#and the wide variety of plants all around us too!

[k66-official]

Oh? Dororo, you have a phone?

I think our phones are connected to the Kero Ball, or something like that? I've not looked into it much, to be honest.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Spencer Reid

genre: fluff, light angst

word count: 6339

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: Dr. Spencer Reid is simply adorable. And you actually think he might be perfect. Until, that is, he isn't.

a muted shade of green masterlist // next chapter

His apartment is a muted shade of green and you always wonder why is it that he painted it so dark. The book covered walls never fail to impress you, making you smile into the ether that was this place with its shelves and shelves of worldly stories. His taste, you think, is more towards the classics and refined tales that carry significance and importance in the world of literature. Dostoyevski, Austen, Orwell, Doyle. Though here and there, in some corners of the living room or thrown haphazardly in the kitchen counter, you see peeks of contemporary names, the ones you’re sure you sold him a long, long time ago. Murakami, Zadie Smith, George. 

You met Spencer when you first moved into D.C., about a year or so ago, and sometimes, you really think that it was just yesterday when you first saw him with his purple scarf walking inside your store.

“Excuse me.” 

You have too many books in your arms to even see who is talking to you, but you apologise nonetheless; it’s the least you can do for your first customer. “I’ll be with you in a moment, apologies for the mess, we literally just opened.” In your defence, you had been so busy unpacking all the new orders and organising things into shelves that you absolutely forgot to put the plaque with your opening hours by the door. You can hear his shoes clicking and clacking around the place, and a wave of anxiety washes through you. If he leaves with a book– luckily two– you will have made your first sell and that just might remind you that of the reason why you decided to do this in the first place.

Carefully putting the pile of Maggie Nelson’s on the counter, you finally turn to face him, tired smile from ear to ear when you see him holding two books already. “You found something you like?” You gently ask, voice calm and fingers fidgeting while you wait for an answer. “Many things, actually. I’m quite glad to see a wide variety of books here, it’s been hard finding something new to read lately.” 

His voice is pointed and it echoes in the empty store. The clock on the walls says it’s 7:58AM and you suck in a breath; it’s definitely too early for someone to be looking for books, but maybe he wants entertainment for his commute, maybe he needs a distraction for the way, or maybe he is odd like that. 

It must be cold outside. The man is wearing a purple scarf  inside what looks like a wool coat, and somehow, he fits in there, in your store. He looks like the kind of person who would be buying books as early as 8 in the morning and you’re not sure if that is adorable or unhinged. 

“Just these, thank you,” The loud thump of the pile of books he deposits by the cashier makes you gasp. “You have a great selection here, I was lucky you open early!” The twinkle in his eyes is what keeps you from telling him that that, in fact, was a big mistake. In the middle of rushing to get the keys from the landlord in time, get the deliveries, get everything sorted and organised, you had completely forgotten to put out the hours for the shop. 

“I am glad you found us here! Do you live nearby?” At this point, you’re just trying to make conversation as you bagged his items, smiling at the titles and happy to see your favourite book in the midst. “I live just across the street, actually,” He said, giving you his card. “You’ll see me a lot, I’m afraid.”

“And what should I call my most loyal customer, then?” One look down at his card and you would know, but you wanted him to tell you himself. 

“Spencer Reid.”

There is not really a sound reason as to why you walk so freely into his apartment. The first time he asked you to do this, he was going on a case and needed someone to water his plants. As it turn out, your store is quite literally across the street from his building and you don’t really mind the mindless task, so you tell him to not worry, you’ll take care of it. It had been a few months since you two met, five or so, and despite taking you some time to truly understand, you got used to the fact that Spencer created a routine for both of you, knocking on your shop’s door every Monday at precisely 8 in the morning. With time, you stopped questioning him even when you had many, many questions– was he even reading all these books? If yes, how?! Every visit, he left with three books or more, and unless he pulled all nighters every night, those were simply sitting on his desk. 

Instead, you start putting a few titles aside whenever you spot them. You start it with ‘A Gentleman From Peru’ by André Aciman, short and sweet. Next week it was ‘A Little Paris Bookshop’ by Nina George. Then ‘Cultish’ by Amanda Montell. And just like this, you two form your own little book club, his visits extending beyond their usual thirty minutes into the better part of the hour to talk about the plot, the characters, the arcs. You know there is quite a lot you don’t know about Spencer, of course there is, but you learn more and more with every little debate you two have. You learn about his morals through the character he likes, and his dreams through the plots he enjoy. You learn about his photographic memory that allows him to quote his favourite sections to you, and you learn that he is a very logical man through his hatred for the inaccuracy of investigative books. You learn and you learn and you learn and you find out that you like learning about Spencer. More than you like learning about anyone else, that is, and now, every time he walks in, you can’t help but get excited, smiling as you only imagine what you would learn that day. 

Sometimes, you did notice the absence of your favourite customer. He would disappear for weeks on end and then act like nothing happened, and you get it; he doesn’t owe you anything, you’re just the lady that sells him books, but you feel like there is something that is starting to bloom when, every time he comes back, he brings you a book. “I thought you’d like it,” Is all he says before leaving with his bag of new reads. For a moment, it’s like an exchange, but Spencer never demands anything of you; never asks for anything more than new books and recommendations. 

It’s quite rewarding finding the books you sold him scattered through the apartment. There are a couple in the kitchen, open split on the counter and you smile fondly at the clumsy way he marks his books. There is no folded page, no book marker, no random picture; just his book, cover facing up, open and splitting the spine in half enough to crease. You shake your head, smiling like he’s done this just to rile you up.

“Oh my god, don’t!”

You don’t mean to shout but it’s too late. His eyes widen in shock and he immediately freezes, mouth stuck in a little ‘o’ shape that makes you blush. “What did I do?” 

The wince in your expression is as visible as the light of day when you speak. Your hands hover in the air, unsure of what to do now, but still trying to do something. “The book, Spencer,” The words come out like a whine, and if you start stomping your feet you might as well look like a child. “The spine. The book. The– oh my god, the noise!”

The way he laughs at you is contagious, and you start laughing with him, face hidden behind your hands in embarrassment. Owning a bookshop doesn’t come for free. Your particularities when it comes to your literary treasures are enough to scare any sane person away. “You know, there are worse sounds than a book’s spine breaking,” He mused, closing the book before walking to your counter. His nimble fingers drum a soft rhythm as he waits for you to go around and charge him for the book. It’s a symphony, almost; so loud in your quiet store that, for a second, your heart is tuning in, thumping as his fingers do, beating to the song he creates. 

“You don’t have to buy it,” It’s a little ridiculous how airy your voice sounds then. Aren’t you a little too old to have a crush? “It’s okay if–“ But he doesn’t even let you finish, rattling off some facts about the writer. Most of the time, actually, he is rattling off some fact about something, and some you know, some you don’t, but you never interrupt him. You like hearing him talk. 

You miss hearing him talk. Whenever Spencer leaves, you miss him. You miss the knock on your shop’s door at 8AM. You miss the shy little chuckles. You miss the purple– the constant, always there purple. A wave of sadness hits you then, looking around the apartment with a longing expression. 

The first time he calls you over, it’s not really an invitation. A week before it happens, he doesn’t show up for your Tuesday unboxing and you have to carry all the new orders inside by yourself. It takes double the time and despite the effort it takes you, it’s the absence of his coy chuckles and snarky commentary that leaves you breathless. When you open the boxes, checking inventory to make sure there had been no issues with your order, you find the book Spencer asked you to get him. It’s one of those special books, so old and unique that you could only get your hands on it because you had contacts in the space. “Huh,” You frown at that– it isn’t like Spencer to forget something. Hell, it isn’t like Spencer to forget anything. Before you can cower away from doing it, you send him a text. You have his number saved in the system, and this feels wrong, it really does. Using his personal information that he gave to you as a client felt wrong. But for a second, it makes you stop biting your nails in anxiety. 

Your book is here. 

It’s Y/N, by the way. 

He doesn’t answer right away and you wallow in your regret for as long as you can. Your shoulders hunch forward as you line up the new arrivals in the shelves. Your frown sits on your forehead all day while you help other passing customers. Your hands brush against the book, all ready and wrapped up and sitting on top of the counter. You hate waiting; you hate waiting for someone or for something to happen as if you’re praying for a miracle. Literature has taught you many lessons in life. It has shown you countless of love stories that could’ve been resolved with a simple conversation. It has told you about people that waited and waited and waited until time passed them away. It has taught you that waiting is simply delaying the inevitable. 

But what literature has not taught you is that, sometimes, waiting truly is all you can do. 

That day, you don’t get a message back. 

You get a call instead. 

“Y/N?” The familiar voice on the other side speaks before you can and your shoulders tense up. Something is wrong. He sounds hoarser than usual, airier, too. 

“Spencer,” You say back, clearing your throat of any remnants or indicators of how nervous you are. “Spencer, are you okay? You sound rough.”

Even his laugh sounds weak and a zap of worry rushes through you. “I’m fine,” He mumbles, and you know he’s saying it out of politeness. “I just got sick. I think I have a cold, it’s nothing much, really.”

The relief that washed over you in crashing waves is almost embarrassing. Even though he is not there to witness it, your face still flushes in a dramatic red. “Oh. I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you–“

“It’s not a bother,” The way his voice interrupts you, so strong and concise, makes you chuckle. “You’re not a bother. I uh, I’m glad to hear my book arrived.”

For a moment, you both stay quiet. You, on your end of the line, are nodding like he can see you. Except he can’t. Except he is waiting, probably, for you to say something. Do something. “I can bring it to you. If you want.”

This time, there is no pause. “Yes. I mean, yes, please. I– I don’t have anything new to read and–” Spencer pauses to cough and you start moving immediately. There is no one in the store and you quickly change the sign to ‘closed’, grabbing his book and your bag before locking the door behind you. There is a pharmacy at the end of the block and you keep your cellphone balanced between your shoulder and ear while your hands make sure you have your wallet with you. “Sorry.”

“No problem at all,” You cross the street in such a hurry that you don’t notice the traffic, getting a symphony of horns calling you out as you run to the other side of the street. “Shit…”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You tease, laughing a little and entering the pharmacy with purpose. “So just a cold, right?”

“Y/N, where are you?”

“Out,” There is no need to be vague, but you don’t want to give him a chance to protest. “I should be at yours in fifteen minutes with the book.”

“Just the book?” He asks in such a suspicious tone that you can’t hold back a laugher. 

“What else?” Thank god for automatic cashiers speeding up this entire process. You are in an out in less than five minutes and before he can even answer, you are almost at his door. Admittedly, you are speed walking, almost running, in a futile attempt to get there sooner. “Which apartment do I buzz?”

“Apartment 23.” And that is the end of the call. 

By the time you make it to his floor, panting just as you hike the last step upwards, he is already waiting for you, and you can’t say you’re terribly bothered to have a man like Spencer Reid waiting for you by the door. “Spencer,” You still admonish, a small smile playing on your lips. “You shouldn’t be out and about like this.” 

“Then who would let you in?” The mischief in his expression, much like that of a child making an innocent joke, makes you giggle, nodding in agreement. “Do you want to come inside? I promise everything is clean, I’m not a slob or anything.”

“Yeah, let me come in so I can give you your stuff.” 

“I knew it wasn’t just the book,” The coughing fit that followed has you rushing your hands, pulling things out of your bag in a desperate attempt to get him the medicine you bought. This had always been your curse, the flustering anxiety of wanting to help but being unable to take your time. Shaky hands push the book towards him, with the medication and some old receipts stuck to it. 

“Oh shit, sorry!” You squeak, grabbing the receipts and shoving it back in your bag. One of these days, you’d have to close the store early to clean this thing. “But uh, yeah, I got you some cold medicine and your book. I’m sure you know this with your big brain and all, but you need to take this before bed, cause it makes you drowsy, and this other one in the morning since it has caffeine! And you should be good in no time… hopefully!”

In life, a pause is not always a bad thing. It’s a time to think. A time to appreciate, to enjoy. It’s a time to be. A pause, however, from the man whose brain worked a thousand miles an hour, doesn’t feel like something to be thankful for. “Is… Do you not like that brand? I didn’t want to get the generic thing, I don’t know why, I–“

“Thank you.”

At first, you barely hear it. For someone whose voice is so rough and hoarse, you’re surprised he can still sound so smooth and airy. Your reaction is obvious; he can see the blush in your cheeks and the way you bite back a smile. “Y/N, thank you, I really appreciate it,” He says it again and now you think he just wants to get a rise of you. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You shrug, faking humbleness while you keen at his praise. “I wanted to.”

“I know.” 

There is a dance that happens after that, one that you find yourself enjoying quite a bit. Spencer is more present than ever, and you’re getting used to having him around. It’s like you two broke the glass wall the kept you at a safe distance, and now is when you two discover each other a bit better. Like how you find out that, when Spencer’s hand lays on the cashier counter, just an inch or less away from yours, you feel the heath that it emanates. Like how your fingers curl and your palms itch at the sight of his shaggy curls falling on top of his beautiful eyes. Like how his laughter is deep when it’s true and dry when it’s forced. Like how he can read 20,000 words per minute, but he chooses to read 183 instead just so he can read you passages out loud.

You are not sure what he has learned about you, or if he even cares to learn something about you, but the thought still makes you smile. “What’s gotten you so smiley so early in the morning?” 

Ah, yes; another thing you’ve learned about Spencer Reid– he is as quiet as mouse when he wants, and as loud as an elephant when he doesn’t. “My god!” You jump, hand immediately going to your heart to try and keep it from beating our of your chest from the shock. “Spence! You scared me!”

“I’m so sorry,” He laughs, raising his hands in the air, shaking the two cups of coffee he is holding. “I come in peace.”

“And with bribery, I like your style.” 

His style doesn’t change, still haven’t. For ages, you think he buys you coffee at the nearby cafe. You don’t really know the name of the place, some cliche Cafe something something, but the one time you’ve been in there the coffee was terrible and the music too loud. It’s hard picturing your shy, smiley book-lover in there, trying to order something without raising his voice. It’s only when you see the go-to paper cups on his counter, on the fourth or fifth time you come around, that you realise Spencer has never gone to that cafe to begin with. 

The cups are still there. You make a point in spotting them every time you come over– next to the microwave, close to the paper towels. The reminder that this man has, in fact, been making you coffee most mornings validates the fluttery feeling you have whenever you think of it. It makes it somewhat logical. “I must be spending too much time with him,” You mumble to yourself, pushing your sleeves up and getting to work. You are there for a reason, and if those wilting plants die on you, you fear that you might just never be invited back. “Why does he even have plants?” 

You don’t know much about Spencer’s job. He hasn’t told you anything about it except that he travels a lot for it, but you can imagine it is something of importance– a man like Spencer was someone of importance, after all. In your mind, you can imagine him walking into an office down by the Financial District, working with big corporations as an advisor. Yes, you can absolutely see him as some sort of advisor or consultant, but something about him working in finances doesn’t sit right with you– he is yet to talk to you about crypto investments and how to better implement a payment system into the store. Shaking your head, you switch it up. Financial services, aren’t quite right, but maybe an editor, working in a publishing house. With the way he devours books and how well-rounded his personal library was, you could see him as a Publishing Director instead, reading manuscript after manuscript. 

The thought of him reading brings a smile to your face. In his living room, there is an armchair that sits next to the large window on the west wall of his apartment– he says he likes how the sunset hits and makes the pages look warm and golden, turning words into a burning fire of knowledge– and you can practically see him there, blanket over his legs, books and books pilled next to it. It’s your own little secret, how every time you come over, you grab a book, any book, and you sit there for thirty minutes, forty, fifty, an hour; until the sun has completely set and you have to get up to turn the lights on. 

Today, when you sit down, when you bring your knees up, when you drape the blanket over you, something feels incredibly right and incredibly wrong. On the pile of books next to you, right at the top, lays a copy of Gulliver’s Travels. If you remember correctly, which you usually do, last time you sat down at that spot you managed to read up to chapter five before the sun was gone. When you grab the book and you see the bookmark you gave Spencer the second time he visited the store, and you frown– usually, he’d pick up from where you left off. “How long has it been since you last came home, Spencer?” You muttered out loud, grabbing the book regardless. Because even when it breaks your heart to know something has been keeping him away from his precious nook, it fuels your heart to know he leaves your book where you can easily pick it up. To know he doesn’t mind you sitting on his armchair, to know he doesn’t mind you reading his books, to know he doesn’t mind you settling, somehow, in his house. 

A knock on his door, however, breaks you away from your precious moment of rest and relaxation. For a moment, you can’t move, frozen in place light a kid that has been caught doing something wrong. It’s only when they knock again that you move, shuffling to the door to look through the peephole. “Who is it?” You ask, voice weak and shaky. 

“I have a delivery for Spencer Reid.”

How silly you feel in that moment, hand over your heart as you take a deep breath in relief. Unlocking the door, you smile to the USPS guy. “Sorry, he isn’t home right now. I can take it for him.” All you have to do is sign it and close the door, but once you put the package on the counter and your eyes catch sight of a note scribbled on top of the box, all those butterflies inside of you slow down. And find perch. And for a second, make you miss them just like you miss him. 

The first time you think Spencer might have a girlfriend is when he comes into the store with a certain look in his face. He is practically glowing and his eyes don’t leave his phone for a second. “What has you smiling like that?” You two are close enough to ask these kind of things now, making jokes about each other as if you have been friends for ages. “Or uh, who?” Even though you started the conversation, you want to end it now. There is a sour aftertaste in your mouth when you suggest another person to be cause of his happiness, and you know, right there and then, that that is just your jealousy speaking. At this point, you’ve been harbouring a crush on Spencer for the almost two months and there’s only so much a girl can take before exploding. 

“Oh, it’s just a friend.” Somehow, this answer doesn’t settle you as much as you hoped it would. 

The second time is when he brings a woman around. She is blonde, and loud, and colourful, and you eye her carefully. They are matching costumes, and for a second, without even saying, you already feel left out. It’s stupid, being this green over someone so pink. If Spencer was purple, and if you are green, than that woman was pink– she is happy and light and exciting. Next to her, you… well, you are as muted as his green walls. “Y/N!” He calls for you with such a big smile and you just don’t have it in you to pretend to be busy anymore. 

“Hey Spencer,” It comes out quiet and a bit distant, but he doesn’t seem to notice, not with the way he is going back and forth on the ball of his heels. “And hello, ma’am. Welcome, I’m Y/N Y/L/N, the owner. Please let me know if you need any help.”

That day, you two barely talk, but that’s okay, because Penelope, as she introduced herself to you after you help her find a specific book on coding, speaks for both of you. She says that it’s lovely to finally meet you, and mentions how much she has heard about you, and you think this is a very cruel thing to do to your poor, squeezing heart. But you push through. You pretend you’re tired, you apologise for the distance, and you lie about a cough. It’s better if they stay away, you say, but Spencer doesn’t buy it. Instead, he buys Penelope her book and leaves with promises of coming back the next day with your usual coffee. 

After that, you don’t see Spencer for two weeks.

It’s a bittersweet feeling when you get the text that he is back. After almost a week and a half without seeing him, you miss Spencer. He created a space for himself in your life and in your store, and when he is gone, it’s just not the same. But just like how he did, you created a space for yourself in his apartment. Suddenly, the muted green walls aren’t claustrophobic or smothering, but comforting. They are safe. Familiar. They are Spencer. And just like you said, you miss Spencer.

“Y/N!” 

You should be happier to hear his voice, but it’s not the same. The fluttering in your stomach is still there, like a slow buzz trying to come alive, but it’s not the same. Not when the note on the box, flashing like neon signs behind your close lids, has been tormenting you and your poor heart ever since you made the mistake of opening the door. “Y/N? Are you here? The door says open…” At one point or another, you have to come out of hiding and face him. Delaying the moment, though, is the best defence plan you’re able to come up with– if you look into Spencer’s eyes, if you see that pretty smile he has every time he comes back from a work trip… you’re fucked. 

“Y/N, I need you to tell me if you’re here!” It’s not the same. 

His voice. It’s not the same.

Usually mellow and undulating, Spencer sounds stiff, like he’s holding something back. Something new. Something… heavy. There is an edge to him right now, so sharp and cutting that it has you stepping out from behind the Science shelf in pure curiosity. And just like people say, curiosity killed the cat. In this case, however, it almost kills you. 

When you turn the corner to find him by the door, the first thing you see is a man. He is tall and handsome and oddly serious. The way his brows are pulled together make you falter, steps slowing down and mouth opening to ask if he needs help.

That’s when you see it. 

More like you catch a quick glimpse of it, the shinning spark of metal to your side, and you do a double take. You have to do a double take. It’s like your brain doesn’t believe what you’re seeing, and you move your head so fast you feel your neck tensing up in that way that makes your eyes water. “WHAT THE FU– OH MY GOD!” There is no way to throw yourself against a wall graciously, arms over your head and fear written all over face. You land in an awkward angle and your shoulder takes the brunt of the shock, making you gasp in pain while your legs give our under you. 

Of all the ways you’ve imagined Spencer, him holding a gun up to your head was never one of them. “Y/N!”

“Oh my god!” You think you might pass out– you’re breathing too fast and your chest is squeezing, squeezing, squeezing to the point of physical pain. There is a ringing in your ears, muffling the entire conversation between Spencer and the other man and even though you try, you can’t look up; you’re frozen in a state of distress. For the first time since you met him, you’re scared of Spencer Reid. “I– I– Oh my god, I c-can’t– I can’t b-breathe, I can’t–“

“Y/N, look at me! Look at me, you’re okay, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” The moment his hand touches your shoulder, you’re shrinking away. 

“Who are you?!” You manage to gasp enough air into your lungs to scream at him. One shake hand moves to the back of your neck, pressing down on the sore nape as you finally move to look at him, crying and all. “Spencer, who are you? Who is he? What is happening? Why do you have a gun in my bookshop, why–“

“Ma’am, I need you to take deep breaths,” The other man quickly holsters his gun and you actually think you might be going insane when flashes you a badge. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer. We are with the FBI.”

Federal Bureau of Investigation. Spencer is a fed. And he never told you. 

“The FBI…?” You whisper, eyes going wide and breath hiccuped in your throat. “S-Spencer, you work for the FBI?” Nothing about this makes sense to you. The gun, forgotten in his left hand and now pointing down and away from you, is all you can look at. The gun that looked heavy and cold. The gun that those hands hold– the same hands you’ve wished and, admittedly, dreamed of holding yours instead. The gun, the gun, the gun.

The gun. You’ve never seen a gun before, not this close. In museums, of course, and in movies and shows, but never in real life. You don’t have interest in it either, having voted, without fail, for anti-gun laws and representatives. Anything and everything about this, about seeing him with that deadly weapon, feels wrong, and you really think you might be sick soon.

“Kid, put it away, you’re freaking her out.” 

Then is when you catch sight of the Spencer you know. It’s the clumsy actions, looking almost freaked out himself– his hands fumble with the holster and it takes him a couple of tries to fit the gun properly. That’s when you know for sure– you are going to be sick. “Trash,” You mumble, trying to get up but falling again and again. “Trash, pass me the–“ But there is no time and you throw up right there and then, between the cashier and the nonfiction section. 

“What just happened?” 

“Morgan, get her some water– there, over the counter,” The rapid successions of words make you feel a bit better, a cadence of tone and rhythm that has your hands finally stabilising. “Y/N, you’re in shock. Adrenaline kicked in and left, and you pressured crashed, which is what made you nauseous. You need water, and to come sit by the counter.”

It’s funny, how in any other circumstance, you’d be ashamed and embarrassed to have gotten ill in front of him. As far as you know, Spencer is a germaphobe and this surely counts as germs. But as he grabs your hands, gentler than you’ve ever seen him grab any book in your store, and brings you to your chair behind the counter, you wonder if he forgot or simply doesn’t care. Both options don’t make sense. “Spence, what is going on?” Your voice comes out winey and rough, and there is no way to hold back the pained wince when you feel the sting spreading through your throat. Sip by sip, you try your best to drink the water and soothe yourself, but nothing seems to help. 

Nothing until you hear him next to you, small and quiet and, dare you say, meek. “I’m sorry.”

As much as you’d like to tell him he has nothing to be sorry for, he does. “I see…”

“It was just… it was new, having someone not know I’m FBI,” His thumbs play with each other and you’ve known him long enough to recognise that Spencer is nervous. “And we started getting closer and I just didn’t find an opportunity to tell you.”

“There were plenty,” You clarify, feeling a bit of a bitch for the bite in your voice making him gulp. “But it’s okay. I’m not… I’m not anything of yours, I guess, so it’s okay. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t say that. You’re my friend.” That hurt.

“Do you point a gun at all your friends or am I just special, Spence?” It is supposed to be a joke, but the memory makes your bottom lip start wobbling again and you feel stupid. You feel so, so incredibly stupid right now that you can’t even begin to explain why. “Sorry, I’m just– I’m not okay.”

“I know, and we’re sorry,” There is such raw honesty in his words and he manages to make you smile a little. Your hand is still shaking, but you stretch it out towards him regardless. It’s a conscious decision to hold onto his wrist, covered by his jacket, than to reach out for his palm, and from the way he looks at you, you know he recognises the effort. “But you need to come with us.”

“Why?” You cry out, a single tear coming out of the corner of your eye. At this point, the shock is going away and you’re more overwhelmed than anything else. You’re scared and confused and overwhelmed and it’s his pulse, beating again and again, that brings you back to Earth. “Why do I need to go with you? What is going on?”

“Y/N, when you were housesitting for me, you received a package, right?”

In the midst of everything, the memory of that day, that box, that note, all fade. Frowning, you shrugged. “The delivery man knocked and said he had a package for you… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I–“

“No, no, no, you didn’t, you didn’t. Please.”

“Ma’am, when you signed for the package, did you use your name?” The man, Morgan, ask, and all you do is nod. Of course you signed with your name. “Kid, we need to take her to the office now.”

“I am not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on!”

Finally, some energy in you. Some strength. Your voice echoes in the empty shop, and the chair tips back when you stand up on stiff legs. Looking at Spencer is hard, when you feel the burning of your rage inside, but you still do; you still meet those pretty brown eyes, you still stare him down until you practically force the answers off of him. “The package… did you see who it was from?” 

“Spencer, are you insinuating you’ve pointed a gun at me because I read a message your girlfriend wrote on the package she sent you?! Because I didn’t mean to– I didn’t! It just… It was there, right at the top and I–“

“She is not my girlfriend,” He immediately cut you off, hands waving in front of him in a visual demonstration of desperate denial. “Not at all! I don’t have a girlfriend! I was–“

“We can deal with this later,” Morgan is quick to interrupt, sighing as he looked at you. “Y/N, we re really sorry to disrupt you like this, but this is for your own protection. Please lock the store and let’s go.”

It takes time for you to gather everything you need. You are not a disorganised person by any means, but suddenly, you can’t remember where you put what. Your bag is thrown under the cashier, and your keys are, for some reason, in the Fiction shelf. Your glasses are in your head the entire time, and Morgan has to point that out to you. The more you look, the more flustered you get, yet somehow, you make it to the car. Morgan is driving and Spencer is on the passenger seat, and the way they keep talking to each other using words that make no sense to you make you want to scream. “Spencer.”

The heaviness of his name, said with such emotion,, lingered in the air. His eyes meet yours through the rearview mirror, and he nods. “Yeah?"

“Spencer,” You whisper again, eyes wide in shock as reality starts to dawn. “Spencer, if she’s not your girlfriend, then who the fuck is Cat Adams?”

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

AAAAAhhhhh I'm trying something new >.< I've been a massive criminal minds fan for a long, long time and Dr. Spencer Reid has my heart <3

Please let me know what you think, this is my first Spencer fic and I'd love if it got to turn into a series!

[crevicedwelling]

I see at least one cool bug a day, and usually many more, but it’s not because I live anywhere particularly rich in strange, wonderful creatures (I live in an unremarkable corner of Pennsylvania, USA) or spend all of my free time looking for bugs (well, just *most* of it). in my experience, finding interesting bugs is less about actually locating them and more about looking closely at tiny things you’d otherwise ignore!

this very long post was compiled over a couple days in late July, although I spent less than 10 minutes at a time searching. there’s a lot of fun creatures just out in the open.

plants are always a good place to start when looking for bugs, and I chose this small fig tree (Ficus carica) with a mulberry sapling friend. feeding on the sap of the fig and mulberry is the first group I’ll take a look at, the planthoppers:

these two are flatid bugs, Metcalfa pruinosa and Flatormenis proxima. flatids are slow-moving bugs that can be approached closely, but once they get tired of circling around stems to avoid you they may launch themselves into a fluttering flight with spring-loaded rear legs.

Aplos simplex, a member of the related family Issidae, also likes fig sap. its “tail” is actually a tuft of waxy secretions, which get shed along with the bright colors when it assumes a lumpy, bean-shaped adult form.

cicadellids, or leafhoppers, are just about everywhere on plants, but can be hard to approach without scaring them.

Agallia constricta on the left is a tiny species that feeds on grass, but many were scared up onto the fig by my footsteps. Jikradia olitoria is a much larger species that does feed on the fig; juveniles like this are curled, creeping goblins while adults’ rounded wings give them a pill-shaped appearance.

this big, pale leafhopper belongs to genus Gyponana. it’s tricky to get to species ID with these.

Graphocephala are striking little hoppers that eat a variety of native and nonnative plants. G. coccinea is the larger, more boldly colored one and G. versuta is smaller but more common locally. they’ll sit on the tops of leaves but take flight if you get too close quickly.

another group you’re almost guaranteed to encounter are flies (Diptera). these are a very diverse group, so much more than houseflies and mosquitoes (though I did run into both)

where I live, any plant with broad leaves is almost guaranteed to have a few Condylostylus, long-legged flies that come in shades of blue, green, and red. despite their dainty physique, they’re agile predators, typically feeding on other small flies.

next, a few hoverflies: the ubiquitous Toxomerus geminatus and a Eumerus that I’ve been seeing a lot of this year (but maybe I’ve just noticed them for the first time). syrphids have varied life histories, but most adults drink nectar and many of the larvae are predaceous on aphids.

the metallic green soldier fly is Microchrysa flaviventris, nonnative here. Coenosia is a fun example of a “fly that looks like a fly,” with big red eyes and a gray body, and you might think they’re just another dung-sucking pest, but they’re actually aggressive predators! this one seemed to have nabbed itself some sort of nematoceran fly, maybe a fungus gnat.

many flies are very tiny, just millimeters long. the first two little fellows are lauxaniids, while the last one, an agromyzid leafminer Cerodontha dorsalis, burrows through grass leaves as a larva.

while moths and butterflies (Lepidoptera) are drawn to plants for their flowers or to lay eggs, many small moths can easily be found resting on or under leaves during the day.

these first two are tortricids, many of which are flat, rectangular moths resembling chips of bark or dead leaves. the apple bud moth, Platynota idaeusalis, feeds on a wide variety of hosts, while this beat-up old Argyrotaenia pinatubana would have developed in an edible tube nest of pine needles.

Callima argenticinctella feeds in bark and dead wood (a resource used by more caterpillars than you’d realize!) while the last moth, possibly an Aspilanta, is a leafminer.

although beetles (Coleoptera) are famous for their diversity, I didn’t find too many on the fig. the invasive Oriental beetle Exomala orientalis resting here can be found in a wide range of colors, from this common tan to to deep iridescent black. the other beetle is a Photinus pyralis firefly, sleeping under leaves as fireflies do.

a few spare hemipterans: a Kleidocerys resedae that blew in on a wind, and below, the mulberry whitefly Tetraleurodes mori feeds on its namesake host. as for Hymenoptera, I saw manny tiny parasitic braconid wasps and various ants attracted to the planthoppers’ honeydew excretions—always worth checking underneath roosting hoppers for things having a drink.

a couple handsome spider boys were scrambling through the fig seeking females, a jumping spider Paraphidippus aurantius and an orbweaver, Mecynogea lemniscata.

and to round it off, a young Conocephalus meadow katydid and a Carolina mantis, Stagmomantis carolina.

there’s 31 species of arthropod in this post, and I probably saw some 45, not all of which stayed for photos. if you walk slowly and look closely, you can see a sizeable chunk of your local biodiversity in under fifteen minutes! of course this will depend on where you live and what time of year it is, but there’s almost always more cool bugs out there than you’d expect, even on just a single plant.

[monicahar]

drunken nights.

when they get a bit too wasted...

characters; cyno, scaramouche, tighnari, kazuha, nilou, shenhe

; gn! reader, alcohol/drinking, established relationship, slight nsw themes of scara's hehe, this is so unnecessarily long

if you somehow manage to get this man to drink away his burdens, CYNO would be the goofy type of drunk. usually, he'd keep his jokes to himself, waiting for an opportunity to insert them in a conversation. but when he's utterly besotted, that boundary completely disappears into thin air. think of it as a barn of chickens, once his mental capacity is impaired due to drinking, all those chickens escape, about to enforce chaos. you and your friends now have to listen to his horrible jokes throughout the entire night, even if they have no correlation to the topic of the conversation whatsoever. it also doesn't help a bit that he contagiously cackles at all of his jokes. his soar laughing fills the entire table with a sense of melancholy. even after you both get home, he's still cracking horrible jokes whilst you're trying to shove water down his throat.

“hey, hey, [name], do you know why I love you so dearly?” you stay quiet, minding your own business until he suddenly wraps his arms around you—earning a small yelp as he breaths down your ear. “because you're perfect.” “cyno...that's not even funny...” you struggle to surpress the incoming blush. “it's not a joke, you walnut...”

if SCARAMOUCHE ever entertains the thought of getting drunk to momentarily forget his burdens, he'd probably only want to do it alone with you. which is why you're both now in his inazuman-styled bedroom, cups of sake in each other's hands as you both quietly talk just about anything, throwing in some insults here and there because we know how he is. i see him becoming almost becoming a completely different person when drunk. he's more chill, and is definitely a lot more talkative than when he's sober. “i saw a cat today, it reminded me of you.” you lean onto his shoulder, feeling the headache already. “was it mean to you?” he throws a slight glare. “bingo. it was cute though. much like you.” he doesn't have the heart to get mad at the moment. not because he's drunk or anything, but because of how grazing hot your skin is against his. both of your kimonos are loosened due to the growing heat of the room.

he catches a glimpse of your bare shoulders and collarbone, a canvas ready for him to paint with...ahem. suddenly feeling a carnal desire burn inside him, he quickly shifts his position, looking more carefully at your flushed face, dilated eyes as you breath heavily. “kuni, is it just me or is it getting warmer—” you're unable to finish talking as he crashes his lips onto yours. good night ;)

TIGHNARI would be too refined and busy for such activities, so i will use his status as a researcher to my advantage. he's come across a wide variety of plants, but one of your favourite discoveries of his would be that one particular mushroom that enacts alcoholic symptoms upon a living being that consumes it. you both come across it during an expedition, and unsurprisingly—he wants to see its capabilities, ordering you to record it's effects, and to bring him back to ghandarva ville if it turns out serious. he chews on it, slightly grimacing at the taste before he says he feels nothing. making sure to take a sample, you both trudge home just in case it has delayed effects. his guess was right it seems, much to his dismay. you remind yourself to record the effects as he had instructed, but...he's so cute! you can't help but coo at his flushed state, clinging onto your waist as he babbles about nonsense.

“okay, tighnari...i have to write your paper, let go of me for a bit...!” you freeze when he slightly growls in annoyance, tightening his grip on you. his tail wags when you start rubbing his ears, “no...forget it for now...it's just some alcoholic shroom anyways...” “it could turn out more serious, you know?” “don't care...just stay close to me.” he says that, but the very next morning—he's now scolding you for getting distracted from your objective. you had it coming.

we've all seen it. the legendary drunk KAZUHA during the golden archipelago event. he's canonly a slurring mess when drunk, much contrary to his usual poetic self. he leans onto your shoulder, hugging your arm as he coos at how “beauti'fuuul” you are. you can hear venti snicker in the background, earning him a glare from you. he raises his hands in defense and winks, "ehe, he's really intoxicated, isn't he? not just by the beverage, but by you as well." "how romantic!” xinyan cheers. deliberately returning your gaze towards your drunked lover. “kazu, it's time to go home. stand up for me will you?” you attempt to pull him up, but you're surprised to see that he immediately shoots up from his seat, swaying a bit from his dizziness. “hehe, anything'fo my super amaziiiing luvwer...” it reliefs you to know that he still recognises you despite not being fully rational at the moment. arriving at the inn you both rented a night for, you clean him up before plopping down on the bed, exhaustion taking over your sense as he suddenly crawls over you.

“kazu, you need to sleep early. we have a trip tomorrow...” he pays no mind to what you said, leaving butterfly kisses on your neck as you tremble under his hold. this is escalating a bit too fast, you think as you slightly lean back. “mm, i'll sleep, dun' worry...” he hums, muttering an apology onto your neck before snoozing off. what a handful.

as a renowned dancer in sumeru, NILOU is often invited to many parties or celebrations. after dancing for her audience, she'd of course get invited by people to their tables, in hopes of getting to compliment her for the amazing performance. she never drinks alcohol though, choosing to drink juice to maintain her composure and image. except for that one time you were getting forced to drink, but obviously didn't want to so she drank a cup in your stead, earning howls of laughter from your fellow buddies. “how bold of you.” you tease her, causing her to blush. “it's just—you seemed uncomfortable so...” “you're lightweight though. will you be alright? sorry in advance if this gets you in trouble with your manager.” ahhh. :D she completely forgot about that part. raising a brow at the way her expression freezes, you giggle at her usual airhead self. “don't worry. i'll explain it to them in person.” you hold her hand as she starts to sway, her eyes staring to close from the headache that's already growing. that cup of sake was probably a bit too much for what she can handle.

as she's currently freed from her subconscious need of containing her image, she's now smiling like an idiot as she leans onto you, hugging your waist as she nuzzles her face onto your neck. her thoughts are eventually blurred as she starts doze off, only thinking about the way you smell very nice.

someone who you'd never expect to be a fun drinking buddy would be SHENHE. the line that her red seal creates between her soul and her emotions are blurred when she gets intoxicated. choosing to get drunk with you would mean she's intentionally dropping her guard around you, wanting you to see a more vulnerable side of hers. "i often wondered if me having an adeptus's diet would affect how alcohol would take effect in my body. turns out, no...this drink is a dangerous weapon.” you snort at the seriousness in her tone, “yes, very dangerous indeed.” she perks up all of sudden. “your laugh just now.” you blink at her statement. what was wrong with your laugh? you tilt your head, beckoning her to continue. “it was very...cute...? is that how you use that word?” “you only found it cute just now?” you say with a false expression of hurt. “i never thought you to be so cruel with me shenhe...” she tilts her head much like you did earlier. “i've always thought it was 'cute'. i have to constantly tell you?”

you slightly pout, “yes. you do. i want affirmation from you too, you know.” and with that, she suddenly stands up, leaving her cup at her side of the table as she makes her way towards you, abruptly leaning down as she awkwardly cradles your face with her hand. you can smell the alcohol from her lips as your breath hitches. “[name], you're cute.” the words come out more stiff than she intended, but you still found it heartwarming nonetheless.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Three for One 10

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you’re used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what’s on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Happy Christmas Eve.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 💞

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

A mess of wrapping paper and gift bags litter the floor around you. Their contents are just as neglectfully strewn across the room, forgotten for the desecration bartered with their giving. Reality blurs between the three men as you’re passed between them, bent, contorted, twisted exactly how they want you.

Your thighs quiver as you’re left to fall onto your ass, heaving as you lean against the end of the section. Fuzzy-brained and bleary-eyed you watch a dark figure bend and the crinkle of paper triggers something in you. The urge to flee courses up from your stomach though you don’t have the strength to heed it.

“Mine,” Andy declares and drops a box beside your foot. You blink and don’t move.

“What the hell, dude? You’re up our asses about rules–” Lloyd challenges.

“Stop whining,” Andy growls back.

You shudder as you remain paralysed in the fog. The box hits your leg as it’s kicked towards you. You reach shakily, not sitting forward, and drag it into your lap. Your hands work without seeing. You pull free a thick ribbon and flick the lid off with your thumb. You feel the soft fabric inside, cashmere maybe? You wouldn’t know.

“Come on, honey,” Andy has you by the arm in an instant.

As he hauls you to your feet, the box and sweater falling forgotten from your lap, he stops. You’re caught in the vice of his grip as his arm stretches past another figure standing almost between you. Andy squeezes harder as he flinches, Lloyd jabbing a finger in his chest. You blink as you struggle to process the scene.

“If all rules are off, then you better not say fucking shit,” Lloyd snarls.

Andy shoves him away, ignoring him as he guides you back until your legs touch the sectional. You have only the gold medallion necklace and stockings left on you. The socks have rumpled below your knees unevenly as the gold charm sticks to your sweaty flesh.  

He eases you down onto your back and you sigh as your body relaxes instinctively. You’re not thinking straight. You’re clinging to the hope that this is over, or close too. You can’t take much more. They can’t do this all day.

Andy pulls off his sweater as he puffs. His exasperation tinges the air thickly. The other men loom behind him grumbling.

You wince as Andy pushes your knees wide. You try to close them but he plants one of his own between them. You whimper as your swollen cunt throbs. 

“Please,” you beg weakly, reaching to cover your pelvis.

“It’s okay, honey,” Andy sets a hand next to your head to hold himself over you, “we’re getting to the good part.”

“Fucking lame…” Ransom mutters.

You wriggle and put your other hand on Andy’s chest, “please,” you repeat.

“Shh, honey, I’m gonna be good to you,” he feels along your thigh and your insides clench. It’s not over.

You could sob as he touches your folds. You’re overwrought to the point of delirium. He slides between your lips, still slick from your last falling apart. He rubs your clit until you squeak, taking it as an invitation to do more. He dips his fingers into you and back out, repeating the act as your walls squeeze him each time.

He hushes you again as you babble. He pulls his thick fingers out and spreads your cunt wide. He shifts, jarring his hips around as he drops to an elbow. How breath scalds down your face and neck as he puffs through his nose.

He pokes his tip between his knuckles, grunting as he tilts his hips. It’s then you realise what he means to do. He stretches you around his head and you whine as you sink your nails into the furry muscles along his chest. You press your other hand to his hip, repeating again your pathetic plea.

“Always taking his fucking time,” Lloyd hisses, “gonna be all day before he gets his balls wet.”

“Is that good, honey?” Andy pets your forehead as he inches into you. 

You bed your legs and squeak. You can barely breathe as you strain to take him in. Your already tender cunt thrums around his intrusion. His small rocking motion jostles you as he tries to ease deeper and deeper. He stops halfway as you cry out, the resistance of your body trapping him.

“Just relax,” he coos as he frames your face, kissing your forehead, “relax,” he coaxes, hips still in rhythm as he battles past the barrier, “honey, I’m being… nice.”

He grunts and snaps his hips, breaking past your last defenses. You wail as you push on his pelvis, still trying to stop him. Your hand trails over to his stomach, slightly soft and as thick as the rest of him. There’s an extra layer of fat there unlike the other men and their firm abs.

“I’m fucking bored,” Lloyd growls but you can’t track his movement as Andy blocks out the room with his body.

You grit your teeth as he reaches his limit, well past your own. You arch your back and feet as you bring both your hands to his shoulders. Your eyes wet and roll back as you garble senselessly. You want him to stop. He said he wouldn’t let them hurt you but here he is, hurting you himself.

Andy’s arm slips under your neck, propping your head up as he covers your mouth with his own. That kiss disgusts you. A manufactured gesture of affection all while he violates you. You want to bite him and spit in his face. You don’t have the energy, you just let it happen. You let his tongue slip inside, you let him split you in two.

There’s another crumple of paper. You don’t react. You’re limp, nearly lifeless beneath Andy as he fucks you with long strokes. Your eyes slit just enough to see as something lands beside you on the couch. Another torn remnant of wrapping paper.

“What do you know?” Lloyd clucks, “it’s one of mine.”

There’s a slap of flesh that has Andy ramming harder into you as he parts from your mouth and grunts.

“Come on, big boy, turn her over.”

“Fuck off,” Andy sneers.

“This isn’t the deal. Turn her over,” Lloyd insists, “it’s two against one if you wanna fuck around and find out.”

Ransom shadow lurks closer as your eyes drift. Andy sighs and curls his arm tighter around your neck while hooking the other around your waist. He sinks down into you and turns you over with him, bringing himself under you. The hard zipper of his open fly bites into you.

You lay bent over him, your head lolling over his shoulder as you shiver with the new flow of cool air across your back. There’s the crinkle of plastic behind you. You don’t care. It can’t be worse if you don’t know what’s going on.

Andy frames your hip and keeps you moving on him. Your legs are weak and jittery as you straddle him. His other hand comes to your chin and he lifts your head, holding you above him as he once more draws you into a desperate kiss. A kiss laced in denial and delusion.

There’s a pinch on your ass and you squeal into Andy’s mouth. The sharp tweak is followed by a jarring slap across the flesh. Lloyd snickers and a cold liquid oozes between your cheeks. You clench at the slimy liquid leaking around your puckered hole.

“I got the flavoured stuff, pussy cat,” he clicks a cap as your ears prick, your eyes searching side to side.

Lloyd’s fingers slip between your cheeks and he circles around your hole. You whimper but Andy keeps you locked in, hand curling around your hip as his other stretches across your throat. The tickle against your tight ring turns to a stinging burn as a thick finger pushes inside, wiggling as it tests your resistance.

You nearly bite Andy as your eyes well. He pushes you away from his mouth as you heave and struggle to bear through the fiery pain radiating from your ass. Lloyd pushes to his first knuckle, then his second, and finally the last. You eke out tiny noises as you struggle to catch your breath.

Andy hushes as he rocks from below, still fucking you, still using you despite this new trespass. You dig your nails into his chest, arms trapped between your bodies, and quiver.

“H-urts,” you babble, “please…”

“Shhh, you’ll be okay,” Andy rasps.

Lloyd snickers as he pulls his finger out and lines up a second. You squeeze your eyes shut and tense as he forces in two that time. He’s less patient as he bulldozes inside, wiggling his fingers inside you once more. He thrusts in and out, the flames licking hotter and hotter.

He pulls his fingers all the way out and licks you instead. The sensation is almost soothing as he laps at your hole. He greedily swirls his tongue, pausing to poke his fingers in a few times, then resumes his loud, gross licking. 

The razing sensation of Lloyd’s tending mingles with the pressure of Andy inside you. Your walls twitch as you feel the coil winding tight. No, it shouldn’t feel good. Stop, please stop. 

Lloyd buries his fingers, keeping them deep, tilting his hand against you as he curls his knuckles. You can feel it in your cunt along with Andy’s steady motion. You bubble over and whine as you cum, both holes spasming as you succumb to the wave of rolling pleasure.

Andy growls as Lloyd snickers and slides his fingers free. You sense a shift behind you but the grip on your neck keeps you from looking. 

“Go for it,” Lloyd chuckles, “loosened her up nice and good for you.”

Another drizzle of cold lube drips down to your now burning hole. You flinch as two hands spread over your cheeks and pull them wide. Ransom pushes your ass together before smacking it. The impact scours your flesh.

He hums and slides his dick between your cheeks. His rigid length glides between the oily flesh as he leans over you, one hand on the armrest to keep himself on his feet. He rocks as he slickens his dick from tip to base before lining up with your hole.

He pushes the head of his dick against you, grunting as he leans his weight into you. You let out a shrill cry as he forces his way inside. Even just his tip is enough to break you. Tears spring free and stream down your cheeks.

He jerks his hips, ramming deeper than you’re ready for. You wail and grasp Andy’s wrist as he nearly chokes your voice out of you. Your eyes meet his, blurry with your agony, but you see the glint in his irises. That tic in his cheek. He’s lost in what he wants. You see him clearly. Selfish, a liar.

Ransom puts his knee on the end of the section as he thrusts again, deeper and deeper. As he does, Andy moves you between them in tandem. The crush of them around you is suffocating. The air is sticky and roiling around you. 

Your heart hammers as terror takes over. There is no pleasure to be found anymore. Your chest feels ready to burst as you pant through your constricted throat. Your head pounds as you hyperventilate through your nostrils.

Your hand is pulled away from Andy’s shoulder. Your fingers are once more closed around a rigid length, held closed by another to pump up and down. Your eyes flutter and flip back into your head. Your ears buzz and your body grows heavy. You feel yourself fading as you can’t get enough air into your lungs.

Ransom ruts harder from behind, jolting you into Andy. The fullness is painful and all-consuming. They work together, torturing your insides as one slides in only for the other to slide in. You are overflowing and overstimulated.

Your arm shakes and aches as Lloyd keeps it moving. He groans as he steps closer, his shadow cast over you. He grabs your chin to turn your hand above Andy’s knuckles. He groans as he keeps your hand moving around him. He grunts and aims his tip down, spurting all down your face, from your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, to your chin.

He drags his throbbing head through the glaze of his cum. He smears it all around and pushes his tip against your lips. He snickers meanly as he pushes between your lips. You taste the salty repugnance and nearly gag. You’re too tired, too weak to be disgusted. 

He fucks your mouth casually as Andy keeps you in place for him. He relents only as you feel him starting to go soft. He slides out and steps back, letting out an emphatic sigh of satisfaction. He taps your cheek with a cluck.

“Look at the little pussy cat,” he mocks. “Not so fucking smiley now.”

You blink and your head falls over Andy’s grip. Then the rest of you slackens. You’re a doll, lifeless between the men, a thing to be played with. You welcome your descent into the abyss, your only escape from this hell.

[seabirdtxt]

Hey, back at it with a request. I wanted to dump you with requests, but I also know that it takes you a bit to write, and I didn't want to overwhelm you ^^"""

Honestly though, with the requests I have in mind, I have a feeling they're going to become a spinoff series called "In which the Puppets learn the Creator is really, really bizarre."

With that said, this request will consist of some habits I have, and how our puppet boys would react to them! That being: reader is a night owl magpie who likes to collect a number of things. Whatever sparks their fancy, they hoard (It's why the Traveller has such a hoarding problem in the first place).

They collect some semi-formal things, like flowers and different plants, and like shiny rocks (Reader is familiar with the Language of Flowers, and I can fully see them and Kabukimono spending hours going over them. With Scara, Reader finds a piece of Rose Quartz in the shape of a heart and gives it to him, saying "You said you wanted a heart, right? Here you go! I know it isn't a real heart, but that's okay: because you already have a real one!")

But then they have the weird stuff they collect, like bones -and teeth -and scales - and bugs (Scara or Wanderer: "Why do you have this?" Reader, holding up the carcass of a beetle: "I just think they're neat!")

Or the worse part: literal trash. I'm talking broken pieces of glass and random metal parts, and like old candy wrappers that they've been keeping. (Again: Scara or Wanderer: "Get rid of this." Reader: "But it has sentimental value-!!!" S or W: "IT IS LITERALLY TRASH!!!")

But yes. Reader is a hoarder of many things.

i love this LOL i also hoard some pretty random things so like 🤝

(Might not have touched on all the same points as your ask bc i tried to keep it in-universe, but i tried to hit the major themes of each!)

WC. 1.5k

----- ⚘ -----

Flowers and Gems: Kabukimono

This collection is one of your gentler ones, and you take care to replenish it often with new blooms and interesting stones you pick up along your way. There is so much more novelty to collect here than back on earth, after all!

Kabukimono is fascinated by the variety of it, begging to be taken along with you the next time you venture out into the world to add more to your stash, and maybe take inspiration to start a collection of his own! It takes a bit of convincing, but you eventually relent and allow him to accompany you.

He follows you with wide eyes and an awed grin, asking you all about the various plants that the pair of you come across. You try to remember them as best as you can, reciting what you remember from the ingame tooltips.

“Wow! What’s this one?” Kabukimono asks, bounding up to a reddish pink bush. He delicately plucks one of the flowers, showing it to you proudly.

“That’s a silk flower!” You tell him, smiling as you take the flower from his hand. He only smiles and picks himself another one. “The people in Liyue can process them and make them into a very fine fabric!”

Kabukimono nods in understanding. “That makes sense! I know lots of kimono makers back home often talk about the quality of fabric from Liyue.”

“Fun fact,” you add, “back in my world, silk is such a sturdy material that it can resist piercing damage, to a certain extent! But it is very weak to slashing, or cutting damage.”

“That’s so interesting!” Kabukimono’s eyes go wider at the information. “I wonder if that's true of the silk from this world, too!”

“We probably shouldn’t, y’know… test it or anything,” you interrupt him before he lets his curiosity get the better of him. “We can probably ask a seamstress about it later.”

“Ohhh, good thinking.” Kabukimono agrees. He pockets his flower and looks around the area, scouting for the next object to collect. “Hey, do you have an electro crystal, yet? I heard you can only mine them using pyro!”

You let Kabukimono lead you to your next destination, already planning to press the new flower for your collection. Distantly, you wonder how the two of you are going to get an electro crystal, considering neither of you have pyro visions.

----- ⚘ -----

Beetles and Bones: Wanderer

“I went back to Springvale to ask if those hunters still had some of those ancient boar bones,” is what you say, offering a sheepish grin to Wanderer, who stares down at you with his arms crossed. In all honesty, you probably deserve the scrutiny for having somehow escaped his supervision for several hours.

“Did you at least get the, uh,,” Wanderer gestures at the cloth bag you’re holding in your arms. “Special bones you were looking for?”

“Yeah!” You exclaim, shaking the bag excitedly. It makes a rattling noise as you move. “Do you want to see them?”

You don’t wait to hear the answer, instead leading the way to your room, where part of your collection resides. You hear Wanderer step in and close the door behind you, waiting in curious silence as you carefully put your bag on your bed, pulling open the drawstring with reverence.

One by one, you bring out the intact bones the hunters were able to unearth from you. You brush off some of the remaining dust, then you begin laying them out on your bed in their approximate positions.

“That’s your special ancient boar?” Wanderer asks, sidling up to you and looking at the bones with you.

“Yes!” You finally place the jawless skull at the top of the unfinished skeleton, putting your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “I found it during a quest when I was still guiding the Traveler. I knew I had to have it in my collection when I got here!”

“Fair enough,” Wanderer nods. “Can I see the rest of your stuff?”

You are more than eager to show off the cool stuff you’ve been hoarding since your arrival in Teyvat, from smaller animal bones, to surprisingly intact shed lizard skins and molted duskbird feathers, and even some hollow onikabuto shells.

Wanderer picks up each one with care, mindful of your enthusiasm for your strange collection. He turns each object over slowly, inspecting them as you’re explaining the particularities of your collection.

“Hey, do you mind if I borrow some of these?” Wanderer eventually asks, as you’re nearing the end of your impromptu lecture. “I’ve got this Amurta elective that I haven’t started my project for, and some of these are interesting enough. I could probably write something about them.”

Your sudden silence is worrying, and he’s quick to backpedal in case he’d offended you in some way.

“Or, forget it, I mean-” he turns and pretends to scratch his nose to hide the dumb expression he knows he must be making. “I know this is all probably hard to get, so if you don’t want to risk it getting broken or stolen…”

“I would love to share it with you!!” Your sudden shout scares him out of his foul mood, and he looks at you in bemusement. Your eyes are wide and shiny, matching the stupid grin that settles on your face. Just as he’s about to reply, you leap up and scramble for one of the unopened drawers.

You proudly present a wooden box, and when you open it Wanderer can see the interior is padded and separated with thin wooden strips, creating protected compartments just big enough to fit some of the larger items in your collection.

“You’ve got to take extra good care of this stuff, okay?” You instruct him, and you help him pack the items he’d chosen into your carrying case. “I mean, I can probably find some of this stuff again, but the more delicate things are harder to come by. Promise you’ll be careful?”

He looks up at you, closing the lid of the box slowly and fastening it shut. “Yeah, I promise,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

----- ⚘ -----

Literal Garbage: Scaramouche

“You’re throwing this shit out, right?”

The noise you make, of absolute disgust and denial, is enough to make Scaramouche second guess his own words for a moment. He recovers faster than you’d give him credit for, picking up the broken clay jar and the dull shard of a broken sword. He holds up both in front of you, an accusing glare pinning you.

“Does this look like normal stuff to collect, to you?” he demands, tossing both back into the bin where he’d found them, retrieving a foil candy wrapper and a graphite pencil with no nib. Again, he discards both items with a noise of exasperation. “None of this stuff has any use! It’s all just garbage! Where do you even find this?!”

“Like,” you say, shuffling closer to your collection bin and putting the cover back on it slowly. “On the ground and stuff? I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose with a loud sigh, but doesn’t make any move to reopen the bin. “You’re seriously testing my patience, here. Why are you collecting all this garbage? Can’t you collect something less… bizarre? Like seashells, or something.”

“I have some of those, too!”

“Not the point, here!”

You look down where your hands are pressing down on the lid of the bin, then back up at Scaramouche with a bit of a pout.

“Are you really making me throw it all out?” You ask, pitifully. He takes one look at you and grumbles with displeasure.

“That’s not what I said,” he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks down his nose at you. “You want to waste your time picking up other people’s trash and pretending it has meaning to you? Fine, be my guest. But don’t come crying to me when you realize you’re stuck with a container full of useless junk that nobody wanted anymore.”

“Sometimes, even the things that people feel have no practical use can be worth a lot to someone else,” you tell him. “Things don’t have to be worth anything to be wanted.”

Scaramouche chews on your words for a moment, then shrugs. “Sure, whatever you say, I guess.”

He doesn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so you tentatively open the bin and reach inside, fishing around until your fingertips grasp what you’re looking for.

“Are you sure you don’t recognize this one?” You ask, holding up the candy wrapper so he can see it. He scrunches up his nose at the offending item.

“Am I supposed to?”

“It’s from that festival in Inazuma,” you smile, bringing the wrapper to yourself gently. “The one you guys took me to when you found out I hadn’t been to one before.”

Scaramouche looks at it closer, out of the corner of his eye. He lets his shoulders slump and shakes his head with a huff.

“Whatever,” he says. “The rest of it is garbage, though.”

You put the wrapper away with a cheeky grin.

[strqyr]

to show her gratitude to his reluctant hospitality, the girl retrieved a handful of seeds from her basket and planted them in the wizard's garden. <- needless to say, the vacuans' hospitality is fairly reluctant, for understandable reasons.

"i have always been good at making things grow," spring said. [...] together they planted a garden all around [the hermit's] house and every day they tended it. they gathered the fruits and vegetables that grew at an extraordinary rate, and their meals greatly improved due to the fresh food and the lively company. gradually life returned to the tired hermit and the forest, which flourished and became green and lush. <- vacuo used to be lush and full of life before the colonization, and based on the epilogue, after the refugees arrived rationing food (and possibly water as well) is necessary.

but could that change?

in the fairy tale, spring is associated with growing things, providing food that way, as well as returning life to areas such as the forest near the wizard's abode... so why not bring it back to the desert, as well?

a desert bloom is a phenomenon that occurs on various deserts; after an unusually high rainfall, wide variety of flowers bloom and change the look of the landscape for some time.

add some magic, and that would probably be enough to make vacuo bloom. all it needs is a little rain, admittedly on a rather large area, but when you've already showcased your powers like this...

i don't think that's too much of an ask, right?

[waddleonmywaywardducks]

Broke witch tips

So, if you've been practicing for a while, you may already know how expensive it is to be a witch. With spirituality on the rise, america has obviously found a way to make connecting with yourself and the world around you expensive, with metaphysical shops overpricing herbs, crystals, and even candles for deities, it's really becoming harder and harder to find things that won't break your bank but also provide for your craft as well. So I've decided to make a post about how to avoid spending all this money on watered down capitalistic spirituality. Let's began

Connecting with your surroundings...

Whether you live in a bustling city, a quiet beach side town, or maybe you might be surrounded with country hicks (aka, southern Texas lol), there will always be a way to connect with your world. I understand that it might be harder to connect with your surroundings if you live in city filled with concrete instead of lushious green fields. So here are some ways I've connected with my surroundings while living in the city.

- find near by forests, whether it's a national park or just a regular forest, this will allow you to not only connect with your local plants and nature spirits. Finding a forest near you will also allow you to gather resources for your craft as well (more on this later).

- connect with your community, this could be your neighborhood, gsa clubs, really any school clubs, going to community events. Just find any way to connect with the people in your area. The community Ive made in my small town allows me grow stronger with my surroundings. We go on walks, to shops, thrift stores. I recommend this because getting out in the world and walking next to people you can relate to will make you feel more at home.

- go on walks/drive around. This might be far fetched but I connect more with my surroundings when I'm looking around for places to go. I get to see how my surroundings react to the world around me and I start to become more familiar with the wildlife and plant life of my town.

I honestly didn't live in the city for long. Once I moved out of my mother's house I immediately went back to rural towns. I've just always felt more at home here. So I'm sorry if this doesn't really help

Why I avoid metaphysical shops...

I love a good witchcraft store don't get me wrong, but a lot of the stores in my area are just wayyyyy to new age wiccan and are riddled with appropriation, so I just tend to avoid it. And alot of the time the people who work there aren't even practicing practitioners, which is ok, people need money, but it's just weird for me to see idk idk maybe I'm weird. Here are some ways I avoided spending tons of money and metaphysical stores.

- walmart, walmart doesn't actually sell any witchcraft stuff, but it can be used for witchcraft, such as herbs, Walmart has so many kitchen herbs for like super cheap, I literally get all my herbs from Walmart. I also get my candles and incense from Walmart too. They sell a wide variety of candles I love it so much

- family dollar, like walmart, they sell herbs for super cheap (its not a large variety like Walmart) BUT!!! they have a wider variety of actual good incense, I mean yeah it's supposed to be used to cover up the smell of weed (blunt effect incense), but they smell so nice and have alot of smells (lavander, dragons blood, frankincense), they also sell huge candles of all different colors, which can be used for all sorts of things. They offer room decor for cheap as well, and their room decor is really cute too. I useally use it to decorate my altars. I love family dollar

- POPSHELF!! i don't know if popshelf is just a Texas thing but they are so so so cheap. They sell beautifully made candles for super cheap, they sell really cute room decor that follow the seasons. Right now, since it's summer, everything is ocean themed and I love it so much, so much inspiration for Aphrodites altar lol although i do not recommend buying their incense, its really bad quality.

But if you don't have access to any of those....find your local forest and research invasive herbs, then create relationships and correspondences for them. I RECOMMEND DOING THIS SOOO MUCH!!! The more you become knowledgeable on your environment the more you will connect. I started creating my own correspondences with herbs that are local to me around three years ago, and since then I don't think I normally go out to buy herbs unless I absolutely have to. I use everything I find in the forest, whether it's sticks I make into a pentagram, or some ferns wrapped around a stick to make a broom, I will always try to find a way to go out and forage before I spend money on things I will evidently need again.

Creating your own relationships and correspondence with herbs in your area

Literally practitioners have been crating their own correspondences for herbs for centuries, it's how we got the correspondences we have now. But why stop this?? I recommend buying books on medicinal herbs. I have only ever bought one book on magical herbs and I don't even use it as much as I do my medicinal herbal book. Like if we take the magical properties of herbs and look at the medicinal properties of herbs they are basically the same thing (little tip for closeted witches, just say you are interested in herbal remedies), like the medicinal properties of lavander are relaxer, used to go to sleep faster and then the magical properties of lavander are dream work, anti anxiety. They are literally the same thing. Just buy the book you'll thank me later. The more you research local herbs in your area the more you will develop a relationship with them.

Some Tumblr posts I recommend looking at

Broke witch tips

Witchy stuff to add to your room

In the end....

Don't let people tell you "you need expensive items for witchcraft because it'll make you stronger" because that's not true, I hate that ideology. Use what ever is available to you, get crafty, explore, connect. Ok bye.

[marlynnofmany]

Bargains at the Space Market

This was, by far, the sleaziest place we’d stopped for supplies. At least while I’d been part of the crew. For all I knew, the upstanding little courier starship had visited some real dives under previous leadership, but Captain Sunlight was both respectable and smart.

I wondered whose idea it was to stop at this freewheeling anarchy market, set up on an asteroid that somebody had installed a gravity generator on. There was an atmosphere too, and a wide variety of stalls on this mile-long hunk of rock, but not much in the way of oversight.

I saw two different fistfights in progress among the other ships while we exited onto the landing pad.

“Okay,” announced Captain Sunlight, standing as tall as she could — which wasn’t much, lizardy little thing that she was, but she looked dignified — “Mimi, Blip, and Blop, come with me. Trrili, take one or two others with you. Anyone else object to staying to guard the ship?”

There was a hearty chorus of no’s. Zhee turned a faceted eye on the pair of bystanders walking a little too close, clicking his pincher arms at them until they scooted away. In the distance, something that looked like fireworks colored the sky.

A polite claw tapped my elbow.

“Want to come with?” asked Coals, the Heatseeker with dull red scales. He was both shorter and stockier than the captain, and more importantly, he was good friends with Trrili. “It’s a pretty interesting place; I’ve been here once before.”

“How safe is it?” I asked, wanting to be convinced. There were some bizarre things for sale in the stalls visible from here.

“Should be fine as long as we’re careful,” he said. “Especially with her around.” He lifted his chin towards the insectile horror that loomed over him.

Trrili loved looming. “Yessss,” she said. “Essspessssially with me.” She flexed her own pinchers, glossy black to Zhee’s purple, and chuckled darkly. The red patterns on her carapace were especially vivid in the light of the nearby sun.

I smiled. Trrili was terrifying, but she was our terrifying. “Sure. I’d love to come.”

Coals aimed a claw in the opposite direction of the one that Captain Sunlight was looking towards. “Pretty sure I saw some Earth animals for sale as we landed.”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so?” I asked. “Lead the way!”

We checked in with the captain, promised to be careful, and were off. I had some interplanetary credits in my pocket that I didn’t really plan on spending, but it was good to be prepared.

I also had a mini stun gun in a different pocket.

This place was just as chaotic as I’d expected, like an alien farmer’s market with a distinct lowlife element. Here was a humanoid selling pottery that glowed; there was a tentacle alien selling food that moved; over there was a would-be pickpocket getting the tar beaten out of them by a large hairy whatsit. A hand appeared around the corner of another stall to grab a power cell and disappear.

I kept my own hands close to my pockets, wishing I’d worn something with zipper pouches.

“Ah,” said Trrili. “There is the media.” She didn’t bother hissing in normal conversation, but as she led us over to a booth lined with shelves and run by small individuals, I fully expected the intimidation to come out soon.

Just before we reached it, Coals rapped a knuckle on her foreleg. “Hey. We’ll be at the end of the row. See?” He pointed.

“Yessss,” Trrili agreed.

With a nod, Coals left her to her bargaining, and waved me onward. I was a little concerned about this, but the end of the row wasn’t far. We could yell for her to come charging over if need be.

“See those guys in the solar ponchos?” Coals asked. He didn’t need to point.

I squinted. “Hard not to.” The clothes that the two plant-like people wore weren’t as bright as the actual sun, but they sure were unpleasant to look at. The other shopkeepers were giving them some distance, leaving space between their little cart and the proper stalls. Aside from the eye-searing fashion, they had ropy green limbs and faces like rose blossoms that wanted to be mandibles. Fleshy maroon, sharptoothed mouth in the middle, at least half a dozen eyes scattered throughout. More than a little creepy.

“I was watching with the mag lens earlier,” Coals said. “With the classification setting. They’ve got the Earth animals.” He was watching my face as he said it.

The series of expressions that I went through were probably interesting to see as I got a proper look at what was on that cart.

Earth animals, yay! Which ones? Those look like fishbowls. But there’s no water inside, just … fur? Are those cats shoved in fishbowls??

I felt my face grow stony. “Coals,” I said. “Who do we report animal cruelty to around here?” One of the plant guys was waving a bowl around, shouting about potted predators. A passerby turned him down, and he yelled an insult after them.

“Uh, nobody.”

I watched the guy hold up a different one and say something about food paste squeezed in through the lid. When he flipped the cap to demonstrate, piteous mewling filtered out. “What about theft?” I asked.

“Also no.”

“Good,” I said, voice flat. “Go get Trrili, then help me steal these.”

* * *

It took less convincing than I thought. Trrili already had her selection of media in a bag slung behind her, and she chuckled evilly. Coals cracked his knuckles and talked strategy. Then we went for it.

“Hello,” I said, approaching the sellers alone. “How many of these do you have?”

“Everything on this cart,” said the taller one with the bigger blossom head. “Limited supply, very valuable; get them before they’re gone.” He picked up a fishbowl full of gray fur, turning it like a fine art appreciator. A tiny face with big eyes peered out, meowing silently. Stars, these were kittens.

“You don’t have a source for more?” I asked, trying to sound unimpressed.

“These are very exotic, from a far away planet,” he said.

The shorter one bent to pull a big bowl from the bottom shelf of the cart. “Perhaps we can interest you in a larger model? It’s one of a kind.”

That’s the mother cat. Good. I straightened up. “I’ll take all of them,” I said. “Every one you have.”

The sleazy pair chortled and fawned and named a price that could have bought a single-seater spaceship.

I pulled out my tiny stun gun and aimed it at the tall one. “No. I’ll just be taking them.”

They of course laughed at me, and pulled out their own weapons, which Coals had spotted and identified through the holsters. These were also stun guns, but a bigger and more painful model that put mine to shame.

They weren’t, however, very effective on people with exoskeletons.

Trrili leapt out from behind the nearest stall, crossing the distance in a heartbeat of flashing black-and-red limbs, then reared up to stand over them with her pinchers flared, shrieking at earsplitting volume.

I’d already ducked to the side, so while they stumbled back and aimed, I got a great view of Coals jumping forward to grab their stupid ponchos and yank them off their feet.

One of them shot Trrili in the foreleg, making her hiss a little, but the other didn’t even manage that. And before I could use my little peashooter, Coals had tackled them and wrestled the guns from both. With an oversized stun gun in each hand, he got to his feet and aimed at the pair, just daring them to try something, like the three-foot-tall badass he was.

“What did we do to you??” asked the tall one, rubbing his wrist but otherwise holding still.

“Yeah, how did we piss you off?” the smaller one demanded, eyes locked on Trrili.

I stepped forward with anger in my voice. “You didn’t offend either of them,” I said. “You offended me.” At their baffled silence, I continued. “Where did you get these animals? And what makes you think it’s okay to keep them contained like that?”

They both answered at once, and neither was terribly helpful. Some space trader somewhere. They didn’t even know where the cats were from.

“They’re from my planet,” I informed them. “And they should never be treated like this. Any human can tell you that.”

Their answer was just mumbling that sounded like “Yeah, okay.”

“Have you ever met a human before?” I asked, stepping closer. I leaned in. “My people eat things that look like you.”

They held very still, and didn’t object when Trrili pulled their cart away. Coals stepped back to follow, stun guns still aimed.

I put mine back in my pocket and gave them a final glare. “Do not try this again,” I said. “Or I will know.” I turned on my heel and followed Trrili, with Coals bringing up the rear. He kept the guns.

Shopkeepers and bystanders watched in curiosity, but none seemed particularly bothered by any of that. I heard what sounded distinctly like laughter. As we walked away, the hustle and bustle that had quieted a bit gradually resumed its normal volume.

I took the cart handle from Trrili. “Thank you both.”

Trrili chuckled. “My pleassurrrre.”

“Yeah, happy to help,” Coals said, moving up to walk alongside. He looked over the half dozen bowls that were rattling a bit, though I tried to pull the janky cart smoothly. “When you said you’d know…”

I held my chin up. “As far as they can tell, I will,” I said. “Any psychic abilities on the part of humans is for them to worry about.”

Coals laughed quietly and found the safety settings for the stun guns, saying nothing.

We got the cart into the ship without any objection from the crewmates we passed, though there was a fair amount of curiosity. Trrili and Coals stopped to tell the story in the lounge while I made a beeline for the medbay.

“I require use of your scanners,” I told Eggskin, who was understandably surprised. But at the sight of the cats, they wasted no time in bringing out everything required for a full checkup. I made sure to scan for contagion first, cart and all. I certainly didn’t trust those sleazeballs to be sanitary.

“All clear,” Eggskin said. They pulled gloves on over yellow-green scales. “Do we have spare carrying crates in the storage hold?”

“Oh, good point. We should put the family together.” I opened the door and leaned into the hallway. “Hey, Mur! Could you please bring a mid-size carrying crate? It’s urgent.”

Mur had been going a different direction, but he turned readily on dark blue tentacles with a “Sure thing.”

“Thank you!” I called after him.

He was back in no time with the crate, an ideal size for us to put Mama Cat into after her scan. She was dehydrated, but didn’t show any signs of having been in there long. Good. A bit of proper food and a reunion ought to be just the thing.

When we put the first kitten in with her, the purring was so loud it brought tears to my eyes. Eggskin and I wasted no time in checking the others. They were all okay. Not even any fleas.

I was talking with Eggskin about where to keep them for the time being when the door opened to let Captain Sunlight in. A curious crowd waited in the hall.

I stood at attention. “I’m not apologizing,” I said over the tiny kitten mews.  

She shook her head. “No, I don’t expect you to. Are you hoping to keep them onboard, though?”

I shook my head. “I’m sure I can find a home for them at the next space station. Anywhere with a lot of humans, really. These are little cuties, and the mom didn’t even hiss at me, so she ought to raise them to be friendly.”

Captain Sunlight nodded. “All right, then. How about you keep them in your quarters as soon as they’re clear to leave the medical bay?”

“Yes, I was thinking that would be best,” I said. “I’ll just have to be careful opening the door. Maybe I can rig a net as a barrier that I can step over, to at least slow them down.”

“I’ll leave you to figure out how to keep them from roaming the halls,” she said. “Or the engine room, or the cockpit.”

“Yes. I will.”

She left it at that, and opened the door to shoo people away from the convalescing animals. The cart was already out there with the empty bowls and the food paste that would be going in the kitchen trash.

I saw Paint rummaging around the miscellaneous junk on the lowest shelf, which I hadn’t bothered to touch. Her orange tail straightened with excitement. “Hey, there’s money in here!”

I winced. Captain Sunlight gave me an unreadable look.

I felt bad about it, but then I looked down at the kittens tumbling over their mother, each getting licked in turn, and the feeling vanished.

“We can buy cat food with that,” I said.

The captain nodded. “Of course.” Then she sighed. “Mimi is going to be insufferable. First we find a replacement hoverbike after all, now this.”

A gruff voice called from down the hall, “Told you it was a good idea to stop there!”

I grinned. “The cats thank you!”

A toothpaste-green octopus head popped into the doorway. “Name one after me,” said Mimi, waving a tentacle.

I grinned wider. “I think that’s a great name for a cat.”

~~~

The ongoing backstory of the main character from this book. More to come!

[cloudyswritings]

Vessel biology:small details

Y’all know the drill by now.

Vessels exposed to natural daylight or Light from gods that are compatible with plant growth(Unn, Radiance originally but not once she starts the plague) can actually grow foliage on their horns(cause they’re actually branches) or around their ruff(their little cloaks are probably some hybrid of wings and leaves)the reasons most vessels don’t is because most grew up in darkness and never made it out to the surface or never encountered gods.

Side note but Hollow used to have very delicate white leaves(kinda like some of the foliage in the white palace or the plants growing in queens gardens but stunted), taking after their mothers nature. unfortunately pale lights tend to be cold aligned and thus lack some of the warmth in their spectrum needed to keep up vessel foliage growth long term. The radiance burned away the rest of their more delicate leaves. Interestingly though their actual ruff has a greenish hue to it in the their black egg fight that the pure vessel fight lacks, indicating that the radiances light may have at least started chlorophyll production for them before rapidly becoming scorching.

Vessels have a sort of hoarding instinct, the urge to take things inside of themselves and store it for later, which originates with wyrm. They don’t really have any preferences for what they take though, unlike Wyrms who are neurotic by human standards about what is and isn’t allowed in their hoard(which is why the white palace is color coded).

Vessel kinda have eyes? They have basic photo receptors lining the inside rim of their eye socks/mask holes, but most of their actual vision is magic. They also tend to have different attunements to their vision and thus how they see the world. Little ghost is highly attuned to void and soul and the gradient between them, whereas Hollow is far more like us and in addition to standard wavelength color vision can also see the “qualities” of Light that’s deific in origin, this includes seeing lingering effects, the wills and reasons of gods for how they use their Light, and they will almost always notice the boundaries of territories of higher beings.

Hollow is so stained with light that they may genuinely have more lingering light that void, in theory they could use this to transition towards being a more standard god, which would allow them to heal their wounds. They choose not to of course, mostly cause of the trauma they’ve been through and their feelings on gods in general.

Vessels have small retractable/void based burrowing claws/appendages that they can use for when they want to dig. That’s actually what Pure vessel uses during their fight, it’s the long void tendrils arm thing. These claws also tend to correspond to the shape their teeth/horns would have been in as worms.

Speaking of that, that’s what the horns on their heads are, they’re branches but also at the core of each branch is the tooth “root” and the branches tend to grow into the shapes they would have had the vessels been born Wyrms.

Vessels in general don’t have a lifespan, but if they were given the chance they’d all eventually metamorphose into a different form ala their father. I think that the typical vessel shapes/bodies we see are really just temporary and not particularly stable(hence why I’ve said they’re susceptible to influences in the past and also likened them to evee) and given the chance each vessel has an adult form it would eventually grow into. Those forms tend to by Wyrms, roots, and wyrm root hybrids, but also contain a wide variety of stranger life forms, probably echoes and imprints left behind in the void from gods it’s devoured in the past that made their way into the vessels.

Hollows is actually just how they were as PV though, they were simply too influenced by light and also have too much wyrm blood in them

Ghosts is quite obviously void given focus, the potential for that lay in them(and all other vessels to some extent) but only they made the choice that allowed void given focus to exist.

[shadowmaat]

Jedi Service Corps

The Legends-fueled propaganda of "bad students get sent to the Agricorp/Services" has always bothered me. First of all, forcing kids into a career not of their choosing isn't the best way to encourage them to perform well.

The Services in general seem to get a bad rap, and TBH it's kind of bizarre to assume that every kid who winds up being taken in by the Jedi wants to grow up to be a cop. LOL!

There is so much untapped potential being ignored, and even within the four pseudo-canon branches there's a lot to explore.

Agriculture. Farmers Without Borders. LOL! It isn't just about growing plants, it's about analyzing trends, understanding ecosystems, geology, climatology, politics, etc. There's mechanical engineering so you know how to fix the machines that do the hardest labor (often illegally, given corporate software locks and so forth). Probably a lot of fiddly stuff with plant genetics, too, given similar issues with seed corporations.

Being Jedi, I'm sure they're also aware of the need to include "ornamental" plants to help with the emotional welfare of hurting/devastated populations.

Education. This field must be fucking wild. Sure, you have your future creche masters and archivists, but I imagine there are those who do public outreach, too, and go to schools to teach kids about what the Jedi do beyond waving laser swords. There's probably also a need for teachers in isolated/rural areas to help with basic things like reading, writing, and maths. Ditto areas devastated by wars and natural disasters, where kids need a safe distraction from trauma. I bet Educorp and Agricorp team up more often than people might think.

There's also the sheer variety of topics. Even something basic like history will have a wide net. Galactic history, region-specific, planetary, etc. And then there's the arts. Music, singing, dance, physical media, holo media, theatre, and so much more. There will be differences between species, understanding what they need to know, how they learn best, and what their aging process is like. Teachers to cover the full range of mortal maturity, from teaching toddlers to old-timers. And don't get me started on teaching "forbidden" topics in repressive communities.

Medical. LOL. Every. Single. Species. And often subtypes between them. So many specialists needed. And again, you probably have a number that specialize in helping in disaster areas. Hello, Educorp, let's help teach these people how to best care for themselves. Maybe Agricorp can help with showing folks how to purify their air and water. There must be SO many diseases, some of which have inoculations and so that don't. And again, figuring ways to smuggle medicine and supplies to those who need it despite the extortionist rates corporations charge. Repairing faulty equipment, finding work-arounds when the parts aren't there. Triage. Using the Force to help heal is all well and good, but sometimes they still have to get hands-on.

Even with non-emergency stuff, I imagine they're still kept busy. The idea of a Jedi "country doctor" settled in some remote area sounds delightful. Communities that get "lost" in the shuffle or otherwise overlooked. Veterinary medicine as a sub-specialty.

Jedi having a special "knack" for determining what's wrong with someone, finding early warning signs before it's too late, etc. Comforting the dying. Comforting the survivors. ALL the mental health stuff and neurodivergence.

Exploration. Jedi Starfleet. LOL! It isn't all about discovering new worlds, though. Sometimes it's rediscovering planets and cultures that have been forgotten. Charting new hyperlane routes and hoping the end doesn't pop you out in the middle of a star.

I betcha you could fold so many things into this one. Botany. Archaeology. Xenoanthropology. Medicine, of course, since new worlds/people means new poisons, venoms, and diseases. New or ancient languages? It'd help to have someone around who could work on translating. Diplomats to help you talk to people. Geologists. Zoologists. A bit of everything.

Sure, there'd be room for solo missions, but I imagine there'd be bigger ships that they'd launch from. A place to come back to so the brains can pore over everything you brought back and see what they can determine from it. And big ships (or any ships really) means pilots, engineers, general crew, logistics, and all those fun things.

Anyway, I can see plenty of room for additional corps, too, but of the ones that get mentioned in Legends there's still a huge playing field.

[kraviolis]

someone liked one of my TOH headcanon posts from earlier this year and it reminded me about the specific headcanons i have for exactly what types of games the hexsquad plays and how they play them.

luz is obv an RPG fantasy fan. anything with a juicy story and a character creator and complex lore she’ll love. she definitely plays series like elder scrolls and baldur’s gate and final fantasy. she also plays final fantasy 14 and has her character as the good witch luzura and she isnt good at playing it like an mmo is supposed to be played but she loves the story. when endwalker came out luz couldnt stop sobbing to the point that camila was actually worried about her. also enjoys roguelikes such as hades or binding of isaac even if she can only play for so long before getting too frustrated. she also 100% plays genshin impact and gets into arguments online with other genshin fans.

amity is a fighting game girl. she is highly competitive and practices combos with her eyes shut. she prefers the tekken series but when luz wants to play with her they play guilty gear bcus luz likes it’s art style the most. she also likes fantasy RPGs but is way more picky about which ones she plays. she likes fire emblem. she also plays ff14 with luz and is actually good at the game (she carries luz sometimes) but isnt a huge fan of MMOs. she also is the one in the friend group with the NASA ass PC rig with a custom case and the most organized wiring you’ve ever seen with the lcd screen on the liquid cooled cpu and the azura figurine inside the case. she also does custom wraps for all her consoles.

hunter likes games that are very much like, micromanagement sims. like civ5 or cities skylines or factorio (i dont know anything about it but ive been assured by my sister that hunter plays modded factorio) but he’s also a fan of like, old school FPS games like doom and half life. i can see him doing speedruns of those games. (also he 100% once got addicted to some game like fuckin. galactic pinball or something to the point where he was staying up all night and not sleeping so he could play more pinball. in order to get him to stop playing so much and actually get some sleep, gus used illusions to make hunter think he was hallucinating about pinball and scared him into not looking at a single screen or monitor for like three weeks.)

gus is a very chill gamer but he likes games that he can sink hours and hours into. instead of playing a wide variety of games he has a select few that he dedicates his time into learning every last mechanic, but there’s also some games he just plays casually. like with pokemon games he’ll put hundreds of hours into them and carefully curate his team and does like nuzlocke runs but when he plays on his and willow’s shared-custody new horizons island he’ll just walk around and catch bugs and shit and not really worry about upgrading his house and make matching fits with his favorite villager.

willow prefers cozy games, like slime rancher or stardew valley or the aforementioned shared new horizons island, but she’s also a fucking menace about them. like she goes HARD on the min-maxing and automation and shit. while gus is wandering around their island catching fish, willow’s busy rearranging her fully upgraded mansion up in the hills and harassing any villagers she doesnt like with nets and deciding what hybrids to plant in front of her bell trees (she only has bell trees for the aesthetic. gus isnt allowed to harvest them) she would also be running the most high profit slime ranch ever but the way she treats her slimes makes hunter upset whenever he sees her just fuckin throwing them off a cliff the second they arent useful to her anymore. (meanwhile hunter names each one of his slimes and always feeds them their favorite foods and cried over casey & beatrix)

vee enjoys survival/strategic horror games, like DBD, resident evil, deadspace, or even FNAF. she’s the type of person to see the goriest most violent death in a video game ever and just go “ew yucky” then carry on. masha and her are often playing DBD together while in a call and are the most annoying pair of suvivors ever. she also likes games such as original katamari and pikmin 1 and chulip. she's also the undefeated DDR champion of the friend group.

and of COURSE they all play video games together. they all have a terraria world they play on together where they all are focused on their own little projects while still working together and are slowly building up their own village/mansion/castle/fort but luz keeps rushing ahead of everyone just bcus she's so excited and she definitely somehow ends up summoning the wall of flesh accidentally

they DID have a modded minecraft world for a few months with both tech mods and magic mods but while hunter, amity, and vee all focused on their factories and computers and technology, gus, willow, and luz fucked around with all the crazy magic and accidentally found out by blowing up a factory. this is where heightened tension between the the warlocks & the scientists began. this spark eventually turned into a full fledged war that lasted two months before it ended in mutually assured destruction to the point where no one could actually load into the server without their game crashing.

bonus: camila isnt much of a gamer with one exception-- when she was in college manny introduced her to WoW and got her hooked. it was Their Game that they played together all the time. they made cosplays of their characters together. they had several dates in game. they optimized their characters to perfect compliment one another when they ran dungeons with their guild. even since manny passed camila still plays every so often and keeps in touch with their guild members. for the longest time luz has 0 idea that camila plays WoW at all and only finds out after the whole secret nerd confession.

[in-my-loki-feels]

🤭 President Loki/don

Thank you for the ask! Here's a little more Bad Things ‘verse, with President Loki and Don in Asgard. I don't know if these scenes will end up being part of that AU's canon, but they sure are fun to write!

(Another one under 1k!)

🤭 secretive hug / hidden affection

Loki had been uncharacteristically silent for most of the afternoon. Don guessed it had to do with whatever had been said between him and Frigga but he wasn’t going to ask again. As much as he wanted to help, he’d learned by now that Loki didn’t always want to accept it.  Still, it was kind of hard to enjoy the breathtaking scenery surrounding them when Loki was so tense.  “Wanna head back to the room?” Don asked.  Loki grimaced. “We won’t be staying there. That’s his room.”  Oh, right. The elephant in the room Loki was too irritated by to talk about. Okay, next topic. “It’s kinda nice out here, all by ourselves.” “One can never be truly alone when Heimdall is watching, especially in Asgard,” Loki said, the king of grumps. “So is he always watching, like Santa Claus?” At Loki’s blank look, Don half-sang, “He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake.” That only seemed to confuse him more. “Do you not know about Christmas? How is that possible, you were—” Don cut himself off.  It was true they’d met in October and that after Loki won the election in November, he’d started visiting regularly. But Christmas had fallen during the period between Loki’s dramatic departure and his sudden return. Don had tried to put those four weeks out of his mind. “I’ll tell you about it later,” he said, trying to smooth over his misstep. He focused on the garden around them and hoped Loki wasn’t doing the math as well. Things always got awkward whenever that time came up, and he was already tense.   It wasn’t hard to let the beauty surrounding them distract him. Don had taken the boys to a botanical garden once, but they’d been way more interested in the butterfly exhibit than the flowers. Don had thought the exotic plants were impressive but they paled in comparison to what Asgard’s royal gardens offered. He’d never seen such a wide variety of shapes and colors all in one place.  As he looked around, he spotted what looked like a stone archway further down the path. He wondered if the gardens continued over there. This place was already huge from what he’d seen so far. Don started towards it, his curiosity getting the better of him.  “Where are you going?” Loki’s tone was more curious than sharp, which was at least an improvement.  “Just checking something out,” Don said without looking back.

Most of the archway was hidden by a wall of brilliant orange flowers, but as Don came around the bush, he saw it wasn’t a branching path but a place to rest. Beneath the curving stone was a small bench.  “Well?” As expected, Loki had followed. He hadn’t let Don out of his sight since coming back from meeting Frigga.  “I thought there might have been more in this direction,” Don said, gesturing at the archway. He looked back the way they’d come. “I guess we can go back that way.”  Loki gave him a long look, then dropped onto the bench. He made a sweeping gesture with one hand. Don looked around but didn’t see any shimmer of green indicating what Loki had changed.  “What was that?” “A spell.” Loki snagged Don's arm and yanked. Don fell into his lap, his back to Loki’s chest with Loki’s arms around his middle. Loki squeezed once before leaving his arms there in a loose hug.  At Don’s age, it felt awkward to sit in someone’s lap, but he could feel the tension slowly draining from Loki the longer they sat like this. He covered Loki’s arms with his own and looked out over the garden.  “No one can see us now.” Loki’s voice was muffled from where he’d pressed his face into the back of Don’s neck. “Not even Santa?” Don said, just to be cheeky.  He felt Loki's snort against his nape.  “No, not even this strange man who is watching you sleep. If I can hide us from the Gatekeeper of Asgard, a mere Midgardian is no challenge.”  Don grinned, suddenly glad Loki couldn’t see his face. He decided then and there to go as far as he could in his explanation of Christmas before revealing Santa wasn’t real. Maybe he could pull one over on the God of Mischief himself.

From this game. Other fills here.

[luxudus]

Neurodivergency becomes the Norm

old drawing that was meant to be my final spectember entry for this year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To the people who built the guidestones in orbit of our world. This message is towards you and the rest of your kind

We are the Savunato of the planet Apsis in the Oese system. it may not seem like it, but we believe to be your descendants. You may not remember our ancestors of your kind, who first landed on Apsis. It has been 10 million years since that happened. But we are happy to refresh your memory.

From the knowledge we gathered, catastrophe had struck your home planet. We don't know what happened, but it was bad enough for your kind to lose all hope of mending what was broken.

So you looked to the stars for a second chance. In a last ditch effort to save your kind, you launched the Eos Ark program. Sending 35 colony ships across a sea of stars, looking for any habitable planet to call home.

However those colony ships were flawed, they were made in a rush. And had no way of holding its own plants and animals to start agriculture. And too little gear for the colonists to survive in their current form.

Our colony ship just so happened to land here on Apsis. And we couldn’t have been more thankful for it. Apsis is very much like earth, having her own oceans and life. The flora here are fleshy and adorned with red broad leaves. While the fauna walked on three legs, saw with three eyes, and were protected by a woody exoskeleton.

By our sheer luck, the 6 planets of our system had aligned and gifted us a world we could actually survive on. The native life was digestible and the air was breathable. We had our second chance.

Our ancestors’ ship however, was ill-prepared. Again there were barely any tools to help them survive in their current form. We couldn’t shape the world to our needs.The world shaped us to her needs. We adapted, and we evolved.

Relative to your anatomy and lifestyle. Our arms became hyper-extended and stronger. Meaning we can switch between bipedal and quadrupedal locomotion on the fly. Our ancestral thumbs have become vestigial. In place of this, our Index and pinky fingers have become opposable so we can manipulate our environment once more. Our faces too have elongated, our teeth grew harder to get through the exoskeletons of our prey. And we grew fangs to slice through the trees.

One of the most significant things in our history was a slow but all encompassing change to the way we think of the world. Several mental states spurred on by genetics had spread across our population. Mental conditions you would classify as Autism, ADHD, OCD, Dyslexia, Anxiety, Depression, and so on. For you, you’d call us neurodivergent, For us it’s simply the norm, It makes us who we are.

Our modern society has been slowly reworked from the ground up. All in order to empower our new mentality. Now revolving around organization and efficiency. Our work ethic is streamlined to the point where we can get all the day’s work done before noon. With our goal being placed on long term results rather than pure production. Extreme emphasis has been put on the care and wellbeing for the developmentally disabled.

We put as much care into texture as they do with colors and patterns. Plenty of our cultures have a wide array of both visual and tactile patterns and a variety of textures to best fit the wearer. And affection through physical contact is revered as a sign of deep trust within many of our cultures.

We have sailed far beyond the reaches of our new cradle. Reaching new heights by reaching the other worlds that orbit our sun. We’ve explored, colonized, and have begun terraforming the most habitable worlds to make them as comfortable as apsis. We have even begun plunging into the interstellar depths to survey our closest neighbors.

One day we found your wayward stones. The plaques made of the spirit of our original homeworld, like the embers of a great fire holding out in the cold quiet night. We found them on the space station that brought you here, that brought our ancestors down to apsis.

I myself, the Savunato writing this, was one of the lucky few to board your station. We found it still orbiting apsis, Everything was still intact and untouched like a day hadn’t passed. Like we were connected from the depths of time.

We looked to the cosmos to find the others. Sending probes out into deep space with our history. And beaming messages to distant stars, All in hopes of finding you or another one of your descendants. No one’s responded so far, We may very well be the last living descendants of your kind.

If any of you are still out there. Let us show you we did it. we did it humanity, we made it. We survived. We made it through the toughest Apsis had to offer. We shared the worst mistakes the both of us have made. We learned for the better. We kept the flame going. May we survive for another 10 million years. May we be your successors.

If any of you are still out there.

I hope we made you proud…

[satureja13]

🎄 Buydebug Advent Calendar 🎁 It starts -> here

☃️ December 21 ❄️ 🧙‍♀️ Realm of Magic 🔮

Today is Winter Solstice This coming night is the longest of the year and from tomorrow on, the days are getting longer again, until Summer Solstice. This is my favourite day of all. Because it gives hope in the darkest of times. Without having to do or achieve something, the light comes back into our life. And this is my wish for you today. May the light come back into your life. Just like so. I know many of you are struggling. Don't lose hope and have faith in time ♥️

And Realm of Magic is one of my favourite Packs and if I only had to chose one buydebug it would be this one. Not because it has a wide variety of great objects. But because I use the few objects in this pack so often. In every build and in many many episodes of my story.

There is also again one of my favourite plants. The one to the right of the mushrooms. And the group of coniferes comes in handy too. The portals work! Place the entrance and the matching exit and teleport!

The light orbs to the left are the reason why I love this buydebug so much. Whenever I need a light effect, big or small, I use them.

The brooms are perfect to clutter a utility room.

Example for the light orbs

There is also this gas ring I use from time to time. It is stunning. Here around my Tibanna Gas Platform in subspace

And at Mount Komorebi exactly one year ago at the event on Winter Solstice.

[greattemptation]

I had a hard time deciding whether to go with a weird word and hope or a more normal one; so here are some options: cabbage or thank(s) 🙃

Ash! I searched far and wide, and all I found was the knowledge that my fics are woefully short of both manners and cabbages. SO. I wrote you a cabbage fic. Thank you @rainstormradish for the beta!! Rated G for gardening.

Harry woke up warm and happy. This lasted mere moments.

First, he noticed he was alone in bed. He was warm but no longer happy.

Second, he heard grunting. Straining, even. His curiosity drove him out of bed, and he was no longer warm. Why was it so bloody cold in here?

Third, he followed the cold air to the open door from which he saw his insane husband laboring in the garden. Harry stood, freezing in his underwear, watching Draco heft bags of soil bodily across the yard, no wand in sight.

Harry must have made a sound of disbelief, because Draco turned where he was and dropped the soil at his feet looking extremely caught out.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m planting cabbages,” Draco said, loftily, and as if this were both obvious and appropriate.

“Planting cabbages. It’s before breakfast! You left the door open! It’s February! We talked about this!”

“Well, you can say what you like, but Luna sent another owl about cutting down on the spring population of hurdgurdle slugs, which as you well know, was completely out of control last year—where are you going?” 

“I’m going to get dressed, and then I’m going to come back out here and argue with you,” Harry called over his goose-pimpled shoulder, closing the door firmly behind himself and casting several warming charms in quick succession.

Multiple knit layers and one rushed cup of tea later, he stalked into the garden, ready as he’d ever be.

“You cannot plant cabbages in February. Neville told you at dinner last week February is too early for the autumn varieties,” Harry said.

Draco turned from his seat in the dirt. “Yes, and Luna pointed out the bit about the slugs. The reduced hurdgurdle population would protect the cabbages throughout the growing season! Plants grow in an entire ecosystem, darling, and our garden is just part of it.”

Harry looked around that ecosystem now, hoping some ancient power would be merciful and strike him down where he stood. And then he looked at Draco—freezing, up to his elbows in actual dirt, all because Luna told him that using magic in the garden would attract Wisps of McTigg to the area and disrupt the earthworms. 

Harry kneeled down beside him. “Where should we start planting, then?” he asked.

And Draco’s smile was so bright that it warmed a whole February morning. 

Now also on AO3!