#a singular tiny bird

[festive-spiderbot]

[phantomrose96]

So my mom's birthday was this week and I flew down with Patches to visit her for a few days. Patches, while a verified hater of the airport, really loves my mom's place because there are so many more closets to explore and birds to watch and cobwebs to dust with her stupid little face.

My mom also goes to bed earlier than anyone I know, so for the evenings it was on me to monitor Patches' activity. And she's very good. She's 99% good. She's 1% "could use improvement" good and the 1%, which I'd forgotten about, is tomatoes.

Patches will leave most things alone. (And by "alone" I mean she'll absolutely bitch slap them onto the floor, but they will leave the ordeal with just as many or few surface punctures as they had before the encounter started.) Not tomatoes. Patches has it the fuck out for tomatoes.

So when I noticed her batting something around on the ground I realized that my mom had left a sole, roma tomato in the fruit basket on the counter and it was now experiencing the life cycle of a pingpong ball between Patches' paws.

I take it away from her, like a fucking evil woman, and now I'm like "okay actually, where do I hide this." See at home I have an anti-Patches cabinet, which is for things that have no business living in a cabinet but which WILL have business dying at Patches' hands if left accessible. And this is WEIRD to have such a cabinet but it's my own home.

I'm scanning my mother's cabinets going "is this weird here? can the tomato go in my mother's dish cabinet?" And I briefly consider sticking it in the fridge, as a normal location, but the audacity of altering this tomato's ripening process is an audacity I do not possess. So I go with cabinet. I go with the first eye-level cabinet, which is the coffee mug cabinet, which is perfect because the tomato will not be lost to cabinet purgatory there, since my mom opens it every morning for her coffee. I will simply tell her in the morning that the tomato is there.

Next morning. Seeing as my mother goes to bed at the butt-crack of dusk she ALSO gets up at the ass-crack of dawn. This means I trail down like 2 hours after her with my work laptop and Patches. This is also now her birthday. I'm sharing the sofa with her for a good 15 minutes when I think to myself I'd like some coffee, and I remember I put a tomato in the cabinet. I tell my mom as much. I put the tomato in her coffee mug cabinet.

And the look I get is one I can't really figure out on spot. But she says "Chrissy this is the best birthday present you could have given me" which is a very weird response to the already weird statement "Oh you probably saw, but I hid the tomato in the coffee mug cabinet because Patches has it out for tomatoes."

So I do not at all know how this makes for a good birthday gift. My mom tells me how a week or two ago, she came home unloading groceries. At the end of putting everything away she could not for the life of her find her phone. Absolutely nowhere. She pinged it from her iPad and it started singing. From the fridge. She opened her fridge. Her phone was in the fridge.

A couple days later she lost Ash's collar. Spent three days looking for it. Couldn't remember where she'd taken it off or what she did with it. Showed up in the grass when she remembered she took it off to let him play fetch in the lake.

And then this morning, her birthday morning, she came into the kitchen, made her pot of coffee, opened the cabinet to fetch her coffee mug, and found... tomato. Singular. Tomato in the cabinet. Tomato she had no memory of placing in a cabinet. Tomato she could not possibly fathom having a reason for being in the cabinet.

She was like Chrissy I cried. She was like this is it, time to send her to pasture. She's a harebrained old lady now and there is no coming back from this. She's the lady who accidentally puts tomatoes in the cabinet. Awake before God, standing in the kitchen, signing her life away over this tiny roma tomato. (Roma tomato with little cat vampire teeth marks in it).

I was like oh. No. I put it there. Because Patches was going to commit war crimes against it. I put it there because I did not stop to consider "Will finding a single tomato in the coffee mug cabinet somehow be the very specific thing that undoes my mother this morning?" I put it there out of careful consideration for the life of this tomato, and with no consideration for the extremely esoteric way that a tomato in the cabinet could be received like a horse head in the bed, Godfather style.

We made a salad with the tomato. Happy birthday Mom.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flag III

Frida Maanum x Emma Lennartsson x Baby!Reader

Summary: When Emma and Frida found you

Frida is leaving for England.

Arsenal have been interested in her since the season began so it was only natural that she went off there to develop her career further.

But, still, Emma doesn't want to see Frida leave.

Frida occupies a space in Emma's heart that she can't put into words. Frida is everything to her, the air, the ground, the sky and the stars.

But Emma would never discourage Frida from finding her place in a league abroad.

Frida deserves everything in life, even if it's half a world away from where Emma is looking after their home in Sweden.

It will be different in the beginning, Emma knows this, but together there isn't much they can't overcome.

But, still, she'll miss the way Frida's body feels against hers. Even now, as they sneak around the back of the training centre to kiss.

It's not the most professional they've ever been but she just can't help herself when it comes to Frida.

"E-Emma," Frida says in a hushed tone, pushing Emma's roaming lips from her neck," Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Emma pulls away, glancing around for whatever errant sound Frida has heard.

"I..."

There's nothing but the breeze in the wind, the rustle of leafless branches in the height of winter.

It's absolutely freezing. It's predicted that this is to be the coldest day of the year.

"Nothing," Frida says," I must have imagined it."

Emma's lips go back to her neck, leaving dainty kisses all over her skin. Each one a labour of love, red hot in a way that feels beautiful as the snow falls around them.

Emma stops though, pulling away again.

"No," She says," Wait. I think I can hear it too."

It's faint, barely audible whimpers and whines that are getting more and more quiet as they go on.

But Emma and Frida are alone in an icy cold wasteland.

There's not even birds in the trees. Yet, now that Emma's straining her ears, she can hear the noises with crystal clear clarity.

She shivers as another freezing breeze cuts through her like a knife.

"I...I think it's coming from over there," Frida says, looking over at the clump of dense bushes over by the bins.

"Stay here," Emma says, wary of if it's some wild animal," I'll go and luck."

"Emma-"

"Stay here, Frida. I'll check it out."

She approaches the bushes carefully, slowly in case the animal jumps at her.

But there's no animal.

Just you.

"Emma?" Frida calls, watching as Emma lowers herself to her knees," What is it?"

Emma turns, a singular blanket in her hold and, in that blanket, is you.

"I...I think we need to call an ambulance," She says shakily," I-I think she's been abandoned."

You're tiny, smaller than any baby that Frida's ever seen before. You don't look good either. You're obviously freezing, little lips turning a concerning shade of purple and the cries from your mouth are getting quieter and quieter the longer you're outside.

Teammates clamber over themselves to help when Emma and Frida run in with you.

Somewhere along the way, Frida loses her top when it's clear that you're either nearly hypothermic or already developing it. Skin-to-skin seems to be what's best for you as you lay weakly on Frida's chest with layers of blankets over you both.

Now that she can see you properly, it's with a sinking feeling that she realises how underweight you actually are. You're nothing but skin and bones as Frida holds you close while they wait for the ambulance.

"They're calling her the Linköping baby," Emma says softly," The staff and the girls, that is. Word has spread pretty quickly."

"That's unfair," Frida replies, her own voice barely above a whisper as she feels your lungs inflate shakily against her," They can't call her that. She needs a name."

"They don't think she's going to survive," Emma says," Even before the ambulance gets here. She's in bad shape. They don't think she's going to make it."

"And you?" Frida finally tears her eyes away from you to look at her girlfriend. "What do you think?"

"I think..."

Your head barely pokes out from under all of the blankets, your eyes half open. You're not moving much. It seems to almost be too much effort to even breath, like everything in you is fighting to do something as basic and instinctual as that.

Emma didn't know what to expect when she looked in that bush. You were laying there, weak and unmoving in just a singular blanket and a thin onesie. One could almost mistake you for being asleep if it weren't from the stilted way your chest rose and fell and the way faint noises would escape your mouth every so often.

"I think...I think she's a fighter."

"I think so too."

Emma can tell what Frida's thinking before Frida herself even knows what she's thinking. She can tell by the way Frida's holding, you the way she's looking at you, the way she presses a soft kiss to the wispy hair at the top of your head.

Emma can tell because she's thinking the exact same thing.

"She looks like you," Emma says, starting off gently," Don't you think?"

Frida giggles a little bit. "I was thinking she had your nose. What part of her looks like me exactly?"

"Her hair, maybe," Emma says," And I'm sure once she opens this eyes of hers, they'll be like yours."

"You don't know that."

"I think I do."

"She might never open them," Frida says suddenly," If everyone is thinking she won't come out of this. They might never open."

"She will. She's a fighter."

Frida's throat bobs. "But if she doesn't...What would they even put on her grave? The Linköping baby?"

"You want to name her?"

"Everyone deserves a name. No matter how little they are."

"Then name her."

"I-"

"Ambulance is here," One of their teammates pokes their heads through the door," Medics are coming in now. They said to stay put."

"Y/N," Frida says suddenly.

"Huh?" Emma asks.

"She looks like a y/n."

You're tiny and malnourished and halfway to death's door. The possibility of you surviving the night is astronomically low.

But you have a name now and, in Emma's mind, you have a bedroom at home. A bedroom with a soft, warm crib and a dog companion who would just adore you. A bedroom in a house full of toys and soft clothes and two mothers who would adore you too.

A first name and a last name from the mothers who found you freezing cold in the dead of winter, buried in a bush as snow fell over you.

"Yeah," Emma says as the paramedics rush in," She does."

[adabird]

-MHA TEACHER’S + HERO’S

-PREFERENCESES + HEADCANNONS

Within the following story, there may be PROGRESSIVE or NSFW moments. Please be aware, you are responsible for your own internet consumption.

MDI

I was thinking about doing like LOV members preferences and headcannons!

ALSO thinking about writing singular headcannons for mha teachers? LET ME KNOW!

SHOTA AIZAWA - ERASERHEAD

-THICK THIGHS-

Shota is really into thick thighs.. He especially gets feral after a long day at work, when he’s come home to see you in panties and his t-shirt.. because you ‘missed him too much’ while he was away.. He’s always taking the seat next to you, needing and squishing your thighs while he talks. He also enjoys it whenever you sit infront of him, facing him while you drag your stocking clad feet up his legs.. Drives him ABSOLUTELY insane whenever he’s driving and you take one of his hands, into one of yours placing it on your thighs while caressing one of his fingers. And don’t even get started when you start to feel a little insecure. PAL. HE LOVESSSS your thighs so NO, he’s not going to leave you and he doesn’t want you to change. AT ALL!! you’re his baby ❤️

HAZASHI YAMANDA - PRESENTMIC

-BUBBLE BUTT-

Hazashi is freakyyyyy. Like, he’ll invite you to his studio while he’s recording, just to have you sit on his lap. shh you can’t make any noise though! He loves to look at your butt, admiring you, telling you that ‘it was looking at him first’ that’s why he was practically eye-fucking you.. (WOW MB) Anywho! He also loves pinching your butt whenever you two are in elevators, walking up stairs, standing next to each other, literally anytime.. He’s always on you or touching you, even in non-sexual ways. He’s just that kind of person, and that’s how he shows his love for you ❤️

TOSHINORI YAGI - ALLMIGHT

-TINY BOOBS-

Toshinori really has a size kink. LIKE. No matter how gigantic your jugs are, or how tall you are, you’ll look small standing next to him. And he also really has a thing for hands 😻.. LIKE! He’s always guiding you through walkways or hallways with a hand on your shoulders.. If you ever have makeout sessions he’s sure to lift you up, having you stratal his hips while he pushes you up to the nearest wall. AND BRO. I really feel like he has a secret wife/husband. AKA YOU. You would walk into U.A., going to his office to find him becuase ‘he forgot his lunch this morning’. It was really just a plan to have all his kids meet you. He’s also the one to get really horny really easily!! Especially if you run your hands through his hair..❤️

NEMURI KAYAMA - MIDNIGHT

-LIPS-

GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. GIRL. She’s always got some part of her, touching you. She’s the type of person to just sit there and admire the way you talk, watching as your lips change shape to form whatever story you’re telling at the moment. She loves watching the blush crawl up your neck after she crashed your face into hers, pushing you to make out with her. She also gets jealous really easily, which causes her to constantly grab at your hips and neck.

RUMI USAGIYAMA - MIRKO

-ARMS-

OKAY! Rumi is definitely the dominant one in the relationship.. She has a thing for arms, but her own..? Like she loves wrapping you into hugs, tugging you into her like a pillow. She’s also really into your confidence.. The number one thing she enjoys to do with her arms would probably be pushing you up a wall while making out. It gets you both really turned on and gets the situation all steamy.. Before the two of you started your relationship, and were ‘just friends’ she was really into cornering you in the bathroom stalls, before making her way to kiss up your neck. (IN A CONSENSUAL WAY!!!) ❤️

TAMAKI KEIGO - HAWKS

-HIPS-

Keigo is really like a bird, so when his ruts come up, he has to consider your body, in terms of, ‘are you able to hold his baby’s’ ‘are your hip’s wide enough’ ‘are your hips narrow enough’ ‘do you want little birdies’? all really good questions. But he really loves to hold and to kiss your hips. Whether they’re wide, narrow, or if they carry love handles or not.. He doesn’t care! He loves YOU and your body, no matter what! He’s definitely always searching for your validation, and he’s always grooming himself to your standerds.. He makes sure you take care of yourself too , and are always feeling comfortable in your own skin..❤️

TAISHRIO TOYOMITSU - FATGUM

-TUMMY-

GAWD!!! My man, my man.. OKAY! Taishiro is really all about body positivity, and imidetly attracted to someone with a funny personality. Personally, I believe he tends to find chubby, and thicker people more attractive! But, he does go for personality!!! So dont be discouraged! He really likes laying on your tummy, and squeezing it.. He makes sure you love your body too! and makes sure you feel confident in your own skin! He eats a lot, and so will you.. But he also makes sure that you feel safe whenever you go out. He’s definitely the type of walk on the outside of the sidewalk, and the type to take the seat faced by the door in case of any attacks! ❤️

I hope you enjoyed! And PLEASE!!! Message me any ideas for any MHA characters you would like to see!! I don’t judge!

Later tonight I will be releasing a Monoma x Reader reaction! So stay tuned!

- ONIE OUT!

[let-roman-bite-someone]

alright now here are the sanders sides bloopers quotes that live rent-free in my head:

“I'd like to call my next witness to the stand. VIRGIIIIIIILLLL~”

“Your most extreme reaction is an eyebrow raise— is an OYbrow raise.” “OY LOGAN-”

“I'm a pretty pretty bird!”

“What the fuh?”

“Oh my gosh, Deceit, is this yours?” *casually flips Janus off*

“One. Singular Sensation.”

“I know nothing!” *falls out of chair like the baby lawyer he is*

“Look, ma. I'm on TV.”

*in Voldemort voice* “Do you ever feel~ like a tiny baby corpse~?”

“Where are your kids, Patton? WHERE ARE YOUR KIDS??”

“I'm waiting for the others to show up so I can scare them right out of my pants.”

tell me yours!

[ghoulodont]

Cardiac Action Potential

The birds and the bees, for a ghoul, are the tria prima and a human sacrifice.

Relationship: None... yet Characters: Dewdrop, Rain Words: 1.3k

Read below or on AO3

Six ghouls wait silently at the locked door of the chapel. On the schedule tonight is the summoning of a singular addition to their lineup, a bass player.

Originally, it was a lead guitar ghoul that the group needed, but the clergy had noted Dewdrop’s proficiency on the guitar, his drive to learn an instrument he wasn’t summoned to play, and offered him an opportunity. After some deliberation, it was decided. The lead guitar ghoul role was filled, and the bass ghoul role was empty.

Dew liked the old lead guitar ghoul, and they had great chemistry together onstage. But he wasn’t continuing with the band. That’s life, Dew supposes. Or, that’s undeath, or however a ghoul’s state of being should be classified.

Regardless, because of this change of plans, the final summoning of this iteration of the band had been slightly delayed. Now that it was confirmed they did indeed need a new bass ghoul, they are ready to proceed.

Eventually the door creaks open, pulled back by a single sister of sin. When the ghouls enter, she closes the door behind them and twists the deadbolt shut with a heavy thunk.

Inside is a chapel designated specifically for summoning. It’s rarely used, but immaculately maintained. If you were to see it between rituals — and you wouldn’t, unless you were tasked with its upkeep, because it’s otherwise kept securely locked — you would hardly know its purpose. One of the only subtle hints is the coffin shape of the stone altar at the center of the raised sanctuary.

Another is the circle surrounding it, painted on the floor with something dark red, its circumference lined with intricate sigils. That might be a hint too.

The altar is bare, pristine, except for six black candles, flames glowing steadily, one at each corner. Copia stands at its head, hands clasped behind him.

Copia, only a cardinal, taking on the role of a pope. It’s all very non-traditional, but it’s not like Dew has much experience with anything else. It’s not the only atypical feature of this summoning, anyway.

The ghouls file into the pews along one side of the sanctuary. The matching pews across from them remain empty. The small nave is mostly empty too, save for a row of sisters.

When the ghouls sit, Copia nods to the sisters, who proceed up the single step into the sanctuary and make their way to the altar. Each of them holds a ritual item, cradled carefully in two hands.

Dew has seen all of this before. He just recently saw it three times in quick succession. It doesn’t get any easier to watch. He’s not sure what the purpose of the existing ghouls’ presence is anyway. It must just be tradition.

The necessary items for the ritual were prepared beforehand, ingredients carefully measured into their own little containers, oddly like the mise-en-place of a cooking show on TV. The first three sisters each hand a small bowl to the cardinal. He takes them, one at a time, and pours the contents of each onto the altar, along its long axis, each reagent in its own place.

The first is a fine yellow powder, a tiny, dusty mountain on the stone surface — sulfur.

The second is a shiny, slippery liquid, forming a little round puddle — mercury.

The third is a white and crystalline substance, pebbles of it tumbling down the sides of its pile — salt.

The penultimate sister is holding a black wooden box, intricately carved and inlaid with gold. She lifts away the lid and Copia removes from it a human heart, which he places on the altar, two thirds from the top, at its widest point.

The final sister hands him a chalice filled with a deep red liquid. This, Dew has been told, is blood, once belonging to someone who is now no longer alive.

Briefly, Copia holds the chalice aloft. Then he lowers it and pours its contents across the altar in a wide, splattering stripe, drenching it and all of the prepared items upon it. The liquid spreads, rivulets reaching the edge of the altar and running down its sides to the floor.

There is a tense beat of silence. Then, the salt sizzles, the mercury bubbles, and the sulfur erupts into bright blue flame.

When the reaction fades, the reagents are gone. The only thing left on the altar is the heart, unmarred. The chapel is silent and still, as if maybe that’s all that will happen, and it’s already over.

But, moments later, the main event begins. Blood vessels sprout from the top of the heart and grow, snaking, across the altar. They twist and branch into a vaguely humanoid shape, a shadow over the stone.

Individual organs congeal, wet and shiny, each budding from nothing and blooming into something recognizable — lungs, liver, kidneys. A brain. Ducts and vessels reach out to one another.

Bones form, the biggest ones first. They start out spindly like twigs and grow in length and diameter, creaking as they expand. They lie disjoint from each other, draped over the existing viscera in a loose semblance of a skeleton. As the first ligaments are created, they begin to pull together. Arms slide into shoulders, legs into hips. Ribs attach to a sternum and vault over the organs of the chest cavity.

Muscle and sinew forms, layer by layer, a macabre, meaty papier-mâché. As flesh connects to bone, the ghoul twitches. His limbs jerk unceremoniously, like a marionette.

One of his flailing arms knocks a candle off the altar and onto the marble floor of the sanctuary. Hot wax pools under it, but the flame continues to burn, rising perpendicular from the wick.

He lets out a low, breathy groan, whatever air was in his lungs pushed out by the contraction of his brand new diaphragm.

Final layers of adipose and skin cover his raw, exposed tissue. As all of his bodily systems come together he continues to twitch, smaller movements but more of them now, until he’s almost vibrating.

Then he flops limp on the altar, motionless.

Copia reaches down and feels for the new ghoul’s pulse, placing two fingers into the juncture between his neck and his jaw. When he nods, the waiting sisters flurry over to lift the ghoul’s body off the altar. As two of them raise his upper body into a seated position, his head first lolls back and then snaps forward, like he’s suddenly awake. His eyes fall open.

Dew watches him take a deep, gasping breath. His first.

Two more sisters join to help pull him up until he’s standing. A fifth drapes a blanket over his shoulders. He’s taller than all of them. The sister with the blanket stands on her tiptoes.

They lead him to sit on the opposite side of the sanctuary. If he were summoned when he was supposed to be, he would be sitting among other newborn ghouls. Instead, he’s alone. At least he doesn’t have to sit through any more summonings right now, to witness his first and only memory as an outside observer before he’s had any chance to get his bearings.

No, Dew wouldn’t wish that experience on anyone.

Dew isn’t listening while Copia says the closing rite. He’s watching the new ghoul. His replacement, yet he’s still here to witness this. It hasn’t ever happened before, at least not that he’s aware of.

The ghoul is pulling his blanket around himself. His head is drooping forward slightly, like it’s too heavy for him to hold up. He’s breathing hard enough that Dew can see the rise and fall of his shoulders from the other side of the sanctuary. When Copia dismisses them all, the sisters return to his side and help him file out of the chapel with everyone else.

Tonight, they will go their separate ways. This new ghoul will be whisked off for further initiation rituals, and then closely monitored for a few days as he builds strength in his new body.

Dew watches as he’s led down the hall in the opposite direction. He looks like a baby deer, unsteady in an endearing sort of way. Something about his proportions adds to the image — he’s all legs under his blanket.

As they turn the corner and continue out of sight, Dew wonders what his name will be.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Blessed Heir of the Abyss (Abyssal Prince Childe x Reader) Part 5

Synopsis: After centuries of conflict, Teyvat and the Abyss are attempting to make peace with one another. To solidify new alliances and let go of past grudges, the Abyssal Prince Tartaglia will choose a spouse from the people above to rule over the Abyss with him.

That spouse happens to be you, an ordinary, Visionless citizen of Liyue.

Chapter Four: Of Stone and Scales

Previous | Next

Warnings: Descriptions of illness and pain, allusions to crying and fevers, coughing, SLOW BURN

~ * ~ “What a conundrum this is…” Through the haze and smoke of your fever comes a gentle press against your forehead, the touch of soft and delicate hands ghosting over your skin like a butterfly’s wings. They’re cold- too cold, at first, and you flinch away- but the chill turns soothing against the heat of your sickness, and you let out an instinctive sigh of relief as the neverending pain recedes, even just slightly. The same careful touch holds the back of your head and lifts it upwards, prompting you to sip from a small ceramic bowl. You comply without a thought, barely tasting the sharp bitterness of the liquid as it slides down your throat, and those wonderfully gentle hands settle your head back down onto a plush pillow before pulling away. Your brow furrows as panic rises in your chest, wanting desperately to reach for and take hold of this singular moment of comfort, to bask in its sunshine forever. Please, stay. “Honestly, what were they thinking, bringing a mortal from Teyvat to the Abyss? The elemental whiplash…” A steady voice cuts through your distress like a knife, and the knot in your stomach unravels. Just barely you can place the sound of footsteps on wood, delicate clinks of glass and pottery, and dried leaves being crushed together. “…It’s enough to make an Adeptus seriously ill, much less a human.” In the sludge of your consciousness you open your mouth to speak, only to fail and let out a few awful, wracking coughs. Fail… yes. That’s all you seem to do now. The murmurings pause, soft taps of shoes growing a bit louder, and a cool hand rests on your arm, now speaking directly to you, “Rest, my friend… you’ll need your strength.” They squeeze your arm; once, twice, and what little vision you have fades as you drift down into a murky ocean of silence. A child laughs, her swing creaking, and a tiny green flower blooms from your fingertips. Everything blurs together as you return to nothingness. It’s the light that you sense first, shining through your closed eyes and filling the void with colors. You groan, shifting and pulling the covers over your ears in an earnest attempt to snatch a few more minutes of sleep, the bed cushioning your sore, aching joints. But the light merely shines brighter, birds twittering and giggling at your plight, and with a hiss of annoyance you relent to their joyous whims. Your eyes crack open and stare into the morning Harbor sun. With a gasp you fling yourself into a sitting position, only to double over as you cough and hack, tears springing to your eyes from the force, breath coming out as sharp wheezes. “Ah, you’re awake- Oh dear.” Someone hurries into the room to sit beside you, pressing a hand to your back and rubbing it up and down. “Let it out, my friend, you’ll feel much better afterwards.”

You take the advice in stride, coughing and coughing until your head spins and your shoulders shake and you’re absolutely sure that you’re going to faint- but you don’t, and slowly the coughs fade away until you can breathe, gratefully inhaling a lungful of air. “There… how do you feel?” You turn and blink in surprise for what seems like the hundredth time this week, gaze landing on a familiar, green-haired figure. “D… Dr. Baizhu?” His snakeish eyes shine with delight, golden and amber and fire-colored, “Ah, you remember me! Good, that means your mental faculties are intact, at the very least.” “How couldn’t I?” You let out a laugh, hoarse but happy. “You’re the best pharmacist in Liyue! Zhongli talks about you all the time- he always recommends your herbal remedies if I have a sore throat.” Baizhu chuckles quietly, “He does, does he? Well, I certainly won’t disagree with him on that.” The jewels hanging from his glasses glimmer, and you have to stifle the urge to reach out and bat at them like a cat. There’s a squeaky yawn from a table across the room, and Baizhu glances towards the sound with a smile, “Ah, Changsheng.” He walks to the table, picking up a scaly white bundle in his arms. “I don’t think you two have met. This is Changsheng, my treasured companion- Changsheng, say hello to our guest.” The sleepy little snake raises her head, and you give her a small, hesitant wave. “Ah,” You jump slightly at her voice, her tongue flicking towards your hand. “This one is sick, aren’t they?” Baizhu nods, eyes darkening, “Yes, they are.” He sits beside you again, Changsheng slithering up to his shoulders and peering at you curiously. “Your mind seems to be undamaged, but…” he sighs. “…I am uncertain about the rest of you.” You stiffen, fingers weakly curling into your blanket, “Dr. Baizhu… What exactly happened to me? Why am I in Liyue? And why-” You’re abruptly cut off by a cough, and Baizhu hurriedly pats your back. 

“The short story is that the energy and atmosphere of the Abyss caused you to fall ill,” he explains carefully. “Mortals of Teyvat and the Abyss do not mix- it’s an entirely foreign land to us, and the sudden change between above and below was too much for your body.” Baizhu’s expression turns grim, “The stress of your particular situation also did nothing to help.” “Oh,” You swallow thickly, your throat like sandpaper, then straighten your back with some effort. “What’s the cure, doctor?” “Rest, mostly. Preferably somewhere familiar and nonthreatening.” Baizhu smiles, a small pair of fangs peeking over his lips. “And please, call me Baizhu.” He sighs, quietly, “You’re quite lucky that you were only down there for a few days, my dear. Give it a week, and I likely wouldn’t have been able to save you.” You glance up curiously, “That reminds me, er- how did I get back to Liyue, exactly? Did someone have to drag my unconscious body up here?” “Ah, well-” “Your Highness!” The door bursts open, and Enjou ducks his head to float into the room. “Are you alright?! I apologize for not coming to your aid sooner, I fell asleep.” “Enjou?!” Your mouth hangs open in shock, then you burst into laughter that quickly devolves into coughing. “You- ahem- you brought me here?” “That he did.” Baizhu nods, holding you as you hack out a lung. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to see an Abyss Lector at my door, especially not at 1 AM.” “I am sorry about that.” Enjou bows his head. “It was an urgent matter, doctor.” “My dear sir, there’s no need to apologize! I’m very glad you got here when you did.” Enjou nods, hovering beside Baizhu, a bit awkward and out of place. He’s still wearing his glasses, you notice, and take a few quick glances between the Lector and the pharmacist. They almost mirror each other, in a way, with their glasses and elegance and worry for you.

“So, when do you think I can take them back to the Abyss?” Enjou breaks the silence after a few moments, and Changsheng lets out a low hiss. Baizhu clicks his tongue and shakes his head, gently stroking Changsheng’s scales, “Not for a while, I’m afraid. This whole situation is, frankly, a mess.” He gives Enjou a stern look over the top of his glasses. “They will need at least a couple of weeks to recuperate, and no less.” The Lector nods silently, his warm glow filling the room, “I will… see what I can do. The others of the Court are not going to like this.” “Enjou,” your voice is soft and scratchy. “I don’t want to die.” His tear-shaped eyes gleam kindly, and he delicately pats your shoulder with his claws, “You won’t, I’ll make sure of it. I’ll talk to the other members of the Court- they might be old fools, but they’re not entirely unreasonable.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, “I’ll agree with the old fool part.” Suddenly there’s a few quick knocks on the pharmacy door, and Baizhu tilts his head over his shoulder, “Ah, I might know who that is…” His quiet footsteps trail away, leaving you and Enjou in the bright, sunlit room, and you stare at the beams of light filtering through the windows. You’ve forgotten how beautiful it is, to see the dust float in the sun, casting patterns onto the floor, the comfort of being home warming your aching bones. The room smells of sweet flowers and bitter herbs and mint, and your eyes slide shut as you inhale, just barely able to catch the scent of rain and lilies from outside, splashes of bright colors dancing and swirling about. Familiarity washes over you, and you smile. “I should apologize for earlier,” Enjou’s voice pulls you out of your daydream, and you look up at him curiously. “I called you “Your Highness” in my panic over your state. I am sorry.” The Lector bows to you deeply as he speaks, somehow making himself seem smaller despite being twice your height. “Oh, it’s okay! To be honest, I was too busy choking to notice.” You smile tiredly. “Thank you… thank you for remembering, though. And for bringing me here. And for being nice to me.” Your thoughts spill from your mouth, one by one, a swift current rushing down a river.

“But of course! It is my honor to assist you, truly.” Enjou’s aura flares a bit brighter at your words. “And if it is of any help, I also apologize for my colleagues’ behavior so far. Including the Prince’s.” His voice lowers to a hiss. “He despises this as much as you do, but that is no excuse to treat you so poorly.” You feel your cheeks grow warm- warmer than they already are- and quickly cast your gaze to the blanket, thoughts tangled and muddled together, “Thanks, Enjou.” is all you can mumble, the thought of Tartaglia sending a fresh stab of fear and anger into your heart, your fists tightening around the fabric of your covers. “My dear,” Baizhu calls from the hallway, poking his head in with a satisfied smile, and the harsh fire in your chest dies down to an ember. “You have visitors.” As soon as he speaks a brown and crimson blur rushes towards you, dashing past Enjou and leaping onto your bed, “YOU NINCOMPOOP!!!” Hu Tao throws her familiar arms around you, already bawling her eyes out. “The first time I let you go somewhere without me and you almost end up dead! I may be a funeral parlor director, but your funeral isn't one I want to plan anytime soon!” Her grip tightens as she sobs into your shoulder, signature hat tumbling to the ground. “I didn’t exactly plan it!” You gasp through her stifling squeezes. “It just sort of… happened.” Your own hug feels weak and frail in comparison to hers, even more so than usual, and Hu Tao slaps her hands onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “That is no excuse! Swear to me that you won’t die! Promise! Pinkie promise!” “Okay, okay! I promise!” Your head spins as she abruptly stops shaking you to look you right in the eyes, her fiery pupils filled with flowers and tears. “Good! And you better keep that promise, or else I won’t have anyone to sample my cooking or watch me destroy Xingqiu in poetry!” Hu Tao grins at you, but her eyes are dead serious, and you gulp nervously and nod. “And YOU!” Her head snaps towards Enjou. “You’re one of those creeps that took my best friend away! Why, I ought to lock you in a coffin and-” “Hu Tao!” You grab her arm, half coughing and half giggling. “He’s a friend, too, I swear!”

“Really?” She observes Enjou up and down, from the tips of his crown-like horns to his feet hovering off the ground. “Hmph, if you say so… but I’m keeping an eye on you!” Enjou raises his hands helplessly as she glares, glancing from you to Hu Tao and back again pleadingly, and you muffle a snicker. “She’s not the only one,” A deep, smooth voice emits from the doorway and you perk up, a wide smile spreading across your face as you meet Zhongli’s gaze, his presence casting a blanket of calm serenity over the room. “I will also be watching you closely, Lector.” Enjou straightens his back and bows, “Ah, hello Mor-” “Zhongli. Just Zhongli.” The man in question strides over, sitting in a chair by your bedside, long legs elegantly crossed. “I’m glad to see you are alright, little one,” Zhongli murmurs. “Well, mostly alright.” “It’s nice to see you too, Zhongli,” you whisper, and his gloved hands brush over yours to hold them firmly, heavy and comforting like the stones of Liyue Harbor. The corners of his lips are just barely turned up, but his draconic eyes glitter with warmth- for a moment, he almost appears tearful, but it quickly settles into pride and relief. “Gah, quit hogging, old man!” Hu Tao quickly latches onto your other arm, plopping her chin onto your shoulder with a pout. “You’ll have plenty of time to catch up with them while I’m busy helping our clients!” “He will?” You crane your head towards Hu Tao, blinking in confusion. “Of course, silly-billy! Baizhu says that you have to stay and recover for at least a few weeks- right, doc?” She glances up as the bespectacled pharmacist moves to stand beside Zhongli, and both he and Changsheng nod. “It’d be best for your health, my dear.” “Oh,” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, feeling lighter than air. “That’s good, then.” Like the flick of a switch you fall back into a familiar routine, Hu Tao launching into a detailed play-by-play of what you missed while you were withering away in the Abyss, including her rap battle with Xingqiu and Captain Beidou taking everyone out for a joyride on the Alcor- not that it was very joyful without you, she insists. You bite your tongue to stifle a laugh when she goes off on a tangent about how Yanfei dropped her enormous law book on her foot when she received news of your departure- “Nothing broke, but it sure felt like something did!”- and Zhongli lets out a low chuckle at the funeral parlor director’s antics, a hand on your back in case you start coughing again. At some point Enjou tilts his head and excuses himself, bowing once to you and once more to the rest of the room before floating away like crackling fire.

Hu Tao sticks her tongue out as he leaves, and you flick her on the forehead, movements still clumsy from sickness. “Oh, and you have to come to Wuwang Hill with me and Chongyun! I’ve heard that there are some departed souls still hanging around, so I want to-” “Director,” Zhongli’s calming voice breaks through her chatter. “It may be best to wait until they’re feeling a little bit better.” You nod sheepishly, “Sorry, Hu Tao. I don’t think I could make it to the Harbor entrance right now, much less Wuwang Hill.” “Aww.” Hu Tao looks sulky, tugging at the ends of her long pigtails. “But the city’s sooo boring! I’m sure we can work something out-” “Excuse me.” Enjou hurries back into the room, and Hu Tao puffs out her cheeks, annoyed at being interrupted again. “I know this is most likely a bad time, but…” The Lector hesitates, and you frown in concern. “But what, Enjou?” He sighs and meets your gaze, reluctant and apologetic, “His Highness is here. He wishes to speak with his spouse.”

[wolfiemcwolferson]

if you’ll be my star | 14k one shot | Piarles

Pierre has dedicated his life to this singular thing and The Society is about to write his name next to the few other scientists who were patient like him - who were dedicated like him. The names of the people that inspired him, the stories of men who had been sailing or mountaineering. Who lived in tiny cabins like he did.

Pierre will be one of them.

“Come on, Leo.” He calls to Leo, trying to keep it from bursting out of his chest - the feeling of accomplishment - as he takes off in a jog for the treeline. “Let us make history.”

Or, Charles falls and Pierre finds him.

A gift fic for beloved @teamnick based on the song Boats & Birds by Gregory and The Hawk.

[xoluvx]

buenos días mami - young miko fic

the sun’s light illuminates your face as it peeks through the window, causing you to stir in your sleep. there’s a weight on top of your waist, preventing you from going anywhere. you open your eyes to see miko’s face, so peacefully content as you sleep, and it refreshes your memory of all the sinful activities you both partook in the night before. a small smile graces your face as you feel her soft breaths on your forehead, and you nuzzle your face more into her neck, basking in her warmth. your eyes stick on the bird that adorns her neck, with the tiny ‘att.’ print beneath it.

your lips are drawn to it, and you press feather-light kisses to the wings, slowly kissing your way down the rest of the bird. miko stirs at your touch, subconsciously tilting her neck in a way that gives you more access, and you kiss your way down to the printed letters on her skin.

kissing the ‘att.’ print wasn’t enough for you, however, you wanted more. so you traced it with your tongue. even in her sleeping state your girlfriend was just so edible, so you felt like you had no choice but to lightly nibble on each individual letter, soothing the slight ache with your tongue afterwards.

your hungry actions didn’t go unnoticed at this point, and you feel miko’s hands travel further down your body, eventually reaching your ass, which she gives a little squeeze, alerting you of her now-awake state.

“buenos días, mami” she rasps out, distracted by the pleasure your mouth was giving her. “what a lovely thing to wake up to”

you kiss up to her jaw, before kissing your way to her chin, and then making your way up to her lips, giving them a quick peck. you start to trace the face and clouds that are inked into her pale skin, while she starts to massage your ass, getting more turned on by the second. even the singular kiss wasn’t enough, and she captured your lips once again, with a sudden burst of energy that she didn’t have prior. miko pulls you fully to straddle her waist, never breaking the kiss, until you disconnect your lips and move towards the arm you were tracing. your lips now replaced the feather-light touches that your fingertips left, and you revel in the slight whimpers and moans that leave her lips as you make your way down her arm. your lips make it all the way down to her fingertips, before you wrap your plump lips around her index and middle finger, wetting them with your tongue, as miko watches you enamored. she’s in complete disbelief that she managed to get with someone that exceeds her expectations time and time again, but what she does know is that this round might be better than last night. what a great way to wake up, if she does say so herself

-🥸

please you've blessed me and i cannot gatekeep. i love you?? and this ?? pleaseeee !!

[festive-spiderbot]

[tastefulyongbokie]

Yellow Pencil ; FELIX x READER ; MINORS DNI !

LEGEND …

🎬Rating - 🖤Pairing - 🎀Genre - ⚠️Warnings

🖤Non-idol!Felix x Fem!Reader, established relationship

🎀fluff, sickeningly sweet smut

🎬 explicit, oneshot

⚠️ SMUT, pervert reader tbh sleepy morning sex, soft dom Felix, probs the sweetest smut you’ll read, neck kisses, hickeys, marking, obsessive nature (just squint), body worshipping, oral sex (f receiving), reader gets emotional during sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), tiny bit of overstimulation, creampie, fluffy aftercare

Synopsis : a singular pencil lended to you in highschool started this friendship that became a long lasting relationship.

A/N: I thought about this while working and I had a yellow led pencil in my hand lmao

“ah! F-fuck! Felix!” a loud moan ripped through your throat as Felix pounded into your tight hole.

“say my name again baby” he said as the grip he had in your hips was so tight. You felt you mind going numb from the way he pushed your legs up to your chest and continued to pound you into the mattress. Each thrust had you riding up the bed. Your head was foggy all you could focus on was his deep groans that had you clenching around his cock. His hand was brought over to your slicked juicy cunt. His fingers began to rub your clit sending electric shocks through your body. A bright light was in your eyes.

The Morning sun flooded through the white curtains draping over the window sill. The brightness bouncing off of the curtains and onto the duvet that had two love birds tangled into one another. Soon enough the sun glared right onto a certain someone’s eyes. You whined as y eyes slowly opened to see a freckled face. He let out a groan from the light hitting his face, almost waking him. He did not want to get up. He wanted to lay in your embrace til death. Unfortunately that’s impossible which is why he cherishes each moment with you. Hearing his deep groan made you slowly open your eyes from the most pleasant dream you were witnessing. You were just having a wet dream about the angel laying right in front of you. Another one of his groans leave his mouth making you bite your lip and rub your thighs together feeling wet pool form between your legs. You let out a whine as you cuddled further into his chest wrapping your legs around his. Your hips gently rutted against his leg in a desperate attempt to get pleasurable satisfaction. You're such a pervert. Being so dirty next to the boy that never did anything like this to you. He respected your space and always have. Even before you two dated he put a barrier for himself not to think like a hormonal teenager. You on the other hand are being desperate and perverted. Felix would have never guessed handing you that yellow pencil in school would get him where he is today. You kept thinking from that moment on when you two got closer, you thought about your first time and so much more. Your thighs getting tighter around his own your quiet whines were cut off by a hand gripping your hips and a deep voice whispered in your ear.

“if my baby was so desperate, why didn't she wake me hm? ” he raised a brow and nibbled on your ear lobe. Your face turned completely red not uttering a word. Felix's hand gripped your ass and tilted his head.

“Keep going baby, I wanna see how much of a whore you make yourself for me” he said. His morning voice was so hot, ragged, tired and dragged out. His thick Australian accent and his voice lowering a few octaves than normal. It had you weak, you pathetically rutted against him making his chuckle. He flipped you over onto your back as his hands travelrd from your thighs and up to your cheeks.

“pretty baby embarrassed now? ” he smirked evilly knowing damn well what effect he has on you. His hands traveled up the white t-shirt you had on. He caressed each part of your body underneath before fully removing it. He placed kisses from your tummy all the way up to the black laced bra you had on.

“so so so pretty baby.. All mine yea? ” he smirked as you nodded and he unclipped your bra removing it from the bed completely as he leaned down to give your breasts attention they've needed. Kissing and sucking on your nipples. Whispering the sweetest things to you as he did so. He left hickies around your breast and a few on your tummy.

“all mine” he murmured and kissed up to your lips. His collieded with yours. Soon your tongues were in each other's mouth. He rubbed up and down your hips giving them a gentle squeeze from time to time before he pulled away from you. He was such a God. He was beautiful no matter what. Little do you know that's how he sees you too. He kissed down your lips to your neck to your breast to your thighs to meet the damp black laced under wear you had on. He couldn't help himself but to bury his nosy into the plush wet cloth. He smirked as he felt how wet it was. How he could smell your juicys practically dripping. He licked a stripe up the clothing and pulled them off. You slightly shivered at the way the cold air hit your warm soaking pussy. Felix bit his lip nearly moaning at the sight. He leaned in and the cold which was once there was now warm due to Felix's breath against your cunt.

“such a pretty pussy, all for me baby right? You're all wet just for me” he groaned placing a kiss right on the lips of your pussy before gently sliding his tongue between your folds.

“y-yes y-yours Lixie” you whimpered. He tongue dove into your cunt and he ate you like he was starving for weeks on end. Loud slurping and moans were bouncing of the walls as echoes. You arched you back and clasped your thighs around Felix's head. His nails dig into your thighs licking and slurping.

“come on baby, do it for me” he groaned and gently nibbled your clit before kissing and licking it. He pushed in two fingers curling then up as he thrusted them in and out of your cunt. Making you feel like an electric shock coursed through your body. Which brought you to your high. You arched your back and bucked you hips to his face crying out his name. Felix looked up as he kept thrusting his fingers in and out.

“that's it baby, just like that” he cooed at the way you whined coming down from that high. He slowly removed his fingers and put them in his mouth sucking off your slick from his fingers. he leaned down and kissed you making you taste yourself.

“I love you so much baby” he said kissing your neck and pecking your lips once more. He removed his pants which had his cock in a confinement. It finally was able to spring free. You felt as if your mouth was watering.

“I love you too” you said looking drunkenly into his eyes. You were sober, you just woken up, but you were drunk on him. Felix leaned in on top of you his cock lining up with your entrance. His tip prodding at your soaked plush folds. His eyes were locked into yours and his forehead pressed against yours. He slowly sunk his girth into you. You whined out from how sensitive you already were. You reached up for Felix for comfort. He took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers together. Soon he bottomed out inside you and you both let out a pleasurable moan. This was one of the most intimate moments you've had together. Just making love, Felix's favourite thing to do with you.

“you're so pretty angel, so so pretty” he praised and kissed your neck rubbing your hips gently. You whined and looked into his eyes your pussy clenching around his girth tightly. Felix bit his lip and almost collapsed on top of you. He gripped your hands.

“i-i can't move baby, you're clenching too tight” he groaned as he nibbled onto your ear. He slowly pistoned in and out of your cunt gently. His pelvis making contact with your slicked clit. You bit your lip making Felix shake his head.

“no no baby open up, let me hear you” he groaned out and you whimpered out a whine. Tears slowly flooding your eyes. Felix looked up and kissed away your tears. “you're crying baby? ” he asked worriedly.

“i-i just love you so much” you whimpered and kissed his lips to which he returned rocking his hips against yours.

“I love you too angel,” he moaned out softly. You loved hearing his moans they were a blessing. In contrast to his deep groans and grunts his moans are so gentle and whiny it turns you on and he knows it. His hips started to pick up the pace his eyes still locked on yours. He thruster deep into you making you whine. You removed your hands from his and reached up to put your fingers in his hair gently gripping onto his soft blonde locks. From the slight hair pulling Felix let out a moan of pleasure as you pulled your body closer against his. You're now skin to skin with the love of your life. His thrusts slowed down and he began to gently rock his hips in and out of your cunt. His pelvis making direct contact with your clothes sending electricity through your body. You let out a moan of his name signalling Felix you might be close and he was right when you started to clench down around his girth.

“C-Cumming! F-felix! ” you whined out with a loud moan following your legs wrapped around Felix's waist pulling him in deeper to which pushed your legs off his waist and spread them wider he began to pound into your pussy you swore you saw stars as you rolled your eyes back your hands began to search for Felix and he realized so he grabbed your hand and moaned softly.

“Fuck baby I'm here let loose babygirl” he groaned as he threw his head back. This was a sight to see. His sweat glistened in the morning sun as his tongue licked his lips his salvia making them shine as he let out a whiny moan. You didn't even realize until everything began to glow brighter and your vision became blurry. Felix continued to fuck you through the best orgasm of your life. He began to slow down and cup your cheeks. His body stilled careful not to move as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

“that's it baby come back to me come on” he smiled breathlessly as you sighed softly wrapping your arms around his neck.

“you did so good for me” he praised making you smile and press your lips against his.

“I'm so glad you gave me that pencil” you said making Felix confused until it clicked. It was true you wouldn't be where you are if it weren't for Felix handing you a simple yellow pencil in high school.

“I'm glad I did too” he smiled kissing down your body before reaching your lower lips where he licked and sucked the extra juices from your pussy making you squirm. He came back up and kissed you tasting both of your juices and his saliva. He smiled as he pulled away.

“let's get cleaned hm? ” he scooped you into his arms bridal style off the bed and into the bathroom. You couldn't have asked for anyone better. A man who takes care of you in pleasure and affection. He gave you a warm bubble bath pampering you with kisses and affection. He even made you your favorite dish afterwards and cuddled you while you ate.

It's a wonder how a singular friendly gesture in high school led you to the euphoric paradise you call home who is Lee Felix.

All because of a yellow pencil.

---

© tastefulyongbokie | please don't steal/copy thank you

[gl1tch3doracle]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ twilight showers ˖ ࣪⊹

First oneshot, so ofc I had to do the queen of cool herself, Quanxi. I'm absolutely weak for this woman.

➸ Quanxi + !Fem!Reader

➸ Word count; 2,093 words,

➸ Y'know, probably set sometime during part 2, but I wouldn't know when. No major spoilers aside from the fiends.

➸ No content warnings either. Just some hurt/comfort ♡ (Although I would say it's been a little while since I've written something, so it might be a little wonky 'cause I'm rusty). Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

Night befallen - Twinkling lights across a rather solemn concrete jungle, all blurred by the flurry of raindrops pinstriping against a benumbing glass pane. From up in your apartment, it all seemed like a well-put-together maze of harrowing misfortunes that seemed to follow almost every citizen of Kyoto. Somewhere down there was a family ruined by a devil attack, a partner mourning their lost loved one, children crying because their friends had been ripped away without explanation. All events that could happen to you at a moment's notice - The coin could flip and land heads up, and it would be lights out before you might even notice.

That was a thought that occasionally tickled your brain. Every few weeks or so, most likely foretold by a day's event. It could've been a devil attack that jostled your mind - or even just a shitty day at work. It always came at night specifically, though, which was absolutely perfect when you were trying to get to sleep.

It was sad to think about, the way people's lives were cut clean on such short notice, which is why you tried not to do that all too often. That wasn't as easy as it sounded, especially when, unlike the others who had to live with their chosen reality, you were pretty safe and well-off all things considered. It manifested in a welt of guilt swelling in your chest, and that was the reason when night fell like it had fallen all those times before, you still slept on and off, swaddled up in your bed.

No nightmares plagued you and no misfortune befell you, because you were wholly safe - Especially when you were wrapped in the arms of your girlfriend. Someone would have to be an idiot to attempt on your life; Devil, human or fiend, it didn't matter, because Quanxi would cut them down with scary proficiency like she'd done so many times in the past.

That was most nights, anyway. The warm feeling of safety and Quanxi would not lull you to sleep tonight. The bed was empty and cold, blankets strewn over the edge, pillows tossed and tucked under your head and over your arm. It wasn't that rare for Quanxi to be stuck deep in the alleyways working, but it didn't make you feel any less lonely.

Outside, the storm grew heavier. The windows rattled.

Every time the rain stuck your window, every time the wind pulled against the structure of your building, every time a piercing howl or screech cut through the veil, you felt yourself flinch into the comfort of your plush duvet. You were safe, that you knew, but it was an instinct in every human to fear devils or something. At least, it felt instinctual for you, because being scared of creatures and beings that craved your pain sort've felt natural.

Although, among the melody of the stormed city, there was another sound hidden amongst all the others. Beyond the furious tapping of the rain, the whirling of the wind, the honks of traffic and whatever far-away noises plagued the world surrounding you, there was one, tiny, sharp sound that ricocheted in your ears. It would've been so easy to miss it, and yet you couldn't help but zero in on it like a homing beacon.

Like the sound of a bird tapping curiously at the glass, similar to a singular dense raindrop pattering against the frame or the friendly waving of your houseplants' leaves drawn to the beaming sun.

Or, even perhaps, if you stretched the idea far enough, like an arrowhead plinking against rain-pattered glass.

You chuckled. That thought was a bit overly specific, although not for lack of reason. However, if it was the arrowhead, it was better to go check, just to make sure.

The floor was startlingly cold underneath your bare feet, enough to make you wince, but not enough to send you back under your blankets. The window wasn't far, after all, a few paces to your left. You could already see her figure staunchly squatted on the windowsill, her back to the wind with her hair whipped back and forth.

Quanxi was without her swords, clean of blood and grime but drenched from head to toe from the storm.

You yawned and cracked open the window, letting her slink silently, almost peacefully, from the rugged weather outside into the comfort of your twilight bedroom.

"Quanxi?" Her name was soft on your lips. She stilled in front of you, mouth drawn into a thin line, twitched downward at the corners. She was an enigma, one you were slowly unwrapping and figuring out for yourself. A mystery that only let her guard for one person, and that one person was you.

She didn't say anything, only shrugged off her suit jacket and wrapped her cold, muscled arms around you, tugging you into an embrace that smelled strongly of men's cologne - Cedar and cashmere, underlined by a tinge of bloody iron and sharp rain. The way she twitched softly, fingers digging inwards as she tugged you closer, twining them into your hair as she sweetly kissed your forehead. Protective, anxious, almost lost seaming.

Also, as you may've mentioned, she was thoroughly drenched - Carrying a sheen of rain, heavy enough to dampen your clothes and chill your skin as well. Usually, you would've laughed at the action, maybe called her silly as she rolled her eyes playfully, cracking a rare smile. But tonight was not the night, tinged with sadness and longing. It was a sense in her eye, and in the way she held you so close and dear to her heart, literally and metaphorically.

You sighed and kissed whatever part of her you could reach - Cold skin dappled with raindrops. Quanxi sighed softly, melting ever so slightly as the heat from your love and the room thawed her bones.

"Go have a shower," You murmured into her. Quanxi grunted.

"Don't wanna." You rolled your eyes and gently shoved her in the direction of your bathroom. She battered her eyelashes at you, pursed her lips and set you with a look that would've made you shake if it weren't for the emphasised pout she gave you.

"You're freezing. Go have a shower," You pointed accusingly at her, which prompted nothing more than a quirked eyebrow. A part of you was more than glad that Quanxi was home again, but another, more tired part of you didn't want to deal with her stubbornness at one in the morning.

"You are not getting in that bed freezing cold and wet," You didn't wait for her to respond, verbally or otherwise, and instead returned to the lukewarm embrace of your bed and blankets. The almost silent pattering of Quanxi's footsteps out of the bedroom, echoing into the bathroom. The spattering of shower water followed soon after, steam billowing out from the door and spilling into the hallway.

You sniffled and rolled over, burrowing your face into the nearest pillow. Time seemed like an infallible concept as you listened to the sounds of rapid water showering across tiles. The repetitive lapping sound filled your senses, a subtle humidity filled the apartment, scents of soap and petrichor pleasantly swarmed your nose. The minutes slipped through your fingers, metaphorically, sleep weighing on your eyelids. You blinked, and it seemed in a moment Quanxi had re-entered the room with a slicked-back mess of wet silver atop her head and a towel in hand.

She blinked once and held out the towel in a silent question. You yawned and slid out of bed a second time that night, following your girlfriend into the bathroom.

Resting in front of the mirror, Quanxi closed her eye in contentment as you worked the water from her hair, patting it down to get the most of the water out. That itself was no easy feat, so, being as tired as you were, you whipped out the hairdryer. It was a loud, ebbing sound in your ears, but you couldn't give a crap as you watched the stress slowly seep from the muscles in Quanxi's shoulders.

"How often do you brush your hair?" You murmured against the back of her head. The brush in your hand was snagged against another knot. If Quanxi heard your question, she didn't make any motion that she would answer it - Instead, her fingers traced over the lace of her favourite choker. Even as you worked the kinks out of her hair, smoothing her silver locks till they were smooth and dry enough that your pillows wouldn't be wet in the morning, you couldn't help but notice that her attention would never drift from the fabric.

Hair dried, Quanxi insisted she would be fine to just slip into some pyjamas. You pointedly didn't point out the gooseflesh skittering up and down her arms and instead kissed her behind her ear before leaving for the bedroom for what you hoped was the last time.

The bed was cold. You sniffled and sighed, pulling the blankets over your head as you scavenged together the various pillows that had been tossed all over the bed. You only resurfaced once the click of the bedroom door opening resounded throughout the otherwise pin-drop silence, Quanxi silently walked in afterwards.

Her shoulders were bare, the only part that way highlighted by the sliver of moonlight escaping through the tumultuous clouds. She cast a look in your direction, eyepatch now removed. You didn't even flinch at the empty hole in her face, but rather, your eyes were drawn to the lace collar still firmly twined around her neck.

Quanxi seemed off. Her fingers brushed slowly over the lace as she pulled a shirt over her head.

"Do you miss them?" You'd spent enough time just watching her, listening to the sounds Quanxi made and studying the way she worked. You could tell when she was disheartened, sad even, in the most minuscule meaning of the word. Even if it did feel like a stab in the dark, the moment she stilled for more than a second settled your thoughts.

"Sometimes. Yes," Quanxi finished getting dressed, suddenly seeming a lot smaller without her loose ponytail. Silver cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, tangled and shining as she shimmied into bed next to you.

You knew about her fiends. They all were important to Quanxi, held near and dear in her heart, especially in death. You'd never met them, but you had no qualms with Quanxi keeping a few pictures on hand (and in your apartment). Perhaps in another life, you would've lived side by side with them, all a part of Quanxi's little self-made family. Your big bed certainly would've been useful in that case, six warm bodies all snuggled up under the blankets on a night like tonight.

As selfish and greedy as it sounded, there was a little part of you that was happy to have Quanxi all to yourself. Still, you just gave her a small smile, tired, and pulled her into your embrace.

Quanxi didn't cry. You didn't think anything in this world could make Quanxi cry, but she was shaking. Small, violent tremors that you wouldn't have felt if it weren't for the fact she was pressed against the pulse point in your neck. Your arms circled her neck, loosely looped around her warmth as your wrists rested gently against the cloth of her choker - A sensation that made your skin itchy, but, with your girlfriend planted firmly in your embrace, you were not willing to move a muscle. It was a rarity that Quanxi let you hold her so openly, so closely, her face pressed against you in such a manner your legs had to tangle together underneath the sheets.

Her breaths rolled over you in uneven puffs, heat against your skin in a way that pleasantly tingled and instilled a feeling of drowsiness. It was peaceful, in a sense of the word, and you were more than willing to let sleep take you. Nestled up against her, head held carefully in your arms with her warmth a constant ebb and flow against the biting chill outside, you couldn't help but answer the lulling call of sleep.

Quanxi pursed her lips, feeling your breath even out below her ear. It felt comfortable, soothing even. Although she knew she wouldn't sleep tonight (she hardly ever did anymore), spending the time listening to the rain outside, the pulsing of your heart all while she tried to bury the memories of her past deep within her subconscious.

[flowers-of-io]

Written for Ikora Week 2024 hosted by @hiseumingo! Friday prompt was Favourite Ship / Supernova.

Read on Ao3

Ikora asks this carefully, like treading on the surface of a frozen pond: "Have you used the Light since the accident?"

Asher looks up from the Ulurant booklet he is transcribing and gives her the most displeased look he can manage. Wrong question. Ikora has never understood the whole eggshell-treading, dancing-around-the-subject way he and Eris communicated; it frustrated her, their apparently allergy to cutting straight to the bloody point. Communication doesn't work like that.

So she cuts.

"Well, have you?" she prods after a moment of silence.

"An astouding example of meddlesomeness," he grunts. "Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity."

"I can't believe you just proved my point."

Ikora gives him a crooked smile. "What are Warlocks if not annoyingly curious, at the core of it?"

Asher scowls, then sighs and puts the booklet down on the side table. It pushes the teacup there precariously close to the edge, the cold tea in it rippling.

"I have not," he says slowly. His entire form has gone stiff, Ikora notes, and the fingers of his Vex hand are twitching slightly. "Not... in any meaningful manner, anyway."

The analytical part of her brain processes this. She has seen Asher's Ghost, red-eyed and silent. As far as she is aware, he is the first known case of a Ghost surviving a Vex infection. No medic or scholar has been able to determine if he could even bring Asher back from the dead anymore, and Ikora knows Asher himself has not tested the theory in practice.

But if he can use the Light...

She holds out both of her hands and forms a small Void soul between them. Its pull is faint, but a few pages of her notes lift slightly and fall back with a ruffle. Asher is leaning forward, brows furrowed, and looking at it intently. His Vex hand is curled into a fist. Ikora lets the Void soul spin between her fingers for a few seconds, and then sends it across the space between them without a warning.

He makes a small noise of surprise, but instinctively catches the orb with his good hand. She braves the scowl he sends her in response.

"Would you be so kind to warn me the next time you throw something at me?"

She grins. "The element of surprise was the key."

"Very funny."

The Void soul spins a few more times and vanishes, leaving a wisp of purple smoke behind. Asher's fingers twitch and curl, as if trying to hold it back from dissipating.

"Well, now throw it back to me," Ikora says.

Asher passes her a glance, then looks back down at his palm. His eyebrows are pulled together in a deep frown. Slowly, he brings his Vex hand up and cups it together with his good one. Ikora realises she is holding her breath, and wills herself to relax.

The air between his fingers swirls and then is sucked into itself as a tiny singularity begins to form. It is miniature and unstable, but it's there, eddying and tugging at the air around it greedily. Asher gasps, and she pretends she didn't hear it.

He carefully outstretches both hands and passes the Void soul over to her like releasing a bird. It arches over the space between the two of them and drops into Ikora's waiting palm, swirling and restless.

They sit in silence, their eyes fixed on the singularity, until it dissipates.

Then Asher coughs.

"Well. I admit this is an unexpected, but... welcome development."

Ikora tries to suppress a smile, but fails entirely. "I'm glad."

He passes her a glance, then looks away quickly and reaches for the booklet left on the side table. She isn't surprised, really. The thread of shared vulnerability between them is a frail and tenuous one, and it is best to spin it with care--on both ends.

"Now however, if you're done throwing things at me," Asher opens the booklet with his Vex hand and searches for his datapad with the other, "I'd like to get back to work."

Incited by his comment--and by some devious, vibrant spark in her--Ikora crumples the nearest page of notes into a ball and tosses it at him. She can't help the snort when it bonks off of Asher's forehead and into his lap.

"Remarkably adult of you," he says flatly, picking the paper ball with two fingers.

But he throws it back.

[ymaohoh]

Yankee Candle Baby - Fic

Eddie wants to buy something nice for Chrissy. Candles are romantic, right?  Oneshot (See at the end for notes)

Word count: 3,730

Chapter: 1/1.

No trigger warnings. No real plot. Just fluff and lust. 

Also on Archive of Our Own.

--

Oh yeah. He was most definitely out of his comfort zone. He was so far out of the zone that he felt like he was standing on a sinking ship surrounded by menacing hungry sharks. 

The mall. The fucking mall. On this perfectly fine Saturday he was here of all places. 

The small town of Hawkins boasted exactly one mall which meant it was unfortunately one of the busier places to be at the weekends, though at this precise time of the day he was thankful to see most of the shoppers were old folks, and noisy kids. His peers (and he used this term very loosely) would likely show up later when it was time to…God knows…go to the movies? Get a burger? Hit the arcade? Whatever it was the average American teenager did at the weekend with their friends or dates. As if he gave a flying fuck. 

No, he hoped he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. Not because he cared about their opinion - he was Eddie Munson, after all, have you met him? - but because he wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as humanly possible. He was on a secret D&D quest with one singular (but important) purpose...and as soon as he found his holy grail he would race back to his beat-up van and get the hell out of here. 

His leather boots scuffed on the linoleum floor (decorated with some bright nonsense pattern) as he walked forwards reluctantly into what he considered the jaws of hell. Eddie was not typically a morning person and it seemed too early in the day for the overly bright lights that lined the walls or the music blasting out of stores that he could only assume people who hung here found ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’. He ignored the posters that lined the windows advertising whatever shit was for sale inside and kept his eyes open for one specific store. 

Harrington said it would be right at the end of the first floor by the food court…and here…finally. Here it was. The walls to the store were painted bubblegum pink and unsurprisingly the patrons inside were all teenage girls wearing pastels and preppy makeup. 

Hell was apparently the cover of Teen Beat or Just Seventeen, the magazines that he often found rolled up in this van nowadays. 

Eddie looked at the bright and cheery store in question with something akin to repulsion (could he seriously hear Robert Palmer being played on the stereo behind the counter?) before taking a deep breath and plummeting inside before he could change his mind. 

Addicted to love? Apparently he fucking was because it was the only reason he was here. The only reason he’d step inside a capitalist cesspit that was so intense and cheery and uncomfortable to him. The object of said addiction? 

A tiny cheerleader who looked at him like he was her God-damned hero. 

Chrissy was everything to him, even though they’d only technically been a couple  (or ‘going steady’ as she reminded him) for a month now. Honestly? It felt longer. It felt like she’d always been a part of his life from the moment he first laid eyes on her neat strawberry-blonde ponytail. If you asked him if he could remember a time before her he’d draw a blank. He’d had a life without her, sure, but damn if he could remember much about it. He didn’t really want to. She’d woken him up like he was Snow White and she was the prince and life was now all singing cartoon birds, rainbows and sunsets. She was like the fucking sun itself. 

Best of all? She was his. All his. They navigated through the highschool gossip, the stares, the outright rude comments that made him want to ball his fists like how the hell did that loser pull someone like her? Is she crazy? To be fair, it wasn’t a stupid question. He’d asked himself the same thing over and over. They’d laughed when hearing the suggestions of blackmail and magic and he’d fallen a bit in love with her when she admitted there could be magic at play. 

If he thought it would make her smile (and seriously her smile always had the power to totally pierce through his chest like an arrow) then he would most gladly step into whatever hellish landscape needed. He’d move mountains for her. Battle demons. All that cliche romantic stuff. 

Shit, he couldn’t wait to see her smile again. Maybe he was addicted. 

Later on today she was coming to his trailer and they’d be all alone as his uncle was working a night shift at the plant. They’d arranged it so casually yesterday when he drove her home from school - ‘I’ll be there after I finish my chem homework, okay? Maybe six…seven?’ ‘Sure thing. Come round whenever’ - but despite the casual tone he really wanted to do something extra nice for her. He had an idea about making her dinner and setting it up all fancy on the table with the forks and spoons and whatever lined up in the so-called right places. Hell, he’d even bought some wine for them both and Harrington said it was a good bottle (for under $5).

He wouldn’t call Harrington a friend exactly, but he wasn’t a stranger either. He was also one of the only guys he sort of hung around with who actually had experience with women. Eddie would die if any of the kids found out about this (though really they knew how soft Eddie was for Chrissy. It was almost nauseating to be in the same room as them). Harrington has also recommended getting candles. 

Girl’s love them, he’d said confidently. He’d pieced everything together immediately when he ran into Eddie at the store buying fancy healthy ingredients and wine. Eddie was a beer guy usually - wine had to only mean he was trying to impress someone. Trust me, man. There’s a new place in the mall that all the girls talk about. Sounds seriously lame but if you’re going with Chrissy the queen Cunningham then you better up your game. No offense.  

So here he was. Like he said, he’d do anything for Chrissy. Even if it meant stepping out of his comfort zone and doing something different. 

Just like when she surprised him last Tuesday by showing up at The Hideout to hear his band for the first time. She’d looked so out of place in her floral dress beside the regulars who stuck to black and ripped denim as a rule, but she’d cheered loudly (his own personal cheerleader) and it made him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world. She really was a fucking gem. 

“Hi. Can I help you?”

A friendly voice came out of nowhere and he looked up to see a salesgirl eyeing him curiously. He couldn’t blame her for looking at him in that way. Next to the other customers he stood out like a sore thumb in his jeans and leather jacket. Still, he had a reputation of bravado to uphold and he wasn’t the kind of shitty person who was rude to staff. Her name badge said ‘Becky’ in a tiny purple font. She looked to be around Chrissy’s age. 

Becky, you’re going to be my best friend right now. 

“You sure can. Candles? Word on the street is you sell them.”

She smiled and led him to the back of the store past all the scented bath crap, the bright cushions with tassels, the art-deco type figurines, and other trendy kitschy items that teenage girls seemed to adore having in their bedrooms. She led him to a counter at the back which was full of the promised candles. Several heads turned in surprise as he moved around but they soon went back to whatever little item that so fascinated them. 

Ah shit. 

“This is the only brand we sell as it’s the most popular. Is there one you have specifically in mind or do you need help picking one out?”

She was assuming he’d been sent here by his girlfriend (or sister or mom) to collect something on their behalf because they were tied up somewhere else. In which case he’d know exactly what it was he needed. How many boyfriends (or brothers or dads) had been in the same pitiful position as he was now? Becky probably spotted it right away which is why she was being so helpful. Golden star for Becky, he thought. 

(He did love the term boyfriend though. Chrissy’s boyfriend. Chrissy’s boyfriend who would run errands for her. Ah, bliss). 

He fixed her with a smile, saying honestly… “I haven’t got a clue, Becky. Honestly. I’m just trying to find something nice for my girlfriend.”

(His girlfriend. His girlfriend Chrissy. The person who braided his favourite bandana into her hair, marking her as such). 

“Well that’s adorable,” Becky commented. The smile she wore now seemed far more genuine. “In that case let me help. What does your girlfriend use them for? Reading? Putting on during a bath? General ambience?”

Dude. Do not think of Chrissy in a bath. Not Chrissy in a bath wet with water and soap and…

“I’m fixing her dinner tonight,” he explained, turning to more pure and wholesome thoughts. “So something for that? I thought it might look…nice?”

This was hell. Absolute hell. 

Still, two girls who were standing by all the bath crap nearby let out little sighs at his stilted phrasing. Becky looked pretty impressed too. Wow, was he nailing this? And was it just him or did his voice get softer when he spoke about anything to do with Chrissy? 

“I’d go with a pillar candle then, for sure. You can place it in the middle of the table,” Becky suggested. She waved towards the right side of the display. “What’s her favourite smell?”

“Uh…well, she likes loads of things…”

And this was the trickiest bit. He didn’t know. Chrissy liked all sorts of smells and tastes. He’d noticed her happy sigh when she smelled the football field after the grass was freshly cut, and she said she liked the smell of ‘new books’. How could they make candles out of that? 

“I see. Well, maybe test some? See which ones remind you the most of her. I need to go and help that customer over there, but I’ll be by the counter if you need anything else, okay?”

“Sure…thanks.”

This wasn’t going to be so quick and easy as he’d hoped. 

Who the hell needed so many candles? Why were there so many sizes? What the hell was Home for Holidays? He managed to stifle a sigh. He focused on the taller candles to the right where Becky had waved, agreeing that they were probably best suited for his purpose (and would last longer - you know, if he and Chrissy forgot all about them in a daze of frantic making out). Wait - was his home at serious risk of burning down tonight? 

It was a herculean effort to drag his mind away from Chrissy’s spectacular lips and back to the mission at hand. Really. He should be awarded some prize for this. 

Right. Maybe focus on scent like Becky said? That was the whole point of candles now the lightbulb made them otherwise obsolete, right? He scanned the labels. What smell would Chrissy like? 

Using his keen powers of logic and intellect (sharpened recently with Chrissy’s tutorage) he noted that the candles seemed to be arranged in a specific order. The ones on the top shelf sounded like flowery ones. 

Lavender? French Lavender? Lilac Blossoms? Lily of the Valley? He held the latter up to his nose but yanked it away quickly. No way. It smelled like something his grandmother would buy. From what very limited information Chrissy offered about her batshit family they seemed to uphold ‘good old-fashioned conservative values’ like most of middle America and Chrissy herself unknowingly still toed some traditional ideals (though she’d hate any comparison to her crusty bitch of a mother). For example, she was the one who wanted to ‘go steady’ and go on ‘dates’. She also made them wait for date three before…well, what she would very cutely describe as ‘PG stuff’ stuff. As for Eddie? Hell, from day one he’d wanted to throw her over his shoulder cave man style and fuck her on the floor of his van (where she’d first gloriously uttered the perfect words ‘yes, Eddie, I like like you too’) . 

Floral smells seemed to go hand in hand with those traditional ideals…yet Chrissy was showing day by day she didn’t want to be held back by that crap any longer. It started with baby steps - hell, dating him a biggie - but who knew what the future held? Chrissie wanted to go to college after graduation and instead of writing ‘baby-maker extraordinaire’ on her applications (as her family wanted) she confessed to wanting more. Maybe teaching? Maybe social work? She had the brains, for sure. His Chrissy was a Fourth of July sparkler, burning bright and sparkling. She could be whatever she wanted to be. She could have both a career and a family if she wanted because she admitted she did like kids (though the idea of Chrissy holding another little Chrissy in her arms made him feel things he never thought possible). With a fond smile he placed the candle back and moved along. 

White fig, Sicilian Lemon, Sea Salt and Sage, Sage and Citrus, Olive and Thyme. The next shelf seemed to hold the candles that smelled like food. Which was bizarre when he really thought about it. He sampled them each. After all, he was buying a candle to go with dinner so didn’t it make sense for it to be food related? 

He quite liked the citrus smell but he smiled when he saw the label for Thyme. He thought about the first time (ha) they’d cooked together at his trailer a few weeks back, back before they were dating. They’d still been at that bullshit flirty-but-not stage, both too scared of admitting their real feelings in case they ruined the tentative and unexpected friendship they both secretly cherished. Dinner hadn’t been anything special - they’d been hanging out watching a movie with accidental (or not in his case) brushing of limbs and secret glances to her legs (she’d been wearing her cheerleader skirt, for crying out loud - he was not made of stone) - when they’d grown hungry and started fixing some pasta. Chrissy had been awkward when it came to food back then and it was something he’d picked up on right away. She would always make excuses not to eat in front of him but her growling stomach had on this occasion betrayed her big time. He’d heated up the pasta and asked her to pass the thyme to stir into the tomato sauce and she’d eventually admitted to not having a clue what that herb was. He’d been so careful to show not even the teensiest amount of surprise in his eyes, and instead patiently showed her how to use it in cooking. It was apparent that Chrissy only ate the same things day after day and it was all bland and unseasoned. 

Less calories, right? 

Since then she’d come along leaps and bounds with her eating, though it was still something present in the back of her mind like a cobweb they couldn’t quite dust away. Though he worried about the future - what would his dumbass do while Chrissy excelled? - one thing he knew for certain was right after graduation (maybe while still wearing those dorky robes) he would bundle Chrissy into his van and drive her far away from the influence of her asshole mother. If she let him he would dedicate his life to feeding and caring for her like she deserved. He hoped she’d be game. 

He looked away from this shelf. They still had some work to do in this area. 

He liked Candy Cane Lane, Cranberry Twist, French Vanilla, Pink Grapefruit…He smelled them appreciatively even though they were very sickly sweet. He liked his coffee black but he knew Chrissy preferred hers laden with sugar and cream (now she actually let herself indulge more). 

Chrissy was sweetness personified in human form really. All sweet smiles and warm skin and caresses. She was popular for her looks, her kindness, her cheery nature. She also had the glorious ability to look past the dark parts of life (and in people) and see the goodness and the light. It was a trait that Eddie simply didn’t have and he marvelled whenever he was privileged enough to see it swell inside her. No matter how many times life seemed to try and beat it out of her, Chrissy was a God-damned angel who got right back on her feet and was unapologetically kind and sweet and dazzling. Eddie knew he would do anything in his power to keep that flame inside of her bright and fucking destroy anyone who tried to take advantage or smother it. 

(Was he an attack dog now? A bull terrier? Why not. She already held his metaphoric leash. Where she went, he went gladly). 

Chrissy had looked at him - him, Eddie, the guy who was all swagger and sarcasm and enjoyed guts and gore. The person who was labelled a freak, an outcast, a junior delinquent - and seen someone she wanted to be with. Her sweet pretty smile seemed to shine on him and say you’re my person and you are good and you are mine.  

Hell, he was going to ravish her later on. 

Strawberry  

Oh yes. We have a winner. This would be the part where quiz show lights went off and heaps of cash fell from the ceiling. 

He didn’t need to sample this candle because he knew right away this was the one which reminded him the most of Chrissy Cunningham. 

Of her fucking perfect little mouth. 

Chrissy had a habit of wearing lipgloss and it tended to be of the fruity variety which was A-OK with him as long as he was the one tasting it. He’d drown himself in buckets of strawberries if it meant he could once more brush his tongue against that soft velvet cupid bow. The rush he got from kissing Chrissy was better than any illicit high, and he knew as soon as he’d sampled just a little bit that it was game over. He was hooked for life. Chrissy was now in his veins - channelling through his body - and keeping his small insignificant heart beating. 

Their first kiss hadn’t been planned but it was fucking spectacular all the same. So were their other firsts. All of them etched into his memory forever. He might casually use the word fucking to describe what they were doing nearly every single night in his trailer, but they both knew it ran much deeper than that. They were hooked on each other. Couldn’t get enough of each other. It made them frantic and careless at times. Though she swore him to secrecy (blushing as she did so because of course good girls would never) he would never tell another soul about the times they’d frantically fucked in the back of his van, or on the bench in the woods where they re-met. They’d even fucked hurriedly behind The Hideout and the image of him lifting Chrissy against the brick wall with her long legs wrapped around his waist, was something he thought about a lot. He remembered how her pretty lips looked when she came for him. 

And before that when they first uttered the word fuck infront of him. They’d been sitting on the lawn with their friends at the time, and everyone had cheered at Chrissy Cunningham saying a bad word. He’d whistled and cheered too, though it was incredibly hot and a base instinct deep down wanted to grab her like he was some savage neanderthal and have her there on the field. He was pretty sure she knew that too because there was a coy twist to her smile. 

Ding ding ding. We’ve found the candle. He picked it up and went to pay Becky. 

“Nice choice,” she said as she popped it in a paper bag. 

“Yeah. Chrissy is…” Chrissy was a lot of things. He settled on, “She tastes like strawberries.”

Becky’s cheeks flamed at his words and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling. Instead of feeling embarrassed, Eddie felt pretty proud of himself overall. He’d battled the demon that was the mall, found a sidekick of sorts in Becky, and retrieved the holy grail that would please the beautiful princess. Not a bad campaign really. “Chrissy Cunningham, you mean?”

Christ. They knew her here too? He gave her a stiff nod. Was she going to start coming out with the usual crap he heard in the corridors about not being good enough? 

But no. Becky only gave him the bag. “Lucky girl.”

“Nah, I'm the lucky one.”

----

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing for the couple, so apologies for any errors or mishaps with the setting or characteristics. It’s a learning curve. I was not alive during the 80’s so I did rely on a trusty search engine for a few parts. I actually searched for ‘Yankee Candles which are now obsolete’ (apparently they started in the 60’s - who knew?) and the ones listed above are the search results. Pretty sure some of them have come back into circulation though. The store Eddie so bravely ventured into is essentially an 80’s Oliver Bonas. 

I’m also not from the US though I tried using some of the lingo. I think I actually wrote the word mum but it looked so out of place for this world. I can’t bring myself to swap the spell check over though so you still get plenty of u’s in unlikely places (or likely - eh). 

I really enjoyed writing this. It came very naturally. I’ve posted some prompts on my page which I’ll make my way through but give me a shout if you’ve got any requests. 

Toodles x

[shineonyoucrazyyandere]

Gwess with s/o who’s stand already lets them shrink?

I’m not sure what about Guess is kind of fun to write for (she’s a pretty minor character) but then I also enjoy writing Formaggio too who also has a shrinking stand. Both of their personalities are kind of fun to write Yandere so maybe that’s it

Yandere! Gwess w/ a stand user! so whose ability lets them shrink

There’s shock on her face just for a split second, then she looks like she’s pouting. Maybe a bit annoyed? You’re not really sure with how this woman sometimes reacts to just about anything.

“I’m supposed to be the one that shrinks you, this isn’t quite as fun y/n….you should say “sowwy”” she cooed casually.

“I can’t help it….I’m very sowwy, Gwess” you internally cringed at your baby talk but she squealed with delight and started clapping her hands together like you just did a cute trick.

“Perfect!, Perfect! you did even better than I expected” she then dug something out from underneath her bed. It was your favorite kind of cookies, she knew this from practically stalking you from the first week you were in this prison. You watched passively as she took out a singular cookie and presented it to you like one would a mouse or a bird.

“You get these if you don’t use your silly little power” her eyes seemed to gleam dully piercing into your e/c eyes.

“If I can’t control the shrinking then what’s the point of my goo goo dolls?” She whispered to you irritation underneath her tone, she then sat your confection down completely once your tiny hands took hold of the baked good. You could tell she did not like you having a stand, let alone having one that shrinks. It made her feel like you were taking the little power she had over you away.

“Maybe we were meant to be buddies?” You said hoping she didn’t catch the sarcasm laced in that sentence.

You got lucky she didn’t seem to notice or perhaps she overlooked your “not cute” transgression out of kindness.

“No, No not “buddies” soulmates, or lovers…you’re making it sound like you don’t want to be my cute little lover” she dismissed your comment.

“We’ll just have to fix that huh?” Her index finger and thumb came up and pinched the right side of your tiny cheeks. You nodded as cute as you could to try and not flare up her temper.

To think you ended up in this situation all because she caught you stealing from the vending machine with the good snacks and drinks.

[theinconveniencing]

daddy long dick has landed in washington baby and since this was my first time in new england I would like to discuss some of the differences I spotted/things I noticed. new england east coast mutuals get in on this

obviously I had a limited experience and I'm comparing this to western washington let me have my fun tho 

okay the Main thing I noticed. like the first thing. this is gonna sound insane but you're fucking houses. WHERE is the overhang on the trim. like you have roofs yeah but there's no overhang on the gabled part. the sides of your house are getting dirty!

your trees are bigger. like the non needled trees. on the west colonizers pulled up and chopped all that shit down and we had to start over. save for a couple of trees that got spared. love it.

speaking of trees you guys don't really have very many needled trees. I can't imagine how that place looks in the fall

CICADAS I LOVE YOU. wish I got to see one. that's all.

your place names are like. parodies of what I would guess east coast city names are like. like fucking west yorkshire libertyville englandtown bullshit WHAT is that. whenever my mom and I were driving we would read the town names out loud and just laugh

everything is just older. like duh but we would see signs for buildings or cities that were established before white people even started colonizing over here. like damn!

boston accents are real. I always thought they were kind of a myth. I know i already said this but people really talk like that. love it.

FUCK PATRIOTS FANS I HATE PATRIOTS FANS. okay jk but they were being really mean to me my mom and my sister :( like guys it's just a sport. ALSO just throwing it out there that when the crowd was supposed to be loud it wasn't loud. like it was Loud but I couldn't still very easily talk to my sister. girl at the seahawks games you can't even Hear over how loud everybody is. we cause earthquakes over here bitch fuck your team! 

where are your birds.... I didn't see many birds and I certainly didn't hear them. where are they.....

your houses just generally look cooler I'll say that. like most of ours are all very 1970s suburban but you guys have a nice wraparound porch victorian ish style thing going on with a lot of yours. but you could do with more color. and less of the fake window shades.

dunkin vs starbucks. we all knew this. but what I Knew but wanted to See was that yall don’t have coffee stands. nor coffee shops coffee Stands. I'm pretty sure it's a pnw thing that we have little tiny coffee places that are only drive thrus and are usually manned by one singular young blonde white woman who is running that shit like the navy frankly. if you want a coffee you can get a coffee. or a redbull charger or a lotus. which my sister's friends have never heard of but they're not a diverse sample

I'm sure this is probably just the area we were in but the lack of estate sales. disappointing

but on a similar note I'm pretty sure this was just this one person but we saw signs for a "tag sale" and my mom and I went obviously but it was just a garage sale. tell me if this is a thing yall say. listening and learning.

your water tastes like shit

washington is not super walkable but the places I was in new england were somehow less walkable. which I don’t get bc your towns were all established when people had to walk or take a fucking horse everywhere so what gives 

I learned that when you order a mocha at dunkin it's not implied that it's a a latte. black coffee and some chocolate is not a mocha I fear....

think that's all I got I'm sure I'll post more in the coming days. overall it was nice but unforch I don’t think I would live there... I like my state. bless.