#is this ANYTHING??

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Guys I LIED it is so incredibly late right now but I actually needed to write this right now or it was going to kill me!!! anywhosies shitty lil sad stevepop fic under the cut >:D

The seal ain’t been broken yet. Creased ‘n torn lightly at the edges ‘n liftin’ at the corners. But not broken. It’s been sittin’ quietly in Steve’s back pocket, ‘n under his pillow, ‘n the inside of his vest beside his heart for three days. The letterin’ on the front is messy ‘n jagged like the writer was in a hurry. ‘N he was. Steve knew. He never did anythin’ slow or quiet. He was fast. Too fast to hold onto.

It’s a draggin’ day in August. A Thursday that aches deep in Steve’s chest like Darry’s knees when it’s bound to rain. He can feel somethin’ comin’. ‘N he knows he’s not ready for it. But that won’t stop it from comin’ anyway.

He sighs, leans back against the counter of the same gas station he’s been workin’ at since he was fourteen. Some days it's hard to remember it's been nearly a decade. Time slips by. ‘N one day you turn around ‘n you’re not sixteen goin’ on seventeen. ‘N you haven’t been for a long time.

The letter is worn down, grey at the edges where Steve has run his fingers around ‘n around. He slides a nail under the flap ‘n doesn’t make one more move to open it. It’s a familiar routine he’s been steppin’ the footsteps of since Darry had put it in his hands.

There’s a storm blowin’ in. The trees lean dangerously far ‘n the wind hisses ‘n whistles. No one else would bother comin’ in tonight. It would be a lonely closer. ‘N he’d go home to a lonely apartment. It followed him. It was company.

He lifts the letter to his face. ‘N Steve swears he can still smell him on it. Horses ‘n gasoline ‘n somethin’ sickly sweet he never could pin down. He puts his mouth in the place Soda’s had once been ‘n tears the seal with his teeth. 

Hey Stevie,

It takes more effort than it should to not fold the damn thing right back up ‘n put it back in its damn worn-out envelope. But he’s done it now.

I don’t know how to go about startin’ this. Y’know, I feel a bit silly. Pony was always the writer. I’m not sure where I’m meant to start.

Anywhere. Start anywhere. Say anythin’. Say what I need you to.

I guess I better tell you what I’ve been up to. You know, you’re a hard man to get a hold of, Steve. Last two times I called Dar said you weren’t around. D’you remember when we were younger? God we were always But the signals real bad out here anyway. So I figured I’d write you. I hear you got a new apartment. I bet it’s real swell. Shit. It’s gotta be better than what I got out here. 

A train whistle moans ‘n some shiny silver wrapper tumbles across the parkin’ lot ‘n pins itself to the door. Steve can see the skeleton of his beater in the back corner as it shudders against the gail. He still had cigarette ends ‘n soda pop tops from their junior year tucked under the ashtray. A match of Dallas’. A quarter he owed Johnny. 

He thinks of the drive back across town to his apartment. Filled only with ghosts. Real swell.

I don’t got a room out here right now, but that’s just fine. I sleep out with the horses ‘n I’ll tell ya it’s quieter than the house used to be. What with the way Pony used to get up to all kinds a sleep talkin’ ‘n all of us comin’ ‘n goin’ at all hours. I can’t decide if I like it or not. I don’t sleep real well.

God. Ponyboy. He’d be graduatin’ college this year. Out in the fall. It was funny sometimes. He’d come home to visit ‘n they’d be knee to knee on the back porch steps sneakin’ a cig (Darry claimed the only good thing to come out of all the boys clearin’ out was his home didn’t smell like an ashtray anymore. Steve was obliged to let him tell himself whatever he needed). ‘N sometimes, when the sun hit the hollow lines of his face just right he was fourteen again ‘n hatin’ Steve only as much as Steve hated him. But then he’d blink ‘n they were both a long time from the fall of nineteen sixty-five. 

The people out here are real good. Lotta dead heads ‘n hippies. Always goin’ on about the state of the world. I think Dally woulda hated ‘em. Pony probably digs ‘em. But he was always better at gettin’ the shit I didn’t understand. 

The same folks who had bashed in Steve’s head when they were kids ran around high as kites singin’ about peace ‘n fuckin’ love. Steve couldn’t go for the goddamn hippies. But there was no such thing as a greaser anymore. ‘N it was tuff to slum it. God, Pony’d have somethin’ real smart to say about it.

Anyways. We’re out in El Paso right now. I climbed up the roof last night ‘n I swore I could see Juarez from here. The boy who rides the barrel races said that was stupid. Juarez was still miles ‘n miles away. I suppose he’s right, but he ain’t kind.

Darry always said you don’t gotta like who you work with, you just gotta do the job. Though, don’t tell him that. I bet he’d latch right onto it ‘n insist it was reason enough I come right home. Really. Don’t tell him. ‘Cause I really might just listen.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. He can see himself peelin’ down the street chasin’ the storm, takin’ the front steps to the Curtis home in one leap, openin’ the door Darry still leaves unlocked. He can see himself slammin’ the letter down ‘n watchin’ as Darry picks the phone up ‘n calls him home. 

‘N then he opens his eyes ‘n knows he never will. 

But I can’t complain. I’m pretty well fed (better than the horses) ‘n mostly well paid (certainly better than the horses). I ride in a couple hours. I always get nervous beforehand. I wish you were here.

Steve crumples the paper. Grips it tight ‘n flinches at the sound the door makes as it slams open. No one’s there but the wind. ‘N the shadows of two boys peelin’ in from a rodeo. Or horsin’ around after a long day in September. Or sittin’ in the kind of companionable silence you could only get by knowin’ someone better than you knew yourself.  

Once we finish this circuit, I’ll be home—for a while, at least. I miss you, I miss everythin’.  I’m sorry. For all of it.

‘N he knows. He knows he is. ‘N it doesn’t make a goddamn difference. ‘N Steve’s never been religious but if God was real he was a cruel bastard. To make you be able to hate the thing you loved. And for what? Gettin’ the chance you didn’t. ‘N it makes him sick to his stomach. But Steve’s never been good at changin’. 

I’ll see you soon, Stevie. I got so much to tell you. I lo-

Yours, Sodapop :)

Steve tears the letter straight in half. ‘N then he sinks to the floor ‘n sobs like he hasn’t in many years. ‘N probably won’t again.

just got an absolutely despicable idea for a Stevepop fic I need u guys to know I am making this exact face

[nightimedreamersworld]

👑👸👑

[dailytxf]

I want to believe so badly; in a truth beyond our own hidden and obscured from all but the most sensitive eyes, in the endless procession of souls, in what cannot and will not be destroyed.

[gaybd1]

I just had a strong vision of Sokka walking into a room covered in lipstick kiss marks and the gaang raising their eyebrows. Suki comes in after him and they’re all like “ah okay” but then Zuko comes in also wearing very smudged lipstick

[gayboydetectivez]

Fic idea:

"I'll just flirt with charles and you copy whatever works" crystal shrugged.

"I'm not certain..." Edwin said nervously

"If he likes it when I do it and we're not even into each other, then his reaction to you doing it will be proof if he likes you or not." She explained her logic.

Edwin had to admit he could follow the train of thought. But Charles was attracted to women, had once been attracted to crystal, though he had decided he saw her more as a friend than a potential romantic companion after their uncomfortable failed kissing session. 'It just didn't feel right' he had explained when Edwin pressed for more information. He would still catch him looking flustered, though, when crystal whispered in his ear or that time she had gotten caught in an unexpected spring downpour in an unfortunately thin tshirt, requiring edwin to loan her his coat while charles struggled not to openly gawk. There was a very slim chance that Edwin repeating the flirtatious actions of some human girl would end in anything but his own humiliation and an even slimmer chance that charles would be interested.

"I don't think-" he started.

"We can get niko's help so you dont embarass yourself." She added.

Edwin folded his arms, one eyebrow raised at the psychic before sighing in resignation. "Fine." He said haughtily.

[halfbakedideas]

14 looses their voice after a tardis trip involving a train ride through alien mountains and a lot of shouting, and Has A Time.

everything on the planet midnight happened hundreds of years ago for them, so why are those memories still affecting them??

they know that in a few days their voice will be back fully and they’ll be fine. that there’s nothing wrong with them. it's just the effects of overtaxing their voice like they did. they know that.

but with panic clouding their mind? it’s so hard for the doctor to remember that they’re on earth, that they’re in control of their body. they are. that their voice is theirs, just have to wait for it to return, and it will return because this is just what happens when you spend hours shouting so much. they can move whenever they want, get up and go downstairs and out to the tardis right now if they wanted too. that the doctor isn’t on midnight, hasn’t been for years.

and then the terror sets in and then they can’t move they can’t move they can’t move.

[vendimeyers]

Hoid waking up on Scadriel

Your home bed was missing or obstructed

[spurbleu]

something something roommates Ghost and Soap hacking your Netflix account and placing shows and movies on your recommendation lists.

and it is a meticulous effort. blood yarn tight against tack board, and under thick strands are half developed poloriads. not like they haven’t thought about it- you- before- heavy hand, soot covered cocks as they spell illwill with their spend.

but it works like a charm. applesauced legs bolstered by spring-thin cushions, roll of your spine just slightly forward as you curl into a flash of fiction and some dumb sci-fi shit neither Soap or Ghost actually cared about. they knew enough to fake it though.

and oh how they did. fumble of the doorknob at a forsaken hour introduced you to redeyes and slouched shoulders. and when you saw Soap offer an easy grin to the screen, you were none the wiser to question them. pulling plot points, characters from the sore of their asses after a heavy, hot, weary deployment back home? least you could do it’s offer them a seat.

of’course wi’ll join ye, bonnie.

now play nice. know it’s not easy when they sandwich you inbetween their fat thighs, arms finding purchance on the ribs of the couch, fetor masculinity kissing the sides of your cheeks.

don’t complain when they shift at the familiar ripe blush of sex as it pulls from the corners of the television. when their hands wander from the back of the couch to your hair, neck, shoulders, thighs…

you really don’t remember there being a romantic subplot. so why is the room suddenly so warm, and why are your legs spreading?

[paaansy]

mcr roulette where u shuffle their entire discography but if desert song comes on you kill yourself

[ken-dom]

∘₊✧ Driver (Drive, 2011) + text posts

[puppywagzz]

getting close to someone and opening up about my disabilities. only for them to take me home and press every button in the elevator of their apartment complex in hopes that i'll put up less of a fight. going up and down and up again until im woozy and leaning against them. listening to their voice fade in and out as i struggle with staying conscious in their arms

"just relax pup, we're almost there"

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Hey I'm gonna say something. Steve's not like great with words or nothing. But every so often he scares himself by putting together the most beautiful set of words he feels like he's gotta go sit in a dark room for a minute.

One day Soda's joking around 'n he's like 'c'mon Steve, admit it. you only like me for my charming good looks.'

n Steve opens his mouth n is like 'no it ain't that. sure, you're hot. but... like a sunset at the gas station. ppl look at the sky n they miss that part of the beauty is that it's in a place that most ppl walk right on through. no one thinks a gas stations a tuff place to hang out until the suns making it look all gold.'

n there's like a half second of silence n Soda goes 'u do'

n Steve's like 'I'm gonna go sit in the laundry room for a minute' n they can all hear him muttering about how ponys poetic bullshit is rubbing off on him

[undercover-horn-blog]

Common cold symptom we totally neglect in sickfic: Clogged ears that make it difficult to hear what people are saying.

Sometimes blowing your nose makes it better, at least temporarily, because they pop. Sometimes it makes it so much worse and you have to ask people to repeat themselves because you can't hear shit.

[koscheyyy]

Kayne: hey you guys want anything?

Yorick: the souls of the innocent!

Arthur: a bagel

Yorick: nooooo!

John: two bagels

[trashcanonfire]

i think G13 should've kissed Doug Meat with tongue to pass the McGuffins to make up for not hugging him imediatly