Where Angels Fear to Tread, oil on panel,
this has been a vocal stim since i first fucking heard it. idk it just tickles my brain a little
a Buck/Bucky tennis AU by phlegmatic
Gale meets John Egan at a Challenger in Bordeaux when they’re both 19 years old. After that, he can’t seem to shake him. But what’s more is, despite what his dad says about Gale’s game, and what the commentators say about their rivalry, and what he’s been told about tennis his whole life, Gale doesn’t think he wants to.
Hearing Lee yell “C’mon” above the groaning of the crowd isn’t because he’s louder than anyone else’s disappointment; it’s because it’s a sound that Gale is hearing inside his own head anyway. The aim had been correct, according to Gale’s eyes, but his body is lurching into serves with limbs dragged through pulpy juice—or something even more viscous, hotter, like the air weighing down his lungs. Weather forecast didn’t say anything about heat, but Gale may as well be breathing in the sun and seawater. Both serves (both faults), he looked down the court—desert stretch of orange—and Lemmons was made of soft rubber, but Gale could see the lines. The ball is the problem, not going where he sends it. His body is moving too slow, is the problem, and there’s a knife behind his eye, poking through the cotton wool filling his skull. The ringing in his ears is the problem, the dizziness.
🎾 read chapter five on ao3 🎾
@i-wrotethisforme // Jorge Louis Berges // @smokeinsilence //@viridianmasquerade //Jorge Louis Berges // @honeytuesday // Kaveh Akbar // F. Scott Fitzgerald // AKR //Olivie Blake, from “Alone With You in the Ether” // Kaveh Akbar, Pilgrimage
im still losing it over the "how did high schoolers write 600 word essays before chatgpt" post. 600 words. that is nothing. that is so few words what do you mean you can't write 600 words. 600 words. this post right here is 45 words.