#finally drawing jon again

[cybrrspidrr]

Laugh.

[acid-ixx]

You mention in the first story that the Batfam finally realizes where we are because jon showed Damian our picture while calling us his parent- so I was wondering about how Damian reacted to that? Like did he realize we’d left at that point or did he just get hit in the face with that info?

— masterlist ! ; related post !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated

a/n: y'all i have clogged nose and i hate it LMAO. anyways, i'm gonna write smth about this soon but damian's character for both the series again & again and this series is genuinely one of the more complicated to write because of how he's raised but it really goes like this—

"jon... what do you mean? that's my—"

he cuts himself off before he could continue running his mouth off. damian ignores the slight raise of jon's eyebrow, his thoughts running a mile every second.

his parent? no, never once in his life has damian considered you his parent, pushing you away whenever you try to bond with him. whatever gifts you gave him, no matter how small, or big, expensive, or inexpensive they are, he always makes a show of ripping them away right in front of you.

he told you himself. you are not his parent, never will be his parent, you'll never replace talia's standing, and there will never be a time where damian will see you as one. dick, jason, tim, literally anyone can consider you as theirs, but damian is a product of two genetically perfect individuals— you are imperfect, and it's not your business to coddle him just because you are merely married to his father in paper.

no matter how much you softly gaze at him with loving eyes, invite him with welcoming arms, praise his passion for drawing; all you'll do is weaken him and damian hates feeling weak, hates how you tempt him into melting into a puddle. that automatically makes you a burden in his book.

he hates you, and he should've been glad you disappeared off of the face of the manor.

yet the record stands still: why are you with jon? why do you hold him like he is the world in the picture? what does he mean by "sorry, damian, but me and my parents are gonna go to the carnival later!"? you, as in, bruce's spouse? why are you with them, of all people?

... why does jon get to have fun, with you? and he doesn't...?

and yet he couldn't reply to him, not when his friend babbles on for longer about his... parent. about how you, make him feel so complete. that you'll be the one helping him with his science fare project, how you two spent the night yesterday building a volcano, how you treat him with ice cream every time he achieves a good enough grade for a subject, how you, you, you always spoil jon, always comfort him, read him bedtime stories, matched bracelets, sung karaoke together, played board games with each other, picked him up from school, help him with assignments—

the more jon goes on, the more damian wants to rip his hair out. he doesn't know, doesn't know why he's suddenly pissed. is it because jon can never shut up, or because he couldn't shut up about you? about how perfect you are apparently? how you're the ideal parent he never once bat an eye on? the domestic life jon seems to brag about, it's something damian secretly wanted, and it's all ripped away from him.

it makes damian wonder, would you have done the same for him?

he knows it in himself, that if he hadn't pushed you away, he might've been in jon's place.

[sparrows4bats]

If Jon falls first, he would be so awkward at first. But the moment Damian reciprocates or shows any sign of feeling the same? All restraint is gone. Jon Kent is a simp and not afraid to let anyone know. He is gonna prove to Damian Wayne that not only is he an amazing boyfriend but he will be an even better husband.

He is giddy. Everything Damian does makes him blush and stutter. It's not just because Damian is cool and smart and handsome. He is all of those things, a degree of gorgeous and competent that leaves Jon in awe.

But he realises he likes Damian when they are arguing, and no matter how angry Jon gets, Damian never flinches at his red eyes. He never wonders for a moment if Jon will hurt him. Because Damian Trusts Him.

Jon thinks it may be a crush when Damian protects him after he is sent flying into a building during a mission, and Jon knows that even if he is Superman, Damian will always see him as Jonathan Kent.

Jon realises he is in love with Damian because of how kind he is, watching him with Lizzie and his pets. Even though Jon knows how hard it can be for him sometimes. It makes his chest ache with sweetness.

He decides to do something about it after he notices he's not the only one who has noticed how amazing Damian is. Kids at school, people at galas, and even other heroes look at his Robin like he's something they can have. It's unacceptable.

So he asks his Dad for help, and Clark explains some of how he convinced Lois Lane to marry him. (Clark Kent still considers it the best and hardest thing he has ever done. It doesn't stop him from laughing at his son for 10 solid minutes when he tells him. Bruce is going to be soooo pissed when Jon succeeds. It'll be hilarious)

Jon starts small. He invites Damian on missions and listens for any animal related emergencies Robin can come to. His Dad helps by distracting Batman while Jon sneaks into the Manor. (Clark trusts his son to call if he needs help, not that he would ever willingly put Damian in any real danger) Damian is confused by his change in behaviour but is happy to come along.

After long missions, Jon invites him to stay the night with him at his apartment or the farm. He delights in Damian wearing his clothes and being all sleepy and vulnerable. They share his bed, and Jon wakes up to Damian asleep on his chest. (Jon wants to wake up like this forever.)

So Jon starts to touch Damian more outside of half conscious cuddling. He hangs around his personal space like a cloud. Jon had thought Damian would hate it, but he accepted the closeness with ease. In fact, he melts. He doesn't hug back as tightly but leans on Jon in a way that makes Jon feel stronger than his powers ever have.

Next, he starts to do little things for him, like drop off coffee, and when Damian starts working to become a doctor, Jon makes sure he eats and sleeps between studying. Jon doesn't take in much information during Damians' study sessions, too focused on how Damians nose scrunches when he's concentrating, and how he blushes whenever Jon praises him.

Jon starts giving Damian little gifts; trinkets from wherever he travels, and pretty daggers he finds thanks to Diana. Damian receives each one with a smile and soon starts giving Jon gifts, too. Pieces of art he drew or food he finds in Gotham that he thinks Jon might enjoy. (Each drawing and painting is carefully framed in heat vision proof glass.)

Surprisingly, It's Damian who kisses him first. After Jon gives him a kitten that Clark saved from a tree. (Bruce said Damian couldn't adopt any more pets he said nothing about accepting them as gifts). The kiss is soft but full of passion, and Jon can't help but deepen it.

"I love you." Jon tells him when they pull back to breathe.

"Good, because if we do this, I couldn't bear it if you left me."

"Never, I'd fight the world to stay with you."

"And I'd defeat death to keep you at my side, Habibi." Jon kisses him again because he finally can. (Damian is even more handsome when he is under him, and Jon sends a silent thank you to whatever God is listening for letting him see it.)

(Clark was right, Bruce was pissed when he found Jon naked in Damians bed the next morning.)

Damian names the cat Clark after his future father in law. (Bruce will get his revenge, he swears, on BOTH Supers.)

[wroetolando]

𝙿𝚒𝚝 𝙻𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚊𝚕 | 𝙻𝙽𝟺

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris x fem!reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where lando proposes to his partner after securing a podium finish at Monaco, turning race day chaos into a perfect, unforgettable moment

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: oscar winning tears - raye

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

The air was fresh at dawn when the sun broke over Monaco, bathing the harbor in a golden glow lined with luxury yachts. In the midst of the frantic atmosphere of race day that filled the air, there was tranquility in your hotel room. The balcony door was wide open, where a light breeze made the curtains dance in the air with the surf miles away mixed with that of the lone engine being revved up somewhere down in the paddock below.

Lando lay in bed, nose-first into his belly, face buried half into the pillow. His curls were a jumbled mess, flattened against the side of his head, and the sheet was pulled down across his back, showing the muscles beneath. He slept that way, peacefully, so unlike high-strung, always-moving Lando that the world had learned to expect.

You rolled over onto your back to turn and look at him, supporting yourself on an elbow. "You wake up, race boy."

A moan came from the pillow. "Five more minutes," he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, reaching out to push his curls back from his forehead. "Your pre-race warm-up is très professional, I see.".

"Mm," he growled, not stirring still. And then, just when you were about to push him again, his arm came out, drawing you into his chest and around your waist. His body was warm, the sort of warmth that prevented you from uncurling yourself around him.

"Part of my ritual," he whispered, opening his eyes slightly at last. "Hanging on to my good luck charm before I go out there and risk my life for the sake of entertainment."

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide a smile. "So melodramatic."

He smiled but didn't complain, instead leaving a sleepy kiss on your shoulder. His arms around you eased for an instant before he groaned. "I don't wanna get up yet."

You wanted to be able to leave him so, too—coiled in the moment, in the heat of each other, away from cameras, excitement, tension for what was to come. But you knew he'd be in the middle of the paddock soon enough, with engineers, with strategists, with cameras, preparing to pilot one of the year's most important races.

"Come on, Monaco doesn't wait for anyone," you panted, fingers tracing idle patterns along his naked back. "Not even Lando Norris."

He cursed again but finally released you, rolling onto his back with a sigh. "Fine, but because you asked so nicely."

You sat up and stretched, both of us laughing. The sunlight pouring through the window lightened everything into warm, golden light, so the morning was itself soft and easy even in the underlying beat of race day.

Lando sat up, too, wincing back from his fingers as he rubbed at his eyes before turning to glance over at you and smile a small smile. "You coming on the grid with me today, yeah?"

"Yeah," you told him, as if it was ridiculous to even consider being anywhere else.

He grinned smugly and leaned in to plant a quick, careless kiss on your lips before pulling himself out of the bed at last.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

By the time you arrived at the paddock, though, everything was changed. Morning's easy-going sociality was over, handed over to race-day high-pace, high-releasing activity. The McLaren pit was alive—engineers running last checks, mechanics working their car double-check one more time, journalists interview prepping.

Lando squeezed your hand lightly and then let go, already race-mind by then.

As he melted out of the garage for his debrief, you waited with his performance coach, Jon, who grinned knowingly at you. "He's a little more tense than usual today."

You raised an eyebrow. "Actually? He didn't seem all that anxious before."

Jon grinned, crossing his arms. "That's because you calm him down. But I'm telling you, something's different. He was fidgety all morning."

You furrowed your brow a little, glancing over toward the garage where Lando was grim-talking with his engineers. Race nerves were inevitable, and particularly for Monaco. The track along the road was merciless with extremely tight corners and little tolerance for mistakes. In spite of this, Jon's words seemed to echo in your head.

Why was Lando getting so worked up?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Anticipation mounted while the cars queued on the grid. You were positioned just behind the barriers, your McLaren team scarf draped about your neck, amidst the chaos of a race day. Lando's car was in line, and while he settled in, he looked back over his shoulder a bit in an effort to catch a glimpse of you amidst the crowd. You could sense the power of his glance even behind the reflective visor.

You gave him a swift thumbs-up, mouthing, "You got this."

A fraction of a second later, his engineer was chatting to him on the radio, reminding him of the race.

And then, lights on.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Lights out.

The following hour and a half was absolute pandemonium. Monaco was famous for drama, and this race did not disappoint. A red flag in the early stages. A fight for position that had your heart in your throat. A heart-stopping pit stop that could have cost him everything.

And yet, through it all, Lando maintained P3.

When he crossed the line in podium position, the McLaren garage spontaneously erupted into a victory cheer. There was joy and relief that welled up over you as you joined in the yell with the team, your chest still thumping with the intensity of it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

You were already parc fermé waiting when Lando emerged from his car, still glowing with the adrenaline. The moment the helmet came off his head, he looked for you. Cameras trained on him, but he didn't care—he charged through the crowd barrier and headed straight for you.

You didn't even have time to react before he was wrapping you in a bear hug, lifting you off the ground in a crushing embrace. "Holy shit," he breathed, burying his face on your neck. "That was crazy."

"You did it," you giggled, holding just as tight. "P3 in Monaco!"

He was holding close enough to gaze into your eyes, his own shining. "I couldn't have done it without you."

He'd reached inside his glove even before you'd said a word to him.

Your heart was pounding.

Before all the cameras, the McLaren crew, the crowd, and the entire vast world to see, Lando Norris slowly fell onto one knee.

The bystanders gasped. You gulped hard, your hands clapped to your mouth.

"Lando—"

"I was going to do it no matter," he said to you, his tone more even than you'd expected. "Win, lose, DNF—it didn't matter. I just didn't feel like waiting anymore."

He popped the lid off of the tiny little black box, and within its depths glowed a ring of glittering gems. It basked in the sun as accurately as did the sea beyond you.

Your fingers trembled.

"You've been with me through all of this," he continued. "Every race, every disappointment, every stupid Twitch stream. You light up my world just being present. And I don't want to spend one day ever again with the knowledge that you won't always be there for me."

Your eyes full of tears, you looked at him, and you waited for him to continue.

"So," he exclaimed, a little breathlessly. "Will you marry me?"

The world was cacophonous, but in that moment, there were only the two of you.

You did not blink.

"Yes!" you roared, your head moving furiously.

The instant you spoke the word, Lando sprang to his feet, slipping the ring onto your finger before drawing you into a bruising, breath-stealing kiss.

The cameras clicked. The crew applauded. The champagne spattered.

And in the midst of it all, Lando embraced you, his lips smiling against yours.

"Best podium ever," he breathed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

masterlist

[witherby]

we NEED more mermaid and damian content 😔🙏

(i dont know if ur accepting requests but maybe we could get a glimpse of Jon? its fine if not!! just a silly thought!!🫶🫶)

ANYWAYS I LOVE UR WRITING (and im new to ur blogs 😿)

I haven't read any of the comics... Jon is the kind one and Kon/Con is the bad boy with the attitude, right? I sure hope so, but if he isn't, then it's an AU, take it with a grain of salt! Haha.

Here's your "glimpse" of Jon 😈

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader, part 6!

The Masterlist is here!

You're awoken from your sleep by a familiar disturbance in the water.

Swish, swish, swish. Swish, swish, swish.

You bump harshly into the sides of your castle spire as you practically claw your way out, long tail unfurling as you get free, and you propel yourself eagerly towards the top floor where the opening to your tank is located. You're a blur in the water, stirring up the aquatic fauna and creating ripples from how fast you're going. You barely pay it any mind, too overjoyed by the presence of a person you didn't think you'd get to see again.

Your sense of time is shaky, especially after breaking your own routines in the wake of your separation from Damian, but you'd know that summons from anywhere. You could feel its disturbance from a mile away.

Did he miss you as much as you missed him? You hope so. Oh, you can't wait to be reunited!

You break the surface with a happy trill, arms extended to embrace your favorite caretaker, and flop over the lip of the tank with him in a tangle of limbs. Your arms encircle his shoulders, webbed fingers skittering against the familiar texture of the wetsuit, and you nuzzle into a head of black hair with a coo.

He's here! He's here, he's back, he's finally with you again! You're so happy —

"Ah — whoa! It worked! I can't believe it!"

You stiffen, eyes snapping open as you process that voice.

That's not what Damian sounds like.

When you take in more details, you come to understand the mistake you made faster and faster. The shoulders you're hugging are too broad. The hair you're nuzzling is too long. The wetsuit you're touching is a different color. The caretaker you're holding is too tall.

You draw back, chittering, and stare at soft, blue eyes, instead of your favorite glittering green.

"Hi!" The boy greets cheerfully. "I'm Jon Kent, your new primary — wait, no, waitwaitwaitwait!!"

You push yourself away from him and turn to get back into the water, but a pair of arms around your waist halts your progress. You snap your teeth threateningly, and the land creature at least has the decency to look chagrined. He's lucky you're too hungry and tired to put up much of a fight at the moment.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," he insists. "Look, look — I brought you a bucket of food, and I grabbed you some new puzzles and toys, and I'm in a wetsuit! Bruce told me you know what that word means, because you used to swim with Damian."

You elbow Jon roughly in the stomach. He groans, but continues to hold you. There's not enough of your tail currently in the water to slip away, either. You hiss, annoyed.

"Please," the boy insists, "give me one chance! We don't have to be best friends, but you need care. You're underweight, you're overtired, and my dad says you need those patches on your tail looked at. My job is to help. I just want to help you."

Jon tugs you close, mindful to stay out of swiping range of your claws, and rests his chin on top of your head.

"One swim. I won't touch you anymore, either. Let me at least pop into your tank to clean up the discarded food and straighten up the place, okay? Just one swim together. Deal?"

You squirm and wriggle, snapping your teeth a few more times to try and slip out of his grasp. Unfortunately, Jon is stronger than he looks, and you really are overtired. The fight doesn't last much longer before you're slumped against him and panting slightly.

"Please," he murmurs again, using your name to get your attention. The fins on the sides of your head twitch, and you finally weigh your options.

A long amount of time has passed. When you see Damian walking people through the tunnels under your tank, he no longer looks at you. You are exhausted, and bored, and lonely. You miss him terribly.

You have caretakers. They are not Damian, but there are still people that come to see you and maintain your home. Jon wants to be one of those people.

You do not have to like Jon, but he has offered to play with you and look after you like Damian once did. You don't want a new playmate, but...

Maybe...maybe it will be okay. Your heart yearns for Damian, but you can nurse that particular wound yourself while letting others tend to the physical injuries. You can allow someone else to occupy your time, as long as you don't get too attached lest they, too, get dragged away from you.

Was that the problem? Was Damian taken away because you wanted him to be your life partner? Would you be able to maintain a bond with someone else as long as you remained unmated?

Jon gently calls your name again. His grip has gone slack around your waist.

"Can we be friends? Or at least cordial?" He asks you, very patiently. "Pretty please? With sprinkles on — you're a mer, you can't have sprinkles — uhhh, with fish flakes on top?"

Hmm. This new caretaker is a little bit stupid, but he's got the spirit.

Fine.

Your shoulders slump, and you hum and turn towards the bucket he set a few feet away. Jon perks up immediately.

"Really!? Thank you! Thank you so much, oh, you have no idea what a relief this is!"

He lets you go and you shimmy back into the water, leaving your head above the surface as he grabs the bucket and holds it out to you.

"Here you go. If you want more, I brought two. You can have as much as you want, I promise!"

Your eyes dart towards the doors, where you watched Bruce take your favorite person away, where there is no sign of his return, then they flicker back to Jon, and you take the bucket.

Everything will be fine. It won't be the same, but it will be fine.

--

Damian makes his way stealthily through the halls. The other staff members know he's not supposed to get near your tank, and if they caught him now, the jig would be up.

Luckily for him, the other staff are all idiots, so when he finally makes it to the door and swipes his father's pilfered key, the lock clicks apart and he waltzes inside your enclosure with a grin.

"Princ —" he starts to call, only for the rest of his sentence to get caught in his throat.

He watches Jon Kent, the new caretaker, adjust his wetsuit and put a rebreather on, then jump into the water where you're spinning around in cheerful circles to play with him. He watches Jon carefully spin with you, then get dragged further into the tank with your hand on his wrist. He watches a gentle smile paint your face before you swim too far down for him to see you anymore.

It took months of work for Damian to build that level of trust with you. Months. And this moronic, gap-toothed, clumsy little plebian had come in and done it in two measly weeks? Was he that skilled of a Mer caretaker?

Damian leans against the wall when his knees threaten to buckle, feeling sick.

No. Maybe he wasn't an expert handler. Maybe you just liked Jon more.

Damian was aware of his decidedly "prickly" personality, and for the most part it suited him just fine. You certainly didn't seem to mind, especially after warming up to him. Was there any warm up at all, with Jon? Or did his winning smile and people-pleasing attitude charm you instantly?

Would you eventually give him some of your scales, too?

It doesn't matter, he thinks, quickly stumbling back out of the room with a thundering pulse and burning eyes. He's seen the joy on your face. His misguided sense of importance, of thinking you needed Damian in order to be happy, of thinking he meant just as much to you as you did to him, was clearly wrong.

You'll be just fine.

[estrellami-1]

Home

Ao3 link

“You never really grew out of it, did you?” Eddie asks, sardonic laugh ringing out across the dystopian landscape.

Steve’s heart stutters in his chest. “What?” He whispers.

Eddie shrugs, teeth clenched in a sharp grin. “That whole show up there. Tearing a bat in half? Overkill. Not impressive at all. Just peacocking, trying to get us to admit that you’re still the king.”

“N-no, I-”

“N-no, I-” Eddie mocks, something sharp in his eye. “C’mon, King Steve, aren’t you gonna let me have it? What, are you scared a queer is gonna beat your ass?”

“I don’t care about that-”

“No? Then Byers is lying, is that what you’re saying? Y’know he hates you, too.” Eddie’s nails are sharp, elongating into talons, and Steve’s heart thumps twice before settling into a regular rhythm again.

“No he doesn’t.”

“Oh, there he is!” Eddie-not-Eddie crows, arms spread wide. “All hail the king!”

Steve stops walking, watches as Eddie-not-Eddie grows, watches as his face twists into a gruesome facsimile. “Y’know, you’re almost right about one thing,” Steve says lazily, reaching a hand behind himself.

“Oh? Not everything?” Vecna taunts. “What, pray tell, am I almost right about?”

“In all the ways that count, I am still King Steve.” In one smooth movement, he draws his bat out from behind himself and embeds it in Vecna’s side. “Now!” He yells, and El ripples into existence, throwing her arm out in front of her. Vecna is yanked on invisible strings backwards until he’s impaled on Eddie’s spear. Behind Eddie, Nancy shoots Vecna in the head as Eddie runs out of the danger zone, flicking his lighter for Robin. She steps up and throws a Molotov at Vecna’s feet, another one ready should she need it.

Bats swirl in the sky as Vecna dies. Everyone readies their weapons again, but the bats descend on Vecna, feasting on the helpless lord of the Upside Down.

“Wow,” Steve says, “ironic much?”

Robin lets out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. There’s movement in the corner of Steve’s eye, but by the time he turns to look, he’s already being tackled.

“Christ,” Eddie whispers, “I hated that, I hated that so much, you’re never allowed to be the bait again, sweetheart, you hear me?”

Steve just laughs, wraps his arms around Eddie in return. “The good news is I won’t need to anymore,” he tells Eddie. “That was it. Now we’ve just gotta get out of here.”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, but doesn’t move. “I didn’t mean a damn thing I said.”

“Eddie,” Steve tries, but Eddie just clings harder. “Baby. I know. I know you think I’ve changed. I know Jon doesn’t hate me. I know you thought me ripping the bat apart was really impressive.”

“Fuckin’ Ozzy,” Eddie murmurs. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a laugh, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “Now c’mon. Let’s get out of here.” He grins and lowers his voice so the girls can’t hear. “You can make it up to me. Show me just how impressive you really thought I was.”

Eddie freezes, then scrambles up. “Well then what are we waiting for?” He demands, pulling a laughing Steve up. “C’mon, let’s go!”

“Okay,” Steve giggles, finally catching his breath. He slings an arm over Eddie’s shoulders, then wraps his other arm around Robin’s. She’s holding hands with Nancy, and Steve grins at her. “Let’s go home.”

[justiceiscalling]

i’m gonna try to keep this one short but, genuinely, why is damian going to hell never mentioned? like jason’s death is mentioned 24/7 and damian’s death is basically never even referenced (to my knowledge). did his death get retconned?

and even then—why don’t fics mention it? damian went to hell! literal hell! that’s prime angst material right there. i don’t understand people sometimes. everyone ignores the important aspects of jason and damian’s deaths, they only take note that they died. like the fic ideas i have for this is limitless.

catholic jason todd dies and sees nothing. no heaven, no hell. no jesus, no devil. he comes back brain damaged, then fucked up in the head, and when he finally gets his feet underneath him, he has a crisis of faith. then damian wayne fucking dies, comes back a year later (double it and give it to the next ts). bonding ensues.

“You trashed it.” Tim notes, looking down at the shirt that’s covered with paint, grime, and the distinct scent of the sewer.

Duke looks over at the shirt and scrunches his nose, glancing between it and Damian. “Just throw it in his closet. Maybe he won’t notice.”

Tim gives Duke a look. “It reeks of the sewer. Dicks not that messy.”

Damian frowns at the shirt. His trip through Gothams sewers hadn’t been intentional, it was a detour he had to make when an assassin cornered him. Unfortunately, at the time he was wearing Dicks blue ‘Nightwing’ shirt (yes he has his own merch. Yes it is because he is full of himself).

A low whistle draws Damian’s attention away from the shirt. He looks up and meets Jason’s eyes. His hair has grown out since Damian last saw him two weeks ago. If he refused to go to the barber then he should at least let Alfred cut it, do the entire world a favor. “Oh, Dicks going to kill you.”

“I hope not,” Damian says absentmindedly, putting the shirt down. Lest he start smelling like the sewer again. It took four hours to get the scent out of his hair, an additional two to get it off his body. “I’m not dressed properly.”

It’s meant to be a joke. Him and Jon aren’t exactly ‘working on them’ but he has been a test dummy for a few. Damian came to realize Jon laughed at everything, no matter if it was funny or not. The trio in front of him laugh as if it’s funny—Damian is about to dedicate an entire thirty seconds to basking in glory at the victory of making three out of four of his brothers laugh—but it’s when Tim speaks that Damian realizes it was interpreted wrong.

"What, you too cool to die in a hoodie and sweats?" He gestures to Damians outfit, a Gotham Academy hoodie paired with its matching Gotham Academy sweats. Underneath the black hoodie, is a black long sleeve shirt that had the Gotham Academy symbol on the sleeve.

Duke straightens up to get his own joke out. "Obviously.” He says with complete seriousness. “He has to die wearing Prada. Keep up, Tim.” He looks over at Jason, “Get a load of this guy.”

Jason snorts in response. “Gotta die in style. Dying in uniform is so outdated.” That earns a loud laugh from Duke, the only person who has yet to tire of Jason’s ‘I died’ jokes.

“Imbeciles.” Damian rolls his eyes, his tanned cheeks were probably coated in pink dye to embarrassment. He would never imply he had to die in a certain outfit if it wasn’t half-true. “That is not what I meant.”

“Please do explain, O-Wise one.”

Damian clicks his tongue at Dukes nickname but does as asked. “When I died before,” He doesn’t miss the way Tim and Jason stiffen at the mention. Duke just kind of pauses. “It was hot. You cannot exactly ditch clothes in hell.”

He’s met with silence. Well, he didn’t expect to be met with laughs.

Jokes aren’t funny after you explain the joke. Damian busies himself with folding the shirt he had previously let go of, the one that smelled of the sewer. “You…” Tim pauses, tilts his head, then continues. “What?”

“You broke Tim.” Duke comments, though he doesn’t seem fully there either.

“I don’t understand.” Damian furrows his brows look from Duke to Tim. Finally, he decides to look over at Jason.

Jason doesn’t seem tense, the only sign he was was the hand he had clenched together in a fist, which he quickly got rid of. In reality, it’s his face that gives him away. Jason’s always been emotional, you could read his emotions far too easy off his face if you were trained to do so. It’s a good thing he wears a helmet. “Hell. You went to hell.”

“Yes.” Damian says, because, was it ever a secret? Did he forget to mention that? He didn’t exactly have to write a mission report on his death. “I assume you did not.” His voice is stiff. Hell isn’t his favorite topic.

“No. I didn’t.” Jason confirms.

“How was Heaven?” His tone is slightly bitter, he can’t help it. Even though he knows Jason was good pre-death. Didnt lay a finger on a soul, and when he did, they were deserving of it and walked away breathing just fine.

“Wouldn’t know.” Jason shrugs. “Wasn’t important enough to get either.” He explains.

and yk bonding brother stuff. the potential is just sitting there untouched. like if someone doesn’t use it ill tweak out. feel free to rec fics, im clearly in need. only crossover fics id enjoy are marvel/mcu and criminal minds.

use this for an idea if you want, give credit obv.

edit: i've been informed that jason, in some iterations, did go to heaven but just doesn't remember it. so...even better ngl.

crisis of faith, thinking there's no heaven and hell, then boom bro finds out he actually did go to heaven. also the little writing bit i did was made in like twenty minutes at like 3 am, so sorry for it being shit. if i do ever get a great incredible idea for a fic on that, ill let yall know.

[legendary-lunatic]

I love the Frankenstein core of Michael and Gertrude

We all know Michael Shelley is a reference to Mary Shelley, but I think the thematic parallels are also great.

Gertrude Robinson is the Victor Frankenstein to Michael’s monster, and proves herself to be the evil in his story with her inhumanely cruel treatment of him. She took something beautiful and innocent and twisted it into something grotesque and unnatural, and now Michael is a monster haunted by his resentment for her; so much so that his emotions of injustice and pain even get in the way of what/ who he actually is or has the potential to be.

And when you think of Michael by comparison to other avatars and their capacity for morality as well as how they also evolved into monsters, or even compared to Helen, there is a discordance in himself that constantly draws questions to his identity/humanity and the choices he makes. Michael resents himself and his creation to a degree far more severe than Helen, and I think this is not just because Michael Shelley was the antithesis of the Spiral, but because of how he was made and what it caused Michael to Feel. Much like Frankenstein’s monster it is the betrayal and the isolated abandonment that makes Michael’s Emotions so overwhelming it makes existence difficult. Helen didn’t have a problem with Jon because Helen Richardson didn’t. If Michael Shelley were truly gone what sense is there in having a vendetta against the archivist? Why be so frustrated by Michael Shelley’s weakness and insist his existence meant nothing and isn’t present?

Because the Distortion is a liar. Helen has no problems affirming her identity, and yet Michael insists it doesn’t have one. Just like the Monster hates himself and hates humanity. Michael’s hatred for the Archivist mirrors that of the Monster’s quest for vengeance against Frankenstein, and ultimately Michael died because Michael Shelley himself progressively warped into anger during its conjoined existence and it made him a liability.

I also think it could be said that the way Michael is uncanny in his appearance as the distortion, and how he’s essentially a human and a thing smashed together, is a parallel to the Monster- which was an amalgamation of beautiful parts that became disturbing as a whole.

Gertrude, much like Victor, fancied herself a genius with the right to mess with life for the supposed progression of humanity, and do so in a way that I believe stroked their ego and superiority by inflating their importance in the world by imposing the weight of their actions onto their victims- only to be proven wrong for their hubris.

Elias telling her the rituals meant nothing at the end is the climax for her story arc because it puts all of her actions into perspective for the reader, similarly to how the narrative shift to focus on the Monster’s capacity for understanding undermines Victor’s. Their actions resulted in needless suffering and amounted to nothing, and as their creations terrorize they make justifications for what they did as if their good intentions absolve their sins or covering their own ass is a reason to let someone else take the downfall. Then as they die finally fully aware of what they’ve done guilt is primarily tied to regret in being horrifically wrong rather than remorse for the suffering they caused. They lament that their creatures exist but they do not truly empathize with their pain because they are narcissists.

And the narrative of Viktor being an abusive parental figure could also be compared to Gertrude beyond just Michael in how she treats Gerry. Gerry and his relationship with Gertrude, while never soft, could have been perceived as his one attachment and opportunity for something akin to affection- and yet despite understanding the pain of being bound, despite Eric asking her to look after his son, she skinned him to the book and left him. And you could argue that this is probably done to prevent him from turning into an Avatar, but then again she is choosing to play god with someone else’s life.

Who is she to choose and deny him the right to live after leading him right into the hands of the fears, as if for some moral reason when she herself perpetuates the pain of others? And to do so in a way that inherently violates him in a way so specific to his abuse from his own mother, and cram him in the very book that haunts him is beyond sadistic. She proved to be the same as Mary Keay.

The real kicker is that Gertrude leaves him, just like Frankenstein refuses to confront the monster he made and abandons his newborn creation to suffer existence on its own once he realizes what he’s made. And Gerry points this out himself in his statement when he says “I think… I think I finally understand why she brought me back. I just don’t understand why she left me behind.”

And that’s because for all she’s made out to be a badass, she is a coward, as all abusers are. And it sucks because just like with the monster, with that abandonment there is probably not one single person who genuinely cared for Gerry save for Jon, who finally let him die.

[magnuspanoptes]

you can draw a direct line between the bodyhopping and the way jonah/elias violates jon's bodily autonomy. i think 193, specifically, is making that connection during the bit where jonah and jon narrate the statement together with jon playing og elias's role, but that scene isn't really about original elias. because he's a non-person. making a statement in the magnus archives is the equivalent of sharing your story and og elias is denied one that doesn't come with the overshadowing presence of jonah. beholding has decided the most consumable memory of his entire life is the one where he's being traumatised by the man who will one day take possession of his body. a stern look isn't precisely about him, it's about jonah, jonah is the agent of his victimisation and therefore has control of his narrative. the parallel being drawn with jon has less to do with personal character and more with the manner in which they're exploited by jonah. bodyhopping involves objectifying the victim and rendering them a vessel for jonah's personal will. jon's transformation into the conduit for the fears involves repeatedly invading and assaulting his body and mind—he is rendered a vessel (the archive) for jonah's personal will. this comes through in the 160 statement, which is framed as jonah possessing jon and speaking through him, in that moment jon serves the same function as any of jonah's vessels. what complicates jon's narrative however is that there is a small element of choice here (and you can't tell me you're not curious. <- and he was. he needed to read it all, he doesn't hesitate even once after the statement begins) or as much choice one can have while being governed by systems of control (it's not an entirely 'free' choice, it's influenced by an addiction)—all of which is, again, synonymous with the web appropriating jon's body and will for its own plans. interesting that they discarded elias for the web in the final season because they also originally conceived him as the web writ small. possessing people's bodies means controlling their narratives, he does it to every one of his bodyhopping victims and then jon: there are three statements in the podcast that are About Jon out of which the one that he gets to narrate in full is about the web marking and consuming his life (81) but the other two are narrativised by jonah/elias (120 and 160), because he occupies the same narrative space of an agent of control in jon's life, he also marked and consumed him in his own way. mr spider isn't just a bogeyman representation of the web, jon's personal mr spider was also elias.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

masked x unmasked *part 1*

...

(why yes, shall i get more an' more ambitious in well, uh limitation of my current skillset, but still. more kissing! drawing them kissing gives me life *esp now, when i've got hella sick again lol* if i’ll draw them smooching 100 times, i will prob reach immortality. ooor i will be able to have this engraved on my headstone. one or the other!

but welp, as the title suggests, this collage focused on a scenario, where crane isn’t the scarecrow just yet. i believe, i mentioned that AU-ish idea in another drawing before. but this one, specifically depicting the comicverse scarebat. with this being said, this still implies that jonathan caused bo to crash the car. an’ that he most likely did smth to his predecessor *he didn’t murder him tho*, when it comes to his position as professor, an’ he still has fascination with fear, but it’s way more tame, than what kind of stuff he typically does in canon. it’s a slow-burnish corruption for him. but yeah, he will eventually become the scarecrow, anyways. but for now, he’s jonathan crane. an unlikely ally of the gotham’s new, mysterious vigilante. each art addresses different stages / moments of their relationships. starting from batman’s ambiguous, slightly intimidating flirting an’ ending up with jon getting bold enough to return his affection an’ even be the one, who initiates it. i suppose, it took him a while to realize, that this isn't some cruel joke at his expense or anything.

an' since this is comicverse, i kinda wanted this arts set to look a bit comic book-y too. as if looking at an old comic book page or smth along those lines. the final result, prob doesn't give off that vibe, but i still like how it turned out. as essentially, this art is one of those works that have around 4 different versions of it. an’ i just posting the ones, which look the most 'interesting'. but since filter did obscuring some lil details, here is a recollection of jonathan blushing throughout the whole thing.

i wasn’t able to keep this feature in the posted version, since it ended up looking kinda odd. but in case, someone might have wanted to see this, here it is.

aside from that, i think that in this set, the arts themselves are pretty straightforward, an’ more focused on the action aspect vs specific set up, aside from AU-ish frame. but i do imagine, that in the top right artwork *the one, where bruce is maskless*, while jon’s glasses make it hard to tell where he’s looking or not, his eyes are actually closed, since it’s the only condition in which bruce will openly reveal his identity to him. i also imagine, that since jonathan’s eyesight is pretty poor, sometimes, he might just take off his glasses an’ see bruce as a blurry shadow, but at least, still have some things to go from. like the fact, that bruce’s eye color is blue an’ he’s a brunette. it's their lil trust game, an' despite being curious, crane is too scared to screw this up just bc he wants to see his lover's face. not to mention, that typically jonathan not super obsessed an’ sometimes literally doesn’t care too much about batman’s everyday persona, since it doesn’t change much for him. whoever batman is, he’s the exact same man for him, inside the cowl or without it.

an’ oh yeah, it's indeed part 1. since i have sketched the set up, where bruce aren’t batman *bc his parents had never died in that universe* but jon is still the scarecrow, the notorious criminal. it doesn’t seem to deter wayne’s heir, who flirts with him for some reason tho.

p.s the most top left art used to be this .)

[writing-for-life]

The Weight of Goodbye

Dream’s SoM-meetings with Hob Gadling, Lyta & Daniel Hall and his subjects

Sorry not sorry for using this one again, because I’m Jon J Muth’s no. 1 fan, plus it helps me to get over Kelley Jones’ art which I find… challenging 🤣

I’ve been thinking about The Sandman #22 for our reread, and while there are many gut-wrenching issues, this is one of the most quietly devastating ones. It’s a bit like Dream writing his will while pretending he’s just going on a business trip (and of course we get something similar again later on in The Kindly Ones 🥺)

The Speech to His Subjects

Dream addresses the denizens of The Dreaming before departing for Hell. He frames it a bit as instructions for his absence (and sounds super awkward when admitting he made mistakes—it’s honestly like car crash TV), but the emotional undertones suggest something far more permanent:

He tells them about how to maintain the realm if certain situations arise (like him not coming back, either because he dies or because he gets captured) and presents it like contingency planning (for lack of better term). But the truth of the matter is that he’s putting his affairs in order. The formality of it, the careful way he addresses potential concerns: This isn’t just someone covering all bases, this is a ruler preparing his kingdom for the real possibility that he won’t return. And it’s the first time we get told, in no uncertain terms, that if he gets destroyed (his choice of words, not mine), another aspect of Dream will take over.

[Also: Is it just me who thinks that Kelley Jones draws him at his most beautiful when he’s vulnerable? Because some of his other artistic choices are… well, definitely choices 🙈🤣]

What truly gets me is the narrative use of Matthew. He’s concerned, but he doesn’t grasp the hint of finality in Dream’s tone. And at this stage, the reader may not either (we need to remember that we didn’t have the type of hindsight we have now back when the comics first came out; we didn’t know how the whole run would end). So Matthew is, once again, a stand-in for us, the reader (that always makes me think of The Wake, and even after decades, I’m still not over Matthew's speech and his grief). It doesn't help that we’re starting to see their growing bond, and the cracks in Dream’s armour he hid only a minute ago when everyone else was still there:

“I wanted to stick around. Do you mind?” “No.” 😩

The Meeting with Lyta and Daniel

Dream’s visit to Lyta Hall and baby Daniel often gets brushed to the side a bit, and without the knowledge of what’s going to happen, I get it.

But of course we do know what has already happened in The Doll’s House. Even there, it was painfully obvious that Dream, at least on some level, had plans for Daniel. So yeah, this is not a social call; he’s checking in on his replacement (for lack of better term). They have a bond because Daniel was conceived (show)/gestated (comics) in the Dreaming. It’s not Morpheus who gives Daniel his name—it’s most likely Daniel who told him his name.

Lyta’s discomfort throughout the scene isn’t just about supernatural entities dropping by unannounced, or about her deep-seated hatred of Dream because she considers him responsible for Hector’s death. She knows, on an intuitive level, that he is marking Daniel in some way because he already told her back in The Doll’s House that he’ll one day come for the child. At the same time, he’s acknowledging here that this might be the last time he sees the child for a very long time, and that he means Lyta no harm (“today” 🙄). And maybe that’s the only explanation for this:

Because I don’t know about you: If a strange guy whom I deem responsible for my husband’s death tells me the “true” name of my yet unnamed child, I'd certainly not consider that name and smile about it happily…

Hob Gadling and the Toast

Dream appears to Hob in a dream, and that’s a deeply significant choice. He could have met him in the waking world just like Lyta, but instead, he chooses to visit Hob in his own domain, where he has absolute power. But he doesn’t really use that power here, other than for getting in contact in the first place. He rather reveals something that could almost be considered vulnerability:

That’s the same Dream who stormed off in a huff in 1889 because Hob dared to suggest they were friends. The same Dream who tentatively acknowledged that friendship in 1989. The same Dream who now decides to say goodbye to the one person he actually considers a friend. For someone whose entire existence is built on pride and hierarchy, this shows character growth. But it also shows how desperately alone he really is, and that he doesn't want to be a burden to anyone (and that's compounded to the umpteenth degree when they meet the next time 😔).

But there’s subtext here that’s even more heartbreaking: Dream is settling his accounts. He’s making sure that if he doesn’t return from Hell, Hob won’t spend the next century wondering where Dream is, or if their friendship was real. By choosing to appear in Hob’s dreams, he’s giving him something lasting: a memory. And many of us know that this will be one of the cornerstones of Sunday Mourning.

The tragedy is that Hob doesn’t even truly realise this is a goodbye, and he hopes he’ll be back “eventually”. He's happy to have seen his friend, even if it was "just a silly dream"...

Patterns...

When you read these three sequences together, you can't help but see that Dream is systematically saying goodbye to the, at least at this point, three most important cornerstones of his existence: his successor (Daniel), his one true friendship (Hob), and his realm.

This isn’t the behaviour of someone who expects to return unchanged from his mission. This is someone who understands that going to Hell to demand the release of an ex-lover he condemned 10,000 years ago is likely to have consequences he may not survive.

Which brings us to the most important question of this issue:

Does Dream already know he will die?

I don’t think he knows, at this point, specifically how or when. But I think he does understand that his existence is reaching some kind of conclusion. The family intervention, the guilt over what he has done to Nada which makes him return to Hell: They’re really only the culmination of ten billion years of accumulated mistakes and regrets, and it’s only going to get worse from here.

The paradox is that Dream is finally ready to change, but change is antithetical to how he perceives himself. So perhaps, on some level, he understands that real change might require becoming someone else entirely. And that is something I think he does know at this point.

What makes issue #22 so powerful is how it recontextualises everything that comes after. When he eventually faces his final choice in The Kindly Ones, we can look back and see that he was already preparing himself here (and if you know me, you will also know that I staunchly insist he already made an, albeit subconscious, choice in #8). Maybe it’s a masterclass in dramatic irony: Dream thinks he’s being practical with making his contingency plans. But we can see him subconsciously preparing for an ending he hasn’t yet acknowledged to himself. But he also has...

Kelley Jones’ Art

I just briefly want to brush (no pun intended) on how Kelley Jones’s art reinforces these themes. His Dream is somehow always in shadow, even if it’s just his face. There’s a weight to him in every panel, a sense of someone carrying an enormous burden. I am generally not a fan of Jones' art (sorry), and I find his constantly changing Dream difficult to get used to (but I guess that's the point, and I totally get it on a conceptual level). But one thing stands out to me: The way he draws Dream against various backgrounds (Lyta’s apartment, the dreamscape with Hob, the throne room) consistently makes him seem isolated, separate, already partially absent. Even when he’s surrounded by other people/beings. But maybe I'm just reading too much into it…

Anyway, to put it all in a nutshell: The real tragedy, but also the deeper meaning of The Sandman, is that Dream tries to make amends for a lifetime of mistakes, only to discover that some changes require transformation so complete that the self doesn’t survive the process. But in metaphorical terms, the death of the ego is also a beautiful and necessary thing…

[mothhball]

If There's No End

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x Reader

Warnings | DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DE*TH – Reader d*es! ANGST, HURT, NO COMFORT, CANN*BALISM, do NOT read if any of this feels too uncomfortable!! Jon is very, very delusional in this, drugging, lobotomy, established relationship, again - CANN*BALISM. (tumblr wants me to censor this :'] )

Summary | Jonathan reminisces about your shared life and the day you found out his secret.

Words | 2.7k

Notes | Don’t yell at me for this, you’ve been warned! Not proofread, please don’t beat me up.

@kiss-me-cill-me welp, this is the cannibalism fic lmao bon appetit

Jonathan never thought he’d know guilt. But now that he’s hunched over on his knees, digging through the mud with trembling hands, he suspects that this might be it. His vision is still blurry. Has been for the past few hours. The tears have turned his world into a faded, abstract mess, like a child’s chalk drawings that are in the middle of being washed away by the rain. If it had been anyone else, he would have settled for the large dump of hazardous waste behind ACE Chemicals. But not in this case. Never in this case.

Jonathan never thought he’d grow to respect another person, but you crashed into his life with an earth-shattering intensity that nearly made his knees give out as soon as you turned to greet him. Hi. Two letters, one syllable. And it affected him in such a profound way that his ears still burn at the memory. Even during that first fleeting conversation, he felt as if the edges of his person began to become cloudy. Desperate to merge with yours until there was no end and no beginning to the two of you as separate people. Until flesh and bone and viscera were a shared commodity between him and you. A fever dream with the appropriate symptoms. Some nights he woke from a beautiful dream, a fantasy in which the two of you were irrevocably merged into one being. And on those nights, hot tears of disappointment and anger burned so harshly on his cheeks that he expected his sheets to sizzle where the drops fell.

It was love. It had to be. And when the universe finally relented to the prayers and wishes he whispered until his throat became hoarse, his life exploded with color. Fleeting glances and coy small talk managed to bloom into something more, something deeper and more intimate than Jonathan’s analytical vocabulary could ever fully explain. You loved him in a way that was entirely foreign to him. Unconditional and patient. You just… got him. Without even trying to. Your gaze traveled past skin and ribs down to his very heart and soul, and you didn’t turn away. But you didn’t know everything back then. How could you? He was so secretive about everything involving his studies. Sometimes, he couldn’t resist the temptation of monologuing about fear and its shackles on humanity. But that was all he was willing to share with you. He granted you a microscopic detail of the true extend of his passion. A laughably small excerpt of his obsession.

Jonathan never thought he’d know love. But you proved him wrong with every smile, every whisper of praise, every tender touch upon his skin.

He knows how cliché it is to claim that settling down with someone never occurred to him before he met you, but it's the truth. In a life that was filled with hurt and contempt, you were the first to take a chance on him. Undeterred by his sometimes standoffish nature and cold attitude, you pressed onwards until he cracked, revealing the mush that you've managed to melt him into.

A future with you was worth everything he had endured up to that point. The plan was to graduate, find jobs and get hitched immediately. He wanted to put his last name on you, give you a part of himself that you would take wherever you went.

The first two steps were already completed with him getting a PhD and a professorship, that he quickly lost again, somewhere in the middle. Aside from a few mishaps and arguments about his attitude towards his patients at Arkham, all seemed right in paradise.

Often, the two of you would lie awake at night, talking about your future while you played with his fingers. "I'd like to get married in Spring," you said. And he just nodded, already imagining your bright smile when he'd put the ring on your finger. On those nights, the urge to become one often overtook him, and he rolled on top of you to devour you in a different way. In hindsight, he should've told you. Given you a chance to see the true extend of his rotten soul. You already knew so much about him, yet you still wanted a life with him. You often said how much you craved the mundane with him. Lazy Sunday mornings, standing in line to get groceries, gossiping about your neighbors in the quiet part in the outskirts Gotham City that you wanted to move to. He should've told you about the toxin he keeps stashed away in his office, no more than 15 feet behind the pillow you rested your pretty head on.

He didn't dare to think about what could've been. No, he made the right decision. Surely.

He still remembers your wide eyes. The way the color vanished from your complexion as you turned towards him with his mask in your hands. He remembers how wrong the burlap looked, crushed between your beautiful fingers. You asked him to explain, even though you were already tearing up just by looking at him. Jonathan was always convinced that he could read you like a book, but in that moment, he doubted himself. And he panicked. From one second to the next, he lunged at you, putting you into a headlock that constricted the blood flow to your brain, and you wheezed and wailed for him to stop, but he couldn’t. If he let go, you’d let yourself be ruled by secondary emotions. Emotions like betrayal and heartbreak that threatened to overshadow the deep, deep love you felt for him. It was an act of mercy for both of you. So, he held you until your struggling stopped, and your consciousness slipped away. It always takes longer in real life than in the movies. And he cried with you. God, did he cry, soaking your hair with his tears as he choked you into a blackout.  

You were out for ten minutes. Ten agonizing minutes which he used to prepare for what needed to be done. Your happiness was his happiness, so he had to do something to take your mind off of the situation. Or any situation for that matter. He has never done this before, but the thought of desperate measures during desperate times, didn’t give him the opportunity to hesitate. A local anesthetic and a muscle relaxant would suffice, he decided as he rushed to gather the equipment. By the time you came to, he was already straddling your torso, leaning over you with fresh tears in his eyes. As you began to silently panic, Jonathan was quick to try and shush you. Oh, how it hurt him more than it hurt you. The lobotomy set was a Christmas gift from you. A tongue-in-cheek nod to the history of the profession he chose. It was fate. It had to be.

The tip of the ice pick-like instrument felt cold against your eye socket, and he clenched his teeth at the shiver that ran down your spine. His hands were violently shaking already, and your involuntary movements didn’t make it any better.

“Shh… shh… don’t move, angel… It’ll… it’ll be so quick, I promise.”

Another sob wrecked through his body as he lifted the delicate metal hammer.

“You need to try and sing for me, okay? Or hum. Or anything. I need… I need to know when it’s deep enough. Just try, angel. Just try, okay?”

Jonathan’s voice was as shaky as the grip on the instruments. But by God, he had to do this. He had to keep you by his side. His other half, his future, his everything. The vessel of every passion and love he poured into you. You just stared up at him through watery eyes, unable to open your mouth anymore, so you settled for humming. It was a nonsensical melody, a mish-mash of several nursery rhymes without a title. The first strike of the hammer against the orbitoclast caused an incredible pressure to spread in your skull, and black spots settled in your vision as the tip of the instrument breached bone. The crack was nauseating, but you couldn’t even struggle. Jonathan’s breathing became heavy, and he wheezed out a sob that sounded like it came from a dying animal when he saw the blood that began to fill your eye. But he had to continue.

“Just like that. Just like that, angel.”

With trembling hands, he prepared himself for the second strike, but he underestimated the adrenaline that his blackened heart was pumping through his veins. Something went wrong, his sweaty hands slipped off the equipment, skewing the angle of the pick when he hit it. And he hit it hard. Immediately, your humming stopped and turned into stuttered noises. A bead of clear fluid dripped from your nose, rolling down over your lips. This wasn’t blood.

The crushing realization that he messed up caused Jonathan to freeze entirely. Cerebrospinal fluid was leaking out of your nose at a quick rate, sending him into a blind panic. He tried to pull the pick from your eye, causing even more damage to your precious brain. A brain that was meant to love, not hurt. But here you are, wasting away before his very eyes. You’re suffering beneath him like a bird that hit a window in a curious attempt to explore. And you did explore.

Back in his childhood, he once found an injured crow in the shade of the family house. The poor thing was twitching and bleeding, much like you are now. Jonathan remembered the crushing emotions that he felt when he looked at the animal. And he also remembered the feeling when his grandmother put it out of its misery by crushing the crow’s head under her shoe like it was nothing. Like it was nothing. You weren’t nothing, but you still deserved that brand of mercy.

He doesn’t remember how he did it. Whether he wrapped his hands around your throat or injected you with enough muscle relaxant to put you down. In fact, he doesn’t remember much of the first night of complete silence. When he emerged from the blur, his throat felt raw from sobbing, and his eyes were swollen and red. He had left the room that contained your body immediately, fearing that he’d catch fire from stepping into a place that had been consecrated by the death of an angel. Eventually, after he had bitten his lips bloody and used up every tear in his eyes, he dared to face you again. And God, were you still so beautiful. And as ashamed as he was for thinking this way, there was also a positive to this. A big one at that. You would always be his. No one else would ever get the privilege of seeing your eyes or hearing your voice again. You truly belonged to him in every way. And as he stepped over to kneel besides your body and take your hand in his, he actually smiled. It was just the two of you. Like you always planned.

It was a grueling process. To strip skin from flesh, and flesh from bone. But he was patient. Patient in the same way that you were with him. Patient in a tender, saccharine way that made his insides squirm as if he was infested by maggots. But the only parasite inside of him was love. That's how it works, right? You can never truly get rid of it.

Once the bones were clean, he had to step back for a while. The impending loneliness made him stumble into the bathroom to vomit into the toiled bowl. For a good 30 minutes, he sat there. Doubled over and white-knuckling the porcelain. There was no disgust involved. Just fear. God, he was terrified of being alone again. Terrified of truly losing the one thing he couldn't breathe without. And as he sat there, heaving like a dog, he found a solution.

He ate your heart first.

Every bite, every mashing of teeth against teeth was an act of love. He had to pause a few times, chuckling at himself for his choice. How cheesy it was to go for the heart first. But how could he not? Even Jonathan wasn't immune to symbolism. It wasn't about taste or texture. It was about the growing sensation of having his stomach filled. Of having his hunger satiated by forming an everlasting connection with you. You would never be wearing his wedding ring, but you'd be with him forever in a different way. You'd be his until the day that he died. And even then, he hoped, your spirits would be so entangled that there was no way of separating the two of you. Maybe you'll get reincarnated as one soul together.

Over the course of three weeks, he forced himself to consume as much of you as he possibly could, setting the table for two since you were there as well. It always started off tame. He tried to savor the feeling of becoming one, but at some point, his composure always cracked, and he ate your body like he was a starving animal trying to fill the never-ending pit inside of him. The part that hurt him more than anything, though, was crafting a story. In the process of keeping you to himself, he had to ruin your reputation.

It was easy for others to believe. Of course, you would leave Jonathan for someone else. Most people in your small circle secretly never believed that this relationship would last. It was easy to make them believe something they had already expected to happen at some point. In this crafted lie, you went off to live with someone else, far away from Gotham. But in reality, you were always here with him. Beneath his skin that now became your own.

Jonathan never thought he’d feel peace. But now, that he has finished digging this hole in Gotham Central Park, he thinks he’s gotten pretty close. It has started to rain a few minutes ago, but he’s not bothered. In his mind, it’s your doing. Your loving attempt to wash the sin and guilt from his body. Because you know the depths of his devotion, know the intend behind his actions. This isn’t the first hole he has dug since the two of you became one. But it’s the final one. Back when he was confronted with the reality of what to do with your bones, he decided to do what you would want. You always were the romantic in the relationship, so he decided to leave your remains in places that were significant to the both of you.

His hands aren’t shaking anymore, as he pulls the plastic bag that he brought closer to himself. The material shreds quickly as his fingers tear through it, and he pulls it open to reveal the last pieces of your previous body. A tender smile spreads over his face as he reaches into the bag to pull out the bones of your fingers and wrists, remembering how he tore off the flesh and skin with his teeth. Your loving touch would always be with him. Carefully, he lowers everything into the hole he dug before he turns to the final piece. Tears of relief well up in his eyes as he gazes upon the empty sockets of your lovely skull. With the caution and gentleness of a mother setting down her newborn, he places your skull into the earth, whispering promises of everlasting love under his breath. This isn’t the end. Far from it. Once he wipes his eyes with his sleeve, he notices something else. It takes a moment to dislodge one of your molars from your jawbone, but Jonathan eventually manages. The piece of ivory bone almost seems to glow in the dim light that’s being casted by a distant street lamp. It’s your tooth. You share his now, so there’s no need for it anymore. But it’s one last piece of your smile.

And in a final act of completion, he swallows it.

[sparrows4bats]

Damian only shows his art to those he trusts for years.

His art is so deeply personal that he can't bear for it to be perceived, much less gifted to others.

Dick gets his first painting during his time as Damians Batman.

Steph gets hers after the bounce house.

Alfred commissions him so he has new art for the house. His favourite is a family portrait he keeps in his bedroom.

Duke gets gifted sketches of Signal and Gotham in the sunrise

Cass gets given beautiful moments of ballet dancers.

Bruce is given portraits of his parents.

Damian paints Tim's photographs.

Jason gets artfully designed bookmarks.

Barbara has lovely landscapes and shots of the city she protects from behind her desk.

Other get given bits and piece Damians thinks they might enjoy.

But Jon Kent has an almost constant supply and access to Damians doodles.

He is Damians' creativity buddy and sounding board. Damian draws manga and comics while Jon write stories for them.

There's only one sketchbook he doesn't get to see, the one Damian keeps locked in his desk.

Jon has asked before, but Damian always shuts him down, saying it's private, and Jon respects that even if he is curious. If the magical girl ocs were fine, what is in that particular book?

Until one day Damian is kidnapped, and he has to go through his room for clues to who took him, and even if he feels weird about it, he opens the forbidden sketchbook.

He is expecting secrets, trauma, and the parts of himself that Damian hates.

What he finds is hundreds of sketches of Jon himself.

Each one is so full of detail and so lovingly drawn that feels like he is being burned.

Every freckle is correct, Damian drew close ups of his dimples, and his scars.

Seeing himself through Damians eyes is so intimate it feels like holding his very heart.

So Jon puts the book back where he found it without the other bats noticing.

When they find and rescue Damian, Jon knows he has to tell him but how?

Jon thinks of the sketches he wasn't supposed to see, and something in him melts even while he drowns in guilt.

So one night he confronts Damian when he best friend asks him about colour palettes.

"I saw your secret sketchbook, and I am so sorry!" Jon shouts and braces himself for Damians' anger. It doesn't come.

"What?" Damian sounds scared, and that is so much worse.

"When you were missing your Dad and brothers made me go through your room! Day I'm so sorry!"

"Did they see it too?" Damian shrinks in on himself, and Jon wants to hug him so badly.

"No! I put it back straight after I realised what it was, I swear!"

Damian huffs and looks away.

"So you know?"

Jon gulps, "know what?"

"That I'm in love you." Damian looks for Jons reaction and seeing his face starts to get up to leave. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable Jonathan. I shall depart."

Jon grabs his arm. "No! Day don't leave! I'm sorry! I just need a second. Please."

Damian stops but doesn't turn around. "I do not want your pity."

"It's not pity! Damian, I love you! I have for years and I'm just sorry I saw before you were ready to show me!" Jon is getting desperate now. He can't lose Damian. He doesn't think he will survive it.

"Really? You're not just saying that to spare me?"

Jon is horrified and spins Damian to be able to see his face. "Damian, what the hell! Why would I lie about this?!"

Damian has tears in his eyes when he finally meets Jon gaze. "I don't know, it just feels impossible for you to love someone like me."

"It's impossible not to love you! Believe me, I tried! I was terrified it would destroy our friendship, and I wanted to have some of you even if it wasn't in the way I wanted."

Damian sighs and slowly kisses him. When he pulls back, he laughs a little.

"We are both idiots."

Jon grins and wipes the tear that manages to escape. "Yeah, we are, but at least we figured it out eventually. I love you, Damian. Truly and completely."

"I love you too." Then Damian kisses him again.

Jon has the sketch Damian draws of Jon asleep beside him the next morning framed.

[ai-manre]

Following the Roses: A Meta

Having remerged into the fandom now after a long break, I was surprised to see all the currently prevailing ideas on a lot of things. It looks like the longer we go without the books, the more cycles and counter-cycles of convictions we have as a fandom, as our echo-chamber gets more intense and the contexts that much matter so much in canon fade. It was interesting to see all the different ideas and head-canons of people regarding R+L now in particular (with many now stalwartly characterizing Rhaegar as a prophecy-obsessed lunatic who impregnated Lyanna, with or without her will, and that Lyanna later grew to hate him). That made me curious into delving back to see what the books tell us and try to see where the narrative is leading us. Or maybe, more specifically, it's the roses I want to follow. The winter roses.

**The Introduction**

GRRM does a beautiful misdirection in the first book. Having Ned associate Lyanna again and again with the winter roses in his thoughts, by the time the origin of the winter roses is shown in Ned's last chapter, we have already associated Lyanna singularly with the roses. Rather than feeling the full impact of them being associated with her. So I'd like to go through the winter roses chronologically instead, according to the timeline.

**What is the narrative telling us?**

>Yet when the jousting began, the day belonged to Rhaegar Targaryen. The crown prince wore the armor he would die in: gleaming black plate with the three-headed dragon of his House wrought in rubies on the breast. A plume of scarlet silk streamed behind him when he rode, and it seemed no lance could touch him. Brandon fell to him, and Bronze Yohn Royce, and even the splendid Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning.

>Robert had been jesting with Jon and old Lord Hunter as the prince circled the field after unhorsing Ser Barristan in the final tilt to claim the champion's crown. Ned remembered the moment when all the smiles died, when*Prince Rhaegar Targaryen urged his horse past his own wife, the Dornish princess Elia Martell, to lay the queen of beauty's laurel in Lyanna's lap. He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost*.

>*Ned Stark reached out his hand to grasp the flowery crown, but beneath the pale blue petals the thorns lay hidden. He felt them clawing at his skin, sharp and cruel, saw the slow trickle of blood run down his fingers, and woke, trembling, in the dark.*

>*Promise me, Ned, his sister had whispered from her bed of blood. She had loved the scent of winter roses. "Gods save me," Ned wept. "I am going mad."

This is the origin of the winter roses according to the timeline. We do not get mentions of Lyanna with the winter roses before Rhaegar crowned her with them. When Bran looks back in time and sees Lyanna, she's not seen around those roses. When the Northmen discuss her in her childhood, they don't mention her roses, only her horse-riding skills. In Howland's story of the wolf maid, she is not associated with them. Winter roses start featuring prominently around Lyanna Stark only after Rhaegar crowns her with them. Considering this to be the origin of the roses, I would find it safe to interpret that the roses don't solely symbolize Lyanna, but rather *the bond that grew between Rhaegar and Lyanna*. This way, the roses also work as a great narrative device for Ned to covertly think of R+L without directly giving it away to the readers.

This interpretation fits in very well with the next words, where Ned reaches out to touch the flower crown and feels the thorns underneath that claw at him. The beauty of the petals was hiding the "sharp and cruel" thorns underneath which could draw blood. Just like R+L's love which likely seemed a thing of great beauty to them, but resulted in pain and suffering for both of them and all around them. If, as some other interpretations go, the roses were meant to symbolize only Lyanna as a Stark maiden or represent her connection to Winterfell, it would make no sense for the sharp and cruel thorns to appear underneath.

In the words after, Ned describes her words from bed of blood and again, seemingly out of nowhere mentions how she had loved the scent of winter roses. Why was this sentence put here? In the middle of a seemingly irrelevant of her death? Following the narrative flow of where the roses began a few sentences ago, the meaning is clear. Lyanna had loved the scent of winter roses, loved the beauty of her bond with Rhaegar, maybe ignorant or uncaring of the thorns underneath.

>"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light. "No," Ned said with sadness in his voice. "Now it ends." As they came together in a rush of steel and shadow, he could hear Lyanna screaming. "Eddard!" she called. *A storm of **rose** petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as **blue** as the eyes of death.*

This is our next memory of Lyanna after the crowning at Harrenhal. Ned clashes with the Kingsguard trying to get to Lyanna, Ned's subconscious and the narrative associates this clash against a background of *storm of rose petals as blue as the eyes of death*. Again, the rose petals are associated with things like pain and blood and death. The blood-streaked sky is the background of the war, the war sparked by R+L's actions, the beautiful petals are still blowing, though they are "death". Rhaegar who is dead and Lyanna who is dying, their love that has started the fire that killed them both and many more including all the kingsguard and many northmen here here. (Though the situation was far more nuanced than just R+L being responsible for all the bloodshed that happened).

> "I was with her when she died," Ned reminded the king. "She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father." He could hear her still at times. *Promise me, she had cried, in a room that smelled of blood and roses.* Promise me, Ned. The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. *Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the **rose** petals spilling from her palm, dead and black.* After that he remembered nothing. They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it. "I bring her flowers when I can," he said. *"Lyanna was … fond of flowers."*

Now we come to her death. Ned remembers her room which had smelled of blood and roses. More importantly, he recalls the rose petals spilling from her palm as she died, implying that she had been holding on to them until the point of the death. The fact that her room smelled of roses itself implies that she had been making an effort to keep the roses around her, nothing was forcing her to have them around considering Rhaegar had left her months ago and died as well. (Unless anyone thinks evil Rhaegar ordered his Kingsguard to keep bringing roses to her against Lyanna's will? Or that the Kingsguard wanted to force her to continue having the roses around her? Imo that's ridiculous). It seems clear if we follow the narrative that the only roses these can be are the winter roses which connects her with Rhaegar. The fact that she took the effort to keep surrounding herself with roses, that she held onto the roses *until the moment of her death*, seems pretty irrefutable proof that she loved Rhaegar till the very end.

I have seen interpretations before that she was holding onto the roses as they symbolized her connection with Winterfell and her home. Apart from the reasons I had already mentioned above regarding why the roses clearly don't represent Winterfell, there is also the fact that if Lyanna wanted a connection to her home, her brother Ned Stark should be a much clearer option to cling onto rather than the roses connected heavily with Rhaegar (who according to this interpretation, she must have grown to hate). If it was only about her desire for home, we would have only gotten mentions of how hard she clung to Ned, there was no reason to mention the roses. But they were mentioned. And she did. She clung onto the roses as hard as she'd clung on to Ned, until death forced her to let go. This is capital R romanticism, Rhaegar died with Lyanna's name on his lips, Lyanna died with his roses (the last remnant of their love) in her palm. They died thinking of each other. And the roses, the roses are now "dead and black" just as both of them are.

After remembering that moment, Ned tells Robert that he brings her flowers. That Lyanna had loved flowers (note the ellipses). Lyanna had loved the scent of winter roses, even as they'd brought her death. She had loved Rhaegar, even as that brought her so much pain.

> Her eyes burned, green fire in the dusk, like the lioness that was her sigil. "The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna." *Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep.* "I do not know which of you I pity most."The queen seemed amused by that. "Save your pity for yourself, Lord Stark. I want none of it."

Next, Ned thinks of the roses when he speaks with Cersei. And this, I love this!! Ned having to confront Robert's love for his sister and all that had cost him (not getting into Robert's vices here), knowing that Lyanna had loved Rhaegar. To see his friend cost himself a life and the love of Cersei by not getting over Lyanna, unknowing that Lyanna had never loved him! What Ned doesn't know but the narrative enriches is "I do not know which of you I pity the most" because Cersei had wanted Rhaegar as much as Robert had wanted Lyanna. Both were defeated so thoroughly by R+L's love for eachother.

>He was walking through the crypts beneath Winterfell, as he had walked a thousand times before. The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. "Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. *She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood.* Eddard Stark jerked upright, his heart racing, the blankets tangled around him. The room was black as pitch, and someone was hammering on the door. "Lord Eddard," a voice called loudly.

Nothing much here, just Lyanna again with her garland of roses (aka R+L) reminding Ned of his promise to protect their only son. This is a covert reference to R+L=J. With this, we end Ned's POV and move on to the next references of winter roses.

>She smiled again, a flash of white teeth. *"And she never sung you the song o' the winter rose?" "I never knew my mother. Or any such song."*

The next time the mentions of winter roses crop up again is in Jon's story, where Ygritte asks him if his mother had never sung the song of winter rose to him. To which he responds that he'd never known his mother or such a song, unknowing that this song was the hint to his mother, that this song represented her life.

>North or south, singers always find a ready welcome, so Bael ate at Lord Stark's own table, and played for the lord in his high seat until half the night was gone. The old songs he played, and new ones he'd made himself, and he played and sang so well that when he was done, the lord offered to let him name his own reward. 'All I ask is a flower,' Bael answered, 'the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o' Winterfell.'"

>*"Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious. So the Stark sent to his glass gardens and commanded that the most beautiful o' the winter roses be plucked for the singer's payment. And so it was done. But when morning come, the singer had vanished . . . and so had Lord Brandon's maiden daughter. Her bed they found empty, but for the pale blue rose that Bael had left on the pillow where her head had lain." Jon had never heard this tale before.*

A singer and a Stark maiden. The Stark girl who loved Bael so much that she'd given him a son (just as Jon himself was born) and who later threw herself off a tower when her son brought her Bael's head. Quite a few narrative resonances here, death of the Stark maid in a tower, a relative who had a hand in the death of her love. "No flower so rare nor precious". Is there anything so rare and precious as true, unconditional love? As Maester Aemon says, "We are only human after all, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory and our great tragedy."

> But there were others with faces he had never known in life, faces he had seen only in stone. *The slim, sad girl who wore a crown of pale blue roses and a white gown spattered with gore could only be Lyanna.* - Theon V, ACOK

The next mention is, oddly enough, in Theon's prophetic dreams. Again, Lyanna is associated with the crown of roses Rhaegar gave her and death. The white gown might represent marriage as it is an interesting detail to have mentioned (instead of just calling it a gown) but I don't have strong opinions on it either way.

The next mention is the most interesting to me, as for the first time, the roses lead to the future rather than the past.

>Then phantoms shivered through the murk, images in indigo. Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name. . . . mother of dragons, daughter of death . . . Glowing like sunset, a red sword was raised in the hand of a blue-eyed king who cast no shadow. A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire. . . . mother of dragons, slayer of lies . . . Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . . - Dany IV, ACOK

>"Perhaps," she said reluctantly. "Yet the things I saw . . .""A dead man in the prow of a ship, a blue rose, a banquet of blood . . . what does any of it mean, Khaleesi? A mummer's dragon, you said. What is a mummer's dragon, pray?" - Dany V, ACOK

And what a lovely image it is. Jon, the sole child of Rhaegar and Lyanna, the only remnant of their love, growing at the Wall. For once, the imagery is overwhelmingly positive. The beautiful blue rose, against all odds, flourishes in the harshest of environments and what's more, it "fills the air with sweetness". Rhaegar and Lyanna might have died, but the child that resulted from their bond is making the world better.

The Conclusion

What's more, even in the latest calendar illustration GRRM had [commissioned](https://www.reddit.com/r/ImaginaryWesteros/comments/1093bgk/2024_calendar_cover_art_by_justin_sweet/), we know instinctively that it is Rhaegar and Lyanna thanks to the winter roses. Rhaegar who crowned Lyanna with these roses. Lyanna who died clutching them till the last moment. Their son who fights to protect the realms of men, doing the duty of a King without even knowing that he is one, that he is the King of the narrative. The blue rose who continues to bloom in the harshest of places.

The significance that in the text, it's Jon and only **JON** who is connected with/represented as the blue winter rose is important. Neither of the Stark maidens, Sansa or Arya, are ever connected with the blue rose in the text itself despite both having love for flowers. No other Stark has this motif in their story. The motif belongs solely to Bael and his Lady Stark, to Rhaegar and Lyanna, to Jon himself. It's the motif of love. Prince Rhaegar had loved his Lady Lyanna and thousands died for it. Lady Lyanna had loved her Prince Rhaegar and their child is saving the realms of men.

The roses that bloomed for them and between them. That showed how beautiful their love was and how painful. The world is cruel, the world is beautiful.

[olenvasynyt]

✨ Thank you for being in the fandom! ✨

Being here, you have contributed so much and have made so many people happy and excited. Now, just so we can get to know you better:

What made you first read the books, and which SJM series did you begin with first?

What character across all of her books do you relate to the most and why?

What inspired you to begin contributing to the fandom (i.e., fanfics, artwork, commissions, analysis, all of the above, or something else?)

Are there any accounts that you’d like to shoutout that have either inspired you, or made you feel the most welcomed and loved here?

💕 Thank you again for all that you do 💕

Awwwww thank you 💕

1. What made you first read the books, and which series did you begin with?

I found ACOTAR on tiktok in 2022. I remember that it was the same time the Barnes and Noble SF exclusive edition came out because I was buying one book at a time as I read and when I got to SF I was going to get the exclusive B&N edition but it was black and it didn’t match the rest of my copies haha. I read CC after I finished ACOTAR and officially joined the fanbase via a discord server around the same time.

2. What character across all of her books do you relate to the most and why?

I relate to both Nesta and Elain. Nesta has a lot of feelings of self-hatred which I relate to, and I think her mental health journey is very relatable and inspiring. I relate to Elain because she’s very much a people pleaser who keeps her thoughts to herself. I love both of them so much and I’m so excited for Elain’s journey because I just know she’ll be even more relatable.

3. What inspired you to begin to contribute to the fandom?

I have been writing for years but I always kept it to myself because idk, I kind of treated writing as an extreme version of daydreaming and I felt like daydreaming was embarrassing 😂😭 but I work so hard on ACOEAS for nearly three years and I was inspired by writing friends I met online both inside the fanbase and outside the fanbase, so I got the courage to finally post my stuff! I think accepting that you’re a nerd among nerds is so helpful: we’re all passionate and in love with these ships and characters, and when you talk to likeminded people, you just feel inspired. Both @zenkindoflove , @fierling , and two friends outside the fanbase were the first to read my writing and give me advice and encouragement, and that was so helpful.

And for art, I always was into art, I have been doing art classes for so many years. But art school really destroyed my mental health and creativity, so I dropped out and fell into a 6 year art slump where I couldn’t finish ANY of my projects. I felt so disheartened and sad, but I really think fanbases help with creativity and inspiration. I have so many headcanons and characters and ships I’m passionate about, so I felt compelled to get back into drawing and painting. Getting my drawing tablet for Christmas was an absolute game changer, and so many of my friends and mutuals are so encouraging and inspiring! @jadedbugart is so creative and has the same passion for Pinterest as I do and her pumping out so many gorgeous watercolor sketches was so motivating! And @bonecarversbestie ‘s organization, passion, and humor is so enjoyable and inspiring, @works-of-heart is incredibly talented, and I wish I could paint that gorgeous glowing lighting she always has in her art, and @fierling ‘s talent and expertise is such an amazing help!

4. Are there any accounts that you’d like to shoutout that have either inspired you, or made you feel the most welcomed and loved here?

I did a few shoutouts but I have so many more!!

@buffy-vanserra @jon-snows-man-bun @yaralulu @the-darkestminds @starsreminisce @yennas-stuff @sapphiresandgold @ethereal-lionheart @themadmorrigan @clarafae @thrumbolt @highlordofkrypton @clockwork-ashes @what-about-elvenis @separatist-apologist @goghwilde @crazy-ache @queercontrarian @speakingintothesilence @acourtofthought

[beauty-and-passion]

TMA - Chapters 191-200: We'll meet again

This is the last reaction post about TMA.

We’ve done it. We’ve reached the end and I am still not ready. AT ALL.

I don’t know what we’ll face, and I’m scared to find out. But we made a very long journey, just like our heroes, so it’s only fair to end it together.

Let’s do it, guys: let’s face my favourite bitch and save the world.

Maybe?

Hopefully???

<< Main Masterlist < Previous post

_______________________________

MAG 191 - What We Lose

Aaand we start the last reaction post, by finding out that Jon sleeps with his eyes open. Wonderful, I can imagine Martin turning around in their bed, cracking an eye open, so happy to be with his boyfriend… and he loses 20 years of life, because he sees a sleeping Jon, staring back at him. If this thing alone didn’t kill him by now, Martin is basically immortal.

We also learn that Celia is actually Lynne the MoneyGrabber, straight from MAG 100! Oh, I remember that MAG! It was all so easy back then: Melanie was confused about the new job she randomly got, Martin was still drawing little M+J in his secret diary, Tim was 300% done with life and my esteemed bitch Elias decided to do the most chaotic thing possible, which was making everyone record statements for The Eye.

Oh, Elias, I miss you so much. You were such a funny bitch, I can’t believe we’re going to meet you again soon <3

Thanks, Arun, I just needed another confirmation that we don’t know how this series will end. But hey, Jon doesn’t know either so, just like Martin did some MAGs ago, he lists the potential scenarios as well:

Best case scenario: they push back the Powers and Jon survives as a weak avatar

Worst case scenario: they destroy all Powers and Jon dies

“Meh” case scenario: they destroy all Powers and Jon loses a huge part of himself along with The Eye (his identity/mind/memories/whatever)

At this point, I don't know which scenario will be the right one. Considering Jon’s huge glowing “DEAD” sign on his head, I’m supposed to believe the worst-case scenario is the right one.

But this scenario has a huge problem and the problem is “destroying the Powers”. I mean, if they manage to destroy them… does that make a new world, devoid of any fear? Any fear at all?

That could be a problem. A HUGE problem. How can you make a world with no fears whatsoever? Fear is fundamental for survival. Just imagine a world where you don’t fear anything. Seems cool, until you turn on the stove, do not fear the flame and get burned alive. Or you cross the road without looking because you don’t fear the cars and a car runs over you.

Any kind of world needs fear as a factor. And I don’t know in what kind of world Protocol takes place, but I doubt it’s completely devoid of any fear.

So maybe there is another option: the option of pushing the Fears back by sacrificing something that, depending on how evil Mr. Sims is, can be Jon’s identity, mind, memory or life.

Oh, and let’s not forget that wild card called Martin. Sure, he promised his love for Jon won’t stop him from dooming the world, but he said nothing regarding killing himself too. Or sacrificing something of himself, instead of Jon. Or even sacrificing another Archivist. After all, we just found out there are a shit ton of other Archivists roaming in the galleries, all trying to reach the Panopticon. Nothing stops Martin from sacrificing a couple of them, if he can get the same result.

Oh my god, please tell me that the final moral of the story is “Don’t mess with cat owners”. Gertrude started a rampage against all Powers because The Desolation killed her cat, Georgie is going to save the world because she wants her cat back.

TMA reconfirms the biggest truth of this world: cats are the true rulers of Earth, and we humans do everything we do, because of them. No matter how many eldritch, supernatural cosmic horrors might come: cats will always be the only rulers.

The faces of two rulers. Of the house and of the world too <3

_______________________________

MAG 192 - An Appointment

Oh, my bad: the Archivists aren’t just roaming in the galleries. They’re more like fish out of the water, lying around and flopping once in a while (read: when they hear a sound).

Elias is very good at organizing a warm welcome.

Georgie gives them the typical advice of any manga or fantasy story. Love it.

Okay, that was actually very cute. Georgie might be though and fearless and whatever, but she’s still concerned and want Jon to come back alive. She’s a cutie!

Wow, rude. Didn’t Rosie read Martin’s CV? It’s clearly written he’s not “an associate”, but “the Antichrist’s plus one”. It’s here, Martin wrote it, he told me.

Speaking of Rosie: wow, she was such a forgettable (and forgotten by the narrative) character, I had no idea she was Elias’ assistant. We probably met her… what, once? Maybe twice? Don’t remember. And I love that the series justifies it, by showing how she got progressively more stuck in her place and role, useful enough for The Eye to snoop around, but weak enough to be put in a spot and stay there even during the apocalypse.

Martin has more balls than anyone in the universe: he sees Elias/Jonah/Jolene/Jimmy Magma lost in an endless litany of stories he’s Watching and Knowing everywhere, surrounded by statics, swirling paper and who knows what other dark shit and his reaction is calling him dickhead and threatening to kick his ass.

I love him. I just love him <3

Ooookay? He literally became The Eye’s pupil, so he’s the means through which The Eye can see everything, I suppose. Cool.

That means, in order to stop everything, they have to kill him? After all, how can you stop an eye from looking, if not by stabbing it? But if they do it, what stops The Eye from putting the next one (read: Jon) in this position?

_______________________________

MAG 193 - A Stern Look

Oh, look, it seems like I was right.

GODDAMIT WHY AM I RIGHT.

First of all, this:

Oh my god, please tell me that the solution to kill Jonah will be to throw stones at Elias’ body. It would be hilarious - and it would reconfirm, once again, the only true rule of TMA: that if you want to stop a ritual, you have to throw shit at it. If stopping the apocalypse requires Martin and Jon throwing shit at Elias, my life would be complete.

Second: it was nice to see a glimpse of the original Elias, the pothead guy who got a job and doesn’t even know why. He just knows he Has To Be Here, because the Master of Peepers and probably Jonah too wanted him in the Institute. Wonderful.

And thanks to that, Jon learns that hey, he can still kill his body! And kill Jonah too! But oh, look, it seems like I was right, because if you kill one Eye avatar, there is a convenient replacement available right there, a replacement called “Jonathan Sims”.

GODDAMIT WHY AM I RIGHT.

Oh good, so The Eye is not just Big Brother, the Master of Peepers and a big softie who gifts domains to the people it likes (like Martin): it’s also a backstabbing traitor, who has no problem sacrificing the faithful guy who worked centuries for it, for the new one.

Honestly, I’m not even that surprised.

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MAG 194 - Parting

Uh, so the place of honor for this party of the apocalypse was specifically made for Jon, right beside the evil entity.

Mh, I wonder if the evil entity told Jon he would fit “right in with my freaks” and that with his help his dimension “will be free” and that it will make “a fun world, a better world” and that Jon will be “greater than anything you’ve imagined”.

Footage of Jon if he joins The Eye. There are no references to Gravity Falls, you’re imagining them.

Thanks for noticing, Martin. I thought I was the only one to notice Jon was liking power a bit too much, considering his “Kill Bill” mode quickly escalated into “Petty revenges on everyone who wronged me even by accident”.

Oh my gosh, so the statement of the old knocker becoming a parasite who will never leave poor Malcolm was The Eye’s way to convince Jon to join it? A sort of “You will never get rid of me” thing?

… not exactly subtle. And a bit rude. But we already saw that with Martin: The Eye is a bit of a blunt guy. Entity. Whatever.

And yes, The Eye is getting more and more similar to Bill Cipher. I’m waiting for when it will serenade Jon to convince him to join.

And just when I was thinking: “Wait, maybe now Martin will ask Annabelle Cane for some help to save the world and Jon”, what happened? Martin and Annabelle fucking Cane disappeared.

Well, it was about time to finally see the spider lady doing something more than just being on the sidelines, playing with payphones and being Salesa’s housemate.

And I personally can’t wait to know this fucked up plan in its entirety.

For now, we have these steps:

Talking to Martin through payphones about our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ the Mother-Of-Puppets

Living with Salesa in his oasis

Cooking him dinner and keeping him alive for as long as necessary

When Martin and Jon appear, say some cryptic bullshit

Once Salesa dies, steal his camera that hides from other Powers

Bring Martin to Hill Top Road

I can’t wait to find out all the other insane moves of this overcomplicated plan. I love The Web <3

But it doesn’t matter how much I love the Powers: humans are more hilarious. And Melanie hitting Jon with her cane, while reminding him of the human power of thinking is too good.

She’s not wrong, tho: Jon is so focused on absorbing knowledge, he cannot see further than his nose. I am sure that, once he starts using his head again, he will find a more suitable solution.

Or see the glowing sign on his head that says “DEAD”, but I hope he’ll ignore it and find another way to deal with the apocalypse.

_______________________________

MAG 195 - Adrift

And what does Jon plan? To pick up Basira for help.

See, Jon? See what happens, when you use your mind to think and don’t just wait to be spoon-fed knowledge by The Eye?

So The Eye is not just a peeper, a softie and a backstabber: it’s also a fair employer that rewards you for your hard work. Pretty neat. Sure, the Knowing Everything part isn’t very nice, but working for it doesn’t sound too bad - until it backstabs you.

Oh right, I forgot to add one detail to Annabelle’s uber fucked up plan:

steal previous statements and use them to lure Jon

I love every stupid detail of this stupidly complicated plan <3

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MAG 196 - This Old House

So.

We have a hole in reality. A place where reality cracked and that may lead to other universes. A rift, if you want. An interdimensional rift, maybe.

TMA is not even trying to hide the connections with GF and I’m totally okay with it.

And now, let me see if I got The Web’s plan:

Protect this hole in reality for centuries and wait for the moment it will be cracked open (aka the death of Raymond Fielding because of the Corruption)

Spy on the Archives and use tapes to build a ginormous web

Lure-not-lure the Archivist on Hill Top Road by making him aware that there is something sinister in this place

Do one trillion bullshit moves in the meantime to shift the attention anywhere else except on this place

Consider taking Martin as part of The Web

Discard the idea

Consider feeding him to the spiders

Discard the idea again

Consider using Martin to drive the Archivist to despair

Discard the idea again because Martin is a boss and cannot be tamed by anything

Decide to tell the truth

Use Martin to bring the Archivist on Hill Top Road

Literally tie Martin so he stops doing unpredictable things

Wait for the Archivist to come so he can… completely open the hole? Turn it into the gateway to other dimensions? So Jon & co. can jump into it and leave the world to the Powers? But what would The Web gain from it? Is this another step of this overcomplicated plan?

I need more steps. Feed me more steps, spider lady.

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MAG 197 - Connected

Okay. Okay. OKAY.

First of all: Tape Recorder. You. All this time…

*Tape Recorder dramatically reveals it’s part of The Web*

100/10, Best plot twist.

The Fears: eateateateateat The End and The Web: sure, guys, this is nice, but we’ve also been thinking… The Fears: eateateateateat The End and The Web: maybe we should try to plan our future a bit more, mh? The Fears: eateateateateat The End and The Web: seriously guys, we should see a bit further… The Fears: eateateateateat The End and The Web: guys, if we take over the world, eventually we’re going to die! The Fears: eateateateateat The End: what are we going to do? Those morons are not listening! The Web: leave it to me, bro. *proceeds with the most overcomplicated plan mankind has ever seen*

I’ve said since forever that The End would eventually take over everything and look, The End and the Web both realized it. And realized they were fucked in the long-term.

So… what did The Web plan?

do all the previously mentioned ubercomplicated shit

find the right guy who will be doomed to become the Archivist and mark him since childhood WHAT THE FUCK THE WEB SAW THIS FAR IN TIME HOLY SHIT

take his voice through Tape Recorder and its clones and use it to build the web on the abyss

do all the other ubercomplicated shit

give Jon a lighter since SEASON FUCKING UNO WHEN I NAIVELY ASKED MYSELF “Oooh, I wonder what this light will be used for!” HOLY FUCKING SHIT

tell him about the connection to other worlds

convince him to destroy the Archives and kill Jonah at the same time

Once the Fears lose both grips on reality given by Jonah and the Archives, they will be pushed into the hole and into a new world still untouched by them

They can resume eating in the new world, until someone stupid enough finds a way to release them again, so the Fears will have to find another escape route again and so on forever and ever

I fucking cannot believe that the plan to save the world truly involves throwing shit. Until now, we threw shit at the Fears. Now, it’s the turn of the Fears to be thrown somewhere. Specifically, in a dimensional hole like fucking trash. I am in love.

Being a Fear sucks. Either you’re a mindless idiot or, if you’re one of the only two blessed with a brain, you will have to plan an escape route and always fear when you gain a tiny bit of power, because it may be the beginning of the end.

Considering that, if I were Jon, I would go with Annabelle’s plan with a smile on my face. I would destroy the Archives with zero remorse and kill Jonah with even less guilt.

And while he dies and I know The Eye and all other Powers are watching, I would bend and whisper into his ear, to all Fears: “Good luck finding another escape route, bitches”.

Because sure, they found a convenient escape route in this universe, but what tells them the next one will have another escape route? What if it won’t and they get trapped in their own apocalypse? And the last thing they will remember is the face of the motherfucker who trapped them?

It’s the best revenge ever. It fucks the Fears in the long run and gives a massive headache to The End and The Web, who will have to plan another escape from the start.

There are only pros here, Jon. Go with this plan.

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MAG 198 - Precipice

I kinda love how Jon’s statements are progressively more and more similar to a bathroom break. He always gets the urge in the worst situations, he needs some privacy to do them and he really should’ve checked before starting a trip, because it’s 100% sure he will get the urge right in the middle of it.

Aaaand that’s it: this episode was Jon’s bathroom break and our bathroom break too, before the grand finale.

Oh my gosh, the finale is coming. Jon should decide what to do.

So please, allow me to explain both scenarios:

Scenario 1 - Jon takes Jonah’s place

He kills The Eye? He doesn’t know.

How? He doesn’t know.

Will he survive? He doesn’t know.

Will this solve the apocalypse? He doesn’t know.

Scenario 2 - The Web’s plan

Jon gets rid of the Fears. Not just The Eye, but all of them. Even if Annabelle lied, there’s at least a 50% chance she was telling the truth and 50% is still better than 0.

How? Jon has a clear plan, step by step. He knows what to do.

Will he survive? He will lose the parts of him that are too close to The Eye. Which can mean 50% of himself. Still, 50% is better than being dead.

Will this solve the apocalypse? Yes.

Will other people from other universes die? Maybe, but he doesn’t know. Maybe they’re more clever than the ones in Jon’s universe. Maybe they will never try to evoke the Fears.

Will this fuck up the Fears in the long run? Definitely.

Will they die, one day, and remember Jon’s smug face when he exiled them in a place with no escape routes? Absolutely.

And remember, Jon: those bitches fucked you up since you were a child. They exploited you. Sure, being the one who kills them all will be satisfying, but since you have no idea if you will succeed, why not fuck them in the long run? And considering their life sucks, keeping them alive to suffer is much more satisfying than freeing them with death.

Just like you threw shit to stop the rituals, it’s now time to throw shit again, Jon. This time, it’s the Fears. Throw them and reclaim your life.

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MAG 199 - Seeing it Through

Oh, so the scenarios are not two, but three.

The Web’s plan.

Jon takes over and tries to make the place more “tolerable”.

They do nothing and let the universe rot.

But since they do not know if option 2 will ever succeed and Jon will actually be able to do anything, we can put options 2 and 3 together, thus turning them into one single option 2.

And since our heroes can understand by themselves that option 1 is an actual plan while option 2 is nothing, they all push for option 1… aside from Jon, who finally read the DEAD sign on his head and now he really really wants to die.

Worst timing EVER.

So, he makes some points that don’t make a lot of sense and I would like to jump into this conversation, because I have some points to make too, starting from: are those people in other universes doomed?

Jon thinks that they are, but he (and all others) seems to forget a pretty important detail: we’re talking about the multiverse. As Martin said, these “thousands” of other worlds on the other side of the abyss may be just a speck of the entirety of the multiverse.

Considering that, what makes Jon & co. think these worlds all have the same conditions of their own? How can they know the other realities even have the necessary conditions for life to develop?

As far as they know, life might be immensely rare in the multiverse. And nothing tells them the worlds on the other side will bear the same kind of life their world has. Maybe there isn’t life at all. Maybe there is a completely different kind of life, one that the Fears cannot feast upon.

But let’s assume there is life: as Melanie said, they don’t know if these other worlds will be doomed. Maybe the life forms are much more clever or even stronger than the Fears. Maybe they’re already dealing with other Fears and the arrival of these Fears might put the monsters against each other, in a fight that might kill them both.

So the “I don’t want to make others suffer” point is a bit weak, Jon. Not just because you don’t know if these supposed “others” are suffering, will suffer or even if they actually exist. But what if they are already suffering? And what if the arrival of the Fears represents an improvement?

Again, we don’t know how life evolved in another universe: maybe there’s one where life requires some Fears eating it.

EXACTLY.

And since they do not know the origin of the Fears, who knows? Maybe it’s just like Georgie said: they’re “just another link in a long chain of these things spreading from one dimension to the other, growing at the edges, manifesting, and then escaping to somewhere new”.

So, according to Jon, killing the entirety of humanity in his universe = good, but sending the Fears away and saving it = bad? The life that may or may not exist in other universes is more important than the life that surely exists in his universe?

I thought you wanted to save the world, Jon, not doom it.

Jon really needs to stop being spoon-fed knowledge from The Eye and use his brain to think.

But I’m not really blaming him: of course he doesn’t think straight. He cannot do it, because deep down, what bothers him is not the lives of other universes: it’s guilt.

Jon’s entire life was exploited by the Fears. And yet, he doesn’t see himself as a victim, but as the perpetrator of the apocalypse - therefore, the one who should pay for everything. He doesn’t even think about taking his life back: he was wrong, so he has to pay and he’s ready to put his life on the line to do so.

And that, of course, bothers Martin because of course he doesn’t want to lose him. As he says, if the lives that may or may not exist in other universes are important, then so it’s Jon’s. And yet, Jon is ready to throw it away like nothing.

And, again, I get it. Dying is a much easier solution, compared to staying alive and dealing with the consequences and the guilt for what he did. At this point, Jon might even feel survivor’s guilt, as if being able to finally live his life was a “reward” he didn’t deserve. Paying with his life and finally dying would be much more acceptable for him: he did many wrong things, hence he deserves to suffer even more, until he’s finally able to rest.

Considering all of this, I am afraid he won’t follow The Web’s plan at all. He will definitely do some stupid shit and get killed somehow. I don’t know how, considering Martin will be with him and do anything to prevent him from doing something stupid, but I know he will. I am 100% sure he will.

Oh, Jon, some things never change: you keep worrying me until the end.

_______________________________

MAG 200 - Last Words

GODDAMMIT JON WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THINGS YOUR WAY.

I UNDERSTAND YOU, BUT STILL.

So, Jon doesn’t just want to sacrifice himself: he wants to doom the world first, then die and leave the Fears to rot.

Listen, I get the satisfaction of killing those bitches, but:

weren’t you supposed to save the world?

weren’t you supposed to be with Martin?

why don’t you care about your own life at all? Stop trying to sacrifice yourself!

And what’s Jonah’s reaction to this? Still being a petty bitch, now and forever.

I love this man so much.

That’s the coolest statement, hands down. And it gives me some thoughts:

In some previous statements, Jon said The Eye doesn’t know its own origin. So, how can Jon finally know it? I suppose it’s because he’s the Archivist, he has been touched by all Fears, hence, when he becomes god, he can access all of their knowledge at the same time and even Know something like this.

This statement confirms that the Fears are born in this universe from some life forms, but at the end of the day, it was mostly thanks to humans that they grew. Bla bla mankind being the maker of their own demise bla bla.

Considering the parasitic relationship the Fears developed with humanity, I’m starting to wonder if they’re able to survive, once they’re on the other side of the abyss. Can they still thrive, without their original host? Can they still adapt to a new one? They’re resilient bitches after all but… who knows?

So Jon does things his way, but his plan goes to shit for one single mistake: his lighter is in Georgie’s hands, the Archives are destroyed and he’s now the last thing that links the Fears to his reality.

And yet, he’s still ready to keep going with his plan. He still doesn’t want to get rid of the Fears. He just wants to “hold on” and suffer like hell, just to not get them out. As he says to Martin: “I can’t let them out. Not again.”.

This man is so goddamn consumed by guilt, he’s ready to do anything, to not repeat his mistake. And I love and hate him and he’s so frustrating and perfectly understandable.

It’s very telling that what turns him away from his plan is not a sudden desire to live, the pull of he abyss or whatever: it’s just Martin. Martin, who has been the wild card from the start. Martin, who is the strongest character of this series, the most insane and the kindest. Martin, who thinks so little of himself. This guy is the reason why the world is saved. He loved Jon right from the start, waiting for him, until Jon learned to love him back. And that feeling is strong enough to oppose his sense of guilt.

I’m going to melt in a puddle.

Now, if Martin’s stab doesn’t magically bring both him and Jon alive and well in a new universe where they can spend their life happily married away from all shit, I will riot.

*looks at The Magnus Protocol*

Oh, that’s a marvelous sign, my dear. Truly, truly marvelous.

I place my bets on "They’ll be back in less than 10 chapters”.

Wait… are you telling me people remembered everything that happened during the apocalypse, avatars included, and lynched Simon Fairchild?

My man died just like he lived: in the most chaotically insane way.

But hey, does that mean people lynched all other avatars? Callum Brodie included? Gosh, I hope the kid just got something like, idk, detention for 50 years.

And what about that Jordan guy? The one Jon turned into an avatar? If he died too, I’ll admit it would be kinda funny: he suffered as a victim, he suffered as an avatar and, in the end, he suffers again because of people. Poor guy, he deserves some happiness.

But also: they say nothing about Annabelle Cane. Did she survive? She was close to the abyss, maybe she escaped too? And now she’s in another universe with Jon and Martin?

Now I need an AU with her, Jon, Martin and Oliver Banks being all alive and well because two are our heroes, while the other two are the avatars of the only two clever Fears.

Gosh, I can’t wait to start The Magnus Protocol.

And in the end, we get the most wonderful news: cats and owners are reunited once again. Once again, cats have been the catalyst to save the world. And now that the Fears are gone, they can finally take back their role as supreme rulers of the world.

After all, there has always been only room for one ruler, in this world.

I LOVE this ending. Think about it: Basira is talking to the last remnant of something that doesn’t exist anymore, and her words are directed to a life form that may or may not exist, in a universe who knows how distant from hers. And what she says is not an explanation, nor a plan for those who will deal with the Fears: it’s an apology for the horror they passed to them and the wish they would be able to deal with said horrors better than they did.

In a way, these words are a defeat. Humanity has not been able to personally deal with the Fears and had to get rid of them in order to survive. It reconfirmed what the story told us from the start: the Fears are an unstoppable force of nature and entropy, an enemy impossible to defeat. Even Jon, with all his godlike powers, had no way to physically harm that: all he could do was simply kill everyone, himself included, and wait for the Fears to die by starvation.

I am even more curious to know what will happen in The Magnus Protocol.

_______________________________

In conclusion

I am satisfied.

I knew Jon was going to die because he was putting his whole self into it. But this… oh, this screams “season 2” SO. MUCH.

And since I know there is a season 2 of some kind, I am a lot more curious to start it. Also because, at this point, I believe Protocol will take place in another universe, maybe the one where the Fears ended up. And that means the story is not over! My boys will come back! We will meet again... on a sunny day, why not? After all, it's only fitting to end with another GF reference.

And even if my boys don’t come back and Protocol is a completely different story, I still like this ending. I love when stories end with a mysterious note, a thread that is left open to people’s imagination.

(However, I also remember Jon saying, in season one, that he didn’t want to become another mystery, so even though I like this ending, he would’ve probably hated it. And that’s why, at the end of the day, I suppose the option “he will come back in Protocol” is more plausible.)

But for now, this story is over and I enjoyed every second of it. TMA has been a wonderful journey: I started it with zero expectations, then they grew along with my interest. I’ve been intrigued, surprised, shocked, worried. I was wary of Mr. Sims, but the more the story progressed, the more he proved to me how clear his vision was and how he had a plan to follow until the end.

And so he did, and he wonderfully wrapped all threads. Heck, even something small, like the end of Simon Fairchild: I was almost resigned to never knowing what happened to him, but nope, Mr. Sims closed his storyline too. And if he cared about something this little, then the care and attention are much stronger with something as convoluted as The Web’s plan that, with its turns and pieces, left nothing to chance.

I also found the same care in the characters that made this world. The Fears are probably one of the most interesting entity I’ve seen and the information about them has been perfectly distributed along the seasons. We learned more about them little by little, and can we take a moment to remember how wonderful season four’s ending was, when we learned they were all parts of a whole? Uuurgh, my brain still remember how wonderfully satisfying it was that reveal <3

The human was also immensely interesting. Some characters were forgettable, others were fun, others became my sons, others got my heart in a tight grip. Simon Fairchild and his insanity, my boy Gerry, my other boy Tim, Daisy and Basira, my gurl Helen, my esteemed bitch Elias/Jonah, Peter Lukas, Gertrude: each of them had something that will stick with me for a very long time.

Last but not least, our protagonists: Martin and Jon, both tragically human, both wonderfully complex, both walking issues in need of therapy, both faulty, both amazing. They made me laugh, they worried me, they turned me into an emotional mess. And I love that, because that means I’m dealing with characters, not flat cardboards. They are never perfect and that’s what makes them so good and so captivating.

I’ve heard a lot of stories about how good TMA was and now, I can proudly say that those stories were true: TMA is truly a great series. It’s written by someone who knows what he’s doing, the plot evolves organically, the characters evolve too. And the voice actors are in-cre-di-ble.

It has been a pleasure to read/listen to this story and I had a lot of fun doing it. That’s why I hope you all enjoyed your time too. Maybe you already knew it and had fun reading my 200 wrong theories and the 200 correct ones. Or maybe you read it with me and screamed, yelled and became a mess with me. In that case, I hope I was a nice company.

And now? Well, now it’s time for me to see what the fandom made, to snoop around, learn about the memes, watch 200 animatics, enjoy some fanfictions and probably reblog a lot of stuff. I’ve blacklisted TMA for a long time, fearing any kind of spoiler: it’s finally time for me to read everything.

Well, almost everything.

The Magnus Protocol, I will soon come for you.

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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