leave grandma alone

gabby. 30s (and still on this hellsite). she/her. ♎. lil healthcare worker in the big world of new jersey just here to write some silly stories and hyperfixate on stuff.

[gingervitus]

Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm (a Davrook Modern AU)

Hi, so I committed to the bit and, after two previously shared chapters, I posted a new third one today because I can't get Silvia and Davrin having a happy ending out of my head.

After, a little brainstorming and very vague outlining, I have a general idea of where we're heading, so here I am again, like a bad habit you just can't get rid of.

There's a little smidge under the cut.

divider from here.

When his eyes break open, Davrin is all too aware that he hasn't slept enough. Sunlight pours in through the thin curtains he had been convinced to buy for the aesthetic. To this day, he can't fully understand their purpose, especially when they clearly don't do very much. He can feel his pulse pounding against the inside of his skull. That, though, he knows is not from the minimal booze he consumed the night before but might have something to do with the crick in his neck from sleeping sitting up on the couch. By the time he successfully dragged his blind date back into his house and finally settled in on the couch with a mugful of Gatorade for her–which, he notes, was met with nothing but complaints for being “yellow flavored” and sugar free–and a plate of grocery store brand mozzarella sticks that she explained were a disgrace to mozzarella cheese.

Yet when he rolls his neck to the side, he finds her fast asleep, wrapped up in the blanket that usually sits on the back of the couch. The one his mother sent him off to college with and has somehow lasted all these years. Her mouth sits slightly ajar, and a half dried string of drool graces the soft point of her chin. Makeup from the night before is smudged around her eyes, dragging ever so slightly down her cheek. Rays of light skate through the fine strands of silver hair hanging all around her face. Glitter on the still oil painting of her form. Faint and white, he notices a thin scar running over her cheek and onto the corner of her lips.

It takes all his strength not to run a finger over the length of it, wondering how she acquired what must have been such an angry wound. Tracing over her cheek bone, just below her eye. Across the constellations of freckles that litters her skin. Dipping down into the hollow of her cheek. Brushing over to her lips. Full and pink.

He thought about kissing her at the bar, and maybe he should have. Pressing his mouth up against herself. Soft and warm under the shitty bar lighting. Truthfully, it's been on his mind since he laid eyes on her. “The little one that's not Lace,” Taash had explained, having caught sight of them sitting at the bar when they walked in. "That's Silvia. She's a little bit of an asshole, but I trust Lace. She thinks you might like her.” Even if he didn't, he thought he might get to hook up with a pretty girl.

Annnnd you can catch the rest on ao3.

[lastdollintheforest]

mwah is a very important word

[broodwoof]

this is the post of RELEASING COMMUNICATION OBLIGATIONS !!!

if you have a half finished reply to me or forgot to send smth in a "timely" manner or wanted to respond to smth I @'d you in or whatever else YOU ARE FREED !!!

I'm being a little silly for funsies but I am Very Serious about this sentiment. you are always allowed to: not reply at all or reply late (days, weeks, months... years with a reminder of the original conversation, truly it is fine and I'm not kidding)

[thedascaptured]

[onecells]

YOU🫵'RE 🫵 NE->XT.!! moTHERFUCKER!!!!

GET LOVED!!!!!!!!!!

[aphel1on]

sometimes i get really overwhelmed by love for blorbo and start saying things to myself like I need to gnaw his head off

[jellyeliart]

[brainstreams]

[willgrahamscock]

any time I tell my mutual about the fic i'm 'writing' and they ask me where they can read it

[gingervitus]

Hi have some brain rot from the modern au that I've been thinking about today.

It's been snowing since yesterday morning, so I'm thinking about all the family drama that happens snowed in.

[gingervitus]

Some more things I've done while avoiding work

[peroqueconio4-deactivated202107]

x

I just like Hawke so much…

[burntblueberrywaffles]

[herpsandbirds]

GET ABSOLUTELY SHRIMPED!!!

[gingervitus]

On Ire and Wolfsbane (a Blackwall x Lavellan ficlet - 4,971 words)

well folks, she's back on her bullshit once again.

I wrote nearly 5k words of Lavellan angst, so please enjoy. (it ties in a little bit with Short-Sighted Devotion bc I do love dots that connect.

it's here on ao3 and there will be a snippet beneath the cut.

(divider from here)

Everything is too quiet. It may well be early morning. Early enough most of the world has yet to yawn itself into the turns of daily life. Birds remain cozied up in their nests. Worms lay at ease against the hard frozen earth. Flowers are curled in on themselves, mere silhouettes of the colors or splendor they will hold come midday. The halls are mostly still save for the light patter of those who have yet to retire for the night or have started their days before the kiss of light against their eyelids.

The sun hangs low over Skyhold. A chill has rolled in over the mountains, cresting with rays of light that cast through the thin fog settled over snowy peaks. The air is crisp and even, though it prickles with anticipation. With angst. With retribution longing to be given form. It claws at rails and gnaws at doorways. A lumbering thing that slips in alongside the frost that glitters in dawn's light. Such things do not ask permission to enter. They do not forewarn their host more than a rumbling through the grapevine. Like a blizzard ravaging an unsuspecting village, unless someone is there to read the clouds, one will lay dumb and blissfully unaware of the disaster on the horizon.

Viera presses her knuckles against her lips. Hair hangs limp just past her shoulders. She should bathe and give her hair a proper cleaning. Really, it needs a trim, but everything has been so chaotic since the Empress's near assassination. Conflict brewing between Nevarra and Tevinter. High Dragons haunting the hills of Emprise du Lion. Tensions in Wycome and its neighboring cities in the Free Marches after the massacre of her clan. There hasn't been time, nor has she found the will to do much with the mop at all.

Golden eyes pass over the words scratched against a neatly cut and pressed sheet of paper. So precisely folded to fit into the envelope passed to her by the Commander himself. It could not wait, he explained upon once more barging into her quarters as she attempted to enjoy a moment of solitude with her morning tea. Her initial plans entailed enjoying her tea infused with juniper berries and lemon peel, rolling over one of the three tiny hand carved wooden halla that appeared on her bedside table in the days after her family was unjustly taken from her. One for each of them. Herself. Her mother. Her brother. Some mornings, she spends the wee hours alone holding the little figurines and weeps in the only privacy she seems to have as of late.

After the fourth read, the sentences melt together. Words no longer have definitions. Phrases dissolve into senseless things. She blinks over and over again in an attempt to decipher her fourth and fifth reads of this damned letter. Her heart sits high in her throat. Teeth clench together painfully. Something about demands. About fallacies. Lies and slander parading about under the guise of valor. The list of pointed pieces swirl around her mind in an angry flurry that refuses settle into something legible.

Please deliver the aforementioned felon into into the custody of Weisshaupt with haste, so that a proper inquiry into the death of Warden Gordon Blackwall may come to a swift and thorough conclusion.

Her thumb smudges the ink at the edge of the paper. It isn't until she shifts her grip that Viera realizes her hand is shaking. The already thin cold air pouring into her quarters is scalding as it enters her lungs. Her insides feel as if they could wither or explode at any moment. Rage spits acid in her throat. Dread fills a cavity in her chest she did not know existed until this moment. She should be sorrowful, knowing that her actions have consequences as they always have. That her rash choice pardon a wanted man would come back to bite her in the end. To swallow her whole and leave her to wallow away the rest of her days.

The clearing of a throat, snaps her attention back to the room around her, now filling with the light of dawn. Her eyes flick up to find Cullen wringing his hands in front of him. The leather of his gloves creaks at his movement, and it wrenches a blossom of ire in the back of her head. He's nervous. Of course he would be. This decision is one they have butted heads on more than any other. The Commander is of the mind that justice ought to be served to those who deserve it. That a felon so willing to turn himself in should be left to reap the bitter rewards he has earned.

[fethawit]

The Venn diagram is not a circle, but it's really, really close.

[nogooddeetz]

tfw you catch yourself absolutely beaming at your crush and have to take a moment in awkward silence to recover… they make me sick!!!

[davrookweek]

Davrook week approaches...

We are only a month away, and we sincerely hope you are as excited as we are(: We (the mods) are hard at work and, well, we'd like your help!

if you'd like to see your davrook pairing (romantic or otherwise!) featured on the blog during the week, please submit your favorite screenshots* of your rook + Davrin via our ask box!

Submissions will remain open until August 1st.

*please keep in mind that by submitting your photos, you are giving the davrookweek mods permission to use those photos for graphics which will be posted to the account either before or during the event (with credit, of course).

[malachitesauce]

Dragon age but all of the games just take place at a different waffle house location