#elfleed

I’m going to take advantage of my AU for this one. Evelyn isn’t the quizzy there, just a celebrated researcher, but I’ll sacrifice the bonus points to take advantage of grocery stores.

Also posted to ao3 - here. 

Since he was in a rush and distracted, Cullen didn’t realize the automatic doors hadn’t fully opened until he rammed into one side with his shoulder. The glass rattled and shook, and his hands shot up in preparation to catch the damn thing should it fall. Luckily it proved unnecessary as within a few seconds it stilled, and after a moment more the doors whisked shut.

Letting out a puff of air, Cullen raked a hand through his untamed curls and continued with his mission.

He suppressed the urge just to grab the first container he saw and be on his way because Cullen knew if he did, he’d bring home something moldy or rotten. Evelyn was eight months pregnant with his child. Plagued by heartburn, sciatica, sleepless nights and bouts of insatiable hunger.  The least he could do was take the time to hunt for the perfect basket of strawberries.

Just as he decided upon a container, his phone vibrated.

Chuckling to himself, Cullen collected a handbasket only to realize he left his prized berries behind. The split-second he picked up the container the produce misters clicked on. Since there were no other sounds in the store other than fluorescent lights humming overhead, he jumped.

And dropped the berries.

The container burst apart, sending strawberries flying every which way. With a frustrated whine, Cullen picked them up. None of them seemed damaged, and after receiving an extra thorough wash at home, they’d be perfectly edible. Once satisfied he collected them all, he hurried on to his next objective.

While searching for spicy mustard, he absentmindedly rubbed the tender spot on his shoulder. It was sure to bruise fantastically, and there would be no hiding it from Evelyn. He made a mental note to get some acetaminophen for her aches and pains as well as his. After considering his choices far longer than a normal person should, Cullen gave up and chose something called ‘hot’ mustard. On his way to the coolers, he sent up a prayer it would be sufficient. Just as he had to hope neapolitan ice cream would be satisfactory.

And he forgot the Tylenol.

Fortunately, Evelyn seemed nothing but pleased with his efforts, and greatly amused by his tale. Smirking, she carefully scooped out another bite of chocolate ice cream. Neapolitan ended up being a blessing in disguise.

“I don’t know why you were acting like I was going to cry if you didn’t come through. You didn’t have to go anywhere. I could’ve made due. We have some raspberries and brownies.” Evelyn vaguely gestured toward the refrigerator with her spoon before popping it into her mouth.

Cullen groaned.

Laughing, she wiped the corner of her mouth off with a paper towel. “How’s your shoulder?”

Knowing how uncomfortable she was, the last thing he wanted to do was complain, but there was no use in lying. Her knowledge of how lyrium, or in his case the lack thereof, affected the body far surpassed his.

“Sore,” he admitted petulantly.

“Aww. Come here, my grouchy bear.”

“I’m not grouchy,” he protested, pulling off his t-shirt as he wandered around the breakfast bar.

“Just tired,” she offered amicably.

“A little,” he sighed as her hands, always cool to the touch, wrapped around the bruised tissue. Cullen found it difficult to meet her gaze as she searched for a way to ease the ache in his shoulder, so he took in the shape of her. The thickness of her thighs, the swollen roundness of her stomach, her breasts at least a cup larger… Between the sight of her and the soothing warmth of her healing magic, Cullen felt arousal start to move through him. In a desperate attempt to push it aside, he squeezed his eyes shut, and his hands curled into fists as she pulled the aches from his body.

Once finished, Evelyn smoothed her hands down his chest. “Better?”

He pried his eyes open. “Always.”  

Thank you so much for the prompt. I took a couple liberties, but I gave you three options, so hopefully that will suffice. (Angst incoming).

You can read this and my other short prompted works here on Ao3.

Dementia

It starts in small ways: forgotten appointments and missing keys. It isn't until he calls me one day from the grocery store and says his car has been stolen that I know something is wrong. I race to meet him—three miles and six streetlights at breakneck speeds only to find him standing on the sidewalk, staring at the ground.

“Cullen?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

“Damn it, Al.” His tone is sharp, but he isn’t looking at me; he’s still staring at the curb.

“Sweetie, what’s happening?” I tilt enough to catch his eyes—they’re glassy, unfocused…

“They took my fucking car,” he says.

“Who did?”

“Them! The fucking… shit… you know…” He rolls his eyes at me and huffs.

I haven’t the slightest idea what he’s talking about, but I scan the parking lot, trying to understand. That’s when I catch the outline of a royal blue jeep in my periphery—Cullen’s jeep.

“Sweetie… your car’s right there,” I offer.

He glares at me, but follows my outstretched fingers to where his car is clearly parked.

In the days that follow, he insists that jeep isn’t his car… his car is a dark green sedan.

No, Sweetie… you got rid of that two years ago, I remind him.

He mumbles assent among myriad excuses: he meant he’d lost the keys… he just got mixed up about the color... there was something off with that new pair of glasses…

...but I know right then: I’m losing him piece by piece.         

Drug Addiction

It starts in small ways: fights forgotten, nights unremembered. I should know what it means, but I don’t. In fact, the moment I get the call, I’m surprised, despite all the evidence—despite every ignored thing.

“Mr. Theirin,” says a grave voice, “I’m calling on behalf of a Cullen Rutherford?”

I blink into the darkness of our bedroom and squint at the clock. It’s just after two in the morning. I don’t wait for Cullen to come home anymore. Back when we were together—really together—I used to wait up. Now, I can’t stand the way he smells and swears and forgets so I go to bed alone.

“Mr. Theirin, are you there?”

“Yes,” I manage. “I’m here. Where is he?”

“We’re holding him,” says the woman. “The precinct at 132nd and Lexington.”

“He’s been arrested?” I ask, already stumbling out of bed and toward a haphazard pile of clothing—clashing patterns and mismatched socks.

“No…” she says, but she doesn’t sound sure.

“Then what is he doing there?” I ask.

“He’s—he’s confused, Ser…” She clears her throat nervously. “You’d better come down here…”

When I arrive, I hear him before I see him. He’s raving like a lunatic—every word he says makes less sense and is less intelligible than the last. I explain who I am and they bring me to him. He’s alone in the holding cell, which begs the question: who was he talking to? When I come near him, he blinks at me helplessly.

“Al,” he slurs, “Thank the maker you’re here—I told them to get you… that you’d know what to do…”

“What happened, Cullen?” I ask.

He reaches for me through the bars and grabs hold of my collar to haul me forward. It’s then that I realize my shirt is inside out. I left in such a hurry, I didn’t notice.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s starting to cry. “I don’t… I don’t know…”

That’s when I notice the blood—smeared across his knuckles and crusted into the bed of each nail.

“Cullen,” I whisper, afraid of the sound of my own voice, “whose blood is that?”

“Al…” he squeezes his eyes shut, swallows a sob. “I don’t remember… I was… I was so high… I don’t remember.”

...and that’s when I know… there’s no saving him anymore.

Traumatic Brain Injury

It starts in small ways: a surprised blink, a squint, a wordless gurgle. They were signs I didn’t know how to interpret. They were signals I shouldn’t have ignored. Even when the doctors tried to explain it to me, I didn’t understand.

“Mr. Theirin, you have to be prepared for the possibility that he may not be able to communicate with you in the way you expect…” says the neurologist.

I squint. What does that mean? “In what ways might he be impeded?” I ask.

“He may have trouble with coordination, cognition, memory—”

“Memory?” I interrupt.

The doctor looks down at her hands—wrings them—before looking back at me. “It’s possible that he won’t know who certain people are… you, even.”

I struggle to suppress a gasp.

“We won’t know anything for a couple days, but he’s been through something most people wouldn’t have even survived,” continues the doctor. “The human brain can only withstand so much…”

I nod and shrug, looking through the double-thick glass pane. He looks so small—helpless.

His words are a struggle now; he stutters and his voice shakes around every syllable.

“He-he-lllooo,” he says each morning, but he doesn’t know me any better today than he did the day before.

“Hello, Cullen,” I say, sitting next to his bed. When I reach for his hand, he lets me hold it, but there’s no recognition in his eyes.

We smile and watch the birds outside his window. I tell him how well his petunias are doing at home.

The Ko-Fi commissions are still going, so if you want to help me to replace my broken PC screen, you can donate 3 or more coffees for a smol headshot <3

!!!!!!!!!!!!

We're all thirsty too, so it's okay. Doeeeet.

imbiowaresbitch replied to your post “Now I have the urge to draw Cullen and Alistair like this because I am...”

If you need a third, may I suggest Rylen....

crystal-grace replied to your post “Now I have the urge to draw Cullen and Alistair like this because I am...”

�� do it

elfleed replied to your post “Now I have the urge to draw Cullen and Alistair like this because I am...”

You have my support and full attentiom.

pookyhuntress replied to your post “Now I have the urge to draw Cullen and Alistair like this because I am...”

do it!

marquis1305 replied to your post “Now I have the urge to draw Cullen and Alistair like this because I am...”

psssst.... you should do it.... sincerely, also thirty garbage

nsdubnvus you are ALL ENABLERS

"oh- I just came in my pants. How... awkward." ? ;)

Selena for @elfleed

pictures of the dress and you! <3