#season one jon feels

[saragrosie]

As promised, incredibly stupid s4-5 drawings

[grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks]

Thinking about Jon’s time with the Circus again. Thinking about what a month spent in a refrigerated warehouse would do (because it would have to be refrigerated, wouldn’t it? it’s meant to store waxworks), just how cold his skin would be. Do you think it even still felt like his skin? Do you think his fingers brushed the skin of his arm and felt only the inhuman chill of wax, and his arm received the touch of his hand and felt only the dead press of plastic?

Thinking about how thoroughly his time with the Stranger would have made him a stranger to himself.

[wojtekaneko]

Some silly tma doodles I drew after finishing season 1! I'm really loving this story and all the characters T^T

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 60

Part 1 Part 59

The party is already in full swing by the time they pull up. Drunk high schoolers out on the lawn wearing more thought-out costumes than he and Eddie had managed. Their plans before Nancy accosted them in the hallway involved a pizza and a couple tapes from Family Video that Eddie swears he has to see.

It'd been Eddie’s idea; he’d shrugged on one of Steve’s preppy polos – his words, not Steve’s – and one of his acid-wash jeans, and pristine white sneakers, and called it good. Steve had gone along with the concept for lack of a better idea. He’d chosen his favorite Metallica shirt (the one with the hole in the armpit), a pair of Eddie’s black jeans, and Eddie's leather jacket. Eddie had grabbed his battle vest, pushing Steve's arms through it like he was a small child. It’d still been warm from Eddie’s own back.

To finish the look, Eddie had slid each ring off his fingers, matching them perfectly with their usual placements on his own hands. There was something about the way Eddie's hands felt, sliding up the vulnerable sides of Steve's fingers that made him shiver, goosebumps breaking out along his arms.

Eddie's hands had looked bare, almost risqué in their nakedness. Even now, while being packed in at all sides, Steve can't help looking down at them. He wants to push Eddie's hands into his jean pockets, hide the vulnerability of it from everyone else. He doesn't.

Almost the instant they walk through the door, Hargrove shouts, “King Bitch!” holding up his drink, as if to toast Steve’s arrival.

Tommy’s at his side, laughing like no one had ever said anything that funny in his life. Eddie’s fingers tighten around his wrist as he pulls him along.

Barbara and Nancy are hovering around the punch bowl, laughing. Nancy takes a sip of something that looks disturbingly red from her red plastic cup, and Barbara, while empty-handed, looks far happier than she had at Steve’s party all those months ago.

"Looks like they didn't need us at all!" Eddie calls loudly over the music.

Eddie’s bare fingers sneak under his sleeve to caress the skin of his inner wrist. Steve clenches his fist, relaxes it, wonders if Eddie can feel the flexing of his tendons beneath his palm.

“You came!” Nancy calls, handing her drink off to Barbara with a roll of her eyes, as she throws herself at both of them, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders and pulling them into her smaller frame. She looks down at the pair of them, brow furrowed. “What are you two even wearing?”

The angle hurts his back, even more so when he turns his head to raise an eyebrow at Eddie, who’s already doing the same. “Well, you see,” Eddie says, trying to eel out of her arms with little to no success. “I’m dressed as the king, and Steve’s my noble jester, of course!”

Nancy opens her mouth, looking up at him with a bitchy expression, but Steve interrupts her, “I said we would.” He says it loud enough to be heard over the thrumming music.

“Are you drunk?” Eddie asks, looking at Nancy with befuddlement. Steve can’t blame him. Nancy’s behavior toward him can usually be called catty at best. Not that Eddie doesn’t usually give as good as he gets, but it’s still bizarre to see Nancy’s arm wrapped so familiarly around him.

“No!” Nancy yells, at the same time Barbara says, “yes,” with an exasperated sigh.

“I only had two drinks. When she pulls out of the embrace, she’s already pouting. “I only had two drinks.

Steve holds his hand out toward Barbara, who hands over Nancy’s drink, even as the other girl complains. Steve takes a tentative sip, curious. It goes down like battery acid. It makes him lightheaded and queasy instantaneously. Probably just from the fumes.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks, sputtering. He rubs his tongue with his fingers, hoping to scrub the remnants of that taste off his tongue for good. Eddie’s hand, where it’s still wrapped around his wrist, nudges against his chin.

“It’s pure fuel,” Barbara replies, laughter audible in her tone, even as Nancy nods enthusiastically.

Steve, still grimacing at the lingering taste, drops his hand, rubbing his saliva off on his borrowed pants. “That’s rancid.”

“This is what the Kingdom has fallen to without their King,” Eddie says with a sigh. For some reason, his cheeks are pink, like he’d been the one drinking that garbage.

Steve shrugs, “Carol always used to mix the drinks.”

“Of course, she did,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes.

Barb nods in agreement, but Steve had made the mistake of handing Nancy back her drink, so she was immediately long-sufferingly trying to corral her friend to stop drinking.

Steve flows into the groove of partying quickly. He fades into the music, smiles at his friends, lets the waves flow over him. He’s happy, with Eddie by his side, and friends coming in and out of view.

Enter: Jonathan Byers.

Steve’s breathing picks up, and suddenly the pack of bodies is suffocating. He can feel sweat slick his forehead, and his vision goes a little fuzzy along the edges. He pushes past bodies with no regard, ignoring the startled complaints that follow in his wake.

Steve grabs the lapel of Jonathan’s shirt in both fists, like a kid afraid of losing his Mom in the store. And he is; he’s afraid.

“Where’s Will?” he asks, pulling Jonathan’s t-shirt, stretching out the collar around his neck.

Jonathan’s eyes widen. He reaches out, covering Steve’s hands on his shirt and squeezing. “He’s fine,” Jonathan says. “He’s trick-or-treating with his friends.” There are spots in Steve’s eyes. “Breath, dude.”

Steve inhales, ragged and aching. “You didn’t go with them?”

Before Jonathan can answer, Eddie is there, big palms on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing. He leans forward, whispers in Steve’s ear. “Let’s go outside, sweetheart.”

Steve nods, letting Eddie lead him past the throng of partygoers, pulling Jonathan along as well by the hem of his shirt, still clutched in one of Steve’s fists hard enough to hurt.

They emerge out on Tina’s back porch. It’s dark, but the fresh air hits Steve and his lungs finally expand.

“Jonathan?” Steve asks, wheezy and breathless.

Jonathan meets his eyes, quickly pulling something out of his pocket. When Steve looks down, it’s a walkie-talkie, the same kind the party is so fond of using.

“He begged me to go with his friends,” Jonathan says, talking fast like he’s afraid Steve will punch him if he doesn’t get the words out quickly enough. Or pass out on him. “I told him he’d have to radio in every half hour, on the dot, or I’d call Hop.”

Steve breaths in, breaths out, feels Eddie’s hand steadying the small of his back. “And he has been?” Steve asks.

Jonathan nods, slow, like any sudden movements will spook Steve.

“Well, then!” Eddie says, massaging Steve’s shoulders quick and dirty a few times until Steve melts into his hands. Steve’s bereft when he drops his hands to join their impromptu circle. Eddie digs around in Steve’s pocket, pulling out a pristine joint with a quirked brow. “I think some of us could maybe chill the fuck out right about now.”

Steve rolls his eyes when Eddie looks pointedly his way, but dutifully swipes the joint from Eddie’s hand. He slides it in his mouth, feels it stick to the inside of his lip as he leans forward for Eddie to light it.

The first hit sends him coughing. Jonathan claps his back companionably as he passes the joint to him. Jonathan, suspiciously, doesn’t cough at all. Neither does Eddie, but that’s to be expected.

A few more rounds of puff puff pass, and Steve’s so relaxed he flows onto the ground. Eddie laughs, passes the joint to Jonathan, and plops down beside Steve, patting his thigh.

Eddie’s smiling down at him in a way that makes Steve’s stomach populate with butterflies by the handful. He looks teasing, like he’s thinking of the best thing to say. Steve suddenly knows he’s going to speak and then he does. “Are you alright down there, princess?” he asks. “All calmed down?”

He swallows his desert-dry mouth and hopes his voice comes out clear. God forbid he fucks up so badly Eddie invites Jonathan to warm his bed instead. “Yeah,” he says, throat cracking around the word. In a bid to redeem himself, Steve clears his throat, swirling his spit around to help rehydrate. “I can see the future?” he says, voice lilting upward at the end like it’s a question.

Eddie leans forward, hand patting Steve’s cheek gently. It feels nice. Steve leans into the touch. “Are you serious?” he asks. “Is this another superpower thing?”

Steve wobbles one of his hands together in a wishy-washy gesture that his brain gets caught in. It feels nice, the stagnant night’s air smacking against his palm so he does it faster, smiling.

“He’s just high,” Jonathan says, turning just enough that Steve can see the bottom of his chin. He looks weird from down below. Gargantuan.

Eddie flops gracelessly beside him, burrowing the back of his head into Steve’s ribs. “Damn, so you can’t see the future?” he asks, whining. “We could use another Supergirl.”

Steve’s too busy watching Jonathan to argue over not knowing any supergirls again. Jonathan’s leaning against the railing, and Steve knows, suddenly, that he’s going to take another drag from the dwindling remnants of the joint. And then he does.

“I can see three seconds into the future,” he says wonderingly, still smiling.

Eddie burrows his head harder into Steve’s ribs until Steve brings his hand up to pet clumsily through his hair. “Ugh, you got my hopes up.”

“I’m a supergirl.”

Jonathan and Eddie are laughing at him, but Steve’s looking up at the shitty overhang above Tina’s wonderous porch and wishing it was gone. He wants to see the sky, the stars splashing out above him. He wants to pluck them from the sky and put them, still flaming, into Eddie’s hair.

He wants.

Something answers his wishes. The overhang is gone, rotted away from above him so the white specks can rain down on his face. He holds up his hand, hoping it’ll be cold enough for snow. Even with the red sky, even with Eddie gone from beside him, Steve hopes.

But when he brings it down to his eyes, the stuff smears along his palm, just like ash. Maybe he can’t see into the future. He would’ve seen this.

He would’ve predicted the way the shadows stripe themselves across his face, blotting out all the red in the worst way possible. He would’ve predicted the way that thing seems to move without moving at all.

He didn’t.

Steve sobs, just once. And then, Steve does what he does best: he runs.

Part 61

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[hell0jon]

Guys I can assure you British people are real.

I had an encounter with one once, and I can tell you it did not end well

They are in our homes, among our children and families

Be careful, for the true horror does not lie in the darkness of night, but within the shadows of our kin.

[rise-my-angel]

U like Sansa? Personally she’s so bland and self righteous that I find it impossible to like her :( her personality depended on the people she was spending time with

Sansa is like my problematic little sister who makes my life a frustrating hell, but I still spoil her everytime I come to visit.

She certainly has her issues and I have judged her for them in the past, especially regarding her entitlement, selfishness, and classiest views. All of which are issues riddled throughout her story.

But there is a part of me that remembers that behind it all, she is just an innocent, naive girl who is being forced to play house in the capitol and family that murdered her father in front of her, and is forcing her to play pretend that she can't wait for the rest of her traitor family to die so she can marry the King who did all of this in the first place.

Sansa in the books, and Sansa in the first four seasons are very much that girl who while has a LOT of growing up to do, she is still just that naive girl who desperately needs someone to care about her with no hangups attached like everyone around her, but she never gets it. She is nothing more then a pawn to these people who see her as a useful pretty airhead instead of someone that given the right mentor and environment, could be very clever and quick on her feet.

In the first four seasons she has some great moments. Like when Joffery forces her to look at her fathers head on a spike, and she risks her own life by stepping forward about to push Joffery off the ledge before she's stopped and knocked back into reality by the Hound telling her to keep herself alive and play along. Or the scene where Margaery proposes she can get Sansa to Highgarden by marrying her to Loras and you just see that innocent girl who wants someone to care about her finally have hope, only to be seen next on the docks in tears as all of it was taken away from her before she could even dream about that better life.

She isn't the most interesting character, and her last four seasons in the show I have made quite clear I absolutely hate her characterization, but the Sansa we see whose still just a girl trapped in Kings Landing being forced to say she wants her whole family dead and smile while doing so, I feel for her.

I remember that Sansa in those moments, behind all her issues and flaws, is just a naive girl who no one around actually cares about and it makes me care about her more, beacause no matter what her flaws are, someone should.

But I do not at all blame people who cannot get past those flaws.

[tofutopping]

The Magnus Archives workplace comedy

au where TMA still has 5 seasons, but it’s just a continuous season 1. Everything is okay, the scary statements can be dismissed, their boss is just a weird old man, and everyone is friends!

(click on the image to see it in the best quality)

[gammija]

i love s4, and im enjoying listening to it with the magaday, but i forgot it would also lead to the worst thing: seeing people interpret media differently than me on the internet OTL

[the-magpie-archives]

MAG 5 - 'Thrown Away' - Expected failure.

In the conclusion of this episode Jon talks about Martin conducting the follow-up interview, and immediately afterwards explains how he expected it to fail. This brings up an interesting possibility.

Sometimes when we assign assumptions to people, we subconsciously adjust our behaviour towards them to make it right. It's like the concept of the self-fulfilling prophesy but placed upon another. In Jon's case, this seems to take place in the form of giving Martin tasks that will probably be useless, or likely to fail. It's easy to keep believing things about a person if they're not in a position to prove you wrong.

This would be just as harmful, if not worse for Martin himself. He already has a low self esteem, and even if you figure out that you're being guided down a path to failure its hard not to blame yourself. Martin's obviously very good at talking to people, and seeing himself unable to obtain useful information (even if nobody else would've been able to get it) would be confusing and frustrating; this, inadvertently causing him to feel the same way that Jon feels in his job.

They say that you shouldn't jump into the water to help someone who's drowning, as their instinct will be to push you down to pull themself up... Perhaps this also applies in emotional contexts.

[is-that-sand-in-my-waffles]

Din loopholing his way back into being a side character is so on brand for him

[mysterypigeon]

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (tma)

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

TMAGP just doesn't hit the same 😔

[mementoasts]

jonathan sims head archivist of the magnus institute london

[lunarcigar]

Imagine waking up from a coma to see your ex girlfriend and your cop friend and they instantly have beef with you

[sureuncertainty]

okay here are my thoughts on pj/hazel as a ship (from bottoms which i will probably be hyperfixating on for a bit sorry not sorry)

i guess I appreciate them as ship but i'm having a hard time getting quite on board with it just bc i'm really tired of the trope (idk if it's a trope but I see it frequently) of character A is a total asshole to character B consistently and then like... apologizes once (or not at all) and then B just forgives them immediately and it's fine. like idk i don't like ships where one character is mean to the other, it feels like there's an imbalance there. yeah pj apologized but i lowkey felt like hazel was too quick to forgive her and hazel deserves someone who doesn't make fun of her and is not mean to her 24/7 and who actually shows their appreciation of her and love for her and doesn't make her feel bad about herself, not just someone who enjoys kissing her yknow???

[rise-my-angel]

In addition to the new main ingredient of "this time a character worries how they're seen in their marriage but its Jons turn on the hot seat", we now add a cup and a half of "Jon starts to obsess about negatively comparing himself to Rhaegar when it comes to his feelings about the reader".

We also add 2 tablespoons of "Jon goes through a having 2 fathers identity crisis again, but this time make it less angry and more lustful, because Stark men absolutely use sex as a coping mechanism for their problems." (See the recipe for "why does ptsd riddled Ned Stark have 6 goddamn kids" for reference).

Our dessert recipe will include a secret ingredient called "a 1000 miles away Aegon is having the same identity crisis but theres no lust, only sadness and make it Martell themed."

The recipe name this time is called "Rhaegar is still such an asshole that his only living sons fucking hate him."