dahlia

Gianna and Eris

They are not the same.

Gianna has put on Eris’s clothes, paraded around their bedroom dressed like him, imitated the tone and cadence of his voice, and has gone as far as to get herself off in his clothes. I’m not talking about an oversized poet shirt deal. I’m talking she’s wearing the whole nine yards: trousers with fancy socks, boots, a linen shirt and embroidered jacket + cravat.

She’s sitting on the floor in front of the mirror with his clothes on, legs spread and hand down her (his) pants when he walks in. They are making eye contract via the mirror.

—

It’s a *Toy* Story 🤠

You knew it! My new original song “I Knew It, I Knew You” for Disney and Pixar’s Toy Story 5 will be yours on June 5th. I’ve always dreamed of getting to write for these characters who I’ve adored since I was a 5 year old kid watching the first Toy Story movie. I fell instantly in love with Toy Story 5 when I was lucky enough to see it in its early stages, and I wrote this song as soon as I got home from the screening. Sometimes you just know, right?

Lunch by Halie Torris

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nesta should get a pregnancy plotline, father unknown, she knows she needs to get her life in order for parent reasons. her anti depression training is more pre natal classes rather than warrioring, maybe some of the women in the library had their own traumatic conceptions or births or relationships with the father or something and we can talk about that and show the breadth of human (fae) experience. you can make gwyn a mother, you can make emerie pregnant if you want, just these three women becoming a mom group with very different experiences of becoming a mother or something.

it would also play nesta's and cassian's relationship drama much better imo, he needs to get over his weird possessiveness and here you could pitch his anger at nesta for not being with him against his deep seated issues with how his mother was treated for having a bastard son. from that inner conflict he could grow to be a good stepfather and evolve a better and deeper understanding of both nesta whom he demonised and his mother whom he idealised. women are people and all that.

and if you want nessian to succeed against eris by being better matched, make eris very critical of nesta having a first born child that isn't his heir or something, he could ask her to leave the child with feyre and rhysand when marrying him and she rejects him for that. you can even make him motivated by knowing lucien is a bastard son and not wanting nesta's fatherless child exposed to beron

18 is "secret" let's gooooooo @sjmsapphic

Mistruth

Mor x Nesta | E | 5.7k

Mor has always gotten under Nesta's skin, and Nesta has the same effect on Mor. That's all there is to it; there's nothing else going on. Or: five times Nesta lied to herself + the one time she didn't

written for @sjmsapphic day 1. there is mutual pining if you squint. but also mutual loathing. it's toxic yuri time >:)

thank you to @olenvasynyt for beta reading she saved my life!!

snippet below; read it on ao3 here

Nesta scans the room for her next conquest. A few familiar faces make to catch her eye, but she turns away quickly. She prefers to avoid repeats. But Velaris, no matter its size, is an isolated city; there are never travelers passing through to entice for a single forgettable night. The pool of prospects has begun to ebb.

When she catches glimpse of a head of sun-gold hair, she finishes her drink. The color is one of a kind, just as the faint scent of citrus and cinnamon that wafts amongst the must and sweat and old, stale beer soaked into the floorboards.

Recklessly, she pushes her way through the crowd.

"Morrigan," Nesta says with mock sweetness, flashing her teeth as she approaches. It's too pretty a name for someone so unpleasant. "I didn't think this was your sort of tavern."

"It isn't." Morrigan's nose wrinkles, the long curve of it pinching with disdain.

"Following me around now, are you?" Nesta asks, not caring that the words slur together as they tumble out of her mouth.

Morrigan says nothing, only looks at Nesta down her nose. She's always looking at Nesta like that—like an annoyance she'd rather not put up with. Like something inferior.

She's dressed, as usual, in bright red. Something tight and low-cut that hugs every curve of her body, leaving little to the imagination. Scandalous in a way that's hard to look away from.

"If you were trying to go unnoticed, this"—she gestures to Morrigan's dress—"was an odd choice."

"Maybe I wanted you to notice me," she says, her voice sensuous as silk, a long nail tracing the rim of her drink.

:)))

linger | Mor x Nesta for scent for @sjmsapphic

There's no escaping Nesta Archeron it seems.

Nowhere is safe. Every place where Mor once found refuge is now permeated with the searing scent of heated metal, of cold smoke and brumal flame. It seeps beneath Mor's skin and lingers there, taunting her in the late hours of the night when Mor pleasures herself and pretends she's imagining anyone else.

In the River House, Mor drinks glass after glass of wine. As usual, inexplicably, no amount is enough to numb her senses. Her nails tap-tap-tap along the stem of her glass, chiming dully.

At the other end of the house, the front door opens. Then slams with a thud. Mor's heartbeat quickens.

She's here.

The scent overwhelms her. Like a forge, like winter wind. Something steel and sharp enough to cut.

She can't stand it.

When Nesta enters the room, Mor finishes her wine.

Is It Wickedness? Is It Weakness?

Chapter 4

Chapter summary: Lucien and Elain weather their first family dinner since becoming a couple. It does not go well :-)

Read on ao3 ˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗ Start at the beginning

Rating: Explicit (pls read the tags this chapter is questionable in many ways)

Fic summary: Canon divergence where after she is turned fae, Elain and Lucien immediately form a close attachment, but Lucien has deeply conflicting feelings about Elain’s age. (whispers in ur ear ITS ELUCIEN DDLG)

“This little piggy went to market…”

“Lucien, no!” Elain squealed, trying to pull her bare feet from his lap as he held fast, a toe caught between his fingers.

“This—little piggy—stayed home—“ he struggled to say while he fought her squirming body. Peals of laughter fell from her lips, still stained a pretty pink from the fresh berries she’d eaten, as she feebly attempted to yank her legs away. Quickly filing away the excitement that stirred in his gut at her struggling and the ease with which he overpowered her, he shouted Fine! abandoning his full mission in favor of wiggling just her pinky toe. “And this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee all the way home!” he rushed out before letting her pull away.