions that are good to think with. Two questions in particular were very helpful. The first asked, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up tomorrow as a girl, would you take it?" My answer was a hesitant yes, but that yes was bolstered by the next question, "If you could take a pill that would allow you to wake up as a man, in your current body, but without any dysphoria or desires to be feminine, would you take it?" My answer was an emphatic no because that would have felt like killing an important part of myself off. I then at the age of 33yrs old started HRT and 4yrs in I am incredibly happy. That was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

Now, I know that was a lot of fucking text to read but I wrote all of that because I know the prospect of maybe being a trans girl feels scary to you right now but I want to assure you that as daunting as it may seem there is so much about being a trans woman that is full of beauty and joy. I love my trans womanhood and despite the hardships, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. In fact the opposite is true. Knowing what I know now, I would give up almost everything in order to be a woman. So if you feel like you want to give girlhood a try, do it! You can take small incremental steps and you can always stop if it doesn’t feel right, either way you will gain a degree of self knowledge most cisgender people lack completely and that is absolutely priceless! Plus, unlike me when I was a teen, there’s all kinds of resources and information available to you now and an entire community of people ready to help you, and unlike the women in the forums from my past, we aren’t all gloom and doom.

As for your fear of giving up masculinity, don’t let that fear lure you into the denial trap like it did me. Denial is like quicksand, once you’re in it becomes hard to get out, the more you struggle the deeper in you go and it is so very suffocating. And the thing is, you actually don’t have to give it all up. Back when I was presenting full time as woman without HRT, I felt like I had to be ultra feminine all the time, full face of make-up, dress, heels, the whole nine yards. Now that I’m 4 yrs in with HRT I don’t feel that pressure anymore and have since reclaimed certain aspects of masculinity I actually liked. I sill like presenting high femme from time to time but these days I mostly rock a soft butch aesthetic, flannel/t-shirt, jeans and the only makeup I wear daily is just a lil bit of blush. At certain point you become comfortable and realize that gender is just a sandbox to play in and experiment. Masculine and Feminine are just concepts, they aren’t real! so regardless of being cis or trans, don’t let those mere concepts box you in! Just do what feels natural and right to you!

I hope all of that was helpful to you anon, and that at the very least you walk away from this knowing you don’t have to have all of the answers about yourself right now. Now, I don't no the particulars of your situation, so I’m happy to speak with you further if you have follow up questions, just send another anon.

Best of luck to you anon, I am rooting for you!

Big hugs,

Mother Calamity

#advice from a trans mom #Transition #HRT #Transgender #cracking the egg #ask/answer #anon #mother calamity!

[riize119]

Soulmate! Anton⋆｡𖦹°‧⊹₊ ⋆

Soulmates work in the oddest way

��� There isn't a set way to how you're supposed to find them or just know who is for you

• As far as you know, anyway

• Everyone else in your family either has the distinguishable mark on their body in the same place as their soulmate, or were given a time and place to be that suddenly appeared whenever the universe decided that they were ready

• You, on the other hand, had not even a single clue

• But you didn't mind

•You thought that it was kinda boring to just know who it is anyway

• Where was the adventure? The thrill of piecing it all together for yourself?

• Of course, there's always the problem that you get it wrong and have to try again but

• Whatever!!

• Right?

• As for Anton, he's been in shock ever since he was ten years old

• A rare soulmate story for some couples ends up being that one has known forever while the other had no idea

• In this case, it’s you having no idea.

•Anton, knowing, and being terrified to tell you for almost a decade

• It probably wouldn't have been such an issue if you two weren't best friends throughout your entire childhood

• He often doubted that you were his soulmate, only because you just seemed to show zero interest in him in t h a t way

• But you only did that to not be selfish

• You liked Anton. Actually, you loved him

• He was your closest friend and no matter what the situation was, your spirits were always bright and happy whenever you were with him

• You always heard that those kind of feelings were perpetual whenever you were with your soulmate, so you found yourself wondering if Anton could be yours

• But years have passed with no hint towards it being true, so you pushed the intruding thoughts away every time you saw him

• You were content with just being friends though

• And oddly content with not finding your soulmate if you were happy enough with the friendship and life you already had

• Which made Anton worry

• The simple solution would be to just tell you the truth

• Pros: you two are soulmates and live happily ever after

• Cons: the universe messed up and that turns out to be a big joke and it's his fault for messing things up

• Now, he knows that's elaborate, but still can't help but question why you've never asked him yet

• So here comes the help of Sohee, the "golden boy" of your trio, as you both like to say

• He always has the best advice and outlook for everyone around him, so what better thing to do than ask him about this?

• The only thing is is that he already can see that you two are meant for each other

• Neither of you had said a single thing about it, though. Not until Anton’s last thread of hope started to fray

• "So.. you've known for several years...”

• "Yes"

• “And you haven't said a single thing to them?"

• “Right"

• "Well why not?"

• "Because I don't know if they're my soulmate"

• “…”

• And Sohee just stares at him for a while before nodding his head and continued eating

• Because “how else am I supposed to help Anton if Anton won't believe first?”

• So, Sohee apologizes to the universe for interfering with the work of fate first before talking to you

• He hates seeing his friends in this position, especially if it's an issue regarding their entire life

•And he texts you randomly

• “You never talk about it, but I wanna know. Who do you have a crush on?"

• Getting the notification scares you because???

• Why would he suddenly ask you this?

• But you still reply,

• "We can't have crushes, remember?"

• In which he comes back with

• "We're only human. We have crushes, so who's yours?"

• Some time passes before you say anything, quickly becoming anxious

• You've never felt scared to talk about Anton before, so why now?

• "You can't tell Anton...”

• And you explain every bit and ounce of your feelings for him to Sohee, who is smiling so wide on the other end (as he screenshots every message and sends them to Anton in real time

• Who then proceeds to panic

• Even though it's confirmed that you definitely are his soulmate, he's scared that you'll be mad for not telling him sooner

• And also mad at the fact that Sohee told him after you asked him not to

• So the next time you see Anton, he looks almost queasy from how much he's holding in It worries you, so you just ask

• "Are you gonna be okay? You don't look well...”

• He stares back for a while, not really processing your question and almost tuning out the entire world to focus on what he had to tell you before it really made him sick

• He couldn't even hear himself when he told you, his mouth going on autopilot until he saw your reaction

• Not the reaction he was expecting though

• Seeing you smile so big and bright and then laughing at his change in expression from scared to confused still worried him, but in a different sense

• "God…..I've been waiting for you to tell me for so long!" You said, immediately going to hold both of his hands in yours

• And the shock that immediately ran through his body caused him to freeze before he could say anything to you

• The shock being that your reaction was positive after he already rehearsed your rejection

• "But…how did you already know?" he asks

• You laugh a little at how oblivious hes been all this time

• "I've always felt it. I just wanted to spare myself of embarrassment if it wasn't you and just boldly stated that it is. I should've known though...but you, on the other hand, have know this forever and still never said? Why?"

• He gets nervous again, thinking about how silly his reasoning was

• *I just didn't want it to make things awkward for us, you know?"

• You nod while smiling at him again

• "But fate makes it so that everything works in our favor. It was gonna happen sooner or later, and I guess later is now"

• Finally getting a smile out of Anton, he holds your hands tighter, swinging them a little, side to side, before asking his final question

• “I really do love you. Even before I knew we were soulmates, I liked you so much it was almost embarrassing..do you think that if fate didn't exist, we'd end up together still?"

• "I was already daydreaming about us being together before all of this happened, so of course” you tell him, making his expression brighter by the second

• "So now that it's official, we've gotta go tell Sohee thank you" he said, standing up and holding just one of you hands now to lead the way

• "..he sent you my confessions, didn't he?"

• "Let's not worry about that until another time"

#anton #riize au #riize anton #riize imagines #riize x reader #riize fluff #riize #riize soulmate au #kpop imagines #anton imagines

[goodluckclove]

I've been meaning to say something. (100 follower hot take)

Hey! Thanks for stopping by. I hope you've had a nice day. Why don't you rest with me for a while? I made some chocolate chip cookies - with shortening instead of butter, so they're very soft and very chocolatey. I made way too many and they aren't my wife's favorite, so I could use some help in eating them.

You're probably a writer, right? Or maybe you think about how you could be. Browse the tags here, or on other social media platforms. Maybe you used to write stories as a kid. I bet those were fun. Teachers might've thought they were impressive, or they dissected them line by line until the words didn't make sense in your head anymore. Either way, if you're here you're probably here for a reason.

(rant alert)

I dipped a toe in online writing communities on and off. My last attempt was forty-five minutes scrolling through the writing hashtag on Youtube Shorts (so TikTok, I guess? I don't know). I didn't like it. I really didn't. The thing that sticks out the strongest in my mind is one particular video where a woman claims that every story needs a second act plot twist.

Huh? Every story? All of them? Why? Since when? Who are you? What qualifications do you have to make a statement like that?

That's the common thread that makes a lot of writing spaces very uncomfortable for me. Successful writers are really only successful in their genre and for the given moment, so they don't have that much objective authority in the craft. And yet I see a lot of people deciding the things that you can't do in writing. Or the things you have to do, and how you have to do them. It was so much of Writeblr at first glance that I almost dipped out once again. I didn't, though, and I'm glad I didn't because now I get to watch some of the next great storytellers from across the world grow and examine and forge their way forward.

No one can teach you how to write. No, that's not true. Teachers teach literacy. Handwriting. Typing maybe - do schools still teach typing? Let me try saying it in a different way - no one, not one single person on this goddamned planet, has the right to tell you how to make a story.

I was supposed to get my MFA in creative writing before my first breakdown. My uncle stayed in the program I was meant to be in, and a few years after I dropped out he graduated. Recently I had the thought to look up his thesis novella, and as I searched I found myself regretting my decision to leave school. If I stayed and got to develop my writing in an actual class, with other writers and a knowledgeable professor, how much further along would I be than where I am right now?

It was bad. His novella was terrible. It was so bad I had a small existential crisis for, like, three days. He spent so much money on years and years of professional education and came out with a truly soulless story that read as if you prompted an AI to write the next Great American Novel. So if you think you need a writing degree to be a legitimate author, it could help connections-wise, but it ultimately won't be the thing that does the work for you.

Not all advice I see online on writing is bad. I find the people who are able to capture the "I" statements of therapy and phrase advice as things that have worked for them, or things that they personally enjoy, to be fine. Some writing advice can spark inspiration.

But if someone is the type of person to boil every story down to troupes and cliches, and then immediately say that every story that uses the trait they don't like is automatically bad for everyone? I'm dropping the kindness for a second - that's trash. That's a trash take and I see far too many writers use it as a reason to stop before they begin.

I don't like whump. I say my reasons in previous posts if you go back through my blog. But you will never hear me say that any story with whump in it is bad, because I don't know that. You might prove me wrong. I am an adult human being and I have the humility to admit that I can like something I didn't expect to. I genuinely enjoy the direction of The Human Centipede (only the first one) and if you cringed just now that probably means you haven't seen it.

There are so many types of books and movies and plays and comics out there. To enjoy a specific genre is fine, to ignore the existence of everything else is a really, really, really odd thing to do. Maybe someone will hate your story because they think everything should be Neil Gaiman, and therefore have no way to understand your epistolary high-Western. You are not the wrong end of that situation just for existing.

And at there is a definite threshold on how many writing tips you can gather before they stop being useful. If you find them interesting, that's one thing. That's fine. But if the culture of creativity online has made you feel like you need to educate yourself on every possible angle before you can write a story, you are actively harming yourself.

Imagine taking the level of structure you put on yourself in that way and putting it on children playing pretend in the backyard. Oh, Susie, don't you know that it's overdone for your Kitsune have dead parents? Xyler, shouldn't you ask someone else before you decide how Spiderman would react to this? It would make no sense and they do not need it. Kids will make a whole world out of nothing and it's the most fucked thing in my heart that at some point they get access to Reddit and dipshits start insisting that's wrong.

They aren't wrong and you aren't either. Your favorite creative influencer can't tell you your story, strangers on the internet can't tell you your story, your teachers and loved ones can't tell you your story. They can influence it, but they can't write it honestly the way you can.

You do that. That's the thing you do.

Man that makes me upset. I can't tell you how to make a story, either. If anyone sends me asks for writing advice the most I'll do is say what I've done before hopping into your DMs and starting a direct conversation. it's so personal to each individual artist, and I'd like to think that the people selling these classes and software and promoting these platforms haven't thought about that before. Otherwise it does feel manipulative. If you have a willingness to practice and imagine and really experiment with the possibilities, you are ready to write your story.

And if it doesn't work? Try again. That's what you do.

Stephen King has written roughly a thousand books and maybe five of them have decent endings. He is unimaginably successful.

I'm rambling now. I think I got that out of my system. I was really worried to say this out of fear of being too weird or somehow reverse-gatekeeping so hard that it circles back into also being a bad thing. I've just spoken to a lot of people who I still think of throughout my day, and I truly ache for them to get past the fear of creation. Because it's worth it. It's worth it and it's fun, even when it's messy and you're tired.

Let it Be just came on. Beatles. I haven't listened to The Beatles in a long time. Feels a little apropos.

I love you, reader. Reader, Writer, Colleague. Take care of yourself. Especially the little you, still sitting there in the backyard of your soul, bathing in the sun with their bare feet in the damp earth.

Consider joining them, maybe.

#writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #queer writers #authors of tumblr #on writing #writing #actually writing #writing resources #writing tips #writing help #writing advice #how to write #writing tips and tricks #writers supporting writers

[howtofightwrite]

Professional Monster Removal

So, you've been hired to clear out a monster (or monsters) infesting a building in (or around) a modern city. What do you do?

The first problem is that you can't trust what your client tells you. Not in the sense that you think they're intentionally lying to you, but rather, they don't know what they're talking about.

If they tell you it's a vampire, that's basically meaningless. As myths go, vampires are more of a catch all for a staggering number of monsters from folklore, and while you wouldn't want to deal with most of those critters, your options for disposing of them (or even identifying where they are in the building, and assessing how dangerous they are) are far more picky. It's a bit like working as a normal exterminator and when you ask what the client needs removed they only offer, “it's furry.” Yeah, that's not helping anyone, buddy.

Werewolves aren't much better. The modern bipedal wolf monster is basically a Hollywood invention, dating back to the mid-20th century. There's absolutely no folklore support for it. That doesn't mean that in your world that flavor of nine-foot tall snarling deathbeast isn't a reality, but it's going to be hard to research. More often, werewolves were humans who took the form of a wolf, usually through some form of magical ritual. Knowing what that ritual is would be critical to identifying and eliminating them. Of course, this does come with the problem of leaving behind a very human looking body (in some cases), and that could be an entirely different problem, depending on exactly how well job is.

If they tell you it's a demon, that's almost more worthless than telling you it's a vampire. First off, there is no way to know that they've actually got a demon, and not just some random spirit. If they do have a demon, I hope you've brushed up on your advanced theology, because this is going to get extraordinarily messy. And, there's a very real danger that whatever you've run into has the capacity for completely unmaking small parts of reality. Or it could just be an unusually malicious house cat. Really, demon is even more of a catch all term for, “something we don't understand, but we're pretty sure it scares us.”

If it's fairies? Run. Just run. You're not getting paid enough for this, they can have their deposit back. It'll be fine. They're smarter than they look, and way more malicious and vindictive than you realize.

Just walking away is also pretty good advice for any esoteric, “list of rules,” you may get handed. Sometimes, this is pretty obvious safety considerations, like don't wander around in darkened rooms while the critter is loose, but when you start seeing things like keeping to a schedule, that's a very good sign that, either, whatever you're dealing with is sophisticated enough that some simple rituals and a catch pole will not get the job done. Or, alternately, someone (probably your client) is using you as bait,  or planning to feed you to the critter. This overlaps pretty strongly with the warning about fairies above, the Venn diagram isn't a perfect circle, but there's a lot of overlap.

Now, this doesn't mean you should ignore your client, but it does mean, you're going to need to do a lot of footwork after they hire you. This is not the fun kind of research. If they say vampires, you're going to need to be conversant in the many, many, vampire myths throughout human history. Sometimes you can shoot them. Sometimes you need silver and garlic. Amusing, on the cliché of, “forget all you know about vampires...” there is one element of folklore that actually doesn't exist; vampires don't need your permission to enter a dwelling. Now, a lot of vampires are extremely obsessive compulsive (yeah, this is the hilarious moment where you realize Sesame Street's Count has a legitimate grounding in folklore), so, they may want that invitation for psychological reasons, but it's not a mystical barrier that will protect you. Get them angry enough and they will forget themselves, cross the threshold, and rip you to pieces. (Though, in some cases, churches and temples may repel them. It goes with the holy symbols thing in general.)

That said, the holy symbols isn't specifically a vampiric vulnerability, more just a general ward against monsters, when it pops up. So, this is one to be very cautious of, but it can be useful in a lot of situations if you're receptive to that.

When you're doing your initial walk through, of the residence, keep an eye out for certain tells. You'll pick this up with practice. The direct signs of the critter are always nice, but finding secondary evidence of regarding the site's residents shouldn't be ignored. Keep an eye out for large amounts of esoterica, evidence of objects having been recently removed from the site (or recently added to it), evidence of ritualistic practices (often these will originate from the human residents themselves, rather than the critter, but, obviously, that's not always the case), and other anomalies. You're not just looking for tufts of fur, or forensic evidence, you also need to know why the critter is there.

So, you've identified your pest, hopefully. Under the best possible circumstances, you should now have a roadmap for dealing with these things. Here's the bad news, in some cases, that won't actually give you any tools to deal with it. A distressing amount of folklore will tell you how to avoid dealing with the critter in the first place but then washes its hands of what to do after the critter has been provoked.

Worse, and more frustratingly, folklore will sometimes give you bad information. Yeah, the biggest problem with folklore is, the more dangerous the critter, the less reliable your information will be. If someone offers you to clear out a nest of crawlers, my advice would be to not do it alone, and don't get too attached to the people you work with. There is no reliable folklore on those things, and 99% of the, “lore,” that does exist is internet fiction, written by people trying to spook each other out. As for sifting out that last one-in-a-hundred? Good luck.

This brushes against a related topic, you cannot trust research you pull off the internet. Obviously, things are a little different when you're digging through well documented myths, but when you start getting into more esoteric topics, the signal to noise ratio hops off a cliff. This doesn't mean the internet is useless, it can be useful for a brief overview (if you have the time to sort things out), and of course it's amazing for communicating with your colleagues. However, expect that when you need to dig into local folklore, you're going to need to spend time in the city's libraries, digging through books no one cares enough to scan and post online. For the most part, newspapers have been saved and uploaded, though if you're in the middle of nowhere, you might run into a small town paper that hasn't kept up to date.

So, what do you need to do? Remember that your job is to remove the errant critter from the site, not necessarily kill it. (Try to avoid those stipulations when you can. It can result in really unfortunate situations when you're dealing with something that literally cannot die.) Prioritize elimination in cases where the creature cannot be moved, or will return to the site regardless what you do, but remember you're getting paid to remove it, not to play hero, and you're certainly not getting paid enough to die over a spelling error in someone's circle of protection.

This brushes against a (hopefully) rare problem; amateurs. Yeah, it doesn't matter how much research you do, if your perfectly baited trap gets trampled by some bumpkins who broke in with shotguns and flashlights because they heard some monster was on the loose. Mercifully, these guys are a self-solving problem more often than not. If the critter kills them, then they're not your problem. In some rare cases, amateurs can even be useful, either as bait, or as a new vessel to get the critter off the site and make it a problem for someone else. If that sounds callous, remember that between their poor trigger discipline, misplaced hero complex, and unpredictability, they're more dangerous to you than the monster you're trying to evict. Sure, a century old specter that preys on hope is going to be harder to kill, but these guys are just dumb enough to shoot you in the head if you startle them. Or if they get it in their heads, somehow, that you're the one responsible for the infestation in the first place.

If you're, “lucky,” enough to get repeat business, that's probably a bad thing and the client is not going to be happy about it. In these specific cases, (assuming it's actually a new critter, and not a case where the original one wandered home after being released somewhere distant), your priority changes to identifying what brought the creature back here. Some critters are extremely territorial, and will return home no matter what you do (these are times when you really do need to find a way to permanently eliminate it.) However, if various critters of the same variety found the place appealing, presumably independently of one another, then you need to identify why. Again, this going to take some research, and you might even need to bring in a specialist (if you have access to one.) These kinds of situations can be really frustrating because the client is likely to be pissed with you over the new infestation, and believe its due to your incompetence, not because they didn't disclose critical information the first time round.

Checking city records regarding the place, even land claims and the history of a place become significantly more important on a return visit. (Now, if you're being thorough, you should have checked this the first time, and sometimes you'll even have time to, but if we're being honest, that stuff is rarely relevant, and you won't often have the time to dig through city records.) On the bright side, in the 21st century, a lot of those kinds of records are now available online, and free, so the days of wandering around in some sub-basement of city hall are (mostly) a thing of the past.

This is just napkin math, but figure that about one in four infestations can be traced back to a human cause. Either someone moved into the critter's territory and it's trying to drive them out, someone did something “very bad” and now they have a critter focused on them, or (worst of all), someone deliberately brought the critter here, lost control of it, and now wants you to remove it. The first two can result in repeat business if you simply remove (or even eliminate) the infestation, first time around. The third can also result in repeat business as well, but with a critical tell, the client's going to be fine with bringing you back. This isn't necessarily a red flag, but it is something to be cautious of.

Note that, in cases where the critter is focused on hunting down a specific individual, it may be in your best interest to simply stay out of its way. Actively helping the creature is a major liability risk, as you'll now be implicated in their death, but again, your job was to remove the creature from the site, and if that's accomplished, you can point to your contract and move on with your day. Similarly, getting in the  critter's way can be a very bad idea. That said, there's no guarantee the critter will voluntarily leave after it's managed to satisfy whatever's driving it. So, this becomes just one more consideration you need to weigh.

So, what do you do? Pay attention to the details, identify the critter, use that information to formulate a plan, and never forget that you're not getting paid to die on the job.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon, and this post was prompted by a Patron. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

#How to Fight Write #Writing advice #writing reference #writing horror #writing urban fantasy

[fanby-fckry]

Actually, I Don’t Like Cake Either

Day 1 of Ace Alastor Week: Cake Day

Word Count: 1,433

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon)

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Warnings: Spoilers for Hazbin Hotel Season 1 Episode 8 The Show Must Go On

Relationships: Alastor & Rosie (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Charlie Magne | Morningstar

Characters: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Rosie (Hazbin Hotel), Mentioned Charlie Magne | Morningstar, Mentioned Hazbin Hotel Ensemble

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant (mostly), Post-Season/Series 01, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Light Angst, Friendship, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Aromantic Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Talking, Conversations, Ace Community Inside Jokes

Series: Part 1 of Fanby’s Ace Alastor Week 2024 || Part 1 of Piece of Cake! ( || Next -> )

Summary:

“This isn’t the first cake,” Alastor confessed. “This isn’t even the second or the third! No, no, no, this is the sixth – the sixth – cake she’s given me since I returned to the hotel!”

Alastor broke into manic laughter. “I don’t even like cake!” he said. “I detest sweet things! Can’t stand them! But for some reason she Just. Keeps. Baking them!”

*

For some unknown reason, Charlie keeps baking Alastor cakes. With no sweet-tooth to speak of, nor the willpower to face Charlie’s disappointment should he turn down her gifts, Alastor seeks Rosie’s help with this dessert debacle.

Better on AO3

Alastor made his way through Cannibal Town, walking with a purpose and a cardboard pastry box.

In fact, the box was his purpose for being in Cannibal Town today.

He needed advice. And who better to ask than his dear friend Rosie?

“Alastor!” Rosie dropped everything she was doing to come rushing over to him. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! Things get so gloomy here without you!”

Alastor lifted the box above his head and out of the way as Rosie wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him in for a hug.

The movement drew Rosie’s eyes upwards, and after a moment spent embracing him, Rosie turned her attention to the box.

“What’ve we got here?” she asked.

“My reason for visiting!” Alastor announced. Then, somewhat quieter, “If I could just speak to you in private…”

“Of course, of course!” Rosie ushered Alastor away from the crowd and into one of the more secluded spaces of her emporium – the same room they’d used to discuss Rosie’s potential involvement in defending the hotel.

“Come, sit down, get comfy.” She motioned for Alastor to take the closer chair, then crossed the table to take her own seat.

Alastor did sit, but he felt far from comfortable.

“Well?” Rosie folded her hands in her lap, and Alastor felt distinctly aware of his own hands, still gripping the cardboard box. “Show me what’s in this mysterious box of yours.”

Alastor set the box on the table and opened it to reveal…

“A cake?” Rosie laughed. “Alastor, you charmer, did you bake me a cake?”

Alastor exhaled in a sigh, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Actually, Charlie did!” he said, doing his best to keep his cadence and tone in its typical Transatlantic manner. “Although she baked it for me. I just didn’t want it to go to waste and was hoping you might know of at least one demon around here with a sweet tooth!”

Rosie raised one eyebrow. “There’s more you’re not tellin’ me, dearie,” she said.

Alastor looked down at the cake. Then back up at Rosie. Then at the cake again.

Even with his smile, Rosie could read him like an open book. There was no point in trying to deceive her. And besides, he had come here to ask for her help.

“This isn’t the first cake,” Alastor confessed. “This isn’t even the second or the third! No, no, no, this is the sixth – the sixth – cake she’s given me since I returned to the hotel!”

Alastor broke into manic laughter. “I don’t even like cake!” he said. “I detest sweet things! Can’t stand them! But for some reason she Just. Keeps. Baking them!”

“And then she hands them off to me with that smile of hers and…” Alastor closed his eyes.

He didn’t tell Rosie that he’d grown fond of Charlie. That he genuinely considered her a friend and couldn’t stand the thought of seeing that smile fall. A smile that was so unlike his own: honest and true where his was a weapon, a mask, and – more often than not these days – a lie.

He didn’t need to. Because Rosie already knew.

Alastor opened his eyes and folded his hands on the table. “I just don’t want it to go to waste,” he repeated, and it was half true.

“Why don’t you give it to one of the other guests at that hotel of hers?” Rosie asked.

“Because she would know,” Alastor insisted. “Vaggie and Angel Dust would sell me out in a heartbeat! Even if I gave it to Husker or Niffty and ordered them not to tell, it would only be a matter of time before she figured it out.”

“And besides,” he added. “Niffty really shouldn’t be eating this much sugar.”

Niffty on a sugar rush was a level of chaos even Alastor struggled to endure. At one point, the tiny cyclops had eaten an entire batch of cupcakes and wound up deep cleaning Alastor’s radio tower and stabbing a dozen demons – one of which was Alastor, himself! Non-lethally, of course. Although, the same couldn’t be said for the other eleven.

“Well, what did you do with the other five?” Rosie asked.

“Opened a portal and threw them into the same dimension I summon my tentacles from,” Alastor said with a dismissive hand wave. “They’re probably rotting in there. I’m not entirely sure whether or not those abominations eat, but I’d assume that if they do, they’re carnivorous.”

Rosie shrugged. “Well, I don’t mind sweets myself,” she said. “I prefer when they’ve got a little blood baked in, of course, but I can make do.”

“Thank you,” Alastor said, relief washing over him as Rosie picked up a knife to cut herself a slice.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if she keeps this up,” he admitted.

Alastor knew what he had to do, and what would happen if he failed to do it. But he didn’t like the looks of either option.

Either Alastor was going to have to tell Charlie to stop and watch her mope around like a kicked puppy, or someone would eventually figure out that he was going out of his way to avoid disappointing her.

His reputation had already taken a massive hit after his battle with Adam – his televised defeat, his failure. He couldn’t afford to let any more evidence of weakness reach the masses.

Alastor’s inner monologue was interrupted by Rosie’s laughter.

“What?” he asked. “What’s so funny?”

Rosie stifled her laughter and put a hand on Alastor’s shoulder. “I think I might just have an answer to your dessert debacle, darling.”

“Oh?” Alastor’s ears perked up at the thought of a solution.

“Tell her you’d rather have garlic bread,” Rosie said, smiling ear to ear. “Bonus points if you use those exact words.”

Alastor tilted his head at a forty five degree angle. Garlic bread? he wondered. What does garlic bread have to do with anything?

But, he did prefer garlic bread to cake. Maybe if he could channel Charlie’s inexplicable urge to bake towards something he might actually eat, then he could have his cake and eat it too, so to speak.

“Well, it’s worth a shot!” Alastor decided. “Thank you for the advice, my dear. I may not grasp the particulars, but I trust your judgment! You always did have such a knack for these things. Why, it’s no wonder you’re Cannibal Town’s go-to gal for guidance.”

“Aww,” Rosie cooed, swatting playfully at his arm. “You’re such a flatterer. You’re gonna make me blush!”

Rosie hummed and took a bite of Alastor’s unwanted cake.

“Guess you’d better get back to that hotel and tell the Princess about the menu change before she fires up the oven again,” she said after swallowing the bite.

Alastor laughed. “Oh, I think I can stay a while,” he said. “Surely she’s gotten it out of her system for the time being.”

“You said this is the sixth cake?” Rosie asked.

“Yes,” Alastor confirmed.

“And would you say the rate she bakes them is consistent?”

“Hm,” Alastor hummed. “The first one was to celebrate my return… Then she baked another later in the month, then one about a week later… Two last week, and now…”

“Shit,” he cursed as it finally hit him. “The cakes are increasing.”

“Mhmm,” Rosie hummed. “How long did you have this one before you managed to sneak it out of the hotel?”

Alastor’s smile widened. “Well, it was great chatting with you, darling!” he said, wrapping Rosie into a hug and preparing to take his leave. “I’ll be seeing you!”

Rosie giggled. “Good to see you too, Alastor.”

She hugged him back, wished him luck, and just like that, Alastor was on his way.

Rosie speared a piece of cake onto her fork, capturing all four distinctly dyed layers – black, gray, white, and purple, in that order.

“Oh, Alastor,” she said to herself with a sigh.

If only he would stop cutting her off every time she tried to actually bring up the concepts of asexuality and aromanticism.

Rosie could make jokes and puns that flew over Alastor’s head – although not over a certain Princess’s head, apparently – day in and day out, but the minute she tried to explain the identities behind them, she was met with, ‘I don’t care for all those modern labels,’ and ‘I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me!’

Too bad, really. Alastor would probably get a kick out of aroace in-jokes. Even if he didn’t like cake.

#fanby’s fuckery #fanby’s fics #acealastorweek2024 #hazbin hotel #alastor #aroace alastor #asexual alastor #aromantic alastor #rosie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #aroace #aro #ace #aromantic #asexual

[5t4r1uv3r]

☆ Team Stan dating hcs ☆

☆ Hello everyone!! These are the first headcanons on my page, I'm so excited!! I apologize if any of these hcs seem too ooc, feedback and advice are always welcomed!!

Warnings include: projectile vomiting, pda, mentions of arguments, and mentions of death.

Characters: Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Kenny McCormick

Reader is gender neutral!! 958 words ☆

☆ You are, by far, the brightest star I've ever seen. And I never dreamed I'd be so happy that I could die - Lana Del Rey ☆

☆ Stan Marsh ☆

☆ As he’s grown older Stan’s habit of throwing up around his romantic interests has gone away. He still tends to get nauseous but you won’t have to worry about him projectile vomiting on you.

☆ The way he asked you out wasn’t any grand gesture, he slipped a note into your locker asking you to meet up with him after school. Where he confessed his feelings and asked you to be his significant other. 

☆ Stan isn’t the best when it comes to texting, he prefers to talk face-to-face or in person. So that means lots of FaceTime calls, him showing up at your home, or him asking you to go over to his. 

☆ Quality time is crucial to Stan, he wants to spend all the time he can around you. At school if you share any classes, bi-weekly dates, and hanging out when your schedules allow it. 

☆ Stan prefers to keep dates simple, opting for trips to Stark’s Pond, either on strolls or ice skating during the winter, having movie nights, and listening to music together. 

☆ Speaking of music, he has definitely written songs about you. He will also learn all of your favorite songs on guitar and will sing them to you. 

☆ Stan will not be too big on PDA, he prefers showing affection in small settings. However, if you two are out in public he’ll always have an arm around your waist. Occasionally sneaking pecks on your cheeks and forehead. 

☆ As seen in the past Stan is sensitive and jealous, so he’ll need constant reassurance and praise. 

☆ You’re the main communicator in the relationship as Stan struggles to express his thoughts with proper phrasing. It has been the cause of disagreements and fights. 

☆ Over all Stan tries his best for you, to be there for you, to help you, and to love you. 

☆ Kyle Broflovski ☆

☆ In the beginning Kyle was extremely awkward around you, having difficulty navigating his emotions after failed relationships. 

☆ Due to his experiences, it took him a while to confess his feelings to you. Trying his best to push his feelings aside yet he had many moments where he slipped up. 

☆ After gathering the courage to confess he decided the perfect way would be to write you notes, poems, and letters that he would leave in your locker. 

☆ The final note you received was to meet him at Stark’s Pond where he confessed his feelings for you. 

☆ Kyle is a hopeless romantic so he’ll give you the world. Spoiling you with anything and everything you could ever want. 

☆ He isn’t big when it comes to PDA, preferring to link arms, hold hands, and forehead kisses. 

☆ Kyle always wants dates to feel special, striving to make them as perfect as possible. From moonlight dinners to picnics with your favorite foods, reading poems or books that remind him of you, and taking you to Denver Nuggets games. 

☆ One of Kyle’s favorite ways to spend time with you is having study dates. His grades are incredibly important to him and he takes it upon himself to make sure you’re succeeding as well. 

☆ He has always had a short temper and strong beliefs, he tries to control those emotions to not hurt you or cause any spats. Kyle wants to understand your feelings and views through your eyes, so he’ll set aside his thoughts and understand you before he gets his point across.

☆ Even though he will get jealous, Kyle trusts you with all his heart. His love is for you and only you, you are his whole world. 

☆ Kenny McCormick ☆ 

☆ Kenny’s reputation as a flirt has followed him since he was a child, he hoped you didn’t view his attempts of getting close to you as that. At the beginning he viewed it as such, but as he got to know you better his feelings developed. 

☆ Kenny was very straightforward with his crush on you, he toned down his flirting and playboy nature. Wanting to show you that he only had eyes on you. 

☆ Taking steps back he planned how to woo you, dividing his attention and actions solely on you. Kenny vowed no matter how long it took you to understand his feelings he would wait for you, even if you would reject him.  

☆ The day you accepted Kenny’s love was the best day of his life. 

☆ His economic situation made it so he had to be creative to display his affection, he truly wanted to give you the world. This includes acts of service, making you trinkets, giving you flowers from a nearby garden, and saving up his money to get you nicer presents. 

☆  Kenny is huge when it comes to PDA, he has to have a hand on you whenever you’re around. He especially loves having his hand on the curvature of your back nearing your ass. If you’ll allow him, he's making out with you, anywhere and everywhere. 

☆ Cuddle or hug him from behind and he will melt in your arms. If you’re not hugging him, Kenny is hugging you at any chance he gets. 

☆  Dates consist of talking at Stark’s Pond, late-night drives, stargazing in the woods, or spending time in your bedroom. 

☆  Kenny is incredibly selfless, often putting your needs and emotions above his. To many life is the most precious gift, but after dying so many times he realizes that the most precious gift is the people in his life. You and Karen being the most important ones. 

☆ Kenny loves you to hell and back and to heaven and back. Quite literally.

#south park #south park fluff #south park x you #south park x y/n #south park x reader #south park headcanons #south park stan #south park kyle #south park kenny #stan marsh #kyle brovlofski #kenny mccormick #sp stan #sp kyle #sp kenny #kenny mcormick x reader #stan marsh x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #stan marsh x you #kyle broflovski x you #kenny mcormick x you #kenny mccormick x you #stan marsh x y/n #kyle broflovski x y/n #kenny mcormick x y/n #kenny mccormick x y/n #stan marsh headcanons #kyle broflovski headcanons #kenny mcormick headcanons #kenny mccormick headcanons

[rhoorl]

Delta Landscaping

Chapter 1: Welcome to Torrey Hills

It's here.

Series Summary: In this Triple Frontier AU, the boys start a landscaping business post-Colombia.  

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (18+). Not this chapter necessarily, but a blanket statement to this whole concept.

Chapter Summary: As much as we want to get to the thirst, there is some setup we need to do.

A/N: I first have to thank the amazing @goodwithcheese because, without The Layover, this idea would not have come to life. This entire concept was born from a scene in one of her chapters. 

This AU stays true to cannon in some aspects (Tom is dead y'all) and not in others (the boys kept some of the money and Frankie does not have a kid). There is a main storyline, but also opportunities for extras/drabbles/asks … maybe a guest post or spin-off? I've included some Easter eggs and jokes throughout, some more obvious than others. From its conception this has been a group project, so let’s keep that energy going!

Finally, a big thank you to @gemmahale (our Technical Supervisor for all things plants and protective wear) and @trulybetty (the creator of our logo) for listening to my ramblings and for their advice and encouragement along the way! @patti7dc also contributed a hilarious idea for a commercial that had me cracking up.

Ok enough of my rambling, on with the show…(I hope you like it!)

_____________________

There's something kind of magical about when an idea finally comes together in your mind. Different thoughts, images, and words swim around in your head, some of them unconsciously, until they finally coalesce in the depths of your brain and bubble up. Going from abstract to clear and defined.

Benny had been grappling with forming an idea for months. It was right there, he could feel it. But it frustrated him because it never came together the right way. 

_____________________

Nine months earlier

In the immediate aftermath of Colombia, the Delta Force boys tried to process what happened, each in their own way. Santiago took off for a few months traveling on his own, finding solace in discovering new places. Frankie came back with a renewed focus to get his life together, talking to a therapist Will recommended to him and going to weekly meetings. The more quiet and reserved one of the group, Will continued to find ways to help other veterans. He volunteered at the local VA and shuttled veterans to and from medical appointments. He found driving to be soothing for him – having a set path, a direction to go in, and accomplishing something. Sometimes his passengers wanted to talk, sometimes they didn’t. He was comfortable either way.

And then there was Benny. He needed to keep his body in motion to try and silence the whirl that went on in his head. Fighting helped. He continued training, getting booked for local fights in Tampa, sometimes making it over to Orlando or as far as Jacksonville. At first, it helped him numb some of the pain. He felt like dealing with physical injuries was easier than his mental or emotional ones.

When he wasn't fighting or training, he found himself returning to a love he had as a kid – drawing. At first, he didn't really draw anything in particular, just doodles. But eventually, his doodles started to form beautiful landscapes and vistas…pulling inspiration from places he had seen during his time in the service. The activity brought him a sense of calm, using his hands to concentrate and make something. It didn't have to be perfect or beautiful, it just was.

Months passed and the guys just sort of existed in this newfound reality. None of them really talked about Colombia to each other, leaving the hurt and pain largely unspoken. Benny, Will, and Frankie would see each other often throughout the week. Santiago would FaceTime occasionally depending on where he was in the world. Although the guys kept some of the money from their mission, none of them had really spent it. Benny never did end up buying that Ferrari.

One day while driving back home to the apartment he shared with his brother, Will decided to take a detour to drive through a few different neighborhoods. He and Benny tossed around the idea of buying a house together, even going so far as visiting some open houses together to check things out.

This neighborhood, Torrey Hills, was particularly beautiful, with a palm tree-lined entrance and expansive water fountain greeting you on the drive in. Will aimlessly drove around taking in the Mediterranean-style architecture. Lots of two-story homes, stucco and white brick, raw iron and metalwork. There were some ranch-style homes sprinkled throughout as well. He noticed one in particular that had a for sale sign – 319 Mulefall Court.

Parked on the street, he grabs his phone to do some quick research. He checks on the price of the house first, a lot lower than he was expecting just based on the looks of the neighborhood, which he confirms once he looked up some recently sold homes nearby.

"What's wrong with you?" He mumbled toward the house, wondering why it was valued so much lower than everything around it.

The housing market in Tampa was pretty competitive, something Will and Benny had already realized. Oftentimes by the time they found a house they both liked it was already under contract or had multiple offers. They conveniently kept the fact that they could pay cash for literally any house they wanted from their realtor; they wanted the house they chose to be special.

Will continued looking over the specs of the house. Four bedrooms, two and a half baths. Two-car garage. Pool. Pretty spacious backyard from the photos and from what he could see from the street. A beautiful, old oak tree in the front yard. He noticed there weren't too many photos of the interior of the house or much of a description. 

Normally, he would text a listing to Benny to get his thoughts, but this time he went straight to calling the realtor’s number on the sign. The realtor, Ethan, picked up and was a bit surprised someone wanted to talk to him about that property. It had been sitting for a couple of months without an offer, so Ethan was eager to set up a showing for the next day.

When he arrived home, Will saw Benny sitting at their kitchen table, head down over his notebook with a pencil in hand.

“Hey man, what’re you doing?”

“Nothing just got an idea for something,” Benny said, not looking up.

Will heads to the refrigerator to pull out a beer, grabbing one for his brother as he goes to sit down in the chair across from him.

“D’you have a good day?” Benny asks, putting down his pencil and grabbing the beer from Will.

“Yea, Mr. Jacobs seems to be doing better.” Will pauses to take a swig of his beer. “So…I saw a house today.”

“What?”

“Well, from the outside. I have a showing tomorrow morning if you want to go.”

“Yea, where is it?”

“You know that Torrey Hills neighborhood? It’s in there.”

“Wooo, that neighborhood is nice! Are you sure you want to go all fancy?” 

“It is a nice neighborhood for sure, it seems quiet. This place looks like it needs … some work.”

“How much work?” Benny is a bit skeptical of what his brother may be getting them into, but trusts that Will wouldn’t do anything too rash. 

“It’s going to be a project.”

“A project? 

“Yea. The house has been sitting for a couple of months,” he said as he fished out his phone from his back pocket, pulled up the listing, and handed it over to Benny. “Look, I figure we go in and take a look to see how bad it is. You know how much shit we built with Dad back in the day. We can even call Joel to see if he thinks it's doable for us to fix it up ourselves.”

Benny looks up from the phone and gives a little smile as he hands the phone back, “Sure, man. Sounds good.”

Will and Benny could buy any house. But rather than buy something brand new, they wanted to buy a house they knew needed a lot of love and care. They wanted little projects they could work on, either together or by themselves. 

______________________________

As the guys walked through the threshold of the house with Ethan in tow, they realized they may be biting off more than they can chew with this place.

“Shit, how long has this place been empty?” Benny asks as he looks around. 

“Well, the house was built in the ’90s and had the same owner for about 20 years before it became an Airbnb,” Ethan said as leaned on the kitchen counter. “Then, some guy bought it, trying to do some real HGTV-type shit in here. Bought it before the pandemic, but didn’t realize how much work goes into a complete flip, you know? It’s not like the TV shows. Anyway, he ended up getting in over his head with it and then the foreclosure happened. He left the place an absolute goddamn mess,” he gestured around. “The neighbors have been on my ass to get this place sold. The curb appeal is kind of bringing down the block.”

Will quietly walks around the living room, his mind working through logistics. He comes into the kitchen where Benny was checking out the cabinets and appliances.

“Ethan, can you give us a minute?” 

“Yea sure, I’ll be out in the backyard, y’all take your time,” Ethan said as he attempted to open the glass door leading out to the back porch. Struggling, he decided to head back out to the front door and unlock the fence to the backyard.

“So, what do you think?” Will asked, arching his eyebrows.

“Psh, I don’t know man, this is kind of a shit hole, right?”

“Yea, but like … we could do this. Maybe get Fish to come over and we can demo the inside. Start from scratch?”

“We should call Joel.”

Their cousin was a contractor in Texas, so he would be able to give them his honest opinion of whether or not they could do this. They ended up calling him on FaceTime so he could see what they were dealing with.

“I mean, it’s not gonna be easy or quick, but I think y’all could do it,” his low Southern drawl reverberating in the empty living room. “Plus, when you’re all done I can come out and inspect it for you. Sarah has been bugging me about taking her to Disney,” he laughed.

“Oh hell yea, that would be awesome!” Benny lit up starting to see how it could all come together based on Joel’s suggestions.

Will hadn’t seen his brother get this excited about something in a while. 

“Ok, Joel. We’ll talk to you soon … tell Tommy and Sarah we say hi.”

“Later guys.”

Hanging up and looking back at Benny, who still had a smile on his face, Will clears his throat. 

“So, what do you think? Should we do it?”

“You already know what I’m going to say!”

“Alright, let’s go talk to Ethan,” Will says motioning to the front door. 

Coming out of the front door, they head out around the right side of the house, picking their feet up high to walk through the overgrown grass and weeds. 

“This fence looks a little rough,” Benny observed, jiggling one of the loose boards.

“Hey, stop that! Don’t fucking pull it out.”

“....that’s what she said?” Benny laughs.

Will rolls his eyes, slapping his brother on the chest. “You’re so fuckin’ stupid.”

As they head back, they notice the pool. Ethan was standing at the edge looking at his phone. He hears them traipsing through the overgrowth and turns around, “Hey guys, what do you think?”

“Well, it’s going to need a lot of work, that’s for sure, but, we want to make an offer.”

“Shit, really? I mean … cool. Yea ok, I’ll draw something up and send it over.” 

Giving them both a handshake, the men start to walk back to the front. Benny pulls out his phone taking a few photos of the backyard and the front as they make their way back to Will’s Jeep. 

Ethan gives them one final wave before pulling out of the driveway and heading out.

Will and Benny walk up to the driveway and give one final look at the house, Benny snapping a few more photos. They hear someone clear their throat behind them. Turning around they see a woman, around their age, walking a corgi.

“You guys going to buy that?” she nodded towards the house.

“Uh, yea we’re thinking about it,” Will said cautiously while Benny bounded past his brother to crouch down to pet the dog.

“Aw man, I love corgis!”

“Ha, thanks, he loves people so you’re making his day. My name is Megan, that's Bucky.” She extended her hand to shake Will’s first, looking down at Benny who got back up. Removing his backward baseball cap and putting it in his left hand to shake her hand.

“I live over there, the blue two-story with the basketball hoop,” she says pointing over to a house a few doors down and across the street. 

“Do you play basketball?” Benny asks, reaching back down to give the dog some belly scratches.

“No, but my son does.” She reaches up to brush some hair out of her face and the boys both notice the huge diamond on her finger. 

“What’s the neighborhood like?” Will could tell it was a nice neighborhood, but still wanted to do the proper reconnaissance. 

“Oh, it’s pretty quiet. A few families, but some singles as well,” she eyes them both up and down. “You have some nice neighbors on both sides of you. We’ve been trying to have more events together, block parties, and stuff. Hopefully, you boys can fix up this piece of shit and we can all come over,” she smiles tilting her chin up at the house.

“Yea, well that’s the goal.” Benny looked up smiling, continuing to play with the dog.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you around hopefully.” She waves and continues her walk.

Later that night, Will was sitting in the living room playing some zombie video game when he noticed Benny head back over to his chair at the dining room table, notebook, and pencil in tow. Except this time Benny had some colored pencils with him too. Will saw his brother prop up his phone, using it as a reference for whatever he was drawing. A small smile on his face as he got to work.

______________________

The next month was busy getting everything together with the realtors. During that time, Santiago returned from his travels, wanting a bit more stability than the nomad life. He and Frankie had been helping the brothers pack.

Closing day comes and before they go in to sign the papers, Will pulls out his phone.

WILL: Headed in now to close on the house…should have the keys by 5. You guys want to come over and check it out?

FRANKIE: Yea, Pope and I can head over after I get out of work.  

BENNY: Sweet, see you guys later. Bring beer!

“Goddamn, my fucking hand hurts,” Benny puts his pen down and massages his hand. “I didn’t realize we had to sign so much shit.”

“What did you think, we would sign one paper? We’re buying a house.” Will chuckles.

_________________________

The boys waited approximately one day before fully starting Operation Bachelor Pad, as Benny put it. Will continued to lean on Joel’s advice about what materials to buy and avoid and techniques to use. Joel even sent them a new set of power tools as a housewarming gift. 

The sweltering weather made working outside on the yard a bit of a hassle, but one of Will’s first orders of business was to clean up the front so it wasn’t such an eyesore to the neighbors. Between the four of them, they were able to knock it out rather quickly. Will mowed the grass, while Frankie meticulously edged. Being the tallest of the group, Benny worked on pulling leaves out of the gutters with Santi’s help. They pulled weeds and removed a couple of dead shrubs. When they were all done, the boys sat in some folding chairs in the driveway drinking from their bottles of water.

“It’s so fucking hot out,” Frankie said as he took his hat off, wiped his forehead and combed his hair with his hand, before returning his hat to his head.

“How am I this sweaty?” Benny grunted as he peeled off his T-shirt, resting it on the back of his chair.

“What, you trying to give a show to all of the housewives?” Santiago teased him.

“Fuck off, it’s hot. If the pool wasn’t such a goddamn disaster I would jump in there,” Benny laughed.

Will looked up and saw Megan walking towards them holding a basket.

“Hey boys,” she smiled.

“Hey Megan,” Will got up, meeting her at the front of the driveway. “What’s this?”

“Where’s the corgi?” Benny yelled. Will turns around to glare at him. “Just kidding, hi Mrs. Megan!”

“Oh my god, Benjamin, please do not call me Mrs. It makes me feel old,” she chuckles. “Here, I wanted to bring something by, not sure how stocked your fridge is yet and I saw you had some friends over.” She nodded to the group behind Will.

Handing over the basket, Will sees she had arranged a few bottles of water and Gatorade, along with some homemade cookies and a gift card to a pizza place. 

“Wow, thank you, this is so nice,” Will smiled. By this point, Benny had walked up to see what was in the basket too. 

“Nice, this is awesome!” he said, pulling out one of the cookies and stuffing it in his mouth. He noticed Megan giving him a quick up and down, so he stood a little taller. “This is fucking amazing. Are you a cook or something?”

“Baker. And no, not professionally or anything. I just dabble.”

“Well, you can dabble with us anyti-” he chokes as Will hit him in the side of the stomach. “Shit. I, uh, I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry,” he looked down bashfully. 

“I know what you meant, all good,” she laughs. “Well, I should be heading out.”

“See ya later!” Benny waved, grabbing one more cookie from the basket before bouncing back towards the chair. 

“So, are all of your neighbors hot?” Santiago asked with an arched eyebrow. “May need to move in here myself.”

“Fuck off, Pope. She’s nice. She’s actually one of the first people that has come by to say anything.”

________________

It was so fucking hot outside. Florida summers were no joke. As a result, the boys used the next few months to completely renovate the inside of the house. They installed new countertops in the kitchen, laid down hardwood floors, upgraded nearly every appliance or fixture in the place, and fixed the glass sliding door to the back porch. As the months went on, the house became a source of their collective pride and joy; they reveled in their handiwork.

Megan would come by every so often to say hi. She introduced the guys to a few other neighbors and it felt like they were starting to develop a home base. Even though Frankie and Santiago didn’t officially live there, they may as well because they were over all the time, even when Will and Benny were gone.

As the weather got cooler, by Florida standards, the boys decided to focus on the outside of the house. 

One day as they were sitting around watching a football game on a lazy Sunday, Benny got up and headed out of the living room with a purpose.

“Where the fuck is he going?” Santiago looked over the couch to where Benny ran off to.

“Who knows, the kid has been really focused on something and I don’t know what it is,” Will said.

“Ok! I got it!” Benny ran back into the room with his notebook and a pencil in tow.

The other three looked at him with confused looks.

“I’ve been thinking about what to do with the yard, but I think I finally figured it out. This was the missing piece.” He quickly scribbled some things down and turned his notebook around.

“What are we supposed to be looking at Ben?” Will asked, confused and trying to read what Benny’s chicken scratch said. 

“Ok, look,” Benny sat in the middle of the couch, Will and Frankie on either side and Santiago came over to sit on the back of the couch, looking over his shoulder.

“Let’s start in front. We need to replace the fence on both sides and put in a swing gate, that’s easy. I’m thinking we do some flower beds here in the front. I haven’t decided what kind of flowers yet. But leading from the front porch over to the fence we’ll put some flagstone pavers down. Yea, I think that’ll look nice. Oh, and a couple of planted pots here in the front,” he motioned to circles he drew on either side of the door.”

He keeps rambling as the other three look at each other, Benny oblivious to them.

“Oh and then on the left side of the house, I’m thinking some permeable pavers so that the water can drain, will help us not have standing water to avoid excess mosquitos and algae and shit. That side of the fence is bigger so we can easily get the lawn mower into the backyard that way and not fuck up the grass as much.”

Moving the paper closer, he points to the left side of the paper. “Ok, so once we get into the backyard, I think we line it with some raised flower beds. Near the pool, we’ll have some more perennials. We’ll add some more planted pots on the porch. Maybe some string lights or something.”

“And then this is what finally came together!” he smiled pointing to the back right of his drawing. “I think … wait for it … we build a gazebo thing.”

“Isn’t that called a pergola?” Santiago asked.

“Same shit. They’ll be a structure back there. With some shrubs up to the fence line. We can put a palm tree out there, some more flagstone pavers, and then we include a little water fountain in one of the perennial beds here.” 

When he finished, he leaned back on the couch and exhaled, pleased with himself and excited that his idea finally came together.

“So that’s what you’ve been working on, huh?” Will smirked.

“Yea man, I … I don’t know. Ever since we came here for the first time I had this … vision. Like, I could see it, but I couldn’t. So I’ve been working on different designs.” Benny paged through his notebook showing numerous mockups of their backyard.

“Holy shit, Ben, that’s awesome,” Frankie looked over at Benny. “But what if you put a grass bed over here by the utilities.” 

“Yea … yea, that could work Fish!”

_______________________ 

Over the next few weeks, Benny and Frankie continued to tinker with the design, sending Will and Santiago out on Home Depot runs to get things off their list. 

As they did working on the interior of the house, they found themselves opening up to each other as they worked, finding that keeping their hands and bodies busy gave their minds time to process.

And they worked hard, completely rejuvenating the look of the house both from the inside and outside, so much so that the neighbors took notice. 

Megan was the first to come over to ask if the guys could look at her lawn. Benny made a few easy suggestions, offering to fix it up on weekends. Then another neighbor and another neighbor. Before they knew it, the boys had worked on nearly every house on their block, which helped them get to know everyone.

One night as the boys were hanging out in the backyard, Benny came up with another idea. 

"Ok, hear me out," as he opened the cooler to grab beers for everyone. 

Frankie was by the grill and turned around to peer over at Benny. "What Benjamin? What job did you sign us up for now?" chuckling as he took a swig of the beer Benny handed him.

"Landscaping."

Cocking his head to the side, Santiago repeats back matter-of-factly, "Landscaping."

"Like what, do it professionally or something?" Frankie laughs.

Benny looks over at Will who was observing, taking it all in.

"Oh come on! Look at what we did with this place," gesturing around to the backyard. 

They all had to admit they did a beautiful job with the backyard. It has been almost therapeutic for them, working on this house together. 

“We’ve already been doing it! Megan’s lawn. Fish, you had a great idea for Melissa and Derek’s backyard, they fucking loved what you and Pope did with the place. We … we could do this for other people. Figure out how to make shit better.” He pulled his cap off, brushing his hair.

Although the other three had always seen Benny as the little brother, bouncing off the walls with energy, they had to admit he had a newfound focus when it came to the projects around the house. His brain was crawling with ideas. Plus, they were having fun working on projects for their neighbors. They had gotten very close to some of them.

"This could be a legit business for us. I even have a name I came up with. Wait for it…Delta Landscaping!" He beamed, clearly proud of himself and waiting for the guy's reaction.

Next Chapter

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first installment of this series! Seriously thank you to everyone who has sent me a message or a comment in the lead-up to this. I’ve had so much fun interacting with all of you and it has been a bright spot in my days for sure.

Let me know if you want to be on the tag list moving forward!!

#delta landscaping #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier au

[nouearth]

a letter to spider-man.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: spider-man launched his own help line and you need his advice in talking to your crush: peter.

wc: 1.2k. genre: fluff, comfort!fic. warnings: holland!peter, social anxiety, mention of death, crushes, college!au. notes: i was re-reading perks of being a wallflower again, OOF. i kinda want to make this a series, so please tell me if you'd like to see it become one!

peter wasn’t sure what made him decide to do this: a spider-man help line. one day, he woke up and wanted to fulfill a sense of purpose more than he already has—to help out the public more, to build a community that peter has been wanting to fix since the death of his aunt.

so far, they’ve been pretty simple tasks: walking the dogs, helping a blind woman with grocery shopping, fixing a broken pipe with his webs—it was all out of the kindness of his own big heart. a heart that his aunt once nurtured.

it was hard at first. from being a ‘save the world’ hero to a ‘save the dog from burning up in a locked car’ hero, it was a downgrade one might find—peter did at first. 

but it’s been a while since he saw the relieved smiles on the public’s faces whenever he swung from the corner. true happiness that he was envious of at times, but nonetheless grateful for, and so that would become his motivation. 

maybe it can make the world a better place if people happen to be inspired by his actions. small stuff that regular civilians can achieve. a domino effect that peter hoped for.

—april 10th

dear spider-man, so, this is a thing now, huh? the future is so unpredictable, so i actually never thought i’d be writing to you. well, i guess the future would be me texting you like you advertised, but i like writing. it makes my hand cramp, and my handwriting is terrible (sorry, i hope you can still read this), but it feels good. like... shouting at the sky, i would imagine, so i prefer it. i’ve also been watching a lot of ‘80s and ‘90s movies, which could also be a major factor.  and i just realized i’m supposed to tell you about my problems! this is kinda hilarious because i think i’ve probably rewritten my letter six times already.  also, are you living your citizen life as a therapist or something? because why else would you be helping people this way? not that we don’t appreciate it, but it’s different. you’ve probably stopped reading by now, but in case you haven’t, i’ll keep the rest short. i guess my problem is… i like this guy. i know you’re not a relationship therapist (your secret is safe with me if you are though), but i figured a guy like you knew how to talk to people? you save people on a daily basis, so you probably aren’t scared anymore, right? that theory worked better in my head, to be honest, so scratch that! anyway, his name is peter. we’re both freshmen in college, so we’ve been seeing each other a lot, especially since we’re in the same classes. did i mention that i’m a guy as well? i don’t know him that well. i’m pretty quiet, i guess. invisible, maybe? it’s funny. sometimes, my professors would forget that i was even in their classes until i would speak up. but besides that point, he probably doesn’t even know that i exist either.  the perks of being invisible—i’m not even sure if there are any, because i’m noticeable enough on days where people want to say stuff. mean, terrible stuff. i wonder if he notices me, though. probably not, but a guy could only hope. i think we’d get along. again, hope! he’s smart and humble, always insecure of his own answers even though he knows—everyone knows—that it’s correct. kind, too. also awkward, like me. but the cute-awkward, not the me-awkward. i like him. i want to be friends with him. maybe even more? but i’m not greedy! i can settle with being friends.  i guess, how can i approach him?

thank you, (m/n)

it caught peter off guard at first—seeing his name in the same vicinity as spider-man became a jump-scare. even though, the sender kept everything pretty vague to keep the named crush relatively anonymous, there was a gut feeling telling peter that it was him—the culprit of (m/n)’s stolen heart.

nah, there are so many peters..! just a coincidence.

it took him longer than he thought to come up with a sufficient reply. usually, a task would’ve been done because all he had to do was use his body, his webs to do good—not his words. inexperienced yet excited, peter smiled while writing his letter.

peter wasn’t great at consoling people. hell, he couldn’t even make himself feel better. but he’ll try, like he always does. 

—april 23rd

hi (m/n)! sorry for taking so long to get back to you! life’s been crazy with everything going on. did you know that there’s been at least ten deli robberies that i managed to save this week alone? something about that chicken salad sandwich drives people nuts… like you, peter’s actually been pretty swamped with exams and graduation. i also want to congratulate you for being the only one that has written a letter to me instead of using the chat service! i’ve never written a letter before, so excuse my rustiness. my handwriting is way worse than yours. mine looks like if you gave a dog a pen and made it write. freshman year of college is a big year for you, for everyone. i remember the feeling of feeling so lost!  still know the feeling.  don’t get me wrong. yes, i’ve become braver since i started this spider-man stuff. but i still get scared, you know? life is so unpredictable and you never know when something might go wrong, and unexpectedly go so right.  like, just the other day, i got anxious when i was ordering from a drive-thru! they didn’t hear me, so i had to repeat my order. then again, because the mic sucked or whatever! even though it was only me, i felt so embarrassed, like my cheeks swelling and itchy skin type of nervous. but then it quickly went away because… okay, well i got my burger and fries pretty quick, so that helped. but you know what i mean? there’s this potentially negative outcome that we’re so afraid of. when in reality, it’s only ever so fleeting. you said he’s a nice guy, right? he could also be scared to talk to you, and you would never know because you’re too busy knocking yourself down! everyone is awkward. I’m awkward. so are some of my family members, my friends too. and that feeling won’t ever go away. sometimes, it’s meant to be shared. being invisible isn’t so bad sometimes. i definitely know the feeling, even wished for it at times. you can listen to music without being bothered, that’s a bonus! but from what i’ve noticed from feeling invisible, it would always come when i was being unkind to myself. i had the worst perception of myself in the eyes of my peers, and that made me withdraw. i purposely isolated myself because i was being unkind. the way you view yourself reflects onto others. not all the time, sometimes people are genuinely just assholes. but from what you’ve been telling me about this peter guy, he seems pretty special. if you’re awkward, be awkward and laugh it off. there’s nothing more charming than being genuine, and being kind to yourself is part of that progress. I’m rooting for you (and peter)!

from your friendly neighbor, spidey.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#✰ : nou.fics #✰ : nou.marvel #✰ : nou.peterparker #peter parker x m!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x male reader #x male reader #male reader #m!reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x m!reader #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker blurb #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfic #x y/n #x you #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #spider man #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you

[bau-drabbles]

best friends

a/n: this is my first fic in this fandom so i apologise if it seems a little out of character and incredibly rushed in the chapter but i just wanted to write a lil cute moment for spencer :)

i hope you enjoy and requests are open if you'd like to send something! 🤍

"This is so incredibly frustrating" Spencer muttered to Morgan who wrinkled his nose at he smelt the perfumes on the counter tops.

"C'mon genius there must be something here she likes. She's your mom, it should be easy" Morgan sighed and continued to prod the bottles while the Doc rubbed his forehead to ease some tension.

These headaches of his came in far more frequently and pained more then he cared to say. But his thoughts were interrupted by a ringtone and he looked at Derek who glanced down at his phone. He looked relieved to see it, hiding his micro expression from the other quickly.

But Spencer knew, he always did

"Ah I'll be back, give me a few minutes" He had already made his escape, eager to answer the call.

"Morgan... " Spencer rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the perfumes. They were all heavy on his nose and the workers were looking at him, expecting him to pay already. He had been way too long for someone browsing for an item.

The lights were harsh on his eyes and he sighed again in frustration, rubbing his temple. He walked forwards to a different counter, stumbling as his foot hit a bag.

"Sorry I-" He looked in front and there you were, stepping a few steps back to create some distance. So many words he wanted to say but not a single one passed his lips. That was until he glanced down and realised he probably tripped your bag.

You looked at him finally, your brows furrowed at the intrusion but it went slightly when you see the curly haired man stuttering an apology to you. You thought that was that and you turn away but he lingers a little longer than most would, internally debating with himself to say the next following words.

"Can I help you?" You tilt your head slightly, ready to guide him to someone else. Setting down the perfume in your hand, your eyes glance upon his. He seems desperate either to buy the gift or to get of the store, you didn't know.

"Um, I apologise but... you.... you're a woman right?" He sets down the perfumes in his hands and you nod, shrugging your bag on your shoulder

"10/10 observation" By the looks of his unruly curls and the stress lines on his forehead, you conclude he's present shopping for someone clearly rather important to him. It was sweet in a way. He cared so much about them.

"Do you need help?" You perk your eyebrow in curiosity, looking at the staff members that were all around.

"Sorry, I just... I know this sounds incredibly pathetic but it's my mothers birthday. And I have no idea what to get her. I don't suppose- I mean you're probably busy-" Spencer rambled, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. He had anticipated your rejection and he wanted nothing more than the ground to swallow him whole.

"So are you asking for my advice?" You clarified, chuckling a little. You see the look of relief that washes over his features.

"It's just that you seem like a well dressed woman and I need an honest opinion. Of course if you have places to be-" "No I can spare a few minutes, what does she like?" You don't particularly know why you help him, considering that you were also in a slight rush and needed to leave. But something about this man planted your feet in front of him, something about him you didn't know, forced you to stay.

"Roses, I think? But then there are so many that smells like flowers" He looked aghast at the perfumes bottles, his brain unable to comprehend which would be the better candidate for his mom.

"Well the one you're holding is more of a day perfume. Is there a reason why you're getting her a perfume, has she asked for it?" You inquired and he helplessly shrugged his shoulders a little. Blushing ever so slightly he rambled a little embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.

"No? Just women.... like perfume right?" Spencer awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, glancing to the floor in shame.

"Is it obvious I'm hopelessly pathetic?" He murmured, toying with the lid. He dares to make eye contact with you and you stare at him, giving a reassuring look.

"You want me to be honest?" "Slightly regretting it now"

"Most women at her age have a signature scent. Perhaps get her something like a scarf or a bag, something she can adorn alongside her own style?" You suggested, gesturing to the side. He didn't actually expect honesty that was actually beneficial let alone something he would actually consider and use.

"Thank you, that's really helpful" Spencer smiled and he turned his head towards the aisle, his lips dropping slightly as he saw the overwhelming amount of accessories.

You could've made your escape but yet you found yourself standing to his side, speaking once more.

"Do..... you need help picking out something?" "Please"

•••

"So the red or the brown?" "The red, it's beautiful" The silken scarf shone under the spotlight in the store and he gives you a thankful grin, quickly paying for his item. You turned to grab your bag as he comes back to you

"I just want to say thank you so much for taking time to save me from my own incompetence. I really appreciated it" He smiled softly and you felt your heart aching a little. The amount of time you spent with this man was so short and yet it felt like hours and hours, like you already knew him somehow.

"You're welcome...." You trail off just now remembering you hadn't caught his name and he sticks his palm out for you to shake. How easy he was to capture in a conversation, so interesting and yet you felt like there was so much more depth to him then he let on.

"Spencer" He speaks gently, your fingers graze his as he holds your hand. Such a common greeting yet it felt intimate to you. It felt personal, it felt right.

"Y/N. And you're welcome, it was lovely meeting you. I do hope your mom enjoys the gift" Your heart already hurts leaving him but you barely even know him so you turn away, knowing this interaction was going to stay for a while.

"W-wait..." He touches your shoulder and you turn around, the feeling of butterflies invading your body as he retracts his hand.

"Forgive the forwardness but perhaps you'd like to go out for some coffee? That is, if you're not busy. Of course if you are I-" You interrupt his rambling, unable to hide the small giggle that escapes your lips.

"Lead the way" Your lips tilted in a beautiful smile as his replicates its own, a warm feeling invading your body. Whatever this was, you looked forward to knowing. To experiencing.

To loving

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

[minas-linkverse]

Do you have any tips or tricks on how to start a comic like this? Or even just how you got started?? I've had my own au for years that I so badly wanna put out into the world but I've been struggling with finding a good way to start it!!!!

Hm!! Ok!! This is a tough question with many different answers even just from me. I'll do my best to answer tho!! 😮

The main bit of advice I want to give, and which I think is vital to anyone creating anything:

☆ Know yourself.

When looking up advice for creating, people love to tell you that by doing things a specific way is the best and only way to go. Often advice of this sort has solid points, you should plan ahead, you should have easy character designs, buut... You don't have to.

I do not work well with outlines or scripts. I dislike sketching. You'd think that'd make being a long form comic artist impossible for me, but nope.

I know theres things I cannot do, so I've put all my practise to what I can do. My lineart style allows me to almost skip sketching completely, my scripts are more of an A to B structure than law. I improv 90% of the time when making pages. It's kinda like dnd with myself.

I would absolutely not reccomend what I'm doing to others, but I know it works for me. People can tell me I'm doing it wrong but its either wrong or no comic at all, SO. Suck it. 👍

Er. Rambling now.

My point is, figure out what you can and cant do, and do your best to give yourself the ideal work enviorment and process.

☆ Deal with being overwhelmed

Making just a few panels and suddenly realising its gonna take years to get anywhere is SO demoralising. It's gonna happen and its gonna happen again, and again, and—

But continuing with the earlier advice, you gotta ask yourself what would help you. Are you willing to sacrifice quality? Do you just need a break? Maybe you're like me and like to include smth you love in every update so you'll have something to get excited about making.

That feeling of overwhelm is trying to tell you something, so figure out what that is so it wont end the project for you.

☆ Start it

You wont like what you make when starting. I've never heard of an artist who has.

I'm not saying start this instant, not everyone is as into improv and flailing around as me. But I will say you'll never feel ready. Figure out the minimun of what you need to start and do it. Show friends first if youre afraid to post.

Also where to start? Well sure there's lots of good advice online about that, but you can also just doodle random stuff until you feel like diving deeper. That's what LV started with, just Twi and Wild hanging out with animals and some headcanons. It may not be the most tightly written work but theres beauty in the humanity of a mess.

☆ Extras

A "failed project" or "forgotten WIP" is only a failure if you let yourself feel that way. Yea it can be a hauntingly strong feeling thats hard to deal with... But it can be beaten. WIPS are proof you tried and not everyone can say they have.

Lv is far from done and I have no intention of dropping it, but because the journey has been so nice I'd satisfied even if I had to call it here. Its smth that helps me with the overwhelm... What I've made is beautiful even now.

Comparing yourself to others is gonna rip your heart out. I love that theres other links meet aus out there and hope the best for those artists but I caNNot follow any of them or I'll crumble to dust.

So Uhm.

Basically. Have fun and be yourself. 👍

Ps. Readability is basically the most important thing for a comic artist to pay attention to, that and not destroying yourself with details and rendering. 🙌 Good luck out there!

#Ask #I love discussing stuff like that but it always ends up so rambly and long ahsjjdjr #I hope I said at least smth slightly concrete

[tripleyeeet]

ONLY FOOLS FALL

SUMMARY: Upon arriving in Baldur's Gate, Zayis decides to pay her old flame a visit... much to Astarion's dismay.

PAIRING: Astarion & Zayis (OFC)

WORD COUNT: 12,356

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, penetrative sex, teasing, blood sucking as a form of foreplay (therefore mentions of blood), feelings realized, first confessions, angst with a happy ending.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been months of brainstorming this particular scene and the build up that goes along with it, but I think I finally got it. For context, Vesryn is Zay's sort of ex who she never properly breaks up with due to getting kidnapped.

I know this chapter is a bit of a doozy but please, if you at all like my writing I beg you to give this one a shot. It's probably one of my favourite things I've written and I'm very proud of it. :')

Also shout out to @novarunestone specifically for helping my brain push through. You're the best, dude. <3

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST

-

She’s at his door before she can even think to leave, rapping her knuckles against the grain —trying her best to swallow down the knot that resides in her throat. Pushing against the walls of her esophagus, she can feel the obstruction blocking her airway. 

Forcing a heavy sigh to escape as she reaches up to touch it, she can’t help but wonder if this is her body’s way of enacting guilt. Considering her mind’s already jumbled up enough as it is, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was. She did throw a knife at her partner’s head for Gods’ sake, so the least she could do is feel the events of her shitty behaviour. That and to properly apologize. Which is ultimately why she’s here, standing in front of her old home, running her fingers nervously along the length of her neck.

As it swells with anticipation she can feel her chest tighten and her hands begin to sweat. Each symptom growing the longer she stands there, waiting; wondering whether or not he’ll answer the door. 

Deep down, there’s a part of her that hopes he doesn't. A part that screams for her to turn on her heel and dash back to camp without even looking back. A part that thinks the unspoken word between two separating parties is more than enough closure to get her through. It’d certainly be the easier option, right? The one with less baggage. Perhaps if she could just accept that she’s still that same asshole that left all those weeks ago rather than the better person she’s currently trying to be she could just pretend like she never knocked on the door in the first place. Up and leave and never speak of this again. 

Biting her bottom lip in annoyance, she knows she can’t. Thanks to Wyll and his stupidly decent advice, she’s too far gone with this whole making amends thing. Having promised the warlock she’d at least try to apologize, the mere thought of failing makes her want to crawl all the way to Avernus and never let another soul see her face again. Either that or hole up in the woods somewhere. Whatever happens first, really. 

However, considering the more likely option being Avernus, she continues to stand there, idly scratching the side of her neck, feeling the ends of her claws dig through her dirtied flesh. 

Almost immediately, the feeling of it makes her cringe and drop her hand, realizing just how stupid she must look, covered head to toe in dirt. Reeking heavily of sweat and viscera —two scents you definitely don’t want to bring home when you’re about to beg for forgiveness for apparently running away with a vampire. 

Which obviously isn’t the case. Or, at least wasn’t. Nowadays she’s not quite sure what to think about that whole situation. So most of the time she just blocks it out entirely. Ignoring the fact that the line that was once drawn between her and Astarion has begun to blur into something new. 

Something she has to apologize for otherwise the guilt might eat her alive. So, she bangs on the door again, this time using the edge of her fist to repeatedly slam against the wood, gritting her teeth in frustration. All while praying to whatever God might be listening that for once, instead of fighting, Vesryn just accepts her apology.

Because truthfully, she’s not sure she can take the rejection right now. Not even when she hears him grumbling on the other side of the door, making her realize she’s still pounding against it. Her hand repeatedly colliding until it’s eventually torn from her grasp and the man she once called her partner is standing before her. 

“Zay?”

He looks older somehow. Worn out. With eyes that were once large, round orbs of obsidian are now narrowed and soaked in age. A newfound darkness cradling each one with exhaustion. 

Pressing her lips together she nods her head at the sound of his voice and continues to stare, taking in all his features. Picking apart the way his face twists from confusion to annoyance, ultimately falling on something unfamiliar that eventually disappears inside the crook of her neck.

“You’re alive.”

He says it as if it’s a question. Whispering it against the shell of her ear, she barely hears it at first. Too shocked to process the position that she’s currently in, all she can do is stand there and try to repeat the phrase in her head. Allowing the individual sounds to fully absorb before she’s nodding her head again. “Hi, uh, yeah.” 

He pulls away, still resting his hands on her arms. “You escaped.”

Suddenly confused, she raises a brow, watching his expression change again —this time back to annoyance, prompting her to realize what he means. “Um, not exactly.”

“Not exactly? What do you mean not exactly?”

She opens her mouth to respond before closing it back up again, unsure how to explain the events she’s recently experienced without completely freaking him out. 

“Can I maybe come inside? We should probably talk.”

At first, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he just stands there, staring. His mind most likely reeling from the fact that his ex is now standing at his doorstep in the middle of the night, covered in shit, most likely preparing to tell him that the man she left with is still very much in the picture. 

None of which bodes well for her ever-growing fear of rejection. Especially considering that if the roles were reversed, she’d already be slamming the door in his face, telling him to piss off. So the fact that he hasn’t done that already feels like a bit of a miracle. One that continues to bless her once he eventually pulls away, motioning towards the inside of the house with a tired sigh. 

Awkwardly, she smiles in response and enters, taking in the familiar scenery. Feeling its presence hit her like a ton of bricks as she forces herself further inside, ignoring that knot again. Pushing whatever anxieties that spread through her in order to move to the dining room table and pull up a chair. 

“I’m sure you have a ton of questions…” 

Trailing off, she lets out a nervous laugh and begins to play with the end of her tail. All the while Vesryn just stands at the other end of the table, looking down at her like with such empty eyes that she can’t help but clear her throat and pivot. Opting to just ramble instead of waiting for an answer, knowing deep down he might not give her one. 

“First off, I need you to know I didn’t leave willingly.”

His brow quirks up at that. An air of interest coating his features, urging him to take a seat. “That’s an awfully vague way to start a story.” 

“I mean, I’m not trying to be vague,” she replies, suppressing the desire to roll her eyes. “Honestly, I just —I don’t really know how to explain what’s happened.”

“You don’t know how or you just don’t want to?” 

“Both, I suppose.”

All he does is snort and raise his hands to his face, dragging them down until they’re resting over his mouth, showcasing his never-ending lack of patience. “You’re aware of how late it is, right?”

This time she does roll her eyes. “My apologies sir, I didn’t realize I was being such a burden. Do you want me to go?” 

Out of habit she then goes to stand, prompting Vesryn to angrily grip her wrist. “Oh for fuck’s sake —would you please just sit down and tell me where you’ve been?”

Equally as angry, she swears at him under her breath before crossing her arms over her chest. Using the pressure to subdue the need to panic as she tries to collect her thoughts before ultimately ending up with, “Astarion and I were kidnapped.”

Almost immediately she can see the lack of interest in his eyes begin to develop. How they quickly start to glaze over at the mention of Astarion’s name, reminding her just how unenthusiastic he is to hear about him alongside what he assumes is some sort of excuse.

“Obviously, the details are a bit complicated but the gist of it is that we were taken by mind flayers and now we’re trying to find a cure,” she tells him, but again, all he does is stare, his gaze set directly against her’s —devoid of anything other than disinterest and doubt.

Once again, it makes her want to leave. To repeat time and storm out like she did all those weeks ago. As terrible as it sounds, she knows it’d at least get his attention. Maybe even stir him enough to actually listen to what she has to say without immediately discrediting the truth. 

“We met others on the ship. People infected like us. They’re in danger, Ves. I’m in danger.” 

“Aren’t you always?” 

“Not like this,” she tells him, swallowing hard. “Things are different. Bigger.”

He lets out a sigh. “Define big.” 

“The whole city going up in flames big.”

Shifting in his chair, she can tell he’s trying his best not to say what he really wants to. An act that simultaneously fills her with rage and relief as she watches him mull over her words, allowing them to fully sink in before humming in response. 

“Alright, I’ll bite. Explain to me how exactly you’re in danger?” 

Before she can even stop herself, Zayis is telling him everything. Relaying each point of the plot through nervous thoughts and shaking hands. Trying her best to allow enough time in between the more convoluted sections to really process the severity. 

And at first, it’s a struggle. Considering Vesryn’s almost as stubborn as she is, she can tell right off the bat it’s hard for him to accept. After having been convinced of this completely different narrative for so long, she can see it in his eyes he’s struggling to trust what she’s saying. To take all the outlandish things she’s relaying at face value after all the grief she’s put him through. 

But then about halfway through she notices the switch. That subtle moment of realization taking over, forcing him to listen. To hear all the stressors of the last few weeks repeatedly piling on top of her. To understand that the night she left without a trace wasn’t just the result of a conscious choice she had made but rather a mistake in location at the worst possible time. 

By the end of it, he’s got his arms across his chest, one of them angled up so that he can stroke his chin in bewilderment. “Gods, you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Fuck.” He shakes his head. 

In response, all Zayis does is shoot him a tight-lipped smile. One that feels so misplaced that it ends up falling almost immediately. “I just thought you should know, you know?”

“Know what?”

“That I didn’t walk out on you,” she admits, her throat aching from the explanation. “That I still care about you in some way.”

It’s at that point she can tell that Vesryn knows. Written plain as day across his face, she can feel it in her chest, too. Pounding against her already damaged frame. Echoing through the edges of her organs, causing them to twist in discomfort. 

Considering he’s always been a pretty intuitive guy, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to her but still, the second he eventually lets out a huff and awkwardly grins to himself, she can’t help but feel the guilt double in size. Triple even, watching the way he looks around the room, avoiding her pleading eyes. 

“Somehow I always knew,” he says, still smiling. Still shaking his head in protest, as if he can’t quite fully accept it. 

“I know.” 

“You just —you always talked about him, you know? Whether it was about his terrible personality or his disgusting behaviour, it was like his presence was constantly taunting me. Making me feel like the least interesting man in your life.”

“You weren’t—“

“I know,” he cuts her off with a raised hand. Something that would normally make her angry but right now just makes her confused. “It’s just… no matter how negatively you talked about him there was always this passion there. Like everything about him was actually worthy of conversation.” 

Letting out a dry laugh, he pauses to rub his face again, this time groaning through the process. “I guess, I just wanted you to talk about me like that. Just once so that I knew you weren’t getting tired of me.”

It’s at that moment Zayis feels her chest begin to break, the cavity of her ribcage splintering out to stab through her flesh. All at once, it hits the tenderest parts of her, ripping away what little composure she once had —filling her up with that same wave of emotion she’s been avoiding all this time. 

Leaning back in her chair, it immediately prompts her to blink back the threat of tears. As they begin to sting her eyes, she can’t help but focus on the pressure and how it weighs far more than it did when she first entered. How somehow, despite doing what she came here to do, this newfound information Vesryn provides just feels like another problem. Another issue added to the ongoing pile of things she needs to fix but doesn’t know how to. 

Which makes the once subdued panic inside her chest practically explode. Taking the form of shaking hands and shifting eyes, she can feel her breath start to quicken. The sudden lack of air located inside her chest making it difficult for her to breathe. 

Almost immediately Vesryn’s kneeling in front of her as it happens, taking her hands in his while looking up with concern. “It’s okay, Zay,” he tells her. “I’m okay.”

She doesn’t understand how it could be —how he could be after all that she’s done to him. Having fucked off without a single goodbye he should be the wreck who sits at the table, looking like a broken vessel with nothing else to give. The one who mourns for a life they could’ve possibly had if not for bad timing or poor communication or—

“I forgive you, yeah?” 

His voice is soft. A caress of sound that only further fuels her tears, realizing it’s her who’s crumbling. The one who’s broken and tired, unsure whether or not to let this go in favour of pursuing something new. 

“Why?”

“Because I do?” He shrugs. “I don’t know —does there have to be a reason?”

Before coming here she would’ve said no and called it a day. But now that she’s in front of him, debating whether or not she should fight for a second chance, she needs it. More than anything she’s ever needed in her life, she’s willing to demand it if she has to. 

Sensing this, all Vesryn does is sigh. Offering her a subtle nod, he then moves to stand while holding her head, allowing his fingers to gently push against the crown of her skull to calm her down. 

“Once you left I think I realized we were only together because it was familiar,” he says, and immediately she knows he’s right because, near the end, it was as if they were nothing more than two people sharing a space. 

Allowing the convenience of their arrangement to take over, no longer was there that initial spark they once had as kids. The one that drove them to care and want and grow. And because of that, by the time the kidnapping happened, it was obvious that they were well on their way to this same ending.

“I'm sorry, Ves.” 

Before she can even think she’s reaching for his torso, pressing her face against the side of his ribs as she wraps herself around. An act he responds to by hugging her shoulder with one arm, once again telling her it’s okay. 

“I promise we’ll make it out the other side,” he tells her, and somehow despite the cloud of doubt that seems to always circle her head as of late, she believes him. Feeling the truth of his words remind her that even though they’re not the same as they once were, that doesn’t necessarily mean that they can’t still be there for one another. 

“Gods, I hope you’re right because I really don’t think I have the mental capacity to become a mind flayer right now.” 

Somehow that comment manages to break the ice, causing both of them to grin as Vesryn rolls his eyes. “What? Not a fan of tentacles?”

All she does is scrunch up her face. 

“Oh c’mon! Might be fun!” 

“Define fun.” 

Peeling himself away, he wanders over to the kitchen and grabs a bottle off the shelf, placing it in front of Zayis before retreating back to his chair with a shrug. “I don’t know. Don’t they control people with their minds?” 

Almost immediately she reaches for the vessel in front of her, pulling out the cork with a loud pop!

“Sure, but they also eat brains which I’m not necessarily fond of,” she explains, taking a sip of the undisclosed liquid, feeling it burn the second it hits her tongue. 

“I mean, bit of brains never hurt anyone. Especially not you.” 

As she finishes sipping, she shoots him an unimpressed look. One that eventually makes the both of them laugh, prompting her chest to tighten. Her body somehow reminding itself of how easy things used to be.

“I swear if I do turn into a mind flayer you’re the first on my list of brains to eat.” 

“Really? Not the vampire?”

His voice is unnaturally smug as he says it. So much so that she’s almost a little surprised, watching the way he cocks his brow and reaches across the table to take a quick sip of his own. 

“How is he doing anyways?” 

“A bit forward, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. Last I heard though, you’re on borrowed time.” 

Pressing her lips together, she realizes then that he’s right. Now that they’re back in Baldur’s Gate it’s only a matter of time before they have to face their problem head on. A detail she hadn’t quite grasped yet, having been focused on getting here first. 

“He’s fine.”

Without warning Vesryn pushes the bottle across the table, smirking. “Just fine, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Not good? Great? Absolutely per—“

“He’s good,” she practically snaps, taking the few silent beats that pass to down a good portion of their drink.

“That’s good.” Nodding his head, he watches her take a few more sips, forcing back an obviously shit-eating grin. “Treating you well, I hope?”

He waves his hand through the air dramatically and immediately Zayis can’t help but groan and take another sip. Letting the liquid distract her from the roaming thoughts that keep entering her mind —forcing her to remember Astarion’s face and how unimpressed it looked when she left camp.

Somehow it makes her miss him. Despite knowing that she’ll return to his side amongst the others by the time the sun rises, there’s a brief moment where she’s staring at Vesryn that makes her panic. An almost anxious jolt of electricity firing through her nerve endings, causing her to twitch unfortunately in her chair. 

“He’s alright, I guess,” she ends up saying. “Still annoying as ever.”

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.”

“I’m sure you’d be surprised now, too.”

“What do you mean?”

At first, she isn’t sure what she means. But then she narrows her eyes and thinks really hard for a second, uncovering the truth. “He’s actually, uh, kind of sweet sometimes.”

“Really?”

Almost immediately, the simple confession takes both of them back, prompting Zayis to clear her throat and continue to drink, feeling her head whirl from the volume of liquor she’s managed to consume over the last few minutes; honing in on the sudden interest in Vesryn’s eyes.

“Can you please stop looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re fishing for something.” 

Suddenly defensive, he scoffs and motions for her to hand over the bottle. “I’m not fishing for anything.” 

“Oh please, don’t think I don’t remember how gossipy of a bitch you are.”

All he does is smile, causing her to pinch the bridge of her nose and breathe, trying her best to remain calm. Because foolishly, now that she’s opened the can of worms that is Astarion, it’s like the man’s completely taken over. Seamlessly appearing in every corner of her exhausted mind, she can’t help but wonder how he’d react to this conversation.

Already she can hear him chastising her for skimping out on the details. Having practically memorized the inflections of his voice after years of endurance, she can clearly envision that cheeky little laugh of his. And how the way his hand might feel pressed against her cheek, taking in the frustrated expression that now coats her face.

The same one Vesryn immediately comments on. Pointing in amusement, he ends up asking her why she looks like that, causing her to cross her arms over her chest and shake her head, too stubborn to reveal the truth. 

“I see you're as emotionally distant as ever.” 

As he speaks, Vesryn just shoots her a knowing glance and slides their shared drink back to her. Barely batting an eye when she takes a few more angry sips.

“Am not.” 

“And childish.” 

For a moment she thinks about repeating history and grabbing the knife from her holster. But then she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, forcing herself to calm down just as Vesryn laughs. 

“Shut up. You’re just saying that so you can get me to talk.”

“Is it working?”

Whether it’s the challenging way he approaches the topic or the familiarity of his presence, it unfortunately is. More so than she cares to admit as she rolls her eyes, opting to avoid the topic by asking him what he’s been up to. Forcing the conversation to pivot as she continues to drink, listening to all the mundane stories of their old life. All the jobs he’s taken and how he’s kept himself busy while she’s been saving the coast. 

And for a while, it’s kind of nice focusing on something else. Something simple and disconnected from the reality that she now finds herself in. So much so that she doesn’t even register the empty bottle now in front of her after Vesryn changes the topic again. This time transitioning to her friends. 

“You said that Ravengard kid was with you?”

Nodding her head, she then feels the entire room begin to spin around her. Echoing out in a series of waves, it’s as if everything’s begun to slow down. Her mind working to catch up with the rest of her surroundings. Somehow it makes her laugh despite how uncomfortable it is. The kind that Vesryn immediately clocks as an indication of her inebriation, making him sigh. 

“Probably shouldn’t have let you drink all that, huh?”

She hums in response and closes her eyes, feeling the weight of everything slowly drift away as her body starts to melt further into the chair. 

“How about I go make you a bed?” 

“No.”

“No?”

She blinks and laughs, forcing her eyes to focus on her friend. “I want to go home.”

“You are home?”

She shakes her head almost violently. “No, home.” 

He doesn’t know that home means camp. Or, more specifically, that home to her is where Astarion is. Nor does he understand the jumble of words that fall from her mouth immediately after. “Zayis, you are way too drunk to be arguing right now.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying!”

He can’t help but laugh as he stands up, moving towards her to help pull her to her feet. “Saying what?”

“I want to see Fangs,” she whines, and before she knows it she’s being guided towards the door by her old flame’s hands without another word. Tiredly leaning against his shoulder as they walk down the darkened street.

“Where am I taking you?”

Through slurred speech she directs him to her camp, explaining the quickest route with the kind of drunken hand gestures Vesryn can’t help but mock. 

“Shut up, I’m drunk.” 

“I can tell.”

“And I’m tired.” 

“No kidding.”

“I think I might be in love, too.”

At that Vesryn stops walking, causing her to sort of bump into his arm and swear under her breath, grumbling about his lack of coordination before the words she’s uttered circle back to her. Forcing her eyes to widen as her stomach starts to twist, realizing what she’s done. Registering the fact that she just admitted out loud that her feelings are valid and not just ridiculous moments of lust clouding her vision.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Despite the context, Vesryn can’t help but laugh, watching as Zayis begins to breathe with her entire chest. The fabric of her tunic rising and falling in rapid succession as her eyes dart back and forth. 

“I think I’m in love with Astarion,” she then says before slamming her lips shut, feeling her face grow hot and her hands begin to sweat. Every part of her body working against her as she suddenly bolts down the street, listening to Vesryn’s footsteps work to keep up. 

“Wait a minute, how long has this been going on?”

Unsurprisingly, Zayis ignores him, swearing under her breath when she comes to a street she doesn’t notice, forcing Vesryn to grab her arm and redirect her. 

“Do you think he loves you back?”

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean you don’t know?”  

She repeats the same answer in frustration, throwing her hands up to cover her eyes, knowing now she’s fucked. Completely and totally fucked because despite knowing how foolish it is to fall in love with someone like Astarion she’s managed to do just that.

“Okay, well do you want to know?”

He asks the question like it’s a simply gained answer. As if asking Astarion about his feelings is something Zayis can do without feeling humiliated.

Because truthfully, she knows if asked, not only would she be met with that teasing voice of Astarion telling her I told you so regardless of the answer, but she’d also be forced to live with the fact that Vesryn was right all along.

“Can we please talk about something else?”

Quickening her pace, she can feel her legs begin to ache from the events of the day. All of the hours of travelling and fighting piling onto her weakened knees as she pushes forward. 

Watching her struggle, Vesryn follows behind almost cautiously, trying his best not to hover while remaining close. Well aware at any second she might just fall to the ground thanks to the alcohol. 

“I think maybe we should just get you home, yeah? I’m sure your boyfriend is worried sick.” 

Before he can even laugh at his poorly timed joke she’s turning to swing her fist at his head, causing him to grab her wrist in annoyance.

“C’mon Punchy, let’s not keep your leech waiting.”

Frowning in response she allows him then to guide her the rest of the way. Keeping his arm loosely wrapped around her shoulder for support, she dizzily latches onto his side, resting her head against his chest. Trying her best to ignore the sickness that resides at the base of her stomach as they continue forward, eventually making it to camp. 

“You know, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be.”

While glaring at Vesryn she can feel her head begin to pound. The space behind her eyes where the tadpole resides ringing out in a painful rhythm of words. All of them loud and irate, saying something she can’t quite understand.

At which point she begins to descend without warning, causing Vesryn to swear and catch her arm, watching anxiously as she moves one hand to her temple.

“Zay?”

When she doesn’t immediately respond he maneuvers her to the ground, kneeling in front of her with nervous hands to hold her face, searching for further signs of distress until she’s completely still again. 

“Sorry, that uh, happens sometimes.”

“What?”

“The tadpoles,” she mumbles, brushing his hands away to rub her eyes, feeling the pain still linger behind them but at a much smaller scale. “Sometimes when one of us gets a bit emotional or something they…” 

As she trails off with a yawn she attempts to mime the word connection by pressing her index fingers together in front of her. A motion Vesryn thankfully understands, nodding his head in response. 

“We don’t—“

The sound of a clearing throat pulls her away from the conversation. Her eyes shifting from Vesryn’s face towards a very pissed-off Astarion now standing in front of them with his hands on his hips. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

Instantly, both she and Vesryn jump to speak, their voices fumbling over each other until Zayis eventually turns back and frowns, prompting Vesryn to innocently raise his hands and stand up. 

“Ves was just bringing me home.”

“At this hour?” Astarion asks, his voice lower than normal. Angrier even. A rumble of sound emanating from his chest as he crouches down to face her —instantly smelling the drink on her breath. “Wait a minute, you’re drunk.”

“Am not,” she slurs, grinning. Expecting him to grin back or crack some sort of joke. Not shift his jaw and stand as he does, moving towards Vesryn faster than she can think to blink. 

“I always knew you were an idiot,” she hears him say, watching him reach for Vesryn’s clothes. Gripping the collar of his shirt with such ferocity that the only sound that Zayis hears after that is the sudden groan her old partner lets out.

Which makes her panic, realizing then that Astarion isn’t just pissed —he’s livid. Red not only in the eyes but also in the face, prompting her to try and stand up only to fall back down thanks to the lightness that travels throughout her head.

“What’d you do to her, huh? Get her drunk and then take advantage of her?”

Trying but ultimately failing to speak over Astarion’s angered assumptions, Zayis eventually opts to reach for the fabric of his pants instead. Pulling at the base of his calf to gain his attention, muttering his name through the mess of sounds until she’s been ushered to her feet by a pair of arms.

“I see the apology’s going well,” Wyll says, and immediately she whips her head to face him in response, taking in the humoured expression across his face before turning back to see the two men being ripped away from each other by Karlach’s brute force. Both of them continuing their attempts at violence. 

“This isn’t how we treat our guest, Fangs,” Karlach scolds, but Astarion’s already cursing Vesryn’s name. Using whatever insult he can think of to throw the poor man’s way. Ignoring Karlach’s plea for him to shut up even when she threatens to knock him out cold if he doesn’t behave.

Which only causes more issues when the rest of the camp begins to realize what’s going on. All of them piling out of their tents to watch this ridiculous display of angry men fighting over an issue neither of them really have much control over. Considering Zayis is drunk and now grumbling into the crook of Wyll’s neck trying her best not to cry at the sight of Karlach shoving Astarion towards Lae’zel, it’s obvious that the best thing to do is drop it. 

Or at least, put a pin in it until morning. Which is exactly what Gale suggests when he wanders towards Lae’zel’s side, smirking at their not-so-friendly vampire before making some sort of backhanded compliment that has Astarion lunging towards him with a hiss. 

“Alright, alright. No need to maim the wizard,” Gale mutters, darting back. “I’m just here for the show not to get roped into any audience participation.” 

After that, Zayis hears Wyll sigh in defeat as he runs his palm along the length of his face, trying his best to comfort her as she continues to wrap herself around him, digging her claws into his clothes while her tail grips tightly onto his legs. 

“I think we should probably get her some water,” he says, prompting Shadowheart to move towards Vesryn, placing a hand on his shoulder as she asks him if he needs any healing.

While shaking his head he ends up glancing over at Zayis who already looks like she’s dead to the world. Still grumbling incoherently under her breath, it’s as if her mind has been turned to sludge as Wyll drags her over to the fire, placing her gently on the ground. Practically forcing a stream’s worth of water down her throat by the time Shadowheart wanders over, casting whatever restoration magic she’s got left. 

“That fool of yours is lucky Karlach showed up when she did,” she mutters, moving to place either hand on Zayis’s face. Allowing the magic to spread through her cheeks like an icy veil, wrapping around heated flesh. Providing the perfect amount of relief for the tadpole behind her eye to settle back into its dormant state. 

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Karlach’s taking him home.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Zayis continues to drink through the process. Feeling the water soothe her aching throat as Shadowheart continues to speak, scolding her for being so stupid. 

“Gods, I can’t believe you let him get you drunk.”

“I didn’t let him do anything,” Zayis snaps, her eyes narrowing in annoyance, watching as her two friends share an unimpressed look. “I got nervous.” 

“And drank an entire bar?”

For some reason that makes Wyll snort, prompting Zayis to reach out and yank his horn, causing the warlock to groan and swat her away. “Hey! She’s right, you know!”

Regardless of whether or not they are, Zayis opts to go silent after. Sitting angrily between the two of them, she lets Shadowheart finish her spell before muttering out a quiet thanks. The kind that Shadowheart almost immediately reciprocates with an unenthusiastic no problem before retreating to her tent. Leaving just herself and Wyll to stew in the awkward silence of her actions as she continues to sip her water. Paying no mind to the curious eyes that dart between the camp and her face, picking apart the expressions that absentmindedly shift the longer she sits.  

“So, uh, do you want to talk about what happened or would you rather wallow?” 

Earning no response, Wyll sighs, prompting Zayis to look over with a frown. Both of them staring at each other, wishing that she’d just come out and say whatever needs to be said instead of rotting away, pretending like her actions are something other than self-inflicted wounds. 

“I promise no judgement, you know.” 

“I know. I’m just —I think I should probably talk to him first.” 

“Not sure he’s interested in talking.” 

Zayis snorts out of habit, moving a hand to rub her eyes, feeling her head swirl. “Fair. I probably wouldn’t want to talk to me either.”

“I’m sure if you give him time,” Wyll suggests, and even though she knows he’s right all she can feel is the lack of patience beginning to settle in. The undeniable urge to jump to her feet and run to his side almost doubling on impact. The temptation to confess all the thoughts that have plagued her mind over the last few weeks making their presence known.

It forces her to chug a few more glasses of water in silence. Trying her best to remain as rational as possible. Or at least, until she’s able to fully stabilize her thoughts in the form of a pros and cons list that Wyll almost immediately interrupts. 

“I know you say you are, but are you truly alright?”

At first, she doesn’t have an answer. Too focused on trying to figure out whether it’s a pro or a con to storm into Astarion’s tent, she hardly registers the words. Instead finding herself at a mental crossroads, debating the level of sobriety needed to confess one’s love before it becomes insulting. But then her mind catches up. Slowly but surely taking in the words. Feeling the genuine curiosity in his voice sound almost paranormal. As if he’s already used the tadpole to burrow into her mind and find the answer for himself.

Not that he’d need to, to know that she’s the opposite of alright. 

Even before arriving, she’d been on the absolute edge of sanity. Struggling to choose which battle to tackle first, since entering the walls of Baldur’s Gate it’s felt like she’s been pulled every which way. Slowly becoming stretched to the point of ripping. 

Which she wants to admit. But thanks to the guardedness of her brain, all she’s able to say is that she’s tired. That the well within her soul has sufficiently dried up leaving nothing more than a hole in the ground, waiting for its fill once again. 

With a sigh, Wyll slides a little closer and nudges her leg, offering support in whatever way he can as she glances at him, silently pleading for advice. 

“You need to rest, Zay.”

Genuinely curious, she looks at him with half-lidded eyes. The glassy look of drunkenness still heavily visible. “How?”

“By allowing your problems to run their course rather than trying to direct them yourself.”

Leaning forward, she groans into her hands. The emptiness of her head making it hard for her to understand the riddles Wyll often speaks in. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

Letting out a soft laugh, his hand finds its way to one of her horns to reciprocate that same push from earlier, forcing her to grumble under her breath. 

“It means you should go to bed.”

Groaning in response, she debates whether or not to argue, feeling her eyes shift towards Astarion’s tent —feeling that inevitable pull behind her eye, begging for her to curl up against his frame regardless of whatever fight might unfold. 

“Okay. But not because you told me too,” she eventually says, and Wyll just smiles and ushers her to her feet, forcing one final glass of water into her hand. 

“One more for the road, okay?”

All she does is nod her head and slowly make her way towards the tent. Staring intensely at the ground beneath her, she maneuvers around roots and rocks, trying her best not to let the remnants of leftover inebriation overtake her ability to function. 

Which proves easy up until she makes it to the tent. Feeling her vision shift in and out of focus as she attempts to push open the flap, there’s a moment where she sways back and has to catch herself, causing her lips to part into an awkward squeal. 

“What the hells are you doing?” Astarion says, and before she can even think to correct her footing she’s somehow pressed against his chest with her glass of water nowhere to be seen. Her body suddenly feeling warm thanks to the way his hands snake around her waist, tightly gripping the flesh beneath her shirt. Reminding her that despite the intimate position she finds herself in, he’s definitely still unimpressed. 

“How come you’re mad?” 

His eyes narrow, becoming two thin slits of rage that successfully scare her into submission, prompting her to swallow hard and sit up on her knees, feeling his hands tighten even more. “Are you seriously asking me that?” 

Following her lead, he forces himself to release her waist in order to lean into her, practically pressing his forehead against hers. “I mean, honestly, do you have any sense of self-preservation or do you just choose to act like an idiot?”

Immediately she blinks, processing his words. Marinating in the meaning until she fully understands. “You know, Vesryn isn’t an enemy —he’s a friend.”

“I’d argue otherwise, but I suppose your choice in friends has always been questionable.” 

Feeling the liquor rush through her system, she quickly reaches out to grab his shoulder, steadying herself against the sway that overtakes. Fully pressing her forehead against his despite wanting nothing more than to wrap her hand around his skinny little neck and—

“You didn’t tell me you were going to see him.”

Her mouth opens to respond —to tell him that it doesn’t matter— but then she stops, pulling away to explore the hurt expression across his face. Specifically the focused look within his eyes that fail to falter for even a second. 

“I didn’t think I had to.” 

“I suppose you don’t but—” 

“But what then?”

“But a courtesy would’ve been nice,” he practically snaps. “Or a simple warning at the very least —I think I deserve at least that.”

She looks at him confused then. Unsure what exactly he means, her lips part to ask, watching as his expression slowly matches hers. Both of them staring in anticipation for an answer that never comes. 

“You know I just went there to talk, right?” Her voice struggles through the fog that hits her head, causing her to frequently pause between words. “I didn’t go there to do whatever it is you’re…”

Trailing off, she wiggles her fingers, trying her best to insinuate that whatever assumptions he has are wrong. And that he’s being stupid, but she’s too drunk to incorporate that accordingly. 

So instead, she just settles for the former, watching the way his nose scrunches up, pulling at his upper lip to reveal the tips of his fangs. An expression that makes her wonder if maybe her words aren’t matching up with her thoughts, prompting her to sigh and move her hands to her face. 

“Fuck, I’m too drunk for this.” 

“Yeah, that’s becoming apparent.” 

For some reason that makes her laugh weakly. “I just… I don’t want to fight anymore. Not for this.”

“Then what do you want to fight for?” 

Pushing her hands further into the sockets of her eyes, she feels her head pound in frustration. All of her thoughts piling to the forefront of her mind, screaming at her to settle this once and for all. To tell him that she doesn’t want to fight anymore. To say that, instead of pressing their knives to each other’s throats time and time again, all she wants to do is toss them aside and kiss the scars they’ve inflicted. 

But because she’s drunk —because she can’t think without the whole process becoming far more difficult than it should be— all she does is move into him. Allowing her body to speak for itself in the form of a desperate hug, she wraps her arms around his shoulder before he guides her down into the bedroll. 

“Alright, easy does it, darling,” Astarion grumbles, his angered tone failing to match the sweetness of his words, prompting Zayis to frown and turn her back to him. 

“Don’t call me that. I’m mad at you.” 

“Since when?”

“Since you decided to be mad at me for no reason,” she says, causing Astarion to huff as he begins to run his fingers through the roots of her hair —feeling the familiar presence of her tail slowly wrap around his thigh. 

“Once again, I’d argue such a statement but clearly you’re too far gone to be able to defend yourself.” 

“Fuck you, I can do anything.”

“Agree to disagree.” 

“Agree to —shut up, Astarion.” 

Releasing a heavy sigh, he reluctantly continues his ministrations despite the abuse. Pressing the pads of his fingers deeply into the base of her skull. 

“Go to sleep, Zay. We can fight in the morning.”

In response, she grumbles out in protest. Ultimately failing to convey her disinterest as his fingers lower to the back of her head, following the line of her braid until he hits the end and begins to undo it. Then, with careful hands he works his way back up, feeling her slowly drift beneath his touch.

“Gods, sometimes I wonder if loving you is even worth the headache,” he tells her, unaware of the sliver of consciousness that manages to linger. Even when she nervously stirs at his words, wondering if she heard him correctly. 

Because there’s no way he loves her, right? Too focused on what he gains from being around her rather than her herself, there’s not a single chance he cares. That’d be impossible. Unthinkable. An admittance so beyond logic that as she lays there, eyes shut tight, she has to force herself to ignore it. To chalk his strange confession up to the liquor poisoning her mind with outlandish thoughts. 

Which thankfully isn’t hard given how drunk she still is. In fact, with very little effort, it only takes a few minutes of Astarion’s fingers moving through her hair to fully render her useless. Her body curling under the blanket, unaware of the restlessness Astarion experiences as the hours pass. Oblivious to the fact that, even before she wakes up, he’s already gone. 

Becoming nothing more than a vacant space that leaves her confused when she eventually rolls over hours later, groaning at the pain that rips through her skull, remembering everything that happened. Specifically, the words he may have said to her last night —the ones so far from reality that she can’t help but wonder if it was merely just a figment of her imagination. 

Hearing them echo in her mind, she palms the sockets of her eyes and sits up, feeling the aches and pains of the previous hours seep into her bones. Taking refuge in her muscles to the point that not even she can deny how much of a struggle it is to crawl around the sun-kissed tent, searching for the cup of water Wyll gave her last night before downing it in one huge gulp. 

Unsurprisingly it feels like a gift from every God combined. A blessing of liquid that provides her with enough energy to shakily crawl through the opening of the tent, squinting at the newfound light that hits her face.

Somehow it’s already sunrise. Even though it felt like she was maybe asleep for a couple of minutes, it’s obvious now that she got at least a few hours in. Something she’s thankful for as she wanders over to the pile of supplies by the put-out fire, rooting through the various bags until she finds a canteen of water. 

At which point she begins to drink and aimlessly walk, forcing her tired legs to move through the length of the camp and past the tree line, weaving through the obstacles of nature until she’s standing at the edge of a hill. 

Looking up, there’s a moment or two where she debates turning back. But then her body starts to move without warning, pushing her further and further past the threshold of capability she should have after a night of heavy drinking and emotional warfare. Disregarding the burn that envelops practically every fibre of her being until she hits the top.

Then she’s doubling over in pain, on the verge of tears, feeling the desire to give up filter through her determination, making her second guess her actions until she hears someone huff. 

“You look like a corpse,” Astarion says. “And not a fresh one either.”

Forcing out a laugh, she squints to see him sitting on a stump a few feet away with a mug of tea in his hand —another at his side like always. “Morning to you, too.” 

“Morning.”

His voice is quiet as he turns to look at the rising sun. Ignoring her as she moves toward him, taking the cup that rests beside him into her hands before she sits in its place. “Thanks.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t respond. Instead, he just sips the tea and continues to soak in the light as he often does. Paying no mind to Zayis as she takes a sip of her own, staring at the side of his face.

“Did you rest at all?”

All he does is shake his head. 

“When did you leave?”

“Not long after you fell asleep.” 

Humming in response, she turns away to look at the sky herself, allowing her mind to drift to last night. Hearing that single word uttered over and over again in her mind until it doesn’t sound like a word at all. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.” 

Releasing an annoyed breath, she takes another sip before she continues. “Always does, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

After that, she sees him sort of smirk against the edge of his cup, prompting her to quietly groan and ditch the idea altogether. Feeling the walls of her heart begin to make their way up again —discarding whatever idea might’ve crossed her mind to even think about letting them down in the first place. 

Something Astarion immediately notices. Having failed to ask her question, he quickly turns to face her, exploring her features —noticing the sudden lack of curiosity that immediately befalls her face. “That’s it then?”

“What?”

“No question? No pretty little morning argument?”

She looks at him confused, her jaw dropping slightly open. 

“Not even a single threat relating to bodily harm?”

“I—“

“My, my, have you gone soft or something, darling?” he asks; his tone changing. Morphing to have this venomous quality, Zayis immediately scoffs at. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders and turns away, pretending like there’s no reasoning behind his words. Acting as if there's no fight to pick despite there very clearly being one.

“You know, if you have a problem with my behaviour you can just come out and say it instead of waiting for me to figure it out myself.” 

In response, he lets out quite possibly the fakest laugh she’s ever heard. “I could. Though, we both know that even if you did figure it out, you wouldn’t talk about it anyway. You don’t do emotions.”

“Neither do you.”

“Actually I—“

Without warning she stands up to chuck the mug over the edge of the hill, groaning from the pain of her muscles —trying her best to ignore the way they pull in strange ways as she turns to glare in his direction. “No, you know what? You don’t get to act like an asshole just because you’re mad that I didn’t tell you I was seeing Vesryn!”

“Oh, please, I’m not mad about that!” Standing up, he discards his mug on the stump and takes a step forward. Inserting himself into her space, watching her follow his lead until they’re practically nose to nose. “What I’m mad at is your lack of attention —for your inability to look around and see what you so clearly deserve!”

“Deserve?” Pressing a rough hand to his chest, she forces him back only to step forward, watching his eyes narrow in annoyance —his hands darting out to grip her wrists once she’s close enough. “You think this mistreatment is what I deserve?”

As she struggles against his hold, both of them bare their teeth in frustration. Neither one of them willing to admit their respective thoughts until Astarion’s eventually the first to cave, growling under his breath.

“No, but sometimes I think you believe that,” he says, his voice lowering. The sound of it reverberating through his chest like an avalanche Zay can’t help but stand at the bottom of, wondering when she’ll inevitably perish beneath it. 

Because that’s what it feels like sometimes, being around him. Oftentimes while attempting to navigate all the feelings that erupt each time he picks a fight, she has to hear things she doesn’t want to. To listen to the truth time and time again, despite wanting nothing more than to run from it. Almost every time it makes her breathless, hearing the way he picks her soul apart each time she gives him the chance. Feeling fine one moment and lost the next as he continues to speak. 

“Is that why you won’t talk to me? Why, despite all the times I’ve confided in you, you refuse to offer the same in return? Because you’re punishing yourself?”

Taking it all in, her gaze flickers down to his hands, watching them slip up her wrists, slowly moving to turn her palms to the sky so that he can gently rest his own on top. Inhaling deeply, it’s as if the weight of them are suddenly all over her body. Pressing roughly against her chest and arms —grabbing hold of her feet so that they keep her in place despite wanting nothing more than to run. To swallow whatever pride she has left and disappear for good. 

To pretend like he isn’t working up to some huge confession despite wanting nothing more.  

“Zayis?”

“What?”

She doesn’t mean to snap. But regardless, the word comes out like a bite, latching onto his throat. The tips of them diving into his flesh before he can even think to recoil. 

It makes him falter for a second. The entirety of his body twitching against the rise of her voice before he eventually puffs back up again, sighing so hard the only thing she feels afterward is the echo of his breath. 

“Gods, for once will you just fucking talk to me?” he then pleads, gripping the base of her fingers so tightly she ends up wincing. “Please.” 

“What do you want me to say, Astarion? That I’m punishing myself because I’m scared?”

“If that’s the reason, yes!”

“And what if I don’t know the reason?”

“Then—“

Suddenly, she rips her hands from his to move them to her face, pressing the pads of her fingers roughly against her temples. Shakily circling the flesh as she heavily exhales, trying to collect her thoughts as he takes another step forward, tugging her close by the waist. Forcing his fingers beneath the hem of her untucked shirt. 

“Tell me then. Are you punishing yourself because you feel guilty for what you’ve done? Or are you punishing me because the mere thought of either of us deserving each other is too much to bear?” 

It’s the kind of question that has her fearing for her life. Regardless of how many enemies she’s fought over the past few weeks. As she stares into Astarion’s eyes, watching the deep red rings nearly disappear behind narrowed lids, she has to force herself to stay. Knowing that if she doesn’t, she’ll just wind up back where she started: all alone, wishing just once she could have something real.

Because with Vesryn, it never was. Despite the adoration that still presents itself each time they’re together, that’s all it ever really grew to become. Two people admiring each other for reasons unrelated to love. Not people who fought tooth and nail just to earn the bare minimum. People who, despite everyone telling them to quit while they’re ahead, continued to choose each other above all else. 

Which makes looking at Astarion that much harder. As he bears his soul in his own way, asking her for something in return, it makes her realize that the reason she fears so much isn’t because she feels guilty for abandoning Vesryn but because she fears the judgement of it. Always self-critical of her own actions thanks to the scrutiny of her upbringing, it’s hard to look at what’s in front of her and not assume the worst. Considering they already bring out the worst in each other pretty much constantly, it’s obvious there’s always been some reservations. Despite being fully aware of their similarities and the chemistry that presents itself when needed, at all times there always seems to be a voice at the back of her mind telling her she’s stupid for thinking things might work out.

Because honestly, it probably won’t. Not with the way Astarion’s looking at her with those eyes or the way he’s practically clawing at her hips, begging for her to stay. Coaxing her into this false world where the two of them fall in love and get the happy ending neither of them really deserves. 

It isn’t realistic. Or truthful in any way, which is why when she speaks she doesn't lie or even coat the truth in honeyed words. 

“I don’t feel guilty,” she starts, dropping her hands to gently hold the crook of his elbows —feeling her tail follow behind and absentmindedly slink around his waist. “Ves and I —we weren’t good together.”

“Why?”

She looks away, pursing her lips as he nudges her closer. Pulling her eyes back in almost immediately. Keeping her there with him no matter what. “We never had this.”

“And what is this?”

“Lust? Love? I don’t...”

Trailing off, she shakes her head and closes her eyes, hearing that voice inside her head telling her this is wrong. That he and her and everything shared over the last few weeks has been nothing but a ploy. A tactic used to get what he needs out of her before he—

He interrupts her thoughts by grabbing her chin. Running his thumb along the space just below her lip, he then cocks his head and sort of smiles. “This isn’t just lust, you know,” he tells her, and suddenly it’s like she’s back at the tiefling party again, catching his gaze between moments of mingling, unable to deny the mutual attraction as he inevitably flirts his way beneath her clothes.

“It isn’t?”

Softly, his finger rises to touch her lower lip. Pulling it down ever so slightly, she sees his lips part into a toothy grin that has her heavily breathing, wondering if this is it. The moment she completely falls apart into his arms with no escape plan. The one where he says those magic little words and she falls headfirst into the palm of his hand.

“Not anymore.”

“Then… what is it now?” 

Whether it’s because he doesn’t know or he wasn’t expecting her to ask, Astarion’s rendered speechless. With his mouth partially open in surprise, not a sound comes out once the question is asked, prompting Zayis’s stomach to twist into knots so far beyond untangling that she honestly feels like she might pass out. 

Because of the sheer anticipation alone, she’s already struggling to breathe. Feeling her lungs begin to cave under the pressure of his silence, she finds herself acting before thinking. Moving before speaking. Granting herself the chance to take matters into her own hands as they rise to cup his cheeks. 

Beneath her fingertips, he feels colder than she remembers. Stinging her digits like slabs of carved-out ice, she lets her thumbs trail over the peaks and valleys of his face —exploring the highest points of his cheekbones down to the hollowness of his under-eyes. Memorizing every part with careful hands. Watching his expression change as she begins to lean in, bumping the tip of her nose against his before letting out the shakiest breath that’s probably ever existed. 

“Well, whatever it is, I hope it’s worth the headache,” she then says, feeling his hand slip from her chin to wrap around the back of her head. Both of them moving in to cross the one boundary that’s never been crossed. Neither of them caring that in the process their fangs knock haphazardly together before quickly finding their rhythm. 

Which surprises her if she’s honest. After always feeling like they’re on opposing sides, for a moment it doesn’t make much sense to her. As his lips gently shift to slot themselves against hers, it shouldn’t feel this perfect. It should be difficult like everything else. A battle of power and tension. Not easy. Not like she’s breathing or walking or driving a knife into someone’s chest. 

No, it should be harder than this. More complicated. A process so painstakingly awful that her mind should be telling her it isn’t worth it and run.

Except she can’t, can she? Not when his hands feel like they’re moulded to her frame —how his palms seem to rest perfectly against her head and hip, still pulling her in. All while slowly devouring her mouth with careful nips and licks that have her practically clawing for more. Her hands exploring his neck and hair, unable to choose which spot to settle into. 

It makes him grin against her, prompting her to frown in response, not sure why he finds the act so funny. Or why he ends up pulling away so quickly afterward, brushing away loose hairs that have fallen in front of her face. 

“Bit rude of you to throw my own words back in my face like that.” 

Almost angrily she reaches down to grip the collar of his shirt, attempting to shut him up with another kiss but failing when he grabs her wrist. 

“Greedy little thing.”

“Shut up.” 

In response, he hums in amusement and leans in to graze her ear with his lips. “One taste and you’re already begging for more, hm?”

“Gods, you’re insufferable.” 

“And you’re just pathetic, aren’t you?”

His lips peel into a smirk that has her angrily maneuvering him back to her mouth, digging her fingers into the roots of his hair as well as his shirt —ignoring the way he laughs through another hum while giving in. 

A laugh that has her heart foolishly swelling against her ribcage, threatening to burst as he begins to drag her down towards the ground, neither one of them caring how the dirt instantly clings to their clothes or how itchy the grass feels against their exposed skin, because right now, all they care about is this. These somewhat tender moments spent discarding shirts and pants —both of them awkwardly laughing through the mess of limbs that bump against each other in the process.

Somehow, all of it feels too good to be true. Having waited years to properly feel his hands trailing up the length of her spine and his teeth nipping at her flesh as she rests on top, it feels like a projection of her desires come to life. The way he palms the back of her head, guiding his mouth to a particularly supple part of her neck. 

It immediately makes her eyes flutter shut, waiting for the moment he decides to strike. Becoming nothing more than teeth and hands working to take their fill. As she lies on top of him, breathing so hard she’s certain she's probably damaged her lung in the process, she can feel his tongue teasing the area. Poking out to coat her skin in saliva before he presses another opened-mouth kiss and pulls away.

“Can I?” he asks, and before she can even think she’s nodding mindlessly. Allowing whatever he wants to happen because the fight’s died out. Whatever need she once had to hold power over him lost the moment he smiles and kisses her lips, sucking away her air before he does the same with her blood.

At which point she’s almost certain she’s going to pass out. With the lack of oxygen and now that familiar pain plunging into the side of her neck, it’s a miracle that she’s still able to stabilize her body. As he begins to push in, she can’t help but jump from the contact, realizing how different it feels in comparison to something like her wrist. 

Because despite having experienced the sharpness of his teeth followed by the languid lapping of his tongue against far less intimate places, this feels completely different. More euphoric and intense —something she has to push through as the pain begins to meld into pleasure as the seconds pass.

Which isn’t all that difficult. Not when they’re holding onto each other for dear life, every so often shifting to get a better angle. Moaning under their breaths for different reasons despite sharing the experience. No longer trying to suppress the feelings that stir when Astarion inevitably pulls away, dripping in blood that she immediately moves to wipe away. 

“You eat like a starved boar,” she says, trying not to giggle at the way he chases her blood-stained fingers, somehow still desperate for more. 

“And you moan like a banshee.”

“I do not!”

Without warning he begins to mock the sound of her voice, throwing his head back, causing her to press her palm fully over his mouth. 

“Do you ever stop?”

His voice doesn’t carry through her hand so she reluctantly drops it, giving him a pointed look only to receive another grin. “Only if you want me to,” he then says, and almost immediately she feels her face begin to heat up, realizing that she doesn’t. That instead of stopping and taking a second to talk or even breathe all she wants is more. 

So, she responds with another kiss. Not caring about the taste of her blood on his lips or the desperate way she falls slack against his chest, feeling him twitch against her. As she licks the seam of his mouth right open, hungrily pushing her tongue to meet his own, she doesn’t care that he’s adjusting her hips. Grabbing hold of her flesh to position her over the tip of his cock.

With nothing but the sensations of their bodies hurriedly working to become one, she hardly registers anything other than the head teasing her folds, failing to fully enter since she keeps squirming. Something she doesn’t register until he bites her lip a bit too hard, prompting her to pull away and narrow her eyes, watching him frown. 

“Stop moving,” he says, but like always she ignores him, moving whatever way her body decides is right until he’s angrily groaning and turning them over, pinning her against the grass. “Brat.”

“Asshole.” 

He leans in to steal another kiss while using his hands to hold down her hips, feeling her grind against him. “Thorn in my side,” he mutters. 

His voice vibrates against her mouth in a way that has her absolutely reeling. Forcing her hands to dip down to his chest, tracing the carvings of his muscular structure as her tail wraps tightly around his thigh. 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“Pretty?” Somehow he sounds surprised. “Is that a genuine compliment?”

“Maybe.”

He hums and releases one of her hips, moving to grip his cock, giving it a few tentative strokes before lining himself up again. “Care to grace me with another one?”

Once again teasing her entrance, she finds herself shifting upwards, chasing the high of him. Following his sex in absolute misery trying to get him to give in without the need for praise.

“Or perhaps I should give that mouth something else to do?” 

Before she can even think of a clever response he’s moving in. Slowly dragging through her, making sure that the process of it all is almost painful due to its lack of speed. Stretching her out, there’s a brief moment where she has to reach for his arms. To tether herself to him in some other way as he moves just shy of the hilt, leaning down to grin. 

“I’m not hearing any words coming out of that mouth of yours.”

At first, she breaths, adjusting to the feeling of him slipping inside. Trying her best not to focus on the way she instinctively clenches around as she grits her teeth. 

“C’mon now,” he coos. Then ever so slightly he pulls back, dragging the pleasure out of her throat in the form of a moan. 

“Fuck, I love you,” she says, and immediately they both freeze. Neither one of them able to fully register the words until she opens her mouth again, stuttering out an apology. Scrambling to sit up and backtrack only to find herself being pinned back down and taken over.

Before she can even think the wicked snap of his hips quickly becomes enough of a distraction to forget what she just said. Thanks to the way he abruptly pushes and pulls only to slow it all down, it’s as if the regret evaporates into thin air. The phrase itself turning nothing more than a memory as she lets her hands roam across his back.

Now pressed against her, she feels his palm circle around to the base of her spine to create an arch. Providing both of them with a more comfortable angle for him to rut inside her, hardly caring that his pace has fallen out of time. No longer thinking about the finer details. 

Moving in tandem, their lips part so that she can finally breathe, showcasing the stains of blood that cover the lower half of her face, prompting Astarion to smile. 

“You’re perfect,” he tells her. “Better than perfect.” 

And in the moment, she’s tempted to ask what that means. Or to poke some sort of fun in return, but there’s too much happening. The overwhelming sensations of his cock and hands and the way her entire stomach jumps at the sound of his words becoming far more important than her habit of gaining the last word. 

Which only helps build the tension between her thighs. As he continues to jut forward only to slip back, suddenly there’s an additive of movement against her clit. The presence of trailing knuckles brushing, moving much slower than his hips. 

Almost lazily, they glide across her nerves in circles, steadily adding to the collection of pressure. Forcing the pulsing stack of pleasure she feels to become too much as she lets out a pathetic whine.

It’s the kind that has him falling apart. No longer able to keep any sort of pace at all, it’s as if he’s suddenly lost in the dark, struggling to maintain the path set out before him. Forgetting all about past instincts as drops to her chest, kissing her face and neck —licking away remnants of blood before continuing down. 

“Don’t stop,” she says, and even though she wouldn’t put it past him for doing so out of spite, she’s thankful he doesn’t. Instead, discarding all semblance of sense to guide her over the edge. 

Applying a rough bite to the top of one of her breasts, it’s at that moment that Zayis feels the scales tip in her favour. Manifesting in violent tremors that wreak havoc throughout her body, it’s as if she’s lying against the shore, letting the waves lap at her skin. Allowing their strength to pull her in without protest. 

Still above her, she can feel Astarion continuing. Too wrapped up in the feeling of her walls contracting on instinct, he sometimes falters but refuses to quit. Unable to stop even when she’s trying to pull away, the sensation of her orgasm becoming too much.

Because the feeling of that combined with the way he’s touching her —the way he’s pressed against her, practically consuming her skin with his sharp teeth— is hedonistic. An act of pure indulgence that has her joining it, allowing her tail to tangle around his waist as he continues to fuck her through her climax. Forcing her fingers to find a home in his hair, coaxing sweet sounds of pleasure from his pretty little lips. 

“Come for me,” she tells him then, pressing a kiss to his head, watching his neck crane upwards to capture her gaze as he heeds her call, quickly spilling out inside her cunt. No longer able to suppress the shakes that rattle against her thighs, she lets out a soft laugh.

Which prompts him to look up at her in confusion after he’s finally settled down. Noticing the warmth of her features just staring at him. “What?”

Almost immediately, she bites back a grin, trying her best not to make some obscene sound when he eventually slips out of her and falls to her side. “Nothing.”

Now on his back against the grass, he narrows his eyes at the sky above before glancing back over, shaking his head at her comment. Reaching out to playfully smack her face to the side before releasing a sigh. 

“You’re lucky I love you too,” he says, staring at her face —watching it quickly dart his way with widened eyes and parted lips. An obvious lack of thought gracing her mind until everything comes flooding back. 

Then all at once, every reservation disappears. Every hesitation or doubt ceasing to exist the moment she sees the subtle smirk that spreads. How it renders her beyond uselessness, unable to reply let alone breathe. 

“Rendered speechless?” he then teases, using what little energy he has left to prop himself up and lean over her, brushing his nose against hers. Letting the skin-on-skin contact further fluster her system. “That’s new.”

Greedily, she raises her head to kiss him. “So is telling me you love me.”

“So is…”

He trails off, unable to come up with a viable answer, prompting her to smirk back. 

“Gotcha.”

In response he reaches down to pinch her hip, making her squeal. “Careful now or I might put that mouth to better use.”

“Mm, maybe you should,” she teases, but before he can respond there’s a rustle in the bushes, prompting them both to stop in their tracks as they look down the path, noticing a familiar elf stepping towards them. 

Which makes Zayis swear under her breath. Pushing Astarion away, she hears him make a sound of disappointment as she scrambles for her clothes, tossing her tunic over her head before moving to stand —stopping at her knees when she sees Halsin look their way. 

“Ah, I see you two have decided to patch things up the old fashioned way,” he comments, smiling between the two of them. Failing to care about the state of their dress before he continues to walk past them with the gentle wave of his hand, causing Astarion to snort. 

“You know Halsin doesn’t—“

She tosses her pants at his head before he can finish, grumbling in embarrassment as he throws the fabric aside, once again pinning her against the grass with a rough kiss.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in reblogs)

#only fools fall #astarion x tav #astarion x original female characer #astarion x fem oc #zaystarion #knife fight #summer writes

[peachirambles]

I really like how you write!! :33 Could I request Qiu and Tamarack who starts off as a little rude, loud and easily angered kid in step 1 who becomes more cool and toned down in Step 2, and it turns out they just got better at hiding their feelings instead of actually changing. But every now and then when something really ticks them off and can't stand it anymore, they end up ranting to Qiu/Tamarack? (Both are crushes)

AW THANK YOU! And of course you can, I hope you enjoy headcanons. Also this mc just like me fr

<<<<< has anger issues

Tamarack Baumann

Tamarack knew their neighbor wasn't exactly the most cool headed kid, in fact they seemed to be always loud and angry about something when they were younger.

But now it was different for the most part, it looked like they had calmed down since they first moved to Golden Grove and Tamarack's feelings towards them... definitely evolved from a simple friendship

However, that wasn't exactly true either. The MC didn't really actually calm down, they just got better at hiding their feelings which... Tamarack could relate a lot to at this stage.

So when they do go to Tamarack to rant about, she is all ears. She'll even slide them some water so their throat doesn't get parched from ranting about something.

After they finally got all of that out of their system, she tries her best to give advice when needed but otherwise she's fully willingly to let the MC talk out their feelings

I do think as well Tamarack would really treasure the fact that the MC trusts her out of everyone and while she doesn't try to make a big deal out of it, she is doing so many mental flips and is just bursting to the seams with happiness that the MC chose her to be their confidant.

Qiu Lin

While Tamarack is way more supportive in the sense that she tries to give advice, Qiu ends up becoming the exact opposite in step two.

Of course, they want to help but their not helping by you know, actively giving them advice Tamarack does but they're very much the kind of person to be like "oh that guy is a fucking bitch, people fucking suck, etc" if you get my gist

In step 1, they probably did try to actively go out of their way to cool the MC down so their not actively rude and pissed off half the time. But step 2 Qiu? Yeah, yeah they don't give a single flying fuck. So when the MC rants to them, they probably egging them on a bit

Now, Qiu would also be in the same boat as Tamarack in feeling absolutely elated the MC is coming to them to rant. Instead of jumping with joy, however; their very much smug about it, to themself since they really don't have the energy to brag

I do want to say, though, that Qiu does pick up on the fact that the MC has gotten much better at hiding their feelings, and that is something Qiu is very much not a fan of.

Their glad that the MC does at least vent it out in some way, but it doesn't exactly soothe them that they have been bottling up their emotions that heavy either. They rather you be loud and angry at every little thing and have that anger pass then having you stew in your own feelings for Far too long

#our life now and forever #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #olnf qiu #olnf tamarack #candy headcanons