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cherrrydragon · 5 months ago

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➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER NINE: WARMTH

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SUMMARY ↳ Gotham's getting colder. You think your life is getting warmer. Nightwing grins, flipping his escrima sticks with practiced ease. "Couldn't miss out on Gotham's winter wonderland, could I? Plus, I wanted to visit my favorite bug.” “Spiders aren’t bugs, they’re arachnids.” “That’s literally the same thing.” “It’s literally not.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none, i think wc: 3.4k

Snow comes early in Gotham, so by December it’s mostly snowing everyday. It feels like you’re in New York again, when the Christmas lights start appearing on trees and snowmen litter the parks. Gotham, true to its nature, stays colorless for the most part. However, Gotham Square provides quite the merry site. Your suit reflects the bright lights as you swing by.

Despite the holiday cheer, you can't let your guard down. Gotham's criminals have a knack for exploiting the city's festivities, and tonight is no exception. You notice a group of people gathered around a shop window, watching a live performance of animatronic figures reenacting a Christmas story. You land silently on a nearby rooftop, scanning the crowd below.

Karen’s voice crackles to life. "[Name], there's been a report of suspicious activity near the old ice rink. It seems someone is trying to steal the charitable donations collected for the orphanage."

"Got it," you reply, already changing direction. You launch yourself into the night, the cold wind biting through your suit. The streets blur beneath you as you make your way to the ice rink, the glow of Gotham Square fading behind you.

When you arrive, you find a group of thugs attempting to break into the donation booth. They are armed and clearly not expecting any resistance on a night like this. You drop down silently behind them.

"Planning to ruin Christmas for the kids, are we?" you hum, voice distorted and menacing. The thugs spin around, startled, but it's already too late for them.

You make quick work of the first few, your training and instincts taking over. A punch here, a kick there, and they are down before they know what hit them. One of the thugs tries to flee, but a well-aimed web takes him down, his body hitting the wall with a thud.

As you tie up the last of the unconscious criminals, you hear the distant chime of church bells, signaling the hour. You look up, seeing the first flakes of snow beginning to fall from the sky. You feel a sense of childlike wonder as the tiny white stars fall from the sky. You secure the donation booth, ensuring that the funds will be safe for the children who need them.

friendly behind you

“Aw, you beat me to it.”

Nightwing leans casually against the wall, escrima sticks in hand. You give Nightwing a nod, acknowledging his familiar presence. "Just cleaning up Gotham's holiday mess," you reply. "Didn't expect you to be in town."

Nightwing grins, flipping his escrima sticks with practiced ease. "Couldn't miss out on Gotham's winter wonderland, could I? Plus, I wanted to visit my favorite bug.”

“Spiders aren’t bugs, they’re arachnids.”

“That’s literally the same thing.”

“It’s literally not.”

Whenever Nightwing is in town (which seems to be more than usual) he takes it upon himself to accompany you whenever he can find you. You mostly just let him do his own thing. "Semantics aside, looks like you've got everything under control here," Nightwing remarks, glancing around at the subdued criminals. “So… how have you been?”

You’re about to swing away, but his question confuses you. “What?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Well, how are you doing? Is work good? Or do you go to school?”

He watches as the eyes of your suit deadpan at him. “...Yeah? Life’s good, I guess?” you reply, appalled.

“That’s good.” he beams. Then he inspects your suit like it’s personally offended him. “Are you sure that thing can keep you warm?”

“Are you sure that thing can keep you warm?” you sass, gesturing to his skin tight uniform. “There’s literally a built-in heater, I’m fine.”

He nods, looking to the side. It’s silent for a while, leaving you with your thoughts. Is he seriously trying to… parent you? You’re used to Steve or even Bucky mother henning you, not Dick Grayson. Don’t get it wrong, you like and respect the hell out of him. But he literally has no business trying to coddle you into his arms. It just makes no sense to you

“Well… it’s been fun,” you cough, turning around and webbing a building. “Bye,” and then your off. Nightwing sighs as his eyes follow you. As you disappear into the Gotham skyline, he looks down, twirling his escrima sticks absentmindedly.

“I see B’s adoption tendencies are hereditary,” chuckles Oracle in his ear.

“Shut up,” he hisses.

“Maybe I should just get him a dog or something,” bemoaned Jon, laid dramatically across your couch.

“Pretty sure someone will do that already,” comes your reply.

Jon likes hanging around in your apartment. You wonder if his parents are curious as to where he is all the time. He’s even started leaving some of his sweaters around (that you definitely don’t steal, no way). He groaned dramatically, rolling over to look at you upside down. "You're supposed to be supportive," he mumbled, voice muffled by the cushions.

Jon has decided he needs your council in getting Damian a Christmas present. “Well, you shouldn’t get him anything to do with, like, chores or work.” You walk over and sit on his stomach. He can take it, he’s a big boy. He curls an arm under his head and rests on it. “That’s gift-giving number one.”

“What can I give him that he couldn’t just buy anyway?” he huffs.

“Something personal,” you hum, brushing his curls out of his face. “Something custom, even. He likes art. Make him something yourself.”

Jon perks up a bit at your suggestion, contemplating the idea. "Like what? I'm not exactly an artist."

"You don't have to be a Picasso," you reassure him with a grin. "Just something that shows you put thought into it. Maybe a sketch, or even a painting if you’re feeling bold. It's the personal touch that matters."

He considers it, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Yeah, I could do that. Maybe a memory or something, like the time he tried to cook and set the kitchen on fire."

You choke out a laugh. “What? You never told me about that!”

Jon blushes slightly, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, well, it was… an interesting evening. Alfred wasn't too pleased."

"I can only imagine," you chuckle, picturing Damian attempting to cook. "That could definitely make something.”

“I’ll think on it,” decides Jon, sitting up and tugging you so you sit on his lap. After the whole Ivy situation, he was really awkward around you for a while. He kept stuttering over his words and wouldn’t look you in the eye. Eventually he got comfortable again, really comfortable. You can barely be around him without him having a hand on you or an arm around you. “What will you get him?”

"Something that doesn't involve kitchen disasters," you reply with a playful grin, settling comfortably on his lap. Jon rolls his eyes good-naturedly, his arm finding its familiar place around your shoulders.

"You're no fun," he teases, squeezing you gently. "But seriously, what are you planning to get him?"

You lean back against him, considering the question. "I haven’t really thought about it. To be honest, I didn’t even think he would expect one from me.”

Jon hums thoughtfully, running his fingers across your shoulder absentmindedly. "Why wouldn’t he expect one from you? You’re his friend.”

You guess he’s right. You and Damian talk, go out of each others way to spend time with one another (even if Damian would rather choke than admit it). It’s hard figuring out where you fit in this world.

"Yeah, we're friends," you murmur, more to yourself than to Jon. "But sometimes I wonder if I really belong here, you know?" You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Jon's fingers pause in their absent-minded tracing along your shoulder. He shifts slightly, turning to look at you with a gentle expression. "Of course you belong here, [Your Name]. You’re kind and funny and brave. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest and hug his. “I’m sure you’re just feeling homesick,” he reassures. Oh, he has no idea.

“I know Gotham is a tough place but… I’m here for you, and Damian’s here for you,” he pauses, “...if you want… I can take you up the Queens…?” Surely he doesn’t mean flying you there? It takes a couple of hours to get to Queens from here, but he can take you there in an instant. However, that also means revealing to you his secret. Christ, it’s like he’s not even trying to hide it.

Regardless, it wouldn’t be your Queens. Actually, seeing it might do more harm than good. “No, it’s okay. Thanks, though.”

He looks at you with the most earnest puppy eyes you’ve seen. It tugs at your heartstrings, his concern and offer of support clear in his gaze.

"Thanks, Jon," you manage, your voice soft with gratitude and a touch of wistfulness. "I appreciate it."

He nods, sensing your reluctance to delve deeper into the topic. Jon's hand finds yours, squeezing it gently in a gesture of solidarity. "Anytime, [Your Name]. You know that."

Jon's earnestness and the warmth of his hand in yours fill you with a mix of comfort and a slight pang of guilt. You appreciate his concern and the genuine offer of support, yet part of you hesitates to fully accept it.

“I’ll figure it out,” you declare, referring to Damian’s gift. “And it’ll definitely outshine yours,” you tease.

Jon grins, and squeezes you close, making you squawk in offense. He blows raspberries in your neck, the feeling of it making you curl in on yourself, but regardless, makes you happy.

“Give me some tunes, Karen.”

Music starts playing from the speakers of your laptop, courtesy of Karen. You hum and rock as you turn a screw. The particle accelerator is looking good and proper now. It’s begun to take shape, winding around the space the more you build it. Sipping your death brew, you make sure the screw is tight before throwing the wrench somewhere.

“Explain to me one more time?” comes Victoria’s voice from your phone. You can see from the facetime that she’s in her pajamas, ready to go to bed.

“It’s a new element. It’s gonna power all my future creations,” you say. “Basically, this bad boy,” you pat the accelerator, “is going to synthesize it by accelerating charged particles to high speeds so that they collide with each other. The atoms will fuse, making the new element.”

“How… did you even come up with this?”

“I didn’t,” you sniff. “My dad’s dad did. He just gave me the blueprints.”

“And what will you name it?”

“Well… my dad planned to name it badassium. So that’s what it’ll be called,” you declare, grabbing your phone.

She raises a brow at the name but has no further comment. “Why don’t you… patent this or something?”

“The idea is to stay discreet, my dear.” You take a seat and kick up your legs. “Besides, I’d have a hard time choosing whether to patent it as [Name] Stark or Spinnerette.”

She snorts. "Right," she says, stifling a yawn. "Just don't blow yourself up, okay?"

"I'll do my best," you reply with a grin. "Sleep tight, Tori. I'll keep you updated."

"Goodnight," she responds, her voice already trailing off. You end the call and set your phone down, turning your attention back to the particle accelerator.

You stretch, feeling the strain of hours spent hunched over. Just as you're about to call it a night, Karen's voice breaks the silence. "Incoming message from ‘please get this boy some brown contacts’."

You wipe your hands on a rag and pick up your phone, opening the message. It's a selfie of Jon and Damian, both smiling (well, Jon is smiling, Damian looks mildly amused). You respond with a simple selfie you took earlier. He hearts the message.

As night falls, you suit up once again, ready for another patrol. The streets are quieter tonight, the snowfall muffling the usual sounds of the city. You swing through the air, feeling a sense of peace and purpose. As you land silently on a nearby rooftop, you hear a faint noise. Your senses sharpen, and you move cautiously towards the sound.

You find a small group of children, huddled together, trying to build a snowman. Their laughter is infectious, and for a moment, you just watch, a smile tugging at your lips.

One of the kids looks up and spots you. "Look! It's Spinnerette!" The others follow his gaze, their faces lighting up with excitement. You drop down to join them, your landing soft and graceful.

"Hi there," you greet them, your voice friendly and warm. "Need any help with that snowman?"

dark and brooding watching

The kids nod eagerly, and you spend the next few minutes helping them build their snowman. When it's done, they cheer, admiring their handiwork. "Thank you, Spinner!" one of the kids says, his eyes shining with gratitude.

"Anytime," you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. "Now, you little rascals should go home. It’s dark out.”

They whine but listen, scurrying off into the nearby apartments. You watch as they make it inside, they’re parents (who were keeping a vigilant eye) wave to you as they close the door.

You turn to look over your shoulder slightly. “You gonna come out or are you gonna stand there all day brooding?”

“You’re good with children,” comes a low gruff. The man, the myth, the legend himself; Batman steps out of the shadows, approaching you.

“They’re not very complicated creatures,” is your dry response.

Batman steps closer, his presence imposing but familiar. "No, but they require patience and understanding," he replies, his voice softer than usual.

You shrug, "Guess I've had some practice."

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable behind the cowl. "You've adapted well to Gotham," he finally says. "It's not an easy place to thrive."

"Guess I had to," you reply, matching his tone. "This city needs all the help it can get."

Batman nods, his eyes briefly scanning the surroundings before returning to you. "I saw Nightwing earlier. He mentioned you had things under control at the ice rink."

"Yeah, just some losers trying to ruin Christmas," you say, dismissively. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

He hums, saying nothing more. "You… handled it well," Batman acknowledges. Woah, this is a moment in history, take a picture.

You nod, having nothing better to say. Internally, you’re giddy at the praise. The two of you stand in silence, looking at the city as the cold air rushes by.

After a beat, Batman shifts slightly, as if considering his next words carefully. "I've been monitoring your progress," he starts, his voice low but not unkind. "You've shown potential. But Gotham tests everyone, even those with the best intentions."

You look at him, catching his gaze behind the cowl. There’s a weight to his words, a reminder of the city's relentless nature. "I know," you reply simply, understanding the implicit warning. Gotham doesn’t forgive mistakes easily, and the path you’ve chosen is littered with challenges.

Batman nods once, his approval implicit yet unstated. "Keep your focus. And remember, sometimes the greatest strength is knowing when to ask for help." His tone is almost paternal, a rare glimpse of advice from a man who often operates in silence and shadows.

You can’t help but snort. “Gee, Bats. If you wanted my secret identity all you had to do was ask.”

“Are you saying you’d tell if you asked?”

“I’m saying… we can be grateful for one another.”

Batman regards you silently for a moment, his expression unreadable as always. Then, with a slight nod, he turns to leave, disappearing into the shadows as effortlessly as he emerged. The night wears on, and you continue your patrol through Gotham's wintry streets. The city seems to hold its breath under the blanket of snow, a rare moment of calm amidst its usual chaos.

“It’s no wonder cats were worshiped in ancient times,” Damian muses, watching Nari stretch lazily on the windowsill. He’s decided to grace you with his presence this fine afternoon, claiming he had nothing better to do. He’s a welcome addition to your apartment.

Damian, reclining on your couch with an air of regal indifference, watches Nari the cat with a mixture of curiosity and mild wonder. His expression softens as Nari pads over to him, sniffing his outstretched hand cautiously before allowing him to scratch behind her ears.

You lean against the kitchen counter, watching the scene with a small smile. "He seems to like you," you comment casually, taking a sip of your drink.

"Hmph," Damian grunts noncommittally, but his hand continues to stroke Nari's fur with a practiced touch. "Animals are simple creatures. They respond to consistency."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his attempt at nonchalance. "So, are you here just to critique my cat's taste in company, or is there something else on your mind?"

Damian pauses, his gaze flicking briefly towards you before returning to Nari. "Tt. Jon was bothering me about the insipid holiday tradition that is Christmas."

You chuckle softly, knowingly. "Ah, Jon and his enthusiasm for festive cheer. What did he want?"

"He insisted on exchanging gifts," Damian mutters, as if the concept itself is offensive. "As if material possessions hold any significance."

"Well, it's the thought that counts, right?" you offer, setting down your mug and joining Damian on the couch. Nari purrs contentedly as you scratch under her chin. “You’re telling me your family doesn’t do Christmas?”

“Of course we do,” he scoffs. “But I do not care much for it. But Jon seems to think it matters.”

"Well, he's not entirely wrong," you say, keeping your tone light. "Gift-giving can be meaningful if it's done thoughtfully. It's a chance to show someone you care about them, to give them something they might appreciate."

Damian regards you thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "And what would you consider a thoughtful gift, then?"

You smile. "It depends on the person," you begin, tapping your chin in mock contemplation. "For someone like Jon, maybe something that reflects his interests—maybe a new comic he hasn't read yet, or something related to his hobbies. Or, you could make something yourself. That usually adds a personal touch." It’s similar to the advice you gave Jon.

He considers your words, nodding slowly. "I see," he murmurs, as if filing away your suggestions for future reference. “What would someone like you like?” he asks casually.

You think. What would you like? Any material stuff you’d want has no use to you now, and you can’t exactly ask him for stuff pertaining to your little project. Actually… it’s been a while since you’ve wished for something material. Tony catered to your every whim and desire, you never wanted for long.

“A memory,” you decide, nodding. “Something I can experience and remember fondly.”

Damian listens attentively, his expression thoughtful. He seems to mull over your words, considering how to fulfill your request for a memorable gift. After a moment of silence, he nods decisively.

Nari, sensing the relaxed atmosphere, curls up contentedly in Damian's lap, earning a surprised glance from him before he tentatively strokes her fur again.

“Perhaps it is a good time to mention that my father insists I invite you to Christmas this year.”

"Your father?" You blink in surprise at Damian's unexpected news. Bruce Wayne, inviting you to his family's Christmas celebration? It's a surreal thought (and probably not good news). "I... didn't expect that."

Damian shrugs nonchalantly, though there's a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "He's made it clear that you're... welcome."

"Are you... comfortable with that?" you ask cautiously, glancing at Damian for any sign of discomfort.

"I've grown accustomed to your presence," Damian replies evenly, his gaze steady. "Besides, Father insists."

The tension in your shoulders eases slightly at his reassurance. Bruce Wayne inviting you to join his family's celebration—it's a gesture that speaks volumes, even if Damian's demeanor remains somewhat guarded. You're not entirely sure what to make of it, but the prospect of spending Christmas with the Wayne's is undeniably intriguing.

"Alright," you finally say, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Tell your father... I appreciate the invitation."

Damian nods once, his expression giving away nothing more than a hint of curiosity. "Very well."

You lean back against the couch, content to let the conversation drift into a comfortable silence. Damian continues to pet Nari absentmindedly, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. As the afternoon light fades into dusk, you let the pressure of your situation dwindle away, content to live in the moment.

notes:

reader when dick shows affection: this is vile what is this

dick: :C

jon ready to risk it all for reader: hey so im superboy but nevermind that let me die for you pls

#damian wayne x reader #jon kent x reader #robin x reader #dc x reader #superboy x reader

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cosmic-ghost-hermit · 7 months ago

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Take what resonates, leave what doesn’t but always be open to new experiences. ALSOOOO join my divination discord!!!! Link in bio

Pile 1

Crystal: Moss Agate

Song: Timeless by Jon Bellion

God/Goddess: Hermes

Astrology: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces

Vibes: 🌸🌿💖💚🪲🌷🪷🥝🍑🍣📗🧠🧚🏼🩲👛🦚🍐🍉🍡🎀🐷🪴👚👅🧑🏼‍🎤

Hi, pile 1! What makes you extraordinary is your mind. You are extremely intelligent. You are fantastic at looking at a situation and seeing the secrets that lay in wait. You see past the smoke and mirrors to the important matters easily. It’s not something many people like about you unfortunately. You catch a whiff of their dirty laundry before they even tell you about it’s existence. Which can be kind of scary to experience if you aren’t used to it. However, this weeds out the people who can’t handle your intellect. It removed the people who are jealous of you or who would lie to you or try to manipulate you. You are a purifier. You are a lie detector. You are also extraordinary because you are a defender. You use your knowledge to help the people you care about. You arm them with information. You equipt them with communication skills they didn’t have before. Your heart center is very strong which tells me you are fiercely loving and want the best for all your friends. You always keep your promises. I also see you are very understanding. Pile one even though you can lift the facade of most people, when you do it is never something you bring judgement into unless it is necessary. You might see someones anxiety in the way they chew on their nails. You meet those conclusions with kindness and grace. If others had your skills they wouldn’t use it the way you do. You are such a kind soul. Pile one you are extraordinary no matter what others say about you. Just because they can’t control you it doesn’t mean you are what they say you are.

Pile 2

Crystal: Sunstone

Song: Bad Reputation by Avril Lavigne

God/Goddess: Hades, Persephone

Astrology: Aries, Cancer, Libra, Capricorn

Vibes: 🤎✒️🎓⌛️♠️🕶️🫚🥐🪵🦫🐌🧳🐻🕰️🪜🧸🐗🖤🦇🕷️🦅🪨🕸️🧋🏹🪮🗝️🎱🎻🐶🎮🦽⚰️🚬🏉🪑🏴‍☠️♣��

Hello, pile two! You are extraordinary because you are unconventional. I see that you are very fashionable in an alternative way. You have a crow like energy to you. You collect interesting things and keep them in line of sight. There is this depth to you that is absolutely fascinating. Sometimes that depth can scare people because they haven’t been through all that you have experienced. The depth you hold isn’t always obvious. It sits right underneath the surface. You don’t offer your depth to those who don’t ask. You don’t offer your depth to those you believe don’t deserve you. Even so, you are brave, bold and never look for permission to do what you please. I would see you on the street and would whisper “Ohmygods that person is so fucking cool do you see them??!?!?!?!” You also have a voice that stands out from the crowd. You can project your voice in a powerful way that rings in peoples ears even after you have left the scene. Your words linger on their minds. What you said sticks with those people and will never leave them. They can hear the wisdom dripping from each syllable and they understand there is experience behind what you say but can’t quite pinpoint what you lived through. You have worked hard for your place in life and there is a richness that you resonate even if you aren’t wealthy. You take no shit. The universe loves that about you, baby. You don’t let your heartbreak keep you down. You might have had hard times but that has never and will never define who you are. Holy fuck you are so cool.

Pile 3

Crystal: Howlite

Song: Renaissance Girl by alybob

God/Goddess: Iris, Artemis, Apollo

Astrology: Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius

Vibes:🩵🐭🤍🌨️🫐⏱️💙🦢💎🛁🍙🧿🪬✈️🧊🍭🛼🏳️‍⚧️🥶🦋🐻‍❄️🦕🧢👟🥽🥼🗣️🛬🗽💦🐚🐁🪼❄️🌊☁️🐰🎧🎹🌎⚗️

Hey, pile three! You are extraordinary because you haven’t been invented yet. All you were is gone. All you are is yet to be born. You get to decide. I see you may have recently discovered you are changing into someone new before your eyes. You didn’t even notice for a while. You were charging into life with little thought to how you wanted it to go. You perception has been twisted and you have a new angle to look at now. You are extraordinary because you could become anything. You could become an activist, an painter, a musician, a model, an engineer, a programer, a runner or anything you can imagine. You are a dream. I’m kind of jealous at how raw your energy is. You are iron ore that has yet to be melted down and molded into what you were meant to be. The richness of your soil could nurious any plant or tree. You are the star that is transforming into a supernova. Wow. You are such a lovely and beautiful soft energy pile 3. Your energy is like delicate piano with a soft bassline. You are full unlimited potential. I’m sure hearing this might not be what you expected at all. You might not even really like this answer if I’m honest. Please understand that I see you have come out of an act. Who you were is nothing compared to who you will be. You masked your truest self for a long time and now you are moving into new power beyond your old self’s dreams. If past you met current you they would be strangers to one another. My advice moving forward is to explore yourself. Carefully map out your new self. Voyage to your new interests with excitement because you will be crafted from stardust, my friend. The world can’t wait to meet them.

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heauxvibez · 8 months ago

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D.U.F.F

warning: none, but it's based off one of my fav movies! Enjoy!

D.U.F.F.

An abbreviation for 'Designated Ugly Fat Friend'. Often in a group of women (usually adolescents) there will be a D.U.F.F. as a means to look better by comparison.

"I'll be back, I'm going to get some fresh air. It's kind of congested in here!" Emage hollered to her friends, her voice barely audible over the booming music. They just nodded, lost in the rhythm, not really paying their friend any mind.

Emage hated parties, and constantly asked herself why she had even attended.

Oh yeah, because my friends forced me out of my bed and dragged me here.

Yeah, she could've easily left bearing in mind that she had driven her own car there, but her conscience wouldn't allow her to leave her friends, who were most likely drunk, by themselves.

"Can you get the hell out of my way?!" she groaned, shoving past the sweaty bodies that rubbed against her, disgusted by the fact that the perspiration of the random people dripped onto her skin. Gross. The congestion was becoming too much for her and if she didn't escape the overcrowded area, she was sure she'd pass out.

After jostling pass people for what seemed like forever, she eventually found a patio. There were a few people out there drinking, conversing, sticking tongues down each others throat, but she didn't care. She was able to breathe in fresh air.

It was a mystery how her friends were able to deal with people rubbing against their bodies, invading their personal space but maybe it was just because her personal space was something she had cherished. Anyone who had even dared to pass the boundaries she had set for herself, man, they were in for a rude awakening.

Emage discarded the hair tie from her wrist, throwing her sweated-out silk press hair into a ponytail. She fanned herself, exhaling as she leaned against the patio railing. Although she hated being there, she loved the view. It was late at night so the city lights lit up the sky, and the full moon illuminated the night faultlessly.

Clearing her mind, she thought about how she even ended up being at this party. Of course, her friends dragged her here, but how'd they even get invited? It was an enormous house occupied with celebrities, whom she didn't really care for that much. She was pretty sure some of them weren't too fond of her either, being that she had cursed at a few for bumping into her, not even sparing an apology. Who did they think they were? She was well aware of who they were but there was no room for disrespect no matter who they were.

Oh. Now she recalls. Her friend Bree got invited by some famous wrestler. She forgot his full name but remembers Bree calling him Jon, or Jimmy, or maybe both, who knows. Emage wasn't surprised when her friend said the dude approached her after a match she went to. With her beautiful 4a curls delicately resting on her shoulders, doe-like brown eyes, and supermodel figure, she was sure to catch some celebrity's attention.

"Hey, duff." she heard a deep voice call from a distance, breaking her from her thoughts.

There was no way the man was speaking to her, so she continued to gaze at the night sky. From her peripheral vision, she could spot the tall figure stand next to her and lean against the railing as well.

"Hello? Duff, I know you heard me calling your name.." she shook her head, a small smile emerging onto her face. She turned her head, facing him. The young woman had been prepared to tell him off but her words became stuck in her throat.

He resembled a Samoan deity with his strong, chiseled features and full beard. His lips were a soft shade of pink, practically inviting a kiss, and his brown eyes seemed to peer deep into her soul. His white T-Shirt was basic, but it clung snugly to his body, highlighting his divine muscles. The sight of the tall man was enough to melt a popsicle stick.

As quickly as she could, she snapped out of her thoughts before he could see her sweat.

"I don't know who you are, or who you think you are, but I'm definitely not the one. My name is not Duff, so I'd really appreciate it if you wouldn't call me that. Thanks," she snapped, her tone sharp.

A deep chuckle rumbled from the man's chest. He found the woman's feisty demeanor amusing, but her words didn't faze him.

"Well, since you don't know who I am," he said, throwing his fingers in the air to create air quotes. "I'm Roman Reigns, you know..WWE st-"

"Listen, I didn't come here to listen to you talk about yourself. I just wanted some fresh air away from the ignorant people at this party. But it seems I can't even get that," she interrupted, showing no interest in his self-introduction.

"Ooo, I've never met such a feisty duff," he remarked, a smirk playing on his lips.

The scowl deepened on her face, a clear warning sign, but he couldn't resist the amusement of provoking the short, angry woman.

"Why do you keep calling me that? What the hell is a duff?" she demanded, her weight shifted onto her right leg, arms crossed over her chest, exuding attitude.

"You don't know?" he questioned, one eyebrow raised in mock surprise.

"Obviously not, that's why I'm asking," she retorted, stating the obvious.

"Designated Ugly Fat Friend," he leered.

"Excuse me?" her eyes widened.

"That's what Duff means; Designated Ugly Fat Friend."

What? Did he just? I know he did not just?

Emage was taken aback. He didn't even know her, yet he was tossing insults her way.

"Did you just... did you just call me fat and..and ugly?" Her face flushed with anger.

He shook his head. "No, well, yes, but a Duff isn't always about being ugly or fat, or both."

Her expression remained unchanged, so he continued. "It's about being the least attractive one in the group. You know, the one who makes everyone else look better. Don't worry, every group has one."

Throwing her hands up in the air, she faked a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you, Jesus, because that makes the term way less insulting."

"I'm not even sure if you're being serious about this. I mean, I'm decent... I-I'm not ugly," she stuttered. He attempted to pat her shoulder, but she quickly brushed him off.

"Of course you're not. You're cute, but your friends Bree and Asia are...sexy," he admitted, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders.

If she could have reached up to grab him the hair he had slicked into a ponytail and slung him over the patio railing, she would have. What was the point of him coming over here anyway? Did he want to shatter her confidence to the ground? As if she didn't already have insecurities she was trying to work on.

She lunged for a nearby drink, snatching it from the grasp of a random individual.

"Hey, I was drinking that!"

Without hesitation, she flung the contents of the cup all over Roman, the Hennessy cascading over his white shirt, leaving a nasty brown stain.

"What the hell was that for?" he bellowed, his eyes wide with disbelief as he stared at the blotch on his shirt.

A heavy silence descended upon the patio as the surrounding crowd observed the confrontation between the small woman and the towering man.

"You need to chill," he chuckled, though the anger was evident in his voice.

She responded by lifting her middle finger before swiftly turning on her heel and exiting the area.

"Oh, yeah. Real mature!" he yelled after her retreating figure.

With a frustrated groan, Roman was left with the nauseating scent of spilled Hennessy under his nose. Feeling the weight of the party guests' curious stares, he glanced up.

"What the hell are you guys looking at?" he demanded, his irritation palpable as the onlookers quickly averted their gaze, earning a devious chuckle from the WWE star.

"Stupid duff..." he muttered under his breath.

--------------

Umm..200 words turned into 2 million. Lol this is just going to be a plain ole writing challenge at this point. Part 2?

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @msbigredmachine @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80 @saintmagx @theninthwonder

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #romanreignsimagine #romanreignsoneshot #fanfiction #roman reigns x black reader #wwe

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rise-my-angel · 2 years ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

3 - An Intrigue Drenched in Blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 8.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, animal death, discussions of child murder and infanticide, brothels, blood and violence, slight canon divergence

Notes: Previous Chapter Here, Things pick up from this point on, I assure you. Series Masterlist Here.

Bright and noisy was the state of Kings Landing as knights poured in from every corner of the most populous cities. All with their shiny armour and polished bravados like they were every bit of confident that they would win the winning gold and glory. They were never your kind of attraction even in your younger years here. The play fighting that so many of these men staked their life on, and of all the days to miss it was yesterdays which had the worst of action.

Not allowing the chance to even truly approach for a question, Ser Gregor Clegane otherwise known as The Mountain had speared the newly knighted Ser Hugh with a lance right through the throat. A space in his armour seemingly perfect for such an action and it felt hard to believe that it was nothing but a coincidence. Nothing in this city was a coincidence anymore it felt.

Walking towards the stands you passed by where curiously your King uncle was absent from his seat. Not a man to miss a spectacle you toyed with the ridiculous notion that he would ride in the event. Even now you could recall a time when you were thirteen and a tourney was on just like this one, you had stopped by the tent King Robert was in and admonished him for being so foolish to join.

It was easier to be comfortable with him in those days. You were sat up on a table, popping grapes into your mouth as you casually would remark that not only would no man dare hurt the King even in jest, but that the armour he was trying to fit in was about fifteen years too small. Were you not so close, he might have gotten you in trouble for such a comment. You couldn’t imagine even having a conversation with him that would allow for fun now.

The King was less miserable, and typically more reasonable and sober back then and you were still full of a youth like pep in this city. You still had the urge to explore the nearly fifty miles length of tunnels hidden about by the former dynasty and the pretty colours, bright sun, and vast diversity of lords and ladies impressed you. You still could walk into this city with a smile, unlike now. Maybe it was the loss of a childhood trait, or more realistically it was the adult understanding that this was a dangerous place and you’d be a fool to think otherwise.

You still wore the pretty dresses, and entertained the noble daughters whom were some degree of friends but the spark was gone from your eyes despite it all. This place and it’s people no longer giving you joy, instead just now a place of bloodshed and the tediousness of cleaning up after your King’s messes. No wonder your fathers scowl had deepened the lines in his forehead so much, you were beginning to think you’d return to Robb in Winterfell, stress having doubled your age on him.

Spotting Renly, he gave you a closed mouth smile of surprise as you pulled your skirt upwards to climb the steps before flattening it all out as you sat next to him. His voice was as light as ever, not that you expected much. “When you asked if I’d be here, I didn't actually expect you to show up. I thought this wasn’t your kind of thing, my dear niece.”

Tilting your head with a slight grimace you relented. “No, I can’t say I see the great appeal in cheering about men whose claims are they are young and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick.”

Nudging you with his arm, Renly smirked. “Shame, you could do with some fun in your life, shake up the terribly boring personality my brother passed onto you.” Glaring with only a flicker of your eyes to the side, you felt back a slight smirk as he just sauntered onward like nothing. “I hope for Robb Stark’s sake you aren’t such a rigid, bore in bed as well. Last thing one of those northerners need is less enthusiasm in their personal lives.”

Rolling your eyes, you took a breath before just passing him onto the truth. “I promised Shireen I’d go see a tournament, so I can write to her all about it.” You dared not look at him, knowing it was something unjustly vile about her on his tongue.

You think you could see him shrug somewhat beside you. “At least it gets you out for once, you and Lord Stark seem to be working way too hard for a King whose never going to thank you for it.”

Watching the very man approach, he nodded with an unblinking stare for just a second before sitting next to his daughter. No one thought your jobs, certainly not Hand of the King’s job was done for the sake of thanks. Not when the King had attended maybe two or three small council meetings over the course of the six years you’ve been sitting in on them to some degree.

Squinting in the bright sun, you shrugged with an otherwise flat expression. “Someone in this family should do the hard work for once, I may as well take over that mantle.”

Chuckling, Renly and yourself glanced over to the King making his own way to his seat finally, the bumbling sack of nerves and apologies that was his squire following suit with the wine. “Don’t be so harsh on our King, takes a lot of energy to fuck as many whores as he does at that age.”

The contenders next begun to ride up. Ser Gregor large and as brutish as ever on a large yet skittish black horse that seemed to be as unsettled as many felt looking at the man. On the other side, dressed in a bright and ornate armour with poise was his opponent. Curls atop his head neat and styled and a rose in his hand as he looked towards the stands near where you sat, for a subject to give it too.

Settling on the young redhead in the front stands a few rows from you, you could see the elation in Sansa’s shoulders as she gently accepted it. “Thank you, Ser Loras.”

Unnoticed to her as he took steps away, glancing up to the rows where you sat he glanced with a pointed glint in his eyes. Renly did not respond, but the words were there as there was solidarity in your silence. You would tease your uncle as he would you, but something between the dynamic you two had build up seemed to have been discussed in the men’s private affairs. Your teasing was never meant as anything but fodder for banter.

The shared look was not romantic, but they tended to stay away in public due to image. Much of the court knew about Renly, you weren’t as sure many, if any at all, outside of the small collection of whisperers, knew enough to say the same about the son of Mace Tyrell, heir to Highgarden.

In the seat below you and one above the two Starks, Lord Baelish turned with a jaunty grin. “A hundred gold dragons on the Mountain.”

Renly beside, did not hesitate. “I’ll take that bet.”

The two knights made their way to each side of the procession as the lower man begun to brag of his confidence. “Now what will I buy with a hundred gold dragons? A dozen barrels of Dornish Wine, or a girl from the pleasure houses of Lys?”

With a quirk of your eyebrow, you glanced at him. “You could even buy a friend.” The reaction was as satisfying as such a man could emote. A smile as if he knew a secret you didn’t and it only reminded you why bothering to speak to him was so grating. Lord Baelish not allowing for a moment to let another get the one up on him even in words he always felt compelled to have the final look, the final say.

The trumpets sounded out, both riders finally going towards the other as it only lasted for a mere moment. Loras’s Lance striking Ser Gregors shield and pushing him back. The large black horse fumbling in it’s steps as it fell into the wooden railings and knocking the large knight himself to the ground. The crowd cheering with delight as you felt the pride next to you.

Pride in both energy and voice as Renly shouted down smugly, “Such a shame, Littlefinger. It would've been so nice for you to have a friend.”

Standing up and turning to face you both with a quieter tone and a wider smile, you felt the creeping below your skin with a narrowing of your brows. “And tell me, Lord Renly. When will you be having your friend?”

Both of you said nothing, but the glares spoke many things all at once that the man only found amusement in as he turned back. You and Renly glancing at the other for only a moment of seriousness before you glanced back to the waving Ser Loras at the people. “Dare I ask how much gold you two are playing around with to come up with that little stunt?”

Renly laughed, the one thing about you that separated from your father is that you didn’t have to lecture to disprove. If the rich wanted to play with their money like jesting boys, you’d just let them it didn’t matter to you. Leaning in to whisper closer to your ear, “To be fair my dear niece, it wouldn’t have worked as well on any other horse. A man’s animal is only as wild as it’s owner they say.”

The next words didn’t come out of your mouth, as the sounds combined with what image flashed in the side of your vision gathered a mix of yells and stunned silence. Ser Gregor at some point having acquired his sword, took it through his horse’s neck in a single slice. The anger in him wild and untamable as he turned on his opponent, knocking Ser Loras to the ground only just missing from by strikes to his shield.

Both you and Renly standing at the action, Loras was good, but not good enough for that. Strike once twice, enough that you felt the bubbling anxiety in your chest before a growling voice came down from that of the King’s Stand to leave him be.

Striking his sword against his before each pushed away from the other, brother against brother stared the other down in a hatred that spoke more about themselves then it did defence of another. Ser Sandor Clegane, the brother of the giant Knight in front of him with half his face burned in a sear of fire for life. Half the hair on that side barley able to cover it beyond the strands coming from the top of his head that weren’t destroyed.

It wasn’t of any interest to you, nor did it matter, but you recall learning what such a mark meant and how it happened. The two now clashing swords, your eyes narrowed and your nerves grew tense in your muscles. This would get out of hand until more bloodshed arrived but only one man dared to interrupt such a commotion.

“Stop this madness in the name of your King,” The roar from the stands as King Robert stood was strong and echoing. Ser Gregor taking a final swing as the other ducked the blow with a surprising grace as he bent down to kneel, sword stabbed in the ground with a bow of his head.

You felt Renly’s own nerves ease beside you as the Mountain threw his sword to the ground with a raging huff and stormed off. The King yelling to let him go as the crowd parted in a justified terror. The Hound was not a man you enjoyed associating with, found too much pleasure in the necessary harshities of life and considered you to be as aggravating and dull as he did your father. However, he did follow around your wretched cousin for most of his days and that would make anyone angry.

The crowd cheered for Ser Loras and The man most just called The Hound as the smaller and younger raised the others hand in the air of victory, you and Renly sitting back down slowly.

Glancing at him, you could see a brightness in his eyes looking at the proclaimed Knight of the Flowers, and you couldn’t see it within you to give anymore passing jests at the matter. His new close association with the Tyrells struck you as an odd choice, and it pinged a distrust in your brain but you in no way had let it effect what a terror that would be for him.

Renly wasn’t a fighter of any kind, you weren’t even sure he had ever held something longer then a stick to play fight with and certainly had never been hit hard enough to bleed. It’s scary to imagine that you are forced to sit there and do nothing as the man you love has a blade shoved into him.

You perished the thought, you dared not let yourself imagine anything for the two faces which struck you as the scariest.

Sighing to yourself as you walked through the Red Keep you were thankful for the silence, the handmaidens appointed to you were fine girls, good at their jobs, but they were also giggly and chatty and fussed over you a bit too much. Having to tell them day after day, “I can walk myself through the castle halls my ladies, I assure you.”

When you were younger, it was either one of your fathers household guards that would keep and eye on you, or another who wasn’t sworn to serve but seemed to always know when you snuck off. Ser Barristan was in the sworn brotherhood of the Kingsguard, but he took a liking to you the day you arrived in Kings Landing. Not quite good at holding your tongue just yet, but you were still serious and respectful like your father taught you.

It was one day he had been sent by the King to fetch his niece so he could spend some time with you that he came across the most unique of sights. A wide area of Lord Stannis’s quarters had been pushed up against the wall and he stood in the middle with you, only aged thirteen, with a wooden sword in your hand.

He watched for a while, seeing the clever instruction your father was giving you. Ser Barristan knowing your lord father to be a formidable opponent and one that he would not wish to fight on the other side of a battlefield. Yet it wasn’t that style which he taught you.

You were less hacking and slashing, and more about swift movements and carefully timed slices that would cut down faster then your strength could overpower. After that, it was he who often found his way to accompany you when the King had no immediate need of him.

Days like this, you almost missed that. You didn’t want the hen chatter of girls fussing over you like you were the princess but you did miss the company of those who didn’t see fit to treat you like a dainty doll. Sometimes you had wondered if your strange mix of ladylike properness and a tendency to more lordly tasks was because of your father. He gave you and Shireen a lords education and such teachings led you to other interests.

To many you weren’t ladylike enough, but it wasn’t as if you pretended to be anything but the highborn lady you were born as. You enjoyed the company of other women, you took pride in your appearance like many, but you also spent much of your days as a teenager being kicked in the mud and hit with wooden swords by three teenage boys that had no qualms of making you feel like you were fine at being both.

However, as you heard a groan of frustration and tiny pattering of feet scampering beside you as it dodged into the hall, you were met with an amusing sight. Arya was covered in a layer of sweat and grime as well as what appeared to be scratches along her forearms when she stopped. Bending forward to rest her palms on her thighs as she caught her breathe, only flinging back up in surprise when you chuckled.

Slowly approaching, you didn’t bother hiding a smirk. “Such a ghastly state of dress for a highborn girl such as yourself, Lady Arya.” Your chuckle bellowed to a much heartier laugh at how quickly she told you to shut up.

Coming closer to you, she plopped herself down onto a small series of steps as you carefully sat down to join her. “Syrio has me catching cats. If I can be quick enough to catch them, then I’m quick enough to move around my opponents.” You smiled fondly at her, exhausted and covered in scratches that looked unseemly like looking at your once self.

Glancing up, you kept your eye on the black cat hiding around the corner. Peeking it’s one ear’d head out occasionally to eye it’s chaser. “You’re smaller then a normal target. They’re stronger but if you’re faster then them, that’s how you get them before they get you.” When she looked at you with a curious question in her eye, you shrugged looking back to the black cat. “It’s what Jon told me when he started to teach me how to swing a sword.”

Looking up with narrowed brows she asked, “I thought your father taught you?”

Nodding, your fingertips started to tap at the other in a fidget. That memory was still clear as it was when it happened. “Sort of. You were just born, you wouldn’t remember any of it. But it was one night I couldn’t sleep and I ended up wandering into the training yard. I was fooling around with one of the training swords, no idea what I was doing at all. And before I knew it, Jon had snuck up behind me and hit me in the legs with one and I just fell to the ground.”

Arya looking a bit taken back, but you laughed. “We all used to rough house a lot more back then, me and your brothers. He and Robb were around fourteen or fifteen by that point, and I was twelve. So just shy of being too old to pick on girls anymore.”

Moving to tuck her knees closer to her chest she wrapped her arms around them. “So what, he hit you and then..?”

You mimicked the same position, “At first he joked that if I was going to play with swords I should at least learn to not turn my back unguarded. But then he asked if I really wanted to know how to use one.” Feeling far away, the girl next to you disappeared as well as the castle walls around you. “I think we met up after everyone went to sleep for three weeks straight. He taught me some basics, then realized I would learn a bit better if he didn’t teach me how to fight like him, but how to fight against someone like him.”

Smiling to yourself, it was during those nights all to yourself that had done you two in. You weren’t a lady in that moment, and he wasn’t a bastard. You were just you and Jon, your best friend guiding you how to fight simply beacuse you wanted to know and he wanted to teach you. You got roughed up a lot, in the privacy of the night, Jon certainly didn’t shy away from grabbing and throwing you around when you got too cocky.

“When I returned home, my father recognized what kind of cuts and bruises they were, instantly. I never told him who did it, I was scared he’d write to Lord Stark and Jon would get in trouble. But he never got mad at me. No, he figured if I wanted to learn and I already was, then he saw no reason to not continue himself.”

Those days you think were some of the last time you and your father so easily got along. He smiled and laughed during those lessons in his quarters, proud of his daughter so keen on learning the things that helped made him the Lord he was. You hadn’t seen your father so freely smile like the did on those days in a very long time. It was the last time he felt truly like your father, and not more like your Lord.

Lost in thought for more then you assumed, Arya’s voice startled you. “Does it bother you?” Glancing down at her, but she was looking at her feet not you. “Having to act like a lady when you want to do things the boys do?”

Considering for a moment, you saw no reason to sugar the truth. “For a while it did. When I came to Kings Landing for the first time, everyone treated me like a fancy highborn lady when both on Dragonstone and in Winterfell, people just treated me more like who I was already.”

Formality of such high luxury certainly was not common on Dragonstone. Being doted on and cared for like it was a waste of your effort to lift a finger that much was not the way of your father. You didn’t have so much done for you, that you forget what it means to earn your keep through your own means.

“But, I think I had to learn that it wasn’t being a lady that I didn’t want.” Glancing down to her, who now was looking at you with wide eyes. “It was just that I didn’t want to be the kind of lady people like the Queen wanted me to be. I’m nothing like Sansa, but I’m as much a lady as she is.”

Arya looked away quickly, a flash of long hurt in her eyes that you knew stemmed from a sister who didn’t treat her well. “My father wants me to be like her.”

Not even a second hesitation did you spend, “He doesn’t.” Turning to face her properly, you called her name firmly. “Arya. Fathers will always want things for their children, things that they have no way of knowing what we’d like about it or not. He’s not a mind reader, he can’t see the future you want for yourself and sometimes accepting that it’s different then what he envisioned takes time. But he adores you, and he would never tell you to be someone you can’t be.”

Running a hand over her hair, you could feel her trying not to lean into it. Trying to look impassive instead of upset as you continued. “We’re not all going to get the future we dreamed of, but that doesn’t mean your father wouldn’t support your choices no matter how different from Sansa’s they are at the end of the day. He went out of his way to hire Syrio to teach you something he first said wasn’t for girls. He wants you happy, even if it doesn’t lead you to the future he wants or you want.”

“Like how you didn’t get the future you wanted?”

Taken back, you didn’t understand her words but there was no anger or judgment in them as she elaborated. “You didn’t get to marry who you wanted, but every time I see you writing or opening a letter Robb sent you, you still smile in the same way my father does at my mother.”

Not in these open walls would you broach that. Not sure of what she knows or suspected or if you were just projecting onto her. You smiled, and your next words echoed the very thing Jon told you would be what was in store for you. “I’ve known Robb since I was eight. He’s easy to fall in love with.”

Your lips remembering his, and how easy it was to let his touch and his deep words make you lose yourself in him. But also the boyish grins whenever he teased you, the lack of worry you had knowing you could say anything to him and there’d be only support. Even before.

Somewhere in your heart was something far different that needed not thinking of now, or even if you had to think long enough to be real with yourself. But it was locked away for a reason. You couldn’t take that feeling with you, you had to let it go in order to give Robb who you really were. Not just pretend.

That part of your heart, had been captured protectively by the other. That part of your heart now sat heavy alongside that of the wolf who took it with him. That part of love was tucked away safely at the Wall with the one who insisted you not take it with you. You were with Robb now, and no matter what one part of you said, the other part of you yearned to see Robb and actually be happy. You did want it.

“Sometimes the things we want, aren’t the things we originally asked for. But that’s part of duty, how to be just and firm in our choices. Whatever your duty becomes, you have to learn to want it. Otherwise it’ll just eat away at you.”

Glancing up, you saw the little tomcat start to inch away down a stairwell, pulling a smirk as you nodded your chin over to it. “I hope you really want that cat, Arya because he’s about to bolt.”

Her head whipping up, you watched her leap to her feet sprinting down the hall as the little black cat sprinted off faster. As Arya grumbled loudly, you laughed freely.

Much true of words, you didn’t come here wanting to be wrapped in the tendrils of liars and spiders, but as you entered Lord Stark’s room? The very spider sat in the seat across from him, his face somewhat less apprehensive as it was you who entered, not one of mistrust. “My lady.”

“Lord Varys.” You did not sit int he seat beside him, coming to the end of Lord Stark’s desk and leaning back against the wall closest to it, arms crossed as you and him shared a look. His eyes steady and serious as you nodded. “Am I interrupting?”

Cordial and showing no intent, yet he never fooled you. “Not at all, in fact it makes it easier to share such sensitive information while you both are here.”

Lord Stark stared intently at the man, trying to gauge just as you. “Lord Varys seems to think the Kings life is in danger.”

“Oh I don’t think, Lord Stark. I’m afraid I know.”

Your posture couldn’t be more uptight and rigid as your stoned face, but you found no patience in playing nice as Lord Varys did. “Are you speaking of the same kind of danger that killed Jon Arryn?”

A slow nod, his voice was even as if none of this effected him. Despite his very presence and confidence of truth saying otherwise. “If you suspect Lord Arryn was poisoned, it would need to be one that was fast and utterly incapacitating if given the proper dose.”

“If we suspect?” Your emphasis on the doubt of we as in you and Lord Stark had Varys raise an eyebrow to you.

“I assure you my Lady, I don’t act on questions or doubts.” Glancing between you and Lord Stark he settled on what appeared to be the one who relaxed his trust more. “The tears of Lys, they call it. A rare and costly thing, as clear and tasteless as water. It leaves no trace.”

Lord Stark rose, pacing in thought towards the open air of his balcony. Your jaw clenching in consideration of the idea. What Grand Maester Pycelle had said, he seemed confident at first it must have been natural causes. If he didn’t sense a foul attribute then this ran deeply, did it not?

Asking who would give it to him, his voice was muffled as he still looked out to the city. Lord Varys playing such a game that irritated you. Telling you what you already know, but in a riddle to avoid any prying listeners to the subject. Never close to a man who says what he means. “Some dear friend, no doubt. But which one, there were so many. Lord Arryn was a kind and trusting man. There was one boy, all he was he owed to Jon Arryn.”

Squire to Knight upon his masters death, and yet once the master was dead soon was the squire turned knight. Something was tying up it’s loose ends but the ends of what? Lord Varys only saying whoever paid Ser Hugh would’ve been someone able to afford such a price.

His hands pressed against the top of his chair, the same yarns spun in Lord Starks head. You looked from him to Lord Varys. “Jon Arryn was Hand for over twenty years, why kill him now?”

Leaning forward, he spoke of something he knew the answer to and yet still forced you and Lord Stark to form more of that very thing on your own. “He started asking questions.”

There was no way of knowing how haunting this meeting would be to you one day.

The ferocity of your Uncle as he called a meeting of the small council himself told everyone whom didn’t already know the newest update, that something was about to explode. King Robert was the most blatant example of the fury of a Baratheon as any of you living now.

Something akin to madness was in his eyes as you watched him arrive, there was a calmness in both Lord Varys and Renly, a curiousness in Grand Maester Pycelle as he arrived and a difficult to read Lord Baelish who was the only other one present then Pycelle who didn’t know. As Lord Stark finally arrived, walking in you wondered how much of a unified front it appeared to be.

Niece and brother on both sides of the King Baratheon and a horrific message displayed. The only time your King uncle did not mince words, was now. Drenched in anger and vengeance that did not sit comfortably in your stomach. He looked at Lord Stark with all the vitriol he could, spitting out in anger “The whore is pregnant.”

Lord Stark hardly finding it in him to care for hiding his disgust but they fell on the Kings deaf rage.

It was like he didn’t even hear the man speak. “I warned you with would happen. Back in the North, I warned you but you didn’t care to hear. Well hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

You hadn’t been born until two years after the rebellion ended, you’d never seen him in a place that wasn’t in times of peace and yet he ranted and raved as if all three of them were armed and blooded at the gates. This was not a man you recognized, this was a man who spoke of an unborn child with the same he did of Rhaegar Targaryean.

Lord Stark’s tone was deep, cracking with a shocked twinge at who this man was. “You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this.”

The fury grew louder as he spoke. “Honour? I’ve got seven kingdoms to run. One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honour keeps them in line? Do you think it’s honour that’s keeping the peace? It’s fear. Fear and blood.”

Your father had a similar idea but never in a lifetime would it be in a manner like this. Lord Stannis felt that if people don’t fear you they won’t follow you. That if you can’t scare the wicked away then the good will not stick around to be picked off by what you refuse to pluck out. If you don’t pull the weeds out by their roots with determined force, then they will overtake the garden and nothing good will stay to grow between the rot.

Your voice was rough, as if your throat was scratched in need of water but it was hissed out without much care for hiding the feeling building. “Fear and blood isn’t far from fire, now is it?”

The King turned to his left to look at you, but you did not flinch back at the rage nor the spitting words from his mouth as he said your name. “Careful now. You’re my niece but you watch that.”

“You’re chasing shadows twenty years removed, shadows you can’t even be sure are real.”

Lord Varys far calmer then the other member still glaring your way. “My lady, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to the king and his council?” You both stared at one another, and in just a brief moment so quick you could’ve imagined it, there was a flash of something in his eyes.

Something like what he found in yours unsettled him. The way you know for a fact, he had looked at Lord Stannis many times over. Lord Stark asked who even provided the information. The spider’s answer did nothing but leave the wolf and little stag unconvinced. Or you supposed, given the calm manner which Renly refused to challenge and the true fury in the other?

Perhaps the two unconvinced members of this council, were indeed two wolves.

“Jorah Mormont. He is serving as advisor the Targaryeans.” You huffed a breath of disbelieving laughter at such a spy. As Lord Stark looked as unimpressed, he himself having much more direct reason to press to them that he wasn’t to be relied on.

“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?” Lord Baelish trying to reason that being a slaver is not the same as a traitor and yet only traitors would betray their loyal family and flee across the sea to escape whatever sentence justice demanded from him. You took no part in entertaining slave traders.

“And if he’s right?”

Glaring once more at your king, “And if she miscarries, if the child dies in infancy? We do not plan murders based on a whispers of what if, your grace.” Your name spat once more but you did not hear. “You mean to fear someone who doesn’t even exist yet so much, that you’d murder it in their mothers womb and call that anything but that of a coward?”

King Roberts face almost red from fury as he once again hissed your name. “I told you to watch yourself or have you forgotten who is king here?”

You stared at him as still as possible, not recognizing this as your uncle. This King was a stranger.

“No, your grace. Have you?”

Lord Stark speaking up before the King took a chance to raise his voice so loud it booms through the seven kingdoms. “The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I’ll fear a Targaryean child the day the Dothraki teach their horses to run on water.”

Looking in shock between you both, he yelled at the others to talk sense into you two.

Lord Varys took his chance, looking to Lord Stark notably as opposed to you both. “I understand your misgivings, my Lord. It brings me no joy delivering this news to the council. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule, must do vile things for the good of the realm, however much it pains us.”

Grand Maester Pycelle took his reasoning, a rational approach to a fruitless endeavour. “I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now to tens of thousands live?”

Tell that to the unborn child you refuse to give a chance, you thought to yourself.

Renly finally spoke, and you felt that weight in your chest plummet down and slam you hard into the floor. “We should have had them both killed years ago.”

Your eyes blazed as you looked at him, across the table. His were with no guilt even. Of course, the brother handed everything he did not earn nor deserve by the brother he now sat beside advocating for what he sees as the least amount of effort for the most unfair of results. Lord Baelish spoke somewhere to your left but you did not break your eyes from Renly.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with. Cut her throat, be done with it.”

The men here all sickened you but none as vile as Lord Baelish. Not even King Robert’s rage made you feel as if you were covered in the slime from a swamp from his voice alone.

Lord Stark looked his old friend right in the eye. “I followed you into war, twice. Without doubts, without second thoughts, but I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child. I will have no part in it.”

“You’re the Kings Hand, Lord Stark. You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a hand who will.”

Lord Stark’s only action, was to look his friend in the eye as he pulled off the pin of his position, and tossed it onto the table as it landed with a clunk. “And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man.”

The yelling went on for some time. Not a single one of you with the capability to have him calm his fury and the unravelling of what once made him a King fell before your eyes. As some finally begun to leave, you sat in your seat before projecting loudly. ��Your grace? A word?”

Room emptied out, he turned to you. His voice quieter but not without it’s rage. “You have a lot of gall to speak to your king like that, girl.”

Not moving an inch your eyes blazed towards him with a narrowed brow. “Speak to you like what? Like you’re a coward afraid of an unborn infant?”

“A coward-”

Slowly pushing yourself up, you braced your palms on the long table. “Tell me, your grace. What happened the last time a half Targaryean babe was murdered along with their mother? How well did that serve us in the long run, or I am I just supposed to assume that House Martell has forgiven all of that?”

King Robert stormed closer, leaning his fists much like you did your palms. With a tilt of his head you felt as if he somehow still towered over you. “They were that son of a bitch’s own children or did you forget that too? You’d have them alive now and walking around doing gods know what just beacuse doing what needs to be done isn’t honourable?”

“This isn’t about honour,” Your own voice finally rose to a proper shout and your uncles head jolted back as his eyes widened for a moment. “I’m talking about justice. You aren’t an honourable King for doing this, but you’re certainly not giving Lyanna justice by murdering women and children who’ve done nothing.”

“She hasn’t been done right by until every member of that family is dead-”

He leaned forward and so did you. “You served her justice. You killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident, you were the jury and executioner for his crimes and blaming those who weren’t even there or alive for it has nothing to do with Lyanna and you can’t serve a just sentence for something that isn’t even close to have happened yet.”

You weren’t fool to think you got through to him, but he was lost in thought for just long enough for you to find the limit of your handling be reached. “Don’t do anything to people who haven’t proved a harm to you. That unborn child is someone you’ve never met, you have no idea what they could grow up to become, uncle.”

Passing by, he was simmering down as you were when you stopped beside him. “I’m not even telling you what to do about the girl. You choose to kill her, and just her I will not argue. But you cannot punish an infant just beacuse they have drops of Targaryean blood somewhere in their veins. You have no idea what that child could turn into, and if they are a threat? Then we serve out that justice. But only when justice is required.”

You got to the door before he spoke, voice raised to catch the distance as he turned to look at you.

“It doesn’t matter what you two do. If I won’t give it to him, I won’t give it to you.”

You shook your head, a sad sigh breathing from your lips. “I wasn’t asking for it, your grace. And with all due respect, I’m not just your niece. I’m his daughter. Not yours. I wasn’t raised to think you were ever in the right towards him.”

The door which closed behind you sealed you and Lord Stark inside. You have to admit, there was nothing more of a bizarre shock to the day this had been, then being told Lord Arryn and Lord Stannis had visited this brothel together. You father alone being here was enough to conjure an image of him that you wondered how rigid and emotionless you came across to these woman as he likely did.

Lord Baelish had urged you and Lord Stark to visit his establishment, to see the last person Jon Arryn visited before his death.

The girl in front of you, her name Mhaegen, was little more then a child. Younger then you, but you doubted with your heart that were you to ask Lord Baelish how old she was, that he’d give you an honest answer. In her arms, was a stunning baby girl.

Bright green eyes, already the makings of a strong face of dark hair and once more a ping inside you clung. Two actually, but the first one was how much of a Baratheon this little girl was. “She looks like him, don’t she, My lady? She has his nose, his black hair?”

You stood slightly in front of Lord Stark, running your finger down the girl’s cheek. She looked so much like Shireen did at that age, you wondered if you held her, would she yank at a stand of your hair until your head was leaning cuddled against hers. Something your new baby sister had loved to do when you could still hold her at that time.

But this baby wasn’t just a reminder of your sister, it wasn’t even a clue of mystery about how this all connected to Lord Arryns death. No, you were looking at this baby girl, your raging Uncle’s bastard daughter and you were stunned by this was your cousin.

This small girl was your cousin like Joffery was, and yet this girl smiled weakly as you tickled the side of her neck with a coo and a smile. How many of them were in this city alone? How many of them didn’t have a clue that they belonged to a family that could give them life outside of the poverty of flea bottom?

Lord Stark stepped up beside you, as the no doubt teenage girl looked to him. “I named her Barra. Tell him when you see him, my lord. If it pleases you, tell him how beautiful she is?”

Lord Stark said he would, but you both knew it would not matter. The King barley had any love in his heart shown towards his own children, for as many faults as Queen Cersei had no one could doubt the love for her children was a real as her hair was blonde.

Children, babies, that meant nothing to the man your uncle had become.

“And tell him I’ve been with no one else. I swear it my lord. By the old gods and the new. I don’t want no jewels or nothing, just him. The King was always good to me.”

The gods have mercy what a web of lies King Robert had played this girl up to, to think he’d ever entertain her as more then something to warm his bed and little Barra as anything but a bastard to cast out beacuse highborns like the King had no use for anything that didn’t bear his name or his house’s titles.

Perhaps becoming a Stark was the final nail hammered in that deemed you not one of him anymore.

Lord Stark asked what it was Jon Arryn wanted, and to the only amusement you found that day, she looked almost worried she painted the wrong idea of him. “He wasn’t that sort of man, my lord. He just wanted to know if the child was happy. And healthy.”

He looked at the glee on the young mothers face at her babe, the longing and tragedy deep within your eyes barley hidden by a steel mask that weight you down. He ran his hand over the baby’s foot gently as he spoke, “She looks healthy enough to me. She’ll want for nothing.”

He didn’t have to pull you physically, but it seemed like tearing away from the girl was a cruel task. Just an infant who had a lifetime of poverty and neglect in front of her all beacuse your King Uncle had no taste for self decency. You thought too of the one in the armoury, Gendry. How learning of who his father was, would come as no comfort considering the sort of man Robert Baratheon was proving himself to be.

No child deserved to grow up fatherless, but perhaps knowing who they are could hurt or disappoint then thinking they were just a no one. Joining Lord Stark into the next room where Lord Baelish looked as relaxed as ever and you felt as rigid as ever.

It wasn’t such a place that bothered you, but it certainly was the eyes and ears of who owned it and for what. You wondered if there was even any women in this establishment who didn’t fuck just to fill Lord Baelish’s need for information.

“What do you know about King Robert’s bastards?” Lord Stark had asked him.

With a sly grin, it was impossible to tell which he looked at more. The proper Stark, or you. “Well, he has more then you for a start.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed it down as far as it could go.

“How many?”

Lord Baelish glanced at you with no doubt this time, before sliding them back to Lord Stark. “Does it matter? If you fuck enough women, some of them will give you presents.”

Presents being children who will never feel like their apart of a world that respects them.

Lord Baelish gave you no answer as he walked slowly to you, Lord Stark, and the accompanying Jory to the door. Something inside you was screeching and yelling, like it had the answer to something you weren’t quite at yet. It made your heart pound, but it also set your blood alight like it burned. You didn’t know why, and yet what arrived outside for you was it’s own present that intended to ruin.

Members of the Lannister guard surrounded the area, standing two to one of the Stark’s own household guard their spears at the ready. All three of you slowly wandering into the streets slowly, your lips parted as galloping came forth until a horse with Jaime Lannister sat atop came by. “Such a small pack of wolves.”

He was not a foe you could beat, nor were you prepared for such at all kind of fight. Not truly. Jory using a calm reason to such aggression. “Stand back, Ser. This is the Hand of the King.”

The eyes on him were glinting with smugness but anger. “Was the Hand of the King. Now I’m not sure what he is, Lord of somewhere very far away.” Climbing off the horse, he paced every so slowly with a bravado only a true dangerous fighter could pull off like he could. “I’m looking for my brother. You remember my brother, Lord Stark? Blond hair, sharp tongue, short man.”

Lord Stark steady and calm as you were with a heart that wanted to strangle your lungs from within, “I remember him well.”

Looking to the side at nothing, there was as smirk that seemed to think the northerners cared to play such a game, or you for that matter. “It seems he had some trouble on the road. You wouldn’t know what happened to him, would you?”

He had done none of that, but Lord Stark did not go against his wife’s actions even for a single second as he declared, “He was taken at my command. To answer for his crimes.”

Lannister men shaking their amour as some reached for a better hold on their weapons as the lion pulled his. “Come, Stark. I’d rather see you die sword in hand.”

Moment of anger, or naivety, or just a helpless love you stepped forward with sharp narrowed eyes, “If you threaten my lord again-”

Lord Stark held a hand out, gently keeping you in place and by his side despite the lion pointing his sword with a smirk. “Threaten? As in, I’m going to open your lord from balls to brains and see what Stark’s are made of?”

“You kill me, your brother’s a dead man.”

It all happened so fast, Jaime turning to his own, “Take them both alive, kill his men.”

You had little on you, a small blade that you pulled from a pocket that fit in the palm of your hand almost. You sliced it at the weak softness on the Lannister armour of the one who approached you, crying out as blood split from the cut and you ducked to avoid his counter.

You were fast but it was against too many and a woman whom had no armour, only a dress, and no real weapons to speak off as the Stark guardsmen were taken out most by surprise. As you moved, almost punching into the neck of a Lannister one it punctured a wound enough to have him sputter up and fall to the side as Jaime Lannister shoved a small dagger of his own into Jory’s eye.

Stood in shock for just long enough that the rest were overwhelmed until it was them against the two of you. Lord Stark pulling his own sword, you were suddenly hauled backwards by two arms which didn’t feel like armour was behind them.

Lord Baelish’s voice in your ear as you fought against him was a whisper, “You’re far more useful alive then dead, my dear.”

You were not strong, something Jon, Robb and your father all trained to to keep in mind. Even a man like Lord Baelish could keep you as long as he tried harder then your muscles did, but you couldn’t. You watched the two men clash swords, Jaime confident and Lord Stark desperate. You had hardly seen the Lannister fight in person, but he must have been quite good as for the briefest of seconds?

Lord Starks sword pushing him backwards, his eyes flickered between the man and the weapon worried that there might be a possibility that he loses. Just as Jaime lost the upper hand, one of the Lannister guards stepped forward.

With a harsh push, stabbed his spear into Lord Stark’s leg bringing him to his knees. Already shaking, you gasped with what little breath remained as the hold keeping you from the fight loosened. Enough to slip your arm just enough to lunge back into the middle of his chest.

Jaime standing back in hesitation, watching as you rushed to his side, uncaring of the sweat and blood staining your arms and dress as you grabbed Lord Stark to keep him from collapsing entirely. He shook from the pain and blood loss, you shook from the shock and pathetic cry of how useless you were in a place like this gods forsaken city.

Jaime Lannister climbed atop his horse, turning in place as he gave you both one last look that radiated of both anger and something like a sympathy that you wished you could snatch away and shove down his throat until it choked him. “My brother, Lord Stark. I want him back.”

The City Watch had found you like that, a barley conscious Eddard Stark with a spear in his leg as you looked to the dead around you. Killed for what? In retribution of a man who tried to have a ten year old boy murdered twice?

The weakening look in Lord Stark’s eyes as he grew weaker, your lungs did not breathe nor did it feel like your heart ever stopped threatening to explode from your chest.

For a reason you could not explain, the sight or the light and angle making his appearance remind you so close to that of his son, you for a brief second imagined Robb in his place.

You didn’t understand why your mind conjured such an image, but you knew it horrified you all the same.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine #jon snow #robb stark #ned stark

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youngerfrankenstein · 1 month ago

Text

Popping in briefly because I finally watched Transformers ONE!

It. Is.

OKAY! It’s pretty fun. Thoughts under the cut.

I was not wrong about a lot of the humour being quite bad. Not that there weren’t also moments that made me laugh but enough made me eye roll to not mention it. B-127 did get the worst of it, with perhaps one joke near the end that had me losing it while mostly wishing he was mute in this movie too.

It also really fell into the trap of what seems to be a lot of modern Transformers media trying to cram in as many iconic catchphrases as possible. It gets exasperating. Make a new one. That said there were a lot of little referential moments that made me smile! Like Wheeljack’s one major contributing factor to the story being accidentally blowing something up.

Story was alright, but felt really rushed to me. Like I get that they had an hour and a half to get everyone at least adjacent to their starting positions, and they did the best they could. But it still felt off. Particularly D-16 given his fall felt less like a descent and more like finding out one awful truth and plummeting off a cliff to become turbo-Hitler. Though I will say they do a decent enough job given the parameters. Things like Orion immediately going “okay how do we help everyone else?” and Dee going “I want personal revenge.” Highlights the main differences between them and why one of them is cut out to be a leader. Also things like Dee being the one to always stick to protocol and will be the leader whose style is very much “do as I say or die.” I will say they did a good job of actually making D-16 and Orion feel like friends with the limited time. Which is good, because I don’t know if the movie could have worked otherwise.

Nothing particularly surprising either. Though it’s kinda to be expected. Guessed Sentinel sold out Cybertron to the Quintessons well before the movie came out. And fortunately they don’t really expect you to care about robot politics besides “Sentinel Sucks”, though looking back I’m not sure why I was worried. Also I think he’s my favourite character. I’m a real sucker for fun villains as is probably very clear by now, and he is very fun. Even if the engineered confession was cliché. Part of this is probably also because I tend to like Jon Hamm. Which I guess brings me to the cast.

If I’m being totally honest the voices for none of the main four really work for me? Brian Tyree Henry is definitely the one who works the most to his credit. Hemsworth is… fine. He’s fine. He could be a lot worse. Though other than them most of the cast works well for me. Though I do still wish there was more respect for voice acting as an actual career by Hollywood. That said Soundwave’s voice was done well and that is all I ask.

As for things I just straight up enjoyed the animation is REALLY good. And I really like a lot of the designs! The bots, the train, THE QUINTESSON SHIP!!! Also kind of like the whole Fisher King thing Cybertron seems to have going on

[Cinematic Parallels]

And the fact it’s constantly transforming. The ACTION! So well done. All I really wanted was a thrilling punch-up between Optimus and Megatron and I GOT IT! There’s also the frequent use of blatant irony which is MY cringy dialogue trope! Favourite of course: “No more false prophets!” <- False prophet seconds before robot Jesus shows back up.

(Perhaps irony is not quite right but it did make me smile.)

And the most minor one, Oppy getting the Castlevania axe subweapon.

All in all I do hope we get a Transformers TWO. I think there’s more story to be told in this universe, it feels somewhat fresh. And I think with a bit more space to flesh things out it could be quite good! Also I just want to see the gang fight the Quintessons. (Big Quintesson fan here. #bringbacktheG1origin)

Was it the best Transformers film? No. That’s still Bumblebee, and by a country mile.

But was it a good time for the kids?

Yeah, I would think so! Mission accomplished.

#Transformers #Maccadam #TF1 #Transformers ONE

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bellysoupset · 9 months ago

Note

OMG, the strep throat fix is so good!! Any chance for a part 2???!

LETS GOOOOO

Part 2 bc I thought of a way to use it for Part 3 🙈 Queen of self control.

------------------

"This is so embarrassing," Leo grumbled, rolling on the couch and pressing his feverish face to Jonah's tummy, voice coming out even more muffled by his sweater.

He felt, more than heard, his boyfriend chuckle, a hand resting on Leo's shoulder. The movement caused the sweater to slightly suffocate him, which would've been fine any other day, but given that he could only breathe through his mouth since his nose was stuffed, it caused a coughing fit and Leo sprung up.

He coughed and coughed until his ribs hurt, a horrible taste flooding his mouth and his head spinning from the lack of oxygen. The hot soup he had had for dinner tickling his throat, but Leo swallowed it back down.

It was embarrassing enough that he had crashed into Wendy's apartment five hours earlier than he should be, sick, and had caused Vince to stay behind from hanging out with his girlfriend. It was mortifying that he had to shower in her private bathroom, just to bring the fever down. Leo didn't want to add throwing up in her couch to the list of offenses.

"Here," Wendy's voice broke through the fog and Leo wiped at his eyes. It felt like they were burning and his head was throbbing. He really wanted to go home, but after all the stress he had put Jonah through in the morning, Leo was willing to sit around since the other man seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself.

Normally Vince's personality — earnest, warm, positive —, brought out all the sass Jonah had. It wasn't that he didn't love the guy, Leo knew damn well that wasn't case, it was just that he couldn't help the sarcasm with someone who was so sincere. However, that wasn't the case today.

Leo wasn't sure if the fever was playing tricks on him, but it seemed like Jon had forgotten his walls at the door... He had missed Vince, even if he would never say it out loud.

"What?" Leo asked tiredly, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead and rubbing at it, as if he could remove the pain. Wendy sat near his foot on the couch, holding a metal tin.

"I knew I had this somewhere," she said, showing him the case and Leo stared at it, his brain refusing to cooperate.

"Vicks VapoRub?" Jonah sounded amused, "that's some mum stuff."

Wendy rolled her eyes at him, opening the tin, "lean back, Leo," she instructed and Leo frowned, instead of obeying.

He blinked owlishly at her, "I'm fine," the rasp sounded ridiculous even to his own ears and Jonah let out a scoff, while Wendy completely ignored him, pushing him back against his boyfriend.

"Get his shirt?" She asked, grabbing a dollop of the gel and Leo's frown deepened as he felt Jonah's hands pulling his shirt up.

"What the- No!" Leo whined when Wendy promptly smeared the gel on his naked chest. His whole face burnt with embarrassment and he brought his hands up, angrily covering his face, "this is so humiliating."

"You're really not my type, don't worry," Wendy teased him, "I don't do blondes," she continued to spread the gel around. Leo felt Jon press a kiss to his temple, but he still didn't pull back his hand, hoping the ground would open and swallow him. He couldn't believe he was getting rubbed down by Wendy, of all people.

"Shut up," Leo groaned, then whined when Jon pushed his hands down. Wendy was grinning at him, her cheeks pink and her green eyes alight with mischief.

"Leo, relax," she rubbed the gel up to his clavicle, her cold fingers making goosebumps spring up and causing Leo to blush even more, if that was possible. He was sure he looked great, swimming in an old sweats set from Vince, with the large sweat shirt all but tucked under his chin; His hair had dried all weird and was sticking out as if he was part of a grunge rock band, and now Wendy was sitting near his hip, lathering him in minty gel.

He let out a heavy sigh and sniffled grossly, reaching to wipe at his raw nose with the sleeve, only for Jonah to manifest a soft tissue in front of him.

"D-anks," Leo mumbled, blowing his nose again and clutching the tissue in a fist when the action caused his head to swim again. He groaned and slumped on Jon's shoulder, breathing through his mouth, "this is horrible."

"I know," Jonah continued to hold him, almost halfway across his lap like an overgrown baby, "let's head home?"

Yes, Leo thought, but he could clearly tell Jon did not want a positive answer. Not with how large he was smiling. He shook his head no, closing his eyes.

"In a bit," Leo said, shivering as Wendy tugged his sweatshirt down and then the minty cream started to warm up his skin and unclog his nose. He cuddled up even closer to Jonah as he could, trying to melt in his arms.

"So you were saying about school?" Jon said, his voice a note lower, rumbling in his chest, "how are the kids treating you?"

"The little ones are easy," Vince answered and Leo heard a squeal, probably him grabbing Wendy and causing her to fall on his lap, on the opposite couch, "the seniors are a bit of an issue. I don't think they give much of a fuck about my class at all."

"I mean, I sure didn't give a fuck about my history classes," Jonah teased him, while Wendy interrupted with a delighted sigh.

"Tell him about the pies," Leo could clearly hear the smile in her voice and the smugness in Vince's as he answered.

"I got five different moms bringing me pie this week, as a welcoming gift to the school board."

Jonah laughed, "you're already getting bribes?"

"Not bribes," Wendy sounded more smug than Vince, "they're flirting with him."

"No way," Jonah, incredulous, eagerly sitting up and causing Leo to groan as it moved him. Immediately Jonah settled back down, combing his fingers through his hair, "sorry, sorry- No way?"

"Yes, way," Wendy scoffed, "he's the new hot teacher, did you expect anything less?"

"Hot is an overstatement," Jonah teased, while Vince chuckled.

"Go fuck yourself, Banks- Leo, do you want a blanket?"

Leo was nearly drifting off, but almost as if he had missed a step in a set of stairs, he jerked from the slumber, forcing his eyes open. His stomach felt weird and his head cottony, vision slightly fuzzy as he rolled on the couch in order to see his friend.

True to what he had guessed, Vince was sitting in the other couch, with Wendy perched on his thigh.

"Whaa-"

"Do you want a blanket?" Vin repeated the question, looking concerned and before Leo could nod in agreement, Jon interrupted.

"He's still really warm, better not."

Leo whined, whole face scrunching up. He was freezing. He dug his feet on the couch, burying them in the crack between futons, and curled up, trying to prove that he did need a blanket. Lucas would've gotten him one.

"No, he wouldn't," Jonah answered him with a huff and Leo frowned, confused and blinking drowsily, all his limbs feeling heavy.

"Uh...?"

"Go to sleep," Jon rolled his eyes, stroking his cheek, "I'll wake you in a bit."

"Mmm'kay," Leo sighed, leaning against the soft touch and vaguely hearing as Vince tried to argue with Jon and Wendy that one blanket surely wouldn't kill him... Then the words all became white noise and all Leo could feel was Jon running his fingers through his hair and suddenly a blanket being tucked around him by rougher, bigger hands.

#mywriting #sickfic #fever #cold #strep throat #leo wagner #VERY fluffy and 3 caretakers for Leo

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one-strugling-bean · 2 months ago

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Update on my TMA binge: 1st season has been finished.

Below are my main sticking points:

The voice acting is so gooooooood!! Im loving everyone's voices - they all portray their characters emotions and personalities so well!

Jon kinda has the golden medal tho, since hes by far the most prominent voice

Abt the side characters - Martin took me by surprise so hard when he first spoke. I was expecting like..... A big, chill himbo. Kinda like Kronk or Launchpad but less loud, with a grave voice. (Ig part of me had imagined the Martin from Adventure Time?) I was def not expecting the voice of a prepubescent teen.

Anyway, he's baby. Precious to no end but also surprisingly useful and smart? He's an absolute 10/10 I mean. Would buy him sweets and listen to his rambles abt spiders (jon how can you call him a useless ass, he's so un-insultable??? q~q)

Sashaaaaaaa what happened to my favorite gurl???? And also the only one... She was literally the only reason everyone else escaped the worms, Sasha saved everyone's butts. By far the most competent and brave of the squad - a true Gryffindor u-u

But im afraid she died from whatever got her in the storage unit... I've been skimming through the comment section on each episode's youtube video, and some of them seem to imply she's dead for good... I reaaaaally don't want that to be true, she was so cool!! and the single holder of the Archives braincell!! I dont want her to die ;-;

And Tim!! Tim had the least amount of recorded time, but he's already a fave too. Him pretending to be Jon right before Sasha tackled him was so so funny. Also, ig he's kinda what I thought Martin would be. So no losses there!

Elias is.... Weird. Weird in the sense that he seems so obviously suspicious, i hesitate to pin the blame of anything on him. Like it's too easy to be true you know??? Like they're making him look shady on purpose to distract us from the actual shadiness going on. Idk though. He's shown up so little until now he might just have nothing to do with nothing, or be the big final boss. He's got me very confused (also his voice is sooooo cool, i love it. He gives me stern professor vibes)

How much the statements creep me out highly depends on what they're abt. Like, so far, the scariest have been Piecemeal 14#, Lost John's Cave 15#, and Infestation 39# purely because of all the screaming.

And abt the bigger story..... Idk about anything yet, but I'm very curious indeed.

The Dreamer #11 keeps coming back to me when i try to piece it together. Wth was supposed to happen to Gertrude?? Did it come to pass, and it was somehow how she ended up shot, or... did she find a way to kill herself so as not to have to face that fate?? And now Jon has to because he's in her place???

I rly dunno abt anything yet. Im just vibin and listening to all these spooks and having fun. I shall continue doing so rn actually.

End statement or whatever :p

(part 3 has been posted)

#tma podcast #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #timothy stoker #sasha james #elias bouchard #uhhhh i think thats it #my tma reaction journey

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grigori77 · 4 months ago

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Movies of 2024 - My Summer Rundown (Part 2)

10. BOY KILLS WORLD – Turns out this was a really GREAT SUMMER for action cinema, and the first genre entry here is EXACTLY what you’d expect from the true master of anarchic movie mayhem, Sam Raimi, here producing the feature debut of ambitious young German visual effects artist-turned writer-director Moritz Mohr. The newcomer’s crazy PERFECTLY compliments our veteran’s crazy, because this is like if The Raid movies had been made by Don Coscarelli (see John Dies At the End for reference) – basically a geeky love letter to classic 90s 16-bit beat-‘em-up video games, it follows the bizarre misadventures of Bill Skarsgard’s “the Boy”, a traumatised deaf-mute orphan raised and trained to become a lethal living weapon by a mysterious (and genuinely WEIRD) jungle shaman (The Raid’s own Yayan Ruhian) in order to avenge his family’s brutal murder at the hands of the Van Der Kroys, the bloodthirsty organised crime family holding their dystopian city under a cruel thumb of violent oppression. The film has been described as a “fever dream”, and honestly that’s a pretty accurate assessment – this is a COMPLETELY FUCKING MENTAL film, frequently spiralling off on surreal flights of fancy as its already pretty bonkers plot starts to unravel in truly WEIRD directions, but thankfully this adds to the unique charm a lot more than it ever threatens to alienate the viewer, sticking to JUST the right side of satirical parody while delivering a consistently winning line of jet black comedy. Besides, the MAIN attraction here is EXACTLY what most viewers come to this kind of film for, and Mohr EASILY delivers in this venue – the action sequences are INCREDIBLE, flawlessly executed even as they frequently become as downright INSANE as every other aspect of the film, and without pulling ANY punches to deliver some of the year’s most gratuitously GRAPHIC blood-and-guts. Skarsgard is, like always, thoroughly BRILLIANT throughout, effortlessly proving what an incredibly expressive physical actor he can be since he never speaks a word throughout the entire film … but that doesn’t mean the Boy doesn’t get his point across just fine, the film delivering a pretty ingenious conceit by having him speak to us through his “inner monologue”, using the announcer voice from his favourite arcade game when he was a child (voice actor extraordinaire H. Jon Benjamin, star of Archer, Bob’s Burgers and Dr Katz, Professional Therapist). Then there’s the top-notch supporting cast, featuring the likes of Michelle Dockery, Stranger Things’ Brett Gelman, Sharlto Copley and Famke Jansen as the uniformly despicable Van Der Kroys, Jessica Rothe (Happy Death Day and its sequel) as their lethal enforcer June 27, and Andrew Koji (Warrior, Snake Eyes, Bullet Train) as Basho, the affable oddball resistance fighter the Boy befriends and enlists into his crusade along with Benny (the Old Spice Man himself, Isaiah Mustafa), a mighty warrior with a thick beard and moustache who provides some of the film’s biggest belly-laughs (for reasons it’s best for you to find out for yourselves, trust me). Relentlessly ridiculous, unflinchingly messy and frequently laugh-out-loud hilarious, this is definitely one of the year’s most unapologetically ODD films, but also definitely one of the most FUN too, as well as a spectacular showcase for the talents of a VERY fresh new filmmaking talent who is doubtless destined for great things in the future. Just be forewarned, it definitely AIN’T one for the faint-of-heart or weak-of-stomach …

9. THE MINISTRY OF UNGENTLEMANLY WARFARE – Once again Hollywood is making it ABUNDANTLY clear they just DON’T LIKE Guy Ritchie any more, and I have NO IDEA WHY … despite 2020’s The Gentleman becoming a modest box office hit and signifying what many considered a triumphant return to form for the man who brought us the likes of Snatch, RocknRolla and the Sherlock Holmes movies (although personally I never thought he actually really fell off, despite what Swept Away and Aladdin might have made us think), his subsequent releases all got largely BURIED online – granted, some of it was down to COVID, but even after everything started to get back to normal the inexplicably disrespectful treatment continued, with Wrath of Man and The Covenant, both impressively well-executed and evocative cinematic features in their own rights, getting released straight to streaming with frustratingly little fanfare to drum up the attention they clearly deserved. At least this one made it into theatres, but with a lacklustre advertising campaign and stiff competition from much more high profile fare it sank like a stone, almost like Lionsgate didn’t even WANT IT to succeed. Even worse, for some unbelievably stupid reason it didn’t even RELEASE

in the UK, meaning I had to wait until it subsequently hit Amazon for me to finally get to check it out. The most frustrating part, though, is that the critics CLEARLY feel the same as I do about the film we actually received – this is a TOP DRAWER piece of work, further proof that Ritchie never actually LOST a step, another genuine belter of a flick which takes a brilliant premise and crafts an offbeat and deliciously entertaining cinematic caper than really deserved to be seen by a really big audience on a proper big screen. Taken from Winston Churchill’s declassified WWII files, it follows the true life exploits of special forces commando Gus March-Phillips (Henry Cavill) as he put together a covert team in order to execute a highly classified raid on a German U-boat outfitting operation in the hopes of crippling the subs long enough to help bring the Americans into the War. The only problem? March-Phillips was a disgraced loose-cannon, a fiercely independent troublemaker with a reputation for going off-mission and a major dislike of authority figures … he was also the original inspiration for James Bond, then mid-ranking SOE-officer Ian Fleming using him as the basis for the mercurial protagonist of his best-selling spy novels (and the rest, of course, is history). Needless to say, it looks like this will be the closest Cavill’s ever gonna get to actually playing Bond, and he really sank his teeth into this opportunity, clearly having the time of his life investing the character with his trademark twinkle and roguish charm (as well as an amusing appreciation for fine men’s fashions); he’s the ironclad backbone of the film, driving the action and story with typical aplomb, and is ably supported by a winningly motley collection of misanthropes, the gang of miscreants March-Phillips put together to execute Operation Postmaster brought to life in pitch-perfect performances from Alan Ritchson (Reacher), Alex Pettyfer, Eiza Gonzalez, Henry Golding and more, while there’s an enjoyably NASTY turn from Inglourious Basterds’ Til Schweiger as the film’s dastardly big bad, SS Commandant Heinrich Luhr, and Ritchie regular Cary Elwes brings his classic stiff-upper-lip to bear as the operation’s top CO, Brigadier Colin Gubbins, while an all-but-unrecognisable Rory Kinnear portrays a suitably gruff Winston Churchill. Ultimately, Ritchie delivers an enjoyably fiendish heist movie masquerading as a war flick, the plot snaking with crafty glee through a series of expertly executed set-pieces and ingenious little twists before finally landing a brilliantly cathartic climax which pays winning respect to the real life heroes that inspired the film, along with one of the greatest espionage thriller franchises OF ALL TIME. That alone should have won this movie some respect, at least enough to raise its profile, and it’s a criminal shame it’s been treated with SUCH glaring disrespect. Here’s hoping it earns the cult classic status it deserves, that might redress SOME of the balance …

8. THE FALL GUY – Stuntman-turned-director David Leitch’s latest film (following on from well-deserved previous successes co-helming the first John Wick film before striking out on his own with Atomic Blonde, Deadpool 2, Hobbs & Shaw and Bullet Train) is not only a genuinely EXTRAORDINARY big screen adaptation of one of the classic old school action adventure TV shows I grew up watching (alongside Knight Rider, The A-Team and Airwolf), but also raises one of the great unanswered questions of cinema – why isn’t there an Academy Award for stunts? Anyway … turns out that Ken, in last-year’s runaway hit Barbie, wasn’t the only role that Ryan Gosling was born to play – he’s equally perfect for the role of Colt Seavers, the seasoned “unsung hero” who makes all those action hero movie stars look so awesome, at least until an on-set accident left him with a near career-ending back injury which forced him into semi-retirement. He’s brought back into the game, however, when the action movie star he used to double for, Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), disappears midway through the production of the debut directorial feature of his former lover, camera-operator Jody Moreno (Emily Blunt). On paper he’s here to fill in for Ryder, but he’s really been brought in to find the missing star before the studio gets wise and shuts down production, but as he delves into what turns out to be a pretty tangled mystery it becomes clear that Colt might not really be the right man for the job … unfortunately he’s all they got … Gosling may be a master of understated performance, but as I’ve learned over the years (particularly from the criminally underappreciated The Nice Guys) he’s ALSO a master of comedic acting, and he’s really firing on all cylinders for this one, frequently damn near stealing the show from a high class cast who are nonetheless all equal to the task. Blunt is, as always, as flawlessly charming as she is STUNNINGLY beautiful, while Taylor-Johnson is clearly really enjoying playing a supreme douchebag of a preening self-promoting prima donna, Ted Lasso’s Hannah Waddington frequently walks off with her scenes as supremely oily producer Gail Meyer, and Everything Everywhere All At Once’s Stephanie Hsu and the great Winston Duke both hold their own admirably as Ryder’s put-upon personal assistant Alma and Colt’s long-suffering best friend, stunt coordinator Dan Tucker. Needless to say, Leitch has long since proven that he is a MASTER of on-screen mayhem, effortlessly ushering in some of the very best action sequences we’re going to see in the cinema this year, but he also once again proves he’s ALSO a master of big screen comedy, bringing the pitch perfect screenplay from Drew Pearce (who previously wrote Hobbs & Shaw, as well as Iron Man 3 and his own directorial debut Hotel Artemis) to effervescent primary-coloured life as a gleefully anarchic and thoroughly irreverent celebration of action cinema excess and the gruelling hard work that it takes to actually make it all possible, all done with barely ANY digital trickery at all. All round, then, this was some of the most fun I’ve had at the cinema this year (so far), and once again, it really does raise that all-time great question – why isn’t there an Oscar for stunt work? Gods know this one would definitely have been a shoe-in next Awards season …

7. MARS EXPRESS – My animated feature of the summer is a pretty singular work which came out of leftfield and really took me by surprise, a science fiction murder mystery thriller of rare vision, inventiveness and beauty which is tempered with a fascinating and more than a little troubling thematic message which raises far more questions than it answers. Marking the feature debut of French writer-director Jeremie Perin (Crisis Jung, Lastman), it chronicles the investigation of two very unusual private investigators – world weary former soldiers Aline Ruby (Lea Drucker of Fox’s War of the Worlds TV series) and Carlos Rivera (The Crimson Rivers’ Daniel Njo Lobe), the latter of whom is now a kind of simulant android whose recorded consciousness was uploaded into an robotic body after he was killed in action – on a colonised Mars as they hunt for the cause of a supposedly harmless robot’s sudden malfunction and subsequent violent rampage. As they tumble deeper down an alarmingly perilous rabbit hole, they uncover a terrifying clandestine conspiracy involving corporate malfeasance which may include their sometimes employer, tech billionaire Chris Royjacker (the great Mathieu Almaric), rogue AI and a looming technological revolution which could spell disaster for the Red Planet … this is a genuinely INTRIGUING film, Perin and co-writer Laurent Sarfati (who previously worked with him on Lastman) weaving a seductively labyrinthine detective story which works magnificently well as an ingenious sci-fi take on the classic Noir formula, but also delivers an equally fascinating Philip K. Dick-esque treatise on the potential dangers of the unchecked development of artificial intelligence and far more fundamentally challenging questions about what it really means to be alive, and to be human. It’s also genuinely THRILLING, propelling the story at a furious pace generously peppered with a string of intensely full-blooded action sequences, as well as a genuinely GORGEOUS work of animated art, the exquisite mixture of 2D and digital animation (looking like a slicker version of Titmouse’s work on Scavengers Reign) rivalling some of the best anime I’ve seen but nonetheless somehow carrying a conspicuously FRENCH vibe. Altogether this is a magnificent achievement for an up-and-coming filmmaking talent whose work I will DEFINITELY be keeping an eye out for the future, as well as a BREATHTAKING masterpiece of this cinematic artform. I highly recommend hunting it down.

6. TWISTERS – Back in 1996, Jan de Bont’s man-against-nature action thriller Twister turned out to be one of the most undeniably enjoyable summer blockbusters of the 90s, and it’s one of those rare CGI-heavy features from the fledgling digital days that STILL holds up impressively well today. It also DEFINITELY worked perfectly well on its own merits, with no need for a sequel and CERTAINLY not a remake … so when it was announced that there was going to be one after all, like many I was suitably dubious. I mean the story was told perfectly well in the original, there’s nothing new that could really be said in a follow-up, right? Turns out there actually IS, though, and I’m pleased to report that Minari director Lee Isaac Chung’s new film lives up to its predecessor in fine style, thanks in no small part to him and screenwriter Mark L Smith (The Revenant, Overlord and The Midnight Sky) clearly taking the lessons of the 1996 film very much to heart and bringing us a fresh serving of everything that worked so well last time round while carving impressive fresh ground for a genuinely rewarding original story moving forward. That being said, the greatest strength of the original wasn’t the effects anyway – it was the wonderfully well-rounded, fully-realised characters we followed into the film’s myriad dangers, and this one definitely pulls off the same feat, introducing a new generation of tornado chasers out to pioneer new scientific tech and hopefully save the lives of people living in the strife-torn environs of America’s Tornado Alley. Glen Powell (hot off major career-making turns in Top Gun: Maverick and Hit Man) may be the heavyweight star power in this particular cast, and he’s definitely great, scene-stealing fun as Tyler Owens, the self-proclaimed “Tornado Wrangler” of YouTube, but the true heart of the film is Daisy Edgar-Jones (Fresh, Where the Crawdads Sing, Normal People) as meteorologist Kate Carter, who’s looking for redemption for past mistakes which led to the deaths of most of her old storm-chasing team, while Anthony Ramos (Hamilton and In the Heights) is certainly the soul as Javi, Kate’s former colleague who’s looking to help her realise her goal through his new tech venture Storm Par; there’s also hefty support from the likes of Brandon Perea (Nope), Sasha Lane (American Honey, Daniel Isn’t Real), David Corenswet (soon to be the new Superman in James Gunn’s DCU reboot) and even my girl Katy O’Brian (Love Lies Bleeding, Z Nation, The Mandalorian)! They’re all just as fleshed out as Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt’s crew were back in the day, a compelling collection of lovable misfits we’re happy to go on this crazy death-defying adventure with, which of course does SO MUCH of the heavy lifting with regards to the tension-building because we get so deeply invested in them all. That being said, the film definitely doesn’t scrimp on spectacle, the visual effects work having improved SIGNIFICANTLY on what was already impressively high quality work back in ’96, leading to some truly TERRIFYING set-pieces that would definitely surprise anyone who only knows Chung for his critically acclaimed and award-winning dramatic work (but less for anyone familiar with his work on The Mandalorian), which means I am VERY curious to see what he’ll deliver this Christmas on the highly anticipated Star Wars-based Skeleton Crew TV series. This is a far cry from just pure by-the-numbers summer blockbuster fare, then, a heavyweight event pic with a surprising amount of substance and a hefty dose of proper FEELS to go with all that adrenaline and eye candy, and it’s MORE THAN worthy successor to an already rightly beloved classic.

5. FURIOSA – 2015’s Mad Max: Fury Road was not only one of the greatest films of the last decade, but was also the undeniable MASTERPIECE of director George Miller’s career, even managing to (almost) eclipse his classic FIRST sequel, The Road Warrior. It was a triumph of visual storytelling, two hours of furious all-action mayhem with barely any digital trickery in evidence, and brought us one of the greatest female protagonists of all time in the irrepressible warrior woman who managed to overshadow Max Rockatansky himself – Imperator Furiosa, perfectly brought to life by an ON FIRE Charlize Theron. It was, quite simply, A PERFECT FILM. So did it really NEED a prequel, chronicling the story of what led such a badass lady to undertake the gruelling crusade of that most exceptional of cinematic extravaganzas? Honestly? Not really. But does that matter? No, not at all. As soon as Miller started touting this as a project those of us who flipped out SO HARD over Fury Road IMMEDIATELY started frothing at the mouth at the possibilities … it was just that the more pragmatic among us were also a little worried that he might not be able to capture lightning in a bottle all over again. Well, we never should have doubted him, Miller was definitely equal to the task – Furiosa may not be QUITE as good as the film it chronologically precedes, but as an origin story it is MAGNIFICENT, a sprawling, gruelling, exhausting post-apocalyptic action epic that definitely does flawless justice to such an incredibly strong character. I don’t want to give too much away plot-wise, it’s better to just jump in and ABSORB it all, suffice to say that this does indeed reveal how the child Furiosa was stolen from her seemingly idyllic life in an oasis in the middle of the radioactive Australian wasteland, dragged out into the middle of a brutally hostile desert filled with warfare, insanity and SERIOUSLY POWERFUL VEHICLES and forced to forge herself into an indomitable, merciless and uncompromising living weapon in order to survive, thrive and find her way back to her long lost Green Place. Anya Taylor-Joy is a fine choice indeed for a more youthful Furiosa, subtly nuanced and filled with simmering intensity buried under a haughty mask of righteous untouchability,

but she doesn’t even TURN UP until the midway point of the film, the lion’s share of the work to establish her unbreakable character through her lost childhood ultimately going to The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart’s Ayla Browne (who previously performed for Miller on Three Thousand Years of Longing), and she is nothing less than a TOTAL FUCKING REVELATION in the role. Chris Hemsworth frequently steals the film as the best villain the franchise has EVER HAD (and that says a lot in a series that includes Hugh Keys-Byrne’s Toecutter), self-aggrandising preening peacock Dementus, who gleefully tips from adorably camp to chillingly monstrous to pompously flamboyant at the drop of a hat, effortlessly holding court over the likes of Nathan Jones’ spectacularly ridiculous Rictus Erectus and Romper Stomper’s Lachy Hulme as a more youthful incarnation of his tyrannical father Immortan Joe, while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke is equal parts heroic and stoic as Praetorian Jack, the doughty War Rig commander who takes Furiosa on as his protégé, and model-turned actress Charlee Fraser (Anyone But You) rules over the opening scenes as her ferociously protective mother, Mary Jabassa. Miller delivers in fine style on the action like always, the War Rig chase in particular sure to go down as the year’s most memorable action sequence, and once again there’s a pleasing reliance on physical stunt-work, practical sets and good old fashioned elbow grease over CGI throughout that does its predecessor proud. That being said, this one is NOT a breakneck movie-long chase, its more leisurely, sometime quite introspective pace instead going a long way to let the story breathe and the peerless world-building develop, although there is still a characteristic relentlessness to the tale which means that, despite its two-and-a-half-hour runtime it never feels overlong or outstays its welcome. Then again, it once again deploys Fury Road’s secret weapon – another throbbing, propulsively atmospheric score from Tom Holkenborg – to create another very pleasurable ride through the irradiated hellscape of Miller’s Outback. I for one would be very pleased to return to it someday …

4. KINGDOM OF THE PLANET OF THE APES – Matt Reeves is a tough act to follow, even before The Batman he was already blowing us away with his star-making directorial breakthrough helming Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and its follow-up War For the Planet of the Apes. The conclusion of that latter film put a very definitive exclamation point on the franchise as a whole, making ANY attempts to continue the saga a tough prospect indeed, and something that even a seasoned filmmaker might balk at. But when I heard the proposed new trilogy, set hundreds of years after the events of War, would be directed by Wes Ball, I breathed a big sigh of relief – he did an INCREDIBLE job with the sci-fi trilogy adapting YA novelist James Dashner’s popular Maze Runner series, so I knew the saga was in very good hands indeed. Having come up in visual effects, Ball’s always maintained a very strong balance between physical and digital filmmaking, so he was certainly up to the challenge of bringing a new generation of photorealistic, vitally ALIVE super-intelligent talking apes to the big screen, as well as putting his flesh-and-blood actors through their paces with similar skill and flair. Most important, though, this film introduces a new lead protagonist who’s definitely got what it takes to succeed Andy Serkis’ mesmerizing Caesar in a new story, Owen Teague (It, I See You, Inherit the Viper, Black Mirror) thoroughly impressing in his first lead role as Noa, an uncertain young chimpanzee from an isolated tribal clan forced to grow up fast when his people are stolen in one terrifying night by masked ape raiders, leaving him to follow their trail with only intellectual orangutan Raka (The Orville’s Peter Macon) and an unusually smart “echo” (basically what humans have become since they lost their speech and intelligence) named Mae (The Witcher’s Freya Allan) to count as allies. Macon is a thoroughly endearing presence throughout, while Allan delivers a fascinatingly complex performance that fuels many of the film’s most interesting twists (although I’m sure you can spot one or two coming ahead of time); and then there’s Kevin Durand, who’s clearly having a whale of a time getting his teeth into a rewardingly robust screen villain in the form of Proximus Caesar, an ambitious bonobo warlord who’s using a corrupted version of his namesake’s teachings to build a tyrannical empire of oppressed apes – he’s not quite as compelling an antagonist as Toby Kebbell’s Koba, but he serves most admirably indeed here. Altogether, this film definitely had A LOT of heavy lifting to do to even APPROACH the heights of Reeves’ tenure on the franchise, and Ball and screenwriter Josh Friedman (War of the Wolds, Terminator: Dark Fate, Avatar: The Way of Water) have risen to the task in fine style, delivering a thrilling, affecting and inventive epic action adventure which skilfully builds on the framework provided by the previous trilogy while courageously forging ahead into the future, leaving room to venture forward into exciting further instalments. Ultimately this isn’t QUITE as good as Dawn or even War, but with this the saga remains as rewarding, compelling and majestic as ever before, and I see great things indeed in its future. I can’t wait for whatever comes next …

3. A QUIET PLACE: DAY ONE – It’s interesting, most of the time when you get a really great movie that becomes a big hit and spawns a franchise, THE LAST THING it needs is a prequel, and oftentimes when it DOES happen it feels like a shoehorned mess or even a total disrespectful retcon (they can’t ALL be Furiosa, after all). A Quiet Place was never one of those – right from the start it was clear that how it all began was going to be JUST as interesting as where the original story was going, a fact which was DEFINITELY reinforced when Part Two dropped that TERRIFYING flashback cold open. So when this finally arrived I was FIRST in my local queue, raring to go and so unswervingly excited that anything less than amazing was liable to be a disappointment. Thankfully it turned out to be EVERYTHING I was hoping for – this is a super trim 99 minutes of knuckle-whitening terror with a (by now, not really all that) surprising amount of emotional power packed in, one of those films that brings you to tears when it’s not scaring the living bejeezuz out of you, just like the first two. Lupita Nyong’o is a breath of fresh air as our new lead protagonist, Samira, a world-weary young New Yorker who’s been beaten down by a life of tragedy and chronic pain from the very same kind of advanced cancer that killed her beloved father, only to find a reason to stay alive (at least for a few more days) when the sound-seeking murder-beasts crash-land in the middle of the loudest city in the world and instantly go apeshit from all the noise. Stranger Things’ Joseph Quinn, meanwhile, puts us through the emotional wringer right from his entrance as Eric, a timid Brit law student whose anxiety is going THROUGH THE ROOF as this all goes off around him, forced to find inner reserves of courage he never knew he had after he latches onto Sam as she makes her way across the city in search of the last slice she’ll ever be able to get from her favourite Harlem pizzeria. There are equally heartfelt turns from Alex Wolff (Hereditary, Jumanji, Pig) as Reuben, Sam’s put-upon hospice nurse, and Djimon Hounsou, showing how his character started his own apocalyptic struggle as Part Two’s Henri, but perhaps the biggest stars of this film are, unsurprisingly, Nico and Schnitzel, a pair of tuxedo cats who perfectly portrayed the role of Frodo, Sam’s service cat, who’s probably THE MOST CHILLED-OUT feline I have EVER SEEN in a movie, and definitely one of the cutest. Ultimately this is an absolute TRIUMPH for its breakout writer-director, Michael Sarnoski, whose INSANELY impressive feature debut Pig already made him one to watch back in 2021, and he definitely did the original property justice while carving his own equally impressive path in the franchise. The end result, then, is a welcome addition to an already INCREDIBLE horror movie series, and definitely a strong contender for the genre’s movie of the year.

2. DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE – Damn … if ever there was a movie that I really can’t say much of ANYTHING about for fear of dropping spoilers, even if most of the fandom has already gone to see it … this is an IMPORTANT MOVIE, maybe the most important of the year, because the MCU has been on the rocks of late, despite Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 going a long way to setting its fortunes back on the right track (but then that one has very much been considered a BLIP, really), and this one looks to have SINGLEHANDEDLY knocked the whole mess back on the right track while simultaneously mercilessly ripping the piss out of the whole debacle. No, I mean IT REALLY DOES, there isn’t A SINGLE STONE that the Merc With a Mouth leaves unturned in his quest for meta-fuelled irreverence here (except maybe that dead Celestial poking out of the Pacific that nobody seems to be talking about after Eternals … or maybe I missed a joke somewhere). Anyway, this is EVERY BIT as good as James Gunn’s third and final feature for the franchise, as well as another SUPER-solid entry in what was already Fox’s now expired X-Verse’s most popular series, but most importantly it’s also an EXTREMELY successful bridging film between that and the flagging Marvel Cinematic Universe, the perfect way to bring Mutantkind into the franchise with the least amount of fuss. That being said, the BIG attraction here is, of course, getting to see two of Marvel’s biggest heavyweights going head-to-head in one movie, and of course beating seven shades of shit out of each other while they’re at it. If you will … yeah, if you haven’t seen it yet and don’t want to get spoiled, you really should jump off at this point and just GO SEE IT while they’re still milking it for every cent they can in theatres, safe in the knowledge that it’s a fucking AWESOME movie and you won’t be disappointed. Now SHOO!!! Be off with you … okay, still here? Right, then, watch me try to be as spoiler-light as I can moving forward … as much as Wade Wilson and Logan may be the very EPITOME of chalk-and-cheese onscreen, behind the scenes Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman have got on like a house on fire for a while now, ever since the former started lovingly teasing the latter in the first Deadpool movie and started his long-running campaign to lure the original Marvel Movie superstar into a big screen team-up, so it comes as NO SURPRISE that they’re both clearly having the time of their lives working together now. Their chemistry in this is OFF THE CHARTS, the pair trading razor sharp quips, dirty looks and well-deserved face-punches with gleeful abandon from their first scene together RIGHT to the end, while the incredibly strong screenplay from Reynolds, series regulars Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, Robot Chicken’s Zeb Wells and the film’s director Shawn Levy (who previously worked with Reynolds on Free Guy and The Adam Project, as well as Jackman on Real Steel) definitely gives them a really big Multiversal playground to let loose in, all while doing a really beautiful job of taking the baggage that the current condition of the MCU property’s left the franchise in and stuffing it all into what’s always been a much more stable if also far less RESPECTFUL cinematic sandbox. There are easter eggs galore, both overt and a whole lot more subtle

throughout, especially during an extended sojourn into the Void (the TVA’s pruning dumping ground) which not only introduces a few fun new faces (including at least one X-Men franchise missed opportunity AS WELL as the VERY welcome return of my very favourite Marvel mutant of them all – so nice to see you back, Laura! Sure hope you get to stick around for more) but also a bunch of fan favourites from across Fox’s Marvel pantheon, and as far as I’m concerned there ain’t a single bum note in the entire symphony here! Certainly this is BY FAR the funniest Deadpool movie so far (which is saying something), but that’s not really surprising since Shawn Levy has consistently proven to be one of the VERY BEST cinematic comedy directors out there (especially with his consistently high quality Night At the Museum series), so this is just another day at the office for him, and he definitely delivered something TRULY SPECIAL here. This is THE MOST I have laughed at the cinema so far this year, but thankfully like its predecessors it’s also got plenty of feels on offer too, meaning that it definitely fits in JUST FINE with the best that its new peers in the MCU have to offer. Topping this off with a selection of genuinely BRILLIANT inspired soundtrack needle-drops (particularly in the thoroughly irreverent and MASSIVELY disrespectful opening title sequence which sees Wade mercilessly desecrating one of Marvel’s most sacred cows) and a genuinely moving closing credits farewell homage to Fox’s Marvel legacy, the filmmakers have done their material so very proud as well as opened the door to so much fresh possibility in the Marvel Cinematic Universe going forward, and I for one hope this is a sign that things really are FINALLY back on the right track for the series. Now if they could just get that Blade reboot out of Development Hell (wink wink) …

1. ALIEN: ROMULUS – Ultimately landing JUST BEHIND a certain other major genre heavyweight entry on my list for the year so far, my (current) number TWO science-fiction film of the year is also easily one of the SCARIEST movies I’ve seen so far this year. It’s also a very interesting and IMPORTANT film in that it goes A LONG WAY to knocking yet another major cinematic franchise back on track after spending a long while spiralling further and further out of true alignment. Okay, I admit it, I LIKE Prometheus a whole lot as an actual FILM, but even I can admit that IN UNIVERSE its attempts to connect with Ridley Scott’s own original masterpiece and James Cameron’s (even better) follow-up were clunky at best and downright EMBARRASSING at worst (and in the end, the less said about Alien: Covenant the better, really). So I guess it’s actually A GOOD THING that Scott took a step back into more of a producing role to allow somebody else to take the reins of this sort-of soft reboot, and it turns out that Fede Alvarez, writer-director of the first Evil Dead remake and Don’t Breathe (as well as the CRIMINALLY underrated The Girl In the Spider’s Web), was the PERFECT CHOICE for this job. Fitting in somewhere between the events of Alien and Aliens, Romulus sees the dastardly Weyland Yutani Corporation find the blasted remains of the Nostromo floating in deep space, as well as traces of the original xenomorph itself, which they then transport to the film’s eponymous space station, in the orbit of the colony world of Jackson’s Star, in the hopes of exploiting the organism’s unique properties for their own gains. Something clearly goes HORRIBLY WRONG in the interim, because when a gang of opportunistic young colonists, looking for a chance to jump ship to a freer life in another system outside of Corporate control, sneak onto the station in the hopes of scavenging some cryogenic resources for the journey, they find it derelict and ravaged by some kind of horrific disaster. Then their poking around sets loose some of the fruits of the scientists’ biological labours, and before they know it they’re neck-deep in facehuggers and more than a few of their bigger brethren too …

Cailee Spaeny (Priscilla, Civil War, Bad Times At the El Royale) makes for a surprisingly robust action heroine in the classic Ripley mould as Rain, her diminutive size belying her character’s feisty determination and wily resourcefulness; Archie Renaux (Shadow & Bone) and Isabel Merced (Sicario: Day of the Soldado, Dora & the City of Gold, Turtles All the Way Down) are both extremely likeable as Tyler and Kay, respectively Rain’s ex-boyfriend and best friend, while Spike Fearn (Tell Me Everything) is kind of a prick as their cocky cousin Bjorn, and newcomer Aileen Wu is standoffish but precocious as talented young pilot Navarro. The real breakout star of the piece, however, has to be Rye Lane’s David Jonsson, who delivers a spectacularly complex, multifaceted turn as Rain’s adopted brother Andy, a former Weyland-Yutani android dug out of a scrapheap and reprogrammed to protect her by her late father. They’re all put through hell by the events that unfold within the faltering station, Alvarez turning the screws and fraying our nerves with his characteristic masterful skill as their situations progressively go from bad to worse to truly fucked, all while paying loving homage to the first two movies while also creating something new and fresh for the series if they do decide to move forward from here. Best of all, though, as he’s always done in the past he largely eschews digital effects, preferring to do as much as he possibly can with physical effects, which makes the impressively icky creature work and seriously NASTY gore all the more delightfully gnarly throughout, with the film’s ONLY bum note being a particularly problematic “resurrection” choice which has already had a great deal made of it in the press, but which I, ultimately, found was actually handled surprisingly well in the end, so that it really didn’t detract very much from my personal enjoyment of the film as a whole. Rounded off with an evocative and enjoyably old school score from Benjamin Wallfisch (who clearly had a great time channelling both Jerry Goldsmith and James Horner here), this is a rousing success for me, a phenomenal return to form for one of my very favourite sci-fi cinematic franchises and yet another standout offering from one of the very best fresh talents working in horror cinema today. If he does indeed choose to stick with the property, I think Alvarez could well keep this series fresh and exciting for a fair few years yet.

#2024 in movies #boy kills world #the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare #the fall guy #mars express #twisters #furiosa #kingdom of the planet of the apes #a quiet place day one #deadpool and wolverine #alien romulus

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thelustybraavosimaid · 2 years ago

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Darling Jonsas, context is very important when providing quotes. So, some things:

A portion of Jon VI, ADwD is the aftermath of Jon learning that "Arya" is off and married to Ramsay. Anger...

By now she'd be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. "I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you." Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton's throat as easily.

...bleeds to distress and frustration:

Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt. His thoughts kept returning to Arya. There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his.

[...]"Snow," muttered Lord Mormont's raven. "Snow, snow."

Suddenly he could not suffer it a moment longer.

...

Mully and Kegs stood inside the doors, leaning on their spears. "A cruel cold out there, m'lord," warned Mully through his tangled orange beard. "Will you be out long?"

"No. I just need a breath of air." Jon stepped out into the night.

And obviously occurs in others:

"You're not scared?"

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." (Jon X, ADwD)

Jon walked to the edge of the Wall and gazed down upon the killing ground where Mance Rayder's host had died. He wondered where Mance was now. Did he ever find you, little sister? Or were you just a ploy he used so I would set him free?

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl. (Jon XI, ADwD)

"I have made mistakes, I have admitted as much, but—"

"A grey girl on a dying horse. Daggers in the dark. A promised prince, born in smoke and salt. It seems to me that you make nothing but mistakes, my lady. Where is Stannis? What of Rattleshirt and his spearwives? Where is my sister?" (Jon XIII, ADwD)

When Jon thinks about the representation of his heart, which is equated to his sister, it's not about Sansa:

"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you."

"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?"

"Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly…" (Jon VI, ADwD)

George is not playing 5D chess here, like at all. What you see, especially in this case, is exactly what it is. His personal torment, his despair and pain over "Arya" over the latter half of his ADwD chapters is not even remotely about Sansa, nor has it ever been. Arya is not a "proxy" for family, Jon considers her his heart, and he her home.

This should not have to be told to anyone. No one should have to be told that the relationship Jon and Arya have cannot be interchangeable with other characters, but here we are.

Stop lessening their narrative and emotional importance to one another.

#you want to find some supporting evidence for your ship? use your own #stop stealing ours #jon thinking about arya is not jonsa nor is it about sansa #why the fuck would it be #the whole 'he's actually thinking about sansa' reeks of misogyny actually #and i fucking hate the notion #that is NOT what George is writing #nor is that how he writes at all #asoiaf #jon snow #anti jonsa #ramble

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stilesssolo · 3 months ago

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Heyy, i was wondering if we could get a sneak peek at the next chapter of Baby I’ll comeback to you? No pressure, just love the story!!!

Anon I'm not gonna lie, I haven't really touched it since I posted the last chapter, but this ask inspired me to go back and reread big chunks of the story and then I cranked out 2k in an hour before dinner :) so here's a nice long sneak peek for you!! Thanks for being patient and sticking with the story!!

Rhaella’s place is adorable, a charming bungalow tucked amongst the sea grass and a beautiful sprawling garden, up on the bluffs with a view of the sea. She’s waiting on the front porch when Jon gets out of the car, her smile wider than Jon’s ever seen it as Ella fights her way out of her carseat, slipping past his hands before he can even fully pull her buckle back.

“Gran!” she shrieks, and Rhaella scoops her up in her arms, twirling her around as Ella giggles. “I missed you!”

“Not as much as I missed you,” Rhaella insists, peppering her face with kisses. She turns to Dany and Jon as well, Ella secure in her arms. “You really wanted to deprive me of this, Dany?”

“Gods above, Mum, we didn’t book a hotel,” Dany says with a laugh. She gives her mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek around Ella, who is latched to her grandmother like a barnacle. “Thank you for letting us stay with you.”

“Aye, thank you, Rhaella,” Jon echoes. His hands are full with all their bags, but he nods at her gratefully, and her smile at him is warm, like he remembers they used to be. “We really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says, ushering them inside. “I’m glad to have you here.”

Rhaella shows them around her new place, then they walk down the steep path at the end of her street to the beach, Ella racing after the gulls and screaming with glee as the three adults watch on. Rhaella smiles, nudging Dany. “She’s just like you when you were younger,” she says. Ella races up to the water’s edge, then backs up, shrieking, as the waves crash on the shore, chasing her back. Her blonde curls whip in the chilly sea air, and Jon smiles, his heart squeezing with affection.

“I thought we could go to dinner at that restaurant in town you like,” Rhaella says to Dany. She nods, eyes on Ella still. Jon watches her observantly, noting the way her arms cross, the slight tension in her shoulders. He knows being back here brings up mixed feelings for her, and he’s determined to stand steadfastly by her side all weekend, protect her from the demons of her past best he can.

And if it distracts him from thinking of his own problems as well— well, that’s just a bonus.

“Just us four?” Dany asks, and her voice might sound neutral to the average person, but Jon can see how carefully she’s holding herself.

“Rhaegar wanted to come too, if that’s alright,” Rhaella says. “Elia has some friends that came in early for the shower as well, and he didn’t want to intrude on their girls’ night.” She pauses. “I thought it might be nice for you to see just him before— the circus tomorrow.”

Dany laughs, humorlessly. “Yeah, probably.”

“Gran!” Ella calls, turning back to the three of them. “There are so many shells!”

Rhaella picks her way across the sand towards Ella, before the two of them hunch over the shoreline together, examining the different shells that the surf has washed up. Jon looks down at Dany next to him, her arms still crossed defensively and her jaw just a bit too tight. “You alright?” he murmurs again, and she sighs, looking up at him. Her eyes are cloudy, the mix of emotions there displaying her inner turmoil.

“Yeah,” she says, and she goes willingly when he tugs her into his arms, resting against his chest. He presses a kiss to her crown, wishing he could will away all the bad memories and pain from her past, but knowing there’s not much he can do other than hold her. “Thanks for coming with me to this shitshow.”

He just squeezes her tighter. “Of course,” he says. “And if you want to escape, just let me know. I’ll keep the car running.”

She laughs, tucking her head under his chin again. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that, but you never know with Viserys and my father.”

They’re silent for a few minutes, just watching Ella and her grandmother examine different shells. “How are you doing?” she murmurs a moment later, before turning to look at him. “Have you— spoken to them at all?”

Jon sighs. “No. Neither of them have said anything to me.”

Dany’s quiet for a moment. “You haven’t reached out to them?” she asks, and Jon sighs.

“I’m not apologizing to them for this,” he insists. “I don’t need their permission to go to my daughter, and it’s fucking ridiculous they’re acting like I do.” Dany falls quiet again, her head still tucked against his chest, but he can tell she has something else to say. “What, Dany?” he asks, trying to keep the exasperation out of his tone.

“I don’t think you have to apologize for that either,” she agrees. “I just think— Jon, it kills me to think of you losing them again.”

He sighs. It kills him too, and it’s been slowly eating away at him, no matter how much he tries to ignore it, insist to himself it’ll blow over, and Robb will call, and everything will be fine. “If he wants to talk, I’ll talk,” Jon says. “And if he wants to apologize, I’ll listen. I don’t want to lose them either. But I’m not backing down on this. Ella comes first.”

Dany doesn’t say anything else, and he tries to push it from his mind, focus on watching Ella in all her joy, ignore the black pit of anger and fear and despair that’s been steadily growing in him ever since Robb stormed out of that trailer.

#baby i'll come back to you #im gonna get this story done by the end of the year if its the last thing i do #inspiration has just been hard to find this summer #im getting back in the groove i promise #asks #answered

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get-your-fuckin-star-bitch · 2 years ago

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S4: Unwinding Au

Idk what ends up happening with the Unknowing, but Michael and Jon both end up going into that weird comatose state.

I’ve already somewhat described Michael’s dream-thing, and we already know what Jon’s is, but i dunno if Oliver talks to both of them, only one of them, one at a time, both at the same time, or something else entirely…?

But Michael forgets his name and appearance when he comes out of it, acts weird and unsettling, and then Jon wakes up and is like “oh. He needs a statement.”

And so Michael starts recording a statement, while Jon waits, and the “statement of…” bit alone starts to pull him back together.

“Statement of [?], regarding []. Original statement given…. [?????]. Audio recording by…

*voice becoming less distorted* “…Michael… Mi- Michael- Michael, um…

*Almost completely back to normal* “….Sh- Sh-? …sh-Shelley. Recording… I’m recording.

*all the way back to normal.* “Michael Shelley… recording. *Softly* …thanks.”

God, Martin must be SO jealous. /j

But yeah, Michael The Archivist is… certainly something to behold, pun very much intended.

Best part is that Elias can’t behold him anymore. So he just has Jon stick with him all the time. Personal security camera. /hj

Michael just keeps trying to collect every single photograph of himself that he can find and keep them in his office or on him just as a reminder. Cause he’s scared that if he forgets what he looks like, things’ll just go downhill from there.

He has stickie notes on his desk with his name and facts about himself on them, he’s made a tape of clips of himself reading stuff in statements, and of the snippets of his voice that were in Dust to Dust.

However, fears and stuff are… difficult to deal with, when you literally embody them.

The tapes, and any Polaroid photos he has, are the only things that seem to hold up super well.

So he decides to just… record a statement. About who he is.

Fortunately, prior to the Unknowing ritual counter-operation, Sasha had the genuinely brilliant idea to start taking tons of Polaroids of each of them so that they could all make sure they could remember who everyone was, and identify when people didn’t look right. Just in case.

So he tries his best to be clear with his phrasing and everything, and be as specific as possible, even though it hurts and feels wrong and everything.

He fills two whole tapes with memories and information and everything. A-side AND B-side.

His name, why he was named that way, childhood, teenhood, Ryan, before the institute, joining the institute, being in the institute, everything he can remember.

He actually goes to try and start up a third tape before he finally blacks out.

He dreams of a flight of stairs that goes on forever, and wakes up in a cold sweat.

His brain feels like sludge, and he can hardly stand, but someone’s left a statement on his desk, apparently for when he wakes up. It’s “packaged” too neatly, tucked into a file folder and held together with a paper clip, so he knows that it’s from Jon even before he sees the little “J” on the note.

It’s strangely crisp, though. Jon usually has to spend a lot of time carefully smoothing the creases out of any crumpled documents he finds.

Something prickles at the back of his mind about this, but he ignores it, just wanting to take in some information and get ahold of himself again.

It’s only after he gets past the initial record information that he realizes it’s not from Jon at all.

It’s… a statement about… broken glass.

As usual, it’s not actually possible for him to stop recording as he reads, but as he does so, his hands are shaking.

He recognizes the handwriting.

Michael hadn’t even noticed the name was a pseudonym until the narrator mentioned his “taller, skinnier roommate”, and Michael knew who it was meant to be.

Jon would never put this thing on Michael’s desk, he knew he wouldn’t.

Didn’t he?

No, he absolutely knew. Jon wasn’t sadistic.

But Michael knew someone who was…

The moment Michael finished the statement, he took the quick route into Elias’s office and demanded to know what the hell he thought he was doing.

(Guess I’ll continue this later or something, just lost my momentum lol)

#the magnus archives #tma #michael shelley #michael tma #tma au #tma unwinding au #unwinding au #jonathan sims #jon tma #elias bouchard #Elias tma #rambles #thoughts

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pin-crusher2000 · 9 months ago

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Mortal Kombat: Earth-66 (1.5)

Here is the second half of character interactions (Mar’i & Jake)

1- Mar’i: wanna spar? I’ll let you wrestle me to the ground.

Chris: oh! Hehe sure.

Mar’I: *smirks* read you like an open book!

2-Mar’i: future bro in law, wanna fight?

Jon: sure, won’t hold back though!

Mar’i: Tamareans is stronger than kryptonians.

3- Mar’i: you are daddy’s favorite Robin

Damian: *tt* is that so?

Mar’i: talked about you for hours.

4- Mar’i: we are both noble heirs for warrior queens

Hunter: it means we are both strong.

Mar’i: but I’m more stronger *does the lower bottom eyelid & sticks tongue out anime taunt.*

5-Mar’i: you think your arrows are faster than my starbolts?

Connor: yup, fastest drawer on the planet!

Mar’i: that’s what Lian said.

6- Mar’i: I’m a warrior princess!

Arthur: & I’m a warrior prince.

Mar’i: let’s see who’s the better warrior!

7-Mar’i: is it true that you eat worms?

Hector: no! I’m just a regular kid with hawk armor on!

Mar’i: that’s what a person who eats worms would say!

8-Mar’i: A Tamarean is stronger than a kryptonian!

Osul-Ra: wrong, & I’m a Phaelosian not a kryptonian!

Mar’i: *shugs noise* same thing.

9-Mar’i: *gasps* are you a warrior princess too?!

Otho-Ra: I’m my papas StarChild.

Mar’i: I’m my daddy’s StarShine.

10-Mar’i: wow! You get super strength?!

Colin: yeah, & I get even stronger.

Mar’i: strong like a Tamarean?

11-Mar’i: are you spying on Chris & I?

Conner: just being a good big bro & watching out.

Mar’i: thanks for that, but we don’t need you.

12-Mar’i: your just like uncle dami, But a princess!

Mara: I prefer a demon instead.

Mar’i: yup, talk like him too.

13-Mar’i: you can shoot lasers out of your eyes!

Maya: *giggles* yup & turn invisible too!

Mar’i: wooah! Cool!

14-Mar’i: Irey is my best friend!

Maxine: no she’s mine!

Mar’i: Mine!

15-Mar’i: hmph! Stop talking about my mom like that perv!

Clifford: what? I just said she’s like E.T. But with double D’s?

Mar’i: I’m gonna kick your butt!

16-Mar’i: what am I thinking about?

Kathy: Ranch with pizza on the bottom.

Mar’i: *gasp* soooo cool!

17- Mar’i: what’s hotter: my starbolts or your magical flames?

Suren: my flames can burn to ash.

Mar’i: my bolts are hotter than the sun.

FireWing (Jake Grayson)

1-Jake: loser has to make a parfait for the winner!

Chris: & it’s gonna be you.

Jake: then I’m gonna make it butt flavored.

2- Jake: we are the strongest of our teams.

Jon: let’s see who’s stronger between the both of us.

Jake: loser has pretzels for the winner.

3-Jake: dad said you were his favorite Robin.

Damian: *tt* is that so?

Jake: he was right, you are a butt munch.

4-Jake: we are both warrior princes.

Hunter: but I’m far stronger.

Jake: let’s test that out.

5-Jake: your screams can hurt eardrums?

Connor: yup, even steel at full scream.

Jake: really? Mine too! *starts screaming autisticly*

6-Jake: we are both warrior princes.

Arthur: yup, I’m of water & you of fire.

Jake: fire is better than water.

7-Jake: is it true that you eat worms?

Hector: no! Where did you heard that from?!

Jake: my sister bird boy! *giggles*

8-Jake: *deepens voice* accept my challenge kakarot!

Osul-Ra: *highens voice* Right! Let’s do it!

9-Jake: a warrior princess?

Otho-Ra: I’m my papas StarChild.

Jake: Mar’i would love to have you as a sister.

10-Jake: woah! You can turn into a giant!

Colin: yup, maybe even bigger.

Jake: can I do pull-ups on your wrists?

11-Jake: can you teach me how to be cool?

Conner: bro, you are already cool with the flame outfit!

Jake: awww, cool.

12-Jake: you’re just like uncle Damian.

Mara: how so?

Jake: a butthead but pretty.

13-Jake: you can shoot lasers?

Maya: yup, & turn invisible too!

Jake: can I use it to pull goons pants down? Please?

14-Jake: since my mom’s species came from cats could you technically control me?

Maxine: huh, you came from cats?!

Jake: meow! Meow! *purrs*

15-Jake: keep my mom’s name outta your mouth!

Clifford: why? I just said she’s like E.T. But with double D’s.

Jake: I’m gonna punch you in the tenders!

16: Jake: what number am I thinking of?

Kathy: not a number but the color blue.

Jake: darn, thought I could trick you. *pouts*

17: Jake: what’s hotter? My starbolts or your magical flames.

Suren: I can burn a body to ash.

Jake: can you light your farts on fire though?

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a-mag-a-day · 2 years ago

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MAG 91 - baking apple pie

After being all brave and sassy with Jude Jon definitely has learned a lesson or two about meeting up with avatars, although this one seems a lot nicer. Offering him a cup of tea instead laughing at him and threatening him.

JON "I… Where did you get that scar?" [LONG SIGH AS THE SOUND OF RUSHING AIR RISES] MIKE "And I was trying so hard to be polite." - Well, that lesson wasn't enough though…

MIKE "The air… it doesn’t… leave your lungs like you expect it to." - I hate falling, so I never did anything like bungee or something like that… But sometimes when it's super stormy outside it feels like the storm blows the air you want to breath out of your mouth. Terrible feeling.

"Not unless that’s what happened to your hand, but I’m guessing that burn came from sticking it somewhere it wasn’t wanted. And you still didn’t learn." - Yeah, even Crew knows it..

"The part that always bothered me was how I didn’t remember it. Not really." - Ohhh, does the "not really" flood already slowly start here? I know in S4 there's sooo many of them, and we heard it in S1 and 2 also a couple of times.

"Did you know that Lichtenberg figures are fractals?" / "The thing that chased me, you see, it was an arcing branch of the Twisting Deceit, taken shape to follow me. But the shape it had taken more rightly belonged to the sky. To those same vast unknowable heights that blessed book wanted to take me." - Another one of those edges, a phenomenon of the sky bleeds into It Is Not What It Is.

Daisy is so brutal… Kicking Crew a few additional times just to be sure… And we see some of her apologist nature. Tricking herself into only hunting monsters.

JON "So… so what now? You kill us? …" DAISY "You think he’s going to save you?" JON "What? What, no –" [GUNSHOT] [JON CRIES OUT] - again, Daisy. Is. So. Brutal. She just shot a dude right in front of Jon. Because it's fun to see his fear…

DAISY "One packet cigarettes, Silk Cut. One lighter, gold, spiderweb design. Hm." - Oh hi there you sneaky little thing! Also Jon totally smoking again…

God, hearing Jon gurgling and whimpering is so hard to listen to.

DAISY "You been following me, Basira?" - Basira is Daisy's soft spot… How her voice wavers here.

DAISY "You don’t know what he is. You don’t know what it’s like to have your secrets pulled out like teeth, just because he asked?" - On my first listen I didn't understand what all this "stop asking question" and then they just answer them as all about. This is when it finally clicked.

JON "I thi- I thi- I think it was Elias." DAISY "Yeah. Well he’s on my list too." - Lol, that tone in Daisy's voice.

JON "What about Mike?" DAISY "Who? Oh. Grab a spade." - Can you imagine, fours days ago Jon got his palm completely burned and now this murder cop tells him to dig a hole to bury the person she just shot in front of him or she'll shoot him too if she's merciful or cut his throat if she's not.

Godd poor guy

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #Mag 91 #lycanlovingvampyre

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sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee · 2 years ago

Text

"Happy Birthday to you, doll!"

A very lovely, lovely birthday to my dear friend @itsmalachitenow, featuring her two favorite batman rogues Scarecrow and Mad Hatter! She's one of my favorite people in the world, so please join me in wishing her a wonderful day. As a note this is very personalized with her self insert Lyric Adagio.

TW: NSFW 🔞, dollplay, oral, penetration, hypnosis, plot with porn, x self insert

That morning when Lyric Adagio woke up, she noticed the large bed she shared with her two lovers was empty. Did they both get up without her? A pleasant smile played on her face. They probably wanted to let her sleep, given today was her special day. Despite what anyone else might think, her boys did treat her so well.

In the other room she could hear the whistle of the Mad Hatter's teapot and smell pumpkin pancakes on the stove. Oh, they were definitely setting up for her birthday. Jonathan Crane, also known as the Scarecrow, made the best pancakes. Perfectly fluffy and the pumpkin was deeply comforting. She stretched out her arms and yawned.

The cold of the hardwood floor under her feet gave her just enough jolt to look around. Next to the bed was a pill organizer and a bottle of water, which she quickly used to wash down medication for the morning.

Their home… an eclectic and almost haphazard mix of three different aesthetics. Alice in Wonderland motifs galore, along with video game and movie merchandise and somehow the occasional glimpses of the Southern Gothic. It worked for them. It made her smile every morning, a constant reminder of their presence even when they had to be apart.

Not today, however. This whole weekend was going to be all about her. A planned dinner out with her loved ones and friends and the rest of the time? Private time to two of the most infamous of the Rogues Gallery, all to herself.

As she entered the kitchen and dining area, she could see Jon finishing off pancakes in a pile and a thing of bacon about to be put on. Jervis was pouring tea in three separate cups at the table, a grin on his face as he spotted her.

The moment the kettle was set down, he was running to her and twirling her around. His voice rang out sing-song, "Aaaaaa very happy birthday to you!"

"To me?" Lyric giggled.

"To you!" He stopped just short so she could get her breath, "Oh Alice, I'm so pleased we get to celebrate yet another year of you… existing!"

"Hm?" Jon called out in monotone, yet a smile played on his face, "Is today some sort of special day?"

"Pooh-pooh, Marchie!" Jervis blew out his cheeks in protest, "You know perfect-ly well! None of us are exempt from the time spell."

"And now you're rhyming." He flips the last pancake onto the side plate.

Lyric was practically jumping on her toes, "Aw, but Jon, my heart is in a swell! You know that's his cutest tell. He can't be the Mad Hatter and rest just on his laurels!"

Jervis couldn't help the giggle that came from his throat, clapping his hands in delight, "Very good, Alice!"

Jon quickly turned, spatula in hand, "Don't you encourage him! …happy birthday, my dear." The mock frustration on his face quickly melted away to a warm smile. He held his arms out to her as she approached.

"Did you take your morning medication?" Jon asks as she leans in for a kiss on his cheek.

She grins, "Yeah, Doc, I did." There's an amused chuckle in response. The first time she had gotten discombobulated from forgetting night or morning medication, Jon took it upon himself to ask when he was home. It was one of several subtle ways he told her how much he loved her.

Another was the way he would make her plate to always include a tad extra food, even if she wasn't going to eat it. He knew what it was like to have food scarce or kept away from you. It was a feeling he'd never wish on someone else. And so, his loved ones would always have more than enough.

Jervis sat in the seat across the table from her, chin in his hands and his tongue sticking out just a tad, "There's already milk on the table. I know what you like!" And she'll watch as he puts far too much sugar and cream into his. Though… hers isn't much better.

"The reservations are clear for tomorrow night, by the way." Jon called above the sizzle of bacon, "And everyone cleared their schedules." It made him happy to say it. Just for you, dear. They all want to be with you on your day.

"Even-"

"Even the Cheshire Cat, yes!" Jervis interrupts.

Lyric mixes her tea and comments, "Oh man, I thought Edward was going to be out of town?"

"He was until he heard he got his dates mixed up. You know how that man is with dates." Jon rolls his eyes and jokes, "The illustrious Riddler- the genius Riddler- amazing at everything he touches but can't be bothered to keep track of the days when he hyper focuses on his work." The only time that man ever paid attention was when he was forced to- like in Arkham.

Lyric smiles. He canceled plans? The others really do all like her. She tries not to cry into her cup of tea. It took a minute for the rest of them to warm up, but… old friends and new friends and her parents. All together.

"I'm so happy." She sighed, "The only thing is that's gonna be so many spoons."

"Which is why today is about relaxing, pet!" Jervis cooed, "No flare-ups on our watch!"

Lyric felt her shoulders relax as Jon put a plate of food in front of her. He sat down between them, briefly bowed his head and then started to eat. She wondered briefly if this meant they weren't going to do anything today. Which was fine, she understood why, but… she was rather hoping they were going to do something, even if it was small.

Jon, as if sensing this, had a sly smile on his face, "I think we should open presents after."

"Presents?" Jervis and Lyric both chattered.

"Wait, why are you excited?" Lyric asked.

"Because, dear Alice…" Jervis grinned, "I know what your present is." The look on his face sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine.

A nervous laugh, "I am excited but also afraid!"

"All I could ever hope for, dearest." Jon flirts.

Certainly, it gave her reason to finish up breakfast, tea, and then brush her teeth. Get situated on the couch in their modest living room to wait for her presents. Midnight, the taxidermied crow, watched with glass eyes from a nearby bookshelf. There was that sparkle in her eyes that attracted them both at the various times they first met. That wonder she met the world with.

Jervis stood there with a larger set of boxes in his arms, meticulously wrapped with hand-tied bows. Meanwhile Crane dug into a nearby cabinet, moving various things out of his way to pull out a bundle- book shaped and wrapped in newspaper and twine. Jervis made a movement with his hand for Jonathan to go first.

“Age before beauty.” Jervis jokes.

Jon sniped, “Where in the world did you even hear that? One of your reality shows?”

“I do not WATCH-” If Jervis hadn’t been holding things, his hands would have gone to his hips.

Satisfied with the reaction he managed to get, Jon handed the bundle to Lyric, “You said how much you like hand-made gifts. Both of us decided to partly do that this year.”

Trying to stifle a laugh at their banter, Lyric took the present in her hands, delicately pulling away the twine in her lap. As the newspaper fell away, she could see a leather bound book, the binder sewn by hand. The binding was thick and sturdy, obviously recycled. As she flipped through, she realized these pages were of perfect quality for sketching.

Her eyes were wide, “You made me a new sketchbook?!” She was quick to get up and wrap her arms over Jon, the book tight in her hands.

“It was a new venture, certainly,” He kissed the top of her head, “I managed to purchase some inks as well that I think you’ll have fun experimenting with. Either for writing or sketching.” Out of her line of sight, he gave a thumbs up to Jervis, who began lining up his presents along the living room table. He grabbed up the newspaper to toss to the floor for now.

As Lyric turned back around, she looked over the boxes with curiosity, “Is this where I should be scared?”

“Positively frightened.” Jon learned to whisper in her ear, hand on her shoulder. The tickle of air on her ear made her shiver.

Biting her lip, Lyric sat down in front of them, and Jervis plopped down on the couch next to her. Jon managed to slink his way behind them, with his lanky arms draped over the back. She went to the smaller boxes first- ribbons for her hair, stockings, some very comfortable but still sensual lingerie… And a pair of women’s oxford shoes. Lace up, black and white with a small chunky heel.

She knows what’s in the largest box.

Jervis is positively brimming with anticipation next to her, “You’re going to relax today- We had just the thing! Doll you up… and put you on a string.” There’s a dark tone to his voice, not playful like he normally would be. It’s sultry, inviting. She can feel him edging closer to her.

The box opens and her hands immediately go to the soft fabric of a blue-green dress. She’s careful not to grab at it in a way that’ll wrinkle it. Jervis wordlessly assists to stand and take it out to show her.

“Jervis… It’s beautiful.” She sighs, smiling at all the details. There’s cotton lace patterns along the bottom and accent edges, poofy skirts and frilly long sleeves. When he turns it around, she sees the faux ties in the back hiding a zipper to ease her way into wearing it. A lovely combination of her tastes and sensible fashion for her body. For a moment her eyes close as she pictures herself wearing it. She can feel Jonathan weaving his fingers lightly through the hanging strands of her hair.

His voice is lower, more graveled, “Shall we begin treatment?” She recognizes it. It’s the voice he wears when he dons the Scarecrow mask. Unfortunately for her, it’s also a weakness in which he’s keenly aware of.

“How do you want to do this, dear?” Jervis licks his lips as he asks, “With assistance?”

Lyric thought about it for a brief moment. She knows why he’s asking. Whenever he used any of his skills and devices of the mind, he always managed to whisper in her ear that her muscles felt light, like air. It allowed movement and positioning that normally would leave her aching afterwards. Yet he would never just assume she wanted to be put even slightly under without asking first. It showed how their relationship had developed over time the longer they’d been together.

She nodded, “Just a little.” One of her eyes winked and she made a motion with her fingers indicating a small amount. Jon’s hands went flat over her shoulder in reassurance.

Jervis, even in his casual wear, kept a pocket watch on him at all times. Just in case. Gold, with an engraving of the white rabbit from the original book illustrations of Alice in Wonderland on the back. This particular watch was an anniversary gift from her. The moment it was opened and she saw the black and white of numbers, and could hear the ticking of the second hand- her mind already began to relax.

“Oh, Alice, dear Alice…” Jervis cooed, “We’re sure to find something to fit your palate. Relax and we’ll tell those muscles to mollify- Any pain you feel we will therefore nullify.” Immediately Lyric feels any tenseness in her muscles wash away like water on the beach.

The smile on her face was soft and happy, “That feels nice, thank you.” It was through dedicated practice that it was effective this quickly. At this point she practically hopped and skipped over extra steps with grace.

“What a pretty little doll we’ve found.” Jon’s voice has gotten close to her ear, helping tilt her chin with his hand.

Jervis compliments, “Yes… But we simply must dress her in something more fitting, don’t you agree? This simply won’t do!”

Lyric could feel the flush go to her cheeks and ears as they spoke. Trying to “behave” and not break the character. The Mad Hatter stood in front of her, holding out his hands for her to grasp so she could be pulled to her feet. Her feet were slightly shaky from being too relaxed, something Jon helped to manage by swiftly moving from behind the couch to her side.

“Thank you.” She said, getting her balance, “It’s… been so long since someone has found me-”

Jonathan smooths a palm over her cheek and laid a soft kiss on her lips, “Shhh… You’re alright now, dear. Nothing can hurt you now that you’re ours.”

“Yours?” Lyric asked.

“Oh, yes!” Jervis added, “Completely ours in every way! Let’s start with this shirt-” Giggling with excitement, Jervis moves to pull the young woman's shirt up over her head while Jonathan holds her by the waist. Her nipples perk with the cold air, which he moves to fix with his hands massaging over her breasts. His mouth opens to kiss her on the mouth, his tongue moving to taste her.

“Patience.” Scarecrow reminds them both, “We’ve barely just begun.”

The other man is clearing his throat, “Y-yes, quite!”

The trio of them grinning and smiling, they guide Lyric to the bedroom, laying her softly on the bed. Jonathan unceremoniously pulls off her pajama bottoms and presses himself between her knees. Staring down at her. Observing her reactions. He thinks how beautiful she is with her hair splayed around her head. The warmth in her eyes. Softly he grasps her hands to help her sit up as Jervis brings in the stack of present boxes for them to go through. She can’t help but lean in closer to a clothed Scarecrow for warmth. His arms wrap around her back and shoulders as their partner sets up the “game.”

“Hmmm you’re so cute like this.” Jonathan whispers, “So difficult to wrap our doll up when we could have you just… like this...”

Now it’s Jervis tutting them, “Patience! Here, love.” His movements are slow as he slips white lacy underwear up her legs. Lyric pulls herself up on his shoulders so they can be pulled up over her hips. The light brushing of Jervis’s thumb and she realizes the underwear has no crotch, thin straps on either side of her pussy leaving her showing. She whimpers but tries to keep still as they pull over a matching sheer bralette on her top. Jonathan went to tweak her nipples as he felt the fabric.

“This one is perfect.” He says to Jervis, “She looks like an angel.”

Jervis sighs dreamily, “Isn’t she, though?”

At that she couldn’t help but give a nervous laugh and look down at the bed. It wasn’t new things they were saying, but… every time they did, she felt so special. Jonathan grasped her chin in his fingers to look at him and to kiss him, Jervis kneeling onto the ground with stockings. Lyric couldn’t help but gasp at Jonathan's mouth as their third began laying kisses over her thighs, her knees, her calf- Soft cotton easing its way up one leg and then the other. When she could look down, she saw a looping blue ribbon accenting the top of them, just underneath the frills.

Jonathan helped to straighten the fabric over her thigh and ghosted his face along her jawline, “Pretty as a pinup.” His statement was followed by a dry laugh. There’s definitely a box somewhere with scintillating photos of her that he snuck in during stays at Arkham. He helped her lean on him to get to her feet, both men staring her over.

Jervis takes the opportunity to grasp her in his arms and kiss her rapidly over her neck and shoulders to the point of having her laugh. His fingers crept down just above her pussy, teasing but not quite touching her clit. Her soft moans echoed in the room as Jonathan unzipped the dress and loosened the ties so she could step in. Jervis almost pouted, no longer having the easy access as he had to back away. The colorful fabric skirt slipped over her waist, poofing out over her hips. As the sleeves fit over her arms, the look was almost complete- She looked like a fairy tale princess. One of the harder parts of this sort of play besides the sexual tension was they always made her wait to see the whole thing until it was done.

“My lady,” Jervis held her shoes in front of her as Jonathan finished tying the dress in the back. He couldn’t help but kiss her leg again as she stepped in and he tied the laces.

Jonathan kisses the side of her neck, pulling her hair away, “Dolls are to be cherished and loved, isn’t that what you said Jervis?”

A soft giggle as he stands, patting his knees, “Oh yes, I’ve said that many times! I’ve always wanted one to pamper… We’re almost done dressing up.” He motions with his hand towards the mirrored vanity in the room. It was antique, something the boys found for this exact sort of scenario.

It was here they sat her down on the small bench in front of it, facing away from the mirror, hands pulling her hair away from her face. Soft brushes that felt like silk glided over her cheeks to apply blush. Jonathan's wiry fingers dabbed on lipstick slowly to match the curve of her mouth. He moved behind her to tenderly brush her hair as Jervis applied a dab of nude eyeshadow to the corners of her eyes. She was getting the full treatment today and she knew it was their way of truly making the day all about her. A ribbon weaved through her hair behind her ears and was tied in a bow atop her head, completing the look.

As her eyes glimmered, Lyric was slightly turned around on the bench until she was looking directly in the mirror and able to see herself clearly. She could hardly contain her excitement at the view in front of her. With a slight wobble, she managed to stand up on her own two feet to see the entirety of what they had done. Her hands went to the skirts and swayed them back and forth.

“I think she likes it.” Jonathan said, his finger crooking into one of the ribbons in the back of the dress.

Jervis went to tilt her head up, “I think so too! But now what shall we do? We’ve brought our doll home… we’ve dressed her up-”

“I was thinking something of a reward. For us.” The Scarecrow began to circle her, “And surely we can pamper her in other ways.”

Lyric’s knees pressed together where they couldn’t see. Something about it- the way they talked about her like she wasn’t in the room, listening to everything. She knew what came next. Her body practically leaned into Jervis as his hand went to the small of her back and his lips found its spot in the crook of her neck.

“Well doll?” Jonathan’s brow queried, “Why don’t you show us how else we could pamper you?”

The young woman’s hands shook as she grasped the fabric of the skirts in her hands, trying to remain cool and collected even as Jervis dragged his tongue along her skin. With a shaking breath, she lifted the dress in its front just high enough to see her wet pussy on display. Just as she could see Jonathan lick his lips in a crass gesture at her, she suddenly felt Jervis move one of his hands to paw at her between her legs. Not quite pressing in, his thumb moving gingerly over her clit as his fingers explored between her slit. She grasped onto his arm for anchor as she moaned. The skirts fell over to hide his hand, but he continued.

Jonathan clicked his tongue, “I was still looking at that, doll. Don’t you want to please me as well? Or is your brain too clouded with pleasure to think of much else?”

Before she could answer, Jervis plied a finger inside of her and his teeth grazed into her shoulder. Her voice came out choking, “Yes- I- I-” Her hips moved in time with Jervis’s ministrations, the anticipation bringing her ever higher. The scarecrow assisted by first yanking the skirt up to put in her hand- Then he took her lips to his to overwhelm her. Every moan and whimper she gave him just made him harder through his pants.

As his body brushed against hers, she could feel it against her bare skin. For a moment she wondered how this was going to go before Jonathan suddenly backed off.

“I think Jervis should have you first.” There was a smile on his face she didn’t quite trust.

Yet, Jervis, panting hard against her skin, agreed, “Yes, yes, don’t you fret, you’ll have your turn soon enough yet. I want to taste our pet.” And with that he and Lyric went to the bed, him remaining clothed as he pushed her to fall on her back on the plush comforter.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lyric could see Jonathan setting himself to sit one leg over his other crossed on the vanity bench. Staring. A closed mouth smile betraying how much he was getting off on this. The Mad Hatter was quick to push Lyric’s skirts back up and press her legs apart with his hands. With a moan, he went to kiss her thighs before moving to her pussy and diving right in with tongue. She couldn’t help but weave her hands and fingers into his hair as he tasted her right to the core.

It didn’t last long as his face peeked up over the fabric of her clothes, “Oh Alice, you taste delightful- I just know you’re going to feel even better…” She could hear him unzipping his pants and a groan of relief at what she assumed was him taking out his cock.

He managed to wiggle himself above her, kissing her on the lips, “See how good you taste? So delectable-” His cock lined up and pressed inside her aching cunt. He was average at most in length, but there was a thickness to him that always stretched her out just a little at first.

Not to mention the fervor in which he’d thrust up into her hips, always making sure they meet at the hilt no matter how he rushes. Like she’s the only person he could ever want. His hand pressed down over hers, holding them above her head by the wrist as his other balanced his weight.

“You feel so good, Alice- so… Just like I always-” All the foreplay leading up to now had him plenty wound up.

She managed to twist her hips up to meet him so he’d go deeper. A shiver went up her back, and she whimpered, “Please don’t stop, Jervis- Don’t let go.”

Seeing the sweetness of her face as she begged almost made him cum then and there. Yet Jervis knew he had to rein himself in, thrusting just a little slower to make himself last longer. As Lyric looks over to Jonathan, she can see he’s no longer sitting on the bench. Likely somewhere else in the room, watching. Normally, Jervis would be the volunteer to be a creepy voyeur for his enjoyment. Feeling his eyes on her was enough, Lyric could feel herself building to that first orgasm.

“I’m almost- Jervis!” She moaned as Jervis kissed her again, moving faster to stimulate her with his cock. With a grunt, he came, pressing in deep for just a moment before he kept going- Panting and practically unable to speak as he went. She could feel that warmth of his cum inside of her slipping out.

“Mine, mine, mine-” He murmured, “You’re all mine-” Almost like a prayer on his lips to keep him going despite his own overstimulation.

With an arch in her back, Lyric came over his cock, her wrists pressing hard against his hand. Thankfully, he was just that little bit stronger, a wide grin on his face as he watched her face contort in ecstasy. Then he lifted himself off of her with a kiss to the cheek. He was going to clean up while Jonathan had his fun. Just before Lyric could wonder where he was, a fully nude Crane was pulling her up into his lap. She was so malleable like this- something he took advantage of as he positioned her over his cock.

His voice was rich as he growled, “And now you’re all mine. Just what am I to do with such a pretty little thing?” Before she could answer, he began to press her hips and pussy down over him- thankfully only half way at first. He was thinner, but longer. Just enough that pressing her all the way down in the initial stroke would be cruel.

He lifted her, despite her agonized moans, “T-too much- S… Sensitive-” Yet he continued, knowing she was fully aware of their safeword or colors if it all got to be too much.

“I think you should be able to take both your masters' cocks in one sitting-” Jonathan chastised, “Perhaps next time we’ll even do both. This body is ours. You belong to us, beautiful doll.”

He’d been stroking himself off in the dark as he’d watched, pre-cum already lining his shaft. Mixing with Lyrics slick and Jervis’s cum inside of her. There could be something witty to be said about it, if he wasn’t so focused on trying to hit all of her sweet spots. Slow, methodical and agonizing was the way to drag out her pleasure like this. That with some choice verbiage and the tender way he held her midsection as he thrust all the way into her, was nearing her at another edge.

Jervis sat in front of her on the bed, head in hands as he stared at her lovingly. Helping pull the dress out of the way as her face flushed and she seemed to lose any possibility of praise or banter. Just crying out as Jonathan played with her clit with each even stroke.

“Our perfect doll…” Jervis cooed, petting her cheek.

All of it was too much- Lyrics second and final orgasm hit her like a large wave in the ocean, trickling out to smaller waves as she panted out her release. Jonathan held her there for a moment before lifting her off and handing her to Jervis to cuddle into as she came down. Grabbing a nearby tissue from a box, he jerked himself off to completion, hand on her arm to keep his mind on track. He could have kept going inside of her, but he figured she had been pressed far enough for one session.

He put his cock away after some quick cleaning and settled in behind her on the bed, his arms going across her waist. Kissing the back of her shoulder.

“Was that good?” Jervis asked, “A pleasant present for our dearest? You are now… fully awake, my control is no longer a suppressant.” He gave a small clap for good measure, pulling out the watch for her to hear the ticking.

With the weight back in her body, Lyric painted, “So good. Better than good. That was… That was fucking amazing.” She was almost breathless but laughing all the same. The smile on her face made Jervis feel so warm.

Jonathan’s voice was quiet in comparison, “Happy Birthday, darling. Do you want to clean up or sit here for a minute?” They would have to apply some aftercare, but it could wait for her to process.

“I’m tired…” She said before moving her leg and wincing, “Actually, clean up. Is that okay?”

“More than okay!” Jervis sat up, “We’ll get you all cleaned up! And this dress will have to be cleaned too.” There was a knowing smile on his face as he said it.

The aftercare was a calming haze of motions from helping her undress and getting her in a bath to her having fresh water and pain medication on hand after (just in case). Her fuzziest and most comfortable pajamas ready for her to put on. A small collection of Vincent Price horror movies for them to watch as she sat in a blanket huddling between them. Soft reminders that they love her and care about her and consistently asking if she needs anything else.

“Don’t hesitate to ask.” Jon says as he kisses her softly on her head.

At first she takes out her new sketchbook and makes doodles of the two men next to her. Yet Jonathan could see the two of them with droopy eyes in weariness. They both end up convincing him to move to the middle and then napping on him in the middle of “Theater of Blood.” A soft sigh and smile. He wouldn’t have it any other way. His hands on both of them to keep them closer.

#dc scarecrow #dc mad hatter #smut #x self insert #jonathan crane #jervis tetch #foxwriting

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