#im going to enjoy my life and there is no tragedy in joy so my life is not the tragedy i think it will be

[anxieteaspooks]

you are not the tragedy you think you are

[grendelsmilf]

as someone who went from a "good student" to a drop out with just a ged and scarce community college creds to my name, i really appreciate the insight and empathy you shared in your posts about academia. i'm trying to enjoy classic literature and the general joy of learning again- would you have any specific works you'd recommend that were formative for you and your interest in academia?

thank you for saying this! i was just saying to my friend last night that i have such mixed feelings about academic institutions because on one hand, the naive idealistic position that people take when extolling the role of these institutions as pure knowledge production in a vacuum is (unfortunately) a facet of it that i do genuinely enjoy. i love a classroom setting when it reaches its full potential, i love acquiring knowledge and expanding my mind, i love writing essays and exploring new concepts. so unlike an institution such as, say, marriage, where im like “yeah just abolish that shit altogether,” there are aspects of academia and education that i think should be maintained, even as these institutions essentially function as pillars of capitalism.

obviously learning need not only occur in these academic settings, and in fact the obligations and stipulations of academia beyond some kind of abstract, illusory idea of the academy as a purely cerebral experience (such as the overwhelming workload, financial pressures, the evil that is grading, the ideological motivations of the institution, publishing pressures, just generally having bad teachers, etc etc) can suck all the initial joy out of learning any young, bright idealist may have entered the academy with in the first place. i find it really heartening that you want to learn for the sake of learning, and i can definitely point out some of my favorite works of Classic Literature as a jumping off point if that’s what you’re interested in exploring.

obviously i had a pretty unique introduction to shakespeare, because i read my first shakespeare plays at the age of five. i was one of the only people in the modern world to read romeo and juliet without knowing that a) they would die at the end and b) even what the general stipulations of a tragedy are. it was my first introduction to shakespeare, but also my first introduction to drama, to tragedy, to romance. there’s something incredibly special about that formative experience (especially considering that r&j is hardly my favorite shakespeare play today) and i think that most people only find their love for shakespeare much later in life.

for example, im friends with this 40-something japanese woman, who is absolutely brilliant and lovely, and even though she did technically study shakespeare in college, the pedagogical approach her professor took to shakespeare completely ruined the experience for her and she could never understand the work or why it was so appealing to so many. so a couple years ago, i started reading othello with her and we went through it line by line and discussed the nuances of every single world, all the thematic implications and literary allusions and pure drama of it all, and she was hooked, she loved reading it, she finally understood the appeal of shakespeare. we went to go see shakespeare in the park together, and we had a great time discussing the play and the production choices. even though she was eight times the age i was when i first fell in love with shakespeare, she only needed to approach the material with an open mind and a sense of wonder to understand why i love it so much.

as for specific books i’d recommend, that’s difficult because there are simply so many. across different time periods, different cultures, the range of works that are deeply meaningful is so vast. while my focus is shakespeare (and by extension, early modern theater), i otherwise try to read from a diverse array as much as possible. if you’re specifically looking for english literature, i only read middlemarch by george eliot this year, but ive since become obsessed with it; it’s an absolutely incredible novel. i also love villette by charlotte bronte, and wuthering heights by emily. frankenstein by mary shelley is as good as its legacy suggests, but i also recommend reading paradise lost by john milton to better understand it. as for shakespeare, king lear and othello are my favorites, but i think hamlet is still the best place to start. jane austen has some bangers. and in terms of english (language) novels that were specifically formative for me as a child, jane eyre, lolita (technically a modern classic), and alice’s adventures in wonderland & through the looking glass have always stuck with and remained deeply important to me. obviously i can continue to recommend work across different cultures, periods, and languages, but this seems like a pretty solid syllabus for an introductory english class if you ask me!

[scoonsalicious]

Ok, so my brain never shuts off. Like ever. (Oh the joys of being an over thinker). So I’ve been thinking pretty much non-stop about Pocket and her situation.

So going back to Chloe. I know she’s blaming herself for that whole tragedy. But! She did save a girl that night: Birdie. If she hadn’t done what she did, would Birdie have been punished or killed? 🤔 Pocket did save her.

I’m also wondering if we know WHY Chloe was killed? Did they figure out how old she was? Did she refuse to do something? Or screw up? Or was she with a John who just got a little too aggressive? Maybe one of the other asks was right, and Hydra did experiment on her and it went badly…

As for the miscarriage…somehow, based on your answers, I knew this was coming. And it breaks my heart for both her and Bucky. I can see both of their sides too. I think Pocket’s “trash” comment was maybe her way of trying to convince herself that she was fine with it. That she didn’t really want it anyway. But I can also understand Bucky feeling and reacting the way he did too. It’s hard because I’ve never been in that kind of situation. Never experienced such a terrible loss. But you wrote it so well!

You write everything so well. You bring all of the characters to life. And I LOVE that you have backstory that isn’t in the chapters. You just get it. You’re a natural writer. I’m so impressed by your talent. Please never stop writing!

So much love! I’ll just be over here…(im)patiently waiting for the next part(s) to drop…

Oh, Bestie! My brain never shuts off, either! It's always running a million miles an hour, lol.

Pocket did save Birdie! You're 100% right. It's just so hard for her to recognize that when all she's focusing on is her failure. If Birdie hadn't done the coke, she probably would have been punished, and that was what Pocket was focusing on. But, she sees her actions as failure, because they led to a girl's death (however inadvertently; I'm not really sure what she thought she could have done to save Chloe, anyway-- it's just the perpetual 'what if' hanging over her head).

Unfortunately, Chloe wasn't killed for any big Hydra purpose. Hydra is selling women through the Wiggle Room as a funding source. They're doing it straight up to make money to support their other endeavors, and they straight up have no care for what happens to these women once they've been bought-- they just see them as revenue. So, whoever bought Chloe at auction did what he did to her simply because he wanted to, and he felt that he had the right to, because he bought her. It's as simple and sick as that. It ties back to this over-arching subtheme Pocket deals with of men hurting women because they think their wants are greater than a woman's life. She experienced it growing up, she experienced it with Bucky cheating on her, and now she's seeing it here with the trafficking.

Yeah, everyone jumped on the "Pocket is pregnant" bandwagon so quickly, I was not prepared, lol. Which is why I really tried to push poisoning, just to keep everyone guessing. Her "trash" comment was definitely a defensive maneuver, her trying to convince Bucky (and herself) that this didn't bother her, that he, in a way, still didn't have a hold on her. But, she admits that, if she let herself think about it, she would have wanted to have a baby with him. It was something that took them both completely by surprise, and hit them emotionally. Neither one was approaching it from a rational mindset, so things were said that wouldn't have been said if they had taken time to think things through, first. Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm just over here doing the best I can to make this convoluted fantasy from my head make sense on "paper," so it's so rewarding to know people are enjoying reading it as much as I've enjoyed creating it!

<3 Next part(s?) coming soon; I'm home sick with a migraine today, so maybe a little earlier than expected ;)

[eskir]

betrayal aftermath - wanderer

after the first:

not that cynical, most likely hasn't processed the first betrayal

he begins to move on after finding niwa, and they grow their little friendship

while he doesn't have a heart anymore, he can still feel his emotions rise in his chest: joy, happiness, and some unknown feeling that's called sorrow. he doesn't know how to process these feeling however.

at night, if he could cry, he would. he remembers his time with his mother, and recalls how she was so close but distant at the same time.

most likely he requires comfort or assurance from niwa at times, late night talks as well.

they both dwell deeper into who he was, and niwa offers comfort: "you're human if you believe it so," and etc. all of these guide scaramouche on the way to releasing his pain

but then tragedy strikes and as it occurs in front of his face, scaramouche realizes that it really wasn't worth it, having to interact with humans. he realizes that the gods are also not to be believed in.

so metaphorically he tears out his heart, so that he will no longer feel that sorrow in his chest anymore

he might view it as a betrayal because they were friends close, and niwa left. scaramouche also probably doesn't know what the circumstances/doesn't understand them.

after the second:

more cynical, but then he meets the child.

previously, he was a child of the shogun, then a friend to another, but now, he's a parental figure of some sorts.

he wants to live a happy life with his child; he wants this child to have the life he never had. but they both know of the illness.

his before, he feels much more joy. he likens this new experience to the one he had with niwa, but, different somehow. he doesn't know how, but it still makes him feel warm inside.

but the feeling of being warm still has hints of cynicism in it; its just like how a happy feeling could arrive when enjoying time with certain people.

when the child dies, it is a betrayal of sorts. when scaramouche stumbles upon the dead body, it is like all those memories were betrayed because all that happiness is now gone.

he burns the house, to burn all the happy memories. if there are no happy memories, then there is no reason to mourn for a lost friend, their memory was burned away. tears most likely streamed down, but did they really

the third:

cynical, he has gone through many betrayals, and now, was he really deserving of all the happiness? or, no, he learns that this happiness cannot last. like in the 3.3(is it the 3.4?) event where the yokai learns that interacting with mortals is painful, but still worthwhile, scaramouche is somewhat stuck there perhaps.

what point is there to interact and feel happiness if all that is left is pain and sorrow in the end?

he becomes distant to the world, and eventually, distance leads to who he is now. perhaps, with the child, he could ignore the feeling of loss and emptiness inside, but that death was enough.

he walks away, hat tilted over him so he does not have to see anything, but the problem is no one can see him. he blocks out everything, because he has no idea on how to cope with these losses, so he ignores them.

vision:

he goes through the motions of processing these betrayals after(guys i didn't do his story quest yet i know im so sorry king), albeit in private. he opens up to nahida first, as she guides him on how to cope and he learns to let go.

he loves. he learns to love who he was before, and slowly reworks the memories. they are tainted, but he is learning to change, to work past what he hated and loved. he goes out and finds closure, and nahida tells him that its fine if he does not want to confront certain things.

most likely cries to that fact, he's happy that he has a supporter, no matter how much he acts. its not acting really though let's be honest. he's happy, and in that moment, being happy with who he is, that's all that matters.

yeah and that's my headcanons, happy birthday wanderer! luv you and wish you the best for the next year, the entirety of scaranation(wanderernation?) wishes you the best. much love, hugs, and kisses from all of us. <3

[teacherintransition]

Why Do It? It’s Just Gonna End?

Living in the moment …

Why is it so damn hard to get that one down?

Teacher in Transition: Day 718, 1 year, 11 months and 19 days. (Im not really keeping track of the days, that’d be nuts…I used an app on my iPad) Contemplating the other night (?) morning (?) ….whatever, I was sitting outside on the porch about 1:30 am contending with one of my all too frequent insomnia bouts. On this particular instance, I didn’t care; in fact I was enjoying myself. Here out in open, rugged hills surrounding Granbury, Tx.; our current location on our travel nurse adventures, the sky is open and beautiful and less hindered from light pollution than Nacogdoches. No street lights as we live out from town, so the night sky is a glow with stars that are normally obscured. It was awesome and, as is the case, the moment I quit trying to fall asleep, I get sleepy; but I didn’t want to sleep…I was having a blast. I was thinking, “I could do this every night!” That’s when the attack came, from out of nowhere, with vicious ferocity…it was …OLD MAN TALK!

Ive referenced this enemy of joy a few times in my articles, it is evil and once it gets its clutches in you, you can never escape it. Old man talk takes the form of innocent almost passive conversation, chit chat if you will. It will steal the spontaneity and pleasure from your daily existence and bleed the exuberance of living drop by agonizing drop. It’s hard to recognize at first. It takes the form what appears to be empathetic concerns: “did you hear that Bill had a heart attack” or “how’s that arthritis and blood pressure doin” or perhaps it’s the diabolical, “we only have a few good years left!” (Yes, YOU know who you are!) My attack was much more subtle but just as dangerous. As I thought, “I could do this (star gazing …keep up) every night,” came the malignant verbiage of Old Man Talk: “well, you better not enjoy this too much because it might rain one night and you’re only gonna be here three months and you’ll be home under the street lights and what’ll you do when it gets cold and you know car headlights always blind you when you sit out too late and ……….” You see where I’m headed.

There are basically two ways to react to old man talk and, for the ladies, old lady talk. The first way is to acquiesce: pull your jacket over your shoulders and say, “I reckon you’re right Mr. Old Man…I’ll pull my stiff bones up and go to sleep…morning comes early round here you betcha.” If this is your response, go ahead and get your affairs in order and get the burial plot ready because you’ve become Old Man’s newest victim. The other response is to kick Old Man straight in his false teeth and tell him, “get the hell outta here, can’t you see I’m living right now?” Fight the man! The next time you’re debating having dessert, or going to the 9:00 pm movie, or whether you should buy that new guitar, or whether you should travel to Norway … or even enjoy the simple pleasure of looking at the stars live for the pleasure of the moment.

You young’n’s don’t laugh you too can fall victim to this malady. I’ve known many people in their twenties who already saw life through the eyes of an eighty year old. It can take hold anytime a person decides that momentary joys and excitements must take a back seat to being practical and playing it safe. Ugh…who wants that?

I guess I should’ve qualified this earlier on, but I’m not old and don’t plan to be for a long damn time. I’ll resist aches and pains, storms of rain, pandemics that are insane and delays of planes etc. etc.. The weapon of choice to combat the Old Man is simple realization and focus on a few basic truths: we don’t live forever, but we live now; tragedy, though unavoidable, is only temporary; don’t count days because there is no tomorrow…ever, it always becomes today; joy or sadness…it’s your choice. Everybody knows this, but few live it and everyone will realize it by either living for the moment or sitting in a rocker nursing regrets. I’ve taught too few students who instinctively grasped this concept and lived amazing lives. I’ve known far too many adults of various ages who sorrowfully agonized over, “if only I’d spent less time at the office,” or some such. It’s not an easy state of mind to grasp. To master it usually takes some experience with loss, plans that went awry and a dissatisfaction with the way life feels. It doesn’t have to be that way, wise men and women (the mortal enemies of Old Man and Old Lady) have been putting the message out there for centuries…you need only open your eyes. As the Buddha said, “relax, nothing is in control.”

Now, get out there and if you message me at 1:00 am, I’ll be star gazing.

[chunhua-s]

congrats on your milestone event!!! id like to request for kita soulmate!au with angst to fluff genre 👉👈 yknow sumn rejection shit bcs im hopeless like that wehee once again congrats! and i love your writing style :3

anon you’re gonna make me cry 🥺 seriously i’m happy you enjoy my writing and that you think my style’s okay! most of the time i go off of what kind of feelings i get when i’m writing or the imagery that comes up in my head and i’m never sure that it translates well enough for you guys to feel or see the same thing. hopefully as i keep writing then i’ll be able to show you guys what’s on my mind better when i’m writing! thank you again for requesting — seriously, it means a lot! and like always, you guys, don’t be afraid to come and talk to me on and off anon! your interactions mean a lot, especially for content creators! we love hearing what you all think, what you like/dislike about our work, what you think of certain characters — absolutely anything! come and talk with us more whenever you can 💕

writing for kita feels calming somehow. normally the things that come up in my chest or my mind when i write gets nearly overwhelming if that makes sense? like i’ll have to pause and remind myself to breathe because it takes up so much of my attention that i kinda get lost, but with kita, it feels more flowey to me. it’s not demanding but more like a gentle coaxing kind of thing or like looking at the surface of a calm river. i was initially scared to write for him because i was worried i wouldn’t get him right, but i feel satisfied with how this turned out, i think. i hope you guys will find it as calming as i found it too! it might not be exactly what you wanted, but because i had already written the rejection of a person for atsumu’s soulmate oneshot, i wanted to play around with kita’s character and make it instead the rejection of a concept/idea? which would indirectly lead to him... you know, rejecting his soulmate initially, but— ahhhhhh it might make sense to just read it!! these rambles keep getting longer and longer :v i’m sorry for that!! please go ahead and read and tell me what you think in the end! 💕

NOTNING MORE THAN HUMAN ➽ KITA SHINSUKE x READER

genre: angst to fluff

au: soulmate

warnings: none

shinsuke kita is human.

and of course, that much is obvious. he isn’t a machine that’s incapable of feelings and emotions, whose heart is unfamiliar with melodies of an overwhelming joy, or the quiet hymns of deep rooted sadness. his skin still burns under righteous fury and anger, his tongue still weighs heavy under hesitance and silent worries. at the end of every long day, he’s still human.

it’s because he’s human that the words on his collarbone feel so heavy, as if they might cave into the bone and destroy him under their weight. it’s because he’s human that the sight of black markings in the mirror clouds his mind with a new kind of fear and worry. shinsuke kita is human, but he’s long since taught himself how to abandon anxiety and nervousness. he surrounds himself in familiar routines that calm the turbulent voices of doubt, he builds habits that ground him to the earth lest he should be swept away by the current. shinsuke has taught himself not to be afraid for the things that will happen everyday, but meeting his soulmate isn’t one of those things he can prepare for.

it’s a strange concept, he considers to himself. shinsuke doesn’t believe in words like fate or destiny, doesn’t care for the higher powers that should judge his actions. as far as he’s concerned, his own will is what dictates where his life goes — he’s in control, and that’s how it’s always been for him. let the gods watch, if they must, but he’s already decided that he’ll live by what is right, and he wouldn’t dare falter in the face of it. and yet — and it’s such a strange thing for him to do so — he pauses under the notion of a soulmate, of a destined partner who’s supposedly bound to him for as long as he should live. at first, he hadn’t given the idea much thought; it wouldn’t serve any purpose to worry about something that would happen whether or not he wants it, he decided. the truth of it is inevitable, just as the leaves must fall in autumn and the earth should be buried under clouds of white in winter. shinsuke is human — what more can he do but to accept it?

the black words that spread across his skin like droplets of ink became the bitter seeds of doubt that he hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it? the sentence by itself is so bland, like something maybe aran or anyone else might say to him in passing, and at first, it didn’t shake him too much, until he was caught one day under a sudden summer storm. seventeen year old kita somehow found himself stranded beneath a small shelter, where the wooden covering could protect him more than his umbrella until the rain passed. it was nearly unconscious, but he somehow found himself on edge, his breath faltered with the harsh pitter patter of rainfall that tumbled from green leaves and tore ripples from the surface of the lake. shinsuke kita found himself with a stomach full of butterflies and a thundering heartbeat that stole him away from solace and calm, cast the peace that he would so often carry with him away and left him stranded among chopping waves. every trembling breath he took stung on cold air and left him with a burning feeling on his lungs. it’s unfamiliar in its presence and shakes him to his core, but shinsuke kita is reminded of his own humanity when he realizes that what he feels, is anticipation and nervousness.

and it’s an odd thing. as he becomes aware of it, he finds himself twisting his fingers together during spring time; he worries his bottom lip between his teeth during unexpected showers. he feels like a child who stands in line to ride a roller coaster for the first time in his life — wide-eyed and drowning in the millions of feelings that race throughout his body. the feeling itself is nothing new, though it’s unfamiliar and intense in its ferocity and demand, seizes his heart and squeezes so tightly that whenever it rains, he’s left breathless.

it’s almost enough to drive him mad.

his very foundation seems to fall apart with the thunder that rolls across grey skies. for every drop of rain that hits the pavement, he finds himself a jittery mess as his heartbeat tears through his chest. the man who taught himself to abandon his fears reverts into the young boy who watched out for god, for the higher beings who watched his every move. and the thought that comes with every brilliant bolt of lightning burns him just as hotly, invasive and demanding when it flashes through his mind on a single, low whisper:

will you be happy?

shinsuke kita is human. he learns as he sees and lives as he’s learned, and what he saw growing up was that soulmates were bounded together till death do them part. a connection that’s set deep in stone, never to be erased by unforgiving weather and to persevere during the cruelest of storms. it’s an inevitable reality that the gods designed, so that mortals like himself should dance on stage and tell them a story. but shinsuke knows that not all these stories have a happy ending.

there are plays that end in tragedy and loss, those that only knew memories of pain and sang with death’s violin. man becomes the actor to a play that he has no choice in and dances on the puppet master’s strings, he surrenders control and gives himself up to the music, and he has no way of knowing the end of it until the curtains should fall. shinsuke has never been one to lay down his will, and yet, as winter melts once more into gray rain clouds and scattered showers, he’s reminded of his mortality, of the fate that’s been sealed away in the falling of rain. shinsuke kita is human, and so he must, like all men do, bend to fate’s will and never utter a word against her.

and for a long time, the sentiment caused him to completely reject the idea of a soulmate.

that feeling of helplessness that would wash over him with the rain turned into a bitterness that crushed his lungs between tightened fist. the acceptance of an inevitable waltz — whether it be to eternal happiness or to a cruel melody — turned into rebellious loathing that spat in the face of destiny. it’s entirely childish in its tale, like a toddler throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t want to give up his precious toy. that toy is his control, the power he had to live his life by his truth, not by that of a higher being. he’s human, after all, and humans are selfish and resentful by nature.

he finds himself with a heavy chest today, as well, as he waits for the pouring rain to subside. the small shelter in the middle of the garden park is familiar, and carries with it the memories of his epiphany, the one that created thunder storms in his once tranquil heart, and for that, he hates this place. the sound of the rain hitting the roof is like nails scratching against the chalkboard; the sound of droplets hitting the lake like an annoying whining that he can’t get out of his head. shinsuke curses this little pocket away from the world with all the childish anger in the world — let it be damned that doing so wouldn’t change anything. for once, he let himself go on a petty grudge against the universe, and against that looming stage and its heavy curtains.

it’s nearly faint, but he picks up on the patter-patter of footfalls that quickly approach him, and he turns bronze coloured eyes to find your rain-drenched figure running for shelter under the little gazebo. you’re out of breath by the time you make it underneath, letting out an exhausted and frustrated sigh as you press your hands to your knees, and shinsuke finds himself sympathizing with the way you bitterly push your hair from your face. you’re an ordinary office worker, from what he can see; you’ve hidden what looks to be a messenger back beneath your coat, leaving you to tremble in a thin button-up. this day’s downpour had been sudden, unexpected as spring would soon surrender to the approaching summer, and he imagines that he would have been in a similar position as yourself had he not packed his umbrella beforehand.

a silence settles over the both of you that’s only broken by the heavy rain, but the presence of it is so soothing that shinsuke finds himself breathing on a lighter air. suddenly the smell of petrichor turns sweeter, the melody of raindrops melting into a distant lullaby, and for the first time, shinsuke feels his heart melt under an indescribable sense of warmth despite the weather. and when your eyes turn to find his, a helpless grin on your lips, he feels that warmth explode under summer fireworks and coarse throhgh his veins like liquid lightning.

“it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it?”

for the second time in his life, shinsuke has an epiphany under the shelter in the garden.

he feels every bit of resentment vanish on a sudden gust of wind, one that sends raindrops splashing against his skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. not when grey clouds suddenly reveal to him pillars of sunlight that embrace your figure and makes you glow against a background of green leaves. the rain turns into something sweet and enticing, and it suddenly gives shinsuke this unexplainable urge to grab your hand and dance with you underneath the pouring showers, where he can hear your voice ring out on chimes of laughter and innocent bliss. in mere seconds, he manages to let go of the dark clouds that he’d unintentionally harboured on his chest, he let them burst with the weight of anger and childish fury so that they would hit the earth on giant droplets of rain.

shinsuke kita is human — he’s imperfect, mortal. he feels and he thinks and he speaks what’s on his mind. he can hate, and he can love: he can make that decision on whether or not to hold useless grudges and to curse a destiny he can’t change, or to welcome that inevitability with the willingness to learn and grow.

today, as he stands beneath a wooden shelter, hiding from the heavy rains, he decides to stretch his hand out and let the water hit his skin.

davi hits 200 followers — haikyuu!! au writing event! 💕

taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @bootylikepeachy @tsumue

send an ask to be added!

[iceeckos12]

tma fic recs

I’ve seen a couple of fic rec posts floating around. since ive been reading so many excellent fic recently, i thought that id make one as well! please note this list is going to be 99% jonmartin. also buckle up, because this is going to get long.

Completed

the umbrella by Wildehack (tyleet)

"And to think—all of Jonah Magnus’ carefully laid plans, the centuries of scheming, the murders, the sacrifices, all of that work could have been completely undone if Martin Blackwood had gone back for an umbrella" - holdthosebees

Notes: This is probably my go-to fic if i want an apocalypse never happened scenario. The jonmartin is wonderful, as is the h/c.

Diary and Prenon-nous la main by luftballoons99

Diary summary:

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

Prenon-nous la main summary:

They still haven't talked about it, any of it, not even to pass the time on the long train ride to Scotland. Instead, Martin fell asleep in the seat next to him, pressed into his side from shoulder to knee, and Jon thought about love confessions and verb tense and how the two fit together when you think you're dying.

or: Good cows, mediocre poetry, and other crucial topics of discussion.

Notes: Do you love impeccable safehouse jonmartin characterization? do you love characters grappling with the mortifying ordeal of being known? do you love softness so tender that it makes you want to weep? please read these fic. im begging you.

i’ll tell you about all the times i’ve smiled because of you by cryptidkidprem

Summary:

Martin thinks about their shoes, sitting beside each other on the floor by the bed. Thinks of the way Jon wears Martin’s cardigans more often than he wears his own, the way Martin’s started keeping elastics around his wrist because Jon always forgets his own when they go out.

He thinks about all the gentle touches and fussing over each other they’ve done, and how much is still to come over the next… however long Jon will have him.

They have a long way to go, an entire life to build out of the wreckage Jonah Magnus and Peter Lukas left them, but laying together in a comfortable, sleepy quiet, Martin thinks they’ve got a good start going.

Or, Jon quits the Institute, saves the world, and it turns out to be exactly what he needs in order to heal and start moving forward towards building a life with Martin.

Notes: how many times have i reread this fic? more than i can count. jon quits the institute and it’s just full of soft jonmartins. they get married! god i love them.

go softly by doomcountry

Summary:

And there is nothing else besides this.

Notes: every time i remember this fic i reread it. please heed the tags because martin is blinding jon, but he’s like. blinding jon in the most heartbreaking way possible. idk how the author made this so tender but i know i was certainly crying so!

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by  Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

Summary:

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Notes: Do you like time travel fixits? i sure like time travel fixits. reverb is an excellent one. heavy on the h/c, I wanted to hug jon so so badly. 

Yesterday is Here by  CirrusGrey

Summary:

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Notes: Yet another time travel fixit! also excellent. the teasing was HYSTERICAL. also Im just going to say this now - CirrusGrey in general writes incredible tma fic. You can’t really go wrong.

unassigned supplementals by  bibliocratic 

Notes: I won’t put in a summary just because it’s a long series of oneshots, but bibliocratic’s writing is amazing. Again, you can’t really go wrong with one of their fic!

let the soft animal of your body by autoclaves

Summary:

Standing in the warm kitchen, slats of sepia light filtering through onto the counter in front of him, Martin doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He half expects them to go through the countertop entirely, glossy and solid as it is. He isn’t used to any of it, yet. The safehouse. Jon. Beams of sun pouring into his hands. After being deprived of everything of significance for so long, the longing that crashes over him is almost painful in its tangibility. He wants to laugh, to sob, to scream and hear it echoed back against the neat, square walls of the safehouse.

In the end, he doesn’t do any of these things. He makes eggs instead. He can do that, can’t he? Use his hands for something simple and plain and good.

(Or: In the safehouse after it all, Martin starts cooking.)

Notes: this fic really speaks to me a) because i project on martin like crazy and b) because food is also my love language. this fic is incredibly soft and it’s all about cooking!

“Have you tried turning it on and off again?” by shinyopals

Summary:

I hope you find your new role as Head of the Institute as rewarding as captaining the Tundra, wrote Elias Bouchard, to Peter Lukas. There are so many people working there: all with their own interesting lives, and all desiring your attention and support. I'm sure you will relish the challenge it will bring and enjoy every moment spent with the fine men and women of the Institute. In time I'm confident they'll become like a family to you.

The Magnus Institute has a new boss. The Magnus Institute also has a new tech support technician. These two facts are unrelated, except they both happen at the same time.

Meanwhile Jon's woken up from being dead for six months and for once he's trying his best. He just wishes Martin would stop avoiding him and answer his messages...

Notes: if you’re looking for a good laugh, this fic is SO SO SO FUNNY. i was dying. basically the magnus institute being an absolute bureaucratic nightmare.

hello my old heart  by  firebirdsuite

Summary:

Peter’s wrong, of course. When it’s all over, Martin does still want to tell Jon everything. It’s just—well, there’s a few things they need to work through first before they can get there.

Martin and Jon find each other again in Scotland.

Notes: it’s all about the yearning. and trust me, the yearning in this fic? im just. i sure do love jonmartin, and this is such soft, loving jonmartin it just makes you want to cry

two ships passing by pyrites

Summary:

Gerard Keay is 10 years old the very first time he tries to run away from home, right around the time that Jonathan Sims has just come into possession of his first Leitner.

Or: One dropped stone can change the way the whole ocean moves.

Notes: again, JONGERRY. MY GOODNESS. this fic is beautiful, the writing is absolutely breathtaking and it owns my heart. im so in love with it. the author said you’re going to have emotions about jon and gerry and jongerry and i said OKAY

Terminal Sight by viv_is_spooky

Summary:

Spider silk weaves through the visions of two Seers. Monstrosity is dawning on them both.

Notes: I’d never read a gerryoliver fic before this, but the execution is EXCELLENT and now im sold on the ship forever. This fic has wonderful prose and great characterization and i love it a whole lot.

Incomplete

assistant archivist au by  PitViperOfDoom

Notes: I won’t put a summary since I’m reccing an entire series, but. it is absolutely no secret that i adore jongerry. pit’s assistant archivist au slapped me over the head with some gorgeous jongerry oneshots and then gave me the gift of the main fic (which is still in progress) about head archivist martin. i love this au so so much

dustsceawung by  callmearcturus

Summary:

Martin had always been favored by the summer courts, and moving up north to the little village of Lacuna is a difficult adjustment. It's rainy and lonely and everyone seems to have a strange, distant relationship with the local faerie court.

However: there is a strange man in a cloak who walks past Martin's remote little cottage every few days.

However: there is a moth that keeps getting stuck in Martin's house during the rain.

These events are not as disconnected as they first appear.

Notes: you ever just read a fic that you didn’t know that you needed until after you read it? yeah. featuring the fae and moth jon and excellent characterization.

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

Notes: This is also the moment where I reveal that im a sucker for jongerrymartin. please read this fic. gerry is brought back from the dead in s4 and everyone is far better off for it.

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

Summary:

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Notes: this time travel fixit is shaping up to be an absolutely incredible read. i love the way this author writes jon so so much, and the characterization is spot on. this whole fic just satisfies some little part of me. god. also!! bubonickitten’s writing in general? beautiful. please check out their other works.

The Timeline of Theseus by Applea

Jon tries to force the Spiral to send him back, but the Sprial's corridors never twist things quite the way you want them to. Back in 1996, Elias has no idea why or how the Eye made such a powerful Avatar out of an 8 year old, especially when said 8 year old doesn't actually know he has any powers at all. Clearly such a child cannot be left outside the Institute's care. 

Notes: This fic is legitimately brilliant. The author manages to capture the big ADHD mood and the precociousness of baby Jon while managing to write a wonderful storyline. Time travel! Elderly lesbians! A Jonah who is wildly in over his head but was walloped over the head with paternal instinct! Baby Gerry! What more could you possibly ask for?

rooms full of people who do not love each other yet by seaer

Summary:

“Wanted to ask about a book.” The boy has his hand on the counter, and he leans into it, nonchalant. The library is air-conditioned, but by no means frigid, and Jon can’t help but feel sweaty just looking at the layers he’s wearing; what looks like old leather over an olive-green Magnus pullover over his school shirt. “Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Jon says, tetchily, “We’re about to close.”

“I know. Do you have A Journal of the Plague Year?”

Notes: I am so in love with this author’s writing style and the way they write the characters!! The jon and gerry friendship is PERFECT and the character interactions are all darling.

if you read these fics please send the authors some love, they definitely deserve it!! 

[pettyprocrastination]

Dinner for Three

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Valerie Lord x Black!Fem!Reader

OneShot: This is just a non-canon fic! This is basically placed AFTER the timelines of this fic, just a fun little side ficlet surrounding you and the lords after yall get together in celebration of Valentines day!

*If you want to read the rest of the fic so far here's a link to my masterlist where you can find Rip Out Our Seams & Stitch Us Together*

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: profanity, some groping going on and kissing. That's about it! Fluff and talking of self-worth.

Summary: It's Valentine's Day, you decide to treat Valerie to a nice homecooked dinner, Maxwell joins you when he returns home from work.

If the formatting is fucked im sorry tumblr fucked this like three times today im just trying to get it POSTED for you all.

Tag List: @captainsamwlsn @themarcusmoreno @cinewhore @thesadvampire @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @holographic-carmen @honestlystop @thecrimsonsquire @phoenixhalliwell @that-chick212 @phantomnae @goldafterglow

If I forgot to tag you I'm so sorry please let me know!

Notes: BIG thank you to @ficsilike-reblogged who bought me a kofi! I know i was meant to do asomething shorter but i couldn't help myself! Also my usual big thanks for the ever lovely @teaofpeach for editing for me you are an absolute treat my dear ily <3

(i coudn't find any good lasagna gifs the TRAGEDY)

“What in God’s name are you wearing?”

You turned around at the shocked voice to see Valerie standing in the kitchen doorway, red painted lips dropped open.

You grinned and planted your hands on your hips with pride. “My Valentine’s Day outfit! You don’t like it?”

Her face fell flat as she looked you up and down; the main culprit of her disdain was the shirt you wore, buttoned neatly and covered in hearts. “Hon, you look like a cartoon character.”

You wiggled your brows. “A sexy cartoon character?”

“Remind me again why I love you?”

Hearing the word ‘love’ from Valerie Lord would never not send your heart into a frenzy. It had been months since the gala, since they had told you about their feelings with courage brought on my champagne and their own confessions to one another.

They finally had each other, why couldn't they have you as well?

Of course, that didn’t mean there wasn’t a… learning curve. When it came to the relationship, Valerie was bad at sharing her feelings. Sure, she’d say when she didn’t like somebody, or when she thought certain food tasted bad or when Maxwell’s new cologne smelled like rat shit. But she wouldn’t tell you when she was sad, insecure or felt like she wasn’t enough for the both of you.

Maxwell was too concerned with the outer view of the relationship, as he had been with Valerie since they got married. It was suspicious of course, for him to be seen leaving with a “mystery woman” without his wife around, so he took certain precautions. When out and about, he would take too much time fretting over the cameras and questions than you.

These precautions nearly cost them your relationship, their sweet girl who brought them together and showed them love and care and made them realize while they couldn't live without each other, they couldn’t live without you as well.

But now, they knew this. That you weren’t a fling who could be replaced. Your nimble fingers had stitched their beating hearts back together with a golden thread they wouldn’t dare untie from your own.

You turned away from the heiress and back to the stove as you stirred the red sauce in front of you.

“As abhorrent as that shirt is-” Her voice purred in your ear as her arms slid around your waist and pulled your back flush against her- “I love you in those jeans.”

You chuckled and kept your eyes on the task at hand as you slowly stirred. “As much of a compliment that is, Mrs. Lord, why don’t you keep those hands to yourself until I put this on the stove, alright?”

She hummed, contemplative before pressing her lips to the crook of your neck. “So mean to me baby.”

Her hands toyed with your belt loop, a painted nail hooking your shirt and slowly sliding it out from where it was tucked.

You sucked in a sharp breath. “Valerie.”

“What? Can’t I show my pretty baby some love on Valentines day?”

“Not while I’m cooking on a hot stove, little-miss-gropey.” A quick slap to her wrist with the wooden spoon made her yelp and yank her hands away from you.

“Bitch!”

You turned and pursed your lips. “Aww, poor baby, want me to kiss it better?”

She grumbled under her breath, taking in the splattered food on her wrist from the spoon before swiping her finger through it and bringing it to her mouth.

“Maybe you can kiss my ass instea- Oh, damn that’s good.”

Her eyes widened and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of such a high and mighty woman licking the back of her hand.

“Is that-”

“Basil?” She hummed at the taste. “I’m glad you enjoy it. It’s my father’s recipe.”

Valerie watched you as you cooked. Methodically adding each ingredient while humming along to the radio and swaying from side to side. 

“You don’t talk about him much.”

Valerie knew you were different than her and Maxwell. Your childhood wasn’t full of flashing cameras, propping questions, and hiding tears behind fake smiles to reporters. When your father was brought up in conversation, you didn’t bristle or change the subject. You would smile. 

She wasn’t jealous of that joy. That love you had from your family. She’s grateful for it, that amongst the struggles you had, there was also support and happiness. 

“He doesn’t come up in conversation often.” Valerie’s hands once more wrapped around your waist, but simply settled at your hips. Her body was flush with your own and she let her head rest on your shoulder, gently swaying with you as you continued to cook. 

“Tell me about him.”

She saw the small smile that graced your lips, mourning and grateful all at once as you spoke of him. 

“He used to say that as people, we’re a collection of those around us. The ones we’ve loved. All their little mannerisms and tics become a part of who we are. And that we do the same for other people who love us.” 

As you slowly set the pasta onto the bottom of the pan and began to layer the sauce, she wondered who you were an amalgamation of. Was the way you tilted your head back as you laughed from an old flame? 

Was the way you sang and shook your hips from a best friend when you were young, who you wished had been more?

Were the soft kisses you press to the tip of their noses something given to you? Or an act of love learned by watching your parents?

Did you have anything of hers? Of Max’s? 

Did they have anything of yours? 

“I see it in you and Max, yanno.” You stepped back to open the oven and settle the pan on the top rack before shutting it. “You both do a lil’ nose scrunch when you get angry.”

“What?” She drew back from your body, unintentionally wrinkling her nose in the process. “We do not.”

You pulled her close to your body again. Your arms settled around her waist as you slowly moved side to side. You hummed along to the smooth voice of Grover Washington Jr. that danced from the radio and filled the large kitchen, empty except for the two of you. 

“Sure do. You're also both very boujee-”

“Hey.”

“A touch temperamental-”

“I’ll give you that one but-"

“As well as emotionally constipated-”

“Excuse me?”

“And yet-” You hummed, letting your head drop forward to rest against hers, nose bumping against hers in a gentle caress- “I can’t help but love you both every damn day.”

Her blue eyes widened, before she groaned and shoved her face into your shirt. 

“You fucking sap.” She lifted her head to yours and kissed you. The melody curled around you as she wrapped her arms around your neck and tugged you flush against her. A soft moan broke from her lips as you ran your hands over the plush skin of her ass. 

You pulled away long enough to press a kiss to the tip of her nose, giggling when her face scrunched up in response. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Val."

Valerie Lord never thought she’d have this. This love and security. The ability to smile and kiss and dance on a Sunday night in the arms of a lover. She didn’t think she’d ever have a day where she felt love, a love she wasn’t afraid to admit. 

Especially to two people. 

The pair of you danced in silence, listening to the lyrics that serenaded the way you spun her and the laugh that bubbled up her chest her perfect, pinned, blonde curls came loose. 

And darling when the morning comes

And I see the morning sun

I wanna be the one with you.

When Maxwell came home, he noticed how quiet the house was. No chatter or footsteps along the hardwood floors. He knew what day it was, of course he did. He wasn’t an idiot. Valentine’s Day wasn’t a special day with the Lords. It never had been. 

But of course, that was before they met you.

Maxwell never saw that love with his parents. His mother was cold and cruel, and while his father was a good man, he knew he didn’t love her. He didn’t blame him for it. But now he felt it. The way his heart would hammer against his ribs so hard he wondered if you could hear him. The way all his stress and anger would melt away the moment Valerie’s hands held his face in a grasp like that used to carry a bird with a broken wing. 

He didn’t think it was possible to love. To desire and need somebody as much as he did you two. Now he did, and he wouldn’t go back to a life without it for all the money and power in the world. 

The sound of smooth sax caught his attention. Slowly, he set down his briefcase and followed the music until he found himself in front of the kitchen. 

This. Maxwell thought as he watched the two of you, your eyes shut as you held one another in a close embrace as swayed. This is why he did it all. 

The long hours, the greuling work and idiotic employees. If he could come home to this everyday, it’d all be worth it. 

He leaned against the doorway, watching you two until your own eyes opened and met his. 

“Happy to finally have you with us monopoly-man.”

He snorted at your lovingly crude nickname. “It was a long day at work.” Gone was the fake ‘apple-pie-and-picket-fence’ accent he forced himself to use at work when he spoke and you loved it. To see the real Maxwell was a privilege, one you would never take for granted. 

“Every day at work is a long day for you.”

Before he could retort, his wife unwrapped her arms from you and walked over to her husband. Valerie cupped his face in her hand and led him to her lips with a soft moan. Maxwell melted into the kiss with ease, all thoughts of work and conference calls vanished into thin air as his wife’s fingers carded through his hair. She pulled away with a wet pop and ran a thumb over the smudged lipstick on his face. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Maxwell let his hand run over her bottom lip with a lazy smile. She was magnificent like this. Not preened or pinned or posed. She was messy and unkempt and happy. She never looked more breathtaking than in those moments. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”

Her eyes flicked over his crisp suit and her sweet smile was replaced with a groan. 

“Son of a bitch you fuckers are matching!”

You shrieked with laughter while Valerie pointed an accusatory finger at the heart-covered tie that lay on her husband’s chest. 

“You tacky traitor!”

You leaned over and pressed your lips to his cheek, his hand coming to rest at the small of your back. 

“Aw don’t worry, Max. She’s just jealous she isn't matching with us.”

Valerie reared back. “I’ll be caught dead before I ever-”

“Alastair sent them to us.”

A moment of silence passed before she spoke again, more offended than annoyed. 

“And he didn’t send one for me?”

Maxwell smirked at his wife, fishing out a small white box and presenting it to her. 

“Our son knows his mother wouldn’t be caught dead in anything with gaudy patterns.” He opened the box and she took in the red heart earrings with a smile. 

Which was ultimately ruined by you. 

“Aw, he boujee just like his mama!”

Before either one could snap back at you, a small ding sounded through the kitchen and you moved quickly over to the oven. 

“You know-” Maxwell spoke as he put the earrings on his wife with gentle hands- “We have a chef for a reason.”

You brought out the pan and set it onto the stove, taking in the savory smell with a proud smile. 

“Well, fine then. Go get your cook to make you dinner if you want to complain.”

“Wait. Wait, no that not- that’s not what I meant- I’m starving, please.”

Valerie moved around her husband, taking a bottle of red wine and bumping his hip with hers. “Just set the table Maxwell, we both know how you can make it up to her later. It’s a special day after it all.”

Her husband loosened his tie and grinned at you in a way that made you think he wanted to eat you for dinner instead of the meal you prepared. 

“Lovely idea, darling.”

[thebadchoicemachine]

For the writing prompt, what about ghost!Robin and Catboy!Corpse seeing present day Cornelius/Dream? Like Dream being confused and happy about his Partner and Son’s Ghosts being there and everyone else being v confused about the two random people calling him Cornelius and knowing him from a hundred years ago.

anon im so sorry. This has been sitting in my inbox for months now but I just cannot finish this story. it a really cool idea though. Here’s my incomplete first draft. I just copy and paste it from my wip to here so this is it, notes and cuts and typos and all. 

The idea is Karl shows up when they’re in the prison and they see the false timeline where Cornelius was a killer and are forced to accept he sucks

_________________

- The execution cell was supposed to be merciful, a more civilized solution than being beat to death, but everything about it made Robin gag. He hoped he would never ever end up in it. 

tw: implied indirect suicide, major death but they’re ghosts(?) 

--•-•-*-•-•-- 

Colors and colors and colors wouldn’t stop melting and mixing and swirling. They surrounded him. They were in him. They were him. He breathed them in without breathing, he bled them without blood, he was falling and flying and stood completely still. 

And then it was dark. No, then it was light. White and clean like the marble of a palace Robin knew he would never get to see. 

Where... where was he? He’d won hadn’t he? They’d... killed... him. They’d killed everyone. 

He wanted to die. He had to. There was boiling in his blood he couldn’t ease, he had to die, he needed them to hate him. To end him. The Jester’s Curse. Cursed to be wronged, to be hurt, to be freed. 

He’d always had it, as far as he was concerned. He didn’t know why he resisted for so long. Perhaps, despite everything, he’d enjoyed living at one point. Despite what he was, despite his curse, despite bring a jester, he wanted to live! At some point he couldn’t care less about tricking others into condemning him to the grave. 

After Cornelius, after Cat, he didn’t even fight it nor could he fight for it. He didn’t even care. Even as the ground swallowed him up in flames of the execution he held no harmony. No peace. There was no joy in his victory, there was no meaning to his death. Even in fulfilling it, he’d denied his curse. 

That’s why he was still here, wasn’t it? Jesters want to die, they want to transform, to be released into vengeful spirits of lies and trickery. He was... dead. He was also... still here... why? He knew why. He didn’t think he liked the answer. 

Robin couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand to bother mourning anymore. Not himself, not his long-dead family, not his new fath- he choked. He didn’t know know on what, he had no air, no lungs. He just couldn’t finish the thought. 

“We never did make it official, did we?” A solemn, comforting, voice rang out.

Robin spun around. No. What? No, it’s not. It is. He is. Right there. Standing- no, not standing. Neither of them can stand. Not floating either just… there… was Cat. 

Robin felt his eyes fill up with tears, he didn’t know how, he didn’t care. He flew into his friend’s arms. 

“Woah! Ah, be careful, child.”

“H-how,” Robin sobbed into his chest. “How are you…”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

“I th-thought that was because of my c-curse.”

Cat sighed, gently ruffling the child’s hair.  

“No,” he spoke, finally. “I don’t think that’s why any of us are here.”

“Then-”

“No, I don’t think it’s what happens to everyone either. I’ve been alone as far as I can tell. I haven’t found anyone else. Not even…” he sighed again. 

Robin understood. Cornelius was gone. 

“I’m so sorry, Robin.” Cat tightened his grip. “I’m so sorry for what we put you through. We promised we would give you a better life, a safer one, but we left you in the worst way possible. You were executed because... because of me.”

“Oh,” Robin stared down at his feet. “You... were there for that?”

“No. I wasn’t- I can’t- I don’t know how to explain it, I only know what happened. Exactly what happened. It was like living a story being told to you, as though a nar- narrating...

Narration. Something clicked in both of their minds. Wasn’t there some strange… the spirals… the colors… he didn’t have a name, not one he ever told them. He had simply showed up one day, right before it all began. He wasn’t there, not properly anyway,. but he was there. He was there in the backs of everyone’s minds. He was there as he explained away every awful thing like it was a footnote in a novel. He was there as he made and told truth. He was the Narrator. 

He had such an air of control, such an air of change. 

Thoughts (memories?) of a past that never happened flashed through Robin’s mind. Cat was out investigating, Robin was carefully looking over his medical supplies. He couldn’t risk- NO. No. He swept the distraction from his mind. He wouldn’t get carried away, not this time.

The narrator. The Narrator. He had a book. A swirling and swishing mash of colors cover on his book he scribed all their horrors into. That’s where they were. 

“Cat, we need to go. He made a mistake. This… was his first time. We are not supposed to be here. We were never meant to leave. We should try to get out.”

Cat only nodded. Robin didn’t know why he understood or how deeply, but he did. This was a mistake.

The two began wandering the halls. It was strange, being able to think and move again as though his body was still his. To have his mind and thoughts working in a stream of consciousness instead of a thick muddy bog of echos. If he didn’t know any better he’d describe it as feeling more… alive.

He even reached out to guide Cat out of habit. How amazing was it that he had habits again? Cat allowed him to because he knew the comfort it gave him to have something so familiar. Although, of course, not really needing him to. They were both still dead, spirits, memories. Living- not living like this, detached, was like existing with a million tiny radars reaching out all around you. It wasn’t a matter of seeing or feeling, simply knowing. When you were so disconnected from life and itself you were able to get a much clearer and instant idea of the world, he supposed.

They walked and wandered in silence for a while. At least, a while from their perspective. Even with no real idea what or where they were Robin could tell time was… off… here. 

Eventually, they found their way out. There was no exit or pathway they walked through nor was it a sudden jump. They had just… made it out. They were standing beneath the shelter of some trees. It was raining. They were surrounded by unfamiliar structures and landscapes. Of course they were, but this wasn’t just some distant biome or kingdom it was…

“Robin? Are you alright?” 

“I- yes. I’m fine, Cat. This is- I mean, that place is just… wow.”

“It’s... different, yes. This rain is- hmm, it’s weird. I can’t feel it but I know it’s there. It’s making everything fuzzy.”

Robin stuck his hand out. The raindrops sizzled against his skin. He was so focused on the odd sensation he jumped when Cat yanked his arm back.

“What was that? Are you alright?”

“The rain, it stings.”

“Badly? Are you hurt?”

“Not really. It feels like I’m a bar of soap being whittled down by the drops but I’m fine. It only feels strange.”

“Oh, good,” Cat breathed a sigh of relief. “In that case, let’s keep moving.” 

Robin agreed. They didn’t have anywhere to go but neither felt like standing under the tree for all eternity. Besides, they were in a whole new world, maybe even a whole new dimension, and Robin was really curious to see what was with those strange building 

It all seemed impossible. 

His breath was taken away at every turn as they walked. Structures like nothing he’d ever seen before. There were so many colors, so many shapes, so many mechanics, so many things, and all so high and huge. It was amazing. 

“Slow down a little, this rain is really disorienting.”

“Sorry! Sorry, this place is just… wow.”

“So you’ve said,” Cat laughed. “What exactly is so amazing about it? Describe it to me.”

“Well, there’s so much of it. It’s like a town but nothing like a town at all. More like a whole kingdom. A very strange kingdom.  There’s no uniform to it, every build is unique. There was a castle we passed, it was huge and had so many colors! There were just rainbows and rainbows pouring out of every-”

“Mmm, interesting.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“This castle though, it felt like regret, didn’t it?”

“Y-yeah? Kinda,” Robbin had been trying to avoid thinking about that, how he could feel every building. “Uh, over to your side there is a pit, a giant crater bigger than our entire town! It’s tragic. It’s refreshing a little. It’s kind of…”

“Familiar. I- I don’t want to be near that, Robin. Let’s keep moving.”

Robin didn’t agree. He wanted to get closer, to feel what was so sad, so new, so ended, what about whatever tragedy there was familiar. He wanted to understand what he knew would hurt him, and why. 

*****

“No! He would never!” Cat’s voice was rising. It was honestly scary, Robin had never seen him so wrathful. “He is the kindest person you will ever know! He is a protector! He’s- he is-”

“Do you really believe that?” The Narrator asked, calm and unfazed, sorrow creeping into his question. Robin couldn’t shake it from his mind. His thoughts were ruffles like pages flipping backward in a book. Like a pencil rubbing revealing words erased and undone but that had still been written. He was sent back to his flashing memories, his lies, unable to stop them.  

Cat was out investigating, Robin was carefully looking over his medical supplies. He couldn’t risk choosing wrong tonight. He’d been right to focus on himself. No, he’d been lucky. He’d panicked. Cat was out to the town now. Robin was out now. The killers knew they could stop them, they would be targets. The killers…

Part of him wanted to ignore it, to go back to thinking it couldn’t be one of them. That no one would do something like that, that is must be some outside force but Jimmy… they’d gotten him right. Robin winced at the memory of Helga, at how it had almost been him, but they’d gotten Jimmy right. He knew they had, the Narrator said so. 

The next morning, no one had died. Robin hadn’t needed to heal anyone. Cat reported Jack hadn’t left his home. It seemed like, well, it must be Jack. It just had to be, didn’t it? Robin frowned. He liked Jack enough, he didn’t want to kill anyone. He didn’t want to be wrong again but what choice did he have?

Jack was fighting. He was shouting, angry, scared. He was in the exact same place Robin had been a few nights ago. The familiarity burned inside his chest. He couldn’t stand any more of this, it needed to end tonight. 

“IT’S CORNELIUS!  IT’S HIM! IT HAS TO BE! Look at me. Look at me! You know me, I’m simple, I farm potatoes. If Helga was still here she’d remind yall I ain’t good for much else. You really think I could do this?”

Robin couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to spare everyone he could but… Cornelius? Could he really condemn him any more than he could Jack? Could he any less? 

“What makes you think it’s me and not one of them? I know you’re a killer, Jack. You guessed Cat would be on your trail tonight and didn’t kill. Why else wouldn’t someone be dead today?” Cornelius’s voice was as calm and upbeat as ever, if not a bit exasperated. 

“He’s smart! He’s too smart. Look at his freaky, calculatin’ eyes, if you can ever see them. Look at him! Hiding behind that mask, wearing that ridiculous green hood, what’s that smile for, huh? None of us should have trusted him the day he set foot in this town, make up for it now. C’mon! Cat, I know you’re better than murderin’ folks for mayhem. Bob, you’re as simple as me! Robin,” Robin froze up as he was addressed directly “You’re a child, a sweet one. I’m sorry you have to live through this. I’m sorry you’ve been where I am now but I only hope that gives you the empathy you need to make the right choice. It’s him. I swear it’s not me!”

Everything felt stifled. He muffled the distraught protests of Cat in favor of listening to his own. No. No, it couldn’t be.  Everyone in town used to be friendly but Cornelius was a friend. He and Cat had been there for Robin. They’d taken him in, cared for him, treated him as their own son. Well, Cat had. 

Robin slowly blinked. What had Cornelius done for him? Thinking this way made him sick but he needed to be rational here. Did he really believe Cornelius was innocent, truly? He trusted Cat. Cat had proof he was safe, even if he wasn’t an investigator he had years and years of kindness to back him up. What did Cornelius have, really? He was kind, decent enough, but so was Jack. So were Jimmy and Helga. That wasn’t something he could base his vote on. 

So what did make him so sure it wasn’t Cornelius? The only… he realized the only thing holding him up was Cat. Cat loved him. Robin wanted that to be enough. He wanted desperately to go back home, to lay in Cat’s lap while Cornelius told them stories. He wanted to retreat into his memories but when he tried they felt corrupted, tainted, hollow. 

Every time he tried to imagine the kind way Cornelius had ruffled his hair, how he’d giggle and blush after a kiss from Cat, how he’d take off his mask at home and join Robin sitting on the porch, every time he tried to lose himself in the memory of that soft, humored, smile he was frozen inside by the eyes. Even when they were sad or kind his eyes were always vibrant, sharp… calculating. 

Robin took a shaky breath. He didn’t like this, he didn’t want to do this, any of it. He was filled with a numb resolve as he cast his vote. He had no proof either was innocent but he had no reason to believe Jack was capable of this… he knew Cornelius was. 

“The voting has finished,” The Narrator began. “Jack... Jack is the most suspected but this means nothing. Cornelius, by 3/5ths of the vote you have been found guilty. Please, step into the chamber.”

-

“NO!” A scream cut through the faux memory, just barely. Just enough for Robin to hear it. Who had yelled? Cat? Cor- Dream? Himself? He didn’t know, he was still lost.

-

Lost… Robin was so lost. 3/5ths. Cornelius obviously voted for Jack and vice versa, Bob was on Jack’s side, Cat must have voted for Jack even if only to save his love. Robin had been the deciding vote. What had he done? Was he right? Cornelius gave him no answer as he calmly stepped into the cell. The Narrator blabbed on, explaining the votes and who and what but for the first time since the colorful stranger arrived Robin couldn't listen to a word he said, instead focusing on Cat. 

Cat had run to the jail, his hands reaching desperately through the bars. “I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this,” he kept repeating. His voice was calm and low but Robin could tell that was desperate. He was putting on an act, trying to reassure Cornelius as though it would all solve itself if he just kept together. Cornelius still didn’t speak. He took Cat’s hand and rested it on his face, under his mask.

Then the grate snaped close and Cat was forced to pull his hand back. He barely moved though, pressing his hands against the wire through the bars. Cornelius pressed his hand up from the other side. Maybe Cat could feel it, maybe he couldn’t, Robin didn’t know which he preferred. 

Part of Robin wanted to put him to back away, to warn him the bars and fence was there for a reason, but the rest of him knew he couldn’t. The least- the only thing he could do was allow Cat this brief moment of closure, if you could even call it that. 

Cornelius still kept silent, for just the briefest of moments Robin hated him. How dare he? How dare he sit there, keeping Cat suffering in silence? How dare he keep Robin in this horrid suspense? How dare he not admit his crimes or keep pleading his innocence? How dare he… how dare… then Robin heard Cat whimper and the anger was gone. 

“We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? We-”

“Well, that’s not gonna happen,” The Narrator laughed, almost callously. If he wasn’t so detached from the world, so different from them he felt innocent even in cruelty, Robin might’ve felt like spitting on him. He couldn’t though, he was different. He was detached. He was like a child who didn’t know any better than to hurt others’ feelings. Like a child except instead of not knowing any better he knew too much. 

Maybe that’s why Robin didn’t lash out or protest as the narrator pulled the lever. Maybe that’s why he didn’t scream as the pistons shifted. Maybe that’s why he only closed his eyes and ignored the shouts of triumph. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry at Jack and Bob for celebrating, at the moment he was only glad their cries drowned out the sizzle. 

[dontshootmespence]

Through It All

Part 31

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 1,469

Warnings: Exhibitionism, p in v. 

A/N: The next entry for @cm-kinkbingo​ run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt​. This fulfills my sex in a car square.

Somehow, Morgan and Blake are already two months old. They recognize your faces now, their gazes trailing yours and Spencer’s movements. Colors are starting to get more cemented in their view. They get bigger and bigger each day. It’s astounding how quickly they grow. But man do you need a break.

Spencer’s orchestrated it yet again, inviting his mother and your parents over to the apartment to watch the kids. Your parents have met Blake and Morgan before, but it’s Diana’s first time and she’s in awe. “I know they can’t technically look like you, but they have your eyes,” Diana laughs. “When you get home will we be able to spend a little time together before I go back?”

“Absolutely,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Her medication is stable but he still sees twinges of her losing her memory, so even though he knows you’ll both be tired after your little day away, he assures her they’ll have dinner together before he drives her back. “We’ll be back tomorrow night, okay? For now, bask in the babies.”

“Oh, I will,” she coos.

---

As soon as you get in the car, you ask Spencer where you’re going, but he refuses to let you in on his little secret. He just assures you that it’s going to be a fun time and allows you to drift off to sleep in the passenger side seat.

A little over three hours pass before a bump in the road wakes you up. It’s probably the most peaceful sleep you’ve had since the twins came home. “Are we near Virginia Beach?”

“Yup. I know you said you used to go when you were a kid, so I figured you’d enjoy going back.”

You practically start to cry. “When the babies are older we should bring the whole family here.”

Spencer reaches over with his free hand and slips his fingers in yours. “Family. Never thought I’d have that.”

When you look over, you see his eyes wet with tears. “I know, but you do. It’s real. We’re real.”

“That we are,” he smiles.

---

After sunset, you pull into the hotel parking lot. It doesn’t look like a normal hotel. It’s not a Hilton or a Marriott. It’s a smaller-in-comparison place called The Tapestry that looks like a small winery. Rain-worn wood and white-trimmed windows. And it’s just a short drive to the beach so right after checking in you get back into the car and make the drive.

Most people are leaving because the sun has already set but instead you allow the gentle lapping waves to beckon you toward the shore. You sigh as Spencer cracks open the front windows and turns off the ignition. Though the waves are soft, no white caps indicative of an incoming storm, the second the world goes quiet around you, the sound of the ocean begins to almost purr, lulling you into contemplative relaxation. “Wanna cuddle in the backseat?” You ask hopefully.

Spencer is all limbs and smiles as he fumbles his way into the back of the car before holding his arms out to welcome you into his embrace. Even though you aren’t standing up, you somehow trip into him, smashing your face into his chest which causes you both to lose your breath in a fit of laughter. “This was necessary,” Spencer sighs.

With lithe fingers, he strokes up and down your arm, fingernail grazing your skin just so, sending shivers down your spine. Gentle or firm, his touch drives you crazy and suddenly a dirty thought enters your mind. “Sir?”

Immediately, you feel him stir. “Yes, love?”

“You never got to do any impulsive teenage things like have sex in the backseat of a car?” You give him a big, shining smile, knowing the answer and how the idea will roll around in his head.

Spencer takes a quick glance around before replying, his hands skimming under the hem of your shirt as he does. “No, too busy with school. Help me?”

Without a thought to who might see, you slip your shirt up over your head and throw it on the floor next to you, before dipping your lips to his neck to trail along behind his ear. He shivers and gathers you close, breathing heavily into your ear.

Reaching between you, you unzip his jeans. He sits up ever so slightly to allow you to push his pants down below his knees before sitting down again. When he grasps your waist and pulls your sex flush with him, you grind slowly against his cock, losing yourself in how quickly and easily you affect him.

Spencer bits down on your ear as you line his cock against your entrance, sliding down with ease, the mix of pleasure and pain shooting straight through you. “As most teenagers, I’m probably going to shoot off like a bottle rocket,” Spencer says, laughing into your mouth, his hips thrusting upward of their own accord.

“Me too, it’s okay.” You’ve had sex in front of a room full of people before and yet the idea of getting caught is revving you up in ways you hadn’t thought possible. Out the back window, you’re keeping an eye out for incoming headlights. “I think someone’s coming.”

Spencer grabs your face and tongues at your mouth. “I don’t care. Let them see.”

You laugh and begin to swirl your hips in figure eights just as the car pulls up a few spots away. Thankfully, it’s not a cop, it’s only a horrified older couple that quickly backs up and drives away upon seeing you. Laughing, you throw your head back and caress your breasts, offering them to Spencer as he latches on. “I think you liked that a little too much,” he teases.

“Not me,” you say playfully, whimpering as he nips at your taut peaks. “Why would I like that?”

“Because you’re my little slut,” he replies. With both hands, he grasps your hips and holds you in place as he thrusts upward with no abandon, crying out your name as you tighten around him, shaking. Spencer rakes his fingernails up your back as your trembling subsides. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

“What? Exhibitionism?”

“Yea,” he laughs, kissing along your collarbone.

“I don’t know, but I suggest we do more of it. How about a movie theater? We’ll go to one we know won’t be packed, sit in the back and try to get each other off while being as quiet as possible.”

“You’re so kinky,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss.

“Just one of the many reasons you married me.”

Disentangling yourselves, you both redress as much as possible and drive back to the hotel, quickly stumbling into your room where the clothes once again fly.

---

The next morning, you lazily make love in the shower before going to grab breakfast. He brings you to the same restaurant you used to go to as a child, reveling in the big buffet and stuffing yourself full. “What’s next?” You ask happily, practically jumping up and down. Not that you aren’t still young, but having children puts your life in a different perspective. Having this time to breathe allows you to just be again, filling you with childlike joy.

Spencer reenacts your trips with your family step-by-step, first taking you to the Virginia Aquarium. You’d always loved watching the sea turtles, so you sit there for nearly two hours, in silence, with Spencer’s arm wrapped around you.

The entire day is planned. He takes you to lunch and then for a walk through the state park before driving you to the Norfolk Botanical Gardens. As you glide along the path hand-in-hand, Spencer leads you through a maze of colorful flowers, butterflies fluttering delicately all around you until you reach a gazebo practically crawling with red roses.

Underneath the sprawling ivy and red roses, Spencer gathers you close and pulls out a smallish velvet box, definitely not a ring, but something sparkly. “You proposing again?” You laugh.

All he does is smile.

When you open the box, the gleaming metal catches the sun’s rays and brings attention to the heart lock. It’s sterling silver with rose-gold accents and has a key sitting just beside the heart. Spencer steps closer, slipping the bracelet out of its box and around your wrist. “With three babies, I know life is hectic and we don’t always get to do the things we used to do, so I bought this. Every time you look at it, I want you to take comfort in knowing that you’ll always be mine.”

As your eyes fill with tears, you pull him into a heated kiss, only breaking away when you hear someone else approaching. “Thank you, Sir. I’m where I’m meant to be.”

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn​ @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid​ @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1​ @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid​ @lazynoodledragon​ @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97​ @grace-superpowers​ @softestlavender​ @ssa-dr-ladylock​ @drprettyboy​ @patricks-fabulous-face​ @tearosaria​ @shxdowofdarkness​ @marvels-gurl​ @gublergirls​

[bestruction]

Hey congrats on the milestone !!! If it's not to much trouble may i have a (male) fluff aot matchup please. Im a Capricorn, my mbti type is infj-a/infj-a. 3 things I like about myself are that im kind, helpful and smart. Something I don't like about myself is I hace trouble communicating my feelings and I don't speak up against people if there bothering me. I tend to be shy around new people but I can be somewhat loud around people who Im close to. My pronouns are she/her. I have medium length brown hair, green eyes, wear round glasses and have pale skin. I have a lot of freckles. My height is 5'0. I like to read books and also cook and bake food. Im not very athletic and im not a big fan if sports but I love to go roller/ice skating. I also have been playing the violin for 6 years. And I like to garden. I also like to watch nature/animal documentaries. I love animals and in planning on becoming a wildlife veterinarian. Some things I dislike are people who bend/ruin my books and people who talk over me when I try to speak. A perfect date would be a picnic in a field of flowers. And also cannonverse/aot au. I hope this is ok, sorry if I spelt anything wrong. I hope im not bothering you :)

Also I might have sent you a ask before But I don't remember. So if I did and you haven't gotten to that ask, you can ignore this/delete this :) congrats again on your milestone 💗💞

I ship you with...

- Armin Arlert

For someone with a personality so rare, I could only choose someone with an equally rare personality. That's why I ship you with Armin. Since the two of you share a love for books, you would meet each other at the Wall Rose's Library. You were trying to reach a book on a higher shelf, and he got to you, and from then on, a timid conversation started about how much you both liked the author. Your relationship would develop slowly. At first, only a few "Hello" and "good morning" exchanged, but the more you talked about the books you read, the more comfortable you would become with each other's presence. Do you know that friend who seems to have appeared out of nowhere? Like, when you least expect it, you find yourself caring and wanting to be close to that person. That would be the friendship of the two of you and the beginning of a romantic relationship as well since you are both shy.

You would have the most random and intellectual conversations possible. I can imagine them talking about air resistance and after the meaning of life on the same day. He would feel understood at your side and would be touched to notice how kind you are. Armin had problems with others for talking about what he thought in his childhood. To have someone to listen to him (in addition to Mikasa and Eren) without judging would be incredible for him.

He is a curious person in all aspects. That means that he would analyze you all the time to learn more about who's the girl under the round glasses, making you red by the intensity of his look. He will ask you to play the violin for him after he finds out that you play and if it doesn't bother you, especially when he's feeling down as the sound calms him down.

It's not a problem for him that you can't express your feelings easily. He knows that does not mean that you do not feel. So who would confess first would be him, while you two skated on the lake on a day off. Anyone passing by could see two red dots in the snow in the distance, but no one could measure his joy when you said you felt the same way.

As your boyfriend, Armin always melts to see how well you handle animals, and he could spend a whole day watching you take care of them. He may be quiet, but he's does everything for anyone who he cares about. So if he saw someone abusing your kindness, it wouldn't be long before he spoke to the person.

He wants to protect you from the cruel world. He wants to take you to see the sea someday. He wishes that he could be born in another life with you so he wouldn't need to fear losing you in some tragedy, like with his grandfather.

When all the titans outside the wall were defeated, he took you outside, carrying a basket in his hand. You two walked into a field full of flowers, and there spread a checkered towel for the picnic. He still feels the fear rising in his spine when he hears a noise in the woods, an automatic reflection against the titans. If it weren't for your smile as you picked the flowers, maybe he wouldn't even be able to really relax in that place. After eating, the two of you would lie on the grass in silence, enjoying each other's company. Armin would strum the details of your face, following your freckles with his finger as if drawing a constellation, which would make sense since you would mean the universe to him.

I'm kind nervous since this is my first matchup ever. I hope you like it. Thank you for request AND FOR YOUR KINDNESS 💞

And i also play violin🙋‍♀️ let's be friends 😂

[sarah-writes-marvel]

Interogation: Avengers x Fem!Reader

S.S: This one is a little cringe worthy, its got a lot of Pintrest writing dialouge in it so just caution of that! But hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Knife, Blood (kinda), cringe.....

Word Count: 1,624

MASTERLIST

-----------------------------

I settled onto the couch, in my plush baby blue PJ pants and an oversized sweater, and my wet hair still dripping onto my shoulder. The team had just returned from a rather difficult mission and everyone was exhausted. Slowly one by one, each Avengers walked into the room, decked out in their own pajamas, and freshly showered.

“What are we watching?” Tony inquired as he took a seat in his chair.

“Something funny. I need a laugh.” Clint insisted.

Nat took the remote from my hands, most likely growing impatient with my slow picking and ran through the movies, clicking on one of the funnier ones that we had all seen once or twice.

“I hate to interrupt.” Fury’s voice traveled through the living room, eliciting groans from everyone. “Don’t worry I just need Agent L/n.” 

“For what?” I question, from my slumped state on the couch.

“An interrogation.” 

“You can’t get someone else to do it?” I asked peering over the back of the couch to see him dressed in his usual trench coat.

“Already had our best people try.” He admitted. I toss the blanket that I had snuggled under off onto Bucky who sat next to me.

“Alright, let me go change,” I grumbled.

“Wait, if your best guys have already tried, why send in Y/n/n? No offense, but isn’t she a little inexperienced in that category.” Nat questioned.

“Gee, thanks. I’m not just a good shot Nat. I’ve got tricks.” I smirked before walking back to my room to change from my cozy jammies. I could hear the questions through the hall and Fury staying silent, causing irritation amongst the group.

I was quick to change into black high waisted jeans, a light blue shirt tucked into the waistband, and shrugged on my leather jacket and pulled on my heeled black combat boots, slipping a small pocket knife between my ankle and leather. Adding mascara and running my hands through my wet hair I decided I was good to go.

I was never one to look or be menacing. I was the sweetheart of the group, I wore bright colors, found the silver lining of everything. I did my best not to focus on all the bad around me, which was maybe power in itself considering what I’ve experienced. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” I groaned walking into the living room. 

“Wow. You should wear black more often. You look good.” Sam commented.

“Thanks but it’s not really my style. Unless it’s needed.” I informed. “Y’all coming or something.” 

The group was standing next to Fury, each had their arms crossed or their hand placed on their hips.

“Yes. We want to make sure you’ll be ok.” Steve stated.

“I just want to watch. It’ll be entertaining.” Tony chuckled, I assumed because he believed that I’d walk out of the room defeated.

“Alright, but no intervening with my interrogation.” I laid the ground rule. Each nodded, some after a little bit of hesitation but agreed nonetheless. “Good.”

--------------

We stood on the one-sided mirror, looking into the culprit. A hydra operative, who looked disgruntled, to say the least. Fury handed me the file with a grimace.

“Do you worst. Anything to get him to spill.” He instructed. I nodded in understanding before entering the room.

“Hello.” I greeted, looking through the file. “What’s your name?”

“Why don’t you just read it from the file?” his thick german accent spit.

“Because I dont like conducting interviews like that. I like to see other perspectives first.” I informed, with a small smile.

“Atticus Kahl.”

“I’m Y/n L/n. You can call my Y/n if you would like, or agent if that suits you.” I say as I take a seat across from the man. “I assume you probably know why I’m here talking to you.”

“I will never tell Hydra’s secrets. My loyalty lies with them.” he sneers.

“Alright, we’ll just see about that,” I say with a sickeningly sweet voice. “So I see here that you were a top officer. That must’ve been a lovely privilege.”

“Yes, it was.”

“I’ll bet your wife was proud, to know that you had a commanding officer position amongst Hydra.”

“I don’t have a wife.” he sounded hurt, which he should be.

“Oh, oh I missed that here. It says you volunteered her for experimentation.” I looked at the file. “Oh my, and she died under the needle. I’m sure that was awful.”

“Yes. It was a tragedy, she would’ve been a wonderful asset.” He reminisces.

“I’m sure. Women tend to be very strong-willed. Perfect for the army, things like that. You never questioned your loyalty after they had essentially killed your wife?”

“They didn’t kill her, she was too weak. A woman on her own is weak, I was helping her become more.” 

“So are you insinuating that I am weak?” I question his misogynistic view.

“Unless you have a serum running through your bloodstream, yes.” his dark green eyes pierced mine.

“I love it when people underestimate me. It makes my job so much more fun.” I smiled. “Let’s continue. So you sacrificed your wife for experimentation, meaning Hydra is continuously trying to find the right serum.”

His eyes shifted away, giving away the obvious answer.

“Alright. So you want to let me in on that. I mean you were captain. I’m sure you got to see every failed attempt correct.”

“Like I’ve said before. I won’t betray Hydra. They will come for me.”

“Ya, and when they find you I’ll bet you that they kill you on the spot. Im sure they’d take me instead.” I laugh.

“What makes you believe that your life is worth more than mine?” He questioned leaning towards me.

“What makes you believe that your life is worth anything at all?” I reciprocated his actions. “You’re a pawn for Hydra. They gave you the responsibility of captain, expecting you not to fail and get captured. But here you are, sitting in front of me, spilling Hydra secrets chained to a table.”

He jerked towards me, expecting me to flinch at his immediate action but instead I smirked at him.

“That’s so cute. You think your scary, cause you work for Hydra. But sir, I’ve seen scary… and you ain’t got his smile. Now tell me more about the experiments and Hydra. I love learning.” I insisted.

“Go to hell.” he seethed.

“Sorry, I can’t. Satan still has a restraining order against me.” I retorted propping my feet onto the table. “You’re losing my interest and that’s very dangerous so I suggest you spill the Hydra secrets before I take drastic measures.”

We sat in silence for a solid five minutes before I took the knife from my boot, slamming into the table.

“Since it seems that you people respond best to displays of violence, the next time I set that knife down it’ll be through your hand,” I said pointedly.

“Awfully confident arent you?” he chuckled.

“Yes, my momma raised me to be confident. She taught me which dinner fork would be the most effective for killing a person. It was quite enlightening.” I threatened.

“You’re a psychopath.” 

“I prefer creative,” I said as I flipped the knife and stabbed it through his hand. His ear-piercing scream rang out. “Now talk. And think before you speak,” I hissed “the last person who lied to me got more than a stab to the hand. And I’m sure you’ll want your tongue so you can negotiate your life with your commander.”

The man paled and his terrified features caused a rush of adrenaline through my system. He immediately nodded his head, fear coursing through his veins.

“Good, let’s start from the beginning.”

--------------------------

A confession, diabolical plan (if you could call it that), and 30 minutes later I walked out of the interrogation room, facing the in awe Avengers.

“Here you go. Hope it’ll be enough. Just because he was a captain doesn’t mean he was let in on every secret.” I told Fury, handing him the file and the notes I had made.

“I realize that. It’ll be a start. Thank you. You all can return to your relaxation.”

“Dang I forgot my knife.” I groaned, staring into the room seeing my knife still stuck in the operative’s hand. “Oh well. Alright, movie time?” I asked turning back to the Avengers.

“Who the hell was that in there?” Nat questioned, in awe of my immediate change of personality.

“Uh, me. I dont understand what your asking.” I looked at her curiously.

“That is seemingly impossible. You are the definition of joy.” Thor added. I scoffed.

“Seriously, that person in there was terrifying,” Bucky stated. “It wasn’t you.”

“If you all could even begin to comprehend where I’ve come from, you’d be terrified of me. So it was me, just a side that I dont show often.” I admitted. “Now, you guys can bombard me with questions another time but I’m really not in the mood for anything but pj’s and a movie.”

“Ya, I dont want to get on your bad side after seeing that,” Tony confessed. “Let’s go watch the movie and get some sleep. God knows we could use it.”

With that, the team walked back to the compounded conversation about anything but the interrogation and mission were being discussed.

“I’m sorry but it boggles my mind that you switched your personality so quick. Who taught you that?” Clint asked, breaking the streak.

“Clint,” I said in a warning tone. “Not now.” And with that the rest of the walk was quiet, minus the hurried and slightly annoyed click of my heels in the hallway.

------------------------

Thanks!! Hope it wasnt too cringe worthy!!

[thewritingstar]

To Learn to Love Again

Pairing: Gruvia

warnings: character death.. 

Hi! im not dead I swear!! any ways i truly apologize for this one.......like i cried........but i hope you enjoy???? (i need to write cute stuff...its coming!)

----

“Someone as vile as you could never learn love, and that's where you lose.”

Those words had haunted her ever since they had been spoken. Her expression didn’t even waver at the tone and she rolled her eyes before plunging a knife deep into their stomach, silencing them for all eternity. The blood leaked out and she was gone before their leg had stopped twitching. 

And they were right. She could never love, not again.

She had gone through husband after husband. Finding a rich hallow shell of man who would drop to their knees in a slight second and offer her everything, that was what she had. She collected her debt and when she was done, they would be cast aside in the shadows, divorced and some even left for dead.

That look of numbness, it was cold and brutal and brought a frosty chill down anyone's spine who had happened to catch her gaze, it was always there.

Ring after ring, she tossed them aside or would leave them for an orphanage to pawn off just to feed the hungry children, she had some sort of heart beneath all the smoke and fog inside. They never lasted longer than a month and if so, it could rust off before she could ever say ‘i love you’.

Those words, like fire on the tongue, sick to the stomach and made her toes curl in disgust any time someone uttered them to her. It was all one sided. She didn’t need affection or anyone. She could handle herself but taking ego of a man and all his riches could only fill the hole in her heart for long. She had sold her soul along time ago anyways.

Love. It almost had her laugh. Almost. It was pathetic at this point to even think about it, to even give that hope a speck of light. No, she was far to gone now. There was nothing in this universe that brought her pride or joy. Even the sweet lemon candy she once loved had lost its touch and was just a force of habit now.

-- She clean the knife in the sink and set it aside. Her gaze went out the window as the rain trickled on. Something so beautiful and needed for the world to grow had now become a nuisance, flooding everything in its path and drawing people away than in. But she was fine with that, at least she knew her place.

Even in the pouring rain, she grabbed the umbrella. She once had a bright pink one with hearts that danced along the top but traded it for the dark blue as it seemed to fit her better now. Someday she wished she had it back, but that would be too much. It would bring back more bitterness than good. 

She boots squished in the mud and she gave up caring. There was nothing for her now and slowly and slowly she felt herself drifting farther and farther away, wishing she was like the rain. Here for a second, then gone the next. 

“Never learn to love.” She clutched the handle, her knuckles turning white.

She could never love any other.

Not any more.

“Thats where you lose.”

And she had lost.

But they were wrong about love. Wrong about her never feeling the highs and lows of what the feeling was. She had been in love before, a beautiful and wonderful love.

Her memory was constantly playing those times, a loop for only her to know. Where she could run through the forest with him hot on her heels and they would lose their breath and slump against the tree. He would lean over her, hiding her from the burning sun under a tree and kiss her cheek, then her neck, then her lips. She could almost taste him. She could almost see the way his eyes glazed over as he took her in and she could feel the blush. 

Memories of them fighting bad guys and using their strengths to out number their opponents, she would hug him tight after a victory and they would slip away from the crowds and he would tell her how much her loved her.

The times they spent dancing, humming to their own tunes. She remembers how shy he was when they first started dating but then his confidence soared and he made sure that everyone knew how much he adored her.

Her laughed at her jokes, held her when she was sad and cheered her on no matter what. They were the ones people rooted for.

The feeling of love was always with her and it washed away the years of pain and suffering she endured. He was the one to carry her out of the dark, to love her a full capacity. To make her head be in the clouds even on the bad days.

She knew what love was.

And then it ended just as it began. She had love the tragedy in literature and now she was suffering, the only difference was once the book close, you could open it and start again. This was permanent. 

The scream that escaped her lips as she watched his knees buckle to the ground and fall just as he saved her, it echoed through the empty walls of the house they once shared. The blood that coated the fresh fallen snow, stuck to her mind that a broken record player and when she held him in her arm, he gave her a smile.

His head was in her lap and she brushed back his bangs. His chest rising and falling, it stopping faster and faster. Her face was red with tears and anger but all she could see was his dark brown eyes looking up at her. She could tell you the moment when his eyes had lost his soul and turned black. 

“You saved me again.” She said and he had enough strength to bring her hand to his lips. 

“You were always so beautiful even when you cried.” he whispered just as his eyes fluttered. “I love you.” And she didn’t think he heard her when she said it back.

She had lost the only one she had ever loved. And that next day she still walked down in her wedding dress and cried until the sun rose the next day. That pit of despair and fear crawled back into her slowly, undoing all the darkness he had vanished.

There was nothing stopping her, nothing keeping her going. And when they all came to find her, she was long gone, never to be seen again.

-- Her feet slowed as she stopped at a small clearing in the forest.

The money, the jewels, the riches. None of that mattered. 

This life she was living was suppose to be theirs. She was suppose to wake up and see him there. Walk down the path with him at her side and watch as he would make her small sculptures out of ice. He would sit on the counter as she baked and try and distract her. There was so much of the world left to see yet she had lost her universe already. 

Her knees hit the group with a thud but she made no noise as she guided her hand to the cold stone that had his name engraved. The only thing that ever made her feel even the smallest speck of emotion was her ring.

The only ring she had even wore was from him, her beloved. And even that had lost its sparkle over time.

“You know Gray-sama…” She thought this was dumb. Talking to a stone, but right now, more than ever, she needed him. “Juvia thought she could do it… she thought she could be okay.” Her lips trembled and for the first time in a while, she cried. “You taught Juvia how to love. How to be a wonderful and selfless person, you did. And its not fair” Another wave of sadness hit her. She shook her head. “The way you smiled and laughed with your friends, you loved everyone.”

“Juvia just hopes you knew how much she loved you.” She sobbed and she could feel the tears burning her cheeks.

There was a silence, like always and she hoped she would wake up from this bad dream and he would be standing there and his arms would be open and she would run to him and never let go. But she didn’t, and she never would. He was her person and she was his.

She sat at his grave, tracing his name slowly and she prayed that she never forgot the sound of his voice or the smell of his clothes. The feeling of his hands and the texture of his lips had faded like a whisper and before she realized what was happening, it was gone.

“Happy anniversary my love.”

The sky above grew darker as she finally managed to walk away, turning around just to feel her heart shatter again. She could never learn to love again, because how could you love someone when your heart had been given up long ago?

--

And then the minute reset. 

Her eyes were blurry with tears as she heard someone call her name. 

“Juvia!” She looked down to see Gray in her lap, fear in his eyes as pulled her close. 

Her entire memory had become twisted in her mind as she looked around at the battle field then back at Gray. Her tears were full of anger and sorrow.

“Juvia?’ He said worried about that look but before he could finish she had slammed their lips together and pulled him closer to her.

His breath was warm on her face as she pulled away and she looked him in the eyes. they were still the beautiful shade of brown, full of life with pupils blown wide. 

“Gray, promise Juvia you’ll never leave her like that again?”

And the look on her face had sent a cold shiver down his spine. He didn’t know that he had just died and their future had played in her mind, but what he did know in that moment was to never leave her because he loved her.

“I promise.”

She had learned to love, but she would be damned if she ever lost. No, not ever again. 

That night Gray gave her a promise ring and it shined brightly and her tears and sorrow were soon forgotten.

----

Btw i wasn’t going to add the happy ending but then i thought that yall maybe needed it. Im sorry i havent been posting but now that we are in quarantine, hopefully i can get more going, i have alot planned!!

hope you enjoyed!

[heywardsarchive]

Track #1. Heartbreak weather✨ Listen to it here (watch the mv it's so frikin adorable)

Peter Parker x reader (unnamed female)

Warnings: very floofy, angst if you squint, brief mentions of death. I guess that's it...

Special thanks to @im-a-writer-right for beta reading this🥺

Word count: 1.3k + words

Let's go!

Peter Parker's life wasn't all fun and games. He felt pain. Lots of it. Losing his parents at a young age and then his uncle and then his mentor. His heart had broken too many times. He didn't he could take more pain after that. But alas, luck wasn't on the side of sweet Peter Parker. Peter felt that his heart was beyond healing. He put up a smile on his face everyday but was shattered internally. He kept a brave face for his aunt. For Ned.

Peter stopped believing in love after that. He'd seen too much suffering on those who loved. That was until he met her. She was different. It was like she radiated joy and happiness just with a simple smile. Their meeting had been purely co incidental. He was at a pub with ned and Betty to celebrate the ending of college. He drank from his glass watching everyone around him dance around with joy. Everyone but him. Then he saw her. The golden girl. The ball of sunshine. She was with her friends dancing to the music. She laughed and threw her head back in joy. He was mesmerized by her. She noticed him staring and smiled. She walked over to him. "dance with me." He refused at first but after a pout from the girl he gave in.

I swear there was lightning coming from your eyes

Starting a fire in a hotel room

And yeah we were dancing, dancing to Bruno

And I couldn't turn away from you

She smiled brightly and pulled Peter onto the dance floor. She cheered at the sound of her favourite song. She danced for hours with Peter. He smiled. A true, happy smile. One he had never had in a long time. She made him feel happy although he had just met her. She made Peter dance till he laughed and felt free again. He looked at her once more and thought, I've never felt this way in a while.

Yeah I saw you smiling, breaking the silence

Telling me just what you want

There in the moment, I was reminded

I haven't felt this way in a while

The night ended with them exchanging numbers. She kissed his cheek and walked left. Peter started at the golden girl walk away. He could swear there were sparks flying when she smiled.

He went home with a smile and messaged her. She replied immediately. They spent the rest of the night chatting. Peter was starting to believe in love again.

Blinded by the sparks

We were driving around in the dark

Finding reasons to stay where we are

The second time Peter met her was when he was wandering late at night around a park where he saw her sitting on a bench looking at the stars. He sat down next to her and her lips upturned in a soft smile. She held his hand and pointed out the constellations in the sky. He couldn't take his off of her. She shone brighter than any star in the sky.

He stood up and offered to drop her home. They sat together in his car and drove around the dark streets. It was silent but calming. They exchanged a few words and enjoyed eachothers presence. They reached her house and she got off. She placed a kiss on his cheek and was about to leave when he grabbed her wrist and pressed his lips to hers. They pulled away and she blushed. "I really like you." He said softly. "I really like you too." She whispered close to his ear. She pressed one more kiss to his lips and walked to her door. Peter couldn't stop smiling that night.

All of my life I've been sleep-walk living

Running around the same bars I've been in

It can be so lonely in this city

But it feels different when you're with me

All of my life, it's been heartbreak weather

Thinking to myself it won't get better

It can be so lonely in this city

But it feels different when you're with me

Most of Peter's life had been filled with tragedies and heartache. He never felt such happiness before. All his life he'd been living in an endless loop. Getting up, working, eating and sleeping. He spent all his time running around the city alone, or third wheeling Ned and Betty, watching other couples in love. He never let himself love, until now. He drowned himself in drinks to forget. He never thought he'd get better, he'd be lonely living alone in a small apartment. But all that changed because of her.

Yeah, it was magic, you were a vision

Watching the way your body moves

Taking your clothes off, you look in the mirror

Telling me just what you want, and I

He took her out on dates and spent his evenings with her. Aunt may noticed a change in his behaviour. He was smiling. Happy, free,After so long.

One time they went on a road trip together. Shared their deepest secrets. She promised to stay by his side forever. She hugged him and fell asleep. There with her in his arms he felt loved. He felt safe.

Was blinded by the sparks

I was holding you close in the dark

Finding reasons to stay where we are

He occasionally had flashbacks of the loss of his mentor. He cried and she held him in her arms. She soothed him with soft words and loving words. Everytime Peter lost himself to the darkness, she was there to hold him and pull him back out. Then he knew that she would be by his side forever. He understood why people loved. It was worth it.

All of my life I've been sleep-walk living

Running around the same bars I've been in

It can be so lonely in this city

But it feels different when you're with me

All of my life, it's been heartbreak weather

Thinking to myself it won't get better

It can be so lonely in this city

But it feels different when you're with me

All his life Peter ran away from love but, now he didn't want to run. He moved from one bar to another trying to forget. Now he didn't need to. He had everything he ever wanted. All his life he hated the thought of loving. Now all he wanted was his one love to spend the rest of his life with her. He embraced love rather than pushing it away. Peter was happy. She made him happy.

You, that's what I've been missing

Was tangled up and twisted

Now all the clouds been lifted

Lately, my heart's been so empty

You, that's what I've been missing

Was tangled up and twisted

Now all the clouds been lifted

Lately, my heart's been so empty

He figured out that his heart had been aching because it yearned to hold someone in it. It desired to be loved and to love. All of Peter's thoughts had vanished when she entered his life. His walls had lifted. The clouds that blocked the warmth had disappeared. Her heart had been entwined with his and fulfilled it's desire. She saved him.

But it feels different when you're with me

It feels different when you're with me

She made feel wanted. It felt so good to feel that way. He visited the graves of his parents and father figures. It had been a while since he had. She stood back and waited. He smiled at her and told them about her. How he was finally happy. He, for the first time looked at their graves with a smile rather than guilt.

All of my life it's been heartbreak weather

Thinking to myself it won't get better

It can be so lonely in this city

But it feels different when you're with me

She changed him for the better. Peter didn't know what he would do without her. He thought he would drown, but she came like a breath of fresh air and pulled him out of the water and gave him a new life. He felt different, loved around her.

It feels different when you're with me

She was the one he loved.

lmk if you want to be tagged!

[oisaaac]

“ Six feet under ”

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Summary: Crowley decides to pay a little visit to his one and only love.

Warnings: angst, character death, sad boi crowley

Notes: English isn't my native language, so sorry for any mistakes this hasn't been proofread either.

This is very out of the blue and maybe a little cliché idk, but i hope some of you enjoy it nonetheless <3

kinda off from the original show plot but try to bare with me uwu

inspired from billie eilish's song 'six feet under'

Help, I lost myself again

But I remember you

Thick heavy grey clouds shrouded above the cemetery as if it read Crowley's mood. It was the same heavy weight he felt everyime he decides to pay you a visit. The same weight that seems to get heavier as time ticks by.

It had been a year since you died. A year that seems to be dreadfully longer than the time Crowley stayed above earth.

It was always a reminder for him how different his celestial form is from a human being like you. You always joked around that he had to see you die at some point—with grey hair and wrinkling skin while he didn't age even a bit, yet look where he is now.

He didn't expect it to come too soon, too fast, too sudden and too painful. It made him think what was really God's ineffable plan? He couldn't even ask it himself. Besides it was ineffable after all.

He should've seen this coming though. A demon falling in love with a human? Both of you knew things can't get normal. For one he was an immortal under a lot of circumstances and you on the other hand was—fragile. The moment you saw the bright light when you were brought to this world you were already hanging on a thin thread. Surviving for only a small barrowed time. Crowley always thought it was some kind of inside joke made by God, a very cruel joke.

Small droplets started to fall down from the sky as Crowley stood looking at the flowers he have in his hands.

You would've loved this. He thought to himself kneeling down on the moist grass, not bothered by the uncomfortable feeling of the contact with his jeans before staring at your grave stone.

It still feels unreal for him, seeing your name precisely carved on the stone which made his heart wrenched.

Retrace my lips

Erase your touch

It's all too much for me

But Crowley knew he would rather feel the pain in his chest over and over again rather than forget about you even if he could never be the same when he was with you.

His closest friend Aziraphale felt pity for the demon, but loving someone always has a cost to pay and he could only give much reassurance to his dear friend. Besides, he was somehow at fault considering you died in his shop trying to help him. Crowley didn't blame the angel though, knowingly you wouldn't either, but that didn't stop him from blaming himself and giving the silent treatment to the angel (which Aziraphale understood where he was coming from) for months. You would have opposed to if you knew, knowing their friendship was one of the strongest bonds you had ever seen. Luckily they were good now yet Crowley still needed more time to mourn.

You were always so kind and gentle, one of the traits Crowley loved about you. Good or bad you seem to look surpass every label knowing it was more than just what they perceive. To you Crowley isn't just the demon who had fallen to spread evil, he was your Crowley; your sassy kind hearted loving demon. He never wanted to have such vulnerability, but he let himself otherwise.

Of course he didn't regret any of it. He would need to die first before he ever regrets choosing a path with you in it. Even if he knew the moment you walked in Aziraphale's bookshop clumsily waltzing in his life only to bring this kind of pain he was currently feeling he would never choose of you not being a part of him. If only he could have had more time just one more second to see you smile, to feel your soft touch, to look directly into your loving eyes that made him feel like he was home. It sometimes brought Crowley anxiety with the thought that he didn't deserve what he was feeling with you—the joy, appreciation and love, yet you always said that he did, he did deserve happiness but the tragedy that comes with it had come unforeseen.

Blow away

Like smoke in air

How can you die carelessly?

Why did you have to go inside? Why didn't you just wait for me. You were human afterall. You weren't built to withstand heavy flames and thick smokes. You've always been so reckless for the sake of others. You knew it was dangerous, but you risked your life nonetheless.

Crowley laid the flowers near your headstone before he caressed the letters of your name closing his eyes trying to remember every detail of your face.

"Just for a second. If you're really listening to everyone's prayer then bid mine. Just for a second. Look at me you've foresaken me and let me fall into the pit yet here I am calling out for you." He looked up calling out to somebody, something or someone who was listening to his mantra. "Please!" He choked through the verge of tears. "I love her. I'll always will. If this is my sin then punish me for eternity, but let me see her just for a second." The only response a low rumble of thunder and finally the heavy clouds opened its gates letting the rain freely fall from the heavens camouflaging Crowley's tears.

They're playin' our sound

Layin' us down tonight

And all of these clouds

Crying us back to life

But you're cold as a night

It was no use. You're gone. The pain settled in his chest eating his insides. It was his punishment after all.

Crowley was soaked by the time he was snapped out of his small trance. He fixed the flowers on your grave before putting the individual red rose in the middle remembering how much you loved that red flower then grabbing the old ones to dispose them before standing up and taking one last glance of you until his next visit.

He whispered his promise that he would come back over and over for the rest of his eternity, he had all the time in his hands anyways.

Six feet under

I can't help but wonder

If our grave was watered by the rain

Bloom

Bloom

Again

Crowley turned around to head over his bentley only to be met by your e/c eyes. He didn't even realized his grip on the flowers loosened as he blinked once, twice, more than enough to make sure he wasn't seeing things while raining and there you were like an epiphany standing on your red dress drenched in rain smiling like an idiot at him. You took deliberate steps closing in the gap between the two of you while you kept your eyes locked on his yellow serpent eyes that you grew to love.

"Y/n," Crowley whispered still trying to figure out how.

"Crowley," You put your hand on his cheeks caressing his wet skin with your thumb. You didn't even understood how, but you were happy. You missed him so much that you didn't say another word and just leaned in connecting your lips with his he didn't respond at first, but slowly he recognized you. It was really you, his beloved y/n. He had so many questions hanging on the back of his head, but he didn't dare to utter any of them. He didn't want to let you go and waste whatever miracle it was that brought you here.

All the muscles in each of your bodies molded into one. You and Crowley were in sync like a melody that you both practiced over and over again. Your hands made its way on the back of his neck tangling your fingers on his wet ginger locks, Crowley's hands gripped you tight yet at the same time gently trying not to break you under his touch. The intensity of yearning and all the other emotions that comes with it all swirled into one.

Out of breath you both parted staring at eachothers eyes. "I love you too." You softly spoke your truth.

Maybe whatever was up there was really listening. Either way Crowley held on you to the very last second of your borrowed time.

"We'll be together again someday." You reassured him while you smiled. Crowley just studied your face and for the first time in a while genuinely smiled and was happy. And it was enough as goodbye for the both of you... for now.

Help, I lost myself again

But I remember you

Kinda long A/N: honestly idk what to feel about this if its good or not in my 19 years of existence i always wrote fanfics imagines and stuffs but usually i usually put it up then delete it later because i dont have any confidence of my work but im trying again. this is my first time posting in tumblr though.i hope this is good, like it gave you feels because it did when i wrote it. please don't kill me that i made crowley straight oof 🥺 sorry for any mistakes again! thank you for taking time on reading this and if you reblog and press the heart thingy thank you so much i will love you forever 💕

[joannalannister]

Anonymous asked:

Hey! It’s me again, your GOT secret Santa. Could you please elaborate on what aspects of the Tywin/Joanna ship you like? They’re not a ship I’ve ever written for, so I’d appreciate it if you could tell me why you like them so much. Anyways, I hope things are going great with you and that you’re getting ready for the holidays 😊

I love Tywin and Joanna because this ship is ASOIAF in its simplest form, stripped down to the bare bones, the meaning made plain. 

In my opinion, ASOIAF is different from a lot of other fantasy I’ve read because it doesn’t focus on a magic system, and it doesn’t focus on a great war (we still barely even know anything about the Others). 

ASOIAF is different; ASOIAF is about what makes us human. (Even GRRM’s term for the enemy, Other, comes back to this central theme of our humanity, because it suggests that humanity is fighting against something other than human beings, something un-human, something inhumane.) 

Tywin is one of the most un-human human beings in the entire series. He’s also the villain that we get the most information about, and he still looms large over the text even in death. (Even in the brief glimpses of TWOW that he’s shared, GRRM keeps bringing him up.) GRRM has shown us all of these monstrous things about Tywin, but in doing so, he’s made the tiny glowing embers of Tywin’s humanity burn like the beacons of Minas Tirith. 

It’s our joy and our love and our laughter that make us human. It’s our sorrow and our pain. But more than all that, our humanity is the connections we make to other people. It’s shared joy, shared love, shared laughter. Shared sorrow. Our compassion. To build a society is to connect people, to share with others. Tywin and Joanna is a society of two. 

(That weirwood net of shared consciousness fascinates me - it’s an idea GRRM has written about before in his other works, and he keeps coming back to it.)  

So those handful of smiles: for his wife, for the birth of his (first two) children, for his greatest accomplishments (gruesome as they are). 

And the pain in this passage: “when Aerys II announced Ser Jaime's appointment from the Iron Throne, his lordship went to one knee and thanked the king for the great honor shown to his house. Then, pleading illness, Lord Tywin asked the king's leave to retire as Hand.” 

And the utter and absolute pain in this one: “With her death, Grand Maester Pycelle observes, the joy went out of Tywin Lannister, yet still he persisted in his duty.” 

It’s like a shot glass filled with sorrow. In AGOT through ADWD, the sorrow in those books is slow; it’s (mostly) meant to be sipped, and savored. But the way we experience Tywin’s pain, as GRRM writes it, it’s quick and it burns, and it burns out just as quickly as we move on to Tywin’s next atrocity. 

So, for me at least, Tywin and Joanna are like a distilled version of ASOIAF. It’s the moments we share that make us human, and when Joanna died, Tywin’s humanity died with her. 

That might not be the most helpful thing for writing a fanfic, so let me give you some other reasons:

My favorite short story is “The Last Rung on the Ladder”. I think I first read it ~20 years ago, and it still haunts me. It hurts. It’s about a brother and sister. It’s about taking things for granted, about the people we depend on, and about what happens when those people are no longer there. 

“You're my big brother. I knew you'd take care of me.” “Oh, Kitty, you don't know how close it was.” [...] “No,” she said. “But I knew you were [...] there.”

Maybe this applies to Jaime and Cersei too, and Tywin/Joanna are just a different iteration, but it’s what keeps me coming back: what happens when the people you depend on ... the people you think are always going to be there ... what happens when those people -- those lifelines -- are gone? 

Despite Tywin being (imo) a very social person, I think Tywin had very few real friends. In addition to being his wife, Joanna was Tywin’s friend, someone he could talk to, and confide in, and trust. Someone who made it all real. Someone who made it worth it. 

And I think Tywin thought Joanna would always be there, the same way that everyone in AGOT-ASOS thought Tywin would always be there, “eternal as Casterly Rock”. I think Tywin always imagined that Joanna would outlive him, like it never occurred to him that she would die first, but instead she died when he was in his early 30s. That’s life-shattering to have the rug pulled out from under you like that.  

Similarly, I think Joanna had this idea that she and Tywin would be together, but instead he was “often away”. We’re told that they were children together at Casterly Rock, but then at ~10 Tywin was sent away to be Aegon V’s cupbearer, and later he went away to war on the Stepstones, and then after her wedding Joanna had to be sent away because of Aerys, and we have Tywin sent to Lys at some point. What did it mean to her, that Tywin wasn’t there? For Joanna, I don’t necessarily think that Tywin not being there was entirely a bad thing, at least eventually, although I imagine it was painful at first. I think these forced separations from Tywin allowed her to grow, allowed her to eventually rule the Westerlands in Tywin’s name while he was away. 

The thing that I always think of when I think about Tywin and Joanna is this poem, “Mrs. Beast” by Carol Ann Duffy, and I always think of this line, “Bring me the Beast for the night. Bring me the wine-cellar key. Let the less-loving one be me.” The more loving one is Tywin in my mind, no doubt about it. (I played with this poem for Tywin/Joanna here.) 

There’s this scene I imagine in my own fanfiction, about a year before Joanna’s death, where there’s these silent tears, this despair on Joanna’s face, and Jaime asks his mother why she’s crying, and she says, “Because your lord father is home.” 

I think Joanna always loved Tywin, to the very end, but Tywin is a difficult person to live with. I think his homecomings eventually became bittersweet. On the one hand, the love of her life has come home to her across hundreds of miles through snow, through bandits etc, but on the other hand, whenever Tywin comes home, Joanna has to take a back seat. Tywin sucks all of the oxygen out of the room. Everyone has to take a back seat to Tywin: “It has been hard for Kevan, living all his life in Tywin's shadow. It was hard for all my brothers. That shadow Tywin cast was long and black, and each of them had to struggle to find a little sun.“

This is all kind of leading into another reason I like Tywin/Joanna in that it’s an exploration of gender roles, and the ... the limits that women are under in Westeros, even under the very best circumstances. With Joanna, she’s white, she’s filthy rich, she’s a top-tier noblewoman, she’s beautiful. Contrasted against Rhaella, Joanna has a husband who loves her so much that we get lines about Joanna ruling Tywin and how this man who never ever smiles smiled for her. But there are still limits. We’re told that Tywin was ruled at home by his lady wife. Joanna’s influence is restricted, it’s dependent on what power Tywin gives her. While Rhaella physically was confined to Maegor’s Holdfast, Joanna’s influence is confined to the domestic sphere. 

Westeros is a broken place, one that’s always been broken into little pieces (Seven Kingdoms, not one). Westeros breaks people. Like Mrs. Beast in the poem, I think Joanna was able to forget, for a time, about the world’s abused women. She was able to forget that Westeros breaks people, and that it especially breaks women. I think Joanna thought she was the exception, that she would have more, achieve more, do more ... and eventually I think she hits a wall, realizing that Tywin is her limiting factor, even as he lifts her up and grants her the power to do. 

It’s these limits that fascinate me about House Lannister as a whole. Like, the Lannisters are introduced to us as infinite. (Thinkin about this a lot lately.) Bottomless wealth, eternal life, unfathomable beauty, all I do is win win win. But over the course of the books GRRM knocks all of this down and shows us that there is a finite quality to House Lannister. Tywin dies. With Jaime, I think GRRM is exploring the limits of redemption imo. Cersei is going to hit a wall. It’s that the culture of House Lannister, their fundamental values -- they don’t work. 

Tywin is the poster boy of Westeros - he is the feudal system, he’s the face of its misogyny, he’s the walking embodiment of classism and income inequality and privilege and everything horrible about Westeros. 

I don’t think it was ever possible for Joanna to be dealt a winning hand with Tywin, The system is rigged against women, and a woman would have to break the system entirely to win. But Tywin is the system, so it just doesn’t work. 

I think of Joanna as a tragedy. 

um.

idunno if any of that is helpful, but i sure wrote a lot. Also, I really like power couples and courtly intrigue and stuff like the Borgias. Hopefully that helps a little bit, I’m so sorry. 

If you want to read other stuff I wrote, I collect my Tywin x Joanna writings under this tag:

#tjmeta

And these tags might also be useful: #joanna meta and #tywin meta

I’m so sorry, please know that I will absolutely love whatever you write! There are so few fics of Tywin/Joanna that I am excited for anything. 

(Also I hate Aerys and he can go fuck himself. I think that Tywin tried to see Joanna as a person, as much as a man in such a deeply misogynistic society can see a woman as a person. I think Aerys saw Joanna as a battlefield. Also I really hate the theory that Tyrion is Aerys’s. Really hate that.)

Ok, im sorry, ILU SANTA! I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING BEING DONE WITH YOUR FINALS AND HAVING A BREAK!!!