Amongst the many things Louis hated at the moment, there was one thing that somehow still brought a little bit of hope into his days. Even if it was to come back home just to see Harry’s face, Harry’s bright green eyes, that alone made everything better somehow.
That night, seeing Harry smiling at him, it made his life a hundred times better than it had been for all those months he had already been there.
“What the fuck are you doing, Tomlinson?” Louis spoke to himself, closing his eyes at the sensation of the cold breeze. “You can’t let yourself fall for him, you just can’t. You don’t even know him. You aren’t even friends with him, fuck,” he shook his head, now looking up at the sky, trying to make out the moon amid the heavy clouds. “You can’t, otherwise you’ll never leave this place.”
Fandom: Supergirl Rating: T Summary: In which smol Alex is basically Kari from The Incredibles. And special guest appearance by the Super Friends via framing device! A/N: Idea came from this post.
Spring Cleaning has become a group affair is entirely to blame on
Kara’s insistence that the Super Friends haven’t been spending nearly
enough time together. Winn and James agree,
of course, but they’d honestly prefer something like…mini-golf, or
maybe trying out the new Italian place down on Third.
Eravamo strane noi due. Avevamo una relazione che non era nemmeno una vera e propria relazione, avevamo un rapporto che non poteva essere descritto come “storia d'amore”, “infatuazione”, “piacersi a vicenda”, no. L'unica parola che poteva descrivere il nostro rapporto era “strano”. Strano perchè ci siamo amate tanto, forse troppo in fretta. Strano perchè, per la paura di dirsi “ti amo”, ci ripetevamo sempre “ti voglio”, che per noi aveva lo stesso valore del “ti amo”. Strano perchè, nonostante io avessi mandato tutto a puttane, per me c'era sempre un posto nella tua vita. Strano perchè eravamo troppo orgogliose per chiederci scusa quando discutevamo. Strano perchè avevi deciso di non scrivermi più, ma non di smettere di pensarmi. Strano perchè quando ti contattavo, tutto sembrava svanito, esistevamo solo noi due ed era un bel rapporto. Strano perchè abbiamo due caratteri difficili, a tratti molto simili, a tratti troppo diversi tra loro. Strano perchè io mettevo da parte l'orgoglio, che metto al primo posto nel mio carattere, pur di parlarti. Strano perchè, quando non ci parlavamo perchè avevamo discusso e nessuna delle due aveva la forza di chiedersi scusa, ti dicevo “mi manchi” e tu mi dicevi che avresti voluto scrivermelo nello stesso momento, ma che il tuo orgoglio lo impediva, e che ti mancavo anche io, tanto. Strano perchè, a volte, quelle rare volte, eravamo dolci come due innamorati. Strano perchè altre volte ci odiavamo. Tutto questo “strano” era bello, tutto questo “strano” eravamo noi e mi piaceva.
i have recently finished the latest season of Stranger Things and come up with an AU with the help of @rhi-draws-things. i’m wondering right now if you guys want me to keep going at my other halloween AU “The Strange Happenings of Lakefield”, or switch over briefly to this new ST AU i’ve cooked up; thus delaying Lakefield for a little while.
it’s really up to you guys what you want to see this halloween.
luke/bodhi -- order 66/darth vader never happened AU
Jedi aren’t an unusual sight on Jedha by any means, but something draws Bodhi to the stranger anyway.
Maybe it’s because he doesn’t look like any Jedi he’s ever seen before. No mysterious robes or half-smiles, no creepy gravitas (Bodhi is easily creeped out). He’s playing tag with a bunch of far younger kids and cheating outrageously - jumping too high over outstretched arms, flipping out of the way, pulling them back with an invisible force.
The Force, Bodhi supposes. He’s never been all that religious, but Jedha’s weak sun threads light through this stranger’s sandy hair, catches on the corner of an open-mouthed grin, and he starts to reconsider. His eyes are bright blue, and seem to slice through Bodhi when he straightens.
“Sorry!” Despite the laughter caught in his voice, the stranger seems sincere. He’s younger than Bodhi, although not by much. “Did you need to get through here? Didn’t mean to get in your way.”
“Ignore Bodhi!” One of the snotty little kids wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve. “He’s just a regular old stick in the mud.”
“Just because I won’t let you fly a shuttle of very important cargo doesn’t make me a stick in the mud, Lirik,” Bodhi snaps back. The kid sticks her tongue out, and he feels his chances of making a good impression very quickly swirling down the drain.
“You’re a pilot?” The stranger tilts his head curiously, and Bodhi has to cough to cover the way his breath hitches. Get it together, man.
“Only cargo. Jedha - uh, the moon’s not really set up well, agriculturally speaking. Good for growing crystal, not much else. I take the kyber out, bring produce in. Nothing fancy.”
“I dunno, making sure people can eat sounds pretty important to me. More than what I do, anyway.”
He stares. The stranger blinks back, apparently not understanding how absurd what he just said is, so Bodhi decides to enlighten him.
“You’re a Jedi.”
“Wh - oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. The brightness dims a bit, but it doesn’t help Bodhi feel less star struck. “Nah, not really. It’s complicated. But I’m just Luke.”
And Jedha might be a frozen rock orbiting an insignificant Mid-Rim planet, but it’s a very religious frozen rock. Guardians and Jedi don’t always see eye to eye when it comes to worship, but any Force-related news tends to be a big deal in NiJedha.
So Bodhi knows the name Luke, knows how that name intersects with the drama of one of the Order’s most powerful Jedi breaking away to start a family with a prominent politician. That’s the sort of thing that rocks a galaxy, especially when the kids of that family had turned out to be Force-sensitive, and not turned over to the Order.
Bodhi swipes a hand over his forehead, trying to figure out the right thing to say. “Uh,” he tries, before thrusting his hand out. “I’m just Bodhi.”
The kid who had heckled him before makes a retching sound and gathers her gaggle of friends off to find ‘something more interesting than two adults making goo goo eyes at each other’. Bodhi chokes, tucking his hand back, but the stranger - Luke - is already reaching out to grab it.
“Nice to meet you, Bodhi.”
His palms are calloused. That’s surprising, for some reason.
Luke came to Jedha alone. He doesn’t say the words ‘trying to find myself’, but Bodhi can feel it in the heated slide of lips against his, the too-eager click of teeth.
He hadn’t invited the guy to his shuttle for this express purpose, but the door had hissed shut behind them, artificial warmth chasing the dusty chill out of his bones and Luke giving him a questioning look of such want that Bodhi can only nod in response.
It doesn’t make sense, he thinks dizzily, dragging trembling fingers through that sandy hair. He doesn’t do this, and Luke certainly has no reason to do this with him, but then teeth are scraping over his throat and his thoughts scatter in a thousand different directions.
“You believed me,” Luke answers the unspoken question, hot air puffing over wet skin.
“Are you - are you reading my mind right now?”
A laugh. “No, I just–” His hands wander around the hem of Bodhi’s shirt, nervously tweaking the material. “Had a hunch?”
One of Bodhi’s hands slips out of his hair. Cups his jaw, slides a thumb over the jut of his cheekbone. “Why don’t people believe you?”
They could be kissing right now, but there’s an unbearable sort of curiosity nibbling at the corner of his mind. He’s tucked between the wall of his shuttle and the hard press of Luke’s body and while that’s certainly its own distraction, he can’t help but indulge in running his mouth. Luke doesn’t seem to mind, flashing a quick smile.
“It never seems to be enough,” he says. “Just being Luke.”
That doesn’t make any sense, because Bodhi can’t imagine anyone looking at this man and thinking not enough, but that seems a little intimate to tell someone you only met an hour ago.
So he kisses him again instead, soft and slow and sweet.
Dear old friend,
Correction: You were everything but a friend.
You were more, You are less.
We haven’t spoken in a while.
We left everything and moved on, and I don’t know why.
Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if you were ever in it again.
I don’t particularly miss you, or want you back.
I just wonder.
I sometimes question what things might have been like if I knew why we threw it all away. But just as they say, sometimes things are meant to be let go.
So I understand.
I don’t blame you.
I never did.
But I want to know one thing : Do you wonder about how life would have been if you stayed?
Idk about the other characters getting canon acknowledgement, but i actually feel like Billy is very, very strongly implied to be a closeted gay man and i think we might see more of that in S3.
hm… well, anon, i love you and i respect your opinions, but since i (personally) don’t like billy at all as a character and have… a Lot of Opinions on queer representation in media (and i could go on and on about the history of said representation, especially when related to villainy) and on the difference between explanation and excuse, i’m gonna conclude with this and this alone:
Note: I’m glad to finally post this. It’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks now. Sorry, anon! I hope you have a better birthday next year :)
Happy birthday!“ Nayoung flopped herself on top of your sleeping body, all her weight pushing you down on the mattress. You groaned at the annoying enthusiasm early in the morning. Your roommate’s job as an office lady requires her to get up at four in the morning, so this is her only chance to greet you. She blew in your ear, and you squirmed beneath her in irritation.
"Okay, thanks,” you muttered groggily, pushing her off. “Get off of me.”
She huffed, “Grumpy ass.” Nayoung crossed her arms on her chest as she pouted at you.
Sitting up, you rolled your eyes at her, “Aren’t you going to be late?”
Her eyes widened in realization. “Oh, shoot!” She exclaimed, looking at her tiny wrist watch. Nayoung stood up, dusted her clothes as if brushing off the wrinkles, and rushed to the door. She was out of sight for a moment until her head sticks out of the door jamb. “I’ll bring cake later, and we’ll eat it for breakfast tomorrow!” With that, she took off.
Your head lazily met the pillow again once you heard your roommate lock the front door. It’s your birthday, but damn it feels like any ordinary day.
And that what makes it sad. It’s supposed to be a special day, but it’s not anymore.
B is making me watch Stranger Things and since she’s been asleep for two and a half hours because daylight savings time and time zones and the equator, I’m actually able to watch it instead of pestering her, and I honestly don’t know why people are sexualizing these literal ass children, like… what is wrong with the world?
As Muslims living in the West we really embody Islam for those we encounter. Chances are, we are one of (if not the!) only Muslims that the people in our lives will interact with. It is a lot of pressure, but it is a reality. That being said, when was the last time you did something kind for your neighbor? For your boss? When is the last time you went out of your way to smile at somebody on the train when they gave you a dirty look, or the last time you gave a stranger a sincere compliment? During these times of hardship we need to go out of our way to show the love and mercy that is Islam through our actions, even through seemingly minuscule, every day things. Wallahi you have the power to shape minds and change perceptions.
Q: “Will you check out my poetry and give feedback?”
I know too well the terrifying, gut-knotting feeling of submitting work to strangers for critique, to ask them with all humility and sincerity, Is it worthy? Strangers! Not your teachers, not your friends or family who generally can’t help but use plastic knives and covered knuckles, but strangers! It is an act that takes courage and I am flattered each time someone asks me. But at least for now, I don’t want to take on this role. I just want you to keep writing poetry: some times it will be great poetry, some times it will be shitty poetry, but you’ll never get worse at it.
I am always happy see your poems in my inbox, but please don’t derive any significance or judgement if I don’t respond to your request