HE WAS GOING TO CONFESS FIRST
HE HAD PUT A CHAIR - A WALL - BETWEEN THEM
AND HE 👏 CROSSED 👏 THE METAPHORICAL WALL
HE WAS GROUNDING HIMSELF
AND HE LET GO
HE SHATTERED THE WALL AND LET GO OF THE LAST THING THAT WAS HOLDING HIM BACK. AND HE WAS LOOKING AT HIM. NOT THE DOOR. CAS
HE WAS GOING TO CONFESS FIRST
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god it hurts that the last thing ed wanted was for stede to be hurt. it was never going to go any other way, he didnt blame stede for leaving, he blamed himself for being the reason he wanted to leave. he was never going to stab him in the stomach in their return, he was never going to shoot him or cage him. ed never wanted stede hurt because the problem could never be stede, it had to be him. silly edward for thinking otherwise, stede was right to go. if he ever found stede again he would get on his knees and beg him to stay
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this might be problematic, but back when i was a “pretty little lady” (read: closeted trans man) traipsing around the rural south, i would openly fuck with the men who assumed that i must have lipstick for brains. i reserved this tactic for the turbo misogynistic “women should bleed on the birthing bed” types. like. if one of those nasty motherfuckers started to overexplain something ludicrously simple to me, i’d keep saying, “oh really? what does THAT mean?” until they realized i was full of shit. my crowning achievement is that i once conned a baptist into explaining that books have chapters
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Thursday Snippet
I was last tagged by @disgruntledkittenface to share a snippet of my WIP. I’ve been meaning to post a snippet all week but then Louis wore shorts and tank tops and I lost my mind, and it’s now Thursday and I’m just getting around to sharing.
ANYWAY.
I FINALLY got Harry and Louis to FOR REAL kiss last weekend which feels like such a relief. I’m not gonna give away the farm and share the kiss but I WILL share some of the build-up to it. I hope you enjoy!!
“Thanks for tonight,” Harry says. “I haven’t had that much fun dancing since…I don’t know when.”
“I’m glad,” Louis smiles over at him. “Dancing should always be fun. If it’s not fun, why are you doing it?”
“Easy for you to say, superstar.”
“What do you mean?” Louis asks, no heat or defensiveness in his voice, only curiosity.
“Sorry, that wasn’t meant to be a drag or anything,” Harry explains, carding his fingers through his hair, trying to organize his thoughts. “I know how hard you work, Louis, no one does the kind of skills you do without hard work and lots of practice. I know that, believe me. And I know you’ve faced your own challenges. I can’t imagine what it was like for you being catapulted into the stratosphere basically right out of our apprentice year. But from my perspective you’ve always like…not that you’ve had it easy, but you made it look easy. You have this…sparkle when you dance that can’t be taught. So of course you would think dancing should always be fun. Because it’s never not been fun for you. And look, you know you’ve always been everyone’s favorite. Even when we were little kids all the teachers doted on you.”
Louis doesn’t say anything, he just looks back at him, his brow slightly furrowed and a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. Harry can’t help but panic a little, not wanting to end the evening on a sour note.
“Or maybe the teachers doted on you because you were having fun and you were easy to love, not to mention ridiculously talented, so it was clear you were destined for greatness, even back then,” Harry babbles. “And maybe I’m full of shit and have always been jealous of the way people just gravitate to you like you’re the fucking sun or something and I wish I could be more like that, I don’t know. I just know that I don’t know the last time I thought dancing was fun and not work and I hate that because you’re right, it should be fun, it’s dancing, for fuck’s sake. Sorry, it’s late and I’m word vomiting and I’m not making any sense, am I?”
Harry takes a deep breath to settle himself and then looks over at Louis, relieved to find no judgment on his face, just understanding and a soft smile.
“It’s funny because I thought you were the teacher’s pet,” Louis says. “You’ve always had such perfect technique, Harry. You were the one teachers would call attention to in class, remember? ‘Look at Harry’s extension,’ or ‘Watch Harry’s arms.’ They would talk about your height and your long legs and how they made you an ideal dancer which made me nuts cause like, those were things about myself I could never change. The teachers may have doted on me, sure, but you had their respect. You always did. And look at you now. You have the whole company’s respect, you know that, right? How many principal dancers are there? Twenty? And who has the first position at the barre and sets the tone for company class every day?”
“I do,” Harry says with pride, standing a little taller.
“You do,” Louis affirms, nudging him gently. “You’re like the glue that keeps everyone together. No, you’re more than just glue. You’re the foundation. You’re the one that pushes us all to be better. Don’t underestimate how important that is. How important you are.”
Warmth fills Harry’s chest as they turn on to Thompson Street.
“Peter should have promoted you sooner,” Louis continues, kicking an empty beer can towards the curb. “He should have promoted you when I went to San Francisco. He always seemed to value flashiness over consistency which really sucks, especially for someone like you who is nothing but consistent. I’m sorry those years in the background somehow convinced you that you were just a workhorse and not an extraordinary dancer who deserves the spotlight. You’ve always sparkled, Harry, most of all to me.”
Tagging @indiaalphawhiskey @myfineline @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @kingsofeverything @louandhazaf @absoloutenonsense @greenfeelings @nouies @allwaswell16 (even though I know you JUST posted a full fic) and @lululawrence to share anything they are working on, if they wish!
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