ive been following your everything but the kitchen sink series for a WHILE now and i finally sat down today to read *breathin'* and i am literally at the edge of my seat waiting for more
holy shit all of that writing is soooo good, you're so talented and i can't wait to read more of your fics <3
WAHH thank you thank you I do love my bdsm twin fics I really do. It's fun to explore the difference in their dynamics because they're SO distinct to me.
have a lil bit from my breathing side fic series of one shots, Deep Breaths;
It’s the sort of late that’s circled back around to early, the world going the eerie navy of pre-dawn as Gale rouses himself from where he’d half-awake reading a paper on the sofa. The occasional whisper of nighttime traffic had shifted to a steady hum of cars going by, third shift workers coming home and early risers beginning to hit the road. Gale’s back ached and his eyelids felt dry like paper, he rubs them until spots dance in front of his eyes and groans. He hadn’t meant to let the only light be that of his laptop, but he’d forgotten to ever turn another on, once the light had dimmed.
On the other side of the couch, hand tucked up under his chin uncomfortably, John inhales and shifts. He grunts, blinking a few times and his feet push against Gale’s in a quiet question.
“Sorry,” Gale says quietly.
“Christ, Buck, did you even sleep?”
“Working on training myself to nap with my eyes open.”
“Hmm,” John laughs, his mouth curving into a smile. His eyes were shut again, short blunt lashes dark lines against his skin. He’d cut his hair recently, and the unusually tamed curls stick tight around his head, rather than flopping like they used to.
Steve Rogers did, in fact, realize that something was off when he saw the outline of the woman’s odd bra (a push-up bra, he would later learn), but being an officer and a gentleman, he said that it was the game that gave the future away.
No, see, this scene is just amazing. The costume department deserves so many kudos for this, it’s unreal, especially given the fact that they pulled off Peggy pretty much flawlessly.
1) Her hair is completely wrong for the 40’s. No professional/working woman would have her hair loose like that. Since they’re trying to pass this off as a military hospital, Steve would know that she would at least have her hair carefully pulled back, if maybe not in the elaborate coiffures that would have been popular.
2) Her tie? Too wide, too long. That’s a man’s tie, not a woman’s. They did, however, get the knot correct as far as I can see - that looks like a Windsor.
3) That. Bra. There is so much clashing between that bra and what Steve would expect (remember, he worked with a bunch of women for a long time) that it has to be intentional. She’s wearing a foam cup, which would have been unheard of back then. It’s also an exceptionally old or ill-fitting bra - why else can you see the tops of the cups? No woman would have been caught dead with misbehaving lingerie like that back then, and the soft satin cups of 40’s lingerie made it nearly impossible anyway. Her breasts are also sitting at a much lower angle than would be acceptable in the 40’s.
Look at his eyes. He knows by the time he gets to her hair that something is very, very wrong.
There’s no knowing what kind of condition Steve’s in, or what kind of person he really is, after decades of nostalgia blur the reality and the long years in the ice (after a plane crash and a shitload of radiation) do their work. (Pre-crash Steve is in lots of files, I’m sure. Nick Fury does not trust files.) So Fury instructs his people to build a stage, and makes sure that the right people put up some of the wrong cues.
Maybe the real Steve’s a dick, or just an above-average jock; maybe he had a knack for hanging out with real talent. Maybe he hit his head too hard on the landing and he’s not gonna be Captain anymore. On the flipside, if he really is smart, then putting him in a standard, modern hospital room and telling him the truth is going to have him clamming up and refusing to believe a goddamn thing he hears for a really long time.
The real question here is, how long it does it take for the man, the myth, the legend to notice? What does he do about it? How long does he wait to get his bearings, confirm his suspicions, and gather information before attempting busting out?
Sometimes clever posts die a quiet death in the abyss of the unreblogged. Some clever posts get attention, get comments, get better. Then there’s this one which I’ve watched evolve into a thing of brilliance.
cis male / born 1994 / brazilian-american / cw: alcohol, mild violence, bruising
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the language of flowers completely took over my life and my friends didn't help it by giving me a bunch of songs that fit the vibes SO you're getting the first chapter for the first instalment of this series (fyi i took liberties when it comes to meanings)
this will follow canon as it relates to pre-s1 buck and maddie, i gave buck an interest in flowers bc why not and maddie supports him; there are OCs abound in this so pls bear with me! my focus will always be buck (and later on tommy) so be patient?
(click on image link for playlist compiled by me that inspired this series)
1. when a flower grows wild, it can always survive
1540 words | rated G
also on AO3 (and series)
summary:
She listens.
"And what does the honeysuckle mean?"
(…)
"It represents the bonds of love." He reads with an awed smile.
"That's beautiful, Evan."
[also known as, the one where Evan Buckley discovers the language of flowers]
His parents are going to yell at him.
His jeans are dirty.
His t-shirt had gotten snagged on the brush he hadn't noticed was full of spikes.
His fingers and arms are covered in small colorful band-aids from Maddie's small first-aid kit that she started carrying around long ago.
His parents are going to yell at him.
He'll track dirt inside the house. A slimy worm will find its way inside his mom's coffee mug. His jeans will ruin the washing machine for at least a week - a small rock forgotten inside one of his pockets finding its way into the mechanism.
He'll have to dispose of the dying flowers in a week. His worm box will be discovered by his father and he'll have to find new homes for them, among the neighbour's flowers.
His parents are going to yell at him.
Later.
That afternoon, when he returns.
Just like they yelled at him last week.
When he returned from the Elliot's house next door with his knees full of dirt and a handful of colorful flowers and bright green weeds.
Just like they yelled at him last month.
When he talked about the Elliot's sunflowers for over an hour. When he made his mother nauseous as he explained in great detail what was in the Elliot's compost mix. When he repeated the word "rake" one too many times and his father begged him to stop.
Just like they yelled at him the month before.
When the Elliot's moved in next door and he lost track of time helping them start up their garden from new. When he lost track of time looking at pictures from the couple's previous house and the much smaller garden there. When he lost track of time asking questions and listening to the answers.
They listen.
June and August Elliot are an older couple, starting their 70s in their new home. They wear colorful outfits. Older fabric, well-loved, mismatching sometimes.
They are fun.
Every time they are in their garden, they play music. Loud, upbeat, a mix of R&B, rock and pop that has them moving their bodies to the beat as they prune, water and sow their large garden. Sometimes, they grab each other's hand and twirl in a spontaneous routine, dirt-covered hands on each other's skin and clothes.
They don't care about their clothes being dirty.
They are fun.
They invited him to help them after catching him looking at their garden over the fence. Their inviting smiles were real, trusting. The cookies they got for him the next time he went over were even more inviting.
Maddie likes them too.
June gave her advice, listened to her. Sold Maddie her old Jeep for a good price - at least he thinks it was, from how wide Maddie smiled and nodded at the offer.
August told her about his high school graduation. How he and his friends got into their car and traveled to the next town and then the next and the next, just for a weekend. They saw more than their quiet small town could ever show them.
That's where he met June, he said.
They speak with love about each other, about finding each other.
Love. Family.
June was a lawyer. Family law. August was a costume designer. Fantasy, mostly.
They are retired, now.
They have time, now. No children, no grandchildren. They have time to be with each other. To be among the flowers, the bees, the birds. To just…be.
They have time for Maddie.
They have time for him.
They listen.
So, he doesn't mind that his parents are going to yell at him.
He just enjoys the July sun. Dirt-covered jeans, torn t-shirt staining green from the grass where he lays, green grass tickling his cheeks and his bare ankles, blue sky with barely any clouds.
Peaceful. Quiet.
Well…
"Did you know," Evan continues, waiting for Maddie's questioning hum from where she has been looking at her phone's screen, laying beside him. "That honeysuckles make berries in the fall?"
"Oh?"
Evan hums in the affirmative, hastily clean fingers holding his book over his face. "Songbirds eat those berries. They are also l-larval hosts for the sn-snowberry clearwing moth," He scrunches his nose and tilts his head, trying to read the penned in annotation. "They look like giant bumblebees!"
He turns his head to look at his sister who has put down her phone and looks at him with an interested smile. He smiles back.
She listens.
"And what does the honeysuckle mean?"
Maddie went to New York after her high school graduation. She and her friends got into the jeep, giggling and excited. A girl's trip, she called it.
Their parents weren't too happy. They argued, of course. But she stood strong. She refuted every argument, every complaint. She was strong, he was proud.
His big sister.
Maddie went to New York for a weekend.
She showed him her developed pictures of the Empire State Building. Of the facade of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Of the chaos in Times Square. Of the sea in Orchard Beach. Of the ducks in Central Park.
Maddie went to New York in mid-June.
When his 10th birthday came around, he opened the sensible gifts from his parents. A pair of comfortable shoes, a winter jacket, a 3-pack of t-shirts in monotone colors.
He opened the unexpected gift from the Elliot's. A dark green duffel bag with a floral pattern inside, durable, fun, filled with his favorite peanut butter cookies.
And then he opened Maddie's.
A book.
Old, used. Full of annotations, illustrations.
Loved.
Flowers, weeds, seeds. All the information he could need.
His arms wrapped tightly around her, showering her with gratitude. Treasuring the hug she returned, her delighted laughter, the kiss she laid on his head.
Evan tells her all about it.
Shows her the illustrations, makes her laugh with the stories written in pen on the pages - of failed attempts, of a stray cat finding a home under the recently planted tulips, of an invasion of bees surrounding the recently picked daisies in a warm kitchen.
Tells her of how the author's more scientific approach is balanced by the emotional stories they had for some of the entries. Tells her how the previous owners of the book wrote in ammendments or stories or poems.
Tells her all the information printed and written in the pages.
She listens.
The Elliot's listen too.
The book becomes theirs too.
It's a chaos of writing in the dedication page. It's beautiful.
It's gardens were our life and we share our knowledge, our history with you, in the book's printed font. It's my flower, my life was dull without the beauty of your petals, added in neat handwriting with a fountain pen right under it.
It becomes to my brother, always in search of blue skies, written in Maddie's flowing handwriting. It becomes flowers can speak the words in your heart, written in June's rushed handwriting with Evan's school pen.
It's beautiful.
His most precious possession.
He traces the yellow and pink petals of the honeysuckle on the page. Reads the handwriting along the border of the illustration, to our beloved Iris, the flower that completes our family, that joins our bond of love. A message of love, of family.
"It represents the bonds of love." He reads with an awed smile.
"That's beautiful, Evan."
It's beautiful.
He sits up suddenly.
"Evan?"
He's on a mission.
"I'll be right back." And he watches Maddie lay back down on the grass, confused frown wrinkling her forehead.
He's on a mission.
He has the clear picture of yellow and pink petals in his mind. He is determined.
He sees it.
He pinches the stem above a leaf, like August taught him, so new flowers can bloom. He does that twice. Holds the two flowers in his hand before he carefully twists the stems together. He runs back, kneeling next to his sister, sitting back on his heels. He holds out the flowers to a now-less confused Maddie.
"What's this?"
"They are called lon-loniceras," He explains, rubbing his hands in his jeans after she carefully takes the flowers from his hand. "Honeysuckles."
She smiles sweetly at him and the sun is bright, the skies are clear and their parents are going to yell at them.
Later.
Not now.
"And they represent the bonds of love." She continues.
She listens. She always listens.
"It-It's our bonds of love," He nods, looking at the flowers. "It's so, uh, so you never forget us."
The Elliot's came to replace the Jones, who came to replace the Richards.
People leave.
Maddie graduated high school in the beginning of June. She left for a weekend to New York.
People leave.
"Evan," Her voice is soft and he tries to ignore the worry in his stomach. "I will never forget us."
People leave.
He nods and returns her smile.
Maybe it'll be okay.
"Do you want to tell me more about honeysuckles?"
Evan nods and lays back down next to Maddie, opens the book in the yellow and pink flower. He smiles once again at the inscription, every letter filled with love.
(sorry if I'm being annoying lol) getting the last rounds in for this
if you've watched these shows, let me know you're thoughts! (please actually write your thoughts on the queerbaiting that did or did not happen, it's all very useful to me lmao)
Simple opinion based survey on queerbaiting in TV shows
alright, time to disappear off Tumblr again, thank you!!
tangentwithtanner
blakekathryn
andulkaphoto
turnnoffyourmind
areudirty
