#pitch bloom cookie

[ask-crk-legendswap]

I first just want to say I absolutely adore your au!!! While there isn’t currently a lot of content, your design are phenomenal and I’m so curious to see where this goes. I also wanted to ask, how do the swap!ancients feel about eachother? Do they get along?

knocking four birds with one stone here;

"What are the swap ancients relationships to one another?"

similar to the canon ancients' relationships to one another ! they're good friends, just that they only recently rekindled their relationship after a long, long time of going off the grid from one another, so some stuff's a bit rusty, but it's nothing they can't get past.

"Is Silent Salt hated by his peers?"

nope! even if it's outed as canon that salt did betray the ancients (which i could possibly integrate into the au but we'll see), the ancients do not really 'hate' him, in the end. i'd say he was off the grid the longest, just like white lily, and so the others are concerned about him, but they still care for him nontheless.

"If Silent Salt swaps with White Lily and Twilight Archfey replaces Dark Enchantress, is salt a counterpart of twilight archfey?"

interesting concept, but no. it's too complicated, and since white lily and crescent faerie are already counterparts in this au, it just feels like too much if two pairs of cookies had ties to eachother.

[fixated-cookies]

Milk, Flame, and the Witch's Pit

A powerful witch, once thought lost to time, returns to Earthbread-her body disguised, her magic not. She does not seduce. She does not beg. She commands. And those who cross her path-Burning Spice Cookie, full of fury, and Shadow Milk Cookie, her only loyal sin- will find themselves drawn into her pit of worship and ruin.

COMISSION

Minors do not interact

The wind changed before she arrived.

It slipped between stalks of caramel grass and dragged its breath across molasses stones, humming with a charge no Cookie could name. Flowers folded in her wake. Clouds parted above her with reverence or fear—it was difficult to tell the difference. She walked slowly, barefoot and regal, the color of her dough unknown beneath layers of velvet shadow. The bells at her hip did not ring. The sound had been devoured by the heat.

The Land of Spice trembled around her.

She had no name anymore. Names were for stories, and she had outlived every one whispered about her. What she carried was heavier than sugar, older than the ovens that birthed the Ancients. Her magic whispered at the edges of the world, soft as breath, sticky as sin.

And it did not go unnoticed.

A heat slammed into her path like a living wall.

“Hmm, what do we have here?” came a voice, cracked like scorched stone. “You don’t belong here.”

He stood half-wreathed in fire, chest bare and pulsing with the beat of battle, gold teeth bared in something between a snarl and a smile. Tattoos shimmered over his massive arms, and the antennae blazing from his skull lashed the air like twin serpents of flame.

Burning Spice Cookie.

She tilted her head, eyes calm. She said nothing.

He scoffed. “What? No words to be said? A worthy opponent?"

Still, she was silent. One finger raised—slowly, deliberately. A flick.

The fire at his feet dimmed. His snarl stuttered. Something like a shiver licked down his spine.

“You—” he started.

But her gaze had already gone through him. Past his teeth, past his fury. Into the place where his flame softened, where rage and lust touched hands like old friends.

One word slid from her lips.

“Bend.”

He tried to bark a laugh—but his breath caught in his throat. His knees hit the ground with a cruel crack. Heat surged from the base of his spine, uncoiling, throbbing. He gritted his teeth, growled—but his cock betrayed him. The tension twisted into pleasure, shame blooming in his gut like a scarlet lotus.

She turned. Walked on.

Behind her, Burning Spice Cookie stayed kneeling, panting in the ash, unable to understand why it felt so good.

She kept going, kept walking. As the desert became more filled with plants, forest appearing. Darkness.

The road behind her smoldered, and still she walked.

Beast Yeast welcomed no travelers—but it yielded to her. Vines parted like curtains, slick with dew and breath. Trees blinked when she passed, their bark pulsing faintly with the same rhythm as her slow, steady pulse. The air grew damp, cloying, laced with old sugar and something wilder. The shadows here were alive.

And they were watching.

She did not call his name. She didn’t need to. She merely stepped between two warped trunks, and the forest sighed.

“Even now,” came a voice, smooth and sly, “you enter like the last act of a forgotten play.”

Shadow Milk Cookie emerged from nothing—woven from gloom and glitter. His dual-toned hair curled like ink in water, strands shifting between jester’s blue and pitch-black oil. One of his hidden eyes opened within the shadow of his bangs, blinking slow. His smile was crooked, familiar, unbearable.

“You smell the same,” he whispered, drifting close. “Like broken vows and sugar-laced venom. Hah… I’d almost convinced myself you weren’t real.”

She said nothing.

He tilted his head, studying her like an art piece returned from ruin. His staff tapped once against the ground—a signal, or a habit. “You always did know how to time an entrance. Tell me… is this another illusion? Or have you truly come to finish what we started?”

Still, she gave no answer. She only looked at him.

That was enough.

The smile faltered. His breath caught—just once. Her eyes had not changed. Still that bottomless, terrible calm. He stepped closer, cautious, as if the very act of nearing her was dangerous.

“I missed you,” he confessed, low. “There. Does that please you? The Master of Deceit, saying something real for once.”

She raised her hand.

He didn’t flinch—but he swayed, like his body had remembered this moment from another lifetime. Her fingers touched his jaw, light as mist, and he shuddered.

“I tried to forget,” he rasped, leaning into her palm, “but I don’t lie to myself as well as I used to.”

His knees buckled. He sank into the moss and fog like he belonged there. Her presence curled around him, magic without movement. He gazed up at her with parted lips and eyes gone half-lidded—devotion without demand.

Shadow Milk knelt beneath her, chest rising with shallow breaths. His fingers hovered at the hem of her veil but never touched. He wouldn’t dare. Not yet.

“You didn’t come,” he said, voice almost childlike. “When I fell. When they shattered my name, trapped me. I waited.”

Silence again.

Then—

“I was afraid,” she murmured.

It was so quiet it barely counted as speech. But the forest flinched. Even the wind stopped.

His gaze snapped up.

She didn’t look at him. Her eyes were turned inward, to some echo he couldn’t reach.

“I saw what they did to you. I saw the fire they lit in your absence. I told myself I couldn’t help. That it was too late. That if I moved, I’d fall with you.”

He laughed, but it cracked. “Fall? My dear. I needed you to fall. I was already at the bottom.”

“I know.”

She finally looked at him. The stillness between them turned sharp.

“I hated myself,” she whispered. “For staying behind. For surviving it clean. For watching your ruin like it was a play I'd written. I wanted to believe you didn’t need me.”

“I didn’t,” he said, breathless. “Not then.”

She leaned in.

“I need you now.”

The kiss was featherlight. Barely a press of mouth to mouth. But it burned. A memory drawn in blood. His whole body jolted—like magic, like mourning. His hands curled in the moss. He didn’t reach for her. He let it happen.

Another kiss. Slower.

Her lips dragged against his like she was trying to recall the shape of them. His eyes fluttered, a soft groan slipping loose. Her magic lingered on her tongue, bitter and sweet.

“I dreamed of this,” he gasped. “A hundred times. A thousand. I dreamed of you coming back.”

She kissed the corner of his mouth. His jaw. Then his throat.

“I didn’t dream at all,” she said. “I couldn’t.”

His hand rose, shakily, and touched her wrist. Just once. As if afraid it would break the spell.

“Then let me dream for both of us.”

She didn’t answer. But her fingers slid into his hair. The tentacles beneath them stirred with recognition, sensing the shift. The ritual hadn’t begun—but it was coming.

And the air behind them shimmered—hot, jagged, furious.

The hunter had arrived.

The air shattered behind them.

A wave of raw heat swept through the glade, curling moss to ash and coaxing hissed warnings from the roots. Trees bent low as if in supplication. The fire had arrived.

Burning Spice Cookie stepped forward, flame-etched and radiant, his crimson eyes glowing coldly under the weight of fury. Sweat licked the curve of his throat, his dhoti clinging to the lines of his body. But his composure was unbroken.

“Is this what you’ve become, Deceit?” he said, voice smooth, low, deliberate. “On your knees for a woman who slithered in silence through our lands?”

Shadow Milk only grinned. “You say that like you’re above it.”

“I am above nothing. I descended long ago. But I did not rot.”

His gaze flicked to her—unflinching, dissecting.

“You… I remember your kind,” he murmured. “Temptresses spun from half-truths and perfumes. Witches who speak not in spells, but in silence. You are not new.”

Her expression didn’t change.

“You tread on sacred ground with your eyes half-lidded,” he continued. “You violate the body as if it were a scroll meant to be rewritten. And you leave your victims wanting.”

A flicker of tension beneath his jaw betrayed him. His control was fraying.

Shadow Milk tilted his head. “So you’ve felt it too.”

“I have felt… a corruption. Slithering beneath my skin like oil.” His voice darkened. “I do not know whether to burn it out or bend to it.”

Her voice was soft. “You came anyway.”

“I came,” he said, “because your magic reeks of something unfinished. And I do not abide loose ends.”

She raised her hand.

The earth opened.

Tentacles bloomed from the velvet pit below like petals of sin, dripping with soft luminescence. Runes pulsed in the air. The scent of aphrodisia filled their lungs. The sky flickered pink.

Shadow Milk had already sunk into the silk with a sigh. “Let go,” he whispered. “You’ll break more gracefully that way.”

“I do not break,” Burning Spice answered, a flash of gold behind his teeth. “I yield only to worthy flame.”

One of the tentacles brushed his thigh—gentle, exploratory.

He flinched.

His eyes narrowed.

“…You’ll have to prove yourself.”

The pit had become a chamber of sin—slick silk beneath them, velvet runes flickering in the air like warning lights, tentacles curling with silent anticipation. And at the center of it all, she sat untouched, radiant, her expression unreadable.

Then she moved.

She reached up—slowly—and undid the clasp at her collarbone. Her robe slipped down just enough to reveal the curve of her chest, pale and glowing, as if kissed by moonlight and marked by magic itself.

Her hands came to her breasts—round, heavy, soft in a way that defied the laws of dough and doughmakers. She pressed them together, the valley between them pulsing with a subtle enchantment—warm, wet, trembling like a mouth.

“You may use this,” she said simply.

Both Cookies froze.

Shadow Milk let out a whimpering laugh, rolling onto his elbows. “You’re… really letting us?”

“You will take turns.”

That was not a kindness. It was a command.

Burning Spice Cookie’s jaw ticked. His pride flickered in his eyes, but it was drowned beneath the ache that throbbed between his legs.

She shifted her knees apart, still seated, breasts lifted by her arms, gaze impassive.

“Come.”

Shadow Milk was first.

Of course he was.

He crawled to her, trembling. A tentacle gently guided his cock into place. He pressed forward—slow, reverent—and let out a shattered moan as his length sank between her breasts.

They were impossibly soft, slick with enchantment, tight like the space was made for him. She held them still—did not squirm, did not breathe hard. She watched.

He began to thrust—shallow, pretty movements, his breath stuttering with every pass. “Ah—so warm, it’s… ngh—"

A tentacle wrapped around his throat gently. Just a warning.

“Don’t finish,” she said.

“I—I won’t, I swear—”

His hips jerked anyway.

When he was close—too close—she pulled him back with a mere twitch of her finger. He let out a broken sob, cock twitching uselessly in open air, denied.

“Next.”

Burning Spice moved forward, slow as a soldier facing his executioner. His cock leaked with want—he was harder than he’d ever been, pulse thrumming in his ears.

She adjusted slightly. A little more lift. A tighter hold.

He gritted his teeth and pressed in—and immediately bit back a groan. “Tch—too much—too… gods—”

His hips bucked. Unlike Shadow Milk, his rhythm was rough, desperate. His face stayed hard, but his body betrayed him.

“You act controlled,” she murmured, “but I feel your tremble.”

He growled—but the sound caught, warbled, and fell apart in a groan. His cock throbbed against the plush heat of her chest, but he couldn’t cum.

The spell wouldn’t allow it.

His knees buckled.

He pulled out before he begged.

Shadow Milk whimpered beside him, face buried in his hands. A tentacle stroked his back in mock sympathy.

She wiped her chest clean with a flick of her magic.

“You are permitted to rut,” she said. “Not to release. Your seed is not earned.”

They both stared at her—trembling, ruined, cocks twitching, lips bitten raw.

And she just looked back.

Unmoved.

.....

They lay collapsed in the pit’s silk—Shadow Milk’s limbs tangled in a dozen tentacles, his voice gone hoarse from moaning, begging, breaking. Burning Spice sat upright still, if only by sheer force of will, sweat glistening along his temple, his cock still twitching from denial that bordered on cruelty.

Their breathing filled the silence.

Wet. Shaky. Ruined.

The tentacles eased—for now.

From her throne above, the Witch exhaled softly, lowering her arms. Her body, untouched. Her robes, barely ruffled. Her eyes, still glowing low like a hearth you could never warm yourself by.

“You performed as expected,” she said.

Shadow Milk laughed—quiet, delirious. “Then… then why does it still hurt…”

Burning Spice didn’t speak. He merely turned his face away, jaw tight, humiliation thick on his tongue.

The pit pulsed again—deeper this time. A rhythm like a heartbeat. Like something awakening.

She stood.

Both Cookies stirred at once—half out of instinct, half in dread.

She stepped down into the silk, barefoot. The ground did not touch her. The tentacles curled back in reverence.

“Rest while you can,” she murmured.

Her hand hovered briefly above their heads—not quite touching, but close enough for them to ache for it.

“This was only an opening. A taste.”

She looked down at them—two once-proud titans of power and war, now trembling at her feet.

“You will come again.”

And then she was gone—vanishing like steam from hot skin, leaving behind nothing but scent and ruin.

The pit quieted.

And deep below, something else… shifted.

A presence. Watching. Waiting.

Shadow Milk shuddered.

Burning Spice clenched his fists.

Neither spoke.

The ritual wasn’t over.

It had only just begun.

---

This took forever to make, I typed it on laptop but then had to edit it on phone lol

[inkformyblood]

barely a choice at all (SVSSS)

Heavy Luo Binghe pining, pre-relationship Bingqiu.

“Shizun.” Luo Binghe moves the tray from his hip to in front of him, the bowls rattling slightly with a motion. A wisp of steam escapes from one of them, the scent rich and sweet as it begins to colour the surrounding air. Something drops to the floor. “Is there something this disciple should know about?”

There was a play in the village a few weeks ago. Luo Binghe only attended with the others because Shizun insisted with one of his hands locked onto Luo Binghe’s curls as he did so like they were wondrously sewn together, almost never to be parted. It had been interesting enough, not as good as spending time with Shizun, but one scene burns through Luo Binghe’s memory now: one character, concealed beneath a blanket, while another tried to distract the attention of the guard.

His Shizun is doing an excellent impression of that distracting character now.

Shen Qinqiu laughs, slightly high-pitched, a touch strangled, as if Luo Binghe wouldn’t notice. The mess of blankets behind him on the bed moves.

Luo Binghe isn’t verging on murder. No, he’s past that now, anger frozen in his veins in a thousand glittering shards. If he bleeds now, it would mark the floors he’s spent so long scrubbing, so he’ll have to ensure that Shizun’s bedmate doesn’t land a blow on him. He only wants Shizun to be happy and if this paltry stand-in is needed until Luo Binghe is old enough, has proven himself worthy of being everything Shizun deserves, then so be it. He’s not jealous, that would imply he considers the other to be an equal. 

He’s not.

Shen Qingqiu leans back, his hand knitted in the blankets behind him. The folds disguise the overall outline of what is there, but Luo Binghe can still make out the curve of a torso, the edge of a shoulder. 

“There is nothing amiss, Luo Binghe,” Shizun says, lying with a pretty smile that doesn’t reach his frantic eyes. There’s a high flush of colour in his cheeks that blooms down his neck, the hollow of his collarbone, exposed further as the neck of his robes slides open, threatening to display his fragile chest.

Luo Binghe allows himself a glance, a morsel thrown to a starving dog under the guise of kindness. It will only sharpen the hunger, the realisation of everything he is denying to himself, but that is the nature of beasts. An endless repetition of things he should know better if he didn’t have the instincts he does, the urge to bite and snap and snarl. 

“If Shizun is sure,” Luo Binghe demures. He’ll allow Shizun to win this battle in order to win the war. He moves forward, kneeling next to the low table, and begins to place the dishes out, one by deliberate one. There’s congee, made how Shizun likes it best with a delicate slice of green onions on top; a few cookies made with green tea, the colour still present after baking, the scent sweet; chicken shredded into a broth, egg mixed through in delicate golden ribbons—

A creature barrels out from behind Shizun, leaping at the table, and Luo Binghe has a choice to make: to block its advances towards the food, wouldn’t be difficult with his Shizun’s teachings, or to not. 

In the end, there’s no choice at all.

The beast barrels towards, into Luo Binghe, a mass of fur and quills, two dark eyes and an open maw. Luo Binghe collapses beneath the weight of it, a pitiful cry escaping his mouth as heavy paws indent his chest, the beast using him to throw itself upon the table.

“No!” Shizun dives from the bed, the sheet now vacant, billowing like a cape behind him. He’s scantily dressed, a thin robe knotted once at the waist and already further down both shoulders with his movement, a loose pair of trousers beneath it, his feet bare and dirt-streaked. 

He scoops up Luo Binghe without a thought of propriety and holds him on his feet, smooths warm hands over his cheeks, his hair, down the line of his throat before Shizun’s attention snaps beyond Luo Binghe’s shoulder, a dawning look of horror in his eyes. 

“What have you got in your mouth?” Shizun cries, his hands fluttering over Luo Binghe’s shoulders before he settles, his hands wrapped around Luo Binghe’s waist in an embrace as he presses his forehead to Luo Binghe’s shoulder. “What a nightmare.”

“Shizun?” Luo Binghe murmurs, pushes a brief tremor into the word and blinks wide and wet at the other man. Underhanded, but Luo Binghe is a young man at war with the world, he’ll use every weapon in his arsenal to win. 

Shizun’s hands cup his cheeks once more, his fingertips brushing through the base of the curls falling in front of Luo Binghe’s ears. “Are you hurt? The Lesser Spotted Rose-Hound isn’t poisonous, but I haven’t trimmed his claws yet. Liu-shidi just dumped him in my lap and it was sweet, I mean, they’re only found in some select regions to the east, but no food, no proper housing, not even a small heads-up that the beast would be alive this time, I mean, who does that?”

Luo Binghe’s bottom lip trembles, and a soft sound escapes Shizun, his grip tightening on Luo Binghe’s face for a moment before he forces himself to relax. In the mirror behind Shizun, the hateful creature swallows the remnants of the chicken, licks curved teeth, and somehow looks smug as two tails wag, knocking against the floor with a distinct heartbeat. It’s a clumsy-looking beast, dark fur bedraggled around its neck and paler markings over its flanks with sharp spikes protruding from the jab of the elbows.

Again, a choice that is no choice at all as Shizun starts extracting himself, moving away in fragments, his attention returning to the unneeded surprise dropped into his lap. Another complication in Luo Binghe’s plan.

Luo Binghe bursts into tears.

[circinuus]

"Hey, Yoichi."

"Yeah?"

Isagi watches you grin. He can already piece the puzzles. Something is going to go very, very wrong.

"Come sleep on my lap."

He was right.

With a jolt, the poor boy grows frazzled. Wide-eyed and mouth agape. His cheeks redden like the blush of dawn you worry lest he overheat and plop down on the warm grasses.

Years of acquaintance with his sweetheart—his everything. Isagi corrects himself—don't seem to be enough to prepare him for this. For you. Call the boy the master of being adaptable, but there's something about you that never fails to surprise him.

"Aw! Come on~"

Pat pat.

You tap your upper thigh. No skin is exposed, no. But with you sitting on your knees, the light fabric of your midi skirt did nothing to shield the outline of your-

"Absolutely not!" he splutters, hiding the blooming blush with the back of his hand. The spring wind blows a gust of dandelions. Then he remembers that you were enjoying a nice picnic and each other's silence, just now. Him watching people—and stealing glances at you. A little—while you munch on a butter sandwich. Just now.

"Why not?" the sandwich is now long gone in your digestive system. And of course, you'll find something out of pocket when you have nothing in your hands.

"I saw some couples doing it on social media, isn't it cute?"

"I mean," he coughs, "it's really sudden, but.. if you're okay with it..?"

"Yes yes!" your hands clap, "Besides, you've been working so hard. I gotta spoil you, my little precious!"

Just like that, his face reddened again. Eyes flitting from your face, then to your lap. Then like a boy caught stealing cookies, they drift hastily to a space behind you. It's difficult to imagine. This is the same boy who throws violent insults on the football pitch like Santa giving presents on Christmas. Get you a man who can do both, they say.

"Well.." Isagi hesitates, but scoots closer all the same.

Pspspspspsps!

"Here! Here!" You pat your thighs again, perhaps a little bit too eagerly. With the spring tide clouds rolling by, Isagi finally rests his head on your lap. His hair slightly tickling you through the fabric of your skirt.

He was tense, yes, the sweet boy. But you slowly thread your finger through his dark locks, caressing the crown of his head. Who was he to resist against your touch? Isagi soon melts in your hold and relaxes his head in your cradle.

You close your eyes, content, and once again you both enjoy each other's silence. Another gust of dandelion seeds flew by. Your other hand reaches for his as you hum a small tune. Your thumb rubbing circles in the back of his hand.

"(Name), you're very pretty."

And then Isagi took his turn to surprise you, this time.

Looking down, gone was the bashful boy with a skittish gait. His eyes are of a deep shade of blue like the prettiest sapphire you could ever find. And he dons the expression of a boy who might be stricken by a deadly case of young lovesickness.

Maybe he is. Because he reaches for your cheek as you are both lost in each other's eyes. And maybe you too. Because you smile at the sweet words and let him guide your face towards his, enough for your lips to...

"Mwah!"

-Reach his nose!

Isagi blinks. He received a perfect little Eskimo kiss!

"You're such a tease!" his laugh melds with yours, still in the comfort of your hold. Then you make another of that radiant grin. The one that Isagi really likes.

"Only to you," you said. And the lovesick boy can only wonder how the universe has given someone as perfect as you for him.

Turns out he was wrong, after all. With you, things will always go very, very right.

I feel rusty it's been a while since I wrote something 😞 also first bllk fic in this blog :') things are getting out of hand and now im attached to these football nerds.

and isagi he is uhh canonically a thigh type of guy so...

[missamyrisa2]

Miss Amy what do you think about “tough guys” who secretly love being tickled but pretend not too? What teases and taunts do you like to use on them?

I meannnnhhh ~

Okay, I love ticklish guys and it's for so many reasons but one of the things I love most and this is soooooo baddddhh but I have to be honest ~!

Making a guy giggleboner is likeeeeee the cutestttt teasiest thinggg and it of course is the confirmation that they looove being tickled despite alll the pleading and adorable struggling ~ just coaxing them to pitch that cuuuute tickletent while I'm barelyyyy doing anything with skittery playful ticklesss and flirtyyy looks and featheryyy touchesss is just sooo mmmhh~!

(and of course the thing I dreadddd the most when I'm in boy mode~)

But anyywayyy you don't come for my babbling, you come for the self insert righttt?

"Because you're a tough guyyyy oh yesss such a muscular powerful boyyyy not sensitive at allll you could take annyyyy torture I give you huhhh ~ you're not ummmmh oooh what's the worddddd ~"

I pontificate as I back you up on the comfy couch, the look of intent blooming in my face while I fail to hold back the knowing smirks. I know, you know I know, and most of all I knowww you know andd yeettt~ we keep doing this little dance~

"Y'know, when you giggle? When you make those cute sounds because someone just touches you so lightly? It's a defense mechanism really, the thing that protects your beautiful bodyyy but also makes you make funny sounds. Oooh what is thattt~" I trail off and trail my nails up your sides probing around, gently grabbing your wrist and holding it with firmness to move your arm aside allowing me to continue up to your underarm but not before skipping up to feather touch down your inner arm~

"You're sooo strongggg but oohh it's not really working on meeee ~ you can't break freeee nopeee and I think you're getting a little weakerrrr uhuhhhh~ by the way, are you ticklish?"

I pose my question as my fingers attack, because I'm not asking your mouth, I'm asking your body [ooooh I'm soo posting that as a ticklehot] ~ digging into your underarm and spidering down to your ribs and across your chest to take a taunting lap across your neck. I'm straddling your waist now, grabbing your arms and moving them back when you try to block.

"Coochie cooooo my tough cookie ~ you're sooo ticklish and ever so sexyyy like thissss ~ mmhmmmmm~"

I put on my flirty tone and lean in closer, letting my hair brush and taunt and tease at your upper body and face while I purse my lips in little 'oooo' looks every time you let out a big sound or try to buck me off.

"What happened to all that toughness? Surelyyyy you can bounce sillly little me offfa you huh? Just grab my wrists, push me back darling. I'm gonna keep tickling youuuuu ~ mmmhmmm tickle tickle tiiiicklee ~ I think you like me tickling youuuu ~ yes I dooooo yes I doooo~"

I delight in your blushing and denial, planting kissies at your cheek and teasing at your ears and collar before digging in for more tickles at your armpits and backing up a little to start belly tickling you. And that position as I rub your sides with a thumb and poke at your navel gives me the vantage point to confirm what I had already been feeling~

"Mmmmhmmm. Ah yes. I see youuuuu ~ you definitelyyyy definitely loooove your ticklessss I knew itttt ~ it's just tickling my cute boyyy, and you got all naughty like thatttt? Naughty naughty thingggg getting alllll boneyyy from your ticklessss ~ you know what that meansss ~"

I reach over and pull out my long stiff white feather.

"Oooh yes. Ooooh yes definitely definitely that. Cute boys who can't help being alllll wicked and naughtyyy from their tickles definitely definitely get the~~~ edgiessss~!!"

I grin and nonchalantly start tugging down your bottoms.

"No, nope, don't fight it. These are mine nowwww~"

And when I reveal your underwear I snicker and trace the strained fabric with an index nail, making faux shock with my face. "My my myyyyy ~ tsk tsk tskkkk ~ sooooo veryyyy very naughty~" And with my feather, I start stroking, with my finger tickling at your thighs and hips to make you bounce and twist, making you move so that your princely part starts working its way out of the fabric prison holding it back.

"If you pop outttttt ~ if your princely part shows offfff you're sooo getting feathereddd mhmmmm getting those itchy itchyyy tickles that drive princely parts ticklemaddddd~"

When your royal part slips free, my feather immediately follows, kissing under the tip ever so lightly. My eyes lock to yours and I keep the tickles at your belly while I start taunting and bullying~ "tell me I'm beautiful ~ tell me I'm the besstttt tickler everrrr that you looove and tell me how you wantttt my tickles and wanttt meeee~"

"Ooooh ever sooo naughtyyy, such a naughty sillyyy cute thing~" I blush and snicker at you saying what I want to hear, and as you grow more desperate, as all your toughness and denial melts, I snuggle up to you and hold you to me lovingly as I continue to tease and tickle and torment alll that princely length with my tickle feather until you're nothing but a gasping giggling messs ~<3

[extravagantwit]

@extravagantliar asked:

Is there a moment that I missed that you regret? Did I look past something? 

"Something you missed?" There's a flash of teeth as mirth seems to warm cold cheeks, pulling his face up in a way it hasn't in a while. "That's a good question." Varric is full of good questions. Bad questions too, but in a good way. So it isn't a bother, not as a familiar staff rattles as he sets it aside, the serrated blade scraping hard against the cool ground. The bloody foci on the staff throbs like a heartbeat, lending unfortunate color to drab surroundings, but he pays it no mind. Not as he wipes imaginary dust away from some ruined pillar before settling into a seat next to the dwarf.

"Well, there was that one time with the Wardens--" He rambles to fill the quiet, as if the quiet was unbearable. Which it was. With them, the quiet was never good. The quiet enveloped all the points of precipice that both knew that there was no return from, for good or for bad. The silence was the inbetween of the words they say and the words they meant. He craves the noise, the hubbub of Low Town and the Hanged Man, and the lack of peace marking every breathing moment of his day. He'd take that again over--

"But Carver probably told you that, didn't he? You two chat a lot for people who can't stand each other." He nudges Varric with his bare elbow, his skin ashy and cracked from a lack of care. It's been a tough few daysmonthsyears for him-- for them. Still, he's laughing to fill the quiet, barking a sound at the silence to make it back up. His hands twitch, antsy and flexing, quietly wishing Cookie was by his side. She would have been all up in Varric's business too, demanding his perfect behind the ear scratches as she drooled and licked at him, just like the girls did to him at the Blooming Rose. The nostalgia sticks to his teeth like pitch and he probs at it, summoning a tooth ache in the process. A physical tether of the memories he can't afford to lose.

"How about the time…" He's looking at his hands as he tells this story, flexing fingers against the armor he hasn't removed in quite some time. The gauntlet is almost an extension of himself, the claws of his other forms permanently overlaid on his human shape. His bare fingers aren't much better -- the pinking of his palms blackened with burns and magic, the nails steeped dark with blood. If he looks too long at himself he reminds himself of the statue back in Kirkwall -- so he doesn't. He looks at Varric instead.

He looks into hazel eyes, picking apart their colors. Here, where so little color likes to settle, they're mostly grey. The memories paint in all the other hues though -- the flashes of orange in the face of burning Hightown, the murky blue-grey as Varric held Bartrend's body, the mournful green-brown as Varric held him as he cried. All swirled together the colors blend into better things, like the stupid grin he would shoot at him after doing a trick shot, or the brilliant surprise when they managed to diffuse the proverbial bomb yet again. He favors the honey-brown of bad ale and quieter nights, tucked away upstairs in the Hanged Man, holding each other like the shit-show wasn't driving them to the brink and back. And that was then-- before all this; before now.

Bare fingers, as terrible as they may be, run along a memorable jaw. He likes the beard, but he misses the stubble. He misses the easy way Varric would roll his shoulders back and start spouting off his bullshit with a wink. He touches scars, the new angle of his nose from yet another break, and down. Following the path of a skin canvas to the newest scar, throbbing with energy and regret, even in this quiet place. He can feel the flinch as he touches, rippling through the body next to him and the air around them, conjuring the memories of the wounds origin. Of an elf, a rook, a dagger, and gods. He closes his eyes, letting it wash over him, letting it settle in his bones as yet another weight. Another burden for him to shoulder-- but he didn't. He hadn't.

He had the letters, the wax seals now disfigured with how many times they had been open and shut on his journey. He had the gaps of time between letters, where the ache of absence threatened to abscess, but he kept the infection at bay. Like many things -- he was good at keeping it at arm's length, just close enough to hurt him, but not put him down for the count. They were both good at that -- usually.

Until they met each other.

"Don't sell yourself short -- you need what little height you got." He grins, teeth jagged like a predator, and the heartbeat of his foci making his bloodied mark flash brighter in the dimness. The mark along his face that makes him impossible to miss, if he could have been missed in the first place. "You didn't miss anything." He knows that will get him a crooked look, something between a smile and scorn, and it makes the weight sink deeper. Like Varric in water, almost.

"Nothing I can't tell you about later." Clawed fingers are scraping along the ruins of a ritual site, collecting his staff, and he's standing. Standing tall, but not proud. Not as he cracks his neck and tugs his beard back into its iconic shape. "Because there will be a later." It's a promise, said without their hands entwined, or without a glass broken between them. "You gotta hold onto that." He's looking out, watching the slice of fade around them morph away from the ritual site and to something more homely. To a bedroom of sorts, with a bed too big for just one dwarf, and a desk too small all at the same time.

He stands aside the bed, looking down at a man whose body was trying to die, but his spirit would not. He touches the stab wound again, watching as real color invades the dimness and passes through the veil, bleeding reality into the world beyond it. Varric is both looking at him and not, with eyes shut before him, but open beside him. "This must be hell for you." Again, the jagged smile, as he looks over at the dreaming apparition next to him. The same apparition that had been the bell that had tolled and summoned the dragon closer, pressing its weight against the barrier between them. "Aren't you glad you got sucked up into the Fade so many times now? Gave you some practice before dreaming." The apparition may swat at him, but he can watch the body twitch-- can see a smile tug at tired lips. The dragon presses harder against the barrier, ignoring the war biting at its flanks, and he presses against the Veil; pressing a kiss to a dreaming, furrowed brow.

"I'll tell you about everything you missed when I'm back. I promise."

[hobodeplage]

This is a draft of something I'm working on.

It was a lucky hit the Naysayers laughed.

My sister sat behind the Correlli's who own the bakery down the street.

She said they were arguing about making the Easter cookies they were famous for.

Mr. Correlli said it was too early.

They went back and forth until he saw me step up to the plate.

He turned to his wife and said if my bat touched the ball,

They would start the cookies that evening.

I didnt even have to get a base hit.

Jerk.

Pretty soon the people around them got in on the bet.

Not in my favour.

I always look over at my sister for luck.

She was smiling but her eyes were objective.

The crowd was unusually still.

My sister said the tension was thicker than a Correlli pound cake.

Weird, but I didn't have time to care.

Tony Lopez was pitching.

He had a good arm.

He was 12 years old but looked like a middle-aged man working on his second marriage.

I heard his parents put a lot of pressure on him.

Parents can take the fun out of stuff.

He threw the ball.

At least, his body jerked back like a fancy show pony.

I waited to hear the whoosh of the ball.

I swung as it went by.

Why couldn't baseballs be neon like tennis balls?

The ump, Mr. Carleton, school janitor, called it.

I jumped forward.

I was startled by the roar of approval in the stands.

They cheered like I was the last batter in the World Series.

It was the bottom of the sixth.

Two outs.

Neither team had scored.

I was our last hope.

I looked over at the dugout.

The guys looked grim.

I wanted to yell,

"We're gonna' get pizza either way!"

The only one smiling was my best friend, Montgomery van Oldenburg.

He tugged his right ear and then crossed his fingers.

He loved Carol Burnett.

His Tarzan yell was impressive for a little guy.

I let out a big breath.

In four square, I look at the space in the square where I want the ball to land.

It never fails.

I looked to right field.

Robbie Smith.

We took drawing lessons after school together.

He's so nice I wanted to wave at him.

I looked to left field.

Buddy Lambert.

He was nice too!

This was the first year we weren't in the same class.

At mid-field, stood Adam Lindstrom with his gloved hand on his hip.

He looked bored.

He was in all the Advanced Placement classes.

He once said to me I did an awesome job of making smart look dumb.

I hated him.

I looked up at the blue sky.

I wondered what Van Gough would make of it.

Especially with the blooming orange groves underneath it.

I closed my eyes, dropped my head, and opened them again.

They landed behind the fence which bordered the canal.

Nobody had hit it out of the field all season.

I could do this I gulped.

My mom always said, "Go big or you're not coming home."

She's not allowed at the games anymore.

My sister said, "Keep your eye on the ball."

That doesnt always work when you can only see two arm lengths ahead of you.

I have to use my other senses.

The sound of the ball.

The change in the air against my arms.

The combined smell of the warm grass and all the sugar from the concession stand.

Mr. Carlson said, "Get your head in the game, Nancy."

I looked at him then at Tony and nodded.

Tony did his fancy move.

"I am the master of my universe," I said out loud.

And, swung.

I felt the sting of the bat hitting the ball.

A sound like a firecracker echoed.

I dropped the bat and ran.

Coach said as long as you hear a crack, run.

I didn't follow the ball

But, I saw Adam Lindstrom slowly backpeddle before he quickly switched gears.

He and his team moved around the field like Keystone cops

I looked at the first base coach, Tommy Crane, he had his cap in his hand.

"Go! Go! Go!" He yelled, waving me by.

I could run like a mo-fo.

I looked up just in time to see the ball sail as gracefully as Baryshnikov over the fence.

It stayed in the air as if admiring the view.

Then it just dropped into the canal.

The guys were screaming and running to meet me at home.

I could have walked but coach said that's disrespectful.

"You finish the game the way you started."

Hope and good sportsmanship.

All that stuff the adults like to preach.

They tried picking me up but I was too tall for them.

Pats on the back felt just as good.

My sister said when the ball went over the fence Mrs. Correlli genuflected and said it was a sign from God.

I got free cookies all through Lent.

It was our secret.

Every mother cheered and every dad clapped politely.

Hitting the game's only run could've been luck.

My sister pitching balls at me after school for an hour might have something to do with it.

But, Im going to go with Mrs. Correlli.

It was a sign from God.

I joined the swim team the next year.

For my favourite Naysayer

"Have a little faith, babe."

[frozen-fountain]

ROYGBIV Tag

Thank you @late-to-the-fandom for the tag!

Rules: Search your WIP for the colours of the rainbow and post the excerpt. (I'm bending this and taking from a variety of fics, so they're all present.)

In turn I tag: @visualheresy, @runicmagitek, @keioschaos, @ourspecial, @frogs-in3-hills, @hrh-spinach, and @bees-and-sunshine!

Red

"The reddish light in the corridor, just like the lamp in their room, stopped her in her tracks. She hurried along to the wide window and stumbled back at the sight of it. It festered like an abscess in the sky, a black void ringed with red, glowing with palpable malice. Small and far away, but drawing all eyes toward it" - You Grow the Flowers Yourself.

Orange

"'Looks like we're good to go,' said Elena, standing vigil over the bubbling kettle. She'd set out their food on paper plates, arranged in a colourful flotilla; sliced beef cured with woodsmoke and lemongrass, spicy dried seaweed, pumpkin cookies, glutinous rice balls, a grab bag of nuts and seeds, and wedges of orange melon salted and preserved in lime. Yuffie would have made the journey with a skin of water and a pack of jerky in her bag, for the mountains provided their own bounty of bitter berries and mushrooms hidden under fallen leaves – if one knew where to look, and which were only edible once" - Spiced Black Tea.

Yellow

"The town watched from a distance as the Saucer went up, a prized gem that crowned the rolling beige beneath it, a bauble hung in the air over cracked, necrotic ground. “I wanna be Master Tonberry!” went the cry on the playground, every year as one ended and another began, and a higher-pitched “No, you were Master Tonberry last year, gimme the trowel!” followed. The cut-throat competition for the starring role spilled out after school hours and into the streets on the walk home, boys and girls in short pants brandishing any shiny metal implement they could get their grubby hands on. The winter play lost a little of its dark magic once you got behind the stage and saw how they made it happen – two tiny yellow bulbs poking out of a black cloth.

It took shape out of the darkness as the gate was raised, Dio's voice booming overhead while Barret reloaded, a trail of blood washed across the neon and noise of those suspended corridors on the way to the battle arena. The roar of the crowd, two little lights emerging from the pit and then a head took form, a roughspun robe with a lantern swinging in one hand and in the other, the knife, sharpened on the rocks of the underworld and gleaming in the spotlight. Barret let his jaw fall only for a moment, put up his shoulders, took aim -

Easy when they don't speak, ain't it? Just those two evil little eyes, shufflin' towards you" - Aperture Priority.

Green

"Celes trailed a hand dark with soil among the lotuses. The mirror-flat of the water shattered at her touch, the only movement in the greenhouse. Edgar built it just for her, her green hideaway below the dunes – probably, and she smiled to herself, after she expressed but a momentary speculative doubt that he could. But the sands had never bested him yet. Water summoned from springs deep below the earth passed through the engines that gave life to the castle, where it warmed on its way to trickle down among the seed beds. Dense condensation lent a ruddy glow to the windows, an invitation to all in passing to find her fragrant patch of green, and all the colours that bloomed there. A rainbow under skies that turned grey nary twice in a year" - Fogged Windows.

Blue

"Elena followed and took the rope uncoiling from the ground in both hands, wrapping her legs around it as she jumped into nothing. Her shoes fell from her feet, one after the other lost to the blue, and she laughed. The Highwind lurched forward and took her with it, hanging in mid-air over the glimmering sea sprawl of Costa del Sol. From some new and unknown cavity of her chest she found the air to laugh some more, buffeted by the salt wind as she clung to the rope and the women above her who held it. Below they swarmed in their all-black uniforms. Ant-like and indistinguishable from one another as they raised arms to take back something that was never theirs" - Dulosis.

Indigo

"They touched down in the foothills on what the crew swore was a morning, but the northern winters saw no sun for most of the day and they made their way from the ship into cloud-banked indigo gloom. Elmyra carried her materia in a small black briefcase and stepped onto the ground with a stamp as the snow cracked under her feet. 'I've never seen it like this,' she said, with a few falling flakes catching and glittering in the hair that strayed about her face. 'Where I grew up, we got frost on the ground and nothing more'" - Into the Night Uncharted (yes! I have one!).

Violet

"Outside the window was a grove of slim cedars, the herb garden, and Mireille hunched over on her knees. As Elena whisked oil with the sherry vinegar brewed by Runa over the river, Mireille sat transfixed by late summer flowers. Deep violet, dark red. Small splashes of violence against the drab earth colours the old woman made her uniform" - Dulosis.

[just-me-and-the-toaster]

Things Your Muse Will Notice About Mine | Audrey Fulquard

What they look like :

Like a second hand Marylin Monroe trying too hard to fit into the molds set to her by the men in her life. She hides her true self behind layers of makeup, bright eye shadows, and dark lines. Her hair is her most recognizable feature – blonde, short, and with its signature inward curl. She’s quite petite with a very delicate frame, manicured nails and a bright smile that can range from beaming and radiant to soft and shy. She knows how to use that smile and her long thick lashes to her advantage when she needs to, though it doesn’t make her feel very good inside. A post-canon Audrey is your typical suburban housewife ripped straight out of 1950s magazines and television shows. Her features have melted into their natural state with soft pastels and rosy pinks, ultimately making her prettier than the harshness of Skid Row ever could. She’s finally able to bloom into who she’s also been at heart, since she was a day-dreaming little girl.

What they smell like :

Various cheap floral perfumes – all perfectly aligned with all the seasons and moods you could imagine – with a hint of hairspray and rose shampoo. In her suburban dream, you can add freshly baked cookies and pine sol to the mix. 

What they taste like :

Sugary, sweet, and home-like in that same comforting way a grandma’s house is or a mother’s arms.

What they sound like :

Helium on steroids. Her voice is sky-high in pitch with a heavy New York accent that gets thicker with excitement or fear. At times it’s bright and dance-like, tinkling like tiny bells, and other times it’s wispy and quiet in attempts to either appease or comfort. She’s also always accompanied by the click of heels and the jingle of jewelry. 

What they feel like :

Warm and welcoming, but too soft for her own good. But she’s stronger than she looks and is resilient despite how much she’s been knocked around. She has a strong maternal aura and her presence is reassuring and comforting, and can go as far as to soften the toughest and stoniest out there. 

Tagged by: @scrivellc

Tagging: Anyone who wants to!

[hearthandhallows]

✿ Closed starter for Rudy (@innocentcurse) at Cardinal Chronicle.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Luna nudged the door open with her hip, balancing two paper takeout bags in her arms and wearing a small, hopeful smile. The scent of garlic and fresh bread wafted in with her, curling into the air like an invitation. She wandered toward the front desk, setting the bags down with a soft thud, her brow creasing as she glanced toward the receptionist.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ���Um. Hi,” she said, voice a little too high-pitched with nerves. “I’m looking for... Rudy?” Her cheeks flushed pink as she checked her watch; if she had the time right, his lunch break was just about to start. The receptionist gave a short nod, made a quick call, and then fixed her with a look that very clearly said, Okay, thanks, move along now.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Luna took the hint.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Scooping the bags back into her arms, she shuffled over to one of the waiting room chairs, sitting stiffly as her knees bounced against the floor. She told herself it was fine. She wasn’t nervous. Just... bringing a friend lunch. Just being nice. Nothing weird about that. Still, she jumped when she heard her name, like a kid caught mid-cookie theft. Her heart thudded until her eyes landed on the source, and just like that, her face lit up.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ A smile bloomed across her face as she stood, awkwardly shifting both bags into one arm so she could wave with the other. “Special delivery!” she called, not too loud, but loud enough. She crossed the room with a small bounce in her step, nerves softening as she got closer. “I was gonna go home for lunch before my shift at Thunderstruck, but,” she shrugged, unsure how to admit she just wanted to see him. “I figured you might need something that didn’t come from a vending machine.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Luna held out one of the bags, her grin a little sheepish now. “Also, the sandwich guy gave me a free cookie for being cute, and I thought I’d share. You got time to eat?”

[mysticdreamcafe]

turkey day

For the Thanksgiving holiday we had a UK style tea...I think. Cucumber, tuna, egg sandwiches with the crust cut off. A small Kentucky bourbon sponge cake along with a rum one. Tossed in some an assortment of chocolate cookies for variety. Clear pot with a blooming herbal tea in it.

Enjoyed the food but had a seizure towards the end, a small one. I think I need a medication change or adjustment. Granted the past month has been "hades in a handbag", but I still feel this may not be the right treatment for me. I'll call next week.

We were supposed to play the board game clue, borrowed from the library, but wound up getting out the decks of minute mysteries and trivia type games.

BTW the rescue seizure med that's a nasal spray is freaking painful. I'm talking I doubt I'll take it again because it's so damn painful. Feels like a swarm of bee's carrying red hot pitch forks in my sinus's and throat. Tried washing them down with saline spray but that made the meds less effective.

I swear I live in a poorly made macabre sitcom.

I hope it has been paused for today. I'm going to do some light work around the house and then go to the spa for the massage and pedicure my daughter gave me on last years Mother's day.

lol Takes me forever to schedule because I hate being touched since it hurts, but love the feel afterwards. So relaxed and moisturized. So, I'll change my bedding and once I get home I'll either play clue with everyone or I'll make some hot tea, light a candle, and curl up with a book in my room. Latter of the two sounds perfect.

MV

[ask-crk-legendswap]

and I’m back with another question however this is more of a suggestion since the main group replaced, the original does that mean characters like ginger, brave, strawberry cookie wizard cookie custard cookie the third will become the assistance or apprentices to the swapped beasts? - Mimi.exe🩷 probably not my last question.

indeed they are! ill work on their designs eventually (once i get more stuff sorted out) but here's what i plan for them to be;

custard III has ties to blighted orchid, chili pepper idolizes gilded curd, wizard is under the tutelage of pitch bloom (aka swap!white lily), aand gingerbrave and strawberry serve under thorned drupe (swap!hollyberry)

woohoo namedrops for the other two beasts. also, not really mentioned but the three cheeses (aka smoked cheese, burnt cheese and mozzarella. yes im calling them that) still do serve under gilded curd :)

abyssal pod doesn't get a henchman, being the beast of solitude and whatnot. and also for lore-related reasons that ill touch on one day when someone asks the right question and i get a neuron activation in my monkey brain

[glazesunflower]

Soft Dating Headcanons

Characters: Shenhe and Ei (separate)

Warnings: None! Just tooth-rotting fluff <3

Notes: Just a cute wholesome request!

She never thought she’d be in a relationship. Not because she doesn’t know what love is, but because she never thought she’d be on the receiving end of such affections. Ei knows herself to be a fighter. She’s all hard edges and unhealed wounds, up until you came into her life.

You make her want to be better, actively try to improve for the better. You make her want to voice her emotions more, something she’s had trouble doing in the past. She used to see emotions as nothing more than burdens when it came to war, all she’s ever known. But with you, everything is softer. She doesn’t think of war, she thinks of pink skies and music in the streets and of building a Inazuma you can relish, one you can enjoy together.

She’s not too open with her affections for you, not at the beginning. She grows bashful when your words are too flowery, when your face is too close, when your hands are on her. But she cherishes the closeness, the comfort, the familiarity you’ve grown to give her.

As time goes on, she will slowly start to reach out to you more. Her hand brushing yours as you walk, a silent invitation for you to hold her; her head softly landing on your shoulder when you rest under a sakura tree, her forehead brushing your neck as a silent request to cup her cheek,  place your lips on hers. Ei feels butterflies in the pitch of her stomach every time.

She likes to give you things, mementos of your time together. Sometimes she’ll have craftsmen do the work for her, and then she’ll come to you with precious gifts born from her gifted mind. Other times, she’ll craft them herself, even if clumsily. A bookmark made of sakura petals, suspiciously well-baked cookies, that you suspect a certain fox had to intervene with, and so on. Ei just loves watching your eyes light up, your lips blooming into a perfectly bright smile, for her eyes only.

Ei enjoys sleeping with you. It’s not as if she needs the rest. As the Archon of Eternity, Ei certainly doesn’t need to sleep, per se. But she deeply enjoys lying next to you, relishing in the way your eyelashes flutter closed, how your chest rises and falls with each breath you take, the peaceful expression on your soft features. She has never wanted eternity more than when she lays in your arms.

Shenhe has close to zero experience when it comes to love. All the more so with romantic love. Having been raised by adeptus, rigidly detached from the mortal world, all she has to rely on are the romance novels she’s found in the Liyue public library. Thus, Shenhe trustfully relies on you to guide her through the newfound emotions that course through her chest.

She’s not used to feeling so much, least of all when the emotions that bloom in her chest in your presence are the furthest thing from violent ones, which is all she’s ever known. She wants to hold your cheeks in her hands, trace the delicate skin free from scars, so foreign to her, so warm.  

Shenhe is often vocal with her thoughts, often coming off as blunt, even. But it’s part of her charm, one that you’ve grown to absolutely adore.

So when she comes to you, I want your hands on me at all times. Without you near, I feel empty. What is this strange emotion?, her winter eyes full of affection, you throw your head back laughing, brushing her fingers with yours and tugging her closer, It’s called love.

She’s not too vocal about her affections for you. How can she, when all she’s ever known is war and bloodshed? She has little words of affection sitting at the back of her head, but she found her own way to show you how much she cherishes you being with her. Shenhe insists on helping you even when you don’t need it. She’s always around, ready to pick something up for you, to fight the monsters in your path, to carry you in her strong arms so you don’t grow tired on long journeys. She’s very protective of you, her winter eyes always sitting on yours with a peaceful expression on them, gentle around the corners.

Shenhe has a light sleep often plagued with nightmares. She used to insist on wearing her red ropes to sleep to prevent from seeing monsters behind her closed eyelids. But now, the panic from those vivid dreams is a short-lived one. It was just a bad dream, my love. You’re okay, Shenhe lets you guide her to your embrace, her head softly landing on your chest. With her winter eyes closed, your hands on her hair and her ear to your chest, Shenhe would swear she can hear the sound of flowers blooming under your skin. She falls asleep lulled by the hum of your voice in the dark, and she feels safe in your arms.

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking or reblogging it <3!

You can check more of my writing on (this link!). Thank you!

[hackerqueen]

Fourth of July

summary: A story about Jake's childhood, youth and mother. (Ophelia) warnings: mention of mental health problems, a little JakexMC words: 3,5k

November 28, 1998

In a quiet and peaceful town, in a lonely hospital, at less than five o'clock in the morning, when a cold autumn morning was waking up to life, another human was born. He wasn't ordinary, he was someone else from the moment he was born. He was different.

Chestnut hair stuck to the sweaty forehead of the woman, who leaned back tiredly, trying to regain her even breathing.

– Just as we predicted. No complications, completely healthy and strong son!

A slight smile appeared on the tired woman's face.

– My little Jacob.

April 4, 2003

– Look. I found a daisy.

Hearing her son's high-pitched voice, the woman of average height looked up from the book she was reading at the little boy in front of her. His watchful gaze was focused on the tiny white flower in his hand, which he proudly held out to his mother.

This day was one of the first warm days of spring, which was the young woman's favorite season. They were surrounded by a forest in which beautiful and breathtaking plants bloomed and the warm rays of the sun enveloped them from the sky.

– It's beautiful, Jake. – she replied in a melodious voice. She sat up from the bench and leaned toward her five-year-old son. – Where did you find it?

– On the meadow. – He shrugged and held out the flower more strongly – It's for you. – added.

The incredibly sweet gesture amused and moved the young mother.

– Wouldn't you like to give it to your brother?

The woman chuckled softly as the boy rolled his eyes.

– I already gave him the stone. He threw it at my head.

She laughed again, but seeing his undisguised indignation, she accepted his gift and promised him that she will punish Kaden. The boy brightened up, and a slight smile appeared on his face, creating dimples on his cheeks.

The young mother once again admired the beauty of her son. Jake was a beautiful kid. He was a little bony for his age, even though he ate for two. His now sunlit face was like that of an angel. His thick hair, the color of dark chocolate pudding, cascaded over his forehead. But what caught his attention the most were his eyes. Beautiful, breath-taking, mesmerizing blue irises stood out on his innocent and charming face. Her heart clenched as she looked into her son's eyes, which were an identical reflection of his father's. Nathan Donfort.

She didn't want to remember the man who had completely broken her heart, so she thought back to Jake and began to fix his hair, which had been loosened by the sudden gust of wind.

She glanced at the white flower in her left hand out of the corner of her eye and swore one thing to herself. She promised herself that she would do everything in her power to keep her son exactly as he is now. Pure, innocent and free from any sin. She promised herself that she would make sure that Jake would always be as free, carefree and happy as he was now.

December 22, 2009

Christmas was fast approaching. Therefore, no one was surprised by the noise in the apartment, where a few more people were supposed to gather. In addition to Jake, Kaden and their mother, their grandmother and uncle were coming with their family. The whole apartment was nicely and climatically decorated, and the smell of home-made Christmas dishes was wafting, creating only increasing impatience in young boys.

– Kaden, how many times do I have to tell you that these gingerbread cookies are for Christmas? – she asked in a loud and slightly tired voice from the preparations, but she couldn't help but smile when she saw the boys running around the kitchen dressed in Santa hats. She went back to turning the meat in the pan when she heard a loud thump on their door. Surprised, she walked towards the entrance of the apartment, then opened the door. And it was one of the biggest mistakes of her life. Because she found no one else there but Nathan Donfort himself.

– Hello, Ophelia.

Her whole body stiffened and her heart stopped. She couldn't get a word out. She just stood there, staring at the face of the man she would sell her soul for one day.

– Mom? Who is this man?

She didn't know which of the boys had asked those questions. It didn't matter to her, even though he was the father of only one of them, she didn't want any of her sons to have anything to do with this man. So she left the apartment and quickly slammed the door. They were facing each other now, looking at each other with eyes that were so different and distant from the ones they had shared in the past.

– What do you want, Nathan? – She uttered the coldest, emotionless tone she could muster

– It's Christmas. I wanted to… – he started but got stuck in the middle. He tried a few more times, but each time he stopped as if he didn't know what he was doing here. – I wanted to meet my son.

The woman burst into a sharp, dry laugh. Damn, that asshole had more guts than she ever thought possible.

– All of a sudden? After eleven years, you remember that you have a son? – she asked, not believing in his insolence. – Spare yourself, Nathan. I'm not seventeen anymore, you can't manipulate me like you used to.

– That was never my target.

More dry lies.

– So what is it? You've had an argument with your wife again and you're looking for solace in a one-time whore you'll dump as soon as you find out she's pregnant? – she gasped as her emotions took over her. The inside screamed at her to go back inside and she wouldn't listen to a word of that son of a bitch anymore, but she couldn't. She couldn't take her eyes off the face of the man she once loved most in the world.

– I didn't come here to resolve our conflict. – he growled unpleasantly – I came because I believe that our son deserves a father. He deserves better.

– You mean our conflict is that when I told you I was pregnant, you called me names and left me alone? Right, it's nothing that bad! – she raised her voice, feeling the first burning tears under her eyelids – And he is by no means your son! You lost father's name when you abandoned us eleven years ago. He lived eleven years without you, and believe me, he deserves better than a momentary hope. Because that's who you are, Nathan. You give people momentary attention and hope and then brutally take it away and push people to the bottom.

She was about to return to her apartment after these words, but she looked at him one last time.

– By the way, what's your younger daughter's name? Ah, Lilly, that's right. Maybe you won't screw up with her like you did with Jake.

She slammed the door behind her and slid down it, finally falling to the floor. She would love to go back to the time when everything was fine. When the sun was out and Jake brought her a plucked daisy. She thought that moment would last forever. That they will always be so incredibly happy.

But the sky was not always cloudless. Unfortunately, the sun sometimes went down, and that Christmas day over Jake's house it went down too fast. And never came back.

November 28, 2012

– Happy birthday, sweetheart!

His grandmother's hand fell from his eyes, revealing a brand new, first ever computer he had ever owned. The then fourteen-year-old boy opened his eyes wide in surprise and looked at the older woman doubtfully. Well, he knew they didn't have the money for such expensive equipment.

– But from where? And how?

But his grandmother interrupted him"

– Don't worry so much, Jake. It's your birthday! Come on, grandma made you a delicious cake. Your favourite. – she smiled warmly at him, and the boy felt the warmth spreading inside him

– Is mom joining us? – he asked only hoping for an affirmative answer – I haven't seen her here for so long.

The old woman tensed up, but tried not to let him know that something was wrong. She smiled at him again, pushing him towards the table. She bit her lip and replied.

– Your mother took an extra job, which is why she's been gone so long. But I promise she'll be back soon. – she said truthfully, a little sadly.

Jake had abruptly blacked out because he had just found out that his mom was working a few jobs just to keep him entertained. Only once did he mention how much he likes IT classes, and she decided to sacrifice her well-being and exhaust herself in several jobs. It was then that he felt for the first time that he didn't deserve someone.

He felt it in such moments, when he saw empty packets of various pills, prescriptions from psychiatrists and sleepless, crying nights. For several years, Ophelia was sinking into an increasingly advanced depression, although she did not want to admit it to her sons. And it got worse as she watched the family of her ex-lover, Nathan Donfort, more and more. She saw all the photos his wife posted, which showed a complete family with two beautiful daughters. Smiling, happy and so full of love. Bitterness, sadness and rage seized her and dragged her down.

Jake was mature enough to understand the situation. It was when he turned fourteen and later fifteen that he and his mother began to have heated arguments about his father. The boy wanted to know who his father was, he wanted to meet him. No. He wanted to know why he abandoned them. Ophelia always brushed him off and never gave an answer. The boy didn't want to blame her - he had seen the condition she was in, which was mostly caused by Nathan Donfort. He never blamed her.

But he couldn't help his growing curiosity about his roots and the fact that he got in touch with his older half-sister Hannah thanks to the computer they had given him. When, after a few months of exchanging messages and talking with sister, his mother found out about it, their relation deteriorated even more. And now two people were blaming each other for Nathan's departure. Ophelia about being an insufficient woman, and Jake about being an unwanted child. Because Hannah also told the boy many things about her family, including her father. She portrayed him as a loving and caring father and husband. So what were they better at? What was the fault of a young, then seventeen-year-old girl completely blinded by love for an older man? And what was the fault of the defenseless and unawared boy with black hair and an innocent smile?

Jake felt rejected. Unwanted. Furious that, compared to him, Kaden had a perfectly normal father. Yes, he wasn't with their mom either, but he didn't abandon his son. So many times he wanted to tell Hannah the truth about what kind of man their father really was. However, he never did. He didn't want to be the reason their perfect family broke up.

When he didn't want to hurt his mother any more by soughting contact with the family of the man who broke her heart so he decided to break off contact with Hannah. But it was damn hard, because for unknown reasons, he became very attached to his unawared sister. The situation began to spiral out of control when girl began to show strange emotions towards him. Suggestions. He had no idea how he hadn't noticed it before. He was never good at interpersonal relationships. Hannah crossed the line when she sent him a picture in nothing but a bra. Jake reacted immediately, blaming himself for not finishing it sooner. He cut off contact with her, never returning to the topic in the years that followed.

November 31, 2016

He was awakened by the strong and poisonous smell of smoke. Disoriented and sleepy, he had no idea what was going on. The only sound he heard was the loud snoring of Kaden, who was sleeping on the bed next to him. He listened for a moment, and when another strange noise reached him, he stood up as if scalded. It sounded like... burning. Almost falling over the clothes scattered on the floor, he reached his sleeping brother and shook his body hard, screaming his name. A sleepy Kaden began to accuse him of interrupting his best erotic sleep with Pamela Anderson, but when he heard what was going on, he immediately turned serious and ran to wake up their mother.

Jake knew perfectly well what had caused the house fire. In the last few months he has become more and more interested in hacking and may have messed with some dangerous people. He didn't know what the consequences of his actions would be. He was just a kid who devoted himself to his passion and went down the wrong path for many. A path from which there was no return.

The three were forced to jump and escape through the window due to the flames cutting off their access to the door. Ophelia was slightly intoxicated from the sleeping pills she had taken the night before, making her unable to drive. Jake couldn't waste another moment, his pursuers might be right behind them. After all, they must have been somewhere in the area, after all, they set fire to his house.

– Jake, where are we going? – Kaden asked quietly, scared. Usually he was resolute and exuded ironic jokes, but now he knew how serious the situation was. All he knew was that his older brother was a hacker, and he was damn good at it despite his young age. It wasn't hard to guess that it was easy to get under the skin of the wrong people.

– Somewhere far. We'll stay at a hotel. And tomorrow we'll go to grandma's. – Jake tried to calm his younger brother, even though he knew perfectly well that he would never let his problems endanger another person close to him. He didn't want to admit it, but deep down he knew what he had to do.

He was driving dangerously fast, constantly veering onto country side roads, trying to avoid the traffic. With every mile that passed, he felt worse and worse, more and more guilty.

When they finally arrived at a town that was reasonably safe from being tracked until morning at least, he accommodated the three of them at the first hotel he came across. The receptionist gave a strange look to the black-haired boy who was supporting the barely conscious middle-aged woman, but she didn't ask any questions.

They entered the room they had been given, and Jake led his mother over to the couch. Just as he was about to leave her there, he felt her fists wrap tightly around his sweatshirt, not letting him leave.

– What's going on? – she hoarsed, and the boy looked at her face with a heavy heart. Her pupils were dilated and hands were shaking. Seeing her so lost broke his scarred heart. – What have you gotten yourself into, honey? Can I help you somehow?

Jake clenched his jaw tight to keep from crying.

– No. I can handle it. – he stammered, but his mother's embrace did not ease. Even though his eyesight was beginning to blur from the accumulated tears, he managed a gentle smile. – Don't worry, mom. Everything will be fine.

– Okay. I believe you, Jake. I believe you can fix everything. But promise me something. – he stopped, looking into his eyes, wiping a tear from his cheek.

– What?

– Don't get yourself into trouble any more. – she whispered, her voice breaking. –Whenever you need me, I'll be here. Please, don't ever leave me. I need you, honey.

More tears ran down Jake's cheeks.

– I promise.

But that same night he broke his promise. He broke it when he left the hotel in the morning, leaving his two closest people there. He left a part of himself that he never got back.

4 July 2022

A young woman was awakened in the middle of the night by a strange noise coming from the living room of their temporary apartment. In the dark, she touched the place next to her with her hand, but found only an empty and cold sheet. Burnt, she opened her eyes and got out of bed, listening to the sounds coming from the bedroom door.

Finally she left it and went to the living room, and the view she found there was forever etched in her memory and broke her heart.

She found Jake there, huddled behind the couch, his face red and wet from the tears that shook his body. The girl's heart completely broke when she heard his heartbreaking sobs. His matted hair fell over his forehead. Tears ran down his pale cheeks as he placed a hand over his eyes. The sight hurt. It hurt so much. She had seen Jake lose hope and be broken many times. The boy fell many times, but that night he fell for real.

He fell the moment when he fell to his knees, tears mixing with his every breath. He fell at the point where he had no strength to fight anymore. He fell the moment his last wall fell. One she had no idea about.

Jake rarely wanted to talk about his family. MC even though she was very curious, she respected his decision and never asked. But when she heard one sentence from him, in some strange, incomprehensible way, she knew.

– She is dead. – he whimpered, barely catching his breath – MC, she's dead.

Without thinking, she ran towards him, knocking over a few things in the process. But it didn't matter. Her eyes blurred with her own tears as she knelt beside him. He was still sobbing like a baby when she wrapped her arms around him with all her strength and pulled him to her chest as if she wanted to protect him from all the evil in the world. And he let her. He leaned against her breast, which he was soaking in increasingly hot tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, kissing and stroking his hair.

There were no words that could ease his pain right now.

– Kaden contacted me. – he croaked after a few minutes – Mom suffered from cancer, recently it got worse. And yesterday she left. She's gone forever, I'll never see her again. I will never hear her laugh or see her smile.

She hugged him even tighter, trying to make him even more comfortable.

– Shhh, I'm here. – she whispered, rubbing his back reassuringly – I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.

– I broke my promise to her. I left her. I should have been there for her, especially recently when she was sick. – he said, his voice breaking and a new spasm of tears seized his fragile body. – I'm just like my father.

– Don't even say that. You saved your mother because you loved her more than anything in the world. You had to do it then so as not to endanger her. I'm sure she knew it.

MC knew perfectly well that losing a loved one was one thing, but not being able to say goodbye was another. And much more hard amd painfull.

They didn't know how much time they spent like that, but the black-haired hacker finally began to calm down. She continued to hold him like a precious treasure, kissing his soft hair. With every minute that passed, he began to breathe more and more steadily, until finally the crying stopped completely. They remained silent.

– I'm destroying everything and everyone I care about.

– No. - she interrupted him with determination, and moved away from him slightly – Jake, paradoxically you are the reason why I did not destroy myself. And I'm sure your mom wasn't angry at you. She must have felt that you were protecting her in this way, just as she had protected you throughout your childhood.

His voice was empty. Exactly as he was inside now. Jake stared blankly ahead, his face red from crying for so long. Bloodshot eyes were still a bit glassy.

MC didn't know what to do next. How to fix it. How to make Jake a little lighter. But she knew that she would do anything to bring her beloved back to peace and happiness.

– Take me to her funeral. – he whispered barely audibly, which made her hug him again – I have to .. I have to say goodbye. And apologize.

At that point, it didn't matter the government or the danger they would expose themselves to. She just couldn't and didn't want to say no.

– Of course. – she replied immediately – We will go there together.

Jake gave her a light, barely noticeable smile. He regretted so much that he had lost so many precious moments that they could have shared together. He wished he had introduced MC to his mother, the woman who had completely changed his life. He was sure she would like her. Sometimes she even resembled her. Both were equally stubborn and defended their own opinion. He would turn back time just to tell his mother how much he loves her and how grateful he is for everything she has done for him. But it was too late for that.

Ophelia's spirit, however, saw it all and was finally able to leave in peace, seeing that her son had finally found his love, soulmate, and above all, the person who saved him from falling to the very bottom.

"It was night when you died, my firefly

What could I have said to raise you from the dead?

Oh could I be the sky on the fourth of july?

We're all gonna die"

[snomji]

okay it’s time for some stardew valley headcanons for the bachelor/ette(s) so let’s GOOOO

Alex:

- he always awakes before his grandparents, and on warmer days he’ll go down to the beach to watch the sunrise.

- friends with elliot! the two of them sit on the side of the dock sometimes and just chat about life.

- knows how to make cookies, as evelyn taught him when he was a bit younger

- wary of the saloon, as he doesn’t really like the smell of alcohol and only goes into it if he’s forced to!

- if you marry him, he can and will pick you up randomly to surprise you while you’re working!

- if married, he will “bench press” your kids once they become toddlers, and it always makes them giggle

- hates the winter and gets cold really easily. on the first day of fall he’s already bundled up wanting it to be summer again.

Elliot:

- willy is like a father to him. the two of them sit on the docks and watch the fish swim by together

- sometimes he’ll braid his hair, and leah will bring flowers from the forest and weave them into his hair.

- has a rlly pretty singing voice, and likes to record piano covers in his spare time

- if you marry him and the two of u have kids, he’ll always braid their hair in the morning and tuck flowers behind their ears.

- he brings home fresh fish he caught and makes himself dinner every night. that’s why he’s an excellent cook.

- has actually caught a legendary fish before!

- his eyes change color, they can go from blue to green to brown in the same day. people call them the “prismatic shard of eyes”

Harvey:

- he’s so clumsy that sometimes he’ll even trip over air. due to this, he has little bruises all over his knees and elbows.

- his favorite animals are birds. sometimes he’ll go outside and just give them some bird seed. he loves watching them fly around.

- not only is he fascinated with planes, but he’s also fascinated with the weather. as a kid he used to watch the weather channel, and he dreamed of becoming a weatherman.

- when he needs to focus really hard, he’ll pull his hair back with a headband

- him and his mother were and still are very close, and he writes letters to her at least once a week

- he cannot cook to save his life, but he’s an incredible baker! will make you little treats if you’re friends or married

- he always wears a wristwatch, but the time is always 6 minutes behind. he likes it because it has a plane engraved into the side against his wrist.

Sam:

- he had adhd, and his stims include flapping his hands, tapping his foot and strumming his guitar

- he has a beautiful singing voice, think like wilbur soot but a bit more high pitched?

- the reason he likes cactus fruit so much is because he just plants them and lets them grow. he loves succulents because they don’t give him an allergic reaction!

- cannot play video games for shit. sebastian and abigail have banned him from multi-player games because he just sucks so bad.

- love language is acts of service, simply because he likes singing for people he cares about and doing little things for them!

- if you marry him, he will bring his guitar into the coop and/or barn and sing to the animals. they have learned to run over a greet him, since they love his singing.

- his hair is actually curly, but you’re unable to tell due to how much he gels and straightens his hair.

- has mastered the art of the puppy dog eyes

Sebastian:

- loves the hell out of halloween, but is scared of literally everything. he nearly cried watching a horror movie with sam and abigail.

- really good with a slingshot! so if he were to go into the mines, he would wreck some monsters shit with his slingshot skills

- he had glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, but removed them. he used to love the stars and space, but came to resent them because it was his sisters thing.

- he like…irl blushes. like an anime character. when he’s embarrassed, upset, flustered, his face will go all pink. everyone picks on him for it.

- has/had a crush on most of the towns singles. he is a bisexual disaster and secretly a romantic so….take from that what you will.

- a natural born ginger, but dyes his hair. he also has freckles on his nose! and he has an eyebrow slit because of a scar!!

- for some stupid reason, he takes really good care of his hands? like he always makes sure they don’t get calloused, and his nails are always painted black, despite using his hands all the time for work.

Shane:

- he cannot cook. he burned pasta noodles because he didn’t know you had to put water in the pan.

- he still has a chicken plushie from when he was a baby, and it still sits on his bed. and if he cuddles with it at night? no one needs to know.

- has a huge birthmark on his side shaped like a heart

- really good at mixology, so i think that when joja gets shut down, shane works at the saloon and makes the drinks while gus cooks. he adds a whole new section on the menu!

- friends with sebastian. they paint each other’s nails from time to time, or sit in the rain together and just talk.

- kinda strong as hell? he lifts boxes in joja for work, as well as carrying around jas, so i’m assuming he could just….pick the farmer and his friends up?

- he has the most contagious laugh, it used to be a rare sound, but now that it’s a pretty common occurrence, shane makes people laugh all the time with his own laugh.

Abigail:

- buff. she is buff as hell. her and alex work out together sometimes, since she expressed a desire for adventure. she has picked up sam and sebastian with no warning and thrown them into the ocean

- can talk to animals due to her being the daughter of the wizard! so sometimes she’ll go to marnies farm and just chat with the cows or something

- if she sees a tree, she WILL climb it. she loves it so much, it’s just so adrenaline inducing for her.

- her and sebastian tried to go into the mines before but sam stopped them because it wouldn’t have been very safe. they were all 14.

- trying to learn to play the ukulele with a little help from sam. it’s frustrating, but she really likes the sound of it, and she’s determined as hell.

- absolutely cracked at any and all video games he plays. mario kart? she will kick your ass. animal crossing? her island has 5 stars. pokémon? she always wins. you can’t stop her, she’s too powerful.

- she has glasses, but prefers contacts, since glasses would get in the way of her adventuring.

Emily:

- not only can she sew, but she also makes her own soaps and candles! any form of creation she adores.

- loves flowers, and has a lot of little potted ones in her room. she raises them, gives them little names and personalities, and then brings them to sandy and tells her all about each flower

- she can roller skate, and it’s her preferred method of transportation. she can do a bunch of fun tricks as well!

- has an eyebrow slit

- making cute little baskets of homemade gifts is her favorite thing to do for her friends. sometimes she’ll just leave them on their doorsteps for no reason other than she wants to!

- can SPRINT in heels. like even 6 inch heels she can just RUN and it scares everyone who sees it.

- she loves the sounds of birds chirping in the morning, and she’s able to identify the name of the bird by its chirping and calls

Haley:

- is able to perfectly crack and drink from coconuts. that’s why she loves them so much.

- has the worst sense of direction. she’s lucky she lives in a small town, or she’d get lost all the time

- the spring is her favorite time of year, simply because she loves to capture life coming back in those spring months. baby animals, blooming flowers, her friends on the beach or just chilling in the sun, all of it

- her most prized possession is the very first picture her and emily took as kids on their parents polaroid. it’s taped to her mirror

- has a little beauty mark under her lip, but it normally isn’t visible due to being covered with makeup!

- she’s able to do her own nails! this is because she is ambidextrous, yet she doesn’t know, because it’s never been brought up

- she fucking LOVES learning about and identifying plants, trees and flowers. she knows so many it’s crazy. she has a great memory.

Leah:

- resident true crime enthusiast and ghost hunter. she drags elliot with her around town to go hunting for ghosts. they also watch documentaries together!

- has a bunch of little scars on her hands from her artwork

- to get inspiration for works, she’ll go on walks at different times of the day, different seasons, different routes, and she’ll turn each walk into a work of art. depending on all the environment and those who she runs into, each piece is vastly different.

- animals love her, and will sometimes just follow her around for no reason. she doesn’t mind at all, she kinda loves it.

- friends with emily. they are currently teaching each other their own forms of art, since they love learning from each other!

- really good at dancing, she’ll dance while she’s working on projects and she’ll hum a song to herself

- her favorite statue was created after she went on a walk, ran into abigail, and the two of them went swimming in the ocean and stayed there as the sun set and the stars came out. she has a little crush on abigail.

Maru:

- her hair is ALWAYS tied up, it’s impossible for her to work if her hair is in her eyes

- when she was a kid she wanted to be an astronaut, because she loves the stars, but she found she prefers the science and math behind it all

- she pierced her own ears, she has little star earrings!

- watches cartoons and geeks out about them with penny when they meet up in town!

- for some odd reason, she is terrified of butterflies. no one who knows her, or even maru herself have ANY idea why, but she will run away if she sees one.

- her favorite memory was the one night her and sebastian stayed up really late as kids and snuck outside to look at the stars (back when sebastian still loved them) and they ended up seeing a meteor shower

- she presses flowers as a hobby, and just keeps them in a little notebook alongside her ideas for projects and gadgets.

Penny:

- while she’s cleaning her and pam’s home, she finds herself singing to herself. she has yet to be caught by anyone

- each day, her hair is done ever-so-slightly different. each morning, she likes to change it up, and sometimes jas or vincent will give her something to put in her hair

- also interested in ghosts, will occasionally join elliot and leah on their adventures

- she is naturally really warm, so she doesn’t have to bundle up as much during the winter. the kids cling to her because she’s like a human space heater

- has a bit of a geeky side, and she loves to watch cartoons a lot. when she can find the time, she always watches them. they being her lots of comfort.

- has a small scar on her side from when she tripped over as a child onto something sharp. she likes it because with two freckles, it makes a little smiley face

- loves the water and the feeling of sea wind in her hair. she secretly wants to learn to drive a boat, so she can feel that wind in her hair whenever she wants.

[princessfbi]

Eddie complmenting Buck and Buck ducking his head into Eddie's neck and kissing it to show his affection cause he sometimes cannot put it into words. Their two love languages, physical affection and complements. <3 :))

Oh you mean like this?

"Hey," Eddie said, slinging an arm around Buck's waist and halting Buck's direct attack towards the plate of cookies sitting unguarded on the counter.

Buck's pout slipped out as he made a grabby hand in the direction, only half heartedly fighting as Eddie pulled him into his side and steered him away. It was probably for the best anyway. He'd had more sugar in the last hour than he had in a week that Buck's blood felt like it was practically vibrating beneath his skin.

That and well, if he had to choose between cookies and Eddie then Eddie would win every time.

Buck liked how he fit next to him, tucked into his side like Eddie was sculpted perfectly for Buck to press against, hip to hip and blistering heat searing between each other. Eddie's fingers pressed into Buck's hip as Eddie dropped down into the arm chair, leg propped up on the arm so he could pull Buck down with him into his lap too.

It was one of those things they did that always made their friends tease them; joking about how there were perfectly open available spaces to sit on their own and Buck always somehow managing to bully his way into Eddie's space so they could share. Not that Eddie was much better with his tugging and pulling whenever Buck was in touching distance.

Buck curled his arm around the back of Eddie's neck, letting his idle fingers play with the collar of Eddie's shirt as he leaned into the solid warmth of his chest. Eddie sighed, content judging by the weightlessness of the sound, and pressed his cheek against Buck's forehead.

"Anyone every tell you just how clever you are?" Eddie asked, making Buck shiver at the brushing of his lips against Buck's skin.

Buck bit down on his cheek to keep from spiraling too far into thought about his answer. Because the truthful answer was no and Buck wasn't sure he would've believed it if they did. But those were doubts he was trying to learn how to set down instead of carrying them on his shoulders like weights that would eventually cripple him.

Hearing it from Eddie made it a little easier. The words heated up his skin and seeped into his muscles.

"Can't believe you managed to pull this off a second time," Eddie said as he huffed out a laugh that bloomed something warm and bright in Buck's chest.

Buck shrugged as he took in the party, Christmas decorations thrown across the loft making the open space bedazzled with holiday cheer.

"I'm just better at keeping secrets than you all give me credit for."

Eddie's arms wrapped tighter around his waist and Buck relaxed into his embrace.

"Secrets don't manage to come up with all of this." Eddie disagreed before he pitched his voice low so only Buck could hear. "Your big brain is probably one of the sexiest things about you."

Heat flushed up into Buck's cheeks in a bright red blush he ducked down to hide into Eddie's throat before anyone saw. Anyone being specifically Chim who had taken a terrifyingly amount of glee out of seeing how red Eddie could make Buck.

And look, he was used to people complimenting how he looked. He knew he was handsome with a physique he worked hard to maintain. But no one complimented the other things quite like Eddie. Things like his sense of humor, his thoughtfulness, his intelligence. The first time Eddie had done that, Buck had been pretty sure he'd melted on the spot.

It was new.

It was... nice.

Buck tipped his head up and kissed the spot under Eddie's jaw he knew Eddie secretly loved in a quiet thanks before he pressed into Eddie's touch and let the holiday joy around them lull him into a moment of quiet.