#that guy on the right is alex

[junicult]

!! the bachelors after their first kiss with you

contains ; fluff! gn!(but written with fem in mind)farmer for most. implied male in alex’s. non canon setting (for most). unestablished relationships—pre dating. alcohol usage. smoking (cigarettess).

note ; i had a nice time in my imagination with this one

harvey.

he stares at you, stunned at how easily you were able to do the thing he’s been thinking about for weeks. how soft your lips felt, how comforting your hand on his chest was, and how genuinely intoxicated just one simple kiss from you was already making him feel.

he clears his throat, and almost like you just sucked every word out of him, all he could muster up was a mumbled, “thank you.” he thanked you. for kissing him.

you purse your lips, trying your darnedest not to laugh watching his face just drop, realizing the first thing he said to you after you kissed him for the first time was a thank you.

“oh no, it was my pleasure.” you tease, allowing a small giggle to slip. he sighs like his blood has run cold, too embarrassed to even respond. luckily for him, you’re just too perfect, and you cool his sting by leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. you pull back with a smile, hand cupped over the opposing one, “goodnight harvey. i’ll see you tomorrow. you can thank me for that one, then.”

sam.

he acted almost as quick as you did, the moment he saw your eyes fixate on his lips and lean in, he wasted no time to fill in the gap between you two.

“you kissed me.” he says, face washed in amusement and adrenaline. he remains a solid grip where his hands rest on your lower waist, clear he has no intent on letting you go anytime soon.

“i might’ve.” you murmur, flickering your gaze to and from his. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think—

“are you all shy now? did i make you nervous?” he angles his head to chase your nervously wandering eyes, mischievous grin and tease in his tone. his hand consciously cups the side of your neck, thumb pressing into your jaw to gently force your chin up and maintain eye contact.

you huff, shaking your head. “well, a little! we just kissed!” you try not to sound too whiny—though, the way his grin spreads almost makes you forget that plan.

“aha! i made you nervous! am i so handsome? am i such a good kisser?” he muses, snickering in triumph.

“sam,” you test, narrowing your eyes through your eyelashes.

“what? you dunno know the answer? wanna kiss again to find out?”

shane.

he didn’t actually think you’d lean in, much less keep it going for so long that he’d have to push against you a moment later to give him a second to breathe.

but you shake your head, misinterpreting it all so quickly. “i’m sorry—i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have kissed you, i don’t know why i did that, i’m sorry—“

“whoa, i wasn’t pushin’ you away,” he immediately rouses, “i’m not mad that you kissed me.” and he snickers lowly, “more like pounced on me.”

“you’re not?” you hum breathlessly, straightening your pants and tucking pieces of your hair back. now your chest bubbles with a new kind of embarrassment. you nibble on your lower lip, attempting to ease your breaths. “i—i dunno why i did that. i don’t usually drink…much less makeout with people while i do.”

you slouch back down on the old, creaky dock next to him. he snorts, tilting his head, “‘m just too irresistible, huh?”

you shoot him a glower. “yeah,” you say like it’s sarcastic, but really, you’re well aware you aren’t drunk enough to start behaving irrationally. “i just didn’t mean to do that.”

“i don’t mind that you kissed me.” he shrugs.

you watch as he takes a swig from his beer can. his eyes focus on the overall still lake in front of you both. “you don’t?”

he almost wants to tease you for all your disbeliefs. he chooses to scoff out a laugh instead, shaking his head. “mm-mm.”

you turn to face the water, gently swinging your dangling legs over the edge. “hm,” you hum back, “maybe we should talk about that when we’re both sober.”

sebastian.

he’s borderline shocked at how easy it was for him to kiss you back—no hesitation after your fingers brushed the back of his hair to pull him in. he’s almost loopy, too, and he’s never been the type to swoon so hard from these kinds of affections. but he’s also learned a lot has changed since he first met you.

“you taste like cigarettes.” you murmur as you step back, licking your lower lip as if to repeat the taste. you turn towards the city lights, and for the first time he’s finding it nearly impossible to follow your gaze.

“i’m sorry,” he truthfully says, absentmindedly stepping down on the previously tossed cigarette butt at his shoe. “i’ve been trying to stop.”

“tastes like you, too. mixed in, i guess.” you note with a smile, “it’s not terrible though. but good, you should try and quit.”

he honestly doesn’t know how to take that—in his mind, he can’t imagine that tastes good, much less the combination any glorious. yet you turn to him again, stuffed hands unfolding from your pockets to reach across for his.

all you had to do was to give him a tiny tug, sliding your hands up his shoulders before he repositioned his own back to where they previously sat on your waist.

“let me bask it in while i can, though.”

alex.

you’ve almost never seen him with this soft, content look on his face. you’re half expecting him to burst into laughter, try to justify his actions with a teasing lilt and offer to pretend like it never happened.

but no. all he does is look at you, watching the way your eyes shift between each of his, evaluating. like he’s waiting for one of you to break.

you take the bait. “why’d you do that?” you murmur, quiet enough the wind almost picks it up.

he shrugs. “i dunno. it felt right.” he hums, and despite his uncertain words, he says it with sincerity. “was that the wrong choice?”

you think for a moment. for you, you surely thought about it for weeks. but the timing certainly didn’t feel appropriate. vulnerability changes a man like him most of all, and the last thing you’d want to do was take advantage of that. you absentmindedly swirl the grains of sand under your fingertips.

“no, i don’t think so.” you respond easily.

he nods. you’ve never seen him this quiet, but despite that, you’ve got an idea of what’s exactly going through his mind. when he turns away, you’re certain.

“you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“of course not.”

elliott.

he had almost forgotten why he invited you over—just for inspiration on the last couple chapters of his novel, or did he honestly plan for it to go like this?

“so…what happens after they…kiss?” you coyly murmur, still held in his embrace so close you can smell the drop of pomegranate on his lips.

“well, i haven’t written that far just yet,” he pauses to take a breath, “i was hoping they’d finally confess their love.”

he’s so handsome this close, your head still reels and lips feel fuzzy as you struggle to bring back in your even breaths.

you nod, slow and computing. “yeah—no, that sounds good.”

your plump lips hold him in a trance, as do his, making it so hard to concentrate on his words all the while you feel you’re too fixated on them.

“so you believe they love each other? that they should finally tell the other?”

the kiss rendered you thoughtless—what can you expect from a romantic like him? however, the metaphor is not lost on you. and had he let you go at this point, it wouldn’t have been so easy for you to eagerly nod, “absolutely. two people in love should tell each other they’re in love.”

[thepunkmuppet]

the lack of jack and claire interactions is genuinely such a travesty, and not just because 1, they’re both cas / tfw’s kids and 2, because i love them both dearly, but because THEY DIRECTLY PARALLEL SAM AND DEAN!!!

claire is driven by parental grief and revenge, she holds grudges, is stubborn and quick to anger, is queer and searches for purpose and drive through hunting, finding comfort in violence but also having self-destructive tendencies.

jack has powers literally no one else has, he’s important to lucifer, and angels and demons in general. he’s a kind and well-meaning person with the potential for great evil, and is misunderstood and mistreated because of what he is / what he can do.

he’s also young and naive, juxtaposed with claire who is also young and naive but has a lot of harrowing and character-building life experience. she’s a character often made into the daughter, or the younger sister - here, she could so easily be a big sister, the dean to jack’s sam, which would be a great way to develop her character and show her growing into adulthood.

i would’ve KILLED for a bottle episode of jack and claire going on their own journey in baby (or any car, but yk, for the vibes), perhaps to save the boys / cas, where these parallels were explored. maybe an almost play by play reenactment of the pilot, where they need to “find their dad” in a similar way. considering all the different characters they used to comment on sam and dean’s relationship, i could SO easily see this being a s13-14 episode, literally grieving the fact that it never happened because AAAH IT’S SO PERFECT

[chthonic-kids]

THE HANGED MAN Wisdom, circumspection, discernment, trials, sacrifice, intuition, divination, prophecy. Reversed: Selfishness, the crowd, body politic.

[icebluecyanide]

I think the funniest Yassen moment in the books that still cracks me up every time is when Cray is like 'what was up with the bullfight? I think you may have known he would survive' and Yassen is like 'I hoped he would', right to Cray's face, and gets annoyed with Cray for questioning his motives lmao

[frederikvesti]

Pato O’Ward prior to the start of Race 1 of the 2024 Hy-Vee Milwaukee Mile 250s.

[blairdii]

one of the dts producers saying that there are literal fans out there who do not watch the actual f1 season, just so they won't get spoilers for the next season of dts, is making me wail and ask the universe what crime i committed in my past life to be cursed with this coexistence.

[expelliarmus-percabeth]

they're in-laws now btw

(anyway the pines brothers dont do double dates anymore because one time it ended in their dates literally trying to kill each other)

[thegaycondor]

*sees another billford fanart with a human bill that looks not a day over 23* *gripping my fists tightly* it's other peoples opinions and other peoples art its other peoples opinion and other peoples art it's other peoples opinions and other peoples art it's--

[elderwisp]

◁ || ▷

Mortimer: As I’m sure you’re aware, I go through countless stories, many following the same shell of what is palpable to others. Oftentimes I don’t see enough risk but it makes total sense. We consume media to get away from our problems. Not to be reminded of them. Which leads me to my next question. A sapphic love story set in gritty fantasy. The heroine loses her love in the end. The ultimate sacrifice. What made you decide that?

Taryn: Because neither concepts can exist without one another. To have someone is to be willing to lose them. L'amour et la mort. Love and death. 

Mortimer: Have you ever lost someone?

Taryn: [ remains silent ]

Mortimer: Pain recognizes pain, Taryn. My wife… She went missing nearly ten years ago. Vanished without a trace. All that was left were her items, physical remnants of who she was.

Taryn: I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t know.

Mortimer: No need. I lost myself for a good while. Being the father of two wasn’t enough to pull me out of it. Time passed by and well, here I am. I’m not sure if I’ll ever find someone again, as for you, you will learn how to love again. I believe this story could help a lot of people in their grief.

Taryn: You really think so?

Mortimer: Mhm. So if I signed you on, are you willing to commit on this journey with my company and I?

Taryn: Y-Yeah. Absolutely.

Mortimer: Congratulations, Taryn. 

-

Kai: How do you think it went?

Alex: Judging that it’s almost been an hour, great. 

Kai: Cool.

Alex: Are you nervous for her?

Kai: I- Yeah. I am. 

Alex: She’ll be okay. He was already planning on signing her.

Kai: Why did you say anything?!

Alex: It’d ruin the surprise and there’s no fun in that.

Kai: You’re awful. She was so nervous! Literally almost crashed the car.

Alex: She was, wasn’t she? My bad. 

Taryn: [ silent yelling ] Hola muchachitos.

Kai: ] I am so proud of you! 

Taryn: Thank you! Also I have you to thank!

Alex: Nah, I just sped up the inevitable process. That book was bound to get published. I read it, I hope you don’t mind.

Taryn: Alex!

Alex: Whu? I liked it!

Taryn: Hmph. Come over for dinner?

Alex: I’d like that, if Kai’s alright with it. He did tell me how terrible I am earlier.

Taryn: Would you stop being mean to the man?

Kai: Maybe… But I guess it’s fine if you came over.

Alex: Sweet. I heard your cooking is divine.

Taryn: I know a trick or two. This one could learn.

Kai: I almost caught the toaster on fire.

Alex: Sounds about right-

Kai: Rude!

[drop-dead-dropout]

OKAY KDJEHDHDNDZHXHX I'M DONE WITH THAT FIC NOW HERE IT IS LOL

it's like 1.5k words (look I'm trying to write longer fics but there's only so much you can write when it's just One Guy Talking okay 💔)

I just made up a fake birthday for kim, I don't think he has a canon one? lmk if I'm wrong. also I am so so sorry for the random references to a le retour fic in my drafts which is probably never going to get finished... maybe one day lmao

April 19, '78

"I made it, Harry," you half-whisper reverently. Talking any louder is hard these days, decades of smoking finally catching up to you— and besides, you know he can hear you anyways.

(He can always hear you.)

"You never said, but I don't think you believed I would. Honestly, I don't blame you. I didn't either. It was a fantasy, a story I could tell myself when I was afraid. When I wanted to imagine that everything could turn out alright. But I made it. Seventy years old in a free Revachol— well, a mostly-free Revachol, in any case. And still on two feet, no less!" You set your cane on the ground and sit down on the grass, feeling a sigh rattle in your chest. "Jean says hello. Don't worry, he'll come back to see you next week, but... It just hit him. That this summer, he'll be the same age as you were. I think he needs a moment." Stretching your arms over your head, a slight groan escapes you, your aged limbs protesting the strain. "They had him and I give a talk at some local high school. Did I tell you that? Oh, you'd laugh and laugh if you met those kids. They had so many questions, and almost all of them were very silly."

Time passes. It tends to do that. A gentle spring breeze rustles the branches of the trees above you, and you inhale, a wave of calm overtaking you. You come here as often as you can, rambling for far too long about any old thing that pops into your head. You like to think he'd appreciate it, and... It's the only place you feel at home these days.

(You wonder if this is what palesickness feels like. A bone-deep ache that you can't quite bring yourself to hate. A fond smile on your lips even as grief and yearning gnaw through your ankles like twin dogs, starving and desperate. A tender feeling in your chest as you return to your memories again and again, the green of his eyes catching the light, his arms around you, the way he said your name.)

(You don't dwell on it.)

"And yes, they did ask about you." Your voice is lilting, smug, because you know he would've asked. "The three of us are something of a legend around here, you know, especially you. Apparently evacuating a whole city, through a section of underground tunneling that no one was even sure still existed is, ah, mildly impressive. Though most of the kids were more interested in seeing if the rumors were true— about the amnesia, and the voices especially. I wanted to be honest, and Jean seemed more than happy to reminisce. But the teachers were shooting us dirty looks for telling their young and impressionable pupils about such fantastical things, so we had to keep it vague."

As you take off your glasses for a moment to wipe away a few stubborn smudges on the lenses, you blink a few times, disoriented at your sudden loss of vision. "Speaking of our reputations, did you know they have a saying these days? Le rêveur, l'aviateur, le commandant. You, me, and Jean's old titles. It basically means 'to envision what must be done, to carry yourself to your goal, and to have the strength to see it through'. I heard someone say it the other day and I turned towards them, as if they were calling my name..." You chuckle, shaking your head. "... I suppose it still shocks me sometimes, how much we accomplished. How much we mattered."

Tilting your head up, you try to make out shapes in the clouds, the way he always used to. It's a fruitless endeavor— your distance vision may be relatively intact, but you never had his imagination. But that's alright. Even if the sky is just a meaningless swirl of colors, it's still beautiful to you. "Anyways, I'm getting off-topic. I meant to tell you, at one point they asked about us. What I was to you. How I knew so much. Why we were always so close." A light puff of amusement escapes you, despite yourself. "I swear Jean was almost purple, the way he held in his laughter. Mister Kitsuragi, my sister says you were secretly brothers, but Jessica's mum told me his eyes were green, and your eyes aren't green. Were you adopted? Kids say the funniest things. If this were a decade ago, if I was still RCM, I would've just lied. Though perhaps not with such an improbable explanation. It's just..."

Your left hand drifts up, out of habit, to the twine around your neck.

But you don't wear the ring on your neck anymore, do you? You wear it on your finger, where it should be. Because you can.

"When Toussaint, the lazy old fool, finally got around to marriage equality back in '71, I personally requested that same week for the judiciary to make it official for us. I doubt they would've bothered for anyone else. It's posthumous, after all... Not useful for much other than sentiment, and a bit of an odd request either way. But, like I said before, our names carry a lot of weight." A wistful smile tugs at your lips. "So, when that child asked me that ridiculous question, up on that stage in front of a crowd of nearly two thousand, I showed them my ring and I called myself your husband for the first time. And no, it doesn't count that we were already saying it to each other," you quip. "It went over well. I wasn't worried, of course. It's '78; two men being in love is hardly a matter of life or death these days. But... It made me miss you. Not in the quiet way I always do, but in a way that hurts like it hasn't hurt in years." You swallow, more embarrassed by the naked longing in your voice than the admission itself. "So I've brought you something. Isn't that funny? Giving you a gift on my birthday. You'll have a lot to make up for when I see you again." The chiding words are undercut by the grin you can't quite hide as you dig through your messenger bag.

When you find what you're looking for— a weathered Mnemotechnique A6, torn in a few places, practically ancient— you place it on the ground in front of him, opening the cover to admire the flower pressed into its first page. "I can't believe I managed to hold on to this old thing. It's from when we first met, in Martinaise. Jean had the idea to press a flower in, so I picked a may bell. I thought you'd like it— you always used to like them, and I suppose they've grown on me, too."

Closing the notebook, you slide it closer to him, warmth blooming in your lungs like the first drag of a cigarette on a cold night. "So, let me promise you something, as if we were young fools in love, rather than the relics of the past we are." You reach out and rest your hand on the headstone, tender, like you're cupping his cheek. "I'll find you again, Harrier. I promise I will return to your side."

Bracing yourself, you attempt to stand up, but a jolt of pain sparking up your unsteady legs forces you grit your teeth and rest your achy bones for a moment.

(You try not to be secretly grateful for the excuse to stay just a bit longer. You fail.)

With a breath of laughter, you add under your breath, "Sooner rather than later, I think. But, it's as they say: après la vie, la mort..."

You lean forward and press your lips against cold, porous rock.

Somehow, for a brief moment, you could almost convince yourself that you were kissing him on the forehead— bidding him farewell, or perhaps goodnight. You like the second option better.

(You hope the morning comes soon.)

"... Après la mort, toi," you say, altering the line. It feels right. There is nothing after the pale, and you can't possibly know what's after death, but you know one thing: you will see him again. Pulling back, you stare for a moment at the words on his grave— you can't read it this close, but you already know exactly what it says, tracing your fingers over the indented lettering.

HARRIER DU BOIS

AGED 61 ('07-'68)

SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL IS GOING TO HAPPEN

Finally, you manage to retrieve your cane and bag and get to your feet. After a few steps, you stop, turning back around to add, "I love you, Harry," because you've just realized that you haven't said it yet. You almost want to apologize for forgetting.

It's just that it feels unnecessary. Redundant. Everything you do is loving him. You've sat here with him and rambled for nearly an hour, and you've said so many different words, and yet somehow, at the same time, all of them were the same.

A million different ways to say I love you.

Not for the first time, you find yourself huffing with amusement— Jean is right, you really have become more like him, if your this is where your train of thought is leading you. A disorganized and poetic mess. You nearly open your mouth to voice this observation to him, but... You stop yourself. You don't need to. He heard you.

(He can always hear you.)

[piastrihub]

Watching team torque with oscar before williams killed logan and i swear i feel it in the the air and in the direction of the wind plus the higher powers told me that something happened between them at some point in time

Question was "what would you do if you woke up in each others bodies" immediately they look at each other and laugh and alex is just there and you just know in that second they thought of the implications of that the implications being seeing each others dicks. Yeah their dicks and balls. And then before that logan said Fun fact we actually arrived in china together in the same flight :D and alex asked oh did you travel together. Sleep together? ? Once again immediately they look at each other and laugh like 14y olds all awkward and only then alex understands his inadvertent innuendo. Oscar tries to salvage the situation by saying Yeah we were in the same row actually and it was raining hard asf but the damage was already done. The implication is already there. The implication being that they fucked nasty in the plane. Now im imagining it. And to me it is now true. And the implication is there for the rest of the question until they move on

[repmet]

@rwrbmovie & @rwrbsource’s rwrbweek: Day 6 | Kiss

Nose kisses

[mastersprogram]

Happy Pride Month!

[bispacecowboi]

The way my best friend gets it

[vanillacoke25]

couldn’t The chamber be…….a metaphor…….for being closeted……..

[mr-cia-adler]

who are you you're not my david mason

this man (right) has got me scratching my temple like I'm studying some intense mind game I can't wrap my head around

like father like son