#which is of course difficult because. time period

[chatdae]

The Great Gatsby (1974) au where Gatsby doesn't die and instead Nick takes on the no-paying job of trying to get Jay to move on from Daisy.

Bad ending is Gatsby never does & he and the Buchanans become a never-ending shitshow. Good ending is Jay moves on. Super special bonus ending is Jay and Nick fall in love (toxicity optional)

[butchviking]

actually 2 b honest most of my Emotional Issues rn just boil down 2 im lonely. im literally just lonely.

[genderqueerdykes]

had the consult for my gallbladder surgery. the doctor told me i need to "lose 10 - 15 pounds" before they'll perform the surgery on me, and that I would need to wait 2 - 3 months before they would schedule it. i told her i have PCOS which makes it difficult to lose weight. she told me that does happen, and offered to refer me to a bariatric surgeon who is used to bigger bodies who could perform the gallbladder removal instead. i asked her for the referral to them instead

i was very angry at her for this, as 10 - 15 pounds do not make any difference when you are 300 lbs. my weight fluctuates between 280 - 340 lbs depending greatly on what i've eaten, how much i exercise, and so on. this will also vary greatly depending on if the stone is blocking my gallbladder completely or partially- if it's fully blocking the neck of my gallbladder, i cannot get enough digestive juices into my stomach to properly digest my food, so i will begin violently vomiting to get the undigested food out, and to get bile flowing into my stomach again. i begin to lose tons of weight when this happens, and i put it back on during the periods where i can get enough bile in my stomach to properly digest my food.

i can't digest my food properly. eating "healthier" will not change this- i can't digest food at all, period. healthy or unhealthy, i can't digest anything, because a good half of my digestive juices are completely missing from my guts. there is a functional issue with the way my guts work, of course i will lose weight drastically and put it back on at times. of course the issues will be episodic.

both her and the student that was working with me kept assuming that i said that my pain got worse after "high fat" meals. both of them put this in my mouth-

the student did it first. she asked when the pain gets worse and i said sporadically, but sometimes after i eat. she literally asked me "so you said it gets worse after fatty meals, right?"

i got frustrated and said "no, it's really random." i didn't get to tell her that raw leafy vegetables and lightly steamed or cooked vegetables make me vomit. broccoli and cauliflower that aren't heavily cooked, salads, raw vegetables, lightly cooked carrots, applesauce and apples in general are all problem foods.

the doctor then came in and said "it gets worse after high fat meals, right? you said that" and i went, again, "no it just kinda happens."

i don't even eat a high fat diet. i cook at home now for every meal now that i have all the tools i need to do so. i make rice, fish, pasta, and certain vegetables that i can digest like potatoes, sweet potatoes, onions, mushrooms, and so on. i eat bread, seeds, nuts, dried fruits, and drink oatmilk. i don't eat land meats, eggs, or dairy. i don't have any of those things. i do eat french fries and fish sticks, but not for every single meal. i don't eat chips because they're too salty and irritate my stomach. i don't eat candy or sweets unless the food bank delivers them to me. i don't eat much sugar other than pancakes and certain fruits

she wouldn't listen to me and went "well when you eat fatty meals, your gallbladder has to contract more and it can cause you a lot of pain." you would not believe how many times she came back to "you need to eat a lower fat diet." "the pain gets worse after you eat a high fat meal, so eat lower fat meals and your pain will go down." "just eat a lower fat diet and it'll help."

i just kind of sighed. there were tears in my eyes. i felt defeated. they made a bunch of assumptions just because i was sitting there, being fat. i was wearing long sleeves due to it being cold and they didn't get to see that i have a lot of muscle in my body mass. quite a lot. i wanted to tell them that i'm on testosterone and physically active when and where possible, and that i frequently lift heavy objects and move, but i never got a chance. i wanted to tell them my BMI isn't what they think it is, but i just didn't bother to try

i despise that people assume that fat people are fat because they eat "unhealthy" foods. i ate high fat foods for a few months while i was homeless because i didn't have the resources to cook every single meal. it affected my liver, i'm dealing with some fatty liver. but my gallbladder has more important issues in the form of the literal stone inside. she would not stop pushing for me to eat lower fat meals. all because i was sitting there, existing, as a fat person. i wish i would've told her i can only eat fish and plant matter

i don't understand how a patient telling you they're vomiting and can't keep down certain foods does not sound like a more pressing issue than an arbitrary number. weight as a number means nothing, it tells you nothing about that person's actual body composition. i have trauma with vomiting and yet i'm going to have to keep doing it anyway despite the fact that it could kill me via dehydration or if i just. can't stop

either way i'm very unhappy with result as i already waited for a month for this consult. now i have to wait for a referral for another surgeon to go through, and to do the consult with them, too. all while being in pain and having GI issues the entire time. just because a surgeon doesn't want to take the time to learn how to operate on fat bodies. i'm tired. what a joke

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Burns Like Rum

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Astarion's hunger worsens every day and you don't have any blood to spare—but that doesn't stop you from inadvertently tempting him at every turn. Luckily for both of you, you've both got the same idea to cure him of his hunger.

Word Count: 7,840 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+), menstruating reader, hungry Astarion, mutual pining, possibly OOC dialogue, vampire feeding, soft Astarion, no particular timeline but Astarion hasn't told you anything yet

18+ Warnings: period sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), hand job, bite kink, blood kink, aftercare, use of the words cunt & cock

Note: For my usual readers, more Stranger Things content is coming, I promise! But this bitey boy currently owns my heart so I'm gonna show him some love :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion was hungry, and it was entirely your fault, for more than one reason.

The first was that, almost a month ago now, you had let Astarion drink from you. He'd been starving, and it didn't help that the others had given him strict rules about feeding, so when he flashed those sad but gorgeous red eyes at you, complaining of hunger, you'd all but gifted him your neck.

He'd practically drained you that night. You had been weak for days. Of course, the others, namely Gale and Lae'zel, were furious with you for letting him drink from you, but the sated, content look on his face after feeding made it all worth it to you. He'd become more comfortable around you after that, too, and you'd considered that an improvement.

It hadn't been all that bad, really, for him to sink his teeth into you and drink until your grip on him had grown so weak that he'd let up to check on you. In fact, it had been...rather pleasant. He'd been gentle, careful, his bite sharp but considerate. You knew then that you'd risk becoming anemic for a week just to feel the pleasure of his hand cradling your neck and head, his mouth against your neck, his tongue soothing the bite he'd left when he'd had his fill.

But in the weeks that followed, his hunger gradually returned, and with a vengeance. It was as if he'd never fed from you at all, suffering hunger pangs he hid from the others—but you noticed, recognizing them from the night he'd begged you to let him drink from you.

You'd offered him more of your blood since then, but he'd refused you every time. He could smell your guilt, your need to make him feel better simply because you felt responsible for his current pain.

"I won't accept blood from someone who feels obligated to give it to me," he'd said, and his tone made it difficult to tell if he was being snide or kind.

Sometimes, you simply didn't understand that man.

And then three days ago, you'd been injured in a fight. It was nothing fatal, the gash in your midsection missing any major muscles and not deep enough to jeopardize your organs, but it was bloody. You'd limped your way back to camp, your head swimming, the world around you growing darker around the edges with every step.

You'd fainted in Astarion's arms—although collapsed was a better word for it, according to Karlach—drenched in blood, some of which was yours and some of which that wasn't.

"You should have seen his face!" Karlach had laughed when you'd woken up the next morning, woozy but fine thanks to Shadowheart. The blood loss kept you off your feet for the day to recover, and Karlach had taken the time to visit you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, although you already had a good idea what might have happened after you passed out.

"You put him in a right pickle, collapsing on him like that, all covered in blood and losing more of it quickly," she said. "He didn't know what to do with you. It was— It was like he didn't want to drop you, but he really did want to drop you, because all he wanted to do was drink from you. Can't say as I blame him—he's not fed in weeks and you turn up with his next meal draining out of you." You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "Why'd you beeline for him anyway? Shadowheart's tent was just a few paces away!"

You glared at her through your fingers. "You know why I went to him, Karlach!" She, of all people, would understand. She had been the first person to find out that, as much as you flirted with them all, Astarion was the one you wanted.

"Well, obviously," she said, "but it didn't occur to you that he might...have an adverse reaction?"

Rolling your eyes, you snarked, "No, Karlach, it didn't, I was bleeding out and suffering from head trauma. I just...saw someone I trusted to keep me safe and ran to him."

She cocked her head to the side. "That's sweet, but stupid."

You snorted. "Yeah, I know—Shadowheart won't stop yelling at me for it."

You hadn't seen Astarion until that night, when the group of you had gathered at the campfire. It hadn't meant to be like that; you'd seen him and had wanted to talk to him, at least apologize for throwing your bloody body at him, but Shadowheart followed you closely to keep you safe and soon the others had gathered.

It had been like a very strange family dinner, made awkward by everyone dancing around exactly why you'd gone to Astarion, knowing a hungry vampire and fresh blood were not a good mix.

The final reason you were making his hunger unbearable made itself known at the end of the night, when it was just you, Astarion, and Shadowheart at the dying fire.

She must have caught sight of the way you kept looking at Astarion out of the corner of your eye, embarrassedly looking away or pretending to gaze into the trees behind him every time he caught you looking. She tapped your shoulder and told you she needed to get rest. The "you should, too" was implied, hanging in the air along with her worry about your healing.

"I'm fine, Shadowheart, really," you insisted. "I won't rip myself open again, I promise."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Astarion promised. "Nothing too...strenuous for her just yet." Something in his voice made you shiver.

She left the two of you alone. You looked first at the fire, then down at your hands, folded in your lap. Anywhere than at him.

You didn't even hear him move. You only knew he had when you felt him sit on the log beside you, one of his hands covering your own.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft. "I...am sorry I didn't visit you, it's just—"

"It's just that I threw myself at you when it looked like I'd taken a shower in blood and that made things a wee bit difficult?" you interrupted, the words spilling out before you had time to process that you were speaking. Embarrassed heat flushed through you instantly.

But Astarion only gave you that soft, slightly toothy smile. You drank it in, relishing his smile lines and the brief contentment on his face. "Something like that, yes," he said. "I was...worried I might hurt you if I saw you again and you still smelled so deliciously of your blood. I'm so hungry, darling, it's unbearable. All I wanted was to feast until there was nothing left of you, and I'd never forgive myself if I—"

"Stop." You held up your hand. "Please. I don't... Don't be so nice to me, it makes me feel like I'm on my deathbed."

Astarion laughed, throwing his head back. "I'd hardly call wanting to drain you nice, my love." Almost unconsciously, your gaze dipped to his exposed neck and you wondered idly what he would do if you were to bite him back.

Probably the strenuous activity Astarion had promised Shadowheart you wouldn't be doing.

He met your gaze, a sudden depth and seriousness in his crimson stare. "Stick with me, and you might soon be on your deathbed." Pointedly, he broke eye contact with you, letting his eyes drop first to your neck and then further down your body. You tingled, the feeling reminiscent of the anemia that had possessed your body in the hours and days after he'd drank from you.

You realized Astarion was waiting for a reaction from you, hoping for something more than your stunned silence. So you let your eyes drift across his body, resting on his mouth as you said, "Doesn't sound like a bad way to go out."

From the back of his throat came a sound that wasn't quite a growl or a groan, but somewhere in between, just as needy as either sound. "Don't tempt me, darling," he whispered. "I promised Shadowheart I'd keep you safe, and you certainly wouldn't be if I did everything I want."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Astarion..."

He closed his eyes, leaning toward you, releasing a tense breath. "Darling..."

"What if I want to tempt you?" You put your hand on his leg, sliding closer to him.

"Cheeky thing," he said, eyes opening in small slits. "But only when you're healed. I can still smell the blood on you." He sighed. "You have no idea how much restraint it takes not sink my teeth into that pretty neck of yours."

You frowned. "But I am healed," you said. "Just tender. Shadowheart wouldn't have let me leave her tent otherwise."

"I can't blame you for wanting me," Astarion teased, that familiar charm honeying his words, "but I've never been wrong." He cupped your cheek, his touch taking the bite out of his words. He offered you a small, sympathetic smile.

You put your hand to your abdomen, half-expecting to find that your wound had ripped open of its own accord. Your shirt and the bandage beneath it was dry—but a sudden twinge of pain, appearing only once it had been acknowledged, came from lower. You hissed.

Astarion sat up straighter. "What is it? Are you alright?"

"Shit. I think I've figured out why you still smell blood," you said through clenched teeth.

Astarion's eyes dipped to where your hand rested. "It's that time again already, is it?"

"It's early," you groaned. You stood slowly, regretting it instantly.

He tracked you as you moved, his gaze becoming dangerous and predatory. It was the look that had scared you when he drank from you, practically convincing you he wasn't going to stop. Still, his need for you burned through you like rum, its heat spreading through your belly.

"I didn't smell it before, not under all the blood you had on you," he said. His voice was deep, dark, dangerous. "But, oh, darling—I smell it now." He licked his lips and your stomach did flips that were neither pleasant or unpleasant. The hunger in his eyes was palpable

"I, ah, have to go. For your sake and mine. Um. So, uh, goodnight, Astarion. I...I'll see you when this is all over."

He stood up quickly. "Darling, do you need—" He cut himself off as you waved away his concern, crossing the camp to your own tent.

"No! Goodnight!" you called over your shoulder.

Astarion sighed. "...Night."

~❊~

You avoided Astarion like the plague. Well, perhaps not, because while you never wanted to see the disease, you were always on the lookout for your favorite vampire.

You caught glimpses of him through the open flaps of your tent, sauntering by with a swagger you found unfairly attractive. You saw him reading on his own when Shadowheart helped you changed your bandages, his handsome face fixed in concentration. A few hours later, you heard him arguing with Gale about the very same book, which had apparently gone missing, and you hated the flutter in your stomach at the growl in his angry voice.

"Stop that," Karlach said, glancing up at you as the pair of you cooked, Karlach helping you roast root vegetables evenly.

"Stop what?"

"Mooning over him," she said, jerking her head in Astarion's direction.

Your body flushed with heat. "I'm not—"

"You are, and we can all tell, and you should just get it over with, but only if you mean it."

You frowned, tearing your eyes away from the blessed sight that was Astarion basking in the sun. "Sorry, what?"

Karlach sighed. "If you sleep with him—" You spluttered. "—it had better be because you truly want him and not because you're bleeding."

You blinked at her. "Karlach, of course I want him, you've heard me talk about him before this!"

"I know, I know," she relented, "but I have a feeling there's more to our vampire than meets the eye." She glanced over at Astarion. "Just...be kind to him, dear. He's more fragile than he looks."

You followed her gaze over to him. He was stretching, his arms lifted high above his head, undoubtedly oblivious to the two of you watching him. Want and need bubbled up inside of you, both clamoring for Astarion, agreeing that he would fulfill them both. The deep-seated lust you'd had for him since he'd first put a knife to your neck burned even brighter as the breeze that had been kicking up dust all morning played with the silver hair curling around his ears.

His nostrils flared and you knew he'd smelled you. He looked over at you and Karlach and you froze. She waved cheerily, then frowned at you when you didn't move. You swallowed harshly and went back to removing the scales from the fish in your lap.

"He doesn't like not being around you either, you know," Karlach said, returning to the task at hand. "He's always looking at you when you're not looking. You're perfect for each other like that."

"I don't want to make this harder for him by being around him," you said, glancing back over at him. He was watching you as he poured himself a glass of wine. Had it been normal circumstances, when you weren't driving him insane simply by smelling like blood, you would have teased him for day-drinking. "He's already so hungry, I'd only make that worse. It was bad enough I threw myself at him covered in his favorite snack!"

Karlach snorted. The sound of a light laugh floated over to you and you looked up to find Astarion smirking into his goblet. He beckoned you over and your eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me for a moment, Karlach," you said, clearing your throat.

Karlach followed your gaze and giggled. "More than a moment, dear. I'll come back later to help you finish this." She left the log you'd been sharing and you waited until she was in her own tent again before you jumped to your feet and practically ran to Astarion.

"Hello, darling," he purred. "Care for a drink?"

"I could go for a little," you said.

Astarion smiled, that rakish charm summoning warmth that spread through your entire body. "I hope you like red," he said, and put his own goblet to your lips.

You held his gaze as you drank. You saw his nostrils flare, his pupils growing large. You knew he could hear how your heart was racing, could smell your arousal mixing with your blood.

He pulled the goblet away from your lips and took another swig. You licked the red wine off your lower lip and heard the breath catch in his chest.

"You're starving, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," he whispered.

"I might," you said. "Thought I'd say it's a hunger of a different kind."

Astarion's smirk was so wide you could see his fangs clearly. "Oh, really, darling?"

You nodded, taking a step closer to him. He breathed in deeply. "We could help each other, you know. Satiate our hungers."

His eyes grew dark, trained on yours. "Is that so?" He raised his hand, nearly brushing your cheek, but stopped himself just before he touched you. "You'd let me soothe your pain by..." His gaze dropped to your waistline. "...eating from you?"

A tremor passed through you at the sound of his voice, deeper than you'd ever heard it, laced with a danger and a seduction you were embarrassed to find attractive. Your body was tuned to it, his words seeming to drop like a stone from your ears to your core, spreading fire through your veins and melting your organs.

Astarion took a small step closer to you and took your chin in three gentle fingers, tilting your head up toward him. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you then and there. "I'm going to need an answer, darling."

"Yes." You couldn't get the word out fast enough. It came out breathy, nearly lost on the wind still swirling between you.

He chuckled. "Well, then. You asked for it." He dropped the hand on your chin back to his side. "Once everyone else is asleep, come find me. We'll find a quiet place and...have a little fun."

~❊~

Of all the nights, it had to be this one where everyone came to check on you before they went to sleep. Thanks to Astarion avoiding you like the plague when the two of you had become inseparable, your monthly bleed had become public knowledge. So practically everyone in camp came to you with solutions you declined, claiming to feel fine, even though your pain had worsened over the course of the day.

You watched Astarion slink off into the forest after the sun had gone down and waited until the others were sequestered in their tents, nearly an hour later, to pull your boots back on, stand on shaky feet, and follow the path you assumed he'd taken.

You had started to believe you'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when you heard his cool voice from behind you: "There you are. I've been waiting."

Astarion stepped out of the shadows. He ran his gaze over you, observing your slightly hunched stance, your hand on your lower abdomen. Your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him; he looked softer in the moonlight. The silver light fell across his curls and the statuesque panes of his face, somehow making that face that was so gaunt with hunger unbelievably beautiful.

He looked like a poet or a god, even in just the simple shirt he insisted on wearing around camp instead of the finer silks you knew he carried with him. Or perhaps it was the simplicity that made him so godly. You couldn't tell.

A frown graced his brow. "The pain is worse now, isn't it?"

You nodded. "Just a bit."

Astarion left the small hill he stood on and came closer to you. He offered you his hand. "Come on, dear, let me make you feel better."

You let him guide you away from the path you had taken and into a small clearing just a few feet away, conveniently hidden by thickets, trees, and tall grass. He stood aside, letting you take it in for a moment, as if waiting for your approval of the place. You looked down at the mossy ground and decided it would be soft enough.

"Well, this is nice," you said, seconds before you heard fabric rustling. You turned and blinked rapidly at what you saw: Astarion, his shirt now off and in his hands. You watched him lay it down where the ground was most level. Your breath caught horribly in your throat at the sight of the scar covering his back. You fought back the urge to ask, knowing it would only piss him off.

He turned back to you with a smile. "Your bed for the evening, my love," he said, gesturing to it.

"Oh, Astarion, I can't, I don't want to get blood on your shirt. What would the others—"

Astarion cupped your face in one hand. "The others will assume I hunted something and got messy," he said. "And I'll enjoy your scent while I have it."

Flutters in your stomach nearly brought you to your knees. You looked up at him, drawing in a tiny breath, and brought your hand up to hold the wrist that cradled your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, unsure of exactly what you were begging for but knowing what you wanted.

"Promise me you'll tell me if...I'm too much," Astarion said, and you got the sense he'd changed what he was going to say.

You nodded, whispering your promise, and wound your free hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to push your lips to his.

It was a messy first kiss. It was little more than teeth and spit, but it felt like heaven anyway, because his free arm was winding around your waist and pressing your bodies together, his leg sliding between yours. Bliss spread through you, starting at your core.

Astarion pulled away from you. "Someone's eager, isn't she?"

You whimpered and he stifled it with another kiss, softer than the first. He was gentle, more than you'd expected from a starving man. He cupped the back of your head and your hand dropped to his hip. You opened your mouth to him and reveled in the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours. He made a soft sound of satisfaction and pushed his leg up against your clothed core. You moaned loudly, your grip on him tightening. Need flooded you and your hips pushed down on his leg, finding relief in the pressure.

The two of you pressed your foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"Shh, darling, not too loud. You don't want the others to come investigate, do you?" His cheeky tone suggested he would love it if the others found the two of you like this—or, perhaps, further along.

You wrapped both arms around his neck and buried your head into his shoulder, heat burning through you, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. You felt like there was a pendulum inside you, swinging constantly between wanting to slow down, afraid of coming off as too eager, and desperately needing him to get to it.

Astarion chuckled. "Don't hide, love." He smoothed his hand over your hair. "You do trust me, don't you?"

You kissed his shoulder and heard his breath catch. "With my life, Astarion."

"Are you ready?"

You nodded and he walked you over to his shirt and helped you to sit on it. He watched you lay down, his gaze falling your exposed neck. There was something more than hunger in his eyes; it made your breathing hitch.

Astarion crawled over you and placed his hand underneath your head before he kissed you. You draped your arm over his shoulders, holding him close to you, enjoying the soft touch of his lips against yours. It was chaste, as were the next few that followed it in quick succession, one after the other.

One hand slid down your body and stopped at the hem of your trousers. He tugged at the shirt tucked into them. "Darling? May I?"

"Please do," you said.

"Arms up."

He pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it to the side. He looked down at your torso from where he straddled your hips. His hands skimmed over you and he leaned down, pressing more gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones. Your body tingled with remembrance, practically yearning to feel his fangs sink into your neck, to feel your blood leave you with a burning that felt like intoxication.

"Astarion." His name was a breathy cry on your lips, and you saw how much he liked the sound of it when he looked up at you, a smile curving onto the lips still pressed to your skin.

"Yes, dear?"

You gently coaxed him back up to you with your hand on his chin. "Let me kiss you."

He smiled, brighter than the moonlight falling around you, and you pressed your mouth to his. He hummed happily into your mouth, a pleasant sensation that made you reluctant to break the kiss. But you did, kissing along his jaw and down his neck instead. You nipped gently at his neck, pulling a surprised laugh from him.

"Really, darling? Biting the vampire?" Astarion's eyes were sparkling with amusement. His face had relaxed into an easy smile. It was a good look on him; you liked it.

You giggled and placed another kiss over the bite. The pair of you rolled onto your sides and you peppered his chest with kisses, your arm wrapped loosely around his waist. You went back up to his neck and sucked lightly.

"So much for the others not knowing," he teased.

You looked at him through your lashes. "What if I want them to know?"

"Cheeky little thing," he whispered, dragging a finger down the side of your face. "As much as I love this—and believe me, I do love this—I can't wait any longer. I'm starving, darling. Let me taste you. Please."

Slightly subdued, you rolled onto your back. "Alright," you whispered, your chest tightening in anticipation.

Astarion climbed on top of you again. He undid the laces at the front of your trousers and slipped his hand inside them, moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on yours.

The moment two of his fingers slid between your wet folds, your eyes fluttered shut and a happy sigh slipped from your lips.

"There she is," he whispered, his eyes half-lidded, as he worked you gently and slowly. You felt the blood and arousal gather on his fingers as he grew closer to your entrance. He dragged them back up to your clit and rubbed in a slow circle. You gasped, arching into his touch. Astarion giggled. "Oh, you like that, don't you?"

You wriggled underneath him, trying everything in your power to get more of his touch. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek and cooing softly at you. If he spoke words, you didn't hear them, too lost in the pleasure he easily, skillfully, brought to you.

Without warning, Astarion plunged both fingers into your entrance. You moaned, grabbing at his hair. He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Whimpers slipped past your lips; you couldn't have controlled them if you tried, but you were by no means trying. His smile grew with every sound you made, and you wanted nothing more than to see that smile.

Just as suddenly as he'd pushed his fingers in, he pulled them out. You whined instantly but he shushed you and removed his hand from your pants. A small streak of blood was left on the skin of your stomach as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched raptly as he licked your blood from his fingers, never once breaking eye contact with you.

He wasn't even touching you and the fire in your belly grew at the sight.

Astarion moaned softly around his fingers. You watched his deft tongue catch every drop of blood, thinned by your arousal, from his hand. He whispered your name in a whine and you let go of a long breath.

Once he'd licked his fingers clean, he bent down and yanked your trousers off your legs. You spread them automatically and he put one leg between them. He pulled off your undergarments and sat back, admiring your naked body with a satisfied smirk.

"Look at you," he whispered.

The need for him to touch you won out over the desire for him to keep staring at you. "Astarion." His name was a loud whine, emphasized by your writhing hips.

He chucked. "Needy girl." His hand returned to your cunt, his palm applying pressure to your clit while his fingers toyed with your bloody folds. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, the smell of blood so heady even you could smell it.

He teased your entrance for a moment and pulled his fingers back up, the tips of them coated in thick blood that looked black in the night. He sucked it from his fingers with a toothy smile, his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.

You pushed your hips up enough to catch his eye. "Please," you whimpered.

"Alright, love, alright," he said. He put his hand back and slipped his fingers back inside you. Relief curled through you—as did his fingers. "I'll starve myself a bit longer for your pleasure."

You cupped his neck and brought his face to yours and kissed him fiercely. He made a surprised but pleased sound into your mouth and quickened his pace. You gasped against his lips and he ducked his head to your neck, kissing you quickly with every curl of his fingers.

You twisted your fingers through his hair, rapidly kissing the top of his head, pushing your hips up into his hand. He chuckled, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. You shuddered in his arms.

"I've got you," he murmured, sucking a light mark into your neck. You felt his teeth prick you and saw the shudder that passed through his body at the tiny droplets of blood that appeared.

He pulled away from your neck and curled his fingers just so. You groaned.

"Astarion!" you cried, throwing your head back.

He grinned and quickened his pace. You sucked in a deep breath, fighting back tears of pleasure.

"Let go, darling," he whispered. "I've got you."

Astarion looked back down at your neck. He locked eyes with you as he pressed his tongue to your skin, slowly licking up the droplets as they began to run down your neck. The combination of his intense stare and the movement of his fingers was all you needed; with a loud cry, you came on his fingers, your walls clenching so hard around him he could hardly keep moving them.

He chuckled. "That's it, dear, that's it." He cooed softly, helping you through it with his voice, his soft touch, and gentle kisses to your lips.

You were breathing hard when he finally pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered at the slight pain but realized your cramps had all but disappeared.

Judging by the state of his hand, you didn't want to know how bloody his shirt was. It looked as though he'd reached into someone's chest and ripped their heart out; his hand was drenched and rivulets of blood ran all the way down to his elbow.

Astarion giggled at the sight while you burned with embarrassment. "Well, well, well. Someone's happy, isn't she?"

"So are you," you said, nodding to the bulge in his pants.

He grinned. "Well, what did you expect? You were quite vocal, my needy little thing." His eyes drifted back down to your cunt, lust curling through his gaze. "Tight and wet and utterly desperate for me."

He licked a stripe up his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, darling, you taste good." He sucked your blood off of every finger, pleasure sliding over his face.

You smiled. "There's more where that came from."

Astarion raised one perfect brow. "Can you handle another little death?" he teased.

You nodded. "I can take a few more."

He chuckled and groaned at the same time. "Oh, my love, don't make promises you can't keep."

You met his gaze as he finished cleaning off his hand. "Believe me, I can keep it."

The vampire grinned. "Very well, then. I'll eat good tonight."

He kissed you chastely as he put his hand between your legs again.

Astarion brought you pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before as his fingers slid over your blood-slick skin, teasing your folds and entrance with a smirk, often just barely inserting the tip of his finger before pulling it out again and tracing over your clit and smearing blood across your skin. He kissed and sucked on your breasts, leaving darkening bruises and tiny scratches from his teeth, licking up the tiny beads of blood that sprung from each nick. He kissed along the line of scarring and stitches you had gotten from your injury, fading fast but still a reminder of what had gotten you on your back for him in the first place. Now that he'd eaten a little, he was intently focused on bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, again and again and again.

He worked another orgasm out of you and was on his way to coaxing out the third when you stopped him.

"Is it too much?" he asked, frowning. His unbloodied hand moved to rest on your hip, his thumb smoothing over your skin. His eyes searched your face, looking for anything to tell him why you'd stopped him.

You shook your head. "I need more, Astarion," you gasped, slurring his name into Astari. The unintended nickname made him blush. "I need more of you. Please. Please."

The smile returned to his face, cockier than before. "Oh, darling. I need more of you, too," he said, looking into your cunt and licking his lips. "I could just eat you up."

You spread your legs wider. He settled between them. "Please do."

He breathed in deep and his eyes practically rolled back into his head. "You're going to be the death of me— Ah. Well, you would be, if I was alive."

You frowned. "Would this even be happening if you were alive?"

Astarion thought for a moment. "Let's not think about the logistics," he decided and licked the drying blood from his fingers off your abdomen. Your body trembled. He lifted your legs over his shoulders. You squeaked and smiled at him.

"Lay back," he whispered. You obliged him.

Wet warmth touched your skin just above your clit and you glanced down at him, watching him slowly lick the drying blood from your skin. He kissed your skin as he cleaned it, leaving you covered in slowly darkening bruises.

You stared at the stars as he pressed a soft first kiss to your clit. You let out a slow breath and he began to suck, his lips closing around it, his tongue licking light stripes.

You pushed your hips against his mouth. "Circles," you whispered.

"As you wish," he said, his breath fanning over your cunt and making you tremble. He went back to his feast, licking in circles this time, and you let out a soft whimper. You reached down and he reached up, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. You squeezed back.

He moved further down until his nose bumped your clit and his lips found your entrance. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural, at the taste of your blood. He lapped at your entrance, his tongue sweeping up the blood as soon as it collected there. You shuddered, your breaths coming in heaves.

Astarion kissed your entrance once before he dove in, pushing his tongue into your cunt. You gasped and he laughed and buried his face in you.

Through the pleasure, you wondered dimly how he was breathing (did he, as a vampire, need to breathe?), but the thought was pushed away the moment his splayed fingers on your hip dug into your flesh and pulled you even closer to his mouth.

The sounds you were making were obscene: your moans were loud and coarse, and your cunt squelched lewdly as he drank your blood and arousal. You felt filthy, aware that the mix was running down your legs and buttocks but knowing the vampire eating you out was enjoying you too much to care.

Astarion himself was quite vocal, moaning into you and making you shiver. He whimpered, whined, groaned, and keened, growing louder with every swallow of blood. He alternated between watching you writhe and squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

You watched his hand slide from your hip to his bulge. He palmed himself through his trousers, hissing in pleasure, and the sight was enough to send you over the edge for a third time.

But Astarion didn't let up. He lapped at you, sucking so harshly your pleasure bordered pain, until your legs stopped shaking and your breathing evened out.

He lifted his head with a grin. "How do I look?"

You looked at him and started laughing. He was the smiliest you had ever seen him, his eyes practically glowing, and the lower half of his face was covered in your blood. His teeth were stained red and sticky blood dripped slowly from his fangs. It ran down his chin in rivulets and splatters dotted his lower cheeks like freckles. Some of it was even in his hair.

"You're ridiculous," you giggled. "And a messy eater."

He snorted. "Excuse you!"

"It's all over your face!"

He sat up with a grin, licking his lips. "You mean you are all over my face."

Satisfaction curled through you. "Yes," you said, reaching for him. He took your hand again. "Yes I am."

He wiped his face with his hand and licked it clean once again. You reached up and wiped some off on your thumb, then held it out to him. He took your thumb into his mouth and sucked. Your heart stopped beating.

"Feeling better?" he asked you, lightly placing his palm over your abdomen, applying a little pressure, and rubbing gentle circles.

"Much better," you said. "Thank you. But, ah..." Your gaze drifted from his beautiful, if slightly pink, face and down to his bulge. It was just as, if not more, prominent now that he'd gone down on you. "What about you?"

Astarion smirked. "I like your enthusiasm, but don't worry about me. Not tonight, darling."

You frowned. "Why not? What if I want you inside of me?" You walked two fingers up his leg and slowly covered his crotch with your palm. When he didn't protest and his eyes fluttered shut, you gave him a gentle squeeze. He let out a soft moan through closed lips and tilted his head back. You kissed the column of his neck and bit down gently. You sucked—hard—and a rumbling moan came from his chest.

"Because," he said finally, drawing in a ragged breath. "Because that would be a terrible waste of your precious blood." He looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "When this is over, I promise you, you can have as much of me as you want." He pushed his hips into your hand and you gave him another gentle squeeze. He gasped.

You nuzzled into him and his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you there. "And what if I want all of you?"

The question hung in the air. He looked at you for a long time and suddenly you saw the fragility Karlach had mentioned this afternoon, which felt like years ago instead of mere hours. You reached up to cup his cheek and, though you were stark naked, the sexual desire in the air seemed to have disappeared.

"I want all of you, Astari," you whispered. The nickname made his eyes grow wide. "All of you, in every way, for as long as possible. If you'll let me. If you want me, too."

He whimpered, and the sound was broken. You hated hearing that pain coming from him. "I want you, I do, I just..." He closed his eyes and you were suddenly very sure there was a darkness, a secret, he was trying to hide from you. You were certain it had to do with his vampiric master he'd so often complained about. "I'll try, my darling, I'll try for you."

You sat up on your knees and cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. You didn't break the kiss once as you pressed your body against his and held him tightly. You felt the scar on his back and wanted to ask but didn't, letting him keep his secrets for now.

His arms came around you, cradling your back and holding you tight to him. The kiss became a long-lasting hug, the both of you burying your heads in each other's shoulders until Astarion pulled away from you, a smile on his face. You returned that smile and sat back on your heels.

His eyes trailed over your body again. There was a note of nervousness in his voice as he asked, "Darling, would you mind...touching me again? I could use some relief."

You grinned. "Of course, my love. All you had to do was ask."

Relief crossed his face. He leaned back as you trailed your hand from his shoulder, down his chest, and back to his bulge. You tipped his head back with your free hand and kissed his neck while you rubbed him. He pushed his hips into your hand, sighing blissfully, and your hand was in his trousers in seconds. He grew loud, thrusting his cock into your hand with a power that surprised you.

"Take what you need," you told him, your voice hushed, your lips directly next to his ear. "Help me give you what you want."

He whimpered, your name a broken cry from his lips, and he cuddled into you as he came. He buried his head into your neck, hiding his eyes and barely holding back grunts. As his thrusts grew weaker and you slowed your hand on him, you felt hot tears on your neck and wondered what this poor man had been through that he hadn't yet told you.

You removed your hand from his pants and he immediately wrapped you in another hug, one strong enough to knock you down and knock the breath of you. You held him as tightly as he held you.

When Astarion at last pulled away from you, his tears had stopped but his eyes still shone with them. He kissed you softly.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... Thank you."

You brushed some of his hair from his face. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You were... It's just that no one has cared about me during sex in a very long time and...you did. So...thank you."

You took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Astarion," you cooed. "I always care about you. Like this or otherwise. You could stop this right now—or before it even began—and I wouldn't have stopped caring about you."

He smiled. "Oh, darling. I love the sentiment, but I'm not done with you yet."

Astarion kissed down your body and laid between your legs again. He licked another stripe up your cunt and you saw the coating of blood on his tongue before he swallowed. "Shall we try for a fourth? Or perhaps even a fifth?" He raised his brow, leaving the decision up to you.

You laid back. "We'll try for as many as you'd like," you said.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "All night it is!"

~❊~

You woke up the next morning sore and alone and with very little sleep.

Astarion had been relentless and stopped only when you simply couldn't take it anymore and he was practically drunk on your blood—all without making you bloodless and woozy. When you had finished for the final time, he had cleaned you up, helped you back into your clothes, picked up his own shirt, and walked you back to camp. He was so gentle that you didn't even mind the teasing about how you limped.

Dawn hadn't been far off as you each went back to your tents after exchanging a final, solid kiss. So you woke to the sound of everyone else beginning their day just a few hours later.

You felt the soreness in your core before you even moved. Biting back a sigh and not regretting it one bit as you pictured Astarion's happy, bloody face, you rolled over and hoped your recent injury would be enough for the others to let you sleep in.

You were wrong.

Shadowheart opened your tent a few minutes later with a urgency that made you jump.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, blinking blearily in the bright sunlight.

"Are you alright? You never sleep in, you're always up making breakfast!"

You groaned. "Is that it? Are you just hungry?"

She peered at you. "Are you hurt? Did your wound reopen?"

"What? No! I'm fine, I'm just tired, that's all! I have lost a lot of blood recently, in case you forgot."

She sighed. "Oh. Alright. Well, just know the others are worried, too—Astarion especially."

You remembered how he'd checked in on you last night and had asked if he'd hurt you at all when you'd returned to camp and wondered if you had worried him by sleeping in. Suddenly you were grateful the others could chalk it up to his not-so-secret crush on you.

You dressed and hid the light bruises on your neck and collarbones in a high-collared shirt. You only noticed you were walking with a slight limp still after you'd left your tent and made your way across camp.

Karlach called your name and was at your side immediately. "You're limping! Are you hurt? Do you need me to fetch Shadowheart?"

You blinked at her. "What? No. I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine," Gale said, a few feet away, looking up from the book he'd been engrossed in for days. "Did you hurt your leg the other day? Or have your stitches ripped?"

"My, my," said a suave voice behind you. You turned and found Astarion grinning like a cat. "You do have quite the limp, there, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

You huffed at him, your body remembering his touch immediately, his ghostly hands sliding across your skin. "I'm fine, I promise. Now hush and someone help me make breakfast."

Both Karlach and Astarion sat with you, Astarion very close to you and giving you a smile you couldn't help but return. Karlach stared at Astarion like he'd grown two heads, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She gasped very suddenly.

"Not a word," you hissed at her, knowing she'd figured it out.

Astarion smirked.

"And nothing from you, either," you added. "You're the reason I'm walking like this, you bastard."

He smiled sweetly at you, catching the fondness in the words. "And I gladly will be again." He took your hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it. Your eyes grew wide.

Karlach squeaked.

"You know nothing," you told her. "At least for a little while."

"Yes," Astarion agreed. "At the very least, tell Shadowheart nothing—I broke my promise to her to keep our dear girl from doing any strenuous activity."

You turned red and Karlach groaned, "Not before breakfast, please!"

Astarion opened his mouth—undoubtedly to say something about how you were technically his breakfast, based on the hour you'd returned to camp—but you moved quicker than he could speak. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him toward you, kissing him heartily to shut him up.

A heavy silence settled over camp. You cracked one eye open and found the rest of your companions staring at the pair of you, mouths agape and eyes wide.

"Oops," Astarion muttered, sounding rather pleased.

You cleared your throat. "I, ah, I've been meaning to tell you all. Honestly."

Gale heaved a sigh. "How much do I owe you, Wyll?"

Your jaw dropped open. "You placed bets?!"

"Alright, you bloodsucker," Wyll said, holding his hand out and waiting for his payment from Gale. "You win."

"Yes," Astarion said, and you expected him to be wearing a smirk infused with his charm, his triumphant eyes on the others. But when you turned to him, he was staring at you, a dopey smile fixed on his face. "Yes, I did."

☞ ❊ ☜

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

part 2 (Sweet Like Wine) {here}!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!}

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: APPARENTLY THIS IS A GUY NAMED DAVOS BLACKWOOD. But he literally IS Bloody Ben. So he's staying Bloody Ben.

P.s. I'm ageing Benjicot up so he's around 24 or whatever age you want him to be that's over 18 <3

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・It wasn't an arranged marriaged. No, not by any means.

・You had been sent by your Queen to remind the Houses of Westeros their pledge to her. And Rhaenyra had chosen you to go to the Blackwoods.

"I expect you will be welcomed warmly," her Grace said with a warm smile.

You bowed your head and returned the smile.

・You always felt safe around Rhaenyra, she was someone very close to you. Someone who you would fight to the death for.

・The first time Benji saw you, his heart stopped...which was a very fair reaction as you were atop your fearsome dragon, The Cannibal.

・You bonded with the wild dragon when you were 13 - it was the first day of your periods and you were sick and tired of being without a dragon.

・It was in your blood. And you were done waiting.

・Your first flight with Cannibal was difficult - although the blood magic seemed to be strong between the two of you.

・You were the exact person he was waiting for.

・So when your duty came to aid Queen Rhaenyra; she did asked for you to unite with a House through marriage

・That was heavy - a big duty that you did not think would need to happen, since you bonded with Cannibal. Wouldn't you be put on the front lines straight away? Her answer was no.

・But you knew the realities of war and faced your duty head on (you know Cannibal will always defend you)

・Your marriage was a significant one. All the Blackwoods were invited, and Rhaenyra was there to oversee the ceremony.

・However, having all of your family there would have been another Red Wedding, so only a few choice people from your side could be invited.

・Nonetheless, it was absolutely beautiful.

・Dragonfire lit the skies, chasing away the dark. Even Cannibal was having a good time. There were tributes made to him - sheep, cow, goats galore. You swore you saw him smiling.

・What you absolutely weren't expecting was Benji to INTERACT with Cannibal...

・He brought up a bull from the biggest hoard they had. Benji watched as the dragon practically gulped the animal down. However, he wasn't scared - he was impressed. And intrigued.

・You were absolutely moved by Benji's act. Truly. Because it showed his bravery. His daring. And of course his caring. You knew, you could feel the way Cannibal was feeling - and he trusted this Blackwood.

・So you decided to give him a wedding present. A fly.

・By doing so, you broke down every single one of Benji's walls and he knew you were the one for him. His wife. His firt and only one.

・After a tough day, and you both go to your chambers; he'll grab your arm and kiss your wrist. A physical way of saying "I'm so glad you're alive and mine."

・Learns High Valyrian for you. He wanted to surprise you with it. And surprise you he did.

・You call each other: Ñuha jorrāelagon (my love), Ñuha prūmia (my heart),

・ A very particular sentence that Benji says a lot is: Nyke pendagon nūmāzma ao everyday (I think about you everyday)

・Of course he knows you can protect yourself; but that doesn't stop him from defending you. You're his world now. You mean so much to him.

・No body thought this union would work as well as it had.

・So, Bloody Ben & The Rider of Cannibal became a formidabble pair that made men tremble wherever they went.

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Like Calls To Like

The Gomez & Morticia Adams

"Think they'll try us?" x "Fuck I hope so."

𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊�� 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Unbreakable Bond

Growth through Adversity

Bickering and Banter

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

The Politics & The Life by Daniel Pemberton

O Verona by The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Gives you complete and utter respect both in and out of the bedroom.

・Has never and will never push you to do anything you don't want to do

・The first time you were together, it felt like your bodies were on fire. Meant to burn together. The words kept replaying over and over in your head as he touched you. A deep yearning overtook you and suddenly time stopped.

・His lips were warm, his hands cold but when he took off his clothes, you couldn't help but grin.

・There's such desire between you two that even your mount can sense it.

・Your sex life is very active - at least once a day. Maybe you're in your Honeymoon period, but you cannot keep your hands off one another when you're alone

・And when you're at feasts, Benji's hands find their way down your thigh, and slowing inching inbetween them.

"Really, here? Now?" You asked n a hushed tone, trying not to draw any attention to either of you.

"Yes. Here, now. Or we can go into the hallway and I will ravish you there. Upto you, wife."

[whispering-about-the-tmnt]

Some headcanons regarding TMNT physiology

Over the years, I have come up with some headcanons regarding how I believe the Ninja Turtles' bodies work. I thought that perhaps it might be nice to finally share them with all of you.

These don't apply to all the iterations, of course, but they are pretty well universal in my mind, and I tend to incorporate most of them into my fanfics.

The Turtles (like leatherback sea turtles, echidnas, and some dinosaurs) are mesotherms, meaning they are neither warm nor cold blooded. They are, instead, in a middle-ground: they internally generate heat, but not to a constant temperature. In the Turtles' case, they will shiver when cold, and their bodies will not shut down right away when the temperature dips too low, though they may lose some energy and find it hard to concentrate.

Unlike many other modern reptiles and amphibians, who have a three-chambered heart, the Turtles have four-chambered hearts (like mammals and dinosaurs) that are larger and stronger than average human hearts and located at the center of their chests.

While the average human blood capacity is around five liters, the Turtles have about seven. Much of the blood flows under the shell -- a remnant of their lives as ordinary turtles, whose own blood does so in order to warm them when they bask. This means that the Turtles could lose close to three liters of blood before dying, while a human would only be able to lose two.

Their blood is also highly efficient at clotting, but that also means that storing blood for transfusions is difficult, and so must be directly transfused from one turtle to another in emergency situations.

Owing to their extensive circulatory system, they also have a larger lung capacity than humans and more oxygen-rich blood, and so are able to hold their breath for extended periods of time without adverse effects. Other than this, the Turtles' respiratory system is very much like humans', utilizing a diaphragm to inflate and deflate their lungs.

Like regular turtles, they do not have ribs, but rather their carapaces and plastrons serve that purpose, and they have muscles under their shells that keep their internal organs right where they belong.

Also like regular turtles, their spines curve along the insides of their shells. A direct hit on the center of their shells, then, could cause damage to their spinal column and nervous system, but fortunately their vertebral shields offer a fair amount of protection, so it would take quite an impact.

The Turtles are highly resistant to most infections and diseases, which increases their immunological responses. They do not get sick easily, and they recover quickly.

While their scales are not apparent, they are integrated into their skin, making it tougher than human skin. It takes a very hard hit to raise a bruise, and it is difficult to cut through without a very sharp or pointed blade.

Their bones are similar to humans, but are more resistant to breaking. They also heal quicker and stronger if they are broken.

Their muscles are also very close to human-like, but they are stronger than an average human due to compensating for the extra weight they carry in their shells. Because of this, their ligaments and tendons are also tougher, and it is difficult for them to have a joint dislocated.

Their sense of smell is more acute than humans, but not to an extreme degree. They are also not as bothered by foul smells (though this has more to do with living in a sewer than their physiology).

Their eyes are a bit tougher and more resistant to damage than human eyes due to a protective membrane that covers them. They see a bit better than humans in dark places and underwater.

Their hearing is somewhat more attuned to lower frequencies than human hearing, and is not dependent on external ears but rather an internal auditory system (making direct damage to their hearing unlikely).

They are capable of being knocked unconscious, but it takes a significant impact. Permanent or lingering damage to their brains is unlikely due to their structure, and so they also do not tend to suffer the same side-effects that humans would in the same circumstances (nausea, memory loss, etc.).

Although their nutritional needs are similar to humans, they do not need to eat every day, and in fact can get by quite well without food for a week if necessary (though they won't enjoy it). When food is readily available, however, they will eat as much as possible to store up energy. Their metabolism does not slow down when they do not eat, so overexerting themselves when they haven't had any food for a while can burn them out suddenly.

Their sleep schedules are much like most diurnal animals, though they are able to stay awake for extended periods of time and can get by on little sleep, if necessary. There have been times when they have been awake for days on end, getting by on short one hour naps here and there. In general, though, they like to have a regular sleep/wake cycle.

Like other reptiles, the Turtles never stop growing throughout their lifetimes; however their growth is slow, topping off at about 1-2 inches every five years.

Does anyone have anything they would like to add to the list? I actually had fun compiling it!

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

[x]

Go get their greedy a$$es, CN girlies 👑💯 From my understanding the CN boycott is beginning to move beyond just kittens, slowly spreading out to the rest of the fanbase. Which is great! The more people join, the bigger chance of success.

The fact that the hairstyles and outfits are pulled separately for this banner is asinine. If you look up money hungry in the dictionary, you'll find a group photo of Paperfold's higher-ups.

I am fully onboard with the CN girlies demand for more rewards during grinding. The droprates are extremely low rn and it's unjustifiable.

I think it's fitting to also include this post here showing the struggle players face in endgame

[x]

Like I mentioned in a post of my own, grinding for Dias in endgame is infuriatingly difficult even for whales or dolphins (ie the people that can afford to invest in all 5 LIs). In the long run this will be unsustainable. A change by Paperfold is necessary atp. Remember, they are a multimillion corporation. They can absolutely afford to be more generous. So why aren't they? Answer: they're greedy and, as long as players let them, they will push this behavior as far as they can. To the detriment of their game. They are showing a blatant lack of regard or respect for their playerbase with this stingy behavior.

I personally feel like the upcoming banner — and the separate hair + outfits — is a cash grab by Paperfold. LADS flopped hard in January and now the company are scrambling to recover. So I feel like the course they'll ultimately take in the future hinges a lot on the success — or lack thereof — of this new banner. If it succeeds, well, then they know that all they need to do is throw sexy banners at us and they're off the hook. No need to implement changes. If it tanks however, then they'll have to face the music and listen to their consumers. Rein in their greed. Make things right. Communicate. Treat the LIs equally (this is my hope anyway as a Sylus girly b/c let me tell you it's rough out here). At least this is my assumption. It'd be idiotic of them if they still refuse to heed their customers and ignore the boycott. Especially considering how much their Scrooge McDuck a$$es obviously love money.

Let's hope for the best and, if you can and want to, please do join in on the boycott. The most effective way of doing so is not to spend money during the banner and to refrain from pulling even using red dias or tickets for the first 3 days of the banner period. And also to limit your time on the app during the same timeframe (that is, 3 days). Spread the word. Send a message with your wallet. Don't encourage blatant greed and mistreatment. We as consumers hold more sway than we think. Remember, we are boycotting out of love for this game and a desire to see it thrive for years to come as well as to prevent it from becoming entirely P2P. Because if Paperfold gets away with their current behavior, then more and more players will eventually get turned off by a game that essentially forces you to spend considerable chunks of your hard earned money for the bare minimum. Again, and I'm not saying this lightly, it'll be unsustainable.

[killerplink]

COMFORT

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Words: 2,9k

Plot: You're on your period and feeling all kinds of crampy and grumpy. Dick's already made you a cozy meal, but when the pizza cravings hit, he doesn't hesitate to make it happen.

Dick's all proud of himself, watching you take your first bite, waiting for that little happy hum you always do when something tastes good. That's his favorite part, seeing you enjoy something he made, watching your shoulders relax as you melt into a warm, home cooked meal.

He loves the way your eyes flutter shut when a flavor hits just right, the little wiggle you do when you're especially pleased, the way you lean into the warmth of the food like it's wrapping you up in a hug. It's domestic, it's sweet, and it makes all the effort in the kitchen more than worth it.

He swears, that little hum of satisfaction? It's like the highest form of praise, even better than a thank you. It's like his whole heart swells hearing it, knowing he put a little bit of his love into every bite. It's his thing with you—cooking something up and waiting for that sound like a reward, like a little piece of happiness wrapped up in a soft noise that's just for him.

But then... nothing. No hum, no little wiggle of contentment, not even a pleased sigh. Just you, sitting there, poking at your plate like it personally wronged you, looking guilty as hell. That's his second clue.

The first was when he walked in the door and found your favorite fuzzy blanket crumpled in a sad little pile on the couch, not wrapped around you like it usually is. Then there was the half empty tea mug sitting on the coffee table—your comfort drink—cold and abandoned, which meant you tried to soothe yourself but gave up halfway. All of that put a little thought in his head, a quiet hmmm, but now? Watching you fidget with your fork, pushing the food around without actually eating?

Oh yeah, he has a pretty good idea of what's going on.

"Baby, what's wrong?"

You freeze for half a second, just a split second, but it's long enough for him to catch it. He sees the way your shoulders tense, how you keep your eyes glued to your plate like maybe if you stare hard enough, the question will disappear. Then, you shake your head, mumbling something about how the food is great, that he really outdid himself, and you're just not that hungry tonight.

Mhmm, no. That's not gonna fly with him.

He watches you, eyes narrowing slightly like he's dissecting every detail, his brain slotting the clues together piece by piece. It's not even about the food. It never is when you get like this. It's about you, about whatever's swirling around in that pretty head of yours, tying your thoughts in knots and making you feel like you've got to downplay it.

So he doesn't say anything at first. Just tilts his head a little, gaze soft but knowing, scanning your face as you do everything in your power to avoid looking at him. He can feel the guilt rolling off you in waves, and honestly?

He doesn't even know why you'd feel guilty in the first place. Wanting something else to eat isn't a crime, but you always get like this when you think you're being difficult, even though you're not. Not to him.

So he just waits. One brow raised, head slightly cocked, patience practically radiating off him as he sits perfectly still. It takes ten seconds—maybe fifteen—and then...

"It's really good, baby, I swear, I just..." your voice goes soft, almost sheepish. "I kinda want pizza."

There it is. The way you say it is so small, like you're confessing to some horrible crime, and Dick watches the realization click into place in real time. His whole face softens, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a barely there smile because oh. Baby's on her period. Of course.

And God, he gets it. Cravings are cravings, and sometimes, no matter how good a meal is, your body just wants something else. He's not mad. Not even a little. If anything, he finds it kind of adorable how nervous you got about it. Like he wouldn't gladly throw that food in the fridge, grab his keys, and pick up whatever you wanted. Hell, he'd order three different kinds of pizza just to see you smile again.

His head dips slightly, like he's holding back a fond laugh. "That's all?"

He's already reaching for his phone, thumb pulling up the app for your go to pizza place like it's the most obvious solution in the world. "Why didn't you just say so?"

And that's when you really start fidgeting, squirming a little in your seat like you really don't want him to do that. Your hand reaches for his wrist, fingers curling around it gently.

"Dick, no," you whine, voice soft with guilt. "You cooked."

He pauses, glancing up at you, and yep, there it is. That look in your eyes, the one that says I feel like an ungrateful little shit right now. And really, he should've seen that coming.

Because you know how much effort he puts into cooking for you, how much he loves making sure you're eating well, especially when you're not feeling your best. He cares, puts thought into every meal, every little ingredient tailored to what you like, what you need. And now, here you are, sitting at the table like some kind of traitor, ready to toss his hard work aside just because your hormones decided they wanted something else.

But instead of being annoyed, instead of rolling his eyes or telling you to just eat what's in front of you like someone else might, he just gives you a look. A soft, easy look. The kind that says Baby, you know me better than that.

"Sweet girl," he says simply, flipping his phone so you can see the pizza app. "I don't care. If you want pizza, we're getting pizza. Simple."

And you do want it. God, you really want it. Like you can practically taste the grease and melted cheese just thinking about it.

"But you made such a nice meal—"

"And I can put it in the fridge and eat it tomorrow. Not a big deal."

His fingers slip between yours, squeezing gently, and ugh, it's really hard to argue when he's looking at you like that. He knows how stubborn you are, how you want to show appreciation for the things he does, but right now? All he cares about is making sure you feel comfortable and happy, not guilty over something so small.

"I'd rather you actually eat something you want instead of sitting here feeling bad about it," he adds, voice warm and steady.

Your shoulders drop a little, the tension easing out of you, lips pressing together like you're trying to hold back some kind of emotion. It's dumb—you know he doesn't mind, know he'd bend over backward for you in a heartbeat—but still, the guilt lingers in that annoying little way it always does.

"Okay..." you mumble, voice small. "Pizza sounds really nice."

He smiles. "Yeah?"

You nod, and honestly, that's all he fucking needs.

"Good."

Next thing you know, he's tugging you up from your chair with zero effort, making you squeak as he drags you over to the couch. He plops you down gently, grinning as you blink up at him.

"Alright," he says, already pulling up the menu, "go lay down. I'll order it, and while we wait, I'm grabbing you the heating pad."

"Dick—" you start to protest, "but—"

BOOP. His finger flicks your forehead, just enough to surprise you.

"Shhh," he grins.

You stare at him, stunned, one hand flying up to rub at the barely there flick. "Did you just—"

"Yep," he smirks. "And I'll do it again if you don't stop being difficult."

You huff, but your lips twitch, betraying you. You're not actually mad, and you both know it.

"Let me baby you," he says simply, already turning toward the bedroom. "Just let me."

And ugh, fine. Fine. You sink back into the cushions, arms crossed but face warm, heart doing that soft, fluttery thing it always does with him.

By the time the pizza's ordered, Dick's gone full overachiever mode. You've got a heating pad pressed against your belly, fuzzy socks on your feet, and a cozy hoodie draped over your shoulders—his, obviously, because he knows you love stealing them, especially when you're feeling like crap. And because he can't help himself, he also grabbed your favorite snack, just in case.

When he hands it to you, you stare down at it for a second before mumbling, "You're so nice to me."

He grins, flopping down next to you. "Uh, yeah?" One arm hooks around your waist, tugging you into his side. "You like me, remember?"

And... well, he's got a point.

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings, and you practically launch yourself at the pizza box when he brings it over. First bite? Absolute heaven. You let out a happy little mmm, sinking deeper into the couch, and Dick just sits there, watching you with a soft smile like you're the best thing he's ever seen, pulling a slice for himself, watching you finally relax for the first time all night.

You glance at him between bites, swallowing before mumbling, "You're really not mad?"

He frowns, chewing for a second before swallowing. "Why the hell would I be mad?"

"Because I didn't eat your food."

"Baby," he sighs, setting his pizza down so he can turn toward you fully. His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face toward him. "You don't need to force yourself to eat something just because I made it." His thumb rubs along your jaw, voice warm, low, and sweet. "I like cooking for you because I love you. And if you tell me you don't want something, I'm never gonna be upset about that."

Your eyes drop slightly, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"I just want you happy, sweet girl." Another kiss. "That's the real win in my book."

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, squeezing gently as something warm and annoyingly emotional bubbles up in your chest. Goddamn hormones. But if you're being honest, you think it might be more of a him thing.

For now, though, you let yourself melt into him, sighing when his arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest. You don't even think about it, you just shift closer, hands curling into the soft fabric of his shirt, pressing your face into his collarbone like it's instinct.

And yeah, maybe you're being a little clingy. Maybe you've been clinging to him all night, really, grabbing at his shirt, leaning into his side, frowning whenever he shifts even an inch away. But you don't seem to notice, not fully.

He does, though. Dick loves this part. The way your body automatically seeks him out, the way you hold onto him like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to comfort. Your fingers curl into his shirt, face tucked into the crook of his neck, and he swears his heart melts a little.

You get like this every time, without fail—extra soft, extra needy, extra pouty about everything—and it's cute as hell. Like, impossibly cute. He'd never admit it out loud, not unless he's trying to get that adorable little glare you give him, but he lives for it.

And he knows that if he points it out, if he so much as teases you a little, you'll get all flustered. You'll wrinkle your nose at him, try to pull away, mumbling under your breath about how you're not clingy, you're just tired.

Like you're not literally curled up against him like a little koala, legs tangled with his, clinging like he's the only safe place your body knows how to lean into. But he doesn't say a word about it. Not because he doesn't want to—God, he does—but because he loves this too much to risk you pulling away.

So he just holds you closer instead, running his fingers through your hair, tracing slow, lazy circles against your back. His touch is gentle, soothing, like he's content to stay like this forever. And really? He is.

If you want to spend the whole night tucked into him, being all soft and snuggly, he's not complaining. Hell, he's already planning to pull the blanket tighter around you both, maybe press a kiss to your hair and whisper something low and sweet, just to hear that little content sigh you make when you think he's not paying attention.

The rest of the night is spent on the couch, eating pizza, watching dumb movies, and basking in the fact that Dick Grayson is actually the best boyfriend in the universe. He insists on letting you pick the movie—even if you choose the cheesiest from com or the dumbest action flick—and doesn't complain once.

Not even when you steal the last slice of pizza or hog the blanket. He just grins, pulls you closer, and throws out some playful commentary about the movie that makes you laugh until your cheeks hurt.

And maybe, just maybe, you fall asleep curled up against him, your body warm and soft against his side. You make a soft little sigh in your sleep when he adjusts his hold, and God, it's the kind of sound that tugs at something deep in his chest.

His fingers run lazy patterns down your back—absentminded, slow—and he barely even realizes he's doing it. It's just habit at this point, a way to soothe you, to make sure you stay comfortable. His other hand rests gently on your hip, thumb brushing back and forth as the glow of the TV flickers across the room.

He glances down at you, taking in the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, how peaceful you look nestled against him, and he can't help the soft smile that pulls at his lips. Yeah, he thinks, this is perfect.

There's nowhere else he'd rather be, no place that could ever compare to having you right here, safe in his arms, completely at ease. And even when the credits roll and the room goes quiet, he doesn't move. Not when you're breathing so softly, not when you're so perfectly content.

So he just holds you tighter, presses a tender kiss to your temple, and whispers, "Sweet dreams, baby," like you can hear him, even if you're already lost to sleep.

Because this—this part right here—is his favorite. Taking care of you. Making sure you're okay, making sure you never feel weird about needing him.

Because he knows how you get, how you always feel a little embarrassed when your nightmare periods hit. It doesn't matter how long you've been together; every time, without fail, you try to downplay it.

Like you don't want to bother him, like he's not your boyfriend, like he wouldn't literally drop everything if you needed him to. But the thing is, he would. You always brush it off with a small smile, mumbling something about being fine, but he sees right through it. He always does.

If you need pads, he's out the door without hesitation, keys in hand, grabbing not just the essentials but also your favorite snacks and a heating pad refill, just in case. He knows your go to comfort foods by heart, always remembering that extra treat you try to pretend you don't want but secretly do.

His voice is soft, low and tender, wrapping around you like a safety net. He even heats up your favorite comfort item without you asking, holding it against your belly himself if you're too exhausted to move.

And if you cry because sometimes the hormones hit hard and everything feels overwhelming, he doesn't say a word about it. He just holds you closer, wiping away tears with his thumb while reminding you, "You don't have to be tough for me, you know. Let it out, baby."

No matter what it is, he never makes you feel awkward about it. Never rolls his eyes, never tells you to suck it up, never makes you feel like you're asking for too much. Because to him? You never are.

Never too much, never a burden. You could ask him for the smallest thing, like grabbing a glass of water, or the biggest, like holding you through the worst night of your life, and he'd do it without hesitation.

If anything, he thinks it's an honor to be the person you trust enough to lean on. He wants to be that person. Your person. The one you turn to when things get hard, the one who can make things even a little bit easier. Taking care of you isn't some chore to him, it's something he genuinely loves. Something that makes his heart feel full in a way nothing else does.

So yeah, he smiles. Of course he does. Because taking care of you is his favorite thing to do. Always has been, always will be. And if you nuzzle in closer without even realizing, nose tucked against his neck, breathing him in like he's the safest place you've ever known, complete with soft snores and a tiny bit of drool?

Well, that's just a bonus. His arm tightens around you automatically, thumb brushing soothingly along your back as he lets out a soft breath. There's this warmth that blooms in his chest—a quiet, content kind of happiness that sinks deep into his bones.

He tilts his head just enough to press a gentle kiss to your hair, lingering there for a moment. "God," he murmurs, "I love you so much it's fucking ridiculous."

And yeah, he knows you're asleep, knows you can't hear the words, but he says them anyway—soft, tender, like a little promise.

[variety-fangirl]

Thinking about reader having a tough time, a tough couple of weeks, of just feeling awful. Your mental health had taken a toll and gotten bad again. You weren't exactly sure what specifically set it off this time. It was most likely a combination of things.

Your workload had picked up due to the increase in your rent, which put you financially out some, and you didn't want to bother others with that problem. You would feel too awful to even think of asking. You'd put on some weight due to the late nights and long hours working, so you didn't have as much time to prepare proper or healthy meals, which of course meant you had been snacking on the go. You'd overheard a few of your coworkers make some unkind comments on your weight and how "unkempt" you seemed as of late, whilst they finished early and had a dual income, so they didn't understand. But that had given your demons some fuel to get to work.

You were one of the very first people in and one of the last out. You had finished late every night for the last two weeks, running on caffeine, instant foods, and fumes. You pushed yourself, every day, just to make ends meet and it still didn't seem enough. You had almost fallen asleep a few times at your desk and had to down an energy drink or hurriedly drink coffee to stay awake.

You also had slacked on the household chores, which meant things were more messy and disorganised than you liked. It meant everything felt chaotic. It made things difficult to find when you were rushing around and late. You also felt like your relationship was suffering because of it, which just added the final nail in the coffin. Plus, your boyfriend seemed to be ignoring you as of late. So everything was just too much.

It was finally the weekend. You finally had some days off to do what was neglected through the weeks. You thought you'd start off easy, you did the mounds of laundry that needed washing. But the whole time, you were mentally berating yourself for not doing it sooner. You next cleaned the kitchen, mopping the floor and disinfecting the surfaces. Which is then followed by the living room and dining room. But, again, you just kept thinking about how gross and lazy you were, punishing yourself for not taking care of it.

You were doing mental hoops of insults, all the while making your mood worse and throwing you further into a pit of depression. You spent the whole of Saturday cleaning, putting away, and sorting your solo home out. You wanted to do nothing more than relax, but your brain kept saying how you didn't deserve rest or to relax until everything you'd neglected was completed. You hated it, which made you hate yourself.

It took you 5 hours to do everything. It took all of your energy to force yourself back upstairs afterwards. You still had more to do up there, so you got to it. You sat down on the floor where you had set out the weeks' worth of piles and piles of laundry to put away, but you quickly got frustrated and overstimulated with exhaustion. You just wanted a nap, things to be easier, and to stay on top of things. Was that so much to ask for? Apparently.

The tears began falling and refused to stop. Weeks of pent-up and pushed-down emotions had finally caught up to you and erupted. You were sobbing, loudly and hysterically, as you curled in on yourself and fisted the laundry in your hands. You were tired, so fucking tired. Of everything. You just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up for a while. You knew it wasn't healthy, this lifestyle that was taking absolutely everything out of you, but you didn't know what to do or how to break the cycle to give yourself some reprieve.

But here you were. The fumes that were running on nothingness had finally caved in under the mass of enervations and pressure. You weren't sure how long you sat there wailing and sobbing out your frustrations and complete exhaustion, just holding yourself and pulling at your hair. Your phone had vibrated multiple times in a short period but you just couldn't physically move, you couldn't do anything but weep to your heart's content. Not that you could look at your phone anyway, your vision was blurry from the constant stream of tears.

At some point, you hear the door open and footsteps coming up. Coming straight in your direction. You knew you had never unlocked the door from last night when you came home late. And only one person had a key to your place, your boyfriend. You watched with teary vision as he came around the doorway and walked towards you, pushing the laundry out of the way so he could kneel in front of you.

"W-what are y-you doing h-here?" You gasped out, whimpering about him seeing you in such a state of disarray and collapse. He had never seen you have a breakdown before, he'd naturally seen you cry, but not this bad.

"You butt-dialled me, sweetheart. I was so worried and stressed out that you wouldn't answer me and just kept sobbing. I dropped everything and came straight here. Think I broke multiple speeding laws to get here." He breathlessly chuckles as you giggle sadly through your tears, an accidental whimper following. You feel his hands gently grab your face to look at him.

"Talk to me, my love. What's wrong? Do I need to kill someone for you?" He half-jokes, a look of pure worry filling his beautiful features. You shake your head in his hands as you reach up to grasp his wrists in your palms to ground yourself.

You tearily explained everything to him, spilling all your stresses and worries to the man you love. You knew he wouldn't ever judge you or invalidate your feelings, so you felt comfortable laying everything out for him. He listened, hooked on every word, and patiently worked with you. All while stroking your face lovingly.

Once you were done, you sobbed once more. All the emotions pouring out of you in one go. He made you feel safe and gave you a space to be vulnerable and transparent with him. That was irreplaceable.

He wordlessly pulled you into his lap, manoeuvring you where he wanted you. You just let him, ending up with your face in the crook of his neck and straddling his lap. You immediately latched onto him, wrapping your arms around any part of you could, your hands fisting his clothing for dear life. He stayed there for some time, comforting you with sweet words and back rubs, until you calmed down enough. He was patient and kind, giving you everything you needed.

He eventually picked you up with him as he stood, not once releasing you and walked to your bathroom. He started the water, letting it warm up as he placed you down on the floor. He undressed you slowly, placing feathery kisses in the pattern and traces of where his hands once were on each and every inch of exposed skin, all the while adorning you with compliments and telling you how much he loves you. You were now crying for a completely different reason, but much less aggressively.

Once he finished his worshipping of your body, he undressed himself, discarding both of your clothes in the hamper. (So thoughtful). He then helped you into the shower, following closely behind, and proceeded to wash and massage every bit of you. He completely pampered and worshipped you, from your hair down to your toes. He took his time, being the most gentle and soft that he had ever been with you or anything in his entire life. He made all your stress and worries melt away. He allowed you to wash and tend to him in return after a lot of convincing, expressing you wanted to and it would make you feel better.

You worshipped him in return, not wanting to make everything about you. Especially with how well he was treating you, he always did, but he was extra attentive tonight to help meet your needs.

Once you were both done in the shower, he dried you and carried you into the bedroom. He spent the next hour on top of you and in between your legs. Being slow, affectionate, and gentle. His lips kissed every inch of skin he could while making love to you, wanting to express every bit of his emotions he could to you. You received mindblowing orgasm after orgasm, all while your hands stayed intertwined. And afterwards, you fell asleep on his chest with one of his arms wrapped around you and the other stroking your hair.

You were awoken the next morning with breakfast in bed from your favourite breakfast place, your favourite flowers and a fully cleaned home. Which of course made you cry again but from happy tears. You spent the afternoon in bed, making love and enjoying the calm and happy mood.

By the end of the following week, he was fully moved into your place, after a few months of dating. He made you cut down on your work hours, claiming to handle everything and helped you to keep on top of anything that needed doing. You were so thankful he was yours and didn't know how you would ever repay him.

(Multi) I had Simon, John, Johnny, Gaz, Gojo, Geto, Megumi, Nanami, Marc, Eddie, and Steve, in mind while writing this.

[cobaltperun]

Jerks With Hearts of Gold - Work For It

Request: Tara Carpenter x Female Reader

Summary: The first kiss should not be this difficult to get, yet nothing is ever easy for Tara Carpenter.

Masterlist / Side story of this request

Word count: 2.7k

She could no longer deny it, she could no longer fight it, and she hated every single thing about it. Except she didn't actually hate it, she absolutely loved it, only she would never admit it, especially to anyone other than herself.

Tara Carpenter was in love with a jerk.

How could this have happened? Sure, she wanted to live her life, set aside everything that's happened while being comfortably cautious about which people she let in, but she did not expect to let the biggest jerk of them all in. And if that wasn’t bad enough, she took it not just a step, but a fucking marathon further by falling in love with you. So, there Tara was, lying on her bed facing the ceiling and glaring at it as if she had your face painted right on it. She might as well have it painted there, because that's all she could see when she closed her eyes. Your smiling face, that stupid grin when you prove her wrong, or when you get the upper hand in a debate, or when you just annoy the living hell out of her.

“Jerk,” she muttered as she looked through window that was somehow facing the direction you were in. Of course, you were far away, too far for her to even see your neighborhood from her window, let alone your apartment, but just the fact that she knew she would be looking in the direction of your apartment if she looked outside her window infuriated her. Why did you have to be so good to her? You stopped smoking just for her, and that really was the true start of her downfall. But you couldn’t stop there, could you? Ever since she opened up about the attacks she survived you've been crazy attentive to everything she was feeling, noticing even the minute details about her mood shifts.

Somehow, despite only knowing you for a relatively short period of time, Tara was absolutely certain you wouldn’t turn out to be a Ghostface. Maybe worse than even that was how sure Tara was that if she confessed and you returned her feelings that the two of you would just stay together. That you would never break her trust or her heart.

And that just made her afraid that one day she would do that to you. Because there was that feeling deep inside of her, that thought that maybe she did ruin everything she touched, and that she just wouldn’t know how to let you love her.

Yet at the same time, Tara knew she wanted that kind of love, that almost unconditional love, more than she wanted anything in the world. So, Tara picked up her phone and sent you a message.

~X~

You were bored beyond what you imagined was humanly possible. You were so bored you might actually consider doing schoolwork that was still far from the deadline. That's how bored you were. You weren't in the mood for a movie or some new TV show or a new book or anything that would reasonably take more than a few hours to finish, but you also weren't in the mood to go out and have fun, or go to a stupid party if Tara wasn’t there, or anything of that nature.

Luckily, just as you were about to lament on your ruined night, your phone rang and you jumped to your feet cheering loudly that there was even a smidge of distraction to be had tonight.

You placed your palms together in front of your face praying to whatever higher being that might exist. “Please be Tara, please be Tara, please let me annoy her tonight!” because you would not be that desperate to actually send the message first. Not after sending the first message four times in a row.

You plucked your phone off your charger and the screen lit up and you pumped your fist at your side. “Yes!” you exclaimed. It was Tara. “Oh, I love this girl!” your eyes widened when you said that.

Well, you did love her, and you knew that, and you knew how you loved her, how much, and how intensely. But you haven't really said it out loud and with that sudden realization the urge to annoy her faded away and you just opened the message she just sent you.

Tara: Let's meet up tomorrow

Please I'm bored

Well, that was direct and right to the point, just the way Tara always was, and you grinned like a fool because you would get to see her tomorrow instead of waiting for the next week's classes. So, you replied with a simple ‘Of course! Usual time usual place?’

It took Tara less than a minute to reply, and you've never thought a simple ‘yes’ would make you this happy.

You walked back to the bed and just fell on top of it, still grinning. You loved this girl. You loved her so damn much and she didn't even know it and maybe, just maybe you could confess tomorrow. Just see how it goes. At least you won't be painfully stuck in friendzone and things would be clear, you would know if you should give up on these feelings or if you would just have to wait for some time until she got more comfortable. You understood perfectly well just how difficult opening up would be for Tara, and all you really wanted was to know if there was even the slightest chance that she might one day reciprocate your feelings.

~X~

She must have done something right lately because all of a sudden and without even considering all of those things Tara ended up being really lucky. First of all, she didn't have classes today, Sam was working, and all of her friends had classes, so no one was free to hang out with her. Not even Chad and he was the most relaxed about classes out of all of them. At least before the exams, once the exams were going then he was the one worrying the most.

That would probably be something you and Chad could bond over. You had the same annoying nonchalant approach before the exams only to completely flip it once exams actually started. She still smiled, because somehow, despite everything, she found that endearing.

The usual spot was your code of sorts, for a small secluded spot in the park that Tara found when she first came to New York, back when she felt the need to escape from everything and pretend she was just a normal teenager. And you came to appreciate the spot as well, so instead of hanging out in a café bar or some other place, one of you would get the drinks and the other some snacks and you just go and sit at the park. And it worked well, because not only was it a nice place where she could breathe easier, but it had designated spots for picnic, so that was just another plus in its own way.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she walked through the park toward the place where you would meet up. The basket filled with your favorite food felt a lot heavier than it really was. You weren't really a flowers kind of girl, or rather Tara wasn't, she just felt that would be a bit too on the nose and she wants to be a bit subtle about everything. Although… There was nothing subtle about being twenty minutes early.

She picked a good spot for the picnic. The one with a nice shade, far enough from the people walking through the park, and light fresh breeze blowing through her hair bringing in the scent of the flowers blooming in the park.

“Guess we are both early,” Tara jumped when she heard your voice and flipped around to see you standing there sheepishly rubbing the back of your head, all the while holding a bag filled with a couple of bottles of probably juice if she had to guess. You were kind of boring like that, not really consuming alcohol, but she guessed that would make Sam like you more because you weren't some party animal.

“Damn it, you scared me!” Tara put her hand over her chest trying to calm her heart rate down. Getting scared was not one of her plans for the day!

Your eyes widened and immediately she could see the guilt on your face. “I'm sorry! I should have texted you or something, I just didn't want you to rush if you weren't here and-“ you facepalmed, you didn’t forget about anything, you just got eager to see her and she wasn’t expecting you. “God, I'm such a fool for scaring you like that!” there you were being the caring, gentle dumbass she fell in love with.

Tara smiled widely, unable to restrain her reaction. “Hey, it's fine, come on, let's just sit down and start this again, OK? Shit, look at us,” Tara laughed as you joined her, still looking at her apologetically. “We're like two teenagers trying to go on their first date instead of hanging out as friends,” she chastised herself and you to an extent because you were both nervous and she couldn't wrap her head around why you were nervous. She was the one who intended to confess her love for you… unless…

No, that couldn't be right.

The two of you knelt down on the blanket and began taking things out of the bag you brought, and the basket Tara brought. “You really went all out! And it's all homemade!” you commented, and Tara just knew you could see the blush on her face.

You only complimented her cooking, once granted she only cooked for you once, and ever since then has been practicing, wanting to impress you once more.

“I just grabbed the leftovers,” of course she wasn’t going to tell you the truth. She would die of embarrassment if that happened, but you knew, you probably knew every single time she uttered a ridiculous lie just to save face.

You snorted at that. “Of course, of course, I wouldn't dare to imply the great Tara Carpenter would prepare food for an occasion this beneath her,” you laughed and despite the joke you just said something just didn't feel right about it. It annoyed Tara more than she ever imagined it would. She just hated that there was a certain sense of self-deprecation within your voice.

So, Tara reached up, grabbed you by the chin and pulled you closer. “Don't you dare ever think that,” she leaned in, intending to kiss you and get all of this confession bullshit out of the way, and just show you how she felt instead. But then you smirked and pulled away from her and her hand was just left hanging in the air, empty, while her lips remained stuck, slightly pursed as she intended to kiss you.

“Work for it, Carpenter,” you did not just say that. You did not just deny her of the kiss she wanted for so damn long.

“What the fuck?!” Tara just stared. You actually did that to her. “Work for it? How do I- I mean- You know-“ she paused, taking a deep breath. “Was I reading this all wrong,” she gestured between the two of you. “And you actually don’t feel the same way? Y/N, I can take it if you don't feel the same way, I'm not some-“

You interrupted her by placing the tip of your finger on her lips and snickering and now she was just confused. “I do feel the same way, I love you too, Tara,” you said it so easily even if she didn't, even if she wasn't all that sure she could say those three words anytime soon, despite how genuinely she felt them. “I just want you to work for the kiss. You've been a pain in my eyes for so long, I deserve this!” you laughed and took a bite of the sandwich she so carefully prepared, choosing all the ingredients you loved, and here you were saying she had to work for the kiss.

“What do you even mean by work? How?! Tell me how?!” she demanded red in the face from the anger and the embarrassment and because she was denied of what she wanted and like a petulant child that was suddenly rejected she was just about ready to throw a tantrum.

And that wasn't like her. She was denied so many things as a child, it wasn't in her nature to throw a temper tantrum, yet with you she really felt like that. She felt like the way you were loving her, even when you were just friends, was allowing that child within her to come out for perhaps the first time in her entire life.

“Ask for it, you can’t just take it,” you winked at her. “Come on, now, Tara, all you have to do is ask,” oh, you were enjoying this. You got your victory. You knew she felt the same way that you did before you even uttered a single word and here you were eating it all up like the menace you were.

“I'm just not gonna do it,” Tara pouted and refused to look at you even if she knew you would just shrug and keep eating the sandwich.

“Whatever works for you,” you were being way too nonchalant about this and she should have been elated that you felt the same way that she did, but this was infuriating in so many ways. Of course it had to be like this with you it couldn't be just an easy, simple confession, followed by a soft kiss, followed by a passionate kiss that would threaten to consume both of you. No, it had to be this complicated and difficult because that's who you were and that's who she was. She was Tara fucking Carpenter and every single thing in her life just had to be complicated.

Well not this time.

“Let me kiss you,” she leaned in and you burst out laughing backing away once more not allowing her to claim her reward.

“That's not how you ask, dumbass,” you just laughed and sure, fine, she could play that game too.

“I want to kiss you,” you were still leaning away and she faked a smile, speaking through gritted teeth. “Come on, Y/N, people are watching. They're looking at me leaning closer to you and you are not working with me here,” she was working hard for it and she had the right to her hard-earned reward.

“Not the magic word, Tara,” surely you weren't going to make her actually ask for it! You loved her back, why was this so complicated! She even licked her lips to tempt you, and she saw you looking down on her lips, she knew you wanted to kiss her as well! You just weren't giving in.

Fuck…

“Please, can I kiss you?” there. She asked. You smiled and didn't back away as she leaned in and that was all she needed to just go in and press her lips against yours for a heated, passionate kiss. And when she pulled back, she truly was rewarded by getting to see you being a stuttering, embarrassed mess. “Cat got your tongue?” she asked and stuck her own tongue at you, the tongue that was mere seconds ago inside of your mouth because of course she couldn't go for a soft kiss for the very first kiss. She had to be intense with everything that's included.

Especially with this because you deserved to be loved just as intensely as you loved her.

Safe to say you failed to construct a proper sentence for the next twenty or so minutes. Frankly she was impressed it only took you that long to get your composure back and actually start putting words together in a way that made sense.

[dresshistorynerd]

Sewing 1890s Day Dress in Doll Scale

I went slightly overboard with this second historical doll project. Here's my first one. The style is from around 1897 and more of a middle class style. As with my first doll outfit, I tried to stick to historical methods as much as possible, but the scale forced me to do some deviations. I hand-sew everything though sewing machine was already widely used, because in this scale it's easier to control the stitch, there's not that much to sew anyway and also I just really like hand-sewing. Here's all the items I made. As said, I went a little overboard. One thing that's missing is the corset cover, but the layers of fabric were creating enough bulk on the waist as is so I decided to not make one.

This time I decided to try repainting the face. I don't have any doll customization materials, so I used acrylics. After couple of attempts I got decent results. Acrylics can't make as smooth and delicate finish as pastels, pencils and gouache, which can be used on vinyl with basing sprays, and I'm not experienced with painting small details on 3D objects, so it's a bit smudged at points, especially with the other eye. I aimed for 1890s very neutral make up and the type of expression that was popular in fashion plates and other illustrations.

Undergarments

Combinations and stockings

The combinations are split crotch as they were in the period. They are from thin cotton voile I have a lot of and is very appropriate. I didn't have really tiny enough lace for this, so it's kinda bulky, but I think it's okay enough. The stockings are cotton knit, which fits well. The garters are not actually necessary for this doll since her legs are rubbery.

Corset

I made the corset from a firm-ish linen and satin rayon pretending to be silk as the fashion fabric. The stitching of the boning channels is not super neat, this fabric is very unforgiving, I didn't have exactly matching thread and the scale made it very difficult. I of course didn't have tiny busk, so I used small hooks, sewed thread loops for them and used narrow metal wire for the edges. I think it looks surprisingly right on the outside. I used the same wire as the boning to reinforce the lacing on the back. I didn't actually use boning elsewhere but the tightly packed linen edges in the boning channels kinda work like lighter boning. I think it keeps the shape pretty ways even with just that. I stitched cotton tape inside to shape the corset further. I also didn't have tiny metal eyelets so I hand-sewed the lacing holes.

Bustle pad

The bustle pad is from linen and stuffed with tiny cabbage.

Petticoat

The petticoat is from the same cotton as the combinations.

Outer wear

Skirt

The fabric is cotton half-panama. It's pretty thin, but firm. I would have liked to use a woven wool, but I didn't have any that's thin enough to work in this scale. I think this cotton looks close enough in this scale to a wool with a tight weave, so I'm imagining it's that. My problem was that the cotton was white, but I wanted light brown. I wasn't going to buy any fabric for this, so I did the reasonable thing and dyed it with red onion peals (I've been doing natural dye experiments so this worked well for me).

Shirtwaist

The shirtwaist is from the same cotton as the undergarments. Yes, I dyed it too. I didn't have thin enough cotton in a color that would fit with the skirt and the purple bow, so I dyed it light blue with fabric color. Since I already went the trouble of dyeing I decided I might as well make a small flower print to it since that was popular in the era. I didn't want it to jump out too much but the lighting makes it even less visible. I made it with a white fabric pen. The collar and cuffs are reinforced with linen. I also sewed small stick-like beads to the cuffs on both sides, so one acts as a button (I sewed a buttonhole too) and the other makes it look like they are cufflinks. The bow is from the same fabric as the corset and the belt is sewn from the same cotton as the shirtwaist. The buckle is from a barbie belt.

Waistcoat

The waistcoat is from the same fabric as the skirt, thought the lapels and the back are from another satin rayon. I tailored the front panels and the lapels by stitching the linen interlining with tailor's stitches (I don't remember if that's the correct word in English) into shape. There is some wonkiness on one side of the hemline for some reason.

Boots

I made the slightly insane decision to make the shoes fully from leather, like they would have been in the period. I had an old broken leather wallet I had saved in case I needed some leather scarps. It has fairly thin leather, so it was workable here. It's light brown though, so I used black shoe polish to darken it. I wanted black or very dark brown shoes. I stacked the heels from glue and leather pieces and carved them into the right shape and sewed the shoe itself to leather shaped as the sole and glued it to the heeled and shaped sole. After I had shaped the shoes and the heels as much as I could I painted the heels black.

[swagyalastorwife]

Vi,Caitlyn,Jinx x reader!who has these periods❤️🩸

A/N: hiiiiiiii guyssss (^-^)/❤️sooo i wrote this fanfiction based on the results of last time's vote and sorry for the spelling mistakes 😭🤣

⚠️warning ⚠️: none (^.^)

Vi🥊

♡ From the second you tell her, she'll go out and buy you everything you need.

♡ REALLY everything.

♡ Do you want chocolate? She'll buy it for you, cake? "Here, my love!"

♡ If you have a painful period, she'll make you a hot water bottle and put it on your stomach.

♡ She'll cuddle you all day long.

♡ And if you don't want for cuddles, she'll respect your choice and leave you alone.

♡ You'll never want for anything!

♡ She'll insist you take a nap so you can rest a little.

♡ She worries way too much about you; she wants you to feel good, even during this difficult time of the month.

♡ If you have mood swings, she won't say anything and will let it happen.

♡ Are you mad because she broke a glass, so you yell at her? She won't say anything and will apologize for not upsetting you further.

♡ A few minutes later, you'll come back to her crying and will apologize .

♡ She'll laugh a little and hug you, reassuring you and telling you that everything's fine.

Jinx💣

♤ She won't do anything. I mean, it's normal for all women to have their periods, and it's not like this is your first time getting your period?

♤ Well, no, just like VI, she will take care of you and do everything to make you feel comfortable.

♤ If your period is painful, she will cuddle you and tell you that everything is fine and that the pain will pass.

♤ If your stomach still hurts, she will give you a box of medicine to soothe the pain.

♤ Then she will go buy you all the food and, of course, she will eat it too.

♤ If you have mood swings, she will do her best not to get angry because she knows it is not your fault.

♤ Despite everything, she loves you, and even if she doesn't say it, she shows it with her actions.

Caitlyn🗡

♧ You are literally a queen.

♧ You have EVERYTHING you want the second you ask for it.

♧ If your stomach hurts too much, she'll give you medicine and make you a hot water bottle.

♧ If you don't want to cuddle her, she'll understand and respect your decision but will always stay by your side.

♧ If you have mood swings, she'll let you yell at her and reassure you if you cry.

♧ To be honest, she loves seeing you with your mood swings.

♧ She finds you so cute and funny.

♧ I'm pretty sure she'll keep a little journal in which she writes down all the moods you've had throughout the day.

I hooope you like iiit (^-^)/❤️💙💜

[loveemagicpeace]

🎸Mars Energy🎸

⚡️Mars is a powerful figure in mythology. Mars on me represents the principle factor, the energy we need to make us encourages to action. It gets us out of bed every morning and helps us achieve our goals throughout the day. It is also our representation of masculinity, as Venus is our representation of femininity. Both men and women need a well-functioning Mars to feel that we are powerful and that we have life in our hands. Mars needs challenges, and not just in battle or dispute, but also in physical activities, such as competitive games and sports or any field, at with which we can flex our muscles and compete with others to win. Like Venus, Mars is also associated with the sexual attraction and sexual relations, and both planets they reveal us approach to sexuality and courtship. In this, Mars especially delights in pursuit and conquest.

⚡️Unlike Venus, it is not relationship-oriented and can lose interest as soon as it conquers an object/person. Unless he runs into competitors then he starts fighting. The energy of Mars indicates how we behave and react. How we compete, how we win someone over and what our charm is. Mars shows how we keep our vibrancy and energy alive. The position of Mars in the chart shows our way of pursuing (the object & person we want). Mars is an indicator of what kind of men, and Venus, what kind of women we get involved with. Although many times relationships are influenced by both.

Mars is known for its lust for dominance, but it can be overbearing and tempting to impose one's will on others. Mars represents our primal passions, inclusive with anger. But Mars can also get you in trouble sometimes. It is important to release our anger. This is very important for our health, because we can get seriously ill if we suppress these energies. Suppressing anger is a matter of course associated with health problems such as stress and depression. The ability to exercise our will and achieve what we want is a talent in itself that we have to learn. After a period of learning from mistakes we start in our thirties and forties after we tend to use Mars more skillfully to our advantage.

🎡Aries Mars is particularly monotonous, spontaneous and quick to act according to his will. It can also catch fire spontaneously,and explosive moments are followed by calm ones, because anger usually does not last long. You have a fiery and strong approach to your desires. Usually when you want something you want to get it by any means. When it comes to competition, you are very competitive and forget about others. You put more emphasis on physical pleasure.

🦋Scorpio Mars has a strong will, but he has more control over the planning and execution of his actions, so he is more precise and efficient. Mars in Scorpio is usually expressed with the words and emotions, and less with fighting. Sexual expression is important for both signs, but Mars in Scorpio loves more emotionally. When it comes to love, he becomes very self-sacrificing. He will do anything for the person he loves. But when he is deceived, he can become your worst enemy. He is intense, passionate, combative and persistent, but his energy only shows when he really feels someone.

🧁Mars in mutable watery Pisces will be rather gentle and passive and will find it difficult to express itself decisively. He may hold back his anger so as not to upset others, and he may act less directly, he may even act like a victim to make others feel guilty and let us get our way. But many times you can make emotional sacrifices for other people or give them too much and then you are disappointed. Mars in Pisces is at its best when alone. You can isolate yourself a lot from other people.

🥨Mars in an earth sign, such as fixed Taurus, can be very calm and slow to respond, but with slow and patient steps he advances towards what he wants. Like a bull, it can be charged with enormous energy and charge at an attacker when angered or threatened. Mars in Taurus can also be very passionate and lustful, which makes him an emperor an exquisite and extremely patient lover.

✨Capricorn mars tends to be very competitive when it comes to business, success, money, reputation. You will want to achieve the biggest and be the best. When it comes to love, they can be quite cold sometimes. Many times they can put the business before the person. Their anger is usually not expressed, many times they keep it inside. Their nature is not so much focused on several things but on only one. It's the same in love - you like to invest in someone who seems stable and worth your time. They are not people who like to go on dates.

☁️Cancer Mars they have a very emotional response to things around them. You can hurt them quickly. They like to invest their time in their family, people close to them. They don't like average relationships. Many times their energy is emotional. Their anger is responsive in many ways but can also change quickly. They are a sign that can quickly forgive (even if it doesn't seem like it at first). They love stalking people. And when they want something, they will go anywhere to get it. They can do some pretty crazy stuff.

🥤Virgo Mars show practicality, decision-making and thinking. They know how to work hard for what they want if their desire is very strong. They put a lot of emphasis on hygiene, health, routine and lifestyle. They tend to dislike people who smoke or have strange habits. Many times they notice little things in people. They devote a lot of energy to staying in good health, but that's precisely why they can get sick. Because they can deal with it too much.

🥊Sagittarius Mars their energy is manifested through the will to live. They are the people who will always make you smile and make you feel that there is only one life and you can make the most of it. Spontaneous people and many times make an impulsive decision, which many times turns out to be good. They laugh a lot and are optimistic. They give a lot of energy to travel, spirituality, playfulness, learning, new things. Their approach is often optimistic, although they can have a lot of anger behind it. However, since this is a fiery sign, they can be impulsive, react violently, directly, rudely. They are tough opponents and when they set a goal they will achieve it. They can be very competitive when it comes to something they are passionate about. Or when it comes to a person who means a lot to them. They are not afraid to confront people and will always want quick actions and reactions. They almost never get sick, but that's because they are optimists.

🪂Leo Mars their energy is manifested through a passion for playfulness, childhood, fun. They put a lot of effort into having fun and enjoying the things they love. They have many hobbies. They can be possessive and jealous, but they won't show it right away. A lot depends on the energy they want to feel with the person. When they notice that the person they want has fans, they will become even more competitive. They will be most competitive in sports or love. Many times they will want to conquer you with their dominance. They are not afraid of challenges and will step into them without fear if they are mature enough. They are fighting and persistent in themselves. Actions count for them.

🎢Gemini Mars their energy is very mutable. They are all over the place most of their time. And they need a lot of change but they are most good with words than actions. They will talk much more than actually do. They can be very unstable and change their mind many times. They will often compete when it comes to verbal duels. Even at school, they know how to compete. Their health fluctuates because they can become quite anxious at times or think too much about things they cannot change. They can seduce you with mind games.

🫧Libra Mars their energy usually shows through the relationships but can be different kind of relationship it doesn't meant to be like romantic relationship. It can be friendships. If they are not in a relationship, they can give a lot of their energy to their friends. Their anger is usually passive aggressive. They often avoid conflicts because they like peace. Their passive aggressive behavior can lead to them getting sick (because they keep too much anger inside). It is good for them to express their feelings and anger as much as possible.

⛸️Aquarius Mars their energy is focused on humanitarian matters (they like to help others), dreams, goals, social networks. They like to do the things they like. They also like to be alone. They have rebellious kind of anger so they will fight for the rights or people they love or things that are connected to them. But they are not people who fight about I don't know some random stuff. They have the unique way how to seduce people and it's always different. They can also seduce you with their uniqueness or something about that is so different and this is why people are attracted to them somehow. They can work a lot on staying in shape and following themselves. Because they can get sick unexpectedly. Many times the diseases are very strange.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🍸🎸🧁

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Courting

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

I get asked a lot about courting, what's acceptable or what's off limits and how one may woo a prospective spouse. So let's explore how to win the hand and heart.

Meeting (not so cute?)

Firstly, it is really difficult to have a meet cute in the Edwardian era. Women and men are kept separate for most of the day, only really getting to meet at designated events: A dinner, a ball, a social event. Meeting in the park is a cute idea but a gentleman can't just approach a lady (or another gentleman) without being introduced by a third party, either a senior party or a mutual friend. However, an introduction at a ball is sort of like Cinderella's get up, it ceases to matter when the ball is over. Your gentleman must not approach a lady after that ball, he must be reintroduced. Once an introduction has been made, he can speak with her.

An Interest

When an introduction has gone satisfactory, a gentleman must make the first move by calling to her parents'/guardian's home and making a formal request to begin courting. Her parents/guardians must consent, usually leading to a short brief interview of the gentleman's family, his connections, his wealth (though in not so vulgar terms, they may inquire where he lives which is an indicator). The woman's opinion did matter, she could give her reasons for accepting or turning down the offer. When the interest is approved, the gentleman can start offering invitations.

Three's Company

Of course, just because the parents agree, doesn't mean the couple gets to be alone. The young lady will be accompanied by a chaperone either a lady's maid, a governess, her mother or another female relative. While the couple is together, the chaperone will always be a few steps behind or have them in sight. She's there to ensure that nothing more than a conversation happens. This is not only for her young lady's reputation but also to save the man from any claims of impropriety. The chaperone also serves as a sort of spy, gauging whether this relationship is worth pursuing.

Activities & Tokens

A gentleman may invite a lady out to lots of different activities. He can invite her for a promenade at a local park or gardens, out the theatre, visit her at home, invite her to galleries, to balls or to be his companion at sporting events such as the races, tennis matches or boat races. When visiting in the house, the gentleman would be expected to speak with all the family, be polite and courteous. This is how the family guages his suitably. The gentleman must provide transportation and funds for any excursion. Gifts are to be refined as well. Expensive gifts are considered vulgar and will likely be turned down. Small gifts such as flowers, books, cakes are acceptable. Gifts aren't as important as the time spent together.

Rules of Engagement

There are certain unspoken rules surrounding courtship that every gentlemen must follow for a successful courtship:

A gentleman should always pay attention to his lady, and not exclude her or cast her off for others

A gentleman never smokes in front of his lady nor forget to remove his hat.

A gentleman must always offer to refresh his lady on an excursion

A gentleman must defend his lady from any offense be it an insult or a scene unfit for her eyes or within an argument. Throwing in an apology for any offense can add a cherry on top.

However if she's the one giving offense, without any reason, the gentleman must seek to create peace, apologising on her behalf.

When walking, a lady will be placed in the inside of the pavement.

A gentleman should never spend above his means to impress his lady. Staying within his means is not only smart but a show of restraint and a glimpse of what life ought to be if they marry.

A gentleman should always offer his assistance when a lady is exiting a carriage or going up a flight of steps or carrying anything heavy.

If a man accompanies a woman to a ball, he's expected to dance with her on her first and last dances of the evening.

A gentleman must always make his intentions known and not string a lady along with no intention of marriage. He must never joke about his intentions or lead her on.

Marriage

Courtship usually promises marriage which is why a gentleman or lady should not enter into courtship unless they would consider marriage. Courtship may last a few months or a few weeks and while it is going on, both sides should consider whether marriage would be a viable option of either of them. Parents/guardians would be consulted, the gentleman must make his intentions known to her father or nearest male relative before approaching the lady and popping the question. A courtship that doesn't end in marriage is seen as a failure and may damage the reputation of both parties, leading people to wonder what happened and who is to blame. For example is a perfectly eligible gentleman will not marry a perfectly eligible lady or she turns down his offer, people will usually leap to the conclusion that there is something lacking.

LGBTQIA+ Courting

Gay people have always been here. They have courted and they have loved. Whilst it was illegal in this time in many parts of the world, love did prevail. (fun fact: lesbianism wasn't illegal because nobody wanted to explain what it was to Queen Victoria). The good thing to know is that courting whilst gay was likely easier in this period. Whilst there were restrictions and rules for straight couples and chaperones haunted their every step, none of this would happen if two people of the same gender stepped out together. Two gentleman going to the opera together or dining at a restaurant or attending a ball together (dancing in public was unlikely) or two ladies promenading in the park or attending a concert would not be examined like a courting couple. They would have more freedom to move around but of course, with legal impediments PDA was kept a minium. Whilst they wouldn't be allowed to marry legally, there was little stopping couples from moving in together. Nobody would say much about two spinsters sharing a home or two bachelors crashing together

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Bolinus brandaris [S. R]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

and by public demand, part. 2

summary: Reid loves the gift you just gave him and the whole team can notice.

"Everyone ready to go back?" Gideon asked, taking a quick look at the jet to make sure all of you were there. You had an extortion case quite far from home, Miami to be exact, and you had a long flight back to Quantico, so the last thing he wanted was to forget someone.

Miami was a beautiful place that you would have liked to visit in other circumstances, that had nothing to do with crimes at all, since you had always felt a certain weakness for the warm climate, the sticky breeze, and the sound of the waves that were on the beach.

You had only had the chance to go to a mall to buy a new outfit, because yours had been completely ruined, while Morgan took advantage of the wait to buy an ice cream popsicle. It hadn't been a dream ride, but it was something at least.

“I feel like I could sleep for 90 hours straight,” you sighed, closing your eyes and falling into Spencer's side as usual. You two were the youngest, he was younger than you of course, so it was easier to connect with him than the other members of the team. You seemed to have similar interests and he was strangely comfortable with you.

“You would actually need to wake up periodically to expel fluids or you would risk bursting your bladder or even your bowels, because even though your digestive system shuts down when you sleep it only does so for a certain number of hours. Maybe you could sleep for 14 or 17 hours, which is what a baby sleeps, but 90 seems excessive to me even if you do not consume drinks or food before doing so”

"It's an expression, Reid" you laughed, but without the intention of making him feel bad for having answered you that way. Sometimes it was necessary to explain to him that you weren't being serious, as obvious as this seemed.

"You can sleep through the whole trip" he argued and although you still had your eyes closed you assumed that he had shrugged "I'll wake you up if you start snoring"

"I don't snore!" you defended yourself, playfully smacking him on the arm and hearing him laugh. Somehow watching him led you to remember a chain of events ending in the package you had carefully stowed in your bag and you almost jumped out of your seat the next second: "Wait, I just remembered something" you reported and went to the baggage area to rummage through your suitcase, taking just a few minutes to be back in your seat “I bought you this”

"Me?" he asked in disbelief. The others were on their own business enough to notice your conversation, making the moment a bit more private.

“I looked at it and just thought of you. Although I don't know if you're going to like it” you said shyly, handing him something wrapped in a paper bag with a store sticker on it. You had found the gift when you went shopping for your clean outfit and a part of you had been anxious all day to be able to give it to him to watch his reaction.

Reid looked at it curiously and handled it carefully, as if he were afraid it would fall apart in his fingers, until he managed to open it and took a piece of cloth from it.

"A scarf?"

“I saw you in one the other day and I thought you might like them. You know, you always wear your vests under your coats and your ties and you're always overdressed, but in a cute way” you laughed, while you pointed your hands at your body pretending to touch the pieces of his outfit "But it's okay if you don't want to wear it"

"No! I mean yes. I want to use it” he reassured you. Spencer held it out to look at it more carefully: it was purple, a stripe in the middle of patterned colored rhombuses intertwined with some embroidery of branches with leaves in black. "Did you know that the color purple is related to royalty because of how difficult it was to obtain the pigment before the Christian era? It is obvious that artificial dyes didn’t exist at that time, so everything they dyed the fabrics with had to be obtained from nature and that particular tone was quite difficult to obtain because it came from Bolinus brandaris, an extremely rare species of sea snail. To obtain 1 gram of this substance it is necessary to have 10,000 snails. And that gram was barely enough to dye a small piece. Its value and the difficulty in mass-producing it is due to the fact that the substance obtained had to be left to dry in the sun for a very precise time to be used later. Half a kilo of wool dyed in that color cost what would now be equivalent to around 300,000 euros,” he said, still holding the scarf as he rambled on. "It is also related to liturgical attire, it symbolizes power, wisdom, and is the perfect combination between the energy of red and the calm of blue”

“Oh yeah, I… I knew all that before I bought it, I didn't choose it just because I think purple brings out your eyes” you blatantly lied, making your friend laugh tenderly.

“What I meant to say is that I like it” he added, a little embarrassed by the smile and attention with which you had been observing him. You always did that when he wandered off, leaving him helpless and not knowing how to react.

"You said it has to do with wisdom, right?" you exclaimed and he nodded gently "Do you think there's some weird psychological reason why my brain knew that and linked it to you or was it just a coincidence?"

"Well, it's hard to explain..." he began to say, turning a little in his seat to be closer to you and begin a long explanation about the connections that our brain creates with things and people.

You were completely exhausted but you didn't have the heart to stop him from saying anything he had to say and you listened intently as much as your body would allow, until eventually you were lulled to sleep by the sound of Spencer's soft voice. When he stopped hearing your hums he realized that you had already fallen asleep and he moved your body carefully until you were completely reclining on the chair, so that when you woke up the physical pain of sleeping on the plane would be less. He, for his part, stayed in the seat next to you sheltered your rest, and at some point ended up asleep too.

The day after she came back from Miami, Spencer was already wearing the scarf you gave him. He had matched it with a brown coat, a vest in a darker shade of purple than the scarf, and a white shirt that together made him look perfect. Also, his well-brushed straight hair fell to the side and his tanned skin looked particularly clean.

You didn’t need to tell him anything because the smile you gave him when you looked him up and down was reason enough for him to be flattered and also proud to receive your approval. All day you watched him, a bit for the garment and a bit for the very pleasure of admiring him, and you noticed that he frequently checked that everything about him looked good, as if he was trying to impress you. Every time he spoke he avoided looking at you, only at you, but you couldn't take your eyes off him.

The day after that he used it too and the next day and the next, to the point where it was strange to see him go anywhere without it, as if it had become a part of him. After a week, while they waited in the boardroom, Elle finally had the courage to face the situation and ask Spencer why the particular choice for something for everyday use.

"It's that his girlfriend gave it to him" answered Morgan, before the brunette could say anything.

"What? No! Y/N is not my girlfriend” he said, completely embarrassed and making sure with his eyes that you weren't around to hear that.

"Oh, now I understand" JJ joined the conversation.

"You understand what?"

“You are always taking care that it doesn’t get dirty or stained”

"Yes, I don't like my clothes to get ruined"

"But more so if it's something his girlfriend gave him" insisted Morgan and in a fit that no one expected Spencer took a ball of paper and threw it at his face. That just got a collective laugh.

"I just like it. That's all”

"We all know you like her, Reid," added Hotch, who had kept quiet thus far and didn't even look up from the files. He flushed red to the ears as the rest of the team shared another laugh, and just seconds later you and Gideon walked through the door.

"Good morning"

"Good morning" answered the others, like school children before the arrival of a teacher. There was one seat left next to Morgan that Gideon took and that forced you into the only remaining chair between Elle and Spencer.

“Did I miss something interesting?” you murmured, leaning into him and smiling close to his face.

"No" he replied kindly, feeling your gaze drop from his eyes.

"Your scarf," you said, reaching out your hands to move it a little around his neck "It was out of place"

Everyone else, except for Gideon, shared knowing glances and stifled giggles as they watched the nervous way he thanked you. It didn't help too much that for the entire meeting you were completely distracted looking at your partner next to you, making the whole team wonder when the two of you were finally going to end up kissing.

[petermorwood]

Recent article on NPR about the history of artificial light somewhat frustrated me -- they portrayed all of pre-kerosene history as dark and heinously expensive at all times. Thing is, the writers based their findings solely on tallow candles, & ignored oil lamps, beeswax candles, clever use of refraction & outdoor light including moon/starlight... Also seemed to ignore the ubiquity of hearths / cook fires. Was wondering if you'd be willing to talk about non-tallow light? This isn't to ignore that truly, artificial lighting WAS much more difficult & expensive for much of human history, but acting like tallow candles were the ONLY light source seems very silly! (Plus your other lovely post about bottles of water used to make those candles more efficient via refraction & focus)

I'm betting the article you mean is this one - which refers back to this one.

For matching reference, my own posts about period lighting are here, One and Two, including observations about painting walls white, how to light candles and lamps without matches, and several other matters.

*****

It didn't take too much listening before I got tetchy, because the first half of this podcast seems more about mocking how WEIRD and PRIMITIVE old-time people were, than passing on any useful information.

Despite the presence of Jane Brox (author of "Brilliant: The Evolution of Artificial Light") whale oil only gets touched on in passing, and olive oil isn't mentioned at all.

Instead she starts talking about using oily seabirds (stormy petrels) as "candles", despite this scholarly study concluding that it was something talked about far more than done, besides being so very, very localised that its relevance to the history of lighting is very, very small.

But hey, WEIRD and PRIMITIVE, right?

*****

By contrast, making candles was so commonplace that it was another of those jobs which created surnames. Fletcher once put feathers on arrows, Cooper made barrels, Fisher, Miller, Baker and Farmer are obvious, and Chandler used to make candles.

Lampier, of course, made lamps, which helped keep those naked candle-flames away from anywhere they shouldn't touch. The man on the left is making the lantern bodies, the one on the right is shaving sheets of horn as windows.

It's cheaper than glass, less easily broken yet is translucent enough, when shaved properly thin, to give quite adequate light.

*****

The podcast has a digression about measuring the light output of a reproduction Ancient Babylonian lamp. Here's an original and a repro.

Yet that too says nothing about what fuel the lamp is or should be burning - olive oil, traded all over the Mediterranean by ancient olive-growing cultures.

These are Roman oil-lamps, from simple and cheap to elaborate and costly.

As for beeswax, so far as the podcast is concerned might as well not exist, despite being a by-product of honey, which was THE principal pre-sugar sweetener for centuries when not being made into all that mead whose existence, production and quaffing nobody questions.

Oh yeah, and then there was the amazed discovery (2:40 / 1:25, depending on which you're listening to) that melted beef fat "...smells really nasty, like, ANIMAL nasty,"

Why is this guy surprised? It's part of an animal!

*****

It's the same sort of infotainment ignorance as displayed by this TikTok twit, right up to complaining about the effort involved in preparation of anything because not having powered appliances was so labour-intensive, oh woe. Yes, it was, welcome to any historical period before about 1920. That's where "the daily grind" originates.

However the implication (listen, it's there) that cattle were raised just to provide fat for candles is ludicrous. The fat was a by-product, not a main one, and was often a butcher's side-line, while members of the Chandlers' Guild only worked with superior beeswax.

I don't think you could make candles like these with tallow:

...and you definitely couldn't make one meant to be hand-held.

Picture evidence shows, by their clothing, the class of society who bought these, and tallow-greasy fingers would have been a no-no.

A Chandler didn't make individual candles. By the time that fresh batch is hung up, the first batch away down at the end is cool enough to be dipped again.

A chandler's shop in a medieval city would look very similar, and often had a horizontal wheel on which to hang each batch of candles, rotating them up and around to cool, then back to the dipping pot. Non-modern people may not have had modern tech or time-and-motion studies, but they weren't stupid.

*****

By contrast, the podcast's disparaging attitude of WEIRD and PRIMITIVE is emphasised by what seems a deliberate avoidance of anything which counters it (examples of that in my own posts) and finally at 11.24 / 9:50 came this:

"Even when you get all the way to the 1700s (...) most people are still subsistence farmers, living in some kind of hut, trying to grow enough food not to starve to death (...) and light? Light still comes from finding stuff that's lying around and just lighting it on fire."

Some kind of hut...

Stuff that's lying around...

After making such a declaration, I'm surprised - since they'd been implying it for half the podcast - someone didn't just go ahead and announce that "there's some lovely filth down here..."

That's when I stopped listening.

Enough is enough, and I'd had it.

*****

ETA:

cc: @asmuchasidliketo :->

Here's a photo of what purports to be a Petrel (not petrol, that's something else) Candle, held in the Pitt-Rivers Museum, Oxford. It's mentioned in that scholarly article I linked above.

Just as "one swallow doesn't make a summer", so one - and only one - known example of this, which may have been a fake-up to spoof the Southerners, doesn't prove it was a common or even rare practice.

There's another reason to take this with a big pinch of salt, so maybe Jane Brox was on a low-sodium diet when she wrote her book.

Creatures with a layer of fat or blubber for insulation all have it like any other form of insulation, on the outside, where it does some good. A wick passed through the inside couldn't draw on it for fuel since there's a layer of muscle and another of internal organs for the oil to get through first.

The cropped-off bottle just visible to the left is a far more likely way seabirds became lamp fuel: by rendering out their oil. This oil is from the Northern Fulmar, Fulmaris glaciaris (or glacialis, I've seen both. Same bird regardless).

Incidentally, the Wikipedia article on European Storm Petrel mentions a supernatural connection, that the petrels were the souls of drowned sailors, and killing them is unlucky.

Not just killing them but making them into candles sounds like A Bad Idea, and is yet another reason why, IMO, the candle thing may be a folktale, or a deliberate leg-pull, or...

Let's just say "improbable" and leave it there. :-P