#so many run-on sentences

[kinnbig]

ooh trick or treet!! 🎃

hello beloved here is an ArmKhun flavoured treat for you from a lil oneshot WIP I've had in my drafts for way too long 👀💖

It's the third outfit that does it.

Really, Tankhun isn't sure why he's surprised. The outfit is to die for. Tankhun looks incredible in it. He should almost certainly have anticipated some kind of reaction.

Perhaps it's different because it's just the two of them this evening. Usually, a bigger turnout is inspired by Tankhun's Pre-Party Styling Parties (wherein the afternoon before any excursion to Hum Bar (or really, to any function that Tankhun might care to attend - he's branching out these days, he's even been on a boat) is spent drinking cocktails and grazing on canapés and, most importantly, showcasing all of Tankhun's potential looks for the evening) - but today Chay has an audition, and Kinn and Porsche are away on business, and Pol was called away after barely ten minutes of partying (because one of his frankly ridiculous number of sisters rudely decided to give birth during Tankhun's gathering, which for some ungodly reason required Pol's presence) - and so now there's just Arm.

Arm, leaning against the wall in Tankhun's bedroom, wearing a surprisingly tasteful (albeit uninspiring) sky-blue button-up and holding a cocktail glass that no longer has a cocktail in it - because the entirety of said cocktail now finds itself staining the front of the aforementioned sky-blue shirt.

Tankhun had just swept aside the curtains of his dressing room to reveal his new outfit (his favourite so far; sheer, slinky mesh on top that clings exquisitely across his chest and waist and yoga-toned abs, if he does say so himself; expertly paired with a pair of flowy, delicately-patterned trousers with gorgeous corset detailing on the waistband; heeled, glittery boots; and a selection of fine silver jewellery, including a stunning body-chain that fastens quite eye-catchingly against his throat and waist), and Arm had looked up as he entered and promptly spilled his drink all over himself.

The thing is, Arm doesn't really even seem to have noticed. His eyes have gone very wide, and Tankhun can feel them on him; feel the heat of Arm's gaze on his skin as it traverses over him; feel Arm taking in the dark smudge of kohl around his eyes, the cling of shimmery black mesh to his torso, the caress of the delicate silver chain against his throat and sternum and waist - and Tankhun knows he looks good, of course he does, but the way Arm is looking at him stirs something molten and exhilarating deep within his gut.His blood seems to crackle.

Arm wants him.

It creeps through his veins, heady and powerful and intoxicating. Arm wants him, and it's so incredibly, electrifyingly perfect, because Tankhun has wanted Arm since the night he took off his clothes in Yok's bar.

(Or at least, the night Arm took off his clothes in Yok's bar is when Tankhun first allowed himself to admit that he wanted Arm; an earnest agreement to Yok’s drunken, filthy confession, whispered through a conspiratorial grin into Tankhun's ear, "I'd let that bodyguard of yours do more than just guard my body, I'll tell you that much," - but in truth, if he thinks about it: it's been longer than that. Much longer.

If Tankhun is honest with himself, he knows that this clawing, aching want has been simmering inside of him for so long that it feels perfectly at home in his rib cage; woven into the very fibre of his being; part of every single cell in his body as if each one had been designed to contain it - as if deep down, at his core, Tankhun had been built to yearn. To long. Like this. For him.)

Now, Arm stares at him with unmistakable desire, and Tankhun stills, for a moment, and lets the thrill of it hum down his spine; shuddered and singing and stuttered like wind-chimes in the breeze.

And then he tuts. "Oh," he says, and Arm startles at the sound, his eyes snapping to meet Tankhun's before abruptly dropping again, embarrassed, a pink flush rising high on his cheekbones as he inspects the damage to his shirt, "this won't do at all."

✨🍬 fic writer ask box trick-or-treat! 🍬✨

[thephouseplants]

With the Phour being officially announced, and most likely being a main talking point in the Phantom for the next few months, I just wanted to say:

You can't go because You can't afford it and/or are unsure if you'll be able to afford it, if you want to go but you need some sort of guardian or aid to accompany you and you don't want to go with them for whatever reason, you want to go but there's accessibility reasons that you can't, you want to go but you really can't handle large crowds, you want to go but are too anxious too, you want to go but they won't be coming anywhere near you, you want to go but the nearest city they will be in isn't affordable to travel to, you want to go but are unavailable for the days they will be in your area, or you simply don't want to go.

That you are all great and vaild and it's okay-- a from an internet stranger.

I am here to validate you! (threat/j /j )

[triglycercule]

sleep deprived dust can't recognize what's dream and what's real when he goes in and out of consciousness so i think dust is allowed to be incredibly reckless when he's awake but thinks he's in a dream. he will kill whoever passes by him (or attempt to. for him it's an instict to shoot bones anyways.) he will drink 4 bottles of alcohol just because he thinks its just a lucid dream. have incredibly loud conversations with phantom paps because he's asleep so nobody will hear him talk. or just have loud ass breakdowns because again he thinks he's asleep!!! nobody's gonna know what he gets up to in his dreams. and until someone (probably phantom paps) tells him that he's not asleep and this is reality he won't realize until he's done something really reckless

horror is seconds away from exploding dust's skull open with his magic while dust is trying to strangle him and FINALLY phantom paps tells him he's awake and dust snaps out of it. killer is walking around the house with bones sticking out of him like pins on a sewing pattern (casually too. another day in the life for him) and he just asks dust what that was about. dust just gets off of horror and shrugs his shoulders with an idk. and then walks away. this is the 6th time its happened this month

[allonepiece]

bonney shrinking to her real age and form and giving vegapunk a hug while also apologizing for how she's acted. vegapunk giving her kuma's last gift to her, one that's meant to look like the sun and act as a protective charm — the sun, just like the type of deity Nika is, the promise of a future of freedom, joy and laughter; what kuma wanted for his daughter, even if he probably couldn't see it himself.

[cloud-starlight]

Sniperspy in my mind (and partly in the comics) have this solidarity of being complete Loners in comparison to their team. I see this kind of compatibility with them where they can finally have someone with the same “get it done efficiently” mindset that a lot of the other mercs don’t have or have less of.

The ISTJ INTJ solidarity is real and they encompass it perfectly. Spy is like *this guy is so weird and has no class but I can totally get behind his dedication to efficiency* and Sniper is like *this guy is frivolous and attention-grabbing but he is an expert at keeping his emotional distance* and like. they are both attracted to eachother because of that. they have finally found this other person who they can see themselves in.

but then they have the problem of no attachments. but… what happens when theres nothing about the persons character/personality you disagree with? sure there are differences in lifestyle but it’s not too drastic. Sure Sniper likes hunting while Spy would prefer looking through clothes magazines, but there’s no difference in moral lifestyle. It’s like, theres finally someone they can both let their guard down around because neither of their guards *actually* go down. They’ll still be alert, no matter the situation.

so, they go on a few couple road-trips around the west coast/midwest. they find ease around eachother, they have similar views, they can make fun of the same people, and they can find an escape from their jobs.

Then, here comes the problem for Spy. Keeping yourself detached has always been a typical strategy for spies, but does it really apply to everyone? Theres this dedication to keeping yourself a shrouded mystery, because no matter how earnest someone says they are when keeping secrets-you can never completely tell. And hes always had this way in relationships (romantic or platonic) where he’s with someone, then he cuts it off. no questions answered, no calls taken, no letters returned to sender. He’s gone. It’s the way of things as a spy, right? The job is done, the relationships are done. But, is this a dance he’s going to be wanting to do until he dies? Theres only so much time in a man’s life. (and a smoking one at that, but i digress)

He likes fancy clothes, he likes chance, he likes problem-solving, and he likes planning. He likes it so much that he’s willing to put his own life in the hands of his own mind, and his abilty to act on instinct.

Now, with this new indefinite contract where he battles alongside 8 other men in various locations across the globe in a decade old fued between two brothers, he wonders if he’ll even need to *cut the ties* of this job/era in his life.

he has one of the most innovative and smartest doctors at his dispense to heal any disease or wounds he has, he has good pay, and freedom to be his own person *in the most mysterious way possible* and he gets to boss around and insult his coworkers with no repercussions from the employer. He lives in a constant state of planning against his own clone! (which he believes to be the best candidate to fight against)

So when this like-minded wilderness man comes to save him from his social boredom, should he stop himself from forming an attachment? It’s only human after all, emotional bonds are a pillar in human nature. But, is it worth it to give into something he hasn’t been with for at least 20 years just because he *thinks* he won’t have any other job? He truly believes, if he does allow himself to have strong emotional connection with Sniper, he may never be able to cut the tie, he’ll get too attached.

Now, for Sniper, there’s this dilemma where he’s never had a relashionship to cut off. His parents passed pretty recently, and he’s feeling lonely! How are you supposed to brush off the feeling that you could have a genuine connection with someone like you? Maybe… just keep up the battlefield rivalry and keep getting pissed at this annoying invisible guy who keeps ruining your shots by stabbing you in the back, but then, theres this belief that he’ll always be there to mess up your plans, and that is still a sense of security. How is it that Sniper should have no connections strong enough to deter him from planning to kill them, but still mentally function as a person?

In my mind, Sniper and Spy found eachother at the perfect spot for connection, they are both starting to question their own needs, even if it’s in different ways. Sniper lost something, and Spy hasn’t had something for a long time, but is just now questioning it.

It’s a scary dance for both of them, of course, but it’s not a dance to easily keep yourself from doing. It’s the most emotionally invested either of them have been in a romantic relationship, so how you just end it? how do you just say “no, no more.” and then see the person you know you love on the battlefield and not say anything?

[poughkeepsies]

Not to make this 1000 times worse for everyone but actually, 614 and 615 were the episodes for both Buck and Eddie mutually rejecting each other and the other's place in their lives by implying that they are lacking in the area that is the other's love language. Lemme see if I can hold my pieces together long enough to explain.

614 with Eddie rejecting Buck was much more subtle and didn't show a reaction from Buck beyond general jealousy because I fully believe that Buck doesn't know he's in love with Eddie, because he never even allowed himself to consider it as an option. He is too petrified of people leaving and too incapable of accepting that he can be loved to ever put himself in a position to hope for something that has the potential to devastate him so thoroughly. But whether he knows he's in love with Eddie or not, over the past 5 seasons he has thrown himself completely and utterly head-first into being there for Eddie and Christopher, being their best friend and their safe place. He exists as a part of their lives that no one but Shannon has ever even come close to occupying. Buck doesn't do grand declarations like Eddie does, but he shows his love through quality time and acts of service and all of that boils down to making sure the Diaz boys are never, ever alone. And yet, just last episode Eddie decided that he wants to start dating because he doesn't want to be "alone" anymore. Eddie is scared of dying alone when Buck has proven time and time again that there is no mess, battlefield, or locked door that could keep him from Eddie if he's ever in danger. So if Eddie is still feeling alone, still scared of dying alone, then maybe the kind of partnership and presence Buck brings to their lives simply isn't what Eddie is looking for, at least in a romantic sense. Even if he isn't aware of his feelings yet, even subconsciously Buck would take that as a door closing in his face before he even had the chance to knock. And so continues the pattern of Eddie jumping back into the dating game and Buck diving in seconds after him.

Now, of course, Eddie isn't saying that because Buck isn't enough. Buck is everything he wants or needs in a partner, but that scares him because Eddie is aware of his feelings and that makes him so acutely aware of the fact that Buck will find someone else to settle down with and start his own family with any day now, and when that happens Eddie really will be well and truly alone. He can't break his own heart, he needs to start being proactive because he doesn't want to spend the rest of his life alone after Buck has moved on.

And in 615, when Buck says that Natalia really sees him, he's discounting the way Eddie has always unspokenly expressed his love for him. Because maybe Eddie hasn't ever used those exact words before, but every one of his major declarations, including "there's no one in this world I trust with my son more than you" (THE TO BE SEEN, TO BE FOUND SCENE?? HELLO???), "I love him enough to never stop trying and I know you do too", "I forgive you", "I know", "It's in my will if I die you become Christopher's legal guardian", and especially "you act like you're expendable, but you're wrong", have been just another way of Eddie telling him I see you for all that you are and I love you for it. The expandability line is a particularly unsubtle standout because it's absolutely paralleled with both Taylor and Margaret telling Buck "you think you're invincible but you're wrong," and there Eddie was again, paired against Buck's mom and his girlfriend, two of the people who should know him and love him the best and yet just don't. And oh shit I'm realizing this just as I'm typing this but Eddie is yet again being paralleled against Buck's mom and his girlfriend (the girlfriend now being Natalia). In 6x10 when Margaret calls him a "miracle baby" and the way Natalia gushes about his death - Buck's death and his birth, two of the most traumatic things that have ever happened to him and Buck is someone who so desperately wants everything to be okay, wants the trauma to have some grand meaning, so he takes the out and takes the win and he lets them let him hide behind the superficial positive bullshit. But Eddie, Eddie sees Buck and Eddie knows him and loves him enough that he can tell just how not okay all of this is, not just for Buck but for all the rest of the people who love him as well, and he doesn't want him to hide away from it because Buck shouldn't have to pretend to be unchanged but he should acknowledge the way he's changed. Eddie is seeing Buck more than Buck can handle being seen right now and Buck is unconsciously rejecting it by placing preference over the way Natalia sees him. Except to an Eddie who is already convinced Buck doesn't feel the same, who is so scared of being alone after Buck has moved on, this feels like just another way he won't be enough for Buck and the time when he'll really well and truly be alone is more and more drawing near. There's even something to be said about the fact that we see Eddie visibly realize just how much Buck has been affected as he's talking - the fact that he's realizing this so late may be making him even more sure of his inadequacy.

[enjoythesilentworld]

💜 wilmon;

"I like it… the way you touch me when you think I'm asleep."

read part 1 here (+ the beautiful gif from @sobadbad 💜) more not-just-friends wilmon on beach vacation mimicking that one scene from s1e5

"I like it…” Simon said slowly, not wanting to scare him away, so terrified to acknowledge the blurry truth between them, “the way you touch me when you think I'm asleep." 

Wille scrambled away anyway, taking half the covers with him, and turned away from Simon, stuttering, “I didn’t—” then going quiet. 

The large glass sliding door out to the beach just a few feet from their rented house showed a beautiful, clear day, the blue sky outlining Wille’s broad back, shoulders drawn up with tension.

“Wille, it’s okay,” Simon assured him, because it was, the touches were innocent — fingers skimming up his bare back, sweeping gently through his curls — but so intimate, so comforting, and just enough to convince Simon that maybe his friend felt the same way. 

Slowly, Wille turned back to face him, and he still looked so terrified, so Simon crawled forward and placed a gentle hand on Wille’s cheek, swiping a thumb across his cheekbone, just as Wille had done to him the night before. 

“I like you, too.” 

send me 'Wilmon" + one sentence and ill add on five(ish) more <3

[didhewinkback]

Something Old

Written for @harry-on-broadway's fic challenge.

Written prompt used: "What's this, then?"

Watching your childhood best friend (& the man you've been in love with for half your life) get married proves to be harder than you thought. Will you be able to make a quick getaway to avoid further heartbreak? Or is it finally time for the truth come out?

A/N: the pic represents more of an overall vibe rather than a definite representation of what he is wearing. but the vibes of the pic are absolutely accurate. some liberties have been taken with accurate chronology of his dating life bc this is fiction town usa baby. takes place during the fine line era, in a world with no covid. dream world. please let me know what you think!

-----

There was a huge water fountain, right in the middle of the hotel courtyard, making criss-cross patterns into the pool below and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it. It was soothing, in a way. Or at least you were trying to force the concept of being soothed upon yourself, trying to focus in on the sounds of the water and the lights reflecting off of it. Anything to not think about the background noise of the party, of the clinking glasses and what that sound would mean, to think of him – nope. Back to the fountain.

Your mother cleared her throat. Her eyes had been burning holes into the side of your face but you couldn’t face her or that look of pity in her eyes. Your fingers tapped against the handle of your suitcase as you kept your eyes on the water. Just keep staring at the water.

“Did you call an Uber or…?”

“I’m just going to take the rental back to the city and go from there.”

“You could always take it back to the house. Bit of a drive but…”

The thought of walking into your childhood home, alone, while his own childhood home sat right next door was too much to bear. “I don’t,” you cleared your throat as your voice caught, “I don’t think I can be surrounded by all those memories. God, Mum, this is so embarrassing –”

“Oh, baby, no. Come here” Your mom rushed over to you and wrapped her arms around you in a death grip as you let yourself collapse into her arms, feeling 8, 15 and 26 all at once. The tears which you had been trying to save for the drive poured out of you, your mum shushing you as you buried your face into her shoulder. She stood there and held you tight, letting you release all the emotions you had pent up since you got here. You had never had an explicit conversation with her about your true feelings for Harry but with the way she was holding you, you knew you never had to. She knew. The thought made you tighten your arms around her, burying your head a little deeper as the tears flowed. Just a few more minutes.

“I’m getting your dress soaked,” you said, trying to pull your head away and pull yourself together before your mum tightened her arms around you, holding you in place.

“Could give two shits about my dress.” “Mum!” “I’m serious, I don’t care. Not when my baby is weeping in my arms.”

“Okay, I’m hardly weeping,” you huffed a laugh as you took a step back and wiped your face, looking into your mum’s kind eyes, glassy in their own right.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him? Tell him what’s on your mind?”

You shook your head before she even finished her sentence. You had tried that, years ago. Winter break 2013. He had been gone almost two years, touring and traveling the world while you watched from afar at uni. You had walked down your stairs, rehearsing your big speech in your head while smoothing down the new skirt you bought for the occasion, only to look up and find him in your living room with the most famous pop star in the world in his arms. He had brought her home to “meet the family” he said. Which included you. You were just family. And he dated pop stars now. A gut punch that you quickly healed with copious amounts of tequila. And a drunken hookup with a boy from sixth form. It was fine. You were fine.

You had been best friends since you were 8, neighbors since you were 6, and for years you brushed off your crush, chocking it up to an extension of affection for your first male friend - the boy who made you laugh until you cried, who always needed help with math homework, who dragged you onto the dance floor when everyone else was too nervous to at that first school dance. The boy who stood in front of you in his bedroom, nervously singing along to a Youtube track before asking you if this was something you thought he could do, for real. The boy who invited you to join him a few weeks each summer, riding bikes through muggy Colorado streets for late night froyo or hiking those Hollywood hills. The boy growing into a man who called you when you were studying at the library, in the middle of the night halfway across the world, feeling overwhelmed by the pressure and needing a piece of home to slow his exhausted, racing mind.

This crush was something you thought you would grow out of. Except you didn’t. His life had become drastically different than the one you two had shared in your small hometown but whenever you were together, it was like no time had passed. After that fateful winter break, you had tried to keep your distance but each time you saw him, you were sucked right back in.

There had been more moments - falling over yourselves during a drunken McDonalds run, or during a screaming match in the middle of a very competitive round of charades, or when he bounded off stage after that first solo night at MSG, wrapping you in his arms and holding tightly - moments where the words were about to burst from your chest, overwhelmed by the love you felt for him. But you knew it would never work - he wasn’t interested. And, even if he was, you were nowhere near his league. Even his one night stands were straight off the Forbes 500 list. Not that you were ashamed of yourself or who you had become, you just knew, for many reasons, that there was a disconnect there. He wasn’t interested. You were family. You had to keep it that way.

You steeled yourself to get over it, to be okay with just being his friend. And you had convinced yourself it worked. You had met his girlfriends over the years; no longer tearing yourself apart in comparison as you blossomed into that confidence that comes with getting older and finding your place in the world. Falling into relationships with some really great guys, guys that you really cared for, who made you laugh and met your family on your birthdays. But no matter how hard you tried, those relationships always seemed to fizzle out because you never felt that spark. That once in a lifetime spark. That spark you felt the second you saw him yesterday - a smile blooming across his face as his arms lifted up in a cheer when he locked eyes with you. All that hard work shot to shit in an instant.

You snapped back to reality, shaking your head more fiercely, desperately trying to get those memories to fall out of your head forever. “That’s not how he sees me, Mum. It’s not - this is just something I have to get over. But I can’t do it here.”

Her face fell, before she took a deep breath and steeled herself. “Okay,” she said, looking at you with new determination. “So, what’s the story? Work emergency? Appendicitis? Stomach virus? Uncontrollable pooping?”

“Mum! Oh my god!”

“What?!” she shrugged, her eyes glowing with a playful twinkle as she watched the smile grow on your face. “I just feel like the more details we provide, the more believable it will be.”

“Whatever you have to do,” you said, rolling your eyes as you pulled her into another hug.

“It’ll be okay, lovebug,” she whispered in your ear. “This pain won’t last forever. He’s not the be all, end all.”

“Why does it feel like it then?” you said softly, tightening your arms around her, unable to stop yourself when more tears began to fall. “I really have to get going, I don’t want anyone to see -”

Suddenly, the sounds of the party got progressively louder as the doors swung open. Your stomach sank as you heard the last voice you wanted to hear. “There you are! Been looking all over for you two. Ang? - Oh. ”

“Yeah?” Your mom turned to face him, blocking you from view as you furiously wiped away your tears.

“Mum’s been looking all over for you. Something about a bet involving tequila shots…”

“Ah, was hoping she’d forget about that. Tell her I’ll be in in a bit, just need to help this one -”

You cleared your throat, keeping your head down as you nudged her forward. “No, Mum, it's fine. Go in. I’ll be okay.”

She turned to look at you, eyes searching. “But you’re not feeling. well.” She emphasized her point by placing her hand on your forehead. Oh, god. No Oscar in her future then.

You looked at her, feeling his eyes on you, shaking your head. “It’s okay. Really. Have fun”.

“Love you.” She kissed you on the cheek as she squeezed your hand, whispering, “Be brave”.

You kept your eyes to the ground as you heard her walk inside, closing the doors behind her. Enveloping the two of you in silence. You looked up, taking him in for the first time all night. He knocked the wind out of you.

His white suit was tailored to perfection, the dress shirt open in a deep v down his chest, revealing the smattering of tattoos that you swore he’d regret one day, but that only looked perfectly in place as his muscles grew more defined. His hair, curls tousled just the way you liked it. The smattering of scruff along his chiseled jawline, held tightly as he took in the scene in front of him. He looked good.

You can’t imagine what you looked like. Tear tracks streaking down your face and hair messy from how often you had been nervously running your hands through it. Dressed for a cocktail hour while wearing your sneakers for the quick getaway. You had to get the fuck out of here.

“Thought only the bride was supposed to wear white.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop them. This was not the time for banter. You should be in the car already, leaving all this behind you. You snuck a look at his face, his green eyes locking with yours, his brow furrowed in confusion.

He looked right at you, his deep voice rumbling as he shot back, “Wanted to be dramatic. It’s my day too.”

“Classic H.” you said. You could not get your feet to move. Your car was no more than 10 paces away and yet here you were, frozen under his questioning gaze.

“What’s all this, then?” he asked, as he took in your suitcase, the car keys fiddling around in your hand. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah. Uh, a work emergency came up.”

“Bullshit.”

“No it’s not -”

“Your mum just said you weren’t feeling well.”

Shit. “Both things are true. H, please just - I have to go.”

“No, I think I have the right to know why my best mate is leaving my wedding weekend early. Why you’re standing out here with your mum and - are you - were you crying?” He looks desperately confused, eyes searching your face. “Need you to talk to me.”

He takes a few steps towards you when he notices your hands visibly starting to shake. “Hey, hey…” He reaches his hands towards yours as you quickly put your hands on your suitcase, pulling it towards you. You take a few steps back and try to take a few steadying breaths.

“Please,” your voice was barely a whisper. “You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“I always notice when you're gone. Haven’t been able to find you all night, I’ve been trying to hang out with you. Wanted to spend time with you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the look on his face, trying to not think too hard about those words. Trying to be casual, nonchalant. Trying to be anything but the crumbling mess you were in front of him. “C’mon, I’m not even in the wedding party it’ll be better -”

“Is that what this is about? You knew we were keeping it small on purpose, didn’t think you needed to be in the bridal party to know how much y’mean to me but I guess–”

Anger suddenly swirled in you, turning your cheeks warm, eyes blazing. As if you’d be out here having a full mental breakdown over something so trivial. You scoffed, “You think I’m out here crying because of some arbitrary fucking title? You know that’s never mattered to me when it comes to you.”

“Then WHAT is going on with you?”

“Can you please just drop it and let me –”

“It’s my fucking wedding, you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here. I need you here and you’re just standing outside with your car keys and your fucking suitcase like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing–

“Oh my god, how can you even say that – ”

“Well, what am I supposed to think? I’m flying blind here you won’t TALK to me–”

“I CAN’T WATCH YOU MARRY HER!”

The words were loud, louder than you meant them and out faster than you could stop them. Fuck. This was. Not. How This. Was supposed to go. You shut your eyes. Your mind was racing, mouth trying to move to make an excuse but you couldn’t think of anything and then you hear a derisive snort, your eyes flying open to see his, suddenly colder, taunting.

“‘S that what this is about, then? Never did like her, did you? Always wondered when we’d have this conversation. Thought you may have been a little more fair and try to do it before my wedding weekend but hey, guess I’m not the only one who can be dramatic.”

You stood there, gaping at him, tears pricking your eyes as he glared back at you.

“Let’s hear it, then. What’s so wrong with her?”

Oh, he misunderstood. You could let him think this is the truth, that you’re just some bitchy childhood friend who never approved of the fiancée and waited until the last moment to make a dramatic exit. You could leave right now and let him think that. But he needed to know the truth, as painful as it may be. You began to shake your head, the tears seconds from pouring out.

“No, that’s not - you’re not understanding me.”

“Am I not? Seems pretty clear to me” His tone was still taunting, angry. He had every right to be. This was supposed to be the biggest weekend of his life and here he was, out here with you, instead of partying with all of his loved ones mere feet away. The thought of it made the tears spill over, a small sob escaping you. Through the tears you saw his face drop, his brows furrowing.

“It’s not her. She’s lovely. She’s so lovely and you should be in there with her. You could be marrying fucking Beyonce and I wouldn’t be okay with it. I … I can’t watch you marry someone else without - without wishing it was me instead.”

You watched as he froze, his eyes widening. In shock? Anger? Pity? You weren’t quite sure.

You took a deep breath and kept going, continuing to dig yourself into the grave of your own making. Every part of you was screaming at you to stop, but now that you got started, the words kept coming, “I’ve been in love with you since we were like 15. You’re my best friend in the whole world and I…god, I can’t breathe when I look at you sometimes. You’re the first person I want to make laugh with a new lame joke, the first person I want to share good news with. The first person I want to do anything with. You’re kinda it for me. Always have been. You’re just my favorite person in the world. And I –”

You shook your head, cutting yourself off. Your heart was about to beat out of your chest, your cheeks burning. You stand there, slightly panting, watching him watch you, his own eyes glassy, his own breath coming in fast spurts. Neither of you dared to move.

You stand there, watching as your confession explodes between the two of you, helpless to do anything but stand in the carnage. It is deadly silent. A minute passes, then another. It could be five, it could be twenty. What did you just do?

“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry.”, you said frantically, your brain finally catching up to your mouth. “You should go back inside. I’m –”

He inhales sharply, head shaking in disbelief, “Y’think - y’think I’m going to go back in there right now? After–? Fuck.”

He drags his hand down his face, bringing his other hand to meet it and standing there with his head in his hands. You wish you could get a good read on him, to tell how he’s feeling, but you just stand there, heart beating wildly, in disbelief of what you have done.

“I’ve got a reception hall full of people here.”

“I know.”

“People traveled for this.”

“I know.”

“Why - why now? I had no fucking idea. Why’d you never tell me before?”

“I tried, but the timing was never right – ”

“Yeah, well, your timing right now is impeccable,” he deadpanned.

You rolled your eyes, though his sense of humor reappearing made a zing of hope run through you. Maybe he won't hate you forever. Maybe, one day, the friendship could be salvaged. Maybe you didn’t just embarrass yourself beyond belief - though your burning cheeks indicate otherwise.

He clears his throat, pulling you out of your racing mind. “This whole time…you’ve felt this way? This whole time?”

You had been expecting to confess and run. For him to smile politely at you, let you down easy. You had spent your whole life believing this was a one sided thing. But here he was, looking utterly wrecked, his green eyes never once wavering from yours.

“Yes, H,” you told him. “I’ve loved you this whole time.”

You watch as his face crumbles slightly. He brings a hand up to his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, a mumbled, shaky “fuck” leaving his lips.

You clear your throat and wipe at your eyes, praying your waterproof mascara is doing its job. As much as you want to live in this fantasy of possibilities, you can’t let yourself make more of a mess of this than you already have. He was getting married. Tomorrow.

“H, the last thing I ever wanted to do is ruin this for you”, your voice shakes the more you look at him, “I will be fine. You should go back inside. I’m going to go.” You grab your suitcase and keys and start to make your way to the car. The sound of his voice calling your name stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, his voice cracking.

You turn to face him, finding him staring right back at you. His glassy eyes ablaze, his jaw set. You don’t make a sound.

“Please.” He closes the distance between you in a few quick strides. Hesitantly, he lifts his hand to your jaw. You’re sure he can feel the warmth there, blooming at his touch. You lock eyes with him, both of you barely breathing. After a second, his thumb caresses your cheekbone, his eyes fluttering closed. He leans his forehead against yours and you can feel his hot breath on your lips, the smell of mint and tequila filling your nose. You might pass out.

“This is a lot to process,'' he whispers.

“I know.” You try to pull your head back a bit to give him space, but he holds you steady in his grip. His other hand falls to your waist, both of you inhaling sharply at the contact.

“I have to go back in there. Supposed to get married tomorrow,” he whispers as his thumb starts to draw circles on your hip bone. You’re sure even he can hear your heartbeat at this point, the way it’s thundering in your ears.

“Y-you don’t owe me anything, you know”, you whisper back, his brow furrowing as he feels your breath on his lips. “Just because I told you. There’s no pressure or anything. I know, like… I’m not….I’m not expecting - I should -”

He takes a step closer to you, pulling you flush against him, effectively cutting you off. “Don’t. You can’t. ‘S not pressure, I just - I don’t know”, he takes a deep breath, “I need time. Please. Don’t leave. You don’t have to go back in there but don’t leave tonight. Please.”

He kisses you on the cheek.

“Please.” His words fall across your lips as he moves to kiss your other cheek.

“Fuck. I wish…just - please don’t go.” He leans in slowly, kissing you once on the neck, right below your ear, inhaling deeply. His forehead falls to your collarbone, resting there. “You can’t go, not yet. Not until…Please. I need time to think. I don’t know. Promise me you’ll still be here later tonight.”

He lifts his head, holding eye contact with you until you nod, bringing your hand up to wrap around his wrist, moving your thumb in soothing circles. He stares at you, eyes dropping to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes. His grip on your hip tightens, his eyes dropping to your lips once more.

You hear glasses tinkering, calls of his name. Shit. You take a step back, his hand sliding from your jaw to your wrist, holding a loose grip. Your cheeks burning at how caught up in the moment you got, head reeling at what this could all mean.

“I have to -” “I know.”

He leans in, presses his lips to your forehead, not once letting go of your wrist.

He steps back, his glassy eyes flitting all over your face before meeting yours once more and holding your gaze. “You’ll be at the hotel later tonight? You promise?”

“I promise,” you say, squeezing his hand once before letting go.

He nods sharply, walking backwards towards the door, eyes never leaving yours. He stops right before the entrance, quickly wiping at his eyes, shaking his head. You can see him physically brace himself as he pulls the door open, a tight smile on his lips as he gets pulled into the party once more.

The doors close, once again surrounding you with silence. With your own thoughts. The feeling of his lips on your neck playing over and over again in your mind.

Holy. Shit.

[thatsnotmygunflash]

Are there any Professor Snart fics out there? The thought came to me and now I'm lying on the floor trying to get my brain to reboot.

Think about it. The gossip surrounding the hot new English professor. The casual but professional outfits. The captivating lectures. The charming smiles. The corny jokes. The starry-eyed students. The never-ending string of faculty friends and students visiting when he's in his office. The abundance of award-winning books he's written (James Patterson who?). The Dean is ready to offer him tenure if Len agrees to add another class or two to his roster because they have so many students begging to be in his class. He goes to his students' poetry slams to encourage them and has a writing workshop for inspiring authors. He sponsored a scholarship in his name for LGBTQ+ students. He volunteers to help with the theater department. Not long after he's hired, Professor Leonard Snart seems to be the only thing anyone wants to talk about at Central City University.

[demeterdefence]

Thinking about your "Rachel bashing og greek myths" post, methinks she believed herself to be making greek culture a favor similarly to the author of The Phantom of Manhattan, the unofficial sequel to The Phantom of the Opera

In the preface, the author begins by saying that Phantom, unlike Frankenstein or Dracula, barely made a dent in world culture until Andrew Lloyd Webber came along to make the musical, which he considers the "true" version even tho like...it wouldn't exist without the novel! He bashes Gaston Leroux and basically states that his attempt at writing failed miserably and it's like DUDE, again, the musical and your problematic sequel wouldn't even exist without it, and just because it was bigger in France than in the usa it doesn't mean it had zero impact in culture

But of COURSE unless it's usa-approved then it doesn't count and isn't worth anything *sarcasm*

PHENOMENAL point, FANTASTIC point, absolutely true and correct

i can't be a total dick and say this is an issue solely created and implemented by rachel, because we've seen non-western cultures and religions absolutely whitewashed to hell and back - like, people have been drawing jesus of the bible as white for centuries when he was a middle eastern palestinian jewish man, and good god look what the west has done to the religions of india, china, and japan. but it's the way these kinds of stories drip with a sort of smugness in removing the original culture, in depicting it as backwards and broken.

rachel wants to claim she's making a feminist retelling, but the original myth was already feminist. ancient greece didn't pretend their society was not fiercely male dominated and patriarchal, and hades stealing persephone was absolutely in line with the traditional myths - the twist is that demeter wins. demeter punishes the male gods who stole her daughter, and the ferocity of her rage and grief forces hades and zeus to give in. if persephone hadn't eaten the pomegrante seeds, she wouldn't be in the underworld at all! this is a story that is so clearly a triumph for the mothers and daughters of ancient greece, of many worlds over, because it depicted explicitly that a mother's love was more powerful than even the gods. and rachel pisses all over that.

literally even going beyond that, looking at the society that is olympus and the underworld - all the technology they use, all the innovations they have. who exactly is making these??? where exactly is the material coming from??? you can handwave away most of the inventions by saying it's magic, but we've seen demeter talk about algebra, which was invented in the ninth century by a muslim scholar from persia. in speedrunning to this so called perfect modernized world, rachel actually erases the cultural offerings and developments of dozens of other ancient worlds, and kind of just gives the credit to the underworld, which is run by a slave driver.

persephone constantly bemoans the dullness of the mortal realm, and prefers to literally lounge around doing nothing, when the mortal realm is inventing the olympic games, the democratic forum, FOOTBALL. you have thousands of things to show the gods involved in - largely because the gods were the patrons!!! why do we never see zeus looking over the olympic games??? they happen in his sanctuary!!!

like the disdain rachel has for ancient greece is insane. she can't even bother to research the food typical of the time period, seeing as she writes persephone being looked down on for being vegetarian when vegetables were a key and staple diet of ancient greece. one could argue that a vast majority of ancient greece were vegetarian by general habit. she's baking cheesecake and french desserts and having fast food and carrot cake and maybe - maybe - she'll mention baklava. the ancient greeks are FAMOUS for their art, but we sure wouldn't know that from lore olympus. the only character who even references ancient greek music is apollo, with his lyre, and that's not exactly a ringing endorsement.

and this is not to say that an adaption has to follow the ancient text to a t - that's just not feasible and no one is expected to do so. but there's really something to how rachel does dismiss or ignore the canonical importance of so many of these stories to replace them with a western interpretation. even the therapy speak is grating. in episode 227, when persephone is talking about the concept of virginity, she's absolutely correct in pointing out how that's largely a social construct - but in light of the world she lives in and the world she helps control, the same idea could have been reached through means other than americanized psych talk.

so often, people will look back at the ancient world and think we are morally superior because we do not have the same views, or we have seemingly "developed." that is a view i abhor, because it removes the very act of learning and developing and understanding. rachel really talked big about how removing the incest of ancient greece made the story better, but incidentally, she managed to also take out the feminism, and literally the entire lgbt culture of ancient greece. apollo was even considered the patron of homosexuality! he was called to bless same-sex unions! zeus had DOZENS of male lovers; ares, hephestus, and hermes had known male relationships, and several of the ancient heroes and gods of greek mythology were described in terms we would refer to as transgender in modern times.

if rachel had gone "i'm writing a love story that's originally inspired by the myth of persephone and hades but it's very much modern and removed from the myths" that would be one thing, and i would not be bristling at that; myths have inspired countless stories over the centuries and will continue to do so for centuries to come. the problem is rachel wants to claim a rooting in these myths with zero understanding of how they work or why they work, and absolutely lets her contempt for the ancients shine through in every single aspect of her comic. it's gross and it's petty and she deserves none of the self-appointed "mythology expert" she's given herself.

[wannabemasterofwindintraining]

trying to finish this wip before my motivation dies

[cake-chad]

Gideon: "All I can tell you is if this sword shatters and I lose my only opportunity to act like Angeal from Final Fantasy VII: Crisis Core where I have a giant broadsword on my back but all I ever do is never use it and just punch people, I'm be very upset."

[moredancesmyraptheart]

i think a big reason bo burnham is so popular with people of a younger age groups, especially gen z, is that the views he expresses surrounding social media and technology and how they're affecting the youths are some of the most sympathetic and nuanced i've ever really seen.

as a member of this kind of age group myself, most of the people i know have at least some level of hatred of social media and the way its taken over all of our lives. however, when people start talking about how terrible social media is for us, especially if they start fully blaming us or saying it's stopping us from forming any real connections, i find that most of us (me included) tend to get really defensive about it. and to me, that makes sense, what they're saying doesn't line up with our experiences.

these views are typically very black and white, and very rarely take into account the aspects of social media that those most affected by it find harmful, for instance, the way that the culture that has been established on the internet means a lot of people my age find it very easy to overshare but very difficult to be emotionally vulnerable in any way.

the ideas bo burnham conveys, however, are much more cognizant of the actual root of these problems. i think there are two main aspects of this: his discussion of how this generation's addiction to social media has essentially been manufactured, and his deeper understanding of what the problems with it actually are.

in contrast to the idea that's pretty widely pushed that young people are pretty solely to blame for all being glued to our phones, bo explores the way that being the first generation to grow up with technology having this kind of prevalence in our lives has affected us. for instance, in 'make happy' when he says "the arrogance is taught, or it was cultivated", or in that bridge of 'welcome to the internet', when he says "mummy let you use her ipad you were only two/and it did all the things we designed it to do", for me, at the very least, i felt a lot more seen by those lines than i ever really have in discussions about the harms of technology in the past. i think the fact that he doesn't entirely absolve young people of our responsibility for ourselves and our actions (e.g. the line in '30' about "your fucking phones are poisoning your minds [...] when you develop a dissociative mental disorder in your late 20s don't come crawling back to me") is what, to me, makes it an actually effective critique of social media, because the way he expresses these ideas is actually sympathetic to the problems we face, but it's still sort of saying 'ok, things are fucked for you guys, so what are you going to do about it'

similarly, when he talks about how social media has been harmful, i think it's more empathetic to the difficulties we face as a part of it. for instance, in my opinion, in 'welcome to the internet' the ideas he discusses of "a little bit of everything, all of the time" and "apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime" are much more significant aspects of the damage technology has done than a lot of the mainstream arguments against social media. for me, i know as a kid before i had super regular access to the internet, i hated being bored more than anything, but now that i'm a bit older and i can literally do or see anything i want at any time, i'm never truly bored anymore and i miss it so much. similarly, in 'make happy', bo's description of the way social media makes us "perform everything, to each other, all the time for no other reason" actually gets at the core of what has made this generation the way we are and why our relationship to social media is as fucked as it is. by actually discussing the issues that young people view as problems with social media, bo is able to make a truly effective and genuine critique of social media and gen z's relationship with it that has done more to inspire me to distance myself from social media than pretty much any other critique on the same topic

[solarmorrigan]

Chapter 2 of "You're Not the Type to Give Yourself Enough Love" is up!

The smell of grease and sugar hits Steve in the best way the moment they step into the diner, and he’s already willing to buy into Eddie’s insistence that he’ll love the food.

A greasy spoon diner tucked off the highway outside the city limits hadn’t been what Steve had been expecting when he’d offered to take Eddie to dinner—“Anywhere you want,”—in thanks for giving him a ride after his car had broken down, but he couldn’t say he was regretting following Eddie’s directions so far.

Of course, Eddie had tried to say that he didn’t need anything in return. He’d even tried to say that the entertainment of getting to watch Steve verbally eviscerate the mechanic who tried to bullshit him over the work his car needed had been payment enough – and look, it’s not like Steve doesn’t know how he can come across—clueless rich kid with a nice car that daddy bought him—but he takes great pride in keeping his car running on his own. The breakdown had been a fluke; Steve likes cars, knows cars, and hadn’t been able to hold in the tide of caustic sarcasm that boiled up when the mechanic tried to upsell him on things he knew damn well weren’t a problem. (Steve probably isn’t welcome at Larry’s Garage anymore, but that’s hardly a loss.)

Eddie had watched the entire thing with a look of delight that said the only thing he’d been missing was a bucket of popcorn.

[Read the rest on Ao3!]

(Podfic by @sunlightsymphony, also on Ao3!)

[hi-there-buddies]

I don't think Dragon Ball Z Abridged is "more accurate" or anything like that, but I do think that if they didn't want people elevating it above the original work they shouldn't have gone so hard on the serious parts. Like, the Cell Saga has a lot of scenes that are just fully dramatic with zero jokes. That pushes it into being both parody and a valid alternate dub, if we're going to speak in those terms. But members of TFS would say they don't want it thought of that way, and it's like, well, why did they make it that way then, right?

Very fair. I always get confused by that too. It’s like, why are you saying you don’t want ppl to think it’s better than the original when there were moments where you went out of your way to try and make it better than the original?

But I can kinda see where they’re coming from. When you make something for a fandom you love, you want it to be the best it can be, like fanfics. But when people start saying they like what you made more than the original work, it’s kinda infuriating. Like, ya, I wanted this to be really good, but this wouldn’t exist without what you just made fun of. So I can understand the annoyance TFS has sometimes. I don’t particularly like a lot of their opinions, but I at least respect their love for the series.

I think the real problem is how incessant the abridged fandom is, especially because most of it is made up of ppl who either haven’t watched the original DBZ, or have forgotten everything about it. (It’s really annoying when ppl make claims about dragon ball that are so obviously wrong, but at the same time so obviously something they learned from abridged, like Goku not needing to take his medicine being turned into Goku not wanting to take it)

Comedy series are often elevated by the small splices of drama they have, but I think the main issue is that most of the people who watched Abridged watched it as only a comedy series, instead of a parody series.

They also think the dramatic scenes elevate the entire series, which they don’t. They at most elevate a moment or an episode. It doesn’t retroactively make the series better (in the same way a lighthearted show switching to horror wouldn’t automatically make the show better).

I’ll be the first to say the dramatic scenes in abridged are great, but the issue is when the audience thinks these scenes are what make the abridged series better than the original, when the dramatic scenes the abridged series does have come directly from the original series. Android 16’s talk and Gohan’s ssj2 transformation chiefly. Those are literally just recreations of the original Dragon Ball Z moments, and thats a big reason as to why they are so impactful.

But anyway, ya, I totally see what you mean. I’ve gotten mad about it a few times too. It’s just overall so disheartening seeing people dunk on a show because they think the show they like is better, when the show they like wouldn’t exist without the show they just dunked on.

[haunted-phantom-student]

Just sitting here thinking about how none of the Gallagher siblings (except maybe Liam) had a chance at developing a secure attachment style, but Debbie developed an anxious attachment style while Fiona, Lip, and Ian all veered off more the avoidant attachment route, and this began isolating her early in life from three people she desperately needed to be there for her but who could never understand her motives and actions the way they understood each other's, making her journey into womanhood an extremely lonely one that became a self-fullfilling prophecy of terror of abandonment -> clinginess -> pushback -> feelings of abandonment. Thinking about how she was judged for years for how she handled her trauma, not because it was an emotionally unhealthy response but because it was a different (and less cool-looking) emotionally unhealthy response than that of the people with whom she shared the trauma and should have been able to find understanding. Thinking about how often it's said that she's selfish when she's definitely caused trouble in the name of her own self-preservation but is the least likely to act out in a way that harms those around her as opposed to just herself, especially intentionally. Just thinking about an extremely complex female character who doesn't get enough credit in or out of universe.