#anyways it’s VERY hot and cold no one knows what page the two are on about each other it’s funny

[moonshynecybin]

rosquez same age au….. imagine those two having grown up competing together in all the categories. two prodigies born literally one day apart……. would they murder each other before reaching motogp? how many on track crimes are committed? soooo much fun to ponder and think about imo

at all times during the rest of this post should you realize that marc was like a full FOOT shorter than vale for most of their teen years. please.

the thing is if they’re in the same age group, then they are competing against each other from a pretty young age! which. as we all know. activates vale’s fuck you get mine gene (no hero worship here either for marc ! like they’re both initially charmed i’m sure but they don’t have the cultural context of vale’s icon status to color their dynamic.) so i actually think it’s a weird PEDRENZOOOOO parallel thats at play here where they’re locked in a rivalry for yearsssss and it makes SPLASHYYYY headlines for a long time before they get to the big leagues… it’s the main story of the junior classes…

and because this is rosquez, that rivalry is one side resentment both sides horny, and (because it is rosquez.) they are having teenage situationship drama. this thing is they’re actually TEENAGERS this time so it gets messy FAST. like the emotions are BIG the racing is SLOPPY (marc hasn’t learned even a leedle bit of restraint) and also. they are each other’s first EVERYTHINGGGG. first kiss first redacted first also redacted first heartbreak first guy who can regularly beat the other on track. first person who challenges them. like they’re going crazy they’re playing mind games they are sneaking off with a bottle of wine the night before fp1 and getting handsy…. like they’re on a roof DRUNK looking at the stars and marc says i was born the day after you and they start mythologizing themselves in that way teens do and end up both implying that they literally believe they are each other’s soulmates (never outright stating it). AND THEN they don’t speak for three fucking months because marc overtakes vale in a slightly illegal manner at the race that weekend. teen love. also vale is also so much taller than marc in these years it’s so funny.

and i also think. in the positive sense this would actually fix a lot of their issues… it would make them way more comfortable around each other !! especially after a while. like knowing someone for that long lets in small vulnerabilities and embarrassments and comfort. and in lots of ways i think it would alleviate some of marc’s child prodigy loneliness AND divert a little of the intense media attention vale got… the only person around them who is their age is each other. the only person who thinks about racing like they do is each other. marc helps vale dye his hair and vale visits marc in the hospital when he gets diplopia and says to him. you have to get better. i don’t know how to do this without you here.

[cranberrv]

sweet

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which dallas winston sneaks into your bedroom

( a/n : this request was so cute! i want dal so badly HOLYY but anyway i hope u cuties enjoy )

the smoke of a candle danced through your room, coating it in a subtle smell of vanilla. the beatles was playing on vinyl, the record spinning endlessly. your vanity was covered in expensive makeup and one of the lightbulbs on the fairylights strung to your wall was flickering, slowly burning out. the new pink pyjamas that your mother bought you sat comfortably on your skin, and the pages of a book were flipping every few minutes.

you feel a sense of calm as you relax. it’s storming heavily out but you’re safe inside, your parents are asleep, and it’s just you and your little dog hanging out on your bed. you’re almost ready to blow out your candle and head to bed.

until you hear a knock on the window. you jump at the sudden sound disrupting your quiet time, but ignore it, thinking it’s just the wind. but then it happens again multiple times. your head is going to worst-case scenario. serial killer? kidnapper? you don’t know, but they’re impatient. so you hesitate, but peak through your lacy curtains. your lover, dallas winston, is staring at you.

you relax your shoulders and sigh, opening your window. “you scared me,” you whisper-yell so you don’t wake your parents. “how do you know where i live?”

“two-bit told me,” he tells you, talking in a normal voice. you elbow him, and he whispers as he continues. “i should be asking you why another man knows your address.”

“i babysit his sister, he drops her off all the time,” you whisper. you’re annoyed at him for showing up at midnight, and you’re about to force him out, until you notice how drenched with rain he is. “you’re all wet, dal,” you sigh. “are you cold?”

he shakes his head and shrugs, sitting on the edge of your bed. “nah, i’m alright, sugar,”

you sit beside him and gently rest your hand on his cheek for a second, checking his temperature to see if he’s lying. “you’re freezing,” you have a worried look in your eye. he knows it all too well, you get nervous for him easily. “i’ll go get you a towel. do you want hot chocolate?”

“baby, i ain’t gonna die of hypothermia,” he assures. “i don’t need hot chocolate.”

“okay,” you give him a kiss on the cheek, then stand up and walk out of the room to grab a towel.

as you walk out of the room and into the hallway, careful not to step on creaky floorboards and wake your loved ones up, dallas sits up from the bed, and starts looking around your room. he’s never been in a rich kids house before. he picks up your expensive lipstick from your vanity, the one you wear everyday, the one that stains his face when you kiss him. he picks up your perfume — he loves your perfume. he loves how you smell, rosey and feminine. the smell of you makes him feel serene, relaxation washing over him. you have this way about you that makes him feel so safe.

after he’s done looking at your vanity and your shelves of books and crystals, he catches a glimpse of himself in the vanity. he doesn’t fit in with you or your room. his hair is wet, his jacket is dirty, his shoes aren’t shiny and he looks roughed up. but what’s funny is that you don’t even care. most socs care about their reputation, they would never want to be seen around a greaser, but you don’t care. he’s never experienced unconditonal love like yours before.

you walk back in with a pink towel and see him looking at himself. “doing your makeup, dal?” you tease, and he playfully rolls his eyes in response.

“very funny, sweetie,” he sits back down on your bed and takes off his jacket.

you sit down beside him and start drying him off, because frankly, you don’t trust him to do it himself. you brush his bare shoulders and you pat his hair with the towel. he’s watching you do it all, admiring your focus and your need to take care of him. he takes your free hand in his own calloused hand, gently rubbing it with his thumb. he has so much love and thankfulness towards you, he just doesn’t know how to express it. him taking your hand causes you to lose your focus and look up at him. his gaze doesn’t drift, a soft smile on his face as your cheeks blush.

“i think i’m dry enough,” he whispers.

you nod, and set the towel down. “okay,”

he takes a breath before speaking again. “can i stay over here tonight?”

you hesitate. you would love for him to stay over, you would love to talk to him all night and spend time with him, but it’s a school night. “my dad wakes me up during school days, dallas, he’ll see you,” you whisper. “and i don’t really want him to know that a boy snuck in my room.”

“what? why? you’ll get grounded or somethin’? c’mon, doll, nothing is gonna happen,” you shrug, and he continues. “i just want to spend some time with my girl, is that a crime?”

“he’ll be mad—“ you start, but he interrupts you with a compromise.

“i’ll be out at 6:00, your old man won’t see me. i gotta help buck clean up the bar, anyway,” he insists.

“..fine.” you agree, a little smile growing on your face at the excitement of dallas sleeping over.

he gives you a peck on the lips. you guys continue talking for a little bit longer, about how he didn’t know you babysat two-bit’s sister, and about how your teacher got you in trouble for chewing gum. and when your beatles record stops and you change it, he tells you he’s never listened to them before because they’re a “soc band.”

after a while, you two are lying down, still talking in hushed whispers. it’s mostly you talking, but he loves your voice, so he doesn’t mind. his arm is around you, pulling you into his side. you let out a small yawn as you start to get tired, and he gives you a gentle pat on your back.

“go to sleep, sugar,” he tells you.

you disagree with him. “i like talking to you,”

“yeah, well, you can do that all you want tomorrow, doll,” he takes a breath. “you wanna swing by buck’s tomorrow?”

“yeah,” you nod. “i’ll come after school.”

he rubs your back gently, and adjusts himself to get more comfortable.

“can you blow out the candle?” you ask him before he gets too tired.

he nods, and leans over to your bedside table to blow it out, then he turns off the lamp. his st. christopher necklace and the smoke are the only things you can see in the darkness hugging you two. the beatles continues to play in the background, and you two stay close together, a feeling of serenity in the air. dallas chooses to stay awake for a bit longer, watching you fall into a peaceful state as you sleep.

dallas isn’t the same person with you as he is when he’s in public. when he’s with his friends, or even walking around town, he has this intimidating aura that can scare anyone who has the mispleasure of walking past him. he has a dangerous reputation around tulsa, and he’s seen as a teenage dirtbag who’s been to jail more times than you can count.

but when he’s around you, he’s completely different. his walls are torn down the minute he smells your perfume. he lets you take care of him, he doesn’t wipe off the lipstick stains on your face, and he’s oh so sweet.

so as he watches the candle smoke dance through the room, he can come to one conclusion. he will never leave the safe place that he calls you.

[munsonthings86]

we've been celestial even before this

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after she has a particularly rough day, steve takes his girl stargazing

warnings: cursing, fluff, soft!steve, established relationship (but still fairly new), oversimplified summary, reader depicted to be nineteen, these two being the biggest lovesick idiots for each other

an: i've been having a lot of fun writing about these two. they own my entire heart. hope you guys enjoy this one * don't copy my work *

wc: 6.1k

steve and sunshine's timeline

The trembling flame of the Coffee House scented candle illuminated your messy bedroom in a flickering, warm, honey light. The smell of the candle resembled nothing of coffee, more like hot cocoa or caramel you thought, but it did its job of calming your rattled nerves, nonetheless. Most of your wooden floor was hidden beneath neglected pieces of clothing that you'd pulled from your closet in a hopeless attempt to string together a decent outfit that morning. I'll tidy up tomorrow, you shrugged, though knowing you, there was a high possibility that "tomorrow" would turn into next week.

Procrastination was a terrible habit of yours, and the tension that the day left you with was doing very little to diminish it. Your early morning shift at Family Video was borderline torturous; Keith saw to that when he scheduled you sans Steve and Robin and had two inept new hires shadow you. Sure they were nice and all, from what you can recall anyway, but you were too out of it to bestow on them the patience you typically had.

Once the stint came to its much desired end, a dreadful date at the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles awaited you. In your venture to become more of an independent and responsible "adult" (being merely nineteen, the word made your blood run cold), the goal of obtaining your permit was set in stone. The written test was passed with flying colors, but like any classic BMV nightmare, you'd forgotten a required document to actually get the damn permit.

Nearly plunging to your knees, you begged the grumpy old woman behind the counter to let you run back to your apartment that was “just down the street”. Truthfully, it was a thirty minute trip on foot, but she didn't need to know that. If you ran, you could make it back in twenty.

But, again, like any classic BMV nightmare, all she left you with was a hardly sympathetic, "Sorry ma'am, but if you don't have all the required documents, I'm afraid you'll have to come back tomorrow. The office closes in fifteen minutes." Through clenched teeth, you thanked her for her time, though she neglected to return the gesture, squawking "Next in line!" in a tone that was poles apart from her customer service voice.

Mercifully, your day wasn't all terrible. On the way back home, you stopped by the library to return a week's long overdue book and, instead of crucifying you for it, the lovely librarian recommended a novel she thought you'd appreciate. Rose in Splendor by Laura Parker. Unbeknownst to her, you'd been dying to read it ever since it was published last year. The grouch over at the BMV could definitely take a page out of her book. No pun intended.

Curled into bed and tucked under your beloved ivory crotched blanket, you thumbed along the pages through gravelly, blurry eyes. You kept promising yourself "one more page", but that was well over ten pages ago.

The male love interest was recounted having perfectly tousled brown hair with a body to die for, and you couldn't help but to think of your Steve. You missed him terribly in that moment and the one thing that kept your woe at bay was the anticipation of you two's nightly phone call. It was the selling point of all your days spent without him, truth be told.

The chime of the landline in the hallway between your kitchen and bedroom pierced through the otherwise silence of your apartment, prompting you to glance at the clock on your wall. 9:32 p.m.

Speak of the devil.

Folding a little doggy ear onto the page to preserve your place, the blanket keeping your legs warm was tossed among your strewn out clothes as you nearly slipped, scurrying to answer the phone. You couldn't bite back your smile as you pressed the receiving end against your ear, hearing the music that was Steve's voice, fill your mind.

"Hi, sunshine."

A breath that was unknowingly caged, freed itself at the sound. "You're nearly on time," you teased, referring to earlier today when Steve promised to call you at 9:30 sharp tonight. Usually, he called you earlier than this, but he was jammed with babysitting duties for the six kids you were considering adopting for yourself at this point.

"I know, I'm sorry," he chuckled. "They finally fixed that game at the arcade that's been down for the past few weeks. Gaga, I think it's called."

"Galaga," you corrected, giggling to yourself. It wasn't a rare occurrence whenever the kids would drag you along on one of their many hangouts, so you were rather well-versed in their nerdy recreations. "Yeah, that's the one. I could barely pry their grubby little hands off the thing. Especially Dustin."

Based on his tone, the roll of Steve's eyes as he spoke was nearly audible. As much as he complained about constantly having to be the one to look after the party, there was a part of him that covertly loved the fact that they depended on him so much. Not only was it somewhat of an ego boost, but he's always dreamed of having little nuggets of his own to protect and guide and treasure.

The daydream of Steve being the ideal father, unlike his own dad ever was, reeled your bottom lip between your teeth as the cord of the landline fell into the trap of your twirling fingers. It was so vivid; a shirtless Steve wearing blue jeans that hugged his bottom so perfectly, driving a rackety lawn mower along the wild grass of the front yard to the house you may or may not have pictured the pair of you living in.

In that utopia, the children that you may or may not have pictured parenting with Steve, sat behind the lemonade stand that was built by their father, giggling and toying with a leaky hose as they awaited customers. You'd be watching your little family from the boxy window of the kitchen, fixing them an afternoon snack, unable to contain your laugh when the hose goes haywire, soaking your lover from head to toe.

The imagery made you giggle out loud, head falling against the wall as your stomach cramped. "What?" Steve asked, laughing along with you though it's purely out of instinct, because of course he didn't know what you were laughing about. But hearing your audible delight was contagious. He couldn't help it.

"It's nothing," you assured, smiling softly before continuing, "just hoping your day was better than mine was."

"Well I don't like the sound of that," he frowned, sneakers squeaking against his floor as he shifted his weight onto his other leg. He watched as the days worth of dirt that'd found solace on his shoes, abandon patterned scuffs on the wood. Memories of the pointed sound of his mothers voice demanding no shoes in the house rang through his head like a siren at the sight. He would've ditched his footwear at the door, but he knew he was running late for his phone date.

"What happened?"

Commencing your response with a weary sigh, you shrugged, laughing dryly, "A lot. It's not even funny how exhausted I am right now."

Steve's chest tightened. He hated when you had a bad day; it left a bad taste in his mouth. Even worse, whenever Steve would make an effort to get to the bottom of what ailed his girl, he had a less than impressive success rate, seeing as vulnerability was one of your shortcomings. Steve knew better than to pry. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to do his damnedest to make these final hours of the day your best.

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey," he lowered his head, offering a comforting smile that though you couldn't see, you could hear in his voice. "'S alright," he heard you murmur.

It fell silent for a beat before Steve inquired, "When are you comin' home?", to which you furrowed your eyebrows, letting out a confused chuckle. "Uh, I am home."

Jokingly, the boy scanned his apartment and though he saw some of your forgotten belongings from previous visits, he couldn't seem to pinpoint you. "That's weird, I don't see ya. You hiding somewhere?"

The laugh that erupts from your core at your sappy boyfriend is inescapable. Your shoulders quake as you snicker and Steve's never heard a sound so sweet. Mission accomplished. For now, anyway. "You're an idiot."

"For you, yeah," he retorts, "thought we already established that." The apples of your cheeks are growing sore as Steve's honeyed words denies your smile the chance to falter. Any inconvenience that was precedent to this very moment was long forgotten by virtue of the prince charming that was your boyfriend.

"I'll come see you soon, lover boy," you quipped.

"You makin' fun of me?" He was completely unoffended. Prior to the few weeks of you dating, Steve spent the better part of the past decade containing his cascading love for you behind the dire dam of the friendzone. Despite delay, the dam was broken and there was no playing "Mr. Cool Guy". Steve was crazy about you. And he'd be even crazier to not show it.

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," you teased. "I'm gonna head to bed, though. I have another shift in the mornin'. That damn Keith," you rolled your eyes, groaning as Steve laughed through his nose.

"Alright, sunshine, I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay," you glowed. "G'night, Stevie." You waited for him to respond with a "goodnight" of his own before returning the phone back to its base, already pining for your boyfriend's presence again. Though you poked fun at it, what Steve said about you not being "home" wasn't just him being sappy. You were feeling the same way.

No matter where you were, whether it was school, work, the arcade, shit, you could be in the Upside Down, but as long as Steve was there, you felt at home. It made you reflect on the times where you'd be lying in bed, unable to slip into a slumber as you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to go home, though geographically, that's exactly where you were. It was because you missed Steve. And any place where he was absent, was no home of yours.

Sauntering back into your bedroom and kicking away garments to clear a path, you cocooned your body into the blanket that was now stained with the scent of your burning candle, and continued from where you left off in your book. You figured you'd make some decent progress to hopefully avoid another late fee at the library.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It'd been forty minutes later, give or take, when you stood on sore legs, cleansing and moisturizing your face before calling it a night. Your dull eyes wore dark and heavy circles like a hideous skirt, a clear manifestation of the fatigue you were weathering. You rubbed at them unkindly with the hopes of looking even a little more lively, but to no avail.

The bulb of the bathroom went out like a flame once you flicked the switch off, and you abandoned the journey back to your room at the sound of a series of knocks to the front door. Clasping the opening of your robe with shaky hands, you wondered who could be here at this hour. You weren't expecting any visitors. Approaching the door with hushed footsteps, a miniscule view of none other than Steve Harrington could be seen through the peephole of your door.

The tension in your shoulders dissipated, ribs doing their best to cage your fluttering heart. You squealed, fingers fumbling with the lock and you could swear the metal thing had something against you, the way it stalled to unlatch. Steve smiled from the other side of the door as he watched the knob twist and jangle, warmed to know that you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you.

The brown lettering that labeled the white entryway '2F' swung out of view and Steve made eye contact with you for a split second before stumbling back a bit when you threw yourself into him.

Elevating yourself with the tips of your toes to reach him, you trapped his neck between your arms as he returned your hug with one arm, the other remaining properly tucked behind his back. "Hello to you too," he laughed breathlessly before briefly stamping a kiss to your shoulder.

"What're you doing here?" you buzzed, pressing little pecks to as much of his dotted skin as you could. You were suddenly a ball of energy. Finally at home. "When you said later, I thought you meant, like, tomorrow or something."

"Well, I missed you," a kiss to the corner of your mouth, "Wanted to come see ya."

The smile he wore carved thin lines into his cheeks as he spoke, walking your tangled bodies back into the quietude of your apartment. He stopped at your cutesy welcome mat, kicking his shoes off before revealing his arm that held a bouquet of just about the prettiest flowers you'd ever seen.

"Steve," you pouted, releasing your hold on his shoulders, "they're gorgeous." Cradling the peach hued roses dressed in a newspaper-style wrapping paper, your eyebrows scrunched together as you reminded yourself of the time. "What florist is open at 10 p.m.?"

The boy chuckled, locking the door behind him. The plaid pajama pants he wore swung loosely on his legs as he approached you. "There isn't," he ran fingers through his disheveled hair that was long overdue for a trim, "I saw them while I was out with the kids and I thought of you, so I got 'em." He shrugged like it was nothing.

"I was gonna surprise you with them at work tomorrow, but I figured I'd just give 'em to you now, ya' know, all things considered."

Heat rushed to your chest and face as you ogled him, filled with an overwhelming sense of luck to be his. Your feelings toward him felt so immense that at times, you could barely articulate yourself. Words of love and adoration raced through your mind a million miles a second yet you always found yourself terribly speechless.

Steve was so open with his affection for you. It’s a love people pray to experience at least once in their lifetime. And what a heaven-sent gift it was to earn that kind of love from Steve.

These would look perfect by the living room, you thought, turning to the kitchen to retrieve a vase after slipping him a fleeting kiss.

Scouring the white cabinets, you almost failed to remember that you didn't particularly own a vase, given the fact that you'd never actually received flowers before. The realization dejected you a bit.

Steve trailed behind you mindlessly, a frown weighing on his lips as he watched your shoulders droop. Leaning against the space on the counter next to you, he slid down a little, leveling with you, "What's wrong, honey?"

A mumbled, "I've never gotten flowers before," left a pang in his chest, your eyes never leaving the shelves of your cluttered cupboard. "Never needed a vase before."

It was now Steve's turn to slump his shoulders while he gazed at you with sad eyes. How could someone so lovely, so divine as you, not be treated the way you deserved? He would buy you flowers every day if you wanted and he had to bite his tongue when he almost cursed himself for not doing it already. But it's okay. He was here now.

Luring your waist into his body with those burly hands of his, he spoke with assurance laced in his voice, "Well, that's okay," he cooed. "Here, use one of these for now," he pulled a mug that you would've otherwise had trouble reaching, as it sat on the very top shelf, "and tomorrow we'll pick out a nice pretty vase for ya'."

Filling the black cup with water, he planted the roses down as neatly as he could. The flowers sat in the mug awkwardly, all splayed out with the stems way too long for your liking. But somehow, it still managed to be nothing short of perfect. "Cute, a little weird," you shrugged, a smile teasing your mouth, "but cute."

Steve chuckled lowly, situating himself between your legs once you sat on the surface of the tile countertop. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"I said the same about you when I first met you," he laughed, unable to contain his smile before getting the joke out. The face you made didn't help. "Shut up, Harrington," you jab at his shoulder softly, cracking a smile of your own.

Though there was a newfound romance, the typical banter that was mutually exchanged wasn't going anywhere. You were glad that nothing changed between you when you started dating.

Toying with the drawstrings on Steve's Gap hoodie, you began zoning out, the thought of going to bed while cuddled up with your boyfriend, sounding all too alluring. Looking up at him, he was already intently staring at you with painfully adoring eyes and you couldn't help but melt under his heated gaze. "Hi," you muttered, shyness clouding you.

"Hi, sunshine," he smiled, adjusting the collar of your robe with careful fingers. "I'm sorry your day sucked."

"It doesn't, anymore," you replied, sincerely. Steve's eyes lit up at that. It wasn't a secret to anyone that his presence alone seemed to be the antidote for some of your worst days. You'd even admitted it yourself, once or twice. But it never failed to ignite the nerves in Steve's body with fervor.

Although you were completely honest that your mood had gone up about ten octaves since he'd been there, Steve didn't want to just be there. He wanted to do more. It was what you deserved.

"You up for a little adventure?"

"Depends," you squinted. "What kinda adventure are we talking about?" He shifted his weight onto his other leg as his eyes veered off to the ceiling, thinking.

Steve happened to have a few tricks up his sleeve.

"There's somewhere I wanna take you," he drummed a rhythmless beat on your thigh with his fingers. The sneaky expression on Steve's face told you everything you needed to know. He was up to no good. As much as you wanted to go on a late night escapade with your boyfriend, you had to be somewhat, even a little, responsible.

"Steve, it's late and we both have work in the morning," you huffed, losing your grip on the strings you'd been distracting yourself with.

Steve playfully rolled his eyes, flinging his body out of your clutches dramatically. He was going to get you to cave. Whether you already knew it or not. "Alright, grandma, I promise to have you back home at a reasonable hour. Deal?"

The internal battle on whether you should stay or go was evident in your features, though, realistically you had already come to the conclusion that you'd humor him. The "grandma" bit is what really did it for you.

"This is a dumb idea."

"I'll be waiting by the car," he smiled an accomplished smile before leaving the kitchen. Letting out another sharp exhale, you hauled your body off the counter and headed towards your bedroom, discerning that a robe probably wasn't the dress code for wherever it was Steve was taking you.

Concealing your underlying tank top with a hoodie almost similar to Steve's, you threw on some sneakers before snuffing out the diminishing candle. Giving your appearance a once-over in the mirror, you wondered what you'd just gotten yourself into. Though any time with Steve was time well spent, you couldn't help but to look at your bed longingly as you shut off the lights to your apartment, meeting Steve outside.

He stood by the passenger side of the car, fiddling with a loose thread by the end of his sleeve. The fall season brought a night frigid breeze that blew his hair over his eyes like a curtain, making him pout. You hugged your body as you neared him, brushing his brown tresses from his face, though the wind reversed your efforts in no time.

He pressed a kiss to your palm as he became a puddle under your touch, appreciating the way your toasty hand felt against his icy skin. Steve took his own turn rubbing at your arms when he saw you visibly shiver, teeth nearly chattering. "You wanna tell me where we're goin'?" Misty clouds left short-lived trails in the air between the two of you when you spoke.

"Now where's the fun in spoiling the surprise now?" He opened the car door to punctuate his sentence, gesturing you inside. You could only rebut with a roll of your eyes as you entered, though you and Steve both knew you were loving every bit of this. It warmed your heart knowing he was so keen on saving your day from the horror it started it out to be.

Digging through the glove compartment, you sifted through old receipts and other rubbish that really needed to be thrown away, searching for the mixtape you and Steve made for little times like these. Moments that may now seem small, but would soon become memories that you'd cherish for years to come. It served as a little time capsule; hearing the songs you two carefully picked, easily transporting you to these times even when you'd become gray and old.

As Steve began driving off, your fingers found the sneaky cassette that was scribbled with yours and Steve's initials along with doodles of suns, to represent you, and poorly drawn anchors in honor of Steve's Scoop Ahoy era, to represent him.

Regardless of Steve's slight disdain for that period of time, it was one of your favorites and obviously that was due to the fact that the uniform he wore, showed off his legs in the best way possible. It was the perfect eye candy that summer.

The low sound of Bob Marley singing Could You Be Loved floated through the quietness of the car, easing away any tension within you that might've still been trapped. You admired the way the town was so still. The time was hardly 11 p.m., yet there wasn't a soul to be seen; only lonely litter that drifted through the breeze, aimlessly. It was a stark difference from just a few hours ago when you had to dodge shoulders as you cut through the crowded streets on your way home.

The sky was dark and empty apart from the glowing crescent moon that seemed to be chasing you as you drove. It was the only light source you had aside from the street lights that lined the sidewalks. You started counting them and even got to as far as nineteen, but soon lost count once Steve picked up his speed a bit.

Your eyelids threatened to close as the calming drive coupled with the music, fought to lull you to sleep. But instead, bright neon lights stung your sensitive eyes that grew accustomed to the darkness. Squinting, you read the colorful sign labeled "Darling's Diner", and nostalgia strikes you. It had been years. Too many years since you and Steve had been here last.

"Holy shit," you glimmered, hurriedly unbuckling your seatbelt. Steve's hand that found comfort on your thigh during the ride gave it a squeeze before he put the car in park, rushing over to open your car door. He took your hand in his, adoring the way your stunned face gleamed under the glow of the pink and blue neon bulbs. "Surprise," he cheered in a low tone, lightly bumping his shoulder against yours.

The smile you had burned your cheeks but the elation you felt made it all too easy to ignore. The feeling you got whenever you came to Darling's was something indescribable. There were countless fond memories attached to this place and it left you all soft and gooey inside to know that Steve planned on making more with you here. Instinctively, you practically dragged Steve behind you as you rushed inside, the homey scent of burgers, fries, and shakes wafting to your nose.

The floors were still the black and white checkered tiles you remembered them to be; stained with drops of grease and sprinkled with deserted fries. Walls were not much neater, though they were messy with posters and vinyl records instead.

"Want the usual?" Your nod was immediate and shortly after, Steve approached the busy woman impatiently pressing buttons on the register. Wisps of hair fell out of her ponytail and clung onto the film of sweat developing across her forehead. She visibly shrunk into herself as she heard the bell above the door ring, signaling new customers. It was a much busier night than usual.

Regardless of the surge of patrons, the booth you and Steve usually sat in once upon a time, wasn't occupied. The wears and tears corroding the red leather almost served as a name tag, assigning the seat for you two. It was impossible to forget the days Steve came here with you after school, carelessly doing homework while listening to whatever song played on the jukebox.

The table was tidy apart from laminated menus and coloring sheets scattered across the surface. You smirked thinking of the times you and Steve swore you could be the next Picassos, the way you took those things so seriously. As if they'd be hung in museums, you did your best to color them, but not without the added challenge of switching papers with Steve every few minutes. A fun little game you played.

Colored pencils sat by the condiments and you made yourself busy adding hue to the Back to the Future poster, sliding Steve a sheet with some random sports car you didn't know the name of, when he made his way over. He traded you with a cup of hot cocoa with jumbo marshmallows that threatened to abandon ship. "Thanks, Stevie."

"Anytime," he smiled, biting at the cherry that was kissed with a touch of the whipped cream that sat atop of his strawberry milkshake. His long legs brushed against yours as he sat next to you, knees finding mutual rest against each other.

A waitress on pink roller skates offered a kind smile as she brought over a basket of fries that Steve and you snacked on while you chatted and giggled, coloring your own and each other's papers as time seemingly flew by.

"How long has it been since we've last been here?"

"I couldn't tell you. Anything before senior year is such a blur," you responded, adding finishing touches to Steve's car before taking the last sip of your now barely hot, hot chocolate. "I'm just sad we stopped coming here."

"Me too," he swung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for an apologetic kiss to your temple. "But I promise to bring you a little more often. It was our spot when we were kids and it'll be our spot now."

You looked at him with bright eyes while hugging his torso, despite the awkward position. Trying to understand what you did to deserve someone like Steve was a dead mission, as you could never fully wrap your head around it. How does one try to understand why they've gotten so lucky?

He kissed away the marshmallow mustache idling on your upper lip before tapping your leg twice, "C'mon, we've got one more stop to make."

The spot he sat in was quickly losing its fever as he stood, holding a hand out for you to take, but you just stared at him with a face that was an odd marriage of scolding and amusement. "Steve," you warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you can yell at me about it later. But I promise you'll love it." Waving his hand to urge yours into his, you accepted it with little hesitation at his grin. You wished the woman at the front a good night as you left the bistro, while Steve dropped a tip in the jar next to her.

He didn't let your hand go until you were sat in the passenger seat, subsequently getting behind the steering wheel, inserting the key in the ignition. You could tell Steve was tired too, the way he full-body stretched as he yawned, rubbing at his eyes that were getting a bit red from fatigue. He wanted to go to bed and cuddle and forget about the world just as much as you did. So why were you still out there?

"What's all this for, Harrington?"

He answered your question with another one of his own, "What's all of what for?"

"Tonight. Everything. The flowers, the diner, and now something else. I'm really grateful for it, don't get me wrong," you warmed his hand when you held it, "but why so much?"

Steve shrugged, averting his gaze to the gear shift sitting between you two. He softly rubbed at your knuckles while he gathered his thoughts.

"Well, you told me that you had a shit day. Just wanted to change that. I like when you're happy."

Your throat felt like it was closing in on itself and your chest stung when tears pricked at your eyes. Steve looked back at you affectionately, the voice of his eyes telling you just how much he cared for you. It made your heart so full. It was too much to handle sometimes.

"I like when you're happy too, Stevie," you beamed, blinking away the pool by your bottom eyelashes. Cupping his cheek, you pushed your plump lips against his that were a little chapped, though you didn't seem to mind at all. Reluctantly, you pull away and Steve doesn't think it was nearly long enough as he sneaks in a few extra pecks.

The drive to wherever on Earth it was that Steve was taking you, was much different compared to the one prior. It almost didn't look like Hawkins. For the past couple miles, Steve's burgundy BMW had been the only car on the road. The trees were taller, a darker green and stronger in numbers than the ones you were used to. The street lamps were less abundant and dimmer than usual, and the animal crossing signs told you that you were more than just a little ways from home.

You had almost said something until Steve pulled off to the side, parking the car on an empty hill just off the road that overlooked Hawkins and the neighboring city. It looked so small from here. Steve smirked at the puzzled expression you threw his way as you removed your seatbelt.

"Before you ask, just come outside. There's something I wanna show you."

You didn't bother waiting for Steve to open the door for you, as you stepped out, attempting to conjure up what he could possibly be wanting to show you out here. There was nothing to be seen but dirt and fallen leaves and branches. "What exactly am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Look up," he responded, leaning against the hood of the car.

Your furrowed eyebrows relaxed as a gasp fell from your lips at the sight of the cloudless sky, lighting up with numerous twinkling stars, an image you could only dream of seeing for yourself since you were a little girl. The mighty city that sat so close to Hawkins fostered light pollution that made it nearly impossible to see the stars at night. If you were lucky, you were only able to make out about one or two, though you weren't sure if they had been stars or planets, instead. Either way, it ignited your soul to be able to see such a bright and beautiful piece of the universe, making you feel so small in the best way possible.

That didn't nearly amount to this very moment though, where there were more stars that you could count, sitting so prettily in the midnight sky.

Mouth still agape, you utter, "Steve, it's beautiful," and other than that, you were rendered speechless. You couldn't dare to tear your eyes from it, worried that if you did, it would all disappear, proving to be a mere hallucination from your tiredness. Steve adored the way you stared at the heavens, noticing the way it was the same way you looked at him. All he could see was a clear reflection of the stars in your eyes, and it perfectly spoke to the way he felt about you.

He saw everything when he looked at you. The sun, the moon, the stars, the universe, even the galaxy. His past, his present, his future. All of it. To him, you encompassed everything beautiful and divine. He was convinced you were too good for this planet. Too extraordinary. How did he get so lucky?

"Look," you pointed at two stars that sat close to one another, shining impossibly brighter than the others, "do you think that's us in another universe?"

Steve smiled at your question, cherishing how whimsical you could be sometimes. Your voice was soft and full of wonder and he couldn't be more content in this moment. "Yeah," he nodded at you, "I'm yours in every universe, sunshine." He kissed the back of your hand, holding your intertwined hands against his chest.

"Y'know I was thinking to myself the other day about how weird relationships are," he stated, looking down at his feet. You peeled your eyes away from the sky, gazing at your boyfriend for the first time since you stepped out of the car. "Weird, how?"

"I don't know, like how you randomly meet someone and get to know them really well and one day just decide, 'I like this human. I'm gonna spend all my time with them and take care of them.' Maybe weird isn't the word, but it's definitely interesting," he rambled, talking with his hands, even the one that was still laced through yours.

You nodded along, understanding where he was coming from. It was something you'd thought about yourself. He continued, "Like, I look at us and how far we've come and it scares me a little 'cause I see how my parents are now. They were best friends before they got married and now I can count on only one hand the amount of times I've seen them hug or kiss. Freaks me out."

This was one of the few times Steve spilled what was weighing on his mind. You could always tell when something bothered him and though he'd give you bits and pieces when you asked what was wrong, it was never anything as nuanced as this. It made you proud to see him develop so much.

"We're not them, Steve. It's like you said, I'm yours in every universe. Maybe they aren't each others every universe," you sighed, "We won't end up like them, I promise"

You always knew how to reassure him. It was one of the things Steve loved so much about you; your way with words. Nothing sort of a poet, he thought. He engulfed your face with his palms, kissing you with every ounce of passion he had.

Lowly in the background, you could hear the song Just the Two of Us by Grover Washington, as the mixtape was still playing in his car. "It's our song," you smiled against his lips when you pulled away. You took his hands from your face, grasping them when you asked him, "Dance with me?"

He nodded, holding your body against his as your head fell against his chest, looking down at the sleeping town that felt so far away. You swayed back and forth, finding comfort in the near silence, listening to the rhythmic beating of Steve's heart. "Thank you for this, Steve," you whispered. "I'm lucky to be yours."

"Even if you weren't, I'd still do it for you," he admitted, running hand across your back, tenderly.

The little sentence made you think. Steve has been in your life for well over a decade now and he never failed to be there for you even when you didn't know how to ask for it. He was the one who took care of you whenever you found it a little difficult to take care of yourself. The one who never dared to leave your side.

You and Steve were in love even before you were. You'd been celestial even before this.

"I love you, sunshine," he murmured, head resting on top of yours.

"I love you back, Stevie."

💌 1 new message from jojo: pls pls pls comment/reblog (or both teehee) if you enjoyed, it means a lot! inbox is open!

[slippinninque]

📑Ongoing📒

Alex Cross x Blackfemreader

Warnings: cursing, angst, misunderstandings, attempted break up, friends w benefits, hopeful ending, long fic

“You’re done running from me?”

The sound of him made you twitch as your concentration broke.

“Now…you know no one could hear you scream down here, right?”

You didn’t look away from the binder in front of you. After clipping a few pages of reports together as a place marker to resume your scanning. Once you had the rest of the necessary paperwork, it would be time for download. When you heard neither a response or your door closing, you took down your top knot of locs to release some pressure.

“I suppose that was rude. What can I help you with, Detective Cross?

“Can you look at me?”

His tone triggered one of your last nerves. You flicked your highlighter down onto your desk and leaned up against the wood as you faced him, brows popped as you snapped, “Anything else?”

Alex stood there with his crossed before him, dressed in the sort of sweater that had you skirting your eyes away to remain strong.

The silence stretched on between you until Alex chuffed, still not drawing your attention until he spoke.

“You really aren’t going to talk to me?”

“I asked you–

He took a few steps forward, deliberately and you stopped. The two of you stared some more before he tried again. The only witnesses to your dance were the folders, binders, journals, loose reports that's been been keeping you company during your Cross-Detox.

“I’m not talking about anything in this room.” He said voice low but level, “I’m talking about what I’m sure you saw about a week ago.”

Back to your binders. You turned and tried to refocus yourself. Martha Willborough’s cold case has been fortunately solved, due to a distant cousin’s deathbed confession of all things. The family wanted to pull the case and review the evidence in hopes of getting some closure but preferred it be digitized for easier handling.

“A lot has been going on in the last few weeks, to my defense but��

Alex came closer and you had to stop yourself from running. You knew Alex would never hurt you but if he got his hands on you, it would be game over. He was onto you.

“I want to explain that what you saw with Elle, that was…complicated.”

“You don’t have to explain a hug to me, Detective.” You reached for your highlighter in a desperate attempt to run down excess energy, “Besides, this mutual beneficial situation we have got–”

“Baby–”

“It’s best that we stop this, anyway. For good, all the way through.”

His eyes widened and he was suddenly striding towards you. Alex only followed you when you low-key moved around to the other side of the desk. Frustrated, he stilled and so did you. On opposite sides of the desk–it was easier this way but you could see him itching to get closer. On different sort of night, this sort of game would have excited you...

“I think we should talk about this, I’m so sorry that it happened, that you saw it–”

“It’s fine.” You said flatly, actually relishing the burn of the memory of them together. Alex made a placating gesture, just wanting your ear as he continued.

“It's not fine. Elle and I–we’ve been over for a while. Very much so when you and I began...seeing each other,” Alex paused, “She’s still close with Jannie and they were having a girls night. There were drinks after the kids went to bed–-it was only the hug, while I was walking her to the car. It was just the one time.”

You didn’t care, you didn’t care, you didn’t care, “You should be with her, Alex.”

Alex rocked on his feet and his arms snapped folded across his chest. You shrugged and knocked a bit on the wooden desk below. Alex had nothing say apparently to your comment but the look on his face said enough.

“I…believe you about the hug, okay? What I said, it’s just the truth, Alex. Not looking to be pitied –or psyched.” You said quietly, looking away as you swallowed, “I’m not warm, understand? I’m hot or cold. All or nothing. With what you have in your life…you need warmth.”

Turning away to straighten up the line of binders on your desk and you stared at the hard oak as your vision waved, “You need her. Not me.”

A woman who was kind all the time and knew just what to say when needed most. The kind of influence who could get him out of his head, not chase down the madness with him. To be soft enough to melt into the warm parts of Alex's life.

He nodded as he took in what you said “Are you going to let me tell you what I think I need?

“Alex–”

“So, you aren’t even giving me a chance to fight for this–

Your hands came down hard onto the table and the noise echoed as you stared at your spread fingers. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be but it was always the same in the end.

All this time you’ve spent building your walls, putting up your fences and steeling yourself to sever the bond–Alex comes and finds a front door with a fucking welcome mat.

“Just…please. No more back and forth, okay? Let’s just accept the ending.”

“I won't.”

Somehow, Alex’s touch was gentler than his voice. His hands came to your shoulders but you ducked away, he caught you again and met your glare.

He stood before you as if he had already had an answer to every little thing you could say.

This man…

“Why don’t you accept it, Detective? Hm? ‘Cause you can’t leave one case cold–not one lead unchased? Tell me why you won't accept this.”

Alex didn’t even flinch at the sight of your bared teeth or the way you reached up to dig your nails into his elbows.

“Because I can see it.” He said, “I see you at the coffee machine in the morning. I see you sitting on the back porch at night,” Alex spoke louder and over your protests, “I see you fucking up Nana’s garden, I see you dancing with the kids.”

He caught your tears in the cups of his hands just as they fell, “I see you with me, baby.”

The words landed hard into your heart, you went to pull away but Alex followed with that damned warmness of his.

“I know why you’re scared. I know…I know I haven’t made it easy for you, either. All this time together acting like I don't know what I feel for you, giving in to the flow because it's easy…” Alex trailed off into a soft grunt, “I'm done missing you, now. I want it all.”

“There isn't anything else– that's why I'm tryin’ to tell you.”

“You don't see what I do, that's alright,” Alex’s hand went running down your neck to keep your gaze on him, “I know you can see that I care for you, even if it gets on your nerves. Even if it makes you want to bolt.”

“Don't psych me, Cross.”

“Then tell me what's in your head. I know why you got spooked, but tell me why you stayed away.” Alex insisted sudden, making you want to squirm.

Not liking the direction, not liking the knots tightening in from your throat to your stomach–you tried retreating once more.

Alex apparently had enough and brought you into a proper hug, your arms caught between as the final wall fell away. Your tears came as it felt like your heart split open. Confusion, embarrassment, relief–everything spilled from your eyes and mouth as you confessed.

It wasn't even a kiss, that was the stupid thing about it. Seeing Elle cradled so perfectly in Alex's arms in the middle of the sidewalk, in their own little world–they looked so good together.

It made the bottle you brought feel heavy and childish, the idea to surprise Alex with a request for that long awaited poker lesson felt awkward. You should have considered the hour, the fact he had children–a life outside of chasing shadows.

It was so sudden and felt so clear. Your place in Alex's life, the one you stumbled upon, it was no longer enough for you but you couldn't give any more.

At the time, you turned and ran.

Once you were done, Alex held you still. He didn't undermine your worries or rib you about your conflicting heart, none of your worst case scenarios came true.

You stayed running until the inevitable happened–Alex caught up to you. Even after 10 days of chasing and evading, not minding your cold fronts and heated retorts after insisting that you were too busy to meet. Now that everything was on the table, you felt an odd sort of release. You had nowhere left to run, couldn't reach for anything that could distract you.

“I'm…I'm out of my depth, Alex. I don't know what to ask for…”

“I want to make time to talk. Really talk. I think we both want to make some things clearer,” Alex said, “What do you say to a stiff drink and honest words after work?”

His sweater was wet beneath your cheek and you croaked into the fabric, “Sure…”

Alex's hand cupped the back of our head and he used his height to lean into you, tucking you closer with his free arm winding around your waist.

Anyone could could walk in, anyone could see and it wouldn't be easy to explain away. You tried to hold onto the meaning in your surroundings but it was hard when it felt like you could finally breathe again.

“Just a little longer,” Alex whispered as if he had a direct line to your mind, “Then I'll get the hell out of your office…”

Quietly, you trusted him and closed your eyes.

-------------------

✨ending notes:✨ this one fought me a bit lmao! Tell me what you think, because I am loving Aldis as Mr. Alex Cross 😌 tysm for reading! Please comment and reblog, tell me what ya think!

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[pluckyredhead]

The Lost Titans in Canon: Rose and Eddie

Hello, friends! Are you ready to get your heart broken?

Rose and Eddie both joined the Titans during the 2006 One Year Later gap (when every DC book jumped one year ahead after Infinite Crisis) and first appeared on the team in #34 of the 2003 Teen Titans series. They're already buddies, at least enough to...hang out in the kitchen together, not facing each other and throwing oranges on the floor? This art is baffling:

What mind-bogglingly prudish teenager instituted that swear jar, let alone decided that "damn" was enough to qualify?

We later learn that Rose vouched for Eddie to get him on the team, apparently two seconds after having met him. Rose herself was on the team because Dick asked Tim to give her a chance.

Eddie is already protective of Rose, like when Cassie, uh...punches Rose hard enough to give her a nosebleed for the crime of being annoying.

Guys, you should...you should probably quit this team. I know it's just your first issue, but yikes.

Their second issue features a drunk Rose climbing into Tim's bed and trying to seduce him, and then Cassie showing up and everyone attacking everyone else, and then Marvin hitting on Cassie (I'm glad you're dead, Marvin), and it's pretty much just trash all around.

But it also features this moment:

Eddie has never recovered and NEITHER HAVE I.

Rose then confesses that she's afraid that the Titans will kick her off the team, since Tim doesn't really want her or Eddie around, just his real friends. (I could write a thesis on how Rose is afraid of being kicked out so she deliberately tries to provoke them into kicking her out, but this isn't the time.)

She hides it better, but Rose has never recovered from this, either.

Then Eddie gets hurt and Rose pulls they "Stay with me!" trope:

It has only been two issues! They're obsessed with each other!

But Rose warns him off:

Eddie continues to be ride or die for Rose, defending her when she's accused (falsely) of being a traitor to the team, and protecting her when his own dystopian future self shows up and tries to kill her. Also, Jaime joins the team and Eddie is wildly jealous of how much Rose seems to like him:

Rose 100% knows Eddie's right there and is doing this to make him jealous, btw. This is extremely explicit in the issue. She doesn't actually care about Jaime one way or the other (and Jaime tells her very clearly that he has a girlfriend).

Meet Rose Wilson! She has absolutely no idea how to cope with liking a sweet boy who is nice to her, so she spends an entire issue trying to make him jealous and making fun of him in a way that's genuinely mean! Oh, honey, no.

Between Rose blowing hot and cold, Tim and Cassie being just incredibly nasty to Eddie all the time for no reason, and the trauma of, you know, having sold his soul to the devil and being functionally orphaned and all, Eddie makes a very bad decision. He invites a bunch of civilian teens to Titans Tower, where they promptly run amuck. The Titans are furious, and Eddie is left feeling completely friendless and about an inch from being kicked off the team completely.

That's when he's approached by the Terror Titans, a team of teenage edgelords led by the Clock King, who DC was trying to make into a cool scary villain by having him *checks notes* fuck teenage girls and constantly murder people on-page as gorily as possible. This whole storyline is trying so, so hard to be cool and edgy but it's just incredibly tiresome.

Anyway Eddie recognizes that actually all these people suck, and refuses to join them and betray the Titans. So they kidnap him and Clock King proceeds to torture him.

Meanwhile, the Terror Titans attack Titans Tower. The only people there are Wendy and Marvin, who are non-combatants, and Rose. Rose defeats every member of the Terror Titans, gets Wendy and Marvin to safety, and then, beat to hell, walks back into Titans Tower to fight the Terror Titans again. Why?

THEY'VE GOT EDDIE.

Rose drags herself back into the Tower, hurt and bleeding, to beat Eddie's location out of the Terror Titans. It's such a good gender reversal of this trope, where the damsel in distress is an eldritch horror and the grizzled warrior coming to his rescue is a teenage girl. The execution of every single bit of this story is absolutely awful and unreadably stupid, but the idea in there is so good! Theoretically!

The Terror Titans manage to escape Rose's wrath, but Rose follows them to where Eddie is being kept: an underground cage fighting ring for captured teenage metas. The Teen Titans also realize what's happening and show up to rescue Eddie as well.

Rose saves Cassie's life and defeats Clock King, but Cassie is still like "Rose is crazy and dangerous and shouldn't be on the team" and Tim's like "Hm maybe you're right"...and Rose overhears.

Meanwhile, Eddie learns that Rose went apeshit when he was kidnapped, and is thrilled because maybe this means he has a chance! He shows up with flowers...

...and Rose is already gone. She's quit the team.

Rose is gone for about ten issues (she temporarily joins the Terror Titans, which is as unbearably stupid as you might imagine), and during that time, Eddie loses his powers and becomes just a regular guy. And then Rose makes her glorious return:

AND EDDIE LITERALLY SWOONS.

But Rose is not okay. She's becoming addicted to huffing adrenaline to enhance her precognitive abilities [insert eyeroll here]. Eddie, of course, is the one who notices:

I love that first panel in the last row. They've moved past the point where Rose can pretend she doesn't care about Eddie and Eddie can't tell the difference. The intimacy of that line (and that touch) - he knows her, and he's telling her so. UGH MY HEART.

Rose gets into another fight with Cassie, and it convinces her that she doesn't belong on the Titans. And, she argues, neither does Eddie, who has no powers and no training.

AND THEN THIS PAGE HAPPENS AND I HAVE NEVER RECOVERED:

Rose leaves. Eddie stays. And in the very next storyline, he dies. YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE WITH HER, EDDIE!

I'm not going to recount Eddie's death because I've done that already, but during this time, Rose had a backup solo feature in the Teen Titans book, and it included her hallucinating conversations with various characters. The last hallucination is of Eddie:

The next page is his last line: "...but that doesn't mean you'll never get another chance someday..." She doesn't know he's already dead. I WEEP. I WEEP ETERNALLY.

And that's pretty much the end of the canon Rose/Eddie story. Rose returned to the Titans in the next issue, but there's no scene of her learning or acknowledging Eddie's death - iirc she never mentions him again, which honestly I feel like is pretty in character. Her grief is private.

The comics Rose and Eddie appear in together are objectively awful. But somehow there's still a really compelling and heartbreaking little almost-romance in there, and now that Eddie's back in canon, I'd love to see someone at DC remember this couple, because they are so, so good together. (And imo much more interesting that Jason and Rose, who are functionally the same person and work better as two halves of the Eddie Bloomberg Defense Squad.)

Anyway if you also think they're neat, I wrote a sequel to The Lost Titans about them! You should read it: Five Couches Eddie (Tried to) Crash on After He Was Rescued from Hell (and One Time He Went Home).

[spdrvyn]

better than snow: MIGUEL O’HARA

summary: have a merry christmas morning! you're groggy and experiencing a mild headache, but it's all worth it especially when you walk into the living room only to see your munch of a boyfriend.

fluff. suggestive. in typical vyn fashion, this is late YAHOO but merry christmas to everyone! i hope you all enjoyed your holidays because i very much did hehe, this fic is inspired by this fanart so go check it out! merrily we fall out of line out of line

You were a merry mess.

There was no such thing as partying too hard, but you thought that you'd never actually reach such a feat until last night. Hell, you didn't even remember falling asleep on the bed.

Don't get anything twisted, you had a lot of fun with Miguel and "coworkers" last night. That's what he liked to call them anyway, you know for sure he wouldn't invite regular subordinates to his home with you to have the craziest Christmas party known to man.

The tanginess of the copious amounts of whiskey you had was still on your tongue, your eyelids still weighed down by the very little sleep that you got. The sun wasn't entirely up yet, orangey hues barely visible through the blinds of the room.

You shivered as the cold hit your bare legs, these were definitely not the clothes you fell asleep in either. You looked down to see a t-shirt that very well reached up to just above your thigh, it was only safe to assume that you made a huge mess of yourself previously and even safer to assume that Miguel would save you by changing you into one of his shirts.

The choice of clothing isn't even necessary, you have clean shirts, but Miguel likes seeing you in his clothes so you weren't going to complain. Besides, it smells and somehow feels like him.

That didn't really help the fact that you were freezing, Nueva York and its deadly temperatures during winter season. You dug through the closet to find big enough blanket to carry, you weren't insane enough to drag the whole comforter of your bed around the flat.

When you entered the living room, the soft crackling noises of a fire the first thing you heard. Each piece of confetti, liquid, and dirty surface had then been wiped clean.

Though, that wasn't the only detail that had you baffled.

The moment your head turned, you could feel your heart stop beating in your chest, your breath slowing down, your blood run cold. Miguel was right there and he wasn't wearing anything else except for his briefs, you could see everything.

Smooth skin, a toned stomach, massive arms shielded by nothing, and the trail of hair that goes down to his even bigger—

"Merry Christmas," he uttered, you nearly choked. Right, right. He's in front of you. Shirtless. No! Act normal, act natural.

"Uh, Merry Christmas." the need for your little blanket lessened even more, this sight was enough to warm you up for the rest of the morning nay rest of the day. Your eyes moved to the mug in his hands that was still steaming hot, he reached it out to you in a silent question if you wanted any but you declined with a shake of your head.

With that, he gulped down the rest of his drink. As he set the mug down on the table, he gestured for you to follow him to which you immediately followed. He sat you down on one of the armchairs, his eyes raked over how you looked now. Bed hair, fingers clutched onto the blanket for dear life, flushed cheeks that you probably didn't know you had. Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.

He grabbed a present from the Christmas tree before it's presented to you, you tried to study the stern look on his face but if there's one thing you knew about Miguel, it would he how good he was at hiding how excited he was.

You unraveled the present to be met with a language book on how to speak Japanese, you noted the way two slips of paper bookmarked a specific page and when you opened it, you were delighted.

Two plane tickets to Tokyo, Japan and when you read the page that they were slotted into, it's how to say "I love you" in Japanese.

愛してます. Aishitemasu.

Your heart swelled, when you looked back to Miguel, he had the softest smile on his face.

"I'm going on leave for at least a week, we leave in two days."

"Oh, Miguel— this is—"

Unable to find the words for exactly how happy you were, you couldn't do anything more except grab him by his shoulders and kiss him breathless. Passionate was an understatement, you acted as if you were going to steal each breath from his lungs to which he'd let you if you truly desired it.

You've never received a gift this big before, never gone a trip with just you and another person. This is a first time experience for you and you're more than happy about the fact that you're going to be sharing those future memories with Miguel, you wouldn't choose anyone else over him.

When you separated, you both panted into each other's mouths. Miguel had you pushed you back into the armrest, the blanket too close to slipping off your ahoulders.

"I don't want to spend a moment away from you," he took one of your hands and pressed a chaste kiss to your wrist. His other hand slithered down to your lower back now to your bottom before giving it a firm squeeze. "What I want is to love, kiss, and cherish you in every possible. Will you let me? Corazón?"

There was only one answer.

There would only ever be one answer.

"Yes."

[eddies-ashtray]

SCARS ♡ Eddie Munson x GN!Reader 

gif source

Main Masterlist ♡ Blurb Masterlist

Synopsis: About three months after the demo-bat attack on Eddie, the scars left on his body by the bats remain a source of great insecurity for him. You try to convince him of his beauty in any way you can. 

WC: 3.0K

Category: Hurt/comfort & fluff + a dash of smut (18+, MINORS DNI).

Content: Established relationship, mentions and light description of Eddie’s scars, discussion of Eddie being insecure about his scars, reader comforts Eddie, body worship, praise, lots of kisses, teasing.

A/N: This is an AU in which they’ve succeeded in killing Vecna, Eddie still got attacked by the demo-bats, but lived and his trailer is also still intact. Happy reading! 

♡*♡*♡

Eddie was like a furnace all year round. In the winter months you’d snuggle up next to him on the couch while you watched movies, often tucking your cold feet underneath his warm thighs, you’d stay tucked under his arm soaking up his warmth as you walked into school together. And when arriving at his trailer and escaping from the chilly December bite, you’d rush straight into his arms, spending a minimum of two minutes making him warm you up. 

The point is, the boy ran hot. And while this was an advantage for the both of you when the temperatures dropped (though mostly you–since it gave you an excuse to glom onto him like a koala to a tree), the summer months were hell for him. To compensate, he frequently wore his frizzy hair up and sported short athletic shorts and tank tops, cut off t-shirts, and often no shirt at all if he could help it. Much like his warmth in cooler temperatures, this was also a benefit to you–albeit in a very different way. 

Although he took the appropriate measures to ensure that he stayed as cool as possible throughout the summer, this did not spare you of his complaining. He really tried to resist, but when there were 90 degree days you’d spend in your friends backyards or strolling around the zoo or riding bikes to the corner store for slushies, he’d slip into the habit. 

But this summer something changed. The complaining suddenly stopped. There was no dramatic sighing or fanning himself with homemade paper fans. No begging to find someplace with air conditioning, or at least a place to sit in the shade. No theatrical comments about how he was about to die any second from dehydration. Nothing. 

And while you were glad of the reprieve from his complaining—which, in all honesty, didn’t bother you that much anyway—, you knew something was up. Especially since the absence of his complaints was also accompanied by an abandonment of his usual summer attire. 

He traded in tank tops for long-sleeves and those tiny, red athletic shorts (that you thought made his ass look spectacular) for sweatpants or jeans. Like the weather had no effect on him anymore. But you knew it did; you could see how flushed his face would become and the beads of sweat forming on his brow even while seated in front of a fan in his trailer. 

You suspected you knew what was going on, but you weren’t sure how to broach the subject.

So near the end of June, 1986 as you and Eddie are spending a lazy afternoon on his porch—Eddie reading a book on the porch couch and you making friendship bracelets at his feet—you ask him:

“Hey, where are those red shorts you have? You know, the ones that when you wear them I always make you walk in front of me.” You waggle your brows at him suggestively. 

You’d tipped your head back so it rested on the sofa cushion right next to his left thigh so you could look up at him, and almost absentmindedly, Eddie’s hand had begun to stroke your cheekbone lovingly. But he didn’t catch your eyes, instead his remain glued to the page. He doesn’t react to your borderline salacious comment (just another action that’s out of character for him), but simply turns the page of his book. 

“In one of my drawers…Or maybe in the closet, I don’t know,” he responds. He’s wearing a black long sleeve with tour dates on the back and a Dio logo on the front with light-coloured jeans. It was 88 degrees today and humid with absolutely no breeze, the kind of sticky heat that can make you feel like you’re suffocating if you’re outside for too long. 

You frown and try again. “What about your cropped shirts? I miss those.” It’s then he stops stroking your cheek. 

Eddie huffs, annoyed, and drops his folded paperback into his lap before finally looking at you. “Why are you asking me about my clothes? Worry about your own.” 

Eddie rarely gets so defensive or lashes out (which is probably too harsh a phrase for what he’s done just now, but he’s clearly irritated) at you unless there’s something deeper going on. He tries to hide things if he’s ashamed or embarrassed of them, but his feelings end up coming to the surface to manifest in other ways. 

A child with pigtails on a faded blue tricycle coasts by then, ringing the silver bell affixed to the handlebars, and a woman (who you presume to be her mother) strolls not more than three paces behind. 

It’s then that you stand from the wood floor, abandoning your half-finished bracelet with the loose threads hanging off the end on the couch beside Eddie. 

He looks up at you just as you grab his hand, and pull him inside, continuing to pull him along the hall to his bedroom where you get him to sit on the end of his bed. 

Eddie has a guilty look on his face, brows knit together and eyes soft. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” He drags a hand down his face, now frustrated with himself. 

You tilt your head at him then and gently grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He’s warm. His eyes are apologetic and tired as they stare into yours. 

“It’s okay. I think I know what’s going on.” You sit down on the bed next to him, holding his slightly sweaty hand in yours. “But I want you to tell me.” 

You’re looking at him, but much like earlier he avoids your gaze. He’s focusing on a small dark spot on the carpet, likely from sometime when he’d dropped a cigarette on the floor. 

He looks defeated. It makes your chest ache. You squeeze his hand. 

“They’re just…they’re everywhere,” He says quietly, shamefully, and he still can’t look at you as he says it. Like it’s a dirty confession. Like you hadn’t known. Like you hadn’t seen them, hadn’t seen how he got them. 

The scars, barely three months old, touch everywhere from the sensitive skin of his belly and thighs, to the muscle of his biceps and crawl down his forearm. He’s even got some hiding just beneath his collar, that creep up around his shoulders where they stop before they reach his back. 

You’re formulating a response to his statement, but before you can speak, Eddie continues: “I was already so easy to pick apart. Y’know. The hair, the clothes. And I was mostly fine with it. But this-this just gives them another reason to stare, another reason to point and say, ‘hey, there’s the freak.’” He utters the insult with such venom you flinch. 

With your free hand, you tenderly guide his face to look up from the carpet and at you, and your hand drops to his knee. You don’t even have to think of what to say. 

“You know what I think when I see them?” You ask, and Eddie shakes his head. “I think about the fact that you survived. They’re a reminder that you still have a body that can scar…that you’re alive.” 

Eddie scoffs lightly, disbelieving, and looks away again. “You can’t mean that-you-” But you cut him off, forcing him to look at you again. Your other hand moves from his knee, to cover the top of his hand that’s holding your right one. 

“I would rather you be covered head to toe in scars than not be here at all,” You tell him fiercely, making sure to hold his gaze as you say it. 

Something changes in his eyes then; they go glassy and tender. You’ve begun to break through, if only by a small amount. At least, he believes that you believe what you’ve said, even if he doesn’t believe it himself yet. 

Still, he screws his face up slightly at the image, but then lays his head on your shoulder. 

He sniffles. “Thank you.” 

You wish he could see himself now how you see him, think about himself what you think about him. You try a different route. 

“They’re metal,” You say, bringing the hand that was once grasping his, up his back to lightly scratch at his scalp. “Ozzy would be jealous.” 

At this, Eddie gives a weak laugh, and you can feel his shoulders shaking with it. 

You’re not sure how else you can convince him of his beauty. You’re not sure if that’s possible. Maybe all you can do is show him in your own way, in every way you can, that you love him, scars and all. Maybe then, over time, he’ll come to feel at least neutral about them. To not speak of them with such hatred, to simply be content that they are there and come to peace with the fact that they will never go away. 

With that thought, you stand from the bed, and Eddie looks up at you, eyes shining with unshed tears. From there, you reach down and slowly begin to pull at the hem of his shirt, a question. Is this okay? 

When he raises his arms, you proceed, and tug his long sleeve over his head, letting it fall to the carpet. This reveals the pale expanse of his chest and stomach, marked by rippled scars pressed into his flesh. They’re more pink than red now since they’ve mostly healed, but they take up as much space as they had the day the demo-bats sunk their teeth into him.

Then, you gently press against his chest until he gets the memo and lays back, legs hanging off the end of the bed with his feet still planted on the floor. 

Climbing on top of him to straddle his hips, you lean down, hands pressed lightly against his chest and softly place your first kiss to the small-ish scar (at least in comparison to the others– which can be about the size of large dinner plates) by his collarbone. 

“What’re doing?” Eddie asks the ceiling, voice cracking. 

Pressing yourself up from his chest so you’re eye-to-eye, you brush his hair behind his ear lovingly and stroke the soft skin of his cheek. His hands find your hips. 

“I’m kissing all your beautiful spots,” You inform him simply. Like it was obvious once you laid down the first kiss that the beautiful spots on his body are all the places marked by scars.

For a moment, Eddie’s large eyes–which are so expressive you think you could read his mind sometimes–sparkle with longing and something more sweet. A fondness. 

But then, a nearly nonexistent smirk creeps its way onto his face as if he’s just thought of something ridiculous to say.

“How are you going to kiss my personality and my character?” He quips, tone thick with false authenticity. 

You laugh with a short breathy sound. If he’s found the will to be his regular, annoying–yet charming–self, his heart must feel a little lighter. 

It’s then you kiss him square on the mouth, allowing your tongue to indulge in the taste of his, like cigarettes and watermelon. Taken by surprise, Eddie makes a hmph sound before melting into you, his hands travelling from your hips to your back, pulling you closer. 

Though his mouth was most definitely one of his most beautiful spots, you don’t linger–despite the fact that you want to–as this was not your initial intention. 

When you pull away Eddie groans unhappily so you award him with one final, quick kiss before sliding down his body again. 

With his shirt off and because you’re pressed close to his skin you can smell him so clearly; his lavender-scented body wash, sweat, and vaguely, his cologne. You delight in the closeness, in all it awards you.

It had taken him weeks to get used to you seeing him like this, let alone allowing you to touch him like this. But you think this is more than that as you softly kiss across the scars on his shoulders. No, you think, this is more than touch. This is worship. 

Trailing your hands down his torso ever so lightly, Eddie shivers involuntarily at the ticklish, but pleasing sensation. You smile up at him, satisfied with his reaction, then place a gentle kiss on his sternum. He sighs contentedly. 

Then, teasingly, you trail your mouth to the right, and up just slightly. You graze his nipple with your teeth and this is precisely when his chest begins to rise and fall rapidly, his breaths coming quicker. 

He lets you tenderly kiss the scars on his pecs, allows you to trail kisses down the length of his arm, ending with a sweet kiss at his wrist. He watches with hooded eyes as you do, pupils blown so wide now they nearly swallow up the dark brown of his irises. 

Eddie sighs and moans as you kiss down his belly and leave a path of spit. 

He helps you wiggle off his jeans. Once they are off, you allow yourself to indulge in a sudden desire to lick a thick stripe from the waistband of his boxers where his happy trail begins, all the way up to his navel. Eddie’s hips twitch and lift off the bed just slightly as he huffs impatiently. He wants this, he wants you to touch him, to kiss him everywhere available. 

You must lay down hundreds of kisses. With each one you are saying I love you, you are saying this to him, you are saying this to each and every scar. You are telling him, I love this one and this one and this one and this one. They are all my favourites. They are all your beautiful spots. 

You scratch lightly along his waist, just above his waistband, tugging at the elastic where you let your fingers sneak beneath the fabric. But you don’t tug his boxers down just yet. You haven’t even reached his thighs yet. How could you forget his thighs? What a great act of neglect it would be to forget about his thighs. 

Slowly, you slide off his body and onto the floor, now kneeling on the carpet between his legs, which he parted for you ever so willingly. He’s pliable, putty in your hands. You could move him wherever and however you wanted and he would let you. 

You decide that you enjoy this angle; seeing him laid out, wriggling around restlessly, sighing as you drag your hands up and down his thighs. He must be half-hard in his boxers. But you ignore this for now in favour of paying attention to his gloriously thick thighs.

Pushing the fabric of his boxers up so you can get to the highest place on his legs where the scars reach without taking them off, you place a kiss there, at the very top of his left thigh. 

“Sweetheart, please.” He sounds breathy and desperate. 

“But I haven’t kissed everywhere yet,” You tease before placing a sweet kiss to the meat of his thigh. 

This makes him whine, high and drawn out. 

You rarely get him like this. You love him like this. 

So you continue kissing his pinkish scarred flesh; the tops of his thighs, around his knees, his calves, then a painstakingly slow trail back up. He’s almost jittery by the time you’ve reached his thighs again. You must kiss every inch of his flesh broken by the scars. Because they’re a part of him and how could you not love every part of him?

Finally, you reach the apex of the inside of his thighs. He’s extra sensitive there. The scars are fewer and further between there. But still, you kiss each one of them, gently, softly, then tease him by licking up the inside of his thigh, feeling the ridges and bumps of the scars on the flat of your tongue. Another kiss. 

“God,” Eddie groans. And then he says something else as you continue your ascent, fingers itching to grasp his waistband and pull his boxers down. You aren’t sure what he’s said at first, until he repeats himself. And then he repeats himself again, and again. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” 

“Eddie, you’re so pretty,” You whisper into his thigh before pressing another kiss to another scar, one just below his waistband which you’ve only just begun to tug down. He hears your praise, lolls his head to the side to look down at you. His eyes are glassy and pleading, lust-drunk, love-drunk. Then he reaches his hand down, and you reach up to meet him in the middle where he laces your fingers together. 

It’s then you place a kiss over his boxers, kissing the very tip of him where his dick curves up towards his right hip, pressed right beneath the elastic waistband. The spot is damp and you can taste the saltiness of him on your tongue already. 

You’re glad you were watching him when you did it, because his eyes rolled into the back of his head before they shut and he moaned and his hips twitched again, searching for more, more, more. 

When his eyes slowly open again, he catches you watching him. Teasingly tracing your index finger over his skin, brushing over his scars, causing his stomach to tense, so riled up.

“What?” He drawls lazily. 

“Feelin’ good?” You ask, though you know the answer. 

“Mmh,” Eddie replies affirmatively, hips shifting again. You smile softly. 

If you can give him these moments as often as possible, make him feel loved and worshipped, press all your love into him through your lips on his skin, then maybe he will start to feel it for himself. It will sink into his skin, fight its way beneath the scars and into his heart. 

So you continue making him feel good. You finally pull down his boxers, allowing him to spring free. His leaking tip reaches his belly button, dark pink, clearly aching. You press your lips to the tip, once again kissing him. 

You ease the ache. 

♡*♡*♡

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it & if you did, please consider reblogging, it really helps!

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[mademoisellekalopsia]

A Heart-to-Hurk! Talk

"Hurk…hmk!-uh. Hnnrk! Mmm, this is quite-hip! a workout, these things." A groaned.

"Make that two of us." B replied, huffing puffs of their warm breath and panted after a mature session in the comfort of their shared quarters. The lights are dimmed and the cold air would graze the skin of the both of them.

A recently had quite an on-and-off case this week. It's nothing to worry about as it lasts for almost an hour then it becomes resolved through letting it course on its own or applicable and suitable remedies. Despite what has been aforementioned, B can't help but think this is something to be serious about, pushing their excitement aside. Ooh, but those waves and symphony are sure captivating.

B would let out a long sigh, it sounded like they are holding back something. Their long face etched, gazing rather from the opposite direction.

"Darling, why the lo-HOCK!-mmm-long face?" A softly questioned, a hand on their beloved's locks, brushing their fingertips in a soothing sense of graze.

They waited. They gave a good kind of silence with a few sudden hiccups echoing the once quiet room. If their beloved refrains to answer, given that this matter is already talked about before, yet not so thoroughly, that's valid, it just means to show that they are not fully ready to tell it yet.

"All of this…" Nevermind, looks like they are.

"…I know we have given a talk about this, you acknowledging and unbelievably understanding this side of me." B paused longingly. Giving a soft pat of A's tummy as it popped waves thrice, tending and giving comfort for a moment.

"Well, ahem, I just…I want to really ensure ourselves about this side of me. As you are aware of. B felt A's comforting hand, offering calmness and genuine ease. "I always wonder if you're truly alright with this. Me with this…very thing that gets me so weak in the knees just seeing you getting all…hiccupy…gosh." B paused once more to gather their thoughts, looking away. "I thought you would think less of me. I must be such a-"

A took their breath away, softly gasping when they lifted their hand ever so gently, bringing it up to their lips for a soft press on top. As expected, A noticed their gaze shifting back to their cup, the hint of guilt still evident in their expression.

They stayed there, their body jostling occasionally, quietly watching B for a moment. A's hand still gently resting on their arm. Then, they spoke, a voice so soft and sincere.

"Hey. Mmk! Look at me, no force though." A said gently, their touch on their arm all light, yet comforting. "Are you-urk!-mmm…sure about talking-HUP!Mmrk!-this matter?"

Reluctant, but they listened. B, now looking up to them which almost felt was impossible at the moment.

B considered their question, a firm nod received from them. "I am up for it, dearest. Its a different zone, a whole new zone for me to step out, but, if it could help me understand myself and how…you would feel…think about it, since I confessed it to you. So far."

A would listen in return. It takes time for B to gather themselves up to talk about such personal, secretive thing about them. It almost aches B that they have to hide this, for the sake of being seen as one who can control their stimulation and that the source was quite silly and different. At least that is what B thinks and perhaps what they think others may think of. Ooh, the unending list of thoughts is like a rolling bill of receipt. Anyway…

"Okay. Just to-hmrk!-to make su-hurk!-sure we're both-hmk!-uh…get on the same page. Excuse me-hnrk!Hig-kuh'lp!Mmlk!"

B, out of sympathy, rubbed A's chest to bring comfort as the pace got too quick for a hot second. A felt cared for in the end, until B can't help but tease a moment.

"Calm down in there, Froggie."

"Oh, harr-harr-UURK!" B promptly patted their chest, "How humorous of you." A smirked back as they gesture A to sit beside them.

"Listen, hmk!-mmm…if these will let me have-huck! your focus." A said in feign annoyance. "You don't need to feel guilty about you-Hmk! yourself being into this. Hmrk!Guhk!-mmm…for I don't hold it against you, not at all."

They paused, trying to find the right words. "The way you are also-Hnk!-con-Nk'lp!-scious about it, whenever they come in bouts-Huck!-when the days are just ordinary yet unexpectedly they show up, it all leads me back to thi-HIRNNK'!-guh…thinking about you…"

"Why?" they both said. Looks like A knows B for such a long time to know what they'll say next, specifically in particular situations they both know. A couldn't help but chuckle at what happened.

"Because-HMK!-you resort to caring for me, feel concern-HUCK'LP!-and sympathy, consider my feelings about them-mmk!, despite your stimulated-self. I hope that's appropriate to say. HIRK!"

"How could I not? You'd course through them, and it would hurt you whenever they escalate." B sighed at those thoughts. Crossing their arms as their spoke firmly. "You're my beloved, mind you, an important person in my life. So, you should expect how much I would put concern to this on you."

Then, they felt their hand lifted, A holding it over their own as they spoke once again.

"You're still you. And-Hnnk! you just proved me that. And you'll still be at the end of it all. HMMP!-I think that is inspiring, a lot of-Hgrk!-lot of gut to control and express, endearing…" A stopped on their words to let the silent hiccup pop up on their middle torso. "…and "quite"-HOCK!-hot-oof."

B flushed at their words. If they flushed even more, there must be steam coming out of their ears. "Ooh, you, shut it."

B huffed, pushing A on the chest gently. Deep inside, B felt validated, realized of the thing they have as a source of arousal. B, longingly looking down as they reflect on what A has said, it took their attention off as A leaned to embrace their beloved. It was so warm, so needed. It is what they needed for the time being.

"I do mean e-VHIK'lp!-every bit of word, by the way."

"I know. I know you do. It says a lot about the one I am happily with." B let out a shivering sigh, a bit overwhelmed by this discussion, not because it made them uncomfortable, but because how much their significant other understood the aspects of them. If that is not genuine compassion, they don't know what is.

With that, B spoke in a soft tone, "Thank you."

"I got you." A manage to say, with a deep hiccup that rocked their body, it spasmed against B's own body. That was electrifying for a moment, but the hug and after-TLC session first. Moving the attention to their darling Shih Tzu currently laying down on its back on the floor. Its tummy exposed, a leg twitching, and its "teefs," as B calls them, are out by its underbite of a maw. It was deaf...or is it because its eyes are just bulging a bit, dilated, as if it saw and possibly heard everything. But its ears are safe from the prior noises, completely oblivious about the whole heart-talk shebang. This is quite random, but the dog deserves some screentime.

[mabelstone]

Divorcé

matt stone x reader

summary: part two of Professor Stone.

word count: 1435

note: god he looks so yummy here.

the start of this isnt great but bear with me.

gonna start adding some spice to this next chapter, i just dont want to chuck it in so predictably... theres a little tease here though so i hope you enjoy xx

if you haven't read part one, here it is <3

Part Two.

Professor Stone said goodbye to the class as routine, drawing out a long, irritated sigh as his phone buzzed violently on his desk. “Fuck me,” he muttered under his breath, putting the phone to his ear, pinching the upper bridge of his nose in annoyance. He answered with a blunt, “yeah?”

You tried to eavesdrop but couldn’t hear over the rest of the students leaving the theatre. He was throwing his hands around, clearly in a very heated argument with whoever was on the other line. He leaned one arm onto his desk, propping himself up, the other still holding the phone to his ear. He made eye contact with you, holding his gaze a bit too long. “Look, I’m with a student right now,” he quickly pulled the phone away as you could faintly hear a woman on the other line yelling obscenities you couldn’t quite make out. “I’ll call you later,” he interrupted, hanging up and dropping his phone on his desk, shaking his head at you. “Women.”

“Trouble in paradise?” You chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

He scoffed, “please, it was hardly ever paradise.” He beckoned you over with two fingers, and you obliged, dragging your chair with you. “Sorry about that.” He mumbled, shifting his things over so you had space next to him at his desk. “My wife- ex-wife, likes to burst my eardrums at the most convenient times.”

You hummed in understanding, not sure what there was to say. You wanted to prod, but thought it was best not to. Guess this explains why he’d been such an asshole recently. You looked over at his left hand, a prominent round indent on his now naked ring finger. He ran his hand through his short hair, sighing. “Anyway, what exactly was it you were struggling w-“

“Shit!” You jumped as you accidentally knocked his cup of whiteboard markers and paper clips over with your elbow. “I’m sorry, I’ll grab those.” He just shook his head, watching you scramble to the floor to fix your damage. “In my defence, who keeps paperclips in a cup on the edge of their desk?”

He watched as you got on your hands and knees, your black probably-too-short-for-uni dress riding up ever so slightly, giving your professor the perfect view of your thighs and the bottom of your ass. You felt it hiking up, reaching a hand around to pull the thin material down. “Sorry, sir,” you blushed, moving your bum away from him and continuing to pick up the paper clips.

“This your way of trying to get a good grade?” He humoured, his eyes never once straying from you.

You blushed harder, playing it off with a sarcastic, “you’re telling me it’s been this easy all along?” He smirked, something in his eyes changing. You felt hot, flustered, knowing your newly single, probably sexually frustrated professor just saw a whole lot more of you than he bargained for.

“Um, anyway,” you diverted, climbing back into your seat, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Pretty much none of it makes sense, especially numerical integration.”

He nodded, surprisingly not making a snide comment about your lack of intelligence for once. He began to explain, taking your book from you and drawing a graph. You tried to focus, but the way his eyes lingered on you while he spoke did something to you. You were sitting so close that your forearms would brush occasionally, his skin warm, contrasting how cold you felt in the air-conditioned theatre. Eventually, you completely zoned out, watching the way the muscles in his arm flexed as he wrote and moved your book around, the way his slender fingers flipped the pages, his hands veiny and massive in comparison to yours.

“Is this making sense?” He snapped you out of your thoughts, his hand mere inches from yours as he looked up at you.

“Uh- yeah, yeah.” You nodded in faux understanding, readjusting yourself to sit slightly closer to him, your knee brushing his thigh as you moved in toward the paper in front of you. “I’m just not too sure where this value here came from.”

It’s like a switch in your brain tripped suddenly. Maybe it was the fact you hadn’t been laid in months, or maybe just the fact that you were so close to a male, but you suddenly realised just how attractive he was. He too pulled his chair in closer and pointed at the numbers in front of you, and this time, you understood.

“Oh! So, d is what we’re multiplying by?”

“Exactly, well done!” He shot you the most genuinely smile of his you’d seen yet, feeling your stomach drop when he lightly brushed your shoulder. “Alright, let’s move on to the next topic then.”

He began explaining the next topic as he did, this time your eyes trained on his face. His strong bone structure, his bushy eyebrows and beautiful green eyes, his face now shaven since you saw him the night before. His lips looked soft and wet, his tongue darting out occasionally as he scribbled in your book.

You found yourself completely zoned out again, imagining his large, warm hand resting on your thigh, his other hand brushing your hair behind your ear. You imagined the way he would switch his demeanour once you closed the small gap between your lips, finally shutting him up about the stupid calculus problems. You imagined how his hand would find its way to the back of your head, fingers pulling your hair with just the right amount of force. You imagined him pulling your hair harder, moving your head to the side to expose your neck where he would leave hot, open mouthed kisses, his warm tongue gliding over the freshly assaulted skin. You’d purr something so pretty, making him groan and roughly grip your hips, standing you up before running his hands up the back of your dress, his lips travelling from your collarbones to your chest. Fuck, he’d breathe, your eyes screwed tightly shut, just enjoying the way he made you feel.

You wondered how his lips felt, how he tasted, if he lingered after a kiss. If he was slow or aggressive, if he used just the right amount of tongue, or if he would bite your lip with need.

You were pulled out of your thoughts as his phone buzzed on the table yet again, probably his ex calling another time. He flipped his phone up, only to flip it back over and let out a frustrated groan, resting his head in his hands.

You didn’t know what to say. Well, what could you say? Was it inappropriate to touch him? You were just fanaticising about him shoving his tongue down your throat. You opted for gently placing your hand on his arm, lightly rubbing the area. “I’m sorry you’re dealing with this,” was all you could muster up in your softest voice, offering him a sad smile when he looked up.

“It’s fine, really,” he chuckled, yet there was no humour in his tone. “Just don’t get married. Fool around while you’re young and attractive and make sure you pick the right one someday. Or you’ll end up an old calculus professor who wants to smash his phone into a billion pieces every time it rings.”

You laughed out of pity. “You could still do that, you know.”

“What? Smash my phone into a billion pieces?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, speaking without thinking. “I meant fool around.” You readjusted in your seat, him turning his full body around to face you, eyes dark. “You know you’re good looking, plus, you’re not that old… I think.”

He laughed, looking down at your thighs and shaking his head before meeting your eyeline. “You really want that good grade, don’t you?”

“I’m just being honest,” you smiled sweetly, your voice delicate as you looked down at your dress, fiddling with the hemming.

He cleared his throat, closing your book and gathering his things. “It’s getting pretty late; we should probably head off.”

You breathed out a barely audible yeah, before putting your things away. Neither of you spoke, and the tension thickening around you. Before you had the chance to say something dumb, Professor Stone chipped in.

“Would you like to swing by tomorrow?” He asked, returning your chair for you. “We’ve still got a lot to do if you wanna improve that grade.”

You chuckled, nodding in response as you walked toward the door. “Thanks.”

He simply gave you a smile and said nothing.

“Good night, sir.”

[thelunarfairy]

Hi, I found your page a few days ago and I'm already obsessed with your theories on Tbhk.

So for my question I was thinking if it would be possible if Nene would become Mystery no.8 but like what kind of apparition would she be ?(I already know that Hanako wont let her become a apparition I just wanted to know if it'd be possible😅) Would Nene become a mermaid apparition because of her curse? anyways I know this wont happen in the anime because of thier Bound together so Hanako can literally stop it from happening But yea this just came up in my mind unexpectedly. (If you dont get what I'm trying to ask, im asking basically what kind of apparition would Nene be IF it IS possible👀)

Sya! I hope its chill and nice over there in Brazil feel free to skip over if needed 😇

Cold in Brazil? 😭😭😭😭 my wish in life???? It's summer here, it's hot as hell hahahahahahahahaha the part of Brazil that snows is very far away. ****cries inside for never having seen snow****

well, at least I can have fun on the beach if I don't turn into a barbecue because of the sun~ ~~

Ahem, anyway, about Nene and the possibility of her becoming supernatural. Lately I've been thinking about this because of the last chapter of ASHK, that second Nene that appeared and everything.

I haven't thought deeply about it yet, I want to form more connections, because I believe so, that Nene will become something much bigger. Kou discovering how to become a supernatural, him trying to talk about it with Nene… hmm… none of that would be in the story for nothing, right?

There is this possibility of the eighth mystery that is mentioned in the opening song (don't rule out the possibility yet), the fact that Hanako doesn't want it doesn't mean it won't happen. Hanako didn't want Nene to leave the painting or for her to stop Aoi from being sacrificed, but it happened.

So her becoming the eighth mystery is STILL a possibility. Always think of several possibilities, never discard those that still have a connection or logic to the main plot.

I'm not going to go into too much detail about the possibility of Nene becoming the eighth mystery because it would have to be in one post, there are many factors that we have to consider and I would leave this answer very long.

Anyway, Nene seems to have an ability, she purifies, this is definitely not an ability of an ordinary human, is it? Teru himself said so.

She is not just any person, she also has the title of Kannagi. It turns out that everything is very mysterious when it comes to her, we know absolutely nothing about her, just that she has this ability and that she is a kannagi.

That's why I haven't done any deeper analysis on Nene yet, we have very little material to draw precise conclusions.

HOWEVER, to directly answer your question, yes, definitely, Nene has a great possibility of becoming a supernatural, she already has ties to one, so she is half supernatural because of the mermaid's curse.

Isn't it funny that Nene plays the mermaid and Amane loves the sky?

I mean, mermaids live in the sea, and Amane wants to conquer the stars. Two opposites, yet the sea is always keeping an eye on the sky, just as the sky is being reflected by the water.

Two poles that look at each other, but cannot be together.

[1rabong]

hellow!!! what first got you into borosai? whats ur favourite thing abt the ship, and any headcanons thats rotating in ur brain rn?

Thank you for the ask so much you have no idea how much i wanna ramble abt these two

Well, there’s one specific scene for the first question.

THIS SHOT

Look at his cute lil face he’s so happy

I saw this and was like, wait. This alien’s kinda.. hot. And he was making these adorable faces all cuz he was fighting Saitama. Then he dies, after making Saitama use the serious punch for the first time in the story.

They were really something. So naturally i started shipping them. And I naturally went to ao3 to look up borosai and despaired cuz there was only like 40 fics for them at the time. But still, I read them all(and they were all great), and started drawing art for them. Back then, I had no idea that I’d be fixating on them for so long, longer than anything i had a fixation for😂

My favorite thing about this ship is that they’re so different. Almost everything about them is so comically different. Just look at these two.

Just them standing next to each other is visual comedy at its finest.

They have different moralities, personalities, styles, amounts of hair, etc.

Which makes their similarities all the more interesting. They’re both bored to death, because they’re too strong. They both crave that stimulation of being in a fight with their lives at stake. They both feel lonely, because no one understands what it’s like to have this kind of strength. This loneliness is shown more in depth with Saitama, but I think it’s the same with Boros too. When we’re first shown Boros, he’s all stoic and cold with his subordinates, his expression barely changing. But when he meets Saitama, it morphs into excitement. Then as the fight goes on, it turns into an almost childish glee, making him ramble on about his strength, his home planet, until Saitama snaps at him to stfu😂 But who can blame him? After so many years of solitude he finally meets someone who’s on the same page as him.

With their fight, Boros gets what he wanted. The fight he was craving so much. A fight telling him that there’s still something that can surprise him in this Universe. That he wasn’t alone. Which is why even as he was shocked that he had lost, he doesn’t feel angry or bitter about it. Rather, it almost seems like he feels pity for Saitama. Because surely there’s no chance for him to meet someone who is as strong as him. So he calls out Saitama’s name, as his last words, and dies.

All the above is more or less canon, but if we were to veer a bit off course into an au where Boros lived, there’s so much potential for an interesting relationship between them. Imagine the possibilities. He could be like a stronger version of Sonic, challenging Saitama week after week, always getting his ass kicked but coming back for more, a little stronger than last time. And hey, since this is a Borosai au, they could very well fall in love😆

This turned out to be longer than I expected and not exactly on topic but look, I can’t help myself.

The current hc that’s rotating in my brain rn is that they’re madly in love, and is married. And have a child😂

Okay i know this sounds absolutely bonkers but I’ve been hardcore shipping them for too long and them being in a relationship is like a default setting for me when I think about them, so giving them a kid to take care of on top of all that just came naturally. Imagine the utter chaos it would ensue. It’d be peak comedy.

This lil guy. His name is Daan. I love him so much.

Anyways that’s all the questions answered, thank you again for the ask🥳

[serene-sun]

𝕸𝖞 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖙 𝖎𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑𝖘 🪽

(Kinktober days 4-6, DOMSUB/OMEGA VERSE)

Pairing: Cardinal copia x cirrus x cumulus

Warnings: shit uhhhhh ALLOT, pussy eating, why am I putting a warning…yiur gonna love it anyways you sluts

A/n: first time writing omegaverse so I'm very sorry if you cringe! Remember that these three days will be discussion over this topic…inbox is open and anon is an option!

“My sweet…innocent angels. You have never upset your Cardinal, ever.” Copia clicked his tongue, his shoe tapping the pink rug. He had his hand on his hip and his eyes looking down on the two girls menacingly.

“But today I am very displeased with the two of you!” He exclaimed as he huffed. His hand gripped the magazine harder, the pages bunching up and almost ripping.

Cirrus and Cumulus were sitting on the floor of their shared room amongst what was left of a successful slumber party. The sisters of sin were already off to bed before Copia angrily knocked on the door and came to confront them.

“What were you thinking? Having such blasphemy?” Copia ranted, “And to be reading it amongst sisters of sin?”

Cirrus had taken it from Aether and mountains room while searching for a certain item. Her eyes lit up when she found it tucked away under mountains pillow, it smelt like both ghouls.

They had so much fun looking at each page with the siblings of sin at their sleepovers until it went missing one minute and then the other copia was there with it in his hand.

“We’re sorry papa.” Cumulus guiltily apologized.

“The truth is…sodo placed it under our pillows and we didn’t know what to do.” Cirrus lied, she knew Sodo was just too good of a target to ignore.

Copia hummed, and he began flipping through the pages. “And how do these images make you feel, girls?” He asked with his rich voice.

Cumulus rubbed her thighs together at the question, “Good.” He breathed out.

Cirrus took a deep breath, that heated feeling in her abdomen made her chest feel cold. She puffed up some, making her breasts more visible, “wet.”

“I see.” Copia examined the ghoulettes with his one white eye, “I suppose, since you told the truth, you deserve a reward.”

The two girls looked at each other before looking back at Copia.

“Both of you, take off your clothes and give me your panties,” Copia instructed firmly as he took off his belt.

Cumulus followed, she took off her lace bra and her silky red panties. She folded them nicely before Copia took them and shoved them into his pocket.

Cirrus discarded her baby doll lingerie before she handed him the black lace panties that joined the other pair.

Copia admired both of their naked forms with a smirk, he took off his pants and button-up before letting his cock bob up at the tension.

Cirrus blushed, she kept her thighs close together to hide the seeping heat.

Cumulus gripped her plush thighs, unable to think straight.

“Let your cardinal see those pink pussys hmm?” He said as he got to his knees in front of the girls.

They shared a lustful glance before both ghoulettes spread their legs wide for him.

“Mm, yes this will do nicely.” He said as he took a gloved hand to slide up both of their wet cunts.

Cumulus whimpered as his middle finger sunk into her tight heat. Then Cirrus shared the same energy as her tight hole was prodded at.

“C-Cardinal.” The girls whined as he added another finger and began thrusting in and out of their wet holes quickly.

His two fingers glazed over their tight squishy walls as they brushed against their cervix. His thumb trailed up to push down on their aching clits. The hood pushed back against their groin at the friction. Their soft trimmed hair smoothed over his soaking-wet gloves.

The man started quickening his pace as he watched their breasts bounce with every push on their body.

Cumulus clenched on his two fingers, hot liquid squirting out of her cunt. It made a beautiful scene as it painted his glove with white glossy female cum.

Cirrus watched in agony, her orgasm washing over her as he fingered her.

The room was almost foggy with hot breath as Copia took off his gloves. He laid them to the side as he grabbed his erection and started grinding it against the ghoulettes cheek.

“Did that magazine make you realize how powerless and small you are?” Copia chimed as his tip pushed against Cumulus’s lips.

The girl nodded, her clit twitching. “I needed someone….some.” She tried to speak before Copia cut her off by shoving his thick girth deep into her wet cavern. “An alpha? Someone to ease those pitiful mating calls?” He answered her.

Cirrus crawled above cumulus and Copia began lapping up the arousal dripping from her cunt.

Both girls shrieked.

Cumulus wrapped her long forked tongue around his base before using it to jerk his cock off in her mouth.

Copias lips wrapped around her clit, and he sucked on it harshly until she was squirming around. He then used his hands to spread her gaping hole, he kissed her opening before thrusting his tongue inside.

Cumulus licked the tip of his cock before she softly gagged as he pushed it deeper down her throat. His tip was a little passed the back of her throat as her mouth was full of his cock. She felt his heavy balls against her chin, and his strong cologne filled her senses as her nose met his bushy hair.

Cirrus bit her lip, and Copia's tongue went back to her clit as it circled the hard bud. His tongue danced with her clit as he used his two fingers to push back her hood.

Her hands buried themselves in his slicked-back hair as her thighs met his cheeks. “I’m so close.” She mumbled.

Cumulus licked up his length again before his tip released his hot sperm down her throat. She struggled to breathe until he leaned back. She sucked on his cock, milking every drop of that much-needed arousal. When Copia pulled out of her mouth, his erection let a few more drops spill onto her soft cheeks.

Cirrus gasped as she felt her second orgasm spasm across her body. Her cum was quickly licked up by Copia as he swallowed it with a smile, “My good girl's pussy, always so delicious.” He grinned, arousal slicking up his mustache and sideburns.

Copia leaned back, grabbed his base, and tapped it against Cumulus’s lips one more time as more droplets of cum coated her pink lips.

“Does your cunt still need more pleasure?” He growled into her ear as he licked up her neck, “Or do you still need a male to mate you?”

Cumulus shook her head, she whimpered at the sound of his voice.

Copia groaned, “My sweet angels, always so good for their master. No magazine can ease that burden of heat, can it?”

“My sweet innocent angels.”

[savebatswingaus]

Let's just fly, why don't we - Very short Crystal, Gold, and Silver Wing AU oneshot for Scratch Writing Camp

Fic linked above, in the link in that link, under the cut, on scratch discuss, or in a scratch project. It's your pick really.

Crystal thinks about her wings, and her friends take flight with her.

Pokespe wing au! My beloved!! I kept this very short because I spent all my energy writing a different fic for another part of this weekly (if that doesn't make sense read the end notes), and I was tired. :( Words: 1,000

(End notes:) Btw this is from a weekly for Scratch Writing Camp! Read more about the weekly this one comes from in chapter one of this ao3 post: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57180415 (Or in the Scratch discuss page that will be linked there.) Comments are appreciated! I really enjoy wing au and I would like to find others that do too. :)

When she had first gotten the wings, she hadn't really thought much of them. Yeah, it had been scary and all, but she'd kind of had bigger things to worry about at the time, so she didn't really put effort into wondering where the odd new limbs had come from.

In fact, the first week or so, she hadn't even actually checked to see if they even worked, instead sticking them under a long coat and going about her day at the lab. (It helped that they easily slid under her arms, hiding easily under a fully buttoned lab coat, so long as no one bothered to ask why she was looking so... wide, that day.)

But after the week was up, she decided it was time to give them a test.

Her hopes weren't exactly high, even though her tiny little Natu had been able to carry her in a decently steady glide back when its own wings were only slightly larger than one of her hands. Flight with wings on a human was impossible, it was a fact that had always been drilled into her (and one she had always done her best to drill into her students).

But what kind of teacher would she be if she didn't do her best to learn new things from time to time.

She stood at the edge of the ledge, sweat dripping down her chin in the hot beams of the sun.

Above her, her Xatu Xatee was circling carefully, ready to catch her with its strong talons or with a powerful psychic blast if she ended proving herself right.

She trusted Xatee, she could do this.

She had leapt into the wind, spreading her wings and letting it take her suddenly higher in a clumsy imitation of the movements that she had always seen her Pokemon use to take off in the past. Thankfully, she didn't seem to have messed up quite then, flapping her wings forward and down when she remembered that she needed to gain altitude so as not to crash into the treeline behind her. 

Excited, Xatee had made a whistling sound, and Crystal had unconsciously responded with one of her own.

She was flying!

She didn't know how that was even a little bit possible, but she didn't care. She was doing it!

The sun had felt cold at first, but much of the burn had quickly disappeared as she met the wind present in flight. Her clear extra eyelids, which she had learned early on through various sets of experimentation, kept her eyes from getting try as she rose to spin in the sky.

She had quickly reached Xatee, and the two had all but played in their excitement, despite Crystal still not quite knowing what she was doing.

Now, she was going to do it again.

(She flew most days, these days.)

At her side now was not just Xatee, but some other friends as well.

She couldn't really understand it, but she was glad anyway.

Arceus, the God Pokemon that Gold had fought so violently that one time and which she had attempted to catch another time, had blessed them. (That was another thing about the wings she didn't really understand, but chose not to question too deeply. She was thankful, and that seemed to be enough.)

Gold's wings were bright and long, and his tail exploded out behind him in the tell tale glow of a Ho Oh. Sometimes, just like the bird he found himself reflecting, he let out a rainbow trail when he got too excited in the air.

Silver's wings were nearly the opposite, dark on the backs and not all that much brighter on the insides, with a strange puff of white and red that he called a tail as his rudder. Similarly to Crystal, he had apparently taught himself to fly based directly on one of his pokemon. 

And of course, they could not do without their teachers, stood Xatee, Silver's beautiful Honkrow, and Gold's rude Togebo, who was currently preening his weirdly shaped wings.

“Are we ready to fly?” Crystal asked, her voice edging on high pitched. (This was going to be the first time that all of them flew together in a few months now, and oh boy was she nervous about messing up mid air and getting laughed at.)

”Is that even a question?“ Gold asked, his usual snarkiness replaced by pure excitement for getting in the air. (Crystal was pretty sure he was going to try and dazzle the both of them with some crazy tricks if he was acting like that and they weren't even off the ground yet.)

”Then let's fly!“ Silver said, jumping into the air with his Honchkrow is a show of pure power as the two took to the wind.

Wings open, Crystal leaped after him, her square shaped flight feathers catching the wind and carrying her backwards for a moment before she got herself under control enough to catch up to Silver.

Gold followed, and a stream of rainbow light flashed after him as he casually outpaced them both. He had legendary wings, so Crystal did her best not to beat herself up over it.

”Where are we going?“ He asked, his voice somehow clear despite the fact that it shouldn't have been. (Crystal had noticed that about her winged form. Somehow they seemed to make it easier to tune out the scream of the air hitting her face.)

”Whenever you want to,“ She called back, ”I'm free off of teaching until the end of the month,”

She flapped her wings a beat and waggled her finger, “But I'm not going anywhere dangerous mister, and neither are you,”

Gold did a little twirl, and the rainbow faded back into the blue of the sky, “Awh, but you know me! Always getting into trouble,”

“Let's just fly, why don't we,” Silver called to them, “We don't have to be going anywhere,”

And that's just what they did.

[uss-genderprise]

I Read Still Another K/S Zine So You Don't Have To

But maybe you should, anyway.

You may remember that a while back I reviewed Alien Brothers, and said that if I got my hands on any other zines I would review them as well. Well, here we are! This is the first of eight zines I currently own physical copies of, and those reviews should come out over the rest of the year.

Still Another K/S Zine was published in July of 1984 and was the fourth issue of Another K/S Zine. First impressions are difficult, as my copy is a homemade reprint on green paper which was stapled together and has no cover. It's also almost 40 years old, so it has seen better days.

Despite all this, it is quite pretty. The fics all have different trim designs and most of the artwork is of flowers. It doesn't have any full page drawings, nor drawings of Kirk and/or Spock. The italics are all in cursive which is only slightly difficult to read and may or may not have been hand written. The rest of the text is standard typewriter font, which, by the thanks, has been typed by hand. I'm very glad that's no longer necessary.

Warnings: light discussion of sex, one mention of non-con, spoilers for the fics in this zine.

Disclaimer: everything written here is my interpretations and opinions of this zine and the works within it. None of it is meant to offend or diss any of the creators.

Editorial

Apparently, fans didn't like the Search for Spock. Personally, I don't see why. There's a little comic that I find quite humourous.

Folly

by Vivian Gates

Very interesting concept. I never thought I would ship Spock and Finnegan, and to be fair, going exclusively by canon, I still don't. However, despite the changes that had to be made for this story to work, both Finnegan and Spock are still surprisingly in character. Vivian Gates seems to have a tendency to leave stories open ended, as she does it again with The Air is the Air two years later. It's a well written and constructed story, and I enjoyed it. 4.5/5

Protecting the Captain's ASSets, or, the Danger of Ignoring ScuttleBUTT.

by Sharon Fetter

This fic starts with the worst poem I have ever read and it's spectacular. A new yeoman on the Enterprise tries to use it to get Kirk to sleep with her but Spock catches her and she turns into one of many who got kicked off the Enterprise for this. I love the funny ones. 5/5

Altered Perceptions

by Shawn Masters

Boooooring. It's a pon farr fic but it has no smut in it, Spock tries to jump off a cliff and Jim is mad a lot and when he's not mad he's basically forcing himself onto Spock. Not the worst by far, but definitely a skip on my part. 3.5/5

Hold Me Till the Morning Comes

by Janus

What if Jim held on to Spock's katra instead? I wouldn't know, this story is barely a page and a half long, and it's technically listed as a poem in the table of contents. It's fine. 4/5

At this point everything stops for a bit to bring you: poems written after SFS! They aren't very good. Back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Once Upon a Night....

by Melanie Athene

Spock has a nightmare, wakes up his neighbours, one of which is Jim, of course. Then the lights cut out and it's plenty cold so you know what that means! Huddling for warmth in Spock's bed. Jim cries about his brother and then they have a tickle war which inevitably devolves into hot, steamy sex - which we aren't shown. Frankly, I'm becoming a little disappointed with the lack of smut in this zine, especially considering every fic so far (except for one) has been leading up to it. 5/5

On the Matters of Being Very Fat and Purple, and Enjoying It

by C.J. McNally

Now, here's the smut I've been waiting for! And while it wasn't overly detailed it was well worth the wait, with a little bit of Bones on the sidelines. This one was a lot of fun, and probably my second favourite fic in this zine. Also, gotta love that title. 5/5

Rub-A-Dub-Dub

by Devery Helm

I would never in a million years step into a bathtub made of velvet, no matter how water resistant it apparently is. It sounds like the worst sensory experience ever. However, Spock doesn't know what a rubber duck is and he's scared of bubbles, so at least there's that. A solid bit of light-hearted fun. 4/5

Old Friends

by Toni Cardinal-Price

There are a few cons of reading printed zines, and one of them is that when I read an absolutely spectacular fic and I want to share it with all my friends, I can't. This is one such fic.

It all starts when Jim's old friend from the Farragut gets assigned temporarily to the Enterprise and hugs Spock as soon as he comes on board, and Spock hugs him back! Turns out they roomed together at the Academy and may or may not have been lovers. So now they spend all their time together and Kirk gets increasingly jealous while this new guy does everything in his power to make Jim and Spock confess to each other. It's spectacular and I love it. This zine is worth getting if only for this fic. 5/5

Art and poetry

There isn't really a lot of art in this zine, and the art that is in there is fairly simple, though some is quite detailed. They compliment the works well, at least.

As for poetry, most of it wasn't to my taste, but there were a handful of good ones.

Final thoughts

This was nowhere near as bad as Alien Brothers, but to be fair that's because I specifically selected this zine out of 30-ish offered to me, based on the Fanlore page of each one, reading about the fics in them. I went into Alien Brothers knowing it was going to be bad, and I went into this one knowing I had selected it, but also knowing that someone was clearly quite willing to get rid of it, if the price tag was any indication (let's just say, I spent more on shipping). Still, I can't say it's a bad zine. It has plenty of fun stories, and even if I've read better ones for free online, the experience of actually holding a zine, a piece of history, was well worth it. Old Friends was on par with some of my favourite modern stories, and Being Very Fat and Purple had that classic charm I quite enjoy. All of these stories are somewhat products of their time, but none of them have aged poorly. I also read the whole thing in one day, as it's only 106 pages long. All in all, this was a very enjoyable zine.

[landscaping-your-mind]

@a-mag-a-day

Before I get into the relisten: hot jon rights.

This is going to be another stream of consciousness ramble. Maybe I'll say something good, maybe I won't.

(The official transcript.)

CW for a little bit of paranoia inducing rambling about Alternates from TMC.

BREEKON That's right. Just wanted… to… to drop off a package.

The way Breekon speaks, all broken up. It's just so sad :(

BREEKON Dunno. ‘s not right on my own. Not right. No point in doing it on my own. Dunno what happens now. Thought I might kill you. Missed my chance. Thought I might just deliver something. So, here’s a coffin. In case you want… to join your friend.

It's sad about Breekon hours :( How are you supposed to mourn for a part of yourself? How are you supposed to heal when you're literally incomplete.

BREEKON Make me. [A whooshing noise starts to rise with Breekon’s words, but immediately ceases when the Archivist speaks] ARCHIVIST Stop. [Heavy static rises] BREEKON What’re you doing? BASIRA Jon, what are you doing? BREEKON What’re you— Stop it. Stop it! ARCHIVIST No. [Breekon winces in pain] BREEKON Enough! Stop looking at me! [Breekon lets out a final cry and flees, a door is hear distantly. Static diminishes]

HOT JON RIGHTS!!!! I love this part it's so cool!!! He's so cool.

We started in a plague. Not like the nasty crawlers, but like bringing any other doom.

Fun fact about me, when I learned about the bubonic plague in primary school I was terrified. Not really of getting sick, though I think it was part of it, but of a red cross painted on a door, a mark of death. I was scared of the certainty that if I was infected, I would die. And no one would try to help, for fear of their own demise.

Not really relevant, but there it is.

Two strangers rolling towards them, unstoppable and uncertain, wearing faces they would only half remember, bringing a fate they would beg their god to forget. They could not hate us any more than they might have hated the rock that falls on them from a crumbling cliff. They did not know us, but they knew what we might do to them, what we might bring them.

This! This is the fear of The Stranger that actually gets me. Not the clowns or the mannequins or whatever, I'm not actually that freaked out by those, and I have yet to find art of Nikola that would actually freak me out or scare me. It's this kind of stuff and the Strangers from WTNV. Standing, staring, they could be right behind you, they're not doing anything but they might, they might at any moment attack. They're unfamiliar and strange and you have to be on your guard because you don't know what to expect, but they don't do anything, they just wait, as your dread grows ever higher.

Horror like that makes me very paranoid. I have a page in my notebook of trying to convince myself that the Alternates from The Mandela Catalogue weren't real, and what I was most freaked out about with them was that they could be anywhere. They could be posing as your friends, they could be in the corner of your room, they could be a puppet show on TV, they could be right behind you.

Don't turn around.

He squeezed its first owner until they stopped, and dumped them in a river, and I stayed with the second until they didn’t know who they were any more than they knew what they were.

The Stranger is weird. <3

The winter in Russia was cold, and in the icy air the absence of our breath was clear for all to see.

I like imagining that, something subtly wrong, you don't even notice it until you do, and when you do, you can't stop noticing it.

I have never known hate before. I have never known loss. But now they are with me always, and I desire nothing but to share them with you.

Don't know what to say to this. Just... :(

BASIRA And don’t open the coffin. ARCHIVIST It is addressed to me… … Yes, alright. You’re right.

I like his sense of humour. It's similar to mine sometimes.

Anyway! This is over! I only said a couple things of worth, but I hope you enjoyed the look into my mind regardless!

[your-official-gingerartist]

sneak peek :3c

It was a late cold night as you pulled into your usual parking spot in the Oscorp parking lot. You turned the keys hearing them jingle as the car made a low hum as it switched off. Tucking the keys into your pocket you opened the door exiting the car and shutting it with a light thunk. You then reached for the handle of the passenger door opening it to get some of your things out of the back seat that you brought with you to work on. Reaching in you put a knee onto the back seat while stretching the other leg out to keep balance while you retrieved what you needed.  

You pause for a moment looking at what else you'd brough, mostly just for you to snack on while you worked. Debating if you wanted to carry them in with everything else. Deciding you wouldn’t be hungry for a while you began stepping out your car once more- as you did a cold breeze came through. This made you shiver and hold what you had in your arms close to your chest as if to keep yourself warm.  

As you made your way toward the entrance of the building you fumbled for your ID card. Looking around the lot as you did almost instinctively to make sure no one saw you struggling to get the card out- even though you knew you were alone the thought of someone seeing you fumbling around was embarrassing.

You pressed the plastic card onto the scanner as it emitted a soft green light before it let out a beep noise and the doors parted letting you in away from the chill outside.

It was awfully quiet inside you could almost feel the silence on you as you made your way towards the elevator. The silence was more of what you preferred, though there was the occasion passing of security guards there wasn't as much noise than during the day when you worked is what you thought as you stepped into the elevator. You reached out with one arm and pressed one of the plastic buttons, the doors slowly closed before the elevator started its assent. As the soft noise the elevator made your mind began to wonder...

You couldn’t help think about Otto. About the accident that happened, losing two very close friends and well not knowing where Otto has gone has made coming to the lab at night even lonelier. It wasn’t unlikely that you’d accompany him to burning the late-night oil. He never seemed to rest. You thought as a soft smile came to your face, though neither did you it seemed...  

You’d been working closely with him, almost sense the beginning of his project. This was his dream, his passion, it too became something you wanted to relish in with him, to see it succeed... to see his smile. Oh his smile and his laug-  

Suddenly as you snapped out of your thoughts your face became flush and hot. As the door opened you bit the bottom of your lip somewhat shamefully- god.  

You felt more for Otto than you should, these feelings weren't new either. And you wouldn’t let yourself tell him how you really felt...  

Taking a slow breath to clear your head you stepped foot off of the elevator- it's time to focus on your work you told yourself. You made your way down the hall way hearing the low hums and clicks coming from near by rooms full of computers followed by the faint smell of dusty carpet mixed with metal and old book pages. You slowed to a stop in front of the doors to your office/ lab, the doors in a couple moments slid open and let you enter and you set what you had in your arms down onto the table. At the moment the hallway lights poured in through the glass doors so you went over to the wall and flipped on the lights, then made your rounds in the lab switching on some of the machines.  

Not that you were going to use them you turned them on mainly for background noise and to keep you company while you worked.  

Before you got started you went over to a closet, on auto pilot reached in and grabbed your lab coat. Although you weren’t going to be working on anything tedious to need it you slid it on anyway and-

…

The lab coat you grabbed hung loosely from your arms, it draped over you more like a big blanket than anything. This wasn’t your but Ottos lab coat. “ heh. Well this is definitely not mine.. You’ve done it again y/n.” you said letting out a soft almost breathy laugh through your teeth. Shaking your head as you remember taking his coat a many of times. By accident, most of the time... Once doing so Otto wouldn’t take it back, insisted on wearing your lab coat sense you were going to wear his.. He really had a difficult time that day trying to work in such a snug lab coat but it sure made the two of you laugh.

You held the lab coat between your hands hesitating to take it off before taking yours and wearing it. “Come on, its time to work, work, work. These codes aren't going to write themselves!” you said to yourself in an attempt to get your mind back on track. Pulling your chair you sat down and opened your laptop, once the program you used for programing booted up you began to type out various codes.  

Zoning in on your work you pressed at your keyboard each click of the keys became static noise to you. Occasionally looking to a slew of papers that were at your side with various notes.  

Time had quickly passed by while you worked. It was drawing near four in the morning as you stretched your arms back above your head accompanied by a yawn. You decided to get up and stretch a bit more- you became stiff just sitting there only having gotten up a couple times to test your work and then go back to basically hunched over your laptop. You were surprisingly able to get a good crack out of your back sending a wave of relief and satisfaction over you. Looking down as you reached into your pocket you grabbed your phone to check what time it was. You let out a tired oh through another yawn.  

“I should really take a break before I do any more work...” you grabbed your keys and ID card and headed back to the elevator to go collect the snacks you had left in the back seat of your car.

The air was damp and cold now outside droplets of dew rested on your car, and the wind from before now just a light breeze. The sound of crickets chirping somewhere in the grass could be heard in the distance along with your footsteps against the wet pavement. It wasn’t till you put a hand on the handle of your car that a sense of eyes watching you crept its way into the back of your mind. You tried to push it down to keep yourself calm while you got the snacks and closed the door, locking your car once more.  

You could feel your heart beat fasten as your gaze landed on the small tree line at the end of the lot.. Where the light barely reached into the trees. Having scanned the area for what your brain deemed a good amount of time you turned and made your way towards the building.

At the doors you could still feel the sensation of eyes on your back.

You really hated being alone. It from time to time got under your skin, making you anxious. But you took a slow breath in, with a breathy exhale as you turned back to look at the parking lot. “There is nothing there. Its late. Your getting tired and anxious, nothing is going to happen tonight alright” You said almost as if you were looking at yourself to comfort you. And thankfully doing so you were able to feel yourself relax and calm down. With that you smiled as if to say there and pressed your ID card to the scanner and entered the building.

It was then, soon as the doors closed shut did the trees begin to rustle, and branches crack.