#chamomile and whiskey

[ravenxbones]

just for fun, i decided to make warriorsonas for my existing ocs, just to differentiate them even more from my interpretations of the killjoys that they developed from. here’s amaryllisfoot (alex) and darkwater (damien), they’re riverclan warriors! hoping to post jamie and diego’s designs eventually as well, i already have warrior names picked out for them :)

[scealaiscoite]

‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐 food prompts 𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅

¹⁾ tart, fresh cherries

²⁾ milky tea

³⁾ a can of redbull

⁴⁾ cold pepperoni pizza

⁵⁾ orange segments

⁶⁾ chamomile tea

⁷⁾ burnt toast

⁸⁾ steaming masala chai

⁹⁾ bitter dark chocolate

¹⁰⁾ water-heavy pears

¹¹⁾ salty cinema popcorn

¹²⁾ smooth whiskey

¹³⁾ fluffy cinnamon rolls

¹⁴⁾ rich cuban coffee

¹⁵⁾ streetside pani puri

¹⁶⁾ fresh-baked cookies

¹⁷⁾ pomegranate seeds

¹⁸⁾ sour jellies

¹⁹⁾ homemade soup dumplings

²⁰⁾ hotel room service french fries

²¹⁾ sugared donuts

²²⁾ mexican coca-cola

²³⁾ strawberry milkshake

²⁴⁾ fudgey brownies

²⁵⁾ spearmint gum

²⁶⁾ happy hour cocktails

²⁷⁾ fairground candyfloss

²⁸⁾ salmon sashimi

²⁹⁾ airplane peanuts

³⁰⁾ takeout fried rice

³¹⁾ pistachio gelato

³²⁾ a packed lunch

³³⁾ bruised bananas

³⁴⁾ cheap instant ramen

³⁶⁾ agua de jamaica

³⁷⁾ petrol station chocolate bars

³⁸⁾ soft mangos

³⁹⁾ chicken noodle soup

⁴⁰⁾ convenience store onigiri

⁴¹⁾ lemonade from a neighbourhood kids’ stand

⁴²⁾ chilaquiles

⁴³⁾ a steaming bowl of breakfast congee

⁴⁴⁾ too-sweet instant coffee

⁴⁵⁾ a sunday roast with all the trimmings

⁴⁶⁾ high-end restaurant steak frites

⁴⁷⁾ mango sticky rice

⁴⁸⁾ salsa verde and tortilla chips

⁴⁹⁾ stale bottled water

⁵⁰⁾ rotten strawberries

⁵¹⁾ old-fashioned caramels

⁵²⁾ honey and lemon lozenges

⁵³⁾ garlic bread

⁵⁴⁾ mango loco monster

⁵⁵⁾ clumsily-made spaghetti

⁵⁶⁾ rotisserie chicken

⁵⁷⁾ madras curry

⁵⁸⁾ abuela’s caldo de res

⁵⁹⁾ dirty martini

⁶⁰⁾ tinned sardines

⁶¹⁾ arayes

⁶²⁾ the last slice of birthday cake

⁶³⁾ ripe nectarines

⁶⁴⁾ caviar bump

⁶⁵⁾ iced latte

⁶⁶⁾ sugar cookies

⁶⁷⁾ mulled wine

⁶⁸⁾ baklava

⁶⁹⁾ chocolate poptarts

⁷⁰⁾ warm champangne

⁷¹⁾ sticky toffee pudding

⁷²⁾ blueberry pancakes

⁷³⁾ birria tacos

⁷⁴⁾ hospital pudding cups

⁷⁵⁾ lobster rolls

⁷⁶⁾ fresh honeycomb

⁷⁷⁾ campfire coffee

⁷⁸⁾ sweet tea

⁷⁹⁾ hot honey

⁸⁰⁾ vanilla protein powder

⁸¹⁾ bulgogi beef

⁸²⁾ warm focaccia

⁸³⁾ chilli con carne

⁸⁴⁾ peach cobbler

⁸⁵⁾ cold watermelon slices

⁸⁶⁾ sweet stewed apple

⁸⁷⁾ coloured marshmallows

⁸⁸⁾ vendor stand hotdogs

⁸⁹⁾ dragonfruit redbull

⁹⁰⁾ blood oranges

⁹¹⁾ vanilla coke

⁹²⁾ blue raspberry slushie

⁹³⁾ nicotine gum

⁹⁴⁾ raspberry jam

⁹⁵⁾ pear cider

⁹⁶⁾ pineapple rings

⁹⁷⁾ chicken wings

⁹⁸⁾ salted butter

⁹⁹⁾ coconut meat

¹⁰⁰⁾ wild blackberries

[alrightieaphroditie]

screwed | j.m series masterlist | next part!

pairing *:·ﾟjoel miller x female!reader wc *:·ﾟ2.2k an *:·ﾟ.... yeah i don't know where this came from. i've literally been itching to write for joel but the man makes me so nervous. not too sure how much i like this but i think this will be the beginning of a lil series so hopefully i can make it work! pleaase let me know if this is bad lmao i really appreciate any feedback! i hope you enjoy!

synopsis *:·ﾟyou can't stand the sight of joel miller sitting alone - again - at the tipsy bison, so you finally decide to introduce yourself to him.

you knew who joel miller was before you even officially met the man. 

granted, anyone in jackson could’ve made that same claim. it wasn’t like you were special or anything, really. but when tommy came into the community, it only took him a few weeks to get settled in. it took about the same time for him to casually be able to mention his brother into almost every conversation. 

helping some of the guys out with making plans for a new building? joel miller would’ve been great at that. trying out a batch of the new whiskey they had made? joel miller would’ve been all over that. brushing the horses and maintaining the stalls? tommy actually wasn’t sure how joel would feel about this one, but he made sure that everyone knew his brother would do it if asked, no hesitation.

so, when you heard that joel miller had shown up near jackson, and was going to be entering the community, you felt like you had a decent understanding of the man. however, you weren’t anticipating joel miller to look… like that. even now, you still remember being huddled outside near the entrance of the town, bundled up in an oversized jacket. as the gates opened and you first caught a glance at the older, taller man walking through, you felt your cheeks burn bright red. 

your first thought about joel miller? he was unrightfully handsome. 

it wasn’t until after joel and the girl he came in with, who you later learned was named ellie, got settled that the rumors started to spread. you weren’t entirely sure where the source came from, but soon enough the town of jackson was talking about joel as much as his own brother had, but this time it was accompanied by whispering, stolen glances, and an air of hesitancy. 

you were never one to gossip, but you couldn’t help yourself strain to listen to those whispers floating around. you couldn’t understand how someone who was as highly praised by tommy, a man so well trusted within jackson, could be so ostracized in the community. you heard mumbles of him being a hunter, previously. of him murdering innocent people for his own selfish ways. of how some people didn't feel as safe in the community now with this big, bad man roaming around. 

the thing was, you had gotten quite close to ellie in the weeks that they had been there. she appeared at your house one day, standing near the curb as she watched you and some of the towns children haphazardly building a snowman. you caught her eye, waved her over, and that was that. she was your new best friend. she showed up on your doorstep almost every day after, and the two of you would talk about almost anything. especially about joel. she was very much like tommy in the sense that ellie could relate almost anything back to that man, and she meant it as praise. she really did look up to him. 

during your talks, while you sat at your small dining table with cups of tea (which, ellie had decided she quite liked chamomile tea, so you made sure you stocked up for her) you learned more about the man that joel was, and with every conversation, you found yourself wanting to simply know more about joel. ellie often referred to him as a 'scary motherfucker' but the fondness that laced her voice betrayed her. it was because of ellie that you were part of the minority of the town that was not afraid of joel miller. 

and it was then that you knew you needed to do something. it wasn’t really the whispers, the rumors, that bothered you. there wasn’t much to do in jackson, truthfully, so when people needed the entertainment, they tended to make it themselves. a few weeks ago, you were the center of it, the people claiming you were glowing from pregnancy from a hookup that quite honestly never even happened. all you could do was laugh. the people would believe whatever they wanted to, even if you were adamantly insisting otherwise. 

the thing that got you, though, was how joel seemed to have almost expected being treated poorly, being totally unwelcomed in this small town. how he seemed to be fine quietly eating dinner alone almost every night when ellie wasn’t around or tommy had patrol duty, then sitting alone, again, at the bar with a shot of whiskey. the way he seemed so comfortable being alone, and yet you couldn’t help but notice the yearning in his eyes as they shifted around. the weariness. as if he was used to everyone in his life leaving him, alone, and he was the only one left to pick up the pieces. 

so, one evening, almost a month and a half later, when you walked into the tipsy bison for dinner and saw joel sitting in the back - his usual spot, his back to the wall, facing the door - alone, again, you paused in the doorway. his gaze was focused on the lone glass of whiskey in front of him, his fingers trailing the rim slightly. the image sent a shock of pain in your heart for some reason, and before you even realized it, your footsteps were carrying you to him. 

his gaze shot up as you drew near, and you watched as his eyebrow quirked up slightly. you cleared your throat softly, suddenly feeling more nervous than you probably should've, your fingers fiddling with the edge of your sweatshirt the dead giveaway of your anxiety. 

"hi," you managed to get out as you stepped up the edge of the table. his brown eyes were staring intently into yours, and you swear you saw the corner of his mouth quirk up. "i know you've been here a little while now and i just realized i never got around to properly introducing myself. i'm-"

"i know who you are. the kid never shuts up about you." he interrupted, raising the glass to his lips, and taking a sip of his drink. you trained your eyes to stay on his, focusing really hard to not let your gaze go to his lips as he licked them. 

you felt your cheeks flush almost immediately, and a small smile found its way to your lips. all this time that you felt like you had known who joel was, and for some reason, you weren't prepared to hear the slight southern accent in his voice. you thought it was cute. "well, i hope that's a good thing," you motioned to the chair on the other side of the table. "may i?" 

his face gave away nothing, and it could have just been you, but his eyes widened slightly at the question. he hesitated for a split second before nodding his head to the chair, shifting back in his own seat. "sure, have at it. s'long as you’re not afraid to be mingling with the town outcast." he gave you a grin at the self-deprecating joke, and you didn't want to but you couldn't help but laugh. 

"oh, i promise you aren't the town outcast. i think that title goes to jimmy. i haven't seen him around town in weeks, but i know he's home because he keeps shovelin' his driveway." you teased, smiling even more to yourself as joel huffed out a laugh before drinking again. "besides, ellie doesn't think you're all that bad. that must count for something, yeah?" 

his eyes went soft at the mention of the girl, which caused your heart to melt. he shook his head while examining the glass again, his finger wiping off a bit of condensation on the side. "that girl is about as fearless as it gets. not sure you really wanna be followin' in her footsteps." 

"i'll take my chances, then." you traced a crack in the wood on the table, suddenly feeling a little awkward. you weren't the best with people, having been quite the introvert before the outbreak. good to know somethings never really changed. "how are you liking it in jackson so far?" 

"s'alright. i never thought something like this could be possible again," he trailed off, draining the rest of his drink in one go. he leaned back in his chair, arms folded against his chest. you couldn't help but notice how his long sleeve shirt stretched across his broad arms. "'m happy that tommy was able to find a community like this." he confesses, which makes you smile. the one thing you had learned from both tommy and ellie was how loyal joel was, especially to his family. it was a trait you heavily admired, and something you genuinely didn't see nowadays. it was every man for himself out here. well, not in jackson, but that's besides the point. 

"it is pretty great," you agreed. you didn't know where you would be without the community. you had somehow luckily stumbled upon them from the woods as you escaped from a group of hunters that had kept you and your best friend captive. maria had seen you and instantly took you in, giving you space to heal while becoming comfortable again. you didn't share this joel, although you felt the strange urge to, to maybe help joel see that the town wasn't all that bad and that there was good in it. 

"so, i admit i had a secret agenda coming over here. i wanted to ask you something." you tucked your hair behind your ears, trying to muster up the courage to ask. you weren't scared of joel miller, but god he was really intimidating. you weren't sure what you would do if he turned you down.

"oh?" he looked intrigued, that eyebrow of his quirking up slightly again. his expression was soft, almost inviting. "well ask away, sugar."

sugar. your blood rushed in your ears at the endearment. 

"well, i wanted to invite you and ellie over for dinner one night. i already mentioned it to her earlier, but i figured i should probably ask you directly as well." you confessed with a small laugh. ellie swore she would mention it to joel, but then the next second she was asking you about one of the books you had on the counter, and you really can't be sure that she remembered your invitation. 

joel was silent for a moment, his eyes studying you in a way that made your knee bounce. the silence made your thoughts go into overdrive. maybe you misread joel earlier when you believed him to be lonely. maybe he really did just enjoy his own company and maybe he didn't want some strange girl inviting him over and interrupting his time. and maybe - 

"i'd like that, yeah." he responded quietly, tilting his head slightly in your direction as a subtle nod. it could've just been the whiskey, but you could've sworn his eyes shined in the light. you stared at him for a moment. your brain and thoughts catching up to the confirmation joel gave you. 

"oh, perfect!" you resisted the urge to clap your hands in excitement. and you were excited, but you didn't want joel to know just how much lest you come off as some crazed woman. with the way he looked he probably dealt with that all the time, right? 

"okay, well, ellie already knows where my house is so that covers that. if you both don't have duties tomorrow, we could do it then? or if you wanted, we could schedule it for next week or somethin'?" you were well aware that you were rambling, but you couldn't help it. joel didn't seem to mind it, though, as he gazed at you while you talked with your hands. 

"tomorrow's fine with us, 'm pretty sure." he adjusted himself in his chair, the old wood creaking slightly under his weight. “i appreciate the gesture, too. nice to know i haven’t scared everyone off.” you think he’s teasing with you, his grin almost invisible but you can see it. tommy never said his brother had a good sense of humor, but you were starting to wonder if there was a different side of joel that he was letting you see. you felt like you could run 10 laps around the border of the town with the way your heart was racing after his grin. 

“of course! truthfully it’s more for me than it is for you; i got a little sad seeing you in here alone almost every night.” you started to laugh, but then your words caught up to your ears and you realize you inadvertently told joel you’ve been watching him. embarrassed, cheeks flushed with heat, you stood up quickly, tucking your chair back under the table. 

“well, it was nice to finally meet you, mr. miller. i’ll see y’all tomorrow night!” the words rushed out between your lips as you slowly backed away from the table, giving joel a small wave before turning around. he probably thought you were acting like a fool, but you knew you needed to get out of the building before you said something worse. 

as you passed the tables towards the exit, you could’ve sworn that you heard a deep chuckle coming from the corner of the room, coming from the table that you just vacated. 

oh boy, you thought. you were officially screwed when it came to joel miller.

[vomittedsoap]

How characters in AMC The Terror would drink their coffee (/morning drink)

John Franklin: Black, your grandpa's instant Kirkland brand coffee. Either that or 7/11 big gulp that smells like motor oil and piss. Owns a "world's best boss" mug but uses it as a pen cup.

Francis Crozier: black (with whiskey). Jopson makes it for him in one of those plaid Thermos or green old-fashioned Stanley.

James Fitzjames: he takes Starbucks and Dutch Bros very seriously. Big fan of a chai latte as well. Anything with cinnamon sprinkled on it. (insert Larry David Latte joke from Crozier)

Blanky: Same as Crozier but with some sugar and cream

Jopson: owns a French Press that he uses to make Crozier's coffee, drinks his with just a LITTLE sugar but a lot of milk. Also likes espresso sometimes. Drank from a simple white cup or whatever's available.

Hodgson: uses Jopson's French Press (and lost the lid one time). Adds CoffeeMate flavored creamer, pumpkin spice is his fave but hazelenut is fine. Really enjoys stupid mugs so most of the mugs on the Terror belong to him. His favorite is the Rainforest Cafe frog one.

Little: a double-quad-shot of espresso in a Solo Cup means nothing to him. But alas he drinks it anyways. Such is life. Sometimes will have a coffee in Hodgson's mug with a picture of a kitten and puppy playing on it.

Irving: insane amounts of sugar and milk, but will never admit it. One time a shipmate accidentally mistook it for his and instantly spat it out. Irving claimed he didn't know whose it was. The mug changes but says his favorite is the one with John3:16 on it (but actually he covets the Rainforest Cafe frog mug).

Goodsir: actually he's an herbal tea guy. Likes chamomile or things with rose/lavender. Brews them in a mug Hodgson gave him that had some dumb science pun on it, a gift for which he's unnecessarily thankful.

Stanley: black. No fun allowed.

Tozer: regular coffee with french vanilla creamer. Normal.

Hickey: Panera lemonade that kills you. Also takes sips from Crozier, Tozer, or Irving's drinks when they're not looking. ("if you have a milkshake... and I have a milkshake... and I have a straw; see? Watch it. My straw reaches across the room... and starts to drink your milkshake: I... drink... your... milkshake!")

Gibson: doesn't like coffee, but is a big fan of coffee-flavored things.

Collins: espresso with lead and an extra side of lead (with whipped cream)

Silna: Haznelnut latte with which to take her ibuprofin. Lord knows she needs it. Drinks from a baby-blue Stanley Goodsir gave her.

[ivystoryweaver]

With You Part 2

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Summary: Your fiancé Marc experiences his first hangover in 2 years. Can he face you in the light of day, and admit to you and Steven what he knows about another alter?

Pairings: Marc Spector x reader, Steven Grant x reader, Jake Lockley x reader. Gender neutral reader, though there is one optional fiancé(e) and muñeca(o). (Reader’s choice). No use of Y/N. Reader is engaged to Marc and Steven.

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings/notables: Angst, comfort, hangover (ish), cursing, cuddles in bed, assumptions, longing, feeling inadequate, brief reference to past trauma, self-worth probs (I mean, it’s Marc). Let me know if I missed a warning. Banter? If mild sarcasm bothers anyone... Probably inaccurate DID, based on the show.

Dividers by saradika

Steven fell asleep right away - for that, you were grateful. But sleep did not come easily for you. As Steven nestled into the crook of your neck, arm slung across your torso, you could only hope he would sleep off that three-quarters bottle of whiskey.

Pushing your fingers through his soft curls, you pressed your lips to his temple, waiting until his breathing slowed and steadied before confessing into the stillness of the night.

“Marc...I know you can’t hear me right now...” Your lip trembled as you pulled his body closer, gently twisting his soft strands around your fingers. “But we love you. We’re with you. Nothing will change that.”

You supposed it could be considered odd to be speaking to Marc even though it was Steven who fell asleep tangled up in you. And perhaps it was also presumptuous to speak on Steven’s behalf, to Marc. But you knew it was true.

The next morning, you woke up first, after a few, merciful hours of sleep. You hoped not to disturb the man beside you, carefully slipping away from his grasp. After a quick trip to the restroom to freshen up, you clambered to the kitchen, cursing yourself for not grabbing your fluffy slippers or a thick pair of Steven’s fuzzy socks. Your damn, drafty flat was going to give you all pneumonia, you were certain of it. 

To that end, you started preparing both coffee and tea, unsure of which handsome man would be enduring a hangover this morning. For Steven, you oscillated between a red and a golden tea - hibiscus or chamomile. Marc may have been born and raised in Chicago, but Steven Grant did not mess around about tea. 

Finally deciding on the hibiscus, you grabbed the air tight canister of tea leaves - there would be no dreadful teabags (as your darling Brit quoted Dame Julie Andrews) in your flat. 

Hopefully Marc would drink the tea, but, just in case, you put on the very impressively American coffee maker before finding the bread for some toast.

After everything was hot and ready to go, you crept back into the bedroom, figuring it all might go cold before your sleepy headed fiancé roused. No matter. You just wanted to be prepared.

You didn’t have to wait long because someone stirred just as you pulled on the fluffiest pair of socks with little goldfish (a Hanukkah present to Steven last year) and threw Marc’s favorite tan hoodie over your white t-shirt. Your legs were still bare and you decided that at least your grumpy, hungover boys might have a silly sight to wake up to, if nothing else.

Easing down beside your love, you gently raked your hand through his bedhead, probably your favorite way to (innocently) touch them. 

With a groan, your fiancé squinted, throwing a dramatic arm over his eyes, as if a thousand suns were burning them. (It was still dark in the bedroom). 

“Oh, god,” Marc uttered, his arm flopping back on the mattress. 

You adored Steven, but you were thrilled it was Marc. You needed to speak to him, or at least take care of him. 

“Good morning,” you softly greeted, reaching to massage his temples before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Mm-mm, bad morning,” he groaned, rolling over and burying his face in your stomach. His hands somehow conveniently slid right inside his hoodie and underneath your t-shirt, which sent you toppling over, giggling elatedly. 

Marc was a very pouty but adorable puppy sometimes. Grumpiness just worked on him. You liked to joke with him that he would make the cutest grumpy old grandpa someday. Thankfully, he was more interested in using your tummy as a pillow at the moment than the heaping shame and anguish from last night. 

“Thirsty,” he murmured, nuzzling against you. Damn, it was too bad he didn’t feel good, because he was unintentionally turning you on. 

“I got you, baby,” you whispered, prying yourself from his grasp to get his breakfast.

“No, don’t go,” he protested, locking his arms around you, his hot breath falling on the exposed skin of your abdomen, where your shirt had bunched up. “You’re m’pillow.” His words came out all muffled and so, so cute. 

God, he was distracting. “Are you calling me fluffy?” You teased. “I was just going to get you some water. And maybe some aspirin?”

“Wanna sleep,” came his mumbled reply. “You left me.”

“To make you some coffee, you baby,” you playfully shot back, finally climbing out of his grasp.

A few minutes later, you returned with a tray filled with tea, coffee, toast, water and painkillers, only to find Marc planted face first in the pillows. How he managed to look so damn good after downing a bottle of whiskey and sleeping five hours, you would never know. As his muscular back expanded with a deep breath, you almost tossed the tray full of remedies to the side and climbed on top of him.

Later, maybe. 

After a little coaxing, he finally sat up, taking the prepared tray onto his lap. Simply seeing what you’d done to ease his pain this morning reminded him of his shameful display last night. His eyes flickered over to yours, dropping down to the gesture of care and love.

“You...” He exhaled shakily, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

There was no need to argue over breakfast. You gently smiled in return, rubbing his forearm comfortingly. “I made you coffee, but...maybe you’ll try the tea? Steven says the antioxidants--”

“I was an asshole.” His jaw clenched, his gaze now fixed on your hand. The tenderness of your touch burned him with shame.

“You were?” your eyebrow shot up questioningly. “Hm...”

Marc was used to this from you. Just like you had taken a swig of his whiskey last night, your nonchalant reply should not have surprised him in the least. 

You were a champion of the real. He had never met a soul like you, and that’s probably why he was insanely in love with you.

All that mattered to you was the reality of any given situation - what was right in front of you. You were so damn hard to fight with because ... well, you didn’t fight. And for someone as self-punishing as Marc, who spent his youth hearing what a miserable failure of a human being he was, it took him a long time to understand that your steady gentility and raw honesty were not dismissive of his trauma. No, you met it, and him, head on, accepting him and loving him exactly how he was.

You had never asked him to change, never expected him to be anyone other than exactly who he was. After years of self-sabotage, it was unimaginable to him to not have to live up to someone’s standard. He never had successfully lived up to anything, in his mind. 

But you were different. The first time you “fought” had blown him away. He snapped at you, feeling inadequate over one thing or another and you simply said, “No.” He thought you were being dismissive of him, maybe even mocking him, but you were as earnest as ever, telling him, “You think that now. That’s okay. I simply disagree.” Then you kissed your thumb and pressed it to the grumpy crease between his downturned eyebrows. “I love you exactly how you are, Marc.” 

It was the first time you’d said you loved him and he was just...speechless. You then kissed the corner of his mouth and carried on with the evening. That’s why it was so easy to tell you about Steven. 

“I don’t remember you being an asshole,” you shrugged, bringing his mind back to the present. “But I do remember you being upset. And crying.” Scooting a little closer, you twisted the cap off the bottle of painkillers. “You wanna tell me about that?”

He watched your hands, pouring a couple pain pills into your palm, picking up the glass of cool water to make him an offering. His eyes met yours and he knew you were there to ease his pain in every possible way. 

Still, it was so hard for him. And anything too hard typically led to disassociation. 

To gain an extra moment, he took the medicine, gulping down the entire glass of water. 

“Now, what sounds best?” You sweetly asked, nodding to the tray, your gentle smile completely melting him.

“I-I don’t think Steven and I are alone...in the body,” he gulped, his eyes wide and worried. 

Sitting up straighter, you slowly nodded, reaching to take the tray from his lap and set it safely on the night table, giving him time to say more, if he would.

That’s all he said.

Shit, you suddenly worried you didn’t know how to ask questions without sounding offensive, despite the library’s worth of research you had done on DID. But you weren’t an investigative journalist, you were this man’s fiancé(e). So you would start with him. 

“And that scares you, Marc? Upsets you?” 

He glared at you. “Obviously.” Then shook his head. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You swallowed, trying to proceed carefully. It was so, so good that he was opening up to you. Instead of playing a guessing game, you decided to be your normal, candid self. 

“Do you know who it is?”

He sort of did. Another man.

“Does he have a name?” 

Lockley. He was pretty sure.

“Have I met him?”

His dark eyes locked onto yours. “I don’t know. Have you?”

Well that certainly explained one reason he was so terrified. 

“No, I don’t think so. Does Steven know?”

Marc reluctantly confessed how hard he’d tried to hide it from Steven. 

“I knew this was all too good to be true,” he brokenly whispered, eyes downcast once more. “You, me, Steven, free...happy.”

“We are those things,” you agreed, keeping him focused on the here, now - the real. “A change doesn’t mean we weren’t those things, all this time.”

“You don’t understand...” Marc rubbed his eyes in frustration (with himself) and tried to ignore his growing headache. Maybe he really should eat and drink something. He tried to tell you about Khonshu. He was going to tell you everything, and Steven too. But it was too much at once, so you found yourself with Steven once more. 

Steven was very impressed with your choice of “hangover tea” and made sure the body got the nourishment, rest and shower it so needed. He missed his morning classes at uni, but did manage to make it to his shift at the university library, which ran from mid-afternoon to early evening. 

Since Steven seemed to determined to not miss a shift over a hangover, you decided to go ahead and work your shift at the hospital, as planned. The two of you would meet back at your flat for some supper and then, hopefully at least one of you could get some more information out of Marc.

Things didn’t go as planned. 

You returned home, assuming your fiancé would be there, just the same as the previous, fateful, sobriety-breaking night, but no one was home.

You looked around the flat, texted, called. Started dinner. Texted.

Took a shower, called. Called the university library - no Steven. 

Shit. 

Dinner was cold, you had texted the boys a novel, likely filled up their mailbox with voicemails. It was a desperate look - you were aware, but the worst thing you could imagine, aside from the actual worst thing that could happen to a person, was that maybe Marc was on a bender somewhere? It wasn’t exactly his drinking style, even back in the day, but...

Your feet were going to wear holes in the goldfish socks from all the pacing. It was past bedtime, midnight, 1am...should you call the police?

You were now truly, deep-in-your-bones terrified. In four years, neither Steven or Marc had ever just disappeared like this, not without telling you. Sometimes they could be a little radio silent when Khonshu was involved, but...

Maybe they weren’t them. Maybe it was the other. The new alter. Well, new to your boys anyway. You didn’t know anything about him, but one of the first things you wanted to know was - did he possess the ability to reply to a damn text message?

You got your answer twenty minutes later when you heard the slightest thump come from your bedroom. Hoping you had imagined the sound in your intense worry, you engaged in stupid-horror-movie-behavior and went to check out the sound, in the dark.

The moonlit profile of your fiancé sent a dozen feelings through your mind and heart at once, but as usual, you went with the borderline comical response first.

“Did you just come in through the window?”

Dark eyes snapped over to you as...Marc? pulled a flat cap off his head, loosening his curls. Tossing it to the side, he reached for the fingers of dark leather gloves, pulling them loose one at a time, but saying nothing.

You gulped. “Marc?”

Once the fingers of his glove were loosened, he discarded it and reached to work on the other hand, his body language holding none of Marc’s sorrowful tension, nor Steven’s anxious hunching. He moved with ease, dropping his second glove before pulling off his leather jacket. One you’d never seen, actually. You could tell that even in the dark.

Then he eased toward you confidently, like a panther, reaching to pull loose the tie around his neck. Okay, not Marc.

Once the dark tie was free of his neck, he toyed with it in his hands, wrapping it around one fist as his head cocked to the side. 

You forgot to breathe for a second. 

He finally let the thin fabric drift down to the floor and reached for the buttons of his white shirt.

Okay, enough. “You’re not Marc,” you uttered desperately, taking one step back. “Are you?” 

He matched your step backward with a step forward. Then he shook his head once. 

Oh. What had Marc said this morning? “L-Lockley? Is that right?”

He froze.

You decided, in that fleeting moment, to deal with the reality in front of you. You drew a steadying breath, releasing the fear and worry that had plagued you all night. Clearly, he was right in front of you, so he was at least safe. And despite the very distracting sort of striptease thing he just did, he admitted he was another.

So you weren’t going to be afraid anymore and give in to bullshit stereotypes. 

You stepped forward. “Do you know who I am? I live here, with you.”

He nodded. 

He was frustrating, this one. Sighing, you rubbed your tired eyes. “Have we met before, Lockley?”

The slightest smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth. 

“Jake.” 

He inched closer. 

“But you can call me anything you want.”

Well, damn. Huffing out a laugh, you quickly regained your footing. “Smooth. Never heard that one before...Lockley.”

His smirk eased into the slightest smile, but his eyes remained dark, boring into yours before tracing down the shape of your body. 

“I can see why they’re so taken with you, muñeca(o).” 

You always knew the right thing to say with Marc and Steven like 100%, all the time, but damn if this window-crawling, stripteasing man with the velvety chocolate voice didn’t have you stumped. 

Showing you a bit of pity, he extended his hand, offering a proper introduction. “Jake Lockley.”

But once you extended your own hand, he gently grasped your fingers, bending over slightly to lay a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Pleasure,” you shot back, taking his hand and kissing it right back. 

He chuckled lowly as you retreated. 

“Listen, Jake,” you said his first name pointedly, “I’m glad you’re okay. I was really worried tonight. Do you happen to know where my fiancé’s phone is?”

Eyeing you carefully, he reached down to grab his leather jacket, producing Marc and Steven’s phone from the pocket. Handing it over as a peace offering, you sighed, a little relieved it wasn’t lost, only to realize it was powered off. 

“Do you always turn off their phone?” You challenged, attempting to turn it on when you realized...

“It’s dead,” he explained, seeming the slightest bit unsure for the first time this evening. “I was going to...I thought you would be asleep.”

You frowned, confused.

“When I got back,” he clarified, his accent clearly American, although from a different region than Marc’s, it seemed. “I thought you would be asleep, like usual, and when you woke up, one of them would be with you.”

“Like usual?” You gasped. “You come in through the window while I’m asleep...like usual?”

Shit, it kind of sounded creepy said aloud like that. Jake knew meeting you would be a disaster. He really should have paid attention to whether you were really sleeping before he ninja’d his way inside. 

“Look, cariño, don’t worry about it,” he deflected, returning to the task of unbuttoning his shirt. “I’ll be gone as soon as I fall asleep.”

“No,” you protested, moving close to him - as close as you dared. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just met you.”

His confident, dark gaze softened, and he almost dared to hope...

“Look,” you tried again, “I just want to know why we haven’t met before. And why Marc is so upset. And why is he drinking again--”

“Marc was drinking? Shit,” he uttered, pacing away from you. Jake had always successfully evaded his alters, and made a point to do so as he continued their life in the service of Khonshu. 

He should have seen this coming. Most of the scum he took care of in the dark of night didn’t even make him break a sweat, with or without the healing armor of an ancient god. But as word of a powerful nighttime avenger spread in the underworld of London, threats arose equal to the threat Jake posed. 

Just a few days ago, some asshole with powers of his own got the better of him, knocking him out cold. Jake had assumed that Khonshu had intervened but now he wondered...

If Marc woke up in the Moon Knight suit, he would absolutely freak the hell out. Which...now that he thought about it, he had no memory of getting home that night. 

This was just perfect. Jake could live without Marc and Steven knowing about him. He’d lived that way all this time, but you were something else. He hadn’t wanted to meet you like this. He had screwed up, and now you were only worried about Marc. He was worried too, honestly.

Now you would never want to know him.

[unspeakable-imagination]

Cigar smoke and Sleepless nights |Part four

Switched gifs cause this one is wider and prettier

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x reader

Reposts and likes are appreciated

Cw: Cigars and smoke, drinking, reader has ptsd. Logan has ptsd, canon-typical violence, references to abuse

Part one two three

For once, you were up 'late,' and by late, it meant daytime. You couldn't sleep, to anxious since your zippo ran out of lighter fluid and you couldn't by more. You sat in the window sill, staring at the fresh snow that blanketed the grass and trees.

Dispite the fox, you felt cold. Maybe it was the lack of your nic fix, maybe it was the absence of talking to any real people. The sun had long risen, and people had been awake for an hour, maybe two. Realistically, you could go out there- talk to someone. Go buy lighter fluid. You had the money from Charles. It was to cold to go outside, you decided. Slipping from the sill, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. Just the same old you.

A lump rose up your throat the closer you got to the door, and it felt like it was burning. To anxious to try to leave your room. What if- What if, so many what's began to fly through your head, but then, they all went silent.

'[Name], it's okay.' A voice. It wasn't Charles? You heard a knock and then opened the door. A lean redhead with bright eyes was looking right at you. "[Name]," she said. "I'm Jean. Charles told me to check on you, and it seemed like perfect timing. He could hear your thoughts from down stairs." You were still confused. It was ger voice you heard in tour head.

"Are you like Charles?" It was the first words that slipped passed your lips. She shook her head,

"No, but I am similar. He can hear just about every one constantly. I'm not like that." She placed her hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I will be, I think I just need some tea to ground me." You wished it was bourbon, or whiskey, or maybe any other liquor. Jean snorted and backed away, having heard what you thought. Of course you were unaware. For a moment, you worried she was laughing at you, but she was able to quell thag worry in just a moment.

"I'd best be on my way. Be safe, [Name]. You'll be okay. Just keep that head up." You nodded and watched as she walked away before you stepped out your own door. Stepping down the stairs, minding the flood of people of all mutant sorts, trying your hardest to ignore the beating of your heart from your chest.

You made it to the kitchen, and with no students there, you were finally able to breath, really breath. Grabbing a mug off the rack, you quickly filled it to the brim with water and put it in the microwave to heat. Whole that happened you shoveled through the cabinets till tou found a perfect tea packet. Chamomile and sweet berry.

After tossing the packet on the counter, you spent your time looking for the honey. That was fairly easy. It was in a large squeeze bottle, shaped like a bear. When the microwave beeped, you were quick to pull the steaming ceramic mug out, taking as little time possible do tou wouldn't burn your hand.

Putting the packet in and rigually tying the string to the handle, you squeezed the honey on top thag way it would dissolve and mix with the pinkish tea flowing from the bag.

Sitting there, you patiently waited. And by patiently, you were actually darting around the kitchen, desperate to find something to do. You looked in the sink, in the fridge, freezer, cabinets and pantry, in the fridge again. Anything to keep your mind off of the driping anxiety.

Like a timer went off, you squeezed the rest of the bag around you fingers getting any of the concentrated tea out of the cup and threw the garbage in the trash. Using your finger to briefly stir it, then licked it off you finger.

You took a deep gulp, one that took almost a third of the glass, trying to use it to calm your nerves. What you didn't realize was that the reason you were growing calmer was the scent of tabacco flowing from behind you. It was hard to smell metal with all of the worry, confusing it for the smell of your own blood. That was until someone cleared their throat.

"That's my coffee mug," Logan said behind you. Jumping from you skin, you nearly spilled the tea over your sweatshirt. "Oh my gods," you sighed. "You scared the fuck out of me. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was your mug, I'll wash it right now." You didn't even give him a moment to speak. You grabbed another mug from the rack and poured your tea into it,

"Oh," he said, to slow to stop you. His brows knitted together as he watched you quickly wash then scrub his mug, rather diligently. You flipped it upside down into the drying rack. "Hey," he said. He wasn't loud enough to break through your trance as he watcher you dip around, grabbing the coffee pot.

"Seriously I am-"

"Hey," he shouted. You stilled, the coffee pot dropping from your hand, the hot drink spilling over the linoleum tiles.

"Oh my god," you said, beginning to panic. Logan was quicker than you this time putting some hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist, stopping you from nearling pulling you your hair.

"Jean," he yelled for the redhead, his jaw twisting over his shoulder. "Jean!" Then, you relaxed, your vision going spotty.

When you woke up, your steaming cup of tea was on your bedside table. Charles sat next to you, his hands folded neatly on his lap. His expression was cross, funn of concern and worry.

"I always try nor to pry into my students head without permission, however you had such a poor reaction to an accident I had to try to help," he said gently. A sour taste filled your mouth, as if bile was rise up your throat.

"What did you see?" He looked at you and you couldn't already tell it was everything. You sat up, glancing to the mug and taking a sip.

"I can take all thoes memories away, [Name]. Usually, I wouldn't offer it, but I feel like it could help you. Wothout living in fear." You raised your hand.

"No, I can't. They make me who I am. They're so important- they show me what not to do." Charles only nodded.

"I know. Don't be afraid to seek help."

[akhret]

Djehuty

Offerings

Water, (red) wine, whiskey, bourbon, milk, beer, coffee, orange juice.

Meat, bread, honey, fruits, vegetables, nuts, cinnamon, chocolate, caramel, butterscotch, cakes and other sweets. Herbs, as well, whether you’re cooking with them or for others reasons.

Frankincense and myrrh, lavender, eucalyptus, chamomile, and citrus smells are great for incense, candles, essential oils, or perfume.

Writing utensils (pens and quills), paper, journals, a calendar. He’ll even take wax seals, too. Notes from school or work.

Any medication you’re on. Science or medical equipment.

Imagery of him- including statues, drawings, printed pictures. Ibis, baboon or moon imagery.

As well as maat and the ankh

Devotional Acts

Meditation and yoga to practice mindfulness and to help yourself feel more balanced. Shadow work can also be a great devotional act or going to therapy. Positive affirmations can even be a good devotional act to help you feel more confident.

Learn and study. As a god of knowledge, he loves to see people thrive. He wants you to be eager to learn about anything. Write about it afterwards, take notes. You can even read- even if it’s “brain junk,” there’s still wisdom to be found within the pages. Start learning a new language if you wish or even make one up! Learn pieces of wisdom or look at sebayts.

Experiment! He’s a god of science, so SAFELY practice some science experiments (cooking is a science, too.) Experiment with different learning styles to find what best suits you! Experiment with magic- even if it’s like learning a new spell or manifestation.

Creative acts like cooking, writing, drawing, or even find a new hobby!. Just bring something to life.

Signs

Ibises or ibis imagery- this can include imagery appearing on your Etsy randomly, or on your Pinterest, or other forms of social media; along with baboon imagery. You could also see this with the shed tree, as it was a scared symbol to Djehuty.

Being drawn to the moon. You may see an increase in moon imagery as well. You may have feelings of wanting to sit outside and look at the moon.

You may feel a call to want to learn or craft. You could feel the urge to randomly pick up a new language one day or to start writing.

You may see that justice is coming to you. He crafted and reinforced the laws of maat, so you could even feel a sense of justice.

[worth-this-and-more]

do think sel is has drinks coffee

oh he definitely drinks coffee. black coffee. 100% sure. it will be a splitting replica of his wardrobe, because homeboy likes everything black lmaoo.

since the topic came i think nick would be an energy drink lover, don't ask me why i sense those vibes from him.

bree and alice definitely share the same taste in drinks, either iced lattes or cappuchinos.

and william is ofc a tea guy, chamomile tea could be his fav.

valec was seen drinking apple juice and aether vials, so i could safely assume that he is into fruit juices, as opposed to what i initially thought (i thought he's a whiskey/beer guy lool).

these are the ones i could think of?? additions and opinions are appreciated!!

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

I’ve requested a few times as anon and decided to do a request like this. Recently I’ve been listening to “Too Sweet” by Hozier and all I can see is Eddie saying this when Reader doesn’t the smallest things to help out, whether it’s bringing him a glass of whiskey or a cup of coffee ☺️ @randomreader1999

💞☕

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me - Too Sweet - Hozier

"You're too sweet for me" Eddie sighs as he downs the coffee that you made for him. Your smile is tender and full of love every time you bring it to him.

You're always doing this, doing the smallest things to help out. Whether it was cooking a meal for Eddie and making extra for Uncle Wayne, bringing Eddie his coffee or on a very rare occasion Whiskey.

When he falls into bed at three after practicing songs on the guitar for Corroded Coffin or planning campaigns, you always wake up and help soothe him to sleep, whether that's by reading to him or soft kisses and lovemaking.

You were far too sweet for him but fuck he never wants to let you go.

"I adore you Eddie, I like doing these things for you, to show that I care" you reply and he pulls you into a hug, holds you tight and gently kisses your forehead.

💌❤️

He's had a shit day at work and all he wants to do is see you, he called you half an hour ago to say he would be heading home. Clients were being assholes, he was left to fix up a behemoth of a truck on his own and his head feels like it's going to explode.

When he heads into the trailer, he can smell your delicious cooking and there's a hint of lavender and chamomile in the air.

You come out of the bathroom smiling, gently kiss him and wrap your arms around him, giving him a big hug. His worries and the tension he's felt all day begins to melt away.

"I ran a bath for you babe, it always helps me when I have a shitty day, I also dropped off at the store and got some meds and supplies for your favourite dinner". Eddie's heart skips a beat. You did all of this for him?

"You're amazing, you're too sweet for me princess" you cuddle into him and the words he's been dying to say for a while now blurt out.

"I love you so much" you gasp and look up at him stunned but then a slow, pleased smile forms on your face.

"I love you too Eddie" Yeah, you were too sweet for him but he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life.

[ltsokaylove]

What You Would Smell In Your Amortentia

✨Marauders Edition✨

James Potter (Prongs)

Mint, cigarette smoke, cinnamon cologne

Sirius Black (Padfoot)

Cigarette smoke (obviously😭🙏), fire whiskey, leather

Remus Lupin (Moony)

Parchment, old books, coffee, chocolate

Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail)

Jelly beans, musky cologne, chamomile tea

[littlemisspascal]

New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

@milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

New Works Added ✨

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

@burntheedges Joel Hearts / Frankie Is This a Date?

@beskarandblasters Joel As Long As I Have You + The Warmth of Your Gaze, The Lingering of Your Touch / Frankie Watch the World From the Sidelines

@wardenparker @absurdthirst Joel For Valentine’s Day / Dieter “I'm not getting you coffee, your order is ridiculous".

@flightlessangelwings Joel Could I Have This Kiss Forever? / Din What Was Unspoken, And What We Finally Said

@eupheme Joel Are You Mine?

@missredherring Joel A Flower in February

@whatsnewalycat Joel Ruthless

@firstofficerwiggles Din A Beskar Valentine

@lowlights Din Recalibration

@dindjarindiaries Din Your Needs, My Needs

@saradika Din Beneath the Mask

@haylzcyon Din Fell in Love With the Fire

@undercoverpena Frankie Wet n’ Wild / Din Cold, Lips Blue

@absurdthirst @storiesofthefandomlovers Frankie The Cupid Shuffle

@toomanystoriessolittletime Frankie Fucked Royalty

@tieronecrush Frankie BNBG (brand new baby girl)

@musings-of-a-rose Clint A New Life

@ezrasbirdie Dieter Bright Lights

@tightjeansjavi Dieter Tea Party + Chamomile

@psychedelic-ink Dieter + Javi G Amour Amour Amour / Joel A Happy Man / Marcus P The Louvre

@secretelephanttattoo Marcus P Confetti

@movievillainess721 Whiskey Watermelon Moonshine

@morallyinept Marcus M Heyday Hero – A Valentine’s Story  / Dieter A Cup of Love

@sirowsky Marcus M An Unexpected Valentine

@something-tofightfor SNL Wing Pit Second and Goal 

[klaus-littlestwolf]

I have put together a list of all of the Smells that I think each designation would possess, mostly good, natural smells but some bad as well that come from negative feelings like Fear and Anxiety

Alphas Good Smells:

Pine Trees

Fireplace

Aftershave

Whiskey

Leather

Old Spice

Burning Wood

Brown Sugar

Apple Pie

Peppermint

Coconut

Toffee

New Car Smell

BBQ

Tequila

Matches

Fresh Money

Dark Chocolate

Bacon

Freshly Brewed Coffee

Maple Syrup

Sandalwood

Gasoline

Patchouli

Seawater

Ginger

Hay

Mahogany

Gunpowder

Pears

Cedar Wood

Amber

Pesto

Sautéed Onions

Funnel Cake

Cigarettes

Blackberry

Fresh Cut Grass

Ink

Snap Fire Crackers

Bad Alpha Smells:

Wet Dog

Rancid Meat

Blue Cheese

Blood

Sweaty Feet

Tar

Betas Good Smells:

Lilies

Bamboo

Champagne

Apricots

Pumpkin

Shortbread

Almonds

Tulips

Pina Colada

Mochi

Raspberry

Macaroons

Sharpies

Baby Powder

Butterscotch

Mangos

Sautéed Garlic

Key Lime Pie

Dove Soap

Peanut Butter

Coal

Black Tea

Wet Forest

Marigolds

Fresh Basil

Lilacs

Vanilla

Soda Flavored Lip Smackers

Bad Beta Smells:

Rotting Fish

Oil

Burnt Popcorn

Tuna

Dog Food

Vinegar

Omega Good Smells:

Chocolate Covered Strawberries

Chamomile Tea

Jasmine

Spearmint

Roses

Old Books

Crème Brûlée

Honeysuckle

Eucalyptus

Marijuana

Citrus

Caramel

Cherry Blossom

Cinnamon Bun

Lavender

Whipped Cream

Apples

Dryer Sheets

Fresh Bread

Aloe Vera

Sea Breeze

Peaches

Magnolia Trees

Thunderstorms

Honeycomb

Cherries

S’mores

Cookies Fresh from the Oven

Blanket Fresh out of the Dryer

Sky After it Rains

Smell of Baskin Robins

Bad Omega Smells:

Burnt Rubber

Rotten Eggs

Bleach

Nail Polish Remover

[fictionkinfessions]

For the ask game: I'm a Sevika fictive. My relationship with drugs is, if you know the show I'm sure you can assume, intimate and complicated. I was fairly partial to whiskey and cigars, and will still drink and smoke (no cigars or tobacco unfortunately, since the system doesnt want that risk, I'm restricted to chamomile cigarettes). My relationship with shimmer, though, was much more all consuming.

Part of it was what it did for me. I get a little too fatigued in a fight, in bed, in any situation I need it and I'm untouchable. I'm the scariest person in the room. It doesnt matter how badly I'm hurt, how tired I am, how far I need to go. I keep going and I get the job done. In a way it felt like an extension of silco. No matter what shape I was in it was always there, telling me I'm not done yet, I need to keep going, I have a job to do. It gave me the power and strength I needed. It took what I lost and gave me something better, something to keep me from losing again. There are a lot of days I dont know if I would have gotten through without it.

And then it was gone, and so was he. I couldnt just be untouchable any time I felt like I couldnt keep going anymore. I could have taken it manually, but that felt. I dont know, it wasnt the same. It wouldnt have been helpful for the fast paced situations I needed it most in anyway. And it felt like he was gone from it. Recreationally it felt like a mockery. And god knows I wasnt going to that little fucking rat for a new arm. So I, for the most part, dropped it after he was gone. It was hard, but it didnt feel like a choice.

Part of my relationship with it was what it did for other people. I joined the cause because my dad was one of the miners that ended up dying from lung damage from the grey. I watched how sick he got, I watched our friends, family, neighbors disappear, I watched what it did to zaun. And I watched piltover do nothing but make things worse. I wanted change. I wanted my people safe. I wanted no one else to lose like I lost. And when vander showed he didn't have the guts to do what needed to be done, I backed silco. Because, maybe his choices werent always the best, maybe he was brutal at times. But he would have burned piltover to the ground if it meant freeing zaun, if it meant a change.

And that change looked like shimmer. And I watched what that did to my people too. Some of it was bad. Some of it was very, very bad and no amount of alcohol could drown that out for me. Make me forget what I helped do. But it also changed lives. I watched disabled folks return to lives they thought they'd never get back. I watched people who were on deaths door keep going for years. I watched what it did for silco, what it did for jinx. And I do not regret it. Because shimmer, and all drugs for that matter, cannot and should not be moralized, bad or good. Because it's not a moral thing. It is a tool, and just like any other tool it can be used to fix things, and it can be used to tear them apart, and I'm dissatisfied in how much the show focused on the harm and ignored the good it could have done, it did do.

So, in all, its complicated. I think I did some horrific things, but I would always choose that over inaction. I would never take back the good that it did.

And I would take my arm back in a heartbeat.

2

[dragonskxn]

Draconic Harvest Festival — The Menu!

You can't have a fall festival without good eating!Anna's made a full menu for party goers.

Muses are encouraged to bring their own dishes as well for everyone to enjoy! You're visiting a 500+ year old dragon lady with grandma hobbies; you're definitely gonna leave with a stuffed belly AND leftovers to take home.

Vegan options are available in place of the meat dishes!

Appetizers/Snacks

Acorn Bread Rolls

Honey Buns

Cheesy garlic bread

Grilled eggplant

Escargot

Spicy salmon bites

Dragon's eggs (artichoke stuffed with soft boiled egg)

Corn on the cob

Fried onions

Soups and Salads

Pumpkin soup (served in mini carved out pumpkin)

Potato venison stew

Carrot soup

Cabbage and leek soup

Mushroom stew

Rabbit stew

Autumn harvest salad (dandelion greens, raisins, sunflower seeds, golden tomatoes, garlic croutons, and drizzled with herb vinaigrette) 

Radish and turnip salad

Main Course

Roasted turkey legs

Spit roasted wild boar

Spiced venison ribs

Vegetable risotto

Rosemary lemon chicken

Beef (or grilled vegetable) stuffed pumpkin

Gourd casserole

Roasted rabbit haunches with peppercorn and cloves

Steak and vegetable skewers

Dessert

Caramel apples

Candied apples

Pumpkin pie

Sweet potato souffle with marshmallows 

Baked Alaska (set on fire by Anna herself)

Blackberry cobbler

Cinnamon apple pie

Blueberry cheesecake

Cotton candy 

Drinks

Kettle corn

Cranberry Buns (shaped like pigs!)

Rose tarts

Baked and Honeyed apples

Smores

(Alcohol is served in special wood tankards carved with dragon and pastoral motifs, and can be taken home as souvenirs!)

Dragon's Blood Wine (VERY strong and has quite the kick to it)

Wyvern Whiskey

Ale

Beer

Honeyed Mead

Spiced Wine

Lavender Lemonade

Chamomile Lemon Tea

Spring Water

Apple Cider

[ollypopwrites]

May Our Demons Dance [Preview]

Rating: M [eventual smut, canon-typical violence, and more!] Pairing: Cis-Fem!Rook x Lucanis [Rook is named, and physically described.] Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, found family, and self-esteem issues.

Summary: Lucanis and Spite were still stuck in chains, even after Rook broke them out. She dances around in his prison, leaving rose petals and tea leaves and fire in her wake.

Here is a little preview of the multi-chap fic I've been working on. I wanted a chance to expand on Rook's place on the team, and flesh out the slow-burn of Lucanis' romance. It follows the events of the game and is mostly canon compliant - I haven't rewritten all of the dialogue we do get but have included some perspective context and maybe some extra bits of content added into the scenes. [For context, this scene in the preview takes place the same evening as the Coffee with the Crows quest aka the shopping trip.]

Despite the Fade's calming reflection of the ocean floor in her windows, Rook spent hours tossing and turning on the settee. There was too much to plan, too many steps to consider, and nothing would make the thoughts slow down. Rook finally gave up on trying to make herself sleep through sheer willpower and made the trek to the kitchen. They had herbs, most of them for easing aches and pains, but she clung onto the hope she could mix something together. 

Everytime she had tried before and it hadn’t helped, all she had succeeded in doing so far was make awful tasting, gritty leaf water that was unsalvageable by honey or any other sweetener. But she never really knew when to quit. Even if it didn’t help her sleep, she thought that something warm and earthy for her to drink back in her room would at least help her relax. 

Varric was always telling her she needed to sleep more, so she should at least try.

As she entered she was hit by the warmth of the lit fireplace, the smell of its wood burning paired with the smooth scent of coffee in the air. Lucanis was usually not far from that trail, so it was no surprise that she found him leaning against the counter with a cup. His sleeves of his suit were rolled up to his forearms and her eyes couldn’t help but trail over the bare skin. Covered in dark hair and puckered discoloration of different scars all along them.

“Rook,” He greeted, like he had been waiting for her to walk through the door. “Can’t sleep?”

“Lucanis, we have to stop meeting like this,” she joked. “One of these days I’ll actually be able to sleep, and you won’t have to worry about me disturbing your nighttime brooding.”

He breathed a small laugh, reaching for another cup that was sitting on the counter and offering it to her. “Hopefully I can help with that.”

“And what is this?” She asked, looking down into a cup that was filled with an amber colored liquid. “Whiskey or something?”

“It’s an Antivan blend of tea,” he told her. 

“Oh, it smells amazing,” she breathed it in, the scent a little sweet but with a spice of cinnamon. “How does it taste?”

“I have no idea. I hate tea.” He sipped his coffee when she snorted a laugh at him. “Try it.”

It was hot, but the taste she got was somehow perfectly balanced. Chamomile and Valerian Root maybe, she thought but with some vanilla. And as she had smelled, a bit of cinnamon added some warmth to the flavor. She took another sip, and relished in it, such a far better taste and feeling than what she had tried to piece together before on sleepless nights.

“It’s fantastic,” she sighed. “Just what I wanted, actually.”

“I’ll keep it on the list, you need something to ease you into your rest,” he said plainly, “something to quiet the mind.”

Her mind was racing, trying to find something to say, but she settled on, “thank you.”

They had been gathering things for the team all night, but it hadn’t occurred to her he might have also gotten something just for her.

“You didn’t think I forgot about you, did you?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice, the timbre of it lowered just enough to make it rumble out of him.

Her entire body seemed to light up, flutters in her stomach, a tingling heat in her face and a quickness of breath that hit her all at once. The shopping trip for the team, the conversation about coffee and kisses, the way he had reacted to her buying him that knife on a whim – all of it had been more than enough for her to know she was in over her head. Now he was waiting for her in the kitchen with a brewed cup of tea just to help her sleep. He was as infuriatingly handsome as he was confusing. 

“I did, actually,” she started dramatically, ready to tease to deflect from whatever sensations she was feeling. “And after I bought you that lovely dagger that you’ve wanted since childhood,” she pouted, then took a sip of tea again, “but this is a damn good cup of tea so…all is forgiven.”

He smiled a little wider, eyes warm and happy, but just as quickly as the change appeared in him, he shuddered it away and looked down into his own cup. 

“You should get some sleep.”

And there was his retreat. It was like clockwork, she knew it would happen, and yet it felt like whiplash everytime.

She cleared her throat and started walking away, “enjoy your coffee.”

Thank you!

I'm hoping to get the first chapter edited and put out soon. It'll most likely only be posted on A03 but I'll be sure to link it here and add it to my master list as well.

[gilverrwrites]

For Black Mask 🖤 for the Headcanon Meme < 3

what does their breakfast look like?

what is their favorite wine / liquor?

how do they take their coffee / tea?

do they take any medications?

what does a typical day off work look for them?

On a standard day, breakfast is just a black coffee with one sugar, but if he's in the position where breafast is easy/a must (a meeting in a resturant, a day off, a special occassion) then he's partial bagels. He's not fussy what kind but he defiently prefers savoury: a plain or wholewheat, bacon egg and cheese with butter.

For wine, gotta be a nice expensive bottle of italian red, but he'd always reach for a whiskey first. Probably bourbon, but he prefers sweet flavours over nutty or woodsy.

Black americano with one sugar, preferably brown sugar. He also enjoys a (again black) cold brew in the summer. He has many boxes of chamomile tea, meant to help calm him when he's in bad mood but he never drinks them.

Yes, however I am not a professional so I couldn't get to technical here. As he has a pacemaker, he probably takes some kind of beta bloker to help reglaute his heart rhythms. Pacemakers can also cause pain/discomfort so he probably takes a lot of over the counter pain meds. and I wouldn't be suprised if he's prescribed (but not taking) something for a mood disorder. (Mood disorders are often the cause of anger issues.)

Days off are few and far bewteen, and it nobody is there to distract him, he'll prbably end up putting in at least a few hours of work. But with the best of intentions: Probably has breakfast ordered from his favourite deli and brought to him at home. After a slow start to the day he'll probably take one of his cars for a drive, not in the city, but wherever the closest scenic route is. Really feel the wind blowing over his big bald wooden head.

In the evening it can go one of two ways. He's either meeting with friends/criminal associates for poker, drinks, ladies, or something of the sort, and not going home untill the early hours of the following morning.

Or he's having a nice long hot soak in the bath with a glass of wine before retiring to bed where he'll watch mob films/documenaries.

Thank you for the ask! 🖤🖤🖤