#when should I plant cucumbers?

[ssa-dado]

30 Seconds

triathlon!Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: SMUT, pre-relationship mutual pining and just a touch of ♫ LOATHING, UNADULTERATED LOATHING ♫ Summary: You text the hot swim dad for legal help. He shows up in khakis. You try to behave. You fail. He's accidentally jealous of your date, you accidentally grind on his lap, he finishes in his pants, and somehow it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to you. Warnings: SMUT MDNI (heavy makeout, dry humping and *sighs* Aaron creams his pants for just that... the title is descriptive enough), age gap, cuss words, hint of the vile act of female masturbation *pearl clutch*, objectification of the Hotchner body Word Count: 4.9k (damn gurl) Dado's Corner: Based on this request! And... um... full disclosure... I added the glasses part solely because of the cat pic sent by @hotchology, who said this ginger furball is how they imagine Hotch in glasses (LOOK HOW CUUUTE)

masterlist(s)

Everything showers.

A sacred rite of modern womanhood.

Takes minimum two geological eras to complete, consumes half the planet’s fresh water, and must be repeated often to remain an eligible mating partner.

Because that’s the whole point of being a woman, isn’t it? To be clean, hairless, glowing, and vaguely vanilla-scented - just fuckable enough for men who think 3-in-1 shampoo counts as skincare.

The concept of an everything shower is… layered. Part hygiene. Part penance. Part psychological rebirth. A full-body cleanse for the sins you haven’t committed yet.

You’ve done them before first dates. Before almost-dates. Before parties, dick appointments, emotional breakdowns, and that one Tuesday when you just needed to check in on her-

(Her. Down there.)

Once, you even did one before visiting your mother. (Unclear whether that was for survival or atonement. Maybe both.)

But never - not even in your darkest, most masochistic imagination - did you think you’d be doing one because of an eviction notice.

Not until today.

Because Aaron Hotchner - a man who should be both physically and emotionally unavailable due to his very, very, veeeery important job saving the world - is apparently not unavailable.

Not when it matters.

Not when it’s least convenient for your nervous system.

…The irony.

All it took was one stupid text. A momentary lapse in dignity. Something he’d probably refer to as “compromised judgment.”

do you happen to know a very cheap lawyer asking for a friend

And instead of his usual three-to-five-business-days reply time, he hits you with:

aaron hotchner (work, no nudes): Are you at home now? – A.H.

And now you’re just a bit overthinking… because how does he know that?

Did the FBI install a secret camera in your pothos plant? Does he have access to some satellite heat map of your apartment? Has he been watching your window? A camera in the air vent?

(Has he seen you trying out that new clear dildo in front of the mirror for “science”?)

(The one time you tried doing yoga and got stuck in child's pose for 40 minutes?)

You don’t know. You don’t want to know.

All you do know is that you are currently fully naked, shaving for a man who:

Has no idea he’s being shaved for, while you’re on speakerphone with him, as he gets closer and closer to your building block because he invited himself into your private space and-

Would absolutely turn around and disappear if he ever caught even a hint of cucumber-scented shaving cream (you borrowed from your roommate) and realized you'd… prepared for him.

Because your “just in case” implies premeditation. And premeditation implies intention. And intention? Intention is basically foreplay.

And foreplay is strictly prohibited outside the sanctity of marriage, a psychological clearance form, and at least three signed affidavits from HR.

He would enter WITSEC on the spot. Change his name. Grow a beard.

(Hot.)

“What’s happening? Are you alright?”

He concernedly asks over the phone - totally unaware (definitely unaware) that every time he checks in on you, he’s poking your very well-buried, very latent daddy issues with a stick.

(Or maybe he keeps asking because he’s the one with daddy issues. Very obvious ones. That classic parented-child energy. Raised himself on black coffee, moral obligation and emotional regret.)

What a match, really. You get off on being cared for, and he gets off on taking care of people he’ll never emotionally open up to.

Soulmates.

Anyway-

“So… my landlord is an asshole and I really hope he gets some very painful hemor-”

Mr. FBI has the audacity to call you by your full legal name before cutting you off with, “This call is being recorded. I’d appreciate it if you refrained from making…” he even pauses, searching for the most delicate phrasing. Because God forbid he doesn’t sound like a morally burdened Disney princess. “explicit threats.”

Oh, you’d appreciate a few things too. Like having his actual number and not the one issued by the United States Government - so you wouldn’t have to worry about scandalizing some poor technical analyst who’ll be forced to transcribe this call word-for-word the second they find his body in a ditch and trace it back to you.

(“Exhibit B: She said, quote, ‘I hope he gets some very painful hemor.’”)

…But you’re not as childish as him to complain about that.

“My bad.”

“It’s alright.” (Can he please stop talking like this?)

“Yeah… I-” Your voice trips. Your face is hot. Your entire body is hotter. “The thing is-”

“I’m listening.” Oh, fuck him. (Please.)

“In short: the building’s falling apart. We’ve been emailing the guy for weeks, complaining, begging, threatening – nicely - and either he forgets to reply or says he’ll fix it and then doesn’t. It’s been an eternity and he still hasn’t done a single fuc-”

Recorded line. Recorded line. God forbid the man has a seizure because of you. “-thing.”

You hear a chuckle on the other end.

You hate phone calls.

You’d choke him if he weren’t safely boxed inside a moving vehicle.

“I said threats. You can curse. I’m not ten.” Oh, he’s smiling. You can hear it. The smug bastard.

“Oh, that I noticed.”

You love phone calls.

If he were here, he would've already hit you with one of those signature stares - intended to intimidate, but really just making you want to lick the corner of his mouth out of pure spite.

But look at you. Free. Untouchable. Doing amazing.

“The thing is, I didn’t pay rent this month. Because they’re still ignoring the repairs. And now they’re threatening to evict me if I don’t pay.”

“That’s retaliatory. It’s illegal.”

“Wait… you’re telling me I’m not screwed?”

“No, they are. You withheld payment due to unaddressed health and safety violations. That’s protected under landlord-tenant statutes,” he says, suddenly shifting into full legalese, something-something code 572, subsection blah-blah, tenant rights, lease clauses-

You don’t hear any of it. Actually, the very second he started speaking fluent Law Daddy, , your brain slammed the emergency brake to focus on the real crisis:

What the fuck are you going to wear.

“Document everything-“

Lace? Bold choice, but post-shave? Masochism. Granny cotton briefs? He’ll never look at you again.

“Photos.”

Tight top, no bra? Risky.

What if he hugs you and feels how obnoxiously hard your nipples are?

(He’s not a hugger. He doesn’t seem like a hugger. Right?)

(Right??)

(But what if he is today?)

(What if he walks in, sees you - top clinging, no heating - and suddenly decides: You know what? Now’s the time. Now’s the moment I become a hugger. Just for her. Just this once. Just to pull her in close, pretend it’s chaste, press his palm between her shoulder blades and - oh fuck - realize it’s not.)

(What if he hugs you and feels it?)

(What if he hugs you and keeps hugging you?)

(What if he grips tighter, his hand slides just a little lower, and his voice does too, right by your ear - “You’re not wearing a bra.”)

(“Neither are you, sir.”)

(And what if that hug turns into a grind, into his thigh between your legs, into lift me onto the kitchen counter and show me what else you know about tenancy law.)

“Emails.”

Loose top, skimpy bottoms? Slutty. Strategic. Respectable slutty. He’d stare at your legs all night.

(He wouldn’t. But you’d know. Which is worse.)

You should lather in coconut oil, just in case.

You should lather in coconut oil anyway – hydration is important to avoid ingrowns (and yes, to smell edible too.)

“Timestamps.”

Tight top, no bra, skimpy bottoms? Too much? Too “I can’t pay the plumber, but maybe I can offer something else...”

(Not that you’ve watched those. Obviously. You’re just… aware of the trope.)

(Not because you spent 30 minutes the other night trying to find the perfect one. And then another 10 skipping the plot because it was too unrealistic, there’s no way the plumber just happens to have lube.)

(Not that you wouldn’t do it for him. But you’re also not going to lower yourself to being a badly lit, lazily scripted fantasy for the male gaze.)

“…If you haven’t already, I’d recommend drafting a written complaint.”

“…Aaron, I don’t even know where to start,” you mutter. “That’s why I asked if you knew a very cheap lawyer.”

“I’m the very cheap lawyer.” For some reason he chuckles, probably it’s because of his own joke, “Don’t worry, we’ll do it together, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

He is not there in fifteen.

He’s “there” after fourty-eight minutes - flustered, apologizing, muttering something about I-395 and a jackknifed delivery truck, which is just adorable, really, coming from a man who’s clearly never taken the bus in heels while bleeding through his jeans, juggling three leaking Trader Joe’s bags, and re-evaluating every life decision since birth.

He’s grumbling about “infrastructure,” all furrowed brows and moral outrage. How sweet.

You, meanwhile, are Frenching the entire Department of Transportation.

You are giving gridlock the kind of wet, eye-contact blowjob that wins awards - because, for once in your adult life, the universe delayed a man just long enough for you to become a person.

Thirty-eight glorious minutes to shave, moisturize, hide the evidence of your emotional instability, light a candle, panic about the candle (too much?), blow it out, light it again (fuck it), rearrange your throw pillows, Febreze your loveseat, and clean your floors so well you briefly consider serving dinner off them - or yourself.

(Also enough time to change outfits four times, reject each one violently, and land on something that screams “Oh, this? Just threw it on,” while whispering: “I shaved everything.”)

You’ve never been more grateful for civic failure.

You look good. Your apartment looks good. You know it smells amazing in here. You know it. You can feel the Pine-Sol particles sparkling off the hardwood.

Any second now, he’s going to say something about it.

He’s going to inhale – deeply - and ask what detergent you use. Compliment your lavender baseboards.

You can feel it coming. You’re ready. You smile. You bask.

Aaron sets down his bag. Unclips it. Opens it. Looks up.

“I printed out the tenancy statutes,” he says, already pulling out an aggressively highlighted stack of documents from the briefcase.

And this would be impressive - should be impressive - if he weren’t wearing a plain black T-shirt that is doing things to his arms. And the khakis. Fucking khakis.

The most indecently decent pants in the entire male wardrobe.

They whisper "suburban dad," but scream "accidental bulge in soft daylight."

Speaking of which, unfortunately, your apartment lighting has never worked harder - midday golden-hour haze bouncing off every freshly scrubbed surface, casting soft shadows and sensual gleam until finally it settles on The Situation.

…Shit.

(Do not look at it.)

(Do not acknowledge it.)

(Do not mentally calculate whether that’s just the way his pants fold or if that’s his dick pressed against the zipper like it also has a clause to deliver.)

(Do notice, however, that he still hasn’t said a single word about how nice your apartment looks. Rude.)

“I flagged the key violations and I added notes on a recent amendment that strengthens your case - you can reference it in your response letter.” His eyes scan the room clearing it for hostiles - except all he really sees is your loveseat. Small. Soft. Close.

And you, in a tank top.

He clears his throat. Adjusts the folder. His gaze flicks back to you – quick, sharp, and immediately redirected to something safer, like the floor.

“Where… should we get set up?” he asks, like he hasn’t already mentally measured the loveseat twice, logged its exact dimensions in his brain, and is currently laser-eyeing the very cushion he’s dying – dreading - to sit on.

“Oh, I don’t know… wherever you’re comfortable.”

He nods - just a touch too seriously - then hesitates. Again. Checks one more time, with those painfully polite eyes: Can I...? Is it alright if...?

(…As if you might suddenly revoke loveseat privileges.)

Then, slowly, he lowers himself onto the cushion. Perches. Occupies the absolute minimum amount of space humanly possible.

If he still had the joint mobility of his youth, you’re convinced he’d just origami himself into a respectful little one-inch cube and tuck into the far corner.

You glance at his shoulders - very broad, deliciously broad, yes - tense, but more at how hard he’s trying not to brush them against yours. What a funny man.

Especially funny because while he's typing up your official letter - like a good little lawyer - he's also letting the conversation drift into a completely unrelated side street.

Unrelated except for the fact that it's all about you.

Like how he “casually” mentions he hasn’t seen you at the pool lately.

The one where he trains and you sit in a cracked plastic cafeteria chair pretending to wait for your friend’s aquatic therapy - when really, you’re mourning every second you’re not legally tethered to the hot dad at swim practice. The hot dad who doesn’t even know he’s the hot dad. (Him. Obviously.)

You go for your friend. Technically.

Spoiler: she’s got two weeks left.

Which means once her sessions are over, you and Aaron will have absolutely no logical reason to ever speak again. No built-in excuse. No default setting.

And now there’s a looming, mutual thing neither of you are acknowledging.

You’re sure there’s a term for this. Something about large mammals afraid of mice and metaphor.

“Yeah, I was in the lane next to your friend’s the other day…” he starts.

“Really?” You pretend you didn’t get fourteen missed calls from said friend, who - when you finally called her back - didn’t even say hi. Just launched straight into: “Burgundy swim cap guy looked up at your seat three times. Three. He looked so sad you weren’t there I had to explain where you were so he wouldn’t drown in longing.”

“Yes… we talked for a bit. She seems very nice…”

Ah.

Interesting choice of words, considering she told you – verbatim - “I can’t believe someone built like a brick shithouse could be that pathetic.”

(She has yet to understand that that is the whole appeal. Him. And that exact contradiction. Him and that-)

“So… how did… your date go?” he asks, pretending to be casual. He’s polishing his glasses against the hem of his shirt, even though they’re already spotless. (You weren’t even aware he needed glasses. Probably neither is the rest of the planet.)

He keeps at it. Rubs one lens. Then the other. Then back again.

You wonder if he’s trying to distract himself. From the question. From the answer.

Your date.

The one that made you miss your friend's call. The one you actually went on. The one that-

“It went well, actually.” It did. Way too well. And that’s the problem.

Because you keep chasing Aaron.

Despite the very obvious fact that nothing will ever happen between you. Because he’s… well, him. And you’re…

A little too young. A little too broke. A little too you.

(And technically if you do the math, you’re closer to his son’s age than his. Just by a few years, sure, but still. Still enough to justify it to yourself out loud, then say it again. And again. Until it starts sounding like a fact.)

It’s just a harmless crush. A stupid little thing. A flicker. A fantasy. A hobby, really.

You have so many of those - men. Smart, emotionally unavailable, vaguely haunted. You collect them like parking tickets: Useless. Repetitive. Always showing up when you least need them. But you keep them. Stack them in a drawer somewhere in your head.

Just in case.

Still, there’s something about this one.

About him.

Aaron.

Aaron in wireframe glasses, almost making you believe in the higher powers he believes in too. (Hopefully not the United States government.)

Aaron with that voice, that jaw, that posture.

Aaron, who says things like “landlord-tenant statute” and somehow makes it sound better than the poetry in those overpriced, niche little books you only buy for the cover, the ones where the author hits enter every four words so it tricks you into thinking they mean something.

And maybe – deep, deep down – it’s because you want to be proven wrong. That someone like him could find goodness in parts of you you’ve already declared a lost cause. That he could look at all the rot and still see something worth saving. Or maybe it’s just easier. Easier to chase something you’ll never catch than turn around and face the things already standing still, arms open, waiting to love you back.

“I’m glad to hear that,” says Deliciously Four-Eyed Aaron, just a little too tight. Tighter than his khakis, which shift and pull every time he readjusts to keep from getting a flat ass on your loveseat.

(What’s wrong, Agent Hotchner? Not expecting it to actually go well? God, you hope that’s why his jaw looks like it’s about to file for divorce from the rest of his face.)

“I don’t know him well,” he adds, clinically. “But… he seems like a nice guy. He’s good at his job.”

Right. Which is rich, coming from the man who literally handed you the guy’s number. And now he’s playing coy?

So what was that, then? A random act of kindness? A stroke of pity? Was it projection? Was it a fever dream?

Did he just reach into the FBI rolodex and go: “Hmm. You’re not under disciplinary review, you own slacks, and your blood pressure is normal. Here, date this emotionally volatile woman I know and I think you might like - she has opinions and abandonment issues, enjoy!

Because Aaron doesn’t do spontaneous. Aaron does strategic. Aaron does 48-hour surveillance and triple-signed documents.

He’s not the guy who improvises. He’s the guy who rehearses his improvisation.

So forgive you if you’re just a little confused by Mr. Times New Roman over here, trying to mentally trace the logic that gets you from “I barely know him” to “you should definitely let him finger you. Only after marriage, though.”

It’s weird. And yet, somehow, that’s not even the most annoying part.

“Good at his job?” you echo, with a laugh that sounds way too close to a cry for help. (Of course. Of course that’s Special Supervising Whatever-the-Fuck Hotchner’s metric for male compatibility. Not empathy. Not emotional availability. Not even basic social literacy. No, job performance. What a catch.) “What are you going to say next, that he’s a good person because he clocks in early and doesn’t steal breakroom coffee?”

“Well,” he says, adjusting his glasses that did not need adjusting, “I can’t vouch for the coffee. But I do see him arrive on time. From my office. If that’s what’s concerning you.”

…Oh. So that’s what this is. We’re flexing now.

Mr. I Have A Window. Mr. I Oversee The Peasants. Mr. Private Office While Everyone Else Plays Hot-Desk Musical Chairs. Mr. Title, Tenure, and a Chair That Supports Both His Spine and His Reluctance to Feel. Mr. I Deserve This Square Footage Because I Ruined My Marriage for the Federal Government.

(You could go on. And on. And on. You won’t. But you could.)

And it’s not even clear who he’s trying to one-up here. The guy he set you up with? Or… you? Both?

Like, “Yes, he’s punctual. Yes, he’s nice. Yes, he’s good at his job. But I define what good is. I’m his boss. Be impressed by me instead. Please. I beg you.”

Okay. Breathe. Relax.

No one invited him to a pissing contest and yet here he is, unzipping his intellectual fly right in the middle of your living room. (Not the fly you wanted unzipped, unfortunately.)

You squint at him. “So what, you show up before everyone else just to watch your little ducklings waddle in behind you? Mother Goose clocking in before sunrise to lead by example and assert dominance?”

He turns toward you. Tilts his head. Makes that face. The one you’ve been craving since the second he walked in.

Eyebrows drawn, mouth slightly open - just enough to spot that one crooked tooth, bless it - an expression that says concerned, confused, and disappointed in your tone, all in one.

“It’s none of that,” he’s dead serious, even if he’s visibly smiling… marvelous. “It’s just respectful to be on time.”

Sure, Agent Hotchner. Tell yourself that while polishing your Employee of the Decade plaque.

“I barely even see my boss at the café. Twice a week, tops. And only after we open.”

Aaron lifts his eyebrows. Shrugs. “I’m not an asshole.”

Then he goes back to typing, pretending he’s not biting the inside of his cheek like the whole thing didn’t get to him.

Like he’s completely unbothered by the idea of some man buying you coffee and making you laugh for two full hours.

Like his knuckles aren’t just a little too tight around that trackpad.

“You know, for someone who just said he’s not an asshole, you sure spend a lot of time trying to prove how much better you are than other men.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” he says, softly. Too softly. Like he knows volume would give him away.

And fuck, those eyes.

You can’t look at them too long. You bounce between his face and anything else - your coffee table, the printout, his lap (unfortunately) - because those glasses are giving him four eyes now, and all of them are aimed at your skull, dissecting every micro-expression.

He's a bit suffocating.

“I think what really bothers you,” he says, measured, "is that you’re used to being misread."

You scoff. “Excuse me?” (Bitch.)

"You act like you want to be chased, but only if it feels reluctant. If it's earned. You push people to see if they’ll push back. You turn it into a game because it’s safer that way. If it’s a game, you can pretend you were never serious when they walk away."

Well. Okay. First of all: Rude.

Second of all: Accurate. Horribly accurate.

But also: How dare he.

"And if they don't... if they try to meet you where you are... you push them away first. Just to prove you were right to be afraid" he says - and the bastard even smiles. (Fuck his dimples. Really. Pretentious as hell.) "You punish them for it… and you punish the ones who don’t play, too. Because deep down, you still don’t know which would hurt more."

"Wow," you never thought you'd actually be speechless, and yet - here you are, scrambling for a comeback. Great. "Good thing you said you weren’t trying to prove anything. Otherwise I might’ve gotten confused and assumed you were just showing off." (Good enough. You’ll take it.)

Smarty-pants chuckles under his breath then leans back against your very professional, very structurally unsound loveseat. His knee brushes yours.

You pretend not to notice. He pretends he doesn’t notice you noticing.

"Not showing off, just telling you what you already know."

"Oh, right, because you’re such an expert on me."

"I’m just observant."

"And arrogant." And a fucking hypocrite too.

"And you still looked at my mouth twice." What a who-

Somewhere between your brain screaming full bitch slap, full bitch slap and your hand almost twitching to deliver it… you miscalculate.

You lean in. And instead of bruising his cheekbone, you crash your mouth against his.

Pride - and the stack of feminist books judging you from the bookshelf - insist it’s you who moves first. You believe them. You have to.

Even though his hands are already there - rough and steady, drowning your face in their grip - before you even finish breathing in your half-ounce of courage. Before you really even choose anything at all.

(But sure. Go ahead. Call it empowerment. You’re totally running the show. Girlboss shit.)

You want to bite him. Sink your teeth into that smug, diagnosing mouth. Split his lip. Make him bleed all over the living room he still hasn’t bothered to compliment the smell of. (You’re not petty about it… it’s just an observation.)

But it’s slower instead.

You taste his nerve first, his fear right after.

He’s already halfway to pulling back even as he keeps kissing you - trying to have it both ways - and for a second, you do break apart.

Both pretending you could still undo this. (And also undo all the bullshit he said earlier, profiling you so hard he didn’t even realize he was accidentally outing himself too.)

It doesn’t last.

You crash back into him, sloppier, mouths dragging, missing, gasping, half-kissing, half-clawing at each other as you’re both a little too desperate to land properly.

For a split second, the kiss turns... almost sweet. Tender. Romantic, even.

You could say he’s a good kisser.

You could say he’s a great kisser.

You could say he’s the only man alive who could kiss you stupid and still find a way to remind you to breathe through your nose.

(Like when he notices you getting lightheaded and somehow fixes it without even pulling away... which, not gonna lie, is a little humbling.)

But there’s no time for critical analysis. You’re already shoving him flat onto the loveseat, pinning him down, while he blinks up at you - wide-eyed, flushed, so beautiful it makes your chest hurt.

(And he looks so... concerned. As if he’s realizing just now that there’s absolutely no dignified way to get out of this alive.)

(Good. He shouldn’t.)

There’s tongue.

There’s teeth.

There’s his hands – everywhere - gripping your waist, sliding under your shirt, squeezing the backs of your thighs, pushing your leg higher over him until you can feel - Oh. Oh, he’s hard. He’s so fucking hard.

There’s a muffled noise from the back of his throat that sounds suspiciously like please and you are not thinking about that right now.

And it’s-

God.

It’s filthy. It’s great.

You grind down hard, whimpering shamelessly into his mouth, and he bucks up into you, meeting you halfway with both hands locked around your ass, squeezing so rough you’ll be wearing fingerprints by tomorrow.

(You hope so.)

(You really fucking hope so.)

He helps you move –

Up.

Down.

Slower.

Harder.

Guiding your hips with just enough pressure to make it feel like it’s your idea, finding the rhythm you didn’t know you needed until he gives it to you, forcing you to ride the thick, hard shape straining against his pants-

Just the right angle. Just the right friction.

So perfect it catches your clit every single time, knocks a gasp right out of your throat, straight into his mouth.

You’re soaking through your panties. You’re shaking with it. And it clearly gets to him - God, it wrecks him.

You can feel it - the way he tenses under you, the way his hands clutch harder at your ass, the way his cock throbs against you through the fabric like he’s just barely holding on.

He bites down on your bottom lip, rougher than you expect. Too rough for a man who apologizes when he says fuck.

He holds it between his teeth, sucks it – hard - humming low and filthy against your mouth, so obscene it makes your hips stutter.

Drop.

Just enough to let your soaked cunt drag across the swollen head of his cock.

And when you grind back, slower, tracing right along the thick ridge straining against his zipper, he chokes on a breath.

“God, fuck-”

It tears out of him, raw, as if he’s almost embarrassed by how much pleasure is tangled in it, by how stupidly sincere it comes out of his mouth.

(Also, thank God he didn’t reverse it. If he’d said “fuck, God,” instead, you’re pretty sure he would’ve stopped everything, dropped to his knees, and asked you to drive him to a confessional. Not even a metaphor - actual church. Actual guilt. Actual “forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”)

He tilts his head back, groaning, neck arching against the pillow - exposed, gorgeous - and you completely lose it.

Your tongue drags over his throat, chasing the pulse hammering under his skin, tracing your way back up to his mouth.

He’s so hot. He’s so good. He’s-

…terrified.

"I'm so sorry," he breathes, suddenly sitting up on his elbows. “I-” 

He fumbles. He panics. He stands. Backs away from the couch. From you. Visibly blushing. Visibly mortified.

“I didn’t mean-“

He doesn’t finish the sentence...

…Because he finished in his pants instead.

Poor thing.

You should be a little cruel about it - he was an asshole earlier, after all - but you’re not quite mean enough to kick a wounded 6’2” puppy when he’s already limping. (No pun intended… or maybe-)

"Hey," you murmur, reaching out, curling your fingers around his wrist so he can’t backpedal any further. He flinches. (Not much. Just enough to make you want to kiss him again. Harder this time. Until he flinches worse.)

"It’s okay. It’s-" You almost say sweet - catch yourself just in time, because you’re not trying to get murdered tonight.

"It’s normal," you settle on instead. "It’s flattering. Honestly.” (Also kind of hot. But you’ll take that particular confession to your grave.) “You didn’t... ruin anything."

He still doesn’t look convinced. At all. In fact, he looks like he might apologize again, maybe even draft a formal statement and notarize it.

You scramble. “It’s not a big deal, seriously. Who cares if it was-” (You hesitate for half a second, fatal mistake.) "-like, 30 seconds? Could've been 29, right?!”

…Right.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @goorgeousz ; @hayleym1234 ; @ignoreeeeeee ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mmmunson ; @mxblobby ; @nikt-wazny-y ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softtdaisy ; @softestqueeen ; @thatkidofwarandpeace ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24 ; @who-needs-to-sleep

(I might've missed someone this time, pls tell me in the comments if your name got lost AAAA sorry in advance)

Little reminder that the requests for fleabag!reader are open!! Ok.. I'll go now. Bye.

[fuckingrecipes]

Do you have any healthy snack suggestions for someone who isn't a huge fan of nuts and dried fruit?

FIRST: A 'Snack' is just a small portion of food. It is a signifier of quantity. 'Snack' does not exclude any type or form of food - it just means a lil' bit of food.

SECOND: "Healthy" is entirely relative to every individual.

'Healthy' is just 'Supportive of a complete nutritional profile, taking into account a person's existing diet, dietary needs, and habits of energy expenditure'

For example:

A small, greasy hamburger is an EXCELLENT snack for a highschool athlete who needs to consume an large amount of calories every day to maintain their body. It has lots of fat and protein for muscle recovery and long-term energy, carbs for immediate energy, and some lettuce/tomato/onion for some extra fiber/vitamins/minerals.

On the flip side, if someone already eats a fair amount of of meat and carbs already but has a lower-energy lifestyle, a healthy snack for them might entail leafy greens, beans/legumes and vegetables, because they need more fiber and nutrients in their diet that plants have in abundance.

--

If you are allergic to or hate eating something, then it's not healthy to force yourself to eat it anyway. Find a different food, or a different way to prepare it that doesn't cause physical or psychological distress!

Don't like peanuts, but peanut butter is good? Eat peanut butter instead! Hate the texture of whole tomatoes, but tomato sauce is good? Eat tomato sauce instead!

Don't be afraid to finely mince or blend your ingredients into a sauce or smoothie if you feel you need or want to eat something for the nutrients but hate chewing it.

--

I'm a big fan of probiotic stuff in general, like fermented foods (kimchi, pickles, sauerkraut, miso, mustard and yogurts), since a strong bacterial colony in the gut has a positive impact on wellbeing for most folks. More importantly, I love the taste.

Buuuuuuuut~ some people are extra sensitive to compounds that are concentrated in fermented foods. Those people should not eat a lot of fermented foods. It's not healthy for them.

--

If you're munching snacks out of boredom when you're not actually hungry, something low-fat but satisfyingly crunchy usually does the trick for me. Something I can keep devouring for the sensory delight, gives some good nutrients, and won't make me feel overly full afterward.

Carrots, bell peppers, mung bean sprouts, apples, pears, jicama, radish, pretzels, sweet onions, green papaya, broccoli, popcorn, cucumber, water chestnut, seaweed crisps, coconut chips, any of those fermented foods I mentioned... hell, coleslaw is mostly cabbage with oil and vinegar - plow through that and have a great time!

--

If you want a snack because you're hungry, but you just want to tide yourself over until the next meal, eat something that is high in fat and fiber. Fat & Fiber makes you feel full.

Cheese, Yogurt, Butter. Olive oil. Guacamole. Tinned fish. Cream. Fry up an egg. Olives, Hard-boiled eggs - These are all relatively high in fat.

Beans, Legumes, Oats, Leafy Greens, and most Berries are pretty high in fiber, and can pair up with any of the fatty things.

Hell, a slice of cheese pizza is also fine! Buttered toast is fine! A small portion of roast beef from last night's dinner!

Eat a little bit, wait 20 minutes, and see if you're still hungry after that. A normal stomach takes 20-30 minutes to register feeling satiated. (Some people's stomachs don't really feel the difference of hunger vs satiation. Those people need to be more mindful of the quantities of food they eat - both eating too much, AND eating too little!)

--

If you want a snack because salty snacks in particular sound fucking amazing, but other fatty and high-protein foods sound kinda gross, Try chugging a glass of water.

If water doesn't resolve the feeling after giving it a few minutes, try something with salt.

Dehydration and not having enough salt in your body both cause salt cravings. Acute thirst is often mistaken as hunger.

Honestly, you can have a handful of chips. Eating a whole family-sized bag of potato chips in one sitting is probably too much salt & fat for most people, but eating a handful here and there is fine. It's just as morally neutral as eating a carrot.

Eat some rice with soy sauce. Eat some pickled okra, or pickled onions. Eat some miso soup. Drink some soup broth. Have some salt-cured meats.

--

So: A Healthy Snack!

Ask yourself: Am I hungry, bored, or thirsty?

Ask yourself: What have I been eating lately, and what has my diet lacked, or had in excess? (Fats, Protein, Carbohydrates, Vitamins/Minerals, Water, Salt)

Ask yourself: Am I trying to provide my body with a complete nutritional profile, including fats and carbs - or am I focusing on an imagined 'purity' of food and assigning moral value to eating what diet culture calls healthy so I can be 'good.' (Aka: Do you think instances of eating candy or fatty food is 'being bad'? Stop that.)

Ask yourself: Am I able to rely on my body's signals for hunger and thirst, or do I need to manually track this?

Sometimes a snack is a small portion of leftovers from yesterday.

Sometimes a snack is carefully sliced, cooked, and arranged on a cute plate.

Sometimes a snack is gnawing through half a head of cabbage doused in vinegar.

Sometimes a snack is a handful of shredded cheese eaten from your own palm so you become both the gentle horse and the stablehand feeding it, and that's all okay

[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: Silliness IV

Jerk Ford's behaviour was way worse while he was in the multiverse because while he was in his own dimension, Stan was there to keep him from going too far, and to mediate his interactions with other people when it came to important business.

Once he fell through the portal? Completely unrestrained.

Here's a small list of some of things he's done across the multiverse:

Un-sunk the mythical City of Atlantis to get back at a 'sh*tty tourist company'

Lifetime ban from all Space Waffle House locations across time and space for inciting a riot because a waitress kept calling him 'honey'.

Had someone legally assigned to permanent Cosmic Jury Duty.

Sowing the seeds of an extremely invasive and fast-growing varient of cucumber all over a large city in the Cat Dimension.

Not giving his two weeks notice at Space Hooters.

Infecting a galaxy-encompassing digital records archive with a virus that changed every third noun with the word 'dick'.

Invading a weed farm on a parallel Earth and replacing the 'mother plant' that all of the other weed plants were cloned from with a strain of marijuanna thats identical in every way, except it produces no THC.

Impersonated one of the Bounty Hunter versions of Ford so he could fake his own death, collect the bounty for himself from the Ford Hate Club, crash the party they threw to celebrate, and then slip away right as the real Bounty Hunter Ford showed up to report that he'd failed to capture Jerk Ford.

---

Remember how in a reverse portal what-if Jerk Ford told Fiddleford he would blow up the planet if he didn't help him rebuild the portal? And Fiddleford called his bluff?

Imagine you're Bill Cipher, and an oddly calm Stanford Pines tells you that in three days, he's going to blow up the Nightmare Realm with you in it.

So you laugh, because he's bluffing.

Two days later, it turns out he wasn't bluffing about blowing up the Nightmare Realm with you in it.

He was bluffing about giving you a third day, because he's a jerk like that.

---

Boss Music? This guy isn't much of a fighter, he isn't a boss fight. It isn't hard to finish a fight with him because he's impossible to beat in a hand-to-hand fight - he isn't very strong compared to most versions of Ford Pines- it's hard to finish a fight with him because he's slippery. He's just going to escape and run if he doesn't think he can win.

If I were to give him a theme song or something, it'd probably be Dangerous by Jorge Rivera-Herrans. Mostly because of the "I have to get home" sentiment.

You have to ignore the fact that he didn't actually get himself home, just like canon Ford his brother had to fix the portal to bring him back.

Bro was at least trying to get back home.

Here's a Jerk Ford Playlist by @tearosepedall:

---

Actually, the reverse portal scenario doesn't go quite the way you think it does.

Jerk Ford has to pretend to be Stanley. A school teacher. A resident of society that Gravity Falls actually loves. When he's been an active menace to society his whole life.

Stanley gets shoved into an unforgiving multiverse full of monsters, demons, aliens, and versions of his brother who project their resentment and anger towards their actual twin onto him instead as a proxy.

And they both ask themselves: "What would my brother do in this situation?"

Anyways, this is what happens with Stanley:

And this is what happens with Jerk Ford:

---

Fun fact: Jerk Ford is the reason there's no gnome queen.

While he was studying the gnomes during his researcher years in Gravity Falls, he discovered that the Gnomes only had one female, who was their queen by default.

Anyways he talks to her about how her greatest ambition in life shouldn't be having a hundred husbands and being barefoot and pregnant forever. No, her greatest ambition in life should be being one of the greatest hat models the world has ever known.

Anyways now she lives in New York, she may or may not also be a drug lord in the pixie dust cartel.

Soos, Mabel, and Dipper tried asking the mail box questions once.

It sent them a really long, angry, rambling letter starting with "What the f*ck did you just f*cking say about me, you little b*tch? I'll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals,"

Later on Dipper asked Ford about it, and he reveals that he traumatized the entity on the other side of the mailbox by sending it the question "is your refrigerator running?" every day for almost six years straight.

[arsonisticscholar]

Disciple Shen yuan au, but he transmigrated as a pre/early arc reader of pidw. Say in canon he transmigrated at like 22, if pidw was written over the course of a couple of years he might be in his late teens. Innocent pre cucumber era where he had high hopes for pidw and hasn’t totally been stomped down by health issues and frontal lobe development

This is heavily inspired by Sy’s temp transmigration system because it’s a great fic and I love it but I can’t get it out of my head of what if situation is basically the same exept he hasn’t read pidw yet

Maybe he realizes he’s in a book, maybe he even realizes it is pidw (still in early stages, MAYYBE became more mainstream recently due to the start of the abyss arc) based on just seeing things online. But he doesn’t have the same biases about what the characters should be like or the foreknowledge of all the native life

I’m torn between him being the only Shen yuan there so there can be disciple bingyuan or to make cumplanes relationship more interesting by putting in not only another transmigrator, not only one that doesn’t know the world, but one that is literally the (to them, sy would kick anyone who called him this) child version of the most beautiful intelligent cunning bordering cruel wife of the emperor that lbh and sqh have gotten to know

Not only that, but I think it would be really funny if without the bias towards binghe as his blorbo since he hasn’t read pidw yet takes one look at lqg and is just standing in shock (UUUGGGHH FEED MY MULTISHIPPING TENDENCIES) but you cannot tell me he wouldn’t have a big fat crush on him. I think it would be really funny if he also is automatically drawn toward lbh and I think he would be absolutely ecstatic about it but would prob get scared away by their pda after like a week and a half

I also think it would be soooo funny if bingyuan end up adopting teen sy and find out about it and approach him like ‘you are NOT dating that BRUTE’ or some shit and he’s like huh?? Wdym?? I just think he’s really cool for when he saved me that one time and when he let me fly on his sword and gave me a cool fan and also I like watching him train and he’s just objectively pretty anyone would admire a face like that how could I not but Id never want to date him he’s a guy!?!? I’m an ally but I’m obviously not gay??? And bingqiu would just sigh and shake their heads and try to keep him away from lqg

And I think it can also be an interesting point of introspection like if I never met binghe would I really be with lqg? If I didn’t get to shizun first would lqg have stolen him away from me? I think on sqq’s part like so much of what sy does is a source of (first hand? Second?) embarrassment because ohh wow I was an annoying kid or oh my god why is teen me staring at him so much this is embarrassing I have a husband what does this say about me. And for binghe it can become a place of insecurity like if I never came along I’d this how it would end up if I never made it out of the abyss what if shizun leaves me for lqg has shizun ever thought of him that way what if what if what if what if

And i think sy would have an interesting relationship with sqh if he was still in the process of reading the early arcs when it was still mainly exposition and he’s already gotten a taste of the plants and monsters and plot set ups but it hasn’t gone downhill yet into fan service. He would totally gush about how much he’s interested in the story and share his theories and hopes for it and they might even end up brainstorming for another book for sqh to write together. And I love the idea of sqh not only being older post transmigration but also pre like he was a full adult when he STARTED writing and sy was a teen when he started reading and sqh just has the realization of ‘wow I was like 26 beefing with a high schooler online’ but also the fact that sy LOVED pidw pre fan service like you don’t stick with such a long and shitty story if you weren’t obsessed with it at some point. And I think it would give sqh a new perspective on sqq’s criticisms and upset about how it went. Yeah, he chose to keep reading, but he chose that because he had faith in the world airplane created and the character he loved.

He would like immediately out himself as a transmigrator because he went to the new kid ceremony thingy overheard cumplane being dumb and had a really obvious reaction bc wdym these two fantasy men are talking about miku in English in public out loud like what is happening here so they catch on to that, sqq accepts him as his disciple and the three of them have tea together and their interaction goes something like

*all sat at the low table in the bamboo house*

Sqh: so you’re a transmigrator

Sy: uhm I guess so

Sqh *to sqq*: psst Shen yuan bro (or something clearly Shen yuan) say something

Sy: how do you know my name!?!?

And that’s how they find out sqq and sy are the same person they eventually figure out timeline and stuff and sqq is like oh my god this is a child but also child me without pidw knowledge I need to keep him away from any trouble including plot, kidnappings, dangerous beasts, and mystery plants and obviously the most effective way to (not) keep him safe from this is adopt him BINGHEE COME HEREEEE we’re adopting this one now also remember how I came from a different world yeah this is technically me when I was a teenager before I read your story so he has no knowledge of this worlds dangers or customs we must protect him at all costs binghe locks eyes with him and the internal monologues are going in completely different directions binghe is cooing and brainstorming ways to booby trap the house so he can’t leave and sy is just gazing into his eyes like wowww what an objectively handsome guy yk his muscles are very big his hair is very big his eyes are very big,,,, I want to BE him I def don’t want him I want to BE him,,, gym goals fr,,, then he asks who he is and lbh’s like ‘oh my qingqiu’s husband 😊’ and sy just passes out on the spot

I also get the vibe that he would not be a very horny teenager like he might catch himself looking once or twice but I mean sqq didn’t really care about the porn in pidw so either he’s very particular or he’s very time and place so I don’t think his inner monologue for pretty people would be as body oriented as sqq’s is. I also want him to take a liking to yqy since he’s just like his older brother back home and sqq is like ‘no get away from this bad man’ and sy is all ‘but he’s so nice to me 🥺 he doesn’t mean bad’ like bro doesn’t know the lore also he would maybe not quite wifebeam but he would endear himself to like every single peak lord immediately.

I like to think he’d keep his body p much plus dianxia robes And the story is that bingqiu found a magic plant and made a plant son using bingqiu qi or something idk so that’s why they not only suddenly have a kid, a kid that looks similar to sqq and acts pretty similar to him but has no idea about anything in the world. These people think he was born yesterday and they might as well be right with how little he knows about the world or it’s customs

This is all I got for right now but feel free to expand on this or write it because I am a shit writer and boy have I been craving this

[forlorn-crows]

Mountain finds a really rare and complex plant sitting in his greenhouse with a note from a secret admirer. Said secret admirer is observing from their hiding spot hoping the seduction technique Pebble recommended works

jimothyyyyy. i got the stupidest idea for this while eating dinner, so here you go <3 happy valentines day!

"So, uh . . ." Mountain chuckles a little, cocking his head. "I take it this is supposed to remind me of you?" The earth ghoul unravels the orange ribbon from its bow around the pot. "Or, a certain part of you?"

Ifrit's grin is as wide as his face. He bounces on his heels, pleased with himself and his gift. "Yep!"

The gift in question is a small potted cactus. Not just any cactus, of course--it's rather smooth for a normally prickly plant, more cucumber-like. Rounded and full at the top, extending down with the same width (or, should Mountain say girth) until it reaches the soil. There, a few spikes do extend from its base, but its overall even texture is far from usual.

The plant's odd silhouette greeted him when he entered the greenhouse just a few minutes ago, placed prominently atop his workbench. The simple gray pot was tied with a silky, orange bow, and a little tag dangled from the side. Even from many feet away, Mountain could see slanted, sharp handwriting in black ink, which could only really have belonged to a select few ghouls.

Mountain had traced along the lines that run vertically down the body of the plant, shaking his head when he finally realized what they--and the full plant--really resembled.

Didn't help that a barely-audible snicker gave away his spying secret admirer when the earth ghoul's finger ran back up to the top of the cactus and caressed the indent at the top.

Trichocereus bridgesii monstrose. A slow-growing cactus that forms tall, cylindrical shapes with bulbous, rounded 'heads'.

Also known as the penis cactus.

"Did Dew help you pick this out?" Mountain asks now, thoroughly amused.

"Nope."

"Aether?"

"Nee-ope."

The earth ghoul blinks at Ifrit. "Don't tell me Zephyr helped you."

He shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't . . ."

Mountain sighs, glancing at the cactus and back at Ifrit. "Well. They do love your cock, so . . ."

"Guilty as charged," Ifrit grins, holding up his hands. "You do like it, though?"

"Your cock?"

Ifrit's grin fades, but only because he sighs, fake exasperated. "No, the plant, Mount," he scoffs.

"I quite like both, actually." Mountain gives him a quite charming shit-eating grin of his own, pulling the fire ghoul in for a smooch. "Thank you for the gift. Even if it was purchased in attempt to make me want your dick every time I see it."

Ifrit hums against his lips, reaching down to grab at Mountain's ass a little. "Mm, does it make you want it now?"

Mountain huffs a laugh, giving him a full, deep kiss before pulling away again. He sits at the workbench and slides the cactus over, looking between it and Ifrit thoughtfully. "Hm. Maybe. Persuade me."

Ifrit sticks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and wiggles his hips. Just barely sliding them down so those damned hip vees come into view. He smiles, cheeky. "You wanna compare?"

aaaand just in case anyone needs a reference for this magical cactus:

[littlewigglers]

Okay I’ve never asked on tumblr but I just found your page and I’m OBSESSED!!! I want to get/make a Vivarium/bioterrarium for millipedes and isopods and I can’t WAIT!! Please please if you have any advice at all, I’d love to hear it! Where to get supplies, the buggies themselves, how to handle them, what do you do if they get sick, how much space to they need for how many there are, etc? Your buggy babies are so cute!!

First off thank you! I love all my little guys as well <3

I ramble kinda a lot so I'll put this under a read more.

For advice I'm still very much a novice when it comes to keeping but I'll tell you what I can!

For tanks I got my glass ones second hand or ones made my the store I buy used to buy my millipedes from, you'd be surprised how cheap you can get a nice big one! For Acrylic THESE are the ones I've had the best luck with not warping BUT they sometimes have kinda blurry parts on the plastic, but still I'd say good for the price if you can't afford glass. I tape up some of the ventilation holes to keep more moisture in.

For soil that ISN'T bought from a specialist stores(Sometimes I can't afford it) I use Peat free compost, paired with leaves and rot wood I buy off ebay stores that sell bug/reptile products, I mix them together with some water and leave them in a tub for 1 week to soften up the leaves. Some people go out and get their own leaves and wood but I'm not really in an area to do that so I can't give advice on that. It's important to keep it moist BUT NOT WET!

Heat mat! You want one to put on the SIDE of the tank and not under it, just one would be enough. I have a timer plug for mine so they're on a few hours a day on and off all day. If you REALLY wanna spoil them then I've seen a few people use reptile headlamps.

For moss and plants I again just buy it off ebay in sheets and give it a cheap over to make sure there are no hitchhikers on it before I put it in the tank. It needs watered and looked after for a while for it to take to the tank. Carpet moss is mostly for looks while sphagnum moss is used to keep moisture in areas and should be water/sprayed often. I have a little fern plant in my tank rn they seem to leave alone. I know a lot of people use fake plants as well for decor!

You should make a point to put a little temp and humidity monitor in your set-ups as well. The special reptile ones can be expensive so I just but the little ones you put in rooms and have had no issues with them.

Don't forget to give them hides! Cork wood/bark or coconut shells are nice and cheap. You can also use man made items just make sure they can handle the moisture and aren't made of anything toxic to your new friends. Also give them little sticks and things to climb up on. Just make sure the lid is secured so they can't escape.

For food I just use kitchen scraps like carrot peel, cucumber, apples and melon, give them a cuttlefish bone and some dried tiny shrimps in small amounts once a week or so, but you can also use fish flacks instead. But remember! Leaf litter and rot wood is meant to be their main diet for most species.

For the millipedes I would recommend Ivory millipedes as a good starter one, they're lovely in colour and are often up top, hardy as well, and usually you can get them captive bred which I've had much higher survival rates with vs wild caught. For each species you'll have to look up their needs yourself though, there isn't a 100% catch all set up for all species. Woodlice/isopods I'd suggest dairy cows as they're lovely and also very easy to get a hold of. I will say species of Armadillidium(roly poly/pill bugs) are my fave and I'm very biased and want 500 of them.

For handling just be gentle! I wear gloves in a lot of my videos but that because I've incredibly sensitive skin and can't stand soil under my nails. The worse they can do to you is them staining your skin(not all species), or give you a little nibble. Make sure if you're handling to wash your hands off BUT be careful what hand soaps you use! Wash hands after as well some can be toxic to bugs from what I've heard.

For tank size hmm that's hard, usually you want soil as deep as their body but that can be hard, 10-15cm is what I aim for my BIG boys and 7-10cm for my others, deeper is better but sometimes you'll also just never see them again! You'll want a tank at least a few times longer than your pets body or at least big enough for them to filly stretch out in if you get really big millipedes like giants and a 120cm tank is just kinda unrealistic haha.

I do not have a lot of advice for if they get sick sadly, it's kinda of hard to tell honestly and usually when you can it's too late. I would just say don't beat yourself up too much if some pass away sometimes bugs just do that especially if you don't know their history.

Where to get them depends on where you're from and what you want. A ton of reptile/specialist stores will have wild caught which isn't great but they will have the largest range of species and usually also sell all the stuff you need to tank care of them. Ebay is where I've gotten most of my captive bred and I just message people if I've questions about their bugs there.

I think that's everything I can think of,

Again I'm a big novice when it comes to bugs, @onenicebugperday and @crevicedwelling likely know way more than me, though idk if they're open to questions but they likely already have a lot of info on their blogs.

[clownyboiclownyboi]

because all of you seemed to like yesterday’s pity headcanons, I’ve got more! This time about gardening!

Phil and Techno both garden regularly, because they both have the age old mindset of being self sustainable. Phil is ample at it, but he usually leaves the gardening to Techno. Techno, who checks the soil regularly and plans out the plots for each crop before the ground’s even thawed over. Techno, who breeds the best plants for the biggest harvest or any other genetic trait he can find material. Techno, who makes his own pest deterrent that isn’t actually harmful with completely natural ingredients. Why? Because he enjoys it, he gets to cater to life instead of stealing it for once.

Tommy didn’t know shit about farming until pogtopia, when Techno practically dragged him into the farming area when the kid was bored just to make him stop whining. Surprisingly, Tommy caught on quite quickly and developed a huge green thumb. He doesn’t know everything about gardening, but he knows when his favorite flowers are about to bloom, and when best to harvest summer squash, and how to tell if a fruit is ripe. It took him a while to start gardening again after exile, but once he did, the soil took to his shaky hands just as easily as it did before.

Tubbo is shit at gardening. As much as he’d like to find it as easy and calming as his friend, he’s too harsh now, too clinical with his projects. The one time he tries a garden, the small patch of strawberries is shown no love, hidden away, only allowed a few hours of sunlight and water under the guise of “care.” His hands are too rough, coated in machine oil and no good for the ground. The earth does not know him, not anymore.

Quackity is surprisingly good at gardening. He has a little greenhouse, tucked away in the folds of Las Nevadas, flourishing with flowers and vines and tomatoes and peas. Without his husbands, because of Schlatt, he’d become cruel. He tore at the earth and cursed at it, blamed it for his problems. Then Charlie came along, and turned his heart soft. Directed his anger to the sky, to nothing in particular, until it was gone, and vines eagerly curled around his fingers. It takes effort not to ruin it like he’s ruined everything else, but admiring the sea of color in the little glass house, he thinks it’s worth it.

Fundy used to like gardening. He used to love sitting with his uncle Techno and listening to him ramble on and on about the best way to grow watermelons, the right time to pick apricots, and he’d always been ecstatic when he was allowed to help. But now potatoes taste like guilt, cucumbers like ash, river greens like bitter self hate. Every sweet reaping from the earth souring on his tongue, burning like the bridges he burned with his family. Fundy does not garden anymore.

think I’m gonna start doing posts like this regularly, so lemme know what topic or concept I should do next!

[rottenpumpkin13]

I treated myself to a sauna & facial today and it got me thinking - Genesis would absolutely have a mandatory spa day but would he be able to convince Seph, Angeal or Zack to join him?

Zack: Gets a seaweed wrap. Panics because he "feels like convenience store sushi," proceeds to eat his way out while the spa attendant watches in horror.

Sephiroth: Gets asked to leave the meditation room after other guests complain about an inexplicable sense of impending doom. He was just sitting there, eyes closed, perfectly still. The plants in the room had all wilted. The meditation instructor, who had been teaching for 20 years, suddenly handed in her resignation citing "a spiritual awakening about her own mortality."

Genesis: Spends three hours in the sauna at maximum heat without breaking a sweat while everyone else has evacuated the premises. His body is impenetrable to humidity (it's used to wearing a leather coat year round) When the concerned staff finally checks on him, they find him calmly reading in the 90°C heat.

Angeal: What do you need it to be that hot for??

Sephiroth: Preparation, no doubt. Should the need arise, he'll arrive in hell acclimated.

Genesis:

Angeal: Tries aromatherapy but can't relax. "Do you know how long it takes to extract this much essential oil from one plant? How many plants had to be harvested for this? Were they grown ethically?" Ends up trying to convince the spa to ration the essential oils, suggesting they dilute it into multiple bottles. "You could make this last for months! Think of all the oil you'd save!"

Last Genesis saw him, he was wrestling "wasted" cucumber slices from a staff member. Genesis pretended not to know him.

[moonkissed-reverence]

Religiously: Chapter 4

what the girls are actually doing when they should be gardening

New chapter coming Sunday✨

~~~

It was a warm and sunny day in Velaris. After a long morning of planting, Nesta peeled her gloves off and wiped the sweat that had gathered on her brow. “I’m not really sure I see the appeal, Elain.”

Elain laughed, “Similar to the appeal of training with a sword, I suppose.”

“Touche.” Nesta said as she plopped down on an ivory cushioned lounge chair beneath a matching opulent umbrella set on the veranda.

“Once we are finished you will see and then understand.” Elain promised as she took a seat next to her sister.

“Refreshments?” Feyre asked, tossing her shovel to the ground.

“Yes, please, I’m dying over here.” Nesta grumbled while fanning herself. “I’m about to jump in the damned Sidra.”

“Oh, relax drama queen, I’ll be right back.” Feyre said as she headed into the house.

“So, now that we’re finally alone,” Nesta said, sitting up to face Elain with a devilish look. “What the hels is going on between you and Azriel!”

“First of all, Nesta, please keep your voice down!” She looked up at the house. “If you promise that you will keep your mouth shut, then I will tell you. Although, it seems you already have a pretty good idea… Damsel in distress, a ravishing warrior…” She rolled her eyes.

“Yes, yes. I promise! Do tell, I’m dying to know the details. Has he actually ravished you!?”

She ignored that. “We don’t have time for the details right now. But yes, we are seeing each other. We had some things to work through since solstice. And now things are good…but delicate. And for obvious reasons you mustn’t tell anyone. Not even Cassian, please. ”

“Oh my gods, see! I was right. I was right all along. Oh, we have so much more to talk about! Have you kissed?!”

Elain hushed her with a glare and said, “ Yes. We do.” Then added, “Maybe,” with a little smirk.

At that moment, Feyre returned with a tray of elderflower spritzers and tea sandwiches. “Here we go, thanks to the twins—Some refreshments for my hardworking sisters to cool off with. Although, I wouldn’t mind a dip in the Sirda later.” Feyre chimed as she set the tray on the table between them. “What did I miss? What are you two talking about?”

“Oh nothing, Elain was just telling me about a new type of rose she’s been cultivating in secret .” Nesta took a long sip of her drink and laid back on the chaise lounge.

“A secret rose you say? It must be a very special rose if you’ve been keeping it secret.” Feyre surmised curiously then bit into a cress and cucumber sandwich.

“Yes, it’s very special and very secret.” Elain replied with a tight smile. “Let’s just forget about the rose and focus on the party, we’ve still so much to do.”

Read the rest here✨

[mamawasatesttube]

other timkonbart-adjacent thoughts that i entertain myself with: the specific vibe of romantic timkon + queerplatonic konbart (who simply don't label it bc they don't feel the need. kon is bart's favorite jungle gym and bart is kon's silly rabbit. what else is there to say?)

kon and bart are just at each other's houses and homes constantly. max loves to talk gardening and farm life with kon, who passes on ma's recipes and tips for his kitchen garden. bart offloads chives (and cucumbers. and zucchini. and eggplants. max for the love of god don't you dare plant that mint) onto kon, who is more than happy to bring by some offerings from the kent family farmer's market stall. bart shows up at the farm all the time just to hang out with kon when he's bored. ma loves to feed him and he loves to eat. it works out incredibly well for the both of them. bart will help himself to kon's closet and sleep in his bed even if kon himself isn't there. this tickles ma pink. at least once kon has made what he calls "the most bitchin' peach cobbler of all time", courtesy of ma's recipe, and bart takes one bite and his entire face lights up and he just launches himself across the room like "bro this is so good i am kissing you on the mouth" and then he does. he's so very aroace but physical affection is good and great and frankly, the peach cobbler is just really that bitchin.

all of which is to say: when kon finally is like soooo ma. im uh. dating one of my friends now :> she's So confused when it's not bart. like... oh, it's... it's not? oh i just thought-- no no tim is very sweet, he fixed the tractor up so well for us, of course i love him! i just, well, i thought you and bart... i've certainly never seen bart perched strangely on the rooftop at half past four in the morning, is all. but you should definitely bring tim around more! that boy is too thin we need to feed him--

[kedreeva]

I just want to send solidarity vibes as a fellow michigander looking at their black raspberry bramble in mild horror as they start to ripen during the wave of hot'n'humid we're dealing with. mine are going to be so wildly overgrown bc this was supposed to be my weeding / thinning week as the harvest started ;-;

I'm so glad I'm not along but also a moment of silence for us both. I started weeding on sunday, at least some, to at least clear around where I put my feet to grab berries, but yesterday was too much even for me, who normally wears hoodies year round. I feel like maybe I should go out in the middle of the night but the choices seem to be harvest while standing on the surface of the sun or harvest while being eaten alive by mosquitos who are LOVING this "hot days to rot everything, rainy nights to make children, so humid NOTHING EVAPORATES OR DRAINS EVER" weather. I've been doing my best to water the raspberries early in the morning, before the sun gets to them, because if I don't, I just know that I'll have a year like the one where I decided not to water them and the berries were all itty bitty.

The rest of my garden seems to be enjoying whatever the fuck is happening, too. Te cucumber/zucchini plants are fucking LOVING this, somehow, when I thought it would kill them. They've all been kind of sad and wilty since being planted and I figured 90F+ would do at least one of them but nO. They're all perky and putting out new leaves and feelers and the tomato plants too are finally turning green (I rescued some sadder looking tomato plants that were turning yellow all over) and growing fast.

I wish you luck with your raspberries. Maybe they will realize their folly and give you a few more days to get to the weekend...

[dimalink]

New arrival – new plants

April is going to its end right now. It is time to do things about seedling. To put different in containers. To have everything grow. And be stronger. And, in the end of May, to go to countryside – already, to put in seedbeds! So, this is third, already. New arrival with plants. My green friends.

And, this time – vegetables. This is corn. Cucumber. I will have, also, a cucumber. And eggplant. Two types. They look similar. And, cabbage. And, more flowers. Asters. This time, I plant them more brave way. And, even, a little didn’t calculate a little of soil. And, I put soil from old flowers containers. And, about situation – mainly, I have, already, learned how to do it.

And, now, I have only one question. What is the better way to put seeds in the soil. Put more or less in one block. With one seed in one container. With two, with three or with five. It depends, maybe, about a plant. Some of them, rather ok, can grow as a group.

And, one thing surprises me. And, I see this for the very first time. This is corns. They are so green high growing. They are like sticks. But green. Stems. And cucumber. And recognize them first. They are like small little flowers. Or, so, a green little grass. But, they are cucumbers.

I have never seen corns. And, even, was with big surprise. I see in a supermarket. And I take it - for interest! And, all the others – they are well known things for me. Eggplant, cucumber, cabbage.

 Corn makes a big surprise on me. I have never seen them. Such green plants. They are going upper. And very fast. Something like from ancient world. So huge and something like triangle. This is my imagination. I see it at night for the first time. When I come to the place to check. And, it is, already, growing some things for my surprise. Before my eyes. Cucumbers – in a most far corner. And, also, they start to grow fast. So, this is yes!

New friends! With a hello to them! It will be time, soon, to put them in a soil. Little time more, like a month, approximately, they will be in such small block. And, to the soil I replace them during countryside season. New friends! Lots of them! Green! And so fast to grow! I even was surprised. New plants! I like a lot plants. I will be friends with all of them! Cabbage it is so round form thing. It will be so interesting to see all of these. Whole line it should to be with cabbage. As a so big head. Or brain. Clever, maybe, this cabbage, very clever, clever a lot!

Eggplants of two types are looking similar. Maybe a lot. Maybe, they are almost the same. And cucumber will grow and they are so green and delicious things they will to be. They are like high bush, maybe. So, this is a garden I will have! It will be to grow lots of friends in a garden! Garden with a friends! And, now, it is most time to prepare for seedbeds!

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/

TUMBLR: https://dimalink.tumblr.com/ BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/ MASTODON: https://mastodon.social/@DimaLink

[insomniwillow]

Novo Amor

For @cyburnya for @mcytblrholidayexchange!

Read it here on ao3!

just some cute and sweet etoiles/phil/missa with mild cyberpunk elements! Hope you enjoy!!

"Remind me why we agreed to live somewhere with a season that hates us?" Etoiles panted, limping another step forward while also trying not to lean too heavily on Missa's shoulder.

The snow that surrounded them was already ankle-deep and was significantly slowing their trek back to the house, Etoiles' foot thumping dully against the ground with every step, frost-ridden and unresponsive as of an hour ago. Not the first time, not by a long shot, but he'd prefer that the amount of times he was left partially immobilized was kept to as few as possible. Which of course led back to the question- why was he even in the snow to begin with?

"Because Philza seemed happy and we all agreed to stay." Missa said, his otherwise nonchalance disturbed slightly by how hard he was breathing, stuck lugging Etoiles around. "And we both like to see him happy, and we probably weren't thinking about the snow when it was so hot outside."

"I do not like it when you speak truth to me Missa, this is my problem." Etoiles scowled, making Missa laugh breathlessly. "I should have just done the genetic inserts like you did, I think. Imagine, I could be part cucumber right at this moment, Missa! It would be my dream in life."

"I don't think plants do well in snow either, though?" Missa hedged, one the triangle ears sitting atop his head flicking some of the accumulated snow off- one of the few things he actually had gotten from the kits mean to shift and add genetic code to a person's system, though he lamented not being lucky enough to get the improved balance he'd been aiming for. "I think you would just be asleep right now, right?"

"Oh, that would be much more annoying than this." Etoiles said half jokingly, tossing his dead leg forward another step in demonstration. His arm still had some feeling the nerves wired through it, aching with the cold in an attempt to get him to fix it, but there wasn't much he could do for it while stuck out in a forest with snow actively falling around them. It would be a lot of effort to strip down to get at the mechanism to just turn it off completely, so he was forced to bear it. Truly no one had known suffering as he had. "But maybe my skin would turn green to match my arm and leg, or maybe I would eat only sunlight- very efficient, yes, I like that idea. I go outside and bam! I am full, no cooking or eating required of me."

"Awww, you would not eat my chorizo?" Missa pouted, and Etoiles wrinkled his nose at him, not liking the idea of having to give up such an efficient idea. But Missa made very amazing chorizo also, which Etoiles was forced to concede.

"Maybe I would eat only chorizo." Etoiles offered, and Missa beamed up at him, wide and pretty enough that he was compelled to press a kiss to Missa's forehead, his dark hair tickling Etoiles' nose and brushing along the half-deadened sensors of his left cheek.

There wasn't much that could beat one of his partner's smiles, except for maybe a properly functional leg and arm and a full belly, but all of those things were waiting at home. Sad. It really was like the world hated him.

Phil was already out of the house the second it came into view between the thicket of trees, the warm brown wood a herald of all the things that would likely kill Etoiles if he couldn't get to them. His wings were tucked close to his back, because he was far smarter than Etoiles was, the slightly shifting metallic feathers reflecting the lightness of snow as he hurried towards the both of them, alarm all over his face.

"What happened?" he exclaimed, tucking himself along Etoiles' other side to help him limp ever so slightly faster towards their house. At least he was warm, though again, with as many frozen and therefore deaden sensors that made up his left side, he mourned the fact he was only getting half the sensation of his partner pressing up against him. "You both were only supposed to get fucking firewood, what-"

"Philza, please, you do not have to yell, we are right here." Etoiles said with exaggerated exhaustion, but was quick to add. "Snow is just my weakness, man, it is saying to me 'you are shit' and it is true, so I cannot argue."

"Oh, jesus." Phil heaved, exhaling hard enough he was likely expelling all of his worries with it. "I though someone'd fucking attacked you out there-"

"Aypierre made sure that would never happen, Philza." Etoiles scolded. "You need to chill a little bit my bro. We are in the middle of snow and you are still struggling at this."

"As if you'd be totally calm if I fucking came back home being carried by Missa and visibly fucking limp." Phil shot back, shooting a glare up at him as they slowly made their way up the wooden stairs that lead up to their house. "Oh, fuck me, I didn't even think about a ramp-"

"If we can get him on his feet again we can save the ramp until spring." Missa piped up, likely furrowing his brows at the thought of Phil trying to work out in the snow for an extended period- his wings already weren't taking kindly to the weather when he kept inside, let alone his joints. They were all full of such little inconveniences, it was really such a shame, but Etoiles supposed it was the only way to give everyone else a chance. "I think we have more of those sonic dryers in the basement, right Phil? Can you go get those while I put more wood on the fire?"

"Yeah, that'll be good." Phil huffed, kicking the door open with the toe of his boot before all three of them made their way to the couch. Etoiles literally collapsed, moaning a bit as if pained, but his partners knew him well enough at the point to know he was only making fun.

Missa gave a cute full-body shake to get rid of the worst of the wet still clinging to himself before he slid his wood frame off his shoulders, wiggled a couple logs free, and tossed them onto the fire. Phil was already gone, presumably poking around their shitty basement, but before Etoiles could even wonder where he was, Missa was in front of him again, wielding a towel spread in between both hands, like a threat.

"Ah, I see, you are going to smother me." Etoiles said dully, and Missa barked a surprised laugh, even as he pressed the towel to Etoiles' dead leg, wiping away with snow still clinging to the synthetic 'skin' though as it was it looked a little more like an error message than anything else. "I knew this day would come- too shit to even fight snow, what kind of person am I...."

"A very cool looking one." Missa offered with a grin, moving up to towel down Etoiles' arm next. He was practically in Etoiles' lap now, and his one good hand came up to rest lightly on Missa's hip, just to make sure he didn't fall. Missa was the goat at many things, but keeping his balance was not one of them. "No te precupes,  once it's not so wet it'll probably feel a lot better."

"This is impossible Missa." Etoiles told him factually. "Do you know what is better than this? Nothing, and that is what I am feeling now."

"You're not cold?" Missa asked, one hand holding Etoiles' dead arm by the wrist as he wiped the melted snow from Etoiles' palm with more care than Etoiles had ever deserved in his whole stupid life. Then Missa planted a quick kiss to his palm, smiling lightly to himself as he glanced up at Etoiles, then past him as Phil came rushing up the stairs. "Oh, Phil! Did you find-"

Etoiles pulled him down into a proper kiss before he could even finish his sentence, the little squeak that escaped him way too cute for a piece of shit like Etoiles, but Missa leaned into him all the same. He was a little breathless as he pulled away, smiling shyly down at Etoiles even as Phil slid in front of them, looking less worried now, which was an extra bonus to the kissing.

"What was that for?" Missa asked, his nose wrinkling a little bit in mock indignation, and Etoiles raised his eyebrows at him, eyeing the little space between them.

"What the hell are you saying, Missa? My bro?" Etoiles asked incredulously, and both he and Phil laughed. "You are sitting in my lap and you are asking me why I am kissing you? Like it is strange?"

"Awwwww, que bonito Elotes." Missa cooed at him, dropping the towel onto the couch beside them to wrap his arms around Etoiles' neck, pressing a kiss to his nose, then his chin before Etoiles heaved a heavy sigh and pressed forward to kiss his mouth. Like a real bro would, not being all teasing, even if that was a little cute too. Missa giggled into his mouth, and the rush of elation that filled Etoiles was like as if he'd just shattered through the Federation's firewall all over again.

"You two are cute enough to make me sick." Phil said flatly, taking a seat beside them, and Etoiles promptly flipped him off. "Alright, alright, Missa c'mon, mate-"

And now it's his turn to be cut off as Etoiles cupped a hand behind his head and tugged him in for a kiss, nearly dislodging Missa from his lap entirely. But he just laughed again, tucking Phil's hair behind his half-missing ear before pressing a kiss to Phil's cheek, and then to his mouth when Etoiles finally released him.

"Jesus, you two are fucking incorrigable." Phil laughed, a little breathless himself as he leaned away from both of them, bringing the sonic heater he'd dug up between them like a very tiny and inefficient shield. Etoiles observed it- a tiny cylindrical device at first glance, but as Phil pinched two opposite corners, the stacked rings that made it up spread out between his hands. "Scoot Missa, lemme at him."

"Ough, evil to the both of us, Philza." Etoiles moaned as Missa extricated himself from Etoiles' lap, offering one last kiss to Etoiles' forehead before moving to the kitchen, the lights buzzing on noisily as he entered the room. An old ass sensor system, but it still worked somehow, and Missa said he found the sound soothing, which was good because Phil found the sound irrationally irritating, but there was also a reason he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen, and Etoiles supposed that was as good an excuse as any. "You are secretly my enemy in disguise, I knew it. Come to kill me by sending my very cool and warm partner away."

"Wha- I'm fucking cool!" Phil protested.

"No, Philza is the goat, we all know this, he is better than <i>cool</i>. You are a shit imposter."

"Right, right my mistake." Phil chuckled to himself, fussing with the holo screen on the last circle, jabbing his index finger at the heat spectrum repeatedly until he was satisfied with it. It hovered in midair, scanning Etoiles' position before each circle positioned itself around him, and with only a flash of slightly too intense heat, he could feel whatever moisture Missa had missed evaporate off him entirely. "There we are. I think your skin grafts might be fucked but most cybernetic arms and legs tend to shut down before water can properly fry them, so now we just gotta wait a bit."

"Ah, so I am trapped on this couch in front of the fire? I would not wish this on my worst enemy, Philza, how could you do this to me?"

"Pft, what the fuck ever, mate. Look, we'll get a hold of Antoine and he should be able to get you some kind of weather-resistant skin grafts, alright? Most people don't even have to bother with the weather nowadays, so sorry if it slipped my mind." Phil scoffed at him, sliding the sonic dryer's rings back into place before tossing the whole thing over his shoulder and tucking himself under Etoiles' still-dead arm, having folded his wings back under his shirt sometime when he'd been in the basement. "'Sides, having you stuck in one place isn't so bad, see?"

"Ah yes, my partner under an arm I cannot feel." Etoiles deadpanned, but he pressed a kiss to Phil's forehead anyways as Phil laughed. "What a joy. Next you are going to tell me you are going to sleep on my dick which I cannot feel."

"Jesus." Phil sputtered, just in time for Missa to reappear, holding two steaming mugs of some kind of liquid in both hands that his quickly pressed into their hands before disappearing again to grab his own. He squished himself in between the couch arm and Etoiles, wriggling a bit until he could bury his feet underneath Etoiles leg with a mischievous smile. "Awww, thanks mate."

"I remembered to put chili in yours this time, Phil." Missa offered, only a touch shy, glancing over the rim of his mug. He'd put a pinch of cinnamon in Etoiles, and he smacked his lips together, enjoying the feeling of warmth spreading in his chest.

The snow continued outside, all pale and bitter cold, the sunlight almost clinical looking, but Phil was still pressed up against Etoiles, and Missa gave a pleased little hum as he took his own sip of chocolate, and Etoiles gave a contented sigh.

All was well.

[frubeto]

Poll time!

Okay so i keep getting bitter courgettes every now and again, and it pisses me off cause i gotta improvise my whole meal then cause bitter courgettes (and cucumbers) happen when the plant cross-pollinates with other non-edible pumpkin plants, and are probably poisonous (and also just taste bad)

BUT its happening kinda often while google says it should be rare and ive also once had someone else try the same courgette and not taste the bitterness so.

[oceanlue]

[Daycare]

Part 2

alphonse who takes care of them when there doing arts and crafts

seth who watches them out side during play time

finn who teaches them of how to take care of plants and takes care of the little garden that they have outside

lucien who takes care of the snacks and make sure that they're all healthy

Charlie who reads the kids stories when it's story time

auron the boss of the hole thing he still is in the daycare but he's doing his paperwork on a clipboard and thanks to the kids being a little scared of him so he has time for himself.

-----------

1 whole month has passed since the opening of the daycare Alphonse teaches them how to be clean after part time Seth takes them outside so he can play with the kids and make sure that they're all safe overall it was a good month, but the only problem is that little rookie does not want to ever do anything fun all little Rook wants to do is just stay by auron and he has no problem with this it's just that Little Rock needs to interact with kids. So auron is going to spend some time out of his office with Little Rock since they didn't feel safe.

*meanwhile*

Alphonse was just finishing up cleaning the Arts area and little boo came over because they wanted to help they did get distracted by a couple things but they were a good helper

Litte boo: *puts a pink sticker on his face* "you look pretty in pwink"

Alphonse: awwww thank boo *pats boo's head*

And over the time that boo was helping alphonse decided to Award them with a cookie but told not to tell anybody.

And Seth came in with the kids as Alphonse was putting some stuff away and then decided to take over bringing in a book about plants and a couple of plant stuff since they're going to grow their own tomato a fun little project for the kids.

As they were getting ready to start with the basics auron came over and said that Rook needed to be with kids so he is going to be with them for the time being.

Auron: rookie need to have some time with kids instead of being with me all day so today I will be joining you guys in your plant making thing

Then handed out the pots for the soil and told them not to fill it up too high or too low and everyone grabbed a small little toy shovel and scoop some soil into their pot where they will plant the seed rookie was doing it very slow cuz they were nervous so Aaron helped then the bit and everything was ok

After a wild day finished putting their soil into their pots and finally they got to choose what seed there were a flower seeds tomato seed and a cucumber seed so....

Boo/sugar got flower seed

Orchid got cucumber seed

Little mouse got tomato

Angel got tomatoe seed

And rookie got flower seeds

And told them exactly the instructions on how to plant them and then get a spray bottle and spray some water so they can have water to drink after that they put their names on the pot and put him on the window sill where the sun shines and they were done with that activity of the day

And for the rest of the day auron stayed with rookie outside of his office keep an eye on them and to make sure everything was doing okay in the daycare.

And so when they was time for the parents to pick up their kids auron told Rookie's mom what happened today and what was going on with them turns out their mother told him that they have some social anxiety and they've been trying to work things out and trying to get them out more.

He nodded and bid farewell to rookie and as they were walking away rookie waved bye to auron and he knows that tomorrow that it's going to be more chaotic again like everyday care is.

End of part 2

Should I do a part 3

--------

I hope you like it also here is part 1

Peace out

💙💙💙

[sugolara]

The start

ft. K.B x S.T x I.M x fem! reader

Synopsis: After a deadly virus leaks all over the world, every country is forced to close down it's borders and airports to prevent anyone from coming in and out. Though, it's to late for some people. The dead has rose and is looking for revenge. Cw: gore, quirkless! au, apocalypse! au, zombie! au, weapons, death, angst, lots and lots of blood, cannibalism, suicidal thoughts, slow burn

previous || series m.list || next

Water dripped from the faucet, the water softly colliding on the tiles of the shower. Wiping the mirror as it steamed from the hot water, her eyes looked at herself before lowering to the eyebags that had formed over the sleepless months. If Hitoshi was here, he’d be jealous and she wondered if he was still out there; dead or alive. Looking for him would be impossible and while he was her only friend, she had to leave him behind. She couldn’t sacrifice to look for him since she found her last remaining family. He would be missed, but he would understand.

That morning, they had gotten their jobs. It was cold out, colder than yesterday and unfortunately for Shoto, he had to withstand it as he placed his hands underneath his clothed armpits to keep warm. Why Nezu decided to place him in the gardening was unusual. Had Nezu forgotten he grew up in the city? He knew nothing about playing with dirt and while he did have Momo to show him the ropes, he was not feeling satisfied with the job.

"Lighten up, city boy! Today is easy work!" Ryuko, the blonde-headed woman and head lead of farming as well as gardening, chuckled. She then passed him a pair of gloves, "Be thankful that you won't work with the pigs or chickens. And on the plus side! You'll have Momo working with you."

The boy looked to his side where he saw Momo standing and trying to keep warm, "It's not that bad, right?"

"Depends on what your version of bad is." Momo had let out a soft chuckle, if only he knew.

"Right, I'll leave you to it!" The long blonde-haired woman said as she made her way towards her friend, Yawara.

With her gone, Momo entered further down the two aisles of wooden plant boxes. To the right were vegetables; peas, tomatoes, squash, carrots, potatoes, cucumber and cabbages. To the left was the fruit section; strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and melons. Then to the back, there were small trees, ready to bloom.

Behind her, Shoto glanced at the trees, "What are they growing?"

Momo hummed, "I think orange and cherry trees."

"Cherries?" Shoto asked, “Can they even grow in this season?”

“That's what we’re hoping for.” Momo kneeled down, placing her woven basket on the ground.

He kneeled down next to her, looking at the vegetables in front of him, “Why cherries?”

“The community takes a cote on what should be planted. We try to plant both vegetables and fruits that grow depending on which season we are in, however, lately we haven’t been doing that.” She said, wondering why the sudden stop of commissions, “As of now, we’re sticking with what's going already.”

Shoto had looked to an empty space where he could see the dirt was damp, "The community as a whole makes decisions?"

"Mr. Nezu wanted to make it fair. He wants the community to voice their problems and not seem like he is the only one who is in charge." She said as she plucked a few peas before placing it in the basket.

He watched her fingers pinched the stem before plucking it, "Why not a council team?"

"Mr. Aizawa, Yagi, Gunhead, Tsuchikawa and Chatora are in the council." She placed the peas in the basket, "Along with Mr. Nezu, of course."

She wanted to mention Hizashi, but she decided not to as she was sure that he was long dead by now since the bandits had taken him for collateral. It's been a while since he was last seen and one of these days, they would show up with her teacher's corpse for their own amusement. “You know, Shoto, I’m really glad you’re here. When I didn’t see you at the camp me and Tenya were held in, I thought the worst had happened to you.”

His eyes flickered towards her, brows knitted in confusion, “You and Tenya were evacuated together?”

She nodded and her hands stopped for a brief second as she remembered that day, “We were.”

“If you’re here, then I’m assuming it also didn’t go well.” He said and when she slowly nodded, her face covering her hair he let out a quiet sigh as her voice softly ranged out. “After that, it was just me and Tenya.”

At least she wasn’t alone, though that had him wondering where she was located. However, he decided it was best not to question as the mood had fallen and talking about the possibility of where her family was last seen alive was not an easy topic to speak of. So instead, he watched her finger pluck the peas and listened to her instructions on how to do so.

Letting out a yawn, Izuku crossed his arms as he tried his best to stay awake. He knew he should have gone off to bed early, but he was enjoying being with F/n, Hanta, Shoto, and Katsuki—even after the blonde had decided to sleep. It was the most he has ever seen the girl smile. Even if it wasn’t towards him, he could feel his heart flutter.

Shaking the thought away, he rubbed his tired eyes as he waited for Ochaco and Fumikage to arrive. He felt nervous to see her again. He wasn’t sure if they left off on good terms and he hoped that with what he wanted to say they would still be at least friends and even if not, then they could stand each other. He was even fine with her hating him if that made her feel better.

In front of him, Mezo placed a couple papers on the table following a map, “Most of the places we’ve been have been written down here.”

Just then the doors to the small room behind the weaponry opened. In came Ochaco and Fumikage. As Fumikage greeted Izuku, Ochaco gave him a brief glance, “Good, you made it.”

In return Izuku smiled at them before looking down at the paper, hoping that she wouldn't notice his tense self as she sat down next to him, “You’ve been to these places already? That's a lot to cover.”

“Only for scavenging medical supplies.” Mezo replied, “And so far, we’ve only managed to find a few.”

“But, you’ve gone through every store, right?” He asked and then looked at the girl who shook her head. “Only pharmacies or drug stores. We leave the rest to Eijiro’s group. Often times Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yagi will go as well.”

At the mention of their names, Izuku glanced down at the map, “Where are they?”

"They're on a run, looking for more survivors." Fumikage said, warming his hands on the coffee cup, "It’s been a couple weeks so if anything they should arrive sometime this week."

"Looking for survivors?” The freckle male furrowed his brow as he thought of the times where he had run into people that were not so kind, “That's kind of a disadvantage when they bring someone who could potentially harm us.”

"We don't make the rules, Izuku. We just go by it." Ochaco said, crossing her arm, "From what Mr. Nezu said, this place was supposedly built to help a new life. That's why there's so many people. Someone from the military or someone affiliated with it, had brought civilians instead of people with power."

"Like high ranking officials." Mezo added.

"That’s…actually…well thought off." So the reason why Sorston was created was to repopulate. But why would someone even go out of their way to do that? Don't get him wrong, he's glad to be here, but to think that someone wanted to do something that the higher ups had no effort in doing so was astounding, “But if that was the case wouldn’t this have been here since before the outbreak started?”

“Who knows?” The raven male took a sip from his coffee as he shrugged, “Some things are better left off being mysterious. If what you’re saying is true, imagine how bad that would look for Mr. Nezu since he was the first to be here and not only that, but the people would probably turn on Momo, Tenya, and Shoto since their families worked for the government.”

“Even if they didn’t know,” Mezo leaned back in chair, “people tend to do things out of fear.”

“Enough of that.” Ochaco looked at the map as she didn’t want to know what would happen to her friends if things got out of control. She has thought about it, but she felt like if they knew and kept it a secret…she wouldn’t know what to do. Her friends keeping a secret that almost killed off every human being was so unordinary of them, but, yet again, everything was unordinary, “We have a week left before we head off. So let’s look where we last left off.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” Izuku looked at them all, “With the stuff we brought here when me and the others came, we stopped by this warehouse that was full of supplies. We can turn back there and grab the remaining  stuff.”

“That's even if the stuff is there.” Mezo said as Izuku nodded with a smile. “Maybe, but it doesn't hurt to try.

"This is so damn boring." Katsuki said, as he sat in Denki's and Eijiro's living room, "When the hell are we getting out of here."

"Dude, chill out." Denki said as he passed him a soda, "We just came back from a run so we need to cool off. We’ll go in a week or so."

The blonde scoffed as he placed his scoffed, "Had I known I'd be sitting on my ass I would've gone with F/n. Flat face told me they’re both watching the perimeter—which means she gets to hold a fucking gun. She’s probably throwing a rager.”

Denki eyed him, a cheshire grin forming on his lips. He placed his feet on the blonde's lap and his arms behind his head, "A little mouse told me, that you'd have plenty of fun with her, if you catch my drift.”

The blonde glared at him and threw his feet off his lap, "What the hell are you on about?"

"Eijiro told me about your teeny tiny little crush. Assuming it's small with that small heart of yours." Though he quickly shielded his head as the blonde threw a pillow at him, repeatedly hitting him, "I was just joking! Have mercy!"

From the kitchen, Eijiro shook his head, eating a donut, "I miss this."

“You told him!?” Katsuki shouted at the red-head and from underneath the pillow Denki peeked out with a grin. “Wait, so it’s true!? Oh, our little Katsuki finally grew up!”

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Dunceface!" The blonde said as he continued to hit the male. From his seat, Eijiro chuckled, “It might have slipped out.”

The younger blonde waved his left hand while his right hand protected his head, "C'mon, man it's totally obvious! You think you’re slick, but you’re not!”

"Shut the fuck up!" The blonde said, a blush coating his cheeks.

Hands freezing, she gripped her rifle, looking through the scope as it was aimed at a rotter. A breath of fog escaped her lips as she pressed the trigger, the silencer helped the shot keep quiet as the dead fell. Grinning, she turned to Hanta, “Six.”

He rolled his eyes as he looked to the abandoned neighborhood where they stood outside of Sorston, “I told you we shouldn’t be acting like this is a game.”

“You kidding?” Her grinned stayed as she looked to where she killed the dead, “This brings up old memories and why are we gotta pretend like they haven’t been trying to kill us.”

“They used to be people too, y’know.” He shook his head as he adjusted the rifle on his shoulders. He wished she would feel at least a bit of empathy. It wasn’t their fault the dead decided to become the dead. They just so happened to be at the wrong spot, “Imagine how you would feel if someone was playing with your walking dead corpse.”

“You’re no fun.” She muttered before letting out a long sigh and throwing her arms in the air, “So, you finally going to tell me why we’re out here? I thought checking the perimeter meant being up on the towers like those guards.”

“I thought one Denki or Eijiro might have told you.” When she raised a brow at him, he continued as he looked around for anyone, “About the bandits.”

“Oh,” She hummed and nodded, “Didn’t tell us much only that you guys are forced to give up the supplies to them or else someone dies.”

“Yeah, well,” He looked down as they continued walking through the street, “That's why we’re out here. If they come by we inform Mr. Nezu and when they’re alone we deal with it ourselves. That's why Ochaco jumped you. She thought you were one of them and since she’s never met you it would be easier to lie and say we didn’t know you were with them.”

Again, she hummed as she looked at him, though hearing a rotter, they both glanced at it. It was trapped underneath a vehicle, most likely having been run over. Approaching it, she stabbed it and let the soul be guided to rest, “I say we should leave, but if you want to stay then we can. Especially with winter coming by, who knows how far we would survive.”

“But you were ready to leave when you didn’t know I was here.” He said and watched as she shrugged, placing her knife back in the holster on her waistband and putting her hands in her pockets to keep warm. When she let out a quiet sigh and words followed, his brows narrowed at her, “I was kind of hoping that I would die out here.”

“You’re kidding.” He scoffed, continuing forward.

“Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” She said, catching up to him, “And it’s not a bad thing. When you’re dead…you don’t have to worry about anything.”

He rolled his eyes and couldn't believe what he was hearing. Yes, at times the idea would pop up in his mind, but he pushed it back because he knew that someday the world would grant him what he wanted and that was seeing her again. His mother dying had taken a toll on him, but he continued on because he was stronger and wouldn’t let his mind take over. He understood that some people don’t have what it takes and who could blame them? One look at the rotter's and a look into the future, you’d think there was nothing left, but to die an agonizing death.

Everyone’s thought of it, but he didn’t expect for her—of all people—to even acknowledge the idea, “You really are your father’s daughter.”

“Maybe you’re wrong.” With every word that came out, so did a breath of fog, “Maybe he’s still out there.”

And that could be true.

Their attention was then caught by an engine roaring coming towards them. Quickly, Hanta pulled her to one of the homes nearby, hiding inside as a vehicle soon came out from the fog. At least a couple followed behind and the male knew all too well who it was as he quickly grabbed his radio and informed the person on the other side that they had arrived. F/n, looking at the cars behind a window where she stood caught a glance of a few people, “Is that them?’

Hanta nodded as he glared out, both of them whispering as he removed his rifle to leave, “Leave your gun here, we need to make our way back. Stay close.”

“Wait.” She grabbed his arm, leaving her rifle next to his, “We can’t put ourselves in a dangerous situation. Let the rest handle them.”

“No way.” He quickly replied, shrugging her hand off him, “If things turn for the worse they’ll need extra hands.”

“They got extra hands.” She looked at him as a glared set on her face.

“My friends are in there.” He glared back, “So are yours.”

“And I’m positive, Izuku, Katsuki and even Shoto can handle it.” Was she?

“You want to stay, then stay.” He said, before leaving her. Her hand tried grasping his arm once more, but he was out of reach. Annoyingly, she let out a scoff as she followed behind, “Fine, wait up.”

They carefully made their way back to Sorston and when they arrived, the gates were already opened and just ahead they could see the vehicles. They could see the usual guards that kept Sorston safe and instead of their cheery self they looked nervous. There was a man that F/n didn’t recognize, but Hanta did and she noticed the way he kept his head lowered while passing the stranger. She followed his action as she realized that the man belonged to the enemy.

When they passed by, there was a commotion up ahead and a large group of people she’s also never seen had surrounded the area. A few of the community's people also stood by, but when she saw the three males who she survived with and the look of shock on their faces, she knew this wasn’t good. She didn’t go near them as Hanta stood by Mina and Kyoka. She stayed with him and when she looked at what everyone else was staring at, her eyes also widened as she whispered, “Wait, isn’t that..”

“Mr. Yamada.” Mina whispered, terrified eyes looking at her teacher who was not in any good condition. Instead of being free, he was forced to kneel down with his hands tied behind his back. His blonde hair was caked in soot and while his eyes along with mouth were covered she could see bruises peeking out from the binds.

The one who stood behind him, gun pointing at the back of his head looked at Nezu who bore no smile like he always held. Nezu gestured his hands towards the bin of guns as he spoke with a plain voice, “You got your weekly supplies Tomura, so please, let Hizashi go.”

When the said male laughed, all eyes were on Tomura. When he waved his pistol around, some people protected their heads in fear that he would start shooting, “Dabi, check it. Make sure there’s nothing missing.”

His companion rolled his eyes and F/n should have been paying better attention. She had missed the way Shoto’s eyes widened when the raven-haired male had sent a subtle glance to him before looking at the bin in a bored manner, “Only six rifles.”

“That is my fault, I thought we had enough.” The crowd tensed up, but unlike them, Nezu kept his composure as he placed his hands behind his back, “I’ll make sure to bring in every the next time you arrive.”

Tomura let out a loud hum as he placed the tip of his gun on his chin, mimicking a thinking posture that everyone knew was not good, “You know, Nezu…I feel like you aren’t taking me seriously.”

“I will have your stuff, but with everyone fending for themselves weapons are becoming scarce.” Nezu knew where this was heading and he wanted to avoid it as he could feel his people looking at him to calm the situation down, “No one has to die.”

“Well, I feel like someone definitely has to.” He said as he placed his pistol back on Hizashi’s head and the injured male could feel it as he also knew what was to come next, “This is the second time you have been with my shit and I’ve been real nice about it the first time, but it’s starting to get old.”

The action startled the crowd. Some had to look away while others covered their mouths to prevent a peep coming out. It wouldn’t be the first someone had died right in front of them and it wouldn’t be the last.

“I understand, but you have to realize that finding weapons is extremely hard these days.” Nezu said, not once taking his eyes away from the male. F/n had to give it to him, for being smaller than Tomura, he still stood up to him and she was sure that if someone else was the leader they would cave in. “The ones who go out looking for them almost never return.”

Among them, she hadn’t noticed a girl with blonde locks being so friendly towards Ochaco, though she couldn’t exactly say it was friendly, it was more one-sided as the brown-haired girl looked uncomfortable. She wondered what was up with that as she looked back to Nezu who once again spoke. “Please, take what you already have and let Hizashi go.”

“Hm.” Tomura never once let his eyes move away from the white-haired male. Not even when silence washed over them and the next the echo of a gunshot was heard. Body falling, the crowd let out a shriek as they turned to look away from Hizashi’s corpse. Beside her, she could see Hanta along with Mina and Kyoka tense up.

Blinking, Nezu ignored the splattered blood on his dress shoes. Instead, he swallowed, avoiding his friend's corpse as he kept his eyes on the childish leader, “Take your supplies, we’ll see you next week, Tomura.”

Slowly, he shook his head before snarling. He walked over Hizashi’s body, coming close to Nezu as he scratched his neck with a glare, “What does it take for you to lose, huh!? Do I need to kill someone else!? Or do I need to take you and have everyone watch you die slowly!?”

When Nezu did not reply and his face still held the same look, Tomura dropped his hands. His time here was done. With a changed attitude, Tomura clapped his hands that startled people as he made his way back to his truck, passing by Toga, “Kill someone.”

With a jump on her feet, she flung her knife so fast that even F/n missed it until she felt a wet sensation splash on her cheek. When she turned her head, she didn’t see Kyoka and only heard her body fall to the floor. “Yay! Did you see that, Spinner!? Mr. Compress!? Dabi!?”

She could hear crying coming from around her and she didn’t know whether to pick up the girl until she saw Hanta and Mina move towards their dead friend. From the corners of her eyes she saw Izuku and Katsuki look at her with a scared face—one she never imagined would be towards her.

“Next time, I want Toshinori.” Tomura said, sending a threatening smile towards Nezu before entering his vehicle, “I like doing deals with him.”

Watching them leave, Nezu let out an internal sigh, the crowd around him leaving, but their cries echoing in his ears. Being the key to their deaths, he was going to take the blame.

“Nezu…” Yawara placed a hand on his shoulders, ‘Bury…or burn?”

Finally, did his eyes move. He stared at his council team and just behind them he could see a couple of Sorston people looking at him in what he could describe, shame, “...Bury.”