#practical magic season everyone

[dorlilymylovesss]

lily evans

[charmixpower]

OH THEY'RE ACKNOWLEDGING HOW IMPRACTICAL ICY'S HAIR IS!! FUN!!!

Personally I don't mind that the Winx and Trix's outfits are super impractical, I actually really like it. It's a fun bit of characterization. Yes, Icy and Stella do care more about having their hair look good than getting grabbed by in the middle of combat, thank you for asking. It's kinda a insight into things they highly value or think are too important to who they are to leave out of their magical forms, but it's never really acknowledge how impractical these things are??? Like it's not fun if the characters don't acknowledge that, yes they're hair is hella impractical and can easily be grabbed, no they don't care, or face any consequences

Like, I wanna see what styles and things utterly impractical for combat the girls decide they can live with!! That's what makes their fairy forms fun!!! Their girlies your honor!!!

[itsswritten]

feels like home

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: The start of fairy readers journey and how she ended up in the Night Court. Essentially the start of the love story we all now love <3

Wings Universe - More from this world.

Autumn

Now you weren’t the arrogant kind — Fairies were always known to be humble. It’s why for the most part, your kind kept to your meadows, didn’t construct social hierarchy like Fae, and kept those mesmerising wings hidden.

However you were proud of your skills as a fairy. You were dutiful, talented, and worked incredibly hard. The youngest fairy to ever be enrolled on the fairy council. So the fact you were failing now, was quite a humbling awakening.

You blinked again, Elodie’s panicked voice blurring into the autumn breeze.

Your first stop on your travels was the Autumn Court. Visiting your cousin, who had offered refuge after your reluctant departure from Spring. Although you missed your home terribly, you were really trying to embrace this opportunity— the chance to explore a new court, spend quality time with family, and further your studies on the other seasons. Turning the dire situation you had to abandon into something positive.

However things were not going how you had expected. Apparently Autumn didn’t agree with you as well as Spring always had. 

“Y/N, there are snowdrops…in Autumn,” Elodie's concerned tone broke through. Your gaze hadn’t left the scene in front of you. Dewy snowdrops glistening under the cool autumn sun. 

You swallowed, your throat dry. “I’m aware.”

The snowdrops were your flowers. Beautiful but wrong. Your magic had manifested a spring flower in an Autumn court. Something that should never happen. 

It had been two months. Two months of no problems, and although the autumn shades didn’t necessarily suit you and the breeze didn’t sing as sweet as home, you had managed to settle in. 

You learnt how to get by. However the mess in front of you told you otherwise.

“What are you going to do?” Elodie pressed, her nervousness emitting beside you. You never got things wrong, you were always the one everyone else relied on– Mistakes were a rarity for you.

“Trying to figure that out,” your hands fisted the fabric of your dress at your sides. Your mind whirring as you tried to figure out a plan. The intricacies of your ability had always come so naturally to you in Spring, but grappling with a new season left you fumbling for a solution. 

“What. Are. Those?!” Your cousin's voice hitched in a tight tone, her voice hushing towards the end so as to not draw attention. She stalked over, her autumn-hued dress billowing behind her, hands were flailing towards you as she stormed in your direction.

With a spin you turned to her, stepping in front of the patch of snowdrops that had sprouted— as if she hadn’t already seen the little blooms that seemed to sway in the wind in mockery.

“I don’t understand…you were doing so well. I asked you to help bring the harvest along. You know, pumpkins, squash, apples. Not flowers!” Your cousin’s brows were drawn in tight, confusion and dismay in her tone. You could practically see her mind reeling as she took in the scene before her.

Instinctively your hands came up towards her, creating space, trying to calm the situation.

“I know. It’s just a small hiccup, I can reverse it. It’s fine,” you reassured quickly, not even allowing yourself to fester in the worry. 

You were the youngest fairy on the council you reminded yourself— a mentor to many of your friends and colleagues. This would not phase you.

Rolling your shoulders back, you looked at the taunting flowers straight on. Flexing your fingers as a drop of magic glowing like a little firefly, sunk slowly from your fingertips to the ground. Seeping into the deep earth that was covered in a blanket of burnt coloured leaves. 

A beat passed as the three of you held your breath. The forest seemed to hold it’s breath too, it’s mild wind coming to a silence.

Then, one of the buds quivered slightly, vibrating before it began to shrink and swirl back into the ground it had birthed from. A heavy sigh left your lips, shoulders dropping as Elodie gave you a slight smile. Chewing the inside of your cheek you gave her a knowing wink.

But that moment of relief quickly dissipated. Before your eyes more and more flowers began to spring before you. As though your magic had the opposite effect you had intended. 

Relishing in your victory too early served you your humiliation. Your cheeks turning hot as you watched the disaster unfold in front of you. It was rare for you to fluster, but you could feel the simmering of your pride burn deep within your gut at the sight of your mistake. Eyes wide as the white petals spread further beneath your feet.

This had never happened before.

Your fingers twitched beside your sides. Magic at your fingertips itching to resolve the mess, but your confidence had been knocked. You didn’t fully trust yourself or your ability, and that was a hard acknowledgment to make.

“Okay, you need to leave now.” With a light push, your cousin ushered you away from the disaster you had created.

“What? Wait! Just give me a moment to think. To fix this” You pressed back, your ego not allowing you to submit to this defeat.

“I don’t have time y/n. That Vanserra princling’s on his way, and if he’s anything like his father he will have your head. So leave. I will fix this."

Your expression must have spoken a thousand words, words of vulnerability and insecurity, because your cousin's expression softened for a moment. Bringing you to a quick embrace. 

“Your time in Autumn is up. Mistakes happen, and that’s okay. But it’s time to go.”

“But—“

She cut you off. “No but’s. You’ve both done amazing, but let’s not pretend. This isn’t the place for you, don’t think I hadn’t noticed.” Her expression was warm and understanding, as welcoming as the shades of fall. But despite how welcoming this season had been, it didn’t feel like home. 

“Go explore the land, go find somewhere that feels right y/n,” 

“What if…—” 

What if nowhere felt like home? What if you didn’t fit in anywhere else?

Elodie grabbed your hand with a tug then, someone had winnowed to the outskirts of the field. A figure with fiery hair and a tempered presence.

There was no time for what if’s. So you left. Left your cousin to face the flame, and left to find a new home…if that place even existed.

Winter

“Why are the bears awake?!” There was a scream across the forest that ran through the barren trees. You recognised the tone, one of your Winter mentors no doubt. The shriek so sharp that any remaining creature that slept must have surely been awoken.

“Oh no..” Elodie almost cried, her feet slipping in the snow beside you. You could almost hear her heart pounding in sync with yours.

The bear—the bear you had accidentally woken—groaned and yawned, its massive paws stirring the snow as it pawed at the air, confused and sluggish. Its hibernation had been broken, and it was far too early for it to be awake.

You had been at the Winter Court for only a short time, and already, things were falling apart. The sharp, biting cold of the court was one thing, but the coldness of its people? That had been harder to handle. Their bluntness, their stoic ways, had left you feeling like you were constantly on the edge of doing something wrong. And now… you had.

It seems Autumn was not the only season that didn’t agree with you. 

You blinked back your own tears, swallowing hard as you almost lost your own footing.

“Elodie, help me,” you commanded, snapping into action as you pushed against the bear’s thick fur, trying to guide it back to its den. The beast groaned again, but refused to budge, blinking its sleepy eyes at you.

The entirety of your weight was pushing against the giant bear that groaned against you, your heels digging in deep to act as an anchor in the cold white snow.

No matter how hard you tried, against your advice, the bear wanted to wake. 

“Go back to sleeeeeepp little beearrrr- hicc- pretty pleaseeee” Elodie sang desperately, her voice wobbling with panic.

“Elodie that is not the lullaby,” you hissed, your own frustration bubbling up.

“I know, I’m panicking. I’ve forgotten it, y/n. What is it?” She replied beside you, face squashed against the bear’s fur as she tried with all her might to push the bear back to its bed.

You blinked. You couldn’t remember the song either. 

You pressed harder, trying to remember the words yourself. Your breath was coming in ragged puffs, visible in the freezing air. Your wings, though hidden by magic, felt stiff from the cold, and your fingers ached from pushing against the giant furry animal.

By some stroke of luck after several attempts from Elodie to lull the bear back to sleep, the words of the forest lullaby found your tongue. Your magic flowed with the song, wrapping around the bear in a gentle embrace, lulling it back to sleep. Slowly, so slowly, it began to plod back toward its cave, its massive body sinking into it’s cosy bed deep within the cave.

“We did it,” Elodie breathed, her face as flushed and exhausted as you both slumped into the cold snow beneath you. The bears snoring filling the frosty air. “Maybe we got away with–” before Elodie could even finish her sentence, a shadow cast across you under the winter sun.

Your winter mentor, whose expression was as harsh as the court’s wind. Her cold, judging eyes swept over the scene, her lips pressed into a thin line as her long slender finger pointed towards the border.

Summer

It was everywhere.

Sand that is.

There was sand in your clothes, shoes, hair and even your pretty wings you always kept hidden— but that didn’t matter because that sticky Summer Court breeze would somehow ensure you were absolutely covered in it.

Blinking away yet again another gust of sand in your eye, you sat slouched under the shade of a canopy. 

You were on shell duty today, meaning you had been out in that blistering sun all day. You’d always enjoyed the heat you thought, but perhaps now you realised you enjoyed it in much smaller doses. 

That beacon in the sky felt especially relentless today. Your skin was burning to the touch, head heavy, dry throat and eyes stinging.

With a huff you watched as Elodie came and slumped down beside you. She went to nudge you gently with her shoulder, but you both gagged as your skin stuck and peeled away from one another with sweat. 

“I heard the Day court borders are open…” she muttered, glancing towards you, anticipating your reaction.

You didn’t like giving up. Call it Spring stubbornness, but it wasn’t in your nature.

After a moment you murmured back, “Is there sand in Day?”. You swallowed hard, eyes set ahead on the expansive blue ocean before you, the line where the water met the sky blurring in a haze.

“Not nearly as much as Summer,” Elodie replied in a beat.

You didn’t like giving up. But clearly Summer didn’t agree with you either.

“Let’s go.”

Day

Perhaps it was your series of bad luck that had now left you with an attitude of indifference but as you crouched behind the freshly preened hedge you wondered how quickly your impeccable reputation had crumbled on your travels.

You were now about to commit a crime.

Perhaps crime was a bit dramatic. But trespassing was still trespassing. Trespassing on the High Lords home too.

You had been here over a month now. The Day Court wasn’t unpleasant—far from it. The libraries were vast, the streets safe, and the people, though indulgent, were kind. Yet something within you stirred restlessly, a quiet unease that had only grown with time. You had given it weeks, trying to settle in, hoping the feeling of displacement would fade. But it hadn’t. Every corner of this sunlit paradise felt like it belonged to someone else.

It didn’t feel like home.

So your papers were arranged. Tomorrow, you'd travel to Dawn, hoping to find something there that felt more like yours.

But before you left, there was one thing you had to see. One thing that had tugged at your curiosity since the moment you'd arrived: the Pegasuses. Said to be the pride of the Day Court, magnificent creatures kept under Helion’s personal protection, far from the eyes of the public.

That was why you were here now, slipping through the shadows of Helion’s estate, your heart racing in your chest. The Pegasuses weren’t just for show, or figments of stories; they were alive, breathing, and you wanted—no, needed—to see them yourself. Call it that fairy instinct, but you weren’t leaving till you saw them with your own eyes.

Your path led you through twisting gardens, till you found yourself at the heart of Helion’s estate. You crouched quietly behind the foliage, praying to the mother you’d catch a glimpse of what you’d been searching for.

Your breath caught in your throat. 

There they were. 

An entire herd of them, grazing peacefully. The sunlight gleaming on their coats. A shimmering silver that resembled the glow of your own wings. The sight of them took your breath away. They were even more magnificent than you’d imagined.

So magnificent that just looking wasn’t enough.

With a swift quietness and feather light steps you moved from your hiding place towards the herd. 

If Elodie could see you now, you’d be sure to be scolded. You’d left her with the cute librarian in the city, told her to enjoy her last day. That you still had papers to sort– she didn’t need to be an accomplice in what you were committing. She didn’t need to know.

The Pegasuses flicked their ears, one of them lifting their head to look at you. You froze for a moment, the hairs on your arms rising, anticipating their reaction but as it blew a breath there was an ease that settled over you.

They didn’t shy away, as if they’d always known you were there. As if they had been waiting for you to pluck up the courage to meet them.

Marvellous creatures.

One of them stepped towards you, meeting your hand as it grazed across the plain on its face. Your gaze ran down its back to its wings that stretched out and then flanked back in.

“Well aren’t you beautiful..” You sighed with a smile, your fingers scratching the sweet spot behind its ear, its hoof tapping against the earth as if in agreement.

You’re not sure how time had passed, but it was distant laughter that blew in on a breeze that reminded you just how precarious your situation was.

“Come Rhys, come see my pride and joy…” A voice chimed across the garden.

You didn’t need to stick around to guess whose voice that belonged to, so with a gentle kiss against the velvety nose of the Pegasus you bid your farewell. Quick as a sprite, you slipped back into the shadows.

Just as you reached the edge of the estate, you glanced back over your shoulder. Offering a sweet smile to the Pegasuses you had met, hoping that despite Day not feeling like home your paths would cross with the magnificent creatures again.

It was Azriel who stood by the golden archway in the garden. Watching as Helion presented the treasures he boasted so often about– the beautiful Pegasuses that were now grazing in front of them.

“I would like one..for Feyre,” Azriel heard Rhys try to negotiate with Helion, their voices blending over the soft breeze and rustles from the animals. That he hadn’t even noticed his gaze had fallen elsewhere, all the way to the border of the estate he noticed a rustle in the leaves, a flicker of light perhaps, but there was a faintest scent of something on the wind—a hint of honey and peonies. 

He paused, tilting his head as if attuned to something that beckoned him, though he couldn’t quite place it, but maybe with time he would.

Dawn

Imbuing the sky sounded easy. Fun even– But as you glanced up at the Dawn sky that resembled something more like dusk you swallowed hard. 

The golden hues of the Dawn Court greeted you with a warmth that felt almost too soft. Here, everything shimmered with the glow of early morning—pastel skies, the gentle rustling of trees in the breeze, and the constant hum of quiet tranquillity. It should have felt peaceful. It should have felt right.

But instead, it felt fragile. Like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto.

You had tried. When you first arrived, you thought maybe this would be the place. The Dawn Court was steeped in a quiet sort of magic—delicate, but powerful. It suited you in theory: a blend of intellect and beauty, the balance of light and creation. You had forced yourself to adapt, to fit into the patterns they laid before you, hoping this time, this Court, would finally feel like home.

But when tasked with the simple task of imbuing the sky, it had stirred something deeper, something darker, and the sky had responded.

You opened your eyes, gasping in horror as you watched the colours bleed across the horizon—not the pale blush of dawn, but the rich, burning tones of dusk. Deep oranges, purples, and indigos streaked across the sky like a wildfire, swallowing the soft morning light with every passing second.

The magic swirled around you like a storm, the sky thick with colour, draping over your skin like an ink-stained canvas. You tried to stop it, to pull it back, but it wouldn’t listen. The darker hues clung to you, soaking into your skin, wrapping around you like tendrils of shadow. 

From dawn to dusk and then to twilight.. 

It was beautiful in a way—if only it wasn’t so terribly wrong.

“Don’t.” You bit out through gritted teeth, stopping Elodie from saying anything. The deep purple hue of sky covered you. The shimmer iridescent resembled something of a paint, but it was almost too beautiful to even be compared to that.

You didn’t even wait for your Dawn mentors to scold you. Simply went to pack your things and leave. 

Lip quivering at another failed court, another failed attempt at finding home.

Night

The Night Court was the only place left. The last court you hadn’t yet tried, the last hope you had of finding where you truly belonged.

Which at this point you felt as though living amongst the thorns of Spring was a better option. You should never have left. Perhaps this was your punishment for abandoning your court, despite having no other option.

Your fingers tried to brush away the sky that was still infused to your skin, you looked ridiculous. As if you’d painted yourself in the night court's colours out of admiration. You were grateful the midnight hues concealed how embarrassed you looked.

The Night Court was a stark contrast to the sunlit lands you had just fled. Shadows danced among the trees, and a cool breeze whispered amongst the glistening stars.

It truly was beautiful.

But there was a looming weight with that realisation. Every court you'd experienced was beautiful– in its own unique way. So why would Night be any different? Why should you believe this would be the court where you truly belonged?

“Papers please,” A soft voice broke through, a female was reading through your documentation. Dorned in a dark robe, Illyarin soldiers flanking her sides.

She quirked a brow as she took in your appearance.

“It’s just sky…” Elodie butted in as if it was a normal occurrence– normal for one to be covered in the celestial shimmers of the sky. You swore you heard the High Fae mutter something under her breath, a small bite about meadow fairies that had the males beside her snicker. However after a quick assessment, she waved you both through. 

You had assumed this admission would feel like every other court, plain, dull, but the moment your feet stepped across the border there was a simmering in your chest. It was as if the Night Court itself was welcoming you, the ancient forest shifting its branches above to clear a path for the stars to twinkle down upon you. The gentle breeze carried the distant melodies of the city, wrapping around you like a soft embrace.

You dared to speak of what you were feeling, but one quick glance at your friend and you could see she felt it too. A twinkle sparkled in her eyes as she shared a smile with you, a silent exchange that spoke of hope and dreams. For the first time in what felt like ages, laughter bubbled between you, light and carefree. You clasped each other’s hands, giggling at the energy and magic you were feeling.

There was something about this place, something that felt so familiar–

So enamoured by your senses you hadn’t even been paying attention when you bumped into something solid.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you sputtered quickly, a breathless laugh escaping your lips before Elodie gasped, pulling you back into the crowd of newcomers.

“You just bumped into an Illyrian!” she whispered urgently, her wide eyes darting over her shoulder.

Your gaze followed, landing on the broad backs of two towering Illyrian males. One had long, dark hair, loosely tied back, his wings flexing slightly in the night breeze. The other, taller with shadows whispering around him, his presence somehow more commanding– more intriguing. Your eyes lingered on him the longest, an odd tug pulling at your chest.

“Oops…” you shrugged, voice bright with laughter as Elodie tugged you further into the crowd, your chuckles mingling with the hum of the night.

You hadn’t felt this carefree in so long, hadn’t felt this light. As the lights of Velaris approached and the noise of music filled your ears you had a feeling that perhaps this was all going to work out okay.

That perhaps you had found somewhere you belonged after all.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel felt the brush of something against his side and turned slightly, pulling him from his conversation with cassian. They had both been sent to do border control, and had watched an array of individuals enter the court. It was his job as Spymaster after all, whether it be from the shadows or to stand in example at the borders he would vet the newcomers.

The night had been slow, no disturbances, no conflicts– uneventful. Just how he liked it. Only people seeking a fresh start had crossed into Night. He took pride in knowing so many chose his home for that new beginning. He was listening to Cassian as he gushed something about Nesta, when a light nudge to his side had pulled him from conversation.

They stood in the centre of the track that ran from the forest to the city, the two males, a stoic divide, as people flowed around them like a river parting. Except one– you. 

You hadn’t moved around him.

Lightly, as though your thoughts had been tangled with the stars above, you had brushed against Azriel. His shadows hadn’t even warned him of your approach, and for a brief second, his breath caught at the softness of your touch. He turned, drawn to the quiet apology that lingered in the air, following the sound with his eyes.

And there you were.

You shimmered, wrapped in twilight, your skin glistening in the soft hues of the night sky as though the heavens themselves had adorned you. It was hard to distinguish where the night ended and you began, your form almost blending with the dark expanse around you.

But before he could speak, before he could even process what he was feeling, you disappeared into the crowd. A fleeting figure, gone in an instant, leaving him staring after you.

Azriel’s shadows hummed beside him, them too grappling with a need to know more.

He hadn’t caught your name, hadn’t had the chance to see your face clearly, but something about you had gripped him, held him in place. The faint scent of honey and peonies lingered in the air where you'd passed, stirring something deep within him.

Instead of words or answers, Azriel was left with a feeling—a pull. One he couldn't quite explain, but one he hoped to find an answer for.

a/n: Thank you for the wait...but here is the beginning of our favourite fairy and Azriel. I actually started writing this when I was visiting @writingcroissant in Edinburgh and we were sat in a little cafe till 10pm writing our little fics! It was so fun <3 (I'm still awaiting Crush...no pressure ;) ) I'm so glad it's finally finished. It was so hard to keep the stories this short, I feel like I could have easily explored more of fairy's travels in the courts (It wasn't all bad experiences I promise) lots of good memories too, so perhaps I will explore another time. But I hope you enjoyed the little connections to Azriel even though they still don't know each other yet tee hee

This is also dedicated to @searchingforbucky I'm pretty sure you said you were excited to read this/I said I would write something for you (If i have got it wrong, correct me) so here you are my lovely! Thank you for constant support.

Sorry to everyone that there isn't much Azriel and romance in this, Wings really has become a world of it's own at this point but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Please please please let me know what you want from these two next <3 - lottie xxx

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

Wings tags: @minaethrym

[bbydoll18xx]

Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own

When Paige falls apart, you are there to pick up the pieces.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Based on this request

Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Themes: fluff and comfort !

A/N: this request was so cute!! As an eldest daughter and a nurse, it's ingrained in me to be a caregiver, and I show my love through acts of service so this was so fun to write. Hope you lovelies enjoy!

~

Paige had always prided herself on being a tough girl. It was ingrained into her soul to be a leader, and even more so, it was ingrained into her to take care of everyone around her. So when you had started dating her, you immediately were treated to the princess treatment.

As an eldest daughter yourself, you had appreciated someone taking care of you for once, but you knew the effects of having too much on your plate. It was draining, and so you had vowed to help Paige hold up the weight of her world. 

You were always there. 

You baked her cookies when you knew she was having a rough day. You were always there to listen when she was feeling the pressure from the rest of the team. And your kisses were basically magic, bringing life back into the blonde.

~

You hum to yourself as you walk through the door of Paige’s apartment, unable to deny the bubbling giddiness in your chest at the thought of seeing your girlfriend. 

You had been dating for two years, and while the two of you had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, the overwhelming excitement of her had yet to fade. 

Slipping through the door, you creep through the apartment on light feet, trying to avoid foiling your surprise. Paige wasn’t expecting you, and with the craziness of the basketball season now in full swing and your own work and school schedule, you hadn’t seen her in several days. 

It fucking sucked, but that was life, and now you had cleverly hatched a plan to sneak into Paige’s room during her beloved afternoon nap time and surprise her with your presence. 

A sound cuts through the quiet apartment and a pang cuts through your chest. Paige was sobbing behind the closed door of her room. It shatters your heart, and you gasp, frozen in place for a second, trying to decide whether you should go comfort her or leave her be. 

Paige was a strong girl. She loved protecting her friends and teammates. And she was no doubt an exceptional leader. So when she had her moments of weakness and vulnerability, she hated others to see it. 

You were really the only exception. Your warmth and nurturing disposition coaxed her out of the protective shell she had used to shield herself from the coldness of the media and the unyielding bitterness of those who doubted her. 

Biting your lip, you quietly knock on the door, your voice gentle, as you call out to her. “Paige, baby? Can I come in?”

You hear her sniffle, quickly trying to clear the thick tearfulness out of her own voice.

“I need you,” is all she says. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, and the overwhelming need to just make everything better consumes you, and you pull open the door to quickly get to your girlfriend. 

Paige is laying in her bed, and you can clearly see the tear stains below her red-rimmed eyes, clouding the clear blueness of them. Your eyes flit to see Twitter open on her iPad, and you connect the dots. 

She had gotten sucked into the hate comments again, and it was getting to her. 

Anger and concern rushes through your veins, but you take a deep breath. Now was not the time to lose your own shit. You had a pretty girl in front of you who needed you to make her feel better. And that’s exactly what you were going to do. 

“Oh, baby. What happened?” You whisper, sitting on the bed next to her and soothingly stroking her cheek, brushing away the tears that remained. 

Paige sniffles, leaning into your touch, as if it provided all the comfort that she needed. “Had a bad practice. And then I saw a hate tweet. Just spiraled from there.” Her voice cracks, and the tears in her eyes pool again, threatening to overflow. 

With your free hand, you pull the iPad away from her, trying to make sure she can’t subject herself to the disgusting stream of vitriol spewing from it. You lay down next to her, pulling her into your chest, letting her melt into you. The tension seeps out of her, as she cuddles into your side, welcoming your presence. 

Stroking her hair, you whisper sweet words of encouragement and love into her ear, and it’s not long before her sniffles come to a grinding halt.

Paige lets out a quiet breath and sits up, facing you. She looks sheepish, as if she’s embarrassed by her emotions. 

“Sorry you had to see that,” she chuckles, trying to make a joke out of it. 

“Hey,” you say, bringing a hand to rest against the smooth skin of her face. “You don’t have to apologize for getting upset over something like that. I’m your girlfriend. I want to be able to make you feel better.” You poke her in the belly as you emphasize your point, and she grins. 

And while you were not the one who was necessarily hurting in those moments, seeing the person you loved most, break down in tears over people’s vile words, broke you, too.

But Paige’s smile was like sunshine on the grayest day. And things were going to be alright. 

Paige reaches out to entwine her fingers with yours, making a mental note of how perfectly they fit together. Her eyes move from your gentle fingers up to your eyes, seeing how bright they shined when looking back into hers. 

And when you later fall asleep, curled up in Paige’s comforting warmth, your girlfriend fights the sleep out of her own eyes, preferring to admire the innocence and goodness seeping out of your being. 

You were two girls born having to provide for everyone around you, who found a home in each other, taking on the weight together. 

Because sometimes you just can't make it on your own. 

And that's okay.

~

Woo this took forever and i kinda hate this but thank you for reading! My inbox is always open for more requests!

xoxo katy

[emsartwork]

Hey yall im not dead!

COSMIX!!! I've officially redesigned all the transformations in the Winx Club TV series hell yeah

Lore and Design notes below

So Cosmix is a rather defunct transformation in the modern era. It used to be used heavily in the age of space exploration but since teleportation and hyper speed ships became common place, the Magix dimension prefers to use those. Essentially, in order to set up a teleportation center, the caster/s need to have been to both the origin point and the target point. Witches and Mages were the primary people responsible for setting up the teleportation system, but in order to achieve the spells requirements, they would require help from a Cosmix fairy. The primary function of Cosmix is the ability to fly through space with out detrimental effects. Cosmix fairies can take 1, maybe 2, people with them while they fly in a shooting star esc trail function. Cosmix is not great for fighting unless the foe is darkness/light based. Defense is strong against cold, pressure, and friction, but not most other kinds of damage.

Cosmix is also theorized to be the Magix Dimension's version of the elementix. So like Sirenix is the transformation that grants access to the Infinite ocean, Cosmix is the one that would grant access to the Magix Dimension if fairies were in the other realms. Because humans already belong to the Magix Dimension, and the transformation isn't required to earn Nymphix, it isn't considered a true Elementix. Some fairies (mostly Solarians) do experience biological changes when using the transformation, seen here in Stella, but it's not super common. The hair takes on the magic color and drifts into nebulous star dust and galaxy clusters. Solarians are located closest to Lumenia, a tightly clustered star formation, and frequent attract Lumens due to Solaria's binary star system. They have formed fast friendships with the Lumens and many Solarians carry a Lumen's Blessing (it's similar to the elemental companions' bonds in the elementix) in their bloodline which contributes to the biological changes when using Cosmix.

I'm still hammering out how seaosn 8 works plot wise but I'll add it to my show changes masterlist eventually.

Design! The initial concept was "man i wanna draw some chunky ass boots" and i kinda ran with the cyber punk look from there. I was also adamant that Cosmix is a pants transformation, both out of practicality and spite because they made everyone so hyper feminine in season 8. I referenced the actual cosmix designs and their "space travel" oufits for the general shapes for these, but obviously there aren't a ton of similarities since I went in such a different direction haha. Also my first time drawing Aisha with twists! I almost gave her a fro cus it would mimic an astronaut's helmet (and lowkey a nod to Garnet from steven universe) but i like how the twists came out haha

Cosmix includes! Hair up and out of the way, a mesh base layer with light veins and stars, a body suit or shorts and top, a padded armor torso piece with some tubing ports, so many buckles and straps, a clear plastic portion(usually part of the torso peice, sleeves, or around the waist/hips), wrist/arm guards, and chunky chunky boots. The wings are also larger than most transformations (rivaling Butterflix/Faunix) and trail more of the fairy's magic color than usual. Simple geometric designs are standard.

[shoomlah]

how do you consistently draw the same character without it looking weird or off every different time?? also how do i coordinate faces, i always make the eyes too far apart or too big or too small or make the mouth too close to the nose or chin edge. If you have any advice I'd really appreciate it since it looks like you have your art shit figured out 🙏

Oh man SO so much of it is just practice, and you're not alone! I honestly think everyone struggles with a sort of "generification" of their characters' features the more they draw them, even seasoned professionals. There's a tendency to just sort of average everything out into an unrecognizable mush over time, and it takes a lot of conscious effort to push back against that.

Here are a couple tips and tricks that I've found to be helpful over the years:

Make turnarounds and model sheets. There's a reason animation/game studios do this, and it is because we are all still bad at drawing a consistent face. Despite being gainfully employed. What are we, graphic novelists?? We wish. Anyway it's a great way to familiarize yourself with your character's face from multiple angles, and it gives you a single source of truth to return to anytime you need a refresher:

Gather real-life reference. Anytime I'm designing a character I'm pulling together a ton of reference of actual people who look, to some degree, like the character in my head. It's always a collection of analogues, never just a single person, but it can be a great cheat sheet for understanding how your character might move, emote, etc:

Make a 3D model. I know it seems daunting, but with the advent of programs like Blender and Nomad Sculpt it's becoming remarkably more accessible. Heck, even James Gurney was sculpting maquettes out of clay for Dinotopia back in the day! It doesn't have to be particularly detailed—just a sort of proportionate lump will do—but it's another great way to have dynamic reference that you can rotate and light accordingly:

Practice, practice, practice. Make expression sheets for your character! Either right there on the spot, just start drawin' expressions, or you can slowly collect drawings of your character that you like, as you draw them, and compile them all in one place for your own reference. Need to draw your character's head from a weird angle? Maybe you've already drawn it before and you can copy your own homework! Doesn't count as stealing when the call's coming from inside the house 😎

I'd love to pretend there's a magical point where you can just immediately rotate your character's head in your brain like some sort of photorealistic apple in a twitter meme, but a lot of the time it's reference, hard work, and whole lotta repetition. 😐👍🏼

[bookwormjust]

Gifts for a new family (established relationship with Azriel)

As you walk through the lively streets of Velaris, the city sparkles with the magic of the approaching Solstice. Snow gently falls, dusting your dark curls as you move from stall to stall, gathering thoughtful gifts for each person you hold dear. The vibrant energy of the city surrounds you—laughter, chatter, and music drifting through the air—but you’re focused, determined to find the perfect gift for each individual.

The Archeron sisters, your dearest friends, are at the top of your list. For Nesta, something elegant but practical—a sword charm, small yet intricately carved, reminding her of strength and grace. For Elain, a collection of rare seeds wrapped in delicate ribbon, the kind that will bloom into the most beautiful flowers in the gardens she adores.

Then, there’s Lucien. The idea of him being alone during Solstice tugs at your heart, especially with Elain’s rejection lingering in the air. No one seems to have thought of buying him anything, but you do. After a few moments of wandering, your eyes fall on a beautifully bound book on rare herbs and healing remedies—a subtle but kind offering, something that speaks to his knowledge and appreciation of the natural world. You smile softly, hoping it will be a small comfort to him.

And for Azriel—your shadowsinger. Your heart flutters as you think of him, the way his shadows dance around him like they know you. You’ve spent hours pondering the perfect gift, wanting to show him how much you care, how much he means to you. You finally settle on something simple yet deeply personal—a custom-made leather sheath for Truth-Teller, engraved with symbols of protection and strength, paired with a small silver pendant representing hope, something light for him to carry, always close to his heart.

Azriel’s mother, though you’ve never met her, is also on your mind. After all, she’s an important part of him, and you want to honor that. In a small shop tucked away in a quieter corner of the city, you find a delicate silver bracelet adorned with small, shimmering crystals that catch the light just right. It’s a token of kindness and respect, a gesture to show you’re thinking of her even before your paths have crossed.

With your arms full of gifts, you make your way through the bustling streets, feeling the warmth of the season and the love you have for everyone in your heart.

As you continue through the vibrant streets of Velaris, you think about the gifts for Feyre, Rhysand, and Cassian, wanting each of them to feel the thought and care you’ve put into their Solstice presents.

For **Feyre**, you know how much she values art and expression, how it centers her and allows her to find peace in times of chaos. You eventually come across a beautiful set of high-quality paints from an artisan's stall. The pigments are vibrant, and there’s an array of colors Feyre could use to bring life to her next masterpiece. Alongside the paints, you pick up a small, hand-crafted sketchbook with a leather cover embossed with Velaris' iconic skyline, a symbol of home and her new beginnings.

For **Rhysand**, the High Lord of the Night Court and someone whose burdens are heavy, you want to offer him something that will remind him to find moments of rest and joy, despite his responsibilities. After wandering a bit longer, you find an elegant silver cuff with an intricate, celestial design that mirrors the night sky—the stars and moons delicately engraved into the metal. It's imbued with a subtle magic that encourages calm and relaxation when worn. A small but meaningful reminder that he, too, deserves peace.

And then, there’s **Cassian**. His boundless energy, laughter, and warrior spirit make you smile as you think of him. You search for something that speaks to his strength but also shows that you understand the heart beneath his brash exterior. After much deliberation, you find the perfect gift—a beautifully crafted pair of leather vambraces, sturdy but detailed with intricate patterns of wings and flame, symbolic of both his Illyrian heritage and the inner fire he carries. There’s also a bottle of rare Illyrian whiskey from one of his favorite distilleries, a little something extra to bring him joy on Solstice night.

With every gift now carefully chosen, you feel a warm sense of satisfaction. Each present carries a piece of you, a reflection of how much these people mean to you, and you can already imagine their reactions as they unwrap their gifts. The Solstice, after all, is about connection, love, and light—something you’re more than happy to share with those you call family.

As you stand on the bustling street, snowflakes dusting your shoulders and your arms full of carefully chosen gifts, the weight of the bags starts to pull at you. You smile softly, thinking how wonderful it would be to have Azriel here to help carry them—and to see him, of course. Through the bond, you can feel his steady, quiet presence, a warm pulse of calm beneath your skin.

You reach out gently, letting your thoughts drift toward him. *Azriel?* you send, a soft, playful nudge through the bond. *I may have gotten a bit carried away with the Solstice shopping...* You glance down at the many bags you're struggling to hold. *If you're not too busy, do you think you could come rescue me?*

For a moment, there's silence, then you feel a ripple of amusement from him, his presence wrapping around your mind like a comforting shadow.

*Rescue, hmm?* he responds, his voice a deep, smooth caress in your mind. *I’ll be there in a moment, love.*

A warmth floods your chest at his words. Within minutes, you catch sight of his familiar form gliding effortlessly through the crowd, his wings tucked close to avoid the bustling shoppers. As he approaches, his shadows swirling gently at his sides, his hazel eyes lock onto yours, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

Azriel takes in the sight of you, arms full of bags, and chuckles quietly. “Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says, his tone warm as he reaches for the bags, easily lifting them from your hands as if they weigh nothing. His fingers brush yours as he does, sending a shiver of warmth through you.

“Just a bit,” you reply, smiling up at him. “I didn’t realize how much I was carrying until I tried to walk back.”

Azriel shakes his head, his shadows whispering around you both as if they’re pleased to see you together. “Good thing I’m here, then,” he murmurs, his eyes softening as they linger on you. “Shall we?”

With his strong arm around you, you feel a sense of lightness, knowing that together you can face the chaotic streets and the busy holiday, each gift chosen with care and love for your new family. You walk side by side through Velaris, the snow falling softly around you, as Azriel quietly and effortlessly carries the weight that had become too much for you—just as he always does.

[warping-realities]

Animal I Have Become

Alright, I promised I wouldn’t write any more. But this one’s short and I cranked it out in less than two hours. The inspiration is obvious for anyone who’s a fan of "Karate Kid"/"Cobra Kai," since I just finished the first part of the last season. And for those worried about my studies, don’t sweat it—I was on my work shift, which I never use to study because it seems to attract all kinds of chaos. Anyway! If any quick ideas pop up, I’ll post them, but no more long stories packed with plots for a while.

I only agreed to go back to the place of my humiliation for one reason: Mikey was my best friend throughout high school until he decided, right in our senior year, to join the karate team of the new P.E. assistant teacher. Then, like magic, the skinny kid with a sharp sense of humor who could discuss everything from experimental physics to pre-Columbian American history, the guy I knew so well, was replaced by this arrogant musclehead who struggled with math and was totally incapable of having a history discussion that didn’t revolve around bragging about how today badass America was, and whose idea of a joke involved talking about tits or letting out a stinky fart. Apparently, it was a courtesy of the insane amounts of protein he started chugging to maintain his suddenly beefed-up physique. How the hell was it possible to gain that much muscle in such a short time? Maybe steroids, but the one time I asked about that, I ended up stuck under his stinky armpit. And what was up with that new nickname? “Snake!” How pretentious was that? But apparently, everyone in the group had a “badass nickname.” Ah, the joys of the standard American jock… Still, I tried to hold on to some of our friendship; God, did I try.

I even agreed to join a couple of those damn team practices, knowing damn well I didn’t have the physique, the skills, and maybe most importantly, the real desire to be there. I ended up getting ridiculed by everyone, including my so-called best friend.

I should’ve never talked to him again after that week of “practices.” But, being the idiot I am, all it took was a poorly worded apology full of grammatical mistakes that my brain refuses to recreate:

“Sorry, bro, the sensei got pissed at the guys when he heard their jokes about the size of your… well, you know. He wants you to meet us in the locker room today so we can apologize the right way. If you don’t show up, he’s gonna make us skip training for the whole week. Come on, please, for our friendship!”

… and there I was in that locker room. I should’ve left those morons without practice, but I decided to be the good samaritan.

Walking into that crap hole, what a surprise! It was empty. The pungent stench of sweat filled the room and humidity on the walls made it feel like the locker room was actually a beast whose musk drips off its body after a vigorous workout. But that didn’t matter; apparently, either the coach didn’t give a damn about what happened, which I should’ve figured, since he was just an older version of the ogre crew he trained, or he didn’t even know what went down, and I was about to be the victim of another lame prank.

Thinking about the danger, I quickly turned to leave. Then I noticed… on the other side of the room, hanging on one of the lockers… had that been there before? A piece of red fabric… oh, of course. A red gi from the team; they even gave themselves a pretentious name…. The fight practice was happening right at that moment. It was hard to think about it. I said so much crap about the team on TikTok and Instagram, tarnishing the reputation of the strong and disciplined image they worked so hard to create outside those walls that they probably hated my guts now. All those arrogant alpha dogs were arrogant and obnoxious. What the hell was I thinking trying to fit in? Nerdy little dudes like me didn’t really belong there. Even the jokes about my dick; if I were one of them, I’d just throw a punch or come back with some barbaric, macho comeback and everything would be cool. But I wasn’t like that, and my frustration with all of it was proof of that.

I never really liked the Gi. That red color always seemed way too aggressive, and for some reason, it always looked oversized on me, with sleeves and pants that were way too long and baggy. I had to wrap the belt around me twice just to keep it from falling off my skinny frame. Apparently, it never crossed the sensei’s mind that a little guy like me would have the audacity to try to join his team. Thinking about it, it wasn’t that I didn’t like the Gi; I hated it. It represented everything I despised about that bunch of trolls and also my lost friendship.

I stepped back and slowly turned my head back to the locker with the gi. Did it belong to someone? normally they were used by any of the team's bodies, one size fits all, or almost, when I was still there... anyway... after training they went straight to the laundry before returning for the next training session. Not that any washing would really get rid of the complete animalistic musk that infested their fabric. So why would someone leave it here?

Not my fucking problem. Probably just a spare or something. I think, walking resolutely toward the door, and I crack it open slightly. I turn back. I guess there’s no one using it. That means someone’s gonna grab it soon. Something’s bugging me. But what is it? I get closer, the musk intensifying. That gi definitely isn’t new and hasn’t been washed recently. And what’s this? There’s a note along with it. I sit on the nearby bench to read.

“Sorry, bro, today’s practice was super important, and the sensei didn’t want to wait for you. But he left your gi here. Put it on and come train; this time it’ll be different, I promise. Trust me, for old times’ sake.”

Old times? Maybe… maybe I should give it a shot. God, what a weird thought. Why would I want to do that? But while I’m thinking about it, my feet are already moving me to stand up and head toward the locker, while my hands are grabbing my shirt and pulling it up. I should stop. I need to stop. I should leave now, but the shirt comes off and goes over my head, landing on the floor. My pants are unbuttoned, and soon they join the shirt. I really should stop. Why do I want this? It’d be better to stop, but soon I’m in my boxers holding the gi in front of me. First, I put one leg in... then the other... then the arms, and then the belt… why is it black? I wonder, confused… but then that consuming need fades away.

I look at myself. As always, it doesn’t fit. I look like a kid wearing his dad’s suit at some event. I sit back down on the bench. Alright, that strange urgency is satisfied. So now I can just take this damn thing off!

But I don’t want to, for some strange reason. I feel more comfortable than ever. It’s like that mismatched uniform was made for me. My delicate hands wander over the ill-fitting outfit, the long sleeves sliding down my shoulders. I try to adjust them back into place, but they stop midway as I start to feel the material against my skin. The feeling of power it gives me… the feeling of strength… was it really this good when I was practicing? No, definitely not; if it was, I wouldn’t have quit. Man, this feels amazing... I feel the weight of the gi on me, both real and metaphorical… the weight of what it represents… my hands roam over its wide shape… it’s not just a uniform… it’s an armor… a sacred cloak… this is so cool… I can hear them in the training room… too bad I can’t join them... I wish I could... and they asked... didn’t they? I shift a bit on the bench and let my arms fall to my sides. Weird, I didn’t seem that far from the ground before. I feel cozy; the sweat smell doesn’t bother me, the whole atmosphere feels familiar, even comforting, like coming home after a long day and sitting in your favorite chair. I feel dizzy, like I’m about to fall asleep...

My rational mind, or what’s left of it, doesn’t notice. But unconsciously, I do… my muscles are slowly expanding, my skinny body pushing against the bench while my hands gently massage my slightly protruding belly that’s slowly flattening, the little bit of fat there seeming to be sucked in with every circle my hand makes. My shoulders are also widening, getting broader, as I grunt happily, a tingling sensation creeping up my body.

Feeling that, my eyes suddenly open, a jolt waking me up a bit from that stupor. What the hell was that? I look at my belly, and it’s widening as I’m hit with shock. I’m getting ripped! My hands trace the outline of my abs as the little muscle blocks there grow and harden, turning into six distinct shapes. As I stare at that in fascination, the stupor hits me harder.

The rigid stones of my abs aren’t the only things getting harder. My arms and legs are swelling with new muscle, keeping pace with my ever-growing body. And, well... I gently pat my groin. It’s definitely there too… a solid extra four inches, and still soft… As my body keeps expanding, the sensation turns pleasurable, like scratching an itch that’s been bugging you for ages, so I let it wash over me. My mouth opens in a gasp, drool spilling out as I pant like a dog. For some reason, it’s easier to breathe like this. Maybe because my nose is breaking and reforming a few times without me even noticing? As the drool runs down my pecs, I bring my hand to them and feel them grow, making my hands look tiny in comparison to the two meat packages they become. I shake my hand a bit, sending the drool flying, and with each shake, I see it grow too, turning into a massive paw, perfect for smashing some unsuspecting fool. Looking at that seems… really good… and I laugh. And out of nowhere, the other hand starts growing too, while my feet expand like crazy. My size eight shoes will never fit those paws; what size are they now? 14? Or maybe 15? A good kick with those surfboards and you’re down for the count… cool… hehehe...

No, not cool, not cool at all! This damn outfit is doing something to me! I stand up and grab the gi by the sleeves at my shoulders, ready to rip it off, and then…. I fall back onto the bench, my eyes unfocused again as a sudden wave of pleasure hits me like a tsunami. Yeah, a torrent of testosterone floods my body as my jawline becomes prominent, my chin broadens, and little tufts of freshly trimmed hair cover my chest and armpits. My mouth opens again, drool spilling out as my neck thickens, and my Adam’s apple sticks out, while my forehead becomes more pronounced, with low brows creating a scowl that makes it look like I’m always ready to fight, and my hair gets shaved on the sides, completing the look of a total douchebag. I try to care, I try to fight... fight... good… fights is good... no… not fight like this... I start to lift my arm, now powerful and making the gi look slightly tight… my biceps must be huge… hehhe… then it drops again… I look at my altered reflection in the mirror and see someone who could easily roll with Samue… Snake and the other guys… who knows, maybe now it’ll end… maybe I’ll finally break free from this stupor and get out of here… But then the real nightmare begins, as a web of powerful veins snakes through the swollen muscles of my body, a myriad of intrusive thoughts starts to slowly shape my mind, no matter how hard I try to resist. They break through my defenses with such force that my illusions shatter quickly as I start to forget. Memories of long hours of studying slowly morph into party after party with my friends, working out with them, training with them, watching my body swell and grow; time spent on pop culture becomes time spent watching football, hours and hours perfecting my college resume turns into hours and hours of sweat and sacrifice perfecting my fighting technique to the point of perfection. Just like my friends. Just like the sensei taught us to be. And we owe it all to sensei. Especially since he’s gonna figure out a way to get me into college, get all of us, in every corner of the country, ensuring that his teachings are passed on. Just one of us in any student group or, better yet, a fraternity, and boom, a new crew of brothers ready to spread the word… ha… word… funny… as if we needed to talk… no… our way is the way of the fist!

Shit, I can’t believe I slept through practice! Sensei is gonna rip me a new one! I shouldn’t have hooked up with those hot girls from college with Snake last night… dude, I couldn’t miss that hookup… I’ll just have to take the sensei’s punishment like a man… and I AM THE MAN!”

I stand up and groan, my voice deeper, with a bit of a growl. I turn toward the door, bracing for sensei’s yelling… Eh, screw him. He’ll put on his show about my tardiness, and I’ll play my part as the remorseful kid, and everything will be fine. It’s not like I skipped out or, God forbid, quit the team; I can’t even imagine the things he’d do to a damn deserter. I stretch a bit, admire myself in the mirror… Mad Dawg, you’re so swole… damn… you big, hot son of a bitch!

And then I finally walk toward the training room to join my brother’s in arms. Today’s practice is gonna be awesome; I can feel it, but honestly, it always is; I was born for this.

[whatifitookalilnap]

Headcanon Tenzin saw Korrasami happening in season three before everyone else because he grew up with a lesbian sister:

Tenzin, trying to be subtle: good morning, Korra. How are you on this lovely and magical day?

Korra, who woke up early: I feel like hell

Tenzin: perfect. Say, how are you and Asami doing? You’ve been getting rather, ehem, close these past few weeks

Korra, nodding: yeah, I guess we have. She’s the best honestly. The two of us just kind of click, you know?

Tenzin, nodding: I understand that feeling very well. I know I personally clicked with MY WIFE pretty quickly too

Korra: yeah that makes sense. Oh, I gotta head out. I need to practice how I’m gonna use my airbending to make Mako fear for his life so that Asami will laugh. Later Tenzin!

Tenzin: I love being an ally

[kamaluhkhan]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS

ENVY — part ii of we'll write sins not tragedies

pairing: luke castellan x nemesis!reader (she/her pronouns) word count: 1.6k summary: luke is getting tired of keeping your relationship a secret, you get a new sparring partner, and silena beauregard wins a bet. warnings/disclaimers: jealous!luke, suggestive but no smut, biting + some blood bc of course author's note: i had to include some friend group shenanigans and silena x clarisse moments ♡ i'm imagining that this takes place during tlt/season 1 of pjo when the kids are on their quest, and the characters are slightly aged up to 20/21 years old....anyways, enjoy and feel free to reblog + comment :)

♪ "i bet on losing dogs" by mitski

"rumor has it that lee wants to ask her out." 

silena tilts her head towards the other end of the ping pong table, where you sit next to lee fletcher, a pair of wired earbuds and an mp3 player shared between you as everyone waits for the senior counselor meeting to start. 

luke clears his throat. “why would he want to do that?”

in theory, it shouldn’t bother luke: how you and lee nod along to music only the two of you can hear, how your shoulder presses against his ever so slightly, how he seems to lean into you even further. 

you and lee had always been friendly, but since when did you become such close friends?

“hm. let’s see. she’s strong, gorgeous, the right amount of dangerous, and perfectly single.” 

again, luke pretends that he doesn’t feel something ignite in the pit of his stomach. 

as far as everyone is concerned, you and luke are friends, too. 

the rush you both got from the whole secret relationship thing was fun, but, gods, sometimes luke wanted nothing more than to show everyone you were his and he was yours. 

“sounds like you’re the one who wants to ask her out.”

silena rolls her eyes. “please. i’m a happily taken woman.” clarisse turns to them as if she knew she’s been referenced. silena blows her a kiss before adding: “can’t really say the same for y/n, can we? i think her and lee would make a cute couple.”

chiron finally enters the room before luke has a chance to respond. he sits through the whole meeting, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists. 

throughout the day, luke reminds himself that he’s the one you’re with. and silena’s theory that you and lee would make a good couple?

ridiculous. laughable. unimaginable. 

later, during swordfighting, you and lee practice together. any time luke is leading a session, you usually pair up with silena, but she seems to have twisted her ankle. not enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary, just a seat on the sidelines. 

luke has no doubt that she’s trying to work her daughter of aphrodite, matchmaker magic. 

between teaching the younger campers, luke glances at the two of you, yours swords colliding and limbs occasionally intersecting. luke demonstrates a new technique, eyes sliding over to you, positioning yourself behind lee and correcting his form by gently adjusting his hips. something bubbles in the pit of his stomach.

gods, if he could switch places with lee fletcher.

you square up for another round, but the fight is over relatively quickly. even with the advice you seemed to have given lee, you manage to get him on the ground, straddling his waist while you point your sword at his chin. you smile down at lee, canines sparkling in the afternoon sun. 

luke remembers what silena had said earlier, about you — the right amount of dangerous.

out the corner of his eye, luke can see silena gazing dreamily at the pair of you, no doubt overjoyed that a new romance seems to be blossoming. 

overjoyed is certainly not a word luke would use for himself now, as you lift your shirt to wipe the sweat from your brow. for a split second, your entire torso is visible to everyone. including lee, whose eyes seem to linger on the tattoo on your ribs for a little too long.  

luke tells the kids to pair up and practice before walking over to your side of the arena. 

“hey,” you exhale, dropping your shirt and smiling at him.

luke doesn’t waste any more time, though, and crashes his lips onto yours. 

he thinks you start to melt into the kiss, but then you bite down on his bottom lip — hard. 

“ow!” he turns away to spit out some blood. “why did you —”

“you just landed me two weeks of extra laundry!” 

“i…what?”

 if silena looked overjoyed before, she’s ecstatic now, practically skipping over to where you stood, her ankle miraculously healed. 

“aha! i win — again! that’ll teach you to question a daughter of aphrodite, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.”

luke, slightly lightheaded, has no clue what is happening. things don’t get any clearer as chris, clarisse, and beckdorf join you. 

chris shoves luke’s shoulder. “bro, you just cost me 30 drachmas!”

“seriously, dude,” beckendorf shakes his head. “you couldn’t have kept it in your pants for, like, a few more days?” 

“okay, but lena totally cheated,” clarisse huffs, stabbing her spear into the ground. 

“what! how?”

“you used lee to make him jealous!” the boy in question waves at you awkwardly before walking off to the archery range. 

“i did not cheat. i had a strategy, and just needed to add some drama to move things in my favor,” silena reasons. “besides, all’s fair in love and war. i’m sorry you had to find out this way, baby. ” 

she plants a kiss on clarisse’s cheek, which does make clarisse’s lips turn up ever so slightly, despite the accompanying eye roll.  

“okay, is someone going to tell me what’s going?”

you sigh and swipe your thumb over luke’s bottom lip, wiping away more crimson liquid that had emerged thanks to your bite. 

“i found out a few days ago that our lovely friends placed bets on when we were going to tell them about our relationship.”

“wait….” luke looks around at everyone. “you all knew? since when?”

“the whole time.” you grin sheepishly. “apparently, we weren’t as subtle as we thought we were.”

“you weren’t subtle at all,” beckendorf corrects, hands fiddling with some spare bolts he kept in his pocket. 

“love is difficult to hide,” silena defends, like you’re her favorite couple on a reality dating show. “the amount of times you’d both show up late to the dining pavilion together, with your clothes and hair messed up was enough to give you away. not to mention, the way you look at each other.” 

“yeah, like two idiots in love,” clarisse mockingly agrees with silena, who jabs her in the ribs playfully. clarisse gestures to her orange camp shirt. “by the way, these aren’t designed to hide hickeys. there are children here to think of.”

“be thankful you don’t have to hear them on the roof of the hermes cabin every night. it’s a wonder any of us get to sleep.”

"oh, and then there’s the showering at weird times and then smelling like the same body wash —” 

“moving on,” you interrupt, much to luke’s appreciation. “when i figured out what they had going on, i wanted a piece of the action.”

luke looks at you, teetering the line between frustration and awe. “so, instead of telling me about this bet and finally having everything out in the open, you got in on it and kept me in the dark, just to get someone else to do your laundry?”

“you know how much i hate laundry,” you shrug. “besides, like you wouldn’t do the same if you had been in my position.”

“well….” you raise an eyebrow. “yeah. i would,” luke admits. 

despite everything, luke is a son of hermes. he’s pretty sure that’s part of why you love him: for his mischievous grins and vices that were woven into his dna, imposed by the fates themselves. the urge to gamble, steal, sneak around, all the lying — everything you couldn’t help but indulge in, as well. clearly. 

you smile, and pull the front of his shirt towards you, kissing him like you’re proving a point. if luke wasn’t so preoccupied, he could have heard silena squealing in delight. 

“ow!” you groan as luke bites your lip.

luke smirks. “karma,” he teases, relishing in how you pout for him.

“get a room,” clarisse grumbles. 

“preferably not in the hermes cabin, please,” chris cringes, and this time luke is the one to shove his shoulder. 

it’s a little too silent in the arena, and luke realizes it’s because you’d all just given them quite a show. a few campers were watching eagerly, while others didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest, only taking advantage of the lack of supervision to goof off. luke tells the campers to keep practicing; you tell your friends to give you and luke some privacy. 

“40 drachmas that they’ll break up at the end of summer,” chris offers, and luke really wishes that he’d shut up. 

“nah, i think it’ll be sooner,” clarisse adds. “maybe right after the solstice.”

“i don’t know, guys. i have a good feeling about this one,” beckendorf says. “i think they’re gonna last.”

“thank you, charlie. i think they’re soulmates,” silena muses.

luke watches as the corners of your mouth turn up slightly, listening to your friends as they walk away. 

“so.” he hooks a finger through one of your belt loops to get your attention again. “everyone knows.”

“everyone knows.” you smile at him. “so, what do you think, tiger? are beck and lena right — that we’re gonna last?”

he can sense that there’s something more behind your teasing inflection. you’re gnawing on the inside of your lip, discreetly picking at your nail polish. 

even with the front you put up, sarcastic and cutthroat and sharp as your celestial bronze knife, you still had a heart. and here you were, looking at luke like he had already stolen it, and you didn’t care. 

you were just waiting to know if he would break it. 

but, luke doesn’t have the heart to tell you how this is going to end. 

how could he? he’d given up his to you, years ago.

he can keep pretending, for now, so he will. 

“i’d bet my life on it.”

[warning-heckboop]

@bunnieswithknives Did someone mention uhhhhhh Changeling Dev au?

A little bit of context on this au as I see it: Dev is a Gifted Changeling, meaning he did not replace an existing child and is Dale's one and only child, human or fae. Gifted Changelings are often given as part of a deal. I haven't exactly figured out the exact deal Dale made to get Dev yet, but I'm leaning towards it being something to do with making up for a Dale's own lost childhood due to being trapped by Vicky and yet never receiving a fairy of his own despite his suffering. A sort of "oops! we messed up, here's your compensation" gift child. You know. Standard.

The events of Season 1 of A New Wish are still canon and unchanged in this au. Dev would not show any signs of being anything other than human due to not yet reaching magical maturity, and he still receives (and loses) Peri as a god parent. Peri, along with his parents, have no idea about Dev's true identity. It's likely Jorgen does not know, either, as I imagine that a Gifted Changeling in modern times, when Changelings have long since been abandoned as a taboo practice, would be something very few fae know about, probably only the top of the top. As such, Dev still has his memory wiped by Jorgen after the Battle of Big Wand.

After the end of Season 1 is when the changes occur. While Changelings are not meant to start showing signs of their true nature until puberty in their teens, Dev, unfortunately, receives a bit of a jump start on his. Only 10, he still has not started magic puberty that would typically trigger the internal influx of magic necessary, but instead his transition was triggered by another large, external influx of magic, namely the restart of the Big Wand that he both caused and was present in Fairy World for.

The big issue is that Dev doesn't remember that, or anything about fairies at all anymore. So, needless to say, when all these bizarre and seemingly magical changes start occurring to him out of no where, he doesn't have a clue what's going on, and so he tries to hide it from everyone around him out of fear.

And that's about as far as I've gotten! Let me know if you have any comments/questions!

[woso-soso]

At Last

Alessia Russo x Reader

Summary: You hadn’t originally planned to be a college athlete. But you would never change the fact that you were, otherwise you would have never met Alessia Russo.

Word Count: 1,992

It had happened as a complete accident, your first week at UNC having been spent wandering around campus magically managing to stumble across the teams and club recruitment fair. The women's rowing team having spotted you like a hawk, approaching you before you even have a chance to approach them. Your short stature and small size being exactly what they needed. Sure you weren't the “ideal” build for a rower but you were for a coxswain, something UNC women's rowing team was in desperate need of after their former coxswain transferred. It was something you settled into easily, the comradery you found amongst the women nearly a foot taller than you was special. The way you would spend early morning workouts with them, well more so you sitting in the corner working on homework while they did dry workouts until you were needed on the boat. You would then spend hours on end, huddled into your tiny corner at the front of the boat, yelling direction after direction at them. Everyone following your instructions with ease. 

It was on one of the many team bonding nights you were dragged to that you met Alessia, the team had insisted on going to watch one of the women's soccer games bringing you along with them even though you had no idea what was going on. The game had gone relatively well for UNC, with them coming out on top 4-1. You had thought the team would head out as soon as the game was over due to the early morning practice scheduled the next day, but you were quickly proven wrong when some of your teammates dragged you down towards the pitch. Some of the more senior players clearly having friends on the team that you were unaware of. That was when you met her, the taller blond with blue eyes. Her smile twinkling under the field lights. She was younger like you, most likely in her first year as well if the awkwardness in her stance says anything. 

“Hi,” you wave towards her as you hover on the edge of your own group. A soft smile gracing your face as you take her in. 

“Hi,” she responds, the British accent taking you off guard, having grown comfortable around the more southern accents normally found at your school. 

“I’m Y/N,” holding your hand out for her to shake. 

“Alessia,” is all she says back, her hand taking yours firmly. 

That first meeting was the start of many small meetings, whether it was you going to her games, with the team or without. Or her managing to find her way to one of your meets, tolerating the very early cold mornings. These meet ups quickly turned to small dates at coffee shops near your dorms, or study dates in the library. She had become your best friend, only your best friend. You were sure to keep your growing crush underwraps not wanting to scare her away, her friendship more important to you than anything else. 

That was until the year 2019, the two of you were juniors and were at the top of your sports careers. You being named one of the best womens coxswains in college rowing, and Alessia having her best season yet with the Tarheels having come back from a broken leg the season prior. Everything was going well, you had kept your crush hidden and had managed to convince everyone else around you that you in fact did not have a crush on Alessia Russo, or at least you thought you had. Then the pandemic hit, Alessia and you were bunkered down in the small apartment you shared off campus waiting to see what was going to happen. But what you didn’t know is that Alessia had already made up her mind. She wasn’t staying, she was going back to England leaving you behind in the states. Sure she had no real obligation to you, you were nothing more than close friends. But the pain that radiated through you when she sat you down was something you will never forget. 

“I’m going home Y/N, I can’t stay here knowing I may not be able to get home if needed, not knowing if I will even have a season to play. I can go pro, I could start making money. I’m sorry.” Alessia's words run through your mind. Panic rushing through you at the thought of losing her, the panicked look in your eye instantly raising concern in Alessia. “Y/N are you okay? I’m sorry….” 

“I love you,” You blurt out. Slamming you hand over your mouth in shock at the words that flew from your mouth. Eyes wide as you rush to leave the living room, not daring to look back at Alessia not wanting to see the disgust that was sure to be present in her eyes. 

“Y/N, wait.” Alessia rushes out, grabbing your hand before you're able to make an escape. Her longer arms finally coming in handy for something other than getting stuff off the top shelf of your kitchen. Freezing in your place you refuse to look back at the taller blond. The fear settling in your stomach like a brick. “Y/N,” Alessia sighs, pulling gently on your arm trying to turn you around to face her. You comply hesitantly, staring down at your feet. “Y/N, I love you too.” Your eyes shoot up to look at her, a bright red blush spreading across your cheeks as her intensely blue eyes stare back at you. 

“You what?” You ask, mentally punching yourself for letting your inside thoughts come out. 

“I said I love you too, I have for a long time.” Her free hand coming up to gently brush your hair away from your face. “And I would very much like to kiss you right now, if you will let me.” 

All you can do is nod your head yes, words refusing to fully form in your mind. Without hesitation her much taller form leans down to kiss you, her pink lips soft against yours. Letting go of her hand you wrap your arms around her neck, pulling yourself up onto your tippy toes to give her neck a break. 

“Why did it take us so long to admit that?” You ask as you pull away, locking eyes with her.

“No idea, but I’m happy we finally did.” Alessia whispers, resting her forehead against yours. 

Admitting your feelings for one another didn’t change your dynamics too much, just add in more kissing and you were pretty set. But it did make the day Alessia left even harder. She had signed with Manchester United in the WSL and with the borders rapidly closing the clock was ticking on her ability to leave. So with a tearful goodbye she went on her way, your daily conversations going from soft whispers in bed to shotty reception and interrupted FaceTime calls. 

You continued on into your senior year, finishing out your degree pretty much solely online. You never get another full season before graduating, but you did get a call from USA Rowing inviting you into their Women’s eights camp. The only discipline in Olympic rowing that still used a cox’s. You knew your chances of ever landing that Olympic spot was slim but you had to try, and with the support from Alessia across the pond you had ventured into the unknown. Learning and growing from some of the best you could. That's when one of the more seasoned coxswains approached you, sharing about their experience in the United Kingdom working alongside the men's rowing team at the University of Manchester and how they conveniently needed someone for their women's program. You had shared that your partner lived in Manchester but you hadn’t expected them to remember let alone to try and help you find a way across the ocean. 

You kept that information close to you, not even sharing it with Alessia right away. Not wanting to get her hopes up. So when the talks with the program director became more and more serious, and the work visa process had started you finally cracked and shared with her. The look of joy across her face making a massive smile grow on your own. 

“Are you serious, here? Like soon?” Alessai asks as she tries to find a quiet corner in the Manchester United training facility. 

“Yeah, real soon. I should be heading your way in just a few weeks, my love.” You respond, the excitement present in your voice. 

“Oi who ya talkin to Russo,” You hear from the other end of the line, Alessia quickly dropping her phone into her lap. The footsteps of the interrupter coming closer by the second, a small struggle begins as the phone gets shaken back and forward before the face of Ella Toone appears in front of you. Her face lighting up at seeing you, “Lessie why are ya trying to hide your girl huh? Want to keep your rower all to yourself.” 

“Hi Ella,” You laugh out at your girlfriend's best friend. 

“Hi Y/N, just came to check in on your girl here. Training starts again in a minute you might want to head back to Lessie.” With a quick wave Ella is gone, the screen returning to an exhausted looking Alessia. 

“You heard the woman, you’ve got to get back. I love you, call later?” You ask. 

“Of course, I love you too.” Alessia says quickly a small grin spreading on her face as she hangs up the call. Only a few more weeks, then you would be cuddling in bed together again. 

The time between you telling Alessia to now felt like it drug on and flew by at the same time. Watching out the small plane window you slowly see Manchester come into view as the plane descends into the city. You had thankfully packed light, having shipped most of your stuff over in boxes seeing as you now were going to have to navigate Manchester alone, with Alessia hung up in training. What she hadn’t known was that with the help of Ella you had managed to snag a day pass to the Manchester United training facility with full plans to use it as soon as you arrived. 

By the time you had managed to clear customs you knew you were cutting it close to actually surprise Alessia. Quickly ordering an uber you made your way to the training grounds, getting dropped at the entrance you showed your badge to security. The weird looks they send you due to your luggage trailing behind you getting brushed off as you were buzzed in. You manage your way through the maze of hallways, slowly making your way closer to the training pitch, you could hear the girls yelling and screaming at one another as they scrimmaged, the otherwise empty training ground being perfect to amplify the noise. 

You step into the outdoor air, watching the girls scrimmage from the sideline not daring to interfere with the training they were engaged in. Or you had hoped to not interfere, but as soon as Alessia saw you she froze. The other girls turning towards you in confusion as she stared on, but all it took was for you to send a small wave her direction to break her trance. The taller girl running towards you at full speed, colliding with you with a force you hadn’t experienced from her before. 

“Oh my god you're here?” She says more as a question than a statement.

“I’m here my love, I'm here.” You whisper into her neck. 

“Oi, your girl is mighty short to be a rower,” you hear shouted towards the two of you. All you could do was roll your eyes as you laughed at their statement, more and more of the girls coming over to welcome you into the group.

[neptunes-sol-angel]

A reading dedicated to my days before I discovered my gifts and unexpectedly received out of the blue messages that I really need from psychics who usually kept their talents private. Personal readings will be opened soon. Thank you for your patience

Paid Readings | Botanica | Tip Jar

Pile One 🔮

You would be in an environment where you’re not as free as you want to be which could lead you to be stuck in your head either by overthinking and catastrophizing or dissociating as a way to find some space for yourself to calm down before you lose your cool. It also seems like the people around you may not help you feel any better. They could be very judgemental and see you as not worthy of compassion because you’re not smiling or feeding into their entertainment. They use your frustration as a way to presume that you have no future. The psychic amongst this negative crowd sees your frustration as a sign that your future is actually bigger than what anyone could ever imagine. Sight is very important, so they could mostly receive messages about you through clairvoyance. You could feel guarded with this person and maybe not give them the nicest look as a way to protect your pride and your heart, but this person is not going to be threatened by you or vilify you like everyone else. They could be older or “seasoned” with wisdom to know exactly what you’re going through and why you’re feeling the way that you do enough to know that more than anything you just need someone to sit with you and see you as not a person who doesn’t care but someone who’s genuinely lost and doesn’t know where to go in life. I feel that you remind them of what their past was, so out of instinct they would tell you directly what they’ve channeled instead of keeping it to themselves. Maybe this person isn’t open to using their gifts, especially if they are older and grew up around traditional religious beliefs, or they could simply have the mindset that it’s beneficial for people to not know their future. However, in your case, they’re pulled to go against the grain because they’re looking at a person who is convinced that they just won’t make it. What this psychic would tell you is that you’re actually going to make it farther than you would expect and reach a level of gratification that makes you proud of yourself and look back at moments like the one you’re having presently to be grateful that you didn’t give up. It could sound too good to be true, but what makes you a believer of what they’re saying to you, is how they mention specific details that are too intimate for them to know as a coincidence. They’d tell you that as you make your way to success, to not give too much of your energy towards who or what isn’t supporting you because your contingency to reach the top is dependent on your own will. You must support yourself and believe in your plans even if no one else can see it with you.

Pile Two 🔮

If a psychic unexpectedly saw you, they’d assume you’re one of them. They could have a talent with clairvoyance like pile one, by specifically being able to see other people’s auras. This psychic is comfortable with who they are and blends well with other occultic practices besides divination. They see you as a magician, someone who’s skilled to bend their reality. For some people, I see that they would label you as a glamor mystic based off of your appearance. Even if you aren’t a heavy practitioner, they detect that you’re someone who channels spirituality through other avenues. They see it in how you do makeup or enhance your looks a certain way, but can tell that you’re into passing on your magic by serving others. I get that this mainly has to do with cosmetics or aesthetics like hair styling, being an esthetician or a dentist, designing clothes, or being a tattoo artist. What this tells them is that you understand the power in helping others tap into their own beauty and how rewarding it could be towards their healing. However, they want to tell you that your life is not meant to be solely based on things that you have already mastered and that there’s a lesson that you’re not seeing at the moment. Just as there are different philosophies, forms of witchcraft, and options to physically reinvent yourself, it’s the same with healing. They would pick up on the way that you’ve been dealing with pain is very close to wearing off. The insight that would be given to them by the source starts with acknowledging the many ways that you are stunning that aren’t only based on your looks, and that trying to add more to what you can visually see cannot be the backbone for how you handle grief with rejection, endings, and betrayal. Your inner world needs to mirror how much you groom your outer world and you’ll realize how the root of your exhaustion that you don’t show to others comes from always needing a tool to get you through your feelings or a temporary escape from a situation that you need to be released from. The vision from this psychic that’s being passed onto you will make you understand why some things can’t be fixed by trying to make them pretty and buying or meeting someone new, because going through it to reach that state of no longer holding onto what’s been breaking you down is not exactly a glamorous sight, but that’s only because it’s a work in progress. Allow yourself the patience to see this new path of soul searching all the way enough to where you’re reaping the benefits and justice for yourself. Welcome in the new changes around you and what you feel doesn’t resonate with you anymore compared to this magic that you discover within yourself. Ironically, what you need currently to find relief, is to not always try to alter things because what’s shifting for you isn’t done paving its way for you to victory yet.

Pile Three 🔮

This psychic could actually be someone in your family, someone close to your family, or someone from a field related to education or social work. I’m also getting that this could be a neighbor that you initially weren’t comfortable with. Maybe this person doesn’t speak much or could have a facial expression that isn’t very welcoming or a stare that makes you feel like they’re invading your privacy as if they know something that you’d want other people to not know about. They have the energy of a black cat. People would want to stay away from them and advise you to do the same, especially if they’re a family member who’s a black sheep. There will be a day though where you can’t avoid interacting with them, and you’ll realize that this person isn’t actually a danger. What they’d channel for you are related to secrets. This person is a psychic that doesn’t see their gifts as something psychic. They see it as just discernment, instinct, or even just common sense. Or maybe they do see their gift as something out of the ordinary, but are humble enough to not get caught up with labels. A lot of you are young or significantly younger than this person, and the purpose of their insight is to mentor and elevate you into maturity. They could reveal the generational curses in your family that need to be broken or sense the ways that your past have left you vulnerable to possible dire mistakes because you didn’t have anyone to teach you about certain things. Something that is significant is that this person would most likely channel things about your love life, especially if you’re with someone at the moment. They could sense either your unhappiness or dissatisfaction with your partner or pick up infidelity that you’re not aware of. If you’re not in a relationship, then this person would channel wisdom about how you’re selling yourself short in love by investing in the wrong people. This psychic is meant to help empower you by teaching you about what it means to have autonomy and the authority you have to defend what’s yours and what you deserve. It’s likely you will encounter this person multiple times because there’s a lesson that you need on how to balance your masculine and feminine energy, healing from your childhood traumas, and learning how toxic habits in your lineage have contributed to the ways that you’re self-undoing that mostly have to do with how you tend to restrict yourself for others. It’s generally independence and learning how to be resilient in environments where you feel ostracized that is what you will take in from this person’s channeled guidance.

[badger-tales]

Notes//G.W x Reader

Request: would you please be able to write a George weasley x Hufflepuff!reader where he maybe injures her in quidditch or a prank gone wrong and he feels so bad about it and tries to make it up to her???

Word count: 2.2K

By some miracle—or perhaps sheer dumb luck—she had made it six years on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team without breaking a single bone. There had been plenty of close calls: a few bad sprains that kept her limping through Herbology, a fractured wrist after an unfortunate tumble off her broom, and enough bruises to make her look like she lost a fight with a rogue Hippogriff. But never a full break. Not until today. Not until *this* disaster of a match. 

Of course, it had to happen in the first game of the season: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. A game everyone looked forward to—and one she’d been quietly dreading since she was named captain. Things started going wrong right from the opening whistle, and before she knew it, the match devolved into complete chaos.

It was as if the fates had conspired against her. Her beaters, Pollard and Bennett, were useless, dropping their bats at a crucial moment—who even does that?—leaving her wide open to the bludgers. Her fellow chasers, Arellano and Swanson, somehow managed to track the wrong Gryffindor chaser for most of the match, practically escorting Katie Bell up and down the pitch while Angelina Johnson casually scored goal after goal.

And then, of course, there were the Weasley twins. *One* of them—she could never tell which—sent a bludger hurtling straight toward her hand with an almost artistic precision, as if aiming for maximum pain. In a flash, the bat-sized ball collided with her outstretched fingers, and the snap of bone was loud enough to drown out her own gasp. 

The whole disaster played out in less than two seconds, a symphony of unfortunate moments working in perfect, disastrous harmony. 

And just like that, she was grounded. Their substitute chaser was out sick with dragon pox, so they had no choice but to forfeit the match. Gryffindor celebrated their early-season win with a chorus of cheers, and she was left nursing her broken arm and bruised pride. 

She had only one word to describe the entire ordeal: *shitshow*. 

Madam Pomfrey mended her arm in less time than it took to explain what happened—two minutes of wand work, a flick of Skelegrow, and not a hint of sympathy. The real pain came afterward, though, in the form of a twenty-minute verbal lashing she unleashed on her teammates back in the locker room.

“We’ve been practicing this since *September*! Do you have any idea how hard it is to book the pitch for Tuesdays and Thursdays? How many hours I’ve spent drawing up these plays?” she snapped, pacing back and forth like a restless lioness. Her teammates sat slumped on the benches, still in their mud-streaked uniforms, looking anywhere but at her. 

“And for what? So you two”—she jabbed a finger toward Arellano and Swanson—“could follow *Bell* around like a couple of lost kneazles? Johnson had the bloody Quaffle!” 

Swanson muttered an apology, but she didn’t let up. 

“And you two!” she turned sharply to Pollard and Bennett. “I swear to Merlin, if you *ever* drop those bats again, I’ll *personally* find a way to glue them to your hands. I don’t care if it takes a Permanent Sticking Charm.”

Silence fell over the locker room like a heavy fog. 

“Get it together,” she warned, her voice low and dangerous. “Or I’ll recruit an entirely new team. The *only* person doing their job out there was Diggory.”

Without another word, she yanked her broom from the corner and stalked out of the locker room, the sound of her boots echoing in the empty corridor. Her arm still ached—Pomfrey’s magic was quick, but it never took the sting out entirely—and the throbbing pain matched the growing frustration simmering beneath her skin.

She hadn’t made it far when she heard it: 

“Hey, L/N! Wait up!” 

She stopped dead in her tracks, shoulders tensing. She knew that voice. And of course, because the universe *loved* testing her patience, George Weasley came jogging up beside her, looking annoyingly cheerful for someone who’d just shattered her hand.

“Not now, Weasley,” she said flatly, gripping her broom tighter. “I’m *really* not in the mood.”

He didn’t take the hint. “Are you mad at me for breaking your arm?” he asked, easily matching her brisk pace.

She let out a sigh through clenched teeth, her stomach growling irritably. All she wanted was food—something hot, greasy, and fast—followed by about ten hours of uninterrupted sleep. 

“No, I’m mad at my team for being a bunch of idiots. Even if I *was* mad at you, what difference would it make?” she shot back, quickening her pace toward the castle gates.

George only shrugged, grinning like he had all the time in the world. “I feel bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s Quidditch. I knew what I was signing up for.”

He wasn’t getting the message. No, he kept walking beside her, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his robes, as if they were out for a pleasant morning stroll. 

“Still,” he continued, “I know breaking a bone sucks. Let me make it up to you.”

Her patience snapped like her radius. She whirled around, nearly smacking him with the end of her broom. “Weasley. For the love of Merlin, *leave me alone*.”

It was rude, maybe a bit harsh, but at that point, she didn’t care. She just needed him to go away.

To her annoyance, George only grinned wider, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I get it. Message received.” 

Finally, he turned on his heel, heading back toward the pitch with that same easygoing swagger that made her want to hex him. 

She exhaled heavily. *Thank god.* 

---

By the next morning, she had buried herself in the safety of the Hufflepuff common room, avoiding human interaction like it was contagious. She needed space, time to stew—and more importantly, time to fix the mess her team had made. 

For two straight days, she holed herself up with her Quidditch playbook, scrawling new strategies until the margins were filled with ink stains and furious scribbles. When Monday morning rolled around, she dragged her team out of bed at 4 a.m. sharp, ignoring their groans and protests. They had practice—and she was *not* in the mood for excuses.

By the time the sun was up, the lot of them were caked in mud, panting and limping toward the showers. She could practically feel their glares burning holes in her back. 

Good. Let them be mad. She didn’t care. Early practice always put her in a good mood, and after the weekend she’d had, she needed it. 

Humming softly to herself, she made her way to Transfiguration, her hair still damp from the shower and her spirits lighter than they’d been in days. 

That is, until George Weasley slid into the seat beside her, grinning like a Kneazle with cream. 

---

“Mornin’, L/N,” George Weasley said with that infuriatingly cheerful grin as he leaned back in his chair, balancing precariously on two legs. His red hair was still ruffled from the wind, and a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes, like someone who'd already caused trouble before breakfast. 

She shot him a sidelong glare, her earlier good mood evaporating like steam rising off the dewy Quidditch pitch. 

“Go away, Weasley,” she muttered, already regretting not choosing a seat farther from him. 

Naturally, George chuckled. The same way he always did—soft, teasing, and just enough to set her teeth on edge. 

She had caught sight of the Gryffindor team trudging their way up to the pitch at six that morning, right as her Hufflepuff team was making their way back down toward the castle for breakfast. Her teammates had been dragging their feet, faces twisted with exhaustion, but she? She had practically floated all the way to the Great Hall, feeling fresh and ready for the day. There was nothing like an early win—especially when it came at the expense of her own team’s suffering. 

George gave her a sideways glance, like he knew exactly how smug she felt. “Productive morning, then?” he asked, still rocking dangerously on the back legs of his chair. 

She smirked. “It was.” 

“Ready for Ravenclaw next month?” he pressed, tapping his quill against the desk absentmindedly.

“Always,” she replied curtly, shifting her focus to her Transfiguration notes.  

George didn’t seem ready to drop the conversation, though. She could see it out of the corner of her eye—the way his mouth twitched, words forming on the tip of his tongue—but before he could say anything else, Professor McGonagall strode into the room, her sharp gaze silencing even the rowdiest students. The room fell into obedient quiet as she began explaining the logistics of the Epoximise spell, her wand drawing neat, glowing diagrams in the air. 

Y/N took the opportunity to immerse herself in the lecture, her quill scratching diligently across parchment. If she could just ignore George, maybe he’d get bored and leave her alone. 

But that was wishful thinking.  

“Oi, L/N,” he whispered, his voice low and insistent beside her.

She kept her eyes glued to the front of the room, ignoring him.

A soft poke landed on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, determined to outlast him.  

Then a piece of parchment slid across the desk, brushing against her hand. She glanced down, glaring at George through her eyelashes. He grinned, eyes bright with mischief, and gestured for her to open it. 

Curiosity got the better of her, and with a quiet sigh, she unfolded the note.  

*“I hope you know CPR, ‘cause you take my breath away.”*  

A laugh bubbled up inside her, but she pressed her lips together, forcing it down. She grabbed her quill, scribbling a response in quick, slanted handwriting. 

*“4/10. I’ve heard better.”*

She passed the note back with a smirk, enjoying the way George’s grin widened when he read her reply. He scratched the back of his head as if deep in thought, then leaned over his parchment again, scrawling something new.

When the note landed in front of her, she unfolded it with a sense of anticipation she knew she shouldn’t feel.  

*“I must’ve had some Felix Felicis, ‘cause I think I’m about to get lucky.”*  

This time, she couldn’t help it—a short, sharp laugh escaped her before she could clap a hand over her mouth. Several students turned to look at her, and even McGonagall paused mid-sentence to glance their way with a disapproving arch of her brow. 

Y/N’s cheeks flamed as she slouched lower in her seat, stifling the rest of her giggles. 

She leaned over her parchment and wrote back quickly. 

*“7/10. That one was pretty good.”*  

George gave a triumphant little chuckle as he read her reply, clearly pleased with himself. She could feel him watching her now, waiting—probably hoping—she’d glance up and meet his gaze. But she stubbornly kept her eyes on her parchment. If she looked at him now, she knew she'd be blushing in seconds. And the last thing she needed was for George Weasley to know how charming she found him.

The next note slid across the desk, folding neatly into her hand like a gift she hadn’t asked for but couldn’t refuse.  

*“Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.”*  

A grin spread across her face before she could stop it. Merlin, he was insufferable.  

*“10/10. Bold.”* 

She slipped the note back to him, her heart doing an annoying little flip when their fingers brushed for the briefest moment. 

Before George could dream up another ridiculous pick-up line, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. McGonagall’s voice cut through the air, dismissing the students with a crisp, “That will be all for today. Don’t forget to practice your spells before next lesson.” 

Y/N scrambled to shove her books and notes into her bag, suddenly realizing that George had managed to distract her so thoroughly she hadn’t written down anything about the Epoximise spell. *Brilliant. Now I’ve got no notes and new Quidditch plays to plan.* 

She slipped out of the classroom quickly, hoping to make her escape before George had the chance to follow. But, as always, he was one step ahead. 

She made it twenty minutes into her break before he found her again, sliding into the seat beside her at a table in the library like he belonged there. 

This time, she was the one to start the game, sliding a fresh piece of parchment across to him with a smirk. 

*“Did you get lost?”* 

George’s response came almost immediately. 

*“Only in your eyes.”*  

She groaned quietly, rolling her eyes as she scribbled back. 

*“1/10. Predictable and contrived.”*  

George huffed, his quill hovering over the parchment as if he was seriously contemplating his next move. He tapped the tip against the page a few times before finally writing a single word:  

*“Hogsmeade?”*  

Her heart stuttered. She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, waiting for her answer. For a moment, she just stared at the word on the parchment, her mind racing. 

Then, slowly, she wrote her response, her hand shaking just slightly.  

*“10/10, of course.”*  

She pushed the note back toward him, her cheeks warm as she dared to glance up at him for the first time.  

The grin on George’s face was absolutely dazzling—and it was all for her.

[astroeleanor]

💀⚔️🖤 Zodiac Placements with Necromantic Gifts (The Ability to Talk to the Dead)⚰️🕸️🦇

Hey everyone! Welcome to today’s post. I’ve been exploring some mystical concepts with my best friend (@witchyianuarius), and I can't wait to share with you insights about the Zodiac placements and how they might align with necromantic gifts/necromancy.

🎃 Also, HALLOWEEN ASTRO READINGS are available! Spooky season calls for spooky readings. Grab yours HERE. ๋࣭ ⭑🕸🦇

First of all, what is Necromancy?

Necromancy is a form of magic that involves communicating with the dead, typically to gain insight, predict the future, or harness the powers of the deceased. Historically, it has been associated with rituals to summon spirits or raise the dead in various cultural mythologies and magical traditions. While it often carries a darker, more occult connotation, necromancy in a broader sense refers to any practice involving the dead or death-related magic.

In some interpretations, necromancy also includes working with ancestral spirits for guidance, protection, or wisdom, and may not always be tied to negative or malevolent practices. The term itself comes from the Greek words nekros (meaning "dead body") and manteia (meaning "divination").

SCORPIO

Scorpio placements—Moon, Rising, and Pluto—are often associated with necromantic abilities because of their connection to death. These placements are tied to the power to navigate the boundary between life and death. With these placements, you may be naturally equipped to navigate these areas because you possess the tools to engage with this energy. You live in a psychological underworld where others fear to tread, and that’s exactly where necromantic abilities would thrive. These placements make you a natural conduit for what others consider mysterious or forbidden. It’s not a gift to be taken lightly, but it’s one that gives you the power to see beyond the surface.

SCORPIO MOON

The Moon governs your internal world, so when placed in Scorpio, it opens a window into the mysteries of life and death. Scorpio’s influence means you feel things others are afraid to acknowledge. You have a natural connection to what is hidden—whether it’s your own shadow, other people’s emotional undercurrents, and in this case, even the lingering energies of the deceased. Necromancy, the practice of communing with the dead, finds a symbolic home in this placement because you don’t fear death, it feels natural for you to explore these spaces, even if it's just on an intuitive level.

SCORPIO RISING

As a Scorpio Rising with Gemini in the 8th house, you may have a natural inclination toward transformation and exploring the unseen, including a deep interest in the ways you can communicate (Gemini) with energies beyond this realm (8H). With Scorpio Rising, you may also be drawn toward what others ignore or bury—often involving pain or unresolved issues from the past. This interest can extend to ancestral matters, which ties directly into necromancy: working with spirits and bringing the past into the present.

PLUTO IN SCORPIO

Pluto, as we all know, is the planet of death, rebirth, and transformation. In Scorpio, this energy is amplified to its highest potential. Pluto's placement here suggests a strong connection to the forces that govern life and death. You may feel a drive to control or understand these realms, even subconsciously. Pluto’s influence encourages you to embrace these energies, often leading to personal transformation through encounters with death or crises. This energy pulls you into the depths, demanding that you face death— metaphorically, through constant cycles of death and rebirth in your own life.

CANCER

Cancer placements, especially Moon and Rising, have a deep connection to necromantic abilities because of Cancer’s connection with the past and the unseen. Cancer is ruled by the Moon, which governs emotions, intuition, the subconscious–these qualities naturally align with necromantic practices, which involve communicating with the dead and understanding the subtle energies that linger beyond physical life. Your ability to feel what others ignore makes you a natural conduit for communicating with the dead, though it often manifests emotionally or through visions.

CANCER MOON

If you have a Cancer Moon, your emotional world is tied to memory and deep emotional currents. Cancer Moon is the most intuitive and emotionally sensitive of the lunar placements, making you highly attuned to what’s hidden beneath the surface—emotions, unspoken words, and energies from the past. Necromancy, at its core, deals with the dead, but it also involves retrieving what has been buried, either emotionally or spiritually. Your Cancer Moon allows you to feel these energies, often sensing unresolved issues from the past, whether they come from family, ancestry, or even the lingering presence of those who have passed on. This emotional receptivity makes it easier for you to connect with spirits or the dead because you can tap into these unseen emotional frequencies.

Additionally, the water element of Cancer, associated with intuition and the emotional body, plays a role here. Water signs are known for their psychic receptivity, and Cancer, in particular, has a lunar connection that heightens this. If you have a Cancer Moon, you may find that your dreams are filled with symbols or messages from the past, from deceased loved ones, or even from ancestors you’ve never met.

CANCER RISING

Having a Cancer Rising represents a deep pull toward the past. You’re drawn to ancestral roots  and the emotional imprints left by those who came before you. This inclination toward lineage places you in a natural position to engage with necromantic practices. You intuitively seek to heal or resolve what has been left unresolved.. So, as a Cancer Rising, you might carry the past with you and instinctively work to reconcile what lingers.

You might find yourself emotionally connected to old places, objects, or stories that carry the energy of those who have passed on–your natural empathy makes you a bridge between the living and the dead. You may even feel a pull to comfort or care for the spirits of those who still linger in some form.

8H PLACEMENTS

The 8th house is traditionally associated with death and the mysteries of the unseen, which gives it a strong connection to necromantic abilities. When planets like Mercury, Jupiter, and the Moon are in the 8H, they draw your attention to these themes and influence how you engage with the occult. Mercury gives you the intellectual curiosity to explore and communicate with the dead. Jupiter expands your understanding of death as part of a larger spiritual framework, and the Moon connects you emotionally and intuitively to the energies of those who have passed. 

8H MERCURY

With Mercury in the 8th house, your mind naturally gravitates toward the unknown and the taboo. Mercury governs communication and thought processes, and in the 8th house, it’s drawn to secrets and the unseen realms, including death and the afterlife. Necromancy, at its core involves communication with the dead, so your 8H Mercury can give you the ability to explore these areas intellectually and intuitively. You might even be fascinated by the idea of what happens after death, and you can sense unspoken or hidden energies, which is critical in necromantic practices. This placement allows you to connect mentally with the energies of those who have passed, whether through active rituals or simply an attunement to the energies that others might ignore.

8H JUPITER

Jupiter in the 8th house broadens your understanding of death and the occult. You’re likely to see death as part of a larger, interconnected cycle, or you may feel drawn to study ancient practices or spiritual systems that involve communication with the dead. If you do have necromantic abilities, Jupiter’s influence might also attract opportunities for you to learn or teach about these hidden aspects of life. Overall, I’ve noticed that 8H Jupiter makes for great occultists.

8H MOON

Moon in the 8H pulls you toward the emotional depths of transformation and death. You may sense the presence of the dead on a gut level or feel emotional/psychic echoes of those who have passed. 8H Moon can make you sensitive to the emotional residue left by others, whether it's spirits or the emotional energy tied to past events. You may also find yourself emotionally attuned to ancestral energies or feel that you’re carrying emotional patterns from those who have passed. This emotional sensitivity allows you to tap into the unseen energy that lingers after death.

PLUTO CONJUNCTIONS

Pluto conjunct the Moon and Mercury conjunct Pluto strongly indicate necromantic abilities because these planetary alignments connect deeply with themes of death and communication with the unseen. They allow you to engage with death on both emotional and intellectual levels. The Moon’s emotional depth and Pluto’s transformative energy make you sensitive to the unseen, while Mercury’s intellectual nature combined with Pluto’s power over death helps you articulate or understand the energies of those who have passed.

PLUTO CONJUNCT MOON

This conjunction creates an emotional connection to what others fear: the darker aspects of life, death, and what lies beyond. Having this placement opens up your emotional sensitivity to the energies of those who have passed, into the spaces where life and death blur. The Moon governs your subconscious and instincts, and with Pluto’s influence, those instincts naturally turn toward the mysteries of the underworld.

Pluto conjunct the Moon also amplifies your ability to engage with the concept of death on an intimate, personal level. This placement may bring experiences where you confront death directly, not just in a literal sense but emotionally and psychologically. It can lead to a heightened awareness of ancestral energies or unresolved emotions tied to those who have passed. This deep emotional connection to death is where necromantic abilities start to show themselves, therefore you may have the emotional depth to communicate with or feel the presence of those who are no longer living.

PLUTO CONJUNCT MERCURY

Mercury conjunct Pluto links your communication and thought processes directly to the occult. Your mind naturally gravitates toward the deeper, hidden aspects of life. You’re drawn to mysteries, secrets, and what others avoid discussing—death, in particular. You have the ability to mentally process and understand the unseen, perhaps even receiving messages from those who have passed or intuitively knowing things that others cannot explain.

This Mercury-Pluto conjunction also gives you the power to communicate beyond the physical. Your mind becomes a tool for navigating these hidden realms, making you capable of deciphering hidden messages or energies–and your communication abilities allow you to bridge the gap between the living and the dead, even if that happens more intuitively than explicitly.

NATAL MERCURY RETROGRADE

Mercury governs the transmission of information, while retrograde periods shift the flow of that energy inward, often causing disruptions or delays in the external world. However, these disruptions also open pathways to the past, hidden or unresolved matters, and to what lingers beneath the surface of our usual conscious awareness.

Mercury Retrograde can be seen as a window into necromantic abilities because it draws you into communication with the past—whether that involves unresolved emotions or even spirits. Think of how during a retrograde, Mercury’s usual forward motion is reversed, metaphorically pulling you backward in time. This reversal can make you more attuned to subtle energies, including those left behind by the dead. Mercury Retrograde also slows down communication, and this slowing effect can be useful in necromantic work. Communication with the dead, or with energies beyond the physical world, often requires patience, stillness, and the ability to listen deeply. The external confusion or delays during retrograde periods might be irritating in daily life, but they also create space for introspection and spiritual attunement. When you’re less focused on rapid, clear communication in the physical world, you have more energy to tune into subtle, often overlooked messages.

In archetypal terms, Mercury is the messenger, traditionally seen as the guide between worlds, including the underworld. When retrograde, Mercury’s usual role as a straightforward communicator shifts into a more "shadow-y" one, making it more likely to bring up messages from the unconscious and the dead.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Thank you for taking the time to read my post! Your curiosity & engagement mean the world to me. I hope you not only found it enjoyable but also enriching for your astrological knowledge. Your support & interest inspire me to continue sharing insights & information with you. I appreciate you immensely. • 🕸️ JOIN MY PATREON for exquisite & in-depth astrology content. You'll also receive a free mini reading upon joining. :)

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[allyjoe755]

Family Ties Pt. 1

Benedict Bridgerton x reader (no use of y/n)

request: from @caspianobsessed, "Can u please write about benedict and sharma sister reader , she comes to visit kate and meets ben for the first time. They meet one year later during reader's season and fall in love"

WC: 1541

a/n: This was so much fun to write. I have no idea what 19th century ghost possessed me to write the dialogue like I did but I'm not mad at it. There will be a part two! I hope you enjoy. And if you would like to be tagged in any future parts, please let me know.

warnings: none

o-o-o

Love was a challenging concept, because hearts— they were fickle things.

You had realized as much after your sister, Edwina’s, first social season… where she had been courted by Viscount Bridgerton only for your eldest sister, Kate, to ultimately become his wife.

But oh, were they in love. You could see it in their eyes on their wedding day— how they stared deeply at one another, as if no one else mattered in the world, as if their entire world, indeed, was standing right in front of them.

It was beautiful. Magnificent, truly.

You could only wish that something as magical as that might befall you one day.

You were a year younger than Edwina, and as such, a year out from your societal debut. You had not been present during the social gatherings or your sisters’ time spent at Aubrey Hall– due, in part, to you traveling with some extended family or other during that time. Besides names and vague descriptions granted to you through writing and on your return, you truly did not know any of the family your sister was marrying into.

And even then, you barely met any of them on the wedding day. A quick conversation introducing you to the now Dowager Viscountess Bridgerton, and a nodding of heads acknowledging a few of the girls– Francesca and Eloise?– but that was it.

Viscount Bridgerton you knew, of course, but any of the others? Perhaps on looks alone you could pick out the eight of them from a crowd, but you did not know who was who.

Maybe that was why your heart thrummed so violently in your chest as you exited the carriage and stood in front of Aubrey Hall. The unknown. Yes, you were visiting your sister, but you feared less a chance encounter with a pack of ravenous wolves than the family Bridgerton, for at least you knew what to expect with the former.

You were sure they were kind– or at least amiable, as you doubted your sister would tolerate much less join a family that was not at least one of those things. That one piece of hope allowed you to tamper your nerves enough that when you arrived at Aubrey Hall, you were able to wear a placid smile as the footman escorted you to the drawing room.

He had not even finished announcing your name when your sister stood from where she was and practically dashed over to you, enveloping you in a hug. You both laughed, and tears came to your eyes.

“My dear, sweet sister,” Kate said, her smile bright as your embrace ended. “How I have missed you.”

“I have missed you as well!” You exclaimed. “Viscountess Bridgerton.”

“Oh, none of that here.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Come. I should introduce you to everyone.”

She turned around and you now had a clearer image of the drawing room– or rather, who was in it. The Dowager Viscountess– you recognized her– stood and nodded her head to you. You nodded and curtsied in return.

One girl sat in a chair with a book in hand. She was one of the children you had met at the wedding… Eloise, you believed? Yet the others you were not sure you entirely recognized.

“At the piano is Francesca,” Kate began. “Please, do not stop playing on our account; my sister and I are both lovers of music,” she told the young woman. “Over there is Eloise, and of course you know the Dowager Viscountess… Anthony is away on some business at the moment, but should be joining us for our meal. And, of course, the duchess is not present, as she is in Hastings.

“And here,” she said, bringing you to a table toward the end of the room, “are Gregory, Benedict, Colin, and–”

“Hyacinth!” The young girl announced, standing to do a quick curtsy to you. “It is a delight to meet you; we’ve heard so many great things!”

You couldn’t help the smile that began to blossom on your face. What had you been worried for? Only a few minutes, and you could already tell they were a wonderful family. “I’m so very glad to hear it,” you returned. You looked down at the table. “What game are you all playing?”

“It is a very simple game,” Hyacinth grandly explained, “in which one seeks the highest scoring hand by trading their cards until the round is over."

You smiled. "Trade and Barter?"

"Colin says it is called Commerce in France," Hyacinth responded, "which I think is a far more clever name." She looked up at you, and you thought that if this was how all of the family was, you would like the Bridgertons very much indeed. 

"Would you care to join us?" Colin offered.

"If there is room for one more," you said.

"Of course there is room," he replied, and there was a momentary shuffling of chairs, a command for Gregory to grab another seat, and suddenly you were sat between the youngest at the table and the oldest as your sister went back to sit with her mother-in-law.

Assuming, of course, that Benedict was in fact the second oldest and Hyacinth the youngest, if their names and your common sense had anything to tell you.

Another thing your common sense told you: the Bridgertons were a beautiful family. You read Lady Whistledown, of course, and had heard of the Bridgerton good looks, but seeing them in person…

You were being ridiculous, you knew. This was your sister’s family– Kate’s family. You should not have been noticing anything besides their friendliness.

You definitely should not have been noticing how you thought Benedict the most handsome, with his chestnut hair and gleaming eyes and soft smile, or how butterflies flapped in your stomach when your seat was placed next to his, or how nice he smelled when you sat down.

It was Gregory's turn to deal. Once your cards were dealt, you picked them up, glanced at them, and held them close to your chest.

Benedict leaned toward you ever so slightly. “Be sure to keep a neutral look about you. The younger ones do have eyes like hawks about these things.”

You let out a laugh. “You must remember my sisters,” you replied. “Edwina and Kate and I have had a fair share of card games ourselves.”

And so it went like that, around the table taking turns, watching the other players in hopes that their faces would reveal their hands, with laughter echoing in the drawing room.

“How is it that we haven't met you before today?” Hyacinth asked as she scooped over the pool of coins to her personal stash.

“I was traveling with family,” you explained. “Although I was at the wedding; it was just a busy day and so we did not get to meet.

“Where did you travel to?” and “So you are not out in society yet?” were the next questions asked, by, to your surprise, Colin and Benedict respectively. They then both apologized in tandem, and you pressed your lips together to stifle a giggle.

“No, I am not out in society yet–” you answered Benedict first– “but my debut will be this next season. And we were just in the countryside, mostly, but I did think it a rather splendid trip. There were many libraries and parks where we stayed, which I thoroughly enjoyed.”

“You enjoy reading?” Benedict asked yet another question, and you would be lying if you didn’t say that you were giddy by it.

“I would say that I rather enjoy all the arts,” you said. “Reading, writing, music… I can play the pianoforte, but not nearly as well as your sister. Her mastery is a true gift.”

“And what about visual arts?” Colin asked. “Drawings and paintings and sculptures… are you a fan of those as well?”

You nodded. “Of course. I was told there were great art exhibits in London. My mother and I are planning on visiting some of them when we are there for my season.”

“Perhaps Benedict could join you!” Hyacinth exclaimed. “He is a lover of art. In fact, he is quite the artist himself. He was a student at the Royal Academy of Art.”

Benedict let out a rather awkward laugh, and you felt your face grow flush. Hyacinth did not know what she was proposing– but a debutante and a bachelor on an outing, during the social season?

It was preposterous, and suggestive, and almost romantic.

Yet you loved the idea of it.

“A student?” You said, hoping to ignore Hyacinth’s other comment and continue with the conversation. “You must have very nice work.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he quickly responded, and then cleared his throat. His eyes met yours for a fleeting moment before you both looked away.

“It might be time for our meal soon,” Colin announced, standing up from his seat and saving you and his brother from any more embarrassment. “Hyacinth?”

“Yes, brother?”

“We shall leave it up to Benedict and our guest to determine what they would like to do during the social season.” He began towards the door, opened it, and turned to address the rest of the group. “Shall we?”