Hi there, I know you're super busy and I hope things are going well for you in school!! I saw your hcs post and it gave me an idea for a blurb. Could we see Jonathan and his crush on bug when they were younger. Like him just absorbed and enchanted with bug while she's just running around completely unaware. Maybe like they're exploring in the woods and Jonathan gets nervous so bug grabs his hand and he gets so flustered. Thank you for your time baby!! Work hard and do great!
YES YES YES !!!!!
enjoy <3
"race you to the top!" you exclaim, giggling as you shove past jonathan and force your scrawny twelve year old legs to climb up weathertop hill. he tumbles to the ground.
its your first summer in hawkins, and jonathan has promised to show you every inch of this small town.
"not fair!" he shouts back, now yards behind you after youve rudely shoved him to get ahead.
jonathan watches as you turn back and giggle even harder at the sight of him on the ground. your laugh carries down to him and the sunlight illuminates your face. your smile is infectious and despite the mud now underneath his fingernails because of you, jonathan cant help but smile back at you.
you run through some dandelions and send them cascading around you as you continue to run up the grassy field, and as the soft dandelion seeds swirl around you, jonathan cant seem to catch his breath.
your hair is in pigtails and when you turn back to jonathan again to laugh at him once more, the sunlight catches your eyes and he decides that there isnt a color descriptive enough to capture their beauty.
"i won!" you dance at the top of the hill, having won the race by a mile, and stick your tongue out at jonathan. "you suck, bee."
jonathan rests his head in grass and admires you. youre glowing, your hair dances with you, and he doesnt think hes ever seen this side of you in the few months hes known you.
here, all alone together, far from the bullies at school and the yelling in your houses, the two of you can just be kids.
youre beautiful. theres a warmth to you that jonathan cant describe.
hes twelve years old, and he understands now why his parents drive each other crazy.
here you are, smiling at jonathan as if hes the best thing in the entire world, offering him your hand to help him up from the grass. your fingers are soft and slowly starting to become familiar to him, and jonathan finds himself shaking at your touch.
"hey, you okay?" you notice his sudden shift in mood.
its slight, all jonathan had done was shuffle his feet a bit away from you, and yet you had noticed. he doesnt think he will ever get used to you knowing him so well, in such a short time span, and when he tries to tell you that its nothing, the words die in his throat when he looks at you.
theres a stray dandelion in one of your pigtails.
it rests gently against your cheek, you havent noticed it yet, and jonathan slowly reaches out to pluck it out of your hair. his fingers shake and his hands feel clammy and he wonders how theres so many songs written about this scary feeling.
"here," he offers the dandelion to you. its all he knows how to do. its all he can give you.
blushing, you accept the flower and hold it delicately in your hand. "thanks, bee."
"anytime, bug."
its the smile that you offer him, shy and sweet yet reserved and vulnerable, that makes him realize that his crush on you is more than just a crush.
jonathan byers is twelve years old when he discovers love for the first time in a grassy field filled with dandelions and laughter from his childhood.
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yesterday my flatmate asked what my "olympics schedule" was in terms of what i was planning to watch and when and i was like i can't explain to you how much of a foreign concept that is to me. you don't have an "olympics schedule" in my household you watch whatever happens to be on tv whenever you have a minute of free time and get insanely invested in whatever sport you end up watching. maybe down the line you get so caught up in an event that you start going "i'm sorry i need to have the tv at 8:45pm next tuesday because i need to see the men's sport climbing finals or i'll kill myself" but it's something that has to happen organically you know. that's half the fun
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I don't know who needs to hear this, but as a creator -
I am fine with "the audience" -
downloading my fics
printing my fics
copy/pasting or screenshotting my fics
sharing your saved copy of my fics with anyone else who might want them in the unlikely but never impossible case that my fics are no longer available on ao3
making a book of my fic(s) and running your fingers across the pages while lovingly whispering my precioussss
doing these things with anything I create for fandom, such as meta, headcanons, au nonsense like 'texts from the brodinsons,' etc
I am not fine with "the audience"
doing any of the above with the purpose/intent of plagiarizing my work or passing it off as their own in any capacity
feeding my work into ai for any reason whatsoever
Save the fandom things. Preserve the fandom things. Respect the fandom things.
Enjoy the fandom things.
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clean your sword
i. Peter had thought many times about dying for his brother, killing for his sisters, as all oldest children do.
ii. He'd imagined it a hundred times: how if his mother and father were ever killed, he'd get some low-skill job and make sure Lucy's clothes still fit her as she grew. How he'd make fists and fight dirty if Susan was ever threatened. What he'd do if Edmund ever had to flee the country on a dark, windswept night.
iii. Yet when he heard Susan's horn that day, he still froze. Only for an instant, he thought, "this can't be my job, right?"
iv. The blood on his sword shone red when it was all over. When he wiped it on the grass, the stain it left was almost black.
v. They'd put Susan in his arms when he was two years old. Peter didn't remember it, but he knew he'd been waiting for her till then. He wasn't a real person until he was a brother.
vi. And when they walked back to the pavilion, Rhindon bumping Peter's hip, all he could say to his sisters was, "I'm sorry I didn't come faster."
vii. The High King was almost obsessive in the way he cared for Rhindon. When he grew older and required weapons larger than those made for a child, he obsessed over them too.
viii. He told the others, in no uncertain terms, that if it ever came to it in battle, they were to leave him and live. As their brother and high king, he commanded it.
ix. The first time Edmund risked himself for Peter's sake, Peter didn't speak to him for a week.
x. He was oiling his sword when Edmund found him. "See, the thing is, Peter, being brothers goes both ways. If you can love me enough to die for me, than I get to love you just the same."
xi. Peter agreed with him then, to avoid the argument. He was sick of not talking to his brother. Yet privately, he knew that Edmund was wrong. That sacrifice was Peter's special prerogative, as the first-born.
xii. Back in England, his mother noticed that Peter had become more fastidious. She didn't notice that his protective streak has grown - and maybe it hadn't, really.
xiii. It was uncanny, how Peter would always show up just when his siblings needed him. He'd round a corner, and there was Lucy stamping her feet and scowling at a bully. There was Susan, crying, and now his knuckles were bloody.
xiv. He cleaned the blood off in the sink so carefully. The water ran red for a second, and it almost seemed black.
xv. When Caspian asked for the High King's advice, looking so very young, Peter jerked his chin towards the sword a Caspian's hip. "Be ready to use that," he said. "Keep it clean, and close."
xvi. Susan forgot Narnia and she forgot Aslan. Yet selfishly, Peter still hoped that she would never forget how quickly he came when she called.
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