#she will not learn to enjoy scritches

[fbwzoo]

So I think we've definitely come to the conclusion that Gabby is just....a normal dwarf hamster that prefers not to be handled, and the previous owners persisted in trying to handle her & not listening. She's like 30g and half the size of my small hand, no wonder she doesn't want to be grabbed or held! Of course she bit you!

The last few days, she comes out of her burrows when she hears someone in the room & scrabbles at the doors. Unfortunately that also means she decided to CLIMB halfway up one door 💀 Girl please stop that jfc

But she'll climb out onto offered arms and wander around on us with just light exploring nibbles. She is very curious & interested & we'll have to see about setting up a playpen for her. I offered her a coconut chip today when she came out on my arms, but she wouldn't take it until I let her climb back into her cage, then turned around to demand it, then yeeted off to a corner to eat it.

This is an excellent relationship as far as Jack & I are concerned! She is a baby and we love her.

[beyondthisdarkhouse]

The first year I had Emily, I learned to put my finger in front of her nose every few pets. If she moved to touch her nose to my finger, I could pet her a little bit more. If she stayed absolutely still, she'd bite me within the next few pets.

It took a long time for her to be willing to share softer signs of discomfort, like lashing her tail or making noise, before she escalated into attacking my hand.

Or maybe not "willing" so much as... literally able? I might be reading too much into it, but I got Emily as a year-old cat who'd been living on the streets for part of her life, when I was at the underemployed end of the grad school program that never ended, a therapist with nobody to therapize, so I ended up looking at her as a survivor of trauma and bringing therapeutic perspectives and techniques to the table. Some of which are about how we have to actually learn to understand and recognize our own internal states, especially because when we're living in fight-or-flight, that goes way down on our brains' priority lists most of the time.

So it might have taken her a while to be able to understand that petting felt nice but also overstimulating, so while she could enjoy it, it also caused that buildup of discomfort, and she could do something about it that wasn't biting.

All of which is just the context necessary for me to say, today she crawled into my lap and rested her chin in my palm, and demanded via headbutts that I just keep continuously scritching her jaw, for 20 minutes straight.

We've come a long way, babygirl.

[the-kaedageist]

congrats on hitting your follower milestone!! for a CR short fic prompt, how about shadowgast where essek is learning to coexist with caleb's cats? :)

I'm emerging from the abyss to answer this prompt 11 months later, but I hope you enjoy! I also believe someone else had Caleb having a cat named Gretchen before me and my brain borrowed it from someone; apologies, it just fit so well.

“Ah,” says Caleb when Essek arrives for their weekly meeting. “Since you were here last, I have acquired another housemate.”

This feels like a somewhat alarming statement. Thankfully, the suspense is not held for long - a moment later, a calico cat makes her way daintily into the room with them, stares up at Essek, and hisses.

“Gretchen,” Caleb scolds, along with a long string of Zemnian that Essek’s rudimentary skills can’t hope to follow. He’s just about mastered ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and some of the major foods; nowhere near native-speaker-speaking-to-his-cat level.

Essek tries not to be offended at being hissed at, even as he can feel his own ears flicking back behind his head in annoyance. “I have done nothing to you,” he says to the cat.

“She is scared,” says Caleb, reaching down to scritch the calico’s ears. She glares at Essek but submits happily to the pets. “She will get used to you.”

The cat eyes him like a particularly unpleasant thing that has been dropped on the floor. Well, Essek thinks, he has certainly had nemeses before. What is one more?

The situation does not improve from there. Every week, Essek Teleports to Caleb’s house, and every week, Gretchen acts as though Essek has offended her to the very depths of her being. (It probably doesn’t help that the third time this happened, Essek hissed back.)

By the end of the first month, Essek despairs that he will ever have a good relationship with Caleb’s animal companion.

At night, when he’s downstairs studying and Caleb is asleep, Essek sneaks back upstairs to find Gretchen curled up at Caleb’s side, purring happily. When Caleb is reading on the couch and Essek is attempting to cook in the kitchen, he peeks in to find Gretchen stubbornly attempting to seat herself in the middle of Caleb’s book, to Caleb’s laughter.

It seems that although they loathe one another, he and Gretchen share a love of the same man. Surely there is common ground they can find.

One night, Yasha and Beau come over for dinner. Gretchen is ambivalent about Beau (although no hissing is involved), but she waltzes right up to Yasha and starts headbutting her ankle.

“Oooh, hello, little beauty,” Yasha says, reaching down to scratch her cheek. Gretchen stares up at her adoringly. Essek also stares at her, aghast and betrayed.

“What is this?” he asks like a spurned lover.

“What is what?” Beau asked. She glanced over at Yasha. “Oh, the cat? She loves Yasha. For obvious reasons, of course.”

Essek rolls his eyes. “I thought she did not like strangers.”

Beau blinks. Her eyes narrow and her mouth stretches into a smirk. “Does the cat not like you, Essek?”

“No,” Essek denies quickly. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He quickly makes an exit to the kitchen, making excuses about checking the soup, before he can be pestered further.

That is when he begins to wonder what he’s doing wrong.

First, he tries dressing more comfortably for his trips to Caleb’s. Perhaps, Gretchen is intimidated by the points on his mantle and the finery of his robes – is that a thing cats care about? The only cats Essek has ever encountered have been moorbounders, and usually they care more about the quality of their meal.

Unfortunately, even in loose pants and a soft shirt, Gretchen still glares and hides from him on his next visit. Caleb seems to appreciate the change though, pulling Essek into his arms and cuddling with him more than normal, and Essek makes a mental note that perhaps more comfortable clothing was in order regardless of the cat’s opinion.

Next, he attempts to determine if Yasha has bribed the cat for her love. He does research and discovers that cats are known to love meat and fish. The next week, when he Teleports into Caleb’s house, he pulls out a handkerchief with some pieces of fish stashed inside and lays it out on the floor. Gretchen does her usual routine of glaring at him while growling before she slowly approaches to sniff the food.

Caleb looks amused. “You brought a present?”

Essek shrugs, feeling heat on the back of his neck. “She is part of your family.”

Gretchen eats up every morsel of fish, to Essek’s relief. However, once her meal is complete, she goes back to hissing and glowering as though no offering had ever been made.

Essek is starting to feel a bit offended. This feels personal.

One night, he cuddles up with Caleb, dejected, as Caleb strokes his hands through Essek’s hair and coils a curl around his finger. “You are quieter than usual,” says Caleb. “Is something wrong?”

Essek glances up at him through his lashes. “Gretchen does not like me.”

Caleb says, “hmm” and continues to stroke Essek’s hair. “I have thought much about this, and I think she sees you as another cat.”

This is not something Essek has ever considered. “Another cat?” he echoes, surprised.

Caleb presses a kiss to his hairline. “You have cat-like mannerisms. You are prickly and picky and beautiful. Does it surprise you at all?”

Essek thinks for a moment; perhaps it does make some sort of strange sense. “So if I am another cat, how do I win her affection?” he asks at last.

“Well,” says Caleb, “ideally I would have put you both in adjoining rooms and let you sniff each other under the door.”

Essek gives him an unamused look. “Caleb Widogast, I am not actually a cat.”

Caleb tousles his hair with a small chuckle. “Ja, of course. Then I would say…be around her. In, ah, her orbit, so to speak. Give her space, but be present and let her get used to you.”

“I have been present,” says Essek petulantly. “She does not like me.”

Caleb shakes his head. “You either approach her head-on or you give her a wide berth – understandable, but I do not think it helps.” He lays his forehead against Essek’s curls. “You are stubborn. You will find a way.”

And slowly, Essek does.

He continues to bring Gretchen fish, but retreats beyond arm’s reach so that she can eat without feeling threatened. He is careful to seat himself within her watchful gaze when she is near, so that she will know his location. He stops trying to befriend and starts letting her be, and Caleb had been right – once he gives her the space to get to know him on her own terms, Gretchen finally, finally begins to thaw.

The first day she approaches him after her fish treat and lets him tentatively reach down to scratch her ears, Essek feels as though he’d been rewarded with a monumental gift. He meets Caleb’s gaze – and Caleb smiles sappily at him, as though all he’d ever wanted for his life was Essek and a cat, in this little house, with everyone getting along.

“You see?” Essek says to Gretchen. “I am not so bad.”

She turns around to show him her butthole and trots away with her tail held high. Essek laughs. “Perhaps we still have some ways to go.”

Caleb wraps an arm around his shoulders. “It takes time,” he says sagely, and Essek can do nothing more than laugh exasperatedly and press a kiss to his cheek.

[theramseyloft]

I only recently learned that among the many problems with pet parrots is that people will pet them like a dog which triggers mating behavior, and Im curious if pigeons are like that too?

Is there a correct way to pet pigeons?

It's a universal bird thing, since the cock balances on the hen's back and tucks his tail under hers to copulate (technically known as Treading).

There are bottoms among pigeon cocks, so it's not just hens that are turned on by weight on their backs.

Keep in mind, though, that that weight has to be feel like of another bird.

Something like foliage brushing against their back wouldn't put them in a mindset of being courted.

So a very light touch along the back shouldn't particularly either.

If you want to cradle an especially docile individual without them misconstruing it as an attempt to tread, focus pressure on the wing shield, not the back.

See how Bird-Bird is being held in my husband's lap?

One hand is supporting her chest and shoulder.

The other very delicately stroking her back.

BB took it upon herself to be my husband's ESA.

She liked hugs, and he could gently tug her against himself with just a little pressure to her wing shield, from the position shown above.

This is my favorite photo of them. It's the background on my desktop.

It's hard to see, but they are leaning against each other in this photo.

She liked to climb all the way up his leg, into his lap, and up his chest to get to his shoulder and lean all of her weight against his cheek.

He's tilted his head to rest his cheek on her shoulder.

They would just sit like this for hours when he got off work.

And that's a pretty good example of what platonic cuddling looks like for a pigeon.

You can also use arms or hands for this. The key is just focusing pressure against the side, rather than on the back.

Many birds are head shy and spook if you reach of their face.

Pigeons don't like that either.

A bird that is comfortable with you, though, will enjoy gentle neck scritches like Cheeto is getting in the Tiktok linked above.

My hand is not resting any weight on him. Just kind of hovering over so I can reach to preen his neck and the back of his head.

Now, if you are ever in the position of caring for a nestling, they need to be covered with pressure on their back when held!

Baby pigeons spend their first three weeks in a cuddle puddle under their parents.

They will not transition from reading pressure on their back as the safety of a protective parent to reading it as an attempt to tread them until about six to eight weeks of age.

People struggle with the concept of their own human infants developing past infancy, so it's really no surprise that the much faster transition of a pet from infant to teen to sexually mature adult doesn't quite register in the way it should.

No one sane does that on purpose. Humans are just wired to be protective and nurturing towards infants.

It's just important to be aware that a baby pigeon needs to be cradled close with weight on their back to feel secure and protected, but an adult will see weight applied to their back as an attempt to mate, so the way their care taker handles them has to change as they physically mature.

[gaybananabread]

For the fruit shop store request, something between Kinger and Gangle, cause those two have stolen my heart and I think they’d be good friends. I was thinkin “strawberries”, “pear” and “mangoes”.

So, Gangles comedy mask breaks again, so she goes to Kinger for comfort, starts with a hug, he finds out she’s ticklish and lovingly uses that to his advantage, then she gets revenge, and it ends in a little comforting cuddle in the end. All platonic ofc. Does that sound doable? If not, I understand:)

Fruit(s): Strawberries, Pears, Mangoes

OKAy plot has been outlined! Gangle is the wet cat of this fandom and I love it. Kinger gives off crazy dad vibes as well; it’s always fun to flesh those out! I’m pretty sure I nailed everything you asked for Anon! Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lees: Gangle, Kinger

Lers: Kinger, Gangle

Summary: Gangle's comedy mask is broken once again, upsetting her and leading her to seek comfort. Kinger helps her out, and while his silly method does work, he soon learns just how effective it is.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Gangle cradled the halves of her comedy mask, eyeing them wistfully. The tears on her mask quivered, small whimpers escaping the ribbon entity. Not again…

She had just convinced Caine to fix her comedy mask for her; a task that took many, many hours of begging. Less than a day later, though, the ringmaster had planned a wild adventure, leading to her mask getting broken once again. He had refused to fix it again so soon, leaving her without a “working” smile.

When she got really sad, Gangle only knew of one character who she could go to for both emotional and mask-related help. She tried not to cry as she lumbered towards the pillow fort, small sniffs and whines slipping past her defenses.

Kinger heard the girl coming before he saw her. As Gangle approached the fort, the “door” opened without a sound, a kindly chess piece greeting her. She showed him the broken mask with a whine, the line of her mouth quivering. He led her inside, replacing the front pillow and sitting her down. Kinger was mostly stable that day, his hands only shaking a little if he let his mind wander.

“What happened this time?” He reached under a purple pillow, pulling out some white tape. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. Kinger started to tape up the mask, listening to whatever his fellow circus member had to say.

“C-Caine’s NPC’s knocked my m-mask off…” Gangle brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them as best as she could. Her poor comedy mask was always getting cracked, chipped or outright smashed during Caine’s adventures. Why did she have to be so fragile?

Kinger finished taping her mask up, holding it up and checking his work. It was nowhere near as good as Caine’s reset-powers, but it would have to do. He handed it to her, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, it’s not good, but it should work…”

She put the mask on, blinking a few times to test it out. Gangle was smiling, but it was so small… Definitely not what he wanted to see. “Hey, Gangle…do you want a hug?”

The ribbon girl nodded, her smile growing a little. Kinger wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and hugging her. It was nice at first, the hug helping cheer her up.

Kinger moved a bit in the hug, rubbing her back. She liked the touch, but the fuzzy white material of his robe was rubbing against her front ribbons, right where her stomach would be. Gangle tried to keep quiet, squirming and pressing her mouth shut.

It took the supposedly older man all but a few seconds to realize what was going on. He chuckled, getting a tighter grip on her and sitting back. Kinger moved one hand downwards, gently scratching the ribbons of her side.

“EEP! K-Kihinger!” She squealed, giggles filling the fort as Kinger scritched on her sides. While it was a bit silly, he’d learned that that method of cheering-up worked on most of the circus residents. Gangle seemed especially receptive to it.

While Gangle did love affections from Kinger, it still tickled. She squirmed and twisted in the hug, giggling and squeaking her mask off. If she wanted to, she could have just untwisted her ribbons and slipped out of the hug. There was no fun in that, though; besides, she kinda liked being held close, and laughing around her trusted friend felt nice.

“What? I’m just helping my friend cheer up! You need to smile more, Gangle; it looks good on you.” He hummed fondly, moving his wiggling fingers to the middle of her stomach ribbons. 

She squealed, kicking her legs and flailing as much as the tickly hug would allow. “KIHIHIhingeher! N-NYAAAHAhahaho!” Gangle might not have had a definite body like the other characters, but she was definitely still ticklish. It didn’t make much sense, but then again, what in the circus did? 

Kinger loved hearing his friends laugh. Life in the circus was crazy; there were some days where he could barely keep a grip on his sanity. Others, he was solid. Hearing his fellow circus members laugh meant that they weren’t on the brink of total insanity. It wasn’t much, but it was a comfort.

“Ihihit tihihickles! P-pleheHEHEASE!” Gangle’s pitchy laughter jumped all over the place, a red hue dusting the cheeks of her mask. Another thing that doesn’t seem possible; ceramic gaining a color that’s the result of raised blood pressure. But eh, who needs logic?

“You have a nice laugh, Gangle. Should let us hear it more often as well.” He sounded so calm and playful, ultimately making everything twice as bad. Another squeal rang through the fort, one of Gangle’s bright red arms patting Kinger’s hand. It was a sort of tap-out; she was at her limit.

Kinger backed off, switching to gentle rubs on her back ribbons as he tried to help her settle back down. Gangle giggled off the leftover tickles, still a bit giddy from the “help” her friend provided. “Ohoho gohosh… That was mehean!”

He chuckled, sitting her down on a pillow and shaking his head. “Is it really mean if you enjoyed it?” She grumbled, smirking as she poked his side in retaliation. Surprisingly enough, he yelped, jolting away from the touch with a small giggle. Oooh, revenge!

Gangle chuckled mischievously, a spark of confidence taking over. She wrapped her leg ribbons around his middle, digging into his sides. The chess piece snorted, his large eyes squeezing shut as he squirmed. While he probably could’ve tossed her off, he was kind of enjoying her “payback.” It was apparently just as fun to laugh as it was to hear it from his friends. 

“Gahahangle! *snrk* Whyhyhy are you tihickling mehe?” He wriggled around, but he didn’t actually put any effort into escaping. He was having as much fun as she was.

The ribbon girl laughed with him, enjoying herself. “Because you started it!” She squeezed where his hips would be, making the chess man squeal. “IHI WAHAHAS *snrk* CHEHEERING YOU UHUHUP!”

“So am I!” She moved one arm, using the end of her ribbon to brush along the neck-base of his piece. Small squeaks and squeals broke through his snorty laughter, making her smile. Gangle loved his laugh-y noises.

Kinger tried to scrunch up his shoulders, twisting more as she upped the ante. “B-BUHUT I AHAM *snrk* H-HAHAPPY! GAHANGLE!” It was getting harder and harder to stay still…

“That’s because I’m making you happy!” She knew it was a bit mean, but she was having fun! Kinger rarely had good days like that; she had to take advantage of it! 

Kinger wanted to protest the sensibility of all that, but he was too busy laughing his proverbial ass off. Gangle was surprisingly good at tickling him. Being a little less resilient than Gangle, he quickly ran out of energy. 

One of his hands pat at her leg ribbon, showing that he was down for the count. Gangle unraveled her legs from around him, smiling and sitting back to watch her friend. While her comedy mask was far from perfect, she felt a lot better than she had when entering the fort.

Kinger rubbed his hip and neck area, calming the residual tickles and taking a few deep breaths; he was tired. With a small yawn, he grabbed the softer pillows in his fort, setting up two for him and Gangle. He didn’t even need to ask her if she wanted in. It had been a sort of pattern for them: someone got sad, they both cheered eachother up, and cuddled afterwards to recharge.

With a small giggle, she crawled over to him, careful not to hit any support pillows. When Kinger laid down, she cuddled up right beside him, wrapping her arms around his middle and getting cozy against the soft pillows of the fort.

Exhaustion hit them both like a ton of bricks; apparently, all that tickling had worn them out. Kinger pulled a blanket over them both, relishing in the peaceful moment as he drifted off to sleep. Gangle was close behind him, a smile still on her face. She loved his cheer-up sessions...

[scoops-aboy86]

literally so happy to hear you have wide open asks.... I LOVE the idea you brought up about Steve gaining weight just kinda slowly and steadily because he loves to eat and is tired of denying himself....... and how might Eddie respond to this newly relaxed and bigger Steve?

Hi, hello! Yeah, Steve needs a break, man. Those regularly unscheduled beatings take a toll, he’s just tired. I read something once that referred to him gaining weight after the Upside Down stuff is done for good as his “peace body” and that lives in my brain rent free. 

I hope this answers your question because I kind of got carried away:

Eddie loves relaxed Steve, especially as he unlearns some of his own “jocks bad nerds good” and “popular bad outcast good” dichotomies that he’s built up as part of his armor over the years. Steve, he realizes, is not just a good dude, but a chill dude too. 

Sure, he’s a little fussy about his hair, and sometimes his clothes—complains a little when his polos start not quite fitting the way they used to, although Eddie personally can’t see any problem with that. Steve is just hot, okay? He was hot in gym class in those little green shorts, in basketball games in those little white shorts, and he’s just as hot (if not even prettier) lounging back with a joint in one hand, a soda in the other, and a little sliver of belly peeking out the bottom of his shirt. Because he’s happier now. Cozy. Eddie takes any opportunity he can get to lay his head on Steve’s lap because he has just the best thighs. 

Meanwhile, Steve—who’s only fussing because he’s had a thing for Eddie ever since “dontcha, big boy” launched him into a sexuality crisis last March, and he’s used to getting dates because he looks good, so he wants to look good—just sort of melts any time Eddie leans or lays on him. This has occasionally made him late for work or picking up Robin or the kids, but more often it just means that he asks “Can you get me…” a lot. Which is difficult for him to do! Because he’s used to the idea that he can take care of himself, and he can take care of other people, but why should other people have to take care of him? But he can and has sat still for hours if it means that Eddie gets in a decent nap, or is enjoying the movie that’s on, or whatever. If he has to go to the bathroom, he’ll hold it. Robin teases him that her dad is the same way about the family cat… which kind of indirectly leads to Steve learning that Eddie loves head scritches. (He totally white lies to her and says that Eddie asked him to do that, but actually he did it one time without thinking and Eddie asked him in a slightly hoarse voice to do that again. And then got up shortly afterwards to go to the bathroom, allowing Steve to stretch his legs and take a bathroom break of his own.)

And it’s only a matter of time, what with the gradually waning nightmares as it finally sinks in that the danger is over, the not being on alert all the time, the fact that Steve is no longer a teenager or on any sports teams, the recreational smoking, the metalhead lapcat… Only a matter of time before Eddie settles into place and feels where Steve’s tummy is starting to encroach on his spot. 

It’s after a small party (just the older UD crew) when everyone else but Robin has already gone home, and he’s just high and sleepy and a little tipsy enough to roll over and snuggle in without thinking about it, nuzzling that sliver of tan skin and chest hair and just breathing Steve in with a happy sigh. His body feels floaty enough that he vaguely thinks that Steve must have carried him upstairs to his bedroom, and this is Steve’s pillow or something. 

Steve is frozen in place, eyes absolutely huge, staring across the living room to where Robin is watching this happen from the kitchen doorway with an amused smirk on her face. When Eddie brings his hand up to hug the “pillow” closer, Steve mouths “Help me” at her. 

She shrugs and spreads her hands like, “What do you want me to do?”

He tries to use eyebrow movements and hand gestures to remind her that of the three of them she’s smoked and drank the least, so she should have the functioning brain cell right now, not him. Because he’s pretty crossfaded too, and fairly full after getting the munchies and going to town on the pizza they’d ordered for the party, and now there’s a cute dude cuddling his belly and it feels good and he’s going to have a reaction soon—

“I don’t need to know about that,” Robin shout-whispers vehemently, and backs into the kitchen mouthing “la-la-la-lesbian” and “I can’t hear you.” Steve vows to write her out of his will. Not that he has one, but still.

Eddie rouses a moment later because his brain is starting to catch up to the fact that it’s not fabric he’s drooling on here. When he half sits up he’s face to face with a very flustered Steve, who is chewing on his plush bottom lip and Eddie wants to, like, help him with that. And then he looks down, and probably part of what woke him up is that his nuzzling has pushed Steve’s shirt up a little more than usual, and also yep, that’s a boner.

They make eye contact. 

“Can I kiss you?” Eddie blurts out, because he definitely wants to and he thinks, based on the boner and the fact that Steve hasn’t shoved him away yet, that maybe Steve does too. 

“You’d better,” Steve blurts back, cheeks flaming, because he already has Eddie’s spit drying on his skin. He’s totally flustered and doesn’t even have time to run a hand through his hair before Eddie is straddling his lap, cradling his face gently in both hands, and drawing him into a clumsy but earnest kiss.

They spend the rest of the night kissing and cuddling and talking on the couch, still a little giggly from their highs and Eddie snagging more things for Steve to eat whenever Steve seems even the tiniest bit hungry, because he just looks so happy whenever he’s relaxed and enjoying his food. And if he sneaks some belly rubs in there too, no one else has to know.

Permanent tag list: @hotluncheddie

[keldae]

Cute, shippy starters: 46) “Hey, have you seen the..? *Oh.*”

Devi loved cats, for the most part. Having grown up in the Lower City, stray cats had been all over the place; and most of them, after some obligatory introductory hissing, seemed to tolerate the little half-Elf thief well enough. Some had even learned that, if they were friendly enough, Devi might share her food scraps with them while she waited for her next mark. It hadn't been uncommon for Devi to have a cat curled up beside her while she had sat on a roof ledge, or prowling around her legs while she'd scoped out a new target. Her father would never have let her keep one for a pet, but she enjoyed giving scritches and pets where she could to the stray animals. 

And then there was Tara.

Devi supposed her first mistake had been referring to Tara as “Gale's tressym” – she'd immediately gotten hissed at for that. She hadn't made the same mistake again, but Tara seemed to not ever forget a grudge. Even after Devi had come home with Gale to Waterdeep, Tara had regarded the thief with aloof suspicion. She was incredibly different from the normal cats Devi had grown used to, and even with regular usage of a potion to let her speak with animals, the two regularly butted heads.

She knew it caused Gale distress, that the woman he loved and the tressym he adored seemed to be permanently at odds. “Was she like this with Mystra too?” she had asked one day, watching Tara fly in pursuit of a hapless pigeon.

Gale had snorted. “Given how Mystra and I ended, and the sixth sense that animals have about such things, I like to think Tara would have tried to claw her eyes out if they'd ever met.” He'd smiled and given Devi a kiss on the temple. “I'm sure she'll warm up to you eventually. She's just… cautious with new people.”

That had been well over a tenday ago, and Devi still wasn't sure how long ‘eventually’ was supposed to last. 

She sat in her favourite chair in Gale's tower, idly plucking at the strings on her violin. Gale himself was out today – he'd been summoned to some sort of meeting with another wizard, and the tone of the invitation had made it clear that Devi wasn't invited. Honestly, Gale had been more offended at the entire matter than she'd been. She'd sent him on his way with a kiss and a promise that she wouldn't find any mischief in his absence. And so far, she'd been good to her word, reading one of his many books and coming up with a new melody to play on the violin.

She sighed, looking out the window for a moment, then winced as her stomach lurched threateningly. Apparently whatever stomach flu she had somehow picked up (that Gale had dodged. Lucky bastard of a wizard.) was still not fully out of her system. And that had been the other reason Gale had been reluctant to go to this meeting with his colleague – he was worried about her, after the last four days of her waking up sick and struggling to keep anything she ate down.

Maybe it was the coffee he had introduced her to. Devi wrinkled her nose in thought. That was something she had never been introduced to as a poor Baldurian thief – perhaps the rich, stimulant brew was the cause of her–

Her eyes went wide, and she barely had time to set her violin on the table and grab an empty pail before her stomach violently rejected the two pieces of toasted bread and the banana she'd eaten less than an hour ago.

Wincing as her stomach eventually stopped revolting, she spat into the bucket, then shakily stood up, intent on finding water to rinse her mouth out before disposing of the vomited meal. “Fucking hells,” she mumbled, scowling down at her stomach. “Are you done yet?”

“Tsk, tsk,” said a voice behind Devi, one that made her jump. “Mr. Dekarios will not be pleased to learn that you're still ill.” With a flutter of her wings, Tara jumped up onto the table, regarding Devi with a stern look. “Had I thumbs, I would make you drink some tea.”

“Gale's been trying with the tea,” Devi said, finding a carafe of water in the kitchen and swishing a mouthful around to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. She spat into the bucket, still feeling Tara's eyes on her. “I think it helps a little bit?”

Tara lowly growled, then jumped to the counter. “Here,” she said, standing up on her hind legs to paw at a rack of herbs. “Mr. Dekarios keeps ginger up in this rack, and that should help with human – or half-Elf – nausea.”

“... Thank you.” Devi approached the counter, reaching around the fluffy head and wings to grab the large ginger root. Finding where Gale kept his kitchen knives, she carefully cut off a thin slice of the ginger, then put it in her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the strong taste. “Please work,” she mumbled as she put the rest of the root away, then moved to clean off the knife. She knew how particular Gale was with his knives.

Tara sat on the counter, tail swishing as she watched the thief clean and return the knife to its block. “I know you haven't been sleeping either,” the tressym said, “what with constantly waking up sick the last few nights. Go lie down.”

Devi frowned at the idea of taking orders from the winged cat. “I'm honestly all right,” she started to say. “I don't feel–”

She blinked as a paw batted at her arm. “You clearly are not all right,” Tara scolded. “And I'll not have Mr. Dekarios fretting over if you're getting enough rest while you’re so obviously ill. He's made it quite clear that he cares a great deal about you.” The tressym shifted her weight, then jumped onto Devi’s shoulders, making her stagger with a little grunt at the weight of a heavy winged cat perching on her. “To bed with you, Deviali.”

“It’s Devi,” the thief muttered. “What about if I just sit and read or–”

Tara growled threateningly.

Devi sighed, admitting defeat. “Fine, I’m going.” She wouldn’t ever admit it to Tara, but she was tired, after four mornings of waking up sick before the time that she and Gale normally got up. And it was impossible to quietly vomit, as she’d figured out the hard way – Gale was always at her side within a minute of her lunging out of bed, holding her hair back and looking at her with open concern in his eyes. “What do you care about me?” the half-Elf asked the tressym as she started making her way to the bedroom, with a longing glance at her violin. “You don’t seem to like me as it is.”

Seemingly noticing which way Devi’s eyes went, Tara lightly smacked the side of her face with her paw to make her focus on going to bed. “My opinions are moot. Mr. Dekarios adores you, which means that it becomes my duty to look after you like I do him. I’ve looked after that wizard since he was a boy – I’m not about to fly off because he picked you.” She settled across the back of Devi’s neck, like an oversized, winged scarf. “And if I don’t look after you, then it becomes the dog’s job to tend to you, and he is not a suitable caretaker.”

“Scratch is perfectly fine,” Devi protested, obligated to defend what she had come to think of as ‘her’ dog since the day he’d shown up in camp. “And he doesn’t try to nursemaid me or anything–”

“My point exactly. You’re obviously ill, and dogs, while loyal, do not understand taking care of two-legged creatures with no self-preservation instincts.” 

“... I have perfectly fine self-preservation instincts,” Devi grumbled as she entered the bedroom and sat down on her side of the bed.

“That’s not the impression I got from hearing Mr. Dekarios’ stories about you during your little adventure,” Tara disagreed. She hopped down from Devi’s shoulders, then settled on the thief’s lap, giving her a pointed look. “If I have to make you lie down…”

Devi thought about arguing with the cat, then saw Tara warningly flex her front paws, revealing sharp claws under her fur, and thought better of it. “I can’t believe I just lost an argument with you,” she complained, laying down and curling up on her side.

Tara’s tail twitched in an almost smug manner. “Please feel free to ask Mr. Dekarios why he doesn’t pick fights with me anymore.” She climbed up onto Devi’s hip and started kneading the half-Elf through her trousers. “Ugh, you’re far too thin still. Is Mr. Dekarios not feeding you sufficiently?”

“If Gale could feed me himself, he would,” Devi muttered. “It’s hard to eat when everything he makes, no matter how good, keeps coming back up.”

“If you wake up sick again tomorrow,” Tara mused, “I’m going to have to tell him to fetch a cleric or visit an apothecary. Then again, perhaps he’ll bring something home tonight for you to feel better.” She jumped down to the mattress and, to Devi’s surprise, curled up against the thief’s stomach. “You are not to move from this bed until Mr. Dekarios returns home this evening, and you do not want to know what the consequences will be if you disobey me. Are we understood?”

“I’m being bullied into taking a nap by a tressym,” Devi groused, and promptly got batted by one of Tara’s wings. “Ow!”

“Somebody has to ensure that you rest and recover, if you’re not going to look after yourself.” Tara’s vivid eyes met Devi’s without blinking. “Now, I will allow you to offer scratches to my ears, just this once. Do not get used to it.”

Devi eyed the tressym for a moment, then slowly reached to slowly pet the top of Tara’s head, rubbing behind her ears. She was quickly rewarded with the low rumble of a pleased purr, vibrating against her stomach. Despite the half-Elf’s reluctance to take a nap, the feeling of curling up in bed with a large cat – or tressym – snuggled up against her upset stomach did feel very soothing. She sighed, then let her eyes drift closed, and felt Tara’s purring grow a little louder, as though the tressym approved. “You’re still the worst,” she muttered.

“Likewise, Deviali,” Tara smugly said, her purring never stopping. “Go to sleep.”

“It’s Devi,” the thief grumbled, even if part of her knew that the tressym would always use her despised full name, until the day Devi married Gale and took his last name for her own. Then it would probably become “Mrs. Dekarios”.

That actually has a nice ring to it, she thought as she felt herself slowly drift away into sleep, lulled by the sounds of Tara's purring.

—

Gale frowned slightly as he entered his tower, expecting to be greeted on his return home. The only lifeform to welcome him was Scratch, curled up by the fireplace; the dog looked up and thumped his tail against the floor, tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. “Where’s Devi, hmm?” the wizard asked, kneeling to give the dog a scratch behind the ears.

Scratch wuffed, then set his head back down on his front paws. “Upstairs,” he said – Gale, once again, was grateful for the spell that let him speak with animals. “She’s been upstairs with Tara all day.”

That got a small wince from Gale – he almost wondered if there had been bloodshed in his home during his absence. “Good boy, Scratch,” he said, standing back up and making his way through the tower. It was suspiciously quiet in his residence: no Tara trotting or flying up to see him with a meow of greeting, no sounds of Devi playing her violin, no pretty half-Elf emerging from a doorway with a smile on her face to see her betrothed. He sighed, wondering if Devi and Tara had managed to kill each other while he’d been stuck all day with his wizarding colleagues. “Devi?” he lowly called out. “Tara?”

No sign of Tara anywhere – perhaps she was out hunting pigeons again. But Devi should have been here. Gale poked his head into the common room, then into his study – no sign of his favourite thief in either room, besides the violin resting on a table beside the window. Perhaps the bedroom, then? Gods knew that she hadn’t been resting well, with waking up sick every morning the past few days. He could only pray that the potions in his satchel, purchased from the apothecary only an hour ago, would cure whatever was wrong with her. He approached the bedroom door, only slightly ajar, and gently pushed it open. “Have you seen –” he started to say as he looked in – a second later, he went silent, his eyes softening. “Oh.”

On the bed, Tara looked up from where she was curled against a sleeping Devi, the tip of her tail swishing before her nose. “Not a word from you about this compromising position,” she quietly said, ears tilting back slightly. “It was the only way to make sure she rested. She was ill again this afternoon while you were gone.”

“Again?” Gale frowned worriedly as he sat on the edge of the bed; Tara stood up and stretched, then climbed up onto his shoulders, curling up around his neck and purring away. “Thank you for looking after her, Tara – I know you disapprove of her, but I love her.”

“I know you do. And it is good to see you happy with her, Mr. Dekarios.” Tara carefully adjusted her wings so she wouldn’t hit Gale in the back of the head with the large appendages. “She’s slept the last two hours after being ill again. You did stop at an apothecary for something to cure her, yes?”

“I did – and I’ve been assured that the potions I bought should fix anything.” The wizard carefully leaned down to Devi’s face, pressing gentle kisses over her forehead, her eyes, her cheek. “Hello, my love,” he murmured as Devi started to stir. “Did you sleep well?”

Devi’s eyes slowly opened as she looked up at Gale; her lips pulled up in a smile once she recognized him. “Hey, you,” she quietly said, reaching up to kiss him. “Welcome home.”

Gale smiled fondly as he returned Devi’s kiss, stroking his hand through her long hair. “And it feels the most like home when you’re here to grace it with your presence,” he softly chuckled. “Are you feeling better? Tara mentioned you were ill again.”

“Traitor,” Devi muttered, frowning up at the smug tressym, before slowly sitting up. “I… think I’m all right? At least for–” She froze, eyes widening as her hand settled on her stomach. “... Shit.”

Instinct had Gale stand up and get the hell out of Devi’s way, a second before she was on her feet and fleeing to the water closet. He frowned, worry becoming full-fledged anxiety as he started fishing around in his satchel for a potion. “Tara, can you stay with her for another minute while I get her some water?”

Tara was off his shoulders and flying after Devi almost before he’d finished speaking. “Do hurry, Mr. Dekarios,” she called back. “I am not an expert on half-Elves, but something is certainly wrong.”

[giggly-squiggily]

MoonLily my favorite girlies ever aiuskqjaksjsk… HC that after Selene/Moon grew out her hair, she found she really enjoyed getting it brushed or styled by Lillie. When she’s completed a difficult battle and Lillie offers to heal her Pokémon, Moon first collapses onto her in gratitude then asks her to play with her hair. Except playing with her hair also kinda tickles and Lillie will brush over her ears and neck just to be mean <33333 Thank you in advance!!

(Headcanons to Dabbles: OFFICIALLY CLOSED)

Oh the GIRLS! I love them so much- they are too CUTE!!! I've gotcha covered, anon!

“Heeee..” Moon sighed as she returned to Lillie, arms stretched overhead. “That was..was a…”

“A tough one?” Lillie asked as she watched her girlfriend yawn, smiling when she opted to nod. “Do you want me to heal your team?”

“That would be nice. Before that though…” Moon tossed her hat aside as she fell to her knees, flopping forward and into Lillie’s lap. “Could you…you know?”

“You’re gonna end up as spoiled as an Alolan Persian.” The blonde clicked her tongue, her hands already undoing Moon’s braids. The past year or so she’d been growing out her hair. Originally, she had claimed it was simply too much work keeping the same hairstyle, but Lillie has since learned the real reason.

Moon loved having her hair played with. Both mindlessly and styled. Fortunately for her, Lillie also loved playing with her hair. She was responsible for Moon’s braids that day in fact.

Long silky strands of black slid between Lillie’s fingers as she combed through it, her touch light and feathery. For someone who claimed it was too much a hassle, Moon took good care of it. “Do you want your braids again or something else?”

“Yes.” Moon purred, eyes closed as she melted at the touch. Her peace was soon quickly disturbed however when Lillie tickled her neck. “Ahehahaha, nhoohoho!”

“Let me ask again. Braids, or something else?” Lillie teased, scritching her fingers against Moon’s neck as the other girl squeaked and squirmed. “Use your words, love.”

“Ahehehahahah! Brahhaahaids, brhahahhahaids!” Moon cried out, cheeks warming and smile big as she buried her face ino Lillie’s leg. “Aheahhaahahha! Liihiihiihhillihihihie!”

“Hehe, see? That wasn’t so hard.” The tickles stopped- briefly. Lillie went to work redoing her braids, “accidentally” brushing against her ears and neck the entire time. Moon’s hands shook, clutching the soft material of Lillie’s skirt as she laughed. “Don’t squirm- I might have to start over.”

“Nohoohohoho! I’m stahhahahying stihihiihill!” She cried, kicking her feet against the dirt as Lillie finished off the last of her braids, giving her neck one last tickle before releasing her. Rolling on her back, the brunette gasped for air- picking up the long plaits and admiring them in the sun. “THehehheheere cuhuhuute. Thahahahnks, loohohve.”

“Hehe, of course.” The blonde giggled before scooting over, curling up against her girlfriend’s side. “You’re so cute, Moon. It’s only natural I want your hair to match that.”

The other girl blushed and giggled, leaning in and kissing her gently. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[shitty-check-please-aus]

Glasgow highlights

free museums!

a very cool cathedral, also free

I really hope this doesn't sound reductive or stereotypical but I do appreciate that I didn't have to feel bad or awkward if I accidentally swore in public.

we went to a Ceilidh! And yeah the crowd was mostly American tourists but it was still super fun, I really liked the folk dances and the way they walked us through them.

loved all the murals!

cider options at all the pubs! I was concerned going in because I don't like beer but I didn't have to be, I just had my boozy little juice and I was very happy. Also way more interesting cider options than I usually see, lots of fun berry flavors.

we did get to go to one tea room, I had a lovely little shortbread and some Earl Grey, which like I could do here but it was about the experience

I appreciate the dedication you have to keeping cones on your statues

y'all were so nice and patient with me when I didn't understand what the fuck you were saying

almost all the food we had was delicious

General Scotland Highlights from the two days I wasn't in Glasgow

went on a gorgeous walk/hike outside of Stirling

got to go to a cafe/bookshop in Stirling that I've been following on instagram for literal years

got to go to another bookshop in Edinburgh that had a fluffy white shop dog named Artie (I think short for Artemis! She was a good girl and I gave her head scritches)

Had a cheeky nando's and learned that, tragically, the UK doesn't have the mango-lime sauce, the superior mild sauce. Ended up having to re-douse everything in the medium garlic, which we tragically don't have in the US because it was better than plain medium. I need Nando's US and Nando's UK to combine efforts so everyone can have the best sauces

got to sit in a folk music pub and enjoy the music!

I thought ScotRail was super easy to use and very convenient

the most touristy shit we did was the Whisky Experience in Edinburgh, and I thought that was fun! I was thinking a lot about my Genealogy Aunt who passed last year on this trip, and one of her favorite ancestors was some great-great-grandmother barrel maker so it was cool to learn about the importance of that to the process

the lower points, for full disclosure

the fucking hills. I was warned that the person we were staying with lived at the top of a hill, I was not adequately prepped to know that the whole city is like doing a goddamn stairmaster workout.

related to point one, I got the worst plantar fasciitis flareup I've had in years, plus some of the blisters that are just inevitable if you suddenly walk like 10+ miles a day when you normally walk 5-7, felt like my feet were being stabbed every time I took a step

related to point two, we were walking most of the time but the people I was with kept making me feel like when you're driving, and the car next to you ZOOMS ahead, only for you to catch up at the next red light, making you wonder why they bothered zooming? that's not on Glasgow, though

I had a really hard time convincing my brain that some of the historical shit was real, like we were sitting in the ruins of Holyrood Abbey and my brain was like "this is a movie set"

I had the worst fucking breakfast wrap of my life in the Glasgow airport, how did it taste like potsticker filling mixed with baked beans and why

miscellaneous travel notes

this was the first time I bought an airtag, which I kept in my suitcase, and it came in SO HANDY when Aer Lingus left my luggage in Dublin, I didn't waste any time lingering around the baggage claim

If you're going from Europe to the US, if you go through Dublin you can do US customs there and then when you get to your destination you can just go home like you're getting off a domestic flight, 10/10 would do again. My parents went to Montreal this week for their 30th anniversary and they found out that they do this there, too.

So, because of the history of when people in Glasgow started to get that colonialism money, a lot of the historical things we saw were in a category of "old, but not SUPER old." As an American with limited travel experience, I feel like I've got this perception that everything in Europe is old as hell, but most of what we saw in Glasgow was like Philadelphia or DC-levels of old. If you are also an American who wants a taste of that old-ass history that we don't get as much over here, I found more of that in the day trip to Edinburgh. This is in miscellaneous because it's neither positive nor negative, it's just something to know

[ovaruling]

reptile sanctuary volunteering is going great. the guy is trusting my friend and i more to help him out, and we got to be way more useful this time and got every cage cleaned and everyone fed, and there were a couple of tube-feedings and manual feedings for some disabled or sick snakes and lizards. we’re learning a lot and are also trying to absorb as much clerical knowledge as possible too for when i finally start up my own farmed animal sanctuary in the next few years.

anyway i got a chance to photograph, handle, and hold a lot of them today!

this is Angel, the male rhinoceros iguana

this is Zeus, the 500+ pound Aldabra tortoise, who has just eaten some very yummy hay and is enjoying some scritches

this is Bosch, a bearded dragon who, as you can see, is disabled. she suffered tremendously bc her owner ignorantly fed her a worms-only carnivore diet with no fruits or vegetables. she developed a degenerative condition with neurological and skeletal issues and cannot eat on her own and has to have the food put into her mouth—sometimes she chokes, because she also can’t swallow most of the time. she had to be tube-fed an elemental diet today.

this is Pumpkin, the corn snake, having his breakfast

this is Diana, the black-throated monitor being held like a sweet baby bc she is !

here’s George, the Sulcata tortoise who was hit by a car (it was a hit and run—people are incredibly cruel) and several veterinarians wanted to euthanize him rather than treat him. the owner of the sanctuary, a retired surgeon, decided to use his own skills to help George. a university then offered to make him a prosthetic shell (using 3D printing) to help protect his healing wounds. he’s got a mean dent in his shell but he’s healthy and active now and shares his meal with Sally the chicken, who always wants his grapes

and here’s Ricin, a large monitor whose species name i cant remember, being absurdly cute

this is Cher, a disabled sand boa who is not feeling well and got tube fed today

and this is Matthew the adorable and super sweet Argentine black and white tegu who was brought to the sanctuary after someone discovered him (using a night vision camera) to be the long-sought-after thief of their chicken coop’s eggs. Matthew was as far as we know entirely feral but is a huge sweetie and loves rubdowns

and here’s me holding Chris, a very disabled Savannah monitor who was a pet who was dumped into the wild (and was abused during her time as a pet, trapped in a cage where she evidently suffered lamp burns that had thickly scarred her back), was discovered in time before starving, and continues to be tube-fed due to neurological issues from parasites that went long untreated. she’s terribly sickly but she’s very bright and comfortable and sweet and loved

and i have so many other pics but i hit the limit here. the one thing i didn’t get any pics of was that i also got to handle and carry a gorgeous boa constrictor named Niranda who was so muscular and so strong she made me feel puny dweeby shrimpy. she was and is the most girlboss woman i’ve ever met and she was a snake

[catsofcalifornia]

Mama Lizzie and Luigi from Scritch Kittens in Santa Clara, California

Click here for more information about adoption and other ways to help (as well as videos of these two kitties)!

Click here for a link to Scritch Kittens' main website.

Young mama kitty Lizzie is done raising her litter of babies. She is such a good mom that she even took in a plus one! Lizzie is very friendly and loving with her foster parents and such a dedicated mama. She has the cutest babies, Luigi is her favorite and they are often found cuddling together. If you are looking for a friendly companion cat, or even a cat and one of her doting babies, then Lizzie and Luigi are the pair for you!

Lizzie loves cheek, head, chin, back and everywhere else pets and scritches. Shockingly, she also enjoys belly rubs!! She does not care much for toys although recently she was spotted playing with a ball, but she does love catnip and grooming you. She is patient, low maintenance and just wants to relax, lounge around and get pampered. You can see Lizzie kneading and purring happily while she gets pets and scritches. Lizzie will rub up against you or give you a head bump when she really wants some love. She likes to cuddle next to you once she’s comfortable, and she’s still learning about snoozing in laps. She really loves a nice spot on a couch arm or ledge where she can soak up some sun while she naps next to you. She’s okay with being picked up but doesn’t love to be carried around; if anything, she prefers her 4 paws on the ground. She is vocal and happy, and knows what she likes and dislikes. Lizzie would likely be fine with gentle and respectful children.

Little Luigi is ready to be adopted! He is sweet and playful, with a beautiful sleek white coat. Luigi is a mama's boy, following her around and they can often be found cuddling. He is a lover and loves everyone he meets. He has also been exposed to doggies. Luigi is well socialized and will be a delightful addition to any family.

Luigi likes to fly. He was the first kitten to climb to the top of the cat tree and then jump down with no issues. He is a sweet, active and vocal kitten. Luigi will greet you with the best meows and tell you how much he misses you. He likes to groom you, gives you a new hairdo and gives little kisses. Luigi is also a lap baby! If he’s not cuddling up with his siblings, he'll lay in your lap and will fall asleep to pets. Luigi will put a spell on you and have you fall in love with him instantly. He would love to be adopted with his Mama Lizzie.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Caine x Knives (OC)

prize 1/5 for @candy-ac3 ! I hope you enjoy this and that I did your oc justice! I know this will post long after the new episode of TADC drops maybe i think if i read things right- what did you guys think ?? notes: this is an oc x canon post, general hcs, written on september 27th so if anything has changed with caines character in episode 3 then do not!! come at me!!/lh cws: none

Caine always hypes Knives up during her tricks- although.... sometimes hes gets ahead of himself!

juggling? hes tossing way too much to her to keep track off, leading to everything to fall. tight roping? hes adding so many little things to make it a little harder... swinging blades and fire, it only increases the chances of Knives falling or getting tangled up in the rope... he doesnt intend to ruin her tricks! he just wants to see her rise to her best potential

loooooooves the random acts of chaos Knives pulls, he thinks it keeps things fresh- and he WILL enable her, praising her for her creativity.... he wont make it easy though! nonono! Knives must learn how to cause chaos with her own two hands, no help from the world's AI to make things easier!

He.... does not get her sarcasm, though.... he treats the quips as things to be taken literally... poor thing... hes either unfazed or believes Knives to be in a crabby mood.. hopefully she clears the air

He sometimes stretches his arm across the room to give her pets and scritches before popping out of sight to work on... whatever it is he needs to get done to keep things running... now that she thinks about it, even knives isnt entirely sure what he does when hes away and everyone else is on an adventure

speaking of, caine does sometimes curate them to her interests and skills- some may say its favoritism... some may say its a curse, even.... but it is an act of love, he knows what shes passionate about

poses as soon as he sees her drawing- not just a simple peace sign.... oh nononono hes pulling out all the lights and effects, theres props popping into existence! loves anything she ends up drawing

[rancidpancakebatter]

We Write the Story-[P.P.] | Chapter One

Pairings: TASM!Peter Parker x Hispanic!College!Female!Reader

Chapter Summary:  You’ve been friends with Peter Parker for most of your life, and as his identity is released and the world turns against him, you stand by his side.

Takes place during No Way Home

Word Count: 5.5k words

Content: Some superhero fighting, angst, language, mentions of death,

( Previous | Chapter List | Next )

A/N: This is so entirely self-indulgent. I like to think that MCU! Peter can speak Spanish and I wanted to run with that. I speak Mexican Spanish so I apologize if it's not necessarily "correct" or what you're used to.

The last few months had been a whirlwind. You were on summer break, your second year of college nicely wrapped, and were excited to spend more time with your family. You didn’t go far for college, just NYU, but your busy schedule made it hard to slow down. Ms May was constantly warning you about over-working yourself, and you promised this year, you would try and take it easier.

During your freshman year, you tried out the dorms but quickly decided against them for the next. Your father had passed during the blip, and you got the apartment in the will, so it worked out the best that a situation like that could.

You were working full-time at a record shop that you had fallen in love with. And now that you were back across the hall, you had dinner with the Parkers every night. It was a fun routine, and it was nice to catch up. Petey had grown a lot in the past year or so. He had been through a lot.

You were the first and only person he told about being Spider-Man. You thought he was insane but also understood why he felt he had to do what he did. You were proud of him and his decision, and as much as you hated Tony Stark, you were glad he had someone who knew what he was going through. May soon learned of his moonlighting escapades, as did Ned.

You helped May when you could at FEAST. She offered you a position, but you felt bad taking it; you didn’t want anyone to think less of May for accidentally suggesting Nepotism. Even if you were well qualified for the job.

You would go to the fundraiser events and help Peter run his speeches. You were there to drop him off at the airport when he left for his school trip. You were there, panicking alongside May, as the news showed clip after clip of these “elementals” ransacking Europe. You were there when Peter’s identity was leaked.

You had been walking down the street; you had a day off and wanted to enjoy summer in the city. You had been treating yourself, bags hanging from your hands as you walked into your favourite shop for lunch.

“Hey, Delmar!” The older man smiled at you throwing his hands up above his head.

“Well, if it isn’t the Queen of Queens! What can I get you this fine day?” You chuckled as you gave him your and Peter’s order- as if he didn’t have them memorised.

“You got it, boss. How’s school going?” You smiled as you told him your classes were going well, and you were excited for the next term. 

“Stay in school kid, stay in school.” He always told you that. 

And as always, you respond, “That’s the plan.”

As you were giving Murph scritches behind the ear, you caught a glimpse of the TV behind him. Peter’s face filled the screen, spilt by his mask. Your heart fell to the floor. 

“Hey, Del, can you turn that up?” He looked at you confused until he saw the screen himself and rushed to unmute it. 

You grabbed your sandwiches and sprinted out the door. Your brain running a million miles a minute. The whole walk back, you saw Petey’s face plastered on every surface, his name being cursed by people who once adored him.

By the time you got home, people were already crowding the hallway. It made you sick to your stomach. You fought your way through the crowd and reached for your keys. They were shoving and berating you with questions. You held up your mace (a gift from Peter you had yet to use) and angled it at the horde.

“Everyone back up and fuck off!” They hesitantly backed away enough for you to unlock the door and slam it shut in their stupid faces. 

Peter’s life went to hell in a handbasket. He was getting harassed daily by the public, and his home was under siege. You felt bad for him, knowing Beck had done more than enough psychological damage to the kid. You truly hated that man. But that wasn't enough. Now he had ruined his reputation- marked him a criminal, a murderer. And the cherry on top? Anyone affiliated with Peter was guilty as well. 

You could handle a lot. When you unblipped, and your father was dead, you were able to keep on carrying on. When your “friends” turned on you, you were able to push that aside. When you were all drug in for questioning by the Department of Damage Control, you could handle the vile things Agent Cleary threatened you with. When you lost your job at the record store, you were able to deal and took May up on her offer from before. But this…this was hard.

In your hands, you held a letter from your school. You had tried to register for classes but your account was frozen. Your email wasn’t working either. You had sent out a message from your personal email and received no response- until now. NYU claimed that due to recent events and your involvement in them, they couldn’t accept you for the fall semester. You were devastated, to say the least. This was all you had. This was the only way you knew to make something of yourself, and now, they had taken that from you. 

You decided not to tell Peter or May, knowing Peter would feel guilty. Life was hard enough cramped in Happy’s bachelor pad. So you told May you were taking a break from school and continued working with FEAST. Your heart broke every time a letter came in the mail now. You would watch them get so excited, hoping this time it would be an acceptance letter, but it never was.

You were sitting at “home” in one of Happy’s shirts and fleece pyjama pants, wielding a spoon against a lowly pint of Ben and Jerry’s in front of the TV. There was a rerun of Pride and Prejudice on channel three, and you were deeply wrapped in Mr Darcy’s monologue when a breaking news bulletin interrupted. You let out an annoyed groan before you saw what was happening. Peter was currently on the High bridge fighting a man with tentacles…

Well, this city is never boring, you’ll give it that.

You were already dressed and ready to go when you got the call from Peter to meet him at the Sanctum Sanctorum. When you arrived, Dr Strange gave you the rundown of “Peter’s mistake” and your instructions to resolve it. 

You couldn’t help as much as you wanted, you still had to work, but you made MJ promise to keep you updated. She insisted on coming up with a special code so your texts wouldn’t be unintelligible to anyone who might intercept them. You agreed, writing down some of the words you may not remember before you departed.

You were designing posters for an upcoming event when May grabbed your attention. She wore a nervous smile, one you had seen a few times. It told you that she was concerned but also, that she was about to tell you something you may not like. You warily followed her to the back, and there, in the empty kitchen, sat a man in a suit of some kind. His wrinkles were carved into his sharp features. He looks tired, disoriented...fragile even.

You sat with May as she began to ask him questions. You learned that he was from a different dimension, one where he was a villain. He explained this “other half” of him that made him do horrible, awful things. You felt bad for him when he shared with you all the things that were “missing”. Like the business that he built. Like his son. 

While you were wary, you sympathised with the old man. You can’t imagine what you would do if you were suddenly thrown from your reality and landed in one where everything was crudely similar to what you knew. Stuck between loss and lost. 

You met Peter and May back at Happy’s. After Pete gave you the rundown of the plan, you and May did your best to make sure everyone was comfortable. You watched with bated breath as he fought with Doctor Octopus to insert the new chip. When it worked, you cheered, hugging May as both of you felt a well of pride at Peter's handiwork. 

You were sage-ing the apartment with May when you heard Peter call out for you. You both came down the stairs.

“Petey?” You asked; the worry extending across his face made your stomach turn.

“What is it?” May said, casting you a sideways glance that let you know the feeling was mutual. 

Everything fell apart quickly. You went to run with May but took a nasty tumble in the hall. The building shuttered and debris fell blocking your path. 

“I can’t get through." You called through a gap in the fallen concrete. "Keep going; I’ll find another way down."

You turned down the hallway and tried another way. You found a window at the end of the hall with a fire escape. You swallowed down your fear and stepped out. The metal creaked under your weight, but you continued down. You had gotten down sixteen floors when the building shook again. You gripped the railing, praying you wouldn’t fall. You heard a clangorous sound and groans. As you looked into the window, you saw Peter crashing through the ceiling and pinned by the Green Goblin. 

You watched as he was mortifyingly pummeled. Your hand flies to cover your mouth as a horrified gasp leaves you. You feel tears building as you watch, unable to look anywhere else. Suddenly Peter shoots webs at the ceiling and uses the leverage to kick the maniac in the chest and launch on top of him. You had never seen Peter so violent. He usually used restraint when having to resort to any physicality, but he attacked the Goblin with no remorse. His punches flew quickly; you could hear each blow land. You felt a chill in your spine, but not from Peter’s display. No, what really frightened you- what really made you shudder- was the sickening cackle you heard from the man who had ruined it all. As if he was delighting in Peter’s moral descent. 

You made your way down farther, and when the building shook again, you climbed back inside. You rushed to the stairwell. You ran as fast as you could, adrenaline coursing through your veins and driving your every move.

You heard footsteps and called out, hoping it was May. You ran into her arms, and she held you firmly, happy to see you were okay. When you reached the main floor, you looked for an exit. You found a side door and pulled it open, calling out to her. When your hand grasped the handle, you saw Peter crash through the floor. You could hear Peter’s gasping for air as the Goblin taunted him.

May handed you the bag of cures and quickly pushed you through the door before locking it. You banged on the glass as tears slipped down your face. You demanded to be let back in but she kept the door locked. Her sweet smile was tainted by a touch of internal panic.

“I have to help him- you go. Get somewhere safe, and we’ll meet you, okay? I have to make sure he’s alright.” 

You watched helplessly as she ran away, further into the building, out of sight. You heard a sickening crash followed by an explosion but could do nothing from where you were. A swat team started circling the building; you heard cackling in the night air. 

Now you were walking the cold streets of New York. You had tried calling Peter, May, Happy, MJ, and Ned, but no one answered. Your stomach was twisted in knots as you wander the empty streets. How did everything go so wrong? 

You felt a deep sadness, one that wasn’t explainable. It wasn’t for Peter, it wasn’t for the situation, it was something else entirely. Like something was missing. Someone. You tried not to think about it. You didn’t know anything for sure, and you refused to grieve when you didn’t know she was gone. 

Your phone starts to ring, and you fish it out of your pocket. You feel a rush of emotions as you look at the Picture and Caller ID.

“Michelle! Oh my god, are you okay? Where are you?” 

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Got a few scratches but nothing severe. Have you heard from Peter?”

“No, no. He won’t- he hasn’t picked up the phone. We were hoping he was with you.” 

“No, I was looking for him. I- I’m worried about him.”

She didn’t say anything, and suddenly you felt bad. She was the newest to the whole “Spider-Man” thing, and you didn’t want to freak her out.

“Look, he’s probably fine, okay? He’ll answer, and we’ll figure it out. Where are you now?”

She tells you she’s with Ned at his Lola’s. 

“Okay, good. Stay there. It’s gonna be okay.”

You hang up and continue your walk. You’re not sure where he would go, but your old apartment is the only place you can think of. You’ve been walking for what felt like ages. You were sore. That tumble in the hall was no joke. But you pushed it down, choosing to focus on Peter instead. Your dear friend, your brother. You feel a rush of wind and shutter.

“Oh, thank god.” You mumble to yourself as you hear a familiar thipping, followed by a blurry mass threading the buildings around you. 

You break into a sprint to catch up, “Peter! Peter! Slow down!” 

The shadow slows, landing high above you. You can tell that he’s looking at you, so you come to a stop, catching your breath with your hands on your knees. You take a few deep breaths before looking up again.

Odd. You think to yourself. Peter would have landed and started teasing me for my lack of stamina by now. 

As you gaze up, you see he scaled the rest of the weathered bricks during your little break and is looking at you from the railing on the roof. You throw your hands up in exasperation, and he tips his head. 

“Come on, Petey! We need to talk, and I can’t get up there. You’ll have to at least come and get me!” You were pleading with him at this point. 

You had seen some footage that Jameson had carelessly broadcasted onto billboards. Peter’s pixilated defeat blown up for everyone to see- to criticize. He made sure to blame Peter for all of the casualties and damages, but something he said made your bones tremble. 

“There is only one confirmed death as of right now…”

You were worried and seconds from absolutely losing it if Peter didn’t get his ass down here, yesterday. 

You saw him start to scale down the side of the building connected to the alleyway. You made your way through the trashcans that lined the entrance before pacing, staring at the ground as he continued clambering down. He really is taking his sweet time. It always made you nervous when you watched Peter do Spider-Man things. You knew it was silly, but what if he tripped? 

You heard his feet hit the ground behind you and whipped yourself around with open arms. Just as you were about to collide with Peter, you realized it…wasn’t him. This man was much taller than Peter with a trimmer build, not quite as stocky. His suit looked more like Peter’s first real suit, the red and blue Stark Suit. The eyes were massive and stagnant. None of the comforts of Peter's suit were there. No way to tell what he was thinking.

Slowly you took a step back, bringing your arms from the side to a raised “fight stance” Peter had taught you. 

You eyed the man carefully, “Who are you?” 

He brought his hands up to the side- in a low shrug, “Who am I? Who are you? Why do you know my name?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Your name? Pretending to Peter? Really? Are you some fanboy?”

His head tilted to the side, “Pretending?”

You were getting tired of his games. 

“How did you do all that? You build the tech yourself?” You say, jerking your head towards the wall. 

He points towards the roof as if clarifying what you meant. You nod your head, and he laughs. 

“You don’t recognise me? I’m Spider-Man. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He moves his hand towards you, and you panic. 

Obviously, this man is delusional. You knew Spider-Man. Better than most- you would argue. And this was not him. What psychopath would run around in some knock-off suit pretending to be your friend? Especially now?

You threw a punch, and he easily avoided it. 

“Woah there, watch where you’re throwin’ that thing. You could have hit me.” He was undoubtedly as snarky as Peter. 

You throw another punch and grow annoyed when he dodges it again. 

“Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just trying to go about my patrol- keep you good people safe- but if you keep trying to attack me, we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Who. Are. You.” You spit through gritted teeth.

He raised his hands as if surrendering, but his tone suggested anything but defeat. “How do you know my name?”

Jesus, is this guy for real?

“I don’t know your name," you exclaim. Your exhaustion causing your frustration to reach its breaking point. "I don’t know who you are! But I swear to all that is holy: if you are out here to cause more trouble for my friend, I will end you. Right here, right now. Parker has been through enough, and the last thing he needs is some asshole running around in some janky, rip-off-”

Your hand flies to the wall. The brick is cold against your hand, as is the webbing holding it down. A chill runs through you as the masked man approaches. 

“How do you know who I am? And why are you speaking about me like I’m not me?” You don’t answer and instead stare at him, stunned.

Slowly he reaches for his mask, and suddenly you’re face-to-face with him. Your eyes trace over his features: his chiselled jaw dusted with slight stubble, freckles illuminated by the headlights of passing cars that trail down his cheeks, the firm set of his brows. For a second, you’re blown away. But then the very real doom of the situation you’ve found yourself in prevails.

“You know my name...how? I’ve never met you before.”

His expression holds more wonderment than yours. As if he's close to solving a Rubik's cube. The colours are almost sorted, and then there will be the relief of finally putting it together.

You feel vulnerable as he examines you, unsure just how much of a threat this man is. “You really think you’re him. You really think you’re Peter Parker.”

His brows furrow further, “I am.”

It clicks. You feel a little embarrassed that it took you this long to realise. For the past forty-two hours, you have been dealing with all sorts of multiversal bullshit. Maybe he really is Peter Parker. Just a different one. If villains can slip through the cracks, why not a hero?

Peter always told you that there wasn’t a thought you had that didn’t cross your face. You didn’t mean to be so expressive. You figured now that this revelation must have also been visible because the man in front of you stared in pure bewilderment. 

“Oh my god! You- you are Peter. Holy shit! Do you know where you are right now?” He looked around- a little smirk on his face. 

“The lower east side,” He says like it’s a question. 

You shake your head no before answering.

"Okay, I’m gonna say something, but it’s gonna sound crazy. Or maybe it won’t- maybe you’re used to this kinda stuff, and it’s just something crazy to us?"

His head is tilted to the side again, it’s cute. 

“I think…you’re from another universe.” His eyebrows shoot up, but you continue. 

“I think you are Peter Parker, just not mine. You see, my Peter tried to make everyone forget he was Spider-Man, but the spell got botched, and a bunch of crazy people started falling into our universe. People who knew Peter Parker was Spider-Man. Obviously, Peter Parker would also know that Peter Parker is Spider-Man. So, I think you slipped through.”

He seems to ponder your words. His hands are in his hair, and he mutters to himself as he paces. He’s at the mouth of the alleyway now, taking in his surroundings. You pull out your pocket knife (another gift from Peter) and cut yourself free of the webbing, massaging your wrist while he slowly comes to terms. 

Suddenly he whips around. His eyes are alight as he walks towards you. His hands grab your shoulders, and his smile is wide. Just as he opens his mouth, you hear it. 

“Peter? Peter! Peter, come here!”

You look over his shoulder and behind him, you see Ned and Michelle surrounded by a ring of golden sparks. The Spider-Man turns around and seems just as confused as you.

Currently, you stood in front of three Peter’s in your old high school chemistry lab. This definitely wasn’t on your "Save the World" bingo card. Currently, everyone was bickering over who was who, and who was to be called what. Your brain was hurting after the cosmic stretch that was your reality right now.

“Okay, Okay, I got it!” The three Peters stop their childish squabbling and look at you with expectant eyes. 

You point to the tallest one, “You are Peter.” 

He does a little fist pump, and you continue over the other two’s whining of ‘Why does he get to be Peter?’ and ‘We’re all Peter- that’s not fair!’. 

You point to the older one next, “Your Pete.” 

He nods, and Your Peter looks at you confused- almost wounded.

“But that’s my nickname…,” He complains. 

You shake your head slowly, a deviant smile stretching across your face.

“No, it’s not.” 

Your Peter huffs, “Uh, Yeah, it is. You always call me Pete. It’s like our thing.”

Your knowing smile grows, “Nu-uh, your nickname is Petey.” 

You watch as the other Peters begin to snicker, and your Peter’s face slowly bleeds to a crimson shade.

“I told you not to call me that.”

You laugh, “And yet I do. Always have, always will. You’re Petey, end of story.” 

He’s getting embarrassed, and you want to feel bad, but flustering your friend is one of the few joys you get from life.

“I hate that nickname! It makes me sound like a baby!” 

You tried to bite back your laughter at the irony of his complaint and the manner in which he was conducting himself.

“You were always my pobrecito,” You coo.

He scowls with arms crossed as you make grabby hands at him. “I am not a baby.”

You play up your frown- completely taking the mick now. You raise your hands, pinching his cheeks.

“Lo siento. Don’t worry, sigues siendo muy guapito.”

He swats your hands away and you laugh, “Stop saying that! I’m ‘guapo’ no ‘guapito’! I’m a man!” 

In the background, Pete tips his head to the side.

“Do you know what they're talking about?” 

Peter just shakes his head no as they continue to watch on. 

You pat Petey on the cheek, “You’re right. You are definitely a man. A man who didn’t call me last week and ask me to retie his shoes for him because ‘the way I tie it is better.’”

Petey’s blush deepened as he looked down at the ground. You rumpled his hair in victory before turning back to the snickering group. 

“Okay, now that that’s settled," you say as you turn back to the Peter's in threes, "what’s the plan?”

All previous levity is left as their faces turn stoic. 

One creepy thing you were still getting used to is how similar their facial expressions were. You just watched all three switch from Peter to Spider-Man. Men on a mission. They divvied up the tasks among themselves, discussing their particular expertise for each cure. You sat back, trying your best to understand what they were saying, but most of it flew over your head. You sat next to Ned for a bit while he ran a program beyond your comprehension on his laptop. But you grew bored- antsy. 

Petey was currently being comforted by MJ. You wanted to comfort him too, but you didn’t want to crowd him. Your gaze fell to Peter once again. Something about him was alluring to you. He was nothing like your Peter. Not really. He was tall, and his muscles hung differently on his frame. He was a bit older- something that excited you more than it should. You were counting his freckles when he looked up, locking eyes with you with a small smirk before going back to his task. You felt your cheeks warm at being caught. 

You made your way over, feigning nonchalance. “How goes it?”

Peter lifted his goggles, “It goes well. I finally got the Resazurin synthesis to dissolve, so now, I can bind it to the Barium-Hydroxide, and infuse the Dinitrogen Monoxide and Acetamide solution so the Ammonium Perchlorate is stable within the compound.” 

You nodded your head dumbly, “Yeah, that’s- that’s good.” 

He chuckled, “Okay, so you’re not a mega-nerd. This multiverse thing is weird.”

You laughed as well. “Yeah, like, you’re Peter, but you're not like my Peter. You’re cooler, handsome-er.” 

Peter’s smile grew as he leaned against the workstation. “I’m cooler and handsome-er?” 

You rolled your eyes, hoping to distract from the warmth you felt on your cheeks. “Yeah, but you’re just as cocky. I guess that’s part of the Peter Parker Package.” 

You felt exposed under Peter’s gaze. “It seems teasing wit is a (Y/n) (L/n) Essential as well.”

His statement intrigued you, “You have a me?”

He looked away, fiddling with his contraption. “Yeah, she was nothing like you, though.”

You leaned against your hand, your elbow propped on the table, and he chuckled.

“My (Y/n) was my best friend. Her dad was a top scientist at Oscorp. Harry, (Y/n), and I were inseparable. She was nice, but you're definitely ‘cooler and handsome-er’”

You chuckled at his mirroring of your words before. Something about Peter made you want to know everything about him. You were enchanted by him. 

“What’s your favourite food?” Peter looked at you confused but relented after gazing at your sweet smile. 

“Kugel.” You ask him what it was, having never heard of it before. He explained it, and you realised this wasn’t a multiversal misunderstanding. 

“You’re Jewish?” Peter nodded, an unsure “yeah…” leaving his lips. 

You looked to Pete, who was pretending not to eavesdrop. “Are you Jewish?” 

Pete said that he wasn’t and continued working on his cure. Peter looked surprised as well but shrugged it off. “What’s your Peter’s favourite food?”

You scrunched up your nose at the thought, “Pickles.” 

Peter laughs, and you continue.

“No, really. He loves them. I remember when he was younger, and I would babysit him, I had to make sure he stayed out of the fridge ‘cause he would sneak ‘em. Once, I found him behind the couch, wrist deep in some Claussen's.” 

Peter laughed with you at the memory, “So, you used to babysit the other Peter?” 

“Please, call him Petey.” You smiled, “But yeah, I’m two years older than him. I used to live across the hall from him and…”

You hesitated to say her name, the loss still fresh. Peter seemed to understand, his eyes sincere. 

“Were you close?” You let out a sigh, taking a glance at the broken boy on the other side of the chemistry station. 

“Yeah, she was like a mother to me. It was just me and my dad, and she- she was kind. I’m kinda an orphan too now.”

You hadn’t really gotten a second to grieve. Tonight had been a maelstrom of events, and your focus was on Petey. He was carrying so much, and you wanted to be there for him; you could grieve later. 

“I’m sorry.”

It was a simple phrase, one you hated, really. Years of being friends with Petey would do that to you. He was always apologising for things out of his control. You immediately want to say “not your fault”, something you would say to Petey on an almost daily basis, a knee-jerk reaction to the phrase. But you bite your tongue and thank him instead. 

“I’m more worried about him. He’s- he’s been through a lot lately. Everyone hates him, thinks he’s a murderer. He lost Ben and Stark, and now…he’s lost May. He’s so young, ya know? He hasn’t even graduated high school, and already…” You sigh, your heart breaking for him. “I wish I could take some of the weight off his shoulders, ya know? I love him.”

You found yourself staring at the young couple across the way. Their heads rested together. It was sweet, though it burned just a tad. You didn’t have that, and you wished you did. Someone to tell you that even when the world is falling apart, they are with you- you’re not alone. Someone to love you, to hold you, to kiss it better. You loved that Petey finally had that. MJ was good for him. 

“You have someone?” You both turn to look at Pete, his age lines wrapped around his slight frown. 

“No. I got no time for- uh- Peter Parker stuff, you know?” Peter’s countenance twisted into curiosity, “Do you?”

Pete made a face, “Uh, that’s a little complicated.”

"No, I understand.” Peter wore a sympathetic smile, “I guess it’s just not in the cards for guys like us.”

You felt conflicting feelings of excitement and dismay at Peter’s response. 

On the one hand, the guy you were quickly crushing on was available. That’s a plus. However, you were sad that he didn’t have someone “back home.” On the rooftop, he spoke of his lost love, the one he couldn’t save- Gwen. Your heart broke for him then, and it shatters now. You imagine great loss is also a part of the Peter Parker Package. It pains you to think he’s written off a chance of romance, of love. You allow yourself to daydream for a moment of being that person for him, but only for a moment. He has to return; his universe needs a Spider-Man. You couldn’t be that for him even if you wanted to. 

“Well, I wouldn’t give up. It took a while, but... we made it work,” Pete reassures.

“I mean, who knows? Yesterday the multiverse was just a crazy pipedream theory, and now we’re living it. If there’s one thing being Spider-Man has taught me, it’s that life can be crazy and unpredictable. Nothing is off the table.”  

Pete’s eyes fall on you as he says the last part, and you feel like you’ve been caught. Was it that obvious you were crushing on the tall man beside you?

You hoped he was right. You hoped that, maybe, you could be with Peter- somehow, some way. You locked eyes, and there was something in his gaze, a deep secret you wanted to unravel. His eyes were craters on Demios, and you were drifting into his gravitational pull. 

“What about you? Do you have someone?” You blinked dumbly, your brain rebooting. 

“Yeah, no. No, I, uh, don’t have anyone.” Peter graced you with a lazy smile. 

“I find that hard to believe.” A breathless laugh left your chest as you broke away from his gaze. You felt like cellophane; he could see right through you. 

“I mean there have been people…in the past. But none of them- yeah. I don’t have the best luck with love. Petey was the only decent fellow I dated.” You chuckled at the thought, missing the way Peter’s smile tensed. 

“You and Petey, huh? Do you still…?” You saw how his eyes had saddened and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. 

“Oh, no. No, no, no. We were in high school and thought we should try it, but…we’re definitely just friends. He uh- he wasn’t the right one.” Peter raised his eyebrows.

“The right one?” You shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah, we didn’t really fit. He wasn’t the right man. Or maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he was the perfect man, just the wrong version.” 

Peter looked at you, that subtle smirk returning. “Yeah, maybe so.” 

Your lingering gaze was interrupted by Ned calling for Peter, making all Peters look in his direction. You groaned at their pointing and confusion.

“Dios Mio! We’ve been over this! Pete, Peter, and Petey.” 

Ned cringed, “I’m not calling him ‘Petey’. It feels wrong.” 

You grumble to yourself about the pointlessness of labelling them if no one was going to use the titles. However, you didn’t get to dwell on it long. The cures were done, and now it was time to act. Now they were preparing for battle. 

Taglist: @actuallypeterparker, @andrews-lovr, @barbecuetiddy, @cherriescherriesred25, @heejinw0rld, @ilovemoonknight, @Isshecrazyorissheclever, @preciousbabypeter, @purple-amaranthe, @raajali3, @rudy-the-winged-wolf, @scorpiolystoned, @tayswiftlovebot, @wannapizzamymindposts, @whoreforklitz,

[twistednuns]

September 2024

Being the first one up in a quiet house. Sitting outside journalling, enjoying French sea salt butter and passion fruit jam on toasted pieces of baguette. The view of the sea. Painting, reading, a nap. Vacation mode.

The familiarity of it all. The house, the area, the people.

Snorkelling in Les Issambres with C. Trying to snatch away stones from octopus tentacles. Hanging out on the SUP together. Many cute kisses here and there (C. was in a very good mood).

Learning to communicate a little better. Slowly, slowly.

French supermarkets. The greedy first day haul.

Working on a mixed media painting which turned out useful for Trypophobia exposure therapy. I kinda like the depth of it though and the interesting shapes I created.

A chubby restaurant cat called Patate at Pampelonne Beach. I secretly call her Chonkita. She was very happy about my scritches!

An amusing sight: the lady in St. Tropez who was walking through town with a pack of about ten tiny dogs.

Little intimate moments with C. Analysing my friends and my relationship to them. Also: the realization that a chapter is closing. That I'm ready for something new that'll be so much more what I need.

A trip to Grasse. Walking through the medieval old town, visiting the perfume museum, shopping at Fragonard (I got a hand-marbled oversized shirt in earthy colours). Iced cappuccino with flower petals at Café Fleur. Eating a rich and delicious Galette in Fréjus.

The gorgeous light and shadow pattern on all of us when we were having drinks at the beach.

Driving through the back country to eat at a fabulous little restaurant by the sea. I had a three-course-menu: summer truffle burrata with roasted nectarines, zucchini filled with black olive tapenade (with puree, breadcrumbs, chickpeas and salad) and a delicious pistachio semifreddo with balsamic prunes.

Getting everything I want at the supermarket so I have a few kitchen souvenirs that'll make me smile when I think back to this summer.

Strawberry-flavoured sparkling water. The Maison Perrier x Magnetic Juice water in strawberry/kiwi is such a delight.

And, a final delight on the way back: a large cappuccino and a box of tiny Pocket Coffees at Autogrill.

Desperate measures after a weekend hiding in bed, trying extra hard to pretend not to exist: an evening at Therme Bad Wörishofen with Manu. Drinking a strawberry cocktail in the warm pool. Talking, no pretense.

The jay (Garrulus glandarius) I keep seeing behind my house. I just looked up its meaning and apparently it's connected with accepting responsibility for yourself and mustering up the courage to master a hard test. There are so many signs reaching me at the moment. Teachings about personal responsibility in the Gestalt therapy book I'm reading. Instagram bombarding me with messages about Eclipse Season and that something old has to go in order to make room for the life I've always wanted. It's slowly starting to sink in but I'm still so afraid. Stuck with my insecurity, between different needs and feelings. Inside a contradiction between safety and sensibility on the one hand, taking a risk and stepping into freedom and my full potential on the other.

A hit of nostalgia when I heated up the milk for my cereal. It was soggy and disgusting but reminded me of my childhood.

Realizing that I've never seen the last season of The Umbrella Academy!

I have very cute and supportive friends. Who tell me how talented I am and that something better is waiting for me at the other end of this crisis.

Making a decision. Seeing psychiatrists. Informing my headmaster. This is the beginning of a transformation and it's not gonna feel nice for a while but I'm sure it'll be worth it. I'm excited about what comes next.

Little trinkets: a glass bottle with a round wooden lid, a green glass candlestick holder, and a yellow T-shirt.

Spending a few days at Christian's place. Staying in my comfort zone. Honest communication and support.

Baking a buttery mirabelle cake. Sharing it with a few neighbours at the garden table.

Feline affection: The orange cat who was waiting for me outside the doctor's office. All that crazy Findus energy. And cuddling with Charlie who was sleeping inside the little blanket fort in the garden.

Going on a little bike tour through the forest on a beautiful afternoon with golden light. It smelled of moss and mushrooms. And I couldn't resist squeezing a few Impatiens seed pods, of course.

Reading a great book about the origin of Gestalt therapy. Analyzing my own process.

Spending an afternoon in Munich with C. and L. We went to the Archeological museum and Haus der Kunst where we had a snack at Goldene Bar and then I saw the exhibitions alone. Of course I found an interesting book about Marina Abramović at the bookstore there.

Productive procrastination. Observing myself in my avoidance of hard tasks and difficult feelings. Self-compassion.

Finding a small book about sleep, dreams and the night on a park bench. Cutting out poems and illustrations.

Birthing a chestnut from its spiky uterus.

Meeting Madeleine, a Gestalt therapist who works with somatic techniques, voice and breathing. I felt seen and I think we have a very similar approach to healing. She said that self acceptance might be something she could help me with. I'm curious and excited about working together.

Primavera Energiekick spray. It smells so good. I got it in an esoteric store after my first Gestalt Therapy session along with a tiny golden Om ornament. A few houses down I also discovered a little Indian shop and got two pictures of Kali/Durga. My last treat: three stalks of yellow and dark red Chrysanthemum.

My first meditation in a while. I actually craved it. I looked into the mirror, moved my hips, felt the need to turn inwards and connect with myself. I felt gratitude, joy, safety, confidence. Now I'm trying to reprogram my brain to get rid of my negativity bias and addiction to suffering.

Being helpful: translating something for a Chinese family at the supermarket. And forgetting about myself for a moment to be there for others: genuinely caring for Lucie, asking about how she felt after her cold - and leaving it at that. Not forcing my own problems on others for once.

Back on track: returning to yoga and choir practice after the summer break even though I already had two appointments in the afternoon.

Waking up energized with a desire to move.

Making coconut rice pudding with chunky mango cubes.

A vision that came to me during savasana: a cluster of luminous white diamond shapes and sparkles against a dark background. I wonder if I could paint what I saw or use it as inspiration at least.

Visiting Becki and Janina in Augsburg. A staredown with their cat Leo. Their gorgeous apartment and the tea book that Becki co-authored.

An evening dedicated to tantric rituals at Lachdach Pling. It was different than expected but a lovely event nevertheless.

Cat therapy. Having Findus lying on my chest, purring. It feels so soothing and nice.

The sickly summer lilac I planted in Christian's garden actually started to bloom again!

[bardic-perdita]

20, 26, 27, 29, 30 for the tav asks! (as usual, for all the fellas :> )

Thanks for the asks! The never-ending wall of text returns, despite my best efforts to summarise XD

Answers under the cut:

Breoch

20. What is their relationship to touch? Do they shy away from it? Do they need it to feel present?

Breoch craves touch, but is initially very wary of it. Unless he's given implicit permission for a person to touch him, any unexpected touch would be perceived as a threat and his body reacts instinctively. That reaction might be as subtle as him jumping aside or more aggressive like throwing an ice knife in someone's face. He could never be too careful in Menzoberranzan.

Once he's comfortable though, then he will seek out physical affection. He'd find excuses to press into a person's side, or rest his head on them. Most people are warmer than him, so he finds that warmth comforting. The more stressed/anxious Breoch feels, the colder his body feels, so being hugged by somebody warmer really does help him to relax.

26. Give us one of your Tav’s secrets!

Kind of following on from the last point about touch, but Breoch has a secret 'off switch'. If somebody he trusts scritches his ear just right, then he will instantly fall asleep. Not just an elven trance, but a properly deep draconic sleep. Whether he wakes up in 8 hours or 3 days depends on just how tired he is.

27. What is the worst thing they’ve ever done/said to someone they love?

Where to start! Breoch has done and said countless terrible things to the people he loves and especially those that love him. The latter years of his relationship with Varna was full of such things.

If you were to ask him what he thought was the worst thing he'd ever done, he would say it was not telling his family where he was going on the day that he died. He never told anybody about Varna, no matter how many times his brothers questioned him about his strange injuries or long absences. To his family, Breoch was still mourning the death of Yen and then simply vanished...for 100 years. They assumed he was dead, but there was no way of knowing. Breoch doesn't cry easily, but thinking about what his family went through during that time would truly break him.

29. What fears keep them up at night?

Varna scrying on him and knowing how to find him. Also, being discovered by Varna and subsequently captured. The thought of becoming nothing more than the necromancer's puppet terrifies him more than anything.

30. What does your Tav want more than anything?

To be loved in the way that his parents love each other. It's simple really, but he was blinded by ambition in pursuit of it.

Shrike

20. What is their relationship to touch? Do they shy away from it? Do they need it to feel present?

Shrike does enjoy touch, though they do shy away from it. Not just because of 'The Urge', but they also just don't know their own strength. After accidentally breaking one of Wyll's fingers when giving him an overenthusiastic fist bump, they try to be more careful.

They adore hugs though, especially really tight ones. Shrike and Karlach would spend a lot of time hugging once she's able to touch people again. Halsin would be a close second.

26. Give us one of your Tav’s secrets!

Despite being very charismatic, they are a terrible liar. Shrike hates lying under any circumstance, even though rationally they know that sometimes lies are necessary. Any situation where they need to lie is far more stressful than any enemy they could ever face.

27. What is the worst thing they’ve ever done/said to someone they love?

Unlike most other durges, Shrike's adopted mother is still alive and well. They've always had enough self-restraint to resist killing their mother— their love for their mother fuelled their initial paladin oath after all. But the worst thing they ever did was hurt her, both physically when they were younger under the influence of their urge and later emotionally if she was to ever learn what became of the sweet child that she had raised.

29. What fears keep them up at night?

Accidentally/unconsciously hurting the ones they love.

30. What does your Tav want more than anything?

Shrike just wants to experience some peace. At least, until they get the desire to take up their paladin oath again and venture out to save others just like them.

Zeke

20. What is their relationship to touch? Do they shy away from it? Do they need it to feel present?

Zeke loves touch and is quite touchy-feely himself. He quite often pats people's shoulders or grabs people's arms as just part of his usual show of friendship. He will hug just about anything and anyone that will let him.

He has an awful habit of not really paying attention which tent he clambers into at night, so most of his companions have had a very snuggly, very sleepy Zeke nestled in their bedroll at least once.

26. Give us one of your Tav’s secrets!

One of Zeke's biggest secrets is that he's able to keep a secret at all. The simplest explanation for this is that his adoptive father/warlock patron is very intrusive, and will modify his memories to make him forget unpleasant things.

For more ramblings, I've gone into more detail here and here

27. What is the worst thing they’ve ever done/said to someone they love?

Zeke is also a bhaalspawn, so he has murdered a lover before. Fortunately, he doesn't remember doing it.

29. What fears keep them up at night?

Zeke's biggest fear is being abandoned. So much of his early life was spent completely isolated and neglected. He never wants to feel that lonely again.

30. What does your Tav want more than anything?

The opposite of his fear— to be surrounded by so much love and affection. To be known and cherished by his family, his friends, and his beloved purple wizard husband.

[girlwiththepapatattoo]

The Unlikely Similarities Between Kittens and Vampires, Chapter 11

Warnings: Astarion being himself, a couple suggestive moments, trauma talk

Summary: Some words of wisdom from the newest member of the group, and then later on a party of two.

Notes: I hate editing, but at least editing got this chapter to a place that I like. Enjoy everyone! <3

Read on Ao3 here!

Previous Chapter | First Chapter

A soft breeze ruffles the plants along the path down to the water. The early morning sun beams gentle light down over the earth, sparkling off the river’s deep teal surface. Warming, too, the glossy black fur of the tiny cat that lies on the edge of an overhang just above where the water laps at the end of the path. Bright hazel eyes look out over the water’s path, the kitten’s little chin resting on her paws. 

The sudden scraping of a boot on stone behind her makes her leap up and into a ready-to-flee position, but she immediately relaxes when she sees it’s just Halsin. He lifts his hands as he approaches. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says softly. “I saw you run down here like the hells were after you. Wanted to make sure you’re all right.” 

As he sits down next to her, his long legs dangling off the edge of the rock, he can hear her start purring just a little. It makes him smile. I’m all right, she says, her words filtering through the magic of his speak with animals spell (that he never really turns off). 

“Glad to hear it,” he replies, leaning back on his hands. “What were you running from, if I could ask?” 

She’s quiet for a moment, before sighing and sitting in a loaf position next to him. I got embarrassed.

“Hm. About anything in particular?” 

He glances down, seeing her stiff posture, her little tail twitching in the dirt. …thank you, for last night, she says instead. 

“No need for that, my friend,” he murmurs. “Astarion didn’t need the nudge as much as you did, I think.” 

I…think you’re right, she says softly, sounding frustrated at herself. I know there’s nothing wrong with…with sex. It’s a natural thing. But…up until last night and this morning, it was a natural thing that didn’t happen to me.

“New things can be scary,” Halsin agrees. “But was the fear worth it?” Almost immediately, she breaks out into a purr so loud he’s not sure how her little body can produce the sound. He can’t help but laugh, reaching out and giving the top of her head a little scritch. “Good! I’m very glad that it worked out so well then. But that doesn’t explain why you were so embarrassed you ran all the way out here.” 

She tells him what had happened, what Astarion had said to the cleric. I know logically that the rest of the group were going to find out eventually. Especially if he and I um…indulge in camp again. But I’d been hoping that it would have come out, say, around dinner, when I could have had a hand in the conversation. Not…like that. And what he said… 

He chuckles softly, his warm eyes watching the water flowing downstream. “I think Astarion was lashing out defensively, little one. He didn’t appreciate being interrupted with his new lover. And, as he has the razor-sharp wit to let someone know when he’s displeased, well…I’m certainly not surprised he said something like that.” 

That’s…a really good point. She heaves a tiny sigh. I need to learn to stop running away every time I’m embarrassed like this. I just get so overwhelmed…I wish I was bolder, like Astarion is.

Halsin laughs, loud and long. “I’m sorry, I’m–ha–I’m just picturing two Astarions in camp. Oh, the chaos…” Sable can’t help but giggle along with him. Then he sighs and looks at her seriously. “Being bold is a fine thing, my friend. But never forget that you’re you. Learn from these new experiences at your own pace, and those who know you, truly know you, will care for you regardless of how bold you are.” He smiles faintly. “I’m sure that’s why Astarion hasn’t come looking for you. He figures that you want some time alone to process.” 

There’s a flash of golden light, and when it fades Sable the woman is sitting next to him, smiling faintly. “I think you’re right. About…about all of it. I’ll try and be kinder to myself.” 

“Good,” he replies, content with her answer. “If anyone deserves kindness shown to them, it’s you.” He stands, offering her a hand up, which she takes. “Now. I believe we promised our friends some mending spells. Shall we go find them?”

“Oh! Yes, let’s go!” 

Feeling much better about what had happened earlier, Sable walks beside her new friend, happiness swirling in her heart. 

A happiness that only grows once they reach the group and she sees Astarion, sitting on a wooden crate, bent over his sewing. The morning sun lights up his profile, turning his curls into a halo of silver. His long, slender fingers handle the needle deftly, neat rows of stitching appearing in the fabric, hidden where they need to be hidden. His lips are parted ever so faintly, the tip of his tongue held very gently between his fang and regular canine tooth. 

So caught up by the sight, she doesn't notice Wyll stepping up beside her, a soft smile on his lips. “Someone’s a little love-struck,” he murmurs softly, and she immediately blushes, tearing her gaze away. 

“That obvious?” she asks, smiling weakly, and he chuckles. 

“Yes, but it’s not a bad thing. I’m glad for you.” He pauses, then sighs and lowers his voice even more. “Just be careful. You’re a very sweet woman, and he’s…well. I wouldn’t see you hurt, let’s put it that way.” 

Sable’s immediate reaction is to scowl at him. She wants to snap, it’s plain on her face, wants to tell him that his judgment is as wrong as it was with Karlach. Instead, she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I get it. But…he’s not just the way he presents himself,” she says, and though she keeps her voice down, it’s full of confidence. “I appreciate your concern, I do. But I…we’ll be fine.” 

“For your sake, I hope you're right.” He gives her shoulder a pat and moves off, his leather armor in one hand and a small bag of tools in the other. 

Sable shakes her head, annoyance swirling in her gut. She knows they mean well, but it’s also not like she can just blurt out what she knows about him to change their minds, either. He’s let her in, and no one else. So she’ll have to grin and bear the comments. 

Though, she thinks as she crosses to him, if they get too annoying I’ll just shapeshift. Then they’ll have to bear it. Literally.

Astarion looks up as she approaches, and she sees the difference in his posture immediately. His shoulders relax, his eyes fill with fondness, and his smile softens out a little. “There’s my darling kitten,” he all but purrs, shifting over on the crate to make room for her. “I was wondering where you’d run off to.” 

“Sorry,” she says softly, sitting down and leaning her head on his shoulder. He blinks down to her in surprise–this is positively bold for her. “Got a little overwhelmed, but I’m okay now.” 

“Good,” he murmurs, and he leans over and brushes a kiss over her forehead. “I’d figured you needed some time to think.” 

“Yeah. Thank you,” she murmurs, unable to stop the smile from curling her lips. 

“Oh? For what, darling?” He looks back down to his sewing, and she watches his wingers weave the cloth together. Looks like one of Gale’s shirts. 

“For understanding me so well already,” she replies softly. 

His fingers pause for a brief second, before continuing on. “Yes, well, you’re not exactly hard to read, kitten,” he teases gently, and she huffs, though not really offended. “But you’re welcome. If you need space, you need space. All you have to do is say so. Or, you know, turn tiny and run, that sends a pretty clear message.” 

She can’t help but laugh, quickly smothering it behind her hand. Then Lae’zel is coming over with some armor covered in dings and dents, and her hands glow a soft blue as she starts mending it. 

////////////////////////////////////////////

The celebration party is in full swing. Sable’s lost count of how many people offer their thanks, or sing her praises (once literally, in the case of the bard Alfira), or offer her drinks which she politely declines. A couple of her new friends are very much enjoying all the attention. Several have made themselves scarce, and she wishes she could do the same, honestly. 

She finds Astarion near his tent, a bottle in hand and a grimace on his face. “After all we did for them, you’d think they’d offer us better wine,” he says to her, just a little of the grimace lifting in her presence. 

She shrugs, smiling as she steps up to his side. She doesn’t touch him, unsure if, after all the socializing he’s been nearly forced to do, he’d welcome the contact. She itches to put her arms around him, though… “I wouldn’t know about wine, Astarion,” she says softly. 

“Not much of a drinker, hm?” he asks softly, and to her delight he winds his own arm around her waist. He smiles faintly as she all but melts into him, laying her head on his shoulder. “You’re lucky in this case. Damn stuff tastes like vinegar.” 

“Is it really that bad?” she asks, a little disbelief cutting through the contentment. 

“Have a sip yourself.” He offers her the bottle, watching as she lifts it and takes a sniff. Her nose wrinkles at the smell, and he has to fight the urge to tell her it’s one of the cutest things he’s ever seen. She takes a very small sip and immediately spits it out. “See? Awful.” 

“Ugh, is that what all alcohol tastes like?” she gasps, wiping her mouth. “Why even bother?” 

He laughs faintly. “Gods, no, not all alcohol tastes like that! Once we’re back in Baldur’s Gate, I’ll take you out somewhere nice. We’ll get you a cocktail that tastes like delectable fruit juice, but will knock you right onto that cute little ass of yours.” 

As he’d hoped, she turns red and gently swats his chest. “Astarion!” 

His mood thoroughly lifted, he snickers and lowers his head, nuzzling gently against the scabbed over bite marks on her throat. “Yes, my sweet? Did I say something wrong?” 

She shivers, her eyes fluttering closed as she feels him gently lick at one scab. “N-Not out in front of everyone!” 

He huffs softly. “Darling, everyone is so thoroughly sloshed right now that no one’s going to remember this. Buuuut, if it will make you more comfortable, how about we go somewhere more private?” 

She looks up at him as he straightens, that little smirk she likes so much on his beautiful lips. “I…I’d like that.” 

The smirk deepens, and he lifts her hand, brushing a lingering kiss over her knuckles. Her heart skips a beat as his eyes darken. “Well then. Let us venture into the night, my sweet.”

Mouth dry from his words and that simple touch alone, she lets him tug her off, deeper into the Grove and away from the party. They wind up underneath a tree near the river, higher up than where she and Halsin had their talk earlier that day. Astarion sits and leans up against the tree, and when she hesitates he quirks an eyebrow and points at the spot between his legs. 

This man is going to kill me, she thinks, but sits down between his splayed thighs and leans back against his chest. “There we are,” he purrs into her ear. “Nice and cozy.” 

She sighs and relaxes as his arms wrap around her waist. “Very cozy…it’s nice to be close to someone.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” he murmurs, brushing his lips over the tip of her pointed ear and making her shiver. 

“A-Astarion…” She tilts her head, away from his distracting mouth to meet his darkened crimson eyes. “We don’t…have to do anything like that tonight, if you don’t want to. I actually want to check in on you, make sure you’re all right after this morning.” 

He stares at her. No matter how often she asks, he’ll never be over it, never not appreciate her concern for his own well-being. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to her lips, before pulling away. “My sweet, you’re too good for this world. I’m…” He stops himself. He was going to just say that he’s fine, that there’s nothing to worry about…but he doesn’t want to be flippant with her. Not with her. 

So he really thinks about it. Reflects back on how this morning went, how it makes him feel. 

It had been…different, with her. There were still moments, of course, moments where flashes of unease, of something akin to disgust raced through him. And he would have to remind himself that he was with her, not a mark, not a victim. He was with her, and her pleasure mattered to him, and not in a predatory way. 

She matters to him. She matters to him. Oh, how quickly his kitten has wormed her way into his long-dead heart. No one was supposed to matter to him, other than himself, but his feelings for her were inescapable now. He smiles softly, almost ruefully. Leave it to the softest person he could ever imagine to get under his skin. 

“I’m…good,” he finally says. “Quite good, actually. I won’t lie, there were…moments where I was uncomfortable.” Her face drops, and she opens her mouth, no doubt to ask why he hadn’t expressed that at the time. He presses his fingers gently to her lips to silence her. “But I felt safe to continue. I knew that if I’d said something, you would have stopped immediately. And…darling, you’ve no idea what that means to me.” His hand cups gently around her cheek, his thumb stroking over her soft, freckled skin. He smiles, soft and gentle, and he hears her heartbeat speed up. 

Her eyes go over-bright, and her smile is just a little wobbly. “Good! Good, I…Gods, I’m so relieved!” 

“Were you worried about it all day?” he asks softly. 

“A little,” she admits, gently taking his hand and lacing their fingers together. “I…” She blushes faintly. “I’ve realized, between last night and this morning, that…sex with you is literally the best I’ve ever felt in my life. And I can absolutely see myself getting…quite addicted to your touch. But even if I’m, well, ready to go, if you don’t want it, I want you to tell me so. I don’t want you to just…force yourself.” She takes a deep breath and firms her gaze. “If it’s not good for you, it won’t be good for me.” 

He stares at her. His heart is filling, aching in his chest, and instead of words he buries his face into her neck and squeezes her tight against him. She smiles, understanding, and holds her lover just as tight, listening to the gentle wind in the trees and the distant sounds of the party. 

She knows that she doesn’t need to go back to the accolades tonight. The gentle kiss he presses to her pulse point is all the praise she needs.