#just let me know if this doesn't work for you and once again there's no pressure to reply to both starters <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[sylusismybby]

Sylus doesn't realize how big he is until the first time you two have sex. You hiss, your hand gripping onto his bicep tightly as he pushes his cock into you. "Everything alright, sweetie?" His voice held a certain amount of gentleness, he stops moving as he waits for you answer. "Yes...you're just...big..." Sylus lets a small smile come to his lips. "I'll just have to be careful then. Wouldn't want to overwhelm you thus early on, kitten." His hips move forward again, this time he takes his time, making sure you feel all of him. Your gasps and moans are like music to his ears, he can listen to them all day. "Tell me if it's too much and I'll stop." It was too much but you didn't want him to pull out, it felt painfully good.

Once he was fully inside of you, he let's you adjust to his size, moving only a little bit. Your pussy squeezed him a few times making him groan. "You feel amazing. Can I move now?" He leans down feeling the way your legs wrap around his body, he holds onto your thighs as he kisses up to your jaw. "Yes." It's a weak yes, you felt so full, he felt so good. Sylus nods and then starts moving his hips setting a slow pace at first. As soon as he sees that your experience grows to one of full pleasure, he speeds up, his hips moving quicker, harder. The moans that leave your mouth get louder, your hands move from his arms to his back, nails digging into his pale skin. He chuckles, he isnt fucking you fast, he is fucking you well. "There we go. Thats my good kitten." He kisses you on the lips, it's a kiss of raw passion, you feel him everywhere in your body. The room is filled with skin slapping noises as his cock moves in and out of your pussy.

Pulling away from the kiss, he grabs your hands pinning your wrists above your head. "Look at yourself. You're taking me so well." His red eyes are filled with adoration and lust, this is exactly how he wanted you. You look up at the mirror that was above the bed, it's an imagine that you wish you can take a picture of. Sylus is on top of you, his body moving against yours, his back painted by the scratches of your nails, your sweaty bodies illuminated by the dim lights. It didn't him long to realize where you were looking, he bites into your neck before speaking. "Enjoying the view are we? Atta girl." Then he starts to thrust into you faster, his cock pouding you deeper than before. A loud moan of his name echoes through the room, you grab onto the sheets, eyes rolling back. He was hitting all the right spots.

When your velvety walls start to clench around his length, he knows that you're close, so he slows down, wanting to savor every bit of you. Sylus takes one of your breats in his mouth, his tongue eagerly swirling against your nipple. The combined pleasure is making you lose your mind, your back arches. "Syl! Faster please!" You're begging him now, something you swore you'll never do. "Is that so? Well, what my kitten wants, she gets." He takes hold of your legs and puts them on his shoulder.kissing your ankle before his movements speed up. Sylus admires the way your breasts bounce at his every hard thrust, he admires how your body reacts so perfectly to his. "Syl! I'm close!" The desperation in your voice makes his cock twitch, you feel it too. His hand moves down your leg until it reaches your core, he gently rubs his thumb over your clit to get you to cum. It works, tou cum around his cock, your body twisting in pleasure as your orgasm washes over you. He follows, pulling out quickly and painting your stomach white, his eyes are closed for a moment before he looks at you again. Sylus gives you a few moments before he turns the position around si you were on top of him. "We aren't done yet. Afterall..." He looks up, looking at your reflections in the mirror. "...it's time for me to admire the view too, sweetie."

[girl-lostconnection]

I just wanna say I love your fruit bat!reader and I just had to think about the boys further misunderstanding when reader maybe has a darker aesthetic, but reader doesn't get at all the connection cause like yeah black's just a neat colour, oh I guess vampires are cool. Wait me? *Mouthful of orange or something* me no fruits all the way? I don't know what you mean.

On one side it would be incredibly funny as misunderstanding but the devil is whispering in my ear so let’s walk the other way.

Imagine Reader freshly selected to join the team, nervous about meeting new people who they read EVERYTHING on, just to be ready.

And no one is hostile, right? They are friendly, almost too friendly, which grates on your nerves a little but you know, maybe you are thinking too much about it?

Works up until the first joke about the vampires, huge wolf operator (you find out later that his call sign is Ghost).

“Know why people don’t like workin’ with vampire bats?”, the question catches you off guard, your eyes snapping to the man’s eyes and you tilt your head to the side. You don’t know him yet, you aren’t sure how much of a reaction is allowed in this circumstance.

“‘Cause they are pain in the neck”, he announces, his brown eyes boring a hole into you, his tail wagging like he is waiting for you to start laughing.

You don’t. You stare right back at him, fingers flexing so the sharp points of your claws dig into your palm and you manage a smile that feels a little too forced.

Big wolf in front of you apparently sees it as well, because you can see the way his jaw flexes under the mask.

So for some reason he decides to give it another go. (Only months later you will find out that Simon was desperately scrambling for all the bat x vampire puns he remembered, thinking that the first one sounded a little too abrasive)

“What drink does bat order at the bar?”, he asks, his left ear giving in a small twitch that catches your eye. He sure is big for the wolf, most of their family you met in the past were tall and lean but this guy is built like a bloody tank.

“What?”, you ask, heart beating a little harder than you’d like it, anxiety coiling in your gut.

“A Bloody Mary”, wolf hums out, his ear giving in another twitch and corners of your mouth curl upwards. Cute.

Wolf’s tail starts to wag again, eyes satisfied as he walks off and you follow him to see your new space and unpack.

Isn’t so bad for the first meeting, right?

But in hindsight every interaction from then on felt…somehow forced. Recurring about blood and meat and fucking Halloween. Remarks about wearing too much black or the way Soap once chuckled at the silver chain with a beautiful red cross. Not a religious symbol but simply an accessory you liked.

It all was piling up so quickly you decided to just…stay on the outside. Maybe that would be better. Maybe they were trying to tell you that they didn’t want a bat and didn’t like bats.

That they didn’t like you.

It takes time to undo and the process is slow — you are a tough nut to crack, but they don’t try to crack you. Just…make amends, yeah?

Your relationship with Simon makes a cycle when he peels you oranges, eyes soft as you devour pieces of peaches.

“Do you know what’s a vegetarian vampire bat’s favourite fruit, luv?”, he hums out, placing a peeled orange in your bowl, something in his tone making you feel fuzzy.

“What is it?”, his tail is wagging and god the way he looks at you makes something tender in your chest ache, you mouth voluntarily falling open when he pushes a piece of peach in it, eyes crinkling.

“A neck-tarine”, Simon murmurs, his tail wagging harder when you laugh after a beat, juices from fruit dripping down your chin.

You shake your head at him in faux disbelief and he grins, popping a slice of orange in his mouth.

“Can do it all night”

You roll your eyes and instinctively smack his hand away when he tries to steal your bowl.

“That’s what I’m afraid of”

[hyunjuenthusiast]

ITS ME AGAIN😎

need a jealous!hyun-ju x fem!reader who gets a bit too close with gi-hun, ANDD reader ends up getting edged and fingered roughly by jealous!hyun-ju as reader tried to quiet down in the bathroom??

TYSM I LVOE YOUR FICS🫶

HEYYYY👋🏻 Are you becoming a regular?!😂 Let me see what I can do!

BEAUTIFUL ENVY

Summary: During the games, you become close with Hyun-ju, not realizing the envy that builds inside of her when you start also getting close to Gi-Hun.

Pairing: Jealous!Hyun-ju x Femreader!

Warnings: SMUT and jealousy.

Not an adult? Don't read! 🔞

Hyun-ju grits her teeth as she hears you laugh along with Gi-Hun's group. Just because they decided to work together didn't mean that you could just leave her.

That thought made Hyun-ju tense. You weren't together. She had no right to be feeling this way. But the sight of you smiling at someone else after you had been so kind to her, made her want to strangle Gi-Hun.

Looking back over at you, her blood boils. Gi-Hun was offering you his gimbap. He'll no.

She was walking towards you before she could even think. You looked up at her as she stood in front of you and Gi-Hun, the rest of the group talking about random things, not really paying attention to Hyun-ju.

"Hyun-" You go to question, only to be silenced when she holds out her gimbap as well. The look she was giving Gi-Hun made you tense where you sat.

With both of them offering you their food, you didn't know what to do. "Um, thank you both, but I'm not that hungry!" You say, letting out a nervous chuckle that only Gi-Hun returns.

You give Hyun-ju a soft smile, trying to ease whatever tension this was. You can see her relax a little.

She sits on the other side of you. Young-il asked Gi-Hun about what he thought the next game would be, and you listened closely, leaning in closer.

You heard her scoff before you felt her hand on your forearm. She pulled you a bit closer to her, leaning down close to your ear. "He doesn't know anything about the next game. He was wrong about the second game. We shouldn't trust him." She whispers.

You frown. You did trust Gi-Hun. He helped everyone in red light, green light. He's voted to go home, which is more than Hyun-ju has done. She voted to stay once after all.

"He's not untrustworthy-" you try to say until you notice her soft glare, making you shrink a bit into yourself. "You can't be sure of someone's intentions, sweet girl, especially in here." She explains softly. You knew she was right. But that means you also couldn't trust her.

She seems to know what you were thinking, and you see her eyes soften. "You know I'd never betray you, don't you? Not after what happened to Young-Mi." She whispers, making you look down in guilt.

"I know." You whisper back softly, your breath hitching as she reaches to hold your hand. "I won't let anyone hurt you. Not any of the players, not any of the guards, not even yourself." She says. Your eyebrows furrow for a moment, not really knowing what she means by not letting you hurt yourself, but she doesn't clarify.

You made a mistake. That's all. You wouldn't leave her. Not for him. He's old enough to be your father. But the way you clung to him during lights out...

She clenches her fists. As soon as the guards shut it down and announced it was time for bed, she grabbed your wrist, making you get out of your bed. Not enough to hurt, but enough were you knew she was serious. You question her with your gaze, but she looks straight ahead, her pace much faster than yours.

She knocks on the door, and a triangle guard opens the little window to see what she wants. "She got her period. Would you please let us through so I can help her clean her pants?" She asks making your eyes widen. You weren't on your period.

When the window shuts, she quickly takes off her jacket, tying it around your waist. Knocking again, this time, the guard lets you through.

She was smart. The guard checked your backside when you walked past him.

As soon as the woman's restroom door shut, Hyun-ju rushed and pushed you against a wall, her touch firm, making you gasp.

"W-What are you doing?" You ask, the look in her eyes changing from firm...to hunger.

"You let him hold you." She whispers close to your ear. "W-what? Wh-" She inturupts, "Gi-Hun. Player 456. You let that asshole touch you." She sneers. You have to crane your neck to look up at her. "I-I don't underst-" you try to say.

"You will." Hyun-ju says, her eyes dark. One of her hands travels down your body, stopping just under the line of your bra. "What color is it, baby?" She asks in a whisper.

You give her a confused look. "What color is your bra?" She says, one of her fingers tracing where your nipple is.

Your eyes widen, but you feel the need to answer her. "P-Purple" you whisper, hearing her inhale sharply.

"Has he seen it? Gi-Hun?" She asks, starting to lift your shirt up gently. "N-No of course not, w-why would-" She shuts you up with a kiss. Her lips are softer than what you would have thought, and moist.

"I see the way he looks at you, baby." She says as she breaks the kiss. "And you give him those sweet puppy eyes, don't you?" She asks, lifting your shirt over your head, her eyes immediately taking in the sight of your breasts.

"I don't." You whisper. "You do, baby. Don't lie. But that's okay, I'll fix it." She says, leaning down and kissing the edge of your cleavage. "Mmm, so soft." She mumbles against the supple flesh of your right breast.

"What do you mean? Fix what?" You ask, a little breathless already. You can feel her smirk. "I'll make sure you only look at me." She says, keeping her eyes on yours as she rips your bra.

You gasp, making her chuckle darkly. She throws the now useless peice of cloth on the bathroom floor, returning her hands to your chest, squeezing.

Hyun-ju leans back down, waisting no time with taking your nipple into her mouth. The cold bathroom, in contrast to her hot mouth, makes you shiver.

You gasp as she switches to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. "H-Hyun-ju we can't" you whimper, making her chuckle. She's already kissing her way down your stomach, getting on her knees in front of you.

Faster than you can think, she has your pants pulled down, looking at your matching purple underwear. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby." She whispers, starting to kiss up your thigh.

She gently kisses your clit through your panties, making you gasp. "I can see how wet you are, Y/n. You've soaked your panties." She whispers, looking up at you hungrily. You don't protest as she slides them down next.

"Oh baby..." She coos, looking at your pussy. "Your little clit is swollen...do you want me to make it all better? Hmm?" She asks, making you whine.

You nod.

That clearly didn't satisfy her because the next second, you feel a small slap to your pussy. "Use your words like a good girl." She says firmly. Holy fuck.

"Y-Yes...please make it better!" You whimper. She gives you a smile before you feel her tongue on your clit.

She teases you just a little before reaching up and putting two of her fingers inside you. "Fuck baby, you're so tight. You can take another one, can't you?" She says, her tone mocking. When you whine, shaking your head, she adds another anyway, giving you a nice stretch.

Having both her fingers and her tongue feels like heaven. Pure heaven. But that thought quickly leaves your mind when you feel her change the pace.

You could hear the wet sound of your pussy as her fingers set an unforgivable pace. "H-Hyun-ju!" You squel. "T-To much p-please slow down!" You moan.

You look down, watching as she pulls away from your clit, smirking.

"To bad." She says, fingerings you a little harder. "Oh fuck!" You scream, the back of your head against the wall.

"Do you think Gi-Hun could make you feel this good? Hmm?" She asks, her eyes sharp. You quickly shake your head, which makes her stop.

"What did I say about using your words?" She sneers, taking her fingers away. "No no please don't stop!" You beg, your hips lifting trying to get her back.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" She asks, her lips kissing the skin just above your clit.

You go to nod, but remember her words. "Yes!" You say, making her tikt her head. "Tsk tsk tsk, say it properly, baby. Tell me you'll be a good girl for me." She commands.

"I'll be a good girl for you!" You say quickly, making her chuckle once more. "Only for me?" She asks, and you nod quickly. "Yes yes only for you Hyun-ju!"

She puts her fingers back inside you, setting another brutal pace. "Are you going to cum for me?" She asks.

"Yes yes! I'm so close!" You whimper. Not expecting her to pull away again, but she does.

"I don't think so. Not until I know you're sorry. You hurt my feelings with the way you looked at Gi-Hun. How do I know you won't let him touch you again? Hmm?" She says, licking her fingers clean of you.

You almost cry. "I am sorry, Hyun-ju. I'm so sorry, I only want you!"

She pretends to think, her thumb reaches up, keeping you on edge by rubbing tight circles on your already overstimulated clit.

"If I see you even look in his direction, I'll have you over my knee, no matter if we're in the bathroom or not." She says, making you nod.

This time, when you feel her fingers and that familiar pressure building in your tummy, she doesn't pull away. "Cum for me, pretty girl." She says, her voice sending vibrations through your core.

She stimulates you through your climax, making sure not a second of pleasure is wasted. "Such a good girl for me." She whispers, her head getting awfully close to your core.

"W-what are y-" you can't finish your sentence as she licks into you. "Mmm let me clean you up, baby." She says.

After she helps you put your shirt and pants back on, she picks up the discarded bra, putting it in her pocket. "Come on, sweet girl, you need to rest for tomorrow." She says, her tone now soft.

She holds your hand on the walk back to your bunk. She even kisses your forehead before she walks back to her own.

You don't notice that she makes a stop first.

Hyun-ju walks up to player 456's bed, leaving a torn purple fabric next to his shoes.

Stay away from her girl Gi-Hun✋🏻😏

[stellarshifter]

✨ Pst? Y'okay? I saw you have a mental breakdown in the corner (Me too, babe, me too)

Agh...shiftok ruin your vibe? Spreading bullshit? C'mere. I got ya.

✨ BREAKDOWN OF MISINFO

1. "Your script might not all happen, or be in that reality."

Like huh???

Scripting, infallible, or meaningless?

Oh babies... Scripting is infallible. Wanna know why? It's literally a GPS for your awareness to shift to the reality that all of your chaotic (and probably very fun) notes are very real in! Like, c'mon, who would even script if it meant nothing like that???? I wouldn't waste my precious time... I could be looking at vintage shops around town. Like seriously, no.

2. "You need a method to shift"

Bitch please. Do I need to astral project and beat your ass? I'll do it. Don't test me.

Look, methods are fun and all. But that's it! They're fun and can help you become aware! But that's all they are. You don't have to even to work on your subconsious. Know why? That bitch ain't catching a ride with you! You just gotta be aware. Just shift your focus.

3. "You gotta stay hydrated.." bleh bleh I don't even remember the rest.

Bullshit. Sure you should stay healthy and hydrated for you! But that's nothing to do with shifting. This vessel's priorities don't matter in terms of shifting or not!

4. "You can't age up/down that's immoral!"

...I need a minute... I dont wanna commit arson.

Who the fuck thinks they're so intilted to tell others what they can't shift to be?? You need to fucking chill. Aging up or down doesn't matter because you are literally shifting to a reality where you're that age. You will have that mentality unless you script you don't. For fucks sake, stop.

5. "You can't shift to where you're a different ethnicity/gender/sexual orientation, that's disgusting"

Again... who gave you the right? Hm? I'll wait.

Unless you're being a weird fetishist creep. Then you're good, babe. And for all of this, once again. There's infinite realities where you're all different enthcities, genders, and sexual orientations. There's nothing wrong with shifting there either!

6. "Respawning is unethical"

Okay, this started due to people misunderstanding respawning as something it is not! It is not suicide. You people need to chill on TikTok. Swear to god you fear mongers!

Respawning is just cutting ties with this reality. Which lets be honest? In its state? For the love of God, me too, honey. Me too. The only difference between respawning and permashifting is that you'll never remember this reality. There's no harm. Okay?

7. "Permashifting is not okay"

As a permashifter, fuck you. You intilted bitches spewing bullshit because you come from different circumstances.

You have no clue what people are going through, and even if they live perfect lives, you are 1000000% valid permashifting. Go home, babies. You deserve it!

8. "Shifting shouldn't be used for escapism"

Look most of us were day dreamers? Right? Right?

I was a kid with a WILD ASS imagination. I mean wild, and I come from a not so cool environment. I used shifting as escapism when I first started. And y'know what? That's okay! If you are just wanting to leave to get a break! Do it! No one can stop you. There's no shifting police.

Which..gets me to this one.

9. "The shifting police will find you"

Bitch please. Shut up. My brother in christ, what fanfic you reading?

Shifting police do NOT exist (unless you want them to. You do you)

Seriously no one. I mean no one, not even me. Not even the holiest of holiest can stop you. We live in a multiverse that does not run by morals set up by shiftokers. And no if you do something questionable the shifting police will not find you. You're safe. I promise

10. "You can get stuck in your DR!"

If we can shift to our DR we can shift again. Like what? Who let this toddler type? That doesn't even make sense.

Honey, I can assure you, you're not stuck here. You're not stuck there.

11. "You can't script relationships that's against their free will!"

Have you ever heard of infinite realities where every single thing you can ever think of exists? Yeah? Then STOOOOOP

You are shifting to a reality where those relationships exist! Where that relationship is real and mutual. Where they feel so much love for you as you do them. No forcing.

Now, if you're holding them in your basement, tying them to a chair and begging them to love you forcefully like you're in a yandere wattpad fic from 2013? Yeah, you need to rethink some things. But if not! You're good!

Whatever relationships you script are requited

12. "Your DR isn't as real as this one"

Woooo, imma throw hands. Let's go. Someone hold my hoops for me? I'm gonna beat a bitch up.

YOUR DR IS A REALITY!!!!!!

Meaning it is just as real as this one. Just as real, maybe even more real! The people are real. The places are real. The experiences are real!

13. "People shift based on genetics"

Aw yes... my new favorite reason to murder.

Anyone and their mama can shift. You can shift, I can shift, the person you randomly saw on the street can shift, fuck your pet can shift. Anyone can. Okay? We are all one. Pure awareness. That's what we all are.

None of that. We are not shifting based off anything but what we all are.

✨ That's all for today, folks. Take care, and remember, you've got this. Go shift, baby!

[quarterlifekitty]

wifey here again with stepdad!Nik, so I think SD would insist on finishing college since she only has like a year left anyway and because she feels like she'll be able to get a job easier with a degree, she doesn't wanna be a burden. Nikolai ofc lets her finish college, it keeps her busy while at home, settling in nicely to their house. He takes care of her every need, and slowly starts to convince her that she doesn't owe him anything, she's his wife now, or soon to be at the very least. All she needs to do is stay home and worry about their little one. Anytime she has doubts about how much he wants her and wants to provide for her she gets reminded thoroughly. It's when SD's bump is getting noticeable that Nik really steps it up. "What if we both miss the important moments?" and SD eventually is like "yeah, okay, but if it ever becomes a burden I'll get a job" and Nik is real proud of himself. SD also becomes very needy, in just the way Nik loves, she wants to be with him as much as possible and needs help a lot because hormones are fucking with her. And she definitely thanks him plenty for his help whenever she can. Bonus NikPrice x SD reader John decides to visit Nik and his new bird since on their last mission Nikolai wouldn't shut up about her and he immediately gets why when he sees SD, she's so sweet and nurturing and she looks gorgeous all round with Nik's kid, stays a few nights and gets drunk one night and jokingly (sorta) tells Nik he'd love to put the next one in her and Nikolai just hums with a smile "why not?" and reader is suddenly being flirted with by her fiance/husband's friend. Is real worried about it cause she likes it and guility goes to Nik who is 1. Very pleased by her honesty and 2. reassures her and tells her that he's okay with it if she is. (Totally wasn't his plan to get his two favorite people together so he could have them both, nope, that's totally not why he raved about her to John and not one other soul. Mmhm)

Also im really sorry if once again this doesn't make sense, stress has got me by a chokehold lately and its making my brain bad lol

Ooooooh wifey you are killing me. Isn’t that the perfect solution, though? You’re so worried about being a burden, let’s bring in another source of income!!

You know. Maybe it’s kinda degrading. But I totally imagine Nik comes up with little tasks for her. Let’s be real, it’s so easy— he saw what her mother was like, he can see how starved she is for approval, it practically blinds her. Things like “I want us to get a new car with some more space before the baby comes— can you research what models are best for family? You have a better mind for things like that than me,” he says with an almost sheepish smile. You’re practically wagging your tail with excitement— and you just look so happy when you present all of your work and he seems so pleased with you.

Also, in a bit of darker move, I can imagine if you’re not as into John as all that— they come up with a story. They say that John wants to have a baby of his own, but he’s not married, and he wants to have a kid before he’s too old and his career gets in the way of romance. So he would love for you to be like a surrogate for him. You’ve done so well with this first pregnancy, and you’re still so young— plus! John would be willing to pay, so it’d be like you’ve got your own income to help out!

The only thing is that John believes in natural conception. And he wants to live with you both during the pregnancy to help out. And he doesn’t actually plan on leaving once you have his kid. And Nik knows how sensitive and caring you are— when you confess to him your doubts about giving the baby up for good once it’s born, he comforts you. Of course he’ll talk to John about it, milaya, he’s sure they can come to an agreement.

[mrsnancywheeler]

ivy // finnick odair x f. reader

masterlist

5.3k words

summary: you've loved finnick as long as you can remember, and he's loved you too, but he doesn't want the capitol to know that.

warnings: angst w/ a happy ending, friends to lovers, a slow burn to get together but not to catch feelings, underage drinking, some emotional cheating not on reader or finnick, teenagers being teenagers, finnick kind of being mean to some people, reader runs out of a wedding (her wedding), allusions to the hunger games and trafficking, no use of y/n, unedited

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The smell of the salty ocean air had always brought you comfort, happiness, anything you could have wished for. It made everything feel so worth it. Long days working, early mornings, a few hours in school, late nights trying to fill in with any freedom you could find, and the few hours of sleep crammed in. All of it was worth it to feel the breeze on your face once again.

“What are you doing out here alone?” A voice interrupted your solace, but it was a voice that you instantly recognized.

“Finnick, you’re back!” You turned to smile at him and his own smile only made you want to smile wider. He’d always had this inherent brightness to him, he was like the sun, always had been. Shining so brightly, providing so much inherent warmth.

“Yeah, you miss me?” Finnick lifted an eyebrow cockily before sitting rather unceremoniously in the sand beside you.

“In your dreams.” You give an all too playful, all too exaggerated eye roll, leaning back on your elbows.

“Oh you know it, honey.” He’s winking and you can’t help but actually roll your eyes this time. It’s been this way between the two of you as long as you can remember, the lighthearted flirting, the playful banter. It just felt so natural whenever you were with him. Finnick kept sitting up and you didn’t prop yourself up until he was putting a bottle in his mouth.

“Oh my god, is that-”

He chuckled, “You know it, snagged some extra bottles off the train when I was getting back a few days ago.” Finnick handed the bottle out and you eagerly took it. He always took a few days to himself when he got back from the Capitol, locked in that big, haunting house of his. Everyone knew better than to ask him about it, you always just counted it as part of his stay at the Capitol. So him “coming back,” was really whenever he reemerged in the streets of District 4.

This alcohol was always so much more pleasant then whatever concoctions people would make at parties, it burned, but not in a way that tasted like pure chemicals. No, this was much more enjoyable, and much more rare. “How rebellious of you, tsk tsk tsk.” You shook your head, tongue clicking as you handed the bottle back to him.

“Anything for you.” He flashed that winning smile that had everyone swooning, a smile you’d forced yourself to be immune to.

“Mmmm, I’m flattered for your crimes to be completely about me, and not you wanting to get shit faced on the beach.”

Finnick put the bottle in the sand between you two, “Of course not, I put wanting to see your shit faced on the beach way above my own needs.

“And what a gentleman you are!” You laughed, picking up the bottle and tilting it towards him before you took another drink of the bubbles.

You weren’t sure long the two of you had spent laughing about every stupid thing you could think of, but the bottle was almost gone, the sun setting. Finnick was picking up handfuls of sand and letting it sift through his fingers, you were letting the last few ways of sunlight warm your face.

“You know who I heard is desperately in love with you?” Your eyes are closed, smiling at the sun as it slowly fades away.

“You? Because I’ve known about that one for years.”

“No, asshole!” You sit up enough to shove him playfully and he’s laughing, which makes you laugh too, he’s so infectious. “Moira!”

Finnick takes what is probably the final sip from the bottle, “Who’s that?”

“You are such a dick, Finnick!” The smile hasn’t left your face though, in fact you’ve been feeling kind of floaty for a while now.

“What? I honestly don’t know, I swear! Should I?”

“Yes! You were flirting with her the other week, her parents run the, god, what do they run?”

“Don’t look at me!”

“Fuck, um, oysters! They do oysters, and you were talking to her at the market, flirting with her.”

“I was not flirting!”

“You were!” You copy his facial expressions, his defensive eyes, trying to suppress every giggle that wants to force its way out.

“That’s how I talk to everyone.”

“Well, I know that, but she doesn’t. Anyways, um…” You’re taking a second to rub your face, trying to regain your train of thought in your fuzzy brain.

“Somebody is shitfaced on the beach!” Finnick is poking at your nose.

“I am not! Oh my god, I’m not. I’m not!”

“Whatever you say, gorgeous. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Oh, fuck off! As I was saying, Moira, thinks that the two of you are meant to be or something, that you’re gonna get married someday, I think she’s already planning out the wedding. So, I do need to know what I should be bringing, like what wedding gifts are you-”

“You think you are so funny.” Finnick rolls his eyes.

“You’re the one who’s laughing.”

“No, I am not!” He says, too defensively, and the two of you stare at each other in silence until you’re both cackling. By the time you’ve both stopped the sun is almost all the way down. A comfortable silence has settled between the two of you, “I’m never going to fall in love with anyone.” Finnick breaks the silence, throwing a pebble he found into the water. Your initial instinct is to say something snarky, but with one glance you can tell he’s being serious, the alcohol must have tricked him into being vulnerable. “I’m not going to let them hurt me through that.”

You don’t ask who ‘they’ are, you don’t really need him to say, you’d figured out for yourself what the odd cryptic things he’d mumble really meant. He didn’t need to open up like that if he didn’t want to, you could read him far too easily. “Never?” Your knees move up so you can lay your arms across them and prop up your head.

“Nope, never.” His gaze was trained steadily on the ocean before you both, but yours was on every small expression that could cross his face. You’d memorized every expression he could make.

You didn’t mention that he was only 16, an age that seemed far too young to claim to never love again when he would probably live 70 more years, a sad life to force himself into. He had his reasons though, even if he wouldn’t tell them to you, so you’d respect them. That’s what best friends are for. “Well, you better tell Moira the wedding is off, I feel like she might’ve already bought a dress though, so-”

There it is. He’s smiling again, and you’re successful. You have to make a pact to yourself too though, you can never love him anymore than you do right now, because you already love him far too much.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“Don’t you dare!” You’re screaming through giggles, running away from the two boys trying to throw you into the ocean. They’re about to catch you when a very recognizable, honey-dripped voice is interrupting them.

“Don’t! It’s her birthday, Caspian just brought in a crate of white liquor.” Finnick says and the boys are off running to drink as much as they can before it runs out. As soon as they’ve moved though, Finnick is sweeping you up in his arms.

“Finnick!” You’re screeching instantly.

“What? You thought I was here to save you? Absolutely not, just wanted to do the honorary birthday girl splash myself!” He throws in some unnecessary spinning on his way to the water and you’re laughing, but not even trying to fight your way out of his arms, before being tossed into the shallow water.

You’re absolutely drenched when you sit up, and he’s trying to stifle his laughter. “You are evil, Finnick Odair! Absolutely evil.” It’s freezing, but in the best of ways, you love nights spent in the water. You brush your hands across your face, getting the water out of your eyes.

“You should’ve known better than to trust me.” His smirk is so unbelievably smug and you hate him for it, hate that you love it.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. At least help me up.” You reach out your arm and he sighs, taking it, so you quickly pull him down with you. It was far too easy, and you know he let you do it, but you laugh at him anyways. “What happened to knowing better? Takes to one to know one, I guess.” Before you can get another snarky remark in though he’s digging his fingers into your side, tickling you until you’re gasping for air, sides aching from laughter. “Fin, stop, stop it!” Splashing water at him to try and make him stop, but it does nothing.

He finally halts his actions when a rather annoyed voice is calling out to him, “Finnick!” You both look up to see Moira with her arms crossed, “You said you were only gonna be a minute!”

“Right, sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, pointing at you with his free hand, “Found her!”

“Yeah, I can see that.” The way she says it is so icy it makes you want to shiver. “Come on, we should get inside, do cake and all that.”

“Yeah.” Finnick stands up, grabbing your hand to pull you up with him, and there’s a second where there’s a pause. Hand still in his as he looks at you, shining so angelic under the moonlight, he has to scold himself for it as he pulls his hand away. You scold yourself as well for even sensing a spark of something, he doesn’t want to fall in love, he won’t. So you need to be okay with that.

The walk back up to his house is quiet besides the sounds of seagulls, or the ocean waves crashing up and down the shore. You hate that you resent Moira, especially when you know she’s going to be let down just as you’ve been. Yet you are, he’s still your best friend, every moment you can have with him is so immensely precious. You don’t need anyone else hogging it up.

You’re shivering by the time you get inside of the house, still completely drenched, and the breeze hadn’t helped a bit. Finnick is quick to get you a towel the moment he looks at you, “Here you go, honey. Can’t have you getting hypothermic on me, especially on your birthday.” His hands rub up and down your arms, over the towel, trying to heat you up faster.

“Well whose fault would that be?” You jab back, but your voice is soft.

“Oh, I’ll make it up to you.” He clicks his tongue, moving a hand to softly move some of the wet hair that’s stuck to your face. His skin is somehow so warm even though he’d gotten just as soaked as you had. His thumb brushing across your face, looking into your eyes as he does it. Part of you hates him for this, he has to know what he’s doing, but you won’t tear yourself away. He’s addicting like that. His hand has just stayed still, holding the side of your face, and it’s as if neither of you can hear the rest of the party going on around you. It’s as if he’s forgotten himself to stare at you.

“Finnick, cake!” God, it’s so hard not to hate Moira nowadays. Her voice pries him away from you, out of the warmth and comfort of his touch.

“I’ve got it.” He still maintains enough eye contact though to show you the eye roll that’s pointed at her. Before he’s disappeared into the kitchen to grab said cake.

You’re sitting on the couch not long after that, fork pushing around your slice, as your eyes try not to bore into Moria’s head. Finnick is surrounded by a small group of people, leaning on the frame of a doorway, being his usual magnetic, sunshine self, and there she is. Draped all over him, laughing just a little too loudly at everything she says. It’s infuriating. You know you shouldn’t be jealous, you have no power over who does or doesn’t let that close to him, and you know he doesn’t love her. It’s still a bubbling anger though, one you try so hard to suppress, that forces itself forward, despite your own wishes. In fact, you beg it not to, but it persists. Why should she get to do that and think she’s so deserving of his love? You love him miles deeper than anybody else even knowing he’ll never love you the same. Someone is trying to talk to you, but you can’t hear a word they’re saying. Eventually you push yourself off the couch, leaving the plate, and are grabbing the last bottle of white liquor to go sit on the porch.

You’ve drunk at least half of the bottle of burning liquor when you hear the door opening behind you, “What’s wrong, honey?” Finnick is sitting right beside you, body heat already exerting off of him.

“Just needed some air.” You lie through your teeth and keep your eyes focused forward as you take another drink.

There’s a pause, he always knows when you’re lying, but he also knows how to read you the same way you’ve learned to read him. He knows better than to bring up why you’d choose to not be honest right now. “They’re looking for you to do gifts.”

You exhale, trying to breath out the negative emotions shrouding you. “I don’t need anything.” You say, finally looking at him.

“Sound the alarms, she’s 17 and too cool for the rest of us now.” He jokes, taking the bottle out of your hand to have a drink himself, shaking his head after gulping it down. “Remind me next time to smuggle more than I usually do, this is disgusting.”

You snort the smallest bit as you look down to the wooden porch, picking at it, when the door is opening again, and it’s that last voice you want to hear. “Finnick, what are you doing?” You are involuntarily grimacing at the sound of her voice, and you really know you shouldn’t, but jealousy isn’t a demon you fight off well.

“Moira?” Finnick isn’t even turning behind him.

“What?” She tries to sound somewhat sweet through the exasperated tone, honestly you’d be annoyed too if you were her, but you’re not.

“Fuck off, bother someone who cares.” He takes another drink from the bottle, and you know how much that probably hurt her, but you’re so glad she’s gone, so glad it was him who said something. Plus, isn’t this what being a teenager is supposed to be like?

“You’re such an asshole.” You say once the door has shut again, but you can’t stop yourself from smiling.

“You were jealous.” Finnick shrugs, taking yet another sip before trying to pass the bottle back to you, but you’re too stunned to speak, let alone grab it back. “What?” He chuckles, giving a cheeky smile.

“I was not!” You argue back when you’ve finally been able to regain some speech, feeling your cheeks burning up. Grabbing the bottle from his hand to chug some of the liquor down.

“I know you were, you don’t have to lie about it, it’s fine. She’s gone now.” He’s drunk, that much is abundantly clear. This is the sort of stuff that’s always remained unsaid between the two of you.

“You don’t need to do that for me.” You finally let yourself react, stop being defensive. There’s no point in hiding from a truth that you both know. It’s so mean of him though, to know you love him yet carry on playing with you as he does. Is it worse for you to let him?

“Not like her and I were going anywhere, anyways.” He cocks his head to the side.

“You knew what she wanted, Finnick, don’t be cruel.” You finish the rest of the bottle and stare into the dark night before you.

“Do you think I’m cruel?” Finnick’s voice feels so vulnerable, letting a small piece of that side of him break through.

You sigh, and you do want to reassure him, but when he’s being like this it feels more harmful to lie to him, so you divert, “Don’t think twice, it’s alright.” He might not be cruel, but that doesn’t mean that’s not how you feel deep down. He looks down at the ground, nodding, frowning a little, “Fin-” You instantly want to take it back, you’re not trying to hurt him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, I’m sorry.” He turns his head to look at you, and you avert your gaze forward again before standing suddenly.

“We should go inside, she’s right, we’re keeping everyone waiting.” You go to turn towards the door.

“Honey.” He’s grabbing your arm and you turn around to look at him, trying to ignore the way his touch tingles up the rest of your arm. You look at him expectantly and suddenly his lips are pressed to yours. He tastes like you’d imagined he would, like honey and saltwater. This only furthers the proof that he can’t help but be somewhat cruel, you know this will change nothing, and yet you can’t pull away. So you kiss him back, it’s really so brief, and you can taste the alcohol on both of your breaths as well, but this is the only time this can ever happen so you let it. When he finally pulls away he just rests his forehead against yours and you notice that he’s crying. So you don’t say a thing, just let him. He presses another kiss to your forehead when he’s finally been able to force the tears away, and it’s time to head back inside. With the silent acceptance that neither of you will talk about this ever again, and you keep to that promise.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I hate him.” Finnick remarks, throwing a random rock he found into the waves.

“Well, it’s a good thing you're not the one dating him then, isn’t it?” You stretch your arms out to let the wind fully engulf your body.

Finnick glowers at you, “I should have some say, you’re my best friend, I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you looking out for me, Finnick!” You say it too harshly and your laugh is much too incredulous for either of your tastes. “Sorry. Finn, I know you mean well.”

“Then just listen to me, not him, okay? Anyone, but him.” He’s turning to you, pleading, grabbing your hands in the warmth of his.

“Finnick, you said the same thing about Irving-” He’s about to cut you off with some excuse, but you don’t let him, “And Malik, you can’t do it to Lir too!”

“Don’t we have veto power? Like, with Moira!”

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Finnick, and it was two years ago! We’ve grown up and I have let you veto and veto, but Finnick, I- I don’t want to be alone forever!” You knew eventually this conversation would have to be had, especially now, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

“You’re not alone, you’re never going to be alone.” Finnick is letting go of one of your hands to cradle your head and you don’t know why you let him when you should try to pull away.

“You know what I mean.” He does, you both do, and the waves crash as the words settle into the recesses of each of your brains. Finally he’s letting go of you completely, rubbing his face, trying to hide his emotions somehow. “Finnick, listen…” He looks up at you expectantly, raising an eyebrow in a way that feels somewhat scathing, but you have to brave it. Despite the fact that you can feel your heart beating out of your chest and that you are completely sick to your stomach, “Lir and I, we’re, we’re, um, fuck, Finnick, Lir and I are getting married.”

Whatever he expected you to say it most certainly wasn’t that and his reaction makes it seem like you’ve just shot him in the chest. You so desperately want to take it back, but you know that you can’t. You have to move on, you can’t let your life be dedicated to wishing for a love that he’ll never commit to giving you. Then you’re shocked because he’s laughing, sliding himself back into his cocky persona.

“Honey, you’re 19. This is a life commitment, don’t act out like this.” The idea that you’re ‘acting out’ makes you angrier than you’ve ever been with him in your life.

“Finnick, you know better than anyone that someone’s life can be gone like that.” You snap your fingers, “I want to live my life!”

He nods, angrily, swallowing, “So, you love him?”

“He loves me.”

This time Finnick’s laugh is cold, biting, “And that’s fair to him, how? Wow, I’d expect more from you, honey-”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” The way you say it makes him still, he’s never seen you like this before, never heard your voice be so rigid. “I never said it was fair, do you think I feel like I’m doing the right thing? Because I don’t. Fuck, it keeps me up at night, I know, he deserves better, I fucking know that. And it’s so selfish, but what about me?” The tears have started slipping down your face before you can stop them, it’s like you’re trying to choke on them. “I want to be loved, really, truly loved. And maybe it will haunt me for the rest of my days, but it’s the only thing I have ever really wanted.” You take a second to let yourself breath, to wipe some of the tears away, “Finnick, I have never pushed you, or asked you, I have done exactly what you wanted because I respect your decision. You don’t even have to tell me why, you never do, but if I can’t be with the person who I love, why can’t you let me have this?”

You’ve finally calmed down your tears and your breathing has become steady once again, and Finnick is nodding slowly. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re not selfish for that.” He finally says.

“Thank you.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The soft fabric of the dress is so comforting on your skin, not itchy like you’d expect a wedding dress to be. No, it’s flowy and the wind is sure to make it billow around you. One of your bridesmaids, Nerissa, is weaving flowers into your hair with the seashells that had been so carefully attached to the little pins. As always, the sound of the ocean waves through the open window relaxes any nerves that tried to approach.

“You look beautiful.” Finnick’s voice startles you and you smile at him in the mirror.

“Finnick! What are you doing here?” You ask and Nerissa tries to stick in one final pin.

“I know technically I shouldn’t sneak in before it starts, but I have something for you.” He’s got a twinkle in his eye as he approaches, and you can’t not smile back at him. Nerissa moves and suddenly he’s standing beside you, carefully moving your hair out of the way. Finnick adjusts a necklace onto your neck, glistening pearls, you notice they’re blue, the rarest color.

“Oh, Finn.” Your fingers trace across them as he clasps the necklace together/

“I got them for you last time I was in the Capitol, made me think of you.” His face is then right next to yours, warm cheek pressed to yours, “Something new and something blue.” He’s got that award-winning, cheeky smile, but there’s something sad in his eyes that makes you sad too.

“Thank you.” You turn to actually face him and say the words so softly, even though you know you shouldn’t, like you’re trying to let him know that you do still love him. Finnick looks at you, smirk turning into a soft smile.

“Of course, honey.” A nickname he definitely shouldn’t be using, but you don’t care, and he raises his hand to brush a stray hair behind your ear. His burning touch is so comforting, and yet it unearths all the anxiety about what you’re doing, all the anxiety you’ve been trying to push down. Suddenly he seems to realize what he’s doing and pulls his hand away, which you accidentally chase after. “You really do make the most beautiful bride.” Finnick straightens himself and stands up, about to walk out, “Oh, and I got you another gift, out on the table, a proper gift. And, I snuck some good bottles of champagne out onto the table.” He smiles and you can’t resist smiling and chuckling back at him.

“Thank you.” You watch him go so fondly, and then have to shake yourself off a bit. You need to remember what you’re about to do, why, you can’t get distracted. You want him so bad, but he can’t be the one you need, it’s not him.

That’s the mantra you repeat to yourself when you’re finally about to walk down the aisle. You’re so thankful that it’s on the beach, desperately wishing for the sound of the waves, the smell of the ocean, the feeling of its misty breeze to give you the same comfort it always does, but it refuses. The churning of your stomach refuses to subside as you clutch onto the arm of your father to try and not fall, as your feet are starting to feel resistant. This happens to every bride though, right? Nerves are common, so is the feeling of cold feet, but you can do this. You have to do this. It’s the closest thing you’re ever going to have to the life you really want, to who you really want.

You feel almost like you’re out of your body as you walk down the seemingly infinite aisle. Lir is smiling so sweetly, he is so sweet, with his bright blue eyes, the curl of his brown hair, but you can’t stop your brain from filling all those attributes in for a sea green pigment instead, or waves of blonde. You’re scared your bouquet might break from how tight your fingernails are crushing into it. Everything feels heavy, you can’t even hear the waves anymore, just the rapid beat of your heart. You wonder if you look as terrified as you feel, that’s the last thing you need. Maybe it does just look like nerves though, if you’re really lucky.

When you finally reach the end, you’re trying not to visibly hyperventilate, and as your father lets go of you to sit down you try to look at him, to ask for some sort of help, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Are you okay?” Lir asks you quietly, brow furrowed. You don’t know why you nod, you do, because you need this, but you know you shouldn’t. You’ve never felt more trapped even if it’s a cage of your own making. “You look stunning.” He whispers before looking back at the officiant who is going on about something. You try to smile, but your eyes dart around the audience, looking for someone they most definitely shouldn’t be looking for. “I’ve never seen that necklace before-” Lir says something else, but you don’t hear it, your fingers trace up to it, feeling each bump.

Every movement, even your breathing suddenly freezes, “I’m so sorry.” You quickly blurt out, staring at Lir, and you really do feel bad, but that guilt isn’t nearly as terrible as the way you feel like you might suffocate. Everything has stopped, even the drone of the officiant, and you are so aware of everyone’s confused eyes being on you, so you make a run for it. Dropping the bouquet and suddenly you feel freer than a bird.

The ocean air is whipping around you and you are getting as far as you can away from all of it. Ripping off your sandals as you go, just letting your feet feel the coarse sand of the beach. Your cheeks feel frozen from the mist hitting them so harshly, but it makes you feel so alive. Most of the flowers and pins of seashells have probably been flung around the ground, the path of you. You keep running until you can’t breathe anymore, until your sides are burning and aching in the best of ways, a fire that burns so perfectly. Letting yourself stop in the water, it wades up to your knees, and you like the dress better that way too. This is what is real.

“Fuck!” You exclaim to no one but yourself as you stare at the sky, spinning in the water. Feeling the sun beat down on you, laughing at yourself, at everything, at nothing in particular.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Suddenly Finnick’s grabbing your arms, steadying you, his cheeks are bright red and you can tell he was running after you. “If it’s just nerves, he’ll understand, everyone will, you can go back, honey.” You’re smiling as you shake your head and he’s furrowing his brow in confusion. “Isn’t this what you want?”

“Oh my god, no! I thought I did, but no.” You press a hand to your forehead, and then to his chest, “And don’t think this is me trying to make you do something that you don’t want, Finn. It’s not, I respect you too much for that, I just, I thought that I needed that, that I needed someone to love me, but I can’t do that to someone. I can’t just hope to love him eventually because that’s just not going to happen, I can’t give up the only thing that might let me.”

Finnick still looks confused as you maintain your smile, your breathing finally allowing itself to go back to normal, “Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes! I’ll be an old maid by the sea, I don’t care, I can’t do it!”

Finnick takes a deep breath and something about the way he does it just tells you exactly what he’s going to say, “Honey, I-”

“I know, Fin, I’ve always known, but I also know you have your reasons for what you do. It’s enough for me to just know.”

He looks at you, like he’s thinking just for a second, “No it’s not.”

“What?”

“That’s not enough. It’s not enough for you, and it’s definitely not enough for me. They can’t have all of me! Maybe it’s selfish, but I want this one thing for myself.”

“You don’t have to say it just because I-”

“I’m not! I almost let you marry another man and I realized, it wasn’t worth it. If you want this, and I want this, let’s just do it. I’ll figure everything else out, just, you should marry me. Please.”

The shock almost stops you from doing anything at all, but the excitement far overcomes that. You pull him in, kiss him, and his hands find your face. Melting into his touch, and never had life felt so right. Wind billowing around, sun shining down, and come what may, at least you have each other.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

As always, thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are always much appreciated. I love you all, and I hope you enjoyed this, I really enjoyed writing it, and I cried while I did 💋

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 135 (Heather's Home!)

Conrad was sitting in the kitchen with Lavender when Heather returned from Selvadorada. "Mommy!" Lavender squealed.

Heather beamed. She'd missed their joyful smiles, but she moved slowly, feeling nauseous again as her body still recovered from the spider bite. "You look a little green," said Conrad with concern.

"You should have seen me a few days ago," she mused. "It looks like the contractors finished the upstairs bedroom while I was gone."

"The snow melted just long enough for them to get it done," said Conrad, showing off the space where Ash would sleep once he returned from spending Easter with the Landgraabs. They both glanced out the windows, noting the falling snowflakes beginning to gather on the ground all over again.

Heather smiled. "Even if the snow doesn't want to leave the Bay, it feels like a new beginning. George and June's murder is solved and the town's doing okay. I'm back from vacation. New season. New bedroom."

"We've got new problems...."

Heather cocked her head in confusion. "Rafa still won't cooperate? We didn't have any trouble with cartels in Selvadorada."

"As relieved as I am to hear that, I'm worried they might've gotten to Rafa and it's holding him back. He won't give up Ximena, but I keep trying. I sent Felix to try to talk to him in Sulani after convincing Melissa didn't work."

"Felix is pretty persuasive," she said hopefully. "I saw on Social Bunny he has a new girlfriend."

"He charmed Lilith without much trouble," Conrad agreed with a nod. "But the same lines won't work on Rafa."

"You could always arrest him and force his hand," she reminded him, but she knew her suggestion would fall on deaf ears.

"It's not just Rafa and his sister," he said carefully. He didn't even know where to begin with John Brindleton's town history lesson, so he skipped it - for now. "I talked to Ash about Ben and his dog and he figured out by himself that his accident as a toddler made it possible for him to see ghosts. Felix confirmed it's the most likely explanation."

"Because he was...Oh my Watcher...So he just sees ghosts? Plural? What if they frighten him?"

"He's not even worried about it. Says he's never met a ghost that he didn't think was living. Doesn't even know if he's ever met more than Ben and Captain Whitaker." She leaned into him, feeling dizzy, and Conrad held out a hand to support her. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Maybe I should lie down. Jet lag hit me on the way into the jungle, and it'll probably hit me again now that I'm home."

Conrad kissed her and put her to bed, taking Lavender to daycare on his way to work. Heather napped for most of the day, calling her parents to cancel plans to go to Henford for Easter dinner because the thought of spending an hour on the speedy Simmerloop made her feel as green as she looked. "I know Hazel's already in town for the weekend. That's good in case this is a flu or something."

"We're sorry we won't see you, but we just want you to rest if you're sick," said her father, Neal. "We'll miss your cooking, though."

"Maybe we'll make it to Henford for Mother's Day, if things aren't too hectic with the clinic rebuild."

"Get well soon, Buttercup. We love you."

"Love you, too."

She hung up the phone, content after a quick chat with her beloved dad despite her guilt over cancelling holiday plans. But she couldn't dwell for long on her feelings before she raced to the bathroom to be sick.

At work, Conrad was in the break room. While his coworkers talked about plans to celebrate his old partner Josephine's retirement party at the Salty Paw, he pulled himself away when his phone rang. "Felix! How's the beach?"

"It's not Felix." Rafa's tone curdled down the line. "He let me borrow his phone to tell you to screw off."

In the tropics, Felix rocked uncomfortably in his flip flops. "He didn't tell me that's what he wanted to say! I told him he might avoid prison entirely if he gives up his sister and he said he wanted to call you."

"And who the hell are you to promise something like that? You're just some weird lawyer who sounds a hundred years older than he looks!"

"Listen to Felix," Conrad urged, careful not to mention Rafa's name in front of his coworkers. "He's the most experienced attorney I know."

Even though Felix had passed the bar only recently, Conrad was telling the truth. He didn't know any other attorneys who'd practiced law as far back as the early 20th Century.

"If I get off with nothing but a slap on the wrist after selling my own sister up the river, the cartel will come for me, for sure."

"You said yourself they're not concerned with Sulani. I know what I'm asking you, and I wouldn't ask if I didn't need your help. She's been all but abandoned by the cartel. I'm sure of it. No one's visited her since she was put behind bars, but you know what she's capable of. You could keep her there, for your benefit as much as mine. Yours and Melissa's."

"You shouldn't have sent her here."

"But you weren't this mad when I did."

"Screw you, Conrad. And stop telling the Ngatas to spy on me. Oliana and her son come by every other day now."

"Maybe they care about you. I know what that's like."

The call ended with a click, and Conrad sighed. He was beginning to think he'd have to bring in the cartel to pressure Ximena, after all, but he didn't relish the possibility in the slightest. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: There was already a sneaky shot of the new bedroom in the Love Day installment because making spring crafts were the only way I knew how to make Valentine's-themed artwork without mods, and I'd already done the reno in the spring save when I wanted to put that shot in.

WCIF Pose: @novapark's Incoming Puke for Heather's bathroom shot. Love it even if Heather is suffering for it; thank you for sharing!

[respectthepetty]

I wanna talk about the toe

You know, the scene where Fujisawa squeezed Sei's injured toe!

In the first episode, Kaori stated that a broken nail was actually a simple fracture and really just needed a little care to strengthen it.

Which is exactly what she did for Sei

But just like everything else in this show, this discussion isn't about a toe. The toe could be about the embarrassment we feel, so we continue to suffer even when an easy fix exists.

And it could also be about the true source of pain.

Kaori and Fujisawa are not bad people, and the show hasn't presented them as such, but Sei questioned if Kaori was aware of how upset Hagiwara was about the growing distance in their relationship.

Then the show immediately answered that question through Ayako's testimony. Kaori isn't just aware; she's happy about their situation.

Sei also asked what Kaori didn't like about Hagiwara.

And the show answered that as well. Kaori doesn't like that he is a man.

They aren't broken. It could just be a fracture. And there is an easy fix. But instead, they continue to suffer.

Then there is the actual toe, which is Sei's toe. He hit his foot on the table, in the house of a man who designs furniture.

Yet Fujisawa is rarely home.

Sei hurt his foot after Fujisawa avoided their conversation, and Fujisawa hadn't been home or spoken to Sei since, which is why he barely found out that Sei had hurt his foot after dinner. Then, he immediately squeezed the toe.

Regardless if Fujisawa designed the table that Sei accidentally walked into, he was part of the reason Sei was in pain. And at first, I felt he wasn't to blame and thought he didn't even notice. But just like with Kairo, he is aware. And he keeps doing it. He squeezed Sei's toe. He just heard the story about how it was hurt. He was looking directly at the toe. And. He. Squeezed. It. He wasn't even gentle when taking off Sei's sock.

Sei excuses the behavior and tells him it doesn't even hurt anymore, but this is the basis of their entire relationship it seems. Fujisawa does something that hurts Sei, and Sei lets it go. It's a vicious little cycle.

Once again, the show hasn't painted anyone as the villain, yet Sei has specifically stated multiple times who he thinks is a "good man," and it isn't Fujisawa.

During this scene, Hagiwara questions Sei about what Fujisawa does for him that makes Sei want to be nice back to him, and the only thing of substance Sei offers is that Fujisawa agreed to live with him.

He states Fujisawa is patient with him, but Fujisawa also demands he never meet up with his pen pal. Sei also states that Fujisawa concedes often, yet the friend they just encountered stated that if anyone wanted to speak to Sei, they had to go through Fujisawa.

It's all very normal behavior due to the circumstances. None of it seems malevolent. And yet Fujisawa wasn't interested in Sei's foot until Sei mentioned that he spoke to his co-worker who asked his girlfriend to look at his foot. Then, he squeezed the toe, which is an odd reaction. Or is it all very normal behavior due to the circumstances?

Sei doesn't have friends. He never attended the work dinners before. Yet now he is going out for dinners, has a co-worker whose girlfriend helped him, has another co-worker who is a bit afraid of him and he finds it funny, and a pen pal who has a girlfriend who he chats with through an email account that just happens to be Fujisawa's name and birthday.

Which reminds me of this co-worker and her wild story.

The woman is in a bad relationship. She is aware that she is in a bad relationship. There is an easy fix. But she doesn't leave.

Everyone, including Kairo and Fujisawa, are very aware of the situation that is unraveling in their relationships, but nobody wants to apply the easy fix. They are avoiding the issues and causing more suffering. Which is strange because Sei and Hagiwara have been shown to take responsibility and fix problems.

So why doesn't Kairo tell Hagiwara that she isn't sexually attracted to him anymore when he tries to initiate sex? Why doesn't Fujisawa tell Sei about his feelings (of jealously) instead of squeezing his toe? Because the easy fixes require communication, and they refuse to communicate, which is why this entire relationship between Hagiwara and Sei extended beyond one email.

Because it was never about the toe.

[cloverapple]

hiii! i came across your blog yesterday, and i love your advice. that's why i feel like you would be the best person to ask these questions that I've been having for the longest time (sorry, long read ahead).

I've studied LOA for the past 2 years or so, and even though i have a good understanding of it, there are some things that always trip me up when it comes to shifting.

how do i deal with waking up to the 3d? yes, by assuming that you are in your dr and that you shifted last night. that's the most logical answer. but even though i know that, sometimes it is a lot easier said than done. for example, a few days ago i wanted to manifest shifting by simply deciding i could shift on command and that i am there. i could be 100% sure the day before that it would happen. the whole day, and even a few days after that I'd stay in that state of being a master shifter, and i would feel amazing because of it. but it's like there always comes a point where i wake up to the 3d and i get discouraged (yes, i acknowledge that i am manifesting that reality by saying this, but i finally have to get this off my chest). my thoughts get all messed up and i start spiraling, returning to my previous state. i start questioning myself a bit and feel down. the main reason for that being time.

it took me so so long to figure out this issue about myself. I'd be like: how long is it gonna take? when will it happen? i know i have it in the 4d but when will it appear in the 3d? having it in the 4d isn't enough, i need to have it in the 3d right now. stuff like that. i find it very difficult to formulate my thoughts, but basically I'm in a spiral of:

watching a video/reading a post about LOA/shifting that reminds me of how easy it is -> applying LOA to shifting/any desire in a way that feels good for a few days at most -> starting to question myself after a few days because it hasn't shown up yet in the 3d (which is caused by me forgetting the role the 3d plays and how LOA works) even though i did everything "right" (e.g. letting go of control or the outcome, deciding, not wavering, etc.) -> falling back into a state where i question how i can shift, what i am doing wrong, etc. -> repeat

how can i break out of this cycle?

i think the main problem here is time and in general the 3d.

i know that the 3d is not a measure of my success, only made up of my current assumptions etc. i know that. but it's like i forget it once i step into the state i wanna be in and stay there for an extended period of time.

i always hear people say that "time isn't real" but i still don't really know what that means, how to apply it or how to internalize it. i really need that mental "click" to finally understand it and use that concept in my favor. because my problem is that with manifesting/shifting, after a while i start asking questions about why it's taking so long the 3d. for example, most nights i fall asleep with the assumption that I'll wake up in my dr (while letting go of control and not wavering) the next morning. but when it doesn't happen eventually, i start to question why, because since time comes from consciousness aka me, it should work in my favor.

I'm honestly so lost right now and i would really appreciate some help because I'm spiraling again. I've known about shifting since 2020 but only realized how ridiculously easy it is after joining tumblr this year and yup, i acknowledge that i am desperate to shift, preferably right now. it's not something i admit to anyone or myself because that's basically continuing to tell a story i don't want to experience (a surefire way to fail), but it is unfortunately the truth as of right now.

thank you for reading, i know this was a lot to get through!! (*^^*)

So pause for a second, because I’m going to tell you something I hope to ingrain in the mind of everyone who sends me an ask—and that you need to remember before reading everything I’m about to say:

YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO SHIFT. The ability is inside you right now. The moment you read this, your mind already knows how to shift. Everyone does.

The moment you accept this, you solve half of your problems.

And then you tell me, "But if I know how to shift, why isn’t the 3D reflecting that?"

Well, yeah. You painted the house, and now you’re sitting there watching the paint dry.

Look, watching the 3D closely and looking for results isn’t a problem for some people. Some can assume, “I’m already in my DR,” open their eyes, and BAM—they’re in their DR.

Some people assume, “I will shift tonight,” and just like that, they shift that night.

Some people let go of their DRs, stop putting them on a pedestal, and they shift.

Some people clutch their DRs close to their heart until their knuckles turn white—and they shift.

It sounds a lot like you’re forcing yourself into a method of applying the Law of Assumption that doesn’t serve you. Why?? If you recognize that your issue is focusing on time and constantly checking the 3D, work around it. Remove time from your shifting journey.

I don’t like assuming I already have something, then checking the 3D and not seeing it there. Hell, I can shift on command, and yet, if I were to lay in bed right now and tell myself, “I’m in my DR,” I guarantee you I wouldn’t shift. Why? Because that doesn’t work for me.

My dude, change the way you affirm. If affirming in the present (“I already shifted”) doesn’t work for you, change it! Say, “I’m going to shift.” If even that hasn’t been working, let go of implementing time into your affirmations.

Change “I’m going to wake up in my DR in the morning” to “I’m going to wake up in my DR at some point because I KNOW I can shift.”

Change “I’m in my DR right now” to “I can’t wait to be in my DR.”

Remove time from your affirmations and assumptions, because that’s clearly the problem here. Instead of trusting that you’ll shift tonight, trust yourself because you already know how to shift. Or trust your mind because it knows how to shift. Trust your awareness because it knows how to shift.

“I fall asleep with the assumption that I'll wake up in my DR (while letting go of control and not wavering) the next morning.”

If this were completely true, you wouldn’t be sending me this ask. You wouldn’t be doubting yourself as much as you just did in everything you typed. Truly letting go means releasing the need to see results in the 3D.

So, take time out of your assumptions. From now on, say “I will shift.” Or say, “I already know how to shift.”

Your brain then goes: “……???….uh….” looking at the 3D all confused “When? We haven't shifted!”

And you tell it, “It doesn’t fucking matter because I’m going to shift eventually.”

Now, let’s say hypothetically, one week passes and you haven’t shifted. One month passes, and you haven’t shifted. Two months pass, and you haven’t shifted.

And then you come back and say, “Clover, why the heck haven’t I shifted yet? It’s been (insert amount of time). You told me to remove time as an expectation, so why haven’t I shifted yet??”

And I’ll smile at you and ask, “So you’ve been counting the days?”

Let me tell you something about letting go—and hypothetically, ignoring the 3D.

Treat your ability to shift like your fortune. You have a fortune sitting in your bank account right now, and you’re rich. Do you think a rich person checks their bank account every hour to confirm they’re still rich?

"Well yeah, Clover, because a rich person’s reality already reflects that, they’re sitting in a mansion with all their riches."

Your fortune, what makes you rich, is your ability to shift. You already know how to shift. Shifting isn’t something you learn how to do, just like breathing isn’t something you learn how to do. Just like chewing isn’t something you learn how to do. It is an integral part of every human being. If you have awareness, then the ability to shift exists within you.

You don’t learn shifting—you learn yourself.

You learn what makes you shift. What makes you manifest easily. What makes you assume easily. What kind of affirmations your subconscious doesn’t argue against. What makes your self-concept skyrocket.

Because everyone is different, everyone shifts differently. What works for Person A might not work for Person B. What works for Person B might not work for Person C, and so on.

Even my reply to you, it might not resonate with you. But that’s not my fault, and it’s not yours. If that's the case, your job is to look elsewhere—and, in the best-case scenario, look internally because that’s where the answers always are.

Let’s go over your fix options because I just yapped a lot:

YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW TO SHIFT.

Remove time from your affirmations and assumptions. Removing time from your shifting process makes it so you have nowhere in the 3D to look.

Stop paying attention to the 3D and pay attention to yourself because what’s going to shift is your awareness, not the damn 3D. Every time you catch yourself thinking, “Oh, but it’s not showing up in the 3D,” remind yourself:

A) You already know how to shift.

B) Shifting is something you can do.

C) It could happen at any moment, so why should anything else matter?

If you were promised a million bucks from a 100% trustworthy source, would you spiral?

One more thing before I wrap this up:

It could be that actively using the Law of Assumption isn’t what works best for you. Maybe you work better with visualizing. Maybe you induce the feeling of being in your DR or being a "master shifter." Maybe subliminals work better for you. There is a world of options out there, and it is completely useless to force yourself to do something that's only bringing frustration in the end. Because there is no singular way to shift. There is no singular way to manifest. And sometimes—for some people—while the Law of Assumption is always true, focusing on it directly isn’t what serves you.

[aelizel]

markhelly nation this is how i think it's gonna go down:

-imo helena is masquerading as helly right now because seeing the kiss woke her up to how lonely she is and she was expecting mark to sweep her off her feet in a passionate love affair but innie!mark is just as repressed as she is so they are repelling each other like two north ends on different, emotionally immature magnets

-now mark is gonna turn up to work, reintigrated and on a mission, and pretty rightfully spurn any advances from her because she's basically a stranger and he doesn't want HER he wants his WIFE. helena is gonna get her heart broken and end the charade like >:( 'fine then, i'll let the violent rebel back out so i don't have to be around you.'

-once helly is back in the fray she's gonna be confused af but soon enough she'll go back to stirring the pot and pissing off milchick, she's gonna get tortured (see: that one waterboarding/drowning scene in the trailers) and somewhere along the line once she's herself again and in danger, the spark between the her and mark will reignite and he's gonna be torn between her and gemma, the way the opening animation alludes to. (evil and fucked up interpretation; only one of them can be saved)

-i don't know after that i'm guessing all kinds of bedlam and then a cliffhanger that makes me scream like a banshee and also cry alone in my room

-whatever state gemma is in right now i don't think that she's going to be able to come back to the world and be with mark. i just don't think this is that kind of story- mark's character arc feels so immersed in grief and tragedy and from an emotional fulfillment stance it wouldn't make sense to bring her back to life at this point. i could be wrong, there's room for my expectations to be subverted, but i feel like her role is this ghostlike figure representative of happier times from the past. and because of Lumon, the life that her and mark shared is no longer possible for them. and whatever happens, it's gonna hurt no matter how much i'm rooting for markhelly because that's simply what i've come to expect from this show

tl;dr fasten seatbelt sign is on get ready for turbulence

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Four Stages of Grief

She’s holding a body, a familiar body, still warm but not breathing, which is fine, because Rio often forgets to breathe. The problem is in every other detail, the way it doesn't move, the slackness of the skin, the way she—it—is dead weight in Agatha's arm

She's holding something impossible, something that cannot exist.

She's holding Rio's corpse.

This one is @dandelions4us' fault

Barring infancy, Agatha Harkness can remember almost every time she’s cried.

Not when they chained her to the stake.

Not when she killed them.

Not when Wanda made her forget who she was.

When her boy died. A few times after sex, which doesn’t count. Maybe once or twice when she was younger and more naive about how the world worked. Multiple times as a way to garner sympathy prior to committing murder, which also doesn't count.

In the time between Nicky's death and this present moment, she can’t remember the last time her eyes have so much as grown damp.

Even knowing it must be a dream, she’s crying now.

She’s holding a body, a familiar body, still warm but not breathing, which is fine, because Rio often forgets to breathe. The problem is in every other detail, the way it doesn't move, the slackness of the skin, the way she—it—is dead weight in Agatha's arm

She's holding something impossible, something that cannot exist.

She's holding Rio's corpse.

"You can't do this to me," she snarls into that blank face, her voice scratching the air like fingernails on dead skin. "You can't die!" She gives the body a few rough shakes, which is a terrible idea, the way the body ragdolls uselessly in her arms will stay with her forever. "It's one of your best features!"

This is a dream, she reminds herself. A stupid, ridiculous dream where Rio dies in her arms like some kind of tragic cliche, the kind of trope that makes her feel nauseous—or maybe that, too, is the crying, she hasn't done it in so long she's forgotten how physically unpleasant it is, how her head pounds and her cheeks ache and her stomach feels like someone's taken it for a boat ride on choppy water.

She just has to find out how to wake up.

She tries pinching herself, or rather, she tries pinching herself again, because her arm is a mess of inflamed red marks. This latest one she gets vicious, digs her nails in like she's got a grudge against her own body and maybe she can write these tears off to pain.

"Come on, come on," she says, but nothing's happening, she's still sitting on the floor of her living room in Westview holding the corpse of a woman she's sure can't die, except that Agatha saw her do it, a knock on her door and she'd opened it only to have Rio stumble into her arms, collapse like a scene from a movie she wouldn't have watched and mumble, "I love you, Ags," right before she did the one thing she absolutely, 100% could not do.

"Doesn't make any sense," Agatha murmurs to herself, and if she had any magic, any magic at all, she would be trying every spell in the book, but it's all gone, stolen by the Scarlet Witch. Still, there's always things she could try, manual spells that rely on ritual and components instead of innate magic, except that to do any of those, she'd have to let go of Rio's body and she can't actually seem to make herself do that. She's got it in her lap, the arm she's been pinching held under it, posed almost the same way Rio had fallen, keeping her propped up and hoping any minute she might jump up and yell 'Surprise!'.

Any minute now.

Minutes tick by and nothing happens, except Agatha's arm grows tired and her cheeks cold. She expects the crying to stop, but it doesn't, only turns pitiful and sniffly, the kind of sound she would have done a very funny mockery of, if it had come from anyone else.

"This is ridiculous," she scolds the corpse, trying not to look directly at it, not to see how empty it is, how its mouth won't curve to smile at her and its eyes won't light in her presence, how there's no semblance of her lover in the dead thing in her arms. "You're Death! You're immortal, you're a fundamental part of the balance, how can you possibly die?"

Agatha is intimately familiar with the stages of grief, she's cycled through them on repeat for centuries. This one's anger. The next—

"…Hey, Rio, look, I know we've…I know we've had our differences. You hunted me for centuries and I…I probably wasn't always that nice to you. Also hid from you with the Darkhold, which I do know you hated." Her free hand moves at an awkward angle, tries to pat down her former lover's hair in a way that only makes it worse. "I'm not sorry about most of that, honestly. But you know, you were right. I...ugh, I really did always still love you, all right?! I tried to stop, but I could never figure out how." And here it is, her desperate attempt at bargaining, at making a kind of peace between them she'd scorned when Rio was alive. "That's what you wanted to hear, isn't it? Isn't it?! So stop this! Wake up already. ...Just come back to me."

The corpse stares, sightless, up at her ceiling and she knows this next stage too, she's wallowed in it for years and years. She clutches Rio's corpse tighter to her body, rocks with it, back and forth and depression is too weak of a word for the swamp of emotion she's sinking into, muck rising above her head and taking the last of the light with it.

These are the stages of grief Agatha Harkness knows.

There's another one she's heard about, but never reached.

Other people might simply accept things. Their fate, the deaths of others, the universe acting on them instead of them acting upon the universe.

Those people were weak.

"No," she starts the cycle from the top, right back to denial. "This can't be real. It can't, it's impossible, she can't die." She finally lowers the corpse to the ground, onto an ugly throw rug Agnes must have chose, then reaches down to pluck a hair from Rio's head, oddly stiff in her fingers. She has bleach and cinnamon, there's a half-remembered bit of ritual she can try—

"Stop," someone says and Agatha's heart almost obeys, because that's a familiar voice, the familiar voice, the voice of a woman she knew couldn't be dead.

"I thought this is what you wanted," And there's a second speaker, unfortunate in its familiarity. Wanda, she thinks, Wanda and Rio together, and her thoughts are going in frantic circles that might be confusion or might be a literal loop, placed there by the most powerful witch in the world.

"It was. I don't want it anymore. Make it stop. Now," Rio says from somewhere, somewhere where she is alive and not the dead, empty thing on Agatha's floor.

"So long as you remember what you promised me," Wanda says, and then the world snaps in half like a—

Like a broom, like the one that's lying on her floor, a proper wooden kind with twisted bristles, the one she'd thrown in the back of a closet ages ago in case she needed a quick escape, the one made from a branch Rio had grown specifically for her—

The agonized, furious sound that escapes Agatha's torn up throat is enough to make even Death and the Scarlet Witch take a step away from her.

Death.

Despite a fury that will burn the world down to avenge the last hour of her life, she can't help but stare at Rio, at how her eyes have moved to avoid Agatha's, how her jaw is held tight and her forehead wrinkled with discomfort, how alive she is regardless of whether or not she's remembered to breathe.

Agatha steps up to her, almost chest to chest.

"Agatha, I'm…" Rio starts, and then the rest of a sentence that would only make her angrier is lost, because Agatha Harkness is kissing Death.

It's a good kiss, too, even if there's salt from her tears in it, a proper kiss like they haven't managed in centuries, a brand of ownership, a claim, a reminder of who Rio belongs to, but most importantly, a way to make absolutely certain that she is not dead weight in Agatha's arms, not slack skin and unblinking eyes, but as alive as Agatha has ever needed her to be.

When she steps back, Rio is reeling, shaking, clutching at her with hands Agatha shoves away.

"Don't," she snarls. "Get. Go. I can't stand to look at you."

"Beloved…" Rio says, caught between her eternal fury at rejection and something that might have been guilt.

"Rio," Agatha says, and the tone in her voice freezes the protests in Death's mouth. "I know what you're thinking. I said something you've always wanted to hear, didn't I, while I was being unknowingly manipulated." Rio's eyes gleam brighter, and Agatha is never going to hear the end of this, so many more centuries of 'I always knew you loved me' to look forward to.

And maybe she won't even hate that, if it means she gets to see Rio smiling and blinking and pursuing her across continents instead of limp and lifeless in her arms. But she isn't going to put up with it today, not after what's been done to her. She means it when she says, "If you want even a chance that what I said will remain true, get out of my sight right now."

Like a candle blown out or a life ended, Rio Vidal is gone.

Slightly reluctantly, Agatha makes herself turn to look at the other participant, the person responsible for making her put on a one-woman show.

"…So," she asks the Scarlet Witch. "Any other ways you'd like to torture me?"

Wanda looks back at her, something unnervingly hollow behind her eyes. "She made me a deal," she says, almost emotionless. "About my boys. This isn't personal, Agatha." That might even be true, but the way the other woman is looking at her now—maybe she should have kept Rio around for defense, except she really couldn't have stood it for a moment longer, her former lover looking at her with an ugly mix of pity, guilt and adoration.

Still, Agatha recognizes the way Wanda is looking at her, like Agatha were something unpleasant on the bottom of her shoe. Like she might do something nasty just because she can. Agatha has looked at lots of other people like that before.

"I'll go away," she promises. "Somewhere you never have to see me again."

"I doubt that," Wanda says, and Agatha has the passing suspicion that the Scarlet Witch has been sticking her nose into a book, the book, her beloved Darkhold. Wanda's sanity was questionable when she was running a prison disguised as a sitcom, but the dark circles under her eyes and the way she doesn't seem to have expressions anymore is concerning. "…Letting you go was part of her bargain, though. I wonder if she'll regret that. I could have made you anything she wanted you to be."

Concerning, but so not her problem. Let the so-called superheroes deal with whatever Wanda was turning into. "Right," Agatha says, edging toward the door, her hand on the knob. "Well. Always lovely to see you, Wanda. Let's never, ever do this again."

Now she has to open the door.

All she has to do is open the door and walk out to freedom. Or at least anywhere but this suffocating house she wants to see burnt to the ground, the one with a nightmare currently standing inside it, watching her with all the expression of a corpse.

Her hand is wrapped firmly around the knob and she can't turn it, because if she does, Rio will stumble through the door, Agatha will catch her and then Death will die in her arms all over aga—

The door blasts itself to pieces around her, the larger chunks of wood somehow flying harmlessly by, though she's covered in a thin layer of wood dust.

Both she and Wanda blink, then Agatha Harkness turns, swishes her coat around herself and strides out as though this is exactly what she intended all along. She keeps her head held high and her shoulders back, ignores how raw her throat is or the redness on her cheeks, a lingering trace of scrubbed away tears. She can't even remember the last time she cried. She certainly hadn't sobbed hysterically while clutching a broom pretending to be the body of the woman she loved as her ex and her greatest enemy looked on

But if that had happened, someone would have to pay.

[incomingalbatross]

Something about the genre of fix-it fics fascinates me. Especially in the fix-its of tragedies that were well-made and necessary to the story being told.

There are the ones that tip the scales just a little - these characters didn't have a chance, but what if I gave them one? What if I made the smallest possible opening for them and let them claw their way through?

There are the ones that just want it to be EASY. What if the characters made this choice, or had this epiphany, or walked through that doorway, and found themselves in a world where choosing the right path was easy.

There are the gleefully contrived and self-indulgent ones, where the day is saved either by Everything Going Right At Once or by one incredibly improbable Good Thing happening - what if someone was there to save them. what if wishes were granted. what if time-travel let someone fix all their regrets and have fun doing it?

There are the even more gleefully transparent ones where the Source Of All Evils tripped and broke his neck before having a chance to hurt everyone. Hey. What if I reached my hand directly into the narrative and took this guy out.

And then there are the soft ones, that don't even bother with an explanation - just showing the characters' lives without tragedy, in a world where they never faced those impossible fates and are just okay.

All of these stories, told over and over and over again, add up to a mountain of fix-its - a mountain all written in response to, all trying to drown out, the singular voice of the Original Story.

And you know what? They don't work.

The original is an old tale, an old song, with only one way it was ever going to end, already over with nothing that can be done to change it. The mountain is made of what-ifs and could-have-beens: the entire mass of them falls short of the monolith of What Happened. You can save a character five thousand times and it doesn't make the Original Story any different.

And yet we keep doing this anyway. Unlike Hadestown, we keep telling the story to make it end differently, doing it again and again as if in the hope that this time it will stick. It never does stick past the telling, but we keep doing it.

We keep carving out little spaces with every fix-it. What if they were okay here. or here. in a world where this happened, or that. What if I made another story and another and another where they were saved. What if I increased the stories where they're okay, even though I can't unmake the Story where they're not?

It's a tribute to the original story, both in the strength of the characters and the strength of their fates. We can't let go of the one, and we can't forget the other... so we keep telling ourselves more stories instead.

[wisteria-lodge]

What do you think of Bellatrix? Would you have liked to explore more dynamics about her?

I *love* unpacking sibling dynamics and toxic relationships, so of course I find Bellatrix fascinating. (Also "Bellatrix Lestrange" might be my favorite name in a series full of very good names. 10/10.)

To me, what's key about Bellatrix is that she's the oldest of the three Black sisters. She could have been written as the indulged, attention-seeking bratty baby... but that would be a less interesting character.

Growing up, I think Narcissa was probably the quiet, passive child. That's her strategy when Voldemort shows up and she's once again living with a powerful, unstable authority figure. (I mean we have no info about what Cygnus Black was like, but he's Walburga Black's younger brother, and I imagine they probably enforced each other's extremism and intensity after their brother got blasted off the tapestry.) Narcissa's strategy is fade to the background, don't react, don't let them see what you're thinking, let them ignore you.

(I also think it's very believable that she went subtly went low contact with the Blacks after she married Lucius. The Malfoys have *always* been much more squeamish about violence, and much more politically moderate. I think Narcissa likes that.)

Andromeda you can take in a couple of different directions, but she was probably the problem child/scapegoat. And if she wasn't before she married Ted, she DEFINITELY was after. She also looks so much like Bellatrix that Harry does a double take, which I think... would have really bugged Bellatrix growing up, and informed their dynamic. Bellatrix sees herself as SO exceptional that she wouldn't want to be compared to anyone... but if she were, then it would be important that any casual comparisons come out in HER favor. (Which can't have been fun for Andromeda.) It's interesting that Voldemort underlines the connection between the two sisters as a way to get under Bellatrix's skin, and it works *really* well. She's got a competitive streak.

Because Bellatrix would have 100% grown up the *Golden Child.* Powerful, driven, beautiful in a striking way. The Daddy's Girl energy is off the charts (and she was probably Aunt Walburga's favorite too.) Bellatrix is described as acting like a queen, which is exactly how she sees herself. She grew up in an echo chamber not only telling her that people like her were special and better... but that she was the most Special one within the Special group.

So she meets Lord Voldemort. He's beautiful, driven, brilliant, power levels off the charts. He's Grindelwald born again (but straight) (probably.) He's not just the Dark Lord, he's a King. He wants to rule the world as an immortal god-king. He tells Bellatrix that this is going to happen, and she believes him.

And like - of course she's into that. But also, seeing yourself as a temporarily embarrassed Immortal Goddess Empress requires such a specific self-concept. You are going to need a delusionally high opinion of yourself... but also enough talent/power/beauty/external validation to carry that idea into adulthood.

(also Rodolphus... he doesn't count. Good Marriage was just another box to check as a young woman so Bellatrix could remain Perfect. The rules are different if you're a Immortal Goddess Empress anyway. Any consort she had would be so far below her own power level, or the power level of her King, that he literally would not matter. But she's not going to have a *kid* with Rodolphus. She's Voldemort's favorite, Rodolphus is not good enough. You sire PRINCES with the KING.)

Voldemort of course would know all this. And we see him have so much fun finding ways to creatively torture Lucius. He's a sadist in general sure, but there's something specifically about bringing pureblood royalty low that he gets REALLY into. He *likes* bringing up the werewolf nephew-in-law and and watching Bellatrix scramble desperately for ground, crying, while the rest of the Death Eaters point and laugh. Until he tells them to cut it out, because he's the only one with enough power to do that.

And then Bellatrix goes back to her room and probably constructs a whole narrative about how that was actually Voldemort protecting her, because she's the most Special, and it's all in good fun really. Because the alternative is having to admit that she's not extraordinary, she's just a punching bag (like Lucius Malfoy.) This is where a lot of her anger and instability come from. Every time she's in a situation where someone else is doing something *more* or *better* ... she lashes out.

In the main timeline of the books this mainly shows up in her dynamic with Narcissa. Bellatrix tries to give orders in Malfoy Manor (I am sure it really annoys her that Voldemort is using her sisters house as his HQ. That isn't how it's supposed to go.) Narcissa is sacrificing Draco for the Dark Lord? Well, Bellatrix would have five sons (hypothetically) and sacrifice them all (happily.) She tries to shift the blame for Department of Mysteries thing 100% onto Lucius, and gets really defensive when Snape implies that he has more emotional intimacy with Voldemort than she does.

But she's still really, really useful, and Voldemort knows this. She is talented, and powerful, and his best enforcer. So he would have so much fun dangling that carrot just out of reach, forever. The prophecy makes such a big deal about Voldemort marking Harry "as his equal," because that's just not a thing he does. BELLATRIX certainly isn't his equal.

(dumbledore though... we can maybe revisit.)

[ihanflwr]

YEA MY BOYFRIEND’S PRETTY COOL - nishimura riki (pt.2)

part 1 is here

IN WHERE; you try to make your ex, riki, jealous. it doesn't work out the best for you.

genre: a tinyyy bit angsty, fluff

warning: a little bit of cursing, suggestiveness, underage drinking.

not proofread! 🙆🏾‍♀️

it's 5:30 AM on a monday, and you can barely keep your eyes open. you lazily shift over to your vanity and rub your eyes.

you usually didn't wear makeup, but you decided to switch it up today. you look down at your uniform, realizing how wrinkly it is. you groan and just wear a hoodie to cover it up.

after finishing your makeup, you get out the house and walk to school. it was usually tradition to walk to school with winter, sunoo, and sometimes woonhak, but today you just needed some space.

that was until you heard a familiar, booming voice and a bunch of footsteps scurrying towards you. you stop in your tracks and sigh.

"noona!" woonhak calls out. you turn around and flash him a fake smile. he walks over with his other friends: myungjae, taesan, leehan, sungho, riwoo.

(more under cut)

"i haven't seen you in forever!" he catches up to you and puts a hand around your shoulder, practically suffocating you.

"you just saw me yesterday," you squeak, pushing him away to catch your breath.

"why'd you end the party so abruptly like that?" riwoo asks, a look of faux dissapointment on his face.

"i was just.. overwhelmed," you mumble. "nothing too serious."

"y/n, we all know you and riki broke up. quit the act," taesan blurts out. your eyes widen. myungjae hits taesan on the back.

"we agreed not to talk about that!" he whisper shouts.

"it's okay, i dont mind," you lie. you actually did mind a lot. why was riki going around telling everyone your business? "who told you we broke up?"

"if you're asking that, you obviously mind," sungho mumbles.

"riki told us," leehan confesses. you nod. of course.

"okay, good to know," you say, speeding up so you can get to school quicker. woonhak calls after you once again but you ignore him, your sole focus on getting to school.

riki was on the school's swim team for some reason, so they were always the first ones at school to practice. he used to always complain to you and say how much he wanted to quit, but his parents never let him.

after a lot of walking, you finally make it to the school's indoor swimming pool. you never realized how hot the guys on the swim team were. they all had somewhat toned bodies, making you want to faint right then and there.

but no, you had a mission to complete.

usually, a group of 3 girls or so would sit on the bleachers and just watch the swim team practice just so they could ogle over their muscles. you look over at the girls and spot a familiar face.

rei.

has ni-ki really moved on that quickly? you bite your lip angrily. however, that's not the point. you approach the team captain, anton, and tap him on the shoulder.

"what's up?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. it kinda annoyed you how quiet he was sometimes.

(its js for the plot i love him i swear😭)

"do you think i could talk to riki real quick?" you ask and he stares at you hesitantly.

"we're kinda in the middle of something right now.." he scratches the back of his neck.

"please. its an emergency."

"uhm--"

"don't make me beg. i just need to talk to him for like two seconds." you urge, holding up two fingers. he sighs and almost rolls his eyes, blowing his whistle.

"riki, y/n needs to talk to you." anton then turns to look at you. "if he's gone for too long, my coach will kill me. make it quick."

you nod and look over at ni-ki who dries himself off with a towel and slips on a t-shirt. he walks over to you, his hair still wet. you must admit, he looks so good right now. he gestures at a door and you guys walk out. he immediately lets out a yelp at the cold air.

he crosses his arms in an attempt to warm himself up. "hey."

"hi.." you say awkwardly. he doesn't make eye contact with you. honestly, you lowkey forgot what you even wanted to talk about, so you just start stalling.

"have you already moved on?" you ask. riki raises an eyebrow and glares at you. he shakes he head.

"no, but why do you care?" he's shivering slightly.

"i don't," here you go with the lying again.

"why'd you block me?" he asks abruptly.

"i thought it would be the best if i didn't talk to you," you say quietly.

"you're talking to me right now," he pokes his cheek with his tongue.

"do you like rei?" you ask, and you immediately regret it. he groans.

"you're seriously still going on about this?" he hated how stubborn you were.

"is she the reason we broke up?" you're practically interrogating him at this point.

"no, we broke up because you act like this," he snaps. you finally meet his eyes. now there's just an awkward silence that washes on you two.

anton pops his head outside and is also visibly uncomfortable from how cold it is.

"hurry up before i get scolded by my coach," he warns. without further notice, ni-ki walks back inside without even saying a word. anton looks at you worriedly but doesn't question it, heading back inside as well.

you gulp and slowly turn around, heading to the main campus. you just embarassed yourself even more.

5th period

your head is resting on your arms as you look out the window. your teacher is yapping about ancient China, and his voice is annoyingly monotone.

the way the trees sway in the wind is so peaceful, you could fall asleep. your eyes slowly start to shut. your seatmate, riki, nudges you but you ignore it.

"y/n, wanna tell me what dynasty started foot binding?" your teacher demands. riki whispers the answer in your ear.

"tang," you mumble without confidence, but suprisingly, you were correct. your teacher sighs.

"good job, but make sure you're paying attention," he mumbles. you nod. he goes back to yapping and you look over at riki. you want to thank him but remember you're supposed to be mad at him right now, so you put your focus back to the front of the room.

after what feels like hours, the bell finally rings, dismissing everyone to go to lunch. everyone scurries out of their desks and basically sprints over to the cafeteria. you search the classroom for winter and she grins, interlocking fingers with you.

“he still has feelings for you,” she says with a cheeky smirk. you tilt your head at her and you two begin walking to the cafeteria.

“why, because he gave me the answer..?” you raise an eyebrow.

“no, he was staring so hard at you while you were taking a nap!” she squeals. you roll your eyes.

“did you forget the plan? i need to make him jealous first before i consider other factors.”

“you’re actually about to listen to sunoo?” her eyes widen. “shit, okay then.”

at lunch, you, winter, woonhak and his friends sat around the table eating and gossiping. sunoo was sitting with riki and his friends.

“don’t you think you’re being too harsh?” sungho asks.

“no, she’s being reasonable,” taesan retorts. “if i were her, i would do worse.”

“guys, i’m over it now. chill.” you say, taking a bite out of your beef onigiri. everyone at the table side eyes you. “what?”

“you are NOT over him.” winter snorts.

“shut up,” you gently smack her. “is that 7-11 down the street still hiring?” winter looks at you and smirks.

“uh yeah, why?” riwoo asks. winter turns to riwoo and grins.

“she’s trying to make riki jealous, and apparently a lot of hot guys work at the 7-11.” says winter.

“i could’ve said that myself but okay,” you mumble.

“oh, i work there,” leehan says casually, “just fake date me.” you almost choke on your food. you wipe some sauce off your lips and stare at leehan.

“huh?”

“you don’t have to if you don’t want to, obviously,” he chuckles nervously.

“you’re a bit too eager,” myungjae teases, causing him to get flicked on the forehead by leehan.

“n-no, i’ll do it!” jesus christ, why were you stuttering so hard. leehan does that charming smile and nods.

“i’ll put in a good word for you,” he says.

“thanks..” you awkwardly look back down at your food. everyone at the table exchanges glances with each other.

“anyways!” woonhak exclaims. “who’s excited for our field trip to the beach?!” he starts to clap.

“woonhaks, that’s in two months,” taesan replies.

“am i not allowed to be excited?” woonhak shouts. you have to plug your ears from how loud he is.

“no, you’re not.” taesan says.

“y’all are so mean to my son,” myungjae whines, hugging woonhak.

“exactly!” woonhak pouts. you were able to drown out all the bickering and conversations with just your thoughts. you can’t stop thinking about leehan. you shake your head. you can’t fall for one of your best friends. plus, you never liked him before, why are you crushing on him all the sudden? winter notices you tweaking out and chuckles.

“you good?” she pats your back. you nod and go back to silently munching on your lunch.

after school

thanks to the good word leehan put in for you, you were able to immediately start working.

the whole day, you were so sleepy. you groggily scan the customer's items, your eyes threatning to shut. leehan comes behind you and pats your back.

"i can take over for now, hm?" he suggests, rubbing your back. he was alresdy taking this fake dating thing so seriously.

just as you were about to agree, the bell chimes, meaning a customer walked in the store. you look over and see RIKI AND REI. you rub your temples.

"is everything okay?" he asks, concerned.

"i can handle it for now. just, stay here with me." you say, looking up at him. he nods, still a bit confused.

you finish scanning the customer's items and you watch closely as riki and rei choose snacks for each other, gigling. you narrow your eyes.

"so that's why you wanted to me stay here?" leehan asks and chuckles. you nod.

after a while, they finally approach the cash register and place their stuff. just as rei is ahout to pull out her wallet, ni-ki already does it.

"stop that, i can pay for myself," rei pouts and hands you her card. riki shakes his head and also hands you his card.

"i'll pay, its fine."

"noo! its the least i can doo~" she whines.

"don't worry about it, you can pay me ba--"

"shut the fuck up and make up your mind already!" you snap. their eyes widen, and the air is thick. leehan gently pushes you away and bows.

"sorry about that," he laughs nervously, taking ni-ki's card and handing rei's card back to her.

after ringing them up and they leave the store, leehan turns to you.

"are you planning on already getting yourself fired?" he asks calmly. how was he being so gentle with you after you just caused a scene?

"i'm sorry.." you look down. he can tell you're starting to get upset and he gets closer to you. he hugs you, patting your head.

"it's okay, the shift is almost over," he reassures you. you two didn't even realize woonhak snickering and snapping pictures of you guys. leehan notices him and he gasps.

"when did you get here?" you quickly escape from leehan's grasp, standing as far away from him as you can.

"how did you guys not see me?" he laughs obnoxiously. you grab a random item and throw it him, causing him to let out an "ouch!".

"if you're not gonna buy anything, get out," leehan says trying to sound stern, but he can't hold back his smile.

"will y'all give me a discount?" he asks, rubbing his hands together.

"hell nah, get out." you say, your face still burning up.

"okay, okay.." he leaves the store. you and leehan lock eyes and burst out laughing.

after taking the bus home, you lay down on your bed (you changed into fresh pjs dw) and immediately text leehan.

fishdaddy: good job at work today!

y/n: i actually did horrible but thx anyways☹️🩷

fishdaddy: noo its great for your first time!

fishdaddy: you'll get better with more practice

y/n: why thank you

fishdaddy: np

fishdaddy: wanna walk with me and my friends to school tmrw?

y/n: sure i'll check in with winter

fishdaddy: okay!

you start to kick your feet in excitement before remembering it's all fake. you sigh and text winter.

y/n: is it okay if i walk with leehan and in his friendd in the morning

wifey: ofc! i can walk with giselle

y/n: okay great!!

wifey: have fun ;)

wifey: actually dont have TOO much fun 😶

y/n: 😨

~ part 3 will arive shortly ~

[rahuratna]

Synopsis: You teach Astarion a spell that allows him to speak to animals ... and unleash chaos. From building a bat army, to coaching spiders on how to have sex, there's certainly never a dull moment when it comes to your beloved.

[Astarion x Tav/Reader]

Genres: Romance, humour, fluff, crack.

Warnings: Sexual humour.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

"I've got to hand it to you, darling. You make conversing with common beasts look ever so engaging."

You glanced over at Astarion and smiled. He had volunteered to accompany you on today's hunt, probably to stretch his legs and enjoy the thrill of the chase.

As nonchalant and uncaring as he always seemed, you'd noticed that he'd donned a rakish hunting cap over his curls and exchanged his regular clothing for a leather armour ensemble. Let it never be said that Astarion didn't get into the spirit of things.

Dusting off your knees, you rose to your feet.

"It's ... not always as simple as casting a spell. Each species has its own unique behaviour, traits and dialects. You've got to have a fair understanding of what makes them tick. Offend a squirrel and it may lead you to an owlbear cave instead of buried treasure."

He groaned and clicked his tongue.

"Sounds like a lot of work, if you ask me. I've only ever learned the spells and cantrips that get me out of tough spots."

Considering those words, you watched the small starling you'd recruited flit away through the treetops, ready to begin scouting your path ahead after the promise of some delectable insects.

You turned back to Astarion.

"Now that I think about it, I have heard tales of vampires being able to command beasts."

His expression soured and he waved a hand dismissively.

"Oh, that's plain old domination. All the beasts of the soil and air, at your command. Ravening wolves, infected with bloodlust, ready to tear out your enemies' throats."

Pausing, he shot you a quick look before turning away.

"It's nothing like what you do. You actually ... speak to them. Understand them. You don't try to control them, or treat them with ... cruelty."

Without waiting for your reply, he strode forward through the trees, in the wake of the starling. Staring after him, you felt a telltale surge of tenderness rise in your chest, the kind that you'd been feeling increasingly often in his presence.

Brow furrowing slightly, you hurried after him.

When you did manage to catch up, his equanimity seemed to be restored. Astarion's moods, once you knew him well enough, were positively mercurial.

He slowed down and walked at your side, touch occasionally grazing your wrist. You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again.

After a few more minutes, you felt his little finger curl briefly around yours, giving a small tug.

"What's got you in such a brown study?"

You turned to him, expression serious.

"Well, I was thinking ... would you like me to teach you the spell for speaking to animals?"

He stopped dead, blinking in surprise.

"Well ... I certainly wouldn't mind. But what's this in aid of? You and Halsin have far more mastery over the skill than I do."

"It doesn't have to be for a specific purpose. Just for you to see what it feels like. You can practice on your own after I teach you the rudiments. And maybe ... then we can speak to animals together?"

You watched him, taking in his reaction.

Astarion was an exceptionally handsome man, there was no denying it. Every facial expression and gesture was an extension of his deadly charm and effortless magnetism.

It was when he looked at you like this, however, gaze trusting and guileless, hesitant, a fleeting radiance in his smile, that your heart raced and you knew, with certainty, that you'd made the right call.

"Hm. I suppose ... I'd like that. Yes. Who knows what I could achieve with a skill like that?"

His tone was flippant, cheerful, but you saw the way his eyes slid away from you, the way the tips of his ears twitched. He looked almost ... bashful.

You placed a handle gently on his arm before resuming your tracking of the starling.

"Good. I think you'd be quite talented at it."

Considering Astarion's usual attitude to such matters, you're surprised by how seriously he takes the matter of learning the simple spell.

He appears one evening at your tent, when most of your other companions have turned in for the night. It had been a fairly relaxed day, one focused on receiving deliveries of goods at camp and making sure that stores of valuable items and potions were replenished.

Astarion seats himself before you, hands placed on his knees, scarlet eyes alert and trained on you.

"Well, darling, here I am, at your disposal. It's time to don the robe of spellmaster and educate little old me."

You grinned back at him.

"Please don't let Gale hear you call me spellmaster."

"Why? It might do him a world of good."

"Right before he comes at me with a certified board exam to prove my credentials. Now, raise your hands. Like this. Perfect. I'll teach you the basic incantation first, then we'll focus on channeling the Weave."

He is a remarkably quick study. His eyes never leave your hands, your lips, your eyes, your gestures as you take him through the process. It's hard not to feel somewhat flustered by such rapt attention. You don't fancy yourself the best teacher, but you do try, for his sake.

When you feel that he's mastered the basics, you clap your hands together and rise.

"Right! It's time to put your skills to the test."

He arches an eyebrow.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Cast the spell on yourself."

He complies, eyes closing briefly, the thrum of magical power matching yours as you also speak the words and feel the slow shift in your mind. Astarion flexes his fingers, nodding slowly.

"I think I've managed it. So, where do we take the lesson from here?"

Instead of replying, you whistle loudly. Astarion sits bolt upright as the eager patter of paws approaches your tent. Scratch noses his way in, tail wagging furiously as he spots both you and Astrion waiting for him.

"Friend! And Fang Friend! Both here! What are you doing? Do you have something for Scratch? Are you doing magic like wizards?"

You watch in silent fondness as Astarion's eyes grow wider and he leans toward Scratch as if he cannot believe what he hears. His voice is low, hesitant.

"Scratch? I can ... hear you speak now. This feels ... rather odd."

The white-furred head whips in Astarion's direction and Scratch's tail stills for a minute.

"Fang Friend? You can hear me?"

Clearing his throat, Astarion seems to regain some of his composure. He offers Scratch a charming, if superior smile.

"Of course. I've just learned the appropriate spell, thanks to my sweet dove here. So, this is your voice. It does seem ... nice, I suppose."

"Oh, Fang Friend!"

Without further ado, Scratch launches himself at Astarion who lets out a decidedly undignified squawk at his actions.

"Wait! Stop at once! What do you think you're ... why are you slobbering all over ... excuse me!"

"Fang Friend learned to speak, just for me! For Scratch! Oh, great day! Happy day! Fang Friend is the best!"

"I certainly did not learn the spell just for you, you mangy little - "

Astarion pauses, one hand braced on Scratch's probing snout, as your laughter fills the tent. The dog instantly switches his attention to you, pouncing on you in delight.

"Thank you for teaching Fang Friend!"

"It's always a pleasure, Scratch."

Cradling his soft flank against you, you scrub at his belly, causing him to roll over in blissful abandon. Glancing up, you see Astarion watching you with that rare warmth, the kind that kindles his eyes to the soft hue of a sunrise over the sleeping forest.

Of course, it isn't long before Astarion's new knowledge starts to be employed in ... unique and innovative ways. You'd expected it, naturally, but he still manages to surprise, vex and amuse you at every turn.

One one such morning, you turn your tent and its contents upside down searching for your missing boot. Brow creasing in consternation (because you just knew it had been beside your bedroll the night before) you step outside, scanning the ground.

And spot Scratch, standing a few paces away, your boot clasped in his teeth. You frown, puzzled. He's never done that before.

"Scratch? May I have my boot back?"

Instead of complying with his usual obedience, he trots off, pausing at the edge of the clearing to ensure that you follow him. When he is certain that you're on his trail, he darts off into the trees.

Muttering under your breath, you push your feet into the spare pair of sandals you own, wondering what on earth had gotten into the canine.

You catch glimpses of him up ahead on the forest path, and he runs off each time you get close, leading you to something.

Eventually, you hear the rush of water up ahead. It must be the small waterfall where you sometimes go to bathe for a touch more privacy. Stepping out of the foliage, you stop dead in your tracks at the sight which awaits you.

Scratch has paused before the edge of the water, tail wagging happily now that he'd completed his task of luring you out here. Under Astarion's direction of course. That much is obvious.

Lying shirtless and seductively posed on his elbows, the vampire in question regards you with a coy smile from his vantage point on a rock. His pale skin glistens with water, the rivulets running tantalizingly over sculpted pectorals and the ridges of his taut abdomen.

"Oh, look who it is, Scratch. Our darling who'd been far too busy yesterday evening to spend time with us. Isn't it lovely that they're here?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Really, Astarion?"

He sits up, the razor-tipped smile exhibiting no remorse whatsoever.

"Well, you're here now, aren't you? Climb up here. The view is quite splendid."

"We have important things to accomplish today, you know."

"And Shadowheart won't be awake for another half hour. We both know that. Now hush and get up here."

Reluctantly, you clamber up beside him, Scratch following you, your boot still clutched safely between his jaws. Astarion insistently pats the rock surface where he wants you to sit, and you do, your side pressed against his rather damp one.

In spite of his provocative pose, you know that he simply wants companionship, the sweet affection only you can grant him. That much had been established during your conversation in camp, that night after encountering the drow merchant.

He turns to you, nose inches from your cheek, taking you in. You laugh and flush slightly under his intense scrutiny.

"Stop staring."

"I can't."

His voice is low, rough-edged with sincere affection. You turn your head and your lips slot perfectly against his. He draws you in, one arm curled around your waist, kissing you tenderly, softly.

The moment is broken when a furry head butts in between your forms and Scratch drops your boot into your lap.

"Fang Friend said you'd be happy, and you are!"

You lean across and pinch Astarion's side.

"Fang Friend had better watch himself. Abusing the power I've given him already is a risky business."

Surprisingly, Astarion didn't seem to mind Scratch's intrusion. His fingers drift down behind the dog's ears absently, his gaze taking in the waterfall, the sun over the treetops, you.

You decided that the little distraction was worth it, when he looked like this, like an ordinary man enjoying the morning air, the wind tousling his unruly curls, the corners of his eyes and mouth upturned in relaxed amusement.

Speaking with animals certainly had its merits.

The next time he makes use of his newfound power, it's obvious that he's been practicing without your knowledge in order to surprise you.

A convoy of Absolute cultists is making its way towards the main encampment, caravans laden with valuable supplies throwing up a cloud of dust from the road, heavily guarded on all sides.

Squinting out from your vantage point on a rise nearby, you bite your lip. You are heavily outnumbered, and the guards look like no slouches. Attacking head on would be out of the question.

Lae'zel shifts restlessly beside you, but she can clearly tell when strategy takes precedence over brawn. Astarion taps his fingers against the boulder you are crouched behind before a sly smile tugs at his lips.

He glances over at you and signals that he'd like to handle the distraction. You pause, uncertain, but he seems sure of himself, and Astarion never takes unnecessary risks in such perilous situations. Nodding, you watch as he slips into the shadows.

The caravan trundles along, undisturbed, until you begin to hear exclamations at the rear and front. Raising your head over the boulder for a quick look, you can make out many small, dark, darting shapes, pouring in a steady stream from the nearby trees.

They wheel, flap, buffet their wings against the faces of the guards who swing their weapons in wild arcs and hit nothing. Shadowheart turns to you, eyebrows raised.

"Those are bats."

Bats?

But wasn't that-

You had no further time to process that thought, because you'd spotted Astarion. The increasingly dense flock of generally nocturnal creatures had surrounded the entire caravan, preventing his passage from reaching the guards' attention. He cut the lines holding the wagons together, darting back out of sight as the heavy vehicles teetered and pitched backward, rolling down the hill towards the water below.

Shouts and desperate cries from the guards and merchants now reached your ears. They scrambled and tripped, swiping at the bats, trying to stop the passage of the errant wagons.

It was all in vain.

Astarion slipped away, into the shade of the trees once more, while Shadowheart readied the appropriate incantation. She focused, drawing on the weave, freezing the water just below the surface of the river so that the caravans would be submerged, but not so far down as to be unrecoverable.

As the team on the road below stamped, swore and made arrangements to call in assistance from the encampment to help them salavge the goods, bats streamed into the area behind the boulder where your party still remained hidden.

Dark wings took on a more corporeal form, and suddenly, Astarion was with you again. He smirked at your collective expressions.

Keeping your voice low, you hissed incredulously at him.

"How did you manage that? I thought ... that only - "

He completed your sentence, smug.

"That only full vampires could conjure animals like this? You'd be right, sweetheart. I haven't conjured any of these fine fellows."

Lae'zel was now looking supremely confused.

"But they're clearly following your lead, elf."

"Well, that's only because I've been getting to know them quite thoroughly over the past few weeks."

Now you were truly stumped.

"Getting ... to know them?"

"Why, yes! They inhabit a cave nearby. Granted, I've had to wade through my fair share of bat droppings, but it was certainly worth it."

He pointed to the bats that had perched on his shoulders and on the nearby branches.

"This is Balthazar, that's Bella and here's Brissinger. They were the first to approach me. And over here is Hilda, their second cousin, once removed. Here's Gerald, Jarvis and Phillip. They're triplets, would you believe. And this one is Laila. She's awfully shy, but she's partial to berries."

A silence followed this introduction. You coughed slightly.

"Astarion ... did you ... get to know each and every one of these bats? You befriended them?"

"But of course! Isn't that a lot better than commanding them to do what I want? We're all happy acquaintances and they'll help when we're in a pinch."

Shadowheart was staring at him a little less politely.

"And you keep telling me that I'm touched in the head."

Lae'zel snorted.

"Seems like you've found a work-around for vampire powers. Useful, if somewhat laborious."

She peered down towards the road, where the remaining Cultists were slowly trekking further away towards the encampment to obtain the help they'd been speaking about. The smaller guard that remained would be easily dealt with. She patted her sword and grinned.

"We can take them. Let's move."

As she descended the slope, Shadowheart following closely, you turned abruptly to Astarion, gripped him by the collar and pulled him into a swift kiss. One of the bats gave what was, unmistakably, a hoot.

Parting with him, you spied his pleased, if confused expression.

"What was that for, my sweet?"

"For being marvelous."

"Ha! Just wait until you see my bat cave."

After most battles, Astarion could generally be found at his tent, having cleaned up and tended his wounds. It was during these more relaxed evening hours that he would bring out his special spark lantern, burning brightly with a near-blue flame, to illuminate the repairs he effected to his clothes and armour.

Even though you'd assured him that you could afford to replace damaged items, he insisted on darning the torn edges of cloth, mending the split segments of leather, fixing metal plates into position. The activity seemed to provide him some means of relaxation.

When you sought him out, you certainly weren't expecting him to have company. And yet, there it was.

The sound of voices, engaged in what seemed to be a most riveting conversation.

"Well, how very rude of them!"

That was Astarion's voice. The reedy-sounding answer caused you some confusion. You didn't recognise the speaker. 

"Rude! Rude! Rude humans!"

"But you must have done something about it, surely?"

"Pecked holes in all her pumpkins, I did."

"You didn't! How wicked!"

A raucous laugh sounded from within his tent. You sidled closer, now infinitely curious. Astarion was speaking again, tone low and confidential.

"You know, I heard from Titchwittle that she doesn't even maintain the thatching on her roof. All kinds of vermin nesting in there."

"Ooh, he's right! He's right! We won't go near it! It's crawling with nasty things."

"I suspected so. I saw her haggling the life out of the vendors at the market, so one would think her husband's managed to save up enough by now to mend things, but there we go."

"Have you been on any roofs? Ingis said he saw you! Saw you! Sneaking at night!"

"Well, how very perceptive of him. As a matter of fact, we did raid an arms dealer last week. He must have seen me then."

"He did! Ingis did! Said your hair looked like a wet cat's fur in the rain, he did."

Astarion gasped, scandalized.

"He said what?"

"Wet cat! Wet cat!"

"Oh, I'll give Ingis a piece of my mind when I see him next. Who is he to judge? His feathers look as healthy as a zombie's scalp."

Unable to resist the burning curiosity, you pushed the flap of Astarion's tent aside.

There he was, surrounded by the paraphernalia of his sewing kit, the fluorescent light from the lamp illuminating his pale features and the ... companion he was clearly enjoying a fruitful gossip session with.

A raven.

It was perched on a nearby wooden stand, eyes bright and watchful. Astarion looked up at you as you entered, expression mildly outraged.

"Darling, did you hear that? Can you believe someone would call me anything other than beautiful?"

Perhaps, the most memorable occasion during which Astarion had put his animal speaking ability to use had been the time he'd attempted to tutor the spiders.

On the subject of how to have sex.

You'd returned from the city one evening, having purchased some supplies, expecting a hearty meal to sate your ravenous appetite.

What you found instead was a cooling cook pot and Gale hunched over in despair, begging Astarion to stop, please stop, for the love of all things good in the world and didn't he even care about Gale's appetite?

Hands on hips, aspect stern, Astarion was firmly ignoring the wizard's pleas. He rapped the stick he held against one palm.

"Gale, stop your whinging. Just look at them. Such poor form! No finesse, no stamina, a series of anaemic in-and-outs and they're done! How atrocious! This isn't acceptable."

"They're spiders, for the love of - "

"You there! That isn't how you hold your mate! Wrap your legs around her further. Yes, that's it. Now reach. Yesssss. You can do it. Put your back into it, fellow."

"Oh Gods, please, someone make it stop - "

"And you! Do you think I can't see exactly what you're doing? Keep your fangs away from him until he's done. Hells, control yourself. Bite off his head and his pedipalps won't reach your opening, I can tell you that."

Gale's haunted gaze met yours and he hurried over. You tried your best to control your features as he grabbed you by the elbows to steady himself.

"Can you ... do something about this? He's got these... spiders lined up over here doing mating drills."

Patting Gale's arm reassuringly, you made your way over to where Astarion was watching his eight-legged disciples with a critical eye.

He spotted you and beamed, walking over to plant a sweet, searing kiss on your lips. One the spiders couples, having witnessed this, promptly went into overdrive. Astarion tutted fondly at them before wrapping his arm around your waist and gesturing to the spiders arranged before you in ... various stages of copulation.

"I saw a few of them going at it in the woods and darling, I was appalled. No wonder their population is dwindling. Their courtship rituals and mating strategies are deplorable."

"I'm certainly not complaining," muttered Gale, who was busying himself with the stew again to blot out the sight of the writhing arachnids.

You nodded earnestly.

"Oh, I understand. Without balance, an ecosystem cannot function."

Behind you, Gale whipped around, ladle pointing at you accusingly.

"Gods, you're no better than he is."

Astarion took you by the hand and led you closer.

"And now, my sweet, it's time to lavish these ignorant souls with your own knowledge. Go on, tell this one here how it's done."

You knelt and observed the attempts of the much smaller male, scrambling to find purchase on his chosen mate's back. Shaking your head, you raised a hand.

"Now, listen here. Sometimes roles must be reversed during mating. Sometimes one partner must be dominant, and other times, they should switch. Try a new position, maybe with you behind and under, instead of on top. That way, your pedipalps can reach her better."

Astarion clapped his hands, expression positively ecstatic.

"Oh, did you hear that, students? That's my darling for you! Always so perceptive. She knows exactly how to undulate her sweet waist when she's being dominant too - "

Gale had well and truly had enough. He strode over to the two of you, energy crackling along one finger as he pointed it at you like a weapon.

"I'm going to count to three. And this class had better be dismissed by the time I'm done."

Astarion hurriedly scattered his ardent pupils, calling after them.

"Same time next week. But we'll meet in the forest. Wouldn't want any of you getting singed by a certain someone while you're in the throes -"

"Astarion."

"There. They're gone. Not a single trace of them, Gale."

Gallantly offering you his elbow, Astarion escorted you to your tent with an air of wounded dignity. As soon as Gale was out sight, you both collapsed, wheezing with laughter.

"Did you see his - "

"Oh hells, his face."

"And the way he looked when those two spiders really started going at it - "

"Shhhh, he's making stew. And I'm starving. Don't distract him any more!"

Astarion straightened and swayed a little from side to side, expression playfully miffed.

"My treasure, all that teaching has worked up an appetite in me too."

"Come here."

You wrapped your arms around him, cradling him against you. It had been a long day, and you hadn't been with him for most of it. You did miss him, even though you'd only been away for such a relatively short time.

Burying your nose into his shoulder, you spoke, voice slightly muffled.

"First bats, then ravens, and now spiders?"

"I'm a vampire, darling. I must cultivate a certain ... aesthetic."

He bit down gently on the side of your neck, fangs scraping across the surface of the skin.

"But before I drink my fill, you need to eat. As hungry as I am, I can hear your stomach rumbling loud and clear."

You leaned back and regarded him mischievously. 

"Not as hungry as some of your pupils, it seems."

"Oh, they're hungry enough to eat each other, my love. And not in the nice way, either."

The corner of his mouth curved as you laughed, that devastating smile now filled with a warmth that had been glaringly absent when you'd first known him.

How far you both had come, how much faith you'd placed in this blossoming love that somehow continued to raise its delicate head through the crushing weight of peril and conflict.

As with all his endeavours, Astarion had taken your gift and made it his own. Be it gregarious ravens, or lustful spiders, you knew that nature would answer Astarion's call.

How could it not?

It had watched him struggle, despair, overcome and flourish, and if your years in the wild had taught you anything, it was that nature rewarded its most glorious survivors.

[bugisastranger]

a/n: prompt once again from @scealaiscoite | i haven't written for steve rogers (or watched any of his movies) since like 2021 so this is all off memory. third installment of my valentine's day series <3

"you're telling me you really have nowhere better to be than here today?"

steve says as the elevator doors open, taking a few steps forward. he turns, about to reach for the button, when he realizes you're going to the same floor.

"you're here, too. i don't wanna hear it."

"yeah, well.. i'm still figuring all this out," steve says, his smirk barely noticeable. he leans against the wall of the elevator, which suddenly feels smaller than you'd remembered.

"is that what you've been doing?" you couldn't remember the last time steve mentioned seeing someone, if he ever had.

"yes."

you hum in response, letting his answer settle into the silence. and then you think... "i could teach you." that's not the right thing to say, is it? "sorry, i meant—i meant that i could be like a consultant. help you out. plenty of girls must be fawning over captain america."

steve scoffs. "that's the problem, though. isn't it? i'm just a guy." the elevator doors open with a ding and he waits for you to exit first. "i appreciate the offer."

he walks down the hallway beside you, and you start to realize this is the most you've ever really talked to steve about himself. "i'm sure someone can look past the red, white, and blue."

"can you?" he counters, holding open the glass door for you. it's a serious question, but he asks it like he already knows the answer—that you can't.

"sure, i can."

steve stops, grabbing your arm lightly to make you look up at him. "okay. what do you see?" you see that his hair is blonder than you remember. you see all the details in his eyes, the different shades of blue.

"i see a guy," you say. he drops his hand from your arm, smiling and looking to the side.

"touché."

you remember what you're here for, to work. but steve seems stuck in this conversation, so you are too. it's not unfamiliar that you're so drawn to him, but there's something more today, like he's magnetic. "what do you see in me?"

there's an almost awkward silence as he looks at you, almost studying your features. it's clear that he's thinking something, that he has a real answer, but he says, "a romance consultant."

"wow. that's all?" you chuckle, leaning against the wall.

"no, i..." he starts. his hands move from his pockets up to his hips, and it seems like he's trying to decide whether or not to continue. then, he catches your eyes, and that seems to make the decision for him. "i see someone too good to be spending valentine's day alone."

"well, you're here. i'm not exactly alone."

"you know that's not what i meant."

"i know. i'm just saying, i don't have to be. alone, i mean."

"i don't have flowers or anything." it almost sounds like an apology, like he should've foreseen this, even if there was no way to.

"that's okay. your company is enough."

"you should be getting flowers." he takes a step closer. "and chocolate." and he takes another step. "and... i don't know, what do people do on valentine's day? go to dinner? get jewelry?"

"they kiss."

"is that what you want?"

you nod, and steve throws caution to the wind. before you can blink, one of his hands is on your waist, the other holding the side of your head. he doesn't give you an opportunity to reconsider, his lips are pressed against yours like he's been waiting a lifetime for this moment. when he pulls away, it feels like you'd been kissing for ages, but then it feels like you'd only been kissing for seconds. his breathing is labored, and you can see red in his cheeks.

"was that your first kiss since 1945?"

"i'm not answering that."

"oh, come on," you pester, bringing your hand up to the side of his face, which seems to do the trick.

"yes."

"really?"

"yes, really."

"it didn't seem like it."

"well, i guess if you put enough heart into something you can fool anyone." his words make your heart practically soar out of your chest. 'if you put enough heart into something'. you wonder if he planned for that to sound the way it did. you could feel his passion in the kiss, but to hear him imply that it actually means something to him is something else entirely.

"although, now that you mention it... maybe i could tell. kiss me again?"

"i will, but that is so corny."