#where-are-you-everywhere

[heathenarmyimagines]

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: Ivar needs to track his wife and save his marriage.

Pairing: Not telling

Part One

Ivar had been in an absolute rage since (Y/N) left the house. The worst thing was that she had been in such a hurry to get away from him that she had left her phone on the charger, so he couldn’t even call her.

He couldn’t track her, all he could do was call his own private investigator and hope his outrageous price was enough to motivate the man to work hard and fast.

Even still, with every minute that passed his anger was growing. He paced in his bedroom restlessly as he waited for his phone to ring, but it was as silent as prayers.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!

Ivar nearly broke his neck, turning to (Y/N)’s phone as it chimed on the floor by the bed.

He picked it up and saw it wasn’t a phone call, but an alarm going off.

6:30AM Antidepressants for breakfast :(

Ivar read the name of the alarm five times before he turned it off, when he did he saw even more oddly named alarms that weren't turned on.

7:30AM Online Therapy

12:30AM Eat or you will starve

5:00PM Cook Ivar’s Dinner

7:00PM Throw Away Ivar’s Dinner

8:00PM Antidepressants for Dinner

10:00PM Burn Book Entry

What the hell was this, Ivar thought as he read them over again and again.

Antidepressants?

He ran to the master bathroom and opened (Y/N)’s medicine cabinet, sure enough there were prescription pill bottles. They were right in front, but Ivar had never noticed them before, he never paid attention before.

He took a picture of the bottles and sent them to his family’s private doctor and called the old man as well.

‘Yes, Master Ivar? Is there an emergency with your wife?’ the old doctor asked groggily.

‘What are these medications you have been giving (Y/N) behind my back, Floki?’ Ivar accused.

‘I didn’t do anything behind your back; I get paid to treat members of your family. It's not my fault you forgot to treat your wife like she was family now.’ Floki yawned on the other end.

‘Excuse me?’ Ivar asked, anger rising again.

‘Don’t act like I just told you fire is cold boy, you haven’t paid the poor girl a speck of attention. The fact that I’m only getting this call after all these years treating her is proof enough.’ Floki said bluntly.

Ivar’s ears were burning in shame and anger, the same way they did when he was a child getting scolded.

‘What are these medications?’ Ivar asked again.

‘Antidepressant, Mood stabilizer and an Appetite stimulant. Ivar, your wife has developed severe depression over the last two years, the first two she’s been taking for a while, they cause loss of appetite so the stimulants are new since she has been losing weight too rapidly recently.’ the doctor explained.

‘Why am I just hearing about this?’

‘I can only give information I’m asked for, why are you just now asking? Is (Y/N) well?’

Ivar bit his lip angrily before explaining he wanted his wife’s full medical history in his email at once.

Before Floki could reply Ivar ended the call and went back to looking at the pill bottles in wonder and disgust.

He had been given a summary of (Y/N)’s health before he’d chosen her to be his wife, and while he didn’t remember things like her date of birth, he would have recalled if she had been diagnosed before the wedding.

Was being married to him so horrible it impacted her health so severely?

Ivar picked up her phone again, taking in the lock screen, a picture of her and her parents on a balcony. She stood between them, arms over their shoulders and a wide smile across her face.

Her phone didn’t have a lock code so Ivar didn’t feel too bad when he sat on the bed and began snooping. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for really, but he was sure he’d find something of value.

Preferably, he’d find a clue about where she would go so late.

Ivar started with the messages and was surprised at how few conversations there were to see; she spoke mostly to her parents, and there were other short exchanges between his family members and staff.

He opened the messages between (Y/N) and her mother, they seemed to talk at least once a week.

Mom: Are you eating?

(Y/N): At least one full meal and a vitamin in the morning.

Mom: That isn’t enough, call me right now!

It was at that moment that Ivar realized that she could only have gone to her parents house a few blocks away.

He clicked on her conversation with himself and was disgusted by what he saw, of course these messages were on his own phone but he never looked at them like this. Like he was looking for a warning sign that (Y/N) wanted a divorce.

(Y/N): I made pasta, and I tried a new recipe this time.

Ivar: K

(Y/N): I left your plate in the fridge

Ivar: I have a dinner reservation with Maggie

(Y/N): I understand

Ivar: We have a Gala tomorrow, don’t embarrass me

(Y/N): I will wear what Margrethe sends me.

Ivar set the phone aside and rubbed his face tiredly.

Even to himself he sounded like a dick in those messages; ignoring her, demanding things of her, talking down to her. Ivar could remember typing these responses, just a quick few taps on his phone to convey a message while he walked around his office building. He never liked texting so he always kept things brief, but he usually put in an effort to be civil in messages.

Why hadn’t he taken the time to read these before he sent them, Ivar thought to himself; because he shouldn’t have to. (Y/N) was already his wife, there shouldn’t need to be discomfort, she should be able to understand him.

(Y/N) was the one keeping secrets and plotting to divorce him. He shouldn’t have to grab his keys and rush over to her parents’ house, but he does it all the same.

Ivar parked in their humble driveway and stared at the house in defiance.

Ivar quickly reminded himself who he was, a wealthy man picking up his wife after she threw a dramatic tantrum. He wasn’t here to apologize or explain himself, if anything (Y/N) should be the one explaining why she waited so long to inform him about her diagnosis.

She was the one keeping secrets in their marriage.

With that in mind he got out and approached the door to knock but it opened before he even made it to the porch.

‘You are not welcome here!’ his mother in law shouted as she stormed out into the night to meet him face to face.

She had fire in her eyes and her fists were balled as she advanced on him, making Ivar immediately freeze in place.

‘You sign those papers and you leave my girl the fuck alone, do you hear me Ragnarson?’ she said angrily, poking Ivar hard in the chest.

Ivar looked worse off than a deer in headlights, a more appropriate comparison would be a fish in a barrel.

Of course he hadn’t seen his in-laws since the rushed wedding, but this mad woman had looked happy enough to marry (Y/N) off to him then. So why is she giving him such a disgusted look now?

‘I-I came to pick up (Y/N).’ he managed to say.

‘Absolutely not! My daughter will not be going anywhere with you. She is going to stay here, her eyes shouldn’t land on you outside of a courthouse! Honestly, what were we thinking when we accepted your mother’s proposal?’ the woman scoffed.

‘Honey!’

This time it was his father in law coming out of the house, immediately taking the place beside his wife.

Ivar watched the older couple communicate silently, him sending her a look that made her take a deep breath.

‘Ivar, my wife has made our decision more than clear. Even still; I will apologize for her unprofessional language.’ Mr. (Y/L/N) said stiffly in a formal tone.

Unprofessional? These were his in-laws, sure it was attached to a business deal, but nonetheless these were supposed to be his extended family members. From what he’s heard from other men in the office, his mother in law was probably never going to like him; but he felt the formal tone wasn’t necessary.

‘(Y/D/N), I’m here to pick up my wife.’ Ivar said again, standing up straighter. If he was going to be spoken to like a random business partner then he’d return the courtesy.

‘I’m sorry, but you will not be doing that.’ the old man said firmly.

Ivar knew what this was, it was his favorite thing in the world.

A challenge.

Ivar knew what it was when he suddenly felt the power struggle between himself and (Y/N)’s father.

‘Won’t I? Sir?’ Ivar asked smugly.

‘You won’t. My daughter has already told us that she’s asking for a divorce, and quite frankly I believe it is about time.’ (Y/D/N) said plainly.

‘Past time, you’re lucky she stayed for as long as she did.’ the mother added in.

Ivar looked away for a split second, unable to face the righteous tone of his father in law, before he put his mask back up.

‘Excuse me? I’d hate to leave here alone and cancel all our existing contacts.’ Ivar challenged.

‘We had a very beneficial business partnership for a few years, but my daughter is more important. Cancel whatever you like, I can build another company.’

‘Leave the contracts.’

This time all three of them turned and saw (Y/N) coming out of the house. Her eyes were puffy from crying but they were hard, her expression stone solid as she looked at him in distaste.

‘(Y/N), we can start fresh with a new business; it’ll be even easier this time, you’ve done enough.’ (Y/M/N) pleaded with her daughter.

‘If we do that what did I waste the last four years for? I’ll be fine this time, I promise.’ (Y/N) said soothingly.

‘(Y/N)!’ the mother cried in desperation as she tried to physically pull her child back into the house.

‘Mom, don’t worry. I will come by sometime later this week.’ (Y/N) said, placing a kiss on her mother’s cheek.

She did the same to her father, Ivar could hear the old man offer to shut everything down now, and he heard her decline the offer.

When (Y/N) turned to face him she looked right through him, walking past him without speaking and getting into his car.

‘Ivar.’ (Y/F/N) said, regaining his attention.

‘Sign the papers, do her that one kindness.’ he advised.

‘She is my wife.’ Ivar said weakly.

‘I’ve seen wet shits make for a better husband than you, Ivar Ragnarson. If the world was fair she never would have ended up with scum like you, she would be home, healthy and happy.’ his mother in law said coldly before she stormed back into the house and slammed the door closed.

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the silent night, but Ivar kept his poker face firm as again his father in law faced him.

‘When I was your age, I knocked down any man who upset my wife. Lucky for you those days are in the past, but that is my daughter in your car. If she ever comes home the way she did tonight…there is not enough money in your bank to keep me at bay. Are we clear son?’

Ivar tilted his head.

‘Are you threatening me?’ Ivar asked partially in amusement, but mostly in pure disbelief.

‘I’m telling you as a father, there will be severe consequences if I see her in that state ever again. Are. We. Clear?’ the older man said, his tone even and his eyes wild.

Ivar felt the severity of the man’s words and he chose not to respond, silently walking to the car.

He held his breath until he heard the front door close behind him before he got into his car.

In the passenger seat (Y/N) sat in silence and she didn’t even seem to notice him sitting beside her.

‘Are you satisfied now that you put on your show? Made a big scene for your parents?’ Ivar began to scold as they were on the way back home.

‘Shut up Ivar.’

Ivar was lucky they were at a stop sign, he imagined he would have crashed had the car been moving when she said it.

‘What did you just say?’ he asked.

‘Shut up. You hate talking to me so just shut up, make it easy on us both.’ (Y/N) said, looking out her window in boredom.

‘Is it the medication you hide from me that’s making you think you can speak to me this way.’

This time she scoffed a little laugh.

‘Yes the pills I hid in the front of my cabinet, how ever did you discover my secrets?’ she said sarcastically.

‘Stop this.’ Ivar demanded.

‘The only thing I’m going to stop doing is wasting time trying to be a good wife to you. If you insist on keeping this sham marriage then fine; but I’m done participating in it.’ she said, never looking away from the window.

Her tone was so dry and dead it seemed to echo in the silence that followed it.

Ivar drove the rest of the way home in silence, watching her in his peripheral vision. (Y/N) didn’t move, she didn’t talk, she didn’t cry; Ivar was almost sure she didn’t even blink.

She just sat with her forehead against the passenger window and stared silently.

When he parked in their driveway she still sat still as stone.

‘Did you want to stay in the car all night, or are we finally going to sleep?’ Ivar asked in annoyance.

She didn’t reply to him at all, just opened the door and got out. Ivar followed behind her and watched as she lazily walked to the door and waited for him to unlock it.

Her eyes were focused on the sky, specifically the sun that was beginning to rise. She looked at it for as long as she could before she followed Ivar inside and he closed the door.

‘I never want to hear the word divorce come out of your mouth again. And tomorrow I will be taking you to Floki for a full check up.’ Ivar instructed as he at last took off his shoes.

‘Why? You think Floki gave me something that made me act out of line? Or are you actually worried about my health?’

‘Of course I’m-‘

Ring! Ring! Ring!

His phone rang shrilly, interrupting whatever he was trying to say; and eager for a way out of this uncomfortably vulnerable conversation, Ivar hurriedly answered.

He knew only one person would be bold enough to call him at this hour.

‘Maggie?’

Ivar turned away from (Y/N) to give his full focus on the phone call, the way he always did.

‘Ivar! Me and my friend got too drunk at the restaurant, can you pick us up?’ Margrethe said loudly on the other end, going in and out of a horrible singing voice as she spoke.

‘I’ll be there in thirty.’ he sighed tiredly, already begrudgingly going to put his shoes back on.

‘I’m going to drop off Maggie, we’ll talk in the morning.’ Ivar said over his shoulder as he went to leave, but he stopped when he didn’t get a reply.

When Ivar turned around all he saw was an empty foyer.

‘(Y/N).’ he called once more before he went upstairs to find her gathering the remains of her soggy forgotten salad.

She went to walk past him to presumably throw out the trash but Ivar stopped her by grabbing her arm.

‘I’ll be back soon, we’ll talk more in the morning.’ he announced.

‘No we won’t, something will happen with your favorite “family friend” and you won’t show up. I don’t know what yet, could be a stomach virus that needs hospital treatment, or an urgent meeting she forgets to reschedule; whatever it is doesn’t matter.’ (Y/N) dismissed with audible certainty.

He let go of her arm just to run his hands down his face.

‘Why do you always insist on bringing Margrethe up? This, our marriage, has nothing to do with her.’ he said, this time preparing for whatever argument she had.

‘Have you ever told her that?’

Ivar was stunned into silence by the question.

(Y/N) pulled her arm out of his grasp and continued on her way to the kitchen to throw away her salad.

Ivar followed her and he saw her roll her eyes in annoyance when she saw him behind her.

‘Why are you even still here right now, Ivar? Don’t you have a damsel in distress to save?’ she asked as she began to clean her dirty dishes.

Ivar felt a rush of undignified anger wash over him, he had to bite back a sharp response to keep his anger in check. Before he could reply he felt his phone ring again in his pocket.

‘Tick tock Ivar, I’ll be sleeping in the guest room when you get back; and don’t pester me today. I’m sleeping in until the bed makes me sore, then I’m going out with my family for lunch, and my sister is taking me out clubbing.’ she said as she placed her bowl and fork in the drying rack.

‘Clubbing? Where?’ Ivar asked, he had never heard his wife even mention going anywhere other than the store.

‘Not telling you.’ she dismissed.

Again Ivar’s phone rang rudely before he could speak and it was all starting to annoy him, he couldn’t even have this important conversation right now.

‘We’re going to talk about this when I get back.’ he said firmly before he went to leave, but he heard her mumble to herself before he made it out of the kitchen.

‘We won’t.’

[cedriiii]

that one dynamic meme

[creampill]

If he isn’t like an overeager puppy, you ain’t writing your König right.

Massive, entirely unaware of it. Stumbling over himself when he sees you, bumping into your side whenever you walk together, always hunching and ducking. Uneasy on his feet but with the sweetest lopsided smile. When he wants to run, he can, breaking into a full sprint that becomes terrifying- but around you, he softens. Just wanting to be close so badly that he can’t help but get clumsy.

Perking up whenever he sees you, too. That same big dumb grin, eyebrows shooting up like piqued dog ears, wobbly posture as if shook by his wagging tail. Eyes that say “hi, hello, what are we doing? I’m happy to see you! Hello!” Even when his words fail him and he just warbles out an accented rendition of your name. And if the boundaries are down and he can touch, rest assured he will be coming in for a cuddle or a headpat or just a warm hand on your arm.

He gets a bit pouty and needy, too. Of course, he’s a grown man. He understands that you need friends to have a healthy life, and he would hate to get in the way of that. But sometimes, seeing you go out with your buddies, he… gets an ache. He wants to be there. You need space, he knows that, but… he just hates to miss your smiles.

And god forbid you’re ever in trouble. Because he goes from puppy to guard dog very fast. All that excited, enamoured energy distills down to a cool rage inherent in his very bones. Big paws and teeth used to gently bat and play become a silent threat, arms over his chest, imposing like a shadow.

But when the threat passes, and he looks at you with those big eyes, proud and confident that he did his job? Please give him plenty of kisses and praise. He’ll melt all the way back to a puppy again.

💖 my inbox is open! send requests!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 352

“Mother, I crave violence,” a small child interrupts the video call, practically clambering up into Nightingale’s chair. They look around five or so, with white hair and red eyes. Albino perhaps? 

“Ah, apologies, let me take care of this real quick,” Nightingale turns the microphone off when he gets a few acknowledging noises, picking the small child up and moving them from the room. 

“Cute kid,” Barry acknowledged from behind his coworker’s head, having been helping move things. Actually, the kid looked kind of familiar, though from where, who knew. Hard to remember everything with how fast his thoughts usually went. “I didn’t know Nightingale was a father…” 

Then again the specialist was notoriously private, and set most meetings online thanks to some sort of medical conditions. So he supposed it would make it easier to be a stay at home dad if he was there already…

[flowersforthemachines]

|| Companion skill animations (+ bonus Rook)

[kvothes]

louise glück was a tremendous poet in her own life and also taught, advised, and nurtured uncountable other poets. her picking richard siken’s crush for the yale younger poets prize is a well known fact, but she selected a number of other poets for publication during her tenure as the contest judge that i think are worth knowing.

peter streckfus, cuckoo (2003)

richard siken, crush (2004)

jay hopler, green squall (2005)

jessica fisher, frail-craft (2006)

fady joudah, the earth in the attic (2007)

arda collins, it is daylight (2008)

ken chen, juvenilia (2009)

katherine larson, radial symmetry (2010)

poetry is a community! read her—and also read the poets she wanted to promote.

[benevolenterrancy]

~ Extremely Unwilling Magical Protagonists Attempt To Outrun The Plot And Not Fucking Die ~

(@takofukkatsumi this tag is from a while ago but it hasn't left my brain -- L-Space got very weird all of a sudden)

[diabolichare]

Is this courtship?

Danny is going to Gotham for his scholarship.

Good news! There's another halfa in the city, and he seems to be a good guy. Bad news: the nearest path to his university is through that halfta's haunt. He could take the long way around, but the costs would be more than his budget can handle, and he'd like to avoid dealing with a pissed-off Red Hood.

Hopefully the offerings will be enough to sate his annoyance (and help maybe, god that man has the most malnourished core he's ever seen).

Meanwhile, Jason is getting incredibly confused over the strange gift baskets that keep appearing on his patrol routes.

[plutoonwheels]

in the trenches I offer up guard Nicole au

[heathenarmyimagines]

Happily Divorcing You

Title: Happily Divorcing You

Summary: Ivar has been an awful husband, but he never expected his wife would ever want to leave him.

Pairing: Not telling

___________________________

Four years.

It had been four long and lonely years of being married to one of the richest men in the country, Ivar Ragnarson. Four years of ignored phone calls, public humiliation, cruelty and dismissive comments.

When the marriage was first proposed something in your gut told you to run, but then you saw him. Him in his well fitting suit and his electric blue eyes; you thought to yourself, if you have to marry some stranger your dad picked, at least he’s attractive. You had even been foolish enough to imagine growing to love each other in due time, how stupid you had been.

Even in that first meeting his eyes never met yours, it was a business contract to him. His family required him to be married in order to receive his father’s inheritance, and your family had ‘an acceptable social standing’.

The wedding was rushed and small, the honeymoon nonexistent as Ivar went to work immediately after you both said “I do”

Now you were sitting on the stairs four years later, still watching the front door and waiting for it to finally open. You had been sitting there long enough for your fully charged phone to be on thirteen percent battery now, and still the door was unmoving.

‘He’d make me wait for even this wouldn’t he? At least he’s consistent.’ you scoffed as you picked up your file folder and stood to go upstairs.

Just then the door swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang, the noise was so sudden you nearly jumped out of your skin. Your heart began to slow down as you recognized Ivar standing in the doorway with his arm around a familiar petite blond.

'Oh, your wife was waiting up for you. How cute.' Margrethe smirked as she leaned impossibly closer to your husband.

‘Are the vultures starting to wait around for their meal already?’ Ivar asked in annoyance.

‘I know you don’t like me bothering you after work, but it’s important. We should discuss this in private.’ you said, holding up the folder.

‘Margrethe is my assistant, she sees every piece of paper with my name on it.’

At this you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, because of course he would never grant you the honor of speaking with him privately.

‘You’re right, don’t know what I was thinking. Well the summary is I need you to sign these immediately.’ you said as you held out the folder.

‘What is this?’ Ivar asked as he took the file folder.

‘Nothing important, just divorce papers.’ you shrugged casually as you walked past Ivar and his mistress on your way to the kitchen.

You had always imagined doing this would be harder, divorcing someone should feel like the world ending. Like losing a portion of yourself, it should feel like leaving your happy place.

You had been looking for things with happier memories that would make you want to stay, but there were no good memories in this house. The truth was finally saying it felt amazing; divorcing Ivar was the most fun you’d had since you met him.

‘Divorce?’ Ivar asked in what amusingly sounded like shock.

‘I already signed, just waiting on yours and then I can take them to city hall.’ you explained.

‘What game are you playing at now (Y/N)?’ Margrethe asked snobbily as she took the file from Ivar and began reading the Divorce Agreement.

‘Feel free to read it over before you sign, I’m not after alimony or any of your assets. Clean cut for everyone; we both go back to not knowing each other on and off paper. My family is certainly not as well off as yours but I’ll be comfortable without taking a singular cent from you, Ivar.’ you assured them as you began to prepare dinner.

You felt like having a large salad tonight.

‘Cut the dramatics, and tell me what you want.’ Ivar said as he followed you into the kitchen.

‘I already told you what I want, I want to divorce you Ivar. You have your inheritance, hell according to the business magazines you’ve tripled it in the last two years, so even losing it now wouldn’t matter. You got what you wanted from me, my family has thrived as well with your family’s influence but there are no current projects between our companies so now is the perfect time to do this.’ you reasoned, still moving around the kitchen preparing your meal.

‘The perfect time? Exactly how long have you been planning this?’ Ivar asked accusingly.

‘If you’re asking how long I've had the divorce papers signed…about a year. Didn’t want any scandals affecting any projects so I’ve just been waiting.’

Ivar felt a vein begin to bulge in his forehead as his frustration grew; he ran a hand down his face to try and ground himself before he said something in anger, but his tongue was too sharp for his own good.

‘So how much are you trying to get out of this? Because whatever the amount, you could just ask for it now without all this drama.’ he said nastily.

‘I already said I don't want your money Ivar, ask your assistant, she’s had her nose to the page the whole time.’

‘Wow, she’s really surrendering everything except her premarital assets. The cars, the jewelry, the houses and estates…everything but her bakery.’ Margrethe said, looking up smugly from the divorce papers for the first time.

‘It’s mine, I spent months on the menu, I designed the interior down the last floor tile. I’ve put more love into that bakery than you could imagine Margrethe; but you’re right. I’ll have my lawyer draw up a new agreement, hopefully those new terms are satisfactory enough to you.’ you said as you plated your salad beautifully.

‘When did you even open a bakery?’ Ivar asked in utter confusion, this was the first he’d heard of a bakery.

‘It doesn’t matter when it opened, you’ll close it down. Just let me know when you’re ready to sign the papers. I’ll be out of the house by noon tomorrow, and I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.’ you said, trying to walk past Ivar, but he grabbed your arm and stopped you.

‘I’m talking to you.’ he seethed.

‘Yeah for the first time in four years… and it’s too late. I don’t want to listen to what you have to say, Ivar; I don’t want anything from you except this divorce.’ you replied, pulling your arm out of his grasp.

‘I’ll enjoy my meal upstairs, I’m sure Margrethe won’t mind cooking you two a nice dinner…the candles are in the cabinet if you two want some mood lighting.’ you said coolly.

Margrethe made a smug face when she heard her name, but you didn’t feel any urge to even acknowledge her; so you took your salad, left the kitchen at last and went upstairs.

_______________________________

While you ate your meal Ivar stood in the kitchen right where you left him.

Divorce?

She had been all too eager to marry him when their families suggested it, now she was able to ask to divorce him without even looking at him.

‘Who the hell does she think she is? Mother Teresa? I told you that you shouldn’t have married the first girl your parents picked. She's too domestic for you.’ Margrethe snipped.

‘My parents didn’t pick her.’

‘What?’ Margrethe asked in horror as his words were processed.

‘I’m sorry Margrethe, I’ll get you an Uber back home, but I need to talk to (Y/N) right now.’ Ivar tried to follow behind his wife.

‘But what about our dinner reservation? It took almost two weeks to get it.’ Margrethe complained, grabbing onto Ivar’s arm gently.

Ivar cursed under his breath as he dug his wallet out of his pocket and gave it to his assistant.

‘Go with a friend.’ he said as he gave her one of his credit cards.

'But Ivar, we always have dinner together.' the blonde tried to remind him, linking their arms.

'Then we can reschedule this one, Maggie I need to speak with my wife tonight. Just go.' Ivar snapped impatiently, pulling away from her.

With that done he snatched the file from Margrethe and ran up the stairs; he needed to talk to his wife.

Ivar barged into the room and saw her on the floor in front of the bed eating her food and watching what looked like Game of Thrones on her phone while it was charging.

‘You don’t have to enter every room like there’s an assassin behind the door.’ she said as she paused her show.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Ivar asked.

‘Well I was trying to watch my show before I started packing, but if you want me to hurry at least let me finish my salad.’ she said as she went back to eating.

‘Stop playing games! Why are you asking me for a divorce?’ Ivar shouted in frustration.

‘Why would I stay, Ivar.’ she asked seriously, setting aside her plate and looking at Ivar fully.

Ivar felt as if her eyes had stabbed him in the chest, he had never seen such anger expressed solely with one's eyes.

‘Four years, and I’ve spoken to you more tonight than I ever have before. In fact I never speak to you outside of mandatory social events. Events where you humiliate me publicly by bringing another woman every time. How many times have I reminded your coworkers that I’m your wife and not Margrethe? Do you know? Because I don’t, I stopped correcting them last year…when I got the divorce papers.’ she said angrily as she stood.

‘So that’s what this is? Jealousy? You’re being ridiculous.’ he scoffed.

‘When is my birthday, Ivar?’ she asked directly.

Ivar opened his mouth to answer but no answer came out, because he didn’t have one. He had never even thought about her having a birthday to celebrate.

‘On Margrethe’s birthday last year, you made me go to the store and buy an emerald pair of earrings. Emerald because green is her favorite color, gold details so she knows it’s expensive, not too big so they’re comfortable to wear.’ she said as she walked closer to Ivar.

‘She is a family friend, and she has been working under me for seven years. I’m not having an affair with her.’ Ivar explained.

‘Maybe you aren't, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t love me, Ivar. You at least seem to like her more than me, so why not divorce me and see what happens with her. Maybe you’ll even want to sleep with her at night.’ (Y/N) practically snarled up at him.

‘I sleep with you every night!’ Ivar argued.

‘You creep in while I sleep and you sneak out before I wake up. You don’t speak to me, you don’t hold me, you don’t touch me. Hell sometimes you act like it sickens you to even look at me, so why are we doing this now?’ she seemed to be begging now more than arguing.

She looked like a woman at the end of her rope, her angry eyes were beginning to glisten with fresh hot tears.

‘I will never darken your doorway again, I won’t ask you for a dime- I’ll give up my bakery. I will do anything…so long as I don’t have to be yours.’

Ivar knew she had a point, in the back of his mind he always knew he wasn’t a good husband to (Y/N), but he never thought she would be the one to end it.

‘I will not sign the papers, not now or ever. You are my wife, you have been my wife for four years and you will be my wife for the rest of your life.’ Ivar said firmly as he stepped closer.

He stopped immediately when he saw her step back from him.

‘I don’t want to be your wife!’ she screamed as the tears finally began to fall down her cheeks.

‘I’m tired! More than that, I’m exhausted from walking on your fucking eggshells! I’m tired of waiting up for you, eating alone, waking up alone and feeling like dog shit on your shoe!’ she struggled to get the words out over her sobs, and once she had she just kept crying.

Ivar didn’t know what to do, she had never cried before, no matter how harsh he was, but now she cried hard and her sobs seemed to echo in the room.

He took a cautious step towards her and tried to do what he knew a good husband would, comfort her somehow, but she pushed him away.

‘No! Not now, after I finally got the courage to leave! I’m not doing this with you now!’ she said before she stormed out of the room.

‘Where are you going?’ Ivar asked as he followed her down the stairs.

(Y/N) stopped by the door and looked up at him still standing by the stairs.

‘I’m not telling you, I don’t want you to know where I am, or where I’m going. I don’t ever want to see you again after this divorce is finalized. Don’t bother even speaking to me outside of signing the papers, goodbye Ivar.’ she said before she removed her wedding ring and put it on the table.

‘(Y/N), I’m telling you not to leave.’

This time she didn’t argue or even acknowledge that she’d heard him speak at all; she just turned around, opened the door and left.

[siyaazu]

Ayo who put Your Lie in April into my sonadow??!!!!!

[javierduffy]

different.

[egophiliac]

Okay so I've been wanting to tell you that you're literally my favourite twst artist 😭🩷

So my question is, how do you manage to come up with these funny comics? CUZ I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

(P.s: Lovin' the art style ✨)

oh geeze, thanks! 💚💚💚 I'm really glad people enjoy my stupid sense of humor; mostly I just draw things to make myself laugh, and if it makes other people laugh too, then bonus points! usually it's just one joke or mental image that gets stuck in my head (every time I saw Fellow spin his cane, all I could think about was him go-go-gadgeting away on it...) and in my quest to justify it, it picks up other jokes and bits along the way and usually doesn't even end up as the main focus anymore. entire narrative arcs have spun out just so I could use a single bad pun in a throwaway line. this is a terrible way to explain it but I'm not sure how else to put it into words!

and sometimes it's just "weird things my sister has said that I make fun of her for"

[fukashiin]

ACEYUU WOKE ME FROM THE DEAD

book 7 spoilers <3 very long rant im sorry!!

it was never meant to be this way. when he was such an ass to us in the prologue, when he laid those pesky remarks upon us and immediately assuming that we got into NRC as a janitor because we weren't good enough without any prior knowledge of how we were brought here against our will and having to adapt to such an unfamiliar environment where everything - trends, names, history, and even the currency - were different. he didn't know about the throbbing headache we had while the headmage was explaining the school's curriculum and suddenly bringing up the word "magic" into the conversation like it was foreign language.

he thinks he's above us just because we're a clueless student who couldnt cast any spells and took up the miserable job just for the sake of money and to live. he had this one-way "not my problem!!" mindset about us that he dipped the moment after because he never would have suspected that we would grow to be something more important, something more irreplaceable in his life.

he never meant to test the waters, and he's drowning by mistake.

his concern for you gets more obvious as each book advances (or was it always obvious??). you're just an otherworlder oblivious to the dangers that lurk in twisted wonderland, so it's only casual for him to fret about when you've been taken into scarabia with minimal escape routes, to be the first one to notice that you were missing among the entourage of people that have been kidnapped, to be the only one to point out that you weren't in the best condition AND suggesting to bring you back home in case the party was all too much. he knows how vulnerable you are, and he jumps into action as quick as possible because that's basically his brand. nothing deeper!!! (unknown dangers lurk around you on the daily, but you lurk in his mind so much more than he lets on. you're probably more used to the dangers of magic than he's used to the thought of you occupying his mind 24/7. isnt that ironic)

and he didn't consider the complications of how dangerous it could be for the headmage to send us back to our original world, possibly damaging the very fabrics of time and space and ceasing to exist while transporting - he just instantly goes to the part where the news was positive and that we could travel between Twisted Wonderland and earth in one piece, blocking out his surroundings just to see your smile, as that was possibly the happiest you could have ever been in front of him.

imagine each time he hangs out with someone new, or if someone has gained a romantic interest in him once you've left, he tries to find a part of "you" in them in his peripheral vision. whether they have an ounce of bravery that you had, whether they're as understanding as you are to know that he isn't just a human built of jokes and pranks, whether they won't doubt him like the rest did - as you were the only one who truly believed in his capability to truly lead the rest out of danger.

he could beg for other people to believe in him, to see that his skills could draw out much more if he really wanted to, but he didn't have to do that with you. in a flashing moment of possible failure, he turned to you in a heartbeat, uncharacteristically, desperately calling out for you to save him because he had no idea what was happening. he almost started to lose himself and quickly realises that the power he was wielding so suddenly wasn't some lousy spell, that it could possibly cause someone's life, and you were there to steady him when he needed it the most. a rarity of a scene he entrusted his entire body to you with. you believed in him. you ARE the betterment of him.

you held his hand like a vow, to protect each other and strengthen through every obstacle and turmoil that drives you one step closer to becoming a better version of yourself. your hand, tightly coiled around his, radiated the warmth and comfort he needed in his times of darkness and inner conflict.

it should've been you. you're perfect.

and that's why his dream still has you in it. it doesn't have to be one way or the other, you can simply go back and forth to his world and your own in just a snap! he could never dream of you leaving his sight and grasp, hindering him from ever telling you how much you actually meant. he has all the time in the world.

and that's what he wants, but his heart says otherwise, and that's fine. he just wants you to be safe and see him for who he is. you inspired him to take pride in his name, as an ace can do anything!!

[methoughtsphantom]

halfas are the found family trope foster child

they all adopt each other. it’s the reason Vlad wanted so badly to have Danny as his son and the reason Danny immediately went with sure you’re my cousin now with Dani. it’s a survival mechanism from being so very few of their species. Sooo, halfa!Jason except he sorta isn’t yet cause Jason’s core is extremely ruptured from the lack of ectoplasm involved in his forceful resurrection. So when Danny finds Jason in his catatonic state he can’t quite tell the dude’s been dead and remains some, just that the guy for some reason seems very friend-shaped. Danny doesn’t mind his friend is braindead, and is also a john doe, he gives familiar vibes and that’s apparently enough for Danny to constantly find himself in the hospital doing his engineering homework on the room with the guy, and talking for hours about the updates on the absolute clusterfuck of the city and how he was from a freaking ghost town and he can almost even draw comparisons. he blabbers about how he’s not homesick enough times to even corner himself to talk about a ghost lore many times and how he’s just finding himself a little more prone to violence and in constant pain since none of the people he has adopted as his family are here with him and he can’t consider a place a lair if there’s isn’t someone of his in it.

But Danny could never drag someone with him just because of some it, after all it was Danny’s choice to come to Gotham to collage and not stay where at least his parents (good parents Jack and Maddie) were in Amity.

Ironically, Danny essentially can’t feel that his core has been spoon feeding ectoplasm to Jason. As months go on, the little ball of energy builds in anticipation practically vibrating in the waiting pulse of something (Danny doesn’t know but more often than not has he found himself laughing in happy confusion. it weirds him out in a good way) It’s really that he’s feeling the slow healing process of his friend (brother brother brother) ‘s core.Imagine it’s just about to properly, correctly heal when canon strikes back and Jason gets snatched by League assassins. Danny is left feeling like his core got torned out. His core had spend months helping another’s only to feel the other’s imprint and to not be able to protect it in return is— forget it being an obsession; thats like having your newborn baby being ripped out of your arms. An all assuaging feeling of helplessness that is devastating. Danny just beginning to feel like home lair when out of nowhere the rug is swept under him. Danny suddenly struggling to not flunk all his classes and beat every single liminal that he can feel crossing paths with him to the ground. Danny suddenly having his chronic pain (that hadn’t been so bad lately) dialed up to the point that there are just bearable and bad days.

The worse thing is he doesn’t know why.

Jason had only been a guy.

…

It’s only a three weeks before Jazz tells him she accepted a job offer in Gotham.

(and the guilt only makes him feel worse when he can feel himself feel better because of it)

…

now

whimsical time skip ✨

Danny is now on his feet again and friends with a Wayne of your choice (or maybe they were friends a little before Jay dissapeared and it was badTM cause Waynes? liminal 🥲) Danny definitely didn’t enjoy snapping off to his friend like that. anyways it’s been a year since that and he and his friend are having a grand time playing civvies, uhh let’s say dick because I want them to meet while ice skating, Also Dick because he definitely turns a blind eye when Danny goes airborne for a second there yep. He’s just having too much fun.

anyways as alwaysTM Danny doesn’t clock celebrities and like why would he, Dick is just the random guy who’s was fast to turn Danny’s slow day in the ice ring into a competition one day and brighten when Danny matched up his puns. So he totally doesn’t get why the guy’s so gloomy one day, anyways as you can figure, it’s Jason’s deathday and Dick is a deprecating bean, Danny tries to cheer him up by having him remember his brother instead and Dick attempts to, but even skipping through some photos in his phone make his eyes burn.

It is because of that that he doesn’t notice Danny absolutely freeze up at the photo of his friend Jay (Jay because he’s a John Doe, but that’s just too impersonal and so the first letter is J *wink wink*)

Danny absolutely doesn’t know what to do with this information, barely catches himself from asking Dick how did his brother die. Most importantly when because Danny just saw Jay—Jason less than a year ago, and this somehow doesn’t feel too recent.

Annd that how we find Danny digging into the Wayne second son tragedy. Staring at the date of death while the knowledge that they met almost six months after burns his forefront of his mind. Danny spends a day going over all the questions running through his mind over how the fuck he couldn’t sense Jay was a ghost—err was… in past tense?? what the fuck?? Danny would really like a refund on his ghost sense.

Anyways Danny goes check out the grave (now that he knows there is one) and boom although intangible he somehow triggers those shitty ass sensors/alarms that somehow didn’t go off when jason was literally digging himself out.

Obviously the bats get in the case immediately. And boy are they absolutely enraged that someone would steal Jason’s body.

[kithj]

some stories are written precisely to elicit strong emotions from the reader INCLUDING negative ones. some stories and characters are meant to be upsetting, they are meant to challenge you and make you uncomfortable!! when a story makes you feel Big Feelings sometimes you are meant to sit in those feelings and ask yourself why! fiction is a great space to explore these emotions in a safe environment. you, as the reader, are meant to think critically about the art you are enjoying and that includes asking yourself questions like why has the author presented their art in this way and what are they trying to tell me. and then you get to have fun picking it apart and figuring it out and deciding what, exactly, the art means to you.