#to be honest when I first watched it I felt a bit ... unfinished??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cocogrrrl · 11 months

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HIIIIIII ugh ur writings are so freakin good and so fun to read it makes me AHHHH could I request kyle, stan, and kenny (separate) with a f!reader that can’t control her facial expressions at all so she’s pretty much an open book? Maybe have the reader be an artist so when she’s drawing she’s like 🤩😙🙁😋🤨😱😐 THANK UUUUU

expressions

(headcannons + drabbles!) the main three's separate reaction to their artist gf who is very expressive whenever they draw (requested!)

main three (separate) x female!reader no cws wc: 1007 overall

an: omg its my first time writing in an hc listed format also the drabbles are a lot more artist gf than the expressive thing sorry huhuuu (also i forgot to reply to the ask last time i took up a request LMAO)

🍀 k. broflovski (wc: 330)

He really wants to comment on it, but doesn’t wanna bother you

I don’t mean that in a bad way! I just think that he finds it entertaining to see your mood and facial expressions shift around a lot

Like okay imagine you two parallel playing, both of you off in your own worlds

Kyle looks up at you to see you go from happy to frustrated to upset to shocked all in the span of a few seconds

He definitely finds it adorable and just basks in it by the side

Completely forgets what he was doing cause you’re just so gosh darn cute awwww

You were lying face down, arms holding you up, on his bed. You were tasked to make landscapes of any place but from different perspectives and views. To be honest, you were struggling a little bit. Backgrounds and scenery aren’t quite your strong points, but that didn’t mean you weren’t trying! You were lying down there, tongue poking out as you focused really hard to get the drawing looking at least a little bit realistically correct. You were real deep into it that you didn’t even realize Kyle was watching you until you heard a soft giggle in the back, which immediately made your head whip up. “Hmmm?” You hummed, questioning what he was laughing about. “Ah, it’s nothing.” He smiled at your curiosity. The look of amusement on his face was still there, so you had a hint of what was going on. “You’re just really pretty." You felt your cheeks heat up, giddily smiling to yourself as you felt your legs kicking back and forth in happiness. “Thank you…” You hummed. He only laughed more in return. “Don’t thank me.” He said, lifting your head up by the chin with his fingers as he placed a little kiss on your nose.

🍁 k. mccormick (wc: 360)

FINDS IT SO CUTE

but definitely teases you about it like

“You should take up acting, YN. You’re really good at changing emotions.”

Do you know how some people make facial expressions and random body movements for reference while drawing?

When he sees it for the first time, with no context whatsoever, he thought you got possessed or something CAUSE YOU WERE JUST FLAILING YOUR ARMS AROUND WHILE LOOKING INTENTLY AT THEM

I can just imagine him lying down, watching you drawing, while he’s kicking his feet in the air HEPL

You and your boyfriend, Kenny, were sat slumped against a wall in the back of some alleyway, spending your time together in the quiet where only sounds of passing cars, footsteps and chatter of pedestrians, and the soft winds blowing every now and then. You were getting into your drawings on your little sketchbook, moving from one doodle to the other and leaving many unfinished. Every couple of minutes, you’d revisit the other, but that was only if you were still up to it. Other than that, you had new ideas pulling you away from your drawings every other second. Kenny was playing with the hair that fell by the side of your face as you were doing your own business—twirling, braiding, and unfurling it over and over again. You stretched out your hand and formed it in a reached-out, grabbing motion, shifting it every so often to get a better view of what it looked like. Kenny watched you observing yourself in intrigue as well, resting his chin on your shoulder. As soon as you were done and about to get back to drawing, he lifted himself back up and started to play with your hair once more. While you were drawing out the hand same hand you motioned earlier, you felt a soft kiss on your cheek, which caught you off guard. You turned your head in Kenny's direction, giving him a look that asked, ‘Why?’ Not in a bad way, just out of curiosity. He shrugged in return, cupping your face in one hand with his fingers resting on both cheeks as he squeezed them. “Cutie.”

🎸 s. marsh (wc: 317)

He doesn’t pay much mind to it honestly

He sees it for the first time and thinks it’s kinda silly, but not much after that

He brings it up sometimes though like

“Oh, yeah, I think it’s funny how you’re really expressive.”

But really its not something that bothers him

If anything, he finds it really adorable sometimes, especially when you get a little too into the zone and you’re just changing expressions every millisecond

Honestly, I think it’s a neat little dynamic since you’re probably really bubbly while Stan’s more aloof

You and Stan were in your favorite corner of the world—Stark’s Pond. Okay, technically, it’s one of the farthest things from a corner, given that it’s a whole landscape, but it was a special place unbeknownst to many, especially people who aren’t from the small town of South Park. You two were sat on a bench by the pond, Stan playing the guitar cross-legged, and you were leaning towards it while drawing on your tablet. You hummed along with the songs he was playing, familiar to you as it was your relationship’s self-declared theme song. Your face was twisted in a pout, trying to get a small detail, but important (to you), correct. You clicked your tongue, flipping your canvas every so often to make sure it looked right or physically possible. You sighed, resting your body weight on Stan as he paused to look at you and your art’s progress. “Frustrated?” He hummed, putting his arm down so that it was more comfortable for you to lean onto him. “No,” you clicked your tongue. “Just need to get around this little part. Like, I can’t draw feet for the life of me.” You sighed, tipping your head a little further as you ground into Stan's shoulder. He found himself giggling at you, patting your back, and giving you a little kiss on the cheek.

#cocogrrrl's writing #south park fanfiction #south park x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick x you #kenny mccormick x y/n #kenny mcormick x reader #stan marsh x y/n #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x reader #stan x reader

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lyranova · 7 months

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A Starry Nursery

Hiya guys! I hope you’re all doing well! So this was inspired by @thoughtfullyrainynightmare as I woke up with baby brain for some reason XD! It’s just a small, fluffy, YuNeva fic where they design the Nursery. I hope you all enjoy~!

Word Count: 1,032

Warnings: Mentions of Pregnancy

————

Yuno sighed softly as he walked through the quiet halls of the Spade Castle. He had just finished a meeting with his advisors and the Queen Dowager not even a few minutes ago, and yet he couldn’t recall a single thing they talked about as his mind was elsewhere.

His mind was on his wife, Neva, who was currently 7 months pregnant with their first child.

At first Yuno hadn’t been too anxious, despite Neva saying otherwise, but as the months passed and she got closer and closer to her due date, he could feel his nerves growing worse and worse.

Before he met Neva, he wasn’t really the worrying and nervous type. But after they got married, and after he found out she was pregnant, he noticed he began to change more and more.

And he found that he didn’t really mind.

Yuno made his way to their shared bedroom, where Neva was probably still sleeping, when he suddenly heard a quiet shout and a shaky-rattling noise from the room beside theirs. The room they were making into a nursery.

He quickly turned and opened the door and blinked in confusion.

In the center of the unfinished nursery was a ladder made of diamond, and standing on the ladder, slightly bent forward, was Neva. Well, it was actually Neva’s back since she was facing away from him.

“ What…are you doing?” He asked, his voice a mixture of seriousness and confusion. He watched her sit up straight a bit, and her body tense at his voice. But she didn’t turn around.

“ Nothing…”

“ Really? Because it looks like you're trying to paint the ceiling while standing on a ladder that you made with your magic.”

“ No…”

Yuno scoffed before he walked over to Neva and helped her down off the ladder. When she spun around she cleared her throat and looked away as her husband stared down at her with a serious expression.

“ I thought I told you not to do anything dangerous?”

“ Climbing a ladder and painting the ceiling isn’t dangerous.”

“ Really? Is that why you nearly fell off the ladder before I walked in?”

“ …Well it wasn’t always dangerous.”

“ And you weren’t always pregnant either,” Yuno pointed out seriously as he stared down at her.

He nearly chuckled as Neva grumbled under her breath and a small pout appeared on her face. She wasn’t one who liked to sit around and do nothing, nor was she one to let others do things for her. She was a very independent and stubborn woman.

So her not being able to do all of the things she normally did now that she was pregnant was a hard adjustment for her.

“ Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” Yuno asked, his eyes and tone softening as he looked Neva over. His hand reached out towards her stomach before he hesitated, his hand hesitating slightly before he began to pull it back.

Neva sighed and rolled her eyes at her husband before she reached out, grabbed his hand, and gently placed it onto her rounded stomach.

“ See? We’re both fine. You’re worrying too much.” She told him softly as the two felt the baby kick and move around. She smiled softly as a warm, gentle smile made its way onto his face.

“ I can’t help it,” Yuno said softly, his eyes not leaving her abdomen. “ You’re both precious to me, so I don’t want anything to happen to either of you. If I can prevent it, then I will. Even if you don’t like it.”

Neva sighed and shook her head. Why was he so honest like this? Seriously. When he was honest with her, and looked so warm, soft, and gentle she could rarely argue with him. Even when she wanted to.

Suddenly, Yuno moved back and began to take his cloak off and rolled up his sleeves. He walked past her and up the ladder, he grabbed the paint brush and began to paint the ceiling.

“ What’re you-?” Neva began with a frown before she felt wind beneath her legs that suddenly lifted her off the ground and moved her close to the ceiling. “ What’re you doing?”

“ This way I can keep you both safe, and you can still help me decorate,” He told her as he handed her a paint brush, which she hesitantly took.

“ J-Just put me down! You’ll get tired trying to hold me up!” She tried to tell him, but he shook his head, his eyes not leaving the ceiling.

“ I’ll be fine. You’re not that heavy and I’m not tired. So just focus on painting, you want to add stars to it when we’re finished right?” He told her, and he noticed her blink in surprise before she nodded hesitantly.

For the rest of the afternoon the couple painted the ceiling a dark blue to mimic the night sky, and after the two took a break to let it dry, they added the finer details and added stars, galaxies, and a moon to it.

After they finished the ceiling the couple began to assemble the crib. Which went surprisingly smooth. They didn’t bicker or argue, instead Neva read the instructions while Yuno put it all together. They then began to paint the walls, adding different scenes to try and give the baby different things to look at. By late that evening the two had finished the nursery and admired their handiwork.

“ Do you think they’ll like it?” Neva asked softly as she looked around the room, Yuno hummed softly as he looked around as well and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“ I think they will, although it's a bit of a shame that they won’t remember it.”

“ No, but we’ll remember it, so that has to count for something, right?” Neva asked as she looked at her husband. He chuckled a bit and nodded his head.

“ That’s true,” He agreed as he placed a tender kiss onto her shoulder. “ But now that it’s finished let’s go have dinner.” He added as he pulled away from her slightly and held out his hand towards her, she nodded and took his hand before the two walked out of the nursery.

————

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

#black clover fanfiction #black clover oc fanfiction #black clover oc #yuneva #yuno x neva #neva x yuno #oc neva #yuno grinberryall

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rocicrew · 9 months

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i have too many wips/drafts/pieces of writing i never used anywhere. so im posting them bit by bit because why not. some will be more completed, and some will be unfinished, but i like pieces of writing in them, so im releasing them to the world.

Naomi was usually able to ignore the constant aching of her body. Their destination and her motivation made it easier to do so. If she reminded herself why she was doing this, it made it easier to endure the pain that came with each injection and to endure the strain of every single muscle in her body.

But something during that night cycle had brought a numbness with the aching that scared her.

She’d climbed up on their cabin, curled under the covers hoping the exhaustion would bring her sleep and not the thoughts that edged on the back of her consciousness.

Memories of a lifetime ago, that would serve nothing but further upset her.

Jim entered a while after, having to reply to some messages sent by Avasarala. She hadn’t asked for details, just let him know she was going to lie down.

“Thought you’d be asleep by now”, he said with a groan as he sat on the edge of their bunk and began undressing. First his mag boots and then his jumpsuit.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Naomi watched him, her head resting on her pillow and her eyes trailed on the muscles on his back as he took off his shirt.

He turned then towards her with a question in his eyes.

She smiled at how well he knew her. Once that’d have felt terrifying. It still did at times if she were honest. But it also brought her a comfort that'd been long gone. Even for something as simple as this.

She nodded, carefully sitting up without showing any of the intense discomfort her body felt. But he must have known she wasn't feeling all that well because he was already helping her pass the fabric over her head and through her arms.

If it were anyone else, Naomi would've found the gesture condescending. But when she looked at him he had a gentle smile that had his eye crinkling at the corners, all she felt was an overwhelming affection and couldn't stop herself from letting out a huff of air.

They settled into each other, as they did every night, Naomi with her head pillowed on Holden's shoulder and her arm thrown over his torso. And today even that effort felt exhausting.

“I gave birth on Ceres”, his hand that was stroking up and down her side stilled suddenly but she didn’t hear any comment. If she had to guess she’d assume he didn’t want to stop her from speaking at the rarity that was her opening up.

“Probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere else.” On Pallas, in one of the ships she used to make runs with, she didn’t stand a chance.

There was a calmness in which she said like it wasn’t what actually was but a simple fact.

But it was a fact.

It was the gravity of the situation. The corollary of the lack of consistent gravity growing up. A few years back, when she wasn’t the Naomi she is now, she’d have said that wouldn’t be a bad outcome. It certainly would have spared her the heartbreak.

“Naomi-”

“I remember the room I was in… I was alone, but there was this woman singing some song. Must have been a nurse or…”, an OPA member, the kind that once she would have thought as family.

Please don’t ask me about it, she thought. I can’t tell you anything more.

“I don’t think I could understand the words and I’m not sure if I ever learned her name but I still remember the melody.”

It all seemed out of place. Her confession, the topic, everything about it.

Except it wasn’t.

Because her body ached more than ever and she couldn’t help but revert to the last time she’d felt this bad. Because Jim doesn’t get everything yet, he doesn’t get Marco and all she’d been through but he can get pieces of herself. Because it was an indirect way to ask what she needed.

I was alone then, held together by a stranger's kindness. I was alone and scared and in so much pain and I don’t want to be that now.

(She leaves out the code she wrote just a few days after in a room next door. That is harder to bear than the gravity the planet would soon force on her.)

Naomi almost got lost in the memories. Too vivid. Too painful. Neither, both of them.

However, a low hum pulled her out of it. It was nothing like the melody she remembered but no less comforting. Perhaps even more so.

Because unlike the previous time, there was actual love and care behind it. This man… Truthfully she meant for her memory to be taken more metaphorically but the earnestness of his gesture meant more. His earnestness has always been a source of great affection towards him.

She buried herself further into his arms, letting the rumble of his voice soothe her as it vibrated through his chest.

“Mother Elise used to sing this for me whenever I had a nightmare”, he whispered in between hums. “But I'm not a good singer, clearly.”

His small jest was able to draw a laugh, albeit a small one, even here.

“Well, I've heard worse.”

“That's comforting.”

“No, keep going. It's nice. I like it.”

Jim leaned down to press a gentle kiss right at her hairline before resuming with her request.

His steady hand on her side, his deep pleasant scent, the soft material of his shirt on her shoulder and the tone of his voice grounded her back to their small cot better than anything that day.

Every ache and bruising stopped feeling like a distant sensation and came back to here and now. Feeling like her body once again.

In the midst of all that, she hadn't paid attention to the new warmth of the blanket that now enveloped her or had realised how much effort it took to keep her eyes still open.

Before she drifted asleep, she heard Jim whisper, "You're alone anymore. You'll always have me," but the exhaustion overwhelmed her and before she had a chance to wonder if she'd spoken any of her thoughts out loud, she fell into dreams of planets and gravity wells and a different life that would've never belonged to her.

#nolden #For some reason the mention of that in ng i think has stuck with me so it kind of turned into this #past memories will always be complicated and painful for naomi but sometimes despite that #each admission doesn't have to be a grand one even if the underlying emotions are #mine : fics.

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cherryusa · 2 years

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Oh, silly little Sleuth. Your cousin died in this town! Sure you don’t wanna turn back now?

THE SLEUTH:

SULLIVAN “SULLY” LEWIS JOE KEERY, PLAYED BY BIANCA, 25, AEST

“WAIT - YOU TOTALLY HAVEN’T BEEN IN TOWN FOR A WHILE, RIGHT? DID YOU HEAR ABOUT EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED LAST YEAR?“

“I’ve heard a lot more than you think.” It was the kind of vague thing someone would say in one of the pulpy cheap paperbacks Sully still had in his unpacked suitcase, collecting dust in the corner of the room he was staying in. A guest bedroom, because the idea of being in his Aunt and Uncle’s... or hell, Lux’s old room, it didn’t exactly excite him. He could claim the rest of the house as his own for the summer, but he rarely even touched the doorknob on the master bedroom. Lux’s room was a little different, though. It needed to be preserved, though he’d already looked through it several times since arriving in Cherry. “I mean how could I not, it was like... my mother embodied the rumor mill. Every time I’d pass her in the hallway the house phone was superglued to her ear and she was talking about some bizarre thing happening there...” He trailed off, blinking as he looked off into the distance, imagining the things she probably whispered about him when he wasn’t around to hear it, too busy watching his Law and Order episodes. Clenching his jaw, he offered a quick, superficial smile. “I guess I don’t know everything, though. Can’t help but curious. My family still hasn’t recovered from losing Lux, so I guess I’m itching to understand what it is about this town.”

“WHAT ARE YOU PARENTS LIKE? DO YOU, LIKE, THINK YOU’RE ANYTHING LIKE THEM, OR DO YOU HAVE TOTAL MOMMY AND DADDY ISSUES?”

That question garnered a scoff. It was the only exposed nerve that Sully had for someone to press on and throw him off. “Sue-Ellen and David Lewis do not inspire mommy and daddy issues. They’re... boring, really.” A lie, but an easy one to tell. “My mother lives at the country club, is a notorious gossip and braggart. She’s fired every housekeeper we have within two years of hiring her and most of our nannies quit, so she raised us herself for the most part. I don’t even really know why she hired the nannies when she always stood over their shoulders, making sure they did everything correctly. I guess I get that attitude from her, the ‘if you want it done right, do it yourself thing’,” He smiled wistfully. “My father is protective of our family. He plays golf and he sells cars. He’s not particularly emotional.” And Sully had never heard him utter the words ‘I love you’, nor felt affection from him since he was a mere baby. Not that it mattered. He didn’t need it from that man. “Nothing special, just some regular old red blooded Americans..”

“YOU CAN BE HONEST WITH ME… WHO DO YOU THINK MURDERED LUX?”

Now this was a topic that got Sully riled up. He leaned forward, peering from side to side conspiratorially. “I can trust you, right?" His eyes seemed to be searching for something, an indication that they would or wouldn’t go spewing his words up and down the boardwalk the second he was done. “I have some suspects in mind, call it a shortlist of people who had their reasons. I’m not just interested in the who, though. That’s just one half of a mystery. What I find compelling is the why... Right now it’s like I have puzzle pieces, but I want them to fit and give me the whole story. I’m a bit stubborn that way, I guess. Can never leave something unfinished once I start it.” Sully was determined to leave no stone unturned and take no shortcuts in figuring this out. Sure, he may not have been particularly close with Lux and maybe he didn’t care enough when her murder first happened, too distracted by his own bullshit, but he knew there was something just waiting for him to uncover it. He could make his tendency to get sucked up in things work for him, at least this once.

CONNECTIONS:

THE BABY/RORY:

Sully doesn’t really know a lot of people like Rory, people who are genuine and kind. It almost makes him feel like a jerk for lying to her so constantly, but he’s made a vow to himself that if there are some people he’s trying to show his sincere self to, she’s one of them. It’s a small way of not getting too engrossed in this role he’s playing. He may also be guilty of getting carried away in offering up parts of himself because she’s one of the few people who he’s indicated his interest in crime and mystery to. He’s also very aware of how his investigation may put someone innocent like her in danger, which is why he tries not to involve her in too many of his attempts to get information.

THE RUNAWAY/SAVANNAH:

Savannah unsettles Sully. He all too often feels like somehow he’s the mouse when he’s so constantly trying to be the cat in Cherry. It seems like she’s one of the few people that sees through him, but he’s stubborn and right now completely refuses to let her in on what he’s really doing in town, let alone any of the slightly shady things he’s been doing to figure out who murdered his cousin (see: snooping around, stealing shit). He truly believes he’ll be the one to outsmart her in the end and he’s willing to play things at a more dangerous pace just to do it.

THE TOURIST/MADELINE:

Sully has made it his mission to befriend and get to know anyone in Lux’s life and Madeline is no exception. Sure, she’s not even making the suspect list and he’s not sure she can provide much information, but he’s completely unaware that she’d have any reason to suspect he’s not being quite so sincere in befriending everyone. He just thinks she’s another person who was under his cousin’s spell, which he assumes he can use to his advantage.

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hegeso · 1 month

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26.4.24

one of the things that brings me the most pleasure right now, living at this house, is watching passersby from my window or from the porch. they stop, lift up onto their toes, and sniff the wisteria that hangs over the sidewalk.

the scent is a bit floral for my tastes, but it’s such a small joy to witness.

d– asked me for help naming her daughter today. i’ve never felt so honored or like i was doing something so special. to have a part in naming a child…someone else’s child…i’m capital-I Important to someone.

not much else of note. would like for something dramatic and positive to happen to me. would appreciate a bit of entertainment.

27.4.24

i’m in danger if n– keeps saying shit to me about me understanding him and him never feeling cared for in that way before

what the fuck

and him saying he wants to rest his head on me somewhere

and that my voice that was never sharp softens and smooths still at the edges when i talk to him like that

it is a heart squeezing feeling

and i feel dumb

but i’m just being honest with him?

28.4.24

yesterday i had p– promise not to write a song about me. he started a few while we were together, but they either turned into something not for me, or were left unfinished. he cried and asked, “even if it’s about good things?”

i said yes. then i relented and said he could write them, just not record them.

i don’t want to know about it if he does.

29.4.24

half asleep but just trying to get something out of me

in high school, my therapist was the coolest lady ever. i wanted to be like her. she had me sit on her couch and would push me to cry, yell, rage. she would call me out on my shit, swear, and voice the things i was feeling for me. i was struck then, by her, by her confidence and by her shamelessness. she saw what i was doing to myself and that it was hurting me.

in my adolescence i quickly learned that expressing my emotions or asking for things was not allowed. at home, asking for anything, wanting anything–guilt. wanting at home meant i was ungrateful, and the line for what was “too much” shifted moment to moment. at school, wanting too much would mean i was overly competitive, trying too hard, was too emotional.

in the first grade, i got to choose from the treasure box. there was a heavy bracelet with soccer charms on it. i don’t know why, but i had to have it. another girl wanted it too. i don’t remember what happened, but i ended up with it in the end, and i felt guilty. was i talked to by the teacher? did i snatch it away from the girl, and did she cry or tell me i was mean? i still have that bracelet, and i still carry that guilt with me.

another time, younger than first grade, my aunt dana took me to toys-r-us to pick something out for my birthday. i remember that whatever the first thing i wanted (not understanding money or anything like that) was a no-go. dana blew up at me. i felt embarrassed and ashamed for picking out the toy i wanted for my birthday. dana died soon after, and i held on to that guilt. i told my dad about it recently, and he said that sounded like her, that his baby sister wasn’t exactly a good person. hearing that didn’t do much to erase the feeling.

my therapist gave me homework: write a list of things that i wanted. just for myself. not things for anyone else, or that i wanted to do or be for anyone else. she wanted me to be selfish. i don’t remember what i put on my list back then. but now is the time to practice again:

i’m tired, and as i’m soon to fall asleep, i want to be lying in bed next to n–. i want to be held. i want him to hold me. i want my back to be scratched. i want my hair to be pet. i want my face to be touched. i never had that, i was always the one to do the holding and the gently caressing and the rubbing of tired shoulders. i’m fucking sick of that, i’m so angry at p– for never holding me, even when i asked. –even when i asked! i felt like a leech, some small pesky parasite, something unacceptable and all he ever did was take and accept and would never respond to my bids for any kind of closeness. i want to be held and hugged so tight i can hardly breathe, i want to close my eyes and feel enveloped, entangled, and just sleep. i want to take enough in order to have something to give again. i want closeness. i want to feel safe. i want to have a big head about some things. i want to admit to myself that i have some gifts beyond what is average. i don’t want to believe this makes me insufferable, egotistical, full of myself, delusional. fuck! fuck everyone who has ever triedd to stamp me out. fuck anyone who has seen who hard i try and had punished me for it. i want to be corny and say nice things about myself, like that i can really shine. i want to use rare compliments as fuel.

but i’m afraid because i’ve formed an attachment.

i feel as if i’m about to fail a test. i’m afraid that i’m just another person. i’m afraid of being significant. i’m afraid of being insignificant. i’m afraid of being stunted. i need to take a break for a few days before i really try to write my feelings into anything, but this is just for me. i like n–. i think we have all the makings of the most beautiful friendship. my “like” or “attraction” to him isn’t the same as a simple crush, it’s like how a chain of amino acids forms a complete protein. i don’t know how else to extend this metaphor right now. aminos are really fucking cool, they’re essential for life, they each have their own purpose, and you’re telling me if you stick enough of them together, they form a protein????????????????? what the fuck!!!! life is amazing!!! but it’s like! i’ve got all those different amino-feelings with their different amino-feeling functions and squish them all together and it becomes a hearty fucking protein called love, but it’s a complete protein–aaaghh, shut the fuck up

anyway. it’s a complex group of feelings that together seem like they’ll be whole, well-rounded, sustaining.

i want to monopolize his time. i want to be a star. that’s not right, that’s not good enough, no…a star is transfixed, far away, something to look up at

what do i really want to be? i’m afraid of not being anything. i’m afraid of having to cry alone. do i want to be happy? do i want to be a force to reckon with?

this flirtation is perverse. it’s enthralling. how do i be honest about this shit?

i feel scared i feel scared i feel scared i want to cower and hide and rot away and this is how i will fail my tests. ok maybe never mind. maybe he actually is flirting with me.

need to really think about these feelings, and if i will be too stupid to accept them.

no matter what, i refuse to get lost in someone. i’m not playing that shit anymore. i think the damage to my soul would be irreparable if that happened again. i’m refusing to stay stuck in place for anyone else, ever again. i think if n-- felt similarly to how i do, he would meet me halfway, take my hand, and we’d walk forward together.

1.5.24

smoking half cigarettes

sitting in the cold, alone, on the porch swing

division street is peaceful at midnight. it’s may first. my heart feels heavy.

puncture wound on my right hand, swollen, angry.

i learned how to wash blood out of clothes when i was eleven

cold water, bar soap. if the blood dries, it stains. i’m comforted by the smell of metallic water as it washes off the fabric and goes down the drain.

pale glass pools

saturday crosswords

prone/prostrate

3.5.24

i look forward to greater health

girlhood, womanhood, personhood, etc.

can’t really relate. only in dreams. only in small moments with cherished friends. n– is the only one who can call me a girl. i’ve decided that i’m going to let him see parts of me that i’ve never shown anyone else.

when we met. 恋の予感. was that what i knew then? the same kind of knowledge i had the first time i ever saw m–.

5.5.24

i’ve been thinking a lot about who i’ve been, specifically this horrifically fragile/wounded version of me at age 20. i want to take care of her. i think i have to reach her somehow, deep within my mind or in dreams and help her to heal. she was injured, but i’m the one left with scar tissue. she feels completely isolated from me. where is she? it’s so sad.

1.5.2020

i think i spend my life aching to run away to a place where i will experience an entirely new moment, one that doesn’t remind me of anything i’ve ever experienced before. sometimes i can’t decide if everyone is always running away or always staying stuck in place. maybe everyone wants to get away from everything they’ve grown up feeling and all the lives and lies and thoughts and impressions and empty ideas they’ve ever had and maybe everyone stays caught up in those same things forever and ever. nobody ever moves forward or runs somewhere or stays in place because there is no such thing. there is only existing, existing now. all we do is shift the orientation of our axes in ways that seem like we are moving, progressing, changing. we are fixed points in space within a shape that moves around us. we are always in the same positions, our distances in relation to others never change and never have. new and past relationships don’t exist. a relationship always has existed between and amongst all people within society or a universe where everything seems so still yet on this planet we are hurling at speeds immeasurable and incomprehensible to the human mind. internally, daily, there is loudness and motion and seasickness and planetsickness and homesickness but in the presence of the Everything Else we are still, we do not move, we are fixed in space and in time and will never make any more impact than the acknowledgement that something was there. to have a concept, a paradoxical-contradictory-contrasting concept as stillness versus motion, mattering and not mattering, importance and unimportance is something to feel amazement at. awestricken by the wondrousness of something as simple as the fact of a simple being inhabiting a tiny rock blinking in and out of orbit. we are allowed to have big thoughts and wonder and ask questions and feel curiosity. that the Everything Else is allowed the same things too. and perhaps that is where heaven and hell come from? not good and evil. no one has ever agreed about that. what we’ve been missing: stillness and motion, heaven is still, hell is not. and that’s the entire point to a lot of it. nothing ever moves but things do move around. fixed points on rotating, polydimensional axes.

#n #p #d #s #drivel #m

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marvelouspeterparker · 3 years

Text

pretty special

PAIRING: pornstar!sebastian stan x pornstar!reader

SUMMARY: you shoot your first scene with the acclaimed and widely admired adult film star, sebastian stan.

WARNINGS: cliché porn scenario (dad's friend) + daddy kink + age gap + dirty talk + oral (m and f rec.) + unprotected sex + creampie

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

NOTES: this was part of this fic for tom but i extracted it in case some sebastian fans that don't read for tom wanted to read it, since i'm going to be writing for him now :)

––✧––

You were a bit nervous walking into work––working with one of the biggest stars was understandably a daunting experience. You didn’t want to seem like a complete amateur next to him, especially not when you were working with him. And on top of that, you’d been watching his videos for years now, since you were a teenager, and he never once lost his charm or his spark.

You could see how he’d evolved throughout all of his videos––when he was just a young fresh face that captured the hearts of many, to his long-haired phase, to his short hair and stubble phase, each and everyone one was just as enchanting and seductive.

You’d seen the way he managed to have chemistry with every actress he worked with––how they would all fall under his allurement, get flustered from just one look. If you were being honest, you could see Tom becoming the next actor of that status––he’d already had such a good reputation among the industry and the viewers seemed to love him as well. So the fact that you were going to get the opportunity to be with both of them? Well not at the same time, but if you did, you would most certainly melt on the spot. But even separately––You felt like you were going to combust.

Sebastian was now in his late thirties, but he looked better than ever, his eyes just as smoldering, even through a screen. He kept his hair short now and often let his beard grow out, which you personally loved. Since he had a very promising reputation––and everyone that he’s worked with has only had enticing things to say about him and his skills, you couldn’t say that you weren’t excited and honored to work with him.

The scene you were filming today took place in multiple places, all of which were in a home––so for work today you showed up to one of the many unfinished houses the agency used for filming. Within no time you were dressed and in the makeshift makeup room in one of the spare bedrooms with Olive, the makeup artist, putting the finishing touches on your face. Your look was supposed to be more natural today so it didn’t take too long since you only needed some light coverage.

“You nervous sweetie?” She asked, dabbing the beauty blender under your eyes.

You looked up at her, a sheepish smile on your face. “Of course I am, it’s Sebastian Stan.”

She waved you off, “Oh don’t be. He’s the sweetest thing, really.” She placed the beauty blender on the vanity. “You know a little birdie told me that he asked for you personally.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “What? Are you serious?”

She nodded, pursing her lips. “And he doesn’t do that for just anyone, so he must think you’re pretty special.” She started cleaning up her station. “That should put you at ease, right?”

“I mean…” You looked into the mirror and trailed off when you noticed a familiar face walk into the room. You’d never seen him in person until now, so far only watching him on the screen of your phone in the privacy of your room––but seeing him in front of you was something else.

Olive noticed you trail off and turned curiously before her eyes settled on the man walking towards her. He walked over to your makeup artist, a big smile on his face as he opened his arms. “Olive! How are you?”

She smiled, hugging him back. “I’m good honey, how are you?”

He bit his lip, failing to tame his grin when they both pulled away. “I’m good.” He turned to you, “Especially since I’m going to be filming with this one today.” You got up to walk over to him and he smiled, placing a hand on your waist and kissing your cheek in greeting. He looked down at you and you could genuinely feel yourself drowning in his eyes. How were you going to manage looking into them while he was literally inside of you?

“Hi doll, how are you? It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Hi.” You cleared your throat when your voice came out weaker than expected but before you could continue, Olive interrupted you.

“She’s a little nervous, Seb.” You looked over to her like an annoyed daughter, berating her with your eyes as she walked away from you both, a glint in her eyes, but Sebastian’s eyes never left your face. You looked back to him to find a smirk on his face and you smiled awkwardly.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about honey,” he brought a hand under your chin and tilted your head up when you looked away. “I promise I don’t bite,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “That is, unless you want me to.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine and he chuckled as he pulled away to look at you. “Seems like you want me to, hm?”

You licked your lips subconsciously and he smiled, taking your hand in his. “Well you know, I asked for you personally?”

You blinked up at him, “Yeah I heard.”

He smiled, rolling his eyes as he pointed his thumb behind him at Olive’s retreating figure. “From that one I bet.” You smiled and nodded and he shook his head pretending to be exasperated, but the smile on his face contradicted that.

“Why did you? Ask for me?” You asked sheepishly, not wanting to come off as rude. But it was a little strange to have such a big star ask for you when you’re not even that established of an actor yet.

His thumb rubbed the back of your hand soothingly but the action was only sending tingles down your body. “Well I’ve seen your work,” he tilted his head. “And I know talent when I see it.” He stepped closer to you so that his breath was teasing your lips ever so slightly, his eyes piercing yours. “I also know a good girl when I see one.”

Your breath hitched, your thighs pressed together and he squeezed your hand playfully. “We’re gonna have some fun today.” He started to tug you along. “Let’s go, okay?”

You nodded, the nerves in your stomach quickly turning to excitement and lust. “Okay.”

–––

You weren’t going to take pictures before the scene today––Sebastian, having been in the industry for some time now, and having made a name for himself, was able to pull some strings nowadays and have more control over what he wanted. He didn’t really like the idea of faking for the camera, so much so that he didn’t take photos before the scenes he shot, he convinced the crew to take action shots while they were filming, so the reactions were real.

The directors knew not to rush him or the actresses he worked with during his scenes, and for that reason, no one that ever worked with him had to hurry up and fake their climaxes for the camera––they were all completely genuine and just as mind-shattering as they appeared on screen.

The scene you were filming today was different than anyone you’d done before. You were playing a young daughter who’s come home from college for the summer, and Sebastian was playing your “father”’s friend. It was a slightly controversial theme and story, but at the end of the day it wasn’t real so.

After greeting everyone, going over a few last minute things, and getting settled, the scene began.

Your “dad” and Sebastian were in the living room, talking while they watched tv for a few minutes, and you waited for your cue to step out. You came down the stairs and the camera followed you as you descended and panned out to show the three of you as you walked past them to go to the kitchen. You could feel Sebastian’s gaze trailing down your body as scripted, the camera focusing on him as he checked you out, your body also in focus as you moved by the lens.

“Excuse me young lady,” your fake father recited his line and you turned back a sweet smile on your face as you looked at him.

“Yes daddy?”

“Don’t be rude,” he chastised, “Say hello to our guest. My buddy from work, you’ve met him a few times over the past couple years, remember?”

You let your eyes fall to Sebastian and your smile widened. “Oh, right!” You walked over to him. “I’m so sorry. So nice to see you again!” You bent down and watched him take a sharp inhale as his gaze fell to your breasts before you wrapped your arms around him in a hug.

He brought his arms around you and squeezed tight, his hands lingering when you pulled away, his voice low. “Yeah it’s really nice to see you too.” He licked his lips before looking back up into your eyes and you felt your stomach flutter from the look in them. “You’ve really grown up since I last saw you.”

You shrugged as well, turning to see your “dad” not paying attention to your conversation before leaning in to whisper in Sebastian’s ear. “Way more than you know.” He bit his lip and you giggled before walking off, feeling his eyes stuck to your ass that was peeking out of your shorts.

You went to the kitchen to get a snack, conveniently walking so that the camera didn’t pick up the unfinished portion of the house, nearby. You followed the script, pretending to look around, a thoughtful look on your face as you picked up random fruits while Sebastian stared at you from the other room. After a minute or two, you turned around and went into the fridge, scanning the almost empty shelves before bending down to look near the bottom.

You felt a pair of hands slide over your ass to hold your waist and a rather impressive bulge press into your backside. “Pardon me.” You could hear the smirk in his gravelly voice as he reached over you, your body still bent over and pressed into his front. He grabbed a bottle from the top shelf before pulling away and leaning against the counter next to the fridge. You looked to the side to see him opening a bottle of water, a cheeky smile on his face as he shamelessly checked you out. “Just getting water.” He sipped from it without looking away from you and you bit your lip.

“Of course.” You closed the fridge and walked up to him as he was tilting the bottle down from his lips. You reached over behind him on the counter, while subtly grabbing his bulge in his jeans. He gasped and looked down at your hand, then across to the other room to make sure your “father” wasn’t watching before turning his head to you.

You bat your eyelashes up at him, teasingly innocent and brought your hand back to show the banana you’d just gotten. “And I was just getting a snack.” You squeezed him harder and pulled away completely, leaning on the kitchen island across from him as you peeled the fruit. His eyes were mesmerized as he watched you lick along the banana, your gaze unwavering. You slowly put the fruit into your mouth as far as you could go and his jaw dropped as you started bobbing your head up and down.

Just as it stated in the script, ever so distracted and preoccupied, his hand “accidentally” squeezed the water bottle and water splashed everywhere and all over the floor. He cursed loudly and your “dad” perked up.

“Everything alright?”

Sebastian looked up, convincingly looking flustered and you turned. “Yeah! We just spilled some water, but it’s okay I’ll clean it up!”

“Okay. Thank you sweetheart.”

You turned back around and grabbed some napkins, getting down on your knees in front of Sebastian and his eyes followed you all the way down. You half heartedly wiped down the tiles before looking up at him. Your eyes trailed down his body and you smirked, grabbing his hand. “Your hand is all wet. Let me get that for you.” Before he could say anything, you swiped your tongue along his fingers. You kept your eyes on his as your tongue made its way around his hand. You slipped two of his fingers into your mouth and he paused before slowly sliding them in and out, almost making you gag and you smiled up at him as you pulled off.

Your hands slid up his legs, one of them grazing his bulge as you made your way up to his zipper but his hand stopped you from going any further. He clenched his jaw, looking ahead before looking back down at you. “Your dad––”

You shook your head eagerly, “He won’t see anything.” The kitchen island was conveniently tall enough to hide you, so you weren’t lying. “You just have to be quiet.” You blinked up at him. “Can you do that?”

He bit his lip. “Shit––” He brought a hand up to rub the back of his head and let go of the hand of yours that he was holding. “O––Okay.” His hand came down to caress your cheek gently and you quickly turned your head to kiss his palm before reaching up and slowly unzipping his jeans. You pulled his pants and briefs down a bit before pulling his cock out and stroking it lightly but he quickly captured your attention again before you could gawk at his size, his hand firmly grabbing your jaw to make you look up at him. “Keep your eyes on me baby girl, got it?” You nodded immediately.

“Yes, got it.”

His grip tightened. “Yes who?”

You tilted your head, pretending to be confused. “Yes… daddy?”

He smiled, cooing down at you. “Such a good girl.” He briefly glanced up to the living room before looking back at you. “Now spit on daddy’s cock. Get it nice and wet for me.”

You nodded, “Yes daddy.” You gathered the drool in your mouth before spitting on his cock and stroking it. You licked along the base before wrapping your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it and sucking hard, making him grip the counter behind your head.

He cursed, “That mouth is fucking amazing, doll.”

You smiled as best you could around him, knowing that that line wasn’t in the script––you were just doing a good job and he felt the need to let you know. You felt yourself get wetter in your shorts and luckily enough, your next instruction was to bring a hand down to touch yourself in the scene. Your hand slipped past your cotton shorts and you brought your fingers down to swipe through your wetness and spread it along your slit before rubbing your clit. You hummed around Sebastian’s length and he pulled you into him, a hand around the back of your neck as he shallowly thrust into your mouth, not wanting to hurt you or make you gag too hard.

“God, are you touching yourself baby girl?” You looked up at him, pretending to be embarrassed and he chuckled breathlessly. “Such a filthy little slut aren’t you? Touching yourself, sucking my big cock and calling me daddy while your real father is sitting just in the other room…” He tutted playfully. “What a naughty fucking girl you are.” You whined and his mouth dropped open as you started sucking harder.

“Gonna make me cum. Keep doing that. Yes, just like that.”

Your “father” spoke up, asking Sebastian if he was coming back and Sebastian gulped, looking up at him with wide eyes as you stroked him quickly, your mouth sucking his tip loudly and harshly. He coughed in a useless attempt to cover the sound and looked around awkwardly. “Uh yeah! Yeah, just uh in a minute.”

“Okay but the game’s getting good man! Don’t wanna miss it.” He paused, “Hey have you seen my daughter around?”

You hummed around Sebastian and his eyes rolled back for a second before he straightened out. “Uh no, nope I haven’t seen her.”

“Huh, well I’m sure she’s fine. She knows how to take care of herself.”

Sebastian looked down at you, your hand still between your thighs. “Damn right she does.” His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he locked eyes with you. “Know how to take care of me too, don’t you?” He nodded, “Mhm, yes you do.” Seeing him above you like that, hearing the praises he was whispering to you in his deep voice were enough to get you worked up. You could feel yourself getting closer and just as your cue came to orgasm, you didn’t have to fake it. You moaned and your back straightened out, your thighs closing around your hand as you came in your shorts. You blinked, snapping yourself out of your reverie and started bobbing your head up and down and Sebastian bit his fist, his hand gripping your neck as he thrusted a few times before cumming in down your throat.

You sucked around him as he throbbed in your mouth and he breathed out roughly as he pulled out. You smiled up at him, showing his release to the camera before swallowing it and showing him your tongue afterwards. He pulled you up and took the hand that was in your shorts, bringing it up to his lips before slipping your two fingers coated in your wetness, into his mouth. He kept his eyes on yours as he licked and sucked them clean, a seductive look in his stare.

Your lips parted in arousal and shock as he pulled away, a smirk on his face. “Delicious.” Your hand fell down to your side and you blinked a few times, looking up at him.

“Come find me in my room so you can return the favor.” You smiled and walked up to your room without looking back.

He tucked himself back into his pants and went after you after a few minutes, excusing himself to use the bathroom upstairs.

The director yelled cut and you had a ten minute break to freshen up before the next part of the scene. You didn’t have a lot to touch up so by the time Sebastian came up you were already in the bedroom for the next part. He came into the room a few minutes before you had to film again, eyes finding you as you sat on the bed.

He smiled softly, licking his lips and you pressed your thighs together which didn’t go unnoticed by him. “That mouth really is something else, doll.” He laughed, “Almost made me forget where I was.”

You bit your lip as the camera crew came in, setting everything up. You looked up at him and smiled sheepishly. “That’s a good thing, right?”

There was a glint in his eyes as he looked at you. “A really damn good thing, yeah.”

Feeling the heat of his gaze, you averted your eyes and you could sense him smile as he walked out of the room, preparing to film the last part of the scene. The crew made sure the lighting was alright and set up the cameras and the microphones before the director called action.

The camera focused on you as you pretended to scroll mindlessly on your phone as the other camera followed Sebastian up the steps. He paused, making sure no one was around before opening your door, slipping in and shutting it behind him.

You looked up and smirked, setting your phone aside. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up.”

He pulled his shirt off as he walked towards the edge of the bed. “And miss my chance to taste that sweet pussy? You must be crazy.”

You laughed breathlessly as he climbed onto the bed and pulled you down to his level by your ankles. You smiled up at him and he captured your lips in a passionate kiss and you found yourself getting lost in the feeling of him on top of you. You slid your hands up to tug his hair and he growled, taking your wrists and pinning them above your head, making you gasp as he pressed himself into you and tilted his head to lick along your neck.

You arched your back under him and he continued to rub himself against you, only making you more desperate. After a few moments and a change of camera angles, he pulled your shirt off and slid down to pull your shorts off as well. He spread your legs slowly but firmly, his hands digging into your thighs as he glanced up at you, moving his head to press teasing kisses to your soft skin.

He kissed his way up your leg before licking a long stripe up your heat, his lips soon coming around to leave wet kisses to your slit. You brought your hands down to grip the sheets and he was quick to let go of your thighs and held your hands in his, by your sides.

Normally in these videos, the actors wouldn’t actually eat the actress out properly, only flicking their tongue lightly, wanting to show the camera and the viewers everything––but Sebastian wasn’t a fan of that method, so he buried his face between your thighs, eating you like you were his last meal.

“Taste so fucking sweet.” He smirked up at you when you whined, your fingers squeezing around his hands, as you squirmed under his hold. His tongue was lapping you up loudly but purposefully as he shook his head ferociously, groaning into you as your hips started to buck into his mouth.

“F––Fuck!”

He growled and quickened his pace before he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucking hard. Soon, your head fell back and your mouth dropped open, your back arching as you let out a silent cry. Your thighs tightened around his head when he let go of one of your hands and palmed your breast, tugging and teasing your nipples. He kept going until your legs were trembling, and only then did he pull away, licking his lips as he unbuttoned his pants and hastily tugged them off, throwing them off the bed.

He stroked his cock a few times before getting back between your legs and sliding it through your wetness. He tapped the tip on your clit and smiled when you jolted from the sensation. He then slid into you slowly, bottoming out smoothly, his hands pressing your thighs open so he could see all of you. He thrusted into you a few times slowly before picking up the pace gradually.

His eyes were transfixed on the way your pussy was swallowing him whole, clenching around him but one glance at your blissed out face had him twitching inside of you.

“Look at you. Taking my cock while your dad’s downstairs. Naughty girl.” He pounded into you hard and you moaned loudly. He brought a hand up to cover your mouth, leaning close to you as he kept pounding into you, your pleading eyes looking up at him. “Gotta be quiet baby girl, okay? Just stay there and take my cock like a good girl.”

You nodded, your hands coming up to hold his wrist as your eyes rolled back. He brought a hand down to rub at your clit and thrusted into you faster and you moaned behind his hand, your hips moving of their own accord.

“That’s it. Take that cock.”

In no time, he had you coming around his cock, his eyes watching you as you came undone, your body tensing before dropping back down to the bed gracefully, as if it were deflating. Just as you caught your breath, he pulled out and flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

“You okay baby?”

You nodded, smiling back at him. “Please fuck me.”

He groaned and slapped your ass before sliding back inside your tight walls. He grabbed your hips and fucked into you hard, the sound of your skin slapping against each other loud and enticing. He was moaning and cursing, pulling your hips back into his as he thrusted his cock into your opening. Your walls were tightening around him, coaxing him to tip over the edge.

His movements became more frantic, his fingertips turning white from the force he was using. “Fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum––”

You moaned at the ragged nature of his voice, the desperate pleas falling from his lips as he used you. “Please cum inside me, daddy.”

He cursed and came with a loud groan, his head falling back as he kept fucking you to prolong his high. His pace faltered and he soon slowed down before pulling out and moving aside to let the camera show the cum dripping out of you.

Once the camera got the shot, he slapped your ass playfully and grabbed it before pulling you up to sit on him. “Such a good girl.” He brought his hands up from your ass to your jaw and pulled you in for a reeling kiss. He licked into your mouth languidly, your tongues playing with each other as you both sighed and moaned into the kiss. He slipped a hand back down to play with your ass and you giggled, giving each other two more short kisses before pulling away and looking at each other, your eyes still cloudy with lust.

The director yelled cut and the shoot was over. Sebastian kept his eyes on you for a moment longer, his hands caressing your body. He kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear. “Knew you’d be a good girl for me.”

You whimpered and he grinned pulling back to look at you. “That was fucking amazing, doll. What’d you think?”

You shook your head, a smile on your lips. “I feel like I’m on cloud nine honestly.”

He smirked. “We’re definitely doing this again.”

––✧––

@ marvelouspeterparker 2021 –– please do not repost anywhere

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fanfiction #pornstar!sebastian stan #pornstar!sebastian stan x reader #pornstar!sebastian stan x pornstar!reader #pornstar!sebastian stan smut

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tolkien-feels · 2 years

Note

Okay, so, I've watched the movies and I've read The Big Three, though I'm still a little shaky on my Silmarillion lore if I'm being honest. Where do I go from here if I want to read more Tolkien? Is there a commonly followed reading order? Should I just go by publication date? (Yes I am motivated to get into deeper lore because of your blog, that's why I'm asking you lmfao)

Oh hey! Happy to see my blog dragging people deeper down into the black hole of increasingly obscure Tolkien works!

I actually have a friend reading the Silm for the first time and I'm already making my little evil plans that can be summed up by "If she doesn't hate it, what can I tempt her to read next?" So I've been giving it a lot of thought lately, actually! Which is why this post ended up, uh, long.

I've taken the liberty of adapting this answer a little bit just in case I have any followers who have read fewer books than you have and find this useful. Hope you don't mind it!

The best way to read Tolkien depends a lot on what you enjoy. If you thought The Hobbit was too childish, don't read his stories for children. If your eyes glazed over when poems came up in LotR, don't pick a poetry book. If The Silmarillion drove you to tears, maybe wait before you get into the more scholarly works.

Availability is also something to consider. Maybe your local library has a few titles already, or you happen to find a good copy of something in a used bookstore, or there's a deal that saves you a lot of money. Alternatively, maybe you're set on reading something but can't find it. You might also fall in love with a story through fandom and want More Of It, or see a pretty edition that you just Must Own. These are all okay! See, the thing about Tolkien is that generally speaking, you can read his works in almost any order, so be open to changing your plans as stuff comes up in your life. I'd be willing to take a bet that the minority of fans read his stuff in any way that makes any sense lol

Personally, I think it makes sense to read in this sequence:

Read these first

The core stuff

The Hobbit

The Lord of the Rings

The Silmarillion

These are the Big Three, and you should probably get to them before you get to anything else.

The Silmarillion might take a couple of attempts to get through depending on how comfortable you are with the style, and I personally had to read it from cover to cover twice before I felt like I had a good grasp on it. @askmiddlearth has a pretty good guide that my friend who's reading it is finding really helpful.

Stories you already know: now with 200% more detail

Most other books won't be Silm levels of difficult, btw! But many assume you're familiar with it, simply because Hobbit-LotR-Silm are usually the ones most people read. So even if I otherwise follow a generally "easiest to hardest" logic, the Silm belongs here.

As an addendum, I would say the LotR appendices are a good bridge, stylistically speaking, to the Silmarillion.

The books in this category can be read in any order you feel like - you already know how they fit together.

Unfinished Tales

The Great Tales of Middle Earth, which is a series containing the following standalone books:

The Children of Hurin

Beren and Luthien

The Fall of Gondolin

Here you'll find mostly unfinished, often contradictory versions of stories you already know - but with lots of awesome detail that fandom tends to consider canon as much as we can.

These are books which contain both stories by Tolkien and commentary by his son Christopher, explaining his father's creative process and taking educated guesses as to how stories connect together and so on. It's a gentle introduction to more hardcore scholarship and if you can handle long tumblr meta I'm sure you can handle these.

Oh, and of these four books, Children of Hurin is the easiest to read by far, so maybe begin from that one. You might even read it before The Silmarillion and possibly before The Lord of the Rings (especially if you've watched the movies) - it's a pretty straightforward novel.

Read these in any order you want

I'm listing them in the order I think makes the most sense, but if you've read the books above you can just pick any section here according to your interest

Fairy tale essays, short poems, short stories and such things

The Adventures of Tom Bombadil and Other Verses from the Red Book

Farmer Giles of Ham

Tree and Leaf

Smith of Wootton Major

The Father Christmas Letters

Mr Bliss

Roverandom

Tales from the Perilous Realm

These aren't technically legendarium relevant but are delightful if you like fantasy. A lot (but not all) of these are very light reading and excellent to read to children who aren't ready for the actual legendarium yet, or to turn to as a break from heavier material.

I really wanted to make separate sections for children's literature and things that just happen to be fairy tales but immediately noticed I had no idea when a fairy tale becomes too grown up to be children's literature, so a single section it is

The Deep Lore™️

You know when Frodo inherits Bilbo's papers (and then Sam inherits Frodo's) and they have to make sense of it? That's what it's like reading HoME.

The History of Middle Earth series, or HoME for short.

(There are 12 books in this series. It's probably a terrible idea to read them out of order, so I won't even list them here)

Basically, these are nearly all the scraps of paper by Tolkien that could be found at the time, put together chronologically and presented with commentary. Here you can find answers to like 80% of the questions you might have after reading the other books, and then answers to a million other questions you didn't actually have.

This feels more like reading a library than a book series - whether this makes you want to read it more or less depends on your taste.

Also! Last year they released The Nature of Middle Earth, which is in the same vein as these but I haven't read it yet so I don't feel quite comfortable saying "Oh yeah this is when you should read it!"

Tolkien as a person: biography, letters and essays

JRR Tolkien: A Biography (by Humphrey Carpenter)

The Letters of JRR Tolkien

The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays

I'm not the best person to ask about studying Tolkien as a person, but these are probably the most famous (and important) books.

The Letters also contain a lot of info about Middle Earth, so they might be worth taking a look even if you, like me, don't feel like reading tons of biographies.

For fans of all things medieval

The Fall of Arthur

Beowulf: A Translation and Commentary, together with Sellic Spell

Finn and Hengest: The Fragment and the Episode

The Legend of Sigurd and Gudrun

The Story of Kullervo

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl and Sir Orfeo

The Lay of Aotrou and Itroun

These are all translations, commentaries or deliberate imitations of actual medieval texts, as opposed to the ahistorical quasimedieval thing the legendarium has got going on. You probably shouldn't touch these if poetry scares you, though.

And that's it...?

Not really, no. There are other publications if you're a completist, but these are the major ones in every category I can think of. There should be some 30-40 books here anyway, so this should keep you busy for a while!

Note that I won't revisit this post to update it every time a new book is released, so for more recent books, use your best judgment!

#reading order #<< for my own reference if someone ever asks me again or i do manage to get my friend down the rabbit hole #in which i am forced to confront my lifestyle choices as i realize how much tolkien i've read #me @ me diversify your reading material fgs #hyperfixations are truly impossible to explain

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seriouslysnape · 3 years

Text

Miscommunication (pt.2)

James Potter x Remus Lupin x Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Poly! relationship.

A/N: Part 1 is here!

Word Count: 3,376

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

It had been three weeks since you had stormed out of the boys’ dorm in a scurry of anger. It had also been three weeks since you had touched, talked to, or even spared Sirius a passing glance. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t even exist. Despite your dramatic exit, Sirius was confident that you’d crack soon enough and come running back to him, begging for forgiveness. But the more time that passed, the more that he was beginning to realize that might not be the case.

In a general sense, life continued on as it always had. You walked through the Hogwarts’ corridors with the three Gryffindors, laughing at James’ jokes and blushing red under Remus’ kisses. You gave all your love and time to James and Remus, not offering Sirius a drop of your attention.

He tried to ignore it. He tried to brush it off like it didn’t bother him and like it didn’t make a difference whether you were with him or not. His attempts to drown you out the way you had been drowning him out were successful at first, but it only took about a week for him to realize how much this was killing him.

In the mornings, you woke James or Remus up (depending on whose bed you slept in the night before) with bubbly kisses and sweet giggles, something that you had always done for all three of the boys’ wake up calls. Sirius had gone almost 23 days (but not like he was COUNTING or anything) since he had any kind of interaction with you.

No cuddles.

No hugs.

No kisses.

Nothing.

The whole situation put James and Remus into a bit of an awkward position. You were on great terms with the two of them, considering they hadn’t insulted you and invalidated your feelings right in your face. This was a difficult challenge to tackle, because they felt guilty for continuing to love up on you when Sirius wasn’t getting his usual share. This was a rather particular arrangement that had taken lots of trial and error to make the right adjustments. Now that the balance had been thrown off, the whole thing didn’t feel right.

James and Remus had both tried to convince you to talk things out with Sirius. They knew that deep down this wasn’t what you wanted, and things couldn’t go on like this forever. James and Remus knew Sirius better than anybody. They were fully aware that Sirius was regretting what he had done and was kicking himself for it...even if Sirius wouldn’t show it or admit to it.

Sirius was beginning to lose precious sleep over this. He tossed and turned in his bed that had grown so lonely without you. His arms felt so empty not being wrapped around you, holding you snugly to his body. Suddenly, he didn’t have anyone to help him with his Potions homework or someone to remind him about his Transfiguration exam coming up. He didn’t have the girl that completed the complex puzzle that was Sirius Black. He felt so unfinished without you.

He missed you.

But his pride was winning out.

“How’s the brat today?” Sirius questioned dryly, not even looking up from his Herbology textbook in his lap.

“Sirius.” Remus and James echoed, clearly displeased at Sirius’ cold name for you.

Over the last three weeks, Sirius would ask about you when you weren’t around and he was alone with the boys. He would ask how you were doing, but what he really wanted to know was if you had said anything about him or given any indications that you were close to giving in. James and Remus were growing impatient with Sirius. They had tried to step back, allowing both yourself and Sirius to have time to allow your fog of frustration to air out. They had hoped that Sirius would come around to realize that he had been wrong in all kinds of ways, and you both could work it out on your own.

Between stepping all over your feelings like they were a sidewalk and calling you a bitch for being rightfully upset, Sirius had one too many strikeouts on his record.

“What? If she’s going to act like a child, then I’ll treat her like one.” Sirius growled.

James crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair that he was sitting in by the common room’s fireplace. Remus watched the two of them from over the rim of his cup that contained his favorite hot tea.

“She’s hurt, Sirius. You hurt her,” James snarled, eyebrows furrowed in agitation, “I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk to you.”

“Did you not hear the things she said to me? She was totally out of line.” Sirius argued, his demeanor going rigid and his defensive mode kicking into high gear.

“Because you pushed her too hard,” Remus cut in, “She has every right to be upset.”

Sirius was shocked that they were taking your side over his. You were never allowed to speak to any of them the way you had talked to Sirius that day. You weren’t allowed to talk back, get an attitude, touch yourself without permission, as well as other rules that had been established early on in the relationship. They all took the rules very seriously, and the fact that James and Remus were brushing it off was mind boggling to Sirius.

“I didn’t push her at all. She caught an attitude with me.” Sirius remarked tossing his textbook aside.

“Because you don’t always treat her the way you should,” Remus snapped, “All she wanted was for you to listen and talk to her.”

“Do I not already do enough for her? I walk her to class, I let her sleep with me, not to mention that I fuck her pretty much whenever she wants,” Sirius pointed out, “And now I’m still not doing enough?”

James shook his head, sighing harshly. He was disappointed that he still wasn’t getting it.

“She’s our girl, Padfoot. She responds so well to Moony and me because she knows how much we love her,” James explained, “You’ve got to start treating her like you love her.”

Sirius’ hardened features went light at what James was saying. He looked between his two best friends, who were sharing matching expressions of urgency. Sirius felt a sickening feeling creeping into his stomach that he could feel all the way up into his throat. Had you gone this whole time thinking that he didn’t love you like the other two did?

“But...I do love her.” Sirius spoke, almost in a whisper.

James and Remus looked at one another briefly, a bit relieved that he was maybe starting to see clearly now.

“She doesn’t know that. You’re going to lose her for good if you don’t change some things, Pads.” Remus added once he saw that Sirius was beginning to have a serious breakthrough moment.

That surely got Sirius’ attention. That wasn’t something he wanted at all. It made his heart hurt even to think about possibly never being with you again. He had to fix this, no matter what he had to do or say.

He just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

The remorse and the contrition that he was feeling that had been building up in him over the last three weeks was finally seeping through the cracks of the surface. It was like a fire that just kept spreading and spreading until the only thing he could see were the hot, orange flames and black smoke that would suffocate him if he breathed in too hard. It was like a switch had flipped. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t care about his pride or his image or his dignity.

He just wanted you back.

So, the boys began to devise a plan. Sirius admitted that he didn’t know how to even begin apologizing to you. He wasn’t great with apologies, considering that even the word ‘sorry’ probably had only fallen from his mouth only a couple of times in his life. This was going to take some calculation and planning to get it right.

You had been doing a bang up job of ensuring that you weren’t ever alone with Sirius. You made sure that either James or Remus was by your side whenever you were in Sirius’ presence, to avoid being forced to speak to him. Remus and James were confident that they could get you two in a room alone together. That was the easy part. The hard part would fall to Sirius, which came down to the actual apology.

James and Remus knew you’d be suspicious if Sirius apologized first. You’d likely only think he was apologizing because he was touch starved and wanted sex, not because he cared about you and was terrified of losing you. In their eyes though, as long as he was honest and didn’t lose his cool, you’d be able to see his real intentions.

Remus had told you to meet him in their dorm, and that no one would be there until later in the day. That seemed pretty normal to you, so you didn’t even give it a second thought. The dorm was empty when you arrived, prompting you to slip out of your uniform and into one of Remus’ sweaters all while getting comfortable on his bed. Shortly after you were settled, the three boys congregated just outside the door, whispering in their semi-circle formation.

“You got this, mate. Just be normal and be honest,” James instructed, “I guarantee you that she’s missing you just as much.”

Sirius was nervous. Not because he didn’t know what to say or what to do, but because he had half convinced himself that you had already decided he wasn’t worth your time anymore. He couldn’t live with himself if he was the reason you had left him.

“We’ll be out here just in case you need us,” Remus piped up, “It’s gonna be fine, Pads.”

James and Remus gave Sirius reassuring grins as Sirius took a deep breath before turning the knob of the door. He entered the small dorm room, his heart fluttering when he saw you sitting on Remus’ mattress. Your head snapped up, your face full of delightful expectation for Remus, but it faded just as fast as it came when you saw it was Sirius. He definitely noticed, but tried not to take it to heart. Your eyes were locked in with his, and you could already tell something was up.

“Hey.” Sirius said plainly, and in a bit of a squeak.

“Hi.” You replied.

He was honestly surprised that you actually gave him an answer. He thought you might’ve ignored him completely. The joyous relief that he felt from you actually talking to him was almost enough to send him to his knees, pleading for you to give him another chance.

His gaze did shift to the book that was placed next to you. It was your Herbology textbook, the same one that Sirius had been studying from earlier that day.

“Studying for Herbology?” Sirius asked, but obviously that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

“Yeah,” You answered, unsure of what exactly was happening, “I was just waiting for Remus.”

Sirius nodded, avoiding the sting that burned in his chest at the reminder that he hadn’t truly seen you in almost a month. You looked so comfortable in the large sweater and the blanket that was draped over your lap. Your hair was slightly messy from the breeze outside that you had walked through to get here. Your skin was glowing from the warmth of their room and the sudden interaction you were having with Sirius.

You looked perfect to him.

He knew he needed to say something now. He needed to kick start this conversation before things got awkward and weird. Although, he never minded silence as long as he had you to occupy his every thought. All the things that he had planned to say were abruptly wiped from his mind. He was going out on a limb here, totally about to wing this. He just had to go for it.

“Can I sit?” He questioned, referring to the slight open space next to you.

You nodded hesitantly, shifting over so he could have a little more room. He sat down just about a foot in front of you, both of you turning to face each other. James and Remus were just outside the door, their ears pressed up against the door to be sure they didn’t miss anything.

Sirius looked at you for a few moments, taking in your curious, attentive behavior. He took a breath, and spoke again, but it came out as more of a ramble.

“Baby, I know I’ve hurt your feelings. I didn’t want or mean to hurt your feelings, but sometimes I just say stupid shit and then I’m too proud to admit that I said something stupid and...” He trailed off when he realized that so far he wasn’t saying anything that you didn’t already know.

This was yet another reminder that Sirius wasn’t a great talker. But he wanted to let you know the things that you didn’t already know. He wanted you to know that he was truly sorry. He was sorry for ever making you feel like you weren’t worth anything to him.

He wanted you to know that you were his world.

“I miss you,” He began again, preparing for any possible reaction from you, “I’m sorry for everything I said. I’m sorry that I hurt you...I never, ever wanted to do that.”

Your silence wasn’t because you weren’t believing what he was saying or because you didn’t want to listen. You were silent because you were floored that this was happening. Never in a million years did you think that you’d be sitting here listening to a real, heartfelt apology from Sirius Black. The thought of you leaving him had really scared him, and you could see it.

“I know I’m different from Moony and Prongs. They’re a bit better at this than I am,” He admitted, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Truth be told, you weren’t really mad at Sirius anymore. You could never stay angry at him. Your whole avoid-Sirius-at-all-costs routine hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park for you either. There were several times where you were tempted to just let it go and forget about it. But now you were glad that you hadn’t done that, because you would’ve lost this opportunity to understand one another a little better.

“All I had wanted that day was to talk to you. I like talking to you,” You explained, “I just get frustrated when you don’t want to listen and the only thing you can think about is fucking me.”

Sirius sighed, his eyes diverting to his hands that were fiddling with the edge of the blanket in your lap. He had known that the other two boys were right, but hearing it come from you made him feel even more guilty.

“I know. I guess I’m just not good at talking. It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just...not what I’m good at. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t important,” Sirius confessed, “But I do love you. And I don’t want to go another day without you.”

Another silence filled the room, one that had Sirius’ heart pounding in his chest. He felt like his entire life was on the line. Like, his entire fate was resting on whatever you were going to say or do next. You had every right to get up and walk out and never speak to him again. He knew he had crossed so many lines so many times that it was a wonder you were still here. He just hoped that you’d give him another chance. He hoped that he deserved another chance.

You were starstruck. You were completely touched and moved by what he had said. Maybe it wasn’t the most flawless apology ever. Maybe it was a little rough around the edges with a couple of hiccups. But deep down it was true, honest, and pure.

Just like the Sirius Black that you had come to love.

He didn’t have anything else to say, and he hoped that what he had said was enough. Your warm hand came to his face, his head lulling into your palm when you brought his worried eyes to look at you once more.

“I love you. I promise you don’t have to go without me anymore.” You smiled, accepting his apology and offering your forgiveness.

All color returned to Sirius’ face, his shoulders relaxing and his chest releasing a bated breath. You captured his lips into a needy kiss, one that was nothing short of long awaited. Sirius’ hands came to the side of your neck, his blood pumping in his ears. He had missed this.

He had missed you.

He was even more thrilled when you crawled over into his lap, his hands guiding your legs around him as he refused to let you go from his lips. Although, when the other two boys came bursting in, your hot make out session was forced to a halt. They came in as if they had no idea what was going on, fake surprised expressions plastered on their faces.

“Well, hello there.” James chided with a smirk.

“Did we miss something?” Remus asked.

You and Sirius only laughed, as the four of you crammed together on Remus’ bed. Sirius continued to pepper kisses wherever he could while you craned your head to look at James as he spoke.

“So, I guess the two of you got things worked out?” James acquired.

“We sure did.” You smiled, giggling when Sirius’ kisses brushed against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

Your lips found his again, Sirius leaning you back onto the mattress and keeping secured there. When your breathing began to get heavy and your noises became a little hungrier, James and Remus announced their exit.

“Well, I suppose Prongs and I will leave you to it.” Remus winked.

Sirius broke the kiss only to respond, but that didn’t stop you from leaning upwards to suck on his pulse point, not even phased by what Remus had said.

“You two aren’t going to stick around?” Sirius wondered, groaning as your hips rolled into his quickly hardening dick through his pants.

James shrugged.

“We’ll let it slide this time,” He said triumphantly, ushering Remus out the door, “Besides, the two of you have some catching up to do.”

Sirius let out a guttural laugh as he took a moment to look down at you. You looked so beautiful sprawled out underneath him; your lips swollen from the kissing and your eyes blown with lustful expectation. He knew he’d never be able to take you for granted again.

“My pretty girl...” He mewled, “I love you. A million times over I’ll tell you that I love you.”

“I love you, Siri,” You hummed, swiping a loose piece of hair from his forehead, “Now make me cum the way I know you know how to.”

Sirius chuckled lowly at your boldness, his pupils dilating at the flush of arousal that sent through him. You knew better than to tell him how to run his show, but he knew this was a special occasion, so he didn’t mind taking an order or two.

“Well, now, what happened to ‘sex doesn’t fix everything’?” Sirius joked.

“It doesn’t, but we already fixed what needed to be fixed by talking,” You smiled, “Now we just both get something we want.”

Sirius laughed out loud, continuing his shower of kisses and swiping your skirt off in one swift move, your body squirming with anticipation. He felt confident that things would be better now. He was more than thankful that he had another shot at this. He was happy he had you back, and the four of you could go back to normal.

And now things would be even better than before.

***

Tags: @justadreamyhufflepuff @satellitespidey @blackpinkdolan @gubleryum @gxtitobxby @risingtripletaurus

#sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black x fem!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #james potter x fem!reader #sirius black oneshot #remus lupin oneshot #james potter oneshot #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #the marauders #the marauders x reader #the marauder x female reader #Harry Potter #seriouslysnape

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sofiadragon · 2 years

Text

My feelings about season 2 of the Loki series are currently very similar to when I found out what else Steven Moffat and JK Rowling had presented to the public.

Ranting about the value of authorial intent, boycotting bigots, and asking the universe why a company like Disney lets people write about things they know nothing about under the cut.

I loved Doctor Who, and I enjoyed it enough to keep watching each episode as it came out through the end of of Matt Smith because the actors were clearly enjoying themselves and individual episodes were good, but the resolution of the story arcs was so bad after Tennant left and I knew that wasn't down to Smith's acting ability. Nice setup, bad play, over and over again. I expected a long con for River Song, but then after she was revealed to be a bespoke assasin designed to manipulate him on every level the Doctor just... boned her anyway? Despite being an ace romantic for the last 50 years? Explicitly so, what with how his people didn't reproduce sexually and that is a plot point even in the new series. That was hardly the only storyline with a very strange ending that left myself (and many other fans) dissatisfied.

I didn't get why the show made such a turn for the worse, and it was my complete disinterest in authorial intent, backstage drama, and entertainment news interviews kicking me in the ass. (As it occasionally does.) Moffat can do a lot of things, and his individual episodes are often fantastic, but bringing a season long story arc to a beautiful end is just not one of them. When I read what his intent was for these stories I just laughed. I didn't take away half the things he expected a casual fan to notice, let alone the deeper meanings that people like me who love to rewatch and theory craft supposedly should have seen. It all felt rushed and unfinished at best, a bit of deus ex machina at worst.

Nope, you failed the assignment. It's just more embarrassing because you are the one who defined the assignment in the first place. I hated the end of Sherlock too, (S4) and now I know that I'll probably love the setup and hate the resolution for anything Moffat makes because that is just how he makes things.

I think there is a lot of value in looking at what someone made without director commentary because bad things can be made with the best of intentions and good things can be made by very problematic people. I have no interest in entertaining JK Rowling's asinine declaration that Dumbledore and Lupin as written in the 7 HP books are good queer representation. The things she says and promotes about trans people are disgusting. However, that doesn't change what I experienced when I read the books or the community I found among fans at the time. It means I won't consume new things she makes and, to be fully honest, cemented my view that a film or book contains what it contains and should be criticized or praised separately from the people who made it. Pottermore became the worst bit of public self-pleasuring I've yet seen. All her cut and extra content for the world neither added much nor was a loss to the main story. She believes that while an individual can do great things, systemic change is always bad and honestly that both predates and supersedes her being a terf in my decision to avoid her other work.

This view was only maintained when my own fanfiction started getting nasty comments about how this or that fannon theory was bunkum when those fannon theories didn't appear in my story, they only existed in other stories with similar tags. This is how I consume media and how I evaluate narratives, and if that isn't for you then that's fine. It doesn't mean I ignore bigots or that I don't think anyone deserves to be judged when they show their ugly to the world.

So... the Loki series. Turns out a show with a main character who has been canonically queer for the last *checks Norse mythology* twelve centuries or so was made by bigots. Now I am a strong believer that if you do your research and are hard working you can write about anything and be respectful about it, but that's assuming you aren't deeply opposed to the core subject matter. There is nothing I have seen to show that Tom Hiddleston has this issue, but from the writers on down to the actress playing the main character (not Loki but Sylvie, who seems like his replacement as the "superior" version of the character according to the show) are either openly bigots or are blinded by their entitled ignorance of why Loki went off the rails in the first place.

What the actual Hela is this? Does Sylvie need to be played by a bi or genderqueer person for me to be happy? No. It would be nice and I think since *insert current year argument* we are where we are it is absolutely possible to have that kind of face- on- screen representation, but that isn't necessary if you have good actors willing to shoot the sorts of scenes that role requires.

The writers room is where the diversity needs to be, it has to be in the initial creation. On a project of this scale (meaning the MCU) all these scripts have teams and assistants and editors crawling over the story - you can claim one person wrote the thing and I'll just laugh in your face. A specific scene, maybe, but there is a committee involved in this and it isn't small. All the way down to the directors talking about the tone and the actors improvising lines they think work better, this is a group project.

I could name a hundred terrible books written by bigots about this or that minority that perpetuate a host of horrible stereotypes. I could show you the movies where some of that filth was scrubbed off the source material by less or non-bigoted script writers, directors, and cast. Here is one low-hanging fruit: Look at the difference between how the Fifty Shades trilogy treats BDSM kink as a mental illness purely caused by abuse that can be cured with love and vanilla heterosexual intercourse and reproduction and the movie where consent takes center stage (or tries to.)

When the initial cut of meat is full of maggots it doesn't matter how you try to trim it up or what spices you use, the meal will be tainted. Disney hiring people who find no value in core parts of the main character's identity to make a TV series is the stupidest decision they have made in the entire MCU.

#loki series #loki series criticism #harry potter critical #Steven Moffat criticism #death of the author #doesn't save bigots from the flames #mcu #loki meta #marvel #disney criticism #disney lgbtq hostility #I'm just saying I can see Hiddleston reading a script with a male-male kiss and nodding #but if SDM read a page about kissing a woman she'd be upset #haven't all British actors done drag at least once before they are allowed a leading role in Shakespeare?#He'd do the genderfluid parts if they were in the script #he just wouldn't think to make a scene like that up in improv without prompting probably #jk Rowling criticism

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

Text

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 8

X helped Grian sit back down and handed Grian a clean rag from his inventory. Grian pressed it against his nose to curb the bleeding as X checked his eyes. X asked Grian several basic questions before asking him to count backwards from 100 by sevens and listened as his friend struggled.

“100… 97 no 93… 87... um... um, ow-” He faltered, staring into space for a long moment.

“You’ve got a concussion.” X shook his head.

“Can’t I just take a health pot and get back to work?” Grian asked.

X folded his arms and shook his head “Health pot’s don’t work like that. You know how when you take a health pot the cuts all seal up just leaving some bruising. A concussion is just a bruise on your brain so it would be kind of useless. Regen might help a little because it boosts your body's natural healing process but it has the same problem as health in that it won't target bruising. I would avoid coffee for now and anything else with speed pots in it for that matter,” X added, noticing Grian reaching for his unfinished coffee mug.

Grian pouted “What can I do?”

“You can go home and rest... though you probably shouldn’t be flying for a while. I’ll walk back with you.”

Grian sighed and let X help him to his feet. To be honest he was starting to like the idea of resting, his head was spinning and he was having trouble focusing. “Alright, you win. Just be sure to let me know if you figure anything out about the whole server problem will you.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know,”

---

The day before, Scar and Grian had given Skeppy and George a tour of Boatem. Scar had offered to let the two of them stay in his landboat (As it had more space than Grian’s house) till they could make their own starter bases.

Skeppy had been startled when, as soon as it started to get dark, the sun blipped in the sky and it was on the other horizon. George explained to him that the night was skipped here, something to do with a Time King named B-dubs. He apparently could cause night to skip for everyone if he slept. George wished he could do cool things like that when he slept, as it was, all he did was talk to demons or gods or whatever XD was. Skeppy insisted that was way cooler than time powers. George didn’t believe him.

Grian had left to work with X on the server problem and Scar was off gathering some stuff to help get them settled in. This left Skeppy and George alone to snoop around Boatem town on their own. They explored Scar’s base but soon became tired of that and went outside.

They were nosing around Grian’s base and the nether portal when Skeppy noticed something odd. There were a lot of things here he had never seen before but this felt different somehow. It was about a foot in diameter, dark and smooth and round, shining with a deep purple iridescence, and it seemed to call to Skeppy, like the egg, like the blood vines. It called to him, not quite with words but more with instinct, urging him to touch it. Skeppy reached out-

“What’s that you found?” George called snapping Skeppy out of his trance.

“I have no clue,” Skeppy shrugged.

George came closer and squinted behind his glasses, bringing his face close to the things surface. The air around it tingled like static. “I never saw one myself but I think it might be a Dragon egg,” George said, reaching his hand out to touch it.

Skeppy shoved George out of the way and grabbed for the egg. He was going to be the first one to touch it. The Dragon Egg. His fingers brushed against the smooth surface then fell through to air. He stumbled and caught himself on the now empty quartz pedestal.

“What the hell, Skeppy?” George protested. Then his eyes fell on the egg sitting on the grass not far from him.

They’d both seen it. Skeppy caught his eyes. They held each other's gaze, silently urging the other to stay put. They both lunged for it.

Skeppy collided with George practically landing on top of him but it was too late George's hand knocked into the egg and it disappeared.

Both of them scrambled to their feet looking for where it went. Skeppy found it over the hill but hesitated before reaching for it this time.

“No you don’t” George cried coming up behind him. Skeppy jumped at the sound seconds before George tackled him directly into the egg and it was gone again.

“Ow ow- hold on, get off,” Skeppy protested, pushing his palm against George’s face trying to shove George off himself, “This isn’t working. It’s being all teleporty and shit.”

George backed off, and huffed to himself, as he brushed himself off.

“What are you two doing?” Scar said as he came over. “Oh look,” He stopped as he noticed the dragon egg at his feet. He placed down a piston next to it and a button and *boop* the egg was pushed right into his arms. He picked up the egg and looked back at the two who were still sitting on the ground, grass stains on their clothes and hair disheveled from their fight. “Looks like you two touched the egg. Don’t worry, I won’t tell Grian,” He said with a wink placing it back on the pedestal.

Skeppy and George just stared at him. “Wait, how did you do that!” Skeppy shrieked pointing.

Scar laughed, “The egg can be tricky, it doesn't like being touched but you can trick it into thinking it isn’t being held by using a piston. You can also break the block underneath it and catch it as it falls, just make sure to place a torch first... something about the heat is important.”

“I’m holding it!” Skeppy announced scrambling to his feet and moving towards the egg.

“Who says you get the egg, I saw it too,” George argued.

“We’ll I saw it first,” Skeppy retorted, sticking his tongue out, summoning his shovel from his inventory.

George scowled “You didn’t even know what it was till I told you.” He summoned his netherite axe from his inventory, the one XD had given him.

“Well you didn’t even know that it teleported so-” Skeppy started digging down next to the pedestal.

“Woh woh woh, you both can hold it if you want,” Scar said trying to break up the tension “You can’t keep it though, it’s Grian’s,” He added.

Skeppy and George both turned and glared at him. There was a calculating pause then George’s posture changed, he seemed to relax. “Heh- sorry about that,” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “It’s just neither of us have ever seen a dragon egg, guess we got a bit carried away,” He shrugged.

George wanted that Dragon egg more than anything. Skeppy probably did too. That was the rarest thing on the server and if someone could get it and bring it back to the Dream SMP then they would be the most powerful person on the server. But there were a lot of hermits. Way more than the two of them. It was probably best that they not make them mad. He could find a way to get the egg without them noticing another time.

Skeppy looked surprised and a little too satisfied with himself as he continued to dig out under the pedestal. He placed the torch and mined away the pedestal catching the egg as it fell. It was surprisingly warm, he felt it vibrating with power as he held it against his chest, his arms wrapped around it, nestled in the folds of his bright blue hoodie. He grinned, he felt like a proud father, why did he feel like a proud father? He hadn’t even felt this way about Sapnap and he practically helped Bad raise him… multiple times.

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, it's not that great,” George scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Hey Scar, can you come over here real quick” X called as he and Grian walked back into Boatem town.

“Yeah, be right over,” Scar called back before turning to Skeppy and George “Just make sure to put it back,” He said before running over to see what X and Grian needed.

George glared at Skeppy over his glasses, he was still holding his ax. “You're putting it back ok,”

Skeppy turned his body to put himself between George and the egg. “And why should I?” He pouted.

“Because,” George said calmly and quietly, so the others talking by Grian’s house couldn’t hear, “If you take it now they will know it was us and won’t let us leave.” George watched the gears turn in Skeppies head “So truce for now... we work together to steal the egg later,”

Skeppy glanced off to the side as he thought about it. Finally he nodded “Alright, agreed,” His fingers were crossed.

George grinned and pushed his glasses back into place “Great.” His fingers were crossed.

Skeppy climbed out of the hole and George helped him put the dirt and pedestal back. Skeppy begrudgingly let George hold the egg before putting it back on the Pedestal.

Ok so maybe holding the egg was kind of cool George thought smiling softly before Skeppy made him put it back.

---

“So what’s up?” Scar asked coming over to join X and Grian. Now that Scar looked at him, Grian wasn’t looking too great. His feathers and hair were rumpled more than usual and he was leaning on X’s arm. “You ok there?”

“Yeah, Just got a concussion.” Grian shrugged.

“He flew into a barrier while trying to get into the Dream SMP Server,” X explained.

“Oof,” Scar winced at the description.

“He should be fine after a month or so, he just needs to rest and not do anything too strenuous.” X continued, “Also it is probably a good idea not to let him sleep unsupervised for a couple of days.”

“Got it,” Scar nodded “I’ll be sure to keep him in line,”

“C'mon guys, you don’t trust me?” Grian teased.

“I wouldn’t trust you with a ten foot pole,” Scar laughed.

“Fair,” Grian chuckled, “Well anyway, thanks for walking with me back here X” He said letting go of X’s arm.

“No problem, just take it easy, got it?” X reminded Grian.

“Don’t worry. Besides this means I’ll have plenty of time to help the new guys settle in.” Grian added as he noticed Skeppy and George standing looking at his Dragon egg.

“Oh no you don’t. You are going inside and resting,” Scar said, taking Grian by the shoulders and guiding him into his house.

“No, but- I, I’m fine really,” Grian protested

“No buts, You rest, I’ll take care of everything.” Scar insisted and Grian gave up, letting himself be led off to bed.

[So I know I said I already had a bunch written in advance but when editing this part I realized I needed to add some interactions with Skeppy and George. I really like how this turned out but it is now longer than I originally planned so I am breaking it up into sub parts. The next segment will be out soon]

#dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft dsmp swap au #hc x dsmp #hc x dsmp au #grian #watcher grian #xisuma #good times with scar #skeppy #georgenotfound

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dreamy-writings · 3 years

Text

Sick S/O HCS! (Todoroki, Midoriya, Shigaraki, Bakugou & Kirishima)

Shigaraki Tomura

“Are you dying or something?” “No.” “Then shut the hell up, my head hurts.” Him, after a minute of you coughing. My gosh. He’s not the type to spoil, but thankfully Toga has that taken care of.

Little did you know that Toga has also scolded Shigaraki for being so careless with you. He’s supposed to take care of you more than that, look at how cute you are, especially when you’re so helpless!

He waves her off, but eventually feels bad because he loves you and he doesn’t like to see the people he loves hurting, even if it’s just a simple illness. Makes sure that Kurogiri is taking care of giving you your medicine and is cooking the right stuff for you, boy can’t cook to save his life.

Sits next to you and plays video games, showing you how good he is. And when he rage quits and you laugh, he bites back the little smile threatening to show on his face.

Todoroki Shouto It’d take a while for him to catch on, but once he does he’d worry. If you deny it he’d just pout, and look down. “Y/N, do you not trust me?” He knows what he’s doing because immediately after that you’d tell him and he’d feel relieved that he knew because he could take good care of you then. If you even object about resting then he’ll have to hug you, and give you a soft kiss on the cheek, while mumbling quietly. “Please? Do it for me, love.” Ugh, you can’t resist. He’s just adorable. He chuckles a bit once you give in and go rest on your bed. He’d sit next to you and wrap you up in his arms, warming you up. You’d told him you prefer him more than your blanket after all. “You might get sick.” “So?” He tells Fuyumi to send him food. He’s just really bad at cooking and he wants to make sure you eat something good, especially when you’re sick.

Just a very cuddly nice babey.

Midoriya Izuku You’d try to hide it so you don’t worry him. But he’s very, very observant. Like really observant. Have you seen his notebooks? He’s smart, and you’re important to him, of course he’d notice. He’d try to ask you if you’re okay at first, and you’d just say you’re fine when you were clearly not. He’d respect your choice not to tell him, but poor babey would think that he’s doing something wrong if you don’t want to tell him.

Once it gets worse, he’d pick you up and put you down on the bed. “Y/N, you need to rest.” “But I have homewo-” “Rest.” He’s very firm when it comes to your health, like his mother. He just worries about you so much.

He’d finish up everything you have to do, because he knows how anxious it makes you feel to have unfinished work. Will spend a lot of time with you because he doesn’t want you to get lonely :( he’s so cute.

Bakugou Katsuki

Like his childhood friend, Bakugou is also extremely smart and observant. But the way he deals with that situation is completely different. He doesn’t even need to ask. He just slings you over his shoulder and takes you to your dorm room then tosses you onto the bed.

“Dumbass, what were you thinking training when you’re sick like that?!” He says, as he drapes a blanket over you and sends a message to Aizawa that you’ll be taking a break until you’re feeling better. Can he stop being a mom? He literally makes you soup, will feed you if you’re tired, checks your temperature every two hours, like. Please chill. And, if you even try to get up and do anything, he’d just push you down onto the bed and lecture you for half an hour straight. It’s a wonder him and Iida don’t get along, because what the hell? He’s a good caretaker.

Kirishima Eijirou

He’d notice early on, and he’d tell you. It’s just manly to be honest about it!

He’d help you finish up everything you have to, then he’d take you to a doctor. Don’t even object, he’s taking you there, whether you want it or not. It’s just the safer option! He’d ask Bakubro to help him cook, but his cooking was so bad that Bakugou almost felt sad for him and cooked for you himself. Would probably turn on your favorite TV show to watch it with you if that’s what you want to do while resting, but really, he’d join in for any activity you want. He’d even talk to you about stupid stuff he did as a child if you’re that bored, he just wants to make sure you’re feeling okay and that you get well soon! But he knows how boring being sick is. Would only stop taking care of you when the doctor says you’re okay. He’s amazing.

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c-is-writing · 3 years

Text

intimacy

pairing: lena luthor x gn!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1894

warnings: none

a/n: okay ngl i was pretty head empty while writing it so i apologize if this made no absolute sense :’D

original request

It all began with a simple brush against her hand that led to two hands intertwined with each other, swinging back and forth as the two of you walked through a park. The sun was setting, casting a peach light across all surfaces before transitioning into shades of pink and purple until settling into the dark blue of the night. You lean your head on Lena’s shoulder as the two of you continued to walk under the dim lamps scattered along the path. It was almost as if you were the only two people in the whole world. As you absentmindedly hum a tune, Lena could feel the heat rush to her cheeks, painting them red like the sunset sky. The warmth radiating off your body pressed against her side comforted her in a way that she never knew she needed until now. The hand connected to yours suddenly feels burning hot but Lena makes no effort to remove it. There’s no way a Luthor, someone who is meant to be cold and cruel and undeserving of this sort of comfort, could enjoy something like this. Right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong. Ever since that park date, Lena has practically become addicted to your touch. She constantly craves it like a smoker with a cigarette but she has restraint, she has an image to uphold as a Luthor. To her, it’s almost embarrassing how quickly she gives into your touch. Despite the embarrassment, the CEO is willing to do anything to feel your touch on her skin again.

A knock on the office door brings her out of her dilemma as she looks up to meet your bright smile and bag of takeout in your hand. Immediately feeling a warmth bloom in her chest, she returns the smile as you make your way towards her. Placing the bag down on a spot that’s not covered by papers, you finally greet your lover.

“Hey, Lee.”

“Hi, love.”

“Are you ready to take a quick lunch break or do you still need to finish some work?”

Glancing at the unfinished document on her screen, Lena shakes her head and says, “I’m more than ready for lunch, I’m starving. Just let me clear off my desk first.”

Giving her an okay, you take the bag to the coffee table and settle down, watching as Lena organizes the files. You reach into the brown bag to pull out the lunch items when you hear a gasp. Your head shoots up to see Lena holding her finger tightly. Rushing over you quickly ask, “Is everything okay? What happened?”

Almost laughing, Lena waves it off as nothing major. “I just got a papercut that’s all.”

“May I take a look at it?”

“Oh, sure, I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” Lena says after seeing the concern in your eyes.

She watches as you grab a bandaid from the first aid kit in the office and return to the table. Lena’s heart practically stops as you go to grab the injured hand. The gentle, feather-like grasp on her finger was enough to make her melt on the spot. As you wrap the bandage around the small cut, you press a soft kiss to it before placing her hand back into her lap. At this point, Lena has been reduced to a very flustered and embarrassed mess as her brain scrambles to understand what just happened. You were so gentle and loving with Lena that she could feel your adoration and care for her through your actions. Lena quickly clears her throat to hopefully pause her panicking mind and calm her racing heart.

Noticing how Lena is still sitting in her chair, you take one of her hands and lead her to the couch where the two of you talked and had lunch together. Throughout the conversation and eating, Lena could still feel where you kissed her finger as if she touched a hot stove. Imagine a Luthor being this soft for someone. She can’t enjoy your touch. She’s not allowed to. Or at least, that’s what Lillian kept telling her. Luthors are cruel aren’t they? They are undeserving of love and care, so why should this be any different for Lena? Why does she have to feel so embarrassed about wanting your touch?

Following the papercut incident, Lena found herself exaggerating her headaches and migraines from working constantly at L-Corp just so you could take care of her and cuddle the pain away. This went on for a few weeks and eventually you caught onto what she was trying to do. You realized that early on in the relationship, you always initiated physical contact with Lena and in those moments, she would tense up, making you think that she was uncomfortable with it. Later on, you learned that Lena is trying to get used to receiving so much physical love because it’s still new to her. So, you began to give it to her in small doses whether it was hand holding or pecks on the cheek before you left the apartment. Now, you see that Lena wants more but she’s either too afraid or too embarrassed to ask for it.

Looking down at the CEO that’s currently in your arms, you quietly laugh at the realization and almost find it endearing. You tuck that thought into the back of your mind as you readjust your position on the couch and tighten your hold on Lena. She snuggles a bit deeper into your chest as your focus falls back onto the movie playing on the TV. Maybe, it’s okay to let herself relish your touch as long as you were hers. After all, the Luthor name is simply a name, not a rule for her to follow.

A few days later, you find yourself heading back to your shared apartment where Lena is currently resting. According to Jess, she wasn’t feeling well and decided to take the rest of the day off to ensure that she could recover and work more efficiently tomorrow. It became a normal occurrence for Jess to call you whenever Lena was unwell so that you could take care of her. Upon arriving at the apartment, you find the raven-haired woman curled up in bed. At the sound of the bedroom door opening, she immediately sits up as her eyes light up when they lock with yours. You send her a loving smile as you say, “Lena, I want you to be honest with me.”

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Lena simply answers, “Okay…”

“Are you actually feeling unwell or is this an excuse to have me take care of you?”

The moment the question leaves your mouth, Lena’s eyes widen. Shit. Unsure of what to do as you watch Lena try to formulate a response, you decide to turn around and head to the kitchen to start preparing for dinner. As you’re about to leave, Lena desperately calls out, “Y/N, wait!”

Pausing, you turn back around and tilt your head, expecting a response. As she slowly begins to speak, Lena breaks eye contact in favor of tracing the patterns of the bedsheets with her eyes.

“I-, um, yeah, it was an excuse and I’m really sorry for disturbing you while you were at work for this.”

Watching as Lena slumps over in shame, you make your way to the bed and sit down next to her. Quietly waiting for her to continue and give you a reason, an awkward silence fills the bedroom. You’re the first to break the silence.

“Lee, you know I love you right?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Okay, so then, why? Why did you feel the need to make excuses to get me to come?”

“Well, um…” Lena trails off while continuing to look at the bedsheets, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Babe, if you don’t give me a reason then I’m not giving you any cuddles until you tell me.”

At your words, Lena’s head flies up, exposing her flustered state.

“Wait, no, that’s not fair.” She whines as she tries to wrap her arms around you.

Laughing, you do your best to push her off. With a soft smile, you tell her, “I just want my girlfriend to communicate with me and if I have to revoke cuddling privileges to get you to communicate then I’m going to do it.”

Lena lets out a sigh as she realizes that you’re going to stick to your words and she loves your touch too much to lose it over her slight issue with communicating properly in relationships. Readying herself, she allows the Luthor mindset to slip away from her mind as she opens up to you.

“I really like your touch and I was just afraid of how much I liked it because I wasn’t sure if I deserved it. When I was young, I was always told that Luthors don’t deserve love or care because of our cold nature. But the way you hold me made me melt and I felt tingly all over.” quickly adding in, “In a good way, I promise!”. She takes a deep breath before continuing, “I guess I just felt embarrassed of how strongly I wanted physical contact with you because I wasn’t sure if you would give that much to me. In the back of my mind, I thought that you were giving me all of this physical affection because you felt obligated to and not out of love.”

Taking in her words, your expression begins to soften as you pull Lena into your arms. Your fingers slowly trace random patterns into her back as you begin to speak.

“Oh, Lena, sweetheart. I love you so so much. I’m so sorry that you felt undeserving of this love and attention but I can definitely assure you that you deserve it all and so much more. You are so kind and you are everything that the Luthor name isn’t. You’ve worked so hard at L-Corp and trying to rebrand it as a company for good instead of how it was made before you.” Pulling away, you cup her face in your hands. “I promise that all of the affection that I freely give to you is out of love and not obligation. I will do everything I can to give you all of the love that you deserve. If you ever want cuddles, just ask okay? I’m definitely more than happy to cuddle you whenever you want.”

With your final statement, you seal your promises to Lena with a soft kiss. You pull away from her to see her eyes brimming with tears. She simply nods at your words and you pull her into your chest once again. Lena has never felt so loved in her whole life. You practically radiate love and warmth that she will gladly receive without feeling as embarrassed now. Letting out a sigh of relief, Lena feels lighter now that she was able to open up to you. Before fully settling into your embrace, Lena asks one more question.

“So, does this mean I get my cuddling privileges back?”

Feeling the vibrations in your chest as you laugh, Lena smiles as you reply, “Yes, your cuddling privileges are no longer revoked and you can now ask for them whenever you want. Just promise that you won’t make any more excuses, alright?”

“I promise.”

taglist (all): @teenwonder @procrastinatingsapphictrash @owloftheshadows

#*mine #lena luthor x reader #lena luthor x gn!reader #lena luthor x you #lena luthor #supergirl imagine #dc imagine #send help i'm so tired lmao #no thoughts head empty

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xo-cuteplosion-xo · 3 years

Note

I’m going through a rough time atm and I was wondering if you’re okay if I request some characters with a s/o who is just tired a lot, can’t concentrate and don’t really have energy to do stuff.

I wish I knew what characters were your comfort characters, so I could make this even better for you! I hope you feel better and the little quick drabbles help you a bit. I went with my 3 most requested, as they tend to be more often than not comfort characters. I hope that’s alright with you! Feel free to drop another request for a character that I didn’t include here.

For hard times |Dazai, Chuuya, Atsushi x Reader|

Warnings: implied depression, symptoms of depression.

Genre: comfort-

Total words- 1504

Dazai:

417 words

From the start of this, he had suspicions you were feeling a little down. Watching you sit alone and look less cheery with the passing hours, days, maybe it had been a few weeks. He wanted to make you feel better, but he didn’t know how to. He was after all in your position most of the time. Unmotivated and too tired to do anything, let alone want to move about. He wanted to know what was pushing your mood down. This need grew stronger the longer he watched your tired expression. There was nothing this man wanted more than to make you feel better. Even if he didn’t understand what it was, that was pulling you under.

With careful steps, he walked over to you with a soft blanket, woven with soft strands of silky yarn. He set it over your shoulders, wrapping it around you. Watching your half-lidded eyes look over to him from the unexpected gesture he simply shook his head. Pressing his hand to your cheek, he softly smiled. The slight lift to his lips was only ever revealed to you. This kind, gentle, serious expression was his vulnerability. He hoped you would open up your woes to him. Let you rant and pour whatever feelings were bottling up and slowly dragging you down. He didn’t care what it was, a co-worker, a friend, a relationship of some kind, an ex, your family life, he just needed to help you. So as he watched you with honest worry, he pulled you close, so your head rested on his chest. “When you're ready, I’ll be here for you to drop your pain.” His voice was softer, lacking his signature playful teasing. There was nothing but an oddly comforting smoothness to his voice. Low and slightly choked as he held you. He was unsure if this little reassurance; this little contact comforted you.

He’d hold you until you could no longer cry, or until you were peacefully asleep. Even then, he’d keep your body close to his. If he were to fall asleep, he would not let you go. He would never let you go, not until you felt safe and slightly better. Even if it was only half a percent of a change, he would be happy to have helped your mood lift. He’s never going to push you to tell him what’s bothering you. He won’t ask you to do anything you don’t want to. Well, except eat, he can’t have you starving.

Chuuya:

474 words

He’d be too caught up with work to notice it immediately, the changes in your mood and behavior. That doesn't mean he never does though. Out of everybody in the mafia, you were the most important to him. He was willing to take any risk to keep you safe. If he finds out because you don’t show up and refuse to drag yourself from bed, he shakes his head, refuse wouldn’t be the right word here. It’s more like he understands you can’t. Something is crushing you like a weight, and he becomes determined to fix that issue. He hardly ever talks softly, but around your tired, nearly life-less form he’s soft. His steps aren't loud stomps, but instead a soft pattern of clicks. The heels of his shoes provide you a perfect rhythm. He’ll buy you chocolate because of the serotonin that they’re proven to induce. He never asks for details, he knows you would tell him if you needed to. However, just in case you are staying silent about the weight that’s causing this pain, due to the fear he’ll think you are weak. He hints that he would never see you in such a dull fashion. “Hey, you know you can always tell me if something is wrong, right? You know I keep my word, I won't judge or tell anybody else.” There was more he wanted to say. Part of that was an expression of how much he cared about you. He stayed silent in fear he would be selfish in doing so. If those words are the trigger for you to slip from holding it all in, he wraps you in his arms and lets you do what you need to.

He doesn't care if you shout, pound your fists against his chest, cry, or do a mix of all of that. He wants you to get it all out until that weight can start to loosen, and you can start to feel free from the troubles holding down your smile. He’ll hold you after your meltdown. He will not let anybody else see you. They will not get a chance to lay a finger on you. If a specific person was the cause, like an ex, a bully, a sibling, he’ll wait till you're peacefully asleep, then have a… talk with them. He warns them that if you’re ever hurt again, they won’t get off with simply being terrified for their life. He’s insanely protective of the people close to him. You get the front of that protective nature, you’re the one he cares for the most. Whether you return such feelings or not, it won’t change anything. He hates seeing your tears, so he’ll always be there for you to cling to in such times. You are never alone, he will always be there to support you.

Atsushi:

613 words

When he first noticed you were down, he was working; doing the work Dazai had shoved at him. He liked to think you were a hard worker, so seeing you so… tired was a slight abnormality to him. He noticed how you were struggling to stay concentrated. Every so often he’d look over and find you blankly staring off, eyes glossed over. When everybody else was gone, he walked to your desk whilst fidgeting with the hem of his gloves. Taking deep breaths, he was upfront about what he’d noticed. “Are you feeling alright?” "I-I could uh take you somewhere if you want.” If you tell him you're fine, he’ll hang his head before gathering the courage to confront the lie. Even your tone was different; it sounded almost as if you had given up on everything. He knew that low, depressed tone. He used to have such a pitch to his own voice before he found his place here. He remembered how much pain he had gone through. The mental baggage of the past, the fear of what he found out was his own ability. He didn’t want that to be the pain rising in your mind. He’d pull over a chair and swipe away the pile of unfinished requests. “You’re not though. I-I don’t want to intrude, but maybe… maybe you should take some time? You seem tired, I could get you some sweets and other things if you want.” He would mutter the words under his breath until you shrugged.

When he returned, he found you on the agency sofa doing nothing but holding yourself; too exhausted to attempt to do anything. You couldn’t, not with how you felt. The thoughts racing in your head were too much to hold on to on your own. You wondered how people got this far with such a mindset. So trapped in your thoughts, you never noticed Atsushi take a seat at the other end. Sliding down bags of candy and flavored sweet drinks. He knew sugar induced serotonin, but wasn’t sure if that worked with everybody. The next thing he decided to do was look to the side and speak to you again. “If you’re going through something, I'm… we’re all here for you. The entire agency, you know, we're kind of like our own family? If you're hurting or holding something all on your own, you can tell us.” Turning back to you, he inched closer and reached for your hand. With a slow movement, he rubbed the back of your hand. “I… really am here. I’ve felt like this before… I know how hard it can be to tell others what’s bothering you, but please… can you promise me you’ll fight?” When he noticed your confused face, he decided to say it. “You’re important to every single one of us. So please, if it gets too much and you want to take it to an extreme, please… please come to one of us.” His eyes sparkled with a plea. He wouldn’t know what to do if you did something to yourself out of this pain.

If those words cause you to rush in for a hug, he’ll return the embrace. Running his hand over your back in an attempt to comfort you. He’s not the best at comfort, but he does whatever he can to help. Whether you want to hear more reassurance or just have somebody to cling to while you're unmotivated.

These things will eventually get better, with the right people, the right comfort, the right hobbies. These moments pass and light will shine. He hopes you’ll be able to see the light peek from the clouds soon.

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dropssofjupitter · 3 years

Text

Coffee Cups and Cigarettes

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Ever since Fred’s near death experience at the battle of Hogwarts, everyone at the Burrow had been walking on eggshells around him and doting on him as much as they could. Everyone, that is, except you. The end of the war may have freed everyone else, but it changed and hardened you. And after a late night walk, Fred is going to find out just how much.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Mentions of war, PTSD, nightmares, not handling trauma in a healthy way, mentions of depression but not in an explicit way, depictions of smoking, very slight mention of drinking

Masterlist

A/N: I don’t even know where this came from but here have an angst fic. Also I’m really sorry for the lack of content lately! I’ve been struggling with my mental health and am trying to pull myself out of my rut by picking back up my unfinished fics.

You could still hear the screams. You could still remember watching bodies fall and the bright flashes of curses burst across your vision. You saw the bodies of Remus and Tonks, lying still, arms outstretched towards each other, every time you closed your eyes. You remembered the feeling of dread settling into your stomach as you spotted his deathly still body across the room, his family surrounding his body with tear stained faces.

Memories of the war haunted you every time you closed your eyes, suffocating you with their feelings of fear and desperation. They woke you up in a panicked frenzy night after night, hands gripping the bed sheets and desperately reaching for your wand out of impulse. Eventually, you stopped trying to sleep. Instead you took to sitting in your room, a cup of coffee in your hand and a book open on your lap. To the others, it seemed like you were coping, like you were trying to return to whatever sense of normalcy that you’d had before the war. They couldn’t have been more wrong. What they saw as coping, you knew was the opposite. Instead, you were using the books and insomnia as a way to ignore your feelings of inner turmoil and pain.

When the flashes of green curses began to overtake your vision every time a wave of exhaustion rolled through you, you turned to walks. You walked in the woods outside of the Burrow, letting the sickly sweet summer nights wash you in their cool heat as you walked for hours upon hours. You walked until your legs felt like jelly and your breath was coming out in short bursts; you walked until the orange hues of the sun tainted the dark night that had cloaked you for so long.

No one at the Burrow knew that you took such walks, and to be honest, you wanted to keep it that way. Your actions would only make them worry and try to reach out more, and as it was, you could hardly interact with them at all. Every time you looked at the Weasley’s or your friends, your head couldn’t help but to fill with what-if’s.

What if Harry hadn’t woken up? What if Ron had failed to dodge the killing curse? What if Hermione had decided to take on Nagini by herself? What if Mrs. Weasley hadn’t been able to kill Bellatrix? What if Fred had been unable to minimize the damage on the Confrigo curse?

They consumed you, those thoughts. They threatened to voice themselves every time you so much as glanced up at someone with red hair, so you kept to yourself. But while you sought solitude, everyone else sought comfort. Harry and Ginny were hardly apart from each other for long, hands clasped tightly at all times. They whispered in hushed voices in the corners of the rooms, strained smiles on their faces. At night, you could hear Ginny’s soft footsteps pass by your door as she headed to Harry’s room.

Ron and Hermione were complicated. They were often engaged in fights that soon evolved into screaming matches; sometimes Hermione won, other times Ron did. In the end, it never really mattered who won. The two of them would make up by dinner, and sit next to each other with their hands intertwined underneath the table and terse smiles on their faces, knowing that tomorrow they would have the exact same fight.

If Fred and George were close before, they were nearly inseparable now. They had closed their joke shop for the time being, giving Fred time to heal after his brush with death, and were often found trying their best to keep the mood in the house light. They knew all too well the importance of humor in dark times.

Fred had changed though, and you knew that you weren’t the only one who’d noticed it. You’d caught him staring into the distance multiple times, eyes trained on something that no one else could see. His skin would pale, his hands would shake, and sometimes it would take him an agonizingly long time to pull himself out of whatever he was seeing.

No one ever mentioned it. Instead, they chose to live in their blissful ignorance and show their support in ways that they were familiar with. They let him choose meals and take his seat first. They joked with him, let him choose the nights entertainment, never asked him to do any chores. They were walking on eggshells around him, and it was infuriating.

You knew that you could never tell them that, though. You knew that if you did, the entire structure that the family had been clinging to for so long would topple without warning. So you bit your tongue and forced a smile; forced yourself to laugh along with them at one of George’s strained jokes, and forced yourself into complacency.

And it had been working, until Fred had wandered outside and, subsequently, upon you leaning on the porch railing.

It was dark out, still the early hours of the morning, and you had a mug of steaming coffee clasped in your hands like a lifeline. Hearing the front door open, you looked over at him, obviously startled before looking quickly away once more. “I didn’t know that anyone else was up,” you said quietly, taking a small sip of your coffee and wincing as it burned the tip of your tongue.

He hesitated before replying, moving to sit on the rickety steps that connected the porch to the ground. “Neither did I,” he replied with a small smile, fiddling with a package in his hand as he looked out at the fields surrounding his home.

You glanced over at him and nodded to his hands. “What are those?” you asked, doing your best to make conversation as the two of you were bathed in starlight. You hoped it wasn’t incredibly obvious that you were uncomfortable with him being outside with you. It felt like he was encroaching on your safe space, but you didn’t have the heart to kick him out.

His hands stop flipping the package and he stilled for a moment before forcing a smile onto his face and opening it. He looked over at you as he pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips before taking a lighter out of his shirt pocket. “My secret to staying sane,” he replied, lighting the cigarette and placing the nearly empty container on the step next to him.

You tried to force a smile, mouth turning up at the ends in a shaky gesture as your eyes shifted from staring past him to staring at the fields surrounding you, but after a minute you dropped it. You were so tired of pretending that everything was okay. That you were okay. A deafening silence fell over the two of you, and it fell heavily on your shoulders.

You used to be good at talking to people; before the war. You used to be able to start a conversation over the most mundane objects and let it foster a wary friendship. You were exceptional at it. And then the war happened. Now you didn’t know how to talk to anyone. Every conversation was strained and dense; filled with silences that neither you nor those that you were conversing with knew how to handle.

You glanced over at Fred, flinching as your mind twisted the sight and forced you to see the deathly stillness you had come to know quite well in your nightmares. Closing your eyes, you turned your head away and took a drink for your mug. You were far too sober to be dealing with this right now.

Fred took a drag of the cigarette, inhaling deeply before blowing out a puff of smoke, watching it curl and flip in the cold sky. “Why won’t you look at me?” he asked quietly, staring down at the cigarette that lay between his fingers before looking up at you.

You stared out at the field, watching the fog lay over it like a loving blanket. Your coffee mug was resting comfortably in your hands, and you blew on it gently. “Because every time I do, I watch you die.”

You were never one to sugarcoat the truth, he knew that. Often you were even described as brutally honest. But it was no stretch to say that he had never expected you to say that. He hesitated in his reply, something you picked up on easily yet held your tongue about. “I didn’t die,” he replied, taking another drag. “No matter how much George wants to be one brother short of a twin, I can’t give him the satisfaction.” His lips curled up in a smile, and you knew that he was trying to diffuse the tense air around the two of you.

“But you almost did,” you said calmly, lifting the mug to your lips and taking a sip. It was scary sometimes, how unbothered you were about things like this. It was like you weren’t properly feeling, and maybe you weren’t. Or maybe you were compartmentalizing, shoving what you didn’t need into the depths of your mind.

“So did everyone else. We all took risks in the war, but we made it out,” he said with a shrug, turning his head to look out at the field as well.

You took time with your response, turning the words over in your mouth and feeding them to yourself in a mental debate. You knew that once you said them, you would be opening the talk into something more, something bigger. Maybe...maybe that would be a good thing. “Then why does it feel like we never left?” you asked in a soft voice, eyes now trained on the coffee in your hands.

He paused, cigarette frozen inches from his lips. You could tell he was mulling over his answer as well; wondering if he should let you in or push you back beyond his walls. Eventually, he smiled, an expression that conveyed no joy and was paired with a bitter laugh. “I wish I fucking knew.”

You accepted his answer, choosing not to pry or open up any further as the two of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. You listened to the birds chirp their wakeup call as the sun finally began to emerge from beyond the hills, and inwardly you knew that your time out here was limited now. Your friends were going to start waking up soon, and they would be concerned if they found you outside at this hour. Just as you were about to finish the rest of your coffee and leave, Fred spoke again.

“Why were you out here?” he asked, eyes turning to catch yours as you finally looked over at him. You saw a flash of his body in the Great Hall, pale skinned and eerily quiet with his family standing over him and quickly looked away again.

You debated lying to him. Telling him that you’d heard a noise and were unable to go back to sleep. But you were so tired of lying. You were tired of hiding flinches, of hiding the dark circles under your eyes, of hiding. Your fingers fidgeted with the bracelet you wore on your wrist, a reminder of your parents, of what you lost, and you sighed. “It’s hard for me to sleep, so I come out here instead. It’s . . peaceful. Quiet. It makes me feel safe.”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw him nod in understanding while taking a final drag from his cigarette and dropping it onto the porch before stomping it out. “It’s the nightmares, right? They keep you up and take you back to the war.”

You silently nodded your head, closing your eyes and pressing your hands up to your face as a sudden feeling of desperation welled up inside of you. “I haven’t slept in months,” you confessed softly. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting against the slew of emotions that were suddenly surfacing after being pushed down and held back for so long.

You could sense Fred hesitating, feel him cautiously stand up. You heard the soft creaking of the porch as he walked over to you, unsure of what to do and how to help. “Can I . . . can I hug you?” he asked gently, feet shuffling as he shifted his weight from side to side.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you nodded. “I just-” your voice broke and you cleared your throat. “I just want to know when I’m going to stop seeing everything. I can’t blink without seeing the school. Without seeing him. It’s like..,” you took another breath, your shoulders shaking and your eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s like I’m always going to be back there. Watching people die. Unable to save any of them.”

Fred wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours as the two of you faced the grassy hills that surrounded the Burrow. “Every time I close my eyes I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t fired that counter curse.”

Your hands dropped from your face slowly, reaching down to place a comforting hand on his arm to let him know that you were there for him as tears slipped silently down your face.

“I can see it, you know. When they look at me. I can see it in their eyes. They’re all thinking the same thing that I am.” His fists clench and he grits his teeth, pain evident on his face as his mind takes him back to the final battle. “If I had been a second slower...” he trailed off, eyes hardening.

You could smell the smoke on him like this. It clung to him like a cloud, sticking to his clothes and enveloping you in its scent. It was, surprisingly, calming. And you could see why he had turned to smoking as a coping mechanism.

Wordlessly you lifted one of his hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. “Thank you for not being a second slower,” you whispered, leaning your head back against his chest and savoring the feeling of being held.

You knew that in a few short minutes you would have to move; to go back up to your room and pretend that you had gotten a restful nights sleep and that you were actually okay. But for now you were content to be here, in this moment. You were content to live in this point in time for a few more seconds and pretend that you weren’t terribly broken inside. You could allow yourself this, one thing.

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iceeckos12 · 3 years

Text

and he sees dawn before the rest of the world

or: a fucked up little au of 200. intended to be unsettling so just be warned warnings for: unreality (i think that’s the appropriate term? please lmk if not), implied self harm, fucked up relationship dynamics; lmk if i should tag anything else

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Martin hissed, throwing an arm across his face, as though he could stop the barrage of sound just by covering his eyes. His alarm was unsympathetic to his whinging, continuing to scream its daily mourning dirge, grieving the end of another period of blessed rest. “Fine, fine! I’m getting up, christ…”

He reached clumsily for the phone on his bedside table, only for his fingers to scrabble uselessly around the ghost of its presence. He was momentarily so stymied by the absence that it took him longer than it should’ve to remember that he’d moved it to his desk, to prevent him from giving into the temptation to hit the snooze button just one more time.

Letting out another slew of curses, Martin shuffled onto his other side and reached for

A jaw-cracking yawn near split Martin’s face in two as he hunched over the gleaming tea kettle, steam beginning to pour from the spout. He shuffled his feet, eyes meandering sightlessly over the cow-shaped mug drying on the counter, the cluster of crumbs that he must’ve missed when cleaning up after dinner last night.

He hated mornings. Maybe it was the preemptive dread he felt at the thought of going to work; maybe it was because he hated having to be upright this early in the morning. Either way, he felt strangely disconnected from his morning routine, each motion carried out with habitual, distant efficiency as his thoughts raced along like a hamster on a wheel just below the surface.

It...was a bit silly for him to be worried about work, though. The stuff he was doing was interesting, and he had the loveliest coworkers a guy could ask for. They’d even offered to teach him a thing or two about artifact restoration once they learned the truth about his CV.

He drew himself up to his full height and rolled his shoulders back, clouded sigh mingling with the fog from the boiling water. Things were going well. Hell, he was actually going to get top surgery sometime in the next year or so, which was amazing considering his teenage self would’ve laughed at the very idea of being out.

There was no reason to dread going to work.

Martin carefully poured the water into the mug, letting the tea steep before adding a splash of milk and sugar. When he picked the mug up, the heat from the tea had bled into the ceramic, so warm as to be uncomfortable against the delicate skin of his palms. He didn’t let go, just kept on gripping the mug, like trying to contain the last gasp of a dying star.

Martin stared around his kitchen. The waterstains on the inside of the cow mug slowly evaporating into the still air; the crumbs that had sat there for who knows how long. The empty, blank face of his fridge.

Martin lifted the mug, and steam collected on his glasses as his breath wafted over the surface of the tea. He drew away, waiting for the lenses to clear, before leaning in for another sip.

His reflection stared back at him, a monochrome facsimile of his face rimmed in white smoke, and he recoiled, the mug slipping from

Working nine to five, what a way to make a living…

Martin stared out the window, his hand pillowed in the palm of his hand as Dolly Parton crooned in his ears. Split second by split second, he let his eyes catch on a point in the darkened surroundings, only letting his vision blur into incoherence when that fixed point whipped out of sight. It was a game he sometimes played when he got bored of reading or playing cards on his phone.

The old woman across from him let out a quiet grunt and shuffled, drawing his attention back inside the train. She was a gnarled old thing, bowed by the gravity of grief and time and life, though Martin couldn’t say for certain whether it was one well-lived.

Barely getting by, it’s all taking and no giving...

That was the thing about people watching: Martin was never quite sure if it was disrespectful to make assumptions about a person’s life based on a passing glimpse. He could never be sure if the person with the grumpy expression had a foul attitude, or if they were just a kind person on the tail-end of a truly awful day.

The old woman was knitting though, and Martin generally found it safe to assume that knitters were nice people.

For a moment he thought about taking out his headphones and striking up a conversation; the pattern looked devilishly complicated, and as a beginning knitter, he always appreciated tips. There was an unfinished set of fingerless green gloves in the back of his closet; it was easy for hands to get cold in the Archives, and the color suited

“Alright, Martin?”

Martin startled, his pen clattering to the floor. He looked up to find Sasha perched on the edge of his desk, grinning like the cat who’d just eaten the canary. Or, he thought she was. His eyes kept skittering from one corner of her face to the other, like a smooth stone skipping across a lake.

“Uh…” Frowning slightly, he let his gaze travel over the shelves of books, the humming lights, his cluttered workstation. He removed his glasses so he could rub at his aching eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Probably just the stress. “Yeah—yeah! Sorry, I’ve been distracted all morning.”

Martin got the impression of Sasha’s grin being tempered with genuine concern. “I’m sorry to hear that. Is everything okay?”

“I think so. Just...work, and my mum…” he gave an expansive you know sort of gesture at life in general. “Thank god the weekend’s coming. Anyway, is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come get drinks with Mel and Tim and I after work, but…” She cut him a meaningful glance, the bottomless holes where her eyes should be boring bright spotlights into the back of his skull. “We’d understand if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Is Georgie coming?”

Sasha shrugged. “Probably. Mel didn’t say so, but they’ve been all over each other since they started dating.”

Martin laughed. “True.” Tried to gauge how he was feeling, whether or not he was up to a night of socializing. You should go, a strangely posh little voice murmured in the back of his head, and he found himself saying, “Actually yeah, I would like to come. I could use a night out.”

Sasha clapped him on the shoulder, and the impact rattled through him like a gong being struck. The echoes of it vibrated all the way down to his toes. “Excellent.”

Martin hesitated, and then, not entirely sure of what he was asking, “What about J

“Thanks for waiting with us,” Georgie said, smiling beatifically up at him. Passed out on her shoulder, Melanie let out a drunken snuffle and curled over, like she was thinking of climbing through the spaces of Georgie’s ribcage and sleeping in her chest cavity forever.

“Not a problem,” Martin replied, scratching the back of his neck.

To be honest, waiting with her was as much for his benefit as theirs. At first, he’d thought it was just stress; now, he was very sure that something was wrong. It wasn’t anything specific, or even bad; more like there was a sepia camera filter tinting the world dusty and nostalgic.

After his third drink, he’d looked into Tim’s laughing face and thought he might burst into tears. And he still didn’t know what Sasha was supposed to look like.

But he didn’t want to worry her, so he just bit his lip and rocked back and forth on his heels, even though the motion made his head spin that much worse.

(Maybe he needed to take a couple of days off. Have a lie-in. But that would—that would delay his work. The Institute’s work. Delays were bad; he felt strongly enough about that to carve it directly into his skin so that he’d never forget. He could roll down his sleeve and take a peek at it whenever his motivation slipped, like checking a watch for the time.)

For lack of anything else to say, he nodded toward Melanie. “She’s really out, huh?”

“She’s always been a lightweight.” Her tone was wry, but her eyes were soft and fond as she brushed Melanie’s bangs back from her face. “Never gets hungover though, the lucky bastard.”

“The nerve!” Martin said, affecting offense, which sent them right into another giggling fit.

Once he got his breath back, Martin mentioned offhand, “You know, considering how similar they are, I’m surprised that her and J̷́̆̂̋͆̊̎́͂̑͘̚͠��̧̱̜͕͕̤͉̣̺̺̝͖̠̹̜͙̣͉̩̺̤̟͉͓̞̹̗̌͊ͅo̶̧̨͕̖͔̬̖̝̪͚̻̟̠̜̣̰̅n̶̥̉́̎͑̀͂͆̿̾͛̾̔̐͌́̅̂͂̒̆̐́͊̄̾̍̅̅͝

“Stop it!” Martin screamed, grabbing the mug from the counter and throwing it across the room. It shattered against the wall, scattering shards of ceramic across the floor. “I know

“What you’re doing,” Martin gripped the bathroom counter, ignoring the persistent ringing of his alarm, staring deeply into his reflection, “Stop it, stop it, nononon̴̡̡͚̮̠͙̻͔͎͈̜̓̈́̈́͜͜ͅǫ̸̯̠̱̖̲͙͍͎͒̇̑͒ṅ̶̨̩̳̩̝̹̳͎͈̬̦͆́̈́́͐̏̈́̕͝͝o̸̡̻̱̗̥̮̙̳̞͗̄͋̈́̀͝n̸̢̛̟͙̘̱̩͕̦̫̤̮͆͑̊͋́̂̽͜o̶̘̱̗̘̘͑̿͜ņ̶̥̞̠͕͓̠͔͚̮͈̬͕̀͗̄̓͑͑͛̕ͅő̸̮̫̓͌̾̌͋́̂̏̒̃̃̄̚n̵̗̫͕̺̻͔̭͖̉͒͗̀̈́̃̅o̴͓͉͉͗͋̎̕—”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m sorry, it’s okay—”

“No!” Martin shrieked, shoving Jon’s hands away, skittering backward across the broken and cracked stones of the Panopticon. Through the arched windows, the sky was a poisonous green and black, and multitudes of eyes orbited the room, watched his every movement with sickening fascination. “Just—stop.”

Luminous gaze weary and resigned, Jon did as he was bid, dropping back onto his heels.

Rubbing sweat and grime and tears from his face, breathing harshly through his mouth, Martin took a moment to remember where he was, why he was here. It always took a moment for everything to come back.

As though unable to keep silent any longer, Jon asked, “So what was it this time?”

“Don’t,” Martin hissed, dragging his hands through his greasy hair.

Though his expression went mulishly annoyed, Jon raised his hands placatingly, a silent, alright, you win. It was a familiar gesture, one that he’d done so many times while they were living in Scotland, while they were traveling the devastated landscape of the apocalypse. It made Martin ache for when things were simpler, when his heart didn’t just feel like one big bruise.

He gently set the thought aside, and turned a more assessing eye on the Panopticon. Normally the changes were insignificant, but something thick and red and black had started to coil around the windows, weaving in and out of the floor, cracking the stonework. Martin traced the strange things with his eyes, frowning—

“Christ, Jon,” he whispered in horrified realization. “Are...are those corpse roots?”

Jon bobbed his head. “They’ve long since overtaken the rest of London. It’s just us, now.”

Martin sucked in a long, frustrated breath through his teeth. There was no point trying to talk any sense into Jon, not after so long, and force would only result in immediately getting kicked back into that horrible dream world.

“And the others?”

Jon shrugged, tracing the cracks in the earth with his fingers. “Still alive, and living happily in the dream I made for them.” He didn’t say, unlike you, but the implication was so loud he might as well have screamed it.

“Shut up,” Martin muttered, pushing to his feet and limping to one of the windows.

Corpse roots, as far as the eye could see. They covered the city of London in a blanket of tangled black, so thick that it was impossible to see the buildings beneath.

“Was it worth it?” he asked, sagging against the side of the window, too tired to be angry.

When the silence persisted a second too long, Martin turned around to find Jon with his head tilted back, examining the corpse roots consuming what had once been the Beholding’s seat of power, expression distant and thoughtful. The eyes, ever-watching, never understanding, drifted closer, greedily drinking in the sight.

When Martin realized that Jon wasn’t planning on answering, he let out another sigh, ruffled his bangs away from his face, and said, “You’re never there.”

Jon’s gaze snapped to him with a laser-edged focus. “Sorry?”

“If you’re going to trap me in a dream,” Martin said, each syllable clipped and precise, “You could at least be there.”

Like it always did, Jon’s face crumpled, and he looked away. “...I don’t deserve it.”

“Oh, we’re well past that and you know it!” Martin shrieked, striking his fist against the stone. “You made your fucking decision to damn the world, to hell with whatever we thought, the least you could do is stop hiding behind your pointless guilt and act like this is what you actually want!”

It would’ve been better, if Jon had simply become drunk with power and was no longer listening to reason. The fact that he’d made this same decision every single day with clear, unclouded eyes and sound judgement—as Jon the human, rather than Jon the lynchpin of the apocalypse, pupil of the Eye—made Martin want to scream.

“I do want it!” Jon snapped back, then quieter, “I do.” He looked up at the corpse roots again, eyes going misty. “I just—I should witness every second of misery and pain that I’m causing. I don’t deserve to just...forget.”

Wind snapped and howled around them like a creature mad with rage, and Martin idly wondered what would happen to this world once Jon died. If it would all go back to the way it had been before, or if the shell of the apocalypse would remain until the end of time, a corpse husk of a reality warped beyond repair.

“You shouldn’t have to experience this alongside me though,” Jon continued, rallying. “So I would really appreciate it if you’d stop breaking your dreams.”

“Tough,” Martin snapped back, folding his arms obstinately over his chest.

“You could be happy!” Jon reiterated, stabbing his index finger into the palm of his hand. “You could just...live your life! Forget! There’s no point in being here.”

“It’s a deal, remember? Where you go, I go. Fuck you very much, but I don’t break my promises.”

Jon stared at him for one beat, then another—and then promptly burst out laughing, his whole body shaking with the force of it. Martin stared at him, utterly bewildered, as the laughing slowly began to dissolve into desperate, heaving sobs, as he began rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around himself in a mockery of comfort.

“I miss you,” Jon gasped out, half-crazed. “So much. I miss you every day even though you’re right in front of me. But I can’t go to you, because I don’t deserve to, not when I’m the one who trapped you here. I’m everything that’s wrong with the world. I always have been.”

“Jon,” Martin sighed, low and tired.

Jon buried his face into his knees. “No, you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t forgive me just because you pity me, that’s not what I—I don’t—”

“Who said anything about forgiveness?” Martin shook his head. “Fine. You’re an asshole, and I hate you. But it’s like I said.” He gestured toward the Panopticon, the roots, the poisonous sky. “When has deserving ever mattered?”

Jon lifted his face from his knees, though his gaze stayed rooted to the floor. “...I suppose.”

“Right,” Martin agreed. “I’ve accepted that you’re not going to change your mind, but...at the very least, I don’t want to die alone. So can you please just…”

There was a long, weighted pause.

They’d had arguments like this what felt like hundreds of times before. Martin begging for Jon to change his mind, Jon refusing with that same resigned, determined expression on his face, before sending Martin back into his dreams.

Maybe it was because Martin wasn’t asking him to change his mind this time. Maybe it was because they were so close to the end of all things, and soon they’d be the last two people on earth. Maybe it was because Jon was tired, had been for so, so long, and he had won anyway, so there was no point in fighting any longer.

“Alright,” Jon whispered.

…

...

Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!

“Ugh, five more minutes,” Martin hissed, throwing an arm across his face.

Somewhere in the far distance, the toilet flushed. A moment later, a pair of feet padded lightly into the room, hesitated at the edge of the bed, and then made their way over to the desk. The alarm abruptly went silent.

Martin uncovered his eyes and grinned up at Jon as he tentatively slid back between the covers, every movement careful and deliberate, like he was reading stage directions from a script.

“Look at Mr. Workaholic, having a lie-in,” Martin teased, pulling Jon into his arms and inhaling the scent of his coconut shampoo. “Must be the end of the world, or something.”

Jon stiffened for just a moment, before turning around and burying his face into Martin’s chest. “Or something.”

#iceeckos12 writes #my writing #tma #jonmartin but make it especially tragedy flavored

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