#it's temporary i swear

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Ten First Lines

The infuriatingly talented @jamiesfootball tagged me to share the first ten lines of stories and since I already did published ones I'm sharing the first (or currently first since some of these are veryyyyy early stages) lines of my WIPs.

When Jamie woke from nightmares, he often felt like there was someone else in his room with him. - untitled home invasion fic.

"Can you remember what happened to you?” he asked, voice quiet with concern. - thought i wanted love ('til you showed me what it was)

Pulisic took his stance by the corner flag as Greyhounds and Rossoneri alike jockeyed for position in front of Zoreaux. - untitled Jamie hides an injury during a match because they're out of substitutions fic.

Jamie hated hospitals.  - from the untitled (only because i've given it at least three titles) jamie loses confidence fic.

Georgia Burns was fifteen when she met James Tartt for the first time; she didn’t know it would change the trajectory of her life. - that star in the sky who watches over you

No one tells you how devastating it is to lose your father while he’s still alive. - you inherit the sins, you inherit the flames

“I will cut your eyes out.” - untitled Jamie and Roy's sister have the same name fic.

“You once said I was a great man, do you still think that’s true?” - Dear Leslie

Jamie wasn’t fine.  - chapter 2 of the season 1 set sequel for the loudest silence (the loudest silence being the first chapter)

cw for death (it will be temporary in the fic though, don't you worry)

10. He’d killed Jamie Tartt. - all that you take with you is that which you've given away

Tagging @fanficfanattic @jamiepoptartt & @broadwayfreak5357 @orbitalpirate (and anyone who wants to share imagine your name here) if they want to play (either with published works, wips or a combo platter) but no pressure!

[hoforwonho]

HOFORWONHO > MOVIESTARMIJOO

[crow-person]

she is exploding them with her mind

[oversizedhoodielovingboi]

[multipearionare]

I think Mastermind Taka and Mastermind Daiya would like eachother and protect Mondo at ALL cost, together.

just two normal people who are normal about their favorite person, which is a normal thing to do

[hitlikehammers]

Steve Harrington: The Boy Who Never Belonged Anywhere

🖤steddie🖤 — and yeah okay it does kinda start out w a little emotional whump (also please let me emphasize the TEMPORARY character death that MIGHT NOT EVEN BE REAL IN THE FIRST PLACE 👀)

To say Steve’s never felt like he belonged, like he ever really fit anywhere, would be inaccurate.

Because he’d have to know what it meant to fit somewhere at all, in order to know that he was failing at it, like, specifically.

Failure in general, though: that Steve is more than accustomed to. That is all his in fucking spades—and not for lack of trying for better. He watches the other kids at the piano recitals; he cannot perform sufficiently to escape his mother’s exasperation. He listens to his classmates, the ones from families his parents approve of, tries to learn their phrasings, their flippance, their disdain for things Steve doesn’t understand as deserving of the hate his parents show: still his father rages, still Steve weathers his disappointment as a rule. So he does try: less to fit, maybe, and more to blend. To be inoffensive. To maybe just…be forgotten. To fade into the backdrop.

Everything in his life, really, he does to this end: match them. Be like them. Be good but not too good. Don’t draw attention. Fit in, finally, if you’re lucky—someday.

Don’t aim to belong, lest you set yourself up for disappointment.

He knows enough of disappointment; he’s not interested in making any more.

So Steve swims where he stays in a lane, and he dribbles a ball in the confines of a court. Shoots it even, though he’s not always sure why it matters, but he chalks it up to the truth of ‘most things’: he doesn’t understand it because he doesn’t quite fit, and that’s probably explanation enough.

He sits at the table at lunch with the people from the families with names his parents don’t frown at. He makes his hair look like the actors in the magazines, the ones that enough people seem to like to merit a place on the cover, to earn the right to make money for a company because money is important—another thing Steve doesn’t wholly comprehend, but his father screams less when there is more money and screams a lot more when even a little bit of it is lost so Steve adds it to the list of things he’ll never understand because he doesn’t fit.

He dates, because that’s what everyone else does. It isn’t unpleasant. It’s more just a thing. He dates Nancy Wheeler because his father mentioned once that a prize hard won was a prize tripled in worth and Steve wants to do things that are worth something. Steve thinks maybe enough worth will mould him into the right shape. To fit.

He’s wrong, in the end.

But it ends up with him being confused instead, in gradual steps in the middle: he ends up being confused by wanting to protect.

He’s never really felt that urge before but it feels natural, and it feels stronger than other feelings do; than other ones have. Stronger than winning. Stronger than dating. Stronger than pleasure. Stronger than wanting.

He wonders—only briefly, but he does wonder—if this is what they mean when they talk about ‘fit’. If this is just another word for ‘belonging’. Like a…a cinnamonym. Or whatever it’s called.

It isn’t, he does ultimately realize, but it fills something in him anyway. It doesn’t make him fit everywhere, but it moulds him like Play-Doh, or silly putty, to fit…here. Maybe not perfectly. Maybe not as he’d dreamed or hoped. Maybe not like he imagined from all the stories and movies and shit. But.

It’s a kind of fit. Protecting is a type of belonging, he thinks. Yeah

It’s good. It’s a good thing.

But it really does cement the simple fact that everything in Steve’s life—whether it landed him closer or farther away from the idea of belonging in any of it, of being able maybe to live itself at all: but everything he chooses, everything he tries, everything he does and makes of himself, brings into being as proof that he’s here?

Is only ever for anything and anyone but himself.

He considers the kids as anomalies, as proof against the rule: they provide no social clout—in reality they damage his standing with the people his parents deem worth courting for opinion. They fill up Steve’s chest, though, but: it’s protection, first and foremost. The belonging of keeping safe.

Then there’s Robin, and she’s the closest he’s even known to something that could be other, something that could be new. Sometimes it feels like her cells are made of the same ill-fitting star-stuff that Steve’s cursed with but no part of Robin is a curse, Robin Buckley is only a gift and that makes it confusing, so confusing—

He still needs to protect her, above nearly all things, but the way she doesn’t merely fill his chest but comes to live inside it? That is new. And maybe Steve still doesn’t fit, or belong, but: Robin fits under his ribs, and he belongs inside hers just the same and…that might not be what anyone wanted from him. But it’s something.

And yeah, maybe circumstance chooses it for him first, but: he holds on of his own volition. It’s his own whole-ass choice to never ever let her go.

So it’s something.

Though: after—not long, but still after, long enough after that Steve knows a little what he’s looking for, the full-feeling that makes his ribs like a breastplate, that…that he protects with all that he is but maybe for the first time, also protects him. Make an armor of his chest and holds him close, makes him laugh and feel light, and see colors he didn’t know existed; makes him feel weightless like the ground’s no longer beneath his feet.

It’s this…undeniable taste of what it means to belong, and he knows that for reasons he cannot point toward or give a name to. But he knows. This is belonging.

Belonging, inside the one and only thing in Steve’s whole life that he has ever chosen for himself: the beautiful man with eyes beyond nighttime, elusive and enchanting, selling him something that might take the edge off, the sting of still failing to fit.

When he finds, over days, and then weeks, is that fit is exactly the word for how he falls into Eddie Muson’s arms, how his dick disappears between Eddie Munson’s lips, how Eddie’s slicked-up cock slides between the cleft of Steve’s ass—close, close but not yet, baby, not yet, let’s savor the journey there; this.

This is what it means to belong, with absolutely no reasons pushing him toward it, toward them; in fact maybe more reasons pull him back, even, because Eddie Munson is the opposite of the family names his parents approve of, Eddie Munson is the opposite of maybe anything that anyoneapproves of, at least among the people who care about approving at all and that’s…that’s maybe the most amazing thing Steve’s ever learned and found, this freedom, this beauty, this man and the soul of him like champagne if it were soda pop, common maybe but only on the surface, hidden from view and so so sweet, so so rich in ways that really matter but bubbling always, a constant carbonated effervescence in Steve’s heart and his lungs and his bones and his veins, it is something—

It’s one of the best and most incredible somethings Steve could possibly imagine.

And Steve chose it all for himself. Steve clings to it, savors it just like he’s asked—loves inside it, all for himself.

He thinks he wants to offer his heart to Eddie. He’s already lost it, he’s pretty sure of that, but…he thinks there’s something in giving it, in finding a tiny break in the fullness of his ribs to reach inside and cradle it like an offering.

And then the universe, or whatever makes certain that his world, his life, is shaped not-to-fit as a rule: it reminds him.

Because Eddie sees a cheerleader snapped in half. And Eddie’s on the run, but not into Steve’s arms. And Eddie’s separated from him, for no good fucking reason when his soul’s hurting, aching for in; when his heart’s ready to be offered, Steve found the crack, he’s reached in and he’s reaching out with it cupped in his hands, just, just please—

And then Eddie’s gone. Eddie’s dead. And nothing belongs. Nothing fits. Moving’s not made for here. Breathing’s anathema.

Steve’s heart falls to the ground, untended. Insignificant.

And when it’s all said and done, Steve looks at the sky, knows that’s not where the cause of any of this lies if there’s a cause to it at all, but he blinks, and he cannot cry because he’s drowning in the tears on the inside but they don’t fit here either, so all he can do at all is blink and he lets go: of the wanting. Of the trying. Of the pushing to be anything but what he is, and was always meant to be. Will never be anything other than.

I get it. I see it. This world is not for me. I will never find my place. I tried, I asked for more and I lost. I understand.

I won’t make the same mistake again.

Secretly, though, where he drowns in his tears inside the breastplate of ribs still so full even if the protection’s turned rusted, leant into decay: secretly—

He cannot let go of Eddie Munson. He may be lost, and he may be as much the provenance of soil and dust, of the creatures there begging to consume without any care or concept of all that he meant; all that he means: Eddie may be no more than bound to the same fate as the heart Steve dropped to that same dirt, let it get ground into the earth to decay with his beloved, to be there with him always the only way that’s left, but—

Steve does not fit, will never belong, yet despite everything: he cannot let go of Eddie Munson.

He can’t yet comprehend that might be for a reason, let alone a reason that might just fit.

...part 2? 🧚‍♂️

For @vthx, who requested a fusion of 'Character-Has-Powers / Changelings' and A Dustland Fairytale—The Killers at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nerdyglassescheeseychick @swimmingbirdrunningrock @goodolefashionedloverboi @sanctumdemunson @theheadlessphilosopher

divider credits here

💫 ao3 link here

[24601orwhatever]

NICK REHBERGER & STEVE CZARNECKI AS JAVERT

two of my favorite american javerts side by side :) 📷: @medium-observation

[carebearcody]

i don’t CARE how far england go. i’m still southgate out

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Tumblr's stupid queue doesn't work.

Ok y'all it has just come to my attention that tumblr doesn't let you have more than 1 000 posts in the queue (mean), and I gotta clear out my queue so that I can move the 1 000 posts in my drafts into the queue. This would mean that for the next couple of weeks I might have to increase the post frequency from the queue. By a lot. I'm indecisive though, so I'm putting the burden of making a decision on how many times I should post on my own blog onto anyone who sees this post. Right now I post 12 times a day from my queue.

[starrz-ombie]

the (name).txt tag thing is SO CUTE but now i can’t do it cos i decided all my tags (besides fandom ones obviously) end with -z …this is so sad

[uncanny-tranny]

"A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips" being said like that's a bad thing. How beautiful is it that the memories and experiences my body has gone through will be etched into me, even if temporary, even if it isn't "flattering"? Why would I want to be alive if it meant that I am not permitted to live? And why should I avoid myself like I am a sin, like I am a curse, worse than death and pain?

I will envelop myself in layers of care and love, even if it means that I am slightly different. I will continue to do so even if I am alone. I have survived long enough. I will rest now, I will find peace.

[shehungthemoon]

hello merwaine queens anybody willing to quickly beta a short >2k merwaine fic? just need a glance for flow/readability. pleasey pleasey!!! hugs 💗

[sleepyhead-whump]

I didn’t intend for my first piece of writing to be for an AU but this angel AU from discord has consumed my brain, so here’s the first part of Freedom and Oath’s fall!

For the people who aren’t familiar with this au since I haven’t talked about it on this blog, Castor is Freedom in this AU and Sirius is Oath!

The Fall: Part 1

Part Two

CW: Temporary character death, one that has resurrected and one who hasn’t yet

What’s going on? What is this place?

That was the first thought that crossed Freedom’s mind as he took in the unfamiliar, dilapidated little house he found himself in. It looked like nobody had lived here in years, if not decades, judging by the dust coating every surface in sight. Sunshine streamed through the cracked window on the far wall, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut again as the bright light caused his head to throb.

How did I get here?

That was the next thing on his mind as he wracked his brain for any memory of the preceding events. It took a moment for his dazed mind to focus long enough to remember, but when he finally did the memories hit like a charging bull.

The argument back in Above- the sudden sensation of falling, of voices yelling all different things, of Defiance’s hand just brushing his as they futilely reached for each other, then of Oath diving after him and clinging to him- then burning, the most horrific pain he’d ever experienced in his centuries of life. He could smell burnt hair and feathers and flesh, it had felt like it would go on forever, he could barely even register Oath’s desperate embrace as they clung to each other, until it just… stopped, and everything went dark.

Freedom didn’t know how long it took for him to regain his senses, but when he did, he found himself hyperventilating and shaking uncontrollably.

Did he die? Was that what happened? And what happened to Oath?

He looked frantically around the cabin, attempting to stand up from the bed he found himself in when he finally noticed someone clutching his hand.

“Oath…?”

The other angel seemed to still be unconscious, but despite that he never lost his iron grip on Freedom’s hand. Upon closer inspection, however, he had vines creeping up his legs where he’d been kneeling at Freedom’s bedside, as if he hadn’t moved from the spot in a very, very long time- and he wasn’t breathing.

[razzmothazz]

creepy green fucker

[natasha-in-space]

Man, seeing those videos like 'the day in a life of a nearsighted person!' really gives me a reality check that I am, in fact, not normal. Like, no, I don't go around streets without my glasses because I don't like wearing them. I will literally fall down the stairs or get hit by a car without them. Because I cannot see anything but very blury outlines. No, I cannot squint and see if this is the right bus for me to jump on. I will only see something clearly if it is centimeters away from my face. No, I cannot have a collection of different frames to style my looks. Because my lenses are so specialized that they often require me to save up money for an entire year to afford a new frame of glasses that is not the ugliest thing you have ever seen. And even then, I can only get very limited variety because of my lenses. And no, I cannot just go and buy whatever eye contacts they sell in the optical store either. Not only because my eyes are too sensitive for them, but also because they will not work on me. I have to order specialized contacts that cost a fortune, considering all the appointments and shipping costs. So glasses are way more affordable, and I am likely stuck with them for my entire life, even if I do get surgery one day. Because fixing my eyesight completely is either impossible, or will take me multiple operations on both of my eyes.

Also. I literally cannot function without my glasses. It is not just something for me to put on whenever I feel like it. I will be literally unable to survive in our society without them. Like at all. Be it by breaking my leg by falling over, or being unable to do ANY sort of work. I was born like this, so this is literally the only life I know, but when I see stuff like that from people who are seemingly the same as me, it's weird as fuck. Because no, we are not the same. And, in fact, my life is very different from someone just wearing glasses. And that's kinda wild for me to think about.

[guppygiggles]

Lers who are cool and collected while absolutely destroying a lee, like what? hmm? can't understand you, sorry, can you be more clear?

Lees who tease lers with how ticklish they are and how much they enjoy it, like you don't even have to tie me up; here, I'll even lift my shirt up for you. What's wrong? Don't get shy on me, now, I thought you were soooo excited to tickle me...

SHY LERS

TEASY LEES

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