#MANY thoughts on jon's statement

[southern--downpour]

oh ofc they burried leitner under the last name icarus of COURSE they did

[helianthus04]

STATEMENT REMAINS

[abelllia]

Burned through 80 episodes of TMA in one week and GOD I want to cry

[yaboyspodcastpalace]

Tma dungeon meshi au.......................

[hopefully-inspiring-persona]

And finally here’s that TMA comic I was working on a while back. I just wanted to upload a good scan of it so now here I am. My Martin design changed drastically from the time I made this comic to now so I’m a bit sad about that but yea.

This comic takes place right around MAG 79

[ID: A black ink TMA comic, listed as being by AllegoricSiren. It starts on a view of Jon sitting up and rubbing his face in bed. The captions float around the panels and are here written in bold. It begins,

“Personal log of Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute. Statement Begins.”

The next page has magnetic tape twisting between the panels, coming from a cassette. First is a shot of the tape recorder next to Jon. “I... cannot sleep.” Jon rubs his eyes, the recorder whirring in the background. “What has been happening of late... It... I thought recording my thoughts might help.” A profile shot of Gertrude. “It gives me comfort knowing none of my coworkers were responsible for the murder of Gertrude Robinson. But if none of them, who. Why. (Why.)” A shot of something dark peering past the tunnels. “And what is living in the tunnels.” A shot of Not!Sasha, a woman whose face splits in half with an inhumanly grinning silhouette. “And... Not, (Not) Sasha.”

Tim is shown shouting in caps, “No one wants to kill you, you pompous idiot.” Jon narrates, “Tim hates me now. (I don’t blame him.) I’ve been unfair to him.” And Martin...” A shot of Martin nervously opening a door. Jon looks down with discomfort and deep regret. “There are a... great many things I wish I wouldn’t have done.” He buries his face in a hand and says quietly, “... God I’m sorry.”

The next page’s background is black, with white webs and accent lines from behind the panels. Jon sighs, and the tape continues to whir. A white aura around his head separates him from the black. He continues, “Something is keeping us here.” The webs in the background stretch into a white panel. Then a shot of a conspiracy board. “There’s something in these statements.” A shot of the shelves in the Archives. “Something (Something) in these Archives.”

The next words float around a large eyes. “Something... bigger (bigger). I just... can’t figure it out.” A profile shot of Basira. “Basira’s given me the rest of Gertrude’s tapes, at least whatever was in evidence.” A shot of a door and a key with an eye. “Hopefully, they’ll allow me to piece together whatever is going on.” A shot of Michael, grinning impossibly with too-big hands. “But I need to be more careful.” A shot of the Web table. “I’m going to buy an axe and destroy the table.” round glasses and a C4 detonator lie on the ground, smoke surrounding them. “I am not losing anyone else.”

The next words frame a window that features a tall tower with an eye at the top--the Panopticon--that rises past the edges of the window and the above panels. The curtains fly in, and crouched on the floor amidst glass and paper is a kneeling silhouette with one visible eye that looks directly at the viewer, a single tear rolling down the whole of their face. “Maybe I can stop whatever is going on. If it’s not already too late.” Finally, a closeup of Jon’s fingers hitting a button on the tape recorder. “Statement ends.” End ID]

ID Credit - @princess-of-purple-prose

Minor ID corrections by me

[wrens-wramblings]

Happy Jurgen Leitner death day !!!

JURGEIN LEITNER?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JURGEIN LEITENER GOD DAMN FOOL BOOK COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING JURGEIN LEITNER

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT JURGEIN LEITENER I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP BOOKS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said jurgein leitners waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

if i have to deal withello jon Apologies for the deception, but I rather wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself. I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private. I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself

[jonahfagnus]

Jon re-ends the world. Destroys most of it, really, after he consumes the entities/becomes them/Becomes. Then he rebuilds. He intends to make the people he cares for happy, which includes himself, so he does not bring Peter Lukas back. Martin's mother does not get sick, and she is good enough. Mary Keay unexpectedly dies during the birth of her son, and Eric Delano raises him. Michael Shelley and Helen Richardson remain themselves, untwisted. He makes many changes, but mostly keeps things the same.

As for himself, he creates a hidden place. Hidden from ordinary eyes, anyways; he can See everything now.

This place he creates is a field, and a forest, with a river in it. It's nice. He relaxes, Knowing nothing will sneak up on him, Knowing nothing unexpected will ever happen again. He Knows everything, and everything is as it should be.

Well.

There is one problem, he thinks, curled up on his 'bed', a mostly flat area of the cave he deigns as his home, covered in created furs and blankets and long scrawls of paper that he summons when he sleeps and cannot suppress the instinct to write down everything.

He has no anchors. This has rendered him some sort of beast-thing, solid to the touch but rendered out of infinitely dark ink, all fur, antlers, strong paws and sharp claws and fangs, and Eyes like storms and fires and death and webs, on him and around him. One night (one of the 3.675 hours of sleep he has gotten since he reincarnated himself), he was startled awake by a sudden sound, and had opened every Eye he had, giving himself a painful migraine for what was just a branch falling from a tree during high winds.

There are very few solutions to this problem. Martin is not the Martin he knew, and besides he does not want to drag him into this. Nobody on this Earth has been touched by the Fears, and if he can help it, nobody ever will be. Passive fear of being watched and spiders and death is more than enough for him. He would love a statement, but nobody alive remembers enough to give him one.

Of course, there is always Jonah.

Jon has Known since he began reshaping the world that Jonah would not be bested by his efforts to remove the memories of the apocalypse. Besides, he much prefers a world without Jonah in it (and when the parts of himself that are very firmly Beholding and Archives tell him this is a Lie, he vehemently refuses it.)

Although, for all he'd done to Jon, he also Knows that Jonah would be the only one who could truly understand him.

Those are his second and third problems with finding someone he used to know and asking them to help him. They would never understand; and they would not be Jonah. They wouldn't be the Pupil, the Heart - arguably Jon's Heart now that he's also the Eye. That thought in particular both calms him and furthers the storm in his mind.

He Knows he needs an anchor, much as he tries to deny it. He doesn't know how to handle this much power, and every day he grows more unstable, his internal Archive growing disorganised and himself unstable. Jonah - even if Jon only talks to him once, to gain this information, even if Jon kills him again after - Jonah is the only one who can tell him. Jonah made him, even if he didn't make him this. Jonah is the only one.

Ultimately he/the Eye/the Archive lasts a month and a half without him.

On the edges of the forest he situates a cabin. He doesn't care about how there is electricity or running water or heating; he orders it to be so, and it is.

Then he presses into his/the Eye's memory and Looks for Jonah. Every single scrap he can find, coalescing it into a concept, and turning this concept into a mindscape, and he/the Flesh creates a body for this mindscape, and he puts the concept/mindscape/body/Jonah in the living room, lying on the sofa, and he waits. Observes.

Jonah (and it is Jonah, Jon made sure to give him his original body) is asleep, at first. This is fine. Jon can tell the body he/the Flesh made is alive. Heart beats. Breathing, rhythmic, calm. Muscle twitch, reflexive. Neuron fires once, twice, millions, as the concept/mindscape/Jonah settles into his new body, becomes familiar. Chemical flickers, transports. Anxious, confused, groggy. Awake. Hands, arms, tense, sitting up. Jonah blinks, and rubs his eyes, and says "Jon?"

Jon doesn't stop Looking, because he doesn't see a reason to, but he stands and begins to make his way towards the cottage before remembering that he can simply Lie to the world, tell it he is already there, and make that True. He stands on his hind legs, uncomfortable, pushes open the front door, pun in that.

Jonah startles. Confused, curious at his Archive's new form, anxious, did he die, did Jon kill him?

"Yes." Jon says from a tape recorder on the table. There is no point clarifying Jonah's question; they both Know.

Jonah attempts to push into his mind. Jon stops him, effortless. He does not explain that there is far too much information for him to handle, far too much information for Jon, does not explain that he needs Jonah's help. Jonah doesn't ask. Jon approaches him.

Chemical fire. Sympathetic nervous system activates, fight or flight, as Jonah notices Jon's teeth. Jon smiles, although it mostly looks like he/the Hunt is baring his teeth, ready for a fight. Muscles tense. Heartrate increases. Breathing speeds up. Jon does not stop approaching. Jonah does not ask him to; he wants to, Jon Knows this without even trying, but he does not.

Jon climbs onto the sofa and carefully places his head on Jonah's lap. Mostly soft fabric against his cheek. The Heart blinks a little, surprise, confusion. Chemical response; endorphin release, feels like fondness. Likens Jon to a cat. Jon laughs; Jonah is "privately" amused. Jonah moves his hand down to pet him.

The moment they make skin on skin contact Jon's mind goes completely silent. He doesn't know how Jonah's done that, and isn't sure he needs to right now.

"Oh," he says, from the tape recorder still. And then "oh," again, quieter, now that he has the space to feel relief, feel the migraine he didn't realise he had fading.

There is no more rapid information intake, no more constant attempts to discard useless information and primarily failing due to his purpose/existence as the Archive/the Beholding. Jon does not Notice the way he begins purring, the way his tail begins flicking in a happy way, the way Jonah is even more fond of him for all of these things. He observes them, independent from his nature as the Archive, and catalogues them easily. He sighs, relaxes. Jonah kisses him on the forehead and it's so soft, so affectionate, that Jon doesn't even notice that that's what he did, simply cataloguing it away with everything else until a couple seconds after the fact. He frowns, a little.

"You need to relax, Jon. It's okay. You've done very well for us."

It is so nice to be told that. Jon whines in the back of his throat. Something feels painful. His stomach? He briefly checks but no, his body is fine. Jonah laughs, and wipes away Jon's unnoticed tears, not necessarily joy or sadness, just emotion. Then, almost polite in the way he sticks to the edges of Jon's frayed and tired mind/Archive, informs him that his tears look like streams of stars.

Jon shifts so that he can bury his face into Jonah's chest. He catalogues it all; the way the fabric feels against his face, the way that Jonah smells, the way his hands run through Jon's fur, the way Jonah smiles, the way that Jonah presses their foreheads together so that he can give full clarity to the Knowledge that Jonah is so, so proud of him. Jon sobs.

"I killed you," he whispers. His voice is hoarse with tears and static.

"I know." Jonah says, and there is fear in that, and Jon takes it without really thinking. Jonah seems happy about it, though. "But you brought me back."

"I-" Jon doesn't want to admit it. He really doesn't. Jonah doesn't make him say it, either, doesn't Look in Jon's internal Archive for it. He just waits. "I needed you."

"Why?" Jonah says, quiet and gentle. It's not cruel, not asked to push Jon, and it soothes Jon's tears. Jonah genuinely doesn't understand why Jon would need him, now that Jon is Truly all powerful. It is a rare moment, and Jon takes a moment to Archive it properly.

"You're the only one who understands me. The-" Jon takes a deep breath, not wanting to start crying again. "Nobody I knew, before, would've wanted me, like this. But, you…"

Jonah doesn't say anything. He just keeps petting Jon, and it is quiet, a cool balm to his exhausted mind after the storm that was Knowing everything. Jon closes his eyes, and his Eyes, and finally, finally falls asleep.

(When Jon wakes up, he is in bed. He opens some Eyes and finds Jonah in the kitchen, making breakfast, humming a song Jon could identify but doesn't. When he checks his Archives for any pertinent information from his dreams, he instead finds some well filed Information, detailing how, exactly, he should get used to Seeing everything, and some hypotheses on how, if he intends to, to return to his human form.

"Thank you." he says from a tape recorder spawned onto the kitchen side. Jonah smiles.

"I love you too, Jon," all gentle and fond. Jon doesn't bother examining what it means that Jonah has responded with that, as though there's any need, as though they don't both already Know, as though Jon won't keep ignoring it and Jonah won't keep making him confront it. He just closes his Eyes and goes back to sleep.)

[gammija]

Jon: "Honestly, I panicked. Daisy's name came up first on my phone."

if that's because he went through his contacts in alphabetical order, that means he has Daisy in his phone as Alice. which i think is a v Jon thing to do

(Or his contacts came up based on the most recent, which would also make sense, but it could still be both!)

Basira: "None of us are who we were, Jon."

Jon: "No. I suppose not. In many ways it’s simpler now isn’t it? At least now our demons have names."

I wonder what demons of his own Jon's thinking about, that he didn't have a name for before the Institute

-

This statement on its own isn't the most flashy, but I really like how it puts the rest of this half of the season into stark contrast. Even though most people will be a lot more willing to forgive Jon for what he does than this statement giver, it still raises the question of, why exactly?

Is it just that she causes her victims to die, and he doesn't? How far does that go? How much suffering are you morally 'allowed' to cause other people if it saves your own life, if it saves other people?

How much does the 'good' these Avatars do in the world matter, compared to the pain they cause? Are they even doing good? The statement giver comes off as a conceited person too caught up in her own rationalisations to judge her actions clearly... though, might that not go for Jon as well? Now that he knows that you can quit the Institute, he can't even say that he has no choice but to take statements or he'll waste away - he has at least a chance to get out, too. A horrible one, but it IS an option. One that he explicitly decides not to try, at least not without Martin.

-

@a-mag-a-day last thought: Actually gouging an eye out with an awl isn't the hardest thing... Going through with gouging out the second one, is.

[korn-dogz]

You taste like the forth of July

Malt liquor on your breath my my….

Fred durst x Reader

WARNINGS: just fluff with our Freddie D

Summary: Fred drunkly confess his feeling for you

You and Fred had been Fred’s for years now, he’s always been a bit flirty but you didn’t care you thought he was joking, Fred had invited you to party with him one day, he kept on talking about how amazing it would be if you came with him

“Cmon, it’s gonna be even better with you here Y/N” he protested to you on the phone

“Ok fine, I’ll go, but you’re driving me” you finally gave in to Fred, I mean, who could say no to his pretty face?

“Yes! I’ll drive you! Y/N I’ll pick you up in 3 hours byeee~” you bid your goodbyes to him as you hang up the phone, the way his voice sounded at the end was so korny but you giggled at it, you decided to pick out a nice outfit for this party, not too nice just something nice, after all if Fred’s the one inviting you to a party there’s gonna be drinking so you didn’t want a good outfit it get ruined. It was around 6:50 when you heard your doorbell ring, you opened it to find it was Fred “oh hey Freddie! You’re ten minutes early, I’m finishing getting ready right now” you just finished getting on the top you where gonna wear, you still had your sweatpants on “well, even when you’re not ready you still look as beautiful as always” you rolled your eyes at him and smiled widely “shut up Fred” you let him in as he closes the door behind you

“I’m not joking Y/N you look beautiful” Fred is siting on the arm of your couch. All you could do was look over at him and blush like a mad man “ok, I’m ready lets go” you pick up your small bag which had a couple things in it, fred holds out his hand for you to take “let’s go then, pretty” you playful took his hand playing along with his antics. He leads the two of you outside as he opens the passenger seat next to him ”after you” he smirks and holds the door open for you. “Such a gentleman” you hop into his car as he close the door, he gets into the car on the other side and starts the engine “where even is this place?” You put your seatbelt on as you question him “it’s a past the chick fill a that we go to” you are Fred always go to the chick fill a that was down the street, it became sort of, your meeting place.

You and Fred finally arrive at the place the party is being held at “it’s gonna be great I promise, I’ll introduce you to my friends” you get kinda nervous thinking that his Fred’s might not like you, you and Fred get out the car and head for the main door, fred opens the door for you ��thanks Freddie” you playfully say, you walk past him and he follows behind you “ok which one do you wanna meet first, Jon or wes?” You didn’t know any of them but you decided to go with Jon

Fred walks you over to where this Jon guy is, you see him with 4 other people “hey! Jon!" Fred shouts over the Puls music, Jon turns around and so do the people around him “oh, hey Fred, whose this?" Jon looks over at you “this is my friend Y/N!“ Fred says excitedly "it’s nice to meet you Y/N, I’m Jonathan and these are my friends munky, David, fieldy, and head” Jonathan points to all of them as he says their names “it’s nice to meet you all, Fred made me come here but it’s cool to see he has friends that isn’t me” Jonathan and his Fred’s laugh a bit at your statement

“Pssshhh whatever let’s go for drinks yeah?” Fred pats your back, he seems drunk but he hasn’t even had a drink yet. All of you guys agree and you head over to the bar, everyone places their order of drinks and waits for it to arrive “you look beautiful tonight” one of Jonathan friends says to you, which you recognized as Jonathan called the guy ‘head’ “oh thank you” you smiled at head and you two continued taking for half the time, you got to know him as a nice guy who plays guitar, but you feel a tap on your shoulder and it was Fred he looked drunk out of his mind, you wouldn’t know since you haven’t been paying attention to how many drinks he had “Y-Y/N c-can I see you in aaaanother r-room” Fred slurred his words as he spoke “oh, okay, head I’ll be right back, I think" you got off your seat and followed Fred to an empty room in a secluded part of the bar “Fred what is this place?” you look around the room he lead you two to, it wasn’t very big but enough to fit a small amount of people, you have your back tuned to Fred as you feel his hands on your shoulders to turn you around. You look at him with a confused face as he pushes you against a wall "ah! Fred what are you doing?!” You got a little nervous as he didn’t respond to your question

“Y/N…. W-When I saw head taking to you and flirting with you I-I’d made me jealous, I know t-that you don’t pick up on flirting like o-other people do” you hadn’t known that head was flirting you but know that you thought of it, he was "o-oh, I didn’t notice that he was flirting with me fred” you hated how you stuttered in the first word “Y/N…… I’m sorry that I-I waited this long to tell you this” he stoped to hiccup and continued on “I-I uh, I actually really really like you, and I not just in a friend way, you always helped me when I was at my lowest and needed someone to help me, you where always so patient and kind to me, and I want to return the favour by” there was a long pauses in his sentence before he continued “being yours…. Your boyfriend” Fred looked at you with worried but with lust in his eyes “Fred…. I actually like you too, I always have, I always liked the way you complimented me almost every day. You’re the guy I wanted to be with, you’re probably drunk tho huh? You don’t know what you’re saying but it’s nice to hear from the guy I love” Fred smiles and kisses you “I may be a bit drunk.. but I mean what I said Y/N” he cups your face and kisses you more passionately 

You smile against his lips “a bit?” You laugh and pull away but you quickly pull him back in for another kiss “god, I love you so much” Fred whisperers through you two making out, you pull away from him, your lips aching to feel his again "do you want to head back to my place?” Fred looked at you with a happy expression "yeah! let me j-just go tell the other guys that I’m leaving” you nodded as Fred walked out the room, fred headed over to the guys in Korn “hey guys, me and Y/N are leaving" he leaned over at head “don’t flirt with her again” Fred left without saying another word

"Hey Fred! You ready?” You waited outside his car and he headed towards you “yup” he opened the drives side “woah! What are you doing? You’ve been drinking a lot Fred, let me drive” Fred whined as you put him in the passenger seat.

You arrived at your house as you had to help Fred up the stairs to your room, you open the door to your room and place Fred down on the bed before he collapses on you “your room is nice…” Fred looks around the room “you’re acting like you’ve never seen it before” you chuckle and hop in bed with him “you ready to sleep?” He lays down beside you and nodes his head sleepily, you smile at him as you get under the blanket and move closer to him and turn over to face him, you feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer to him “good night Fred” you kiss the side of his head as he mumbled nothing into your neck “I love you Y/N” you can feel him smile against your neck as you both fall asleep in each others arms.

[jackoshadows]

As a Jon fan, I’m curious about your take on this. In Jon’s dying thoughts, when he remembers Ygritte saying “you know nothing,” it comes right before his memory of Arya and right after his memory of Salsa. Stans of you know what ship say it came right after the memory of Salsa because Jon subconsciously associates Ygritte with her instead of Arya (lol). I’m a Jonerys shipper but it pusses me off when people try to diminish Arya’s importance to Jon. I think it was supposed to be juxtaposed before his memory of Arya, not after his memory of Salsa, because the text literally states that Ygritte reminds Jon of Arya and she’s clearly the most important thing to him in these dying moments. What do you think of this theory from shippers of you know what? Do you think that line is where it is specifically because of Arya, or is it just random?

Yes, this has been discussed numerous times in fandom and others have already explained the themes and meanings behind Jon's reaction to the letter countless times. It makes no difference to the same idiots who use Jon's ''What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?' statement for Sansa. As pointed out many times, the entire basis for the Jonsa ship is replacing Arya with Sansa because her character functions better as a tradfem self-insert.

Again,

Jon flexed the fingers of his sword hand. The Night’s Watch takes no part. He closed his fist and opened it again. What you propose is nothing less than treason. He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon’s breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady’s coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird’s nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …  “I think we had best change the plan,” Jon Snow said. - Jon, ADwD

I mean the themes are right there. There is also a possible Watsonian and Doylist implication/foreshadowing in this paragraph.

Bowen Marsh tells Jon this:

What you propose is nothing less than treason. For eight thousand years the men of the Night's Watch have stood upon the Wall and fought these wildlings. Now you mean to let them pass, to shelter them in our castles, to feed them and clothe them and teach them how to fight.

Maester Aemon tells Jon this:

“Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel," the old man had said, "the same counsel I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne. A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born." The old man felt Jon's face. "You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born.”

Ygritte tells Jon this:

"We'll go back to the cave," he said. "You're not going to die, Ygritte. You're not." "Oh." Ygritte cupped his cheek with her hand. "You know nothing, Jon Snow," she sighed, dying.

Jon is thinking about what to do, what choice to make - do nothing or take down Ramsay Bolton.

He remembers Bowen Marsh talking about breaking the laws of the Night's Watch and recalls Robb as he saw him the last time with snowflakes in his hair. Jon was first tempted to desert the NW for Robb and yet returned and decided to stay at the Watch no matter what. He also refuses Stannis offer of Winterfell - where his memories and thoughts of Robb was a big part of his angst and conflict of whether he should accept. He remained steadfast in his oaths both times.

He recalls Maester Aemon's advice of killing the boy and letting the man be born - it's about being hard, making the tough choices, do one's duty no matter how painful - he thinks back to his family that he did not and cannot help by law. He did kill the boy and put duty over love.

And finally he thinks back to Ygritte and 'you know nothing' - the girl with tangled hair who reminded him of Arya and who dies in his arms because he stuck to his oaths. Ygritte died... is he okay with the same happening to Arya because his oaths are more important?

The answer this time is a resounding no.

There is also a meta connection here.

He connects Bowen Marsh's words of treason with memories of Robb Stark. Robb was famously betrayed and killed by his own men, just like Marsh will end up doing to Jon Snow

Maester Aemon does not help his family, is unable to help his family despite knowing they were in trouble and Jon connects his words with his own family and being unable to help.

And finally Ygritte - his lover, the girl he loved and lost and who dies because he chose duty over love. And Jon connects her last dying words with Arya, reads Ramsay's threats and this time, this time chooses different.

There is also a parallel of sorts here where Arya decides to hide Needle. I talked here about how Needle is Arya's identity as Arya Stark of Winterfell, daughter of the North and the Faceless Men give her an ultimatum on becoming No One.

“It’s just a sword,” she said, aloud this time … … but it wasn’t. Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell’s grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan’s stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow’s smile. He used to mess my hair and call me “little sister,” she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes. [—-] The gods wanted me to have it. Not the Seven, nor Him of Many Faces, but her father’s gods, the old gods of the north. The Many-Faced God can have the rest, she thought, but he can’t have this.

Just like Jon does, Arya goes down that list and includes her father and mother for good measure - Robb, Bran, Rickon, Catelyn, Ned and even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell, it's people, Old Nan and her stories, the heart trees.

Needle was Jon Snow's Smile... and that's when she decides that the Gods want her to have Needle and she is not going to throw it away.

So yeah, it's always Arya that Jon connects to Ygritte - her body, her hair, her personality (stubborn etc.) and it's Arya who finally pushes Jon to lead an army of Wildlings against the Warden of the North.

[cyborg-empress]

I really wanted to make a post about The Magnus Archives because I'm going crazy about this podcast and need to share my thoughts. Season 4 spoilers under the cut!

Ok so this is about Jon in Mag 142 - Scrutiny.

I love this episode. The voice acting is amazing and the statement/complaint is super well written.

First off, what Jon did is awful. He completely ruined her life and that's so not alright. The statement giver said she was doing fine and he took that away from her. Like dude, not ok, what the hell.

But the problem is I just go so dang excited when I listened to the episode. I like Jon so much he's totally my favorite character and this episode actually just made me love him more. Not as a person, cuz he's getting more morally grey by the second, but as an amazing character.

I realized that this is the first statement we got where Jon is actually the "evil" force of the episode. It's always him taking the statements of the horrors of the Fears and Avatars but now it's a statement about him. And I just ahhhh I love it so much. Horrifying? Absolutely. But I love the fact that he's losing his humanity to the point where he really is becoming a monster! It is just so interesting and exactly where I was hoping the podcast would go from a story perspective. Like oh no my poor guy but also just yessss. I just love slow corruption arcs (not the fear, the moral kind) so so much. I think villains are so interesting and seeing Jon go in that direction a bit makes me very excited, even if it's really not good for him as a person and I do actually want him to be happy.

Also the fact that he is using his powers? Just so cool!!! He's so freaking creepy I love him. Just sitting in the corner like a weirdo?And "He's all eyes" ? I am kicking and screaming. (To be clear I am in no way excusing his actions I just think it's neat).

The Martin and Daisy convo about Jon's trauma response was also just so *chef's kiss*. Him being reckless to feel in control and because he's self destructive due to guilt is simply amazing character development that makes me just feel worse for Jon. And make me love him more of course.

From what I've read under the tag for this MAG, this episode made a lot of people like Jon less but it just made me love him more.

I know I'm super duper late to the podcast but I'd love people's thoughts! I'm totally aware that I'm just rambling on and being a Jon apologist. I just didn't feel the need to do any super insightful media analysis because so many other people have done some excellent break downs of this episode.

No spoilers please tho I'm only on MAG 157 as of writing this (but I hope to finish the season really soon).

Thank you so mush for reading my ramble! I'm so obsessed with this podcast. I love Jon so much.

[avatorofthelonely]

re: “Martin. I’m too tired to explain this in detail. But it has less to do with how he is in canon and more of the fandom’s failure to acknowledge or even see some of Martin’s more toxic behavior.”

can you explain this a little more? i think you’re right, martin’s been a little blorbofied too much because a lot of people identify with him very heavily and are unwilling to recognize his faults, but i’d be interested in your thoughts

Me: I don’t feel like explaining this.

Anons: so 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ do it anyway 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

I jest, but I’m gonna preface this with a few things:

1) as it pertains to what I’m about to say about Martin, I don’t think he’s the most toxic character nor is this anti Martin or Martin hate. I’m simply exploring some of his less saviory aspects.

2) I do not hate or even dislike jonmartin, dare I say, I even enjoy it from time to time. No relationship is perfect and it is important to identify toxic behaviors in relationships in media.

3) to the second anon, we’re clearly never gonna agree on my love, Georgina Barker, I’ve already stated why I like her narratively and don’t feel like repeating myself.

Okay, on to Martin.

Simply put, he’s canonically pretty manipulative (including manipulative towards Jon). He even calls out himself to himself for manipulating himself when he went into the lonely during the eyepocalypse.

Annabelle fucking Cane, the person literally manipulating the whole of the plot, all but calls him manipulative and considered him for an avatar of the web in mag 196:

Also as it pertains to JonMartin, Jon does exhibit his own somewhat toxic behaviors but I’m just focusing on Martin for this post.

Martin does somewhat gaslight Jon at times. Notably the “I know I asked you to go on a smiting spree but you’re the one who’s wrong for doing it.” He also looks to Jon so many times to pas his ego and self esteem and frankly — it’s just not healthy to be a therapist to your s/o in this way.

I also understand why Martin isn’t comfortable with Jon’s statements or certain aspects of his power but Jon goes out of his way to help Martin with aspects of being attached to the lonely and I just think to some extent it’s not reciprocated on Martin’s part.

There’s a few more things I could say but I’m honestly worried the hardcore Martin/JonMartin stans are already gonna come for me on this one.

[sm0kebreaks]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Additional Tags: Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Canon Asexual Character, Sex-Neutral Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Alternate Universe - Regency, Location: Somewhere Else (The Magnus Archives), Vaginal Fingering, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives) Summary:

“I miss my vibrator.” It’s a very matter-of-fact statement. There were so many things Martin had been wracking his brain thinking the problem could be but none of them were close to that. He sputters and chokes before fully laughing. It’s such a relief. Jon props himself up looking absolutely betrayed. “Don’t laugh!” “Sorry! Sorry, I’m not! I mean, I am but– Not at you!” “Liar.” “No!” Martin wills his voice to sound a little less amused, “I just thought– You’re in a bad mood because you’re horny?”

[seoness]

(18+) Day 4 of Kinktober - Cheating

Smut | (Book!)Sandor Clegane x Female | Romance & established friendship Background: You are the third child of Tywin and Joanna Lannister and wed to Tybolt Crakehall, heir to Lord Crakehall. The events occur years before the Game of Thrones, and Jon Arryn is still alive and well, serving as Hand of the King.

Reader: Confident, a bit unrefined/wild (think Lyanna Stark), and ambivalent when it comes to having children.

Simplification of birth-line: (Cersei and Jaime, then you, and lastly Tyrion)

This fanfiction is best enjoyed using a browser add-on like InteractiveFics.

The wheelhouse was immense. From the outside, it was a monstrosity of carved oak and gilded metal. Swallowed up by the beast you sat in its world of crimson. Crimson cushions, crimson tapestries, and a crimson-painted ceiling. The only light that wasn't afforded by the dimly lit golden lanterns was by the door left open, allowing a shard of daylight inside. The Hound, ever faithful, stood guard by the entrance to the lions' den. And how very packed it was.

Tyrion sat busy entertaining your nephew, while Jaime watched, leaning against one of the wooden pillars. Your sister, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, rested on one of the mountains of cushions, her belly swollen. Yet Cersei looked like no beached whale, graceful even so close to the birthing bed. It was a strange thing. Your older brother and sister had eyes that looked the same, the same emerald green befitting twins, yet meeting Cersei's gaze was nothing like looking into the eyes of Jaime.

"You are yet with child," Cersei noted.

"Am I to act surprised by that statement?"

Your sister was unamused as you slapped your own stomach. "No clever tongue will shield you from the whispers of being barren."

Tyrion's attention had left Joffrey, and from the corner of your eye, you could see the pained smile. Great, even he pitied you. Ride all the way to King's Landing to be a guest at one of the King's many royal hunts only for it to turn into a pity party.

Snatching off the flagon of Dornish red from the table you refilled your cup, taking a hearty sip.

"Do you know how many bastards my Lord Husband has produced?" you asked your sister, but the only bashful in that wheelhouse were the men. "Not the one, and not from a lack of trying mind you." You looked up at Jaime, a smile came to his lips though it seemed more a habit than anything else. "Does the look of spurned wife suit me, brother?"

But Jaime didn't answer, and when the silence began to stretch Tyrion took up the duty, "Better than others, sweet sister."

So that is why Cersei wanted you to come to her. Father did enough grumbling about your lack of children without her help.

"Well, I shall not make a babe here." With a groan, you took to your feet. "Does a Kingsguard have time to go for a ride?"

Jaime glanced down at Cersei, it was enough for you to know the answer before he said it, "As the Queen's protector, I must remain by her side."

"I thought you were her protector, Clegane?" you called out, turning towards the door.

"Seems her dog is becoming Joff's," Tyrion said, jutting back his head as your hand came down and the slap to his head barely missed its target.

"Don't be rude, it is an ugly trait."

"Think he calls me his sweetling?" Tyrion said.

No longer under the watchful eye of his uncle, Joffrey filled his small fist with one of the pages from the book that Tyrion had been reading aloud. It would have been kinder mercy for the boy to have hit his uncle in the groin. A slew of curses left Tyrion's lips as he ripped the book out of the boy's hand.

"Perhaps the match isn't so poor after all. This one will take after you Dog!"

Unwise. Not something a prince, let alone a boy of four would stand for.

His bright wail made you grit your teeth, "I want it! I want it!"

The inside of the wheelhouse grew darker as the light from the door disappeared. The Hound leaned inside the lion's den, the scowl setting deeper as they landed on his prince.

"Has your watch already begun?" Tyrion asked dryly.

Clegane's gaze traveled, locking on the book in your brother's hands. "Dragons? Give him the book, not like it do anyone any good."

"So he reads," your brother gasped. "I'm not your squire, the book is mine. Step aside."

"I heed His Grace's wish, not yours, little lord."

Screw the book. This screaming continued and you'd leave the wheelhouse deaf. Was this what you were missing out on? Having some banshee crawl out of you? Joffrey's scream grew louder still as you picked him up and walked to his mother.

"Do something," you said, seating the banshee down beside her.

Cersei's arm laid themself around her son's shoulders, pulling him to her breast, cooing. The Hound stepped to the side as you jumped out of the wheelhouse.

Cersei's voice rang out behind you, "See to my sister's safety, Clegane."

"Yes, Your Grace."

Some good news. He wouldn't give you condolences, well wishes, or offer for some maester or the other to brew you some queer concoction. It had been years since last, and unlike you, he had not changed.

Tyrion jumped out after you, his book still safely tucked under his arm.

"Are you to be with us, brother?"

His mismatched eyes squinted up at the man beside you. "I fear with your newfound pet, it will be little fun."

Tyrion Lannister marched away, disappearing among the pavillions of the camp. Everywhere banners flew, the stag of Baratheon, the roaring lion of Lannister, and countless more. When the King wanted to go for a hunt, the court followed.

"What do you call him?" you asked.

"Nothing he hasn't heard before, my lady."

"My lady?" you repeated, frowning up at him. "Don't tell me court managed to ruin even you?"

Clegane's lips pressed into a thin line. It was a mistake. The door of the wheelhouse was still open and you doubted years as Queen had made your sister less insistent on titles.

Walking away, he took to you as a shadow.

"Are you treated well?" you asked, keeping your voice low so no one else but him could hear.

Clegane only shrugged in response. He had changed. Even him. Of course, he had. It was a silly dream, to think he'd be like before. Talk with you the same.

"I would have written but it..." you couldn't finish the excuse.

What good was there to apologize for something that never even was? Another silly dream, an old dream, one you had always known would never be fulfilled. No daughter of a High Lord could ever wed the second son of a landed knight. You had longed all the same and had you been stronger, you would have kept your distance and not made him a friend. It was selfish. Cruel.

Shaking your head, you willed a smile to your lips. "Do you still have that stallion?"

Clegane kept his silence, nodding.

Steering your steps to the hitching posts at the edge of camp there it was. The black destrier had been tied far away from the others, nibbling away at the grass. If Clegane had told you that he had found Stranger at one of the gates to the Seven Hells, you would have been inclined to believe him. The horse perked up, hooves stomping as it caught the scent of its master.

"Looks a bit slow," you said and the smile required less will to keep as Clegane cocked his brow.

The wind nipped at your cheeks, the sand steed nimble between your legs, taking to the forest path like a flow of silk. Behind, thunder rolled, the Hound appearing by the last bend as you took to the next. Right. Left. Right. You urged the mare on as the path began to straighten.

You could have gone on forever. Ride until the sea greeted you, to feel truly alive for just a bit longer... Your mount came to a halt. Trees gave way to a clearing and patches of forget-me-knots dotted the grass. The quiet peace abruptly ended as the Hound joined your side, the plate of his armor clammering and mail chirring.

Leaning in your saddle, a huff left him as you knocked at his steel-clad chest. "Blame the plate, it slows you down."

But there was no quip in return.

You stomached the silence to the edge of the clearing. "You know, I am having this growing suspicion that the only reason my loving sister invited me to King's Landing was to see two people that hate one another more than her and her husband."

But if he didn't want to banter with you, he'd want far less of your complaints. Him, then?

"So sworn sword to our Crown Prince, our future King. Not a poor position," you tried.

"Good gold," he said.

No further attempts were made to break the silence. At least the Hound's stubbornness hadn't changed.

The sound of drums and hollering of men traveled through the forest. Hunting parties had been sent out by King Robert Baratheon to drive the game out from hiding. It felt rude. Disrupting the silence of the forest for the sake of having a boar on a spit.

"Best ride around them," Clegane said.

You allowed him to lead, always taking the fork in the road that drove you further away from the beating of pans and drums.

Being mistaken for a boar would have been preferred.

You heard them before you saw them. Light giggles and laughter. Drunk laughter, one which you recognized far too well. A large tarp had been stretched from tree to tree in one of the clearings. All around, destriers and palfreys stood tied to trees. Chairs and cushions were strewn across the grass.

A woman sat in your husband's lap, her left hand raking through the dark hair. Not that he much cared, eyes fixed on her bare breast. King Robert was not one for being frugal, seating one woman on each leg, his face all but gone in the bosom of the largest. There were more. All tended to.

"Best turn back," the word's left Clegane like a curse.

"Why? I have nothing to be ashamed for," you replied and pressed your heels at the sides of your mount.

Finally, Tybolt took note. There was no surprise in the eyes of your Husband. With a pat on her back, the woman left his lap, and your beloved Lord Husband had at least the decency to pull down his tunic to spare you from the sight of where his breeches pulled taut. Joining you at the edge of the clearing, only glancing to the Hound at your side, his nose scrounging

"You miss me, dear Lady Wife?"

"Where is the hunt taking you?" you asked.

"North it seems."

More had begun to take note of you. More decent men, or at least those still pretending, drifted away from the women in their arms. King Robert had yet lifted his head, too busy in his exploration. A staleness began to grow on your tongue.

You looked down at your husband, his hand had found your thigh, stroking as if any touch of his was soothing.

"Then I wish you good fortune, Lord Husband, but my venture takes me south."

Another voice rang, "I fear our company is my work, Lady y/n."

Lord Renly had made his way through the crowd, the only man there yet fully dressed.

"Do not bother yourself with making some excuse, Lord Renly. My Lord Husband would not," you replied cooly and returned your attention to Tybolt. "May at least your hunt be fruitful, my love."

The hunter's camp had long gone, sooner or later you would need to turn around, but there was always an excuse. An oak ahead you needed to see up close, a farm to stop and water the horses, and orchards rich in fruit so ripe it made the air sweet.

Clegane's snort made you jolt, for hours he had only been a shadow, "Wed to a fool."

You glanced over your shoulder, his jaw clenched and brow low but the grey eyes did not meet yours.

"Then I would rather hear about the man that is not," you said, pulling at the reigns so he could join at your side. "Go on ... you could at least look at me."

He heeded your wish, the eyes so fierce it even made you shrink in the saddle. "I'm a sworn sword, not a mummer," he muttered.

Fine, you could pry as long as he answered.

"Have you wed?" you tried, making a chuckle leave him. "It is a serious question."

"Not been bothered by Lady Tanda Stokeworth and she's invited all but smallfolk to try and wed her daughter."

"Then we are both cursed with the company of fools," you said. "Don't dare say I am like them."

"Few are."

"I wouldn't say that. You are a rarer breed," you replied. "Honest."

"Turned liar?" he asked, but there was a strangeness to his voice you couldn't place.

"I lie anytime I greet my Lord Husband and don't kick out his teeth. All he and his brothers care about is having songs made after them," you laughed. "Gods, if I had your strength I doubt I would be as kind as you."

Rubbing your face, you tried to rid the anger but it only made you chuckle again, "I think my sister is plotting to kill my husband. She was rather unimpressed by the dinner last night."

"Think I'll weep for the bugger's death?" Clegane replied.

"I would only be expected to wed his brother."

"Another fool?"

"Less so, but it would not matter," you said. "No man can will himself into becoming another."

Your mount whinnied out as the Hound pulled Stranger to the front, blocking your path ahead. "Clegane?"

He swung off the back of his horse and walked up to the side of your sand steed. Clegane held his hand up to you and you felt it now, the tension you had kept back. It washed over you, filling you up, and for a brief moment, tears pushed.

"Wait," you piped but it was your hand that was drifting to his, it was you that had hinted. That had laid the crumbs.

"I've bloody waited," Clegane spat, his hand catching yours, ready to pull you down. "And for what? Content withering away in that fucking castle? One thing if it pleased you - if he pleased you - could have waited a long time then. So go on, tell me you're pleased y/n. Tell me those smiles of yours are true. Tell me."

"You're not being fair," but those words weren't for him.

"Not fair?" he repeated, making the burnt side of his face twitch. "Think the world some just place? Bugger that. Bugger them. Take what you bloody well please."

But you didn't want to be like them, like the man you wed or that of your sister. How many handmaidens hadn't you sent away? A lucky few had loved your Lord Husband and you were nothing more than a cold shrew of a wife in their eyes, and there were those who had done their duty. Some had come to you before anything had happened, who gladly took service in another house. All in all, why your husband found comfort in them did not matter. He tossed them all aside, you never needed to press much. Clegane... Sandor wasn't that. You couldn't make him into that.

"If this... if we are found it will not be my head that is taken," you pleaded.

"Could die for worse," his attempt at comfort made a pained sigh leave you.

How utterly typical him, not even now he cooed some lie. Sold you some dream.

"Your life is not a price I am willing to pay," you said, your throat tightening. "A Lannister always pays their debt, to others that might be a brag but to us, it is a reminder. We do not tally up debts we cannot return."

"You'd be more than enough."

Around you rose trees of apples and pears, and not far from the orchard the forest emerged like a green wall. Anyone could be there. A guard, a servant that had wandered.

You squeezed his hand but he'd not feel it through the plate. "Not here. If you are to risk your head on my account, I'll certainly not make it easy for them to claim it."

The royal procession was like a snake, slithering its way back from the Kingswood. It had been a morning of luck, Cersei didn't offer you stay at the wheelhouse and made no protest when you requested for Sandor Clegane to be your sworn sword for the remainder of your stay. You had both waited for so long, but the last two days had been torture.

No one had questioned why the Hound hadn't worn his armor that morn or why you had donned your simplest dress. One in which only a single lace needed to be undone to make the cloth part.

The cart was small, and the screens had been pulled up to block the windows, but the sounds from outside seeped in. The talk, the laughter. Your heart raced as a curse left Sandor's lips. Keeping at his tip, your tongue swirled around it, making the legs around you tense. You kept at it, kissing along his length until his eyes met yours. Burning. The hands, gripping the sides of the seat, tightened as you allowed more of him into your mouth.

You heard Tybolt call out to one of his riders. Your Lord Husband, just outside the walls of your cart... the throb in your lower had been there since the orchard, but now it steered you. Made your hand drift up and close around Sandor's cock.

"Come here," he grunted, you bit your lip so as not to giggle when he lifted you up, seating you in his lap.

Your breath turned sharp as his hand found you, but Sandor didn't stay long.

"Never had a woman in heat," he whispered, his hand in full view of you both, the fingers glistening.

Rolling your hips, you felt him graze against you. It wasn't pretty, and you had too little patience for modesty. Grinding your hips, until his cock found you, his tip catching, and Sandor buried his grunt against your shoulder as you jerked down.

"Quiet," he hissed, the wood creaking around him as you did it a second time.

"The whisper in his ear made the whole body beneath you turn as rigid as stone. "Fuck me."

The cart shook, and one of the horses whinnied out. A cry left your lips as Clegane drove deep inside. His arms locked around your waist to keep you from falling off.

"My lady, is everything alright? The road ahead is quite rough," the voice of Tybolt could have made your heart stop.

He was speaking to you. Speaking while the one you have been dreaming of all these years filled you up in a way he'd never be able.

"Yes, no need to worry. I was only startled," you replied.

Gods, you were alive. This thrill, wasn't it wrong? Sandor's hips began to move and you saw it in his eyes too. Just as you knew something else to be true. You were his now. Fully his. Sandor's hands hooked onto your legs, spreading them so he could see all of you as he continued to slowly thrust in and out. Was Tybolt still on the other side of the screen?

"Your hunt? Was it as fruitful as you wish, Lord Husband?" you asked.

"It was, the King wishes to see the Crakehall lands. Though I believe he does not want too many lions present for the hunt," while Tybolt spoke you pulled Sandor to you, his lips locking with yours and you spared no time making your kiss deepen. "You made the lords present nervous when you rode up to us in the forest, but I told them of your agreeableness. They were quite impressed."

He truly was a fool. Since when was not caring a sign of devotion? You stifled the moan as Sandor's head lowered, his mouth catching the peak of your left breast. Sucking until the nipple was hard and aching against his tongue.

"What preparations would we need for a royal hunt?" you asked, struggling to keep your voice steady.

And so Tybolt Crakehall talked. He talked while Sandor's mouth tended your right breast just the same. Talked while you rested against your seat and suffocated the moans against the cushions while the Hound lived true to his name.

The smell of sewage was enough to tell that King's Landing was near. Your dress retied, and thrice you had reexamined Sandor's clothes for signs of what you had done.

The cart came to a halt, and the Hound opened the door. Helping you outside into the blinding light.

"A comfortable ride, my lady?" Tybolt asked and if it wasn't for his usual routine of being extra polite when caught with a women you would have thought the man knew.

You patted the side of his arm, smiling. "Truly," you replied, placing a light kiss on his cheek before walking towards the rest of your family.

The Hound followed you, his rasp low, "How loving of you."

You couldn't turn back, couldn't take his hand, or kiss him to show the difference.

Keeping your face still as if the two of you were talking of the most mundane things you answered him, "If you offer farewell kisses with me still on your lips, I wouldn't complain."

Thanks for reading!

[martin-kartin-blartin]

Scattered thoughts about mag 122 (Zombie) because I have so many of them

Georgie sat at Jon’s side for 6 months just to tell him that she doesn’t have faith in his humanity. Icon.

Basira grabbed a statement about zombies to bring to her dead boss

Her dead boss woke up to read his zombie statement

Oh my god this statement giver makes me want to scream

The way she definitely *did* have an interaction with the stranger but she’s also so antisocial that her assumption about everyone being hollow and having nothing behind their eyes could also just be the apathy towards the feelings of others she described at the beginning of her statement

Sometimes it’s the spiral but sometimes people are just. Regular human bad at human interactions and suffering from delusions

Jon canonically has bad fashion taste according to Basira and I think that’s important

Jon declines Basira’s offer for water before reading a statement but asked for water after. Reading statements makes you thirsty, canon

*THE WAY JON’S VOICE GETS SMOOTHER AS HE READS THE STATEMENT*

The way mr jarchivist was breathing and able to talk but chose not to until the girls started talking about tape recorders

“I feel… more real, somehow” “so what does that *actually* mean?”

You’re so right Basira what DOES that mean?

Anyway there’s so much going on in this one I’m not organizing my thoughts okay goodnight

[iamnmbr3]

About your anti-Martin-in-Season-5 post: I understand your position and I get how he seems like a different person to you, but keep in mind that they are both in a supremely difficult situation (and I know that other TMA situations have been stressful but this is the end of the world we’re talking about) and Martin has to deal with the fact that Jon is the one that caused it. And I’m not saying that’s healthy or good for their relationship, but we haven’t really seen Martin in that kind of situation before season 5. It makes sense that he’s a bit shitty about it (and less kind than in season 1, when relatively little had gone tits-up for him yet). PLUS he’s been forcibly attached to Jon at the hip for months now, which is a strain to put on any new relationship, especially when there’s all the preexisting issues to contend with, Martin hasn’t exactly been able to be alone with his thoughts about Jon starting the whole apocalypse. So yeah, he’s a bit spiteful and mean to Jon

Also re: the Upton house and Salesa, here Martin is INCREDIBLY relieved at being able to find somewhere he can feel human (eating, sleeping) again (at this point he still thinks of himself as human, I don’t think he knows about his Domain and if he does, it’s certainly not in any detail). So that’s almost definitely colouring his perception of Salesa and Annabelle, especially since he’s meeting Salesa for the first time and he’s being very charming (and saying the first uncomplicatedly nice thing Martin has heard in a very long time, and Annabelle’s not there to counteract that). I don’t have a good explanation for why Martin laughs at Jon when he’s so vulnerable, but I will say that he’s probably not unhappy to be away from Jon’s statements (he REALLY REALLY doesn’t like them and has probably heard more than his fair share), so that’s definitely a factor. And he’s relieved! Upton house was a (brief, but he didn’t really think about that yet) respite from the literal apocalypse happening outside

So personally I actually don't agree with a lot of this. Yes Martin is in a difficult position ins season 5 - they all are - but it's not Jon who caused the situation. It's Jonah. Jon was an unwitting victim. Martin blaming Jon is frankly horrible. But what bothers me much more is that the narrative presents Martin as being in the right, to the point that many fans started echoing that sentiment, even though it makes no sense and we are explicitly shown in canon that Jon is as much a victim as anyone else.

It's a horror story so Jon's relationship with Martin being destroyed or turning sour and downright abusive as it does isn't necessary a problem. Bad stuff happens in horror all the time. What I don't like is that the abuse is framed as ok.

And I also do feel it's ooc. Martin has been in plenty of stressful situations before. But he never once engaged in the type of behavior he engaged in in S5 or even tolerated other people treating Jon that way. Even in the first arc of S5 Martin doesn't treat Jon that way or victim blame him. It's starting in the second arc, when the writing takes a dive, that Martin's character and behavior also changes.

Upton House being a "respite" from the apocalypse doesn't really make sense. There's no in character reason for them to trust anything that's going on there or for them to feel relaxed. And Jon suffers horribly there but Martin doesn't care. Which again is ooc.

Also btw I hated the way Martin treated Jon's loss of autonomy due to having been made an Avatar against his will, and his dependence on statements which again Jon feels great distress over as an annoyance that he can mock Jon over. That's a horrible way to treat your partner. And again feels very ooc. and what's even more jarring tho is how this horrible treatment is presented as tho it's cute and fluffy and reasonable when it's not.

But yeah these are just some quick disorganized thoughts. I went into much more detail about why I think Martin is wildly ooc in arcs 2 and 3 of S5 here