#and talking for like a minute or two before Jon tries to leave bc This Fuckin Sucks talking to Tim who doesnt remember him

[goldenhawk-k]

👁👁

your tim survives the unknowing headcanons, hand em over 🖐🖐

omg i'm so glad you asked teehee

trigger warning for tim typical suicidal ideation

ok, before we start, to be clear, this is not a list of hcs where tim lived bc he became an avatar. if you want those ur gonna have to WAIT for my end!tim au. this is an au where he survived the unknowing as just a normal guy by pure miracle, ok? ok. awesome.

Tim was in a coma for about a week, and then was quickly put into a medically induced coma for another six because his body was so deeply fucked up. In total, he was out for about seven weeks.

Jon threw himself over Tim during The Unknowing in hopes of saving him. Ultimately, it saved his life (just barely, though. like, if the first responders arrived five minutes later, they wouldn't have been able to save him).

However, due to their positioning, Jon was only able to cover Tim's torso and head.

His legs got pretty much destroyed by the debris from the explosion.

After he wakes up, he's an ambulatory wheelchair user. When not in his wheelchair, he uses elbow crutches.

Anyways. back to when he first wakes up

When he first wakes up from his coma, he's confused. Obviously he's confused, he was asleep for seven weeks.

Once he realizes what happens, he's so fucking angry because he thought he finally got out of everything, he thought he was dead, his brother had been avenged, so what the fuck else is he here for?

He's incredibly suicidal when he first wakes up. It only worsens when the nurse tells him his mom visited him exactly once when he was asleep, within the first two weeks, and hasn't been back since.

(He tries to call her. That was the most contact they've had since Danny went missing, and he missed it.)

(She doesn't answer.)

(...the worst part is that Tim wasn't even expecting her to.)

He just kinda. Assumes that Jon's dead, but when Basira visits in the week he's being kept in the hospital, she tells him that Jon's 'technically' alive

"What do you mean technically" "...the nurses told me not to stress you out."

Tim DEMANDS to go visit Jon.

The nurses originally said no, but Tim started ripping out his IV, and they conceded.

He gets wheeled into the room they're keeping Jon in and every bit of anger towards him just vanishes.

He looks so small and fragile, and it reminds Tim of the friend he had in research.

He misses Jon so much.

Now this is the point where it could split into my "Tim is in Martin's place in s4 - Tim becomes a lonely avatar" au but this is not the post for that but know that is something that is in my head.

Tim takes to sitting by Jon's bedside at least three times a week, but it's usually more as he can't even get into the archive for the first month he's awake.

The reason he can't is that he's still going through physical therapy to work his elbow crutches. And you KNOW the magnus institute isn't fully accessible so he literally can't get down those stairs to the archive.

So. he sits with Jon most the time.

He has a civil relationship with melanie. she's going through her own slaughter shit. Basira and him get along well enough. But the main person he talks to is Jon's nearly lifeless body.

Jon hears ever bitch and complaint of Tim's life from the time he woke up.

If Tim cried in Jon's room, he'll never tell. Not like Jon would know either.

Things all go to hell after the flesh attacks the archive, which was one of the few days he's actually in the archives with his elbow crutches. he's nearly killed when basira leaves him

(i like basira btw but you know she'd leave people behind if it were to save either her or daisy. thats like. one of her character traits)

He sits by Jon more

And Tim never expects Jon to wake up, so when he comes in one day and Jon's sitting up, breathing, he turns around and leaves the hospital.

He comes back two days later and they talk.

And that's all my thoughts really. Bonus hc is that Tim has a sportier design of wheelchair with no handlebars or armrests and it's purple bc he needed something to lift him up.

Double bonus hc: tim has a few stickers on his crutches. he never buys them, but if he finds or just gets a sticker, that's where he puts them bc it makes him a little happier

[driflew]

I love your My Witness fic!!!! I got a question, since Tim is still alive, is it Martin who bombed and died in the Unknowing? And will the others know or remember that that was their Jon?

thank you so much!! okay, you've got two questions here, so ill answer em both. this sis gonna be long, oops, i just have a lot of thoughts about it. also its very nearly 2am so this might be somewhat unorganized

for the first question of "is Martin dead?" nope! something i think is fun about my witness is that its technically a fixit fic, but bc of where in the timeline i chose to write, it does not fucking feel like it

in my personal interpretation of archivist Sasha, i dont think she'd end up paranoid the same way Jon does, and i dont feel that if she did, she'd turn against Tim. i mean, the heart of jon's paranoia was that he couldn't understand why Tim was there, but Sasha knows. plus, she's closer to Tim than Jon was. i don't know i can rule out her being suspicious of Jon and Martin, esp when Jon... isn't Jon, and ive often read jon's paranoia as being at least partially influenced by notSasha's presence there... but.

all this to say i dont think their friendships would completely fall apart until Martin feels the need to blow himself to smithereens.

also, from a writing standpoint? killing Martin is less interesting when the story centers on Jon and his friends forgetting him. Martin can do a lot more emotional damage by sticking around!! :D

so the second question, "Will they remember Jon?" ...yes, actually but not without some... minor misunderstands. first, Jon accidentally becomes a season 4 antagonist.

i think Jon would decide to try and take out the institute/archives to prevent another ritual and hopefully weaken Elias. which makes sense to him, but to the archival staff, some strange, suspicious, offputting man keeps attacking what's essentially the eye base protecting them. uh. whoops!

eventually Melanie, who remembers him, would end up seeing him, and they'd put two and two together abt this fucking Guy being their missing friend

as for remembering him, that sort of goes into how jon's avatar-status works. jon's kinda like Martin in that he's accidentally got his fingers in too many pies--the eye, the stranger, and the lonely, and it's erasing him further and further from existence.

i wrote Jon loosely following a few rules (which id tighten if i did this again, but i wrote most of this oneshot outside where i had to move every few minutes bc mosquitos kept getting me. my legs were fuckin covered in blood by the end bro), which went sort of like this.

Jon's current inability to be remembered/recognized is, though unintentional, his own doing. the notThem replaced him in every old memory and paper, but he could have talked to Tim and Martin, and they'd have been able to remember his face when he walked away. (whether or not they'd BELIEVE him, though, is... another question)

but Jon was scared! not for nothing of course, and not unreasonably, but he was. he was scared they'd suddenly decided they disliked him, and then later realized they hadn't even recognized him, at which point he became afraid they'd either not recognize him or not believe he was who he said he was. thus, Jon, already VERY deeply touched by the Stranger, accidentally starts manifesting Strangely.

of course, that's sort of a self-replicating loop. every day that Alina doesn't recognize him, he gets worse. and that fear of what would happen if he ever went to his friends and was officially rejected... he knows it will happen, but the longer he prolongs it, the longer he can at least imagine a scenario where they recognize him, or believe him, or remember him when he leaves.

well, until the hospital, of course!

i think, tho, he can be pulled back eventually. this mix of the Stranger and the Lonely based entirely around being Unknown, and his friends are a bunch of fuckin Eye ppl. Knowing is their thing. rn they unknowing nerfs them, but they ARE its natural counter. if Jon has an anchor--or several--he can heal, and they can pull him back to shore. sort of like the canon Martin and the Lonely in 159? they need to get thru to Jon, tho, and bridge the gap to him first. show him he doesnt have to be afraid they'll forget him again, that sorta thing

(it won't totally go away, of course--i imagine strangers will have a harder time remembering his name, or he'll be a little harder to pin details down in his friends' memories. and his legal documents are still, uh, gone, like, hes still legally nonexistent. but. he can be pulled back into the land of the living, as it were)

tl;dr: no Martin didnt die, yes they'll bring Jon back

[hintofelation99]

Since Thanksgiving is coming up soon how about the fam gets force invited to dinner by some random relatives who they don't talk to and it ends up a battle of the the two families trying to show each other up and it ends in a fire and tears.

It’s been a good minute since I got this (I’ve been rlly busy with moving and preparing for the holidays so I’ve mostly doing text posts bc those are super quick) but I do adore this. As someone who’s from a loud, chaotic, and at times even shameless, southern (US) family I’ve seen some pretty wild thanksgivings. From my sisters hair catching on fire to my aunt yelling ‘fuck’ as she accidentally throws a ketchup bottle across the room, it can be a lot. And I’d imagine that’d only be amplified for the bats.

They’d probably invite over the full family. Like obviously Bruce and Alfred would be there. And the five Robins (I will always count Duke as a robin even if canon doesn’t, and yes Ik leading the ‘we are robin’ movement is different but shush he’s earned it). And the batgirls. Of course Kate will come and she’ll bring Reneé. No matter what terms Bruce and Selina are on, Selina always goes to support her kids (she will fight anyone who says they aren’t hers). And since Reneé and Selina come the other partners are coming. In my mind this means Wally, Roy, and Kon. Kon is dropped of by Clark, who relents to Jon’s constant begging and ends up staying for an hour with his sons. Bart runs over a few times, each time Barry is close behind making him leave. Cassie and Cissie drop by for a bit, and are later picked up by Diana, Oliver, and Dinah. Oliver and Dinah leave with Cissie after chatting for a bit. Diana and Cassie end up staying (because Jason has surprisingly good puppy dog eyes). And Donna ends up coming. Dick decides to invite his new friend Lucas (aka Midnighter) who of course brings Andrew (aka Apollo). They also invite Zatanna who brings Constantine (he, Jason, and Roy get along like fire and gasoline). Harley and Ivy show up, both invited by one of the Robins, which one is still up for debate. And honestly the guests keep coming. All in civvies and all in high spirits. It’s chaotic but somehow manageable. That is until Bruce’s extended family arrives. That’s when suddenly all of the ‘I am a hero who regularly saves the world’ turns into ‘oh fuck gotta be normal’.

The first ‘error’ comes when Constantine tries to talk about his love life with Bruce’s usually quiet great, great aunt Hilda. Because apparently Hilda has interesting responses to things like “he was a real shark in the sheets” and “you can only imagine the hate sex you have after the demon you sent to hell gets out”. That response being “You think that’s intense? Have you ever bought an entire cruise ship and 200 pounds of cake for your book club?” (Constantine later joins that book club). That night Bruce learns that sweet aunt Hilda has rather unique interests.

The second ‘error’ is leaving Steph and Tim in charge of the younger cousins. Because they end up starting a cult. On accident of course.

‘Error’ number 3 is letting Lucas and Clark speak to great uncle Joey who is apparently homophobic. That ends in Lucas locking Joey in a closet. According to Lucas it’s symbolic, Andrew says it’s childish but still supports his partner.

‘Error’ 4 is letting Bart speak to the oldest family member, Aunt Edna. She ends up adoring Bart and giving him tons of cookies, this leads to a speedster on a sugar high. Kon and Cassie spend most of their day trying to keep Barts identity a secret, they ask Tim for help but he’s busy leading his new followers. Edna quickly realizes that Bart is a speedster but she doesn’t care/say anything, she finds him adorable.

‘Error’ 5 is leaving Jason and Diana unsupervised. They create an hour long PowerPoint on the Odyssey. A PowerPoint that they present before dinner.

But the biggest error is not locking up Damian’s sword. The sword that he and Jon use to play a blood pressure raising game of sword tag with and that they use to cut everything. At one point they even use it to cut butter. Bruce is not amused. Jon is very amused.

[radiantmists]

ok i love all the increasing-hair-length headcanons for jon but imagine if he had somewhat long hair by the end of s3 and upon waking up from the coma finds that the hospital shaved it bc it was all burned in the explosion, and it didn’t grow back the whole time bc he was dead

in the first couple days basira sometimes catches him tilting his head with an odd look on his face and she thinks it’s some sort of beholding thing but when she finally asks he’s just like ‘my head feels so light without hair’

melanie regularly snaps at him for scratching at it while the stubble is growing out. she keeps scolding him after the bullet comes out, but it starts to gain a trace of fondness.

when daisy comes out of the coffin (a month after jon wakes up), her hair’s gotten ridiculously long and she can’t stand the weight of it or the feeling of it brushing against her skin, and she doesn’t want a pixie or something hard to maintain, so she gets a razor and buzzes it. jon sees it and stutters for a full minute trying to decide whether she’s more likely to kill him if he compliments it or if he doesn’t. then he’s completely derailed when she smiles and says ‘we match’

jon hasn’t been eating well, but daisy’s on a strict schedule to get her strength back and drags him into following it too, so his hair actually starts growing a bit better

on the trip up to ny-alesund, jon’s ears get cold way earlier than he’s used to, and they nearly miss the boat while he’s digging through his bag for his hat

the cap is hand-knit from soft maroon wool. jon had found it in a box with his cold-weather clothes and not remembered where he’d gotten it until he’d run a finger over the neat saxon braid and Known that Martin had tripled the cost limit of the office secret santa to buy the wool, justifying it by the fact that he wouldn’t use all the wool for the hat.

The rest of the wool, jon Knows, sits in Martin’s empty flat in the form of a woman’s sweater, never worn. 

jon keeps wearing the hat around the office afterward. when asked, he mutters something about drafts and basements. daisy finally makes him stop in july when a heat wave hits. 

after hilltop road, he thinks about asking daisy if they can match again. the tickle of hair on the back of his neck feels far too much like cobwebs and crawling legs. 

but: “i miss braiding,” daisy says one day, just before jon reads a statement. 

“my hair’s not long enough,” jon points out, which is not a no.

when he comes out of the statement-fugue, there are dozens of inch-long braids weighing against his skull. 

he leaves them in, and an old lady in the cafe across from the institute smiles at him when she sees them. to his eyes, there is fog curling around her ankles. he calls up the memory of callused fingers sliding through his hair while he reads, and tugs one short braid every time his feet want to get up and approach her.

his hair is the right length to easily hold shape by the time he finds out how to quit the institute. he runs his hand through it so much that when he bursts into martin’s office, it’s sticking up in about ten different directions. when he reacts to the comment on his appearance by talking about his eating habits, martin doesn’t correct him-- it’s not entirely wrong, after all.

jon pulls the cap back out as soon as september arrives, even though his hair mostly covers his ears now. he wears it into the lonely.

he keeps having to brush his bangs out of his eyes on the drive up to the safehouse. martin buys him a 50 pence pack of multicolored hairclips at a convenience store an hour outside of london, half expecting jon to turn up his nose. 

he’s not quite prepared for the fond smile Jon gives him, or for him to open the package and hand the brightest two clips back, tilting his head shyly in invitation

the first time martin sees a highland cow, he gasps so loudly and abruptly that jon pulls over to ask him if he’s alright. instead they get out to meet the cow, a wonderful shaggy thing with fur dripping into its eyes that tries to eat martin’s sleeve when he reaches out to pet it

‘maybe we should lend him a hairclip,’ jon jokes hesitantly. it’s not especially funny but martin gives him a chuckle, quiet but fond, and jon starts to believe that things might just be alright after all.

[voiceless-terror]

would you consider writing me some precanon jongeorgie angst. bc i imagine they probably bonded over their interest in the supernatural but never. you know. actually talked about their personal experiences/trauma. just give me a little of both of them handling that trauma very badly while never admitting their closest brush with the supernatural. or something. idk.

Hello anon! I haven’t written Jon/Georgie yet, but this prompt was too good to pass up. Hope you like!

Being with Georgie was easy. It shouldn’t have been, not for him.

But it was.

She carried herself with the utmost surety: of her opinions, of her feelings, of her place in the world. It wasn’t arrogance, more like confidence and something else Jon couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was a blankness in her eyes sometimes. Not an absence of feeling but an absence of...understanding, maybe. Of empathy. Georgie saw the world in black and white; she knew exactly what was right and what was wrong. She was blunt. She bulldozed over others in conversations, pointed out flaws that polite society knew to overlook and not name. Jon admired it, as much as it made him cringe.

But it was complemented by her fierce capacity for loving, her clever, teasing words, the way her fingers ran through his hair when he was stressed. That black and white view could quiet his mind like no other- ‘yes, Jon’, ‘no, Jon.’  She listened to his incessant rambling, nodding in the right places and adding her own commentary. She filled out the crosswords in the morning, her brow furrowed in concentration, colorful nails tapping at the table. She never wanted help, stubborn to a fault. Her dark skin ethereal in the morning light, the way her voice was low and croaky before her coffee. The ease with which she said ‘I love you.’ 

He remembered the day she first approached him, all ripped-tights and smudged, smoky eyeshadow. Just leaned against the wall on that chilly fall night and snatched the cigarette right from his hand, an eyebrow flicked upward as she took a drag. He couldn’t get a word out, just silently took her phone when she offered it and typed in a number with shaking hands. A year later and she was still that same girl, though he’d seen her stash of manga and her weird cat memorabilia. She was whole, real. It was comfortable.

“I’m not really sure if I should go.” They’re curled up on the couch, Jon leaning into the warm bulk of her. “All of the others are going, though.”

“It’s not like you’re close, right?” Jon’s petting the Admiral, the new addition to the household fitting in seamlessly. “I’m sure she won’t take it as an insult. You can always say you’re busy. Who was it, again? Her father?”

“Yeah.” Georgie’s shifting against him, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. It’s odd- she’s not usually so awkward about these things. If there’s something she doesn’t want to talk about, she shuts it down right away. This seems...different. “And no, not close. But everyone else is going- they want to show their support, I guess. It would be awkward if I didn’t.”

Perhaps Georgie didn’t like funerals. You’re not supposed to, of course. Maybe it was a phobia, a perfectly valid one. Plenty of people don’t like to see the reminder of death laid out before them. Jon’s been to a few in his lifetime- for his Gran’s friend, for a distant cousin.

For his parents.

He doesn’t remember his father’s, he might not have even gone. He was only two at the time. He distantly remembers his mother’s; it wasn’t well attended, he sat in the front row with his Gran. He doesn’t even remember crying, if he even realized the thing in the box was his mother, dead and gone.

Needless to say, he understands Georgie’s sentiments. “You don’t have to go, not if...not if you don’t like it. Plenty of people are uncomfortable with death-” This was the wrong thing to say, for Georgie tensed instantly, leaning away from him.

“That’s not it at all,” she says, snatching her legs out from where Jon’s leaning comfortable against them. “It’s- it’s the performance of it all. All those people standing around a body, sniffling and moaning-”

Jon tried for levity, bristling at her tone. “People grieve, they need closure-”

Georgie snorted, this time shoving him away on the couch, the Admiral jumping from Jon’s lap at the movement. Her words became impassioned, as if Jon needed to know, needed to understand. “Cremate them, then! Say a few words, scatter the ashes, whatever. But having the body on display like that?” She gets up, starts to pace. Jon’s never seen her like this. “Paint the corpse, dress it up, pretend it’s a person still but it’s not, and everyone’s just standing there around it, praying over it and watching it like it’s not just rotting meat you put lipstick on-”

“Georgie!”

“I can’t stand it.” She stops in front of him, chest heaving and eyes aflame. “What’s so monumental about it? We live, we die- and her father was old, it was bound to happen sometime. No need to make such a to-do. It’s- it’s just disgusting, is what it is.” She didn’t continue, and an awkward silence permeated the room. 

Georgie got worked up about things on occasion. But the wild look in her eye, the total sense of incomprehension was...disconcerting. He agreed with her on certain points, of course, but the vehemence behind them- something wasn’t right. But it didn’t feel right to pry, either, and Georgie surely wouldn’t appreciate it.

“You could just say you’re busy, you don’t have to go,” he tries tentatively. She seems to deflate where she stands, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable. So he stands up, taking her hand in his. She lets him, but doesn’t meet his eyes. “But if you do, I can come with you. If you’d like.”

They stand in the very back row of the church after awkwardly greeting her grieving coworker. Georgie’s nails dig painfully into his arm, but he says nothing. They leave after ten minutes and stop at an Indian buffet on the way home. He silently watches her dig into a curry, his own untouched.

___________

When she first met Jon, she thought he was utterly out of her league.

It was her first semester back at school, she was an absolute fucking mess- drinking at all hours, barely present in her classes. She was out at the bar with a few new friends, most of whom she’d already forgotten the names of, and saw him standing there under a single flickering lamp, a cigarette dangling from long, slender fingers, raven hair back in a messy bun. Not many people could pull that off but he looked almost effortlessly cool (a thing she’d later find laughable for ever thinking) in his dingy leather jacket, his eyes far away and shadowed. She wondered what made him lose sleep. He had an odd, crooked little smile on his face and she was filled with liquid courage. The look he gave her when she took that cigarette out of his hand made her knees weak, and he took the proffered phone like he was only a little impressed. She sent a text to his phone and left, so embarrassed she went straight home.

He never did text her. To be fair, she never expected him to.

But she found him not two days later, hunched over a table in the campus library. She did a double take- surely this couldn’t be him, her impossibly handsome, silent figure who she surely dreamed up. But there was no mistaking that hair, those eyes. He was smaller, somehow diminished in his baggy jumper and wire-rimmed glasses, tapping a pencil against his textbook in irritation. Before she knew it she found herself picking up her phone, sending a text to the number with no name. And sure enough, his phone buzzed.

They went out on their first date a day later.

Jon was a ball of nerves, awkward and not at all like the man she thought she met that night. Somehow, the real Jon was better. She liked the way he blushed and stammered, the way a touch of her hand left him flustered and unable to speak. The way he could talk for hours about nothing at all, making even the most dull of subjects seem interesting with that voice of his- a voice surely meant for radio or T.V., something Jon himself endlessly scoffed at whenever she brought it up. They would sit in front of the telly for hours, marathoning ridiculous ghost hunting shows and pointing out the obvious fakes. Jon had a weakness for ghost stories, just like she did. “Most of them are absolute drivel, of course,” he said.

Most of them. 

They found comfort in each other, their small island of two, had no need for other company. Georgie had never been able to relate to someone so well, not since Alex, and Jon was never fond of crowds. Three months in he tried to break up with her, saying he could never give her what ‘she needed’ but she stopped that in its tracks- Georgie would be the one who decided what she did and didn’t need, thank you very much. She liked the way he leaned into her on movie nights, like her touch was the only thing that mattered. The sincerity in his eyes whenever he complimented her in that earnest, awkward way of his. He challenged her when he thought she was wrong, sometimes their fights lasted days. But they always came back to one another, each knowing they had no one else who understood them. Was it healthy? Georgie couldn’t answer that, she didn’t know herself. Jon probably didn’t either. But she loved him, in her way. 

That night they have a few glasses of wine, and Jon’s regaling her with some ridiculous story from his youth- apparently he was somewhat of a delinquent, wandering about at all hours. She laughs in delight, imagining a small, serious Jon climbing fences and evading the law. But suddenly Jon stops, his eyes going wide and his face growing ashen as he stares unblinking at the table.

It’s a spider- a tiny thing, really. Georgie’s been seeing a lot of them lately, and she really should be better about dusting the place. But Jon- Jon looks absolutely terrified, like the thing’s bound to leap out and kill him. She opens her mouth to tease, an instinctive reaction, but is instead startled by the loud smack of a hand against the table. Jon had smashed it certainly, but he lifts his hand and stares at it in wide-eyed horror, as if whatever he sees is nine times worse than the original thing.

“Jon-”

The chair hits the ground as he stumbles to her bathroom with heavy, labored breathing. She gets up slowly, approaching as quietly as possible to find him hyperventilating against the sink, the faucet on full blast as he washes his hand- scratches it, really. He’s mumbling frantically under his breath.

“...so many legs, get off, get off-”

She makes her presence known as not to startle him, approaching from the side and gently wrapping a hand around his arm once she sees him drawing blood. He starts anyway, his movements jerky and frenzied as he rips his arm away like her touch burns.

“It’s just a spider Jon,” she says softly, lifting her hands to show she means no harm. “It’s okay, you got it, it’s dead now-”

“But what if it isn’t!” He spits, slamming his hands on the marble rim of the sink and leaving bloody prints in his wake. He’s breathing so fast she thinks he might pass out. “What if it isn’t?”

She has no answer to that.

It takes about two hours, a hot shower and a stiff drink for him to calm down. They lay on the couch, watching something stupid, mind-numbing. She runs her fingers through his hair. He always liked that. She doesn’t say a word, he’s exhausted, and she knows from experience that pushing him will just lead to another fit like before. The next day, he brings her Hungarian by way of apology. They eat in a more comfortable silence, Jon gradually warming up as the evening goes on. Still, she doesn’t ask.

She spends the weekend cleaning her flat, standing on a chair and vacuuming at the cobwebs.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440474

[thompsborn]

do you have any spare ironhusbands or sambucky headcanons?

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY

oh my god okay i’ve been so fucking wrapped up in both ironhusbands and sambucky and absolutely nothing else for WEEKS because of tfatws (obviously if you have seen my endless spam of reblogs but can you BLAME ME) and the portal closed has ironhusbands so i’ve been just. oh my god i am happily drowning in this and them and i do not need nor want air. ok.

also these are all hc’s based just in canon not au, and lol warning this got so long help me, though my brain is so scrambled from tfatws finale that all sambucky thoughts are scrambled and jumbled so i wasn't able to coordinate them as well as ironhusbands so the ironhusbands section is definitely longer pfighf i'm so sorry i'm like this

ironhusbands:

when they met at mit tony didnt know shit. like. like nothing. he didnt know a single god damn thing about anything. like he was a genius he could solve any equation given to him and baffled professors when he was handed like two supposedly impossible equations to this fuckin fourteen year old and he just looked at them with like a mcdonalds burger or some shit hanging out of his mouth and just answered them no problem, but he was still such a hopeless idiot, and rhodey, also a genius attending as a sixteen year old, had to teach him the basics of life, like. making toast. tony how do NOT know how to make toast. its TOAST. you put it in the TOASTER. have you NEVER SEEN A—OH MY GOD HOW DID YOU FUCKING CATCH IT ON FIRE—

he does not perfect the clearly impossible task of making toast until he is 17 and rhodey buys him a cake to celebrate the momentous occasion even though tony went though 528 toasters

you are gold by the national parks. thats it. thats all i have to say. listen to the song and look up the lyrics. you’ll get it.

and also paper planes by jon bellion but specifically for after rhodey tells tony he’s gonna join the air force and tony is worried but doesnt know how to show it and they have like a chill night in and all tony can think about is how stupid he is and how he’s such a coward because he cant get himself to tell rhodey that hi!! i love u!! and im scared to lose u and that you’ll get hurt and maybe die or smth!!

when rhodey finds out about how tony was raised (going with mcu, where tony wasnt physically abused but more emotionally neglected and ignored by howard and always talked down to and compared to others and wasnt treated like he was worthy and never was told he was loved and everything like that) he gets PISSED. like he is MONUMENTALLY angry. and it takes YEARS for him to find out about this too. and it actually puts a bit of a strain on their friendship for awhile when they meet too

like rhodey knows about the starks obviously and he assumes tony is going to be this obnoxious arrogant rich boy asshole and is so not looking forward to being roommates but he was raised to have an open mind and give everyone a chance, but tony was raised to be wary of everyone and keep his walls up and his emotions in shackles because whatever he shows can be used against him, so they clash, you know? they dont fight or anything but theres tension bc it isnt right and they dont get each other.

rhodey tries to be nice and tony doesnt understand nice because his only example of nice is jarvis and his mom and even then his mom and jarvis are always off with his dad so he barely sees them so its still rare for him to experience the nice of them so he doesnt know how to be around someone nice all the time, and so he gets defensive and thinks about how howard drilled it into him to be wary and he thinks maybe rhodey isnt ACTUALLY nice but someone PRETENDING to be

and rhodey starts to feel justified in assuming the worst about tony stark because tony is all cold and distant and rude and is about to stop the keeping an open mind thing about a month into their first year but then he comes back to their dorm early from class one day and tony doesnt come in so rhodey is just standing there and watches for a minute as tony sits there staring down at his twenty sixth attempt at a letter he wants to send his mom becauss he knows his mom likes letters even though he could just call but they havent really called him (howards fault but he’s fourteen still and its hard to rationalize that howards busy life and controlling thumb extends past his son) and rhodey is just confused because tony just suddenly sighs and sniffles a bit and murmurs “this is so stupid” and crumbles up the paper and throws it in the garbage and rhodey cant help but peer into it and barely sees the words hey mom scribbled at the top and that. that. hm. okay.

so rhodey keeps trying because he wasnt supposed to see that but he did and now he kind of has a feeling that maybe tony isnt all that cold and distant and rude as he seems, maybe he just doesnt really know how to be any different, so he thinks about all the subtle little ways that his family has shown him they care about him and starts to invite tony to go get food or to study together even though neither of them really need to study or to help each other with assignments or just anything thats mundane enough to not raise suspicion but still starts to open the door and make tony relax around him just that little bit and then before tony realizes it the end of their first year is there and theyre like friends or something and it hits him that he’s gonna miss rhodey.

for the first time ever there’s someone other than his mom and jarvis that he’s actually going to miss.

rhodey grins at him and says that they’ll be roommates again next year because they have to be and that the summer will be over before they know it and the sentiment is nice but tony spends the summer alone wandering around a house too big and empty after being in a dorm that’s small and has a friend.

but rhodey doesn’t know this. like he knows that tony isn’t the kind of guy he originally assumed but he doesn’t know that he’s literally ignored and neglected and like emotionally and sometimes verbally abused so he’s kind of surprised when the next year begins and they DO end up being roommates again (because tony kind of asked his mom, on a rare day when he got to see her and howard wasnt around, to get mit to make sure they could be) and tony just HUGS him like its been years and they’ve known each other forever but he goes with it and hugs him back because maybe tony’s just more affectionate once he gets to know someone and rhodey is okay w that.

they get closer as the years go by and they graduate from mit together and they’re BEST friends and at the end of the year rhodey invites tony to spend new years eve w his family but tony cant bc howard is having some kind of gala starting at 5 because hes weird and dumb and tony hates it and he also isnt given the option of not going even though he doesnt want to but the entire way there howard drills into him about not fucking up and berates him for all the times he has in the past and when they get there tony is already just not feeling it so he’s like nope!! no!! i simply cannot!!

so he goes in and finds an exit thats in the back and he leaves and finds a fucking payphone of all things and he has rhodeys home number memorized for years now and he calls and someone he doesnt knoe answers and theres music in the background and voices and tony’s entire stomach is in his throat and his heart is sunken into his twisted gut because he just wanted one night where maybe he could smile next to his parents and feel like he fit with them but he couldnt have that and he asks to talk to rhodey and then he is and asks if its too late to accept his invite and rhodey is like yeah of course do u need my address bc its still only 5 pm and its a 2 hour drive between south philadelphia and manhattan so he’d make it with plenty of time before it got to midnight so yay

and tony is like. oh. hm. i dont know how to drive actually. that was a thing that no one ever thought to teach me even though i asked about it about ten million times. and rhodey is used to tony not knowing how to do things that most people their age can (see: the toast) and plus its not uncommon for people from new york to not drive anyway so he doesnt think anything of it and instead asks for tony’s address to come pick him up instead and they’d still make it back by like 9-9:30 so that would work too

and thats when tony is like. well.

about that.

he might be calling from a payphone.

on a random street corner.

and its kind of raining. and he’s cold. and he’s a bit dulled out from everything so he doesn’t really think about the fact that admitting this is going to lead to having to explain what happened and also why and that is happens often. but that doesnt matter because he kind of just wants to be with his best friend and not back at that gala with his dad right now.

rhodey is like,,, ok. ok. wheres a coffee shop nearby u can wait in. and tony thankfully is by a 24 hour one and tells him the name and the street corner its closest to and rhodey is like i’ll be there asap and tony goes and he waits.

a two hour drive turns into an hour and a half because rhodey is Worried™

but when he walks in tony goes from being all dulled out to being all HOLY SHIT because rhodey has a SPLIT LIP and he’s like WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED WHAT THE FUCK WHAT

and rhodey’s like no no its good my uncle was having fun and trying to wrestle with me and he accidentally elbowed me its all good man dont worry about it

tony isnt used to accidentally being hurt tho so he’s still like hmmm but he takes rhodeys word on it and they head out and tony wont say what happened or why he was calling from a payphone ?? which btw tony literally only was able to do bc there happened to be dropped change on the ground because boy would not have change on him ok, but rhodeys like alright lets go with this for now

so they gets to the rhodes house and it is in full swing with family and extended family and adopted family bc they are 100% the family that just adopts the neighborhood kids and the people who have no one else and like ex boyfriends and ex girlfriends even after the relationship ends bc they still are family despite not dating whoever it was they had been dating in order to be introduced to them so its a LOT of people and tony is like. this is semi familiar in terms a lot of people but this is NOTHING like what he has ever seen before holy fucking SHIT

rhodey is just like oh u have a small family then? so ur used to smaller gatherings?

and tonys like wtf are gatherings

and rhodey is starting to get a feel for what might be wrong but just takes tony inside to get him changed because he’s not spending new years eve at the rhodes house in a fucking expensive suit ok

tony is completely out of his element and like he’s not the only white guy there bc again the rhodes adopt people and those people are of every race and nationally you can imagine but he just isnt used to the vibe there are people laughing and sitting close together and playing games and theres music playing but not like classy music its music people can dance to and are dancing to and the food isnt the food he’s used to at galas and shit and nothing is what he’s used to and he just sticks to rhodey’s side like a fucking lost puppy and tries his best not to look like an idiot when rhodey introduces him to people and a lot of them know who he is but dont judge him or assume shit about him bc obviously if he’s friends w rhodey then he’s a good guy and they want to know him and thats enough

but tony is v overwhelmed bc what the FUCK IS HAPPENING this is nothing like anything he has ever experienced EVER

so eventually rhodey can tell he’s getting overwhelmed and takes him inside and lets him have a breather and then asks him about whats going in and thats when rhodey learns about what tonys life at home is really like and. anger.

SO MUCH anger

because not only has every single assumption he has ever made about tony been proven wrong, but now he knows that the best person he knows has never been treated the way he deserves and has never known a true home and comfort and love and safety and

and he’s gonna fix it

and this is the first step

so he takes tony back out and they’re still just friends but this is the day they both quietly realize they might kind of definitely like each other as more because tony is still so confused by the fact that what he knows isnt the normal and overwhelmed by how much there is and how different it is but rhodey holds his hand as a grounding point and whenever it might be too much they move off to the side where they arent completely gone but its less hectic and a bit more quiet and its just nice

tony goes to rhodeys house for every holiday despite whatever howard says

rhodey decks howard the only time they ever meet before tonys parents die and he has the most shit eating grin on his face afterwards that tony cant help but lose his shit laughing his ass off

anyway i didnt mean to ramble for so long about that specific idea so i’ll end the ironhusbands ramble with this one last thought, which is as follows:

rhodey gets hurt in the air force at some point, and it isnt that bad tbh but he does have to go the hospital and shit and gets stitches or whatever idk i dont know what specifically happens i just think it’d be just bad enough that it takes him a few weeks to be able to go back to work but he’s not like OH GOD HURT yk?

but like stated above tony was scared and worried when rhodey told him he was gonna go into the air force so he hears about this and they’re probably like almost 30 at this point because they’re dumb and it takes them forever to get their heads out of their asses (i say this even though in the portal closed it takes them even longer but i digress) rhodey has like his mon his sister his niece visiting him and they were worried but they know hes fine so theyre just talking and in a good mood and then—

door slams open. tony stark enter stage left. disheveled suit, fresh from a meeting he definitely was not supposed to leave, having flown in from maibu the second he heard and then had happy drive him and then got impatient because of traffic and ended up sprinting like ten blocks while happy was like what the FUCK

of course rhodeys family are well aware that these idiots are desperately in love with each other so they’re just like lol ok and just leave the room while tony starts fretting over him like he’s about to die himself if he doesnt know if rhodey is okay and rhodey is like tony tony dude tones stop tony im okay tony stop it

until finally tony just fucking breaks down like full on tears in his eyes voice cracking hands clasped as he leans against rhodeys bed and tells him that he was so scared and he is so scared all the time whenever rhodey is out there because all he can think about is losing him and him getting hurt or dying and it’s maddening and this is when they get their heads out of their asses and kiss for the first time

(irony at its finest bc later when they are married and tony becomes iron man rhodey refuses to not have a suit of his own because if tony is going out there in a metal flying tin can then he isn’t going alone and wow what a power couple)

sambucky:

firstly i’m going to go post tfatws, but i’ll make a bullet point before going into it so if you wanna read up until that point you can but most of this will be random little headcanons based post tfatws

also it isnt like a whole plotline thing like the ironhusbands ones ended up being these ones are more random and kinda all over the place but loosely connected

update from after writing this: i lied

let me start by saying my interpretation of why they are the way they are in civil war is because of steve

thats not saying steve is the bad guy i mean to say that they’re jealous of each other because they thought that THEY were steve’s best friend who the fuck is THIS guy i dont want him here go away

children. they are children.

which i find very funny to imagine from sams pov because he literally is a licensed therapist and would 100% recognize why he’s acting how he is but he’s petty enough to do it anyway

and also he literally was helping steve track bucky down but i like to imagine that sam didnt think they’d ever really find him again and it’d just make him and steve like super mega best friends or something because hes a CHILD

and then from bucky’s pov steve goes through all this trouble to find him and protect him and then this random guy is acting like steve’s best friend and gets to sit in the front seat ??? bullshit. absolutely bullshit. worst thing ever. so stupid.

its so funny to me okay its SO funny

its like that schoolyard thing where your friend makes another friend and you hate it so much that you do something stupid like color on their drawing or put gum in their hair or whatever but they’re adults with 1. super soldier serum or 2. a superhero reputation/avengers status and suit with wings. so thats a thing.

post civil war i dont think they get much yk. because bucky is out in cryo and team cap is on the run and i doubt theyre able to return to wakanda much, if at all, and then it’s infinity war and then it’s endgame and after endgame there’s the aftermath and the aftermath is a mess

i like to think they have some moments before tfatws though. not many but enough for that slight foundation thats we can kind of see in episode 2 yk.

okay NOW it gets into post tfatws so!!

SO post tfatws everything is different because now they not only have spent all this time together, but they understand each other in a way that they didn’t before. in a way no one ever has. not even steve, who may have known them before, but he isn’t here anymore and he wouldn’t understand who they are now vs who they were before and it’s different.

bucky finds comfort in sam’s home town. sam finds comfort in watching bucky find a home there and he doesnt know why.

also sam treats redwing like a puppy and lets him fly around on his own and gets pet and stuff and bucky acts annoyed but the longer it happens you can tell he’s like “oh my god why is this thing endearing”

bucky has nightmares and sam knows this but bucky doesnt know that sam also has nightmares until one night when they’re still in sams home town and they’re staying on the boat because sams nephews are having a sleepover with some friends and they didnt want to get in the way or smth idk i just want an excuse for them to be on the boat and somewhat secluded from people but bucky already woke up from his nightmare and is out on the deck to get some fresh out and then oop

sam havin a nightmare too

because fucking of COURSE sam has nightmares he has been through some shit too!! not being able to catch riley and everything that happened since meeting steve and thanos and he turned to dust alone in the bushes ok like yes everyone that died were traumatized undoubtedly (peter my baby boy baby im so sorry that you got the worst of it) but bucky was around people but sam was laying on the ground and probably just watched his hands as he disappeared and he was alone and like. jesus christ ok.

and then steve trusted him with every weight and everything that comes with the shield not knowing how much more the shield has when he gave it to a black man and just like he has nightmares everyone in marvel does its a fact

but bucky finds out like this and he is shocked even though he realizes he probably should have been able to guess that this is a thing and he knows so much more about sam now than he ever did but this is how he learns more. he learns about riley. he learns so much.

sometimes bucky has those like “oh shit” moments where he’s like “maybe i was kind of a dick to someone who didnt deserve it” and he already had one of those with sam about the shield but he has another one because he assumed shit about sam when they were being all childish and jealous about someone else being friends with steve but like fuck

steve and sam probably got it

the not catching someone. the way it felt to try and to reach out and to miss and to have to choice but to watch as they fell.

what’s different is that steve got bucky back. he got to have that relief, eventually, even if there was the pain of knowing bucky had been taken by hydra, but at least he knew bucky had made it.

sam didn’t have that. riley didnt make it.

therefore, bucky has his “oh shit”

and bucky was already going soft around the edges with sam (as clearly seen in the last two episodes of tfatws, ESPECIALLY the finale because like did tou SEEZ ALL THE HEART EYES oh my GOD) but it’s this that really makes something in him melt and he just. he loses the last remnants of whatever tension or resentment or whatever negative feeling he may have been clutching onto.

there wasnt much left. but now theres none. now its all washed away.

its gone, and he gets it.

sam is a licensed therapist and he knew the reason he was being all dumb and childish and jealous with bucky was because steve had another best friend but also because steve’s other best friend was the guy that had been a big factor in how him and steve understood each other and how they bonded and it

it had kind of felt like they lost part of that when they found bucky again in civil war and he kind of wanted to blame bucky for it even though he didnt actually blame him at all so all it translated to was that dumb kind of jealous thing instead

but now it’s just them. its sam and bucky and it isnt steve and it isnt about steve and it shouldnt be because its about them. its about the boat and the water and the way they sit and watch the waves while the silence settles over them and the way that bucky says, “im sorry.”

its the way sam says, “me too.”

and bucky says, “you dont have to be.”

its the way they stay there until sarah comes to get them for breakfast and sams nephews convince them to play with them and their friends and the world is still shit and there is so much to do but

but its this and its them and that can wait

it can wait

they can take their time if they want to

maybe they’ve earned that much, at least

(it isn't a fast development because they're a complicated pair and there's so much to the two of them that need to figured out individually before they can even realize how well they work together, but the steps are so much easier knowing that they have the other in their corner and bucky knows that sam's home town is a place he's welcome to go and sam helps him make his own dreary little apartment into something that feels real and tangible with a bed and a couch and when they've become something that resembles stable and they've found a balance and they're okay, that's when they realize that maybe they can try for the more that sometimes bubbles under their skin and that they started to think about the more they spend time together. the warmth that sam feels every time he sees bucky playing games with his nephew and the smile that bucky has to fight to hide and still can't fully suppress when sam stands tall and proud with the shield in its rightful place, and it takes time, it takes work, it takes carefully placed bricks to build the foundation they need, but they get there, and when they do...

when they do, they're already happy, and it just makes them happier, and that's what makes it so much better.

that's what makes it worth the wait.)

[bibliocratic]

Been thinking about Martin being sad about/hating the way he looks bc he looks like his dad, and he tries to talk to Jon abt it, but he's Too Vague so Jon thinks he's worried that Jon doesn't like that he's fat and consequently comforts him about the wrong thing

This took so long, anon, sorry!

Because of the subject matter, there are content warnings in the tags

The first time Martin sees his own face, limp-eyed, flat and drained in the feeble straining light of the bathroom, he starts shaking. A stretching in his chest, like he's swallowed a swelling balloon that is pushing all the air out of him, bunging up his lungs and throat and mouth. That's how Jon finds him, tears sprung to his eyes as he sucks in scant and skittish breathes, his fingers clenching the lip of the sink and wondering why he can't be stronger than all this.  

After that, Martin takes to avoiding mirrors while he's in the safehouse.

It's not hard. He's had lots of practise recently. The Lonely had displayed many double-edged poisons in its folds disguised as furtive blessings. His reflection had been one of them. Martin had counted it as a grateful novelty, to walk past glass shop fronts and the over-stark bathroom mirrors in the staff toilets and see the refusal of light to grant his image returned to him. Even his exile to the seafront, the rock-pools vacant of crawling life or stubborn salt-encrusted fronds of lichen, had shown him only the eddy of tide, the ripples that his steps barely disturbed in the landscape.

It had been a kindness of sorts, to take his image from him. The mirror had never shown Martin anything but things he hadn't cared to see, his own neurosis writ large and backwards.

The morning is not unusual. The birds had woken him, piping shrill even through the double glazing, and Jon, still dozy and drooling his words into his pillow, had cursed and moaned indignant at the vocal wildlife. Martin had dropped back off for another twenty or so minutes, a smirk raising the sleep-dry corners of his lips, waking up when the bed creaked and Jon had stood and stretched and made all sorts of horrendous cracking noises like some sort of human castanet.

This morning though, Jon is in the bathroom, shaving, and making a worrying racket doing so, and Martin is still in that sort of headachy realm of not quite awake yet, where he still gathering the components than make him functional as he shuffles around in his boxers and waits for the shower to be free. Martin's not sure why today, but he finds himself opening the wardrobe. Inside, on the back of the left-hand side door, there's a full length mirror, pocked a little with age and smeared with dust.

Martin's not sure why he feels strong enough today to look.

The thing he expects to see first: his hair shorn down, just shy of a buzz cut. Martin's been doing it himself for years, every month or so hunching over the sink and bathroom mirror in his old flat in Stockwell and uniformly mowing his hair down to a prickly ginger fuzz.

His mum never liked his hair when he grew it out. Snapped and sniped about how long it was getting whenever it started to bend in a curl,  encroaching over his ears, and he'd not always had the money or time to go into town and go to the barber's. When he got his first job, scrimping aside the little he'd left over at the end of the month, he'd bought clippers from the nearest Boots, attached the first guard he'd picked up and ran it over his scalp until the up-scrub was spiky and even. The first time was a bit of a hack-job, lopsided and uneven, but he's improved his technique with time. The method and cut was cheap and basic and he wasn't fond of the way it made his ears look stuck out, but it was one less thing he had to worry about, one less thing his mum could disapprove of.

His hair now hangs, uninspired, slightly greasy and knotted over his ears. Shaggy-dog over his forehead until he swipes it back, a small curl down to the nape of his neck.

He looks like his dad. Sees the man he barely knew staring back, the image lost that Elias had so viciously returned. Studies his snubnose struck centre, a wide jaw that rounds out his face, ruddy cheeks with sparse and spotting freckles. Some of the hairs of his eyebrows are starting to grey. His eyes seem suspicious, washed out, unhappy. He wonders if this is what Jon sees, a man whose closed-off expression does not appear to trust the world nor its motives.

The sort of man who might just up and leave if the going gets tough.

Jon pads into the room, though Martin doesn't turn round.  He puts all his weight on the front of his feet, always has; even in the Archives, Martin could place Jon's footsteps next to Sasha's sturdier stride, Tim's faster tread.

Jon plants his face against Martin's back, grumbles through a good morning. He's smooth jawed again, his skin baking from the shower, his hair not quite towelled off properly, still dripping.

“Lookin' handsome,” Jon mumbles, throwing out a hand to gesture at the mirror, at the twin men standing awkward and self-conscious opposite each other.

Martin observes at his own hands cast back at him through the mirror. His thick arms, the round and pasty pale of them. He has big hands, he thinks to himself. Broad, weathered palms, the skin cracking dry, short and stubby fingers. Hair starts to grow sparse on the back of his hand close to his wrist and only gets thicker and denser up his arms. Jon slumped standing immediately behind him isn't visible in the reflection; Martin's body takes up too much room, wide and solid, even when he wants to secrete himself smaller. He's tall, like Dad was, he guesses, though he stoops and hunches in his shoulders to try and negate it. Martin thinks he looks like the sort of man that plays rugby and drinks too much. When he's walking home, trudging through the residential streets between the tube station and his flat, people passing him sometimes scrunch their body in away from him, and every time that hurts. In the dark, without his stumbling words and over-eager expression and his clumsiness, something about him looks like it could turn nasty, and Martin doesn't know how to take that.

He went drinking with Tim and Sasha once in Lambeth.  They'd had four or five and Sasha had bought them obnoxiously coloured and overpriced cocktails before dragging Tim over to the pool table, Martin sitting out to the side amiably, sipping his sugar-heavy drink and tapping his feet to the music someone put on the jukebox. Two men came over ten minutes later, drunker than them, arguing that they'd been there first, and Sasha had been fired up enough to snap back. It had looked like a scrap brewing, so Martin had put his drink down and stood up, anxiously ready and willing to urge Tim and Sasha away just to keep the peace. The two had looked at him, eyes roving up before they held up their hands, backing off, saying they'd come back when they'd finish.

“No bother, ey, big lad?” they'd slurred at Martin. “Didn't mean anything by it.”

Sasha had beamed as they left, and called Martin a lucky charm. He hadn't felt very lucky. He'd felt sick at the reminder.  

The problem as he sees it, is that everything about him is big.

Inside: too big heart and too raw-open soul. A great vast reservoir where he keeps every bubbling expression of fear and grief and rage that he's never expressed with his body.

Outside: big stocky arms, an over-hanging stomach matched with a tall spine and the sort of footsteps that announce his arrival well before he enters a room.

Martin's dad never hit his mum. He assumes that's something Elias would have glibly enjoyed sharing.  But sometimes he'd stood too close when they'd been fighting, looming, deliberately crowding in her space, and she'd noticed how much taller he was, how much stronger. She'd thought she saw something mean and nasty in his eyes, the way he clenched his fists that meant he wanted to.

She'd imagined she saw that look in her son sometimes too.

Martin worries about that. Worries what other poisoned legacies his dad left him with.

“Mart'n?” Jon says. He's encircled his arms as far as he can around him, though they don't link up, scratching his nails through the hair on his chest. His hands long-boned but smaller, slighter.

Jon is not a small man nor a tall one, average in appearance in most ways if not for the scars, if not for the way the composite of his image makes Martin's heart something stronger in his chest. But Martin is bigger than him when they lie together, Jon's side of the bed made less by default, shunting him further over to the corners. Martin is stronger than him, because Martin has lifted him bodily to hear Jon's laughing protestations as Martin manhandled him onto the sofa and kissed the veins down his throat, the blush risen in his cheeks.

And Martin's angrier than he used to be. Or angrier than he used to admit to being. His mood pinballing from flat to frustrated as everything the Lonely dulled ploughs back into him, all of Martin's mechanisms, the checks-and-balances he built within himself gone ruinous. Martin can be so angry these days, and he doesn't know how to deal with it.

Martin doesn't like the way that worry fizzes under his tongue.

“My dad had big hands,” he says out of nowhere. “He wore some rings, I think, and he had to get them resized to fit his fingers.”

“You making plans to get us rings already?”

Jon's joke is shy and nudging, but Martin doesn't feel like raising the corners of his mouth in a smile.

Martin moves a hand to squeeze the flesh that bunches around his upper arms, pats his stomach.

“I've definitely got his belly,” he says. “His arms. Prob'ly end up with his hair to boot, he was receding a bit.”

Jon's hands stroke palm down over what stomach he can reach.

“I like your stomach,” he says, and it's not that Martin doesn't believe him, because he's getting better at not doubting people, at allowing himself to trust they might like something about him. It's that that wasn't the point.

“Hmm,” Martin says noncommittally, and glances at his own hands again. Square chewed nails and the small bumps of veins.

“You don't look happy,” Jon says.

“What? No, I mean, it – it's fine, it's...”

“Do you... not like looking in the mirror?”

Martin sighs.

“Not particularly.”

“Because you have a problem with how you look?”

“You don't have to spell it out like that, Jon.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're a – my therapist or something. I don't want to – to be questioned o-or psychoanalysed about it. I just, no – I don't like looking at myself. That's all.”

Jon's arms don't unhook from around him. Martin exhales and feels the frustration like sediment build up.

“I look exactly like my dad,” Martin says finally, bitterly.

“You don't,” Jon replies quietly, into the meat of Martin's shoulder.

“You can't know that,” Martin says, although the words are empty of meaning and they both know it. Jon both can and does, whether he means to or not.

Feeling his Adam's apple bob, he continues: “Elias, he showed me. When I was – er, when we needed him distracted.”

Jon's arms clench around him.

“Elias showed you what he wanted you to see,” he says after a careful moment.

Martin shakes his head, because he saw what he'd known already, what his mum had seen, the trickle of memory gushing torrential. That he has his dad's big fingers, big hands and big anger, and he is frightened of what sort of a man that makes him.

“I could....” Jon's fingers flex and skate over the skin where Martin's stretch marks root down to his hips. “I could look? If you wanted? Tell you if Elias was... if what he showed you was true.”

Martin thinks about it, but Jon feels the silence of his refusal and presses his nose against the freckled handful of skin where Martin's shoulder blades are.

“I'll tell you what I see then?”

“See see, you mean?”

“No. Normal seeing. With my own two eyeballs.”

“I am being blessed with the originals today, what a gift.”

Jon headbutts him with his forehead, and the small laugh and a 'Jon!' is pushed out of him as a scarred palm is held up near his face, an eyelid opening in the skin to leer at Martin.

“Put your bloody Pan's Labyrinth eyeball away,” Martin grouches, and he can feel Jon grinning mischievous as the disconcerting eyeball winks before being sunk closed back into the skin.

“Better?”

“I am never going to get used to that.”

Jon makes a noise of agreement. He unplasters himself from Martin's back, and takes a tugging hold of his wrist.

“Look at me?”

Martin lets himself be turned round. Weak-willed, soft-spined to the last wherever Jon is concerned.

Jon looking up at him now, fringed with damp locks seaweeding down his face. Martin brushes them back out of the way, and Jon captures his hand, meshes their fingers together slowly and precisely.

“Tell me?” he asks quietly. “What you've been thinking about? And I'll tell you what I see.”

“My hands,” Martin says after a moment and Jon nods and hums and holds Martin's captured palm in front of him.

“Bigger than mine,” Jon says, demonstrating, holding the two of them as imperfect reflections of each other.  “You've got short nails because you bite them. The cold's making the skin dry, but they're soft, usually. Sturdy. Even when – even when we were leaving the Lonely, I knew once you took my hand we wouldn't get separated.”

“My – er, my arms,” Martin says after a while, prodding with his free hand at the loose flesh at the undersides of his arms. “Well, my bingo wings.”

Jon frowns, reaches up to encircle his grip around them.

“You've got muscle under there,” he says. “You can lift me, no trouble. The first time you did, I, um, couldn't help but hope you'd do it again.”

Martin finds it in himself to meet Jon's gaze.

“Yeah?” he says, pleased.

Jon is starting to blotch with blush, but he carries on, fingers stroking Martin's upper arms.

“Even if you weren't strong,” he says. “You've got – your, um. Freckles. There's no pattern to them, of course, but I like seeing if I can find one anyway.”

“You're a big softie,” Martin chides roughly, dry-mouthed and watery eyed.

Jon doesn't deny it.

“What else?” he asks delicately.

“I'm – I'm heavy,” Martin says, the words shrivelling quiet on his tongue. “I-I don't mind – I'm not ashamed of being, you know, not the smallest guy, I've never had a-a problem with it, not exactly, but I-I'm bigger than you. I'm stronger than you and I take up more room and, my dad, I look so much like him s-s-so what if – ”

He trails off. Swallowing. Unable to finish.

Jon's arms embrace him and he allows himself to be bent down, the angle uncomfortable and Jon on tip-toe, his face mushed into the side of Jon's throat.

Jon rubs at the broad expanse of his back.

“You'd never hurt me,” Jon says, fiercely. “Whether you look like your father or not. You're not him, Martin. I can't, I know I can't convince you, but it doesn't matter if you've got his arms or his eyes or his hair. He's never been where you've been, or done what you've managed. I bet he doesn't – doesn't write poetry, or whistle the Archer's theme tune, or I dunno, is completely useless at catching things.” Martin gives a wet attempt at a laugh. Jon's hands move comfortingly up and down.

“You're not your dad,” Jon continues after a moment. “You aren't responsible for the man he was, or the man your mother thought she saw in you. That's not – it's not your burden to carry. Fuck whatever shadows Elias showed you. You're not him. It's – I can't make you like what you see in the mirror, but when I look at you, I don't see any of the things you're scared of.”

“You can really just, know all that, huh,” Martin says after a minute, lifting up his head, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

“I don't need to,” Jon replies.

Martin's hugs are crushing and enveloping but Jon clings back as tightly.

Martin pulls back after a minute, wiping his eyes again though he knows they've gone red and puffy, already feeling the crimping heat of self-consciousness in his chest. Jon leans back in to kiss him, first his lips, and then his cheek, quick and affirming, as he trails his fingers through his hair.

“You'll be wanting this cut soon,” Jon says, although he seems disappointed at the thought, combing his fingers through the tangle self-indulgently.

“I might try growing it out.” Martin tests the water of the idea, and Jon looks approving at this, nods and hums and runs his fingers through again.

It's been a long time since his hair was longer. Martin thinks he might suit it.

“What would you say to a beard?” Martin follows up,  just to see Jon try to valiantly quash his dissatisfaction and keep a neutral expression. He almost succeeds.

“If you... If you think it best,” Jon manages stiffly. 

Martin's laugh is a free and booming thing in his chest.

[celosiaa]

I dont know if you're taking prompts at the moment but when you have time if the idea interests you what about martin greying after their time in the apocalypse and growing a beard and being distressed because he looks like his father. jon comforts him and helps him feel better about his appearance. maybe some soft domestic comfort where jon helps martin dye his hair and shave the beard away to look like himself again.

hi friend!!! thank you for this prompt, it’s probably not perfect bc I wrote it really fast!! But I hope you like it anyway :)

CW panic attack

When Jon wakes, head still spinning in the light of the sun, Martin is once again gone. And Jon is so, so very tired.

Tired of the weariness, the deep ache that has settled so heavily in his bones he is unsure if he will ever truly shake it. Tired of the sapping away of his strength, as he attempts to rebuild, day by day by day even after a year has gone by since the end of all things.

Tired of waking up alone.

It’s a wonderful thing, in a way, to know that something is wrong with Martin rather than Knowing it—the realization that he is, in fact, able to discern when something is bothering the love of his life is a rather comforting fact, after everything. Even so, he finds himself frustrated. Frustrated with the fact that he cannot intuit the source of his husband’s distress, much less pull anything out of him.

Martin is shutting down. Plain as day. And it terrifies him.

Running a hand briefly over the Martin-shaped imprint beside him, long gone cold, Jon props himself up on too-slender arms, waiting a moment for the spots to clear from his vision, and standing on too-slender legs. At once, he reaches for his cane at the bedside, finding his injury sitting heavy in his hip this day—and heads quietly out of the room and into the hall.

If Jon had not known better, he would never have guessed that Martin were there at all. For the entirety of their normally-cozy, tiny little flat seems nothing but desolate and dustladen and darkening, ever darkening. Something Lonely creeping through every window sill, beneath the outside door, through the vents—

Streaming from the open bathroom door.

Of course, Jon had seen it coming for days, had tried to warn Martin of the fog carried on each of the few words he has spoken over the past few days. But it did not matter—Martin has often explained how muffled everything becomes while he finds himself once again in this place. Muffled and meaningless and fading, fading. Buried under guilt and fear and apologies, so many apologies that Jon could drown in them.

And now, perhaps—just perhaps, he might let him in. If the open door of the bathroom is a sign to be taken as hopeful.

“Martin,” he calls as he approaches the doorframe. “Habibi, are you alright?”

Upon looking in, he finds Martin leaning over the sink—staring with empty eyes back into the emptiness of his reflection in the mirror, fog swirling so thick beneath his glasses it’s a wonder he can see at all. The word that comes first to Jon’s mind is frozen—and he cannot help but hurt over just how long he has stood here, alone and in his private grief, limbs shaking ever so slightly in their static hold.

“Habibi,” he starts again—quieter this time, stepping a bit closer. “Look at me. I’m right here.”

He follows these words with resting a hand against his forearm—ever so gentle and cautious, yet Martin jumps bodily all the same.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Jon continues, without moving his hand away.

“…what?” is the eventual reply, so dim and far away it echoes, swirling around Jon’s head dizzyingly.

“Look at me, Martin. Can you look at me?” he pleads, beginning to rub his hand up and down his forearm now, anything to create some warmth over his ice-cold skin.

“Jon.”

“Yes. Right here, please look at me.”

At last, at long last—Martin turns his face away from the mirror, the fog beginning to dissipate from his eyes as soon as he meets Jon’s. The ache of it all sends something twisting in his stomach, over the fact that this still happens so regularly, that Martin still struggles to be open, even with him, even after all this time.

And buries it.

“There you are,” he soothes as he slips a hand up and into his hair, beginning to stroke through it as Martin starts to come back to himself. “You with me?”

He blinks a few more times, slowly, strangely—before tensing suddenly beneath Jon’s hands, eyes blown wide as he gasps in a breath.

“J-Jon—”

“Easy. Easy, now,” he murmurs easily, grasping at his arm once again. “Just sit down. You’re alright.”

“Jon—”

“Sit down, my love.”

Back to the wall, Martin slides down to sitting braced against it—bowing his head between his knees at once, one hand against his throat as he gasps for something beyond the fog to fill his lungs. Jon steps over his feet—coming to rest on the side of the tub, leaning forward to keep a gentle pressure moving across his shoulders as he works through the panic. All too common panic, unfortunately.

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

As always, Jon feels so helpless here. He knows there is very little to be done but to sit and wait, talk if it helps, stop if it doesn’t, always keeping that contact to ground Martin in warmth. Every time his heart breaks—and every time he swallows the lump in his throat, no matter how thick with fog it may be.

“I’m right here.”

Several minutes pass this way, rapid breaths fading into rhythm, color returning back to Martin’s skin, the fog at at last dissipating into the floor beneath them. And finally—finally—Martin looks up, eyes just barely meeting Jon’s for a moment before he covers them in shame.

“God, I’m so sorry, Jon,” he croaks, scrubbing over his eyes as he speaks. “Happened again.”

“No need, habibi,” Jon replies, as always. “No need.”

And still the silence remains for a while, Jon’s hand never leaving Martin’s back, Martin’s hand never falling away from his eyes in his misery. It is in this moment, feeling his husband shaking beneath him for the third morning in a row, and the fourth this week, that Jon makes a decision.

“Martin,” he begins, pausing to worry at his lower lip for a moment. “Martin, please…please tell me why this is happening.”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” comes the terrible reply, the one that tells Jon there is so much hurt still left to heal in his soul.

“I am worried. And will continue to worry, because I love you.”

A small huff of laughter behind a ghost of a smile.

“I love you too,” he replies, as if still shocked he is allowed to say it.

“Then please—talk to me.”

“It’s silly—it’s nothing, I dunno why it’s bothering me so much,” he continues, at last letting the hand covering his eyes fall and rest atop his knee. “And—and I’m sorry it’s—it’s worrying you. But I’m alright.”

Yet another small and fragile thing shatters in Jon’s chest over this—this utter falsehood, that he would ever see Martin drowning in the Lonely and think only of himself. That he would ever think that way.

“I-I wouldn’t—this isn’t about me, Martin,” he assures, refusing to bely the hurt pushing against the steadiness of his voice. “I know that you are hurting. Please—please tell me why, and I will help.”

“Jon—”

“That’s all I want. Is to help.”

A moment—a long, terrible moment in which Jon cannot be sure he is trusted, cannot be sure he is ready to talk. That he will have to accept whatever the next breath brings, even if it hurts. Even if it hurts.

Please please please

“I—like I said, it’s silly, right?” Martin begins to choke out, tears rising immediately as he begins to speak. “I-I know it is. And I’m just going to sit here and blubber about it like a fool.”

“It’s not silly if it hurts you.”

“I—well, just—just wait till you hear it,” he says tremulously, letting out a terribly damp little laugh at the end, swiping at his eyes yet again. “It’s just that—with the, the grey, and the—beard, I—god—I look just like my dad.”

And there it is at last, the aching truth of it all. The trauma Martin would rather call silliness. The panic he would rather call a terrible display of dramatics. The tears he will apologize for in three, two—

“God, I’m so sorry,” he bursts through gritted teeth, trying desperately to make a noise sounding something like laughter.

“Martin—”

“It’s so silly, I—”

“Stop, stop.”

Catching both of Martin’s hands in his own, Jon grips them tightly, tilting his head in a gesture that begs Martin to look, please look at me. And when he does, eyes still brimming and barely holding together—it’s nearly enough to do Jon in altogether.

“It is not silly,” he begins forcefully, gently. “You have every right to feel upset by this. This—this pain makes sense—and it is real, and it is justified. Alright?”

The damp smile Jon receives in return is enough to tell him that Martin does not really believe him, perhaps he never will—but that his words are appreciated all the same.

“Now listen. There are some things we could do that might help, alright?” he continues, starting to massage Martin’s hands gently as the tears begin to fall in earnest, trying to keep his shoulders from shaking. “I could—I could help you dye it. Any color at all. And—only if you want—I can help you shave. If you think it might help.”

A laugh—a real, if still damp, laugh comes from him then—cast in the glow of a genuine smile. As it always has and always will—it sets Jon’s heart fluttering with love for this man, for his anchor—for his love. For his always.

“Yeah, I—heh—” he begins, swiping away the remaining wetness with another laugh. “Early thirties is a bit young to go grey, I reckon.”

“Is it now?” Jon teases at once, a grin spreading wide across his face, tossing his own greying hair over one shoulder. “Is that young to go grey?”

“Oh come off it,” Martin says, rolling his eyes, bumping a shoulder against Jon’s leg. “You know what I meant.”

[the-scarecrxw]

📓 :D

okay <3 I'm very fond of The Boys Retiring apparently but I have this one fic that I've just barely started but it's probably gonna be long.

So au Jeremiah going crazy plotline never happens. it's just chaos of chaos' sake. Rome still gets shot and is out of the picture for awhile. Jonathan and Jervis are up to no good until Jervis gets arrested (Jonathan very rudely does not give a fuck and doesn't help him) then like a week later Jerome emerges and together they cause chaos.

After a seemingly only Jerome attack on the gcpd (jim voice: that knockout gas hasn't been identified, tho. could be Crane.) Jim and Harvey are searching around the gcpd for any stragglers of Jerome's followers and such and whoops they check an alley and completely interrupt Jerome and Jonathan's post mission adrenaline rush bang and after some awkward back and forth (and Rome admitting he tossed his gun the moment he saw Jon) Jim is like "fuckin idiots. please cuff yourselves."

As they're leading them away Harvey makes a snide comment calling them freaks (bc Jerome made a joke about handcuffing Jonathan) and Jonathan does Not take it well and promptly elbows him and bolts, and Jerome quickly follows. Jim and Harvey take fire but the boys are able to duck out of the alley unscathed.

or so it seemed. Jerome looks back to not see Jonathan. He of course immediately turns back and oh god Jonathan is on the ground and there's blood and Jerome is panicking and getting angry because and Jim Fucking Gordon shot his boyfriend in the lung and hes probably dying.

this got long whoops one sec

Jim. feels very bad. he has very much so always felt bad about Jonathan. he always thought if he'd been quicker he could have saved him from his dad's serum. if he payed more attention to his case afterwards he wouldn't have gotten sent to Arkham. Abused there. Wouldn't have become Scarecrow. And now he just shot him. he's just a kid, really. barely 18.

Jim of course is like "okay, be mad later and help me stabilize him. get him on his side, put lots of pressure." in the bg Harvey is calling an ambulance and a patrol car to take Jerome to the precinct. Jerome very fiercely fights that he's not leaving Jonathan, who at this point is very out of it. So out of it that Jerome is very concerned and Jim is like "uhh yeah he's in shock because his lung just collapsed" and Jerome is like👌this close to strangling Jim but that would mean taking pressure off of Jonathan's wound.

Patrol car is there, ambulance another few minutes out. Officer switches places with Jim so he can take Jerome to the precinct [AND THIS IS WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING SO FAR] but Jerome is still refusing but he eventually manages to pull him away (Harvey replaces him to apply pressure) While they're driving to the precinct Jim awkwardly tries to reassure him that Jonathan will be okay, the operation to help him rarely has complications. Jerome doesn't respond and Jim just... politely pretends he doesn't hear Jerome biting back sobs.

They keep Jerome in one of the interrogation rooms while Jim ya know washes all this blood off himself (Jerome is still covered in it) I haven't thought much about this portion of the fic, it's moreso time filler for until Jonathan gets out of surgery. Probably just gonna be Jerome refusing to talk to anyone until he can see Jonathan. Eventually Jim gets a call from Harvey that Jonathan is out of surgery, stable, and just waking from anesthesia so it would be the perfect time to interrogate him and Jim reluctantly agrees.

Jim, though, does have a heart and informs Jerome of the news and he immediately flips and demands to see him but Jim keeps refusing until Jerome yells "I'll stay in Arkham peacefully for the rest of my life if I can just get some time with him!" Jim reluctantly agrees (and helps clean him up bc they're not gonna bring him in covered in blood)

When they arrive Harvey has already been questioning him for a bit but it hasn't gone far bc Jon is still loopy and very good at avoiding questions. The moment he sees Jerome he tries to get out of bed except he's been quite literally strapped down to it so that doesn't go well. Harvey steps back and lets Jerome sit by Jon

We get very soft times from the pov of the awkward observers. Rome holds Jon's hand, occasionally strokes his face and hair and kisses his cheek while they're quietly talking and it's all very sweet and so incredibly uncharacteristic from what they're used to seeing from. well. maniacs.

As Jon really starts to get more lucid it's clear he's not comfortable being strapped down at all, he's constantly testing the straps and squirming and Jerome starts to unstrap him but Jim is quick to protest, saying he has to stay in bed and they can't risk him trying to escape while injured and Jerome snaps "he's not going to escape! he's going to stay and cooperate. He just doesn't like the straps. They did that to him in Arkham." Jim lets Jerome finish unstrapping him. they talk quietly some more for a bit before Harvey interrupts like "hey we really got to uh. talk and shit." and they both agree so the four of them sit there and after a moment of silence Jerome goes

"I'll agree to go to Arkham and stay if Jonathan can be pardoned. Blame it on temporary insanity-- something. Anything to keep him from going back there. He can function in society-- he can." Jonathan reluctantly nods and agrees

"Arkham tried giving me a medication. it quieted the Scarecrow. made it easier to ignore his suggestions and the urges he would give me. I refused to take them... But I'll take them now. If I can visit Jerome in Arkham."

Jim and Harvey of course initially protest but Rome and Jon make a really good argument. It's clear the arrangement was something they'd talked about before, but was still painful to enact. They clung to each other's hands, shaking. They didn't like the idea of being seperated. Being together kept them sane but Jerome refused to have Jonathan go back to Arkham. it had been a long argument and a lot of convincing before Jonathan agreed to the plan of Jerome going to Arkham alone.

So.... it happens. There's an actual trial this time (bc Negotiations) Jonathan is still too hurt to attend in person so lawyer in his stead and such. Jonathan watches the news with tears in his eyes in his hospital room as they get everything they planned. As Jerome gets carted off past a jeering crowd into an Arkham inmate transfer van.

I don't have much past this point. I imagine part of the deal has Jonathan being some sort of city/state ward for awhile? he's technically an adult but he'd been in basically prison since 15, so he has help getting set back up. I imagine a filler chapter of a Very Mundane Day of Jonathan's life.

Wakes up in his shitty little apartment. takes his morning meds. has a shitty poptart breakfast (he never really liked them until Jerome introduced him to the cookies and cream flavor) Goes to some classes (he's learning psychology...) where he pretends to be a normal person. Works after school (he's a library assistant.) Gets home and ponders if he needs glasses (glasses jonathan supremacy.) Has a shitty dinner while he emails his court ordered therapist that yes he is doing perfectly fine (that's a lie) no he doesn't need to see him this week, that panicked email in the middle of the night was absolutely nothing. Takes his night meds. Does homework or studies until he passes out. Rinse and Repeat until Saturday.

Saturday is his one good day. That's his Jerome day. His therapist notes an immediate uptick in his mood on Saturdays for approximately 4 days until it rapidly drops to concerning levels. Seeing Jerome sort of... Resets him. Cant quite say happy, how can you be happy when you can only see the love of your life your boyfriend for two hours once a week? For a long time they weren't allowed to touch, Jerome was handcuffed to the table. Now they hold hands his entire visit and sit close enough to whisper to each other softly, and they try to sneak kisses when the guard looks away for a moment.

Jerome's therapist notes his mood stabilizes on Fridays and lasts until Tuesday, in which he returns to the expected maniacal behavior.

....

okay I have more I want to write about this but I have to start getting ready for work so :( please enjoy this <3

[yikesharringrove]

Changing the theme a bit, since I saw you dont hate Jonathan thank goddd, maybe Jonathan having to ask Steve and Billy for tips because he's aro or ace? Or something he knows Lonnie wouldve actually killed him for, which Billy gets and Steve is fully willing to help soft Jonathon be a THING and they are just his gay mentors and mayhaps. Nancy just doesnt get it and it gets messy and Will just stands up for his brother in full anger and slams the door in her face and hugs jon so tight he falls

Steve is sex-positive ace, Billy is sex-repulsed, and Jon is greyace bc I’ve gotten so many messages about how many people were affected positively by showing ace diversity in that one drabble I wrote, so we’re keeping this goin’ because you’re ALL VALID. 😤

-

Jonathan had been crashing on their couch for a week and a half and has yet to say anything about the situation more than Nancy and I had a fight.

Billy and Steve didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. Jonathan was obviously fucking heartbroken over whatever the fight had been about, but they didn’t wanna pry.

“Thank you guys for taking me in. I’m sorry, I’ve probably been cramping your style.” Steve just shook his head, serving three plates of eggs and toast.

“There’s not a lot of style going on in this apartment for you to cramp.” Steve smiled at him as he placed the plates on the table. Jonathan gave him an odd look.

“What do you, what do you mean?”

“We don’t really fuck.” Billy was always the blunt one. Jonathan’s fork clattered to the table.

“You don’t, why not?”

“Neither of us are really into it.” Jonathan looked like he could fucking cry.

“Me neither. That’s what the fight was. Nancy kept asking why we don’t have sex, and if I stopped loving her, and I do! I love her so much, but I just, sometimes I feel that way about her, but I usually don’t, and I’m so fucking confused.” Steve reached out, placing a firm hand on Jonathan’s arm.

“Jon, it’s okay. I mean, I don’t think we’ve had sex in like, a year?” Billy nodded.

“It was before we actually talked about how we both felt about it.”

“And is that-” Jonathan trailed off, but they got it. Is that like me.

“I don’t mind sex. If I’m with someone who wants to have it, I can be cool with that, but I don’t always get off, and it’s more about making the other person feel good, or using it as another way to be like, intimate. But I don’t really think about it, and I can definitely go without.”

“I actively don’t like fucking. I kinda think sex is, is fucking gross. I mean, you do you and all that, but like, every time I had sex it just, it made me feel gross.” He pulled a face.

“I just, I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel for her, honestly.” Jonathan ran a hand down his face. “Sometimes, sometimes it just feels like a fucking chore. And she just, she kinda confronted me about it, and I probably could’ve worded it better, but she got so angry, and hurt, and we just, we decided to take some time apart.” He pushed the eggs around his plate. “And there are some situations that I just, I want it with her so badly, but most, most of the time I just, I just want to be with her, like just spend time with her. And she, she’s never been very good at being sensitive about things, or, or, sympathetic, and she just, she made me feel fucking broken. Like there was something wrong with me.”

“First of all, fuck her for making you feel like that.” Billy had one eyebrow raised.

“Bill-”

“No. Jonathan, you are not broken, and it sucks she made you feel that way. If she can’t be in a relationship that respects your boundaries, then she is not the one.”

Steve sighed.

“Jon, Bill’s right. A relationship should be safe. She should be more mindful of your boundaries and feelings, and should not be making you feel bad for those things. I’m not saying you should like, dump her-”

“I am.” Steve batted a hand at Billy.

“-but, if you have an open conversation with her, and nothing changes, then you are always welcome here.” Steve squeezed his arm again.

-

The talk with Nancy had been bad.

She had taken everything really personally, said that Jonathan needed to sort out his priorities and to let her know when he’s attracted to her again.

And he tried, he tried so hard to explain the way he felt, that it all comes and goes like the fucking tide, but she had put her foot down.

So he showed up back to Billy and Steve’s apartment with two more suitcases and tears in his eyes.

“I just, I know I can fake it when I need to, I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“Because forcing yourself to do shit like that sucks. Fuck Nancy for being a bitch. Figure yourself out, and then find someone who respects your boundaries.”

Billy was pacing in front of the sofa, talking sharply, pointing at Jonathan a lot. Steve had one arm over his shoulders.

“You deserve respect, Jon. And you deserve to feel safe and happy in a relationship.”.

-

He couldn’t sleep that first night.

The fight was circling in his head, over and over and over and over-

He heard the bedroom door open, and someone creep out through the living room and into the kitchen.

He looked over the back of the couch, saw a bleary eyed Steve filling a glass of water for himself, wearing one of Billy’s faded band shirts, and a pair of panties.

Jonathan laid back down before Steve could see him looking.

-

The next morning, he found himself staring at Steve.

He had put shorts on, and even a chunky cardigan while he made breakfast, but Jonathan knew.

“Can I, can I talk to you about something?” Steve smiled brightly at him. “I, um, I noticed you coming out here last night.” Steve just nodded, a look of recognition in his eyes.

“You wondering about panties?”

“Um, yeah.” Steve shrugged. “I just like ‘em. And it’s not like, a sexual thing. Sometimes they make me feel sexy, but that’s not what it’s about. I just like them. Have a lot of women’s thing.”

“What about them do you like?” Steve shrugged again.

“It’s hard to describe. I’ve never felt like, super masculine. Like, big macho tough guy, I wanna hunt and never talk about my feelings.” Steve put on a stupid-sounding deep voice for his macho man. “And I mean, not all men are like that, but that’s kind of how you’re expected to be. And women are expected to be pretty and delicate, and I’ve always related to that more. Women’s clothes help me feel that way.”

“I’ve, um, I’ve always felt that too. Not necessarily the kinda, pretty and delicate part, but the, not feeling connected to masculinity and like, what’s expected from you.” Steve set down a plate of eggs and bacon in front of Jonathan, putting one down for himself as well, and one in Billy’s empty space.

“Hold that thought, I’m gonna grab Billy. He doesn’t like it when I yell for him.” Steve patted him on the arm, and was gone for a few minutes before he returned with Billy in tow.  “Okay, Jonathan. Please continue.”

“Well, not much to say. I feel like my dad kinda always shoved that like, macho man shit on me. Would take me hunting and stuff and I just never liked it.”

“Jesus, mine did that shit too. Not with hunting, but he was all about men having their place, and women having their place.” Billy took an aggressive bite of his bacon.

“Mine was too! I got sad once when I shot a rabbit, and he called me a pussy for like, a week.”

“When my dad was layin’ into me, if he ever saw my cry, it would just get that much worse.” They were nodding at one another, trading shitty dad stories back and forth. “He would like, get mad if I helped my mom cook and shit, too.”

“God, it’s like we had the fuckin’ same dad.” Billy raised his mug at Jonathan. “It’s hard to break outta that shit, even though he’s not in your life, anymore.”

“I think so, too. I haven;t seen him in years, but every time I do something he would’ve thought was too soft, I can still hear him in my head. And you know, that’s one of the things I like about Nancy. She’s really hard, and tough, and never expected me to be that way.” And he knows that in the end, Nancy was bad news for him, not being able to love and accept him, but that aspect of their relationship was so nice, so easy.

“There doesn’t always have to be both. I mean, Steve’s more outwardly soft, but we’re both real mushy at our cores. There doesn’t have to be a big tough one and a sweet soft one. Sometimes you have elements of both and you make it work.”

“You just have to find the balance within yourself, I think. And learn to embrace the parts of you that are soft and the parts that are hard.” Jonathan was nodding vigorously at Steve. “And it’s always different. I love getting to feel soft and pretty in a dress or something, whereas Billy finds ways to be soft by taking care of things, like me and all the plants.”

“Do you think, do you think you could help me? Find that, I mean.”

“Of course! Just think of the things you already feel, things that feel right when you do them, and that’s a good starting point. And maybe that’s your photography, and maybe it’s something else.”

So they let Jonathan experiment with things to find his softness.

He would help Billy tend to the fucking garden they had on the balcony, or bake with Steve. He took a million pictures, and Steve was thriving under the camera, would put on make up and something pretty and pose around the apartment.

It was just nice.

Getting to live with these two, and train himself not to be ashamed, it was nice.

Will would come and visit quite often, and he and Jonathan spent a wonderful Saturday evening coming out to each other, and validating the ever loving shit out of one another.

Billy and Steve came home to the two brothers hugging one another on the couch and trying to hold back tears.

Steve had inserted himself into the hug while Billy patted each one of them on the head and started making dinner.

But he figured of course this would happen.

His perfect little cocoon would crumble apart at some point.

Will had come over, and Steve and Billy had gone out to dinner together, leaving the two of them to order pizza and have a movie night.

It was great, hanging out with his brother like when they were little, not a fucking care in the world.

There was a knock at the door.

“Jon, it’s me. It’s Nancy. Can we talk” Jonathan’s heart stuttered to a halt in his chest.

Will was staring at the door like maybe he could set it on fire if he glared hard enough.

Jonathan sighed, opening the door to face his fate.

“Are you seriously still mad at me?”

“Yes.” She huffed.

“C’mon. Come back home.”

“Nancy, I can’t. Not if you’re not going to respect me.”

“We were fine. I don’t know why we can’t just go back to the way we were-”

“Because I was forcing myself to do things I was uncomfortable with just to make you happy.”

“Relationships are compromise, Jonathan.”

“I know that, but when I brought up to you what wasn’t working, you refused to listen. I was the only one forfeiting my boundaries and comfort in that relationship, and I deserve more.” She rolled her eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Jonathan, this is-” Will was shoving Jonathan back, stepping between the two.

“Nancy, he’s done talking to you about this. Unless you can respect that he doesn’t always feel that way, then move the fuck on.” He slammed the door right in her face. “You don’t need her.”

Jonathan was gobsmacked. Will had never spoken to anyone like that, at least not that Jonathan’s every seen.

“Why did you...?” He trailed off, still staring at the door.

“She was pissing me off. You’re right. You compromised everything in that relationship and she couldn’t even give you the bare minimum.”

Jonathan swept Will up, hugging him as tight as he possibly could.

“Thank you.”

“You deserve better than her.”

“Yeah, I do.”

[winterrose527]

I’m voting early tomorrow in Texas bc it’s my birthday and I wanna give my vote an extra oomph. I’m gonna wear blue since can’t wear specific political stuff and go with my friend.

I’d like something with a supernatural element for Myrcella and Robb, please. Maybe a ghost story.

Oh my goodness, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DARLING! So so happy you were born, and so happy that you are taking the opportunity to do that most important thing - vote!

Here you go, it may be a bit different than you were expecting...

Only Sansa Stark could make enough friends in a week and a half to fill the entire bottom floor, and part of the grounds, of their new home.

Home.

Robb looked around the grand room he was in, completely with coffered ceilings and marble pillars. It didn’t look like any home he was used to. Their home up North had been large but well… homey. It had been full of wood and old photographs and at least one fireplace was going at any given time. 

The kids had been overwhelmed when their parents showed them this place, with the pool and the tennis courts and the all of it. Sansa had nearly fainted when his parents showed her the suite she’d call her own, complete with the dressing room and a separate sitting room.

It was far too King’s Landing for him though. He didn’t care about more room for his clothes, especially because none of the ones he wore up North were usable now. 

It was Halloween and it was warm. Really warm. 

Up North, Sansa would always complain that having to wear a coat over her costume or layers underneath ruined the effect. Tonight though, she’d worn her toga and sandals and headdress and looked every inch a queen - no parka in sight.

She’d had the idea to throw a party last weekend and their parents, so grateful that one of their children was adjusting, had readily agreed. He hadn’t paid much attention to the details, too focused on his college applications and football practice, so when he’d come downstairs this afternoon and saw a giant cauldron on the lawn being filled by uniformed waiters with water and apples it had been his first indication that the party was going to be more than a few friends.

He recognized some people as he walked through. There were people dressed as weirwolves, and minions, and nurses. One girl dressed as a bubble bath, which was far more endearing than the countless girls dressed as cats. He nodded at a guy from his football team who was dancing with a girl in his homeroom, the pair of them dressed up as characters from some show everyone was watching.

Sansa was somewhere, the belle of the ball. She fit in better down here than any of his other siblings, better than him. Though, she actually tried to when the rest of them were focused on getting back North to their real lives.

He tried not to be a grouch about it, to set a good example, but this was his senior year. He was supposed to finish it with Theon and Jon, get their last championship and do Senior Prank Day and Senior Skip Day and Prom with all the people he’d been going to school with since Kindergarten.

And he hated everyone in the south for not being them. 

He walked through the kitchen where a couple was making out against the fridge and down the hallway past his father’s study to the library. He rarely came in here, but he just needed a few minutes away from the music and the people to gather himself.

The light was on, which was weird because it had been made clear that everything past the kitchen was off-limits. He looked around warily, figuring that a couple had come in here to do more than make out.

“Oh!,” a surprised voice said. 

He turned towards the window, surprised he hadn’t seen her standing there before. She was a wisp of a thing, to be sure, but with her golden hair and sparkly dress she was hard to miss.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, adding in his head in my family’s private room. 

That wasn’t the sort of thing you said out loud to a girl who looked like her though.

“That’s alright,” she said and then smiled, as though they shared a private joke, “I suppose I’m the one that startled you.” 

There was something in her voice - money and honey but something else that he couldn’t really place.

“A good surprise,” he admitted and then scratched his cheek, “Though uh, I’ll admit you’re not really supposed to be in here.” 

The girl looked around the room and smirked, “Tell me about it.” 

“What?,” he asked.

At the same time though she said, “I’m Myrcella.” 

“Robb,” he waved awkwardly.

“It’s a pleasure to know you,” she smiled and he couldn’t help but smile back.

“I… haven’t seen you around,” he told her.

She looked to be a year or two younger than him, maybe Sansa’s class, so they wouldn’t have any classes together. Even still, he definitely would have remembered her if he’d seen her in passing. She looked prissy, and certainly spoke prissily, so it was possibly she went to a different private school in the area.

Sansa would have died over her costume. Like her, Myrcella had chosen a historical one. She was dressed as a flapper, but it didn’t look cheap the way the ones in the costume stores always did. He wondered vaguely if the dress had belonged to someone in her family. 

More acutely he was focused on the girl inside it.

She placed her hands behind her back and nodded, looking out the window, “I don’t come out very much.”

“Why not?,” he wondered, “Too shy?”

She looked at him and bit her lip, “Something like that.” 

“Well I can leave you…,” he started, hoping she’d say no. 

She shook her head, “It’s nice to talk to someone.”

He nodded and went towards her. She looked at him like he was a hunter, so he tried to appear as non-threatening as possible when he sat on the couch. 

She sat in one of the arm chairs, crossing her legs at the ankles. Her skin was practically shimmering under the overhead light. 

“So how’d you know to come over here?,” he wondered. 

She looked at him and said, “Want to know a secret?” 

“Yes,” he agreed readily.

“I used to live here,” she told him. 

“Oh!,” he exclaimed. “That’s… that must be strange to be back here then.”

She smiled, “Truth be told, it feels like I never left.” They could hear the music getting louder and she closed her eyes, “It’s just splendid that there are parties here again.”

He wondered when she’d lived here. Maybe as a little girl. It was unusual for people to move out of their family homes, unless there had been a tragedy. Death, debt, or divorce. 

He looked at her, really looked. Even with the golden hair and the perfect cheek bones and the sparkling eyes, it was clear. This was a girl that had seen a tragedy or two. 

“Wha-,” he started to ask but then he heard a loud crash. “Fuck - sorry, I um… I have to go see what that was… can you… will you be here…will you stay?” 

She smiled sadly, “Oh, at least for a little while.” 

He nodded and got up. He should ask for her number, just in case, but that crash sounded bad. He waved at her and ran out. 

The crash was bad. There were two guys fighting in the front hall and they’d knocked over an antique vase. More people had crowded in. 

It was a half hour before he’d been able to fully break it up, and by that time people had gotten a little out of hand. He and Sansa decided it was time for the party to be over, so they ushered everyone out the door. 

By the time the last person had left it was after midnight. He ran to the library but found it empty, and cold.

Disappointed, he went up to bed and called Jon. He and Theon were at a party and they put him on speaker phone so that the whole party could say hi. When he hung up he turned out the light, wanting to fall asleep quickly, and sleep through the rest of the year.

That night though he had the strangest dream. Myrcella was there, dressed just as she had been that night, but everyone else was dressed like her too. There was something he had to tell her. Urgently. Like his life depended on it - or hers did. He kept getting close to her and then she’d slip away. And then there was a bang! and he woke up.

He padded downstairs to the kitchen and saw Arya sitting at the island eating cereal and his Mom unloading the dishwasher.

“Mornin’,” he grumbled. 

“Our hero,” Arya cooed at him.

His Mom looked over at him, “Morning baby, thank you for keeping things from getting too out of hand.”

He shrugged, getting himself a mug for coffee, “Sorry about the vase.” 

He sat down next to Arya and sipped his coffee, picking a piece of cereal out of her bowl. She slapped his arm but nudged her bowl closer to him anyway. 

“So,” his Mom said, “Did you manage to have any fun at all?”

To his surprise he nodded. His mom looked at him in surprise and he said, “I met a girl.”

“Ooooooh,” Arya teased, making kissy faces. 

He clamped his hand over her mouth and looked at his Mom’s happy face and explained, “She used to live here.” 

At that his Mom’s face fell into a look of confusion, “Robb this house was vacant when we bought it. Had been for… oh say…. thirty years? The last owner didn’t have any children, and it had been his since…I think the twenties…Are you sure that’s what she said? Could she have meant in King’s Landing?”

He thought about it and nodded, “I…I guess she could have? I haven’t seen her around. You’re sure about the previous owners?”

She nodded, “Yes, it was a Mr. Baelish who owned it. A bachelor til the end… there’s some things of the house’s past owners still in the library… we’ve hardly moved anything… so you can check but I’m almost positive.” 

“Okay,” he shrugged, “I’m going to go for a run.” 

He went upstairs and got changed into shorts and a t shirt and pulled on his sneakers and grabbed his head phones. He was going to take a run in the woods, there was a path that he liked, so he went down the back staircase. 

He was about to walk out the door when he saw that the door to the library was open.

Usually he wasn’t so curious, but it was a bit strange. She’d made it seem like she’d lived here. Not in King’s Landing. In this very house.

He walked inside and started looking on the book shelves. Mostly it was musty copies of old books, their gilded letters starting to fade. 

He was about to give up when his hand, seemingly on its own, found its way to a leather bound album. He felt a chill go down his spine when he touched it, which was ridiculous. He was just creeping himself out. 

He grabbed it off the shelf and sat down on the couch and opened it to the first page. 

The Baratheon Family, 1921 - it said on the first page. It wasn’t printed, the way their family albums sometimes were, but written in an elegant, almost lazy scrawl. 

He opened the first page and saw the house. Even in sepia tone it was still the same. He turned the page and saw a large brown haired man standing with a smaller one. The larger man was smiling but the smaller man was smirking. 

The person had written, Daddy and Mr. Baelish. 

On the next page was an elegant woman, that looked somehow familiar. She was beautiful but scowling. 

Mumsie, Summer 1921. 

He turned the next page and saw two blonde haired boys, the oldest only a year or so older than him. 

Underneath this photograph the same person had scrawled. Tommy and Joff, Summer 1921.

He turned the next page and his heart stopped. It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be possible. 

But there, looking back at him was Myrcella. She was dressed similarly to how she’d been last night, an effervescent smile on her face.

Underneath it the person had written, Me, me as bright as can be!, Summer 1921

He looked through the rest of the album. She was there a number of times, with the boy named Tommy, and the dour woman. A picture of a whole lot of them, other golden haired dandies and powerful men. Mr. Baelish, with that same smirk.

He was starting to feel lightheaded, but it didn’t make sense. None of it made sense.

In spite of his better judgment, he pulled out his phone and typed Myrcella Baratheon into the search. There were listings for a couple of numbers and he kept scrolling and then came across the following headlines. 

Violence Strikes King’s Landing

The Tragedy of Myrcella Baratheon

Bootlegging Scheme gone wrong, daughter pays the price 

He clicked on that one and read the story. It appeared that Robert Baratheon ran a successful bootlegging operation, and a man named Petyr Baelish had been part of his crew. There was a sting operation, Baelish had cooperated with the feds to catch Robert and his sons and wife, who were all part of it. Myrcella Baratheon was meant to be out of the house, attending a party with the man whom everyone was convinced would soon be her fiance, Trystane Martell, but she heard shouting as she was about to leave and ran into library. She spooked someone, though the article did not say who, and was shot three times in the chest. 

He clicked out of that article and into the one titled The Tragedy of Myrcella Baratheon. The story was written by a teetotaler, who was using Myrcella as an example of how innocent lives were being ruined by drink.

In spite of his better judgment, he said to the room, “Myrcella?”

Unsurprisingly, no one answered. He went back to the first article and his blood ran cold. 

It was dated November 1, 1921. She had died on Halloween night, nearly a hundred years before.

He placed the album down on the couch and as if on its own it felt to the last page. There was no picture, just the elegant scrawl.

See you next year. 

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: all the guys want cheerleaders; jon moxley

Notes:

So... I think that arguably, my favorite universe/pairing to write is Jon Moxley and my OC Jane. Apparently so because I have like 5+ universes just for them and counting. I’m seriously tempted to definitely sit down and like... plan out an actual fic bc this is getting outrageous lmao. Anyway, here’s another thing. This is a teenage!jon and jane. So this is one of those inflexible / non changeable parts, btw.

{ wanna send in one of these? here’s how | masterlist of fake fic titles  }

Summary:

Jon decides to surprise Jane by coming home just to take her to some stupid dance. And surprise her, he does. Fluffy af. I mean.. In Mox’s typical way of being fluffy.

Pairing:

Jon Moxley x OFC, Jane

Warnings:

Uhhh... fluffy surprises.

“Everything looks like shit on me. That’s it, I’m not going to this fucking dance.” Jane threw down the fourth dress and stared at herself in the mirror, shaking her head. She was only even going to this stupid thing because her grandmother was making a big deal about her going.

It wasn’t like she wanted to go. The guy she’d rather go to prom with was gone, he left town to go off and become some kind of famous wrestler or something. His own words.

As if on cue, the phone rang and Jane grabbed for it. Mox promised he’d call her the second he got where he was going. “Well, dickhead?”

“Hey to you too, Janey.” blue eyes darted around the bar and when the guys got too loud, Mox gave them all a silencing glare. It only got him teased by Callihan and Cole, but Mox ignored the two jackasses and turned away, busying himself by doodling on a napkin. “Ya find a dress?”

“I’m not goin to that stupid prom.”

“Janey, c’mon. Ya promised ya grandma.”

“I know, I know.. I just.. I don’t wanna. Besides, I look like shit in all the dresses she picked up for me to try. Besides, I asked that dumbass in my Bio class if he’d take me as a friend. Turns out he’s already goin with someone. Or I’m ugly as fuck and he’s just too polite to point it out. Or he’s lyin and…”  Janey trailed off, rolling onto her back on the bed and Mox sighed on the other end of the line.

“First of all, ya not ugly. Second, ya don’t have t’ go with somebody to go.” Mox calmly pointed out. He grabbed the beer Callihan bought over to him and took a long sip, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he finished. “Ya grandma just wants ya to have a good time. She’s tryin to cheer you up.”

… just tell her already, damn…

He was hell bent on not ruining the surprise though. He knew how much Jane really wanted to go to prom and thanks to peeking in her journal when he stopped by to see her before he left town, he knew exactly why she was digging her heels in about going.

Apparently, she only wanted to go with him. But she’d never admit it, she’d never admit a lot of things she wrote about him in her journal and those things… They were another huge reason he was out of Ohio and trying to make a name for himself. He wanted to be the best he could be, for her. He wanted to be able to give her everything he thought she deserved, despite knowing that she’d be fine with just being with him.

He wanted to give her so much more.

Jane eyed the phone and bit her lip. “ I don’t wanna go, okay? Why’s it so important I go, huh? It’s gonna be lame.”

“If you don’t go, ya gonna look back and regret it.”

“Or maybe I won’t, Mox.”

Mox took a deep breath, trying to keep from telling her exactly why he wanted her to go so badly. If she didn’t go, then he couldn’t show up in the stupid damned tuxedo. He couldn’t give her the necklace he’d bought for her.

… but if she doesn’t wanna go, maybe you could surprise her at home… take her out somewhere real nice… ya gonna have plenty of money, man… and the thought had him taking a deep breath.

“Maybe ya won’t. If ya don’t wanna go, don’t. I gotta ask ya somethin, okay?”

Jane raised a brow and rolled over onto her stomach, propping on her elbow. She tried to picture him, all sweaty and probably bloody, probably fresh from a fight.. She found herself wondering if he was wearing the sleeveless vest, or if he’d just fought in jeans tonight. She found herself wishing that she wasn’t stuck in stupid Ohio, doing what she promised him she’d do. She didn’t get why it was so important she stayed, she could’ve easily finished high school wherever he wound up. It would’ve been their big adventure, just like they always talked about. She could’ve gotten by on her photography and worked as a waitress too.

She just missed him.

She hadn’t seen him in over a month and she was afraid it was going to be like her parents all over again.. One day, she’d try to call their face to memory and realize she couldn’t anymore. The thought had her eyes stinging with tears and she wiped at her eyes, scowling about it.

She just didn’t want to forget him or lose him too and now that he was gone, despite him diligently keeping in touch, she was so afraid that very thing was going to happen.

“Ya there, Janey?”

“Yeah. I was just thinkin.. Ask away.” Jane sat up and took a deep breath or two. This happened, it was a fact of life. Sooner or later, she reminded herself, even the best of friends drifted away from each other. It sucked and it was sad, but it was true.

And she was most likely going to lose him before she ever got to tell him just how special he was to her and how much she loved him, faults and all.

“Ya trust me?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question, Mox. You know I trust you. Probably one hell of a lot more than I trust anyone else.” Jane answered quickly, wondering what made him ask that.

“I need ya to go to our place. Saturday.”

“But you were saying a minute ago you wanted me to go to the stupid fucking prom too.. What do you want me to do, Mox…” Jane trailed off and he chuckled. “You said ya didn’t wanna go to prom. So, I thought maybe if ya went somewhere you were comfortable instead, might make ya feel better.”

… it’s only gonna remind me you’re not here, but okay.. Jane almost said it aloud, but she didn’t dare. Instead, she agreed to go to their spot on Saturday night at 6. And given that her grandma had already given her a ‘free pass’ for the night, Jane decided that maybe she could just get ready like she planned to go to prom, go to their little spot down by the docks and change somewhere in a bathroom. Why Mox wanted her to go, she had no idea, but it certainly seemed urgent.

( SATURDAY NIGHT )

“Okay, grandma. I’m heading out.”

“Wait, I want to get a picture of you, sweetie.”

Jane tapped her foot against the floor but she smiled, nodded and let her grandmother get a picture of her. She felt guilty for not just telling the woman she wasn’t going to prom, but she was going to wander around the docks, she knew it wouldn’t matter but her grandma would worry the entire time, but she also knew that she might disappoint the older woman.

That was the last thing Jane wanted to ever do was to disappoint her grandma.

After her grandma got another picture or two and hugged her, Jane set out, walking quickly, cursing the stupid heels and the wind and the fact that the stupid dress didn’t have any sleeves at all and herself for not bringing a jacket.

She hadn’t even been able to grab a change of clothing, her grandmother had wanted to hover close, to reminisce about her own prom and how her grandpa saved her from the unwanted advances of some “uppity jock guy” that night. And Jane, well.. She’d had fun listening to the woman’s stories, and letting her grandma do something. They’d been talking and her grandmother admitted that it wasn’t so much wanting her to go to prom, but wanting her not to stop living just because that “sweet boy two doors down” was gone. Her grandmother had apparently been worried about her as of late, because she hadn’t been as bright or as happy as she had been before Mox left.

Jane stopped to lean against a factory and leaned down, taking off the stupid heels, glaring at them as she rubbed her foot.

It was almost 8 now and she was within sight of the docks.

Someone was standing there, their back facing her.

In a suit.

They weren’t so much standing there still as they were pacing a little. Jane almost just turned and left whoever it was to their pacing, but then, the pacing man turned to face her and when she saw him, she didn’t think or bother censoring herself, she just started to run right for him, flinging herself at him as soon as she reached him. Mox wrapped his arms around her, easily lifting her off her bare feet, breathing in the scent of her shampoo because God knew he’d missed it the entire time he’d been away.

“Mox? Is this why you kept tryin to make me go to prom?”

All Mox could do was shrug and stare at her. “Fuck..”

“What’s wrong?” Jane cocked her head to the side, looking up at her friend. Mox blurted it out before he could stop himself.

“Always thought ya were beautiful but goddamn..” he mumbled quietly, rubbing the back of his head as he stared down at her.

Jane almost laughed, thinking he was just kidding her, but the look in his eyes stopped her in her tracks. He dug around in the pockets of the stupid suit, swearing, almost panicking when he thought he might have left the box with the necklace inside on the bus he’d gotten off of earlier, but finally, he found it and pulled it out.

“I got ya somethin.”

“Jon…”

“Shh.. There’s somethin I been wanting to say. If I don’t say it now, I won’t.” Mox was doing it again, the pacing and mumbling thing he tended to do when angry or nervous. Jane reached out, stepping in front of him and stopping him where he stood. “Say it then, Mox. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I love ya. I love ya so goddamn much and goin away, it wasn’t cos I wanted t’ leave ya, ya gotta know that. It was cos one day, I wanted to… I bought ya this. I saw it and I remembered how upset ya were when ya lost the one like it ya mom gave ya.” he held out the box and Jane opened it, staring at the rose gold heart shaped locket that was almost identical to the one her mom always wore when she was alive. She wiped at her eyes and for a second, his face fell.

Why was she about to cry?

“I fucked up.”

“No, no. No. This is.. It’s perfect and it’s beautiful and I..”

Words were failing her at the moment, so she rose to tiptoe, tugging at the tie that he hadn’t even tied right, pulling his mouth down to her own, pulling him into as deep a kiss as she could. Mox deepened it even more, gripping at her lower back, holding her up as best as he could.

“Ya what?”

“I love you too. I always have.”

“I was gonna take ya to that one real fancy restaurant.. If ya hungry?” Mox broke the kiss to ask and Jane gave a soft laugh, nodding.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Time After Time (The Eighties Blasts Collection, Part 1.)

Description: Jim Hopper died as a hero. But with that, one certain problem rises up - who will now lead the cops of Hawkins? Hopper thought of that - he decided to write a letter, naming his niece, nineteen-year-old student of Indianapolis police academy, Y/N Hopper as a sheriff deputy in a letter. But anybody in the town doesn't have a clue that being a cop in Hawkins is way more dangerous than it might seem.

NOTICE: This is an AU where Hopper had a brother which he doesn’t talk to, but still has a great relationship with his niece (more like father-daughter relationship). Nothing else would be changed.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader (eventually) - the story is more driven by the relationships in the gang.

A/N: Every chapter will probably be named after one ICONIC 80s song because I am trash for them. Also, I will call Johnathan John bcs I am sick of writing such a long name over and over again.

Warnings: Grief, losing a loved one, bad family background for the reader, Will, Johnathan and Joyce leaving Hawkins.

Word count: 3.7 K (Sorry guys, I had fun)

Tagging: x

Master list: The Eighties Blast Collection

Try to ask your parents about living in the '80s. Or no, you don't have to ask them at all - they would definitely tell you that it was way easier, better and safer back then. Maybe they would be right if you don't remind them about Doug Clark and Carol Bundy for example. Serial killers aren't such things in our age.

But there was one particular town in Indiana where it wasn't exactly a pleasure to live during the '80s. There was like... Everything from novels and movies had happened there - strange disappearances of children, mutates crawling from another dimension, possessed shirtless white boy with a mullet running around, kidnapping people and basically killing the; even murders bated by U.S. government and experiments on people.

It was a true science-fiction to say at least. 

What was the town’s name? Hawkins. Hawkins, Indiana with a population of thirty thousand people - may be more or less, nobody exactly knew since such a crazy shit was happening out there.

Your beloved uncle Jim, to which you went every holiday for the whole two months, has lived there since forever, except for his rather short time in New York - and you found your way to love the city as well. The people there were always the same - same shopkeepers, same employees in the restaurants, same stores and groceries. You dreamt about working alongside Jim since you were just a little kid. While other girls wanted to be princesses and astronauts, you just wanted to be a cop.

So it hit you when you were in your room at the police academy, listening to George Michael and read a magazine, laying down on the bed. At your nineteen, you were one of the best cadets that ever got into the police academy before reaching the age of 21. Jim was so proud that he cried when you called him.

But when the sergeant who led your training called your name through the silent halls, you knew that something had to happen. And when you sat down behind the desk, looking her in the face, you knew it isn't anything nice. 

And when she told you, oh boy, you couldn't but chuckle unbelievably. No, you weren't happy or amused with what sergeant Brown told you - but you couldn't believe it. 

“Jim Hopper is dead? Is it... For sure? That must be a mistake. You're shitting me right now.” - You told her, not even caring about the rule not to curse around your authorities. And Mrs. Brown fully understood what you're going through at the moment, so she didn't say a word about that. Your breath stuck in your throat as you got up to walk around the room. 

“Miss Hopper, I can tell you for certain that I am not joking.” - The woman on the opposite side of the table looked you in the eyes. - “I am sorry for your loss, yet Mrs. Byers sent us an official document where Jim Hopper named you his deputy sheriff, signed and stamped two weeks ago.” - She took the document out of the envelope and looked you in the eyes, putting it in front of himself so she could read from it.

“But I’m too young to be a deputy.” - You mumbled and took the document seriously naming you to the function into your fingers, reading it word after word. Jim was looking forward to having you by his side as a cop - so when he learned about the Russians in a facility below Star Court, he wrote two letters and one document - one for Eleven, a girl who he adopted and you liked, one letter addressed to you and a document naming you the deputy, so he was sure that the Hawkins city is in good hands when he's gone. You never saw the letter though. 

Only the official document made it. 

“And we do acknowledge that. You're too young, you haven't even finished your studies, Miss Hopper, this is a rather unpleasant and special situation. And for that, we will transfer you to an academy nearby Hawkins, so you can finish your training there while you will be helping at the police department.” - Mrs. Brown smiled at you a bit. - “We also acknowledge that you loved your uncle and to continue with his legacy means everything to you. Hawkins department is out of policemen anyway.” 

---

So it was done. Your grief over Jim was deep and it took too long for you to acknowledge that he won’t come to his cabin hidden in the woods a small while from the big oak next to the road to Denfield, just fifteen minutes away from Hawkins. 

When you told the locals about the cabin, it was in a horrendous state - the windows were missing, there were holes in the ceiling, the door were broken apart and... It was a hellhole. It needed a lot of repairing and almost everything was broken inside, including almost all of the furniture, but you managed somehow. 

Especially the broken windows and broken ceiling would cost a fortune if there wasn't for the good people of Hawkins who collected money and old, non-used things from their homes. They started one month before you came so it was almost done when you were about to roll into the town - but you could do the rest by yourself.

You let Hopper's old armchair just in the place where it always was, in his trail, and you left El’s room untouched as well, you only cleaned it up. People from the town were helping you with the renovations by all kinds of small gifts, ranging from canned and normal food to shampoo, helping you paint and paper it from the inside, giving you their old equipment like the TV or a refrigerator, even a VHS player. 

On the day when you came back to Hawkins in an old Chevy from the 70s’, with all your things packed in boxes stored in your car’s trunk, you immediately went to Joyce’s house. Joyce was something like your auntie - you, Nancy Wheeler, her son Jonathan and Steve Herrington always played by the woods she had behind their house. She always made you the best cupcakes, played with you, talked to you and when you were too caught up in playing, she called you to have lemonade or some snacks - but that was too long ago for you to even properly remember.

You remembered only small bits from your evenings at the Byers' house, but the feeling of Joyce is a nice, calm and sweet person always remained inside your head.

Once, all of you were only kids and you were in Hawkins only for two to three weeks every summer - so, naturally, your friendships with the old party didn't exactly last in the form it was ten years ago. All of you got into puberty and since you were studying the police academy, getting there after the senior year of your high school, you didn't really hear much about any of them. 

Plus, after you left Hawkins, you found yourself new friends in New York, so... It was no wonder, really. Everyone was just living their life the best way they could.

Although, when you heard that Joyce and her boys are you about to leave Hawkins for Maine, you tried to speed everything up only to tell her your goodbye before she actually goes away. When you got out of the car, 99 Luftballons by Nena practically screaming from Chevy's radio, you could only see a half-full moving truck and a load of kids out there. 

At least, you weren't that late, were you?

You could recall some of them - like Eleven, a girl living with Jim who you got to know the spring of 84’ when you got released for a weekend lasting holiday to celebrate Jim’s birthday. She was cool as fuck, having some kind of psionic abilities. Jim almost killed both of you when he found out that she had shown you some tricks, but you found that extremely cool. You two had built a pretty good and strong connection over the course of your visits at Hopper's.

You were able to recall Mike Wheeler and Will Byers as well since you knew their siblings - and these boys just couldn't be more similar to Jon and Nance. But there were a few kids you didn't have a single idea who they might be.

“I’m here to help. But I’m late, I guess.” - You leaned into the doorframe and smiled a bit at Joyce’s back. She was running around the whole house cluelessly and tried to pack while the others were doing the actual job. She looked at you standing there in an old flannel shirt and cool jeans which can be bought only in cities or big malls. You looked... Certainly not happy, tired, your eyes red from crying, but good and fine as hell. - “Guess you can say that I am a Hopper, right?” - You smiled as she walked to you to give you a tight, motherly hug, humming into your ear. 

“You are so big now. I remember you barely reaching my waist, darling.” - She cracked up a bit and you were almost sure that she is about to cry - and if she would, you would be a crying mess as well. You cried almost the whole way to Indiana. You just stopped yourself to cry again? Oh, boy. 

“That happens over time. Guess Jonathan isn't the smallest nor youngest now as well, huh?” - You joked, walking to one of the boxed in the hallway. Just with that, Jon accompanied by Nancy walked into the doorframe, holding another two boxes.

“Someone left a started truck outside and is playing pop blasts... Y/N?” - Jonathan asked unbelievably when you turned around to face him. He looked tired as hell just by the looks, but he still sorta got his rebellious expression, just as you were used to. And Nancy? She was breathtaking now. You almost jumped at both of them to hug them firmly with a giggle. 

The old party was getting back together. 

“I can't believe you're here!” - Nancy laughed to your ear. Both of them had the best childhood memories from the times you were there - like jamming to literally every ABBA or the Rolling Stones song, riding bikes through the neighborhood and just the best fourth of July festivals. - “Also, I'm so sorry about...” 

“I know, I know. It would be nice if you stop reminding me.” - You answered a bit louder than you plan to, so Nancy just shuts up. You were immediately apologizing, but she shook her head with her typical Wheeler smile. She totally got what you’re feeling at the moment, it wasn't even your fault really.

“Wow. I haven’t seen you since... Forever.” - Jonathan took your shoulder to his palm and smiled at you. - “I wish we could just sit down, have a cup of tea and talk about what is going on now.” - Nance agreed with him, leaving you in the hall with panicking Joyce; until another person came by.

“Is that... Is that you?” - A fourteen-year-old girl came there in an old shirt which you knew that belonged to Jim. You immediately softened when you saw the teenager, kneeling down and opening your arms for her. You closed your eyes as El leaned to you and hugged you tightly. 

“Yeah. I know.” - You mumbled into the crook of her neck quietly, letting her put her head on your shoulder as both your palms smoothed her back and her ponytail. She was such a baby girl since the day uncle Jim introduced the two of you. - “Listen up, baby. Let's get moving with the packing. You can introduce me to your friends and your boyfriend, sounds good?” - You got up, drying off her tears as you tried not to cry as well. You needed to make you both occupied.

“I would appreciate if you'd help the boys with Will’s room.” - Joyce looked at the both of you with her hands on her hips. - “Not that I don’t believe them, but I am afraid that Will’s and the other children’s packaging skills aren't exactly on point, if you know what I mean.” 

99 Luftballons subtly changed to Take On Me by A-Ha as it continued to blast through the quiet neighborhood. You and Eleven walked to Will’s room just as Joyce asked you to, leaving Nancy and Jonathan as they were.

And oh boy, there was a kind of war between four boys and a redhead girl going on, tees of every color were flying everywhere as they laughed and ran throughout the back of that house. It made you smile, wishing you could just join along. They were so young and careless and you loved it.

But as soon as they noticed you, an adult standing in the doorframe alongside El, they hid the tees and pants behind their backs and only whispers and giggling could be heard. 

“Joyce was right.” - You stepped in, picking up the clothes from the ground while looking at Will. His haircut wasn't the best and he looking alike Jon when he was a small boy. - “You guys can't pack clothes for shit.” - You mumbled as you watched every one of them.

The redhead watched you without a clue who you could be, but the others knew your face. Not too well, but they had definitely seen you around a few times before. 

“This is Y/N, Hop’s niece.” - El pointed at you and the redhead nodded. Any of the teenagers couldn't understand how could you be related to Hopper in any way - he was the old douche, probably ugly, fat and a really unpleasant person most of the time. But you were young, pretty and seemed to be a really chill person. 

“These are my friends.” - She pointed at the redhead and a boy alongside her. - ”Max and Lucas.” - She pointed at Will and Mike who you knew. - “Mike and Will.” - And then she pointed at a boy with curly hair who was smiling at you and to be honest, scaring you like shit. - “And this is Dustin.” 

“So, who’s the lucky one?” - You smirked at El and the way Mike’s cheeks reddened, you knew that he’s the one. She smiled at you without giving you a proper answer. 

You somehow managed to make the kids pack the things before dismantling the furniture in Will’s room with Jonathan’s help. You two were left alone as the others started to move all the boxes into the truck, having quite the space to talk. 

“So you and Nancy, eh?” - You smiled at him wickedly when you started to dismantle the bed. - “Or was I dreaming?” 

“Yeah. You haven't been in the town for a while. A lot of things have changed.” - Johnathan chuckled in response and handled you the wrench you needed. You rose your eyebrows. 

“You could at least call me. Would that be such a problem, mister Byers?” - You teased back and finally took the head of the bed out. 

“We thought you’re too busy living your best city life and forgot about the villagers. Hopper was updating us about your wellbeing pretty well. Heard you got to ILEA? He was proud as hell.” - Jonathan smiled. 

Yeah. Uncle Jim was the most supportive person on the whole planet when it came to you or El. You were both his little baby girls - and if someone tried to fuck your dreams up, he would be a literal pain in their ass. So, naturally, he spread the news about you studying on ILEA to everyone he actually listened to him. Joyce and Karen Wheeler were throwing with pride, lemme tell you. 

“Yeah. I got to Indianapolis, but they transferred me to the midwest since I have my new job here.” - You sighed and helped him with the wood from the side of the bed. - “Gonna study in a program of correspondence course while having my practicum here. Hawkins is apparently in need of fresh cops.”

“No way you're going to be the sheriff. That would make Hop so proud.” - Jonathan smiled at you softly and you smiled back at him. 

“He actually planned on me being the deputy. You really don't have many cops here, eh? Taking in a person who had barely finished their studies? Joke's on you.” - You started to dismantle the wooden legs off the sides. You and Jonathan were actually a good team when it came to manual work.

“We do have cops. But Hopper was the only one who wasn't bribed and actually done his damn job.” - Jon looked at you for a small while. You will be a good cop. He could feel it.

“It will be quite a change from Indianapolis.” - You sighed with a shy smile.

“I was wondering what you’re doing in the evening?” - Jonathan asked all of a sudden, his question followed by your furrowed face. - “We’ll be gone, but I don't want Nancy to be alone. If you want to... Accompany her, I will be glad.” 

“Oh, sure. If she would like to, no problem. We can borrow some VHS tapes to watch movies in the evening or whatever. Mrs. Wheeler gave me their old player.” - You nodded. There was one question which was making you furrow, so you leaned over to Jonathan, making him stop the work, quietly touching his shoulder. 

“I need to ask you something. It’s pretty... Personal to me.” - You exhaled loudly and your body shook completely on its own. 

You were all emotional about Jim passing away and even if it was more than a month since you got the news, you still fought the urge to cry. You tried to shake it off as Jonathan caught your palm in his as well. - “How did uncle Jim die? Nobody wants to tell me, they only told me that he had passed away. Was he shot? Or...” - You curled into a ball and closed your eyes. Jonathan looked around the room and gulped.

You didn't have to know this. You didn't need to know any of this. He wasn't feeling good at that moment and you could feel it. He didn't want to give you an answer, because he somehow felt that it would only hurt you even more.

“All I will tell you is that Hopper died like a real hero. That man might be a pain in everyone's ass, but he sacrificed everything to save the others. He saved all of us and I think that he saved everyone in this town. But if I would tell you, you would think that I’m crazy.” - Jon said quietly, interrupted by Joyce standing in the door. She clearly didn't hear much, since she didn't have any idea you even asked about Hopper. She was smiling, as usual, and she was really glad that the bed was dismantled.

“Oh, honey.” - She kneeled down to you and Jonathan, nuzzling you to her side, ruffling your hair, kissing the temple of your head gently. She was a true mom to everyone - even for a girl that spent only two months in Hawkins during the summer holiday. Even to a girl she hadn't seen in years.

She was something you never had, so you leaned into the touch of her small, warm palms, calming words and slow, caressing movements. Then you sat back up, smiling at her, drying your tears off.

“Can you get it to the truck?” - Joyce looked at Jonathan as he stood up. He nodded without any further thinking. 

“I need to give Y/N something. I talked to El and we agreed on it.” - She smoothed your cheek and kissed the other one tenderly. So, you followed her thought the empty house, thinking about your memories.

You could name the exact spot where Steve almost killed himself when he jumped off Jonathan’s bed onto the heating, hitting his forehead into the heater. You could exactly see their old sofa where you braided Nancy’s hair and you could say where the dinner table always stood. Hopper always sat there while he drank coffee with Joyce and her man. Lonnie was really fine... At times, before he left. He was a douchebag overall, though. 

The sweet memories made you smile again until you approached the gang consisting of children only standing there in a circle with Eleven in the middle, holding a box named ’HOPPER’ in big, dark green letters. It was almost like a cult initiation. You were sure it was one.

“I want you to have it.” - El said quietly and put the box on the ground, opening it. It was an old police uniform; the one which belonged to Hopper. It was dirty and smelled pretty bad, still having his sheriff’s badge on it. You took the shirt into your palms, caressing it between your fingers as other tears rolled down your cheeks. Then you looked at El. 

“Are you sure, baby girl?” - You asked and tried to contain your emotions as everyone was watching you with a sad face. El slowly gulped, getting on her knees as well, but then she nodded. She looked happy at that moment, contained with happy memories at Hopper.

“She wanted to keep it, but wouldn’t be for too much on use since it would only lay in the cabinet. You can wear it for work. Maybe it is too big for you and you will definitely need to wash it, but it has your name on it already, see?” - Joyce pointed at the small golden badge with Hopper on it in black letters. You leaned your head into her shoulder. A true legacy. - “I know he would want you to keep it. It will look good on you after you wash it.” 

“If you say so, Joyce.” - You smiled a bit, taking the box from El’s hands, fetching it into the trunk of your car. You stayed there until the very end, looking at the kids saying their last goodbyes. It made you cry as well, it was so sweet. 

Even Joyce hide behind the truck to have a little moment to herself. She hated when she saw her boys or their friends sad and crying. Joyce Byers was just the most amazing woman and mom you had ever met.

Even if you didn't expect it at all, you got hugs as well. The one from Will was a shy, quick one with that shy boy’s smile painted on his lips. Jonathan couldn't be as much different from his brother as he was - this boy held you firmly for a few seconds, he actually hugged you so tight you couldn't breathe for a second and screamed loudly with laughter. 

“Better watch it here or I will come back and kick your ass.” - He said jokingly, patting your shoulder. You opened your mouth and laughed too, hitting him gently as well. - “Sure. Keep on dreaming, Byers, because that's not going to happen.” - You patted his shoulder as well, bringing him in for one last quick hug - then you left him, so he could say goodbye to Nancy.

Eleven came to you after she kissed the soul out of Mike’s tall and slim body - she hugged you tightly. You maybe weren't exactly the closest, but you were something like sisters from one point of view. 

That was the magic Jim Hopper could do when he wanted to. He was bringing people together. He brought El and Mike so close he couldn't stand him anymore. But your bond would make him happy.

“If something, you can always call me.” - You looked her in the eyes as she continued crying. She was such a lovely girl. - “I know you would rather talk to Max, but I’m here too. I’ll be waiting for a call at Hop’s old number, okay?” - You asked and she nodded, unable to speak in words. But her tears were giving you an idea of what the was feeling. 

“And we repaired your old room. You will be always welcomed in that house.” - You kissed her forehead, snuggling her closer again. 

When they were leaving, you stood there with Nancy and the remaining kids, watching the cars leave, not even waving. Most of you were still crying your eyes out, so you were too dazzled to actually say goodbye. Just minutes after the cars disappeared, you looked at Nancy. 

“Need a ride home? The kids are taking the bikes apparently.” - You asked and took the keys to your car out of your pocket. Nancy nodded, smiling at you with the typical Wheeler smile. - “Also, if you want to, you can stay the night at my place. You would feel less alone and the cabin would feel less scary.” - You smiled at her when you both were sitting in the car. 

“I guess so. It would be fine to talk to you after such a long time. I miss our summer adventures.” -  Nancy said shyly and you stopped yourself from starting the car, looking her in the eyes, holding the steering wheel in your palms. 

“I do too. So, off to the supermarket and VHS store it is, I guess.” - You looked into the mirror showing you the space behind the car and started the old Chevy’s motor. 

[janiedean]

I have to tell you something but PLEASE, please, don't be mad. I love Brienne, and I loved her with Jamie, and I'm mad and sad that they didn't get to have their happy ending...but I don't think his ending was shit. Or OOC. First at all, book!Jamie is not TV!Jamie: his relationship with Cersei is different, not as sick or manipulative. He loves his siter and is loved by her in a more "helthier" way: in the show she told Tywing the truth about them, and it's huge considering the love for power1/?

He watched her lose their 3 children, he learned about her walk of shame to get back to Tommen, he witnessed Robert’s humiliations. I think he would have stayed with Brienne if she knew his sister was safe, but he couldn’t be happy if his siter died and he did nothing to save her. He needed to be that person, otherwise all his growth would be lost, and he would have dragged Brienne in his spiral, and he didn’t want to make her miserable. To me he is still an honorable man, bc when there was a chance to do something, he did it: he killed the king to save KL, he fought the dead army, but over and over he said that the Lannister army didn’t stand a chance against the dragons or the Dathraki, he was not a fool. His speech was not about NOT CARING, it was about knowing there was nothing he could have done. He did good, he was good, and till his last moment he tried to be honorable, he tried to be the person Brienne inspired him. P.s.: Still heartbroken that he died, but I think there is some poetic justice with Cercei crashed by the symbol of the power she tried lo long to hold.

anon, I appreciate that you’re being nice and I appreciate that you’re trying to find some sense in this entire thing, but… okay, I’ll go over it and please don’t take me as *me* being mad or whatever but I don’t think a few things were clear here so I’ll try to do it now:

jc in the show is not healthier. it might be different, but it’s not and the fact that it might have been less obvious doesn’t mean that they didn’t drag that toxic mess out for four seasons when it had no reasons to exist. now: I was down with looking at it until s4 because that was book canon and I can deal with book canon. I had to look at three more fucking seasons of that toxic abusive mess happening and I don’t know if it’s obvious or not, but if I have one thing, like one in the universe that I can’t deal with, that I hate and that makes me feel sick more than anything else it’s emotional/psychological manipulation. and show!jc has that in spades and I can’t. like, as it is right now I’m pretty damn sure I’d take reading explicit thramsay fic that ends horribly with annexed detailed fanart than even rewatching five seconds of a scene where those two are in the same frame and is2g if they had kissed at the end of 8x05 I’d have thrown up. please for the love of everything if you think it’s better than book canon your prerogative, but don’t come at me informing me of that because I can’t. especially not right now;

I honestly can’t give much of a damn about the stuff c. suffered when 80% of that is her damn fault and I’m especially talking about tommen who only did that because she gave zero shits about his opinion in anything but we’re supposed to think she’s a good mother or that she cares which makes me especially sick because people have decided that for her out of nowhere when we all know how much leeway they give catelyn for that and I’m honestly done with it, and maybe it’s not inconsistent that he’d care, but it’s inconsistent how they wrote it;

because I mean if they showed some half-regret over leaving brienne or she was mentioned or if the entire thing was addressed instead of spending four episodes building it up and then did in four minutes what it took six feet under an entire season to do with nate and brenda back in the day is bad writing, has no consistency, it also murdered tyrion as a character because I can’t believe that in the span of two episodes he goes from I’m happy that you’re happy to WELL I DON’T HATE MY SISTER SO MUCH JUST GO TO PENTOS when ah, wait, c. sent bronn to kill both of them?

also ‘who ever cared abotu the innocents’ or whatever the fuck that line was??? wow, that’s all this asshole has ever cared about in canon to the point of losing his reputation for it not counting c. or tyrion at least in the very beginning of the series when everyone thinks he’s an ass, and I have to buy that this episode was halfway decent writing?

also: even if I was okay with jaime’s ending - which I could have been if at least it amounted to something because that entire episode was a plot hole after plot hole (where’s widow’s wail? he waves WITH THE FAKE HAND??? WTF??, did he ring the bells so he actually helped destroy the city without knowing dany would lose her shit through jon connington’s ghost possessing her? if bran didn’t rat him out bc he had A ROLE TO PLAY what was the damned role since he hasn’t done anything until now that warranted it??? just the first four) and he didn’t even… help cersei or take her out like he literally was there to just give her some basic human comfort and rocks fall everyone dies, what’s the sense of it?? -, anon, this entire narrative leaves brienne horribly;

because sorry but in the best of chances she’s not pregnant and someone lies to her and tells her jaime went there to stop cersei and tried to be honorable (which given what they made him say about not caring for the innocents makes it bad writing but nvm) and she can think okay, I waited years for the right guy to trust/open myself to and then he left me like that but at least he did it for a good reason now will I ever trust anyone again, maybe, and I assure you that getting over such a thing is not too easy, but that would be the best option. mid-bad option: she still thinks he did it for the right reasons but she’s pregnant so hey, she has an illegitimate child from a man who left her like that to go into a senseless death making her believe she was wrong about him and breaking her heart and she has to play single mother in tarth without him or maybe she can hedge knight along with the kid or leave him with pod or smth but that doesn’t look good on jaime either. or worse, she’s pregnant and she finds out he went just to die with cersei and didn’t even mention her or anything to tyrion along the way so she did all of the above…. for a guy who at the end of it as the narration puts it just went back to die with c. and a kid he didn’t even know might be real or not when she could have given him what he always craved/wanted/needed and left her like that? like, anon, even if it was a good ending for jaime, there is no bloody way that brienne gets out of this mess of a season with a dignified ending unless they somehow manage to pull a miracle out of their arses and sorry but their writing has been so bad that I honestly doubt it, not even david milch showing up like the calvarly could salvage this crap of a finale, and for all characters tbqh, not just them;

on top of that, sorry but it passes the message that brienne, only rep. in this show for nonstandard attractive people who spends years thinking she’ll never find love and suddenly thinks she can be happy with the guy who also fulfilled her greatest dream and opens herself up to him putting her vulnerability on the line (and while I don’t really think the whole virginity thing is that much of an issue since she actually did manage to give it to the guy she wanted it does mean something in this context)…………. shouldn’t have done it because wow, left like that without a second thought and without being addressed in the next episode at all by at least tyrion who has spent the previous four episodes either admiring her or trying to get her and jaime together never mind jaime? wow, I mean, I surely signed up to see the character I always saw myself in getting this shit treatment by people who obviously didn’t understand either her or jaime at the bottom of it for as much as I still think 8x04 did it right until the end?

anon, I appreciate your optimism about that narrative, but this episode was so badly written that it managed to about destroy the narratives of characters that weren’t even in it (sansa and brienne, and let’s not even discuss sansa because lmao), to have every single person but davos and possibly jon but meh behave ooc given what half of their lines said if not their actions because even if we take jaime’s actions as your reading (legit) what they made him say was still atrocious and ooc and same for tyrion, let’s not even touch dany or sandor/arya or really anyone that wasn’t davos. I cannot, in all good conscience, find anything good about this mess because it was badly written. period. even if we decide that the plot and motivations were fine and we try to make them make sense the way you did, the execution was shit, the dialogue was shit, it looked like they weren’t even trying, it did a disservice to every single character that was in it except davos who was there for five seconds to smuggle stuff and I honestly, honestly, cannot even find the force of will to try to make sense of it.

this entire season has been a gigantic plot hole, it wasn’t coherent within its own narration see ep. 2 clashing with ep. 8, 90% of what happened post 8x02 was for shock value without giving a single fuck about making it look in character and making the characters behave nonsensically - and I don’t mean just jaime, I mean all of them to serve the undoubtedly wtf shocking ending they have in plan for us which if I guessed already I’ll hate with the force of a thousand suns, and I’m honestly done with trying to make sense of this thing because nothing makes sense anymore. I appreciate that y’all are trying but I give up. I can’t make sense of a narrative that goes like ‘we’re doing this because it’s cool and if it doesn’t add up with everything we did before who gives a fuck’, and I honestly can do without trying to find a silver lining in a show that has totally twisted the message of the books and turned into an angst fest for which everyone has to be miserable at all costs or it’s not good tv, and that’s the last I’m going to say about this specific matter because:

a) I’m tired, b) I want to finish my spitefics and ignore this mess ever happened and concentrate on doing something that makes me happy, c) if I just keep on thinking about how bad this was IN GENERAL I wish jaime was my #1 problem I just feel worse and I don’t need it, d) the fact that they did brienne this dirty and she wasn’t even in this episode is really leaving the worst sour taste in my mouth and it’s already bad enough that I have to hope her ending is only 80% crap and not 100% crap, I honestly can’t with discourse that tries to find any basic sense in how this episode was conceived and executed beyond my problems with jc, jaime’s writing and the fact that they managed to get wrong one of his three most basic character traits that has nothing to do with brienne or jb for that matter.

thanks for being polite and nice about this and I swear I’m not mad but I honestly can’t with this episode and I would appreciate if from this point on anyone could refrain from trying to make jc sound better than it is where I can see it/where I can’t blacklist it because it’s really not a good idea right now. thanks again and have a possibly nicer than than mine. ;)

[tachipaws]

so uhhhhh

I watched the Game of Thrones finale just a little bit ago

and I have some thoughts

spoilers under the cut.

Firstly, seeing Tyrion find Jaime and Cersei together had me almost burst into tears. As soon as he saw Jaime’s golden hand I kinda thought, oh this is a big gag, the hand will be there with Cersei and Jaime will come sidling out from somewhere, he lived thank god. But no. Jaime died in the arms of a woman he loved, taking all these years of beautiful character development with him. And I don’t say this solely as a Braime fan. I LOVED Jaime’s character. He always tried to do the right thing, and even when he was tempted by Cersei, even when he gave in, he still came back and tried to do what he thought was best. He saved thousands of lives when he killed the Mad King, and he suffered in silence for it. He stood with Brienne and with the Starks in the Battle of Winterfell, even when his own queen refused to send her help. He tried to save Cersei from certain death, and their child, tried to get her to leave and live with him in obscurity, because they would be safe and happy and their child would grow and live. But no. They die, and all it serves is to give Dany her win and Tyrion some last-minute angst. But god, seeing him crouch over his beloved brother and sister, I could feel that he felt responsible for their deaths, and it was heart wrenching to watch.

And then Dany. Oh, beautiful Dany. I’ve loved her character from the start, and all through her arc, even when she made choices that weren’t for the best, even when they put her on a White Savior complex, even when it became clear the writers had lied and were going to make her turn out just like her father. I knew she’d die this episode, but it didn’t make watching it any easier. I had so much hope watching through the series that Dany would be the one to dethrone the Lannisters, give the people a kind and just ruler, and be everything she set out to be. For her to lose so much, from her family to her friends, and then die with nothing as well, broke my heart and even as I sit here typing I have to hold back tears. I loved Danaerys’ character so much, and I’m disgusted that she was turned into a Mad Queen. The writers don’t know jack shit about character development and it really shows with her. She should have grown and realized that maybe she wasn’t best suited for a throne, at least not the one in Westeros, and either become an adviser or return to Mereen when all was said and done. I’m so glad Drogon destroyed the Iron Throne, because it’s nothing but a death sentence anyway. Fuck that throne and fuck the writers for making it so unnecessarily important. Danaerys Targaryan was meant to be different, was meant to break the wheel. But in the end, she was crushed by it like her father and so many others before her. The Targaryans die out after a legacy of incest, mental illness, fear, and death. A complete waste of an incredible character played by an amazingly dedicated actress.

Bran being named King of Westeros was something I knew was coming bc I’d asked for the spoiler, but it was still kind of a surprise in an “are they REALLY gonna do it” kind of way. I really fucking hate that his title is Bran the Broken, as if that’s the only B word that can possibly describe a man who defied death and became the Three-Eyed Raven, but again these writers are fuckin terrible so I guess that’s what we get. I didn’t like how Sam’s idea to have the people choose a ruler was sneered at so harshly. It just shows that everyone there enjoys having all the power, which goes against the characterization of at least half of them. But I guess all the upper-class have to be assholes at least a little, huh.  I don’t know if I do or don’t like Bran being the king, but I did like how it was brought up. He is the living history of the realm as Tyrion said, and now he will live on to be its future as well. For a kid who was tossed out of a window after seeing the former queen having sex with her brother, I’d say that’s a pretty good decent glow up of sorts. I almost wish there would be another season, if only to see how Westeros fairs under Bran’s rule with Tyrion at his side. I can only hope everyone lives to see the peace they finally deserve, after suffering so much under the rule of families hungry for fame and riches and titles.

Arya leaving is the one thing I’m just, really fucking bothered by. I don’t recall anywhere her having a desire to travel and see new parts of the world. When she left Westeros she did so because it was life or death. She came home to be with her family. And now she’s leaving them for god knows how long to go god knows where. I can’t believe after all the chaos and death these kids have faced and grown up around, she wouldn’t want to stay in Winterfell to be with Jon and Sansa. I just don’t like it. Arya is one of my top favorite characters and watching her grow from a stubborn child into a ruthless assassin was amazing, but somehow her ending off as an explorer just doesn’t feel quite right.

Jon being sentenced to live out his days in the Watch is the cruelest joke in this whole fucking show. Right back where he started, the bastard son of Ned stark, forced to live out his days in the cold and snow at Castle Black, never to have any family or land of his own. After all the attempts to hype up the R+L=J shit, which so many people figured out way too easily, after uncovering the mystery of his real lineage and discovering he’s one of the only two Targaryans left in existence, after all the struggle within himself of not wanting to take the throne from Dany even though he had a legitimate claim and her Mad Queen story line made her unfit to rule (and after having to listen to Varys insist only men can rule properly, tbh I’m not sad he died, I never liked him and he got what he deserved for that shit), he ends right back where he started. Jon was my first favorite character, and I always hurt for him, how he was raised with the Stark children as Ned’s bastard, how much Catelynn seemed like she wanted to love him like her own but just couldn’t, how much it must have hurt him knowing he was hurting her and her just by existing. I would have loved to see Cat find out the truth and their relationship become something different, as he was the son of her husband’s beloved sister and she would have embraced him with open arms and a thousand apologies. She just didn’t know any different, and by the time Jon knew, it was all too late. He’s lost almost all the family he’s ever known, and all the real family he ever had. His whole character arc amounted to nothing. NOTHING. My only hope is that he just goes off north with Ghost, Tormund, and the wildlings, because who’s gonna bother to make sure? Aegon Targaryan will have never existed.

AT LEAST, he finally gave Ghost the fucking pats that direwolf deserved. I was actually really happy to see Ghost and Tormund again, and even happier to see Jon acknowledge Ghost, who’d been by his side from the very start. I’m at least glad knowing they’ll still be together in the true north.

And now the grand finale, the one thing I was completely satisfied with.  Sansa Stark The Queen in the North Seeing the crown placed upon her head, seeing her take her rightful place, and hearing her men shout “THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH” made me feel swollen with pride. Sansa has been through hell and back. She watched her father die at the command of a king who tormented her, she was raped by another man who executed her youngest brother, she lost her mother and her oldest brother to a supposed ally, and spent so many seasons a hostage or a tool for other people. But she fought, and she grew, and she became shrewd and cunning at the table. Sansa calculated every step she made and it saw her to ascend the throne, and take her rightful place as the oldest Stark heir. She secured her people’s land and ensured their safety. I can only imagine how proud Ned, Catelynn, Robb, and Rickon would be if they could see Sansa now. No longer is she the scared, air-headed little girl who just wants to marry a noble man and live life in the luxury she’s always known. She’s a war veteran, a general, a wolf through and through.

I started watching Game of Thrones in season 5 I believe, with a group of friends in a stream. I knew about the show but had just never bothered to sit and watch it. After seasons 6 ended, I figured I may as well start at the beginning and have a better understanding of what’s going to happen in the last 2 seasons. I spent about three or four weeks slowly marathoning it around my oldest daughter’s schedule (she’s only six and there’s no way she’s watching it any time soon lmao) and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the characters, the world itself, and the stories being played out. I have to say though, along with so many others, I’m utterly disappointed at the ending, and season 8 as a whole. It felt unrefined, and rushed, and there was no sense that anything meaningful happened in the end. When I saw the writers so brashly say that story lines were for 8th grade books, I realized just how little they care about actually writing, and this season truly reflects that. The deaths were for shock value more than anything else, and the major conflicts were solved so easily it felt as if all the buildup for them had been for something else entirely. I don’t regret watching Game of Thrones by any means, but I do feel sad for Martin that his beautiful complex stories full of beautiful complex characters, were reduced to nothing more than a circle story. All this talk of breaking the wheel, and yet it just rolled right back around to see the unspoken main character end right where he began. Because what’s the point of a story when there’s CGI dragons and big fight scenes?

[prydon]

a ( VERY LONG) long island geek rundown

aka me just rambling on about paul for paragraphs upon paragraphs, complete with pictures.

so i went to the con with the lovely @haiileyrutledge aka maggie who drove me all the way there from the philly bus station (god bless), it was our first time meeting in person and i still can’t really believe we did this just a few months after we were just kinda joking about going together on twitter when we hardly knew each other

literally the first second we walked into the con, before we’d even gotten our badges, paul mcgann was sitting RIGHT THERE at his autograph table and i may or may not have started aggressively hitting maggie in the shoulder and freaking out and hissing “he’s there, HE’S THERE” and she had to drag me past him so we could get our badges

then we sat in on the panel before his to make sure we got good seats for his. it was a panel with wendy padbury and frazer hines and they were adorable!! by the end of their panel we were literally buzzing tho bc we knew what was next

when paul came in the first thing he did was squint up at the ceiling and complain about the brightness of the lights, like “oh this is quite harsh isn’t it” so they turned them down for him, much to maggie’s chagrin bc she’s a photographer and it made it very hard to take nice photos (look forward to her uploading her photos btw, she got some GREAT shots regardless of lighting)

then we all sang happy birthday to paul, per the interviewer’s instructions! it was v cute. someone uploaded a video of it on youtube. (i took one too, but it was much worse quality)

first question the interviewer asked was what the secret to paul’s eternal youth was, which paul took a SUSPICIOUSLY long time thinking about before finally just claiming it was his insomnia. how not sleeping is supposed to make you look better i have no idea, but it’s clearly not hurting paul’s appearance, despite him “not having slept since the nineties” (his words)

and so on went the panel. it was quite fun, and though i’d heard almost all the anecdotes paul told before, they weren’t ones he’d told a million times and the interviewer asked interesting questions about his brothers and some of his earlier roles.

he also asked him about holby- the most recent episode, even- which i was not expecting lol. he asked paul if gaskell was really dead, and paul was just like “lol it’s a soap, who knows what could happen” and joked about another soap character whose death had turned out to be a dream. 

also of note is that paul never called gaskell by name once and exclusively referred to him as “doctor death” lmaooo. i actually know why this is- he mentioned on a radio show a week or so ago that a holby city fan yelled “doctor death!” at him in the street once- but he didn’t....explain this background to the panel audience, so i’m sure many were baffled by it :”D the interviewer was like “so your most recent role, professor john gaskell-” and paul was literally like “ah, yes. doctor death!” asoifjsaij what a dork

^ this pic is actually from the sunday panel but god, actual dork with a heart of gold paul mcgann being juxtaposed next to menacing shots of “doctor death” was never not hilarious 

speaking of holby, I GOT TO ASK HIM A QUESTION DURING THE Q & A, and i asked him what it was like working with guy henry! he said working with old friends is tough bc they know all your acting tricks lol. he went on gently roast guy and say he’s looked like he was 40 since they were at rada and that one of their professors told guy that he was the kind of person who wouldn’t find real success until he WAS like 40 bc he just had one of those faces, and lo and behold, that was case. notably, paul said all of this while holding eye contact with me since it was my question, and i was literally trembling by the end of his response bc i can barely hold eye contact with my family members let along PAUL JOHN MCGANN

he also said “fuck” at one point. at another he pulled the cap off his water bottle with his teeth and maggie and i were both like...*sweating*

after that we got our photo ops! then managed to get some food in us, and then i went to get paul’s autograph and give him his bday gift, which i already detailed here [x] so i won’t get into that. notably he also called maggie photogenic and said their photo op looked like a housewarming photo of a couple just moving in. we were both dying afterwards.

theeeen that evening i attended a dinner party for fans with vip passes that the stars also attended! the food was v yummy. there was ice cream too.

unfortunately i didn’t end up at paul’s table, but i was at the table next to him so i may have eavesdropped. my table had jon davey, who plays cybermen and daleks and ood etc, and who was very funny and decidedly attractive, and who at one point pulled out his phone and showed me this video while nearly dying of laughter over it

paul was actually late to the dinner because he crashed a painting panel!!

^ here’s him painting his tardis picture with his dorky ass reading glasses on. what an old man. i love him

he did show up eventually, and ended up drinking a decent amount of red wine and i’m pretty sure got tipsy and at one point misheard the person next to him as saying “penis hands” and was like “penis hands???? PENIS HANDS???”

all my table ended up leaving early but paul’s all stayed hanging on his every word bc that’s the effect he has on people :’)) so i ended up scooting over there just to listen. at one point his assistant came over and whispered to me that paul HAD gotten the letter i gave him with his gift and he WOULD read it tonight and i was like “omg no it’s ok, i didn’t need him to reply asap or anything, i just wanted him to have it!!”

i left the dinner when paul left- his table were the last ones out- and maggie was outside the dinner waiting for me and may have collapsed into a fit of giggles when she saw paul. then we went to our airbnb and fuckin CRASHED because we were so damn exhausted

on to SUNDAY

i started placing bets on what paul would be wearing that day on sunday morning, since i know he only has like three different con outfits that he wears. lo and behold we get to the con and he’s wearing THE EXACT SAME CLOTHES AS SATURDAY. like, down to the scarf and shoes. they were 100% the same.

idk why he was, but he must have washed them, or he must be an ethereal being incapable of sweating because he was just as nice and fresh as the previous day [shrug]

we wandered around the dealer’s room for a bit, maggie bought a vinyl from a charity sale booth and i bought a couple dwms with bb eight on them bc why not

my lovely internet friends and fellow paul superfans @savageinkspillage and @paulmcgannlesbian both paid me to buy them autographs, and i was happy to oblige because it meant i got to talk to paul again

i went up to his booth and he said “good to see you again!!” and told me he was so touched by the birthday card :”0 and thanked me again for the drawing!

i told him what names to sign to for the autographs and there was an incredible moment where i told him to address one to “brittany” and his brain like. short-circuited and he tried to spell it out to me except he spelled it some ridiculous white mom way like “B-R-I-T-N-I-Y” or something and i just stared at him for a moment not sure if he was fucking with me before being like “.....no?”

once i told him “two t’s” he got it and said “like the place!!” and asked me if i knew where brittany was in a stern teacher voice and i was p sure it was france but not 100% so i was just like “d-don’t quiz me”

he also let me take pictures of him holding the autographs that i could send to my friends, which was very sweet!! here’s him with @savageinkspillage‘s.

he was very determined that we let them dry before taking them because he didn’t want them to be smudged, and blew gently on them himself like a dork.

before we could go, he also fully just was like “give me a hug” and got up and hugged me AGAIN. THREE PAUL MCGANN HUGS IN ONE WEEKEND. T H R E E.

then after he hugged me he noticed the bowie vinyl that maggie had just bought in the dealer’s room and was like “!!!!!! is that a vinyl!!!! can i see!!!”

maggie was like “of course” and handed it over and he was FAWNING over the thing and promptly informed us that it was definitely an original print bc it was made of a special sort of material only used to make records in the 70s, and that it had never been played. maggie said she got it for $10 and he was like “TEN BUCKS??”

he also sniffed it because apparently “that’s what you did with vinyls” and took it out of its sleeve (with maggie’s permission) and freakin’ messed with it to show us how bendy the materal was before giving it back to maggie and emphatically telling her to “treasure that”.

he asked us where we got it and i said it was at a table in the dealer’s room, next to where they were keeping his painting from the night before. upon hearing about the painting he was immediately like “noooo don’t remind me of that!! i’m so ashamed!!” and i was like “WTH PAUL NO IT WAS SO GOOD”

here’s paul’s painting!! it’s lovely!!

also at one point maggie’s hoop earring fell out and full on, like, made a break for paul mcgann and rolled behind his chair. she was embarrassed but he just picked it up and messed with it, feigning putting it on his ear and saying he wished he was a girl so he could wear earrings like that and i was like “you should get your ears pierced!” because he SHOULD. he just laughed.

we literally had a whole, like, probably 10 minute conversation with him and he was just so lovely and funny and warm and thanked me one last time for the drawing before we walked away soasifjsaoifj 

THEN it was time for his sunday panel!! it was a great change of pace from usual panels, it was called “doctor’s orders” and run by a podcaster who’d based it on advice columns- basically, he asks paul a bunch of questions looking for advice that he’d gathered from fans and paul had to impart his wisdom.

here are just a few choice tidbits from the panel:

q: what do i do if my boyfriend never puts the toilet seat down? paul: get rid of him

q: there are beehives in my house, what do i do?? paul: don’t kill them!! bees are our friends. move out. let the bees have the house instead

q: boxers or briefs? paul: briefs. *pointed look at audience* some of us need the support.

he was asked the trolley problem and said without hesitation that he would move the trolley to kill the one instead of the five. he also endorsed stealing from businesses to feed the hungry (unsurprising because *cough* he’s a socialist). he revealed that he shoplifted all the time as a kid as a right of passage in working class liverpool and asked the audience to raise their hands if they’d ever shoplifted. when a decent amount did, he called it a sign of a healthy society. he doted on his sons quite a bit which was adorable, and said he was the “soft touch” when they were growing up while mum was bad cop.

at one point he said if liverpool won the premiere league he’d “sit naked here in front of you” and then immediately was like “...i don’t know why i said that.” the audience was roaring with laughter the entire time. it was legitimately the funnest panel i’ve ever been too :’0 and we had front row seats!!

at the end, the host opened the panel up to the audience to ask their advice questions, and maggie asked one about how to survive while studying abroad in london next year. paul gently ribbed her at first being like “well, remember to sleep and eat” but then reassured her “you’ll be fine” and i could physically feel her melting beside me.

after the panel he chatted a bit with the women next to us, who i know to be old guards of paul mcgann fandom. i didn’t hear much but i did hear paul refer to “that brexit shit” lol.

the last time maggie and i saw paul, he seemed to be leaving the con and nearly tripped over a remote control cybermat on the way out, which was cute.

all in all...i really don’t have words for how amazing this was. i couldn’t have asked for a better environment to meet my favorite actor in, and i have gained so many wonderful memories that i can’t even keep track of them all, and i can’t wait to do it again.