#she will NOT share the fanfic

[brooklynislandgirl]

Batman vs Superman?

Consider It A Challenge || Accepting

As far as questions go, this is one of those universal ones endlessly debated in comic shops, after movie premieres, and the entire basis of ruthless internet assassinations. The problem is that she doesn't really understand why. She knows what it is like being a billionaire with moral quandaries. There is a reason why she chose to become a Gardener. And perhaps seeing Batman's actions only highlight the doubts that come to stalk her in the darkest of hours, whether she is truly doing the right thing and how, every time she must prune a branch or pull up a weed, she makes mockery of her oath to do no harm. She is not an angel reaching for an ascension that might never come, but she doesn't think she is a devil, either. Father Vinnie would tell her if she were straying from her path, wouldn't he? Like, it's right there in his job description, being a shepherd of the Church, speaking with the authority of the Divine. As for Superman? Well, she's always made that comparison to Andy. The eternal Boy Scout, the protector and rescuer, bigger and better and stronger and faster than anyone else. But he's also not human. Can never be. There are times in those coloured pages that sometimes talk about what happens when he gets fed up. When through treachery or dismay, he turns. Then what becomes of those who look to him for mercy and protection? Maybe Lex Luthor isn't so crazy after all, a necessary evil that she can too easily also empathise with. She hates the one Justice League movie or whatever because the entire premise was built on the back on an idiot plot. Snyder should be ashamed of himself making two heroes fight to the death because they couldn't have a reasonable five minute conversation, and none of their friends seemed to be in on it either. Their agencies as people and as heroes was robbed of them. Plus Jessie Eisenberg? Now THAT is a joke. But maybe she's looking at it the wrong way. Maybe it has nothing to do with a battle of supremacy between DC's flagship heroes. Maybe the question is just which one she likes best. And the answer is simply...neither. Oh she loves Martian Man Hunter. And Constantine. She loves Barry Allen and Hal Jordan. There's Doctor Mid-Nite and Rorschach, Raven and Beast Boy, Dr Manhattan. Solomon Grundy and Gorilla Grodd. Jonah Hex and the Phantom Stranger. There's the Endless, whom she loves one and all. But really? Deep down in her heart of hearts, there's only two superheroes that she can truly love, support, and may have written fanfiction about. "Neiddah. My heart is torn between my two bes' ali'i. King of Atlantis- Aquaman aka Art'ur Curry... an' my truest love in comics, King Shark. Our god-prince, Nanaue."

[spacedace]

Okay but the Justice League finds out their new baby hero teammate Phantom is the Ghost King by virtue of the Fright Night showing up while they're in the middle of a meeting, looking terrifying and such and scaring the shit out of everyone- even more so when Constantine starts freaking out over the fact that the sworn night of the King of the Infinite Realms is in the Watchtower what the fuck that's apocalyptically bad Pariah Dark is supposed to be locked the fuck up forever - but instead of trying to smite them all or yeet them into the nightmare dimension he just pulls out a space themed packed lunch??? And gives it to Phantom??

And the mildly eldritch giant murder ghost is talking about how "The Queen Mother commanded me to ensure you ate my Lord, she says you missed your morning meal."

And Phantom is just grumbling about over protective sisters and "there's a cafeteria i would have been fine" what the fuck is happening right now?

What do you mean "oops you forgot" Phantom I thought the ghost thing was just a theme!

[clovariia]

we can FINALLY post our pieces for the @tohgrimoire zine!!! i wrote a fic about luz and her family visiting her father's grave. it's a tragic but healing time for all of them.

thank you so much to @astrolavas for drawing the devastating spot art and the zine's writing mod @taruchinator for helping with beta reading!!! all the zine contributors and mods were so sweet and encouraging. i'm so grateful that i got to be a part of this project! thank you to everyone for all the support!!!!!! 🦉💕

🔗 https://archiveofourown.org/works/58919038

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Sharing is Caring!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ughgoaway]

casual

It's hard being casual                                                                                                                               When my favourite bra lives in your dresser

a fic inspired by Chappell Roan's casual; snippet below the cut. 18+, 1.5k.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・.・.

Hot bodies press against you as you weave through the house, spilt beer making your skin sticky as more and more people carelessly dance with drinks sloshing in their hands. A playlist you don't recognise fills the air, and whilst Matty might be hosting, you can tell the playlist is completely out of his control. The vaguely rhythmic pumping drum and bass overwhelming your senses isn't something you can see him listening to, but maybe you just don't know him as well as you hoped.

Your eyes dart around the hoard of people looking for him and then back to your phone, desperate to see those three dots pop up and for him to finally respond. He never does, though, and when you scroll back, you see message after message go unanswered, unless they're about hooking up, of course. Those always get a response within minutes, which should be flattering, but seeing it laid out in front of you instead leaves a hollowed ache in your chest.

You know what you were signing up for the very first time his crisp white sheets got wrapped up between your thighs, sleeping with Matty Healy was a path well worn by girls before you, and not one of them had got a meaningful relationship out of it. More people have seen every inch of his skin than have ever seen his true personality, or maybe the faux rockstar cool guy act is who he really is, but you're not so convinced.

But that facade was all you needed. It's exactly why you started this in the first place. Misplaced anger towards your ex suddenly became you ripping a condom open with your teeth and sinking down on the dick of a man you'd spoken to maybe 5 times.

But that next morning, after he raised his eyebrows and asked if he wanted to go again, you ignored that screaming head in your voice to stay away and instead slid into his lap and put your lips on his.

Here you are now 4 months later, and your relationship is… something.  Matty would say it's completely casual. it's fun, low-commitment sex and nothing more. And when he says that, you nod and agree, immediately going for his belt to try and get those words out of your mind. And usually, within 30 seconds, with his hand in your hair and his dick in your mouth, it's pretty easy to forget. But it's times like this you're rudely reminded. When he invites you to a party knowing you don't know anyone and leaves you stranded, the truth comes crashing back into your head, impossible to ignore.

Some faces that glide past you feel familiar, but when a body crashes into yours and you look up at their face, it's the first one you really recognise. 

“George! Thank god, where’s Matty? he won’t answer my text” You try to sound blasé when you ask, acting how you think you should, running the gone girl “cool girl” monologue in your head. When George scrunches his face in confusion, you think he's seen right through your act, but what comes out of his mouth is worse than any transparent ploy he could've seen through.

“Sorry, do I know you?” George asked, nervously running his hand over his neck and looking down at you with squinted eyes. Suddenly, it feels like you've been shot in the chest, blood covering your clothes and hands. If you looked down right now, you swear they'd be stained red. But that's not very chill girl of you, so you giggle nervously and try and hide the crimson that covers you.

“Oh, sorry. I’m y/n. Has Matty ever mentioned me?” You giggle awkwardly as you speak, silently crushing the plastic cup of cheap beer that was forced into your hands as soon as you passed the threshold. 

Finally, after time dragged on for about 10 seconds longer than you'd like, a flicker of realisation fills George's eyes, and you expect an explanation. Maybe he's pissed, or high, or just not that good with faces. You convince yourself that there are a thousand reasons why Matty’s closest friend wouldn't know your face, but none of them match what falls from his lips.

“Oh yeahhhh. You're the girl Matty’s messing around with, right? The girl he fucked on the sofa at a party one time?” he drunkenly giggles, hiccupping halfway through his sentence.

Bang. The sound of a second gunshot fills your ears, and you swear you can feel the blood pouring again. He doesn't know it, he doesn't even know your name, but George's words felt like the eulogy at your funeral, as if he had just killed you and now he was sending you away. “The girl Matty is messing around with” not “Matty’s girlfriend”, or “Matty’s partner”, not even “Matty’s friend”, just the latest girl in his never-ending rotation.

Still, you smile even if you do feel yourself dying as you stand on the liquor-sodden carpet. “Yup. That's me… I guess. any idea where he is?” Even if you do speak through gritted teeth, George seems oblivious, quite easily directing you to Matty without a second thought.

“Uh last time I saw him was on the sofa in the front room, check there, maybe?” he shrugs, casting his eyes over your shoulder and smiling at someone. Well, it's nice to know he is capable of smiling, maybe he only does it with people who he actually knows, not people who he only kind of recognises for fucking his best friend.

“Yeah thanks, bye Geor-” Before you can even say a proper goodbye, he weaves through the crowd and shouts someone's name before tackling them in a hug. You wonder how he’d treat you if you were really Matty’s girlfriend. Would he cast you a smile and wrap you in a hug? Maybe you could have double dates with him as his girlfriend, then you'd know all Matty’s friends, the funny stories about him from childhood. 

You know the most intimate parts of Matty's body, the places that only your fingers brush, that you press kisses to. You know the tattoos that hide from everyone else. You've traced them with your tongue. But you don't know him. His favourite colour or movie, you don't know how his brain ticks, what his first kiss was, his first love, or if he's ever been in love.

He doesn't know anything about you either, but you think that's a blessing in disguise. If he asked if you'd ever been in love, you don't think you could lie. he'd see the lie in your eyes, swirling and fighting to leave your mouth in a way that sounded anyway believable. hed know that you are in love, right now. with him. No matter how thick you lay on the denial, there's only so much you can do to hide from your own thoughts.

So when you slip into the living room and see another girl on his lap with his hand around her waist, the third bullet of the night hits you, and this time you can't bring yourself to smile awkwardly and brush it off.

The blood won't stop. Each time his fingers stroke over her skin like they do on yours, you feel like you're dying. That any breath could be your last. The thump of the bass in your ears is replaced by your thumping heart, each beat permeating your skull. 

Thump. His hand pushes up her shirt, and his fingertips dance on her bare stomach. Thump. He throws his head back, laughing at something she says. Thump. He grips her hip and winks at her, pulling her deeper into his lap. Thump. She turns to face him. Thump. Her hand grips his cheek. Thump. He's kissing her. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart won't stop racing, growing faster with each second. You watch his hand move from her waist to her neck, pressing his fingers into her skin the same way he does to you. Subconsciously, your hand goes up to your neck, brushing over the very places where you're sure those same fingertips left bruises two nights before. Slowly, her hand slides up to his hair, gripping his curls the way you know he loves. You watch his hips jump at the feeling. It makes you sick to your stomach, that once empty space fulling with dread and jealousy over a man who barely spared a thought for you.

Someone bumps your shoulder and suddenly the world comes back into colour, and you can hear the familiar beat of the shitty music, the shouting of some teenage boys as a random girl takes her top off, and the chatter of the people around you. You can breathe again. But he's still there, her tongue in his mouth and his hand cupping her cheek.

Fuck. you need a cigarette.

[fantasy-cursedkrystal]

jason and Tim write batman fanfiction or batman ship fanfiction (maybe duke also writes fanfics of batman or he reads them)

Dick and steph read batman fanfiction damian and cass would just be confused

bruce finds out and is traumatized for life

[duskandcobalt]

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Seven

Chapter Summary: Elain heads back to Velaris for Christmas after rejecting Graysen's marriage proposal.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: mentions of dv (please see authors note below), smattering of smut (18+ pls)

Missed the first six chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: *peaks out from the hole I've been hiding in* heyyyy  😅

Once again, I must begin by saying thank you for all your lovely comments and messages about this fic and all the others. I cannot appreicate how much it means to me. A special thank you to everyone who's checked in with me over the past few months and given me kindess, support, and patience. There are some lovely people on this app and I am so honoured that you choose to read and engage with my fic.

Please note that there is a very brief mention of domestic violence in this chapter within the context of a conversation. If that's something you'd rather skip reading, please feel free to do what's best for you.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

The fire was dwindling down, empty cups were scattered on every available surface, Christmas music played over the speakers, and wrapping paper was strewn on the floor of Azriel’s living room. 

It’d been a Christmas like all the others - drinking and eating and lots of gifts exchanged, though Nyx had made out the best of  anyone, spoiled rotten by all of his aunties and uncles. They’d played a few games, exchanged a bit of gossip about mutual acquaintances, and throughout all the festivities, Azriel had kept a careful eye on Elain. 

He watched her now, his brows pulling together above the rim of the whisky glass he’d raised up to his lips. She was sitting quietly in her usual spot on his couch, lazily tracing circles around the rim of her nearly empty wine glass. 

There was something different about her tonight that he couldn't quite place but he was determined to figure out. While everyone else had been enjoying themselves, he could sense a peculiar cloud of something sad that seemed to follow Elain around no matter how hard she tried to smile and laugh and pretend like everything was okay when it was clear - to him, at least - that things were far from fine.

His first sign that something was wrong was when Elain had walked into his house earlier, avoiding eye contact and barely even bothering with a proper hug as she muttered a ‘Merry Christmas’ and a ‘thank you for hosting’ all while hiding behind a pile of gifts stacked tall in her arms. Even when she'd come back home with Graysen in tow she hadn't held back from him like that and her iciness had caught him completely off guard. 

He’d been so anxious to see her again after all this time, that he hadn’t fully considered the reality of the situation. Azriel knew that the last time they’d seen each other had been tense but it hadn't ended badly by any means. And sure, he hadn't spoken to her properly in well over half a year but she replied to his sparse texts and he still woke up to a voice note from her on his birthday so he’d figured that that had to count for something. That maybe that was to be their new normal. He’d resigned himself to taking what he could get - that’s what he’d told her after all on Nesta’s porch that night. He wanted her in his life in whatever way he could have her. 

The second thing to clue him in that something was wrong was that right after she’d placed the presents under the Christmas tree, Elain had made a beeline to the kitchen and poured herself a shot of whatever bottle of alcohol her eyes had landed on first.

It wasn't that he wasn't used to seeing her drink, although she’d certainly never been a drinker in the way the rest of their friend group indulged, but he’d never once seen her drink like this - knocking back shot after shot when she thought no one was watching. It was rare for her to even pour a drink without asking if she could. Almost a decade of knowing her and Elain always asked permission no matter how many times he insisted that she help herself to whatever she wanted. 

Azriel had counted at least seven trips to the kitchen tonight - all for a drink, none for food. Even the speciality cheese she adored and that he’d purchased just for her after she confirmed her attendance, sat untouched. But for having downed a minimum of seven drinks, she didn’t really appear to be all that drunk. He had to give her credit because she held her alcohol surprisingly well - the only real give away that she was drunk was a slight stumble as she stood up from the sofa the last time she went to the kitchen and a droop to her eyelids that could be attributed to exhaustion.

Elain had sat quietly most of the night, speaking only when spoken to and channelling most of her attention on Nyx when he’d been awake but now that her nephew was fast asleep on the sofa next to her, Shadow curled up at his feet, she had no real distraction and Azriel watched curiously as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, opening her mouth a dozen times as if to speak only to seemingly decide against it and retreat back into herself. 

He’d planned on once again cornering her to try and figure out what the hell was going on and to see if there was absolutely anything he could do to ease whatever clearly ailed her. He’d intended to follow her into the kitchen the next time she went to drown her sorrows but he never got the chance because after a prolonged moment of silence amongst the group - she finally spoke. 

Azriel all but froze as Elain cleared her throat and wrung her hands together in her lap, tugging at the sleeves of the long sleeved black top she was wearing. Her empty glass of wine had been carefully placed on the coffee table in front of her.

“Graysen proposed,” she hiccupped, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears as she delivered her news without even a second of preamble. 

The two words were softly spoken and she’d said them in one breath with no break in between but Azriel heard her loud and clear.

His stomach dropped, the three or four drinks he’d consumed turned sour in his stomach and did very little to ease the pain of his heart slamming against his chest as Nesta and Feyre began firing off question after question - all of which were ignored by Elain and none of which he could actually hear over the incessant buzzing in his ears. 

He prayed that he’d heard her wrong. Prayed that there was no way she’d actually said what he thought she’d said. It wasn’t until he saw Feyre reach for Elain’s left hand that Azriel forced himself to focus, his eyes zeroing in on her fingers - at the vacant space where one would expect to find a ring after an announcement such as the one Elain had just made. 

“I said no,” she whispered, catching Feyre’s confused expression as her sister’s index finger slid over Elain’s bare skin. 

No. 

She’d said no. She’d said no. She’d said no. 

Azriel repeated the words to himself over and over again as it was his own personal mantra, drilling it into his head as he finally allowed himself to breathe. He couldn’t look at her face, couldn’t bear to find out what expression he’d find there. All he could do was stare at her hand - at that perfect, unadorned finger - no glimmering diamond to be found. 

“A few months ago,” he heard her tell the girls. 

“Why’d you say no?” Nesta asked, her voice soft although Azriel could hear the smallest inkling of relief in it that mirrored his own feelings. He wondered if maybe Nesta had seen through Graysen’s facade as well and had quietly hoped that her cousin would come to her senses and leave him. 

Azriel tore his attention away from Elain’s fingers and up to her face only to watch as her eyes lifted to meet his for a fleeting moment before she quickly looked away from him and back to Nesta. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “We hadn’t even talked about it and I was caught so off guard. It just didn’t feel right.” She took a deep, staggering breath, Azriel could see the shimmer of tears beginning to well along her lash line. “I don’t think I ever really loved him…. I never really like them all that much.”

She said the last part to herself, a drunken admission whispered to the floor. It was a confession that she’d spent her entire adult life with men that she didn’t even truly care for. Azriel couldn’t bring himself to wonder why she did what she did or why she’d finally admitted it. He wouldn’t let himself consider that maybe she found herself staying in meaningless relationship after meaningless relationship for the same reason he found himself avoiding them all together. 

“I think… I think I may need to lay down,” Elain muttered after a moment of tense, awkward silence. It was clear that no one in the room quite knew what to say or do. Feyre and Nesta were staring at her dumbfounded. Cassian and Rhys were exchanging mildly panicked looks as they tried to figure out what to do in this situation. “I feel a little dizzy all of a sudden.”

“Come upstairs,” Azriel was on his feet before he could even think to stop himself, speaking without even consciously meaning to as he bypassed Feyre and Nesta to get to Elain. He stepped forward, one hand outstretched towards her. 

He didn't miss the look Feyre gave Nesta. A silent enquiry as to whether they should let him take her upstairs - as if the two of them knew what had happened the last time he and Elain had been left alone on Christmas. Nesta just nodded, one subtle dip of her chin that had Feyre watching in stunned silence as Elain placed her hand in Azriel’s. 

Neither of the girls had ever said anything to him about that night other than to acknowledge that Elain had, in fact, flown home the following morning. An emergency at work was the flimsy excuse Nesta had given him the following day when he’d called her and done his best to enquire about Elain’s whereabouts without raising any suspicion. 

Azriel carefully pulled Elain up, keeping her hand in his as his other arm wrapped around her waist to keep her upright as he slowly and carefully led her up his stairs, guiding her to the guest room a couple doors down from his own bedroom. 

He flipped back the duvet and sat her down on the bed. He could feel her eyes on him as she silently watched him lower himself to his knees so he could unzip her boots and slide them off her feet. 

“Lay back,” he tapped gently on her calf, hands hovering around her in case she needed help. 

“Not the first time you’ve said that to me,” Elain quipped, flopping back in a less than graceful manner before turning onto her side to face him. There was the tiniest smirk on her lips, the smallest bit of amusement shining in her sad eyes. He almost found himself smiling at the drunken comment until her expression changed, those pretty lips of hers turning down at the corners. 

“Az.. will you stay with me? After everyone goes?” 

Azriel grimaced, ignoring the pull from the part of his heart that was ready and willing to bend to her every whim. “I can’t, Elain.” 

“Why?” Her eyebrows pulled together to create a small crease on her forehead. He fought the urge to reach out and smooth away that visible line of tension with a gentle pass of his thumb. “You always used to stay with me.” 

“It’s different now,” he exhaled, shoulders dropping as he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair. “You’re not mine, Elain.”

“That’s not true,” Elain frowned, fighting to keep her eyes open. “I’ve always been yours.” She said it with every bit of drunken sincerity in the world, whispered soft and sweet even as she lost the battle to sleep and her eyes began to flutter shut. 

Her words were like a knife to his heart. He knew she never would’ve said it if the amount of alcohol in her bloodstream didn’t outweigh her good senses. He had no idea whether she’d even remember any of this in the morning. 

“Why did you stay with him? If you didn’t love him? If you didn’t like any of the others? Why would you stay with them?” Azriel couldn’t help but ask, going against his better judgement to seek an explanation for the questions that had haunted him for years even if he knew that whatever answer she gave him, it was unlikely to offer him any semblance of peace. 

“It’s easier to pretend if there’s someone else,” Elain’s hands came up to her throat, her fingertips mindlessly searching for something. She frowned when she came up empty, her nails digging into the space between her collarbones instead. The sight unsettled Azriel enough to momentarily distract him from what she’d just said. 

The necklace he’d given her on her birthday a few years ago, the one she’d worn religiously every day since, the one that tethered her to him, was missing from her neck and it was like a punch to his gut. 

“The chain broke,” Elain whispered, having followed his line of sight to where he’d been openly staring at the place the gold pendant had sat against her skin for half a decade. “It’s in my bag, I was hoping you’d be able to fix it.”

Azriel nodded, relieved that she hadn’t actually taken the necklace off herself. He stood there, arms hanging uselessly at his side for a couple more seconds until her eyelids drifted shut once again. He walked towards the door, deciding to let her sleep this off, but he paused before he could leave, turning towards her once more. 

He thought maybe he was a sadist because asking these questions, pushing for these answers, would only serve to expand that ever growing crack in his heart. Still, he couldn't seem to help himself. 

“Lain?” Part of him hoped that she’d already drifted off to sleep, that she wouldn’t answer and he wouldn’t get to ask his question and have to hear her response.. 

“Yeah, Az?” The corner of her eyes crinkled as she looked at him, squinting. 

“What did you mean?” He asked. “When you said it’s easier to pretend?”

She paused for a moment, teeth scraping over her bottom lip as she turned so she was on her back, her eyes focused on the ceiling. 

“When I’m with someone else,” she started, voice so quiet that he had to strain to hear her over the music carrying up the stairs and under the gap in the door. “It’s easier to distract myself from the fact that sometimes I want you so badly, I think it might kill me.” 

The ache in his chest was so sharp and so immediate that he had to grip the handle on the door harder just to feel like he had some sort of control over his body. He had no idea what to do with that information. Had no idea what to say back. He’d waited what felt like a lifetime to hear her say those words to him, he’d just never imagined that it would be so painful. 

He couldn’t speak, could barely even remember his name. He hadn’t realised how long he’d been silent until he noticed that she’d fallen asleep, her head now tilted towards him. 

Azriel set his shoulders and backed out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He took a deep breath, pushing back every bit of emotion that he felt, before slowly making his way back downstairs.

Elain stuck an arm out from under the covers, her fingers blindly reaching to her nightstand for her phone. It wasn’t until she felt the sharp corner of a wooden surface instead of the rounded edge of her own bedside table that she realised that she wasn’t at home in her own bed. She peeked out from under the covers, taking in her surroundings with one blurry eye. 

Light was beginning to filter in through a pair of cream curtains covering a rather large window. The bed she was in was comfy and not completely unfamiliar, the bed linen looked similar to a set that she’d helped Azriel choose back when they’d gone shopping for… 

“Fuck,” Elain groaned, sitting up and dragging her hands over her face. 

She wasn’t at home. She wasn’t in her designated room at her sister’s house. No - she’d been fast asleep in Azriel’s guest bedroom. 

It didn’t take much to figure out just how she’d ended up here. The pounding in her head and the dryness in her mouth were enough to tell her that she’d maybe taken it a little too far with the alcohol last night.

She’d started drinking before they’d even left Feyre’s, just a couple of glasses while getting ready that she told herself were for liquid courage. She’d known the second that they pulled into Azriel’s driveway that she’d need far more to get through seeing him again under a whole new set of circumstances that only she was privy to and so she’d thrown caution to the wind and had been throwing back drinks any chance she got. 

She really hadn’t even been planning on telling anyone about the proposal but after an hour or so of drinking, she’d felt the urge to say it - to let them know what had happened. To let them know she and Graysen were done. Elain couldn’t remember much past the moment she’d drunkenly blurted out the news.. she remembered Feyre and Nesta’s surprised faces and the faraway look on Azriel’s face when she’d dared to glance at him but everything past that moment seemed to be a blur. 

If she really tried to push for details, she could vaguely remember being helped up the stairs because she was too far gone to manage on her own but that was all her hungover brain could string together.

“Lain?” The low register of Azriel’s morning voice rumbled through the door as a knock lightly sounded on the surface. “You up? Can I come in?” 

“Yeah, come in!” She called back, wincing at how sore her voice sounded in her ears.

Elain sat up, quickly running a hand through her tangled hair as she propped up a pillow behind her and let the duvet fall to her waist. It was so much colder in this room than she’d expected and she didn’t fully register why until Azriel walked in. 

“Morning, how you feeling? I brought some -” he’d been halfway through his sentence, sleepy eyes scanning over her until they widened at the exact same time the tips of his ears went red. 

She’d lost her top at some point during the night - something she hadn’t realised until the cold morning air had hit her bare skin. Azriel turned around quickly, the glass of water in his hand sloshing over slightly with the speed at which he averted his gaze.  “Fuck. Sorry! I thought.. You said to come in and I thought… fuck .” 

Elain quickly tugged the sheets back up to her chin, fighting the urge to pull them over her head altogether and suffocate herself from embarrassment. Twice now, she’d woken up in Azriel’s house on the day after Christmas naked in one of his beds. Maybe next year she’d check off the last remaining room. 

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t even realise I - wait, you can turn around…” she fumbled with her words, watching as he slowly turned to face her. His cheeks were pink and the hand that wasn’t cradling a glass of water and an entire pack of headache tablets came up to fidget with the worn neck of the old t-shirt he’d chucked on this morning. “I always get so hot at night and I usually sleep with a fan and I just must’ve… taken it off. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I should’ve gotten you a change of clothes but I didn’t want to…” he trailed off, coming closer to hand her the water as he opened up the packet of tablets and slipped out a few. “I barely saw anything, if that helps.” 

Elain took the tablets from him. “Barely anything, huh?”

She took a small bit of satisfaction from the way he frowned in confusion before he caught on, the blush that had finally subsided from his cheeks came back full force. 

“ Not what I meant,” Azriel shook his head, raking a hand through his hair as she tossed back the tablets. “There’s plenty to see… just the right amount.”

“I’d stop speaking now if I were you,” Elain rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the tablets and the water and for letting me stay the night.”

“It’s nothing,” Azriel shrugged, gingerly sitting on the very edge of the bed. His eyes scanned over her again, lingering on the bare skin of her shoulder that had escaped the cover of the duvet before they slid to her fingers and then back up to her face. “Are you feeling alright?” 

“Could be better,” she answered, realising that she hadn’t actually gotten around to responding the first time he’d asked her. “Can’t drink like I used to, I suppose.”

“You’ve never drank like that, Lain.” Azriel chuckled. “I think that’s part of the problem.”

He was right. She was notoriously a lightweight when it came to alcohol and had never needed more than four or five drinks before she was just the right amount of drunk. 

“A shower and some food and I’ll feel brand new,” she sighed. 

“I’ll grab you a towel and some clothes,” he nodded, fingers mindlessly tapping at his knee. “Have a shower and come down, I’ll make you some breakfast and then if you’re up for it we can go over to the studio and I’ll fix your necklace. Fresh air might do you some good.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Az. I’ll call Feyre to pick me up and get out of your way.” Elain started to look around for where she might’ve tossed her top, suddenly anxious that she’d been here too long. That she was eating into his day, once again taking up time that she didn’t deserve. 

“I know that I don’t have to, Elain. I want to.” He insisted, voice gentle as ever as he looked over at her. “You aren’t in my way.”

Elain didn’t say anything, just looked down at her lap as he stood up, adjusting the waistband of the plaid pajama pants he had on. “Chocolate chip or blueberry?” 

“What?”

“Pancakes,” Azriel clarified, a shy grin on his lips. “Chocolate chip or blueberry?” 

“Blueberry, please.” Elain couldn’t help but mirror her grin, especially when her stomach audibly grumbled at the mere mention of food. 

An hour or so later, Elain sat quietly, perched  on a bench top in Azriel’s workshop. She was warm from the scorching shower she’d taken and clothed in an assortment of clothes that he’d handed her with a towel this morning - his shirt, his sweatpants… a lacy pair of underwear she recognised as the ones she hadn’t bothered to search for when she’d snuck out of his house the previous year.

She watched him as he took a seat, sliding a frame of protective glasses over his eyes before he fired up a small torch. He situated himself, leaning forward as he began to carefully solder Elain’s necklace back together. 

She told herself she was just watching a master at work but her attention had drifted from the actual work being done to focus on the movement of his deft fingers, the shifting muscles of his strong back and shoulders. She studied the side of his face - the slope of his nose, the concentrated furrow of his brows, the way his lips pressed together as he worked. 

She didn’t realise just how intensely she’d been staring at him until she found herself looking into his actual eyes rather than just his side profile. Elain quickly sat up straight, rolling her shoulders as she lowered her eyes and tried to keep her cheeks from flooding with colour. 

“You said the necklace broke while you were changing,” Azriel stood up, pushing his glasses back, using them like a headband to keep his thick hair off of his forehead. It was ridiculous that he managed to look good even like that. 

“The way the chain was broken,” he spoke carefully as he approached her. “It didn’t look like a simple snag, it looked like there was some force behind it. 

Elain swallowed, her cheeks now burning for an entirely different reason. She turned to look out of the window to her right, pretending to watch the snow as it drifted lazily from the cold, gray sky. 

“Lain?” Azriel tried again. He was standing in front of her now, just inches from her knees. “How did the necklace really break?”

Elain paused, unsure how to proceed or what to even say. She couldn’t lie to him. Not again. She’d told herself in the shower this morning - after she’d had a small cry and wallowed in self pity - that this needed to be a new start, that she couldn’t keep shutting him out. Especially now that she no longer had the excuse of having a boyfriend in the picture. 

“Graysen… he didn’t like the necklace very much,” she started. “He always had an issue with it, even before he met you. He didn’t like that I never took it off or that it was from a friend . It only got worse after he came home with me and saw us and then when I… when he proposed and I said no, he said that if I didn’t want to accept the ring, I needed to take off the necklace. I guess to prove that I cared about him even if I didn’t want to marry him just yet.” 

“You didn’t take the necklace off,” Azriel stated, eyes boring into her even though she couldn’t quite bring herself to look back at him. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Elain’s voice shook slightly as she thought back to that night. “He obviously wasn’t happy with my choice and so he just… he reached forward and pulled it off of me.”

Elain’s eyes were shut, her heart racing at the memory of how she’d felt that night. How alone she’d been, how momentarily afraid. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Azriel that she’d woken to a small, raised scar on the side of her neck the next morning. She hadn’t realised that she’d been crying until Azriel’s hand cupped her face, the rough pad of his thumb gently sweeping across her cheek to brush away hot tears.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled.

“What are you apologising for?” Azriel asked. 

She could hear the restraint in his voice, the underlying anger that he carried on her behalf. 

“I don’t know,” Elain finally looked at him, giving him a sad smile. “I’ve just been so awful to you for so long now.” 

“You haven’t,” he assured her. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Lain. I just hope you know that how he acted - pulling this off of you - that’s not okay. You didn’t deserve that.” 

“I shouldn’t have led him on…” she shook her head. “I wasted his time. I wasted yours… he was right to be angry with me.” 

“Look at me,” Azriel demanded, palm sliding from her cheek down to her jaw so that he could tilt her face up towards his. “None of that matters.”

“It does though because I -” 

“Elain, did he ever…” Elain’s eyes travelled to the clench of his jaw, the way his throat flexed as he trailed off. “If he put his hands on you…” 

“No, Az.” Elain lifted her hand up to cover his where it still cradled her face. “There were words occasionally and he’d… when we… never mind,” she blushed, swallowing away the bitterness at remembering what the sex had been like after an argument or whenever he’d been jealous. “It was never… he never hit me.” She said finally.

Elain studied Azriel’s face carefully. Let him see that she was okay. That the only marker that anything had happened was a broken necklace that was easily mended. 

She knew where his mind had gone - knew his fears of her being treated the same way his mother had been treated. 

He’d confided in her years ago - told her about what he’d witnessed growing up and the anger he felt towards the man he didn’t even care to call father. Explained how ashamed he felt at being too small to really be able to do anything to help. 

Elain couldn’t bear the thought of him feeling like that again. Certainly not over her. 

“Azriel,” she squeezed his fingers to get his full attention. “He didn’t hurt me. I promise.” 

“Okay,” he nodded eventually, worried eyes meeting hers for one more moment as if to confirm that she was in fact unharmed before he leaned back and picked up her necklace from where he’d sat it on the bench next to her hip. “Here, just like new.” 

Elain didn’t reach for the necklace, instead she just gave him a shy smile and echoed the question she’d asked him when he first presented her with this necklace all those years ago. “Put it on me?” 

Azriel returned her smile with one just as shy, waiting as she gathered her hair and twisted it up to move it out of the way. His hands slipped around her neck, the chain cold against her skin. 

Azriel’s head dipped so that he could see what he was doing, his cheek skimming her hair as he took his time fastening the necklace. She’d missed the feeling, the reassuarance that the small bit of gold nestled against her chest provided her. 

“Last night… Did you mean what you said?” His question was so quiet, half hushed by the way his face was tilted into her hair. 

“Oh god,” she groaned, dread seeping through her veins. 

She’d been wondering all morning what had happened last night, had been trying to fill in the blanks between the bits she could remember… which wasn’t all that much. She was scared to even ask - afraid to know all the ways she might’ve embarrassed herself the previous night. “I don’t really remember what was said, to be honest.” 

He finally pulled back and straightened up, hands reaching forward to gently maneuver the necklace until it sat just right around her neck. Each brush of his fingers against her skin made her shiver in a way that she couldn’t possibly hide from him. 

The way that he was looking at her certainly didn’t help. Neither did the drag of his thumb against her neck, right over a pulsing vein that gave away her racing heart. 

“Right,” Azriel gave her a nervous smile that made her stomach drop in anticipation. “When Nesta asked you why you said no…”

“I do remember that part,” she cut him off, unable to bear hearing it again although she knew it could only get worse. 

“Well, when it was just us upstairs, after you’d asked me to stay -”

“Jesus, Az, I’m sorry -”

“Not something to apologise for,” the fingers of his other hand tapped out a pattern on her knee that caused yet another shiver to zip up her spine. “I asked you why you stayed with Graysen or with any of the others if you didn’t even actually like them and you told me that it was easier to do that than admit that you, um… wanted me.”

Elain bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced away from him yet again.

“Is that true?” Azriel prodded her for an answer and when she found the courage to look at him again, the look in his eyes, the unmistakable heat, threatened to stop her heart altogether. 

“What happens if I say yes?” She felt breathless, a little dizzy. Just like she felt a year ago when she’d been in a very similar situation - sat on a countertop, Azriel standing in between her knees. Their entire world balancing on a precipice. 

She wasn’t sure when she’d started to lean into his touch. Couldn’t pinpoint when her face had moved so close to his that his nose practically grazed hers. She had no way to tell if he had leaned down or if she had keened upwards, her body arching up to him like a flower seeking the sun. She didn’t know when any of it had happened but she didn’t fight it as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted in anticipation. 

Waiting. Wanting.

He didn’t answer her, only smoothed his thumb over her throat once more before repeating his own question. “Is it true, Elain?” 

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice verging on desperation. 

Azriel swallowed once, eyes tracing a slow path from her eyes to her lips before he answered her with action. 

Their lips met, clumsily at first though they fell into rhythm quickly, muscle memory kicking in as their mouths came together in a way that bordered on frantic. Her hands tangled in his hair while his ventured to her waist, pulling her into him while simultaneously pushing her further back onto the workbench until she was practically flat against it, his body pressing hers down.

“Elain…” Azriel’s voice was almost pained as he said her name, his lips coasting along her jaw, a different kind of restraint in his tone than the restraint he’d spoken with a few minutes before.

“Please,” she all but whimpered, desperate to feel his lips on hers again. 

“Can’t do this if you’re going to run again afterwards, Elain.” He told her, his hands still wandering, sliding under the soft fabric of the shirt she wore. His shirt. 

“I mean… my flight is booked for tomorrow,” she couldn’t help but joke, squealing and squirming as his fingers pressed into her side as punishment. 

“S’not funny,” he grumbled. 

“Sorry, sorry…” she schooled her face into a serious expression. “I do have to go tomorrow but it won’t be because of this, Az. Not this time. I promise.”

“We have a lot of talking to do,” Azriel told her, all the while his hands travelled further up her torso until his fingers grazed the soft skin of her breasts. 

Just that slight touch had her tugging him down towards her as she leaned further back once more, presenting herself to him. His for the taking. 

“Later,” she told him. “Talk later.”

She knew it was stupid  - to once again go down this route without having properly spoken about what they were doing. What this was. If it was even anything. All she knew was that she was tired of pretending. Tired of being afraid of the unknowns, of the what ifs. She wished she had any idea how this would all end, how it would play out. But that was a conversation for another day. Right now, all she wanted, all she needed , was this.  

“Later,” Azriel agreed, smiling into the crook of her neck before coming back up to kiss her again. This time it was unrushed, almost lazy. He took his time familiarising himself with her mouth the same way he took his time circling her nipples with his thumbs. She moaned into his mouth - half at the blissful feeling of his hands on her skin, half at the memory of what that same motion had felt like when he’d slid his hand up under her skirt the last time they’d done this. 

“Always want you like this,” she admitted, mind hazy as his mouth travelled down her neck and over her sternum as he pushed up her t-shirt until his lips were on the bare skin of her stomach. 

“Yeah?” his fingers tucked into the waistband of her sweatpants, tugging them down as she lifted her hips to aid in the process. Her underwear was pulled to the side, his fingers gliding over her entirely too easily with how wet she was for him. She heard him swear under his breath, in awe at his effect on her.

“Always,” she reiterated, gasping as he slowly slid a finger inside her. “For you. Always like this for you. Az, please can we just -”

She was speaking complete gibberish, anxious to get what she’d been coveting all this time even if she hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself. She didn’t want to waste any more time.

“Don’t have a condom with me,” he told her with a kiss to the inside of her thigh as he continued to touch her. She was distracted from her disappointment when he added another finger - tested the stretch of her. 

“You don’t have any here?” The lack of a condom hadn’t been an issue last time but it had been a year and she knew Azriel had a rotation of girls that he occasionally saw so when he didn’t follow up with a but I haven’t been with anyone, she didn’t let herself linger on it for too long. 

“Don’t really make it a habit to have sex in my workplace very often, or ever, to be honest. Safety concerns and all…” he trailed off, his breath hot over where she ached for his touch. “So this might just have to do for now, wanna make you co-”

His words were cut off by a shrill ring from somewhere besides them. 

“Ignore it,” she told him, hips tilting up in search of more as she flung a hand out to the side in search of her phone. Her fingers blindly fumbled on the screen until the ringing stopped. 

Azriel continued, fingers curling in just the right way as he circled her clit with his tongue - ever so slowly bringing her closer and closer to the edge. 

“Az, oh my God, I think, I think -” Elain gasped, grasping at his hair. She wanted to tell him she was close, to not stop, that she was going to come. But the shrill ring of her phone sounded again, effectively ruining the moment.

“You should probably get that,” Azriel reluctantly pulled away, fingers slipping out of her. He sighed deeply, forehead resting against her bare thigh as she reached for her phone and glanced at the screen. 

Two missed calls and fourteen unread texts. If it wasn’t for previous trauma of missed calls and texts, she might’ve let it go and urged Azriel to continue. She tapped on the screen a little harder than necessary.

“Hello, Nesta.” Elain huffed as she sat up, gently pushing Azriel away as she adjusted her underwear and pulled her pants up and her shirt back down. 

Azriel grinned, shamelessly watching as Elain made herself decent to speak to her sister while she tried to pretend like she hadn’t been splayed out on his workbench half naked, with his mouth in between her thighs mere moments ago. 

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been texting you all morning, it’s almost one in the afternoon. I’m glad to know you’re alive.” Nesta rattled off, exasperated. “Azriel wasn’t answering his phone either.” 

“I’m alive. I’m with him. I’ll be home soon.” Elain’s words were short. She couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice at having their time so rudely interrupted. 

She knew the moment was over, that she’d need to go back to her sisters and explain herself. God knows they’d be anxiously waiting for answers now that she’d sobered up. But her disappointment faded because the way Azriel was watching her with bright, happy eyes and lips swollen from kissing her more than made up for it. 

She half listened to whatever Nesta was saying, too focused on the man in front of her - his dark, messy hair. His broad shoulders and strong arms. His calloused hands. All those tattoos that snaked up his arms and over his chest - old, familiar ones and a few new pieces that she longed to learn about. His enviably long eyelashes. Those kind emerald flecked eyes.

This was Azriel. Her Azriel. Her best friend. 

How could she have ever thought this was anything but exactly right?

[ecstarry]

"First Night" a microfic for my best friend who wanted them to have their meet cute at the airport 🤍✨

"I’m sorry, that was the last flight of the night, sir," the airline attendant said apologetically.

Regulus knew there was nothing the woman standing in front of him could do to help him, but that didn't stop his frustration from washing over his face. He lazily walked over to the only available seat, picked up his legs, and rested his head on his knees.

The weight of his emotions was too heavy for his eyes to stay open.

When he woke up, his face was no longer resting on his body but on a stranger's shoulder. Regulus’ heart was about to leap out of his chest as he realized what happened. As his eyes began to adjust, he finally focused on the man he had been all over just moments ago.

Fuck.

He didn’t know what would’ve been worse: to wake up and find he had spent a night with someone he found… not attractive? Or waking up to the realization that he had drooled for hours on the most handsome man he had ever seen.

“I think introductions are in order,” his voice, oh god. “You know since we spent the night together and all that. I’m James.”

James smiled, and it was as if the sun was shining just for him.

“I’m Regulus.”

all of my microfics with your prompts are here

[cassandracain52]

The Batfamily on a roadtrip:

Bruce: The Driver. You really thought his control freak ass was gonna let someone else drive? Be so fr. Has a migraine the size of the WatchTower and has been seriously contemplating pulling over, getting out of the car, and just walking. Not anywhere particular, just walking away. Has already had to pull over twice to swap seating arrangements around and they've only driven 3 1/2 hours out of 11. (They will do this at least 3 more times before they reach their destination)

Barbara: Shotgun. Declared that as second oldest and second most experienced vigilante that the front seat was her birth given right. No one contested it(successfully anyway). Has been helpfully navigating the fastest route much to Bruce "I know where I'm going" Wayne's annoyance. (Her way was in fact more efficient and she is incredibly smug about it.)

Jason: Behind the Passenger seat. Wanted the front seat but wasn't willing to physically fight Babs for it which was what she assured him it would have taken to get her to move. Brought a backpack full of nothing but snacks that he is only sharing with people that aren't actively annoying him aka Cass. Keeps playing words with friends with Roy on his phone and is Kicking Ass

Cassandra: Middle Left. Volunteered for the middle seat because she wanted to sit next to Jason aka the Snack Source while still being close enough to comfortably talk to Babs and Steph. Is one of the few enjoying the drive and just in general living her best life. Somehow painted both her own and Steph’s nails perfectly while the car was in motion. No one is sure how she did this and they were watching

Stephanie: Middle Right. Was originally sitting Middle Back next to Tim but caused the first seat swap when she got bored and decided Tim made suitable entertainment(imagine like in Detective comics #1000). Bruce declared the car a "No Flirting Zone" shortly after. Pouted for all of thirty seconds before she realized she got to sit next to Cass and abandoned Tim without a second thought. Is also the person pointing to the window and going “cows!” Whenever they pass some

Dick: Behind the Driver's seat. Chose his seat while everyone else was fighting for shotgun because he wanted to be able to see Babs during the drive so they could talk without shouting.(he knew good and well she was winning that fight). Has had a few arguments with Jason but they didn't last or get out of hand with Cass between them. Did manage to steal a bag of chips from Jason’s snackpack while he was on his phone. The roadtrip was his idea and he refuses to admit it was not well thought out.

Tim: Back Left. Was thoroughly betrayed when Steph abandoned him to be left with the two youngest bats and said so at length. Only quieted when Jason threw a pack of gummy worms at his head with a demand for silence. Brought an abundance of handheld electronics despite knowing he gets car sick. He threw up on the side of the road 90 minutes into the trip and Dick confiscated anything that had a screen until they reached their destination. He is his own worst enemy. Has since resorted to playing the license plate game with Duke

Duke: Back Middle. Was originally in between Cass and Dick but had to move to sit Back Left next to Damian when Steph took his spot. He stayed there for exactly 45 minutes before Damian caused the second seat swap when he attempted to strangle Tim with his headphones because he was "breathing obnoxiously". Is now a human barrier and he hates it. Jason offered him a small amount of sympathy by offering him some Sour Patch Kids. Duke accepted them. Bruce was more sympathetic and gave him DJ control. Is mostly just talking with Tim who is bored since his electronics were taken.

Damian: Back Right. Attempted to attack Stephanie with a pillow because he “couldn’t listen to her and Drake anymore and she was closer” before the first seat swap occurred. Did not regret his actions in the slightest. Warned his father that nothing good would come from him sitting directly beside Tim, was ignored, and then moved when "nothing good" did indeed come. Despite these to things, he actually spent the majority of the drive with his headphones on full volume and messing around on his phone while he pretended to be anywhere other than there.

Alfred: In The Car Following Behind Them. Yeah there was no way he was getting in that car. He knows a recipe for disaster when he sees one. Didn't hesitate to "offer" that he would happily transport all the luggage and supplies and meet them there. Was already loaded up and ready to go in a separate car before anyone could question him. Somehow got there first and had made dinner for them when they all finally showed up with half the car at war with the other half. Peace was made only in the name of Alfred’s cooking

[evostrashbin]

maid Kiran concept doodle to go along with butler Grima <3

[shyguygubbs]

I was thinking about kotlc recently and how the Black Swan originally wanted to wait to bring Sophie into the Lost Cities until way later, probably when she turned 18, and how different of a person Sophie would have been if that were the case.

Like at the start of the series, she's this child prodigy who has to go to community college in the fall at the age of 12 because her parents won't let her go to Yale (a totally valid parental choice btw), and the thing is I think she would have THRIVED in that environment. Like at first she would be scared and hesitant because in all other school environments she has been bullied for being as smart as she is, but now she's going into a school that people choose to go to in order to learn. Community college doesn't just have mean, jealous teenagers who attend, there are people of all ages and all walks of life who are ready to learn. Sure, Sophie would still be the youngest one there, and I doubt it would be super easy with the whole mind reading thing, but she would be in a much more supportive environment when it comes to learning than anything else she's experienced.

She'd be able to make friends with her peers, being able to bond over a shared love of whatever they're studying, and these friends don't think she's too smart or too weird. She maybe finds some way to muffle the voices in her head better than her earplugs did. Yeah, she still gets headaches, but she can manage it. I can see her taking as many classes as she can, figuring out her passions and what she might want to do as a career. She'd be in a fantastic place academically to transfer to any school she wants when she turns 18. I can even see her parents letting her graduate when she's 17 and allowing her to transfer to a four year college to get a bachelor's in whatever she wants to study, whatever she finds her passion for, because she worked hard for this, and doesn't hate school now, and has found a path for herself in life that feels right.

And then the Black Swan shows up and whisks her away from all of that, and she's heartbroken because she doesn't need to be taken away from everything she's worked so hard for. Yeah it feels nice to finally have the whole mind reading question answered, but she doesn't need a new place to belong, she has one. I imagine this Sophie being a lot more confident in herself, but a lot angrier too. She's fascinated by her new world, but desperately wants to go back home, to just live out the life she's been working towards. I can see her working side by side with the Black Swan from the jump, because she's in a world with injustice and she can't just sit back and let this slide, but constantly fighting back this resentment for them and how they took everything from her. I think of how canon Sophie had a brief moment of hesitation when it came to training her Telepathy, and I think this older Sophie would be conflicted between wanting to know more about this abnormality that she's been dealing with her whole life, and wanting to cling to her human identity and her old life as much as she possibly can. Because she's been ripped away from it, and no matter what her genetics say, this Sophie still views herself as human.

[twotales]

Me: I've been writing a lot lately

Therapist: Oh yeah? What are you writing?

Me: Oh- uh- nothing really just fanfic 😅

Therapist: Fanfic is writing, you have been doing it for over twenty years. It's something you love and there is nothing wrong with that. Nobody bats an eye when people write cover music, or a movie based on a book. It is not nothing, it's a big deal, especially for you and the community you share it with.

Me: sniffling 🥹 okay

[sailoryooons]

My best friend in real life who got me into BTS and who doesn’t know I write fanfiction just texted me and was like “you’re going to think I’m crazy but do you know where to read good kpop reader fanfic” because she has no idea I’m sailoryooons

[an-established-butt-dent]

“Solas?“

“Yes, Vhenan."

“What are you drawing?“

He still has his eyes on the piece of parchment in front of him, but slows down the repetetive movements of his hand tracing the shapes on paper, as if that might offer him more time to find his answer. "Oh, just some practice. It helps me sort my thoughts," he says with the casual air of somebody trying to evade a question.

“Can I see, then?“

He glances up briefly and notices she has stopped reading her book on the early history of Neromanian magic. She has one elbow propped up on the table and rests her chin on her hand. She is looking at him expectantly, her book clearly forgotten.

He pauses the scratchy movements of his pencil and says rather hesitantly.

"It's not finished."

She leans forward a bit more, trying to catch a glimpse at his paper. He subtly angles it away from her. She might have barely noticed, had she not noted his newfound secrecy regarding his recent drawings. She has become increasingly curious over the past few weeks, and his forced casual demeanor after her question only fills her with more anticipation.

It makes her think of the first time he showed her his artwork. …

The first time she had walked into the rotunda in Skyhold and found Solas high up on the scaffolding with a paint brush in his hands and a concentrated look on his face, she was surprised to learn of his motivation.

"History needs to be documented," he had said when she asked him what he was working on.

After climbing down the scaffolding and taking a step back to admire the process of his work, he continued, "Not by the words of diplomats, but through the eyes of those skilled in artistry. Words will be forgotten, but images? Those will hold significance across time."

She had been moved then. By the bold lines in the fresco and the fierce look in his eyes as he regarded her as he spoke. Like she was someone worthy of admiration. Like he truly saw her. It reminded her of his words before their first kiss.

'You change everything.' He had said.

She didn't really believe him then. She didn't want to be put on a pedestal, far removed from the world and the simple and nomadic lifestyle of her clan that she was accustomed to. She missed roaming mountains and hills, not fighting blighted Templars and navigating treacherous games of power with nobles. That life had seemed like such a long time ago, even though it had barely been a year.

But perhaps she didn't need to suffer though all of this alone. She had her friends. Dorian with his jokes. Varric with his stories. Cassandra with her quiet support and camaderie. Iron Bull helping her with her fighting stances and teaching her new drinking games with Cullen. Even Cole, though he was still figuring out what the word friend even meant. She would help him with that, she had decided then. Friends; they made the aching pull of homesickness more bearable.

But Solas.

Who was he to her? She could call him her friend the supposed. She had the feeling they were becoming closer and yet there was an undeniable distance. Always leaving space for interpretation and mystery while never backing away from any of her questions. So much knowledge he shared, and still she had the feeling she barely knew him at all. He had slowly and unknowingly developed a talent for surprising her with new insights and he did so later again that same evening.

The next hour passed quickly while they were still talking about art and the different depictions of elven lore. He had stared at her intently for a moment, considering her.

"I want to show you something." he had said.

She never passed up an opportunity to learn more so she had indulged him, following him to a plain-looking crate to the side of the room. He removed the protective wards with a wave of his hand. He then uncovered some, by the looks of it, handbound books. He observed them one by one carefully, with a nod of acceptance when he seemingly found what he was looking for and handed her one of the books.

As she opened the first few pages she discovered they were sketchbooks filled with rough outlines in preparation for the next installment of the mural.

Excitedly he pointed to notes in the margin and spoke of where he learned the techniques for collecting and grinding his own pigments. There was a red ocre in the Western Approach that he had recently discovered on one of their missions which was apparently incredibly well suited for his purpose. At her encouragement he had shown her more of of his other drawings too. First of symbolism and color studies, but then more personal ones: of the views of the mountains from Skyhold, running Halla, drying herbs and even of some of the members of the inquisition she recognized.

In turn she told him about how she used to carve wood, especially when winters were rough and her clan was stuck in the same place for long waiting out the biting cold and punishing snow. To keep her fingers from freezing and her mind from wandering to dark places, she had started to carve.

"I haven't had the time since, well you know, this whole mess." she waved the fingers of her marked hand which flashed a sliver of green. Solas had looked thoughtful after her comment, almost like there was a tinge of regret behind his eyes.

The conversation steered in a different direction afterwards, like the seriousness of their predicament weighted more heavily on their shoulders than before. The mysterious books disappeared back into the chest and not long after she had excused herself and called it a night. Somehow she couldn't shake the feeling she had overstepped.

A few days later she returned from a short scouting mission. She climbed the steps to her sleeping quarters, exhausted. She hardly noticed there was an odd-shaped package leaning against her bedroom door until she almost stumbled over it. Her tiredness trading itself for curiosity, she moved to pick it up.

There was no note attached but once she unwrapped the bundle she discovered a beautiful and distinctive elven carving knife and a solid piece of oak wood.

She couldn't help the warm feeling that spread though her body, feeling the comforting weight of the wood and the cool metal of the knife in her hands.

….

She shakes her head as she's brought back to the present. That same rotunda they have since spend so much of their time together. Researching, reading and talking. There had been barely an evening where she didn't end up in the rotunda with Solas. At least when she wasn't away from Skyhold, trying to save the world on missions throughout Thedas.

She looks at Solas from her spot at the table with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

It takes a lot of effort to hide her smile.

Whith an amused tilt to the corner of her lips she says, "You know, Dorian told me he found some sketchbooks laying around, depicting a rather familiar elf. Anything you would know about that?"

Is he… Is he blushing?

"Um, Well you see." he cleares his throat trying to school his expression. "Those were private… And hidden for a reason."

She can't contain a smile. Solas flustered, that's a rare sight.

"You've seen them?" he askes quietly. She notices he has started fumbling with the edges of the paper. She didn't believe his ears could turn a brighter shade of pink.

"Maybe," she says while averting her eyes to the ceiling. She glances back to him out of the corner of her eyes.

Solas looks at her like she has grown an extra pair of ears.

She leans back in her chair and stretches out her legs comfortably under the table. Knowing she has him she doesn't want to push more and decides to spare him some of her teasing. She turns to look at him and softens her expression.

"I rather liked them."

Knowing that is probably not enough to explain why she had looked at his private belongings without permission and seeing the dumbfounded expression on his face slowly making space for embarrassment she decides to tell the whole story.

"I know shouldn't have overstepped, but Dorian said he had something urgent to discuss and before I was even halfway up the stairs he assaulted me with flying books, shouting about discovering my secret admirer. Either I would have stumbled to death or caught them. And, well… Once I started looking I couldn't look away… " she trails off with a slight tinge of shame in her voice.

"You liked them?“

She lookes at him, surprised by the hopefulness in his voice.

A wave of understanding washes over her.

He hid the drawings from her, not because he didn't want her to see them but because he was afraid of her rejection. Even though they had spent the last few months becoming more and more tangled up with each other, stealing fleeting glances and sometimes passionate kisses, they still hadn't really taken a moment to talk about what there was between them.

When she saw the drawings he made of her she had finally understood his interest in her was genuine and went beyond anything resembling a casual dalliance - something she can now confess to have been rather afraid of, because she had developed deeper feelings for him from the moment he started sharing detailed stories dreamt in the fade and his perspective on magic intertwined with life. And then there had been that first kiss… Wel let's just say she's in way too deep to turn back now.

And for all the effort he put into keeping emotional distance between them, he had apparently failed from the moment he had started putting her likeless on paper. For she could see the passion and emotion in the lines, soft shadows and hidden meanings. It made them stand out from all the other drawings she had seen by his hand.

What he couldn't yet put into words, he had found a different way of showing.

"Yes I-" suddenly feeling unsure she pauses for a moment and crosses her arms looking for the right words. "The drawings, they reminded me of who I could be." She takes a deep breath finds her courage and continues. "Someone who people will tell stories about. Not stories about Divine intervention, but of an elven woman's fight for justice. For a kinder world. Somehow I never really managed to see myself that way when I look in the mirror. But those drawings… I guess it's easier to understand who I've become by seeing myself through your eyes. To see the change I'm part of, but most of all to remind myself of where I came from."

She had uncrossed her arms and angled her body towards him over the table. A determined expression rests on her face. He hadn't taken his eyes of her from the moment she started talking.

He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, considering his reply.

"Very well" he says while some of the tension visibly drains away from his body. She raises her eyebrows in question. "Then it's only time you started showing me your carvings in return. Some good blocks of wood have gone missing. I overheard Blackwall complaining about recently." He shares the accusations with a bemused smile on his lips.

Now it was her turn to blush.

"I was planning on showing you, but first I wanted to practice… " she trailed off her sentence, knowing she doesn't actually have a valid excuse for hiding it from him. And it was not like she hadn't backed him into a corner first.

Feeling relieved he wasn't pulling away at her recent discovery she changes her mind with newfound courage and stands up abruptly while extending her hand in invitation. The purpose of their late night reading session forgotten.

"You're right. And I'm willing to offer you a tour of my recent carving exploits, but only if you can refrain from commenting over the woodchips carpeting the floor." He starts to move as if to get up but she makes him pause as she isn't done yet. "But in turn I will pose for your next drawing." Solas looks at her confused for a moment, as if considering her question.

She pauzes for a moment and adds without hesitation.

"Naked."

"What?"

"That's right."

From a balcony upstairs they could hear some muffled movement followed by a familiar voice echoing down "You know Solas, if you're looking for nude models you only need to ask!"

"Dorian!" they say in unison, horrified.

Solas quickly tucks the sketches under his arm and stands up to grasp her hand, surprising her by pulling her close so fast she has to steady herself with her other hand landing on his chest.

Only a breath away from her ear he says softly so only she can hear.

"It seems like you found yourself a deal, ma Vhenan."

She squeezes his hand in response and when she looks at him there isn't a hint of his previous embarrassment. Instead there is a look of hunger and challenge in his eyes. It's so easy then, to lean over and kiss him, her lips a promise and Dorian's earlier interuption temporarily forgotten. Before she can get lost in the soft press of his lips she pulls back and feels a delighted thrill in the way he slightly chases them as she takes a step back. With a teasing smile on her lips she tugs on his hand bringing him back to reality and encouraging him to follow. As they make their way quietly towards the door she throws a judgemental look over her shoulder towards where she imagines Dorian to be hiding.

She is just able to make out a muffled conversation on the first floor "… These lovesick fools seem to keep forgetting this is a public space, if they don't want an audience they should find a room!"

Not sure if she should be terribly embarrassed or slightly thankful for Dorians intervention she doesn't manage to hide her smile.

"Let's get out of here then." she says as they start to make their way through Skyhold.

He squeezes her hand.

"Gladly."

[artiststarme]

Win Some, Lose Some

Based on a prompt from @mysticcrownshipper. Thank you and I hope it meets your expectations! Please leave your thoughts in the comments.

~*~*~*~

Steve was pretty sure he was unlovable. It was the only reason that made sense as to why everyone always treated him like this. What about him made people feel the need to put him down in every conversation or ignore him completely? Neglect wasn’t a new feeling to Steve. No, he was all too used to being uncared for and left alone. He had been since his parents started leaving him for weeks at a time to go on business trips and vacations when he was nine. Neglect wasn’t new to him nor was the underappreciation and ignorance that was constantly present in the Party. Every person he talked to made him feel like an inconvenience and he was sick of it.

Robin was supposed to be his best friend, his platonic soulmate with a capital P, his ride or die. So why was she belittling him and downplaying his feelings every chance she could? Any time Steve wanted to vent about Eddie or talk about his feelings, she would shut it down. She’d tell him that Eddie was just new to relationships and that his feelings were misplaced. She made him feel the worst out of everyone in the Party because she was the one he expected to be on his side the most. Steve ignored it mostly because what else could he do? Call her on it and risk losing her completely? No, it was best to push down his ‘misplaced feelings’ and pretend to laugh when she put him down. It’s not like he didn’t have the practice.

The kids were just as awful as they always were, completely taking him for granted. They expected Steve to give up everything without giving anything back. He has a date with Eddie that night? They want him to drop it and give them a ride to the pool. He has a headache and doesn’t feel like doing anything? Who cares, they need him to watch their DnD campaign. Oh, he doesn’t have enough money for groceries that week? He has to have enough to give them some for the arcade though, right?

Eddie certainly wasn’t helping either. He was constantly neglecting their relationship and placing it as his lowest priority. Steve would go out of his way to make plans with him only for him to cancel last minute or neglect to show at all. He’d go without calling Steve for days, blow him off when he did something nice for him, and poke fun at Steve’s expense to make the others laugh. It was to the point where it wasn’t making just Steve uncomfortable but the Corroded Coffin boys as well. 

He thought he was hiding his hurt feelings pretty well but when Eddie said a comment that hit a little too close to home for him, Steve ducked out of his own dining room to smoke a cigarette he definitely didn’t need. When he heard his sliding door inch open, he hoped that it would be Eddie coming to apologize but it turned out to be a worried Jeff instead. 

“Hey man, you alright?” He asked him, his eyes glimmering in concern. 

“Yeah, man,” Steve nodded before taking a long drag. “It’s fine, he does that all the time. It’s cool.”

Jeff didn’t look convinced and narrowed his eyes at the half-burnt cigarette. “It’s not cool at all. Why are you smoking, I thought you quit?”

Steve sighed, “yeah well, I couldn’t kick it completely. It makes a good excuse for when I need a break. Plus, Wayne is a really bad role model and keeps buying an extra pack for me when he gets his. I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m thinking of quitting, he’d be crushed.”

“I get it.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of them when Jeff spoke again. “Hey, you want to hang out at band practice with the guys and I on Monday? Eddie won’t be there but you could just hang with us.”

“You want to hang out with me without Eddie? You guys don’t even like me.” Steve told him deadpan. 

“What? Yes we do! We think you’re cool and if you ever want to swing by, we’d love to have you. We need an unbiased judge for our music.”

Steve hummed, “okay, what time on Monday?”

“Um, I think eleven. AM, not PM. Just come and hang out with us in Gareth’s garage. His mom is making tuna salad for us,” Jeff added. 

“Well how could I ever resist tuna salad?” Steve laughed, it felt like a long time since he’s done that. 

Jeff pointed at him, “that’s what I’m saying! And ditch the cigarettes, you won’t need a break with us. We won’t treat you like that.”

Steve nodded as Jeff went back inside. It was nice to be invited somewhere without an ulterior motive. Steve found himself looking forward to Monday so he could just relax without having to fake a part. He was excited and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way.

~*~*~*~

Word must have spread after that because suddenly, everyone outside of the main Party members wanted to hang out. The Corroded Coffin boys were teaching him how to play guitar and making him sing choruses alongside Jeff. Nancy was inviting Steve over for girl’s night to talk shit about Eddie and Robin. Murray was luring Steve to his bunker with promises of authentic Russian vodka and “sticking it to the man”, Steve didn’t accept that offer but he did appreciate it. Even Hopper and Joyce were inviting him out for milkshakes and basketball practice. 

Steve was having the most fun though with Phil and his new boyfriend Dio. Dio was a goth, twenty something with a sarcastic personality and a stupid sense of humor that complemented Phil’s. Just looking at him, Steve could tell that he and Phil shared a type (a fact often laughed at by Dio). It seemed they both went for alternative guys with shitty tastes in music. When Phil had first introduced the two, they had both been wary of one another; Steve because the guy looked like the type to stab his enemies and Dio because this preppy jock could out him and ruin his life. They soon found common ground however over their love of horror movies and Queen music. Now, Steve saw Dio as another older brother of sorts and couldn’t picture Phil with anyone else. 

 They invited him over biweekly for dinner and movie nights with horror films that left Steve itching with anxiety. But he was finally having fun. With all of the unexpected invites, he didn’t have any time to spend with the Party. Soon, he found out that that was intentional.  

He made a comment to Phil and Dio at one of their dinners that he hadn’t seen any of the Party in a while and that it almost seemed like he was avoiding them to hang out with other people. They both just looked at him blankly and Phil told him deadpan, “Well, duh. We made a plan to keep them away from you, we’re not going to make it easy on them. Now eat your green beans before they go cold.”

Steve just blinked at him. “What do you mean you made a plan? I’m confused.”

Dio gave Phil the side-eye and smiled a strained smile at Steve. “Alright look, we heard from your band friend that your other friends were being dumbasses and decided that they needed a time out. But you didn’t deserve to suffer so we made plans with you to keep you busy and to keep them away. Got it?”

No, Steve did not ‘get it’. 

“Why would you do that? That’s just how they are.”

Phil whipped his head up and almost knocked over his glass of chocolate milk in his haste to point a finger at Steve. “Excuse me?! They’ve been this way the whole time? Then why the hell are you friends with them?”

Steve blinked. “Because they want to be friends with me. It’s not like many people want to.”

Both Phil and Dio stared at him in sadness. They clearly didn’t see that coming. They looked at each other, back at Steve, then back at each other before Dio spoke. 

“We have to step it up then and really make them suffer. Here’s what we’re going to do, we’re going to make them jealous. If they haven’t realized that we’re trying to steal you already, they will soon enough. I’ll make the calls and we can really escalate things.”

“What the hell, um no. Let’s not do that? I just- what?” Steve stammered. 

“No, just trust me. We can make them really jealous with this plan. I’ve done it before, I’m a pro at getting revenge,” Dio smirked at him. 

Steve just stared at him and Phil nodded in agreement. 

“That’s true,” he said through a mouthful of green beans. “He’s gay and vengeful, that’s the worst kind. But remember, I’m an officer of the law so you have to keep it legal this time.”

“This time?!”

~*~*~*~

Dio wasn’t kidding about his revenge plan. He started coming around to Family Video on his lunch breaks in an attempt to confuse Eddie. He had the Corroded Coffin boys inviting Steve over almost daily and even Uncle Wayne taking him out for coffee and donuts. It was all Steve had ever wanted and deep down, he was a little sad that it had to be an act. 

Three weeks in though, the Party started to notice and it was all worth it. The kids came in to glare at the random goth weirdo that was monopolizing his time at work and complained to each other that their calls to the Harrington house were going unanswered. 

Robin was stuck working with Keith when Steve switched his shifts and her attempts to brag about Vickie went unanswered on the walkie. She couldn’t help but wonder where her best friend had gone or what had caused his absence. 

Eddie kept seeing Steve leave Gareth’s garage right as he got there and whenever he asked the guys, he got a disinterested, “yeah, we’re teaching him how to play the guitar. He was just stopping by.”

He reached a breaking point when he walked into Family Video to see a goth standing shoulder to shoulder with Steve in the horror section. Steve was smiling and nodding along to whatever the guy was saying and Eddie had had enough. 

“Hey! Who are you? Why are you standing so close to him huh? He’s taken!”

Steve just looked at him unimpressed. “Oh, are we still dating? I wasn’t sure considering you haven’t talked to me in three weeks.”

“What, three weeks? It hasn’t been that long. Even still, you’re going to go after a goth? What the fuck, Steve?” Eddie shook his head at him like Steve was in the wrong. 

“This is my brother’s boyfriend, Dio. We’re trying to pick out a movie that’s going to scare Phil. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Oh, um. Can we talk?” Eddie murmured, chagrined. 

“No, I don’t think we should. There’s literally nothing you could say to make me forgive any of you. You, Robin, and the kids have ignored me for weeks and I didn’t even do anything wrong. And now you’re jealous because I’m talking to a guy that’s not you? No.”

Eddie’s face dropped. “Are you, are you breaking up with me?”

Steve’s mouth twisted, this hadn’t been part of the original plan but it did feel right. “Yeah, I am.”

“Um, okay. I’m gonna, I'm gonna go,” Eddie whispered before darting out of the store. 

Steve sadly watched him leave as Dio just looked between him and the door. “Well goddamn, you broke up with him? The whole plan was for everyone to make him jealous so he treated you better. I didn’t know that you wanted to dump him.”

“I didn’t either. But these past few weeks have taught me that the Party really aren’t great friends to have. And Eddie isn’t really a good boyfriend. I don’t want to go back to how it was,” Steve murmured. His chest felt heavy with loss and he could feel a tension headache creeping in. 

“Hey, look at me,” Dio met his eyes and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You have to do what’s right for you and if that means cutting ties with toxic people, that’s what you have to do. There’s no shame in that.”

Steve nodded at him and broke away from his hold to get back to work. It was going to take some adjusting to losing the Party but it was the best thing for now. He’d been put down and mistreated too much by them to let them so easily off the hook once again. It was about time he put himself first, even if it meant losing the friends he’d thought he’d never lose.

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[enixamyram]

Basically I saw people arguing whether or not Charlie would accept any of the Vees (especially Valentino) into the hotel. And it gave me ideas that I know I'm never gonna write so I'll just share it instead! XD

Random Story Idea I Got Based On Seeing Others Discuss:

What If The Vees Checked Into The Hazbin Hotel

Since the big fight with the angels, it has been proven once and for all that demons can be redeemed via Sir Pentious visiting with Emily to confirm Charlie's dream for her. The Hotel's all happy and celebrating but not everyone in hell is.

The Vees as some such people because if Charlie starts redeeming sinners then that will be less souls they can get contracts with. But they have no way to stop them since Sir Pentious and Emily made a pretty grand display and if they fight too hard then it could backfire on them. So, they come up with their plan. They decide to pretend they also want to be redeemed. All three of them ask to join the hotel with the secret purpose of spying on them and sabotaging it from the inside out.

Charlie knows they are full of shit. Everyone knows it. But if Charlie refuses them without any proof, it would cost the hotel since Charlie's whole point is that everyone and anyone should get the chance if they ask for it. In the end, she knows that if they say no, they would essentially be sabotaging the hotel's good reputation and lose other sinners who genuinely want to redeem but are too afraid to come forward for fear of being judged for past sins.

So, Charlie is forced to say yes and let them in. But then immediately gets Vaggie, Husk and Alastor to work spying on the Vees spying on them. The goal is to catch them breaking any of the main hotels rules so that Charlie has a legit reason to kick them out.

On the very first night, Val tries to go to Angel's room since he avoided him all day only to find Nifty dutifully cleaning the hallway just outside. It turns out Charlie assigned her the job of keeping the Vees (specifically Val) from distubring other guests (specifically Angel). Cue some humor as Val is freaked out by Nifty because, well, it's Nifty and she tore a chunk out of him and then went on to kill the first man.

So, Husk is trying to get dirt on Val and the two have confrontations about Angel - which leads to Huskerdust! Alastor is riling up Vox to get him to do something stupid and the two just repeatedly try to one up each other and get on each others nerves. And Vaggie is assigned Velvette who isn't giving anything away and even mocks the fact that she knows Vaggie is spying on her (like taking a selfie with Vaggie obviously hiding in the background and tagging her in posts on her socials).

There'd be a bit of humor but also some dramatic angst with the Vees using the spying/riling/confrontations to show the Hotel is picking on them and whatever other techniques they can to turn people against the Hotel.

So yeah. That's my rambles of an idea!