#ed ware

[sesiondemadrugada]

Dracula (Tod Browning, 1931).

[disneyweirdness]

[edrake]

Composition Book Chronicles - R.I.P. Ed Piskor

[ironsaguaro]

The NEW Chris Ware book - presents his art in an exciting, fresh way

[robinsnest2111]

kinda missing the shitty little shops and boutiques in the city circa 2007/2008

they've been gone for years but I would like to visit them one last time...

[wartoposluchac]

Best Of 2023 - Albumy

50/Vince Clarke – Songs of silence (P.I.A.S.)49/Classix Nouveaux – Battle cry (Cherry Red Rec. / Sonic Records)48/First Aid Kid – Palomino (Sony Music)47/Gorillaz – Cracker Island (Warner Music)46/James Blake – Playing robot sinto heaven (Universal Music)45/Taylor Swift – Speak now (Universal Music)44/Blur – The Ballad of darren (Warner Music)43/Inhaler – Cuts & Bruises (Universal Music)42/P!NK –…

[fuglyselfie]

not spotifying roasting my ass

[disclosures-mum]

Disclosure ‘Settle’ 2013

Video: Studio Moross 

[twi-liight]

Petty Jealousy ❣

Tav's companions cannot fathom them potentially having other friends. ❥ Astarion/reader, Astarion/Tav, but also Companions/reader. I'm a Tavrem supremacist. ❥ Contains my own personal headcanon for why the companions call them "Tav" instead of their first name, which is justification for me loopholing the eternal problem of xreader writers having to wince when they use "F/N" or "Y/N". ❥ They/them pronouns for Tav/reader!

“Look,” Astarion hisses, “look at that!” 

5 pairs of eyes land on the offender of the night (which, to their surprise, isn’t Astarion) who conversed pleasantly with the leader of their party. A half-elf with a sharp jaw, proud brow, and mirthful eyes looks extraordinarily ordinary compared to their merry band of freaks. 

“Who is that, again?” Shadowheart asks absently. “Tav suggested I rest for today instead of mapping out the Underdark with the party, and the next thing I know, they’ve brought back another little companion.” 

Astarion’s jaw twitches. He snaps out, “Companion or complication?”

Gale crosses his arms, shrugging, used to Astarion’s temper running hot then cold. “His name is Nilmorn - a luthier. Tav took an interest in his wares. He makes a living selling stringed instruments in the Underdark. Strange place to sell such things.” 

Ugh. Astarion sighs, shaking his head. Leave it to Gale to traipse over the obvious. A sharpened mind like his would surely know that this Nilmorn has no place here, if not to be a bloodbag for him to slurp on. Beyond that, what use does this pretty boy have? Nilmorn sells wares that are utterly useless to them. He’s quite boring and one-dimensional, too, a character that strays too much into the side of “moral good” for Astarion to tolerate. 

 “Yes, yes, Gale, but have you considered how strange it is that he has invited himself to our camp?” Astarion flares out his hand towards the wizard, as if handing him common sense on his palm. 

“I,” Gale begins, blinking his wet, beautiful brown eyes at Astarion, “invited myself to this journey, Astarion. I am quite hurt you forgot. I thought what we had was special!” 

“Yes, but you’re weird!” Astarion exclaims. “You’re a freak with a bomb in your body because of your situationship with Mystra! That,” Astarion points an accusatory finger in the direction of Nilmorn, in which 5 pairs of eyes look at him again, “is someone so unbelievably normal he doesn’t even have any, any…” He gestures, articulates with his hands to placate his words. 

“No dubious motives?” Shadowheart offers, a smirk coyly playing on her lips. 

“No complicated backstory?” Wyll pipes in. Astarion’s eyes flicker to him, and irritation seeps into his skin when he finds Wyll smiling wryly, as if the warlock is in on some joke he is not picking up on. “No, I don’t know, god that has let him down in some way, shape, or form?” 

“Certainly no skills for fighting.” Lae’zel, thank the gods for Lae’zel. Her smooth voice hides none of her displeasure, and those sharp, slitted eyes stare across the fire to dig daggers into Nilmorn’s back. “Useless. We have no need for string-ed instruments. Let Tav pick one, and send this half-elf on his way.” 

Yes. Yes. Astarion nods eagerly.

“Hmmm. I almost envy his mundaneity,” Karlach adds,  “but I mean, he’s not that bad, Astari. Man’s just trying to make the world a better place, one string at a time.” 

Astarion almost throws up. He looks to the other companions helplessly. “Darlings. Please tell me you are not going to let Karlach get away with saying something so putridly motivational.” 

Karlach tosses her head back and cackles, much to Astarion's chagrin.

“Something is obviously bothering you,” Shadowheart states bluntly. Her green eyes watch his expression carefully in the firelight; she finds something there, but does not say it outright. With an exhale through her nose, as if it is painful for her to attempt a conversation with him, Shadowheart decides to throw him a bone: “Are you jealous?” 

He does not catch the bone. The bone slams right into his head as he stares at Shadowheart, slack-jawed and scandalized. Him? Jealous? “You must be joking.”

“Aw,” Shadowheart croons, another one of her insufferable smirks toying on her lips, “you are.” 

If he had mindflayer powers beyond reading her reprehensible surface-level thoughts, he would make Shadowheart’s head explode. Or something. 

He must establish his dignity in the group once more. He cannot handle more of this, especially not with Wyll grinning so wide, not self-aware enough that if he did not have a sexy demon controlling his life because he didn’t read the terms of conditions of a motherfucking contract, Astarion would bully him more.

“That is not the point here. Look,” he says. “I am just saying that our Tav is desirable in every way. Physically, we can all agree that Tav is attractive. Yes?” 

Yes. They all nod their heads. 

“Tav is a little strange, but they are our leader, and they got us this far somehow. Who knew caring about other people could go a long way.” 

Yes. They all nod their heads, except Wyll and Karlach, who look amongst the group with sheer disappointment on their faces. “Gods,” Karlach groans into her hand, “we– we need to unpack that later, gang. That’s just really sad.” 

“Lastly, Tav is strong. Strong enough to split apart the mountains and the sky, I imagine.” Strong enough to bury Cazador into the ground, hopefully. “Strong enough to face a god unwaveringly. Strong enough to persevere. Strong enough to be kind, despite everything. Despite what they think, they are charismatic, and they are the entire package. The only person who does not know of their value is Tav themselves.” 

They watch Tav’s lips quirk into a smile as Nilmorn holds a lyre out for them upon his smooth hands. Smooth, no sign of scars, no sign of complications. Just so unbearably mundane. Unbearably good. Unbearably kind. 

Unbearably unaware of their true nature.

Nilmorn does not know why they nicknamed them Tav, despite their name being [F/N]. Their unstoppable quench to loot everything and anything set back their timeline by weeks, no doubt. Reaching into barrels, reaching into the pockets of bandits, reaching into damn silk cocoons, reaching into whatever their curious little hands can salvage. It annoyed Astarion at first, but then Tav would find all of these weapons and armors and foods and coins and books. Normalcies and luxuries that made camp life feel less of a drab and more exciting. 

The gleaming, golden dagger at his side? They found it. The boots, the armor, the enchanted rings and necklaces they either found, bartered, or killed for their companions. Thus - Tav, short for tavara, the word meaning wares and merchandise; a clever little nickname Gale came up for their leader who is too good for all of them combined. 

“Any other party could whisk them away, you know,” Astarion says. “Tav could find a party of good, decent people, unlike any of us, without the mess and complication and hurt we cause them, and leave. Remember, my dears. It is not us who is irreplaceable. It is Tav.” 

How long would Tav tolerate him? Not long, he thinks. Long enough until he has expended his use for them, surely, but not forever. That's why anyone who wants Tav beyond sex or strength is a threat. If he hadn’t seduced his way into their heart, he wouldn’t be here where he stands, with a group of people who make him feel a little less alone. 

No doubt he would be in a cage on the back of a covered wagon that belongs to that disgusting gyr, Gandrel, his chain to Cazador growing shorter and shorter.

Silence. Tense and still. They watch as Tav laughs lightly, eyes alighting with amusement as Nilmorn cracks another joke. 

"You should meet my other companions," they hear Nilmorn offer, "I just know they would love to have you."

Revelation slams into each and every one of them like a magic missile.

“He’s not that funny,” Shadowheart mutters. She bends down, hands gripping tightly around the handle of her mace. “I don’t know why they are laughing that hard.”

“He can try to leave with his head on his shoulders,” snarls Lae’zel, “just say the word, Astarion.” 

Excellent. 

“What-” Wyll turns to Gale and Karlach. “We should stop them, shouldn’t we? There are no implications of this man trying to steal Tav away, he's just being nice, you worthless cunts! This is not fair to him!” 

“We’re in the Underdark, aren’t we? Super deep. Doubt anyone who cares for him will come looking for him.” 

“Karlach!” 

“Astute observation! To make this all a little easier on us, I can most certainly put this man to sleep.” 

“Gale?!” 

“Go on, Lae’zel,” Astarion grins wickedly, “attack!”

“Oh, hells,” Wyll stumbles back, then turns quickly to the other direction towards Halsin. “Halsin! Halsin - they’re trying to murder someone again!” 

❥ Additional links: kofi | ao3

[macgyvermedical]

Virtual Offerings for Humans and Writers

I am a Registered Nurse, have a Master of Public Health and experience in hospital floor nursing, outpatient nursing, public health nursing, and education. I am establishing a base of virtual offerings for anyone who is interested. Thanks for perusing my wares!

Note that everything here can be done via videocall, phone call, discord message, email, or text, as appropriate for the situation.

My contact email for this work is consultingwhumper@gmail.com.

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New! I also teach physical exam skills online. Great for if you missed them in nursing or medical school (I taught exam skills for 4 years to med students) or if you’re just interested as a lay person. I promise I am nicer than the last person who taught them to you!

Need something that's not on the list? Just ask!

[sesiondemadrugada]

Dracula (Tod Browning, 1931).

[crowthis]

PFC Eugene B. Sledge

Co. K, 3rd Bn., 5th Marines

First Marine Div.

c/o FPO San Francisco Calif.

Dec. 7, 1944

Dear Pop,

I received the packages of nuts & laundry powder & brushes. They really make my washing a lot easier. The Hersheys, cheese crackers, more cookies, cocoa, and Georgia Cottage earth arrived. The latter I sprinkled around my bunk & I feel like I'm once again on family ground. I really I certainly got a kick out of the crow foot & feathers & attached cards.

I read "Song to Remember" in a movie magazine this morning. It was the gist of the movie of the life of Fred Chopin. It was very interesting & I enjoyed it. Every one in my tent gets a lot of pleasure from the magazines you & Mummie have sent. I lay in my bunk by the hour & read. You & Mummie can rest assured that I've enjoyed your packages equally as much as you did sending them. I certainly appreciate it and all the love they represent.

If you can't find me some sort of 98[cent] watch & if my wrist watch is repaired please send the latter to me as I do need some sort of watch. Be sure & insure it. Do you remember the small pipe you had with the metal filter & shaped [picture of pipe]. I liked it for its strait, screw on stem, small squatty bowl & metal filter. I thought if you could find it I'd like it if you don't use it. The pipe I have [picture of pipe] is from Sid & pretty nice but I prefer a metal filter & don't like a tall bowl. I guess I'm lowly for asking for anything after all the wonderful packages. I hope you don't think I'm greedy. Tell Mom all the contents of the packages have been fresh and good & all the packages arrived in fine shape. All the boys say I'm really blessed with devoted parents. I inform them thats very very true. I got a nice package from Uncle Woolsey & I wrote him last nite.

Well Pop I have run out of news. As I look over at my bunk with a copy of Field & Stream & a box of cookies on it I feel the need to remove my shoes & relax. This rest snows me but I guess we really earned it. My love to you & Mummie.

Devotedly, Gene

(over)

P.S. Give Floyd my regards & the same to the Wares. Tell them I hope I'm back home hunting with you in the big field next Dec. 7. I got a nice letter from Ed yesterday & I wrote last nite. I hope the rest of the little ducks get along O.K.

Love, Gene

Two packages just arrived. One from Mom & one from Mrs. Butler. Some cheese crackers & a flashlight and some lifesavers were in the boxes. Pop please cease sending baby canned food. It's too rich for me & besides the mortar section takes great glee in "Say Sledgehammer did you get any baby food today?" I can take teasing but thats too much. Be careful how you tell Mummie because I don't want to hurt her & besides everything else is swell. I wrote you about it for I know you'll understand. Now don't let Mummie misunderstand & get her feelings hurt. Tell her its too rich for me, it really is. Everything else is just what I like.

Love, Gene

[ladykailitha]

The Harrington Pattern Part 8

We have finally got to the part that started this whole story. Steve being validated by a professional.

Robin gets a pretty dress. And Eddie gets a little jealous.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!!

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Eddie joined them at the shop just as they were finishing up. Will used the extra ten he had to buy Steve a pretty little dagger that was mostly a letter opener, but Steve fell in love with it.

The dagger was silver with a moon in the hilt, the cross guard had moonstones on either side. It was nestled in a black velvet box that he was told he had to leave the dagger in and not pull it out while at the fair.

Steve promised he wouldn’t and turned around to nearly run right into Eddie.

“Whoa!” Eddie said, putting out his hands to steady Steve. “I didn’t realize I was that close to you.”

Steve blushed. “You get your schedule sorted for tomorrow?”

Eddie grinned. “Sure did, sweet thing. Will get his staff?”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so happy,” Steve said with a smile. He jutted his thumb behind him to where Will was happily chatting with the seller.

Eddie peered around Steve to see where he was pointing and sure enough, Will was talking to the guy about magical users in DND and how they should expand it to include other types.

Will spotted Eddie and said goodbye to the seller. He rushed over to where Steve and he were talking.

He held out the staff for Eddie to look at. “What do you think?”

Eddie and Steve shared a fond smile. “It looks great. Will the Wise has finally got a staff worthy of him.”

Will blushed.

“We should put it in Eddie’s van,” Steve suggested, “so it doesn’t get stolen.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Why my van?”

“Because it won’t fit in my car,” he replied with a blush staining his cheeks and creeping up his ears.

Eddie cackled. “Fair enough, Stevie!” He looked around and spotted Gareth with an arm full of all sorts of wares, from swords and armor, to decorative goblets and boxes that no doubt held jewelry.

“Hey Gare!” he said following an ear piercing whistle.

The younger man lit up and jogged over to the trio.

“Hey, Ed!” Gareth said with a shit eating grin. “You like my haul?”

Eddie shook his head. “Sometimes I think your parents have more money than sense, but I’m not about to begrudge a well plotted haul.”

Gareth grinned. “Oh, they absolutely have more money than sense. I just know how to use that to my advantage.”

Will and Steve laughed with them.

Eddie pulled out his keys. “Since you’re clearly in need to be relieved of your loot or grow three extra arms, you should take Will to stash your stuff for later.”

Will’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s a great idea!”

Steve just shook his head fondly as he watched the two boys walk off chatting about their prizes.

“It’s nice to see Will come out of his shell around new people,” he said to Eddie. “He really needs friends outside of the Party.”

Eddie nodded. “And it helps that I forced them to be read in with Wayne because there was no way I was going to keep a secret that big with the people who are my family.”

They began their stroll through the other stalls, stopping here and there.

Steve spotted a clothing shop and armory and he sided eyed it longingly. There was no way he would the money for anything in that shop. He chewed his bottom lip and was about to move along, when Eddie grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward a black leather cloak.

Steve was admiring the construction when he heard a voice behind him say, “That’s a neat tunic, but you do know that you’re supposed to wear a chain shirt under that specific kind, right?”

Steve turned around to see a buxom red head in a bodice and flowing red dress. Her hair was piled messily on her head, but Steve could tell it was artfully done as the structure seemed too sound to be accidental.

“Can’t afford the see the armorer,” he said with a wink and a half shrug.

She laughed. “I guess I deserved that.”

Eddie smirked.

“I like your tunic,” the red head said, looking Steve up and down. Eddie bristled next to him. “Where did you get it from?”

Steve grinned, placing a comforting hand on Eddie’s elbow. “I made it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “No shit. Really?”

“Yes, he did,” Eddie defended. “He’s amazing.”

Steve flushed with pleasure at his praise. “I dabble. I’ve been sewing for about a decade now.”

She walked up to him and admired the stitching on the hem on the tunic. “That’s really impressive.”

“Thanks, I was admiring your work on the construction of the cloak here,” Steve said. “Was it hand sewn?”

“Fuck no!” she said, rolling her eyes. “I wouldn’t have time to breathe if I did that.” She smiled to have him join in on her joke. But when Steve continued looking at her in awe. “Wait...” she said, as it slowly dawned on her. “You did all of this by hand?”

She brought the hem of his tunic up to her face. Steve blushed and Eddie batted her hand away.

“Oi! Don’t get fresh!”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I think a name would be a good start before you go and get grabby,” he growled.

“Oh!” she said slapping her forehead. “Right, sorry! I’m Katie. I run Damsel in this Dress. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Steve and this is Eddie,” Steve said.

Eddie looked only slightly mollified and Steve rubbed his lower back soothingly. Eddie preened, leaning into the touch.

Steve cleared his throat. “But anyways, yeah I stitched it all by hand. My parents didn’t think a boy should ‘play’ with a sewing machine.” He put play in air quotes.

Katie’s eyes went wide and she looked back at the tunic hem in her hand. “But it’s so tight and even...”

Eddie grinned. “Isn’t he amazing?”

She looked over at him. “He do yours too?”

Steve shook his head. “No, not his.” He spotted Robin walking by. “But I see someone else’s outfit I worked on.”

“Robin!” he called out.

His soulmate came to a...well stop wouldn’t be quiet accurate as she kept in motion, flailing around a bit trying to regain her balance from her aborted step.

“Steve!” she called back and hurried over to him.

Katie looked her up and down. “You did her costume too?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at Steve.

Robin grinned. “Hell yeah, he did! He’s awesome!”

Katie looked back and forth between them. “May I look?”

“Oh I know!” Eddie said cheerfully. “Why don’t they try on something of yours so that you can take a look at their costumes without you having to get all handsy.”

Robin raised an eyebrow at Eddie but turned gleefully to Katie. “That sounds like a great compromise.”

Katie cocked her head back and forth. “Could do, I suppose.”

Steve immediately went for the chain shirts, while Robin wandered around some.

“You’d look pretty in one of my corsets,” Katie said waiting for Steve to get out of the tunic to hand it to her.

Robin blushed. “Aren’t they like painful and gross?”

Katie laughed clear and bright. “Not really. For centuries they were the only form of support a women had. Now, there were tight lacing bodices and corsets, but that wouldn’t happen until much later.”

Robin chewed her bottom lip. She really liked the blue dress and the blue and gold corset. “Can I try on those?” She pointed to the ones she liked.

“What’s your bra size?” Katie asked pulling out the right size dress.

“Uh...” Robin said with a blush. “It’s not very...”

Katie nodded. “It’s fine. I think I’ve got the right one for you anyway, but if it’s too tight or too loose let me know and I’ll find a different size.”

Robin nodded and Steve came out of the dressing room to hand her his tunic.

Eddie let out a low whistle. “Looking good, Sir Stephen.”

Steve did a slow turn and both Eddie and Katie gave him appraising glances.

Robin peeked her head out form behind the curtain. “Um...help?”

Katie was immediately by her side. “What’s up?”

Robin walked out with the laces in her hands and corset not tied.

“Oh!” Katie said. “God, the heat must getting to my brain today. Odd’s Botkins!”

She grabbed laces and showed Robin how to lace it properly.

“How does fit?” she asked stepping back to admire her creation on Robin.

Robin grinned. “I never realized how much I slouched until just now.”

“Yeah,” Katie said with a laugh, “I hear that a lot.” She spun Robin around causing the skirt of the dress to billow out like water rippling in the breeze.

“Wow, Robbie,” Steve said in awe. “That’s gorgeous.”

Eddie hummed his agreement. “Looking good, Buckster!”

Robin squeaked and then dashed back into the dressing room. She came back out with the shirt Steve had altered for her.

Katie took the shirt and tunic and laid them both out on the counter where the cash box was.

“It’s literally seamless,” she said in awe. “And you did this by hand?”

Steve nodded. “But I’ve been doing it for years so...” He half shrugged.

“Hey, man,” Eddie huffed, “don’t diminish your awesomeness. This is hell of a job.”

Steve nodded, blush creeping back up on his cheeks again.

“What’s this?” Katie asked, tapping the embroidery on the hems of both pieces. It was a lovely little floral pattern that was off white on Robin’s shirt so that it blended in, but was a striking silver on Steve’s tunic.

Eddie leaned forward. “Oh, I never noticed that before.” He smiled widely at Steve. “It’s cute.”

Steve flushed even deeper, the red now covering his whole face. “It’s a little something I add to all of my designs. It’s a little signature if you will, so you’ll always know I made it.”

“A Harrington pattern?” Robin asked, leaning over to inspect the embroidery, too.

Steve nodded.

“Have you thought about selling your pieces?” Katie asked. “You could be making bank with these.” She lifted up the shirt to emphasize her point.

Steve shrugged. “Sure, but I wouldn’t have any idea where to sell them or who to sell them to.”

“I’ll sell them for you,” she said, “for a cut of the profits, of course. I sell at gaming and comic conventions, Ren fairs, sci-fi and fantasy conventions.”

Steve chewed on his lip. “I don’t make them very quickly. With them being all hand sewn.”

“Which makes it all the more valuable,” Katie insisted. “A hand sewn dress from a major clothing designer would be worth thousands, sweetie.”

Robin mouthed the word ‘thousand’ in shock.

Eddie pounded Steve on the shoulder. “Hell yeah! Just sell a couple of pieces every once in while and you’ll always having spending money.”

Steve thought it over and then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

Katie and Robin cheered while Eddie and Steve shared a warm smile between them. A smile that sent butterflies through Steve’s chest. Eddie was always there for him.

Always.

Katie pulled out a business card. “Give me a call when you’ve got pieces you want to sell. And don’t leave off that signature either. Your Harrington Pattern as your friend called it.”

Steve took the card frowning. “But won’t that make it harder to sell? Especially the male stuff?”

She shook her head. “The people that buy this sort of thing are the last people that would care about a floral design, particularly since it would make it more authentic.”

He blinked and mouthed ‘oh’. She was right. “Yeah okay.” He lifted the card. “Thanks for this. I guess Robin and I better go change out of these so you can have them back.”

Katie shook her head. “Think of them as an investment in Steve Harrington’s clothing venture.” She lit up and dashed over to the cloaks. She grabbed the leather one that Eddie had been admiring and held it out to him.

“For you too.”

Eddie blinked, he wanted to turn it down and would have, had Steve not taken it and draped it on his shoulders.

The inside had a soft almost fur like material that was a slate grey. It would be too hot to wear in the summer, but in winter he would be outright toasty in it.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure if he was thanking her or Steve, but it didn’t really matter. He was grateful to both. He looked up at Robin.

“You’ll probably want to change out of yours, Robbie,” he said, carefully removing the cloak and draping it over his arm.

“Why’s that?” she asked with a pout.

A grin took over Eddie’s face. The mischievous one that always sent a lance of heat in Steve’s gut every time he saw it. “Because you’ll want to look rocking for the joust tomorrow.”

Katie grinned too. “That is an excellent idea, good sir!”

Robin seemed to agree because she grabbed her shirt and dashed back into the dressing room.

Steve was surprised she remembered the shirt, if he was honest.

Katie and Eddie helped him get the tunic over the chain shirt without snagging the cloth on the metal.

Robin came out mere seconds later with her prizes clutched to her chest.

“Thank you!” she squealed. “I can’t wait to wear it tomorrow!”

They all went to the parking lot to put away Eddie and Robin’s prizes. The cloak in the van, and the dress and corset in the trunk of Steve’s car.

Steve was grinning from ear to ear and couldn’t stop.

****

Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Damsel in This Dress is an actual Ren Faire staple from where I'm from.

Yup, still on my Gareth lives in Loch Nora agenda.

And while I don't ship Will/Gareth Will needs friends who aren't trauma bonded, you know?

MY TAG LIST FOR THIS STORY IS CLOSED!!!

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1@zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @lololol-1234 @nightmareglitter

[truly-sincerely]

Laughing because we got to the recap episode where Hohenheim argues with himself about whether humans suck or not and I said "this has depressed immortal dad energy" and Elli got so mad because she knows I'm right.

Apropos of nothing, Elli has made me watch her play thru Tales of Symphonia twice now and keeps threatening to do a third playthru and there's nothing I can do about it.

I regret to inform everyone that we just watched FMA Brotherhood episode 17 and I am now, unfortunately, obsessed with Roy Mustang.

Please send condolences and well wishes to my beautiful wife, Elliwiny

[ataliagold]

the edges of your soul i haven't seen yet

This came from wanting to expand on the ideas in 'you're the only one who knows, you slow it down', but consider this a new fic with very similar ideas. I'm not sure how long it'll be yet, but here's the first chapter. Title from Forever by Noah Kahan.

Also on AO3 here.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: T (currently)

Tags: modern au, no upside down, autistic steve, steve has a service cat, eddie and steve fall in love while working at a farmers' market, stimming, autistic meltdowns/shutdowns/stimming, platonic soulmates steve and robin, eddie is a sweetheart

Summary: Eddie's reluctantly helping Wayne with his produce stall at the farmers' market. He's resigned himself to a boring summer - until a new face shows up at the market to run a baking stall with his best friend. Steve is...odd, like no one Eddie's ever met.

And it doesn't take him long to fall head over heels for him.

___

Chapter One

Eddie isn’t particularly enjoying his morning.

Not yet, anyway.

He grunts as Wayne loads another box into his arms, adjusting his footing under the weight of the produce, of apples and pears, oranges and grapefruit, of avocados and sweet potatoes and carrots and lettuces…

“Right, that’s the last of it,” Wayne announces, dusting his hands off and locking his pick-up behind him.

“Thank fuck,” Eddie grumbles. He makes his way towards their stall, cursing as he trips a little and loses an apple or two. There’s sweat dripping down his spine already, this summer proving to be particularly hot and humid even at eight fucking thirty a.m.

But Eddie had promised Wayne he’d help him out at the farmers’ market this weekend, since he had nothing better on, since his friends had actually gotten in to colleges and were busy getting ready to move away, since Eddie had been sort of…left behind, with nothing to do but trail after his uncle like a bad smell.

He does as he’s told. Sets the boxes down where Wayne points, helps him set the produce out, puts the little cardboard signs with the prices scribbled on them at the front of the table.

Once that’s finished, Eddie sinks into a plastic camp chair with a sigh, reaching for an apple and loudly crunching into it, ignoring the half-hearted glare Wayne shoots back at him.

There’s only a couple of people here this early – mostly other stall-holders setting up, the occasional dog-walker taking a non-committal glance at the wares, an old lady or two with purses clutched close to their middles.

It’s gonna be a boring morning.

Eddie chucks his headphones on, cranks the music as loud as he’ll get away with, and settles in for several hours of withering in the heat and making sure no one pockets an extra pear.

Eventually, his gaze wanders.

Wayne’s talking to a customer, something about the growing season for oranges or some shit, when Eddie claps eyes on the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.

He sits up. Swallows, stares because he can’t help it.

There’s a literal god unfolding a table not far away, placing a thin yellow blanket on the top, smoothing it out just so. He’s about Eddie’s age, all olive skin dotted with moles and broad shoulders and golden hair that’s fallen effortlessly into place. Glasses frame his face, his perfect fucking face with those pink lips and square jaw, and even from here Eddie can see the look of concentration on the boy’s face, his brows slightly drawn together as he tucks the blanket in at the corners, as he readjusts several times to make sure it’s completely straight on the table.

A light smack to his knee jolts Eddie out of his daze, forces him to drag his gaze reluctantly back to Wayne. Wayne, who’s frowning at him, shaking his head.

“Turn your damn music down, Eds,” Wayne huffs, “need ya to dig me out some change.”

Eddie doesn’t argue. Lets Wayne believe he was distracted by his music, not by the boy several stalls over.

He rifles through their tin of change, picking out a few quarters, and then sneaks a look back again.

The boy’s bent over the table, light-wash jeans pulled tight across his ass, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s openly gaping at the guy right now but he can’t fucking help it. It’s a baking stall, by the look of the cupcakes and cookies the boy’s currently placing out on the table, tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth as he works. The boy pauses for a moment in front of the table, as if assessing his wares for anything out of place.

“Eddie!” Wayne says again, exasperated. “You got that change, or what?”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut. Turns back to Wayne, hands him the change which his uncle takes with a shake of his head. Once the customer has left with a paper bag of carrots in hand, Eddie makes a decision.

“You want a cookie?” he asks Wayne.

“Huh?”

“A cookie,” Eddie repeats, slowly.

Wayne looks down at his watch. “It’s barely gone nine a.m.”

“So? I’m getting one. You want one, or not?”

After Wayne declines, Eddie heads off with a shrug, making straight for the tall boy still frowning down at his baking, thumb drawing anxious patterns on his index finger.

As he approaches, Eddie’s words die in his throat.

He’d planned on flirting. Was ready to try and charm the pants right off this boy, as quickly as he decently could.

But the closer he got, the more the butterflies began in his stomach.

Because somehow, he only got more attractive with every step Eddie took.

And yeah, he wasn’t usually one for ironed polos and blue jeans and bright white Nikes that looked meticulously clean, but Eddie’s cheeks were reddening and his heart was pounding when he reached the stall.

The boy didn’t turn around at his approach.

Not until Eddie clears his throat a little awkwardly, hand brushing over the back of his neck. Sheepish. Shy. Two things he’s never been in his whole fucking life.

“Uh…hi,” Eddie starts.

The boy’s eyes widen behind his glasses. His hands grasp each other, almost frantically, and his gaze darts from Eddie, to the table, to somewhere off behind him. He opens his mouth briefly, but closes it again without speaking.

Huh, Eddie thinks.

Well, maybe the guy’s even shyer than he is right now.

Eddie tries again. “I saw you setting up, looks good. The…the baking, I mean, not…not you setting up. Well, that too, honestly, but I thought…” Eddie trails off, internally kicking himself.

You fucking idiot, Munson.

The boy blinks at him.

When he still doesn’t speak, Eddie shifts from foot to foot a little, then finally steps over to the table.

“Well, I’m just gonna have a look, if that’s ok?”

The boy nods. Quick, his head jerking a little, the movement stiff and awkward.

Eddie feels his eyes boring into his back as he scans the table. There’s cupcakes with piped-on frosting in several different patterns but all of them yellow, matching the boy’s soft polo that was clinging unfairly to his chest. There’s slices of brownies, cookies of varying flavours, apple pie and cinnamon donuts and red velvet cake and shortbread…

“Did you make all of these?” Eddie asks, a little in awe.

Polo-boy nods, not meeting Eddie’s eye. He’s wringing his hands, clenching his jaw, repeatedly glancing over Eddie’s shoulder as if he’s looking for someone.

“Shit, that’s…there’s so much different stuff here, how long did it take you?” And Eddie’s genuinely curious, he’s not just talking for the sake of it, for the purpose of squeezing at least a word or two out of this guy. Because everything on that table was meticulous – the cookies perfectly round, the pie sliced into completely even pieces, not even a stray dribble of batter or frosting on the cupcake liners (also yellow, Eddie noted) – there’s so much effort gone into this, and Eddie’s impressed.

The boy wants to speak, it looks like.

Eddie waits while he opens and closes his mouth a few times, flapping a hand in front of him.

“Hey Stevie, everything ok?”

A girl wanders over with several cake boxes in her arms, glancing between Stevie and Eddie. She’s got short hair, a dusting of freckles across her face, and a yellow top on to match the boy in front of Eddie, who relaxes a tiny bit as soon as he sees her.

He nods, but doesn’t stop clenching his hands together over his stomach.

The girl puts the boxes down, and steps over to the boy.

“Hey, it’s ok,” she murmurs softly, “we talked about this, remember? You’re fine, just…take a breath, ok?”

Eddie turns away from them. Senses this isn’t a conversation meant for him, and brings his attention back to the table, pretending he’s just…really interested in cupcakes all of a sudden. But he’s only a couple of feet away, and the girl doesn’t seem to care that he can overhear.

“Has he asked to buy something?”

“No.”

It’s the first time Eddie’s heard the boy speak. His voice is quiet, not much above a whisper, but Eddie wants to hear more of it.

“He wanted to know how long it took me,” the boy continues, “to make everything.”

“Ok…so did you answer?”

“No. Wanted to.”

“Your words get stuck?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, that’s ok. Here, I’ll help you.”

“Robin -”

“You gotta try, Stevie. You can do it, come on.”

Eddie turns back to them as Robin tows the guy – Stevie? – over by his sleeve.

“Hi.” She grins at Eddie, and the boy stands slightly behind her, looking down at his feet. “This is Steve, I’m Robin. It’s our first time at a market and Steve’s kinda nervous. Can we help you with anything?”

Eddie’s eyes flick back to Steve, to his red cheeks and long eyelashes. His heart thuds in his chest.

He smiles at them. “I’m Eddie, my uncles got a stall just over there.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “We sell fruit and shit. This is really your first day? Your set up is…really nice.”

“Thanks.” Robin beams even wider. “It was all Steve really, he did all the baking too, I’m just here to help out.”

Eddie nods slowly. Steve’s still avoiding his eye, no matter how much Eddie tries to catch it.

Swallowing his disappointment, he points to one of the chocolate chip cookies on the table.

“Can I get one of those, please?”

Robin nods briskly. “Steve, can you sort that?” She nudges him slightly in the side, and Steve springs into action, seemingly happy to give his hands something to do as he grabs a paper bag and looks around the table for something.

He freezes suddenly.

Robin’s back at his side immediately.

“Everything ok?” she asks quietly.

He shakes his head, flaps a hand at the table, face drawn tight in a frown.

“Where’s the…” he mumbles, trailing off.

“The what?” Robin prompts.

Steve bites his bottom lip, hands finding his thighs and tugging at his jeans, frustrated. Seemingly unable to find the word, he brings a hand up to chest height and makes a little snapping motion with his fingers.

“…tongs?” Robin guesses, and Steve nods briskly. “Maybe we left them in the car? I’ll go have a look.”

“It’s fine, you can just use your fingers,” Eddie offers, because he truly couldn’t care less.

Steve shakes his head vehemently, face tightening even further.

“Or…I could grab it?” Eddie tries, but Steve shakes his head again, looking so distressed that Eddie shuts up.

There’s a meow from somewhere behind the table.

A black and white cat emerges from under it, a red collar around its neck, and approaches Steve confidently, pressing up against his legs.

Steve ignores the cat, at first.

He’s digging a thumbnail into the meat of his palm, shuffling from foot to foot every so often, dragging a lip so hard between his teeth that Eddie’s worried he’s gonna make it bleed, and Eddie isn’t sure what to do. He wants to help, wants to somehow soothe the boy, but he isn’t sure how, thinks if he gets any closer to him he’ll only make things worse.

The cats meows again. Presses itself harder up against Steve, stretches up so its little front paws are against his thigh, kneading insistently, refusing to be ignored.

Steve sags a little. Reaches down with a trembling hand, strokes it across the cat’s head, and Eddie can hear the rumbling purr start up from the little creature. He watches as Steve loosens up, as his fingers unclench and his teeth release his lip and the frown fades slowly from his lovely face.

Robin returns, snapping the tongs triumphantly, and hands them to Steve.

He takes them happily and returns to his task, placing Eddie’s chosen cookie into the bag with more care than Eddie’s ever seen from someone serving him food before.

Eddie takes the offered bag, the divine scent wafting out and making his mouth water. Wayne was going to regret not asking for one, he knows.

Steve looks up, catches his eye for the tiniest moment, then his gaze ducks away.

“Thanks, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “This smells great, seriously. And if you guys need anything,” he looks over to Robin to include her, too, “come see me at the fruit stall, I’m just over there.” He points in the direction of Wayne, who’s no doubt getting grumpier by the minute at Eddie’s absence.

Please come, Eddie begs silently, eyeing Steve one last time before he turns away.

“Three days,” Steve blurts out as Eddie starts to walk away.

Eddie pauses, turns back to him.

Steve’s eyes are fixed on his shoes again, and he rocks back and forth on his heels slightly. Robin glances between the two of them, then looks hopefully back at Steve.

Eddie frowns slightly, about to question him, when Steve speaks again.

“It took me three days. To bake everything. Wanted it all to be perfect.”

Eddie smiles, wide and warm.

“It is, Steve.”

___

[venus-haze]

What's Your Pleasure? (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: Joining Vought’s newly announced superhero team Payback could be the big break you’re looking for. When it comes down to you and Crimson Countess for the last spot on the team, you’re shocked to hear Soldier Boy will be conducting your final interview. You shouldn’t be shocked at what it involves.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. I wanted to reflect the goofy ass superhero names that older supes had, so you’re Galaxy Girl. This takes place in the late 70s. Inspired by the Jessie Ware song. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo or ED content.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Casting couch situation. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion, power imbalance, some spanking, mentions of masturbation and oral sex. Drug and alcohol use by both characters. Reader is a horny dumbass. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

The scrap of paper that sat on your vanity had a hastily scribbled address and time that you’d practically memorized since you got the call from Vought International. You recognized the address right away, one of the nightclubs in the city that was favored by supes. As one of Vought’s affiliate superheroes, you’d been there a few times for events they held, whether to schmooze with their investors or party with other supes. It was, however, an odd place to hold an interview to join a superhero team.

Your competition was fierce, though. The last coveted spot in Payback had Vought executives in a deadlock as to whether you or Crimson Countess would be the best addition to the team. Countess was a powerful supe who you respected, unlike some of the other self-important clowns who ran around making a mess of Manhattan. Not to mention, the both of you had overwhelmingly positive approval ratings across most demographics. Unfortunately, you heard through the grapevine that fucking Swatto had already gotten a spot on Payback, and suddenly your slight edge of being able to fly was no more.

As you applied your signature makeup in the mirror of your vanity, you tried hyping yourself before the night that would make or break your career. You were Galaxy Girl, for fuck’s sake. Your powers allowed you to harness the sun and moon’s energy to create and control meteor showers. Sure, sometimes your aim would be a little off, and you’d accidentally rain flaming rocks into a person’s car or take out a backyard every now and then, but it was for the greater good.

Glancing at the worn photo of Soldier Boy taped to your mirror, one you’d cut out of a magazine when you were a kid, you felt a wave of anxiety crashing over you despite your best efforts. After looking up to him for years and getting into the hero business because of him, you weren’t sure if you could handle the rejection from him, no matter how much he might sugar coat it if he went with Countess instead of you.

Not being chosen to join Payback wouldn’t mean the immediate end of your career, but it’d flatline into obscurity inevitably. You’d heard the argument that supes were mostly in the hero game for the attention, and you couldn’t disagree as far as you were personally concerned. You sure as hell didn’t hate the fanfare and special treatment you got.

At a quarter to eight, you made your way out to the balcony of your apartment, taking off from there and flying in the direction of the club. Flying calmed your nerves the way going on long walks helped most people clear their heads. It was freeing and refreshing, and in a city like New York, you could fly at all hours of the night and see everything clear as day.

When you landed in front of the club, the crowd of people surrounding the bouncer parted momentarily, only to crowd you in a frenzy of people asking for your autograph. You obliged as best as you could before being pulled inside, nearly stumbling directly into the host. He was saying something to you as he led you to the tables that surrounded the dancefloor, but you could hardly hear over how loudly the DJ was playing Donna Summer. He stopped abruptly in his tracks, shouting that he was going to let Soldier Boy know you’d arrived.

You chewed on your lip as your gaze followed the host to the large booth that faced the raging dancefloor. There he was, in all of his glory, Soldier Boy. On paper, he was almost sixty years old, having been in his twenties during World War II. Being a supe had certainly done him well, because he didn’t look a day over forty.

For a moment, you felt like your legs were going to give out from under you when he looked in your direction, the slightest smirk on his face. After what felt like an eternity, the host returned to usher you over to Soldier Boy's table. You were reminded how slow and inconvenient walking was, wishing you could just fly over to him instead of snaking through the crowd of people.

Soldier Boy smiled when you stood in front of him. “Galaxy Girl, right on time.”

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, Soldier Boy–sir,” you said, quickly adding, “You can call me GG, by the way. If you want to, of course.”

“No, I like GG. It’s sexy,” he said, and you felt yourself smile despite yourself. “Take a seat.”

You nodded, sitting down next to him in the booth, but leaving a bit of space between you. Seeing the glass next to him calmed your nerves, and you knew after a drink you’d loosen up a bit. Sitting next to your hero, the prospect of working on his team sent a rush through you. Before you could say anything else, he shocked you with a compliment.

“You know, I saw that meteor shower you did for Vought’s investor gala last summer, pretty impressive,” he said.

“Thank you so much,” you said, trying to keep yourself from smiling too wide. “That’s so ceremonial, though. With my powers, I can—“

“I know what you can do, sweetheart. That’s why you’re here.”

“Right.”

“C’mere, why don’t we relax a little bit, get to know each other?” he said. “What’re you having?”

Almost as soon as he lifted his hand, a waiter practically materialized at the end of the table, pen and paper in hand to take down your drink order. Soldier Boy leaned over, effectively eliminating any space between the two of you. His body heat practically radiated onto you, and you caught the scent of a typical, masculine cologne and what you could’ve sworn was cinnamon.

The one drink was enough to lower your inhibitions and allow him to practically pull you onto his lap, his strong arms around your waist as his fingers brushed up and down the thin spandex material of your purple, iridescent costume. In all honesty, it felt less like an interview and more like a first date. He’d lean in close to talk to you, the club’s loud music a good excuse, though you tried not to stare at the face you’d only seen in movies, posters, and your own dreams.

He’d been in the middle of ordering more drinks when you heard your own, altered voice booming through the club. Galaxy Girl Groove, a disco single that Vought ordered to boost your youthful appeal. You didn’t do very much of your own singing on it, but that didn’t seem to matter to the DJs that had it spinning on their turntables from New York to Europe. It was something you were proud of in any other situation, but sitting next to your idol, it just felt corny.

Flying through the galaxy All this love for you and me Can you feel it? Can you feel it?

“Oh my god, I swear I didn’t plan this.”

He shook his head, to your relief. “No, this is a good song. You looked great when you sang it on Solid Gold, but damn, color TV doesn’t do your ass justice.”

“I—thank you,” you gasped, feeling him grope your ass through the thin layer of elastic fabric.

Your head was spinning from the confidence boost. Walking into the club earlier that night, you never expected your long-time supe crush to find you attractive, let alone hot. He, on the other hand, knew he was attractive, from the way he carried himself and acted around you. The conversation shifted by drink three, when you decided to call it as far as anything remotely alcoholic went.

“What got you into the supe business?” he asked.

You hid your face in your hands, giggling at his question. “I’m going to sound like such a kiss ass if I say it.”

“Now I gotta hear it.”

“You did—Don’t look at me like that, it’s true! Oh my god I drove my parents crazy talking about you when I was growing up. Your D-Day speech from ‘The Soldier Boy Story’ was my senior yearbook quote.”

He licked his lips, “Yeah? Was I the first guy you got yourself off to?”

“Sorry?”

“C’mon, you don’t get voted America’s sexiest supe two decades running without being finger-banging material. So what was it? Poster on the ceiling? Magazine under the pillowcase?”

“Poster on the ceiling,” you answered quietly, the lightness you’d felt in his presence suddenly feeling oppressively dark as he nearly gave you whiplash at how quickly he shifted the tone of the conversation.

“Which one?”

“You’re standing on a tank, and the tank gun is sticking out between your legs—“

“That one’s a classic. You’ve got great taste, GG.”

“I’m sorry, what does this have to do with Payback?”

“Everything. I mean, it’s my team. Wouldn’t wanna work with someone who doesn’t like me,” he said, as if asking a prospective hire about their masturbatory history was normal. “I need people on my team who respect me and know how to take orders. No second guessing when the going gets tough.”

His intense gaze made you feel six inches tall, looking up at the looming symbol of American heroism. You may as well have been standing at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial, trying to scale your way up Honest Abe with your bare hands. The implication of his words weren’t what caused your sudden feelings of discomfort, but rather frustration at your own naivete for going into this so-called interview without considering this would happen. Stars were born under pressure, you knew as much from your powers, but figuratively, it’s how things worked in Hollywood too. Thinking Vought would be an exception to the rule was laughably short-sighted.

Even if you didn’t get into Payback, you’d already admitted your long-standing infatuation to his face. You’d fantasized about him, imagined he’d be every bit of the all-American dream man, and the place in your heart that was still filled with mushy nostalgia for the world’s first superhero hardened to stone before you could blink. Turning him down would be weak posturing at best and surely get you on Vought’s shit list at worst. You did want to fuck him, but you would’ve preferred different circumstances.

“I’m a team player. I’ll do whatever it takes,” you said.

“Why don’t we take this somewhere a little more private, then?”

“Lead the way.”

Though you slid off of his lap, he kept his arm around your waist as the two of you got out of the booth. He led you back through the club, past the dancefloor and the maze of occupied tables that broke into whispers at the sight of the two of you together. The realization hit you, he wanted them to see you leaving with him, purposely took the long way to the elevator that was guarded by a bouncer, who immediately moved out of the way for Soldier Boy.

The elevator ride was short yet tense. You were locked in on his profile while he looked straight ahead, his only acknowledgement of your presence the gentle squeeze of your hip. The elevator doors opened far too soon but not soon enough, and you walked with him down the dimly lit hallway. He stopped in front of the door, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocked it. You didn’t even know this club had private suites, but then again, you weren’t important enough to have one.

The suite had a sophisticated sleaze that only money could buy, from the generous animal prints to the abundant reflective surfaces in the room. The bed on the far side of the room was bigger than any other you’d seen in your life, and you began to wonder how the hell it even fit through the door in the first place until you heard a loud sniff come from behind you.

Turning around, you saw Soldier Boy wiping his nose, two lines of coke left on the coffee table that he sat in front of. He wasn’t the first person you’d ever met who took drugs, hell, you did too, but he was the one with his face plastered on anti-drug PSAs.

“You want any? It’ll calm your nerves,” he offered.

“I’m not nervous,” you said.

He hummed in response. “No?”

You shook your head, though you knew he could see right through you. He stood up, staring you down for a moment before making his way over to you. Your confidence waned with each step he took, an amused expression on his face as your facade crumbled until you let out a shaky breath when his lips were hardly an inch from yours.

He kissed you, full of the aggression and experience you’d always imagined him having. His full lips were soft against yours. Even then, your fantasies paled in comparison to the feeling of his tongue in your mouth as you let him take you as he wanted. You liked that he was so cocky and sure of himself, not feeling the least bit embarrassed that you played right into his hands.

Though he moved to pull away, you weren’t about to let the kiss end just yet, gently nipping at his bottom lip. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he obliged your unspoken desire.

“Why don’t you take this off for me,” he ordered softly, tugging at your costume.

He made himself comfortable on the edge of the large bed. Even if he wanted some kind of strip tease, you weren’t sure if you could manage something like that gracefully with how your costume hugged your body. It made you look and feel incredible, but it was a pain to take off. Fuck it. If the way you undressed was a dealbreaker for him, you could live.

To your relief, the opposite seemed true. He palmed his crotch through his own costume as you shimmied out of yours, shedding your platform boots and gloves. Keeping his earlier comment about your ass in mind, you turned around when you pulled off your spandex leggings, making a show of bending over.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned under his breath.

You turned around to unzip your top, the last of your costume that you were still wearing, letting it fall to the ground. You, on the other hand, floated a few inches above your discarded costume, pride pumping through your veins as Soldier Boy stared in awe.

Flying the short distance across the room, you landed in front of him, your feet barely touching the ground before he grabbed you. You’d nearly forgotten how strong he was, but he almost knocked the wind out of you with how he pulled you onto the bed with him, pinning you to the silk sheets.

He kissed you again, though you moaned into his mouth as he rutted his clothed cock against your bare pussy, the rough material brushing against your clit. You dug your nails into his shoulders, lifting your hips to get more of the burning friction that felt good despite the discomfort. You couldn’t believe you’d been so unimaginative in your fantasies of him, all so soft and serene, as if you were afraid to truly confront the wanton desire you had for him.

He let out what you could only describe as a growl before he flipped you over, landing a harsh smack to your ass. “All fours, sweetheart.”

As soon as you pushed yourself onto your hands and knees, he rutted his clothed cock against your ass, his fingers playing with your clit. Digging your fingers into the sheets, you pressed yourself closer to him. Who cared if he thought you were desperate? You were desperate after fantasizing about him for so long. There was no guarantee it’d happen again, anyway.

He slapped each of your ass cheeks, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the force he used. Your skin stung, and you let out a shaky breath when you heard him unzipping his fly. It wasn’t taking him that long to undress, but you were antsy and curious, turning your head to sneak a glimpse of him naked. Your breath hitched at the size of his cock. His bravado sure as hell wasn’t compensating for anything.

He spanked you again, harder than before. “Did I say you could look?”

“No.”

You dug your teeth into your lower lip when he slapped you again.

“No, what?”

“No, sir,” you whimpered, turning to face the headboard again.

“That’s better.”

A moment later, he slipped his hand between your legs, his fingers feeling how wet you’d become at his manhandling your body.

“Fuck, you’re soaked. You like it rough, huh?” he asked, his voice teasing as he rubbed circles on your clit.

“Yes, sir.”

His cock pushed between your folds, slowly filling you before he began to thrust, nearly knocking you flat on your face. His pace was rough and relentless. He clearly had no intention of going easy on you, landing smacks to your ass as he pounded into you. The pain was intense, raw and unfamiliar, but you wanted more, even if it meant you wouldn’t be able to sit for the next few days.

The sound filling the space was nothing short of obscene between the slapping of skin and your pained moans. Throwing your head back, you could barely make out with your blurred vision the distorted reflection of you and Soldier Boy from the mirror on the ceiling. You clenched around him at the thought of how primal and exploitative it was, his cock claiming your pussy just so you’d have a chance at a spot on his team. You moaned, unabashedly turned on by the fucked up situation.

“You close, baby? You gonna cum for me?”

“I—fuck—yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he growled.

With another thrust that made you feel like your arms were going to give out from under you, you came, tears clouding your vision as all you could feel was pleasure and his hot cum pumping inside you. You’d grabbed the sheets beneath you, squeezing them in your fists as you rode out your orgasm. A tingling sensation in your fingertips was followed by a slight burning smell. Fuck. You burned through his sheets.

As soon as he pulled out, you collapsed onto your back, a hand on your chest as you tried to catch your breath. The bed shifted as he moved to sit next to you, his tongue darting out from between his lips.

“I was just gonna have you suck my cock, but I’ve only had better fucks at Herogasm.”

“Yeah?” you asked, a teasing smile on your face.

He kissed you again, his strong hands squeezing your thighs. “How about you? Nothing like the real thing, huh?”

You could only manage a breathless ‘yes’ in response as you sat up, which was good enough for him. He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a joint and a lighter. This time, you accepted his offer when he held out the joint to you. Though, instead of handing it over, he put his arm around your shoulders, bringing his hand to your lips. The action felt oddly intimate as you inhaled.

You closed your eyes for a few seconds before looking at him again. “Well, now I’m gonna fail a drug test if I get the job.”

He snickered as he toked, coughing a bit. “If Vought drug tested supes, they would’ve dropped my ass years ago.”

“Sorry about the sheets, by the way,” you said.

“The what—“ He looked over, seeing the holes scorched in the sheets you’d been clinging to. “Shit, that’s actually kinda hot.”

After a few silent moments, you spoke again. “When will I know? If I got the spot in Payback, I mean.”

He shrugged noncommittally. “You’ll get a call in a few days.”

A few days. At least you had some idea of when you’d hear back. Reluctantly, you got up from the comfortable bed, feeling a bit of a chill from the absence of his body heat. You got dressed, glancing at yourself in a mirror on the wall. Your lipstick was smeared, mascara smudged, and the glitter on your cheeks had spread all over your face. At least you wouldn’t have to do any kind of walk of shame out of the place.

“Mind if I leave from here?” you asked, pointing to the window.

He grinned. “Go for it.”

“Have a good night, Soldier Boy.”

“You too, GG.”

Opening the window, you pushed off from the ledge and into the air, soaring above the traffic below. Some of the people standing around and walking down the street recognized you, pointing you out to those around them. Hiding in a place like New York was almost impossible for a supe, and you never bothered with a secret identity like some of your peers did. Besides, you wanted to be recognized, for the city to know who Galaxy Girl was, so you indulged the onlookers with waves and a big smile as you flew by.

As soon as you landed on your apartment’s balcony, you felt a rush of conflicting emotions. There was a little bit of disappointment in being that desperate for a spot on Payback, but mostly, you felt excited disbelief. Despite the circumstances, you and Soldier Boy fucked, something you’d admitted to his face that you spent years resigning to the confines of your most intimate fantasies. Even if you didn’t get chosen for the team, you could live with coming out of the whole thing with nothing more than knowing he was a good lay.

The next few days passed with an anticipation that turned your stomach sour. You stopped a few crimes, did a publicity appearance at a new club, and hoped to god you wouldn’t run into Crimson Countess at some point. You had no idea if her interview went similarly to yours, though you could only assume it did. That didn’t bother you, but you didn’t want her to potentially end up being the bearer of bad news.

Every time you left your apartment, you worried that the phone would ring while you were gone, and you’d miss the most important call of your career. Just after you woke up one morning, the phone rang, and as you’d done since you left the club that night, you rushed into the kitchen to answer it.

“Hello, is this Galaxy Girl?”

“Speaking.”

“I’m calling on behalf of Vought International. A decision has been made on the last position in Payback, and the board would like to extend a formal offer to you as the newest member of—“

The phone fell from your hand, knocking against the wall as it swung back and forth on the chord. You could hardly process the confused, muffled voice on the other end of the line asking if you were still there. The next hour went by in a blur, as you got yourself together and flew over to Vought Tower.

You walked into the conference room to find that the only available seat was next to Soldier Boy, who was sitting among the Vought executives. The board members gave you their congratulations, a lawyer explained what you needed to sign and where, and a photographer started snapping pictures almost as soon as you picked up the pen.

“Look alive, Galaxy Girl! C’mon, you’re making history here!” the photographer exclaimed.

“Don’t overthink it, GG. You more than earned this,” Soldier Boy said with a charming smile. He gave your knee a friendly pat before resting his hand on it, slowly bringing his hand up to your thigh and squeezing.

You managed to give him the most genuine smile you could muster up in return. He was right, after all. You had earned it that night, gave that final push to make yourself stand out, and you hadn’t hated it either. With a deep breath, you signed your life away to join Payback, just like you wanted.