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#i’m not even nineteen yet but like. going back to stuff i liked when i was 14/15 and still have some fondness for
johntorrington · 1 year
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sometimes media is so much better when you aren’t fourteen
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wqnwoos · 9 months
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joshua hong breaks your heart three and a half times before you can even reach nineteen, and yet you can’t stop loving him with the pieces that remain.
i. the first time ; when you meet
the story of you and joshua starts at the beginning, which sounds pretty redundant, but it’s the beginning in more may than one. the beginning of friendship — the beginning of freshman year — the beginning of something bigger than two fourteen year olds can imagine.
it starts, as you say, at the onset of freshman year. you’re nervous — extra nervous because these kids went to the same middle school, and you’re the stranger, the outsider, the transfer student who nobody knows yet. it’s obvious in the way they talk to each other; gossipping about unfamiliar names, inside jokes only they understand.
and so homeroom begins with ice breakers, and it turns out that you and someone named joshua hong have the same favourite colour and you both like horror movies, and that’s enough for you to think to yourself, that one. i want to be friends with that one.
for a moment, it seems like that sentiment is mirrored. when lunch is called, and you’re stuck in the corner of the canteen, eating lunch alone, joshua hong appears to your side, holding his tray. he smiles at you first, and when he speaks, he speaks softly; you like him instantly, especially when he gets your name right first try, and talks to you about the horror movies you like.
unfortunately, your conversation lasts about five minutes; it’s interrupted by joshua’s actual friends, waving from another table, yelling for him to come join their arm wrestling competition, and someone wants his chocolate milk, and, and, and — because of course, joshua is popular.
he’s also incredibly polite, for a fourteen year old boy, looking between you and his table, eyes torn, mouth twisting. but you make the decision for him; you stuff the last of your food in your mouth — it tastes like cardboard — and you gesture for him to leave, saying, through a dry mouthful, “i’m done anyway, go ahead!”
he leaves then, sending an apologetic smile you pretend not to see. you won’t be pitied, not even by popular guys with nice smiles. but when you walk out the cafeteria, as alone as you were when you walked into it, your silly, young little heart does break a little.
and then it’s glued back together by clumsy fingers the next day. joshua’s in the cafeteria before you, and this time, he waves you over to his table, patting the seat next to him. he introduces you to his friends, who are nice and sweet and funny, and you do like them, you just like joshua that extra little bit more.
ii. the second time ; when you fall, suddenly, completely, absolutely.
by the time junior year rolls around, you and joshua are joined at the hip.
you do everything together. you’re at his house more than your own; his mom calls you the second child she never had; your mom calls him by his nickname; you know his deepest darkest secret, and he knows yours; he’s your favourite person in the world, and as teenagers are apt to do, you’d never willingly tell him such a thing.
“you’re disgusting,” you tell him, whenever he belches, unashamed, on your couch after a horror movie marathon. “you’re the worst!” when he tickles you within an inch of your life, rolling onto the floor with you in a mad tangle of limbs and giggling. “i hate you,” with a smile on your face, when he teases you about a crush or pinches your nose a little too hard.
“you love me,” is always his response — easy, carefree, and the l-word rolls off his tongue so confidently, sometimes you wonder how he does it. but you do love him. as a friend, of course, and nothing more, despite what other people say. at school, people think you’re together — people pull you aside in the locker room, giggling like they’re in on your secret (“so, you like like him, right?”) and nobody believes you guys when you deny it.
“it’s not like that,” you find yourself saying over and over, until it feels like the words are tattooed on your tongue. “he’s just josh, you know?” and he is. he’s just your joshua. nothing more, nothing less, he’s just your person — your best friend.
you manage to convince yourself as well, with those repetitive words, until one day, you find out you can’t.
it’s a sunday, and so of course, he’s singing sunday morning as the two of you stroll down to the park, hands stuffed in your respective pockets. it’s late september, but the dregs of summer are lingering longer this year, and the two of you are drinking them up before autumn rolls around, and strips the greenery bare.
“your obsession with that song needs to be studied,” you say, and it comes easily because you haven’t realised yet.
“your brain needs to be studied,” is his quick retort, as you guys make it to your usual spot.
it’s nothing special, this spot — to an outsider, at least. it’s a crumbling wall to the side of the park, that overlooks a pond (an ugly, swampy looking pond, but a pond nonetheless).
to you and joshua, the deteriorating wall is your Place, with a capital p, because that’s how important it’s become to the two of you. it’s simply. a little bit ugly, but who cares, when you have your whole life stretching in front of you, a wall to sit on, and a best friend to argue over the red gummies with?
“there are five red gummies,” he pronounces, peering inside the pack. “i call dibs on the third!”
“what?” your voice raises automatically. “absolutely not. you had the third one last time.”
“last time there were six!”
“that’s so not fair!” you poke his rib, scowling. “we’ll split it. for justice.”
joshua sighs, long and reluctant, but nods, setting the packet between you — but moments later, when you’ve spiralled down a tangent of cursing out your physics teacher, he swipes down on the third, stuffing it in his mouth with a triumphant, guiltless grin before you can even say stop.
“you’re evil,” you say, slow and shocked, narrowing your eyes at him. “you’re actually fucking evil!”
“sorry,” he says, without the slightest hint of remorse.
“i hate you.” and again, you’re smiling — and so is he, throwing his head back to laugh (because the thought of you hating him is so ridiculous that he has to laugh), and his darn eyes catch the afternoon sunlight at just the right angle, twin pools of honey brown, and you’re drowning in them; and his laughter sounds like music, and his hair’s blowing back in the breeze, and the lines of his face are lighting up golden; and oh, fuck, you’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“you love me,” he says, normally, casually, his ordinary response, but it feels like he’s plucked the sentence straight out your mind, where it had been nothing more than a half-formed sentiment you’d pushed into the corner.
cheeseballs, you think to yourself, breathless, stomach sinking, eyes wide. i think he’s right.
i think i love him, your fifteen year old self thinks, and then your fifteen year old self’s heart breaks.
it’s more painful than the first time. much more.
iii. the third time ; when he leaves (because you push him out the door)
the third time is not like the others. you can’t pinpoint a specific moment; it happens gradually. less of a shattering — more of a slow crushing, like joshua is pressing down on the centre of your chest, slow, heavy, and completely unaware of how blood is spurting from the cracks of your heart.
because he doesn’t know — of course he doesn’t know. and he can’t know now, now that the two of you, as a unit, have become past tense.
you can barely call himself your friend anymore, and it’s entirely your fault.
not even a month after that fateful day in junior year, joshua had gotten himself a girlfriend. and she wasn’t mean and you couldn’t hate her even if you wanted to, she was the sweetest person alive, and had no problem with you; but still, that step did mean other things, like backing off joshua a little. there was another priority in his life now.
they only lasted three months, but it felt significant. it felt like a sign — he’s not yours, he can never be yours, and so even after emily benson and joshua broke up, you kept your distance. then he joined the football team, with seungcheol and mingyu and those guys, and you joined the photography club with wonwoo and seokmin and those guys, and there was suddenly this divide. a line drawn; you were the artist.
because joshua did try, and he definitely tried more than you. he’d invite you over to his house for movie marathons, and you’d decline. he’d wave at you from across the football pitch, and you’d pretend not to see.
you only see his mom in the supermarket now. she still hugs you, calls you her other child. you don’t know what to say to her.
it is, technically, your own fault. self-preservation instincts; because being around joshua hurt like a bitch after that sunday. there was an ache in your heart you’d somehow not noticed for two years, but now that you’d noticed it once, it was there always, a permanent throbbing pain in your chest.
you think of it as losing your heart; you’d given it to joshua without even realising, and he hasn’t realised either. and so the hot, slippery organ is left in his hands, and you don’t know how to get it back.
senior year comes, and it’s clear to everyone that there is no longer a you and joshua. sometimes you get questions about it; “did you guys fight?”, “what even happened? was it emily?”, “did he cheat on you?”, and you answer them all wearily with a smiling front.
just drifted apart, i guess, you always say, paired with a nonchalant shrug, like it doesn’t kill you a little every time you see him.
you wonder what he says, when they ask him. if they even ask him at all.
iii.v half broken, half mended
joshua shows up at your house.
it’s the night before graduation, and if it were a movie, it would be raining when he knocks on your door — but it’s still warm, there’s still faint sunlight behind him, and he’s panting slightly on your doorstep, eyes wide with something you don’t have the time to read before he’s rushing out words, garbled with speed.
you’ve just woken from a nap, and you don’t understand a word he’s saying; you hear a whole lot of “we” and “friends” and before he can get any further, you raise a hand to stop him.
“what — what are you talking about, shua?” you question genuinely, rubbing your sleepy eyes as though this is some sort of twisted dream.
joshua lets out a breath on your doorstep; he looks harried, panicked, like if he doesn’t say everything he needs to, he’s going to explode. but he holds back, inhaling, exhaling, suddenly short of breath at the sight of you, up close after what feels like forever.
“where did you go?” he says finally, and you can hear fifteen year old shua in there, a crack in his voice, emotion leaking into it.
you know what he means, you know exactly what he means, and you don’t have an answer for him. “i didn’t go anywhere,” you reply, voice small. you don’t look at him, because both of you know it’s a lie.
“you did,” he repeats needlessly. “it felt like you left me.”
you don’t have anything to say, and so you stay silent. there are birds chirping, you realise absently, somewhere behind him.
“was there a reason?” his words are growing quicker now, spilling out of him like they’re overflowing; and maybe they are, maybe he’s kept them locked up just as long as you have. “there must have been a reason — you need to tell me, i deserve to know. don’t i?”
his voice is tinged with a sort of raw desperation that pulls at your heart, because no matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise, he’s still your shua, he’s still your person, and you can never hate him.
he deserves to know, and you’re too cowardly to tell him.
joshua waits. (he’s always been the more patient out of you two.) “you won’t tell me,” he realises finally, stepping back just once. “god. fuck. i don’t even know why i came.”
he turns, and you blurt three words that halt him in his tracks. you see the way he freezes on the spot, and so you repeat them again, just so he can be sure.
“i love you,” you say, softly, but he hears you. he hears you and turns around, and his pretty doe eyes are round with confusion.
you don’t realise you’re crying until he wipes away the few that have spilled oit the corners of your eyes; he does it delicately, with hands that tremble a little. they’re unfamiliar in their familiarity, those hands, and the feel of them makes you close your eyes.
both of you are breathing shakily. like you’re on the cusp of something new; something bigger.
“how long?” he asks quietly, hands trailing down to cup your cheeks.
you don’t open your eyes when you speak your next words, pouring from your mouth into the space between you. “since we were fifteen.”
joshua’s quiet for a moment, and when you open your eyes, there’s a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and the ghost of tears filling his eyes. “haha,” he whispers, leaning closer, “i win.” his lips brush against yours, so light and feathery it could barely be called a kiss.
he pulls back, forehead against yours, and smiles, properly this time. “since fourteen,” he says, and it feels like your heart is mended and broken at the same time.
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an / typed this out in an hour of feverish inspiration. idk. 💪
taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya
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solarnomoon · 1 year
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love is an art form — 19
design nineteen,,, indecent
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“yo, heeseung, did you see this?” yn turns his phone towards the other boy as heeseung stops sipping on his drink, allowing heeseung to read it.
the guy laughs, just waving it off, “yeah. seems like we have our own stalkers.”
yn pouts, now turning his body toward heeseung. “you aren’t nervous?”
“for what?”
the boy pauses, just staring at heeseung, “well cause… you know…” he stares at heeseung, hoping he gets it, but he just smiles back. he bites on the straw of his boba before continuing, “cause like… you’re you! and i’m just… me? i dunno, you’re like popular! and stuff.” he takes a sip, watching heeseung carefully.
“and so what?” heeseung scoots his chair closer to yours, gently placing his hand over yours. “i like you, you know?”
"you do...?"
heeseung just looks at the other boy, blank-faced. "uhh... yeah. i was kinda hoping you'd notice...?"
"i just don't really see how you could see me like that. you know?"
"dude. you're cute as fuck. how could i not see you?"
he just closes his eyes and inhales, not knowing how to respond to heeseung. because of this, heeseung scoots closer to him, and when the other boy opens his eyes, heeseung is practically nose to nose with him. "woah!" y/n yells, but instead of moving away, he allows the other to slowly move in on his own lips, feeling the pressure of heeseung's push into his own.
both of the boys close their eyes, allowing the motion of their lips lead their actions. y/n feels heeseung swipe his tongue over his bottom lip and parts his own lips wider to allow heeseung to roam the rest of his mouth.
he takes the opportunity to explore, both tongues colliding in a gentle declaration of passion, with y/n attempting to hold back his own moans with how heeseung is leading him.
a few more moments tick by, but they get interrupted by two voices further away from them: "oh my fucking god. no WAY they're pda-ing in the middle of this boba place," sunghoon's voice rings through the store, which thankfully is empty.
the other voice chimes in right after, "and we came here for what? to tell them that other people are here? i feel like i'm gonna barf..." eunchae creates a gagging noise that sunghoon seems to laugh at.
the two boys over to them and immediately begin to feel embarrassed: y/n grabs his drink and starts drinking and heeseung grabbing his phone and just laughing. "oh! what's going on you guys?" heeseung questions as they pull up two chairs.
"don't act like we didn't just see you guys smooching in the middle of a boba shop. let's cut to the chase, are you dating or not?"
"we're not!" "not yet." they say at the same time, with y/n as the former and heeseung as the latter.
"so when will it be official cause all the girlies seem to think you two are already an item..." eunchae responds, showing them the texts.
y/n just shakes his head, "can we not take it slow or."
both sunghoon and eunchae turn toward each other, "no."
sunghoon reminds him, "again, you guys were practically fucking a second ago."
"it was one kiss."
"looked like fucking to me," sunghoon shrugs, with eunchae and heeseung just laughing.
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˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ ❀
an,,, so... guess who's... arisen! and ready to love write! i swear on my fucking life if i get busy again even though i actually graduated i'm gonna cry. i wanna finish this smau so bad i've had so many ideas and no fucking time. anyway. i lowkey am diverting a lot from my original plan because i don't wanna write angst but whatevs! love you guys lots, thanks for continuing to support me xoxo
taglist (open!): @hyuniiehoney @roulette010 @lovelypitasworld @blehhhidk @curly-fr13s @to-toad @buttersmama @sunshinefox35 @lonewolfjinji @faiired @noredplz @teu-aero @wonyoungsvirus @inarizqkis @thatoneembarrasingmoment @shinsou-rii @ovlmqar @felmierr @mikahrh @xavi-in-kpopland @sunseeking-cryptid
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ronearoundblindly · 2 years
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U've been a literal trooper. All the drabbles are so intriguing, I could never. Can you write a fight and makeup for Steve? Since ure the angst queen this won't be in better hands with anyone else. Happy birthday, hope it's not belated yet?
Thank you for the bday wish, and it was not belated when this came in. My answer, however, is belated. Luckily, I think this is about the third- or second-to-last of the drabble asks...which rarely stayed drabbles. This is no different. >_<
Himbo (Warnings for angst, cursing, and not enough editing probably) ~1.3k
“I’m not stupid,” Steve shouts.
“I never said you were,” you push back without turning around at the sink.
“You called me a himbo.”
“It’s a joke, Steve.”
“Not to me, it’s not. Do you know how that makes me feel? I am all too aware that you have three advanced degrees and the last class I passed was in nineteen-thirty-seven. I don’t need to be reminded that you’re better than me.”
“Better than you?!” You finally round on him with a shriek two octaves too high. “You don’t get reminded every day by reporters and fans across the entire planet how lucky you are to be a complete package of cute little details that belongs to someone else. Thank god I got those three fucking degrees of lord knows I wouldn’t even deserve to be talked about much less date you!
“They go on and on about how I’m not good enough for you, but I make one completely and obviously inaccurate joke about you maybe—possibly—minutely not being good enough for me, and it’s call the fucking fire brigade?! Sorry, but welcome to my world, Rogers.”
“Yeah, but I never said those things to you. And you just said that about me in front of my friends.”
“Oh, so Natasha isn’t my friend, too? Good to know.”
“Keeps, you earned all this. You went to school. You built up your abilities and knowledge and all that.” Steve leans against the countertop, staring at the floor. “I just…didn’t die until some other, highly-intelligent, educated doctor came around and made me.”
“Horseshit, pity party.”
Steve doesn’t look up; he just crosses his arms across his chest.
“Well, the serum clearly didn’t make you better with women, so you’ve had to learn all that yourself—keep workin,’ bub. And the serum didn’t teach you military strategy. And it didn’t teach you empathy.” Your tone eases as you approach him. “It also didn’t magnify your sense of humor, so I’m gonna stick with my earlier statement of you are a himbo.”
You slowly approach and tuck your hand around one prominent and tense forearm. You can feel him breathe heavily. “And I love that about you. It’s one of the only things that makes me feel like we’re equals…because I technically stole Cap from the world. People don’t like to think you don’t belong to all of them, Steve, but if—I mean I take comfort in knowing you’re still like lots of men. I don’t feel like such a cheat then.”
“You’re not a cheat,” he moans, moving his hand to take yours.
“And you’re not dumb, Sketch. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but…I get torn down a lot. I don’t like feeling like I’m down here alone while you’re the Golden Boy on a pedestal because then I think…how can someone way up there think much of me.”
He’s soft, brushing his thumb down each of your fingers. “You know it’s not me though. I don’t say that stuff to you. It’s not true.”
“Steve. When was the last time you outright told a journalist they were wrong about me?” You let him think for a long moment. “Never.”
“Tony always advises us not to engage that kind—“
“You don’t openly defend your fiancé, but I’m supposed to grovel after saying a joke, in private, to one of your best friends who agreed with me and who—both of us—love you, as you damn well know?!”
How you got so riled up again, you’re not sure, but it feels like this is a long time coming. You’ve suppressed a lot of anger towards the media since day one of dating Captain America. You never meant to hurt his feeling or hijack his argument, but it just doesn’t feel fair to apologize for one word after being berated by thousands for months.
Steve returns to leaning against the counter. “I’ve been a media prop before. I’m not going to talk about my private life to make them a buck.”
“But they do make a buck, Steve, and they make it by saying I am the prop.” You want to scream, but instead you force the pressure far away so you can get your point across. “That’s not what I care about though. They’re gonna do or say whatever the hell they want. I can’t change that. You can’t change that. Tony is the only one who legitimately might know how, but still…
“I’m sorry. I was wrong to call you that. I didn’t mean to harm you. I meant—“ you hate admitting this is still something you need “—I only meant to build myself up a little. Just shouldn’t have done it by knocking you down, and I am sorry about that, Sketch.”
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By this time, you’ve stepped back to the other side of the kitchen, hand waving to and fro to help fling off nervous energy.
Steve still doesn’t get—and has never really understood—how you can be so insecure. He sees you be confident one minute and then experiences your deflation as your energy fades. He’s gotten to know a much wider swath of humanity than most, and he struggles constantly with the right words to explain why you are so special to him.
Because it’s everything about you.
It’s anything about you that teaches him something new or shows him a different perspective or reminds him of the good and joy in life. It’s his most desperate wish that he show you what you mean to him, and with any luck he’ll succeed someday. He still doesn’t know how to do that, and it makes him feel like he never will when you call him that name.
People lash out. They aren’t perfect. You aren’t perfect, and he does know that. Hell, he just lashed out because he’s not perfect. He wants to be in your eyes though. He wants to see a magnificent reflection of himself so that he can believe it, too, and tonight, he saw the opposite. He felt small again, he felt rejected, and the worst part was that he felt rejected by you.
Except he’s learning something in the process. 
“I’m sorry, too,” Steve finally says, reaching for your waist. 
The more he thinks about what you’re saying, the more he recalls his own life in the ‘30s. He would watch girls at the dance hall while Bucky flirted. He saw them sit hopeful and ram-rod straight trying to catch the eye of a fella…but Steve’s now thinking about how so many girls didn’t look around at multiple guys. They focused on one, and when that particular fella didn’t make his way over, when each girl felt rejected, she deflated. She wasn’t really interested in just being nice to everyone who did approach for niceness’ sake. She just wanted to feel seen by the guy she was interested in letting see her.
It’s exactly the same thing he always sought out: the right partner. Steve may not have been as active searching for her, but they were all looking for something real.
No one wants to accept less.
No one wants to be less than what the right partner deserves.
“Call me whatever you want, doll. I can take it.” Steve relish how different it is to be around you versus everyone else. You make him so excited and so nervous and so calm. You’re just right for him, and he hates to think you don’t know that every second of every day. 
“Just please, Keeps, promise me something?”
He waits until you whine a little in acknowledgment.
“Tell me when you feel this way. I’ll talk you right back up to the sky.” He nudges you to raise your head and look at him. “I’ll do that all day…for you.”
And then Steve captures your lips for an oh-so-tender, bone-rattlingly passionate kiss that only a bimbo would mistake for anything short of true love.
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Note
for your kisses fic prompt
35. …to gain something.
hi, sorry this took me so long to get to! got busy with work and summer classes and life stuff and then writer's block happened for a bit. but anyway! here's:
35. ...to gain something
“So let me get this right,” Blaine says, needing to restate the puzzle pieces of what Kurt just told him for himself. “You have a third date with this guy this weekend, and if it goes well again, you want to kiss him, but you don’t feel confident that you know how to kiss someone, so you want to kiss me to gain confidence.”
“Yes,” Kurt answers, nothing but serious. “I know it sounds…”
“A little insane?”
“Yeah, I know it sounds insane but…” Kurt lets out a sigh, finally stops his frantic pacing since he’d burst into their shared dorm, and takes a seat on the edge of his bed. “It’s embarrassing. I’m nineteen years old and I’ve never properly kissed a guy. Everyone else has had a proper first kiss by now…”
“Kurt…”
“No, please don’t—”
“If this guy is any decent, he won’t judge you for not having a proper first kiss yet. There’s plenty of people who don’t have a proper first kiss until college.”
“Are there really?” 
“Well, I can’t speak from personal experience, but…”
“It’s stupid that I’m embarrassed about it, isn’t it?”
“It’s not stupid.”
Before he can try to convince his roommate otherwise, Kurt starts spiraling. “It is. It’s stupid and insane and… Pointless. It’s pointless! I’m already embarrassed about the fact that I haven’t properly kissed a guy, and that’s not gonna change, and then I won’t be able to kiss him, and then maybe I just won’t be able to kiss a guy ever and—”
“Okay,” Blaine stops him. “I’ll do it.” It’s nothing but sincere.
“What?”
“I’ll kiss you. If it’ll help you be more confident with this guy, then I’ll do it. But we both have to promise that this won’t make anything weird between us, we’re still gonna be just…great friends after this, yeah?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Why would it make anything weird? You’re just helping me out as a friend and a really great roommate.”
“Just bros helping bros.” 
“Bros helping— yeah, no, I’m not repeating that.” 
“Okay. Just…come over here,” Blaine says, patting the empty space next to him on his own bed as Kurt crosses the room to sit next to him. “You want to be the one to kiss him, right?” he continues.
“Yeah. I mean…I think so.”
“Rule Number One: don’t be nervous about it. I know you can be confident, so..be confident. If you want to kiss him, then just go for it. Ask permission first, but– you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I get it. …Can I kiss you?” Kurt asks, slightly biting at his bottom lip. Blaine nods and lets his eyelids slide closed as Kurt’s lips meet his own and Kurt’s hands come up to sort of cradle his face. He kisses back, but it takes just about everything in him to fight that pull in his chest that makes him want to just keep kissing Kurt again and again. Maybe, if they weren’t roommates or best friends, or if Kurt wasn’t going out with another guy, that could happen. But it can’t right now. Because they’re just friends and because he’s just doing this to help Kurt gain confidence. It doesn’t matter what other feelings he has for Kurt. He doesn’t need to know that.
“Was that…okay?” Kurt asks, cheeks flushed, when they break apart. 
“That was…” Amazing, breathtaking, and I think that’s the best kiss I’ve had maybe ever are all thoughts that come to mind. Instead, he continues: “Yeah! Yeah, that was..great! I mean, like, ‘great’ in the totally objective ‘you’re gonna be absolutely fine kissing him’ type of ‘great.’ Like, I don’t know why you were so nervous about that. Um, excuse me, I’m just gonna..go down to the common room for a minute, um, see if there’s anything good snack-wise or… I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay? Have fun I guess?” 
Blaine rushes out of their dorm in a way that seems as much like he’s not rushing out as possible even though he feels like he might just combust. Once he’s on the other side of the door, he lets himself slide down the hallway wall to sit on the floor and breathe for a minute. 
Why did he agree to kiss Kurt? Yes, he wanted to help him out, but he should have known better, given his feelings for his roommate that said roommate does not and cannot know about. He should have known that kissing him was only going to amplify the feelings he’s been shoving down and hoping would just go away for…however long he’s been crushing hopelessly on Kurt. He should have known that, as much as he can try to convince himself that what happened wouldn’t make things weird, the fact that they kissed is probably, definitely, going to make things weird. For him, at least. He’s an idiot, isn’t he?
kiss list | more kisses
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Clip Show: Part Two
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader
Word Count: ~1.9k
Warnings: canon angst and violence
Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated.
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Your phone rings, and you answer it after seeing Castiel's name on it. This will upset Dean even more, so you step off to the side to answer it.
"Is everything okay?" you ask. "How are the kids?"
"Protected. I'm damaged, sure, but I can protect your kids."
"What do you need, then?"
"What does Dean like? I'm at the store and figured I can have food waiting by the time you three get home."
"Oh, that's very nice of you. Well, he loves cherry or apple pie. Beer is his go-to drink, but he loves an expensive whiskey. He loves cheeseburgers, so if you get the ingredients, I can make them when we get home. He loves bacon. Maybe get him a porn magazine or two. He loves that stuff."
"Thank you."
"Hey, would it be possible to do that thing you did on my ribs to my kids'? If monsters wanted to get to me, they'd go through them. I don't want anyone finding them."
"Yes, of course. I'll make sure it's as painless as possible."
"Thank you, Castiel. You're one of the good ones," you whisper.
"I appreciate that."
"I'll call you later," you say when you see Father Thompson coming back.
Once you have everything in hand, it's back to the Bunker you go. However, when you get there, Castiel and the kids are nowhere to be found.
"Castiel? Joanna?" you call out.
"Great, you left our kids in the hands of a psycho person and now they're gone. Are you happy now?" Dean says angrily.
"Don't panic just yet. They're probably out. Castiel did call me saying he was picking up food... eight hours ago."
"Can't we have another angel track them?" Sam offers.
"What other angel do we know?"
"I kind of asked Castiel to brand their ribs like ours so they couldn't be traced," you say slowly.
"Fucking unbelieveable. That's just awesome, Y/N."
"Dean, you need to calm down. I feel them, okay? My magic connects to them. They are alive and well. I'd feel it if they were hurt or--"
You stop yourself from saying that word. Seconds later, your kids appear in the Bunker without Castiel. He must have dropped them off and gone to someplace else. Dean rushes to his kids and brings them in his arms, kissing both of them.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes Daddy. We went shopping," Joanna grins.
"See? They're fine," you breathe a sigh of relief.
"For now."
You three look through the boxes for something that's usable.
"You think Cas blew town?" Sam asks.
"Sounds like him." Dean looks through a box and finds a tape recorder taped to a journal. "It turns out that Father Thompson recorded all of his demon-cure tests. This one here was the last one--two days before he died."
Dean plays the recording for everyone to hear.
"The date is August 3, 1958. This is trial nineteen, hour one. My subject is Peter Kent. Mr. Kent is the father of two young sons, and three weeks ago, he was possessed by a demon. I'm going to ask you a question now. When you crawled into Mr. Kent and ate his children, how did it feel?"
"Orgasmic," the demon snarls.
There is some struggle, and the demon groans in pain.
"The first dose has been administered."
"Do we know what Father was dosing him up with?"
"His own purified blood."
"Purified? How?"
"Before he started, Father Thompson went to confession."
"This is trial nineteen, hour two. When you ate his children, how did it feel?"
"Stringy!" The demon yells, groaning in pain again.
"The second dose has been administered. Hour four. When you ate his children--"
"Kiss my ass!"
"How did it feel?"
"Soft. Aaah!!"
"The sixth dose has been administered."
"Stop," the demon begs.
"How did it feel?"
Dean skips through some of the recording through the session, stopping towards the end.
"Hour eight, the subject is prepped. When you ate his children, how did it feel?"
"They were screaming... and I laughed. Why did I laugh? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. God, I was a monster," the demon sobs.
"But now you are a man again, and you have been saved."
"Did he just cure a demon?" you ask slowly.
"Apparently. Could we take this hoodoo on a test drive?"
"I mean, I have the exorcism right here. All we need is the blood, consecrated ground, and a demon. So, what? Do we summon a demon and trap it?" Sam asks.
"Or we use one that we've already tagged. Do we still have dad's old army field surgeon's kit?"
"It's in the trunk, why?"
"Yeah, I think it's time we put humpty dumpty back together again."
"No, I do not agree with this. She killed all those people back then. She does not deserve to be put back together," you say.
"Two against one," Dean says.
You know this is a really bad idea, but you go with them anyway to make sure they are safe. Abaddon is bad news, and putting her together just to cure her is only going to end up with people dying.
"Can I just say this is a really bad idea? Let me go on the record that when this blows up in our face, I was against this the whole time."
"Do you really think this will work?" Sam asks, ignoring you.
"Dude, we have needles and thread. We've seen 'Young Frankenstein' about a thousand times. Yeah, we're golden."
Sam and Dean dig up Abaddon's body and recover her head. It's disgusting, but Dean sews her head back on. The only thing he doesn't sew back on are her hands. They're still locked inside a box, but the box has been recovered just in case.
"This isn't a good idea," you say for the fifth time.
Once Abaddon has her head screwed on tightly, she opens her eyes. She cracks her neck and sighs in relief.
"Morning, sunshines," she grins.
"It worked. You owe me a beer," Dean nudges Sam.
"I owe you three so, so much. I can't wait to tear out those pretty green eyes."
"For the record, I was against this," you point out.
"It's going to be kind of hard to do that. We figured kitty didn't need her claws," Dean smirks.
Abaddon looks down to see her hands are missing.
"Then I'll stump you to death. It'll be swell."
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen, either. The bullet, remember? So, you sit there like a good little bitch. We're gonna consecrate the ground, and you're gonna get to fessing up."
"Oh, I know this tune," she grins. "Father Max Thompson, born October 12, 1910. Died August 5, 1958. Who do you think ripped him apart? Word got back to the home office that Maxie was messing with things, so we made an example. It wasn't my most artful kill, but it was effective. Plus, before he died, he told me all about Josie Sands. I found her, and I rode her into the Men of Letters, and what I did to them, that was art."
"So, you know what Max was doing?"
"Fella screamed the basics, but it'll never work."
"You keep telling yourself that."
Dean's phone rings, and he sees it's Crowley calling. You know this because the caller ID reads "666".
"Hello, boys."
"What do you want, Crowley?"
"Crowley? The salesman?"
"Try the King of Hell," you state.
"This is a joke, right?"
"Stay."
Dean and Sam leave the warehouse to take the call, but you're worried about leaving Abaddon on her own. Something is going to go wrong, you know it.
"If it wasn't a good idea to bring her back to life, it's sure as hell not a good idea to leave her alone," you shout after them.
"Then you stay with her," Dean says back.
You look at Abaddon and she grins widely at you.
"Nice kids... I bet they taste delicious."
"Mama," Joanna whimpers.
"Fuck this."
You take Joanna's hand and lead her outside to where the brothers are."
"How'd you get this number?" Sam asks the King.
"This isn't a social call. I was wondering. Have you three been reading the papers, say, Denver Times from yesterday? No? Well, you should. It's side-splitting. What the hell, I'm sexting you an address. Check it out, then we'll talk. Cheerio."
"Wait, what? Crowley?"
Crowley hangs up before giving more information. Dean pulls his phone away to look at the text he sent.
"Here it is. Vic's name is Tommy Collins. Tommy. Why do I know that name?"
"Tommy Collins is someone we saved from a Wendigo like forever ago," you say, remembering the events like it was yesterday.
"Tommy." You heard Hayley say and she started crying, going over to her brother who was hanging from the ropes. You were too far away to see if he was alive or not.
"I wouldn't do that." You warned Hayley when she reached to touch her brother's cheek. She didn't listen and did it anyway. You watched to see what would happen and jumped, startled when Tom jerked awake.
"Cut him down!" Hayley demanded of Sam.
You saved him, and now he's dead because of Crowley.
"Okay, you think that Crowley blew his head off? What are we dealing with here? Some sort of Demon-Wendigo team-up?"
"I don't know."
"We'll pour one out for Tommy later. As far as Crowley goes, fuck him. We have everything we need to put him in a permanent time-out."
You three head back inside, and just like you predicted, Abaddon is gone... and so are her hands.
"Shit! She's gone! Son of a bitch!" Dean yells.
"Is it too late to say 'I told you so'?"
"Shut up," Sam and Dean say at the same time. Sam's phone rings, and he checks the message that Crowley sends him. "It's a text message from Crowley with an address in Prosperity, Indiana."
"Prosperity? Didn't we work a case there? Yeah, the one with the witches and the baked goods. Is he going after somebody there now?"
"I don't know. We have to check it out."
"You know it's a trap."
"Of course it is, but a trap means demons, and we can use one right now."
Since Crowley put a timer on these people's lives, Dean tries to get there as soon as possible. However, soon is not soon enough. You barge into the house, but the damage has already been done. Jenny Klein is lying dead with her corpse burned by the oven.
"Jenny Klein's next. I swiped her photo off a hex deck, but Maggie's gonna notice it's gone eventually. We got to get over to Jenny's."
There is no time to waste. Jenny could already be dead for all you know. You haven't looked at the clock to see how long it took Dean to drive there, but you know it didn't take more than ten minutes. The normal thing to do is knock on the door and wait until she answers, but this isn't one of these times. You bust down the door to her house to see a true tragedy happening.
Jenny is at her sink choking on something red. There are fresh cupcakes on the counter with one with a bite taken out of it. They look like red velvet cupcakes, but you knew that's not the red stuff you see Jenny choking on and throwing up. There is a bleeding heart in the cupcake that she took a bite out of. The other cupcakes aren't touched, but you know they have tiny hearts in them as well. Sam and Dean rush to Jenny to try and help her while you search for the coin.
"Find the coin, now," Dean yells.
You don't argue with him this time. You could search through the cabinets manually in hopes you can find the coin in time. However, your magic will do a faster job of finding it than you will. Immediately, a blue mist forms at your fingertips. You use your right hand to spread your magic around like a big blue misty cloud. It starts at the nearest cabinet and works its way throughout the kitchen.
As soon as the magic finds the coin, it stays in that spot until you can grab it. You snatch the coin from its hiding place and lay it flat on your right palm. Your magic heats up the coin until it dissipates into thin air. As soon as the coin was destroyed, Jenny felt a lot better.
"Are you okay?" you ask her, but she doesn't answer.
"Shit, we were too late," you sigh.
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Answers?
No TWs as far as I'm aware :). sorry for the wait, ADHD wanted to watch ppl play horror games lmao
@cupcakes-and-pain @maracujatangerine here ya go <3. Set before Promotion?
The detective wasn’t answering any of my calls, which is odd. I know he’s been pretty focused, but it doesn’t make the sudden ghosting make sense. He hasn’t even showed up for Burger time, and his coworkers said he’s busy trying to get a promotion. Apparently he’s been trying for a while now. I’m not sure why he needs one, though, cuz he can pay for really cool clothes for me and weekly burger times, so it’s not like he’s short on money. I think, at least. I haven’t been to his apartment ever, so maybe he’s just using all of his money on other stuff?
“Ghost? How long have you been sitting in Gunner’s office?” Oh, it's the secretary person. I like how red her hair is, it’s like apples or a lighter shade of blood. She’s nice, and doesn’t scream when I bring my little critters in. 
“I dunno, like an hour or so. Why? Also, has Detective responded yet? I haven’t seen him in like a whole week, which isn’t very long but he missed Burger time, and that’s just illegal. He’s never done this before, what if he doesn’t come back? Wait, he has to, he works here. Can I have a snack, please? There’s only fruit gummies in here and those are the worst. Is Mr. Detective Gunner Sir Bossman okay? I don’t like that he’s ignoring me.” I asked, staring at Ms. Secretary and playing with the rubix cube I pulled from the drawer. Detective is really likes to get things for people, I think, cuz the one unlocked drawer always has toys and snacks, but he hasn’t been restocking it, cuz the only things left are gummies and gummies are evil.
Ms. Secretary just smiled and said she’ll get me another snack, that’s nice. She didn’t answer if the Detective that is Gunner had responded or reappeared, though, and it’s weird. Why does nobody say anything? I just wanna know what’s going on. Then they get mad at me, when they refused to say anything in the first place. If you don’t want me snooping around, don’t be so cryptic and rude.
  Wait, I can just find answers myself. I forgot about that, but whatever. Detective is always here during work hours but I’m sleeping then usually, so maybe if I stay up later to watch for him? Then I can hop in his car while he’s busy and he’ll take me to wherever he’s been hanging out at. I get a free car ride, and find out where he’s been. The car ride is the best, because I can just sit and stare out the window and nobody expects me to do or say anything. It’s really nice and even better when the window is rolled and the air is rushing around the car. I like the wind, it feels really nice against my face. Makes me feel like I can fly, and wouldn’t that be so cool? I wanna fly, just hang out in the air and float around the city. No one would ever be able to reach me and-
Ms. Secretary walks back in, with a box of chocolate pretzels and I immediately zero in on them, dropping the rubix cube. Chocolate pretzels are the best, better than everything ever. She hands them to me, and tells me to “take care of yourself, kiddo” like I'm not a whole eighteen years old, and walks back out. Actually, wait, my birthday is tomorrow, so I’m almost nineteen! Maybe I can get Detective to tell me what he’s been up to all this time? It would be nice to know, cuz Detective has been gone for forever, and before that he was snappy and almost yelled at me which was scary. I hope he’s better now, I hate it when people yell. Makes me think I’m gonna get locked in the freezer again, and it's the worst feeling ever. But Detective wouldn’t do that to me, cuz he said he wouldn’t and Detective doesn’t lie. Unless it’s to the weird Feds, then he does, but never to me.
I shove another pretzel in my mouth and stare at the picture of Detective and his car. Wait, I can use that. He only has one car, unless he uses one of the precinct vehicles, and he wouldn’t use a precinct vehicle if he wants to hide, would he? Those are always tracking, said one of his friends, so they're not good for hiding. His car is a dark blue, which is the best color, but it also has some neon green and pink on the top from when I found some paint and got bored. On a side note, I’m no longer allowed to be unsupervised around paint or glitter. Rude. Anyways, there’s bright paint on the top, and I can just run around the rooftops until I find his car! It’ll haveta be somewhere, and even if I don’t find it I can go back to my warehouse. Wait, maybe Detective is near there? The warehouses are really nice to hide stuff in cuz they’re so big, and also no one ever checks on them without an actual, important reason. It’s nice, I never get bothered.
I chomp into the last pretzel, and get up to throw the box away. Chocolate pretzels never last long, they should make bigger boxes and I should get them for free. I meander out of the precinct, towards the apartments. The fire escapes there are always unlocked, and no one ever cares as long as I don’t stop on any of the landings. The apartment building itself is cool, all brick, and it's painted purple and green. It has people at the doors though, so I haven’t been able to enter it, sadly. Oh well, I’ll get in eventually. The fire escape is rusty and creaky and old, but it can be quiet if you’re really, really careful. I walk around to the alleyway that leads to the fire escape, then climb the stairs. Normally I’d just launch myself up but last time Detective yelled at me, so I don't wanna do it again. He said he was just scared for me, but yelling is really scary, too, so I dunno what he’s talking about. It’s not like I would fall either, cuz I was doing that since forever but now I can’t.
I finally reach the roof, and start running to the opposite edge. I jump at the very edge of the building, and land in a roll on the next building. I like jumping roofs, it’s fun and no one follows you, and it’s really, super fast if you know where you’re going cuz no one can stop you and nothing is in your way. Except maybe a fence sometimes, but it was really dark and raining that time so it’s not my fault that I fell off the roof. But fences aren’t common, so it’s easy to remember where they are and how to avoid them. Why would you put a fence on the roof? It just gets in the way and makes everything harder. It’s not like roofs ever hold anything important or expensive, y’know? It’s rude and in-con-sid-er-ate. I can say the best words, can’t I?
I slow down just a bit, cuz I can see my warehouse now, so I don’t need to go as fast. It has nothing to do with how hard I’m breathing, not at all. I glance around at some of the neighboring warehouses, but I can’t see very well, so I move to jump to the next roof. I spend a while running around checking everything out, but I still don’t see Detective’s car. I do find Muffin’s Marvels, so obviously I go down to ask for a cake. What the heck?! Why’re they closed, it’s not even that late. Wait, what time is it anyways? I pull out my little flip phone and see that it’s 11:53 PM. Oh, I’ll be nineteen in seven minutes, fun. I trot away from the cake shop, heading towards my warehouse. After getting back on the roofs, of course. I jump roofs, until I spot a flick of green in the corner of my eye. I land wrong, and my ankle is not happy about that, actually. After making sure I didn’t shatter my bones, I peek over to try and find the green I saw. I can’t find it from here, so I jump down into the mattress that has never been moved from the dumpster it's in. It’s still pretty good though, just stinky. I wander through the alleyway, trying to find any green at all. I don’t find anything, but there’s a weird shed thingie next to a warehouse so I go to check it out. It looks old and weird, like everything else. People really like to abandon stuff in abandoned places, it’s weird. Maybe they’re trying to make the abandoned place look nicer, but honestly it just makes me feel like someone was forgotten, and that makes me really sad so I don’t think about it anymore. Wait, isn’t that Detective’s car? Why is it hidden? And why so late? 
Well, I know how I was able to see it at the very least. There isn’t a roof on this shed. Why would you place your car here, it’s not even protected that well, yknow? I wanna explore more, but my phone beeps at me, the alarm Detective set on it going off. Aw, I don’t wanna go to bed now, I just found the Detective. I pout at my phone until I let out a yawn and remember I have chocolate milk at my warehouse. I’m only going back for the chocolate milk, not because I’m tired, not at all. I never get tired, ever. I don’t trip, or get tired, or anything ever cuz I’m just that good. Obviously. 
I finally reach my warehouse, and immediately grab my chocolate milk from the cooler Ms. Secretary gave me. It’s filled with ice, and keeps my chocolate milk cold so it doesn’t get gross and icky. Also warm milk is an abomination and anyone who warms their milk up willingly is wrong and gross and icky and should be jailed forever. I twist open the cap, sipping some as I flop onto the little bed-nest I made when I first found this place. My bed-nest is the bestest bed ever, cuz it’s warm and soft, and it has all sorts of colors. Blue is still the best color, but I like it when things have lots of colors, too, cuz it’s always fun to look at. I yawn again, laying further back and drinking the rest of my chocolate milk. I’m not tired at all, no siree. These blankets are just really warm and soft and nice, and I can’t help but nuzzling into them. Detective can wait until tomorrow, after all. He won’t mind.
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twdmusicboxmystery · 1 year
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FTWD 8x04: King County
Okay, so episode 4 of Fear was REALLY interesting. I had heard about Morgan going back to King County.
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And remember what I said about the foreshadowing of them bringing up King County in episode 1? TD correctness strikes again!
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But seriously. I thought it was a little abrupt to suddenly have him all the way back in King County, but clearly Fear is trying to accomplish a LOT in this final season with very few episodes. Because I think it’s leading to a re-merging of the shows and the CRM war (which =s Beth), I’ll give them a pass.
So, Morgan returns to the house where he lived with Duane after he and Rick parted ways in S1. And we learn some interesting things. These are things we could possibly have gleaned from earlier episodes, especially Morgan’s cray-cray rambles, but they weren’t super-firmly confirmed.
We already knew that his wife, Jenny, in walker form, bit and therefore killed Duane. But what happened next was always murky. Here, we learn that Morgan left Duane in the house as a walker, and never put him down. So, he wants to return to King County and put Duane down, and properly bury him.
Fair enough.
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Here’s the kicker, though. Lots of things go on in this episode. There’s Padre stuff and Sherry/Dwight stuff. By the time Morgan actually makes it into the house to put Duane down, we’re more than half way through the episode. And when he goes in…Duane is not there. Jenny is. He obviously put her down when she bit Duane (and he says as much when telling the story) but Walker-Duane is gone.
Sound a little like what we’ve always said happened with Beth? That when Daryl/TF returned to bury her, she was gone, and they assumed she turned and wandered away. Now, in Duane’s case, he truly WAS a walker, but it’s still a parallel to what happened with Beth during those missing 17 days, even if she wasn’t one.
So as it turned out, Morgan left Walker-Duane in the attic of a yellow house. Yes, yellow. Very important color for Beth. But Morgan didn’t remember doing that. He’d been in his grief/cray-cray mode and must have repressed it.
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The point is, we have a memory issue here. Things didn’t happen the way Morgan remembered. He was remembering them incorrectly. It’s something my fellow theorists harp on a lot. We’ve long said that Coda was told from Rick’s POV, not Beth’s. And that TF, because of their grief, may be remembering things incorrectly. That’s why there are missing scenes. Yes, it’s totally because the writers don’t want us to know what happened, yet. But from TF’s point of view, it’s because they’re repressing things and honestly don’t remember everything that went down in S5. Which is why they can’t see that Beth might actually have survived.
I rewatched that scene where Duane is revealed. I’m not sure what the significance of the attic is, except that it’s an unseen, out-of-the-way place where Morgan didn’t originally think to look for Duane. So whether it was the attic, the basement, or some hidden, back room, the symbolism would still be the same, overall.
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I also noticed that walker-Duane in this episode is missing an eye. (Sirius). He’s also wearing a red hoodie. Now, this is interesting. I was immediately reminded of this walker:
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This is from S6, and Nicholas says he was a young man—like 19 *coughs* Beth’s age in S5 *coughs*--who Nicholas and Aiden left behind at one point. Literally, Nicholas says, "he was on my crew. He was nineteen. We left him behind." Sounds like Beth to me.
This walker, whose name was Will, a name we also saw recently in FTWD, also wore a red hoodie and was missing an eye. It’s a symbol they use a lot in the show, I think. It represents someone who was sacrificed and left behind.
So, two ties here. The red garment in Beth’s cell. While she wasn’t being sacrificed and left behind in that scene, it foreshadowed that she would be. They already had her arc figured out as 4x01 and the Bethyl hug happened. (Which incidentally is why it’s total bullsh*t that they would just change direction and kill her off, as so many people tried to make us believe.)
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The other thing is that there are instances from S1 where Duane was also wearing a red hoodie. Now, we see him in it, as a walker, with a missing eye. I can’t help but wonder if Duane wasn’t character zero for where this symbolism came from.
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Anyway, I’m not going to go into tons of details about this episode. That was the biggest thing. Morgan had some really interesting lines that could easily apply to Beth during those missing 17 days. “He must have gotten out.” “I waited too long.” “I couldn't put him to rest back then, and I can't put him to rest, now.”
Whether he speaks them or not, surely Daryl thought the same kinds of things during those 17 days after Coda when Beth’s body went missing.
What did everyone else think of this episode?
@wdway:
I watched it yesterday and need to watch it again. Agree with what you said above. I also felt they were showing that what we think we knew about a storyline isn't always true. What we think we saw at Grady/Coda might not be true. I think they’re already setting up the cliffhanger about the cure for the mid-season episode.
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I was really surprised that they didn't use a more inland setting for Rick's hometown. The palm trees and the brick roads in the neighborhood screamed Savannah not your typical Georgia town.
@galadrieljones:
Just watched it during my long layover on the way home. The episode gave me so many scares.
I agree it is a bit of a shame they couldn’t manage to film in the Atlanta area. The interior set, however, is the same set used in the pilot. I loved the lonely cup on the table where Rick, Morgan, and Duane had their last supper. Made me think of the holy grail.
I also got a lot of vibes, re: WHAWGO, Grady, Missing 17 Days, Still. No time right now to talk, but I really look forward to hearing your thoughts!
There’s a lot of weird discrepancies with the house that remind me of Find Me. For example, see how there’s a clock in the old shot w Rick above? There’s no clock in the new shot. An interesting entry into the “missing time” motif. Lots of stuff is missing from the house, like Leah’s place in Find Me. Like where is all the furniture, etc.? No U-hauls in the apocalypse. Morgan and Daryl and messed up memories makes me wonder about the truth.
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@wdway, I like your initial reading that they are teaching us here that the story were told isn’t necessarily true, or it’s not the whole story.
Like so what did Morgan go through? He put Duane on a leash and dragged him back to the yellow house? He tied him up in the attic like some old gothic horror novel. I wonder how king he was there with Duane, “playing house.” Yikes. Reminds me of the Governor and Penny.
It’s a good metaphor for how we hide our demons in the most far-removed places from our minds. The dead child in the attic.
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Did Daryl take Beth somewhere with the intent to put her down before she turned, but he couldn’t? Did he see signs of life and choke, thinking he was crazy?
And even while the Dwight and Sherry stuff felt pretty tacked on to me in the episode, I was reminded of how Dwight also once returned to his and Sherry’s old house, looking for her and all he found was her ghost and a clue. Their house was yellow, too. And the house in On the Inside is yellow, only that house is also empty, a bait and switch. Maggie is hiding under the floorboards next door.
I did enjoy Finch’s little escape show tho. Cute little stealthy baby bird lol.
@wdway:
I need to go back and watch it again. What a great catch about the clock. I'm sure if you had not watched the one with Rick you would have missed it and that would have been a shame. And what is replaced from the clock is three candles. It looks like two white and one creamy yellow. The same color as the Holy Grail cup. Love your interpretation of that glass, so spot on. Should we point out the fact that there's three chairs. I couldn't help but think of all the empty chairs that we saw in s11.
@galadrieljones:
I need to watch it again too! And yeah, it was cool to have seen Days Gone Bye just the other day.
Good call on the empty chairs. I just can’t stop picturing Daryl somehow being back in Atlanta at the funeral home, staring at the table where he and Beth had had their last supper all those years ago.
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valerie · 5 months
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TWITL - week 1 - Happy 2024
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I had some webhosting drama and didn't get to post this weekend so I'm starting this on Sunday night but I have to go to bed soon so I'm not even sure why I'm starting this post now. I'm hoping to get it uploaded sometime Monday but we shall see! My webhost drama started the other day when I tried accessing my site and I kept getting the 509 error message. Somehow I'd reached my bandwidth limit. How?! My website is hardly high traffic and yet I somehow hit the limit via http. Perhaps it has to do with the all the failed logins I found once I was able to get back into my site? Whatever it was, I realized it was time to upgrade my site. My previous plan no longer existed and I was fast approaching some of the limits so I went with a plan that costs much more but I didn't feel like looking for another webhost, especially since I've been with the same one for NINETEEN years and they've been pretty solid this whole time. Also, I've been kiari.com for how long?! https://flic.kr/p/2pr8ej2 remnants of an Old Fashioned Working three days the second week of break is really the best way to ease into work life after the holidays. It didn't even really feel like "work" because I had very few interruptions and I was able to just get on with what I needed to do. Work never stops, of course, so I'm sure there will be stuff on my desk when I go in today. MOVIES/TV Monarch: Legacy of Monsters - I am seriously enjoying this show. I do get annoyed with some of the characters and they almost take me out of the story but the ones who make sense to me keep me intrigued. Some of plot points seemed obvious but it was nice to say, "Ha, I knew it!" at a couple of reveals. Can't wait to see how the season ends and if it's meant to be more than just one or if it's one of those "event" type series. Barbie - I know, what took me so long to watch this movie? Well, finally pressed play and watched. It was good! Very well done and I get all the hype about it. Ryan Gosling will always be my favorite and I thought he did a great job on this movie, even if I found his Ken a little cringey at times. There are so many layers to the movie and it's not all light hearted and superficial. I think you can get as much out of it as you like... Percy Jackson and the Olympians - I have read all the Percy Jackson books so I was very excited when this show was announced.. The season so far has lived up to my expectations, from the casting of the characters to the action and plot. I look forward to each episode's drop and I know I'll be more than a little sad when it's over. I hope it's getting more than the first season. Go watch! https://flic.kr/p/2pqqLxn Random musings... - I lost an earring a couple of weeks ago at work, which made me sad because I'd had the earring for years, probably decades. I resigned myself to its loss, lamenting a little before moving on. This morning at work, we were taking down the holiday decorations and one of my last moves was moving the fake tree back to its place. I looked down and lo, there was earring! Aside from the realization that our office hadn't been vacuumed in awhile (at least two weeks or more), I was so happy to have my earring back! It's the little things sometimes... - I've been using the Hipstamatic app on my iPhone and using those pictures as my picture of the day so far in 2024. Not sure how long this will go on but I do like the way Hipstamatic surprises me with its filters. - I do hope that I write every week on my blog. We'll see how it goes! https://flic.kr/p/2pqmsWS Sometimes I wish I treated this blog more as a diary than I do. I have words swirling in my head, opinions and observations that I wouldn't mind sharing but I don't. I keep them in a private document but sometimes, I want to set those thoughts out into the world. I'm not clever enough to keep them vague though so I leave them in a place where only can read them. Ah well... Read the full article
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jreynoldsward · 10 months
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Writing Accountability Post #28
No, I didn't go into the woods to write last week, though we did pick huckleberries one day and plan to go out again.
But I did get some minor stuff done--started planning The Cost of Power trilogy so that I can draft it out and do rapid release with it next year. I'm also going to do this with the Goddess's Vision trilogy.
Looking back on the week, it seems like there wasn't a lot that got done, but there was. It just wasn't all about writing words. In some cases, it was about editing and promotion. I lined up some advertising and did an interview, plus set up a cover reveal for Fabulist and Fantastical Worlds. I also did some research involved with the Cost of Power trilogy, and have scads of notes to incorporate into planning. Oh, if this is even half of what I have been considering, it's gonna be nice.
The other thing that is going on is that I'm now getting back to semi-consistent journaling. I'm doing it mostly at night, kind of a summary of the day. Of course I also get ideas that I need to jot down. Journaling is a good thing, because it usually means I'm ready to be poking at ideas and ruminating over drafting. I need it as a check on my progress so that I am on top of it.
What didn't get done is anything to do with Goddess's Vision, or Dragons of the Raven Alliance. With Vision, it's just a matter of taking time to make those notes and plans. I know it'll be like The Cost of Power once I get started with brainstorming--the ideas will flow, and before long, I'll be ready to start drafting.
Raven, however...part of the problem is just working out the dynamics. I'm not sure where I'm going with that story, and I have to redo the worldbuilding foundations, which will mean revising the foundational story but if that's what it takes for it to work, then that's what it takes. Plus I'm not sure if I'm serializing it on Vella yet. We'll have to see how that plays.
I think Federation Cowboy is going to be pushed back to an October release date but I'm not positive about that just yet.
The new computer glasses have made a significant difference in reducing my eyestrain--I somewhat needed them before the cataract surgery, but wanted to give my eyes time to adjust. The new glasses also have a blue blocker and that's wonderful. It really does make a difference, and the coating is also anti-glare.
One thing I have decided is that I'm going to ease off in August. I have been working hard and it's a good time to catch my breath. I want to plan and structure these upcoming stories and get it done properly, plus do research on new marketing and sales options for this fall. Additionally, since I'm planning two trilogies, I have the time to create a proper marketing plan for both of them.
There's also a bunch of non-writing, life stuff going on, some that I can talk about, some not. One that I haven't really been discussing is the world of horses. Mocha is declining, and it's happening quicker than I like to see it this summer. Now maybe the move to new pasture yesterday will help, but then again, she'll have a quick improvement, then further decline. Oh, she still looks good, but energy levels are fading. I don't know. Something happened with her in March-April, and she just hasn't pulled out of it. Nothing that required a vet visit, and when she did go for her routine shots and checkup in May, she passed everything with flying colors. But there was just something. Sigh. It'll be eighteen years together in two weeks. Will we make it to nineteen? Will she make it to her twenty-fourth birthday? I don't know.
In any case, I do a test ride on a new horse tonight. If he works out, Mocha goes on full retirement. And I'll probably do that anyway.
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amoveablejake · 1 year
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19 Degrees
Centigrade, obviously. 
First off I should say that I did think about making this a Jake Reviews piece as it sort of is about one central thought but then really by making a focused piece that would go against one of the actual themes for today which is to go with the flow. But lets not bury the lead, this piece as meandering as it might turn out to be has been inspired by the nineteen degrees weather that my little part of this island is currently basking in. Often when it gets to the autumn I think that is my ideal type of weather, that slight chill in the air and I am fully aware that when it does get to autumn I will once again say that it is my favourite weather but we’re not there yet so for now I’ll focus on this spring sun. For me, nineteen degrees is the ideal weather for this time of year as it allows for me to step outside in a tee and a jacket which is one of my favourite clothing combinations. Today’s jacket and my favourite one when it comes down to it is a green corduroy one which I always am very excited to wear after my Mum got it for me a little while back. Its one of those items that feels like me so when I wear it I do feel comfortable and that the jacket is an extension of myself. I like having those key pieces that have that feel to them and I think it is important to have those staples to turn to and to feel safe in. I am hoping that there will be many more days like this so my favourite jacket can continue to enjoy the world as soon it may be heading over seas or in this case under it. 
Today has been one of those days where it starts off relaxed and meandering and it never really loses that atmosphere as the day gradually and gently unfolds infront of you. Its the sort of Saturday to tick off a few things off a list, to get those odd jobs done, to head into town, to pick up the things that are needed and to try on some sunglasses for cycling. The sort of day where really, you don’t have a clear plan, only ideas of things that need to be done in any sort of order and finding out what that order is is half of the fun. I would say that for the past year or even longer on the blog I have often referred to staying present and trying to do so. It is something that I do feel that I do more and more now and I am all the better for it. Alongside this, as a shoot off branch, I am letting things go a little more and not planning everything to within an inch of its life. I have touched on this before but I get a lot from the meandering, the spontaneity and the unexpected that may come. Whilst I do like having a plan for certain things in life whether that be trips or weekends it is also nice to just be and to see where the road takes you. These days can feel sort of sitcom esque as the characters (which I do realise are scripted but that takes a lot of the fun out of it) get themselves into situations which really, are very small scale but the memories of which can span the rest of the season. Its one step at a time stuff and working it into my mantras is feeling pretty good indeed. 
I also, look, I’m sorry, I know I wrote about the Golden State Warriors last week and I know that I wrote about them briefly for the photograph of the week but here’s the thing, a play offs loss needs to be discussed. I need to air it because, sigh, it does sting. I really thought that this could once again be the year and I am annoyed that they haven’t made it. Steph and the gang put in some wonderful performances but at the end, it was the Lakers who were triumphant and I suppose that is also why this stings. As I have written about on oh so many occassions now, the Lakers are my other team which I do realise isn’t ideal as they are Californian West coast rivals but as I went to San Francisco and LA it seemed fitting to have the teams for both be my teams. Yes, it does suck that it always seems inevitable that one of them will cause hurt to the other but its the card I have been dealt by, well, a trip I suppose. I think this stings is because this year, I genuinely thought that the Warriors had a better chance of winning the finals again and that I didn’t have a great deal of confidence in the Lakers to go all the way. Sure, the Lakers did topple the Warriors but I’m not so sure that they will manage to make it to the finals. Yes, I hope they do but I don’t think it will be this year. If I had to make a predicition, it would be that the Denver Nuggets will win the West and will square up against the Boston Celtics from the East and the Celtics will come out on top. But, you never know, I could be wrong. It could be those purple and gold players do make it all the way and California once again rules the NBA. We’ll see, like with my Saturday in the nineteen degree weather and the times to come we’ll see where the road goes. One step and one basket at a time. 
-Jake, a man with some Blade Runner esque cycling glasses, 13/05/2023
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lordarsonizzzzt · 1 year
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IM NOT GOING ANYWHERE SJCKDKSKFKDKSK
Julian’s only at site nineteen for a day and a half. He doesn’t say goodbye to Gears, not wanting to overwhelm the man after their last conversation. It takes about a week for Julian’s next email to come in, and another week for Gears to muster up the courage to read it.
Julian and the rest of his task force had been sent to Greece, to track down an anomalous creature that was killing tourists. The information he sent about the creature made it sound terrifying, a beast with sharp claws and teeth strong enough to crush metal, but that’s not what the email focused on. No, most of it recounted the beauty of the place he was in.
“…we’re scouting out this beautiful town in Mykonos. All the buildings are whitewashed stone with blue roofs, and the water was the type of blue you only see in movies. I’m last watch, and I’m sitting on a roof in the warm air, watching the sun come up over the horizon. I’ve seen the sun more in this past month than I did in the ten years in site-19, and isn’t that a damn shame? We all watch the same sun rise and set, and it makes you feel that much smaller, that much at home. The breeze is warm and smells like the sea, and it’s blowing my hair out of its bun. I’ve never seen anything like this, the sun glinting off the sea… this might sound weird, but it’s almost sating. Like I’ve had a good meal. I can keep going. I can keep going.
Please respond,
-Dr. Julian Finn, PhD.
Gears pauses. He reads through some of Julian’s other emails. All of them, even when he was facing down horrific entities or possible death, he always described the world in painfully rich detail. A mission to find an artifact focused on how massive the moon looked and the smell of smoke. An attack on a GOI was mostly comprised of the gently falling rain and the little rivers it made in the brick streets. It’s like he saw in a different way.
Gears doesn’t know how to respond. He looks around him. He types, and presses send.
At five in the morning, covered in blood and nursing a broken rib, Julian receives an email from Gears.
“There’s a spider making a web in the corner above your desk.
Thought you would like to know.
-Dr. Gears.”
He doesn’t know why, but it makes him smile despite the pain
-Brainworm anon
I can imagine Gears glancing at the spider sometimes, wondering why haven't Julian answered yet, naming that spider 'Finn', if anyone asks why is it called Finn he would tell 'uh, adventure time'. That tiny spider was the first one that saw him smile (or,,, well, try)
And Julian was the second, one day he just came into his office *more like broke the door to come in* and saw him mumbling stuff to the spider that basically made his old desk a house.
"What the fuck are you doing Gears?"
He would turn around so fast and honestly if he was more in touch with his feelings, he would have gasped.
"It's the spider I told you about... Are you okay Dr. Finn?"
He just noticed a few bandages on arms and head, and a few bandaids on his face
"Uh yeah, got some trouble in a mission, out of order for a few weeks so I figured I may take my in site dorm back, and site 19 was close anyways..."
ALL LIES HE JUST WANTED TO SEE GEARS, well the being out of order thing wasnt a lie, he was on the nursery for almost a month and he still had to heal but in a place where he could be constatly checked, he chose to go back to site 19, yeah its shitty, yeah he hates everyone there but he had to see Gears and talk to him
Maybe there is where Gears tells him to just call him Charles? or whatever his name is, and Gears calls him Jules... sometimes, when he remembers
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faeriejones · 1 year
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Hullo, it's Kringle!
To be fair, the crosleys are cute and affordable so you know, you could do worse I guess!
I'll have to ask my friend, hopefully I'll remember when I see him tonight. I haven't read Fab either, so thanks!
Oh obviously Monkberry Moon Delight is great and Admiral Halsey is wacky especially considering it was a single! I'm weirdly fond of "Dear Boy." It's so cheerful and almost threatening at the same time, which I find irresistible. Which I guess makes sense because I love Belle and Sebastian, too.
I'm still working through the catalog and finding stuff to love all over, but while it's kinda basic, I love how many bangers are on "Band on the Run" I hadn't heard. Namely "Mrs Vandebilt" and "Nineteen Hundred and eighty Five." But I'm also surprised that, say, Back to the Egg and London Town have such a bad rep! They're uneven, but they're not like, DIRE. and yet I still have people telling me "it's too bad Wings sucks" when they hear I like McCartney.
Do you have any holiday traditions you're looking forward to?
Kringle
hello, kringle! i hope you’re doing well!
ah, yes, the crosley conundrum ; visually appealing but technically deficient (they make for great props for ‘aesthetically pleasing’ photos lol)
ooh, if you do ask your friend about the book, please tell me what they thought of it! if they haven’t read it yet, i highly implore them to do so because it’s such an engaging read.
haha, yes! ‘dear boy’ just happens to be one of those songs that has a cheerful/joyous melody, but the lyrics are alluding to something more threatening.
i’m going to be honest here, i’ve never heard of belle and sebastian before. but since you’ve mentioned them in your response, i decided to check out their music! so far, i like the song ‘nice day for a sulk’ off of ‘fold your hands’. what other songs/albums by this group would you recommend to a new listener? what are your personal favorites from their discography? and how did you discover them?
‘nineteen hundred and eighty five’, ‘mrs vanderbilt’, and ‘let me roll it’ are all absolute masterpieces in their own right. probably the best songs on ‘band on the run’! i wholeheartedly agree with you about paul’s ‘critically panned’ albums. the fact that those albums you listed above had received such an overwhelmingly negative reception, even from some of paul’s biggest fans, puzzles me. i was listening to ‘back to the egg’ earlier and i thought, “are my ears broken or something?” it’s not even that bad. to me, it just sounds like your standard paul mccartney album. it’s also funny to think about how most people immediately think of the mccarntey renaissance when they hear the name ‘wings’. (i do admit, i never cared to delve into wings’ other material beyond that era, but i’m sure their other projects are alright)
my family’s christmas traditions are rather basic, but i look forward to participating in them every year nonetheless. it’s essentially: wake up on christmas day, open presents in the living room, eat breakfast, go to our grandparent’s house, go to our cousin’s house (hopefully, i get to see my cousin’s extensive nutcracker collection in the flesh!) i also can’t wait to give my boyfriend and his family their presents <3
so yeah. all that good stuff and then bada bing, bada boom—‘happy new year’s!’ that’s pretty much it lol.
how about you? what are some end-of-the-year, holiday festivities are you looking forward to doing? do you have a favorite pastime like watching movies, listening to songs that remind you of this time of year, etc.?
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alisonsfics · 3 years
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scare you away
pairing: steve rogers x reader
summary: steve rogers has always been someone you looked up to. you always ignored your romantic feelings for him because he was much older than you. when he starts ignoring you, you realize you can’t hide your feelings anymore. (requested by anon)
word count: 1.6k
warnings: significant age gap, swearing
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You walked into the kitchen, still only barely awake. You were greeted by Steve, who was chopping up an apple for breakfast. “Someone’s tired” he said, smirking as he looked over at you. You just leaned into his side, too tired to hold yourself up.
He chuckled and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You were so small in comparison to the muscular super soldier. You felt the butterflies appear in your stomach, just like they always did when Steve was around.
It was a stupid crush. He was old enough to be your dad even if you ignored the fact that he was technically over a hundred years old. You knew that he probably thought of you as just a kid.
What you didn’t know about was the huge crush Steve had on you. It made him feel horrible and creepy. You were so young and innocent, and he was an old man lusting over you. He was raised in a time where it was taboo to marry someone that was more than five years younger/older than you, but there he was: in love with a nineteen year old.
“Do you want to spar after breakfast?” He suggested, really only desperate for any excuse to see you. You slowly nodded your head. Your sleepiness was visible to the eye, from your half-open eyes to how you were practically moving in slow motion.
Steve couldn’t help but chuckle and point towards the coffee machine. “I made coffee. It might wake you up” he said, amused as he watched your eyes light up.
You quickly walked over to the cabinet and reached for a coffee mug. You struggled to reach, even on your tiptoes. “Here you go, sweetheart” Steve said, easily grabbing it and handing it to you.
Once the coffee had passed your lips, you felt ready for the day. He handed you a bowl of apple slices. “Is this where you give me a lecture about how important breakfast is?” You teased, gladly accepting the bowl.
A small grin slipped onto his lips. To him, you were the human form of perfection. He loved hearing you giggle or watching you get excited. All of your silly jokes managed to put a smile on the old man’s face.
“I still hate that they made me do those dumb high school videos. They just made me seem like an old man” he said. You loved to tease him about those videos. It was a nice little inside joke that the two of you had.
You both ate together in quiet silence. Once you finished, you jumped down off your stool. “I’ll take care of your dishes” Steve volunteered, already taking them from you. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself.
“Thanks. I’ll go get changed and meet you in the training room?” You suggested. He nodded in agreement, giving you a peck on the top of your head. You froze, shocked by the sudden action. He quickly apologized and bashfully looked down at the ground.
You felt the heat radiating off your cheeks as you walked back to your room.
Steve had always been a mentor to you, and you both were normally pretty affectionate. It wasn’t out of the normal for you two to be cuddling and watching a movie on a Friday night. There were sometimes when things would get a bit too affectionate, whether it was a kiss on the forehead or holding hands.
He always left you with a fluttering feeling and a schoolgirl smile on your face.
You grabbed a sports bra and some leggings out of your dresser and got changed. After throwing your hair into a ponytail, you headed down to the training room. You didn’t normally opt for a sports bra, but all of your athletic tank tops were dirty. So, you threw a light jacket over your sports bra.
You saw Steve through the giant glass windows. He was already lifting some weights. You opened the door, and he looked up to meet your eyes. He greeted you with a small smile.
When he turned around to set down his weights, you took the opportunity to admire his back muscles. You set down your workout bag and unzipped your jacket, throwing it on top of your bag.
Steve turned around to face you, and you saw his eyes go wide. You noticed his eyes roll down your body. Then, he forced himself to look up at your face. “I—ummm. I’m sorry” he mumbled over his words.
His cheeks were on fire as his face became bright red. He didn’t know where to look, so he settled for the floor. He was too ashamed to look into your eyes, but couldn’t stare at your body anymore.
“Actually...I can’t—I mean, I have to go,” his words were rushed and frantic. He didn’t even pick up his bag before quickly jogging out of the door. You were left all alone.
You looked back at where he had just stood, feeling nothing but confusion. You didn’t even know what to think. He hadn’t said much of anything before running out the door.
You slung your bag over your shoulder and went back to your room. You set your stuff back on your bed and heard people talking outside your door. You peeked out the door and saw Steve talking to Tony, Nat, Wanda, and Sam, who were all sitting on the couch.
You kept your door only cracked open, so they couldn’t see you. “Oh come on. Just tell her how you feel. It’s better than running around avoiding her” Natasha told him. Steve put his head in his hands. He had no idea what to do.
“She probably knows anyway. You aren’t exactly the most subtle. You two and your little movie nights” Sam said, chuckling. You wondered if Steve liked you and that’s what they were talking about. “You knew about that?” Steve’s cheeks became an even darker shade of red.
You could hear Wanda and Natasha whispering to each other about how cute you both looked when you were cuddling. You could feel your heart racing.
Did Steve really like you?
“Come on, Cap. How do you feel about her? Do you love her?” Tony asked, aiming for a serious answer.
The room was quiet for a moment. You thought they could hear your heart pounding as it rang in your ears. You stepped into the room, so you could hear better. They all saw you, but didn’t make any gesture so Steve wouldn’t know.
“Of course I’m in love in her. I think about her all the time. How could I not? She's the sweetest person I’ve ever met, and I love being around her. I love how she giggles when she tells jokes, and how she gets flustered when anyone compliments her. But at the end of the day, I am so much older than she is. She’d probably think I’m a creepy old man if she knew how I felt. She definitely doesn’t feel the same way, so what the fuck am I supposed to do?” He asked, running his hand through his blonde hair.
You couldn’t form the words to respond.
“Steve?” your voice sounded weak and vulnerable. He spun around and met your eyes. You saw the panic wash through him. “Oh shit” he mumbled to himself.
You could only think of one thing to say. “Is all of that true?” You asked him, still having a hard time believing. He nodded, but hung his head in shame.
“We’ll give you both a minute” Wanda said, before they all exited the room. You walked closer to Steve, but he still couldn’t look you in the eye. “Look at me” you said, softly.
His big blue eyes met yours, and you could see all of his worry. “So do you think I’m creepy yet?” His voice broke. You let your fingers slip through his, interlacing your hands. His eyes darted to your hands.
“I don’t think you’re creepy. I think you’re kind of cute” you said, bashfully. He tilted his head towards the side, confused by your words.
You watched his eyes glance down at your lips. “Can you just kiss me already?” You practically begged him. He chuckled before slipping his arms around your waist. He leaned in and slowly connected your lips.
He hesitantly pressed his lips against yours. Your grinned as you noticed his nervousness. You slid your tongue against his bottom lip, encouraging him.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, toying with the ends of his hair. You both pulled away as you heard whistling. You looked over your shoulder and saw Sam watching you both.
“Come on, let’s go” Steve said, taking your hand and pulling you towards your room.
Sam wolf whistled again at the both of you. “Ignore him” Steve whispered in your ear, before closing the door behind you.
You laid down on your bed and pulled him down with you. “How about we watch a movie?” You suggested, running your fingers through his hair.
He nodded his head before adjusting himself on the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard, and let you sit in between his legs with your back against his chest.
You ran your fingers up and down his legs beside you as you started the movie. He pressed a kiss to your temple.
“So why did you run out of the training room this morning?” You asked, glancing back at him. He chuckled to himself before answering you. “The sight of you in that sports bra. I felt like a creep ogling at you. I knew I couldn’t stop myself. I didn’t want to freak you out” he told you, scratching the back of your neck.
You felt the heat rush to your cheeks. “I wish you would’ve told me that. I was having a hard time not staring you, Mr. Muscles” you teased, leaning into his touch.
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griffintail · 3 years
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Could you do some dream team (separately) who’s friends with a male streamer reader, and they just think their really good friends, but after reader comes out on stream they go “uh oh, UH OH” and it’s some good old fashion pining.
Fair warning, I’m straight as a pole and not very educated about coming out or that kind of stuff in general. If I got something wrong, educate me please. I hope you enjoy it past that.
One of the boys
Pairings: Dream, Sapnap, Georgenotfound x M! Reader
Warnings: Light swearing
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dream
        Dream thought he knew everything about his friends. Especially with his pretty good friend, (Y/N). (Y/N) knew pretty much everything about him and he thought he knew everything in turn about him.
        Turned out, that wasn’t the case.
        (Y/N), the poor guy had been a pretty small streamer when he started to talk to Dream. Dream helped him out so much and was so nice to him, it was hard for the guy to develop a crush on the guy. He hoped to god he wasn’t super obvious about it but when the guy who you got a crush on has about nineteen million people watching him, there’s going to be at least one of them that picks up on it.
        Dream thought it was another shipping thing originally, just like with George. (Y/N) knew different of course.
        The audience just knew and found all the moments (Y/N) knew he had.
        When Dream would laugh, (Y/N) would often give a wistful smile. If someone would donate and ask if (Y/N) had seen his face, (Y/N) would brag he had but of course, go beet red thinking about it. He was also quick to join Dream’s side in any sort of disagreement.
        There…there were a lot of compilations.
        After a while, (Y/N) felt like his audience needed someone to look to with some of the stories they shared. So, he felt like it was time to finally come out.
        Dream was shocked to find out the information, to say the least. How had he completely missed this huge fact?! The faceless man was slightly concerned when he saw (Y/N) was streaming with “Serious Talk” as his stream title and tuned into the stream, finding out at (Y/N) talked to his audience about it. He sat there for a few moments as (Y/N) cheered some people on for coming out themselves.
        A few things started to make sense to Dream as he thought about it.
        “Oh.” He muttered. “OH!”
        Yeah, all of the push-away moments when (Y/N) had gotten awkward or quickly changed the subject away from different things involving Dream made so much sense now. So, when he ended his stream, Dream gave him a call.
        “Hey, what’s Dream?” (Y/N) answered, Dream able to hear him shutting down his setup.
        “I saw your stream.” Dream told him simply.
        (Y/N) paused from standing up in his chair. “Yeah?”
        “Yeah.”
        It was silent for a moment.
        “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” (Y/N) said.
        “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”
        “Really?”
        “Yeah, you want to talk about it over some Pizza hut?” Dream grinned.
        “What?” (Y/N) asked confused. “Do you have screw loose man?”
        “No, I’m buying you a plane ticket and we’re actually going to meet at a Pizza Hut because I’m not going on a Minecraft date.”
        And that’s how Dream wheezed for three minutes on the phone as (Y/N) sat there, brain having short-circuited off.
        They’d be fine.
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
George
        George could kind of tell, about (Y/N), for a little while and would sometimes use this fact to fuck with him. He would do his usual stupid, flirtatious banter with him but that messed with (Y/N) more than he realized.
        (Y/N) felt like he was going to go nuts every time George would give his cute flirtatious comments. Chat knew too, and that just made (Y/N) feel like he was going to go even more nuts.
        Yet, when George did the same with Dream, (Y/N) felt jealous. If they were playing a game together and George and Dream were doing their usual fan service flirts, (Y/N) would sometimes be close by as Dream would somehow trip into lava or fall of a bridge. He didn’t know how it happened and snitches get stitches chat.
        After a while of this, (Y/N) started to gain a bit of confidence and threw it back and the shipping wars that followed after (Y/N) got confident was insane. Of course, while George’s were mostly joking, none of (Y/N)’s was.
        He eventually decided to come out after a while of his chat just piecing it together on their own and George wasn’t super surprised, mostly surprised that he had gotten it correct.
        Life went on as normal for a while but George started to see how differently his good friend acted around him. He thought it was just him being friendly but now, now it made more sense.
        “Hey (Y/N),” George said, coming up to him in-game as they were playing Minecraft on stream, big shocker.
        “Yo.” (Y/N) looked from his chat.
        George dropped him a cornflower and (Y/N) frowned.
        “What’s this for?” He asked.
        “Be my Minecraft boyfriend?”
        (Y/N).exe has stopped working.
  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sapnap
        Man wouldn’t know unless someone threw a brick at him with the truth scribbled on it. (Y/N) allowed himself to be obvious knowing this fact himself.
        (Y/N) chat constantly called him a simp because of it but he didn’t give two shits and just let them have their fun. They didn’t know yet anyway.
        He would constantly “jokingly” flirt with Sapnap, covering it to say that they needed to rival Dream’s and George’s relationship just in case Sapnap got the hint. He would actually blush though when Sapnap would play along and tried to play it off with chat. It didn’t help either when they were both a rather chaotic duo together and people called (Y/N) Sapnap’s flint to his steel.
        It was a bit heartbreaking to (Y/N) though that all the comments were one-sided and Sapnap didn’t know that he was actually being more serious than he had in his life. (Y/N) let it be though and he stuck to the “jokes” and reading some fanfiction; he got bored alright?
        Finally, though, (Y/N) wanted to lead by example when a few of his donators talked about being scared to come out. It was one of the few times (Y/N) was deadly serious with his chat, usually wanting to keep things light. The internet took it from there and Sapnap was more than shocked to find out about his friend from Twitter of all things.
 ...
         Sapnap @ sapnap
        @(Username) you got something to tell me?
        (Username) @ (Username) replying to @ sapnap
        I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious man.
 ...
        Sapnap stared at his phone for a minute and thought about it. Holy hell, it had been.
 ...
        Sapnap @ sapnap replying to @ (Username) and @ sapnap
        Well then are you going to stop beating around the bush and ask me out?
 ...
        (Y/N) replied with the clip of Dream falling out of his chair because he did that same.
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tsarisfanfiction · 2 years
Text
Third Strike
Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Teen Genre: Family Characters: Zeus, Apollo
Zeus loved Apollo, once.  His favourite son, his golden child.  His greatest threat.
Day nineteen of TOApril organised by @ferodactyl, “And So The Sun Sets”.  I am never writing Zeus pov again this was absolute murder.  I scrapped the whole thing twice and I’m still a little dubious how canon-compliant it is but I like the concept so here it is anyway.  I cannot guarantee any timeline accuracy; I can guarantee a very biased narrator.
There’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi!
Apollo fell, and Zeus watched.
He mourned.
Once, Apollo had been his favourite son.  Beautiful, powerful, golden – the perfect child, and Zeus had lavished attention upon him.  Favoured him, for all that Hera despised that he had had children out of wedlock, that the twins existed.  Favoured both of them, really, but Artemis knew what she wanted and demanded it with all the poise that suited a goddess.  Apollo never made up his mind; too many things caught his eye, and almost before Zeus realised what was going on he’d amassed a plethora of domains.
None of them were a threat to him.  Not healing, not the arts, not even archery, although prophecy was always one to watch. Each domain gave Apollo power, bolstered by the belief of the humans, but Zeus had far, far more and his golden child was of no concern.  The prophecy had said that it would be a son of Metis who overthrew him, and Apollo was a child of Leto.  He’d disciplined the other god when he had to, of course, but it was nothing unusual, nothing more than a father making sure his son followed the right path.
The rebellion had come out of nowhere.  Poseidon and Hera were less of a surprise – his brother was not quite his equal, but close enough in power to conceivably make a claim for the throne of Olympus, and his wife and sister had made no secret of her disapproval of his various mortal lovers and resulting offspring – but Apollo’s involvement had startled Zeus.
Zeus did not like being startled.  He did not like having a son defy him, and he had been immediately reminded of his own machinations with his own father.
Apollo had inherited his flair for the dramatic, his beauty, and his intelligence.  When those were combined with Apollo’s ever-growing spread of domains and steadily increasing power, Zeus’ eyes had been opened.
This son of his was not a son of Metis, but he was his son and the same way Zeus had overthrown Kronos, the same way Kronos had overthrown Ouranos, the realisation that Apollo could and one day would attempt to overthrow him had settled in.
But Zeus had not made the mistake of Kronos.  He had not let his paranoia act for him, he had not given Apollo reason to act. He had reminded Apollo who the king of the gods was, who the more powerful god was, who would win any confrontation.
Hera had been sent to Chaos for her crime, but the other two he’d reduced to mortal, reminded them why he was king, and that should have been that.
He had not accounted for Apollo’s heart.  He had not accounted for the way his son, less golden in his eyes yet all the more golden when Helios faded and his powers had passed to Apollo – giving him a domain important enough within the cosmos to be a real threat and greatly boosting the younger god – grew attached to certain mortals, his own children, enough to retaliate in rage against a just punishment.
Zeus had reminded him again that he was weaker, enforced that even with a celestial domain Apollo was still nothing compared to him, and had sent him back down to work as a mortal once more.  Clearly, however, he’d needed to do more – a donkey needed both a stick and a carrot, and Zeus had clearly seen that if he did not give Apollo something to mollify him, the resentment would have begun to foster in earnest.
The appeasement of Asclepius’ ascension had worked exactly as planned; Apollo did not defy him again, but Zeus had remained wary.  He had been blindsided once by his son.  There would not be a second time.  Wedges had been driven between the other gods – Apollo could not hope to take him on alone, but Zeus had not taken down the titans alone, either, and nor had Kronos destroyed Ouranos unaided.  Apollo was beloved, easy to like yet also envied by many, and it was that Zeus had used to ensure no rebellion could be founded.
He didn’t know when he stopped loving Apollo.  Maybe he never did, maybe part of him still loved him as he watched him fall for the last time, but that didn’t matter.
Couldn’t matter.
For millennia, the status quo had been maintained.  Apollo had remained subservient as he should, and there had been no whispers of rebellion. More millennia, Zeus had been on edge, unable to relax, knowing that the moment he let down his guard would be when Apollo struck.
And he had.  It was a more miserable failure than the previous attempts, but it was an attempt nonetheless.  Conspiring with the Romans, taking advantage of his status as too Greek for the Romans to remake to play both sides as their minds tore in two, he fuelled the flames of war, incapacitated the gods, and gave no warning of Gaia’s rise.  Had Zeus not been keeping such a close eye on his son, he would have missed it, and that could not be ignored.
Three strikes.
He could not give Apollo any more leniency.  Apollo had proven that he would bide his time across millennia as he waited for an opportunity to overthrow Zeus.  If Zeus did not do something once and for all, not only would he be forced to watch Apollo for the rest of time, he would also be sending the message to the other gods that all he gave for such a serious crime was a slap on the wrist.  Twice, Apollo had not been deterred by mortality. A third time would make no difference. Not unless he changed it.
In the past, he had simply taken Apollo’s powers and been done with it.  This time, that wasn’t good enough.  This time, Apollo could not be given the chance to return.  Zeus could not directly kill Apollo, and nor would he try – there was a fine line, but he refused to follow in Kronos’ footsteps – but he could tear all of his divinity from him and yet phrase it the same way he had before.
It took six months to tear his son apart, longer than he’d expected and proof that he was doing the right thing.  If Apollo was this powerful, there was no question that should he secure the support of some of his brethren, another rebellion attempt might be successful.
He watched him fall, for the third and final time, but while there was relief there was no satisfaction. He had loved Apollo, once. His son’s desperate pleas reached his ears, and Zeus forced himself to turn away.  Apollo would not survive these trials, he would not learn his lesson. Perhaps he would succeed in dealing with the Python Problem, but for as long as he retained his mortality he would not survive the encounter, even if he managed to get that far, and Zeus would not permit his powers to return.
He would watch over him, in the last embers of his son’s existence, and he would mourn the son he’d once loved, but he would not interfere any further.  Apollo’s life was in the jaws of Python, now, and Python would show no mercy.
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