Guidelines: Answer these 12 questions in the voice and manner of your character(s) and then tag as many or as few writeblrs as you would like.
Tagged by @quiescentwriting a while back ahaha
I’m doing an OC I haven’t shared much or anything about on here, Gillian, my dorky healer boy!
1. What did you have for breakfast?
"...Porridge? Yeah, I think porridge. Wasn’t very good porridge, either.”
2. Who was the last person you crushed on?
"Hm. Well, at the last festival I went to in my village, I danced with Dawn, the younger sister of the new carpenter. Does that count?”
3. What is your favorite read?
“The Full Encyclopedia of Medical Remedies and Spells, Book Three! It was originally Mama Cassia’s book, from when she went to university in the capital, but I read it so much she formally gave it to me. I want to memorize the whole book, since it’s large and heavy and carrying it around everywhere is a bit of a pain.”
4. Do you put both socks on first, or one sock, one shoe?
“Both socks on first, I suppose. Do people really do it the other way? I never thought of that.”
5. What can you cook perfectly?
“I wouldn’t say I can cook anything perfectly, but I can say my porridge is significantly better than Bran’s!”
6. If you could choose a pet, what would it be?
"I don’t think I would keep a permanent pet. Mama Sophia would feed stray cats and let them stay in our barn, and Mama Cassia would occasionally take in any injured animal she came across and help it recover, and I think I prefer both of those options.”
7. How is your relationship with your parents?
"I don’t remember whoever my original parents were. I got separated from them or something years ago, but I love my mothers! Mama Sophia and Mama Cassia and Mameir are the best mother’s anyone could ever ask for.”
8. How do you feel about marriage?
“It’s something to do one day, I guess, but not necessary.”
9. Do you fold your clothes before bed?
“When I can, yes. It’s good practice to keep your area clean.”
10. What does your dream home look like? And where would it be?
“Probably something like the house I grew up in. It’s cozy and filled with good memories. It’s close enough to a village to be connected to people, but far enough no noises reach. It’s in a meadow and there are flowers everywhere. I love it.”
11. What’s your worst habit?
“I... sometimes can be a bit of a pushover. It’s just hard to say no and hurt someone’s expectations...”
12. What do you do for a living and how do you feel about your job?
“I did work alongside Mama Cassia as her apprentice in healing, but right now I’m travelling with Bran to the capital. Whatever happens from there, who knows.”
So, it’s been a long time since I wrote a thing but here is this. This is completely for my own self-indulgence tbh, but my bestie gave me some really positive feedback so I figured I’d share. Hope you enjoy!
Contains: Hvitserk x reader, mentions of large breasts and some of the problems that come with them, body image issues and related anxiety, shameless fluff
Also just gonna tag @honestsycrets for being so welcoming when I randomly turned up in this fandom and started talking to her! Your writing is awesome Sy and if you read this I hope you like it <3
“Hey, babe?” Hvitserk called from your room.
“Yeah?”
“This is cute. How come you never wear it?” he asked, coming into the room.
You looked up from the plans you were writing out, trying to figure out what to box up next, to see your boyfriend holding one of your old bras you hadn’t talked yourself into getting rid of yet. It was black, covered in lace that came up past the cups to mimic a lacy undershirt, and doubled spaghetti straps each adorned with a tiny black bow. It was also, much to your eternal annoyance with your body, something you’d grown out of almost a decade ago. Of course he’d found it while packing your laundry.
“It’s too small,” you replied, looking away and trying not to sound too defensive.
Hvitserk’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the piece, turning the claspe out to see the tag. “It’s a 36DDD.”
“And it’s too small,” you reiterated. Silently, you hoped he wouldn’t push it; he’d only just gotten you to agree to move in with him, you didn’t want something like this to cause a fight while he helped you pack. Your Hvitserk had found a huge sore spot and he didn’t even know it.
His silence caused you to look up again, seeing the look on his face. A cross between confusion and disbelief, and your cheeks burned. “Don’t look at me like that!”
Your snapping startled him. “Like what?”
“That. Like I’m bullshitting you.”
“Princess, I don’t…”
“Go check the ones you know I wear if you don’t believe me.” You didn’t really want him to check, but you needed him to stop looking at you that way, the look people always gave you when they thought about what busty really meant when it came your body. You turned away from him, hiding the mortified tears that had pooled in your eyes from the topic. You heard him take a step in your direction, probably concerned, and snapped, “Go on! Check! I’ll be here.”
Hvitserk shuffled back into your bedroom. He was in there at least ten minutes, probably going through your entire underwear drawer. Normally you’d find it funny but you knew there were at least three other bras in there that you had outgrown in high school that you hadn’t tossed or donated. You figured some part of your brain hoped to be able to fit into them again one day, even though genetics clearly gave you the middle finger in that area. When he came back, he found you sitting where he’d left you, head resting in your hands with your palms pressed against your eyes, and he knew you were trying not to cry in front of him.
Heart aching a bit, he sat himself next to you on the couch and snaked his long arms around you, pulling you into his lap and nuzzling into your hair. He held you like that, rubbing gently at your arms and sides for several minutes until he felt your breathing even out. Finally Hvitserk spoke, words soft against your neck. “Is this why you only let me buy you panties when I said I wanted to get you some more lingerie?”
It wasn’t a question you’d expected, but it was so entirely Hvitserk that you felt the last of your tension leave you, relaxing fully against his warmth at your back. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Nothin’ fits in most stores, and shopping online is impossible with these things.” He caught the glare you aimed at your tits and sighed. His hands moved, cupping your breasts and just feeling the weight of them. It was something he did almost every day, though this time it wasn’t overtly sexual.
“I knew they were big… Fuck, they barely fit in my hands, but… I never really thought that there might be a downside to that,” Hvitserk mumbled.
“Mm.”
He seemed to be thinking, hands beginning to knead at you gently. You let him; no one could ever deny the magic in Hvitserk’s hands, they were always able to get whatever response he was after from your body. “They are heavy,” he commented after a moment. “I know your shoulders are strong, and you slouch forward when you sit. Is the weight the reason?” Aslaug had mentioned it after the last time he’d had you over for a family dinner. “She’s such a pretty girl, Hvitserk, but you much teach her how to sit properly. She shouldn’t be slouching when she’s seen on your arm.”
“Kind of?” you answered. “The shoulders, I think, but the slouching was first. When they started showing I started wearing baggy clothes and hunching forward to hide them in class, and I guess it kind of… stuck?”
“You shouldn’t hide them,” he declared, squeezing a bit more firmly as though that would prove his argument.
You snorted. “I couldn’t if I wanted to, now, but kids are mean. Ivar was teased for his legs, yes? I was teased for having C-cups in 6th grade. I hated my boobs so much, and it just got worse through high school. Every time they’d get bigger I’d think, ‘this is it, they can’t possibly get worse,’ but then they’d grow again.”
The frustration had leaked back into your voice and Hvitserk had noticed. In an effort to calm you, he nuzzled at you again, beginning to thumb at your nipples through your clothes. “I didn’t know you felt that way, baby. I thought you liked your body?” Hvitserk had made no secret throughout your relationship that your tits were among his favorite of your body parts, and you often went out of your way to wear clothes that would tastefully accentuate them when he’d take you out.
“I do. Well, mostly. It took a long time to accept them. I used to cry every time I’d need new bras because the old ones didn’t fit anymore; that kind of associated stress doesn’t just disappear, you know?”
“Not really,” he answered honestly, “but I’m starting to get my head around it, I think. Talking about it brings the memories, and that triggers the stress?”
“Pretty much.”
“Is the stress from moving making it worse right now?” Hvitserk ventured. He’d figured out a while ago that big changes made you more prone to irritation.
“Fuck, baby, it’s like you know me.”
The sass got you a playful pinch to your nipples, earning a little shriek. “Smartass!” You giggled, trying to squirm away, but he easily maneuvered you into laying under his larger body on the couch, resting your foreheads together and kissing you sweetly. “You know I love you, right Princess?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Do you wanna be done talking about this for now?”
“Yes please.”
“Okay then.” He scooted back between you and the couch, one arm looping around your waist and the other under you so he could hold your breast in his hand again.
There’s 104 days of the revolution then armies come along just to end it
And the only problem with this situation is finding a good way to spend it
Like maybe
Building a barricade
Or fighting a guard
Or climbing up the Eiffel Tower!
Fighting for something that doesn’t exist
(HEY!)
Or giving Eponine a shower!
Shooting enemies
Creating liberty
Locating Jehan Prouvaire
(He’s over there!)
Finding a snipers gun
Making a constitution
Or killing the king of Spain
(FRANCE!)
As you can see there’s a whole lot of stuff to do before a new government can rise
(Come on Jehan!)
So fight with us even though in the end you know everybody dies!
(King Louis Philippe! The Amis are starting a rebellion!)
[notes:
Yes, I know that the Eiffel Tower wasn’t made yet. Grantaire says the ‘fighting for something that doesn’t exist’ line. A little fall of rain=a shower. ‘Over there’ happens to be in the midst of the National Guard, so say that line in a panicky tone. I don’t really get the King of Spain (France!) thing, but my friend made it up and thought it funny. Jehan is Perry because this thing started with me talking about my dream where he was a platypus. The last line is 10x more hilarious when said in a whiney teenage girl voice.]
Darcy closed the front door of her aunt and uncles house and sat down next to Simon and Clary on the steps.
Barely looking up from the game they were playing, a simultaneous hey came from the two.
Darcy took one look at the game and shook her head. “Pokémon? Really?”
Simon glared at her while Clary tried to beat the gym leader she was up against. “Shut up. Just because you’re going to be at college next month and we’re still in middle school doesn’t mean you can make fun of us.”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “I’m family; that automatically means I can make fun of you.”
Clary looked up for a second. “I’m not your family.” For some reason she looked sad at this and Darcy smiled at her.
“Yeah, well, you and Simon are attached at the hip and that makes you good enough to be made fun of.” Darcy peered at the screen and pointed to the one in the corner. “Use that revive, she’s on her last Pokémon and grass is weak against fire.”
Simon grinned and mimicked her tone from before, “’Pokémon? Really?’”
I've had this idea in my head for a while that Simon and Darcy are cousins and they deal with the weirdness of their lives together. I'm not sure if I like this or not and there may or may not be more but whatever.
