#JON GOT TO SEE HIS BOY GET HIS FIRST WIN

[f1-birb]

the day gets even better 🥹

thank you p1_coach aka Rupert for this

#miami gp 2024 #jontent #jon malvern #lando norris #rupert manwaring #JON GOT TO SEE HIS BOY GET HIS FIRST WIN #and thank you jas ily

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up. 

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well? 

DINGUS: so it seemed. 

ARGYLE  😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour. 

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe. 

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance? 

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next? 

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve. 

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first. 

He’s making no move to get up off the floor. 

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.” 

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through. 

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious. 

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you. 

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion. 

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?” 

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.” 

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything. 

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.” 

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.” 

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.” 

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms. 

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush? 

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively. 

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.” 

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.” 

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit. 

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?” 

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better. 

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.” 

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.” 

“Then consider this your notice.” 

Is this what I had always been missing out on? 

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning. 

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?” 

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.” 

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.” 

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you. 

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there. 

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home. 

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really. 

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions. 

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation. 

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.” 

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?” 

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?” 

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?” 

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.” 

“What have you guys been doing?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.” 

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?” 

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says. 

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.”��

“Am I?” 

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder. 

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.” 

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“ 

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.” 

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.” 

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.” 

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet. 

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.” 

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket. 

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.” 

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over. 

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now. 

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around. 

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.” 

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night. 

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly. 

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center. 

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well. 

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it. 

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches. 

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now. 

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now. 

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.” 

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.” 

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.” 

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?” 

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t. 

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing. 

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it. 

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to. 

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave. 

Eddie’s quick to follow. 

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure. 

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C. 

Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

But it sure does feel like it. 

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave. 

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you. 

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?” 

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?” 

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck. 

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.” 

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you. 

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Time. You two needed time apart. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet. 

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away. 

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful. 

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went. 

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart. 

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.” 

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat. 

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind? 

That wasn’t really complicated. 

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.” 

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes. 

You wish you would have kissed him. 

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-” 

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend. 

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours. 

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be. 

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems. 

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted. 

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Rough’s a good way to put it. 

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it. 

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend. 

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy. 

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress. 

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie. 

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along. 

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless. 

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration. 

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again. 

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two.  And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s. 

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two. 

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him. 

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time. 

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to. 

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears. 

EDDIE: Make it home okay? 

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now. 

YOU: yep. my roommate just left. 

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember? 

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud. 

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone. 

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams. 

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care. 

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened. 

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now. 

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds. 

EDDIE: Ah. I see. 

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over? 

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems. 

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down. 

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours. 

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos. 

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you. 

YOU: About what? 

EDDIE: I’m not home right now. 

Your heart clenches. 

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not. 

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere. 

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is. 

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step. 

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you. 

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues. 

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist. 

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.” 

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter. 

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool. 

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?” 

“Start over?” you question wearily. 

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.” 

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.” 

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you. 

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss. 

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?” 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” 

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home. 

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.” 

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #this feels so surreal to post jesus christ #thank you guys genuinely for all the love #i will be making a sappy post before i post the epilogue on thursday #i just #wow #yeah #i did it #again #i finished a fucking fic

[thealtoduck]

Forbidden Fruit

Theon Greyjoy x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut, Theon in his asshole era, anal sex, loss of virginity, doggy style, use of the word ”whore”, use of the word ”maiden” for a virgin man because it’s a thing in the GoT/Asoiaf, Theon referring to your ass as a ”cunt”, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, spit as lube, everyone kinda wants to fuck you too…

Summary: Theon has his eyes set on you and wants to be your first…

——

The sounds swords clanging against each other rang out over the courtyard of Winterfell as Theon Greyjoy and Robb Stark practised their swordfighting. Both of them in full focus on the task of beating the others.

Theon was just about to land a winning strike when someone behind Robb distracted him, stealing his focus. A beautiful young man, Y/n Poole, the son of the steward of Winterfell. Theon was distracted just long enough for Robb to be able to knock him to the ground.

”Come on Theon, keep your eyes on your opponent” Robb said annoyed and turned to see what Theon had been looking at, his eyes landing on you. ”Y/n, the steward’s son?” Robb questioned his friend. ”I’ve heard one of the chefs claim he took his virginity but he was drunk so i think he might have lied” Robb gossiped as he continued looking at you.

”I wouldn’t mind fucking him myself” he then said to the annoyance of Theon. ”Oh please, is the little lord Robb Stark gonna fuck the steward’s son?” Theon mocked him. ”He needs someone to take his boy cunt like the little whore he is” Theon said looking hungrily towards you as you were talking to a couple of castle guards.

”And that’s going to be you?” Robb questioned sarcastically. But Theon wasn’t listening he was already planning.

——

That night during dinner…

Theon watched you as you sat next to Jon, chatting cheerfully. Theon needed to catch you alone. Luckily for him he’d get his shot soon… You were also sat next to Sansa Stark which put you in the crossfire between her and her sister Arya’s never ending war.

Arya loaded her spoon with a piece of meat pie and launched it towards Sansa… but she missed hitting your chest, dirtying your light grey tunic. ”Arya! Look what you did?!” Sansa scolded her younger sister. ”I’m so sorry about her” Sansa apologised frantically as she tried to wipe of your shirt with a cloth napkin.

”Don’t worry about it Lady Sansa, i’ll just go change” you said calmly, standing up from the table and walking off. Theon saw this was his chance to finally meet you alone.

He soon managed to sneak away from the the dining hall. He stopped by the kitchens and snagged two goblets and a pitcher of wine, then he made his way through Winterfell castle towards the small part occupied by Steward of Winterfell and his family.

He knocked on the door he knew belonged to you. ”One moment” came your voice from the inside. Then the door opened revealing you in a nightshirt and underwear, you quickly wrapped yourself in a thin blue robe to cover up more for you’re unexpected visitor.

”Theon” you said happily at sight of him. ”Sorry, i’m not more properly dressed i was just about to go to bed” you said tying your robe. ”Oh no worries” he said with a flirty smile, you were gonna be even less dressed once he was done with you.

”How can i help you?” you asked. ”Oh, i just wondered if you’d like to have quick drink with me” he said holding up the pitcher and the two goblets he brought. You looked unsure. ”If your not too tired of course” he quickly added.

”Of course, a drink wouldn’t hurt” you said and held open the door for him, letting him in to your bed chamber. Theon observed the room, it was smaller than his own. It had a small square window with a nice view. A little fire place where a fire was burning, heating up the cold castle room.

A square table with a set of two chairs and a clothing chest right next to it. And finally the bed, which was draped in soft blankets. Above it hung a banner for your House, House Poole. The room was textbook definition of what Theon would describe as cozy.

You sat down in one of the chairs by the table, as Theon put the goblets on the table, pouring wine in each and then putting the pitcher down. He sat down in the other chair, you both grabbed your goblets. ”Cheers” Theon said and you clinked your goblets together and drank.

The two of you talked for a while. Theon decided to start testing the waters. He moved his leg slightly making it rest against yours, your eyes drifted to his leg for half a second before you looked back to him but you didn’t move away.

Time passed as you told Theon a story, once you finished it became quiet through the chamber. ”You’re really pretty you know” Theon stated boldly filling the silence in the room. Before you had time to respond Theon started talking ”Some of the staff has been talking about it, how they want to fuck you. Even the lordling Robb Stark said so”.

”And i understand them, you are very pretty” he continued. You looked rather unsure what to answer. ”Tell me Y/n, have you ever been fucked before?” Theon asked shamelessly, leaning closer to you. ”I… no, i have not” you told him, trying to stay casual.

”Would you like to be?” Theon then asked immodestly, leaving you slightly stunned. ”By-…By you?” you asked, Theon gave you a smirk as comformation. ”I-I wouldn’t know what to do” you said shyly. Theon played with the strings of your night shirt and said ”Don’t worry, i’ll show you”.

He then pulled you in to a kiss, his lips pushing hungrily against yours. Theon pulled you both up from your seats leading you to the middle of the room as you made out. Theon pulled of your robe, then his own jacket and he continued until you were both left naked in front of each other.

Your dick had gotten erected from Theon’s sudden interest in you and it made Theon’s own manhood swell with pride. He took your wrist in his hand and guided your hand over his slightly fuzzy chest down to his erect manhood. It was the first time you had ever touched another man in such a manner.

He made you enclose your fingers around his hardend cock and tug at it a little, rubbing him off slowly. ”Feel what you do to me Y/n” he uttered.

He led you backwards towards your beds and your naked bodies climbed up on it. Theon laid you down on the bed and the two of you passionately made out. Theon moved his hands to you ass and let his fingers graze against your hole.

You were unfamiliar with his action as you had never experienced it before but let Theon continue. He slowly started pushing his finger inside you, making you audibly gasp against his lips at the feeling of being streched out. ”That’s right relax” Theon instructed.

Once he added next finger he did it more hastily, making you yelp quietly. Theon let out a small chuckle ”Such a warm nice cunt for me to fuck” Theon said before shoving in a third finger.

Theon then stood up on his knees, he grabbed you and positioned you on all fours, ass spread out in front of him. He spit in to his own hand rubbing it on his manhood. ”I’m gonna take you like a real lord would” Theon said which you wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a warning.

Theon didn’t waste any time and started pushing his rockhard cock inside your virgin hole, making you groan, feeling yourself be filled. ”Fuck your tight around my cock” Theon said pleasureably sheathing himself fully inside you.

Before you had time to adjust he snapped his hips forwards thrusting into you making you release a small cry. ”Was this what he had meant? Was this how lords fucked their wives?” you thought to yourself.

Theon grabbed your hips and started setting a pace a his hips thrust against your ass. His raw cock forcing your walls to stretch, you released several whines as Theon roughly plowed in to you. ”Fuck Theon, you’re so big” you said through your pained but pleasured moans.

Theon grabbed your head as he pounded your ass saying ”What would your steward father say? Seeing his son deflowered by Eddard’s Stark ward like some common whore”. As he thrusted as hard in to you as his body would let him.

”Maybe i should go get him after this and make him come look at his son’s cum stained body” Theon said cockily. You however couldn’t answer him as you had your face pressed against the matress moaning endlessly from the ecstasy of Theon’s cock fucking you.

”Maybe i should start coming by every night and make good use of your cunt and fill you with my seed” he suggested, his thrusts rocking your bed back and forth. ”Shame you can’t have my bastards” he added.

From the endless groans to the creaking bed, you hoped no one could hear you getting your virginity fucked out of you by Theon. You felt your own cock twitching getting close to your orgasm. ”I’m gonna cum” you moaned. And soon after your load dripped down on the sheets below.

Theon kept plowing in to you for several minutes, claiming your ass as his. Sweat glazed his and your body as the room had gotten hot and damp. He grunted and uttered a satisfied ”I’m gonna fill you with my cum”.

With one last rough thrust Theon shoved his manhood deep inside you, his cock erupting staining your innocene with his warm seed. He then pulled out of you with a smirk, seeing his cum leak out of puckered hole and running down your legs. You collapsed on to the matress below in exhaustion.

Theon was just about to get ready to leave but he couldn’t leave you like this. He covered your nakedness under the covers and blankets. He then started getting dressed and before he left planted a kiss on your forehead saying ”You were so good to me, Y/n, better than any common whore, you were divine”. He then gave you a last kiss before he left your bed chambers with a smirk and a feeling of satisfaction, and maybe even a little bit of love.

#theon greyjoy x male reader #theon greyjoy x male!reader #a song of ice and fire x male reader #game of thrones x male reader #game of thrones x male!reader #asoiaf x male reader #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #theon greyjoy x male reader smut #game of thrones x male reader smut #male reader smut #x male reader smut

[basilf1res]

Memento Mori - DPxDC

What was beyond death. Was there anything at all? Was there nothing?

That was what he always wondered.

When Clark was a child, he looked up to his fictional hero: Danny Phantom. A half-dead guy in a comic book series that led to the most bisexual awakenings in the century.

Clark liked to go back and reread the comic books from Issue #1 (they were fairly short, but all parts of an “episode”, almost like those ads on shows, but the wait time was every two weeks). He tended to read them all in one sitting, and yet oddly enough, never disturbed as he murmured the made-up summoning spell under his breath.

He could’ve sworn he had been going through them for over an hour and not twenty minutes.

It was Phantom who inspired him to continue being Superman in his darkest moments. He also considered himself physical proof that Danny’s palette swap was enough to hide his identity.

The glasses ARE enough.

When Clark found out he had a clone, he was ecstatic to be able to teach Conner anything everything, to answer any questions his little brother had.

Danielle “Dani” Phantom and her awaited return in “Issue #46 D-stabilized” caused him to become a mama bear to Conner out of the fear he would melt within a few weeks. But it wasn’t like anyone at the Watchtower had to know that small detail.

Getting married to Lois was the best day of his life, the day of Jon’s birth also fighting for that first place spot in his mind.

He had a clone brother, a wonderful wife, a beautiful son, and an amazing group of friends that work together to protect the planet he calls home.

But everything started to fall apart when a protest against metas took it too far, Jon’s powers started to develop and he was seen accidentally tripping, falling, and catching himself by hovering a few inches above the pavement.

Jon said he considered himself lucky nothing scarred. He laughed everything off when it came to the topic.

But it shook Clark, Lois, and Conner to the core.

Memento mori.

It reminded Superman that despite his impenetrable skin, Death can come at any moment. Even for him.

—————————

When Danny was a little boy, he dreamt of reaching the stars, he wanted to be able to touch the moon, explore Mars, and roam the galaxy he resides in and beyond.

He read these comic books of a league of heroes, a team with space cops, super powered humans, a man dressed in a bat suit that was more effective at capturing rogues and villains than some of the powered members, aliens, and so much more.

He flipped through the weekly published comics, learning to read better than most at a young age. He had two favorites, Superman and Martian Manhunter.

Danny wanted to explore the stars like his heroes. He wanted to be able to fight as well as the big Bat. He wanted superpowers. He wanted to help people. He wanted to fight his own set of supervillains. He wanted to be able to succeed and be loved.

Oh how he got everything he wanted but the last.

Tucker and Sam were the only reason he hadn’t broken yet, the reason he was still standing.

The anti-ecto acts, the GIW, Vlad, Pariah Dark, and his- Jack and Maddie’s sadistic comments about ghosts were the last straw.

The hero always wins… they don’t die to the evil they want to stop… right..?

Right..?

…

The sound of a scraping scalpel, the buzz of the lights, and the squeals of pleasure - as his ghostly heart was found again and again and prodded again and again - filled his ears for an unknown length of time.

His cries for help were never answered until a summoning pulled at his core, it was a personal calling, someone had managed to find his calling card.

The tears of relief stung his eyes as the dissection table with his body strapped down to it was sucked into a summons portal.

He was spat out in front of kids, most likely teenagers, due to the shrieks of horror and surprise.

Oh… oh how he prayed to the Ancients that he’d live to see another day as a tears slipped out of his eyes.

Memento mori.

——————————

Jon found out about his comic book collection and wanted to show Damian.

Clark hummed as he typed up an official report on a rogue attack to send to the Watchtower.

His blood ran cold when he heard his son scream from over in Gotham.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc prompts #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #dc universe #dp #dc #danny phantom #giw #guys in white #ghost investigation ward #clark kent #lois lane #jon kent #damian wayne #superman #justice league #danny is not having a good time #ice core danny #memento mori

[atopvisenyashill]

not to keep harping on but definitely the complaint i see that really sticks in my craw is that the only reason or the main reason robb planned to banish catelyn to seaguard was because of their argument over jon. it’s certainly a factor but they have spent the entire war arguing over every decision robb makes! ned tells robb “keep your mother in your council” but robb really does not! he has her there, yes, he lets her speak, yes, but oftentimes he will disregard her advice without any appeasement, misstep badly, and be worse off politically in the exact way she warned him of. she’s not the only person he blows off - he’s not exactly nice to edmure either, for example - but cat is right when she suspects there’s an element of “kings are not supposed to have mothers” and “wedded to his war" and she clocks this long before the argument over jon! robb tries to get rid of her at the beginning of a clash of kings when all cat has done is urge him to continue peaceful negotiations with the lannisters!

robb is angry because he’s in over his head and he knows it, and it's got very little to do with jon! robb is losing this war and his best friend was the son of a man who crowned himself and lost the war!! robb knows exactly what’s going to happen to the north if he loses and despite everything, he cannot seem to win despite being a near prodigy in battle tactics. and here his mother has been this whole time, fighting him on every front - just like the lords but he cant punish them for disagreeing can he? - and being so frustratingly right about more things than his lords, and now they’re picking at this wound in their family that has never been allowed to heal and a lot of resentment that both robb and catelyn are feeling at their general situation gets focused in on each other. this is such a tully thing too (pls remember these are canonically unpleasant people!) because look at lysa projecting years of resentment onto sansa, look at the entire cat, hoster, edmure situation, or even hoster & blackfish’s relationship. family is so important to them but in times of stress, “doing everything for family” becomes an anchor pulling them down, until the only thing left is to lash out at each other.

most of the lords are happy to let this nonsense play out! catelyn does not even have the privilege maege & dacey mormont do at being head of their own house - she’s just a wife, just a mother, just a first born daughter. when she disagrees, they don’t see an equal arguing with them, they see a woman sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. they do not give a single solitary shit about like, ~the plight of bastards~ they just believe, like robb, that sansa is currently “tainted” by her marriage to a lannister and can’t be allowed to inherit, that arya is dead, that the boys are dead, that jeyne is not yet pregnant, and a bastard boy castle raised who looks like ned is better than no boy at all (see edric storm, addam of hull, and larence snow). these men have not spent the last fourteen years cooking in their resentment over this situation the way catelyn and robb have!

jon is a reason. but so is rickard karstark, jaime lannister, willem lannister, tion frey, renly baratheon, walder frey, and theon greyjoy. ned is a reason as well, and bran, sansa, rickon, arya, hoster, edmure, perhaps even lysa and sweetrobin. jon is the final straw but robb isn’t (only) sending catelyn away because of some righteous fury on his brother’s behalf! he’s sending her away because she is an easy, socially acceptable target for all his frustrations and failures and fears that he can project on, and punish, in a way he cannot punish his enemies, his lords, or himself.

and catelyn is as always very aware of the deeper motivations in her son’s mind, and resentful that she doesn’t have the power to push back; she’s just a mother, after all.

#getting on my soap box #robb stark #catelyn stark #valyrianscrolls #catelyn stark defense squad #cat/robb and ned/sansa/arya are the most interesting & realistic depictions of mother/son and father/daughter relationships send tweet #like the jon snow of it all is always relevant. but she is also right that she’s being punished for being a woman who won’t shut up. just b #some of her advice (SOME! NOT MOST!) is sketch or not good doesn’t mean they’re not punishing her. it’s not like edmure gives good advice! #but guess which tully is sent away!!!!!! edmure gets to have flaws. he gets to be wrong. catelyn does not. #motherhood #mothers and sons #gender politics in asoiaf

[pocketramblr]

Ask game, please! Dracula AU where Jonathan is a werewolf. It doesn’t end well (well, even sooner) for the count.

Ok love this also we're throwing werewolf lore in a blender to make this work and kinda fit the original novel. Kinda.

1- ok so Bram Stoker was Irish so our dear friend Jonathan is a descendent of Laignech Fáelad and the werewolves of Ossory, though one who's family has been in England for at least several generations now. Also, these are the "astral projection of spirit in the form of wolves" type of werewolves described in Nennius of Bangor's Historia Britonum, similar to the ones Augustine of Hippo say are possible through God to fight evil because uh whatever Christianity thing is going on in Dracula.

2- So when Jonny boy shows up to Transylvania and all the locals are freaked out about something, he looks in his Romanian to English dictionary and sees they're using a word that means either vampire or werewolf. And then he wonders if the Count is a werewolf too, and is curious about how that works here- the only other werewolves he ever knew were his mother and grandfather, but they are tragically long dead since he's an orphan who sees his boss as a parental figure. So when he hears wolves in the woods, he's not too concerned yet. When a woman presses a rosary into his hand, he awkwardly takes it and wonders if she'd be superstitious of him too, if she knew- but he really wants to meet the Count!

3- but then he meets the Count. And the Count does have the ability to somewhat control wolves... But he really also sets them off. They don't like him. And Jonathan? His inner wolf does not like this guy, it's unnatural, it's bad, he wants to bite but!! He can't do that, he's a real lawyer now and Mina would be so disappointed if he used his first customer as a chew toy. So he grins and bears it, wondering if it's just a territory thing, and wondering if the castle is so empty because the rest of the Count's family is out in wolf form. But... Where are the servants or anyone else?

4- Eerily, Jon goes to sleep, and his human body is left behind in his bed while his spirit pops out in wolf form. He can't smell anyone. Just the Count, and three faint scents, but they don't smell human. They don't even smell like real wolves. They smell like long dead corpses. Still nervous, Jon curls up in the corner and tries to get some rest as a wolf.

But then the Count comes in while he's "sleeping", getting close to the bed and frowning at the rosary. Jonathan's spirit werewolf has had enough and just jumps up, lunging on instinct to protect his human form.

A wolf battle commences, but Dracula hasn't had to put up an actual fight in so long, and Jonathan has the power of God and anime on his side so he wins- and the lady vampires drop dead from their connection to the Count. Freaking out about the murder, Jonny returns to his human body and runs.

5- when he returns to the town a day later, ragged and panicked, when the town hears about all four vampires being dead... They throw a party of a "funeral", everyone swears up and down that the Count and his family tragically died of a wolf attack the day before Jonathan got in and he found their bodies when the coach took him to the castle, and he's sent home bewildered but his boss is like "wow that really sucks, I'm sorry you had such a horribly unlucky first case, let's keep you close to home from now on. Also is your hair white now?"

No vampires travel into England, Jonathan is worried that his wolf form now being stark white is a bad omen, but Mina just pets him behind his ears and says she thinks it's cute, oh, also, Lucy wrote her about one Doctor Van Helsing that a friend of hers knows, he heard about the strange wolf attacks in Romania and blamed it on vampires, can you believe?

#also instead of the scene where Dracula goes to the zoo and makes the wolf mad #John and Mina go to the zoo and Jonathan talks to the wolf #who very calmly goes 'oh yeah that's cool‚ Puppy with Snow Fur‚ good hunting' #when Mina asks Jonathan does not translate the nickname #pocket talks to people #gentrychild #ask game #yes Mina has known the whole time her finance is a werewolf

[pluckyredhead]

I've been meaning to ask for a while, since you've read so much more Supers books than me, but what are your thoughts on Kon being retconned as Clark and Lex's lab grown love child? Asides from that one mind-controlled-into-shaving-his-head incident, did that ever factor into anything again? Is it even still canon? If it were up to you would you keep it and try to do something interesting with it or just sweep it under the rug and pretend it was never true?

I think it would be a great retcon if they ever did anything with it aside from one (1) incredibly stupid story.

Because the thing is, originally Kon's human donor was Paul Westfield, and genuinely, who the fuck cares about Paul Westfield? He was only relevant for, like, a year. He's a footnote at best.

But Lex? There's so much potential there:

How does Clark feel about it? Does he trust Kon less? Does he feel guilty about that? Does he defend him to people (Batman) who would question him?

What are Lex's plans? You can't tell me he would sic Kon on other heroes once and give up. Lex always plays the long game. He has to have other Machiavellian schemes. What if Kon gets the clone plague again and Lex has the cure? What if he built in a vulnerability other than kryptonite? Most interestingly, what if Lex cares?

And of course, most importantly, how does Kon feel about it? We've seen him ignoring it and then moping about it. And I think it was his Adventure Comics run where we saw him tracking his own behavior to see if he was more like Superman or Lex. But what if a story really interrogated the fact that Kon is a very different person than Clark? (Especially in light of Jon, Clark's mini-me.) Kon likes money; Lex is a billionaire. Kon loves attention; Lex is functionally a supervillain because he's jealous that people like Superman more. Kon is a sweet boy but he's not a shining paragon of virtue. Is that because of Lex's genes? Is everything good about Kon simply Superman's genes? Is Kon is own person with free will that exists beyond picking a donor to emulate? Is a clone a person at all? Let's get into it, DC!

If it was up to me, I would write two stories about it:

First is the story where Kon and Lex actually develop a relationship. Kon and Clark has never been close, and Kon has rarely had a stable home or consistent parental figures (Rex was untrustworthy, Dubbilex got written out a lot, Guardian died and came back as a child, Pa died, Ma lived but Kon died and then got retconned into another dimension...). Kon is primed to fall for lovebombing, especially if Lex is doing one of his regular "no, really, I'm Redemption Arc-ing for real this time!" routines. Especially right now with a trillion Supers Clark likes better hanging around Metropolis, and Lex swearing he's going to be Good...what if he stopped trying to convince Clark, and started trying to convince Kon? What if he spent time with him, and listened to him, and took his side against Clark, and let's be real, probably spent money like water on him? And what if Lex, despite himself, discovered that...he actually cared about his clone son?

Of course, Lex's self-interest would eventually win out. We see this over and over again, where he sacrifices his relationships on the altar of his ambition, where he just can't quite love anyone else as much as he loves being evil. And yes, Kon ends the story hurt, but also with another reminder that validation needs to come from within and not from a billionaire who wants something from you, even if he is your other dad.

(And maybe Clark is reminded that he has failed Kon. Again. Ahem.)

The second story I would write is the one where Lex goes to jail and Kon somehow inherits Lexcorp and many billions of dollars and is cartoonishly irresponsible with all of it. Lex gets out of jail and there's a giraffe in his office and all of his doomsday devices are full of Zesti Cola.

But yeah, instead DC does nothing with it. Literally a few months ago they had Clark and Kon and Lex all having a conversation about a villain Lex created and gave TTK to - so like, talking explicitly about how Lex created Kon, too - and aside from Kon being mildly snide, that was it. That was it! DC WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS. WHAT IS THE POINT OF SETTING UP SOMETHING SO JUICY AND THEN LEAVING THAT JUICE UNSQUOZE.

#kon el #superboy #lex luthor #superman #clark kent #meta

[hellkitepriest]

ee @ rough trade nottingham

finally getting to my little roundup several days later, hello. i must say going to nottingham was a real Choice for @shallowtboy and i, because it is not actually that convenient and close like liverpool is, and i mostly justified it with “well i went there to see dutch uncles in december so it’d be rude not to”. but we woke up and got on our stupid early train regardless.

went to an art gallery beforehand, found a copy of mark fisher’s capitalist realism in the gift shop — alex niven first read capitalist realism in january 2010, following a “head-on collision with the music industry”, did you know. saw a very cute pin of kraftwerk-style cats and nearly cried also.

when we queued up outside the venue (venue! it was Just A Shop) there were a good few people there already and we were glad we got down there when we did. doors were meant to be at 12, but they ended up letting us in half an hour later for some reason, which meant by the time we got in we had descended into some cold-induced madness that manifested in us humming the mad stone and bobbing up and down oompa loompa-style to keep warm for just. SO long. this bit would not cease.

we got in, and we weren’t Right at the front but we were close enough, and there was no barrier aside from the flightcases dumped on the ground, and i had to prepare myself for being waaay too close to jonathan higgs. which i WAS. i believe it was albie on here who said that if you’re in the first two rows at any of these shows you will end up making eye contact with this man, and yeah, that only gets truer if he already sorta knows who you are. EMBARRASSING.

it was a good show — not as rowdy and sweaty as liverpool, but what can you expect from a show at midday on a weekday, really. they played teletype at this one(!!! it’s not on my Playlist for nothing), and pizza boy, and i had a bottle of pepsi in my bag and turned to shallowtboy and took a big swig of it at the right moment because really i come to these gigs to have my own incomprehensible kind of fun with my best friend, and it was Funny. only then in the next chorus jon sang “you are afraid / that you’re a pepsi boy” which i did not really register until After, when shallowtboy pointed it out, and i had to contend with the fact jonathan higgs may well have seen me drinking my pepsi (i was about six feet away from him, he probably did,) and decided to make a thing of it. good god. gender win 🤷‍♂️

after the show it was signing time and we all verrry slowly shuffled out into a sort of queue. i took a photo of alex’s pedalboard on the way out, and said “i don’t know why i’m doing this, it’s not as if i know what any of these do”, and their guitar tech (who i have been mentally referring to as Clayton for various reasons, but i believe is actually called joe) overheard and went “neither do i, hah” and then i started chatting to him about what a shame it was that alex didn’t bring his little modular setup on tour this time round, and he told me all about pete’s ableton routing, and it was VERY FUN thank you claytonjoe for engaging with me. pls don’t find out i’m a massive gear poser.

SPEAKING OF— actual signing time. my rubiks cube was in my bag and i was NOT going to leave without it being signed. i managed to somehow barely interact with jon (cursing myself forever that i did not get to ask about the pepsi incident) but they all seemed fairly unsurprised by being asked to sign a rubiks cube, and all wrote their signatures very neatly in one of the little squares, minus jeremy for some reason. and Then.

i was wearing this shirt with the names of two modular synth brands smushed together, based on ONE decade-old post from this one forum that i had decided was the funniest thing in the world, yet another incomprehensible bit i am doing with myself, really, only turns out it’s the modular synth brands alex robertshaw uses the most. it came up on that podcast he did the other day. it was a real “oh for fucks sake” moment. so i showed him my shirt, and told him as much, and i expected there to be QUESTIONS about why the hell this shirt would exist, but he just thought it was great. (jeremy also approved, and said he saw me wearing it in liverpool. i did not interact with jeremy in liverpool. i was not even standing NEAR jeremy in liverpool.) alex then asked if he could take a photo to send to the guy he did the podcast with. YEAH OKAY SURE WHY WOULDN’T THIS NONSENSE BE HAPPENING TO ME. but he didn’t have his phone with him, i guess?? so he had to borrow mike’s phone???? so there’s a picture of me on mike spearman’s phone, i guess. hope the synth podcast guy did see it in the end.

writing this all out really does make it sound about twenty times more bizarre than it felt at the time. i love this ridiculous weirdo band. /\

#everything everything #c vs the band #what the HELL #not included in this writeup: much extraneous gushing about how hot they all are #but do know that i’m thinking it #also. if you have managed to connect Tumblr User Hellkitepriest with any real people on any other social media sites or irl: no you havent #you don’t know me i don’t exist #standard rules

[propheticpanickingnerd]

The Bat's Body Proportions but said in the most unflattering way possible

Bruce - Tall as a brick, built like a brick, flat on all sides but somehow still does shit. No flexibility at all and will get arthritis no matter what. Starts complaining about back pain in his 20s. Dislocated so many joints so many times most of them are metal.

Dick - Huge ass, minimum tits possible. He has pecs ofc he is a trained and practicing athlete, he however does not have the genes for big, he has the genes for flexible. If he had huge tits his shoulders would not survive and he needs those. Grows out hair to wide his inexistent back muscles, well he has them but its not that noticeable. Again, not born to get a bodybuilder body.

Jason - Also built like a brickhouse but he actually cares about movement and flexibility. He doesnt have much but he practices it and it is actually a really healthy practice. Huge tits. No ass. Flatest ass in the world. His pecs are huge though. He builds muscle and it shows.

Cass - Exactly like a ballerina body. Seems to have no muscles, every single muscle to her eyelids is stronger than an olympic athlete. Does not look like it but she outruns cars on the occasion. Can do unimaginable feats of strength in the most complicated outfits. She doesnt though, comfy outfits for the win.

Tim - Built like a victorian sickly child. For most of his life. He does grow at like 25 or something, i can see a shape like the flashes. Lean but definitely muscly. No tits and no ass he's still flat sorry. Continues looking like a sick victorian though, no longer a child.

Steph - You know those wrestling buff women? Thats her. She builds a lot of muscle, which she didnt know for a long time because her dad is a twink and her mother didn't work out as much as her. Somewhere between them she got the genes to grow a lot of muscles.

Damian - I cannot see him as nothing but a child but if Jon is aged up so is he. Let me cook. Definitely Bruce's jaw and general build, but he gets a lot from Talia and Ra's. Less broad shoulders, but big arms, his shape is like Bruce but if you squeezed his shoulders a bit together. Making it a lot of even. No he does not have a snatched waist, im sorry, your batman babygirl is still unbelievably flat and so is his son. Definitely has the flexibility, less than Dick but a lot more than Jason.

Duke - He has the arms of an olympic thrower or whatever those are called. Out of everyone i feel like he has the biggest arms, he however is a bit shittier at running but you know what he can just get a ride on someone idk. But thats just right now, he eventually will learn not to skip leg day. He hits hard though. Green lantern knows that, lmao get drop kicked. He's really good at the grappling bit though, he wasn't at first but boy does he fly.

Honourable mentions:

Alfred - you never know what a suit can hide

Barbara - she can lift Dick up

Helena - wrestling woman

Kate - military woman

Selina - you cannot even think she has muscles, you're wrong though

Luke - bitch baby with a tech suit, got sloppy ( not biased ) all /j i love him i know hes like a boxer or something

#batman #tim drake #jason todd #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #batgirl #black bat #steph spoiler #steph brown #cassandra cain #batman dc #comics #thoughts

[leohnoz]

Random Dump 5 ft. Wips

explanations for the drawings under the cut cause i feel like it (very long under there yer warned)

lotta these are from my old tablet

1st- The song "Sleep" by MCR, with Celeste. From an older version of the "Of Heaven and Mortal" story, where Polaris leaves on purpose and Celeste's pissed about it. Bonus points that Celeste is a dream god!

2nd- Designing every single warrior cat (tm). May get back to this may not. I used a base, to which i have no idea who made it or where i got it from, since its from my old tablet (which is like 7? 8? years old at this point)

3rd- Cold Island Theme from My Singing Monsters, ft. Celeste (the constellation), Strawberry (pink dragon bleeding), and Quetz (wind god, at the bottom protecting strawberry). Later in the "Of Heaven and Mortal"/"Of All and None" storyline, where Celeste drives Strawberry insane. ;)

4th- Random concept doodle, from "Of Sea and Gale", supposed to be a close friend of Samuel's when he lived in the Wind Kingdoms royal palace. The friend had a masssssive crush, as ya do, but nothing comes of it

5th- "Animal" by *repeat repeat. Tord (red cat) manipulating Tom (grey/brown cat) into killing Edd (green outlines...). Forget what the motive was but Tord is de-clawed, and hey, cool poses. And gayness. Always a win.

6th- Another random doodle, made when i was watching demon slayer (specifically the Mount Natagumo Arc). Extravagant for no reason. Just the way i like it.

7th- "Love, Love, Love" by Of Monsters and Men. Ft Marquis (white one) and Holly (purple one). Among us ocs turned furry! Who'da thought. Marquis wants to show Holly all the love in the world but she isn't ready. (Their refs are in this post, if any of you remember)

8th- Was supposed to be a companion peice to Mushroom. "Chicken", as i delightfully call him, was gonna be a sort of opposite/complementary cat to Mushroom, a right-hand man of sorts. Why Chicken? Cause mushrooms taste like chicken. Anyway,

9th- "Grapes" by James Marriott. Tom was supposed to be in this peice, saying the line "I fell for someone new, but she's just another girl that looks like you!", buuuut i could never get how he looks right. So now its just Tord who looks like a spider just jumped out at him.

10th- This meme. But with TomTord. And Jon. Because i cannot help myself. Not Jons final design for the AU, but hey, good first attempt :). Tord and Jon are friends in the AU!

11th- SNOWTUFT!! HIM!! DA BOY!! I just wanted to draw him, honest. Ig some design notes/headcannons, his claws aren't naturally long- he just underuses em, so they're overgrown. He cant really see out of the scarred eye and ear, an perfers to keep his eye closed. Very expressive lil man. Yowls for attention

#my art #art #ocs #doodles #dragon oc #dragon #dragon original character #warrior cats #of all and none #avian tord #of heaven and mortal #Of sea and gale #monster tom #monster jon #eddsworld fanart #eddsworld #tomtord #eddsworld tomtord #eddsworld tom #eddsworld tord #snowtuft #firestar #nutmeg #tw blood #wip #art wip #alternate universe #scourge #crystal #warrior cats fanart

[cashiew]

Woke up to the news of the cancellation this morning and have spent the day trying to swallow it. I was so looking forward to seeing our girls again and have my fingers crossed that we can see another miracle.

But for now, I offer the gretson playlist I made last year. It follows the spiritual beats of their story, circling themes of flight, making a mark, and finding your way home.

--

Seven - Sleeping At Last So I look to the future, and I book another fight / When everything feels heavy, I’ve learned to travel light

More to Give - Isabel Pless I keep burning my own bridge whether I lose or win / I’ll always wish I had more to give

if i were a friend - BLU EYES If I wasn't in my head / I could help me settle down / Make all of this make sense / Cuz it doesn't right now

Why Am I Like This? - Orla Gartland Oh, it's like I'm looking down from the ceiling above / Never in the moment, never giving enough

One - Sleeping At Last The list goes on forever / Of all the ways I could be better, in my mind / As if I could earn God's favor given time / Or at least congratulations

Twenty Something - Bre Kennedy Had my first kiss at the corner bar / Fell in love with a stranger in the dark

Everything Has Changed - Alex G, Jon D 'Cause all I know is we said, "Hello" / And your eyes look like comin' home / All I know is a simple name / And everything has changed

Apple Pie - Lizzy McAlpine I found you under an April sky / And you feel like / City life, apple pie baked just right / Home is wherever you are tonight

Ordinary Love - Nick Wilson Just for once / I want ordinary, ordinary love / No smoking gun

Maybe - Duce Williams Maybe, we should hope against the odds / Maybe, fate will place our cause

if i built my home from paper - Lexie Carroll Cause I may be getting older / But maybe I'm still scared / It's a trouble living in this world / But it's home when you are there

Magnificent - Oh Wonder  In the sticky summer heat, I got grass stains on me knees / And I'm infinite / Couple lovers running free, eyes are looking straight at me / And I'm into it

hate to be lame - Lizzy McAlpine, FINNEAS If I love him, if I need him / Maybe that will make him stay / If I lie, will I still feel this way?

counting houses - Luz Let them cast their doubt / We can live without /All their thoughts around

If I Didn’t Love You - Ben Abraham How do you do it? You've got me in it and I can't explain / How you turn me with the fury of a hurricane

Walk Above the City - The Paper Kites, MARO Flowers underneath us now / Towers underneath us now / We walk above the city / You and I

Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy) - The 1975 And told her, "Some things have their time / How can I be yours if you're not mine?"

Talking to Myself (Stripped) - Gatlin What if I play pretend / You're holding me again / We're laughing in my head

Another Round - Elina Time always froze when I pulled you close / And we were fine, mhmm / I swear I would give anything for another round

please - Chelsea Cutler, Jeremy Zucker Please don't leave me here / I don't know where my heart is

Leave Your Lover - Sam Smith You'll never know the endless nights, the rhyming of the rain /Or how it feels to fall behind and watch you call his name

Alone with You - Canyon City It's not anything you say, anywhere we go / It's just being alone with you now

I Found You - Kina Grannis, Imaginary Future A sudden gust of wind /From nowhere, we begin / It's like I dreamed you up while I was sleeping

Last Time - Adam Melchor I'm takin' a picture of this in the back of my mind / ‘Cause every time I go I'm scared it's gonna be the last time

Give & Take - John Marc Oh there's a give and take in falling in love / You make it easier than I ever thought

#spotify #playlist #a league of their own #aloto #gretson #carson shaw #greta gill

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #73: Game of Thrones, but make it Lancelot

As anyone can tell you, I have a terrible weakness for female Jon Snow fics, largely because a female heir to the throne allows you to combine claims and explore facets of Westeros in a way that can't be easily done with rival male claimants. And then I thought: if I can have an Anne Boleyn, why not a Lancelot?

Or: What if Jon Snow, the most famed knight of his generation, had an affair with the Queen of Westeros?

Aka: The Lord Protector Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything follows canon, except Cersei Lannister dies in childbirth with her second child, Myrcella. This bothers her husband not at all and, despite Jon Arryn's urging him to remarry to secure his throne, Robert works his way through a series of brothels and mistresses before being forced to marry 14-year-old Margaery Tyrell in 297 in exchange for House Tyrell paying off some of his debts.

When Jon Arryn dies the following year, Robert and his court head north as per canon. While there, Sir Barristan takes interest in young Jon Snow - perhaps he sees something of Rhaegar in the boy, maybe he imagines he sees something of his presumed uncle Arthur Dayne's talent in him - and offers to raise him to knighthood with the aim of one day serving in the Kingsguard.

Ned is unable to turn down the offer, and reluctantly allows Jon to accompany them to King's Landing.

Jon quickly gains a reputation for gallantry and chivalry to rival either Barristan the Bold or Arthur Dayne - he intervenes when Joffrey tries to have Lady put down, makes a strong showing in the Hand's Tourney, and preforms several small acts of standing up for ladies/smallfolk/children that are quickly mythologized. Within two years he's knighted, with some asking if he will be allowed to take up the Sword of Morning as a presumed bastard of House Dayne.

Princess Myrcella is particularly taken with him after he defends her from Joffrey and demands he become her sworn sword until a position opens up in the Kingsguard.

His actions also draw the attention of Queen Margaery, who is even less happy in her position as queen than Cersei was but much better at hiding it. At first it's just friendship couched in a courtly love tradition, but by 299 they're lovers. When she gives birth to Prince Harlen a year later there's no doubt in her mind that Jon is the father.

Meanwhile, King Robert is almost as taken with Jon as his wife and daughter, for here is a version of Ned Stark who is also knightly, willing to take part in tourneys and feasts and dancing, and cannot help but see Jon as the son he never got to have with Lyanna. Instead of allowing Jon to take a position the Kingsguard as they open up, he showers Jon with riches and titles.

After winning a huge purse at the tourney in honor of Prince Harlen's second birthday - and Queen Margaery's second pregnancy - Jon is named Lord Cargyll, taking up the name and lands of the extinct Crownlands house of the same name, changing the golden goose in their banners to a golden direwolf.

After a falling out with Renly a year later, Jon is named Master of Laws...

...and six months later Robert's vices finally catch up with him, infamously being found dead in brothel of particularly ill-repute following an orgy.

Joffrey, now 17, is still very much his mother's son. One of his first acts on being named king is to declare his father's second marriage invalid and his half-siblings, Prince Harlen and Princess Lenna, bastards. His second act is to declare most of his father's Kingsguard and small council traitors for allowing his father to be "lured" to the brothel where he was "assassinated by Targaryen loyalists."

This naturally goes down badly, and though some of the lords named are captured and executed - Ned Stark, Petyr Balish, and Grand Maester Pycelle among them - most manage to escape. Jon in particular is able to get Margaery and the royal children to his lands in the Crownlands, and start raising a rebellion in Prince Harlen's name.

Robb ends up leading an army south to avenge his father, as per canon, but is never named King in the North. He does win several key victories against Tywin Lannister in the west, eventually taking Tywin himself captive. His victories earn him the nickname the Hammer of the West, a la Edward I.

Jon leads the fighting against the Lannister forces in the east, eventually taking King's Landing. The fact that he's able to keep his army from sacking the city and offers Joffrey the chance to take the black earns him the nickname Jon the Just. (Joffrey naturally refuses, tries to attack Jon in a rage, and is very swiftly killed in self-defense.)

In the aftermath, 4-year-old Harlen is crowned king. His mother Margaery is named Queen Regent, with Jon being asked to serve as Lord Protector of the Realm instead of taking one of the open spaces in the Kingsguard. He agrees, and two years later weds Margaery in a ceremony forever known as the Rose Wedding. (It's not as flash as the Golden Wedding, but is still something else.)

Meanwhile, Tywin is sent into exile for his part in abetting Joffrey's actions, with Tyrion taking over as Lord of the Rock. He and Sansa eventually wed and, though their marriage is never one of love, both are are content with their choice.

Robb marries Myrcella. Theirs does end up being a love match, becoming taken with each other when they first meet in the aftermath of Harlen's Rebellion. After their marriage they seem to make it their effort to make up for all of House Stark's losses, eventually having eleven children live to adulthood and marry into various important houses. By their deaths they're known as the Grandparents of Westeros.

Jon goes to his grave thinking he is Ned Stark's son, not knowing he's inadvertently brought about a Targaryen restoration.

Bonuses include: 1) the full force of angst and drama being brought to bear on Jon and Margaery's relationship, from its start as a mutual crush when they first come to each other's attention on the journey from Winterfell until they finally marry in 306. This should include Jon's desire never to father a bastard, Margaery's awareness that infidelity in a queen is treason, and their inability to keep away from each other. Extra bonus points if Margaery is able to pass Harlan and Lenna off as Robert's even to Jon, and not admit the truth until many years later; 2) every possible Camelot illusion that can be made to King Robert's court, made with the full knowledge that the beauty and glamor and chivalry of both courts is just smoke and mirrors, and one doesn't have to go looking very hard to find the gritty, painful, ugly reality beneath; 3) Jon using his time as Lord Protector to force through something like the Magna Carta, which enshrines basic rights that even kings must follow far more than the RL document actually did; and 4) Sansa having a prominent B-plot, slowly realizing during her time at court that not everything can be a song. The turning point of this is not Ned's execution, but her discovery of Jon and Margaery's affair years before - and her active choice to cover for them so that someone at least gets their happy ending.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this plot bunny, just link back to me if you do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aelor the Accursed | Aegon the Adopted | Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Bastard of Winterfell | Daemon the Destroyer | Daena the Dreamer | Daeron the Desired | Dyanna the Defiant | Elia the Magnificent | Jon the Fair | Jon Whitefyre | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Lord Protector | Maekar the Maester | People's Queen | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Queen of Nightingales | Red Queen | Rhaegar the Righteous | River Queen | Shiera Snowbird | Visneya the Victorious | Weirwood Queen | Wolf Queen

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #jon snow #jon snow is a targaryen #secret affair #chivalry #courtly love #robert baratheon #margaery tyrell #Jon x margaery #targaryen restoration

[jackhues]

Hiii and congrats on 1000 followers!! Can I request 🤍 for buttercup/peanut meeting Bedard for the first time? I think it would be funny either way because bee's not super happy with the comparisons with her dad, while peanut probably doesn't even understand who he is

thank youu <33 haha, here's a short blurb on both of the meetings

buttercup:

the stadium groaned in unison as the horn sounded to signal the end of the game. buttercup, along with the other fans, took a moment to clap and cheer on the boys as they left the ice.

plastering a smile on her face, she made her way out of the stands and through the halls reserved for players and family.

"you played a hell of a game out there," she gave tristan jarry, the pend goaltender, a hug.

he nodded half-heartedly, patting the top of bee's head fondly as he moved towards the locker room.

bee smiled sadly after him, always sad to see the goaltenders sad after losing a game.

sid shoved his glove in his daughter's face as he walked by, trying to get her to cheer up a little. bee made a face, swatting his sweaty glove, but giving him a hug.

"i saw your goal," she said. "you're lucky. i just got back from getting some candy. if you were any earlier, i would've been upset that i missed it."

sid laughed, "oh it's my fault you miss seeing the goal?"

"obviously," she answered.

"oh get outta here," he shoved his glove near her face again.

"you can't talk to your child, your own flesh and blood, like that," she called after him, waiting in the hallway as he continued making his way to the locker room.

whenever she watched the game, she had a habit of staying in the hallway until the last penguins player left, and then heading over to wait for her dad finishing up his media.

like always, sid went ahead to get a head start so they could go home and bee would be ready for school the next day, while she congratulated all the pens players on their game.

"your russian's getting weak!" geno called as the two of them finished a half-english-half-russian conversation.

"not my fault!" bee called back.

she craned her head to see if there were any more pens players coming out of the tunnel, freezing as she saw a different jersey.

before she knew what was happening, the blackhawks team made their way past her, too lost in their own huddles and the adrenaline of winning to care about a little girl in a penguins hoodie standing at the sidelines.

bee froze, wide eyed, as players she only knew from watching the game, made their way past her in real life.

they stopped near the hallway before heading to the locker room, huddling up with their teammates and congratulating each other on plays. everywhere bee looked, there was a blackhawks jersey.

"you okay?"

bee looked up at nick foligno, a veteran hockey player now playing with the blackhawks.

"i'm good," she answered, though she wasn't sure how convinced he was.

"are you lost or something? need help?" another person asked.

bee looked at connor bedard, the rookie sensation. she raised a brow.

she expected him to be taller.

"bee?" jon, the equipment manager, called out from the front of the room. "c'mon, your dad's done media for the day. he's waiting in the second hallway."

"i'm coming," bee said, making her way towards him.

behind her, most of the players were now trickling into the locker room, still excited over the win. but she could hear some players whisper "oh, that's sidney crosby's kid!"

she was pretty sure one of those whispers belonged to connor bedard.

-

peanut:

"peanut, where are you even going?" mama sighed, following her kid.

peanut had been adamant on seeing her dad and saying hi to him, and then saying hi to mitchy, and then saying hi to everyone else on the team. now, she was refusing to get back to her seat in the stands.

"you want me to watch her for a while?" jennifer, one of the media coordinators for the leafs, asked. "we're just gonna be here for twenty minutes or so to film chicago's entry."

"fun!" peanut clapped her hands, taking a seat on the floor.

mama made a face, "well, i guess i'll stay here with you guys."

jennifer laughed, setting up the cameras to get some shots ready. soon enough, a trickle of chicago blackhawks players made their way through the hall, some stopped by peanut wanting to claim the hallway to do tricks instead.

"mama, watch me," peanut said suddenly jumping up and blocking connor bedard's path. she looked up at him, "you need to move backwards. i wanna show my mama a trick."

"oh dear god, why is she like this?" mama muttered to herself, embarrassed.

jennifer tried her best to hide her laughter, recording the trick peanut wanted to show mama.

after doing three (partial) cartwheels, peanut threw her hands in the air and grinned. "ta-da!!"

mama, jennifer, and connor clapped dutifully as peanut ran back to sit on the floor.

"that was great," connor grinned, giving the little girl a high five before moving past.

"sorry about her," mama chuckled. "she's at the age where she thinks she's the most important person in the world, and her dad's coddling doesn't help that."

connor shook it off, "no worries. i'd actually have been disappointed if i missed that. she's a cute kid."

"thanks, i made her."

#naqia's 1k celly! #naqia writes! #buttercup's world! au #peanut's world! au #naqia's au's! #dad! sidney crosby #dad! auston matthews

[racerchix21]

Saw you were asking for ficlet ideas. Can you do Mox/Matt Jackson established relationship taking care of each other after Blood &Guts? Thanks and congratulations on the followers!

Title: Hold Still or I Swear!

Relationship: Jon Moxley/Matt Jackson

Warnings: Talk of blood (like lots of it), some swearing

A/N: This is probably super out of character for both Mox and Matt but we’re just gonna ignore that 🤣🙃

Summary: They just had one of the most intense Blood and Guts matches in company history but now it’s time to walk away from their ring personas and just be Jonathan and Matthew, boyfriends.

Work Text:

Matt waits just inside the tunnel for his boyfriend to come stumbling back with his teammates. He knows he should still be on a post match win high but he honestly just wants to go back to his hotel, shower and curl up with Jon. He’s tired and ready to shed the Matt Jackson wrestler persona and just be Matthew, Jon’s pretty boy.

He can feel blood drying across his body and he’s still got thumbtacks stuck in places there shouldn’t be thumbtacks. When he sees the way Yuta is limping and leaning against Jon and Claudio he feels guilty and glancing at Hanger and Nick he can tell they feel just as bad about the way they choked Wheeler out.

He knows it was expected given the match stipulations but it’s still a sobering reminder of how insanely violent they got and how badly it could’ve ended if any of them had made even the tiniest bobble. When Jon drops an arm around his shoulders, he lets himself melt into his man’s arms.

“Matty, baby what’s with the long face? Huh what’s got ya looking like a kicked puppy,” Jon asks after he hands Yuta off to one of the medical staff. “If you’re worried about Yoots he’ll be fine I’m sure of it and if you want to we can go check in with him after we get ourselves cleaned up, okay?”

“He looks rough and I feel bad about the way the match ended. All I can think is what would’ve happened if we’d made a mistake or we’d pulled a little too hard and he’d gotten been really really hurt,” Matt knows he’s rambling but he can’t help it there’s just something about Jon caring about him that much that seems to make his brain to mouth filter fail to work. Even though they’ve been dating for almost 5 years he’s shocked that Jon can read him so easily.

“Let’s go clean up and get these thumbtacks out and we go check on Wheeler then I vote we go back to the hotel and cuddle. Maybe we do a little more than that if you’re up for it,” Jon growls in his ear before nibbling on his jaw. He’s quick to press a kiss to Matt’s lips as he feels him squirm. “Matthew, I suggest you stop making those noises or we aren’t gonna make it back to the hotel.”

“Make me Jonathan. But seriously do you have tacks in places tacks shouldn’t be allowed to be too? Alright let’s go but first,” Matt tells him before pulling him back down for another bloody kiss. “I wanna go kick Takeshita and PAC’s asses sometime for betraying you guys but I won’t because I know you and your boys deserve the pleasure. Just promise to punch Callis in the face for me, please?”

“Of course Matty. I’m little aggravated at all of them but last thing I wanna do right now is pay them anymore attention than I need to. Besides Kenny deserves to be the one to knock his dumbass out,” Jon says as he leads Matt back to their locker room. He congratulates Nick and Hanger as they walk past and ignores the wolf whistles and catcalls from Kenny and Kota who only stop making out long enough to leer at them.

Getting Matt shoved down on the couch, he starts trying to gently wipe blood off while taking stock of all the places that make Matt squirm. “Dammit Jackson hold still or I swear.”

“Or you swear what? Hmm what are you gonna do, baby?”

“I’ll pin you down and I’ll stop being gentle,” Jon half heartedly threatens but he knows it’s lost when Matt bucks up and starts laughing. “Now seriously hold still so I can get these things out of your skin faster. I’m trying to be quick about it so you’re out of pain faster. The faster we get these removed the faster we can go get clean and I can get you back to the hotel and get you all dirty again.”

“Hmm, okay Moxley, but you have to let me play doctor for you. Cuz the prospect of getting to take care of you is 100 kinds of-“ he’s cut off by a scandalized shriek and the sound of the door slamming shut behind Nick and Adam.

“Let’s finish up and get going before we traumatize your brother and Hanger further. But I mean we could also take our time make them find their own place to hookup,” Mox says wriggling his eyebrows at Matt causing his boyfriend to laugh again.

“You got yourself a deal Jonathan. It’d serve’em right making us listen to them make out over breakfast this morning.”

“Matty you wouldn’t have had to if you’d just stayed in bed like I wanted to this morning and we’d just ordered room service. But no you wanted to go be social and stuff and you, you used those damn bambi eyes to make me. You’re lucky I think your a cutie baby boy.”

#These 2 are a blast to write as a couple #MoxMatt ficlet #Matt Jackson #Jon Moxley #stardust181

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 166 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: cutting the Kolkwitzia amabilis in my garden.

MARTIN: "What happened back there? What you did to Sa–" [HE CUTS HIMSELF OFF.] [A PAUSE.] JON: "Go on. Say it." Oh no. Oh god, does Jon think that Martin thinks it was his fault that Sasha died?

HELEN: "Oh, goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, John? He’s coming to me for clear answers." Oh Helen really knows how to get under one's skin.

HELEN: (giggle) "It’s very satisfying though, isn’t it? Teasing out vague information? You see why Elias got a kick out of it." Oh fuuuck, and now she's comparing him to Elias? Jon really is straight up not having a good time..

TMA usually is super vague, but I'm actually happy we got an explanation how the smiting works. Does sound plausible, I’d say. But also, this explanation about there only being watcher and watched should have got Martin's gears to turn. They are not victims of a domain. So they have to be watchers.

MARTIN: "Sure. Okay, that’s – I mean, that’s really not that complicated, John; I don’t see why you were being so coy about it –" JON: (overlapping) "Because I’m ashamed, Martin." [SLIGHT PAUSE.] MARTIN: "Ashamed?!" JON: "Yes! Ashamed of the fact that I just – destroyed the world and have been rewarded for it, the fact that – I can walk safe through all this horror I’ve created like a… fucking tourist, destroying whoever I please. The fact that I… enjoyed it, and… the fact that there are so many others that I want to revenge myself on!" Why does everything in TMA feel so natural!! There is so much bad and boring writing out there, every time something very logical happens it makes me super excited xD  So yap. It's super understandable that he's ashamed of all of this. Especially since we know how he actually feels about this revenging stuff. His anger says “do it!”, but his logic says “It’s not gonna do anything”..

MARTIN: "…No; No, I actually think you’re good on that front." JON: "What?" MARTIN: "Yeah, I, I, I think we should go for it, get our murder on!" Martin, when he only remotely tastes power xD

MARTIN: "f you want to stop them and have the power to, then – then, then yeah, let’s do it, let’s go full Kill Bill!" JON: "I – I, I haven’t seen it." Laughed so hard at this xD Of course he is deflecting.

HELEN: "Oh, Martin, I am so proud of you. Can I come?" JON & MARTIN: (in unison) "No." HELEN: "So that’s a strong “maybe” then?" Asgdsdfjkdf, Helen can also be so funny! One of those characters I hate and love!

MARTIN: "Do you need anything?" [JON EXHALES.] JON: "No." Love that Martin checks in with him there. He has been a bit dismissive of Jon's feelings about this whole situation.

Yeah, that statement does nothing to me, neither terror nor excitement. As far as I understand it, it's more about the financial part of the Buried. About the pressure of the society we live in, ever trapped in bullshit jobs with only ever a glint of the prospect of escape and there is no use in fighting others like us (that second worm part) cause if we win against them, we’re stuck exactly where we were before.

"The rains fall here as they do so many places in this new world. Thick and oily drops that taste of bitter salt, torrential tears plummeting from the watching sky, thumping and squelching onto the thirsty soil in which the worms writhe painfully towards a surface that does not want them." That is a gross image!

"How do you fight, when you cannot move beyond the slowest inching crawl, without limbs or weapons or the kinetic force of violence? You do it slowly, pressing, biting, tearing gradually through each other until at the very end, one of you is still." There is a very horrifying animatic of this part of the statement, it's called "The Worms (Magnus Archives Fan Animation)”.

JON: "God, I hate the Buried." Mh, he was there once...

That phone's got to be a Nokia 3310, right? XD It is the Nokia ringtone after all!

ANNABELLE: "He’s more powerful here than he’s ever been, isn’t he? And you’re not sure what that means for you." [THE BRIEFEST OF PAUSES. MARTIN INHALES SHAKILY.] MARTIN: "I’m hanging up now." ANNABELLE: "Does he even need you at all?" That part about "you're not sure what that means for you" is actually something I could relate to. Especially in a relationship this young and under extremely high stress levels. Shared trauma and being in the same life-threatening situation can create incredibly strong bonds. Being in that same boat. But how life-threatening is it actually for them? Aside from his guilt and post trauma, Jon is very much fine in this new world. Still, not sure what Annabelle wanted to achieve with this, she does mention it to have been "clumsy", so yeah.

[THE PREVIOUSLY-HOWLING THINGS IN THE BURIED – LIKELY THE WORMS FAR BELOW – HOWL AGAIN, INSISTENTLY.] MARTIN: "I know, right?" Adflkdhfs, this episode has some great comedy!

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 166 #tma #tma spoilers

[f1-birb]

Can we get more baby Lando pretty pleaaaase? 🥹

"I can do it!"

Jenson bites his lip, trying his best to keep the laughter inside, but judging by his son's almost baleful glare he isn't doing a good job.

"I know you can Lanno, but you must be tired after all the excitement and celebrating, let me or Papa hold it?"

"No, I got it! I won it so I can carry it!"

Sebastian turns away, unable to hide his grin as Lando continues to struggle with the trophy that he knows weighs more than his son does. It's almost the same height as the pup, and Seb's convinced they could crack the top off of it and carry Lando inside it if they wanted to.

"How about this," Jon carefully interrupts as they stop for the seventh time in half as many minutes, "I carry it because I never got to win a trophy as big as this, and you can walk with your dads?"

Lando pauses, resting the trophy on the ground while he thinks, before finally nodding and letting Jon pick up the cup easily.

"Okay. But only because I want you to be proud of all your helping me. You won too, Jon."

Seb thinks his heart must have melted, it's the only explanation he has for how warm his chest feels, and when he looks at Jenson he knows his Mate must feel the same. They both politely ignore the new sheen coating Jon's eyes.

"Thanks, mate."

Lando beams up at him, all sunshine again after all his pouting, and Seb gently tugs on his pup's hand to keep them moving so Jon can take the minute he clearly needs. He knows this isn't the first time, and it likely won't be the last, that Lando's taken someone by surprise with how easy he throws out thoughtful comments.

Lando goes from grinning to squealing as Jenson breaks the atmosphere by swooping him into his arms, throwing him up to sit on his shoulder. Seb instinctively moves closer, keeping a hand on Lando's leg for stability.

"I think this calls for pizza and ice cream." Jenson says, winking over at Jon, "If the nutrition plan allows, of course."

Jon rolls his eyes, catching up to them in a few long strides, "I think it can bend the rules just this once. It's not everyday you win a championship."

Lando cheers, almost toppling backwards even as he slaps a hand against his dad's forehead to stay upright, and Sebastian ignores the way his heart flips in his chest. Instead, he gently coaxes Lando down, and he sees the way Jenson's smile mirrors his own when Lando holds both of their hands, despite their boy's usual claims of being too old for it.

#sebson driver dads au #my little love #sebson #seb/jenson #and jon features!! #birb writes