#she'd work at a mechanic shop or something

[peapeapeapa]

Sevika💜💜

[ashwhowrites]

hi! Can I request older Eddie and student reader?

They met in coffee shop he's working in and since then they're dating.

One time he hears two student talking about reader (they said her name and ginger hair color) and one student's complaining how he flirt all the time with her but she doesn't even see it. All she talks is her boyfriend

And Eddie has been feeling insecure in this relationship because he thinks he's too old for her and she can do better than him but he's not jealous. He knows she would never cheat on him.

But hearing this conversation he became so self confident and appreciated and when she visited him after closing coffee shop, he literally can't stop himself from showing her his love. They have the most passionate sex in the back of the coffee shop. His main mission became making her feel so good so she can't think about anything else than him

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 I didn't include the specific hair color since I never go into specifics with how the reader looks so it's open to everyone.

⚠️SMUT, I wrote it high so I'm not even sure what I wrote

College boys

Y/N felt like she was on cloud nine. She was near graduation, ready to be handed her degree. She had a small waitressing job to make quick money, and she had the perfect boyfriend.

She met him at the coffee shop he worked at. He was older, roughly in his thirties. He worked at the coffee shop for extra money, his main career being in mechanics. His rough hands traced delicate shapes on her skin. His mature eyes captured her perfectly in every moment.

She felt like she could remember every detail no matter how much time passed.

~

She walked into the shop, a laptop in her arm as she searched the menu. It was a new coffee place and she wasn't sure what to get. She felt nervous as she realized she was next and had no idea what to get.

"What can I get you?"

She opened her mouth to speak and looked down. She was at a loss for words as she looked into the most beautiful brown eyes she'd ever seen. He was gorgeous.

He had dark curly brown hair, thrown into a low bun. A t-shirt underneath his apron that made his arms look defined. She read his name tag, Eddie. She tasted the name on her tongue as she stared at him like he was God himself.

"I uh, I don't even know." she laughed, looking back up at the menu

"Hot or cold, girl?" Eddie asked, a twinkle in his eyes as he smiled.

"Cold," she answered

"I'll surprise you," he said as he punched in something on the register.

She smiled and walked off to the pickup counter. She couldn't help but sneak a look at him as he moved around and made the drink. She felt her cheeks heat up when he caught her. He'd smile to the floor and look back to the drink.

"Here you are," he smiled as he placed the drink on the counter. She thanked him and grabbed the drink. She walked out and got in her car.

She went to take a sip when she noticed ink on the cup

She smiled as she read his handwriting with his number below it.

~

And ever since then, they've been together. She called him and they went on a date. They instantly connected and the attraction was strong. The age difference didn't bother either of them. She was mature and so was he. She enjoyed their dates at his apartment. She loved it when she got to spend the night with him instead of her small dorm.

Eddie wishes he felt their relationship was as strong as she did. He couldn't help but feel like he needed to always prove himself. He felt insecure compared to all the guys he saw on her campus. Their muscular bodies as they threw footballs and ran on the fields. He met a few of her guy friends and felt intimated by a few. It was easy to tell they were interested in her. But he knew she'd never go for them or hurt Eddie in any type of way. He didn't trust the boys. No one ever trusts young guys, especially college boys.

~~~

"Thank you for dropping me off," Y/N said, she leaned over her seat and pressed her lips against Eddie's lips.

He smiled into the kiss and kissed her back. He couldn't help but deepen the kiss and move his tongue against hers. She felt her head spinning as he pulled away.

"My pleasure," he teased, loving the lost look on her face as she floated down to reality. "Better go, Lexi is waiting."

"Right!" Y/N said as she snapped out of her daydream. The taste of Eddie was still on her tongue as she got out of the car. She waved goodbye as she walked over to Lexi. Eddie drove off with a honk.

"I wish I had an older boyfriend to eat my face off in the parking lot," Lexi groaned, with a teasing smile.

"He's the best isn't he?" Y/N gushed

"He's yummy," Lexi giggled

"Who is?" Tommy asked as he slid in next to Y/N. The three walked into the building.

"Eddie," Y/N said. Tommy was a good friend of hers so he knew all about Eddie.

"Oh cool, Well tonight is the big game. Can I count on you to be my cheerleader?" Tommy flirted. Lexi rolled her eyes at his comment but didn't say anything.

"Of course. Eddie and I will be front row." Y/N smiled

Tommy felt his smile drop at the sound of Eddie's name once again. But he shook it off.

"Are you coming to the after-party? We are pretty sure we are going to win." Tommy said, "But it's just for the students."

"I'm not sure, parties aren't really my thing. And not sure if I'll feel comfortable going alone without Eds" Y/N shrugged, plus she wanted to spend the night with Eddie.

"I'll take care of you, and be next to you the whole time." Tommy offered.

"But then you can't enjoy the party," Y/N said confused, the three made it into class

"You are all I need to have a good time," Tommy smiled.

"I'll think about it." Y/N smiled, they repeated as they took their seats.

Tommy sat next to his friend Luke with a smirk

"I'd wipe that smirk off. No way she's coming." Luke laughed

"Why not?" Tommy asked, his smirk dropping

"It's only students. And no way she's gonna ditch her boyfriend for you."

"We'll see,"

~~~

Eddie leaned against the fence as he waited for Y/N. He looked at the group of students and the players on the field. He wasn't big on football but he'd go anywhere she asked him to.

"...Y/N's here."

Eddie's ears perked at the sound of his girlfriend's name. He looked on the field, where the sound came from.

He noticed Tommy with his helmet in his hands as he stood in his jersey. He rolled his eyes, he wasn't surprised he was focused on his girlfriend. Tommy was the main guy Eddie worried about.

"Here, babe," Y/N said as she handed Eddie his pretzel. Her other hand holding a drink. Eddie looked back at her with a smile, he could feel Tommy's eyes burning into them.

Feeling a bit jealous, Eddie threw his arm over her shoulder and walked to their seats on the bleachers.

~

Throughout the whole game, Tommy's eyes kept looking at her.

After he scored a touchdown, he winked right at her as she cheered. Granted, she's cheering for a friend but he thinks she's cheering as a crush. Eddie was older and wasn't going to dabble in games. But he wanted to snap that bitch in half.

"You seem tense. You okay?" Y/N asked, her hand landed on Eddie's knee. The game in the background as she focused on him.

Eddie smiled and nodded. He felt at ease whenever she looked at him. The crowd cheered and they both looked to see what they missed.

Tommy growled as she missed his touchdown, too locked on Eddie.

~~~

Eddie was closing the Cafe, sweeping underneath the tables as he waited for the remaining customers to leave.

He whistled a song as he walked and swept. He almost felt like he was crazy when he heard his girlfriend's name. He stopped whistling and looked up. But he didn't recognize any of them.

Must be from school?

"dude, you can't ask Y/N out. Tommy has tried a thousand times."

Eddie felt a twisting in his gut as he walked closer.

"Yeah, but that's Tommy. I'm better than him in every way possible." The random blonde said. Which made Eddie want to laugh. Y/N was obsessed with Eddie's dark curls.

"Being better than Tommy isn't what you have to worry about." The other boy snickered.

"What that old boyfriend of hers? One night with me between those legs, she'd have him out of her head."

Eddie's growl slipped and the boys looked at him. "We're closed. Time to go." He snapped.

"Chill dude. We'll go." The blonde said, the boys slipped out of the small booth and walked out the door.

Eddie felt anger pumping through his veins. Eddie looked up when the door jingled. His anger turned to lust as Y/N walked in.

Her long legs were in her shorts, the way she looked flawless in his band T-shirt. Sunglasses pulling back her hair as she smiled at him.

"Missed you, handsome." She said as she slid her arms around his neck. He dropped the broom and immediately shoved his lips on hers.

She was taken aback by the passion and desperation in his kiss. It turned her knees weak. She whimpered against his lips as he pushed his lips so hard into hers that her back was forced to arch.

His tongue was gentle and warm in her mouth. She felt like he wanted to be gentle but craved to tear her apart with his tongue and teeth. He was mature and practiced in the way he knew how to handle her body. His muscular arms held the weight of her body and his kiss held the weight of her heart.

"Fuck, wow," she gasped as Eddie pulled away.

"Remember that office in the back I showed you?" Eddie panted.

Y/N was lost for words as she panted, and nodded.

"I want you to strip down, nice and naked for me," his hand wrapped around her neck, "then sit on that desk, spread these legs open, and drip all down the desk until I come in there. Got it?"

Y/N shivered at his words as the image was painted in her head. She whimpered and nodded. He let go of her neck, his dark eyes watching her. She started to walk off, jumping as he landed a smack on her ass.

~

Eddie waited a few seconds, just to give her time to follow his demands.

Eddie slowly walked to the office, stripping down. He removed his apron, then his shirt, and his shoes. By the time he made it to the room, he was left in nothing but his boxers.

A big smirk on his face as she sat on the desk, her legs spread wide open, and her glistening pussy shined for his eyes. He could feel his cock suffocating in his boxers as he licked his lips. He walked towards her, and she shook as his eyes never moved from her cunt.

"Gonna cum just from the way you are looking at me." She moaned, Eddie chucked darkly as her cunt clenched.

"Oh, I bet. See you pulsing from here, pretty thing." He smirked. She wasn't sure what got into him but she wasn't going to distract him now.

"Gonna be a good girl and let me do whatever I want with you?" He asked, he yanked her hair so her chin was shot into the air.

"Fuck yes."

"Try again" he warned

"Yes, sir. Best girl for you." She moaned. Apparently, she said the right thing because Eddie sunk his three fingers inside her soaked cunt. Her walls instantly clamped around his long fingers as she shook.

Everything felt like it was buzzing. His hand yanks her hair and his fingers knuckle deep inside of her. She clawed at his bare chest as she was gasping for air. He loved watching her. The way her naked body shook, the sweat building on her sweet skin. How she bit so hard on her lip that blood began to leak, yet did nothing to stop the screams from leaving her lips.

"Loud girl today, huh?" He teased

He stared at her neck as a trail of sweat traveled down. His cock twitched at the idea in his head, and he leaned forward. His eyes stared straight into her heavy ones as he stuck out his tongue and licked up the traveling sweat.

She swore he was going to ruin her

She clamped around him as she felt herself getting close. The ecstasy burned in her stomach. He removed his hand from her hair, now moving his attention to her clit.

She let her body drop, going slump against his. He let his body catch hers as he circled her clit as fast as he could.

She tried to speak but couldn't get anything out. Her eyes asked and he answered. She let herself cum all over his fingers. He worked her through it, fingering her softly as she began to shake.

"Amazing job, sweet girl." He praised. She smiled at the compliment. Still barely awake as she panted.

"You take my breath away, Jesus fuck." She laughed, Eddie held her tired body and kissed her forehead.

"I know I pulled a big one out of you, think you can give me one more? Maybe on my tongue?" He asked. And how could she say no to that?

She didn't say anything, just pushed his head down. He laughed but easily let himself be pushed down to his knees. He wrapped his arms around her until his fingers were gripping into her ass.

She let out a gasp as he yanked her to the edge of the desk, his mouth immediately on her cunt.

She felt her jaw pop open and silent screams left her throat as Eddie slurped her up like a dog with a bowl.

She was embarrassed by how much sound came from her wetness.

But the sound seemed to edge Eddie more and more.

She felt his tongue everywhere. Inside of her, up and down, side to side. Then outside of her, sucking and biting.

She swore she could feel him writing his name with his tongue against her clit.

That same feeling was building and building until... He stopped.

She didn't have time to whine when he slammed his cock inside of her. It was so fast that she didn't see him take his boxers off.

He pounded into her like he wanted to bruise the shape of him inside of her.

He wasn't jealous, just simply making sure her brain was so fucked out that she couldn't form a possible thought that wasn't him.

The desk squeaked beneath them as he fucked himself inside of her. He was so lost inside of her, that he didn't bother to care about the cameras recording their every move. Hell, he wanted a tape of it just so he could send it to all those college boys who think they have a shot.

Eddie may not have a college degree or scholarship in football. But he owned her pussy and knew just how to fuck it.

She swore she had nothing left in her body to give him, but she wanted to give him it all. He felt amazing inside of her. The way his tip perfectly hit that sweet spot inside of her made her legs shake.

His fingers were back on her clit, she whimpered as he rolled her sensitive clit between his finger and thumb. Then whined louder when he pinched it, pushing down on her clit and pulling. His eyes watched as it snapped back into its perfect shape. Then he softly began to rub circles.

She lost her vision, eyes closed as her body felt everything. She never forgot the way Eddie fucked her, but this was definitely something she'd think about in her dorm. When she's alone at night and fucking herself. Moaning his name as she coated her toys in her sticky cum.

The harder she breathed, the faster Eddie rubbed her clit. His cock pushed inside of her, her pussy happily sucking him in. She was jealous of anyone he practiced with over his years, but she was damn pleased with the results.

She clawed at his chest again and he knew what it meant. He slid his left hand into hers, lacing their fingers intertwined. Then his right hand slid up her jaw, cupping it as he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers.

They kissed passionately. The feeling of love somehow gained a taste as they passed it back and forth.

She came all over him as he filled her.

"I love you," she whined as she pulled back. That was exactly what Eddie needed to hear.

"I love you," he smiled, softly kissing her lips again as he slowly slid out of her. Their hands were still laced together.

"What was all that?" She asked, a glimmer in her eye.

"Just wanted to show I loved you," Eddie shrugged

"Goal achieved," she winked.

He chuckled and kissed her softly.

He had nothing to worry about, she was locked in on him and that's all he wanted.

~~~

"Thank you for dropping me off," she said as she leaned over and kissed Eddie's lips.

He kissed her back, making sure to nibble a little on her bottom lip.

She shook, still sensitive from the night before.

"Always my pleasure," Eddie smirked.

He watched as she got out of the car. Lexi waited for her as she waved to Eddie.

Y/N took a deep breath and began to walk to her, noticeably limping.

Eddie felt the smirk get bigger on his face

Lexi gasped as she looked between the embarrassed look on Y/N's face and the cocky look on Eddie's.

"Don't say a thing," Y/N warned as she made it to Lexi.

"About what?" Tommy asked as he walked up.

Eddie's prayers were answered when the blonde kid showed up as well. Eddie watched from his car in amusement, no rush to pull away.

"Y/N totally got laid last night. Poor girl can't even walk." Lexi bragged for her, and an impressed look sent Eddie's way.

Eddie enjoyed the way Tommy and the random kid grew annoyed.

Y/N covered her face in her hands embarrassed. The boys looked behind her to Eddie's car.

He smirked as he lifted his hand and flipped them off.

Eddie's girl doesn't fuck around with college boys

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Buttons

The request from @toomanytookas: I have such fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to sew on her old Singer. Obviously a WILDLY different context for a million different reasons, but I love the idea of of Pin showing Joel how to sew or just explaining the general mechanics of using the machine. Maybe some physical guidance/touching a la the pottery scene in Ghost?

If you'd prefer to play with other characters, it would be sweet to see her teach Ellie now that she's working at the shop and I imagine she'd be curious about it!

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 900 words | warnings: rated M for dirty thoughts and slightly dirty talk, outrageous flirting, topless Joel Miller | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

‘Nice tits, Miller!’

Joel chokes on his corn chowder as Tommy’s voice rings loud and obnoxious in the half-empty cafeteria, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he makes himself comfortable opposite him, tray hitting the table with a clatter.

‘Seriously though, put them away before Maria sees you. This is a family place, y’know.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up, jackass.’

Tommy studies the familiar green plaid shirt on his brother that is sitting open to the sternum. ‘Buttons fell off, huh?’

‘Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Pin gettin’ a bit rough with ya?’

Joel splutters, raising his fork in what he hopes is a menacing reproach. ‘Hey!’

‘Just jokin’, big bro. And no judgement if she is.’

He scoffs. ‘This is gettin’ real weird, Tommy -’

‘Why don’t you ask her to sew ’em back for you?’

‘She ain’t my seamstress.’

‘She’s a seamstress. And your girlfriend.’

Joel snorts. ‘You ask Maria to do all your chores for you?’

Tommy shrugs and replies around a mouthful of mashed potato. ‘Ask Pin to teach you then. What's that they say about fishermen and fishin’?’

He has a point, Joel has to concede. That’s how he ends up at your studio that afternoon, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you on the sewing machine. He likes the steady, mechanical staccato of the needle, the whirring wheel and the metallic squeak of the pedal as your hands and feet all move in almost nonchalant choreography.

He knows that under that ease lies years of experience, and there’s an understatedness about your movements that makes him stop and stare every time you're at the antique sewing machine. 

He waits patiently for a lull, not wanting to disrupt your rhythm. When you pause to inspect the stitching you’ve been working on, Joel knocks on the doorframe. 

His lips twitch when you startle, eyes wide as your head whips around at him, and it brings him right back to the day you meet, just a few feet from where he stands now.

But then you break into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing sneaking up on me, Joel Miller?’

He closes the distance with three steps, bending down to drop a kiss on your lips. ‘Just wanted to say hello - and to ask for a favour.’

You stare up at him, admiring the way a stray lock curls over his eyes. ‘What is it?’

Joel tugs on the front of his shirt. ‘Was wonderin’ if you can teach me how to sew my buttons back on.’

You eye his neckline, which is suspiciously low. ‘I thought you were just trying something new,’ you quip.

Arching an eyebrow, he asks, ‘Is it workin’ for you, sweetheart?’

Hooking your finger into the open V of the shirt, you grin. ‘I’m not complaining, but it doesn’t hurt to fix it. Take it off.’

Joel huffs, joking, ‘Buy me dinner first, at least?’

You watch his fingers push the little buttons out of the holes, baring broad chest and freckles with every downward inch. You hum when he gets to the bottom of the shirt and it hangs open, nothing but bare skin under it. ‘No undervest?’

‘Feel like showin’ off today,’ he winks and disrobes with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

You can’t help it, your breath catches - at the strong shoulders, the soft belly, the way he has one hand on his hip - and by the self-satisfied curl of his lips, you know he knows.

Clearing your throat, you stand and take his shirt from his grasp, the warmth of the fabric comforting in your hands. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘We’re not using the machine?’

‘Not for sewing buttons,’ you reply, opening a little box to find matching ones for his shirt.

‘Okay, step one,’ you seat yourself next to him and hand him the supplies. ‘Thread the needle.’

The thread looks more like a blade of the most delicate hair in between his thumb and index finger, and the needle comically small. But his hands are remarkably steady, and he surprises you by nimbly pushing the thread through the eye on his second try.

‘Pull the thread through and keep going,’ you instruct, snipping it off with scissors when you’re satisfied with the length. ‘Now, we need to knot the end. Loop the thread around your finger a couple of times, pinch it with your thumb and pull the end through.’

He does so with aplomb, and you remark, more to yourself than anything. ‘Your fingers are really dexterous for their size.’

Joel wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘You should know that first hand, hmm?’

A comment like that would’ve had you ducking your head a few months ago. But now, you narrow your eyes at him in playful admonishment. ‘So full of yourself, Joel Miller.’

Dragging your chair towards him, he leans in and murmurs against your ear. ‘Ain’t you the one who was full of me last night -’

Heat rushes to your cheek as he noses the sensitive skin behind your ear. ‘Joel, I thought you wanted to fix your shirt -’

Pushing the needle into a pin cushion, he shrugs and pulls you into his lap with a smirk, his skin hot under your touch.

‘Luckily, I don’t really need a shirt for what I want to do right now, sweetheart.’

More notes: Thank you for this adorable prompt @toomanytookas! I hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a little bit. I love that you have such beautiful memories with your grandma. Mine used to sew and do cross-stitch, I miss her so much 🥹

[seat-safety-switch]

When I was a kid, one of my favourite weekend activities was going along with my dad to get the lawnmower blade sharpened. For that, we went to an independent lawnmower mechanic. He wasn't interested in grinding his own razor-sharp metal blades in a domestic environment with a small child running around, for some reason. Whenever I went to the store, it was always a lot of fun looking at all the new mowers on the racks, poking my head into the garage to see the techs spinning wrenches, and smelling the hot stench of spilled two-stroke premix.

There's something about sharpening a lawnmower blade that most people don't understand. That is that there are two ways to do it: you can do it with an elaborate jig, producing perfect results every time, or you can eyeball it. Most of the time, the second method is the sign of a rank amateur. Human weakness and inconsistency produces a worse cut, or even prematurely damages the blade.

Never fear, though. There was an artisan in their midst. I first saw her when I was about ten, wearing an old motorcycle helmet as she free-hand ground a Kubota 42-inch-deck blade with a gently smoking angle grinder. The cut was perfect, every time. Even though I was an outsider, adults will talk in front of a kid about things they wouldn't dare speak to another adult.

Like I said, their jealous stories confirmed that she was a real artist: she was once commissioned to do a painting of a Prime Minister a long time ago. In that work, she tried to capture the true essence of the soulless vanity and greed for power, and he hated it so much he tried to have her deported. That got her huge acclaim in the art world, but "huge acclaim" doesn't really translate to "getting another contract," so she worked at the mower shop in the busy season, grinding blades, while waiting for a patron to show up and fork over some dough to see what the nightmare mirror would make of their portrait.

Eventually, we moved away, and I stopped going to that lawnmower shop. I wonder what she's up to now? Bet she'd be able to make one helluva guillotine blade by now. One thing is for certain, however: I don't bother sharpening my blades at all, knowing full well that I cannot compete with the unrealistic expectation set in my tender young mind. Instead, I just drag it behind my car on the highway for a few hours until it gets good and hot. Mother Nature is one helluva painter too, you know.

[cometcrystal]

pondering a lot about THAT'S THE NORM! and now i'm formulating an actual suzy & norm friendship. here are some scenarios

SCENARIO 1

suzy has just turned 16. candace is no longer her nemesis (because having a nemesis is a two-way street - suzy learned that during a seminar). she is applying for an internship at LOVEMUFFIN (she would have applied earlier and easily been accepted, but for legal reasons, they don't accept interns under 16). as part of her application, she has to carry out and document an evil scheme of her choosing.

idk what the exact scheme would be because this is just a conceptual post about character dynamics but she begins looking at classifieds for henchman listings. she'd much rather do it all by herself, but she is still Tiny and not physically strong at all, so she needs some muscle on short notice. she sees a "henchman for hire - will accept hamster food as payment" listing under the name Norm Doofenshmirtz, and gets in touch with him because he can lift up to 15 tons

when they first meet, she's initially put off by his general norm-ness, so she just assigns him to his muscle duties and goes on with her plan. but throughout the day, he suggests ideas and does things that actually ENHANCE the plan's evilness, and she is very impressed. hypothetical episode ends with "norm, i think this is the beginning of a beautiful henchmanship"

SCENARIO 2

suzy works towards helping norm become a Real Boy because it's something he's wanted for such a long time, and she doesn't mind doing him a favor. she generates him a brainless, soulless, humanoid flesh vessel from DNA she obtained from a barber shop, and transfers his consciousness to a mechanical brain which she puts in the vessel's skull.

he very quickly finds out that being a human sucks actually. he doesn't like actually HAVING to sleep instead of just shutting off. he doesn't like the sensation of chewing food. etc etc. PLUS, he still feels the same on the inside. he still thinks the same as he did in his original body, still feels the same emotions.

he goes back to his robot self pretty quickly and very happily says "let's never speak of this again!" and suzy is like "agreed" and dissolves the flesh vessel in a vat of acid. yes i recognize this is like a horror movie. yes i think the dwampyverse is messed up enough for this to be plausible

SCENARIO 3

suzy saves norm from being permanently deactivated/destroyed somehow. as they're fleeing the scene, norm is like "ms. johnson, you saved me!" and she's like "of course i did. you're my best friend."

(suzy is not very popular in school and she prefers it that way, but norm is the first time she's ever experienced having a long-lasting friendly relationship with someone that wasn't related to her)

she pauses. "we are friends, right?" he cries a motor oil tear. "now i know i have a heart. because it's growing!"

[surielstea]

Strings Attached

Based on this request.

Pairing: Helion x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has had a crush on Helion for awhile now but feels inadequate when compared to the partners he brings to bed.

Warnings: fluff | Suggestive | Slight angst

3.3k words

The giggling in the room next to mine has me fighting back from hurling my guts out.

Helion was with yet another female tonight— perhaps multiple based on the sound emitting through the walls. Some part of me felt anger, everyone who was interested in the male seemed to get the chance to roll in the sheets with the High Lord while I sat in my room alone, trying to ignore the obnoxious thudding of the headboard against the connecting wall.

I put a sound shield over his room for him, he seemed to forget half the time which left me restless and annoyed.

Finally, at peace with the quiet, I release a soft sigh and my head comes down onto my pillow. The brunette that he led into his room tonight was particularly gorgeous, with long dark locks and beautiful caramel-colored skin. She was from the Summer court, cousin to the Day court. She looked like she'd been bathed in the sun, like not a single cloud had ever settled over her.

I was from the night court.

Born in the hewn city and fleeing the court entirely when Amarantha was defeated after those long years Under the Mountain.

It was noticeable I didn't belong in this court, this palace, the libraries, or the shops. I'd get looks of all sorts from strangers or other court members who thought it best for me to return to where I came from.

Helion made me his second in command after a few years of serving as his emissary. I've been with him for nearly a decade now and my feelings towards the high lord have yet to fizzle away. He's my best friend, yet I couldn't help imagining something more than just being on the sidelines, I wanted to be looked at the way he gazed at potential partners, wanted to be touched, and loved the way the females rave about as they're leaving the palace.

In between thoughts I manage to slip into a gentle sleep, a light slumber that I could easily be startled from. The large bed felt empty like I was drowning in it, like I needed someone next to me to make sure I didn't fall through the mattress.

________

I was standing at my workbench, bright light shining down onto my most recent invention. I peered through my magnifying glass at the inner mechanics, making sure all the gears shifted with each other as they spun. I've been fiddling with the small device for a while now but haven't been able to get it just right. "Let's try this again," I mumble before pressing the button atop the small cube. It makes a quiet beep and my brows shoot up. "Testing," I say into the microphone of the cube.

"You're so smart, starlight." A familiar voice makes me jump and I whirl around to face the High Lord. "You'd make the perfect high lady for this place." He hums and I flush, taking my eyes away from the handsome male and back to my invention. He walks over to me, the warmth of his skin radiating onto me. "What is it?" He tilts his head as he peers over my shoulder.

"A recording device," I say, glancing at him— which I realize was a bad idea because, Cauldron, he was so close. "If it works, we'll be able to start recording audio to put in our libraries for people who can't read,"  I explain and a soft smile curves his full lips.

"Genius." He hums. "It's not finished yet." I wave him off and press the button atop the recording device and set it down.

"Did you need something?" I turned to him fully, he wasn't wearing his crown or any golden jewelry, just glowing dark skin contrasted with his clean white robe. "I can't pester my favorite emissary?" He arches a brow, and my heartbeat quickens.

"I'm your only emissary." I remind him, cleaning up my workspace as he toys with a pair of miniature tweezers, his calloused hands seemingly too large to even hold the tool. "That doesn't mean you can't be my favorite." He mumbles, concentrating on picking up an even smaller screw from the desk with the tweezers.

"Helion," I pluck the tool from his hands and he pouts dramatically at me. "I was only going to ask if you'd like to join me for dinner, but you seem busy." He knocks on the wood as a farewell and takes a few steps away. "Wait," I look to him. "I could eat." I shrug and a wide smile spreads over his sharp features. "Follow me then."

Helion leads me down the halls of the palace, I still marveled at the beauty of this place despite living here for nearly a decade now. The high ceilings held up by large pillars, the floor-to-ceiling windows putting the Court outside on display in a decoration of its own, the crystal clear lake that spreads on the right side of the residence reflects the moonlight right onto the white palace, making it reflect and shimmer like a sun.

"Amilia?" Helion calls as we enter the long dining hall lit by golden chandeliers and tall, skinny candles. "Yes, my lord?" A kitchen maid scuffs into the room with bright green eyes and large voluminous curls. "I have a guest joining me for dinner, we'll need the table set for three." He informs and the maid bows her head with a soft smile. "Right away Lord Helion." She turns on her heel and shuffles towards the kitchen. "Thank you!" The male hums as she disappears behind the swinging doors.

"Three plates?" I ask curiously, coming up to his side. "Not just us?" I say and he looks at me with raised brows. "I have another courtier coming to meet with me from the Dawn court, but I'd be happy to cancel so it's just us." He offers and I shake my head, hair swishing with the movement. "That's alright, I won't disrupt your schedule." I brushed him off, even if a buried part of me felt disappointed. It's been some time since I had some alone time with Helion, he always seemed to be busy as High Lord— or spell cleaver.

I walked over to the table and took up the seat I always sat in, directly beside the head of the table, where Helion planted himself. A maid came over and poured both of us glasses of white wine. I thank her and she nods before skittering away.

The doors to the dining hall open and both Helion and I look up to spot a butler accompanying a gorgeous female clad in lilac and rose-colored robes that draped over her full frame in long sweeping motions. Her deep brown hair was combed up into an intricate style, and the golden bangles at her wrists clanked against each other as she walked in like she owned the place. "Lady Basu." Helion stands with a polite tone. "Please, my lord; call me Imara." She begs of him in a delicate voice. Is she the courtier from Dawn?

"Then you can call me Helion." The Lord gives her a seductive smile. I was going to need more wine.

Dinner was utterly delicious if it weren't for my need to hold back gags every time the two in front of me obnoxiously flirted, I watched as she noticeably stared at him while wrapping her perfect lips around her fork. They weren't even discussing anything pertaining to the courts, perhaps I was blinded by jealousy but what was the point of this female being here if she wasn't going to mention where her court lies with alliances?

"Amilia?" I call the maid, neither of them notice but the female shuffles over to me with an inquisitive expression. "Can I have some more wine?" I ask her. She nods her head and pours the pitcher until my glass is full again. "You know what, I think I'll just take this." I reach for the decanter and her brows raise slightly but she allows me to have the pitcher before I put it down onto the table. Helion looks at me with creased brows but I don't say anything.

"Are you enjoying the food Imara?" The high lord hums. "I've had better things in my mouth." She teased and I nearly choked. "Is that right?" Helion's reply only makes me drink deeper from the goblet, chugging down the rest of the liquid until I'm refilling the glass again.

The flirting grows so insufferable that I have to take a deep breath to control myself from yelling at them to keep it in their pants or take it to the bedroom. So instead I stand up, grabbing my wine glass, my chair loudly scraping against the floor.

"You okay?" Helion looks to me concerned. "Fine, just tired." I brush him off. "I think I might turn in early," I add and he only nods. "Sweet dreams, starlight." He hums. "Good to meet you Imari," I give her a wave. "You as well." She smiles at me even though she's been glaring at me all meal like I was a threat, as if Helion would ever choose me over some drop-dead gorgeous female offering herself so openly to him.

Helion's fingers intertwined with mine and I look at him curiously, his warm hand somehow heating the entirety of my body right down to my very bones. "Get good rest, alright?" He smiles sadly and I get the feeling that he wasn't originally going to say that, that he’s holding back.

"I should be the one telling you that." I joke as I drop his hand but he doesn't laugh, instead, he looks at me with something tender and wanting, that gaze that makes butterflies awaken in my stomach. I ignore it, giving him a nod before spinning on my heel and walking towards the doors, thanking the cooks and maids on my way out without another word.

______

My hangover was pounding into my skull as I stood at the kitchen counter, peeling an orange as my negligent breakfast. Luckily the morning was quiet, the bird’s song flowing in through the open windows, goldfinches perched on the aspen trees outside.

I hum along to the familiar tune with a gentle smile at the tranquility of it, everything going so smoothly until the smell of ginger and honey floats into the room and I know Helion has entered.

"Starlight," He grins widely as he approaches, his hands behind his back like he's hiding something. I narrow my eyes at him skeptically, wondering what it was he kept tucked away from my vision. "How are you so awake?" I sighed with a slow blink. "It's daytime," He looks to the window. "Should I not be awake?" He arches a brow. I shake my head and return to peeling the rind from my fruit.

"Have a good night?" I tilt my head. "Eh," He shrugs and I scoff, a small smile forming on my lips at his dissatisfaction, something like precedence blooming in my chest.

"I have something for you." He bounces slightly on his heels and I look at him unamused, my migraine slowly fizzling away as he gazes at me. "Do you now?" I tilt my head and he nods, pulling his hands from behind his back and revealing a small black box meant for jewelry. "I felt bad last night, you seemed upset so I got you these at the markets this morning." He explains before cracking open the lid of the velvet box and revealing a stunning pair of earrings. A clear sunstone gem framed by gold plates, the stone dangling from a golden clasp.

My brows raised as I looked between him and the expensive gift. "Helion I can't take this," I shake my head. "Sure you can." He urges me. "You can’t just give me things because I'm the slightest bit upset." I sigh, taking the box from him. "Sure I can." He reiterates and a small smile forms over my features. "Thank you," I say, taking the earrings out of their box right then and there before sliding them into my earlobes.

He smiles and tucks my hair behind my pointed ears. The male grins cheekily and I look at him, with stained cheeks. "What?" I cross my arms over my chest. "You're the most beautiful female I've ever seen." He states proudly. I chuckle and tear my gaze away from him, his expression falls. "I'm serious, you are." He nods his head and I only shake my head and continue to peel the tangerine.

"No, I am not." I toss the rind in the trash, trying to ignore the fact that the air in the room has gotten noticeably thicker. "Do you think I'd lie about such things?" He seems genuine which only makes me want to laugh more.

"You lie to me all the time." I shrug and he looks at me like I've gone crazy. "Nonsense, name a time." He commands and I roll my eyes. "Just yesterday you told me I'd make the perfect high lady for the day court." I remind and he twists his lips to the side. "That doesn't sound like me." He shakes his head. I deadpan at him before removing the small invention I've been working on from the pocket of my dress and pressing the button on the bottom.

"Testing," My voice emits from it, louder than planned and all too close to the microphone. "You're so smart starlight," another voice sounds from the speakers of the cube. "You'd make the perfect high lady for this place." It quoted and I glared at him before turning off the invention and putting it back into my pocket. "It works!" He says excitedly and I glare at him.

"Alright fine, so I did say that but still; I didn't lie." He argues and I huff out a grumble of curses. "I'm a truthful male." He drones as I return to picking the spongey white excess along with the fruit of my orange. "No, you're a flirt," I grumble. "Can't I be both?" He shrugs and I shake my head. "No, not if you're telling me I'm the most beautiful girl you've ever seen whilst bedding females ten times prettier than me." I defend and his jaw falls slack, slightly taken aback at my prepared remark. "But they're not prettier than you." He admits and I avoid his gaze that seemed to be analyzing every move I made.

"Stop lying." I grit out and he releases a sigh, his arms coming to either side of my waist, trapping me between his muscular frame and the counter.

"I'm not. You're out of my league." He says breathlessly as if he couldn't believe it. I turn to look at him, my brows pulled tensely. "Then why can't I be one of them?" I utter and he blinks. "One of what?" He asks, his dark brows quirking together. "One of the females you take to bed, if I'm. So beautiful then why haven't you shown it?"

The look on his face was pure shock, his ears perked up at the sound of vulnerability coming from me. I begin to grow embarrassed at what I just confessed.

"Starlight," He sighs, looking down at me with remorseful eyes. "Those partners mean nothing, there's no emotion. I'm simply admiring an art piece, there's no strings attached." He explains and I wait for him to tell me whatever art I am isn't good enough.

"I don't want that with you." He confesses and I swore my heart stopped.

I look up at him with tears welling in my eyes. I wasn't ready to confess and didn't have the confrontation skills to tell him how I truly felt. I swallow thickly and nod. "I understand," I mutter, dipping my head down. His large hand comes up to cup my cheek, tilting my head back and forcing my gaze back to his. "I want the strings attached, with you, is what I mean." He explains and I blink a few times to make sure the make that stands in front of me is real.

"What are you saying?" I need clarification, what does that make us, what can I bear to him without showing my soul in its entirety?

"I'm saying that I want you, for a lot longer than just a night." His hand slips from my cheek to curl around the back of my neck, his thumb stroking along my jaw. "Helion," I warn and his eyes are soft, this is real, he wants this as much as I do. "I know it's unprofessional but—" He begins to argue and I lunge upward, slinging my arms over his shoulders and planting my lips onto his.

He stumbles back, his other hand coming to my hips as he immediately kisses me back. I smile against the feel of it. Gods, he tasted like honey. I pull him closer, his chest pressing into mine as I balance on my toes just so I can reach up to him. He hums against my lips before pulling back with a knowing smile. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," I admit and his eyes gleam with pure affection.

"I have some idea." He reassured me before dipping down again and this time taking my mouth entirely, my lower back pressed against the counter behind me, his hands dipped down, sliding along every inch of my body until finding purchase at my thighs and hoisting me up onto the counter, my legs immediately wrapping around his torso as he pried my mouth open with his tongue and I allow him to explore every inch, I've dreamed of this, fantasized of this. Every male I've ever been with never amounted to what could've been with Helion, and now I have it and I was never going to give it up.

My hands go into his hair, dragging through the black locks as he presses his wanting hips into mine. I begin to work at the top of his robes, dipping it off his shoulder. He backs away with a restrained movement. "We can wait." He pants out. "We can go slow," he reassured, staring at me with every ounce of self-discipline he possessed. "I don't want to wait," I shake my head. "I need you now," I add and a smile curves his lips— then a soft gasp releases from his lips, looking at the center of my chest with creased brows.

A sudden sort of devotion overwhelms my body and I look down, spotting a golden string, sprouting from my abdomen and tethering directly to his. "Mate," I mumble, the only thought racing through my head. My body heats at the realization and when he pulls me into a kiss this time it's pure adoration, in every movement he holds utmost love and respect.

"You're my mate," I mumble into his mouth and he nods with a smirk on his lips. "Wait—" I say and he immediately rears back. I turn to look beside me, the freshly peeled orange untouched on its plate. I pick the fruit up and split it into two. "Eat." I hold the tangerine out toward him. His expression turns into something tender and he takes the fruit, taking no time to consume the citrusy fruit, handing me the other half and beckoning me to eat too. I smile and peel one slice off and pop it into my mouth.

A sudden smell of arousal takes over the space and as soon as I swallow down the slice his lips are on mine, his hands pulling me closer, kissing me deeper, harder. He tasted of citrus and that fact fueled every nerve in my body. Mates, we're mated. His tongue enters my mouth again and the mating frenzy seems to take him full throttle. He winnows us into his quarters, carrying me towards his bed.

Something told me we wouldn't be leaving this bedroom for weeks.

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[eleganthologramcolor]

Thinking about Selkie Reader x Fisherman Simon ...

You're a cautious thing, yet so curious. Your home in the chilly waters is of course, everything you could ever need, all of your friends and family and the other creatures who gossip with you about the rumors on land. But, oh, "you're so lucky," a lovely mermaid would say, "you could go up there if you really wanted," and she'd look to the fractured surface of water and floating ice, as if hoping to catch a glance of the cities, of the glowing lights and the rumored mechanisms that land dwellers busied themselves with.

It was unfortunate for you, a seed of curiosity is now nestled in the garden that is your restless heart.

Your friends can see it in your eyes, the new starry eyed mysticism as you lay on the floor, letting the water cradle you, the sunlight now dull through the later of floating ice overhead. It was once dreamy the way the ocean bent the light, but now it was a reminder that you were only in a bubble, and that there was an entire universe beyond your home.

And when they know they can't stifle the wanderlust for any longer, your friends kiss you goodbye, blessing you with their worries, and leaving you with a bit of advice.

"Don't ever let your coat out of your sight," worried whispers in the water around you, "they'll take it, and keep you forever."

A worry begins to gnaw at the fruit of your heart, but you swallow it down for now.

On land you wear your coat like the people do, a pretty overcoat with plain clothing, not to draw attention to yourself during your journey. Carefully you paint yourself as one experienced in the ways of everyday life in the cold little town, letting the glee of a new world bubble up in your chest, overflowing to the very tips of your fingers, a warm buzzing all over.

Who could fail to notice such ebullience? Such pure wonder? Your eyes alight at every little thing, and no measure of strength could defeat your smile; within yourself or the wonderous new world.

It's why he noticed you at all.

Working a long day, he'd been up before the sun and the rest of the world, out with nets in the blistering cold. Calloused by the many mornings, the many years in this line of work had made him unyielding, and unfeeling to the softness of his coat. Not that it mattered, since the material had weathered with him, the sherpa matted and scratchy.

So when a bright eyed thing like you wonders by the docks that morning he nearly tumbles over his feet.

You look at the world like it's all brand new, you smile at nearly everything, yet somehow find it in you to tamper that feeling. His heart aches to see something so pure, so warm in this cold town.

You walk by into the town. What a pretty thing like you was doing at the docks, he'll never know, but his ribs hurt when he knows you likely won't be back on this side of the land.

But you are, every morning. He's back in time to just miss you crawling out of the water, and every morning he can only admire you more. He wants to see what it is that makes you see the world that way. Maybe you could tell him how to be softer. What do you see in the grey, snowy village and icy waters that he doesn't? He wonders if it was a matter of perspective, kneeling down an inch or more to keep his head beside yours, following your hands when you point.

He manages to become a part of your routine, though through time he notices more about you.

Your skin glistens in the early morning, there's an added chill about you, yet you never tremble. You're unfamiliar with many things, the first time he brings you into a shop with him, are you so innocent that you've never ordered a meal at a counter before?

And your eyes...

You were always so full of wonder, of joyful bewilderment, yes, but up close everything was different. They shimmered, impossibly ethereal in comparison to anyone he'd met. Deep and vast, most certainly from a realm beyond his own.

He weren't completely witless, he could tell there was something strange about you. Something inhuman, though he dared not to call it that. He'd grown to adore you anyhow, you were an angel, a beacon of softness, a cheery filter over the cloudy world he'd known. He couldn't put his finger on it, and he wouldn't dare, it was unthinkable to imagine offending you with such questions of the validity of your humanity.

He begins to bring you gifts. Shiny trinkets and tasty treats, always bewildered when you'd informed him you'd never had one before! You'd never tasted this before! What was it!

He was suspicious, especially upon gifting you one of his old watches, to which you exclaimed gleefully, "Oh, what is it!!"

But again, he had no reason to worry. If you were something malicious, you'd likely have scouted the world you planned to ruin a little better and at least know what a pocket watch was.

You are charmed. Your first human friend. Even more so when he invites you over for dinner. A small cabin, you've never been invited to a human's home before! The floors are made of wood and the walls have paper on them and there's a fire in the center and th—

He's trying to take your coat.

You're out the door, and it's only then that it clicks with him, and he realizes the error of his ways.

He doesn't dare to chase or to try and explain. He's been trapped before, he wouldn't dare sentence you to even a fraction of the feeling, so he will let you go.

Watches the dim evening sky as you don't even bother to take the path, you run straight over bramble and rocks to dive into the water.

[angermango]

"I'm not cooking or anything, this is just a silly idea- (looks down at canvas) ffffuuuu--"

...

so, first I only wanted to draw Professor Layton with a Reiterpallasch from Bloodborne because haha funny hat man with gun-sword, but then i ended up drafting concept art for "Laytonborne", apparently.

"Puzzles all over the shop... You'll be stuck on one of them, sooner or later."

extra artist commentary:

Layton

yes, this really did just start with me wanting to give Layton a Reiterpallasch because he's a canonical fencer and Bloodborne trick weapons absolutely slap. The Reiterpallasch is literally a rapier with a pistol attached that can mechanically switch to prime either the blade first or the gun first so you can stab and shoot someone at the same time.

Giving Hershel the Bloodborne makeover was kind of funny because he wears such a simple look in canon it was hard striking the right balance between his recognisable look and BB aestheic since Bloodborne loves embellishment especially via lots of belts/buckles and those weird shoulder-cape things. I tried to keep it simple enough though because as much as i think he could pull off a hunter ensemble i don't want to have to keep track of all the funky bits. the Top Hat Stays, of course.

Aurora

Aurora is eerily good a fit in a Soulsborne-esque setting considering she fits the criteria for a "Soulsborne maiden" classic archetype sort of character: After all she's a mysterious pale-haired young woman with mystical origins/powers and a foreign-sounding accent and may or may not have some connection to the wider lore and powers that be of the setting. hell even her whole thing being a golem works in a way as even Bloodborne has artificial humans existing as a concept.

i got a little lazy with changing up her dress for both time and lack of inspiration. I thought maybe i'd really do her up but then I chickened out that her costume wouldn't be recognisable any more so just slapped a belt and some patterns on the shawl bit and called it a night :P (if i'd been braver/more motivated she'd probably look good in an approximation of the White Church set, something like that)

and yeah so as the sketches off to the side are like, no real clue how/why it might be triggered but imagine her having the potential to be an optional boss or something (and she'd whoop your ass)

Flora

idk tho Flora also seems like she could be a good contender for the "Soulsborne maiden" position too in a way, or even if not her whole character and story fits into the world quite well. especially with Bloodborne having the Plain Doll who is a sentient doll made in the image of someone her creator loved/was obsessed with and Flora living in a village of human-like robots which started after her father tried to build a replacement for her dead mother.

Her dress is a combination of all her canon costumes across the games. The fur-trim shoulder cape is from one official art of her, the short shawl and white sleeves and bit around her waist is based on her first dress, and the rest of the dress design is based on her second and third game appearance.

The 'Doll Flora' concept there at the end is just some idea of a false/clone Flora running around as well. She's got some little differences including elements of other parts of Flora's designs over the years that aren't on OG Flora, such as the sash and shoes.

Anton

Anton fits in scarily well to the Bloodborne-y setting, perhaps not too surprisingly given the whole 'vampire' thingy. I sort of envision Folsense and Herzen Castle being a bit like the Castle Cainhurst area of Bloodborne which leans more into the classic gothic horror of a remote and looming haunted castle occupied by a sinister enigmatic character.

And yes, that is a reference to the infamous "LAYTOOON" scream from his canon 'boss fight' in the second game - imagine the whole steaming up and screaming thing being like his boss phase transition animation.

The whole 'withers to an old man/husk' concept seems so very Soulsborne-y it really just fits yknow. like if you defeat him he shrivels up/ages to dust or whatever. RIP gassed-up grandpa.

I partly rizzed up his suit using inspiration of the Cainhurst Knight set because like. come on. it's too good to pass up the chance to pretty up with and looks a lot like his canon suit in parts.

Did I trace the foyer background art for Herzen Castle for the mockup just for laffs, only to realise partway that 1) Layton and Anton actually fought in the ballroom, and 2) the ballroom would actually make a much better boss arena setting because it's wide open and the arch from the front room leading into the ballroom could totally be the 'boss fog door' part better than the front room?

...so yeah I then drew the ballroom background without tracing this time like a true madman and had a hell of a time with perspective but the plus side is we also get the sword collection from the game there as a cameo because in Laytonborne the good professor brought his own already.

The Masked Gentleman / Randall

Had a bit of a time deciding how to Bloodborne-ify this guy because his suit in canon is actually really. really boring. it's just a white suit like cmon. so to give it that Bloodborne makeover I fell back on the classic shoulder-cape thing that almost all Bloodborne characters have, added some patterns and accessories based on the Mask of Chaos' patterns and the Decorative Old Hunter's set from the Old Hunters DLC (in the leg brace, forearm guard and the hints of gold chains around the upper arms).

He also gets a Threaded Cane, another trick weapon of Bloodborne fame which is as it suggests: A cane weapon that works a bit like a baton/sword combo but in its alternate form it's a whip covered in serrated metal blades which form the cane itself when locked together.

It seems very appropriate for Randall to be like a boss who starts out as the Masked Gentleman and then at half-or-less health you break his mask, reveal Randall and then wings burst out of his back as he enters his second phase rage mode. This concept part felt more DSouls-y than Bloodborne-y to me i think since Bloodborne is less fantastical and leans more into the body horror/monstrous kind of boss transitions? But at the same time it was too good an opportunity to pass on at least sketching out, plus get you some sick fallen angel imagery out of it.

Also the hanging arm pose miiight be a bit inspired by Artorias of the Abyss. just a bit.

Descole

i recall seeing a post somewhere once with this very low-res rare art of Descole sitting in a throne from somewhere i have no idea what it was for. and I remember it kinda reminded me of Lady Maria's promotional art for the Old Hunters DLC so that's why the last picture of Descole exists.

mf already dresses so extra i legit could think of nothing to add to make him more Bloodborne-y unlike the others. I also used his canon sword's design from the games with a custom sheath because again couldn't really think of anything more to do to make him fit more when he's already got a cool signature weapon to show off.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

So there's a 60s song. One of my favorites. I have several, but let's not focus on that. Its called Give Him A Great Big Kiss by The Shangri-Las, and everytime i hear it, it makes me think of steddie.

More so of Steve finding the song, probably in his mom's old record case. And he's always loved the song. But then he met Eddie. And it's meaning changed. His thoughts constantly drifting to Eddie when he hears it. And he starts singing it all goofy and love sick when he hears it now.

He and Robin work at a bar downtown, Eddie works at the mechanic shop around the corner. He comes in for early lunch a lot, and that's how they meet. They get along great. All of them do. Robin loves him to death. As far as she's concerned she gained another soulmate along side Steve. One who blabbers like her and they rant at each other constantly, Steve watching them fondly.

But he's also got it bad for Eddie. Obviously. And Robin knows this. Knows about the song. And the way Steve sings it all gooey and adoring and lost in thought.

After a few plays of the song she sings along with him, they duet they're hearts out when it comes on and the bar is empty. Usually right before they open. Both of them using mops, or bottles, or dishrags as microphones as they sing.

Eddie is pining too. He's got it so bad for Steve that he finds it hard to look at him sometimes. And Robin, drukenly one night, after Steve had fallen alseep in his chair beside the pool, had told Eddie to shoot his shot. That he'd sink it, or get a home run, or a touchdown, or some other sports term that neither of them really understood.

But everytime Eddie has tried to make a move, something comes up. They get interrupted. Every. Single. Time. Eddie had decided fate was against them and almost given up hope.

He'd had a plan today. Come to the bar for lunch before they opened, ask him, whether Robin was there or not. She'd been making it a point to not speak to them if it looked like they were talking about something important. Eddie knew it was pity for him. Was endlessly greatful.

But that was how he ended up at the bar. Ducking in the side entrance they left open for him. And he's about to burst in like normal, all loud enthusiasm to see his friends, but he hears Steve groaning about something, hears Robin laughing, hears his name, and it stops him, his hand pressed gently to the door.

"Uuugghhh my god. I'm useless. I was so good at this in school. I could ask anyone out. Like it was nothing." Steve grumbles, Eddie's stomach flutters, he pushed the door open, just a crack, can only see Robin where she's perched on the bar top, legs crossed.

"Maybe that's the problem." She shrugs, Eddie sees her drop her hand to the left, he bites his lip and carefully pushes the door a bit further. He has to stifle a laugh when he sees Steve, looking forlorn, head dropped onto the bar, Robin's hand petting at his hair absent-mindedly. He turns his head to look up at her and Eddie moves to the side a bit, hoping Steve doesn't notice him.

"Huh?" He huffs, glares up at her. She pats the side of his face a couple times and takes her hand back.

"You said you did it like it was nothing. Maybe this isn't nothing? With Eddie, I mean. Maybe it's... bigger. Better!" Her hands move in a flurry in front of her as she talks, Steve ducks away from them as he sits up on the stool properly.

"Better. ...elaborate?" He says slowly, his eyes on the ceiling, his face all screwed up the way Eddie loves, his concentration face, it would be Eddie's downfall one day.

Robin nods enthusiastically, plops her feet down onto the stool next to Steve.

"Well does it feel different? With Eddie? Than it did with all those other people?" She asks, looking down at him with an impossibly fond look.

Eddie watches Steve bite his lip, think for a long moment, his hand moves absent-mindedly to his stomach. Eddie mirrors him, his stomach fluttering as he watches. Feeling a bit guilty, but he can't look away. He can't move. He has to keep listening. Needs the courage, he tells himself. Steve nods.

"Yeah it does. It's different. He's different." Steve says, and he's got this dopey look on his face that Eddie's never seen. Robin nods, slides down off the bar, her butt replacing her feet as she holds Steve's knees tightly.

"Different then what? Then who?" Robin promtps, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"Different then everyone." Steve breathes it like a prayer and then immediately shoves his face into his hands with a groan as Robin makes a high pitched noise in her throat.

"You know what this needs don't you?" She asks, excitement coursing through her now. She's on her feet before Steve answers, bouncing out of veiw, toward the jukebox in the corner. Steve groans again and turns to follower her.

"Alcohol?" He asks, voice dry. Eddie hears Robin snort.

"Maybe after work. But right now what we need, is.... drum roll please." She draws out the please. Eddie watches Steve sit on the stool, watching her. He gives her nothing.

"I said drum roll!!" She shouts, and Steve grins, tapping his hands on the stool between his legs.

"Theeeeeee Eddie song!" She sings, and Eddie faintly hears the click of the Jukebox before a womans voice fills the air. Music kicking in after the first few words, Steve already bobbing along. Eddie's heart stutters in his chest. He knows this song. Has heard Steve humming it a few times. It's not a bad song. Eddie's open to things.

He watches Robin dance back into view as Steve starts mouthing the words, pretending to fight against it. But all Eddie can hear are the lyrics, as Steve really starts to get into it, taking Robin's hand and letting her pull him off his seat.

"Thick wavy hair. A little too long. All day loooong, he's singin his song." Steve starts to sway, and Eddie can't do it, they're moving out of view and he needs to see this. He ducks through the door quietly and sinks back to the back corner silently, both of them lost in the song as they dance. Robin chiming in now.

"Well, what color are his eyes?" She asks Steve, perfectly in sync with the song, they've clearly done this... a lot. Steve shrugs and counters,

"I don't know. He's always wearing shades." He sighs wistfully.

"Is he tall?" Robin asks, climbing back onto the bar, laying on her stomach, feet kicked up in the air.

"Well, I've got to look up." Steve stays out on the dining floor, dancing between the tables, swaying his hips.

"Yeah? Well I hear he's bad." Robin scrunches her face as she sings.

"Hmm. He's good bad. But he's not evil." Steve furrow his brow, 'thinking'.

"Tell me more. Tell me more." Robin sings, kicking her feet to the beat, chin in her hands as she grins at Steve. He does a fancy twirl and falls into a chair, dreamy look on his face as he continues.

"Big bulky sweaters, to match his eyes. Dirty fingernails, oh boy what a prize." He swoons a little, his head resting on his chin for a moment before he spins up out of the chair again, dancing towards Robin as he sings through the chorus again.

Eddie's breathing is fast now, his palms sweating as he watches and listenes to Steve sing about kissing him in the street, and loving and caring for him. Wanting to always be there for him. Eddie doesn't miss how fond he looks.

He's looked fond this entire time. Fond and... something else. Eddie's not sure there's a word for it. But he thinks 'longing' might be close. He wipes his palms on his grease stained jeans and moves foward, slowly, not wanting to draw attention, but he can't stay put any longer. Robin chimes in again, rolling onto her back dramatically, arms crossed over her chest.

"Is he a good dancer?"

"What do you mean is a good dancer?" Steve laughs into the line and Eddie's stomach flutters, he could watch Steve like this forever.

"Well how does he dance?" Robin sings, sitting up and facing Steve as he closes in on the stool in front of her, places his hands on it and practically sighs the last line.

"Close. Very, very, close."

The music fades. Robin singing the last of the 'oohs' gently as it does, both her and Steve smiling at each other. Eddie takes this moment to bump into a chair, sending it screeching a few inches across the floor, both of them flailing as they turn to look at him.

"Oh my god!" Robin yells, her hands clamping over her mouth. Steve is frozen as she looks between him and Eddie. Eddie raises one hand from his thigh, wobbles his hand in an awkward wave.

"Uhh... hey." He says, brilliantly. Steve's face is getting redder and redder as he stands there, and Eddie can see him tensing. About to bolt.

So he does something he's never been very good at. For Steve. He finds his bravery and walks right up to Steve, plants himself in front of him, hands landing on his shoulders harder than he meant too, but Steve doesn't flinch.

"Hey." Eddie breathes, his thumbs soothing over Steve's collarbones.

"You already said that." Steve says flatly, he's still staring at Eddie. Eddie's pretty sure he hasn't blinked since he hit the chair.

"Right. Yeah. Lemme try somethin else then." Eddie breathes, ducks forward, presses his lips gently to Steve's, feels Steve gasp against his lips and then feels his hands clamp down on his hips, hard.

It's a small kiss. Just a press of lips really, warm, and sweet, and gentle. But when Eddie pulls back, they're both breathless. Eddie vaguely hears Robin make that happy high pitched noise again, and clapping. And then any sounds from her are drowned out by the next song that clicks on, You Send Me by Sam Cooke. Eddie loves this song.

"You wanna dance?" He asks, brushes his nose against Steve's cheek, laughs when Steve follows him, trying to catch his lips again.

"I dunno. Are you a good dancer?" Steve asks, smirking at Eddie, though his eyes are shining and soft.

"What do you mean am I good dancer?" Eddie asks, feigning offense.

"Well... how do you dance?" Steve recites, sounding almost shy.

Eddie bites his lip, wraps his arm around Steve's waist, and pulls him tightly to his chest as he turns him further onto the dance floor, guiding them between tables with an out of character grace.

"Close. Very, very, close." Eddie breathes, his heart fluttering as Steve throws his head back and laughs, his arms circling Eddie's neck as they sway together, holding each other close as the music plays on.

[exaltedfuzz]

Hi! Do you have some personal HCs regarding how Lana dealt with the grief of losing her parents? She'd known them her whole life compared to Ema, and I love to think about (read: make myself sad about) how she managed to balance that and trying to do the best by her only remaining family.

Hello! Honestly, if a question contains “do you have some personal HCs regarding [...] Lana”, the answer is almost definitely yes, and this is no exception! Thanks for the ask. I’ve got a couple scripts in early stages around this very topic, so I don’t want to spoil too many of my thoughts in case I ever want to make a comic about them, or something. (Honestly, I should just write fanfic at this point… I have a rough piece of prose writing in the works that I'll attach part of under the cut... A little teaser.)

Around the time Lana would have had to start taking care of Ema, I think I’ve settled on it being most likely between 16 and 18, since I think if she hadn’t had to stay put for Ema, she’d have moved away to go to uni. So she’d be in a pretty tense time in her life anyway, with exams coming up, and whatever teenage stuff she was dealing with. I imagine that when she got the call saying that her parents were dead, she didn’t have much time to grieve alone before Ema was asking what was wrong, and her focus had to very quickly switch right onto making sure that her sister was ok. In general, I think the thing with Lana is that she’s massively self sacrificial, so her coping mechanism became doing the best possible job she could for Ema, and in that, there wouldn’t be much time for grief between making sure Ema was fed, making sure she was getting good grades so she’d manage to get onto a law course (so she could earn good money to put Ema through college), making sure she could drive, so they could shop and get places…

Here she is...

I think one of the biggest struggles in the early days was learning how to drive. She would have probably been about to start lessons, or just started, (if we assume she was 16 or so) and her parents just died in a car crash. But she’d just have to get on with it, because it was necessary. (She doesn’t have the best record with cars, does she?)

Since Ema says she “used to be so gentle, always smiling”, I think that this was the image of her that Ema experienced most often, so it’s safe to say that she was really patient with her. Ema was probably the only thing that kept her going at a lot of different points in her life.

I expect there would have been some really rough moments though, once Ema was off to sleep and she was alone in a house much too big for a teenage girl and a baby. I like to think that they at least got to inherit a house. (They deserve a little bit of a break, don't they?)

Here's a doodle of her in the first few seconds of having to acknowledge the fact that she's on her own. This is based on a line from the thing under the cut.

And, as promised, here's a little bit of writing. Rough and underdeveloped, I think, but hopefully enjoyable.

The landline didn’t usually go. If it was important, her parents would call her cell. But it did go. Three times, consecutively. She could recall it all. Ema, sitting up at the table with her, eating her pot of yoghurt and drawing in the back of Lana’s notebook. Lana’s textbook laid out in front of her - this was the one thing she didn’t remember. It was physics, that much she knew, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care about whatever was on that page after the rest of what she learned that night. She was smiling, Ema was too. She couldn’t keep her sticky little hands off of Lana’s pens and pencils. It was achingly normal. So familiar. Her parents would have a conference, or a party, or a theatre trip planned, and she was old enough to look after Ema, so she did. She was good with her.

So when they told her to not wait up, to make sure Ema got a little snack if she was hungry, to call them if she needed anything, it was normal. Another night in, another night of making sure Ema didn’t get too curious about what all the fun things under the sink were, another night of studying, another quiet night. She liked them. Sure, it was hard to be saddled with looking after the most curious baby to ever have little hands to grab with, and it was hard to not feel like she was missing out whenever her friends would go out, while she was here, eating carrot sticks and cucumber to try to encourage Ema to follow suit - those days still tasted like hummus in her mind. But it was a labour of love, and Lana was happy to sacrifice her time for her baby sister.

She tried not to be bitter. She didn’t want to be, because Ema was such a joy. But when she’d sit up at the table, nose in her books as always, and she’d hear all the fawning over the youngest Skye, she did feel left out. When Ema was born, Lana stopped getting so many little treats. Her parents used to take her out with them to these excursions. It was a lot of fun to get to talk to the scientists who worked with her mum, she loved seeing the crappy plays that the amateur dramatic society put on, she’d always end up getting sweets and snacks when her dad took her to the shops, and it just kind of stopped when Ema was born. It was a hard time for Lana, but she couldn’t resent Ema. She had a silly smile, and little hands which wanted nothing more than to squeeze Lana’s fingers, and poke around at her face. Holding Ema in her arms while she conducted her first scientific experiments on the elastic potential of Lana’s nose almost made her cry.

She told her parents then that she wasn’t ever going to let anyone hurt Ema, and she’d done her best to make good on that promise until her life was once again torn out from under her feet with the SL-9 incident, and she found herself constantly hurting Ema all on her own in her self absorption. She never forgave herself for that. Ema did, though. She was always so excited to come and see her on the other side of that visitation room, and she still told her everything, like Lana made sure she knew she could. Her eyes looked sad, though. Lana had watched those eyes as they changed from barely betraying any conscious thought, to when they quirked half closed with Ema’s newfound sarcastic smirk. Lana wasn’t quite sure she liked that. Her baby sister was older than she was that night by now, and she definitely didn’t seem like she could handle looking after a kid. What must Lana have looked like?

She knew what she felt like, that’s for sure. Of course, she stood up, with a sigh, on the third repetition of that irritating ringing, and held up the phone to her ear. She was so ready to tell whoever was on the other side that they didn’t need double glazed windows.

“Hello?”

“Is this the Skye residence?”

It was cold. Maybe they did need double glazed windows. Lana hesitated before she responded.

“Ah, yes?”

“Am I speaking to Miss Lana Skye?”

“...Who is this?”

There was too much blood rushing through Lana’s head for her to really hear what the response was.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last bit?”

“There’s been an incident involving a Mr. and Dr. Skye.”

She didn’t care about the rest of whatever he said. Something about investigation being open, something about intensive care, something about an escort car to the hospital being arranged. She could not speak, and her eyes failed. She leant forward, one hand white knuckled around the phone, the other now beginning to bleed with how Lana was chewing at her thumbnail. Ema was still babbling on the other side of the kitchen-diner. She never wished Ema would shut up, but she didn’t want to hear her making these silly noises as if their lives weren’t about to become impossible.

Lana was about to put Ema to bed. It was late. She didn’t remember the time. It was easier that way. She was supposed to be giving a presentation tomorrow at school, and she wanted to be sharp and awake for it. She wasn’t really planning on staying up much longer herself. Certainly not to wait for her parents to get back. She supposed they never would, now. She recognised the way this officer spoke from all the stupid cop shows she watched. She didn’t need it spelled out for her. She mumbled out a thanks, and hung up.

She always hated crying. She couldn’t stand it. The way her breath sounded as it shuddered out of her made her feel weak, and she wasn’t weak. She couldn’t ever afford to be, and that was all she could think of. Lana didn’t notice Ema getting out of the chair and unsteadily walking over to her, and her little grasping hands reaching for the hem of her jumper managed to ground her again. She looked over her shoulder at her sister. Eyes so wide and full of questions, all of which Lana realised, in that moment, she would have to answer. She must have scared her with the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way she grit her teeth, because Ema pulled a little sad face at her.

“Why are you crying?”

Ema wasn’t really that helpful sometimes. Lana swallowed, and looked for an answer. She tilted her head up, closed her eyes, and covered them with her hand, before breathing.

All she could manage to choke out was confirmation: “I’m very upset.”

What a useless statement.

Ema wasn’t ever satisfied with one answer. She just kept asking why. Lana knew that you had to be honest with kids when they had complex questions, so she picked Ema up in her skinny arms and held her while she explained. Usually, she was delighted to explain everything about the world to her sister, but this was hard. Not as hard as seeing Ema’s little pout as she tried to comprehend, though.

As she sat in the escort car on her way to the hospital, as if their presence would miraculously bring their parents to life, she kept holding Ema. She kissed the top of her head and tried not to cry on her soft hair. Her stomach turned as she thought about what the last thing her mum had said to her was. It had escaped her mind until now, and she wished she could let it escape her mind forever.

"No boyfriends over, alright? Be good. Love you. See you in the morning."

She supposed she'd never get to tell them now that there never would be any boyfriends. It was selfish of her to care about something so trivial, so she tried her best to push it to the side. Ema never had to know, either. It wasn't important.

She didn't end up giving her presentation. Or going to school, for the next few days. Ema was at home, so Lana was at home.

[borderlinereminders]

you've mentioned before that when you enter a kinda hypomanic state that you use it to prepare for the inevitable depressive episode. can you talk a bit about that?

Hi anon!

Here's a link to a post I have on being prepared for a crisis, which is kind of similar along the lines of what I do. But I'll share some more specific examples from my own life.

I track my moods, and my moods do seem to follow a specific cycle of lasting 4-5 weeks, so I tend to have an idea of how much time I have before the switch.

When I feel I'm in a hypomanic state, I have more energy. So, during times like this, I try and accomplish as much "to do" stuff as I can that is important to me. Things like booking appointments, certain deep cleaning chores, etc. I also will cook/bake and freeze stuff that I can easily re-heat when I am too depressed to have energy to make stuff myself. I also make sure that grocery shops near the end of my hypomanic state include easy to snack on items.

I make an extra point of checking on my friends, because while I do always care, I know I can fall off it a bit when I'm depressive and I want them to know I care about them and love them.

I update my self-care box, or any instructions I have on my phone for handling big feelings.

I try and have a look at my last depressive episode, and see if there were things I want to try and work on.

Did I fall off something, or do something I wish I hadn't? Is there a way I can try and prevent that or work on that in my next one? Maybe I forgot to take my meds a lot. A solution for me was I put my meds on top of my dog's food since I never forgot to feed her (like she'd let me) and I had to move my meds to get to her food.

Were there ways I wished my loved ones could support me that I couldn't communicate then? I might make a point of reaching out to talk about that with them for the next time. It might involve having a code emoji for "I'm really upset and could use some support but I can't put this into words to ask for it."

I've had a lot of people tell me that this is "giving into the depression" and that by accepting it, I'm making it happen. And that's just not the case for me. No matter how much positive thinking or coping mechanisms I used, I'd always fall into a depressive cycle. Being prepared for them has increased my quality of life as my relationships are stronger, and it's easier for me to get through the depressives. Accepting them was key to me being able to deal with them better.

[rosanna-writer]

Karma Is My Boyfriend (1/?)

Summary: Elain Archeron saved countless lives by vanquishing Graysen Nolan, her literal demon of a fiancé. She's a hero, but it's just not fair that being a good witch destined to rid the world of evil has left her tragically, painfully single. Enter Lucien Vanserra, the best cupid in the business, who's been sent by the universe to balance the karmic scales and find Elain the perfect new partner…

Happy Elucien Week! A huge thank you to @popjunkie42 for beta-reading, and my playlist for this fic can be found here. I'm so excited to participate in @elucienweekofficial; we're so lucky to have such a dedicated team of event runners!

Read on AO3 or under the cut!

The new energy in Elain's shop was too sweet to be demonic. It set her teeth on edge—artificial strawberry, discount chocolate, cards fashioned out of glitter glue and construction paper. Nothing at all like the gentle, soothing aura created by the plants lining the aisles of Roots 'n Shoots. Elain felt it following her like a bad smell as she repotted new shipments, packaged online orders, and upsold premium fertilizer to customers who'd wandered in.

By lunchtime, she'd resolved to get rid of it.

Whatever magic was hanging around didn't seem to be a threat, but she hadn't survived three years of fighting evil by taking chances.

She had half a mind to call her sisters for backup; even though Elain was a powerful witch, her premonitions of the future weren't nearly as effective for self-defense as Nesta's telekinesis or Feyre's ability to cause explosions with her mind. But whatever was hanging around didn't seem malicious. Just…cloying.

Elain let her intuition guide her and followed the strange feeling to its source. She walked slowly down an aisle of tall, leafy ferns and kept her eyes peeled.

There—through the leaves, a flash of red. Every molecule in her body seemed drawn right to it, like a compass and a magnetic pole. She hurried towards it.

The flash of red turned out to be long auburn hair pulled into a messy bun. Elain couldn't help but notice the way it gleamed in the sun as she gently pushed a fern leaf to the side to get a better look at the culprit…

And found a mechanical eye staring back.

She squeaked in surprise and jumped backward. The leaf rustled gently as it fell back into place. On instinct, Elain reached deep into her well of power, the same way she did just before vanquishing a demon.

"Well, hello there," the man purred from the other side of the fern.

"Can I help you find something?" Elain said.

He smiled at her in a way that could only be described as radiant. He was gorgeous, and the jagged scar running down the side of his face only seemed to enhance his beauty. Before Graysen, Elain would already have been fluttering her lashes at him.

Now, she just glared in suspicion.

"I think I've found exactly what I'm looking for," he said, which did nothing to set her at ease, even though his expression had gone heartbreakingly soft.

Before Elain could demand answers, he winnowed over to the aisle where she was standing. A risky move—he was lucky there were no mortal customers while the store was closed for her lunch hour.

"Not a single butterfly in that stomach of yours. This is going to be a tough case," he said thoughtfully. He cocked his head, staring at Elain like she was a particularly difficult puzzle he was trying to solve.

"I beg your pardon?" Elain said tightly.

He began circling her like a predator, mechanical eye clicking and whirring. Elain huffed in frustration as her hands settled on her hips. Her strange visitor might not have been a demon, but she didn't have time for anything supernatural with so many orders to fill by the afternoon.

"The meet-cute I engineered just now was some of my best work, but it didn't get your heart fluttering at all. That ex-fiancé left you with quite the wound, didn't he?"

For the last year, Elain walked around with a ragged hole in her heart that refused to close, and to add insult to injury, the entire magical world knew everything about her literal ex from hell. "If you're here to discuss Graysen Nolan, get out of my shop," she said with all the venom she could muster.

"I'm here for you, Elain."

"If you're not an innocent in need of protection, it has to wait."

"Put me to work while we talk, then. I can multitask," he said with an elegant shrug.

She hesitated. The smartest course of action still seemed to be ordering this stranger out of her store, but...she could use the help. And at least he wasn't evil.

Gods, had her standards really sunk that low?

"At least tell me your name." It was irritating that he already seemed to know hers.

He sketched a bow. "Lucien Vanserra, at your service."

"The only service I require at the moment is someone to water my pothos," Elain said with a meaningful nod towards a watering can and row of plants towards the back of the room.

To her surprise, Lucien began filling the watering can without a single complaint. For a moment, Elain watched, telling herself it was to make sure he was doing it correctly—and not at all because he was absurdly beautiful.

She forced herself to turn her attention back to organizing the cards with handwritten care instructions that Roots 'n Shoots included with every houseplant they sold. She could have saved herself time and printed them, but the personal touch was exactly the sort of thing that kept customers coming back to her instead of the big box garden supply store down the road. As she worked, they lapsed into a silence that was almost companionable.

But just as Elain started to relax, Lucien went and opened his mouth again."I thought there might have been an error when the file they gave me said you hadn't had any new partners since Graysen, but now I can see why."

She stilled. "What file?"

"The file that every cupid gets when they're assigned a new charge."

A cupid. Well, that certainly explained why his aura didn't feel demonic, just sickly sweet. Elain had never crossed paths with a cupid before, and she'd been under the impression they were supposed to be a bit more…cute .

"I'm one of your charges?" Technically, Elain was already someone's charge—even after Cassian had broken the rules and married Nesta, he'd remained the guardian angel assigned to protect the Archeron sisters after they'd learned they were witches tasked with ridding the world of evil.

"My only charge, actually. The elders insisted I focus on you and only you, Elain."

"And to what do I owe that honor?"

"You saved the world, and what goes around comes around, sweetie. Offing your demonic fiancé earned you the best and brightest cupid's help with finding a doting new partner."

Lucien said it as if she were supposed to fall over herself in gratitude. But she had half a mind to slap him for the audacity to think he could just waltz into her place of business and treat her like a charity case he'd magnanimously offered to take on.

"A partner is the last thing I need." Elain and her sisters had spent the last several nights rounding up a rogue band of crossroads demons that had been plaguing Velaris's intersections. Casting the vanquishing spells on each street had taken hours, leaving her with precious little time to eat, sleep, and run her store.

It had been the same with the succubi last week, the rabid werewolves the week before, and the banshees they'd spent a whole month rooting out. These days, going on a date was unthinkable.

Lucien rolled his eyes. "You're certainly not going to attract one with that attitude."

That, Elain decided, would be the end of the conversation. She was an Archeron, one of the three most powerful witches ever to walk the earth—not someone who'd allow herself to be condescended to.

All it took was one half-hearted wave of her hand, as if she were brushing away a fly, to activate the wards she'd placed around the shop. Twin vines of pure magic grew from the ceiling, hoisted Lucien up by the armpits, yanked him across the room, and dropped him unceremoniously onto the sidewalk outside. The spell wouldn't let him back in until she changed her mind.

Hopefully, that would be the last she'd hear from Lucien Vanserra.

***

As soon as she got home, Elain marched straight up the stairs of the Archeron manor. She and her sisters had inherited the house—along with their powers and mandate to protect the innocent—three years prior, and the Book of Shadows that never left the attic had guided them through all of it. Instructions for spell casting, potion recipes, taxonomies of every magical creature they might possibly come across…the Book contained it all.

The worn leather bindings creaked as Elain opened it and began searching for the entry on cupids. There wasn't an index; the ancient book was a work in progress by generations of Archeron witches, which meant it was a disorganized mess on a good day. Sometimes, wind would gust from nowhere and just so happen to flip the book to the correct page, but today, she had no such luck.

Hello, Elain.

She jumped, nearly dropping the Book. In her rush to find the entry on cupids, she hadn't noticed the bat hanging upside down from a rafter.

Rhysand—her other, non-angelic brother-in-law. He was a bat shifter that roosted in the attic while the manor had been empty, and though Nesta had been fully prepared to call animal control the night they'd discovered him, Elain had felt horrible throwing him out of his home. But since their family had lost their fortune, the manor was badly in need of expensive repairs, so Feyre struck a bargain: Rhys could stay as long as he paid rent and kept quiet.

He'd married the youngest Archeron sister within a year.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Elain said aloud. Even after years of wielding magic of her own, she'd never gotten used to Rhys's way of speaking mind-to-mind, a power that allowed him to communicate even when he wasn't in a form with proper vocal cords.

He shifted, wings and fur disappearing as he turned back into a man. The claws stayed in place so Rhys could remain inverted—he claimed it did wonders for his back pain.

"You didn't," he said, "and if there's something urgent, I can call Feyre for you."

"It's nothing demonic. At least, I don't think. Do you know anything about cupids?"

Rhys cocked his head, violet eyes sparking with interest. "I've crossed paths with a few over the centuries. They're harmless."

"Are they all that arrogant?"

"Not in my experience."

Elain bit back a frustrated sigh and turned the Book's pages a little more forcefully than necessary. It was bad enough that the Powers That Be had decided that after Graysen, she was so tragically, painfully single that it required divine intervention, but they'd gone the extra mile and sent their biggest asshole of a cupid to "fix" her, too.

"Hopefully there's still a spell I can cast to keep him away."

"Did someone bother you?" Rhys's voice went cold, and suddenly he sounded less like the brother-in-law she badgered about remembering to recycle and more like the terrifying Lord of Nightmares he also was. Elain smiled; it was sweet, in a way—Rhys was fiercely protective of the people he loved.

"Yes, but not like that. Don't go crushing minds on my account."

"What happened?"

"A cupid named Lucien came to my shop today and said he'd been sent to help me find a new partner."

"And I assume you didn't take him up on the offer?"

Elain shook her head. She'd finally found the entry on cupids, which was barely a paragraph long: Benevolent. Responsible for connecting the worthy with their true love.

The worthy. Elain certainly didn't feel worthy, not after her love for Graysen had deluded her into thinking a demon could change. In the end, she'd done the right thing and vanquished him, but…making that choice had nearly torn her apart. She'd come so close to letting him live.

It had been nearly a year, and the sight of Graysen pleading for his life still haunted in her dreams.

"If you hated him that much, I'm sure the cupid elders could always send you another," Rhys said with a wry smile.

"I don't need a cupid. Business is booming at Roots 'n Shoots, and I have my hands full with protecting innocents and corralling you, Feyre, Cassian, and Nesta. That's more than enough for me."

"Being busy is all the more reason to accept expert help."

Elain closed the Book of Shadows and glowered at her meddling bastard of a brother-in-law. Rhys smirked back.

She started to go, but a pair of massive, membranous wings erupted from Rhys's back, allowing him to release his talons from the rafter, glide upwards, then land on his feet in one smooth movement. Elain crossed her arms, waiting for him to get out of her way once he'd shifted completely back into his human form.

Despite the irritation that was probably rippling off her in waves, Rhys's expression softened. "More than anyone else I know, you deserve to be happy, Elain. Even if you don't feel like you do."

A lump formed in Elain's throat. That meant a lot, coming from Rhys, who was always staring at Feyre like he couldn't believe his luck. "Love you," she said.

"Love you, too."

Despite all that love, he still didn't move, continuing to block her path to the attic's only exit. "I'm sensing a 'but,' though," Elain said.

"I should warn you that if you don't give things with that cupid a shot, Feyre might try matchmaking you herself. And if Feyre does, then so will Nesta…" He trailed off, letting the implications of her sisters teaming up hang in the air.

"Blackmail is immoral." She felt obligated to point it out, though pesky little things like ethics rarely stopped Rhys.

"Immoral and effective," he said, flashing her one last grin before disappearing into the shadows with a gentle gust of night-kissed wind.

[dixons-sunshine]

Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU Headcannons: Part Three | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word count: 861.

A/n: So I've made it a habit recently to post a fic every one-two days, but I was extremely busy today, so I didn't have time to start working on any of my other requests. I still wanted to post something, though, so here's a part three to my personal headcannons for the SSHD AU that nobody asked for. This is mostly set in the future but before the outbreak. I hope y'all like these! If you wanna see more, let me know.

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★ After graduating high school, you went to college to get a degree in teaching.

★ Daryl didn't go to college, however. He felt like more school was unnecessary for him, but he encouraged you to do it since he knew you wanted to become a teacher.

★ Daryl managed to land a job as an apprentice of sorts to a mechanic and got a second job as a bouncer after a while, and used some (most of it but he didn't tell you that) of the money to help pay for your tuition and textbooks.

★ You had your suspicions about it, and got a job of your own to help pay for everything. However, Daryl shot down any talks of you getting a second job, claiming that one job was already hard enough added on top of college.

★ The two of you rented a crappy, worn down apartment until you graduated and landed a full-time teaching job at a kindergarten near Atlanta, and you and Daryl finally managed to upgrade to a decent apartment.

★ Once the two of you had settled down and had gotten hitched at the courthouse, you invited your mother over for a housewarming of sorts.

★ She definitely tore into you both for eloping, but in the end, she was ultimately happy for the two of you.

★ She started teasingly calling you Mrs Dixon at every opportunity, and playfully threatening Daryl that if he ever broke your heart, she'd kill him.

★ She was a decade too late for that talk, however, so Daryl paid it no mind whatsoever.

★ Your mom was practically your best friend, so when she died three years later due to cancer, you were devastated.

★ You regretted not having a proper wedding like your mom had wanted you to have, but Daryl assured you that she didn't hate you for it.

★ Daryl was also heartbroken. He couldn't believe that the sweet woman who had basically taken him in was dead.

★ It was a hard couple of months after that, but Daryl refrained from falling into old habits and distancing himself to deal with his emotions alone. He reminded himself that you were a team and that you needed him more than ever at that moment. He couldn't pull away at a time like that.

★ Things got better with time. With the both of you taking the time to properly grieve and mourn, it got easier. The sadness when you thought of her death never fully vanquished, but with time, you were feeling better, visiting her grave whenever you had the chance.

★ When you and Daryl moved from the trailer park all those years ago, he didn't tell anyone from his family where he was going.

★ He didn't even tell his father. He just packed his bags with his things and silently disappeared from the trailer.

★ Merle didn't know about it, either. Daryl loved his brother but he knew what a dick he was and what he involved himself in, and he didn't want that in his new life with you. He wanted to start fresh, wipe the slate clean.

★ It was a couple of months before the outbreak when you and Daryl saw Merle again. You were walking around, doing grocery shopping, when you bumped into him.

★ Merle was immensely surprised when he noted the wedding rings on both of your fingers, and demanded to know why he wasn't invited to the wedding.

★ However, he guessed he shouldn't have been surprised when Daryl bitterly spat out that there wasn't a wedding and that you eloped. If he knew anything about Daryl, it's that he doesn't do big, fancy events.

★ About a month before the outbreak, you started feeling nauseous and more tired than usual. A total of three pregnancy tests confirmed that the reason for that wasn't because you were ill, but because you had a life growing inside of you.

★ Daryl was surprised to find out you were pregnant. Neither of you planned the pregnancy and it was extremely unexpected.

★ However, you both decided to keep the baby.

★ Daryl was scared of what parenthood had in store for him. He didn't want to end up like his father or be even worse than him.

★ It took for you to gently talk him through his fears for him to start calming down.

★ After he was calmed down, he allowed himself to feel happy. The two of you were in a stable environment with enough money between the both of you to accommodate a baby, so he felt himself relax.

★ That didn't last long, because soon the two of you would hear about the dead rising and see the news reports that warn you to evacuate immediately.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[leiawritesstories]

over my heart

@throneofglassmicrofics August prompt: "Acceptance"

word count: 700

warnings: discussions of grief, tw: tattoo needles

*monty python narrator voice* and now for something completely different...enjoy!

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Except for the consultation, neither of them had spoken. Instead, the steady low thrum of the tattoo needle's buzzing filled the cool, dry air, covering the background hum of the shop's air conditioning. The sign in the window had been flipped to "CLOSED" hours ago, but after business hours was the only time Rowan had wanted to come in for his appointment.

It was easier if there was no one else around.

Over the phone, the tattoo artist had initially hesitated, but Rowan was a close friend and she understood his need to be alone. They had traded emails with her initial sketches based on his descriptions of what he wanted, and she'd finally refined the design to fit his vision and agreed to have him come in that quiet Thursday night. Although her shop faced one of the main streets of downtown Orynth, it was a few blocks away from the popular cluster of bars and late-night shops, so there were typically very few people who walked past the shop after dark.

His eyes were closed, and he breathed rhythmically but not too deeply as she worked, bent over his torso. It would be best if you didn't inhale too deeply, since the tattoo will be on your ribs, she'd explained. Her black-gloved hands were steady, and her bright blue eyes were focused sharply on the path of her tattoo needle as it traced precise lines into her client's skin. He'd barely moved since they finished the consultation and she prompted him to get comfortable for the tattoo, and she would have worried that he'd passed out if she didn't know Rowan Whitethorn better than that.

The man could be as impassive as granite when he wanted to be, and now was clearly one of those times. She couldn't blame him---many of her clients came to her for deeply emotional tattoos, and it had taken all of her restraint not to sob when Rowan had first reached out about this particular tattoo. After so many months of watching him draw further and further into himself, of wishing she or anyone else could reach out and pull him from the depths of his anger, his pleas, his bargaining, and his soul-cracking sorrow, it was a massive breath of relief when he'd asked her to ink him.

Lyria had cast her light over the bleakness of Rowan's past, and when that light blinked out, Aelin was afraid Rowan would never see brightness again.

Beneath her buzzing needle, his heart beat steadily, thudding a gentle counterpoint to the mechanical hum of her work. The strokes of the Old Terrasenian characters unfolded under her skilled hands, an epitaph sketched over Rowan's heart, as he'd requested. I need to carry her as close to me as possible; can you place the piece over my heart? The ink that scrolled over Aelin's own heart hummed, as if in reply, a finely spun thread of soul-deep understanding that connected her to him in his grief. She knew what it was like to lose someone who held the keys to her heart. If Rowan needed a tattoo to help him navigate the twisting path of loss (as she did), she considered it her honor to give him that piece of support.

After she set aside her tools, wiped antiseptic solution over Rowan's fresh tattoo, and carefully covered it in clear film, Aelin discarded her gloves and handed Rowan a small mirror. He angled it down so he could see the Old Terrasenian script over his heart, and the suggestion of a smile tugged at one corner of his lips as he read the words she's so carefully rendered.

Lyria, beloved light of my heart

Rowan handed Aelin the mirror and traced a fingertip lightly over the clear film protecting the fresh tattoo. Slowly, he sat up and reached for his shirt, pulling the worn cotton over his head with care. As he stood to leave, he met her eyes, and something that could have been understanding passed between them. His lips moved, the words so soft that she didn't properly hear them until after he'd left the shop and closed the bell-laden door behind him.

"Thank you."

~~~

TAGS:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@renxzs

@anarchiii

@fauna-flora11

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eleven

☁︎ Eris x Healer OC

☁︎ notes: we will see Eris again next chapter I promise lol

Definitely pictured Nuan's workshop like Tinkerbell's workshop in the old pixie hollow books. (pic here)

Also the clock Nuan gave Aya is inspired by the Egyptian myth about the beetle that pushes the sun across the sky every day.

warnings: none for this one, just a little angst and Aya being hard on herself again.

☁︎ a drawing of Nuan to go with this chapter

☁︎ word count: 3.5k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ taglist (as always lmk if you want on or off): @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor @secret-third-thing @bookwormysblog @mal-adaptive-dreams @daycourtofficial @roseodelle @sbgal @adventure-awaits13

After Aya's visit to the Night Court, something within her began to settle in a way that she had never hoped for. Something ever moving finally stilled, tamed by the knowledge that what she was had a name.

But as lovely as it was, the quiet was unnerving. As much as she had hoped and prayed for it, now it served as a wide open space for other thoughts to invade.

Welcome or not, the stillness did not last long anyways, because where one ceaseless search had miraculously ended, another began. Before the battle of Hybern, Eris had occupied Aya's thoughts more than she'd like to admit. But now he was like a permanent fixture in her mind - a certain shade of red tinting every facet of her world. It was as if her heart had adopted a new beat, reaching for her mate with every thump,

Find Me Find Me Find Me

There was no call from the Forest House, for which Aya was grateful. There was no telling what impulsive decisions her heart may have made for her. What would it be like to bear her soul to him and tell him what she had learned about herself? Would he be frightened of her power? Or maybe even threatened?

To stave off the incessant pestering of the bond, she spent every spare moment pouring over the stacks of books Rhysand had lent her. So far, they did not offer any new information. But each one was carefully read, notes and references copied into a notebook dedicated to the cause. Each finished book was sent back with a snap, and once or twice over the days a new one was sent back with pages bookmarked with notes in Nesta's neat script.

Videmati Videmati Videmati

The other rhythm of her heart, competing for Eris's attention in her mind, filling every vein with the desire for more knowledge. If she could bottle the feeling of hearing that word for the first time, she would drink it one drop at a time, drawing it out for the entirety of her immortal life.

Perhaps this desire would not be quite so voracious if there were not an underlying feeling that there may be answers closer than she once suspected. This inkling began halfway through her tour of Velaris, in a tinker's shop somewhere in the rainbow. Vague whispers of memories and ideas pulled for her attention, but refused to reveal themselves fully.

One night, as Aya studied another book of magical history under the full moon, she finally understood. The grandfather clock beside her desk struck midnight, the mechanism clicking and whirring as a door below the shining clock face popped open. She watched the little mechanical beetle roll its sunstone orb across a painted pastel sky, so lovingly and painstakingly crafted. Miniature clouds drifted across the scene, fading to nothing as the minute passed, enchanted to return again in another twelve hours. One of her most treasured gifts.

As she thought of the hands that had created such an incredible thing, the book fell from her grasp and clattered to the floor. Nuan. The one who had made this clock. A clock whose mechanical song sounded just Lucien's eye, like a signature of her work. An eye that had abilities nearly identical to Aya's powers.

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Aya crossed the bridge to Nuan’s workshop as slowly as she could manage. Each level of the tower was comprised of open arches, obscured only by creeping vines and drooping flowers. In the upper levels, an enchantment turned the exposed arches into a mirror, reflecting an image of the sky instead of letting anyone see inside.

From the level that connected to the bridge, the clanking of metal and snap of magic was a quick giveaway that Nuan was home and hard at work. Each tall arch was also enchanted to keep out the weather, but it apparently did not keep any sound inside. The inventor did not care much if the outside world could hear the sound of her tinkering.

Aya had visited the workshop a few times, and admittedly held great admiration for it. But there was an uneasiness that crept up on her in Nuan's presence that caused her to avoid her when possible. Aya did not care to examine the source of that uneasiness. Any time she got too close, it began to look something like jealousy.

To Aya, and many others, Nuan was the embodiment of the Dawn Court. Beautiful, clever, and a force to be reckoned with. There was plenty to be jealous of. Face to face with the curtain of ivy that veiled the entrance, the healer chewed her lip. It would be worth any awkwardness, she reminded herself. She could survive this visit.

Nuan found her before she could get any further in her pep talk.

“Aya,” She called, pushing the leaves aside to reveal her smiling face. She had pushed her work goggles back, strands of dark hair sticking up beside them and framing her sweaty brow. Even with smudges of grease across her slender nose and round cheeks, she still looked beautiful.

“Hello,” Aya banished anything but warmth from her expression, “I hope I'm not interrupting you.”

Nuan waved a hand and tilted her head in invitation.

“I was just taking a break actually. Please come in, I haven't seen you in so long.”

Aya stepped through the doorway into the magic of Nuan's workshop. The space was utter chaos - workbenches lined every wall of the tower, each one covered in half finished projects. Cabinets and shelves overflowed with materials and scraps, a few dedicated just to salvaged parts from old clocks and machines. A miniature forge filled the room with heat and smoke, and an apothecary cabinet of enchantment components gave the air an herbal scent. Against the far wall, a set of stairs spiraled up to the second floor, covered in dishes from meals eaten in haste and set aside to be forgotten.

Nuan had a reputation of precision, elegance, and cleanliness. Which is why not just any visitor was allowed in this tower. The inventor insisted that this chaos was the secret to her success. But it may still come as a shock to those who had a certain image in mind.

Aya loved it. The space thrummed with hidden colors and the buzz of magic coming alive with the help of her power.

“I was happy when Thesan told me you wanted to see me,” Nuan began, filling a beat up kettle in the sink. Aya pushed down the pang of guilt that rose in her stomach. She should see Nuan more often, not just when she needed a favor.

“Yes, I had a question for you,” Aya said shyly, choosing an empty stool near the sink.

“Do tell,” Nuan sang, a note in her voice suggesting that perhaps Thesan or Zoren had hinted at some of the recent events in Aya's life. She set the kettle on the hot plate and then leaned forward on the counter, chin propped up in her hands.

Heat crept over the tips of Aya's ears and for a moment she considered indulging and confessing about the bond, but she feared that if she began talking about it, she wouldn't be able to stop herself. So she said instead,

“I learned something about my powers recently.” It was strange to say it out loud. She knew Nuan was aware of her powers, but Aya had never talked much about her magic outside of her family and her mentor. Though it had been Nuan who had delivered her daily dose of faebane to keep her powers hidden from Amarantha.

Her eyes stayed glued on the table, running her finger over a nick in the wood to hide its trembling.

“And?” The excitement in Nuan's voice hit Aya with another twinge of guilt. Nuan genuinely cared for her.

“I'm a videmati,” Aya raised her eyes, watching the inventor carefully. The word still tasted strange on her tongue, though just as delicious as the first time.

“A videmati,” Nuan breathed with heavy reverence, her eyes widening. “That's amazing.”

Aya’s finger stilled on the table as she stared at Nuan, an ache in her chest easing. So she did know what the videmati were. And she was not afraid. How was this the first time Aya was realizing that Nuan always spoke to her as an equal?

The inventor watched her with her chin propped in one hand, waiting with eager eyes for Aya to go on. Nothing in her posture to indicate that she was only humoring the girl before her.

“Please, tell me everything you know,” Aya blurted, spurred by this realization. Her fingers began to tremble again, this time in anticipation.

“I'm sad to say that I don't know much,” Her smile turned to a grimace, “Everything I know came from one chapter in a book.”

“And that was the inspiration for Lucien's eye?”

“It was,” Nuan's dark eyes sparkled, “Very clever of you to figure that out.”

“How did you learn about it?”

She turned and began rifling through collections of books and papers lining the shelves above the worktables behind her. Her long, glossy hair swayed as she moved, and loose papers fluttered to the floor as she carelessly shuffled the stacks around.

“It was a long time ago” Nuan answered, “During a visit to the Day Court, and I bought a copy of the book to bring home.”

She paused, and Aya felt her chest tighten with the hope that it was not a book that Aya had checked already. She had already returned over a dozen back to Rhysand, to be declared as dead ends. Even after checking the extensive references and footnotes of each one.

“It may be worth a visit there, if you haven't tried already.” Nuan went on.

Aya pursed her lips. It definitely would be. An expert could be invaluable. But Thesan was too busy to go with her, and she did not like the idea of visiting on her own. Helion had a way of working gossip out of the most unwilling of victims. He often proved to be a particularly difficult challenge for Aya's social anxiety.

“This may take me a minute,” Nuan moved to a different cabinet, a stack of spare parts clattering to the floor as she opened the glass door that had been holding them in place, “Feel free to look around. Window shop a little.”

Aya had already been skimming, eyes drifting over wooden crates of raw gemstones, jars of marbles, and spools of thick wire in every color. Finished suncatchers, wind chimes, and drying flowers and herbs hung from the rafters. Fae lights bobbed among them, painting the room in their pale glow. A canopy of beautiful things.

“How's the clock holding up?” Nuan's voice drifted over from behind some shelf.

The healer had slid from her stool and begun to move through the room, wings tucked in tight to avoid upsetting any of the precarious piles. The anticipation thrumming in her body would not allow her to sit still while she waited.

“Lovely as ever,” Aya smiled to herself, stopping beside a row of jars, each filled with colorful liquids and half-submerged sticks with crystals growing on them. That clock was one of her most treasured belongings.

“Has it slowed down at all?” Her voice was a bit muffled this time.

“Not at all,” Aya ran her finger over the edge of a small watercolor painting taped to the wall. “It's still very smooth-”

Her voice guttered out as her gaze moved to the next little painting above it. A sparrow sitting on a branch, enchanted to blink at the viewer, an invisible wind ruffling its feathers.

“This is beautiful,” She murmured. Nuan's head appeared again as she scoffed. “Will you paint me one like this? I'll trade you some tonics.”

“You can take that one,” Nuan waved her hand irreverently, “No tonics needed. Sit tight, I'm going to look upstairs.”

Aya was still staring at the painting as Nuan bounded up the stairs. Her boots rattled the ceiling above with each footstep, making a few of them wind chimes sway and sing.

Gingerly, she pulled the paper from its place on the wall and held it in her hands. As the little bird blinked at her, alarmingly life-like, Eris’s voice echoed in her mind. The moment he found her after the battle. Her skin burned as if it was only a moment ago that he had held her face in his hands. Seemingly the last simple moment between them before everything grew so complicated.

Would Eris react as Nuan had, if she told him what she was? What would he think, having a mate with such strange and rare powers? Her fingers tightened on the paper as she wondered - would Eris know anything about the videmati?

It felt like only a minute that she stood there, reveling in the memory of that moment, all of her wonderings whirling through her mind like snowflakes. But the next thing she knew, Nuan had appeared beside her again.

“I didn't know you liked birds so much,” She said softly.

“Oh,” Aya blushed, finally setting the painting aside, “It's a newer interest, I suppose.”

That twinkle returned to Nuan's eyes, like she knew a little more than she let on, but she said nothing more about it.

“Here,” She held out a leather-bound book, “This is it.”

Aya read the title hungrily, and her heart sank to the ground. A lump formed in her throat as hopes she'd forgotten were dashed.

“What's wrong?” Nuan's brows drew together and she tilted her head, trying to catch Aya's eye.

“I already have this one,” Aya swallowed hard and met Nuan's gaze, plastering on a smile, “I'm very grateful for your help.”

“Oh no,” Nuan frowned, “I'm sorry I don't have any more.”

“It's alright,” Aya mustered a small smile.

A moment passed and then Nuan asked, “Do you need someone to go to the Day Court with you? I imagine Thesan is too busy to go. Unless you'd want to ask Zoren instead.”

Aya looked up, throat sore from swallowing tears and the shame of her childish disappointment.

“Why would you do that?” She croaked, “I've never been a very good friend to you. I don't deserve your kindness.”

“What do you mean?” Nuan asked, bewildered. She frowned again and shook her head. “You've been a perfectly good friend to me, Aya. You're always so hard on yourself.”

Aya was quiet, looking down at the book in her hands. A single tear dropped from the tip of her nose and landed on the worn leather.

“You have nothing to punish yourself for, Aya,” Nuan said softly. Her hand landed gently on the girl’s shoulder, “You push people away because you think you didn't deserve them. But the truth is, that just deprives us, too.”

Aya shut her eyes tight, tears falling onto the leather cover with a soft patter. Aya knew she was hard on herself. Those feelings were a slog she walked through daily - a weight that was not as easy to shed as people made it sound. ‘Be easier on yourself,’ She heard many times. A command, as though her problem was obedience.

But the way that Nuan said it made Aya feel as though the inventor knew. It was not commanded, not even a chide. She was reaching through the fog in Aya's mind and placing the words there like seeds in a bed of soil. To grow and bloom.

Aya had not realized that Nuan had drifted away to give her a moment alone. Until she let out a frustrated groan, making Aya jump.

“Oh, Mother,” Nuan stood by the hot plate, frowning at the silent kettle. “No wonder the kettle never boiled. I never turned the hot plate on.”

Aya could not suppress her giggle, her already bubbling emotions promptly turning it into roaring laughter that would not make sense to anyone else if she tried to explain it. Nuan laughed with her just as uncontrollably, cheeks pink from embarrassment.

Their laughter faded into soft conversation, Nuan apologizing a few more times for not being able to help more. She recalled everything she knew about videmati powers just in case, and promised help in every way she could think of.

Aya determined to find some way to show her appreciation. For her efforts to help and also her friendship. Despite the aching disappointment, Aya was happy to simply bask in the presence of someone who cared for her as she was.

A long, comfortable silence settled between them. Aya cradled her tea cup in her hands, drinking in the warmth of it, trying not to let it remind her of certain fiery autumnal powers. Every once in a while, Nuan would hum to herself, eyebrows drawn close together as she was lost deep in the thought. Eventually, she returned to the present moment and drew the quiet to a close.

“I like your sash,” Nuan tilted her head, gazing at the beaded waistband of Aya's skirt. A pattern of lotus flowers was embroidered into the pink fabric. “Lotuses are often a symbol of new beginnings.”

She took a sip of her tea and murmured through the steam dancing above her cup, “And power.”

The words echoed, resonating with something in Aya's heart that she had not yet named, but had been making its way to the surface. And with that, she realized how tired she'd become. The sky surrounding Nuan's tower was slowly sinking into a gentle crimson as the sunset approached. She was ready to go home, to lay down and let her mind sort through everything she'd learned as she slept. Tiredness seemed to hit her so much faster these days.

Even still, Aya said farewell with a lighter heart. Even the disappointments of her visit could not weigh her down. Not with a new friend and so many possibilities on the horizon. Nuan's words continued to wind through her thoughts, both thrilling and foreboding.

As she passed back under the curtain of ivy, a sweet and almost spicy scent caught her attention. Something vaguely autumnal.

A pot of calendula flowers sat just outside the archway, surrounded by several other planters to adorn the main entry.

With that scent overwhelming her senses, Aya remembered something she had not thought about in a very long time. Perhaps it was fate, or the mother, or a mind preoccupied by new beginnings. She was not sure what exactly placed the thought at the forefront of her attention. But she decided to indulge it, wherever it had come from.

Peeking back into the workshop, she caught no glimpse of the inventor. She’d probably retired to her room upstairs. But anyways, Nuan was always so generous, she likely wouldn't mind one borrowed flower.

Aya plucked one of the lovely golden flowers from its stem and scurried away, heart pounding with anticipation.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Chamomile for clarity

Chrysanthemum for hope

Calendula for the mother

The old wives tale had been nearly lost in Aya's memory. Her cheeks flushed as she stirred honey into her cup of tea, feeling a little embarrassed over what she was about to do.

But she'd heard others swear by it, that the little spell worked. A cup of chamomile tea before bed, a smear of chrysanthemum oil over the heart, and a calendula placed under the pillow as an offering to the mother. The combination would allow one to dream of the bond. And if one used the spell before a mating bond had snapped, whatever dream that followed would contain hints of their future match.

If it did not work, and all Aya woke up to was wasted oil and a crushed flower under her pillow, she would feel incredibly foolish. But no one would ever know, and the components were easy enough to gather.

And how was she supposed to make any sort of decision when she had no idea how Eris felt at all?

The healer breathed deep and downed the last of the tea before crawling into bed. The stolen flower was placed carefully under her pillow, and a dot of sweet-smelling oil applied above her heart.

Aya pulled her blankets tightly around herself, closed her eyes, and sent one last desperate plea to the mother.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Sleep carried her away faster than it had in weeks now, pulling her away to a world dappled in golden sunshine. Billowing clouds filled the sky, tinted lovely colors by an iridescent dawn. Aya stood on a bridge carved of sunstone, the structure seemingly inspired by the intricate architecture of the Autumn Court. Torches lit the bridge at intervals, filling the half-translucent stone with light, as if it was lit from within by embers and flames.

Aya could have sworn she felt the cool, smooth stone beneath her feet, too real to be just a dream. She remembered her ritual, but nothing of the time it had taken to fall asleep. Unusual, since that state of in-between was lately occupied with dark and painful memories.

But the spell worked. She was here, seeing the bond with her own eyes. And it was beautiful.

Drawing in a deep breath, she began the journey across the bridge before her, toward the tall, foreboding

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

@mcyt-aro-week days 1 and 2 because i missed yesterday.

prompts: unconventional relationships / trope subversion, loveless / AU (blaseball au)

(remaining post under the cut)

"God, at this rate I'm never saving anyone's life ever again," Gem sighs as she puts her phone on Do Not Disturb.

"What do you mean?" False asks.

They're at a coffee shop in Houston. The Sunbeams had just finished a series with the Spies and were going home that night, while the Mechanics started a series with them tomorrow. False had decided to arrive a day early so her and Gem could do this, and after the terrible games both of their teams had had, False was particularly thankful for it.

Generally, she was thankful for Gem. About two weeks prior, False had been pitching a game in the Hellmouth, and the umpire had gone rogue. It was the ump at home plate, and it had been making a beeline for her when Gem had come sprinting out of her dugout and pushed False out of the way with more force than she'd expected the woman to hold. Gem had then tackled the umpire to the ground, taking the flames herself until they burnt out and could be safely removed from the field. Gem had barely seemed phased after the fact, just shook the dust off her uniform and walked back to the dugout. It was about as terrifying as it was impressive, and when Gem hit the game winning run off her at her next at bat, False couldn't find it in herself to be anything but impressed.

"My twitter mentions are blowing up, I think some fan or paparazzi saw us here and assumed we were on a date." Gem rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of her tea.

False can't help the snicker that comes out at Gem's words, but Gem doesn't seem particularly amused. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yup, this happens to me all the time," Gem says. "Everyone's got this image of us Fire Eaters being like, knights in shining armor, so every time I save somebody's life I have to deal with the internet being literally unusable for a few weeks if I want to avoid speculation about my relationships. Oh, and that's all the press will want to talk to me about after my games."

"Oh," False says, taking a long sip of her tea. She doesn't make much of a habit of looking at social media, and she has suddenly never been more grateful. "And this happens every time?"

"Every time! It's like they're trying to dissuade us from actually doing it or something. I'm not gonna stop, but like, sometimes I really want to. Can't they just ask me about the actual game one of these days?"

False lets the table fall quiet for a moment. She's thinking. For her entire career, she'd been a notoriously private person, both in her personal life and to the public. She'd been working on the personal life part for a long time, at the behest of her therapist, and she likes to think she's made some improvements. As for the public sphere, well, they weren't entitled to know anything about her. But- False takes a look at Gem, who's eyes are quickly flitting around the shop, like she's keeping an eye out for any cameras or fans looking too long in their direction. Maybe just this one thing...

"I think I might have an idea."