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smokeybrandreviews · 2 years ago

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An Ode to Third Impact

I got into anime early in life. When i was young, it was Voltron and Robotech. When i got a little older, it was Akira and Wicked City. Yes, i saw Wicked City when i was still in grade school. To be honest, i was raised up on the ultra-violence and hyper-sexuality of those old Eighties OVAs. Way back when, we didn’t have the child-friendly likes of Dragon Ball Z or Inuyasha. Hell, i didn’t see Sailor Moon for the first time until i was in the fourth grade, and that sh*t came on at five in the goddamn morning! My ten year old ass got up, every morning, at five in the goddamn morning, to watch the Dic dub of Sailor f*cking Moon! That’s how committed i was o what we called “Japanimation”. Life was different back then. Being into anime, comics, games, and tokusatsu, made you weird. None of that sh*t was as socially accepted as it is now, which meant just So much of it was inaccessible but, i eventually, i realized my local video store had a plethora of “adult animation” on hand and it opened the flood gates.

When i tell you i absolutely decimated the offerings at Hollywood Video (yes, i am THAT old), i would not be an exaggeration. It was there i first took in the likes of Vampire Hunter D, Ghost in he Shell, and Plastic Little. I had a Crisis of Bubblegum and enlisted into the Lodoss War. But, it would be Bio-Boosted Armor Guyver, which would leave the most profound impression on my life. Now, don’t misunderstand me, i love this show. It’s in my top ten all-time. I my get around to making that list (if i already haven’t) but, suffice it to say, Guyver reinforced a lot of what i loved about anime to that point. Violence. Blood. Gore. Fluid animation and a dope premise. I was all over this sh*t. Up to that point, that’s what anime was to me. I mean, i had seen Akira and GitS by then but they were “movies.” Of course they would be far more cinematic that a serialized anime airing on television. Of course they would tell a proper story that carried pathos and originality. There would be themes and subtext, but that was so goddamn rare in my Golden Age OVAs. So imagine my utter surprise when, on several of those Guyver tapes, there were trailers for Neon Genesis Evangelion.

What initially caught my eye was the promise of fan service. Every trailer hinted at fan service so, as a pre-teen just entering puberty and knowing anime was chock full of bouncing titties, i was all in. I got my mom to rent that first tape just to wet mys whistle a bit and, to my unmitigated shock, there were no titties and i didn’t care. That first episode of EVA changed my entire f*cking life. That sh*t started fast, hit hard, and ended on one of the best cliffhangers i had ever seen set to celluloid. All of it was so gorgeous, so well performed, so well executed. This sh*t was a show? This aired on television? Japan was getting top tier quality animation, brilliantly narrated, and devastatingly performed, anime like this. Neon Genesis Evangelion was a work of f*cking art and easily the most gorgeous thing I'd seen since Akira so long ago. And, i reiterate, this sh*t aired on television! By the end of that second episode, i was hooked. Watching Shinji, or rather, berserk Unit-01, absolutely decimate Sachiel, left me wanting so much more. There are time in our lives when something become a core memory. An unmovable int in our development which we call back to in order to judge or reconcile new stimulus. An Unfamiliar Ceiling/The Beast is one of those points for me. That episode altered the way i approach and process media to this day. I hold everything theatrical, everything cinematic, to that one episode of anime because, to me, it was that profound. The climax to Akira. Major’s closing words from GitS. That first beam clash between Goku and Vegeta in the Saiyan saga. These are moments that have ingrained themselves into my memory, never a full episode. An Unfamiliar Ceiling/The Beast, did. And it wouldn’t be the last.

A Human Work, Decisive Battle in Tokyo-3/Rei II, Moment and Heart Together/ Both of You, Dance Like You Want to Win!, The Choice of Life/ Ambivalence, A Man's Battle/ Introjection, The Final Messenger/ The Beginning and the End, or 'Knockin' on Heaven's Door, and The End of Evangelion: Air/My Purest Heart For You. That’s it. That’s the list. All of those episodes were carved into my heart. To this day, i can recall in vivid detail, the entirety of each and every one of those episodes. Them sh*ts have stayed with me, lived rent free in my head, for almost thirty years. That’s testament to m y love for EVA. But it doesn’t stop there. The Evangelion units, themselves, are my second favorite, all-time mecha design. I had never seen anything like that before and i was drawn to the intricate, well thought out, detail of the actual functionality each Eva had. For the record, Gundam Epyon is my favorite but that has nothing to do with this post. I just wanted to be transparent as to what was in that top spot but, of the EVA, themselves, Unit-01 is my GOAT. That big, purple and neon green, monster is design perfection. So is Rei. I mean, all of the character designs are as f*ck but, for me, it’s Rei Ayanami. She was my fist waifu and, decades later, is still held in the highest of esteem. Asuka is a better character overall but, i dunno, man, it’s Rei or nothing for me. Plus, and i don’t say this lightly considering BLEACH exists, EVA has THE greatest anime opening themes, in history. A Cruel Angel’s Thesis slaps harder than anything out there with the exception of, maybe, Darling in the Franxx opening, Kiss of Death. Maybe. And that one doesn’t even count because Franxx is, very obviously, an homage to EVA in it’s own right. Your sh*t had to slap if you’re gunning for the crown!

I unapologetically love Neon Genesis Evangelion. It is, for me, the greatest anime ever produced. This sh*t is perfect in almost every way. I hold it in the same esteem as the original Alien film and The Killer’s first album, Hot Fuss. If you know me, then you know how i feel about those two pieces of media but just to be clear, Hot Fuss is the only album where i never skip a song and Alien is one of, if not the most complete film, i have ever seen. EVA means as much to me as much as Transformer, as much as Spider-Man, as much as Godzilla. It single-handedly, forced my perspective of what anime could be, to expand. If not for EVA, i wouldn’t have bothered with the likes of Ergo Proxy, Serial Experiments Lain, Gilgamesh, or Paranoia Agent. The heady weight of those Evangelion themes prepped my expectation for much more to come. I would have slept on more artistic and surreal fare like Mononoke and The Count of Monte Cristo. I wouldn’t put the effort into deciphering more existentially thematic titles like Technolyze, Madoka, Mnemosyne, and This Ugly yet Beautiful World. If not for EVA, i wouldn’t expect so much more from my anime. I wouldn’t understand that there is a range of where anime can live because Evangelion touched all across that spectrum. I am okay putting the likes of Dragon Ball Z on the same pedestal as, say, FLCL or Monster because EVA cross-pollinated in those genres and themes. Evangelion showed me that anime was so much more than just ultra-violence and hyper-sexualization. EVA sowed me that a profound story with rich characters and strong themes can be, at times, lighthearted, earnest, and full of heart. Anime didn’t have to be just robots, titties and gore. It could be cinema and i will forever be grateful to Hideaki Anno, and Gainax, for giving me that gift.

#Neon Genesis Evangelion #Evangelion #EVA #anime

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man--eater · 1 month ago

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What's your most popular work, and what work(s) are you most proud of? Are they different? (not off an ask meme, but it's been buzzing around my head for a few days)

Sunset, thank you for this ask, I have been mulling it over since yesterday. It really made me think!

Not counting orphaned fics, my most popular work (by kudos) is an Astarion/Tav smut oneshot (the trap i set for you seems to have caught my leg instead) that I like but am not crazy about or invested in. I wrote it on a whim and didn’t put much thought into it, and Camellia is not even the Tav I ship with Astarion now (Yarrow my beloved <3).

The works I am most proud of—honestly, this is close to a tie between No Shade in the Shadow of the Cross, my Midnight Mass sad vampire priest/OC fic, and from his lips not words alone pleased her, my Hazbin Hotel Alastor/OC fic. But No Shade has the edge because I am just still so happy I could take an absolutely absurd premise (Tig catches John Pruitt in a wildlife trap, holds him captive and collared in a dog kennel, and unintentionally helps him process his trauma by flogging him and fucking him until he cries) and somehow end up with a story that I was very emotionally invested in—Tig and John actually felt like people, and sometimes I was just following them around rather than planning their script. Tig is my favorite OC, though Daphne is a close second. She’s just so hostile and sadistic and brutal in this ice-cold way and goes out of her way to smother any soft or gentle parts of herself. And John, of course, is a wet sack of mice who is just so needy and grief-stricken and desperate for the smallest scraps of reassurance and gentle touch. They are so good together, and they are growing as people together. This line from a comment I got still makes me smile: “I had no idea how you were going to get Pruitt from a bear trap to being pegged, yet you somehow managed to bring them to this point organically.” I do need to go back to that story—I need them both to get the catharsis they’ve earned.

For from his lips, I am proud of Daphne’s character growth through the story, and of how she and Alastor developed their strange but intense relationship. It’s also the first story I’ve written where both characters are ace, which is different for me because pretty much every other fic I’ve written is chock full of f!dom smut. It’s been nice to write a budding relationship where non-sexual physical intimacy is front and center, and while there is some sexual tension and eventual sex as they explore it in their own way, it’s certainly not the most important thing. I’ve enjoyed their dynamic, and as I write the last 2 chapters of it, I do feel a little proud.

Honorable mention goes to howling for answers no wolf could know, a Dragon Age Solas/Lavellan smut oneshot which like. 7 people have read, but I am actually really proud of the prose in it? Re-reading it, I find myself thinking “oh that was a pretty line” and I don’t really say that very often about my own work.

A second honorable mention is the first time ever I saw your face, the Astarion/Tav fic that I actually wanted to write but then fell into the Hazbin Hell pit. Yarrow (my Tav) is just so fucking bizarre, and I think I did decently well with Astarion’s POV and inner monologue. Maybe I will come back to it someday if I pick up BG3 again. I’m so sorry this turned into an essay, but thanks again for the ask and for being a great friend (and making me review my work and think about what I am proud of while I’ve been in such a self-critical rut 🥺🥺🥺 <3 <3 <3)

#my writing #<3 <3 <3 #;;;-;;;

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smokeybrand · 2 years ago

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An Ode to Third Impact

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teddy06writes · 4 years ago

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Jealousy; Turning Saints Into The Sea

requested by this anon: “Hello i really like your writing especially the poly relationships cuz i dont see a lot of those often! I was wondering if you could do a poly Dream x Sapnap X reader request where they are together but Dream and sapnap get jealous of each other because sometimes you spend more time with one of them more than the other”

{Ayo Teddy06 with the Killers reference}

{Yes I just referred to myself in the third person, I’m writing this intro very tired leave me alone}

{Also holy shit you guys thanks for the 600 followers! Why did that even happen?! I did not except to get this popular back in November but here we are, with a bunch of people for some reason enjoying my content?? Idk. Real talk thank you so much for this you guys, every time I get the notification that people are interacting with my stuff it makes me so happy! Thank you all for everything}

Dream x Sapnap x reader

trigger warnings: a few swears

premise: your boyfriends have a tendency to compete for your attention, both typically jealous of whatever separate time the other gets with you

(y/f/f)- your favorite flavor

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“(y/n)! Open the door!”

“Yeah it’s cold out here!”

You sighed, hauling yourself off the couch and heading over to the door, “Did you idiots forget your keys?”

The door swung open to your boyfriends, both with there hands full of groceries, leaving you to scramble out of the way as they started inside, “You do realize you can take multiple trips right?”

“Where's the fun in that?” Nick chuckled.

“Besides, if we did that the Ice cream would melt.” Dream added, setting his bags down.

“You got ice cream?” You asked, “What kind?”

“(y/f/f) obviously.” He scoffed.

Nick elbowed him, “He almost forgot what kind.”

“That’s not true!”

“Is too!”

You rolled your eyes as they continued to bicker, slowly beginning to put away the groceries.

You sighed, letting your head fall down onto your desk.

“You okay?” Nick called.

“Yeah, ‘m just tired of work.”

He leaned into your office, “You should take a break, c’mon, we can make cookies or something.”

You nodded, “You’ve convinced me.”

“Good.” He grinned, grabbing your hand to tug you up out of your seat.

Out in the kitchen you began to grab bowls and ingredients, “So what’s Dream up too?”

“I dunno, probably off manipulating minors on Tommy’s stream.” Nick shrugged, grabbing the sugar off the shelf.

“Rip.” You chuckled.

Soon the cookies were being put in the oven, and you and Nick were laughing happily as you hopped up to sit on the counter.

“You less stressed now?” Nick asked.

You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Yeah.”

He chuckled, pecking at your lips again.

“What the hells going on in here?” Dream asked, having wandered in.

You grinned, “We’re making cookies.”

“Yeah, making cookies.” Dream scoffed.

Nick pointed to the oven, “Yeah we were Green Boy.”

“pfff shut up!” Dream smacked at his hand.

You rolled your eyes at there antics.

“Why are you being like a cat?” You chuckled, running your hands through Dream’s hair.

He smiled from where he was laying with his head in your lap, “Maybe I am one.”

“Ehhhh, I like Patches better.”

“Betrayal!” He exclaimed dramatically.

You grinned, looking up as Nick came out into the living room, “Dude why are you cuddling without me?!”

Dream smirked at him smugly, “What’re you gonna do about it?”

Before Nick could retort you rolled your eyes, “You guys are idiots, I can cuddle two people at once, c’mere.”

Almost reluctantly Nick came to sit on your other side, tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

Everything was quiet for a moment until you asked, “Why’s there so much jealousy lately?”

“Turning saints into the sea.” Dream muttered.

“Swimming through sick lullabies.” Nick chuckled.

“Chocking on your alibi’s.” You added relucantly, holding back a laugh.

“But that’s just the price I pay, destiny is calling me, open up my eager eyes- cause I’m Mr. Brightside!” You all finished together, breaking into laughter.

“I hate you guys sometimes.” You muttered.

“No you don’t.”

“You love us and you know it.”

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagines #dreamwastaken x reader #sapnap x reader #dream x sapnap x reader #dreamnap #dreamnap x reader #teddy06 writes

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lilallama · 4 years ago

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How would the cooking club feel if their s/o got them a promise ring. This would be under the premise of “I dont know if i beleieve in marriage but i beleieve in you, stay with me forever”. Youve mentioned that marriage is important to some of them, like Hobi, how would this go down?

Hoseok

In the palm of your hand rested a small, golden ring. Hoseok eyed the ring in confusion before you continued to explain.

"I don't know if I believe in marriage but I believe in us, stay with me forever."

For a second the man was shocked. He didn't expect that. While the thought of spending his life with you seemed like a blessing what you said left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. "Darling, I believe it's a bit early to decide on such matters." He laughed, "But I also believe in us." He took the ring before pressing a sweet kiss unto your knuckles. He will make you change your mind, sooner or later.

Seokjin

The boy gawked at the piece of jewellery in your hand. It was a very pretty ring, no diamonds but shiny nonetheless.

"I don't know if I believe in marriage but I believe in us, stay with me forever."

Seokjin let out a gasp. "Of course, Prince/Princess! I won't leave you, ever." He purred as he slipped the ring onto his finger, admiring it. "You are simply precious! No need for marriage, it's a celebration for commoners after all, we're above that." As he went on he wrapped you in his arms, pulling you to his chest. Oh, you'd never know how much Seokjin adores you. Wedding or not, you're his favourite and best Prince/Princess.

Yoongi

He felt everything stop as you pulled out a ring. Wasn't it too soon for a proposal, why would someone as stunning as you ever propose to him? Oh wait, you're not proposing..

"I don't know if I believe in marriage but I believe in us, stay with me forever."

What you said left Yoongi speechless. He felt his eyes water and attempted to blink the coming tears away. He sniffled a bit before nodding. "Y- yes. I would love nothing more than that!" He chocked out as he started bawling his eyes out. His body shock as he wrapped his arms around your neck, crying into your shoulder. The poor boy couldn't believe his luck. This must've been the best day of his life!

Namjoon

As you pulled out that small, shiny ring Namjoon's breath hitched. He was in momentary shock before you took his hand.

"I don't know if I believe in marriage but I believe in us, stay with me forever."

What you had said stunned him. He stared at you wide eyed andmouth agape. "Namjoon?" Suddenly he lifted you up and spun around with you. "Of course!" He laughed, exposing his much beloved dimples. Namjoon was so incredibly excited, you wanted to be with him, forever! He wished this moment would last forever. Once he put you down he pressed a quick kiss unto your lips. He will forever cherish this moment.

Jimin

He was giddy the whole afternoon. As he gave you your bag he spotted something that looked like a engagement ring, so he was certain you'd propose. Finally, as you pulled out the ring he'd gasp.

"I don't know if I believe in marriage but I believe in us, stay with me forever-"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" He jumped into your arms and covered your face in kisses. "I knew it. I saw the ring and I thought you'd propose but this is just as perfect!" He giggled and continued to pamper you with kisses. A 'I love you' after each kiss escaping from his mouth. After Jimin continued like that for the next ten minutes you cuddled up together. He rested his head on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you as close as possible to him.

Taehyung

Taehyung's body froze as you pulled out a ring and held it towards him. What were you doing?

"I don't know if I believe in marriage but I believe in us, stay with me forever."

A look of confusion graced the young man's face. "Why, of course I'll stay with you forever, my God/Goddess. I'm here to serve you and fulfill your every wish." But he accepted the ring, nonetheless. "How much was it, I'll pay you ba-" then it hit him. Now Taehyung was even more confused. "You do not believe in marriage, my angel? Why is that?" Don't misunderstand him, he doesn't want to marry you unlessyou request it but he does wonder why you do not believe in a practice of the church.

Jeongguk

He chocked on his water as you pulled out a ring, seemingly out of nowhere. Jeongguk was panicking. Were you proposing? He didn't see that coming, not on that day!

"I don't know if I believe in marriage but I believe in us, stay with me forever."

He exhaled, slightly relieved. So he didn't miss you planning on proposing to him, good. Although, he then realised what you had actually said. "YES!" He jumped up and fist bumped the air, hopping around. "Of course! I love you and I promise that I always will! I love you, only you, just you, no one else!" His bunny- like smile brightened up his entire face as he excitedly started proclaiming wedding vows to you. "I will forever love, hold and cherish you. I vow to always be by your side and protect you from danger, wherever you may go-"

If you liked my work please reblog! 🍑

#yandere bts #cooking club #yandere jimin #yandere jungkook #yandere taehyung #yandere hoseok #yandere namjoon #yandere yoongi #yandere jin #yandere v #yandere suga #yandere rm #yandere jhope

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janekfan · 4 years ago

Link

Click.

Jon,

I trust you’ll have the statement I left for you this afternoon recorded by end of work day tomorrow.

Regards,

Click.

Jon,

If you are to be useful in your position as Archivist, speak to your employees about what it means to research properly. I expect to see marked improvement following your discussion.

Regards,

Click.

Jon,

You must have forgotten to record the statement from last week. I understand. It takes time to settle into a new position. Still, you have new responsibility and you know I hold you in high esteem. Tomorrow will have to do.

Regards,

Click.

Jon,

Apologies for the late notice. Record the statement Rosie provided you prior to your leaving today. It is imperative.

Regards,

Click.

Jon,

Please refrain from spending the night in the Archives. It is a liability. I’m sure you understand.

Regards,

Jon cradled his head in his hands, massaging the tension taking up residence in his temples and rubbing his itchy, aching eyes. These were only the latest in a very long list of emails he could never seem to keep up with. As soon as he made his way through them, reordered his plans for the day, accepted a new assignment from Elias, always given at the very last minute, Jon’s morning was already eaten up. He’d taken to arriving an hour or two early just to give himself more time to organize his plan of attack.

Like clockwork, Martin arrived with a mug of tea prepared exactly the way he preferred it.

“Thank you, Martin.” Gratefully, he cradled the hot ceramic in his palms, waiting until the heat seeping through the walls became nearly unbearable before taking a sip and closing his eyes in the briefest ecstasy. As a researcher Jon doubted he’d get much out of him, at least not for a while. It seemed as though they had something in common--he was as inept at his job as Jon was at his.

“Pardon me for saying, but, Jon, you look terrible.” He felt terrible. Sore and tired and overwhelmed. This new job felt like drowning and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why Elias chose him over Sasha. She had so much experience, was so much more capable.

“I will not. Now, thank you again for the tea. Please return to your desk and continue with the statement I gave you three days ago.” Properly chastised and flushing bright red, Martin stumbled over his farewells as poorly as he stumbled out the door. Jon took a breath that achieved nothing, then took another, trying to clear his head enough to read through a statement. With how far behind he’d fallen he really should read through two but the ones he ended up documenting on those old tape recorders made him feel strange, dazed and drained, like he’d spent the time sprinting instead of speaking. The phone rang, harsh electronic chattering jolting him awake and he glanced frantically at his watch; only a few minutes.

Hell, Jon.

At least pretend you know what you’re doing.

Isn’t that what Georgie always said? Fake it till you make it?

Gingerly, he lifted the phone from its cradle.

“Sims, Archivist.”

“Jon.” Of course. He’d already known. “I trust you’ve had a productive morning.” It was as though he was watching his every move and Jon surreptitiously skimmed over the room, searching for cameras while knowing even if they did exist, he would never find them.

“Y’yes. Yes, of course.” An oily sensation trickled down the seam of his spine and he had a sneaking suspicion that Elias could tell he was lying. “I’ll have that recording up to you straight away.”

“Glad to hear it.” There was amusement there, cold and calculating. Jon didn’t like being played with and Elias reminded him too much of a cat with a mouse. “I’ll be waiting. Jon.” The delicate severing of the line failed to make the watching any less. All the same he plucked the statement off the top of his pile knowing already not to bother with his laptop and sank into the smog and the smoke, gasping as the written words closed over his face and buried him in obscurity.

“Statement ends.” He heaved a breath, shuffled through the notes he did have to allow himself time to get his trembling fingers under control. “Supplemental. Victim does not appear to have any connections to, uh, well, anyone. It appears as though they cut themselves off to family and friends long before their voyage. They have never been found.” Lord, he hoped that would be sufficient for Elias. But he didn’t have any additional information and so it would have to do. Groaning between teeth clenched near hard enough to crack his jaw, Jon pillowed his heavy head on folded arms until the room stopped its spinning. A notification rang out, echoing painfully in the space between his ears.

A new email.

And rather than reading it, Jon took up the tape, packaging it neatly in an envelope on the way out of his office and toward Elias.

Jon,

You recall, of course, your promise the other day. I wish to inquire about the whereabouts of the paperwork I was expecting this morning.

Regards,

Click.

Jon,

Do try to arrive to work on time.

Regards,

Click.

Jon,

Did you forget about our lunch meeting? We shall reschedule.

Regards,

Jon thumbed through the calendar on his phone, disappointing himself with the distinct lack of invites to this mysterious lunch meeting. He went as far as to search his inbox. He’d never delete an email, preferring a papertrail himself, and could not find a thing. But Elias sounded so sure that Jon began to doubt his own memory. He’d been tired, working several late nights in a row. It was possible he forgot. He did that when he failed to write things down. He buried both hands in his curls and pulled. Damn it, all. Jon. Get a hold of yourself. Do your job.

Doggedly and with manic determination, Jon chewed through the stacks of files arranged in order of importance, lessening their number by a considerable amount and he was exhausted. Elias had kept calling with inane and frankly useless information at all the wrong moments, spiking his already rabbiting heart rate because no, he hadn’t yet had a moment to go over the first statement sent along today let alone the following three. Slowing the rise and fall of his chest deliberately, Jon pressed a palm over his upset and sore stomach.

Work was piling up at such a rate that Jon had the brilliant idea of taking home a messenger bag chock-a-block full each night. He’d been told off thrice about falling asleep in the archives and at least when he passed out in his own flat he was caught by couch cushions instead of the solid pine of his cheap desk. Alright, finally. Large, uninterrupted swathes of time in the evenings and on weekends and he was finally, finally catching up with all of his back log. The tight fist of anxiety clutched mercilessly around his lungs and stealing away any chance of a full breath began to loosen. He could do this. He was passable at this job.

He arrived Monday, bright and early, unloading his completed work and filing it all carefully and neatly away. A thing of beauty he took a moment to be proud of.

Until he sat down to check his emails.

Jon,

Statements are the property of the Magnus Institute and should not be removed from the premises. I trust you understand and this oversight will not happen again.

Regards,

Projecting an air of confidence he most certainly did not possess, Jon approached Tim and Sasha with a short stack of files he hoped to divide between them. Understandably, they were cross with him for taking the position even though he really had very little say in the matter. He was hopeful their chilly attitude towards him would thaw over time because he missed them and they were his friends even if they were taking time away from him at the moment. Honestly, he’d like to take time away from himself and his mistakes and the crushing one tonne weight of his inability.

“What can we do you for, boss?” Tim’s new nickname for him didn’t altogether sound like a positive thing but Jon decided there was no use bringing it up. Especially when he’d come to beg favors. His voice got stuck in his throat and he cleared it, apprehensive and wishing he’d never had this idea.

“Hullo.” He nodded to each of them. Why was this so awkward? Because they hate you, you prat. “I’m, I wouldn’t normally ask, I know you’re working hard on the tasks I’ve already assigned you. But. I’m a touch overwhelmed?” He chuffed a laugh, it was either that or sob. “And, if you’re not too busy I. I’m sorry, I just.” As covertly as possible, he blinked away tears. “I need some help.” He held his breath. Swallowed nervously. Worried his bottom lip.

“Sorry boss.” And Tim looked so contrite the crashing guilt broke over Jon like a wave. “I’m still in the middle of the other things you asked me to do.” Sasha was next, tilting her head in sympathy, a small, sad smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“We’re all busy, Jon.” Gently, she spoke, probably trying to spare his feelings. “You should know, being the one passing out the work and all.” Oh. He’d thought. His desk was still piled impossibly high and Sasha and Tim had a few each but. No. Stop it, you know they're better suited to this than you. You know it. Don't blame your friends for your own ineptitude. They’d all been working so hard, he distinctly remembered recording and filing their work and Martin’s.

“Of course, it’s. I’m sorry. I’ll do better in the future.”

“Thanks, boss.”

Wonderful. Now he was trying to offload his own problems by putting undue pressure on his assistants and with as much as he was under he’d have thought he knew better than to burden them like that. It certainly didn’t make his job any easier. But. But he had thought they might be finished on some of the follow through, it had been some time. Okay. Alright. No harm done, not really, he murmured to himself, tucking the files under his arm and retreating to the safety of his office. He could brush off his researching skills and help out, it hadn’t been that long. If he planned better he could alleviate some of their stress.

Jon,

Going forward, I would appreciate if you would check over the work of your assistants to make certain all is well before being recorded and filed.

Regards,

It was a Tuesday.

He knew that because on Tuesdays Martin arrived an hour later. Something to do with taking care of his mum. Without knowing that, Jon wasn’t sure he’d know at all.

His stomach hurt.

There hadn’t been much time for sleeping, not with coming in over the weekend to sort through and double check perfectly adequate research. Why did Elias allow him to choose assistants in the first place then? What was the point if one didn’t trust their expertise? Tim and Sasha didn’t need him double checking their work. Even Martin wasn’t in need of it beyond a few grammar corrections. Regardless, he’d done it and he’d made quick progress. Perhaps he should have been spending his weekends at the Institute this whole time. He shivered, incredibly cold despite extra socks and an additional jumper. Cor, but he was dizzy, barely able to hold his head up on a weak and wobbly neck. Pretty sure he’d forgotten to eat yesterday. Hasn’t yet today and with the pain in his stomach he didn’t plan to. What did he have Sunday? Jon gave up wracking his clouded brain in favor of laying his hot cheek against the cool wood of the desk. Stacks of files and envelopes and notes so high he couldn’t see over them formed thick, impenetrable walls between him and the outside world. Was nice. Focusing his eyes on a brilliant pink tag, Jon let it take up his vision until it swam out of focus and tears slipped over the bridge of his nose, running down his cheek to the scarred surface. It was too easy to cry. He was being overdramatic, whinging because he was incompetant at his job and frightened he would lose it despite doing fuck all to earn it in the first place.

“Jon?” Angrily, he scrubbed the tears away before sitting up. “Oh! There you are. Wow, that’s. Well, that’s a lot of work.”

“I’ve noticed.” Irritated at being caught doing nothing, Jon scowled.

“I. Is there something I can do? To help?” Any closer and he’d surely notice that he’d been crying like a child over their schoolwork. Snapping, Jon let a defensive growl add a sharp, snapping edge to his words they didn’t need.

“Maybe if you spent more time researching and less on making tea.”

“Oh. Y’yes. I--of course.” The man stuttered around his apologies, leaving the tea behind on the corner of his desk before fleeing the room. Well, no surprise there. Jon Sims. Resident arsehole. He let his cheekbone smack into the wood, accepting his worsening migraine as a matter of course, deserving it. Through the valley between two mountainous heaps he could see just the handle of the mug. His favorite mug, if he was prone to those sorts of things.

Jon drank his tea as an apology and let the emails pile up in his inbox and the phone go to voicemail.

“Jon.” With no small measure of difficulty, Jon levered himself upright with brittle stick and string arms. He hurt all over. Sore and stiff and cold. It took conscious effort to pull air into his laboring lungs.

“Elias.” Voice like gravel, he clutched at his painful throat, wincing when tears stung his eyes after a short but intense fit of coughing.

“You look terrible, Jon.” It didn’t sound sincere or worried, more irritated. “Is this why I’ve had to come see you in person? Why you've ignored my correspondence?”

“Uh, y’yes?” Under the close scrutiny of his superior, Jon thought he might pass out, struggling to focus through the sweeping waves of delirious heat rushing through him from top to toes. “I, I’ve been under the, the w’weather?”

“Jon.” Sighing in frustration, he pinched the space between his eyes. “If I cannot trust you to care for yourself, how can I trust you to run my archives?”

“Apologies. It. I won’t let it get this bad again.”

“See that you don’t.” He turned, disappointment clear in the stiff line of his shoulders and the callous tone of his voice. “Take the rest of the day. Another if you require it. You’re useless to everyone as you are.” If Jon had been capable of it at the moment, he would have been shocked. As it was, he was filled to bursting with humiliation, shivering in his chair and trying to think of the steps it took to get home from here. His assistants crowded within the frame of the door, expressions displeased with him and he wanted for one moment not to feel watched. Not when he was so, so, so useless. Already his face was hot with embarrassment and shame, tears pooling in his eyes and god forbid he let them fall. He stood, hip knocking into the wooden edge hard enough to bruise and Jon had to catch himself on a filing cabinet when the room tilted abruptly on its axis, nearly taking him with it. A cacophony of noises and sounds and echoing commotion blocked up his ears. He ignored their faux concern, their questions, pushing them out before they had a chance to come in and locking the door behind them.

“Jon--” Tim. The rattling knob.

“Leave.” Staggering to his chair, he collapsed, curling tight around the blazing ache at the core of him.

“Jon, you’re, you’re not well.” He knew. And was useless because of it. He didn’t need to be reminded.

“Pease leave.” So, so sick, about to be sick, can’t move, can’t breathe, everything numb, numb, numb. Let him be alone so he can gather his things, deal with the ever present chanting in his mind.

Failure, failure, failure.

“Damn it, Tim. We, we took this too far.” Faint sounds of muffled arguing faded further and further into the distance until he was left with only Martin’s fidgeting silhouette in the frosted glass of the window. He couldn’t stay upright, nauseated and unsteady and when he fell forward, vision blacked, body heavy, an avalanche of paperwork flowed over the precipice with the rest of him.

“Hey, Jon, Jon.” Unfamiliar hands roamed where they oughtn't, tilted him this way and that and he moaned because that was a sure fire way to upset the tentative agreement he had made with his stomach. “Jon!” Insistent, persistent, incessant.

“Go…” thick, nigh incomprehensible.

“There you are, now.” Martin, his palm blessedly cool and sweeping back clinging, irritating curls from where they’d stuck to his clammy skin. “You’re burning up, Jon.” Pity. He didn’t want pity. He just wanted to be left alone and tried to say it, ended up coughing instead, hugging himself desperately to stop the fire poker stabbing into his gut. “Hush, let’s get you sorted. Get you home so you can rest proper.” Drifting, he sensed more than saw Martin step out, closing the door behind him.

“How is he?”

“Not well.”

“What does that mean, Martin?”

“Means I need to get him home and into bed.”

“How can we help?”

“You didn’t want to help him before.”

“That--you know--!”

Out of earshot, out of body, out of mind, out of, out of…

Touch, soft and careful, lifted that thin veil of sleep, pulled him up by protesting shoulders, and he couldn’t stop the cry forced between his teeth at being unfolded.

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin tugged him until he was leaned against his side and held a glass to his lips, tipping water by mouthfuls, chastising Jon not unkindly when he chased it. “Slow, slow now. Or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“S’...um. I.” Thoughts fluttered like moths, all too quick for him to catch, in and out of the dark, seemingly out of nowhere, disappearing into nowhere.

“It’s alright. Take these, good man.” But he wasn't. He was bad. At his job. At people. At, at everything. Pills, bitter and chalky on his tongue, washed down with more water. “Jacket, good, good, I know.” Every action’s difficulty had increased one hundred fold and Jon latched onto Martin’s voice like it was a lifeline. “Okay, I’ve called a cab.”

“Can’...you can’t…”

“You can buy me a coffee, Jon. Pay me back if you have to but the train isn’t the place for you right now.” So lightheaded, so very lightheaded, if Martin hadn’t been there he’d be making acquaintance with the tile, he was sure. “I should take you to A&E. I really don’t like how you look.”

“No, no. Jus’...sleep.” A noncommittal hum filled him with worry. He wanted to go home.

“Alright, Jon. Alright.” Though his surroundings were a blur, Jon thought he saw Tim and Sasha when Martin whisked him to the lift but he couldn’t be sure. It hurt to walk, to move and he buried his face in Martin’s broad shoulder for the duration of the ride, breathing shallow and slow to stave off the carsickness.

Something cold and wet settled over his forehead and he struggled to open his eyes, staring up at a familiar ceiling, still dressed in his work clothes, sans wingtips.

“Welcome back.”

“Wh’where’d I go?” Martin’s hands were moving sections of his hair, plaiting it he realized after a long moment.

“So it stays out of your face, you don’t seem to like it.”

“Mm…” He didn’t, and the effort it took to put it up hadn’t been worth it lately.

“Should I stop?”

“No. Nice.” He was feeling marginally better now that he was laying down and out of the archives and away from the overwhelming pressure and stress. The shame was there, its blinding brightness dulled by distance and time and the fingers combing out the tangles calmed his thoughts.

“Sorry, sorry, love, I know you were having a nice sleep.” More medicine, diluted tea with sugar. Jon fumbled with his belt, uncomfortable, couldn’t get his fingers to do what he wanted, and didn’t remember taking off his slacks or his jumper or layers of socks or his button down leaving him in his loose undershirt. His heavy quilt was pulled up, he was tucked in, warm, comfortable.

“Okay, just breathe.” Jolted awake and bent double over his throbbing stomach, Jon’s back heaved with the force of a barking fit. “Here, another dose.”

“Mah…”

“You’re alright. Let the medicine work.” The damp flannel was back, sweeping over his flushed skin, ridding it of its disagreeable stickiness. Down his throat, over shuddering collarbones, cheeks, brow, repeat, slow, even, methodical.

Over and over and over…

“Jon!” Dark, smothering dark, hands, striking like snakes in, out, everywhere, trying to hold him down, trying to keep him still, from getting up. “Jon, hey, hey, shh.” Panting, can’t. Coughing, not enough, choking. What, what... who… he. Work. He had work to finish? Have, so. Elias was, was angry, disappointed? Pinned, arms close, soft, warm, behind. Up and down. And. Sick...he was. “Shh, it’s alright, s’alright.”

“Mah…’in. W’why, ah.” How was he supposed to finish...he had to finish but there’s so much how. How. When he was...

“Hush, Jon. Hush. Don’t worry about any of that archiving nonsense right now. When you're well, when we go back I’ll help you sort through that mess.”

“Don’, don’need h’help.”

“It’s fine if you do.” Martin’s kind, soft tone was enough to make the sorrow spill over and lightly calloused fingers brushed them away. “It is, Jon. I, I know I’m not the best yet, but I want to help.”

“T’Tim and Sasha...even, it’s. Too much on you all.”

“It’s too much for you.” For one frantic, delusional moment Jon believed Elias had sent Martin here to dismiss him. That he wasn’t even worth letting go in person and he panicked, distraught.

“No! No! I can, I can do this! I ca--” Fire erupted, coursed through flayed open veins when he coughed, gasped, tasted iron against his teeth. Sobbed. Then Martin hugged him and it should have been awful because Jon didn’t do hugs but he returned it anyway. “I was asking too much.” Hoarse and choked and sad. No one should feel like he did, at the end of a rope knotted too much like a noose, and he’d gone ahead and done it to Tim and Sasha and overloaded them with more and more and more work and then he tried to add even more because he couldn’t handle his own damn job and, and--!

“Jon! You weren’t asking enough.”

“They, you, were so busy, I, I couldn’t--”

“Jon, love, I need you to listen to me.” When he made to interrupt, Martin settled him back into the pillows and took his hand in a loose hold Jon was free to escape. He didn’t understand. “Tim and Sasha. They were having a go at you.” That didn’t sound right. They were. They were friends. “Pretending to be slow, putting the pressure on their new boss.” The sharp shock of electric grief cracked through his breastbone as though it were a lightning rod and he wasn’t grounded.

“Y’you’re lying.” He had to be. And Jon wasn’t the best at interpreting these sorts of things on a good day but he had to be. He had to be because they, they were friends. They wanted to help, they said.

“They were upset with you, I suppose.” His fingers tightened around Martin’s hand and he returned it. “I don’t think they meant it to go this far. I don’t think they really understood what Elias was asking of you.”

“Why?” Broken, shaking so violently he nearly bit his tongue. “Why would they? What did, I didn’t mean to be chosen. I didn’t mean it Martin, I didn’t, I never. I.”

“I know.”

“Elias, he. He didn’t--” Pathetic. He barely knew Martin and the man was in his flat, in his room, consoling him because his coworkers couldn’t stand their new boss.

“I don’t want you to think about it right now.” Helpless, hopeless, Jon looked up at him. “I want you to sleep.” Martin cupped his jaw and brushed the tears away with two balanced sweeps of his thumbs and Jon clung to his wrists. “Try to sleep, things will be better in the morning. I promise, Jon. I promise.” It didn’t feel like it could ever be better. But sleep sounded good. Sleep and he could forget about it for a little while. Martin tucked stray curls back away from his face, into the messy plait, talked about nothing, poetry, the dog he’d let run into the archives forever ago. Jon let him, trying not to think about anything else. Following the currents of his voice down, down, down, where the weight of tide dragged him under.

“Your fever is still higher than I’d like.” Jon frowned. He wanted to be miserable alone but in the end he slept when he could, when his worsening stomach ache let up, and watched Martin tidy his cluttered flat through half lidded eyes. He snapped awake when the door closed thinking he’d finally had enough of his sour mood and left. But no. He’d gone to the Tesco down the street to purchase him some essentials and was coming back. Jon missed him leaving. He was irritated with Martin for taking his phone even though it was probably for the best. The emails kept coming, enough to bury him, and his vision was swimming so badly he could barely read them anyway.

Still, he couldn't help but think about the archives and the new statements that no-doubt waited for his return. They’d be further behind now, out one terrible archivist and one archivist’s assistant all because he couldn’t take care of himself properly.

“Are you sure you feel well enough?” Martin was helping him take slow, unsteady steps to the kitchen table where his laptop resided. “You’re so pale.”

”Can’afford to waste more time.” He could glance through some emails. He was well enough for that. Probably.

“That didn’t answer the question.” It ended up being a waste anyway. He was too dizzy to sit up let alone read and Martin did him the kindness of not saying “I told you so.” Currently, Jon was leaning his temple on the chilly glass of the dirty window and Martin was fixing some tea for him. He didn’t want it, worried that if he moved or even thought about food or drink he’d lose his tenuous battle with the nausea. He jumped when Martin touched his shoulder, closing his eyes when it just hurt. “You’re shaking.”

“Mm. C’cold.”

“Back to bed.” Jon shook his head. He couldn’t. “You need to rest.”

“Can’t…” He folded thin arms over his middle. He was being lifted to his feet, the room blinked in and out and his mouth flooded with salt.

“Jon?” There was fear in Martin’s voice but he couldn’t alleviate it, not when he was trying to keep still, keep from collapsing then and there. “Jon? Ambulance is on the way. It’s alright, it’ll be alright, hang on.” He didn’t mean to be sick but his lips wouldn’t form the shapes of his apologies.

Red.

Bright red

A gout of it coating his tongue in copper.

“Jon!”

“S’sor…” His legs gave way with another gush, there was pain but he couldn’t pinpoint it, falling, slow, drifting like leaves cradled in autumn wind. Clothes soaked and tacky with carmine buds blossoming, blooming, growing, fields of poppies spreading from him to Martin and pressure, pressure, pressure on his hands.

Frozen.

Wet warmth traced the contour of his jaw and the uneven pounding, pounding, pounding of his heart drowned out all else as it tried to escape the cage of his ribs.

Flashes of light, sound, lifted, his connection with Martin severed and he choked on rubies instead of his name.

Speaking. Wouldn’t answer, couldn't the cloying smell of iron lay thick all over this place. Didn’t want to be here.

A sticky toffee grip. Squeeze can’t feel it.

Jon Jon Jon the chirp of birds calling shouting screaming warning him of what comes next cold in his skin in his veins the dark takes all and gives nothing back.

Bright white blazing phosphorescent fire burning burning no one is coming to save him from the shadows hemming him in trapping him under swaying shifting indifferent lights that blind his eyes and pull cherry sweet claret from his insides with a fishhook.

Lashes lined with lead fought against the weight of muffled murmuring, the piping trill of electric monitors, but there’s only soft dusk dim and exquisite detachment. Nowhere, nothing hurts and his sum total is velvet wool and fleece and he sleeps.

The distinction between dream and wakefulness was little more than a gauzy veil but Jon thought he recognized Martin and Tim and Sasha and when he could he forced his clumsy apologies, inadequate though they may be, through jumbled words, slurred and stuttered and slow and he was sorry he’d gone and made such a mess of things and he’d fix it if he could, it they told him how, he’d do anything, just please don’t hate him.

Soft sounds, familiar sounds, kind sounds. A thick blanket of cloud and cool fog and…

Jon woke with a mouth full of cotton and a dull pain somewhere in the vicinity of his middle. When he lifted his arm the tug of an itchy catheter in the back of his hand drew his attention to the leads and the lines leading to bags of fluids refracting prisms built by bright beams streaming into the room between gaps in the shades.

“Hey.” The relief Jon felt in hearing Martin’s voice was too complicated to think about so he didn’t. Instead trying to dredge up a smile from somewhere as he sat next to him. “You’ve been awake a few times. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t remember.” He blinked.

“I--ah.” Wincing, Jon put a hand to his throat when speaking was akin to gargling glass, and he accepted the water Martin offered gratefully, as well as the help of his steady hand. “I, I don’t.”

“The fever has just started to go down. Lowest it’s been today I think.”

“You’ve…”

“After work. Just to check in. ‘Bout a week now.” The surprise must have shown on his face because Martin knit his brow. “It was touch and go there for, for a little while. But, you’re on the mend.”

“I d’didn’t...what did, what?”

“Well. Jon. An ulcer, first of all. From stress--exceedingly rare mind you. Which worsened when you began getting ill.” That, that made sense. “And, uh. I don’t know if you remember the day it happened.”

“Not really, no.” Snapshots of time sure, but nothing concrete and when Martin explained he’d lost what he thought was a litre of blood on his kitchen floor and another all over himself Jon had no rebuttal. “Was. I thought I saw?”

“Tim and Sash? Yeah. They visited a few times.” There was more there, just unspoken, and Jon didn’t push him for anything else.

Jon was trembling with fatigue after the doctor did their poking and prodding and sent him on a painful jaunt down the hall with Martin and his IV stand as his chaperones, leaning more and more of his weight on his arm. Another day saw him discharged and home for the weekend with Martin to fuss and fret and force him to follow instructions to the letter.

“Boss.” Tim’s chair nearly tipped over with how fast he was on his feet. “You, are you sure you should be?” Weakly he gestured to the office, concern evident in his haggard face. Sasha composed herself with a bit more decorum, actions careful and precise.

“Jon, maybe you should take more time away.” When she stepped toward him, he stepped back. He was capable of doing his job; please let him do it. “We understand if you--”

“I’ve recovered well enough. Thank you both. For y’your concern.” Ducking his head he retreated into his office, not sure what to expect from the state of it and surprised when he was faced with only statements to record organized by length and supplemental research. The heaps of papers he’d accumulated over his short tenure were all but gone and while it ameliorated the panic he’d lied about to Martin, it also proved the man was right.

Tim and Sasha.

Best not to dwell.

There was work to be done.

“Let me get that for you.” Sasha reached past Jon before he could even extend his arms toward the box. “Martin told us not to let you lift anything.” Traitor. Speaking of, a fresh cup of tea rested beside a new translation. Passable. After the tea, he had the strength to log into his email for the first time.

Jon,

I trust you are ready to begin recording statements. Please do so at once. Your assistants have proved themselves capable enough in your absence to not require such close supervision.

Do well on your promise. Do not let this happen again.

Regards,

Jon exhaled, the tension seeping out of his body replaced by profound weariness. When he blinked awake, covered in the throw from the break room, Martin magically appeared with another cuppa.

“Nice nap?” He suppressed a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, as Martin suppressed a smile. “Pain?”

“Not bad.”

“So, not good?”

“I’m fine, Martin.”

“Glad to hear it!” Tim’s bright tone and appearance were surprising but more surprising was the container of soup in his hands. “Followed Martin’s instructions, boss. Lemme know what you think.” Jon wasn’t even sure what expression he threw towards the man holding out the fresh tea but he was certain there was very real fear there and by the time he’d recovered Martin patted his hand and left him to lunch.

To be fair, Tim was a good cook.

Jon took a deep breath and cleared his throat to gain the attention of all three of his assistants.

“As we are all. Aware. I was ill recent--”

“You nearly died!”

“Nothing of the sort.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“That’s not what your doctor said!”

“My doctor shouldn’t have divulged anything.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m alright, now. I’m fine.” He looked at each of them individually. “This was a, a perfect storm, nothing more.” Jon understood that they were upset and didn't want to be around him. They didn't have to, to like him. “We should have spoken before, I should have. I know you’re angry with me.” This time he held up a stern hand to halt them. “And I may have no right to ask, but I need help if I’m to have a chance at doing this job. I. I chose you because.” Nerve lost, he glanced at his wingtip shoes, counted the worn scuff marks. Be a boss, Jonathan. “We worked well together. Before. And. I wanted to apologize.” Deep breath, a decisive nod. “I hope we can develop a positive working relationship moving forward.”

“Jon, Jon, no. Don’t apologize. This. This is our fault. I was upset and Tim and I we, we didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“You couldn’t have known Elias was. Burying me.”

“We would have if we’d asked after you. If we’d given you the time of day. When the Big Boss came down to personally boot you out of the office you. You looked like hell. And then Martin said--” he had the sense to look sheepish when Jon glared at him.

“Is there no hope of keeping anyone’s confidence?”

“No, probably not. We were so worried.” Tim provided.

“And when we visited. All we did, Jon, you were so upset.” Everpresent, the shame colored his face.

“I. I don’t remember much.”

“Let us help.” Gingerly, Sasha touched his shoulder. “Properly this time.”

“A team!” Tim slung his arm over his other shoulder and gestured with a wide hand. Both of them were taking such pains to be careful with him and Jon wondered how much Martin had told them. “Like the old days, plus Marto here. Resident boss saver and tea maker.”

“Tim.” The ache in his chest lifted, lightened for the first time since he’d been handed this department.

“Come on, boss. Let us pamper you.”

“I will not!”

“It doesn’t look like you have much of a choice.” And Tim and Sasha embarrassed him further with a gentle hug.

“Martin’s right, Jon. You really don’t.”

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eamesandbellamyaremyheaven · 5 years ago

Text

Somewhere, Now and Then Ch2 || Arthur x Sansa (Kalots/GoT Outlander AU)

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword x Game of Thrones Outlander AU (there’s no such thing as canon)

Warnings: Violence, blood, mention of non-con

Summary: England, 1945. After serving in the war as a nurse, Sansa Bolton (former Stark) seizes the opportunity of going on vacation with her husband Ramsay to rekindle their relationship. But what happens when Sansa finds herself travelling back in time, to the 6th century, where she meets the King Arthur and his Knights?

A.N.//- Needless to say, this is loosely based on the Outlander premise. The story is told through Guy Ritchie’s interpretation of the Arthurian legend, and for that locations and traditions - and the time itself - had to be adapted to work accordingly. Any questions you have, feel free to ask!

Prologue || Chapter One

Chapter Two - Mistakes

Sansa opened her eyes slowly, regaining consciousness, and only then she noticed she was lying on the floor, next to the stone. She got up quickly, walking away from the circle of stones towards the road.

She must’ve fainted, she thought to herself, lost likely due to the excitement created by her transgression.

Sansa stopped abruptly, looking around her. She should be by the car then, but the vehicle was no where to be seen, and there was no asphalt lane on sight either. Had she passed the road already? Doubtful. The stones were settled on flat lands, there’s no possible way she could have walked right by the road without seeing it.

Maybe she had walked in the opposite direction. Sansa strode hastily towards the stones, and right through them on a straight line, taking a few more steps into the woods before stumbling on her own foot.

The road had disappeared. How was that possible? Roads don’t simply seize to exist. Maybe she was hallucinating. Maybe she had come across some poison flower or herb that had caused her disorientation. That sounded reasonable. She should just stay put, and wait for someone to come and look for her. But how long could it take? No one knew she was missing, and no one could’ve guessed she would be by the stones.

Sansa decided not to wait, then - mistake number one.

She would later come to the realization that she had made a lot of mistakes that day.

She looked around for a while, pondering on her options. If she simply walked through the woods in a straight line, she might ended up finding the lodge they were in, or in the least she would end up finding someone she could ask for help.

So, she walked.

She must’ve walked for a couple hours - the sun was setting higher - when she heard voices not far from her. She then fasten her pace, wondering in said voices might belong to her family, that after noticing her absence had come looking for her.

Sansa was running now, her mantle hanging loose on her arms, as she became closer the voices grew louder and restless.

She found herself on higher ground, looking down to a small stream, and the man that stood by it.

Uncle Petyr.

Sansa stepped down from the small hill carefully, trying not to slip on the mud. She’d been so happy to see a familiar face, or any face at all, for that matter, that she ignore all of her self-preservation instincts, specially that loud voice inside of her that yelled something’s wrong.

That was until Petyr reeled swiftly on his feet as he pulled up a large bow, shooting a fast arrow that hit a man on his chest with a thud, and the man fell on the floor, chocking on the blood that gushed from his mouth.

Sansa gasped, frozen in place. Her heart was beating out of control, and only at that moment, as the adrenaline kicked in, she could see all the deviations she’d ignore before. The man looked identical to her uncle, yes, but his hair was longer and untamed. His clothes were archaic, medieval maybe? Was her family having a laugh at her expense, pranking her with some humorless practical joke? Had she stumbled upon a festival ceremony, a war reenact, that somehow her uncle was taking part of? She wanted to believe so, as any fool would, but Sansa was no fool. She knew well the smell of blood, she had it with her everyday for three years, and she would never be able to erase it from her mind.

The man, whom she was most certainly sure was not Petyr, had heard her approaching - if not, he definitely heard her gasp - and spun around, facing her, bow armed and aiming.

Everything became a blur, as she went into shock. Her breath became erratic, as everything around her seemed to be spinning in slow motion.

The faux Petyr looked at her, confused, as he lowered the bow, asking her something she couldn’t hear due to the drumming of her pulse. He tried to walk to her, but she backed away, stumbling on rocks and loose branches.

Suddenly something else caught his attention, as two men came out of the shadows, axes and swords aimed high. The archer easily evaded their attack, and as he struggled with them Sansa took the chance to ran as far away from that horrible scenery as her feet allowed her.

Sansa kept glancing over her shoulder, to make sure no one was coming after her, that she forgot to see what’s ahead of her, colliding harshly against someone. She stumbled back, as she’d lost her balance form the impact, and she would had fallen if that someone hadn’t steadied her in place, his hands pulling her waist roughly against him.

“What do we have here?” he asked, pulling her close as she tried to free herself “A pretty girl, with a pretty red-hair...” He spoke with an heavy accent, as he moved his fingers along a few hair strands. The man looked exactly like what she expected from a Saxon warrior - strongly built, with a long and unkempt mane and beard as light as sand, rugged leather and heavy fur covering his body, and a strong scent of beer, sweat and horse shit that had Sansa holding a gag, as his hand went from her hair to the outlines of her face.

“Let me go!” Sansa’s voice is low and menacing, as she kneed him in the crotch, making him let go of her as he struggled to stay upright

Sansa tried to ran away, but she hadn’t made very far when she felt his arm pulling her back, and towards the ground. She struggled to set herself free, but he had her pinned down with his body, his hands pressing her wrists. His eyes are feral as he leans down over her, and as she turned her face away, dodging his kiss, he settled his chapped lips on her neck, and at the same time he brought one hand down, lifting her skirt and squeezing her thigh.

That small distraction was all Sansa needed to use her free hand to reach for a rock nearby and bash it against the man’s temple, whom quickly rolled off of her, screaming in pain.

Sansa struggled to rise herself from the ground, her body was sore and tired, but as she did her attacker was already in front of her, with blood streaming down from the cut under his eyebrow, and a fire in his eyes that meant he wanted to see her bleed.

“English bitch!” he slapped her across the face, hard. Sansa fell on the floor, powerless from the blow, instinctively setting her cold hand against her burning cheek. The man throttled towards her with malice intent, but she would not give up without a fight. When he was right in front of her, ready to do what he wanted, she kicked him on his knee, making him loose his balance.

Sansa got up quickly this time, just in time to see a third person approaching, fast. He held a long sword in his hands, engraved with runes that seemed to glow as he took a stronger grip on the leather handle. Was the blow on her cheek so strong that she was seeing things?

The swordsman made a swift motion with his sword, sweeping from side to side, pulling it closer to his shoulders right after. Her attacker gasped, his eyes opened wide. His head, now detached from the rest of his body, slid down from his neck and rolled onto the ground, only coming to a stop by Sansa’s feet, whom grunted, with repulse, as she quickly kicked it to the side.

The stranger in front of her chuckled at that as he advanced in her direction, but Sansa stepped back, with her eyes set on the weapon on his hand, creating a comforting distance between her and the armed man.

“It’s okay, I mean no harm” The man said, as he put the sword back to its leather sheath, and held his hands up, a simple gesture of surrender “What are you doing alone in the woods, dressed only with a...” he pointed to her bloodied and dirty dress “...nightgown?”

“It’s none of your business!” she tried to sound fearless, but her frail voice betrayed her

“Alright, then, have it your way” he added with a smile, as he sat down on a rock with slow movements, placing his right hand inside his jacket against his left side ribs, frowning as he pulled it out and saw it painted red.

“You’re bleeding” Sansa noted, her medical training kicking in immediately, but still she hesitated, and did not move. He had helped her, by beheading a man. He seemed harmless, but the dead man would beg to differ.

“Vikings are hard to kill” he replied, with a sly grin, which made her instinctively arch her brow. Was he seriously cracking jokes as he bled to death?

“I can help you, I’m a nurse” Sansa said, as she walked towards him. He looked confused “An healer. May I?”she pointed, and as he nodded she sat down on her knees in front of him.

He took his jacket off, allowing her better access to the wound. She rose his shirt carefully, just high enough for her to see the source of the blood.

Her eyes were focused on the cut. His eyes were focused on her.

Footsteps echoed from the tree lines, waking them both from their trance. A man came rushing in, the same man that looked like Petyr but wasn’t.

“Ah, I see that you’ve found my ghost” he joked at first, but his face changed instantly as he saw the man’s condition “Are you hurt?”

“It’s not deep, it’ll only require a couple stitches. But I have to clean it first.” Sansa spoke, as she tore the hem of her skirt and used it as gauze.

The archer looked at her, astonished, and then back at the swordsman, who grinned at him in response

“She’s an healer” the swordsman vexed

At that Sansa pressed the cloth a little harshly, and the man winced, just like she knew he would.

A thin smile appeared on the archer’s lips as he spoke “I’m gonna get the boys, we’ll set camp here” he turned to leave, but then turned back “You should’ve stayed at the castle like I told you to”

“Bill, just go already!”

“I’m going, I’m going...” the archer, Bill, replied, but before he moved he looked down at Sansa “Take good care of our Majesty, if you please”

“Bill!” he swordsman yelled exasperated, and Bill walked away, boastful.

Sansa couldn’t help but laugh at that interaction, forgetting momentarily the strangeness of her surroundings. She pulled the fabric away from the cut and folded it in reverse, inspecting the wound. The flow had almost stopped, she could tend the cut now, but she decided to wait for Bill to come back with the group, they had medical supplies, certainly. So she sat the dry side of the cloth back on the man’s ribs, only then noticing how his eyes followed her every movement.

Sansa cleared her coarse throat “Are all people this formal around you, or is it like a petname?”

Now it was his time to laugh, and he did so loud and cheeky, clearly amused by her boldness.

“You can call me Arthur”

Taglist is OPEN! @anonymousme86

#sansa x arthur #sansa stark #arthur pendragon #king arthur legend of the sword #game of thrones #outlander au #time travel au #crossover #sansa stark fanfiction #sansa stark imagine #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon fanfiction #eabamh masterlist

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menotsane · 3 years ago

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A cheesy yet heartwarming story about 2 lost childhood friends.

Boys love content. Title: Stuck With You

Chapter 1: The First Encounter

Lee Ji Ahn sitting on his chair crafting something from wood suddenly hears a voice outside from his room: "young master, it's time for your school, breakfast is ready and ma'am is waiting for you outside in the car". After glancing a bit on CCTV camera the old lady with white hairs wearing a brown apron walks away with a disappointment face. She is the housekeeper. Lee Ji Ahn stands and walks towards window where he sees the car. He removes his white apron and carry his school bag and walks downstairs, picks a piece of bread and exits the house to enter the car.

Meanwhile in the car:

Ji Ahn's mom talking on the phone: yes I know it's too early to send him to school but as his psychiatrist said it's necessary for him to encounter people so that he can overcome his social anxiety disorder.

Other voice on the phone(Ji Ahn's dad): okay then. I will not argue. I'll return to korea next week. Take care of Jake(nickname of Lee Ji Ahn).

[I'll be using "Jake" instead of Lee Ji Ahn].

Jake enters the car.

"Jake can't you remove your cap, it's not good to wear in school premises" Jake's mom said with low voice.

Jake ignores, sets his cap by pressing the outer area of cap and looks outside with disagreement.

Jake's mom sighs and drives the car to school.

[Meanwhile in H community]

Alarm rings and a hand raises to shut it.

"Ahh, let me sleep more"

Suddenly realizes and wakes up with wide eyes looking at the time in the clock: "oh sh*t I'm late"

Runs to bath and dress up.

"Grandma is breakfast ready? I'm getting late" Kim Ji-hoon cries loud.

"Ohho sleepy head. I'm not like you. The breakfast is already on time. Get down and have it" old lady in her 60's says in a giggling voice.

"Hahah, when will you stop teasing him" grandma's husband said.

After having breakfast, kim Ji-hoon runs towards the veranda when her grandma said "kai don't run you will fall"

(Kai is Kim Ji-hoon's nickname so I'll be using kai as these short names are easy to remember)

Kai runs while crying in his mind: I hope I'm not too late.

Suddenly he stops and steps back when he sees 3 other classmates and one teacher standing at school gate.

Kai gestures a boy at gate that keep talking to teacher and I'll hop the wall.

"Do well at school and try to converse to students okay" Jake's mom said while looking at Jake.

Jake nods and walks toward the school gate.

When kai runs to towards the near by cafe he collides with Jake and falls on his hip while Jake falls on his left arm.

"Ouch my hips" kai said in painful manner and looks towards Jake who was rubbing his arm without any expression on his face.

For a meanwhile kai's eyes sticks on Jake. His skin is white with dark eyes, bowl haircut with black shade wearing a white cap. Jake stands looks at kai and walks away. Kai comes to his senses and realizes to say sorry but then jake was gone and suddenly notices the time in his wrist watch and runs to cafe.

Kai says in hurry: "hyung(big brother in korean) keep my bag with you and I'll take it after school. I love you. You are soooooo nice"

"You don't need to say these cheesy lines. It's not like I'll not help you. Just don't be late tomorrow or your teacher will kick your ass" the cafe owner said.

Kai reaches to the school wall, climbs with a funny expression which shows as it is very hard to climb but he is our trouble maker boy, nothing can stop him.

Meanwhile the teacher was scolding the late students, behind the students Jake was standing watching Kai walking silently same as when a tiger walks towards its prey. But the teacher catches Jake's glance and turns behind and yells: "Kim Ji-hoon this is the first day of new semester and you are late. You all are seniors this year when will you change your habits?"

Kai freezes in a frightful expression.

"A-Actually sir I-I was going to washroom" kai said.

"Oh really? Then show me where is the bathroom in outer campus? Don't try to fool me understood".

"But sir even this student is late(referring to Jake) and he isn't wearing is school uniform too but you are still not scolding him. Isn't it partiality?" One of the three late students said in a criticism manner.

"Yes yes. This is partiality sir". Kai said with low voice.

"You all shut up. He is a new student. Don't make your own assumptions".

"You three including Ji-hoon will get punishment. Write a apology letter and announce it in assembly on the stage".

"Huh sirrrrr? But why. We can only write some 'sorry' words. Why there is a need of announcing it on stage? Kai asked in a denial way.

"You all are now seniors. You are promoted to 11th standard. And still ask for writing only sorry words. Don't make me laugh. Do as I said. Now go back to your classes. Fast"

"And the new student please follow me to the office".

Jake follows the teacher.

"Big boss kai(students calls kai as big boss because of his troublemaking personality) how do you get all these excuses. Why can't we think of one at this time?" Kai's best friend Sung ho said.

"That is why I'm big boss dude. Just shut it and help me walk to the class. I sprained my ankle".

Kai and other students enters the class.

[Students murmuring in class.]

"Oh big boss. Finally you arrived". Kai's female best friend Eun byul cried.

"Ahh I'm doomed because of that mute guy. So frustrating". Big boss said while sitting on his bench.

After awhile their homeroom teacher enters the class.

"Good morning teacher"

"Good morning class. Take your seats. Today we have a new student. Come inside".

Jake enters the class holding the school uniform and stands on the teacher's stage.

[Meanwhile kai sighs looking at Jake, "Ahh did I do something wrong in my past life".]

"Okay. Introduce yourself to the class"

Jake picks the chock and writes his name on the blackboard "리지안" - lee ji ahn (sorry if there's mistake in that word actually I'm learning korean and I didn't use any translator). Places the chock back to its place and stands straight without saying any word. The teacher and other students looks at Jake with waiting to listen but he didn't say a word. The teacher tells him to take his seat.

He sits in the last right corner of the row near the window and diagonal to kai. Kai looks back and sighs again and makes a goofy face.

Jake after looking at kai brings back his eyes and presses his cap to set it up and rubs the "spherical shaped" solid wooden carved object in his hand(sorry I didn't mention it in the starting of the story when he picks his bag after removing his apron) and looks outside of the window.

The teacher orders students to assemble in ground for the assembly where kai and other 3 students has to speak the apology letter.

"My name is Kim Ji-hoon from class 11 of section B. I regret my bad habits and I want to apologize to teachers and principal mam. I'll not be late next time and will follow tight schedule. But I want to complain about our teacher's partiality. He didn't scold Lee Ji Ahn who was also late and even didn't wear school uniform. This is totally wrong. I want to strike against this. Please consider my words".

[Jake was sitting in class looking at Kai]

After listening this, whole assembly started hooting and clapping and the teachers looked at kai in anger and the homeroom teacher runs and grabs the mic and started giving lectures and sends back students to their class.

[In the class]

"I think I should apologize to Ji Ahn for the morning when we collided" kai thought while looking at Jake.

Meanwhile Sung ho stood and walks towards Jake.

"Hey bro I'm Sung ho" Sung ho greeted while raising his hands to shake.

*silence* Jake didn't speak and started rubbing the round wooden object in his hand.

"Huh?" Sung ho, Eun byul and big boss said.

"I-I'm sorry" suddenly Jake stands, looks down and walks outside the class.

"What's wrong with him?" Sung ho said while scratching his head.

"Maybe he got afraid because of your monster like voice" Eun byul said in a giggling voice.

Big boss runs after Jake.

Jake was washing his face and kai said: "well I don't apologize so easily but I was at fault in morning. So....I'm sorry for my mistake".

"It's okay" Jake said with expressionless face while putting his cap back on his head.

"Huh?. What is this? I just ran after you to apologize and you didn't even look at me. What does this mean?...never mind"

Kai heads back to the class and Jake stands still while looking at kai's back.

#romance #gay boys #boys love #lgbtlove

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vedj-f-bekuesu · 5 years ago

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You know what? I know I only did Hunted yesterday, but March of the Oni is only four episodes long so heck yeah I blitzed that too.

A little background before I actually cover my thoughts; March of the Oni feels just as much like old Ninjago before my entrance into the fandom as the other seasons. The truth is that it isn’t; I got into LEGO again because of watching TLM2 about mid-late February. I then went nosing around other LEGO branches a month later in March, which covered things like Friends, Clutch Powers, LCU, Nexo Knights and Ninjago. By the time I reached that, it was around the time March of the Oni was airing, so I got to see the reactions to the season in real time. Of course, I couldn’t really join in because I didn’t watch it with them.

But now I have, and it’s honestly rather fun, if not a bit weird. There is one obvious issue, but I think we can predict what that is. But enough of a history chat, I’ll get into my season note write-up!

-The characters are pretty on point even with the lighter tone. At its heart this is a focus on Lloyd to wrap up his plot, and Lloyd is just fine here. He obviously spends a lot of time in a downer mood here too (because circumstances), but he’s got more of his spunk back, the conflict between him and Garmadon in the Oni land is some nice banter. The FSM scene was kind of out of nowhere though. -The other ninja characters have their own small stories (bar Zane. Even the plot tries to excuse that when it doesn’t make sense) and they are all pretty enjoyable. Shout outs to Cole and Kai this time, they’re finally stepping up to take the entertainment mantle from Jay (well, when they’re not depressed in this special. I’ll get to that). Also, Pixal gets more time to show off here than in Hunted, which was a full season. What? -I didn’t even mention Garmadon in Hunted despite being a big player because there he was basically just a destruction machine. For some reason (which I know) he has a lot of sass this time. It means he’s a lot more fun, but after the last two seasons this feels like a very different direction. -Nobody else was worth mentioning aside from Garmadon’s epiphany being from talking to...a random cameraman? What? Even Dareth, Faith, Wu and Misako were basically just cameos. -Omega and the Oni were actually kind of interesting. I mean, to start with, they’re supposed to be hell-bent on destruction by nature, so them being one-note is a lot more forgivable than more human characters being the same. For another, the plot used Omega to highlight something Hunted never really did anything with. When we saw the resurrection ceremony in Sons of Garmadon, the ninja appeared to interfere with it while it was still going on. The aftermath of SoG and the entirety of Hunted basically went along with the idea that this ended up a flawless resurrection anyway, and that the ninja interfering did nothing. Omega basically offers a counterargument that it was in fact botched, calling out this supposedly totally evil Garmadon as still wanting to connect to his human side. That’s why I’m actually fine with how it ended; Omega’s words have him conflicted, and he feels he can’t judge how to react to Lloyd in this state, so he ends up backing off to see he can find some answers for himself. Leaves the Omega’s words room to resonate and have payoff. Plus he seemed so done with the family feud shit down below. -Speaking of, I have seen people question why Cole was needed to fall anyway when he survived just fine and came back in the span of one episode. It seemed to be two-fold to me; to be the straw that broke the camel’s back between Lloyd and Garmadon (thus driving Garmadon’s possible road to redemption, since him and Lloyd are the focus of this season) and being the impetus that eventually leads to the idea of forging the Golden Weapons, and thusly the Tornado of Creation. Plus Kai was depressed pretty much the entire time until Cole came back (I’ll get into this one later). -The whole premise of this special has a weird foundation; it was supposed to finish off the brand spanking new Oni trilogy, but was made to promote Legacy sets. That being said, it was nice to see the callbacks. From the aforementioned Tornado of Creation, to the Golden Master armour (NOT the Dragon Armour), to Possessions’ Sword of Sanctuary, and even Kai’s profession from the pilot play a pivotal part. -As one may expect, the big thing about the season that holds it back is the pacing. With only four episodes to cover story as opposed to ten, a lot of beats end up going by very quickly without having time to really mull properly. Biggest offender is probably after Cole’s death, everyone is down, but as soon as Kai forges those golden weapons Jay and Zane are just stoked like “YEAH” and “COOL”. Like, come on.

Okay, for this one I’m getting on a soap box about Cole and Kai again. I did it for Possession, but I need to do it here even harder. When I started this watching of the older Ninjago material, I thought, based on how everyone else talked about it, Cole and Kai stopped having meaningful interactions early on, only to come up again much, much later. It seemed that way when I started, being way down for season 2 compared to season 1 and the pilots. But no, season 3 picked it up again, and it persisted. It persisted so long, only season 6 could be argued to have dropped it again (and that has the excuse of them only appearing for half the season in Kai’s case). It was there, but it was on the low, left to simmer. March of the Oni feels like someone got drunk at the wheel and messed up the ratios of character interaction, because this season was just chock full of it. Like, it even comes to a point where Garmadon is looking at past photos of Cole after being admonished for his inhumanity about his “death”, and the shot just could not cut Kai out of the closeup of Cole. Between this season, and what the DHX seasons have done, it’s no wonder Lava seems to be snowballing.

Also can I just point out that this is some weird bizarro universe where Jay is being pushed by his girlfriend’s brother and his former romantic rival to propose when Jay’s the one not ready to do so? And that it gets even weirder for said girlfriend?

Overall, I actually quite enjoyed March of the Oni, in spite of its reputation. It’s certainly very bizarre when taken as the follow-up to Sons of Garmadon and hunted, but I think it achieves what it set out to do, and in a satisfactory way. The deaths may have been a bit too cheesy, but everything has a narrative purpose, so none of it feels like fluff. Yeah, I think it’s pretty good.

Well, it’s nice that the series has picked up again after Hunted. But next time, we get to see if it can...oh, wait, that’s it. I saw Secrets of the Forbidden Spinjutsu when it came out, and I really enjoyed that one. And Prime Empire is my favourite season of Ninjago altogether.

So I guess for overall, I’d say this; Ninjago as a show isn’t without its issues. It especially seemed to have teething issues for the first four seasons, but aside for some clunky bits (decisions made in S6, S9) and some shaky characterisation that wasn’t quite ironed out, it’s been an enjoyable ride. I’d say I’d watch eight of the twelve seasons willingly again, and that is definitely not a bad ratio for such a long lasting show.

This isn’t the end of my thoughts on old Ninjago though. Next time I get to do something more off the cuff and digging into my more nuanced thoughts; unpopular opinions!

#ninjago #ns10 #vedj-f talks #vedj-f reviews #bring out the party poppers I actually made it

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ducktracy · 5 years ago

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139. sunday go to meetin’ time (1936)

disclaimer: this is the second entry in the censored eleven. while there are at least triple the amount of cartoons that aren’t included in the list that are just as racist, this should tell you what we’re dealing with. the review you’re about to read entails racist content, imagery, concepts, and ideas. i do NOT at all endorse this content. i find these depictions, gross, demeaning, and wrong. i don’t take pleasure plastering it up on my blog. but to gloss over it and act like these prejudices never existed would be just as wrong. please let me know if i mess up or say something wrong, or if there’s anything i can do to make this easier to read. it’s never my intention to hurt anyone and i want to take accountability for my actions if i do. thank you for bearing with me and i hope you can understand.

release date: august 8th, 1936

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: n/a

as i mentioned in the disclaimer, this is the second entry in the censored 11. the censored 11 in itself is a pretty menial title, seeing as there are unfortunately many more cartoons just as ugly and racist as the ones in the censored 11 but aren’t included in the list. the first entry, as you might recall, was all the way in 1931 with hittin’ the trail for hallelujah land, which was relatively tame in comparison to this one. nicodemus refuses to go to church. instead, he spends his time trying to kill a chicken. when knocked unconscious, he comes face to face with the devil himself, who tries to sort him out.

open to a remote, neighborly town in the country. we hone in on a church, where a pastor (of course caricatured in blackface, but that’s only the beginning) greets the churchgoers inside, singing an original score by norman spencer. there’s very little to appreciate in this cartoon, but there are some beautiful vocals. the music is the only good part of the cartoon.

church bells accompany the song, and we peer into the steeple itself. a man clings to the rope as he rings the bells, repeatedly jumping in and out of his pants. a gag that would have been amusing in 1932, but feels outdated, even for 1936. we see that the rope is connected to a rocking chair, where a sleeping man rocks back and forth, his head repeatedly hitting the sides of the bell to ring. get it? because he’s got a thick skull? what a lovely cartoon already.

now we launch into the eponymous song, sung by a man strolling down the sidewalk with his sweetie. the song is very catchy and the animation itself in a technical aspect is nice, good synchronization with occasional tap dances and the animation of the wooden planks receding is very skillful. but, obviously, the scene is hard to appreciate. a very catchy song that’s too good for its own cartoon. we also get a view of a random man shuffling along and lazily tipping his hat.

and, because we had one good aspect of the cartoon, we must balance it out with something twice as bad. a mother slathers shoe polish on the heads of her children, who all run to their father. he shines their heads with a rag, and their heads are freshly polished and shiny. i don’t need to follow that up with any explanation as to why that’s bad. another woman strolls along with her children, tying a bra around their heads like a sun bonnet (a gag that would be used in a much funnier context in a corny concerto.)

elsewhere, the church bells are still ringing. a woman walks along outside, calling “nicodemus! nicodemus!” and scanning her surroundings to no avail. she carries a bible and a sunday hat, her walk determined and angry. just as she strolls past a fence, she hears a voice. we see two hands shaking a pair of dice as a man calls “come on dice, come to your pappy!” it seems nicodemus has been found at last.

the woman (seemingly his mother) yanks him out to the other side of the fence and chastises him, slapping the hat on his head and pushing him along to church. nicodemus protests (“i don’t wanna go to no church!”), and eventually she resorts to dragging him along by the ear. they approach the church, nicodemus still complaining and urging to be let go. the doors close and we pan over to the exterior of the church, viewing the silhouettes of the churchgoers inside singing some gospel. after a moment, the front doors open again, and out creeps nicodemus. he tiptoes away, turning around to assert the coast is clear. confirming that he isn’t being followed, he breaks out into a scrambled run.

suddenly he skids to a halt, where he overhears clucking. nicodemus stands right outside a yard fenced in by chicken wire, and sure enough a telltale chicken is inside. an idea hatched and nicodemus snags a nearby club, pushing the gate open and sneaking inside. he approaches the chicken, club behind his back as he urges the chicken to come closer. the chicken senses something is up and demands to see what he’s hiding in his hand. a simple switch of the grip, and nicodemus holds out his now empty hand, the other hand hiding the club. the charade continues on for a bit, until nicodemus resorts to running after the chicken, thrashing his club around aimlessly while the chicken scrambles around in terror.

eventually, nicodemus corners the chicken against a wooden fence. the chicken slips out through a loose board, the board whacking nicodemus in the head. he stumbles, and his surroundings begin to melt away. behind him is a large poster advertising a judge at the court of justice, standing behind the podium. the podium melts into a different one, with red letters reading “HADES COURT OF JUSTICE.” the judge is none other than the devil himself, jeering at a terrified nicodemus.

if anything, the colors used for the hell sequence are attractive, particularly the green and purple flames. an unconventional color choice. nevertheless, it’s understated by the blatant racism of the entire premise and cartoon as a whole. the devil opens a book to “reveal [nicodemus’] past”, flipping through the pages while continuing his shrill laughter. a page of nicodemus’ sins: shooting craps, stealing chickens, missing church, raisin’ dickens, and stealing watermelons. wow! a book chock full of racist stereotypes! the devil sneers and merely concludes “that’s bad.” a pull of a lever and nicodemus is sent tumbling through a chute, down through the surprisingly mountainous realm of hell.

nicodemus claws at a random cliff, trying to pull his way up. instead, he drags a huge patch of grass downwards like a carpet (reused in another 1933-1934 cartoon i believe. it may have been buddy the gob, freleng’s first??? regardless, it’s recycled), plummeting to the ground. the next shot reveals that the ground is actually a giant pinball machine, with the devil at the lever. i will give credit on the surrealism, it feels like a precursor to porky in wackyland (which is a much more superior cartoon than this one). nicodemus is propelled through the maze, eventually landing in a metal lip that reads “FLASH!” an electric volt shoots nicodemus back up through the pinball machine and through a hole at the top of the board.

he lands on the ground (again), where a bunch of blackfaced imps arrive to terrorize him, pulling his limbs and stretching him around as they whisk him away. they carry him to the feet of the devil, who sits in his throne, rows of other imps creating a pathway. thus sparks another song number too catchy for its own good, “you’ve got to give the devil his dues”. i’ve never played cuphead and know very little, but this is an instance where i can say “just like cuphead” in a technical sense. the scene certainly reminds me of something from cuphead. catchy vocals and catchy song. it deserves to be in a better context. some of the imps do a dance number, intermittently shouting “YEAH!” in rhythm. it’s certainly an interesting sequence, but still one that’s horribly tainted by racism.

many eye pokes from the devil later, nicodemus is poked and prodded by the imps, who all jeer and laugh at him as he cowers on the ground in fear. the caverns of hell melt away to the serene countryside, and we find ourselves back in reality, a bunch of curious chickens pecking at nicodemus instead. he regains consciousness, collecting himself, and at first resorts to thrashing and kicking to scare the chickens away. he pauses, observing the poster above him with the judge at the podium, a remnant of his nightmare.

church bells catch his ear, and immediately nicodemus makes a break for it. he zigzags through various fences and obstacles just to get to his destination—the scene lacking any sense of urgency and thus lacking any humor. it instead feels tedious. nevertheless, he zooms into the church, just in time to sing with the gospel. a view of one of the stained glass windows depicts an angel, and we see nicodemus’ silhouette fill the angelic figure, nicodemus even peering through the window at one point to solidify it’s really him. an end that feels very similar to the resolution of the much superior and less racist wholly smoke. iris out.

well, as i’m sure you can tell, i hate this cartoon. this is the nastiest and most mean-spirited cartoon i’ve seen thus far, and is probably the nastiest entry in the censored 11 as a whole. there’s little to commend about it. the music is the only good part of the cartoon—the musical numbers were very catchy indeed, and some of the background design choices were intriguing, like the pinball machine or the purple and green flames in hell. nevertheless, it’s just a bad cartoon. the gags are dehumanizing and demeaning, they aren’t funny, they’re just terrible. i wouldn’t recommend this cartoon at all, not even for a hate watch. the only reason i could ever think of for watching it is to see the prejudices people had (and still unfortunately have today in the year of 2020) back then. for educational purposes. but even then... no. but, because i always do, i’ll provide a link. obviously watch at your own discretion if you’re really that curious.

#lt #sunday go to meetin’ time #reviews #long post #racism tw #blackface tw #freleng #i will bever have to watch this again thank god!

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elejahfanfic · 4 years ago

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Start Over/6

Fanfiction

Part 6

Nick Amaro x Elena Gilbert

A TheVampireDiaries/Law&Order svu crossover. Well, just borrowing Nick Amaro.👮‍♂️💕

Totally AU - a little love story.

♤♡◇♧

Premise: Nick Amaro left NYC and went to live in Mystic Falls, to be closer to his daughter, as his wife decided to go back to her home town.

He rents a house next door to Elena Gilbert Salvatore, who is a widow now...they become friends and fall for eachother.

Also, Nick has to deal with a lot of supernatural things going on...

○♡

_it's fluffy and smutty,too. Also there is a bit of vampire violence

18+

♡□

tags @miguelsbrat

◇□■○

The next morning

Elena poured herself coffee. Cutting a cupcake in half, she walked to the living room. She sat down on the armchair. Her soft chocolate eyes landing on the detective, who was soundly asleep. Her thoughts flowed back to the night before.

"Elena, wait" Nick called out, stepping out of the house.

Turning around, Elena rubbed her wet palms at her jeans.

"I'm sorry for being - but this - all this is a new territory for me. Maria - had so many secrets - I thought I knew her- and now my daughter- is a witch - I just"

"Can't processes it?!"

"Yeah" Nick muttered.

"Come on -" Elena took him by the hands. "Ask me anything."

"It will take all night."

Elena sighed a little. She was exhausted, but could not sleep. She now twirled her phone in her hands. Opening the message inbox, she wrote a message to Caroline.

Elena: Any news?

Caroline: No.But Bonnie and Sidney are on it, with Valerie and Eric. How is Nick?

Elena: Ok, I guess. Asleep.

☕🌸🧁

Elsewhere_Mystic Falls caves

"You either do what I say or - you are all dead. Your choice" Kai Parker pointed the crossbow at the witch.

"The same goes for you." Sidney now channelled all his ancestry line, gripping the Gemini witch-vampire by the throat with his magic.

"This time we are sending you to the deepest, darkest abyss of Hell. Never to return" Sidney murmured the words, opening a portal, "sigillum usque in sempiternum."

Kai chocked trying hard to get out of the grip. Kicking and screaming the blaze surging from the portal enveloped him. With a last push of strenght, Bonnie joined all of her ancestral magic with Sidney's, throwing Kai through the portal that swallowed him, sealing for all eternity.

"My dearest," Sidney shot to his fiance, "are you all right?"

"Yes" Bonnie pulled the arrow out, watching the wound seal. "The protective magic shield Hope did worked."

"Oh, thank to the Gods." Sidney embraced the witch, listening to the baby's heartbeat. "She is fine"

"She is. And - she helped, too." Bonnie said. "I could feel it."

"She is going to be feisty like her mama" Sidney smiled lovingly.

"She is" the witch said now rubbing the rounded belly.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Sidney said taking Bonnie's hand.

"Yeah- I'm so craving a large chocolate milkshake."

"All right. You'll get an extra large one."

"With extra cream" Bonnie said as they walked out of the caves.

"Whatever you want"

"And a long bubble bath" Bonnie added.

"Done." Sidney said, stopping for a moment, pulling the witch into a loving kiss.

🎁🌼👮‍♂️

A couple of weeks later

Nick knocked at the back door of Elena's house.

"Hey, you" Elena smiled at the detective.

"Here is some left over apple pie. My mom made tones for the Salvatore school charity thing." Nick smiled nervously.

"Thanks. Come in." Elena took the pie. "I was about to make some coffee."

"How was New Orleans ?"

"Crazy good." Elena replied."It was a great idea to getaway for the weekend and have the bachelorette party there." Elena replied taking a plate out of the cupboard. "Want some?"

"No. I'm good. But coffee, yes. Please."

"Elena -" Nick started, gulping.

"What?"

"Can we start over? I mean - I'm in love with you. And I- I don't know why I've -"

"Shut up" Elena swooped over to the detective, placing a finger on his lips. "Just kiss me."

His lips were firm against hers, both moving in perfect sync, gently, lovingly. His entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, moving her hand to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her long, dark chocolate hair, lightly pulling her into him, adding more pressure to her lips, deepening the kiss.

Tearing away from the kiss, Elena now took his hand, giving him a sultry, lustful look.

"Elena" Nick stopped for a second.”We’ve kind of just - got back together”

"No talking" Elena said placing a small kiss on his lips, "I missed you, so much. We wasted too much time"

“Yeah - and now I will make it up to you.”

Elena tilted her head cutely. “Good”

She cupped his face in both of her hands and kissed his lips. Her hands slowly travelled down his neck, sliding underneath his shirt, her light hands gliding up aroung his back.

His eyes glistened with desire, licking his lips, he swallowed thickly, losing himself in her beauty. Just one look from her and everything in him shook and stirred.

“Don’t get me wrong - I want you and I missed you so much. But - I want to - I booked that table again in Mystic Bell.” Nick glided his hand over Elena’s cheek. "You are so breathtakingly beautiful" Nick now slipped as he cupped her face. Elena smiled knowing all too well how she affected him.

"You are not bad yourself" she beamed up at him with her eyes sheeted with desire.Their lips now met again, his softly tugging hers. His tongue darted in her mouth, entwining with hers, letting out a muffled groan as she pressed her body against his.

"You drive me crazy" he gasped.

"I've just begun" Elena said. “And we are definitely going to that dinner. Nothing is going to stop us. But now I want to take care of you.”

And as found themselves in her bedroom, she now pushed him on it. He freed himself of the shirt and she climbed on him, lowering her lips onto his, kissing him now teasingly slow, as he mashed his hands into her long hair. Moving her lips now to his jaw, she peppered small kisses slowly down his neck.

Nick felt his breath stop, as she continued to trail small butterfly kisses down his chest to his abs, stopping just below his belly button, looking up at him now, meeting his dark eyes fully lost in the fire she had set alight.

"Don't stop" he breathed hoarsely.

"Don't plan to" Elena said. She now pulled down his pants along with his boxers, exposing his hardness. Her hands slipped around him, adoring him with her touch for a moment. Lowering her lips now on him, his heart went wild. She ran her tongue over the spongy tip. She used her tongue to wet him.

Oh, my God," he grunted and as she took him in her mouth.

His blood roared through his veins like wildfire, burning and stinging. It felt like she was devouring him whole. She moaned softly, and he clenched his eyes as delicious jolts of pleasure shot up his spine.

She stroked and sucked him, coaxing long, low moans from him.

Wet, sucking sounds intermingled with his grunts of pure pleasure. He was not going to take long and the next moment he shattered into million pieces, coming hard.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest as his breathing returned to normal. His hands stroked her head. “You are amazing. I don’t know if I deserve you”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Elena said beaming up at him. Kissing her he now pulled her up.

With gentle hands he stripped her, sliding her checkered shirt over her head, unclasping her bra. Pressing a sweet kiss on her shoulder, he unbuttoned her jeans. Elena laid back, now letting him shimmy them down, together with her panties.

She moaned low in her throat, as he now trailed small kisses from her toes upward, slowly, his hands on her legs, always just a little higher than the kisses. Elena arched her back in anticipation, knowing where his fingers will soon reach. Her head rocked back against the pillow, a gasping moan escaping her lips as his fingers slid over her most senstive spot...

#nick amaro #elena gilbert #nicklena #fanfiction #tvd fanfiction #fanfiction crossover #alternative universe

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breeeliss · 6 years ago

Note

What's your honest opinion on Love Death + Robots? Because I want to watch it but a lot of what I'm seeing on Twitter is that it's pretty misogynistic and full of a lot of nudity. Would love to hear your take :)

i loved it. obviously it’s not perfect (nothing is) but i think people are sort of holding it to a higher standard than it necessarily needs to be.

david fincher and tim miller initially wanted to do a heavy metal reboot which, if you’re not familiar with heavy metal, was pretty much an adult sci-fi anthology chock full of violence, sex, nudity, gore, and all that good shit that teenager boys with xbox’s get hard ons for. but after the rights to heavy metal got purchased, fincher and miller basically shopped the idea around until netflix agreed to pick it up and it became love death and robots.

the animation is fucking impeccable. you’ve got some really big heavy hitters who devoted talent to this, and the diversity of animation styles is worth it in my opinion. it’s a gorgeous anthology. you’ve got everything from 2D animation to photo-real 3D CGI animation (“the witness” had similar animation style to spiderverse which i thought was awesome). it’s also gritty. lots of gore, monsters, violence, dark humor, cursing, action, space dramas, war backdrops, mech fights. i find that shit cool so i don’t mind watching it.

that being said, it’s an immature project in the sense that it brings me through a similar stage of emotions that most video games on the market bring me through. it’s not targeted towards me. it’s a male fantasy at the end of the day. you’re gonna find tits, blood, gore, violence, war, guns, you name it. and while i think a few of the shorts do create what are meant to be empowering, “grab our power back” narratives for women, the premises do depend on them being traumatized and being the victims of male violence first which i blame on there not being enough female writers and directors on the project (you felt that absence like a punch in the face). i’m the type of person that can enjoy things while also acknowledging where they succeed and where they fall short.

some of the shorts were outstanding. sonnie’s edge, good hunting, suits, three robots, shape-shifters, and the secret war were some of my favorites. not all of them were great. some didn’t take themselves seriously and some didn’t want you to. at the end of the day i don’t think this was meant to be a serious, fleshed out, coherent show. i think it was just an amalgamation of cool ideas that were only connected based on the themes of sex, violence, and robots (exactly what’s on the tin). it’s good to watch if you want to turn your brain off for a bit.

idk man everything you watch has something wrong with it. you can find fault in literally everything. but sometimes i just wanna sit back and enjoy cool shit and despite it’s flaws i still loved it. plays to all the things i love so i had a blast.

#love death and robots #ldr #Anonymous #ask

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diyunho · 6 years ago

Text

The Joker x Reader - “Secrets” Part 1

The Joker did something so unforgivable and despicable you don’t ever want to see him again. After months of avoiding The King of Gotham, you really can’t understand why he appointed you as the only person to take care of his son in case of emergency. There’s no way you’ll accept to help the little boy in his father’s absence, yet the three years old has no fault in what happened between you and your ex.

Part 2: http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/178630090876/the-joker-x-reader-secrets-part-2

You have no idea for how long you’ve been driving, but you feel the need to pull over again: the restlessness is becoming unbearable and the tears clouding your vision make it dangerous to continue the trip for the moment.

You signal and switch lanes, slowly approaching the emergency shoulder ahead without a clue about what to do afterwards; one thing’s for sure though: Y/N will definitely take refuge in LA.

At this point it’s safe to say that the town her father owns is probably the only home she ever had; not a very comforting notion yet the shocking revelation she accidentally stumbled upon a few hours ago doesn’t leave any room for alternatives.

You park as close as possible to the concrete railing and get out of the SUV, the cold air making you shiver since your coat is quite thin for the chilly spring afternoon. You start pacing around the car, hesitantly glaring at your cellphone. Should you make the call now or wait?... …

Might as well get it over with.

You press the screen on the sole name listed under “Important Contacts”: Dad.

The Joker’s phone number used to be there also; it got blocked and removed when you had to stop for fuel at a gas station back in Gotham.

Jase picks up right away and the sound of his familiar voice makes it harder to keep yourself together.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi daddy,” you sniffle and bite on your lip, not wanting to cry. “How are you?”

“Not bad for an old man, kid. How’s my favorite daughter?” he asks and despite not remembering being more upset in your life, you still crack a smile since the mobster doesn’t have any other children.

“I’m OK dad,” you gulp and continue. ”I’m actually on my way to Los Angeles; I should be there tomorrow night.”

“That’s great, Y/N! I didn’t see you in a while and I sure miss you. How long are you staying?”

You take a deep breath, almost chocking on the painful words:

“Indefinitely…”

Absolute silence for a few seconds and then Jase growls:

“What the fuck did he do now?”

You sigh, choosing not to share the specifics of your decision.

“It’s just not working out…So I’m coming home…Can I use the house again please?” your request makes your parent cringe.

“That’s your house and you don’t need my permission to live there, kiddo. What’s going on, hm? You know you can tell me,” the 62 years old attempts to reason with the distressed Y/N: although she’s doing a decent job at hiding her heartache, he can read in between the lines.

“I’ll…I’ll be fine dad, don’t worry,” you mutter and your father knows better than to push for a confession; you’ll probably bring him up to date when you’ll be ready. “I think I’ll get on the road again; I have to cover as much distance as possible today.”

“Sure kid, I’ll see you soon. Drive safe!” Jase agrees because he realizes his daughter won’t be able to talk for longer: she sounds flustered and will probably burst into tears as soon as she hangs up.

“I will daddy. Bye…” is the faint answer the King of LA discerns before the conversation ends.

That son of a bitch! Jase grinds his teeth, angered at the simple affirmation of what he feared for months: The Joker was the wrong choice and certainly didn’t deserve your affection.

You were in love with him regardless.

So what the hell happened?!

************

Five hours ago

You were beyond excited to see J after the four days business trip; your father had a special request for his daughter to help smoothing out a transaction with one of his main New York partners and you obliged. Things went better than expected: Y/N managed to finish the assignment a day earlier which made the anticipation of being reunited with her boyfriend feel like a well-deserved bonus.

You rushed out of the elevator straight into the living room at the Penthouse and your enthusiasm got cut off when you saw this woman wearing one of your silk robes nonchalantly organizing piles of money in a few suitcases scattered on the floor. Her eyes got big when she noticed your presence.

“You’re early,” the woman concluded, more annoyed than surprised. “Weren’t you supposed to return tomorrow?”

You gazed at her with contempt, unaware of how bad it was.

“Who are you?” you frowned, heart beating so fast it was deafening.

She smirked, taking it upon herself to brief the clueless Y/N about the truth despite knowing The Joker will go ballistic at her actions:

“I’m his wife you dumb girl.”

You seemed stupefied and she continued:

“He does this from time to time if it benefits us business wise. Though I have to admit one year is the longest I had to share him with anybody and I’m tired of it! My husband never tells me who the women are and I trust he’s doing whatever necessary to ensure our future. I’m sick of people not knowing he’s mine!” she raised her voice, jealousy taking over. “Who are you, hm? What’s so important about you that he didn’t break it up yet?” she got worked up, seeing that as her chance to unravel the mystery of The Joker’s lengthy relationship with the stunned Y/N.

“I’m the Godfather’s daughter,” you mumbled and her entitled smile died under the burden of understanding she messed up badly.

Damn, The King of LA’s offspring! That’s why the money was pouring in from all the transactions with the other gang, that’s why The Joker kept you for so long. Oh God, he’s going to lose his mind! He should have said something to his wife about your identity, at least this time around: you were probably his most ambitious and lucrative project ever. Unfortunately, his other half screwed up beyond repair.

J’s voice coming from upstairs got you out of trance:

“Who are you talking to Nessa?” and he starting descending from the top floor with a little boy in his arms. Half way through he realized you were there and abruptly stopped, prompting the child to complain:

“Daaaaddy, I’m hungry.”

The Joker gazed at the two women in his life and didn’t get the opportunity to reply the burning question:

“You have a child?!...”

Y/N ran out of the premises, unable to fully comprehend what she witnessed by mere coincidence. She took the stairs, stumbling and almost falling on the way down; her ears were ringing and she could barely see a few feet ahead which was much better than the aftermath of the encounter happening at the Penthouse.

The Joker put his son down and urged him to go back to the master bedroom, stomping towards his petrified wife.

“What did you tell her??” he yelled so loud it made her shiver. “What did you say??” J pushed her against the wall and Nessa took a stance despite the survival instinct advising of the opposite.

“I didn’t know she is the Godfather’s daughter, ok? I’m aware we’re doing this for us, but you should keep me in the loop! I didn’t know who she was. I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry!”

“You’re sorry???” he snarled and the eerie grimace on his face turned into genuine insanity. “You ruined all of it and you’re sorry?? Who gave you permission to open your mouth, huh?? I could have fixed this, I could have made her think I was cheating and patch it up!!!”

“Why are you so mad?...” she had the nerve to fight and J slammed her on the floor, livid at the defiant behavior. “Do you…do you actually like her??!”

“Shut up!” he kicked her and she couldn’t stop:

“Is that it?! You like her?!”

“I said SHUT UP!” The Joker got on top of Nessa and pinned her body under his, wishing to squeeze the life out of her with his bare hands for the total disaster she was responsible for.

“Mommy…” their three years old son whimpered, scared to see his parents like that; they were caught up in the feud and didn’t see Alexis sneaking downstairs. “Mommy…” the terrified little boy made his father postpone his rampage.

“You ruined my hard work,” he hissed and got off her. “One year down the drain and you have the audacity to inquire if I like her??! Do you know how much money we lost since Jase won’t do business with me after this??!!”

“I’m sorry baby,” Nessa kept on coughing and curled up in a ball.

Alexis couldn’t stop sobbing and The Joker lift him up, panting with indignation while trying to suppress his rage.

“Sorry won’t fix shit!!!” he screamed and stormed out of the room, leaving his wife on the floor, grateful to have escaped his violent attack.

**************

After three months

You are at your father’s mansion, organizing his numerous accounts and updating wire transfers that need immediate attention after the settlements negotiated during the previous day.

“Done?” he uses his cane to knock at the opened door.

“Yes, dad. Probably 10 more minutes and I’m out of here.”

“Take your time kid,” he comes in and takes a stroll around his spacious office, wanting to share what he just found out.

You are completely absorbed into your assignment and Jase analyzes your features, delighted as always to see so much of him in his daughter.

“Say Y/N,” he gets your attention,”wanna hear some news?”

“Hmm?” you lift your head up from the laptop, not overly curious to discover whatever he wants to share.

“Your ex nearly lost his life two days ago. Apparently an ambush. His wife was with him, my sources inform. She’s dead and he’s not doing well either,” your parent emphasizes the secret relationship and watches you squirm in your chair, startled at his unexpected revelation. “Is that why you left him?” the interrogation makes you hold your breath and he shakes his head, irritated. “You found out the jerk was married? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You exhale, cornered by the impulsive Godfather.

“Because I didn’t want the business partnership between Gotham and LA to be impacted by my personal life,” you blur out one of the main reasons for your silence.

“Business partnership?! When it comes to my family to you think I give a damn about monetary gain? Are you serious?!”

“I knew you would retaliate and I didn’t want him to think that I care. Because…because I don’t,” the sadness in your voice makes Jase calm down a bit.

“… … Why are you crying then?...” he pushes the box of tissue in front of his devastated daughter; you didn’t even realize tears are rolling down your face. Jase grabs your hand and pulls you up in his embrace, holding you closer when you start bawling your eyes out on his shoulder. “Nobody messes with my little girl,” he whispers and caresses your hair, somewhat discouraged by your objection:

“I’m 30 daddy,” you sniffle and bury your face in his shoulder again.

“Still my little girl,” your father grumbles, displeased his own flesh and blood thought she didn’t mean more to him than a few million dollars.

It’s clear you kept the secret for other reasons also, probably the most important being the embarrassment of finding out you were used and taken for an idiot by the man you obviously loved.

A whole year of lies and deceit…

The cut runs deeper when it comes from the person that meant so much it got you convinced to change your mind about not wanting children; The Joker probably laughed at your willingness to give him an heir when he already had one with his own wife.

The two of them definitely deserved each other, but he definitely didn’t deserve you.

***********

2 weeks later at your house

“What does he want?” you sneer after one of the guards entrusted with your security told you Jonny Frost is here to ask for a meeting.

“I’m not sure, he says it’s an emergency. He has a little boy with him,” Nixon adds and you put aside the book you’re reading, intrigued. “Should I let him in?”

You nod a yes and furrow your eyebrows as soon as Frost enters the lounge: he’s carrying Alexis in his arms, the child fast asleep after the exhausting journey from Gotham to Los Angeles.

“Hello Y/N,” Jonny greets and you cut him off.

“What do you want?”

The Joker’s trusted henchman had a speech prepared for the encounter, yet given the current situation and the bitter look on your face he has to be as concise as possible.

“Mister J is very sick.”

“How is that any of my concern?!” you resentfully interrupt.

“Boss has to undergo a few surgeries since he can’t walk or talk properly,” Frost colors the big picture with a few carefully chosen words. “He left special instructions regarding his son: Mister J would like you to take care of Alexis in his absence.”

“Get out!” you snap and stand up from the couch. “Get out!” you repeat, disgusted by his demand. “The Joker has plenty of resources and people to fulfill his instructions. I AM NOT ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE!!!” you yell and the three years old is rubbing his eyes, almost woken up by the commotion. “How dare you come here and ask such a thing after what happened? Get out!”

“I didn’t know,” Jonny responds since he guessed exactly what you’re referring to. “I had no clue. And even if I knew, I couldn’t have said anything anyway,” his honesty doesn’t make it better. “Please take Alexis, I can’t go back with him; you know how Mister J is. Please Y/N,” Frost pleads and you bark:

“You have 20 seconds to disappear from my sight!!”

Nixon and four other goons approach, signaling Jonny to follow them because it’s evident the fuming Y/N is not thrilled with the uninvited guests. Frost has no other option besides leaving the premises, wondering how he’s going to explain his failure to The Joker.

“Ava!” you address the woman patrolling the western corridor of the house. “Have the crew ready in one hour, I need to pick up some diamonds from Enzo Neroni.”

Jonny is too far to discern the rest of the conversation and a simple plan flourishes in his brain: Enzo is one of the smugglers J uses on a regular basis also. Frost knows exactly where to find him and this might be the only chance that will act in his favor.

At this point he has nothing to lose.

************

“What is he doing here?” you point out at The Joker’s son as Enzo neatly places the purchased diamonds in tiny jewelry boxes.

“Uhh,” he shrieks. “Frost dumped him here until he can find a safe place for the kid. I guess his father will be out of commission for at least one month and he doesn’t want anyone messing with his offspring. I’m sure they’ll be some jumping at the opportunity. Get out of my way!” Enzo pushes the little boy and he falls on his knees, picking himself up afterwards. Alexis holds his teddy bear tighter, staring at all the strangers around and seems terrified.

“Can you not do that?” you smack your lips, aggravated.

“Do what?” Enzo halts his task. “You don’t want the gems in boxes? I can put them in pouches.”

“I was talking about the young boy,” you clarify your statement.

The smuggler lifts his shoulders up, defending his indifference.

“My warehouse is no place for children. Hey, don’t touch that!” he slaps Alexis’s hand when he reaches for a bottle of water on the table. “I didn’t say you can have it! I fucking hate kids,” he gives the three years old a mean look and it pisses you off.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask and snatch the water, opening the lid.

“U-hum,” Alexis barely manages to utter.

“Can I have this water or do I need permission too?” you mock and Enzo lifts his hands up in surrender, not wanting to initiate trouble. “Here,” you offer it to the little one and help him drink. He sure is thirsty since it takes a few good seconds before finishing. “Are you hungry?” and the child shrivels up, not answering your question. “Did you give him anything to eat?”

“No; I suppose I can send somebody to fetch some food when I have a moment,” Enzo groans and arranges the boxes inside the empty suitcase you came with.

“Do you think The Joker would be happy with that answer?” you frown and the reply bothers you more than it should:

“Mister J is not here, Y/N. I’m doing the best I can under the circumstances.”

“Your best sucks!” you mutter and take the hasty decision that will change the future for the parties involved, even if you don’t know it yet. “Where are his things?”

“In my van. Why?” Enzo is curious to hear.

“He’s coming with me, that’s why! Nixon, get the diamonds,” you order the bodyguard and you extend the palm of your hand, waiting for Alexis to take it. “Come on, let’s go,” you force a grin on your face and the little boy stalls until you encourage him again. “Come on,” and the small fingers are finally trapped within yours. “Don’t be scared, it’s ok,” you walk at his pace towards the exit.

Once you and your team are gone, Enzo dials Frost’s number and informs:

“She took him.”

Jonny is not big on religion but feels that today he was granted divine intervention.

“Oh thank God! That was so close to disaster,” he sighs, relieved.

“You better tell Mister J I didn’t do anything to his son! You know she’ll talk, I don’t want him coming after me. Tell him I actually helped and it was part of the plan. Do you fucking understand? I don’t want any trouble!”

“I’ll tell him,” Frost reassures and Enzo hangs up, wondering if it was wise to get involved in the messy situation.

**************

“I’ll tuck you in,” you pull the warm covers on top of Alexis and he anxiously wiggles after another thunder strikes in the distance. “It’s alright, it’s just a storm,” you try to make the little boy relax.

You were gone for most of the day and Ava was left in charge of the kid; at least he was bathed, fed and changed in clean clothes, undoubtedly safe under your roof just like his father wished.

“My name is Y/N. What’s your name?” you adjust his stuffed teddy bear under the blankets.

“Alexis…” he shyly whispers and gulps when another strong thunder shakes the house.

“That was close,” you wink and he nervously whimpers, distracted by the loud noise.

“Whe’s mommy?” Alexis suddenly asks. “I…I want my daddy,” his eyes get teary because he doesn’t know you and he’s frightened.

A three years old can’t possibly fathom why he doesn’t see his mother anymore and why his dad disappeared also.

“They’re not here…” you bite on your cheek. “You’ll stay with me for a while.”

“I want my moommyyy,” the boy starts crying and you don’t really know what to do.

You get under the covers and pull him in your arms, attempting to comfort an agitated child that squirms to escape the stranger’s embrace.

“Ssssstt, it’s ok,” you keep on gently rocking him and another powerful thunder makes Alexis instinctively cling to your nightgown. “You’re ok, it’s just nasty weather. It will go away,” you caress his hair with one hand and use the other to hug him again. “There you go, don’t cry. It’s fine…” you smile and his eyes gaze into yours, totally immersed in your soothing presence. “Ssstttt, you’re good,” you cuddle with the kid, protectively holding him until his body is not tense anymore.

The Joker’s son is falling asleep and even if the raging tempest wreaks havoc outside, someone showing him affection after being tossed around all day makes him cozy. Alexis has no idea that the woman tricked into taking care of him has no obligation to do so; in fact quite the opposite. His luck has changed tonight especially since there are several groups interested in taking advantage at J’s present misfortune.

The secret is out and can’t be swept under the carpet: The King of Gotham was married and he does have a child. With many enemies lurking in the darkness waiting for a chance to strike, it’s a miracle it didn’t happen yet.

But a miracle never lasts for long and destiny has a funny way of making everyone pay their debts.

Or send unexpected help from a person that shouldn’t lift a finger in granting safe haven to a little boy that reminds Y/N of his father’s deception.