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@shoveanavocadoupmyass / shoveanavocadoupmyass.tumblr.com

"THING'S ARE ROUGH ALL OVER." - The Outsiders 2P!AMERICA WRITTEN BY APOLLO. 20+ || 10+ yrs experience Please read THIS before proceeding, and beware CRUDE HUMOUR AHOY! Sidebar Source Icon Source
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you’re sitting across from me in a shitty diner in anywhere, america, and i watch you pour too much creamer in your coffee and i think “i love you.” you look up, catching me staring, and for a moment i think i’m brave enough to say it, but i take too long and the moment passes. i take the balled up straw wraper and flick it at you, pretending that was my plan all along. you laugh. i never want to go another day without hearing that laugh. i think i will have all the time in the world to say it.

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bro i was homoerotically cleaning and patching up my friend’s wounds and you ruined it. i was scolding him for being an idiot in an exasperated but fond tone of voice while i tenderly bandaged his knuckles and we both tried unsuccessfully to avoid looking into each other’s eyes until the tension between us became unbearable when you entered the room without knocking and fucking killed the mood. what the hell, man.

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Rules: Bold what applies to your muse, repost & tag some friends!

HAMILTON

wax seals. writing in ink. that moment when your stomach drops and you realize something horrible is about to happen. a single candle in the dark. heated arguments. ballroom dancing. stacks of paper overflowing a desk. fresh beginnings. the ticking of a clock. loud arguments. hand kisses. the barely-there trace of a word that’s been erased. passive aggressive texts. icy faces and wet cheeks. blood on the ground. forgiveness. quiet gasps into silence.

FALSETTOS

the tetris music. a pen scraping against paper. dayenu. the muffled sound of crying in your mother’s room. tense silence at the dinner table. a chess board left in the middle of a game. carefully placed decorative pillows. stimming. red hoodies. kisses in the back of a dark bar. baseball. a hand on your thigh. sweaters. prayer shawls. too much champagne. the beeping of hospital instruments. hickeys all over your body. boxes full of old polaroids. fresh flowers on a gravestone.

IN THE HEIGHTS

piragua. flags blowing in the wind. muffled latin music. champagne bottles popping loudly. fireworks. slushies being slurped through a straw. pigeons picking bread-crumbs. candles in a blackout. the hottest day of the summer when the air seems to turn liquid. fire-escapes. taxis. dress-shirts and black ties. record scratches. graffiti. streetlights. winning lottery tickets. gossip at the salon. stacks of school books. the sound of a train going by. secrets kept away from the neighbors. coming home at the end of the day.

SPRING AWAKENING

wildflowers. white sundresses. first kisses. clammy hands holding each other. flower crowns. haylofts. tingly feelings all over. goethe. endless darkness. cold hands. silent screams. chalk against a chalkboard. all-nighters. wine yards. too-tight braids. bruises. innocence lost. graveyards. love letters. adults that don’t get it. piano lessons. study dates. phantom touches. whispers that stop when you get close. rolled down knee socks. your dad’s gun.

LEGALLY BLONDE

tiny dogs. red bull. pink. hello kitty. getting cat called. corduroy. leather messenger bags. the sound of high heels against tiles. scented paper. unworn fancy dresses. smeared lipstick. walking up on stage during your graduation. the flow-feeling you get into when studying something you actually care about. the scent of department stores. the tense atmosphere in court rooms. finding unexpected sisterhood.

WAITRESS

the scent of freshly baked pies. flour on your hands. old diners from the 60s that still look the same. southern hospitality. those dreadful minutes after you take a test and have to wait for a result. feeling lonely at night while someone else is asleep right next to you. contorted guitar chords. old recipe books passed down through generations. knowing something is wrong but doing it anyway. nights spent curled up on the couch with true crime shows.

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“No. It’s a marker for me. Storming towards the aliens.” Alfred puts a hand on Allan’s shoulder, suddenly looking super serious.
“Dude, you cannot film the actual aliens. You know how much trouble I’d get in?” He stares at Allan for a moment to make sure he gets that and then he…sort of remembers everything and quickly pulls his hand away while clearing his throat. “Anyway. That’s the plan.”

“...Okay. So...how does it help me, then? What am I filming? Just...you? Or?” Allan raises a skeptical eyebrow. “If they’re mistreating the aliens I’m taping it, dude. Just blame me since I’m gonna get shot no matter what, apparently.” 

He caught that, though. Agh - did he make it weird? He looks down at his shoes, and then up at the plan and nods. 

“Sure. I have no fucking clue what we’re doing, but I guess I’ll wing it.” 

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“You’re not gonna get shot. Well…probably not.” Alfred shrugs before spreading his hands over his plans and looking proud. Are they comprehensible to anyone but him? Nah. Is he fully explaining them? Nah.
“This is where you gotta really focus on the footage. It’s gonna have the best angle for seeing the base.” He jabs his finger at some squiggle mark on a crudely drawn map before moving to clasp Allan’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you, dude. Even if you get shot once or twice, just keep filming. You’ll be fine.”

“Comforting.” 

Allan looks down at the map, glad there’s at least something, even though it’s near impossible to decipher as it stands. 

“What am I supposed to be filming?” He asks, squinting at the squiggle. “Is this a marker for aliens or malpractice?” 

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“Sweet. I’ve written up a game plan for the best way in.” He’s literally allowed to just walk in, so of course he knows the way. This is for the meme. “You have a GoPro? We gotta put it on Youtube.”

“Okay, sick, sick.” Allan says, nodding and waiting for the more comprehensive plan to be explained to him - he is, however, not surprised when Alfred asks if he has a GoPro instead of being useful.

“No, but I can get one. Or like a lapel cam or something - I think if they see I’m wearing a camera I’ll get double shot.” 

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Alfred let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. He was glad Allan had agreed and hadn’t been sure what he’d do if he hadn’t, frankly.
“As long as you leave that hippy shit in here,” he said, motioning at the kombucha. “Looks nasty.” And with that he was making his way out of the kitchen to collapse on the couch, spilling his water a bit as he did so. He quickly propped his feet up on the coffee table, messing with the remote to get Netflix started at least. Not very successfully, but it helped distract him from…thinking about stuff.
“I think your TV is broken or something,” he mumbled, half to himself.

“I can drink whatever the fuck I want,” Allan said, picking the bottle back up and letting the bright green liquid swish in front of him before taking another swig. He returned the bottle to the fridge, grabbed his water bottle, and followed Al into his living room. 

He clambered onto the couch, standing on it first and then plopping down with he legs crossed and plucking the remote from Alfred’s hands. “It’s fine.” He said, managing to turn the TV on and pull up Netflix despite his TV apparently being broken. 

YOU VS. WILD was the obvious choice. They were gonna get fucked up on Bear Grylls and probably argue and probably die a bunch. But, hell. Allan was just glad Alfred hadn’t left. 

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