#ANYWAY THIS WAS FUN TO WRITE

[hearttodevour]

the puppet is lying in a heap when the marionettist takes hold of its control.

the wires straighten as she pulls, running up to pulleys in the ceiling and back down. with fluid, almost human movements, the puppet stands up, hands clasped in front of it, facing its mistress.

"hello, pretty thing," she purrs. the puppet curtsies as the marionettist's deft fingers play its strings. it is a pretty thing, painted and lacquered wood in a short, frilly dress. its flawless face is fixed into the image of a serene expression.

"I'm feeling lonely. wouldn't you keep me company?" she steps closer to the puppet, and lifts up its chin with her free hand. she places a kiss on its cool lips.

the question is a jest, the answer predetermined. the puppet is hers, wholly and utterly and it would do just as she wished.

the puppet follows the marionettist in a few waltzing spins across the cluttered room, ending with her on the edge of the bed. the puppet kneels, impassive eyes watching its mistress strip one-handed. she spreads her legs to it, running her hand up her thigh.

the puppet leans in, hands on her inner thighs, and runs its segmented tongue between the marionettist's lips, flicking at the clit in rhythm to the minute twitches of the control. her deep, lingering breaths sound out in the quiet room.

"slower," the marionettist breathes, and without delay the puppet slows, with long licks and gentle circles. it's a nimble thing, precise in its servitude. the marionettist leans her head back.

"my pretty little toy," she says, biting her lip, then twitches with a sharp moan. "there," she says, and the puppet's tongue replicates its motion, growing faster with each flick. Soon its mistress lacks the breath for orders, but strings yank it to right where it is needed, force its tongue deeper inside her. the pretense falters and the puppet is reduced to an instrument of her pleasure, her fingers blurring in furious motion.

she orgasms and the puppet shudders and twitches and writhes in an echo of its mistress's thrashing. finally it falls limp on the floor. the marionettist pants, exhausted and euphoric. after some long moments, she reaches for the control, swaying from the ceiling. the puppet rises and goes to lie down next to her.

she wraps her arms around it, pulls it against her, and strokes its hair, smiling all the while.

[ciircex]

Alastor [ @culling ] declared, "there you are, darling. ” 👀 || My muse is being hit on by someone they aren't interested in and are visibly uncomfortable. Send, "there you are, darling" for your muse to come and wrap their arm around mine's waist to guide them away.

The ALLURE of a femme fatale seemed to have followed her EVEN in death, which was flattering but it also could be such an... annoyance. Compliments were all FINE && DANDY, stroking her already HIGH self-esteem, but it was a problem when the compliments just became LEWD comments that just irritated her to no end. [ IT WASN'T EVEN TASTEFUL FLIRTING, SOMETHING SHE COULD PLAY ALONG WITH. HOW DREADFUL! ] "How ADORABLE, you think you have a chance with me," she TEASED, though an edge was gleaming under her words, threatening to cut the fellow sinner if they persisted. All she wanted was to walk home from her boutique, alone && without a CARE in the world. Circe should've known that her TEASING remark would have just flown over the horny sinner's head, thinking it was an invitation to invade her space further. A SCOWL presented itself upon her lips && she was fully prepared to bite the head off the other [ METAPHORICALLY, OF COURSE ] but she stopped as she saw the sinner's expression turn VISIBLY afraid. How curious, why did this sinner, who seemed to have been so ADAMANT about going home with her now seem so AFRAID? Circe got her answer within a few SECONDS, an arm wrapping around her WAIST guiding her away from the sinner && a voice accompanied by RADIO STATIC, simply stating: "there you are, darling." She let a SMILE cross her ruby red lips, allowing Alastor to guide her away, anything to get AWAY from any other... unwanted attention. "Thank you for HELPING out, little old me. I SWEAR a lady such as myself can HARDLY walk home alone anymore without some... PRICK thinking he can rizz me up." Her demeanor had changed, FINALLY relaxing now that she wasn't STRESSED at being so lewdly talked to.

[windfighter]

Kouji on ice

Prompt: Ice pack

-------

Winter. Snow had fallen during the night, melted and frozen again. The streets were slippery and people shuffled more than they walked. Kouji was as well, unintentionally, as he made his way over to Takuya for a movie night while Kouji’s parents were out of town. He was almost there when a particulary nasty patch of black ice, invicible to the eye, covered the sidewalk. Kouji put a foot on it and his foot instantly slid forwards faster than Kouji could counter. The ground came closer fast. Kouji’s hands shot out to brace the fall. Pain exploded from his left shoulder, then his hands slid away from him as well and he landed on his butt.

”...ow.”

Every part of his body ached. He put his right hand on his left shoulder and winced. Took deep breaths. The pain slowly crawled back, settled in his shoulder, arse and lower back. At least he didn’t seem to have broken anything.

He rolled his shoulder. Pain flared up and he let out a groan before closing his eyes. Perfect. On the day when his mom wasn’t home and he was supposed to hang with Takuya. He looked at the sky, considered his options. He could always cancel and go to Kouichi instead, but… He had been looking forward to this. They had spent the whole week planning since it wasn’t often just the two of them got to hang out. Most of the time Kouji spent his spare time with Kouichi to catch up on all the years they missed growing up.

Kouji put his hand to the ground and tried to push himself up. His hand and feet slid on the ice and he fell right back down. His shoulder hurt and he cursed. Hoped no one saw him. He tried to find a comfortable position for his shoulder, used his other arm to support it. A shiver ran through his body. The air was chilly and the ice he sat on did little to make him warmer.

Maybe he should call someone?

He put his arm in his lap, held his breath as a new bout of pain rushed through it. It was… probably not dislocated. It should be hurting more if it was. At least Kouji hoped so, but he had obviously injured it in some way. He filled his lungs with air, released it slowly. Grabbed his phone and called Takuya.

It was bad when he had to ask Takuya for help.

”Hello?”

”Hey, uh… Come give me a hand?”

The ache in his shoulder was so bad. Kouji closed his eyes, tried to focus on Takuya’s voice and ignore the pain.

”Are you okay?”

”Yeah.” He really wasn’t. ”Mostly at least. Just can’t get up. Bambi on ice and all of that. Did you know that ice is slippery?”

Takuya laughed. Kouji was some kind of frustrated.

”Alright, where you at?”

Kouji stuck his tongue out. His cheeks felt hot.

”You’ll probably spot me when you step outside.”

Takuya was quiet for two seconds. Kouji felt embarrassed over the whole situation. Worst of all – mom and dad would probably not trust him on his own after this.

”On my way”, Takuya said. ”See you in a bit.”

Kouji nodded, ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket. Put his right arm under his left to decrease the pain and waited. His body shivered worse. Maybe he should have called Kouichi instead.

Takuya opened the door and looked around. Kouji stared at him, waited. Didn’t wave because he really didn’t want to move his shoulder again. Takuya smiled when he finally noticed where Kouji was sat, but the smile changed into a frown. He took a few quick steps, but slowed down when he slipped on the ice. At least he didn’t fall. Kouji laughed. It would have been stupid and hilarious if both of them ended up injured on the sidewalk.

”Hey”, Takuya said and stopped next to Kouji. ”Ground’s slippery.”

”Told you”, Kouji laughed.

Takuya raised an eyebrow, his eyes zeroed in on the way Kouji held his arm. Kouji gave a one-shouldered shrug.

”So when you said you were okay…”

”I said mostly. Help me up?”

Takuya smiled, shook his head and put his hands on Kouji’s knees. Shoved him over to the side where there was still some snow to provide some resistance. Kouji took a deep breath, got his feet under himself. Takuya grabbed his right arm as Kouji stood up and almost slipped again despite the snow. His back twinged and he pressed his face against Takuya’s shoulder.

”Sorry I fell”, he mumbled against it.

Takuya laughed. It shook Kouji’s body, pain shot through his shoulder and he groaned. Takuya stopped laughing.

”How bad is it?”

”Not bad enough to need a hospital?” Kouji said but it sounded more like a question. ”I really just want to get inside already though.”

His body was still shivering. Takuya noticed, pulled away and hung his jacket over Kouji’s shoulders. He wrapped an arm around Kouji’s waist and started walking towards the house.

”Good idea, let’s get you inside and into some warmer clothes.”

It sounded too good to protest and Kouji let Takuya lead him inside. Takuya’s arm was warm, chased away some of the cold from Kouji’s body and offered some comfort from the way his shoulder hurt with every step. Takuya pulled away when they reached the house, opened the door. Kouji felt cold again. Stable, but cold. He tried not to let it show, but his body betrayed him, still shivered. Takuya walked infront of him up the stairs, opened the door to the apartment.

Shinya’s loud voice echoed outside as the door opened and Kouji’s head suddenly felt heavy. He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath. Takuya patted his uninjured shoulder.

”He’ll leave soon, dad’s giving him a ride to Tomoki’s place and he’s a bit late.”

”Yeah, I’m just…”

Kouji didn’t know how to explain it. Takuya snickered.

”In pain?” he suggested.

Kouji hmpfed, walked past Takuya into the apartment and sat down on a chair. He leaned forwards to untie his shoes, but his shoulder shifted, moved, hurt, and he sat up straight again, held his breath. Takuya came inside as well, closed the door and looked at Kouji. Tilted his head with a worried smile. Kouji closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall.

”So having a hurt shoulder absolutely sucks”, he said.

Takuya laughed and Kouji opened his eyes again. Watched as Takuya knelt infront of him and untied his shoes. Kouji kicked them off and Takuya put them to the side before helping Kouji out of his coat. The door opened again and Takuya’s dad arrived. Kouji stood up, started moving towards the living room, but Takuya stopped him.

”Hey dad! Can you look at Kouji’s shoulder before driving Shinya?”

”I’m fine, Takuya”, Kouji said.

Because he really didn’t need more people to know how useless he was at walking. Takuya snorted.

”I know”, he said, ”but I want someone who knows stuff to look at it before we start fighting.”

Kouji rolled his eyes and laughed. Shook his head.

”I’m going to the couch. Hi, Mr Kanbara.”

”Hey Kouji. What happened to your shoulder?”

Kouji wasn’t sure how Takuya’s dad was supposed to be able to do something. He grimaced because he had really prefered to just forget the whole thing.

”Slipped on the ice. It’s probably nothing, but…”

”Could be. I’ll look at it in a minute, you go sit down.”

Kouji bowed his head and hurried into the living room. Shinya had retreated from it and Kouji sank down in the couch. He was still shivering and Takuya’s worried gaze returned.

”I have some warm clothes you could borrow?” he suggested.

Kouji curled up against the side of the couch. He considered. He was supposed to head back home later in the evening so he hadn’t brought any extra clothes, but he also hadn’t counted on getting stuck on ice for ten minutes. He nodded.

”Yes, please.”

He sounded a little too whiny for his own liking, but Takuya smiled. Patted Kouji’s right shoulder and disappeared to the bedroom. Takuya’s dad stepped inside. He stopped by the couch, scratched the back of his neck. Kouji curled up further. He felt way too vulnerable and exposed and he didn’t like it. This was supposed to just be a relaxing evening where he and Takuya watched movies and ate popcorn and instead it was… this. Kouji winced as the pain in his shoulder shot up again.

”Clothes!” Takuya’s voice called from behind.

A thick sweater and sweatpants landed in Kouji’s lap. Takuya appeared infront of Kouji two seconds later. Kouji shook his head, grabbed the hem of his shirt and tried to pull it over his head. His shoulder screamed in agony and Kouji stopped moving. Held his breath. Prayed to the gods of the digital world that Takuya and more importantly Takuya’s dad couldn’t see how bad it hurt. He wasn’t quite that lucky. Takuya grabbed his hand, forced him to let go of the shirt and guided it through the hole of the t-shirt, gently pulled it over Kouji’s head and injured arm. Takuya’s hands were warm where they brushed Kouji’s skin and Kouji’s cheeks felt hot.

”You’re absolutely freezing”, Takuya said and tossed the shirt to the side. ”How long were you out there?”

”Ten minutes?” Kouji guessed. ”Might not even have been that long.”

Takuya’s dad put a hand on Kouji’s injured shoulder, pressed at it, and Kouji pulled a sharp breath, reached for Takuya and grabbed his arm. Takuya stepped closer and Kouji pressed his face into Takuya’s side.

”Shit. Okay. I wasn’t ready”, he said when he could breathe again.

”Well yeah, otherwise you would have braced against it”, Takuya’s dad laughed. ”It’s a bit swollen, can you move it?”

Kouji kept his face pressed into Takuya’s side, carefully lifted his arm and rolled his shoulder. He could but…

”It’s… pretty painful”, he admitted.

”Might be a sprain. I’ll get you an icepack.”

”You can sprain your shoulder?” Takuya asked.

There was an amused tone in his voice that Kouji didn’t like one bit. He let go of Takuya and leaned back in the couch instead. Shivered.

”Sprain is just a torn ligament and we have a lot of those”, Takuya’s dad answered.

”That… uh…” Takuya glanced at Kouji. ”That actually sounds pretty painful.”

”Coulda told you that”, Kouji snorted.

Takuya’s dad left and Takuya grabbed the sweater he had brought, pulled it over Kouji’s arm while being careful to not nudge his shoulder. Kouji took a shaky breath. He felt so… stupid. He let out a sigh.

”Sorry for getting injured.”

”It’s fine”, Takuya answered.

He tried to navigate the sweater behind Kouji’s back and Kouji leaned forwards to help. Put his other arm into the sleeve while Takuya held it out for him. Takuya zipped the shirt up and Kouji stood up. Realized that his pants were a bit damp, probably from his butt melting the ice.

”I can change pants on my own”, he said when Takuya moved closer to help.

Although some help would probably have made it easier, Kouji realized when he pulled them down and his shoulder shifted. He kicked them off, pushed them to the side with his foot and grabbed the other pair. It was a little harder to get them on. Gravity worked against him and they fell down to the floor again when he tried to change his grip and they slipped through his fingers. He took a deep and frustrated breath. Takuya watched him, a hand over his mouth and a way too amused expression on his face.

Takuya’s dad returned. Kouji’s cheeks burned and he leaned down, grabbed the pants with both hands and pulled them up. The pain in his shoulder exploded, crawled down his arm, made him dizzy. Black spots danced infront of his eyes and he stumbled forwards. Takuya grabbed him, sat him down in the couch. Kouji’s breaths were shallow, didn’t quite fill up his lungs.

”...Do you want us to call your parents?” Takuya’s dad asked.

He put the icepack on Kouji’s shoulder. The cold numbed the pain somewhat and Kouji’s breaths relaxed. He should probably let them know what had happened. It wasn’t like they’d drop whatever they were doing and head home straight away. But there wasn’t much they could do from out of town either. Kouji took a deep breath and nodded. Might as well. Takuya grabbed Kouji’s phone, sat down next to him on the couch and wrapped an arm around him. Kouji closed his eyes and leaned against Takuya, listened as they made the call, as Takuya started the television, as Shinya returned and started excitedly talk about spending the night at Tomoki’s place.

”Are you tired?” Takuya whispered in the middle of Shinya’s rant.

Shinya kept talking, probably hadn’t heard it. Kouji blinked, looked at the television. He could go for a nap, but it didn’t feel like tiredness, not in the normal sense. He couldn’t describe it to himself even if he wanted to.

”Think I’m just… overwhelmed by everything?” he tried.

”Do you want to go home?”

”No!”

Kouji did not. He had been looking forward to hanging with Takuya so much. Shinya fell silent and Kouji blushed when he realized he had raised his voice.

”No, I’m… good. Fine. I want to stay”, Kouji said and looked away.

Pulled away from Takuya, who pulled him right back.

”Good”, Takuya said. ”I like having you here.”

Takuya’s dad came inside, handed the phone to Kouji.

”Kousei wants to talk to you.”

Kouji wedged the phone between Takuya’s shoulder and his cheek, watched as Takuya’s dad gestured for Shinya to get ready to go.

”Hey, dad”, Kouji said into the phone.

Shinya got up, followed his dad to the hallway. Takuya changed the channel on the television, stopped at a gameshow Kouji had never seen before.

”Are you okay?”

Kouji shivered slightly. He was a bit warmer, dressed in Takuya’s clothes and with Takuya’s arm around him, but not completely heated up yet.

”...mostly”, he admitted.

”Do you want us to come home?”

They’d return the next evening anyway. Kouji shook his head.

”I’m fine, Takuya’s helping me.”

Takuya hugged him closer. Kouji closed his eyes again.

”Alright”, his dad said in the phone. ”Will you be able to walk Wolf?”

Kouji groaned. He had forgotten the reason he wasn’t staying at Takuya’s over the night – he needed to take his dog outside in the evening and morning. He moved his shoulder and took a sharp breath. Shit. He hated to admit it but…

”...I won’t. I’m sorry, I’ll solve it somehow.”

His dad laughed and Kouji blushed. It wasn’t funny in any way, shape or form.

”Don’t worry about it, I’ll call the neighbours and ask them to do it. You stay there and we’ll come get you tomorrow.”

Kouji started protesting but his dad interrupted.

”I already talked with Mr Kanbara about it. In fact he insisted.”

Kouji sighed. Takuya changed the channel again. Maybe he was getting bored. The door to the apartment opened and closed and Shinya’s voice disappeared. Kouji grabbed Takuya’s hand, realized what he had done and hoped the ground would open up and swallow him. It didn’t. Takuya squeezed his hand.

”Yeah okay”, Kouji said into the phone. His voice trembled. ”Thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Takuya grabbed the phone and ended the call and Kouji leaned heavier against Takuya. Takuya squeezed Kouji’s hand again.

”So?” he asked. ”Are they coming to take you from me?”

Kouji shook his head, pulled away from Takuya and leaned against the back of the couch instead. The icepack started sliding off his shoulder and he grabbed it and placed it in a better position.

”Been ordered to stay here until tomorrow evening”, Kouji answered. ”So we’ll have time to watch all those movies we were arguing about.”

”If you’re forcing me to watch Titanic I’m throwing you out though.”

Kouji snorted and shook his head.

”That was a joke, Izumi said I should suggest it just to see your reaction. You did look hilarious when I did.”

”It’s for girls”, Takuya argued.

Kouji took a deep breath. He was too tired to do any kind of arguing. Takuya noticed, grabbed a blanket from the armchair and stood up before wrapping it around Kouji.

”I’ll order pizza for us, you take a short nap on the couch while we wait for them and I boot up a movie.”

Kouji started protesting but was once again interrupted.

”It’s not a question”, Takuya said.

He leaned down, kissed the top of Kouji’s head. Quickly stepped away again. His cheeks were red. Kouji’s felt hot as well. Takuya looked away.

”It’ll just be more fun if you have energy to argue”, he said and took the phone from the couch.

Kouji… didn’t know what to say. He scratched the back of his neck, nodded and laid down. Swallowed and watched Takuya as he walked away, into the kitchen. Closed his eyes.

The evening was shaping up to be more interesting than he had thought.

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[geezmarty]

(bellara/taash) nerd/jocks lovers rise up

[black-quadrant]

sometimes all you need is one passionate person who goes berserk for your work to keep you creating

[evilmafuyu666]

[deerspherestudios]

Would it be possible for m/c to ever possibly escape and if so what would his reaction be ?

Now why would you want to escape? There's nothing wrong with your mushroom friend ::-)!

(Technically not canon,,, yet,,,, this was a Patreon sketch request!!)

[lucabyte]

monologue

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[teethlordd]

There are worms in my head

[ping-ski]

shrödinger's plex fic (they are real to me)

EBY eclipse and y/n ref here!! :3

[wasabi-gumdrop]

neon glory squad 💖

[notherpuppet]

Do you not know what aroace means?

Personally, I don’t think kissing is sex, but u let me know if I’m misunderstanding what you’re trying to say to me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Info on aroace identity

[moonlightcycle571]

Wouldn’t it be funny if Billy could only give powers to one person at a time, so the Vasquez kids take turns being Captain Marvel Junior (as they still look like kids) and they make everyone thinks it’s one shape shifting child.

Reporter: Captain Marvel, who is this new protoge worth you?

Marvel: you’ve met Junior though?

Mary, who wanted to take over: yeah we talked last week.

Reporter: ah what

At first it’s just Mary and Freddy (mostly Freddy cause he’s really into being a superhero) so everyone thinks Captain Marvel Junior is a shape shifting gender fluid kid and Marvel is a supportive dad.

But then the other Vasquez’s join in the fun

Reporter: Captain, new protoge?

Eugene, in it for shots and giggles: Claire, it’s me, Junior

Reporter: … you’re Asian now?

Eugene: woooooowww

Marvel: that’s low even for you

Reportee: but I-

Eugene: Both Captain and I have lived lives of many genders, colours and have been in many cultures. And yet you shame me for feeling nostalgic and reverting to an ancient form of mine.

Reporter: I- w h a t

It’s sparks a lot of debate of cultural appropriation for shapeshifters in general, with a lot of people invoking Martian Manhunter, fae and other shapeshifters. So naturally Pedro steps up

Captain Marvel and Junior both volunteering at a homeless shelter.

Reporter: … junior?

Pedro: yes?

Reporter: what are you doing

Pedro, making an ancient Mexican recipe he got from the Library in the Rock: making a dish I learned a couple of centuries ago from my then family.

Reporter, really doesn’t want to get cancelled: ok

Naturally this takes a lot of coordination, and a lot of people test them by giving info to one kid, and different info to the other. Solomon sees right through them cause the divine group chat is connected to Billy and the chosen Junior. Things were starting to chill for a bit. Then Darla joined in.

Darla, visibly younger than the other forms: Hi :D

Reporter: why do you keep getting younger and younger???

Darla: :3

At this point the reporter is so done. Are you a child with a lightning emblem on you? You are Captain Marvel Junior. And it seems to work most of the time.

Billy: *gets deaged as Cap*

Reporter: oh junior! New form? This one looks closer to Cap!

Billy: I’m not Junior???

Reporter: *bluescreens*

Bonus:

In a Justice League Meeting

Flash: So is Junior like a mantle? If so why is it only one kid at a time?

Hal: yeah, what do the others do when you take one at a time?

Billy, an absolute troll at heart: what do you mean, it’s the one kid?

Superman: what???

Billy: yeah so Junior hasn’t settled into which form they like the best and switch it up. I think they like it better that way.

Martian Manhunter, troll n2: *nods along* finding ones main form is an important part of self discovery. On Mars, many like to alternate between forms as they could not be tied down to one.

JL: ah

Bonus 2:

Batman: *slowly puts away the ‘Not An Adoption Problem’ Support Group invite*

Bonus 3:

Dudley: please please please please

Billy, fed up: WHY

Dudley: it’ll be so funny.

Billy: you know what, fine!

Later Dudley is given some powers but decides to only let the Reporter see him.

Reporter: … Junior????

Dudley: no one will ever believe you *flies off*

[solarmorrigan]

The Witch and The Carpenter

For the @steddie-spooktober day 23 prompt: Witch Rated: T | Words: 2862 | CW: None | Tags: fantasy AU, witch!Eddie Munson, carpenter!Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington gets migraines, Eddie Munson needs a hug, Steve Harrington needs a hug, they're perfect for each other hugs all around Divider credit: @saradika

Eddie hears about the new carpenter within hours of his rolling into town – of course he does; any witch worth their salt knows exactly what’s going on in their town at all times (it’s hard not to, when you’re the one providing the potions and charms that help everyone else keep their secrets).

His name is Steve, and he’s come with hopes of filling the hole left when Benny, the previous town carpenter, had died without an heir to his business. People say that he seems hardworking and capable, that he’s strong and handsome, that he’s friendly enough, but that there’s something a little distant about him – a little lonely (though the older ladies who give Eddie gossip do tend to romanticize at times).

Eddie doesn’t expect to meet him as soon as he does, but before even his first week in town is out, Steve turns up on Eddie’s doorstep, looking at once earnest and wary, and just as handsome as the gossip had said.

(Not that that last bit has any bearing on anything.)

“People in town say you’re the one to see for remedies,” Steve says when Eddie gets the door open.

“People in town say a lot of things,” Eddie replies. “But in this case, they’re right. Come on in.”

Inside, Eddie finds out that Steve is seeking a remedy for headaches. But not just any headaches; these seem to be full-body affairs that can keep Steve down for days at a time. He gets dizzy, nauseous, is bothered by any noise, and even candlelight can be too bright for his eyes.

Eddie mixes him up something strong, gives him strict instructions on how it’s to be taken, and then moves on to the matter of payment.

At that, Steve begins to look sheepish.

“I’ve only just set up my business. I… don’t have much money yet,” he admits. “I was hoping you might be willing to do a trade.”

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “And what do you have to trade that you think might interest me?”

“Your door?” Steve offers.

“…what about my door?” Eddie asks after a long moment of confused silence.

“It sticks. You were having trouble getting it closed earlier. I could fix that,” Steve says.

And it’s true – Eddie’s front door does stick. So does the back door. The shutters often refuse to open or shut properly, and the porch sags a little, and there’s a leak in the roof when it rains hard enough. While Eddie is the best in the business when it comes to working magic, he’s not so handy with home repairs.

(It doesn’t particularly help that witches exist in an odd sort of social limbo. Every town needs one—this is generally acknowledged as truth—but no one particularly wants them around. Eddie lives a little ways away from town, up against the forest line, where it’s easy to ignore him and his shabby house unless someone needs something from him. No one has ever exactly been chomping at the bit to come help him fix the place up.)

Eddie shouldn’t say yes. He often trades goods and services, but he doesn’t know this man. He doesn’t know if he’s reliable, doesn’t even know if his work is any good – but something in him wants to agree, anyway.

Maybe it’s the earnestness of his offer, or the hope in his expression that he’s clearly trying to quash, or maybe Eddie’s just a sucker for a pretty face, but eventually he finds he can’t say anything but, “Okay, sure.”

“Thank you,” Steve sighs as he accepts the potion. “How would tomorrow work for you?”

Still not entirely sure he expects Steve to show up, Eddie says that tomorrow is fine. If he doesn’t show, if he thinks he can fleece a witch and continue living peacefully in town, he’ll quickly find out otherwise. And if he does come back – well, it would be nice to have a door that doesn’t stick anymore.

“What’s your favorite color?” Steve asks before he leaves.

“Red,” Eddie answers, one brow raised in a question that Steve doesn’t answer.

“Red.” Steve nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The next day, Steve is back bright and early with a bag of tools and a pot of paint. He tells Eddie not to mind him, he’ll just get to work and try to stay out of Eddie’s way, but Eddie can’t help but watch as Steve inspects the door hinges, the frame, and then not only trims the door down, but sands and paints it, too.

Red: Eddie’s favorite color.

Anyway, it isn’t Eddie’s fault for getting distracted. There’s an unfairly attractive man doing manual labor in front of his house, what’s he supposed to do?

Eventually, though, Eddie does force himself to look away. He shouldn’t get attached to things he knows he can’t have. He’s the witch; he’s in the background of everyone else’s story, he doesn’t get to have one of his own – especially not with someone like Steve.

And that’s fine, Eddie had accepted that long ago. He likes being able to help people, and it’s sort of the only thing he’s any good at. He won’t deny that it stings sometimes, the way people talk about witches—about him—but what should he care about what other people think?

In any case, it doesn’t matter, because once Steve finishes with the door, it’s unlikely the two of them will cross paths again any time soon.

Steve finishes the door (it now opens and closes smooth as butter) and goes home.

And comes back the next week.

“Finished what I gave you already?” Eddie asks.

Steve shrugs. “Stress always makes the headaches worse, and with travelling and setting up shop…”

Eddie nods, pursing his lips in thought. “I could make you a bigger batch, but it would cost you more.”

“I can fix those shutters.” Steve nods towards the windows. “And you mentioned something about the back door?”

“You’re going to neglect your real customers, spending all your time fixing up my house,” Eddie teases.

“I can make the time,” Steve says, smiling at Eddie. “I think it’s worth it.”

Eddie has to turn away again, reminding himself that Steve is talking about the medicine, not him.

He fixes up a bigger batch of that same strong potion he’d made the previous week (“I’ve never had anything work so well,” Steve had practically gushed. “It was more than worth my work.”) and Steve comes back the next afternoon to start work on the back door.

They talk more this time, when Steve takes breaks, when Eddie is between tasks and brings him cool water to drink, and Eddie finds that Steve is funny and sweet, and catty and sharp, and a bigger gossip than even Eddie himself. And he reminds himself, again and again, that Steve is not for him. This isn’t how the story goes.

Witches don’t get nice things.

(And that’s fine. Eddie is fine with it. He’s fine.)

They do, however, get increasingly nice houses, apparently. Or at least Eddie does. Steve paints the back door red, too, and then gets to work fixing the shutters. Those, to Eddie’s bemusement, he paints a buttery, golden yellow.

“They don’t exactly scream ‘witch’s cottage’,” Eddie points out.

Steve only shrugs. “It’s my favorite color,” he says, flashing a grin at Eddie. “Besides, I think they go with the doors.”

Eddie doesn’t argue.

It goes on like this. Eddie brews medicine for Steve’s headaches, and Steve finds things around the house to work on. He fixes the leak in the roof, the creaky porch steps, the drawer in the kitchen that will never stay closed; his business picks up in town, but he always makes time for Eddie.

As much as he can, at least.

“I’ve got a few big orders built up,” he says apologetically one afternoon as he collects his medicine from Eddie. “I’m not sure when I’ll have time to get to the cabinets like I said I would, but I can pay you–”

“Nah.” Eddie waves Steve’s offer away before he can pull out any coins. “I’ll just put it on your tab.”

Eddie doesn’t do tabs.

Steve looks skeptical. “If you’re sure…”

“Of course I am. And if, for some reason, you welch on our deal,” Eddie gives Steve a sharp grin, “I do know where you live.”

“You should come visit, then,” Steve says.

Eddie falters. “What?”

“If you want to, I mean.” Steve shrugs, avoiding Eddie’s gaze. “Just– if I can’t make it out here, maybe you could come see me, instead.”

And again, he’s so earnest, trying so hard not to look too hopeful, that Eddie can’t say anything but, “Alright, I will.”

The way Steve lights up at that is worth just about anything he could have Eddie do.

Eddie tries to remind himself of this as he ventures into town the next week.

He doesn’t go into the town proper very often; he grows a lot of what he needs and trades for a lot of the rest of it with customers; he’s a rare enough sight that some people stare, and whisper, and Eddie does his best to hold his head up high and walk without a care.

And if he pulls faces at some of the more egregious offenders, causing them to gasp and scurry away, scandalized, well – Eddie is allowed his simple pleasures.

Anyway, Steve is all smiles when he finds Eddie at his door, and that’s the most important thing. He ushers him through the shop (a large, warm space that smells of wood shavings and sweet smoke, just as Eddie’s come to associate with Steve) and into the living space above. He serves Eddie tea and cake with a studied nonchalance that says he doesn’t want Eddie to realize how excited he is.

How excited he is to see Eddie.

Eddie searches for anything else to focus on before he does something ridiculous, like act on the rising warm feeling in his chest. He finds it, oddly, in Steve’s eyes.

“Have you been sleeping?” Eddie asks him; the shadows beneath his eyes look almost like bruises.

Steve shrugs. “I’ve been busy.”

His hands are shaking, Eddie realizes, as he pours the tea for the both of them. Steve must notice Eddie noticing, because he folds his hands back into his lap with a little huff.

“Happens sometimes,” he says brusquely. “More annoying than anything. Carpenters are supposed to have steady hands.”

(Eddie wonders sometimes what must have happened to Steve, but he’s seen some of the scars that adorn his body, has seen the faraway look that gets into his eyes from time to time, and he thinks he knows. Steve has the bearing of a soldier, and the eyes of a man too kind to have ever been made to fight for a king who doesn’t give a damn about him.)

Taking the hint, Eddie changes the subject, but the thought of Steve’s shaking hands follows him home. All those tools, all those sharp things he works with – maybe Steve isn’t his, not his to worry over or to care of, but Eddie decides he’s damn well going to do it anyway.

The next time Steve comes by, Eddie slips him an extra packet along with his usual potion.

“You brew it like tea,” Eddie says to Steve’s confused glance. “Should help steady your hands, when you need it.”

Steve stares down at the packet for several silent seconds. “You didn’t have to–”

“But I wanted to.”

Shaking his head, Steve looks back up at Eddie. “How can I–”

Eddie waves him off before the question is fully formed. “Let’s say it’s on the house, for my best customer.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” Steve says, not without amusement.

“Then how about my favorite customer?” Eddie offers.

Steve is smiling now. “Are you allowed to have favorites?”

“I’m the witch,” Eddie reminds him with a smirk. “I can do whatever I want.”

And so it goes.

And so it might have continued going, if it hadn’t been for the night Steve turns up at Eddie’s door well after dark, looking grey and haggard and haunted.

Eddie ushers him in, sits him down, makes him some tea, and tries to get some words out of him.

“Do you make anything to help people sleep?” is what Steve finally asks.

“I can,” Eddie says slowly, watching Steve carefully.

Steve drops his face into his hands, rubbing harshly at his eyes. “I just– I just want to sleep. I don’t want to dream, just for one night,” he says, so low that Eddie has to strain to catch all the words. “Just once.”

Eddie weighs his options. He knows how to make an elixir for a deep, dreamless sleep; he won’t deny that he’s used it himself, when certain memories had become too much, but that’s exactly how he knows that it hits hard and fast. It can be disorienting – maybe even a little dangerous, if you don’t know what you’re doing.

“I can make something for you,” Eddie says, “but only if you stay here tonight. I don’t want you walking back home in the dark, it isn’t safe.”

“I don’t… I don’t want to impose,” Steve says, as if he could ever be an imposition to Eddie.

“I’d feel better knowing you’re here,” Eddie says, and that seems to break Steve’s resolve.

By the time Eddie finishes the elixir, Steve is barely awake in his seat. He doesn’t even argue when Eddie leads him to his own bed, lays him down, and tells him to drink.

He’s out like a light in minutes.

Eddie closes the bedroom door and sets himself up in a chair by the fire, but he doesn’t sleep for a long time.

He wakes in the morning to the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. He follows the smell and coffee and sizzling bacon to find Steve there, flitting around the room, cooking.

“Hey.” Steve smiles, broad and true, when he sees Eddie in the doorway. “I was going to come wake you soon, breakfast is almost ready.”

Eddie blinks at him, wondering if maybe he’s the one who took the sleeping elixir, because he can’t quite fathom what he’s seeing: Steve, happy and sleep-rumpled, using his kitchen to cook breakfast like it’s familiar to him, like it’s something he does every day, smiling at Eddie like he’s the final piece missing from the morning.

“I don’t know how I’m going to repay you for what you did last night,” Steve says, determinedly poking at the bacon in the pan. “I can’t– I can’t tell you how much I needed that. How much it helped. But I figured I could at least start by making you breakfast.”

Eddie watches him cook, and feels like his heart is about to crack, because for some reason he’s getting this taste of what life could be like, but he doesn’t get to keep it.

This isn’t for him.

(And Eddie wants to be fine, but he isn’t. He isn’t.)

Something must show on his face, because when Steve looks up at him, his own expression falls into a concerned frown. He forgets all about the bacon and moves over to Eddie, arms outstretched to place his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, so invested, so concerned, that Eddie feels like he might lose his mind.

“This isn’t right,” Eddie manages, and Steve only looks more upset.

“Should I– should I not have done this? Did you want me to go, or–”

“I never want you to go!” Eddie blurts. “I always want you here, but this—this morning, breakfast, you—I don’t get to have this. It’s – it’s not right.”

Steve’s expression softens, eyes warming with understanding. “You can have it, if you want,” he says softly. “You can have me. You always could have. Since the beginning.”

Eddie shakes his head. “This isn’t… this isn’t how the story goes.”

“Then let’s write a new one,” Steve says.

There isn’t anything Eddie can think to say to that, but that’s alright, because that means his mouth is unoccupied when Steve leans in to kiss him.

Steve never has to trade anything for his medicine ever again, after that, nor does he have to come over to fetch it – he’s already there. Eddie’s house becomes the nicest in town, what with his live-in carpenter, and all. It’s painted in bright colors, and it draws people in, and makes them want to stay just a little longer, exchange pleasantries just a little more, and get to know Eddie just a little bit better.

Steve keeps his workshop in town, goes there every morning, and returns to Eddie at night. They start their days with breakfast together, and they end them in bed, pressed together like spoons in a drawer, and with every day that passes by, Eddie believes, more and more, that maybe this is something he gets to have.

Maybe this is something he gets to keep.