joy is not made to be a crumb

Did Merribela for this. It's just cute :3

@dadrunkwriting

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Merrill had never been anything but curious. It had gotten her in plenty of trouble over the years, gotten her into all the trouble of a banishment to Kirkwall, actually, though in truth that wasn’t turning out to be such a bad thing. And she’d been very curious about Isabela, all along. Of course she had. The woman was a pirate, after all! As though there could be anything more romantic or exciting. 

But over time, she’d begun to grow more curious, and then more than curious, and about more than just her stories of booty and plunder. Curious about the way her hands gripped her blades, about the sway of her hips, the sound of her laugh and the smirk of her lips. Curious about her experience. About those experiences that Merrill had regrettably few. 

Merrill had also never been anything but forthright. It was funny, she thought it was funny, that so many of the denizens of this city looked upon her stature and seemed to assume meekness. She had never been known to be meek, back with her clan. That had always been the other thing getting her in trouble. But here, most people assumed she’d be meek, and hurled insults and suggestive comments her way because of it. Some of the insults flew right by her, and others she refuted. Some of the suggestive comments completely baffled her, and Isabela had seemed the best place to go for clarification — and she had been. 

She’d also laughed. Laughed at Merrill’s curiosity and lack of meekness. Laughed at her reactions to the educational explanations she was able to provide. Laughed, particularly, at the way such explanations had prompted Merrill right back into curiosity. But none of that laughter had been cruel. In fact, it had been friendly. And recently they’d adopted a habit of drinking and talking and laughing together, as Isabela imparted some of her worldly wisdom on Merrill and as Merrill imparted some of her own. She liked being friends with Isabela, and that was the only thing giving her hesitation now. 

Now, outside her door. 

Merrill hesitated outside of Isabela’s door at the Hanged Man for some time, her curiosity wrestling with a surprising and sudden bout of meekness. Eventually, though, her curiosity got the better of her, and she knocked. 

“Oh, hello Kitten,” Isabela answered the door with a smile and an affectionate nickname. “I wasn’t expecting you.” 

Merrill stood in her doorway, her tongue going thick. 

Isabela was very pretty. This was not something Merrill had not already noticed. She had beautiful hair and full lips and a particular fondness for revealing the cleavage of her full breasts, especially when they were out drinking together at the Hanged Man. 

But now, in her own room, lit in the glow of a low hanging candelabra above, she was something more entirely. Her leggings and boots were gone, and instead she stood in one of her usual short tunics and only that, her bare legs curving golden right down to the flats of her bare feet. She was shorter this way, without those heeled boots. Not so much taller than Merrill, their faces quite close. Her hair was damp and tousled, as though recently washed and towel-rubbed. She leaned in a comfortable pose, not a posing-pose, and smiled at Merrill with a smile that was happy, and not a teasing smirk. 

“I…” Merrill began, slowly appraising Isabela’s curved body and easy lean and then slowly realising that her eyes were not anywhere near the other woman’s as she stuttered. “I was wondering if you were serious, if you were serious, before, about —” 

Merrill swallowed a deep breath as she moved her eyes back up to Isabela’s pleasantly smiling face and took in her warm amber eyes, glowing in the candlelight. 

“Yes, kitten?”

Now, she smirked. Now, she exaggerated her lean to pop one hip out and toss a sweet smelling mess of recently washed hair over her shoulder. 

“Perhaps I could come in, and you could tell me more about… about the sorts of things we were talking of last night?” Merrill was surprised to hear her own voice sound high and meek. She tried to straighten up, to smile back curiously at her friend and let her eyes communicate the rest of her intent. 

Isabela grinned, reached out, and pulled Merrill into her room by the waist.

Relationships: Bellara Lutare x Female Elf Rook Word count: 2995 (oneshot, complete) Rating: T Main tags: Mid-canon, First Kiss, Making out, Ambiguous Relationships, Writer Bellara Lutare

Excerpt and summary:

“It’s a kiss scene,” Bellara blurts out. "The one I'm stuck on." “Uh-huh.” Rook closes her book and puts it aside. “What’s wrong with it?” “It’s like I can’t get a feel for it. At all.” She gets up from her chair, hoping that maybe a switch from horizontal to vertical can also become a switch from the stuck-state to a flow-state. Doesn’t help. Still worth trying. “If you are out of practice, why not get some?” Rook asks. “Where?” She blinks. “I don’t think there are places where you can get practice kisses from strangers. Well, actually, there are, maybe. But I wouldn’t know.” “Never heard about those, personally.” Rook shrugs. “But I’m right here.”

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: FTabris/FMahariel Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship Words: 760

For @monthlywritingchallenges Trust August “I’m not going anywhere.” and for @floralprintsharks <3

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Alyra Mahariel is everything Kallian Tabris isn’t.

She’s sweet and soft-spoken and kind. She talks to people readily and smiles a lot, and Kallian is a little bit in awe of her. She doesn’t understand how Alyra can still be so positive after everything that’s happened. Kallian only knows a bit about why Alyra had to leave her clan, but even just that, leaving behind everything you know and suddenly being told that saving the world is on you should be enough to make anyone bitter.

First colors of the morning