#Metal & Beer Fest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovebugism · 9 months

Note

“guys come on, let’s take advantage of this. we can have fun!” Sneak into the Hawkins community pool with Steve?

thanks for your request, angel!! — the one where steve convinces his nervous, ditzy gf (and the rest of the gang) to sneak into hawkins community pool (1.9k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The golden hour was swept away by a sudden summer storm.

Eddie Munson’s van was your only source of refuge from the downpour, parked slightly askew at the edge of the clearing. Steve grabbed your hand just as quickly as he snatched the case of beer you’d all been getting drunk on, rushing you both to safety in the back of the old Chevrolet.

With a gentle hand, he blotted water droplets from your face with a spare towel Eddie had stashed away.

The wild cadence of the evening rain sang pretty songs against the rusted metal roof. Your Stevie held you all the while. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to press you into his side while his long legs fought with Robin’s shorter ones for more room.

You giggled quietly to yourself as they kicked at one another — neither of them needing as much space as they were battling for.

Summer rain clung to your clothes and turned you cold. Your cropped tee and pleated skirt did little to aid your dwindling temperature. You curled into Steve’s side when goosebumps prickled your skin. The boy so often radiated warmth — your very own space heater — and his vanilla-rose cologne engulfed you with its musk.

The familiar scent of him contrasted heavily with the boyish scent of Eddie’s van: woodsy perfume, teenage boy, and the skunk weed you’d been smoking before the rain came in.

When the deluge faded to a soft sprinkle, the wild-haired boy decided to drive you all home. Steve, being halfway drunk and not all there, told him to pull into the empty Hawkins Community Pool parking lot. The gloomy weather and heavy clouds reduced the bustling spot to a barren patch of concrete.

“Guys, come on!” Steve pressed with a boyish chuckle when his idea was met with a chorus of groans. “Let’s take advantage of this! We can have fun!”

You couldn’t say no to Steve. Robin couldn’t, either.

Nancy followed behind you, and Eddie refused to be left behind — so against your better judgment, all of you ended up trudging behind Steve toward the entrance.

“Okay, but like… what’s the point?” Robin monotones from where she lags behind the rest of the group. Her oversized tee and baggy ripped jeans billow in the soft summer breeze. “Like, if you wanna swim, why don’t we just go to your place? You literally have a pool.”

“It’s the principle, Robin! It’s not nearly as fun!” Steve argues in response, leading the pack of you with his fingers entwined with yours. He clutches the abandoned case of beer with his free hand. You cling desperately to his arm while your legs try to keep up with his longer strides.

The sandy brunette girl scoffs. “Why? Because there’s no threat of us getting arrested for breaking and entering?”

“Exactly!”

You slow when you reach the front gate. The rusted padlock is twisted between the entrance but left unlatched — likely forgotten in the haste of escaping the violent storm.

You squint and tilt your head to the side. “Is it technically breaking and entering if there’s no breaking?” you wonder aloud.

Steve laughs, boyish and airy — the exact sound of sunshine. He beams just the same. “See? Is this kismet or what?”

“Or what?” Robin and Nancy deadpan simultaneously. Both have their arms crossed and their hips jutted outward. The latter girl squints, a storm cloud in a pretty pink dress. The former meets the scowl with a beam. “Jinx. You owe me a coke, Wheeler.”

“What are you? Seven?” Nancy scoffs.

“Jeez…” the other girl murmurs with wide eyes. “Sorry for experiencing childlike whimsy every now and then. Won’t happen again.”

The curly-haired brunette girl rolls her eyes.

Eddie walks ahead of you and Steve and kicks the metal gate open with the toe of his dirty sneaker. It opens with a slow and eerie squeeaakk.

The boy glances over his shoulder at the group before stepping through the unlocked entrance. He holds his arms out like he’s just done some sort of magic trick, leather jacket rippling in the wind.

“Our kingdom awaits,” he announces with a mystical sort of accent.

Nancy follows after him. Robin follows after her.

You and Steve idle at the entrance. He can feel your apprehension.

“Wait, guys,” you caution, voice wavering as your features scrunch with unease. “I don’t know about this…”

Steve’s palm squeezes your own — wide, warm, and reassuring. “Hey. It’s fine. We’re not gonna get caught or anything, okay? No one’s here, I promise.”

You miss the comforting, puppy-like look he flashes you. His brown eyes sparkle like amber beneath the orange streetlights, but your gaze is pulled elsewhere. There’s a large metal sign nailed to the brick beside you. No beers, bottles, cans, coolers, drugs, or cigarettes allowed on the premises.

You motion to it with your free hand, brows pinched in a look of distant horror as your head whips to the boy next to you. “We can’t go in there, Stevie! We have all that stuff!”

Robin chokes back a laugh. Nancy shoots her a glare, and she swallows it down.

Steve doesn’t bother to hide his chuckle, though. He squeezes your hand again. “We’ll be okay, babe. I promise.”

“He’s right, princess,” Eddie affirms across from you. His wild curls bunch at his shoulders when he tilts his head to the side. His deep brown eyes glimmer beneath the lamplight, along with the tin can of drugs he grips in his left hand. He shoots you a mischievous grin. “That shit only applies when people are around to catch us.”

You turn to Steve again. The bridge of his nose scrunches as he nods. “What he said.”

“But there’s no lifeguard on duty,” you murmur sheepishly, peering up at the boy from beneath your lashes. Your gaze is wide with insistence and concern. “Like... What if something bad happens?”

“I’ll keep you safe, babe. I promise,” Steve whispers with a gentle laugh. He tugs on your hand and twists his body so you’re standing toe-to-toe. Your chest brushes his torso — his lean body adorned with a fitted collared shirt and vintage denim jeans. His chin tilts downward as he grins at you. “I was a lifeguard for a summer, remember?”

“So you’ll save me if I drown?” you ask him, just to hear him say yes, as you lean further into him.

“I’d give you mouth-to-mouth just for the hell of it, sweetheart.”

Your concern washes away with a beam.

Hawkins Community Pool smells like chlorine and summertime — all things clean and nostalgic. The blue water glistens in the moonlight when the rain clouds start to wane. The white lights in the walls make the cerulean color much more vivid than usual.

Nancy sits on the edge of the steps, her boots propped up neatly next to her while her feet dangle in the water. Eddie lounges in one of the chairs just behind her, a lit joint lazing in his pink mouth — glowing softly orange with every puff he takes.

Robin was the only one actually swimming, though not of her own accord. She’d been under the impression that everyone was jumping in at the same time after Steve told her as much. Now, she floats amongst the soft waves of the pool, fully clothed.

Steve stands off to the side with you. His fingers are firmly curled around your elbows, steadying you as you dip your toe in the water. It’s warmer than you expected — maybe because it’s much cooler outside than usual.

“Cold?” the boy wonders with raised brows.

You shake your head. “It kinda feels like bath water.”

“Told ya,” he remarks with a tight-lipped smile.

He steps back from you and tugs at the hem of his shirt. He frees his body from the fitted fabric, baring his toned torso and fuzzy chest to the night sky.

You can’t help but gawk at him like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him. Like his body is the first one you’ve ever seen, ever. He’s too pretty not to be admired.

Robin whistles lowly in the water as Steve tosses his shirt onto an empty lounge chair.

“That’s so funny— I was just about to say the same thing,” you giggle with a crooked smile.

Steve rolls his eyes at the both of you. “Your turn, babe. C’mon. Get naked.”

Your face scrunches at the brazen nature of his words.

“Well, not naked, just— you know what I mean.”

You don’t have any reservations about your friends seeing your halfway naked body. Steve’s seen you in a whole lot less, too many times for you to count. You, Robin, and Nancy have gotten changed together a few times, too. And Eddie’s… Eddie. You trust him too much to be too timid around him.

You toe your shoes and socks off first, then push your skirt down your hips and pull your shirt over your head. You’re left in a pair of cotton underwear — not overtly modest, but it certainly not the sexiest set you could’ve chosen. Your top is much of the same. It’s a borderline sports bra with lace trimming around the edges.

Steve looks at you like you’re wearing custom-made lingerie — like you’re a goddess carved from stone. His honey eyes only flit away from your form when he catches Eddie staring at you. “Stop ogling, Munson.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Harrington,” the boy murmurs through the blunt in his mouth. He hasn’t so much as blinked, too high to realize how unabashedly his gazing at you. “I am being perfectly respectful.”

You extend your arm towards Steve again, cold without him embracing you. “Hold my hand?” you murmur with a sheepish inflection — as if there were any possibility of him turning you down.

“Don’t ask me that,” the boy scoffs. “Ever.”

His foreignly harsh tone makes you cower. Your eyes go wide as your head jerks back.

“The answer’s never not gonna be yes, babe,” he answers with a lopsided grin. His palm wraps around yours, clutching you like he was made to do it.

Your brows pinch in confusion. Steve’s brown eyes flit to the starry sky as he tries to articulate his jumbled thoughts. “I mean, like, it’s never gonna be yes— Nope. That's not right, either. It’s never gonna be no. I’m always gonna say yes to you. Yeah. There we go.”

You understood what he said the first go around. Sorta. But you like when he gets all tongue-tied with you. He’s too perfect most of the time. His occasional ineloquence is perhaps his only flaw.

But is a flaw really a flaw if you love it so much it makes you beam brighter than beams of blue moonlight?

“Right,” you nod, pursing your lips to the side when a smile threatens to take over your mouth.

“Let’s jump in before I make a bigger fool of myself, yeah?” he pleads.

You plunge into the deep end with Steve at your side. It’s a lot less scary that way.

You rise to the surface of the sparkling water with a gasping breath. You can almost taste the chlorine with the fierceness of your inhale. Steve comes up right after you, panting and beaming just the same.

He looks like the rest of your life — wet hair as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

You feel like you could conquer universes with Steve holding your hand.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #st drabbles #stevie drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

340 notes · View notes

jokeroutsubs · 10 months

Text

ART BOX portal interview with Joker Out’s Bojan Cvjetićanin and Kris Guštin

“NEW WAVE: JOKER OUT – A NEW GENERATION OF THE OLD SOUND”

Interviewed by: Sara Stojev

The Slovenian band Joker Out performed for the first time in Belgrade, at this year's Beer Fest. Joker Out was formed in 2016 and has been present on the Slovenian and Balkan scene for seven years. They have two successful albums Umazane misli and Demoni. At this year's Eurovision Song Contest, the band represented Slovenia with the song Carpe Diem. They took 21st place in the final, but the band achieved significant success after the Eurovision. In addition to the previously planned Balkan tour, Joker Out is performing throughout Europe this summer. While they performed in Ireland in June, they have a scheduled Great Britain tour in July, and in September they are expected to tour the countries of Scandinavia: Finland, Sweden, and Norway (T/N: Finland is not a part of Scandinavia).

Joker Out. Photo: Ursa Premik

Joker Out attracted a lot of public attention in Serbia as well. At the Beer Fest, they performed in front of a large audience and created a phenomenal atmosphere. This band is proof that Slovenia has a music scene that can conquer the Balkans and achieve the success that the Serbian, Croatian and Bosnian music scenes achieved. The band consists of singer Bojan Cvjetićanin, guitarist Kris Guštin, guitarist Jan Peteh, drummer Jure Maček and bassist Nace Jordan.

We spoke with frontman Bojan and guitarist Kris ahead of their performance at Beer Fest.

Your music is a fusion of different genres. You stated that you do not define the band through one specific genre. How would you describe that fusion?

Bojan: All the members of the band listened to different music while growing up, but we all met in some English indie rock. Each instrumentalist expresses his own musical taste. For example, Jan prefers a mix of metal and hip-hop, while Kris is a big fan of the Beatles, Fleetwood Mac and Dire Straits, i.e. classic rock. I grew up with ex-YU rock. We all listened to some Slovenian bands such as Siddhartha, Big Foot Mama, and Dan D.

Kris: We actually have a definition of our sound, which is Shagadelic Rock n' Roll. We took Shagadelic from Austin Powers, and we think that phrase describes us the best.

Music is a broad concept in itself. We can conditionally divide it into pop music and the cultural-artistic scene. Your music certainly belongs to the cultural-artistic scene. How do you perceive such scene in Slovenia and in the Balkans in general? How does Joker Out fit into it?

Bojan: After talking with colleagues from Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina and Croatia, we can conclude that the Slovenian rock and roll scene is currently the most active and receives the most attention. There are many bands in Slovenia that perform at gigs and festivals and also have the possibility of doing independent concerts. Those bands cover a wide range of generations who are fans of such music. In this spirit, a large number of fashion designers and graphic designers, for example, have appeared in the last five to seven years. Slovenia currently has a very positive view of the music scene and culture in general.

Kris: At the same time, we don't have a pop scene like there is in Serbia.

Bojan: That kind of music and the raft and club culture does not exist in Slovenia in the same way. Folk music is certainly played, but it often happens that these performers perform in the same place where some rock and roll bands perform, for example.

Joker Out, Belgrade. Photo: Vida Orahek

The band was formed in your teenage years. What were those beginnings like?

Bojan: We formed the band in high school. Joker Out was the product of a larger goal. Before Joker Out, I founded the band Apokalipsa in 2012. Kris and Jan formed their band Buržuazija a little later. We achieved minimal but significant success with Apokalipsa in a smaller circle in Ljubljana. Kids used to come to our gigs. Kris and Jan used to come, too. Everything was at the beginner level. Our wish was to raise it to a higher level. I went to a concert where I heard Kris and Jan play, I liked it and that's why I invited them to form a new band. Thus, in 2016, Joker Out was born.

What moment do you consider crucial for the transition from an amateur band to the successful band that you are today?

Kris: There are a few moments like that. The first is when we won the Špil League in 2017, the biggest band competition in Slovenia. Our second single Omamljeno telo was released after that, which achieved the first major success. We released the single Gola in 2019. The song was quickly picked up by major and commercial radio stations. We already knew then that we are going to do something big. I think that our decision to perform at Eurovision was also crucial because it happened at the right moment.

You have two albums behind you, Umazane misli and Demoni. How are they different and how are they similar? What is authentically Joker Out about them?

Bojan: We see more similarities than differences. We wanted them to be different, but it didn't happen to the extent we expected. Both albums are quite melodic. I think the first album had a slightly lighter tone, both thematically and sonically, and I would say a little less experimentation. The first album was the result of two years of making music, some singles developed into an album, so I wouldn't say it has a thread. Demoni had that, it was made as an album and we worked on it actively for five months. We stepped out of our comfort zone for the first time and went to other studios where we had not played before. I would say the second album is more coherent.

What will you change on the next album compared to the previous two?

Kris: We don't have any plans for the third album yet, but we want it to be a bit more thick, like the songs A Sem Ti Povedal on the first and Katrina on the second album. Also, we want it to have songs in other languages as well. In addition to Slovenian, we hope that there will be songs in Serbian, Croatian, English, Spanish and French.

Joker Out, Belgrade. Photo: Vida Orahek

This year you represented Slovenia at the Eurovision Song Contest. What was the experience like for you? How do you explain the success you achieved after Eurovision?

Bojan: Eurovision was a very positive experience for us. Everything we hoped for in our careers has happened after Eurovision. Our goal at the Eurovision itself was to remember the year 2023 as a year where the Slovenian national team was good, as well as to see if we could gain fans outside of Slovenia, which turned out to be possible. Eurovision is one of the biggest spectacles in the world. There certainly are big and powerful players there, it was the same this year. Although we didn't get the best place, we think we did a great job. The success we achieved is much more important to us than winning without anything happening in our career after the competition.

You are now doing a summer tour that will last until the end of September. What can we expect after the tour?

Kris: There will be new music for sure. We are planning a new single at the end of summer. The tour covers Slovenia, Croatia, Serbia and Bosnia and Herzegovina in our area. In addition, we will be touring the UK and Scandinavia. After the tour, we will hold our biggest concert to date at Arena Stožice in Slovenia on October 6th, which is already sold out. We will have two performances in Zagreb in November. We are performing in Novi Sad in October. We are planning more European and Balkan tours after all these events, as well as new music.

Collaborator of the Art Box portal with the band Joker Out in Belgrade. Photo: from a private archive

As Kris and Bojan mentioned, Joker Out returns to Serbia on June 28, with a performance at Arsenal Fest in Kragujevac. The band announced this week they will also be performing at SKCNS, at Fabrika.

Article translation by: Teo @/yiboego on Twitter DO NOT REPOST!

#joker out #bojan cvjeticanin #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #kris gustin #jan peteh #nace jordan #jure macek #jure maček

88 notes · View notes

taggedmemes · 3 months

Text

SENTENCE MEME TWISTED METAL / SEASON 01 EPISODES 01 + 02

the world fell to shit.

not having easily accessible porn freaked people out.

it's like a goddamn maze in here.

i got a big package for you.

time makes a fool of us all.

what's your name, slugger?

time to turn on the charm.

guess i'm not getting that knife back.

i'm sure you've got some stories.

charming, devilishly handsome, you know the type.

he was invited to have a beer with a mysterious, mildly intimidating white lady.

you got a solid ass.

i've got a lot of power.

i can make people's desires, their dreams, their every wish come true.

you have no idea what i would do for some two-ply.

i've never met a baby before.

aren't you tired of almost dying every day?

arent you tired of always being alone?

he had a theory that little sins could attract big sins.

consider it your punishment for crimes committed against the law.

eat my ass.

saving your ass once again.

it'll make your nipples spin like a lady in the burly-q show.

that's why i'm here to see your pretty face.

it means dealing with a bunch of brainwashed, burger worshipping screwballs.

there's chaos out there.

you know, it's really rude not to introduce yourself before pulling a gun on someone.

how about you lower that sorry excuse for a gun and i'll lower my exceptionally cool blade.

we don't want things to escalate, do we?

see? now things have escalated.

this never happened to me before.

you never get a second chance to make a first impression.

six bullets, each with your name on it.

that said, i'm willing to negotiate.

i love you, but this is all your fault.

well excuse me for trying to get you something dope for your birthday.

you know what's dope? a full eight hours of sleep.

i call dibs on the man titties.

they'd rather eat the flesh of their own kind than starve.

silent, but not very deadly.

you can hide, but i have ways to find you.

damn. that usually works.

why are you scurrying away, little squirrel?

sounds like you have trust issues.

i finally felt hot water that wasn't my own piss.

i really appreciate you coming along nicely.

normally i have to drag people into here kicking and screaming.

you won't like what happens if you run.

i love names. i'm kind of a name guy.

you should consider yourself lucky.

there are some things i wish i could forget.

you holding in a fart or something?

are we really gonna kill these guys?

they see the world in shades of grey.

my entire life people have been lying to me.

being alone was all i knew.

i was gonna starve her, watch the life slowly drain from her eyes.

i think she's gonna give you a run for your money.

you try to kill me every chance you get.

why should i show you mercy?

if it wasn't for me, you would be a starving corpse right now.

neither one of us made it pretty far on our own.

instead of trying to stab each other in the back, we should put our heads together and figure out how in the hell we're going to make it through this.

cool, we're fucked.

i am gonna tour de force this machete down your throat.

if you're not gonna tell the truth, then i'm gonna make you shut up and bleed.

it was a fucking snooze-fest.

your performance was dull as dick water.

you don't want to spend the rest of your life alone.

i'm gonna embrace the chaos.

maybe i'll even fall in love.

i have to admit i didn't think we were gonna make it out of there alive.

what is your problem anyway?

i'm keeping the gun.

you're really not gonna tell me your name?

did you just ask me for oral?

eat my ass, fuck.

#sentence meme #rp meme #sentence starters #roleplay meme #starter sentences #rp starters #rpc #starter meme #rp sentences #rp prompts #sentence prompt #roleplay prompts #sentence prompts

27 notes · View notes

ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 2 years

Note

Late night cuddle fest with Dean x Plus sized Reader while watching a B horror movie. Maybe while they're enjoying a burger?

༉‧₊˚. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 || 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

― pairing: dean winchester x plus size!reader

― summary: after taking jack out for a long night of trick-or-treating, dean knows a classic way to help you wind down.

― warnings: none! this is literally so fluffy!

― wc: 894

⋆ a/n: i can't tell you how excited i was to write for this! i had took the chance to make it a halloween themed oneshot seeing as though it is october, and i've just been itching to make one anyway! thank you so much for your request! :]

masterlist | AO3

Halloween. It was your favorite time of the year, the time where it looked like a crafts store had thrown up on the inside of the bunker as it was decorated with black cats, pumpkins, funny ghosts, bats, and black & orange tinsel which hung over the open doors of the kitchen and war room, serving as a makeshift door so you were forced to walk through it.

Sam of course had enjoyed your enthusiasm over the holiday despite knowing it's origins, grateful for the normalcy that it brought to their very unnormal lives. Jack did too, and upon your promise, you were going to take him trick or treating for the first time, his costume all picked out — courtesy to you. Castiel didn't quite understand your fascination with the event, but he enjoyed the glee that your soul radiated. And Dean, oh your Dean, if there was a Grinch for Halloween, that's what he would be.

He always said that your lives were like Halloween everyday, so what makes this any different? Despite it all, he had benefitted from it as well.

He watched as you waddled into the kitchen where he stood with a beer, his lips spread into a grin at the sight of your witch costume. You had almost completely sweated the face paint off, your face obviously showing signs of exhaustion. “How'd trick or treating go?” He asked, placing his beer down onto the metal counter top before tugging you into his arms where you laid your cheek on his chest, some of the green smearing on his shirt. “Tiring. It reminded me of why I haven't done it since I was a teenager; plus my feet hurt like a bitch.” He let out a deep chuckle, “Did you guys get anything good?” You nodded. “And even if we didn't poor Jack can't tell the difference, that boy likes candy too much to discriminate.”

“Did you let him dump the bowls that were left out in his bag?” You could hear the smirk in Dean's voice as he asked, clearly reminiscing the juvenile act of his youth. You pulled away from his chest to look at him, throwing your arms around his neck as his hands settled on your waist. “No, Dean, I didn't. ‘Because unlike you, I don't wanna ruin some poor kids Halloween by there being no more candy.” Dean just blew a dismissive raspberry. “Their parents end up eating most of their candy anyways, so why not take it for yourself? And besides, isn't that what being a teenager is all about? Stealing kids candy and making babies cry?”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, looking at the man incredulously. “Alright, Mr. Teenage Dirt Bag,” You said as you patted his chest, “I’m gonna go take a shower and wash all this make up off.” You placed a quick peck onto his lips. As you departed from him, you yelled over your shoulder, “Don't touch any of his candy, Dean, I'll know!” You could hear a faint, “No promises!”

Your scalp felt way better now that you had taken off the itchy wig that you felt like you had been wearing for hours, your pores feeling exfoliated as you dried your hair, walking into the room that you shared with Dean. You were then greeted by a pleasant surprise; your shared bed adorned burgers and other fattening sweets, blankets and pillows that were spooky themed had been thrown onto it as a sweet addition.

Your heart swelled as you watched Dean fiddling around with his laptop in an attempt to play the horror movie that he had picked for the night.

“What's all this?” You asked with a giddy smile. Dean let out a small sound of victory as he got the movie to play before turning his attention to you. “I just figured that you'd wanna settle down after all that walkin’ you were doin’.” He got up, careful not to mess up his set up as his hands fell on your wide hips. “And I kinda felt like an asshole for not sharing the holiday spirit.” Your eyes softened at his admission, you tugging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a passionate kiss.

He gratefully accepted your kiss, his lips moving against your own as he attempted to be slick and pull the old french on you.

“Dean.” You chided. “I know, I know, but you can't blame me for trying, sweetheart.” He laughed with a smile that matched your own, both of you gazing into each other's eyes before he tugged you towards the bed. “C’mon, I know you'll really like this movie.” You allowed him to help you on the bed, backs sat up against the pillows as he had you tucked away in his side, your head resting on his chest.

“All Saint's Day? Really?” You asked, a teasing lit in your voice. “What? It's a classic!” He exclaimed, giving your body a squeeze. “I know it is, Deano,” You leaned up to press a kiss against his jaw, his scruff brushing against your chin, tickling you, “But that doesn't change the fact that we've seen this movie almost a thousand times already.” You spoke against his skin. He just scoffed, “Shut up and eat your burger, woman. ‘Before it gets cold.” There were no malice in his words, which made you giggle nonetheless.

“Yes sir.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02

189 notes · View notes

frazzledsoul · 15 days

Note

Hello friend...what do you think Jess Mariano is up to right now?

Not fucking an extraterrestrial pig, that's for sure.

Unfortunately, my 2024 headcanon for Jess Mariano involves him married to Rory and having a handful of kids, so I'm not sure how slutty it is. It also involves Doula getting her GED and either living with or near him and going/planning to go to to some sort of trade school.

However, there are two events I could see him being at tonight: The Fillmore is having a Metal and Beer Fest this weekend with a bunch of hardcore bands playing. It's kind of pricey and I'm not sure he's into that at 40 (or that Rory would want to come along). The kids couldn't go to that, of course. The other thing that's happening is something called the Philly Otaku fest, which is this huge anime/video game festival. I actually think Rory's son (now almost 7) would be all over that and he might need to be there for work reasons. So they'd probably be there at least some point this weekend.

#lol probably not what you were looking for here #jess mariano #gilmore girls #frazzled's headcanons

11 notes · View notes

physicsgoblin · 7 months

Text

Ugh so I am not happy with how my @inklings-challenge story is turning out. I like the idea, don't think it's executed the best and it's not done, but I want to publish some of it anyway. Maybe sharing some of it will help. This as been a great exercise so far for me though. Any feedback is appreciated.

I fully intend to rework this into something bigger. I've got other ideas...

Anyway. Here is part of Strange Gods.

Look, you won’t be hearing telling this story at any other time, but it’s a party and I’m a little drunk. You know how it is, after almost everyone’s gone home, it’s late August and the air’s warm but it’s almost midnight and it’s got that coolness in the air, plastic chairs are huddled around a dying fire and it’s only the friends that are closer than brothers. The heart’s nocturnal. I guess this is when it comes out.

So here we are and I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you and I don’t care what you think. Well. I guess that’s not true. I don’t know if we did the right thing. But you’re not the one we have to answer to.

Since Brad brought you in with us, I guess you know we used to be a band. Strange Gods. Ever heard of it? Well, little before your time. We were never big. Mostly local shows and Metal Fests. Opened for some bigger names a couple times. We had fun, we had hair longer than our girlfriends’ and sometimes more makeup then them too. Mostly we were just guys in jeans and T-shirts with a passion for music. We fancied ourselves artists. My wife calls music “the art most like divinity”. Like how God could just speak and His words obeyed and music is a little like that. Ours was more like a sneeze than divine speech maybe but she loved it still. I still play for her, sometimes.

Oh the best part was the fans. The girls. You know how it is. You’re kinda weird in high school, a little awkward, but then you start strumming on a guitar, you say oh yeah I play drums in a band and suddenly you’re doing ok.

The worst part? The fans. We weren’t too big, but you’d get recognized every now and again. Sometimes it was all cool, just talking about music and shit. Other times people got a little weird. They thought oh, here’s someone famous, and then you’re almost not human to them anymore. But it was usually alright. And there was one in particular that I—none of us—will ever forget.

The kid was a local. Not much younger than us, but a hell of a lot more awkward. It was alright though. He wore these glasses and those kinds of shirts with full moons and yellow-eyed wolves scattered on the front and he’d sort of talk at the ground instead of at you and he loved the fact that a lot of our songs were based on local history and legend—half-hanged witches, wolves with a thirst for human flesh in winter, earth that won’t accept the dead—a lot of what you’d expect. Well this kid’s name was…I’ll call him Louis. Louis met us at Outer Realms (you know that pub on 114th?) after a very small gig, but we hadn’t been in Strange Gods for very long, so even small gigs were celebrated. Maybe we would have been more weirded out by this kid kinda staring and shyly shuffling up to us if we were sober but you know what, it was ok. Jason even let him have one of his guitar picks and we got him a beer, which he accepted enthusiastically but didn’t drink once. He said he loved having someone write songs about all the stories his dad told him as a kid. He said if we wanted more inspiration, he could help us. He collected stories, he said, the ones you whispered at sleepovers and summer camps, the ones that changed a little bit every time you told them, the ones almost nobody really believed. And we were like, hell yeah brother. That’s how Louis became our consultant for lyrics. Winter Walker, Thy Iron Refine, and Dance at the Bottom of the Sea all had songs with lyrics by him. But he never wanted credit, never wanted his name listed on the albums. He just seemed content to hang out at our house and tell us stories. Whenever we went on tour he would ask us to collect legends of the cities we visited. Brad told him he was welcome to join us but he just smiled at the ground and shook his head. He liked it here. Why would anyone ever want to leave?

Louis was friends with us for almost two years. He even spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with us since he didn’t have anyone else since his dad had died. He worked two part-time jobs, one at Seeny’s Pizza Arcade and one at the post office sorting letters, but most evenings and weekends he would come join us, sometimes bringing over a new boardgame all the way from Europe or a home-baked apple-pie (this guy could bake). Or he’d go on long walks wandering in the woods and fields outside town.

One day in November Louis didn’t show up for our usual Saturday night jam. We were working on the song Night Rite for the album that ended up being Seven Red Seeds and he was supposed to show up and work on lyrics with me and Jason. We were supposed to be filming a music video to go along with the new release and that was pretty exciting. But the kid never showed. We shrugged it off. After all, he was a bit of a loner. Besides us he didn’t seem to have any friends. He took long walks, sometimes after midnight.

Yeah. I’ll have to answer for not looking a little harder sooner.

Brad tried calling him Sunday with no pick-up. We drove down to the house that he rented from Mrs. Ozeki, but she said he want out on one of his little tramps at around 4pm yesterday, but she hadn’t heard him come in.

No, it’s alright. I’m fine, I’m just getting a little too sober I guess. I mean it’s not alright but it has to be.

We reported his disappearance after checking in with his work and learning he didn’t show up there either. The police investigated us, briefly. We were basically the only people he hung out with and maybe all the songs about murdered kings and lost whaling ships freaked them out a bit. Ultimately they ruled us out. They ruled almost everything out.

Brad, Jason, and I were all volunteers for when they swept the woods in long lines looking for scraps of clothing, his glasses, anything. I remember us all looking at each other, thinking the same thing, but Jason was the only one who said it out loud. He said, I don’t want to be the one to find his body.

The most they found when they swept the woods was his camera. Someone else had found it and we never got to see what exactly was on the film. Someone clearly has. The newspapers speculated about if it had held any clues, but any questions for the Sheriffs department was met with a “we do not believe the photographs from the victim’s camera hold any information about what led to his disappearance.” Yeah, bullshit. We heard stories around about most of the pictures just being of the few remaining winter robins, which Louis loved. And then everyone had a different version of what was on the last three. Some said close shots of a man in a red windbreaker. Some said blurry images of a great white wolf like the legends.

But the one that we all thought sounded the most real, was that of a field. You know the one near the old Pressfield cemetery? Photos of seemingly nothing but brown grass and gray skies but in the distance what looks like an enormous black bird flying near the ground. And over the last few photographs, the thing gets closer and closer, until the last picture is a smeared mess of Louis turning around, I guess to run. I don’t know for sure though. I pray to Christ I never do.

What we saw was enough.

In the end the case ran absolutely cold. They had nothing. If some psycho got him, he left no trace. If he got hurt and died of exposure, where was the body? If an animal got him, where was the blood and torn clothing? He sure as hell didn’t just ditch town out the blue.

We took a little time off from everything. It just didn’t feel right, you know, writing about death and ghost stories when our weird little friend had just become one. I’ll always wonder. If he thought, you know, this is fitting. To become what I have always chased. God I’m still drunk. Of course not. You don’t think about all the badness you write songs about until you can’t even bury someone’s son.

His uncle and a few cousins came down to collect his things and clear everything up. The oldest cousin met with us a few times, let us know that she was glad Louis had had some people here after his dad had passed away. She invited us to the little funeral they had at Salve Regina Church. Brad almost didn’t go. He gave in eventually but he sat in the back and didn’t stay afterward. No, I’d never been until then. There were moments, you know, moments where I forgot why we were there and the strange chants and the candles and the silence dropped over you like heavy night and bright day and I remember looking at the wrinkled man in black and gold and thinking, this is crazy and I think I’m wanting to be crazy too.

The priests shook our hands as we left and spoke to us about Louis and about how he would pray for us and ask the other Fathers to pray for us too. And they nodded and smiled gravely and the taller one, Father Nicholas, said, we will be happy to see you next Sunday. And Jason said we’d think about it.

Eventually we had to get going with life again. Things felt a little more somber. I mean really somber, not this adolescent misery we’d been playing with. We stopped going to Outer Realms after every work day, Brad flushed all our weed. It just felt cheap. Jason spent more time with his little sisters during his free time, Brad flew back to Chicago for a few days during Christmas to spend it with his parents. Me? I hung around. My future wife was here and that’s where I wanted to be.

It was mid-February when our producer started kicking us to get back into finishing our songs and making the music video that had been put on hold. And you know I guess without really discussing it, we knew what we wanted to do.

Dies Irae isn’t our most famous song, but I don’t care, it’s our best. When we talked it over with our producer, we drew a hard line: Pressfield cemetery. That old one where they found that kid’s camera? Yeah, that’s the one. We want it filmed there.

That’s what we said and that’s what we did. And yeah, old natures die hard, it was still over-the-top, it still had some goth-looking girls (one of whom eventually became my wife), and when we got there it was freezing and gray and brown-iced earth. It was still us and we hoped it would still be Louis.

We had a couple of days to film. On the first day Jason went for a little walk around the perimeter of the cemetery, fingers red from the cold as he held his cigarette, and when he came back around he looked a little jumpy. He said, I don’t like it here. Them birds are talking. Talking? Yeah talking. Well, laughing.

It felt weird being there again. There was a feeling in the air even from the film crew that had never been there before. One said it was bad luck to be walking around all these bodies and the only reason he was doing this was because he needed the money.

And it was weird to think that the gravestone that had Louis’s name carved into it was just a false monument.

On the third and last day it started pouring rain. Just pounding. You couldn’t hardly see a damned thing in front of you. It was the kinda rain that hurt when it hit you it was coming down so hard.

We were packing up, almost everyone had left, when Jason comes up to our pick-up and asks if we heard a weird noise. Weird noise? Well hell yeah, those girls were wild. No, he says, I ain’t kidding. Like a growl but more human. Like a scream, but more animal. Well, we kind of laugh at him, say it’s probably a cougar. And before Brad can make a joke about that—

There it is. It’s not a scream. It’s something that slices through the tombstones and rattles the eardrums so it was a sound—but of what I don’t know. I don’t know. Everyone got this look, this dead look like the world fell out beneath our feet. Nobody said a word. It sounded like it had come from somewhere in the middle of the cemetery. And there was a smell too. You know when it rains it mixes up the dirt and the plants and it just shocks you with the scent? It was like that, but as if the dirt was freshly dug and something rotten was unearthed.

And like I said, you couldn’t hardly see. Just dark blotches where the graves were blinking in and out of sight between raindrops. We just stood there, watching, listening. My heart has never pounded harder. I saw those rumors in my mind of gray skies and something big flying towards you and those are the last pictures you ever take.

Finally nothing happens and we start looking at each other, feeling like of course it was just an animal prowling around. Gosh, you had us scared man. Let’s get the hell out, let’s get back to my place, I’m cooking alfredo and Brad’s got a couple of bottles from the producer’s vineyard. Sure it was nice of him to share. Yeah actually I did get that girl’s number, the one with the green eyes? Come on, get the heat on, I’m freezing.

And we’re driving away, the noise forgotten—except Jason keeps looking out the rear window, just quick little checks. I pretend not to notice. But he twitches a couple of times, opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but no. He keeps quiet. Eventually he stops looking and seems to relax.

I don’t stop though. And a couple of times through the sheets of rain and the obstruction of the trees, I wonder if I see something wet, dark, and shiny slinking along the road. But it’s impossible to tell.

I get up the next morning and find this thing slung across the back porch. The ground is still soaked from last night’s rain but it hasn’t managed to wash away the shear amount of blood that’s coating the concrete patio. And I need you to get this. It was so much blood. You could’ve splashed around it. My stomach almost couldn’t take it. My sense of smell certainly didn’t.

Brad and Jason got up because of the smell. They shuffled out like the dead awakened and found me staring at this thing on the porch. Jason started retching and I told him to puke in the sink. I wasn’t about to clean up this thing and then clean up after him. What the hell is it? Brad says. Who cares? It’s got to get off the porch. Looks like a malformed-newlyborn-mut or something. Maybe it got suckered by a car.

We dug it as deep as we could and it crossed my mind that, damn, maybe we shouldn’t have a thing that smells that bad, a thing that looks that rotted decomposing God knows what into the soil. And Brad didn’t say anything but I knew we were thinking the same thing. Something about it just feels wrong. Like we shouldn’t be touching it. Like we shouldn’t have even looked at it. It crossed my mind that maybe Father Nicholas could come over and do whatever it is priests do to make things clean.

The paws though, check those out. They kinda look like hands, thinking maybe it’s a raccoon but the bastards too big. Good lord, it looks almost rotten. Maybe something else dropped it off. On the porch? On my porch man? Get the hose too, we got to wash off the whole backyard after this. Get the shovel and help me out—of course we’re going to bury it, that’s just what you do. Something’ll dig it out of the trash if we chuck it in there. It looks sorry enough, that’s just what you do.

How big? Maybe about four feet long. It looked pathetic and disgusting and I didn’t tell Brad this but I almost was glad. Maybe that ain’t it. But it felt right that we had our shovels and we were digging a hole and we were going to lay this bloody pulp in it. Father Nicholas once told me about things being fitting. And I guess that’s what it was, fitting.

No, I didn’t, make that connection, between this thing and what we heard in Pressfield cemetery. Not yet. But you know how it is. You never think you’re going to get a story out of something while you’re in it.

The thing was buried and we scrubbed ourselves off and then moved on with our day. Jason seemed much quieter, but he’d been that way since Louis vanished. So maybe it was nothing.

During the night I drempt I was on a boat. It was a boat that my parents had taken me to once, on a family vacation to Main. It was white and blue and unlike that July day years ago, the sea was wine-red and wild with storm. The waves were flooding the deck and the red foam left behind looked like clumps of flesh. I was stumbling around, looking for my mom or my dad or anyone at all—but the deck was empty. I found the door that led down into the lower deck, and the wood was almost black. I put my hand against the icy door, about to push it open, but somehow through the crashing of the waves I heard a scratch, like a single long claw dragging from the top of the frame all the way down to the bottom. I pressed my ear to the door. I don’t think I was breathing. And I listened to the scratching go all the way back up and down, slowly, over and over again.

When I woke up, it was still dark and at first I was thinking I was still sleeping. The scratching sound was still ringing in my ears, and I sat up trying to shake it away. My stomach churned. The clock said 2:36 A.M. I turned my head to the small window that looked into the dark backyard and realized that the scratching noise was coming from that direction. A long, slow scratch from the top of the window to the bottom.

I wasn’t as scared as you’d think. Maybe I was still too asleep, maybe all my panic had been used up over the last few days but I found myself crawling over to the window and just—waiting. I couldn’t see jack. I hadn’t flicked on my lamp. I just waited until the scratching started over at the top and I followed it down the glass, trying to see something, anything. But all I could see was what looked like a glint of a knife and a clearly defined scratch down the middle of the pane. And that’s when it kicked in, me getting scared. Someone was dragging a Goddamn knife down my window.

The most sensible thing to do, or at least the most sensible thing my half-awake brain could think of to do, was go wake up Brad and get the rifles from underneath his bed. He was not happy. He told me I should quite drinking so much before bed, but eventually he got up, gun on his shoulder.

I kept the light off and nodded to my window. We held our breath listening. Brad got closer, looking out into the blackness. The scratching had stopped and I didn’t see anything outside. But Brad noticed the crack in the glass and suddenly looked very awake.

I’m going to go check outside, he said, and as he headed toward the back door, the one closest to my bedroom, there was a series of loud slams that sounded like a person jumping off the roof. At this point Jason was up, and he’s asking what the hell was going on and Brad told him there’s a wildcat clawing Steve’s window or some crap. I’m going to fire a shot up and scare it away.

But two things happened before Brad could slide open the back door. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but there was an familiar smell that had been growing steadily stronger, a rotten, turned-earth smell, and I couldn’t say anything except stop. Don’t open it, wait.

And Jason, stone still looking out the back window at the porch right behind the door, called out the same thing. Stop.

That’s not a cougar. You gotta look.

I’m telling you, we did look. And there was the slimy pink thing with long skinny limbs crouched in front of the back door. It looked like it had a fleshy cape on its back and it twitched as if in pain. We watched unmoving as one long claw flicked up, digging into the door, dragging it down slowly to the ground, and then repeating the act, slowly, slowly.

And you just knew, you just knew, this was the thing that wasn’t supposed to be here.

No, no way, Brad was saying, this is getting too weird. We buried this thing. We put it in the ground. And it crawled out. And we saw it. It was dead. We threw it in the hole and it got back up.

Jason was still watching the thing as it lay on the doorstep. We don’t know if it was actually dead, he said. He said it in a whisper. Well you didn’t bury it, says Brad.

***

#inklingschallenge #team chesterton #genre: intrusive fantasy #theme: burial #story: unfinished

14 notes · View notes

fawnandshadows · 2 years

Text

Fawn Fest — Love In Every Stitch

Prompt: Hehehe I used knitting for this prompt! But this is a very special addition for fawn fest because it a gift to my friend @thefangirlofhp !! Happy Belated Birthday!! I'm also pretty sure the one year anniversary of our friendship is coming up which is insane to me because I feel like we just started talking the other day. I am so grateful to have you in my life!! Thank you for all the times you've made me laugh, all the help that you have given me on my writing, and all the times you've listened to me ramble about anything and everything. Thank you for gracing the world with beautiful writing. And thank you for just being you <3

Rating: T-ish

Warnings: Language, mentions of a character death

Word Count: 2.9k

AO3

Azriel stretched his scarred hands after setting down the two metallic needles that he had been holding for hours — for the past 40 minutes the tension had been building in his hands from the tedious movements, but he didn’t want to sleep without finishing his work.

His knuckles sang with relief as he stretched his phalanges and his tightened scar tissue slowly melted into relaxation as he massaged his hands.

“How does this look?” Azriel asked, nodding to the creation that laid flat on the coffee table.

He could hear the fridge shutting behind him and then the heavy footfalls of Cassian moving across the hardwood floor, and Azriel tensed as his brother approached. Azriel had spent his entire weekend working on the project in front of him, and despite his reputation as being clueless, Azriel knew that his brother understood why he dedicated 48 hours of his life to knitting a cardigan that would be useless in a few months. But that didn’t stop Azriel from dedicating all of his free time to making sure that every single stitch was perfect.

With a groan Cassian sat down next to him, Azriel could feel the leather of the couch sinking from his brother's weight, and Cassian leaned forward to drop his can of beer on the coffee table next to the small cardigan.

Azriel looked at him sharply, silently warning his brother not to spill, and Cassian rolled his eyes and scooted the frosty can across the table.

Cassian picked up the small article of clothing and inspected it, and Azriel had to admit that the sweater looked ridiculous in Cassian’s large hands. The entire garment had alternating pink and purple rows — Azriel did his best to knit small flowers into the design, and he thought that he did a good job, but now that someone else was looking at it he was hit with a sudden wave of anxiety.

“You actually made this?” Cassian asked, turning the cardigan around to look at the back and running his fingers along the rows of stitches. “Just this weekend?” Azriel nodded his head in response, his eyes trained on the cardigan because he didn’t want to see whatever expression was on Cassian’s face, but he was aware of the way Cassian shook his head and let loose a low whistle. “She’s going to love it, Az. They both are.”

Cassian set Azriel’s work back on the table and clapped his brother on the shoulder.

“Are you going tomorrow?” Azriel asked.

“Yeah, I can give it to her if you want.” Cassian offered, reaching over to grab his beer and opening it.

Azriel waited until the pop and fizz had subsided before saying, “No, I’ll give it to her myself.”

A choking sound came from Cassian’s throat, and Azriel finally looked at his brother to see his eyebrows raised to the top of his head and beer dripping down his chin.

Once Cassian managed to breathe again he said, “I should have known, really, especially since…” His voice drifted off, and his eyes landed on the cardigan that Azriel had knit.

Azriel simply nodded his head in acknowledgment of what Cassian had left unsaid.

With a stretch, Azriel stood and said good night to Cassian before turning in for the night.

___

Azriel didn’t know what to expect at a child’s birthday party, and in reality he should have expected screaming children to be a part of it, but that didn’t stop him from internally cringing as the loud shrieks of laughter filled the air and grated on his nerves.

And they were all running.

All of them. Not one single child stood still. And two of them almost knocked Azriel over as they rushed past while playing an intense game of tag — they had almost knocked the gift out of his hand, but Azriel had managed to clutch it to his chest just in time.

“You made it!” Elain’s voice called out through the noise, and Azriel swiveled in her direction. His body answered before his brain could think. He instantly relaxed as his eyes landed on her smiling form, and the small child that was resting on her hip.

“Ash! Cash!” The birthday girl beamed as she saw her two uncles, and she slapped her pudgy hands togethers as they approached.

As they walked closer Azriel could see her golden brown eyes — eyes that were just a hair lighter than her mothers, but just as warm and friendly — gleaming with happiness. She leaned forward, almost toppling out of Elain’s hold, and reached her arms up so that Azriel could grab her.

Her legs clung to his chest like a spider and her arms wrapped around his neck.

There was something that absolutely floored Azriel every time he held Sofia in his arms. Maybe it was the fact that she was so small and warm that it set off his protective instinct. Maybe it was because the young girl had immediately taken to Azriel, not once had she ever been frightened of his size or the markings on the backs of his hands, and she always just seemed happy to see him. Maybe it was because Sofia was so damn fragile and innocent that it stunned Azriel every time he saw her. Or maybe it was because there was so much of Elain in her that it caused such a reaction in him, but as he felt the racing of her heart beating in her tiny chest his resolve to protect her from the worst part of life strengthened.

“Happy Birthday Sofia.” Azriel said and planted a kiss on her forehead, and little brown curls that had escaped from her pigtails tickled his nose.

“Momma says I’m five!” Sofia said, grinning broadly in a way that caused her cheeks to puff out like a chipmunk. “She also says to thank you for coming,” The little girl placed her hands against Azriel’s chest and toyed with the buttons on his jacket. She looked a little sheepish as she leaned closer to him. “She got mad ‘cause I forgot to thank Fey.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and her brown eyes turned wide and glassy. “But I didn’t mean it.”

“You should probably thank Cassian.” Azriel whispered as he leaned forward, making sure that his face was as serious as hers, and stifled the laughter that bubbled in his chest as she eagerly nodded along — little brown curls flying.

So, Azriel handed her to her other uncle and looked at Elain and ignored the way his heart strained in his chest.

“Hi, Lain.” Azriel said as he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, placing one hand on her shoulder while the other gripped the present he had wrapped in newspaper. He had spent so much time on the actual gift that he had forgotten to get the wrappings for it, so he hoped Sofia didn’t mind unwrapping cartoons off an old shoe box.

“I didn’t think you would be able to make it,” Elain said smiling, and if Azriel was to believe his own eyes, then she was blushing and the pink tint to her cheeks was because of him. “I know how hard it is for doctors to take a day off of work. It really means a lot,” Elain leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek and Azriel felt his breath turn heavy in his lungs. Her lips brushed against his ear as she spoke. “Her father couldn’t make it.”

His body stilled at the words, and he turned to look at the little girl who was climbing over her uncle and laughing brightly.

“Graysen’s an asshole.” Azriel said through clenched teeth, his fingers digging into her shoulder. The thick green sweater she was wearing bunched up under his hand.

“At least she has you,” Elain said softly, placing her hand over his. “Her favorite uncle.”

Azriel nearly fell apart at the seams from the warmth and happiness shimmering in Elain’s eyes.

“He doesn’t deserve you as a wife, Elain.”

Azriel could hear her breath hitching in her throat.

“Pretty soon he won’t have me as a wife.” Elain said in a hesitant voice, and it wasn’t until then that Azriel noticed the absence of a ring on her finger.

“Elain—”

“We can talk about it later,” Elain cut him off and pressed another kiss to his cheek and Azriel swore that he could feel the Earth spinning on its axis. The leaves on the trees suddenly turned vivid — fiery red and burning oranges. And yet the beauty of the fall day around them was dim in comparison to Elain. She took a step away from him until she was just out of reach and motioned to the gift. “For Sofia?”

Azriel nodded stiffly and handed it over to her.

His heart went from freezing to doing somersaults to flatlining to spinning, and Azriel barely remembered to follow Elain and Cassian as they walked towards the gift table. Sofia was smiling over Cassian’s broad shoulder at him, and Azriel forced a smile in return.

Elain. Elain single. Elain without a husband.

He tried to calm himself — He was a fucking doctor, he knew how to keep his head cool and his hands steady under pressure, but the thought of Elain finally free from her fucking rat of a husband sent every cell of his being spiraling.

There were so many nights where Azriel held Elain’s crying and shaking form as she wondered where her husband was, and so many times where Azriel had dropped everything when Graysen didn’t show up — like when Elain’s father had died and Graysen couldn’t come home from his damned business trip, so Azriel had traveled with Elain to the funeral and held Sofia’s sad and confused body to his chest, small tears running down her plump cheeks as they lowered her grandfather into the ground.

Azriel remember every fucking second of that trip, especially as Elain looked at him with watery eyes and said he was more of a father to Sofia than Graysen ever was. He loathed himself because he let himself feel a small tug of hope in his chest during some of the worst days in Elain’s life. And ever since then he was waiting for the day where Elain would finally leave her shitty husband — she deserved so much better. Someone that actually showed up. Someone that actually cared about her and Sofia.

“You good?”

Cassian’s voice lurched Azriel out of his own head, and Azriel looked up to see Cassian looking at him with concerned eyes.

“All good.” Azriel said with a tight nod of his head.

“Ash needs cake!” Sofia said, her back practically breaking from the way she leaned backward to look at Azriel. Her messy pigtails floating next to her face.

“I’d love some, sweetheart.” Azriel said, catching Sofia as she leaned further back.

Her sharp giggle rang through the air as she enjoyed her two seconds of freefalling.

“Shoulders!” Sofia screeched and she climbed over her uncle, and Azriel laid two steadying hands on the child. “Momma!” Sofia shouted as her tiny, pudgy fingers gripped Azriel’s inky hair. “Ash needs cake!”

Elain looked over her shoulder at them, and Azriel would have given anything to know what she was thinking.

He watched as she sliced a piece of cake — the corner piece with extra frosting — and handed it to him. He tried not to read into the way her fingers lingered against his.

“Bite?” Sofia whispered as soon as her mother walked away, her heavy breath next to his cheek. Azriel turned to look at her and immediately noticed how her eyes were trained on the massive slice of cake, and Azriel wondered how long it would be until she started drooling. He quickly sunk the plastic fork into the vanilla cake and stuffed it into her mouth before he found out.

“Tank you.” Sofia said, crumbs flying out of her mouth. A bit of frosting was smeared on her face and Azriel lifted a thumb to wipe it away.

The two silently shared the cake and by the time they were done it was time to open presents.

Azriel easily lifted Sofia off of his shoulders and sat her at the head of a picnic table, on a large wooden chair decorated with pink and purple flowers.

He dutifully took all of the discarded wrapping paper that Sofia threw around as she unwrapped her presents and placed it into the trash bag that he had taken from Elain’s hands.

Eventually, Sofia was handed a present decorated with peanuts comics. She ripped the paper away to expose the box beneath, and Elain raised an eyebrow at Azriel and said, “Size 13 converse? They might be a bit big.”

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile and urged Sofia to open the box.

A soft gasp fell from Elain’s lips as she took its contents.

Two chubby hands gripped the cardigan that Azriel had made, and Sofia looked at it in wonder. Her pink mouth fell open and her innocent eyes widened, and Azriel couldn’t remember ever seeing an expression that was so pure and wholesome.

“Pink,” Sofia whispered almost reverently, “Purple,” Azriel had never seen eyes that wide before. “I want to wear it please,” Sofia turned towards her mother and extended her arms out, showing off her present. “Please Momma.” She shook the small cardigan.

Elain moved quickly, taking the sweater from her childs hand and tucking it into the crook of her elbow. She undid the zipper on Sofia’s sweatshirt, revealing a matching pink shirt underneath, and maneuvered Sofia’s soft arms into the sleeves of the cardigan and then buttoned the silver plastic buttons on the front of the cardigan.

Azriel was more than a little relieved to see that the cardigan was a hair too big, so that it had a little more life in it than he had previously expected.

“No eating while you’re wearing this, darling, we don’t want it getting dirty,” Elain said as she kissed Sofia on the cheek, the small girl twisted to show off her new sweater. Her little arms stretched out as she looked at the sleeves with a dazed smile. Elain took a step back, leaning into Azriel as she whispered, “She loves it.”

“I thought she might,” Azriel, smiling down at Elain. “I figured pink and purple would be a safe choice.”

It was well known that Sofia loved anything and everything in those colors, and more often than not her fingernails were painted in differing shades from the palest pink to bright magenta to the deepest purple.

“It’s unique,” Elain commented as she looked at her daughter. “Where did you get it?”

There was a beat of silence, which caused Elain to turn her face towards Azriel. But Azriel kept his eyes trained on the preening child.

“I made it.” Azriel said in a tone he hoped was casual, but he could feel Elain stiffen at his side.

“Az,” Elain whispered and placed her palm against the back of his hand, over the scars that mangled his skin. “Thank you — That’s amazing. How did you even find the time? How —” Her fingers pressed closer to his skin, and Azriel finally turned to look at her and the way that she was looking at her, as if he had somehow pulled the stars out of the night sky and handed them to her as if they were diamonds, made his knees quake. “Thank you.”

Elain leaned on to her tippy toes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. The soft skin of her lips barely connecting with his, but it was enough to make Azriel dizzy.

“Pretty?”

They pulled away at the sound of Sofia’s little voice.

Azriel looked at the little girl who had her hands fisted in the hem of her sweater, and he noticed the nervous way she looked around and the pink blush on her plump cheeks. His heart nearly melted at her bashful expression.

Sofia looked at them with large doe eyes as she waited for their answer.

Azriel dropped the trash bag from his hand and let it fall to the grass at his feet, and he placed his hands on his knees as he knelt towards Sofia.

Delicate blonde lashes lined her eyes as she looked at him, as if she was nervous about what he would say.

“Beautiful,” Azriel said and kissed her forehead, “Just like your mom.”

Sofia bent a little at the knees and smiled at the words.

“Thank you for my present.” Sofia said, wrapping her arms around herself.

“I’m glad you like it.”

“He worked all weekend on it, bunny.” Cassian’s booming voice came from across the table, and Azriel turned towards it to see his brother with his arm wrapped around Nesta’s shoulder.

A loud gasp came from the little girl.

Azriel looked and saw two brown eyes staring at him in amazement.

“Ash made it?” Sofia asked as she fingered the fabric. Azriel slowly nodded his head. “How?”

Azriel raised his hands and pantomimed knitting and said, “Well, I use two needles and I wrap the yarn around the needles, and I move the needles like this and it creates a stitch.” The little girl's eyes followed the movements of his hands.

She let go of her sweater and brought two hands out to clasp one of Azriel’s, her small, pale hands gently moving over the gnarly scars on his skin.

“Beautiful,” Sofia said and pressed a wet kiss on the back of his hand before dropping his hand completely and reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

tagging: @thefangirlofhp @sakurakittypeach @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @feyredarlinq @alwayssara @nyxreads @rinadragomir @secretpuppyflower @captainbrucebanner @ultadverb @irisesforelain @shedoessoshedoes @magnolia-blossom87 @sheena-beene @nivem565

#elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #pro elriel #azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel fanfic #fawnandshadows writing #fawn fest #fawnandshadows fawn fest

116 notes · View notes