#Rich Merrill

[boatboys]

he's genetically copyrighted by multiple supersoldier companies, he's a nerd, he's a shivering rescue dog the size of a fridge, he's an alcoholic, he's an IT specialist with computers in his brain, he's a professional hoverboarder, he's an intransigent manslut. He's even bisexual. i didn't say a name but you thought of him didn't you

[splickedylit]

captiancap asked: I'd like to see any art you have of the Michigan Fleet cast. I do really like them. feral-engineer asked: For art requests: can we get something with trimmer? Maybe a hug, or baby trimmer causing problems on purpose? damnfool-of-a-took asked: for the art prompt request! Michigan Fleet, kid!Trimmer🔪👀?

Y'all are just too kind 🥰 I've been sitting on boatboy sketchbook scans for a WHILE not getting around to them, so here are some folks--some on boats and some not, some from published books and some not! :D

Rich and Trimmer never met each other as kids which is probably for the best because Rich was an impressionable little dumpling and Trimmer was a fast-paced, daring, precocious bump/bruise-magnet, like many fourhands kids lol

[4lydsmarie]

radio - dallas winston

“now my life is sweet like cinnamon” - radio, lana del rey

dallas winston x newgirl!reader note: reader and dallas are underage drinking, reader gets a little tipsy. dallas realizes he has a lover boy side after all..just fluff basically? a/n: this takes place in the 60s! 60s detroit has my heart of course i had to involve it just a bit. 💋

your parents had decided to move you to tulsa, against your will of course, in hopes of living a “calm small town life” in their words. you thought it was just unnecessary. you were happy back home in detroit, enjoying the motor city and it’s homey feel. moving all the way to oklahoma to live in some small town felt idiotic. but, what could you do? you’d already settled into your new “home” and it’s not like your words could convince your parents anyways. 

the cool summer breeze had sent you wandering into buck merrill’s roadhouse. you’d heard from a couple of people in your neighborhood that it was a place most people went to for drinks, fights, and just to be lonely at. while it didn’t sound appealing, the drinks part settled well into your head. drinks were never your thing, but anything would make you feel better than being at home, the moving and adjusting had been all too much for you.

arriving at buck’s, many faces looked your way. some curious, some flirtatious, some disgusted. you flashed an awkward smile as you sat down and ordered a drink for yourself.

across the bar sat dallas winston. dallas winston was known for his cold demeanor and player antics. ask anyone and they’d tell you, he had no care in the world for anyone. not even himself. 

he’d noticed you just as everyone else had. new girl for sure, but something else about you interested him. he couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

lost in his thought, he hadn’t realized buck was right behind him.

“someone’s caught your eye, huh dally?” buck teased. “nah man, just lookin. hey, you got a light?” dallas avoided buck’s teasing as much as he could. but buck was right, you had caught his eye.

buck handed dallas a cigarette as dallas lit it and held it to his lips, still eyeing you closely.

you felt someone’s eyes on you, but to be honest who’s wasn’t? everyone felt eager to know who you are. it wasn’t often someone decided to settle their lives in tulsa. if anything it was more common for people to pack up and leave tulsa for good. everyone was curious to know you.

something told you to turn your head to the corner..maybe it was intuition, maybe it was just your knowledge. but you decided to do what your gut told you. 

that’s when you noticed him.

just by looking at him you could tell the kind of person he was. stuck up, unserious, to himself. he was mysterious in a way, and for some reason that drew you to him. it made you wanna know more about him. 

so being the newcomer yourself, you decided to approach him. he didn’t look any older than you..mature in face and body language but you could still tell he was your age.

as you made your way towards him you noticed him shuffle in his seat, sitting up and clearing his throat a bit. “hey” you said blankly. “hey, doll. whatsa pretty girl like you doin in this dump, huh?” the newfound nickname put a light blush on your face. luckily, neon signs filled the house, perfectly hiding in the tint. “no choice but to move here, parents forced me..” you responded, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“mm, you a soc or a grease?” dallas responded, leaning back a bit. “huh? what’s that?” your face twisted in confusion, causing dallas to let out a laugh before responding. “sorry, forgot your new doll. soc’s are the west side kids. y’know the ones that got it made. their stupid fancy cars and pathetic polo shirts. just jerks. greasers are guys like me. low-life, less money, don’t got it all like the rest do.” you didn’t know what answer to give. you sure weren’t rich and popular, yet you weren’t poor and a “low life” like he’d described.

“neither id say. i don’t live in the rich neighborhood, but not the low-life neighborhood you describe either. im just normal..” you replied. dallas nodded knowingly before changing the subject. “didn’t catch a name for ya, doll.” his new york accent strung with every word. “yn..yours?” dallas sat up in his seat, “dallas. dallas winston. the fuzz probably know my name more than anyone. call me dally.” you smiled. you’d remember that name. hell, you’d remember everything about him. from his mysterious demeanor to his thick new york accent. 

every word, every movement he made, had you wanting to know more and more about him. “and why do cops know you, dally?” he smiled at you using his nickname before he spoke. “cause i get into trouble y’know? eh at this point whenever something happens im the first the fuzz run to. jerks..” dallas muttered the last word. he’d seemed like the kind of guy who had stories to tell for days, maybe weeks. 

“enough about me doll, i wanna know about you now.” dallas smirked. “nothin much to know..” you responded hesitantly. “don’t get all shy with me doll, just wanna get to know you” dallas could see right through you, and how nervous you’d suddenly gotten. “maybe that’s enough talk..let’s drink? you a drinker?” dallas changed the subject to your comfort, something he’d never do for anyone else unbeknownst to you. there was something about you that still pulled dallas in..made him wanna know you from head to toe, whatever that meant. 

“no i’m not really a drinker but anything feels good at the moment” you laughed. dallas took this as a sign to order whatever sounded good. vodka, whiskey, even beer. just the usual, just to occupy you. you took whatever he’d given you, downing it the minute you got it and making a face of disgust. dallas laughed at the sight. “cute..” he mumbled. then, dallas had realized it. he was falling for a girl he’d barely known, his laid back “no fucks in the world” demeanor was being crushed by a new town girl. 

hours had passed, you were now drunk and tired, words seemingly slurring before you could even form a sentence. “let’s get ya home, doll” dallas said, helping you to stand and walking you out of buck’s. before he’d left, he’d asked if anyone knew where you lived. since the town wasn’t too big and you were new, it was easy for him to figure that out from anyone there.

once dallas got you home to your doorstep you were a tad bit sobered up, just enough to carry your own weight. 

“hey uh, y’know if you ever want company you can just uh, call me or somethin.. never really busy and if i don’t answer it’s cause i got in with the fuzz.” dallas said, scratching his head. you smiled at the boys pathetic yet cute words. he’d wanted your company without asking for it. “yeah sure, why not? don’t get yourself into too much trouble now, i wanna see you more dally.”

and somehow to dallas, the nickname had squeezed his heart yet again. everyone called him dally, why was it different when you said it? you’d waved goodbye to dallas and went into your house, seemingly the call for dallas to make his way back to buck’s. the whole way back, his mind was stuck on you.

you’d made his life a little more interesting, a little sweeter, a little more desireable to live in just one night. you’d made his life a little “sweet, like cinnamon”.

[cressidagrey]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 9

Summary: 

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings: 

I am retconning Merrill into not being a total bully...and Mor is kinda an idiot.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Cilla couldn’t help but stare. Of course, she had seen the House of Wind before. It was difficult not to. But she had never thought that she would get to see the inside. 

Azriel carefully let her down at the top of the house…not wanting to strain her wings with the flight upwards. So instead, he had picked her up, like she weighed nothing, cradled her to his chest and flown her up to the House of Wind. 

Cilla gazed around in wonder, taking in the sight of the massive building rising before her.

“This is the training area,” he explained, following her gaze as she looked around what…she couldn’t even describe it. Chalk Circles were drawn on the floor and she stared at them for a moment longer. 

“Nesta resurrected the Valkyries…a group of female warriors. They train up here every morning. Some of the priestesses take part. Some others just do it for the self-defence but are not interested in becoming warriors,” Azriel explained as he led her into the house. 

Cilla's eyes widened further as Azriel led her into the house, marvelling at the opulence. High ceilings, large windows, and artwork galore. "Whoever built this place must have been really rich," she breathed out, awed by the sheer size and luxury.

Azriel barked out a laugh. "You are correct," he told her. “Rich, and very vain. It was built by a High Lord of The Night Court centuries ago."

Cilla blinked, "A High Lord?" she asked, trying to imagine the kind of person who would build such a lavish house for themselves. “Why would he build a house like this?”

"Why do any of them build anything the way they do?" Azriel replied dryly. “High Fae aren’t known for their humility, I’m afraid.”

Cilla shrugged. True.

Azriel chuckled at her noncommittal response. "Come, let me show you the library. I think you will like it."

They walked down lower, into the bowels of this massive house, carved out of red stone. She needed to tuck her wings tight against herself so that she didn’t knock them into anything. Cilla followed close at Azriel's heels, her wings brushing against the stone walls. Despite having to walk so close, she didn't feel nervous or constricted. 

They came to a stop at an archway, the space beyond too dark for her to see much. "After you," Azriel said, motioning to the library. "Clotho is waiting for us," he explained. "...All the priestesses that work here...they all have their own trauma," he told her softly.

She nodded. She could hear something in his voice…not quite a warning but something that told her to listen. 

She understood why moments later, when she met Clotho. 

A hooded and cloaked figure, the hood crowned with a blue stone…

“Clotho meet Cilla,” Azriel introduced her. “Clotho is the…the one in charge,” he explained to Cilla. 

Clotho said nothing but inclined her head. 

Could she speak? 

She writes, Azriel’s shadows answered quietly. She’s unable to speak. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Clotho," Cilla said quietly, keeping her voice soft and polite.

“Cilla loves books, so we thought that maybe work in the library would suit her,” Azriel said quietly. “You mentioned that you could always use more help.”

Clotho's cloaked head turned towards her for a moment, studying her. Cilla felt a shiver run down her spine, feeling as if the cloaked figure was somehow looking into her soul.

Clotho held her gaze for another moment before giving a small nod. It was an agreement.

"Clotho will show you around the library and show you how to sort the books. If you do a good job, she might even let you read some of them,” Azriel said, giving the priestess a knowing grin.

Cilla couldn't help but smile at his words, excitement swirling in her belly. The prospect of spending her days surrounded by stacks of books was like a dream come true for her.

Cilla's eyes flicked to the papers in front of her, and she realized that they were a list of instructions on how to sort the books into their respective sections.

She read the list carefully, sounding out the letters in her head, and absorbing the information. It all seemed fairly straightforward. She lifted her gaze back to Clotho, a smile on her face. "I think I can do that," she said quietly.

Clotho gave another slow nod.

"Excellent," Azriel said, a smile playing on his lips. "I'll leave you to it then..."

He reached out and squeezed Cilla’s hand gently, his touch warm and reassuring. "You'll do great," he said quietly, before quietly slipping out of the library.

Cilla watched him go, already missing his presence, before turning back to Clotho. The cloaked priestess was watching her intently, a silent guardian over the library.

Cilla sucked in a shaky breath and squared her shoulders. She could do this.

"Where do I start?" she asked, looking back at the mountain of books that seemed to fill every shelf in the library. Clotho, still silent, lifted her hand and pointed to the far wall.

Cilla looked where she was pointing, and saw a large stack of unorganized books. "Those?" she asked, not wanting to presume.

Clotho nodded, her hood bobbing slightly. Cilla nodded back, steeling herself. "Okay."

She moved forward, grabbing the topmost book from the pile, and began to sort through them, organizing them by author and subject, just like Clotho's instructions showed her how.

It was quiet in the library...peaceful.

Cilla found that she enjoyed the silence. It allowed her to focus on the task at hand, losing herself in the familiar comfort of the books.

She fell into a rhythm, sorting the books one by one, and finding a strange sense of contentment in it.

It was helped by the fact that her shadows got to help, handing her book after book from the neat stacks she made as she shelved them.

It was a dusty job...but it was...easy in a sense.

The monotony of the task only served to lull Cilla further into the peaceful rhythm of it all. Her shadows proved to be a helpful partner, bringing her the books she needed without even needing to ask. It was almost like they knew what she needed even before she did.

And it was a far cry from the backbreaking work in the tannery, she had carried out before

Cilla couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of relief. She had never realized just how much she dreaded the prospect of working in the hot, stinking tannery, surrounded by the fumes and blood and sinew. In comparison, the library was a heaven-sent gift.

And the books. Cilla's heart was in them. As she carefully slid each volume into its designated slot on the shelf, she couldn't help but skim the words and titles, feeling a small shiver of excitement run through her. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she would take them down from the shelf and devour them.

"Who are you?" came a demanding voice behind her.

Cilla jumped, startled by the unexpected voice. Her shadows swirled around her, alarmed. She whirled around, her heart racing, to find a young priestess standing there, arms crossed and staring at her almost suspiciously.

She was beautiful. There was no way around it. Nearly white hair, light brown skin...the bluest eyes Cilla had ever seen.

Cilla couldn't help but gawk for a moment, taken in by the priestess’ beauty. But the priestess’ expression was anything but open or friendly. She raised an eyebrow, clearly awaiting an answer.

Cilla cleared her throat, feeling small under her gaze. "I...I'm Cilla," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. Cilla couldn't help but gawk for a moment, taken in by the priestess’ beauty. But the priestess’ expression was anything but open or friendly. She raised an eyebrow, clearly awaiting an answer.

The priestess looked her over with those too-blue eyes, like a predator sizing up potential prey. Cilla resisted the urge to shiver.

Finally, the priestess spoke. "And what are you doing in the library?" she asked, her voice as cool as her expression.

"Clotho hired me to help with the books," Cilla explained, trying not to shrink back from the intimidating woman. "Organizing them and whatnot."

The priestess's eyes flicked to the neat stacks of books that Cilla had been working on. For a moment, Cilla thought she saw a flicker of interest in her eyes, but it was quickly smothered by a cool aloofness again.

Her shadows twisted and swirled around her nervously, not liking the sudden scrutiny they were under.

Cilla lifted her chin, trying to match the Priestess's cool gaze with one of her own. "Yes," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I am."

The priestess nodded, but her eyes didn't leave Cilla's shadows, tracking them as they swirled about her wings.

Then, finally, her gaze slid back to Cilla's face. "Interesting," she said, something like interest in her voice.

Cilla tried to control her reaction. She wasn’t used to people taking any interest in her Shadowsinger abilities. Most of the time they just regarded her with suspicion or even fear. But this woman seemed...intrigued. Curious. It was a strange sensation.

The priestess took a step closer to her, her eyes still fixed on Cilla's shadows. She lifted a hand, as if to touch them, but pulled back at the last moment. Cilla suppressed a shiver, the intensity in those blue eyes almost unnerving."Did you ever wonder where they came from?"

The question took Cilla off guard. She looked at her shadows, fluttering around her, and frowned. She had never really thought about it. To her, they had always just...been there. A part of her.

She looked back at the priestess. "What do you mean?"

"They didn't always exist, you know," the priestess said matter-of-factly, her gaze still on the shadows. "It's said that they only came into being when the first Shadowsinger came into the world."

"How do you know that?" Cilla asked, intrigued.

The priestess turned her attention back to Cilla, a small smirk playing on her lips. "How do you think I know?" she shot back.

Cilla's shadows swirled anxiously around her, not liking the priestess's challenging tone.

"I read about it," she told Cilla.

Cilla felt a bit silly for not having guessed that herself. Of course, the priestess would know. This was a library, after all.

She gave herself a mental shake. "Right," she said, still feeling a bit off-kilter from the conversation. "So...you know a lot about Shadowsingers, then?"

"I am Merrill," she finally introduced herself.

Cilla nodded in acknowledgement. "Merrill," she repeated. "Nice to meet you."

Her shadows seemed to calm down somewhat upon hearing the priestess' name, but they still fluttered about her anxiously.

"And to answer your question," Merrill said. "There isn't much...because there aren't many shadowsingers."

Cilla's eyebrows rose up at that. "Not many?" she repeated. She hadn't really thought much about how common or rare Shadowsingers' abilities actually were. The realization that she was part of a very exclusive and rare group made her feel strangely exposed.

What about other...abilities?" Cilla asked, her head tilting to the side. "There are so many different types of powers among the fae…are some powers more common than others?"

"Ah, an interesting question," Merrill said, her lips curving into a slow smile. "You should come find me in my office sometimes... You may make a proper research assistant."

Cilla's heart skipped a beat at the words...then her wings shifted, as a flutter of excitement ran through her. "You...You mean that?" she asked, unable to keep the eagerness from her voice.

Merrill's eyes glittered, as if she was amused by her excitement. "I do," she said, her voice dry. "It's been a while since I had a decent research assistant. And with your little..." she lifted her hand to gesture at the shadows. "...abilities, you could be useful."

Cilla's heart picked up speed at the idea of being able to work with Merrill, of getting access to the library's knowledge...of being able to learn and understand her shadows and her powers more

"I'll keep that in mind," she said softly.

"See that you do," Merrill said, a hint of a command in her tone. "Now... I believe you have a job to do."

She gave her a brief nod, before turning on her heel and striding out of the library.

Cilla watched her go, still feeling a bit rattled by the exchange. She let out a soft sigh, her shadows swirling around her in agitation.

Interesting was one word for it, she thought.

"By the cauldron, you do look just like him," another female voice breathed and for one moment Cilla wondered how many other people were going to just drop by unannounced.

Blonde hair, brown eyes...a bright red dress. And somehow, she put her right on edge. Cilla wasn't sure what it was, but she reached out inside her for that golden thread that connected her to Azriel, and yanked.

"I am Mor!"

"H...hi," Cilla replied, trying to sound calm and nonchalant, despite the strange feeling in her gut. The shadows kept swirling around her anxiously.

She’s…a friend of Cassian, Azriel’s shadows told her, but something…something was off. 

Cilla could sense their warning, their caution. It made her own body feel uneasy. She'd always trusted her own shadows' instincts when it came to people.

Her own shadows were poised to act as a shield…hissing to her, words that were too quiet to make much sense.

Cilla felt her own instincts starting to kick in, a strange sense of danger raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

Mor took a step closer, her eyes roving over Cilla's form with a critical eye. The shadows around Cilla hissed, almost angrily, and she unconsciously took a cautious step back.

"You look...so much like him," Mor murmured, her voice a mixture of wonder and something like sorrow. She took another step closer, as if unable to help herself, her gaze roaming over Cilla's face.

Cilla's heart pounded in her chest at the intensity of Mor's gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable under it. Her wings flattened against her back, and she could feel her shadows bristling with alarm.

"Morrigan," Azriel said sharply, suddenly appearing behind her.

Mor gasped, turning around quickly, her expression caught between embarrassment and surprise. She looked at Azriel like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Azriel's gaze flickered to Cilla, taking in her tense stance and the swirling shadows around her. His eyes narrowed as he looked back at Mor.

"I thought Cassian told you to wait," he said sharply.

Mor's eyes widened, guilt flashing across her face. "I know," she said softly, her voice almost sheepish. "But I couldn't help myself. I had to see..."

She trailed off, her eyes roaming back to Cilla again.

Cilla felt a mixture of relief and discomfort at Azriel's arrival, her shadows settling slightly at his presence. But she couldn't help the shiver that went down her spine as Mor's gaze came back to her, as if the faerie woman was trying to drink her in.

Azriel moved to place himself between Mor and Cilla, his stance protective and challenging. Mor's gaze flicked to him, and something like annoyance flared up in her eyes.

"You're spoiling my fun," she said, her voice laced with petulance.

"SHe's not some kind of pet for you to gawk at," Azriel cut her off sharply.

Mor let out an exasperated huff, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm not 'gawking' at her," she retorted, her jaw clenching. "I'm just...observing."

"You're scaring her," Azriel said, his voice low. His eyes flicked back to Cilla, making sure she was alright. She gave him a small nod, feeling slightly reassured by his presence.

Mor's expression softened slightly at Azriel's words, but then her eyes flicked back to Cilla again. Cilla could practically feel her gaze tracing her features, like an artist trying to commit them to memory.

Azriel must have noticed it too, as he subtly stepped in front of Cilla again, blocking Mor's view.

"Enough, Mor," he said, his voice firm. "You've seen enough."

Mor let out an annoyed sigh, her eyes narrowing. "But I didn't get the chance to ask her questions," she protested.

"You won't be asking her any questions," Azriel said firmly. His stance was like a solid wall between Cilla and Mor, protective and unyielding. His shadows swirled around him, like sentinels standing guard.

"She's my niece," Mor gave back.

Cilla's heart skipped a beat. Niece...?

"You didn't mention me?!" Mor complained. "Az!"

"It...didn't seem necessary," Azriel said gruffly, his expression almost sheepish.

Cilla tried to process this newly revealed familial relationship. She had...an aunt? Her mind was spinning at this sudden revelation.

"Mor is Rhysand's cousin...and like a sister to Cassian," Azriel explained with a sigh.

Cilla felt her mind trying to comprehend the tangled web of family connections. So Mor was the High Lord's cousin and was close to her own mate?

The shadows around her were strangely silent, almost as if they too were trying to make sense of it all.

But Mor wasn't like a sister to Azriel?

Cilla could sense an undercurrent of complicated history there, as if there were things left unspoken.

The Morrigan…was…a long time ago, Master, harboured some…unreturned feelings for her? Azriel’s shadows answered, sounding nearly sheepish. Nothing ever happened! 

The admission from the shadows made something click in Cilla's mind. All the pieces were beginning to fall into place. Mor...and Azriel...

She glanced at her mate, taking in his uncomfortable expression. Something had definitely happened...or hadn't happened but perhaps should have...Between them.

"It's not what you think, I swear, Cilla," Azriel said quietly, grimacing.

Cilla felt a pang of sympathy for him. She could see the regret in his eyes, and the lingering discomfort he felt whenever Mor was around. But she also felt an unwanted surge of jealousy at the idea of past feelings between him and Mor.

"Oh. OH. No, you don't...You don't need to worry about that!" Mor hurried to add. "I...I always preferred females," she admitted.

Cilla blushed bright red at Mor's admission. She had assumed...well, assumed the obvious. But perhaps her assumption had been too hasty.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh of relief, his shoulders drooping slightly. Cilla glanced at him, feeling a pang of sympathy for her mate. It must still be...unpleasant...to be around the person who you'd had unrequited feelings for.

"Oh, you're adorable," Mor said, a genuine smile brightening her face as she looked at Cilla, taking in her blushing cheeks. Then her attention swiveled to Azriel. "You're a lucky male, Az. She’s very pretty, you know," she teased, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Azriel flushed at Mor's words, a rare show of colour on his usually cool features. He averted his gaze, looking both embarrassed and somewhat pleased. "Thank you," he mumbled, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture.

Cilla couldn't help but be endeared by the sight of her mate blushing.

[partycule]

through the power of staring at rich merrils torso until something clicks you too can figure how to deal with designing isabeau.

transparent isabeaus and notes on hcs under cut

Isabeau in my style is uhhh, very Square and Very Round. I try not to draw him with like, visible muscle Definition beyond some solidity to the flesh — i try to keep him different from how i draw mirabelle, who's also buff and fat in my hcs but in a different way.

I try to keep the same thing that insertdisc5 does, but to his whole body? I round off any sharp edges, and extend it to his knuckles, elbows, hips — everything, really.

He's hairy. This is not necessarily canon and in fact actively contradicts considering scenes we see, but i enjoy hairy men, and it fits him, so into the design it goes.

Under his scruffy beard, i give him a bit of a baby face... Every time i see isabeau i think of these young, body positive gym influencers who are nerds about the science of muscle development, which is basically irl bodycraft when you think about it. I excuse it with insertdisc5 mentioning hes the second youngest of the party.

I also extend his freckles past the canon length — also because i want to. His facial features, especially his eyes, are deliberately a bit uncanny... I like to think in Vaugarde, bodycraft has given them some very distinct proportions over the generations, sorta like how it happens with the sims 4. Or with plastic surgery, but if plastic surgery actually changed your genes a little bit and also went beyond the beauty standards.

[sapphim]

there was a post I made once where I paraphrased merrill saying that if anders survived the joining then carver would be fine as anders had, if I recall, "the approximate constitution of wet tissue paper"

and someone, too long ago for me to still be this petty about it, added some tags to the tune of, that is rich coming from merrill, who has a similar small baby constitution

HELLO? of course I'm still this petty about it. miss bleeds-all-over while hurling boulders around with her mind?? little miss tramps through the woods and all over town barefoot???? do NOT be deceived by her waifish frame and glistening anime eyes she will be the last cockroach alive after the apocalypse

[zot3-flopped]

Reading that article from the sunday times and just gagging:

"Upstairs, in a corner room, was where she asked for three books to be read and five songs to be played to her every night",

"According to family friends they drove a Chevrolet Suburban — an SUV fit for the secret service — sent Christmas cards showing their impressive holidays and brought their daughter’s pony to school for show and tell.",

"The family would also give teachers the keys to their holiday home as a thank-you present.",

"They had a hot tub on the patio, a jetty with a boat from which they waterskiied and two jet skis. They were also members of the sailing club.",

"“When Taylor was young, the family came over for dinner and the kids were all swimming,” Hand says. “They [Swift’s parents] asked me if I had the Disney channel and I said no. There was some country singer on that was Taylor’s idol — and so they got up and they left.”,

"Her father, Scott, now 72, grew up nearby. He was a financial adviser at the investment firm Merrill Lynch. Swift’s mother, Andrea, now 66, was a marketing executive born into a wealthy family who grew up between Singapore and Houston, Texas. Andrea’s father was the president of a construction company, her mother an opera singer.",

"A third-generation banker and former radio salesman, he updated them on which songs she had cut (I am told he spent $10,000 on building her a recording studio at their home); which singles were coming out next (by the age of 15, Taylor had a record deal with a company in which Scott had bought a 3 per cent stake); where she was touring (he had bought Cher’s former tour bus for her); and the awards for which she needed votes.",

"During the long, hot summer days Swift would walk through town, her guitar slung across her back, much to the judgment of the local girls.",

"Swift gave out wallet-sized photos of herself as Sandy to the kids in the years below her at school",

"Her notebook, he claims, was filled with pages of her own autograph.",

"Many, however, thought she was “a bit of a brat”, from the moneyed side of town and modelling clothes for Abercrombie & Fitch. At 16, Swift bought a Lexus SC430 convertible, the car driven by Regina George, the meanest girl in Mean Girls.",

"Swift made an entrance when she first arrived at Hendersonville High School, says a former classmate, telling people she was going to be a star. “We kind of rolled our eyes because, being in Nashville, we hear that a lot,” she says. “It was just such a strong statement for someone of that age.”

Underdog who??? Tbh it's not just TS being obnoxious, rich, spoiled brat flaunting her wealth left and right, it's her entire immediate family.

“There were times when, in middle school and junior high, I didn’t have a lot of friends,” she told the Great American Country network in 2008." damn, I wonder why. /s

Classic nepo baby.

[sadiegirl2021]

Eris has to be Gwyn’s grandfather! Why would SJM write all this for nothing?

That comment from Eris:

Eris glared. “Not as far as the firstborn, but yes, Rhysand.”

That comment from Gwyn:

My grandmother was a river-nymph who seduced a High Fae male from the Autumn Court.

Feyre meeting Eris, her flame recognising his (ACOWAR):

I felt it then—stirring awake as if some stick had poked it. As if being here, in this territory, amongst its blooded royals, had somehow sparked it to life, boiling past that poison.

Nesta meeting Gwyn, her power recognising her (unknown) flames:

A crackling sort of energy buzzed around her, and Nesta’s power grumbled in answer.

(How Feyre described her rising Autumn court flames - My blood heated, and I took a breath to cool it, to cool the magic crackling at the insult.”

Eris talking about the Made dagger - Eris sucked in a breath. Feyre said, “You can sense its power.” 

“There’s flame in it,” Eris said, not touching the dagger.)

We learn Lucien (and Eris) have a last name in ACOWAR:

Feyre - “Vanserra?”

Cassian - “You never knew his family name?”

When Gwyn tells Nesta her full name:

Unusual, for these Fae to use family names.

Eris to Cassian:

“Get that pitying look off your face,” Eris snarled softly. “I know what sort of creature my father is. I don’t need your sympathy.”

Gwyn to Nesta:

Gwyn marked the change. “I don’t need your pity.” The words were sharp, as clear as her teal eyes.

Eris and Gwyn can both scent people like smokehounds apparently:

Eris sniffed the night breeze. Then smiled. “She couldn’t be bothered to come inside to say hello?”

How he’d detected Mor’s lingering scent, Cassian didn’t know. Perhaps Eris and his smokehounds had more in common than he realised.

(Nesta) “How can you tell?” With their hoods on, they appeared nearly identical save for their hands.

“Their scents,” Gwyn said simply, and turned to the books she’d left on the cart.

Characteristics and Mannerism: 

Towering over me (Feyre talking about Eris)

Her full height, which was slightly taller than average for Fae females (Nesta meeting Gwyn)

His red hair glinting like fire

(Her) hair shining like molten metal

His hair shone like embers in the dappled light.

Faelight danced in the rich coppery chestnut of her pin-straight hair

Eris’s face filled with cool amusement.

The priestess’s eyes glittered with amusement.

Eris snorted.

Gwyn snorted.

But Eris shrugged a shoulder.

But Gwyn shrugged.

Earning a withering glare from Eris.

Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him.

He was not graceful like Eris.

As graceful as Gwyn had been.

Eris reached out a long, slender hand, letting the falling petals gather there.

With her slender, elegant limbs.

How did Eris know that?

Gwyn said, those teal eyes noticing too much.

(Eris) Was willing to be tortured to keep their secrets.

Gwyn went through her own torture to protect the children at the temple.

But though Eris’s angular features were handsome, no light shone in his eyes. No joy.

The priestess had been pretty in the library, but with that joy, that confidence as she aimed for the three priestesses, she had emerged into a beauty to rival Merrill or Mor.

[boatboys]

tummbies U_U

[splickedylit]

Anonymous asked: can you draw fencing sol or hoverboarding rich. i love their faces very much and sporty boys are cool

The fact that this is about as much fun as Sol experiences in his life and he's not even aware that "fun" is what he's experiencing tells you a lot about him as a person I think

[rollerskatinglizard]

The sequel I'm writing is not the one I expected, and it's moving very slowly, but I'm having fun!

-

Rich has been in Motorcity for five days when Mike, folk hero and recently-freed co-leader of the Burners, walks into the hideout rec room and sits down on Rich’s lap.

“Hey,” he says, grinning.

“Um!” says Rich. “Hi?”

Rich is only in here because no one else is—not that he’s trying to avoid Mike, but since getting free, Mike’s been sticking to the other Burners like glue, and Rich does kind of want to avoid Julie and Texas. Julie Kane is terrifying, and Texas is annoying as hell because he refuses to give up on the idea that Rich and Julie are twins.

Rich was not expecting a surprise Mike visit, especially not a Mike straddling his lap and grinning at him like that. There’s a reckless edge to that grin that Rich has a bad feeling about.

“Hi!” Mike says cheerfully. “So, I think we should have sex.”

Chapters: 4/4 Fandom: Motorcity (Cartoon), After the Storm - Hannah Birchwood & Key Dyson & Raymond Roach Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mike Chilton/Chuck, Mike Chilton/Chuck/Rich Merrill Characters: Richard Merrill (After the Storm), Mike Chilton, Chuck (Motorcity) Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sexual Slavery, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, induced amnesia, Explicit Consent, Non-consensual Medical Procedures, the techies are mostly decent, Deluxe is not, Rescue, Happy Ending, The PRT Remix, or: the Sad Bootyshorts Return!, Aphrodisiacs Series: Part 7 of Rich Merrill, Deluxe edition, Part 3 of PRT verse Summary: Instead of sending a crew of friendly ladies to entertain Rich and his fellow techs for the evening, KaneCo sent a time-bomb by the name of Mike Chilton. As dangerous as he looks, Chilton’s in bad shape, and Rich is the only guy brave–or stupid–enough to take on the responsibility of looking after him. Except for Chuck, which is even worse, because he’s recovering from a memory wipe, and Chilton’s gonna hurt him if he’s not careful.

If Rich has to sit in on their hot, touching… reunion to make sure they both stay okay, that’s just what he’ll have to do.

Final chapter! Rescues, driving cars through 40th floor windows, discussions of polyamory, and Chuck and Rich are in serious trouble!

[werepuppy-steve]

april fic rec

a monthly rec list to help me handle my tbr

<- march fic rec ❀ more fic recs ❀ my ao3

jake from state farm - T, complete @matchingbatbites

tags: modern au, cheating (not between steddie), getting together, valentines day

After a moment the ringing stops, and a voice says "Hello?" "Uh, hi, is this Steve?" "It is, who is this?" "It's Eddie, Jake's roommate? I got your number from him." Well, from his phone when he'd left it unattended one day, but Steve doesn't need to know the details. "I really, really hate to be making this call, especially the day before Valentine's, but uh. Jake is cheating on you."

wrong number - G, complete @steddiealltheway

tags: modern au, texting, getting together, friends to lovers

Steve waits a few more minutes before he makes his way out of the house and goes to his own. Once he gets into his room, he pulls out the piece of paper and types it into his contacts - after messing up the password and struggling to find his contacts. Steve: So not a serial killer I hope? There’s instantly some typing back that worries Steve. Shouldn’t Robin be distracted by her date? Robin: Not a serial killer but you might be… who is this? You intrigue me. Not Robin. Steve’s heart races as he looks at the scrap of paper. Damn scribbled mess.

Baby, It's Cold Outside - T, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, nightmares, ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff

He was blissfully asleep in bed when a sudden cold shock to his back awoke him. Steve yelped, “Jesus!” And turned around to see who had snuck into his house this early in the morning (it’s only nine) and came face to face with his boyfriend, Eddie. “Eds, what the fuck? Hello? Hi? What happened to those? Christ.”

Am I The Asshole? - N/A, 5.6k, complete cairparavels

tags: modern au, AITA, getting together, autistic eddie, misunderstandings, fuck chad all my homies hate chad

Eddie hates his best friend’s new boyfriend and believes it is proof that he is homophobic. He takes to reddit to find out.

We could plant a house, we could build a tree - E, 3.7k, complete what_about_the_fish

tags: breeding kink, established relationship, feminization

When Eddie's dirty mouth stumbles into an interesting kink that makes Steve moan, they have to explore it further. A messy smut filled ride through Steve's breeding kink.

Come on Baby, Eat the Rich - E, 4.2k, complete nativity_in_black

tags: mild exhibitionism, daddy kink, feminization, dom/sub

“Eddie, we can’t- you know how they are. Just a bunch of rich snobs who think they own the place. What if we get caught?”, he worried aloud, trying to keep his voice steady as Eddie smoothed his hands along Steve’s waist. “Mm,”, Eddie hummed in thought, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Clicking his tongue, he looked back up at Steve, “Guess we’ll just have to be quiet, then. What do you say, baby?”

Come Back To Me - T, 3.8k, complete @beetlesandstarss

tags: major/temporary character death, grief/mourning, angst with a happy ending

“Where— uh. Where are you gonna bury him?” Eddie asks. “We’ve got… We’ve got some of his stuff. A box. We thought maybe…” “That’s a fine idea, son,” Steve’s grandpa says. And then, “Next to his parents seems the most fitting.” And— oh. Oh, God. No. Steve’s parents are— Are they dead too? (Or, Steve dies. And then he comes back.)

Hazy Shade - T, 5k, complete weird_witchcraft

tags: season 2 compliant, canon divergence, eddie gets involved earlier

Eddie stumbles into Merrill’s farm late at night on Sunday, November 4th, 1984 and runs into the last person he’d expect to see: Steve Harrington.

Worth the Effort - T, 9k, complete @solarmorrigan

tags: post-s2, friends to lovers, eddie takes care of steve, sick fic, hurt/comfort

Eddie ambles up and drapes himself against Steve’s locker door, head tossed back and eyelashes fluttering wildly. “Oh, Steve,” he simpers, high and breathy, “aren’t you going to whisk me away for a whirlwind Valentine’s romance?” “I’d love to, but I’m pretty sure I have a stats test tomorrow,” Steve drawls, sending a sidelong smirk at Eddie. “Ugh. Romance is dead,” Eddie declares. - In which Eddie contends with his crush on Steve Harrington, learns what a migraine is, and gets a valentine, more or less in that order.

nice to meet you, where you been? - T, 3/3, complete @flowercrowngods

tags: modern au, tattoo artist steve, friends to lovers, ace steddie, transmasc eddie, i could scream forever about how lovely this fic is

When Eddie enters the tattoo parlour that Chrissy recommended to him, he doesn't know what'll hit him. Never in a million years would he have expected the pastel or the minimalistic decor or how really fucking polished everything about this place is. It's like an antithesis to Eddie's entire existence has been created with the makings of this shop. The absolute cherry on top is the man that walks into the room to greet him, though. Because there is no way that Steve Harrington, whom Eddie had the maddest crush on in high school, owns a tattoo shop. No way. Nuh-uh. Not dressed in pastel like he is. Eddie wants to hate it. But he doesn't account for how genuinely amazing Steve is, or how crushing on him is the easiest thing. Really, it's a losing game from the start.

Mutually Beneficial - E, 1.2k, complete @steddie-island | kintsugi_kid

tags: mean dom eddie, age difference, power imbalance, choking, bottom steve

It had started innocently enough, with Steve getting kicked out as soon as he’d graduated and with Eddie Munson, town outcast, advertising a room for rent and a kid who needed a sitter. Moving in would be mutually beneficial. It evolved into, “Pretty thing, you take care of me… and I’ll take care of you.” Really, how was Steve supposed to argue with that?

Love and Smoke - T, series, WIP @stevieschrodinger

tags: cottage witch steve, snake familiar eddie, fluff

She sighs, rolling over on the couch like Steve’s just committed a huge offense, “I just don’t understand why you're so against it.” “There are a lot of reasons why a familiar is a bad idea Robbie.” And because they’ve been over this what feels like a hundred times, Steve can list them easily, “it’ll be fur or feathers, so not only would they shed on my furniture, and I’ll have fur or whatever everywhere, you know I don’t do so well with bird dander. Makes me sniffly. They get separation anxiety, so they have to go with you everywhere. Not exactly going to be convenient if I pull a- a – dire wolf or something, and you want to go to the movies. And if I leave them home alone, it would be cruel.” “You might get something small and hairless! Like a- a frog!” Rob insists. Steve just rolls his eyes and huffs, “but I might not. So no. Also, a frog? Really?” Not that Steve has anything against frogs particularly, just...where the hell would it stay? The sink? “Steve!” “I said no Robbie, okay. I’m not lonely. I have my garden, my books, I have plenty to do. I see you at the weekend, I see plenty of people at Tuesday Market. I am fine.”

Can I Kiss You? - G, complete @transvampireboyfriend

tags: crushes, first kiss, fluff

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, eyes glued to the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie is sitting on his couch and Steve is hanging out across from him, lounging on Wayne’s recliner. He gets to use it whenever Wayne’s at work, with his explicit permission and now priority, since Eddie was jealous enough to start a mock argument and Wayne took Steve’s side just to tease his nephew. So now Eddie has to give that place up whenever Steve’s over. Which, he almost always is, these days.

If Found, Return to Me - G, complete @steviewashere

tags: established relationship, couples t-shirts

He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

fear the inky blackness of night - T, complete @griefabyss69

tags: post-s4, pre-steddie, steve getting over his fear of the dark

So when Eddie walks into his room, as he does, you know, like a person will just walk into the room he sleeps in, bed and dresser and guitars and all, he doesn’t expect there to just be… A fucking guy in there.

burgundy kiss - E, 6.5k, complete @hawkinsbnbg

tags: soulmates, modern au, dom/sub, under-negotiated kink, daddy kink, light breeding kink

Steve got Good boy inscribed on his butt, just on the right cheek. It would be funny if it was a tattoo Steve had gotten one time when he was too drunk and on a dare. Except it wasn't a tattoo. At all. Even though it kind of looked like one. In truth, it was the first word his soulmate would say to him.

Or, a meet-sexy story where Steve's soulmate is a man of culture.

dance with the devil - E, 2/?, WIP @sourw0lfs

tags: modern au, guardian angel eddie, monster steve, magic

The apartment is quiet around him, the only sound is the rush in his ears from the growing hangover, but it’s not so big he can’t find the owner. When he finally does, Steve actually throws up. If it weren’t for the smallest sliver of still clean blond hair amidst the sea of blood-clump strands, Steve wouldn’t even believe that the mangled corpse in front of him is the same guy as the night before. What the fuck happened? OR: The one where Steve turns 21 and his life turns upside down in the worst ways, complete with gaining the most obnoxious guardian angel known to man

go for it - T, 4.6k, complete @steveseddie | mseg_21

tags: flirting, getting together, pining, first kiss

Steve huffs. “What makes you so sure that you can convince me?” He asks with an arched eyebrow. “The kids have tried and failed and you know how relentless they are.” “Yeah, but I can be very persuasive.” He gestures at himself with a hand flourish. “You know, as a cult leader and all.” Steve hums. “Of course.” He leans his hip against the counter, only an inch away from Eddie’s thigh. “There’s gotta be something I can do to convince you,” Eddie says, moving his thigh until it touches Steve’s hip. “Something I can give you in exchange. To make it worth your while.” Steve’s eyes immediately dart down to Eddie’s lips. Eddie’s stomach swoops. There it is. or Eddie and Steve finally stop dancing around each other- too bad that the Hellfire Club is there to witness it

The Hawk - T, series, WIP @fastcardotmp3

tags: nancy wheeler centric, "the bear" au, multi pov, grief/mourning, character studies

A "The Bear" AU about the restaurant that falls into Nancy Wheeler's lap and the people that help her make it more than a burden. (Ensemble, Multi-POV)

the sweetest thing - E, 7/7, complete @cranberrymoons

tags: no nut november, established relationship, dom/sub undertones

It had started out simple enough between them, Eddie making some off-hand comment about Steve not being able to hold out for a whole month and Steve, ever unable to back down from a challenge, rising to the bait. “Whatever,” he’d said, rolling his eyes. “A month? Please.” He could do a month. Easy. He just hadn't counted on Eddie being – well. Himself. eddie goads steve into a No Nut November challenge; he never said anything about taking it easy on him

The Hole Story - E, series, complete @griefabyss69

tags: pre-relationship, fantasizing, slow burn, rimming

Steve wishes he hates the way he can't stop thinking about Eddie's tongue.

surface-level freak - E, 7k, complete @starryeyedjanai

tags: modern au, transmasc steve, werewolf eddie, human steve

Steve Harrington, Werewolf Fucker. He thinks he should be able to put that on his business card, but Robin says it's a little crass.

But My Heart Is Just A Little Boy - T, 2k, complete Atalia_Gold

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, steve has dyscalculia

“Look, just carry on without me,” Steve muttered, and stood up quick enough that his chair scraped on the floor. “Steve -” Dustin started, but Steve was finished, striding towards the stairs and blinking back tears. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the kids, not over a fucking game, not over something his boyfriend loved so much. But they were coming faster than he could blink them back as he headed out of Mike’s stuffy basement and out to the driveway, the cold night air caressing his flushed face. This was supposed to have been a treat for Eddie. It was supposed to be fun, and Steve had ruined the night by being fucking stupid. ***** Steve wanted to surprise Eddie by joining in on D&D. Unfortunately, he's struggling with the math involved, and the kids aren't making it any easier.

Just a Shirt - T, 1k, complete @shares-a-vest

tags: established relationship, fluff, love confessions

Eddie makes Steve a customised Hellfire shirt, just for him.

The Taste of the Divine - E, 4.3k, complete tsmkeeler

tags: steddie as roommates, phone sex operator eddie, dom/sub, getting together

The exhale Steve was releasing staggered, and Eddie’s ears caught what sounded like Steve’s moan. The shuffling on the other side of the line reminded him he was on the clock and this was a good paying customer. He couldn’t just drop the line to handle Steve. He just needed to get him back in position and doing something, then he could get Steve out of there. He made a correcting noise. “On. Your. Knees.” Little brat thought he could do whatever he wanted for the pleasure. To Eddie’s surprise, Steve lowered to his knees. His chin tilted to his chest, hands on the tops of his thighs. He was sitting so pretty. What was stiff was now throbbing against the rough material of his dark jeans. “Yes, sir,” Steve replied breathily. Surely, Eddie was asleep and this was a night fantasy well beyond his best daydreams. There was no way. No fucking way. OR Steve and Eddie aren't only co-workers, they're roommates. While working his second job late at night, Eddie forgets to close the door and is pleasantly surprised by his roommates willingness to join him.

The Right Wrong Number - M, 8/8, complete @apomaro-mellow

tags: wrong number, getting together, phone sex, first meetings, modern au

Steve gets the wrong number and starts texting an interesting guy.

Kinktober 2023 - E, 19/19, complete @stevesjockstrap | deansdemondick

tags: kinktober, multiple pairings

Kinky Drabbles for October 😈

The End Of The Line - E, 6.4k, complete entanglednow

tags: post-s4, nightmares, (platonic) mutual masturbation, phone sex, feelings realization, fantasies, humor (like so much humor this fic made me laugh so hard)

Eddie knows better than to ignore a phone ringing in the middle of the night. After everything they've done for him the least he can do is be there for a friend in need.

Never Caught my Breath - E, 6.1k, complete @emchant3d

tags: established relationship, dom/sub, service dom eddie, role reversal (kind of), needy dom eddie, transmasc steve, daddy kink

“I know you had a long, long day,” he tells him, his touch tracing down, down, down, Eddie’s torso shivering beneath the ticklish drag of his hand, “so why don’t you just let me take care of you, huh? Does that sound nice?” “Yeah, baby,” Eddie says, barely more than a whisper. “Yeah, that sounds real fuckin’ nice.” Eddie works too hard. Steve helps him relax.

You're the Missing Piece - E, 7.9k, complete brokenpromisesandhope

tags: modern au, established stancy, polyamory negotiations, 5+1, stoncy endgame, exhibitionism,my first stoncy read and it made me feel Emotions idk

5 times Steve, Nancy and Jonathan had sex without each other and one time they did it together.

[dreadfutures]

The Brave Guide, Ch 84 - Brothers in Arms

Ixchel and Valor present her companions with competing visions of courage: that which was and must be lived with, and that which could be in visions of regret. Ixchel knows how tempting (and troublesome) revising history can be.

In Garrett’s voice, she heared Valor. “I really did kill my brother that day,” it said with dark fury. “I should have just let you die.” “Merrill’s working on a cure,” Carver said. “How many times do I have to tell you, you’re not getting rid of me that easy?” “What will the other Wardens think of that?” Valor retorted. “Isn’t that a coward’s way out?” “Are you accusing me?” Carver demanded. “You haven’t done anything to be accused of. Except running from every responsibility you’ve ever had.” “Me?!” Carver barked. “That’s rich coming from you, go-fuck-off-to-a-cave Garrett Hawke.”

The Brave Guide is a canon-divergent Dragon Age longfic. It continues the story of Dead Pasts and Dread Futures, in which Lavellan was sent back in time against her will after the Dread Wolf’s plans destroyed the world.

The series follows Inquisitor Ixchel Lavellan and her battle to find hope for herself, and hope for Thedas. As the world ends, Ixchel is resurrected under mysterious circumstances and is sent back in time to the Conclave. Ixchel is furious, convinced of her own futility, and yet she cannot give up again. These are the stories of how she gets better.

[Read from the Beginning] | [Current Chapter] | [TLDR] | [Other Fics]

[theluckywizard]

Kiss Me Moonstruck, Ch. 9: Mistakes are Made

Hawke x Trevelyan | Dragon Age 2 | Matchmaking Mischief | Fluff and Smut | Fish out of Water | Romantic Comedy

Gif by dearest-and-nearest

Chapter Summary:

Rose stews in the delights of The Hanged Man. Garrett enjoys himself a little too much.

Fic Summary:

Smashed together in a matchmaking scheme cooked up by their enterprising mothers, Garrett Hawke and Rose Trevelyan are forced to endure one another for a whole week over Satinalia at the Hawke Estate. Rose hears he’s a swashbuckling treasure hunter, as wild as he is handsome and as ill-bred as he is rich. Garrett suspects she’s a brat of an ingenue by the string of rejected marriage proposals behind her. Determined to prove to the other that they could not be less compatible, they quickly find their mothers’ plot might be working better than they thought.

Excerpt under the cut 👇

Garrett’s friends seem to be kidnapping her.

“Just bring her back in one piece,” calls Garrett, watching her go with his arms crossed. Rose peeks at him over her shoulder, watching as Garrett is promptly solicited for another dance by a woman squeezed perilously into a bodice with her shoulders out. Rose wonders what it is about the partial outfits in these parts. It’s Firstfall. When Garrett declines, the most absurd sense of relief crashes through her.

“Something tells me you’re thirsty,” says Isabela, sweeping Rose along to the bar, her jewelry clinking as she slinks along. Elbow on the bar, the woman studies Rose with an incisive smirk that leaves her sure she’s about to be dissected five ways.

“So you’ve come to stake a claim, have you?” says Isabela, catching a bottle that comes sliding down the wet bar. She stands and leans into the barkeep’s space to claim three tiny tin cups for herself. Isabela lifts her chin in the direction of Garrett. “Ladies have been queuing up for him since he struck it rich. Even before.”

Rose searches for the right retort as the woman pours three fuming cups of whatever is in that bottle.

“There’s no need for blushes,” says Isabela. “I’m a fortune hunter myself.”

Merrill looks dazzled. “Are you a pirate, too?” She glances between Rose and Isabela. “Oh— you meant something different.”

Rose levels a frosty look at Isabela. “This isn’t my scheme. I’m just trying to make it through the week without collapsing under the weight of my boredom.”

Beneath a trenchant stare, Isabela nudges a brimming cup toward Rose. “I’ll toast to that. A drink for the stout-hearted.”

Well she won’t let a little liquor cow her. Rose throws back the booze. A pathetic croak pops out of her before she coughs once, her eyes stinging and watering. Rose glances between Merrill and Isabela who watch her with equal interest though Merrill only peeks over the top of delicate sips of the same stuff while a feline smile spreads across the pirate’s face.

“You claim you aren’t here for Hawke, but that doesn’t explain the dancing. The smiles. The utter unwillingness to partner with anyone else.”

“I think he likes her,” offers Merrill. But the pirate is playing a deeper game, one beyond the elf’s callow suppositions.

Rose huffs. “Can’t a woman flirt without it becoming an entire romantic plot?”

“Of course. Flirt. Frolic. Fuck,” says Isabela. She lingers over that last word with such suggestion that she practically tills the idea into Rose’s mind.

“A romantic plot sounds lovely, though, doesn’t it?” says Merrill, becoming the second person to pick up Rose’s braid, stroking it in curious admiration.

Isabela appraises her again, the bottle tinging beneath her fingernails. She refills Rose’s cup.

“Still. By my standards you’ve entered shit-or-get-off-the-pot territory.”

“What does shit have to do with anything?” Merrill whispers to Rose. But Rose is busy searching for Garrett’s head towering over everyone else’s, lifting her chin to peer over other guests that press toward the bar, squeezing into spaces on either side of her and the other two. Something small inside her crumbles when she doesn’t find him.

“He’s just there,” says Merrill helpfully, pointing to a table. Garrett sits flanked by other revelers in affable conversation, gesturing with their cups. Transfixed by the way he drops his head when he laughs, by his waggish slouch in his chair, by all the ways he’s scrappy round the edges, Rose flushes. He looks up, spearing her with a dashing smile across the mayhem and then raises his tankard to her. She answers with her tiny cup.

“Just look at that mushy face,” says Merrill, her affection for him plain.

Read the rest here | Start the fic here

DAFF Tag List

@about2dance | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @blarrghe | @bluewren | @breninarthur

@crackinglamb | @delicatefade | @dreadfutures | @effelants | @exalted-dawn-drabbles 

@hekaerges | @inquisimer | @ir0n-angel | @leggywillow | @oxygenforthewicked

 @plisuu | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @queenaeducan | @warpedlegacy

[kirkwallguy]

it's kind of strange how much GBF woobified Dorian is (I love him with all my heart) cause he's just so cancelableqmhelwhs i mean he fucks up in conversations so bad you just go "honey i know you don't have a bad intent but please shut the fuck up 😭" this is not a dorian bashing tbh i think his character writing makes interesting points to think about!!

coming across to this from solas point of view or lavellan is a whole another thing like imagine a guy from rich magister parents who of course benefit from labour of elves, whom his country enslaved then steal and appropriate a shit ton of their culture and civilization, just starts talking like this (the way he does in solas party banters or weird defensiveness whenever slavery topic comes up. idk if it was writers who fucked it up though. They just didn't do arguments well in that game tbh...)

BUT one thing about that is that i love how Dorian's character shows a person of high class that benefits from exploitation, colonisation etc. can be. Like he's denied all of that he's progressive and thoughtful and a really caring person but just can't shake off the drops of elitism. It really puts a perspective that if you don't question things you can't face them and therefore don't change (i think his defensiveness on slavery came from that because defensiveness as an act in general can be something like that psychologically)

i love them both so much but i think solas deserved to stuck that wand up to his ass the way i think merrill deserved to do it to fenris for their own party banter at some point 😭😭😭

honestly the gbf-ification of dorian is kind of predictable since he's the only gay man (they just pretend the bi men are straight lol), and by definition gbf-ification strips a character of all their personality in order to make them a cute accessory. but it really is SOOOOO funny. girl your designer purse dog is justifying slavery and biting the rest of your companions PLEASE reign him in.

tbh i think dorian sucking is realistic and makes sense, the thought process behind it is really good, but it just doesn't work in dai for so many reasons. you can't meaningfully challenge his views and when you DO attempt to you get disapproval (which just feels like a punishment/setback since the only way to really progress with companions is through approval. even the same feature in dao felt more balanced since you could be strategic with your gift giving), companions get one quest each so no chance of meaningful exploration there, and ofc banter is broken so any character development there never triggers. AURGH. he could've been so interesting

[bitter69uk]

Heartfelt gratitude to the attendees of last night’s Lobotomy Room cinema club presentation of Butterfield 8 (1960) at Fontaine’s! Some musings based on my introduction: Butterfield 8 is the story of the doomed love affair between a Manhattan call girl and a rich married man. (Seriously – who among us can’t relate?). Sure, the film has a terrible reputation but that’s what this film club is for - reappraising “bad” movies. I’d argue Butterfield 8 is juicy, irresistible good fun. If it’s trash, Butterfield 8 is the acme of trash. Rewatching it, I was struck by the persistent strain of melancholy throughout the film. You just know it’s all going to end tragically. The opening moments of Elizabeth Taylor waking up alone, hungover and naked in bed, donning a white slip, sparking the first cigarette of the day and prowling around silently feels like something out of a European art movie. It boasts snappy, biting quotable dialogue. Considering it was made during the Hays Code, it’s a genuine attempt by a Hollywood film to tackle adult content like adultery, premarital sex, promiscuity and prostitution. (It does what it could get away with at the time). As discussed, Taylor hated the script and only took this role begrudgingly (it was her final contractual obligation with MGM, liberating her to make Cleopatra with 20th Century Fox), but you’d never guess from the raw emotion, glamour and sensuality of her performance. Butterfield 8 captures Elizabeth Taylor at her most “Elizabeth Taylor”. She deserved that Oscar, damn it! It also gloriously captures the fashions and décor of 1960: pink marble bathrooms. Powder blue telephones. Swanky cocktail lounges with red flocked wallpaper, gilt-framed mirrors and chandeliers. Bouffant hairstyles. Cocktail dresses with plunging necklines. Full-length mink coats. (Boy, does that mink coat cause a lot of trouble!). Squint your eyes, and Laurence Harvey and Dina Merrill anticipate Don and Betty Draper of Mad Men. There’s no April film club (I’ll be attending the Viva Las Vegas Rockabilly Weekender) but see you again in May. Now go brush your teeth with scotch and scrawl a message on a mirror with pink frosted lipstick!