#should i make this a full fanfic?

[throwmethroughawindow]

Ace Begging preview (Ace x F!Reader)

“You’re doing so good for me baby,”

I murmured against the warm skin of Ace’s abs, swiping my tongue against his salty skin as another one of his moans filled the quiet room; one of his hands buried in my hair pushing my mouth closer to his body as the other was gripping the bedspread. Nipping at his sharp V-line, I couldn’t help but let my hands wander to cup his bulge as another shaky moan spilled from his plush lips as he pressed his hips up to chase after my hand. Licking along every dip and stopping to suck a hickey every couple of inches until I made it to the waistband of his boxers, letting my tongue slip underneath it as he tugged on my hair a little harder, another whimper falling from him.

“Please sweetness, please.” Ace’s deep voice always sent a wave of heat through me, but when he was begging? That could bring anyone to their knees to do anything and everything he asked of them. 

“Please what baby?” I moved my hand off of his bulge to tug the waistband down to lick another stripe as he arched his back. I continued to pull off his boxers, freeing his thick cock to slap against his stomach; the flushed red tip extremely shiny with all the precum that had been leaking from all of the kissing and licking I’ve been doing.

“God, you’re so beautiful baby. I can't wait to show you how much I missed you."

[twistiraki]

🎀Headcanons how Twisted Wonderland boys met you and what kind of family you'd have 🎀 Ignihyde and Diasomnia

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ TᗯIᔕTEᗪ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᒪᗩᑎᗪ Characters Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Azul, Jade, Floyd x F!Reader Warnings none ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

💀Idia Shroud

Idia and Y/n's paths crossed at an anime convention where they both shared a love for games and geek culture. Y/n donned a cosplay of one of Idia's favorite game characters, catching his eye instantly. Nervously, he mustered the courage to ask for a photo, and to his delight, Y/n gladly agreed with a bright smile. However, underneath his hoodie, Y/n noticed a faint glow, and her curiosity was piqued. Blushing and feeling anxious, Idia admitted that it was not a cosplay but his actual, blue flamy hair. Y/n found him even more exciting and beautiful, and without hesitation, she asked him on a date. Idia tried to deny it, but his heart had already been stolen by her charm. Unable to resist, he agreed.

Idia and Y/n are blessed with two wonderful children. Their daughter, Lyra, has inherited her father's shy and withdrawn nature, but with Y/n's gentle encouragement, she blossoms into a confident and creative young girl. Their son, Darius, is the spitting image of Idia, with the same blue flamy hair and sharp teeth. He shares his father's enthusiasm for gaming and engineering, and together with Y/n's support, he excels in both fields.

🐉Malleus Draconia:

Y/n worked as a knowledgeable guide at an old castle with intricate gargoyles. She, a knowledgeable guide, led tours and noticed Malleus returning again and again. He couldn't resist coming back for her tours, enchanted by both the castle's beauty and Y/n's expertise. On the third tour, she couldn't help but recognize his unique horns. Intrigued, she asked him what fascinated him so much about the tour, and Malleus couldn't resist sharing that he was captivated by the castle's most beautiful gargoyle – Y/n herself. As they exchanged stories and knowledge, their hearts connected like magic. To express his gratitude, Malleus invited Y/n to his palace, where she was not only in awe of the magnificent gargoyles but also utterly charmed by Malleus's princely demeanor. It was love at first sight, and their hearts were forever intertwined in a fairy-tale romance.

Malleus and Y/n are proud parents to four lovely daughters. Each girl possesses a unique blend of her parents' traits. The eldest, Aviv, takes after her father's calm and respectful demeanor, often displaying her magical talents with grace. The second daughter, Aurelia, shares her father's yearning for connection with others, and she has a caring and nurturing nature. The third daughter, Aspen, shows signs of Malleus' naive and childish side, bringing joy and laughter to the family. Lastly, the youngest daughter, Arun, is fiercely protective, just like her father, especially when it comes to her sisters.

🦇Lilia Vanrouge

Y/n's dreams came true as she performed on stage with her new metal band. Amidst the electrifying music and energy of the crowd, she noticed a guy in the audience with an infectious smile, singing along to her solo. Their eyes met, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. Feeling a connection like never before, Y/n impulsively took off her bracelet and playfully tossed it to him. With a wink, he caught it, stealing her heart in the process. After the show, Lilia approached Y/n backstage, returning the bracelet with a cheeky smile. However, he had a mischievous request – he wanted a date with the talented and enchanting rockstar Y/n. Flattered and blushing, Y/n happily agreed, and their love story became history.

Lilia and Y/n's family is a harmonious blend of both biological and adoptive children. Their biological son, Goldewin, is playful and friendly like his father, and he loves teasing his brother and friends. Silver, Lilia's adoptive son, has found a loving home and a caring mother figure in Y/n. Together, the family creates a warm and inviting atmosphere, filled with laughter and camaraderie.

💤Silver

Y/n's pet bunny escaped in the park, and she frantically searched for him. Panicking, she searched everywhere until a sweet and gentle boy with shimmering white hair appeared, holding her furry friend in his arms. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Y/n insisted on showing her thanks, but Silver simply smiled and declined any reward. Instead, he expressed that helping her was enough. Impressed by his kindness and adorable airheaded nature, Y/n insisted on repaying his kindness with a cup of tea at her home. As they sipped tea and shared stories, their hearts warmed, and Y/n discovered that Silver was not only a kind soul but also the missing piece to her heart's puzzle.

Silver and Y/n embrace the joys and challenges of raising triplets. Their daughters, Marin and Kathrine, have inherited their father's serious and reserved demeanor, but they also show glimpses of Y/n's thoughtful and caring nature. The youngest son, Kayden, takes after Silver's airheaded moments but has a strong sense of responsibility like his mother. The family shares a deep bond, and Silver is particularly cautious and protective of his children, ensuring their safety with unwavering dedication.

⚡Sebek Zigvolt

Y/n's path crossed with Sebek's in a hilarious mishap. He accidentally tackled her to the ground, assuming she was a threat to his dear Liege Malleus. Though Y/n was perfectly fine, Sebek's genuine concern touched her heart. Amused by his hot-blooded and prideful nature, she reassured him, but he couldn't believe it. From that day on, whenever Y/n had something to do in Briar Valley, she would catch glimpses of Sebek trying to help, with endearing and poor results. To try to make the damage less as possible, Y/n decided to invite him on a tour of the romantic spots in Briar Valley. Sebek was over the moon with excitement, and as they explored together, their hearts raced with laughter and love.

Sebek's household is full of energy and passion with his three children. His son, Kai, is a mirror image of his father, proudly displaying Sebek's traits and taking on the role of the family's protector. His elder daughter, Anaya, has inherited Sebek's loud and prideful nature, while his younger daughter, Poppy, balances it with Y/n's gentle and honest qualities. As a father, Sebek encourages his children to be true to themselves and embraces their individuality. The family's love and respect for each other create a lively and dynamic atmosphere in their home.

You can find the other parts here! Hearstlabyul Savanaclaw/Octavinelle Scarabia/Pomefiore Ignihyde/Diasomnia (You are here)

[turtlesewerbrain]

Hello! Between college and other stuff driving me a bit batty, I’ve finally gained some motivation to do some writing! I’m in the early stages of posting it, but I started a new work on ao3 called “just let the thought of me die”. It’s a Danny Phantom fic with lots of my personal favorite aus, such as: Danny being in a full HAZMAT suit, no one knows about him being a halfa (not even himself for a little while), and so many more. If you’re at all interested, check it out! It’s linked below.

Also, any comments/interactions on here or ao3 are greatly appreciated!

Happy reading!

[hannah-heartstrings]

Local Rule

Some of the Cheydinhal Guards explain an unusual rule to a new recruit.

@druidx @babyblueetbaemonster @inkysqueed

---------

            Stepping out of the barracks and into the dim morning light, Fairwyn crossed the courtyard where Garrus was already talking to a young redguard.

            “You’ll be joining my second in command to patrol the town, to help you get to know Cheydinhal.” Hearing steps, he glanced back. “Ah, here she is now. Fairwyn, this is the new recruit, Atticus.”

            With a wide smile, he saluted her. “I’m at your command, ma’am.”

            “Sir,” Garrus corrected.

            “Sorry, sir,” he looked nervous.

            She remained stoic. “At ease.”

            He dropped his hand.

            “I can take it from here,” she looked to Garrus.

            His voice softened. “Just go easy on him?”

            “I only whip into shape when necessary, sir.”

            “Thank you.”

            She gave a quick smile before he walked away.

            “So,” Atticus looked eager, “where to first?”

            She held up a finger as she watched Garrus disappear down the path.

            He looked confused.

            Marcus slid up beside Fairwyn. “Is he gone?”

            “He’s gone,” she turned back to the recruit who was now scared. “There’s something you’re going to need to know, that they wouldn’t have told you in the Imperial City, a… local rule. It’s important that you know it but also that you don’t tell the captain about it.”

            He raised a brow.

            “There’s a girl who comes around every so often, Lecrinn.”

            “A Hero of Kvatch,” Marcus added.

            “We’ll point her out to you when we see her, but whenever we do see her we have to make sure the captain is off duty.”

            “Wha-” his lips pursed in confusion, “why?”

            Marcus smirked. “Well, she’ll make sure he is either way, it’s easiest if you’re on her side, like how you don’t sail against a storm.”

            “And if we do, he’s less stressed and she closes more Oblivion gates,” she said plainly, Marcus adding, “But mostly we’ve just all gotten attached to the two of them.”

            His gaze shifted from one to the other. “Are you two hazing me?”

            He narrowed his eyes, annoyed. “She won’t let me haze you.”

            “I assure you we are being completely serious; it’ll make sense when you meet her.”

            Atticus looked uneasy at that.

            “I’ll brief you on the procedures later but I wanted you to know about it in case she shows up before I get to.”

            “There…” his worried confusion grew, “are procedures?”

            “Well of course, you can’t just rearrange shifts at random,” she flicked a glance at Marcus, “that’s chaos.”

            “Hey, I had to get him to stop working somehow, and she was right there offering, so.”

            She turned to him with a flat glare. “It was a security risk.”

            “So was he! I thought the man was going to spontaneously combust!”

            “You left the castle gate unguarded for thirty minutes.”

            “Nothing happened.”

            “How would you know?” Her shoulders rose as she leaned towards him. “No one was guarding it!”

            Atticus slowly raised a hand. “Um…”

            They looked at him.

            He waved the hand nervously. “Aren’t we not guarding right now?”

            Straightening, Fairwyn quickly regained her composure. “Technically our shift doesn’t start till the bell rings, which I’d say is in another…” squinting, she glanced up, “7 minutes.”

            Marcus lowered his brows, tone flattening. “She has it all figured out, trust me, you can’t get away with anything with her around.”

            Her lips curled slightly in subtle pride.

            Atticus gave a slow nod, still nervous. “May I ask a question?”

            “Of course,” she said, “I appreciate questions from new recruits.”

            “How has the captain not noticed you’re all doing this?”

            Marcus smirked. “For that he’d have to be able to see anything else when she was around.”

            Fairwyn’s serious demeanor finally broke with a barely held laugh.

[yume-fanfare]

writing comics is quite the exercise in that you have to condense what you want to say because no way im drawing all of that, but still stay in character. other times i end up using the word "really" in three sentences in a row

[orangelemonart]

I’ve never encountered this. I’ve seen people who declare Kishimoto isn’t a misogynist by claiming Sakura/Hinata are strong characters (based entirely on their headcanons/confusing fanfics that make them fuller characters for canon), and I’ve seen people claim Sasuke is the heroine because they confuse being a deuteragonist with being the heroine (because in most American movies the protagonist is a man and the female support/love interest is the deuteragonist), but I personally haven’t seen any overlap between these two communities.

[phaltu]

kind of want to quit socmed just for the sole purpose of making time to lift

[freytful]

I read the “Good omens 2 is bad on purpose” theory and while the author is annoying it does make sense! However I don’t think they’re aware that if it’s true it could only ever be the death/rebirth type set up for an End of Evangelion style “I Hate Every Single One Of You” ending

[wakane-ebonheart]

The Lost Student {JJK AU}

{{Not sure if I want to make this a full fledged fic or not. Tell me what you think. Gojo Satoru comes face to face with a student he thought dead. Death would have been kinder. Can he save both of his students?}}

Gojo walked silently into the lower-level area of Hiroshima Metropolitan Curse Technical College. His hands were in his pockets, but he didn’t walk with usual carefree gait as usual. He walked with purpose and irritation. The past month had been a game of cat and mouse that he had grown overwhelmingly sick of – The random moments of feeling a presence that was familiar but at the same time foreign, stopping to try and pinpoint the feeling no matter where he was to have it just disappear from his “sight”, whispers in his mind begging for help but also telling him to stay away, that oh so familiar voice, the painfully realistic memory-like nightmares. Yes, he was sick of the games. He started to descend the spiral staircase but stopped with a soft sigh.  

“So I was right. I didn’t lose you two in Sendai.”, He said. 

He turned to see Megami and Yuji step around the corner to look at him. His two willful students, both looking at him with curious concern. 

“There’s no way you were going to lose us. We’re worried about you, Sensei.”, Megami said seriously.  

“Yeah, man! Since when do you keep secrets from us?”, Yuji added enthusiastically.  

Gojo sighed softly, his black scarf covered eyes looking at them, a frown on his lips. The two young men looked at each other, then looked at their Teacher, worry in their eyes. Gojo sighed again. 

“Fine. Since you followed me all this way, you can come with me. But once we get to the Crypt, Yuji, you remain outside.”, Gojo said, once more starting to descend the stone spiral staircase.  

Megami and Yuji looked at each other, nodded and then headed after Gojo. They had just moved down ten steps when Yuji’s curiosity got the better of him.  

“Why does this place look abandoned?”, he asked. 

“They sent all of the students away.”, Gojo responded.  

“Why would they do that?”, Megami asked. 

“In anticipation of my arrival.”, Gojo said seriously. 

It was now that Yuji and Megami noticed that their usually goofy, playful Teacher was serious, an air of violent rage hanging around him like fog. They had gone down two hundred steps when Megami first felt the other force. It was powerful and sickening, almost like walking into a building with multiple Cursed Spirits hiding within. He looked down the staircase, the torches on the wall that kept the staircase lit flickering calmly as there was no apparent airflow. He turned to look at Yuji who was behind him, silently walking. He looks up into Megami’s green eyes. He felt it too. Megami could tell because the usually goofy grin on Yuji’s face was gone, his lips pressed into a thin line. Gojo kept following the staircase.  

“You two can wait here if you want.”, he said. 

The emotionless delivery of the words made both of the young men flinch and then shake their heads.  

“No, we’re coming.”, Yuji said.  

Another four hundred steps and they were at the bottom of the staircase. There was a long hallway in front of them, torches lighting the way to what looked like a heavy stone door. Yuji felt sick, his stomach was in a very painful knot and it was hard for him to breathe. Megami just felt very uncomfortable, his skin feeling like there was electricity in the air and causing pins and needles across every inch of his body, the air so heavy he was also having trouble breathing. Gojo turned his cover eyes towards them.  

“This is a far as you both go.”, he said seriously.  

“What....where.....is that?”, Megami asked, pointing with a shaking finger towards the stone door. 

“The Crypt. And he is expecting me.”, Gojo said.  

“....he?”, Yuji wheezed. 

“No matter what happens, don’t come any closer. If the door opens and you are able to see inside, Yuji, run back up the stairs until you are back on the upper level.”, Gojo said, stepping towards the door.  

“Wait! Huh?!”, Yuji asked, unsure if he heard that correctly. 

“He said stay here and run if the door opens and you can see into that Crypt place.”, Megami repeated. 

Yuji rolled his eyes and looked at his friend. 

“I heard him, I just want to know why!”, Yuji retorted.  

Gojo disappeared from where he was and reappeared in front of the door that appeared to be about ten feet away. He placed his hand on the door and pushed one side open, slipping into the room. Once he was inside, an overwhelming feeling of sadness washed over him. He raised his head to see the young girl at the front of this chamber of the Crypt. The Crypt was a multi-chambered underground facility at this Curse Technical College. It usually served as half morgue and half Cursed Item Storage. This entry Chamber had been converted to what looked like a laboratory and altar. Talismans plastered to every walk and surface. Gojo felt his heart clench in his chest as he looked at the young girl.  

She was the same age as Yuji and Megami, fifteen. She hair was a graduated bob, short in the back and gradually getting longer until the hair by her ears hung down to her shoulders. Her swooping bang was pushed back from her face, the deep navy blue stands of her hair soft and clean in the light of the Chamber. Her eyes were closed, only her head was visible as the rest of her body was cocooned in what looked like corpse wrapping. She looked like butterfly in a chrysalis, her head leaning back upon the crucifix she was bound to. Her once milky soft skin was nearly alabaster white now, what looked like talisman kanji tattooed down the skin of her face in tight lines. Talisman kanji also written on the corpse wrapping. Gojo grit his teeth, rage bubbling in his belly like lava. They had told him she was dead, they had told him that he had failed to protect her, her body was supposedly cremated. His very first student and Charge.  

“So, you found us.”, came a voice to Gojo’s right.  

He didn’t turn in that direction, Gojo already knew he was there. A member of the Higher-ups and Faculty Head of this Technical College. Kaji Togata. He was only a couple years older then Gojo but he was proficient in the Alchemy of making Special Grade 1 Cursed Objects to contain other Cursed Objects, it was similar to Yaga’s Cursed Corpse Technique.  

“You knew I would.”, Gojo said seriously.  

Kaji smiled. 

“What do you think of my masterpiece?”, he asked.  

Gojo clenched his hands into tight fists.  

“How long have you been mutilating her body?”, Gojo asked, his voice deep and angry. 

“How long has she been ‘dead’?”, comes the questions. 

Kaji stepped forward, moving towards the inanimate form of the young woman.  

“Shane wasn’t a toy for you to play with! She was a shy, caring young woman who deserved a respectable death.”, Gojo growled. 

Kaji turned to look at Gojo. His mid back length black hair pulled into a tight ponytail behind his head, his violet eyes glowing with malicious glee. His black pants and white shirt hugged his muscular body firmly.  

“Shane Takahashi has transcended being a ‘toy’ as you claim. She feels no pain, she cares for no one and she can’t be frightened. She is no longer the student you failed, Satoru. She has become my greatest creation. A vessel to contain the King of Curse.”, Kaji smiled wide. 

“Yuji Itadori does that just fine!”, Gojo growled louder.  

“Yes, yes, Itadori. He can contain Sukuna but Shane can finally help us be rid of him. As The Sleeper, she can take Sukuna and contain him within her body until we cremate her. Effectively destroying him. Though, if he is too far intertwined with your Yuji, his soul make be taken as well.”, Kaji said. 

Gojo opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.  

“AKERU!”, Kaji shouted the word loudly.  

Shane opened her eyes and Gojo could see the kanji that was tattooed into them and the door to the Crypt opened at the same time. He spun around to see Yuji turn in surprise as the door opened.  

“NO! DON’T LOOK!”, Gojo shouted.  

As Shane’s eyes fell upon Yuji, he was frozen in place, the tattooing that symbolized Ryomen Sukuna’s presence coming forward erupting on his skin in the blink of an eye. An odd, pained noise escaped Yuji as his consciousness was forcibly supressed. Megami turned to move Yuji away but gasped loudly as he was flung to the side with a hard eruption of a Cursed Energy shield, his head slamming into the wall with a loud thud as he fell to the floor, unmoving. 

[mejomonster]

i know we’ve never talked but i saw your tags on the post about writing and i just wanted to say that even if you never finish anything, it’s admirable that you do anything with them at all, and that i hope one day you’ll be able to finish something and experience that joy :)

💜💜💜💜💜💜 ;-; thank you for these words!

I really hope to finish a story first draft by the end of the year, or soon after that. Even if its only a draft and that dumb annoying perfectionist voice pipes up and tries to insist it needs to be scrapped or rewritten or whatever annoying thought, im going to be so excited to have something done at least. A first draft i can point to and be like:wow, wooh! I am holding my own story in my hand and i can forget the plot and still pick it up and read it in a few years and how cool that is! How much it makes my chest ache with warmth!

But also, even if i finish no draft this year, i started at least! I wrote 100,000+ words of original stuff this year so at least the ideas are started, are somewhat put down, are pieces that exist now i can treasure and find later

Thank you again <3

[avaantares]

Fanfiction Authors: HEADS UP

(Non-authors, please RB to signal boost to your author friends!)

An astute reader informed me this morning that one of my fics (Children of the Future Age) had been pirated and was being sold as a novel on Amazon:

(And they weren't even creative with their cover design. If you're going to pirate something that I spent a full year of my life writing, at least give me a pretty screenshot to brag about later. Seriously.)

I promptly filed a DMCA complaint to have it removed, but I checked out the company that put it up -- Plush Books -- and it looks like A LOT of their books are pirated fic. They are by no means the only ones doing this, either -- the fact that """publishers""" can download stories from AO3 in ebook format and then reupload them to Amazon in just a few clicks makes fic piracy a common problem. There are a whole host of reasons why letting this continue is bad -- including actual legal risk to fanfiction archives -- but basically:

IF YOU ARE A FANFIC AUTHOR WITH LONG AND/OR POPULAR WORKS, PLEASE CHECK AMAZON TO SEE IF YOUR STORIES HAVE BEEN PIRATED.

You can search for your fics by title, or by text from the description (which is often just copied wholesale from AO3 as well). If you find that someone has stolen your work and is selling it as their own, you can lodge a DMCA complaint (Amazon.com/USA site; other countries have different systems). If you haven't done this before, it's easy! Here's a tutorial:

HOW TO FILE A COPYRIGHT COMPLAINT FOR STOLEN WORK ON AMAZON.COM:

First, go to this form. You'll need to be signed into your Amazon account.

Select the radio buttons/dropdown options (shown below) to indicate that you are the legal Rights Owner, you have a copyright concern, and it is about a pirated product.

Enter the name of your story in the Name of Brand field.

In the Link to the Copyrighted Work box, enter a link to the story on AO3 or whatever site your work is posted on.

In the Additional Information box, explain that you are the author of the work and it is being sold without your permission. That's all you really need. If you want, you can include additional information that might be helpful in establishing the validity of your claim, but you don't have to go into great detail. You can simply write something like this:

I am the author of this work, which is being sold by [publisher] without my permission. I originally published this story in [date/year] on [name of site], and have provided a link to the original above. On request, I can provide documentation proving that I am the owner of the account that originally posted this story.

In the ASIN/ISBN-10 field, copy and paste the ID number from the pirated copy's URL. You'll find this ten-digit number in the Amazon URL after the word "product," as in the screenshot below. (If the URL extends beyond this number, you can ignore everything from the question mark on.) Once this number has been added, Amazon will pull the product information automatically and add it to the complaint form, so you can check the listing title and make sure it's correct.

Finally, add your contact information to the relevant fields, check the "I have read and accept the statements" box, and then click Submit. You should receive an email confirmation that Amazon has received the form.

Please share this information with your writer friends, keep an eye out for/report pirated works, and help us keep fanfiction free and legally protected!

NOTE: All of the above also applies to Amazon products featuring stolen artwork, etc., so fan artists should check too!

[coolauntlilith]

.

[nutelloona]

some nights I really wish my front door wasn't so fucking loud to open/close bc as much as I feel trapped and suffocated in my room on night like these, - and in my house in general, tiny apartments and all that crap that capitalism keeps blessing us with - dealing with questions or concern from my siblings is one of the most unbearable consequences I can picture

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC X DP Fanfic idea: It's all Fun and Games Kids!

Danny Fenton moves to Gotham.

He moved there not because his parents ran him out of the house. His dad was bawling and begging him to stay while his mother spent three full days writing up different graphs to show how much safer was by nearing by so they could protect him.

(It's not like he still lived with them. Danny had moved out to his own place in amity when he was twenty-five. Moving clear across state lines wasn't much of a difference in his eyes)

He moved there, not because the ectoplasm was high. Ectoplasm is everywhere on Earth, and quite frankly, Gotham's was as polluted as its water was. It made the air spicy.

He moved there not because he was offered an amazing job or a life-changing opportunity. Danny's full-time job was writing novels. They were all based on his adventures in the Ghost Zone -with changed names of course- and were a hit online. He also had all of the Ghost King's gold.

He moved there simply because Danny wanted to.

Something about the city called to him, in a way that said "Hey this could be your home." He visited once for a Humpty Dumpty concert and fell in love with the sights, the people, and the life of Gotham.

Now some people would accuse him of being mad. Those people probably had a rebellious teenage stage where they had done crazy things like sneak out of the house, underage drink, sleeping around, or smoke something.

Danny, when he was a teenager, was fighting for his life and the lives of the ungrateful townspeople.

He didn't get to his rebellious stage. He didn't get his rush of doing something stupid because he was young and thought himself bigger than life.

So here Danny is, living his life as he pleases to make up for it.

He doesn't have to sneak out of his house since he owns it, he rather not drink or smoke (would they even affect him? His healing factor has never been tested against it) and Danny would like to be emotionally attached if he decided to sleep with someone.

What then does a man with too much time, too much power, and not enough bad young person decisions do?

He flirts with Death.

Death just so happens to be Batman-shaped.

Now it's all fun and games. He knows he doesn't have a real chance with Batman- it's Batman. Way out of Danny's league.- but that doesn't mean he can allow himself to fall into stupid situations and be dramatically rescued by the crime fighter.

Now if only his kids weren't so good at their jobs.

"You really should be more careful, Mr. Fenton. This is the third time this week" Nightwing says while untieing him. Danny does his best not to pout at the other. He had been having fun finding the answers to the riddles.

He wasn't at all worried about the fact he was placed over a pool of burning chemicals. He had been tried to a chair that was carefully balanced on overlapping ropes. It wire would snap with each correct answer, until he would fall his demise unless they could outsmart the Riddler.

Danny had gotten five out of ten correct before Nightwing burst through the ceiling.

"I don't mind," Danny says rubbing his wrists. "Better me than someone innocent."

Nightwing's lips purse "You are innocent."

"Yes, but I hardly matter in the grand scheme of things." Danny waves his hand missing the look of distress on the hero's face. He looks around the darkness of the ceiling hoping to spot a certain crouching figure.

"Is Tall Dark and Daddy here with you?" He asks Nightwing when he fails to see him.

"Please don't call him that."

Danny shrugs, suppressing his smile. He twirls back around to Nightwing pulling out a piece of paper from his jean's pocket. "By the way, I found the other victims, hid them in the cellar, and drew a of map of Riddle's bombs for you. You're welcome."

Nightwing stares before carefully taking the map. He taps his ear twice, muttering in a code- for that may be English but sounded like gibberish that it can not be anything else but code- and only after he hears a voice respond back does the hero give a strained smile. "Thank you, Mr. Fenton. This helps a lot."

"You're welcome!" He repeats with a bright smile. It's so odd for his efforts to be appreciated. Odd but nice.

Danny waits for the other to do his Bat-trained disappearing act- sometimes he wonders if Gotham gave her Knights a form of invisibility- but the man remains.

He shuffles his feet uncomfortable and Danny's eyes light up. Oh! Another attempt to get him to stop flirting with his father. What fun~!

"Mr. Fenton.....last week Red Robin rescued you from the Joker. Do you remember?"

"Yes. Red Robin is a great kid."

"A kid....weird for you to call him that when he's only a few years younger than you." Nightwing starts but Danny holds up a hand.

"I'm older than you"

There is a tight frown on the other man's face now. "You are not."

"I am." Danny pulls out his wallet flashing his ID card. The downside to his Ghostly powers is that he seems to be aging at a slower rate- at least physically. His parents theorized that he would take two years instead of the one that his aging required. Not an accurate number but the closest they had especially since both his parents were late bloomers and had baby face.

While Danny might be thirty-eight he appeared to be no older than nineteen.

"Mr. Fenton I don't think you should be carrying a fake-"

"Stay away from my father Harlot!" Robin screeches falling down from the shadows above. He points a very sharp sword at Danny's neck, sneering the whole time. "He has better things to do than rescue a love-struck worthless fool!"

Danny, leans on the top of the sword, eyes drinking into Robin's slight flinch when it cuts his skin a little. This is it. The Rush he had been craving for.

"I don't mean to be kidnapped Robin honest. It just sort of happens in Gotham." He makes his voice and body innocent in a way even Orphan can not tell he is lying. He knows because Clockwork confirmed the last time they met that the girl read his body language just as he wanted her to.

The two ghosts met up regularly to watch his overly "sweet" eyes fluttering and cheerful "Oh Batman you rescued me~!" performances together for a good laugh.

"You lie! You plan for this to happen to try and seduce my Father!"

Huh. The kid was smarter then his foul mouth and snobby behavior looked. Still Danny only had to twist his face into confusion for Nightwing to step in. The other vigilantes pulled the scowling child away, scolding him for harassing frightened civilians.

It was fun to see but nothing beat making polite come-ons to Batman- nothing gross like catcalling but more of overly thankful and dreamy sighs. Maybe he should see what Two-face is up to?

Surely the man would take him hostage and Batman's many children would be too busy to save him thus leading the Dark Knight himself to come to his aid.

Or in a world where Danny Fenton decides that it would be hilarious if he took on a Brucie Wayne persona in Gotham. Complete with a Heart-eyes-it's-beefy-Batman mentality that tricks the Batfam into thinking he is a Himbo who has bad luck for always getting caught up in villain schemes for being at the wrong place and wrong time.

Also, the Bat kids make it their life goal to keep Bruce from rescuing Danny since they do not like watching Fenton flirt with their dad. Even if Bruce himself ignores the boy they can't really threaten him.

Danny Fenton isn't being malicious or anything. He's just a boy with a crush who doesn't know better.

Clockwork is cackling, recording his favorite parts of Danny's interactions with the Bats.

[spainkitty]

A Very Stupid Book

Lanil's Pieces Masterlist

She was restless. Restless. Dagna was tinkering away with Maddox's tools, and probably scaring the life out of Herrit. Hawke was searching for Stroud somewhere. Corypheus was lying suspiciously low. Everyone was in this horrible stretch of stasis.

What was going to come next? When was it coming? Why wasn't it here already?

Or maybe it was just her. Maybe everyone else was perfectly sane and enjoying the respite.

There was still work that could be done in Emprise du Lion. Maybe she could take the time to finally go check out that strange Oasis in the far west... But Hawke said Stroud was definitely in Ferelden. The Oasis was much too far away to go to because she felt antsy.

She walked the battlements several times and checked on the infirmary courtyard renovations. Somehow, her feet kept leading her towards Cullen's office. Where he was working. She couldn't go tease or bother him while he was working. Especially since it... she... felt different. She still hadn't figured out what it was, what the earth shifting under her or look on his face meant. Until she did, she'd keep her feet on solid ground and...

and

drive herself insane apparently.

She threw her hands up and left the walls before she ended up in Cullen's office anyway. Herald's Rest was an obvious choice. She liked spending time with the Iron Bull. But... She didn't want to go anywhere near alcohol after the maraas-lok debacle. Maybe Iron Bull was at that training corner? He, Krem, and Cassandra often sparred there. 

Lavellan wandered around the the other side of the Rest. It was immediately, unfortunately, obvious Bull wasn't out there. It didn't even seem like Cassandra was. With the vague idea of heading to the garden to pry some information out of Morrigan, an exercise in futility if there ever was, Lavellan made to turn away. And then paused. Took another closer look.

Cassandra was there. She was sitting on a bench that Lavellan had never noticed there before, and was curled over something on her lap. Lavellan sidled closer to lean in without blocking the light Cassandra was using to... read a book. Cassandra was reading a book. And was so engrossed in it, she didn't so much as flinch when Lavellan leaned in even closer to squint at the print.

"What's that, Cassandra?" Lavellan finally asked.

She was expecting some reaction, but nothing so violent. Cassandra all but fell off the bench, eyes wide and horrified, flailing--Cassandra flailed!-- as she tried to hide the book behind her.

"Nothing! I mean, it's just a book."

"..." Lavellan stared at her. "I... saw it was a book. Why are you hiding it?" Lavellan craned around her, and Cassandra...

Cassandra threw the book away.

"What in the world...?" Lavellan blurted, eyebrows high. Cassandra's eyes darted everywhere but at her.

"It's nothing. It's of no interest to you, I'm certain."

Lavellan stared at her. "Maybe not before you threw it across the yard. Now I'm very interested."

"I didn't throw it that far," Cassandra said defensively. Lavellan slowly began to smirk. Cassandra sighed and walked over to pick it back up, carefully dusting it clean. "It's one of Varric's tales. Swords & Shields, the latest chapter."

"Varric's? You're a fan of his books!?" Lavellan grinned and reached for it. Cassandra pulled the book away again.

"Why are you saving her, but I had to suffer through that horrid trash?" Dorian asked as he walked by. "I actually feel dumber after reading that last one she gave me. Don't let her fool you, that's her favorite."

"I've read Varric's books before. What I've read is really good," Lavellan said with a frown.

"Yes, those books have standards. His smutty romances do not," Dorian said with a smirk.

"Oh, it's one of those!" Lavellan snorted loudly and quickly pressed her fist to her mouth.

"No one asked you, Tevinter. It's literature!" Cassandra snapped at Dorian. Almost immediately, she backed down and shook her head. "Smutty literature. Whatever you do, don't tell Varric!"

"I should read it. It sounds interesting," Lavellan joked, reaching for it again.

"No! No, you can't!" Cassandra gasped, absolutely aghast at the very idea. Lavellana froze, glanced to Dorian, whom shrugged with a too-wide smirk. "You're the... the Inquisitor. You shouldn't read such things."

"What?" Lavellan huffed incredulously as Dorian burst into laughter.

"They're terrible. And magnificent. And this one ends in a cliffhanger. Varric has to be writing the next one, he must be. You!" Lavellen startled under Cassandra's almost pleading gaze. "You could ask him to finish it, command him to..."

Cassandra trailed off as Lavellan gaped at her like a fish out of water. She hadn't just implied Lavellan should command Varric to finish a book? No, that wasn't even an implication, she said 'command'! As Cassandra's expression began to shutter into her customary scowl, Lavellan began to grin.

"Pretend you don't know this about me," she ordered, turning away without another word.

Lavellen slowly met Dorian's equally bemused and incredulously grinning face.

"I only came to speak with Morris about the mages' woefully outdated equipment, and I received so much more," Dorian said in a voice cracking with repressed laughter.

"There's only one thing to do now," Lavellan agreed. She grinned crookedly, and without hesitation, jogged for Skyhold's entrance, Dorian right behind her.

Lavellan never thought anything could flabbergast Varric. He took to demons and Breaches and fake archdemons with easy wisecracks and a flair for irony. But the moment Lavellan said 'Cassandra is waiting for the next Swords & Shields', he actually stumbled. Asked repeatedly to make sure he heard correctly, slowly growing more and more amused as Lavellan and Dorian convinced him they weren't lying. That, in fact, his biggest fan was right outside.

"So... you want me to finish writing the next chapter of my worst serial. For Cassandra." Varric smirked and shook his head. "Oh, that's such a terrible idea. I have to do it. On one condition, I have to be there when you give it to her."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Dorian replied.

"It's a deal," Lavellan quickly agreed.

Varric chuckled, still shaking his head. "All right. I better get to work. Give me until dinner."

"That fast?" Lavellan blurted. Varric shrugged and walked away.

"I did tell you they are terrible, right?" Dorian reminded her.

"Do you still have the ones she lent you?"

Dorian blinked rapidly and then laughed. "Yes, of course. Please, take them away before people see them and think they're mine." Lavellan grinned.

...

Later that evening, Lavellan sat cross-legged on her bed and set the borrowed serials on her lap. Cassandra's embarrassed antics and Varric's smug enjoyment of it all was fresh in her mind. She'd never seen Cassandra so flustered and... and normal. Like a person with real guilty pleasures instead of an honorable, too blunt Seeker. It had been nice to see that side of her. And be able to laugh with Dorian about it. Hopefully Cassandra and Varric would be better friends after all this, too. To be fair, their bickering was already more entertainment than uncomfortable these days.

Now, at last, Lavellan let herself get drawn into Varric's romance serial. She needed to see for herself what Cassandra hadn't wanted her to read.

It was... truly atrocious. Half the time she laughed when she was pretty sure she was supposed to cry. Or sigh and bat her eyelashes or something. Swoon, maybe? Varric was a good writer; the content was horrendous, but his writing was addictive. The characters were so real, the action fast and gripping, the dialogue as quippy as the author himself. But the romance was absolute drivel. And the smut...

That's not how that works... right?

Lavellan tilted her head and tried to picture it. Where where her legs at? Did he have three arms? She rolled her eyes and skimmed through those pages quickly after just a few paragraphs. Surely sex didn't last that long, why were there so many pages devoted to smut? Get it over with already.

Snorting and impatient, she found the end of it, eager to see what happened to the main characters after the sex. She got a few kisses in with Solas and that... Her fingers clenched around the book. Even thinking the words aloud in her own head was impossible. Anyway, she ran from it, from him, as fast as possible.

So, what was supposed to happen after? She all but devoured the next few pages. Only to stop short, heart pounding painfully against her ribs as she read it again.

Oh.

Oh.

Her pulse quickened and she touched the paragraph. Followed the lines with her fingertips. That was actually... nice. Just lying next to each other? Waking up together? Turning and seeing the person you've loved and wanted and yearned for right next to you and then they smile? That was. That was sweet. And so simple.

The man kept touching the woman's hair. Curling it around his fingers. Lavellan reached up and tugged at a strand of her own hair. It wasn't very curl-able. Too short and thick and spiky. Would she like someone to touch her like that? What if she touched someone like that?

She snorted and snapped the book closed. Stupid. She had, hadn't she? She'd woken up next to the Solas just a few weeks ago. It had been nice, but she hadn't been all swoony. Hadn't been yearning. It had been nice and comfortable and she hadn't been alone. All perfectly reasonable things to feel when you wake up next to someone you like.

Lavellan tossed the book to the ground and flopped back on the bed. Why was she so disappointed? Did she want to swoon?

She grimaced.

No. Definitely not. Swooning is bad.

What about the yearning part?

Lavellan closed her eyes. Did she want to want someone like that? To constantly want to seek them out? To touch them any way she possibly could? Smile when they smiled? Did she want to wake up and see the same person beside her, for him touch her hair and say good morning as if she made his morning good?

What would his hair feel like curled around her finger? Would he still blush? He was probably really comfortable to lay on, too, if he'd take off the damm armor. What would it feel like to fall asleep next to him and wake up holding his hand--

Wait. She'd had this thought before. About the same damn person. Why was her hypothetical person suddenly a real person??

Lavellan jerked upright.

Was she already... yearning and she... hadn't even noticed!?!

She got to her feet, gnawed at her thumbnail, and began to pace. Back and forth, back and forth, footsteps faster and faster.

The teasing--No, she flirted with and teased Dorian and Cassandra and Varric and--that didn't mean anything. So what if she liked to make him blush. It was a game.

The chess games. If she was perfectly honest... she kind of hated chess. But she kept playing the stupid game. And she only played it with Cullen. Dorian had offered once and she waved him off, suggested going for a ride instead. It didn't mean anything. She liked talking to Cullen. He liked playing chess. So they talked and played chess.

She liked making him smile. She liked making him blush. Void take it, she even liked fighting with him, just a little. He lost his cool and in control composure, and she liked poking at his edges.

She'd liked dancing with him. She had thought it was because it had been fun. After that horrible, shitty, no good beast of a ball, dancing with Cullen had been fun. Easy. He'd made her smile and laugh and believe in herself again. He'd even held her like that, spun her like he had his sister, shared those memories with her... She liked it. She'd liked all of it. If he asked her to dance in the middle of Skyhold's courtyard, she'd probably say yes. Definitely. She'd definitely say yes.

She glanced down at Varric's book.

Then, she closed her eyes, palms sweaty, whole body too hot. Imagine it. Just imagine Cullen there. And yourself there. Imagine reaching out to touch his hair, making it curl around your finger, and then he wakes up. And he smiles and he says good morning and... what did the man in the book do? Oh, he kissed the woman's hair, that was weird, and wouldn't work... But your hand is there, so Cullen could hold your hand again, and... what if Cullen kissed your hand?

Lavellan pressed her hand over her mouth, eyes suddenly too wide.

"Oh. Oh no. I really... Fenedhis! No. No, you idiot. This is stupid, so stupid. He's the Commander, you're the Inquisitor. You're a mage! A Dalish mage! He's a human man from Honnleath. And ex-templar who... who couldn't--!"

She turned and glared at the book. With an angry snarl, she blasted it with fire. Stupid damn book. Giving her stupid ideas.

He couldn't want that with her. Not after everything he'd been through. Even if they could get past their roles, their different backgrounds, she'd always be a mage.

But... he respects you, doesn't he? He tries his best to understand. He agrees with almost every call you make. He doesn't flinch, he's never flinched, even knowing what you're capable of. He's listened to your advice about dealing with the mages, and you've listened to his.

He held your hand. Kept his arm tight around you during that dance.

"Well, this is still stupid!" She tipped her head back to glare at the ceiling. "I won't get anywhere on my own."

She turned towards the window. It was mostly dark, the sunset barely a line of dark rose. Most of the sky was star-studded black velvet. But it wasn't exactly late. Lavellan went for her boots, dumped her ewer out over the still smoldering book, and headed down for the door. Unlike the last time she went on a mission to Cullen's office, this time she headed outside. She didn't need any distractions.

While she wasn't exactly running, she was moving fast enough up the stairs to lose her breath. At least, she hoped that's why she was losing her breath. Swooning was not going to happen. So figure it out, lungs. She skidded over stone, too aware of every pulse point in her body and how they pounded, and stared at Cullen's door. Just go in. Say 'I like you, I want to sleep with you, would you ever sleep with a mage? '

Wait, no. That's a horrible idea. Terrible wording. See, Dorian, Varric, I can notice innuendo.

"I like you" is a good start. She'd said that before. He'd also said it back. But it had been in a friend way. How to differentiate...? Fond of you? Ugh, no. You're special to me? Ugh, worse. She bit her thumbnail and began to pace.

I... care? I care about you. That's clear. That's good! I care about you. Could you ever care about a mage? No, wait, could you ever feel that way about me? Even though I'm a mage? Is that accusatory?

"Fenedhis lasa, I'm winging it. We'll see what happens."

She burst into Cullen's office. He startled so badly the cup he was holding rattled and liquid splashed all over his hands and desk. "Wha-What?"

"Was it hot?! I can fix it!" She raised her hand.

"No, no. I don't need a desk covered in ice," Cullen said quickly, half-rising out of his seat. "It wasn't hot, anyway. I forgot to drink it."

"I don't do ice well, actually," Lavellan said, slowly lowering her hand. "So you were going to drink cold...?"

"Tea. It was tea." They both glanced at the puddle dripping onto the floor. "Emphasis on was."

"Shit."

"It doesn't matter. It's terrible cold. Are you all right?" He scooted the cup aside and got to his feet, shaking the wet off his gloves. "You burst in like there was an emergency."

"No. Not an emergency. Just..." She sighed. "Let me help."

"Help?"

"Quick dry. Lucky for you, I'm a mage." She smiled awkwardly and wriggled her fingers.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You lived in Circles for years, didn't you see them use their magic for all kinds of things before... you know... boom?" She winced and held her hand out over the puddle. It barely took any energy at all to heat the air until it shimmered and the liquid began to evaporate. "The trick is to know when to stop. You don't want the desk or the papers to catch fire."

"We weren't encouraged to fraternize. Magic like this... I wouldn't have even noticed."

"Not big or flashy enough?" She shook her hand out with a hiss. Hot air could burn just as much as fire. "I knew someone that could pick the puddle right off the ground and..." She stopped, shook her head. "And something. I remember the puddle rising. She pulled it right out of his robes, so no one would see he was wet...?"

"Lane?" His hand touched her arm.

"What? Did... Did you say something?" She shook her head again and glanced at the desk. "I can do the floor. It'll just be a second."

"It's stone. It'll live. Look at me, Lavellan." He lowered his head to meet her gaze, slowly straightening as she looked up. The expression on his face was so concerned and just as gentle as his hand on her arm. It made her pulse race all over again. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine." She grinned crookedly. "Kinda upset my own plans, but I'll live."

"Plans?"

Lavellan shuffled in place. Damn it, she felt shy. "Can we talk? For a minute?"

Cullen leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. "Of course. Anything you need."

"Maybe, um, outside? We could take a walk? Alone."

"A walk? Alone?" He frowned slightly, eyes darting over her face. Then, he suddenly glanced away with hand over his mouth. "Alone?"

It was probably written in giant yellow paint across her face. She looked anywhere but directly at him, heart thudding in her throat.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's... go." She turned on her heel and marched right back out. Luckily, he followed.

They walked for a while in awkward silence. Lavellan got lost in her head, writing a script, disregarding a script, writing another one. She let her hand ghost over the stone wall, felt the wind from the snowy peaks brush across her face, and inhaled. Exhaled.

"Nice night?"

"Huh, what?" She jerked around. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his feet. "Did you say something?"

"Uh no, not really--it's... nothing." He sighed and looked back towards his office.  A pair of guards walked by, saluted, and continued past on their round.

Oh no. He was going go. She was being an idiot, of course he was going to go. As if in slow motion, she saw his mouth open. And she had to say it now. The door behind those guards closed. Right now.

"Cullen! I--" It lodged something in her chest. A too heavy rock. What if he... what if he didn't... It would hurt. This would hurt a lot. But he was looking at her and it could be her only chance. Indomitable will, her ass. She was a giant chicken. "I care about you."

She said it. She actually said it.

He stood there, his hand slowly falling from his nape, eyes wide and too dark to read in the dim starlight.

"I care about you and I need to know if you could... if you could ever care about someone like me. A mage. After all you've been through, could you think about me the same way?"

It hung there. Finally outside her. And she meant it. These were the right words, the words she'd felt in Halamshiral. The ones she hadn't understood. She cared about him. She cared about him so much that the idea of him saying no, that she was a mage and it was too much, hurt. It hurt so much she wanted to stop him from talking. She was actually scared.

"Lavellan... Lane," her heart leapt from her toes to her mouth, "Of course I could. Do. I do care about you, and think about... what I would say in this situation."

Lavellan smiled, wide and shocked, only for the smile to crack and fall when Cullen wouldn't look at her. Actually sighed again under his breath as he turned away.

"Cullen? What is it?" Slowly, as if she were approaching a spooked horse, she set her hand on his arm.

"You're the Inquisitor," Lavellan barely kept from grimacing; that was the second time she heard that in a single day, "we're at war, and you... I didn't think it was possible."

She blinked. That... that wasn't how Cassandra had said it, or how she implied it. He sounded... confused. And soft. Something similar to disbelief. Disbelief that she could say or feel anything like that when the world was on the verge of falling apart.

"I don't think war stops feelings like that. Like this. Though, I don't know what I'm saying because I've never been at war or had these feelings before, or I don't remember it, so--but. It's not. Impossible." Lavellan didn't even know what words were coming out of her mouth now. He was looking at her finally. And when she stepped closer, he stepped closer, too. "I'm right here, with you."

"So you are." He was closer, his head dipped lower, and she rocked forward onto the balls on her feet. "It seems too much to ask, and yet I want to--"

A door creaked open the same moment her eyes lowered to his mouth.

"Commander," they broke apart and Cullen tipped his head back to glare upwards, "you wanted a copy of Sister Leliana's report," said the assistant that Lavellan had seen with Cullen too many times to count.

She really needed to learn his name. If only so she could curse him in her head properly. She leaned back against the wall and stared at her feet, disappointment cutting all the tension in her, like a knife cutting strings. It had been so close. Now he'd scrape together all his honorable objections and common sense and she'd never get another--

"What."

Her eyebrows raised at the sheer annoyance in that single syllable. Perhaps he'd been spending too much time around her, because he sounded like he was about to start throwing lightning with the power of his annoyance and will alone.

"Sister Leliana's report...? You said you wanted it delivered without delay?"

There was a long, heavy silence. Lavellan stared off in the oppsite direction, gnawing on her thumbnail, too deeply humiliated and frustrated to dare glance over to see what the silence was. She could just... slip away. There was a door right over there where those guards had gone. Of course this would happen. That stupid book.

"Or... to your office... of course. I'll... right away." Boots on stone hurried away. A door closed.

Surprisingly, Cullen was coming back towards her. Probably to apologize. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. She glanced up and then away, pushing off the stone wall.

"If you have to--"

She didn't even recognize the sound she made; so soft and surprised and shy. One hand was cupping the nape of her neck, a thumb pressed to her pulse, the other on her hip. And...

Was he kissing her?

He was, without a word or warning, kissing her like someone was about to come through another door and stop him. Which might actually happen. She pushed up onto her toes and grabbed handfuls of fur. Kissed back with all the fervent urgency inside her. It felt like she'd been waiting months for this, for him, for his lips on hers and his hands, warm even through his gloves, on her. Despite her tight-clenched fists in his cloak, he pulled away with a quiet gasp and she dropped to her heels, befuddled and blinking.

"I'm sorry, that was... that was very nice."

She blinked again and frowned slightly. "Why are you sorry? That was what I wanted."

"Oh." He carefully cupped her face, his thumbs stroking along the line of her cheekbone and vallaslin. The smile that she liked best, that was almost a smirk, slowly grew across his face. "Good."

The same time he leaned in, she tugged him down. Both hands stroked down her back to wrap completely around her. She arched into him, as pleased as a cat, and finally buried a hand in his hair, the other still holding onto his fur ruff as she balanced on her toes. His hair really did curl around her fingers and she couldn’t stop the grin that broke the kiss.

"What?" he asked, while smiling himself. She felt it against her lips.

There it was. That Moment again. Like Halamshiral and coming back from the Shrine. Everything suddenly felt right. Slotted into place like a sword fitted for a sheath. This was where her feet were meant to land. Her heart beat was too loud and too fast, her skin too hot and too taut, and his smile tasted like tea and elfroot tonic.

She shook her head, running her hand through his hair and meeting his eyes through shadows and flickering torchlight. "This is perfect."

The next kiss was, too.

[foone]

Look if there's one thing, just one thing, that I wish everyone understood about archiving, it's this:

We can always decide later that we don't need something we archived.

Like, if we archive a website that's full of THE WORST STUFF, like it turns out it's borderline illegal bot-made spam art, we can delete it. Gone.

We can also chose not to curate. You can make a list of the 100 Best Fanfic and just quietly not link to or mention the 20,000 RPFs of bigoted youtubers eating each other. No problem!

We can also make things not publicly available. This happens surprisingly often: like, sometimes there'll be a YouTube channel of alt-right bigotry that gets taken down by YouTube, but someone gives a copy to the internet archive, and they don't make it publicly available. Because it might be useful for researchers, and eventually historians, it's kept. But putting it online for everyone to see? That's just be propaganda for their bigotry. So it's hidden, for now. You can ask to see it, but you need a reason.

And we can say all these things, we can chose to delete it later, we can not curate it, we can hide it from public view... But we only have these options BECAUSE we archived it.

If we didn't archive it, we have no options. It is gone. I'm focusing on the negative here, but think about the positive side:

What if it turns out something we thought was junk turns out to be amazing new art?

What if something we thought of as pointless and not worth curating turns out to be influential?

What if something turns out to be of vital historical importance, the key that is used to solve a great mystery, the Rosetta stone for an era?

All of those things are great... If we archived it when we could.

Because this is an asymmetric problem:

If we archived it and it turns out it's not useful, we can delete.

If we didn't archive it and it turns out it is useful, OOPS!

You can't unlose something that's been lost. It's gone. This is a one way trip, it's already fallen off the cliff. Your only hope is that you're wrong about it being lost, and there is actually still a copy somewhere. If it's truly lost, your only option is to build a time machine.

And this has happened! There are things lost, so many of them that we know of, and many more we don't know of. There are BOOKS OF THE BIBLE referenced in the canon that simply do not exist anymore. Like, Paul says to go read his letter to the Laodiceans, and what did that letter say? We don't know. It's gone.

The most celebrated playwright in the English tradition has plays that are just gone. You want to perform or watch Love's Labours Won? TOO FUCKING BAD.

Want to watch Lon Cheyney's London After Midnight, a mystery-horror silent film from 1927? TOO BAD. The MGM vault burnt down in 1965 and the last known copy went up in smoke.

If something still exists, if it still is kept somewhere, there is always an opportunity to decide if it's worthy of being remembered. It can still be recognized for its merits, for its impact, for its importance, or just what it says about the time and culture and people who made it, and what they believed and thought and did. It can still be a useful part of history, even if we decide it's a horrible thing, a bigoted mess, a terrible piece of art. We have the opportunity to do all that.

If it's lost... We are out of options. All we can do is research it from how it affected other things. There's a lot of great books and plays and films and shows that we only know of because other contemporary sources talked about them so much. We're trying to figure out what it was and what it did, from tracing the shadow it cast on the rest of culture.

This is why archivists get anxious whenever people say "this thing is bad and should not be preserved". Because, yeah, maybe they're right. Maybe we'll look back and decide "yeah, that is worthless and we shouldn't waste the hard drive or warehouse space on it".

But if they're wrong, and we listen to them, and don't archive... We don't get a second chance at this. And archivists have been bitten too many times by talk of "we don't need copies, the original studio has the masters!" (it burnt down), or "this isn't worth preserving, it's just some damn silly fad" (the fad turned out to be the first steps of a cultural revolution), or "this media is degenerate/illegal/immoral" (it turns out those saying that were bigots and history doesn't agree with their assessment).

So we archive what we can. We can always decide later if it doesn't need preserving. And being a responsible archivist often means preserving things but not making them publicly available, or being selective in what you archive (I back up a lot of old computer hard drives. Often they have personal photos and emails and banking information! That doesn't get saved).

But it's not really a good idea to be making quality or moral judgements of what you archive. Because maybe you're right, maybe a decade or two later you'll decide this didn't need to be saved. And you'll have the freedom to make that choice. But if you didn't archive it, and decide a decade later you were wrong... It's just gone now. You failed.

Because at the end of the day I'd rather look at an archive and see it includes 10,000 things I think are worthless trash, than look at an archive of on the "best things" and know that there are some things that simply cannot be included. Maybe they were better, but can't be considered as one of the best... Because they're just gone. No one has read them, no one has been able to read them.

We have a long history of losing things. The least we can do going forward is to try and avoid losing more. And leave it up to history to decide if what we saved was worth it.

My dream is for a future where critics can look at stuff made in the present and go "all of this was shit. Useless, badly made, bigoted, horrible. Don't waste your time on it!"

Because that's infinitely better than the future where all they can do is go "we don't know of this was any good... It was probably important? We just don't know. It's gone. And it's never coming back"