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primusdemoniccreatrix · 1 year

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Planet Mandalore Turns Slowly

Okay someone on Twt inspired me that's why I'm writing this after the absolute hellstorm of clickbait some idiot sources left on The Mandalorian's show direction. Anyway, here's something cute!

Planet Mandalore Turns Slowly

Music to listen while reading: Fahrenhaidt- In The Beginning

Planet Mandalore Turns Slowly

Din stood up and brushed the knees of his trousers, the dirt falling from them after staining the fabric from the minutes he spent kneeling on the ground. He stood up to survey his work, a soft huff of satisfaction escaping him as he looked down.

He rolled his neck, grunting at the pops his back made, but could feel instant relief as his body relaxed from its earlier concentrated position.

The flowers he'd just planted, Mandalorian Peepflowers, were from seedlings he'd swiped off the gardens at Sundari. The capital building, where most government meetings were held had a garden, and when he'd seen them bloom, he swiped a few cuttings and seeds, hearing from Karga once that they could be used to grow whole plants.

He stood over the new saplings that he'd planted, waiting for the Peepflowers that would show up in a few weeks.

Din chuckled to himself, remembering how Grogu first reacted upon seeing the flowers. His little head and petal-like ears whipped left and right as he thought he heard birdsong, which was really the sound the flowers made when they'd been pollinated, hence their name.

He turned around at the sound of scraping metal on stone, seeing Grogu try to lift a small shovel across the grey path stones in their garden. Grogu grunted, his small voice carrying over the soft woven blue grass as he watched his son try to drag the trowel, almost a quarter of his own weight, towards the seedling bed as he'd wanted to plant his own. Din snickered as he watched Grogu heave once more, his head back and eyes closed as he tried to pull with all his might before falling on his back.

Din cooed to his son, picking him up and dusting him off as the small boy looked around in confusion before realizing what happened, glaring at the trowel. Din tried to suppress his laughter at Grogu's angry little babbles as the child tried to lift it with the Force. Din shook his head with a smile, taking Grogu's outstretched hand in his own, and turning him around.

"Grogu, you know the hole is already dug, all I have to do is put the seedling in and pat the dirt", Din reminded him.

Grogu huffed, scrunching his nose indignantly; the boy had been wanting cookies as of late, and Din had promised to make him some. Grogu had been ecstatic for them, wanting them all day, but Din reasoned with him, reminding Grogu that they had some other chores to attend to before the cookies. Grogu had been using the Force to help him with household chores as of late, a kind of practise beyond his usual meditation that Din did when he cleaned up. He'd been such a good student, such a good companion over the years, and honestly, if cookies was all he wanted, he was glad to make them for him. This batch would be different, however.

Grogu was trying to help him plant the seeds for the Peepflowers if only to make his father hurry with the cookies. Din snickered as his child cooed at him and babbled hurriedly, and he nodded in response to the child when he had an idea:

"Say, kiddo, why don't you help me with the last one, then we'll make cookies together, hm? It'll get done faster with you there".

Din could barely contain his snicker of amusement as Grogu wiggled his feet in happiness, excitement palpable in his eyes. Din walked him over to the edge of the garden, where there was imported soil and flower beds made with the assistance of Mandalorian technicians and architects, some of the people who'd come to Mandalore after it had been retaken and was slowly, over the last 5 years, been more populated and rejuvenated with housing, community gardens and public parks, nearby farms, and official buildings. The landscape got more and more beautiful every day.

Din knelt by the flower bed and looked at the hole for the seedling, and then looked at the little pot where the sapling, one of the dozen he swiped from the government garden's imported flowers just a walk from the public courtyard park. Grogu seemed to look at it with interest, and for a moment Din thought he might want to eat it as he seemed to do with many inedible things.

"Grogu, let's plant, hm?" he beckoned the child forward, who waddled over as Din placed the sapling inside the hole, knowing it was a delicate job that he didn't want Grogu feeling guilty over. After placing it in, he pushed some dirt over the soft roots, before turning to Grogu and gesturing to the still-open hole, "Did you want to close it up for us, Grogu?"

Grogu's big eyes glimmered in curiosity as he waddled forward, leaning towards the ground to kneel at the base of the sapling. Din watched his tiny green hands, three claws each, reach around and push dirt over the hole, before surprising him by patting the soil to pack it better.

Grogu had seen his father do it with the other plants from the window, so he wanted to replicate it. It looked like Din was proud, if the surprised smile was any indication.

"Good job, Grogu, you did great!" came the whispered praise of a proud father as Din patted his back, congratulating him. Grogu let out a happy coo of triumph at his success, and marveled at the job he'd done. "Those will soon grow to be the Peepflowers we saw when we last visiting Aunty Bo" Din said, doing a once-over of Grogu's work.

Grogu tugged on a crease in Din's trousers, and he smiled down at him as he remembered why Grogu was here; "Alright, time for some cookies".

Grogu's squeal of joy was almost worth the pain of it in his ears.

Inside, Grogu's cookies were already underway, the mix already prepped and ready to use, only needing to be heated up, except that Grogu couldn't use the oven at his age. Din unstuck the piping bag for the cookie batter and placed it onto a heating tray, which would allow the oven's heat to cook it much faster with even distribution. He piped two dozen little spots, coloured Grogu's favourite turquoise, before giving him a cookie cutter to make little frog shapes that Grogu adored. Grogu enthusiastically put himself to the task, and make little frog shapes of his cookies. When he was done, Din placed it inside the oven and turned it to 120 degrees, which was the ideal temperature to cook the confectionaries in.

Within minutes, they were done, and Din pulled them out of the oven, where the baking tray's sensors detected outside oxygen and began to cool itself to cool the cookies. Within seconds, they were ready to place the icing into and make sandwiches.

Grogu was all too eager to help and made a few cookies, while sneaking samples of the icing himself.

When they'd finished, Din set the cookies aside, and bending at the waist he looked directly at Grogu, who looked back up at him inquisitively. Din smiled to reassure him it was nothing wrong.

"Hey kid, it's a lovely night tonight; why don't you grab our favourite blanket and lets eat it outside, okay?"

Grogu seemed to nod, and with a little Force-powered jump, waddled excitedly as fast as he could to get his favourite picnic blanket, a red and white checkered blanket that had the consistency of silk and was waterproof, perfect for the night.

Din heard the excited babbles of a child as he practically vibrated with happiness, his teeth gleaming with his wide grin as he raced back towards the porch in the backyard where the grass was cool and the sky was painted like candy. He opened the door and held it for Grogu to run out onto the grass, his feet sinking in softly as he hurried towards his favourite spot, a shallow grassy patch right next to the Naboo roses they'd gotten two years ago. Din followed behind, laughing aloud to himself as he watched Grogu put the mat onto the ground and flipped it open in the cardinal directions, before Din came to him and began to help, spreading it flat onto the grass. He gestured for Grogu to sit, before-

"Oh no!" he said, his voice soft with dismay as he raised his arms in a shrug, "I forgot the cookies! Wait here, Grogu, I'll get them!" he said, dramatizing it for the kid. Grogu laughed, babbling something that almost sounded like he was making fun of him, but it made Din smile to himself.

When Din returned, Grogu looked up for the cookies before his eyes widened and mouth opened in confusion.

Din was holding a small platter, complete not only with the cookies and blue milk Grogu liked, but also some fruits and fried frog legs, and his favourite treat from Uncle Boba: Coruscanti Bubble Fritters, made of Coruscanti wrotworm meat in a sweet bubble-like puffed pastry called cloud bread, topped with some savoury herbs and a sauce atop it. Grogu looked up at his father, gratitude yet confusion in his bright, brown eyes.

Din gave him a soft smile, putting the platter down in front of him, and taking his place opposite Grogu on the blanket.

"Kid, do you remember what day it is today?"

Grogu looked up from the sparkler-lit platter, a questioning coo answering his father.

Din smiled wider. "It's the fifth year anniversary since we met..."

Grogu seemed to understand, for he babbled in return, his ears perking up at the revelation. It had been a while since they'd been together, and now it was another cycle to celebrate!

Din reached over and took Grogu's hand, three tiny green fingers gripping his own knuckle as he faced him. Grogu stared into Din's eyes, a boy looking into the windows of his father's soul.

"Thank you, Grogu" Din said after a beat, "thank you for being in my life, and I hope I've been a good parent for you".

Grogu's head tilted, his lips twitched and widened in a smile, letting out a soft coo of agreement. His ears perked up once more, and if those didn't assure Din that he was happy to be here, Grogu's fingers squeezing his own in return meant the absolute world to him.

Din grinned brightly, both their teeth gleaming in the golden sunset of Mandalore. "Let's eat, kid; it's your anniversary meal after all!" Grogu let out an 'ah!' in triumph, already grabbing for the cookie like he had grabbed an unfortunate Babu Frik the Anzellan.

After eating, Grogu had waddled over towards the swing that Paz and Ragnar had gifted them when they'd moved in, the Vizslas having honed some carpentry to step back from the political holdings of their lineage. The porch swing was one of the most thoughtful gifts Din had received, and especially now, he was thankful for it, as Grogu leaned back and swung under a soft blue sky with twinkling stars above. He'd fallen asleep shortly after from the rocking motion, and Din sat beside him now, rubbing his head the way he'd seen the Duchess of Plazir do to make him purr. Din chuckled as Grogu leaned into the touch, shifting into his father's stomach as he slept in his lap.

Din looked up, seeing the sky darken further from soft blue to purple as stars began to creep up on the horizon.

Grogu murmured in his sleep, and Din paused to look at him a moment, seeing him smile, likely dreaming of chasing frogs. Din felt his heart swell with love for the child, and the words that Ahsoka told him years ago came back to mind, about him being a father.

He hadn't been a good man in a long time.

But as long as Grogu loved him, we was sure he was doing something right.

A breeze moved through the quickly darkening skyline, warm with the scent of his roses. Din breathed it in, staring up at the constellations as he pondered his blessings, of having his planet, his covert, his friends, and his family.

His son.

Din would be forever grateful for his son, Grogu.

Their clan of two meant everything to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, something lit up. It moved in the air, coming closer, and wherever it hovered over the grass, more would join in lighting up the vegetation. There were so many of them, lighting up the garden as brightly as the stars above; infinite lives, infinite futures, infinite moments to look forward too.

Din looked back at the stars, mapping the constellations he used to navigate with once.

His bounty hunting days of adventure were over; but his glory days had never passed: it was with his clan, with Grogu, that they were spent well. The best was yet to be, and even with the years between them, there would be many moments of laughter, of sweet things, of coos and waddles and kisses and frogs, of them, and the love between them, in every one of the moments as vast as the billions of stars in the galaxy.

Din picked Grogu up, who sleepily mumbled. Din cradled him to his chest, relishing the paternal feeling over him.

"I love you, ner ad'ika". I love you, My little one.

#cute #fluff #hypothetical #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #parenting #soft #this took me hours #and fuck whoever said that the show was ending #sent me into hysterics

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jensownzoo · 1 year

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So the Florida weave for supporting the tomatoes in front is going...okay. There is definitely a learning curve, a fair amount of plant adjusting seems to be needed in this growth phase, and it is KILLING my back. But the tomatoes are upright, looking fantastic, and this little fella (a Sungold) is already setting fruit:

BUT when I was researching ways to trellis tomatoes, I came across a method that I thought would work in the raised beds in back, particularly since I was already halfway doing it. I had all the supplies except for tomato clips, which I ordered and they came in a few days ago. So I spent yesterday tearing out the old, rotting support system and rebuilding the wooden supports (stronger and better) and adding metal conduit to span the bed instead of pvc pipe. I had to use a circular saw sideways and at shoulder-height to shorten some of the posts, which ended up throwing sawdust directly into my cleavage. Sawdust in your bra sucks so much (hair splinters from shaving animals is worse, but not by much)—I’m sure I gave my neighbors quite the show trying to shake most of it out.

This morning I’m working on getting the lines in and clipping the tomatoes to them. Mason line gets tied to the overhead conduit, then tacked to the ground with a landscape staple (I tied it to it) near the tomato stem. Then the clips go around the main stem, making sure the line is pinched in the “hinge” of the clip so it’s locked in place on the line. I am really liking this method so far. After I fixed my previous macguyvered supports, it is a cinch to install, though my short self did require a step stool. But no back pain! And see how nice and tidy it’s looking:

I think I could adapt this to the front yard if I got a few elbows for the conduit to make a frame that I could attach to t-posts. May do that next year if the Florida weave doesn’t work out.

Also saw my first snap pea this week (sorry for the blurriness), so I may get some before the heat kills them. Last year we had 100F heat the last week of May, so crossing my fingers.

Also the nasturtium interplanted in the front are popping up. They’re some of my favorite flowers/leaves so it’s an event. Many of the other things are coming up too—clover, zinnias, marigolds, etc.—all since we had some rain this past week (that filled my rain barrels, hurrah!).

And finally the new rhubarb seedlings are really liking their new spot. They get shaded out by the sunchoke patch in early morning, but have tons of blazing sun after noonish. Moving them was a great idea *pats self on back* and worth the effort of preparing a second site.

Next project is constructing trellises for the container cucumbers, which I’ll likely do this afternoon. Their huge insect-excluding bags should get here mid-week. The diy ollas appear to be working great, so I may get homegrown cucumbers yet this season!

#gardening #tomato trellis #tomatoes #spring garden projects #nasturtiums #snap peas #rhubarb

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pannimanagementteam · 1 year

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the-firebird69 · 2 years

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She said she's having a problem with Walmart and the prices are too high and we agree so we're meeting with them today and a lot of products we can bring down and there's probably some essentials too wood products for bringing down because we're replanting rapidly and we have tons of seedlings and we have tons of people doing it so she's pretty pleased and happy with that and she's going to town she's getting ready to stock the shelves we told him the time frame that's working out pretty good.

Other shops like grocery stores and department stores are calling now and they want in and we're helping them and it's working we need tons of employees now and we're hiring all over from both sides

We aquired all 400 companies this morning

It's a very huge change and there's tons of smaller companies that we're acquiring huge huge companies no but we're keeping the way they are and they are pleased with it but there's millions and millions and millions of companies that we're acquiring millions okay it's gigantic and we did not acquire the fruit juice that's got the bubbles in it he can buy it himself maybe some money but he loves that one tons of people love that drink it's a really good drink they said anti-inflammatory the fruit juices good and it's kept well and it's fizzy and it's like a soda pop that's healthy it's just an amazing drink izzi. They need to market it better and they need a better supplier they also need to pay our son with the idea so we're going to request it today.

It's an the enormous amount of companies. The conversions are going well the motorcycles to light cycles and in about 2 weeks so I'll be done so it's not necessary to add shops of hours but we want to add a few so we can do them for hours and we're not going to tell you which ones a lot of people are adding shops and we're still talking to Sears it's a huge amount of stores it is a giant distributorship it's bigger than ours and ours is pretty hefty and Walmart would feel it and it would have to compete more then have to actually work so I was sitting down today with them and we have this whole campaign to bring them back to life and part of it is issuing the catalog I was out and rural areas they don't really have access to that many computers and phones it's a hilarious thing but it's not it makes very good sense and there's a lot of new vehicles out by us that can just drive right out there and back and not have any trouble big tires on them yes but boy we prepared for this and serious wants to sit down now cuz they want to see what we're saying about numbers and where and mail order stuff it's just a wonderful thing for them one of the only groups that does that and you say go to a rural area and you put it in the library the library is about as big as our son's apartment room but they go in there and they write a letter and they send in a check and they can get a check right down the street at their post office and stuff comes it's amazing it's a wonderful thing and we can tell them how to do the check that's right for a few sets of snow big deal but this is how it goes these things are happening now and if they're great ideas and we have tons of businesses that we're bringing up we need tons of people and we're telling our people we need you to get going on this we're going to have a wartime economy where we are and our son and daughter have told us how and Frank Castle Hardcastle and Duke Nukem Blockbuster we've done it ourselves plenty of times you know how it works but their suggestions are very good they said you have to hire everybody for planetary defense everybody and then you just transition over so we're hiring everybody now and everyone's shocked to see what's going on and we're telling them if it does explode the fragments can be hit we need that up and running and we need people now and now I'm in a real panic because that's reality

Thor Freya

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whatanoof · 3 years

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A Push in the Right Direction

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader

Word Count: ~7.6k

Warnings: fluff, smut, swearing, sexual tension, rough sex, sex pollen so by default it's dubcon, pining

Summary: Healing injured patients? Psh, easy stuff. Force healing? A little more tricky. Confessing your crush to your very close friend? Damn near impossible until a flower bush shoves you in the right direction.

A/N: Happy birthday my friend @marvelassassin221b!! I hope you are staying safe, and that your birthday will bring happiness and wisdom to your life. It's been a blessing talking to you and laughing at memes together <3 Thank you for giving me the push to get this fic done and posted, I couldn't have done it without you. Enjoy some of our favorite redhead Jedi ;)

You’ve always been terrible with directions. Like, it’s a miracle you haven’t gotten lost in more dangerous settings, but even your Jedi Master used to shake their head when you had survival exercises in your Padawan years. Greez too, makes comments about how atrocious you are at navigation. You hadn’t been allowed back to the holomap since a disastrous set of directions landed the Mantis on the more unfriendly side of the Outer Rim.

But even with all of your shortcomings at mapping, you have a solid crisis mode. You need to have one as a medic. It’s not a good idea to freeze when a patient is bleeding out on the ground in front of you, there is only one way that is going to end, and it’s not going to be a happy ending. Under pressure, all of the unsureness that surfaces during your attempts at navigation vanishes, and your body is moving before your mind even consciously thinks to. It’s your zen mode, almost your place of meditation, where you give into the inner instinct and allow the Force to guide you through the process. Too bad you can’t reach that state in any situation other than emergencies, maybe you would be able to navigate your moves in confessing a crush.

You had met Cal Kestis on Bracca. He’d cut his hand open on a jagged edge of wall paneling, and Prauf brought him to you, one of the few healers among the scrappers. You couldn’t tell what exactly it was that gave him away to you, but the instant his eyes met yours, you knew where he had come from.

Of course, you waited until Prauf had gone back to work to reveal yourself. Healing through the Force decreases the chance of infection, is painless, and is essentially instantaneous. While your normal supplies would have done the trick, the drama queen in you realized this would be the perfect way to show Cal he wasn’t alone. Force healing is tricky, but you’d had a surprising knack for it ever since your youngling years. The Order had trained you up in the way of Force healing and given you the tools to take advantage of your aptitudes. Cal’s face had been priceless when you simply waved your hand over his, and the wound closed within seconds.

There was a certain comfort in knowing you weren’t alone. Admittedly, in the long years after the Purge, you’d toyed with the idea that you had been the only Jedi to escape. Those had been dark days, where you could barely scrape together the energy to forage for food and water, laughing that the Jedi Order would die with a single Padawan who had lost her lightsaber along with everything she had known.

But then Cal stumbled into your little cordoned off area. You’d become close friends from that moment to the day Prauf died and the Ninth Sister shoved you both off of the cliff and onto the freight train below. The Mantis crew was surprised, to say the least. They had gotten reports of a single Jedi wreaking havoc on Bracca. But they welcomed you aboard and you had become the team medic, patching up Cal when he got back from missions and finding time in between to try and recover the Force abilities you had lost to time.

---

“Hey.” You look up from your work. Medical supplies lie strewn across the floor of your part of the room, bandages unwound and your meager supply of medication stacked methodically in the corner.

Cal looks down at you from the doorway, a streak of something across his cheekbone. You want to wipe it off, but you just smile back, “Welcome back. Find anything cool?”

His happy grin only widens, “You’ll have to come and find out.”

“What?”

He beckons you towards the main hull, “Come on!”

Cere and Greez are already there and seated around the meal table, and BD is perched on the table, chirruping animatedly as if talking to Cere. You take your place with them, noting the empty chair to your right. Merrin is back on Dathomir, searching for ancient texts about Nightsister magic and rituals. She’s been gone for several days, but you still find yourself seeking out her snarky comments and cool confidence.

“Okay.” Cal stands at the head of the table, rubbing his hands together in a way that makes him seem as if he is playing the adult. “I’m willing to bet you're all wondering why I’ve called you here today…”

“Spit it out Cal, you woke me up from a nap for this.” Greez eyes the redhead grumpily, and you fight to hide a grin. Cere also looks mildly amused, if slightly impatient.

Cal rolls his eyes, but continues, “Cordova left a message, saying something very valuable to our quest is locked in a vault in the Zeffo caves. I found the vault today and it matches Cordova’s description, but we need two Force users to access it.” He nudges BD, and the little droid projects an image of the vault door. It’s massive, with gold decorations swirling across it, and two obvious indents in the ground on either side for said Force users.

Everyone’s gazes flit to Merrin’s empty chair. It’s without question she would have been the best fit for this mission. Her combat style complements Cal’s perfectly, and Cere is still hesitant to use the Force.

Realization strikes you, and you glance up to see everyone’s eyes are now trained on you. You begin to shake your head. “That’s a bad idea--”

“We’ll be fine. I’ll lead us directly to the vault. I have my saber, and you have your Force healing. Worst case scenario, you have to patch me up in the field.” That is definitely not the worst case scenario, but there are no other options. This mission is time-sensitive, and you can’t wait for Merrin to get back from Dathomir.

You fix him with a stern glare. “I will come. But--” You hold up a hand when Cal opens his mouth. “You have to stick with me. No disappearing and popping out to scare me, because I will get lost We go in, and we get out.“

“I wouldn--” Cal protests.

“You would.” You snap.

“Yeah, he would.” Cere agrees.

“Sounds like something you would do.” Greez nods.

BD beeps cheerily from its place in the center of the table, clearly in agreement with you.

Cal shuts his mouth with an audible pop, and you cross your arms while staring him down. Yes he would.

“I need BD back here on the ship. I’m running diagnostics on the navigation programming, and I can’t do it alone.” Cere speaks up.

Cal hesitates. You understand; he never goes on missions without BD. The two are a package deal, but everything needs to be running at peak efficiency before you go to the Fort Inquisitorius. And there’s no way you’re willing to deal with a navigation error en route.

You speak up, “Yeah, it will be fine.”

Cal looks at you, “We need BD to unlock a shortcut. What happened to in and out?”

You wave him off, “We’ll take the scenic route. Cere needs BD back here, and we can manage without. We’ll have our comm units, it will be fine.”

---

Do you know that saying, “Famous last words?”

Yeah. You hadn’t realized just how famous those last words could be. It started when Cal realized he’d left his comm unit on the ship in the charging port. But it was fine, because you had yours. Until you dropped it into a puddle after tripping over a tree root.

The scenic route involved passing through the outskirts of a forest, and the terrain was a little trickier than you had been prepared to handle, obviously. So, commless and armed with a single lightsaber and two shared brain cells, you travel towards the entrance to the Zeffo caves.

A flower bush catches your eye. Its leaves are a shocking shade of red, with gorgeous blue flowers that seem to call you over to them. Cal keeps walking even as you stop and reach for the bush. You pluck the flower in the fullest bloom and turn it over in your hand, admiring the veins of deeper azure spider webbing across the petals.

Cal says your name behind you, “We have to keep moving if we’re going to get back before dark.”

Turning to face your companion, you tuck the blossom behind his ear and step back to admire how the blue contrasts against his hair. The word slips out almost without you noticing. “Cute.”

It’s almost comical how quickly his face blooms red. “Guh--”

“It’s a good look.” You reassure him quickly. “Adorable. Pretty. Cute.”

“--Thanks!” He ducks past you to the bush. “I’m just going to grab a seedling for Greez. He’ll like this one.” Cal grabs one of the large pods and breaks it open, removing a seed and sticking it into the pouch on his harness. “Okay, ready.”

But you’re distracted by the red pollen that explodes in a cloud around his head, dusting him with a fine mist that leaves scarlet traces on his face and shoulders. “What’s that?” You step forward and run a finger across Cal’s poncho, collecting the dust and rubbing it between your fingertips. You hesitate, then raise your hand to your face to smell the substance. The sickly sweet scent and underlying current of spicy musk sticks in your lungs. The back of your throat tickles, and you sneeze.

An echoing sneeze draws your attention. Cal leans against the flowering bush, one arm clamped over his nose as he sneezes over and over again. He glances up at you, coughing with watery eyes, “Wha--”

A spike of dread pierces through you. ‘Stars, was it poison?’ He won’t stop coughing, a dry rattle as his body tries in vain to purge the intruding red dust. You fall to your knees beside him. Panic fills your mind, blotting out logic and reason and you place your hands on his body, intent on Force healing him even though you don’t know what is wrong with him. Then, just as suddenly as the coughing started, it stops and silence rings through the trees.

“Cal!”

You're shoving your hand underneath his poncho in an instant to feel for his heartbeat. You hold your breath. You can’t feel a pulse. You scramble to rip his poncho off completely, dragging it over his limp shoulders and head. You shove your fingers against his throat again. There!

His heartbeat flutters delicately, beating a rapid tattoo against your fingertips. You allow yourself to breath. He’s alive. But his pulse is fast, too fast. You rip open his tunic, though you’re not entirely certain what it is you’re searching for.

Just as your fingers brush over his skin, Cal bolts upright with a gasp. “Wh-- where...?”

You swear you almost pass out from the relief that slaps you across the face. “Stars, I thought you were dead. I’m so sorry about the flower bu-- mmm!”

Cal smashes his lips onto yours, pushing you onto your back with the sheer force of the kiss. His tongue dips into your mouth, searching and probing and damnit you can’t breathe when he’s this close to you, this desperate. His hips jerk against yours with an unpracticed, aborted motion, dragging a very prominent erection against your body that makes you jerk back in surprise.

You push him away from him for a second, propping yourself up on your elbows as you search his face for some indication of… you don’t know what. But this isn’t like him. “Cal, what--?”

“Need you.” He groans, his hands roaming over your body without fear or shame and inspiring a wave of pleasure as he squeezes your breasts. “Maker, you feel so good. Smell so good.” You bite back a moan. This really isn’t the time, not in the middle of an Imperial occupied forest. But to be completely honest, he feels really good too.

You’d imagined this before. Well, not these exact circumstances, but the idea of being under Cal. You’d imagined the feeling of his hands scraping over your skin and squeezing your body wherever he would like. You’d imagined his lips on yours, and other places for sure. But you’d really only ever been able to envision Cal as a gentle lover, all quiet moans and hesitant movements and unsure expressions. But this rougher side? You moan raggedly against Cal’s mouth as he shoves a thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your clothed sex. This is amazing.

Streaks of heat flash through your body, converging between your legs. Everything is amplified, the sounds around you, the grass beneath your knees, the blueness of the sky overhead. But it all seems to pale when your attention lands on Cal, who’s more flushed than earlier. You feel the heat beneath your skin too, but he’s got to have it worse right now, because you’re not the one sweating like you’re stranded on a desert planet. Maker, the pollen was some kind of--

His name escapes your lips in a tiny whisper that morphs into a moan halfway through. You allow your head to fall back, and it thunks against the spongy moss across the ground, knocking you back to the present. Cal’s lost in you, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as he ruts weakly against your thigh.

You shake off the haze clouding your mind, crisis mode kicking into full gear. You have no comms, one horny Jedi, and a completely hopeless sense of direction. “Cal. We have to move.”

He whines high in the back of his throat. “No.” It’s almost pleading, but there is an undercurrent of steel that makes you pause.

“Cal. We’re out in the open. Troopers co-- could--” Stars, you can feel the lust pumping under your skin, so close to the surface that it could burst out at any second. But fear hovers on the edge of your mind, pressing in and suppressing the need to jump Cal and reminding you of the certain torture and death that would occur if you were caught.

Cal doesn’t seem to have any of the same restraints as you. His fingers are carding through your hair, “Just wanna feel you. Maybe more.” His teeth latch into your neck, and the dull pain pierces through the haze more firmly.

He got dosed more heavily with the pollen. You resist the urge to curse as you gently detangle from Cal and sit up, biting back a sigh of relief as his teeth leave your skin. “We have to find shelter.” You begin to look around, but all you can see is the forest. You need something better, a place where you can figure out what exactly is wrong with Cal. You try to stand.

“Noooo…” This isn’t going to work. You actually do curse this time. How are you supposed to find effective shelter while dragging a full grown man around hostile territory without compromising stealth, all while your libido is cottoning to the edge of your mind, clouding your judgment?

“Come here…” Cal’s arm wraps around your neck, dragging you back down to the ground even as you try to stand. Okay that’s enough.

“You’ll forgive me later, Cal.” You press your thumb to his forehead and concentrate. His skin is dry and burning to your touch, and your brow scrunches. That’s going to be an issue. You reach to tap into the Force, but you pause. Your Force connection is… foggy. That’s the only way you can describe it in words, but it’s muted and dimmer than usual.

Your Jedi Master taught you a metaphor for using the Force: a barrier exists between you and access to the Force. It’s a wall, and your mind must become like a sharpened sword to pierce through and reach the Force. You can feel the barrier, just as always, but it’s like a second layer exists around it. If the normal barrier is made of thin glass, the new layer is crafted from paper; it’s strange, and thicker than usual, but still easily pierced with extra… force if you can say that without making yourself laugh at the pun. You summon the strength and press your mental sword forward through the barrier.

Rest. Cal’s eyes roll back in his head and he falls asleep with a gentle exhale. He relaxes against you, and you relax in turn when you see the pained lines smooth out of his forehead. Jedi healing includes your own personal anesthesia on demand. It will keep him under for a little bit, though you can’t tell what kind of effect the pollen will have on the Force sleep.

Through some feat of the stars themselves, you struggle to your feet. Cal’s arm is looped around your neck, and you want nothing more than to just sink down to the ground again and give into the weakness and lust pulling at your legs, coaxing you to collapse and take your pleasure. And stars, Cal’s heavier than you expected him to be.

But you shake yourself awake. Can’t get distracted. You glance at Cal’s drooping head. He’s been strong for you this entire time. The least you can do is be strong now and find some shelter. But where?

Voices filter through the trees, and your head jerks up towards the sources.

“Yeah, she told me to take the bucket off, or she would charge the full payment and…” Stormtroopers. Kriffing hell.

“Come on.” You hiss underneath your breath. You gather your legs underneath your body and push. Your muscles scream in pain, but they ultimately obey and you stumble to your feet and begin to move away from the approaching voices. Cal is dead weight over your shoulders, pulling and urging you to rest. It would be so easy to give in, to sink back to the ground and let Cal do what he wants.

The trees blur together as you move through the forest. The stormtroopers’ voices are getting louder and you grit your teeth. You don’t know their patrol route. How are you going to avoid them? All you can do is place one foot in front of the other. Then the mossy ground turns to stone underneath your feet, and you slow. Caves. Perfect.

You hurry inside, fatigued legs forgotten in your relief. There’s a bend directly beyond the mouth of the cave, and you gently lay Cal against the wall. You’re completely hidden from anyone looking from the entrance. You sit opposite him, your head falling forward to sag against your chest. Now what?

Your comm unit is busted, and Cal’s is sitting back on the Mantis, so you can’t contact the crew. You hold a hand to Cal’s forehead. His temperature is getting worse. You don’t know what infected him, so your Force healing is out of the question. The only bright spot is you’re pretty sure the stormtroopers won’t find you. They’re not exactly recruited for their brains, and you’ll be able to sense their muted Force signatures if they get close.

Speaking of…

You trail off, contemplating Cal’s unconscious face. His head sags against the rock wall and there’s a line of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth. His brow is finally relaxed, his breathing deep and even and it strikes you that this is the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

You reach out through the Force. It has become a habit for you, Merrin, and Cal to find peace in each others’ Force signature. Whether nightmares or difficult missions, the others would be there as a silent comfort.

Merrin’s is a mixture of whites and creams swirling against a dark maroon background. When she uses her Force magic, there is an unmistakable green tinge through it. Hers is powerful, with a sense of underlying safety in her strength. True to form, Merrin has been a protector figure in the Mantis.

But Cal’s is more diverse, a blend of warm colors against a grey background with blue tinging the edge. But while the colors are chaotic, Cal keeps a firm hold on his Force presence at all times, never allowing it to surge violently from emotion. He does not suppress it completely anymore, but you know he has the ability to make it nearly disappear from the senses of another Force user. You should know, because you can do the same. Merrin grew up without fear of having to hide her Force sensitivity, but you and Cal survived the Purge. You both have firm grasps of your thoughts and emotions projected through the Force. So in Cal, you found a kindred spirit that understands you better than almost any other person in the galaxy could. You’ve become more familiar with his presence than even your Master’s before the Purge.

But now, your brow furrows as you search for his Force presence over and over, pushing into every crevice of the surrounding environment without violating his privacy. You’re not mistaken. It’s gone, almost as if he has been turned into a droid before your eyes. Every living thing has a Force presence, no matter how minute. But Cal’s comforting whirl of light is gone, vanished as though he is no longer connected to the--

Cal’s eyes fly open and he sits forward with a quiet gasp. You jump. It’s worn off then. You secure his body with the Force, holding him loosely so as not to cause any lasting damage. You would have to tackle the Force connection problems later.

“I need you to focus.” He pushes against the bonds with a whimper, and you bite your lip as you struggle to hold him still.

“Cal!” Your Force bind tightens, and he stills with a grunt. “Talk to me. Fight through it.”

He shakes his head, eyes screwed shut. “Hurts.”

“What hurts?”

“Every-- ah! Everything. Can’t-- can’t th-think. Only thing-- makes it better… you.”

What? Your concentration lapses and the bonds loose. He lunges forward and buries his nose into your neck again, inhaling you as his hands scrabble at your clothes. “Hurts less with you. Smell so good--soft. Please?”

Stars, you can’t think straight with him touching you like this. You bite back a moan as his hands roughly squeeze your breasts through your shirt. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to give in. Just for a little. Indulge, and then you can figure out a way back to the Mantis. Then Cal raises your shirt and licks a long stripe up your neck, and that’s all the convincing you need.

You melt into his mouth, your hands running under his shirt and harness. His chest is just as feverishly hot as his forehead, but you can’t bring yourself to care when he swings a leg over yours so he’s hovering over you, knees planted on either side of your body. His hands shove your shirt over your head before setting to work on the button of your pants. You raise your hips to allow him to pull your pants under your butt. Your own hands yank at his clothes, silently begging him to strip with you.

But he doesn’t. He kneels between your legs and pulls your underwear to the side, exposing your wet folds.

“Cal--!” You’re cut off as he drags his tongue over your pussy, flicking against your clit at the end. Your stomach muscles contract, and it’s all you can do to keep quiet as he licks deep into your core.

---

The world is blurred. It’s like something crawled into his head and messed with his brain, dragging his focus away from more important issues… he can’t seem to remember right now. He can’t even feel the Force. His connection is compromised, the colors of the world are off, and there’s this bone deep ache within his body urging him closer to you. And as he’s drinking in your taste, the pain subsides and he can breathe again.

What is this? What’s happening to him? It has to be the pollen, it has to be its effect on his body, that’s why he’s lost all control over his mind and self. It’s why he can’t hold himself back from your body and you.

You’re all he can focus on; you’re so beautiful writhing under him as he tastes you. He’s never done this before. He can’t figure out why he hasn’t done this sooner, because you taste amazing right now and how you sound as he slides his tongue through your folds is doing things to him that he’s never experienced before.

His hips are dragging against the floor unintentionally. The friction of his dick against the rough material of his pants is a small slice of heaven, and he whimpers at the pure electricity spreading down his spine. He doesn’t want this to end so soon, but his body is shoving him towards the edge of release and the relief he knows is going to come with it.

---

A moan keens high in the back of your throat as Cal’s mouth presses against your soaked core. It’s sloppy and clumsy, but Maker if he doesn’t make up for it with enthusiasm. The only sounds coming from him are tiny moans and grunts and you shudder as his fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs, leveraging them apart and holding them there firmly. Of their own will, your hips roll up into his face, chasing after his touch.

You’re completely unprepared for Cal to growl when you do so. His grip tightens, and you squeak as your thighs are spread even farther apart and his mouth completely envelopes your clit.

Is this what heaven feels like? You can barely manage coherent thought when his tongue is devastating you like this, but thequestion rotates around your lust dumb brain as your toes curl and your back arches. Your release rushes up and sweeps you away, your core clenching as waves of pleasure wash over your body. You hear Cal whine as you cum, and you hear your own moans as you ride out your orgasm.

---

Stars, why hadn’t he done this sooner? The sounds that he’s pulling out of you right now could make him come in his pants on the spot, and the taste of your release has him rutting against the ground all the more insistently as he chases his own high.

But he doesn’t want to come in his pants, he wants to be inside of you. He wants you, your body squeezing tight around him, to feel the wetness seeping around his tongue rather than tasting it, even if it tastes divine.

He grabs your hips and yanks you down so your crotch is flush to his. He nearly loses his mind when your soaked core meets the bulge in his pants. Fuck, he thought he could wait, but he can’t.

But--something is still off with the world’s coloring. Where is the Force? The comforting pressure is gone from the back of his mind, the constant reminder of balance that keeps him in tune with his emotions and surroundings. Panic edges around the perimeter of his mind. In an act of desperation, he reaches for the Force, searching for the whispers of memories that accompany his world. They’re gone. Where did they go?

You whisper his name again, and this time his eyes meet yours.

---

You watch Cal carefully. He’s flushed, trembling as he hovers over your body, hands bare centimeters away from your skin. His eyes are desperate, and you can feel the pain in them as clearly as if it was your own. A bead of sweat tracks down his temple to soak into the collar of his harness, and he fumbles to rip the rest of his clothing off, discarding it on the floor as though it burned against his flesh.

“Cal.” He looks back at you. “Take what you need.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Relief and something else flashes through his eyes before he looks back down and fumbles with his pants fastening. His cock is flushed dark red, and his hands tremble as he pulls it out of his pants, jaw clenched as he lines up with your entrance. He slides into you with a bone-deep sigh of relief, and you cry out at the stretch. Every inch sparks pure electricity up your spine, and your eyes roll back in your head. He bottoms out, and for a heart stopping moment you feel a connection to him you couldn’t describe in words. Your hips roll against his, grinding the head of his cock up against something heavenly. Light explodes behind your eyes at the movement, arching your back and curling your toes.

Cal chokes, a beautiful sound you’ve only heard a few times before; the one that sounds like its been pulled from the deepest parts of his being, like he’s just ascended to another plane above the physical. It’s gorgeous and so insanely hot you’re completely unprepared for his sudden movement when he lunges forward.

Cal’s hand shoots out and presses against your neck, effectively pinning your upper body to the hard ground. You inhale shakily through your nose, but his grip does nothing more than hold you. You can still breathe, but the pressure on your throat sends a shock of heat between your legs with the reminder of the control you just relinquished.

“Stop that.” His other arm slams onto the stone beside your head, and your eyes lock. Cal’s pupils are blown, so dark you can almost see your reflection in the dim light of the cave as he glares down at you.

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he drags his hips away from yours, inch by painstaking inch and rocks back into your body with an easy roll of his hips. He exhales gently as he bottoms back out inside of you, a low moan rumbling out of his throat when he reaches that same depth within your heat.

It’s the eye of a storm; a hurricane you hadn’t known you’d entered. He rocks back and forth again, only there’s fractionally more force and speed to the motion this time. Again, and your body shakes with the force. Another, and you have to bite your lip to stifle the scream when he slams back into your body. It’s like the tide, coming in gradually, but more and more with each passing moment. The force swells, each thrust pushing into you a little harder and making your body shake a little more with each thrust.

A shuddering groan rumbles out of him as he finds the rhythm. The hand not pressed delicately around your throat slams down on the rock next to your head. When you look up towards the cave ceiling, Cal’s flushed skin and tousled hair fills your vision.

His hair, which is usually swept out of his eyes. Cal’s hair has always been so well cared for, usually brushed and slicked back so it doesn’t dangle in his eyes. Now, it’s soaked with sweat and falling into his face as he stares down at you like you’re the only star in the sky.

---

Take what you need? Holy stars, he can barely think enough to comprehend it, but some inner part of him aches at the sentence.

As soon as he realized his heart jumped every time you smiled at something, or that his brain short circuited at the sound of your laugh, he’d sworn he would keep it under wraps. He’d promised himself he would wait until after the galaxy finishes imploding and collapsing around your heads. The first time he’d jerked off to the idea of your body, he vowed to satisfy himself with his hand until it was safe. He’d wait until after the holocron is safe and there’s nothing to worry about, because relationships are messy and complicated and--

Fuck, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about that promise, because how can he regret being balls deep in you while you’re whining and squirming underneath him, when you look at him with such trust even as he pins you to the floor by your throat? His eyes gravitate to the mark on your neck, red and irritated with the indent of his teeth, and he feels his cock twitch even as he continues to pound into you. He likes that.

The promise didn’t keep his eyes from wandering to your face at any opportunity. It didn’t prevent the pressure in his chest from growing over the weeks and months. It definitely didn’t keep Cere and Greez from noticing, and that was a conversation he would rather have scrubbed from his mind.

Take what you need. That one sentence is spinning his world on its metaphorical finger. Take what you need. As if he didn’t want it, but he needed to do it. In all honesty, it had really felt like he was going to die. The burning in his throat that caused the coughing fit, then the racing heart and the overheating; he thought he wasn’t going to make it unless he--

Well, unless he fucked you.

But even if he needs it, he wants it even more, had wanted it for too long. But everytime an opportunity presented itself, he pulled back. He remembers how he threw away the flowers he gathered on the mission instead of bringing them back to you on the Mantis. He remembers every time he denied spending time with you, because his emotions were too raw and close to the surface, and he couldn’t predict his control over his own tongue. Because he didn’t think he could have handled it if you didn’t want him back.

But you had offered to help. Maybe you’d wanted it too, because the whole galaxy could be shoving you in one direction and you would defy it. Nothing can make you do anything you didn’t want to, and that applies to Cal Kestis too.

---

Your orgasm swells up sharp and sudden, gripping you in its claws and shoving you into the attack of muscle spasms and searing pleasure that punches into your abdomen. Your body arches, accidentally hitting your head against the ground.

Cal’s rhythm stutters and his hips jerk forward. His hand leaves your throat as he drops to his forearms. His head drops down to press against yours gently, even as he whimpers and continues to grind forward into your soaking heat.

“Fuck.” Cal gasps, eyelids fluttering rapidly. “Fuck. ‘M gonna cum.”

There’s no time to respond before he’s drawing up and tensing against you. His hips piston in and out once, then he’s cumming and all you can do is lie there and take it. Fuck that’s hot.

You can feel him spilling into you, every warm spurt of cum and every twitch of his cock as he spends himself. Even better is the drawn out groan that trails into his upper register, ending in a tiny whimper. The tension drains out of his face and he sags down, sweaty skin pressed against yours. His arms wrap around your body and he hoists your limp body up as he rolls over. He sits against the wall of the cave, seating you on his lap, cock still firmly buried inside you.

You allow your head to sag back against his shoulder, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed so closely to yours. His hand paws weakly at the fabric of your shirt, and you raise your arms to slide it off. It’s better like this, skin to skin contact seems to calm him down. He buries his nose into your bare neck and mumbles something you can’t make out.

You nudge your head against his gently, “Hm?”

“Thank you.” His lips ghost over the delicate juncture between your neck and shoulder. “Thank you thank you thank you...” He continues to mutter the phrase into your skin, tickling your skin as he nuzzles closer to you.

You should say something. Confess, maybe, everything you’ve been hiding. “Cal, I--” You shift slightly, and something feels off. You furrow your brow and glance downwards at your joining point, “Cal are you still hard?”

He props his chin on your shoulder. “Uh--” He thrusts shallowly up into you, and you stifle a whimper. “Ye-yeah. Sorry?”

“N--” You gasp as his cock twitches. “No. Don’t be sorry. Do you need to go again?” Arousal stirs in your core again, burning a slow path through your nerves and reigniting the flames that had dulled to embers. Your breath catches in your chest and you grind your hips back into his.

“I--I think so.” His voice is strained and his breath comes in short gasps next to your ear. “Not-- not as-- as bad though.”

“That--ah!” Cal chooses that exact moment to pick a spot on your neck and latch on. He nips at the skin before soothing it with his tongue. His hands, roughened with callouses from his saber, climbing, and tinkering, scrape over your skin with just the right amount of friction. You bite your bottom lip. “That’s fine. Should I move?”

His hands find your hips and hold you firmly in place. That’s a no then. His hips rock up into yours gently, and you feel your cheeks warm at the wet sounds of your combined release. Cal grunts, “Let me.”

So you do. You lie back against his bare chest and just take what he gives you, whimpering whenever he brushes against that spot inside you that sends electricity up your spine. You’re gripping his arms so hard you’re sure he’s going to have bruises in the shape of your fingers.

---

Stars, you’re fucking perfect. Just lying here and giving yourself to him. He can feel the Force dimly, but it’s there. The pollen is leaving his system as he slowly fucks you on a cave floor in the middle of a dense forest while stormtroopers patrol outside.

You cry out with his next thrust, the head of his cock striking something inside of you that must feel good because you clench around him and--

Did you just come again?

The additional lubrication only increases the lewd squelch with every thrust, the mixture of his cum and yours only making sliding in and out of your channel easier. He can still feel the effects of the pollen at the back of his mind, and it keeps him hard and sensitive as he continues to fuck you.

He’s aware he should be at least a little worried about the implications, starting at the top with how he’s going to complete the mission and ending with what exactly fucking on a cave floor means for your relationship. Somewhere in the middle is the stormtroopers and the pollen, and the oath of the Jedi Order forbidding relationships. But he can’t grasp it.

Even if there are more pressing concerns, all he can do right now is continue pushing his hips up into your soaking core painstakingly slowly. He wants to enjoy this while he can, while he’s able to fool himself that you want him back. Unless…

---

The only solace you could find in the situation was that you could have Cal, even for these few short moments. Because as much as you may want to convince yourself, a tiny voice inside your head keeps whispering: it’s all the pollen. That’s the only reason why he wants you. And you force yourself to believe the voice, because it’s easier to block off any chance for pain and rejection.

But you know you’re in trouble the second Cal opens his mouth. The words are a harsh whisper, rasping out of his dry throat into your ear, “Beautiful. So gorgeous, giving me what I need, what I want.”

You arch against him and stifle the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His mouth is right next to your ear, so there isn’t anywhere for you to escape from the words that rumble into your brain; words you try to convince yourself are empty. You shove your hand against your mouth rather than allow any sound to escape.

He moans, “Want to do this again. Don’t want this to be just once.”

“Th--that--that’s the pollen talking.” You gasp when you feel his fingers graze over your clit, your own hand drifting back to latch into his hair.

Cal hisses when you tug with a little more strength than necessary, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. One hand supports your weight as he moves you up and down on his dick, the other rubbing little circles around your clit. His hips make up for the lost strength everytime they drive up into you at the lowest point of the rhythm, squelching with every thrust.

“Not--not the pollen. All you. All me.”

You blink, all temporarily forgotten when the words register in your hazy mind. “...What?”

“Wanted this. Wanted this for a while.” Cal finds your clit with his fingers, and you can’t prevent the way your legs jerk and your body seizes against his.

Fuck you’re going to cum. If the first orgasm was a flashfire, this one is a slowly simmering blaze. It creeps up slowly, burning a hole through your abdomen, curling around your ribs and inching down your legs. Your eyes roll back, and your head falls back against Cal’s shoulder.

“Cal. I--I thi--” You try to warn him, you really do. But words aren’t forming correctly right now, and it’s all you can do to hunker down and try to prepare yourself for this truly devastating crest that’s preparing to launch you over the edge.

If Cal gets your warning, he doesn’t show it. All he does is turn his head to the side, press a light kiss to your cheek, and groan, “I think I love you.”

Oh shit. Cal’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect if he planned it. Before you can respond, hell, before you can even begin to fucking process that last sentence, you’re coming hard. Maybe it’s the whiff of pollen you got earlier, or the fact that Cal is the one fucking you so sweetly and thoroughly, or the thrill of being mere steps away from discovery, or a combination of all of it, but this orgasm certainly feels like the most intense of your life.

Spasms ripple outward through your belly, curling you up in Cal’s lap as you ride out your high. Your legs straighten and your toes curl and you clamp down hard around Cal’s cock.

Cal shouts raggedly in your ear, pulling your body close. But even as you whimper and shake on the end of his cock, you remember that you can’t make too much sound.

As if he heard you, Cal burrows his face into your shoulder, his teeth once again finding a place in your skin to muffle his voice as he cums deep inside you once more. His body shakes as he spends himself again, the spasms slowly subsiding with every jerk of his hips into yours.

‘I did hear you.’ There’s a tinge of amusement to the nonexistent voice that echoes in your mind, and you relax back against Cal.

‘Feeling better?’ You nudge him back through the Force, revelling in the feeling of his colorful presence swirling around you once again. The pollen has worn off.

He doesn’t say anything in response, only pulls you close with his arms around you. His mind pushes at yours, and you let him in. You’ve done this a million times, usually on the tail end of nighttime panic attacks, but this time is different. This is the most loose he has ever been with his Force presence, and you allow it to fill the empty parts of your mind. Wait, he loves you?

He rushes over you in the same way the tide comes back to land, calming your fear at finally understanding the weight of his last confession. He’s relaxed, and the familiar energy has a new angle to it, a new emotion you hadn’t felt before in another’s Force signature. You grasp it gently, turning it over and admiring it in the eye of your mind. What is it?

The answer rushes to you just as Cal mutters against your skin, “Love.” The same thing you’d been feeling in the pit of your heart every time you looked at Cal, everytime he kept you safe from the nightmares in his arms and stayed with you until morning, every time you made him tea and did maintenance on his gear after a tough mission.

“I love you.”

You blink up at the ceiling of the rock cave, mouth open with the words just on the tip of your tongue. But they won’t come. The words are stuck in your throat, and try as you might, you can’t make yourself say them.

“Hey.” Cal whispers in your ear, and you shut your mouth. “You don’t have to say it back. But you know that I do, and I know a little of what’s going on up here.” His finger taps the side of your head lightly. "You don't have to figure out where to go from here. I'll navigate."

‘Thank you.’ You send the words through the Force, and he acknowledges them. Yeah, you're shit at knowing where to go when it comes to feelings. But at least with Cal, you won't have to worry about getting lost alone. You sit in peaceful silence for a few minutes, before a thought occurs to you.

“Cal.” His name is little more than a weak rasp off your tongue. You clear your throat and try again. “Cal.”

He grunts unintelligibly.

“Don’t bring that seed back to the Mantis.”

A/N: I will be the first to admit that this fic was hard, because I wanted to incorporate some previous feelings into this to make it less dubcon, and I didn't feel that all plot holes were filled. But that didn't make this any less enjoyable for me, and it was fun to explore a new facet of Cal's character.

Thanks for everyone who gave me inspiration and motivation to keep pushing this through the old brain up here. Smut isn't the easiest for me:)

Taglist: @alliterative-albatross

#cal kestis #cal kestis x reader #sex pollen #pining fools #pining #fluff #feelings #smut

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littlest-dark-age · 3 years

Text

Human nature takes over me

Tagging @noshame-bb @daddydamiano @mywritingonlyfans

!!!nsfw content!!! Please do not read if you do not wish to consume nsfw content. 18+

includes cream pie, body worship, dirty talk, slight bondage slight jealousy, mentions of alcohol, and if I missed anything please let me know.

Scopami - Fuck me

Mi stai facendo morire - You are killing me

Amo il tuo sapore - I love how you taste

Cazzo, sei così stretto, dolcezza - You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart

Viene per me - Come for me

Due to all the chaos that had been going on in Damiano's life, the two of you hadn't been able to see one another as often as both of you would like. Which led to the idea for you and the others to go to a small bar in the city, one vic swore by as her favorite and said that you would love it as well. She even helped you get ready whilst the boys were doing the same in the larger bathroom of the house.

Vic helped you pick out the rather sexy outfit, claiming that you had just the shoes for it and that they would complete your look. From your hair, to your stockings, you felt and looked hot. She claimed that your confidence is what sold the look, that it was the perfect finishing touch.

Soon enough, the five of you pile into the uber Ethan thoughtfully ordered. Knowing that none of you would want to drive later, nor would some of you be in the shape to. Squishing into the middle seat between Thomas and Damiano, your lover soon realizes that the two of you might be leaving the bar earlier than your counterparts. With distance, comes need. Damiano realizes how long it had been since the two of you were able to go at it as hard as you normally would when you were in his house in Rome, although it doesn't mean the two of you were shy about your affections.

You were simply not able to be as open as you usually were if you were alone, despite the fact that damiano walks around practically naked already. He wasn't able to have you spread open in the shared spaces, not wanting to risk anything too much. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time one of the others had walked in on you entangled one another in a less than savory place. But he still prefered to keep such accidents to a minimum.

Damiano is so lost in his thoughts, which were riddled with you, that he doesn't feel the car stop and it's only when you grip his arm does he realize that he zoned out the entire drive.

He shoots you a dazzling smile, shaking off your concern with a promise that he merely got caught up in his mind and that he wanted to be here tonight.

Holding your hand, the two of you walk into the small bar behind the others. He quickly presses a kiss to your temple before shuffling off to grab your drinks from the bartender, your usual order burned into his memory from the amount of times you've ordered it on dates.

You follow vic to the small table she managed to snag, looking around at the surprisingly full bar. Turns out, she's not the only one who really likes it. Damiano smiles at the sight of you two talking and laughing with one another before looking back at the bartender and paying for the drinks in front of him. He manages to grab them all and begins to walk back over to the table without spilling them, much more difficult than he thought would be due to the crowd.

He carefully sets the glasses down before sliding yours over in front of you and vic, bringing his to his mouth for a sip as he focuses on the conversation going between your and her. Shuffling closer to you, he wraps an arm around your waist with a quick squeeze before pressing a kiss to your cheek. Looking around the bar for Ethan or Thomas, trying to make sure they don't get into too much trouble, he's too busy to see the large man stumble over to you. Reeking of a strong alcohol, the man sends you a grin.

"Hey precious, wanna get out of here?" You can hardly make out his words due to the way they slur and run together, your nose wrinkling at the thought of going home with someone other than your lover, much less a man who can barely keep himself up on his own two feet.

He leans even closer, letting the smell of his drink grow even stronger as he attempts to wink at you. In his mind, you're sure, an awfully seductive thing. But it comes out as more of a halfway blink, slowed by his dulled senses. His eyes lock onto your chest, licking his lips not so subtly.

"No thank you, please leave our table." You try to be as polite as you can, worried what the wrong words could possibly lead to.

It seems Damiano has gotten so caught up in looking for Ethan or Thomas that he drifted away from the table, now standing however many feet away. Far enough to not be able to smell the stench of the drunkard in front of you, and certainly far enough so that the only thing he hears is the music bursting through the bar and not your words. He looks at you, a bit of heart break gleaming in his eyes as he watches what he thinks is flirting. Noticing your glass still untouched, knowing you were stone cold sober and that you wouldn't be able to blame the drinks for the 'flirting'.

Swiftly, he shuffles over towards you and misses the look of relief you shoot him in favor of staring down the large man that had since placed his sweaty hand on your own. His face hardens when he notices the affection.

"What's going on here, amore?" Trying to keep his words sweet, yet they still come laced with a venom not unknown to you.

"He was just leaving." You snatch your hand out from under the strangers, scooting closer to damiano to put as much space between the two of you. Eyes flickering between the two men, briefly wondering how far the drunkard would be willing to push your lover.

The stranger rolls his eyes, mumbling something about you being a bitch under his breath before stumbling off to find the next willing participant for the night. A wave of disgust rolls over you, forcing a shiver from you at the thought of going home with him.

Damiano looks at you, still assuming that there was something more going on with the two of you than was. Not exactly knowing how to approach the subject.

Has he been gone too long? Had your flame finally weathered to a mere ember without his notice? Sure, touring and everything is hard on the two of you but he thought the two of you were better than that. He would have brought you with him if it had been allowed, really. Were you so done with him that you would flirt with someone mere feet away from him, not bothering by the fact that if he was to just turn around, he would spot you?

You can see the thoughts swirl around in his mind, quickly sending a text to vic that the two of you were leaving. Using a piss poor excuse of not feeling well and wanting damiano to take care of you, as he typically did whenever you truly were sick.

"Let's go home damia, yes?" Slowly you tug him towards the exit of the bar, spotting Thomas and giving him a small wave as you grip Damiano's hand and tug him out of the doors. His body seems to be on autopilot as he zones out for what feels like the hundredth time of the night, not noticing the time it takes for the uber to arrive nor the time passing as you ride in the backseat. Your thumb stroking along his knuckles, running down his tattoo and rings as well.

Damiano only comes out of his trance when he hears you unlocking the door, still letting you lead him as you take him up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. Did you bring him home just so you could break up with him? Did you know the way he would bawl and grovel, just to keep the love of his life in his world?

You disappear into the adjacent bathroom, he can hear your jewelry hitting the large marble counter and your shoes hitting the cabinets when you take them off. A few moments later, you come out of the bathroom. Fresh faced and wearing a shirt he's sure is his own, a cloth in your hand to wipe away his own makeup the same you did to yours. Evidence on the underside of the cloth.

Walking over to him, you give him a sweet smile before sitting on his lap as your free hand cradles his face whilst the other busies itself with wiping away the dark makeup surrounding his eyes. Soon, you finish cleaning his face and chunk the cloth onto the bedside table before starting to unbutton the simple shirt he chose tonight. Slowly revealing inch after inch of his tanned skin and his tattoos, which you always remind him you adore.

Damiano shuts his eyes as he feels your soft lips on his neck, relishing in the way you seem to mould yourself into him. Always slotting perfectly in his arms, never feeling like you don't belong in them. His brain, on the other hand, seems to not want to shut off. Not being able to get the image out of his head of that man touching you.

"Amore, amore, hold on." It pains him the way you look at him as if your touch has burned him. Your brows furrowed with wonder, worried you might be pushing yourself onto him when he just wanted a nice night in bed with you. But he has to know. If he doesn't find the answer, it might drive him mad

"Were…...were you…...flirting with the man at the bar? Before I came over? Have I done something, dolcezza?"

It takes you a second to realize what Damiano is asking, almost as if you don't even want to think about the meaning of his words.

"No, no. He was drunk and wanting to take me home, and I didn't want to make a huge scene. Baby no, I turned him down. You're the only person I could ever want." By the look on Damiano's face, you can still see a seedling of doubt lingering. An idea pops into your head and brings a grin to your face as you look into his honey eyes, seeing nothing but love and want in them.

"Can I show you how much I want you?" Comes as a soft whisper, breathed on to his own lips before you pull him into a deep kiss. The kind he's been yearning for the moment he heard of the plans to go out tonight, feeling your hand slide down his chest and rest above his XXX tattoo which is currently hidden by his pants.

You feel him nod into the kiss and giggle as he chases after your lips when you pull away in favor of kissing his neck once again. Nipping at the sensitive skin, as well as rubbing your hands up and down his chest before going up to his shoulders and pushing the unbuttoned shirt off of his lean body.

"I need to go grab something, can you handle taking your pants off without touching yourself?" You ask, watching as his eyes slowly open half way before giving you a soft nod.

Jumping out of his lap and going into the closet in hunt for whatever, Damiano starts to unzip his pants and kicks off his shoes. Walking around the side of the bed, he peaks into the closet just in time for you to find your mystery item. Instantly recognizing the red fabric, one of the scarfs they sell with the månedkin logo printed onto it. Sitting down onto the plush bed, still watching as you walk out of the closet and crawl on top of him.

Reaching for his hands, you quickly tie his wrists together and make sure they're not too tight before pushing him onto his back and moving his hands above his head.

"Now. I'm going to do whatever the hell I want so I can show you how much I want you. No, actually. How much I need you." You start to press kisses onto his neck, before going down onto his inked collarbone and tracing the letters with your nail as you go along.

You feel the vibrations from his whines roll through his chest, where your soft lips meet dark inked skin. His whines draw a smile from you, knowing the effect you had on him. Damiano's mind races, wondering what your next move will be. In all fairness, this wasn't how he expected the night to go so why should he be able to expect what happens to him next.

Slowly, you kiss down his chest, leaving a trail of sweet and teasing kisses as you go. Stopping when you reach his pierced nipple, looking up into his deep brown eyes as your teeth barely graze the sensitive skin. Damiano exhales a shaky breath as you tug on the bar, his cock already aching with need as you softly grind on him from your spot in his lap. Not enough to give either of you any real friction, but just enough so that he could feel your slick through his soft boxers.

The thin material doing so little yet so much to keep him from where he wanted most, a wet patch growing from both of you as it started to stick to him. Damiano shuts his eyes and tosses his head back into the pillow which smells like you, not helping how hard his cock is straining against your.

"Scopami, Mi stai facendo morire." Comes out as a groan, his eyebrows pinched together with a pretty look of need.

"Baby, I'm busy here. Can't you tell? Gotta show my pretty boy how much he means to me, you're never going to forget it again. Gonna mark you up too, let everybody know that I'm yours and you're mine." Purred into his chest, where you finally pull away from his nipple to sit up and look at the mess you've made out of your lover.

Red marks litter his chest, evidence of where you nipped at the tattoo that spreads across his collar bones. Hands tied together above his head with a måneskin scarf, dark hair a mess from where he has been gripping at it and tossing his head back. Damiano's chest rises with each heavy breath you steal from him, entire body on display except the one area he desperately wants freed from its cloth confinements.

"I promise, I know I'm yours. Just wanna be in you, I'll be good. Just, please cucciolo…" The words die off into more whimpers, his Adam's apple bobbing with the swallow he does. Unable to control himself, he feels his hips start to buck up into you. Wanting, needing more friction soon otherwise he thinks he might cry, not that it hasn't happened from your passion filled nights before and it certainly wouldn't be the last time he loses himself to you so much that all he can do is cry out your name and let the tears run down his face.

"Well, since you asked me so nicely,…" You completely pull away from his lean body, laughing softly at the pout which quickly forms on his face. ",lift your hips for me baby, gonna get these off of you." Gesturing to the stained material.

Damiano does as you ask, helping you peel off the sticky fabric before spreading his legs slightly. Giving you a full view of his weeping tip, now resting against his stomach and smearing pre-cum all over the soft skin. Red tip matching the shade of flush covering his cheeks.

Leaning down, you lick up the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue before rolling it around his head. You see his grip on his own hair tighten, veins popping in his hands and arms.

"Amo il tuo sapore." Kissed into the skin of his belly with a grin, not giving the dark eyed man anything substantial yet.

You sit back and slowly take off the oversized shirt that the two of you would share sometimes, finally revealing your form to Damiano, teasing him with your pace as you have been all night. Shuffling towards him, you straddle his hips before pressing a sweet and soft kiss to his soft lips. Slowly pouring every ounce of love and devotion into the small action, then taking his aching cock and lining it up with your cunt before sinking onto it.

"Cazzo, sei così stretto, dolcezza." Damiano groans out, unable to believe how well you take him every time and how it feels like you were made for this. Like the two of you were crafted together and meant to be as one, always feeling whole when he's in your embrace.

He can feel himself already dangerously close to the edge, every shift of your hips threatening to shove him off of it. As you start to bounce, he can feel the coil in his belly twisting tighter and tighter with every movement you make. His cheeks flush even more, embarrassed that he isn't going to last very long but not really being able to do anything to stop.

"It's okay baby, you can cum. I got you," your movements only slow a bit, focusing on him for the moment like you promised earlier ",cum in me baby."

Your words push him off of the edge, pulling loud and breathy moans from him as he cums in your cunt, shooting ropes of warmth into you. Gently rocking your hips to work him through his orgasm, giving him a moment to adjust to the new sensitivity. Slowly you start to bounce again, making him shoot you a confused look before drawing even more moans from his throat.

"Oh honey, you didn't think I was gonna stop, did you? That's cute…" You grin down at him, your hands cupping your tits as they bounce with your movements.

Damiano's eyes start to tear up, slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure and the pain that interwove itself in it. Your cunt still milking him for everything he's worth while shooting sensitivity with every motion of your body. He knows the two of you will be sticky and sweaty by the end of the night, sheets will need to be changed but at the moment he can't seem to care. Too focused on the feeling of your walls sucking him back in and the damn near scorching heat you're radiating. But he can't stop himself from wanting more, more of the pain and sensitivity and the heat. More of you and the way you wrap around him is so divine.

One of your hands snakes down to where you and damiano connect, starting to rub fast circles on your clit as his eyes glue to the action. Watching like this would be the last time he would ever be able to see such beauty. Watching your face twist in pleasure and he can feel you clench even harder around his cock.

The all too familiar coil springs back to life in the pit of his stomach, your expressions quickly tightening it as well as the sounds you're making.

"Viene per me, cucciolo. Wanna do it with you." He isn't sure if you're able to put together his slightly slurred words, before seeing you quickly nod your head and pick up the pace.

Skin on skin and moans echo throughout the room, too caught up in one another to care who might hear. Your other hand leaves your chest in favor to support yourself, speeding your hips even more with the extra balance found on damiano's own chest.

Your moans grow in volume the closer you get to the edge, unable to hold back the sounds your lover seems to always get out of you.

Damiano feels the coil burst once more, thrusting his hips up into you, sending you hurdling over the edge yourself. Stilling your movements, you peek open your eyes to look down at him, a soft grin spreading across your face as you feel him cum in you again. Creamy white starting to leak out and down his shaft, but neither of you seem to mind as you lean down to press your cheek against his flushed chest.

"Now, do you believe me when I say that I only want you?" You peer up at him from your relaxed position.

He nods, before pulling his hands through the loose knot in the scarf and pressing a kiss to your sweat slicked forehead.

#damiano david imagine #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x reader #damiano david #damiano david smut #måneskin imagine #måneskin x y/n #måneskin x reader #måneskin #måneskin smut #maneskin x y/n #maneskin imagine #maneskin x reader #maneskin #maneskin smut

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novelconcepts · 3 years

Note

omg can you do a print of damie in canon just interacting with flora bc i would love that

She’s lost Flora.

There is, Dani thinks with the forced calm of one already beginning to spiral, little cause to panic. The house is big, but it’s not that big--and Flora is a good kid. She’s not exactly prone to just wandering off. She certainly wouldn’t, say, vanish from sight and reappear somewhere unexpected, suddenly acting like she didn’t entirely remember the time in between.

That doesn’t sound like Flora at all.

She isn’t running, per se, from room to room. Running would suggest there is a problem to be handled, and if she starts thinking along those lines--if she starts obsessing about Flora’s distinctly off-putting way of gazing over her shoulder, of saying things just a little too odd to be hand-waved away, of looking at Dani as though she can see straight through her to the unease thrumming under the surface--well. That way lies nothing useful. Nothing at all.

“Have you seen Flora?” The kitchen had seemed a good bet. Here, after all, is Owen, puttering away over the ingredients for the evening’s meal, his mood somber as he uses the manor to avoid reflecting on his mother’s upcoming funeral. Here is Hannah, dutifully rearranging the china, pretending not to steal glances at Owen’s lanky frame every few seconds. That spot at the table is made for Flora, little legs hanging off the chair, brimming with questions--

But Flora isn’t there, and Owen is shaking his head.

“Not since lunch. Lost her, have you?”

No, she almost snaps. A count of three, a long-held breath; she smiles tightly, reminding herself that this is not Owen’s fault, nor Owen’s job. The children will be your responsibility alone, after all.

“She’s quick,” she says instead. Hannah purses her lips.

“Perhaps upstairs with Miles?”

She isn’t. Miles, bent over a book with a solemn expression, blinks up at her as though she’s dragged him by the shirt collar out of the actual wardrobe to Narnia.

“She asked me to color--what time is it?”

“Two,” Dani says, sparing the briefest glance for her watch. He shrugs.

“An hour ago, I think? I told her to ask Hannah.” A flash of concern crosses his face, a too-adult creasing of brow. “Was that wrong? I just wanted to finish my book--”

“It’s fine,” Dani assures him, ruffling his hair. Too-adult, his expression may be, but this is the most kid she’s seen Miles in days. The last thing she wants is to dissuade him from reading, or from the loose sprawl of his posture.

An hour, though. In the days since coming to Bly, Dani can’t remember twenty minutes passing without Flora turning up underfoot.

Outside, she thinks with another swell of barely-restrained panic. She’s outside. By the lake, probably, where Flora can so often be found keeping company with dolls and talismans and snatches of ethereal song.

It isn’t exactly a reassuring thought, particularly with summer rain sluicing down the windows, scattering over the roof like pellets. A storm, it isn’t, but an eight-year-old girl has no business wandering in weather like this.

You'd have loved it, at her age, Dani reminds herself. There’s nothing at all wrong with a little girl puddle-jumping for the sheer joy of it. Flora probably got bored, cooped up with a bunch of busy adults and her brother uninterested in playing games. She’s fine. She’s almost certainly fine.

An umbrella is waiting beside the door, still damp from Owen’s trip in before breakfast. Dani takes a breath, pops it open, steels herself for the brisk wind.

The grounds are gray, the puddles turning the grass to a squelchy mess beneath her shoes. She keeps her head up, her eyes carefully turned away from the puddles which sit like recklessly-dropped mirrors at every turn; if she so much as glances down and spots a flash of glasses, she’s not sure she’ll be able to keep her composure.

Flora is not by the lake, as it turns out. Nor the statue gardens. Nor the rose bushes. Flora is nowhere, she’s starting to think, and her mind is finally turning toward the worst--toward the depth of that lake, how easily a small girl might slip off the embankment and tumble headlong into its hungry waves without notice--when she remembers the greenhouse.

Jamie will help. The thought rises without warning, a solid patch of sunlight at the center of the storm. Jamie will help--because Jamie knows every corner of these grounds as well as her own hands. Jamie, who maybe doesn’t know Dani all that well, but didn’t seem to mind offering gentle reassurance, exchanging unexpectedly deep conversation on the couch...or Dani taking her hand in the dark. Jamie, who had said, Who the hell knew? Jamie, who had worn an expression a little like awe.

They haven’t had time to talk about it since, but even so. Even so, for Flora, Jamie is sure to--

She hesitates at the door, fist raised to knock. It feels foolish, rapping on the entry to a greenhouse like it’s Jamie’s own bedroom--but this is, she reasons, as close to Jamie’s home as she’s ever likely to get.

“Jamie, are you...”

“Here,” her voice comes from somewhere just out of sight. Dani takes a cautious step in out of the rain, jostling the umbrella and pulling it hastily shut. Best not to invite bad luck--she’s certainly already had her share.

“I’m looking for Flora,” she calls, feeling a bit silly. There’s so much going on in this room--plants and tables, pots and a variety of outdoor furniture draped with old blankets. Normally, Jamie is easy to spot amid the riot of greens and pinks, her hands busy coaxing seedlings to life. Today, Dani feels as though she’s tripped and fallen into a game of hide and seek.

“Don’t have to look far,” Jamie’s voice comes again--from behind the sofa, Dani thinks. “C’mere.”

“Miss Clayton!” Flora pipes up, and Dani feels the tension leave her body in a violent rush. Her hand grips the nearest table for support, her eyes closing in relief. “Come color with us”

“Come--sorry?” She can’t have heard right. Jamie? Jamie the gardener, putting aside work and temper to waste an afternoon on crayons?

Yes--yes, that appears to be exactly what Jamie is doing. Sprawled on her stomach, still dressed in her coveralls, she’s got a blue crayon in hand and a green one tucked behind her ear. She glances up as Dani steps nearer, a smile lighting her face.

“Kid came stumbling in out of the rain an hour ago. Expect she didn’t think to warn you in advance?”

“Sorry.” Flora offers a sheepish smile, sitting up quickly. “Are you very cross?”

“No, of course not.” Just going to need a minute to purge the image of finding you facedown in the goddamned lake, is all. “Next time, though, you’ll have to tell me you’re leaving the house alone. I need to know where you are at all times, Flora.”

She expects Jamie to scoff at this--to say, Ah, she was with me, she’s fine. Instead, Jamie stretches over to land a sharp flick on Flora’s upper arm.

“Rude to make Poppins worry. Look, she’s gone all pink.” She looks up at Dani, grinning. “Not a bad look, if we’re in the market for honesty.”

Dani suspects pink is the lightest shade she can manage, with Jamie gazing at her that way. It’s too easy, all of a sudden, to remember an unexpectedly soft hand under her own fingers, Jamie turning reflexively at the wrist to hold her back.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Flora says, a phrase Dani is starting to think is more Flora than even perfectly splendid. “Here--I was just about to do one of you!”

Jamie gestures with the blue crayon, a silent suggestion for Dani to sit beside her. “Might as well. Rain doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon.” She lowers her voice, eyes fixed on Flora’s determined rummage through the crayon box. “Sorry about that, Poppins. Know she’s been unpredictable lately, didn’t like the idea of her stumping around in the cold. If I’d known you were worried--”

“It’s all right.” In truth, she’s glad Flora made her way out here. Growing more pleased by the moment with this development, really, as Jamie slides a blank sheet of paper in front of her and presses a purple crayon into her hand.

“Join us. We’re doing portraiture.”

“I can see that,” Dani laughs. Jamie’s handiwork speaks of a distinct lack of care for detail--each sketch on her page is, at best, a stick figure with a single defining feature. “How does Owen hold up his head, carrying a mustache the size of his torso?”

“With minimal decorum,” Jamie says, grinning. “And she’s right, it’s your turn.”

Dani suspects she’s going less pink, more a volatile shade of maroon, with both parties squinting at her face, their papers, her face again. Flora is doing her very best work, taking several minutes just to select the closest shades of blue, yellow, pink. Jamie makes an enormous production of holding up a crayon, closing one eye, gauging proportions--and then, cheerfully, scrawling a figure identical to the other four already on the page.

“I’m taller than Hannah?” Dani asks, unable to resist a giggle. Jamie frowns.

“Ah, you’re...standin’ on a crate.” She adds a box beneath Dani’s non-existent feet with a flourish, nodding. “There. It’s symbolic.”

“Of what?”

“I’ve ranked you all on how much I like you. Takin’ into account, of course, certain accusations pointed my way regarding mud and shiny floorboards.” Jamie winks. Dani finds herself gripping her crayon almost hard enough to hurt.

“You’re not drawing, Miss Clayton!” Flora observes. Dani glances away from Jamie’s smile--a difficult act only a few days ago, nearly impossible now--and clears her throat.

“Well. Maybe just until the rain stops.”

There are, she thinks as a comfortable quiet settles over the greenhouse, infinitely worse ways to spend her afternoon.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #flora wingrave #soft prompts #hope this is about what you were looking for #soft it certainly is

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ladyhallen · 4 years

Text

The Making of a Sanctuary

Read on AO3

(no link to FFN, because it’s freaking misbehaving. It’s on time out at the moment.)

The first child of the Sanctuary was a boy.

He was a street urchin but Harry, passing by him on the street, felt the magic and paused. With a distracted air, Harry rummaged through his bags and produced a piece of bread.

Harry handed the child the bread and left.

But the child remembered.

The next day, when Harry realized that he needed more cheese, he passed by the same child and gave him another piece of bread.

The child devoured the bread, latched on to Harry’s cloak, and then doesn’t let go.

Harry looked at the boy with complete and utter bewilderment and just sighed. He found it a bit difficult to say no to children. It was a really bad weakness that was exploited with the puppy eyes mercilessly.

They’re like locusts and multiply.

The first child grabbed another one, and another one, and before Harry knew it, there’s an entire group of children living with him.

“We can’t keep living off of bread and cheese,” Harry said with some shock, because he hadn’t realized how many children there were with him. “And oh Merlin, what are you all wearing?”

The first one gave him a look, being bolder and less afraid of him. “It’s better than sleeping cold.”

Because of course, everyone was sleeping by the fireplace. Why hadn’t he noticed? He knew he could get preoccupied inside his head, being in the past made it especially worse, but this was ridiculous. By his count, there were fifteen children around him, eagerly pressing into each other for warmth.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he groaned. “I know I can get distracted, but this is ridiculous.”

With a wave of his wand, he conjured them all some blankets. It would disappear in two hours but it was better than the rags everyone was wearing.

“Now, let’s fix this. Rooms, right,” he muttered. But I also need some wood.” He glanced out and smiled. “How convenient, there’s a forest right there.”

Harry worked with a lot of children scurrying around underfoot.

Magic may have made things easier, but it didn’t fix everything. He still had to chop up the wood with precise slicing spells, peel off the bark and then speed up the drying process. Afterwards, measuring and then covering everything in varnish.

All the while, the idea of dorm rooms entered his mind and he knew how he wanted things to look like. Because he might not have planned for children, but these children only had him.

Next, he enlarged the space as he worked.

It took immense focus but he knew that it could happen. Newt Scamander could fit an entire world inside his suitcase, Harry could fit entire dormitories behind his pantry.

“What are we going to do for beds?” Simon, the first child, asked him.

Harry pursed his lips in thought. “I can make beds, we have enough wood to make furniture for all those rooms. It will require cotton and cloth though.”

That was a thought. Harry needed cotton and cloth and they also needed more food than just bread and cheese. Harry…might have to buy some animals.

“What do we need?” Harry murmured, sitting on the floor and surrounded by a circle of children as they divided a loaf of bread and a wheel of cheese. There was also a bowl of vegetable soup, one of the few things he could make without burning down the kitchen. It was a testament to how tired everyone was with the bread and cheese that the soup had absolutely no leftovers.

“Clothes,” Lina said, looking at her ratty old shirt. “A place to wash.”

“Food,” Simon piped in.

Harry could go to gardens and get some seedlings, no need to buy things. Some places even had wild vegetables and a good Point Me charm would solve that. He also needed clothes, bed sheets, mattresses and winter clothes - it was getting colder.

The animals though. He could buy them in the muggle world so it would be cheaper, but it would take some money, which he did not have.

“We need to brew,” he sighed. “Who knows how to chop?”

Harry took one week teaching the children different potion techniques.

Slicing, dicing, chopping and their differences were taught. He never realized children had such attention spans. They practiced on vegetables and Harry’s soup making skills were getting better and better.

“Okay, that’s sufficient. Now, we need potion ingredients and a good store to sell our potions afterwards,” he said.

The only store that would accept such shady practices (because you needed a license to brew, which Harry absolutely does not have) would be one in Knockturn Alley.

This time, he placed his foot down. “You’re all staying in the house. Where I’m going is not good for children.”

As one, they all rolled their eyes at him but did not argue.

It took more than a hundred potions before their funds could be sufficient and Harry gained a permanent wrinkle in his forehead from the stress. Being in charge of the health and well-being of more than a dozen little individuals was very stressful, especially if you were an unlicensed time-traveler.

Harry bought two pairs, a male and a female, for each animal. There were pigs, cows and chickens for their produce, which would help immensely for the food problem. He also bought sheep for their wool.

“Flax seeds,” he remarked, looking at his list. “I think I found the solution to the cloth problem.”

Flax seeds were unmagical and could be fast grown and fast harvested. Then, he figured out how to enchant a loom to weave it into bolts of cloth.

“It’s so pretty,” Katy said with awe. “But. Harry, isn’t it a bit boring, to be plain white?”

Harry looked at them all and was encountered with a dozen puppy eyes.

“…Dye’s. A lot of them,” he muttered reluctantly.

He pretended not to see the children exchanging a high-five behind him.

It would be so much easier, Harry realized halfway into transforming his house into a secret place for orphaned and neglected children, if he had someone to work with.

But given that what he was doing was breaking about a hundred laws, he really didn’t want to implicate someone with him.

His kitchen was already a teeming mess of food and soup was always bubbling in the stove, somehow never boiling over and also never running out, no matter how many children ladled out bowls.

His pantry was always expanding, meat and eggs somehow multiplying without his knowledge. And milk was never running out.

His vegetable garden never seemed to run out of produce either, carrots, beans and potatoes always popping out of the ground whenever he needed some.

His cloth room, formerly just housing one lonely loom and one lonely dye area, was having three stations and continually making more bolts of cloth than he knew what to deal with.

Even the Potion’s area was expanding, somehow having fifteen working stations and ten rows of potions cupboards organized alphabetically.

Something was always going on and he was permanently frowning with worry.

Children weren’t supposed to learn how to brew advanced high grade potions at the age of eight, nor were they supposed to know how to cook, clean, do laundry or tend to plants.

But the children he had gotten were all mature beyond their years, scars marking them from the very people who were supposed to love them unconditionally. And they all loved Harry and knew he was doing his best to give them a home.

Harry eventually realized by the time he had fifty children that he needed to set an age limit.

Because if he didn’t, none of the children would ever really leave and then he would be stuck with a hundred of them. He loved them and he knew that the Sanctuary was supposed to be a place to have a childhood.

So he started setting up apprenticeships.

Simon, a budding arithmancer, got an apprenticeship to a wardmaster. Lina with her sewing skills was apprenticed to Madame Malkin. Jessica, the sweet child, was apprenticed to a librarian until she realized what she wanted.

All of the children needed help and he set out and found them work and different houses. And all of them realized this and quietly packed their bags and left.

Harry still kept in contact with them via owls and the occasional visit. And he missed them even if there were always new children coming to him. But he never mourned. Because it was at this time that he started noticing something.

The Sanctuary was starting to gain sentience.

It made some sense, given that once an object was in magical presence long enough and loved enough, they tended to gain a personality.

The Sanctuary had housed a lot of children and all of them loved it in their own way. And all of those children had been magical.

By the time he realized what was harvesting the garden, cleaning the house, unclogging the toilets and keeping the kitchen stocked, he had gone through three generations and there was an unofficial network of people that apprenticed his children without his prompting. People he remembered, children he remembered, all of them growing old, but…he remained the same.

“Circe’s wand, what have I created?” he murmured.

A singularity. He had created a singularity because the children needed him.

Hogwarts, while just as loved, was not a singularity but a nexus. It didn’t exist beyond time like the Sanctuary, but it had a draw to it that made it attractive to everyone. His Sanctuary, on the other hand, existed only to those who needed it.

Harry knew that if he spent decades away from the Sanctuary, he would start to age. The children were immune, the Sanctuary didn’t own them in the way it owned Harry. His blood and his magic went into the house. The children were only guests.

He had accidentally bound himself to a singularity and he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Harry started to have no concept of time.

Oh, he knew the days were passing, and he knew what month it was. But the years passing by he viewed them as just any other day.

He didn’t really need to keep track of holidays, the house decorated itself and nudged him to remember. He only really remembered about the start of term, because all those children needed him for book shopping. Two months before the start of term, he would start a frenzy of brewing just to be able to afford everything.

Thank Merlin that Wizarding Currency hasn’t changed since the Goblin Wars.

All the children that passed, he remembered. The memories might be blurry, but he knew all of them. He kept memory strands for each child, in case his memory ever faltered.

And then Tom Riddle requested Sanctuary and Harry became acutely aware of the passing of time.

Cute, teenage dark lords with wounded, angry eyes and a desperate need for praise.

Cute, teenage dark lords, who looked at the Sanctuary and seemed not to understand the age limit.

Cute, teenage dark lords, who wanted to stay forever.

Harry would bang his head on the wall if the House would allow it.

When he’d accidentally travelled back in time, he had a plan.

Buy a house, keep quiet and don’t make any trouble.

Looking up at the deceptively small house, he knew that plan was thrown out the window since the first child looked up at him and tugged at his cloak.

“Harry!” called a young, high voice. “Harry, I already rang the dinner bell, didn’t you hear?”

“I’m coming!” he yelled back, pausing briefly to pluck an apple tree that he’s sure he did not plant there.

The Sanctuary was sentient and it had absolutely no qualms in growing how it wanted, asking no input from Harry.

This was not in his plans, but he had no complaints.

#fanfiction #harry potter #tom riddle #sequel to the Sanctuary and the Bar #time travel #my writing #hp #hp post

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soulmate-game · 4 years

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Hey, I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your fic where marinette is adopted by the Kent's. It is by far one of my favorite things I have ever read. I love how you have built the relationship between marinette and the kents. The reveal of her powers was especially fun to read. I was curious, what made you think of the idea in the first place? I know there are a lot of marinette biodad aus and such. So I was wondering what made you think of and go with the idea that you did?

Well, I think it’s just my passion for storytelling really. Bio dad AUs are great, but I don’t wanna write the same story as someone else. The Clark Kent bio!dad stories that are already out are beautifully done, and I don’t wanna write something that might take away attention from them, especially if I don’t have a way to make my own version unique. I wait to write longer stories until I get an idea where I feel “Yeah, this is different. I can write this in a way people would like to read,” and usually it starts with just one scene.

For Marinette Kent, it started with the question; Why the hell would the Miracuclass go to Gotham? It sucks, there’s ton of crime, only WE is really an attracting factor. Plus, Insurance hell anyone?

But Metropolis? Hell yeah, they’d jump on the chance to go to the home of SuperMan himself. Safe, sunny, lots to see especially when you have a reporter and superhero enthusiast in your class. But SuperMan also deals with a LOT of collateral damage, I mean his villains have to be scaled to his abilities to save people right? So what if it was just another day. Another villain. Another bit of collateral damage that one or two people cannot be expected to be constantly aware of, regardless of how strong or omniscient they might seem. But even the smallest mistake, the smallest second of inattention in a fight that scaled up, can cause disaster to fragile human bodies. And no stupid spin-the-world-around crap, that would kill us all.

So the heroes make a mistake. Because they’re only people. And Marinette understands, because she too is a hero and a normal person. That’s where the opening scene to the story came from, and I couldn’t stop building the story in my head after that. The thing that separates oneshots and multi-chapter stories for me is how often they invade my brain. Most times, I’m able to write a story down and it just sits there on the screen like that’s the home it was always supposed to have, and that’s it. No more thoughts of, “well, this would happen next,” popping up in my brain at random points in the day. No more, “Oh, he’d totally say that,” while I’m washing dishes at work. But the longer stories never stop building. It’s like laying down a road— the parts I finish writing cement themselves, and I can look back and feel like “Yeah, that’s it. That’s how it’s supposed to look, but it’s not done yet. There’s something missing.” And af every possible moment, even when I haven’t even entertained the barest thought of the fandom/story in a while, a random next scene will pop up in my brain to fill in the next part of the story. A line of dialogue will start up in my head, and build into a conversation that begs to be written down. That happened with Soulmate Game, and it happened with Marinette Kent too.

I just imagined the Kent’s being unable to leave Marinette alone without assuring she had family. And, when they came up disappointed, they decided to solve the problem themselves. And then I had random scenes of Jon trying to be a good big sibling just crop up randomly in my head, I even felt Marinette’s breakdowns a few times. Not as if they were my own of course, but as if the emotions were right there next to me, ready to grab and slam onto a piece of paper. I always feel that kind of strange, living bond to characters I write. If I don’t feel that bond, I never end up satisfied with how I write that character. So really,

Tl;dr; I write my stories based on the emotions and imagery that pops into my head. A seedling of an idea just naturally grows. In this case, the a absurdity of a class going to Gotham voluntarily grew into a sunflower that you all seem to love, and I couldn’t be happier.

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #platonic jonette #jon kent and marinette

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dearmrsawyer · 3 years

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well IT WAS A YEAR. it was also emotionally two weeks and five years? lol. its been a lot, but there were some real positives from this year that i wanna reflect on just because! they’re nice to think about!!

i’d love to know if any of you have any positive things from your year that you’d like to reflect on. accepting asks where we can celebrate your little wins too :)

in general i’m just quite proud of myself for how i’ve managed the library this year, given that its just me. its been hard feeling more disconnected from our students, and also trying to provide them with support that can reach across the void created by distance learning. it wasn’t 100% successful all the time! but it can’t be, and i never aimed for that. i just did everything that i felt i could reasonably do as a single individual, and i think i did my best! i spent a lot of this year driving out to post books to our students, or meeting them at convenient locations to do book swaps, and i’ve spent a lot of time coaching academics through online systems over zoom so that they could effectively teach their subjects, and i’ve spent a lot of nights and weekends prepping materials that needed to be made available to students ahead of class, because our academic staff weren’t able to finish them while i was still on the clock (i’m def not trying to @ our academics here! they’ve been delivering material late all year bc of how much extra work they’ve had to take on too! its just the roll on effect bc i’m the last link in the chain). i’ve felt a huge sense of camaraderie with many of my colleagues this year, and am grateful i had them to make this work year more manageable. but i know i’ve been doing a lot of hidden work and i think i did well :)

oh man i loved turning off my wake up alarm in march and never turning it on again!!!! I think i can count the number of times i’ve had to use my alarm on one hand, and they were mostly dr appointments. it feels so comfortable to wake up when my body decides, whether its 6am or after i should already be working LOL. there have definitely been ebbs and flows to how well i’ve slept throughout the year, sometimes i know exactly what’s affecting my sleep and sometimes i have no idea, but regardless, the absence of an impending alarm has been such a nice way to compensate for.. everything else lol

i started growing vegetables!!!!!! I spent a week in March digging out a patch of my yard, and then the next month or two growing seedlings, and i successfully grew snow peas, silverbeet, beetroot and lettuce :D i also added dill to my herb garden, and successfully propagated thyme and lemongrass! i did attempt a few other vegetables that didn’t pan out, mostly because snails kept eating my seedlings jkjdgkj but it was so exciting to successfully grow something that i could then EAT! and i’ve also been able to figure out which vegetables i consider more convenient to grow, for example buying leafy greens can be super inconvenient bc i find its often impossible to use them all before they go bad. they sell greens in such ridiculously large bunches! but growing them myself, i can go out and pick however many leaves i want, and the rest won’t go bad because they’re still on the plant! i also started to stagger how many seeds i wanted to grow which meant they weren’t all maturing at the same time, and i didn’t need to use them all at the same time.

Supernatural finished this year which was NOT a highlight 😭 but it was originally scheduled to finish in May, and i was given the gift of 6 whole extra months to live with this show as a work in progress. as much as i still wasn’t ready to say goodbye in November (would i have ever been ready), i was given so much unexpected extra time to appreciate being IN it while it was still going. i spent so much of this year reflecting on how big a part of my life this show has been, and how much its given me and shaped me. from the ages of 14 to 29 i was able to live with this show as a close friend, and i’ve never taken that for granted, but i am so thankful for the extra time i was given to reflect and appreciate it even more deeply. also supplementary highlight is how much that ending meant to me <3 the world can think whatever it wants but i was on that journey for 15 years, i was there for every episode, never falling behind or taking a break, and that ending honoured the story i watched, and i am very grateful that the pain of it ending was cushioned by the sense of peace and fulfilment that ending gave me.

i finally found hair products that WORK!!!!! i’ve had the same hair routine for like a decade (basically sans products) and i thought i should use this extended period of time where i exist unobserved to experiment. i’ve never really bought hair products for myself, i’ve always inherited them from my mum bc she always had a surplus of products she’s collected over the years. our hair couldn’t be more different so i’ve never experienced a product that was particularly effective LOL. i have v dry hair that’s naturally curly/wavy but extremely frizzy, and i have soo much of it!! so many hairs on my head! my mission was to find a way to let it dry naturally without all that frizz popping up, and without having to dry it in two big twists. the only products directed at curly hair that i’ve ever been aware of is mousse, which used to give people that crunchy look that i can’t staaaaaand but i’ve spent a few months buying quite a lot of products and testing them out one after another, and i’ve found a couple that i absolutely LOVE!! this is big for me bc i always structured my week around when i wash my hair (the day of and day after i’m unavailable lol). i’ll still have to structure my time around it somewhat bc it takes so so long to dry, but its going to be less of a drama if i have to do things when its not completely dry yet, and also i just feel like i’m finally getting to let my hair do its own thing without it stabbing me in the back 😂

i think that human connection has probably been more important this year than ever before, and i’ve often felt like maintaining connections requires energy i just haven’t had for a lot of this year. but i also feel like i have been very connected? i feel like i put in the work. my best friend and i shared a few phone calls this year even though neither of us have ever really been big on phone calls (neither of us have ever talked with people on the phone much in our lives lol). i’ve skyped with my Norwegian friend Ellen almost every month this year!! my friend Bel and i started exchanging sporadic voice messages again, which i’ve just loved. i’ve video chatted with Steph even though it was a scary new venture! and it was so amazing! i do feel like i’ve had less interaction with people on my dash this year, but i feel like working from home has changed the ebbs and flows of my energy throughout the day sooo much, and i just haven’t been online as much when other people are, but i’ve spent a lot of time connecting with people over whatsapp! when it comes to family, being around my grandparents was really really stressful for the first half of the year, but as the situation in Australia eased we relaxed enough that we were comfortable to spend time with them without our masks (plus we weren’t seeing anyone else lol). and i was able to make myself available to them more often while working from home, since i live only a minute away! we stopped having our big family lunches until September, and when we were finally able to get back together we enjoyed each other’s company so much. so while i haven’t been face to face with people on a daily basis, i don’t think i’m any less connected to the people that matter than i was a year ago.

#not thinking about next year yet! i'll probably do that in a few weeks towards the end of my holiday #tp

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genvieve-of-the-wood · 4 years

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Please Don’t Shop Today or Even This Weekend

So many reasons....

So many.

I worked retail for years. Not always by choice. Sometimes we do what we must to take care of our families. What I hated most was how so many workers were treated, including me. I didn’t expect rainbows and warm fuzzies and neighborly conversation in my job. But I expected civility, respect and goddamn it- some fucking common sense. As the years wore on, I was amazed at the level of rudeness, entitlement and lack of logic in customers. Many were just fine, some even lovely and wonderful people. But some- I wondered who lived with you and did they know what a miserable shitweasel you were to those trying to actually do a good job of customer service. In the end, I was convinced there are people who get off trying to make others miserable in service and hospitality. Are there terrible employees in these industries? Of course there are, just like you have in any profession. But most are just trying to do what they must. Please, if you see douchebaggery to anyone in service, call it out. If you can, avoid the shitty sales that are bait and switch for many retailers. They will have deals after Black Friday, they always do. You are being set up to be manipulated. If you think it’s a limited product, do your homework and just stop expecting magical elves to produce what you want from “ the back” of the store. If it’s gone, don’t give anyone shit about it.. except the MARKETING department of that establishment that didn’t advertise limited quantities. The workers are carrying out corporate demands and if you don’t get your free worth less than a quarter pop culture item that is given to the first 100 shoppers don’t act like a toddler. Don’t yell at random people who don’t make the decisions to run a promotion just to get your bored ass in the door. And don’t tolerate people who act like this. Be kind but do not put up with shitty behavior.

Think.

Think about who, what, why and how you buy your gifts and items.

WHY am I standing in line for a free tote bag and I have NO idea why I bought this thing to get said tote bag...

Who is this for, me, my loved one, a co-worker, my neighbor, etc? Why would I buy THIS for them and is it worth it? Can’t this item wait? Did I put any thought into WHO I am buying for?

HOW will I give them this gift? Am I able to mail this? Can I wrap this or transport it? Will they know HOW to use this once they have it?

WHAT the hell is this thing anyway? What exactly am I buying? Is it worth fighting a crowd to get it? Is it crap? Some people are so happy with just a simple gift card, cash.

STOP just buying shit because someone made a fuss and advertised it on YouTube, television, streaming, newspapers, etc. Calm the fuck DOWN. Make rational decisions about how you want to give a gift and celebrate a holiday.

When the culture of commerce becomes more thoughtful, so do the interactions between buyer and seller. ***If you MUST buy, instead of make a gift, grow a gift, donate a gift, hell- BE a GIFT to someone, please do so with the idea that you can make this a mindful experience, not a capitalist orgy of sticking your card number in numerous places without really knowing why for a fleeting promise of satisfaction.

Local businesses have it very, very rough this year. If they didn’t qualify for government help, if they are still standing, they are not being held up by much. If you can, order online if they have a site or go when it’s not in this frenzy mode. Some of the best gifts I ever found were in farmers’s markets, individual artisans and creators’ pop ups, or just a few miles from my front door from a local small business.

And some of the best gifts I’ve received and given were not for Christmas, Yule, Hanukkah, Valentine’s, Easter or even my birthday- they were JUST BECAUSE I thought of you and why you would love, need or really like this on this random day of the calendar.

*** If you are at home due to quarantine and so are loved ones, if you aren’t having gifts shipped from stores, sites, etc- donate to a charity or cause they love, support or are passionate about. Make a video and get creative and silly. Start seedlings now of plants you can grow indoors or make cuttings of houseplants and send pics of their growth and give when you see them again. Tending a plant for a loved one has made me a better gardener. Give your TIME to someone who is cut off- make a Zoom, FaceTime, etc and just play music, watch a movie, share pics and memories, etc. Do a chore outside weather permitting, for someone who can’t get to it. Read a story to a young one with pictures online if you can’t be with them. Buy pantry items for a meal you know someone likes to make and eat (give them a heads up text first if it’s being delivered so they won’t miss it.) The best gifts are just random bursts of thoughtfulness that can happen any day.

It would be nice to make Black Friday just fade away and not put essential workers through it anymore. Until then, please...pause before you purchase. Don’t feed the idea that THIS weekend is the end all be all of obtaining gifts. Even online. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BUY ANYTHING TODAY!

#spilled ink #writerscreed #spilled thoughts #buy nothing #be thoughtful #genvieve-of-the-wood

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atomicsuperhero · 3 years

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What You Need To Start Your Garden From Seeds This Year

If you started gardening last year, you might have noticed that it was hard to come by some plants as the gardening industry experienced a massive uptick in popularity. You might have also realized that starting a vegetable garden with bedding plants from a garden center can turn into a fairly pricey task.

I fully support independent garden centers, I think the prices they sell plants for are fair considering what goes into it, especially somewhere like Alberta. But, I also understand that dropping hundreds of dollars on plants every spring is not affordable for many people, myself included.

The bonus is, you can plan and start your garden from seed for a lot less money, and it's not as difficult as you might think. A pack of seeds will run you $3-7, depending on how specialized or fancy of seeds you choose. Rarer plants or organic seeds can cost quite a bit more, but the value is still pretty phenomenal. For that $3-4 pack of seeds, you can get upwards of 50 or 100 plants in some packs, instead of just one in a bedding plant.

I’ll include the essential elements you need to start your garden from seed this year, and I’ll also list some of the nice to haves, but non-essentials.

The bare minimum seed starting supplies you need is:

Seeds

Planting containers

Starting soil mix

Light

Watering device

Additional nice to haves

Seed starting trays and containers

Dome covers for your trays

Growing lights

Seedling heat mat

Fine rose watering can

Timers for your lights

Heirloom or organic seeds

The Bare Basics For Seed Starting

The bare minimum is seeds, something to grow them in, and a container, and light. This can be as simple as a pack of seeds from Canadian Tire or the dollar store, some dirt to grow them in, and a leftover plastic tray from fresh veggies.

There are a few things to be careful of when starting seeds, though.

While you can grow seeds in lots of different things, from paper towel to the tiniest bit of dust in a sidewalk crack, it's not a great idea to start seeds in your home with dirt from your garden or flowerbeds. It’s best to use a specialized seed starting mix.

The reason is that seeds need a very humid environment to start. So, you usually keep a lid, cracked open a little bit, over them. With ordinary potting soil or garden soil, this can encourage mold or bacteria that isn’t great for your seedlings.

Seed starting mix is sterilized, so it should have no existing bacteria or mold sports of any kind in it. You don’t’ have to get expensive soil, but try to get seed starting mix if you can. If you are leery about buying cheap soil, you can sterilize the soil yourself when you bring it home. There are many gardeners who sterilize their soil when they bring it home by baking it in the oven to kill off any organisms in the soil. You’ll have to google how to do that because I haven’t done it yet, so I cannot tell you how.

How to Start Your Seeds

Put a few inches of dirt into your containers, but don’t fill them too full. You don’t want the soil or seeds to wash out over the sides when you water.

Plant your seeds according to package directions. Make sure to actually read the directions before you start. Some seeds want to be covered by soil, and some want to be sprinkled on top. Some need to germinate with bright light, and some want to germinate in darkness, like pansies, which I’m never growing from seed again (at least until next year).

If you’re using an old take out container or a plastic produce container, make sure you poke a few holes in the bottom to allow for drainage. We want seedlings to have a humid environment but not to be soaked in water all the time. Set the container on a tray to catch excess water that leaks out. Keep the lid for your container, and set it on the top, but don’t close it tight.

How to Water Your Seedlings

For watering, I recommend getting an old pop bottle. Something about 500 ml is easy to handle. Heat up the end of a pin or a needle over a candle flame, and poke 5-7 tiny holes in the lid of the pop bottle. Wash it thoroughly, and then fill it with water and put the lid back on.

This will allow you to gently water your seedlings without washing them away or damaging the seeds. Set your tray in a sunny windowsill, and once your seedlings come up, get a lamp and aim it directly at the seedlings, at fairly close range, like 2-3 inches above the leaves.

Seed Starting Nice To Haves

If you have a little more budget to play with, you can add a few more things to your seed starting arsenal that can make the process a little easier and may make it possible to grow quite a bit more.

Seed starting trays and planting cells are super handy for starting your garden from seed. The trays allow you to hold all your trays of seedling containers in one place and usually have a clear plastic dome lid to provide the humid environment that seeds need.

A seed starting heat mat underneath your trays can help you achieve the ideal temperature that some seeds need for germination, which should improve your germination rates.

Grow lights make it much easier to grow strong and small plants. Without grow lights, seedlings can get leggy and weak. Some plants can be pinched back to encourage bushier growth, but either way, it's better if your seedlings don’t get tall and weak, reaching for the light.

Timers for your lights takes away the hassle of having to turn your lights off and on every day. The timers will turn your lights on early in the morning and turn it off late at night, and you never have to remember.

Heirloom or organic seeds are more expensive, but you may have better germination rates with them than you do with very cheap seeds. With some veggies and flowers, it doesn’t really matter. Dollar store sunflowers are probably going to grow just as well as organic ones, same with sweet peas or petunias.

It's handy to have a watering can with a very fine rose on the tip for watering seedlings, or you can make your own out of an old pop bottle, as I mentioned above.

We’ve just ordered our seeds for this year, in spite of not knowing if we’ll be here for the entire growing season or not. So in the blog, in just a couple of days, my next blog about how and where to order seeds from will go up.

Are you starting your garden from seed this year? Let me know in the comments, or tag me on your social media posts, @PlantLadyBriana; I’d love to see what you’re growing this year!

p.s. have you signed up for my weekly newsletter yet? It's a bit of mental health and gardening, and current events. You can sign up here!

#gardening #garden planning #seed starting

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monkey-network · 4 years

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My Issues with Butch Hartman

Call this the sequel to my post on Mr. Enter. But honestly compared to Enter, Butch Hartman has made himself look far worse in so little time. Not only with how he uses his influence, but he basically showed his true colors not long after he left Nickelodeon. With Enter, the worst you can say about him is his opinions on media and his politics. With Hartman, there is a surprisingly lot more under his belt that made the hate towards him .

To preface this, while I’m gonna shit on this dude, I’m not shaming anyone who still likes his past content. With that said, bibbity Boppity boopity. Let’s look at the fucking scoopity.

The Telltale Oaxis

This really takes the cake as the scummiest thing Butch has done. Words and opinions can be one thing, but using your platform to basically trick some people out of their money for a project you abandoned for the most part grinds me gears a lot more. As bad as his marketing strategy was, at least Enter provided effort in his indiegogo project beforehand for god’s sake. Oaxis is one of the most pitiable crowdfunded projects I’ve seen.

It’s nearly two years since Butch got Oaxis funded and what have gotten beyond pure dead silence. Nearly two years and little to no significant updates for Oaxis’s Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, his Youtube, or the site’s official account. No wait, that last part’s kind of a lie. They had monthly updates on the official site up until September 2019. Could’ve posted this on their social medias but you take what you can get.

The major takeaway from the updates, in all fairness, was that the kickstarter wasn’t enough and they still need to raise more funds for the service. The “capital-building” stage he calls it where he’s looking for more investors in addition to getting actual programs onto the service. That and Oaxis is a big vision for Butch and his wife in spite of not only giving up the monthly updates and basically secluding any mention of Oaxis from any place else. That’s basically it and I legit feel sorry for everyone that couldn’t get their refund back.

This isn’t HBO Max or Disney+ where you just expect them to have something together after their initial announcement because they’re already media conglomerates, this is an independent project. One that people, your fans included Butch, put over 200K thinking you would at least give people something. But beyond a “sizzle reel” that said nothing aside from Oaxis going to be a thing, you have presented jack after two years. I don’t expect the ins and outs of every business meeting with executives, but staying silent about everything except for monthly newsletters that offer very little encouraging progress and hasn’t updated since September of last year is not a good sign. And I’m especially hard on this topic, Butch, because this is the biggest point where it is seriously hard to trust you. It’s not criticizing your ego when after having too many cracks in your story, you really haven’t put your money where your mouth is.

I don’t wanna presume the guy’s given up on it, hoping everybody would forget it after a while, but he’s really put the effort in to make Oaxis feel like a afterthought. I’m not an expert in business, but even I can believe that after his non-apology for not being upfront with his initial intentions, that he’d try to provide updates on the project to not come off as the scam artist people have accused him as. Even with his Youtube channel that I’ll get to later, I don’t think it’s hard consistently posting about your so called vision if you have that much faith in its success. You’ve already gotten thousands of bucks initially with the crowdfund, people deserve more than your pitiful wishful platitudes and I unfortunately can’t believe you’ll have anything after a few years. It’s not that everyone forgot about it, but you mostly took the money and ran. If Butch pops up with something if he sees this somehow, I’ll eat that crow, but I sincerely doubt it after this long. Like at least post something on the Twitter, I get depressed just looking at it; that account is the textbook definition of famine.

The Childhood Reposter

I’ve brought up Butch’s youtube channel a couple times, and it’s when every time I look at it, it’s a little sad. When it comes to major creators, I typically think that after finishing their projects they’d move to newer things. People like Lauren Faust, Mike Judge, CH Greenblatt are all continuing to make new works under differing studios while new creators are getting the spotlight. Butch though? I mean, he has a new cartoon that I swear you’ve never heard about but other than that, the dude looks like he has little to say for himself nowadays beyond the 2 shows he’s famous for, Fairly Odd Parents and Danny Phantom. I would’ve added TUFF Puppy and Bunsen is a Beast but I can see that those two aren’t his major players seeing as how they’re rarely ever mentioned on the channel.

If it’s not some watchmojo level meme video, almost every other video is about either two of those shows in some varied fashion. I get that he “created your childhood” and made credulous bank from Nickelodeon, but it’s like Danny Phantom is all that stands between him and having an audience. That and drawing anime characters in his style which is... y’know, I’ll leave that to you. It’s like he retired and yet goes on about the good old days like a fluctuating ego. He’s still making a cartoon but to him that’s hardly a factor compared to his known successes.

Personally, I wouldn’t want to just be known as the guy who made two of your countless beloved cartoons. Not that that’s all he talks about, but it’s the insistence of his legacy that unfortunately gives me Bojack Horseman vibes. He no doubt has a good thing going but I believe that this isn’t gonna last. Just saying, dude has 850K subscribers and unless it’s a real hook like with the recent Danny Phantom/Jake Long death battle, he’s hardly getting a good fraction of views anymore. There’s only so many times you can milk Danny Phantom as your masterpiece before everyone moves on.

The Holy Boast

I wanna make this short because I’m not a huge talker of religion, but I stand to say that you should NOT, under any circumstance, believe BPD, PTSD, autism, fucking heart & kidney failure can be “cured” or “healed” through sermons of prayer. This here? This is genuinely something else.

https://www.healingjourneys.today/

For clarity, this was a gospel conference hosted by Butch and his wife and yes, they openly proclaim that BPD, austism, and heart disease can be cured through prayer of holy worship.

Now, I’m gonna give a full disclosure right here because this most certainly biases my point here, like I’m gonna own this. But my grandpa was a religious man that suffer from health problems. He notably prayed to carry on, yes, but at the same time he sought medical help. Even he told me that prayers wasn’t gonna keep the pacemaker going, he went to the doctors and actually did more than read the bible to improve himself. He unfortunately passed, but he was in his 70s and I honestly couldn’t believe, as hard as I try, that he was gonna live forever. My grandpa would’ve no doubt died far earlier if he followed this conference’s logic.

My point is that this is personally unsettling. I seriously cannot believe this is how autism and religion works and it blows my mind that him and his wife thought this conference was a suitable idea. I’m not bashing them as christians, but thinking mental disorders and bodily diseases can be done away with motivational seminars because that’s basically what they are is a legit slap to the face. And the seedling idea that they’ve done this before blows my mind.

The Financial Flaker

This is very recent and everything is generally explained in the 12 minute video but long story short: Butch hired an artist and never paid them for their work. The artist in question, Kuro, describes what happened between him and Butch in this video and provides receipts. Can’t really add anything to this myself beyond this just builds to the idea that Butch cannot be trusted as a professional business maker. I believe he still has people working for him but from this video, it tells me that Hartman will gladly use those lower than him in favorable pursuits and will gladly throw ignorance when he wants to because his cartoon veteran status presents that shield from thinking he can do no wrong, which can mean throttling his hires. Let’s end this.

youtube

The Conclusion

When I get down to it, Butch is almost a Machiavellian character in a way. It’s amazing how much the trust people have had with Hartman have evaporated in less than a couple years. It’s amazing how much his ego has truly shown after he stopped being a namestay in Nickelodeon. Haven’t even mentioned the times he arrogantly deflected criticism because he was a namestay at Nick and how a couple who’ve worked with are well aware of his ego. I can’t help but believe that even after everything, he claims ignorance to his fall from grace and keeps going. Even when more and more are knowing his true self, he’s mostly just doing what he’s been doing for the past few years.

It’s respectable in a way, but shows that the world will move on without him. Again, if you like Danny Phantom and Fairly OddParents, I won’t judge you for it nor say you should be ashamed. This isn’t about cancelling Butch, or get him to stop spreading whatever wacky things he believes in. It’s my personal take of how this man whom I once respected because of what he made before has lost every bit of that from me. It really feels like he grew up with that “I Created Your Childhood” mentality being a 4 time showrunner for almost a couple decades. And when he finally left Nickelodeon, I guess the chance to be that stand out self-made success got to his head and he finally showed his true colors. I now find it hard to believe Butch cares about the little guy that were his fans as much as he rides off his success and others who tolerate him. As such, like JK Rowling, more are seeing this side of him and leaving him behind. Meanwhile Butch is gonna chug on until he just loses steam. It’s kinda like Icarus where the guy will make every effort to fly to the sun. But sooner or later, he’s gonna fall, and in the end I doubt anyone’s gonna care to see it. I know he won’t.

#butch hartman #nickelodeon #animation #long post #sorry for the rant n bant

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licenselesswriter · 3 years

Note

🌱 Seedling: 🥛 Milk: 🍯 Honey: 🍄 Mushroom: 🐄 Cow: 🌳 Tree: 🌻 Sunflower: 🐓 Chicken: 🧵 Thread:🐈 Cat: 🍅 Tomato: 🐝 Bee: 🍞 Bread: 🐇 Bunny: 🌲 Pine: 🐑 Sheep: 🍓 Strawberry: 🥞 Pancake:🧸 Mountains: 🧸 Teddy Bear:

🌱 Seedling: What is something you want to begin learning? Magic, I want to, pardon me, I need to learn to do card tricks because those are the best thing 😂😂😂

🥛 Milk: What is a food you find comforting when you are sad? Chicken noodle soup, the only soup I can eat even in the hell hole we call summer.

🍯 Honey: What is one thing you like about yourself? My hair, my damn hair comes with an auto-arrange function, so I wake up looking like a zombie, my hair wakes up looking like Ryan Gosling

🍄 Mushroom: What is a quote you find comfort in? My past is not a memory. It's a force at my back. It pushes and steers. I may not always like where it leads me, but like any story, the past needs resolution. What's past is prologue. Metroid: Other M

🐄 Cow: What is one other Tumblr blog you really appreciate? Good question, I’m gonna say my favorites are, @nonaaee @hellophantoms @writtenwolves

🌳 Tree: What is one thing in your future you are looking forward to? Probably The Boys season 3, I learn to be grateful for the things destiny throws at me.

🌻 Sunflower: What is one thing that brightened your day today? MY GOD DAMN NEW HEADSET, FUCK YEAH BABY 🤘🤘🤘

🐓 Chicken: What is a comfort movie/show for you? Movies: 21 Jump Street, 22 Jump Street, Chef, Hairspray, Jackass the Movie 2, and always and forever, The Boat that Rocked. Shows: Single Parents, Girl Meets World, The Office, Ballroom e Youkoso, Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares

🧵 Thread: What is a recent creative project that you are proud of? Ten Duel Commandments, no idea what hell I did in life to come with an idea like that based on a song that has nothing to do with the plot but it makes sense anyway, so, I'm damn proud of my WIP baby LOL.

🐈 Cat: Do you have any pets? Are there some pets you really want? I do have a pet, It's a cat, and his name is Coshino, not in the Japanese way, like Koshino, the Slam Dunk character, but in the colloquial Chilean way to say Cochino (Dirty), and for the moment, I'm good this cat, he's a complete asshole and drops my things but I love him 😂😂😂

🍅 Tomato: Have you ever gardened, and if so, what is your favorite thing to grow? Hell yes, I wanted to have a farm when I was a kid (Which lead to my obsession with the Harvest Moon games), I love to grow cherries, tomatoes, and raspberries.

🐝 Bee: What is a video game that you find comforting? Harvest "I finally have a farm and I'm able to live the life" Moon. also Astroneer.

🍞 Bread: Do you know how to bake bread? If so, what is something you’ve baked recently? Yeah, in fact, I'm better at baking than cooking, and the last thing I baked was yesterday's lunch, I made "Pastel de Papa" which is a delicious dish I love.

🐇 Bunny: What’s a song that you really like? Well, now that I have a new headset, there is a song I've been listening to non-stop (and dancing to it too, because of cooking) and that's the Glee version of "I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You" which is a real banger.

🌲 Pine: Do you prefer the cold or the heat? The cold, I'm a full blood Stark.

🧶 Yarn: Knitting or Crocheting? I have no idea how to do any of those things.

🐑 Sheep: What is a comfort item you own? My silver age All Might funko pop, the smile on that funko always makes me think "Watashi Ga Kitta!!" (I'm Here!!) and that makes me happy.

🍓 Strawberry: Do you own any pink clothing? I do, I have a bright pink dress shirt (because it looks amazing with my blue suit), and a Palermo FC pink shirt.

🥞 Pancake: What is your favorite breakfast food? Bread, with ham and mashed avocado with a few drops of lemon, and a pinch of salt and pepper.

⛰️ Mountains: Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest? Forest, I like the smell of the forest.

🧸 Teddy Bear: Do you ever want to raise kids someday? Hell yeah (so if I ever die with a WIP not finished, they can continue my journey 😂😂😂)

#Licenseless Answers

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spirit-of-the-void · 5 years

Text

Gunpowder and Flower Petals (Dante x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 3

Author’s Notes: I formally apologize for the long hiatus everyone. I was depressed and anxious after having some doubts in my writing, and then got roped into a long commission....I’ll do my best to keep this updated

A huge thanks to @meliapis for making the new cover picture for this story!

Chapter 3

~Calloused Palms and Delicate fingers~

Opening the shop in the morning went on as usual.

You woke up bright and early, getting in a shower and some toast for breakfast before bouncing cheerfully downstairs. Unlike the previous morning, Clover followed each footstep, black tail flicking back and forth as she searched out a nice patch of sunlight to lounge in. Meanwhile, you breezed through each task with ease, pleased to find all the previous day’s seedlings fully grown and ready for trimming. Magic made quick work of those, your mouth babbling forth cheerful praises and kind words to the new bulbs and buds as more were planted in the place of others. A cycle, one that came and went every day without fail. Going smooth enough that there was time to spare, leaving you free to tidy up the front shop and loosely braid your hair. Soft, delicate--peppered with mini carnations and tiny clovers, in honor of your lovely familiar soaking in the morning sun on her belly fur.

You giggled when the cat blinked slowly at you, whiskers glowing with bright light as the shop door was unlocked and sign flipped to “open”. Customers usually wouldn’t come in for another half hour or so, but that was fine. Mondays were generally slow anyway, so you didn’t expect many people to stop by minus the occasional regular or newbie looking for a last minute gift. After ten o’clock, there would be no other orders either, only one being scheduled for a restaurant to pick up some time after nine. Various assortments, mostly lilies. You looked at Clover, realizing this was probably why the cat was more comfortable hanging around the shop that day. Low amounts of people, lots of sun, plenty of time to get attention from their owner. Typical. You shook your head, causing a few stray petals to flutter out onto the floor.

Since the morning was slow, you attempted different tasks to keep yourself busy and distracted from wandering thoughts. Yesterday was flower crowns, today was grinding roots and leaves into salves. They were sold on the side as natural remedies, and they definitely worked for their intended purposes. Balms to soothe pain, powder to sprinkle on a pillow to aid sleep, cream to help with dry skin. It was one of the few things your mother managed to pass along before she died, your mind awash with memories of those times. Her smile, showing you just how to use a mortar and pestle while lightly channeling magic. It was cathartic, a walk down memory lane and a reason to smile.

Thinking of her always made flowers bloom in your hair.

By the time that restaurant came to pick up their order there was quite a few buds in your silken locks. They didn’t comment on it, seeming to be in a bit of a hurry as the boxes of flowers were loaded into their truck quickly and efficiently. Papers signed, payment given, customers on their merry way in a matter of minutes. You both preferred it this way and felt a twinge of disappointment--it was nice to have things done and ready at a fast pace. Satisfying even. But once they were gone you were left in the shop by yourself, minus Clover sleeping soundly in a patch of sun as it warmed the fur on her belly. Mondays were oddly lonely, leaving you to drift around the shop repeating small tasks over and over in an attempt to stave off boredom. Trim the roses, arrange bouquets, praise seedlings, make flower crowns--it left your thoughts free to drift in and out of focus, only snapping back when the occasional customer popped in for some flowers.

It was normal. But wasn’t normal was the new addition to your thoughts--Dante.

How could you stop yourself from thinking about him? You sighed softly, fingers playing with the locket resting on your chest as his face kept making an appearance. Maybe you were just easily swayed by ruggedly handsome men? His white hair, slightly unshaven face and soft eyes...Ah, there it was again. The lonely feeling was worse today because each moment passed with you hoping the mysterious man might return. Maybe you were reading too many romantic books, head spinning webs and stories where none belonged. A handsome stranger comes into your shop, rough around the edges and seeming to carry a deep sadness...what a love story that would make! Problem was that your wistful mind kept hoping so desperately that it was yours.

“I’m losing my mind, Clover,” You mumbled to the cat, who most certainly wasn’t listening, “Maybe Mrs. Davenport was right--I need to get out of the shop sometimes.”

Clover gave no indication that she had heard other than a flick of her ear, eyes still closed and fur shiny in the sun. You sigh, head resting on your hands as you watched that same sunlight make dancing patterns on the walls every time a car passed. These feelings of attraction came with a strange guilt, one you wanted to shake. How rude was it to daydream about someone who simply came in to get their roses? To convince yourself that there was more to the encounter? He did ask me out to coffee, didn’t he? You tried to reason through the doubts with that, but maybe he could have meant it in a friendly manner? Overthinking again, panicking, mind left to wander in the quiet calm of a monday morning. You let out a light groan, a scattered pile of petals falling from your curls with the spike of stress. Too many maybes, there to make you regret not setting up a day more.

What were you going to do?

“Clover,” You practically whined, head now resting on the counter as you stared at the wall in a daze, “If only you could speak...I need someone to tell me what an idiot I’m being.”

The cat didn’t like you berating yourself. This caused the furry creature to blink her eyes open, glaring at you from the floor before she stretched and sprung to her feet. She was on the counter moments later, one paw firmly pressed to your forehead in a sign of disapproval. Message received loud and clear--she didn’t like you calling yourself an idiot.

“Sorry sorry…” You mumble, making a face when she rubbed her fur all over your poor nose. Thank god you weren't allergic.

Regardless, Clover settled down nearby on the counter edge, staring with round eyes while her tail flicked back and forth. You knew she wanted to help, but there wasn’t much a cat could do in a situation like this. To offer even that silent support was more than you had for a long time, already used to not having friends after going through school alone. Children and teenagers strayed away from the strange and unusual, and you had a reputation for yourself early on. That girl is strange, I heard she can grow flowers in her hair--What if she collects animal skulls in her spare time? Does she do blood rituals? Can she curse us if we do something wrong? Witch rumors spread fast, so you kept that to yourself for a long time. No friends, no relationships ...just the flowers, and focusing on the skills your mother left behind.

Maybe that was why the idea of going on a date was so exciting, so...nerve wracking.

You just didn’t want to be alone anymore. The Davenports were lovely, but their new home was an hour drive away. They didn’t want to be close to a city after the Redgrave incident a while back, which you could fully understand. Both stopped by whenever they could manage, and you to them, but...those times between left a lasting effect. It felt so selfish to want more after all the wonderful things you had been given, but...was it so wrong to want companionship? You had gotten lucky, raised by two wonderful human beings who didn’t have to help you, but chose to anyway. They took your mother’s role seriously, buying books on witchcraft and being supportive in any way they could after the incident at school...The Davenports gave so much, and you would never forget that.

You would be fine. You just needed to get past these lonelier days.

So lost in your drifting thoughts, you didn’t notice someone pass by the open store front at all, not even when Clover’s eyes flickered to that area with interest. They stood at the door for a few moments, as if gathering their thoughts before the bell jingled to sound an entrance. Yet you still didn’t notice at all, focused on those patterns on the wall. Thinking about your mother, the Davenports, school and the kids who ridiculed you there. It wasn’t like you to not pay attention, used to greeting each and every customer to make them feel welcome and see if they needed help. But you were oblivious to the tall man entered through the glass door, staring at you in surprise and raising one white eyebrow as he took in you slumped over the counter, looking glum. What a sight that must have been, seeing the cheerful girl from yesterday so troubled and moody.

No, you didn’t notice him at all. Not until he was standing right by the counter, deep voice jolting you right out of daydreaming and bringing the previous days excitement back in a burst.

“You alright, sunshine? Lookin’ a bit cloudy today.”

Oh.

You jolted upright with a gasp, petals scattering all over the counter as you swung around to stare up at the white haired mystery man himself. Sure enough, Dante stood tall and handsome, completely real and solid as he met your gaze with a light grin. Oh goodness, he was dressed differently today--still casually, but a little more clean cut. His stubble had been trimmed neatly, and now he wore a grey button up tucked into black jeans with that red leather jacket slung over his shoulder. The sight of his white hair pulled back in a messy attempt at a ponytail sent your heart into overdrive, orchids blooming and dropping a considerable amount of petals from your hair onto the pile already forming at your feet. You immediately tried to hide them in your hair, flustered and panicking a bit despite how absolutely relieved you felt.

There goes the loneliness, here comes the absolute sheer excitement and nervousness with him being in the shop again.

He called you sunshine. He remembered. He’s here.

Calm down, you’re being ridiculous.

“O...oh…!” You tried to get your voice under control, but failed, cheeks already feeling far too warm as you stood straighter and stammered, “H...Hello again, Dante…!”

The rugged male seemed surprise as well, tilting his head a bit as he cleared his throat. You noticed him nervously run a hand through his hair, almost like he didn’t realize it was in a ponytail--the action pulled a few strands loose.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya, “ He chuckled, the sound both warm and a bit off, like he wasn’t sure how to progress at all, “Shocked you remember me, to be honest. I uh...didn’t make the best first impression.”

Something about his awkward disposition was oddly...cute. Relaxing, even. Dante kind of reminded you of a nervous boy asking a girl to a school dance for the first time. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but he seemed just as nervous as you, but better at hiding it. Trying to keep his cool. Reading people was a hobby you kept up on while working in the shop, so his cues and mannerisms were starting to make more sense. That hand through his hair, the way he kept shifting from one leg to another, clearing his voice...He looked a bit embarrassed, to be completely honest. No better than you, which was comforting and endearing all the same.

His words made you smile softly, some of the anxiety melting away as you replied with firm honesty in your tone, “I disagree...you were very kind and understanding, it made for a lovely first impression. Of course I remember, Dante.”

This seemed to relax him a bit too, his stiff posture losing some of its edge as he let out a hefty sigh, “Maybe, but I do owe you an apology though. I uhhh... I realized later that I hadn’t actually given you a day when we can have coffee or...anything.”

Oh. You blinked, staring at his blue eyes despite him looking away, scratching the side of his neck and looking slightly guilty. Another nervous habit. Cute. He must have realized belatedly, like you, that no date had been set up for this impromptu interaction that had you so nervous.

A smile tilted your lips, followed by a soft, embarrassed giggle as you admitted, “I kind of forgot to ask about a day too...I...I got too excited and didn’t realize till later…”

Admitting that felt strange, almost like you were giving away too much. It was awkward, but in a way that seemed oddly correct.

Dante certainly didn’t mind. Hearing about your excitement made his blue eyes finally meet yours, surprise and relief mingling on his expression like it somehow took a weight off his chest. You didn’t really know what you looked like to him in that moment, but Dante was absolutely enchanted. Flowers blooming in your curls, cheeks pink with honesty and excitement...it shot several arrows through his already nervous heart, sending it into overdrive like a caged bird seeking to be freed. Thank god he decided to come back, that he didn’t chicken out and listened to the others.

“That was all on me, sunshine,” He chuckled, leaning against the counter and plucking a few petals from its surface. You flushed more at his closeness, watching him rub the soft floral between his fingers, “Thinkin’ I got a bit too excited myself. It was pretty rude of me to just...ask and bounce like I did. So how ‘bout I make it up to you and take you out today, if you’re free?”

Today? So soon? It was everything you wanted and more.

You couldn’t help but notice he smelled nice today--he was close enough that a warm scent reached your sensitive nose, bringing traces of what must have been a men’s soap brand or cologne. Both this and his words sent a little thrill down your spine, heartbeat pounding in your chest even as Clover looked on with curious eyes. She seemed to be keeping her distance for now, sizing Dante up even as he looked at her with a hint of interest in his own gaze. Focus, you needed to focus--The man had asked you a question. But the sight of him trying to cover up his nervousness by turning his attention to Clover was only making you more flustered.

We’re both a mess. An absolute mess.

Dante extended a hand to let your familiar sniff, purposely allowing the small cat take her time instead of petting her outright. Clover already knew about Dante after you talking to her about it. But...her reaction to sniffing him really put you off. Clover was usually a very mild mannered cat, she behaved and liked everyone she met. With Dante, however, her little nose scrunched up in obvious distaste, ears flat against her skull and a low growl emanating from her throat. You blinked in surprise, watching Dante immediately retrieve his hand and look ruefully disappointed. Not surprised, like he somehow expected this outcome. He didn’t try to reach out again, making an apologetic face to you as she let out another low growl.

What in the world was that? Your familiar immediately slunk her way around you in a very protective manner, ears still down and eyes not leaving Dante for a second. Why was she so angry? You got nothing but honesty from Dante when he spoke, and there were no bad scents or energies. Mind you, there was something a bit off about his aura, just a twinge of something from him that felt familiar. But...no violence, no bad intentions. Your senses didn’t lie, not when it came to something this important. Perhaps Clover was just feeling a bit territorial or jealous? Having a stranger coming into your life might have been scary, or maybe it was due to how upset you were the previous night due to not knowing if he would come back?

“Clover!” You scolded, picking the cat off the counter and tucking her against your chest, “Don’t be mean, that’s so unlike you…!”

The cat snorted in your face, ears flicking and looking quite perturbed. Her gaze kept flickering over to Dante in a fierce glare, letting out light growls as Dante shifted back a step, getting the message loud and clear.

“Don’t worry about it,” He chuckled, seeming ruefully as he stared at Clover’s fluffed up tail, “Cats don’t like me too much--never knew why.”

That last part of his sentence...it was tinged in a bit of untruth. He knew why cats didn’t like him--but whatever it was, the man was reluctant to tell you why.

Perhaps that should have made you wary, should have made you hesitate. Clover was your familiar, and her judgement was important to you above all other things. But this lie, seeing the almost sad way his eyes drifted away only served to make you very curious, stirring that part of you that sought adventure and wanted to know more. Past attraction, wanting to know what rested at the core of this strange man who seemingly stumbled into your life. You paused, staring at Clover’s scrunched up face imploringly for a moment, gathering your thoughts. If anything, going out to a coffee was the safest you could get--you could pick the place, somewhere public and talk for a bit. If there was any indication of danger, you could leave. Easy as that.

You wanted to know him. Wanted to know what made Clover not like him.

I’m sorry, Clove. I have to try, I have to know.

“I can close the shop down early for the day,” You said decidedly, looking shyly at Dante while he blinked in surprise, “It’s slow on mondays. Do you mind waiting here while I take Clover upstairs and get changed?”

Something akin to eagerness flashed in his eyes, but he tried to keep his tone neutral as he replied, “You sure? I wouldn’t want to barge in on your work day or anything.”

That was the fun part about owning your own business--you got to set hours and make choices. There were no more deliveries and business would be slow at best, completely absent at most.

A soft smile tilted your lips as you stepped out from behind the counter, shaking free a cloud of petals as you turned up the closed sign on the door. All the while Clover growled softly, tail doubled in size with her anger. She wasn’t liking this situation at all, especially not with you ignoring her warnings and still going out with Dante.

“It’s perfectly fine,” You reassured the man and her at the same time, slipping past him to head upstairs, “I’ll be down in five minutes...I know a lovely bakery nearby that serves coffee and tea, we can go there for lunch.”

Somehow this relieved Dante, like he hadn’t actually decided where you both would go. He nodded, running a hand through his silver hair again in a nervous gesture, “Sounds good, sunshine.”

That nickname made your heart beat faster, cheeks flushed as you hurried to the back room and up toward your apartment. Petals drifted in your wake, a few more orchids blooming in your excitement. Lord, you were so out of control at that moment it was ridiculous. This was your first date, the only one you had ever gone on in your whole life. No dating in high school, so busy with the shop afterwards that it never came up. But now...what were you supposed to do on a first date? Could you hold hands? Was that too much? So many questions were buzzing around your skull that you weren’t sure how to process anything.

All the while, Clover meowed naggingly as you entered the apartment, seeming distressed as you set her down on the table. She followed, eyes watching and little mouth working overtime as you changed into something cute--a pink sweater tucked into a high-waisted, black pleated skirt. Would pink thigh highs and boots be too much? You settled for tights instead, and brown laced boots to go with it. There was still that part of your brain worried about Clover’s reaction to Dante, but you wanted to try trusting your instincts for once.

So many years you spent letting fear and worry keep you to yourself, working in the flowershop alone. A lot of that time was spent letting others make your choices for you, content on just doing what was expected of you and safe. But now...you wanted something exciting, wanted to try and listen to instinct for once.

You paused, taking a deep breath and holding your mother’s locket firmly between your fingers. She would never let you get hurt, never lead you astray. There were no bad feelings from Dante, and until there were you would rather take a chance than play everything safe.

“I’ll be okay, Clover,” You promised the cat, finally looking down at her body weaving between your feet before plucking her up into an embrace. She stopped meowing as you did so, looking incredibly worried even as you kissed her snout, “Just trust me, okay? I don’t know why you’re so spooked, but...I want to take a chance. If something is up, I’ll come right home. Promise.”

The cat still hesitated, ears pressed back and eyes wide with worry. But she didn’t meow again as you set her down, grabbing your small purse and keys before heading for the door. Cell phone carefully tucked away, everything in its place. Just in case, you brought a packet of particularly potent seeds, ones that could sprout into vines if you needed to make a quick retreat. You never ever assumed Dante could hurt you, or even want to, but...Mrs. Davenport taught you to be cautious, and you didn’t want to be too trusting.

Clover was sitting by the door as you closed it, like she was ready to wait until you came back. Hopefully she wouldn’t do that, but you gave her a small wave anyway as the wooden surface separated you both from view. Her dislike of the white haired male was definitely disappointing, you wouldn’t deny that. There was still a mystery to uncover, however, and going out on this little date was something you wanted more than anything. It felt so foolish to think this way--like those girls you see in movies who end up ignoring warning signs and going out with serial killers.

But...Dante’s aura was gentle with you. It was sad, filled with trauma he seemed to keep bottled up. The colors were warm and bright, tinged with something you didn’t understand--but you wanted to.

So you gathered your courage... and made your way downstairs.

Dante was still waiting there when you arrived, seemingly trying to fix his messed up ponytail. That leather jacket was now on his body, a stark contrast from the neutral grays and blacks of his outfit. He didn’t notice you return, eyes down in concentration as his long fingers slid back the white hair with a black hair tie in tow. Something about it made your heart beat faster, flustered all over again at the way his grey button up shifted around his chest muscles and waist. Oh dear…maybe you didn’t have the nerves for this? Sent blushing and nervous just at the sight of him doing something so normal, like a flustered school girl.

No backing down now.

You took a deep breath, nervously tucking a curl behind your ear and trying to will each flower to stop blooming in the loose braid you still had. The orchids had a mind of their own and practically blasted your feelings to the whole world, it was so embarrassing. So...honest.

Dante looked up at the sound of your boots clicking on the floor, breath catching as he took in your appearance with unabashed awe before trying to make his expression more collected and neutral. You looked like a fae in his eyes, ethereal and gorgeous in the sun’s dancing patterns. The flowers in your hair, the way your braid curled over your shoulder with the occasional curl escaping to cling around your face….you were a vision, and he was having trouble gathering himself together at the sight. How was he supposed to not act like a stammering, bumbling mess around you now?

He needed to remember what Trish and Lady told him. Open all the doors for her, tell her she’s pretty, but that’s not the most important thing about her. Remember to listen, to talk about her and yourself. Be a gentleman for fucks sake.

“Welcome back, sunshine,” He greeted you, lips quirked in a half smile as he stood straight and stepped away from the counter. There was a hint of nervousness in his eyes, a chuckle escaping his lips as he added, “Just gonna warn you now, I’m gonna be a whole idiot today walking around with you lookin’ that gorgeous. I’m already forgetting how to make complete sentences.”

He was trying to use humor to cover up his awkward compliment, which was charming your socks off while also sending your heart pounding away. I’m such a mess. I’m such a MESS--one complement and I’m practically a puddle at his feet.

You flushed pink, looking down as you stammered, “I...I highly doubt that...but...you look very handsome today. I’ve never been on a date before so...I might be an idiot too.”

Were you supposed to admit that? Maybe not. But Dante didn’t seem to mind.

He let out a sigh of relief, walking toward you and staring ruefully at your flustered face. You felt a twinge of surprise when he held out a hand for your to take, showing you those calloused, scarred fingers you felt the day before.

“Then we have something in common,” He admitted, scratching the back of his head with the other hand, “This is honestly the first time I’ve tried going on a date with anyone...I’m a bit of a disaster, sunshine.”

Somehow, that both surprised you and didn’t. He was so handsome and warm, but...there was tragedy in his life. It was something dark and heavy, weighing the poor man down and you weren’t doubting that, not with what you could sense. But...you were a bit of a disaster too, and you had your own secrets tucked away where no one could see. Dante was an adventure, and something about him drew you in like a moth to a flame. So you took his hand gently with your fingers, enjoying the way he sucked in a surprised breath and a hint of flush made its way across his cheeks. It would seem some of his reactions were very honest, especially when your fingers curled around his and squeezed. Warm...very warm, and oh so gentle with you...he squeezed back.

His expression was so cute.

You smiled softly, tugging him towards the door as you replied, “That’s fine with me...I’m a bit of a disaster too, so try not to worry too much. We can learn together, slowly if you’d like.”

This was only the first date--both of you had all the time in the world to decide how this would go. Maybe after learning about him, or seeing how he acted in public would make you change your mind. Maybe you weren’t compatible--but learning that would be part of the fun. And there would be no better way of doing it than having a nice lunch at Alex’s bakery, with people you knew and faces around who had your back. But Dante didn’t seem to be a bad person, nor did he seem to have bad intentions. There was only a quiet, nervous eagerness from him as he opened the flowershop door for you, still holding your hand as you locked it tight for the day.

The waiting mid-day sun was warm on your face, like a soothing caress as you turned to smile at Dante. Your cheeks immediately flushed, however, at how handsome he looked with the light glinting off his white hair. Lord, he was a beautiful man, and the world seemed determined to show you. The thought made you suck in a breath, trying to gather any courage you could muster while tugged his hand to signal movement. He fell in step easily, tucking you hand around his arm like a gentleman would.

Do not get too attached yet. It’s only one day.

“I think you’ll like Alex’s bakery,” You hummed, the wind rustling your curls as you walked the familiar path, “His sweets are great if you like that--and they have a wonderful dark roast and many different exotic teas.”

“Sweets are good,” Dante nodded in approval, eyes lighting up at the prospect, “To be honest I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, sunshine.”

A sweet tooth then? That was pretty surprising for a man like him, not that you would say that.

Instead you smiled, staring forward as you responded softly, “What’s your favorite sweet, Dante?”

You expected him to think about it, or maybe rattle off something like chocolate or some cream filled pastry. But instead he grinned, his answer quick and smooth as he turned to meet your gaze.

“My favorite? Strawberries.”

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#devil may cry #devil may cry five #devil may cry 5 #dmc5 #dante devil may cry #dante x reader #flowershop fic #flowershop OC

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