#it's fine it's FINE

[holistichiatus]

i would flunk his class so hard

[yes-asil]

When you want to write dialogue for a fancomic, but their voices in your head are in German and purely translating to English sounds wrong

-> Specific Artist Problem Number 57

[sssammich]

fic: come what may

a/n: this is a continuation of THIS post which was inspired by the fanart. please give that fanart some love if you haven't, it was so very compelling to me and that's why we're here.

anyway read the first part and then come back to this lol

---

Lena retreated to the single stall washroom after graciously thanking everyone around her for their applause and cheering. In the quiet of the small space, she was able to think about the last five minutes of her life. 

It had been a week since she had spoken last with the caped hero, the word ‘villain’ rang in Lena’s ears still to this day. 

It had stung her, lanced through her more like. But in this world, she had no choice but to keep moving forward if only to survive. She knew that reintegrating Lex back into her life was a risk, but what was the alternative? To let back in the one person she’d trusted with so much of herself only to be the same one who broke Lena irreparably? It figured that they would be one in the same. Supergirl had a habit of being duplicitous, after all. 

Despite all of these thoughts, the dance had been more than she anticipated. For a brief moment in time, her world narrowed to the size of the dance floor when she and her former best friend twirled and glided across the space, held close to one another, swaying to the beat of the song.

Until Supergirl called out to her, the tenor of her voice bringing up a world long gone, the time together but a distant memory. Only to then ask her, “what’s your plan here, Lena?” 

The illusion broke through and shattered all around them, and her eyes darkened, her heart hardened. 

“You will never trust me,” she announced finally when she looked at Kara’s beautiful face, her equally beautiful blue eyes. Now, an enemy. “I can see it in your eyes.” 

She pulled away and turned, not sure she could look at that face again, anymore. Still, she would admit that it was enough consolation to see Supergirl on edge, to put her on her red-booted back foot.

She recalled turning her head slightly and caught enough of Supergirl's departure from the middle of the dance floor and into the evening sky. It gave her some satisfaction, but not nearly enough to placate the ache in her chest. 

Lena stared at her reflection; her makeup remained impeccably applied, impeccably in place despite the exertion of their dancing. The heat of Kara’s hands lingered all over her body, the warmth of those hands pressed into her, holding her in the illusion of safety as the song notes progressed. Her former best friend was clumsy in her movements, at least at first. It would have delighted Lena plenty to see Supergirl stumble her way through her movements. Yet, she held her own and led the two of them throughout the dance floor in an acceptable tango. On any other day, any other moment, she would have been charmed by it, let herself be led around so long as they stayed in each other's arms.

But those moments were no longer accessible to them. 

She returned to her guests and maneuvered through the compliments and conversations, but every now and again, she glanced up into the open sky. Just in case.

—

In the end, Lex was defeated and rid of once and for all. The details of it were fuzzy to her now, but none of it mattered. Simply that he was gone from her life for good, that he would no longer be a terror to anyone and everyone, to those she loved. 

Once again, however, she was left to pick up what remained of his ruinous rampage, if only to be surrounded by something beyond her isolation. 

It was just a few scant weeks ago that she’d reached a truce with Kara and her Superfriends (nevermind that she’d once thought of them as her own friends, as well). Now here she stood weeks later: alone. 

Lena had run out of options or excuses and finally sought out help from Kara without hope or expectation for true reconciliation or forgiveness, from either of them. They’d drawn their lines from one another so long ago, she’d considered them carved in stone. 

Now she stood on her empty balcony overlooking the city just after the sun had set and the sky was now engulfed in dark blue. 

Without a brother, a mother, a father. An orphan, twice over. It seemed that she was destined to live in solitude. They say no man was an island, yet perhaps Luthors were. 

She gazed at the last remnants of the setting sun across the horizon, not giving away that she heard the sound of a cape billowing at the far end of the balcony. She made no move to say or do anything, simply took a sip of the amber liquid in her glass. If Supergirl had anything to say, then Lena was not going to stop her. 

“How are you?” Kara finally said, after minutes trickled past them. 

She scoffed, unable to help herself. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as Kara hovered outside of the balcony. She simply took another sip of her drink. 

Kara, never one to leave well enough alone, moved so that her feet touched the ground and she stood somewhere behind her. Lena closed her eyes and took a swig of all of her remaining drink. 

“You’re trespassing.” 

“I know.” 

“I can have you arrested.” 

“That’s fine.” 

“What do you want from me?” 

“A dance.” 

Lena quickly turned around, Kara standing only a few feet away, her arm outstretched. She glanced up and met blue eyes, an ocean of patience. 

Resigned, Lena unfurled the fist by her side and placed it in the offered hand. She took a step forward until their bodies were almost flush with one another, Kara’s other hand placed on the small of her back. An easy fit between them. A thought that Lena shoved into a box for rumination and reflection later on. 

“There’s no music,” she commented needlessly even as she put her free hand on Kara’s shoulder, her nerves manifesting in lightly scratching the fabric of the supersuit under her fingertips. 

“There’s always music.” Just then, Kara pulled her phone from a hidden compartment behind her and pressed the screen until soft music started playing. It was the final duet in Moulin Rouge between the two leads, where she and Kara shed a tear or two when they watched it in the past—a distant lifetime ago. They were now extraordinarily different people from those versions of themselves. 

“This musical was a tragedy.” 

The superhero shrugged, her eyes focused past Lena’s head. “I know.” 

“Are you trying to tell me something?” 

Kara eventually returned her attention until their eyes met and Lena waited. She watched as Kara took a deep breath and offered Lena a cautious smile, resignation plastered on her own face. “I’m trying to tell you a lot of somethings.”

She studied Kara’s face, wanted to glean any kind of information from her features alone, but Kara betrayed nothing. “Start with one.” 

“I’ve been practicing.” When she furrowed her brows in confusion, Kara clarified by twirling Lena out of her embrace only to pull her back into her orbit once again. This time without bumbling through any of the movements nor without a stutter in her steps.  

The move surprised Lena enough to take her breath away, her senses suddenly alight as she considered what any of it meant. When? How? Why?

“Tell me another,” she whispered, her hands grasping tighter onto Kara just as the song started to swell. 

“I want to start over.” 

Lena stopped in her tracks so Kara did, too. Distantly, Lena observed that neither released their holds of one another.

“Why? We’ll only hurt each other.” 

“Maybe. Probably,” Kara supplied before tugging Lena back closer to her and swayed side to side to encourage Lena to do the same. “But life without you in it is infinitely worse, I think. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll take my chances.” 

Lena’s heart felt like it was getting catapulted across time and space. And maybe it was actually getting catapulted along with every sway she took with Kara. Still, she couldn’t help but push. “Even with a villain?” 

Kara grimaced slightly before flashing an apologetic smile. “Sure, Lena. Even with a villain.” 

“I was one, you know,” she offered, watching for Kara’s response. She was complicit, had gotten her own hands dirty. She owned up to that. 

“I know.” But Kara simply shrugged and brought them closer. “Believe it or not, I’ve been one, too. You’re not exactly very special in that department, Lena.” 

A small laugh that bubbled out of her caught her off guard, and Kara smiled at her before spinning her away and back together again until Lena hid her face against the crook of Kara’s neck until the song finally ended. 

They parted from each other, Kara taking a step back until she was a few feet away, her hands clasped in front of her. 

“Thanks for the dance,” Kara said. 

“You’ve gotten better.” 

“I appreciate that. It means the practice has been paying off.” As if nodding to herself, Kara gave her a smile and began to turn so as to take off into the night sky, but Lena stopped her. 

“Tell me one more,” she urged, realizing she didn’t want their interaction to end quite yet. 

Kara then looked over her shoulder. “Can I come back tomorrow?” 

“If you’d like.” 

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll hold you to it.” 

Kara’s body twisted so she was looking at Lena more fully. “Goodnight, Lena.” 

“Goodnight, Kara.” 

Lena watched as she took off into the sky, disappearing into the night. She’d stayed out there for a little while longer, the heat of her drink coursing through her veins while the moment between them warmed her against the cool breeze that passed through. 

Nothing had yet been fixed, and there was a long road ahead of them. But something in her caged heart had loosened, allowing her to breathe again. That was a start.

[starlightswordfight]

DAY 24 - ANCIENT

[r2y9s]

[sherlock holmes]

Home. (watson version)

holmes version

[sparklemaia]

do you ever draw what you’re gonna look like after top surgery when you’re having a bad dysphoria day to help you cope and it’s happened so often that now you’re running out of canvass or are you normal

[bigeloo]

More Human Miku

[lexosaurus]

me, composing: this song is going to be harmonic minor! i've always wanted to do one of those my fingers: okay, harmonic major? me: no my fingers: understood! double harmonic minor, then. me: nO

[varpusvaras]

Sometimes, during the darkest hours, Obi-Wan had the habit of saying that he was 'made for sadness'.

Quinlan was starting to think that he was made for it, too.

It was now that he understood more clearly than ever why the Order taught them to forego attachments. He understood it as he stared at the darkness ahead of him and found himself preparing to jump into it, if the word reached him.

He had thought he had gotten away from it as he had refused to visit the Guard medbay, to look at the glow of bacta against a body that by all accounts was out of reach of any healing in the Galaxy. But then again, he was still here, wasn't he? On Coruscant, roaming the lower levels, searching for something to do, telling himself that someone needed to do the dirty work, even though there were so many places that needed him more at the moment.

He wasn't sure how long it had been at this point, either. If soon someone would come and fetch him and tell him that he had been running from his obligations for long enough and that it was not how a Jedi should act, to tether himself to one person like this. It must've been days, if not longer than that. The darkness in his eyes had grown larger, at least, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the lack of sunlight this far down, or if it was because of something else entirely.

Someone did come down to look for him, but not a Jedi. Quinlan watched as the red of the armor pierced the darkness in front of him as the man made his way towards him.

"Get up", he said. Quinlan tilted his head.

"Isn't it a little dangerous for a clone to be alone this far down?" He asked.

"I'm with you", the man said. "And I said get up. I need you in the base, not rotting down here."

Quinlan laughed. Or at least he thought that he did.

"And what could you possibly need me for, Commander?" He asked.

He could feel his glare through the helmet.

"I need you to be on his kriffing bedside, after he almost died", he hissed, and then grabbed Quinlan's arm and yanked, hard. "Get up."

Quinlan blinked. The darkness took a step back, but didn't leave.

He could live with it.

He got on his feet and followed the Commander up.

---

The medbay was quiet, for once. It was almost eery, and felt more like he was stepping into a morgue.

Thorn still looked more dead than alive. His skin still had a sick pallor to it, and his hair looked more fried at the ends than just dyed lighter.

But he was breathing. Dead people didn't tend to breathe, so Quinlan had to believe it.

Dead people didn't open their dark eyes and look up at him, either, so he really had to believe it.

Thorn looked at him, a slightly far away look in his eyes for a moment, before he seemed to focus more on him. Then he smiled, just a little, like the expression was taking a lot out of him.

"Hey", he said. His voice was raspy, but the familiar warm tone was still there, just subdued for now. "Looking alive."

Quinlan tried to crack a smile. He tried to joke back. Yeah, you too. That would've been the perfect answer. It would've gotten the laugh out of both of them and made the medbay not so quiet anymore, and-

-he cried.

He lowered his head and cried, first silently and then out loud. There was a hand on his arm, fingers weakly wrapping around his wrist, and Quinlan all but collapsed on top of the bed, his forehead pressing against Thorn's chest. It kept rising at the rythm of his breathing. There was a beating heart under the skin and muscle and bones, still going on and on and on.

His tears did end pretty quickly. Maybe because all the time he had spent dredging along, the darkness closing in on him, finally caught up on him.

"C'mere." There was another hand on the back of his neck, trying to tug him closer, and Quinland definitely didn't have to be asked twice to crawl in the bed as well. He stayed there for a while, his face pressed against Thorn's shoulder, as he waited for his face to dry.

Finally, he got a strong enough grip of himself to lift his head.

Thorn was still looking at him, his eyes showing mostly exhaustion, but he kept them open neverthless. Quinlan felt rather stupid then. What had he been on about, thinking about belonging to sadness and darkness and all that, when all the while Thorn hadn't even been dead yet?

"I'm pathetic", he mumbled, more to himself. Thorn raised his brows a bit, and then smiled at bit more.

"Good for you", he said. "I happen to have a soft spot for men like you. Who look like they haven't slept in a week."

Quinlan looked at him, and he laughed. It was an actual laugh, this time, even if it was still breathless and coarse from how long he had not talked to anyone, but it didn't matter. Thorn was there, not caring a single bit about how pitiful Quinlan was, which was still, arguably, the funniest thing in the entire Galaxy.

He only stopped when Thorn shivered, it making his whole body rattle.

"Sorry", Thorn murmured. "It's just the acclimation to being out of bacta after so long. I'm fine."

"You want another blanket?" Quinlan asked.

"I already have three."

"You could use another three." Quinlan wasn't a healer, but he had been in bacta himself a few times by now. Healing from even minor injuries while being forced under gave everyone shivers and made it more difficult to keep warm, even only after a few hours of submergion. Thorn had been in for...Quinlan still wasn't sure exactly how long, but definitely longer than that.

"Mm-mmh", Thorn sighed, and closed his eyes. He moved a little closer, and tucked his head down, his nose pressing on Quinlan's throat. "I'm comfortable right now, though."

Quinlan understood the message. Don't you dare to move.

"Fine, fine", he said, and wrapped his arms around Thorn and his three blankets instead. Thorn made a rather content sounding soft noise, and then fell silent. Quinlan felt around with the Force carefully. Asleep, already.

He did need the sleep, and so did Quinlan, if he was being pefectly honest. He also most likely needed a shower and something to eat, but those could probably wait for a little longer.

There were careful, slow steps then coming towards them, and Quinlan turned around just enough to look at their source.

Fox was standing at the end of the bed, and his eyes met Quinlan's. He looked exhausted as well, with dark circles under his eyes showing clearly even on the tanned skin. He had probably been scrubbing his armor after pushing Quinlan into the medbay, as most of the grime was gone now.

Quinlan shot him a grin.

"All good here, Commander", he whispered. "Go to bed."

Fox rolled his eyes, though the usual hint of annoyance that the expression normally carried was missing this time. He stepped around the bed and combed his fingers through Thorn's hair once, and then, after a moment of hesitation, he patted Quinlan on the arm.

"You better stay there until he says otherwise", he said lowly, giving Quinlan a pointed look.

Quinlan couldn't help but let out another laugh under his breath.

"Don't worry", he said. "Never been better anywhere else than right here."

[cloudster-clown]

Wait missa being a cat is cannon? Like actually?

[marmolita]

oh shit tomorrow is October 1, that means I have to start posting all my kinktober stuff, ajfgshldfjkghalfjkaghf

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Currently approaching my worst-ever hits-to-comments ratio on AO3 (1000 hits to 1 comment), wish me luck!!!!!

[theangrypomeranian]

the au is gonna be longer 🤦‍♀️ not by that much but a little

god damn it lmao

[2btheanswertothequestion]

Steve falls first but Eddie falls harder angst

(possibly with a happy ending)

Steve is crushing on Eddie. It was scary at first, because feelings for another guy, but he's gotten used to it and now that nice, bubbly, new crush feeling overpowers the fear. It also feels good because he's, like, 99% sure Eddie feels the same way. He always finds reasons to hang out with Steve, even in group settings, and he flirts a lot – he obviously likes Steve. And now that Steve has come to terms with his newfound sexuality he's ready to make the move.

Except.

Before he can, he gets in a situation where Eddie's attention is grabbed by someone else, and Steve finds himself with front-row tickets to Eddie flirting like that with someone else. Doing more with someone else. Maybe Eddie kisses someone during a CC gig (idea stolen from @bleedingoptimism's little fic – if you haven't read it yet I think you should, because it's an all pov inclusive, and Steve gets to be friends with the CC boys, and all the parts are bite-sized so you can breeze through it).

Or, if Eddie is gay and can't openly kiss another dude, maybe they're at a club and Steve notices them in a dark corner after they've flirted in front of him. Or he goes to Eddie’s home and finds them the morning after (after they spent the night flirting in front of him).

And he's fucking heartbroken. He was so sure Eddie felt the same. 100% sure, actually, he just said 99% to be modest. But, um. Seems he was wrong. He is wrong a lot.

He should move on.

He does that by putting distance between them. Nothing blatant. Just starts being too busy to hang out one on one, and having Robin be a buffer and a distraction that's permanently glued to his side when they're in a group.

But Eddie of course notices that his favorite guy is being weird around him. Why, though! Steve won't tell him, and neither will Robin (she's been downright icy lately). Wayne is likewise stumped (and as upset as Eddie, because he likes having Steve around). The kids have less of an idea why, because they didn't even realize something was going on. Nancy, Jonathan, and CC boys have noticed, but Steve doesn't talk to them.

It ends up being Argyle (observant king!) who connects the dots for Eddie. And oh! Oooooh! Steve likes him? Steve likes him? That's... That's amazing! Because now that he thinks about it, Eddie likes him too. How couldn't he!

Eddie rushes over to Steve. He's a bag of nerves, since they haven't really been together for some weeks and Steve looks great, but Eddie's got this. They talk it out, which mostly consists of Eddie explaining he finally realized why Steve has pulled away and apologizing for not getting it sooner. An embarrassed-to-have-been-caught Steve says it's fine, and also apologizes for the vanishing act. It's just, he needed it. He needed to get over it.

Eddie forgives him. Now they're on the same page and can be together. Steve frowns a little and says maybe they should keep being friends. This baffles Eddie. Steve likes him and he likes Steve; why not be together? Sure, they'll have to sneak around. Yes, it'll be dangerous. Of course, they-

Steve interrupts him. He folds his arms, but ends up hugging himself. Hunches his shoulders and tucks his chin, as if to hide.

"That's not it," Steve says quietly. "I got over it."

It's like a bucket of ice water on Eddie's head.

What does he mean? 'Over it'? How can he be over it? He likes Eddie.

So Steve explains that he was certain they had something, but seeing Eddie with someone else numbed the feelings a little? And now that he's gotten a few weeks to lick his wounds and deal with it he managed to get rid of them. He's over it.

This upsets Eddie. How the fuck can he just be over it. Eddie just figured this out and now Steve... that's not fair. Why didn't Steve talk to him about it?

Steve snaps back at him, angrily asking forgiveness for letting go of what appeared to be an ill-advised crush. Like, excuse him for trying to protect himself.

Eddie leaves, dejected.

Later, he's bemoaning the situation to Robin, who's finally stopped being cold to him. A good thing, because he likes talking to her and she's got that precious Steve-insight Eddie craves. He asks her if Steve was telling the truth. Because Eddie can't believe it. After all, Steve was hung up on Nancy for ages – how could he get over this so fast?

Robin tilts her head, eyeing him carefully.

"Yeah, but Eddie," she says. "You're not Nancy."

And, shit. He's not. He was never with Steve. They didn't move from infatuation to love. Hell, Steve and Nancy's romantic relationship, shortlived as it was, lasted longer than the time Steve and Eddie have been friends. 'Steve and Eddie' is a tiny blip compared to 'Steve and Nancy'. How the fuck could Eddie compare them?

The boys end up awkward for a while before eventually returning to being friends. They're cool again. Mostly. Because, uuuuuggggghhh, Eddie can't let go of things the way Steve obviously can. He gives himself 100% to his feelings. He buries himself in them. And soon enough he's in love. He's yearning. Nothing will happen, though.

Because he's not Nancy.

And Steve is over it.

Those who like the taste of pain can stop reading now.

Those who, like me, won't accept angst unless it ends happily:

They do get together in the end. Having been told that the feelings are reciprocated after all, and being shown it when Eddie mopes around and stares longingly at him from afar, like a sad pine, kinda reignites Steve's feelings. Or maybe just awakens them from their slumber because he wasn't quite so over it after all.

Because Eddie isn't Nancy. But he also isn't Heidi-Linda-Brenda, a pretty face to smile at for a dinner or two, trying it out before going 'nope, next'.

They're closer than that. They mean more to each other than that. And they're willing to put the effort into it.

So they do.

(Eddie is so fucking possessive at the start. His first real relationship that he almost missed out on? He's never letting go of Steve ever again.)

(Steve, who gives as good as he gets, loves it.)

[teddybeartoji]

ok sometimes i really do doubt my own writing skills bc what the actual fuck am i even doing😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭