-> This account will be less shit-posts and more thought-out, serious posts. Perhaps when i surpass my original account, I'll delete it and make this my one and only main.
-> I go by the names Angeline, Alex, Rain, Silas, and use he/she pronouns.
This blog will be bits and pieces of me.
-> I love STEM (specifically electronics and automation), I'm a published author as of age 13, i aspire to be a mechatronic engineer, i love singing and dancing, and i dream of being an actress!
Some facts about me would be that I enjoy writing, reading, and listening to music. I'm obsessed with Greek myth. I'm a teenager and my favorite color is red. I'm in many fandoms, and i also write fanfic!! I adore Iron Man/Tony Stark, Spider-Man/Peter Parker, and very obviously am obsessed with Iron Dad and Spider-Son. I love PJO, HoO, ToA, and basically the entire Percy Jackson franchise. I love the Harry Potter franchise, and before anyone says anything, i despise JKR. I seperate the art from the artist, and avoid buying official merch that the money goes to her for. I'm strongly feminist and a queer ally. I adore Hamilton and enjoy Heathers. I love the Lunar Chronicles, a series I see literally nobody talk about. My favorite book of the series is for sure "Winter".
Please follow me on my social medias;
Tiktok & insta - @/angelbuildsstuff, where i... build stuff.
Tony knew from experience, from what he had lived through with Obadiah, how disgusting, sickening it was to be manipulated so young, your belief of "right" and "wrong" completely messed up as you struggled to see what was right in front of you, because reality hurt, and you knew deep down that you would rather believe you were loved.
And Tony knew from the moment he met Peter that he would never be somebody like that. Not only that, but he would never let something like that happen to the boy.
And Tony would never know what happened between Mysterio and Peter.
Peter, so young, grieving the lost of somebody so close, yearning to be held in those arms once again, and desperate; desperate enough to blindly trust the first person to offer it, any twisted version of it.
Peter, who had experienced this before, and yet, perhaps knowingly, perhaps subconsciously, ignored all the signs, all the times his Spidey-sense went haywire around Beck, because the need for comfort was greater than the perceived threat of danger.
Everybody forgot Peter Parker, so he does everything he can to not forget them.
To remember May's smile, her voice, her scent.
To remember Tony's eyes, the way they crinkled when he laughed, the smell of motor oil in the air, and some rock song blasting distantly.
To remember MJ, how she felt in his arms.
To remember Ned, his anchor through everything, Spider-Man or not.
The small details slip away from him sometimes, and he would hate himself for it. He had no excuse to forget them. They were the only thing he had, because he no longer had himself.
He could not lose them, not in memory, too.
Peter couldn't decide what was worse; to forget, or to remember.
"Are you man enough?" and it's the parallels between Tony and Peter, Peter, who never got the chance to grow up and make mistakes, forced to take the blame for this.
Just as a flower blooms ripe in sunlight, Hyacinthus had been best when he was with Apollo, even when (especially when) he bled out in his arms, wilting in the wind.
All the quotes I had shared and will share are here, gathered in one.
Enjoy ;)
The feeling felt oddly mortal, making Apollo feel vulnerable. And Apollo hated being vulnerable. Gods were not vulnerable.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
Hyacinthus absent-mindedly wondered if he meant anything to Apollo.
'Of course not,' Hyacinthus mentally scoffed. Why would a god like Apollo ever care about a mortal like himself? One who had achieved nothing? Not a hero, not an heir, not anything new or better. Even though the god had taken the time to talk with him, Hyacinthus could not imagine why.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
Apollo still remembered Daphne.
Of course he did.
How would he ever forget her?
And yet, there was a big difference between what he had felt with Daphne and what he was feeling about Hyacinthus.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
"...Of course, you do not. You have never known friendship, have you, Apollo?"
"Hyacinth, please–"
"Don't call me that."
— HYACINTH, Angeline K.
“Well,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less playful, “if I am life, then what does that make you?”
Apollo’s lips curved into a faint smile.
“The sun, of course,” He said, his fingers tracing idle patterns in the grass. “But only because you give me something worth shining for.”
— HYACINTH, Angeline K.
"I am going to be a hero," Hyacinthus answered proudly, determination in his voice.
"A hero?" Diomede chuckled, "Like Heracles?"
"Better than Heracles," Hyacinthus grinned. And yet, Hyacinthus had not become a hero. He was simply a mortal prince. He was not special.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
It was though he had been blessed and sculpted by Lady Aphrodite herself, each marking made carefully, to only add to his beauty.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
Besides; what was a god, if not perfect?
But that was the thing.
Apollo was not perfect.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
"You're warm," Hyacinthus commented.
"God of the sun, Hyacinthus," Apollo reminded.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
The god's mind began to spiral, as he imagined Hyacinthus's heart belonging to someone else, a mortal who could never understand or appreciate him as he could.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
Apollo didn't know what he felt. It was a messy blur of confusion, affection, and fear. Apollo had not felt fear before; not like this.
He was scared.
Scared that Hyacinthus would not love him, scared that he would somehow end up despising him, just as Daphne had.
Scared that this mortal [Thamyris] would steal him away from Apollo, scared that Hyacinthus would choose another over him.
And this was the odd part: Apollo could stop it, make Hyacinthus fall in love with him, but strangely, he did not want to. He wanted Hyacinthus to truly love him, to appreciate him, to adore him. He yearned for Hyacinthus to be his. Yearned for him to love him back.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
"You remember what happened the last time you had said that," Hermes said cautiously.
"Daphne was different," Apollo said, though it was unclear whether he was assuring Hermes or himself.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
As they walked, words began flowing with ease, genuine words, with the mortal prince looking at the god intently, listening to his every word with a curious expression, so painfully innocent, so youthful.
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
“Hyacinthus,” he began curiously.
“‘Hyacinth’,” Hyacinthus interrupted softly, almost instinctively. “Call me ‘Hyacinth’, as do my friends.”
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
“I apologize, it is just… I am nobody special. Not a hero, not an heir, not a demigod. I am a prince, of a kingdom I will never lead. I am nobody,” Hyacinthus went on, ignoring Apollo’s scoff, “and you… you are a god, the son of gods, an Olympian, a deity. I am nobody, next to somebody who embodies more than a mortal ever could, somebody who is not even in the same world as I, somebody who is all that a being could be. I am nothing, and you are everything. Thus, why would you, Olympian god of the sun, pay any mind to me, Spartan royalty?”
...
“Look,” Apollo began softly, “you are not nothing. You are not nobody. You do not need to be a hero, or a demigod, or a king to be something. You are something because you feel, because you are. Nothing gets to take that away from you, Hyacinth. You are something.”
--- HYACINTH, Angeline K.
... “I am the god of truth,” Apollo said as he raised his eyebrows, meeting Hyacinthus’ gaze, “Lying does not work on me.”
“It is not a lie.” Not completely.
“Do you not trust me?” Apollo asked instead.
Hyacinthus paused. He knew that it was a
very dangerous question...
seeing a whole city cheer and pray and weep for the spider-man, who really was a man now. no longer the lanky kid he met ten years ago. he’d really come into his own, hadn’t he? he’s got the technique, the confidence, the strength. and he’s never lost his heart. that’s what got tony the most. ‘cuz that’s why he believed in him, all those years ago; sitting on a lumpy twin mattress and hearing this fourteen year old say, yes, i choose to be a hero without any of the glory. i choose the humble, more difficult path. i choose to be good. i choose to be kind. he could have thrown his hands up, it’s not like he asked for this power, or the grief and hardship that came with it. but instead he embraced it, and took the responsibility and let it drive him to be better.
that’s why new york loves spider-man — he’s the bleeding heart of that city.
tony knew that. he would have loved to see it finally come around.
Fanfic where Steve has terrible internalized homophobia since he grew up in the 20th century + most likely religious, but hes also in love with Tony and hes in denial, right?
Tony loves him back.
Civil War years, before Siberia, they decide to talk it out etc and Steve confesses about Bucky killing Tony's parents, so we've got all that in the open.
Some time passes and they get closer. One night, they get much closer, and I think it goes a little bit like this:
Steve stared at him, eyes wide and flickering back and forth from Tony's eyes to his lips, his heart hammering in his chest. Tony smiled faintly.
"It's okay," he murmured. "Kiss me."
Steve kept staring, speechless, as though he had not thought about this moment for months, as though he had not prayed to be guided to the right path. But he knew this wasn't it. This was wrong.
Eventually, he stammered, "I- I can't-"
Tony frowned, bringing up a hand to caress the side of the other man's face, his thumb dragging across his cheek. He wouldn't push, of course not, but he could tell that the other man did want this. So... why?
"Why?"
"I can't, I just can't, it's wrong, Tony," Steve blurted out. Tony reeled back in surprise and hurt. "I'm sorry, I-"
"It's fine," Tony brushed off, stepping away from Steve, not meeting his gaze. "Have a good night, Rogers."
As Tony moved to leave, Steve spoke up, causing the man to pause in the doorway.
"In another life," Steve said softly. "But not here, and not now. Not when we're both men. I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Tony spoke curtly, not letting the hurt get the best of him.
Tony finally met the man's gaze, silence filling the air between them for a moment.
"In another life," he echoed before turning around, closing the door softly. Without another thought, he made his way down to the lab.
On the other side of the door, Steve sat down on his bed, putting his head in his hands.
In another life.
So that might be my most poorly written drabble this year... oof. BUT DO YOU GET THE IDEA???????? RELIGIOUS (INTERNALLY) HOMOPHOBIC STEVE x TONY WHO'S UTTERLY SMITTEN. TONY WHO GETS HURT BY THE FACT STEVE BELIEVES WHOLE-HEARTEDLY THAT ITS WRONG. STEVE WHO THINKS SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH HIM, WHO PRAYS FOR HELP.
