#Life's Sweet Bells

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Life's Sweet Bells

A COD Farm Sim AU with some omegeverse splashed in!

Meet the Town!

John Soap Mactavish - Clean and green, with a scent like shortbread and rose,  you can see how the wiley alpha Soap got his nickname. Soap runs the neighboring livestock farm. Soap specializes in critters big and small, from velvety eared rabbits to towering horses. He prides himself in his work, and his animals usually run best in show for the town's yearly festivals. When not at the farm, Soap can be seen chatting it up at the blacksmith's or having an evening pint at the inn. With a friendly smile and sunkissed skin, could Soap be your first friend??

John Price. Or rather Captain, formerly. John is an alpha that once ran the town's mines with a tight efficiency. Slaying the monsters therein and emerging with jewels and ores a plenty. Since the town's devastating earthquake the mines have since been closed. John stubbornly remains, clearing the mines on his own. Though his ink and coffee scent permeates the artifacts wing of the local museum, a responsibility he shares  with Alex. John is considered an expert in monsters and hidden treasures. During down time John is down at the docks with Farah and Nik.

Simon Ghost Riley. Formerly Price's right hand in the mines, and now the town's blacksmith, Ghost stands tall and aloof. Pale arms lined with scars, and soot stained fingertips. Some say his room is lined with awards for his craft. Ghost can make anything, and is responsible for a lot of specialty items for the whole village, special swords and crossbows for Price. Stronger tools and equipment for Gaz. He doesn't say much to you when you show up, and you assume the mask is to protect his face, though he never takes it off.  What's more odd is the syrupy sweet scent buried under all the brimstone. 

Kyle Gaz Garrick. Kyle is a master of his craft and does the bulk of the repairs and renovations around the village. (As well as some of its more charming cosmetics) With the help of Ghost and Price, Gaz is slowly but surely piecing the town back together after the earthquake. Kyle is renown in town for his delicate work and eye for detail. Despite popular beliefs Kyle is a calm and laid back Alpha, with a fresh and citrusy scent that's almost hypnotic. Kyle is one of the first to come to the new farm, providing a few extra tools he had laying around to help you get started. He's ecstatic to have a new face around town!

Nikolai? Nobody seems to know his last name, but he seems to be well liked in town. Nikolai was once a traveling merchant, never staying in one place for too long. He made his way by selling rare and unique wares. Since the earthquake the alpha has settled in town on a more permanent basis. Nik now runs a beautifully crafted bathhouse so those hard workers of the village can rest their weary bones, while still having a handful of new and rare items to sell each week. There seems to be more to the alpha that meets the eye. 

Kate Laswell. Kate is the town physician. A no nonsense beta who is chronically scraping townsfolk off the ground when they fail to take care of themselves properly. She's lovely, but so very tired. When Kate isn't at the clinic she assists her wife with running the inn. 

Farah is a fisherman extraordinaire, and has been a godsend with getting supplies in and out of the village while the bridges were out. While Farah doesn't brag, tales of her adventures are written on the scars on her toned tanned arms. While goods and services aren't her day to day now, Farah still heads out on her boat each day with Alex in tow.

Alex is responsible for a bulk of the collections at the museum, and when he's not there, he helps Farah out on the docks. In his downtime Alex writes stories down on the well worn pages of his journal. Harrowing tales of a strong and fearless pirate who saves the day again and again. So what if the long braided heroin resembles someone familiar?

(Not sure how deep in the weeds i'll go with this, but I'm having fun, I would love to make it a little series)

[soath]

The thing about Bells Hells is that asking their opinion on anything is like setting up a political survey at a rave under a bridge or in some sort of especially niche genre specific goth club or backstage at an off-off Broadway conceptual show; you’re going to get really interesting answers! They are not going to be representative of the general population in the slightest. There is a faction of people who think we need to solve this by introducing one Designated Average Relationship With The Universe Dave to the polling sample, ruining their beautiful natural diversity of guys-who-could-be-in-the-musical-RENT. To which the wise man says: “Never!” This is the little freaks with half baked philosophies and unresolved personal issues party. More pressingly, it has been noted that Bells Hells doesn’t seem to realize that their relationship with power writ large is bafflingly different from the average Exandrian. This is an problem, but it’s one that could be in-character, one more extension of an admirable commitment to trauma-informed alarming theological opinions.

[altcvnningham]

picture frame {request}

adler x f!reader (pregnant!reader)

request: for anon, who asked for pregnant!reader x adler who does nottt wanna get on reader's bad side!!

tags: fluff, pregnant!reader, reader is ex-cia, domestic, so domestic it's practically an au, adler is ooc but let him be happy, future girldad!adler, author is feeling christmassy so christmas mention wc: 1.3k

a/n: i'm not usually a fan of pregnancy fics or fluff without underlying angst but i enjoyed this one, it was so comforting to write!! i hope i did this justice!! adler is a bit ooc but i don't wanna succumb poor reader to deadbeat dadler, so this is like post-bo6. also had to bind my hands to make sure i didn’t veer off writing an honorary uncle woods segment….. that man already has a whole david mason to worry about never mind miss adler junior. anyway enjoy !!

There isn’t a thing Adler fears in this world, but if he had to choose whose bad side he’d rather avoid getting on, it’s yours.

And that being said, it’s a fear coupled with excitement that verges on delirium- the ex clandestine special officer had never thought himself fit for married life, given his failed attempt in the past, and had all but given up on the faraway white picket-fence dream long ago.

There existed an Adler once, Russ, soft-faced and scarless, who’d dedicated such a dream to a snippet he’d spied once in a magazine; some schlocky, oversaturated Home Style issue perched upon a grocery store counter, featuring a staged photograph of an all-American nuclear family on some Christmas morning by the tree. Husband kicked back in a recliner with a cigar and eggnog, pregnant-bellied wife tinkering with baubles on the tree, two bright-eyed girls at her feet in matching pyjamas tearing into red-ribboned gifts. So sweet and saccharine a picture it verged on tooth-rotting.

A man of twenty or so at the time, already welded to the army fatigues he donned like a second skin, he’d rolled his eyes, checked out his pack of cigarettes, and went on his way. But he’d never forgotten the picture, or the bittersweet sadness lodged in his chest beside it. Perhaps partly knowing that such a life could never be his, fictitious and just out of reach. Were he a different man- a better man- maybe he’d wake up one morning to a pretty wife sleeping beside him, kids giggling down the hall, his hands soft and bloodless. Were he a better man, maybe he’d deserve such a thing.

And Adler is not a better man. Certainly no more than he was the day he’d seen that picture, and even then he doesn’t reckon he was wholly good. So God knows what he’d done to deserve this.

“No, no, a little to the left,” you say as you gesture with a rolled up interior design magazine, lips pursed in a sigh. A hand caressing your belly, crumpling your agitated, paint-flecked face, you’d been working on the nursery for hours.

Adler won’t admit how his aged back strains when he holds the picture frame up to the wall, nor can he hide the amused smile that starts to unfold when he catches wind of your ire. Balancing effortlessly atop the stepladder, he throws you a look back over his shoulder.

“Any more to the left and it’ll be goin’ out the window. You’re asking me to move mountains here.”

“And I’ll be asking you to move out if you don’t get that picture straight,” you tease, half a smile. “I’m not telling our daughter that she can’t know what gramma and pop looked like ‘cause you couldn’t hang a picture frame.”

Adler raises a hand in a surrender as he blithely succumbs to your demands, moving the frame leftward and fastening it exactly as you’d asked. He knows not to provoke your anger, a little pricklier now in your last few months of pregnancy, and though it’s all in good fun he could almost swear he’d near lose his head last week when he’d made a joke about your odd cravings, your empty coffee cup primed and ready to be launched at him.

But he’s as loving as any man with a blackened heart like him could possibly be, doting on you to a degree of obsession that was nigh unimaginable; both of you a world removed from your respective lives within the CIA, a far cry from having to dig out the odd bullet from one another and patch each other up in the midst of gunfights, sheltering for cover behind old splintered buildings. Domestic life wasn’t exactly a warzone, but it had been hard to settle into a vague sense of normalcy, almost like adopting new identities entirely. A prospect he’d joked about, now he was no longer officially CIA, changing your names to Mr. and Mrs. John Doe. Yeah, you’d groused, good luck hiding anywhere with that scar.

Still, it was fair game when he chose to get on your bad side. You’d once laughed, pelting him with your oven mitt after he’d thought it wise to joke about your cooking- your fault for getting caught in the crossfire.

“There,” he groans as he descends from the stepladder, shuffling back next to you so he could glimpse the frame from your perspective. “How’s that please you?”

It was a lovely thing. Not just the picture frame now hanging perfectly above the undecorated cot, but everything. This, your quaint home in the suburbs, away from the noise, playing your little game of house. Between the odd intel request from Woods, who’d jokingly insist he’d trade your help deciphering transcripts for him hosting the next Fourth of July cookout in your backyard, it was, relatively, a normal life. One that in truth you never thought you’d live to see.

It’s the little things, you suppose. Like the picture frame above the cot, in the little pale blue and pink nursery, half-complete.

You caress an idle hand over your tummy, feeling Russell’s own waver on the small of your back. Admiring your shared handiwork, you tilt your head with a smile.

“Mm. Perfect. Looks nice with the walls- wouldn’t have picked it for a girl but I think the duck-egg blue is just right.”

If Adler had resisted the urge to snidely tease just to get under your skin, he’d sorely lost. And if hours of sifting mindlessly through paint swatches had taught him anything, it’s that you took the choice of particular hues deathly seriously. He smirks.

“Oh? I thought it was periwinkle.”

There’s a deafening beat of silence before Adler flings his arms up in defence, warding off your attacks as you smack at him with the rolled up magazine; no amount of time out of the CIA had made your right hook any weaker, and you’re relentless with your barrage of attacks, met only by sounds of feigned agony and raspy laughter.

He doesn’t much remember what that picture in that old Home Style magazine had looked like, as his life slowly assumed the shape of you. He had everything he needed right here, and wanted for very little else. Wasn’t exactly choice to be excommunicated from the CIA after the mess in Panama, but he’s happy working for himself, for Marshall, teaming back up with Woods for the occasional op, only now he has an excuse to actually watch his own six, knowing who and what he had waiting at home for him. Home. A foreign word. It almost frightens him, to think how simple and easy a life he’s got between all the blood and the mess, how undeserving he feels of even a lick of it.

But a month or so later, come Christmas morning, he gets struck with the strangest frisson of déjà vu. Over a glass of eggnog, helping you fix the tinsel that had fallen from the tree again, he looks at you and he sees it. Feels it, some nameless void in him suddenly filled. A blink in the back of his mind and he sees that faded magazine article, only it’s you, rosy-cheeked and smiling as you are now, tinsel tumbling from your hands as you rush wobbling to his side. You let out a frantic gasp, seizing his wrist, and pull his hand to press against your belly, insisting that you feel a kick. And all he can do is laugh, teasing with a dry smile.

“Look at that. Just as strong n’ mean as her mama.”

[verkomy]

bells hells meeting the mighty nein is the best thing that ever happened to me

[retconnovember]

“I’m falling apart”

From @funnygirlthatbelle’s fic a spark https://archiveofourown.org/works/55881034 (this fic has me in a chokehold)

[licorishh]

Saw a one-off on Tumblr that just casually brought up the AU idea of Bell being Makarov's biological parent from their life in Russia pre-CIA and I would just like to say I am one thousand-percent behind this theory but not as an AU like actually as a headcanon because the timeline would match up perfectly and it would just be insanely cool

[satans-knitwear]

She is like a little teddy bear. One that tries to steal snacks directly from my mouth as I'm attempting to eat them.

[commsroom]

it is a little funny to me that zach valenti is a vegetarian and seems generally health conscious, considering that doug eiffel is... not that. the opposite of that, even. eiffel would say french fries should count as a vegetable. eiffel thinks ham & pineapple pizza covers all necessary food groups. eiffel has a meat & carbs & grease based diet, sustained by a quick metabolism and an iron stomach. and he is like aggressively american; eiffel is the guy they make novelty fast food items for. there is nothing in this world he wants more than a burger that is also a pizza. doritos® locos tacos and baja blast. that radioactive looking flamin' hot cheetos mac and cheese? he would eat that. no question. that guy loves koolaid flavors that don't even resemble artificial fruit.

[inthecityofgoodabode]

April 2024: Wednesday In The Garden

My queen gathering roses & fern fronds for a flower arrangement:

Our three & a half foot tall cilantro. Seeds will be saved:

Wednesday night dinner - steak with chimichurri, salad, peas, sweet potato & grilled bell pepper:

[kookinglikeachef]

like the beyonce one can u do who is in your friend group for a sabrina carpenter?

kookinglikeachef: I kept it short n’ sweet just for you!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Belle (KISS OF LIFE)

She eat, sleep, and breathe Sabrina Annlynn. Front row just for her. Have to make sure she’s still breathing every five minutes.

Sakura and Yunjin (LE SSERAFIM)

Look, this group just has taste. If I keep getting requests like this, they’ll probably be mentioned a lot. You know how down bad Saki is for her Sa-sister. Knees are turned to jelly during the towel reveal.

Bang Chan and Felix (Stray Kids)

I feel like they’re midkey SC stans. More so Felix. His favorite songs are probably Good Graces and Espresso. As for Chan, he’s being dragged there by me and Felix but turns out he knew a fair amount of her songs. Most of them making him sweat and blush like an idiot. Not my fault if it starts getting steamy in the crowd. Come right on me, I mean camaraderie. No, seriously Christopher, make me Juno- WHO SAID THAT!?!!!

[euesworld]

"Cause girl, your fire starts at the lips and ends with me at your feet.. here I am kneeling."

You are way too hot not to take a taste, and I want a taste of your eternity - eUë

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Life's Sweet Bells

A COD Farm Sim AU with omegaverse splashed in!

Not a long fic (I hope) but just a series of little stories surrounding Paloma, a soft and sweet omega who's recently earned a farm from a long lost inheritance. Paloma begins cultivating her new life, embracing the rewards and challenges of her new town and it's eccentric strangers.

Poly 141 x F!OC

Link for all the "Villagers"

Introductions

Paloma nearly ignored the old ratty letter she'd received in the post. A hand written thing, outlining her inheritance from a long lost relative. 

An inheritance she stands before now. 

Alejandro, the mayor, a tall alpha with a bright smile, had been incredibly apologetic about the state of the old farm. Rudy, his partner, had explained that the old place had been vacant for some time, and it had only been recently that they discovered the old man’s nearest next of kin.  

Paloma, however,  was hearing none of it, gazing at the lonely plot of land with stars in her eyes.

The place was beautiful, a humble little cottage nestled in the middle of a quiet rolling forest. Its overgrown, vines crawling up the cobbled stone chimney, weeds taking over the empty field, but she can hear a brook nearby, and the little plot had not only a barn, but a greenhouse to boot. It was all worn, in disarray from by the elements, but it's hers. ‘Paloma Hadley’ now legally scrawled on the deed in swirling black ink.  

Alejandro and Rudy had been kind enough to assist her with the small chest of her belongings, and with a promise to check in tomorrow to finalize the last of the paperwork they had left her to her own devices. 

The next day passes quickly, with Paloma up to her elbows in dust and grime, scrubbing years of dirt off of the fine hardwood floors. She’d nearly slipped twice, trucking around her little cottage with bright red wellies to spare her socks. Had gone to war with what appeared to be a small village of spiders living in her bathroom, dutifully capturing and tossing them outside in a cup, and nearly fell down her front steps trying to drag the old heavy rugs outside to wash and beat on an old drying line. But compared to how it was before? She would catch spiders every day. Happily.

She didn't have much to her name when she left, just a small bedroom’s worth of items that she’d kept while she’d lived with her parents. She’d had no problem with leaving, and it wasn’t like her old job was paying her enough to have a place of her own anyway. Despite the increasing list of fix-ups and chores, Paloma had already started to cultivate a sense of pride over her new little home. 

A home, with lovely rugs and quaint wood furniture.

She’s still cleaning, bopping around her kitchen while a pop song blares on her meager little radio when she just barely catches the knock on her door. She fumbles with the volume, dusting off her hands on her already dingey apron and scuttles toward the door, swinging it open to find perhaps the most handsome man she has ever seen in all her years of life. 

He’s almost too pretty, dark curls cropped neatly, with a roguish little scar across his cheek. He’s dressed in a simple button up, short sleeves rolled a few times to highlight the toned curves of his arms, well worn belt with an assortment of tools slung heavily around his hips. 

“Evenin’ miss” he greets with a nod of his head, pearly white fangs on full display as he smiles down at her, warm and bright. Pretty and an alpha. He must have been working hard today, having sweated through his blockers if the way his scent rolls through her is any indication. It’s warm and floral, tonka and citrus, with a hint of spice that would have her tail wagging if she had one. It wasn’t every day that she got a whiff of alpha, really anyone for that matter.  Most designations kept their scent muted or gone entirely, especially in the city where she’d grown up. It was considered polite work culture to keep one’s scent from intervening from day to day activities, which was more a way for designations to avoid bias in the hiring pool. Only bonded pairs stopped blocking their scent.

Her eyes flick to his neck for a quick confirmation, only to see it covered conveniently (and charmingly) with a soft blue bandana. A new mystery to solve.

Paloma realizes she must have been staring a little too long when he clears his throat softly, making her flinch. Way to be cool Paloma. She has a hard time getting her words out, smiling dumbly as the alpha on her porch chuckles awkwardly. Extending a hand.

“Kyle Garrick, y’can call me Gaz.”

She reaches out without thinking, her fingers brushing against his wrist in her haste to wrap her soft hand around his. If Gaz notices the small social faux pa he doesn’t say anything, simply gives her soft a squeeze before letting go politely. 

“Sorry! Wasn’t expecting anyone else today.” she attempts, tucking the loose strands of her hair behind her ears nervously, introducing herself in return as an afterthought.

“‘Course not, didn't mean to intrude. It’s not often we see a new face around here, let alone one moving in. Wanted to bring by a little house warming gift, figured you’d have your hands full with all this.” he gestures. 

Gaz presents her with actual tools, a decent sized shovel, hoe, and axe, he even tosses in a small toolbox, and a handful of varying seed packets. 

He rubs the back of his neck, “Not sure if you wanted to actually keep up with the old farm, but if you did, these'll give you a start.”

She looks it all over with absolute glee.

“No! This is perfect. Thank you Gaz, really. I don't know what this place used to look like, but I want to pick up where it was left off.” she says proudly, hands on her hips. 

She'd already hoarded up all sorts of books and manuals on farming and caretaking. Determined to be as self sufficient as she could. 

It was a pipe dream maybe, thinking she could make a living selling produce and cute jams, and she tells him so, shoulders falling ever so slightly.

“It's really not. Been missing someone like you around here since the old man died. The general store and village market's been suffering for it. I think you're just the person we needed around here Paloma.” 

His words are so genuine it nearly makes her misty. 

“I've got my work cut out for me, but I intend to do my very best” she promises, meeting his eyes with a bold resolve.

“I've got no doubt you will.” he chuckles. “Just so you know, I run the carpentry shop just up the road. If you need a hand, come see me, yeah?” 

“Will do!” she waves, watching her first kind stranger take his leave.

–

Paloma takes it easier the following days.

Well 

A little easier.

Rudy had explained the old shipping bin on her property, and with her cottage finally, less spidery and grim she had resolved to at least do a little foraging in the bountiful area Alejandro had been sure to remind her of. The move in general had taken what little savings she'd had. And if selling off a few things would garner her some pocket change then she had to do all she could.

It was at least a start.

She was pretty pleased with her bounty around the mid afternoon, having already filled her basket full of varying mushrooms and wild vegetables. At least the ones she thought were edible. She hopes Rudy at least looks it over before taking it.

She's plopped on her rear, fingers stained blue as she works over a healthy looking berry bush (popping a few of the prettiest ones in her mouth in between) when a new voice startles her.

“New to town and already riflin’’ through other folk's gardens I see!”

The loud scottish lilt has her nearly jumping out of her skin. She whirls, eyes falling to yet another handsome stranger. 

He's another big boy, white tank top smudged with dirt and loose sprigs of hay, his hair is cropped into a short mohawk, a rabbit's foot charm dangling from a loose chain around his neck. A farriers apron hugs his thick thighs, a fine layer of sweat glistening against his sun kissed skin. 

Good heavens, they build them different in the country.

She sputters, trying to haul herself up “I didn't mean to- I didn't know?? I'm-”

“Easy lass, just yankin’ your chain” he laughs, extending a hand to help her up, his grip is firm, and he must overestimate how much strength he needs to pull her soft body up out of the dirt because he hauls her right into his chest. 

Her brain reels, getting a nose full of sweet alpha musk, a fun mix of buttery shortbread and soft rose that seems odd clinging to such a macho looking alpha.

His freehand catches her, warm broad palm against the small of her back as she flails again, trying to get distance between them, nearly tripping over her own boots when he settles her again, a warm palm on her shoulder to hold her in place. 

She's grateful she grabbed a healthy supply of her own blockers before leaving, at least she wouldn't be perfuming all over the place like a fool. She was embarrassed enough that her encounter with Gaz the day before had her snuffling at his scent on her hand all evening like a lonely puppy.

“Easy there” he says good naturedly, giving her a pat not unlike a horse before pulling his hand away. “Was wonderin’ when you'd come by and see me.” he beamed, pretty blue eyes bright with mischief.

She rights herself, dusting the dirt from her knees. “Is this your property? I didn't mean to intrude, I didn't realize someone was so close…” 

She admittedly hadn’t strayed too far from home just yet, she wanted to get at least a little settled before meandering into town. She feels a little bad for not even bothering to see her new neighbor.

He introduces himself as John Mactavish, Soap for short. Explains that he minds the livestock just up the way, ducks and chickens and cows and horses, and that she was indeed on his property. 

“Not that I mind of course. Alejandro told me we had someone new, didn't know you'd be such a bonnie thing, s'good to finally have a new face ‘round here.” he teases as they walk together. Soap had insisted he walk her home, had even snagged her basket of berries, holding them hostage, claiming she had too much to carry already with her backpack already sagging heavily against her shoulders. 

Soap was a talker, rambling animatedly, introducing her to new names of fellow townsfolk she’d yet to meet, too many names lost on her as they made they’re way down the worn dirt path to her home. Talking with him was as easy as breathing, and while Gaz had been friendly she didn’t feel quite the same nervousness with Mactavish, and soon enough her own chattery energy came out to match his own. It wasn’t long before the pair were laughing and giggling their way under the afternoon sun, swapping stories of past awkward moments and old jobs.

Just from the way he talked, she could tell Soap was well liked, referring to most everyone in town as his friend. It was incredibly sweet how he only had good things to say. And if what Soap was saying was true, Paloma would have no issue getting to know everyone in town, well, mostly, everyone. 

“Ach, Ghost, you’ll like him, he’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s good people, my best pal.” he says warmly, setting her basket down beside her front door. He starts to continue before he pauses, taken aback. She guesses in their chattering Soap hadn’t noticed their arrival until she’d let him right to her door.

“My days” he sighs, baby blues surveying her little farm, he doesn’t say anything as he steps off her porch, beelining it for her old barn, making her half run just to keep with his longer strides. He takes it upon himself to survey the building, making a couple rounds around the foundation before wrenching the old doors open with a grunt of effort. She follows him inside, mimicking him by putting her own hands on her hips as they both look around. Paloma isn’t quite sure what she’s looking for, but Soap does, and if anything she’s here for support. 

“Ya know, I’ve never been out here before, the old man kept to himself,  ya got yourself a good little setup here, hen. Little bit of patching here and hammering there and this’ll do just fine!”

“You think so? I would love to have a few animals, nothing too serious, but the company would be nice.”

“I know so, and tell you what.” he turns to her, a mischief Paloma suspects is permanent in his eyes, “ you come ‘round my place, help me tend to mine, and I’ll teach you a few things, even throw in a few coins for your trouble. That way we both have some company, aye?” 

“You’d really do that?”

“‘Course! Just a little while, once you get this place all neat and tidy you’ll have your hands plenty full, and then you’ll be askin’ ole Soap for help.” he teases, clapping her on the shoulder once more, broad palm dangerously close to the tender gland at the juncture of her shoulder. 

Paloma nods her head at the charismatic alpha, cheeks burning at the innocent contact. She wasn’t going to turn a prime opportunity down, and hands on contact would be much better experience than fumbling around with a book. It’s not like she was imposing, he offered after all, like good neighbors do, and she’d admittedly grown fond of the playful scot after their little walk together. 

“Excellent, I’ll get out of your hair for now bonnie girl, but do me a favor would ye?” he asks seriously, looking her dead in the eye. “Stay out of trouble, your lucky I was alright with you pilferin’ my berries like that but-” 

A loud snort tears from her at his teasing, one she attempts to cover half heartedly as more snorts follow, making Soap laugh too, she punches him in the side playfully, trying to catch her breath as Soap’s giggles make her laugh even more.

“And now you’re assaulting me! I’ll have you know I wont tolerate nefarious behavior like this, I’ll let it slide this time girlie, but it won’t happen again.” he proclaims, waggling his finger at her, only making her laugh harder. They part ways in giggles, Soap waving pleasantly as he trots back off into the distance, his sweet rose scent wafting around her in a pleasant cloud. 

Paloma’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and for once the heavy weight of carrying on feels like nothing at all. 

[quietwingsinthesky]

unfortunately i unironically enjoy stupid my little pony horror stories why am i like this

[imviiie]

sweet. . . .

like or reblog if you save.

[manicpixie-tieflingboyfriend]

Surprise! :D I figured it out!

THEY'RE THE COUPLE OF ALL TIME!!!!!!

[killyjae]

Idk how many times I've said this but as a big masc intersex nb myself, Matrix gives off nb vibes so much