#i didn’t even know this was happening until i saw some art of jon & man it made me real happy

[magalidragon]

For the Drabble challenge: 29 + 30 please! 😁

Here’s one! I have #30 coming up in a minute! This is set in a new universe, just something sweet and soft and maybe a tad angsty!

Safe Haven | 29. “Come over here and make me!”

"Daenerys get down from there and come here!"

"Come over here and make me!"

Jon muttered under his breath, storming towards the large oak tree behind his house-- and hers-- rummaging around in the dirty leaves and mud to find the knot at the base where he put his foot and then the groove just a foot above his head for his hand, beginning to haul himself up the back way towards the house above him.  "I'm going to kill you," he vowed, hating when he had to get up this way because she'd cranked up the rope ladder.

He emerged at the top, crawling over ungracefully onto the platform and fell to prop his back against the wall, peering into the treehouse where she sat, her face a beautiful mess of fury, fire, and pain.  She sniffed, hiding it behind her hand, and he ducked his head.  He knew she didn't like it when he saw her cry.  His dragon was always so strong.  He hit his head against one of the tree branches that curved out from the main trunk, which was in the center of the house.

It was hard to tell what came first, the tree or the treehouse.  It had been there forever; he joked that hte Children of the Forst must have built it.  It belonged to no one, stuck behind his house and hers, in a space of the Wolfswood that did not fall on his family's property or hers.  He drew his knee up to his chest and hooked his arm around it, holding onto his ankle.  "Dany, please," he said softly.  "It's not the end of the world."

"You're leaving!"

"I was always going to leave!"

"You didn't <i>tell</i> me!"

He would give her that one.  He closed his eyes, sighing hard.  Couldn't take it back.  "You knew I was going to join," he muttered.  There wasn't much for him.  He wasn't interested in going to college.  He had great grades, was one of the top of his class, but it wasn't for him and he knew it.  "I didn't want you there when I did."

She scowled, reaching over and picked up a stray beer can from the other night when they'd spent the entire time that his cousin had a party hiding away in their own private one.  She chucked it at him, with no heat behind the action.  "I hate you."

"I love you."

"I hate you."

He crawled towards her, repeating the words.  Over and over.  "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"No," she cried, when he pulled her small frame into his arms, and she cried into his chest as he rocked her.  She hiccuped, clutching his shirt.  "It's all changing Jon."

"I know."  He was leaving the only place he knew as his home, joining the military, disappearing into wherever or whatever they wanted him to do, although he had ideas.  Ideas he wouldn't tell her about because she could convince him otherwise.  He kissed her brow.  This was the only place she had thought of as her home, after an entire life of moving from place to place.  He exhaled, eyes fluttering shut.  "Dany...if you were with me...I would not have done it and...and I have to do this."

"I know."  She tilted her face up, the sunlight dying away at the end of the early summer day, her face a pale oval, tears streaking.  She blinked her violet eyes, looking indigo in the dim light.  Her silver hair was tangled, dirty from spending most of the day in the treehouse.  She brushed her lips along his pulse, racing.  "Hold me Jon, just...just hold me until the end."

If he had his way there wouldn't be an end.  He nodded and squeezed her close, until their hands grew bored, their emotions needing release, and they peeled at each other's clothing until they were making love under the stars, still not close to being 'experts' at the act even after the last few months of numerous hours of practice.

When he woke up in the morning, she was gone, and he stared at the carved heart in the tree trunk, smiling at it.  he wouldn't see her again; he had a feeling she was already on her way to Essos.

One day, he hoped, and he gathered up his clothes and climbed out of the treehouse, tossing the rope ladder up so no one could get to their safe haven.

--

Dany had not been back since she left for college. It broke her heart, being back here, but she had to return, because it was Ned Stark's funeral.  It was important for her to be there; he was always so kind to her, the weird silver-haired "Ghost Girl" they called her.  He knew her family's issues, why her mother had relocated them up North, as far away from anyone in the South who might know about her father's embezzlement and crimes. She hated running, she just wanted a place to call home.

And it wasn't even really home until she had discovered that ancient treehouse in the woods behind her house.  Except she wasn't the only one.

It became their place.  The weird bastard child with no mother and father, left to the charity of his aunt and uncle, and the see-through Ghost Girl.  They were the best of friends.  They did everything there.  It was where she had gone to cry over her brother Rhaegar's death, her brother Viserys running away and leaving them, all the kids making fun of her, and the highs and lows of friendship and heartbreak.  They watched meteor showers and stared at the stars, they both had their first drunk moments there-- and hangovers-- the first time they sampled Shade of the Evening-- she hated it, he threw up-- where she hid her cat Drogon from her mother for a week before he got out and ended up in her bedroom.

It was where they had their first kiss-- she wanted to know what it was like and he had already told his cousin he'd kissed someone-- laughing and giggling through it.  Then it was where they relaized they were in love with each other, shouting and angry because he'd gone on a few days with Ygritte Wilde who was telling everyone she'd taken his virginity and where she had been stood up on a 'date' that turned out to be his stupid fucking cousin Sansa setting her up for humilation.

They'd admitted their love, they had fumbled through their first time there-- and second, third, and fourth too.  It was where everything important happened.

It was where he broke her heart.  Where she broke his.

She stared up at it, reaching up with a branch to knock at the rope ladder, grunting from effort since it was caked to the wood from years of weather and countless leaves falling.  A clump of leaves and sticks fell, almost showering her with the detritus, and she smiled, lightly touching the frayed rope.  "Well if I die climbing this thing, that's appropriate," she muttered, hooking her foot into the bottom and making her way up.

It was like time stood still in the treehouse.

It was dusty, piles of leaves and dirt in the corners.  There was a blanket that had been eaten through by some animal, nothing but thread now.  She used to be able to stand straight up in it, but now she crouched, glancing around, smiling at it all.  There were a couple of band posters they'd tacked up, the paper caked onto the walls now.  If she touched it it would probably turn to dust.

And the trunk in the middle, with the carved heart, weather worn and the wood darkened.  She traced her finger along it.  DANY + JON.

She hadn't seen him yet; the funeral wasn't until tomorrow.

They had a lot to catch up on, she supposed, rocking onto her heels.  It was for self preservation she'd left him that morning.  That they'd ceased all communication.  It would kill her to keep it up.  They needed to leave.  To create their own lives and futures.

She exhaled, a puff of cold air coming out and she frowned, glancing down and realizing that the ashtray that she had made in art class was still there.  Except there was a single cigarette butt in it.  Delicately, she lifted it, and her eyes widened; it was still warm.  "Bloody hells," she cursed.

"Hi Dany."

Whipping her head, she fell backwards onto her butt, feet sliding under her.  She gaped at the opposite doorway; the back entrance up to the house, the way that they had to take if one of them had pulled up the rope ladder.  "Jon," she gasped.

He looked good.  Dark curls over his forehead and ears, his beard trim and lines threading from his eyes.  Gray, singular eyes, that made her think of the winter storms and the angry seas.  He smiled shyly, an arm draped over his knee.  "I heard you and...and I don't know why I hid," he admitted, shy.

She swallowed hard.  She wanted to yell at him for some reason.  He'd been in the papers six months ago; a dangerous mission at the Wall.  He could have died.  "Jon," she repeated.

He scooted a little closer to her.  "You look good."

Her hair was shorter than it had been.  She didn't know what to say.  What did you say after all this time to hte only man you had ever loved?  The only boy?  She took a deep breath, exhaled hard, and then did the only thing she suspected one could do.

She kissed him.

Lunged towards him, arms flying about his neck, and planted her mouth so hard on his, she knocked him backwards, and he grunted, the breath pushed out of him from her tiny body sitting on his.  He grabbed her hips and kissed her back, as urgent and desperate as her.  They were in heavy parkas and scarves, but none of that mattered, because she could hear his heart racing in time with hers, and feel the same hot bloody pulsing through him as her.

He broke the kiss a second later, hand rising to cup her cheek; it was cold, but she didn't mind, because the shock reminded her this was real.  "Dany," he sighed.

"I love you," she mumbled.  Tears trickled down her cheeks.  "I love you still Jon.  I don't care if you've changed, or...or if you're with someone or something...because I will always love you."

He smiled slowly and nuzzled his nose against hers, their hot breaths mingling.  "I love you too."  He paused, his brow wrinkling.  "And...and there's no one..  There's never been anyone but you."

They had so much to talk about, so much to catch up on, but for now, she needed to just remind herself that he was there, with her, in their safe space, away from anyone else.  She kissed him again, and again, and buried her face into his neck, smiling, finally at home.

#jonerys #jonerys au #my fics #my moodboards #jonerys fanfic #drabble ask

[cellsshapedlikestars]

Robot Jon! ☺️

(ok, I've been off tumblr for a few days, but I went on early this morning and had an ask with a bunch of prompts because I said I'd be taking a break from my Bachelor fic - which is true, if not for another 3 chapters yet. I haven't answered that ask because I'll lose it and therefore the prompts, but it reminded me that I still had two prompts left from when I asked for them back in... December? I'm the worst. Anyway, I re-looked at those prompts, saw this one, and then couldn't stop thinking about it. So I'm coming out of my vague tumblr hiatus to write this.)

Thank you, as always, for the prompt!

.

Sansa has never liked amusement parks.

The sun that always burned her, no matter how diligent mom was about reapplying sunscreen; the fried food that always made her sick; the crowds and the noise and having to walk everywhere. But the worst part was the rides – oh, she didn't mind some of them, like the Ferris wheel or the teacups; she could even handle the swing ride. The problem was that the rest of her family wanted to go on the horrible rides – roller coasters, haunted houses, swinging ships; the ones that go fast and drop you from a million feet in the air. And since it was hard enough wrangling the amount of children in their group to begin with, it was impossiblefor one adult to split off with Sansa, who alone wanted to ride the gentler ones.

And so, it's sort of ironic that she works at an amusement park now.

She may not have a taste for most of the rides in the park, but she is good at designing them – not the actual rides, but the aesthetics of them. It's her (and her team's) job to come in after the engineers and the builders and take a bare-bones ride and turn it into an experience. She loves her job – she loves watching children exit one of her rides with glowing faces and excitement in their eyes.

Today, she also gets to do one of her favorite aspects of the job, which is costume design. The animatronic models have already been installed, and when she enters the new Dance of Dragons ride, she can already see the scene taking shape in her mind. The concept art has already been drawn up, it's already being advertised – a medieval world that everyone knows is meant to capitalize on the stunning success of the Aemon the Dragonknight series (which her employer does not own the rights to, much to their dismay). But concept art is one thing – reality is another, and it's not until the ride is complete that she can start to truly see it come together in her mind.

“Oh good, you're here,” Margaery Tyrell sighs dramatically as she comes to meet Sansa's team. Margaery is in charge of Marketing and PR for this ride and Sansa knows it's a big responsibility, so she's been even more high maintenance than usual. Margaery walks her through the ride that Sansa has seen so many times in drawings.

“This is our Aemon,” Margaery slaps a hand against the shoulder of one of the animatronic models. “Although we can't call him Aemon. Copyright and all that.”

Sansa looks at the robot and she's struck for a moment how lifelike he is. A lot of the animatronics aren't this detailed, though she guesses this one is because of how close to the ride it is.

“He's handsome, right?” Margaery flashes her a grin and there's something in her eyes that Sansa can't quite place. (Well, she can, it's mischief, Sansa just can't tell why it's there.)

“I guess, in the way that cartoons can be handsome,” Sansa laughs and takes another look at the model – the somber grey eyes, dark curly hair, and an equally dark beard. “You even gave him abs,” she points down at the robot's chest which does, indeed, have a very detailed set of abs. “Am I supposed to leave him shirtless?”

“Oh, no, obviously we want realism, like we talked about,” Margaery waves her hand dismissively. “We just couldn't help ourselves when we put in the order.” Sansa shoots her a confused look, which only gets a delighted laugh out of Margaery. “I'm guessing you don't recognize him?”

“Recognize who?”

Margaery gestures at the animatronic. “Jon!” At Sansa's blank stare, Margaery rolls her eyes. “Jon Snow?”

The name sounds familiar and it takes her a second to place it. “The engineer?”

“Duh! Seven hells, don't tell me you've never actually seen him?”

Sansa shakes her head – she usually comes in well after the engineers have done their part.

“Mormont let him take the lead on this project and he's so... ugh,” Margaery makes a noise that's half frustration, half delight. “So serious all the time. But somehow likable? It's infuriating, really. And no one should be that attractive for a nerd.”

“So... does he know you made him into a robot?”

“He does not,” Margaery grins. “We're all just dying for him to come in for an inspection and see it. In fact,” she pulls out her phone and checks the time, “if you wait around for a bit, you'll get to see it happen.”

Sansa shakes her head and they continue on through the set, Sansa writing down notes in her trusty notebook that she always carries with her. Lists of costumes, set pieces. She'll need to bring in Asha later to discuss the lighting options (right now the dark ride is lit with spotlights, giving the whole place a surreal atmosphere).

Margaery eventually leaves her to it and Sansa loses herself in going over the set inch by inch with Gilly and Mya following along with her. She's so lost in thought that Mya has to shake her arm to bring her back to reality, and they turn to see a group of what has to be engineers standing in the main Great Hall set.

“Oh come on, Jon,” Margaery is giggling as a man who must be Jon stands, staring at the animatronic. He's scowling at it, hands tight around the pile of binders in his arms that are... well, ok, Sansa can understand now why Margaery made the robot so well muscled.

Sansa edges closer to the scene, and she can see that his fellow engineers are laughing – one of them is red-faced from trying to hold it in while another is actively wiping tears from his eyes.

“It's already made,” Margaery says in response to whatever Jon had grumbled to her. “Replacing it would be an irresponsible waste of funds. Oh! And here's the team that will be styling you... I mean, styling not-Aemon because that's copyright infringement.”

Jon looks up and the scowl drops from his face.

“This is Sansa, Mya and Gilly are over there.”

“Hi,” Sansa greets and Jon shifts his binders into one arm and then holds out his hand for her to shake (she can feel her face heating up and she hopes the dark hides it). “I promise to try and do you justice.” She regrets her words immediately, especially when she sees a slow grin spread over Margaery's face. “Though it doesn't totally look like you,” she continues on to try and backtrack. “It... doesn't have glasses?”

She wants to sink into the floor in embarrassment, but the gods are not that kind. At least she doesn't spout out how much she likes his glasses. Maybe Margaery is right – no one who clearly cares so little about their appearance should be this attractive. His beard needs a trim, his outfit is painfully unstylish, his hair is pulled back into a bun. All of it should add up to something she hates, but she just... doesn't.

(And honestly, Margaery's description of nerd isn't so far off the mark, but Sansa finds this isn't a detriment – in fact, she might be more attracted to him because of the glasses and the multitude of thick binders organized with labels and tabs that he's got tucked under his arm.)

“I'd also hope real Jon isn't built like a Ken doll,” one of the other engineers barks out a laugh and points at the animatronic, which, yes, does not have any reproductive anatomy.

“Gods,” she hears Jon whisper, and the hand that he had used to shake hers comes up and covers his eyes. “This is a nightmare.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Margaery sighs and pats him on the shoulder. “Now, why don't you take Sansa around and make sure she's really taken care of, hmm?” At the words, Sansa feels her face heat even further and Jon drops his hand from his eyes and glares at Margaery. “I just mean,” Margaery grins, not even trying to pretend the innuendo wasn't on purpose, “it might help the design if she has a good understanding of the mechanics. I know there's some new things on this ride we haven't had before, you could show her.”

Jon opens his mouth, but doesn't get a chance to speak, because Margaery barrels on. “Sam, Grenn, you can chat with Gilly and Mya while that's happening. And I... well, I'll just be over here, minding my own business.”

With that, Margaery walks away and the other two engineers – Sam and Grenn, she guesses – head over to where the rest of her team stands, watching from afar.

“You don't have to,” Sansa starts, but Jon quickly turns from glaring at Margaery's back to her and his face settles into something less... scowly.

“I don't mind,” he says quickly and maybe it's the low lighting in here, but she thinks the tips of his ears are red.

“Perfect,” she gives him her best smile, which seems to throw him even more off balance and... and she thinks she could get used to throwing Jon Snow off balance.

#ask #jonsa #jonsa fic #prompt fic #i don't know how amusement park ride design works #just go with it #don't ask questions

[anotheruserwithnoname]

How poor fact-checking “killed off” Tom Baker...

Above: In an alternate universe, Richard Hurndall, Peter Davison, Jon Pertwee, Patrick Troughton and K9 filmed the prequel to Weekend at Bernie’s.... (read on to get the joke)

Editor note: The following was written in 2019 and for some reason I never posted it. Having rediscovered it today and in honour of Tom Baker’s 88th birthday (and I’m sure he’d appreciate the absurdity of the situation), I thought I’d post it with some updates, of course!

When I first saw The Five Doctors anniversary special around 1985-86, I found it a rather depressing affair as I had discovered not long before that Tom Baker was dead. I assumed that was why he wasn’t in any new footage in Five Doctors and why the rest of the Doctors had to pose with a Madame Tussaud’s wax figure of Tom for publicity shots, which I thought was kinda morbid. (Anyone who doesn’t know what Weekend at Bernie’s is may now go google for a moment...)

Excuse me, Saddleman? You do know that Tom Baker was certainly not dead in 1983; in fact he’s still very much with us in 2022 and even recording for Big Finish! He just turned 88, in fact!

Oh, of course I know that NOW. I even have an autographed copy of Big Finish interview CD, Tom Baker at 80. But in 1985-86 there was no Internet, and Doctor Who wasn’t really a thing in my part of Canada. I wasn’t a member of any fan clubs. Doctor Who books were rarities in the shops; you had to special order them through the stores (I once waited 6 months for a Target novelisation to arrive and I remember there were a couple bookstores gave up on trying to obtain any for me...). So I had to rely on reference books I encountered in libraries and stores.

Such as the one I flipped through in a collectables shop that was an encyclopedia of “character dolls” - a who’s who of actors and characters represented in dolls and action figures with entries explaining who these people are for the older collectors who might have had no idea who Mark Hamill was or why anyone should care that he played Luke Skywalker. Of course, as there were several dolls made of the Fourth Doctor, Tom Baker was listed.

And the entry for Baker stated that he had died in New York City in 1982.

It seriously took me until the early 2010s to find out how this happened: an American actor by the name of Tom Baker (who had worked with Andy Warhol on some of his art films) died in September 1982. Obviously, whoever had written the toy-collectors’ book, and whoever was in charge of editing said book, never did a proper fact-check on this piece of information and assumed it was the same man.

As for my teenaged self back in 1985-86, who had no Internet, no access to UK media, limited access to any books related to Doctor Who outside the novelisations ... for at least 2 or 3 years, I legitimately proceeded on the assumption that, about a year after finishing his time on Who, Baker had died for whatever cause. I got on with life - these things happen, right? I didn’t even take note that Baker had made a guest appearance in 1983 or 84 in what was my favourite TV show at the time, Remington Steele. (I think I missed the episode as I didn’t have any memory of having seen Tom Baker in that show until I watched the episode on DVD decades later.)

Fast-forward to around 1988-ish and Nick Briggs’ Myth Makers interview video series was underway. By this time, there was growing local interest in Who in my part of the world (it was airing on a Canadian children’s network and more PBS stations piped into Canada on cable were showing it) and a local comic shop was stocking versions of Myth Makers videos put out by a US company in the NTSC format. Imagine my surprise and confusion when one of them ended up featuring ... Tom Baker! And it was a recent interview, not archived from the early 80s.

People talk about how the Internet spreads misinformation. To be frank, the pre-Internet era was just as bad. It also shows the importance of fact-checking and proofreading. I’ve tried to find that encyclopedia book for years, to see if they ever corrected their mistake. Much as I continually say I prefer permanent physical media over temporary digital files, the trade off is that permanent physical media is permanent. If I put a website together and I include wrong information (i.e. Tom Baker dying in 1982), I can correct the information immediately upon receiving a correction. But a book is forever and right now in some corner of some library or basement bookshelf lies a reference work with one whopper of an error!

#tom baker #fact checking #five doctors #from the draft vaults

[radiosandrecordings]

Based on this post I made earlier. Also available on ao3 here. 

Warning for implied sexual content, but nothing is detailed and Jon isn’t involved in any way. 

Jon felt himself relax as he found a free seat on the train, letting out a sigh. To be on your way home on a Friday was always a good thing, but getting an unexpected half day was especially nice. 

He’d been trying to cut down on the amount of time he spent in work recently. Martin had been badgering him about it, and for once he let himself take the opportunity to not push himself beyond what was required. Besides, he always felt rather lonely on Friday’s, heading off to work by himself while his partners still slept. It was one of Martin’s days off from the library, and Gerry taught the evening class that day, so he didn’t have to be at the art school until eight. 

He pulled out his phone to text them both, tell them he’d be home early, before realising rather too late that no, after five years of living in London there wasn’t suddenly signal on the tube. 

He slid his phone back into his pocket. It’d just have to be a surprise then. He was only about ten minutes from his stop, and then he could walk home and get dinner on the way - or, he supposed with the early hour, lunch. He could waltz in the door and it would be a lovely surprise, and what a perfect way to start a weekend. 

~~~

“Surprise! Boss ordered us all out early, basement is getting fumigated or some such thing. I brought- Oh!” Bags of food in one hand, he used the other to push open the bedroom door. Which revealed…

“Oh, Jesus-”

“Jon?” 

Jon felt himself instinctively step back from the doorway. He tried to get words out, but his brain had decided that it didn’t exactly want to cooperate right now.

Martin pulled the sheet around himself self consciously. “Jon, we’re so sorry, we didn’t think you’d be home-”

“I’ll just go and- Uh- Put this… In the kitchen,” Jon managed to stammer out, before retreating to the safety of another room.

So… That had just happened. He had walked in on his partners… Well, having sex, to put it bluntly. Which was fine, he was fine with that, they were both adults who were allowed to do whatever they wanted. It had just caught him off guard, that’s all. He deposited the food on the countertop, and turned to lean against it, letting his eyes fall closed for a minute. 

There were hurried footsteps down the hall after him, shortly followed by Martin and Gerry appearing in the doorway. They’d both pulled underwear on, and Gerry was wearing a shirt which, judging by the size, was probably actually Martin’s. Both of them looked about as mortified as Jon felt. 

“Are you okay?” Was the first words out of Gerry’s mouth. Jon saw his hand move, as if to touch Jon’s arm in that way he did so often when he knew Jon was upset, but he hesitated before pulling back. 

“What? Yes, yes of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?” and Jon was aware that, for a man desperately trying to convince himself that he was not panicking, it kind of sounded like he was panicking. 

“Well, you’re answering questions like that for starters,” Martin replied, and his voice was the right amount of calming and reasonable that he knew Jon needed right now. “Breath, love.”

Jon took the advice. In. Out. Look up to meet Martin’s eyes. “Yes, I’m- I’m fine. I’m sorry I reacted so… Adversely, I wasn’t expecting, well, that.” 

“Do not start apologising over this. You did nothing wrong, we know this is a boundary for you, and we’re sorry we crossed that.”

Jon took a second before responding. “No, it’s… You two shouldn’t have to apologise either. You thought I wouldn’t be home for another four hours, I can’t fault you for wanting to, to have a good time in your own home. I can’t expect you to refrain from something you enjoy just because it makes me uncomfortable, especially when you didn’t expect me to be home.” 

“You okay for a hug?” Gerry asked, leaning forward against the doorframe.

Jon wrinkled his nose slightly. “Maybe after a shower?” They all laughed at that, and Jon could feel the tension finally break between them. Then he coughed slightly to clear his throat. “Right, well, do you two want to go- Uhm… Finish up?” 

“No offence, but I feel like the mood has been well and truly broken,” Martin said, “I think we should probably just take your advice on that shower,” he linked his hand with Gerry’s, and began to pull him away towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get the lunch ready,” Jon said, smiling through it as he began to take out plates. 

~~~ 

Ten minutes later and all three of them were seated around the table, portioning out various containers of food. 

“So is this a regular occurrence?” Jon asked, when they were all comfortably settled. Gerry nearly choked on his drink. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I’m never home on Friday’s. Is this when the…” Jon trailed off, pausing to laugh at his own phrasing before he’d even got it out, “When the magic happens, so to speak?” 

Gerry let out a groan, and Martin’s face was buried in his hands, and knowing him, extremely flushed. “I mean not- Not every Friday,” he managed to mumble. 

“But the majority of them?” 

“... Yeah,” Gerry admitted. 

Jon smirked. Now that nothing was directly going on, he was substantially more comfortable about teasing his partners than he was twenty minutes ago. “And what was the thought process behind that?” 

“Well, we know you don’t like sex. Obviously. And we do. So we compared all of our schedules-” 

“He made a spreadsheet,” Gerry interrupted, “A sex spreadsheet. Can you believe him. This is who we’re dating.” 

“And we’re very lucky to have him,” Jon said, grabbing Martin’s hand from across the table and pressing a kiss to it.

“As I was saying,” Martin said, blush returning with the kiss, “We compared the schedules and Friday was the only time you weren’t home when Gerry and I were… So… Fridays.” 

Jon laughed. “As adorably nerdy as that is… Why did you feel the need to do that?” 

“Well not all of us are ace,” Gerry started, “And our boyfriend is particularly handsome so-” 

“Yes, yes, no, I get that bit,” Jon interrupted, waving his hand to stop Gerry from elaborating any further. “I just meant.. Why all the cloak and dagger?” 

“Well, we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Martin said with enough earnesty that it made Jon’s heart ache slightly. 

“So you didn’t want me to be around for it?” 

“It’s more that we thought you wouldn’t want to be around for it,” Gerry said. 

“Oh, that’s…” Jon was a little stunned. He wasn’t quite sure how to handle that. To know that his two favourite people that he loved so much, cared about him to the extent where they would schedule that kind of thing around his own comfort. “How long have you been doing this?” 

“... As long as we’ve lived together?” Martin admitted, voice trailing up at the end. 

A year. They’d been conducting this elaborate plan for a year and he hadn’t noticed. All to make sure he was comfortable. Jon felt himself tearing up slightly. “That’s… That’s very… Thank you. Thank you. But really, there’s no need for that, it’s fine, I promise.” 

“What do you mean?” Gerry asked, eyebrow furrowing. 

“You were pretty firm that you really wanted no part in that kind of thing,” Martin said. 

“I don’t!” Jon said, raising both palms, “That’s- No, that bit hasn’t changed, and I doubt it ever will. I just meant… I don’t really mind, if you two want to have some time together while I’m here?” The two looked slightly shocked, and he hastily continued, “I don’t want to be involved, or anything, I just meant you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide that from me?” 

He let out a sigh. “I love you both very, very much. And I’m so grateful that you care enough about my boundaries that you would go to sheerly ridiculously lengths like that for me. But I don’t need to be shielded from it. My reaction earlier was mostly out of surprise. If in future you were to just… Tell me when, I would happily make myself at home in the living room with a book, or go for a walk or something. I don’t want you to feel like I’m something you have to accommodate.” 

Gerry reached a hand across the table and took one of Jon’s. Martin followed suit, gently tracing circles across his knuckles. “Are you sure?” he asked, concern evident in his voice.

“I think you can trust me to make my own decision on this one. I will always tell you when something is wrong, or makes me uncomfortable, or unhappy. This isn’t one of them. I want both of you to be happy as I am in this relationship and that means not having to literally check your calendar to see if you’re allowed to have sex.” 

Gerry leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Your right. We should’ve trusted you enough to tell you. At first it was a little… We didn’t want to freak you out or anything, and then after a while it just didn’t seem like a big deal? We probably should’ve tried to communicate better rather than just deciding we knew better.”

“It came from a place of love,” Jon said, returning the kiss by pressing one to his forehead, and then Martin’s in turn. “But I agree. More communication in future sounds good.” 

“And we’ll buy you some noise cancelling headphones,” Gerry smiled.

“Christ, really?” 

“That one was a joke.” 

“Oh thank god.”

#My Post #Jongerrymartin #My Writing #The Magnus Archives #Jonmartin #Jongerry #Gerard Keay #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood

[robinrequiems]

Now that you mentioned it, can I have some track star player! Damian and basketball captain! Jon 👀

👀

• Baskebtall November-march, & outdoor track & soccer is March-June. pspspspspsps! I know Jack shit about sports (:

• in freshmen year, damian found himself bored, he had so much built up on energy that he needed to release. damians not a.. team player, so he joined a sport that didn’t really require you to be a team player. track.

• damian could run okay? he could run fast. so it was perfect, so now, as a junior, he was known for winning the school track trophies but Damian wasn’t as well known as jon. captain of the basketball team, a boy cherished by the school for bringing home a trophy for the first time in years. their basketball team was bad, but then, little freshmen jonny joined

• he just joined for fun, he didn’t expect to get in, he also liked played basketball with his brother, so he just tried out. ( that’s what he said at least ) sure, at the start he wasn’t the best player, but then, during their first game? he was playing amazingly. apparently the boys great under pressure

• he slowly rose up in the team and became well known, there was always a girl or two chasing after him in the halls ( jon didn’t really care for them.. he was more interested in the track star )

• jon fell in love with damian. no.. well.. jon had a crush on him since freshmen year. why, you may ask? ..he likes his personality, jon remembers getting lost in the falls as a freshmen and then sophomore Damian going to help him. was he laughing at him? definitely.

• people said damian was rude, jon said otherwise. he may not know damain that well, but he could see kindness in him

• his team members called him a simp. he.. no.. he wasn’t a simp? all he did was defend damian

• people said jon didn’t even know damian, but jon feels like he’s known him for years.. like they were partners or something ( am i hinting at reincarnation and a potential reincarnation arc in this au 👁 or am I hinting at doing a reincarnation au? the world will never know)

• jon believes there’s more to Damian than people think

• Maya is the captain of the girls soccer team, Tai is apart of the basketball team, Kathy is a cheerleader, and billy is a football player

• damian is friends with maya and sorta friends with tai due to club activities ( art ), & an acquaintance of Kathy because Maya is dating kathy ( today is a date I ship kathymaya )

• jon is friends with tai, Kathy ( childhood friends ), Maya ( Kathy’s gf so he knows Kathy’s gf ), & billy

• damian often saw jon in the halls, jon tried to smile at Damian, but damain just ignored them. he didn’t know Jon. stranger danger

• jons last game was coming yo, the championship, damians track season was about to start soon, the school was amped up

• it was the final game and jon was so hyped

Jon: Hey! Damian!

Damian:

Damian: what.

Jon: the um.. my last game.. it’s.. it’s friday.. and I was wondering if.. if you’d go?

Damian: I was already going.

Jon: really!

Damian: yes, tai invited me.

• a slight lie on damians part

• but he briefly heard tai ask Maya if she would come, and Maya normally brought Damian along ( much to his dismay.. )

• jon eyes lit up when he heard the name tai. Damian knows tai. TAI KNOWS DAMIAN

Jon: TAI

Tai: Jesus Christ, jon-

Jon: you know Dam— d a - frick - Damian

Tai: yeah?

Jon: set us up! match make! okay cupid!

Tai: are you sure english is your first language, ‘cause..

Jon; tai!

Tai: why do you even want to go out with him???

Jon: he’s pretty…

Tai: he’s mean

Jon: he is not!

• tai did not know what world jon wad living in

• but. tai was one of jons best friends so, he of course, tried to help:)

Tai: hey, shithead

Damian: oh my god, don’t talk to me

Tai: I need a favor

Damian: no.

Tai: you owe me.

• damian did owe him, tai took him to the er one time when he he fucked his ankle up after doing something stupid

Damian: what.

Tai: I need you to wear the number 3 to the game

Damian: 3– that’s - the boys- jons. why?

Tai: don’t ask.

• so that’s how Damian ended up wearing a shirt with the number 3 on it, Maya laughed at him

• oops. but Damian didn’t really care that much. but him wearing jons stupid number started rumors

• damian didn’t really label his sexuality, jon was openly bi, do that wasn’t the problem. the problem was that they thought they were dating

• damian didn’t like that and found it annoying. you see, damian didn’t really know of jons crush, he didn’t pay enough attention to the boy, it wasn’t like he was in any of his classes anyways.

• ( tai and Damian are sorta actually good friends, they have that insulty friendship and share a lot of classes, Maya is senior, along with Billy, Kathy’s a junior w/ tai n billy )

• damian really didn’t care for jon. at all.. until he actually saw him. the last time he saw jon. he was.. noodle like.

• now? he was not. he didn’t really fully pay attention to jon before. sure he’s saw his smile and face, but oh my god.

Damian: hes hot

Maya: what?

Damian: n.. nothing. Sorry.

• he did not mean to narrate his thoughts there. Damian didn’t care for team sports, but looking at jon play? wow.

• the way jon ran around, he was so. Elegant.

• damian was seriously ogling jon. Damian has never felt more embarrassed. he hates when people focused on his looks and here he was. doing the same. he wanted to commit mass murder. on himself. right now.

• meanwhile, Maya was just trying to watch her girlfriend who was sitting on the bench while Damian was having a mini breakdown on how shallow he was being

• ( told you guys, Damian will always be dramatic in any universe )

Maya: you good there-?

Damian: no.

Maya: great, it’s half time, I’m gonna go say hi to kathy

• he couldn’t believe Maya was leaving him in his misery

• meanwhile, jon was fsngirling. Damian was here. Damian. Wearing his number. Oh shit.

Jon: tai tai tai tai!!!!!!! Thank you thank you thank you!

Tai: yeah yeah, you owe me

• jon played so well that day too, they ended up winning the game. no one knew where jon got that sudden burst of energy when he was beginning to get tired, but he did

• and he got the winning shot

Kathy: geez, jon! good job!

Jon: thank you!

Maya: thought you guys were gonna lose

Tai: thanks Maya

Maya: anytime <3

Jon: I’m gonna say hi to damian, wish me luck!

Maya: luck wished

Tai: don’t combust when he looks at you!

• tai is the best wing man <3

• but anyways damians still in the bleachers, trying to hide from the world

Jon: Damian!

Damian: yes?

Jon: thanks for coming! I think you were my good luck charm

• jon should have not said that out loud, but he did.

• and Damian chose to just: not comment on it.

• a week or something later and it’s damians track meet

• he has started looking forward to jons smiles in the halls, but he still pretends that he never sees it. he learned a few things about jon, how he’s truly a sweetheart, probably the nicest person in the planet— as long as you don’t mess with his friends, and failing English class

• but damian doesn’t have the time to pine, he spends his hours now running, jumping hurdles, jumping, and yadayada.

• he was excited. he was. he was just: wow. he was hyped up, energy was building up in him as anticipation built up for the first meet. It was currently Monday, the first meet will be Wednesday. Three days.

• and in those three days, he was his own enemy. sleep- sleep did not come easily. Not at all. His thoughts kept him up and awake, thinking about the possibilities, it was absolute garbage.

Maya: geez, you look like a zombie

Damian: feel like one

Tai: hey dude did you bring th— ooh yikesss

Damian: shut up.

• damian was 100%my grumpy that day and glared at all passing bystanders

• but jon had began sitting at Damian’s table, along with Tai ( 😡 )

• damians table consisted of Maya, sometimes Kathy, Maps, && Colin. Colin was also apart of the track team

Jon: uh, D- are you okay?

Damian: mmhhhshshshjsnm

• jon and Damian started calling each other by D and J, they don’t know why, it just happened

• jon wanted to go to damians meet, but he didn’t exactly know if Damian would like that? it was.. complicated

• he didn’t even know if him and damian were friends, they barely even saw each other minus the small times in the hallway and lunch

• but he did go to damians track meet, damian would never admit that he liked that Jon was there

#damijon #unfinished but #captain j and track star d #Damian wayne #au #rambles #Jon kent

[lunap95]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Super Sons (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent/Damian Wayne Characters: Damian Wayne, Jonathan Samuel Kent, Maya Ducard, Collin Wilkes, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Kon-El | Conner Kent, Kara Zor-El Additional Tags: Roommates, Domestic Fluff, adopting a pet, High School, Jealousy, Running Away, Partners in Crime, Fake/Pretend Relationship, getting caught, Heartbeats, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Masquerade, Family Vacation, Marriage Proposal, JonDami Week 2021

Hey, hey, hey! Last day of the @jondami-week  Thank you so much for reading and leaving kudos and comments, it makes me super happy! As I mentioned I'm planning on doing a longer (but not too long) fic about Damian and Jon so please if you like anything of these prompts tell me so I can have a clearer idea on how to write them. Thanks!

Day 7: joint family vacation | proposal | free day

You can also read it under the cut

“Stephanie, I swear to God if you play that stupid song one more time.”

“Shut up, Jason, you didn’t have a good music taste even before your first death.”

“Come on, guys, I’m sure we can find something nice for every-” Duke dodged a hamburger and decided it was better not to get in between.

“Has anyone seen my sunglasses?” asked Conner, his sunglasses obviously over his head.

“No,” answered Tim not even making an attempt at pointing his mistake.

“I’m just saying, it would totally rock if you made a ‘Is Bruce Wayne Batman?’ headline,” Cassandra nodded at Dick’s words.

“You know it would actually be really funny,” Lois smirked, her smile too similar to one of the evildoers they usually fought.

“Not it wouldn’t!” interrupted Barbara visibly angry. “Because then we, instead of him, will have to deal with it later.”

“I stopped dealing with Bruce’s shit a long time ago, you should do the same,” proclaimed Kate taking a sip of his wine.

“This is the fourth time I have to repair a train, Kent,” argued Bruce on the other side of the field. “Is it really too much to ask to show a little restrain?”

“Oh, excuse, mister billionaire, next time a train is about to run over some innocent citizens I will kindly ask the train to stop,” refuted Clark.

“The only thing I’m saying,” not too far Alfred was in the middle of another discussion with Martha and Jon Kent. “that the recipe is obviously done with raisins.”

“Raisins? Maybe in that rainy spot of yours,” Martha seemed to be terribly offended. “But not here.”

Damian sighed for the hundredth time that day watching how the whole family continued creating absolute chaos. If his calculations were right there were just a few minutes left before someone screamed “food fight”. Next to him, Jon munched on a hamburger as if the picture did not bother him at all.

“Let’s have some picnic together, you said,” said Damian. “It would be fun, you said.”

“I think is nice.”

“Your cousin tried to throw Todd over the roof just an hour ago.”

“And I think Steph is about to ask her to do it again,” laughed Jon pointing at were Jason and Steph continued to argue about the music, Duke and Cass now enjoying their exchanged while eating popcorns.

“At least Grayson has stopped with the puns,” he was starting to question why the hell he had accepted Jon’s idea, this was bound to end in disaster.

“Well, actually I think he is telling my mum that story about the Napkin man.”

Jon could not help but smile at his groan. Maybe their families were a bit… chaotic when they met, but he actually enjoyed spending time together like this. As long as he kept a safe distance between him and Jason’s guns there should not be a problem (he still remembered when the Red Hood first discovered he was dating his younger brother, that had been a fun chase). And deep down he knew Damian enjoyed them too, but his boyfriend was too stubborn to admit it.

“I just don’t understand why you insisted so much on this.”

The box in his pocket seemed to get heavier with his words. They have been dating for almost eight years, living together for six of them. While he worked as a journalist in the Daily Planet, Damian had his hands full with inheriting the Batman legacy and leading the new Gotham Justice team along with Duke, although he still made some art exhibitions from time to time. He still went out as Superboy, mostly with Damian, but the defence of Metropolis had gone mainly to Supergirl and Conner, who now called himself Supernova. Their fathers had told them they would soon pass their mantle to them and Jon had decided he wanted to ask the big question before that happened.

“D, mind walking with me for a minute?”

Damian raised an eyebrow confused as to why his boyfriend wanted to walk on the same fields that had seen him grow, but he decided it would be way better than staying there. They walked while holding hands, chatting about their little things until they reached a familiar forest.

“Does it ring a bell?” Jon smiled.

“This is where we first met,” realised Damian. “Well, when I kidnap you after discovering you were a threat to society.”

“Well, you suspicious turned out to be correct, only not to society,” he winked at him. “Only a threat to you.”

“Hmm,” Damian wrapped his hands around his neck. “Maybe I should have let you tied on the examination table of the Batcave.”

“Then, you wouldn’t have this.”

Jon then proceeded to kneel in front of him, taking the box out of his pocket. Damian didn’t say anything but his eyes widened.

“Damian Wayne,” he proclaimed. “I never thought I could hate anyone more than the first time I met you. But with time, you showed me the great person you are. Because many might think of you as brash and arrogant, but I know your actions speak more than your words. I have seen you bleed for your teammates, cry for your brothers and sister and take care of your pets as if they were the most valuable thing on this planet,” he opened the box to show a ring with a green gemstone. “You became my best friend and later the love of my life and I can’t think of a better person to share the rest of my life with so… would you do me the super honour of becoming my husband?”

“Did you have to add the super thing?” but Damian was smiling and he could swear his eyes were shinning. “Of course I do, you sap.”

Jon did not waste any time jumping to capture his lips while putting the ring on his finger. The gem was the same shade in his eyes and the moment Jon saw it he knew he wanted his boyfriend to wear it.

“I’m going to make you the happiest man on Earth,” he whispered between kisses.

“I already am.”

There were still a lot of hardship to face, millions of adventures waiting for them on the corner, but in that instant, in the same forest where they met, both could feel the strength of their bond. A union that could not be broken by time or dangers, a connection that will be with them until the time they expired their last breath. So for the moment, they enjoyed this moment and the pure bliss of knowing they would never be alone as long as the other was next to them.

#jondami week #jondami week 2021 #jondami #damijon #damian wayne #jon kent #jonathan samuel kent #super sons #batman media #superman media #fanfic

[imalwaysintune]

Soft JonMartin

Maybe, He thought, things will be okay for a little while. Inspiration taken from @ggracee ‘s art!

———————————–

Jonny and Martin sat in Martin’s apartment, on the worn leather couch Martin had gotten from his mother. Neither of them said anything, nor were they touching apart from the very tips of their pinky fingers.

Martin had insisted on caring for Jon, bandaging up his wounds and cleaning off the dirt that seemed to cover every inch of him. But Jon had said nothing, simply sitting on the couch and putting his head in his hands. Martin had sat next to him, being careful as to not overwhelm the fragile man sitting on his couch

He waited for Jon to break the silence, and sat there staring at the man he loved instead of using his words. Soon enough Jonny raised his head and looked at Martin, a feeling he had grown familiar with flowing through his chest. He didn’t quite know what it was yet, and The Eye didn’t seem inclined to let him Know.

He smiled. A weak and weary smile that held the weight of the entire world within it, but a smile nonetheless. Martin followed, smiling softly and moving his hand ever so slightly into Jon’s.

For as weak as he looked, Jon was strong. He gripped Martin’s hand tight and the feeling that went through his chest before seemed dull compared to what washed over him now.

Finally he broke the silence.

“Martin, I’m.. I’m sorry. For everything. If I had known this would happen-”

“Jon, please,” Martin pleaded. “You couldn’t have known. None of us knew this was going to happen. None of us knew the Slaughter was going to try and take down the institute again.”

“But if I had just paid attention. If I hadn’t been so hungry, so… so… useless.”

Martin sighed and looked towards the kitchen. The urge to make tea was strong, to do something that would comfort the broken man sitting in front of him. “Everything is okay, Jon. Basira, Daisy, me, you, we’re all okay. Look, why don’t you hop in my shower. Clean all the grub and dirt off you, and I’ll make us some tea and biscuits. Yeah?”

Again, Jon smiled and all at once became aware of how filthy he was. He didn’t want to intrude, but desperately wanted a shower. So he agreed, and made his way down the hall towards the bedroom.

Before, however, he walked into the bathroom at the end of the hall, he passed the door to Martin’s room. Or, what he assumed to be Martin’s room. The door was cracked, and he could see a bed and dresser through the small sliver the door allowed.

He strained to hear what Martin was doing in the kitchen, and heard him whistling ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ very out of tune. He smiled bigger this time, and slowly pushed the door open.

The first thing that caught his eye was a bright blue box sitting on the edge of what he assumed to be Martin’s bed. He slowly walked over and sat on the bed, careful to not get too much dirt on the clean covers. He laid his hand on the box, and realized with a jolt that it wasn’t locked.

Suddenly his head felt like it was filling with water, and he tried to push the feeling down. He didn’t want to know what was in the box, he didn’t want to invade Martin’s privacy like that. And nothing The Eye could do was going to force him.

But Jon would have been lying to himself if he said that he didn’t remember anything he was just fed. He knew that the box contained something about him, and he felt almost embarrassed for wanting to look inside even more now.

But fate wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily, as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. “Jon, sorry about this, but I seem to have forgotten to give you a towel, and-” Martin’s voice could be heard getting louder as he was coming down the hallway to the bathroom.

But his eyes connected with Jon’s through the now open doorway, and the words died on his lips.

He suddenly burst into action, shuffling up the box that sat on the bed and shoving it under his dresser, cheeks flushed red and eyes wild. “You weren’t… you didn’t look in there, did you?”

Jon sat there stunned and took a moment to regain his composure before speaking again, “Martin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t look in the box. I just… I saw your room and was curious as to what was in here, and-”

Martin cut him off, laughing softly at first, soon growing into full body laughter where he had to hold his stomach as if it hurt. Jon sat there dumbfounded, not knowing what was an appropriate reaction for the ridiculous situation he seemed to find himself in.

“Jon, you’re so different. A few years ago, I never could have imagined you’d be sitting in my apartment, much less my bedroom, looking at a box that I thought would never been seen by anyone else. And you’re sitting here, apologizing to me for, what? Being curious? That’s who you are now Jon.”

Jon slowly got up from the bed and walked over to Martin. He bent over and picked up the box that Martin had shoved under the dresser and held it up. He looked at Martin steadily.

“I didn’t mean to Know, but I do. I know that whatever is in here contains something about me, but I’m not sure what. I would like to know, if you please”

Martin flushed ever redder, and Jon could almost feel the heat rolling off the ginger’s face. He didn’t know what he was doing, per say. He was relying on the feeling that rolled over him, the one that made his knees weak and his heart beat faster. He didn’t feel like himself. Or… maybe he felt more like himself, more human, than he had in a long time.

Martin sighed, and grabbed the box from Jon’s hands. Jon let go and stepped back, his shoulders pulled back as if to make him look taller, more intimidating. All it did to Martin, though, was make him want to grab the other man and kiss him hard on the lips. He instead decided to turn towards the bed and sit down, gently pulling the lid off the box and placing it beside him. He pulled out a piece of paper after shuffling through it a minute and held it out to Jon. It looked a couple years old, and appeared to have been torn out of a notebook. Jon grabbed it gently, but not before looking to the desk to see a tape recorder sitting on it, recording.

Jon joined Martin on the bed and began reading. It was dated about late 2016, when he had been the Archivist for only a few months. It detailed an interaction between him and Martin, but written from Martin’s perspective. Obviously, he thought, he must have hated me then.

What he read, however, was the opposite. Martin wrote such… kind words about Jon. About how he was happy to see Jon everyday. As soon as he was finished with the first letter, Martin was there with another, and another, all about him. About Jon.

About how Martin had come to terms with his sexuality at about the same time as he came to the institute. About how he realized he had a crush on Jon, but had shrugged it off as a case of “having a 'crush’ on a friend cause I’m lonely”.

But soon the letters tone shifted. They felt almost like.. love letters. Confession after confession, and Jon started tearing up as him and Martin sat in the tiny bedroom for an hour. Jon trying to hide the emotions he felt, and Martin studying his reactions carefully, trying to see if he was making a mistake.

When Jon had read all the contents of the box, he finally allowed the tears to fall from his eyes. He didn’t feel like he did a few hours ago. He felt new, more human than he had ever felt in his life.

“I wanted to tell you. I did. But you were always so closed off. I thought you hated me for awhile. That you only trusted me because there was no one else to trust. But I fell for you anyways. Despite all the signs telling me not to, I did. And this is all those years of.. choosing to stay with you. So, I’m sorry, I guess. You don’t have to say anything. We don’t have to talk about this ever again if you don’t want to. I just… felt it was the right time to get this off my chest. What with the world possibly dying soon anyways.”

Jon looked at Martin levelly before wiping the tears that ran down his cheeks, leaving streaks of clean skin through the dirt.

All he said was, “So that’s what this feeling is.”

“What feeling?” Martin replied, sounding anxious.

“I think I also feel… love. For you, Martin. I just hadn’t… realized until now.” Jon smiled and scooted closer to the other man, gently leaning his head on the freckled shoulder of Martin. His Martin.

“Are you alright?” Martin asked, glancing down at Jon. “You seem to have changed so much in the few hours you’ve been here”

“I think… it’s for the better, Martin. I don’t think I quite realized just how much I need you for stability in my life. I always would find myself wanting your company, trying to find some excuse to talk to you. So… I think I like you too, Martin.”

“So what do you want to do about it?”

Jon felt a million things run through his head. Things to say, things to do, and he settled on one he thought would be the perfect way to portray his feelings. He looks up at Martin, grabbed his head between his calloused hands, and pressed a gentle kiss on Martin’s lips.

Martin froze, unsure of what to do, before letting his body and instincts take control. He grabbed Jon’s hips and gently lifted him up and over onto his lap. Jon’s hands slid down Martin’s neck and onto his shoulders, and all at once, his joy became known. He was smiling against Martin’s mouth, and pulled back to look at his face.

He didn’t feel like himself, not really, but at that point he didn’t care. He just smiled and carefully lifted himself off and onto the floor.

“I think I’ll go take that shower now,” He said, slowly walking towards the door. “Thank you Martin, for everything. I think after we settle down, we can have a nice long talk about everything”. And just like that, he was gone around the corner. After a few seconds, Martin heard the shower head come to life and heard Jon step into the shower. He smiled to himself.

Maybe, He thought, things will be okay for a little while.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #my work #tma fanfiction #the magnus archives fanfiction #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fluff #i love them!!! #i want them to be safe but i dont think its gonna happen

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 13/18

not my gif. just the text- Threats

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order, joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a   Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12]

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse

--

The first storm of May left the school in a darkness Kate never saw before. The temperature had abruptly dropped; the exams were getting closer and the Quidditch game that week had been cancelled as a result of an avalanche that had reached the castle grounds.

Ranunculus glacialis; Draba lactea; Dryas octopetala; Cicerbita alpina... she was reading the different plants stuck together with Spello-tape and correctly classified that she had hung on the walls of the classroom. The herbarium project had been successful even among the most reluctant students; so much they begged to go to the lake and expand their works of art with aquatic plants.

With a proud smile, Kate looked out the window of the herbology class, following the comings and goings of the students who passed by and lamented their lost quidditch match.

In the distance, Mer Yankelevich was coming from the lake, wearing a large hood to protect herself from the rain.

Her gaze turned to the column. Astrid Rhode and Libor Marek were talking beside it. The teacher must have felt eyes resting on him, for he scanned his surroundings. Realising that it was Kate who was watching him, he turned his attention back to Rhode, who glanced at her as well. “In my experience,” the curse-breaker from Iceland than Rhode had hired had said, “someone has tried to break a curse that does not exist.”

In another time and in another school, all eyes would have been on Kate. Now, free of that burden, she turned to see if her students had finished copying on their scrolls the Herbivicus charm used to make plants grow at high speed.

“I know that the attempt to make the umbrella flowers germinate has not turned out as we expected. They are very obstinate flowers, but we must be even more stubborn. This Friday, we will change the fertiliser we have been using for a more refined one”.

Thunder rumbled on the castle walls and some children began to get restless.

“Perhaps they don’t like this weather,” she joked before climbing onto the platform where her desk was placed. “When we get the optimal conditions for their germination, we’ll practice the spell until they come into bloom. However, and this is very important, we must not let the flowers open yet. We want to prevent them from pollinating naturally before we select them.”

Micael Angelov raised his hand. “What about the fanged geraniums?”

“I’ve been doing several tests and they germinate properly. They are easy to control and that is why we will be working on them after getting at least ten healthy umbrella flowers...”

The classroom door blasted open, revealing a hooded figure. All the sheets and scrolls in the class were scattered with the gust of wind that came in with the stranger. Thinking that it was Mer Yankelevich, she went to the door to ask for explanations, but Corentin’s face stopped her. Surprised, Kate aired her wand to close the door and stop the cold coming in.

The librarian lowered his hood and immediately apologised to the students, who began to whisper.

“I must talk to you,” he murmured.

“Can it wait until the end of the class?”

Corentin nodded and headed for the end of the classroom where he stood on a corner without looking away from the window.  He kept looking outside until the bells indicated the end of the lesson.

“Let me know if you want to go to the greenhouse before Friday and I’ll open the door for you. Jon, you must give me the list of your inventory, ah! Wait! I have your works on the mandrakes corrected, on Wednesday we will comment on it... Be careful outside!”

When the class was free of students, Kate approached Corentin, who was looking at her with a sly smile.

“You are getting more comfortable here.”

“What’s going on?”

“Last night someone went through my desk. Don’t worry, they were unsuccessful. I have the plans well in hand, but that shows that someone has the same goal as us.”

“And also that they have been spying on us.” She waited a moment and added, “This is not a good sign, Corentin.”

“I advise we continue with our... project.” With one hand, he gestured to the windows, and the curtains closed, leaving them in almost total darkness, except for the candlesticks on the ceiling.

He shook his sleeve, and from a black smoke the different scrolls that made up Nerida Vulchanova’s maps appeared.

Kate had some candles levitated, providing light and some warmth around them. From her desk, she took out seven books on magic walls, curses, portals and doors, and as every day since the discovery of Nerida’s painting, they began their study session.

After a couple of hours, Kate dropped her head on the desk with a thud.

“I have superposed all the rooms, corners and nooks of these plans, and they are all dead ends.”

“And there is nothing in these books that works... There are spells, incantations, words and words that say wonderful things and nothing at the same time. It’s like reading a blank page...”

“Did you wake up poetic today?”

“What do you think is inside?” Her voice sounded a little nasal, as she had her entire face smashed against a book, “One of the Deathly Hallows?”

“I doubt it, it’s not known if Grindelwald got any in his time at school and I don’t think, in case he had the elder wand, he came here to hide it.”

She raised her head and scanned the desk “Let me see the room behind the portrait again.”

Corentin gave her the plans,  forming the rectangle that represented the secret room.

“If you look closely, there is no passageway connecting the trophy room to this place, and I have been trying to match it to one of these, but nothing convinces me.”

“We lack information.”

“That’s obvious. But there are no other documents than the ones we have here. There is a possibility that Vulchanova destroyed them.”

“No...” she trailed off. She checked several sheets and held one that was blank. Only a triangle adorned one corner. “My grandmother was a Muggle...”

Corentin raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want you to take this as a lack of interest, but what does it have to do with this?”

“When I was a child, I was not allowed to see my grandparents. One of the conditions for allowing my parents to marry was to cut off contact with that branch of the family, and in return, the Williams offered my grandmother protection from anti-Muggle politics.”

“I’m sure this is going somewhere...”

“Of course my mother didn’t cut off contact. I was very young, but I remember the distinctive smell of...” she sniffed the parchment and a hint of a smirk appeared on her face, “lemonade.”

“I really try to follow you.”

“My mother wrote letters that, in the eyes of wizards, were empty. Muggles have a technique for making invisible ink.”

She extended her arm to one candle and held the paper so close to the flame that Corentin leaned over in his seat for fear that she would burn it.

As Kate moved the parchment, several lines appeared in a copper colour, which Kate recognised perfectly.

“Fascinating.”

Kate chuckled and left the parchment on the table. “I don’t think Vulchanova intended you to live in a controlling regime in order to decipher her map. Just that you knew a little about alchemy.” She pointed to the triangle in the lower corner. Corentin’s eyes shone with excitement.

He grabbed the missing piece of the map and spent long minutes trying to fit the lines over the fragment they already had. Meanwhile, Kate was trying out different pieces of parchment and new lines appeared on the existing maps as she drew them closer to the fire.

“Look,” said Corentin, “it can be accessed in several ways.” From where Nerida’s painting was, two paths branched out showing two tunnels leading to the room.

Kate gasped. By turning one of the sheets of paper, she made the newly discovered lines coincide with others drawn in ink.

Corentin imitated the procedure of heating the scrolls and, as if in a perfectly synchronised dance, they fitted each parchment with the previous one, forming a map of the ground floor that occupied the whole desk.

When Kate placed the last paper, a golden light emanated from one corner. The light moved through the junction between the papers, forking and coming together until it disappeared. Corentin raised a corner, noting with fascination and surprise that they now had a single plan of the castle.

“Wait! It’s disappearing!”

Corentin brought the map closer to the candles and the rooms and passages reappeared, making both of them sigh in relief. “With the Muggle trick that doesn’t happen.”

“Maybe she thought she had to give it a magic twist.”

 After tidying up the room, Corentin left Kate thinking about their more-than-suspicious meetings.. They had to be more careful from that moment on; if someone was watching them, they could get into trouble.

The storm had subsided, and instead of the sky it was Kate’s stomach that was roaring.

Corentin had taken her students’ books back to the library, so she exhaled happily that she could go directly to the dining hall. As she opened the curtains, she came face to face with Libor Marek, sitting on the outside stone wall.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted as she closed the door behind her.

“I thought you’d never get out.”

“Have you... been waiting for me?”

“No. There are rumours that Karkarov has returned to the grounds... I’m here on Rhode’s orders. When the students are eating, the guards reinforce the doors and this area is left empty...”

“I don’t see you too worried.”

Marek huffed and began a thorough inspection of his wand. “I will not hunt down the man who gave me a job.”

“Igor Karkarov...?”

“Yes.” He did not look up. Kate waited for him to say something else, but concluded that she would have to force him.

“Who else did he hire?”

“And how would I know that? I was the last to arrive. Well, Hodges came later, but that was Rhode’s doing.” He shook his head and put his wand up his sleeve before looking around. “I’m going to eat.”

“Didn’t she tell you to stand guard?”

Marek walked up to her and in a raspy voice said, “I would stop whatever it is that you’re doing .”

The difference in height gave Kate some security, but she chose not to adjust her stance to one of defiance; the last thing she wanted was to duel that man again. “Watch your back.”

Marek squinted and left her standing in the cold, wondering if he was referring to himself or someone else.

The rest of the week proved uneventful. After the discovery of Nerida’s complete map, Kate avoided the library as part of an unspoken agreement with Corentin. The librarian, for his part, did not contact her until Thursday afternoon when they enjoyed each other’s company with some tea and biscuits.

Only one sentence was exchanged about their research and that was Corentin commenting nothing out of the ordinary had happened and that only Sheyi Mawut approached the library to borrow a book on batting techniques.

Friday’s class in the greenhouse was fruitful; Kate’s students managed to germinate seven umbrella flowers with the new fertiliser, eight according to the children, who took the flower grew in such a way that it shot up into the air, opening a gap in the greenhouse roof, as a success.

Kate proposed a prize for whoever found the flower when it fell.

The path to her room after the class was full of obstacles; the students, motivated by the proximity of the competition, practiced their spells and incantations in the corridor or moved in groups to see the lists of participants.

Amidst robes and hats, Kate spotted Leron Angelov’s head in the distance. She had no intention of worrying about him until she saw him stagger down the hall. He rested both hands on a door and dropped his head forward.

There were students everywhere, but Kate could perfectly see Cassandra Steiner make her way through to Leron. She opened the door and pushed him into the room.

With firm steps she advanced to the classroom at the end of the corridor and without waiting a second more, she muttered Alohomora, and burst inside.

Like a niffler caught in the middle of a robbery, Cassandra looked up with big eyes. Her expression hardened instantly. She waved her wand to where Kate was and she heard the click of the door closing.

Without her eyes off Leron Angelov, she moved closer to get a better look.

He seemed to be standing in a strange position. His eyelids were not fully closed, his arms hung like two dead weights on either side of his torso and his legs... his legs did not touch the ground.

He floated in the air, without a broom, without a spell. His posture was grotesque, and Kate looked at him in horror because even though she saw no rope, he seemed to be hanging.

“Is... is he dead?” she asked with a trembling voice. She sought the healer’s gaze, but she was busy airing out the desks in the centre to create a larger table. “Steiner, is he dead?”

“No. Shut up. Help me with him.”

Both healers grabbed Angelov’s body and turned it in the air until it was in a horizontal position.

“Hold him against the table.” Kate obeyed and put her hands on Leron’s chest. She had to use a lot of strength as the body insisted on levitating.

Meanwhile, Cassandra moved around the makeshift table, uttering a spell repeatedly. Angelov’s hands and ankles were quickly anchored to the wood.

“You can let go.” She informed, before heading for the windows and starting to close the curtains.

Kate watched his eyes move behind the eyelids, and small wrinkles appeared on his forehead from time to time. As a good healer, she followed the inspection, looking for symptoms that could explain the teacher’s unusual situation.

The buttons on his left sleeve were open, revealing a red and bruised arm.  By removing the sleeve completely, she discovered what Leron Angelov had been hiding.

Puncture marks covered the inside of his elbow, made so fiercely that a wound had begun to form.

Kate let go of a slow breath and reached into the pockets of his tunic.

“You won’t find anything,” announced Cassandra, “I’ve already taken care of it.”

“What is it that makes him be like this?”

“Something called Billywig.” Kate exhaled at the news. She should have deduced that before. She watched as Cassandra opened a small chest, containing several rows of vials, and grabbed one. “Although you already knew…”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t try to fool me. Didn’t Rhode ask you to spy on him? To catch him in the act?”

“I’m pretty sure that Rhode doesn’t know about this.” Steiner stared at her.

“Does he sting himself in the greenhouse?”

“Not since you started using it. Thanks for that, by the way, since you started playing teacher, it has been impossible for us to keep track of him.”

Kate frowned. “Us? Who is ‘us’?”

“You’d better get out of here, things are going to get ugly.” As if on cue, Angelov’s body moved. He opened his eyes, injected with blood, and tried to get rid of his bonds with a force that did not seem like his body.

Cassandra forced the contents of a vial into his mouth until it was empty. In a few moments, Leron fell asleep.

“Calming draught?”

“Do me a favour and stop meddling in matters that don’t concern you.” Kate ignored Cassandra’s attempts to keep her in the dark.

“Steiner, who else knows about this?” she asked with a solemnity unbecoming of the situation. “I need you to trust me.”

She wasn’t entirely convinced, but gave her an answer, anyway.

 “Jorgensen. No one else can know about this, understood? If you tell anyone, I will make sure you never set foot in this school again.”

“I wasn’t planning to do that anyway...” she replied, referring to the part about revealing his secret, but also valid for the latter statement. “May I ask... why do you keep the vials... locked up?”

“Because these potions are not part of the school’s inventory. When Igor Karkarov was here, there was no problem; Rhode implemented a budget for ingredients that Jorgensen has to meet.”

“Don’t you grow your own ingredients?”

“I thought you’d noticed that you’re the first person to use the greenhouse in a decade. Kent sometimes picks some herbs from the forest, but it’s not usual.”

“But why do you have them at the hospital wing?”

“Kent and I buy what we need for the potions, he brews them, and we used to keep them in my room until Rhode started bringing in people from the British ministry, guards, inspectors... so we moved them to a place where they wouldn’t ask questions.”

Kate looked at Leron, who was becoming agitated again. “Kent hasn’t found a formula that won’t make us waste so many potions. For now, this is what we can do.”

“Beats his son, you know?” Kate accused.

“When he’s under the influence of the Billywig liquid, he’s not aware of his actions. Giving him so much calming draught doesn’t help his memory either. Micael went into his room. I hadn’t had time to tie him up and his hand slipped out. He went after him for a while, to make sure he said nothing. Most of the time he doesn’t even go near him.”

“That doesn’t speak in his favour either.”

“I didn’t say he was going to win an award for being father of the year.”

“Why are you doing this? Isn’t it better that he’s in a hospital and not teaching?”

“Look where we are, Williams. Many of us have known each other forever. We take care of each other here.”

“And Micael? Do you take care of him too?”

“Of course we do.”

“What about the sticky box that was with the bottles?” Cassandra rolled her eyes, irritated by the interrogation.

“I pick up the billywigs that Leron leaves all over the place and give them to Jorgensen. What’s left of them is useful in some potions.”

Leron awoke with a start, and the mediwizard came to his aid immediately. When he saw Kate, he gripped Cassandra’s wrist.

“Don’t worry. She knows.” Cassandra got rid of the magical bonds and he stood up slowly. He groped the ground and after a while managed to stand up without floating. He eyed Kate as she aired her wand at the tables, making them return to their original place. She felt his mind on her, and she purposely avoided his stare.

“My wife passed away some years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She still didn’t look at him.

“I have the feeling that you’re not” at that she raised her head.

“Why is that?”

“Because of the way you looked at me at the staff meeting. With utter...disgust. You have a very expressive face, even when you think you are concealing it.”

“Your perception of me is based on your own experiences.”

“No. No, I know when a person doesn’t like me. And I could say the same thing to you.” A heavy silence fell over them. Kate watched as Cassandra organised her things.

“My son has good grades in Herbology. I didn’t think that could happen.”

“I am not giving him special treatment just because he’s a professor’s son.”

“I meant nothing of the sort. Just implying that you are.... You know how to connect with children. You... talk with them. Right?”

“Yeah, that’s...how you often interact.”

“I’m not sure if you have a wicked sense of humour or you just really despise me.”

“Everyone, at one time or another, loses a loved one. Sometimes prematurely. That doesn’t give us the right to compromise the safety of those who are still alive.”

“Who are you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You appeared out of nowhere. In the middle of the school year, and in a few months you became a teacher and the talk of the town. I hear your name everywhere, from everyone’s lips. And every time I turn around, you are there. One might think... you are up to something.”

“What exactly are you accusing me of?”

“Just an observation. But let me give you a piece of advice...”

“No. I won’t tell anyone about your condition if that’s what you’re worried about. But If you hit Micael again I swear....”

“You shouldn’t be threatening me.”

Kate found herself positively conflicted. She meant it when she said she didn’t want to betray their trust, and as a healer she wanted to help him in any way she could. However, the need to protect the boy was competing with her compassion for his father.

Abstracted by her own thoughts, Cassandra’s voice went unnoticed and only caught the last few sentences.

“We’ll get out first. Rhode will be coming to give the Dark Arts lesson now. Don’t tell her about this.” With one last look, they disappeared out the door, leaving Kate alone with her conscience.

She took a few steps towards the wall and exhaled as she let herself fall back slightly. She rested her head on the stone and closed her eyes, seeking the only thing that could comfort her at that moment.

Charlie.

Perhaps if she concentrated enough, she could connect with his mind as she had done the night they spoke through the flu net. She visualised his freckles when the sun hit them, the movement of his fingers when he drew. She tried to remember his laughter...

Kate?

She opened her eyes suddenly. Astrid Rhode looked at her with concern.

“Williams, are you all right?”

No, she hadn’t said her name before. A little upset at her cowardice preventing her from talking to Charlie in a way she would never have imagined. She peeled off the wall and nodded fervently.

“Yes! Yes... “

“Is there anything you should tell me?”

“Nothing at the moment, no. Although... I wanted to ask you: why did you send Professor Marek to stand guard at the back of the castle?”

Rhode raised her eyebrows. “I have done no such thing. Why would I?”

--

[Part 14]

Tag List: @eldritchscreech @meteora-fc @cazreadsstuff @the-navistar-carol

@am-i-space​

#charlie weasley #charlie x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley fanfiction #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x ofc #charlie weasley x oc #Kate Williams #durmstrang #for a greater good series

[adultswim2021]

Space Ghost Coast to Coast #85: “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” | December 7, 2003 - 11:30 PM | S08E04

Happy 20th anniversary, Adult Swim. And, boy, what a momentous episode of Ghost do we have here to celebrate. There are a number of episodes where the guest is an event unto itself and this is truly one of them. Frequent punchline William Shatner is an absolute cunt... and a proper legend. His cuntiness and legendary status are two things that seem to be at odds with one another, and the Space Ghost crew have managed to come up with an artfully idiosyncratic episode to match Shatner’s weird-guy-ness. It’s a classic for sure, and important. But (making a “smug dipshit” face) is it funny?

YES! It’s FUNNY! I will admit though, the first time I saw this episode I didn’t quite know what to make of it. This is partially because I’m very much a Star Trek agnostic. I’ve never been into Star Trek. In the last few years I’ve watched most of the pre-Next Gen motion pictures for inane list-making reasons, and I enjoyed them to varying degrees, but Star Trek is truly not for me. I’m more of a... well, I’m not a Star Wars guy either. What’s the other one? Uh... Spaceballs. That’s it. I’m more of a Spaceballs guy.

But I feel like I’ve absorbed a lot of Star Trek lore through cultural osmosis. I vaguely understand that William Shatner has had some deliberately-paced choreographed fight scene on those rocks from Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey. When I hear music similar to the the music that Jim Carrey hums in The Cable Guy, I’m pretty sure whatever it is I’m watching is doing a Star Trek thing. And yes, I’ve watched every single Red Letter Media “Mike and Rich talk about Star Trek for 4 hours” video. But even today, after having picked up more Star Trek knowledge on my journey to the grave, I still have this nagging feeling of “I only sort of get this”.

Still, this episode has a handful of screamingly funny lines, and the episode ends wonderfully, with Space Ghost in his death throes, suffering the ultimate indignity of dying in front of William Shatner. There’s also the part where Zorak asks why everyone in Star Trek is black, and a part where Moltar nervously reads from his fan fiction (from a book labeled TARD WARS, hahaha). Shatner, who has a reputation for being arrogant and difficult, is as good a sport as one could hope. The show makes good use of his hammier moments, and only shits on him slightly in the process. The most notable moment is when Shatner says to Zorak “didn't you and I fight to the death?” to which Zorak replies “That sounds pretty dumb, man”. I’ve actually quoted this line many times. It’s one of the best.

Also, for those of you who like to track these things: the show features callbacks to other episodes and shows; the handimen at Zorak’s apartment are clearly extras from Sealab 2020/2021, one of the Leprechauns from Aqua Teen Hunger Force shows up, and there’s a poignant callback to classic Space Ghost episode “Banjo”. 

The title motif of this season is naming the episodes after Allman Brothers songs, and I always wondered about this one. Maybe I’m reaching, and it’s probably too disrespectful to be true, but I always thought that it was somehow a veiled reference to Shatner’s wife, whom he supposedly killed or let die. It’s simply too dark to be true, but it’s the first thought that immediately jumped to my mind when I first heard the title of this episode. Am I stupid for thinking this? Am I stupid because it OBVIOUSLY is a reference to that?? I simply do not know. I would like to know.

MAIL BAG

The big anniversary is upon us. What are your 20 favorite things about adult swim for 20 years going. Don't sleep on this question!

I gotta do SOMETHING special, so I might as well do this. More thought could have gone into this, but I spent about an hour trying to come up with episodes or moments from 20 different shows and putting them in rough chronological order. I limited myself to one episode/scene/moment/joke/whatever per show so it’s not all Space Ghost jokes. So, here we go:

Sealab 2021: “I, Robot”. Adult Swim proved it could be brilliant right out of the gate with the stealth premiere of “I, Robot”, but for Sealab it’s all downhill from here. (2000)

Space Ghost Coast to Coast: Space Ghost stops in his tracks to reminisce about the time Bobcat Goldthwait said "crack a window". The entire episode “Kentucky Nightmare” is brilliant, but this moment in particular so uniquely captures my sense of humor that it’s inexplicable. The dumb look on Space Ghost’s face when he stops in his tracks. Goddamn. (2001)

Aqua Teen Hunger Force: “Mayhem of the Mooninites” I tried very hard to make this all be individual jokes or scenes or whatever, but this is another episode where the entire thing is just line after line and I can’t really pick. This, “I Robot”, and “Kentucky Nightmare” is like a perfect trio illustrating how good Adult Swim really was right out of the gate. (2001)

Home Movies: Jason casually reveals that his parents have no idea who Brendon and Melissa are and that he spends most of his free-time making movies with them. This is the episode “Storm Warning” which is overall one of the best episodes of Home Movies, but this scene is probably my favorite. Illustrates how simple and hilarious the comedy is on this show. (2002)

Tom Goes to the Mayor: the end scene in “Undercover”, where they’ve shoddily reversed Tom’s various unnecessary surgeries and called him “Taumpy Tears” to boot. Positively sublime. (2006)

Metalocalypse: Dr. Rockso’s music video. From the episode “Dethclown”. I was never in love with this show as much as the true fans were, but there were a handful of incredible episodes. This episode basically tells one joke over and over and it’s very funny. It really ends with a bang showcasing Dr. Rockso’s shitty music video that celebrates cocaine use. His singing voice is hilarious. (2006)

Assy McGee: I am the only person in the world that defends Assy McGee as being “actually pretty good” and it’s all entirely due to this one line: Assy McGee (a pair of naked buttocks with legs, whose ass functions as his head) is forced to attend a black tie event and is just milling around wearing nothing but a black bow tie. Through clenched anus he delivers the line “I can barely breathe in this penguin suit”. The whole show is worth it for that joke. I don’t even know what episode it is except that it’s from one of the first few. I might not even have the line exactly right. But, I remember laughing so hard. I may not have laughed at Assy McGee again. (2006)

Saul of the Mole Men: The opening theme song. And nothing else. (2007)

Tim & Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!: Jim and Derrick. I should pick something more user-friendly maybe, since this episode almost entirely relies on being familiar with Tim & Eric’s previous episodes. But goddamn, this episode is such a funny concept (which is basically Tim & Eric doing an alternate MTV-ified version of Awesome Show) (2008)

Moral Orel: “Numb”. When Moral Orel suddenly stopped being a quirky Adult Swim comedy and suddenly started doing episodes that resembled art films. This episode is a fucking masterpiece. I remember sobbing the first time I saw it. There are a few in season 3 that are like that, but this one is my favorite. (2008)

Check it Out! with Dr. Steve Brule: Terry Bruge-Hiplo reviews “Dumpster’s Children”. Another bit of comedy that I’d describe as “inexplicable” and “sublime”, and it all hinges on an old man’s mouth. Holy fuck. I don’t think I’ve laughed harder than this at a TV show since. (2010)

Delocated: The ending of “Mole”, an extended Face/Off riff where Jon goes undercover as the scary mobster Sergei. In the final moments of the episode he marries a woman, fathers multiple children with her, and only then is pulled out of the mission. The episode is a tour-de-force of comic acting by Steve Cirbus, who is graciously allowed to shine for most of the episode. But man, that ending is fucking wonderful. (2010)

Venture Bros.: The ending of “Operation P.R.O.M.” a flurry of emotions hit me when “Like a Friend” by Pulp starts playing. The scene is so well done and weirdly touching. Brock realizes that deep down he gives a shit about the Venture family and is genuinely terrified something might happen to them. And then he gets to slaughter a bunch of Zorak monsters, which is also weirdly sweet. It’s even touching on a meta-level knowing that Jackson and Doc tried many times and failed to include licensed music in the show. I love Venture Bros, but I think we’d all be better off if this were the series finale. Sorry. I had to say it. (2010)

The Heart She Holler: The first scene with Patton being taught the way of the world posthumously by his father on a VHS tape. The first season of this show is amazing, but that scene, especially where Patton does a little Japanese bow and says “oh, hot dog!” is just hysterical. Literally every time a hot dog comes up in conversation my wife and I quote it. Please, do not scorn her, it’s not racist when SHE does it. (2011)

Eagleheart: The All That Jazz inspired finale. “Paradise Rising” is mostly a masterpiece, and how it ends is so fucking incredible. Easily the most under-rated show on Adult Swim and I’m not just saying that because... you know (mimes dick-sucking) (2014)

Rick and Morty: I watched the first two episodes of Rick and Morty, thought it was good, but for some reason didn’t become a devotee until my wife made me watch the Mr. Poopybutthole episode. It’s still my favorite episode, I think. (2015)

Brett Gelman’s Dinner in America: The “Dinner with” specials are all really good, but goddamn, this one hits. Should be shown in schools. I am going to go to every grade school in my county with an AR-15 (to get past the guards, of course) and I won’t leave until they call an assembly and they let me fumble around trying to find it on vimeo and play it for the students. (2016)

The Eric Andre Show: Eric interviews Steve Schirripa. The bit where he has an intern dip his balls in Steve’s spaghetti sauce is hilarious, naturally, but I’m here to showcase the running gag where every time Steve complains how hot the studio is, Eric just wordlessly hands him an ice cube until Steve explodes. It’s one of the most childishly hilarious things I’ve ever seen. It’s perfect. (2016)

Million Dollar Extreme Presents: World Peace: The Pick-Up artist sketch. I’m mostly unimpressed with MDE, and all but a few Sam Hyde bits leave me cold. But this sketch is a crowning achievement. I mean, I think these guys suck politically and are more mean than funny, but their sensibilities yielded one really incredible piece of comedy. Okay, I laughed at the blackface sketch too. There. You dragged it out of me. (2016) Joe Pera Talks With You: This show is beautiful and I love every episode. But the episode “Joe Pera Reads You The Church Announcements” Wherein Joe discovers a new-to-him song and can’t stop listening to it, is one of the most joyous episodes of television I’ve ever seen. A gateway episode. I tell everyone to please watch this one first. (2018)

#adult swim #space ghost coast to coast #adultswim2021

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

The Dove and Her Hound - CH. TwentyNine

Title: A New King

Words: 2,040

Warnings: Slight language

A/N: It’s almost over! Just one more chapter and the series is done, I can’t believe it! Also, if you’d like to request something, send me an ask. I’d love to write something for you! 

Taglist:  @tonbluemchen @affection-rabbit @art-flirt @10morgan10 @thatting @iwontdance-dontaskme @simsvetements

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Sandor Masterlist

Game of Thrones Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

It had been a week since your son had been born and many things had happened. You learned that one of Daenerys’ dragons had been killed, most of the fleet destroyed, and Missandei captured. Brienne had come to visit you and the child as well. She apologized for the way she handled things when she encountered your trio years ago. She did not know the significance Sandor had in your life and never knew how to approach you about it. You accepted her apology immediately and you apologized to her as well for your naïve attitude and your hate towards her.

The same night Brienne apologized to you, Jaime Lannister fled Winterfell to go back to Cersei. You had known that Brienne and Jaime were together and when you found out he left, you went to console her.

 “He doesn’t deserve you,” you said. “If he leaves you for another woman when he had you then he’s not worth your tears.”

 You wiped away the tears running down her cheeks and looked her in the eyes.

 “You are strong. You are beautiful. You deserve better. Don’t let one man ruin things for you forever. It’s okay to still love him, but don’t let that take over everything.”

 Brienne gave you a watery smile and sat up a little straighter.

 “Thank you, Lady [y/n],” Brienne said. You stood up and kissed her forehead.

 “You should get some rest. I have a feeling that we’re going to do some traveling soon.”

 ---

 Turns out that you were right. A raven arrived from King’s Landing a week later and before you knew it, you were traveling down the Kingsroad. Brienne and Sansa hadn’t wanted you go with them because of the baby, but you went anyways. It took little less than a month to get to the Capital and it looked nothing like you remembered.

 Buildings and houses were charred and crumbling. Ash was still on the streets, swept away into corners. The Red Keep was almost all burnt down. The people of King’s Landing were trying their best to rebuild their homes and lives but it would take years to get things back to the way they were.

 The raven had told you where to go and once more, you found yourself in the Dragonpit. You were seated between Sansa and Brienne, your babe on your lap. Bran and Arya were next to Sansa. You were the first ones there. Ser Davos and Gendry were the next ones to arrive, with Yara, Robin, Yhon Royce, and the rest to follow. Another person showed up with the last group and you couldn’t breathe. It was Sandor, alive and well. The two of you locked eyes and your chest hurt. He looked like he was going to approach you when Greyworm brought out Tyrion before you in chains. Jon was nowhere to be seen.

 “Where’s Jon?” Sansa asked Greyworm.

 “He is our prisoner.”

 “So is Lord Tyrion,” you said. “They were both supposed to be here.”

 “We will decide the fate of our prisoners. This is our city now.”

 “If you look outside the walls of your city, you’ll find thousands of Northmen who will explain to you why harming Jon Snow is not in your interest.”

 “And you will find thousands of Unsullied who believe that it is.”

 “Some of you are quick to forgive. The Ironborn are not. I swore to follow Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow put a knife through her heart. Let them give him what he deserves,” Yara said, venom spewing from her words.

 “Say one more word about killing my brother and I’ll slit your throat.” Arya’s face was ruthless and cold. Yara made to stand up but Ser Davos beat her to it.

 “Friends, please. We’ve been killing each other for too long.” He turned to face Greyworm. “Torgo Nudho. Am I saying that properly? If it weren’t for you and your men, we would have lost the fight with the dead. This country owes you a debt that can never be repaid. But let us try. There is land in the Reach. Good land. The people that used to live there are gone. Make it your own, start your own house with the Unsullied as your bannermen.”

 “I agree. We’ve had enough war. Thousands of you, thousands of us. You know how it ends. There has to be another way,” you said.

 “We do not need payment. We need justice,” Greyworm spat. “Jon Snow cannot go free.”

 Ser Davos sat back down and Tyrion let out a small breath.

 “It’s not for you to decide,” Tyrion said.

 “You are not here to speak!” Greyworm shouted. “Everyone has heard enough words from you.”

 “You’re right. And no one’s any better for it. But it’s not for you to decide.” Tyrion looked up at everyone. “Jon Snow committed his crime here. It is for our King to decide. Or our Queen.”

 “But we don’t have a King or Queen,” Royce said.

 “You’re the most powerful people in Westeros. Choose one.”

 “Make your choice. Quickly.”

 Everyone was silent for once and was looking around at the other people. Nobody spoke until your uncle stood up. He started a little speech talking about him being one of the senior lords in the country and that he knew a little bit about statecraft. It was then that Sansa intervened.

 “Uncle. Please sit,” she said. He kind of spluttered a bit and only sat down when Sansa gestured to his seat with her head. He backed into a pole and it took all your willpower not to laugh.

 “Well, we have to choose someone,” Royce said. That’s when Sam got up and suggested that the people help pick a monarch. Everyone did laugh at that and Sam sat back down, more than slightly embarrassed. It was a funny notion, but you didn’t laugh at your friend.

 “I suppose you want the crown,” your uncle said to Tyrion.

 “Me? No. Half the people hate me for serving Daenerys and the other half hate me for betraying her. Can’t think of a worse choice.”

 “Who then?” You asked.

 “What unites people? Armies? Gold? Flags?” Tyrion shook his head. “Stories. There’s nothing in the world more powerful than a good story. Nothing can stop it. No enemy can defeat it. And who has a better story than Bran the Broken?”

 You sat up a little straighter and looked at your siblings in confusion. When you looked back at Tyrion, he kept speaking.

 “The boy who fell from a high tower and lived. He knew he would never walk again, so he learned how to fly. He went beyond the wall. A crippled boy. And he became the Three-Eyed-Raven. He is our memory, our history. All the wars, weddings, births, massacres, and famines. Our triumphs and our defeats. Our past. Who better to lead us into the future?”

 “Bran has no interest in ruling and he can’t father children,” Sansa said.

 “Good. Sons of Kings can be cruel and stupid, as you well know. His will never torment us,” Tyrion said to Sansa. To Greyworm he said, “That is the wheel our Queen wanted to break.”

 “From now on rulers will not be born. They will be chosen on this spot by the Lords and Ladies of Westeros to serve the realm.” He turned to Bran. “I know you don’t want it. I know you don’t care about power. But I ask you now, if we choose you, would you wear the crown?”

 “Why do you think I came all this way?” Bran said after a moment. Tyrion looked a little shocked that Bran had actually said yes and you knew that the other people in this meeting were feeling the same way.

 “To Brandon of House Stark, I say aye,” Tyrion said. Everyone was quiet until you and Sam said ‘aye’ at the same time. Tyrion sent the both of you a grateful look. Your uncle was next followed by the men from the Vale. Yara and the new Prince of Dorne agreed as well along with Gendry and Ser Davos. Brienne agreed as well, but you saw that Sansa was trying to pick out words again.

 “You know I love you, little brother. I always will. You’ll be a good King. But tens of thousands of Northmen fell defending Westeros. And those who survived have fought too hard and too much to ever kneel again,” Sansa said. “The North will remain an independent country, as it was for thousands of years.”

 Bran nodded in consent and you could see the relief flood through Sansa’s body.

 “All hail Bran the Broken,” Tyrion said. Everyone stood up and repeated those words. When everyone sat back down, Tyrion bowed to the new King and started to make his way out of the Pit.

 “Tyrion,” Bran called. “You will be my hand.”

 “N-No, your grace. I don’t want it.”

 “I know. And I don’t want to be King.” Tyrion shook his head.

 “I don’t deserve it. I thought I was wise but it turns out I’m not. I thought that I knew what was right, but I did not. Choose Ser Davos. Choose anyone else.”

 “I choose you.”

 “You cannot,” Greyworm said angrily.

 “Yes I can. I’m King.”

 “This man is a criminal. He deserves justice.”

 “He just got it. He’s made a lot of terrible mistakes. He’s going to spend the rest of his days fixing them.”

 Greyworm was angry and he spat out, “That’s not enough!”

 ---

 After about an hour of talking, a decision was made. Jon would go back to Castle Black as a member of the Night’s Watch. You and your sisters wanted him freed completely, but you recognized that this was the only way for your brother to keep his head. You would miss seeing him every day, but you’d lived with this before so it shouldn’t be too hard. Jon was to leave that evening and you had a few hours before you had to say goodbye. Everyone was slowly trickling out of the Dragonpit when Sandor came up to you.

 “Dove,” Sandor said quietly. You froze and slowly turned around.

 “I thought I told you not to call me that.”

 “You did.”

 “Why are you here, Sandor?” Your voice sounded tired and Sandor could see it in your eyes.

 “I heard you were here and I wanted to talk to you.”

 “Talk about what? How you left me for some petty revenge? How I gave birth with you not by my side? How I have been raising our son without you?”

 “I-I have a son?” Sandor’s heart skipped a beat and your chest tightened at the sound of his voice breaking.

 “Yes.”

 “What’s his name?”

 “Eddard. Eddard Stark.”

 “Are you going by Stark too?”

 “Ever since you left me.” Sandor was silent for a moment. He stepped closer to you tentatively.

 “Would you ever take me back?” You sucked in a breath, eyes wide.

 “I know I fucked up and I know it will take a lot to fix it. If you’ll even take me back, that is. But even if you decide not to, I want you to know that I still love you. I always have. I’ll always love our babe and I will do anything for the two of you.”

 His voice was so quiet you could barely hear it, but it was also so loud that it was ringing in your ears. Your eyes filled with tears and you gestured to Sansa to take Eddard from your arms. When your arms were free, you wrapped them around Sandor tightly. It took him a few seconds to respond, but soon you were being spun around. You let out a giggle that was cut short by Sandor kissing you. It was a sweet kiss that you broke shortly after it began.

 “While I love kissing you, I think you’d like to officially meet your son, yes?”

 Sandor’s eyes lit up and Sansa brought over your son. You took him from her and gently placed him in his father’s arms. You showed Sandor how to hold him properly and the sight made you melt. Finally, your family was complete.

#sandor clegane x reader #sandor x reader #the hound x reader #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #x reader #xreader #reader insert #Sandor Clegane #Sansa Stark #Arya Stark #Brandon Stark #Greyworm #Tyrion Lannister #game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #got fanfiction #got fanfic #sandor clegane fanfiction #sandor clegane fanfic #The Hound #the hound fanfiction #the hound fanfic

[magalidragon]

fire on ice | a crackish Jonerys drabble

Soooo... @moggett reblogged this post and well I felt compelled to write a drabble for one of those prompts so I give you this crack fic-- a funeral home meet cute!

I give you....FIRE ON ICE!  And this is also partially @youwerenevermine‘s fault, lol, because we literally had same idea for one of the prompts.

“Thank you so much Mr. Snow.”

Jon nodded politely, solemnly, his gray eyes the perfect amount of sympathetic, sad, and he hoped the right amount of ‘normal’— lest people think him a total fucking creep—while he shook the hand of the Greatjon Umber, whose son Smalljon Umber had unfortunately encountered the wrong side of a chainsaw while out trimming trees.  

Greatjon began to go into a tale about his son—who by all accounts had been a horrible person—speaking like he was the second coming of Aegon the Conqueror for all his ‘talents’ and ‘successes.’  “Hmm,” he murmured, walking him slowly to the door.  “He sounds like quite a man your son, thank you Mr. Umber, we will speak later regarding tomorrow.”

“Of course, thank you again Mr. Snow.”

The door shut loudly behind him, Jon slumping against it, relieved.  He glanced at his cousin, who had emerged from the basement, shaking her chopped bob out of its messy little knot atop her head.  “He gone?” she demanded.

“Aye.”

“I had half a mind to sew his arm on backwards.”

Jon closed the doors to the viewing room where Smalljon rested in repose until tomorrow when he’d be taken to the Karstark’s castle for the final funeral and ultimate burial in the crypts, as was custom for the Northerners.  He clicked his tongue.  “Arya, be nice.”

“Remember when his wife died, and he squeezed my arse?”

“Aye, I remember.”

“Thought so.”  Arya checked her phone.  “Your beloved texted me.  We have another on the way.  This one fell from the Wall.  Ygritte said he’s a fucking mess.”

He made a face; he hated that she referred to his ex-girlfriend as his ‘beloved.’  “Will you stop calling her that?”

“She works for the morgue Jon, what were you thinking?”

“It’s hard to find women in this line of work.”  He heard the bell ringing on the other side of the old stone house that served as their place of business and home—the five-floor monstrosity he knew people in town referred to as ‘Castle Black.’  He did wear a lot of black.  Came with the territory.  He waved off Arya.  “Just make sure you finish up with Mr. Lannister before the end of the evening.”

“The rich dude who died on the shitter?  Yeah, no thanks, that’s all yours.”

“Do you want to take this one?  Where the fuck is Robb anyway?”  Robb was the master of this shit, not him.  He was better with the dead.

Arya walked away before he even could try to play ‘Dragon, Wolf, Lion’ with her or answer as to where her eldest brother happened to have gone off.  Guess it was all him.  He caught his reflection in one of the mirrors in the hallway, adjusting his black tie at his neck and raking fingers through his curls.  It did nothing to tamp them down. He schooled his expression, solemn, and pushed through the dark wooden doors from the funeral home side of the floor to the entry way.  He let them swing back and folded his hands in front of him.  

“Welcome to Three Wolves Funeral Home, may I help you?” he asked, voice gentle; you never knew who might be waiting to speak with you on this side of the building.  He’d been accused too often in Robb’s post-services discussions of being too cold.

The woman standing in a dark red dress with long black overcoat was not someone who appeared to be in mourning, but then you never really knew, some people were good at masking emotions.  Her silver hair was in an elegant, braided knot at the back of her head and she had large black sunglasses folded in her hands, gazing at the table with various brochures for caskets.  

She turned, blinking wide violet eyes at him, her lips crimson, face pale.  “Good afternoon,” she greeted him, eyebrow arching.  “I’m inquiring as to your crematory services.”

“For yourself?” he blurted, before he realized how it sounded.

She smirked, while he flushed, thrown off by her stunning beauty.  He tried to school his expression again; she could very well have been there for her husband, boyfriend, or other, he did not need to stumbling through this.  He wished Robb was there.  “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it?  Well, I can assure you I’m not here to burn myself alive, but you know…” She inspected her hand, a couple rings on them glittering gold.  She grinned up at him.  “I have heard stories my ancestors were immune to flame.”

His throat constricted.  “Apologies.  Can I help you?”

“Your crematory services?” she wondered again, walking by him and into the showroom, running a finger over an ebony casket.  

“Ah…I am afraid Three Wolves does not offer such services.  We can, however, assist with selecting one, urns, and preparing a memorial service.”  He wondered what she was doing; she was now leaning down to look underneath a massive white casket.  No one really cared what the underside looked like.  He gestured towards the office.  “We can speak in private, if you wish?”  

The woman shook her head.  “No I’m fine, thank you.  Just doing a little bit of research.”

“For a relative?”  

“Something like that.”  She wore very high heels, which clicked loudly on the hardwood.  She glanced sideways; eyes shrewd.  “Are you one of the Three Wolves on your sign out front?”

“Yes, Jon Snow, I’m the mortician.”  It sounded so creepy like that, but it was the truth.  Robb handled the hand shaking, the business side.  Arya was their resident makeup artist—she could do wonders with faces practically taking them on and off—but he was the one who handled everything else.  

“Hmm, yes I heard of you.”  The woman offered her hand.  “Dany.”

“Jon,” he repeated, like an idiot.  He was put off by her beauty, rather disarming.  He swallowed hard again.  “Nice to meet you.  Is there…”

“This was enlightening Mr. Snow.  I’ll be back.”  Dany wiggled her fingers, waving, striding out decisively.  “See you later.”

What the seven hells was that about? He spun on his heel, about to ask her what else he could help her with, when the front door slammed shut, bell ringing on her exit.  He heard the door from the services wing open, Robb walking in.  He scowled.  “Where were you?”

“Talking with the Umbers, heard it went well, did we have a customer?” Robb adjusted his tie, eagerly seeing dollar signs.  “Where are they?”

“They left.”  

“Damnit Jon!”

He rolled his eyes, storming by.  “I’ll be downstairs.”

“With Tywin Lannister?  Better make him look good, the Lannisters are paying through the nose for this.”

“Aye,” he said idly, heading downstairs and to his ‘lair’ as Robb referred to it.  He shook his head, preparing in the locker room, putting on scrubs and his protective gear.  When he tugged on gloves, walking over to the block of freezer drawers, he rolled his eyes again, making another face.  He was better with dead people anyway.

-----

A couple of weeks later, Jon saw the beautiful silver-haired woman again, this time from the front step of the funeral home, while Arya sat on the railing, Robb in shocked horror as the sign went up across the street.  

Dracarys Funeral Home and Crematory Services

“How did this happen?  We had the run of things here!” Robb exclaimed.

Arya cracked her gum.  “Want me to get info?”

The silver haired Dany waved from the front step of her home.  “Hello Starks!”

Jon shook his head, appalled.  “I thought she was just asking because someone died…like they all do.”

“You didn’t think that she was scoping the competition?” Robb shouted.

“I told you I’m better with the dead than I am the living!”

“Oh leave him alone,” Arya chided.  She rubbed Ghost’s ears—his great white wolf—gazing across the street again, shrugging.  “Maybe we can make this work.  Jon, you were the one who met her, maybe you can get some more info.  They do crematory, we don’t.  Maybe we can make a deal or something.”

Robb nodded, poking his shoulder.  “Go over there, find out more.”

Jon sighed.  He really didn’t want to do this. “I have that Wall guy to deal with.”

“Jarl will keep, go find out more.”

He slid away from the column, clicking his tongue for Ghost to follow him, the two of them crossing the street and up to Dracarys.  He entered into the front room, seeing that everything was a shade of black and red.  He glanced at Ghost, who was scanning the space with his bright ruby eyes, white fluffy tail wagging slowly.  “What do you think?” he mumbled.

The walnut wood stairs creaked in the back, drawing him towards the door leading away from the showroom and sitting area.  He peeked into another part of the old house, just like how their business was set up, with a viewing room and seating area.  He moved to another door, which was open, leading down a set of stairs.  

A massive black cat yowled from a sunbeam near the door, hissing at Ghost and running off.  Ghost didn’t bark but took off after the cat.  He sighed, calling out.  “Please don’t kill her cat!”  

He went down the stairs and pushed open a set of swinging double doors, pausing at the sight.  It was state-of-the art and he scowled at some of the fancy equipment he’d been trying to convince Robb to upgrade to for the last year.  He ran his tongue over his teeth, arching a dark brow at the woman who had been wearing head-to-toe designer when he’d met her and now was in black scrubs and protective gear, leaning over a dead man, a kit of makeup and brushes next to her.  

“Jon Snow,” she called.

“Daenerys Targaryen.”  He used her full name.  The proprietress of the competition, he would not refer to her as Dany.  “You could have told me you were moving in across the street.”

“And you would have shown me around?  I think not.”  

He stepped closer, curious at what she was working on.  His eyebrows flew to his forehead.  “Greyscale, huh?”

“Hmm,” Dany murmured.  “Yes.”  She looked up, grinning.  “I saw you coming over, decided not to stop you from finding me.  You’re not squeamish.”

“No I’m not.”

“They call you the King of the Dead.”

It wasn’t the worst thing he’d been called.  “And you are?” he retorted.

“The Dragon Queen, I suppose you could call me.  Or at least, that’s what they called me at mortician school.”  She selected another brush, grinning.  “I’m offering a service that your busines does not Jon Snow, that’s all.”

“The North doesn’t burn their dead.”

“I know, but many in the South do.  There’s plenty of them moving up here.”  Dany stood and pushed the gurney with the greyscale man into the freezer, closing the door.  She removed her gloves and gear, walking by him, and began to wash up.  She tossed a serene smile over her shoulder.  “I think we can make this work Jon Snow.  Don’t worry about it.”

“Robb isn’t used to competition.”

“And you?”

He shrugged.  “I work better with the dead.”

“So do I.”  When she finished, she studied him for a few seconds, which unnerved him.  He tore his eyes from her, wondering what she was doing.  She approached him, hands on her hips.  “Would you like to get a cup of coffee?”

He frowned, nose wrinkling, surprised.  “Coffee?”

“A hot beverage, sometimes served with milk and sugar?  Other times with various accoutrements like cinnamon or chocolate?” Dany’s smile softened.  He saw then how gentle she actually was, how soft.  It was comforting and he wasn’t even grieving.  She must be very good at her job, he thought.  He was numb, unsure how best to reply.  She patted his arm, stepping by him.  “Come on, I’ve got a lovely blend from Braavos.”

In the kitchen on the third floor of her house, where he assumed, she lived, she prepared the coffee.  He wondered where Ghost had gone.  “This how you get all the competition?” he managed to get out.  “Ply them with coffee?”

“Just you.”  Dany sat down across from him at a small bistro table in a large bay window, with a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance.  She passed him the mug of coffee and used a small ceramic pitcher to pour milk into her coffee.  Lifting it to her lips, she smiled again, warm and eyes dancing.  “You intrigue me.”

He sipped his coffee—it was very good—a small smile on his lips.  “You are an interesting one, Dany…if that is your real name.”

“Only my friends can call me Dany,” she mouthed.  

“And we’re friends?”

“Well I hope we’re not enemies.”

Jon figured he’d have to wait it out and see for certain, but he didn’t think enemies was the best word for it.  He was not good at this sort of thing, so he chose to continue drinking his coffee.  He set the mug down on the table, sighing and cocking his head, a slight furrow to his brow.  “I’m not good at this.”

“I know,” Dany shrugged.  “But I am.”

Well that was that then, he figured, smiling at her.  

-----

“So where did you two meet?”

Jon wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, as one of Sansa’s friends from King’s Landing had cornered him, trying to get info on Robb.  “Where did I meet…?” he echoed, playing dumb.

Margaery Tyrell frowned.  “Where did you meet Daenerys?  Sansa didn’t tell me.  In fact, she’s being really weird about things.  Won’t even tell me what Robb does for a living.”  Her eyes lit up.  “I like a challenge.”

“Um, well…”

His wife of the last two hours emerged at his side, looping her arm through his.  “We met at a funeral home,” she said, smiling at Margaery’s wide-eyed, horrified expression.  Dany gazed up at him, love shining from her beatific face.  “In fact, we contemplated holding the reception there, but figured everyone might think that a little weird.”  She smiled even wider.  “Also in the future, please keep the Fire on Ice Funereal Services in your thoughts for any funereal needs!”

Jon stifled a snort, glad to be rid of the odd questions.  He smiled down at his beloved.  “We didn’t actually consider the reception there or…did you?”

“No of course not, I don’t want to mix business and pleasure.”

“Isn’t that exactly what we did?”

“Nah, I came to scope out the competition and this really cute guy who couldn’t look me in the eye without blushing wandered in.”  Dany rose on her toes, pecking his cheek.  She patted her hand against his chest.  She beamed again.  “Best decision I ever made.  I could have sent Viserys.”

At the mention of her annoying older brother, Jon shivered.  He squeezed her close.  “Very well then.  Let’s at least try to figure out a better story, you’re scaring people.”

“Well it is the truth.”  

Jon shook his head, but smiled anyway, his arm around her and hers around him, both of them walking off into the crowd of guests.  He even thought that he overheard someone say the King of the Dead had found his queen.  He kissed her temple, sighing.  He certainly did.

THE END

#jonerys #Jonerys au #Jonerys drabble #worst prompts challenge ACCEPTED #I blame Erika for this one #crack fic totally

[aflyingcontradiction]

The Magnus Archives Relisten: Episode 68 - The Tale of a Field Hospital

Never had the academic chops to get access to your library or anything, but when all those statements were leaked back in ‘99… I know all the letters pages called you crackpots, but I know. - Statement of Joseph Russo

Oh, that's interesting. I want to know what happened there! How did the statements get leaked? Or was it fake?

So I’m kind of an artist. I like to use the detritus of mankind’s time on this planet to craft its own reflection back at itself, yeah? So I take what others consider garbage and use it to send a message to the puppetmasters and fat cats who hold our lives in the palm of their hand and play with our society like a chess game. A message of art.

Wow. I mean, I don't even have any issues with the content of this, really, but this guy may just be the most PRETENTIOUS statement giver yet.

I bet you have a ton in your archive about the Illuminati. That’s why they smeared you so hard. I’m not asking to look at them or anything; I’m just letting you know that I get it. Yeah? I get it.

I bet Elias gets a kick out of people like this coming in, thinking they've got it all figured out and running full-tilt off in the wrong direction, making an utter arse of themselves in the process.

I’m working on a piece at the moment, it’s called ‘Pageviews’ and it’s about the death of print media at the dawn of the digital age.

Okay, but the guy's tone makes this piece sound like yet another rehash of "technology scary!" ... man, I would find this statement giver so annoying if I met him in real life. As it is, I'm mostly amused.

I mean, I knew about the book; Treeves’ account of his time working in a field hospital during the Second Boer War. I’d read it before, of course

Of course. Who hasn't? /s

Don’t know who owned it before, might have even have been a library copy but the sticker was mostly torn off.

I wonder how exactly this one went from Leitner's library to the dump and how many victims it claimed on the way.

I asked the corporal for his name, and was told that that was Private Amherst. Fitting enough, I remarked, that he should be named for a dealer in smallpox, when he himself seemed almost taken by fever.

a) I think when I first heard this, I didn't quite realise that this was the very same Amherst we had met before. I think I assumed it was ... a family thing? A Clan of Disease and Decay, you know? Like the Lukases but for the Corruption.

b) I was utterly unaware of the whole Amherst - smallpox thing until this episode. I like the way the writing subtly implies that THAT Amherst may actually have been the same person as THIS Amherst.

He told me, with flies buzzing around his fevered head, ‘You see, doctor, I am such a restless man.’

Oh, I love how this turns the story from 'soldier too selfless to keep his backside in bed when others are suffering' to 'bringer of disease who refuses to stay dead' while using the exact same turn of phrase. I just read the actual chapter in The Tale of a Field Hospital for comparison and the changes are so beautifully seamless.

A Leitner, I would guess, though some slight charring around the edges of this statement leads me to believe that Gertrude may have made a somewhat unilateral decision about disposing of it, rather than committing it to storage. - Jon

Smart choice.

Insects and disease. No clear connection, other than the fact that they somehow feel similar. They both make one feel distinctly unclean.

Jon's attempts to grasp at the Corruption here (... please don't grasp at the Corruption without a hazmat suit, sir) is quite fun because at this point in the series, the listener would still be doing the same thing with most, perhaps all, of the Entities.

Jon: There were a couple of spiders, so I changed routes and found, I think it’s a gas main.

Oh. Oh man. I didn't realise they throw in Chekov's gas main this early!

Jon: What are you doing down here? Not!Sasha: Forgot my coat. (...) Not!Sasha: Yes, I’m okay… I don’t really like it down here. Hard to focus.

I wonder if Not!Sasha regularly has to return to the tunnels, which are closer to the artefact storage, because that's where the table is that she's bound to... Also I keep being surprised by how weirdly HONEST Not!Sasha actually is sometimes.

The place plays odd tricks with your mind. When I saw Sasha down there, for a moment it was like I didn’t recognise her. She seemed… far too tall somehow. - Jon

OH GOD JON! NOTICE THINGS FOR A CHANGE!

My impression of this episode

This episode didn't really unsettle me very much (the historical episodes rarely seem to), but it managed to stick with me nevertheless, perhaps because of the memorable set-up of integrating an actual book into the TMA story. Also Amherst is certainly disgusting enough to be memorable! The supplement was mostly memorable because it made me, once again, want to take Jon by the scruff of his neck and rub his nose in the fact that his friend has been replaced.

#tma relisten #the magnus archives

[constantlytiredghost]

For the smooch promts. 4 for Martin Gerry or 15 for Daisy and Basira. Your choice. ;)

Here we go one (1) GerryMartin (technically JonGerryMartin but shhh)

with 4:   An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose I mean at this point it's the prompt rather loosely interpreted and split into an accidental 'kiss' and brushing lips against each other before diving in for another kiss BUT I hope you like it nonetheless :'D (and as you already know Daisira also happened and is already up on ao3 lel)

Having a crush on your boss was already bad enough, but also having a crush on the childhood friend of your boss was worse. But here was Martin, crushing on both, the small grouchy head archivist who happened to be his boss and the tall, buff goth that occasionally appeared in the archives to bother aforementioned grouchy head archivist.

And they were dating. Probably. They hadn’t announced it or anything, but it seemed pretty obvious from an outsider perspective that there was something between them, that went beyond a normal friendship. Simply watching the way they interacted with each other showed that.

Not that Martin watched them interact or anything. Not a lot at least. Sometimes he simply saw them. Like that time when he had seen them walk down the stairs of the institute, Gerry’s arm slung across Jon’s shoulder pulling him close, or the time when he had found them in the breakroom with Jon nearly sitting in Gerry’s lap. So they didn’t need to announce anything for Martin to be convinced that they indeed were a thing, which was fine really. He was happy for them, but it wasn’t exactly making things easy.

Martin had tried to stomp those pesky feelings, but that hadn’t worked so far. He tried to keep his distance, he really did, but there was only so much he could do to avoid his boss and Gerry had a knack for finding him. Because even when he hid away in a storage room, putting old statements away, he couldn’t escape.

“Do you need help?”

Martin nearly let the box with the files drop. Speaking of the devil.

“Gerry! Geez… ah, well no, I’m good I think. Thanks for asking though.” he replied, trying to calm his racing heart. “Did Jon kick you out again?”, he asked then.

Gerry huffed amused. 

“Yep. It’s statement time, no interruptions allowed for the next mhhh 20 minutes? Unless I want to get threatened with a tape recorder. So I thought I’d check if I can be of help elsewhere.”

Martin chuckled softly before he shook his head lightly.

“Well, as I said, I’m good. Maybe ask Sasha? Or Tim?”, he suggested.

Gerry gave him a long and piercing look that Martin couldn’t quite interpret.

“Sure.”, he said then. “Are y…”

Before he could finish that sentence, the light above them flickered and went out.

“...shit.” Gerry said instead, and Martin had to agree.

 “I think they got a new piece from the Dark in the Artifact Storage today.”, he mumbled, feeling around for the shelves, bumping into Gerry in the process.

“Sorry.”

“No worries, I’m fine.”

“That’s uh great, uhm well I’ll go look for the fuse box in case it’s just, well, normal stuff instead of the Dark.” Martin said, making his way along the shelves into the direction of the fuse box.

“I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need too.”

“But I want too, and in case something tries to jump either of us it’s better not to be alone.”

That was sadly a pretty solid argument that Martin could hardly say no to, so he sighed.

“Oh, and I have a flashlight.”

A dim light flickered to life, making Martin squint his eyes when it danced over his face.

“Fine.” he relented.

“Great, lead the way.”

The light of Gerry’s torch was weak and flickered, but it didn’t die, so Martin had hopes that maybe, maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with some sort of darkness monster and could just fix some fuses and be done with. He doubted that they were that lucky, but he still liked to hope.

.

The fuse box for this area was in a small room in the back and calling it a room was maybe too much. It was a glorified closet with enough space for the fuse box, a few supplies and two people if you squeezed as it turned out.

Gerry’s side was squeezed against his, and maybe Martin was panicking a little bit. 

The only reason for Gerry being in the closet with him being that they were both stubborn. Gerry refused to give him the flashlight while Martin was blind without it, but refused to move, so Gerry had simply squeezed in next to him so he could shine at the fuses.

“Well, this, unfortunately, looks fine,” Martin muttered after he couldn’t find anything out of place. “Guess it really is something down in the Art…”

The door behind them slammed shut, making the small space seem even smaller.

“Well, this on the other hand, certainly isn’t fine.” Gerry commented, making Martin snort against his better judgement.

He could feel Gerry shift around next to him and then heard him rattle at the door.

“It’s locked.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, definitely doesn’t open.”

Martin also pushed against the door, but just as Gerry had said. It didn’t budge.

“Guess we’re stuck then.”

Gerry snorted. “Apparently. At least it’s only the two of us and no shadow monster in sight.” he said, leaning back against the door, seemingly trying to find a comfortable position.

Martin smiled weakly, while he tried to move around, also looking for a remotely comfortable position, who knew how long they were stuck.

“Suppose we’ll just have to wait until the others find us.”, he said after more or less leaning against the wall.

Gerry hummed in agreement.

“Yeah we could just wait, or we could...talk.”

“Talk?” Martin questioned.

“Mhhh, talk, like about why you’re avoiding me, for example.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” Martin said defensively. Gerry only raised an eyebrow and gave him a disbelieving look.

“Fine.” Martin relented with a sigh when Gerry kept on staring at him. “I’m avoiding you.”

“Oh, I know that you’re avoiding me.” Gerry chuckled softly. “But that doesn’t answer why.” He paused. “Listen, it’s okay if you don’t want to be around me, but I’d rather know, then have you run away from me, alright?”

“I...It’s not that I don’t want to be around you.” Martin said with another sigh, rubbing over his face. ”It’s just…”

“Is it because of your crush on Jon?”

“Wha…? How do you know about that?” Martin could feel his cheeks burn and just hoped that it wasn’t too visible in the dim light.

Gerry looked at him and then started laughing, but it wasn’t mean or anything and just resulted in Martin’s heart doing funny things inside of his chest.

“You’re not exactly subtle. I’m pretty sure everyone knows...okay, everyone except Jon. He probably just thinks you’re nice.”

“Jon thinks I’m nice?”

“You constantly bring him tea and biscuits, and you care for him, what else is he supposed to think? You’re literally one of the nicest people I know Martin. Even though….Now that I think about it, you’ve been avoiding him too, so this clearly is about him.”

Martin buried his face in his hands and groaned.

“Listen, if you’re here to tell me off or something, just do it.”, he muttered.

“Tell you off? Why would I tell you off?” Gerry sounded truly confused, and Martin slowly lowered his hands.

“Because I have a crush? On your boyfriend?”

Gerry stared at him. Martin stared at Gerry until Gerry’s snicker interrupted the silence that had settled between them.

“Stop laughing! I’m serious.” Martin complained, kicking lightly against Gerry’s shin to shut him up.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…”  Gerry started laughing again. “This is ridiculous.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Okay, shit that came out wrong, sorry. What I mean is that it’s pretty hilarious how blind people can be when it comes to themselves."

“And you’re trying to tell me what exactly?” Martin asked.

Gerry gave him a lopsided grin.

“Jon likes you too.”

Martin blinked, then he opened his mouth only to close it again, before pinching himself. It hurt, so not a dream.

“I...Jon...but aren’t you dating?”

Gerry shrugged, pushing himself from his position against the door so he could turn to face Martin, knocking a few supplies over in the process of doing so.

“Yeah, we are.”

“Why...how are you so chill about this?”

Gerry gave him a wry smile in return.

“I like you too, I guess,” he shrugged again. “heteronormative relationships were never my jam, so maybe that’s why. I know you like Jon and not me, but if you’re willing, I’m sure we can work something out. I honestly just want to see both of you happy.”

Gerry was rambling, and Martin could only gape. His heart ached for this beautiful man, who had decided that he was okay to put his own wishes last if it meant that the people he loves were happy.

“...and I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything. I swear this sounded better in my head, but…”

“Gerry.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Gerry’s mouth closed with an audible click. He looked nervous, and now it was Martin’s turn to smile.

“You know, you call me and Jon blind when it comes to ourselves, but I don’t think we’re the only ones. Jon is not the only person I have a crush on, Gerry.” he said softly and watched how Gerry nervous face turned from nervous to confusion, to surprise and then into a wide grin after the realisation hit him.

Then Gerry squinted his eyes at him. “It’s Tim, isn’t it?” he asked, but Gerry’s shit-eating grin and the twinkling in his eyes told Martin that he wasn’t serious.

“Obviously.”, he replied dryly. They looked at each other and started laughing. Gerry leaned forward, to place his forehead against Martin’s shoulder, snickering. Martin wrapped his arms around him, cheeks hurting from smiling so much.

“God, we’re all so blind.” Gerry mumbled against Martin’s sweater, his arms wrapping around Martin’s middle.

“Yeah.” Martin agreed with a snort and as if on command, the light of Gerry’s torch flickered out, leaving them in pitch black darkness.

“....I didn’t mean literally.” Gerry muttered and pulled back, and Martin couldn’t stop snickering.

“I think I got spare batteries, wait.”

Martin could feel Gerry shifting and moving around.

“Careful.”

“Yeah, surahhh…. FUCK.”

Martin could feel Gerry tripping and tried to grab him, but the supplies that had fallen earlier made him topple over too, and they both crashed.

Martin hit his head against the door, and Gerry somehow landed half on top of him, knee ramming into his thigh while their lips smacked against each other, their teeth clacking together painfully.

Martin groaned that had hurt.

“Shit, sorry,” Gerry muttered, trying to get up before he just gave up and simply straddled Martin’s legs instead. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I think,” he answered, rubbing his head. “That was a pretty shitty first kiss though, dunno why movies think this works.”, he added lightly, sitting up, only to bump his head against Gerry’s in the process. “Did you at least find the batteries.”

“Yeah, and I’m very willing to make it up to you as soon as I put them in.”

Martin could hear something getting unscrewed, and a few clacking sounds. It didn’t take long until the torch flickered back on, illuminating the closet once more.

“So, Mr. Blackwood, will you let me prove that I’m capable of more than smashing our heads together and probably giving you a few bruises in the process?” 

Gerry looked at him with open eyes and an adorably, impish smile. Martin still couldn’t quite believe it, so he just nodded, unable to trust his own voice.

Gerry leant forward again, slowly to give Martin all the time he wanted should he decide that he wanted to pull back. 

Martin didn’t and leant forward instead, meeting Gerry halfway. When Gerry’s lips brushed over his, it was barely a touch, soft and sweet and Martin wanted more, chasing after them when Gerry pulled back, to tug him into another kiss.

He vaguely registered that the torch clinked against the ground next to them, to busy burying his hands in Gerry’s hair to pull him even closer and Gerry followed, nipping at his lips, with a playful bite.

Movement could be heard in front of the closet, and they broke apart just in time to look up at Jon, who looked back down at them with raised eyebrows.

“What’s going on in here?” he asked, and Martin could feel a blush creeping up, on his cheeks.

“I got us a boyfriend, that’s what’s going on,” Gerry replied cheerfully, scrambling up on his feet, before holding out a hand for Martin, to help him up.

“Unless you don’t want too?”

Two searching gazes were directed at him, and Martin shook his head.

“No, I mean, yes? I mean, I’d love too.”

Gerry seemed relieved, a tension that Martin hadn’t noticed before left his body and on Jon’s lips formed a smile.

“You need to fill me in on what exactly happened in there. I think I’m missing a few pieces." 

Gerry and Martin looked at each other and then at Jon.

“Yeah, let’s talk. Guess we should do that anyway.” Martin said, and the two of them followed Jon into his office.

.

They told Jon what had happened and in turn, Jon also told them a few things. Like that the Dark didn’t have anything to do with the entire situation. The lightbulb simply had burned out, and the door hadn’t opened because of a book stack that had toppled over, slamming the door shut and in the process lodging themselves so that it was impossible to open the door from the inside without violence.

Hearing it all like that Martin felt a bit like he had ended up in a ridiculous cheesy romcom, but he also certainly couldn’t complain.

He also learned that day that kissing Jon while Gerry was nipping at his neck was a special form of bliss, that he couldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams. And that being sandwiched between those two men was exactly where he wanted to be.

#nat writes #gerrymartin #aka the story where I added as many cheesy tropes as possible :'D #tma #jongerrymartin #martin blackwood #gerard keay #jonathan sims #jgm #this also means that I filled all prompts but the one I'm currently working on :000 #which means prompts are open again if anyone wants to request smth!

[dwfwawfae]

I keep thinking what will happen if he’s found it

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[sstrongstyle]

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Adam Cole x OC, mentions of Seth Rollins x OC 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: After nearly a decade of being the golden girl of WWE, Adaline Marin wants out. Their ring was no longer home, haunted by her first love and upon reaching her thirties, the face behind "Aspen Glory" wonders if the passion she once had was still ablaze. Instead, she gets sent down to NXT to join the Undisputed Era. The next three hundred and sixty-five days, all captured by cameras for the history books, become a year of revival, reinvention, and realization with her legacy at stake and a new flame from the past emerging. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: All characters are referred to by their real life names (for the most part) 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I love feedback! Please send some my way! <3 Very background heavy chapter, no real fun, but more to come. If you’re interested in being added to a tag list, let me know!

CHAPTER THREE.

June 8th, 2019

Adaline couldn't believe that she didn't just agree to this, but agreed for it to be done for an entire year. It wasn't like she cared about being in management's good graces and volunteered to do it, but she somehow got hoodwinked into agreeing to a 365 special on herself. She was the last person in the world to enjoy having cameras on her when she was out of the ring and no longer Aspen Glory. Doing interviews out of character for Adaline felt like pulling teeth. She avoided Total Divas at all costs. Even appearing on stuff like Ride Along and UpUpDownDown was difficult for her.

"Just call me the modern day Undertaker," Adaline rolled her eyes, but she smiled a bit, as she sat down for the camera.

She liked her privacy as much as any other wrestler that had cameras constantly on them, but especially since fans liked to pay extra attention to her life for whatever reason. Adaline attributed it to her once long term relationship with Colby, highly publicized at several points because of whatever dirt sheet rumours and private leaks that were thrown their way. She was quiet at all times, her Wikipedia page only covering her wrestling career, as she had been as vague about her childhood as possible in the past.

Raising an eyebrow at the producer, Craig, a few feet away, Adaline wasn't sure where to begin. "I can just talk about anything?"

Anything but the few things on the "no mention" list. Most were contributed by WWE, but a lot of other things were provided by Adaline. This included her past relationship with Colby outside of kayfabe and especially anything to do with Nikki Bella.

"Start with talking about your career so far. You can name drop companies and non-contracted performers, but only because we'll be editing whatever we don't want aired, anyway."

"Right," she shifted slightly, unsurprised. "Well, I'm turning thirty-two this fall, so this will be into my sixteenth year of doing this thing."

She wasn't exactly sure why the Network executives wanted to give her a 365 special. As far as she knew, most of the episodes were focused on wrestlers overcoming serious injuries or taking the next great step in their careers. Was this what NXT was supposed to be for her?

Craig's expression remained blank, as he pushed his semi rimless glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. "You started at sixteen years old?" His eyes never left the clipboard in front of him, where she assumed was a list of prompts to ask.

"Yeah, I dropped out of high school in the tenth grade and I worked retail and other random part time jobs for two years while training and working local shows in Toronto. Bingo halls, high school gyms, random parking lots, you know," Adaline explained further, still trying to loosen up her tense shoulders. "When I turned eighteen, I dropped everything and moved to the United States because I knew I was limited, wrestling where I was wrestling. I was an illegal alien with no plan and just a few hundred dollars—the dumb indie wrestler dream."

It'd been so long since she looked back at that time in her life. Once embarrassed by her roots, Adaline felt a warm, fuzzy feeling at the pit of her stomach and couldn't ignore the swelling of pride in her heart. She'd come far.

The look on Craig's face induced Adaline to continue, so she took a deep breath. "My early work happened in Pennsylvania, where I fought my way into gyms and I mean fought. It was really hard at that time for a woman to be taken seriously. It was guys like Drew Gulak and Jon—" Although Craig said that she was allowed to name drop non-contracted performers, she was positive that uttering the former Dean Ambrose's name wasn't worth it. "—um, who helped me learn the ropes and culture in that area. Chikara's Wrestling Factory really helped me out and I did stuff for them and other places like CZW. Drew was the head trainer at the CZW at the time and was one of the first mentor figures I had."

If Adaline had to put her money on it, she would have said that Craig was bored out of his damn mind, but then again, he had the same expression on his face ever since he walked into the room. "Did you just stay in the northeast for that portion of your career?"

"I ventured a bit more west as time went by. Definitely lingered around Illinois for a while, since it's where the top independent women's promotions were at the time. Funnily enough, I ended up living in Chicago for about ten years after that." To be with her boyfriend, but she didn't mention that. "I did some time on the west coast, not as much as I wish I did, but I definitely had some fun doing stuff in California and for a split second, Mexico. Three years into working in the States and I somehow, by a miracle, land myself in the locker room of Florida Championship Wrestling."

To this day, Adaline wasn't exactly sure how she got in. The tape that she sent the developmental recruits was god-awful and her tryout promo was more than cringy. However, looking at other people in her recruitment class, it was clear that officials and scouts looked at potential over everything—how well could they be molded into the WWE standard, the ceiling of their entertainment value. She wasn't sure if she should feel flattered that they saw that in her or not or if they simply saw that she could be easily manipulated.

"It was definitely a time down there. Difficult, yes, but I learned so much." Adaline could recall nights crying into her pillow out of frustration for where her training was going and how she was treated by the other talent. Girls often claimed how hard they were judged for being models and dancers before coming to FCW, but it was just as hard being an "arrogant indie schmuck." There weren't many women from back then who could relate to the garbage that she went through.

Craig asked, "Do you think performers then had a harder time in FCW than the recruits down in the PC and NXT today?"

She paused, taking the question in. "Not a harder time, per say, but the process is much smoother now, while being more of a burden. We have the state of the art Performance Center now, compared to that warehouse we used to train in. NXT gets so much more exposure now that it's harder to reinvent yourself at your own pace." Adaline said. "In a way, because NXT is now its own brand, I would say that talent from the FCW era were much more catty in the sense of starting drama and wanting to move up to get on the road with the main roster talent. The divas division back then was a very different culture to the women's locker room here at Full Sail, which is now very welcoming. Everyone wants to help each other, not drag them down."

There was nothing Adaline wanted to do more than expose certain names, but she held herself back. The catty environment, the hazing, the drama and sabotage, was too much for her. She was just glad that she move on from there quickly, as her memories in developmental hurt her as much as they did help her.

"And after FCW?"

Adaline grinned. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows what happened after that."

For the first few years, she was afraid that the only reason she got lumped in with The Shield was because she was Colby's long term girlfriend and that they assumed he would be most comfortable with her as their valet. After all, Adaline wasn't exactly progressing as a character in FCW. She was scared of that, and only being considered as eye candy and a side item for the boys. It took years of understanding from other people and seeing the product in the eye of the executives that they truly must have seen potential in her.

And if all of the above were true anyway, then Adaline made damn sure to prove herself to be otherwise in the past few years.

"My time with The Shield was everything I could ask for and more. I'm glad I spent that portion of my career with those guys, I don't think I could have found my way around without them. We were all definitely kind of lost, but we had each other, and we were really family." She wanted to say are family, but things were different these days.

Adaline talked to Joe the most, at least up until her move to the yellow and black brand. He texted and checked up on her often while she was off TV. Jon came here and there, but things were different. She only kept up with him through Renee, since the man clearly had yet to discover how to reply to a text.

Then, there was Colby.

Things were good the first couple months after the big finale. As fine as they could be, really. They were on different brands leading up to Wrestlemania, which contributed tremendously to the smooth sailing. After the Royal Rumble, though, things got. . . weird and of course, she hadn't known it yet, but it was around the time he started seeing Becky.

"Hey, Becks, some of the girls are going back to my hotel room after the show," Adaline had tapped Becky on the shoulder after catching her outside of the trainer's room during the later hours of Elimination Chamber. "You gonna come and kick my ass in Mario Kart?"

For whatever reason, Becky's expression dropped. "Oh, uh, actually, I'm just gonna head back to mine. Call it in early, y'know?" Tripping over her words, the fluster in her voice was a tad suspicious to Adaline, but she brushed it off.

She'd proceeded with her plans with Pamela and Leah, playing video games into the early morning. Adaline didn't even think of Becky and her obvious excuse until Leah mentioned that she ran into Becky on her way back to her own room.

"It was written all over her face! Someone definitely got lucky that night," Leah mused at the makeup table, two days later at Smackdown. "Who do you think the guy is? She's definitely not one for random hookups."

Adaline knew that she wasn't owed an explanation to Colby's new love life, but she was a little disappointed that she figured it out on her own. The little things, the rumours she heard backstage, all pieced together for her to realize what was going on between the two of them. Maybe Adaline wouldn't have felt so ruffled about it if it wasn't made to be so weird and secretive. She didn't tell anyone what she found out, keeping it to herself until they announced it themselves.

"Stop making excuses for him, I know why he's late." She didn't even look up from her phone, as she waited in the passenger's seat of the group's rental car. "He's with her, right?"

This was at the tail end of The Shield's farewell era in February earlier that year. Though, Adaline was not heavily involved in the storyline as some expected her to be—the escalation to her own Wrestlemania feud had been going on and she had duties to fulfill on the Smackdown brand. She wasn't there for the buildup throughout the month on Raw, but she was able to join the reunion at Fastlane. It was the group's last match together and the group begged personnel to let her be apart of at least the final moments.

Joe and Jon simply exchanged looks with each other in response. They clearly knew about the couple and probably found out from Colby himself. While nobody said anything to Adaline about it, deep down, they all knew that nobody needed to. She knew Colby more than possibly any other person in the world and the two weren't surprised that she figured it all out.

"Right." Jon was the one who chose to break the awkward silence. "Well, he can meet us there. Let's get this show on the road, we got some beautiful people waiting to see my beautiful face at that bar." It felt a little wrong to not wait for Colby on their way to the roster's "Goodbye Shield" party at a local watering hole, but even Joe was sick of waiting and started the engine.

"We had the time of our lives in that initial run. There's just too memories that I'll cherish forever, you know. But, my memory of all time is surprising the fans at Fastlane, when I showed up to accompany the boys to the ring one last time and having that farewell embrace as the show went off air." Adaline quickly blinked back the tears, as sensitive as ever, but she didn't like showing that side of her to the camera. "I swear to god, time seemed to just completely stop for those few minutes. It was out of this world, nothing like it."

The most magical part of wrestling was the crowd, there's no denying that. On the eve of Fastlane, Adaline felt mountains of love and excitement from the fans, knowing that they were witnessing the end of an era. All four of them knew it was the end of an era, in many ways more than one. Adaline and Colby, who were always known as a collective, rather than individually, were now apart and were now moving on from each other. Mox chose to chase his dreams elsewhere, away from the three that became his family. Joe's legacy in the industry was building and building, year by year. They were no longer the people they were in 2012, having finally gotten a taste of wealth and glory after early years of struggle when the four used to share a single hotel room to save costs.

She'll always be grateful for her run with The Shield. At the beginning, she was just happy to be in a main roster storyline. She was just happy to be able to maximize her time with Colby. Beyond that, Jon and Joe became her family. Bickering over who's turn it was to drive after long house shows, getting to know Joe's kids, playing video games in the locker rooms and every hotel room, and nobody leaving the trainer's room until everybody was clear. No one got left behind.

Back then, it was like that. Now? Adaline can't help but feel like she's come to that point, without any of the three by her side for the first time in a decade.

Craig sighed a little too loudly, rolling up his sleeve and glancing at the shiny watch on his wrist. "We're running out of time. We'll touch on your time with The Authority and everything since then for our next interview day, maybe also dig a little deeper into your new alliance with Undisputed Era." Adaline tried not to breathe a sigh of relief, already worn out from the questions. "Last thing. What are your expectations going into NXT, considering all that you've gone through in sixteen years?"

A question that she didn't know the answer to.

"It's good catching up with you. You have your locker number?" Coach Bloom stood up from his chair from across the desk, extending his hand for Adaline to shake.

She nodded, taking his hand. "Yes, sir. I'll be on my way, then."

Being called into the head trainer's office was similar to the feeling of being called into the principal's office and she had more fear in her body than someone who had just arrived should have had. That was the feeling that Bloom gave off to all NXT residents, but she knew that there was always care behind his tough demeanour. He simply wanted to welcome her properly to the PC on her first official day.

Meanwhile, Serena had been sitting to the side of the two of them and she couldn't confine the grin stretching across her face. When they had shook hands, she instead pulled her old friend into a tight embrace.

"I'm so happy you're here," she whispered into her ear, not caring that Bloom was rolling his eyes at them, mumbling about something for the two women to take it outside of his office.

They had only reunited so few times since Serena signed on as a coach for the Centre a year ago and it only made the moment feel so much sweeter. At the very beginning of Adaline's career, Serena had served as such a helpful mentor figure, even going into their short lived time in the FCW women's locker room together. To have their paths intersect once again, at yet another pivotal part in Adaline's life, seemed poetic in a sense.

Adaline walked out of the office, in tow with Serena. "I guess I'll be responding to your drills again, huh?"

"And you better do it damn well," she raised an eyebrow at the younger woman. "I'm still in shock that you're here. They really didn't want you going anywhere else, huh?"

Shrugging in response, the Canadian sighed. "I'm in shock, too—considering that NXT wasn't apart of the plan." Adaline was getting tired complaining about how the wool was pulled over her eyes during her contract negotiations, but it was starting to fully settle in. Meeting the guys in Hunter's office softened the blow. It was time to shut up and accept the facts.

"People everywhere watched what you did all over the world during those two years that you were gone. You don't need this company to be a star, they need you," Serena said. "Have you maybe considered that you're here because you did all you could do on RAW and Smackdown?"

Those words echoed in Adaline's head, as she trudged into the women's locker room.

It had almost ten years since she started this journey in this company and it seemed like almost everybody that started with her had already grown tired of it. Her first road wives, April and Celeste, were long gone. Danielle decided that she was worn out and was gone. Trinity had recently taken time off and wasn't sure when she was coming back to the ring. Saraya, someone who Adaline thought would be wrestling in her sixties, was retired. Even the goddamn Bellas weren't around anymore. Ninety percent of the division from a decade ago was gone. Wasn't she exhausted, too?

She envied women like Becky and Pamela, who were still hungry for more. There were others who had just made the main roster and some down with her in NXT now, who suffered through the struggles of the indies and were still ready to claw up to the top. Adaline wondered where that drive was for her.

Every locker was labelled by ring name, some with more long-standing plates—mainstays like Io Shirai and Bianca Belair. Meanwhile, others simply had a laminated piece of paper slapped on top of the metal. These were the recruits who had yet to prove themselves, the names that Adaline couldn't recognize.

A shiny, new plate shone on the locker that sat at the corner of the room. Aspen Glory, it read, in all of its permanent lustre.

She slammed her gym bag onto the bench, the impact echoing throughout the empty room. The process felt foreign, making a locker home when Adaline spent so many years travelling to probably hundreds of different arenas and treating each space and moment as temporary. She wasn't sure where to begin, as she unlocked the door and was met with a clean, baby blue interior.

There were some basic things that she brought, like extra socks, a water bottle, and shower shoes. Adaline quickly filled the locker up with these contents and it still appeared so barren to her. What the hell else was she supposed to put in it? She shrugged, not thinking too much about it. Then, she heard the door creak open.

Somewhat hidden away from the front of the locker room, Adaline could hear a distinct voice that seemed to be talking to someone over the phone and a smile formed, hoping it was who she thought it was.

"Yeah, that sounds good for dinner. I just got into the PC, I think Cheree's already waiting for me. You know how she is, she's always early. Alright, bye, Johnny, I love you. See you."

A flash of blonde hair only confirmed Adaline's suspicions. It was Candice LeRae, who hummed the melody of a 90s pop song and chewed bubblegum, as she strolled over without noticing the other female in the room. She easily unlocked her name plated locker, which was across from Adaline's, and nearly everything spilled out from it being too full.

She groaned. "Oh, crap," Candice said, trying to chase a bottle of dry shampoo that had begun rolling across the floor, only to be met with Adaline's bemused expression.

"Hi."

"Hey," Candice replied with a grin, a little perplexed.

Almost instantaneously, they pulled each other into a hug. Knowing that she would be diving head first into the unknown, Adaline was aware that she couldn't navigate all on her own. The two Breezango idiots were too busy figuring their own things out and she couldn't voice her anxiety to her new stable mates, wanting to give off a confident face. There were only so many people that Adaline could turn to outside of them, so she gave Candice a heads up that she was now reporting to the Performance Centre.

Adaline bent down and reached out for the lavender can for her shorter friend, passing it to her. "Your shit's a mess, girl."

"Yours will be, too. Give it a month," she rolled her eyes and peeked over her shoulder at Adaline's belongings on the bench. "You're moving in today?! I honestly did not expect to see you here so soon."

"I told you that I landed a few days ago, didn't I? I've been in meetings all weekend," Adaline replied with a groan. She had only been in Orlando for such a short amount of time and the amount of work and settling she had to do was taxing. The NXT tapings hadn't even begun, yet.

Candice said, "Yeah, it doesn't really slow down for another week or so. You'll love it here, I promise." As everyone else had promised Adaline, who clearly wasn't convinced.

The blonde turned around and put the can back into its place—if it even had one, in that mess of a locker—and began rummaging through her personal possessions. Candice let a out a soft a-ha! when she found what she was looking for at the back of the space, a Minnie Mouse hairbrush. Adaline chuckled softly at the sight and turned around, closing her own locker.

"Are you off to go workout?"

"Yeah, Cheree's wanted to get some cardio in. Any more meetings today?" Candice replied.

Adaline shook her head. "No, just moving in." She gestured to her gym bag and locker.

"Well, while you're here, the taping schedule is posted up by the west wing double doors, you know, the ones to the main gym. We can check it out together. Actually, would your name even be on there?" Candice thought to herself, considering that she was one of the few people who were made aware of Adaline's presence. The taping schedule wasn't usually subject to the change unless there was an injury, but producers were known edited the cards last minute to accommodate random returns and debuts before, at least once the talent found out.

The woman in question just shrugged in response. "Beats me. It doesn't hurt to look, right?"

"Then, we can check out the travel schedule. Ooh, I hope you're coming with us to the midwest loop at the end of the month!" Candice became giddy. "We'll hit the road together, no men! I wish we got to do that more often when you were in Cali."

Adaline didn't get the opportunity to do so often, but she loved wrestling in The Golden State and especially in PWG. When she worked with them in the past, she always travelled and hung out with Candice.

"I don't think so, but probably the next one?" she shrugged.

The two began chatting more for the next few minutes, mostly about Adaline settling in and her new house. Always the lazy type, she'd been procrastinating and the boxes in her home were left untouched, despite her promising herself that she would get it all out. The small talk about something other than wrestling for once settled the restlessness in Adaline, a small distract of sorts.

It wasn't like she disliked talking about wrestling, rather it was all that seemed to be on her mind for the past while since Wrestlemania. Somehow, it was the first time Adaline really took notice of that, considering she lived, breathed, and ate wrestling for the past sixteen years of her life. A part of her felt worrisome for the sudden awareness of it, wondering it had any relation to her other career concerns.

Unfortunately, the brief, sweet wrestling-free moment was cut short when the locker room door slammed open.

Everyone knew who Shayna Baszler was, or at least, every woman in the company did. After all, the current NXT Women's Champion was probably next in line to overtake your spot in the animal kingdom. Management wanted to push her to lead the division once she would inevitably leave NXT and become a box office draw for all of the big pay-per-views and tours and media.

Some said that Shayna was one of, if not, the most intimidating women on the NXT roster and bore a vicious gaze. Even upon entering the locker room that was nearly empty, her presence demanded attention. All eyes drew to her so naturally and so quickly as they tore away from her out of fear.

"Out of my way," was all she had to say to Adaline, not even flinching at the sight of the veteran and former women's champion.

Adaline zoned out for a moment, completely baffled by the attitude that she was just given. She couldn't help but scoff, trying to process the disrespect that was being shown to her.

She narrowed her eyes at Shayna. "The hell did you just say to me?"

In between them, Candice just sighed. It seemed like that she wanted to end what was going to be an ugly dispute early, but something held her back. Adaline hoped it wasn't out of intimidation by the former mixed martial artist.

Shayna stared back at the woman in front of her. "You think you can just waltz in here and act like you got this brand on lock? They get tired of you on the main roster and Japan couldn't offer you enough money, so you come down here to fuck around?"

Adaline wanted to find out how Shayna found out that she was going to be here, but that wasn't the main concern of hers. Her jaw nearly dropped to the ground, hearing Shayna's words. Clearly, she didn't like her or some rumours already began to float around backstage. Regardless, Adaline was already on the bad side of the de facto locker room leader.

With the fury running through her body, though, she didn't give a damn.

"I'm going to say this once, so you better listen up," Shayna began, "I think you're entitled. I think that you've ridden on the coattails of your ex-boyfriend for your entire career. So, I don't like you. Plain and simple."

"You think you know me?" Adaline's voice began to rise, but Shayna held up a hand and didn't let her finish.

She said, "Maybe for you, being here is like a little vacation before someone like Ashley Flair gets injured and creative will need another spoiled brat to bury their women's division with on Smackdown. For some of us, NXT is our entire lives. Don't mess that up for us."

With that, Shayna bumped Adaline's shoulder when she walked away to the other side of the room and behind a wall to another area of lockers. All she could hear after was the stomping of boots and the slamming of a metal door open. Meanwhile, she was in complete shock of the conversation that just happened, wondering if she just imagined it.

Looking at Candice's sheepish expression, though, it confirmed that Shayna Baszler did indeed strut right up to Adaline and cussed out one of the scariest warnings that the latter had ever heard in her life.

"Honestly, she gives that talk to every new girl," Candice said in a low voice, as she ushered Adaline out of the locker room.

"You can't be serious," Adaline shot back, still worked up over what happened. It took all the will in her body to not barge right back in and swing at Shayna's smug face.

The target was now on her back and she had yet to even step into the yellow brand's ring. If she was being honest, it was definitely a wake up call to where she was now and the expectations weighing down on her shoulders. She didn't know what she was supposed to do. She didn't even want to be here. Adaline wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was terrified for the first time in years.

#adam cole imagine #adam cole fanfiction #adam cole x reader #wwe fanfic #nxt fanfic #wwe imagine #hm series

[imalwaysintune]

Soft JonMartin pt. 2

Thank you so much for the love on my first story! I t was wonderful reading all the positive feedback. And thank you to @ggracee for making beautiful art for it.

If you have any requests, please send them to my ask box or message me. I’m also in the process of making an AO3 account so be on the lookout for that.

Please don’t judge too hard cause their probably not all in character but i have a lot of soft feelings i need to get out and it is being projected onto these characters. Enjoy!

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“What? Elias, I don’t understand. It’s not even a holiday today.” Jon spoke to Elias, trying very hard to keep up with the man’s eager stride.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, little Archivist. Tell everyone that they can go home. Consider it a gift, if that tickles your fancy.” Elias drawled, opening the door to his office. “I promise everything here will be fine. Plus, you look a little worse for wear. Go suck a statement out of somebody or something.” At that, Elias slammed the door to his office, leaving Jon dumbfounded.

Normally, Jon would want to argue with him. He would want to fight against the decision Elias has made, but today he just… couldn’t. Elias was right, and that annoyed Jon. He was tired, and more hungry than he had been in a long time. He decided to drop the issue and just enjoy the free day that he had been given.

As Jon began walking around the institute, relaying the message Elias had told him to, he ran into Martin. Martin helped him with the few people left while Jon went into the Archives to collect his things. Not that he had much; just his journal and charger for his phone. Not that he really used it all that often anymore. The only people who texted him were Martin and Basira. But he rarely answered. Jon sighed, staring at the device when he heard a knock on the door. Gentle, but it made him smile to himself. “Come in, Martin,” He said.

The door opened, revealing the redhead Jon had come to rely on heavily these past few months. Martin smiled gently. A rush of dizziness ran through Jon’s head, causing him to lean heavily against the chair leaned against his desk. Martin quickly rushed over to support Jon, looping the smaller man’s arm around his shoulders. “Careful, Jon. You need to take care of yourself. When’s the last time you... fed?” He asked carefully, careful to not talk to loud as to spook Jon. 

Jon slowly looked up at Martin, his mouth suddenly being deprived of all moisture. He swallowed in vain before speaking, “I... um... maybe a month? It’s hard to keep track of time in the grand scheme of things, right now, to be honest.”

He slipped his arm from across Martin and stood up on his own, his shoulders rolled back and his chin high. “I’ll be okay. Ah, but since we have the rest of the day off today because Elias is... busy... we should get out of here. Don’t want to upset the boss.”

“I was actually going to come to you to talk about that. I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place. We don’t really see each other much out of work now and I have extra tea at my house that I didn’t mean to buy, but the tea was one sale and so I bought so much more than I’ll ever need and-”

“Martin. Martin!” Jon interrupted Martin’s ramble. A smile was tugging at the edge of his mouth, but from what he couldn’t tell. He was tired, oh so tired, but still he felt compelled to accept the invitation Martin had extended to him. He normally wouldn’t let himself indulge in something he wanted to do when he knew he had things that he was supposed to be doing. But Martin’s little hopeful sent shivers down Jon’s spine he couldn’t ignore. So he did accept, gladly basking in the chance to let himself relax. 

Before he knew it, Martin was driving him to his flat. He didn’t think about how he’d get home later, about how his car was still at the institute, about how Martin had said offhandedly that he has a spare bedroom that is currently unoccupied. All he thought about was the man in the driver’s seat. He allowed himself short glaces over to him while he was distracted, staring at the busy intersections in front of them. 

Every time he looked over, Jon felt his face flush and his stomach turn over. He didn’t know why this was happening, as he usually associated those feelings with fear, but he knew that he wasn’t scared. He felt more content than he ever had in his life, sitting next to Martin. Soon, though, his thoughts shifted to how tired he really was. His eyelids began to close, sleep quickly overcoming him like a gentle wave. He didn’t think, just let the feeling take him over as he fell asleep leaning against the passenger side window.

When Jon came to, he didn’t recognize his surroundings. What he did notice, though, was a few things. First, he was in a bed. Not, he decided, his bed, but it was comfortable and soft. Second he realized the decorations that covered the walls. They were pictures, he saw, pictures of various people whom he did not know, save for one. Martin. Suddenly it clicked, he was in Martin’s flat and had no recollection of coming inside himself.

Christ, he thought, Martin must have someone carried me in here himself. The selfless bastard. 

Jon slowly got out of bed, his joints screaming against the movement. He ignored them, like he always did, and began scanning the room with his eyes. It was Martin at different points in his life, surrounded by people Jon knew he’d never met, or will ever meet. Still he was drawn to a particular face in one of the pictures. It was a ginger, more heavy-set woman holding a child that looked an awful lot like Martin as a toddler. He felt the pressure beneath his eyes but decided to ignore it. He didn’t want to peer into parts of Martin’s life he wasn’t inclined to tell. But then again, it didn’t matter anyways when he heard footsteps come up right behind him.

He knew who it was before he turned around. Martin’s voice spoke quietly and broke the silence. “That’s my mum. Or, it was my mum. Before she passed away. A while before she passed away. Sorry, it’s hard to talk about.”

Jon finally turned around and faced Martin, a wave of what he thought was nausea passing over him. He awkwardly collapsed into Martin, his bony joints pressing against Martin’s soft body. But Martin managed to catch him nonetheless and set Jon down onto the bed. “You need to rest,” was all he said. 

Jon didn’t have the energy to argue, and instead let the sweet lullaby of Martin’s voice lull him to sleep. Funny, he thought, I’ve never heard Martin sing before.

When Jon woke up for the second time, it was noticeably darker. He could see the outline of Martin in the same position he had been before he’d fallen asleep. Had he been there the whole time?

Soon Jon realized with a jolt, though, that Martin was speaking. Softly, bare audible, so Jon had to strain his ears to actually hear what he was saying. He almost seemed to be talking to somebody, but Jon couldn’t make out the outline or light of a phone.

“-and I know you’re still asleep so you’ll never hear this. Maybe that’s for the better. Maybe we’re- maybe I’m meant to be unhappy. Just look at you from the sidelines and cheer you on from the stands. You’re the hero Jon, not me. The hero isn’t supposed to fall in love with a bystander, much less a guy. He’s supposed to fall in love with the sexy damsel in distress. Someone like Melanie or Basira. But I supposed they’re not really damsels, per say. I mean Melanie literally gorged her eyes out, but she’s with Georgie now. And Basira can hold her own better than any of us. 

“Sorry, I’m rambling.” He laughed. “I don’t know why I apologized though because, well, you can’t hear me.”

Martin took a pause, staying quiet for so long that Jon was worried he wasn’t going to speak again,  but suddenly he let out a deep sigh.

“I guess the moral of the story is that I love you Jon. But I’m too scared to tell you to your face, so I’m instead telling you while you sleep. It’s a coward move, I know, but I’m just scared. We’ve only just started getting closer, I don’t want to push you away so soon. I have to constantly push down the urges to hug or kiss you. I don’t think I hide it well, unfortunately. Daisy gives me these... looks, like she just knows what I’m thinking. It seems you’re the only one who doesn’t know at this point. I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you to your face. But this will have to do for now.”

Martin was silent again, and finally he moved. Jon felt the weight leave the bed, and soon the sound of a door opening and footsteps retreating down the hall. Jon sat up as quietly as he could and leaned against the wall, his face cool. When he reached up to touch it, his hands came away wet. He realized then that he’s been crying, for how long he didn’t know. 

“Holy shit, Martin,” He whispered, wiping the rest of the tears from his face.

Again he felt his stomach turn, and his face heat up. He didn’t know what it meant. He didn’t know what any of it meant, he didn’t know what to do. He just sat there, staring at his hands until he heard the footsteps returning down the hall. He did not move as he saw the silhouette of Martin appear in the doorway. The figure froze, and only moved after a few seconds to turn on the lights.

Suddenly Jon could see all of Martin, his disheveled hair and tear stained face. Had he been crying?

“Uh, h-hi Jon. Glad to see you’re awake. Are you feeling any better?” Martin asked gently. Had he always been this gentle?

“Martin I-” He froze, unsure how to respond to the entire situation he’d found himself in. “Um, I’m fine. Better than fine. I, um, heard what you said. Or, some of it. The end of it.”

Martin’s soft smile dropped, and so did the mug he was holding in his hands. He slowly sank to his knees, not caring about the broken ceramic mug. His head dropped into his hands and he began shaking, slow heavy sobs being released through his hands.

Jon sprung off the bed and over to Martin, careful to not step on any of the shattered mug. He slowly grabbed Martin’s hands and peeled them away from his face. He gripped them tightly, and stood as he led Martin over to the bed. He sat the man down gently and began picking pieces of ceramic off his skin. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” He ordered, leaving the room and returning a minute later with a wet washcloth.

Jon began to wipe Martin’s knees carefully, weary to remove as much of the shrapnel as he could. Martin was silent through all of this, just staring intently at either Jon or his knees, trying to keep the whimpers of pain to a minimum. 

When Jon was finished, he stood and threw the cloth in what he assumed to be the dirty hamper. He then sat down next to the larger man, looking impossibly small next to him. But he was stronger than he looked, he knew, and took Martin’s hand into his own. It was such a simple movement, but it caused the butterflies in his stomach to persist harder. He fought down the emotion and spoke as levelly as he could.

“Martin, I don’t understand love. That’s not to say I don’t feel it, it’s just even if I did, I don’t think I would know. Or, well, Know. But, every time I’m around you, my stomach feels uneasy and I can’t help but to want to look at you. Doesn’t that mean something?”

Martin perked up at that, smiling warily at Jon, wiping his face of the rest of the tears. “Jon, you’re so oblivious. Don’t you understand? I’ve loved you for literal years, and it’s taken you this long to sort through your feelings. Christ, I never thought we would be having this conversation.”

“But I- I want to Martin. I think I understand now. I’ve been... I’ve been reading romance novels and-”

Martin burst out laughing at that, his voice incredulous, “Romance Novels?? The Jonathan Sims has been reading romance novels? For what? How to know if you’re in love or not? That’s not how you-” The look on Jon’s face shut him up. “Oh my God, you were reading them to find out about love. Jon, I didn’t- I’m sorry-”

It was Jon’s turn to laugh. He placed his hand on top of Martin’s and leaned on him. “It’s quite alright, Martin. I just didn’t know how else to get answers to my questions, and The Eye was keen on telling me. So, yes. Romance novels.”

He felt Martin move above him, and turned at the same time Martin tried to look down at Jon. What happened instead, however, sent shivers down both their spines. Martin leaned down a little too far, and their lips brushed. Soon Jon felt Martin above him again, but this was, was pushed to the mattress with a weight on top of him. His mind turned blank, not inclined to help him out but it didn’t matter. His instincts kicked in and soon he was kissing Martin back. He was kissing him back.

It was the softest thing he had ever felt. With a jolt, though, Martin sat up and scrambled off the bed, off of Jon. He suddenly felt cold as Martin stared at Jon with wide eyes. 

“We should, um, probably head to bed. You can sleep in here, I’ll crash in the other bedroom. Goodnight, Jon, um, I’m sorry.” Martin stammered.

Groggily Jon smiled, and reached out his arms for Martin. “Please, stay with me tonight. I lost you so much already, I don’t want to lose you again.”

And so Martin did. He slept with Jon that night, relishing in the fact that Jon had asked him to stay. He couldn’t leave Jon when he was finally asking for him. Right before Martin finally fell asleep though, he heard Jon whisper in the dark.

“I love you too, Martin.”

The End!

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #my work #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #soft jonmartin #ahh i love them so much #this took me a few hours to write and im proud #if you have requests #please dont be afraid to send me an ask! #i need more ideas #thanks for reading!!