#i have one or two more in mind but these are currently the ones i'm most proud of/happy with

[ssahotchnerr]

Hello! How are you doing?

I don't have anything extremely specific (sorry, I'm just leaving work and haven't really thought about this).

But if you want to, how about jealous Aaron who has the, very rare, opportunity to go pick up the reader from her job and see her all smiles with another coworker? In this case I was thinking that there might be a age gap between them and the male coworker is more of her age? So a bit of jealous and insecure Hotch?

If you feel comfortable with this of course!

Have a good day 😊

in comparison

cw; fem!reader, age gap, insecure :( and jealous!aaron, some angst, small suggestiveness, fluff <3 wc; 1.2k

You were exiting the building with a few of your colleagues, partaking in what appeared to be an entertaining conversation from Aaron's line of sight. The liveliness on your face was vivid, undoubtedly enjoying whatever the whole of you were collectively discussing.

You looked comfortable, relaxed, happy. You molded into the group well. One of your male colleagues in particular was inching a bit too close, a near awestruck expression on his face as a laugh escaped you. If he took one step to his right, his shoulder would be touching yours. While you were clueless, he was enamored.

Aaron felt his eyes harden involuntarily, a jealous heat swarming through his body; he wanted to march over there and assert his role as yours. However, the feeling wasn't long lasting. A profound sadness climbed up his spine, as he gained a different perspective.

It wasn't that you didn't fit into his life. On the complete contrary: you were the perfect addition.

But something about seeing you with others, with someone closer to your age, was daunting. Intimidating. It sickened him how natural the visual appeared. Reality has smacked him in the face numerous times over the years, he wouldn't be surprised if it happened again. That somehow, someway, you would prefer the latter. The one that had nothing to do with him.

As you walked towards Aaron's car, you glanced back at your coworkers, offering a wave and a smile as they jointly headed to the parking lot. His window was opened a crack, and he heard you call back towards them, "Have fun tonight!"

Aaron exhaled a breath.

"Hey." You chirped as you slid into the passenger seat, leaning over the center console to place a kiss on Aaron's cheek. He was rather stiff as you did so, causing you to lightly scrunch your nose in confusion, pulling away slowly. Something was up.

"Hey," He echoed, greeting you with an almost forced smile. The abruptness of his thoughts had unsettled him deeply - he couldn't shake them. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." You responded hesitantly, searching his face as you buckled your seatbelt. You added after a moment, happy to be in his company and the emotion overtaking your heart. "I missed you today."

But your words went unnoticed, as he had already reentered the void that was his unwelcome thoughts.

In result the car ride home was silent, Aaron's pout unfaltering. His mind was plagued by the image of your coworker being in his place, driving you home, or the two of you huddled together amongst a night out with friends. It caused an uncomfortable, sad pit in his stomach.

"You missed a turn."

"What?"

Your statement jolted him back to earth. No he didn't... did he? His eyebrows furrowed in a line, reassessing the current surroundings. Nothing out of the ordinary, all familiar street signs. When he confirmed he, in fact, did not miss a turn, he turned to you, only to find a knowing smirk plastered on your face.

His eyebrows quirked softly, obstructing the line drawn above his eyes. "What was that about?"

"To get your mind off whatever you're stewing about."

A smile threatened his lips, due to your witty expression and observation, "I'm not." His tone found a slightly lighter note - amusingly guilty. Anything but convincing.

"Aaron, darling, you're gonna break some teeth if that," Your playful demeanor dropped for a moment, your eyes tracing back and forth, as if you were in a trance. "Jaw of yours tightens anymore."

Your brief distraction eased a notion of his jealousy, he still had that effect on you, thankfully. He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his stare forward.

"So what is it?" You asked, "Did you have a bad day?"

He shook his head.

"Bad bout of cases?"

Aaron grimaced, his knuckles letting up only to secure his fingers over the wheel again, "They're always bad."

"Something I did?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but only silence came out. His hesitation caused your face to fall, your shoulders dropping and posture succumbing to the back of your seat.

"No honey, no you didn't do anything." He was quick to reassure, feeling entirely worse. "I can assure you."

Your eyes met his, needing more.

He sighed defeatedly, surprisingly not afraid to bluntly admit, "I'm jealous."

"Jealous?" You froze, but then it clicked. You gestured behind, as if your colleagues were somehow tailing the two of you. "Of...?"

Aaron bit his lip, nodding slowly.

Your expression lightened, a soft and genuine wonder in your eyes, "Why?"

"Are you okay with this?" Confusion arose on your face once more, so he clarified. "This. Us. You signed up for a lot, quickly at that."

Truth be told, the two of you had progressed at a rate neither of you expected, due to the sheer infatuation you possessed for one another. That, too, had been natural.

"I'm divorced, widowed, a father - I come with baggage. My 'going-out' are days long gone. I don't want you missing out."

"Aaron." In a way, you could laugh. It tore your heart into pieces he was thinking this way, doubting himself but he was clueless in an adorably, idiotic way. In summary, he simply never gave himself the credit he deserved. "What could I possibly be missing out on?"

"You could be spending your weekends out, socializing, with people closer in age. And yet, you're..." He came up with an example. "Making pillow forts. These are supposed to be the best years of your life. I'm terribly boring in comparison."

"Hey, I make a mean pillow fort."

He gave you a look.

Your hand grabbed his bicep affectionately, clinging onto it as if you were knocking some sense into him. "I chose this. I chose you. Jack is the addition to my life I never knew I needed. And I don't want to be out galavanting bar to night club to bar. I jump at the opportunity to deny a night out to spend it in. With you. When have you ever seen me wanting to go out and party?"

An expression of distaste flashed across your face at the concept, and Aaron's head tilted to the side as he considered your point.Yeah, that was true.

"I'm a homebody. And if there's anything I've realized over the course of the past months, you're my home. You."

Aaron let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"I know what I'm in for. And I embrace it with open arms. I want it." Your face was content, even more so than when you were talking with your colleagues. "I love you. And I love the life we're creating. It's so special, beyond my wildest dreams."

"Really?" A boyish, hopeful expression graced his face.

"Really. I wouldn't want it any other way. I can promise you. This- you're everything I could ever want."

Aaron's hand found your thigh, giving it a gentle, loving squeeze. "I love you too, sweetheart."

You beamed in response - you'd never get tired of the words leaving his lips.

"That one guy though," Aaron raised his eyebrows, taking a quick glance at you. Envy began creeping back, "He seemed interested. Wasn't a fan of that."

You scoffed, unbothered. "I'm into men, not boys. Which again, you are the utmost depiction of." Your delightful smirk resurfaced, admirably looking him over. "Believe me, I couldn't be more satisfied."

He wanted to play into your suggestive remarks, but he needed further confirmation. Once more. "You sure?"

"Oh, I'm positive."

Finally satisfied himself, he surrendered, "Okay."

"In fact, I can think of a few ways to show you just how much later."

[em1989ts]

𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

five hargreeves x reader

word count: 1.7k

part one. part two.

summary: after discovering your husband cheated on you with his brother's wife, you run off to a different timeline using the subway, only to find a deli crowded with a familiar face.

author's note: this is my first fic that i'm actually posting lol, if anyone sees this i'll be totally shocked

“Just leave me alone, Five.”

You were speed walking down the steps into what looked like an abandoned subway, desperately trying to avoid the man you thought you knew, who was currently right on your tail.

“Not until you talk to me, y/n,” he pleaded, swiftly trying to catch up. 

“There’s nothing to discuss, Five,” you said in a cold manner. 

You just couldn’t speak to him. Not after what just happened in the living room with him and Diego. After what was just brought to light. 

You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 

Why would you hear him out? Why would he believe he had a right to explain himself? How could he? A marriage of over half a century, down the drain. And for what? 

Seven years with her.

Lila. 

His brother’s wife. The mother of his brother’s children. The child of the couple he assassinated. 

It made no sense. 

You angrily sped up and quickly got onto the train that was stopped at the station. It’s white light making you more stressed than you already were. 

The doors shut in his face. Just a couple more seconds and he would’ve been on this train. You would’ve been stuck having to hear him try and save face until the next stop. 

Sometimes the universe lets you win. 

But why not this time. 

You stared at him through the window of the subway car doors. He looked at you pleadingly. You looked at him disappointedly. 

Who was he, because he sure as hell wasn’t the Five you had known since you were thirteen years old. Stuck in the apocalypse with nothing but ashes and him.

 You had thought it was fate. You and him were meant to be stuck together, meant to be there for each other. Even after everything that’s happened. Apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse. 

The subway started to move. You stayed standing, staring at him with daggers in your eyes until he was out of sight. He didn’t chase after the car, he knew it was pointless. He knew he’d never get you back. He didn’t deserve you. 

Once the outside of the train was completely dark and all you could see was your own reflection in the window, you turned and took a seat. Hands in your lap, looked straight ahead, drained. 

What were you supposed to do now? Where would you go? 

Maybe this train would take you to a universe with a Five that could never dream of betraying you the way your own did. 

The lights shone over you as you were deep in thought. You had no idea where this train would take you, when it would take you. 

Suddenly, the car slowed to a gradual stop and the doors opened. You wanted to stay on, maybe pass by hundreds of stops until you actually got off the train but you heard footsteps passing by the station. 

Something in the back of your mind told you to get off at this stop, that you would find something important. 

You stood and slipped through the doors. As soon as you turned your head to scan your surroundings, that’s when you saw him. 

How could he have gotten here before you? 

Five was casually walking towards a set of stairs when he saw you and stopped in his tracks. 

You glared and felt a flame arise in you as you stomped over to him. 

“I told you to leave me alone, Five. What the hell are you doing here?” you pointed an angry, accusatory finger in his face but he just grabbed your hand and gently held it in his. 

You were confused, he seemed different. Less guilty. More sentimental. 

Your anger faltered as he stared into your eyes with an admiration you were already starting to miss. 

“y/n,” he said sincerely, “it’s been so long.” 

Of course he wasn’t your Five. You had just jumped onto a multi-dimensional subway for Christ’s sake. 

“Come on, follow me,” he said as guided you towards a stairwell. 

As you descended and turned a corner, warm glowing lights filled your sight. A warming, comforting sense of nostalgia flooded your senses. You looked up and read the lights on the sign, Max’s Delicatessen, as the Five you stumbled across led you inside. The sound of a familiar vintage tune filled your ears. 

Immediately, you felt all eyes travel to your frame. Every single pupil in this room belonged to a Five. The man you never wanted to see again. Each one of them looked at you with a shocked and astounded expression.

 The Five still holding your hand paid no attention and directed you into a booth seat. 

As you sat down, you took in your surroundings. The Fives behind the counter preparing food, the Fives taking orders, the Five delivering food, the Fives whispering at tables. 

There were so many of them, what was this place?

The Five sitting across from you looks in your eyes with a knowing look.

“It’s not often we get one of you around here.” 

You shake out of your confused thoughts and reply, “And what exactly is this place?” 

Before you can get a reply, a waiter Five comes up to the table and places two mugs of coffee in front of you and Five. Before he leaves, he places a couple cups of creamer and packets of sugar next to your mug. 

Without answering your question, the Five in front of you smiles and says, “We keep those in the kitchen and not on the tables since it’s really rare to see you.” 

You give him an annoyed look. 

“Can you explain to me what’s going on?” 

“Right,” he sat up a little straighter and took a sip of his coffee. “You hopped on a subway that took you to an alternate timeline. That timeline just so happens to hold a place where us Fives come after we’ve stopped trying to fix the problem.” He largely gestured to the room full of alternate versions of your husband. Ex husband. 

You stared at him for a few seconds, your brain rattled with questions, before you spoke. 

“Stopped trying? You mean trying to save the world?” 

“Stopped trying to fix the broken timeline,” he replied matter-of-factly. 

“The broken timeline?” you repeated in confusion. 

“There’s only supposed to be one, and I’ll bet you can guess who shattered the original timeline.” 

Before you could reply, you heard a bell as another Five yelled out, “We did.” 

Five made a disapproving yet knowing face as he called back, “Why you always gotta wreck shit, Brisket Five?” 

Brisket Five shrugged at him then winked at you before returning back to his work. 

“Okay . .” you started, trying to come up with the right questions, “So, our existence is the cause of the broken timeline. Is that why there’s constantly an apocalypse?” 

“Precisely,” Five responds, before gesturing to the framed pictures on the wall. “By the way, check out the artwork. All the different ways we made our universe go kaboom.” 

You stare at the photographs on the wall, noticing both familiar doomsday and entirely unique ones. Once your eyes reach a certain point along the wall you notice some framed images of you. Different photos of you and Five, living your lives together throughout the timelines. 

The Five across from you notices your curious glimpse. 

“I mentioned we don’t often see you around here,” he explains. “It’s because it’s rare that you survive your timeline.” 

You quickly turned back to him in response to his statement. You don’t survive? How many of the Fives in this room have lost their y/n? Has the Five in front of you lost his? 

“What do you mean?” 

“You and I will always meet, in every timeline throughout the universe. It just seems that fate doesn’t always take our side,” he says solemnly as he looks down at his mug. 

A Five piped up from the booth behind you, “My y/n was killed by the Swedes back in Dallas.” 

Another from a couple tables away said, “Mine died in the apocalypse, but we had a good thirty years together.” 

The Five in front of you looked up at you and said, “In my timeline, the Handler shot you and you died in my arms. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” 

He gave you such a genuine look. Like he’s felt shame and guilt for so long, his apology was heartbreaking. How could these Fives care so much about you, while your Five forgot all about you. 

“It’s okay,” you looked at him truthfully and took his hand in your, “I’m sure none of your y/ns would ever blame you for their fate, but they would for giving up. They’d want you to keep going, stay strong and do what it takes to save your family and the world. That’s what they loved most about you.” 

You felt bad placing blame on him but you didn’t understand how the man who has spent his whole life prioritizing the safety of his family and overcoming countless obstacles and stopping at nothing to save his family could just give up. Sure it was tiring, but that was the life the two of you lived, together. 

He smiled at you so lovingly it crumbled your heart. 

“Y/n, the doomsdays will never stop coming. The only way to end this constant cycle of saving and destroying the world is if our family ceases to exist.” 

Your heart slowed its beating as you stared at your interlocked hands, contemplating. 

You hated to admit it but he made sense. Whenever your family is all together, everything goes to shit. People always die and the world will always end. 

Before you could respond, you heard the door swing open and a tense tone fell over the deli. 

The Five across from you held your hands a bit tighter as he glanced up at the Five that had rushed in.

Your Five. 

☕︎

part two.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

By Wednesday afternoon the whole of Hawkins High had exactly one piece of gossip on their minds.

You and Eddie Munson. Specifically you and Eddie Munson appearing hand in hand that morning, much to the shock and in Jason's case worst nightmare.

No one had to know that the little show you were putting on was fake...

It had been your idea to approach Eddie and casually bring up the subject of fake dating. Because why not piss off a mutual enemy? You knew Eddie couldn't stand Jason and vice versa.

Plus it might be the little bit of vengeance you had been waiting to exact on Jason for months now; ever since he had tried to get you to date him.

When you refused he took great delight in humiliating you. After months of bidding your time you figured out the perfect way to get back at the asshole.

Naturally Eddie was suspicious when you approached him. Not that you could blame him. It's not like the two of you ever interacted. You weren't super popular or anything but you were friends with Chrissy and Jackson.

So yeah, you totally understood why he was hesitant to talk but he quickly came round to your way of thinking.

"I like the way you think sweetheart and anything that pisses Carver off is good in my book. What are the rules though? Like kissing and shit like that?" you nod and count the rules.

"Kissing is okay, I mean it has to be believable. Holding hands, hugs. I swear he watches me like a creep all the time and since I turned him down he's been even more of an asshole, maybe if he thinks I'm seeing someone, especially his enemy he will leave me alone" Eddie frowns then his eyes light up with mischief.

"Well that's even more of an excuse to piss him off. I'm in sweetheart" the two of you shake hands and you smirk.

"Pleasure doing business with you Munson"

...

From the minute that the two of you started introducing your "relationship" to the world it caused an uproar in the high school gossip chain.

Jason as expected was fuming and Eddie found it hilarious. He made a show of fawning over you and calling you "milady", doing sweet gestures (kissing your hand and calling you princess was one of your favourites)

He was hilarious, snarky and sarcastic and you actually liked spending time with him.

Your first kiss with Eddie is meant to be something that's quick and done just to advance your "relationship" but the minute Eddie's lips met yours it was intense and passionate, honestly it blew your mind a little bit.

It's not like you didn't notice how handsome Eddie was. He was gorgeous. Even some of the girls who ridiculed him and called him a freak mentioned how hot he was. So it's not like you were blind to his charms. His goofy, overdramatic and passionate gestures never failed to hold your attention.

The two of you were having fun and yeah you liked spending time together but that's all it was. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

...

It was a rowdy lunch at Hellfire Club as usual, you were perched on Eddie's knee and listening to the chatter while ignoring Jason's glare in your direction.

Thankfully he seemed to be leaving you alone...at least for now. Who knew how long that would last? The current conversation takes your mind off Jason and you focus on that.

"Don't you two ever get mixed up sometimes? I mean the two of you get pretty close all day?" Gareth asks curiously. Eddie shrugs and you find yourself feeling sick with anticipation for his answer.

"It's just fake. It's not as if we have real feelings for each other or anything" Eddie waves off Gareth's concerns and something inside you breaks.

Of course that's how he felt. It was like a cold dose of reality and boy did it hurt. It was so easy to lose yourself in this, for the lines of fake and reality to blur.

Faking a smile you nod along and then bury your head in Eddie's chest, he probably thinks you're doing this to annoy Jason but it's so he doesn't see your tears.

You were so stupid for falling for Eddie when all of this didn't mean anything to him.

...

Yes I will be expanding on this if people want that 🥰❤️

[darlingofdots]

What is a romance novel, really?

So far, the response to this post has mostly shown me that a lot of people don't actually know what a romance novel is, and that's okay! I don't expect everyone to know! However, for my own peace of mind, I am going to do my best to explain what we mean when we talk about romance novels, where the genre comes from, and why you should not dismiss the pastel cartoon covers that are taking over the display tables at your nearest chain bookshop. Two disclaimers up front: I've been reading romance novels since I was a teenager, and have dedicated the majority of my academic career to them. I'm currently working on my PhD and have presented/published several papers about the genre; I know what I'm talking about! Secondly, all genres are fake. They're made up. But we use these terms and definitions in order to describe what we see and that's a very important part of science, including literary studies!

The most widely used definition of "romance novel" to this day is from Pamela Regis' 2003 A Natural History of the Romance Novel, in which she states that "A romance novel is a work of prose fiction that tells the story of the courtship and betrothal of one or more [protagonists]."* People also refer to the Romance Writers of America's "a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending" and another term you will see a lot is "Happily Ever After/Happy For Now," which posits that the protagonists must be in a committed and happy relationship at the end of the novel in order to count as a romance novel. That's it. That's what a romance novel is.

Of course it's a bit more complex than that; Regis also posited the Eight Essential Elements which describe the progression of the love plot over the course of the book, and there's a similar breakdown from Gwen Hayes in Romancing the Beat that is intended more as writing advice, but both of these are really useful for breaking down how this narrative structure works. My personal favourite part of the Eight Elements is that the romance opens with a definition of the society in which the protagonists exist, which is flawed in a way that oppresses them, and then the protagonists either overcome or fix it in a way that enables them to achieve their HEA. A lot of social commentary can happen this way!

It can also be a bit difficult to pin down what exactly counts as a "central love story" because who decides? A lot of stories have romance arcs in them, including dudebro action movies and noir mystery novels, but you would never argue that the romance is the central plot. A lot of romance novels have external plots like solving a mystery or saving the bakery. A useful question to ask in this case is whether the external plot exists for its own sake or to facilitate the romance: when Lydia runs off with Wickham in Pride & Prejudice, it's so that Lizzie can find out how much Darcy contributed to saving her family from scandal and realise her own feelings for him. The alien abduction in Ice Planet Barbarians happens specifically so the abducted human women can meet and fall in love with the hunky aliens. There are definitely grey areas here! Romance scholars argue about this all the time!

I have a suspicion that a lot of people who responded to the post I linked above are not actually romance readers, which is fine, but it really shows the lack of understanding of what a romance novel is. I have a secondary suspicion that the way we have been talking about books has contributed to this miscategorisation in a lot of people's minds, because especially with queer books we will often specifically point out that this fantasy book is f/f! This dystopian novel has a gay love story! This puts an emphasis on the romance elements that are present in a book when a lot of the time, the romance arc is just flavouring for the adventure/uprising/heist and we are pointing it out only because its queerness makes it stand out against other non-queer titles. It makes sense why we do this, but there is SUCH a difference between "a sci-fi book with an f/f romance arc" and "an f/f sci-fi romance." I could talk for hours about how the romance genre has evolved alongside and often in the same way as fanfiction and how there are codes and tropes that come up again and again that are immediately recognisable to romance readers, even down to phrases and cover design, and how romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre that functions in a very specific way because of that evolutionary process. The same way that dedicated fantasy readers can trace the genealogy of a given text's influences ("this writer definitely plays a lot of DnD which has its roots in the popularity of Tolkien, but they're deliberately subverting these tropes to critique the gender essentialism"), romance readers are often very aware of the building blocks and components of their books. These building blocks (that's what tropes are, lego pieces you put together to create a story!) often show up in other genres as well, especially as part of romantic arcs, but that doesn't make every book that features Only One Bed a romance novel, you know?

Romance is an incredibly versatile and diverse genre and I really highly recommend exploring it for yourself if you haven't. I personally read mostly Regency/Victorian historicals and I've been branching out into specifically f/f contemporaries, and there are so many authors who are using the romance framework to tell beautiful, hard-hitting stories about love and family while grappling with issues of discrimination, disability, mental health, capitalism, you name it. The genre has a very specific image in a lot of people's minds which makes them resistant to it and it's not entirely unjustified, but there is so much more to it than Bridgerton and repackaged Star Wars fanfiction!**

*the original text said "heroines" but Regis later revised this. There is a very good reason for the focus on the heroine in the first couple waves of romance scholarship, but that's a different post!

**neither of these are a bad thing and part of that genealogy that I mentioned earlier.

[spacebagfullofstars]

Honda Oddysey Scene but in Evolution

This is a snippet of my X Men Evolution Deadpool AU that's been on my mind lately. Inspired by the most talked about scene in Deadpool and Wolverine

It was hard to tell when exactly the night rolled around. It was still dawn when they arrived in San Francisco and they haven't left their beaten up meat truck since.

Wolverine was still driving without any kind of direction. His mask was on, but his frown was visible through it. Deadpool, driving shot gun, seemed to had completely dissociated himself from his surroundings. He was switching between radio stations and trying to find the right music. The mutant, unfortunately, had to suffer through each song whenever the other man changed his mind. Currently, they were listening to Cher's 'If I Could Turn Back Time'.

A few seconds passed. Another switch, they were listening to 'War' by Edwin Starr.

Another few seconds. 'Shake your Groove Thing' by Peaches and Herb.

Another few seconds. 'Sugar, Sugar' by the Archies.

Before another few seconds passed, Wolverine reached out and turned off the radio, momentarily returning his attention on the road. The lack of eye contact and how quickly it happened made it come off as passive-aggresive.

"I was listening to that." Deadpool said, in all his audacity. Logan didn't give him the luxury of response. The mercenary tried to focus on the window, but without the background noise, his need to open his mouth grew stronger.

"I was going to give you half of the cut, you know." He said after a second, looking at Wolverine, who still refused to give him time of a day. "I'd never make it not worth your time. Think whatever you want of me, I treat my business partners with respect."

"You lied to me." Logan suddenly growled. Somehow, he sounded even more angry than usual.

"Strike two, ferret man." Deadpool said, making a peace sign at him. "I said that I needed your help, and I said that the old Hydra base could be of interest to you. Not my fault they didn't have any info on your past. That didn't count as lying, I just didn't tell the whole truth."

The mutant snarled, making Deadpool jump. He saw him gripping the wheel, which he was sure would leave a few dents. Not that he planned on returning the vehicle at that point.

"What? Tell me honestly, would you help me if I came up to you and said: 'Hey, Wolvie! Some rich weirdo paid me to go and steal something from this place that looks like a horror rip-off of Area 51! Also, did I mention that this place is full of freaky water tanks? Also also, did you know that apparently, our healing factor isn't immune to drowning?'"

"Would've been nice knowin' that before you waltzed right into a trap." Logan retorted through gritted teeth.

"You've had your healing factor longer than I have." Wade said, leaning against his seat and crossing his arms. "That one's just on you."

And just like that, Wolverine's buttons were pushed. Without any warning, he made a sharp turn. Deadpool regretted not tightening his seatbelt when he had the chance as he crashed onto the door next to his seat. The truck fell off the road and down the hill. It was far from a pleasant experience, but thankfully, it survived to tell the tale. It landed on a beach right under their road. It was empty, so the mutant parked on its sand.

As soon as the vehicle stopped, he swung and punched Wade in the face. The mercenary screamed, hiding it in his hands. He was lucky that he wore his red mask because he was pretty sure Logan broke his nose.

"Dude-!" Wade shouted. Before he fully recovered, he felt a strong grip on his neck. Now that Logan wasn't focusing on the road, all of his rage was directed at him.

"You want an apology? Fine, I'm sorry!" The mercenary managed, holding onto the hand crushing his neck. "If I knew you'd be so mad, I'd ask that brute Sabertooth to come! But I didn't, because I like you more!"

Logan roared as he slammed him against the back of the seat.

"You lied to me! You wasted my time! And because of you, we're bein' hunted down like animals!" The mutant's voice was barely there with all those grunts.

"I didn't lie!-"

"Yes, you did! You used my lost memories against me! You knew how much it meant to me to regain them and you still manipulated me into doin' your dirty work! You used me as a weapon, just like everyone else!"

"... Oh, boo-freaking-hoo!" Deadpool frowned, growing more defensive. That shift caught Wolverine off guard. "Little Wolverine can't remember his first day in new school! Guess what, jerk, I don't remember much after my experimentation either! But I don't let that hold me back! Here are some hard pills to swallow: You're so desperate to know your past that you let me of all people make a monkey out of you! Me! Keep trusting the wrong guys and soon you won't even have a future to look forward to!"

After he finished, he looked back at Wolverine. He was staring at him with this empty look that freaked him out even more than the angry snarl. Suddenly, he let him go and Wade fell back on his seat. He coughed and massaged his neck.

"Look, Wolv. I'm sorry." He tried, because he couldn't handle seeing him like this anymore. "Really, I am. But take it from me, maybe it's better to just forget... No hard feelings?..."

He didn't know yet that he said too much. Wolverine was silent for a few more moments. Then, he wheezed. The mutant threw his back against the seat, and running his hand up his scalp, he succumbed to his laughter. It wasn't a pleasant sound at all. It was strained, almost hysterical, and obviously provoked more by his fury than actual amusement. Still, it was the first time Deadpool actually made him laugh.

"Oh wow!... " The mercenary said through his nervous chuckle that was muted by Wolverine. "So that's how you laugh! Just as terrifying as the rest of you!... I didn't say any joke yet, though."

"You didn't have to." Logan sighed deeply, partially regaining his posture. The next look he gave Wade was entirely venomous.

"You are the biggest joke I've ever seen! There hasn't been as much of an audacious, or insecure, or callous stain on humanity than this manchild I have the displeasure of sittin' right next to! You're good for nothin' but spreadin' mysery everywhere you go! You ain't got no morals, no friends, and you make it everyone's problem, 'cause you can't ever accept the fact that your actions have consequences!" Logan paused to catch his breath. Deadpool visibly shrinked in his own seat. Suddenly, the mutant's claws came out and he shoved them to the back of the truck, scraping its surface in a long line.

"Oh, how I wish I pushed you off that cliff first time we've met! Maybe that would've gotten the message through your dense skull, just how much I want to see you set on fire! Hate doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feelin' towards you! Ain't no wonder why that blue woman you keep yappin' about hasn't come back to you yet! You have to make up an imaginary girlfriend to protect your delicate feelin's from the fact that nobody will ever want you! How 'bout this hard pill to swallow: The doctors that tortured you didn't ruin your life! You did! You have to act like an obnoxious clown, otherwise no one would ever give you the attention you're so obviously cravin'! I can't wait for the day when you'll wake up and realise that you'll be spendin' the rest of eternity alone, and you can thank only yourself for that! But that's just wishful thinkin', 'cause you're-" His claws pulled back and he slammed his fist against the marked metal.

"-too-" Slam!

"-stupid-" Slam!

"-to think of anythin' outside of your own bubble of insanity!" SLAM! The wall bended and partially fell apart, just enough for them to see the inside of their cargo.

At long last came the silence. Logan used his hand to support himself from collapsing. He panted and bared his teeth at the mercenary who grew concerningly quiet. Not for Logan, though.

"No more jokes, bub?" He leaned closer and sneered, not being able to resist one last jab. "Come on, give me a real tear-jerker. I'm feelin' like laughin' for a change."

He looked directly into Deadpool's eyes. All he saw in them were two empty voids. The mutant settled back on his seat and tried to catch his breath. A second later and he would've regretted some of the things he said.

"... Take it back." Deadpool murmured softly. Had it not been for Wolverine's super hearing, he would've missed it.

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" The mutant snorted loudly. It was his own enjoyment of seeing the mercenary be put in his place that led him to lower his guard. Before he knew, Wade grabbed the back of his head, painfully gripping a handful of hair and hood.

"I said take it back!" He roared with the anger he never let anyone see. Without any warning, he slammed Wolverine's head against the front of the car. Then he did it again and on his third time he accidentally turned on the radio.

'Why Can't We Be Friends?' by War started playing.

Slam!

'Express Yourself' by Madonna.

Slam!

'You're the One That I Want' from the musical Grease.

"Why you little-!" Wolverine wouldn't take it any longer. He grabbed onto whatever he could and prevented Deadpool from slamming his head again. He pulled out his claws and jammed them into the other's right shoulder. Wade cried out. Using the moment of distraction, the mutant freed himself. Then, he grabbed Wade's head, pulled him close, and then slammed his head against the radio. This time it played 'Don't Go Breaking My Heart' by Elton John and Kiki Dee.

Despite being a taller man, Deadpool had to trouble slipping into a different position in his limited space. He kicked Logan onto the door, breaking the window and leaving a huge dent. The mutant growled, glaring back at him with pure fire in his eyes. Deadpool tried to throw a hit, but Logan caught his fist and then repeatedly punched him in the face. Wade dodged and a hit full of claws meant for him punctured the already beat down back of the truck.

The mercenary used this for his advantage. He managed to grab Logan by the shoulders and then threw him in order to take down the rest of the space separating them from the cargo. They both fell into the cold, smelly abyss where they could barely see each other. Not that it would stop them.

[imagineitdearies]

Hey I loved loved loved your fanfiction as I’m sure everyone here did but now I, going through withdrawals I can’t find anything similar or as good as yours. So I’m curious what your favourite bg3 fanfiction are?

Hey there!! Awww, thank you ☺️ I sort of got super focused on writing PS for a while there, so I can't say I know of all The GreatsTM in this fandom. I will share what I have enjoyed/am currently reading though (almost all of it involving Astarion), but anyone else should feel free to add your favs in the comments!!

As always, please check tags and read at your own discretion!

Finished ones I've enjoyed:

Seducere by Tlon ~ Astarion/nb!Tav ~ Astarion doesn’t need a reflection to know himself – two hundred years of servitude has shown him exactly what he’s good for. Odd that his new partner seems to disagree.

Nothing is safe by foxflowering ~ Wyll/Astarion ~ "Wyll's the sort of prince-type I would have once dreamed of marrying. When I was about thirteen."

Carving through the dark by skitter ~ Astarion/f!Tav ~ Wren and Astarion descend into the Underdark in search of a new purpose, and learn a few things along the way. Namely, that healing isn't linear and sometimes love takes the long way round.

Astarion Origin Party Nonsense by starkraving ~ Astarion/Karlach; Astarion/Cazador, sort of Astarion/Wyll? ~ A collection of things that ostensibly happen in the same little mental universe. Loosely based on the events of an Origin Astarion run and the various questions it inspired. (All but one in the series is finished so I'm counting it, lol!)

All Our Missing Parts by Viraaja ~ Astarion/Halsin ~ Halsin discovers Astarion was turned before his maturity and all the sacred elven rites that come along with it. Including the sex one.

Friday Nights by SadinaSaphrite ~ Astarion/Gale ~ Professor Gale Dakarios loses his research, his magic, and his lover Mystra all at once and only has himself to blame. When he goes to drown his sorrows, he meets a pale stranger with mysteries of his own.

visions of your love by LargeOctahedron, notyournoise ~ Shadowheart/f!Tav ~ Shadowheart is tired of doubting - of feeling her heart twist whenever she looks at Tav without knowing whether they feel the same. One night, tired of sitting and hoping Tav will approach, she tries to read their mind, only to find them in a rather compromising position.

WIPs I'm following:

Palmarosa by thespectaclesofthor ~ Astarion/Raphael ~ Astarion is stuck in the darkness once more, yearning for sunlight with every fibre of his being, while bitterly reflecting on all the things that were denied to him. Raphael knows Astarion's desperate, and comes to him with not one, but two horrid contract offers that Astarion loathes and dreads in equal measure - but the prize at the end of both are too good to turn down.

To Defy the Gods by ~ Shadowheart/Tav ~ Dark Justiciar. Mother Superior. Shar's Voice Made Flesh. Her Chosen. Shadowheart had emptied her heart of falsehoods, of the illusion of life and love, and accepted the inevitability of loss. Almost.

A Dog's Retreat by ~ Halsin & Astarion, past Astarion/Cazador ~ For most, it was just the end of the Absolute. For Astarion, it was the end of two hundred years of agony. And the transition is steep and slippery. Now, all he can do is hope that there are enough pieces of him left for him to pick up and somehow put back together. Too bad hope has never been Astarion’s poison of choice.

A Warm House, A Ruddy Fire by DepravedJJJSchmidt ~ trans!Astarion/Cazador, trans!Astarion/m!Tav ~ Mr. and Mrs. Cazador Szarr have an ideal marriage. Astarion doesn't know if he will be able to survive another year of it. (And I don't know if I'll survive another chapter tbh, but like a burning building I can't look away 😬)

Alright, that's all I can think of! I'm a bit distracted all over again thanks to the original novel I'm working on now, but hopefully you find something new on this list you end up enjoying 🩵 this fandom is full of so many talented people!!

[cranberrymoons]

.

[talaricula]

So much of fiction and of people's reactions to it makes it so obvious that most people think of cancer only as a tragic backstory to add ~flavour~ to a character and not as something that happens to people, extremely sucks to go through and has extremely long-term repercussions for everyone involved. It's almost always either a character who had cancer themself but it doesn't impact them at all anymore or, more frequently, a character whose loved one had cancer and died or is in the process of dying, both of which are used to kick-start or influence their own story arc and then the person who had/has cancer only serves as Inspiration TM, a source of Trauma TM or a source of Conflict TM.

And that wouldn't be that much of a problem if it didn't Very Obviously impact the attitudes towards cancer patients/survivors and their loved ones of ppl who've never been directly confronted with it, and didn't mean said cancer patients/survivors and their loved ones needed to do So Much unlearning about these attitudes when it happens to them

[thetruearchmagos]

@theprissythumbelina

By the way, if you're thinking that post-'Clique' Nouvoloian colonialism is bad, some of the ideas I've had in mind for the People's Republic of Griffmark in Terror Immortal (Gustav's second WIP) make them look downright pleasant.

After all, barely any chemical weapons get used in Pasiphae!

[unforth]

I'm an OTW member again!

THANK YOU @petralemaitre !

If y'all want to get a membership scholarship before June 30th so you can register and be able to vote in the next OTW election, get all the deets here:

(the post is worth reading even if you don't want the scholarship; it's about End OTW Racism and it's such an accurate write-up of my own thoughts on why I'm involved too, I was like, "wow sharing a brain with a total stranger is so heckin' weird")

Very much lookin' forward to exercising my right to vote! Let's dooooo this!

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

WIP Wednesday

So okay I don't know if this is like...a cool thing to do or not, but there's a fic I claimed from the 2022 kink meme list (I couldn't resist, in large part because Tales From Jianghu Shopping Center was listed by the prompter as one of their inspirations for the prompt) that I'm not sure when I'll actually finish writing but I have started it and I'd like to at least acknowledge that I'm doing it even if the prompter won't see this. But the prompt is something along the lines of anything highly specific and niche (like my strip mall AU lol), and I actually happen to have a growing little stockpile of very very niche knowledge about my chosen professional field, which is ceramics! I specialize in wheel-throwing (though I'm also a...passable hand at plaster mold-making/slip casting and handbuilding, I just don't enjoy them nearly as much) so I've started a little something from Lan Wangji's point of view that's a love letter to throwing ♥

--//--

As is tradition, Lan Wangji works in porcelain.

The Lan family have been respected masters of porcelain for centuries, generations stretching back, back, back nearly to the beginning of the imperial kiln production in Jingdezhen. They once produced the enormous pots that adorned emperors’ palaces – there are (very distant) cousins of his in Jingdezhen who still do so for wealthy patrons.

It’s easy to forget such a background when he enters his personal studio on the other side of the world and flicks on the lights to begin the day’s routines. It’s precisely what he wants – a quiet life like this, simple and unassuming, is much more suited to his desire than the weight of tradition that could otherwise press him and his work down into something he would never want to be.

Not that he deviates very far from tradition anyway, but it’s the principle of the thing. Lan Wangji takes quiet pleasure in simplicity, in function that is beautiful in its hard-won mastery. There are very few non-traditional ways to accomplish this that he’s interested in, but he likes having the option should he want to take it. 

Lan Wangji had learned to throw at his uncle’s knee as soon as it was possible to do so. He has continued to do so since childhood with a single-mindedness that once surprised even his uncle. All he’d ever wanted to do was to sit at the wheel for hours and hours on end, only pausing to warm the water in his bowl with a fresh influx from the kettle and to transfer full wareboards (once he was strong enough) to the drying racks in the corner of his uncle’s studio.

Lan Wangji has always struggled to find the words to convey how integral the motion of the wheel and the smooth slip of clay through his finger and against his palms is to feeling like he fits into his skin properly, but his family seems to understand just the same.

Yesterday, as the sun was westering, Lan Wangji had weighed up a few bags of fresh porcelain. The lumps are waiting for him now, tumbled together under their protective sheets of plastic, ready to be molded and shaped by hands and hypnotic motion. There’s enough of a chill in the studio this time of year that there isn’t any condensation on the plastic when he lifts it, so he folds it away neatly and settles into the easy rhythm of wedging his clay to prepare it for the wheel.

There is, in the middle of the studio, a sturdy butcher’s block workbench. He built it himself right there in the studio, the first piece of furniture that had filled the space even before he’d purchased his Shimpo wheel. It’s very likely too heavy to lift – it’s certainly too big to ever get through the door – but he has no intention of ever leaving this studio to begin another, so it suits his purposes just fine.

Wedging the clay on this sturdy, hip-height table is nearly as meditative a process as all the rest of it. A bit more of a workout than sitting at the wheel, but it’s a good way to warm up in the morning, his muscles well accustomed to the push-turn-push-turn-push-turn of spiral wedging that it’s gone beyond second nature, it simply is. His mind wanders pleasantly as he watches the misshapen lumps of pure porcelain become smooth and rounded beneath his palms. Perhaps he’ll spend the day on bowls. They’re quick and simple, suited to his mood today, and he’ll have plenty of them done by lunch when he already knows his typical solitary routine will be interrupted (and can therefore plan for it so far in advance). 

The sun is up properly by the time Lan Wangji finishes his wedging, and once he’s transferred the first batch of prepared clay to the wheel he pauses to stand in the open doorway and look out over the garden that sits between his studio and his home. The grass and the flowers are glittering fresh and dewy in the sunlight as he rolls his shoulders, stretches out his back in preparation to be seated for long hours.

When he returns, the wheel welcomes him, familiar and comforting. He fills an old bird seed bucket with warm water from the tap and arranges the small mirror at the back of the wheel’s tray to the perfect angle to watch his own hands before he settles in and takes a deep breath, sleeves rolled up and apron cinched comfortably tight around his waist as an unnecessary reminder to keep his back as straight as he can while he works.

The first ball of porcelain hits the perfect bullseye of the wheelhead and Lan Wangji leans in to begin centering, the porcelain buttery soft where it runs under his hands. Porcelain, he knows, is notorious for being difficult to work with, particularly for beginners. This far into his career, it’s simply polite and responsive to each confident press of his palms. He cones it first, hands curled around it to coax it in and up; presses it down again with the flat of his hand, every movement focused on the centerpoint of the wheel gliding silently through magnet-powered rotations. 

Up. 

Down again. 

Up.

Down.

Push.

Press.

Lan Wangji loves every part of the throwing process for what it is, but if he were to have to choose only one, this would be his favorite: the moment he can feel the clay running smoothly, perfectly centered the whole way through and ready to become whatever he will tell it to be, the possibilities – for this moment – endless.

[icharchivist]

All of France have been protesting the most recent laws Macron has been pushing and today i'm seeing a fucking tweet from "Youth with Macron" about how Macron now set up a "Free condoms in pharmacy for people under 25" campaign, which has for slogan, and i kid you not, "Make love, not protest :)" i'm going to yell i'm going to yell i'M GOING TO YELL MACRON YOUR PEOPLE WANT TO KILL YOU MACRON THEY'RE SINGING ABOUT BEHEADING YOU WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

[army-of-bee-assassins]

you know i mostly really like my grad program and everything but i have very quickly learned not to ask too much about vision and hearing loss bc it turns out most of the faculty here know very little about those things. they know a little bit about hearing loss but really only in the sense of "get them fitted with hearing aids/CI as early as possible so they can develop like a hearing child". i really wanna learn more about language development in deaf, blind, and deafblind children because that's the population i specifically wanna work with (and have worked with in the past). and it's just been frustrating having my questions about those populations be met with "uh. i'm really not sure."

most of the faculty have been nice about it, but i have had the misfortune of being assigned an advisor who is borderline hostile about it. the first time i brought up this subject, (back through email when i was still deciding where to go), i was asking about an ASL elective that was offered within the program and whether there were any other electives with related topics. she responded by telling me that this was a masters program in speech language pathology, not ASL. great! you could've just said "no." the second time it came up was a few weeks ago when i talked to her about maybe doing a masters thesis (i won't be doing one, by the way). i said that if i were to do one, it would be about deafness, blindness, and/or deafblindness, and she said something like, "that's not a subject that's typically studied or taught in a CSD curriculum". as if it's just crazy that i as a CSD student would want to learn about something as esoteric as fucking vision and hearing loss! what a marvel!! not like those two senses have fucking anything to do with communication huh??? not like children who are deafblind face significant barriers in their development of language, the effects of which i have personally seen in numerous individuals??? clearly i'm really the crazy one here

[izzy-b-hands]

Izzy Hands cosplay is far from perfect (my grey hairs are still too few and don't show well, and I need actual leathers someday that eventually I'm gonna be able to save for dang it) but! It is v comfy and it's nice to dress up for the holiday

Bonus Izzy pumpkin that Housemate helped me carve bc they Get It re: characters that live in your bones after the first time you see them and when something frustrating/sad/etc happens to them. They helped get the lil tattoo looking much better!

[alteredphoenix]

A fic in which Tatsuki is invited to Ichigo and Orihime's wedding post-canon and just. Takes it all in. At what could've been, imagining herself in Ichigo's place. But such is life, and she's not going to get in the way of things. Princesses always go for the knight, never the dragon. So it goes.

After a while she leaves the venue. Chizuru's out there, and under all that clownery she can tell something's up; she's not quite the fool she paints herself out to be. They shoot the breeze as the night wheels high overhead. No one's noticed they've left. Ichigo and Orihime haven't noticed (the guys, however, might have - Chad and Keigo and Mizuiro, all quiet glances and subtle, gentle words with hidden meanings).

The night is young. There's a bar down the street that's open 24/7 that always has baseball games running on the wireless TV sets - the one with the pool tables and poker machines. The wet bar isn't anywhere near fancy as the ones the hall's serving, but they're delectable and succulent in their own way. Chizuru suggest they go there, unwind (doesn't say, merely shows in the way the streetlights glint off her glasses, it's to help Tatsuki get her mind off the wedding, and all the possibilities that could have been).

It doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Not a bad idea, at all. Tatsuki agrees and goes with her.

[noxtivagus]

happy weekend ! 🤍 ( technically pulled an all-nighter but i have newfound energy for some reason ) 🥹