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@practicefortheheart I are collabing! For this piece, I wrote a 500-word fic, and Nina drew a beautiful piece inspired by it! Next, Nina will draw and I will write inspired by their art!
See their INCREDIBLE art here:
And read the fic below!
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Homesick
The flower sparkles with dew, its thousands of concentric yellow petals mesmerizing, calling Jim to kneel beside it. It reminds him of Earth's sun, Iowa summers, though he is further from his childhood home than he has ever been. Further than any man has ever been, in fact.
"Captain," Spock says, casting a shadow over the flower before Jim even lifts his eyes. "It would be unwise to fall too far behind the landing party."
The voices of Jimâs crewmates echo off the trees and into the depths of this strange and alien forest, as their bright uniforms disappear behind the foliage. They have a mission on this planet. They always do.
"Join me," Jim says. He scoots to the side, and motions to the spot where his knees have left wet indents in the loam and soil.Â
Spock hesitates. But heâs used to Jim's whims by now, maybe even fond of indulging them. He tucks his tricorder to his chest and kneels, letting the dappled sunlight through the canopy once again shine over the flower. It's the only one like it in this clutch of grass, in the whole forest as far as Jim can tell.
Jim wonders if it's lonely.Â
"I wanted to pick it," Jim murmurs, as Spock reaches forward to touch a light fingertip to an even lighter petal. "But I don't see any others. Can you imagine if my sentimentality eradicated an entire species of flora?" He chuckles to himself, smiles.
"You are feeling sentimental?" Spock asks. He withdraws his touch, a glimmer of dew clinging to his finger.Â
"Always," Jim admits. âIâve been homesick.â He tilts his head to look at Spock, how beautiful and calm he is, how close.
Spock nods, understanding as he understands everything about Jim, that Jim wouldn't trade his life of exploration for anything.
âIt is an aesthetically pleasing specimen,â Spock says, which isn't what he actually means. He means âI hear you. I see you. I am here with you.âÂ
A curious call echoes through the trees, no doubt the landing party realizing their superior officers have strayed. And Jim closes his eyes, sighs. Reluctantly, he puts his hands on his knees and shoves himself to his feet.
âThey're ringing the dinner bell, Mister Spock,â he says. But Spock is stuck in place beside the little flower. Before Jim can even think to stop him, Spock reaches forward and plucks the bloom at its stem with a tiny snap.Â
âSpock!â Jim practically gasps. Spock stands, unfazed.
âI have observed many of these plants budding throughout the forest. This one is not the last of its kind, merely the first to bloom.â Almost childlike, he holds the flower out to Jim. âYou will enjoy it.â
Jim stares at the flower for all of a moment before the blush rises on his cheeks. He reaches out. Their fingers brush. He doesn't let go of the flower, and neither does Spock, and their eyes lock and Jimâs heart flutters, and suddenly --
Suddenly, Jim isn't homesick at all.
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Two of my fics have been nominated for this honor, and it is so cool to see the other INCREDIBLE creators and fanworks on this list!!! Please read and view all of the entries and vote starting Sept. 10!
And THANK YOU for the nominations!!! It is such a pleasure to be creating with this fandom again đđ
Philon Awards 2024 Shortlist
(in alphabetical order of the title; shortlist based on the results of the nominations phase)
Short fic (word count under 10K):
And Filled With Tomorrows by Android_And_Ale
A Perfect Fit by ThereBeWhalesHere
Cherubim by vanilla_extract
Engineering a Fantasy by CampySpaceSlime
Fly Over My Grave Again by gunstreet
Harrekh t'Harrekhi by CampySpaceSlime
How to Win Plants and Influence Lizards by indeedcaptain
Seeing, Unseeing by Jenna Hilary Sinclair (JennaHilary)
The Mess Hall Incident (or why Bones really wants to eat his salad alone, thank you)Â by discorporating
The Sight of a Touch, or the Scent of a Sound by Moreta1848
Long fic (word count 10K-50K):
All Things Fall and Are Built Again by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin)
DESK JOBSÂ by WerewolvesAreReal
How Do I Know He's Mine by HDDrabble
Hurt by ThereBeWhalesHere
Please Don't Take Him Just Because You Can by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin)
Space age country girl, stone cold miracle by thembonesthembones
the fine print, and other things james t. kirk doesn't read by onlyafterhours
the yeomen of the garden (and laundry)Â by cicak
Way from Within by gunstreet
Novella/novel (word count over 50K):
Bodyguard by BurningAmber
Grief as a four-dimensional figure by Moreta1848
I Shall Do Neither by onwhatcaptain
It's Not An Illusion by Borealisblue
mol-kur by uhuraprime
Quell the Cosmic Tides by Plus3Charisma
Regulatory Relations by indeedcaptain
The Exiles by Moreta1848
The rebel and the nerd by Moreta1848
The recitation of names by Moreta1848
Podfic:
Blood Fever (written by T'Lara)Â by 1lostone
I must confess (written by USS_Queertastic)Â by 1lostone
milk and honey (written by spaceisgay)Â by foundbyjohndoe
milk and honey (written by spaceisgay)Â by cookiemom6067
The 1,000 Hour Sleep (written by spqr)Â by cookiemom6067
Traditional art:
Alright mr Spock by knezidon
kiss by vanilla-phantoms
Parading with Pride by Purple_Enma
Spock's Tattoo by SButler (Shelley Butler)
Tender Hands by Purple_Enma (Tumblr post)
The Ritual by Purple_Enma (Tumblr post)
Digital art:
(untitled Spock nude)Â by spirk-my-love (Florian Gray)
By the Fireplace by lorvee
Captains' Gambit (comic)Â by lorvee (Tumblr post)
Commission for BurningAmber's fic "Bodyguard"Â by asyncamestel
Harrekh t'Harrekhi by Purple_Enma (Tumblr post)
Mess by eldar_of_zemlya
Morning Sex by nightcrawler1
TALKING TO GHOSTSÂ by emilinqa
Vulcan's Forge by CelestialVoyeur (Tumblr post)
Poetry:
all of me, unguarded by indeedcaptain
blanket me by USS_Queertastic (BoldlyQueertastic)
Shared Space by CelestialVoyeur (poem is chapter 6 in a collection of poems)
The Curious Case of Captain Kirk by CelestialVoyeur (poem is chapter 5 in a collection of poems)
to have and to hold by CateAdams
Zines:
KiScon 2023 Official Zine (editor: 1lostone) (download link)
Wild Heart â A NSFW AOS Spirk zine (editors: borbtrek, remylebae, nicbutnasty) (download link)
You can also see the shortlist on this Google spreadsheet. Make a copy to have your own spreadsheet to keep track of what you've already read and how you liked it.
Voting will open on 10 September 2024! Stay tuned for the announcement. You can also find this shortlist plus the rules and explanations concerning the voting process on the KiScon website.
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Now that's marvellous!
#what happens in the void sounds spicier outside the void#great things happened to wade and logan which brought them closer#and then we have bucky's special admirer as well#deadpool and wolverine#wade wilson#james logan howlett#johnny storm the human torch#bucky barnes#poolverine#deadclaws#stucky#old man yaoi#imagine your otp#otp writing prompts#marvel memes#mcu avengers edits#ryan reynolds and hugh jackman#chris evans and sebastian stan#deadpool x wolverine#mischievous thunder
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more on this fic because QuirkCire commented "Theo fanboying over Yor and Twilight mistaking it for interest in her because he also kinda fanboys over Yor too was hilarious" and. LMAO UR SO RIGHT
#theo: looks at yor with admiration because she is his mentor#twilight: obviously he must be in love with her because when i look at her like that all i can think about is how much i love her#spy x family#my art#my writing#sxf fic#sxf#loid forger#yor forger#twiyor
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flirty playboy x mature male reader
this stupid ass meme had been on my mind forever and i realised how funny it would be to have a slutty playboy who just sleeps with anyone to seriously pine over a more mature, secure guy who doesn't fall for any of his shallow charms and tricks.... here are just some blurbs of their dynamic (˔ áŽÂŹË”)
his name is roman. he's a little toxic, but he just wants to be loved.
cw: some smut, top male reader
it all started with a little night out. you didn't do those often, due to devoting most of your time towards work and earning a stable career, but finishing this particularly gruelling assignment called for a celebration. at the bar, dancing with your friends, a good-looking man with a playful glint in his eyes approached you full of bravado. he told you how handsome you were, and had been eyeing you from across the room for a while now. but from a single glance, you could tell he was the type to break hearts. beach-blonde dyed hair, a tight fitting tank top revealing his muscular build, an eyebrow piercing, the way his mouth curled up so subtly into a little smirk.... he was everything you knew to avoid getting serious with. but a little hookup couldn't hurt, right? you deserved a little fun.
and it didn't hurt you at all. a few failed relationships had made you wise beyond your years, knowing to easily seperate the good guys from the bad. you knew your self-worth. roman, on the other hand, was absolutely smitten. no other man had fucked him THIS good, gave him such gentle aftercare, and even let him stay as long as he needed. the way you so effortlessly lifted his legs up to thrust in and out of him at a rhythmic pace, or fondling his tits and squeezing his nipples softly while you hit it from the back, or tenderly running your fingers down his spine, arching it sensually.... he loved it all. it was clear to him that you prioritised his pleasure as much as your own, and it showed in how he orgasmed several times before you even came in him once, panting breathlessly while wearing the sluttiest expression of his life. it was nothing like any of the men he had sex with before. afterwards, you let him stay the night in a guest room, and even brewed a cup of coffee for him in the morning.
roman was damn near tears when you offered to drop him off at his house before you headed off to work. if he was being honest with himself, his insecurities were the root of his constant need for sexual intimacy, so being treated with genuine kindness for once was new to him.
"is dropping you off here alright?" you ask, turning into the road of his apartment complex.
"y-yeah...." he looks out the window, unsure how to look you in the eyes.
"okay. thanks for last night. stay safe." your words carried an air of finality to them, like you were so sure the two of you would never cross paths again. he didn't like that.
"uh, uh......" he stuttered, all his usual flirtatiousness thrown out the window as he couldn't meet your gaze. "could i... get your number?"
your friendly smile froze on your face. "uhhhh.... sorry, i'm not really looking for anything serious right now."
he quickly regained his composure, charm turned up to the max. shifting his tank top so more of his chest was exposed and you could notice his nipples protruding, roman whispered in a low tone, "that's okay! we can just be casual... and fuck anytime you like." a wink. a hand on your thigh.
"jeez... okay, no offense, but i've heard rumours from my friends that you're a bit of a... playboy. i'm not interested in being your toy, sorry."
roman's face flushed in embarrassment, knowing what you said was true. except the part on him seeing you as a toy. that was untrue. he could feel a warmth growing from the pit of his stomach at the thought of spending more time with you. were these... butterflies?
maybe begging would work.
"okay fine, i am a bit of a player... but please, please, pleaseeeeeee.... let's be in contact, okay? as friends?" roman sniffled pathetically, shaking your shoulder in desperation. he needed to be in your presence. why weren't his usual maneating tactics working?!?!
"alright. here you go. just don't spam me or anything, okay? i gotta go for work. see you." you sigh, a little exasperated but choosing not to let it show. he immediately lit up, typing your number in his contacts and saving many hearts next to your name. you prayed your acts of basic human decency wouldn't cause him to catch feelings. you needed to focus on your job right now.
ËÊâĄÉË
3:02pm
[romanbabyxx]
hiiiiiii
[romanbabyxx]
i know you said not to spam you but like
[romanbabyxx]
i miss u
[romanbabyxx]
can we meet up at the bar for drinks or something like that? please?
3:10pm
you check the messages on your phone, rolling your eyes and ignoring them. he was probably sending this text to at least three other guys right now. he had a history of cheating, based on what you heard from your friends. you weren't going to be another one of his victims.
5:35pm
[romanbabyxx]
are u ignoring me?
[romanbabyxx]
im sorryyyyyyyy
[romanbabyxx]
pls hit me back when ur free
7.30 pm
[name]
sorry, just got off work. will be super busy this week, so not free. mb.
[romanbabyxx]
oh, its okay! next week then?
[name]
i'll see
this went on for a few weeks, you constantly evading his invitations, being polite and professional, never too intimate over text. roman was starting to get fed up. he's so used to getting everything he wants, he doesn't know what to do when he actually has to work for the one he desires. he actually hadn't hooked up with anyone since your one night stand, but you didn't believe that.
roman was at his wits' end. he could only think of one final plan to get your attention.
trying to make you jealous.
over the next week, he hooked up with any and everyone he met in the bar, not bothering to keep his slutting around discreet. he wanted you to hear the rumours. he wanted you to feel a sense of unease within your very being. he wanted you to feel possessive. he wanted you, to want him. the whole time, even as he was getting fucked, he could only imagine you caressing him, holding him close, loving him.
his deeds didn't go unnoticed. your friends told you about it, yet you didn't feel anything in the slightest. you were right, after all... he forgot about you within a week and moved on to whichever poor man he would leave high and dry next.
the next time you bumped into him at the bar, roman was his usual, party-loving self, excitedly slinging an arm around you, a drink in hand. his plan had to work, surely? you would be begging to have him back. but yet, when he offhandedly (yet so intentionally) mentioned how much dick he had been getting the past week, anticipating your change in expression, nothing happened. "oh. good for you." was all you said.
he sputtered, flustered by your calm demeanour. didn't you care? at all?! "but.... but.... aren't you jealous? that i've been hooking up with other guys?!"
you stare at him, a genuine quzzical expression plastered across your face. "why would i be? it's not like we're dating or anything. it was just a one time thing."
your words hit like a knife through his heart. he clutched his chest dramatically, a pout forming on his lips. "i'll be faithful! i promise!" his words came out more desperate than he intended. he felt so vulnerable, so naked, yet you were the face of serenity. your unimpressed eyes stared through his soul, as if you were scrutinising his very core. he knew you could heal him, make him feel loved, but he was starting to doubt there was any possibility you would feel the same.
"i'm sure that's what you said to the last guy you cheated on."
.
.
.
ËÊâĄÉË
i intended for this to be lighthearted but why was it actually kinda depressing tbh
#male reader#dom male reader#top male reader#bottom male character#sub male character#playboy x male reader#wrioluvr: roman#i admire ppl who can just write pure smut with graphic descriptions coz i end up spiraling into a full mini plot everytime crying emoji
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jon sims losing his mind in seasons two and three <333
the magnus archives has me in a serious chokehold right now
#my sister got me into it!!! shout out to her#I'm not done yet but I got about 25 episodes left :0#I'm scared#jonathan sims#fan art#the admiral#I can't help but draw characters with cats are you kidding me#this podcast... really exceeded my expectations.#SSSOOOOOO gay#I didn't know if all the stuff I saw was normal gay fanart that's based in hopeful delusion or if there was legit queer writing involved#martin.... i love you#the magnus archives#the archivist#I have thoroughly enjoyed jon's descent into madness#can't wait to start it all over again lol#anyway.... hope this reaches the people who will enjoy it#love from me 2 u#Edit: sorry people who already rbd I switched the line version of the first one to a color one
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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17
Or: a secret Admirer AU
PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16
Eddieâs back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where heâs hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.
Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissyâs arm, and says, âsorry, Steve. Iâm just gonnaââ and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.
Steveâs gut clenches with guilt. Heâd put that look on Eddieâs face, had caused the rift in his and Jeffâs friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.
âAre he and Jeff okay?â Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.
âI think so,â she says, looking after her boyfriend. âThey talked on the phone, but Jeff didnât tell me what about.â
âForget about them,â Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. âCome on, Stevie, or weâll be late to Ms. Clickity Clackâs class.â
Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like theyâd all talked behind his back and decided he couldnât be trusted with being alone right now. Steve canât blame them because as soon as heâs left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.
  Eddie â
  Iâm sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasnât for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And Iâm sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. Iâm just full of sorries Iâm to scared to tell to your faceâfrom the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldnât want me to anyway.
  Youâve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. Iâm sorry about that too, Iâm the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but thatâs no excuse.
  I donât know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I canât turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. Thereâs a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?
  Iâm sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, Iâll get to say it to your face.
  Sorry,
  Steve
He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesnât have to look at it. Sleep doesnât comeâthe house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.
âHâlo?â Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.
She sounds tiredâSteveâs sorry he woke her. âI wrote another letter,â he says.
That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, âSteven James Harrington.â
âNot my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,â he replies, talking right over her shrieked âwell, thatâs not mine!â to continue, âIâm not going to send it.â
âYou better not,â she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like sheâs settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.
âIs it stupid that I miss him?â he asks.
âYeah, kinda.â
âRobin!â
She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. âIâm just saying! Heâs been treating you like shit, Stevie.â
Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. âHe was different in the letters,â he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. âSweeter, you know?â
Robin sighs, âIâm sorry.â
âYeah, me too.â
Thereâs enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. Theyâre quiet for a while, Robinâs breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.
âI love you, Robbie,â he whispers. âYou know that, right?â
Heâs been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like theyâll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, heâll learn to be okay with that.
âLove you, too, Dingus,â Robin replies, like itâs easy.
He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robinâs quiet snoring.
***
Eddie thinks about itâobsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping thereâs another note in his lockerâthere never is.
âDude, whatâs your problem?â Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddieâs side.
âOw, ribs!â Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.
âSorry!â Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like thatâll somehow prove heâs harmless.
Jeff snorts around his sandwich, âgotta be careful, Gare-bear. Heâs precious cargo now.â
âOh fuck off,â Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.
âNo, but seriously, dude,â Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. âWhatâs up with you?â
Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissyâs usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that theyâre not eating, and itâs his fault.
Hopefully, theyâre just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (heâs been too afraid to check).
âCanât tell you buddy,â Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like thatâll somehow make the duo appear. âI promised.â
Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, âbut itâs about you know what?â
Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, âokay, you didnât tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?â
âSophomore, jackass!â Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeffâs sentence. âYou told Jeff?â
âI knew before you did,â Jeff says smugly, and Eddieâs starting to get pissed off about that again.
âHow!â
âJeff, dearest?â Eddie grits out. âDo you want me to punch you in the face?â
That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, âIâm coming over after school,â and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Garethâs indignant questions.
True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddieâs passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesnât take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.
Jeffâs the one who breaks the silence, in the end. âIâm sorry I didnât tell you,â he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. âSteve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying soââ
âHe was scared?â Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. Heâd known that, before, but now that Eddieâs afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.
âOf course he was,â Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. âIâm scared, too.â
Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesnât look away from his own knees.
âYeah?â
Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. âYeah.â His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. âAnd I know weâre supposed to be talking about us, but I justââ
âNo, hey,â Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeffâs hand is clasping Eddieâs shoulder, shaking him around just a little. âYouâre my best friendâweâre fine, dude.â
Eddie swipes at his eyes again, âI think I want to ask him out, but what if Iâm wrong?â Eddie asks, tracking Jeffâs expression out of the corner of his eye. âI donât want to hurt him again.â
âSo, what?â Jeff asks, voice deadpan. âYou find out he likes you and suddenly heâs not just a jock anymore?â
Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddieâs always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steveâs eyes during every D&D session, the way heâd glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supremeâs side in recent weeks. The way heâd look at Eddie like he wasnât the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.
âHe was never just a jock,â Eddie murmurs. âI just never let myself think about it.â
Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.
âI was afraid, okay?â Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. âYou wouldnât get it.â
At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, âright, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.â
Okay, fair.
âYou know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?â Jeff continues. âIâll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.â
âOkay, okay! I get it, sorry!â Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. âHowâs that going anyway?â
âWith Chrissy?â Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. âSheâs great, man. I really, really like her.â
Heâs smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as heâd flirted with her, thereâd always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.
âIâm happy for you.â
Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. âThanks, man.â
Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just canât help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.
âIf I ask Steve out, do you think heâll still say yes?â
âOh, for sure,â Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. âBut are you sure you want to?â
Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, âwhat do you mean?â
Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeffâs silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off.Â
âJeffââ
âNo oneâs ever liked you before!â Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. âAnd maybe itâs not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?â
âWhat?â Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. âWhat do youââ
âEddie, man,â Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. âDo you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?â
He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeffâs eye.Â
How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when itâs been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the personâs feeling for them?
Thatâs like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braidâit canât be done.
But, âGareth said I was obsessed with him,â Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. âLike, before I knew he wrote the letters?â
âYeah?â
âYeah.â Eddie laughs, but itâs just like Steve saidâit sounds different when he doesnât think itâs funny. âAnd, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldnât stop thinking about him.â
Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. âHeâs justâheâs Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!â Eddieâs smiling now, manic, animated. âAnd I wanted to know everything.â
Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadnât before, so Eddie keeps talking.
âLike, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didnât even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.â
âI know,â Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display.Â
âAnd when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?â
Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but heâs still grinning across at Eddie like heâs proud of him. Eddieâs kind of proud, too, that heâs managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time.Â
âOkay, you can ask him out,â Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more.Â
Eddie laughs. âOh, because I needed your blessing?â
âYeah,â Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like heâs a slab of meat Jeffâs checking for its quality. âMaybe wait until youâre healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.â
âShut up!â Eddie squawks, but heâs smiling, helplessly, hopefully.
Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who wouldâve thought?
PART 18
#koko's steddie secret admirer au#steddie#my fic#Jeff. the man that you are<3<3<3<3<3#i am...SO excited for tomorrow's part. like. after struggling Hard with it. it might have been the most fun i had in writing for the fic
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your body isn't your own
#monkey d luffy#koby one piece#eustass kid#killer one piece#described in alt text#my art#my comic#secret modern au#art is concept ect#here i wanted to see how much i could implied with as little dialogue as possible. worked best in the first comic tbh#luffy is intersex in this AU now! (and a cis man) it's smth i had considered multiple time but never settled on until now because#i wasn't sure what to do with it but with how the plot evolved it makes a lot of sense and fixes some parts.#it's funny! he was meant to have some undiagnosed vague hormone disorder but i decided it's likely pms/pmdd (and maybe smth else#he's got a lot going on) and you kind need an uterus for that sooo.#genderwise he went through various flavors of gnc cis guy to genderqueer to ??? but now i'm thinking cis guy is best.#* VICE admiral btw. this what happen when you write comic past midnight
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A Perfect Fit is now a Podfic! I spent more time on this than I did writing the original fic đ
Description below!
-----
It was a running joke on the Enterprise, that Captain Spock went through first officers like tribbles went through quadrotriticale. Spock found no humor in it, however. Six people had come and gone from his side over the year and a half he had been captain.
But a captain needed a first officer. And for now, at least, Spock needed Commander James Tiberius Kirk.
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I only had Steve repeating his senior year because I wanted the kids to know Eddie already, but thinking about it? This messes Steve up so so much more. He obviously met Robin, who asked a few pointed questions that made him go oh. about his life and his identity.
Heâs back for another year in high school because of post concussion symptoms. His parents are probably pissed. Heâs trying to rebuild his own sense of self without defining it with popularity, but heâs stuck in the place where he was the most popular before. And is now one of those loser super seniors.
Enter Eddie, who had been on Steveâs radar as a vague awareness of maybe-attraction in previous years. And the guy is protecting his kids. Encouraging them. Heâs also as close to Out as he can be in Hawkins. He knows who he is. Heâs unapologetic and doesnât let trends define him. Heâs who he wants to be. Of course thereâs hearteyes.
But Steve isnât comfortable with himself enough to talk to him directly. Hence the letters.
And maybe at first he wasnât even sure that Eddie liked getting them. Or was even reading them. Probably wrote about how he was anonymous because he didnât think Eddie would actually like him if he knew. Itâs been a theme from the start, and it was probably the first thing that Eddie talked about when he could finally write back.
Eddie totally said that anyone who wrote letters like that, who was that kind and clever and generous and funny, would always be someone Eddie liked. Loved. That it wouldnât matter if X was ugly, that it wouldnât even matter if X was a girl. That Eddie would still want to know them.
And thatâs when you have those insults. When Steve was finally finally brave enough to be around Eddie. To come to Hellfire. Because Eddie had promised in the letters to teach X how to play, that heâd be so so patient because X told him that he probably wasnât smart enough to play.
Eddie has to betray everything heâs said.
And it is specifically because Steve Harrington is anathema to Eddie.
Proof that who Steve wants to be, tries to be, is wanted, but who he is in real life, not on paper, isnât good enough.
(Yes, Robin had to be hugged into submission to keep her from slashing Eddieâs tires)
But, tag writer whose user name I canât recall, Steve didnât write his last letter in the car. He dropped off the boys, went home, and wrote something longer at first. He tried to find a way to explain to Eddie that heâs trying. That he wants to be a better person who Eddie would be happy to discover is X. He writes it, and he doesnât believe that it will ever happen. That he can ever be better.
Anyway, Steve totally gets Vecnaâd in this AU, and Eddie is one of the focal points.
#my writing#steddie#by the way i donât do tag lists#I also just kinda throw thoughts out there#anyone is welcome to hot potato them#multithreaded fics#are very cool to me#angsty secret admirer au
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Wade and Logan x In Another Universe quotes:
#wade and logan wished for their love so earnestly that it caused a multiversal ripple#they're the masters of manifestation#their adoration and admiration for each other are ethereal#happy birthday wade wilson#james logan howlett#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool 3#poolverine#deadclaws#peanutbub#old man yaoi#imagine your otp#otp prompts#writing promt#marvel memes#mcu avengers edits#ryan reynolds#hugh jackman#deadpool x wolverine#mischievous thunder
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IM OBSESSED WITH THIS WIZARD CAT GUYS PLEASE OMG
#I should go to sleep#but wizard car....#let me write the excerpt from my journal (which i pulled out after 9 months solely for wizard cat)#âwizard cat you have my entire heart i am enamored i am your ardent admirer your happiness is my happiness you could say im under your spell#O wizard cat to be in your presenceâ#im ill#dia talks
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imagine your f/o...
... writing you a love letter! they'd put careful care and consideration into every aspect of it - from the stationary to the pen they use to write to you. maybe their handwriting is naturally neat, or perhaps they write with such quick passion that it's harder to decipher. in any case, their letter is filling with nothing but compassionate words that they hope to use to brighten your day and make your heart feel warm âŠïž
dividers made for me by kynibyou! đ proshÂĄp dni.
#fun fact - ziggy and i first started out as pen pals!#i wrote him letters as a secret admirer because i was too nervous to talk to him#other than ziggy i feel like odysseus would write to me the most#he'd write long-winded love letters whenever the mood stikes him#and it strikes him a lot#f/o imagines#f/o imagine#self ship imagine#f/o scenarios#f/o stuff#f/o love#imagine your f/o#f/o community#fictional other#self shipping#self ship community#yumeship#yumeshipping#safeshipping#safeship community
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I guess this might be why the UK seemed to go so antisemitic so quickly
I'm researching the 1947 pogroms in the UK. (Actually, I'm researching all the pogroms and massacres of Jews in the past 200 years. Which today led me to discover that there were pogroms in the UK in 1947.)
From an article on "The Postwar Revival of British Fascism," all emphasis mine:
Given the rising antisemitism and widespread ignorance about Zionism [in the UK in 1947], fascists were easily able to conflate Zionist paramilitary attacks with Judaism in their speeches, meaning British Jews came to be seen as complicit in violence in Palestine.
Bertrand Duke Pile, a key member of Hammâs League, informed a cheering crowd that âthe Jews have no right to Palestine and the Jews have no right to the power which they hold in this country of ours.â Denouncing Zionism as a way to introduce a wider domestic antisemitic stance was common to many speakers at fascist events and rallies. Fascists hid their ideology and ideological antisemitism behind the rhetorical facade of preaching against paramilitary violence in Palestine.
One of the leagueâs speakers called for retribution against âthe Jewsâ for the death of British soldiers in Palestine. This was, he told his audience, hardly an antisemitic expression. âIs it antisemitism to denounce the murderers of your own flesh and blood in Palestine?â he asked his audience. Many audience members, fascist or not, may well have felt the speaker had a point. ...[The photo of two British sergeants hanged by the Irgun in retaliation for the Brits hanging three of their members] promptly made numerous appearances at fascist meetings, often attached to the speakerâs platform. In at least one meeting, several British soldiers on leave from serving in Palestine attended Hammâs speech, giving further legitimacy to his remarks. And with soldiers and policemen in Palestine showing increasing signs of overt antisemitism as a result of their experiences, the director of public prosecutions warned that the fascists might receive a steady stream of new recruits.
MI5, the U.K. domestic security service, noted with some alarm that âas a general rule, the crowd is now sympathetic and even spontaneously enthusiastic.â Opposition, it was noted in the same Home Office Bulletin of 1947, âis only met when there is an organized group of Jews or Communists in the audience.â
The major opposition came from the 43 Group, formed by the British-Jewish ex-paratrooper Gerry Flamberg and his friends in September 1946 to fight the fascists using the only language they felt fascists understood â violence. The group disrupted fascist meetings for two purposes: to get them shut down by the police for disorder, and to discourage attendance in the future by doling out beatings with fists and blunt instruments. By the summer of 1947, the group had around 500 active members who took part in such activities. Among these was a young hairdresser by the name of Vidal Sassoon, who would often turn up armed with his hairdressing scissors.
The 43 Group had considerable success with these actions, but public anger was spreading faster than they could counter the hate that accompanied it. The deaths of Martin and Paice had touched a nerve with the populace. On Aug. 1, 1947, the beginning of the bank holiday weekend and two days after the deaths of the sergeants, anti-Jewish rioting began in Liverpool. The violence lasted for five days. Across the country, the scene was repeated: London, Manchester, Hull, Brighton and Glasgow all saw widespread violence. Isolated instances were also recorded in Plymouth, Birmingham, Cardiff, Swansea, Newcastle and Davenport. Elsewhere, antisemitic graffiti and threatening phone calls to Jewish places of worship stood in for physical violence. Jewish-owned shops had their windows smashed, Jewish homes were targeted, an attempt was made to burn down Liverpool Crown Street Synagogue while a wooden synagogue in Glasgow was set alight. In a handful of cases, individuals were personally intimidated or assaulted. A Jewish man was threatened with a pistol in Northampton and an empty mine was placed in a Jewish-owned tailor shop in Davenport.
And an important addendum:
I've read a whole bunch of articles about the pogroms in Liverpool, Manchester, Salford, Eccles, Glasgow, etc.
Not one of them has mentioned that the Irgun, though clearly a terrorist group, was formed in response to 18 years of openly antisemitic terrorism, including multiple incredibly violent massacres. Or that it consistently acted in response to the murders of Jewish civilians, not on the offensive. Or that at this point, militant Arab Nationalist groups with volunteers and arms from the Arab League countries had been attacking Jewish and mixed Arab-Jewish neighborhoods for months.
I just think the "Jewish militants had been attacking the British occupiers" angle is incredibly Anglocentric.
Yeah, they were attacking the British occupiers. But also, that's barely the tip of the iceberg.
Everyone involved hated the Brits at this point. If only al-Husseini and his ilk had hated the Brits more than they hated the Jews, Britain could at least have united them by giving them a common enemy.
#jewish history#jumblr#fascism#antisemitism#when anti-zionism IS antisemitism#seriously if you declare that something is never ever antisemitism we know you're writing yourself a blank check to be antisemitic#like. you may not consciously be aware of it#but the more you're emotionally invested in the idea that anything said or done in the name of anti-zionism isn't antisemitic#the more you will ignore or fail to notice or outright defend things that other anti-zionists do that ARE antisemitic#not to mention things that YOU do or say or believe that are antisemitic#especially because most people aren't very aware of the details of different antisemitic tropes#you're not an expert on what is antisemitic and why to begin with and now you're buying into a belief that muffles your perception of it#and gives you motivation to disbelieve and deny it#and there's already psychological motivation to disbelieve and deny it when it's coming from you or your peers or people you admire#and then there's the belief that jews just cry antisemitism to silence valid criticism#aka the exact thing that we always say marginalized groups don't do. and that it's offensive to claim marginalized groups do. that one.#the entire discourse has been set up to protect and propagate antisemitic beliefs from the start#which is not particularly progressive nor is it necessary if you actually want to support palestinians but go off etc#wall of words
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Inspiration - @ghcstao3
There's something to be said about the way John "Soap" MacTavish, notorious for his fleeting fancy of any given subject when off an op, hasn't been able to get Simon Riley out of his head. Granted, even before "The Incident" his lieutenant occupied his thoughts frequently. But now, oh, not a minute goes by where his attention doesn't stray, where his eyes aren't drawn to Ghostâs hulking figure, and he wishes they'd been stationed literally anywhere else but the monotone grey of autumnal England.
His sketchbook is filled with pages upon pages of studies. Greens and browns and gold â the myriad of colours hazel can be â despite how none of them feel right. Too saturated, too dark, too light. Too much or too little. Then again... it is near impossible to recreate a work of art after a mere fleeting second of studying the original. La Gioconda del Prado wasn't made with a peripheral glance at Da Vinci's subject â so how is Johnny to do the impossible?
-
"Spar with me."
Ghost pauses with his fork mid-way to his mouth. A mouth Johnny would gladly analyze at length, or map with his own one day, if not for the unhealthy obsession he's taken with Ghost's eyes.
One thing at a time.
His irises are shadowed by the tilt of his head and the presence of eyeblack but there is a subtle difference between them. Johnny is fool enough to think he can see it no matter how shit the lighting. Deluded, even, if his long-suffering best friend is to be believed. They're also dark with question, narrowed with thoughts and opinions kept close at heart.
"Alright," Ghost says and pushes the rest of his dinner away, pausing briefly as if to say something before ultimately deciding against it.
Johnny follows him with a pronounced bounce in his step and speeds through stretching and warming up. It'll be a killer tomorrow but that's a problem for future Johnny. Sore muscles are a small price to pay if it means settling a mystery.
They take their places, circling each other lazily. Johnny, ever the impatient one, lunges first and ends up with Ghost's heavy weight straddling the small of his back a couple minutes later. He grinds his teeth and heaves himself back to his feet. Sweat beads at his temples, his neck, trickling down his spine. Alight with purpose, he throws himself back in the fray.
He sways out of Ghostâs reach, blocking and evading, bouncing on the tips of his toes, throwing punches when it's fitting while he awaits the perfect time to strike. They're both grinning. It's plain as day on his own face, more subtle on Ghost's. The way the corners of his eyes crease gives him away, the shift of his plain balaclava as his lips twitch.
Johnny is focused on them like a bloodhound on a scent and when Ghost tosses his head, tilting it up with a roll of his shoulders, the florescent lights catching them just so.
Oh, is all he can think with the truth of him laid plain to see â how Johnny had been right all along. They differ subtly in darkness but when cast in either sunshine sepia or lightbulb white the contrast between them is stark. One is the deep, dark of pine, a forest green with too many hues to accurately count. It compliments the wooden brown of tree-trunk bark, flecks of whiskey-gold therein framed by pale lashes of nearly the same colour.
A modern day Medusa who stops him dead in his tracks, mesmerised, as Ghost's fist slams into the side of his face with the concentrated power of an eighteen-wheeler barreling into a concrete wall.
-
Ghost's face swims back into view an undetermined amount of time later. Worry etched into the tense way he carries himself. His hands are cupping Johnnyâs cheeks, thumbs stroking once under his lower lids before they tilt his head back a fraction. He hovers close, peering into Johnnyâs eyes as if they hold the secrets of the universe therein.
"Fuckin' hell Johnny. Anything broken?"
Johnny blinks at him, a dopey smile spreading over his lips like molasses.
Ghost, if anything, looks even more worried.
"Talk to me, Sergeant."
"You've beautiful eyes."
Ghost freezes in place. Gobsmacked, if Johnny were to put an expression to it. He murmurs a string of delightfully innovative curses under his breath, manoeuvring Johnny to sitting upright, and the change in vantage point only makes him a little bit dizzy. The dark spots dancing before his eyes is nothing new, honestly, but they are annoying when they're ruining his view.
"Knocked what little sense you had left right out of your head, huh?" Ghost sounds amused and Soap realises, belatedly, that he might've said all that out loud. "Price'll have a field day with this."
"Take some responsibility an' kiss it better then."
"You're concussed."
"Och aye, an' whose fault is tha'? You and yer bonnie eyes. Could get lost in 'em, y'ken?"
"You're off your head, mate."
"Ahm'nt! An' if you'd jus' stay still for a moment an' lemme look at ye, this wouldn't 'ave been an issue," Johnny grumbles indignantly. Grumbles, because whining is for children and it never works in getting him what he wants anyway. Ghost usually looks at him with the flattest stare imaginable whenever he tries. Horrid man. Johnny kind of wants to kiss him about it.
"Tell you what, Johnny. If you're goodâ" Ghost slings his arm over his shoulder, kindly ignoring the way his words leave him shivering, "âi'll let you look all you want."
Johnny leans against him when he's levered to his feet, swaying like a branch caught in the wind. "I can be good."
"Mmh. You're gonna listen to the nurses once I drop you off at medical?"
Soap groans and smushes his face deeper into Ghostâs surprisingly comfortable shoulder.
"I'll take that as a yes."
-
Ghost keeps his promises, it is an irrefutable fact, and Johnny can and will take advantage of that with shameless abandon.
Crawling into Ghost's lap with a shit-eating grin, paints and brushes well-within reach, wobbling precarious on his perch until Ghost takes pity and steadies him with scorching hands on his hips feels like a victory despite the dull throbbing in his temple and purpling bruises lapping up the side of his face. There are no protests when he guides Ghost's head this-way-and-that. No complaints are heard even when the warm glow of his bedside lamp shines at his eyes and their kaleidoscope of colours become present again. Ghost keeps his gaze unwavering focused when Johnny's hands rest on his face in a mirror of the day prior â though his eyelids droop down the fraction of an inch. It's intense and intimate and Johnny, no stranger to selfishness when he can get away with it, can't help but be greedy.
"Can you be good for me now, Simon?"
His lieutenant nods as far as Johnnyâs hands allow and though him closing his eyes is the opposite of good, Johnny can't fault him when his own slide shut as he brings their faces together for the first time â a new obsession flaring to life in the wake of lips brushing fabric.
#sometimes a prompt comes along that breaks into my house and threatens to burn my house down unless i write it#most all of op:s posts do#i've just gotten exceedingly good at dodging#huge thanks to ghcstao3 for keeping the brain gremlins fed#i am admiring you from afar#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghoap#ghostsoap#soapghost#ghostly writes stuff
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I think it's so funny how Natsu Hyuuga has pressed so many times how "Kusuriya is not a love story. Romance is not the focus. Also fuck Jinshi" then write up the greatest slow burn ever known to man. Not only that, she's literally made Jinshi, the very character she's known to VOCALLY DESPISE, to be one of the most fleshed out characters in the entire 15 volumes of the light novel
#the apothecary diaries#kusuriya no hitorigoto#authors absolutely hating the pretty boy in their stories will never not be funny to me#like queen be so fr ..you like the sparkly boy#the part abt kusuriya not being a love story still holds true (somewhat)#but is just so amusing how capable this woman is in writing romance while also placidly denying it#is very admirable in a sense#how she manages to sprinkle in juuust the right amount of romance each volume#never change (but pls give jinmao a happy ending)
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