mostlygaymarvelstuff

[mostlygaymarvelstuff]

Here’s an invaluable writing resource for you.

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Superman: Red Son (2020), dir. Sam Liu

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Anyone have the gif’s of the Chilean goalkeeper Christiane Endler lifting two of her teammates with ease.

I need them for um reasons lol

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credit

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My Love Took Me Down To The River To Silence Me

We left at dawn and arrived at the river by noon.

He led me there, hand in mine, step by step, down to the bank. He sat me down to a picnic and we shared a glass of wine. He then pulled a hatchet from the basket and told me to lay my head down.

I refused, saying that it would sully the blanket.

So we moved to the sand and I laid on my back, gazing back up at the man hovering above me, with an inoffensive backdrop of heavy clouds. He gave me a sorry look, a curly curtain fallen in front of his face. He just stared at me like that. I just smiled at him.

“You look ridiculous right now, I’ll have you know,” my voice carried nothing but warmth.

He squinted a little. I wished his expression was cold, but it stayed apologetic, like he was having doubts. He then lets his head tilt to the side and mocks, “Says the guy lying in wet sand asking me to kill him.”

Keep reading

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Hi! A little background on this piece, since it’s so different from what I usually post:

- I wrote it for my advanced writing class

- I wanted to submit it for Scholastic, but I thought the deadline was today (it was yesterday)

- I wrote this based on the title. The title comes from the song by Little Green Cars

- I am really proud of this piece

- It is gay because I assigned numbers to sexualities (1 is wlw, 2 is straight, 3 is mlm) and asked my friend to choose a number at random without knowing what it was for. She chose 3

- This is my typical writing style. The rough draft of this (which was a page and a half and ended with a much more unrealistic conclusion) took me four hours to write. This version took four days because I kept revising and writing more

- This is from my short collection Biscuits Slaughtered With Butter Knives, which I wrote for that class. I have other pieces (one other short story called Fields of Clover and a piece of flash fiction called Charles Bonnet)

I would love some feedback from the people who read my fics. Do you like my more traditional style (seen here) or my more simplified language (seen elsewhere)? Do you want me to post my other short stories?

My Love Took Me Down To The River To Silence Me

We left at dawn and arrived at the river by noon.

He led me there, hand in mine, step by step, down to the bank. He sat me down to a picnic and we shared a glass of wine. He then pulled a hatchet from the basket and told me to lay my head down.

I refused, saying that it would sully the blanket.

So we moved to the sand and I laid on my back, gazing back up at the man hovering above me, with an inoffensive backdrop of heavy clouds. He gave me a sorry look, a curly curtain fallen in front of his face. He just stared at me like that. I just smiled at him.

“You look ridiculous right now, I’ll have you know,” my voice carried nothing but warmth.

He squinted a little. I wished his expression was cold, but it stayed apologetic, like he was having doubts. He then lets his head tilt to the side and mocks, “Says the guy lying in wet sand asking me to kill him.”

Keep reading

[mostlygaymarvelstuff]

My Love Took Me Down To The River To Silence Me

We left at dawn and arrived at the river by noon.

He led me there, hand in mine, step by step, down to the bank. He sat me down to a picnic and we shared a glass of wine. He then pulled a hatchet from the basket and told me to lay my head down.

I refused, saying that it would sully the blanket.

So we moved to the sand and I laid on my back, gazing back up at the man hovering above me, with an inoffensive backdrop of heavy clouds. He gave me a sorry look, a curly curtain fallen in front of his face. He just stared at me like that. I just smiled at him.

“You look ridiculous right now, I’ll have you know,” my voice carried nothing but warmth.

He squinted a little. I wished his expression was cold, but it stayed apologetic, like he was having doubts. He then lets his head tilt to the side and mocks, “Says the guy lying in wet sand asking me to kill him.”

“C’mon. It’s better for the both of us. You know that it is.”

He sat back and rolled his eyes, “Are you sure we have to do this now? We could have another day together, just you and me. Then we can do all this business, but… I’m not sure I can do this quite yet.”

I sat up too. “Why not?”

“I… I don’t know. The whole ‘dark magic’ mumbo jumbo is a little far-fetched.”

“And backed by science. You want to be rich and famous in this life and others, just kill me! I’ll find you some way or another, the next time around.”

He just shakes his head, “But I don’t want to live out this time without you.”

We both sat in silence for just a moment before I bit my lip, “Well, either you’re going to kill me, or I’m going to kill you, then your sister is going to kill me and we’ll both be dead.”

“But we’ll already be on to the next life.”

“Or you can live this one out. Just without me. What’s so bad about that?” I ask, then lay back down.

He sighs heavily and puts the axe down, laying with me for just a moment.

“Who’s to say that there even is a next time around?”

“We already agreed that there is. It’s true. Energy is conserved; it never goes away, just comes back in a different form. And you and me– we already agreed, we’re soulmates. We’ll find each other in every lifetime. The next one will just get to be twice as good, ‘cause we won’t have to watch a stupid lighthouse and work nine hours a day, six days a week.”

“Or we’ll have the same hours, but we’ll work in a mine,” he rebuts.

“Mm. Or you’ll be some wealthy aristocrat who just so happens to notice that the boy who does your laundry looks staunchly good in tweed and want to show me off to all your aristocrat friends.”

“Am I a woman in this story?”

“If you want to be. Or we can be somewhere like France, where everyone just sits around, reads poetic men describe the perfect man... and tolerate it because it’s in verse.”

He just rolls his eyes and tosses some sand on my shoulder, “God, you’ve got to stop reading all that French garbage…”

“Do you hate the French?”

“Of course not!”

“What? We can afford the books, we can read. They translate that stuff for people like us.”

“Or for the wives of wealthy men.”

“Oh, I wish I was the wife of a wealthy man! That’s why we’re doing this. Come on. Just say the words and behead me!”

He turned his back to me with those words. I reached up and traced the lines of his back. He just looks down, “We can still live this life. Then we can do all this…”

“And if we live this life, it’ll be decades before we get to live our next one,” I hum, sitting up and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Decades of Benjamin Trouts…”

“Or of À La Recherche Du Temps Perdu,” he teased.

“That’s different. People will find out about us,” I remind him.

“We’ll keep our affairs private.”

“If you truly believe that matters, you’re delusional.”

He faces me with desperate eyes, flitting between my face and my neck, “Just… time. We still have time. We don’t need to do this now.”

I place my hands on his, “If we put this off, we’ll never do it.”

“And what’s so terrible about that?”

I shake my head at him, then look down.

“If we had a little more time–” he starts. I interrupt him.

“We should have another glass of wine.”

A glass and a half later, the tidal river was licking at our blanket. The hatchet was wet enough to rust, and, most tragically, my head was still attached to my neck. The silence was suffocating, but not in the right way.

“You could poison me,” I say.

“Why does this have to end with you dead?”

“How could it end with me alive?” I ask in response. “The future would be bright. You’d be rich, I’d be there in the next life, right by your side.”

He just looks down and shakes his head, “But is it worth it?”

“Worth what? A life? This is just one of dozens, thousands. And we’ll ensure that this one will help the future when we’re living in… 1974, or 2038 or 2609.”

He sighed and turned to me, “But I want to live out the rest of this one with you. Grow old, have a family.”

“None of that is ensured. You can find someone after me.”

“Who would want to be with the man who killed his last lover?”

I just shrugged, “Well, do you think you’d tell them?”

“It would be dishonest not to!”

Silence covered us like a fresh blanket of snow, with sound fizzling out until neither of us knew what to say.

It took a moment for me to articulate my words, “I want what’s best for you. And us. And our future. This is a small sacrifice.”

“Small?”

“Yes, small. In the grand scheme of things,” I sit upright, just before him. “And it’s what I want.”

He gave me a sad look, then looked at the hatchet, brushing off some dirt. “I’m not… I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

I chuckle, “I think you’ve known me long enough to know that.”

“And you’re not even going to give me one more day?” he asks, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood on the side of his tongue.

“One more day might be too many. Just… do this. For me.”

He slowly stands and walks away, putting both hands on top of his head, “And if this works…?”

“Easy lives. Forever. For the rest of eternity, every time we live a new life.”

“And if it doesn’t?” He turns back to face me.  

I shrug. “You try to find a new guy to work the lighthouse with you and I get to see you the next time around.”

“You’re awful casual about all this.”

“I have to be. Otherwise, you’d freak out.”

He scrunches his nose at me. I continue.

“Plus, I’d rather be calm in my final moments in this lifetime. This is normal. I’ve died dozens of times before, this is just routine.”

“I certainly would not call sacrifice ‘routine’.”

“You know, the Romans sacrificed animals all the time. And the Aztecs sacrificed people too. And I think Jesus’s whole thing was sacrifice, and–”

“I get it,” he kept his voice calm as he walks over. “Stop talking about world history or I might kill you in the wrong way.”

I laughed, genuinely finding it funny. He forced a chuckle, though it was deprived of mirth.

I just sat back. “Do you know who told me about the Aztecs? A German delivering a boat’s load of those Lancaster Thirty-Eights. A German.”

“Maybe we should move to Germany. Then you can read their history books ‘till you stuff your head full.”

“In the next life. I doubt they have much use for English-speaking lighthouse managers overseas.”

I lay down. The sand felt cold and sharp against my back and I could feel the gentle bustle under the surface. The tide refused to come any higher, but the man standing several yards away stepped slightly closer. I start speaking again.

“Anyway– even though this may not be routine for you, it has been for other people. So don’t feel too terrible about all of this.”

“I feel pretty terrible,” he admits.

“Too terrible to do it?” I ask.

“I… no. Not too terrible to do it. You want this…” he repeats it again, under his breath. “You want this…”

“I do.”

“And I’ll do it! I’m going to do it.”

I shut my eyes and tilt my head up, waiting for the blow. I wish I knew why, just for a moment, I felt a tinge of fear. A little more than a tinge, really. I was scared. But my love took the hatchet in both hands and as he approached, the sound of wet sand condensing under his boots made my fear disappear.

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Love you 💖💖💖

REBLOG if you have amazing, talented WRITER friends.

Because I certainly do, and I love every single one of them and their work.

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Like to charge reblog to cast!

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“….That’s cheating.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Hanukkah Sameach!

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Elizabeth Olsen for Vs. Magazine (2015).

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Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015) | Deleted Scene

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looking for marvel blogs to follow

if you post any combination of these and are active, please like/reblog this post and i will check your blog out :)

marvel women (no hate/antis)

marvel wlw fanfiction (reader inserts/ships)

natasha romanoff

incorrect quotes

meta

animals

quotes

art/design/photography

gay content in general

tagging system (preferably)

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Good Types of Tropes For H/C

No Pain Killers Available

Gotta Stay Quiet To Avoid Discovery

Feverish Delirium And Mumbling

Cowboy Medicine: Whiskey Internally & Externally Applied

Huddling For Warmth

Desperate Hand-Holding

“Breathe, Just Breathe”

Protectively Cradling A Broken Arm

The Word ‘Winced’

Whimpering

“Easy, Easy There”

Being Carried; Bridal, Fireman’s, Two-Person, Doesn’t Matter- Being Carried

Coughing, or, God-Forbid, Sneezing, With Broken Ribs

Fainting

Waking Up Not Knowing Where They Are

Animal Attack

DIY Bullet-Removal

Field-Medicine in General

Blankets/Shirt Collar Shifting Just Enough To Have Bandages Peeking Out

Gentle Shushing

Needing Help To Drink From A Glass

Brushing Hair From Brow

Collapsing Off Of Horse

Dramatic Irony Injury Reveal (Audience Knows About It But Other Characters Do Not)

Frantically Feeling For Breath Or Pulse

(feel free to add on!)

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12.18.19 life update

Haha sorry for dropping off the face of the earth. Life sped up and the only stuff I’ve been writing hasn’t been fanfic at all; I have some original stuff I’d like to upload if y’all are interested, but I’ll be working on some one-shots for now (it’s hard for me to really get into the Natasha character since I’ve never really written her before; I also want to explore Wanda and Yule, since I’m not familiar with pagan religion but I’d love to learn more about it). 

Midterms are happening now and since I’m in junior year, it’s been really busy (I’m only taking 3 APs but it’s hard). I’m generally inspired but since I’m working on getting back w my ex, a lot of my inspiration is spent talking to her. Send in requests tho! It’ll keep me busy and give me something to write for. 

I have two exams tomorrow, but I’ll be free most of Friday and Saturday (unless I go shopping for thot clothes for a party on Saturday nite), then all day Sunday (except for wrapping some Christmas presents for my friends). I’d love to have some requests to work through during my time off! :)