#smalltown comics

[bylertruth3r]

c'mon now this so Smalltown Boy coded

it's a song about a gay man leaving his homophobic town to find a new life and Finn said that he wants Mike to leave Hawkins

the song is in Mike's playlist

[hypersis84]

I have revised one of my characters from my comic story “Peace Keepers”.. His name is “Matthew Frederick Hurwitz!” He’s one of the main characters too..

[luludeluluramblings]

Conner Kent's Obsession with Smalltown!Reader

A/N: I saw a few people liking the Superfam stuff and finally went nuts attempting this Conner bit. I tried. I tried so hard. I added dialogue. I'm used to the YJ Conner, but this is my attempt at Comic Conner. If he's OOC, oops. Yeet. (I attempted to research, I swear.) Might edit this some later.

A/N: I write Reader with an accent. One, cause that's how I talk. Two, cause I like it like 'dat.

A/N: I'm also almost done with Part Seven, but I'm adding dialogue to that too to make the breaking point a tad bit more impactful. I've never really written dialogue before.

Warnings: Slight Yandere themes. Romantic Yandere. (Very subtle.)

Conner’s run-ins with Reader always seemed to piss Tim off. Especially after Tim started researching into Reader. He would occasionally always beg Tim to invite Reader to hang out. And, he would find himself rejected every single time. Before it was probably due to Tim being dramatic. Now, he certain of this, it's because Tim dramatic and jealous overprotective.

On other occasions, he'd just by pass Tim, leaving him to his cases (and creeping) so hecould sneak and bother reader. They’re kinda cute, in his opinion. Of course they call him a big city boy and said he clearly lived off of his daddy’s money. Which was only kind of wrong. But, they way they said it made his a trail of heat crawl down his spine.

After some time had passed, he knew that Tim and the other members of the family were suspicious about him coming to the manor so much. He never tried to hide his reasons There was no point in hiding behind weak excuses. He respected the Bats too much to even think he could fool them. Plus, lying to the Bats was a good way to get stabbed with a kryptonite knife. Even though they had made it pretty clear that they disapproved of him coming around so often, He was still going to keep visiting. Could they really blame him? It wasn’t his fault he was enamored so easily. 

He kept his distance just a bit. Like he was silently (commanded) requested. He could tell he made the newest addition to the family a bit uncomfortable. And, he understood. The clone thing was kinda freaky after all.

Well, at first he had assumed it was because he was a clone. That would make any normal person feel a bit weird. But, then he heard them keep call him that nickname. City boy. The way it rolled off their tongue and how often it was said was clearly a sign. They weren’t bothered by the clone thing. They just didn’t like his personality. He could fix that. That wasn’t that hard. He was adaptable.

So when he approached them again, for the million time, he tried to play up the cool and collected act. Going as far as to emulate the Batman. Which, surprising made the ice break. When they laughed at him.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

"No, seriously why are you acting like that?" You're still giggling at how hard he was trying to play up the serious act. Cause that's all it was. You don't doubt he could genuinely be serious for a moment, but this wasn't one of those moments.

"I'm just letting you see a different side of me, is all." Conner replies, trying to keep it up even though he had been quickly caught.

"You mean the imaginary side, city boy? I didn't realize you liked to play pretend." Another teasing snort. God, how you needed that laugh.

"I'm not pretending."

"Yeah, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah."

"No."

"Yes, you are. Don't be lyin' to me now. Or, Imma start gettin' upset."

"Okay, okay... How could you tell?" He conceded after a moment. The way he scratched the back of his head suited him much more than that little Oscar performance he was putting on a few seconds prior.

"I'm observant." Comes the mock arrogant reply. It was hard to give him a cold shoulder when he just made you laugh so genuinely in the last few weeks.

"Oh, look who's playing pretend now." The snark on his tongue doesn't have any heat, but it does bring you some relief. A bit of much needed normalcy.

Maybe it's the fact that the loneliness has slowly crawled into your chest and burrowed it's self deep in that hollow part of you, but it's easy to let your guard down around him for once. You had noticed his efforts to get to know you before, and maybe you let those preconceived notions cloud your little head. But, there was no need for them anymore. The twinge of glee he sparked was enough to burn them away and make you pause before you would rebuild those walls of yours.

"Are you saying I'm not observant?"

"Yep."

"The audacity!" The outrage nothing more than a sham. A simple way to fill the air between them. Cause even if the talk was small, just the hint of it filled something in you. That didn't make your curiosity fade, however. "But, seriously, why are you impersonating Bruce? And in his own house, no less."

The brief silence that washes over you both has you already regretting this. Had it really so long since you've had a proper conversation that you were this out of practice?

When he finally speaks again, it is gives you relief and more regret.

"I just wanted to finally get your attention."

Well, doesn't that make you finally fit in with the rest of your family?

Your tongue brushes over your teeth in an attempt to get the lead coating that made your words weigh heavy in your mouth off of it.

"I'm sorry, Conner. I- I've been smallminded haven’t I?"

"No, I get it. The whole clone thing is freaky." He starts, a light flush on his cheeks. He wasn't expecting an apology, and especially one so soon and so heartfelt.

"Oh, yeah, that... Really it didn't have anything to do with it. I kinda just thought you were a typical concrete jungle flirt. Momma warned me about men like you." You try to hide your sheepishness by adding humor to your voice, praying he catches your sincerity under all the different layers.

He catches something, judging by the beaming smile Conner gives you.

"Really? I had hoped it wasn't, ya know, that."

"Nah, nah. It wasn't. Still, I am sorry." You assume silence is about to befall the pair of you again, but he doesn't let it happen.

"My family owns a farm out in Kansas, you know?" The cheeky grin on his face screams that he's going to be getting his revenge in the form of mild bullying.

"No!" The resounding smack of your palm hitting your forehead nearly echoes in the halls. "I feel even worse now."

"So much for being observant, little detective."

"I never claimed to be no detective. But, I might be more... oblivious then I initially implied..."

Now, it's Conner's turn to guffaw at you.

"The audacity."

"Don't you throw my words back at my. I can't handle it." You can't help by click your tongue. There's hardly any annoyance from your words. "I really misjudged you."

"It's fine! I figured you might still be adjusting to Gotham and the whole Wayne lifestyle. Tim mentioned you're from a pretty small town when I started bugging him about you." He's clearly playing up the charm, but you let it work on you.

"More like I'm still suffering from culture shock." Slowly, you can feel this conversation starting to shift to something deeper than surface level. Things that haven't been allowed into the open air start to ripple underneath.

And, he takes that chance to draw it out.

"Still?" Empathy mixing into his tone. Those icy blue eyes looking incredibly warm. You'd never really taken the time to look at him. Sure, you knew he was attractive. Hell, everyone that seemed to show up at the manor was attractive. But, now you were finally looking at him. Too focused were you in taking in his appearance for the first time, that you completely missed the way those eyes shined with opportunity and desperate want.

"Yeah, still. It's... different."

"Different as in the food's a little weird or different as in the people are a little weird?"

"It's all a little weird, and it's... kinda... lonely?" You can't help the wince. You really don't wanna trauma dump on someone who you had initially misjudged. He didn't deserve that.

But, as he moves closer you can't help it. That desolate part of you longing for comfort when you haven't had it in such a long time and the way he's giving you all this undivided attention when you can barely catch Alfred in the halls these days fills that acute craving in your gut.

"Lonely?" God, the concern in his voice doesn't make you want to cry, but it does make you want to choke

"I... I think it's not here that's different. I think it's me that's too different." The way he sucks a breath in after the words leave your mouth makes you want to backtrack immediately. "I'm so sorry. God damn, am I mess right now."

"No. No. No. You are fine." The reassuring words oddly sound more like a purr, but they capture your attention all the same. "I get it. I really really do."

Why does he have to give you such a disarming smile. He's practically beaming at you now. There's a festering tension blooming around them like spores.

"You are really not helping me fell less like a jerk to you now." The click of your tongue attempting to defuse the budding blooms.

"Hey, if you're feeling guilt... you could, maybe... let me take you out for dinner sometime? Just to make it up to me."

After a stunned moment of thought, you finally find the words to reply.

" Honestly, I'd-"

"CONNER!" Tim's sudden interruption sends the words crawling back down your throat.

"Tim." He calls back in a cool greeting, but he strangely doesn't step back from you. Which is nice. You haven't had anyone close to you other than Dick and a few of your remaining friends at Gotham Academy. And Damian, Cassandra, and Duke get a bit huffy, or in Damian's case murdery, when they are within an arms reach of you.

"Sorry, am I interrupting anything? Conner and I had plans for the day." Tim's pleasant voice sends a wave of unease over you. He's not staring at you when he speaks. Just Conner. It's annoying how he's ignoring you despite you being right. In. Front. Of. Him.

But, then he does finally look at you and his dark grey eyes soften ever so slightly. You're not too mad. Clearly he's exhausted, judging by the bruises under his eyes. There's still a slight reflection in them as he's gaze meets yours, despite how dry the appear. Probably from looking at a computer too much.

"You really shouldn't bother with this guy. He's not worth it." The words are clearly meant to be joking. Casual banter between two close friends. But, you can't help thinking they come off a bit strong.

Conner seems to bristle at them, but he does brush them off.

"That's right, we are hanging out today. Can you blame me for getting distracted, though?" That cocky smirk of his is back, and he actually touches your shoulder. It makes you feels warm, but like a prize at the same time.

All Tim seems to do in response is twitch, but giving nothing away. His grey eyes going steely as they drift to Conner's hand.

When the moment finally passes, Conner lets his hand fall. You can feel it grazing down your back as he pulls away. Slow, like he's trying to strike a match and light something inside you.

"I'll see you later, sweetheart. Just think about my offer and get back to me on it!" Conner calls out as Tim storms behind him. Both heading in the direction of the library.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

As soon as their in the Batcave, Conner can tell he probably pushed it too far. Not that he has any regrets. He finally got somewhere and confirmed all of his previous theories about Reader. They were so adorable apologizing to him, and so deliciously sweet about it too.

He should've realized Tim was watching them, though. Dude was a creep. He maybe his best friend, but he's still a damn creep.

As expected, the rest of the family is also giving him the patented Bat-glare when he sees them. But, as he stated, he has no regrets. He's not stupid enough to stick around, though. He saw Jason loading a suspicious looking green bullet into the chamber of his gun. And, while he knows Tim wouldn't kill him, he's not so sure about the rest of them.

He's confirmed what he's wanted, what he's already suspected. They're absolutely perfect for him and ripe and raw.

[retrovhsguy]

And here it is.

Part 1 of my comic Smalltown Boy :)

[edutainer2022]

Sending hugs and strength as always.

I’d love to know any thoughts you have about the Tracys as kids in the happy times. What do you think they got up to? Do you headcanon the farm / ranch / some other Kansas home? Or did Jeff and Lucy live somewhere more built up / accessible to NASA? What were the kids’ hobbies? What would a family day out have looked like?

Oh, @idontknowreallywhy, thank you for the ask! I actually tend to go hazy on the boys' childhood, because the way kids work is not my forte. In my heart of hearts, I see them as latchkey kids of nondescript rural/smalltown US. A meadow outside the backyard, long bus commutes to school. A kind of chaotic but tight and warm, fun, quirky world, reigned supreme by their mother. Think Gilmore Girls, but a single mother of three boys, initially. With Jeff space-cowboying it would be just her and the back to back eldest three for quite some time.

Also think The Sound of Music - she's the one with piano and art. And the horses. There were sing alongs and movie marathons, and board games, and junk snacks, and bake offs, and magic in that household. That's why I also think, much as Scott worships and seeks approval of a (always away) father, he was Mom's right hand and White Knight. Mom's champion and deputy in wrangling the younger brothers. There would, of course, be SHENANIGANS. Sometimes Mom Tracy would just discover zen of a boys mom and have a glass of red on hand.

Since we have Gran Roca, I also sometimes think Yellowstone. She's the one from old(er) Manifest Destiny ranching money. She knows how to get her hands dirty, but it's removed from Jeff's first generation off the farm experiences. She sees the help, but she's also used to having them around - hence the five kids without batting an eye, given Jeff's military/space career. That would quite organically convert into the boy's we know - humble, generous, approachable, but somewhat sheltered.

I also think that Jeff's soaring wealth, Mom's untimely demise and grief buried in work, would spell something like a Warton Academy. Maybe not a full on boarding school, but a posh prep school with Ivy League pipeline and uniform blazers with embroidered crests. At least for the elder three's high school stretch. That would also, probably, mean shifting base to a bigger city and a dramatic change of pace in the boys' routine.

The boys hobbies? Scott is obviously a Rescue Scout extraordinaire. He's never met a sport he wasn't good at. But I also think School Parliament, Speech and Debate, maybe ROTC (to fit a military stint with my understanding of the timeline). Scott is earmarked for leadership and high pressure operations early on. National Honors Society, hands down. Dad would never tolerate anything less than excellent and Scott intended to be EVERYTHING Dad was - including space track. Calculus may actually be his "nerdy guilty pleasure". I also absolutely don't see how Mom didn't teach him the piano first. It likely didn't go far, but he gets by at the keyboard.

Virgil is the music and arts kid, obviously. He probably followed Scott into many hobbies and clubs, originally, but his strengths and disposition are just so obviously different.

John loves school. The more school - the merrier. Coding, and astronomy, and physics. Languages on the side. Gifted program. The Big Bang Theory worthy combo of Supreme nerd-dom. I'd say music too - comes with the territory of good ear for languages. Sports by necessity - to keep up with the original Turbo Twosome, and to get space rated. He came to actually enjoy sports, on his own terms.

Come to think of it, the Elder Trio are a token comical display of the Prom King always flanked by two sidekicks, who embody the very definition of "geeky uncool". In hindsight, John is sometimes amazed that Scott actually ENJOYED hanging out with them and did so by choice. Still does so.

[n1ghteeea]

Allaboutrgb here, I’ve got Cabinet of Calamari in the mind so I might as well pick that for my ask subject.

Any thoughts on Egon carrying a hair pin around? Or why Ray might be able to pick a lock? (Unclear if he actually can or not.)

And not really a question but I wonder what the keys on Peter’s key ring go to, the firehouse I assume but what else. 🤔

Never wanna leave Winston out so we should marvel at how flexible he is, he had to really contort to escape those swords.

Ty for the ask!!

Egon carrying a hairpin is ridiculous, I remember my first thought was that his stupid hairstyle requires them to hold, but I think he might just have everything on him at all times, because he randomly has matches in some episode too. Maybe his motto is “you must always come prepared!!”

Picking locks seems to be a common ability for them, bc Peter does it in “You Can’t Take It With You,” Winston does it in some later season ep (and says his dad taught him) and guess Ray can do it too!! Maybe he learned it as a kid in school, I imagine smalltown boys don’t have much to do with their free time, so they try absolutely everything for fun.

And yeah, Peter’s keys are comical, the only thing I can come up with is that they are from different rooms of the Firehouse, though it doesn’t seem like they close them that often, if at all, so who knows! He’s a weird guy!! Maybe it’s all the same key and he has like 20 backups in case he loses it!!

And oh man, love that scene, Egon finds it hilarious but it’s actually very impressive!! Winston is so cool - both strong AND flexible, like what can’t you do??

[littleeyesofpallas]

I want a superhero character who's some white dude with orientalist mystic powers and a katana and shit but instead of being at all into it, he's like really uncomfortably self aware about looking like a stupid weeaboo and he's so embarrassed by it that he makes the effort not to actually use the katana or the powers if he can help it. Maybe make it a cursed artifact type deal where he touched it and it's soulbound to him specifically but it was just a wrong-place-wrong-time type coincidence, so he's very much aware of the fact that he has no idea what the thing's history or cultural significance is. Its corrupting influence tries to whisper dark sinister temptations into his mind, but it speaks Japanese so he doesn't understand anything it's saying.

He has a Japanese-Americam friend/sidekick but she's like, "Dude, I'm like 4th gen AsianAmerican. I was raised in smalltown Nebraska. I've never even been to Japan and I don't speak the language either. I dunno, maybe we could try asking my grandpa? But he probably doesn't know either." And then her grandpa is a jingoistic WWII vet who fought against Japan in the war.

And the two of them just have to kinda shrug at eachother and wing it as a bunch of cliche magic ninja --ala the League of Assassins or The Hand-- are constantly descending on their comic universe expy of, like, Omaha.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Friday, October 18th

XANDER: Arrr! Careful, me mateys! These be fireflies spat from a volcano off the coast of Katmandu. Arr! LITTLE BOY: You're not a real pirate! Real pirates live on boats and don't look stupid!

~~All the Way~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Unraveling by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, R)

[Chaptered Fiction]

In the Company of Witches and Slayers: Chapter 165 by VladimirHarkonnen (TheLightdancer) (Willow/Tara, E)

Book Stew! Chapter 13 by MGAllan (Michael [from Gingerbread]/Lance [from The Pack], G)

Kinktober 2024, Chapter 18 by HuonParticlesAreHarmless (Buffy/Giles, E)

Kinktober 2024, Chapter 15 by DancingAngel0013 (Buffy/Giles, E)

Painting Flowers, Chapter 2 by crowncitydreams (Buffy/Angel, T)

Birds of a Feather, Chapter 6 (complete!) by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Oh My Goddess, Chapter 8 by Maxine Eden (Buffy/Spike, R)

Me and the Devil Blues, Chapter 3 by Melme1325 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

In Your Dreams, Chapter 4 by Geliot99 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Giles meme cross stitch pattern by VioletWanes (worksafe)

Wallpaper: Beauty and the Beasts by revello-drive-1630 (Buffy/Angel, worksafe)

Fanvid: Buffy and Spike | Treacherous by iCraveEdits (0)

Fanvid: Buffy and Spike | Guilty as Sin [Buffy The Vampire Slayer] by iCraveEdits (0)

Fanvid: Buffy Summers || Nobody's home by Captain Swann (0)

Fanvid: Buffy the Vampire Slayer- Anyway You Want It by juliaroxs241 (0)

Fanvid: spike & buffy - exile by Giulia Wonderwall (0)

Fanvid: Buffy+Dawn+Joyce | Phantom [BTVS] by leticia (0)

Fanvid: Buffy The Vampire Slayer | Smalltown Boy by Delenadiarixs S (Buffy movie)

Fanvid: Tara MaClay- (Buffy the Vampire Slayer)- Machine Learning by Multifandom_Fanatic (0)

Vidlet: Buffy Summers | Teen Idle (short) by ImagineDragonlords (0)

Vidlet: Buffy, Willow Xander Edit for @fire.is.catching's edit comp! by swiftie.reputation13 (0)

Video: Buffy the Vampire Slayer 6x06 voiceover | Buffy "Costumes that take over your personality” by A Pixie's Whisper (0)

Audio: Meeting Buffy At Your New School (F4A) (Buffy The Vampire Slayer) (New Student Listener X Buffy) by Violet's Audios (0)

Video: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Spike you're the one Monologue) by Aria Eleutheria Aurora (0)

Music: Buffy The Vampire Slayer Theme --- Fingerstyle Guitar Cover + Free Tabs by Jacob Neufeld - The Little Strummer Boy (0)

AI Music: The Gentlemen are coming by. - reimagined by NeXuS JWF (0)

Video resource: Buffy and Oz scenepack by Scenepacks (0)

Video resource: Buffy and dawn scenepack by Scenepacks (0)

Demon design: From the Archives: Black Death Demon - Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 7 by Christopher Burdett (worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Weekly Watch-Along [October 10th-October 18th] by BPD-and-Lipstick

Video: DWR 426 Buffy The Vampire Slayer 1992 by The Dream Warrior Review Podcast

Video: Is the Buffy Movie 'Good Actually'? by Better With Bob?

Video: Thoughts On Buffy the Vampire Slayer TV Show by ramboraph4life

Video: Summary: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Season 1) by Romi Pegaro (in Spanish)

Video: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE Slayer, beyond myth, icon of strength and courage! by SerieTvRetro (in Italian)

Video: Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 4: Episode 9 - Something Blue by The Cheshire Kiwi

Video: The Killer in Me-Slayer Sunday by Jane Talks Buffy

Video: Buffy The Vampire Slayer Library Edition Season 8 Vol.4 Review/ Overview by Comic Swag

Video: RTFC #06 - Buffy The Vampire Slayer 7 (2007) DEEP DIVE [Features an exclusive interview with Georges Jeanty!] by Read the Freaking Comics!

Video: S4E09: Something Blue by One Girl in All the World

Podcast: Buffy The Vampire Slayer: Sarah Michelle Gellar, High school drama, and slaying by TV Pilot's License

Podcast: Episode 033 - Becoming (pt. 1) by Boys Watching Buffy (several other episodes were uploaded as well)

[Rec Search]

Does anyone have any good femslash BtVS fic recs? by acaseofthewiggins

[Fandom Discussions]

Spike sleeping on a stone slab in his coat, boots, and lil blankie by Aphony Cree

For people who think Xander deserves some sort of punishment for him going after Buffy in the Pack by confusedguytoo

The thing about vampires is they are immortal so of course they will outlive all their mortal friends by stellernorth

Does anyone else find it so weird how Dawn is treated like a little kid when she is 15, 16 years old? by suiriswhite

I can’t BELIEVE I never noticed that Spike only started calling Buffy “Buffy” to her face AFTER he realized he was in love with her by thequeenofsastiel

I was counting the names Spike called Buffy and the amount of times he used them in s6 because I was curious, and I noticed something interesting by thequeenofsastiel

The cars Angel keeps giving Spike by thequeenofsastiel

Angel is such a weird show to watch by jimbodyson

after buffy season 3, contrary to popular belief, angel becomes more morally grey and fucked up by after buffy season 3, contrary to popular belief, angel becomes more morally grey and fucked up

Basically i want the way Buffy is sweet to Spike in season 7 to transfer to season 4 starved and tortured Spike by skyegraves21

Scoobtober: Best Weapon in the Buffyverse? by Plasma

The impact of loss and trauma on Angel's outlook continued by Lostsoul666 and Stoney

Double Entendres by Technical_Juice_6959

The Shanshu prophecy by moses616

Best Acting Performance in Angel by Troyaferd

How was the dagger of the beast made? by Nikstar112

Do they ruin willow’s arc? by Ijustliketodraww

Angel Season 5 Poster by authenticriver

I love Anya by ClutchPencilQuadRule

Did Giles just become sexier post-Season 3? by Personal_Reward_60

Was there a moment in the show where you thought to yourself ‘I did not expect this?’ by DarkCryptt

If you had the money or the power by Vixen22213

Rewatching Hells Bells… by erulisseh

Help with this Angel art by midwest_manic

Missed opportunities by CoasterTrax

Prom by moses616

Someone finally does what we were all thinking 😆 (S3 E1) by ghostrider1938

Real time Buffy/Spike Reactions by Adventurous_Grand878

What are some interesting motifs, references, or metaphors you've found in the show that not a lot of fans catch? by Deep_Ad_2691

Buffy is BRUTAL with killing people off it makes it more realistic in a sense by hatchbackkk

this was PAINFUL [Buffy cutting her hair in Gone] by hatchbackkk

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[watchoutforthefanfics]

a carving on some wood || Reddie (It)

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: a request by @aubriereddie

Summary: "can u do one where eddie catches richie carving r+e into the kissing bridge"

TWs: internalized homophobia (like seriously Richie hates himself), self hatred, explicit language (it's reddie), angst, vague ending, and some injuries (Richie accidentally cuts himself).

[[A/N: As someone from a smalltown who is distinctly not straight, this one hit so... Thanks for the request. Enjoy :)))]]

Richie Tozier had been hyping himself up for this for three days. Okay, maybe a week. Maybe two weeks-

A few months, okay? He's not fucking proud.

He wouldn't have been doing it in the first place, honestly, if they hadn't fucking fought a demon clown. If Eddie hadn't broken his arm, and their lives (as fucking kids) were on the line. What the fuck by the way. He was faced with death at 12 years old, he almost died at 12 years old-

(He was rivaling on 13 now, actually, his birthday was sooner, rather than later.)

And maybe that's why he was doing this.

Why he'd told his parents he was going to a friend's house (they never asked who, Richie wasn't sure they cared), and decidedly was not. Making a turn off the residential street, and riding his bike somewhere he'd only been a few times. He'd mostly stared at the carvings, and hesitated when he was, maybe building up to now.

Richie could admit, to himself at least, that he'd been ready to do this since he could recognize what he felt. Since he'd read through comics and started understanding the couples, and maybe getting a little invested. And maybe starting to realize just what he was feeling, what he had always kinda felt (if you could feel those things when you were so young, Richie wasn't sure you could). But now Richie was in middle school, and people were dating and kissing and in couples that actually meant something (or so he believed)-

And Richie was faced with the fucking reality of what he was. What he felt.

Maybe that added to it, but he knew since that summer (and almost fucking dying), that he was going to end up here. Because Richie could die with this and it would be lost with him. And, for some reason, he didn't want that. At all.

He wanted there to be evidence. Because one day, he wouldn't be there to just do it. Feel it.

So, here he was, parking his bike with a knife in his pocket and an idea in his head.

He was doing it in the hours that the high school was still in class, maybe primarily so no one could see him. And he'd told every other person in the Loser's Club that he was grounded for today, and couldn't do shit.

Even still, he walked backwards to the bridge. Eyes flicking around the area (maybe for a clown too), because he was sure if anyone fucking found him that he was dead. And despite how much he fucking hated himself (for feeling this way, being different), he really didn't want to die.

After tripping over rocks and falling on his ass multiple times (he was pretty sure it was going to bruise actually), his back bumped into something solid. Wooden, maybe. Richie wasn't sure how he could exactly tell.

He spun around and found himself on the bridge. After shooting a quick look around (on both sides), Richie found himself completely alone. So, he let himself crouch down and eye some of the carvings. He could, if he was honest, recognize some of the names. Some of them older kids he knew vaguely, and others he knew more personally. Well, he guesses he can't really assume that these carvings were them, but-

Fucking focus, Richie told himself.

The longer he was out here, the more dangerous it would be. So, he needed to just fucking get it done.

His eyes flicked behind his glasses, brushing over the wood. They immediately latched onto a bigger spot at the top, wide open. He was kinda surprised it hadn't been filled actually. This shit was practically ancient, why was it open?

Richie shook off the thought, making one more glance around (he was still very alone). The whistle of the wind through the tree leaves was either creepy or calming, he couldn't fucking tell. And then, he got down on his knees. (He figured he'd need to be a little sturdy operating a fucking knife of all things.)

It kind of hurt actually, with the old fucking chipped wood pushed into his skin. He'd gotten much worse though, so he ignored it.

Taking a deep breath in, he pulled out the knife and raised his hand.

Now normally, there would be a lot of questions. How big should it be? What exactly did he want to carve (Eddie, Spaghetti, Eds, E.K)? But, like he said before, Richie Tozier had been thinking about this for a long time.

His feelings felt big (for lack of a better word, Richie wasn't fucking good with words), so it was gonna be big. He wanted to be vague (to avoid any suspicion), and he, selfishly, wanted to be a part of it. Maybe because that might be the only way he ever gets to be together with Eddie, like that anyway. That being said, he wasn't going to carve it deep. He wanted it to be there, but he didn't want you to see it at first glance. It was a secret that Richie was sure he'd die with, it needed to still be kinda hidden. Even though he wanted it to outlive him.

It should be noted that Richie had been practicing. He'd taken big sticks and "carved them into a wizard's scepter"; not a single Loser batted an eye. He wanted it to be pretty clean, straight lines and shit (how Eddie would want it if he was honest with himself). So, he practiced.

Pressing into the wood felt natural, as he just started carving -he was always the kind to just do. The straight lines were easy, the curve of the R, though, was definitely the hardest (it took so much of his attention). Not to mention he was trying so hard to be perfect, trying to make it something that would fucking last.

Maybe that was why he didn't hear the other bike or the footsteps creaking along the wood all the way to just behind him.

It was right as he was finishing the last line that it happened.

"Whose E?"

Richie startled so fucking hard (shooting up to his feet) that he dropped the knife (which somehow had fucking cut his hand on the way down). He knew that fucking voice like the back of his hand. He felt a little like his heart might burst, or maybe he'd throw up right then and there.

He hadn't even noticed he was bleeding, not until-

"Fuck, you're bleeding," Eddie fucking Kaspbrak rushed over to him with his stupid fucking fanny pack, "-You're such a fucking idiot, you know that? You're too clumsy to use a fucking knife-"

Richie couldn't say anything. Not as Eddie pulled out antibacterial from his fanny pack, not as he sprayed it (which fucking burned), not as he cleaned up the blood with a cotton ball, and not even as he chewed him out the whole fucking time. All he could do was stare, and hope to whatever god was above that Eddie would forget what he saw.

"-When even was the last time you cleaned it?"

Eddie was looking at him now, expecting an answer. And Richie just swept his eyes across Eddie. His hair was getting longer now, and his freckles from the summer sun were fading (Richie still had them memorized through). He looked a little older than that summer, even though he'd just recently turned twelve (Eddie was quite a few months younger than him).

All Richie could do was shrug.

Eddie's big-ass brown eyes watched him for a moment, analyzing, before he said, "You're so fucking stupid."

And then, he moved back to the wound.

If Richie's heart wasn't busting out of his chest because of what he was just caught doing, it would've been racing anyway. Eddie was basically holding his hand at this point, all soft fingertips, and leftover tan skin from the summer (it was fading). He felt like he might fucking explode from a few things, honestly.

Richie physically couldn't say shit (anxiety clawing up his throat), but luckily, Eddie was filling the silence chewing him out. It didn't look suspicious... yet. He was trying to ready himself to speak, even though he had no clue what to fucking say.

Why him? Out of all the people to catch me, why him? That's so-

"There," Eddie carefully put a bandaid over it (it really wasn't that big of a deal, like at all), "-If you get an infection and die, that's not my fucking fault."

Richie swallowed, blinking once. His skin was itching so bad that he felt like clawing it off. He can't know, I can't lose him-

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Eddie asked, frustrated (but he could tell he was actually concerned), "-Are you scared of blood or some shit? Because I fucking cleaned it up-"

"Like what?" Richie said -blankly.

"Like..." Eddie pursed his lips, motioning his hands quickly (like he always did), "-that, dickweed."

"Hate to break it to ya," Richie tried to joke, but it wasn't all there (please don't notice it), "-but that's not making anything fucking clearer, Eds."

"That's not my name, asshole," he chimed, instinctively, "-and well, I can't fucking describe it if I don't know what it is, can I, dipshit?"

Richie deflected, "How did you find me?"

Eddie paused for a second, eyes flicking along his face (like he was looking for something, Richie had no idea what), "Ma actually let me go out today, she thinks I'm at the fucking library but how the fuck would she know anyway? I went to your fucking house, to see if I could hang out there, and then your Mom told me you weren't home, which means you fucking lied by the way-"

Richie processed the fact that Eddie had wanted to hang out with him on his free day for a second.

"-for whatever fucking stupid reason you decided. She said you were at a friend's, so I guessed it was Stan's because it's always Stan's-"

Richie was barely following at this point, just watching Eddie being emotive. He got lost in it sometimes-

"-and then, you weren't fucking there either. So I went fucking riding around Derry looking for you, you asshole. And when I was doing a fucking round, I saw your bike. Which you parked really fucking far away-"

Richie felt a little like running away.

"-So, I parked my bike where yours was, and saw your shitty shirt from a mile away because it's fucking hideously bright-"

Richie was frozen solid.

"-And now, I'm here," Eddie finished with a breath. His face was a little red from all the talking, Richie barely noticed it though.

They stood there in silence for a second too long. He knew that because Eddie started shifting from one foot to the other like he did when he was getting impatient.

"Why are you here anyway?" Eddie followed up, deciding to fill the silence himself, "-And why did you fucking lie about it?"

Richie gnawed at his lip, squeezing his hands into fists and then opening them, over and over again.

"Do you have like a-" Eddie pursed his lips together, awkwardly, "-secret crush on Bev or something? Is that why you didn't tell anybody-"

His mouth moved before he could stop it, "Bev's name doesn't start with an E, Eds."

He almost physically flinched at saying that shit, and then saying his name (which did in fact start with an E) so close together. If Eddie thought about it for too long, it was so fucking easy.

"Then... Then-" Eddie puffed out, maybe a little like he was being left out, "-why is it such a big fucking deal? You talk about girls all the time. Are you like... Is this fucking bigger than normal? Are you in love or some shit-"

"No," Richie near instantly responded, "-we just... uh, I just kissed her."

Eddie didn't believe him at all, he could tell (just stick to your fucking guns) and there was something in his face that he couldn't name.

"So," he repeated, something in his tone (it was driving Richie fucking crazy), "-whose E?"

Richie was fucking scrambling, his mind was completely blank. His stomach was twisted in knots that felt so tight, that he might not be able to breathe-

"Elena from first period," Richie said, just letting his mouth move (it was all he could do).

Eddie paused for a second, before countering -aggressively, "I'm in your fucking first period, dipshit, it's an A. A-lana."

Richie knew that.

Richie tried to be convincing, looking back to the carving (he should've made it fucking smaller), "Shit, really? Too late now, I guess."

Eddie just stared at him, big brown eyes. It made Richie actually want to throw up. It was like he saw him, was just staring like he was peeling back the layers of his skin -straight to his heart. You don't know. You can't know. Please, don't figure it out-

"Richie," Eddie's voice was different now, serious, "-why the fuck are you lying to me? Aren't we like... best friends or is that not-"

"We are," Richie interrupted, genuine, "-Of course we are, Eds."

"Then," Eddie echoed, "-Then, what the fuck, Richie? Whose E?"

Richie felt broken open, honestly debating jumping off the bridge and into the water. Maybe he'd hit his head so hard that he'd knock himself out, and get out of this conversation. Which was fucked up. But he physically couldn't say it. Even though, there was a part of him (deep, deep inside) that wanted to so fucking bad it burned. That he might be fucking free. He might hate him, but he'd get it over with. He'd be fucking free. But if Eddie hated him...

"I can't tell you," he decided on -pathetically.

God, it was so fucking obvious. This shit felt like torture-

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Richie threw his hands up, cradling his face, "Can we please just fucking drop it, Eddie? I don't wanna talk about it-"

"I can't just drop it, dickhead," Eddie hissed back -something twisting in his face, "-You lied to all of us to fucking carve something in the kissing bridge. Why the fuck would you do that?"

"Eds, seriously-"

"No," he motioned with his hands, stomping somewhat closer to him (Richie almost physically took a step back, "-no, Richie. I'm confused as shit right now. Is there something wrong? Is it that stupid fucking clown ag-"

"No," Richie leveled, seriously.

"Then, what?" Eddie asked, closer (in his face now), "-What is so fucking bad about a carving on the kissing bridge? That you won't even tell your fucking friends about it-"

Richie was fidgeting with his hair now, constantly running his fingers through it, "Eddie, I can't-"

"What do you mean you can't?" Eddie kept pushing, "-Does she fucking not want to be seen with you or some shit?"

"Please, drop it-" Richie felt like crying.

Eddie frowned, and it was softer (even though he physically shoved him), "You're scaring the shit out of me, asshole. Seriously, this is so fucking unlike you. I don't... I don't get it-"

It fucking burst out of his chest, not exactly what needed to be said, but something very close.

"Eddie, it's not a fucking girl!"

Richie's face was in his hands, and his breaths were crashing out of his lungs so heavy -he might've been crying. He was frozen solid, and he physically couldn't move or look up. He couldn't look Eddie in the eyes. He might never be able to for the rest of his life. If he ever fucking sees him again-

His big ass mouth wins again.

Eddie was quieter then, careful, "What do you mean?"

"God," Richie threw his head up, and he was definitely crying, "-What the fuck do you think I mean, Eddie?"

He couldn't clearly see Eddie, but he could tell he looked a lot less angry. He was frowning, but in the nicer way, but there was still that thing that Richie couldn't identify. Do you hate me, Eds?

"I'm fucking sick in the head," Richie continued, and he was pacing now, "-I don't... I'm fucked up. I lied to everyone in my life. I've never even kissed a girl because I don't fucking want to-"

Eddie was just staring at him.

"And that's... And that's-" Richie let out a breath, "-that's not normal. I'm not... fucking normal."

There was a pause there, big breaths crashing through his chest. He tried to gather himself, like his life wasn't falling apart right there on the shitty ass bridge. Like he wasn't fucking broken open, like a porcelain doll. Like his best friend wasn't going to leave him in the dust because he's-

"You were never fucking normal, Richie."

Richie looked up, and Eddie didn't seem angry but he was scared to fucking death.

"Eddie, can you just leave me alone?" Richie billowed out, pushing his glasses up on his head so he could wipe at his eyes, and turned away from him (holding his arms and hunched over slightly), "-Like I know you fucking want to."

"How do you know what I want, dipshit?" Eddie piped up, "-Are you in my head?"

"Eds, seriously," Richie echoed, a little desperate, "-can you just go? I'm not... I need to be alone."

"Fuck that, you're my best friend, and-" Eddie replied, stubbornly, "-I'm not leaving you alone. You're gonna do something stupid, I just fucking know it."

Just leave me alone, please. It doesn't fucking matter anyway, I'm fucking broken. I'm not... right. Eddie, just leave me alone.

Richie sunk to the ground, pulling his knees up and hiding his face into them. He distantly felt the scabs littered along his skin, it was almost sort of grounding. It made him forget where he was, what he was saying, what he had said-

"Rich," Eddie spoke, hesitantly, "-is it me?"

He didn't say a word, he didn't even move. All that happened was his breath hitched in his chest. This day couldn't get any fucking worse-

"Am I E?" He continued, quietly (tone still drenched in that thing Richie couldn't identify).

Richie didn't respond, he couldn't. He'd already said too much. It was time for him to shut the fuck up, nothing he could say here would help-

"C'mon, Richie," Eddie persisted, "-just fucking answer me."

Richie just squeezed his knees tighter into his face, wordless. (For once in his life.)

"I'm actually asking you to talk for once," Eddie spoke, "-and you won't fucking do it."

"Eddie, I can't do this right now."

"Stop deflecting, asshole," Eddie just kept going (stop, stop, stop), "-just fucking tell me. Is it me?"

"Just stop, Eddie," Richie practically pleaded.

"I just wanna know, Richie," Eddie insisted, "-It's not fucking fair for you to not tell me."

Richie bit back, "I think I've fucking told you enough."

Eddie fell silent, maybe not expecting it.

"Do you think I wanted to tell you any of this?" Richie echoed out, head still shoved away, "-T-To tell anyone? I was just going to fucking die with it, alone. Because I'm not supposed to-"

Richie swallowed, cutting himself off.

"-I just... I'm not telling you anymore. I don't want to."

His breaths racked through his chest -loud and heavy. He was just trying to stop his heart from beating so fast, and trying to calm down. God, he never fucking wanted this.

"Who gives a fuck about what we're supposed to do?" Eddie countered.

Richie didn't move.

"Were we fucking supposed to-" Eddie's voice was getting louder (he was stepping closer), "-kill a fucking demon clown last summer?"

He just dug his face further into his legs, holding himself tighter. Ignore it. Ignore him.

"I'm supposed to take my pills Ma gives me," he proposed, even closer, "-but I fucking don't, do I?"

Ignore, ignore, ignore-

"Mike's supposed to kill stuff on the farm," he listed off, "-Bev's supposed to listen to her shitty ass Dad-"

"Eddie, stop," Richie nearly begged, something biting in his tone, "-None of that is the fucking same."

"How?" Eddie asked -pointedly, and he was right beside him now, "-How is that not the fucking same?"

"Because I'm," Richie sighed out, still not looking up, "-I'm fucking broken, Eds. I'm fucked up. Everyone else, they're allowed to do that shit, it's their own choice. I-"

His voice cut off (I can't control it. I can't fucking choose, if I could, I would be normal).

And even with the thought, he wasn't sure if he would. It was fucking Eddie. He didn't want to... He somehow, despite it being wrong, didn't want to lose what he felt for Eddie. Maybe that's why he carved it, because there was some part of him that was proud. Buried far, far away he thought Eddie was worth the whole fucking world, even if it meant that he was different. Broken.

He could hear Eddie sit down in front of him, the creak of the wood and he felt his body heat thrum against his legs. Richie didn't move an inch.

"Richie, we killed a fucking clown monster," Eddie leveled, "-we're all fucked up from that."

Richie stayed silent.

"Not liking girls is the least of your worries, dipshit," Eddie retorted, maybe trying to joke around like usual, "-your brain barely fucking functions as is."

Richie couldn't help the little laugh that slipped out. He heard Eddie laugh a little too, and it made something in him feel a little lighter -despite everything being so fucking heavy. Eddie always made it so much easier. Which was why it's so fucked that Richie felt this way. Eddie Kaspbrak meant a shit ton to him, and he fucking wasted it on... on feelings. He could fucking leave because Richie was-

"My Ma is... is wrong about all the sickness stuff, so-" Eddie echoed out, "-so maybe the whole world is wrong about... about you. That it's... That you're sick."

Richie felt his eyes burn, and felt a sob claw up his throat. Fucking Eddie. It's always fucking Eddie-

"It it... If it helps," Eddie started hesitantly, uncertain, "-I don't think you're sick. For that, anyway. Fucking everything else, I can't say shit on-"

Richie laughed again, harder this time -shaking his head against his legs, "You're such a dick, Eds."

"Well, you fucking laugh at it," Eddie shoved at him (and Richie could tell he was smiling), "-so what's that say about you, asshole?"

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Richie felt a little better. He'd told someone, and they hadn't run away. Eddie hadn't run away. Despite everything-

"Is it me?" Eddie ducked his head slightly, to maybe try and catch his eye, "-Richie, did you carve that for me?"

Richie clammed up, just as quickly as he'd relaxed. His breaths heavy in his chest, "You'll hate me. Eds, I can't handle you hating me-"

"I'm not gonna fucking hate you, dickweed," Eddie assured, cutting off his spiral, "-if I was gonna do that, I would've done it a long fucking time ago. Maybe that time you spit in my fucking shoes."

Richie laughed a little again.

"It's not funny, moron," Eddie bit back, "-I had to borrow fucking Bill's too big ones until I could save up enough allowance for new ones. Do you know how much it hurts to wear shoes that are too big for you? I fucking fell on my face like every other step-"

"Yeah," Richie laughed (fully, this time), remembering, "-I remember you fell down the stairs like a fucking cartoon character-"

"I almost broke my ankle, dick."

"You did fucking not," Richie defended, looking up now (Eddie was smiling at him), "-it was like three fucking steps. You literally just scraped your knees. I do that every fucking day-"

"Yeah," Eddie replied, "-and look where that got you, jackass."

"Jeez, Eds, fucking kick a guy when he's down," Richie responded -playfully, "-What did I ever do to you?"

Eddie raised his eyebrows, flattening his mouth into a line (Richie could see him physically try not to smile) "Are you really fucking asking me that?"

"Nah," Richie moved a hand to pat his head, "-I'm sure you've got a whole fucking log on me in that lil' head of yours. And who am I to disagree?"

Richie eventually unwound himself, tension slipping off his shoulders. Eddie was good at doing that for him. And apparently he didn't fucking hate him, somehow. He didn't even think that it made him sick. And Eddie thought that everything made everyone sick.

It was a few minutes later, and they were both laying against the bridge, looking up at the sky. It was a kinda summery day, despite it being fall, and the sky was a perfect kind of blue. Clouds in shapes that they called out (Richie kept saying different dicks, yeah, but still).

"Eds?"

There wasn't a second of silence, and he felt Eddie turn to look at him, "Yeah?"

He breathed it out, open and into the air, "It is you."

There was a silence for a second, and somehow Richie didn't quite mind it. He waited patiently, not even sure if he should be expecting an answer. And before he could think about it too hard, he felt Eddie's hand wiggle into his (the ones with the scar). It wasn't the first time, honestly, but it felt a little different then.

"Yeah," Eddie responded, smiling and looking back up at the sky, "-I know."

Richie snapped his head to him, "Fucking wow, you just Han Solo'ed me, and you call me the asshole?"

"That's because you are," Eddie fired back, laughing, "-you've done way worse shit."

But he was still holding his hand, and Richie didn't think he'd let go. Maybe he'd hold it as long as he could, Richie sure as fuck wasn't letting go.

With the perfect blue sky, his best friend, and a carving on some wood, Richie Tozier thought it might all be okay.

[alynwrench]

What even is Mistakes of Past Present and Future?

Glad you asked! Here's some info! MPPF Is a FNAF:SB WIP FanComic drawn and written by me, and cowritten by my girlfriend Allyssa. What started as a self insert AU is now being fleshed out with OCs and HUGE lore.

The main story is focused around Bevel Macshire (they/them) and Christi Norbrook (she/her), two childhood best friends from Middle School who just left their smalltown and moved in together! Needing a job they both find themselves at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex.

There's several characters- canon and made up- and even SEMI canon like Dave, Elsa, Jenkins, and Dennis- they run into, befriend, hate, and love. This comic will have romantic, horror, comedy, and action elements all into one fun little passion project gift basket!

We started working on this a year ago but due to personal life distractions we set it down- The story has changed a lot and will continue to change, especially due to game drops like Help Wanted 2 which caused us to revise some. (early self insert art)

MPPF is 2 years prior to FNAF:SB and RUIN. As the comic progresses things will change rapidly at the pizzaplex, for better or for worse This story will not be 100% lore accurate and sometimes OOC for certain characters, but we're having fun and that's what matters! (early art)

Anyways thank you guys for reading! If you have any questions PLEASE feel free to send in some asks or comment! Yall have a good day <3

[soupfic]

And in darkness please tread lightly (see what you discover)

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/F

Fandoms: Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)

Relationship: Betty Cooper/Veronica Lodge

Characters: Betty Cooper, Veronica Lodge

Additional Tags: Friends to Lovers, Past Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Past Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, First Kiss, Vaginal Fingering, Dildos, Pegging, Vaginal Sex, College, Future Fic, 1950s, Alternate Universe - 1950s

Summary: They emerged from the neighborhood and back onto campus. The Chi Omega sorority house was not much farther away then. Veronica looked both ways and began to cross the road when it was clear. It was nearly 11:30pm. “Girls sneak their boyfriends in all the time,” Veronica said, waving it away with her right hand. “Everyone just politely ignores any panting or moaning late at night.” Why did Betty’s stomach roll at that? “Okay.” Her voice was so small, it barely floated on the wind to Veronica’s back.

Read on Ao3

Betty’s eyes were starting to blur over the textbook she was reading in the library. The air conditioning was blasting cold, and the only sounds in the whole hall were the occasional rustling of paper and pencils scribbling notes. She tried shaking her head to wake herself up, but it just wasn’t working.

Time to call it a night , she thought, abruptly shutting the book and shoving it into her bag.

Before she took off, she paused a moment to smooth out her blue cardigan and tweed skirt. Now that she was standing up, her stomach rumbled, and she figured she could stop by the dining hall; tipping her watch carefully in the lowlight of the library, she noted that she had 23 minutes until it closed if she hurried.

Her brogues made soft sounds on the pavement as she half walked half skipped toward the dining hall closest to her dormitory.  The food options were slim pickings at this time of night, most dishes already cleared away and the staff trying to sweep up the hall. She felt bad about showing up so close to closing, but she realized she hadn’t eaten since lunch at noon and now it was nearly 10 pm.

Quickly, she grabbed a ham and cheese sandwich, paid, and scampered to her dorm.

The RA working the front desk stopped her.

“Betty!” The brunette girl said brightly, looking up from the book she was reading.

Betty was a little out of breath from her heavy bag and how much of a rush she was in to get home. Her face was ruddy and blonde flyaways were sticking to her cheeks.

“Hey, Rachel,” Betty smiled the smile living in Smalltown America had taught her to.

“Ronnie called and left a message for you.”

Betty nodded and sauntered over to the reception desk to retrieve the message.

“What’s it say?” Betty asked, holding a hand out for the scrap of paper Rachel was holding out for her.

“She wants you to meet her at the fountain, whatever that means, at 10.”

Obviously, there were many fountains around campus. But there was one fountain that was their fountain.

Betty glanced at her watch. It was ten til. She muttered a curse under her breath before thanking Rachel and sprinting up the linoleum front steps two at a time to get to her third floor room. The light was off inside so her roommate must have been asleep. She slowly turned her key in the lock to make the smallest amount of noise she possibly could so as not to wake Nicole.

Her roommate shifted and sighed as the door clicked softly behind her. All she really needed to do was drop her heavy school bag before turning right back around to meet Veronica. Well , she thought, I can afford to ditch my stockings for now .

After cautiously setting her bag down by the end of her bed, she took one last glance at her roommate to make sure the girl was asleep before turning her back to the other girl’s bed and peeling herself out of the stockings, ones she’d worn to church many times. She deposited the damp nylons on the ground next to her bed for later, and then spun around the room slowly to see if there was anything she was forgetting before meeting Ronnie. They’d known each other forever, but she still didn’t want to be late—she hated disappointing her.

Standing barefoot in the dark, her mind was blank, so she decided to just grab a coat so she could slip her room key inside while she was out, and put on more comfortable moccasins instead of the stiff brogues.

It didn’t matter how fast Betty ran; she was going to be a bit late. She imagined Veronica leaving after a few minutes of Betty running late and some unnamed feeling clawed at her gut.

The fountain was one of the centerpieces of campus—it had lights inside that were on constantly, making it visible at any hour of day, and there was a tradition of students making their friends jump in the fountain on their 21st birthday. It was mid-September so the semester had just started, but the chill was already starting to set in. While there were some students traveling to and fro’, no one was drunkenly bathing in the fountain that night.

Veronica, blessedly, still sat on the concrete ledge, haloed in the blue light from the water, and cloaked in a smart black peacoat. She looks beautiful, Betty thought involuntarily when she caught sight of the dark haired girl.

At the sight of Betty, Veronica perked up and waved.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Veronica admitted.

“I lost track of time studying in the library and didn’t get back to the dorm until ten til,” Betty said by way of explanation. “I rushed over as fast as I could.”

Betty saw Veronica’s eyes take in Betty’s visage, her sweat-sticky face and loose blonde hair, her cream colored overcoat. It was a tad too heavy for the weather, but there were occasional cold breezes that cut through the night and made Betty glad she was wearing it.

Veronica pouted just a little, but didn’t say anything to indicate displeasure. “I’m just glad you made it.” She held her arms out for a hug.

Betty gladly leaned down into her friend's arms, the scent of Veronica’s lingeringly sweet perfume when her face nestled into the crook of the other girl’s neck. She didn’t know what the scent was called, but it was Veronica’s go-to so Betty’s stomach started to curl every time she smelled it on her now.

The hug lingered, perhaps just a few beats too long. Betty pulled away, hoping the dark of the night around them would obscure her pink cheeks.

They’d been doing this song and dance for a few weeks now, since the semester started. They couldn’t see each other every day because Ronnie was trying to pledge a sorority and their classes didn’t line up. Betty felt her best friend’s absence keenly, like a missing limb. She missed her other friends, sure, but there was something so tantalizing about being in the same city, on the same campus, just a few blocks away and being barred from each other’s presence through sheer circumstance. And the more nights she lay awake in her dorm room with her roommates soft snores filtering through the air and Archie Andrews not in the house directly across from her, it started to occur to her that some of those friendships might have had more to do with proximity than genuine affection.

“Shall we go for a walk, then?” Veronica said, her bright red lips smacking together.

Betty nodded and Veronica stood from the fountain, looping an arm through Betty’s and tugging her in the direction of her dorm. Betty’s stomach clenched.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere interesting I found the other day,” Veronica said with an appealingly mischievous quirk to her mouth. “It should be a short walk.”

Betty was grateful she’d taken off her nylons and picked different shoes. A chill wind picked up as they descended the steep hill. She shivered and huddled in closer to Veronica, expecting the other girl to take a right onto sorority row, but instead she made a left, head swiveling in both directions, dark hair hitting her face, before crossing the street without the walk signal. Betty scurried after her, making sure to check both ways too.

They quickly descended into the neighboring residential area with great, towering homes with pointy roofs and too many windows scattered across the front in even rows. Their facades were all whites and yellows with horizontal wood slats and brick with tight rectangular chimneys. She was put in the mind of the Nathaniel Hawthorne novel she had to read in high school and the cursed Pyncheon family shut up inside. Any one of these dark houses could contain their own family curse. She thought of Hepzibah and superimposed her mother’s face on the character. Shaking her head to drop the thought, she nearly lost Veronica when the other girl darted in between two houses.

“Veronica!” Betty called lowly, conscious of the families likely sleeping in the houses around them.

In the half dark, she saw Veronica ahead of her.

“Are we in someone’s yard?”

“No!” Veronica called back before stopping.

When Betty caught up, she saw a small clearing with bright white stones sticking up like jagged teeth from the dark earth below.

“Cemetery?” Betty questioned.

“A colonial cemetery. There’s a sign by the street. I saw it when I was out here walking after dinner a few evenings ago while you were in class.”

“That’s so cool,” Betty marveled, moving deeper among the stones.

There was enough ambient light from the nearby street lamps that she could make out some names and symbols. Most of the names seemed to be from the same family.

“I did some research.”

“You did?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, Cooper!”

Betty chuckled sheepishly.

“Anyway, turns out New England is littered with these small, colonial family plots. I love the little symbols on the stones. Like this one,” she gestured to one of the nearby markers.

There was a skull with wings on either side carved into the top of the stone above the name, Elizabeth Marsh who died in 1802 at age 31. So young , Betty thought with a melancholy gripping her heart.

She bent down next to another stone with a lamb carved into it, angling so the streetlight would catch it enough to read the name on it, Charlotte Marsh, age 3 hours. The picture painted was clear.

As she went to stand up, she felt something against her back. She spun and jumped away, putting as much distance as possible between her and the ghost besieging her.

Veronica started laughing at how much she had scared Betty. Betty’s hand came up to her chest, feeling her heart fluttering beneath her rib cage.

“Ronnie!”

“I’m sorry!” Veronica snickered, a hand coming up to sheepishly hide her mouth. “I was just trying to be funny.”

“I guess the graveyard spooked me a little,” Betty admitted.

“Clearly.” Veronica’s laughter finally died down. “You want to head back toward campus?”

“Yes, please.”

Veronica looped her arm through Betty’s again, pulling them toward the street.

After a few minutes of silence, Veronica spoke, her voice soft and tender.

“Will you skip class tomorrow?”

Betty’s stomach clenched. “All day?”

“It’s just a couple classes, Bett. I just really want to spend some time with you.”

Their first semester of college had just started—and Betty never even considered skipping a class. In high school, she had near-perfect attendance, only missing a few days the one time she had mono.

“But my journalism class…” Betty started to protest, but she trailed off when Veronica stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk.

The other girl’s face took on a wounded, little lamb quality. Were those tears brimming in her eyes?

“Okay! Fine, fine,” Betty conceded, laughing.

“Yay!” Veronica started them walking again. “Well, then you don’t need to go to bed early. Come to the house?”

Betty hadn’t been inside the sorority house yet.

“Am I allowed?”

“Not technically, but I don’t think anyone will say anything even if they see you.”

“Are you sure?”

They emerged from the neighborhood and back onto campus. The Chi Omega sorority house was not much farther away then. Veronica looked both ways and began to cross the road when it was clear. It was nearly 11:30pm.

“Girls sneak their boyfriends in all the time,” Veronica said, waving it away with her right hand. “Everyone just politely ignores any panting or moaning late at night.”

Why did Betty’s stomach roll at that? “Okay.” Her voice was so small, it barely floated on the wind to Veronica’s back.

“Let’s go around back,” Veronica said when they approached the front of the house. 

The yellow street light illuminated the painted sigil of their group on the sidewalk in front; there was distinctly a skull and owl at the top. How odd , Betty thought. The back was not well lit and Betty huddled in closer to Veronica in the chill night.

“My room’s just upstairs.”

“What about your roommate?”

Before swinging the door open, Veronica turned with a smirk. “I pulled some strings. I’m rooming alone. And I’m pretty much guaranteed a spot.”

Betty didn’t have to be told that money talks. She nodded and followed Veronica into the dark, warmth of the house. It was silent inside. The girls had mostly gone to bed, it seemed. Veronica held up her index finger to her red lips in a shushing motion and moved up the back wooden stairs. They creaked lowly under their feet, but it wasn’t loud enough to rouse suspicion.

Upon entering Veronica’s room, she flicked on a bedside lamp that bathed the furniture in a warm, orange glow. There was a table and chair by the window, which Betty started moving toward.

“Don’t even think about it,” Veronica said, stripping off her coat and dumping it on the floor next to the bed. “Come lay down next to me.”

Betty stood there, frozen, watching in abject delight and horror as Veronica unselfconsciously began to unbuckle the belt around her waist and unbutton the buttons on the front of her blue gingham dress.

“I’m going to slip into my nightgown. You can take off whatever you want and come lay down.”

Betty couldn’t move, her body feeling hot and itchy all over. She wanted to take off her coat, her slightly scratchy skirt, her skin.

Veronica was in a yellow silk nightgown before Betty even realized.

“What are you doing, silly? Come on .”

What is happening here? Betty thought, finally, stiffly moving to take her coat off and drop it on the chair.

Veronica flopped unceremoniously onto her plush duvet and stretched out, her body contorted suggestively, one leg over the other. The word “whore” started to blare in Betty’s mind like an air raid siren before she could shut down the religious shame. She shook the thought away as her best friend’s eyes traveled over her.

“Get over here!” Veronica called. She hadn’t taken her makeup off or her hair down.

“Your lipstick…” Betty trailed off, her voice barely audible.

“Oh! I completely forgot! I’ll be right back.” Veronica hopped up from the bed. “You better be getting comfy by the time I get back.” And then she disappeared out the door, her bare feet making no sound in the hall.

In the comfort of the empty room, Betty felt bold enough to shimmy out of her skirt, leaving her knickers in place, but unclasping her brassiere underneath her blouse and sliding it off. Quickly, she moved to get under the duvet, hiding her body from view, and laying on her back. She was put to mind of the scenarios she used to run in her head of going steady with Archie and her first time…shyly disrobing in front of him, joining him in the bed under the covers, soft and warm skin touching soft and warm skin.

But this was Veronica, not Archie, not a boy. It wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be. Regardless, Betty knew there was something like a small lick of flame, vulnerable at her center at the mere thought of Veronica. She could choose to feed it and nurture it, or smother it in its infancy before it could take root. Veronica couldn’t accept it, of course, and that’s why Betty had to quash that tiny fire burning at her core.

When Veronica returned, she didn’t say anything, just slipped under the covers next to Betty, snuggling in close but staying on her back too. The smooth skin of her arm was warm against Betty’s arm, and Betty started to sweat beneath the heavy duvet, but she didn’t dare complain or move away for fear of shattering the delicate crystal of the moment. Veronica’s hand was against hers, and she could feel the other girl’s pulse with their proximity—it felt like it was jumping. No, that’s not right . Veronica’s breath wasn’t heavy, was it? No, no .

“Betty,” Veronica whispered, syrup in Betty’s ears. “Elizabeth.”

At the use of her full name and not her usual nickname, Betty’s head snapped over to look at Veronica, who’s dark eyes were hooded and searching in the low light. Betty didn’t dare utter a sound; her stomach was rolling and she was sweating, her face was dewy red even in the dark.

“Betty, I have something I want to tell you.”

“Okay,” Betty croaked out, mortified by her own breaking voice.

There was a weighty pause and Veronica rolled over onto her side, facing Betty directly, and placed her hot hand directly over Betty’s lower belly. Betty couldn’t meet her eyes anymore when her muscles jumped at the delicious contact. Veronica didn’t remove her hand.

“Betty Cooper, I think I’m in love with you.”

Breathe , Betty had to tell herself. Say something, idiot!

“It’s…it’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” Veronica began to pull her hand away, disappointment shuttering her face.

Before Betty could think, she snatched Veronica’s hand at the wrist, preventing her from moving. The shock was evident by the delicate o-shape of her mouth.

“Ronnie,” Betty said, voice hitching, “I…can’t stop thinking about you. You live inside my chest.”

Veronica let out the smallest laugh at that. “Does that mean…?”

“It means I think I love you, too.” Betty rolled over so they were face to face, their breaths mingling in the small cavern between their bodies, Veronica’s hand on her hip bone now.

“What about Archie?” Veronica asked, face scrunched in concern.

“It’s complicated,” Betty admitted, “but I think, more than anything, it had to do with proximity…”

“Didn’t help that he’s pretty,” Veronica trailed off wistfully, as the only one of the two of them who had actually dated him for any period of time.

“That did help,” Betty admitted.

“What about Jughead? I know you two broke up, but…”

“It was over for good. And there really are no hard feelings. Jughead said he loved me…but not like that? And he wasn’t sure he could love anyone like that.”

“You two never…?” The implication was clear— had sex .

“Never,” Betty shook her head vigorously, “Jug never wanted to. I don’t think he wants to at all, ever, with anyone.”

“Oh.” Veronica seemed shocked. “Jughead’s a teenage boy and he doesn’t want to have sex at all?”

Betty felt a distinct embarrassment from the word being said so cavalierly. She tried her best to shrug it off. “I don’t know.”

“Did you want to?”

“Kind of. I think I wanted to because I knew I was supposed to want to?”

“I understand that.”

“Did you and Archie?” Betty asked, incredulous that the words have been allowed to escape past her lips.

Is it something she’d thought about before? Absolutely. Did it burn her up inside at night when she thought about it with too much clarity? She would never admit it.

“Do you want an honest answer to that?” Veronica’s confidence was coming out as she earnestly searched Betty’s face.

Betty nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Yes, we did.”

Betty couldn’t help it—she imagined the red headed boy’s strong arms holding himself up over Veronica’s body, Veronica’s breasts exposed to the air with her nipples stiff in the coolness and bouncing softly as Archie thrust down into her, Archie’s glutes straining with the effort, Veronica’s mouth open and head thrown back in flushed pleasure. There was a wet heat growing between her legs as she thought about it.

“Where did you just go?” Veronica asked, bringing her face close to Betty’s now.

“I, um,” Betty stammered, squirming under the scrutiny.

“Oh, you sick puppy! You were thinking about it, weren’t you? Your little active writer’s imagination.”

Betty flopped over onto her back, arm coming up to cover her face in utter mortification.

“It’s okay, Betts. I’ve thought about you, too.”

“You have?” Betty threw her arm away from her face sharply to peek over at the other girl who had propped her head up on one bent arm.

“Definitely,” she nodded with the slyest little grin on her face. “And do you want to know something else?”

Betty swallowed but nodded.

“I touched myself while doing it, too.”

Betty’s eyes widened. “You did?”

Veronica nodded and bit her lip, her face rouging in the dim light of the bedroom. “Yeah.” Her voice was thick. With desire? Embarrassment? Want?

“Do you…want to, now?” What is she saying? Betty couldn’t believe her audacity. It was easier when she was staring up at the spackled white ceiling above the plush bed instead of at Veronica’s face.

“I very much want to.” Veronica admitted. “Is that okay?”

Betty’s throat felt taut as she swallowed thickly, voicebox sliding under her skin. “I want you to, too.”

“Can we start with a kiss?” Veronica asked, leaning down into Betty’s space.

Betty nodded, unable to speak now.

Veronica closed the space between them, leaning down and gently placing her lips to Betty’s. It was so tentative, Betty was sure that Veronica was giving her time to back out. But she wasn’t going to. She was getting the thing she’d been thinking about for so long, she wasn’t about to back out. And just to prove it to herself, she leaned her head up just a little to press her mouth just a little bit harder into Veronica’s.

This broke the floodgates. Veronica rolled her body all the way on top of Betty’s, their breasts pressed together and mouths hungry. Veronica was the one who started to open her mouth against Betty’s, introducing her tongue into Betty’s. Betty knew about French kissing, but she’d never actually done it—it had sounded a little gross to her, but when it was Veronica’s tongue down her throat it all made sense. She wanted to share spit with this girl, to merge their bodies, to fuse their souls.

The kissing riled Betty up so much she found herself subconsciously grinding herself against Veronica’s leg that had wormed between hers.

“Ronnie,” she gasped out.

“Desperate for it?” Veronica asked, pulling back with her lips puffy and slick with spit, a self-satisfied smile stretching them across her face.

“Yes,” Betty gasped out, feeling like a feral animal, bucking her hips up desperately.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” she panted, “please, please .”

Veronica moved away from the position she was in on top of Betty, lowering herself in the covers and hovering on her knees over Betty’s midsection. The other girl didn’t bother to shimmy off Betty’s panties, just moved them over to the side enough to grant access to the downy, strawberry hair between Betty’s legs.

“Pretty,” Veronica said, hunger in her eyes.

Betty would be embarrassed if she wasn’t so achingly desperate at that exact moment. “Please,” was all she could manage.

Veronica was a merciful god. She crouched down and placed her first two fingers of her right hand directly on the pleasure spot, temporarily blinding Betty with desire.

“Oh my god!” Betty shouted.

Veronica slapped a hand over Betty’s mouth, looking smug, and getting to a vigorous pace, rubbing at that spot. Betty had never really allowed herself to explore this part of herself and hadn’t known how good it could actually feel.

“You’ll have to keep it down, my dear. If I have to do it for you, then feel free to keep making noises.”

Betty whimpered, the pressure building in her lower belly in a way she had never experienced before. Is this why people like sex so much? Is this what it can feel like? No wonder people do stupid things to achieve it.

Just as Betty felt like she was about to reach some kind of fever pitch, Veronica pulled her hands away. Betty’s body suddenly deflated, squishing down into the mattress. She hadn’t realized how much tension she was carrying in all her muscles now that she was relaxed, sweat pooling under her knees and her clavicle. 

“Why?” Betty’s voice croaked.

“I…have something I want to try, if that’s okay with you.”

“If it feels as good as that, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“Whatever I want?” Veronica confirmed, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes, just…don’t stop, please.”

“As you command, your highness.”

She threw off the duvet from both of them, exposing Betty’s damp skin to the cool air around them. Her nipples instantly went achingly stiff as she watched Veronica’s back muscles contract prettily while she rummaged through one of the drawers in her armoir. When she finally turned back toward the bed, she was holding a very complicated pile of beautiful, dark leather straps and a…well, a phallus.

“Wh-what is that?” Betty felt a bit alarmed.

Veronica blushed as she perched herself on the edge of the bed. “It’s what’s called a dildo. I just attach it to these straps and I can use it on you…”

“Like a man?”

Veronica nodded, swallowing.

“Where did you even get that thing?” Betty couldn’t even believe it existed.

Veronica fixed her with a look that clearly meant “You know I have my methods.”

Betty nodded in understanding. “Right.”

“Would that be okay?”

Betty thought about it for a minute. “Is it going to hurt? I’ve never…”

Veronica bit her lip, looking thoughtful. She shook her head. “I’ve tried it on myself. It doesn’t hurt. It’s not too big.”

The mere thought of Veronica with that thing hanging heavily between her legs, the smooth leather straps digging into the soft skin of her thighs and belly, was setting Betty on fire.

“I want it,” Betty admitted.

Veronica nodded and made quick work of placing the dildo into the harness. Betty watched, rapt, as Veronica’s deft hands removed her silk nightgown, revealing her soft breasts and panties, and pulled the straps up onto her body.

The sight was better than anything she could have imagined, like in the dreams she had about Archie and his erect cock before her. Veronica’s body was as elegant as Betty thought it would be—soft in all the right places and firm in others—based on the places she’d casually touched the other girl.

“Veronica, you’re perfect,” Betty breathed out, the ache between her legs reaching to a fever pitch. “I need you.”

And just like that, Veronica’s body was pressing hers back into the mattress, sliding down her to pull her panties off, and line the rubber phallus up with Betty’s center.

“Just relax, pet,” Veronica murmured into her ear, sending a shiver down her body and pooling down in her stomach. “I promise I will be gentle with you.”

“I trust you,” Betty confirmed, spreading her legs even wider.

Veronica’s control was commendable, pushing into Betty’s body ever-so slowly. Every few seconds, she stopped to check if Betty was okay. Betty was so wet that it slipped in easily, easier than she would have expected. It was an odd sensation, feeling something in a space that had never been filled before, but it felt right, like the dildo that Veronica had acquired was made to be the perfect fit for her.

“Ronnie,” she whined, “it’s too slow. I need you all the way in.”

Veronica didn’t need to be told twice. She slammed her hips down into Betty’s, and Betty saw stars.

Betty didn’t usually swear, but she couldn’t help the cry of “fuck!” that came out of her mouth involuntarily.

“We’ve got to be quiet,” Veronica was so smug as she slapped a hand over Betty’s mouth and kept pumping her hips.

Betty felt her eyes roll back into her head, the dildo continuously grinding at some perfect spot deep inside her that was overwhelming all of her senses. She shifted her hips to meet Veronica’s strokes at just the right angle so that they hit every time, building up this bubble in her hips that felt like it was fit to burst. It was even better than Veronica’s earlier ministrations against her.

The bubble burst and Betty was left a thrumming, shaking, blissful, sweaty mess. She watched as Veronica reached a carefully manicured hand down into her panties, behind the leather straps, and vigorously start to rub circles, her mouth open in a silent ‘o’ that was so pretty Betty wanted to kiss it, but she couldn’t move. There was a strange energy buzzing through her but her limbs were too heavy and her muscles were spasming.

Veronica’s bubble must have burst too, because she removed her hand and collapsed down onto the soft bed next to Betty in a sweaty heap. The rubber phallus was still standing upright, covered in a shiny, milky slickness that Betty didn’t recognize but distantly knew was from her. It corresponded with the extra wetness pooling in between her legs.

“Did you orgasm?” Betty asked Veronica through pants.

Veronica, who’s dark eyes were closed as her chest heaved, just nodded.

“So did I.”

Veronica snickered. “I know, darling.”

Betty’s stomach clenched at the pet name.

“What time is it?” Betty asked, glancing around the room for any visible clock, finding none.

Veronica rolled over to pull a dainty faced silver watch from the bedside table drawer, tipping it to see the hands in the low light. “Just after 1:30 am.”

“It’s so late!” Betty started to panic and get out of the bed.

Veronica laughed again, grabbing Betty’s arm.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not going to class tomorrow.” She pulled Betty onto her chest. “Let’s get some rest and we’ll go get some breakfast in the morning.”

[1-wonder-1]

My fav panels from planet Smalltown:)

(You can read my comic Planet Everywhere & Planet Nowhere on WEBTOON btw!)

[duckingwriting]

Topes tag game

I was tagged by @ceph-the-ghost-writer here

How-To: Bold/highlight the tropes found in one of your WIPs

No pressure tagging: @winterandwords, @squarebracket-trickster, @mrbexwrites, @author-a-holmes, @mthollowell-writes, and leaving an open tag

I'm doing it for my gay super hero comic that I swear I'm going to finish and send to my wife.

Found Family | The Chosen One | The Martyr | Surprise, Bitch! You thought I was dead | Enemies/Rivals put together for a project | Teen gets kidnapped; parent goes on killing spree to find them | Happy Ever After | Black and White Morality | Fight scene turns into a make-out session | Only one bed | The airport/train/bus station love confession | AUs | Amnesia story | Villain and hero fall in love | Love triangles | Bookworm falls for the bad guy | Killing off the audience’s fave characters | Smalltown falls for Big-City | Princess kisses a frog & gets Prince Charming | Villain redeemed | Protagonist beats “best in the world” | Enemies to friends to lovers | It was all a dream! | Coming of age story

[retrovhsguy]

Part 3/??

Ik I took a rly long time to post part 3 (I almost gave up on doing this comic once again) but now I'm rly excited to finish it :)

- Part 1

- Part 2

[cringengl]

I love the little things in byler fanfics, the stuff that either means a lot but doesn't need to be explained, or author's takes on popular headcanons, it's like easter eggs. Such as:

The number 7 turning up somewhere

Will having a stuffed tiger or his favourite animal being a tiger

Mike only smiling in pictures with Will in them

The colours blue, yellow and green (obviously)

Mike and Will having their own private channel on their walkie talkies

Smalltown Boy and Boys Don't Cry making an appearance

Miwi making comics together

Mike being an English major

The Will Voice

Jennifer Hayes showing up (as well as girls having crushes on Will in general)

Gates such as Flickergate, Lettergate and Birthdaygate

Mike regularly calling to California but none of them getting through

Will with a gun, Mike with a sword

Mike having a crush on Eddie

Mike playing guitar

Mike keeping and loving all of Will's art

Mike making Will a mixtape (especially if it was for his 15th bday)

Will with powers (especially creation or light/electricity powers)

These are all little things off the top of my head that I can remember reading in fics and I'm sure there's many more, but I just wanted to make this an appreciation post for all the byler fic writers out there for making their fics extra special!! I'm always reading byler fics and being astounded by the amount of thought put into them, which is helped by the amazing content in the fandom, including memes, theories, analysis, art etc :))

[cheetahleopard]

Ain't no gossip like smalltown gossip (1118 words) by CheetahLeopard2 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Superboy (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kon-El | Conner Kent/Jason Todd Characters: Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jason Todd, Martha Kent Additional Tags: Fluff, High School, Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, Established Relationship Series: Part 6 of jaytimkon Summary: I need more small town gossip Smallville Kon-centric fic Thinking of this with Jason obviously city boy Jason built like a brick shithouse with his motorcycle and crass mouth and lower Gotham drawl and the whispers when he and Kon go on dates around Smallville and he runs errands and such Finally, Jason hears the bell at the entrance jingle merrily before a familiar voice orders a chocolate shake and fries. He doesn’t look up as Kon walks over and stands next to his booth. The diner falls silent as he slides himself into the booth across from Jason, who finally glances up from his paperback as Kon slides his strawberry shake across the table, taking a big gulp from the straw. There’s a small gasp from someone, and immediately a flurry of whispers start up. No one’s ever seen Conner Kent be so aggressive, much less towards a stranger. Jason just goes back to his book, tapping the boot on the inside of the booth against Kon’s shoe.