#i don't want to be sold something i want to hang out with people like me dammit

[tennybird]

"i want to go to pride this year, wonder what my city is doing"

[corporation sponsored pride event]

[another event created by a suspicious site that has "faith services" listed]

[lack of anyone who isn't white or skinny in any ads]

[evilminji]

You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?

Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?

The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.

And it WANTS?

To be a HOME™.

To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.

Come live in me~

I am a good home.

I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.

I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.

But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!

But... instead?

They are hurt.

Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.

It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.

When? Who should come along?

But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...

He's TIRED.

He wants to cry.

Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?

"Free House!"

Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!

Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?

Is he really gonna do this?

......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?

Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.

The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.

House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.

He probably SHOULD have.

Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.

No one can get near it.

It's been getting BIGGER.

Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.

Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.

Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?

@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes

[yawnderu]

"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Kidnapped Astarion

I have a very specific thing I can't stop thinking about. That involves Astarion getting kidnapped by Cazador for the ritual and him taunting him over the lie that Tav gave him away. Sold him even.

Tw: Lies, manipulation, mentions of torture, bad times had all around, it's long as fuck, betrayal (or at least the lie of it). Like Cazador is involved so all bad. Very bad. This also has VIOLENCE. Like canon game violence but it is BLOODY. You've been warned. Also happy ending :)

So now let's get to that angst:

It had all happened so fast.

One moment Astarion was laid back in the tent you share, reading a mediocre book as he impatiently waited for your return. He loathed when you went out without him, even if it was for good reason. He wasn't exactly welcome company when it came to solving Gale's problems, especially when it came to the bomb nestled in chest. You both knew his inability to keep his sarcastic quips to himself would not be an asset while exploring a sacred library. Besides, he didn't have much room to complain, not when he accompanied you on ninety-nine percent of your outings.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. Even if it was shaping up to be a nice, uneventful evening. He had set your tent a little farther away from the others, considering the complaints that some....well most had made about the volume of your nightly activities. It was quiet, peaceful even. The atmosphere tranquil enough for him to fully relax.

What a mistake that had been.

When the flap of the tent opened he didn't even look up, fully expecting it to be Shadowheart or Lae'zel coming round to dig about in his darling's things. It made sense, considering how it was one of the few times they wouldn't be risking walking in on something. You had such a bad habit with that "open door" policy of yours. One that had exposed nearly every party member to quite the show. Though in Astarion's view, they were just unreasonable. When you were both loud they complained. When you were quiet and they walked in on it they would whine even more. How could you win with people like that?

Perhaps a sign on the door would have done the trick, but Astarion would be lying if he didn't enjoy the others being fully aware of who could make you cry and moan. The risk was just more thrilling, if not the slightest bit annoying.

But the intruder was staying still at the opening, quiet as could be. It was odd enough to have Astarion glancing upward, his heart stopping in his chest at what he saw.

It was a man, frantically muttering something under his breath. A man that he recognized. The idiotic Petras, trying to cast some kind of incantation. It had Astarion scrambling upward, reaching for his dagger. But it was already too late. The spell was finished and Astarion could feel his senses start to fade away, one by one.

He had gotten sloppy, relying on the safety of camp that had never existed. And now he was paying the price, and what a price to pay. Even as he fell to the magic, one feeling managed to stay in place until the bitter end.

Terror.

And then, he felt nothing at all.

The next thing Astarion knew he was being awakened by a slap of cold water to his face, blinking up into horrifyingly familiar light. He immediately recognized where he was. The torture room, his arms hanging from the ceiling, his toes barely scraping the floor. It hurt to be suspended like this, a pain he was still so familiar with despite going months without. And in front of him was the cause of it all, sneering at him like the maniac he was.

Cazador.

"You're finally awake," He grinned, dropping the bucket that was in his hands, "You've been a very bad boy Astarion. Just what am I to do with you?"

Astarion wanted to answer, to curse at him, maybe even beg to just be left alone, but nothing came out. He was too stunned, too stupefied that he ended up here after everything he'd gone through. Everything you'd gone through. How could it end like this?

"I don't fully know what you were up to with all that time away from your family," Cazador continued, stepping close enough for Astarion to feel his disgusting breath on his skin, "But I think I may have the gist. Galivanting around with your merry-band of degenerates. Seems fitting."

Astarion gave a full-bodied flinch when Cazador started to graze along his collarbones with a gentle finger, his touch freezing and revolting. The gentleness wouldn't last, Astarion was surprised it was even there to begin with.

He should have realized there was a reason for it.

He trailed up his neck, stopping to trace a bruise you had left the night before. If only he had known that it was almost certainly the last time he would get to touch you. The realization was nearly enough to bring tears to Astarion's eyes, but he refused to cry in front of this creature, not if he could help it.

"Seems like you may have even found yourself a favorite amongst them. Tell me pet, who was it?"

"Fuck you." Astarion spat out, his fury managing to shine through his despair.

Astarion expected a hard slap for the insolence, but instead Cazador just laughed, loud and full-bellied, "You've gotten quite the temper since you've been away, haven't you? I wonder where that came about?"

It was a false question, Astarion could tell from the way his eyes were crinkled. Like a child excited to reveal a surprise. Cazador answered it for himself, "Is it that lovely little thing that you've been following around. Gods, what's their name again...Tav, is it?"

"Don't you dare say her name," Astarion growled, his righteous fury overcoming the ever-growing terror and dread, "They have nothing to do with this!"

"Oh but they do," Cazador grinned, stepping back to do one of his famous gloating sessions, "Just how do you think I found you? Luck? No my dear, you were given."

Astarion's answer was as immediate as it was hateful, "You're lying! You know nothing of them. Nothing of us."

He won't believe it, he has no reason to. You...you loved him. And you were probably looking for him as they spoke. You would never betray anyone like this, least of all him.

But Cazador remained unphased. If anything he was looking at him with pity, "Oh you poor thing. You think she cares? You think she loves you? I'm disappointed Astarion, it seems you've learned nothing from our time together. What is there to love, hm? Nothing that I can see. Though...they sure did seem to love the gold. You fetch quite the high price my dear. But it will be worth it."

Lies. It was all lies. It had to be. Astarion shoved his uncertainty back down, bellowing out, "Liar!"

It was forceful enough to even make Cazador falter for the briefest of moments, a split second that anyone else would have missed. But he pressed on, shaking his head, "Darling, don't you find it strange that you were all alone that day? That no one came to your aid? Where do you think you're love was, hm? Wait, don't tell me. I can remember...ah yes! With Gale, correct?"

Astarion swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. How...how did he know that?

"It was a fabulous excuse, was it not?" Cazador continued with a laugh, "We came up with that one together. After a little fun that is. I can see why you fell for their treachery Astarion, they are quite lovely, aren't they?"

No. No, no, no.

"Stop it," Astarion hissed, "Shut your mouth. I-It's not true."

"Oh but it is. I'm not sure if you're aware but you're quite the headache darling, not many can handle it. Not including myself. She even told me of that hilarious speech you gave. About wanting something real. It was just as funny to her as it was to me."

Astarion stared at him, at a complete loss for words. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. But...how else would he know that? In a camp full of people why did no one come to his aid? But the cruelty of it all...it was exactly the type of thing Cazador was versed in.

Setting up the same type of trap that he'd trained Astarion for, that he had used on others countless times. And he fell for it, he lost the game he thought he'd mastered.

His faith was slipping, hard and fast when he asked the horrible question, "How do you know that?"

"Because I sent them to you," He said with that disgusting grin, "It was no coincidence that you met. You were kidnapped, I needed you back, so I hired some help. It's a pity that they were captured as well. The pause to our plans was quite inconvenient. Our Tav just can't help but get distracted, can she?"

"No..." The word slipped out of Astarion without his consent, his mind racing. That couldn't be true. It didn't make sense. T-There had to be another explanation. If he could just think he'd find it. But...what point was there? He was already captured, taken. If anything, all of this being a grand scheme from Cazador was more logical than someone loving him.

He had gone through many, many tortures during his time here. Unspeakable, horrible things that he would never wish on anyone, excluding the man in front of him. But this...this was the worst thing he'd ever done to him. He had tricked him, you had tricked him, and he whole-heartedly fell for it, like the fool he was. The fool he would die as.

He didn't know it was possible, but this would be the greatest pain he ever knew. He was sure of that. Cazador had managed to do it. He had broken him, finally.

His tears were falling on their own accord, plentiful and pathetic. Cazador cooed at him, tracing his cheek with his horrid hand, "It hurts, doesn't it? I missed that expression on you my boy. You were always at you're prettiest when you had given up."

He wiped Astarion's tears away, gently holding his face as he spoke, "If only this was enough. The things I want to do to you for running away... I want to make you scream, make you beg for death. Just like how things used to be. If only we had the time."

Cazador let go, stepping back with a sigh, "How I wish that they had gotten you to me earlier. Though it's too late to pout about it now, the preparations are almost complete. But don't fret my boy, your end will have the meaning that your life failed to posses. Come along now."

Astarion hung there, limp as Cazador unhooked him from above. This was it. He was going to die here, as nothing but a pawn. He didn't even try to fight it when he was led down, deep into the palace to a place he'd never known existed. He kept his eyes closed for most of the journey, simply for the fact that he didn't have the strength to keep them open.

It was...a horrendous feeling to be incased in that red energy, floating in the air with all of his brothers and sisters as Cazador finished his preparations. It forced his eyes open against his will, making him see the hell that had been hiding beneath his feet all these years. He had been wrong about the sacrifice it seemed, it wasn't just them. There were thousands of bodies, barely alive in hanging cages, strewn throughout the place.

It was horrible, but fitting. Where else would something like him die? All he wished was that Cazador would hurry, so he could be done with it all. He has to much time to think in these last moments, too much time to examine your betrayal.

He...hates you. For it all. He hates you more than anything, enough for that same fury to come bubbling back to the surface. How dare you do this to him, after everything you'd been through. He should have killed you while you slept, while you let him drink from your throat. He should have killed them all, the vile sacks of shit.

If his soul ever found it's way back from the hell it was about to be damned too, he'd find you. His revenge was no longer reserved for Cazador, but for the wretched bitch hat tortured him in ways he didn't even think were possible. He'd do worse to you than anyone could imagine.

You were the cruelest thing to ever exist, as heartless and horrid as the monster before him.

So why was he still crying over it?

It didn't matter anyway. Not now. Now, all he could do was wait for the bitter end.

But then...he felt something. A familiar presence tickling the back of his mind. A barely there whisper, no words that he could make out. But it was getting stronger. Clearer.

It...it was you. Calling out to him with your illithid connection, begging for an answer.

My love, where are you? Astarion please, please tell me your there. Help me find you.

He can scarcely believe it. But he wasn't going to wait for his emotions to catch up to what could be an escape. He was screaming in his brain, trying to send out any signal that he could.

I'm here. I'm here. Don't let him take me. Please.

He could hear you in his head, the sheer relief from your mind nearly overwhelming, I'm coming. Hold on, I'm coming.

Astarion didn't even have the time to doubt. Because the next moment you were bursting through the ornate doors, nearly your entire team in tow.

Astarion had never seen you look the way you did then. He was so used to your kindness, the warmth and light that you tried to spread everywhere you went. You were always smiling, always laughing, always trying to share the same with others.

But now you were breathing hard, near feral in your posture as your eyes darted around, landing straight to the shocked Cazador. You looked murderous, vicious enough to send a shiver down Astarion's spine. Your teeth were bared, your whole body trembling with rage as you started to advance, weapons already drawn.

And in that moment Astarion was sure that you were the most gorgeous, perfect thing he had ever seen. Or ever would.

It was brutal, bloody battle. One that ended with you slitting Cazador's throat as Astarion watched in awe. You let the body fall to the ground, blasé before you finally ran to him, releasing him from his prison.

Then he was being pulled into the most crushing hug of his entire life. One that he was helpless to return. He clung to you, uncaring for their rather large audience.

He was too busy burying his face into your hair, breathing you in as you whispered into his shoulder, "Thank the Gods that you're still here."

The pain in your voice was so raw, so real. Astarion needed no other evidence to be sure that every word from the dead man's lips had been a lie. He was also positive that he had never cried this much in his life, but now it was a different kind of sob he was trying to choke back. The flood of relief was crushing, the truth that your love was real was nearly enough to destroy him all over again. Not for cruelties sake, but to make something new. To kill every last doubt he had that he was nothing, worthless. How could he be when you were here? When you came for him?

He pulled back reluctantly, smiling down at you with tear tracks on his face. He kissed your forehead, covered in sweat and blood, and gods knows what else.

It was all finally over. You both turned to the rest of the group, your hands clasped together as you made your way to where Cazador lay dead. It was satisfying to see, but such a shame that Astation wasn't the one to do the deed. A regret he'd have for the rest of his days.

Or so he thought.

But then you were turning to Shadowheart, your sweet face curling back into the disgust from earlier when you ordered, "Revive him."

Astarion watched, wide-eyed as she did what she was told. Cazador came back into consciousness, in what looked to be an extremely unpleasant experience. He was coughing blood, the spell doing just enough to mend his mortal wounds, but not nearly powerful enough to give him a fraction of his strength back. He stared upwards, his eyes wide at the sight of you lording over him.

And for the first time in two hundred years, Astarion saw fear in the other man's eyes. Wonderfully delicious fear.

He felt you squeeze his hand as he stared at him, speaking quietly, "He's yours. To do with what you please. Do...do you want us here for this?"

He could hear the hidden meaning in your words. This wasn't just a choice of what to do with him. It was a choice of what to do with them all. He had taken notice that he was the only one that you had freed, his brethren still suspended in air.

He turned to you, his voice strong for the first time since he'd come back to this pit, "I want you here for this."

You nodded before looking back to the others to tell them to wait outside. They did so reluctantly, obviously without confidence in his decision making abilities. He ignored the especially worried look Karlach sent his way, too focused on the piece of vampiric trash in front of him.

Cazador was still coughing, his mouth forming more vile words, "Y-You don't have to do this. I can-"

"Silence," Astation seethed, partly surprised when it worked to shut him up. But then again, he had never been placed in a position to see his master be the one without an escape, "Your life is in my hands now. Tell me the truth. How did you find me?"

Astarion could see the fury behind his eyes, the humiliation of being ordered around by his own spawn. But his desire for life won out in the end.

"Luck," he spat out, "Sheer luck. Yomen saw you in the city, at Shar's Caress with this one. He followed you, found your camp and reported back. I sent Dalyria and Petras to fetch you, gave them a powerful sleeping scroll to knock out your allies. And then you were mine again."

Astarion shouldn't have been surprised that he had the audacity to glare at Tav, seething, "Or at least you would have been."

"And my memories?" Astarion pressed, "How did you know of us?"

"The tadpole squirming behind your eyes doesn't change the fact that I am your master," Cazador said, "Your mind is mine to shape, to understand. It was more difficult than before, yes. But I had enough to know what to say."

Of course. He should have known, "So that was your last torture then?"

"Yes," Cazador said simply, a sneer managing to appear on his bloodied face, "And you have to admit, it worked wonderfully."

"You can kill him now if you'd like," You piped up from his side, staring down at the vampire like the trash he was, "Or...you can take his place."

You hesitated for a brief moment before steeling yourself, looking Astarion in the eye, "Whatever you choose, I'll be here for you. I promise."

Astarion nodded, weighing his options. It was so very difficult to not just kill him where he laid, like the pathetic dog he was. But then again...the ritual would mean endless power. Power that he could use to protect himself, to protect you. So nothing like this could ever happen again.

Astarion looked up, his eyes searching every last one of his brothers and sisters faces. They looked scared, perhaps even resigned to their fate. Just at the hands of another. Astarion hadn't expected the image to make him feel ill, yet it did.

Could he do it? Sacrifice them all, along with everyone else trapped in the bowels of their personal hell? He could. He knows he could. Yet...

He looked back at you, the only thing he had ever loved. The one person to show him a different way to live, who was giving him the freedom to be his own person. But... he wanted that person to be someone worthy of you. Someone who would make you proud.

And there was only one way to do that. Astarion let go of your hand, reaching for the dagger you kept at your belt before striding over to Cazador. He stabbed him with little fanfare, no warning, no chances to beg. And then he did it again, and again, and again. Until he lost count, until the body of his former master was mutilated, his chest nothing but unrecognizable gore.

He wasn't quite sure when he started crying again. He only realized it when he could barely breath through his own screams, every bit of rage, hurt, and humiliation that had been beaten into him coming straight to the surface. He sunk to his knees as he sobbed, tossing the knife to the side.

The whirlwind inside of him was too much, so overwhelming that he was afraid he'd be lost to it. But then he could feel it, you wrapping your arms around him, kneeling next to him as he broke down.

He clung to you, burying his face into your neck as he cried, desperate for your comfort, your touch. You were crying too he realized, your voice breaking as you gently spoke to him, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have been there to protect you. I love you, you did the right thing. I'm sorry."

You had nothing to apologize for, but that didn't stop your words from acting like a soothing balm to all of his internal wounds. But he would get through this. Because for the first time Astarion knew, without a shadow of a doubt he wouldn't have to get through it alone. With you by his side, he would never be alone again.

He wasn't sure how long you both spent there, kneeling in a pool of his tormentors blood. But he knew he felt different when he pulled away, changed.

Free.

He cupped your face, wiping away your tears while only managing to smear the mess about. But it didn't matter that you were both covered in blood and viscera, not when he had you.

"I love you too," Astarion whispered, finally allowing himself to unload the burden of hiding away from you. No more of that. He was yours, fully and completely, "I love you so much. I-I thought that this was it. That I'd never see you again. That you betrayed me-"

"Never," You interrupted, your voice fierce despite how it was breaking, "I never will. You're all I want, all I need. I should have been there, I'm so sorry-"

"No more apologies," Astarion murmered, pressing a quick kiss to your bloody mouth, "No more. We're here. That's all that matters."

You nodded, kissing him again, so sweet despite everything that should have made it sour. Despite his own words, Astarion couldn't help the white hot shame that passed through him. How could he have doubted you, even for a moment? Doubted this, the most beautiful that ever happened to him. Never again would he question what you had together, to let his mind be poisoned by others.

But there would be more time for the two of you later. The rest of your lives if he had anything to say about it. But for now...you freed him. And it was his turn to do the same.

Astarion pulled back, sighing as he looked around the room at his brethren. They were still hanging in the air, all privy to quite the show. He freed them, forgave them even, despite every horrid thing they'd done to eachother over the years.

But that didn't stop him from clocking Petras squarely in the face the second his feet touched the floor. The other man took it well enough, fully knowing that Astarion was capable of much, much worse. Though he was well aware that Petras had been compelled to kidnap him, it didn't change the fact that the punch was very satisfying.

As for the rest of the spawn, the thousands trapped here, he let them go as well. Down to the Underdark, where they could at least have a chance of controlling their feral nature before associating with mortals again.

Then it was time to leave this wretched place, forever. He would never be hurt here again, never controlled. He was free, finally. And with you by his side, what else could he ever ask for?

[sports-on-sundays]

Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

[hoshinasblade]

you are so close to gaslighting yourself into thinking that maybe, just maybe you have already told hoshina's mom in the past what your favorite tea is.

the problem with that thought is today was the first time you met the mother of your boyfriend.

you denied it in your head - for all you know, perhaps mrs. hoshina is just really a good at guessing. that, or you are going batshit crazy.

because at that very day, people you have met for the first time - people who may be friends with hoshina soshiro but are practically strangers to you - seem to be aware of small details about you.

captain ashiro complimented you on your blue dress after shaking your hands, saying it's obvious why it is your favorite color, emphasizing how it brings out the intensity of your eyes. even okonogi, who you know works directly with the third division's vice-captain, had a specific joyful aura on her friendly face as she offered to hang out with you in the future, mentioning how she is a fan of true crime documentaries too and suggesting in the same breath that you should try the pudding sold in the headquarter's cafeteria.

you could have let all of that go if only you did not blush like a teenager after hoshina's own older brother called you by your childhood nickname during family dinner.

"i'm sorry." hoshina's hand found yours, his thumb drawing patterns on your wrist. he knows you'd been on edge since morning, and although this is entirely your idea - meeting his friends and his family in one day - he wouldn't blame you if you're overwhelmed.

"they did their research on me or something," you tried to laugh the nerves away. it didn't work.

"ah." hoshina suddenly looked guity. " that. well -" he stopped for a moment, gathering his wits, choosing the right words to say. "i mean, it makes sense that everyone who actually knows me would know about you, really."

you wanted to joke as a response; you wanted to say that he's talkative and tends to yap for hours about stuff he loves so yes, people around him would naturally know things about you. but then you caught yourself because this is yet another confirmation of what hoshina soshiro had been telling you for months now - that you are someone he loves.

you did not know being known could feel this sweet.

"huh. do you reckon i can extort them for information about you next time?" this time it was your turn to grab hoshina's hand, and with your forefinger, you traced three little words on the warm skin of his palm.

[author's note: hello guys, i know i haven't been posting a lot anymore, but i am thankful to everyone who still remembers this blog - yes i can read your asks, yes i see that you've tagged me in a fic, yes i checked my notifications in this blog every now and then. it might take me long to respond most of the time so apologies in advance but please know that i appreciate all interactions from everyone.

also i dont need to remind you but i don't tolerate copy-pasting or reposting any of my works anywhere. i read a lot from here too, and other writers can attest to this as well - we know if a line or a paragraph from any of our works is copied and/or reworded. ]

[benedictscanvas]

If you’re still taking requests, I have an idea that’s been PLAGUING me in the best way possible: Jamie meets reader and she doesn’t know him at first and then maybe a few dates later she’s like “omg you were on that shitty reality show” like she does not pay attention to football at all idk I just thought it would be cute 🩵🩵 I absolutely adore your writing 😊

i love it when an idea is plaguing. thank you for being so lovely in your request, i appreciate it and you so very much <3 ALSO i ended up playing dnd unexpectedly yesterday, so another drabble tonight and then a new chapter of be still, my foolish heart tomorrow!! | 1.4k words, tw language

You're sat in the Crown and Anchor for what will now be your sixth date. Jamie swears that it's your seventh, and that your first date was actually when the two of you stood on the doorstep of your house for three hours before you finally realised how long you'd been chatting.

You'd been assembling a swing in the garden out front of your house and Jamie happened to be walking by. He stopped to ask if you needed any help and that was it. It was eleven o'clock when he finally went on his way with your number written on a piece of paper that he clutched in his fist.

But it couldn't be a date, you'd say, because he hadn't kissed you when he left. Realistically, you just enjoyed the scrunched up face he made when you playfully argued with him about it, but he didn't need to know that yet.

You were meeting his friends for the first time. It felt early, but Jamie insisted how fun they were and that after you'd met them, the two of you would be able to hang out way more because you could come and visit him at work. You weren't sure why you'd have to meet them here first, but he said it would all make sense.

Nothing about this made sense, because you were currently the only ones in the pub, stuffed into a corner booth. Jamie's thigh brushed yours as he jiggled it, seemingly as full of nervous energy as you.

"Why is no one else here, Jamie?" you whispered, lest the woman behind the bar who looked not to be messed with heard you, "Is something going on?"

"Oh, I jus' booked it out," he says nonchalantly. You gape at him. It had always been clear he had some money, but never this much. Your first thought was the fact that he'd only ever been to your house, never you to his. Granted, it had only been three times so far anyway, but still.

"Are you like...rich-rich?" you ask tentatively, then carry on talking before he can answer, "That sounds terrible, oh god, you don't have to answer that. I don't care either way, you know, I just like-"

"Y/N, babe," he interrupts you, squeezing you into his side, "I know what y' getting at. I'm pretty loaded, I'm not gonna lie, but I didn't want y' to know until I was sure about ya."

Jamie was sure about you? That was news to you. You were a little nervous about how early it was to be sure, but it wasn't as if you weren't sold on him too. You were practically besotted with the man really, even if you were hesitant to tell him.

As if he could read the surprise on your face, he opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted-

"Hey! We're not late, are we?"

There were a few men congregating at the doorway, and the woman at the bar waved them in, greeting them like they were old friends. There were far more people than you'd expected, around ten men and two women crowding into the pub. There was no way all of you would fit around this corner booth.

You crammed any anxiety to the bottom of your stomach and stood up to greet everyone.

"Hi! I'm Y/N, it's so lovely to meet all of you!"

"What the fuck guys?"

Jamie's interjection cut your introductions short, just as you were about to hug the man closest to you who was beaming until Jamie spoke up and ruined his mood.

"I invited Isaac, Colin and Keeley. What are you all doing here?"

They had the decency to look a little sheepish. So that was why Jamie hadn't warned you that there would be 12 of them.

"We all wanted to come and meet the girl you've been droning on about for weeks, bruv," one man chimed in, "We tried drawing straws but it just turned into a huge fucking argument. So here we are. Trust me, mate, like 30 of us wanted to come, so count yourself lucky."

"I didn't fuckin' invite 30 of ya!" he exclaimed, winding a protective hand around your waist. Rather than being intimidated, you now felt incredibly touched that Jamie had been talking about you enough that his friends wanted to meet you so badly, "Did you lot even think about how overwhelming y' might be? Fuckin' idiots."

"Oi! We're on our best fucking behaviour, Tartt. Stop moping and introduce us, you prick."

Okay, so that was definitely Roy. You'd heard at least a little bit about him, that he was sort of a friend/mentor of Jamie's but quite...harsh. That definitely wasn't the word Jamie had used, but it worked.

"Okay! Fuckin' hell, right then..."

And he went around the group. They all pulled chair up to the few tables surrounding yours but didn't crowd you too much. There was Isaac, the one who'd explained things when they came in, Colin and Keeley, of course, who you fell in love with instantly. One group who sat slightly separately were Rebecca, Roy, Ted and Beard who all seemed significantly older than Jamie to be his mates, but you didn't want to question it when everyone was being so nice.

"So, we haven't seen you, so that must mean you've been watching this one on the telly, right?"

Rebecca gestures to Jamie with a warm smile, but when you turn to him, confused, he looks like a deer in the headlights.

"On the telly? In what?"

Rebecca looks suitably shocked now, staring from Jamie to you and back to Jamie.

"She doesn't...?"

Jamie hangs his head and you're left even more confused. You're left staring at the side of his face until it hits you: you'd never connected the dots before but now Rebecca had mentioned TV and you were looking right at him...

"Oh my god!" you exclaim suddenly, making everyone around the table jump, even though the younger lads weren't paying any attention, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

He looks thoroughly guilty.

"Look, Y/N, I jus' wanted to get to know y' without-"

You weren't finished though, still babbling away to yourself as you stared at him, imagining him as he was when you'd seen him through the screen.

"I mean, it wouldn't have changed anything! Not once you'd helped me, but I suppose if I'd realised maybe I would have been more wary of you. You were terrible on that show! All my friends hated you, and I guess I did too, although I still had a bit of a crush, I can't lie-"

You trailed off when you saw the expressions on everyone's faces. The silence was only broken when Roy burst into loud laughter, throwing his head back in a way you guessed was rare for him.

"You know me...from reality TV?" Jamie said, enunciating every syllable and looking at you in terror. You smiled at him easily, reaching up to push a stray hair back from his face.

"Can't believe I didn't realise it, but yeah. Changes nothing for me, you know. It was a couple years ago right? No more dating shows on the horizon for you?"

If you'd realised this immediately, yes you would have been more on your guard. But you didn't, he was clearly very ashamed of his time on there and you were already falling for him and how fucking nice he was to you. Like every move he made was deliberate. It actually made a lot of sense now, if he had a past to make up for.

It took him a few moments of processing, but he was able to pull you into a side and plant a long, lingering kiss on your forehead eventually.

"No more dating shows," he said, full of relief, "Also, I'm a Premier League footballer, since you've taken that one so well."

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

"You're a what?!"

Roy's laugh echoes long into your night, as do the laughs of the rest of Jamie's friends, or teammates as you quickly come to know them. Jamie's more relaxed than he's ever been with you and yeah, you can get why he was sure about this now.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 1 | Part 2

The customers can usually be separated into 3 categories.

Drunks, students, and weirdos.

Unfortunately for you, lately the weirdos have turned into regulars. But fortunately the weirdos aren't so weird.

The one that made it a habit to check in on you, with the scars and the cheesy wink wasn't so bad. Jack, was it? You can't remember and it's been too long for you to ask. You awkwardly address him as 'you' and avoid any situation where you need to use his name.

He likes to ask how you are, tell a few jokes. Spirit undeterred even when you look at him with a blank face because bless his soul, he's not funny at all but at least he tries and he's a lot less weird than first impression.

He hangs around at odd times, then again you do only work at odd times. Telling you stories about this and that. Something about Big Deal, something about a guy called Sinu and something about another guy called Samuel.

It's difficult to keep track. It's like he wants to talk but he's cryptic and god, it's 4am who can blame you if your eyes are glazing over.

John, or is it Jerry, is waffling again. He seems to always be talking about Samuel. Who he apparently misses and wonders where it's gone wrong and hang on, he's never been explicit but you just had to know.

When he takes a breath to munch on a cookie, you ask, "Hold on, is Samuel your ex?"

Wait no his name is Jason, definitely Jason- freezes mid-chew, "Why would you say that? He's my friend!"

Joshua sprays crumbs all over you but you note how he doesn't say no.

(You think you see this Samuel one early morning. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him before and man, he really looks like shit.

Looks like the breakup is getting to him too.

Poor Samuel and Poor Jim.)

.

.

But sometimes weirdos are just weirdos. 

It's ok. It comes with the territory so long as they're not in the habit of hurling abuse or whatever, you can deal with it.

In recent memory, there's only been two people that you have had to almost chase out with a broomstick.

You should have known they would be weirdos when one of them walks in in surprisingly teeny tiny purple camo shorts. Not that you're a pearl clutcher, but you're worried that one wrong move and he could be dangling out.

Besides. Purple. Camo. Shorts. Those words should never follow one after the other, and you repress a shudder at this guy's hideous dress sense when he comes up to you.

You thought the other one was alright, at least there's no hideous purple camo shorts in sight and his hair is nice (huh, this style must be popular, you’ve seen a lot of guys with this hair)-

But then he opens his mouth and asks for snakes and you think it's karma for judging camo-guy for his appearance when his friend is equally odd.

"We usually keep the snakes next to the ramen," you deadpan and the two men actually go to seek out the supposed snake (meat or pet purposes?) only to return moments later, empty-handed and looking confused.

"I think the snake is all sold out," Non-camo guy says as camo-guy glances around as if you might have hidden your snake stock elsewhere.

They must have thought you were stupid as you stood there opening and closing your mouth like a fish (or maybe a snake, do snake do these things), because come on, how are you even supposed to formulate a response to that?

Then you look at their eyes and also notice them looking snakey and surmise it must be some weird fetish thing. Pretending to be snakes and eating snakes and having pet snakes.

You want no part of this and tell them to get out.

.

.

"I'm Baek Hangyeol," a new face says, pointing to his ID badge pinned to the white coat. 

"Doctor Baek Hangyeol." He stresses Doctor and Hangyeol and you wonder if he is waiting for a round of applause.

You don't say anything but you do notice he looks like a teenager and what idiot would let a teenager operate on them. (Drunk, student, weirdo. He could be all three.) Doctor Baek Hangyeol must be bluffing.

You decide not to call him on his bullshit. 

"Cool," is all you respond with because you don't want another complaint for being too mouthy. You are half tempted to tell him you're not a doctor, that you just work here but that seemed kinda redundant so you keep your mouth shut.

"Do you believe in true beauty?" he asks when you finish bagging up his goods (a plain water with added minerals, a bottle of multivitamins and a protein shake) and you think what sort of question is that.

You give a halfhearted shrug and say "Sure" and he hands his business card over.

"If you're ever considering it," he tells you with a wild smile. After he has left you look down at the lettering, eyes zeroing in on ‘Plastic Surgery’.

Excuse me?! What is he trying to say?

You thought he was a weirdo but now he has firmly shifted over to asshole. You regret not telling him to go fuck himself while you had the chance. The complaint would 100% be worth it. Zero regrets.

On your break, you burn the card and feel a small sense of satisfaction.

.

.

A tall blonde guy with a creepy vibe (hold on, have you seen him before, he seems familiar. Then again, creepy blonde guys seem to be quite common around here-) walks in with the most billowing coat you have ever seen.

The entrance is kinda cool but the actual coat is kinda tragic with the cheesy red lettering and you wonder if you can pull it off any better than him.

You're still wondering about his coat when he's paying you, and hang on you have definitely seen him before because he says arigatou and hands over yen and you tell him no. Won only.

The idea of the coat, which has evolved into you fantasising about having a full blown cape, quickly loses its charm however, when the blonde gets caught in the automatic doors and you have to wrestle them open to free him.

Afterwards, you ask if he's ok, if he is harmed and can’t resist asking if the coat is ok too. You really don't want a lawsuit on your watch especially when the malfunctioning doors are not your fault.

Your kindness is repaid by him telling you he's not interested (what the fuck) and that his heart will not stray (again, what the fuck).

.

.

You accidentally eavesdrop on a couple of students lamenting about missing out on school work. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop ok, the aisles are tight and cramped, it’s a small space. 

You peek over, and the one with big ears (seriously, they are huge) is telling the one with his back to you (goodness, his back is huge too) that school is important and he’s got notes the other one can use. 

It’s sweet, you think. School is important and it’s good they recognise that. Nice of them to help each other out too.

When they both come to pay (holy shit, that’s a fuckton of chocolate milk), you’re surprised to find Big Ear’s friend, Big Back, looks anywhere between late 20s and early 40s but it’s never too late to catch up on education, you suppose.

You spend the rest of your shift feeling motivated.

.

.

“Going camping?” you ask the guy with the sandy blonde hair, chuckling nervously and ringing his items through. 

Either he’s going camping or he’s gonna kill and hide a dead body in the forest.

He’s pretty stoic, only giving you a curt nod. You can’t help but probe him a bit more. You’ve got a feeling that if or when the dead body turns up, you want to at least clear your conscience that you’ve tried your best so you make some more idle small talk.

You mention how you haven’t been camping for ages, not since you nearly burned your tent down and singed your hair after you tried to cook some marshmallows over a fire that turned out to be more of a raging bonfire (and might have awoken your pyromaniac streak, but you keep that to yourself).

The blonde guy actually pipes up and says “Master Taesoo would never do that.” 

You almost apologise out of principle due to how earnest he sounds, then he mentions something about how good this Master Taesoo is at catching and cooking snake and you wonder what the fuck is up with people and the snake obsession.

Either way, it doesn’t sound like someone is getting murdered. Only a snake (poor snake) so at least you can sleep easy later that day.

.

.

“Oh hi DG,” you say, “Sorry about your cryptocurrency falling through. Diegocoin was it?”

He blinks at you a few times in surprise and heavens above. What’s that saying, fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you? This guy has fooled you exactly no times with his shitty disguises and his effort has substantially dwindled too. 

He has only put his hood up and you did think you might get mugged at one point-

It’s an empty store, for crying out loud. Who comes into an empty store in the asscrack of night with their hood up, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Then you notice the pink hair and shifty glance and duh.

“Is it the-?” he asks, putting his hood down and signalling to his hair.

“Yeah, it’s the-” you signal to your own head of hair. “Dude you really need to dye it if you’re going for subtle.” You pause, consider something, “Hold on.”

You walk over to the beauty aisle and grab the black hair dye.

“On the house,” you tell DG because this guy really has no self awareness.

.

.

“What do you mean no?”

“No." Your boyfriend peers down at you, arms crossed and at the end of his patience with you.

You open your mouth to argue- 

“No. You know nothing about Taekwondo. How can you work here?”

You look around helplessly at the studio. He’s not exactly wrong but you’re sick of dealing with the weirdos and the snakes and the creepy blondes. “But your dad-”

“I don’t care what that stupid old man says,”

“Taehoon!” Hansu scolds from the other side of the room, and Hansu's class of toddlers all whirl their head around to stare.

“I can learn?” you offer and Taehoon raises one skeptical brow.

“So you’re going to be a student?” You nod enthusiastically, “And we’re going to pay you for that?”

Oh. Damn. 

He’s got you there.

[anipgarden]

Adding To or Starting a Garden

AKA, the beginning of the Plants-Related section of this series.

This is my third 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! 

Got an area of lawn you’d like to convert to a wildlife haven? An area you can stick some hanging baskets in? Want to know how your garden of tomatoes and zucchinis is already putting in a lot of work? This is the section for you!

It would be dumb of me to not acknowledge that the act of gardening can come with a lot of costs. Buying seeds, buying plants, buying soil, raised bed materials, mulch, etc. … it can all get a bit daunting, let’s be honest! But there’s quite a few ways to get seeds and plants for free or extremely cheap, which I’ll be addressing in this section! The next section will be all about addressing the other Costs in gardening and how to mitigate or eliminate them entirely.

Also, do keep in mind; there’s no need to try and convert a whole area from lawn to garden or unused to garden at once. In fact, it could actually be extremely beneficial to do it a little at a time--maybe four or five square feet to start out.

Front Lawn (or Managing Principles)

If you live in a place where you’re required to have a grass turf lawn (HOA’s come to mind…), try replacing it with native grasses instead! You could even possibly use a low-growing ground cover plant like clover to a similar effect! Reseeding/replacing an entire lawn can be a big upfront cost, but even just letting the lawn be a little messy and tall helps. If the lawn gets patchy, leave the bare spots for a little while and something different will likely pop up! Pioneer species will fill the gaps and provide benefits to other plants around them, support animals, and more! If you want to take the guesswork out of it, you could always research what the pioneer species are in your area and plant the ones you like most. 

Obtaining Seeds for Cheap or Free

The cheapest way to start a garden is by far via seeds. However, seeds can be a bit complicated to grow, and some sources make them… way overpriced. Fortunately there are ways to get seeds for little to no cost! 

Some places sell seeds for as low as a dollar, 50 cents, or 25 cents! The packets may not have a lot of seeds, but it’s definitely a good start for a low budget! I’ve personally bought cheap seed packets at Walmart--the Ferry-Morse and Burpee brands are not what we’re looking for here. Typically the cheaper ones I’ve found are American Seed (which is owned by Green Garden Products, which also owns Ferry-Morse, Livingston Seed, McKenzie Seed, and Seeds of Change. Do with that information what you will), but they’re rarely stocked near the Ferry-Morse ones in the Formal Gardening Section. I’ve most often found them on end caps near the gardening section, so you may have to weave through a few aisles to find them, but once you do there’s an array of flower and vegetable seeds to select from! Alternatively, I’ve found seeds at Dollar Tree sold 2 or 4 for a dollar in Spring as part of their seasonal product; however, when they’re out of stock, they’re typically out of stock for the year. Try to check them out early in the year!

Otherwise, other seed companies like Urban Farmer or Botanical Interests will often have semi-frequent sales in spring and fall, when people are stocking up on seeds--joining their email lists can help you be the first to know when a good sale is going on!

Some foods from grocery stores will provide seeds that you can use in the garden as well. I’ve had the most luck with store-bought bagged beans, peppers, and tomatoes. Some people have had luck with watermelons, apples, citrus, squash, and more. Do keep in mind that you likely won’t get the same variety of fruit/vegetable as the one you bought--the resulting plant may look different and taste different.

Give it a shot! Pick some beans you like--if they don't grow well, at least you can eat the rest!

If you live in the US, food-producing live plants, bare roots, and seeds can often be purchased with SNAP benefits. But what does growing fruits, veggies, and herbs have to do with boosting biodiversity? While food crops aren’t typically native, they still provide valuable shelter for native insects. Some plants even have intricate relationships with native fauna--like the squash bee, a solitary bee which exclusively pollinates cucurbits like pumpkins, squash, and zucchini. And we get to benefit more directly as well! If you’re planting a diverse range of foods in your garden (as opposed to the swaths of single-plant farms that typically produce what’s sent to grocery stores), you’re supporting high levels of biodiversity by providing a variety of plants for creatures to live and hunt around.

Most of the time, when we think of boosting biodiversity with a garden, we think of a colorful flower garden teeming with pollinator species. However, if we’re striving to use native species, it can be a bit difficult to find some species in stores. I can say from experience that trying to find any wildflower seeds other than butterfly weed, purple coneflowers, and black-eyed-susans is… challenging, if you limit yourself to stores like Walmart, Home Depot, and Lowe’s. You might occasionally get lucky with an ACE Hardware or a local nursery, but even then sometimes it can be hard to track down who in your area is selling what--let alone if you live in an area where no one really is selling native plants or their seeds. Not to mention, even once you find a local or online store selling the seeds you want, they can sometimes cost a pretty penny. So what do you do?

If you have the option to, consider gathering native seeds yourself! Get good at identifying the native flora and fauna--or at least, a few target plants and their lookalikes--and get ready to go! Learn where they tend to grow, when they’ll be seeding, etc. Try to identify the plant before it goes to seed (for most plants, it's easiest to identify when flowering), then check back regularly to gather seeds. Typically, if I want to learn how to collect seed from a specific plant, I just search it on Google or YouTube--oftentimes, I'm lead to the GrowItBuildIt Youtube page, so it may be a helpful resource for you as well! Of course, make sure to leave plenty of seed behind so the wild population can repopulate, and seed can feed other creatures in the area. A good rule of thumb is to take no more than 1/3rd of what's available.

Buying seed in bulk is an option if you can afford the upfront cost. Try teaming up with a few friends to buy some bulk seeds and split them amongst yourselves--you’ll get tons of seed! Prairie Moon is a popular site that'll sell seeds by the pound if you can afford the price--though they're in the US, and I believe they focus on Midwest and East Coast natives.

If you want to cheat the system, don’t buy bulk sunflower seeds--buy bags of sunflower seeds being sold as birdseed. They’re typically all black oil sunflower seeds, but they’ll sprout, and they’re fairly cheap for the amount you get!

However, beware generic wildflower seed mixes! Many brands like to sell wildflower seed mixes in big box stores like Home Depot, Target, or even Dollar Tree, but they’ll often include flowers that aren’t native or possibly even invasive in your region! Before you make any purchases, double check to make sure the contained seeds won’t do more harm than good! A quality source of native seeds will provide English and Latin names for all seeds included, and will be native to the region or at least non-invasive. 

See this? I don't trust this.

There’s a good handful of programs online that’ll send you free seeds if you’re planning to start a native habitat project! Poke around online and see what you can find; you might get lucky! The best time to start looking for these is fall and winter, I find--by early spring, many of them are either done or beginning to wind down... though some also start up in spring. Ultimately--just check regularly! You never know what you can find!

Other Ways to Get Plants

Don’t want to start from seed? That’s fair! You can try cuttings! Just be sure not to take too much of the plant while you do so. Make sure you’ve gotten a few leaf nodes on your cutting, and cut any flowers you may have gotten. Make sure to leave some blooms and foliage on the original plant for the creatures in the current habitat--you don’t want to destroy one habitat to make another in your garden. There’s tons of methods of rooting cuttings, many of which have different efficacy rates for different plants, but that’s a topic for another post.

If you find seedlings growing in a place where they won’t be able to sustain themselves long-term, or are in danger of being destroyed, consider relocating them! You may be able to gently dig up and transplant the seedling to your garden. Don’t do this if they’re in a place where they can easily survive--ideally, you’ll be taking plants from sidewalk cracks, heavily maintained public gardens, roadsides, etc. Do be careful while doing this--ensure your safety first!  

You’re totally allowed to join gardening communities like clubs, facebook groups, and more before you’ve even put a trowel to the dirt. These are great places to learn information and advice! Many gardeners are more than happy to help out a new gardener, and will eagerly provide seeds, cuttings, or even baby plants! Talk to some people about your gardening journey and what you’re hoping to do, and you just might find some kindred spirits--or at least get more people interested in the topic! 

Seed and plant giveaways and trades happen all the time in gardening clubs, as well as online! Just poke around and see what you can find! Some are explicitly trades, meaning you’re expected to send something in return, but once you get your feet on the ground with some plant knowledge you’ll be stellar! You may be able to explain you’re just starting out, and someone may send you seeds without expecting a trade, but I’d suggest trying giveaways first. 

Poke around online and see if there’s a local chapter of your state’s native plant society. From there, you’ll likely be able to find a calendar of events--many of them will host plant sales in the spring, with a bunch of native plant seedlings ripe for the pickings if you can make it out and have some money to spare! Fair warning, though, you’ll want to get there early if you can. If they say they’re starting at 10, try to get there by 9:45. Year after year, there’s always record turnout, and they sell out of plants faster than ever. Just trust me on this. I’ve been let down; hopefully you won’t have to be.

Some libraries are beginning to host seed libraries! Check around and see if your library has one! Ideally, the system works best if you also have seeds to contribute in return, but if you’re just starting out I’m sure they won’t mind you taking some seeds! Just consider saving some seeds to contribute in the future and pay it forward. If your library doesn’t have a seed library? Consider asking if they’d be willing to start one! Community interest is a great way to get the ball rolling on projects like these, but they’ll only know the community is interested if the community tells them they’re interested!

Volunteer to Garden for/with Someone Else

Maybe someone in your area wants to garden, but is struggling to find the time/energy. Many elderly people who used to garden simply can’t anymore but still would like a garden. Other people may love to have a helping hand in their garden. You might even find a few people in your area interested in renting and sharing a community garden plot with others, so they don't have to handle it all on their own! They may be interested in increasing biodiversity right now, or may be willing to if it’s brought up to them. You might be just the kind of person someone needs! Since it won't be your garden, you’ll likely need a bit of permission and collaboration to get anything in particular going, but it’s worth a shot and a way to maybe even make friends! 

Again, your mileage may vary with some of these. You may not know where there's a bunch of wildflowers growing in your area, or maybe your local library doesn't have a free seed library. That's okay! Do what you're able to, find what you can find, get what you can get! And there's never any shame with starting small--in fact, starting small can make the project easier to manage and expand when you're able!

That's the end of this post! My next post is gonna be about ways to start growing plants cheaply--low cost seed starting set ups, essentially. There's a lot of good options, many of which I've used myself even! Until then, I hope this advice is helpful! Feel free to reply with any questions, success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in!

[theflashjaygarrick]

It's a missed opportunity that despite Roy Harper and Jason Todd hanging out now there's been never any tension between about them or exploration of their differing approaches and perspectives on the drug crisis. Particularly because for both of them it is deeply personal.

Roy Harper.

Roy became addicted to drugs in the 1971 comic Snowbirds Don't Fly which was Neil Adam’s and Dennis O'neill's attempt to tackle the "youth's greatest problem!" drug use and addiction. I feel like all most people know is that Speedy took drugs and Ollie took it badly, but that honestly ignores the whole point of the story. The story challenged contextual stigma around addiction and drug use as a personal failing or something that only happened to weak people. It explored how it could happen to anyone, even a hero like Speedy. It focused on the social factors such as racism and poverty and how they push people into substance abuse as a way to cope. It even turns the trope of the evil foreign drug cartel on its head by making the guy behind the drug supply a wealthy white American man in who runs a Pharmaceutical company, doesn't do drugs, and actively mocks the people he profits off the suffering of.

The point therefore is twofold. Firstly, drug users are people just like you and me and it is vital to be compassionate to people struggling with addiction. Ollie who yells at and hits Roy and leaves him due to anger and fear is clearly in the wrong. Hal and Dinah who look after Roy and stand beside him at his friend's funeral and as he confronts Ollie are clearly in the right. Secondly, the solution is not to focus on the drugs but instead to deal with the systemic problems of inequality, oppression, trauma and disenfranchised youth.

Despite parts of it ageing bad (the use of slurs was to demonstrate the damage of racism, but I feel uncomfortable having slurs uncensored in a comic book written by white authors) it is a surprisingly progressive take on addiction for a mainstream 70s DC comic. It also clearly demonstrates Roy's opinion on the drug problem and how to deal with it. He sees anger and going after dealers/manufacturers (like Ollie did) to not be enough. Instead the real change comes from helping the people in that situation by improving their lives and compassionately helping them at their worst.

Enter Jason Todd.

For context Jason Todd has had almost his entire life shaped by trauma of substance abuse. His (adoptive) mother Catherine struggled with addiction and overdosed just months before he met Batman, effectively orphaning him. Soon after he was found by Batman who essentially drafted him into his crusade on crime, not considering that being a vigilante may be potentially damaging for an already traumatised child.

But when he came back in UTRH he decided he could best help Gotham if he killed (largely non-costumed) criminals and controlled the city's criminal underworld himself. After violently assuming control of the drug trade, Jason imposed his own rules for dealers, most famously that he would kill anyone who sold drugs to children or near schools. Later while incarcerated Jason Todd killed 82 Blackgate inmates (and harmed over a hundred) by poisoning the prison food. This mass murder was intrinsically indiscriminate and due to the US prison system it is reasonable to assume people charged with drug offences were included in the death count.

Jason does have deep childhood trauma associated with addiction and drug use and wants to help prevent suffering. That being said, his approach treats drugs as a criminal problem to be eradicated or controlled, not just a symptom of deeper social issues. He kills people who sell drugs to kids, rather than helping building a support system so kids aren't pushed into abusing substances to cope and people don't have to deal to survive.

What does this mean?

Scott Lobdell got details of Roy's addiction wrong and distorted him into a reckless idiot who has been ostracised from the community. But if it was done right their interaction and opposing perspectives/experiences could be really interesting. Both hate drugs and the drug trade, but the way they conceptualise this hatred differs significantly.

Roy focuses on helping the individual and addressing deeper social problems, seeing drugs as a devastating but ultimately symptomatic. Jason sees drug use as first and foremost a criminal issue, with true benefits being achieved through controlling the criminal underworld.

Roy's priority is therefore supporting people struggling with addiction and showing compassion for their situation. Jason doesn't really focus on ways to help the individuals suffering from addiction, as much as mitigating the overall harm and fitting the drug trade into parameters he views as acceptable.

I think it would add needed complexity to their relationship (and to Jason's redemption if we're going that route) as well as dealing with the more 'war-on-drug' elements of UTRH. Also it would help Roy stand on his own as a strong, articulate leader with a dark past rather than being (at least for a while) reduced to essentially Jason's sidekick.

[notbecauseofvictories]

there's one attorney who I work with quite a bit who seems to live a charmed life---she's got high-achieving kids, a beautiful house, and is always doing something swanky, jet-setting off to different parts of the world, attending massive, sold-out concerts, hanging out in the influencer tent at political rallies, etc.

yet rather than being a lovely person, lit from within by just how blessed, how wonderful her life is.....she's always short, condescending, talks over people in meetings, consistently picks up minor things to worry about and isn't prepared even for meetings where she is a critical decision-maker. For lack of a better term, she's pissy, all the time, unless you're discussing her and her wonderful life.

and honestly, I just don't understand it. No, that's not true, I understand it---it just makes me deeply sad. You've achieved everything that a reasonable person could want, more even....and yet your coworkers spend their days thinking up ways not to involve you, to get around you, to avoid you entirely. It didn't have to be like this, and yet it is.

[weebsinstash]

What do you MEAN the early access episodes of hazbin hotel are pre-orders that were limited quality and are sold out now?? 😫 you can't dangle something in front of my face and then take it away and tell me I have to wait 😫

Even that Vox vs Alastor song I linked before is hard to find on YouTube! Spindlehorse (totally justifibly i mean) is being really aggressive taking down clips people are making and uploading and I'm getting CRUMBS of these episodes and my impatient ass can't take it

I know I've been, you know, thirsting for Valentino but, now that we've seen more of him.... VOX THOUGH! The charisma! The panache! The style! The BEEFING with Alastor!

It's kinda too old for me to go searching for the link (someone found it for me, mid pencil art alert lol) but now I'm thinking of that one idea I had in the past where Val and Vox meet you in a bar/club and start bonding and thinking you're actually pretty interesting and you eventually pepper in these "my boyfriend doesn't let me-" kind of statements, and they're both, jealous af, but, you know. Don't wanna rock the boat and chase you off! So they kinda just keep hearing all these details, "oh, my boyfriend doesn't like me going to these kinds of places, I have to lie to him" "oh, you know, hubby doesn't like me drinking, so I have to sneak around" "ugh, my baby never wants to have fun like this"

I just picture now it evolving into a plot where you're fucking sick of your old fashioned BORING boyfriend who won't let you break up with him, literally you tell him you're done with him and he keeps showing up saying you're together, won't let you out from under his thumb, and you finally sidle up to Vox, "listen dude, I'll be real with you: I think we can help each other out"

I just see Reader doing the most petty shit because you want this stag GONE and you're full of anger and spite. Alastor is walking down the sidewalk thinking you're like, at book club with the gals, and suddenly he walks by a TV on display and here's Vox, "- and here with us in the station today is a very special guest-" and THERE YOU ARE, getting interviewed about being the partner of the Radio Demon!

"So, toots, what's it like, shackin up with Alastor?"

"Oh, you mean what is YEARS of no sex, no TV, no video games, and no weed like? I'd kill myself but I kinda already did that!"

"What, you mean you don't like dating some limp dick old timey FUCK?"

"Not as much as I've liked hanging out with you ;)"

All the radios in town are blaring deafening ANGRY static for hours while you and Vox are getting high and eating cheeseburgers and playing Monster Hunter somewhere while Valentino thinks about "acquiring you" as a little ~companion~ for his man (and maybe himself) right here and now since you two are already so cute together ❤️ I mean, they were already gonna scoop you up anyways, so he might as well rush the process, right?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I an asshole for picking who I want to invite to an event?

I (23f) had my first real paycheck and wanted to invite my boyfriend's family to watch a stand-up show as a thank you for taking me in (long story). So I invited my bf, his dad, his sister and his sister's boyfriend. His dad let me know he couldn't make it a week ahead of time, so I offered the extra ticket to a friend of mine. She agreed and asked if she could invite her boyfriend, since it was gonna be two couples (me + bf, sil +bf) and she was gonna be a fifth wheel. Her bf would pay for his own ticket. I told her no bc it's something special that I wanted to do for people I consider my family and I don't consider her bf my family. She got mad and we had a fight.

Some reasons why she thinks I'm TA:

- idon't really like her bf. He's nice and good to her but I just don't vibe with him. I try to be nice to him but idk I think she and her bf might be able to tell i still dont like him after 2 years of knowing him

-The "family event" thing is kinda less important then, bc my bf, my sil and my friend are all friends, and without my fil, she argued that it was just a "friend group" thing, since we do all hang out together. Also she didn't know it was a family thing when she asked and maaaayyybe was kinda rude that I got angry and just said no, she was just asking

- heres where i agree i was a little rude: I ignored her question for two days bc I didn't wanna deal with it, and she complained that the tickets were almost sold out and it's rude that I ignored her when she just asked if she COULD invite him and it was a time sensitive question

I ended up giving up and he came and it was nice, we all had a good time. But I'm still kinda mad that she "won" ig. She always just does whatever she wants!

[demigodsanswer]

Percabeth + coffee shop au + holiday au?

The holiday part of this is a bit squint and you miss it. I meant for there to be more, but alas.

Percy had wanted to open up a bakery, but a coffee shop that sold pastries seemed more lucrative. In hindsight, he was glad he made that choice. He wasn't sure Annabeth ever would have stepped inside if he only sold apple turnovers and cupcakes.

She came in every morning, dressed like a young professional, her hair back in a ponytail usually, high heels sticking out of her purse, flat shoes on her feet. When she got in line, Percy knew to start making her soy latte extra shot before she even made it to the register. Sometimes he slipped one of their vegan brownies in too, on the house.

(He never asked if she was vegan or if soy milk was just a taste thing, but his ex was lactose intolerant. Last thing he wanted to do was ruin her day.)

"Thanks Percy," she said, grabbing her drink seconds after paying for it. He handed her the brownie, in a clear sleeve with their "vegan" sticker on it. She smiled and accepted it graciously. "You're a hero," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he promised.

So, maybe he had a thing for one of his patrons. It didn't matter that much. She was about his age (probably), and never yelled at his staff. Her seven dollar daily latte was keeping his lights on. And she was maybe the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Do you think I should add more vegan options?" He asked Grover. Grover was the lead barista and his business partner. He some how sourced fair trade coffee they could actually afford.

"It's better for the environment," was Grover's response.

"So, yes?" Percy asked.

"Give it a shot. Everyone loves a little vegan treat."

"No, you love a little vegan treat. Most people think they taste like sand," Percy said.

"That's an exaggeration. Your brownie is delicious. And I'm sure whatever you make, Annabeth will love it."

Percy bright red face ended that conversation. "I'm going to to hang the Christmas lights," he said, heading out into the cold without a jacket in the hopes that his face went back to normal.

~

Percy kept the coffee shop opened later than was maybe wise, but he worked most of the late shift hours by himself or with Meg, a high school kid working after school. They always got a few late afternoon coffee drinkers, and a couple of high school kids sitting to do homework.

Percy had to be there anyway. He was working on a few new vegan options. The holiday season was a good time to find out what people liked; they were more likely to treat themselves to something sweet.

He'd worked out a good vegan pumpkin pie, which they sold by the slice. That was a hit, although he was still working to get the crust perfect. The oatmeal cookie had been easy enough. The Nutella banana bread was actually so good that Annabeth ordered it the next morning. Percy made a note to keep it on the menu.

The holiday brought festive drinks too. He needed to compete with Starbucks, so he offered peppermint ... everything, caramel everything, and pumpkin everything. He was hanging a sign in the window advertising their peppermint mocha when he spotted a familiar face on the other side of the glass.

Annabeth smiled at him. It was six at night. They were only open for another hour. And she never stopped by after work. She must have come right from the office, because she still had her heels on.

The bell rang as she opened the door. "Are you still open?" She asked.

"Sure am," Percy confirmed. He would have said yes even if that wasn't true. "Soy latte?"

She shook her head. "No, no. Um, what about that --" she pointed towards the sign, "peppermint mocha?"

"You got it," Percy said, heading back behind the counter. "Soy?"

"Sure."

"I don't have a dairy-free whip cream," he said. He made a note to try and find one. Frank would like it.

"Regular is fine," she said. "I'll treat myself. Decaf though," Annabeth added.

"Are you vegan?" Percy asked as he brewed the espresso.

"I try but fail a lot. I'm pretty good at avoiding meat, but real dairy is just too good," Annabeth said.

"Easier to bake with too," Percy said. "For here or to go?" He had a to-go cup in his hand out of habit, but Annabeth had settled down at one of the open tables.

"Here," she said. Percy made the drink in a large ceramic mug.

"What brings you in tonight?" He asked, as he dropped off the coffee.

He didn't have anything pressing in the back, and there were only two college students diligently working on the other side. He could chat for a while.

As if reading his mind, Annabeth used her foot to push a chair out for him. Percy said down as she took the first sip. She closed her eyes and sighed happily.

"That's so good," she said. Percy was pretty sure he was flushed again. He hoped it went away before she could open her eyes. "It was just one of those long end-of-the-year work days, you know? Everyone rushing to get things done. I wanted something to cheer me up, and I walked by and thought ..." she looked at him in a new, attentive way he'd never caught before. "... a warm drink sounds nice."

"I hope it helped," he said.

"It is," she promised.

"I've got a new vegan cinnamon roll I'm testing. Want to try it?" Percy offered.

"How is it?" She asked.

"Not sure, they're fresh, first round," he said.

"I guess I can help test it for you," Annabeth said with a smile.

Percy jumped up and came back a minute later with one round roll on a plate and two forks.

He tried not to be too creepy as he watched her take a bite, savor it, and then carefully make up her mind.

"It's a little dry," she determined. "The icing is great, and the taste is good, but ..."

Percy took his own bite and nodded. "Too much cinnamon. It dries it out."

"Still pretty delicious," Annabeth said, going for another bite, "especially for not having half the ingredients that make food taste good."

"Thanks!" Percy said with a wide smile. "You know, my co-owner Grover is vegan."

"Oh, is he the motivation for all the new treats?" Annabeth asked.

"Uh, sure," Percy said, barely playing off that she was the real reason, not his best friend of almost twenty years, "but he was telling me about this new vegan restaurant. He says it's pretty good."

Annabeth was smiling, and she had a mischievous look in her eyes that told him she was six steps ahead of him.

"Oh?" She said innocently, going for another bite of the cinnamon roll, but not actually putting the fork in her mouth yet. "Have you tried it?" She asked, finally taking a bite.

"No, I was wondering if you'd maybe want to go with me? If you're not too busy?" He hadn't planned to ask her out today. He was thinking of maybe doing something corny and easy to ignore, like writing his phone number on her to-go cup. But he was in it now.

"I'd love to," she promised. Annabeth reached into her bag and pulled out a business card, and then shook her head. "Is this horribly impersonal and --?"

"It's alright," Percy said, "as long as I don't have to fax you the date information." There was a fax number on the card.

"Please don't, it's a communal machine," she said, "and older than I am."

"Alright, I won't," Percy promised. He didn't have a business card of his own, just ones with the coffee shop's information. So instead he did what most modern people did: he texted the cell number on her business card with a simple hey it's percy and a coffee cup emoji.

Annabeth smiled and took a second to save the number.

"So," she said, picking up her still-full drink. "Why did you start making vegan pastries?"

She had that I'm way ahead of you look in her eyes again. Percy swallowed hard.

"Um ..."

[illusivedelights]

Call of Neighbors (König & Horangi Neighbors!AU)

Part 1

.....ok this one's really more for me. I just think they're both neat and I like 'em. (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)(⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

They're roommates in this AU! But not in that way y'all. This house is a nightmare LOL.

König

He is either somehow the most unassuming giant of a man or the most unintentionally really awkwardly off-putting guy you're going to meet.

Honestly it's not intentional, he just kind of doesn't know how to act properly/is slightly tone deaf.

He's quiet for odd pauses because he's either trying to practice what he says in his head or he's overthinking it a little.

He honestly hides his social anxiety well if you get him to talk. He'll sound pretty confident when he speaks/can come off a little arrogant (but that's really his way of masking his anxiety. 'If I sound confident enough, they can't tell' mentality.).

It's a hard adjustment and can piss some off, but when you look underneath it, it has sound reasoning and sincerity.

Lot of folks find him either a bit tough to approach or deal because they don't want to go beyond the superficial and he's kind of got a not so good rep, but he's used to it.

Honestly the really old folks are probably the ones who understand him the best/look past all the nonsense. He finds comfort in it and looks after them in his own way.

People always assume the worst in what he's doing, but then they see he's actually just doing normal stuff. It's a bit of a running gag. ("OMG! He's totally getting ready to bury a body!!" Actually he's trying to rake this elderly neighbor's yard because she's in a lot of pain, he just forgot to let her know he was doing it, and also he's a dingus that just makes it look like that).

You're gonna know cause you're gonna see this oaf awkwardly hang around and look like he's trying to do something. (He is trying to approach you, he really just doesn't know how.) He wants to show off to you about all the cool things he knows and can do and will talk to you for what seems like ages. (But it can come off abrasive and strongly opinionated)

It's his way of saying he wants to spend time with you and likes you. (And dear God if you can make it past it, still like him and interact again, he's sold).

Hobbies

Housekeeping (Ok hear me out, he's a pretty clumsily dressed guy and joined the military at stupid young teen age; but I think people would complain and once he moved out, he was like oh.)

Cooking (He's not really happy with the quality of food/lack of food he wants, so he has a "Well I'll make it myself then"/"They can't make it like home")

Antique/ Item Hunting (He likes trying to find things that remind him of home or his childhood or fits a specific niche he enjoys).

Community Service (mostly helping the neighborhood. He likes keeping it nice and safe.......in more ways than one)

Competitive Games (He's kinda garbo though, but trying to get better. But he can't help but get competitive regardless. Heskindaasoreloserthough.)

General Perception

That One Creepy Big Guy Who Doesn't Talk a Whole Lot.

Big Guy

Terminator

Lovely Young Man/Strapping Lad (by the elderly folks he helps)

Horangi

Neighborhood's local really aggressive Korean man. He's not even angry most times, he just talks like that.

He just doesn't like wasting time, and in his mind time is precious for everyone so he just doesn't mince words and just wants to get to the point. ("Tell me what I need to do to fix it and I'll do it.")

This behavior can be misinterpreted, so people assume he's just being insufferable.

I think he's actually really popular with cranky old men because he can keep up with them, throw it back easily and they don't take any offense to it. Do not approach if they're all shooting the shit, the conversation is indeed insufferable. (Good men but Jesus, they can complain).

Didn't want to bother with the pain of fronting the cost of living fully by himself , so he approached König about it because honestly König isn't too much of a hassle to him.

Left to his own devices, he's doing side gigs a lot, so he's in and out a lot of times.

He is a good character foil to König being the way he is and they bring out very honest facets of one another by accident. If you wanna speed run seeing their personality, just hang out with the two of them.

People jokingly wonder if he's a K-Pop idol because he often wears his sunglasses and a face mask. (It actually kind of annoys him because he's trying to keep a low profile and it's also been said mockingly to him too many times.)

Despite not being home a lot, he's actually really tidy and a neat freak. He will get slightly exasperated by uncleanliness or if certain things aren't the way he wants it.

You'll know with him because you make him pause. He's pretty much snappy with everything, so if you actually make him go quiet and think, you got him hooked. This man's tone and actions will be a bit more.....deliberate in between his usual self.

He is actually surprisingly clingy but in the way of "I want to be around you a lot during my few free moments, even if it's not doing anything productive" You make him actually want to waste time.

Hobbies

Cars (I feel like he has a light fascination with cars and mechanics of it, probably a 'I don't have this so it's fascinating' note. He wouldn't want to own one, but he has appreciation for sports cars)

Boxing/Sparring (A way to get out some aggression at times and solitary so he doesn't have to worry about most things. Probably a meditative act)

Cleaning (Probably a habit of covering his tracks, and is just oddly really good at it)

Side Gigs (they're mostly legal, trying to stay on the up and up, old money making day habits die hard, he's the guy who knows a guy from these things)

General Perception

That One Angry Korean Prick

Loud Guy

Angry Idol

Mr. Sensitive (sarcasm)

Bonus: The Roommates' Dynamic

Obviously this one's a bit special because they share space. So, extra HC time!

At a surface level, you'll think they probably actually hate each other because of how aggressive they talk and seem to butt heads.

But in reality, it's just two really nitpicky and straightforward people bantering. Plus working in the line of field they do, they're just both solution oriented and way too comfortable using coarse language with each other. ("Why the HELL is your shit laying around on the floor?" "I literally just put it down, I'm cleaning the tabletops?" "YOU DON'T THROW IT ON THE GROUND." "IT WASN'T THROWN." etc.)

Despite how they are, nothing's ever done in genuine mean spirit. They're just honestly two guys who are bad at talking in different ways but they mean well ......in their own way.

König is definitely more of a homebody and the common areas are more of his style of decorating. They actually have somewhat similar tastes so it works out, but if you look closely you'll see bits of Horangi's flare. ("I'm hardly around. Decorate how you want.")

They're particular about cleanliness in their own different ways, so they clash.

Both are living in a place with no family/have no family, so they're each other's emergency contacts.

It's definitely more of a roommate/coworker you live with situation. They don't actually have many hobbies they share.

They kind of keep each other in check honestly.

OK I FEEL THAT'S ENOUGH FOR THIS POST. IF ANYONE ELSE WANNA KNOW MORE JUST IDK. ASK. OR ILL POST ANOTHER LATER.

[crowdeerdire]

OLBA boys with a Gamer MC

Featuring: Cove, Baxter and Derek Synopis: How the boys would be around a Gamer MC (whether they're in PC gaming, console gaming, cozy, shooters, etc)

Cove

Honestly would be happy with any interests you had

Although he prefers to go outside and be at the beach, he would probably also try to learn about whatever game you're into at that moment

maybe he wouldn't fully understand (aka 'MC... all you're doing is farming and cleaning? Can't you do that irl?', or 'why are you making a sims character that looks like me? I'm right here? You can talk to me?')

but if you're excited, then he's excited

he would support you, and hell, maybe you could get him into a game or two? (M/C: 'Cove! This one has mermaids!' Cove: 'What?? I wanna play!')

If you're the type to get up early for things like Nintendo Direct or some other video game announcments, he would be there with you too. I mean, he's a morning person anyways, but he would still wanna to hang out and find out why you're so excited

would ask questions and be genuinly interested when he get excited over an announcment

If you're the type to swear and get angry at video games, Cove would be surprised at first but depending how you are with him normally (like do you usually have a potty mouth?), he would laugh it off

If it starts getting too much he would definetly come over to you, concerned and worried that you're getting too heated

talks to you in a gentle voice and tries to ground you/calm you down

M/C: 'F**K THIS MARIO GAME WHY CAN'T I MAKE THIS STUPID F**KING JUMP?!' Cove: 'I don't know but you're getting really riled up, M/C... Why don't we take a break and just breathe? I'll listen to you rant, if you want?'

would play Mario party with you if you ask :)

The 'downside' would probably be Cove pouting if you're gaming too long (some new expansion came out and you wanna play it for 12hrs straight? oops) and ignoring him. He's all for you enjoying yourself, but he wants attention too...

would probably have to get him an extra chair if you're a pc gamer

or sit in his lap if you're playing on console

I think he would REALLY enjoy watching you play too? Like honestly watching people play games is really relaxing and I think it would be relaxing for him because he gets to spend time with you

would force you to take breaks/eat/hydrate and whatnot

Cove: 'You've been playing four hours straight.. At least stand up and walk around M/C!!' M/C: 'Just one more game...'

He WILL pick you up and drag you away from your game if he needs to

Baxter

he may not get it either, like Cove, but he would support you

honestly all three boys are like: if this makes them happy, then I'm happy :)

I feel like he may get more into the tech side of it, tho, if he starts taking an interest?

and help figure out what best specs to use for whatever kind of games you are into?

he seems like the type to be willing to do research for whatever, especially if it helps you out and you're overwhelmed

Baxter: 'If you want M/C, you can go for this version of the console since you tend to play less intense games. That's why you don't have to overspend on something overpowered.' M/C: 'Oh, you're right! Thank you!'

Although I feel like Baxter might want to spoil you too...

M/C: 'YOU BOUGHT ME A PS5??? AREN'T THOSE SOLD OUT EVERYWHERE???' Baxter: 'I have my connections :)'

Would say 'My uncle works at nintendo/playstation/microsoft/etc' in the most serious tone, but we all know he's bullshitting... right?

Would probably enjoy watching as well, especially RPGs I think?

Like he would get into the story and ask questions and maybe even theorize with you

If you got up early for a game announcment, he would give you a thumbs up from bed before falling back to sleep. He ain't getting up for that, but he loves and supports you

If you get really heated playing a game, I think he would egg you on as a joke

M/C: 'F**K YOU I SHOT YOU!! HOW DID YOU KILL ME FIRST??' Baxter: 'You tell them, honey'

Of course if you get too rilled up, he would be beside you, gently putting his hand on your shoulder and suggesting a break and something to eat. Maybe just spend some time with him and relax :)

He can't blame you also if you get super hyperfixated on a game and play for hours on end

I always think Baxter is a work-a-holic and would get what those kind of moods would be like

Would bring you snacks and drinks tho :)

Derek

Derek is a gamer as well, which we know from his DLC

not a huge gamer maybe as yourself

BUT

would enjoy playing party games and racing games with you

Would really get into it as well. Maybe try to win by giving you smooches and tickles if you're too good

He would also be the type to be excited if you're excited by something

Would also get up early with you for game announcments - would even skip the gym if it was something you were really excited about

Would ask lots of questions but also do his own research into the game so he could talk about it as well with you?

I feel like out of the three boys he would most liking get into gaming with you

Maybe nothing too crazy, but you could convince him into something more casual

If you were playing something competitive, he would be cheering you on

Probably REALLY enjoys watching you play

Like honestly, watching someone play video games can be really relaxing and almost intimite somehow? Cause you're sharing their passion? idk man :)

If you're getting heated over a game and are swearing up a storm, he would be at your side quickly, trying to calm you down.

He gets games can be frusterating, but you need to breathe or you're gonna get upset and he does not want that

Will force you to take breaks

Derek: 'M/C... You gotta eat and drink properly if you wanna keep gaming! C'mon, we can have something together!'

Would probably make sure you keep a semi proper sleep schedule as well because he's a worry wart and wants to make sure you're healthy

Will carry you away from a game if he has too (will wait inbetween matches if it's something you can't pause. He understands that much)

a/n: my mind is unhinged today :)) Hope y'all enjoyed and I hope non of the boys were ooc? Let me know what you think :)

divider by: @/cafekitsune