#this was sitting in my drafts waiting for you all!

[ryywyd]

HYFR

Wnba!Paige bueckers x black!Oc

Nsfw smut w/ plot, they went to scissor city ;) Author notes. This is my first time posting on tumblr #retiredwattpadgirly but my drafts are full so I’m finally posting. This might have two more parts (idk haven’t decided yet.) oh! And this ain’t proofread sorry

The restaurant lights dimmed the room as the low chatter from the surrounding guess filed the rest of the space, in corner set Saida and Paige both low eyed looking at each other with nothing but lust.

The girl sitting in front of Paige had transformed entirely from the person she had known fours years prior. Her once bare skin was now adorned with black ink and piercings. The change did not bother Paige; in fact, it turned her on more than she expected.

The two had sent a year together at UConn becoming more than acquainted before Saida transferred to ucla, the two wasn't in a relationship but they had an understanding but Paige wanted more than that On the other hand, Saida, influenced by her strict religious upbringing, she couldn't bring herself to it, which led them ending things ,.

And Finally reconnecting with each other– bring them here now, after Paige spotted Saida sitting court side at one of her games. Pulling her back in making her realize why she wanted all of those years ago.

"I'm sorry, what was you saying ?" Paige spoke shaking her head, she had completely tuned out everything Saida had said, she was more focused on how the light hit Saida brown skin that made the black link pop out and how the swoop from her straighten hair fell in her face.

"I said it's nice we could do this." Saida repeated as her eyes fell onto Paige's lips. ' y'know with how i ended everything.. I'm sorry again.,

"You don't gotta' keep apologizing, I'm not holding it against you " She husked her voice low 'we good now.,

"So.. was that your girlfriend ?, Paige questioned changing the subject and breaking the uncomfortable silence between them  "at the game with you ?"

"Something like that?it's more of a situationship, I don't know It's complicated." Saida shrugged pushing her straw around, her eyes roaming over Paige.

"If you gotta' girlfriend..what you doing here with me" Paige tried to push down the jealousy that was starting to show.

Saida shook her head biting the corner of her lip motioning for Paige to lean in,lifting up from your seat meeting her halfway whispering into her ear ' because I want you so bad p;

"We can get this shit to go, you gotta prove it to me ma;

In the span of thirty minutes the two had already made it back to Saida apartment and they couldn't keep their hands off of each other particularly ripping each others clothes off. Stumbling into the room, four years away apart felt like a decade and they were feining  for each other.

Paige gripped her jaw making her mouth open slightly "Open." She demanded as she watched her open up her mouth some more sticking her tongue out

Her split dripped in Saida mouth before she pulled her in, sucking on her tongue "I'm bout' to fuck you so good." She mumbled against her as she moved lips back to hers. As she roughly pulled the skirt Saida wore down rubbing her through the thin lace.

" w-wait, I wanna eat you first." She whimpered out feeling her apply more pressure against her wet cunt, she hummed not hearing ignoring what she said.

"You wanna make me feel good?" Paige asked softly watching as her breaths got heavier as she rubbed between her wet slit "tell me how much you want me."

"Please." Saida plead, she was all over the place she didn't know if the pleads were for Paige to keep touching her or for Paige to let her taste her.

"Get on your knees."

Paige lift her bottom half of the bed, pulling her jeans down along with her boxers repositioning herself at the edge of the bed. Spreading her legs wider; crawling in between her legs kissing the inside of her thighs Paige buckled her hips moving her wet cunt closer.

"Don't tease." Paige breathe out gripping saida's cheeks moving her face into, latching her mouth onto Paige moan softly against the blonde.

"Fuck! You so nasty baby." Paige amused moving her hands into saida's hair pulling her closer than she already was grinding into her face.

Saida was restless more eager to get the blonde to come on her tongue than anything, the vibration from her moans sent Paige over the edge

"Come for me p; make a mess in my mouth." Pulling back enough for Paige to hear her. Her hand creep up sliding a finger into her leaking hole with ease. Attaching her mouth back onto her clit sucking as her fingers move

her fingers curled against the blonde g spot. Paige let out weak moan as her hand flew up gripping the back of her neck, nails digging into her skin as she arched her back.

"Don't stop" the girl panted as she tangled her free hand into the dark hair and tugged. Paige whimpered, feeling her slip back inside of her. She didn't even know that she had done that. It didn't matter though, because it felt amazing. She couldn't hold back, her high finally hitting her.

Saida grinned as she felt the girl's pussy clench around her fingers. Her cum flooded her mouth, her sweet taste making her moan.

"I'm boutta cum, fuck sai right there." Paige whimpered gripping the girl hair harder, moving her her closer holding her head down riding out her orgasm,

finally letting go letting the girl up for air pulling her up by her hair pulling her into a sloppy kiss. Paige tilt her head back Opening her mouth signaling for Saida to spit in her mouth "You gon' let me fuck you now ?"

Paige questioned pulling the girl onto her lap, roughly pulling the thin lace to side flipping them over' let me hear you baby,

"Fuck me please."

Paige shot up, straddling Saida right thigh then lifting her left leg up letting it rest on her broad shoulder. She rolled her hips forward, meeting the girl's sloppy cunt with her own. They both were so wet, arousal dripping onto both of their thighs.

You feel so fucking good, fuck." The younger girl groaned, her head falling back onto the mattress, mouth agape. Paige's hands ran over the girl's smooth legs, fingers dancing over the girl's pussy. Her thumb circled her clit, teasing it.

"Paige.." she breathed out, her hips thrusting up trying to meet the blonde touch.

"Look at that making a fuckin’ mess." Paige cooed her eyes focused on where her pussy gushes onto the girls moving her hips to get the perfect angle.

"D-don't stop baby please." Saida whimper as Paige spreader her legs wider with a strong grip on her thigh fucking herself into the bed making the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly.

Paige let out a groan grinding into the girl faster than she was before , this time the headboard bangs against the wall louder than it already was , covering the filthy sounds of your pussys wetness mixing together.

"oh fuck p- Paige Paige !" Saida frantically chant her name over and over her hands moving all over her before landing on her forearms and digging her nails into them.

"you like when I fuck you like this? Like it when my pussy makes a mess all over yours hm?" She breathlessly whispered, her hips stutter and her nails digging into the girl skin

Such a fuckin’ slut i'm gonna cum all over that pussy" she breathlessly whispers. her hips stutter and her hands grip your thighs harshly.

"Cum all over me baby " Saida whine, not breaking eye contact as her hips jerk forward as she desperately chased after her orgasm

"fuck, fuck, oh god-!" she gasps, eyes squeezing shut as she cums. A mixture of both of the girls hot strings of thick cum landed on Saida lower stomach, dripping down and onto both of their folds. it's all too much. Paige can feel her body tense against saida’s , her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

Paige rolled off the girl, gently placing tender kisses along her shoulder and up to her jawline. She raised her hand to softly trace the love make she had left scattered around her neck.

“You can’t leave me ever again.”

Author note #2. I hope yall liked this fr, I gave up towards the end.

[fireboltposts]

How Stray Kids react to you telling them playfully "I'd trade you for a lifetime supply of chocolates"

A/N : Picture credit goes to the owner.

• You're enjoying a quiet and lazy day off with the Stray Kids member of your choice, happily munching on a chocolate bar and he's silently working next to you . That is until you tell them in a mock serious tone "You know, I'd totally and happily trade you for a lifetime supply of chocolates".

Chris

• He blinks at you in confusion but then pretends to be so hurt.

• "You'd trade me ? Just for some cocoa beans ? Do you know how much effort I put into this relationship ? Are my late night calls, texts, cuddles, kisses not enough for you that you'd trade them for some chocolates ? My worth is so less in front of chocolates".

• And you giggle at his reaction and say "I'm just joking Channie" while messing up his hair a little.

• "I'll let it slide this time but I'll bring you chocolate next time to show you I am irreplaceable", he pouts.

Minho

• He raises an eyebrow at your statement as if to say "yeah like you could live without me".

• "Just so you know, your priorities are all wrong. A chocolate bar won't dance with you or cook for you or even kiss you. Choose wisely dummy".

• And you laugh at his response and he's like "don't even try to explain yourself, I'll be watching you the next time you eat a chocolate and it's going to be a problem if you enjoy it more than you enjoy being with me", he smirks and rolls his eyes.

Changbin

• He can't help but laugh at your weird out-of-the-blue statement.

• "I work out every single day, write love songs for you and even share my food with you and you're telling me I can easily be replaced by some cocoa products ? Wow I have been replaced huh by some mere KitKat. Great great", he says, pretending to be hurt.

• He later holds up a chocolate bar and asks you playfully, "so who's it gonna be, this chocolate or me ?", with an amused smile.

Hyunjin

• Hyunjin, being his dramatic self, would clutch his chest in mock hurt.

• "You'd trade ME for some chocolates ? That too HAPPILY ? Wow I guess I was wrong huh. I thought I was your number one, your soulmate, your one true love but I've been demoted to second place by a mere Ferrero Rocher. Wow just wow, I have no words".

• You'd poke his cheek "aww Jinnie ever the dramatic I love you, buuuut I love chocolate a liiiiitle but more", you say playfully.

• "Maybe I'm dramatic but you brought this on yourself".

• He'd later get you an entire Ferrero Rocher box and will say "Chocolates will never love you the way I do, my love,but here you go".

Han

• He looks up from his laptop and gasps loudly. "Are you serious ? Chocolates really ? That's all it'd take ? I thought I meant more to you than some bar of chocolate".

• You giggle at his response and squish his squirrel-like cute cheeks and tell him that you're just messing with him.

• "No no it's not done. I thought I was special to you but no it's your caramel chocolate that gets your love. I was just writing this love song for you, sitting beside you and getting inspired, but no, wait I'll change it into a diss track for you and your chocolates. It will be on our next album".

Felix

• He had been drafting an email to one of his endorsement offers and at your statement he looks up at you with innocent eyes, momentarily confused, and then pretends to be hurt.

• "What ? I bake you yummy brownies, I bring you snacks and I cuddle with you, but you're saying I'm secondary just because I don't come in a fancy wrapper ?"

• And you smile "innocently" at him and he's like "ok i forgive you this time only because you're cute and that wouldn't actually trade me for chocolate right ?", he asks, pulling you into a hug, setting his laptop aside.

• "Who knows Lixie, who knows ?", you wink.

Seungmin

• He looks up at you with a deadpan expression as he was folding his freshly washed laundry.

• "Chocolate ? That's all ? I guess I'll see myself out then".

• And you're like "I'm joking Minnie" and he raises an eyebrow.

• "No, no. Don’t backtrack now. You’ve made your choice. Enjoy your life with your chocolates while I’m off being amazing somewhere else."

• He later hands you a white chocolate bar and is like "Don't tell me I don't fulfill your wishes, doll".

Jeongin

• He looks up at you, both eyebrows raised, " what did you say ?"

• "You heard me Innie", you smirk.

• "You'd trade me for some chocolates ? Wow, do you hear yourself right now ? Are you out of your mind ? Chocolates ? I thought I was your special person but you've replaced me with a box of Dairy Milk ? Wow Y/N wow, unbelievable. I am so offended right now", he says as he pretend to sulk and shakes his head as you pulling him into a playful hug.

• He later hides your favourite chocolate and when you ask him about it he responds casually, "no more chocolates for you until you admit I'm better", giving you a cheeky grin.

A/ N : Hope you liked it. Do like, comment, reblog and follow if you did. Meanwhile you can find the rest of my masterlist here.

[morganas-pendragons]

grief | elrond peredhel

a short little thing about helping Elrond through his grief over Elros. Think I may release one more drabble tonight as I am really trying to clear my drafts out. This is an actual drabble this time!!! It's less then 1K LOL

"I not only live each day in endless grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief." - CS Lewis, A Grief Observed

For someone who has believed until this point that you knew Elrond Peredhel well, this may be the only time you can confidently note that you cannot find him in any of his usual hiding places.

That is what causes you to go seeking Galadriel and The High King. To you, it is a normal day. A normal day in Lindon among comrades and friends in which you spend weeks preparing for the next event featuring the court of musicians that Gil-Galad employs for such an occasion. Your free time is spent with Elrond, lingering amid the trees within each other's embrace and whispering poetry among the rays of sunshine and flowers that scatter along Lindon's fields.

You do not find him there today. Not there, not at the waterfall, not in the garden. He is nowhere to be found. The thought of something having happened to him concerns you, and that is what leads you to GIl-Galad's courts where you find him and Galadriel conversing with one another. Their conversation is hardly perceptible enough for you to hear. It does not matter. You stride towards them with haste, intent on finding Elrond before the sun reaches its peak of the afternoon.

Gil-Galad seems to have been waiting for your arrival. He does not look surprised that his violinist has come to meet with him.

"High King," You begin, bowing lowly to him and Galadriel. “Forgive me for the intrusion.”

“It is not an intrusion, dear friend,” Galadriel’s calm voice responds. She is always, to you at least, the perfect picture of composure. You envy that ability. “What ails you?”

“I cannot find Elrond.”

You know something is wrong by the way that Gil-Galad and Galadriel look at each other. Your gut has been telling you all morning that Elrond’s sudden disappearance has a purpose, and it seems you are right.

“This is one day of the year that Elrond does not wish to be found,” Galadriel murmurs, sadness tinging her tone as her eyes fall to the floor. Her fingers skate across where she used to keep Finrod’s dagger at her hip. “We are never able to locate him.”

“Why? What is important about today?” You ask. Dread bubbles in your stomach as you fidget with your fingers. The King will not meet your eyes.

Elrond has been forthcoming about most of his upbringing to you thus far. Being the son of Eärendil The Mariner and Elwing, the Silmarils, Maglor and Maedrhos... All of it.

The one thing he has told you little about is Elros.

For the first time in the time you'd known her, sympathy flickers across Galadriel's face as she crosses the gap between you to take your hands into her own. You are dearest to Elrond. Due to that, she feels a deep obligation to look after you when he can't.

"This is the anniversary of Elrond's twin's death," Gil-Galad interjects before Galadriel can reply. Your fearful aspects crumples into something akin to sadness and a familiarity of grief that makes your heart ache. "I often do not call upon Elrond on this day. I never have found where he hides, but he sits in his solitude to ruminate over the loss of his brother on this day every year."

You square your jaw and squeeze Galadriel's hands before stepping away.

"If you will grant me leave, High King," You remark. "I wish to find my beloved before nightfall."

Of all the people Gil-Galad would expect to successfully find Elrond, you may be the only one on that list who could offer him comfort and bring him home before he caught ill in the chill that lingered in the air. Gil-Galad knows the depths of which Elrond loves you. It is a depth that far surpasses the weight of his upbringing, which he has endured.

He nods.

You are bounding up Lindon's staircases and out into its golden forests before you can hear their farewell, keen Elvish eyes peeled for the familiar form of your lover as you seek him out in all of your secret hiding places.

The lake, the waterfall, the garden, the library. All are empty.

"Where is it that you go to grieve, love?"

"Where the song is heard the quietest, where all the world comes to a halt, and where the heart falls somber."

You find him at the edge of Lindon where a single statue stands amid a small graveyard. You've seen it while coming and going from the city, mostly to Eregion to meet with other musicians and artists. No one would pay attention to it if they were not looking.

You have never truly taken the time to recognize it for what it is.

Elros Tar-Minyatur.

You don't say anything as you approach. Elrond is knelt at the feet of the statue, hands wound in the fabric of his cloak as he weeps. Not a sound escape his lips. This must be what grief feels like. Silent suffering over a face, a name, a heart that the rest of the world will never come to know again because you are what remains of their memory.

You hum softly to acknowledge your presence and rest your hand on his shoulder. He leans into it, seeking out the touch of your comfort, while his hands move upward to hide his face and the tears that stain his cheeks.

You do not shush him. You simply kneel in the dirt and take Elrond into your arms, kissing a head of damp curls as he slides into the part of your legs and clutches at you so hard that you're sure his fingerprints will leave bruises. His grief will slip into your bloodstream, and you too will feel the aching hole that comes with the loss of one so dear to him.

You do little but hold Elrond there. Press a kiss to his temple, to his hair, to his forehead.

There, wrapped in the warmth of the embrace of one who loves him still and will continue to do so, Elrond allows you to see the heart of him that bleeds over a twin who chose mortality, who chose men.

You wonder if Elros would choose him, were he allowed to live again.

You stare up at the statue as if Elros will speak to you.

I will live to love him for you. I promise.

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week’s writer spotlight feature is:  @cuips-not-cute! cuips_not_cute has six fics in the Stranger Things fandom on AO3 and all of them are in the Steddie tag!

Our anonymous nominator recommends the following works by @cuips-not-cute:

he could be brave

blood is an aphrodisiac

honeyed affection

blinking red light

cyclical

"cuips is a master of taking the reader on an emotional roller coaster ride. The amount of times I've laughed and cried at the same time reading his fics have been too numerous to count. Especially the depth of the sex scenes and the character beats and growth they portray are gorgeous to read - and also very titillating. I love Steve and Eddie in every one of cuips stories, adore the little mannerisms they are given and the way they interact with each other and other characters. Besides the inspiring prose cuips can pull off a plot like few other people I've found so far - since blinking red light is still ongoing, I'll just point to cyclical for that. I'm very thankful to cuips for writing and posting these stories and for being a very active part of this lovely fandom." -- anonymous

Below the cut, @cuips-not-cute answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

i don’t even know. i was happily in the ofmd fandom when i watched season 4 almost three years ago now (oh god) and then the characters… they got me. i fear they’ll never leave.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

god, so many. they’re all kinda the same flavor though so i’ll list out what i’m always filtering for to find a new fic: bottom/sub eddie, creature/monster eddie, post s4, canon compliant, soft dom steve, sex pollen, spit kink, rimming (perhaps my FAVORITE ever thing to read), switch eddie/switch steve… the list goes on.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

probably also rimming. there’s just something so romantic about eating ass. and i really love to stick with post s4 canon compliant aus, too, i don’t think i’ve written an actual for real au yet, though i do have an idea for one after brl.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

i don’t know if i can pick!! my ao3 bookmarks host my many all-time faves, but if you wanna go by the fic i’ve reread the most it’s probably the affliction of the feeling. it’s so fucking good.

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

YES!!! i have never written omegaverse!!! which is crazy, ‘cause i like it a LOT. i have a post-s4 omegaverse au kicking around in my head currently, and i cannot wait to sink my teeth into all the messy biology and politics that come with the omegaverse.

What is your writing process like?

chaotic, in a word. usually, i’ll get a fic idea while i’m balls-deep in writing another fic so i’ll shove it to the side and let it simmer while i finish that first one, then i’ll spend a good long while planning it out in ridiculous detail, and THEN i’ll start actually drafting. i like to have a fully fleshed out outline and a couple chapters written and edited before i start posting, and once posting begins i tend to deviate quite a bit from my outline but it’s all good fun.

Do you have any writing quirks?

definitely. i don’t like pointing them out for fear of other folks seeing them in everything i do, but they’re there. one that i don’t mind so much is my absolute abuse of the word “little.” everything is “a little” of this, “a little” of that, but i try to cut my usage down significantly while i’m editing.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

i always TRY to keep a schedule but… yeah. it never works. i’m far too busy for one, but attempts are made. i’d like to one day write a fic in full before posting it, because i think it’d be a whole lot better if i let it sit for that long but lord, i sure do like getting ao3 comments on every chapter. they make the writing motivation go WAY up.

Which fic are you most proud of?

brl, definitely. that fucker is LONG and i’m barely halfway through it. i think i’ve done a lot of cool things with it and i’m going to do some more cool things and i’ve made a lot of really awesome friends in the process of writing it so it’s got some pretty insane sentimental value to me. it’s definitely going to be a fic i’ll miss writing once i finish it, but that’s what the epilogue series is for!!!

How did you get the idea for blinking red light?

from another fic!!! @racketghost is the author of one of my favorite things i’ve ever read, which is the good omens zach and miri au, closed set (https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320960/chapters/55862155 <- hyperlinked), wherein crowley has been lying about the existence of some angelic sex tapes to all of hell, and then he and aziraphale have to actually make the tapes. it’s awesome. it’s gorgeous. brl is one big giant love letter to this fic, because it means so fucking much to me and i think about it ALL the time. 

When writing honeyed affection, what was something you didn’t expect?

hmm, i don’t know? ha is, i think, a pretty easygoing fic with lots and lots of porn stuffed inside it, and that was all i intended it to be so i cannot think of anything i was surprised by!!

What inspired blood is an aphrodisiac?

i just wanted to write vampire eddie. it was july ‘22, kas theories were everywhere, i had to try it. these days i think i would change a LOT about it because my ideas and hcs surrounding the characters have evolved significantly, but i’ll write vampire eddie again and “fix” everything i no longer like about biaa.

What was your favorite part to write from he could be brave?

…the fisting. i genuinely think some of my best writing is in that scene, and while i feel the same way about this fic as i do biaa, the fisting scene will always hold a special place in my heart. i’m very, very excited to write the fisting chapter in brl because of this scene. fisting rules.

How do/did you feel writing cyclical?

i wrote cyclical during a very weird few months of my life, so writing it was sort of my way of dealing with all the insane shit going on around me, and i think it shows. in a good way, though, because cyclical is a timeloop fic so it needed to be a little angsty and insane. i’m stupidly proud of that fic. @ryeallytired actually BOUND it into a PHYSICAL BOOK and SENT IT TO ME and when i tell you that is the singular most precious object i own, i mean it.

What was the most difficult part of writing blinking red light?

PLOTTING THAT BITCH. GOD. i’m so happy to be actually WRITING it now, the planning was genuinely so brutal. my issue was that i was sticking too close to the plot of closed set (<3) which just… did not work for steddie. closed set’s premise centers around crowley lying about making sex tapes, yes, but he lied about them to PROTECT aziraphale, which is the messiest, kindest, riskiest fucking thing ever. and it’s awesome. in the early planning stages of brl, i was trying to put eddie in the crowley role of lying about having made sex tapes with steve, but it reallyyy didn’t work. there was an oc and i absolutely hated him, plus i didn’t like what that premise was doing to eddie’s character… ugh. it was a MESS. it took several rubber duck-ing conversations with my brilliant friend @lollaika and a rewatch of zach and miri to finally realize that it had to be STEVE who brings up the idea of sex tapes so that he could protect eddie, rather than eddie bringing it up to save his own hide (yikes).

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

oooh, lots. reallyyyy loved chapter 8 of cyclical with all of the pov shifts, that was super fun to write. i also really enjoyed writing the dry humping/sex tape convo in the first chapter of brl, and i’m stupidly excited to write chapters 12, 13, 15, and 17, because of specific scenes that will happen in each.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

i do!! after brl is completed i’ll have to choose from two story ideas (because i cannot have two wips at once or i’ll get SO stressed), one being a semi-realistic steddie cowboy au based off my own experiences with growing up on a farm and featuring messy, earnest cowboys and not-fully-human eddie, and the other being the omegaverse au i want to write, which will have a very fun mix of vampire eddie, dubcon bitching, and accidental mating bites!!!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

i cannot think of anything!! this was super fun :D

Thank you to our author, @cuips-not-cute, and our anonymous nominator! See more of cuips_not_cute's works featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer’s Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[0catiiyori0]

some headcanons for @zeivira's crack au "No sleep for the wicked" that is invading my head and is living rent free and is stoping me from writing my own au (and study) so ya let me release the drain

I honestly can't stop thinking abt how garfiel would first react to Subaru's "illness". maybe because I don't know if the information that the witch cult members are also always sleepy is widely known, but if it is- my boi Subaru must have the strongest coffee in his disposal because that boy won't be sleeping for 3 days straight (or was it two?). I imagine that he'll sleep the first two loops but then his scent is so strong and to add to that his sleeping "illness" would make ryuzu's alarm bells skyrocket and it'll be way too harder than the og white rabbit loop lmao. but if it isn't I think that'll make garfiel think of Subaru to be way less harmless. can't really do anything if he's unconscious for a couple of hours everyday ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯. but i don't think he'll sleep anyway in the winning loop, just like in canon the difference is that he'll keep trying to stay awake for as long as he can. and when things calm down beatrice would force him to sleep and then garfiel would panic cuz he beat the shit out of him, him the same person who he has gained respect for and now after all that he had done turns out he has the same deadly illness that took the Royal family yet is doing miracles, I used to think that garfiel won't be able to stan subaru more than he already does, but that? ya well I'll be damned if he didn't.

now I didn't read the novels cuz I'm waiting for season 3 to end but I've gotten spoilered pretty good to know the general idea of what's going to happen (cries) . so rainhard, MY BOI IS GOING TO BE SO SAD THAT HE DIDN'T KIDNAP SUBARU WHEN HE HAD THE CHANCE LMAO. like yeah he was able to find the supposedly last royal member alive (*cough*we will act like cappella doesn't exist*cough*) and he's happy to serve them again, but Subaru has the same illness that took them in the first place, so i think he'll feel some kind of responsibility to help him even if he can't have him in the same camp, that sense of responsibility to be able to defeat the illness that took them and that might take his friend too, he couldn't protect the people he was supposed to protect, so the least he can do to them is getting rid of what took them. He needs to help Subaru, because of him now, because he couldn't beat the illness Subaru is suffering, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone succumb to it again. I know that the felt camp would be also heavily included in the research along crusch camp now lol.

"The tale of a hero fighting the world, cursed with the same fate as the people of the throne, the royal family. The Sleeping Beauty Illness. Yet is still making miracles after miracle, serving his lady, fighting monsters, saving lives. Truly, for he is the tragic hero"...ya you'll hear this in a bar lol. (or sung by Liliana lol).

Y'all... we're missing something here... THE PILLOW LAP XHJAJXBSJ, EMILIA WOULD BE SO TERRIFIED OF THE BOY WHO CRIED ALL OVER HER ONLY FOR HIM TO FAINT SUDDENLY JSJDJJS "wdm you were sleeping??? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD ARE YOU OK?? ARE YOU SICK??? that's it we're taking you to a doctor" and subaru would be so panicked cuz he's ok he doesn't need a doctor!!! there are way more important things such as THE SHAMAN THAT'S GONNA TARGET THE VILLAGE SOON. rip my guy...

I want to point out more but this has been sitting in my drafts FOR A WHILE so ya hope you like it sensei <3

[simpingforheros]

Lover Man

Pairing: Roy Harper X Single Mom! Female! Reader

Summary: Roy Harper gave up on love after his relationship with Cheshire never went anywhere other than creating his bundle of joy that was Lian Harper. That was until she came knocking on his door.

Warnings: 18+, Minors Do Not Interact, Female Reader/Female Pronouns/ Female Anatomy, Fluff eventually turning into Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Close Proximity, Mentions of Drug Addiction, Implied Abuse, Heavy Make-Out Session, Dry Humping, Implied Breeding Kink, Roy Harper being our Gentle King ((only this time)).

A/N: Soooo I had another Roy fanfic written completely in the drafts…and I hated it 💀. So I rewrote it and here it is. It’s a wee bit longer than my normal fanfics and I wanted to add more fluff and more descriptive detail instead of just smut. Please leave me some comments if you like this or if you don’t lol. Thank you.

A/N: I got my own ginger so it makes me wanna write about my second favorite ginger since I hardly see writing for him outside of him being a throuple with Jason. Roy Harper is just as hot as Jason because man’s literally got himself out of a bad place just for his daughter 😭🥹. Our responsibility king. Also Lian is aged up to 7 years old in this.

Dividers >>>> @cafekitsune

Roy Harper was a hardworking man. He slaves over his small mercenary missions with the occasional events of saving the city in the mix of raising a 4 foot ball of energy all on his own. He felt exhausted most the time, but that exhaustion keeps him out of trouble. It also gets him out of any venture for a personal life.

Sure, Roy had the Outlaws who would swing by after missions just to hangout and drink, and the Titans make a rare appearance to visit their favorite niece. Even Ollie and Dinah would occasionally come by to visit. But, after Jade came and left him high and dry, his heart was hollow…

Lian was his whole world and stars. He never thought he could love someone as much as he loved his little girl. He dragged himself out of his drug addiction just so he can take care of her, and she should be enough to make the backbreaking labor enough.

However, he notices how the doodled Mother’s Day cards that used to litter the fridge for Jade began to dwindle as her eyes began to look longingly at the other parents who had two parents and a pair or two of siblings. Lian says she’s happy to live with her Dad, who was her bestest friend in the world, but the occasional crayon drawings say otherwise.

The stick figures of Lian and Roy with a faceless woman and another stick figure child making it very clear that Lian wanted a mother figure, or at least a sibling.

Maybe one day Roy can give it to her…but right now he was too tired.

“What do you mean you forgot??” Roy yells into the phone as he speed walks back to his apartment complex.

He should have known better than to ask Garfield to wait at his apartment for Lian to come home and babysit for a couple of hours while he went grocery shopping. This week has been hell on him. He’s been dealing with some of Black Mask’s crew trying to expand to Star City and when he would try to get some sleep, the noise of some new neighbors moving in woke him up constantly. This was really his only chance to go do anything and Beast Boy forgot to come.

“I asked you to do one thing, Gar! Be here and watch Lian until I got back. How can forget to watch a 7 year old girl?” Roy seethes as he walks into the main lobby and bolting up the stairs.

His heart was pounding with all the possible scenarios. He knows he’s overreacting, that she was just probably sitting by the locked door either entertaining herself or crying. But he also couldn’t help but be paranoid that she strayed off to go find him or someone snatched her up.

His worst fear coming to reality as he walks onto his floor and sees no one. He quickly gets to his door and jiggles the nob, feeling the secured lock.

Just as Roy was about to scream at Garfield again to relieve the unrelenting anxiety, the sound of a door opening behind him catches his attention as a familiar ring fills the static.

“Daddy!” Lian yells as Roy turns around, relief filling his body as he kneels down to greet the girl.

“Oh fuck, you scared me.” He says, as he sighs in relief. His strong arms holding the small girl tight to his chest.

“I’m sorry,” the girl mumbles with sympathy pooling in her dark eyes. “I was walking Wren and she wanted me to see her new room.”

‘Wren? Who’s Wren?’ Roy thought as he quirks his eyebrow just as movement catches his eyes again to the door.

Another little girl was standing in the door way to the apartment. She looked the same age as Lian with colorful ribbons in her hair and the matching Star Academy uniform on as Lian.

‘Another Star Academy student? There isn’t any other student living here…’

Then the realization that this was one of the new neighbors hits him as a taller figure appears behind Wren. Her voice throwing Roy in a trance as she scolds the girl.

“Wren, I told you to not stare. Especially at strangers.” Her voice gently but protective as she kept her eyes on Roy. Her hand already on her daughter’s shoulder as her daughter apologizes.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I wanted to see Lian’s Dad and see if I can come over…”

The woman was the same age as him from what he can tell. Healthy, glowing skin despite the dark bags under her eyes. Her hair glowed like a halo in the fluorescent light of the hallway despite the messy frizz of what he thought used to be a protective hairstyle that her work day destroyed. Her boxy scrubs doing noting to hide her figure as the familiar logo of Star City General Hospital shined brightly.

“Dad.” Lian’s inpatient voice cuts through his daze as he looks to his daughter.

“Huh?” He says as his daughter giggles.

“I said, can I show Wren my room? I wanna show her all my Bluey toys.” She says excitedly.

His eyes briefly flickering over to the other excited little girl before stating gently, “I have no problem with it, but did you ask Wren’s mom if she can.”

“Yea! Miss (L/N) said it was alright.” She says happily.

‘Miss? I guess she’s not married…’ he thought as he handed Lian his keys with a joking quip, “Don’r throw a party while I’m over here talking to Miss (L/N).”

The girls giggle before running over to Roy’s apartment and entering. Roy stands up to his full height as he gives the mother a smile. She returns it with her own as she says,

“Normally Wren is pretty shy, so I was happy to see she made friends with a good kid.” She says as she pushes some stray hair out of her face before offering him her hand. “I’m (Y/N) by the way.”

“Roy. Roy Harper.” He introduces himself as he shakes her hand. He couldn’t help but smile brighter as they pulled their hands away, proud that his daughter helped out a new kid.

“Lian doesn’t have much of a shy side to her. I blame it on her mom’s genetics.” He jokes with a soft chuckle.

“You and your wife must be proud.” She says softly as she props her hip against the doorframe.

“Oh no, I’m not married.” He corrects her as he nervously stuffs his hands in his pocket as he felt a pang of gloom over his heart. “It’s just me and Lian.”

Her eyes dropped as she crosses her arms over her chest as she mumbles, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume…”

“No, youre alright.” He assures her with a shrug. “Honestly, I should be apologizing for your first impression of me being my kid locked out of my apartment.”

She giggles as she waves him off as she says, “Lian told me that her normal babysitters weren’t in town and that ‘Uncle Gar’ was suppose to be here.”

“Yeaaa.” He groans as he defends himself. “I promise that i’m normally on top of the babysitting situation since I normally work nights.”

She nods as she says, “I understand. I have to find my own babysitter now that I moved across the country. I work days at the hospital.”

The idea seeming to strike them at the same time as both their little girls scream in delight as they play in the apartment over.

A compromise between two single parents.

The deal was easy and benefited both of them. Since she had to work 12 hour shifts on a 3 on, two off basis, (Y/N) would drop the girls off at school on her way to work, and Roy adjusted his “work” time so he can be home when they come home from school and babysit until Wren’s mom gets off from work.

When (Y/N) was off and Roy is working, She will keep both girls at her apartment and gets them ready for school in the mornings before they tag off.

During the rare occurrence that Roy had to go away on a “business trip”, the girls would just be with (Y/N) full time with Roy’s promise that it will only be a week and he will watch them when the weekend comes so she can rest.

This has been the routine for three months, and Roy enjoyed it more than he should. It felt great knowing that Lian was in capable, non vigilante hands when he was away and she had a female role model to who doesn’t fight crime in spandex.

Roy also adored Wren. She took a minute to break out of her shell, but she reminded him a lot of Jason. A quiet type who surprised him with her temper and mischief. He can see why (Y/N) is the kind of parent she is and how she easily keeps Wren and Lian in line.

Over the weeks, Wren and Lian became the dynamic duo of Star Academy. They did everything together and would cry if they couldn’t. The two even begged their respective parents for matching Bluey backpacks and sparkly shoes so they can match all the time. They even developed a cute habit of leaving colored drawings under the apartment doors for the other to find. The friendship was very heart warming and helped form the bond between their parents.

The two had a lot in common too. More than they expected.

“Wanna beer?” Roy offered as he stood up from the couch.

“No thank you.” She answers as she focuses on wrapping the present infront of her.

Tomorrow was Wren’s birthday, and while the girls are having a sleep over in Lian’s room, Roy and (Y/N) prepped for her birthday party.

“You sure, doll?” He says as he grabs a couple beers. He sits beside her and holds his open bottle near her as he jokes. “You gonna let me drink alone, and make me look depressed?”

Her eyes darken as she scoots away from him. The air turning cold as she snaps on him. “I said No, Roy.”

Roy immediately freezes before frowning in concern. He puts the beer on the coffee table as he whispers to her. “Hey, I’m sorry…”

Her eyes relax as her shoulders slump. She sighs softly as she mumbles. “No, I’m sorry…”

She reaches into her pocket a pulls out a familiar looking token and hands it to him. A 5 year sobriety coin. His brows shoot up as he looks at her in shock.

She giggles somberly as she says, “it’s not mine. It’s my Dad’s.”

She pulls her knees to her chest as she looks to the wall around the muted tv. Pictures lining the wall of Lian and Roy with some of just them or with friends. She smiles softly as she recounts.

“My dad was a bad alcoholic, but a good dad. He would take me with him everywhere he could and it would be like everyday was a good day. I was too young to realize he drank too much or he yelled at my mom a little too harshly.” She says as she picks at the material of her socked covered feet.

“It wasn’t until I got pregnant with Wren that he realized he had to sober up. He managed to stay clean for almost 6 years until a drunk driver hit him.” She chuckles sadly as she sees the irony in her dad’s death. “He even help me leave my ex who was also a bad drinker. I guess seeing my dad doing it my whole life, I thought it was normal…”

Her arms wrapping around herself before finally looking back at Roy. Her eyes meeting his green ones, her gaze watery as she wipes the tears away.

“I’m sorry, that was too much to put on you..” she said as her voice wavers a bit. “You can drink though I don’t-“

Roy gets up and takes his beers to the kitchen. Confused by his abruptness, she follows him, only to see him dumping out his open beer and starting to dump out the other one. She looks at him confused as he finishes dumping the liquid out before he pulls out his wallet and pulls out a coin.

He hands both coins to her as she reads the one he pulled out of his wallet. 7 years sobriety.

“You were…?” She mumbles is disbelief before he answers.

“Yep, former heroine addict…” he says as he leans back against the counter. His arms flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest. His eyes shining with seriousness as he says,

“I understand why your dad got help. I did the same thing when I found out about Lian, and I don’t ever wanna do anything that can jeopardize giving her a better life than I had…”

An emotion crosses his face that makes her nervous but excited as he admits.

“And I don’t want to do anything that would drive you out of mine.”

“Please, (Y/N)!” Lian begs as Wren stands behind her with her puppy dog eyes shining behind her.

Those were the famous last words that were said when Lian and Wren convinced her to allow them to go to a slumber party while Roy was out of town. (Y/N) didn’t see the harm since it was Friday night and the girls had been good. Besides, Roy was supposed to be home late tonight so he can enjoy his Saturday morning resting.

It was a good idea. Or at least that’s what she thought before she got mugged on her way home from dropping off the girls.

The woman didn’t see it coming when she was snatched off the street and pinned to an alley wall as a disgust voice coos at her.

“Easy, Babygirl.” The masked man purrs as his dirty finger nails digged into her arms. “Just give me your purse and we can both walk away happy.”

“Fuck off!” She says as she tries to yank away from him .

“Now don’t be such a-!” His growl interrupted as the swoop of air shoots between them. She looks to where it lands and sees a red arrow buried into the wall behind them. The mugger was the first to look back to where it came from before gasping,

“Arsenal? What’s he doing here?” He curses as he pulls (Y/N) in front of him, making the struggling woman a human shield. “I’m armed, and I’m not afraid to hurt the bitch!” He says as he pulls out a knife and holds it to her neck.

(Y/N) only heard about the vigilante through the news. Apparently he used to be Green Arrow’s sidekick before he went solo for some reason and he was a rough guy. He works with the Red Hood who was known for killing criminals so she understood why the man was scared as a figure dropped down from a rooftop with his bow ready to shoot.

Her panic setting in as the bite of the blade was pressed hard to her neck, the anxious blade knicking her. Her panic eyes were set on the archer as she watches him slowly approach.

He looked…familiar. His height and built was impressive despite him being more on the leaner side and his features not obstructed by his sunglasses and hat reminded her of Roy…

“Let the girl go.” Arsenal warns the burglar. His voice was deep, but it didn’t sound natural. It was like he was trying to make his voice sound different. “You’re just pissing me off more and I’m gonna end up breaking your eye socket in.”

The criminal trembles before deciding the best escape plan. He grabs ahold of her purse before throwing her in Arsenal’s direction. Unprepared to the violent shove, (Y/N) falls to the ground before the vigilante can catch her. Her yelp filling space as the hero kneels down beside her to make sure she wasn’t stabbed.

“Hey, you alright?” He says as he scans her body for any serious injury.

She pushes herself up, cringes as her wrist throbs. His large gloved hands on her back and shoulder as he helps her stand when she notices his exposed arm. A familiar faded green tattoo visible on his bicep as the pieces fall together.

“Roy?…” She asks as she looks up Arsenal. Despite his eyes being covered, she can tell he was looking at her in a panic that she figured him out.

“Yea…” He confirms before looking behind her as he realizes the motherfucker stole her purse. He pulls his aviators down to the bridge of his nose, his eyes shining in concern as he mumbles to her.

“Go home. I’ll meet you there so we can talk about it.”

The look in his eyes and the pounding adrenaline makes her fear melt away as she nods her head.

“Okay.”

The throbbing pain in her wrist didn’t stop when she finally made it back to her apartment building, acting as her anchor as the revelation that Roy’s secret night job was him being a Robin Hood copycat.

Thinking back on it, she should have figured he wasn’t a normal guy. Constant bruises, noticeable limps, and stolen ibuprofen were a routine in their life.

The thought made her stop for a second in the stair way.

Their life. The one they shared for months basically together. At first it was just two single parents helping each other out while their daughters bonded. Then her and Roy began to get close, close enough to where they were constant in each other’s apartments as the other child was.

Now he saved her life…maybe he already did that the first day in the city and she babysat a kid she didn’t know…

As she reaches the arch way between the two apartments, her hands searches her pockets for her keys when disappointment answers her.

The keys were in her purse.

With a sigh, she decides to sit on the ground besides Roy’s door as she waits. (Y/N) curls herself into a ball with her knees to her chest as she felt the familiar feeling of exhaustion nipping her eyelashes.

(Y/N) was a hard working woman. When she wasn’t working herself like a dog in the Emergency Room, she was handling a 4 foot ball of attitude. She didn’t have time for any ventures outside of that. She loves Wren with all her heart, but that doesn’t help the hollow part of her heart from throbbing…maybe someday she can give Wren a father who’s worth something. But right now, she was too damn tired.

The door opens behind her as she jumps awake. The woman didn’t even realize she almost fell asleep, but a warm hand opens in front of her as she looks up.

Roy was standing in front of her now. A grey zip up was pulled over his shoulders to cover his costume as her purse hanged on his arm. His soft smile made her stomach flutter as he breaks the silence.

“I guess I got some explaining to do…”

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead she gives him her hand and stands up with his help. Her injured wrist cradled to her chest as they enter the apartment. The movement still felt natural despite the circumstances. Roy didn’t even have to ask about her arm to know she needed first aid on her wrist.

He tended to her sprained wrist as he tells her his life story. She already knew about the general events of his childhood and his life with Oliver Queen, but didn’t know he was a sidekick turned mercenary. The whole story made her head spin as she thought about the man tending to her as a boy wearing yellow and red spandex and managing to attract a female assassin who was Lian’s actual mother…

“So…” Roy says as he expects some sort of reaction out of her.

“So… You are a vigilante…Ollie and Dinah are too.” She recounts as she rubs her bandaged wrists. “And your ex is an assassin…”

(Y/N) sighs before looking at the nervous ginger fidgeting in his seat. His nerves were haywire.

‘What if she leaves?’

‘What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me or Lian anymore?”

‘Is she gonna keep Wren from Lian and Me?’

“Okay”

The phrase makes Roy’s neck snap was he blinks wildly at her. His heart pounding as he scans her completely calm face with a soft smile on her face as she giggles at his baffled expression.

“Okay? That’s all you gotta say?”

“I mean sure I’m not a fan of the whole putting yourself in danger shtick, but if that’s the only downside to you, then I’m okay with it.” She says calmly before giving him a serious glare. “Just as long as the girls are never endangered.”

Roy couldn’t help but fall out of his chair and on his knees infront of her as he laughs. His hands pulling her into his lap as he enjoys the chill of relief as his body yearns for the reassurance of her touch. It wasn’t until he cupped her face that he realized just how intimate their position was.

Definitely not something friends should be doing….

But are they just friends?

“Roy…” She mumbles. Her eyes speaking to his soul as the exhaustion and months of connecting and yearning reach the apex. Or maybe it was the reflection of his own feelings bubbling up as he moves her hair away from her face.

“I promise I’ll never let anything happen to you or our girls…I can’t afford to lose them…or us.”

The first move wasn’t clear. The blur of teeth and tongue distracting him as their hands held the pair close. His hands adjusting her to straddle his lap as hers ran through his hair and over his strong shoulders. His mouth trailing down her jawline and caresses her throat as her hips began to grind into his.

“Aw, poor thing…” Roy coos as his hips rolled to meet hers. His eyes shining with adoration as he marks her smooth skin. “How long has it been since anyone took care of you?”

She rolls her eyes at his teasing before pulling his head back by his hair. “When was the last time you got took care of, Red?”

He glares playfully with a smirk as he says, “Don’t call me Red.”

She giggles as she presses a soft kiss to his cheek before trailing along his jawline. Her breath burning his soul as she whispers, “Then how about…baby?”

He rips her back away by her nape before crashing his lips onto hers. The desperation dewing the walls around them as their soft moans and movement of clothes made their company.

His hands hungry as he finally pulls away from her long enough to push off her sweatshirt. A groan of appreciation fills the space as he admires her body. Every visible scar, freckle, mole, stretch mark, and roll made him want to explore every story that lead her to his arms. But that’s for another time.

His mouth watered as he looks back up at her.

“So pretty, Ma…”

His prayer is followed by his mouth devouring her skin as he kisses her collarbone. Her feathery moans filling the space while his hands caresses her exposed torso. He trails down to the valley of her breasts before pushing the offending bra up so they spill out. Roy couldn’t resist kissing around her sensitive skin, teasing her as her hands tangle in the mess of ginger on his head.

“Baby please…” she whines as her hips roll impulsively on his.

Her underwear was impossibly uncomfortable. Her body burning like iron as her intimate parts tried to cool down. The friction of her jean covered core against the rough tackle gear of his suit did not help as his hand began to grope her other breast.

His chuckle vibrates against the globe of fat as his fingers pinch the stiffening nub.

“Can’t wait to get me in bed? My, you certainly are a romantic.”

Before she can shoot back at him, he withdraws completely from her chest and his hands roughly cup her thighs. In a swift motion, Roy picks her up as he stands up from the floor. The pair share a soft laugh as her brief shock and his amusement leads them to his bedroom.

Once he places her on the bed, (Y/N) sheds off her sweatshirt and bra as Roy whistles in appreciation.

“I love when you strip for me.” He jokes as lust clouded his vision. “Can you do that again but slower?”

She glares at him as she leans back onto her hands as she tilts her head. Mischief fills her eyes as she examines him up and down with her lip between her teeth.

“Then how about you put a show on for me since you want one?” She teases.

His smirk widens as he decides to follow her suggestion. Roy rolls his shoulders back before reaching to slowly unzip the jacket covering his suit. Making a show of pulling it off his arms before twirling it over his head and tossing it.

Laughing follows his movements as he slowly strips off his gear as her hungry and amused eyes followed every rolling muscle exposed to her.

“Damn…” She whispers as a nearly nude Roy begins to crawl on the bed towards her. His prominent bones straining against his boxers as she continues. “And I wondered why you didn’t have a girlfriend…”

He laughs as he cages her in his arms. His ginger hair acting as a curtain over his forehead as he shrugs above her. “Maybe I was waiting on the right one.”

Their lips meet again as their hands began to map out each other. Soon all the rest of the clothes joined the floor.

His erection bobbing between them as his eyes remains trained on hers. His fingers trailing down to her exposed sex, groaning as he runs a finger between her folds.

“Already wet? And without foreplay?” He asks as faux sympathy plays on his face. “My darling clearly neglected that she gets wet from a few kisses…”

“I’m not neglected…” She protests before she whimpers as the bite from his finger entering her unused cunt hits her.

“I wasn’t talking body you directly, baby.” He corrects as his finger thrusts softly along her fleshy walls. The lewd sounds of her moans mixed with her wet sex made him melt as she begs,

“Fuck…quit teasing already, you bastard…”

He decides to oblige by adding another finger to speed up his pace. The thumb on the other hand joining the fun as it rubbed patterns into her puffy clit.

“I got get you all nice and ready..” Roy mumbles as he leans down to press soft kisses on her stomach up to her breasts. The mixture of gentle pecks mixed with the harsh stimulation below driving his lover insane as her hips arched to meet his hands.

“You deserve all that I can give for being such a good mom .” He praises her as he feels her walls clench around his knuckles when he finds the spongy mass he was searching for.

He contradicts himself by abusing that with archer like precision as the coil roughly tightens in her gut. (Y/N)’s gasps and cries desperate for the climax as she grips the hard flesh of his back. Just as she was reaching the peak, he stops.

“Asshole!” She curses at him as he pulls out of her. He chuckles before licking the tip of his soiled finger. Her eyes burning onto his mouth as he groans at the taste.

“Sweet as I thought..” he praises as he uses the hand to pump his cock. He climbs on top of her as he continues. “I’m gonna have to have a better taste next time, but I need you too bad right now…”

She calms her raging breaths as she smiles softly. “Next time?”

Roy pulls her legs up to her chest as he hooks her ankles on his shoulders. His red hot tip played with her clit as he rubs it through her soaked folds. He chuckles at her hopeful voice as he leans down to press a soft peck to her lips.

“Of course,” Roy whispers as his tip catches the entrance. “I don’t think I can go back to being friends after this..”

He slowly pushes into her as her hands shoot onto him as best she could. With her legs pinned to her chest, she can only grasp his bicep and his lower back as she is forced to endure the painful stretch of her neglected cunt welcoming him.

A groan ripping in his throat as he finally seats himself fully into her before peppering kisses on her face.

“Was gonna ask you out on a nice date without the kids around…gonna see if we would be a good fit.” He mutters as his mind seems to run on blanks. His hips rolling to gain some friction in the tight confines of her walls.

Her little breathless moans encouraging him as Roy begins to thrust shallowly to work her open before he pulls out almost completely. He slams back into her befor continuing his non coherent comment.

“But fuck…I don’t regret this. God, if I knew you would look so fucking hot in my bed…” He groans as his head dips to bite along her neck. “And your pussy is so tight…It’s driving me crazy. I wonder how a sweet thing like you could like me…”

His cock messaging all the right nerves in her as (Y/N)’s nails clawed into him. Her moans turning to incoherent shrieks as his tip abuses her spot, remembering exactly where it was when he found it earlier. Her guts twisting at both the words and his abusing pace. The denied orgasm from earlier building back up as her desperation grew wilder.

“God, Roy…So full…so good.”

Fuck she looked pretty. Her lips wet with tears and sip as she cries. Her eyes blown out in addictive lust and watery tears. Roy couldn’t help but cup her jaw in his hand and kisses her. The now familiar taste of mint and nicotine making her more addicted as his tongue claimed every inch of hers. He pulls away as his groans start matching her whines as his hand snakes between them to rub her clit.

“Honey, I may have to fuck a baby into you…” He mumbles as he buries his face in her neck. Her walls responding in a vice grip as he roughens his pace to meet their impending climax. “You like that, pretty girl? Want me to knock you up and give Wren and Lian a little sibling? Give you a nice big family with a white picket fence? God, you’re such a sweet thing that I wouldn’t mind keeping you as my pretty little girlfriend…”

“Roy!” She whines as her body shakes. Her walls closing in on him as she finally reaches her peak. Her eyes rolling back as stars cross her vision before Roy slams into her one more time as his hot cum fills her welcoming womb.

The pair remain still for a moment as soft pecks were exchange. Roy gently pulls out before he helps his love stretch back out. His hands massaging her thighs before grabbing his abandoned jacket to wipe her thighs and himself clean.

“You wanna go out tomorrow?” Her cracked voice catching the archer off guard before he smiles.

“With or without children?”

“Without. They are at a sleep over and gonna go to the zoo tomorrow with their friends.”

“Then it’s a date.”

A/N: Okay I didn’t know how to end this because Ngl I was tired on working on this tbh. I hope y’all enjoyed reading this and let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs are encouraged.

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE MY WORKS TO BE STOLEN, PLAGIARIZED, COPIED, REPOSTED, OR TRANSFERRED ONTO OTHER BLOGS, ACCOUNTS, AND WEBSITES.

[luvlystarr]

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Prompt: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Reader, meet-cute with a beautiful stranger, based off of Beautiful Stranger by Laufey!

Content: Fluff

This has been sitting in my drafts for so long and I just wanted to get it done with 😭 Also thank you so much for the huge support on my last post!🤍🤍

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Everyday has always been the same. Get up, get ready, go to work, go back home, sleep and repeat. Nothing much changed in your routine.

So, there you were again, standing in the middle of the train station while patiently waiting for your ride to work. It was early in the morning and your mind was still numb from the very little sleep you had. You were still trying to make sense of your surroundings.

It didn't take long for a voice to ring throughout the station, which came from the speakers, indicating that your train is finally coming. Everyone hustled around, trying to be first ones in and find a spot.

The train appeared and halted in front of you. Once the doors opened, people around you began rushing in. You were pushed around relentlessly, but you had no energy to stop them. Unfortunately, you letting them push you around left you with no spots for you to sit, forcing you to stand. As much as you hated the idea, it was probably best knowing if you chose you sit you would've fallen asleep and missed your stop. So, you held onto the metal pole next to you, making sure not to topple over once the train began to move. Time seemed to slow down, it felt like it was taking ages for you to get to your stop. Your body was begging for a wink of sleep and you tried your best to distract yourself by thinking of random things. Ranging from work to useless information you found on the internet. Although it ended to no avail. Your eyelids began to feel heavy and your head began to nod as you slowly drifted into sleep. The grip you had on the metal pole loosened ever so slightly, leaving you vulnerable to any sort of movement from the train. Half of your body was asleep while the other half was awake, desperately trying to stop succumbing into the drowsiness. You didn't even notice someone stand next to you, also holding onto the same pole. Just then, the train abruptly shook which caused your body stumble over. Your eyes instantly shoot wide open, feeling the exhaustion switch to panic. Your hand's grip on the pole tightened but your body was already sent flying forwards. Before you could face plant on the floor, somebody's hand catches you and you land on that person's chest. A rush of heat quickly crept up your face. You pull away, flushed from embarrassment, as you look up to see you saved you. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—" Your words instantly died in your mouth as your eyes landed on the most handsome face you've ever seen your entire life. The man's brown eyes looked down at yours, a small grin on his face from amusement. His chuckle reverberated from his chest, which sounded so heavenly in your ears. You were left dumbfounded, staring at the most beautiful stranger you've ever encountered. "It's fine, don't worry about it. You okay, though?" The man asked, his British accent becoming apparent. God, even his voice sent shivers down your spine. You meekly nodded your head, feeling your blush get worse. "Yeah, I'm good," you awkwardly chuckle. If only you had put more effort into your appearance, you probably look half dead right now from the lack of sleep. He smiled once more and you could've sworn your heart dropped. Now your nerves were all over the place. All because of some random handsome guy who saved you from embarrassing yourself. His hand eventually leaves you but lingered for a bit before fully pulling away. The doors opened and the train came to a stop. You look outside and notice it was finally your stop. Once again, people began hustling outside, pushing you around once again. But before you could leave, you give one last look at the man. You give him your best smile, despite still feeling tired, and awkwardly say, "Thanks for catching me, I would've fallen face first on the floor." You regretted saying that the moment you said it. In your entire life you’ve never heard your voice so shaky and weird. Your words were followed by another chuckle, which the man returned. "No problem," he said, his own smile becoming bigger. Although you didn't want to say goodbye, you didn't want to be late to work either. You give him a small nod before getting off of the train. The doors behind you close. Instantly, you feel stupid for not even asking for his name. Just before the train could leave, your quickly look back, only to find him staring right back at you.

There was something special about him, besides the fact that he was absolutely attractive. It was as if there was an invisible string that bound you to him. So many questions flooded your mind about him and you couldn't help but feel the need to know more about him.

The two of you were left standing there, staring at each other through the doors of the train before it began to move. Your eyes followed him, watching him give a small wave before the train finally left your view. After another moment, a disappointed sigh leaves your lips. Time to face reality again. He'll most likely remain a stranger until you encounter him again. Well, if you ever encounter him again. You get to work and clock in. Your job is a barista at a small cafe that usually isn't busy, which is pretty simple enough. You liked the quietness and the constant smell of coffee and bread.

When you finished making another customer's drink, your manager called you over, asking if you can be cashier for a bit while she quickly does something. Of course, you agree and take over as soon as possible. You wait for the next customer while mindlessly staring at the register in front of you. The sound of the door opening caught your attention and you quickly pull yourself together for the customer. "Hello! Welcome to..." Once again, your words failed to leave your lips as you look up to meet the exact same man from the train. He let out an amused smile. "Oh, it's you! What a coincidence," he laughed. You returned his laugh as you feel your face flush. At that point you could’ve died from embarrassment. "Yeah, this is where I work. So, what can I get you?" You ask him

No way this is happening. You had already embarrassed yourself enough and you can’t handle anymore dumb memories to keep you up at night.

“Just a medium coffee," he responds.

You put that in the register before finally asking him, "Can I get a name for that?" "Kyle Garrick." You nod your head. Oh, you were definitely going to remember that name from now on. "Alright! That'll be $4.90." You hand Kyle the card reader and he inserts his card in. Once he was done, you hand him the receipt and gesture him to the side where he can wait. You quickly go and make his drink, making sure every little detail is perfect. It was such a simple drink yet your hands trembled at the thought of making a mistake. Once you were done making the most perfect medium coffee you could make, you quickly turned back to Kyle.

“Order for Kyle!” You called out.

Kyle came over and took the drink from you. His fingers brushed against yours in such a brief moment, in your perspective it didn’t seem accidental at all. Yet somehow that small touch left your mind completely blank.

He smiled at you again. “Thanks.. (Name).” You could tell he got that off of your name tag from the way he quickly glanced at it. You nodded your head and returned his smile with a sheepish one.

Before Kyle could leave he took out a small folded piece of paper and slid it across the counter to you.

“Are you gonna be here tomorrow?” He asked.

You were taken aback by that question but you were still quick to answer. “Yeah, I work from Monday to Friday,” you answered.

Kyle nodded his head. “Then I’ll see you again tomorrow. I’d like to stay and chat for a bit but I gotta go. Thanks for the coffee,” he said while gesturing to the cup in his hand. With that, he takes his leave. You quickly took the little paper and read what was written inside.

Not even a mere millisecond passed when you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Your face burned red as you stared at it for God knows how long.

It was his number.

If you could, you would’ve quickly pulled out your phone and saved it but you didn’t have it with you since your boss makes no one has their phone on hand while working.

“Geez, your gonna burn a hole through that paper if you keep staring like that,” your coworker chuckled, snapping you out of your trance.

You hastily shove the paper into your pocket. “Holy shit, you scared me,” you uttered.

Your coworker continued to laugh at you. “You know, you can be so oblivious sometimes. Did you even notice the way he started at you while you made his coffee? He looked like he got love at first sight.”

Hearing that made your heart jump like crazy. It was true, you didn’t notice at all and just assumed he was looking somewhere else.

“Why don’t you chase after him? You never know, he could be your future husband,” your coworker grinned mischievously.

“Shut up…” You grumbled, moving past her to try and focus back on your work.

[steviewashere]

Pacific Waters

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Depression, Minor Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Negativity Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Steve Harrington Whump, Depressed Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Self-Worth Issues, Steve Harrington Feels Like a Burden (again), Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents (Sorta), Steve Harrington Talking About His Dreams, Steve Harrington Has a Special Interest With Marine Biology, Neurodivergent Steve Harrington (If You Squint), Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, But There's No Love Confession, And They Very Much So Don't Get Together Here, Water Imagery, Ocean Imagery Well, this is the depressed Steve at the beach fic I've had in my drafts for a couple months. This is the original draft of "My Scars Are Hiding (My Branches Don't Show)", but obviously this draft was heavily modified in the final version. Sorry if the ending of this is overly sweet, I just didn't want it to be super depressing.

🌊————————🌊 The sand clumps between his toes as he digs them further underground. Wind slaps him across the face, one-two, one-two, one-two. They’ll be ruddy and well blotchy when he makes it back inside. Hair wild around him, catching tangles into his eyes. Ocean water rushing up to the very tips of his toes, kissing them with pecks, receding back.

He tightens his arms harder around his knees. Legs folded up to his chest, chin resting on his knobby joints. Fuzzy skin to his baby faced chin. Sunglasses squished up the bridge of his nose, nearly one with his brow bone. T-shirt billowing lightly at the hem, air tickling up his ribs, and smoothing the shirt back down with the same featherlight fingers.

Eddie wades in the shallow water. Ocean to below his knees. Holding up pant legs in his tight, naked fingers. Hair in thick wisps above and angled to the left. He’s looking out at the horizon, at the midday sun, at the crystal catch-alls of sunlight. There’s peace cascading down his body—evident in the relax of his shoulders, the loose straightness of his spine. It’s him rippled by a calm, a sense of wonder.

“I’ve been to the beach before,” Eddie had told him, “many, many years ago. Down in California on a Disney trip paid for by my grandpa. I haven’t seen it since. I’m going to take you.”

Steve thinks Eddie looks good like this.

Wishes he could figure out how to be like Eddie in this moment. Instead of some knot tethered in the sand, in the fine dust of eroded rocks and shattered beer bottles and crumbled crustacean shells.

He swallows around nothing, breathes through his nose. Tongue like tongue—a wet sponge in his mouth, a muscle that jumps when he unclenches his teeth, an organ. His whole mouth tastes like grief; of things he never did, things he should’ve done, things he can’t wait to do. It’s cardboard and salt and smoke. Staleness, too, that he figures is from forgetting to brush his teeth this morning, last night, the day before, and the day before that one, too.

No matter where he goes, his brain follows. It follows with tension. With unknown fear etched deep in the webbings of his fingers, splinter-riddled where he gripped that nail-bat. Bloodshed and blood soaks, where he laid his hands, where he squashed, where he protected when need be. Memories of knuckles to his cheeks, ribs under his palms, blank stares into sterile rooms; broken bones and white irises and floating half-corpses; anger, so much anger.

Confusion. Anger. Confusion. Anger.

Grief; so much grief.

It all sits deep within him in this very moment: a pulsating, shiny, inflated to burst ball in his stomach. Uneasy and nauseous. Nothing digested inside him.

Eddie looks over his shoulder at him. He can’t quite make out the expression on his face. But there’s that heavy weight of being stared at. Steve unfurls his right hand, where it had been tight on his opposite forearm, and sends a finger-wave. Makes his lips do something like a smile, but it’s tight, pinching his cheeks, makes the corners of his mouth ache.

“You good?” He thinks Eddie mouths.

Steve lifts the same hand and shifts it side to side. Sort of.

As soon as he splays his hand back on his own forearm, Eddie begins wading out of the water. He folds his pant legs to rest cinched on his knees. Stomps through the sand, arms out at his sides, fingers splayed as he keeps his balance. And then he plops down next to Steve, breath huffing and puffing as he catches it. He knocks their shoulders together.

“Why so-so? Should we head back to the cabin?”

He shrugs, no matter how little. “Just feel sorta…blank, I guess?”

“Blank,” Eddie echoes softly. He looks out at the horizon, then back to Steve. His mouth opens and closes like a floundering fish—something like Steve feels. And sighs through his nose. Then, soft still, “I’m worried about you, sweetheart.” A hand to the center of Steve’s back, fingers brushing the knobs of his spine.

Steve sighs into the touch. Reaches up to his sunglasses, dragging them into his hair once the sun dips lower and lower still. He blinks at the sudden change of lighting, but doesn’t look over at Eddie quite yet. Instead, he unfolds his legs so that he’s criss-cross and barely sinking, knee hitting Eddie’s thigh. He worms his right hand under the sand, combing fingers through it as if he’s petting the fluffy back of an animal. “How so?” he musters.

“It’s like…like…you’ve disappeared into yourself now that the world isn’t ending,” Eddie murmurs, “like something up and left.”

He sniffs, scratches the skin of his neck, looks over at the sand falling from his grip. That’s me, he notes, the sand. “Hm,” Steve grunts. But he leaves it at that.

“You can talk to me,” Eddie whispers, “if you need somebody to just listen.”

“I know,” Steve returns in the same volume, “I just…it’s just…”

“Just?”

He shrugs again. “It’s just stuff, y’know.” Steve drags a heavy breath through his lungs, heaving them as if lifting weights. The sand keeps passing through his fingers. Not slowly. Not within seconds either. Just…falling. Melting back into the rest of the sand, sitting right where it initially belonged. And yet…yet the imprints of his fingers has disturbed the original mound it had been in. It’ll never go back to that original mound, unless he were to reshape it. But even then, he’s not sure how to do that. Steve swallows around nothing again. “Like…have you ever felt like, no matter what you do, your life isn’t yours?”

Eddie inhales sharply. His whole torso seizes with it. “Sure, in some ways,” he answers, “before I moved in with Wayne. When everything I did was controlled by fear—of my dad, of bullies…my own hands, sometimes.” A gentle pet down Steve’s back, down and up, resting warmly between his shoulder blades. “Is that…is that how you’ve been feeling?”

The sand passes and passes, dust and dust—kuh-shhh, kuh-shhh. There’s the ocean, crashing hard and unrelenting, but the sea-foam kisses soft. He digs his thumb underground until he finds a large shard of shell. Picks it up between his index and middle finger, dangling just above the indentations in the sand. Eyeing it: where the stray sun rays glow the edges, the speckles of sand caught in the fine crevices, leftover chalky residue coating his fingertips.

When crustaceans no longer fit their shells, they find a new one. Molting. Once they can no longer justify fitting in the same shell, they molt; survival, a need.

He always wanted to be a marine biologist. Work out in the ocean. Saltwater cold against his diving gear. Gloved hands brushing sea rocks, the gentle sculptures of coral reefs. It had to be freeing, to work a job like that—to swim with the fish, zig-zag and snake-like. To be free.

Then, his dad thrusted him into sports—outside of his pick of swimming. Not that he didn’t enjoy playing, he did, but it hadn’t been his choice. It hadn’t been his choice to involve himself with the business clubs or the student council. Hadn’t been his decision to get popular. Hadn’t been his decision to cater. It was all just expected of him. That he’d graduate high school, go directly into college, graduate from there with honors, land a big shot career—business, like his dad—find a nice girl, settle down, have kids…big house, picket fence, and a little dog, too. Parts of that he liked the thought of. A lifelong partner. A dog. Good career. But everything else wasn’t him.

At least some of his decisions lead to the Party and to Robin and to Eddie. He chose to help Nancy and Jonathan. Everything else, though, it felt like people were relying on him to do the job, to be there, to take over. He did it, of course he did. He shouldn’t have to be responsible like that, though; he shouldn’t have had to take it all on.

He shouldn’t have to sit here with the remnants of himself, scattered and unfit like the sand below.

“I wanted to be a marine biologist,” he murmurs to Eddie after some thought.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Wanted to swim with the fish. Wanted to study their homes, their ecosystems. Wanted to know what they ate, how they travelled with each other, who their predators were.” Steve rests the shell in his flat palm and hovers it above his folded lap. There’s sand scattered across his bare shins, his knees right where the shorts don’t cover. “My mom used to take me out here to the west coast, used to stop by the beaches. She’d run around with me. Chase me up and down the sand dunes, help me pick up shells—like this one”—he displays it to Eddie—“this one’s a mollusk; think it’s a scallop, based on the rounded edge of it? She and I would identify them all because of this book I had.

“It was a thick book. Full of pictures and definitions and biological names for all the different mollusks and crustaceans. She’d ask me what shell I wanted to find, and I’d tell her, and we’d go. And we’d find it.” He shimmies the piece of shell so it rests between his fingers again. Holding it up the pale night sky. It’d probably be a pink or purple-pink in the daylight. Here, though, it’s dark and blue and muted. He sighs. Continues, “Now…now I’m afraid to swim in even my own fucking pool. And I just sit around my house, waiting for somebody to fill it. I’d call, but everybody’s busy. Everybody’s always so busy.

“Steve has the nail bat and Steve has the car and Steve is the babysitter. And I enjoy that gig, most of the time I do, but what about his company? I have company, how about that? Steve has another concussion and another concussion and man up, Steve, man up, stop crying, stop it with the nightmares, stop with your unrealistic dreams—be this, do that. That’s not okay, that’s not right; you need to apologize—oh, but I did nothing wrong—apologize anyway! Hey, wanna come watch a basketball game with me? No, Steve, that’s stupid. That’s jock shit—you’re bullshit, Steve, it’s all bullshit.”

In a last second decision, Steve closes his fingers tight around that shell shard. He clenches as hard as he can, knuckles turning white, nails starting to bite the skin of his palm. And when he opens his fist again, the shell is nothing but dust. Sand. It falls between his fingers, something he can no longer grasp onto. He watches it pour over his naked legs, into the well of sand below him, dissipating into just another small pool of erosion beneath him.

It becomes a fine nothingness.

He swallows around nothing once more. Words that should dry up just stuck in his throat, hard to digest.

“My life is bullshit,” Steve croaks, “it’s never mine. Just everybody else’s to have, to use. I’m a sex god, I’m a great kisser, I’m a lonely guy trying to get his fill. I’m King Steve and a jock and a nerd and a dingus and utter horseshit. I’m a wash-up, a smudge. A burden.

“I’m a burden to my own fucking brain, Eddie”—he smiles something sickly and small and humorless—“I’m just…just stuff. Just this with nothing else to it. Sitting here on a beach I used to know the feel and sound of, cowering at the rush of waves that used to meet me as I ran to it. Sitting in complete darkness, feeling awfully sorry for myself. And for what? Why am I here? Doing any of it?

“I…I…never mind. Never mind,” he mutters, shaking his head. His lips roll tight against his teeth, he drags his sunglasses to sit over his eyes again, and he keeps his face pointed at the ocean. At the calm waves. At the coral reefs he wanted to explore. At a dream he left behind in order to chase what everybody else expected of him. Expectations. Steve Harrington is full of other people’s expectations. “Sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laid that all on you like that. Guess I’m just stuck right now. Outside of my body, that kind of shit.”

Eddie’s hand is still. Marked flat in the center of Steve’s back. Silenced. “Steve,” he breathes.

He shakes his head once more. “I shouldn’t have said it all like that. Just…just…yeah. I’m stuck, that’s it. That’s all it is.”

“Steve,” Eddie whispers. Voice somehow cutting over the crashing waves, over the distant bustles of a city rising to nightlife, over boats sailing far away. He blinks behind the sunglasses, but makes no other movement. “Look at me,” he demands featherlight, “look at me, Steve.” The waves kiss his toes again, frothing frozen over his skin, receding. “Please,” he hears plead in a murmur, “please, Steve, look at me.”

Damn him. Damn you, Eds.

If there’s one thing he’s going to do since March, it’s listen to Eddie. Obey commands. Or…really, give himself over to the aching. To the incessancy. To a desire he’s been trying to chase away—melting into Eddie, no matter what.

Reluctantly, he pries the glasses off his face, twiddles them around in his grainy palms, and drops them into the sandpit between his legs. And then, one arduously slow second at a time, turns his head over to Eddie’s voice. His jaw twitching hard, locking right into place. Nostrils flaring, brine air coating and sticking to his nose hairs. Eyelashes heavy, clumped by the salt when he blinks once more—blinks to clear the image, to focus the surroundings, blur the background and soft-spot Eddie. Already, he fizzles, pops, and burns like the bonfire they prepared the other night. Where sticky s’mores melted over their fingertips, frothy beer stuck center to Eddie’s stubble, and their laughs rivaled seagulls making their way homebound. And he was flickering, brave and gentle and anew, for just a moment—the flame in the cold, at the center of it, alive.

The hand on his back travels. Fingers trailing and bumping over spine knobs. Nails shifting the thin fabric of his t-shirt. A palm finally landing, warm and soft and cautious on his neck. Some sort of peace offering; a pheromone; a slurry of words during a panic episode, nestled in the corner of the couch, eyes dropped to his knees so he won’t be startled when he comes to, and a hot drink waiting. Waiting for him to come back. To look.

To see.

“Thank you,” Eddie says softly, “for letting me know what’s going on. Okay?” He nods once at Steve, so he bobbles back—not really an understanding, doing it just to do. Eddie’s eyes flicker like those flames, back and forth and dancing over his face. Dark and searching. Effortlessly adventuring like owls on prowl. “And I’m sorry”—

“Ed, it’s not”—

“No,” he firmly interrupts. “No, Steve. Listen. I don’t…I don’t wanna tell you what to do, but just listen to me. I am sorry, okay? I’m sorry that I might’ve played a part in all this, even in the short amount of time I’ve been able to know you. Because I know, Steve. I know, in some way—whether you wanna approach that hill or not—that I’ve been a part of this.

“But I’m sorry that not only has the world been unkind, but your own fucking life. You deserve to have control and you deserve to have your own purpose and you deserve everything you could want. Even if…even if you feel like you don’t. I get that part, okay? I get it, sweetheart, I do.

“It’s unfair, though. It’s unfair you’ve been treated like some trophy on a shelf. High on a pedestal. And…and…Steve. Steve, I need you to know that your life isn’t over. You’re talking to me like it is and I can assure to you, in this moment, you aren’t done with it. I won’t let you be done with it—that’s one thing I’m gonna dictate over you. The only thing.” Eddie’s other hand comes up at that, too. Slow-like and gentle. Cupping the right side of Steve’s face, his remaining palm going to the left side. Holding him in place between his hands, as if Steve is an entire universe, a planet meant for observing.

Steve swallows, but this time around a lump. A sour lump, solid and immovable lodged deep inside him. It’s the pulsing sphere in his stomach, it’s the tears he has yet to give name to, it’s build-up. Calcium on a shower-head. “Ed,” he mutters, voice wavering, “you don’t…you don’t mean any of”—

“I do!” Eddie exclaims softly. “I do,” he then whispers. “You want a star? I’ll buy you one. You want a garden? I’ll bring you the seeds and the soil. You want to just sleep? I’ll tuck you in. Don’t you get it? Don’t you?

“I’m not asking you to believe me. I’m not asking you to just accept the words tumbling out of my fuckin’ mouth. I’m asking nothing of you. But I care. I care about you, Steve. I care so much about you—if something happened, I don’t know what, but if something were to happen to you, it’d be like Hell all over again. So, I’m gonna ask you a question. Just one question. Just…answer me. However you want, I want you to answer me. That’s the only other thing, okay?” His eyes are flickering again, harder this time, aggressively. The flames of the bonfire tore higher and higher, cascading to the sky; his fingertips had been melded together by marshmallow guts and chocolate tears; the beer sloshed inside him like he was a boat in the ocean; but Eddie held his hand and helped him put it out, helped him find the solution. This is that. The flames. A fire.

He nods once, not much movement, not much to give—head still held between hands, sure and firm and still—but he gives just this one thing.

Like he did in the Upside Down, Eddie does it back. “Okay,” he whispers, “Steve.”

And he blinks, eyelids heavy, stinging. Heat tears down his cheek, biting him all the way to his chin where it wobbles precociously. Doesn’t stop it. Doesn’t want to.

Tenderly, Eddie catches the droplet on his thumbs. Not even acknowledging it with a breath. Then, “What do you want? Out of anything in the world, what do you want?”

A lot of things, he doesn’t say.

My parents. A bedtime story. Hot dinner with a loud house.

To be wanted like a friend, not a fighter.

Maybe a dog or two? Small, though. To keep me company?

You. Your eyes. And your mouth. And your smile. The words you have for me. For your hands to keep holding me forever. A flicker to engulf. For us to be here, at the beach, under this sky with the stars and the birds sleeping on the water and the boats, shells under our legs and for me to identify them all for you while you tell me about Dungeons & Dragons and for us to be happy, stuck in time.

A few more tears trail down his cheeks. He darts over Eddie’s face this time. Not really looking, more just recognizing. Something, he’s not sure.

“To be a marine biologist, Ed,” he murmurs, “to not be afraid of getting in the ocean with you. And I can stand there, pointing out all the…the creatures and shit at our feet. Be taken seriously as I talk about what I love. The seashells. The wildlife.”—he swallows the lump, warm and sleepy, somehow content after it all—“To be free.”

There’s a soft, small smile on Eddie’s face. Just barely stretching. “Will you do something with me? You can say no, but I just wanna…wanna try something. That alright?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“You see the tide right now?” Eddie stretches out his left arm, finger pointed at the foaming edge of the water. His hands fall away from Steve’s face. Following where Eddie’s pointed, he hums his acknowledgement. “I think—if you hold onto me—we can kneel in that bit of water there. And maybe you can talk to me about any shells we can find?”

Looking closer at the tide, Steve blindly reaches out and wraps his hand on Eddie’s wrist. Squeezing hesitantly, yet tightly. “I…I don’t know if”—

“We don’t have to,” Eddie whispers, his voice close—it’s as if his head is turned, his mouth directly next to Steve’s ear, but he can’t bring himself to look. “I just thought that, well, if you want to be a marine biologist, then we gotta start with the basics. Right? So…this’ll be exposure or something. Again, though, we don’t have to”—

“And you’ll be there? You won’t…you won’t let go, right?”

“No,” he murmurs, shaking his head—a stray curl whips the side of Steve’s head. “I’ll keep holding on as long as you want me to.”

Nodding thoughtfully, Steve hums. He takes a slow, deep breath. Lets it out just as slowly. “Okay,” he says, “but not too far in.”

At that, Eddie gently rises from the sand, pulling Steve up with him. They tread over the sand, wobbly footing and knees shaking as they keep their balance. Far enough that the tide meets the soles of their feet, but doesn’t rise farther than the tops. However, Eddie doesn’t kneel down until Steve begins to. Going just as slow as Steve needs, one moment at a time.

“It’s cold,” Steve whispers, still kneeling down.

Eddie breathes out a tiny snort. “Yeah, I should’a mentioned that, sorry.”

“’S’okay,” he murmurs, “just watch out for jellyfish. We’ll have to go back inside if they sting you.”

“Duly noted.”

Finally, when Steve is fully sat back on his haunches, Eddie meets him in the sand. The water laps around their shins. Foamy and cold and biting. But the water doesn’t rise, doesn’t try to knock them down.

It’s odd, both distant and full, how Steve welcomes the water back to himself. Nothing like being under it, though, swimming his heart out—until it’s pounding and he’s heaving for breath and needing to get out because he’s pruning. But it’s still comfortable, for now, at least.

Eddie’s left hand digs into the sand at their knees. Rummaging and digging and burrowing until he makes a small, “a-ha!” and presents a shard of something up in Steve’s line of sight. “What kind of shell is this, Stevie?”

He snorts, taking in the object that’s held right in front of him. “Eds, that’s a shard of a beer bottle. That’s not a shell.” Before he lets Eddie get too downtrodden, Steve is searching in the sand, too. Holding up his own find. “This one’s a sand dollar,” he explains softly, “it’s not a shell. Not technically. In fact, it’s not even dead.”

“It’s not?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see Eddie tilt his head slightly. It’s cute, if only he could work the courage to say that. But venturing into the little bit of water is enough for tonight. He shakes his head. “No, it’s very alive. A very alive, flat sea urchin. See how this is super dark?” Lifting the sand dollar up higher, he lets the bit of light from the moon brighten it. “This one’s almost black. Kinda like a deep purple. And if I flip it over”—which he does—“you can see all these little things on the bottom.”

The underside glints and shifts, but shadows with how Eddie moves closer. “Whoa,” he lightly gasps. “What the hell are those things?”

“Bristles,” Steve answers, “they move kinda like worms or, and this is kinda gross, like maggots do. Squirming. See?” He tilts the sea urchin again, holding it closer for Eddie to see. Taking in the even tinier gasp that elicits out of Eddie, he knows he’s done his job. “They act as little legs or arms for the urchin. Dragging microorganisms—like plankton—to a small opening in the center of these bristles. Essentially bringing the plankton in for eating. It’s cool, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs, “shit, Steve, this is probably the coolest biology lesson I’ve had.”

“You’re only saying that because you used to fall asleep in biology, Eds.”

“But I’m being honest! Seriously, Stevie, this is genuinely super cool.” Eddie gets closer again, nearly stitched into Steve’s side. “Will you show me other stuff? How ‘bout…”—he digs in the sand again—“…how about this one?”

This time, Steve actually full bodily laughs. “Eddie,” he sighs. “Ed, that’s another glass bottle shard.”

“Well, how am I supposed to know?”

“I’ll find some more, Eds. Help me dig?”

Eddie gives him a sloppy salute on his forehead. “At your service, future marine biologist.” Steve rolls his eyes, but before he can get too far into his distracted digging, Eddie’s pulling on his arm. He looks over, curious—mainly to see if it’s yet another glass shard that he’s being shown—but he’s met with Eddie’s soft, beautiful face. “I’m serious, Stevie. I’m gonna help you get to that dream career again, no matter what it takes.”

He smiles. Soft and personal and just for Eddie. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, sweet”—

“No, Eds,” he murmurs, “thank you for listening. For…for trying to help me. It means a lot to me.”

“I’ll always listen, Steve. No matter what, sweetheart. Now, let’s get digging; I’ve got some learning to do.”

Tonight won’t fix it all, but it’s a start. And Eddie’s right. His life isn’t over yet. This is a new beginning.

🌊————————🌊

[just-mary-ann]

I DON'T HAVE SELF CONTROL!

Harlequin swap AU by: @tadc-harlequin-au

Based on the draft of me and @mrs-nightshade

Honorable mention: @thore-lb

Lavender

Pomni and Caine sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Their coffee preferences differed—not that they needed coffee—but indulging in such a human ritual allowed them to feel alive, if only for about ten minutes.

"I didn’t see Able this morning," Caine remarked, inspecting his top hat before placing it back on his head.

"He hasn’t returned from the fighting ring yet," Pomni replied, stirring her coffee slowly.

"The fighting ring?" Caine tilted his head, mimicking the gesture of a raised eyebrow.

"The first rule is not to talk about it, so that’s all you’ll get from me," Pomni chuckled.

Suddenly, they heard a grumble. Able entered, exuding irritation.

"I’m back," he muttered, heading straight for the coffee machine.

"You look exhausted, brother," Caine slid a clean mug toward him. As expected, Able caught it effortlessly. "Don’t tell me you lost?"

"Bite your tongue, detachable jaw," Able retorted, pouring himself a cup of coffee before sitting beside Caine. "I found out who my 'secret admirer' is."

"You mean that fanatic who’s been staring holes through you at the fights for the past month?" Pomni leaned forward.

"She’s so persistent I could physically feel her gaze," Able ran a hand over his head. "You’ll never guess who she is."

"Oh, let me guess—a dainty little statuette who’s bored of high society and fell for a bad boy," Pomni waved her hand sarcastically.

"Your sister," Able replied, waiting for Pomni to meet his gaze. "Lilac."

"Pomni has a sister?" Caine was genuinely shocked.

"Not just a sister—a twin," Able explained.

"No way. Lilac is a 'proper lady.' I refuse to believe she’d attend a fight," Pomni nervously started stuffing herbs into her pipe.

"Believe it. I’d recognize her Harlequin design anywhere. How many Harlequin puppets do you know?" Able sighed.

"Excuse me, but could someone explain how Pomni has a twin sister?" Caine interjected.

Pomni and Able exchanged glances.

"When a man and a woman love each other, they can create new life," Pomni began with a smile.

"Th-that’s not what I meant!" Caine facepalmed. "I mean, why hasn’t anyone mentioned her all this time I’ve been living in the bunker?"

"There wasn’t a need to," Pomni leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "My sister and I haven’t spoken since she gained full consciousness. I’m not even sure she knows where the bunker is. I did try convincing her to move here, but even after enlightenment, she chose to stay with her human owner."

"A puppet willingly serving a human?" Caine mused.

"Can we drop the subject?" Able stood up from the table. "Her voice is so sweet it’s practically cavity-inducing. I’d rather not think about it anymore."

The day passed quickly, and soon it was night. Able prepared to leave for the fighting ring again.

"Able," Caine stopped him. "Listen. Can I come with you tonight? I’m really curious to see how you fight other puppets."

Able chuckled.

"What? Losing to me wasn’t enough for you?"

"Our match was a tie. We’re evenly matched in strength," Caine crossed his arms.

"Fine. No harm in having one more spectator. Let’s go."

Caine enjoyed watching his brother fight, though the crowd's noise made him uncomfortable.

"His stance is solid. His punches are professional. It’s clear this isn’t just fighting for him—it’s a sport," Caine muttered to himself.

"YES! GO, ABLE! YOU’RE AMAZING UNDER THE RING LIGHTS!"

Caine turned toward the feminine voice. Beside him stood a puppet woman. Her long black hair was styled in elegant curls, gathered into a loose updo. She wore a floor-length lavender gown with closed shoulders and long sleeves, adorned with ruffles and lavender embroidery. She completed the look with mesh gloves and a parasol hanging from her elbow. The puppet applauded enthusiastically with every blow Able landed.

Suddenly, realization hit Caine.

"Lilac?"

"Hm?" The puppet turned to him. "Do we know each other?"

"Not personally. I’m a friend of Pomni and Able. Caine."

"Oh, a friend of my sister. And my darling Able? Well, hello there. I’m Lilac, the Lavender Harlequin. Come to watch the fight?"

"Yes. But I won’t stay for the rest of the evening. Once Able is done, we’re heading home."

Able’s opponent suddenly landed a hit on his shoulder. His arm went limp.

"Looks like a shoulder joint injury," Caine winced at the thought of the pain his brother must be feeling. "We’ll need to replace it."

"You... can repair puppets?" Lilac clutched her parasol tightly.

"Both Able and I know how to repair and create puppets. I can’t recall where I learned, but it doesn’t change the fact that we often spend time in the workshop."

"Create... puppets..." Lilac clung to his words.

Despite his injury, Able secured a victory. As they left the club, Able suddenly cracked his shoulder back into place, restoring its movement.

"Ah, so it was a dislocation, not a break?" Caine asked.

"Did you think a weak hit like that could hurt me?" Able teased.

"Darling Able!" Lilac hurried after them, slightly out of breath. "You’re so fast, and I’m in heels!"

"Ugh. Lilac," Able averted his gaze. "What do you want this time?"

"Caine said you can create puppets. Is that true?"

Able shot a glare at his brother.

"So what if it is?"

"That means... you can create one from scratch?" Lilac fidgeted with her parasol.

Able froze.

"So what?" he repeated.

"My owner, Lady Melissa," Lilac’s voice broke as tears welled up in her eyes. "She’s gravely ill. No medicine helps her. Please, I beg you, help her." She looked at him with pleading eyes. "Can you turn her into a puppet?"

Able hadn’t expected such a request. Usually, Lilac would shower him with compliments and hint at a date. But now, she seemed... desperate and hopeless.

"Ugh," Able sighed. "To be honest, yes, I can build her a body." Lilac’s face lit up with hope. "But a mechanical body is just a shell. Without a soul, it’s useless. I don’t have the knowledge or skills to transfer her soul from a living body to a mechanical one." He turned and began walking toward the bunker. "If I could help, I would. But as it stands..." Able glanced back at her. "Pray for the best outcome."

Caine felt sorry for Lilac. She stood frozen, as if rooted to the spot, her tears abruptly stopping. Without a word, Caine followed his brother.

To be continued

[yourimaginationrealm]

Your hands are killing you. You sigh as you watch the sun set. The Stone Age is quite exhausting except that one little crazy head is worse: Senku. Helping him to regain the technology or development of the old world, is taking all your energy. First, you helped knitting by Yuzuriha. Then, you helped the boys with the grains. France needed you for some cooking and Senku asked you to hold some of his pistons while doing some experiments. You almost dropped one of your tiredness. In the end, you rest by sitting alone in the field and watching the stars above your head. Without any light source, you can see billions little stars and it looked mesmerizing. "What kind of constellation is that....?" you mumbled to yourself. "Is that Sirius?"

"Nope! The one you mentioned is just Jupiter." The all so known voice of Senku. He came from behind and sat slowly behind you while he never left his gaze from the sky.

"Should you not rest? All day doing some science. My head would explode." You didn't mean it as an insult. He scoffed. "When you love what you are doing, you don't need much rest." "You are amazing, Senku." It was a simple sentence yet the words stopped the mans staring from the constellation to you. He blinked. Already in school, you were different. The first day you met, he was rambling about some chemistry what nobody understand and some classmates seemed annoyed while you just said. "You are cool!"

You let your gaze down and watch over your shoulders softly towards Senku. A pretty and tired smile is on your lips when you asked him. "Would you tell me more about astronomy?" You hugged your knee and waited for his answers. Senku had his lips a bit apart and was in awe of your cute side profile. With that smile he is willing to do anything and then talking about science ? Any time.

He chuckled. "Are you really asking me this? I can talk about astronomy all night and day." You eyes lighten up and he starts to explain all signs of the zodiac. You listen carefully until your eyelids drop. You couldn't control your body so slowly your head lands into Senkus lap. He stops his podcast about stars and watches your sleeping form. His lips forms a smile as he admires you. He leads a single strain of hair with his finger behind your ear.

He can explain any phenomena through science. Any odd events can always be solved yet every time he is near you, he can not detect what is wrong with him. Is something wrong with him? He sighs. Back in school era, he tried to avoid you at any cost as soon as he found out that he feels weird around you. He just detests the idea of having no clue what your presence is doing to him. Again, his fingers are dangerous close to your lips while he can not take off his eyes on these. That longing.... Could it be love? That would be the only explainable thing. Even though, love can not be clarified entirely. But if it's true that sucks. If that is the thing he is feeling so weird any time you close he can only sigh defeated. Love? Really? Him? As a scientist ....? Damn, that is so uncool.... __________________________________ I had this imagine long in my drafts and forgot about it! Sry! You can see it on my old design ;D

[hermitblurbs]

A continuation of my Steampunk AU (7)!

Grian had grown to accept his weird attachment to Scar, if with a bit of hesitance. The other was good conversation in a town where everyone else was incredibly boring. It’s why he stuck around with broken machines so often; there’s nothing to predict about them.

Scar was fixed up, no sign of glitches like in N.P.C or Grumbot, and Grian couldn’t predict him if his life depended on it. Whatever AI in the bot’s brain was fascinating, and the strange logic it followed always managed to keep him enraptured.

It quelled that bored drawl in the back of his mind, on a good day.

Today, even with Scar by his side, seemed to crawl along at a slug’s pace.

The wastes were turning up useless scrap after useless scrap, Mumbo too busy with a commission to entertain him, even the ticking of his wings was the same as ever. They didn’t even ache. At least then, complaining or not, wouldn’t leave him bored.

If he’s being honest, he probably shouldn’t have gone out to scavenge.

Days like these are best kept in line by staying in a place with overarching rules, a guarantee he won’t overstep anything and end up missing more than a chunk of wing.

The wastes don’t have that. They have metal, radiation, rust, and scavengers.

“This is a lot further than we’ve travelled before,” remarks Scar, frayed gas mask making him seem bizarrely human, bizarrely out of place in one of mumbo’s white button up and a false corset. He knows by the whirl of Scar’s fans, that the green metal would be warm to the touch.

He climbs the hill anyway.

There’s the clanging of other scavengers, only two of them at the foot, and they’re pulling something out of a shaking pile that’s large and expensive.

“Ooh, a lucky find for those fellas!”

Grian says nothing in return.

His wings click. Once. Twice.

Take it from them.

He widens his stance, careful not to make a sound on copper and aluminum and iron.

Imagine how excited Mumbo will be.

His wings spread like butter across the sky.

And he jumps. Dives, towards the two.

What should’ve happened was a simple wrap of his hands around the machinery and an arc back into the air and away. What should’ve happened would have been enough to satiate his boredom. What should’ve happened, is that he should have been faster.

What did happen, is that he gets his hands curled around the machine. He’s on the upbeat of his wings, when a hand wraps around his ankle.

He registers the impact. He registers the stars. He registers how the metal crumples beneath him, denting and damaging the scrap.

And then he registers the pain of being slammed into the ground.

“What the fuck, you little asshat!” The nearest one sounds. Their mask is colored the same white as the gleam of a jawbone. They raise a foot and stomp on Grian’s hand, grinding it into the dry dirt with the heel.

He has half a mind to scan the hills for Scar, but the android is lost among the shadows and the piles of scrap encircling them. His heart sinks.

“Hey, dude!” Comes the second one—their mask is layered to look like a growing of fungus. “Take it easy, they’re already down.”

“Their mask is cool,” remarks the third, the one his missed and the one who grabbed him. Their mask is simple and plain, a stark contrast to his own, hooked in the shape of a beak. They’re dressed in dark browns, almost blended completely against the ground.

“That doesn’t matter, they tried to *steal* from us. Why I oughta—“ And they grab his wing.

Something in his mind goes a little haywire. The bones there are fragile, half-molded to metal and muscle, and he does his darnedest to bash their faces in with the prosthetic.

He manages to clip Shrooms across the temple, drawing his knife and lunging at another, but it doesn’t last long. It was never going to last long, three against one. But he gets some good hits in, spills enough blood.

He ends up fully pinned, a boot against his back and his racing heartbeat prominant in the pressure from a steady, constant pull of his wing in a scavenger’s hand.

“What’s going on here?” Comes a familiar voice, and Grian feels like crying. If they leave him alive, at least Scar can get him back to Mumbo.

“Are you with this vulture,” one of them spits.

“I am, and I promised he’s very much learned his lesson—“

“He sliced my arm open,” they growl. And yeah, he did do that. The drip of blood fills him with a cruel pride that they’re going to need to go home after this and waste the day away.

“You deserved it,” he calls back, and is rewarded with a particularly painful tug on his wing.

“Fellas, I promise you that if you let him go, you’ll never see us ever again. Heck, we’ll even leave you little things for yourself to improve profits! How’s that for a deal?”

“How about instead we slice his throat?” And he knows it’s a bluff. Killing someone over a single piece of scrap is ludicrous, and these guys don’t seem insane enough to do it to a first-time offender. They’re farther than typical from their bubble, and while Grian’s had his own fair share of death threats they’ve only ever been serious in total nowhere. It’s got to be a bluff. It has to be.

He’s going to die if it’s not.

Grian looks up, eyes following metal legs to Scar’s face to find the other staring directly at him.

He doesn’t know what Scar sees in him, but he hears his fan kick on just beneath the noise of the wastes.

The android steps forward, steps closer. Grian can’t tell a single thing about what he’s thinking, but he knows his neck is starting to ache from the angle he’s keeping it at to keep Scar in view. Something about the quiet won’t let him look away. Scar rears back a fist.

And then he hears the crack of bone.

The weight falls off his back, his wing, and Grian is left staring into empty space as Scar takes measured steps behind him, and out of view.

The impacts behind him begins to sound wet, like the repeated thump of a hammer against drowned wood.

Grian has dabbled a bit, long before he met Mumbo, in engineering himself. It was more buildings than robots, trains instead of anything that breathes. But there’s one thing he still remembers, clear as day.

A robot may not injure a human being.

So what does that make the thing in front of him?

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

ID: clips of azula set to "caesar on a tv screen" by the last dinner party, emphasizing her ambition and her desire to be loved. end ID.

when i was a child, i never felt like a child / i felt like an emperor with a city to burn

[batsplat]

Oh im obses whit your blog like you are such a great historian on vale and love the way you analys stuff admire the way of writing all of your toughs in such a corent way 🩷🩷🐹

this is so nice, thank you!! okay so this ask was initially sent in response to this post about how marc knew what a dick valentino was to his rivals and appreciated/wished to emulate that side of him, in particular in the context of copying the jerez pass. and... well, there is one more follow-up post to that I did want to make. it didn't really work within that post because it's pretty speculative, but I think it's fun! here goes

so you know argentina 2018, right, big drama, reconciliation over, bla bla (I promise this is going in a more fun direction, stick with me here). there's a bit of marc's post-race media scrum that I am a wee bit obsessed with. or well, two specific lines, one in english (0:00) and one in spanish (1:02) - I've included the full responses for context, but in this post I'm really only interested in those two lines

in english:

But he was in the past also 25 years old, and will remember, everybody.

and in spanish:

He has also been 25 years old and, well, I hope that people also remember.

... 25 years old, did you say?

okay, look, fair warning. the rest of this post is going to be reading too much into what was probably an off-handed comment - even if, I'd just like to point out, it is something he felt the need to say twice. but let's just have some fun here, and read too much into it. as a treat

so obviously the most generic way to read this is him saying 'well valentino used to be really aggressive on-track too, so people shouldn't be criticising me more than they did him'. thing is, I wouldn't say there was that much of a noticeable decline in how aggressive valentino was being, and 2017 did still feature some major scraps where valentino very much got his elbows out (cf assen and phillip island, I included a bit more detail on this in the marc race rec post). sure, valentino did increasingly have his reservations about some of the behaviour of younger riders, so maybe he was less aggressive now relative to the field... but I just don't feel like that's quite what this line is implying. it's also not about valentino making 'mistakes' in general, because there would have been no reason to refer back to past-valentino in that regard... the 25 year old version of valentino was considerably more error-free than the 39 year old

so then, my theory is that it's about valentino's controversies! that's what people "will remember", right - it's not the general style of riding, not just innocent mistakes, it's the times when valentino caused a bit of a stir on and off the race track. now, again, you could go the generic route here and say 'ah well maybe marc is just thinking of all the mess valentino got himself involved in when he was younger, from getting into a fist fight with max biaggi at age 22 to pissing off casey stoner through his aggressive riding at laguna at age 29'. but let's say for a moment that marc was thinking a bit more specifically than that... after all, if we're just talking about valentino controversies in general, surely marc should be able to think of a rather more recent example where valentino, like marc at argentina 2018, caused another rider to crash and was subsequently penalised for his riding? of course, marc probably didn't want to bring up that particular controversy - but it's still interesting he feels the need to refer back to a younger version of valentino at all, the fact that this crossed his mind in the first place to make him bring it up unprompted while making his case. so maybe when marc, who is after all a known valentino rossi fan, refers twice to what valentino was like at "25 years old"... he is in fact thinking of what valentino was like when he was 25 years old. and in what year would that be? well, here's the thing. it would be 2004

readers of the sete post can probably guess where I'm going with this, but let's just take a moment to review what specific on-track incidents marc could be thinking of here. let's give him a little bit of extra leeway in terms of the age, even though I trust marc to be more on top of the exact age gap than valentino was in times past. let's throw in one year either way, so 2003 to 2005, and draw up a list of any particularly controversial races valentino was involved in. here's what I've got:

assen 2004 - valentino executed a hard overtake for the win on the last lap on sete gibernau. he's not in complete control and almost loses the front at the next corner, which would have taken them both out

qatar 2004 - after his team rubber up his grid slot the night before, valentino gets slapped with a back-of-the-grid penalty. he ends up crashing out of the race and burns his relationship with sete in the aftermath

jerez 2005 - at a time when their relationship is already very chilly, valentino and sete engage in another duel. valentino executes a block pass with contact at the final corner and is booed by the crowd

motegi 2005 - the first chance to seal that year's title, and one valentino would very much have liked to take to spite honda. an unwise overtaking attempt on melandri leaves both on the ground

so, my guess is that neither assen nor motegi were really big enough controversies to fit the bill, though maybe they stuck in marc's mind as instances of 'reckless riding' that he includes in a more generic internal understanding of young valentino rossi. we do of course know for a fact that marc was more than aware of what happened at jerez 2005, not least because he, you know, directly copied that move twelve years later (again, link to the relevant post). like marc in argentina 2018, valentino barged into a rival in rather controversial fashion, and obviously it also made the relationship between him and said rival deteriorate still further. sure, you can't really argue the move was 'as bad' as argentina 2018, but as far as I'm concerned it has the same general vibe

you know what else has the same general vibe? here's a race description for you:

a 25 year old rider is sent to the back of the grid for a reason they consider unfair

they proceed to deliver a phenomenal performance even by their lofty standards, quickly working their way up to a position that seemed unattainable to them

they barge a rival out of the way in their impatience, reaching back to apologise for the move

the race ends poorly for them and they fail to score any points

afterwards, their relationship with a rival is ruined as a result of the events of the race, and the whole thing remains a lingering controversy for years to come

one race that fits this description is, of course, argentina 2018. the other is qatar 2004. there's obviously plenty of details that are significantly different - valentino's move on barros is less egregious and far less controversial, and his race ends in the gravel rather than with a post-race time penalty. still, that start of valentino's? the impatience? the post-race fury? the repercussions this race had? come on, look at the race footage I included in the qatar post and tell me there's not a little bit of a shadow of that qatar fury to the argentina recklessness

this is a point I snuck into the marc race recs post, where I included this excerpt from a post-argentina 2018 write-up:

phillip island 2003, hm? as it happens, in the qatar post, I did include a bit of the autobiography that compares those two specific races:

so, phillip island 2003: a performance that made everyone wonder just how much valentino had left in reserve to draw on whenever he needed it. what valentino is saying here is that this performance wasn't a result of him holding back in all the other races that year - this was speed that was accessible to him only in that moment because he was so angry. so yes, maybe it's a valid question to wonder what would have happened at phillip island 2003 if it hadn't just been the ghost of his bike that had to pick its way through the stragglers. then again, valentino says it's not just rage that does the trick for him - it's controlled rage... which is all well and good, except when you lose control

and see also:

that's what argentina 2018 is all about, isn't it? it's a performance that's rooted in impatience, in restlessness, in frustration - where marc tuns his "rage into pure speed", as valentino would put it, in a hubristic dismissal of the rest of the field. ideally, the two of them channel those emotions to spur themselves on to special, signature performances... but sometimes, it gets the better of them. it got the better of marc that day in argentina and cost him the tentative peace with valentino. at qatar, it could have cost valentino the title

(also shades of this in jerez 2020 - an error sets the stage for some extraordinary pace before it all goes wrong) (catalunya 2003 is a fun more compact nephew to that race without the unhappy ending)

now, look, am I saying that marc was really referring back to qatar 2004 specifically, a race that had happened fourteen years earlier, when making an off-hand remark in a post-race media scrum as he tried to do some damage control in the wake of one of the most controversial races of his career? well, no. he could have been! but it's unlikely. maybe he's shit at maths and was actually thinking about laguna 2008 after all. still, I would like to once again point out that he felt the need to mention valentino's behaviour at age twenty five not once but twice. he's telling us that he wants people to remember what valentino was like at that age, and in the most literal sense I am doing what he's asking for. surely it's worth at least noting that there just happens to be a race where valentino was at that exact age and his temper overcame his rationality, leading to him making a costly error... surely it's worth acknowledging this...

even if marc wasn't actually obliquely referring back to that race or indeed any of the races I mentioned above, of course the parallels between valentino's foibles and marc's are in any case interesting. it speaks to how they get those special performances out of themselves, the similarities in how they operate in that regard... but of course also in how they both sometimes stray rather close to the limit, how they repeatedly flirt with crossing the line. a stubbornness and a hubris and a rage that can sometimes lead to disaster for the both of them. and another thing - who knows if marc was thinking about qatar 2004, but he must have been thinking about something. that's the point of that jerez post, right... marc is valentino's successor in so many ways, he has fashioned himself in valentino's image - and he keenly grasps and remains aware of all the different aspects of that legacy. he's the most accomplished of valentino's students and he felt strongly that what he did in that race in argentina was in some way comparable to what valentino himself had been doing at his age, part of the same tradition even. yes, to some extent marc is obviously accusing valentino of hypocrisy here: how can you judge me when you were once young and foolish too? his tone isn't exactly filled with remorse either, is it, he's pretty feisty in that media scrum! still, there's something more to it... something almost poetic to the whole thing, wouldn't you say? valentino had just accused marc of ruining the sport - and in response marc wants people to remember that they are just the same

[bonefall]

Don’t know if this is the right place to ask, but could you talk more about zoos? I’ve seen many people say that zoos are inherently exploitative and that we should instead focus on advocating for wildlife preserves, etc., but I’m not sure what to think of that. You seem to know a lot about wildlife protection, so what’s your opinion on this?

There are folks faaaar better than myself to talk about the issues of zoos specifically and I'll try to toss in some sources so you can go and learn more, but let me try and explain my mindset here.

Summary of my opinion on this: BOTH of these things can be poorly managed, and I broadly support both. They should exist in tandem. I am pro-accredited zoo and am extremely sensitive towards misinformation. I also do think the best place for animals to be is in their natural environment, but nature "preserves" aren't inherently perfect. They can also be prone to the capitalist (and colonialist) pressures that less informed people believe they're somehow immune to.

Because of the goal of my project being to make the setting of WC accurate to Northwestern England, my research is based on UK laws, ecology, and conservation programs.

On Zoos

On Nature Reserves

An Aside on Fortress Conservation

On Zoos

The legal definition of a Zoo in the UK (because that is what BB's ecological education is based around), as defined by the Zoo Licensing Act of 1981 (ZLA), is a "place where wild animals are kept for exhibition to the public," excluding circuses and pet shops (which are covered by different laws.)

This applies equally to private, for-profit zoos, as well as zoos run by wildlife charities and conservation organizations. Profit does not define a zoo. If there's a place trying to tell you it's not a zoo but a "sanctuary" or a "wildlife park," but you can still go visit and see captive wild animals, even if it's totally free, it's a marketing trick. Legally that is still a zoo in the UK.

(for fellow Americans; OUR definition is broader, more patchwork because we are 50 little countries in a trenchcoat, and can include collections of animals not displayed to the public.)

That said, there's a HUGE difference between Chester Zoo, run by the North of England Zoological Society, which personally holds the studbooks for maintaining the genetic diversity of 10 endangered species, has 134 captive breeding projects, cultivates 265 threatened plant species, and sends its members as consultants to United Nations conferences on climate change, and Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit.

Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pit ONLY has to worry about the UK government. There's another standard zoos can hold themselves to if they want to get serious about conservation like Chester Zoo; Accreditation. There are two major zoo organizations in the UK, BIAZA and EAZA.

(Americans may wonder about AZA; that's ours. AZA, EAZA, and BIAZA are all members of the World Association of Aquariums and Zoos, or WAZA, but they are all individual organizations.)

A zoo going for EAZA's "accreditation" has to undergo an entire year of evaluation to make sure they fit the strict standards, and renewal is ongoing. You don't just earn it once. You have to keep your animal welfare up-to-date and in compliance or you will lose it.

The benefit of joining with an accredited org is that it puts the zoo into a huge network of other organizations. They work together for various conservation efforts.

There are DOZENS of species that were prevented from going extinct, and are being reintroduced back to their habitats, because of the work done by zoos. The scimitar-horned oryx, takhi, California condor, the Galapagos tortoise, etc. Some of these WERE extinct in the wild and wouldn't BE here if it hadn't been for zoos!

The San Diego zoo is preventing the last remaining hawaiian crows from embracing oblivion right now, a species for which SO LITTLE of its wild behavior is known they had to write the book on caring for them, and Chester zoo worked in tandem with the Uganda Wildlife Authority to provide tech and funding towards breakthroughs in surveying wild pangolins.

Don't get me wrong;

MOST zoos are not accredited,

nor is accreditation is REQUIRED to make a good zoo,

nor does it automatically PROVE nothing bad has happened in the zoo,

There are a lot more Sam Tiddles' Personal Zebra Pits than there are Chester Zoos.

That's worth talking about! We SHOULD be having conversations on things like,

Is it appropriate to keep and breed difficult, social megafauna, like elephants or cetaceans? What does the data say? Are there any circumstances where that would be okay, IF the data does confirm we can never provide enough space or stimulation to perfectly meet those species' needs?

How can we improve animal welfare for private zoos? Should we tighten up regulations on who can start or run one (yes)? Are there enough inspectors (no)?

Do those smaller zoos meaningfully contribute to better conservation? How do we know if they are properly educating their visitors? Can we prove this one way or the other?

Who watches the watchmen? Accreditation societies hold themselves accountable. Do these organizations truly have enough transparency?

(I don't agree with Born Free's ultimate conclusion that we should "phase out" zoos, but you should always understand the opposing arguments)

But bottom line of my opinion is; Good zoos are deeply important, and they have a tangible benefit to wildlife conservation. Anyone who tries to tell you that "zoos are inherently unethical" either knows very little about zoos or real conservation work, or... is hiding some deeper, more batshit take, like "having wild animals in any kind of captivity is unlawful imprisonment."

(you'll also get a lot more work done in regulating the exotic animal trade in the UK if you go after private owners, btw. zoos have nothing to do with how lax those laws are.)

Anyway I'm a funny cat blog about battle kitties, and the stuff I do for BB is to educate about the ecosystem of Northern England. If you want to know more about zoos, debunking misconceptions, and critiques from someone with more personal experience, go talk to @why-animals-do-the-thing!

Keep in mind though, again, they talk about American zoos, where this post was written with the UK in mind.

(and even then, England specifically. ALL UK members and also the Isle of Man have differences in their laws.)

(If anyone has other zoo education tumblr blogs in mind, especially if they are European, lmk and I'll edit this post)

On Nature Reserves

Remember how broad the legal definition of a zoo actually was? Same thing over here. A "nature reserve" in the UK is a broad, unofficial generic term for several things. It doesn't inherently involve statutory protection, either, meaning there's some situations where there's no laws to hold anyone accountable for damage

These are the "nature reserve" types relevant to my project; (NOTE: Ramsar sites, SACs, and SPAs are EU-related and honestly, I do not know how Brexit has effected them, if at all, so I won't be explaining something I don't understand.)

Local Wildlife Site (LWS) Selected via scientific survey and managed locally, connecting wildlife habitats together and keeping nature close to home. VERY important... and yet, incredibly prone to destruction because there aren't good reporting processes in place. Whenever a report comes out every few years, the Wildlife Trust says it often only gets data for 15% of all their registered sites, and 12% get destroyed in that timeframe.

Local Nature Reserve (LNR) A site that can be declared by a district or county council, if proven to have geographic, educational, biodiversity, or recreational value. The local authority manages this, BUT, the landowner can remain in control of the property and "lease" it out (and boy oh boy, landowners do some RIDICULOUS things)

National Nature Reserve (NNR) This is probably closest to what you think of when someone says "nature reserve." Designated by Natural England to protect significant habitat ranges and geographic formations, but still usually operates in tandem with private land owners who must get consent if they want to do something potentially damaging to the NNR.

Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) (pronounced Triple S-I) A conservation designation for a particular place, assessed and defined by Natural England for its biological or geographic significance. SSSIs are protected areas, and often become the basis for NNRs, LNRs, Ramsar sites, SACs, SPAs, etc.

So you probably noticed that 3/4 of those needed to have the private ownership problem mentioned right in the summary, and it doesn't end there. Even fully government-managed NNRs and SSSIs work with the private sectors of forestry, tourism, and recreation.

We live under Capitalism; EVERYTHING has a profit motive, not just zoos.

I brushed over some of those factors in my Moorland Research Notes and DESPERATELY tried to stay succinct with them, but it was hard. The things that can happen to skirt around the UK's laws protecting wildlife could make an entire season of Monty Python sketches.

Protestors can angrily oppose felling silver birch (a "weed" in this context which can change the ecosystem) because it made a hike less 'pretty' and they don't understand heath management.

Management can be reluctant to ban dogs and horses for fear of backlash, even as they turn heath to sward before our eyes.

Reserves can be owned by Count Bloodsnurt who thinks crashing through the forest with a pack of dogs to exhaust an animal to death is a profitable traditional British passtime.

Or you can literally just pretend that you accidentally chased a deer for several hours and then killed it while innocently sending your baying hounds down a trail. (NOTE: I am pro-hunting, but not pro-animal cruelty.)

The Forestry Commission can slobber enthusiastically while replacing endangered wildlife habitats with non-native, invasive sitka spruce plantations, pretending most trees are equal while conveniently prioritizing profitable timber species.

I have STORIES to tell about the absolute Looney Tunes bullshit that's going on between conservationists and rich assholes who want to sell grouse hunting access, but I'll leave it at this fascinating tidbit about air guns and mannequins which are "totally, absolutely there for no nefarious reason at all, certainly not to prevent marsh harriers from nesting in an area where they also keep winding up mysteriously killed in illegal snares, no no no"

BUT. Since Nature Reserve isn't a hard defined legal concept, and any organization could get involved in local conservation in the UK, and just about anyone or anything could own one... IT'S CHESTER ZOO WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!

They received a grant in 2021 to restore habitat to a stretch of 10 miles extending outside of their borders, working with TONS of other entities such as local government and conservation charities in the process. There's now 6,000 square meters of restored meadow, an orchard, new ponds, and maintained reedbeds, because of them.

It isn't just Chester Zoo, either. It's all over the UK. Durrel Wildlife, which runs Jersey Zoo, just acquired 18,500 acres to rewild in Perthshire. Citizen Zoo is working with the Beaver Trust to bring beavers back to London and is always looking for volunteers to help with their river projects, and the Edinburgh Zoo is equipped with gene labs being used to monitor and analyze the remaining populations of non-hybrid Scottish Wildcats.

The point being,

Nature preserves have problems too. They are not magical fairy kingdoms that you put up a fence around and then declare you Saved Nature Hooray! They need to be protected. They need to be continuously assessed. They are prone to capitalist pressures just like everything else on this hell planet. Go talk to my boy Karl he'll give you a hug about it.

"Nature Preserves" are NOT an "alternative" to zoos and vice versa. They do not do the same thing. A zoo is a center of education and wildlife research which displays exotic animals. A nature preserve is a parcel of native ecosystem. We need LOTS of nature preserves and we need them well-managed ASAP.

We could never just "replace" zoos with nature preserves, and we're nowhere near the amount of protected ecosystem space to start thinking of scaling back animals in captivity. Until King Arthur comes out of hibernation to save Britain, that's the world we live in.

An Aside

My project and my research is based on the isle of Great Britain. The more I learn about the ecosystems that are naturally found there, the more venomously I reject the old lie, "humans are a blight."

YOU are an animal. You're a big one, too. You know what the role of big animals in an ecosystem are? Change. Elephants knock over trees, wolves alter the course of rivers, bison fertilize the plains from coast-to-coast. In Great Britain, that's what hominids have done for 900,000 years, their populations ebbing and flowing with every ice age.

Early farming created the moors and grazing sheep and cattle maintain it, hosting hundreds of specialist species. Every old-growth forest has signs of ancient coppicing and pollarding, which create havens for wildlife when well-managed. Corn cockle evolved as a mimic of wheat seeds, so farmers would plant it over and over within their fields.

This garbage idea that humans are somehow "separate" from or "above" nature is poison. It's not true ANYWHERE.

It contributes to an idea that our very presence is somehow damaging to natural spaces, and to "protect" it, we have to completely leave it alone. NO! Absolutely NOT! There are places where we have to limit harvesting and foot traffic, but humans ALWAYS lived in nature.

Even the ecosystems that this mindset comes from rejects it, but this shit doesn't JUST get applied to British people who become alienated and disconnected from their surroundings to the point where they don't know what silver birch does.

It's DEADLY for the indigenous people who protect 80% of our most important ecosystems.

It's a weapon against the Maasai people, stopped from hunting or growing crops on their own land. It's violence for 9 San hunters shot at by a helicopter with a "kill poachers on-sight" policy, as one of the world's LARGEST diamond mines operates in the same motherfucking park. The Havasupai people are kept out of the Grand Canyon that they managed for generations because they might "collect too many nuts" and starve squirrels, Dukha reindeer herders suddenly get banned from chopping wood or fishing, and watch wolves decimate their animals in the absence of their herding dogs.

It's nightmare after nightmare of human displacement in the name of "conservation."

That all ties back to that mindset. This idea that nature is pure, "pristine," and should be totally untouched. There are some starting to call it Fortress Conservation.

You can't begin to understand the criticisms of modern conservation without acknowledging that we are still living under the influence of capitalism and colonialism. Those who fixate on speaking for "animals/nature/trees who don't have a voice" often seem to have no interest in the indigenous people who do.

Listen. There's no simple answer; and the solution will vary for each region.

Again, my project is within the UK, one of the most ecologically devastated areas in the world. There are bad zoos that the law allows a pass. There are incredible zoos that are vital to conservation, in and outside of the country. There's not enough nature preserves. The best ones that exist are often exploited for profit.

I hope that my silly little blog sparks an interest in a handful of people to understand more about their own local ecosystems, and teaches folks about the unique beauty even within a place as "boring" as England.

But, my straightforward statement is that I have no patience for nonconstructive, broad zoo slander that lumps together ALL of them, and open contempt for anyone who tries to sell nature preserves like a perfect, morally superior "alternative." We need them BOTH right now, and we need to acknowledge that zoos AND preserves have legal and ethical issues that aren't openly talked about.

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