#at my own work too???

[lomltrentarnold]

❛ alleged girlfriend. ❜ — trent alexander-arnold

❪ part one / part two ❫

‣ warning : fem!reader, somewhat fake relationship au but not really, trent and reader aren’t really dating but there are rumours 👀 and they are not denying anything sigh, flirting, i think they like each other idk 🤷‍♀️

‣ hana’s notes : i really liked writing this concept idk why 😭 it was making me smiling and shit 😭 maybe i’ll do more fake relationship au with trent!! hope yall enjoy this mwah 🫶

MAIN MASTERLIST

━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━

trent never really liked parties. sometimes its way too loud, way too stuffy, and way too many people. if it was his teammates or friends he was fine. but sometimes it was strangers that just loves to ask too many questions that he feels like he’s in an interview more than a conversation. some just wanted to hear the drama about the transfers and relationships rumours.

“so trent, the fans want to know if you’re seeing someone or not.”

speaking of relationship rumours.

trent involuntary scrunched his face. if he hears that question one more time or anything related to that he is going to go crazy. the amount of times he has to dodge answering that question this night alone was insane.

it all started with a viral tweet recently that went out on how trent was always “seen” with this one person, a girl specifically, over these past weeks. everyone went haywire with assumptions. articles were posted, people were flooding his dms and his ig posts are full of comments about this mysterious girl.

who? when? how?!

“hello, pardon, i’m so sorry to interrupt, but can i steal him for a bit.”

timing couldn’t have been anymore perfect.

he snapped his head towards you so fast, you can positively hear his neck crack. with the sound of your voice, he could suddenly feel the clouds clearing, the room felt less stuffy, the birds were chirping and everything seemed fine.

your hands wrapped around trent’s forearm, moving to stand close to him, as you smiled politely at the person in front of him.

in all honesty you have been keeping your eyes on him ever since you saw an interviewer that you recognised speaking to him. with trent’s body language, anyone could tell that he wanted to get out of that conversation. so you excuse yourself from your friends and made your way to trent, a strategy already in mind.

the person nodded their head quickly, “yes, yes of course miss.” before they cheekily added, “wouldn’t want to keep you away from your man.”

trent internally cringed, he doesn’t want you to be embarrassed but instead he heard you giggle, your hands squeezing his bicep tighter. but trent knows you, he knows that was not your real laugh.

but when he turned to look at you, he can see that your eyes were sparkling, you were wearing an adorable smile that pulls on his heartstrings, the lights of the room making your skin all glowy and he thinks he might pass out.

as you both bid your goodbyes, trent immediately rested his warm hand at your back, guiding you through the room. you both ended up in a secluded area, hoping that it was out of the eyes of other people. but that proved wrong because you could feel every pair of eyes on you and trent as you both walked together.

leaning against a wall, you turned to look into his brown eyes that you have become fond of. you smiled at him, eyes involuntary dropping down to his rose tinted lips as he licked them, before it curls into one of his pretty grin that never fails to make you swoon.

suddenly you look over trent’s shoulder, you saw a group of people taking picture of both of you.

you can already see the tweets.

trent alexander-arnold seen with the same girl at a party last night!

trent alexander-arnold getting cozy with someone?

is trent alexander-arnold in a relationship? or is it just casual?

is trent alexander-arnold no longer single?

you smile dropped, and trent grew concerned, “what is it?”

you looked at him, an apology ready in your mind. “i’m so sorry. you just looked uncomfortable and i thought i’d came in and save you. but i am so sorry if that was crossing a line. because with the way it looked we aren’t beating the rumours anytime soon.” you rambled.

trent shook his head, a chuckle leaving his lips. “nah, it’s fine. thank you for savin’ me.” he smirked, at your relief face before a teasing look appeared on his face, “but, ya didn’t say anything when the guy said i was ‘your man’.”

you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how your heart was beating like crazy, —this gorgeous man was standing right in front of you. you could smell his cologne, you needed to calm down— “you’re very welcome by the way.”

with the smirk never leaving his face, he took a step forward towards you, closing in on your space. you could see his dimples better like this.

“aren’t worried that people are going take our pictures together? with the rumours?” you voiced out, concern plastered on your face.

he shrugged, “nah, not really. reporters say a lot of things, doesn’t really bother me.”

you slowly nodded your head in understanding, lips pursed as a second of silence passed. “so…”

“so…” trent coughed out, he moved between the balls of his feet, “wanna get out of here?” he whispered, scrunching his nose in a way that has you smiling like a lovesick fool.

your nervously looked to the crowd, seeing if anybody was still staring. when you were positive no one was, you looked at trent, nodding with a smile, “yeah, okay.” you took his hand in yours, missing the way his eyes went wide and a shy smile appeared on his lips.

he interlock your fingers together, “let’s go, then.”

you don’t think you’re going to beat the allegations anytime soon.

tell me what you think babes <3 also part 2 ?? update : i posted pt2

[amelia-yap]

warrior

[puppyeared]

littlest furth shop

@laikascomet

[chernozemm]

a little thought experiment:

it can be argued that both aziraphale and crowley present two types of queer "masculinity" on the show, so i wanted to see how it can translate to queer "femininity" while maintaining their core character.

aziraphale: -kept the prim and proper vintage look -bowtie>suspenders -gay energy>butch energy -looks vaguely based on Kaz Rowe (check them out on YT! a wonderful queer historian) crowley: -kept the edgy dark look with snake accents -skintight outfits, with a mix of feminine cuts thrown in > a boxy wide suit with figure-hugging turtleneck and vest -looks wise think Cate Blanchett & Esther Quek

disclaimer gender is a made up thing but also a very real thing so trying to tightrope the line between those two facts isn't easy in a couple of dozen words.

[avelera]

If posting fic online has taught me anything, it’s that I have no idea how the reader will react to anything. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Not the faintest clue.

Fics that I think I scribbled off just to get them out there get the kindest, most rapturous feedback. Fics I slaved over, agonized over, bled my soul into get a couple tepid replies. Fics I thought were me revealing the darkness and weird kink that lives in my brain, scared to even post it for fear of judgement, get, “Aaaw that’s so sweet!” replies. Baffling.

My conclusion? You just never know. You really just can’t know. When I did a workshop with 20 other writers I would try to guess what their critique of my story would be and I was right maybe 1 in 20 times. Only one other writer would have the same critique for my story that I had. And it wasn’t even always the same person.

The encouraging part about this is, if self recrimination, the fear that you know what people won’t like about your story, is holding you back, just say fuck it! You’re almost certainly wrong! All you can do is make it the best story you can for the energy you have. And yeah, sometimes that means scribbling it out in an evening and kicking it out to the void of the internet before you can change your mind or worry about editing it more than once because then you’ll never post it.

It’s all chaos, man. You don’t get to decide what the audience thinks. All you can do is create it and put it out there for them to decide.

[mumblesplash]

part 2!!!! [read part one here]

transcript below the cut arranged into stanzas to help show where the rhymes are:

“that’s why they brought gem in? as a failsafe?” as a pawn. we were told to point her at whoever we need gone

“gem won’t hurt her allies. …yet.” the curse she carries will it’s had its eye on her since she lost the other eye she was specially selected for her hunting skill it’s quite the high honor. “wow. how generous.” we try

think about it: why does almost no one fight the curse? “given how fast scott killed skizz last season, i can guess.” [“any pain you spare your friends, you’ll have to suffer worse”?] it’s designed to shut down higher reasoning with stress

[keii]

no sense of personal space

[zzztlk]

Making good progress with my comic so I put together a little promo to celebrate :D

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[bluestation]

W7/EL sketchbook spreads

[stevebabey]

it was supposed to be short n small and now its 3k & its unedited and u all have to just deal with it bcos it was supposed to be SMALL | ao3

The driver's side car window makes a resounding thunk when Steve’s forehead falls against it.

Through the glass, his keys glint tauntingly back at him.

Still tucked in the ignition, locked in on the inside. So close and yet so far from Steve who is, unfortunately, locked on the outside.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

He lets his head raise up a bit just to drop it back against the window again, this time more in punishment. Of course, of course, he coughs up the money needed for a warrant of fitness and then he goes and locks his keys in the car the next day. Like he needed one more cost added to his finances.

Steve steals a glance at his watch. Fuck, if he doesn’t get on the road in the next 10 minutes, he’ll be more than late to work.

His eyes glance across to Eddie’s van, parked beside his own car, outside the trailer home in Forest Hills. Then he looks back at the trailer.

He can ask. He can just go inside and ask Eddie for the lift— and explain that the reason he can’t take his own perfectly fine car is because he’s so goddamn thick between the ears that he’s locked his keys inside, like some kind of moron.

The voice in his head sounds suspiciously like his father.

Something thick grows in his throat. He swallows it to no avail. Embarrassment begins to flush down his neck, hot and uncomfortable.

No, no— he can’t ask Eddie because as far as Steve knows, Eddie hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

Even while Dustin and Mike make their jokes about him being a bit slow, even when Robin says at least you have your pretty face, Eddie brushes them off and laughs. Takes them as jokes with no merit to them. Steve knows though.

So what if he doesn’t want to burst his bubble just yet?

He knows Eddie will figure it out eventually— because they always do. When he asks too many stupid questions and needs things explained twice and— and it’s just inevitable, okay? He knows that.

Fixing his glare through the window of his car at the shiny pair of keys within, Steve wrestles with what would be worse; being late or accidentally tipping Eddie off when they’ve just gotten so close.

Close enough to share a kiss, two nights ago, under the covers. It was barely more than a peck. But Steve knew it had taken a miraculous amount of courage from Eddie to do it— to surge forward and grab Steve’s face, his rings cool against his skin, and press his mouth against his Steve's own.

Eddie’s lips had been chapped but his smile had been pure sunshine and Steve thinks he could’ve stayed forever under that blanket, memorising the shade of pink Eddie’s cheeks turn after a kiss.

They’ve been dancing around it ever since. Each interaction is more charged, more flirty, more gooey. Long lingering looks and pointed nudges that make Steve feel like a 14-year-old with a crush again, in the best way.

So, no. He exactly can’t go ask.

With a heavy sigh and glance up at the darkening sky, Steve is only glad he’s not supposed to pick up Robin today as he begins to walk.

—

One phone call to the auto-shop reveals exactly how much it’ll cost to get his keys retrieved. Which is, to say, entirely too much for one adult living on the wage of a Family Video employee.

And they won’t be able to get anyone out for another whole day.

Growing more and more frustrated with himself, Steve angrily jots the number down into his little notebook, the pen pressing down hard enough to leave indents on the page behind it. Keith is somewhere out the back, snacking no doubt, and leaving Steve to man the front.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother him— especially because he could discretely make the phone call he needed— but now it’s just him, the empty store, and the number in his notebook that stares back at him.

Oh, and it’s raining.

The darkening sky from earlier had transformed into something closer to a thunderstorm, rain lashing against the windows and driving any and all customers away. Which is fantastic— just what Steve needs now, really the fucking cherry on the top.

The phone rings, the noise unusually shrill in the silence of the store. The film playing amongst the aisles has been on mute as soon as he’d gotten his hands on the remote and Keith had disappeared out the back.

Steve stares at the phone, watching it ring once, twice, before he picks it up with a heavy sigh. He dredges up his customer service voice.

“This is Family Video, how can I help?” He greets, putting as much pep into his voice as he can manage—which turns out to be a meagre amount.

“Did you walk to work today?”

Steve straightens up at the sound of Eddie’s voice on the other end of the line. His free hand instinctively smooths down the front of his vest before he quickly remembers Eddie can’t actually see him.

“Eddie?” He asks, instead of answering the question.

“Your Highness, himself,” Eddie responds. His tone is that usual jaunty playfulness that Steve’s come to adore. “Now answer the question, Steve-o. I thought you were one of those smart guys who actually listens when the weather report comes on the radio. Why the hell did you walk?”

Steve’s shoulders curl in, just an inch, and his eyes seek out the open notebook with the quoted amount, underlined and circled, staring back at him. His throat grows a lump at Eddie’s unknowingly poor choice of words.

“Thought I would walk today.” He replies, his voice clipped. “You know, walking, exercise, good for you? Any of these ringing a bell for you, Munson?”

It’s supposed to be a joke but Steve can tell by the end of the sentence, it’s come out way too sour to land that way. He sounds mean.

Steve cringes, clutching the phone a little tighter and screwing up his eyes. He waits for Eddie’s response.

“You know,” Eddie says, sounding a lot duller all of a sudden. “I was calling to maybe offer you a lift through the rain—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, that-“ Steve cuts in, that same strange embarrassment swelling in his throat. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“—But if you’re gonna be a dick about it, you can enjoy the walk.”

Steve grits his teeth and pinches the bridge of his nose because this feels a little too much like a line from his Dad— but it isn’t because Steve is the one digging this hole all on his own. He’s the idiot who fucking locked his keys in his car and walked to work and snapped at Eddie and—

“No, I’m sorry.” He says, still a bit too tense.

Idiot, idiot, you’re being a fucking idiot, Harrington.

“A ride would be appreciated. Please.”

A pause. This time when Eddie speaks, he’s a little softer. “You off at five today?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at five.”

The dial tone sounds as Eddie hangs up but Steve stays where he is, phone pressed against his one good ear, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. The rain begins to flood the parking lot.

—

Five o’clock comes around too soon.

The rain has let up, just barely, but enough that Steve can actually see Eddie’s van when it pulls up into the parking lot. It rocks about dangerously in the wind and Steve suddenly feels bad for making Eddie come out to get him.

He could’ve stayed here, taken the longer shift. Told Keith to take off early and just walked back home when the rain let up a little more— or just camped out the back on the couch in the employee room if it never did.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

He’d started doing it more and more when his parent’s visits to home became more frequent. It was easy to pull a few white lies out and Steve far preferred answering questions like: Where were you last night? than Why won't you come out to our event tonight? Show face for the Harrington's? It's not like you're doing anything with your life, right?

The only reason he’d stopped, actually, was because he had become good friends with Eddie.

Eddie, who loved his company almost any hour of the day. Who gobbled up each and every morsel of food Steve cooked up, whether it was good or partially burned on the sides. Who told him he had a place in the trailer, day or night, rain or shine.

Eddie who… was waiting outside at five o’clock exactly, pulled up to the curb so Steve wouldn’t have to walk through the rain for more than a moment.

There’s a sliver of surprise, deep within his chest; like he thought Eddie might’ve not shown up and forced him to walk through the rain, just to learn his lesson. It would make sense, Steve thinks. You reap what you sow.

He clocks out hastily, barely murmuring his exit to Keith who doesn’t look up in the slightest. Steve heads for the door and decides then and there, he’ll happily pay the number in his notebook if he doesn’t have to tell Eddie what a fucking moron he actually is.

Water splashes as he dashes down the steps and Eddie’s leaning across, pushing the door open so Steve doesn’t even have to wait to yank it open in the rain. He slides in, sprinkled with rain, slams the door closed, and instantly gets blasted with heat.

“God, you’re a lifesaver,” Steve sighs, sticking his hands out towards the air vents which are working in overdrive. They whir loudly in complaint. Eddie smiles, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the warmth, and twists the wheel, his eyes on the road before him.

The van groans and the bumper dips, kissing the gutter, as they roll out onto the road and head for Forest Hills. For a moment, Eddie focuses on driving straight before he flicks his gaze across to Steve.

“You know I wouldn’t have actually let you walk, right?”

Steve blinks, unsure of what to say in response, because he actually did think that was a possibility until about 2 minutes ago. He shivers as a stray drop in his hair sneaks under his collar, cold and wet.

“Right.” He answers, giving a hesitant smile back.

They’re driving slower than usual due to the rain. Steve lets himself sink back into the worn seats of the van, comforted by the familiar smells. A tang of tobacco, a stronger hint of weed, and that musky deodorant that Eddie swears by— even if Steve has never heard of the brand before.

But, well, it must be working in some sense because when Steve takes a deep breath, he smells it and feels a sense of calm. He doesn’t even notice he’s begun staring.

The strange weather has made Eddie’s hair frizzier than usual and paired with his rosy cheeks, Steve thinks he looks goddamn delectable. He gets caught up in a daydream about having a hot chocolate when they get back to the trailer, maybe even sharing a blanket on the couch and—

And then, Eddie turns and says, “So, wanna tell me why you walked? For real, this time?”

Something shrivels up within Steve. The tightness in his throat from this morning returns. He turns his head and looks out the window.

“I don’t get why you don’t believe me when I say I walked because I wanted to.” He grumbles, almost too low for Eddie to hear over the rain.

Why are they still talking about this? He thinks of the keys through the driver’s side window, thinks of the number in his notebook and the much smaller one in his bank account, and has to hold back from thumping his head against the glass again.

Something metallic jingles behind him.

Steve whips around, his eyes zeroing in on his keys dangling from Eddie’s hand— clearly just retrieved from his pocket. Something ugly and warm wakes up inside him, his stomach knotting uncomfortably, and his cheeks start to burn in embarrassment.

Idiot, Idiot, Idiot.

He knows, he already fucking knows how stupid you are.

Eddie’s eyes dart off the road to look at Steve. “Cos you’re clearly not telling the truth.”

Steve averts his gaze, turning his face back to the window and the wet pavement rushing by beneath the car. He swallows but the lump in his throat doesn’t move.

“Okay, look I don’t actually care that you walked to work,” Eddie continues, placing the keys down in the cup holder between the seats. “I just don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me that they were locked in your car.”

Steve can’t help it, the way his shoulders hike up. His teeth sink into his bottom lip meanly, nearly drawing blood. He doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it— Eddie’s still trying to rationalise away what everyone else has already figured out.

“I just—” Steve starts, on the defence, but it comes out a bit too wet. He forces himself to swallow again, thankful there’s no sting of tears in his eyes. “I can fix that shit on my own. That’s all.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie agrees.

Below them both, the hum of the van begins to dwindle and Steve realises abruptly that Eddie’s slowing down, pulling over to the side of the road. He looks to the side, at Eddie.

“Please, c’mon, I just wanna go home, man.” Steve pleads, not even caring that he’s referred so casually to Eddie’s trailer as his home.

“Wait, just,” Eddie waves a hand as he sticks the van into park, releasing the wheel and properly turning to Steve.

“I just want to understand. You know I can pop the door to most cars in, like, 5 minutes. Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Eddie,” Steve stresses, turning away with a pointed sigh. He runs a hand through his hair, latching onto the roots and tugging at it. “Just leave it, please.”

“Or asked for a lift!” Eddie continues, his hands gesturing out a bit wildly. “I could’ve given you a lift even.”

Steve's eyes slice across the van and he wills back every emotional outburst that wants to lash out of him, to poke the right spot that will hurt to get Eddie to back off.

But Eddie is just staring at him, brown eyes wide, a little furrow between his brows, and is just confused. Concerned.

“If you keep driving,” Steve murmurs, almost dejectedly. He ducks his head low and turns back to the window. “I’ll tell you.”

It works— the engine rumbles back to life and the wheels roll gently back out onto the road, just a couple more minutes from Forest Hills. Steve watches the road and tries to grasp for the right thing to say, each possibility dissolving like smoke. His eyes squeeze shut tightly. The rain dins loudly on the roof of the van, a song and dance of the elements.

By the time they’re entering Forest Hills, Steve still hasn’t said a word. The van crawls up into its usual spot, next to Steve’s own car, and Steve stares down at it. He can hear the soft click of Eddie’s seatbelt as he releases it.

He supposes it’s too late now, anyway. Eddie already knows. He keeps his eyes out the window as he speaks, his voice flat and dull.

“I just... I didn’t want you to think that I’m an idiot, too.”

There’s a questioning noise behind him, a little noise from Eddie’s throat that slips out, unbidden.

“Too?” He echoes. “Steve? Who thinks you’re an idiot?”

Steve huffs loudly and turns back, throwing his hands up. “Jesus, who doesn’t? Would you like a list?”

Eddie’s face twists into a meaner expression than Steve's ever seen before and for once, he properly matches the dark clothes and spooky tattoos he dons.

“Yes. And I’ll go door to door— wait,” He shuffles, shifting up onto his knees so he can stretch over the console and place his large hands on either side of Steve’s face, directing his gaze towards him.

It’s reminiscent of a kiss not too long ago. Despite all the burning self-deprecation that churns inside, the pleasant reminder dulls it significantly.

“I’ll go door to door to anyone who ever made you feel that way,” Eddie repeats, now face to face with Steve, their noses nearly touching. His brows are still pull tight into a furious frown. But it's not at him, Steve realises. “And I’ll do something— I’m not sure what yet, but it’ll be foul and like, maybe I’ll put instant mash potatoes on their lawn and— okay the specifics aren’t relevant but this— this is.”

He searches Steve’s face intently, eyes darting around, making sure the message is sinking in. His expression softens out, his eyes suddenly sweeter than before. “You’re aren’t an idiot, Steve. You aren’t an idiot for making a mistake and I���ve never thought that about you.”

Steve blinks. Swallows heavily and god fucking dammit, is the thickness in his throat ever going to disappear? This time it feels different though. He’s not sure how.

“You don’t think I’m an idiot, do you?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head, moving Eddie’s hands with them at the same time. It’s true, he doesn’t. Eddie is… goddamn fucking wonderful. He’s like a warm summer shower through the wretched seasons of Steve’s life. One of the reasons it was worth living through the entire ordeal of 86.

The rain outside continues, pitter-pattering on the roof, somehow softer than it was a second ago.

“Okay,” Eddie says, a small smile on tugging on his lips.

“Okay,” Steve says back. He tries for a smile and it’s easier than expected, though it wobbles at the ends. It doesn’t matter— Eddie is still gazing at him, brown eyes shining and Steve believes what he says.

“Okay,” Eddie says one more time, his smile turning closer to a grin. “Let’s go make some cocoa, yeah?”

He moves to retract his hands but Steve moves faster, his hands darting up to hold them in their place, palms against his cheeks.

“Wait,” Steve murmurs, watching how Eddie stills and keeps his closeness, their noses still a couple inches from touching— and Steve clings to the threads of courage in him tightly.

His hands slide off Eddie’s, grasping lightly at his wrists, and it’s easy to lean forward and connect their mouths in one swift motion.

Eddie squeaks— then melts.

It takes half a second before he remembers to kiss back, equally as enthusiastic and it’s nothing like the first kiss they shared under the covers. The rain dances around them and Steve swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s pulse soothing, feeling the barest jump of his rabbiting pulse.

When he shifts back, breaking the kiss, Steve keeps the closeness, the tips of their noses bumping together. Eddie’s hands feel blazing warm on Steve’s cheeks but when his lashes flutter open, catching sight of Eddie’s glorious pink cheeks, he thinks it might be his face burning up too.

They tumble inside through the rain and with all of Steve’s prayers answered today, they also share a blanket on the couch, ankles linked beneath the rumpled fabric. They make hot chocolate, Steve’s style, and sip it at, making googly eyes at each other over the rim of their mugs— until Eddie laughs too much and spits it down his front.

Steve doesn’t feel stupid again— unless that is, you count feeling stupidly sappy.

(He does not.)

[ruporas]

tri-trans! happy#tdov 💘

[omaano]

K2 for echorexfives? 👀

Rex would like a refund on his ARCs. Or a nap. Either is fine.

Just imagine for the second one that Rex is on an official holo call or something XD

Help me get back into sketching through some of these polyam/platonic pose prompts :3 (I'm still slowly doing these, they help powering through this little artistic crisis I'm suffering rn)

[puppyeared]

happy valentines day <3 i wanted to do more, but sadly i only had enough time to complete these two

please also don't forget Rafah is under attack and urgently needs help. you can buy esims, check the BDS boycott list, click the daily donation button and email your representatives (USA).

there will also be a global strike february 18 - 24.

[thedisablednaturalist]

Sometimes terms mean certain things and belong to certain groups of people and are not meant to apply to people outside that group. And that is on purpose and valid. You can make your own terms to describe your own experiences, you don't get to take terms from other people, especially people more vulnerable/less privileged than you. If multiple people tell you that the term is not for you, respect that.

When terms get used for many different situations they get diluted and trivialized. Remember "trigger"? It was a specific medical term and is now used to mean "something that pissed or upset someone". Brain fog is now turning into abled people just being a little sleepy or out of it, not literally a clinical term for brains not functioning correctly due to various illnesses. I tell someone I have brain fog and they say lol me too XD no you fucking don't. "Spirit animal" was taken from indigenous peoples so white people could make funny haha relatable t-shirts. Two spirit almost got taken by queer white people as well (although I think most people have backed off on that hopefully).

Not everything needs to apply to as many people as possible. You don't need to and can't relate to everyone. We can still support each other while respecting differences.

(Edited ver)

[skylersprompts]

DC x DP Prompt *32*

This was the ninth- no.... tenths loop. He is eating his breakfast and he is dizzy again. Because Mom drugged his oatmeal, because Mom and Dad knew! Danny stood up from his chair and tried to leave the kitchen. (He knew it wouldn't work, it never worked) His eyes grew heavy and a few steps later he hit the ground.

He wakes up to the same gruesome picture as in the last nine loops. But Danny doesn't beg anymore. Or says anything. It hurts, but it's nothing he hasn't had felt before. It would only take them a week before they would destroy his core again and then everything would start anew. Maybe he could think of something better for next time.

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The last feeling he remembered was an all encompassing pain, as his Dad crushed his core. But he was at the breakfast table again, already feeling groggy. But maybe this time he could get help? He knew that he could fight the drugs for around ten minutes, as long as he didn't stand up.

So instead he got his phone out of his pocket. He knew that neither his sisters, nor his friends would be fast enough, he already tried them, but maybe someone else could be fast enough.

He opened Twitter and started to write a new post, ignoring his atrocious spelling in favor of getting as many information out as possible.

@theoneandonlyflash I'm kinda stuck in a time looop and my parents will koll me in about a werk they druged me so I'll be in they lab in a fee minotes. Pleaase helpp and fins me iin Amyt Park, Illnois. My name iss Dannyy Fentin

He was able to press send, before his vision would become to spotty. Now he just needed to hope that the fastest man alive would be able to help him. Danny's head fell on the table.

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It was the eleventh time he woke up to the same scene and this time he couldn't do anything against his tears. He would die again... and again and again...

Danny's spiraling thought were interrupted by the basement door, that had hit the wall. This was new!