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undeadcannibal · 11 months

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Hey thought of some cute and funny Headcannons for Ghost, Gaz and Price teaching their s/o on how to make a “proper cup of tea.”

Summary: Ghost, Gaz, and Price show their S/O how to make a ‘proper’ cup of tea.

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Ghost, Gaz, Price

Warnings: None!

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon! I hope I didn’t botch this one. OTL Hopefully y’all enjoy ‘em! ( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost―

Depression was a bitch. Even the simplest things like making food for yourself turned into arduous tasks. Much like today. You were trying to get something - anything, really - into your system just so you didn't feel even worse later on.

Grabbing a mug, you filled it with tap water and set it aside on the counter so you could rummage around through your selection of teas. While you were browsing, you could hear Ghost entering the kitchen thanks his heavy booted footfall, prompting you to glance at him over your shoulder.

"Hey, hon."

Ghost nodded silently as he strode over so he could place a kiss to the top of your head.

"Doin' alright, love?"

Pursing your lips, you hesitated responding before eventually shaking your head. "Not really, no. Having one of those days, I'm sorry..."

He shook his head. "Nothin' to be sorry for."

Looking over towards the counter, he gestured to it silently with a jut of his head. "Making a cuppa?"

"Yeah," You nodded. "I was looking through the teas just now."

"What'd you settle on?"

"Mm," You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe some Earl Grey?"

You watched Ghost squint his eyes down at you, causing you to laugh softly. "What? Don't tell me..."

Ghost's chest puffed up as he took a deep inhale and exhaled slowly as he nodded his head eventually. "No offense, love, but I know when you're not feeling well you tend to throw things into the microwave more."

"I'm 'fraid I can't let you do that. Let me take care of it. I'll make one for myself, too."

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you nodded your head in agreement anyway.

"Fine, fine." Snorting softly, you'd also comment. "Brits and their tea." Shaking your head for good measure.

Reaching around, Ghost delivered a light pinch to your backside, pleased with himself once he saw you jump and yelp in response. Smacking your smaller fists against his hard chest. "Watch your mouth, brat."

Afterwards, he walked away so he could grab the kettle he brought over just because he preferred it over other methods.

"Here," After he filled the kettle with water, he placed it on the stove top to heat up. "I'll teach you how to make proper tea."

Feeling a little better with Simon's company and attention, you couldn't help but nod and smile at him. "Yes Chef~"

Gaz―

"What tea did you wanna brew again?" Kyle asked as he picked out cups for each of you; his was a royal blue with a union jack on it, yours was molded after a black cat with the tail curled up for the handle.

"Oolong, please."

He nodded and took the loose leaf tea bag out, choosing his own shortly after while you took care of putting water into the kettle, setting it aside for it to boil. While you waited for the water to heat up, you walked over to him, pressing yourself into his back as your arms wrapped him up in a loose hug.

"Doin' alright, dove?"

"Mhm." You nodded against him only to jump shortly afterward when you heard the kettle going off, causing him to laugh at you.

Reluctantly pulling away, you'd reach over to take off the kettle from the heat. Readying it to pour straight into your mug before Kyle called out to you.

"Wait!"

Your eyes widened as you halted in mid-air, whipping your head to look at Gaz like he was a mad man. "What? What's wrong?" You asked in a concerned tone, shaking your head at him.

"You're brewing Oolog tea, right?" He waited for you to nod in confirmation before carrying on. "You've gotta let the water cool for a bit before adding it in. Over-boiled water will make the taste turn a bit off. Also," As he rummaged around in the drawer for something, he'd pull out a thermometer shortly after, smirking at you cheekily. "You've gotta let it brew for two to three minutes."

Staring at him with a deadpan expression, you couldn't help but sigh.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

Kyle shook his head. " 'Fraid not, love. Trust me, you'll thank me later."

"It's just tea!" You exclaimed with a chuckle. "I doubt the difference in taste is that noticeable."

"We'll see about that." He'd reply as he took the liberty of checking the temperature of the water.

You ended up just letting him do whatever he wanted so he didn't fuss over how you made tea.

After the two of you were done, you didn't really taste much of a difference than how you'd normally make it, but for his sake, you acted as if it was the best damn cup of tea you'd ever had. Taking pleasure in seeing him light up with pride at his success.

Price―

"How do you take your tea, sweetheart?"

You were currently making breakfast for the two of you while he tended to the tea. In the time you'd spent together, you'd learned that when he wasn't busy with work, he tended to prefer having tea over coffee when he could.

"Um," Scrambling the eggs in the pan, you hesitated in answering. "I guess sweet is fine?"

"Just... sweet?" John asked, turning to look at you with an amused expression on his face.

Meeting him with a glance of your own, you squinted your eyes at him as if daring him to say something. "Yeah? Don't tell me you prefer unsweetened tea." You teased.

John shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. Leaning back against the counter. "No, no. Not sure how they do things in the States, but we've a few ways to make a cuppa here."

"For example," He continued, gesturing vaguely towards the empty cups waiting on the counter top. "The kind I prefer has a bit of milk to it, few bits o' sugar as well."

"Oooh," You laughed softly, stirring the eggs in the pain as you joked with him. "My apologies, Gordon Ramsay, apparently I forgot to brush up on my tea knowledge."

Huffing, he'd glance off to the side with a disbelieving shake of his head. "The nerve of this one..." He mumbled to himself with a smile.

"I'm just saying," He'd begin, pushing himself off the counter so he could step over to stand in front of you. Towering over you with the height difference between the two of you. "Your poor taste buds deserve better, dear."

"Pfft, get out of here!" You laughed, waving at his face with your free hand. Before your hand fell to your side, he captured your wrist in a gentle hold, pulling it towards his face so he could kiss the back of your hand. The rough scrape of his facial hair coaxing a shiver to course up your spine.

"Never~" He spoke against your hand before he began to kiss his way up your arm. Stopping once he was close enough to you he could whisper just loud enough for you to hear. "Let me make you a right cuppa?"

How could you ever say no to that?

#call of duty x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #opened mail #anonymous #requests #my writing

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samwise1548 · 1 year

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Jonmartin comm for @/heavenlysinhell on twitter

———

[ID: a Magnus Archives drawing of Martin Blackwood, a fat white man with shoulder length curly ginger hair with a white streak in it and a blue cardigan on, and Jonathan Sims, a small brown man with dark hair that fades to grey tied in a braid behind his head and wearing a puffy green sweater. They are sitting in a single person couch together, surrounded all around by cats. A black calico sits above Martin’s head in loaf form. A mackerel tabby sleeps in his lap. A fat grey cat lounges on the floor on one side of the couch, while two identical black calico’s sleep atop each other on the other side of the couch. The cats share Jon’s relaxed mood, while an enraged Martin rants on about an unknown topic, his hands flapping about animatedly. He is most likely having a heated one-sided conversation about his hate for oolong tea. Jon, enjoying his Martin-prepared-tea, listens to his boyfriend complain about mundane things along with their five cats. \End ID]

#the cats names are the Colonel the Princess the Dutchess the Baker and the General #they deserve to have multiple cats #jmart #Jonmartin #martin blackwood #Jonathan sims #teaholding #fabric rustles #my art

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allsadnshit · 3 months

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feel out of my element and slept like shit BUT I have my morning taiwanese oolong and matcha honey cinnamon latte and my cat on my lap so I WILL be ok - in time <3

#personal

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citrusstudies · 4 months

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This morning includes:

A nice gong fu session with a lightly oxidized Jade Mountain oolong from Mountain Streams Teas and more lit review fun!

and a bonus snowy cat :)

#college #studyblr #school #study motivation #studying #university #studyspo #citrusstudies #study aesthetic #study with me #gong fu cha #oolong #tea

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heartstringsduet · 4 months

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Really enjoyed the snippets people shared last night and really hope that you're still up for giving us all more on WIP Wednesday because I'm selfish like that 😏 Here's more of Let Me part 6. cw: grief

He finds TK standing in the middle of their living room, right between the couch and the dining table, staring into the far distance of the window. Carlos walks over on soft-socked feet, rubbing moisture from his hair that he used to have a long routine for but finds he doesn’t want to spend time on as much these days. TK doesn’t even notice him until Carlos takes the package of tea he’s clutching from his hands and kisses the hinge of his jaw. He jumps despite Carlos’ carefulness.

“Did you make tea?” Carlos asks softly.

“I was about to, I think.” TK smiles, brittle as tracing paper, as he turns his face to him. “Must’ve gotten distracted by something.”

“Did you see the red robin again? I think there might actually be a nest in the gutters closeby.”

TK huffs, nearly amused, and that is more than enough to ease some of Carlos’ own tension. “Yeah I think I just became a cat for a second there.”

It’s not the first time Carlos has found TK somewhere in their apartment, suspended in a limbo of a task he set out to do, then lost the way to it.

Drawing at TK’s wrist, Carlos leads them over to the kitchen. He makes them both a cup of oolong and chats away as he gets the french toast he’d soaked overnight out of the fridge and heats up the pan. It was a labor of love preparing it, a little sweeter than he’d like, less cinnamon, too, so it’d taste exactly like TK’s favorite breakfast. He’d hoped it would be enough to get him to eat more today after TK skipped dinner.

Carlos does this like he now picks out an outfit he folds neatly on TK’s side of the bed while he showers after finding him sitting on the edge of the bed clutching a single sock. He does this like he puts on a show after TK scrolled through the entirety of any subscription platform they have, eyes unseeing. He does this like he sits down and helps order an online delivery of flowers to the woman TK saved on the plane and like he goes to visit his own parents and get some comfort himself while he gives TK and Owen space. He does this like he now fills any silence like TK usually would.

Open Tag &

@carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @ladytessa74 @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @lightningboltreader @herefortarlos @freneticfloetry @orchidscript @whatsintheboxmh @inkweedandlizards @thisbuildinghasfeelings @carlos-tk @louis-ii-reyes-strand @noxsoulmate @bonheur-cafe @sanjuwrites @strandnreyes @reyesstrand @decafdino @thebumblecee @theghostofashton @kiwichaeng @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @sznofthesticks @liminalmemories21 @fitzherbertssmolder

#tarlos fic #let me verse #wip wednesday #tg

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deathbecomesthem · 2 months

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No Shelter 3 | 2.8K

+18 ONLY Minors DNI

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x AFAB!Partner!Reader

Series Setting: 1999 Los Angeles - No Upside Down AU

Chapter Summary - An escape into the woods, and some time spent with an old friend.

---

The swing is nothing special, it’s weather worn and beginning to splinter. The cushions are sun bleached from after so many mountain summers. It’s not special, not really, but it’s one of the best places you know. Especially when you sit on it with Nancy. The swing on the front porch of her cabin is just like her, sturdy and comforting. It’s peaceful and quiet.

It’s been too long since you’ve sat on Nancy’s swing. You only have yourself to blame, but you try not to. It would be so easy for Eddie to find you here, and a part of you wonders if this is why you chose this spot for your escape. You try not to consider your motivation too hard, try to not let this be a secret test of Eddie’s knowledge of you. You try not to think about what it would mean if he doesn’t even try. It’s not about him, even if it is. It’s about you. If only you knew how to cut him away and see yourself without his shadow looming. You want the sun to shine on your face, even if it’s just for a moment.

This place is one of your homes. One of the places where you can look in the mirror and not be afraid of who might be looking back. It’s just you, isn’t it? Older, but still the same skin you wore the last time you saw your reflection. There are lines where the skin used to be smooth, and so much more gray than you remember. But, oh - that’s your face. You’re thankful to be in this place, where seeing the image of yourself doesn’t seem quite so scary.

“Oolong,” her soft voice brings you out of your reverie, and you accept the tea cup with a smile. “I would have had Darjeeling if I’d known you were coming.”

“Oolong is nice enough, especially if it means I can see you.” Nancy curls up into your side like a cat, and you sit in the cool New England fall evening. The combined force of your bodies begin to rock the old swing gently. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. Too long.”

Nancy sighs and takes a long sip before she answers. You can practically hear the cogs turning in her brain. She’s being cautious, more gentle with her words than her nature normally allows.

“Yes, it’s been too long. You know you can stay here anytime. It’s not like the old days when we couldn’t scrape together enough cash to rub two coins together for fuck’s sake.” She huffs a breath through her nose, “Sorry. I just miss seeing you. I miss Eddie. What the fuck happened?”

The question hangs between you. You don’t know how to answer it, so you don’t. You drink your tea and look out at the old mountains beyond the front yard of your oldest friend’s home and think about what tomorrow might bring.

—

10 minutes before, inside Nancy’s kitchen:

The ringing phone startles Nancy. She almost drops the kettle on her foot. It’s not that she doesn’t get calls from her friends and family when she’s out in the Vermont mountains, but they are few and far between. It’s her writing place, away from the hustle and bustle of her everyday existence. She knows you thought you’d be pulling in and finding the old place empty this time of year, that you didn’t know Nancy would be on a sabbatical. A well deserved break for a full semester in her quiet home away from home. Just her and the old Olympia typewriter that speaks to her like an old friend when her fingers press down on the keys. She loves to make it chatter to her, but right now she’s more interested in the conversation you keep pushing away from. She wants to know why you’re here. Why you look the way you do - bone achingly tired. She wants to know why she’s seeing things in the tabloids about Eddie and some model that looks like she’s barely out of high school.

She grabs the avocado green plastic receiver from its cradle on the wall, peeking towards the front door. No signs of movement, you’re still sitting on the swing waiting for her.

“Hello?” As Nancy says the usual greeting, she realizes she knows exactly who the voice on the other side will belong to. She should have let it ring.

“Nance. Hey, uh, it’s Ed.” His voice is strained. She can hear the pain in it, and she wishes she could reach through the line to wrap her arms around him. Old habits die hard.

“Hey, Eddie. It’s been a long time,” Nancy peeks back around the corner and then leans her head against the wall, satisfied that you’re not going to come through the door to find her talking to your husband. The enemy. “Listen, I can’t really talk right now, can I call you back -”

Eddie doesn’t let her finish. He’s strung tight and doesn’t have the capacity for the bullshit required to pretend he’s calling for any other reason. “Put Sugar on, please. I need to talk to her.”

“Sugar? How is she? I haven’t talked to her in ages.” Nancy keeps her tone friendly, the biting undertone is something that can be chalked up to paranoia if Eddie calls it out.

“I know she’s there Nancy, there’s no where she would go. I know her.” Nancy can hear the wet quality of his voice, and she stands up straighter. She can let him break her resolve, not now. Not while you’re already in pieces and needing her protection.

“Listen Eddie. I love you, you know that, but I can’t do this right now.” Nancy can hear him gearing up for a fight, and it’s the push she needs. Over the edge she goes, ready to let him know what she really thinks, “What did you think would happen, Ed? I might be out in the boonies, but I don’t live under a rock. I’m not playing favorites here, I’m just picking up the pieces of your fucking mess.”

“Please. Please. I’m sorry,” Nancy can hear him take in a hiccuping breath, “I just need to tell her I’m sorry. I need her.”

“Yeah, Ed, you need her. What does she need?” Nancy hangs up the phone before he can say anything more, and then leaves the receiver hanging down to the ground. No more interruptions, he can fly his ass across the country if he wants, but he won’t get through with a simple dial of the phone.

—

Eddie sits on the corner of his bed. Your bed. The bed you share. Used to share. He doesn’t know. He’s in the house. Your house? His house? He loved this house. He thought you loved it too. But you left. And you won’t talk to him. The anger he felt after you abandoned him, just like everyone does, has dissipated. He doesn’t think about you being with someone else anymore, he doesn’t think that’s true. He can recognize that idea as a lie his mind told him. All he knows is that you’ve decided you don’t want him. Don’t need him.

“Yeah, Ed, you need her. What does she need?” Nancy’s words have been playing in a loop inside his mind. A nauseating wave of realization rolled over him like a tsunami when she said them, because how stupid could he be? How fucking blind?

Eddie moves through the house, looking at everything with new eyes. He looks with your eyes. He thinks about the small apartment the two of you shared in those early days. There were always flowers, he remembered. He looks in the room at the end of the hall and sees his guitars lined up in a neat row against the back wall. He closes his eyes and thinks about the way your fingers moved along the keys of the old upright piano you used to have.

When did you decide to get rid of the piano? He can’t remember. He can’t remember the last time you picked up a guitar either. Eddie is standing in the room where all of his musical memories are kept, and he wonders what happened to yours. He closes his eyes tightly again, and tries to remember the last time he heard you sing. He thinks about you and Jeff sitting together in the old apartment, you strumming the guitar and Jeff taking notes. That was the night all of you started to write Promise Me. That’s not quite right, he realizes now. You wrote it.

Eddie closes his eyes tightly. He pictures you at 20. He pictures you now. He thinks he can almost smell your shampoo if he concentrates, he can almost hear your voice. When was the last time he saw you smile? When was the last time you told him anything important? When was the last time you two had a conversation that wasn’t about him. Eddie shakes his head and opens his eyes to the empty room.

You held his feet to the fire time and time again. You held his hand through everything. He needed you, but what did you need? Shit.

—

It’s what you need. The place and the company. The sound of Nancy’s fingers dancing across the keys of her typewriter is the soundtrack to your inspiration. It’s what you’ll remember the most when you think back to the time when the story flowed the easiest to the page. A safe place to say the things you need to say. To remember. Even in the verdant green of the forest, the waves still pound at the timber of your frame. Your sense of self splinters under the continuous assault, but it’s easier to dream at Nancy’s house. Dreams are where you find the things that seem real - realer than what you see under the morning’s harsh sunlight.

It’s easier to remember the before days. Easier to remember that joyful time in the past. In that trailer bedroom with the perpetual haze of weed smoke. With your boy. It was simpler then, head full of dizzying hormones and the fire of new love - there was no time to dwell on the thoughts you had been battling for ages. The otherness. You realize now that you’re back with Nancy that you’ve avoided the mirror that is her company. It puts everything into a context you could not have expected. You find your eyes full of tears when you write about memories you once held as happy. There is a half told story hiding there. How have you missed it for so long?

It takes a solid week for you to find the words you’ve been hiding yourself from since you arrived on the cabin’s doorstep. Truly, though, you’ve been hiding from them for years. Afraid of how it makes you feel to read them. To say them. To think about them in the privacy of your own mind, even there it feels too vulnerable. Alone in your mind, they bang and clatter. They echo around until they are meaningless. It’s a week into your time with Nancy when you decide to let that shit go. You tear a piece of paper from the pad at your side and write them down. You fold it, and set it down on the desk next to Nancy’s cup of coffee. And then you walk out of the cabin and into the woods, leaving the weight of the words behind you.

—

“I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw that paparazzi photo of Eddie and that piece of trash,” loose lips Nancy officially entered the conversation after her third glass of pinot noir. The two of you are sitting on the wooden porch swing listening to the night sounds of the surrounding woods. You know she read your note earlier, but neither of you have brought it up. An unspoken understanding lives between the two of you now, and any concerns about discomfort are gone while the weight of her head rests on your shoulder.

“That’s not very nice, Nancy. She’s just a girl that’s trying to fuck a rock star. Can’t blame her for that. She’s certainly not the first one.” You drain your glass and reach for the bottle sitting on the railing. It’s nearly empty. You’ll have to get another one in a minute, but you’re not ready to feel the move away from Nancy.

“Eddie’s an idiot.” Her words are said with finality. No room for argument, and you’re not inclined to offer one.

“Yeah. Too bad I love him so much.”

Nancy gulps back a mouthful of wine, liquid courage for the question she’s been holding onto for the better part of 12 hours. She’s been trying to find a way to ask, to broach the subject of the note you left for her.

“Ok. You love him. I love him too. Everyone loves Eddie. How could you not? But you’re - you know.” Nancy whispers the last two words, and gestures with her empty hand in a little wave.

“See, I don’t actually know, Nancy. That’s the problem. I know what I said, but it’s not quite right. I think there’s something really wrong with me. Like my skin doesn’t fit right. I look in the mirror and wonder who it is that’s looking back. I don’t know that person. I think about all the times I made love with Eddie, and it was so good. But also…” you trail off, unable to finish your thought. Unable to use words to explain the way you’ve been thinking about yourself in your own head.

“But also, you think you’re gay. Right? That’s what you said in your note. Bisexual? That’s in right now. It’s the 90s, Sugar.” Nancy heaves herself up off the swing and starts to head towards the front door, “Stay. I’m getting another bottle of wine.”

You watch her go and think about what she said. It’s a relief to have the words spoken out into the open air. They feel even lighter now. You think you may be able to bear the weight of them with Nancy sharing the load of them. She’s right, of course, but she’s also wrong. It is the 90s, and you don’t know if you’re gay. You don’t know if you're bisexual. You only know that you’re not just the wife of Eddie Munson. You think you don’t want to be a wife at all anymore. You never really did in the first place.

Nancy’s return brings you out of your reverie. It’s not until she’s sat back down on the swing next to you that you realize she doesn’t have a second bottle of wine. Instead, it’s a bottle of tequila.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Wheeler?” You ask her, helping yourself to a mouthful straight from the bottle, not waiting for an answer.

“A more serious drink to fit the more serious conversation. Question number 1, and it’s an important one so I need an honest answer,” she points her finger at you before taking the bottle back for herself. “Have you ever been with a woman? And if so, do I know her?”

You cough on the burning liquor, caught off guard by the question. “I haven’t. Unless you count all the women I’ve slept with by proxy after being married to Eddie for so long.”

“That doesn’t count, and you know it. Why should he get to have all the fun?”

“I don’t actually think he’s having fun anymore. You know what I want more than anything in the world? More than any man or any woman?” You turn to look at your friend and see her wide eyes rapt with attention.

“What do you want? Tell me, and we’ll go get it for you. Tomorrow morning, we’ll wake up and find a way.” Nancy insists, in the way that she does.

“I want to have the time and space to think and feel without having to think and feel about him. I want to think about myself.”

“That’s easy,” she tells you, handing you back the bottle of tequila, “all you need to do is take it, Sugar. It already belongs to you.”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie munson #eddie munson au #eddie munson x queer!reader

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lanaevyssmoved · 6 months

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OC + Random Associations

tagged by @cetra , @sleepsvessel & @bootheminiaturegiantspacehamster thank you ^_^

Animal

Afhiri sea slugs, isopods (dairy cow and zebra), geckos and other various reptiles, cats, small birds, musteloids (particularly raccoons and red pandas), viverrids, japanese raccoon dogs, opossums Candor lions, various eagles (wedge-tailed, golden, crowned), hawks, swans and geese, bighorn rams, crocodillians, sea turtles, elephants, animals that use sun compass orientation Cirok corvids (raven, crow), dogs (rottweiler, doberman, pinscher, greyhound), venomous black snakes, scorpions, spiders (particularly trapdoor spiders and sicarius), bats, black caiman, sharks

Colors

Afhiri pastels! pink, yellow, orange, green, blue, white, black Candor changes depending on form but in general purple, blue, red, yellow, orange, gold, brown, white, black Cirok black, grey, white - absolutely no Colour (thanks to booboo i now think of like toxic waste green when i think of cirok too)

Month

Afhiri September Candor August Cirok November

Songs

Afhiri tapi tapi - tempura kidz fear. moe shop and fun - sir sly. sir sly's vibe is way off for afhiri but the lyrics were written for her Candor a sun coloured shaker - yndi halda and (spring) this was your place - sunlight ascending Cirok jouska - evenS (probably favourite song of all time btw) and i come with knives - IAMX

Number

Afhiri two/2 Candor three/3 Cirok four/4

Plants

Afhiri celandine, sunflower, pink tulip, daisy Candor bay tree, gladiolus, heliotrope, rose Cirok chives, anemone, begonia, deadly nightshade

Scents

Afhiri fresh morning, grass, dirt, cotton candy, bubblegum Candor cedar, musk, sandalwood, the ocean, burning Cirok decay, death, rot, overwhelmingly of resin

Gemstone

Afhiri tugtupite Candor meliphanite Cirok magnetite

Time of day

Afhiri sunrise Candor midday Cirok night

Season

Afhiri summer Candor summer Cirok winter

Places

Afhiri taverns, meadows, by rivers and lakes Candor monasteries, temples, places of worship Cirok the dank, cold and forgotten, the forbidden

Food

Afhiri sweet things, nothing good for you Candor warm meals Cirok raw meat

Drinks

Afhiri sugary sweet drinks, energy drinks Candor various teas (green, oolong, herbal, black) Cirok piping hot black coffee

Element

Afhiri air Candor fire Cirok water

Seasonings

Afhiri garlic, ginger, cinnamon Candor paprika, turmeric, bay leaves Cirok dried chives, cloves, saffron

Sky

Afhiri the most beautiful sunny cloudless summer sky Candor a colourful golden orange, red, and purple with light cloud cover Cirok stratus clouds, grey, calm and quiet

Weather

Afhiri warm day with lots of sun and a gentle breeze Candor blazing hot summers day with minimal to no wind Cirok cold winters day with fog and light snow

Magical power

Afhiri manipulative magic that makes someone act against their own will, anything that makes them laugh or dance. also the magical power of Insults Candor holy smites, blinding lights and divine energy Cirok phasing into the realm of the dead to walk partly as a ghost

Weapons

Afhiri shortsword and dagger combo, dual hand crossbows Candor mace and shield, longbow, floating/flying greatsword Cirok dual daggers, throwing knives, poisons and venoms

Candy/Sweets

Afhiri cotton candy, bubblegum, and i designed her with fruit salad in mind! Candor spicy roasted pecans, maple roasted sweet potatoes, sea salt dark chocolate Cirok liquorice, black jack, toxic waste

Method of long distance travel

Afhiri roadtrip in a classic volkswagen camper van Candor flying Cirok underground trains

Artstyle

Afhiri impressionism, abstract expressionism, street art, dadaism, CoBrA and fauvism Candor baroque and classicism Cirok optical art and minimalism

Fear

Afhiri of the self, of emotional pain, of returning home Candor of imperfection, of failure, of not being worthy Cirok of being seen, of death, of vulnerability

Mythological creature

Afhiri azeban, mujina, nymph Candor chalkydri, phoenix, psychopomp Cirok tsuchigumo, black dog, gargoyle

Piece of stationery

Afhiri a childs box of crayons, dairy Candor fountain pen, ruler Cirok ink, letter opener

Three Emojis

Afhiri 🤡🍀🪈 Candor ☄️🎇🪽 Cirok 🕷️♟️🔪

Celestial body

Afhiri the moon Candor the sun Cirok black dwarf

THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GUYS... TWO DAYS. I WORKED ON IT FOR HOURS. i hope........ its worth it <3

tagging @cetra @dekariosgale @courierseis @euryalex @hibernationsuit @jerichoes @vanoefucks @captaintiny @gwynbleidd @arduath @rcpunzel @avallachs @fuckitwebhaal @hexdruid @sovereign-spaw @galesgrandad @thefathersbride @dandeyrain @doggybone @swanfey @voerman @full---ofstarlight @chaos-storm @covenscribe @raphaelsboudoir @simtalics @kymal @graynstairs @neonbutchery @hungryblackbird @moxley @thlix @isayashai @darlinghowl @astarionsfordf150 @moon-jun @lovaboy @ratscrap @picklepals @crazy-lazy-elder-sims @rigaudon @neosunbrella @sternenstaub28 @centipisde @kirkwall @lusus--naturae

#fray.txt #oc afhiri #oc candor #oc cirok #this was so rough man.#also candor and cirok dont eat or drink so.#lots of VIBES #and lots of trying to limit myself #as u can see i failed at limiting myself in multiple places ^_^#IM SO HAPPY IM DONE MAN #i know its long on ur dash but im not read moreing the entire thing it took me too long. U WILL LOOK

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