#of course jon is excellent as well

[naminethewitch]

After having watched The Summoning so many times, I am certain of my first impression that Lauren's performance as Blinky is my favorite, at least from the new Lords of Black.

Her giggling is... so chilling and I love it 💜

[feyhunter78]

I’m actually DYING for part 14 of the Dreadful Need of the Devotee, like my pain is clinical and your writing is the only thing that will cure me 🙏

No rush of course, I’m just in love with this story!! (But please, I need it badly)

I got you babe!!!! Enjoy <3

Chapter Fourteen - Ser Arthur Dayne has returned to court. Ch 15

Jon sits in Tyrion’s solar, the small table that sits between you all laden down with breakfast foods and teas. He is seated across from Tyrion, while you are seated next to Jon across from Ser Arthur, your soon-to-be good-father.

Introductions had gone well, you complimented his father, he complimented you, your betrothal was announced, and Jon had to keep himself from kissing you. The joy that radiated from you was so intense, he could not help but smile like a lovesick fool. But now, now the doubts begin to creep in.

If he had been told at the age of two and ten, he would be sitting with his soon-to-be wife a Lannister, the Imp Lannister and Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning who was also his true father, Jon would not have believed whoever spoke such things to him. Truly he would have thought them playing a cruel joke, but now he sat in that very position wondering if it would all be revealed a horrid prank. A test to see how much the bastard boy could be convinced to believe.

You place your hand atop Jon’s where it rests on his knee, your brows furrowing in concern, and he waves you off, focusing on the meal set in front of him. You and him often broke fast together, and it was not too uncommon for your father to join the both of you, but this time it was different.

“Lady y/n, your father tells me you are a talented seamstress.” His father says, cutting into his sausage, his eyes, those dark purple eyes, so like Jon’s in the right light, observe you with an oddly formal air.

“I am, in fact the tunic Jon is wearing this morn is one I made myself.” You say, gracing Jon with a smile so bright it rivals the sun, and he turns further towards you following it as crops do, ever reaching, ever seeking your warmth and light.

His father hums in acknowledgement, examining every stitch of his tunic. “It is well-made; and the embroidery is quite detailed. It is not what one would think a sworn sword would be given by his charge.”

“He is my champion, seen as an extension of myself, I would never leave my chambers in rags, or dull, dreary clothing, so why should my sworn sword?” You say, taking a sip of your tea, sizing the man up.

“An interesting perspective.” His father comments, his eyes flickering to Jon.

“I suppose so.” You respond, dabbing your mouth with your cloth napkin.

“She is also a wonderful dancer.” Jon adds, unsure of his place in the conversation. He has never before been privy to these situations, and it is both exhilarating and terrifying.

“I am only wonderful because I have such an excellent partner that allows me to keep my skills sharp.” You smile prettily at him, and he watches the mask slip into place, you are attempting to charm the father by charming the son.

“They are a most excellent pairing, even Robert before he oh so tragically passed said they would make a good couple.” Tyrion says, spreading strawberry jam onto a thick slice of bread.

If I were not a bastard. He said we would be a good match if I was not a bastard. Jon thought bitterly.

“It pains me to know my son had love within his grasp for so long and could not claim it, I would soon see that rectified.” His father says, pulling a folded letter from his pocket. “I have kept this for you, it is a signed statement from the septon that presided over your mother, and I’s wedding. It was quick, not the lavish affair I would have wished to give her, but it was true in the eyes of The Seven.”

Jon feels you lean into him, reading the letter along with him.

“I fear it will not be enough. Aunt Cersei tore up Uncle Robert’s will, what if someone does the same to this?” You ask.

“Your Uncle Robert was dead he could not defend his will, but Ser Arthur is here, in the flesh.” Tyrion says.

Jon folds the letter and returns it to his father. “When would this take place? I would like to inform my siblings; they should not hear it from strangers or gossip.”

“They know, Lord Stark told them and Lady Stark once I had confirmed Ser Arthur was alive and wished to see you.” Tyrion assures him.

Jon pokes at his eggs, the yolk running, yellow-orange liquid tainting the white outer edges. He is glad the truth is known, but will this change how they see him? Will little Arya no longer trust him, will she keep him at a distance as Sansa had now that he is revealed as an impostor, a stranger? And Robb, his brother, will he still call him by that name, will he still hold the same love for him? At least Lady Catelyn will no longer have reason to hate him, he is not proof of her husband’s indiscretions, but his love for his sister.

“Where does Jon fall in the line of succession for Starfell?” Y/N directs the question towards his father, bringing him out of his gloom-stricken thoughts. “I know Lord Edric Dayne is your eldest brother’s son, but he is still a child close to Arya’s age, and your sister does not yet have children, does this not make him third after you?”

His father smirks and leans forward, placing his elbows on the table. “Do you wish him to be second?”

You mimic his posture, voice deadly calm, face unreadable. “I do not condone the murder of children, even if it would catapult Jon to heir of Starfell. I was merely asking a question.”

His father laughs, the sound warm, boisterous, filling the room as he leans back in his chair. “Your father has taught you well, lioness. But yes, Jon is third, if Edric, Seven forbid, were to die then I would take the seat, and Jon would follow after me.”

“We need not worry about that though, he will be by my side at Casterly Rock, is that not right, Father?” You hold your position, eyes still on Jon’s father.

“I have not yet heard word back on our family’s succession, your grandsire still holds out hope that Jaime will leave the Kingsguard and return home.” Tyrion drawls, before taking a sip of his tea.

“But he will not, and even if he did, would it not be shameful?” You venture, stirring your own tea with the tiny spoon provided.

“We shall see what options lay before him when our new king takes the throne, he could take Jaime’s head.” Tyrion says, his eyes on his bread, he has still not taken a bite, Jon feels confident that Tyrion will not be eating this morn.

“I am sure Robb will be merciful to Uncle Jaime, perhaps he could send him to the Wall? As loathe I am to think of him being sent far away, I imagine his skills would be of good use there?” You turn to Jon for confirmation.

Jon’s stomach churns, he wishes to tell you the truth, that it matters not what Robb thinks. “Yes, they are always in need of skilled and hearty men.”

“Oh, and then we could visit him, could we not?” Again, your question is directed at him, and he fights back the bile rising in his throat. He did not like this new weight, this new secret he must keep from you.

“The Wall is a long journey, even from Winterfell.”

“No journey is too long when it comes to family.” You say, dismissing his spoken worries with a smile and a wave of your hand.

“Little lion, perhaps we save our travel plans for after the new king arrives?” Tyrion suggests, seeming unfazed by the half-truths that roll off his tongue.

“Of course, Father.” You say, giving him a smile and tucking back into your breakfast.

Jon cannot eat, he can barely swallow. He wants to tell you the truth, wants to throw you over his shoulder and run, run all the way to Winterfell and hide you there until all this chaos has subsided.

“I think a wedding in Dorne is completely out of the question Ser Arthur, do you really believe people would attend a Lannister wedding that is not held at Casterly Rock or the Red Keep?” Tyrion says, pulling him back into the conversation that had proceeded without him.

“But it is not a Lannister wedding, it is a Dayne wedding.” His father smiles, sending Jon a wink.

“My daughter is a Lannister, in the eyes of Westeros it is a Lannister wedding, and truly it must be held at Casterly Rock, gods know the Red Keep has seen enough weddings.”

“House Martell will not attend if it is at Casterly Rock, which means Myrcella will not attend.” His father reminds Tyrion.

“Father could it not be held somewhere more neutral? I so want Myrcella to be able to attend.” You ask, looking at him pleadingly.

“I am sure once the new king comes into power, the Martells will not hold the same anger towards our family as they once did.” Tyrion reassures you, reaching across the small circular table to pat your hand.

Yes, because all who they hold anger towards will be dead. Jon thinks solemnly, guilt eating him alive.

“I will trust you then.” You say, before turning to Jon’s father. “Ser Arthur, are there any marital traditions that you would like us to observed for the wedding?”

He thinks for a moment, resting his hand on his chin, the dark stubble so like Jon’s but flecked with gray. “There are none that come to my mind at the moment, but I will think on it and if any return to me, I will inform you.”

“No bedding ceremony.” Jon says, he will fight for this, not only to spare you the brutality, but as an apology for the secrets he must keep.

“I will not argue with that.” You laugh, picking up two strawberries and handing one to him as you bite into the other one.

Jon takes it from you, his teeth breaking the delicate flesh, the sweet juice tasting like ash on his tongue.

The look upon Cersei Lannister’s face when his father steps into Highgarden’s Great Hall, is enough to make Jon forget why he is even standing before the royal family. His father wears a cloak of lilac, the white sword and falling star crossed in the center proudly displayed, Dawn strapped to his side. His curls are cleaned and styled, his beard trimmed, his armor and boots shining. When he takes a knee bowing his head to Tommen, Jon does the same, feeling a flicker of excitement when their knees hit the floor at the same time. Perfect synchronicity.

“Ser Arthur?” The startled exhale of his father’s name escapes Ser Jamie’s lips before he can stop it, his conflicted expression betraying far more than simply shock. There is grief, rage, longing, and confusion all whirling within Ser Jamie’s widened emerald eyes.

“My King, I have come to ask that you legitimize my son. I have brought the parchment signed by the septon that married myself and Lady Lyanna Stark. Jon is not a snow, he is a Dayne, my trueborn and only child.”

Tommen does not move, does not speak, he looks at Margaery who has her hand in her grandmother’s.

“Let us see this parchment.” Lady Tyrell says, holding a wizened hand out.

His father rises, and Jon does as well, watching as he delivers the paper to Lady Tyrell, who shares it with Margaery.

“You were thought dead Ser Dayne, why did you not return to King's Landing to take up in the service of your new king when my husband ascended to the throne?” Cersei asks, her jade eyes alight with rage, sparking like wildfire.

“I was badly injured at the Tower of Joy and was unable to make the journey for many years.”

“Unable to make the journey and to retrieve your son, it seems.” Cersei drawls, skimming the parchment, then handing it to Ser Jaime.

Jon can see how his hands shake, the color draining from his face.

“I was told Lord Stark treated him kindly, as if he were his own son, it was better for him to remain there than at the bedside of a nearly crippled man.” The shame that colors his tone clearly tugs on Tommen’s heartstrings.

He has not dared to think what his life would have been like if he had lived with his father. All he knows is he would not have met you, and he does not consider that much a life at all.

Tommen clears his throat, looking at Margaery once more, she nods.

“Ser Dayne, you swore an oath, Kingsguard cannot marry or have children.” Cersei cuts in, stepping forward, her head held high.

Jon bites his tongue hard. The irony in her statement…

His father fares better, nodding his head towards her, his tone steady. “I am no longer a whitecloak, I lost the right to that title when I aided Prince Rhaegar in stealing away my dear Lyanna. I am only a knight of the realm now, Queen Mother.”

Tommen goes to speak, surely in agreement with his mother, but Margaery puts her hand on his arm and leans down to whisper in his ear.

Jon tries not to fidget, tries not to look at you, you who sits beside your father, dressed in a well-tailored gown the shade of pomegranates, your hair swept away from your face, a golden pendant around your neck. He will ruin it all if he looks at you.

His father puts a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“In honor of my queen’s nameday I will grant her request. Ser Jon Snow, you shall no longer be a Snow, but a Dayne, Lord or Ser Jon, whichever you would like, of House Dayne, son of Ser Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning.” Tommen says, smiling brightly when Margaery plants a chaste kiss of thanks to his cheek.

His father gives his thanks, bowing low. Jon follows his example, keeping his expression grateful but neutral as they return to the sidelines, ducking behind the crowds of nobles as Tommen and Margaery begin to leave the hall. It is only when they have disappeared from view that his father embraces him, crushing him to his chest.

Jon returns the embrace, joy running wild through him.

His father pulls back, a wide smile on his tanned face. “My son, oh, it is good to say that aloud, to say it where anyone can hear. We must celebrate, do you have a preference for wine? ”

“No, Father.” Jon tests the word out, rolling it on his tongue, it feels strange but pleasant. “I do not.”

His father smiles. “We shall soon fix that, but first, you must return to your duties, no?” He jerks his head towards you.

Jon nods. “I must.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain

[dccomicsimagines]

Hello There - Jon Kent x Reader

Requested by Anon -  hello! i love your works, you are an excelent writer :D! Can i request an one shot were batsis (from fitting in) and jon fall in love? she highkey deserves a fairy tale romance and i think bruce and damian reactions would be very funny haha

Requested by Anon -  I know you basically just finished one big Jon x reader, but do you think could please make another fic or headcannon with him? It could about anything you choose. 👉🏼👈🏼 (P.S. - it's been said already but I'll say it again; WILIF is m a s t e r p i e c e ✨)

Author’s Note - This took me a year to write. Happy Holidays!

***

You bit your lip as you left your biology lab and headed outside to the sprawling campus of Metropolis University. The air was crisp and fresh as it always was late autumn. It was warmer in Metropolis than it was in Gotham. You theorized it was because the sun shined more here. 

Your phone beeped. Your next class wasn’t for another hour and you planned to use this time to finish your paper for Medieval Literature. A sigh escaped you. You pulled out your phone, looking at it as you walked. 

‘Are you coming home this weekend?’ You held back an eye roll. Your father couldn’t leave you alone, could he?

‘No, I have plans here. I’ll be back in a month for winter break.’ You looked up to avoid walking into a group of women exiting the library. A smile pulled at your lips. You could show him your medieval lit paper then. Your plan was to write how Beowulf's preoccupation with glory led to the current glorification of superheroes. The look on Bruce’s face would be priceless.

It took him a long time to answer to the point where you were expecting a call from him. However, you only got another text. ‘Be safe.’

You snorted, smiling. That was as close to I love you that Bruce Wayne got. ‘Love you, Dad.’

Just as you hit send, you ran straight into what felt like a brick wall and toppled back to land hard on your butt. The jolt went straight through your bones painfully. You grunted. “I’m so sorry,” a male voice said. A hand appeared in your vision. You eyed it.

“No, I’m sorry. I was texting and walking.” You took the hand after a moment and got to your feet. Your butt hurt a lot. It was going to bruise. You finally looked at the man you ran into. Your breath vaporized from your lungs. 

He had the prettiest blue eyes with rich black hair. His smile was big, head tilted like a curious puppy. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling back at him. “Are you hurt?” He kept your hand a second too long. You felt your face burn. 

“No, I’ll be fine.” You pulled your hand away and brushed off your clothes. He looked familiar for some reason. “Have we met before?”

It was his turn to blush as he flicked his head to get the hair out of his eyes. “We’re in the Physics of Star Trek class together.” You bit your lip. Right, that class you took because Tim saw it when you were picking classes and begged you to take it for him. At least it counted as a general course and to be honest, it was pretty cool.

“Oh, you were the one who tried to argue that Superman’s laser eyes were basically the same concept as Star Trek’s phasers.” You shook your head. “Who would have thought that would cause a debate that took the entire class period?”

“I know, right?” He grinned brightly, shifting on his feet. “Well, I was about to get some food from the cafeteria? Would you like to join me?” 

You thought about the work you were going to do, but then you remembered how you promised Alfred that you would try to enjoy yourself. “Sure,” you said, turning to walk beside him. “What was your name again? I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” Luckily, Bruce let you enroll under your mother’s name to keep you safe from the dangers that came with the Wayne name.

“I’m Jon Kent.” He held the door to the cafeteria for you. “It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

You laughed, heading inside with Jon right behind you.

***

The next day in the Star Trek class, you found Jon sitting next to you with that same dopey, puppy grin on his face. Your heart fluttered when his arm brushed against yours by accident as he raised his hand to start another controversial debate. Jon got a kick out of it. You felt it was some kind of inside joke for him. Maybe he’d explain it to you some day.

After class, Jon walked out with you. “So that was my last class for today. What about you?” he asked, looking at you with his full attention. 

“Oh, well it’s the last class for me too.” You smiled when you saw his eyes sparkle at your words.

“Great!” He blushed when he realized he was shouting. His voice softened. “Would you like to go downtown with me? It’s student night at the movie theater. Five dollar tickets.” He chuckled nervously. “The new Transformers movie came out or if you wanted to see something else, I’m game.”

You eyed him, feeling lighter than air. Why did this feel so surreal? Like you were in a movie and this was a classic romance. “Sure.” Your heart skipped a beat when he practically exploded with energy. 

“Awesome!” He hopped over a crack in the sidewalk. You swore he floated for a second before he landed. 

“I want to drop my stuff off first, so I’ll meet you outside Gnanatti Hall in a half an hour?” You turned away from him, headed toward your dorm. 

“Yeah! I’ll see you there.” Jon waved happily at you. You waved back, blushing when you saw people were watching you two. A girl laughed with her friends that Jon was like a lovesick puppy. You felt a wave of doubt flow through you. Could Jon like you like that? You shrugged, deciding not to focus on that right now. 

***

Your roommate lounged on their bed, watching you primp yourself in the mirror. “You have a date or something?” 

“Maybe? I don’t know.” You shrugged, finishing the last touches on your makeup. It did feel like a date, didn’t it? “I just want to look good anyway in case.”

“Well, if you need the room, just text me. I can go hang out with Taylor in her room, but just don’t be all night,” your roommate said, getting up to grab their laptop. 

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t think it will come to that.” Your heart sank about the idea of being so loose. Besides, you didn’t think Jon was just trying to get into your pants anyway. “But thanks.”

“Sure.” Your roommate opened their laptop and started working on homework. You gathered your purse and phone. “Call me if you need an out.”

“Thanks.” You waved at them and headed out. To think, your dad almost insisted on paying for a private room, but you wanted to have the full experience. Alfred agreed with you. Bruce couldn’t do anything after that. 

You glanced at your phone as you headed down the stairs to see a text from Damian. It was a photo of Titus. You sent him a heart back and told him to give him a pet for you. Damian always reached out with Titus as an excuse as if he couldn’t handle missing you himself.

Jon was outside the dorm, bouncing from foot to foot. He grinned when he saw you, nervous energy bouncing off him. You waved and went to meet him. “You look beautiful,” he said, eyes going from your feet to your face several times. 

“Thanks.” Your cheeks burned. “You don’t look bad yourself.” Jon blushed and offered you his arm. “Are we walking or taking the bus?”

“I was thinking we could walk. It’s a nice day.” Jon led you down the sidewalk and off campus. You relaxed, letting yourself enjoy.

***

“So I didn’t think you’d be an ice cream person?” Jon teased as he handed you a cone. You smiled, accepting it.

“Who isn’t an ice cream person?” You took a lick, savoring the taste. It reminded you of the rare times your dad would pick you up from school. He always took you out for ice cream after you swore not to tell Alfred. 

Jon hummed, taking his own cone. “Lactose intolerant people.” He chuckled, holding the door to the ice cream shop for you. You stepped out into the cold night air. The person inside the shop thought you both were strange for getting ice cream on a chilly night, but Jon was so excited. You couldn’t say no. “My mother doesn’t like it because it’s too cold.” 

“Really?” You laughed. “To be honest, my...” You had to think about what to call Alfred. Butler came with it’s own impressions. You didn’t want Jon to know. “Grandfather doesn’t like ice cream either, but he always keeps some around for everyone else.” 

“So you have a grandfather?” Jon nudged your side. “Did he raise you?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. The two of you walked slowly back toward campus. “Somewhat. My dad was there too, but my grandfather was the one who was always there.” You smiled, making a note to yourself to call Alfred. “What about you?” You side eyed him with a playful smirk. 

“Well, I have a mom and a dad.” He didn’t meet your eye. You caught the slight downturn of his lips. He was holding back something. “I’m not close to my mom’s dad, but I know my dad’s mom pretty well.” 

You wrinkled your nose slightly, sensing his discomfort. “I never asked what your major was.” 

Jon accepted the subject change with a smile. Funny, was Jon hiding his family like you were hiding yours? “Oh, I’m undecided right now. I have a lot of interests.” He nudged your arm and licked his ice cream. “What about you?”

“I’m majoring in business,” you said, smiling at him before taking a lick of your ice cream. “But I might just switch my major over to classics and minor in something else. I want to do something that interests me instead of what will make me a career.” You bit your lip. Of course, you were set for life simply because of your father. You knew it was a privilege. 

“Classics?” Jon blinked. “Wow, that makes a lot of sense.” 

You elbowed his side. “What is that supposed to mean?” You narrowed your eyes at him while he smirked.

“I just meant I noticed you were carrying a textbook of Greek lit when we met, so now it makes sense.” Jon took a lick of his ice cream. “I kinda thought you were an Amazon or something.” 

You snorted. “Just because I study Greek lit doesn’t mean I’m an Amazon. Are you an alien just because you are in the Star Trek class?” You laughed when Jon choked.

“No.” He chuckled nervously, stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. You grabbed his arm to steady him. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Sorry if I hit a nerve there.” A flash of guilt filled you. You wondered why he seemed so taken back by your comment? 

“No, you’re fine.” Jon looked at you. “You just took me by surprise, I guess.” He smiled. “By that logic, would the whole class be Aliens including you?” 

“I suppose.” You laughed, finishing your ice cream as you both reached campus. “We should bring that up in class next time.”

Jon laughed hard. You liked the sound of his laugh. It was so open and free. You and Jon kept walking past your dorm hall and doing loops around campus, not wanting the night to end.

***

Weeks past, you and Jon were inseparable. You did your homework together, went to movies, had lunch and dinner together and a billion other things. If this was what falling in love was, you enjoyed it. 

Two days before you were going home for winter break, you and Jon were at the Metropolis Mall. It was a huge place and you had to take two buses to make it there. The entire mall was blaring Christmas music and decorated to the nines. Jon was bouncing on his toes like an eager child. You were glad that you had already gotten his gift. He was too excited to not notice if you picked up something for him here. 

“So where should we go first?” Jon asked, reaching to take your hand. You smiled at how warm his hand was in yours. It had gotten colder in Metropolis the last few weeks, but Jon was always warm. You don’t know how he did it. 

“I don’t know. I need something for Cass, my sister.” You bit your lip. Jon squeezed your hand, pulling you along toward the Cinnabon. “What about you? I mean, besides Cinnabon for yourself?” 

“Cinnabon for you too,” Jon chuckled, getting in line. “We need food before we walk around this place anyway.” He squeezed your hand again. “I need to get something for my mom and dad.”

You hummed, distracted by three kids running by. They were clearly high on sugar as their parents chased after them. “This is so strange. We never went to malls when I was growing up.”

“Well, you did live in Gotham. Do they even have one?” Jon teased, letting go of your hand to slid his arm around your waist. 

“They do. We just never went.” You avoid telling him how Alfred thought it was an indecent place and refused to allow you to go there. The first time you went was when you were sixteen with friends. So far, you avoided mentioning you were from the Wayne family. Cass was the only name you dared to voice. 

“We came every year. My mom loves the decorations.” Jon blushed slightly. “Plus we always went holiday shopping for my dad together.”

You smiled, leaning your head against Jon’s shoulder. “That sounds nice. My family didn’t really have any traditions except for Christmas dinner and presents afterwards.” 

“That’s kinda sad.” Jon rubbed your back. You got to the front of the line and Jon ordered for both of you. It’s amazing how well he knew you in such a short amount of time. Then again, you knew him quite well too, which is why you slipped the clerk your credit card before he could give his. “Hey, I got this.”

“Nah, my treat.” You winked up at him, taking the card back once it was processed. “Besides, you need to save your money for nice things for your parents.” 

The two of you got your drinks and cinnamon rolls and sat down at one of the tables. “Are you sure you have to go back to Gotham?” Jon asked, frowning slightly. 

“Yeah, I promised my family. They’re even coming to pick me up.” You blushed as you tried to take a bite of the cinnamon roll, but it was too big. Jon just went into his, getting frosting on his nose. You laughed, reaching over to wipe it off with your finger. 

“So I’ll get to meet them?” Jon asked once he swallowed, smiling when you licked the frosting off your finger. You froze.

“Maybe not.” You bit your lip. “I’d rather they not know about you yet. Keep you to myself.” Your heart sank when you saw his face fall. “Not that I’m trying to hide you or something, it’s just my family is overbearing. I want us to be just us until we add them in. Don’t want to scare you off.” You laughed, smoothing it over.

The sparkle came back to Jon’s eye. “Really?” He took another big bite of his cinnamon roll. “You’re just going to have to go for it, (Y/N).” He nodded to your roll.

You sighed, picking it up and taking a big bite. Frosting got all over your chin and nose, but the taste was worth the mess. Jon reached over to wipe frosting off your face with his finger, copying what you did to him. It made you laugh. Your laughter triggered his too and soon the people around you stared wondering what you two were laughing about.

***

It took several walks around the mall for Jon to find a present for his parents. You finally convinced him to get one of those engraved glass figures. He gave the man a photo of the two of them, and you had to wait an hour for it to be processed. 

Meanwhile, you looked for a present for Cass. She was the hardest to shop for. Jon gave his opinion and eventually found you a super soft sweater that you knew Cass would love. 

“So we got another half an hour until the glass thing is done.” Jon put his hands in his pockets. He held his elbow out, so you could hook your arm in his. “What should we do?”

“I don’t know.” You laughed, leaning against his arm. “We could...” You frowned when Jon suddenly stopped, tilting his head to the side as if he was listening to something. “You okay?” 

“Yeah.” He smiled, pulling away from you. “I just need to use the bathroom real quick.” He blushed and ran back the way you came. You watched him go. It was very odd. He never did something like that before except for the time you maybe got him too excited. 

You walked over to a coffee place and ordered yourself and Jon a coffee. You heard the girls’ behind the counter talking about a bank robbery stopped by the young sexy Superman. They must be talking about Conner. You met him once at the manor when he stopped by for Tim. He was very cute and knew he was. Actually, you were sure he was probably the only non-family hero you met. Dad always made sure you were kept out of the way of his night work.

“Hey, I’m back,” Jon said suddenly, appearing behind you. He was out of breath, hair disheveled. 

“You didn’t have to run back so fast.” You reached up to adjust his hair. Jon blushed slightly, eyes widening. “I got us coffee.” 

“Cool.” He smiled sheepishly, picking up the order once they called your name. He handed you your cup. “Thanks babe.”

You raised an eyebrow at the new nickname before you decided you liked it. “Now what should we do?” You hooked your arm with his and led him away. 

“I think we should check out that arcade.” Jon pointed across the way to the brightly lit arcade. “Let’s see what we can do.”

“Alright, but I’ll warn you. I’m pretty good at these.” You nudged his side, laughing when he looked at you in surprise.

“Really? Oh please, I’d like to see that.” He smirked. The two of you wandered inside. You kicked his butt at every single game you played.

***

“(Y/N)!” You jerked awake only to see your disgruntled roommate hovering over you. “Your boyfriend is here. Can you tell him to only come at decent hours next time?” They went back to their bed. 

“Sorry.” You yawned, sitting up to glance at your clock. It was six in the morning. You were supposed to get up in an hour to pack and meet Alfred at eight in the parking lot. Climbing out of bed, you slipped on a pair of slippers and shuffled out of your dorm room to find Jon standing nervously in the hallway. He was fully dressed for the day. Probably doing his morning jog that he told you he did every morning. “What’s up?”

“Hey.” Jon looked you up and down, smiling at your pajamas before taking your hand and guiding you down to the lounge. It was empty at this hour. “I wanted to see you before you left.” 

“Jon, we said goodbye last night.” You squeezed his hand, taking a seat on the couch. He sat down right beside you. His thigh brushed against yours. You yawned again, noticing he was wearing the sweatpants you got him. 

“I know, but I had to give you my present.” You blinked at him.

“You gave me a lovely bath bomb set, Jon. I can’t wait to use it when I get home.” Leaning over, you kissed his cheek. “You don’t need to get me anything else.” 

Jon shook his head. “No, I needed to get you something more meaningful. I talked to one of my friends last night. He told me I was an idiot to give the girl I love bath bombs.” He blushed so red that his face rivaled the poinsettia in the corner of the room. 

Your jaw dropped. “Love?” Your mouth went dry, heart spasming. “You love me?”

Jon nodded. “I do.” He smiled shyly, taking your hand in his. “I couldn’t let you go without telling you.” 

“I’m coming back, you know.” You laughed nervously. “But I love you too, Jon.” You met his eye, seeing the joy sparkling in his eyes. Slowly, you leaned over to seal a kiss to his lips. Jon melted into you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you against his chest. He was so warm. 

Jon started laughing. You giggled along with him, pulling away to gather yourself. Your lips tingled from the pressure. “I wanted to give you this,” Jon said, swallowing back his laughter as he pulled a jewelry box out of his pocket.

“You didn’t have to.” He placed the box in your hand.

“Open it.” Those puppy dog eyes were on full power and you opened the box. Inside was a golden necklace with a tiny star pendant. 

A big smile pulled onto your lips as you took it out, noting the tiny designs etched in the star. “Wow.” You took a deep breath. “Can you put it on me?” You turned, handing Jon the necklace. 

“Of course.” Jon chuckled. His fingers feather-light on the back of your neck. “I’m glad you like it.” He kissed the back of your neck once he closed the clasp. “I wanted something you could remember me by while you’re at home.”

“It’s not like you won’t be able to call or text me.” You turned to face him, touching the necklace. It made your skin tingle when he gave you that puppy dog grin. “It’s only three weeks. I’m coming back a week before everyone else to set up my internship at the Metropolis Library Archives.” 

Jon leaned forward and stole another kiss. “You’re so smart and beautiful. I can’t believe I met you sometimes.” 

You smiled into the kiss, pulling away when you caught the time on the wall clock. “I have to get ready to leave.” It hurt to stand up, knowing you wouldn’t see him for three weeks. “But we’ll text.” 

“We can even zoom call too.” He got up, frowning slightly. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” You took a step toward him. Jon wrapped his arms around your waist. You pressed against him as you slowly kissed him one last time.

***

It surprised you when you got a text from Dick telling you he’d meet you in the parking lot. You went out with your bags, slightly confused. Alfred said he was going to pick you up. Worry nibbled it’s way inside you. Was Dad hurt? Was someone dead? You hated your family sometimes. It was very much like them to not tell you something like that until you had to find out.

Dick leaned against the car with his arms crossed, looking around the campus with interest. You noticed two women were eyeing him, checking him out from afar. You had to hold back the eye roll. 

He perked up when he saw you. “Hey kiddo.” He opened his arms for you. You reluctantly gave him a hug. “It’s been too long.”

“Who’s hurt?” you asked. You felt him wince in your arms. 

“Why does someone need to be hurt?” Dick pulled away and took your bags to put in the trunk. You noticed he must have borrowed one of Bruce’s cars. It was the Porsche. Dick basically had a claim over that one. 

“Because Alfred was going to come pick me up, and the only reason for Alfred to not be here is if he’s needed elsewhere.” You frowned, narrowing your eyes at him when he closed the trunk and allowed you to see him again. He bit his lip, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay, you caught me.” He held up his hands. “Bruce may have taken a bad fall during a recent ski trip.” Your eyes widened. That was code for broken bones or more. You swallowed hard.

“Is he okay?” You asked, a lump forming in your throat. Dick gestured for you to get into the car. You did and he quickly joined you.

Dick turned on the car, turning up the heat. “He had a bad fall when he was chasing Firefly the other day. Broken leg, concussion, and some internal bleeding. He’s fine now though, just has to recover. Alfred needed to stay home to make sure he actually rests.” Dick patted your hand. “Don’t worry, kiddo.”

You felt tears burn in your eyes, but you blinked them away. Dick’s hand squeezed yours. “Why can’t you guys tell me these things?” 

“We didn’t want to worry you during finals.” Dick leaned over to kiss your temple. “Bruce asked us not to.”

“Jerk.” You crossed your arms. Keeping your gaze forward, you thought about Jon and felt the weight of the necklace around your neck. You suddenly felt better. “Well, I guess I appreciate that.” 

“I did disagree with him, but he didn’t listen.” Dick pulled into traffic. His hand stayed on yours. “How was school?” He grinned, switching subjects. “I heard you changed your major.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, I finally decided to do it.” You sighed. “School is fun. The people are nice.” 

Dick hummed, glancing at you as he got onto the freeway. “I’m glad you’re doing what makes you happy.” He squeezed your hand. “Now tell me everything.”

You began to tell Dick things, but avoided mentioning Jon. He was your secret for now. The last thing you wanted was your family to find out about him. 

***

Jon floated above the city, depressed. He laid out on his back, looking up at the sky with his cape floating below him. His fingers itched to grab his phone to text you, but he stopped himself. “Give her a chance to get home,” he mumbled to himself. “Don’t want to be clingy.”

He heard an burglary alarm in the south side. Flipping around, he zoomed to that end of town and flew right into the jewelry store to grab both robbers and bring them outside. Then he grabbed some chains from the back of a nearby pickup and tied them to the light post. Both robbers blinked in confusion before swearing at him. Jon just smiled at them and flew away. 

He did several more good deeds before sitting on top of the Daily Planet. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sound of your heartbeat. Your heartbeat was unique. He remembered when he first heard it in class with you. Then he was lucky enough to actually meet you. 

“Jonathan Kent, what are you doing?” Lois Lane said, coming out of the Planet’s roof door. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying for your last final?” She pulled her jacket tighter around her. Jon got to his feet, blushing. 

“I wanted to take a break.” He smiled sheepishly. It’s not like Lois knew what he was doing. He made sure to keep you his secret. The last thing he needed was the famous Lois Lane and Clark Kent to scare you off. 

Lois hummed, narrowing her eyes at her son. “Right.” She reached to adjust the cape on his shoulders. “Well, Damian stopped by and told us we’re invited to the Manor for Christmas. With his injuries, the family wanted more people around to keep Bruce occupied.”

“Oh yeah, he told me about that when we met up the other night,” Jon said, remembering Damian mentioning that before he told him off for only giving you bath bombs. Lois narrowed her eyes. “It wasn’t long. There was just a concern with Kid Amazo or I guess Man Amazo now?” He chuckled. 

“Well as long as you pass your finals.” Lois crossed her arms, smiling at her son. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You missed all our family dinners.” 

Jon blushed and glanced over his shoulder. He spent those days with you. “Sorry, Mom. I’ll be there this week.”

“Of course.” She reached up to brush a strand of hair off his forehead. “Now you better go study before the world explodes again or something.” 

“Yes, Mom.” Jon kissed her cheek. He floated up into the air. “Tell Dad I said hi and that I’ll see him at dinner this week.” 

“Tell him yourself.” Lois waved as Jon flew off into the city. He headed back to Metropolis U, wishing you were there to study with him. Maybe he could text you now? You had to be home by now, right?

***

“Wow, Dad. You’re in bed. I thought you never used it,” you teased, stepping into his bedroom with a big smile of relief. Dick said he was okay, but you couldn’t relax until you saw him with your own eyes. 

Bruce grunted, setting his paper down. He was sat up against the pillows with his cast covered leg propped up. “Har, har.” A hint of a smile pulled on his lips as you came over to him and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad.” You kissed his cheek and took his hand. It was rougher than it used to be. More nicks and calluses. 

“How was school?” He squeezed your hand, studying you with that vigilant gaze you used to hate when you were younger. Now you enjoyed it. It was the way he showed he cared. However, his eyes lingered on your necklace and suddenly you changed your mind about that. 

“Good. Aced all my classes and changed my major officially. I’ll go for classics with a minor in linguistics instead.” You shrugged your shoulders as you reached up to hide the necklace in your shirt. 

Bruce hummed. “Good, I want you to do what you want.” He squeezed your hand again before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. “I’m proud of you.” 

Your heart warmed. “Thanks Dad.” You eyed his cast. “How long will you be out?” 

“Six weeks.” He frowned. “But the boys and Cass have it covered. No need to worry.” He rubbed your shoulder. “Now do you have that paper you wanted me to read?”

You smirked, pulling it up on your phone. “Yeah, I do. Aced it, and it sealed my internship with the Metropolis Library Archives too.” You handed him your phone. Bruce started reading, snorting at the title. All you did was pray Jon didn’t text you while Bruce was looking at your phone.

***

Days later, Jon was laying on his bed in his parents’ apartment. His phone was in his hands. You were about to call him. It took a while to schedule a time. You said your family was nosy. Then again, so was Jon’s, but luckily Clark just left for the watchtower. Out of range. 

Your ringtone echoed in his room. He grinned, answering it. “Hey beautiful,” he whispered when he heard his mother turn on the shower. He relaxed, knowing he was in the clear.

“Hey yourself, handsome.” You laughed. Jon’s heart ached at the sound of your voice. “How are you?” 

“Good. Just finished family dinner. Now I’m in my room.” Jon stretched his legs, eyeing the old Overwatch poster on his wall. “At my parents’ place.”

“I figured.” You sighed. He heard you moving around on your end. “Well, home has been interesting for me.” 

“Really, why?” Jon put an arm behind his head. 

“My family is a little crazy.” A dog barked in the background. “Okay, Titus. Come on in.” A door opened and closed. “Sorry, my dog wants to be in my room with me. He gets attached.” 

Jon smirked. “Titus huh? Can I see him?” 

“Maybe when we zoom call tomorrow? I’m not presentable.” You coughed. “I have to go with my brother to a party and I’m getting dressed.” 

“Ooo,” Jon bit his lip, daring to ask the question. “Can you send me a picture of what you’re wearing?”

You hummed. He heard you brushing your hair. “I can, it’s a nicer party. My dad can’t go, so I didn’t want my brother to go alone.” You laughed. “You can’t make fun of what I’m wearing though.” 

“Never.” Jon imagined what you could be wearing. He had to shake his head to stop the dirty thoughts. “Whatever you wear is beautiful.” 

You laughed again. Jon couldn’t get enough of the sound. “You charmer.” You sighed softly. “Promise you won’t laugh or make a joke?”

“I promise with all my heart.” Jon pulled the phone away from his ear when it buzzed with a text from you. His breath caught in his throat. You were drop dead gorgeous. Jon’s mouth went dry. He coughed hard. “Woah, babe. You’re stunning.” 

“Thanks.” Your voice sounded faint “At least you won’t have to worry. My brother will keep people away from me.” 

“Thank goodness.” Jon sighed in relief, zooming in on the photo to look at your face. You were blushing. “I was worried I’d have competition.” 

“Like any of them would stand a chance.” You blew a kiss into the phone when a voice echoed in the background. Jon swore he heard a familiar ‘TT’ in the background. He shook his head, must be imagining things. You didn’t have anything to do with Damian Wayne. “I got to go. Let’s zoom call tonight, okay?” 

“Okay.” Jon grinned as he saw you were wearing his necklace too. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You hung up the phone quickly just as another voice spoke up. Jon set his phone down and relaxed. He eventually fell asleep, dreaming of you in that beautiful outfit. 

***

“TT, what is with the necklace?” Damian demanded as he handed you a drink. The two of you were at the Wayne Foundation Christmas Fundraiser. Since Bruce was out, you and Damian were forced to attend in his absence. 

“What?” You blinked, taking the drink before glancing down at Jon’s necklace. It matched your outfit. You hoped he wouldn’t notice anything about it. 

“The star?” Damian nodded toward it as he sipped his drink. “It’s cheap.”

You wrinkled your nose, grabbing your necklace in your fist. “It’s not cheap. I happen to like it.” You let go of the necklace and flicked his nose. Damian narrowed his eyes dangerously at you. “Knock it off.” 

A few businessmen approached. You and Damian dropped your conversation. Damian mumbled under his breath, but you talking over him. Soon the men moved on, leaving you and Damian alone again. 

“You smile more than you used to.” Damian crossed his arms, rolling his shoulders in his nice Armani tux. “It’s disturbing.” He took a drink of the champagne, wrinkling his nose at the taste. 

“Just because you rarely smile doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.” You rolled your eyes, watching the people start to dance not so far away. It was only a matter of time before someone came over to ask for a dance. “I’m enjoying school, Damian. Nothing else.”

Damian hummed. He tensed when he saw Bambi King striding over with her eyes on Damian as if he was a delicious piece of steak. You smirked at him, panic brightening his eyes. “Dance with me now.” He grabbed your hand and dropped his drink on a waiter’s tray. 

“Okay, okay.” You laughed, stumbling after him. “You don’t want to be devoured tonight, huh?”

Damian spun you in his arms and started to waltz. “Stop it or I’ll call Zeke what’shisname over.” 

You just laughed, dancing with your brother. “How about two more dances and we ditch this place?”

“Excellent.” He spun you around and brought you back to him. “We showed our faces.”

“Alfred will just be happy we stayed this long.” You winked at Damian, catching the sparkle in his eye. He was enjoying himself, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

***

You walked into the kitchen in your pajamas, yawning and giving everyone a lazy wave. It was Christmas Eve morning and the entire family was home. Most were already eating at the table. You stopped to kiss Alfred’s cheek as he flipped pancakes on the stove. “Thanks for breakfast, Alfred.”

“You’re welcome, Miss (Y/N).” Alfred nodded for you to go eat. You went to Bruce next and maneuvered around his elevated foot to kiss his cheek too. 

Bruce hummed, watching you as you took your seat next to Tim and across from Damian. Tim eyed you carefully. “What?” You asked Tim after he didn’t look away.

“You are the last to breakfast.” Tim looked around the table before looking back at you. Dick, Barbara, and Cass were chatting among themselves at the other end of the table, but Jason and Damian had their full attention on you. Bruce just went back to his paper, but you knew he was listening. 

You shrugged, helping yourself to pancakes and eggs. “I was up late.”

“Talking to someone,” Jason mumbled, smirking when you glared at him. “I heard you giggling when I came in last night.” You and Jon finally got to zoom call each other. It left you giddy, missing him so bad that it hurt.

“I was talking to one of my friends from school.” You kept your head down, knowing you were blushing. “I didn’t know that was a crime.”

Damian snorted. “Is that the person who gave you that cheap necklace?” 

Your hand shielded the necklace as if to protect it from his words. “Why are you so obsessed with my necklace? I bought it myself if you must know.” You took a bite of your pancake, suddenly losing your appetite. It was like you were reliving your high school years where your brothers tried to involve themselves in your social life. 

“Boys, leave (Y/N) alone,” Bruce said, folding up the paper to take a sip of his coffee. “Your sister is an adult and can talk to whoever she wants.”

“Thank you, Dad.” You smiled smugly at your brothers. Jon was still your secret, but you vowed to be more careful. Last thing you need was your brothers tracking down Jon to give him the ‘shovel talk’.

Tim hummed, poking at his food. “How did that Star Trek class go?” he asked after a moment. You laughed and easily fell into a conversation about the class. 

“Hey Bruce,” Dick said as he got up to get another pitcher of orange juice from Alfred. “Are the Kents coming to Christmas dinner?”

You almost choked on your pancake. Kents? “Yes, they are coming,” Bruce said as he poured more coffee into his cup. 

“TT, at least it will be somewhat enjoyable with Jon here.” Damian narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Even if we have to tolerate the clone.” Tim glared back at him, but didn’t reply. 

Meanwhile, you forced yourself to swallow your food. Your brain rushed at hundred miles per hour. Kents? Jon? Jon Kent? Could there be that many Kents? That many Jon Kents? The blood drained out of your face. You quickly took a sip of your drink to hide it, but Bruce noticed, frowning slightly as he watched you.

“The Kents are always well mannered. Perhaps some of it can rub off,” Alfred said pointedly as he added another plate of pancakes to the table. 

“We’re not that bad, Al.” Dick chuckled. Jason was looking at you too, eyebrow raised in concern. 

“Maybe Cass, (Y/N), and I aren’t, but you boys...” Barbara said, rolling her eyes.

You finished your glass and carefully set it down. Your hand was shaking so bad that it clattered against your plate. “(Y/N), are you alright?” Bruce whispered as Damian and Tim started arguing.

You licked your lips. “Are the Kents from Metropolis?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows. A hint of a smirk pulled at his lips. “They’re the Supers, sweetheart. Superman, Superboys, Lois Lane.”

“Superboys? Like more than one?” Your eyes widened. Suddenly flashes of Jon quickly leaving you with excuses of bathroom runs only to come back completely disheveled. How sometimes he seemed to almost float. The look on his face when you joked he must be an alien for being in the Star Trek class. You could be wrong, hoped you were.

Bruce chuckled softly. “Yes, Conner was the first and still is full time, Jon is the second, part time due to college.” Bruce took a sip of his coffee. His eyes studied you as the world’s greatest detective only could. “Jon goes to your school.”

Your stomach dropped to your feet. “Oh no.” You pressed your hand over your mouth and jumped out of your chair. The chair clattered to the ground as you ran out of the room to the nearest bathroom. 

Slamming the door behind you and locking it, you slid down to the floor. Your chest tightened. 

“How the fuck did I happen to meet Superboy and fall in love with him? Oh my god, I’m going to die. Jon’s going to die.” You pulled your knees into your chest. “How could I be so dumb? Why didn’t I pay more attention to other heroes?”

You touched your necklace, clutching the star so tightly that it embedded into your palm. 

A soft knock on the door made you flinch. “(Y/N), are you okay?” Cass asked softly. You reached up to open the door and motioned for Cass to come inside. She slipped in and quickly closed the door behind her. 

“Cass, I’m screwed,” you whispered softly, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the floor with you. You tensed when you heard the boys outside, loudly eavesdropping.

She blinked in confusion. Cass clicked her tongue, settling down beside you. “Why? You’re not pregnant.” 

“Of course you would know that.” You groaned and rested your forehead on your knees. “Damn it. I was so happy, but now I’m screwed because I’m so stupid and I didn’t even realize who he was.”

Cass hummed. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “You are dating someone?” You sighed, nodding your head. It was nice she could read you so well. You didn’t have to say anything. “The family won’t approve?”

“No.” You swallowed hard. A lump hard in your throat. “And they are going to find out so much sooner than I wanted.”

You watched her frown in thought before her eyes lit up. “Oh no.”

“Yes.” Tears filled your eyes. “It’s going to be so bad.” A sob slipped out of you. You pressed your hand against your mouth to silence it. 

Cass rubbed your back, kissing your temple. “We will get through this, but first you have to call Jon. He needs to know that you know and if he doesn’t know about you, then you need to tell him.”

“But then what? He’s going to be here tomorrow. I don’t know if I can act like I don’t know him.” You bit your lip hard to stop another sob. 

“No, but we can get allies.” Cass smirked. You looked at her confused, but she just hummed and pulled you into a tight hug. “Trust me.”

***

The kids at the children’s hospital laughed and waved as both Jon and Clark flew away. Jon had a permanent smile on his face. This was one of his favorite part of the holidays, being able to visit hospitals and children’s homes on Christmas Eve. It made their Christmas. His heart felt warm.

“Having a good time, son?” Clark asked once Jon and him were far above the city.

“Yeah, I love doing this sort of thing.” Jon wished you were here. He knew you would love this as much as he did. Closing his eyes, he listened for your heartbeat. It was still in Gotham and faster than normal.

“What’s wrong?” Clark asked, tilting his head to listen too. 

Jon swallowed hard, opening his eyes. “Nothing.” Maybe you were working out? Or just having some fun? He shouldn’t be worried. 

Clark hummed, studying Jon. “We should head home. Your mother probably has some cookies made already.”

Jon licked his lips. “Can’t wait.” Clark flew toward home, but Jon stopped when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, almost dropping it when he saw it was you. Clark paused, watching Jon curiously. Jon smiled sheepishly before putting the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hi.” You sounded off. Jon’s stomach dropped slightly. “I don’t know how to say this.” 

“Babe, are you breaking up with me?” Jon chuckled humorlessly. Clark flew a little closer, pretending that he wasn’t eavesdropping. Jon couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

“No, but it might be easier,” you muttered almost under your breath. That was like a knife in Jon’s heart. He felt so confused. “Jon, do you know who I am?”

Jon blinked, flinching slightly. Clark tensed at the sight. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N), what’s going on?” Jon said. Clark’s eyes widened at the sound of your name. Jon frowned at Clark, wondering if Clark knew your name for some reason. Could have been from the internship you scored? Would Clark know about that?

You sighed. Jon heard someone talk to you. “Yeah, he doesn’t have a clue either. I’m not the only dumb one,” you said to them, voice fainter as if you covered the speaker of your phone. Jon clenched his hand around his phone. It took all he had not to just fly to you and demand answers. “Jon, do you really not know who my family is? Like at all?” you asked him again. 

“Your family doesn’t matter to me. I love you, damn it,” Jon snapped, blushing when his father face palmed. Why did he feel like he was missing something?

Something almost like a sob came from you. Jon tensed at the sound. “Jonathan Kent, my father is Bruce Wayne.” 

Time stopped. The blood drained out of Jon’s face. His phone slipped out of his hand. “Oh my god.”

The next thing Jon knew, he was sitting on a rooftop with his father talking to you on the phone. Jon tried to wet his mouth, pushing aside all the images of Damian and Bruce murdering him for dating their (Y/N). Damian mentioned you once or twice, but Jon never met you or even seen a photo of you before.

Jon watched his father blankly. He felt numb. How could he have been so dumb? All the signs were there. You even looked a bit like Damian when he thought about it. 

“I’m on board with your plan and I’ll update Jon once he recovers from the shock.” Clark chuckled, watching Jon with a teasing expression. “And it’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/N). Your father always spoke highly of you.”

Jon stumbled to his feet, reaching for the phone. Clark shook his head before hanging up the phone. “Jon, my sweet boy.” Clark pulled Jon into a hug. “I love you so much, but you get into so much trouble.”

“Are you saying that because I’m going to die tomorrow?” Jon mumbled, resting his chin on Clark’s shoulder. “I really love her, Dad.”

“I know.” Clark pulled back to look him in the eye. “We got a plan. You’re not going to start World War Three when Damian and Bruce whip out the kryptonite. (Y/N) is just as smart as her father bragged all these years.”

“Of course, she’s smart. She’s amazing.”  Jon grinned, thinking about you. “I can’t believe I was so dumb. I should have known.”

Clark chuckled, ruffling Jon’s hair. Jon groaned at the touch. “To be fair, I don’t think (Y/N) knew about you either.”

Jon sighed, taking his phone back and shoving it in his pocket. “So, do I get to know more about this plan?”

“We can discuss it when we get home.” Clark floated up into the sky. “I can’t wait to tell your mother.” He flew toward home.

“Hey!” Jon flew after him, but Clark just flew faster. “That’s not nice! At least let me tell her! Dad!” 

***

Later that day, you and Cass slowly recruited Barbara and Steph. Barbara was on board with little convincing, giving you a big hug. Steph on the other hand...luckily she was spending Christmas Eve with her mom.

“You’re dating Superboy?! Oh my god, oh my god. Damian’s going to freak! Can I be there when he finds out? Oh, please, please, please,” Steph shouted through the phone. You, Cass, and Barbara were in your bedroom, strategizing. 

“I mean you’ll be here tomorrow since your mom is working Christmas Day, so you’ll witness,” you said dully. Your heart pounded like a sledgehammer just thinking about it. Even with allies, you weren’t sure how it would go. You kept seeing Jon’s death, Damian losing his only friend all because of you. 

Cass clicked her tongue. She held her hand out for the phone. You handed it over before covering your face with your hands. Cass talked quietly with Steph. Barbara rubbed your back, giving you a sympathetic smile. 

“It’s okay.” Barbara whispered in your ear. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“How do you know that?” You looked up at her, tears burning your eyes. 

Barbara smiled. “When they see how happy you and Jon are, they’ll have to accept it. Damian loves you both. He wants you to both be happy. Bruce wants you to be happy.”

You groaned, flopping down on the bed. “I don’t know.” You grabbed your pillow and pressed your face into it. Barbara patted your knee. You always had a close relationship with her. She was the one who told you about the internship at the Metropolis Library Archives and the first one you told about getting it.

“You do know. Now stop moping, we got a plan to form.” Barbara pulled the pillow from your face. Cass hung up the phone and set it on your bedside table. “We need to get some of the boys in on this.” Barbara crossed her arms. 

Cass clicked her tongue again before leaving the room suddenly. You and Barbara shared a look. “I don’t know. The boys never keep things quiet,” you said after a moment. 

“True, but the more allies the better in this case.” Barbara smiled. “We’ll have to bring in Alfred for sure.” 

“I’ll tell him later. Alone.” You blushed. Alfred might have been your confidant when you were younger, but the idea of telling him about Jon...it made you wince. Alfred wouldn’t judge you though. 

Cass reentered the room with Jason and Tim behind her. Tim looked confused, sipping a cup of coffee while Jason seemed slightly concerned at the sight of you. You realized you still looked like a mess from all the tears you shed earlier. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Tim asked sharply. Cass closed and locked the door behind them. Jason sat next to you on the bed, eyeing you carefully.

“We need you to be understanding and willing to support (Y/N),” Barbara said, glaring at Tim then Jason. “No matter what.”

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.” Tim ran a hand through his hair. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere near the manor when you tell Bruce.”

“I’m not pregnant. Why does everyone think that?” You blushed, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. 

Jason cleared his throat. “Well, that’s the running theory downstairs.”

Barbara rolled her eyes. “You’re all idiots.”

Cass held up a hand, silencing the room. “(Y/N), tell them.”

You hugged the pillow to your chest. Your blood turned to ice. If you felt this bad telling Tim and Jason, how was it going to be with Damian and Bruce. 

“We won’t judge you, (Y/N). We’re worried about you,” Jason said, putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing gently.

“Honest. We’re here for you, even if you’re being a little overemotional,” Tim added, sipping his coffee. Cass punched his arm. Tim yelped in response.

You took a deep breath. “I’m dating Jon Kent.”

Silence followed. You glanced between Jason and Tim. Both were froze, eyes wide. Barbara smirked at the sight while Cass just rolled her eyes.

Finally, a chuckle escaped from Jason before spilling into full out laughter. He rolled off the bed, holding his stomach as if it would burst from the laughter alone. Tim slowly blinked and downed the rest of his coffee in one go.

“It’s not funny.” You nudged Jason’s side with your toe. 

“But it is.” Jason choked, still laughing. Barbara sighed, reaching down to pinch Jason’s ear. He yowled in pain as she drag him up and onto the bed. “Ouch, okay. Not funny.”

“How? Why?” Tim asked, setting his cup down before sitting on the other side of you. 

“I didn’t know it was him. We met at school, and fell in love.” You touched your necklace. Both of your brothers watching the movement. “It wasn’t until this morning when you all mentioned Superboy was Jon Kent that it hit me.”

Jason chuckled, holding up his hands when Barbara threatened his ear again. “So Bruce and Damian don’t know yet?”

“No, but we need you with us and to go with our plan.” Cass straightened, glaring at Tim and Jason. “For (Y/N).”

Tim sighed. “I’m always on your side...but I get to bring Kon in on this.” He smirked, nudging your side. 

“Kon already knows. We already informed Clark and Lois. They promised to tell him,” you said, smiling at Tim’s surprise. You turned to Jason. “Jay?”

Jason rolled his shoulders. “Well, I guess I can help, but I reserve the right to give Jon the shovel talk.”

You groaned while the others laughed. “Please no.” 

“Nope, I got to hold over my big brother rights.” Jason held up his hands. “Right, Tim?”

Tim shrugged. “I don’t care as much, but sure.”

You laid back on your bed, slapping a hand over your eyes as everyone laughed. It felt better, knowing that if you got through telling Jason and Tim, the rest will be not as challenging. At least you hoped.

***

When Jon landed outside of Wayne Manor on Christmas Day, he closed his eyes and found your heartbeat. Your heart was music to his ears. He grinned, running a hand through his messy hair to get it back to normal.

“He’s love sick already,” Kon chuckled, bumping Jon in the back as he jogged ahead to knock on the front door. Jon glared at him. 

“You’re not going to fool anyone for long,” Lois said, reaching up to fix Jon’s hair again. Jon groaned, gently pushing Lois’ hands away. 

“I’m not that bad, Mom.” Jon crossed his arms as the front door opened to reveal Damian Wayne himself. 

“TT, Kents.” He stepped aside let them in. “Father is in the den.”

“Thank you, Damian.” Clark and Lois headed toward the den, knowing the way. Kon was jogging up the stairs. Jon stayed next to Damian. 

Damian eyed Jon carefully. Jon swallowed hard, biting his lip. “So how are things?” Jon asked. Damian raised an eyebrow in response. Jon blushed. Lois was right, Jon wasn’t going to keep it a secret for long. He listened for you again. You were in the kitchen. It sounded like you were peeling potatoes.

“Good.” Damian stalked toward the den. Titus ran out of the kitchen, tongue wagging, tail thumbing as he jumped on Jon. Jon laughed, petting him. Damian pursed his lips. “Titus, down.”

Titus obeyed. “It’s okay. He’s a good boy.” Jon laughed when he heard your laugh from the kitchen. Everything in him wanted to go see you, but it would ruin the plan. 

Damian hummed and stalked off toward the den. Jon followed with Titus beside him. Bruce was in his armchair, his cast resting on a stool. The Kents were on the couch. The conversation was light. Bruce was even smiling slightly. Jon let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad?

“TT, Father, are you comfortable?” Damian went to Bruce and stood beside him. He folded his arms, glaring slightly. Jon blinked. Maybe Damian knew something was up? He swallowed hard and took a seat next to Clark. Jon’s stomach flip flopped. He felt like a bomb was ticking down in the room and he had to sit and wait for it.

After a few minutes of just the parents talking, Steph, Cass, Tim, Kon, and Jason walked into the room all together. They were all smiling oddly. Steph gave Jon a big wink. Jon flinched and blushed when he saw Damian’s frown at the sight. 

“Hey Mr. Lane,” Steph teased, taking a seat on the floor by the Christmas tree. “Mrs. Lane.”

Clark just hummed. Lois kissed his cheek. Cass joined Steph by the tree. Tim, Kon, and Jason sat on the other couch. Jason put his feet up and smirked over at Jon. Jon narrowed his eyes. He hoped they wouldn’t give it away. Damian was watching his siblings with suspicion already.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Alfred said. He stepped into the room with a tray of appetizers, coffee, and hot chocolate. Clark got up to help. 

“Aww, you must be (Y/N),” Lois said suddenly. Jon jumped to his feet, spun to find you behind Alfred with another tray. His heart fluttered as you smiled. You were wearing a red sweater that looked amazing on you. 

He shot forward to take the tray from you. “Let me help.” 

“Thank you.” Your eyes sparkled. Jon lost himself in them until someone cleared their throat. Your eyes widened along with Jon’s as you both turned to look at the rest of the family. Damian and Bruce were frowning while everyone else just smiled knowingly. 

“We’re dead,” you said under your breath, biting your lip as Damian tensed. Jon saw Damian connecting the dots. 

“Trust in the plan,” Jon whispered back. He walked over to set the tray on the coffee table. 

You stayed by the door. Jon took his seat again. Lois patted his knee and leaned closer. “You blew it, sweetheart,” she whispered. Jon swallowed hard.

Dick came in with a third tray with Barbara right behind him. He stopped when he saw you huddled by the door, Damian and Bruce’s stony expressions and everyone else’s knowing looks. “What’s going on?” Dick asked. Barbara hushed him.

Damian looked from Jon to you several times. Jon kept his eyes on you. He hated the scared look in your eye. Slowly, Jon stood back up. The room went silent as Jon walked back to you. 

“Let’s just do it. He’s going to figure it out in a sec anyway.” Jon took your hand. Your lips trembled, squeezing his hand like he was your lifeline. He kissed the back of your hand. He heard a few ‘aww’s and ‘ooo’s behind him.

“No...my sister?!” Damian snapped. Jon stepped slightly in front of you to take the hit of a hot coffee cup against his chest. It shattered. Jon felt the heat from the coffee soaking into his clothes. “You mean all this time?! That harlot you were talking about constantly was my sister?!”

Jon bit his lip. “Well, yeah, but to be fair, I didn’t know she was your sister.” He held up his hands as Damian grabbed another cup. Alfred clicked his tongue and took the cup from Damian’s grasp. The others were watching like it was the finale of their favorite series. Your entire body shook, pressing yourself against Jon’s back. 

“How didn’t you know?! Her name is (Y/N)?! You have seen her pictures?!” Damian stomped toward Jon. Luckily, Clark stepped into his path.

“Calm down, Damian. I can vouch that neither of them knew who each other were until yesterday,” Clark said, putting his hands on Damian’s shoulders.

“You’ve seen pictures of me?” you said to Jon, peeking over his shoulder. 

“I must have.” He bit his lip, racking his brain. Maybe? Then again, you were probably too beautiful in person that a photo wouldn’t have done you justice. He looked at Bruce. Bruce’s expression hadn’t changed. 

“Damian, I love her,” Jon said when Damian jerked away from Clark. Jon’s eyes flickered to Bruce. “Like a lot.”

You stepped out from behind Jon. “And I love him.” Slowly you walked past Damian and went to Bruce’s side. “You’re not mad, are you, Dad?”

Bruce looked at you. Jon swore he saw Bruce’s lips twitch. A lump formed in Jon’s throat. “Damian, relax. I understand this is a shock, but keep your head,” Bruce said, focusing on Damian before turning back to you. “As long as you’re happy and he treats you well, I will be fine.”

Damian crossed his arms, huffing before storming out of the room with Titus behind him. Jon watched him go and sighed. He knew Damian would need to cool off before he could patch things up. 

“Wait a minute? Did everyone know, but me?” Dick asked the room after he saw no one else was startled by the news.

“Sorry, Dickhead, but you can’t keep a secret,” Jason said, laughing when Dick pressed his hand against his heart like he had been shot. The tension eased in the room, everyone laughing and teasing. Everyone began to drink and eat. Alfred slipped out of the room and came back with a broom and dustpan to clean the glass on the floor.

Jon knelt down to hold the dustpan for him. “Thank you, Mr. Kent,” Alfred said. 

You appeared at Jon’s side. “We should change your shirt. It’s going to stain,” you said. Jon looked down. He grinned, having forgotten about it. 

“Probably.” He let you take his hand. Alfred raised an eyebrow as you both slipped out of the room. “You know this probably isn’t a good idea for us to go off by ourselves.”

“We’ll be fine.” You smirked at him, leading him upstairs and toward a bedroom he had never really noticed before. It was across from Damian’s. Jon felt so dumb. There was a sign with your name on the door. How could he not have noticed?

Your room was clean and was very much you. Jon hummed, stopping to look at the photos on your wall. Most were of the family, but there were a few with people he didn’t know. He wondered if you had a photo of him to put up now that the secret was out.

“Here.” You came from your closet with a shirt. “This is one of Dick’s old shirts that he gave me. I usually sleep in it, but...well, it’s clean.” You handed him the shirt. A slight blush came to your cheeks. “I’ll put your shirt to soak in my sink. We should be able to get the stain out if we act now.”

Jon took off his shirt, smirking when he caught you staring. “Thank, babe.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I missed you.” You stepped forward and placed a kiss on his lips. Jon melted, drinking in your scent, the softness of your lips against his. Your hands rested on his chest. The warmth of your hands made him shiver.

“I missed you too.” Jon smiled, pulling away when he heard several heavy footsteps on the stairs. He heard them stop by Damian’s room to collect him. “I think your brothers are coming to give me the shovel talk.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you took his soiled shirt. He slipped on the clean shirt, loving that it smelled like the laundry detergent you always used. “I can’t stop them. I promised Jason and Tim that they could if we had their support.”

Jon bit his lip, listening to some chuckles from your brothers. “I’ll see you at dinner. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not.” You kissed his lips again just as your brothers knocked on your door. “They know I love you, so they wouldn’t kill you.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” Jon hugged you tight before letting you go. You sighed and opened your door. Jason looked gleeful, Tim seemed bored, Dick was worried, while Damian had a particular devious look about him. “So, I know you want to talk to me,” Jon said, sending you a wink. You frowned slightly. “But you’ll have to catch me first.” Jon ran toward your window, opening it smoothly and flying out. 

Over the shouts of your brothers, Jon heard you laughing. It was best sound he had ever heard and one he wanted to hear for all the Christmases to come.

[syndrossi]

i wonder if Reverberate!Daemon considers how similar his allard-raised children were compared to his and Rhea’s boys raised by them from the beginning.

bc he feels guilt over them never having a proper childhood but then here’s Jon still waking up Rhaegar in the morning for an hour of sword lessons and an hour before bed.

there’s Rhaegar meticulously keeping tabs on dragons and Targaryen lore, reading well into the night and charming his way into doing it more often

like, does he finally consider, “huh, maybe they’re just built like that”

does he ever think “huh, maybe i owe allard an apolo— PFFFF HAAHAHAHAHA”

he continues to laugh for the next eight minutes.

Don't be silly, Jon's love of training is clearly a product of his excellent upbringing and superior work ethic, of course! Rhaegar's passion for reading and dragons is only to be expected for an exceptional Targaryen child, which clearly his sons both are. That's genetics, baby!

(Really, the big difference is that these boys do play, and laugh, and do silly things. They demand hugs and cuddles and always wake him if they can't sleep. And perhaps sometimes they do stare into the distance with a strange sorrow, but it passes soon enough.)

[lavalais76]

I found this on Reddit, and thought it to be an excellent read. I’m quiet sure most of you won’t believe some of the things said here, but it really has one thinking….

WoW RyanBarns13,

I think it's been a really thorough discussion. I just wondered where do you get your ideas from?

RyanBarnes13

OP•2yrs ago

Rhaegar and Lyanna never fit Jon’s story of Winterfell and being a Stark. And Ned and Ashara never fit cause he could just tell everyone. Honestly it’s from the The welcoming feast. When Jon said Sansa was “radiant”. Who says that about his sister? And they never had a parting scene from winterfell, but the more you dig into the more you realize they are the story of the North. And the 1993 letter or whenever it was had Arya Jon Tyrion love triangle. But every link and foreshadowing points to Sansa. Then Martin hides clues behind words. But the only combo that would work for that is Rhaegar or another Stark. Ned can’t be the father. Here’s two, Tyrion described Septa Lemore as handsome.... sounds like she is ok looking. We use it to describe men only nowadays. But look for synonyms for handsome describing a woman and it’s the opposite of what we think. Here’s some,

Handsome synonyms for women aesthetic (also esthetic), attractive, beauteous, beautiful, bonny (also bonnie) [chiefly British], comely, cute, drop-dead, fair, fetching, good, good-looking, goodly, gorgeous, knockout, likely, lovely, lovesome, pretty, ravishing, seemly, sightly, stunning, taking, well-favored.

The two main women described as like that is Ashara and Cercei from the Roberts rebellion. So why hide the eye color from us? Who else has purple eyes? Not much of anyone. But he gives us every clue but the eyes.

The other one is honey colored hair. That is one of the biggest tricks in the books. It’s whenever you see those words you should think like admiral ackbar. “It’s a trap”, basically honey ranges from blonde color to reddish brown. The bear and the maiden fair? You would think dany and Jorah. He is a Mormont bear, she is the maiden fair with honey in her hair. But it’s actually Jon with the bear symbols.

He is adopted by Mormont through the giving of Longclaw, basically replacing Jorah as his son, he is being trained as the old bears heir as lord commander, the white bear skins in numerous chapters of Jon’s. Who is his maiden fair with honey in her hair? The one maiden with reddish-brown hair who keeps calling for a knight to save her, but she gets a bear. It’s played over and over in her scenes. Sansa. Many people hate realizing hearing it, but Jon’s story is built around Sansa and her his.

The proof where Jon flat out says he loves her. Most people have missed it, but Arya is little sister since the very first of the book. Sister always means Sansa. Martin never deviates from that. And he hides the truth many a time by getting people to read about Jon’s sister and thinking Arya instead of Sansa. But go reread the first few chapters, it’s always sister, little sister. Now the proof,

Do not despair Lord Snow […] Your sister is not lost to you.”

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

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

“Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly…”

“… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.” -Jon, A Dance with Dragons

She is talking about Arya, he is thinking Sansa and his heart, his SISTER. Then she is amused as she realizes, what’s the LITTLE SISTERS name? Oh shit Jon thinks silently, Arya. Oops of course Jon.

What I am getting to with all this is Jon’s story is the north. Winterfell is his end game. It’s what he dreams about. You can only make the story work if you accept the character arcs as written. He is not the PTWP, or all that. He is Lord of Winterfell, King of Winter. Everyone wants him to be king of 7 kingdoms, ride dragons, that’s Aegons, Danys, stories. His queen is set up to Sansa. Most people reject that, but go back and read just their chapters, they parallel in trials, dreams, everything. End game is winterfell and kids named Robb, Bran, Arya, Rickon. Dany is the Rhaenys character, Aegon is Aegon character, Val is the Visenya character, but with a spear instead of a sword.

Martin used fairy tails in the story, Beauty and the Beast, the pig boy. Sandor, Tyrion false Beasts. Jon is the beast. If you notice his wounds correlate to Sansa’s suitors. Sandor is burned, Jon is burned. Willas Tyrell (think I remember his name right) is lame in one leg, Jon gets shot by arrows and limps, tyrion and Sandor get scarred faces, Jon’s whole side of his face is scarred by the eagle.

The pig boy gets the princess stories, Jon is the pig keeper. Sam is the piggy, Ser Piggy even, Dolorious Edd tells Sam he’s thinking of roasting Sam. The prologue of one of the books has a Nights Watch character trying to escape but is thwarted by snow and Jon and his pig taking his spot with maester Aemon.

As for putting it all together, look at the Middle Ages. It’s all there. But everyone forgets it’s written from a certain point of view. Obiwan kenobi, talking to Luke about Vader killing his dad, everything I told you was true. From a certain point of view. All the stories of Jon’s mother are true, when you look at it from the characters points of view, Wylla, Ashara, fisherman’s daughter, you just have to fit them into the slots.

Sorry I’m rambling

[thebeesareback]

The big Robert Baratheon thoughts

There are several characters within the ASOIAF universe who could comfortably be the protagonist of their own book/series, and GRRM has spoken about how, when writing a character, he tries to see all the major events through their eyes and how it would have affected their lives. Dany and Oberyn are good examples of this, and a shorter book/series could comfortably have either one of them as the main character. If a fic writer is looking for any inspiration, I think a lot could be drawn from Dany in Vaes Toloro.

Another of them is a character who almost seems like a false protagonist in GOT: King Robert Baratheon. The people who don't know him think he's amazing, the people who do know him despise him. He has a fleshed-out backstory, character and the power to influence the plot in many different ways. Yet he's killed off quickly, and I think the fan community often overlooks him as a simple drunken idiot. So I'd like to dig a little deeper.

Robert's life can easily be sectioned into three parts: pre-rebellion era, the rebellion era and the post-rebellion era. Most of what we see comes from Ned Stark, and later we have flashbacks from Cersei which show a much darker and thoroughly rotten man.

To start: Robert is the first born son of House Baratheon, a clan with significant power and influence. He's exactly the kind of young man the Westerosi patriarchal "might makes right" system rewards -- the sort of son Randyl Tarly would love to have. He's an excellent fighter, charming, good looking ("muscled like a maiden's fantasy", oh Ned). There's also a kindness there. When he's fostered at the Eeire he sends for a gift of oranges for Jon Arryn, and although the fruit goes bad, he's not upset and instead plays with the other teenagers. It's silly and funny and the most childish we ever see him.

He isn't always lovely, of course. In Stannis' memory, Robert is unpleasant. He mocks Stannis' falcon and, therefore, Stannis himself. However, Stannis is a miserable shit, and this comment comes after they've spent years disliking each other, so there's obvious bias. Robert seemed to be happy to be away from his family, and so some alienation from his brothers does make sense. Robert and Stannis go through the ordeal of watching their parents die, and it's understandable that this would cause issues in their relationship. Perhaps that's why they pushed each other away. Having a walking, whining reminder of that trauma can't have been pleasant, and the desire to pretend that everything is ok and ignore problems gets more persistent as the years go on.

The third thing we hear about from Robert's pre-rebellion era is his relationship with Mya Stone. I'm not totally clear on the timeline, so I don't know if it's 1. parents' death > 2. Mya's birth > 3. the rebellion or if 1 and 2 are the other way around. Either way, Robert seems to adore his daughter. Ned thinks about how frequently they visited her, and how much Robert enjoyed spending time with her. In a kinder story, Robert would have always been close to Mya. Then the rebellion starts.

There are, of course, lots of things which lead to the rebellion. I don't think Tywin was going to put up with the Mad King for much longer, and Rhaegar felt the same way. Then you have the coalition between the Starks, Baratheons, Tullys and Arryns, and at some point Varys and "Young Griff" would have popped up. For Robert, though, things were straightforward: he wanted Lyanna, and Rhaegar took her away. He remarks to Ned that "Seven Kingdoms couldn't fill the whole she left". It's clear that he didn't actually know Lyanna that well, and it could easily be argued that the reason he worshipped her memory was a mix of affection for Ned and a desire to return to a time where he wasn't traumatised.

Obviously, war is traumatic. That's kind of the point of the series. Everyone who fought in Robert's Rebellion is changed in some way and the scars, literal and metaphorical, run deep. Stannis broods over his "rewards". Ned misses his sister, brother and father. Catelyn is aware of the loss of her betrothed, and Lady Dustin crystalises her rage. Jamie is ostracised and bitter. Jon Connington promises more violence. The list goes on. The things Robert sees during the campaign clearly change him, and this brings us back to Mya.

One of the key themes of the series, most prominently in the first book, is the idea that the innocent should not be sacrificed. That's why Ned works so hard to protect Jon and why he resigns his handship when Robert wants to kill Dany. Something happened to Robert during the rebellion, where his hatred of the Targaryens solidifies so much that it becomes the only thing he really wants. Other things, like his love of his daughter or the belief that children should be protected, all go and he's left with Tywin Lannister and the corpses of Rhaenys and Aegon.

Robert doesn't have to make peace with the Lannisters. In fact, lots of people (the Starks, the Dornish and the people of King's Landing) would be much happier if he didn't. Tywin ordered a horrific thing, and Robert rewarded him. For me, this is where Robert becomes the man we meet in Game of Thrones. He's so broken inside that he does nothing, and tries to pretend that he's still the person he was as a teenager.

After the rebellion, Robert goes on to have plenty more children. If he loved Mya and wanted to see her all the time, after the rebellion he forgets her. And she's the lucky one! Robert must know that Cersei has his twins drowned, he ignores Barra and Gendry, and he only acknowledges Edric Storm because he has to. Then there are the kids who are legally "his", even if biologically they're not. I don't think we ever see him interact with Tommen or Myrecella, and his relationship with Joffrey isn't good. Sure, Joffrey is a little shit, but you could argue that it's partially because of Robert's treatment. Stannis thinks, at one point, that Robert might have killed Joffrey because he hit him so hard.

Why does Robert detach? Well, there's the trauma, the general depression, the loneliness, the disconnect between *conceiving* children and *the actual children*. I think, as well, there's the knowledge that, by allowing Tywin to get away with the murder of the Targaryen children, he's set a precedent whereby the same thing could easily happen to his own kids. If someone needed to get rid of Robert -- and there are people who would like him gone -- they would come after Joffrey, Tommen and Myrecella, and perhaps his bastards, too. He can't protect them, and it shames his chivalric ideals, so he disconnects, doesn't care, and drinks excessively. It might be a way of dealing with guilt, or a way he protects himself from losing anyone else. Ultimately, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrecella are doomed; Edric only escaped sacrifice because of Pylos and Davos, and might well get mixed up in a Varys/"Young Griff" scheme; all of the bastards in King's Landing are killed; and if Gendry survives, it's because of plot armour. Nobody cares about Mya, really.

There's plenty to say about the Robert/Cersei match. Firstly, I'd like to mention how much I enjoy the show-only scene where the two discuss their marriage. It's heartbreaking, well written and beautifully acted, and gives some depth which makes the experience richer.

None of the Lannisters like Robert, with the exception of Tyrion. Tyrion likes Robert because Cersei doesn't, but their creepy and destructive bond is a whole other issue. Ned thinks that Robert was a man with "big appetites", and a clear desire to be loved. It probably means he wasn't ever going to be a good husband, which Lyanna points out (in a line which I cannot imagine a 14-year old ever saying, but I digress). Robert loved the thrill of the chase and the first few weeks of a relationship, but wasn't willing to really emotionally attach to anyone. Perhaps it's because, like with his children, he had to keep people away in case he lost them, like Lyanna.

Cersei is her own woman and, to be honest, not a very good wife. Robert thinks he would have been happy with Lyanna, Cersei thinks she would have been happy with Rhaegar: both are wrong. She starts her wedding day by having sex with her brother; she regularly cuckolds her husband, and then she finishes off by murdering her husband. You could argue that her behaviour is driven by Robert's physical and sexual abuse, and his emotional distance and obvious disdain. I don't think that's incorrect, per se, I just think there's a nasty mix with the two of them. They're bad alone and worse together. They're a toxic, unhappy, traumatised mix, and a solid argument for Westerosi divorce.

Finally, there's Robert's alcoholism and his love of food. There are a number of reasons for this -- the genre's enthusiasm for descriptions of feasts; parallels with Henry VIII of England; possibly GRRM simply likes adding his favourite meals, similar to how he created House Estermont so there could be turtles, because he had pet turtles. Obesity is the sort of thing that's pretty common in middle age men who used to be very physically active, because they had to eat lots to make up their calorie deficit, and when the exercise stopped, the food continued. As for alcohol, it gives Robert an opportunity to forget his (admittedly plentiful) responsibilities and woes, makes him feel like a hero, and gives him an excuse for his abuse of Cersei. He rapes her, and when she brings it up, he says "it was not me, but the wine", then REACHES FOR A BEER. I'm certainly not qualified to talk about addiction and trauma, so if anyone has thoughts on this, please add a comment.

In Shakespeare's Macbeth, the eponymous character snatches the crown at his wife's goading, and then finds that things disintegrate around him. There's a scene in the play where two servants talk about what's going on in Scotland, and one says that two horses fought, and one ate the other. When a monarch is usurped, in literature, nature goes against itself. In real life, revolutions are messy and complicated and difficult. Robert Baratheon fought a rebellion to get his fiance back, whilst others used him and worked alongside him for their own reasons. He was left holding a rotten crown. Abused and abuser, surrounded by toxicity and exuding his own hatred, one could easily create a novel about his disillusionment.

[swordsonnet]

okay i lied, i am going to be talking spoilers (because i have no self-control, and i've seen other people share spoilers in the magnus protocol tag, so i assume it's fine?). assorted rambling thoughts on the premiere under the cut:

-ngl "rusty quill presents... the magnus protocol" made me so emotional

-ah yes, a civil service data entry job that has you working night shifts for no discernible reason. that's not ominous at all

-i love the new characters already! they all have such interesting personalities and relationships with each other, can't wait to see how they'll be developed in further episodes. colin is probably my favourite so far, we stan a grumpy IT guy

-speaking of colin, i'm glad we've got a scottish character this time! i love TMA to bits, but it had a lamentable lack of scottish accents

-alice is so much fun as well! i love how jonny described her as a "tumblr shitposter par excellence"

-sam is such a sweet guy, but i'm sure he'll be introduced to The Horrors™ soon enough... although maybe he already was! he seemed to be familiar with the magnus institute, and just like the trailer, this episode also hinted at something traumatic in his past that led him to join the OIAR. probably something to do with those dubiously ethical child psychology experiments...

-i hadn't even considered what OIAR would sound like spoken out loud, and it's so awkward lmao. really doesn't roll off the tongue

-i kinda ship alice and gwen now tbh. i'm getting prime "workplace nemeses to lovers" vibes from them

-okay, let's address the thing everyone's probably thinking about: i'm not sure how to feel about jon and martin's - sorry, chester and neil's - involvement in protocol. (i mean, it's not 100% confirmed that it is jon and martin, but it seems pretty likely.) like i've said before, i would have preferred to keep the ambiguity of their original ending, but on the other hand, this could be shaping up to be a really interesting plotline. plus, y'know, i've gotten pretty emotionally attached to these characters (*gestures vaguely at my ao3*), so i wouldn't be opposed to seeing them again!

-i guess the guy alice nicknamed augustus is going to be jonah magnus, then? that idea is just so funny to me. imagine being trapped in a computer with your boyfriend (who stabbed you) and your evil boss (whom you stabbed)

-i really like the vibe of the new "statements"! i particularly enjoyed the forum entries, i always appreciate the use of unique formats to tell a story. it reminds me a little of analogue horror, though of course it's the exact opposite of analogue - you could call it digital horror, i suppose? anyway, much as i loved the more traditional horror story structure of the TMA statements, i think it's super exciting that they're branching out and trying new things with protocol. looking forward to see what else they'll come up with!

[suzukiblu]

Ask game: donate/donor

"This omega is our most fitting candidate for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, her smile turning increasingly forced. Bruce thinks he can safely translate that expression as that of a beta who did not in any way agree with that assessment but was stuck following orders. "She fulfills all of your nutritional requests, including the necessary iron content and the prioritized fats and proteins, and, of course, is not taking any manner of lactation-inducing stimulants or supplements."

"He," the omega corrects, sounding dubious. Travers's mouth tightens. Bruce knows a lot of old-school traditionalists who won't call a male omega "he" or a female alpha "she", no matter what said omega or alpha's preferences happen to be, and makes another note about looking into this agency more thoroughly.

Much more thoroughly.

"She isn't available for direct nursing, unfortunately, but her milk is a perfect match to your requests and she produces both excellently and reliably; her supply will be more than enough for your needs," Travers continues as if the omega hadn't spoken, and the omega's lip curls in obvious annoyance as he rolls his eyes with no attempt to hide his exasperation even in the presence of an unfamiliar alpha.

Bruce thinks of Jason with a brief pang, and pushes the thought aside. It's not the time.

Maybe he could've asked Jason for help with this, if he'd been a better father. A better alpha. A better . . .

But he wasn't, so now there's an annoyed stranger standing in his parlor instead of a content packmate curled up in their nest.

"Really?" he asks, tilting his head and blinking down at Travers with a deliberately surprised expression. "The consultant made it sound like you'd need multiple donors, for the amount we're asking."

If one goddamn barely-presented kid is actually producing enough milk to even half-feed a Kryptonian pup . . .

"This omega produces sufficient quantities for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers replies with another forced smile. She must know how ridiculous a statement that is, when she's talking about a stray kid and not a fully mature omega with at least a couple of litters under their belt who's well-established in a stable pack, but she says it with conviction all the same.

"Oh, good!" Bruce says brightly, because he's supposed to be a stupid knotheaded playboy who wouldn't know a damn thing about nursing either way. "That'll be convenient, then."

Frankly, he only wishes one omega could produce what they need right now, but requesting that much milk from one agency for just one pup would be immediately flagged as suspicious, and definitely turned down outright. They're still looking for other candidates under false names, but at the rate they're going, they're going to need to keep supplementing with formula, which already hasn't been going well.

If Clark could get milked up himself, this wouldn't be a problem, of course. A Kryptonian omega could easily produce more than enough for one Kryptonian pup, especially under a yellow sun. Clark nursed Jon without a problem for years and was actually overproducing when he was, Bruce knows very well.

Unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Not since . . .

Clark would never forgive himself if something like that happened again.

Never.

[rookfeatherrambles]

130 FOLLOWERS. NANI? Alright I've been writing for a bit tonight, have this snippet of something. TW: ALMOST CHARACTER DEATH. almost :) ---- BOUND BY SPIDER'S THREAD

Martin’s gaze followed the thick mass of spiders as it trailed off through the grass to pile upon itself, higher and higher, until...

"Hello, Martin." Annabelle Cane smiled down at him. "You look an awful mess."

Martin felt numb, looking from her to Jon's body, so painfully still.

His eyes were oceans of undisguised fear and worry.

"Is he--?"

Annabelle walked over to Jon and knelt down, pressing her hand over the red line that had once been a gushing, gaping thing, and felt his heart pulsing more regularly. Still weak, but stable.

"He'll live, Martin. His heart is held together by spider silk and prayer, but he'll live."

Martin burst into tears. They were ugly, snotty tears, and Annabelle Cane ceased to exist in that moment as he clutched at Jon, mindful of his injury, and pressed his face into his love's neck, his hair, his chest where he could feel his heart pumping blood the way it was supposed to.

He was blubbering something, something like thanks, if thanks was mucus-muffled and also incoherent.

Annabelle was still there, waiting for him to compose himself, and eventually his grateful sobs subsided and he looked up at her through streaky glasses and red eyes. She just smiled. "I'm glad I found you when I did, Martin. I was worried you two had been left behind."

Martin sniffled, wiping his dirty face with a dirtier hand. "Wh-What do you mean? Why? What do you want with us?”

She reached into her black jacket pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to him. "It is in the Mother's best interest to make sure your lovely boyfriend is safe and watched over. And now that I've saved his life, I've accomplished that task."

Martin's suspicion rose. "And? There's an and in there, Annabelle..."

She dipped her head and smiled. "And of course you owe me now, naturally."

He groaned, sitting back on his heels. After a moment of watching Jon's chest rise and fall, he looked back up at her with a stony expression. "What do you want?"

Annabelle stood, brushing down her spotless coat. "Ah, well that, Martin- That is an excellent question. I normally wouldn't be so... forthright about this, but the ex-Archivist is on borrowed time, so I'll just tell you. I want you both to work with me. With the Web, with the Mother of Puppets. You've got some aptitude, Martin, and Jon... Jon is a marvel, but he is a danger to all of our plans, even now. We must make sure he doesn't find his way back to the Eye and well, you know what they say about history repeating itself, don't you?"

She looked satisfied at Martin's dumbstruck expression.

[dairy-farmer]

been thinking abt size queen tim... at some point in his early teens he starts sleeping around, purely in search of a good sexual partner he can call up for a quick no-strings-attached fuck. tim is quickly running out of potential matches because none of them really meet his standards. that is, of course, until jason todd.

jason is objectively hot as hell and, more importantly, able to have sex with tim and not catch feelings. it doesn't hurt that jason has a nice cock that feels great in tim's cunt, especially when they're fucking against a wall. eventually, jason gets too busy to keep up with tim, and they call things off.

thankfully tim isn't out of luck for long; dick comes back to gotham for a visit, and tim is eager to see what he's packing. it's not even difficult to convince dick to sleep with him, dick hasn't had any action in a while and is so ready to have sex with someone consenting. dick feels fucking good inside tim. he's longer than jason but not as thick, and they both enjoy themselves. sadly, dick isn't sticking around so tim is once again hookup-hunting.

tim then turns his sights on damian. the guy's been mildly obsessed with tim for a while, so getting into his pants isn't a challenge. with damian, tim finally gets a taste of what he's been looking for. tim makes damian eat him out first, getting an orgasm out to make sure his cunt is wet and loose enough. when tim finally lets damian fuck him properly, tim swears he can feel his brain leak out of his ears. thick, long, and just on the right side of painfull. it's great for a while and tim always leaves satisfied, but then damian starts chasing after jon kent, and tim is back to the drawing board.

well. if the younger wayne is great, then the older wayne must be fucking excellent. seducing bruce is even easier than seducing damian was. a mini skirt, no panties, and a little flirting is all it takes to make bruce pick tim up and take him to bed. bruce really gets into the foreplay, taking his time while removing tim's shirt and covering his neck, chest, tits and thighs in bite marks. he leaves the skirt on and just pushes it up before starting to eat tim out with enthusiasm. bruce mamages to get tim to come twice before flipping tim over and starting to press in.

the stretch hurts and tim loves it. bruce is so thick, so long, and tim actually has to ask him to stop a couple times so tim can adjust. when bruce is all the way in and tim gives the okay, bruce fucks him hard and tim swears he's never come so quickly or so intensely in his life. it's amazing, and when bruce groans and grinds impossibly deeper as he comes, and tim swears he can feel it seeping into his womb, it becomes perfect.

that is, of course, until tim starts thinking about all the times he's met superman...

tim being an insatiable little size queen who works his way through the ranks to find the perfect cock 😍😍😍

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Corrupted, chapter 23: Getting Real - a TMA x Malevolent crossover

So, here they are: facing fear-gods, and a fucked-up eater of fear-gods, and a weird Welsh heritage, and a death sentence from the devil incarnate, and… they’re flirting about it.

He likes it.

He likes Hastur.

Oh. Oh, he's in over his head.

Corrupted, a TMA x Malevolent crossover featuring Tim Stoker and the King in Yellow, chapter 23.

AO3

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

One of the challenges of an emotional eruption is the tendency to feel stupid after.

Objectively, Tim knows he’s not being stupid. He’s comforted loads of people (drunk and otherwise) who felt overwhelmed and out of control, and he’s aware nobody blames him, or thinks he’s overreacting.

Jon gets him tea. It’s pointless and silly and Tim feels so… moved.

Myrddin just lets him cry it out by walking away and giving him space. Again, Tim is moved; he wanted the space, but was uncomfortable asking for it.

Elias calls back. Yeah, no. Tim doesn’t answer that.

Tim. Tim, breathe.

Tim thinks that's an excellent idea. “I need some air,” he says, sounding nose-stuffed and weary.

“Is that… safe?” says Jon.

“My gut says yes, as long as I don’t go too far, I think.”

“Well, then by all means, don’t do that,” says Jon imperiously.

Tim quashes the urge to put Jon in his pocket and smiles instead. “I won’t. Thanks.” And not remotely in the mood for searching for a door, he climbs right through an open window and away.

#

The ocean goes on forever. He can’t even see the gray horizon-line out there in the fog.

He knows Wales is over there, but weather doesn’t permit visual confirmation, and all he can see is mist and wave and sky. It’s a weirdly lonely feeling. If not for the tower right behind them, it would easily feel like they were abandoned at the edge of the world.

Simon Fairchild, he thinks, would love the view. Then he remembers Junior’s thumb mutating the horizon for a moment, and he sways, dizzy.

Are you all right?

“Super,” says Tim, leaning on his thighs and taking a minute to breathe deeply.

Hastur sounds subdued. I'm sorry, Tim.

"You pronounced those pretty good without practice," says Tim, knowing he isn't making a ton of sense.

Hastur ignores the quip. All of this is so much to ask of a human. I'm sorry.

Tim stands. Swallows. He faces the fact that a god just apologized to him—and a narcissistic, dramatic, ridiculous god, at that. Then Tim faces the fact that if he has to stand up to horrible monsters and impossible magic, he doesn't want to do it alone.

No, it's not that he doesn't want to do it alone. He wants to do it with Hastur.

More than with Danny. More than with any friend. He wants to be with Hastur through this, and he is absolutely not ready to analyze that. “I appreciate that." It's too close, too vulnerable, too real, and Tim jukes left of subject. "All this isn't how I thought my life would end, that’s for certain.”

Tim… it isn’t ending. Not for sure. There may yet be a way to save you.

Tim scoffs. “Don’t you mean us? You better mean us.”

You will have the greatest story ever told when this is through. I expect you to elaborate on my greatness.

Oh, no, Hastur didn't mean us. “Well, sure. Gonna sell the rights to Bollywood, and live off the inevitable franchise money that comes from it.”

Why Bollywood?

“Because any film of my life needs to have gaudy fun, charisma, a good sense of humor, and some baller dancing."

Hastur laughs softly. Ah… I do like you, Tim.

There’s no regret in that statement anymore. There’s an eagerness, an expectation, a focus so intense it has weight. Of course, Tim goes with it. “Kind of impossible not to imagine degenerate things when you talk like that.”

If this works, you won’t have to imagine them anymore.

Hoo, boy. So, here they are: facing fear-gods, and a fucked-up eater of fear-gods, and a weird Welsh heritage, and a death sentence from the devil incarnate, and… they’re flirting about it.

He likes it.

He likes Hastur.

Oh. Oh, he's in over his head. Oh, this is a lot. Tim swallows. "Why didn’t you say ‘us,’ Hastur?"

I’m resigned, Hastur says.

“Resigned?” Tim tries to keep it light. “To what, Bollywood?”

I’ve had a really good run—far longer than I should—thanks to raw luck.

Tim clenches his fist. “Excuse me? You're quitting?”

Don't misunderstand. I'm saying I’ve decided if I have to die because of meeting you, then… the scales balance. That’s all.

Tim stops walking.

Water whispers against the shore, steady and patient. A bird of some kind screams overhead, unseen. The smell of baked bread wafts from the tower, luring. Tim swallows. “That’s a really big thing to say, Hastur.”

I’m aware.

Tim is shaking (because it's cold, he tells himself). “First off, no, I do not approve of you accepting death. Not allowed. Practically an HSE violation. Second, that’s… not something you want to joke around with. For any reason.”

I’m aware.

Tim shakes. He nudges a loose rock with his foot. He could walk the whole island in a few hours; see the weird churchyard where (supposedly) 20,000 saints were laid to rest. See the weird apples unlike any other in the world, immune to blight. See the lighthouse. He doesn’t move. “You’re telling the truth?”

I am.

Tim’s mouth is dry.

Don’t feel like you have to respond. I didn’t say it to get a response. I… just felt it should be said.

But that's such a big thing to say. “Hey. I have a question.”

Ask.

“Why didn’t I lose another body-part after we beamed ourselves here?” Tom says, following a gut instinct.

I chose not to take it.

Tim inhales slowly. “You could’ve before?”

I’m not sure. In both other cases, I was straining for independence, we were in the middle of something wild, and I just found myself with your eye, and your hand. This time… maybe because I had control of your body, briefly, I could feel a… Hastur considers. Like a breeze from an entryway you didn’t know was there. I knew I could follow it and something would happen. I chose not to.

Tim feels pale. Hastur means it. This thing Hastur said… he means it. “Why do the scales balance, Hastur?”

Silence.

“I’m just… that’s a really big thing to say.”

I'm aware.

Tim knows how he’d take a statement like that from a human. He knows what it would mean, emotionally. It sounds like love. 

On the other hand, it's coming from a narcissistic god in hiding who’s facing death by digestion or death by Cthulhu’s great-grand-uncle, all while trapped in a mortal body, and given this, Tim has no idea what it means.

Whatever it really means, it’s a vulnerable statement, and deserves a response. “I…”

Shhh. You don’t have to answer me. I’ve been around a long time and had many lovers, and I know what I said. I didn’t say that to obligate you. I just wanted you to know.

Holy shit. Holy shit. “We're not lovers, though.”

What a strange thing to say to the god seated deep inside you.

Tom chokes a laugh. “What the hell, Hastur? Foul beast. Get thee behind me.”

Oh, I’ll get behind you, all right.

Tim laughs again, and Hastur laughs, too—a deep and quiet sound that buzzes under Tim’s skin in places that shouldn't be possible with disembodied vocal cords, but does anyway.

Damn. They're really doing this. When had the goofy flirting become real?

It is real. This is real.

It's never been real for Tim before. It's worse than fear-gods, worse than some psycho cannibal chomping his way through history. This is real.

Spooked, Tim tries to make it silly again. “Many lovers, eh? How many of those lovers knew who and what you are?”

Hastur huffs. What does that have to do with anything?

Tim grins. “Just wondering what kind of skill level I’m going to be dealing with. You could be like the CEO who thinks he’s funny because his employees all laugh at his jokes.”

Ha! They enjoyed it. I’ll have you know there is no lover like me anywhere in the world.

“That’s not necessarily a positive,” Tim quips, because that was an opening. “And I’m sure they all told you that, right? Notarized and sealed in wax, or something.”

The responses I create cannot be faked.

Tim laughs again. This game is fun. “As far as you know, anyway. Seems to me you’d need a lover who doesn't, you know, worship you to get an honest opinion.”

Are you offering? says Hastur, all honey and whiskey and incorrigible god.

(This became real when did this become real—)

Tim folds his hands behind his back. “Just making an observation.”

Well. I'm glad I could— Hastur stops.

They both feel the change. It’s like a cold breeze, but cruel, moving with intent, and Tim spins toward the horizon. There: a darkness forming in the mist, large, growing, taking so long to resolve into a recognizable shape that the fear of it surges over them, making Tim shockingly aware yet again of how isolated he is on this beach right now, out of sight of land, away from everyone and everything he’s ever known in his life, and—

Hastur’s hand pinches his bicep hard enough to bruise.

“Ow!”

Focus. I'm here. You're not alone. He can’t make us alone.

Of course. Lukas.

Somehow, when Elias said “ship,” this image had not come to mind. It moors in the distance, and its details do not come clear. It is a ghost, a phantom, a rusted and silent hulk in the gloom like nothing else remains in all the world. “Fuck me,” Tim whispers.

I think we’d best go back inside.

“Yeah,” waits Tim weakly. “Hey. Is it okay if I run?”

What do we have to lose?

That was Hasturian for let’s fucking book it, and without another word, Tim turns and bolts.

#

Myrddin seems to dislike having Peter Lukas’ ship in sight of his home. He stands at the window, squishing a slice of bread into a little ball, considering.

“Kinda need that ship,” says Tim, “in case you were, you know, thinking of scuttling it, or something. I don’t fancy trying to portal myself to wherever we’re going.”

“Mm,” Myrddin says.

“I mean, unless you have another way to get there,” says Tim.

“Oh, I do,” says Myrddin, “but I’d rather eat my own foot than go near the destination, to be perfectly honest. Not my cup of tea.” He shivers.

Well, if the wizard’s being that dramatic, then it can’t be that serious. “Not that we both don't know this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve got a promise to keep.”

“And many miles before you sleep?” prompts Myrddin.

“These woods don't quite have the lovely part down.”

“Dark and deep, though,” Myrddin says.

“You're not wrong.”

Beside them, Jon shivers, staring out the window.

Tim wonders if he sees something they don’t. “Maybe it’s a better idea if you stay behind.”

“No,” says Jon.

He’s using you somehow, little priest, says Hastur. Elias is doing something. You’re walking right into it.

“I don't care,” Jon snaps. “I have to… I can't… you don’t understand.”

“So help me do that?” says Tim, all too aware that a spooky lifeboat with a spooky shape that’s probably Lukas in the bow is coming their way. “Because right now, I'm seeing you taking a big risk, popping along with me, and I don’t have a reason why.”

Jon sighs. “Look. I don’t know what Elias’ role in this is, but I'm not doing any of it for him. You don’t understand. I need to know. I need to. I need see the truth with my own eyes.”

“Right, but why?” Tim frowns. “You’re not telling me something.”

Jon looks positively caught. “I am not.”

“Yeah, that’s a double-negative, boss, so you just admitted you are,” says Tim, just to be a contrary.

Jon reddens. “I swear on my honor I will swim after the blasted boat if you try to leave me behind.”

Tim is not laughing. Nope. Not at all. “You got a lot of practice swimming?”

Jon is too skinny to do a puffy kitten impression, but he manages, anyway. “I grew up in Bournemouth. I’ll have you know I am an adequate swimmer.”

Hastur laughs. Adequate!

“Perfectly satisfactory!” says Jon.

“All right, all right,” says Tim, raising his hands. “You can come on the scary ghost ship. On your head be it if it’s properly spooky and answers nothing.”

“I’m not—” John begins, and then comes a knock at the door.

Myrddin takes Tim’s hand. “I'm glad to have met you," he says. "Don’t die, hm? We can talk when you get…” And he pauses. Blinks. “Oh, my,” he says, and turns away.

“When I what?” Tim blurts. “Get back? Why would you interrupt that?”

Myrddin opens the door instead of replying. A man stands there, and he is not Peter Lukas. He is short, heavyset, with a thick, black beard and dark skin made darker by the sun. He wears a nondescript pea coat, and around his neck hangs the unique, trumpet-like shape of a boatswain’s whistle.

That whistle gives Tim the heebie-jeebies. A whistle has never given him the heebie-jeebies before.

“Well, well, well,” says Myrddin. “Tadeus. That’s where you disappeared to?”

And the man, the boatswain judging by his whistle, looks through Myrddin like the wizard isn’t there, and tilts his head toward Tim in the barest acknowledgment.

Tim feels like his eyes are very wide. "Okay, sure. Yeah, let's go."

Myrddin touches his shoulder. "Good luck," he says softly. "I think you’ll be glad in the end you made the choices you did. Yes. You will.” And he tucks something into Tim’s pocket and pushes him toward the door.

The guy—Dahl, apparently—has already turned, walking back towards that tiny boat.

Jon gulps audibly. “Thank you for your hospitality, sir.”

“Of course, of course,” says Murddin with great and sudden cheer. “We’ll talk more when you get back.”

“When he gets back?” squawks Tim, but he already knows he won’t get an answer.

Dahl isn't waiting. They both hurry after.

Myrrdin stands in the door, smiling, waving a handkerchief like a black-and-white recording of some old-timey embarkation.

Tim shakes his head. “This might as well happen,” he murmurs.

That’s an amusing reaction to horror.

“Sort of logical, really,” says Tim, hunching his shoulders against the sudden cold as he follows this Dahl. “It’s really one of those days, you know? Not much we can do about it. So this might as well happen.”

His left hand shifts slightly out of his pocket and strokes his stomach. Pragmatic. But you're not doing it alone.

Tim swallows.

Jon jogs at his heels, too close, already spooked and shit at hiding it.

They wouldn't get anything out of drowning us, would they? Tim thinks, trying not to add to the spookification.

Only Elias’s displeasure, probably, says Hastur.

“What?” says Jon. “What displeasure?”

Tim forgot Jon could hear Hastur now. “Oh. They won’t do anything nefarious to us, is all I'm saying.”

Jon looks a little pale. “Only if we actually die. There are a lot of things they could do that don't involve death."

Tim makes a face. “Well, sure, if you want to get ridiculously technical, sure.”

You can still back out, little priest.

“Look, will you just call me Jon, please?” Jon snaps. “It's my blasted name.”

Hastur chuckles. As you wish. Jon. He does something to the name, makes it intimate, magical, maybe even a little invasive.

Jon trips.

“Hastur,” chides Tim, steadying him.

What? He wants me to use his name! Names are intimate.

Tim rolls his eyes. “Sorry. Some people can't behave, apparently.”

“Fine,” mutters Jon. “It’s fine. I asked.”

Don’t go making me jealous, now, Tim thinks, still chiding.

Don’t give me reason to, says Hastur.

So.

Tim thinks two things as they follow the silent Dahl onto the rowboat. One, he's right, and their relationship is changed. It is real. Serious. They both feel it, and they really need to talk out some boundaries ASAP.

Two (speaking of boundaries), Hastur is apparently jealous of Jon?

Why?

Well. That would be one of the things they discuss. Soon.

Dahl is strong. He kicks them off the rocky shore and hops in, weirdly graceful, and begins rowing them toward that distant dark shape.

But Tim knows what he saw before. The boat moved itself. Dahl is doing this for show, and Tim can’t imagine why. Though come to think of it, there’s a weird isolation to sitting in a boat, silent, rowed by a man a;sp sitting in silence, who ignores them as completely as if they didn't exist.

[undeadboyfriendsupportgroup]

Throwing in some headcanons for the season 1 Archive gang

(As always, these are just silly goofy fun, not meant to invalidate anyone's characterization of the archive folks, we're in season 3 so if any of these contradict with canon, it's probably bc of that or memory failing us/personal preference sooooo, lesgo)

cw: alcohol (very lightly mentioned) and spiders

Jon:

-Jon tends to wander when drunk, it's a good idea to keep an eye on him. He's gotten lost in campus during his college days but always comes back unharmed (somehow).

-He thought his grandmother made up grass allergies to keep him from getting into dangerous places as a kid but his family has a genetic grass allergy, nothing fatal but recently cut grass does make him v itchy when it touches bare skin.

-He uses pen grips, i think he's developing arthritis so he owns some comfortable rubber ones. There are a few bite marks on em, but if you confront him he will gaslight you

-Jon's bones also crack very easily, when he gets up you can hear it. It gets worse throughout the seasons

-Jon uses transparent nail polish. He started doing it to avoid nail biting but started the habit of chipping it off. In college he wore colored nail polish but he ditched bc he doesn't consider it v professional on himself.

-He's a responsible sunscreen user, he applies it whenever he needs to be outside but he uses a regular drugstore one since i don't think he believes in skincare being a thing. IN THE SAME VEIN: he doesn't think that body wash works, he only believes in soap.

-He had a bowlcut as a kid.

-He gets shorter by 1 inch per season.

-Jon, even though very good with tech, prefers to do things on paper because he likes the feeling. He prefers pencils over pens, but uses pens because they are more professional

-Jon would love smash burgers, i'm not giving more context.

Sasha:

-Sash started training a couple years ago to improve her posture (she tended to go shrimp while doing deskwork) and now she could crush a lemon with a single hand. She and Tim go to the gym sometimes and she can lift way more than him

-To counteract the smash burger hc above, she would love Shake Shack.

-She's scored pretty high on IQ tests every time she has to take them but she doesn't believe in their validity.

-She used to go spelunking on internet forums a lot.

-I think she would have enjoyed well planned ARGs and things that involved solving mysteries before it became her full-time job to deal with horrors.

-Sasha owns comfy shoes she wears in the office. Wearing heels during a whole workday isn't worth it and she knows this.

-Shes a bit of a stationary fan, she would have all of the really nice highlighters and notebooks

-She chews her lips pretty often, especially when she wears nice chap sticks

-She likes furbies.

Tim:

-He hates furbies and dolls, truth be told it is more fear than hatred.

-He's been on commercials as a kid at least once. Somewhere on youtube there's a bubblegum commercial with a preteen Tim on it and Jon found it while looking for background info about nearly everyone in the archives in season 2.

-Tim has a small collection of fucked up Rubik cubes. He has a knack for solving them, the more alien-looking, the better. He finds solving puzzles stimulating but also gets fed up with them easily. Having something to do with his hands helps him think.

-He's an excellent draftsman, took an art course pre college and he indulges in it every now and then. He has no issues with people looking through his sketchbooks and all of the building facade sketches he has there. He's the kinda guy to sketch random people he sees in public and all of the archives gang has been drawn by him before

-He would love cockatiels, but he doesn't own any animals. He birdwatches quite a bit and has books/a special sketchbook just for birds/landscapes. He also purple columbine flowers, even though he is really bad with plants. He's foraged before but he ended up in emergency care bc he fucked with something he shouldn't have XD

-Tim got his tongue pierced some time ago, it suits him well.

-Will absolutely WRECK you in karaoke and then act like he isn't that good after (he was a theater kid)

-He's the most seasoned traveler among everyone in the archives. Tim's ideal vacay would be going around the world

-He would have enjoyed streaming games as a hobby (am i bringing up Mike LeBeau? probably. In a different world we would have Tim playing The Sims 2 with all of the mods on Twitch). He's also had pink hair before!!

Martin:

-He's a bit of a polyglot to me (so far The Eye makes you understand other languages but it doesn't give you proficency over them! That's all his own talent)

-Mart's worked at a blu-ray rental before the Institute. He came out of that job decently well-versed in 80's-90's movies. He's the opposite of a film snob and probably loves The Princess Bride and other bangers

-Martin's the kind of person that would cut an apple for you but he'd eat a tangerine with the rind on without hesitating. After you have a fight with him he brings you cut fruits and crackers

-He also writes prose and has finished nanowrimo during company time.

-Martin wears graphic tees under shirts under sweaters at work, but for very nerdy and obscure things

-Martin does the little dinosaur hand things often when he is walking, heh

-He's kept house spiders in glass jars with little holes and fed them bugs. Many of those spiders gave birth inside those jars. He's moved places a couple times as a kid so he's probably responsible of scaring a landlord or two by greeting them with a roomful of spider jars (and it was deserved).

-Martin owns tea pets!! He shares a cuppa with them every now n then

[hummingbirdspark]

Feel free to use these ideas if you want! You do not need to credit me, but just let me know you did so I can read it.

Details for the story ideas under the cut

Kidnapped and forced to do maths

Pretty self-explanatory, they get locked in cells equipped with digital blackboards and stuff and can’t leave until they answer enough questions right. Penalties for wrong answers is death. Perhaps opportunities for teamwork?

Kipo and the age of Wonderbeasts au

Might not make sense if you haven’t seen Kipo but Carmilla uses megamute dna to try and make humans able to live on the surface, but after getting kicked out of her burrow, she has to wander the surface, looking for humans desperate enough to accept her ‘help’. I already have a bulletfic for how each of them gets found and mutated

Steven Universe au

Mechanisms as the Off-Colors. Gems thst either rebelled against or were thrown out by the diamonds. They wander the galaxy, and sometimes assist gem rebellions. The moon war was fought over earth’s moon base, between the crystal gems and those loyal to the Diamonds.

Doctor who TMA au

Jon and Jonny were brothers on Gallifrey, and while Jon excelled in timelord school and became The Archivist, Jonny was distracted by paying off his father’s debts and failed, never to receive the title of “the Captain” or 12 regenerations. He didn’t stay mortal for long, as Carmilla found him like in cannon and mechanized both of his hearts. They stole a TARDIS called Aurora and fled to the stars. Many many years later, The Archivist finds his long lost brother when taking his companions, Martin, Tim, and Sasha to the Steamworld Intergalactic Music Festival

False domestic psychological prison

An enterprising young member of an intergalactic authority comes up with a new idea for these immortal criminals’ containment: the only prison the Mechanisms can’t escape is the one they don’t know they’re in. They capture the mechanisms and through a combination of the sedative effects of the Lotus, and some memory altering microchips, they get the Mechanisms to think they are just (mostly) normal people on a normal planet. To make them less likely to escape, they gave them something they never could have had before. Jonny gets respect as the owner of a tailor shop, with workers who call him sir, and trust and obey his judgement. Brian, as a priest is listened to in all his advice and praised for his wise moral decisions. Will they realize it’s a trick? Or stay living this lie forever?

Spaceteam fic

The Aurora gets stuck in a strange wormhole (bifrost?) and she can’t operate anything but basic piloting. Suddenly strange new controls are on the bridge, as well as whole other consoles of controls. Instructions for what to do are provided on screens, but they don’t match the control each mechanism sees on their console. Luckily they’re all within shouting distance, but they will have to learn to work together… as a spaceteam. Set Sigmaclapper to 5! Soak Ferrous Holospectrum! Baste the Emergency Whittler!

Summer Camp Councilors

Human au where the mechanisms are councilors at Camp Cosmo, with wacky hijinks, camp names, and songs. Several units of cabins inspired by the 4 story albums, a great spot on a canal with sea kayaking, regular kayaking, sailing, and canoeing. A high ropes and low ropes course, an archery range, and an arts and crafts area are also present for those who aren’t water crazy. Pack up your sense of adventure and extra flashlight batteries! Hopefully the campers won’t get into any drama…

Kofi rat from Small Saga meets Marius

This is for the KofiAssam fans out there! Our very own rat-tailed rover finds themself on a massive metal god dwelling and encounters The Metal Armed God!

Or

Marius Von Raum finds a rat wearing clothing that seems to be able to play the mandolin. Good thing he learned to speak rat when he and Toy Soldier went to that candy planet where Toy Soldier somehow became a prince…

Steam Powered Giraffe roleswap

What if Doctor Carmilla lived on earth and created nine singing automatons that could self repair?

What if Colonel P. A. Walter mechanized 6 humans with blue matter to create a force of galactic heroes, that then forgot their original names?

1920s American speakeasy

Probably heavily based on Lackadaisy. Carmilla’s Speakeasy is a great place to get illegal alcohol, and its secret entrance is inside the Cafe Aurora. The owner, Carmilla herself is illusive at best, and her seeming to only show her face at night has lead to rumors of her being a vampire or witch. Rumors that are only worsened when she gave each of her employees a strange new gift: pins, that she insists are a new part of their uniform to be worn at all times. The purpose of the pins is made clear when Jonny is shot by a rival rumrunner while on a job and comes back from the dead.

SCP contains Brian and Toy Soldier

Brian was on MJE and Toy Soldier was under direct orders from a researcher to not escape. The only question is would Doctor Bright be an expert on immortality, or would letting him know about The Mechanisms be a terrible idea?

Marius backstory oneshot based on the christmas armistice

There are many things Byron Marius expected to hear in the middle of a war. The pound of bullets, the screams of other soldiers, and crash of giant robot mechas overhead. What he didn’t expect to hear was singing.

Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht

That’s all, folks

I have way too many ideas.

[shining-m00nlight]

Sweet Revenge

Join me in this crack Fic about Myrcella trying to get revenge on her mom by using the Starks!

Myrcella Baratheon walked into the Stark home, right into the living room without knocking or announcing herself.

“How did you get in here?” asked Robb sitting on the couch and looking at the blonde confused.

“Oh I swiped the key from Theon,” Myrcella explained.

“Why does Theon have a key to our house?” Sansa asked suspiciously looking up from her book.

Robb looked a bit embarrassed.

“Well I thought it would be better than him sneaking through the window, mom got suspicious when she noticed there were footprints around the window all the time.”

"Why don't you just.." Sansa started but got interrupted by Arya.

"OK, while Theon's habits of sneaking in here are toootally fascinating," she said with an eye roll, "I would rather like to know why Myrcella is here?"

“You are getting married!” Myrcella proclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Right at that Jon walked into the room and asked: “Who’s getting married?”

“You!” Mycrella said, “and Robb, Sansa and Arya also Bran and Rickon. So basically all of you”

“Rickon is only 15 years old.” Robb exclaimed.

“That is your first thought? Cella just said we are all getting married and Rickon's age is your only objection to it” Ayra asked her brother.

“Well not the only one, it was just the first one. Ok? Excuse me that I am against child marriage” Robb tried to defend himself.

“But marriage arranged against our will by Cella is fine by you?” Sansa smirked at Robb. A habit she learned from Margery.

“Well Cella is very smart, so I’m sure whoever she picks for you will be a good choice.” Robb replied not wanting to back down.

“Why, thank you Robb. And he is right. I made excellent choices for you and your spouses. You're gonna be very pleased!”

"Yeah, I'm out. I already have a boyfriend” Arya chimed in again.

“Don’t worry you get to keep him. He just needs to become your husband. And…”

“Okay wait wait wait. Myrcella, maybe you would like to explain to us what exactly is all of this?” Sansa stoppt Myrcella.

“Why? Can’t a friend not ask for a favor? Without being questioned?” Myrcella asked back.

Jon gave her a disapproving look that he definitely stole from Ned.

“Ok soooooo. You know how your dad and my dad are best friends? So if one of you would be married my dad would be invited and with that my mom right?”

Collective nodding occurred from the four Starks present in the room.

“And you might also know that I have some half siblings, whos existens my mom is not really fond of. Lastly, you all know my mom is a bitch!”

The dutiful nodding stopped instantly and now Mycella had four shocked Starks in front of her.

“Oh come on. Don’t pretend nobody has ever called my mom a bitch in this house”

“We would never do that! Mom would have our heads if we talked like that about anyone. Mostly she is called that Lannister woman”

“That spiteful woman, maybe”

“Or that hateful woman”

“But never a bitch”

“No, never”

"Ok, I get it. You have parents that actually tried to teach you manners but the point is, you still know what my mom is like. And I had a huge fight with her where she really showed that she hates everything and everybody, including us. Before the question comes, no I do not want to talk about it. I want revenge. And this is where you come in.”

Sansa looked a bit skeptical: “You want to use us marrying people as revenge against your mom?”

“Not people, Sansa. My half siblings. My half siblings that my mom doesn’t like. My half siblings whose weddings she would never attend because why would she? My half siblings whose weddings she would have to attend if they were to marry her husband's best friends' kids. Which happen to be you!” she said the last sentence as if she was revealing new information to the siblings.

“I think it is a great plan! I will support it under the condition that we marry in the order of age!” Arya said happily.

“Of course you would agree. Your boyfriend is one of said siblings so his plan basically doesn’t affect you! This is a joke anyway, right Myrcella?” Sansa questioned her voice, sounding worried that Myrcella might have lost her mind.

“Of course not Sansa! I have this all planned out! As we established, Arya is gonna stay with Gendry. I am very grateful that her actions while predating my plan are supporting it. Robb I know you are the oldest so I thought about pairing you with my oldest sibling but I’m gonna be honest I didn’t see the vision. So you can have my second oldest sister Bella. She is great and a lot of fun. Super pretty too. She is a bit particular about her hair which is why I didn't put her with Jon because you can only have one person per relationship caring too much about hair.”

“Hey!” Jon tried to protest but Mycella shushed him immediately.

“Don’t worry Jon. I of course have somebody great for you. Mya! I know you guys know her a bit better than Bella so I feel like I don’t need to say much about her. Last present here. Sansa. For you I picked Edric. You are basically the same age and he comes with the advantage of being the cousin of Shireen twice. And then Bran can marry one of the twins or both if he wants to. Actually both might be even better. Could you imagine my mothers face? And lastly Rickon can marry Barra. They can wait a few years for those concerned about age. We have to get through five weddings before them anyway. Just imagine how mad my mom would be if she had to go to a Stark/Robert Baratheon bastard wedding every year for the next six years. It is a perfect revenge and it will last long and will drive my mother up the wall!

…So? What do you think?”

[kyndaris]

A Great Detective's Beginning

I think I've said before that Sherlock Holmes is a character I greatly admire. Ever since reading about his adventures in a huge omnibus collection of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work, I wanted to emulate the great detective in all things with a doctor companion by my side. The art of observation was something I attempted to train my younger self in by studying the fingers of a stranger or the scuffs on their shoes for just a hint of what it might tell me about their life.

Unfortunately, it's not every day one stumbles on a murder. Second, it's not like many a policeman would allow a random civilian to take part in their investigations. Life, it seems, is unlike the world of my many stories. A shame, really. I feel like I would have been an excellent sidekick to the great Sherlock Holmes.

Since my childhood dream is but an impossibility, playing as Sherlock Holmes in a series of video games has become the next best thing for someone like me.

Sherlock Holmes: Chapter One released in 2021 and was developed by Frogwares, a video game developer headquartered in Ukraine. Over the years, I've played many a game that they've churned out. While the quality is middling at best - given the studio straddles the line of indie developer and triple-A studio - there is something endearing about their games that keep me coming back for more. Jankiness be damned!

Chapter One is set in Sherlock's younger years before he meets his erstwhile companion, Dr John Watson. While the game demonstrates that Sherlock has always had a special talent for deduction, there is an uncertainty to the character that we meet as he ponders the best way to utilise the truth. For example, one of the latter cases involved handing over incriminating evidence of a leading political leader of Cordona to better the lives of all African refugees. True, Sherlock could publish the information and see another corrupt politician fall, but doing so would not serve to benefit many an individual. Nor would it see restitution to the victim.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Chapter One centres on Sherlock visitng the island of Cordona, a fictional island that feels like it borrows elements from Cyprus and Malta's history. Our not-quite-great detective arrives to visit his mother's, Violet Holmes, grave. Upon immediately disembarking, he is embroiled in one mystery of another sparked by a challenge from his companion, Jon.

The Jon that stars in Chapter One is no doctor, however. Rather, he is Sherlock's imaginary friend. Because of this, Frogwares is able to incorporate their janky gameplay for narrative purposes, such as the teleporting John Watson from the good old days, the vanishing and clipping of Jon as he fades in and out of existence, or the fact that he is able to walk up walls.

He's not real to the people of Cordona and is a figment of Sherlock's imagination.

This plays into the story of the game as well, culminating in a showdown as Sherlock reckons with a traumatic event from the past. While I didn't like the choices that eventuated - agreeing with many people on Reddit that the logic Sherlock incorporated in his assessment of what had happened to his mother when he was ten was a little harsh - I did very much being given the opportunity to take a peek at a Sherlock before the one many of us fans see in his first novel appearance: A Study in Scarlet.

From a gameplay perspective, Chapter One incorporated many elements from the previous games including the mind palace and the connecting of clues to make deductions. Though 221b Baker Street didn't exist, Sherlock was able to make use of the archives in the city of Cordona and seemingly carried a box of chemicals with him to deduce whatever strange fluid he stumbled upon. This streamlined a lot of the gameplay from older games and also made sense from a story narrative.

My main issue, of course, was failing to take into consideration elements of the environment or character writing/ behaviour when making my deductions to certain cases and allowing my own biases to shine through. For example, the very first case. I very much wanted it to be the prone-to-anger partner, who acted like a rich entitled arsehole.

Alas, it was the poor spirit medium.

The other cases didn't have such clear cut culprits, with many open to interpretation. Fortunately, there were three major side quests that were able to fill the void left open by the need to have a very obvious antagonist - leading up to Sherlock wowing them with his deductive prowess before breaking down.

This added additional flavour to the island of Cordona, even as it worried me that so many murders or accidental manslaughter could be happening in and around the island.

Still, as a mystery nut, I very much appreciated how much of these cases Frogwares scattered throughout the game and probably would have preferred some more if I'm being perfectly honest.

Then, of course, there were the combat elements Frogwares included in their game. While previous titles didn't have as much action sequences beyond a few quick-time action button presses, here, Sherlock was facing off against various thugs. Most of these involved stunning them by shooting at weakpoints (such as their hat or a molotov cocktail strapped to their back) before rushing forward to knock them out.

While these encounters added a little spice to the usual 'go here' and 'search for clues' aspect of the game, these elements did also become quite repetitive due to how little these elements changed from encounter to encounter.

Overall, I enjoyed my time with Chapter One much more than I did Vampire: The Masquerade - Swansong solely because of how open the game world was and how much it tickled the itch I had to deduct the events of what happened. While I appreciated Jon's commentary of my greatness, I was also aggrieved when certain things I did, which felt logical at the time, were gated by how the game wished for Sherlock to proceed with a certain clue or piece of information.

In the end, though Chapter One still made me feel like I knew what I was doing. And honestly, that's probably the only real way to make a consulting detective of a modern-day 30 year-old woman who grew up reading tales of Victorian England and obsessing over the BBC version of Sherlock in the year of 2010, starring the likes of Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman.

[a-libra-writes]

hey!! if you’re up for it, I would like to request headcanons for how the asoiaf characters would react to girlfriend/wife!reader being insecure about her looks :) it would be great if you would add jon as well as whoever you want!!

Gonna do a shortie for this one!

Oberyn, Margaery, Sansa and Jorah are arguably the most understanding in this regard. They care about you deeply and find you wonderful as you are, but! They still understand how insecurities can come up and make you feel terrible. They're excellent at emphasizing, holding your hand and giving you wonderful words of encouragement. Oberyn and Margaery are extra affectionate about it - lots of kisses for their lovely lady! This group doesn't want to let you out of their arms until you're smiling and feeling better again.

Edmure, Arianne, Ned, Brandon, Asha and Jon are a little surprised to learn you feel insecure about your appearance. You're just so wonderful and perfect in their eyes already - and you still feel this way? Edmure and Jon aren't sure what to do other than just give you plenty of love and reassurances, because you really are just the best to them! Arianne and Brandon would be the type to give you lots of kisses and spice to help you feel better (okay, Oberyn would do that too, but after he gave you encouragement). Asha definitely isn't sentimental about it; but she still puts an arm around you and listens to your worries.

Tyrion, Brienne, Brynden and Sandor are also blindsided by this, and they aren't sure how to encourage you that doesn't also include putting themselves down. In Brynden's case it's more lighthearted - he is "just an old man". Tyrion would arguably be the most heartfelt, and wouldn't let you be until he really felt he reassured you. Sandor is terribly uncomfortable; shuffling and unsure what to say - I mean, he finds you lovely, but - can he actually say that? Brienne, meanwhile, will absolutely say that (while also doing the same awkward shuffle).

Tywin, Roose, Stannis, Victarion and Jaime are also in the "unsure how to react at first" camp, but they quickly recover with a simple solution - buy you nice things. Okay, in Stannis' case he feels bad for not having the right words, so he gets things (not just clothes or jewelry) that he knows you enjoy. He's not one who thinks about physical appearances. Victarion doesn't get it at all and he's more than happy to fuck you until you feel better (sigh), but figures maybe you'd like something pretty before that? Stolen, of course. Roose and Tywin aren't the most sympathetic, esp since they're clearly attracted to you, so maybe buying you nice things would help you feel better. Jaime's actually more understanding than he lets on; but he's not the most ... sensitive about it. Especially before he's captured.