odinsonnn

[odinsonnn]

in ways that can't be said — chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE — SNORES & SNORTS

Geralt, a very tired and very overworked librarian, finds an eccentrically dressed man asleep in the library right as they're about to close.

Jaskier, a very tired and very overworked educator at the local museum, accidentally falls asleep in a library whilst doing research for an upcoming exhibit and is awoken by a devastatingly attractive librarian.

---

By the time closing rolled around, Geralt really, truly, honestly just wanted to go home.

In general, Geralt preferred to not work closing shifts. The library stayed open until 7pm most evenings, but he liked to be home with Ciri as early as possible; Lambert was always happy to watch her until Geralt got off work, given that Lambert’s job in Dol Blathanna’s Public Works department wasn’t a traditional 9-to-5, but, well. Geralt missed his daughter, is all, and was perhaps a bit clingy when it came to her. Sue him for loving his kid.

Despite his reluctance to work past 5pm, Renfri had caught the flu, and Geralt had agreed to cover her shift while she recovered, meaning he would be at the library until about 7:30. Of course, by the time it was half past 5, he was itching to get home—by then, he would normally be pulling into his driveway in Upper Posada, and Ciri would be running outside to greet him while Lambert watched them with poorly disguised fondness from the front porch. He would pick his daughter up, balance her on his hip, ask her about her day at school and what she and her Uncle Lambert had been up to since she got home. He would get to kiss her on her forehead, and cook dinner (lately, she had become a big fan of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets), and—

Anyway. Enough of that.

The minutes and hours ticked by with relentless, deliberate slowness, and Geralt felt nothing but relief when it was finally,  finally time  to start closing. Zoltan offered to organize the information desk and the front seating areas while Geralt swept the shelves for any stragglers and re-shelved any books sitting around.

Geralt worked quickly, eager to finish up and return home—in the back of his mind, he wondered what Lambert and Ciri had eaten for dinner—and he was returning a book of traditional Temerian recipes to its rightful shelf when he heard…

Well.

It seemed to be somewhere between a snore and a snort, in all honesty, and Geralt could only sigh deeply and brace himself before rounding the corner.

He had been expecting any of a number of things, really. Typically, it was elderly people who would fall asleep at the tables, but in his years of working at the library, Geralt had practically seen it all.

Still, he was surprised when, in one of the cushioned wooden chairs, slumped down onto the round table and surrounded by a veritable pile of books, was a man with a mop of brown hair actively using an open book as a pillow. There was a peaceful expression on his face, features soft and neutral and relaxed, and he seemed to be drooling onto the book just a bit. His clothing was… colourful, mostly. He wore a pair of bright purple slacks and brown loafers. On top of a short-sleeved button down, he had on a sweater vest with a garish blue leaf pattern covering it. There was a well-made leather satchel slung over the back of his chair, and Geralt spotted an assortment of silver rings on his hand.

Right as Geralt finished looking him over, the man released another ungodly snore from deep within his chest, and Geralt had to resist the urge to snort in amusement as he walked over and shook the man gently by his shoulder. Almost immediately, he grumbled into the book and began to blink awake, and Geralt hastily removed his hand, waiting patiently as he got his wits about him.

After a quick stretch in his seat, the man twisted to face him, still blinking the tiredness from his eyes, and Geralt was shocked by just how blue they were as he stared up at Geralt. The man froze for a moment, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights, before he seemed to take in his surroundings and look properly embarrassed.

“Sorry,” the man grinned sheepishly, then paused to yawn and rub at his eye before continuing. “I must’ve fallen asleep. Do you, uh, happen to know what time it is?”

Geralt looked down at his watch, then back up at the man. “Five till seven.”

“Oh, fuck,” he cursed, standing up. (Geralt was slightly ashamed to admit that he hadn’t realized until just then that the man was of a height with him.) He began hastily stacking books and piling some in his arms. “Is there still time to check these out? I can come back tomorrow if not, but I was really hoping that I—”

“Calm down,” Geralt said, raising an eyebrow at the man’s hurried, panicked flurry of movement. “Go to the desk. Zoltan can help you. You can leave anything you’re not borrowing here.”

Relief and hope flashed though the man’s unnecessarily blue eyes. “You’re sure?”

Geralt just nodded stiffly, watching as the man thanked him profusely and gathered his things, carrying a handful of books with him as he rushed off toward the lobby. Once he’d disappeared and his shuffling footsteps faded out, Geralt rummaged through the rest of the titles he’d accumulated. They all seemed to be on art and music across the Continent—a book of Aedirnian folk songs, a history of Kerackian musical movements, an encyclopaedia of Kaedweni sculptors. Geralt hummed under his breath, then began the monotonous job of putting everything in its rightful place.

---

In his defense, Jaskier really hadn’t meant to fall asleep at the table.

Ever since he’d moved to Aedirn, he found himself exhausted more often than not. His life had consisted of a series of rather sporadic, spontaneous moves ever since he decided to leave his family home in Kerack to pursue the arts. He’d moved to Redania years ago to attend none other than Oxenfurt Academy, and had spent his summers gallivanting around the countryside with his schoolfriends. After three years of study, he graduated with degrees in Music Performance and Art History, and a year later, had earned a graduate degree as well. He had then promptly departed for a year of backpacking through Temeria, after which he’d returned to Oxenfurt to teach for a term. Most recently, he had uprooted his entire life to move to Dol Blathanna. He’d decided on a bit of a whim that he needed a change of pace—new places, new sights, new people. As soon as he had a job lined up as an educator and program developer at the Dol Blathanna’s Museum of Art and History—which, everyone had to admit, was truly a perfect fit for him—he had packed his things and been on his way.

That had been nearly two months ago, and Jaskier had been working overtime to establish a life for himself in the city. He’d always been a restless person, needing noise and hustle and bustle to keep himself sane, so he had signed a lease for a rather expensive apartment close to the city’s center. On the bright side, the location made his commute to work rather convenient, and he was near enough to nightlife that he had found a handful of bars and cafés he could play the occasional gig at. He’d also taken to offering music lessons on the weekends to help make ends meet. Between his musical pursuits, unpredictable work hours, and numerous side jobs, he was, well. Pretty tired, all things considered.

However, there was no time to rest! He had been tasked with a laundry list of assignments at work in order to prepare for the summer; the museum always put on educational programming and enrichment opportunities for children when schools were out of session, and Jaskier’s job was to propose and develop said programming. Thus, on one of his rare days off, he had gone to the library to do a bit of light research; he had a handful of ideas for some interactive exhibits, but he needed to flesh them out a bit more.

The research ended up being less light than he had planned, because of course it had, and soon enough, Jaskier had a pile of books around him. By the time he had finished flipping through the third book, he was becoming rather tired, and—

Okay, well. Look. Here’s the thing. Jaskier was tired, and he had been up until very early in the morning because he’d played a gig for some swanky hotel bar in the central business district, and the library was just cold enough that it was making him drowsy, and the sounds of people flipping through pages and trodding up and down the aisles was soothing him, and the books were, in all honesty, starting to bore him, and—

He fell asleep. He fell asleep, okay, and in his opinion, that was a very reasonable consequence given the clusterfuck of a headache his week had been.

Next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake by a man gorgeous enough that Jaskier, for a brief moment, froze in place and forgot entirely where he was. (He froze, which he never does. Julian Alfred Pankratz does not freeze, gods dammit, but sweet Melitele, who could blame him? The man was stunning.) He was tall and broad-shouldered, his long white hair tied messily into an updo with a few strands framing his face; he had honey-golden eyes, a strong brow and nose and jawline, and a few faint scars decorating his face. He wore a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a very flattering pair of black jeans. He also, much to Jaskier’s embarrassment, had a name-tag; in large letters, it read GERALT RIVIA, and underneath, in smaller text, LIBRARIAN . The library’s logo was depicted to the left.

A very gorgeous man, and a librarian to boot? Unfair.

Though he tried to appear smooth and suave and generally like a competent, put-together adult, Jaskier knew he fumbled through his interaction with the man, and he felt a bit like a fool the entire time. As he practically scurried off with his handful of books, his face and neck warmed with embarrassment. At the desk, he found the “Zoltan” individual Geralt had spoken of, a short, stocky man with a mohawk and full beard, and Jaskier hurried through the transaction before practically fleeing from the library. It wasn’t until he had returned to his apartment nearly twenty minutes later that he finally felt like he could breathe again.

He went through his evening routine of taking a scalding hot shower, changing into pajamas, and lounging on his couch with leftover takeout and a glass of Est Est. (Est Est was definitely beyond what he could afford at the moment; that particular bottle had been a farewell gift from Essi.) As he ate and drank, he flipped through the books he had checked out and wrote out ideas, notes, and questions in his work notebook. And if he occasionally remembered his downright embarrassing encounter at the library and then buried his face in a pillow as he tried to emotionally recover, that was nobody’s business but his own.

As the hours passed and the clock crept closer to midnight, he’d come up with more questions than anything else, which was. A bit of an issue.

Even with his extensive studies in art history, Jaskier didn’t know as much about Aedirnian artistic customs—his studies had placed a focus on traditions in remote, mountainous regions of Redania and Kaedwen. He could talk for hours about the production of Redanian watercolour paints, and had quite literally co-written one of the most comprehensive books on Kaedweni folk music, but he’d wanted the museum’s summer programming to have an emphasis on local arts, which meant that he’d need some help.

He then realized that this probably meant asking one of his new coworkers for direction, which he would, to be quite frank, rather perish than do, because he felt that most of them already thought he was silly and foppish and deeply unserious, with the way he was always running to and fro with his head barely attached to his shoulders, never seen without a cup of coffee and bags under his eyes. However, it was either facing his coworkers, all of whom had chronic cases of stick-up-the-ass-itis, or… going back to the library, and potentially facing the tall-gorgeous-intimidating librarian again. (Geralt, his brain supplied helpfully.)

Neither option sounded particularly appealing, and both avenues would undoubtedly lead to Jaskier making a fool of himself, so he decided that he would simply go to the library as soon as it opened at nine in the morning; he severely doubted that the man would be working from nine to seven on a daily basis, so he was probably in the clear.

…Probably.

---

AN: hey y'all! hope you enjoy chapter 1!! keep up with me on my ao3, found +here, and my twitter @nottveth. chapters 2 and 3 are already written and posted on ao3, but will be updated here over the next few days.

[odinsonnn]

What’s your fantasy?

[odinsonnn]

my afro is blonde rn and i am loving it. black girls, we look so good with funky hair colours and i live for it. lighter hair colours frfr make our melanin pop

Destroy the idea that dark skinned girls can’t have pastel hair. Burn it. Delete it from your head forever. Fuck the “it doesn’t compliment my skin tone” bullshit. That’s just some lie white kids made up to derail your confidence and keep you from doing what you love

[odinsonnn]

Hello TFATWS community

#oh how i love sambucky #winter falcon #if u will

[odinsonnn]

I’ve written out four different posts about Steve Rogers and his canonical ending and Sam and Bucky and SamBucky and feelings I have about all that, but I just keep deleting them as they approach paragraph three of my screed because I don’t want to talk about the MCU that much 

#i am a stucky-anti and im not afraid to say it #but on a more serious note #she's right and she should say it

[odinsonnn]

So, India is dying.

Look, I know a good number of you are from the US and things aren't amazing there either, but my country is literally on the brink of collapse. So I'd love it if we could talk about that for a minute.

If you can't do anything else, please just read and reblog.

A second COVID wave has taken out the healthcare system. There are no more hospital beds. There's an oxygen shortage. There's a critical vaccine shortage. The Central Government has thrown its hands up and is passing the baton to the State Governments to do what they can.

There are over 16 million covid cases. A record 330,000 new cases reported yesterday - comparable to the US at its peak. 187,000 dead as of today.

There is no plan.

Mass cremations are taking place. The cremation grounds are running day and night and they are short on wood. People are watching their loved ones die while waiting for a hospital bed, and then they're unable to give them the proper burial rights.

Hospitals are overwhelmed. Patients are being confined, two to a bed. They're the lucky ones.

We are on the verge of people dying in the streets.

This is the second-most populous country in the world. The largest democracy. A country that encapsulates over 15,000 years of recorded human history and has endured everything from famine to invasion to colonisation.

We might be at the end. This might be the thing that does us in.

People are dying.

People are dying.

People are dying and there is no plan.

More good news? Variants are popping up. A double mutation strain has shown up. It is resistant to current vaccines. This will not go away. This is the devastation they warned of when the anti-maskers were out protesting the minor inconvenience of covering their face in public.

My country is on the verge of an emergency state. Our government has failed us. This is as dire a situation as it ever could be.

Look. I don't do much with my life. I write fics, some of you have read them and that's pretty much it. I spend my days with my head in the clouds because that's where I like to be.

But two days ago, my grandmother tested positive, had to be taken to hospital and the ambulance caught fire.

She barely made it to the urgent care she needs.

So, here I am, using whatever meager platform I have to cobble this request together. Because I have to do something.

If you can, donate.

Or spread the word.

Help. Please.

[odinsonnn]

CPD just killed a fifteen year old child.

[odinsonnn]

i was doing my usual “jump down the TERF rabbithole to increase the database for shinigami eyes” and i encountered a TERF that had deliberately added “TERFs DNI” to her bio, and then she bragged about it in a post a little further down her blog.

while I knew right away that she was a TERF, because she reblogged exclusively from known TERFs and the posts were direct rhetoric, I think it’s important that I spread this information for people who are not as well-versed in the way TERFs operate on this website.

TERFs hide in plain sight. it is not unusual for a TERF to put “TERFs DNI” or “TME” (transmisogyny exempt) in their bio. In fact, some joke that “TME” stands for “transmisogyny enthusiast.” They do this in order to avoid being reported and banned. They also do this in order to trick people into feeling safe and following them. That way, more people will be exposed to transmisogynist rhetoric.

Just because someone has “they/them” in their bio does not mean they are not a TERF. Nonbinary people can be TERFs. GNC women can be TERFs. Don’t let pronouns lull you into a false sense of security.

Crypto-TERFs are a thing. These are people who follow and reblog from TERF blogs, but avoid reblogging posts containing direct rhetoric so as to not be detected as transmisogynists. Someone might have a blog full of pretty pictures and art, but when you look at WHO they’re reblogging that art from, it becomes very clear that they endorse those beliefs. They also serve as a bridge between the TERF community and tumblr at large. You may follow someone because they reblog poems or art, and then feel inclined to check out the blogs they got that content from. This is deliberate recruitment tactic.  

TERFs will sometimes have an about page or a pinned post insisting that they “aren’t a TERF” and “support trans people” but then proceed to write THE most transphobic garbage after it. The idea is to have someone skim the text, read the “not a TERF” part, and move on, while the rest of the text is intended to signal to other TERFs that they are, in fact, a TERF.

how to spot a TERF:

reblogs from other TERFs (obvi)

URLs that reference reproductive organs (like uterus, ovary, vulva, vagina, pussy, cunt, clit) are almost always TERFs. I’m sure exceptions exist, but I have never encountered one. Also keep an eye out for “rad” and “radical” (in reference to “radical feminst”/”radfem” - which is what TERFs call themselves.) Also, a dead giveaway, but I HAVE seen it: “TERF” or “Terve” etc. in URLs. 

TERFs are radfems. Radfems are anti-sex work, lesbian separatists, bioessentialists, and misogynists. They spend a lot of time attacking other women for shaving or wearing makeup, for doing sex work, for dating men, and doing other things they personally disagree with. They also believe that men are inherently predatory. If a blog is spreading radfem beliefs, they’re either a TERF or a crypto-TERF. There is no such thing as “trans inclusive radical feminism.” 

use of “TRA” (trans rights activists), “genderists” (transgender people), posts about “men invading women’s spaces” (they mean trans women), use of the word “female” - ESPECIALLY “adult human female” which is a well-known TERF slogan in the UK , use of this emoji 🏁 (”only two genders”), the phrase “sex-based oppression”, salem witch trial references (”we’re the daughters you didn’t burn”), and references to suppression (”i will not be silenced”), mentions the “S.C.U.M. manifesto” (a manifesto insisting that “the male sex” should be ELIMINATED. the author attempted to KILL andy warhol.)

bios containing: XX, radfem, adult human female, female, gender critical, terven (TERF), ex/former TRA, febfem (”female exclusive bisexual” - TERFs who consider all trans men and transmascs to be women/female. they are chasers unable to reconcile their sexual feelings for men.)

[odinsonnn]

Let’s talk about why there’s that shitstorm about “don’t make Bucky centric posts”

Since day 1, this is the biggest drama in this fandom. (We got Stackie, our two favorite characters sharing the screen and working together and some “fans” are still trying to ruin this! But nevermind ig.)

I think the problem is that we’re looking at two radically different things here.

On one side, you got a fictional character - Bucky. For some reason, it’s our comfort character for a lot of us (I know my reason, it’s called being ND). He’s a complex character though we always had too little content - until now. He’s also heavily traumatised and finally addressing it for our greatest joy as little angst simping shit. Sam, however, there’s not so much to talk about him. He’s the loveliest character of all and he’s got some shit going on but mostly as much as everyone else.

On the other side, you got a real issue transcribed in fiction - racism. Here’s where Sam character is the most interesting but not by itself: because he highlights the issue. And with that, you got the lack of recognition for Anthony Mackie, the talk about racism within the fandom, race question in the creative process and so on.

If you prefer: on one hand you have an absolutely interesting character whose discussions around it won’t change a thing in real life and on the other hand a very problematic, absolutely not fictional issue that needs to be addressed in real life.

And you know what? There’s nothing we could do about that. We can’t make long ass meta post about Sam Wilson like we do about Bucky Barnes and we shouldn’t be shamed for that (or attack others on that). Because in term of character complexity and/or deepness, they’re not on the same level. (I’d place Sam on the same level as Kali, maybe Sharon and Zemo. You get the gist: the emo one is Bucky.) The same way Bucky Barnes is absolutely not on the same level as talking about racism in real life.

We have to acknowledge the multi layering of this show.

Because with that in mind we would be able to: post long ass posts on how Sebastian Stan portrays Bucky’s trauma, how many looks is Anthony Mackie serving, what’s the best quote/action of Sam in the lastest episode that showcase his current thought process, what scenes addressed institutional racism and how all the characters reacted and what that says about us and them, shipping sambucky whether platonically or romantically because deep down they care about each other, talking about the music or the aesthetics (this last episode gave us so much tbh).

Tl;dr This show has so many layers, it’s an insult to it to want the fandom to focuse on one aspect only or think certain aspects don’t need to be addressed at all.

(Or like that we’re forgetting to address some. My dudes, I watch the episodes several times and don’t think I notice everything. So by all mean, share what you found BUT WITH POSITIVITY DAMMIT.)

#some of y'all bitches be getting on my nerves #just say you're racist and anti-black and leave #literally shut the fuck up #sam wilson is captain america #and sam wilson is an interesting and layered character #you're all just boring and fetishize bucky's trauma #tired of this shit #y'all got me pressed

[odinsonnn]

Y’all, we need to talk about something.

When tfatws was about to come about I saw some posts along the lines of “you better support Anthony as much as Sebastian” and things like that and I thought they were being dramatic. Bucky has been one of my favorite characters since the first avenger but the thing that sparked this show and letting them work together were the press junkets for civil war. I still watch videos of those but you have to admits that Anthony is the one pulling the weight, he and Sebastian play off of each other really well, but he’s the one pushing most of the jokes. This is what really made me start to respect Anthony so much more and enjoy his acting as much as Sebastian’s. I figured that y’all would do the same.

Then the first episode came out, and I saw a lot of stuff about Bucky and not a lot about Sam, and I get it, Bucky has the bigger fan base to begin with, but I thought it would level out. I see people being devastated by Bucky’s remorse and mental turmoil, I see next to nothing about Sam’s guilt and the pain of being denied because of racism, I understand it’s a less comfortable topic, but it shouldn’t be.

Next episode comes out, any talk about the huge, really painful for me moments that deal with serious racism not only in general but in America, gets talked over by people either complaining about John Walker or complaining about people harassing Wyatt Russell. I get it, he sucks, but not as much as blatantly racist police 🤷.

The third episode comes out, and this was the last straw. I see people talking about Zemo, ZEMO, and his fun little dance and his coat and “Zemo is... kinda hot?” And NOTHING about Sam. Y’all will literally simp for any white man over a black man, huh. I’ve seen people are due that everyone has different preferences but when those preferences only exist because you were fed racist views then they’re not an excuse. It hurts extra when you’ve seen Anthony Mackie say that every white man he plays opposite of gets rocketed into fame while he doesn’t. Look at his work and tell me it isn’t happening. I know a lot of us are already invested in Bucky and have been for a while, but it is a choice that you can consciously make to reflect on what you’re saying and posting and if you really payed attention to Anthony or any of the other characters (it hasn’t slipped my notice that no one is talking about Sharon either). Do better, be aware, make an effort. Alright I’m done.

#FACTUAL. #i have been a bucky stan since day one #but sam wilson is a national treasure #and he deserves so much more love than y'all are giving him #SUPPORT ANTHONY MACKIE

[odinsonnn]

Falling in love, speed run

#i am in love with her i think

[odinsonnn]

I’ve invented ‘The Knife-Wielding Tentacle'👍

#why is that comic my sense of humour #i swear to god i WHEEZED

[odinsonnn]

HIM REFUSING TO WORK WITH A DIALECT COACH IS SO FUCKING FUNNY I LOVE THIS MAN HE’S INSANE

#please he is so fucking unhinged i love him #tdatt

[odinsonnn]

please ive shipped them since the minute i watched CA:CW im so ready to be queerbaited again <3 sambucky superiority, thank you

Yes sirrrr

#mila says stuff #the falcon and the winter soldier #sambucky #tfatws #bucky barnes #sam wilson

[odinsonnn]

Hi can you please do a fandral the dashing x gf reader NSFW alphabet thanks.

hi there!! unfortunately, i don't really know a lot about fandral since he doesn't have a whole lot of screen time, so i'm not certain i could do him justice. if you ever have requests for other thor characters / marvel characters that i might know a bit better, you can totes let me know and i'll do my best!!

#asks #mila says stuff #ask mila

[odinsonnn]

I keep going back to watch this video it just captures my sense of humour perfectly

[odinsonnn]

December 15 2019 - The UFC’s biggest MAGA piece of shit (other than president Dana White) Colby Covington just had a title fight against Nigerian immigrant champion Kamaru Usman. During the fight Colby got his jaw broken, got knocked out in the last round and then proceeded to literally run away during the champ’s victory announcement. [video]/[video]/[video]