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the-eldritch-it-gay · 2 years

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Splash of Color Saturday Prompt: Tell us about important figures in the history of specific regions, and cultures, in Thedas! Past kings, queens, leaders of empires, and leaders of tribes. Perhaps there are infamous rebels, gentle healers, renowned teachers? Or someone else who has extraordinary importance to your narrative from the past? Let us remember them, here!

Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin and Aclinde

[An excerpt from a letter written by Ghi’la’nas’len of Clan Eir’melamem. Originally written in an Orlesian-Elven pidgin, it has been translated by Warden N’Abjidynen of Clan Eir’melamem]

I hear life in the cities has taken a turn, with all that’s going on with the royalty and nobles. I fear it’s not uncommon.

My dear cousin[1], have I ever told you about my clan’s history? We have a long history, of course, but your stories of your hardships working in noble estates have reminded me of one particular story. My clan has always roamed Orlais, we’ve witnessed and learned much of both historic events and mundane happenings. Some we even played a part in.

Do you know of the unrest among servants during the late Storm Age and early Blessed age? I’m sure you can assume the basis of it, I fear such unrest is ever-present in Orlais, regardless of the age. The unique part of this unrest had to do with the Keeper of my clan, at the time, Keeper Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin, and an elf named Aclinde.

Generally, our clan and most I know try to keep their distance from human cities. But one time during the late Storm age, a snow storm and damage to the aravels caused Keeper Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin to settle the clan temporarily on the outskirts of Val Firmin.

Meanwhile, in the city, the servants of the noble houses were beginning to band together. It is a familiar scene, one that had taken place before and has taken place since, as you well know. And I’m sure you are also well aware of how the nobility deals with such issues. Plenty of servants are fired at best, and at worst…

Perhaps the Creators were watching over our people that day, as one of the servants who had been fired, an elven woman by the name of Aclinde, had gathered with the others who were still free, and together they raided the jail, freeing are their fellow elves. The group thereafter split up, some going home to their families, some quickly packed up and fled towards nearby cities hoping to create a new life. Aclinde gathered a group of her own and led them south of the city, perhaps hoping to find refuge in the wild.

Her group, a few dozen elves, some children, some elders, made their way to the outskirts of the Val Firmin. It was winter, and a great blizzard soon fell upon them as they walked, freezing and with no home to return to. It was there that her group came across where Clan Eir’melamem had settled. The hunters noticed them first, and Keeper Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin was quick to welcome the group, urging them to sit by the fires, to eat, to rest. And as they did, Aclinde met with Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin, to tell them of what happened to their group and to ask for a short refuge until the storm passed.

Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin agreed, and took it upon themselves to ensure Aclinde’s group was cared for and protected. Even as city guards came looking for Aclinde and her group. When the guards asked Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin if they had seen Aclinde or her people, Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin would simply shake their head and tell them there were no strangers among their clan, they had not met or seen any servants.

Once the storm stopped, neither Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin nor Aclinde felt rushed to go off on their own ways. By the time the aravels were fixed and the snow began to melt, both groups had grown accustomed to each other. As the clan readied to move again, Aclinde met once more with Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin to speak of the future.

Aclinde felt as though she and her people had overstayed their welcome and wished to not intrude further on the clan’s hospitality. Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin, though, proposed that she and her people stay instead.

“You and I are knit from the same cloth, your people and my people are knit from the same cloth. You are free to go your own way, but do not let it be due to worries of whether you are welcome. Never were you strangers here, your arrival was not an intrusion, but rather a homecoming.”

Thus, my cousin[1], is how my clan came to be as it is today. There are many more tales I could tell you of Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin and Aclinde, if the Creators allow, perhaps you will one day hear our harhen tell you the story properly.

You might think I know not of the struggles you face in the city, and perhaps I do not first-hand. But as Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin said, our souls are of the same cloth, we are not so different. Elders in our clan are descended from Aclinde and her group, my own mother spent much of her life as a maid, my spouse was no stranger to such work, most of our clan have cousins or aunts[2] in the city. Our worlds are the same. The stories of what you face now are interwoven with my clan’s history, are told as one of our own.

Remember, we have more in common than you have with the nobility. There is always a spot in the aravels for you[3], my cousin. It is together that we can be Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin[4].

Translator’s notes:

[1] In this case, the term cousin is being used akin to an endearment or show of familiarity, rather than actual blood relation.

[2] The actual term used is a general term akin to aunt or uncle.

[3] Meaning, “You are always welcome among the clan”

[4] Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin translates to “One who searches for a gentle tomorrow”. In this case, the name is being used both to mean to live in Gwillen’il’cam’ienvunin’s footsteps, and also to do as their name means and search for a gentler tomorrow.

#splash of color saturday #DA Abjid #OC: Ghi'la'nas'len #live hasn't been kind to me recently but i wanted to do smth #clan eir'melamem is the dalish clan I have Abjid (an Orlesian Warden in DAOA) come from

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siennadraws · 2 years

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Splash of Color Saturday Prompt: For the youth across Thedas, what do their hopes and dreams look like for themselves? What are common aspirations? Do they aspire to achieve certain statuses, wealth, renown? Perhaps they understand their place in their community from an early age and seek other milestones and marks of achievement. Is “teenage rebellion” common, or less so?

@thedasincolor

In Clan Lavellan, from a young age, the youth start helping their community, working alongside their elders in whichever way they can.

It's a common sight to watch a group of young elves working a pelt while an adult is instructing them on other subjects.

When they grow up, most won't have a "fixed" job, each doing a portion of a day's work for the whole community. Even hunters or the Keeper aren't "above" basket weaving or cooking tonight's dinner. However, having plenty of free time, thanks to the hard work of everyone, makes the Clan able to pursue their artistic side.

But because of being given responsibilities early on, and having a clear place in the community, teenage rebellion isn't a thing.

The most important milestone for Clan Lavellan's youth is, of course, getting their Vallaslin. Then, they are officially adults, with new responsibilities. They are now fully responsible for their actions and are expected to know and follow the Dalish laws.

They're also encouraged to pass down their knowledge to younger generations, participate more deeply in religious activities, and speak at the Arlathvenn.

A very common dream is to find a groundbreaking piece of elvhen history since their struggles are well known from an early age.

Another common dream, this time for teenagers, is to find a Vhenan in the next Arlathvenn.

Some of the more ambitious mages dream of becoming the Clan's Keeper and the more active kids dream of becoming fearless hunters.

You'll also find it's very common for the younger elves to dream of befriending a dragon. Clan Lavellan respects dragons, avoiding their natural habitat, so children are taught that dragons have their place in the world. Not to mention their connection to Mythal, the All-Mother.

Most elves in Clan Lavellan aspire to be someone wise, and knowledgeable of elvhen lore, and hardworking, which can sometimes lead to burnouts, if the Clan doesn't notice someone overworking themself.

Terys aspired to be the Clan's storyteller, and someone who'd find and explore ancient ruins to find scraps of elvhen history. After a raid on their Clan, Terys began training as a hunter, hoping to become someone able to protect her Clan.

Fennas became the First at a very early age, due to her talent for magic and active involvement in the community. She aspires to become a great Keeper, and to prove (to herself) that she became First of her own right, not because her mother is the Keeper.

#clan lavellan #splash of color saturday #notmyblobs

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ammocharis · 2 years

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Splash of Color - DA headcanon celebration

Thanks for an awesome prompt @thedasincolor!

Tyrdda Bright-Axe, founder of the Avvar, and Hendir, prince of the dwarves, had a child together. This child became the next leader of the tribe when Tyrdda passed away. What was their name? What did they achieve? How did their parents' heritage affect them? Saga of the Avvar-Mother says little on the matter, so let me spin the yarn further.

The Rise of Heidrun the Wise

The Avvar tribe found itself in a precarious situation after breaking away from the Alamarri and leaving the Fertile Valley. They travelled to the south and west of the Lake of Tears (which became known as Lake Calenhad in the Exalted Age) where Mount Belenas once stood. The mountainous land was a harsh environment compared to the plains they had left behind. Nonetheless, the Avvar set out to make it their new homeland.

On their long journey, the Avvar took shelter from snow in a vast cave. However, they found no safety as their entrance enraged a mighty dragon. Tyrdda managed to defeat it with the help of her leaf-eared lover. Venturing deeper into the cave system, they eventually encountered a group of dwarven warriors led by prince Hendir. He was the heir to the king of the Valammar Thaig.

At her lover's behest, Tyrdda approached Hendir with a proposition of peace. The prince agreed, and the tribe began to flourish. A number of Avvar merchants and warriors were chosen to maintain regular contact with the Valammar Thaig. They started learning the Trade Tongue, which was an artificial language invented by some brilliant minds in the Merchant Caste to improve communication between distant thaigs, as the dwarves spoke a dozen of different languages and dialects at the time.

Tyrdda formed a deep friendship with Hendir. Following her lover's advice to extend her bloodline so that the Avvar tribe could remain strong, she asked Hendir to sire a child with her. When their daughter was born, she was bestowed the name Heidrun, from heiðr meaning "bright" and rún meaning "secret" or "rune". Heidrun spent most of her childhood on the surface, but she accompanied Tyrdda whenever the Avvar-Mother visited the Valammar Thaig. She often joined other emissaries as well, as she was always welcome in the dwarven realm. Heidrun learned the Trade Tongue directly from her father. Her command of the language was excellent thanks to the early start she'd gotten. Soon, she conversed in Trade fluently, even better than Tyrdda herself. She also soaked up a lot of the ancient dwarven language spoken in Valammar.

The link between the Avvar and the Valammar dwarves grew stronger each year. The Avvar brought in goods from the surface: furs, wood, mountain crystals, fresh fruit and vegetables, and so on. In return, the dwarves crafted weapons and armor for the mountainfolk to bear. It allowed the Avvar to strengthen their position and succesfully deter the most zealous followers of Thelm Gold-Handed who still carried a grudge against Tyrdda.

Due to the increased contact with the surface, the Trade Tongue began expanding its vocabulary in order to describe items and concepts that did not exist underground. Roots of these new words often originated from the proto-Alamarri language, which was spoken by the Alamarri as well as the recently established Avvar tribes. Proto-Alamarri later evolved into Alamarri, Avvar, and Chasind languages. The Avvar speech changed the least throughout the ages.

True to her name, Heidrun became fascinated by the runes that were used to record Trade Tongue. She often acted as a scribe to her mother, marking down the goods that were being sent to and from underground. When she stayed in Valammar, she perused her father's ledgers, learning about the deals that went on between different dwarven kingdoms. She had a knack numbers and could always spot an error in the calculations. When Hendir was crowned king of Valammar, he allowed Heidrun to study texts in the Shaperate library.

Heidrun did not inherit her mother's magical gift; in fact, she displayed partial resistance to spells and lyrium, a sign of her dwarven heritage. Her sleeping mind seldom wandered in the Land of Dreams. As a result, she was able to participate in the process of enchantment crafting, albeit for a shorter period of time than dwarven smiths, in order to limit the exposure to concentrated lyrium. Despite this setback, she developed a great skill in enchantment making. One of her accomplishments was designing a pattern that could protect items against the damaging effects of frost.

Tyrdda passed away when Heidrun was a young adult. As it had been planned, the Avvar-Mother's daughter became the next tribe leader. As the only remaining blood kin of Tyrdda, Heidrun had the right to decide what should happen to her earthly possessions. She gave away many of them but decided to keep the most powerful artifacts such as the famed axe. She couldn't use the fire-staff herself, of course. Instead, she intended to store them in a well-protected place so that greedy, corrupt people couldn't put their hands on them, while those who prove worthy may borrow the gifts in times of dire need. She requested help from her father to build a vault where her mother's greatest trophies could be hidden. Hendir readily provided workers and materials to construct the vault.

As a teenager, Heidrun got the idea to adapt the runes for the Avvar language. She created several new symbols to account for the sounds that didn't exist in Trade, and she was tweaking the design over the years. Following her mother's departure to the Lady's domain, Heidrun finalized the idea. The first thing she used the runes for was to write down the Saga of Tyrdda Bright-Axe that the skalds were singing. Then, she mapped out the area south of the Lake of Tears and chose eight places, one for each stanza of the Saga. In those locations, she planned to erect stone stelae that'd be inscribed with the verses. Among the letter symbols, a direction marker would be hidden. Once a determined hero would discover all secret markers, they'd be able to locate the vault. It wasn't the only safeguard that Heidrun arranged, suffice to say, Tyrdda's legacy was exceptionally well protected.

During Heidrun's rule, the Avvar forged peace with the Alamarri. Though it was fragile, no major breach of trust occurred for almost five decades. Remnants of Thelm's followers attempted to revive his cursed dream, but they were decidedly crushed by the joined forces from the highlands and the plains. The two tribes engaged in trade of goods and exchange of ideas. The Alamarri established a connection with the dwarves, following example of their Avvar cousins.

Nearing the end of her life, Heidrun suggested building a fortress on an island on the Lake of Tears. Over the years, the Avvar regained their power, now claiming most of the western shoreline. Heidrun thought it'd be sensible to establishing a vantage point on the lake. Moreover, waters of the lake were believed to possess mysterious power. Heidrun wished to study it more closely. She drew the first draft of the fortress. Soon, construction began, with help from the dwarves naturally. Heidrun lay the cornerstone, unfortunately, she didn't live to see the completion of her project. The fortress was finished several years after her death. It was named Kinloch Hold due to being located near the estuary of the lake, however, the Avvar often called it Bright Hold in honour of Heidrun. The fortress survived almost a millenium, until the Imperium invaded and tore down the hold to construct their skyscraping tower on top of its foundation.

#dragon age #splash of color saturday #avvar #my avvar headcanons #tyrdda #hendir #heidrun

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cb97percent · 10 months

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⚝ Find Me (Inside Every Heartbeat)

⚝ Lee Know x (afab) reader ⚝ 9.8k ⚝ Exes to lovers, Angst with fluff frosting, Mutual Pining, Smut with a disgusting amount of feelings ☢ Stories published on this blog are not exhaustively tagged for their entire content to prevent spoilers. See here and proceed at your own risk. — A painful breakup, mentions of previous toxic behavior, breeding kink (Minho legitimately wishes to knock mc up and the feeling's mutual), praise kink.

❥ He loved you deliriously, but it wasn't enough to keep him from letting you go. Years later, you run into each other again.

He's a dad now.

This one-shot is a spinoff from the universe of THE ZONE — Events take place much later than Minho's arc (unreleased as of July '23).

“I’m fucking poisoning you, aren’t I?”

Cavalier. Presumptuous. High-and-mighty. Show-off. A trainwreck. A goddamn fucking know-it-all.

Lee Minho.

You had found him at his worst all those years ago like a little stray cat drenched in rain, hissing at everybody who dares to come close just to make itself look intimidating. He had lost a friend and he was hurting a lot, making his defenses taller than The Great Wall. Made of iron, impenetrable almost.

You had fallen in love with his full moon smile hidden under layers of midnight brokenness.

“Do not say such things!”

“You and I both know who you really should be with,” he spat, jaw and fists clenched in unison, “We should… we should just break up.”

Another outburst again. Minho was a man comprised of intense emotions. Pleasant delight to manic euphoria, tinge of arousal to fatal lust, mild irritation to unhinged fury at record speed. You loved how passionate he was, but it was indeed true that it was hurting you every once in a while.

But calling that poison?

“Please,” you begged him in tears, “Please don’t do this.”

He loved you deliriously, but it wasn’t enough to keep him from letting you go because he thought you belonged with someone else. Someone who had a decent command over his own emotions, someone who would make you mostly happy rather than half the time. They would at least be able to stay in your good graces when their pros trumped their cons.

Whereas Minho was in a vicious cycle of erasing all the rights he accumulated with a single colossal wrong.

“I know how much I’m hurting you. It’s who I am at this point. I can’t help it,” he averted his eyes from you, squeezing his eyes to push his tears back, “Just… Don’t make this any harder.”

“Minho, please… We can get through this together. We can—”

“It’s not your job to fix me!”

And just like that, he walked away. As if all those years you had spent together were just a dream. As if all the dreams you had did not exist. As if he had never called you his sun. It had caught on so much that you wouldn’t even call each other by your names; he would call you Sunny instead, and you would call him Moony.

Sun? What sun?

Light was a social construct, and it could go to fucking hell. Ever since Minho left, it was always new moon for you, and darkness was all you knew. Everything lost its color and turned into bleak monochrome shades.

And it was getting dimmer with each passing day.

You were going crazy. You talked to your friends about the same things over and over again. Nothing was consoling you. Nothing was able to splash a bit of cold water on the hellfire that broke out in your heart. The lilies you loved so much had died. It kept raining torrents. You cried and cried and cried over him until you ran out of tears to cry. You had never felt this helpless in your life.

Minho used to sing quiet lullabies for you in his arms.

You lost sleep.

Minho used to make grilled cheese sandwiches for you on Saturday mornings.

You lost your appetite.

Minho used to draw silly doodles on post-its and stick them all over the house so that you would laugh when you saw them.

You lost joy.

You bundled yourself in your cocoon of blankets for days on end, hoping it would pass. Sooner than later. Sooner than later. Sooner. Sooner. Please, I’m dying over here.

“It’s time, sweetheart. Come on, get up.”

You were so consumed in grief that you had lost all sense of reality. To this day, you were thankful to Hyejin for dragging you to a therapy appointment that day.

It still took a long-ass time, but you at least managed to reach a state of neutrality instead of violently breaking down when you heard the name Minho. The hellfire was put out, but the gentle sizzle of the everburning amber was still there. You had no choice but to come to terms with carrying that around for the rest of your life.

When it was time to reintegrate with the rest of the world again, you even entertained the thought of having someone in your life. You went on several dates. There were people you genuinely liked among them, too, but it always ended up the same.

“You’re still in love with your ex, aren’t you?”

Maybe. You were deluding yourself into thinking otherwise, but maybe… Even after all this time…

You couldn’t help it. Minho was your first true love, so naturally, the cut he left behind was the deepest of them all. He still popped into your mind every now and then, making you wonder how he was doing. Whether he was happy or not. Whether he was thinking about you.

Whether he was regretting his decision at all.

When you woke up that Saturday, you had a really bad craving for grilled cheese, but you realized were out of ingredients. If you left right away, maybe everything would be different, but you decided to leave after taking a shower that lasted twenty three minutes. When you left your apartment, you briefly returned because you forgot to take out the trash. The cab you took ran one red light on the way, and you debated whether you should go to the bookstore now or after you finished your shopping, eventually opting for later.

…all of which cumulatively contributed to the exact moment you thought you finally went insane in front of the dairy aisle.

“Sunny?”

Keep reading

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shes2real · 17 days

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Pool Party ♡

Featuring 🌷: jimmy uso + female!reader

Warning ☁️: angst, choking, semi-public sex, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, rough sex, angry sex, mirror sex, thumb in butt (sorry!), creampie, 18+ Minors, please don’t interact. Thanks! ୨୧

Word count 🌷: 1.4k

Scenario ☁️: Thanks so much for this request! Due to the extreme weather, you’re irritable but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna disrespect Jimmy.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

As the scorching sun casts its relentless heat on the Saturday afternoon, the thought of enduring Grayson and Austin's pool party made you feel like you were truly in hell.

Jimmy, your ever-enthusiastic boyfriend, was bustling around, tossing a pack of Seagrams into a cooler.

“You ready, bae?”

“Mhm,” you muttered as you grasped your pool essentials and a handheld cooling fan, you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

The two of you got to the car and instantly you felt the rays beaming on your exposed back. You let out an exasperated sigh, sinking into the car seat with a pout.

“What’s up witchu?” Jimmy asked. His hand rests comfortingly on your thigh, a small gesture amidst the heat. But in your state of misery, even the slightest touch feels unbearable.

“Moooveeeee,” you groaned, “It’s too hot to be touching me!”

As the car's air conditioning struggled to combat the relentless heat, you flicked on your portable fan in frustration as the sweat began to form on your skin.

Jimmy tried his best to reassure you, adjusting the vents to direct the cool air toward you, but you maintained your pout the entire drive to the party.

As you stepped out of the car, the poolside atmosphere pulsated with energy and excitement.

In one corner of the backyard, guests executed impressive flips and dives into the pool, their splashes creating a symphony of laughter and cheers. Nearby, a group engaged in playful water wrestling matches.

Under the refuge of colorful umbrellas, other guests lounged on comfortable chairs, sipping cool drinks and engaging in conversations. Meanwhile, by the poolside bar, the clinking of glasses and laughter filled the air as they indulged in games and shots.

Amidst the lively scene, Greyson and Austin, approached with wide smiles and open arms, eager to welcome you and Jimmy. Jimmy, effortlessly fell into step with them, exchanging jokes and laughter as you stood off to the side, arms crossed and lips pursed.

He shot you a stern glare before wrapping his arm around you, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered, "Quit," his tone a mix of warning and affection.

As Jimmy continued to banter with the guys, you sought comfort with your friends Samantha and Bianca under the shade of the umbrella patio. “Here boo,” Bianca giggled, breaking the tension as she passed you a cool margarita and a plate of refreshing fruits. “Relax a little.”

Sipping the cool, fruity margarita, you couldn't help but moan in relief, “Oooohhh..it’s so hot out here! How are y’all so calm!?”

Samantha, her attention divided between her man and the pool, shrugged nonchalantly. "I've been distracted," she admitted, her gaze lingering on Ricochet’s athletic antics as he jumps in the pool.

As you laughed and gossiped, the sun began to descend, casting a bit of shade. But just as you began to relax, the sun returned, hotter than before prompting you to reach for the sunscreen. Before you could react, Jimmy swooped in, lifting you effortlessly and falling into the pool. Did he really just Samoan Drop you into the pool!?

"JIMMY! WHAT THE FUCKKK!?" you screamed, your voice echoing across the backyard, your anger boiling over.

Ignoring the curious glances from the other partygoers, you stormed out of the pool, wrapping a towel around yourself as you made a beeline for Jimmy, his laughter still echoing in the air.

“Why the fuck would you do that, huh!? That shit ain’t cool, bro.” Your voice cut through the chatter of the party, drawing the attention of those nearby as you unintentionally caused a scene.

“Chill o—“

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill! You already know I didn’t wanna fucking be here, then you gone sit here and get me all fucking wet!?”

Jimmy's laughter faltered, replaced by a mix of embarrassment and irritation. He tuned out momentarily, trying to shield himself from the confrontation, but the disrespect made him reach a breaking point.

He sniffed, a hint of irritation creeping into his demeanor as he rubbed his beard. "Who you talking to?"

“You, bitch!”

Jimmy's embarrassment turned to rage. With a swift motion, he grabbed you and ushered you towards the pool house, his grip firm and unwavering.

“ What the fuck you say to me?” He asked, slamming you against the bathroom door, he locked it with a click before turning to face you, his eyes ablaze with suppressed fury.

“Don’t you ever call me out of my motherfucking name, ever again,” he growled, his grip tightening on your throat. “You gon fuckin’ embarrass me and show your ass in public. Especially when someone was just fuckin’ playing witcho ass!”

You watched in stunned silence, his normal goofy demeanor was now overshadowed by anger that radiated from his every word and gesture.

“…..You got me fucked up.”

Without a word, he grabbed you by the waist, bending you over the sink. The cold, hard surface of the sink pressed against your skin as Jimmy swiftly stripped off his swimming trunks as well as your bikini bottom. His movements fueled by a mix of anger and desire.

With a forceful gesture, Jimmy hung both sets of clothing over the shower glass panel. He looked at you in the mirror with a mean mug. Before you could avert your gaze, his fingers wrapped around your jaw, guiding your gaze back to meet his in the mirror's reflection, the intensity of his stare causing the flood gates to open in between your legs.

He lifted your leg up on the sink just enough to be able to push himself inside of you. Instantly, you began to hiss at him stretching you out.

“Ssss…bae-“

“Shut up.” He stilled inside of you, to help ease your discomfort. Though he was pissed, he still didn’t want to hurt you. Once you began to get used to his size, you started to throw it back on him, which made him grip your ass tightly in both of his hands.

He drives relentlessly forward in rolling thrusts, your ass clapping loudly against him. “Oh shit!” you moaned. He pulled all the way out of you before slamming back in, watching your face in the mirror.

“Jimmy…” You whined, staring up at him as he pushed in and out of you. He deepened his fingers in your back and began giving you slow deep strokes, caressing your spot. He was way too deep for you to handle.

Your moans slipped from your mouth, you literally sounded like a porn star. He wasn’t phased at all until you managed to get louder.

“That’s ya spot?”

“Yesss—“

“Right here?” He rasped into your ear. You thought he’d slow down but on the contrary, he began thrusting harder into you. You wanted so badly to get the hell away from him.

"Fuck, Fuck, Fuckkk!" you screamed, putting your head down and gripping the sink hard enough to break a nail. Realizing that you’d gotten too loud, you tried to cover your mouth and grasp his arm to slow his strokes.

"Move. Your. Hand." He knew what he was doing, talking to you between every stroke. Looking down, he saw your cream coating his dick. You felt your core tighten as your legs shook.

Covering your mouth, Jimmy taunted you. "Why yo legs shakin' baby?"

"Talked that shit earlier, lemme hear you now.” He grinned as he quickly placed his hand on your throat, making you face the mirror.

"Pleeeaaasseeee." The words strained from his grip on your throat, you were barely able to think straight.

"Please what?" He teased, "Use your words. Whatchu’ want?" Jimmy removed his hand from your throat and put his thumb in your ass causing you to gasp.

"Cumminnnnnggg!”

Immediately getting on your tippy toes to run. Tears were running down your face as he pulled you towards him as you came on his dick. Your juices ran down both of your legs as your orgasm instantly triggered his.

He let out a low guttural sigh as he released inside of you.

Both of you froze at the sudden knock on the door, the sound jolting you from the blissful high. "Hope you kids are using protection!" Grayson quipped, his tone lighthearted yet tinged with mischief.

His teasing remark hung in the air, eliciting a nervous chuckle from both of you.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Thanks for reading babe ☁️🌷

・❥ ・ @kumapassion @romanreignsbae @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @xoxoril3yyy @rwbypatootie @solefae @adoreesun @alyyaanna @shantinextdoor @zombiedixon89 @acknowledge-reigns @nashalis97-blog @browneyedgirlfriend4l @girlnred @theasiaabattoir @glitterywitchstarlight @brienivl @melaninpvssypoppin @nashalis97-blog @truefant4sy

#wwe smut #wwe imagines #the bloodline x reader #requests! 𐙚 #jimmy uso #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso imagine #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso x reader #wwe usos #the usos

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themorriganwitch · 11 months

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The Bronco Sex Diaries Pt1

Summary: A couple of drinks at the hard deck make your boyfriend absolutely insatiable for you. Bradley just wished that Hangman would not have witnessed the two of you

Paring: Bradley Bradshaw x girlfriend!reader

Words: 1,2k

Warning: just porn, no plot, 18+ MDNI!!, oral sex (m!recieving), car sex, dirty talk, a splash of daddy kink , praise kink/ degradation kink

A/N: English is not my first language, please be aware that there will be mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated

______________________________________________________________________

You and Bradley spend your Saturday evening with the dagger squad at the hard deck playing pool and drinking beer while chatting about their upcoming mission, which will take Bradley at least 2 months away from you.

You were not entirely sure if it was because of all the shots Phoenix made your drink, the upcoming deployment or the fact that Bradley wore his brown-green Hawaiian shirt, which matched fantastically with the color of his eyes – all you knew was that the man besides you looked like a fallen god who needs to get his dick sucked as soon as you could make it work.

„Would you say that you are a focused driver?”, you say smiling sheepishly at your boyfriend.

Bradley, who is currently sitting behind the wheel of his bronco, eyes narrowed on the street and one hand resting on your thigh, shots you a confused look.

“Yeah, I think so”.

“Great”, you state enthusiastically, before you loosen your seatbelt and bend over to open your boyfriends’ pants.

“Whoa, Baby Girl. What are you doing?”, Bradley asks wide eyed, still trying to focus on the street.

“I guess that’s quite obvious, Honey. Could you please lift your hips for me?” you ask eagerly while trying to peel him out of his blue jeans.

Always the obeying lieutenant Bradley lifts his hips to give you your desired access. “Baby”, he starts but at that exact moment you slip your hand insides his briefs and instead of the words he wanted to say, he lets out a deep groan.

You slowly pump his half hard dick while you stare amazed at your boyfriend, who tries his hardest to not let fully go into your touch and close his eyes in enjoyment.

“Baby”, he murmured. “Shhhhh”, you make while pulling him out of his shorts.

“Please let me do this for you, Daddy”, you plead. “Need to feel you in my mouth so bad. Could not think about anything else while we were out with our friends. You looked so good when you played pool with Jake. Had to think about sucking you off the whole time”.

“Fucking hell”, Bradley groans. “Take what you need, Baby. I’m all yours”.

He leans back in his seat to give you better access while you sank your head down and wrap your lips around his already leaking tip.

You slowly start to get into a steady rhythm, trying to get him deeper down your throat with every bob. His right hand founds it way into your messed up hair, guiding you down his cock.

“God, Baby. You’re so good for me. Taking me so well. My perfect little slut. Could not think about anything else, huh? Always so needy for your daddy?”, he asks with a smirk.

You nod eagerly, trying to ignore the growing wet patch in your panties. The one hand which you had previously wrapped around the base of his cock, wanders lower to teasingly squeeze his balls, just like you know he loves it.

“Fuck”, he moans, happy that the car was now parked in front of a red light, giving him the chance to close his eyes for a moment and enjoy the treatment he was given.

At least until the very moment he watched a familiar looking white jeep pull up next to his window. “Fuck!”, he repeats his earlier words now completely horrified since you absolutely show no ambition to stop your motions.

No, instead you were now able to take him deep enough that the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat.

“Fuck”, he repeats again, trying desperately not to buck his hips up while no one else but Jake Seresin rolls the window of Coyotes passenger seat down and grins at him.

Bradley, who has no choice but to roll his own window down, shots you a warning glare, which you retort by winking at him, while you let your tongue follow the thick veins of the bottom of his cock.

“Bradshaw”, Hangman grins. “Long time no see”.

“Hangman, Coyote”, Bradley greets his work colleagues who he just left about 15 minutes ago.

“Where’s your girlfriend?”, Coyote asks from his driver seat, brows furrowed in concern.

“Oh”, Rooster starts, but then you gently suck his tip while squeezing his balls accordingly. It took all his willpower to not moan into Hangman’s face.

Bradley clears his throat, opening his mouth trying desperately to find an excuse he could tell his friends while you were sucking the dear life out of him.

Just before he could say something dumb, Jake stumbles as he leans his head out the window.

“Yeah Bradshaw”, Jake starts, a shit eating grin slowly starting to form on his lips. “Where is your girlfriend?”.

With a loud and satisfying plop you let go of your boyfriend’s dick and come eye to eye with your friends, while your hand wanders from his balls back to his dick, pumping him in a steady rhythm.

You smile at the two aviators. Coyote looking at you with his mouth wide open while the gleam in Jakes eyes was clearly to identify as respect. And jealousy.

“If you could excuse us, gentlemen, we need to get home cause I desperately need my boyfriend to fuck me senseless. I wish you a wonderful night”, you say kindly, still pumping Bradley who had his eyes focus on the traffic lights, lips pressed together.

You press a loving kiss to his cheek, nodding towards the lights that now switches to green.

Bradley takes the hint, pressing the foot on the gas not bothering to say his goodbyes.

“Holy Shit”, Bradley says in absolute disbelief. You smile at him cheekily. “Yeah. That was something to remember”. He rolls his eyes. “Do you at least want to finish what you started, Baby?”

“Sure thing, Daddy”, you grin, head already back on its way down his throbbing cock.

You hollow your cheeks to fit him better into your mouth, your rhythm is fast.

“Fuck”, he moans.

“Gonna reward you so good when we’re home, Baby Girl. Gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop. Gonna pull orgasm after orgasm from you. Until your thighs are soaked with the mess you made, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, and you beg me to stop. Does that sound good to you, Baby?”

You nod eagerly, knowing he was close now because you feel his cock twitching in your

mouth.

“Yeah? You wanna be my good little fuck toy, don’t you? First you want to make daddy happy with a blow job and then you want him to use your pussy. To own you? Want him to punish you for embarrassing him in front of his friends? Fuck”, he moans as he pulled the Bronco into the driveway of your shared home.

As soon as the car stand still his hips thrust up into your face, tears now streaming down your cheek as he came with a deep groan shooting his warm cum into your mouth. You swallow eagerly, lifting your head up.

“Hi, Baby”, Bradley smiles at you.

“Hi, Sailor”, you smile back. “Want to go inside and do all the stuff you promised?”

#tgm #tgm smut #top gun #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw smut #Jake Seresin #Jake Hangman Seresin #javy coyote machado #Javy Machado #bradley bradshaw imagine #natasha trace #Rooster x Reader #Rooster smut

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 20 days

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04/20/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Con O'Neill; Jes Tom; Damien Gerard; Save OFMD Crew; Relax I'm From the Future; Fan Spotlight: Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Cast Cards; Colouring Pages; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby Tonight's Taika.

== David Jenkins ==

Img Src: David's IG / Kinga's IG

Img Src: @vannakitty's IG

== Con O'Neill ==

Img Src: @CorinSilvas IG

== Jes Tom ==

On WED MAY 15th show at 9PM, Jes Tom will be at Asian Comedy Fest at Sugar Mouse in NYC! Want tickets? Visit Asian Comedy Fest

Img Src: Jes Tom's IG

== Damien Gerard ==

Damien having a lovely hair down kinda day :) Img Src: Damien's IG

== Save OFMD Crew ==

Save OFMD Digital Advertising van follow up! Last month the trust overheated halfway through the paid for window so yesterday it got it's final chance to show streamers how much we want out show back. Src: @saveofmdcrewmates Tumblr

== Relax I'm From The Future! ==

Relax I'm From The Future is streaming in AoNZ! Thank you @wastingyourgum for keeping us posted <3

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Our Flag Means Fanfiction =

Coming Monday 04/22, our awesome crewmates over at Our Flag Means Fanfiction will be running a "The Lore of the Ring" episode! Check it out when it comes out Monday!

Src: Our Flag Means Fanfiction IG

== Cast Cards ==

As always, our awesome crewmate @melvisik is keeping us busy with more cast cards! Today is Cerris Morgan Moyer, or otherwise known in OFMD as "Victoria Archer, who assured Mary Allamby that her future husband was not some derelict..." Thanks Mel!

Src: @melvisik's Twitter

= OFMD Colouring-In Pics =

More colouring pages from our lovely crewmate @patchworkpiratebear! Get your creativity on and color in some OFMD related art! I may or may not be printing these off for my son and I to work on tomorrow... PatchworkPirateBear's Tumblr

== Articles ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew on twitter highlighted some great articles over on twitter. AdoptOurCrew Twitter Article Thread Forbes Article on Black Sails (mentions OFMD)

7 Shows Like The Great

Sun Article on Historical Series

== Love Notes ==

Happy Saturday my dears! I hope you are finding some time to relax today-- it feels like this past week was like a month long! We're coming up on the beginning of the week again so please remember to get some rest tonight if you can.

Do you ever feel anxious for seemingly no reason? Do you feel like you start talking to a group and then somehow everything just feels 10 times heavier? I know I do a lot. That's the part of our brains that have been dealing with so much crap for so long that it's trying to protect us from potential emotional harm again. It's been trained to question whether or not we've said the right thing, if our tone was non-offensive enough, if we're annoying someone.

It's doing it out of protection for us, but it can make things a lot harder in the long run. If you're feeling that kind of anxiety, please remember that it may just be your brain chemistry...and most likely no ones upset with you, or feeling like you're awkward, even if you yourself feel that way. You haven't done anything wrong with engaging with others, and you certainly deserve a chance to do so. Tell your brain to take a break too-- take a shower, or a bath, or heck, just splash some cold water on your face. We are our own worst critics lovelies, and sometimes we have to put a mute button on our own inner voice to get some peace.

You're doing great lovelies. Remember that. Don't let the anxiety succeed at making you feel like you're not good enough. You are good enough, and you're doing great. Finally, here's your gentle reminder to please go eat something, and definitely drink some water. I know it's a lot just to exist sometimes, but you're making it happen, be proud of yourself for that. You got this <3 Sending love and good vibes <3.

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

While I don't personally partake-- tonight's theme is 420! Hope all who celebrated had a great and chill time <3

Gifs courtesy of @blakbonnet (darby) and @stedebonnets (ed)

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #taika waititi #rhys darby #jes tom #damian gerard #con o'neill #our flag means fanfiction

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alienturnipp · 8 months

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Update: Image description in Alt

This comic is made as the response to @thedasincolor's prompt, exploring how the Contact Clan Lavellan mission could have gone for my Ellana ✨

Splash of Color Saturday Prompt: Tell us about how different families, groups, cultures, and societies welcome visitors! When Inquisition Agents reach out to Clan Lavellan, or when they enter the Jaws of Hakkon, what might they expect to encounter? When a Warden calls upon the Legion of the Dead, how are they welcomed, and what are the customs that differ between the dwarves outside of Orzammar and those within? When we reach out to allies across the sea, or meet with diplomats from the indigenous Seheron people or in Rivain--or elsewhere? How do these welcomes differ for strangers, for armed people, for unarmed people, for children, for long-lost family?

Ellana's hand poses in the "folding betel leaf" page is heavily referenced from this video. The phoenix-wing betel and the trope of Deshanna recognizing her daughter from how the betel was prepared are also inspired by the Vietnamese folktale "Tấm Cám", which has a similar ending reveal to Cinderella where instead of the glass slipper, the King saw a set of phoenix-wing betel and immediately recognized it as being made by his long-lost love, and reunited with her at last. I've included some images under the cut of how it looks like in real life.

A noble's betel kit (with gold, silver, jade, ivory, Nguyễn Dynasty):

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #lavellan #inquisitor lavellan #ellana lavellan #hoàn anh #keeper deshanna #Deshanna Istimaethoriel Lavellan #vietnamese #alien turnip's art #alien turnip's ocs #splash of colour #splash of colour saturday #socs #shaking a little as i post this... it's still short but i've never made a comic this long!#i'm excited and also nervous!

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thedasincolor · 6 months

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Greetings, Agents!

The courtyard in Skyhold has been abuzz since another convoy of recruits arrived from far off lands--brought here not by horse-drawn carts, or even the rare dracolisk or giant nug... but, according to Agent @ruthvelyan , burros! The children are delighted by these long-eared gentle creatures, and the quartermasters are now considering them as beasts of burden. Isn't it delightful?

Splash of Color Saturday Prompt: What beasts of burden have been used throughout Thedas over the centuries? How are the relationships between different cultures and their beasts of burden different? Horses, mules, burros, oxen, yaks, camels, even dogs have been used, but what else can you tell us about?

As always, we look forward to your research, illustrations, fics, music, and more!

Ways to Participate:

try to tag all posts as #splash of color saturday

Reblog this post with your thoughts

Create a new post and tag @thedasincolor

Reblog, reply and interact with others posting about SOCS!

SOCS is our open-to-anyone headcanon celebration.

That means anyone, from any background. While our blog mainly intends to be a spotlight for creators from marginalized ethnic backgrounds, this one event is meant to encourage deeper and more thoughtful headcanons for Thedas beyond what we have been presented in game.

Pass it along and tag us! We will be looking for your ideas *for the next TWO WEEKS,* so feel free to participate at your leisure!

Want to take a look at our previous prompts? (x) We will always reblog new answers!

Have an idea for future prompts? Let us know! (x) (PRETTY PLEASE?)

#socs prompt #socs #splash of color saturday

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diaboliklove · 4 months

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an appreciation for the kindest soul of the world,

　　　　　　　komori yui

sweet smelling candles that linger on her soft fabrics she adorns her body with, old romance books battered by years of loving use, rosaries in her favorite colors, spending her saturday nights to clean and polish her nails in that pretty muted pink she loves, tying ribbons to her hair, wearing soft silks while lounging in her room, pretty accessories and books littered around her room, decorating her body in frilly girly clothes and even girlier jewelry, baking sweets at the break of dawn for others, long curled lashes that flutter as she speaks

DAILY LIFE · . 𓂃 ㅤ ୨୧ HEADCANONS

♡ིྀ wakes up the third earliest in the house

♡ིྀ needs to splash water in her face to fully wake up

♡ིྀ looks so cute all sleepy and eyes watery, part of the reason the boys always bother her right after waking up

♡ིྀ naturally blessed with clear skin

♡ིྀ only skincare she uses is a toner and moisturizer for the day

♡ིྀ hardly wears makeup

♡ིྀ has tried to wear a full face of makeup like the girls she sees at school, but thought she looked silly so she never does

♡ིྀ so, she just wears a bit of blush and a tinted lip balm

♡ིྀ doesn’t thinks she’s all that pretty, but she’s actually eye catching — the type of beauty that makes you take a double take and appreciate more and more overtime

♡ིྀ really proportionate body too, she’s thin but pear shaped with fat in just the right places

♡ིྀ the boys keep humbling her for what reason fr

♡ིྀ actually loves school and learning, really good at subjects like literature, home economics and arts

♡ིྀ would do better if like, idk she wasn’t bleeding out daily

♡ིྀ people do try to be friends with her, but yui thinks they’re just being kind and taking pity on her

♡ིྀ math and english are her downfall, she’s not bad but definitely needs to study

♡ིྀ still gets sleepy during school time, especially at 1AM, her circadian rhythm never really caught up

♡ིྀ actually makes her really happy so many of her classes are with ayato and kanato — makes her feel less lonely

♡ིྀ yui does want to join the afternoon cooking club at ryoutei, just too afraid to ask

♡ིྀ after school, she unwinds by walking in the garden or reading a book she found in the libraries inside their home

♡ིྀ can’t unwind for long since she’s bothered by one of the brothers 6/7 days of the week

♡ིྀ but actually enjoys all the time she spends with the boys when they’re not draining her dry

♡ིྀ a really active member in the sakamaki household. looks for shu for dinner and has conversations with her while walking to the dining room, helps reiji clean in his lab (she’s hoping she can graduate to washing dishes soon), hypes up ayato to finish his homework, keeps laito company in the game room, listens to kanato talk about the process of making dolls, walks silently with subaru in the garden at night

♡ིྀ it’s starting to scare some of the brothers how she’s becoming a daily part of their day now.

♡ིྀ really takes care of her body. washes daily, body scrubs and body butters almost nightly or when she has the energy

♡ིྀ boys really can’t get enough of that whiff of strawberries and vanilla thats rubbed into her skin

♡ིྀ and definitely can’t get enough of how soft her skin is, girl gets manhandled nightly

♡ིྀ since laito dropped the bomb of, “yeah your father sold you here lol” she’s stopped looking to deep into her father’s disappearance

♡ིྀ doesn’t stop her from wondering if one day, he’ll change his mind and come save her. sometimes thinks she sees him from the corner of her eye and will just whip her head around in hopes of seeing him

♡ིྀ her dreams consist of their reunion again. maybe its why its so hard for her to wake up some days. and maybe its why her eyes look especially watery in the morning.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yui komori #komori yui

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mime-the · 2 months

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Yeah it’s fanfic Saturday, I wrote a chapter one for the silly prologue thing I made the other day. Here you go for those interested…

Pure Vanilla Cookie woke up with a start, his heart pounding. Another nightmare, he thought. He listened to the soft song of one of the faerie kingdom’s many birds, bringing himself to the present moment, giving his spinning mind the time to ground itself as well. Tick… Tick… He listened to the ambient ticking of the clock. Just a nightmare. Nothing real, Pure Vanilla Cookie reminded himself.

Plenty of horrible dreams had visited him along his long life, but none quite so violent and rage-fueled as the ones that came after White Lily Cookie had sealed the Beast of Deceit right back into his prison. He knew this was no coincidence, but he had no solution... Pure Vanilla Cookie opened his eyes slightly, reaching toward his staff and sliding off his bed.

The Faeries had insisted on giving the party their own rooms, and Pure Vanilla Cookie had noticed the lilies they had decorated the room with, alongside a few other flowers. The room itself was quite spacious, a lavishly adorned shelf of books on the opposite side to silver cabinets which he had been told had extra clothes, would he need them during their stay. A mirror laid on the wall next to the cabinets, the rim had small little patterns carved around it. Patterns which the Faeries just loved to etch into many of the things they built.

There was a desk near one of the windows, holding a lamp and writing utensils. It was often a comfortably warm spot in the room, where Pure Vanilla Cookie often found himself sitting to watch the birds outside and drink tea whilst thinking about the council and his friends. His bed was adorned with soft cream colored fabrics, a splash of blue flowery patterns here or there among them. The bed sheets were white, stripes methodically sewn into it like chocolate drizzle. He was grateful for how comfortable the bed was, but despite his attempts it never granted him a fulfilling night’s rest.

He walked to the mirror, fixing his hair and getting dressed for the day in his typical attire, then folded his pajamas and fixed the bed. He moved soundlessly to the window, taking in the humbly peaceful sight of the Faerie Kingdom. Pure Vanilla Cookie was glad to have helped bring the calm and stop the chaos Shadow Milk Cookie had sewn right through it.

He frowned… he hadn’t really done all that much, did he? It was White Lily Cookie’s wise thinking that had actually resolved all this. He’d just gotten strung up and held hostage. Pure Vanilla Cookie held his hand up to his head, it’s too early to start thinking such thoughts. He should at least get something to fill his stomach for the time being. The ever-present feeling of being watched only grew stronger as he made his way to the door.

He walked out through the elegant silver halls, saying his hellos and good mornings to the stray Faerie here or there, reminding himself to be thankful of their hospitality. Pure Vanilla Cookie made his way to the cafe which he had been introduced to as soon as the party had decided they’d be staying here until word got back from the other members council. He noticed Gingerbrave and his friends already there, and it didn’t take long for them to notice him too.

“Pure Vanilla Cookie! Come here! You HAVE to try these jellies, they’re sooo good,” Gingerbrave shouted, before stuffing his face once more. Pure Vanilla Cookie couldn’t help but smile as he walked closer. He sat down on one of the metal chairs they had set on the outdoor tables, three little cookies talking to each other. “Gingerbrave, I think you should slow down…! We don’t want you to get sick,” mumbled Strawberry Cookie, watching her friend with a worried expression. Pure Vanilla Cookie let out a little laugh, “You’re enjoying your stay here by the looks of it.”

“Yes! The Faeries really know their stuff when it comes to the food,” Gingerbrave commented, between mouthfuls of food. Pure Vanilla Cookie observed what they were eating. An assortment of jellies, varying in size and color and a few little berries to accompany them. Wizard Cookie piped up, noticing Pure Vanilla Cookie’s interest, “They said these jellies were mixed with Honey, giving them their gold color. We’ve had a few before back at the feasts but I never got to see them for too long… ahem.” He then motioned to Gingerbrave, which was now lying on the table, face flat against the wood, lightly grumbling.

Strawberry Cookie had picked out a berry, and frowned at him. Pure Vanilla Cookie was glad the kids were having a better time than he was here. He himself picked up one of the smaller jellies, never having much of an appetite. “How have the Faeries been to you?” He questioned, before taking a few polite bites. “They’ve been really nice! One of them has taken it upon themselves to teach us some more stories, separate from the Beasts,” Strawberry Cookie told him, now patting her friend on the back as he visibly regretted his decision.

Wizard cookie lit up at the mention, nodding vigorously, “Oh yes! It’s very interesting to learn the history of the Faeries. They hold Elder Faerie Cookie and White Lily Cookie to very high regard in their stories.” Pure Vanilla Cookie chuckled, “I’m very happy to know that you’re all feeling as welcome as me.” The little group talked for a while longer, sharing laughs and stories here and there. Pure Vanilla Cookie then nodded to the young cookies, having eaten his awkwardly small fill, “Well, you should make sure Gingerbrave makes it home to his room without too much of an issue. I am in the mood to go feed the birds. Have a good day, you three!”

“Goodbye Pure Vanilla Cookie!” called Strawberry Cookie as he left, turning back to talk to Wizard Cookie. Pure Vanilla Cookie walked down the paths of the Faerie Kingdom, the ones he’d chosen to familiarize himself with. It was now, away from his friends, that he felt that glare boring into every part of his dough. He tried to ignore it but the thought always gnawed away in his mind.

Eventually he’d made his way to the little clearing he had found whilst walking through the kingdom, a calm little place where birds curiously flew to peck at the floor and pick up branches. Pure Vanilla Cookie sat down on the silky grass, carefully placing his staff on the ground next to him. “It’s a wonderful day… is it not?” he thought out loud, looking at his staff as if it’d respond. It just gave him a silent look before closing its eye and resting.

Pure Vanilla Cookie sat there, thinking to himself for a few moments before taking out the bag of seed he had brought with him and throwing some in an arc around him. He watches as a few yeast birds fly down curiously and begin pecking at the birdseed. These little birds were the main inhabitants of the Faerie Kingdom, a combination of the blue birds he was used to seeing back in his own kingdom and the yeast spores that wandered the forest. He watched them gladly, holding his hand out to let one land on it. Pure Vanilla Cookie held his hand there as one of the inquisitive younger ones landed on it, and he gave it a few little scratches.

Just as he watched the little bird fly off happily, he heard an all too familiar voice call out from within him, laced with pure fury “You fool.”

#cookie run kingdom #crk fanfic #pure vanilla cookie #this was pretty silly to write #at least 3 people want me to write this thing and that’s enough motivation for me lmao #the skrunkler may not have a good time #shadow milk cookie #he’ll be very prevalent later

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mollymooo · 5 months

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Say that again?

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: It doesn’t take much to crack Dr. Spencer Reid but when face to face with the most attractive person hes’ ever seen it doesn’t take much to get him tripping over his own words

au: BARK BARK HES SO FINE anyway this is my first ever fic on tumblr so please show me mercy and give constructive criticism thanks

I fiddle with the stray piece of hair that fell across my forehead, tucking it back into place as I maneuver around the coffee shop, I smile at the barista who usually takes my order everyday and wait patiently for my drink to be made.

The cafe was unusually busy this morning, although that should be expected for a cold Saturday morning. Patrons looking for an alternative to standing out in the cold air. I smile slightly as the warm aroma of coffee wafted through the crowd of people, but my moment of temporary peace is interrupted as someone bumps into me rather harshly. I stumble slightly and turn around quickly to meet whoever just shoved me

“I am so… sorry.” A rather tall gentleman tucks a strand of long curly hair behind his ear as he stumbles through his apology. His expression was worried and his hands reached out slightly before snapping back to his sides

“Don’t worry about it..” I smile slightly at his nervous expression and pat down coat while I take note of his outfit. “Nice scarf, the purple compliments your skin tone” I smile gently as I take a bit of his long purple scarf between my fingers to feel the fabric

His eyes shoot down to where my hands are and they quickly look back up to my face where our eyes meet. He quickly shakes his head, reminding me of a dog for a second before he coughs slightly and blinks hard. It was like he was doing a full system reboot just to be able to talk to me

“Sorry, could you say that again..?” He looked back down at my hand as I pull it away from the soft scarf

“I was just saying your scarf was nice. It looks good with the whole ‘Harvard student meets librarian’ look you have going on” I smile slightly as his eyes widen at my compliment, Not sure whether he took it as one though. “And the purple adds to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ moment”

“Thank you..! Purple was used to represent royalty through history, but.. uh, it’s more commonly associated with mystery or even magic so.. your idea isn’t too far off the mark.” He mumbled slightly and once he looked up from his hands and saw me smiling slightly, his hands fumbled with his hair and a small blush crept up his face “Sorry..”

“Don’t apologize! My favorite color is blue, and scientists have linked the color to a feeling of calmness.” His eyes light up slightly as I spoke, he seemed happy that someone was willing to not only listen to his rambling but add onto it

“Well, not just calmness but it also helps regulate your breathing and heart rate. In fact, a lot of office buildings use blue to encourage productivity and creativity.” He smiled while he talked and tucked his hands into his pockets “It’s also the rarest color to occur in nature. Bet you can’t name any blue foods.” My eyebrows knit together as I try to scramble my brain for a blue food

“Blueberries?” I giggle slightly as he points at his scarf

“Ah! Blueberries are purple. Misleadingly named, I know.” He smiled, seeming to have relaxed slightly

“Alright know-it-all, are you an artist or something?” I cross my arms while looking up at him with a sly smile

“No, just a bit of a genius” He joked slightly “I’m Spencer. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“I’m Y/N” I jump slightly as my name is echoed back to me when the barista calls my name and calls Spencer’s almost immediately after. I watch his hands as he reaches for the pitch black coffee and I feel a bit embarrassed as I reach for the creamer with a splash of coffee I call a drink. We walk to the exit together and I wave slightly as we walk opposite directions

“I’ll see you around, genius” He laughs slightly and waves as well as I leave the cafe.

I hope I see him again soon..

AHH ok hi! my names molly nice to meet you :D this is not my first fic but my first time on tumblr so plz leave suggestions!!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #idk how to tag #oneshot #help me #HE SO FINE #BARK BARK

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passivenovember · 1 year

Text

wait until you taste me

Max says the dumbest shit in the world.

Billy forces himself, tooth and nail, to give the grace he never got to touch with his own two hands. She’s a teenager. She’s dumb and her nature is rose-colored. Heart-shaped fillers slipped covertly in that delicate space behind a splash of blue.

Her head is filled with hot air. Good intentions. Speckled with delusions that are charming when she’s not so reckless, and.

Billy doesn’t want to smash her hopes on ground in front of her.

Life will, eventually.

Life always does, but. Billy figures he could try and be the storm wall that protects her garden of wonder.

He gets over that real quick when she can’t do the same in return.

When she bats her eyelashes and says, “I’m glad you and Steve are friends, now,” at Sunday dinner the week before Spring Break.

In front of everyone.

Billy thinks her head is the size of the Hindenburg. She’s full of helium and she’s flying too close to the sun.

Neil tucks a wad of flavorless peas into his mouth. “Who’s Steve?” He asks.

And immediately, Billy’s walls shoot like salt pillars from the ground.

He weighs his options. What would happen if he got up from this table and ran? If he tucked Steve Harrington and his name and his reputation and his memory into a plastic bag and disappeared.

Billy’s got delusions of his own.

He’s full of quilted daydreams, stitched from every moment Steve has ever looked, smiled, laughed at one of Billy’s jokes. The thread is golden, the color of every late-night promise to drive Billy across county lines.

Billy’s delusions are plushy-soft comfort he’s not ready to bring out of the closet.

So he takes a sip of water. “Steve,” Billy says. “He’s. Steve Harrington.”

Neil leans forward. “Harrington?”

“Yes sir,” Billy wills his voice not to crack.

He’s reluctant to spoil this part of his exile. To call the hounds in, bloodthirsty, to trample and tear the thing he’s clutching like a spot of gold to his chest. He digs his heel into Max’s foot under the table and wishes he wasn’t in his Saturday lounge-around clothes. He yearns for his boots, to break a bone. Eye for an eye, to somehow cancel the marrow that’ll splinter in his face when Neil finds out the truth.

“Good family,” Neil says. Every syllable lands like crystalized hail. They clink and roll and clatter all around the dining room. “Might be a good influence.”

“He is good,” Max says happily. She kicks back. It stings. “Billy and him–”

“He and Billy,” Susan chimes, and Billy thinks how ironic that Susan would choose now to become a real person when she’s usually set dressing.

Reanimation, just to fire a canon and contribute to the sinking of Billy’s battleship.

Billy dabs his mouth with a wadded-up paper towel. “May I be excused?”

Neil’s eyes snap to, and for a single, terrifying moment, Billy thinks he remembers. Carlos. The Pier. California. He wasn’t too drunk, he wasn’t irate, he remembers–

But Neil. He nods, brows knitted with faux worry. “Everything alright, son?”

He only lives up to Billy’s expectation of him when it’s deserved. When Billy’s done something besides breathe, one inhale after the next.

“Just tired,” Billy says. Wonders what would happen if he ran.

–

Max says the dumbest shit in the world.

She’s a chick. She’s a girl with an attitude the size of Missouri and a tongue that can pierce the skin, and that’s where their similarities end, careening over the mouth of a cliff into nothingness.

Billy learns early on that if he wants any peace at all he’d better tune her out just short of plugging his ears with cotton and bloody fingertips and dynamite, so when the wailing reaches a fever pitch he can blow his head off and float far away from here.

Sometimes, though, Max’s scowl will clear and it’s like the Oracle is speaking through her.

You know, this garbage disposal noise you call music actually rocks. Or, I’ve been thinking about piercing one of my ears. It looks cool on you, I guess. And, when Billy needs to hear it most, your dad’s such an asshole.

She’s a wrecking-ball with no awareness of her swing.

And when she speaks, it’s not the same as I understand.

It’s not, I look at Neil, I see the way he wishes you were dead and I get it, now. Why you’ve always got a lit match in your palm, ready to burn the world to the ground.

When Billy least expects it, Max’s words are daybreak. Filled with light so blinding Billy's a bug under a microscope, slowly catching fire.

Two days before spring, Max slams out of her bedroom while Billy’s working on his bench press.

He hardly notices.

He’s floating, a little. Like a balloon. He’s listening to the new Tears for Fears album because Steve’s obsessed with it, and he’s pretty when he’s excited, and Billy’s a sucker for the plush, wide-lipped smiles that drip like gold from Steve’s face. “They’re good, Bills. They’re like if Halloween and Valentine's day had a baby.”

Billy’s stuck in a ground-hog day memory of the way Steve’s hair flopped into his eyes when he promised, “They’re like us.”

And.

Billy’s not paying attention. He’s at least twenty shoulder-presses in, he’s smiling, he doesn’t really notice when Max’s heavy, sock-feet steps don’t carry on through the living room, and that’s his first mistake.

Before Billy knows what’s happening, Max looms over him.

He feels, like the distant brush of a spiderweb on his back, Max glaring. Searching his face.

But Billy’s a ship lost in a sea of brown eyes.

He almost can’t find it within himself to be pissed that he can smell the peanut butter on her breath, almost, but then Max says, “You know Steve wants to kiss you, right?”

And Billy sits up so fast that he almost knocks himself out on the barbell.

“Woah, you’re bleeding,” Max steadies him, brows pinched with concern. “Are you–”

“You can’t say shit like that.”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious.”

Immediately, something warm starts to trickle over the right side of his face. “Shit,” He says, at the same time Max howls, “Oh, god, you’re bleeding–”

“What the fuck did you think would happen?” Billy tries not to move his head too much. He grips the edge of the bench until the leather splits like canyons until he’s sure the pads of his fingers will separate, too.

“I’m sorry,” Max babbles, “I didn’t mean to–”

The house is silent.

Beyond the throbbing in his skull and past the strangled, nervous way Max is breathing while she waits for him to strangle her to death, there’s nothing.

All of Hawkins might as well be gone. Deleted from the page like a bad line of poetry. Billy wonders what would happen if the drapes parted from the window. Would anything stare back at him? Streets and mailboxes and cloud-covered skies. Would the black cosmos would press hard against the glass, would their refuge of plaster and slate would crumble under the weight of the universe–

“They’re not home,” Max says. Every space monster to his roost.

Billy nods, wincing at the pain that fries and curdles behind his right eyebrow.

Max steadies him. “Shit, do you need some ice?”

“Don’t need ice, I need a rag,” Billy says, “And a beer.”

“You don’t need a beer.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m serious,” Max tells him, arms crossed. “If you have a concussion the last thing you want to do is get drunk–”

“I’m not gonna get drunk off one beer, shitstain.”

“Billy.”

“Max,” Billy snarls, working to push his voice fifteen octaves higher until they sound exactly the same.

Max lopes furiously down the hall, returning a second later with crisp, beaded PBR in one hand and a wet rag in the other. Billy dabs his brow with the scratchy fabric, knowing Neil will reem him later for getting blood all over Susan’s good cloth.

Billy can’t think about that, now.

He reaches for the PBR and Max tugs it out of reach.

“Max–”

“I’m just. In biology, we’ve been reading about fetal alcohol syndrome.”

Billy feels like he got pushed in front of a train and whacked his temple on a railroad spike. “I’m not a fetus.”

“No, but our bodies are still developing,” Max says, like Billy’s an idiot. He’s thick and dumb and ridiculous for not paying attention in eighth-grade science class and knowing that the legal drinking age is twenty-one for a reason.

Billy doesn’t give a damn about that. “You made me split my brow, dipshit.”

“That’s not really my fault,” Max bargains. “I was just saying that Steve–”

Billy yanks the beer from Max’s hands. “Shut up,” He insists, nails burrowing under the pop-top, but just as Billy’s about to crack the seal and give himself over to the only thing in the world that would soothe his agony, Max is on him.

“I’m worried about your brain,” She says, just short of tackling him off the bench, and.

Well.

She hollers. When she’s keeping secrets. When she’s trying to get her way. And Billy squints his eyes, ready to reiterate she has nothing to worry her stupid redhead over and it’s not really her place to worry about him, anyhow–

“You might have a concussion.”

“And you might have a death wish.”

“What’s it taste like, anyway,” Max wonders. “If it’s so good. It looks like root beer.”

“It tastes like piss.”

“Why do you drink it so mu–” When Billy glares, sharper than a new glade, Max bristles like a porcupine, “Look, I’m sorry I scared you��”

“You didn’t scare me,” Billy snaps. Spiders scare him, locked jaws and missed curfews and slashed tires scare him. Not little red-headed stepsisters who can’t mind their fucking business.

Billy wants to throw the PBR at her.

Steve scares him. Steve–

Billy presses the can to his eyebrow, instead, hissing through his teeth at the feeling.

Max’s shoulders drop, “Thanks for not drinking it,” She mutters, and it’s so sincere, so steeped in the sisterly worry Neil’s always preaching about, that Billy can’t swallow the question that bubbles up his throat like strawberry perfume.

He has to know, “Why do you think Steve wants–”

“Whenever he watches you talk he always gets that look on his face.”

“What face?”

Max’s sneakers sing on the hardwood, dragging like nails against the chalkboard in Billy’s mind that’s been scrubbed clean and scribbled with Steve’s name, over and over and over again. “The blank one. You know, like when boys are about to kiss you and every thought flies out of their head like–”

“How do you know what that face looks like,” Billy demands, stomach turning over on itself when her freckles burn away in shades of red.

“Lucas–”

“God, that’s sick.”

“Don’t be an asshole. Just because Steve’s a loser and you’re a raging dickhole with a face only a mother could love–”

Billy winces, his molars grinding. It has nothing to do with the pain. Nothing to do with split brows and annoying sisters. “You’re one to talk, I can’t even look at you without wanting to Ralph.”

Max rolls her eyes. Deflates. “Sorry,” She says, soft and small, and.

She’s eyeing the PBR. Neil would kill Billy if he ever found out, but.

Billy cracks the beer and hands it to her. “Get lost before my head stops swimming.”

–

Steve’s fridge has the warmest light Billy’s ever seen, but maybe Billy’s just high.

The glow cuts him from marble. He’s the work of artists long dead, the picture of beauty. Billy sways against the kitchen sink, feeling very much like he could fall asleep to the soft harmony of ketchup bottles and pickle jars making a grab for the fairytale prince.

It’s Friday. Just before spring break. They’re staring down a two-week barrel of nothing but lazy mornings and hazy midnights and each other.

Miles and miles of nothing but this.

Billy’s excited. He could live forever in this moment, and the thought bubbles laughter out of him, surprised and happy.

Steve looks at him, startled out of thought. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

Steve smirks, and. His nose is perfect in the refrigerator light. Billy never noticed before. He re-shelves a jar of olives, the fancy cheese-stuffed kind, and tugs a hand through his hair. “What are you even hungry for?”

“Whatever you want,” Billy chews on his thumbnail, stomach churning.

“Nothing sounds good. I don’t think I’ve got food in here, anyway.”

Billy watches him open a bag of sliced cheese. Is so warm and content he could fall asleep next to the bread box. “What do you call that?”

“Not food.”

“It’s food.”

“It’s ingredients, that’s not the same thing,” Steve pulls a slice from the bag, folding it a million times until it splits evenly down the middle.

“It’s food, Harrington, it’s a whole meal,” Billy smiles in spite of himself when Steve nibbles on one half and holds the other, grinning, out in front of him. “No, I’m not–”

“Don’t even try it, Hargrove, I know you get the munchies when you’re stoned,” Steve wiggles the cheese at him, eyes big and brown and as expectant as they are beautiful, so.

Billy pops the cheese slice and eats it without tasting anything.

Steve watches him, unblinking, “Well, what do you think?”

“It’s cheese.”

“Yeah, but you’re not full, right? Because there’s only more of that if we stay here.”

“Where else would we go?” Billy frowns, not getting it. The cheese is better than the single-packaged shit Susan gets from Melvalds. It’s smoky, and aged, and Billy could polish the whole bag if he wasn’t worried about the cheese farts.

Steve fiddles with the corner of the bag, avoiding Billy’s eyes, “We could go out–”

“Close the fridge. You’re letting all the cool air out and now our dinner is gonna spoil.”

“Our dinner is not a bag of cheese,” Steve grumbles, but he hip-checks the door, collapsing onto his elbows in front of the paper towel dispenser. He tugs at his hair until it looks like it hurts, until his sprouting laugh lines disappear, and Billy hates it.

He wants them back.

He swims through the fog, trying to think of something funny to make Steve smile, but Harrington’s already pushing away from the counter, frown deep-set. “Why don’t you ever wanna eat anything when you’re here?” He demands.

And Billy can’t say that it’s the fault of his kid sister. That her insane, paranoid ramblings about love and blank expressions have gotten under his skin, and now everything Steve does feels like the start of something else.

Billy can’t admit that he wants it to be something else, so. “I eat popcorn sometimes.”

“I’m not talking about snacks, I mean real food,” Steve says. He studies Billy’s face, “Do you get your energy through photosynthesis or something?”

Billy laughs, loud and sudden. “No, I just–”

“I could cook for you.” Billy almost brains it on the spotlessly tiled floor because Steve’s eyes get bigger, somehow. Sparkling with earnestness. Steve shuffles, hands on his hips. “I want to cook for you,” He says, like it means something else entirely.

And whatever it is. Billy can’t handle that.

He bristles, says, “I don’t feel comfortable eating anything that costs more than the house Max and I live in,” Hoping it’ll sink the lifeline Steve’s trying to throw him.

“It’s just organic shopping,” Steve shoots back.

Which. “Huh?”

“It’s got like, less sugar. And preservatives, or something,” Steve shrugs, tongue darting pink and swift across his cupid’s bow. “My mom does the shopping when she’s home.”

Billy frowns. “Well, I’m not eating half of your mom’s paycheck. What will you eat?”

“You know, making dinner for you means I’ll get some, too,” Steve says. A smile tugs lazily at the corners of his perfect, clever mouth, and Billy is swallowed by anticipation.

There’s nothing he loves more in the entire world, probably, than seeing the subtle birth of each smile. The way Steve paints them on as if he were writing secret letters addressed to Billy, slipping them between the folds of conversation so Billy is surprised whenever they unfurl and bloom like tulips in the springtime.

Steve’s eyes hunt over his face, “You’re sure you’re not a plant? A sunflower?” Steve asks. He scoots close, fingers reaching to tilt Billy’s head toward the kitchen light, “Look like one to me,” He says, and.

Out of nowhere, his face goes carefully blank. His eyes land somewhere and stick, like the spindly legs of a fly to trapping paper.

Steve is watching Billy’s mouth.

He’s leaning forward, he’s–

Somewhere, in the back of Billy’s mind, Maxine bangs on a door labeled No Admittance, hollering about the way boys look when they want to kiss you.

It scares Billy, how much he wants it.

How much it would kill him if it never happens.

“I’m not a fucking plant,” Billy says, shrugging away. He stares wildly around the kitchen, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. “This kitchen is disgusting.”

Steve watches him, quietly amused as Billy pretends to find something on the counter to scrub.

Billy works a damp paper towel over every inch of the counter, putting an island between them so Steve doesn’t have the chance to swoop close. Get his hands on Billy’s face.

Those fingertips would send sparks flying.

Billy would char and burn and bubble over, so.

Steve watches him for a quiet moment and Billy avoids his eyes, terrified of what he’ll find when he has to stop scrubbing the counter. “What are you doing?”

Eventually, the marble will come away on the paper towel. “Cleaning,” Billy says. “If we’re going to eat a bag of cheese in here, it’s gotta be spotless.”

“Wanna go to Benny’s?” Steve asks.

Billy stares at him, then, stomach growling on command.

Steve’s answering smile is brighter than the harvest sun. Billy could sprout into fields of marigolds, he could be picked and kept forever in a vase on the fireplace mantle. “I don’t want you to feel like you’ve gotta clean up after me,” Steve tells him.

Guilt, sharp and swift, pangs in Billy’s stomach. He wants to insist that it’s no bother. That he’s used to cleaning up after Max and sweeping away the delicate bits of himself that clatter to the ground. And even if there were fruit punch stains all over the marble, the remnants of Steve living everyday in this house, Billy wouldn’t mind cleaning up after him.

Billy wouldn’t mind taking care of him.

Steve shuffles around the island, smile sheepish and cute. “C’mon, we can have pancakes.”

“I want chicken strips.”

“Alright.”

“And a double chocolate rootbeer float with ranch–”

“For your ice cream?” Steve teases, “That’s disgusting.”

“For my fries, asshole,” Billy shoves him playfully, “Do you want to feed me dinner or not?”

Steve rocks away and lands closer, cheeks red like strawberry ice cream, “I want to do a lot of things for you,” He admits quietly, and.

That face is back again.

Billy wants to pull away, but he’s caught. Steve catches him, hook and line, says, “Billy–”

And Steve kisses like he’s never done it before, but has always wanted to try. Like he’s been waiting his whole life and every one before that for Billy. For this moment. High spring nights and empty stomachs and yearning, soft as fresh soil.

His fingers thread into the curls at the base of Billy’s skull.

Their knees bump together, Billy grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders to stop from falling back against the trash can.

The kiss opens up.

Gets sloppy and good and Billy could live here forever. His lips could swell and melt into Steve’s and it would be perfect.

Steve pulls away, but he stays close. Their lips brush on every desperate breath. “Sorry my kitchen is disusting,” He says.

Billy can’t think straight. “I’ll clean it for you.”

“Let’s stay in,” Steve says. He kisses Billy’s jaw and both eyelids, licking slowing into his mouth.

Billy throws the paper towel in the garbage can.

For the first time in his life, he’s full.

For an anonymous donor! I hope you enjoyed this drabble :)

#harringrove #harringrove for turkey #fluff

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random-french-girl · 1 year

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Hey @jimalim... I know it's been FOREVER but I have not forgotten about this, and I happen to have some time today, so, here are a few thoughts:

I think the first few days, maybe the first week, they don't do anything apart from figuring out their new life (finding the apartment and getting a job and working on their cover story and waiting for news or orders from the OCS and planning out Ava's training). But as they get settled, I love the idea of the two of them finding... not quite hobbies, but small activities to do in their downtime, that they enjoy?

a) Ava takes swimming lessons at the public pool, and when the class ends she keeps going to the pool, because she finds out that she loves the water - floating makes her feel free, strangely, weightless and peaceful ; she likes the burn in her muscles when she swims laps ; and she LOVES organizing cannonball contests with all the little kids she met in swimming class, and splashing everyone, even (especially?) when it ends with Bea scolding her and then wrapping her in a huge fluffy towel and offering to dry her hair.

b) Beatrice goes to the public library at least twice a week. She stays there for an hour or so, perusing the shelves, pulling out books that she's curious about, reading in the quiet room, in one of the comfy armchairs. She also brings back books for Ava - Ava gives her very broad directions, like "i want to read about mushrooms" or "get me the most romantic story they have" (that request makes Bea unreasonably nervous), and Beatrice loves trying to find the perfect pick for Ava - she misses research! - and loves Ava's delighted reaction every time.

c) They both start going to the farmer's market that takes place every Saturday morning in the town square. Ava chats up all the vendors, learns their names and their entire family history ; she makes friends with an old shepherd selling goat cheese, and with the woman who sells honey, and always comes back with gifts, and gossip. Beatrice wanders through the fruits and vegetable stalls, internally making their weekly meal plan as she goes, and allowing the purchase of small treats (fresh strawberries, a still-warm brioche, the most beautiful tomatoes) that she pretends are only for Ava's sake, though she enjoys them just as much as Ava.

d) They take turns cooking. I know a lot of people believe that Beatrice can't cook - not me! I think she can cook very well, she has all the technical skills, and she's used to it too, since meal preparation was part of the collective life at the convent. But she doesn't take a lot of pleasure in cooking - it's just a necessary chore for her. Ava, on the other hand, LOVES cooking, because it's so new, and it reminds her of Mary, in Matteo's restaurant. She's very enthusiastic, and creative, which sometimes leads to utter disaster, and sometimes to absolute masterpieces that she is completely unable to recreate.

e) Beatrice likes to pick flowers. The alpine meadows are filled with wildflowers, this time of year, and whenever she takes Ava out for a day of training, she can't resist plucking one, maybe two, on their way back, and inhaling the scent, and brushing her fingers along the soft smooth petals, and enjoying the vibrant colors. The beauty of flowers is one of the few things she still finds easy to praise God for. She doesn't think Ava notices, because Ava is either trailing a few feet behind her, grumbling and sweaty and muttering about very unfair training coaches, or distracted by a baby cow, or, more rarely, walking quietly beside her. But Ava does notice, and one day Beatrice comes home after a day shift to find an enormous bouquet on their rickety kitchen table. Ava spent the day picking flowers for her, she explains, both obviously very proud of herself, and also visibly flustered, for some reason, and Beatrice's stomach does a weird swoopy thing that she decides to ignore, but she's smiley and warm and fond all evening, and doesn't even protest when Ava makes her watch some dreadful Swiss reality TV.

#avatrice #ava x beatrice #warrior nun #i had to limit myself actually cause i have. so many headcanons about switzerland - as we all do...#anyway. my kingdom for a drawing of ava faced with a baby cow for the first time and beatrice handling the cuteness overload poorly #jimalim

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