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remakethestars · 3 years

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Being Damian Wayne's Twin Sister Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Exactly. I don't ask my dog to drive, and I don't ask the Justice League to solve my problems.❞

— Damian Wayne, Adventures of the Super Sons #9: Showdown on Hexworld

TRIGGER WARNING: Cursing, (Damian’s) death. Mentions of toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny, nightmares, blood, knives.

Headcanon masterlist.

When people ask you, “So, which one of you is the evil twin?” Damian always glowers, and you always motion to him.

You look disturbingly alike when only your eyes are showing; Damian’s got long lashes. Talia taught you a good tactic for tag-teaming in combat as kids was to pull up your hinged balaclavas and make the enemy think there was only one of you, that they’re seeing double.

Or for one of you to hang back while the other attacks as a distraction before the other knocks them out from behind.

Obviously, this won’t work when the two of you start filling out, but it works when you’re kids. It’s the reason why, even off the field, the two of you usually wear a matching outfits with hoods.

You utilize the same methods when she sends you to live with Bruce.

You don the Robin costume just like he does, much to the rest of the Batfam’s confusion (both because they weren’t expecting it and because they can’t tell you apart either), but sticking with the “red” theme, you go by Redstart.

There’s a rumor on the street that Robin V. is a meta that can teleport.

The two of you are freakishly good at mimicking the other’s voice and mannerisms, which makes it even harder for your family.

Jason tells you two about April Fools Day, and you make the most of it. Of course, Damian’s a pain in the a$$ and decides to go around pretending to be you and getting into trouble. You’re banned from the mall, and you still have no idea why.

The two of you can communicate with just an impassive expression (Dick says it looks like a prime example of twin telepathy to anyone else), but anyone close to you knows sh¡t’s about to hit the fan when the two of you look at each other and smirk.

If it’s something you can’t communicate nonverbally, you use your cryptophasia.

Cryptophasia is a language developed by twins when they’re learning to talk. Most of them grow out of it, you and Damian decided to keep developing it so it became more of a conlang. No one else has been taught to speak it, and they never will be. It’s for emergencies only.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was your Bible growing up, and the two of you call out verses when you fight together and need the other to understand a tactic (you both inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory, so you’ve got it memorized).

When you get too big to pull off the which-is-which game, you make your own costume and become the true Redstart.

It’s basically Damian’s Robin uniform (the Super Sons’s version is the only one I’ll accept), but the boots and gloves are black, the biceps have a white stripe, the lining of the cape is white (the lining of the hood is black), the gold accents become white, it has a zipper down the front instead of clasps, and the mask becomes black (including the eyes). The waterline of the eyes is white. Like a painted redstart.

If Damian’s into animals, you’re into plants. The two of you find common ground on the fact that pollution sucks, so when you walk Titus, you take a trash bag and gloves with you to pick up litter as you go.

You did not want to go to Jon’s school.

Not because you don’t like Jon (because you do), but because you know you could run intellectual circles around every one of those snot-nosed brats.

School is stupid. Especially because the American education system is subpar; everything about it is.

You hardly pay attention in class. You do all of the homework a week ahead of time incase something comes up. Usually you’re doing next week’s homework in class. You’ve written entire papers on your phone in Google Docs in the middle of class to be printed out later.

If you’ve already done everything, Damian’s usually drawing and you’re daydreaming or you’re working on a case on your phone.

The teachers are always trying to catch you not paying attention, but you little sh¡ts can always answer their questions.

Damian’s closest with Dick, but you’re closest with Tim. You admire his ability to plan ahead (see the entirety of the Red Robin comics), and you know that he’s better than both your father and your grandfather; you want to be as good as him when you grow up.

It takes a long time to wash the toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny our of your head, to learn that your grandfather’s ideas of “strength” were wrong, that it’s okay to lean on someone besides Damian, that you can be just as strong as your brother and still be feminine, that there are acceptable emotions besides anger.

Actually, your father teaches you that anger is more likely to get you killed. He won’t let you go into the field when he knows your angry.

It’s harder to drill out of you than your instinct to kill.

There’s a Lebanese restaurant called Tarbooshes (Teen Titans Special #1) the two of you go to when you’re feeling homesick. They make ox blood soup the same way your mother did, and it’s the only non-vegetarian thing Damian will eat for that very reason.

It’s nice to have a place to go where they know you by name and know what you want when you tell them “the usual.” It’s nice to have a place where you’re not a Wayne or an Al Ghul, where you’re just [Y/N] and Damian.

You disappear for an hour on your birthday to eat there. Bruce has asked you were you go, but you kept that between the two of you.

Speaking of birthdays, you’re eleven minutes older than him. He was six pounds and ten ounces (Batman & Robin #0?), and you were a solid seven.

After Damian died, you go to Tarbooshes to feel close to him.

You were doing all right with the no-killing thing until the night Damian died.

Heretic never stood a chance.

He looked so much like Damian it gave you nightmares, though. Nightmares where you killed your twin brother and woke up sobbing.

Damian didn’t give you a speech in his last moments. He just looked over at you and said in your cryptophasia, “I’m sorry.”

Not “I love you.” Not “Take care of them for me.” You knew that; you’d do that. He didn’t have to tell you, and he didn’t have to ask.

Just “I’m sorry.” Sorry that you were the one that was left behind.

It’s one thing to lose a family member, to lose a friend, or to lose a lover. It’s another to lose half of your soul.

The two of you had always feared you would die apart. It had always been a possibility; you weren’t stupid enough to think, “It’ll never happen to me.” Because it definitely could.

And it had.

You wanted to run away from everything. Even just for a while. Go to one of your safe houses in London or France or whatever and just — you didn’t know — stare at the wall until you felt better? But you’d made that unspoken promise to Damian — “I’ll take care of them for you; don’t worry.” — to take care of Titus and Catfred and Jerry and Batcow and Goliath, to take care of Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Jason and Cassandra and Tim, to take care of Jon and Colin and Maps.

You avoided the cave. And if you had to go down there for some reason, you refused to look at the Robin suits.

Dick noticed. He asked if you wanted them taken down, even just for a while. You gave him a look like he was nuts and said, “No.”

Jon was a mess. More of a mess than you were, somehow.

You’d shown up at the Kents’s. Jon was out doing Superboy things with Clark and Conner. Lois was the only one home.

You nearly scared her out of her skin when you materialized behind her and asked, “Is Jon home? It’s important.”

He had to know first. He deserved to.

For all he put up with from you two, he deserved to be the first to know when one of you was f*cking dead.

Lois, of course, bless her heart, had the mom instincts to know that you were in no way, shape, or form okay even when you were trying so hard to hold yourself together. She asked you what’s wrong, and it’s what made you break.

Your lip trembled. “He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Damian,” your voice broke. “He’s dead.”

Jon came home to find you in his living room in your Robin uniform, covered in Damian’s and Heretic’s blood, snot running down your lip, sobbing in his mothers arms and knew what happened without having to ask. He did anyway.

When you and Jon both finally passed out, your Uncle Clark flew you back to the Batcave. No one was in any condition — not even Alfred — so he carried you up to your room; took your boots, mask, cape, and gloves off; and tucked you in. Then he went to find Bruce because there was no doubt he was losing it too.

Bruce doesn’t tell you anything about trying to find a way to bring him back without the Lazarus pit because he doesn’t want to get your hopes up.

You walk into your room one day to find Damian sitting there reading the dissertation (the requirement was three pages, not 120, but your teacher would just have to deal with your coping mechanisms) you had been working on for your World History class and left up on your laptop while on patrol.

He said with the utmost indifference, “You’ve made some good points, Sister,” and, of course, you pulled out a knife and attacked him because this was — was — was some shapeshifting alien or hologram tech or a cruel joke — your twin was dead, this wasn’t funny, whoever did this was going to pay.

He met you blow-for-blow and flipped away from you before saying, “And here I was expecting a warm welcome,” in your cryptophasia.

“Brother?”

“Tt. Obviously.”

Yeah, a college level thesis. You’re smart. You inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory and were raised by assassins.

You learned seven languages and wrote five doctoral theses by the time your teeth came in, wrote your first letter to a newspaper editor when you were two, could’ve had a geology doctorate when you were seven (Super Sons #1), and it only took you a week to learn the language on Takron-Galtos. You’re smart.

You’re also incredibly skilled. You learned to drive when you were five (Super Sons #1), your mother trained you to go for weeks without eating (Adventures of the Super Sons #6), you can micro-sleep for days and converse with half your brain asleep, can use a muscular contraction to move your liver out of the way of a blade (Nightwing #20), and can place yourself in a deep trance to heal damages caused by a hematoma (also #20).

(My dumba$$ didn’t note what Super Sons/Adventure of the Super Sons comic I was reading when I took notes, so I don’t have all of them noted in the two above bullet points. But that’s where they’re from. If I end up rereading them, I’ll edit this and add the comic numbers.)

The first time on patrol you thought Bruce was gonna die, you called him Baba.

The next evening, when Dick came to visit the cave, he turned to you and Damian and asked, “So, which one of you called him Dad?”

“How’d you know?” you asked.

“He’s smiling the way he did the day I called him Tati.”

“He’s not smiling,” Damian pointed out.

“He is on the inside.”

Can we talk about how royally the Arkham Knights game screwed up Tim Drake? (Though, everything seems to screw up Tim one way or another, I guess.) Why does he look like a quidditch player in the gif above the cut?

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I’m a dumb white American, and I don’t know much about Arab or Romani culture other than what I’ve learned online. I hope I got it right?? If I didn’t, please drop a comment or P.M. me or something to let me know!

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artificialdaydreamer · 3 years

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A somewhat late fic for @jonsimsandcats day.

Jon is a god of cats whose cat followers report that a beast has taken up residence in the wood outside of town and is causing trouble. Jon, unable to say no to helping cats agrees to get rid of this beast only to run into Martin, who is also searching for it.

Warnings for mild injuries to animals and people

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Jon woke to find a pair of slitted eyes staring at him. It was not an unusual occurrence, he couldn’t go anywhere without the local cats greeting him, or letting him know of problems they were having. He was, after all, the god of cats. They were his followers and his messengers, and in return he gave them protection and knowledge. It was more unusual to not wake up with several cats sleeping on top of him. The tabby blinked slowly at Jon, he blinked back, and it settled on his lap, its fluffy tail swishing from side to side.

The building he’d fallen asleep in was technically a temple to him but humans rarely visited it so it had fallen into a state of disrepair. It was still a sanctuary for cats, they knew that within its walls they could be safe and warm while they slept, but the only other being that really came inside it was Jon. He tried to keep the fireplace lit in winter and set out bowls of fresh water, but there was only so much he could do. It wasn’t like he could fix the cracked windows and provide an unlimited supply of food, he just wasn’t that powerful.

The God of Cats and Curiosity was not a god people often prayed to, not until winter fell and mice invaded grain stores. Cat owners would occasionally set something on their mantle in offering to him, a saucer of milk or a piece of dried meat, but more often than not it was the cats themselves who honored him. He could understand what they said, and sometimes they were the only creatures he talked with for years. In a world where belief was what made a god strong it was a miracle he hadn’t faded away altogether.

“Hello, master,” a voice sounded inside Jon’s head as the cat purred. He stroked its ginger fur and it rubbed its head against his hand. “I have news from the others in town.”

“Oh?”

“They say a beast is lurking in the forest, it has already affected the supply of prey, and several cats who stumbled across it were wounded by it. If we cannot go hunt in the woods we won’t have enough food.” This was news to Jon, a beast in the forest? Not only was it killing animals it had hurt some of his followers, those he’d sworn to protect. His stomach churned at the thought of how they must have felt, had they prayed to him for help? Had he been too far away to hear them?

“Take me to them.” He started to get to his feet, the cat jumped off his lap as he straightened his clothes, making sure the hood of his blue cape covered his pointed ears completely. Despite being a god he couldn’t change his form, or hide the ears and tail that revealed what he was, so he relied on human clothes like skirts and hoods to disguise himself.

The tabby wound its way between his legs before heading towards the door, and Jon followed. The street was quiet, a few humans passed them but it seemed early enough in the day that a lot of them weren’t up. Turning down an alley he saw a pile of crates had been left in a niche and several cats had made themselves comfortable in it, there were even a few blankets and pillows. On one threadbare cushion lay a female tortoiseshell with cuts on her back, the wounds had scabbed over but dried blood streaked her fur and she couldn’t move without hurting.

“You poor thing.” Unwrapping the cloth belt from around his waist Jon dipped it into a dish of water someone had laid out nearby and began to dab at the cuts. The cat hissed, pupils narrowing into slits, but she didn’t scratch him. She knew who he was and what he was doing here. It took hardly any effort to soothe the tortoiseshell, to numb the pain as he cleaned her wounds. The last thing he wanted was to heal the cuts only to have her get sick because he hadn’t ensured they were dirt-free first.

“Thank you, master.” The tortoiseshell butted his hand with her head. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I apologize for letting you get hurt in the first place.”

“That was not your fault, master. You could not have known the beast would start lurking in the forest.” The cat shook her head, her tail sticking straight up. “The world is a dangerous place, you cannot be everywhere, even if you are a god.”

Sighing, Jon nodded, his own tail flicking from side to side in agitation. She was right, but it still hurt to know that he could not protect all of his followers from harm. Despite being a god he wasn’t very powerful, people just didn’t pray to him enough. He could look through the eyes of other cats nearby and bless them with safety for a limited time, but his power was finite. Anything more than a league away from him was hard to sense, although it hadn’t always been that way. “I’m looking for the beast, would you mind telling me where you encountered it?”

“I can show you.” Getting to her feet the tortoiseshell stretched deeply.

“Lead the way.”

—————

The forest was dense, trees crowded tight together and thick grasses that made it hard to maneuver, if it wasn’t for the narrow footpath made by other travelers Jon would be miserable. A short distance ahead of him the tortoiseshell cat led the way, showing no sign that her earlier injuries were still paining her. Every so often sunlight would find some way through the thick canopy of branches overhead and illuminate their surroundings, although they both could see in the dark just fine. Jon wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking, but when huge pawprints had been practically gouged in the path he insisted the cat ride on his shoulders for the rest of the journey.

“What kind of animal is this beast?” Jon muttered, ihe tracks were bigger than his hand, and while they appeared to be made by some kind of dog they were far larger than most he’d seen. As they progressed Jon saw several trees with claw marks on them and he started to feel anxious. Sure, he was technically a god, but he’d never really been in a fight before. He wouldn’t necessarily die, not from physical wounds, and he did heal faster than the normal human but that didn’t mean he wanted to get hurt. He didn’t even have a weapon to defend himself.

Somewhere in the trees ahead of them a branch snapped, then another. Jon braced himself as he heard footsteps approaching him, growing faster and louder until he saw a huge brown thing burst out from behind a bush and race towards where he stood. It was all he could do to cast a simple protective spell on the cat and drop her on the ground before the thing knocked him over. His head hit hard-packed earth and the world went dark.

“-right?” A voice sounded from somewhere nearby, sounding concerned but Jon was in too much pain to register much more. He willed his body to heal itself, to reduce the swelling and stop his head from throbbing with every beat of his heart. Slowly, agonizingly slow, he found that he could open his eyes, although the world itself was a blur of green and black. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

Just as his eyes adjusted he saw a face staring down at him, their expression worried. A human? Sitting up so fast his head swam Jon checked to see that his hood was still in place. It had shifted somewhat when he fell, but his ears were thankfully still covered. The human had curly orange hair and a round, friendly face, although they still looked anxious. Next to them sat a dog, a huge fluffy thing, even sitting it came up to Jon’s chest, with light-brown fur everywhere but its face and ears, which were black. Was this the beast?

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” The human’s voice was high-pitched and laced with concern. Jon shook his head slightly, but winced as pain sparked behind his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Regardless of how worried this human was, Jon didn’t want them looking at him too closely, the last thing he needed was for them to find out just what he was. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” They looked surprised. “I was looking for my dog; they ran off and, well, it’s not like I can stop him if he wants to go somewhere.”

“You own this thing?”

“Well, I guess you could say that. His owners couldn’t take care of him because they had another baby on the way and...” The human trailed off, freckled cheeks flushing pink. “Anyway, I’ve taken in strays before so they felt comfortable giving him to me.”

Jon didn’t really care about where the dog came from, but looking at the size of its paws gave him an idea. “I’ve been told there’s some sort of beast attacking animals in the woods, and I found tracks and claw marks on the path-”

“It’s not him! I know what you’re talking about- I’ve had to take in a whole bunch of wounded animals recently- so I came out here to try and find this ‘beast’ too.” Their voice rose an octave, eyes widening with fear. “I brought Silas with me because I thought he could maybe track it somehow? I know he’s not really a hunting dog but still...”

“Has it?” He scanned the ground nearby and found the tortoiseshell cat hiding behind a tree just off the path. Kneeling down Jon held out a hand to her. “I’m sorry, darling. Are you alright?” The cat approached him cautiously, eyes darting to the dog every so often, and he scooped her up in his arms.

“What?”

“Has it tracked the beast?” It was hard to keep from rolling his eyes, Jon didn’t care much for rambling when he had something to do. He absentmindedly stroked the tortoiseshell’s head, trying to reassure it.

“N- No... I thought he had but he just found you.” The human gave a shy smile. “How do I know you’re not the beast?”

Jon stiffened, his ears flattening against his hair and his tail bristling. In his arms the cat hissed angrily. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Calm down, let me handle this.” It was clear this human had no idea they’d just insulted a god, but as much as Jon wanted to curse them for the accusation he was here for a different reason. “If you don’t have anything helpful to say then this is where we part.” He continued to comfort the cat as he pushed past them and continued on the path.

“W- Wait!” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw the human was following him. “I mean, we both have the same goal, don’t we? We both want to find this beast and stop it from hurting the local animals. Why don’t we look for it together?”

“I can’t stop you from following me.” Jon sighed and tugged his hood farther forward. He had a feeling that he’d made the wrong decision, but he’d spoken the truth. Besides, this human was larger than he was, with them and the dog he might stand a chance against this beast.

They walked in silence for a while, but like all good things it didn’t last. “I just realized I never got your name; I’m Martin, Martin Blackwood.”

“Jon.” He didn’t feel much like talking, especially since he was trying to listen for any strange noises.

“Just... Just Jon?” The human- Martin- seemed dissatisfied at his answer.

“That’s all I’m willing to share with you.”

“Right, that’s fine,” A pause. “Are you a man?” When Jon glared at them Martin turned bright red. “It’s just, I don’t want to misgender you, that’s all. I’m a man, he/him pronouns.”

“I don’t really see the point of gender.” Jon sighed, pulling on his hood as his ears were flicking enough from irritation he feared it might fall down. “He/they, I guess.”

“Got it.” Martin was a few paces behind, his footsteps louder than Jon’s. “I’m guessing you’re also an animal lover, given that you’re also searching for this beast.” Jon wanted to scream, could this human not be quiet for five minutes?

“Yes, which is why I’m trying to track it. That being said, if it makes noise I will be unable to hear it because you keep talking.” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw Martin stiffen, his cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. Thankfully he didn’t say anything though, and Jon could have cried from relief.

They continued on, neither of them making a sound as they trudged through the woods, occasionally the dog would run ahead and sniff at a tree or patch of earth but thankfully it didn’t bark. Eventually they arrived in a clearing only to find more tracks in the dirt, the same ones Jon had seen on the path. He was about to say something to Martin when some bushes rustled and a giant wolf leapt towards him.

Having a huge animal knock him over once already that day Jon was more alert, and while he managed to avoid the worst of the beast’s attack its claws still managed to slash through his tunic and he could feel hot, sticky blood running down his side. The pain would come later, once the shock went away, but he was glad to have only gotten minor injuries as he stumbled backwards, clutching the cat to his chest and making sure his hood hadn’t fallen off. His ears were flattened against his hair again and his heart was racing.

“Jon!” Martin rushed to him, blue eyes wide as he took in the wound. Jon pushed him away, staring at the wolf in horror. The beast was as large as a horse, its fur so streaked with dirt and blood, mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Still, even as his skin knit back together and his heart pounded in his chest he sensed something off about it. Not just its size, but something about its essence was wrong.

Martin had grabbed a broken branch and was holding it like a club, the dog was growling and looked ready to attack the wolf, but Jon held out a hand. “Don’t!”

“That thing nearly killed you!”

“It’s cursed, Martin, it’s not doing this because it wants to.” Placing the tortoiseshell on the ground he took a few cautious steps towards the wolf, one hand outstretched. It snarled at him, crouching down as though preparing to strike again, but Jon tried to reach out with his powers. He was a cat god, but he hoped he could at least calm the thing down from whatever blind rage it had succumbed to. As he drew nearer he saw something wrapped around the beast’s neck, a leather cord so dirty it was almost indistinguishable from its fur. The energy emanating from the cord was the cause of the strange feeling he’d sensed, could that be the source of the curse? “We need to get the cord off its neck.”

“How are we supposed to do that? I doubt we can get close enough.” Martin frowned, but at least he didn’t seem like he was going to attack the wolf.

“Do you have a knife of some sort?” Jon supposed that being the god of cats it was unusual for him to not have “claws” of some sort, but he didn’t like hurting living things. In the future he might start carrying something around, just in case he needed it.

“Oh, yeah! Hang on.” Martin dropped the branch and fumbled at his waist before tossing something to Jon, who barely managed to catch it. Fortunately the knife was still in its leather sheath, the wooden handle was worn but the blade gleamed as though it had been freshly sharpened. Upon seeing it the wolf snarled, baring its teeth and crouching down as though readying to pounce.

“That’s what I was worried about.” Jon sheathed the knife again and approached the beast slowly, trying not to startle it. Fortunately the wolf did not attack, but it didn’t relax either, its ice-blue eyes focused on him.

When he was in front of it he grasped the leather cord in one hand and had to resist the urge to cry out in agony. Jon wasn’t the target of this particular curse, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the malice that had gone into it. A deer, sacred to the Goddess of the Wild, had been slain by accident and the hunter had been turned into a bloodthirsty monster in return. The wolf howled, out of pain or sadness he didn’t know, but he managed to pull out the knife and cut the cord. It fell to the ground, turning into a pile of ash, and Jon felt his knees buckle.

When his vision cleared Martin was kneeling next to him, and before him lay a woman. Her clothes were tattered, caked in blood and dirt, her blond hair coming out of its messy braid. The dog sniffed at her prone form, occasionally nudging her cheek with his nose or pawing at her as though it was concerned. Jon could see that she was breathing, but no doubt she was exhausted from whatever the curse had done to her.

“This is the beast?” Martin looked taken aback, that the monster who’d slaughtered and wounded animals was just a human. “She looks so... innocent.”

“Everyone looks innocent when they’re asleep. She’s a hunter, but she accidentally chose the wrong prey and angered a god.” Jon sighed, getting to his feet and once more checking his hood.

The cat wound its way between his legs, rubbing up against them and purring. “You did it master!”

“I can carry her back to town.” Jon blinked, not sure he’d understood Martin. “What? We can’t just leave her here, it’d be best to bring her to a healer so someone can take a look at her.”

“Right, of course.” He’d forgotten that humans were so fragile, although Jon could sense that some part of the curse had not left the woman. She had been changed by it, marked by the wild.

The trip back through the forest was quiet, neither of them felt much like talking as they picked their way through the trees. The sun had started to set and Jon had to rely on his night vision to guide them, all the while hoping that Martin wouldn’t ask how he could see so well in the dark, or notice the unusual shine to his eyes. Once they’d entered town a handful of cats approached him, all of them thanking him for getting rid of the beast.

“Wow,” Martin gaped at the welcome party. “Cats really like you, huh?”

“You could say that.” Jon replied, unable to hide his smirk.

It was fortunate that the healer recognized the woman and agreed to treat her free of charge because Jon had no money whatsoever. His followers were mainly cats, and it wasn’t like they were in the business of giving him spare change. The healer called the woman “Daisy,” although the name didn’t seem to fit the huge wolf she’d been mere hours ago. Then again, Jon wasn’t exactly the best name for a god of cats and it was still his name.

It was only when Martin stopped at a crossroads and pointed down one of the streets did Jon remember that their partnership had been temporary. “I live down that way, I’m sure if you ask someone they’ll be able to point you in my direction.”

“Right...” It was strange, he’d only known Martin for a short amount of time and yet he felt a pang of sadness in his chest. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Goodnight, Jon.” Martin smiled and began to walk away, the dog bounding off down the street.

“Goodnight, Martin.”

When he returned to his temple and settled down on the pile of blankets he called a bed Jon thought about his day. While he’d originally set off to find the beast because his followers had asked it of him, he hadn’t actually done anything godlike. Sure, he’d figured out that the wolf was cursed and managed to break the cord, but it hadn’t really been that difficult. Apart from getting injured twice, that was. Jon thought of Martin’s kindness when the dog had knocked him over, of his flushed face when he was embarrassed, of his bravery when preparing to fight the beast. As his eyes drifted shut he considered how odd it was, that after being a god for so long it only took one day for him to suddenly feel so very human.

——

One day I will not get ideas for an event the day of said event. Credit to the Magnus Writer’s server for the plot bunny, and thanks to @ravendarkwood for the beta!

#jonsimsandcats2021 #jon sims and cats day #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #the magnus archives #tma #tma fanfic #my fic

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thevindicativevordan · 3 years

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On Supergirl

Figured I should put up my thoughts about Kara in the wake of her first film appearance being announced, and the final season of her TV show fast approaching. Short version is: Kara is very cool and DC needs to stop messing with her.

My Introduction to Kara

I was introduced to Kara the way most millennials/Gen Zers were I imagine, via the Loeb Superman/Batman arc which brought the traditional Kara Zor-El Supergirl take into Post-Crisis continuity, after years of DC attempting to have a “Supergirl” without violating the editorial mandate that Kal needed to be the literal “Last Son of Krypton” (an example of one of the dumb ways DC fucked Kara over). Story goes that one day Dan Didio was in line at the Superman ride at Six Flags (I love that ride even though it’s stolen my glasses every time I’ve ridden it, even when I left them in a locker!). The ride had signs that talked about various Superman characters. Didio was reading the entry for Supergirl where it talked about her not being Clark’s cousin but instead some weird merge of alien shapeshifter, angel, and human girl, and he realized how fucking stupid that was, and he went back to the office and told Loeb to bring Kara back.

Years later I would also be standing in line at the Six Flags Superman ride (probably at a different park location but who knows?) as a youngster and would read the new Supergirl sign that trumpeted that Superman had a cousin who shared all his powers, an update reflecting the new Loeb origin. I thought she sounded pretty cool, made a note to see if my library had any Supergirl stories next time I visited, then got on the Superman ride and promptly lost my glasses like an idiot because I wanted to take them off while I was riding and pretend I was changing from my “disguise” into Superman mid flight. My dad grounded me for this afterwards, but it gave me a funny story to tell at family get togethers and isn’t that what Six Flags is all about?

A month later (and with spiffy new glasses), my mom dropped me off at a new library next to where she worked, and they had one of the best Superman collections I’ve ever seen to this day. I was in heaven and while reading every Superman book I could find (I couldn’t check them out because I didn’t have a card, my mom’s card didn’t cover the area the library was in, and my mom wouldn’t have checked them out anyway since comics were “too violent”), I found the trade collecting Kara’s new origin. I read it and I thought both she and Superman were really cool, and Batman was a punk who had to beat Darkseid by cheating, the loser. Turner’s art to my young eyes was the best I had ever seen, and the panels got engraved into my brain.

I still get downright nostalgic whenever I see Turner Superman or Supergirl stuff. I also got my parents to rent the animated movie adaption of the Superman/Batman arc from Blockbuster (remember those?), and that sealed the deal. Seeing Kara hold her own against Darkseid convinced me she was as cool as her cousin. Next time my mom dropped me off at the library next to her workplace, I went looking for Supergirl stuff to read. I found the first volume of her new volume by Joe Kelly taking place after the Loeb arc and dove in.

It was... weird. 5 years later I might have enjoyed it but at the time I was majorly put off. Kara took a secret identity for a day and then ditched it because it was “stupid” and the kids bullied her. She was always getting into fights with Kal, and there was this weird plot that I couldn’t follow about how her dad had sent her to kill Kal, maybe or maybe not? Also she could grow crystals which I thought was dumb, and said she was stronger than her cousin which I couldn’t buy for a second given he looked like he was carved out of marble, and she looked like she relied on sunlight instead of food. I put the volume back on the shelf and kinda gave up on reading the character after that for a while.

I followed her via the DC wiki updates just like I did Superman, and everything I read seemed dumb and convoluted. She was split in two, moped around a lot, made out with an alternate version of her cousin, and basically just flopped about the same way the rest of the Superfamily did during the 00s. Nothing made me think I had made a mistake dropping Kara until I read the latest update to her wiki page.

I was super into what I was reading about the Busiek/Johns era of Superman online. Lex was back and making a big revenge scheme that involved all the other Rogues! Old Superman Rogues were getting revamped and made cool again! Johns reintroduced Brainiac and made him a big threat, with Kal and Kara teaming up to fight him! Busiek was revamping Prankster and telling big ambitious Superman stories! For the first time in a long while, the consensus on the Internet was that Superman was good again. My “home” library had zero Marvel books and no Superman or Batman books, all their DC stuff was Flash or Green Lantern, mainly written by Johns. Insane to think back on now. My hopes that because Johns was involved with Superman, Superman books would show up at my library were fulfilled. They started bringing in Busiek and Johns collections, and someone there also ordered Sterling Gates’ first volume of Supergirl, and I checked everything out since I was old enough to have my own library card, and my parents were worried more about the violent video games I was playing rather than comics.

I read everything and loved it. I also really liked Gates’ take on Kara. She was still an imperfect teenager but she wasn’t insufferably angsty or constantly fighting with Kal. She was going to give the secret identity another try and Lana had “adopted” her. It’s funny remembering how I enjoyed all that given my current thoughts on how Kara should work, but it was great at the time. I liked Gates introducing new foes for Kara, some classic Superman Rogues adapted for her like Bizzarogirl, others crafted specifically for her like Reactron. Gates’ basically rekindled my enjoyment of Kara the same way Busiek & Johns rekindled my enjoyment of Superman.

Of course it ended terribly like everything Superman-related seems to.

I’ve got a whole post I want to do about New Krypton and what came after. In short that is the most blatant example of “hitting the reset button” that I’ve ever seen. All the potential got wasted, and afterwards everything except Lex’s Action Comics stuff just didn’t appeal to me. Gates got booted off Kara for Nick Spencer who ended up leaving himself later, a promising Teen Titans line-up with Kara on it didn’t happen, and the last proper Pre-Flashpoint Superfamily story was a crappy team-up with Doomsday against Bigger Doomsday (thank God for Cornell’s final Luthor/Superman confrontation at least). When news of the reboot arrived, I was honestly happy. The Superline needed an enema.

Controversial opinion time: I liked New 52 Supergirl. It’s weird because a lot of the stuff I hated about Kelly’s run was here, and a lot of the stuff I loved about the Gates’ run was not. This was angry, moody, emotional Kara again, fighting with Kal and not fond of Earth. But I was in my teens at this point, and I didn’t want happy go-lucky Superman or Supergirl. I wanted my heroes angry, scared of the future, ready to go out there and smash some cars. Morrison’s Action Comics was 100% my jam (still is once I really understood the deeper meaning beneath the work) and this Kara felt like a natural fit for this universe. Plus we got Asrar on art and that guy made it damn pretty to look at, lots of cool science fiction stuff going on, even with the dumb H’el storyline.

I loved all the new Rogues Kara got. I loved her new Fortress under the ocean. I loved how traumatized she was by the loss of Krypton, that she wanted more than anything to go home, that her cousin was like a stranger to her since they had been apart for so long. I found all of that incredibly relatable. A lot of the New 52 Supergirl stories might have been schlock but it was my type of schlock damnit, and I enjoyed it!

I kept with her New 52 series all the way through the Red Daughter Saga (which I loved). As someone who grew up on Johns GL (since that was the only comics my home library had), seeing a Supercharacter join a Lantern Corp was the hypest thing ever. I loved the finale about Kara finally letting go of her anger and losing the ring while smashing her foe into the sun, it was incredibly cathartic for me as an angry teen myself. I finally stopped following her series sometime after since I was no longer enjoying the Superline or really DC as a whole. It wasn’t until I heard that New 52 Superman died and the “old” Superman was back, that I checked back into DC.

DC Rebirth & How I Think Kara Should Work

I did not enjoy Supergirl Rebirth, and I think I’ll talk about my problems with it alongside how I think Kara as a character should work since the two are related. A pet peeve of mine that has formed over the years is this: I don’t like it when Superfamily members get turned into Clark clones. Kon wearing glasses and going to Smallville High. Kara going to high school and being involved in journalism. Jon more or less being written as a copy of his dad personality-wise. I hate that kind of stuff because it’s boring. What’s the point of a Superfamily if everyone is just copying Clark? It also doesn’t fit the characters especially in Kara’s case. Why the hell does she want to be a journalist? Were there journalists on Krypton? I don’t remember ever seeing one! Shouldn’t she want to be, I dunno, a scientist? That seems to have been the El family tradition, wouldn’t she have been groomed for that?

This one-off by Shea is honestly the only acceptable outcome for Kara going into journalism for me. She realizes she’s just copying her cousin and switches to something she wants to do. So Orlando copying the show, which already basically turned Kara into an expy of her cousin, just did not appeal to me at all. What had worked for me under Gates way back when was not clicking for me this time. I wanted to see Kara embody the principles of the S-shield in a different way than her cousin did. So I really enjoyed when Rebirth ended and we moved into the Bendis era with Andrekyo relaunching the title as Kara in space.

Kara in space has always felt like a good fit for me. Unlike Kal I’ve come to believe that Kara really shouldn’t be all that fond of Earth. For him it’s home, but for her it’s just where she ended up after her real home got destroyed. I think Kara works well as a sort of nomad, occasionally making stops back home to Earth to check on her cousin, but otherwise? She’s more comfortable out in space than she could ever be on Earth. Out in space she can be Kryptonian (which is what she should think of herself as in contrast to Clark being torn between his Kryptonian biology and human upbringing, and Jon/Kon identifying as human), be her true self, not have to pretend to be human to fit in. Kara founding a moon refuge was one of the best ideas for her that I’ve seen, I would love if DC made her Future State refugee center on the moon canon. I’m excited for more Kara adventures in space with the upcoming Tom King story.

Also love that her and Krypto are getting tied together, if they don’t want to use Krypto in Superman’s stuff, let her have him! Bring on cosmic adventurer Supergirl!

Personality & Other Traits

Kara to me should be more hot-tempered than her cousin. All the Superfamily members should have a temper in my opinion, I see that as the “Deadly Sin” of Superman and his family. But while Kal is like a simmering pot that will explode if it’s left cooking for too long, Kara is like dynamite. Light her fuse at your own peril because she will go off on you.

I also like the idea of Kara being rash. Kal’s got a maturity that came from over a decade of having to live with Lex Luthor constantly getting away with all his evil schemes. He’s patient because he’s been forced to be. Kara? If you ask for her help she’ll give it, but beware because she doesn’t really care about the long term impacts of her decisions. She’s an invulnerable teenager after all.

Really liked that Venditti Annual where Kara got tutored in history by a reincarnation of Hawkman. Kara having a passion for history is a neat trait, would be nice to see her teach Kal or Jon some Kryptonian lore, or have her lead a Kryptonian holiday celebration for the Superfamily because she’s the only one who remembers how to do it.

Sexuality wise I know a lot of people ship Kara and Lena on account of the chemistry between the two in the show. I haven’t watched the show myself but I’m fine with making Kara bisexual, the Superfamily could use some LGBT+ rep, and Lena hasn’t done anything of worth as a villain, so undo that and throw the two together. If we’re letting Harley and Ivy get away with murder I think we can let Lena off the hook too, undo the Ultrawoman weirdness and put the two together. Could be fun seeing the two building that moon refuge together.

All in all I think Kara is a great character who is a stronger embodiment of the immigrant experience than even her cousin in some ways. I hope King does a good job with her, she’s treated better than her cousin on the film side, and that overall the 20s are a better decade for Supergirl than the 10s were.

#supergirl #superman #lena luthor #krypto #dc comics

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omegatheunknown · 3 years

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AEW ALL OUT 2021

In which, not to get ahead of myself here, AEW puts on one of the best major wrestling shows in several years*, following the simple yet effective principle of giving the people what they want and sending everyone home happy and hungry for more.

- The incredibly 'Nitro' ending of the go-home Dynamite, which ran a little long on the 'heels beat everyone up and strut around like assholes almost too in desperate need of comeuppance' bit, short of garbage raining into the ring, did actually increase the heat for both promoted matches. Again, not rocket science, but executed perfectly. Catharsis was on the card, and catharsis went over several times Sunday. - Again, it's time to move on from the Casino theme, shuffling the deck and drawing suits really only detracted from the Battle Royale and seemingly always throws the production crew a curve. If they haven't hammered it by now, it's not going to happen. - Bit unhappy about the PAC/Andrade situation, but still over the moon with Andrade's promo style and Chavito being unhelpful at best.

*Pre-Card

Best Friends and Jurassic Express v The Hardy Family Office and The Hybrid 2 (**) - Not usually much to say about a loaded-up multiteam boondoggle, particularly when the show has yet to begin, but there were some moments worth sitting up to take notice -- there's a lot of talent in the ring, even if Jack Evans/Angelico aren't going to be more than mid-level mooks, little matchups with guys like Luchasaurus and Chuck Taylor are opportunities for innovative/weird spots. - Really this match exists to show-off Jungle Boy, play his theme song twice, and work him in to the aforementioned spots. I don't rightly know what Jungle Jack's ceiling is, but it sort of feels like he's plateauing, at least this version of himself. - Dan Lambert thing is interesting in that it doesn't seem to easily lead to something obvious... I mean who are Scorp and Ethan Page feuding with by proxy here, the concept of contemporary professional wrestling? Orange Cassidy and Kenny Omega?

*Main Card

Miro (C) v Eddie Kingston for the TNT Championship (***1/2) - 'Redeem Deez Nuts' T-shirts now available -- and made immediately redundant now that Miro has graciously redeemed Eddie's nuts. - Imagine looking at Miro, listening to Miro talk, and not really being able to figure out this guy is money. Also imagine panicking when he took a little while to find his groove in AEW. 'The Redeemer' is both entertaining and terrifying, and this match delivered heavily on the promise of two big fellas smacking together repeatedly. - Not only does Eddie's arsenal of power moves target Miro's neck, he may also be quite difficult to put in the full reclined camel clutch. Or he'd quite literally snap in half. It didn't come to that. - Weird heel turn by Bryce's attention span and the overall weirdness of the finish is all that kept this from being an excellent match, otherwise this was a tremendous curtain jerker and started off a dangerously fun run of pure adrenaline.

Jon Moxley v Satoshi Kojima (****) - The stakes were nebulous, the build was abrupt, yet this was a fantastic match and tremendous showcase for an underappreciated great who has been more or less just toiling for a bunch of years as a NJPW Dad. Same deal for Nagata, and I assume Tenzan is the same, Taka Michinoku even -- let's see it. - I have to assume the Cozy Lariat might have put Mox down, but Kojima otherwise played the hits (Koji Cutter, Piledriver, Brainbustaaaa) in a big way and Moxley once again proved he's become a very well-rounded wrestler who can match the intensity of just about any former IWGP champion. - More to the point-- KAZE NI NARE -- out of nowhere, too. Or out of nowhere to those not paying attention to the whereabouts of Minoru Suzuki (Right, he's just over here to fight Daniel Garcia and not Mox?), which I guess is to my own peril. Wow, though. Surprise Number 1- a complete surprise, and a welcome one. Let's have it.

Dr Britt Baker, DMD (C) v Kris Statlander for the AEW Women's Championship (****) - I love Kris and her best friends but she didn't have a prayer of dethroning Britt. She got one promo, several weeks ago, and though she did make a meal of Hayter and Rebel, the chase has been abrupt and not given much discussion, other than Mark Henry and whomever else acknowledging what is extremely evident -- Statlander is stronger than she looks, and she looks really strong. They've got her doing Cesaro-level 'modify your grip while holding your opponent's entire weight' nonsense, and it's amazing and scary. - Even with the reign of the good doctor not being credibly threatened, this was an excellent match that demonstrated the continued growth of the competitors in the women's division, even as it underlined that their storylines remain undercooked and perfunctory: Orange Cassidy whipping off his shades to urge Stat to get up was a beautiful moment. Britt's Panama Sunrise, also, too sweet. Statlander eating shit on her 451 and her pendulum moonsault was properly brutal, as were Britt's curb stomps. Really great match between these two. - Again, if they had bothered to write anything into this story, such as Kris' alien physiology making her immune to the lockjaw or something... actually, maybe that's a terrible idea. it's an idea. Undefeated challenger is defeated, on to the next for Dr Britt. Statlander and OC should tag against some of the boys.

The Young Bucks (C) v The Lucha Bros for the AEW World Tag Team Championship(*****+) - Can't not mention the insane entrance lined up for Fenix and Penta. It was bewildering, it was enchanting, it was aggressive, it was hype. It also reminded everybody how very badly we all wanted the Lucha Bros to win. The crowd has been setting new peaks with their volume since Punk showed up, but things were absolutely thunderous and ecstatic at the end of this match. Absolutely valid response. I yelled on the couch. - Nick's facial hair was a bigger tell that it was time for the Bucks to lose than anything else about this build. There's literally nowhere to go from there -- they've done the hair, the bandanas, the kicks, the animal print, the dangly earrings -- peak visual heel for this time and place. - Sincerely thought this was going to be too much of a full sprint spot-fest (the PWG-esque circle of trading blows is not really 'my thing') but even so they kept finding gears, and ramping and ramping and adding blood and brutality along the way. Even a bit of levity, with the tacked up sneaker, followed by the sincerity of Penta throwing himself in harm's way to protect his brother. Immense match, I think you'd have to go back to the Bucks vs the Addiction and MCMGs Ladder War to find a more thrilling tag team gimmick match. - If there's a single flaw to be found it's in the production not really settling on wide angles for simultaneous action at the start of the match. They figured it out. - Rey Fenix is the best luchador in the world.

Women's Casino Battle Royale (**1/2) - If nothing else, this really shows off that they now have a surplus of women's wrestlers who deserve time to hang in the ring. Unsurprisingly, the match picked right up when Thunder Rosa and then Jamie Hayter got to the ring, with additional props to Tay Conti and Jade Cargill, who was dumped rather unceremoniously given her general booking... - Okay, there was something else. Welcome to the rechristened Ruby Soho, who I've not seen a lot of outside of her extremely limited showcase in WWE, but she has so many friends in the back and in the industry and that's never for nothing, not in wrestling, anyway. Intrigued to see where she fits, and if the women ever get more than a match per show. - Touched on this in the preamble but this was the roughest part of the night for the home viewer, just weird decisions on cutting away from various entrances to show... nothing in particular happening. Also while the commitment to not-kayfabing the countdown clock is... admirable? It makes the pacing hinky. - Almost everyone who got new gear for tonight was looking like the white ranger -- Nyla, Swole, Bunny, someone I'm missing. Except Anna Jay, whose stars and glitter gear looked great.

MJF v Chris Jericho for the fate of Jericho's in-ring career (***) - MJF's unauthorized homage to Y2J's entrance: good. Fozzy's guitarist going off tempo with the instrumental Judas: weak, and would've been sad if this were the end for Jericho. Especially as the build has felt... muted, somehow. - Props to the commentary for continuing to feed the red herring of 'in AEW,' as a caveat to stipulation, it did feel like... a remote possibility that MJF would win. - Credit to Aubrey for calling this one down the middle and not putting the fix in for her friend Jericho, and I guess the Dusty finish will give MJF plenty to gripe about. - MJF wrestles with a pure heel style, holds, chops, blocks, and Jericho is fifty years old, so the level of wrestling on exhibition in these matches is well beside the point. It was solid to good, and I was fighting burn out from the first half of the card's level of excitement.

CM Punk v Darby Allin (***1/2) - There are a couple benefits of Darby as a dance partner, and it's certainly better than having to watch Punk return against like, QT Marshall or Shawn Spears. Darby does make everyone look slow, but he can also be tossed around, and this raises his profile even in defeat, obviously. That said, the stakes here are... meta, at best, in that we want to see the man look good and justify the hype. It's a weird thing to root for. He certainly does look good. (Tights? Tights!) - It's fun to theorize about actually booking an angle where Punk is rusty and needs to regain his prowess, and maybe he'll stumble, but maybe the most we get out of that angle is hitting the GTS a little close to the ropes so Darby falls right out of the ring, in what was, for me, the spot that justified this whole match. - Sting's proud step-dad aura is still a hell of a thing, I really liked the end of the match kudos all around. - Match was good, hard to hang my emotions on. I wasn't watching WWE when Punk was in WWE. Definitely feeding off the excitement of others a bit here, and he sure can talk. I'd like to see him cultivate a stable, certainly.

Paul Wight v QT Marshall (n/r) - ...popcorn match? QT Marshall is like the anti-Daniel Garcia in that while his prominence and presence is just as inexplicable, I don't want it to continue, and he doesn't justify it in the process. - Match was two minutes longer than it needed to be.

Kenny Omega (c) v Christian Cage for the AEW World Championship (****1/2) - Crowd was both burnt out and more or less waiting for the post-match angle. Which I get. it's hard to cruise to the main event and having seen all the different things we've already seen on this card, even a singular performer like Kenny Omega and a legend with whom he (surprisingly? fittingly?) has superb chemistry with in Christian Cage were up against it to deliver something memorable. - Context dependent, I can definitely see rating this below their Rampage match, especially since... I mean Christian isn't winning the AEW title off Kenny at this or probably any other event. - But! It was really good! It was very good! They really do match-up well, and Kenny's v-trigger has rarely looked more devastating than when it knocks Christian flat. Christian got cut open in a novel and initially worrying way, and Kenny followed up a botched moonsault with a harder version of the same move off a rail, but it was a really great match and it deserved more energy than was available.

Post-Show - Calling back and inverting the end of Dynamite, The Elite strut about the ring, slightly less stoked than they were on Wednesday, but with the Bucks smiling through the pain, and Jungle Boy once again subjected to violence for his misguided heroism, Kenny 'not much a promo' Omega lays down a killer line about nobody being fit to challenge him who isn't unavailable, already tired or dead. - The Undertaker ADAM COLE, BAY BAY as Surprise #3 was a minor stroke of brilliance, and a fun swerve because while it's exciting to see him, his appearance at this point in the narrative does nothing to solve the problem of The Elite beating up Christian and Jungle Boy. Unless he's still sore about his unsolved murder, which he isn't. Storytime with Adam Cole is back and it's beautiful. Also Jungle Boy died for this. - Okay. But. Just. Okay. CM Punk and Bryan Danielson are All Elite. They will hopefully tag together. Bryan will head to NJPW, almost definitely. Minoru Suzuki just walked in and started slugging on Mox. The Forbidden Door is wide open. Will Kenny Omega one day return to Wrestle Kingdom? There are so many possibilities and they are all very exciting. This was a phenomenal show and it didn't have Hangman Page, Cody Rhodes, FTR, Santana and Ortiz, PAC, Andrade, Sammy Guevara, Team Taz, and the rest.

- Wrestling is good, actually. Imagine watching like five hours of wrestling and loving wrestling at the end of it.

*What competes- WK11, Dominion 2018, 2019, DoN 2019, 2021.. All-In, probably. Wrestlemania 30. A few Takeovers. Kris Wolf's retirement show...

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writingblock101 · 4 years

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Insufferable (Damian Wayne x Reader)

Request for anon: “Would you write a Damian fic that’s him basically being a total brat in the beginning and immediately starting an antagonistic or combative relationship only to be thrown on his ass when he’s like wait?? I think I actually like her?? How do I get her to stop arguing with me??

Word Count: 3,700

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @mayahoelland2013

You and Damian are 12 at the beginning of this. Enjoy!

“That was awesome!” Jon grins. “But watch this!” He fires laser beams from his eyes at the target down the range.

“Whoa!” You cheer. “Oh, I got another one!” You notch and fire six consecutive arrows, hitting the target in the pattern of a smiley face.

Jon laughs.

“Can you do any other shapes?”

“I’m working on doing animals. Roy thinks it’s funny, and Jason wants me to learn how to spell out messages,” You grin proudly.

You started as a street rat in Star City inspired by Green Arrow and Arsenal but you bit off a little more than you could chew. Good thing Arsenal was there to watch your back then he found himself in possession of a protege. To this day, Roy swears he still doesn’t know how you talked him into training you, but Jason told you he has a soft spot for street kids.

You’re at the Justice League Watch Tower because apparently the Justice League wants to work out a deal with the Outlaws or something. You think it’s stupid, but you guess you can give credit to League for trying to bridge the gap between themselves and the Outlaws. Batman has failed for years to do so effectively, but then again, for the world’s greatest detective, Batman is kind of a dumbass.

Luckily, you didn’t have to sit in on the shit show because Superman brought Superboy with him, and apparently Batman is bringing Robin. Jon speaks highly of Damian, but Jason refers to him as the “demon child”. Then again, Jason didn’t like Tim for a long time, but you think Tim is cool, so maybe Jason’s wrong about Damian.

“Oh, great, another arrow,” A new voice groans from behind you.

“Damian!” Jon grins. “This is Y/N, Black Falcon!”

“I was expecting someone more impressive, but perhaps I had my standards too high for an arrow,” Damian narrows his eyes.

Okay, maybe Jason wasn’t wrong...

“Funny,” You raise an eyebrow. “I thought Robin would be taller.”

“I am a perfectly adequate height,” He growls.

“Okay, pipsqueak.”

Damian rolls his eyes again.

“It’s clear you’ve been living with Todd by your childish insults.”

“At least I don’t get mistaken for a nine-year-old.”

“Perhaps that is a problem you have. I am twelve.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You watch his jaw clench, a smirk working onto your face. It’s almost cute how hard he is pretending to not be annoyed by you.

“Y/N was showing me her archery skills! Look, she can make shapes!” Jon points toward the target downrange, probably hoping to diffuse the situation quickly building between you and Damian.

Damian rolls his eyes, looking unimpressed.

“What tactical advantage does shooting your arrows in a smiley face give you?”

“None,” You admit, slinging your bow over your shoulder. “But I bet you can’t do something more impressive.”

You see him rising to the bait as he glares at you.

“I don’t stoop to childish competitions to prove myself.”

“Come on, Dami,” Jon pleads. “Show us the trick with the Batarang and the apple!”

Damian whips around to glare at Jon for exposing him partaking in “childish competitions” while your mischievous smile deepens.

“Unless you’re scared of your party trick looking lame,” You taunt.

“It’s not a party trick!” Damian barks.

“Right because I’m sure you have a lot of use for being able to throw Batarangs at apples in the field,” You roll your eyes.

“Target practice,” Damian snaps.

“And a normal target wouldn’t work?”

Damian glares at you for a long minute.

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving past Jon toward another room.

“Does this mean you’re going to do it?” Jon asks hopefully.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” Jon grins, then motions for you to follow him. “Come on! We’ve gotta go get apples from the cafeteria!”

“There’s a cafeteria in here?” You dazedly question, following Jon and Damian.

“Tt,” Damian rolls his eyes.

While the Outlaws have some cool technology (especially Kori’s ship!), most of their technology pales in comparison to the Justice League’s resources. Damian retrieves apples while Jon explains some of the other technology around the Watch Tower. The three of you return to the training room then Jon tosses an apple into the air.

Damian throws three Batarangs, slicing the apple into six even pieces in midair. He glances back at you, looking smug. You will admit, his accuracy is impressive. You’ve thrown knives before and it’s hard to be accurate throwing one knife at a moving object, much less three and slicing the target evenly, but of course, you can’t show that you’re impressed.

“Hey, Jon, can you slice one of these apples mid-air with your laser eyes?” You ask. “I’ve got an idea.”

Jon grins and eagerly throws an apple in a high arch, then cuts it with a blast of his laser eyes. You notch an arrow and fire it through the two apple halves, pinning it to the wall before it can hit the ground.

“Nice,” Jon praises while Damian looks bored. “My turn,” He hands you an apple to throw.

You toss it for him and Jon flashes his laser eyes again, but this time when the apple hits the ground, there’s a zig-zag pattern wrapped around it.

“That was cool!” You grin.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Damian looking at the apple with an impressed expression.

“Toss two at once,” You tell Jon, notching an arrow.

He throws two apples into the air, then you fire your arrow through both apples, pinning them to the wall.

“Tt,” Damian rolls his eyes. “Throw two more,” He tells Jon.

Jon grins, then throws two more apples. Damian throws a Batarang, one side of it catching one apple and the other burying itself into the other apple so that by the time the Batarang hits the floor, both apples are embedded on either side of it.

“I bet I can hit an apple before you can slice it with a Batarang,” You challenge Damian.

A smirk crosses his face.

“Be prepared to be disappointed.”

. . .

By the time Roy came to get you, you, Jon, and Damian had ran out of apples. Instead, Damian was throwing one of his Batarangs with a hole in the center of it while you tried to fire an arrow through the hole.

You notch another arrow then nod at Damian. He tosses the Batarang. You follow it with your arrow through the high arch then release, the arrow flying through the air and through the hole in the middle of the Batarang.

“Yes!” You cheer, high fiving Jon and Damian.

“Damian! Do you think you can hit one of Y/N’s arrows mid-air?” Jon asks.

Damian glances over at you for a moment.

“I can hit one of Y/N’s arrows easily, but will Y/N be able to hit one of my Batarangs?” He taunts.

“I could hit it in my sleep.”

Before Damian could remark with something witty, Roy interrupts.

“And as much as I would love to watch that, I don’t feel like replacing all your arrows yet. Come on, let’s go home.”

You frown at Roy but turn to Jon and Damian.

“Next time,” You promise, then follow Roy out of the room.

Jon and Damian watch you two leave then Jon turns to Damian with a grin.

“Y/N is cool. I like her.”

Damian rolls his eyes.

“She’s insufferable.”

“Sure,” Jon agrees knowingly.

Damian glares at him, ignoring the mischievous smile on Jon’s face.

. . .

You’ve never been to the Manor before, but a few months after the Justice League meeting, Jason had to retrieve some intel from Batman, and Roy sent you along with him to make sure Jason doesn’t start a fight with his foster father. He says Jason wants to set a good example for you so he won’t get in a fistfight with Bruce while you’re there.

“Alright, come on,” Jason ruffles your hair. “I know you want to see the Batcave.”

Currently, you’re sitting in the kitchen, chatting with Alfred, but at the mention of the Batcave, your face lights up.

“Thanks for the sandwich, Alfred!” You grin, chasing Jason out of the room.

“Of course,” He smiles.

Jason leads you over to the grandfather clock then moves the hands on the clock to a specific time. The clock shifts, revealing a doorway.

“Whoa,” You breathe, following Jason down the stairs into the huge cave.

You walk around the room slowly, taking everything in then you notice a figure sitting in front of the Bat computer.

“Tim!” You grin.

Tim spins around in his chair and smiles at you.

“Hey, Y/N, hey Jay. I didn’t know you guys were going to be here.”

“I’m picking up some intel from Bruce,” Jason tells him. “Roy made me bring Y/N to make sure I would be on my best behavior,” He rolls his eyes.

“And I wanted to see the Batcave,” You add.

“Bruce is in the back,” Tim jerks his head back toward a different area of the cave. “Come on, Y/N, I’ll show you around.”

You grin and eagerly follow Tim around, soaking in all the information. He shows you the various souvenirs Batman has collected from the Rogue gallery, the collection of Bat suits and past Robin suits, miscellaneous technology, and the vast array of weapons.

“This one is yours, right?” You ask, taking the bo staff off the wall.

“Yep,” Tim confirms, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You ever used one?”

“No,” You admit. “But sometimes I use my bow for hand to hand combat when I’m in a pinch. I’m not very good, but I’m getting better. Jason is helping me.”

“I could show you a few moves if you want,” Tim offers.

“Yeah!” You grin then Tim leads you onto the mats in the training area.

In comparison to Dick and Jason, Tim is fairly skinny. He doesn’t have the advantage of lots of muscle mass, so he has to compensate in different ways which is perfect for training you. While Roy and Jason are both good teachers, they are also both jacked while as of a year ago, you were starving on the streets, so you’ve been building your muscle back up, but you’re nowhere near their muscle mass (and probably never will be).

Tim shows you a few moves with his bo staff and even finds a bow for you to practice with so you can translate the moves over to your choice of weapon. He also shows you a few moves that allow you to flip someone over, even when they are heavier than you.

You push with your legs, driving your hips forward and pull down on Tim’s left arm, forcing him over your shoulder. Tim hits the ground with an “oof” but grins up at you.

“That was good,” He praises then you hear a familiar scoff behind you.

“That was child’s play,” Damian cross his arms.

Tim sighs, sitting up.

“Oh yeah?” You cross your arms. “Come on the mats, I’ll show you child’s play.”

Damian rolls his eyes.

“If I wanted an easy fight, I’d spar Drake.”

“Thanks,” Tim remarks sarcastically.

“Afraid you’re going to lose?” You taunt.

“Tt, I’ve fought against opponents twice your size blindfolded and won. I don’t fear losing.”

“Sounds like a lot of excuses to me.”

“I spend my training time improving, not fighting those beneath me.”

“Beneath you?” You question. “You’re three feet tall. There’s not many people beneath you.”

Tim snickers from the mats while Damian glares at you.

“I am not short!” He protests.

“Sure you aren’t, champ,” You smile condescendingly. “You’re just fun sized!”

Damian glowers at you then steps onto the mats.

“Fine. I’ll partake in your pathetic training exercise.”

You grin then Tim steps off the mats to let you two spar, watching from the side. You will admit that you may be a bit out of your depth by sparing Damian. It’s no secret that he is very well trained and an extremely talented fighter. You’re more a long-range type of fighter, but he’s too damn smug for you to not at least try to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. Somehow, you manage to shake out of Damian’s hold, flinging him off you.

Damian is a good fighter, but you know you’re putting up one hell of a fight right now. He lunges forward, and that’s when you see your opportunity. One minute, Damian is upright, in fighter’s guard, ready to strike, the next minute, he’s on his back staring at the ceiling, all the air knocked out of his lunges.

“Nice job, Y/N!” Tim grins while you cheer, running over to high five him.

“It worked!” You grin. “That was so cool.”

Damian slowly sits up, looking a little dazed then Jason walks over and announces that it’s time to go.

“Bye Tim!” You grin then smirk at Damian. “See you later, Bat Brat!”

Damian doesn’t even have a witty remark to shoot back at the insulting nickname you yelled to him. Once you and Jason leave the cave, Tim looks over at Damian with a knowing grin.

“You look a little starry-eyed there, Dames,” Tim shoots him a shit-eating grin. “Someone has a crush.”

“Shut up, Drake,” Damian growls. “I do not have a crush.”

“Oh please, everyone in this family practically falls in love when they meet someone who can knock them on their ass. I know that look. You like Y/N.”

“No, I do not,” Damian snaps, getting to his feet. “She is insufferable and you’re even bigger idiot than I thought if you think I would ever be attracted to someone like her,” He storms out of the cave while Tim grins.

. . .

Initially, you didn’t want to join the Teen Titans. You think something similar to the Outlaws is more appealing than the Teen Titans, but Roy and Kori convince you to give it a chance. The Titans had an especially big mission that they needed some extra manpower on so you agreed to help.

Low and behold, no one other than Damian Wayne is leading the team. You stroll into the tower with an overnight bag slung over your shoulder, Damian not noticing you until you say:

“Wow, Robin. I remember when I was taller than you. Then again, everyone was taller than you.”

Puberty was kind to Damian, finally blessing him with his father’s height. While Damian doesn’t have near the muscle mass of Bruce (what seventeen year old does?), you predict that Damian will eventually be taller than Bruce.

Damian sighs, slowly turning to face you with an unimpressed look.

“I see your humor hasn’t improved with age.”

“I see you still have a stick up your ass.”

It’s been a few years since you’ve seen Damian. Both of you have grown more into yourselves and improved skills, but some things never change.

“Why are you here?” Damian demands.

“Didn’t you hear? I’m your extra manpower on this mission,” You grin viciously. “I’m Y/N,” You introduce to the few Teen Titans you don’t recognize.

“Great, the Justice League is dooming us to fail,” Damian rolls his eyes.

“They did that when they put you in charge,” You snap back.

“Yes, and I suppose you’ve had lots of experience leading your nonexistent team.”

“Cute,” You sneer, shifting the bag on your shoulder. “I’m going to go claim a bed,” You announce then wander further into the tower.

“So, Dames,” Gar asks. “Who’s your friend?”

“Not a friend,” Damian growls.

“You wish she were more than a friend,” Jon grins.

“No, I do not,” Damian snaps.

“I dunno,” Gar trails off. “It seemed flirty to me. What do you think, Jon?”

“Definitely flirty,” Jon agrees.

“Shut up,” Damian growls. “I was not flirting with Y/N. She is insufferable,” Then Damian storms off.

Gar and Jon exchange a look.

“He’s so into her,” Gar insists.

“Has been since we were twelve,” Jon confirms.

. . .

You’ll admit it. Damian is a good leader. He’s a smug dick, but he’s good at what he does. Of course, just like any other of Damian’s talents, you would never admit this to him. His ego is big enough without you inflating it anymore.

And while Damian is a good leader and a fantastic planner, sometimes, plans go astray, like this plan, right now.

“Shit,” Robin curses.

You frown from where you’re keeping watch while Robin hacks into the compound files.

“What is it?” You ask.

“They’ve got a highly advance software on here that will recover any deleted files from the hard drive,” Robin frowns.

It was a rescue and extraction mission from a highly advanced facility experimenting on kidnapped kids to make super humans. The rest of the team was evacuating the facility while you and Robin went to extract data and destroy files.

“So, we have to destroy the computer system,” You frown, looking at the vast system which spreads across the huge room then look in your quiver. “I only have two exploding arrows left and they aren’t strong enough to take out everything.”

Robin curses in Arabic.

“I don’t have enough explosives on me to destroy the whole system either. Perhaps Superboy could--” He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps running your direction.

You draw your bow again, ready to fire.

“Looks like we’ve been found.”

As the first security guard rounds the counter, you let the arrow fly, shooting him in the shoulder. Robin uses a flying roundhouse to knock out the guard while you fire an arrow at a guard attempting to sneak up on him. You fire another arrow then punch a nearby guard in the face. Before the guard can recover, you backhand him with your bow then knock him backward with a front kick.

“Black Falcon!” Robin calls, then flings a guard toward you.

You fire an arrow into the guard’s shoulder and knee, the man collapsing to the ground with a scream.

“We’ve gotta figure out how to destroy that computer without blowing up the building,” You grab Robin’s arm. “Come on, before they send more guards!”

Robin nods, running back to the computer room with you, emptying the small explosives he carries with him.

“These will take out some of the systems, but it won’t destroy the whole thing,” Robin frowns, digging through his utility belt.

“What if I fire my explosive arrows at them? Between both of the explosives, that would be enough, right?”

Robin pauses to think for a moment then begins arranging the explosives in a specific pattern.

“Can you fire both of your explosive arrows at the same time?”

“Pft, easily.”

Robin nods then finishes arranging the explosives.

“We need to get to a higher vantage point,” He pauses, looking around the room, then spots a vent. “There.”

“Uh… You’re a little big for a vent, don’t you think?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at Robin’s broad shoulders.

“Getting into small, high places is Nightwing’s specialty. I am more than capable.”

You shrug.

“Whatever you say.”

“I’ve set the explosives to be a chain reaction. Fire at that one,” Then Robin points to the explosives at the top of the chain and you two make your way into the vent.

While it’s a tight squeeze for Robin, he’s true to his word and maneuvers expertly into the vent. The only feasible way to hold your bow is sideways, but you’ve shot sideways plenty of times.

“You ready, Bat Brat?” You ask.

Robin nods curtly, clearly unimpressed with the old nickname. You grin at him then fire at the explosives.

. . .

The rest of the mission goes smoothly. All of the people experimented on are getting medical attention, any of the Titans that were injured are being patched up, and there were no casualties. You don’t mind the Titans. Heck, you might even join the team.

Currently, you’re sitting on the roof of the tower, your feet dangling over the edge. While the Titans are cool, you enjoy your tall perches. You blame Roy for introducing you to the thrilling world of heights.

Someone silently sits down next to you. You don’t even have to turn your head to know who it is.

“You’ve got a good team, Dames,” You tell him.

“They’re adequate,” He says simply.

“That’s pretty high praise coming from you,” You tease.

Damian rolls his eyes.

“You were also… adequate on the mission.”

“Aw sucks, Dames. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Damian rolls his eyes again.

“You weren’t too bad yourself,” You tell him, bumping his shoulder. “You’re a good leader. This team is lucky to have you.”

You see Damian look down out of the corner of your eye. You turn to see him hiding a blush.

“Aw, Damian, are you blushing?” You tease, poking his cheek.

“Shut up!” Damian snaps, his face growing darker. He bats your hand away. “I’m not blushing!”

“Sure you’re not,” You grin, leaning back on your hands and admiring the city.

You two sit in silence for a few minutes, watching the sunset over the city. Maybe Roy and Kori are right. Maybe it’s time for you to join a team of your own…

“I…” Damian starts slowly. “I enjoyed having you in the field today.”

You look over at Damian with a shit-eating grin.

“Careful, Dames. With words like that, you might make me think you actually like me.”

Damian blushes again, looking irritated.

“Your personality is insufferable, but you have good skills.”

“Uh-huh,” You nod, not buying anything he is saying. “Is that why you’re sitting on the roof with me and not your teammates?”

Damian doesn’t say anything which only deepens your grin.

“I enjoyed today too. We work well together,” You say. “I think I’ll have to tag along on another mission soon.”

“...I’d like that,” Damian admits.

You grin again, laying your head on Damian’s shoulder.

“You know, you may be a cocky son of a bitch, but you’re alright, Dames.”

“You’re still insufferable,” Damian tells you but leans his head on yours anyways.

“I don’t know who you think you’re fooling with that line.”

“I don’t need to fool anyone, it’s the truth!”

“Uh-huh, Dames. Sure it is.”

Me? Write a Damian fic where I’m happy with his dialog and characterization? It’s more likely than I thought.

Part 2

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epiphany-of-a-madwoman · 3 years

Text

The Last Dragon | The Witcher

Chapter 14 | To Hunt a Monster

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 5k

Note: Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Also! My tag list is open! Double also! I took some liberties with the Alp, pls don’t hate me

Visenya swings her blade down, metal clanging against metal. A small bead of sweat runs down her forehead, falling from her brow bone and landing on the ground. She tosses her blade to the other hand, pulling it up just in time to block the incoming attack, their clashing swords forming a ‘T’. She nimbly moves to the side, and away from her opponent, breaking away from his sword. With otherworldly grace, Visenya whirls around in a half-circle, now standing behind him, pushing her blade forward to pierce through his back. He turns around, jumping back before the hit makes contact, pushing it out of the way with his own.

Metal rings in the clearing as they continue their deadly dance. Geralt kicks his leg out, centimeters away from hitting Visenya’s knees. She brings her blade down in a half crescent shape, smacking the side of his leg with the flat part of her blade. He grunts out a laugh, unbothered by the hit, but it allows Visenya to jump back from his assault.

“You’ll have to do better than that, White Wolf,” Visenya teases, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she awaits Geralt’s next move. He snorts and lunges towards her once more. She sidesteps him, using her smaller size to her advantage. She laughs, the sound blending yet also clashing with the sound of two blades meeting in a bind.

“You’re too arrogant,” Geralt says, pressing against her blade with more force.

He smiles, a smile that’s all teeth, nearly feral looking. Visenya's arm begins to shake, her strength quickly dwindling. But before she can attempt to pull back, Geralt suddenly drops his blade, the lack of resistance causing Visenya to stumble forward. At the same time, he sweeps his leg out, her stumble morphing into a fall.

Thud.

Visenya lands on her back, sword falling out of her hand. Without hesitation Geralt kicks it out of her reach, pointing his sword at her throat.

“It’ll get you killed.” His tone is grim, face set in a deep scowl. “--again,” he adds as an afterthought. Her confession from weeks ago is still fresh, pushed to the forefront of his mind every time he so much as glances at her.

“Well if you didn’t play cheap,” Visenya says, minor annoyance etching a deep scowl onto her face.

“There is no such thing as playing cheap when it comes to fighting. You either win or you don’t,” Geralt says, scolding her like a father would an unruly and stubborn child. But if he’s as old as Visenya thinks, she might as well be.

“Whatever,” Visenya mutters, not moving from her position on the ground, instead she moves her gaze upwards. Threads of dawn emboss the sky, rays of pink and orange tinting it, their vivid colors offset by opalescent clouds. It’s quiet, nearly too quiet, if not for her rapid inhale and exhale of breath.

“You’re good, but you’re too wild,” Geralt says. He tosses his blade aside, reaching a hand down to help her up. Her face flushes red from exerting too much energy, with breathes that're too quick, the spar taking more of her energy up than it should’ve. Then again, for years her only constant companion had been Jaskier, and he ended up pricking three of his fingers before even fully lifting a sword. That was the last time she attempted to arm him.

“Don’t patronize me,” Visenya says, blowing away the stray hairs that fell out of her ponytail and onto her face.

“I’m not. I’m giving advice. Besides--” Geralt looks over at her, the corners of his mouth slowly pulling into a grin. His slightly sharper teeth give his grin a wolfish appearance, predatory and mischievous in nature. “--when did you become such a sore loser?” Geralt teases.

“I don’t know, around the time you got slow,” Visenya responds, grabbing onto Geralt’s outstretched hand. But instead of using it to pull herself up, she yanks on it with all of her remaining strength, causing Geralt to tumble to the ground.

His eyes are wide with bewilderment and shock, a small giggle bubbling from Visenya’s mouth, taking special notice of the green grass that mingles with his tangled white hair. Geralt scoffs, but there’s a small smile on his face that betrays his amusement, small droplets of dew on his hair that glisten in the sun, like tiny beams of light.

Visenya sits up, repositioning herself to be more comfortable on the ground. Geralt follows suit, shaking his head like a dog. Brown twigs and emerald leaves fly in the air and disappear into the sea of green that’s now tinged with dark brown.

Geralt opens his mouth and laughs, it’s not overly loud and merry sounding, but it’s more than he normally gives. The sound echoes in the small clearing, dancing away in the wind to bless someone else’s ears with the soft sound. His eyes shine in the light, causing him to almost look ethereal. Visenya smiles, her heartbeat speeding up, ever so slightly, and for the life of her she can’t figure out why.

“I meant it, you're improving,” Geralt says, placing his arms on his knees and staring at the trees that surround them.

“Are you saying I was a bad swordsman before?” Visenya teases, the smile on her face quickly evaporates, however, when Geralt doesn’t return the mirth. She scoffs and smacks his arm. “You are saying I was a bad swordsman!” she exclaims, disbelief causing a small laugh to escape her mouth. Ser Rodrik trained her himself and before him, Jon. Two of the best swordsmen in the North trained her, a bad fighter is the absolute last thing Visenya would label herself as.

“No, just...chaotic,” Geralt says, seemingly unbothered by her assault.

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Visenya asks, raising a brow at him.

“No, but it’s the truth. You fight well, but you fight without control or discipline.” Geralt says.

“So I’m unruly?”

“Like a tornado or a wild animal,” Geralt says, a smirk on his face. Visenya rolls her eyes, smacking him once again - just for good measure. With a huff, she tightens her ponytail, pushing away the sweat coated baby hairs that stick to her forehead. She stands from the floor, walking towards the edge of the clearing where her leather bag is haphazardly resting against a tree. Crouching down and opening the main pouch, she pulls out two apples - one red and the other green. She tosses the red one in the air once, then launches it at Geralt as soon as it grazes her palm. He catches it with ease, not even bothering to look in her direction. Visenya smirks, taking a bite out of the remaining apple.

“Would you believe me if I said I was raised by wolves?” Visenya asks. There’s a smirk on her lips, a gleam in her eyes that says she’s in on a joke that no one else knows. And she revels in it.

“Yes,” Geralt simply replies, eyes wandering towards the sky, basking in the calm that seems so fleeting when on the road with a monster hunter.

“Well, I choose to take both of those answers as a compliment. It just means I’m a force to be reckoned with in - and out - of combat. I think my ancestor and namesake would come back from the dead just to murder me if I wasn’t a half-decent fighter,” Visenya says, staring up at the thick canopy above her. She inches closer into the forest, not committing to entering it completely, but getting close enough. The singing of birds in the distance soothing to her ringing ears, allowing her thoughts to pause if only for a moment.

“Hmm,” is Geralt’s only reply.

“She was a warrior queen, as comfortable in ringmail as she was in silks, as they say. She was legendary” Visenya says, wistfully staring into the trees, getting lost in the melancholy that usually follows when she thinks of her family.

She remembers the stories her Septa would tell her, and the old dusty books she’d find in the library. She can nearly taste the old stale dust that coated the books, flying into the air once her fingers made contact. But she also remembers her eyes desperately drinking in each word, fantasizing that she was the one flying on a dragon, so high in the sky no one could touch her.

Not Robert Baratheon, nor Tywin Lannister, not even The Mountain. But those were foolish daydreams of a child, who didn’t fully understand the nuances of things, nor how horrible some of her family truly had been.

“And I was named after her. Sometimes I feel like I’m not worthy of it. It’s not like there are a dozen other idiots with the same name - who are more foolish than the last, not like Aegon or Viserys,” Visenya mutters to herself, hardly even registering that Geralt is still keenly listening to her ramblings.

“I didn’t realize Jane was a family name,” Geralt says, his red apple still in hand, untouched. Visenya breathes out a laugh, the sound being swallowed by a strong gust of wind.

“No of course not, it’s Vise--” Visenya starts, but closes her mouth, turning to face Geralt who watches her with a curious gaze. She coughs, glancing at the trees one last time before returning her gaze to Geralt. “How do you know it wasn’t my ancestors that made the name popular?”

Geralt raises a brow, his expression showing how little he’s buying her pathetic save, but he doesn’t press the issue, thank the gods. Visenya continues biting into her apple, savoring not only each sweet bite but also the silence surrounding them.

“You’re light on your feet,” Geralt says after a moment. Visenya turns to look at him, a question on her face with raised ashen eyebrows. “Use that to your advantage. Most of your enemies will be much larger than you, bulkier. Which means they’re slower. Tire them out and run circles around them. You’ll never be able to beat them with brute force.” Geralt says, still looking towards the sky, eyes focusing on a particular bird.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

o0o0o

“So an alp?” Visenya says, tapping her fingers against the wooden surface of the table she sits at. Her posture is relaxed, languidly sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair. The room they’re renting is tiny, unbearably claustrophobic with the stench of stale air lingering in her nose at all hours. But it’s the only one in the small village, their size and lack of constant travelers not allowing for them to sink too much money in the rooms, opting to spend their coin on ale and food. At this point Visenya would rather stay in a brothel than here, at least they try to sell the idea of luxury and comfort - no matter how off the mark they may be.

“Hmm,” Geralt grunts, tossing his leather bag across the room. Visenya watches as it glides through the air like a cannonball before landing with a loud thump on the bed. She returns her gaze to Geralt, who moves across the room, towards her, a pitcher of ale in hand. He sets it on the table, the force of it causing small droplets of ale to splatter onto the table. The fire in the corner of the room crackles, forcing itself into their conversation like a bothersome sibling.

“Oh don’t tell me, I know this one. Let me see...alps are the ones who take humanoid forms to lure their victims and then they drink their blood until there’s nothing left, right? They also have the whole ‘saliva that puts its victims to sleep and can cause horrible nightmares’,” Visenya says, a slight smirk on her lips, eyes glowing with pride and self-satisfaction.

“You already know you’re right,” Geralt says, a lilt of amusement in his otherwise deadpan tone. Visenya smirks, grabbing a mug and pouring ale into it, careful to not spill any. She sets the jug back down, throwing her cup back and downing nearly all of it. The amber liquid is bitter, not as smooth and sweet as Cintran ale. It burns and not in a pleasant way. Her face scrunches up, lips puckering and eyes firmly shut, forcing the remaining liquid to go down her throat and not out her mouth.

“I know, doesn’t mean I don’t like receiving validation,” Visenya remarks after managing to swallow the swill disguised as ale, glancing towards the sole window in the room. The sun is starting to set, and swiftly, night time will come before either of them have a chance to blink. Visenya pushes back her chair, the wood screeching against the floors.

“Hmm,” Geralt simply replies, pouring a cup of ale for himself, and drinking it similarly as Visenya. However, he manages to keep any unpleasant expressions off his attractive face. Her eyes rest on his lips, gaze focusing on a droplet of ale that hangs precariously on his lips, nearly falling to the ground. A part of her wants to place her lips on his, to test if maybe the ale would be sweeter coming from his lips. But she snaps her eyes away quickly and banishes the thought, not wanting to linger on it for too long.

“So where are we off to,” Visenya asks. She turns away from the table, grabbing her pack and beginning to shuffle around in it. “I can’t remember where they take residence, so I can’t be help there but--” Visenya starts to ramble, but Geralt cuts her short.

“What do you mean?” Geralt asks, standing from his chair as well. Visenya turns around, her cloak in hand.

“I mean, where are we going? We are planning on killing this alp aren’t we?” Visenya asks, raising a brow at Geralt.

“I am going to kill the alp. You’re staying here,” Geralt says. His voice is stern, his mind set, leaving no room for argument. But Visenya has never been good at just sitting down and letting other people make decisions for her.

“Are you serious? You’re trying to keep me out of this?” Visenya says, disbelief lacing every word. She laughs, a mocking one that lacks any warmth or humor.

“You’re not ready for an alp,” Geralt says, maintaining his cool and unattached demeanor. Yet Visenya notices a faint twitch in his eye, annoyance with her constant need to question every choice he makes.

“Not for a nightwraith either, apparently. Yet I helped kill that too,” Visenya says, her temper flaring, fire lacing her words.

“And almost died in the process,” Geralt says, his voice rising just a hair. Visenya scoffs, rolling her eyes, staring at the ceiling for a second before returning her gaze to Geralt.

“Every situation that involves fighting also involves almost dying. That’s how fighting works, there’s always a chance you won’t come out alive,” Visenya says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“So you throw yourself into every fight, even the ones you don’t have the capabilities to win?” Geralt asks, sarcasm distorting his question.

“Precisely,” Visenya says, turning away from Geralt and throwing her traveling cloak over her shoulder, clasping it so it’ll stay on properly. She grabs her bag and sword, slinging the bag over her shoulder and attaching her sheath to her hip.

“You can throw yourself into suicide battles with someone else, you aren’t coming,” Geralt says, the volume of his voice continuing to rise.

“Yes, I am. What’s the point of me being around if I’m not being useful?” Visenya exclaims, stepping towards Geralt. She feels like a child again, being scolded for wanting to learn how to fight rather than perfecting her needlepoint or sewing skills.

“You can come on the next hunt,” Geralt says.

“That’s what you said last time, and the time before that, and the time before that!” Visenya yells, waving her arm in Geralt’s direction, emphasizing her anger and frustration.

“You weren’t ready any of those times!” Geralt counters. Visenya slams her fist against the wooden table, the impact causing the ale to nearly tip over. Pain blossoms on the spot that made contact with the table, but Visenya can’t be bothered by it at the moment.

“Damn it Geralt! Apparently, I’ll never be ready according to you,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. The candles in the room wildly flicker, nearly going out as the temperature in the room drops, subtly at first, until it’s nearly as cold in the room as the outside. Heat rises in Visenya, growing stronger with each passing moment. The smell of burning fills the room, light smoke wafting from the table into the air.

Like suddenly falling into ice, Visenya removes her hands from the table. There’s a clear burn mark in the vague shape of her fist, the wood lightly charred. She sighs, loudly, closing her eyes and relaxing her clenched fists. The warmth in the room returns, the candles flickering with life once more. Her heart pounds, mind completely blank.

Silence.

“I need air,” she mutters after a moment, not bothering to glance at Geralt. And before he can react, she flies out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

o0o0o

Night cloaks Visenya, hiding her from any prying eyes and wandering gazes that hold no good intentions. She pulls the cloak closer to her body, hood up and head down, eager to be free from this stifling small village. The air is cool, but it’s refreshing, easily tempering the fire in her.

“Get it together, Visenya!” she whispers, smacking a hand against her forehead, hoping the sting from the pain might smack some reason into her.

A child. That’s what she’s acting like. Screaming and throwing a tantrum when she doesn’t get what she wants. It’s irrational. And pathetic. Whining and crying won’t get Geralt to agree to let her come, but that doesn’t temper the frustration she feels when he won’t. She’s not a child, she’s a woman, who can make her own decisions. Why should Visenya need a keeper to tell her what battles to and not to get involved in?

She continues marching forward, quickly leaving the village and all her anger behind. The grass is longer, instead of brushing against her ankles, it reaches the middle of her calves in certain spots. The trees are thick, their lush canopy of leaves acting like a guardian protecting her in their beauty. It’s almost like the Godswood, but not nearly as beautiful, yet it evokes similar feelings in her. She deeply inhales, releasing it a moment later, allowing her tense body to melt and fly off with the breeze. Subconsciously, her hand grazes the embroidered direwolf, lightly tracing it with the tip of her finger.

Snap.

A twig cracks, echoing in the silence. Visenya pauses, head snapping up, eyes raking the surrounding area. Nothing but towering trees with shadows acting as cloaks. She turns around, hand ghosting over her sheathed blade. Her breathing is quick and uneven, hands shaking ever so slightly. Her lip trembles and she bites down on it, unwilling to show signs of fear or weakness.

“Who’s there?” she calls out. “Reveal yourself, now!” she demands, eyes scanning the path behind her.

Silence.

She lets out a breath, watching as it appears only to dissipate into the cold air. She lowers her hand from her weapon, moving down the path she came from, eager for the warmth and light the tavern offers.

Snap.

She world around, gold eyes blazing like a fire in the thick of night. The forest seems endless, shadows dancing at the corner of Visenya’s vision, mocking her with deafening silence and blinding loneliness.

“I said, who is there.” Her voice is stone, not allowing even a glimmer of fear to seep into it. It cuts through the darkness like a freshly sharpened knife, her voice echoing far beyond what vision can perceive.

Snap.

Another twig, this time closer than the previous two. Like she’s made of air, Visenya quickly turns, but instead of stifling nothingness, a figure stands a few inches away. It’s a woman, with blood-like hair flows over her bare shoulders, the tips of it resting on its stomach. Her skin is pale, nearly grey in hue, but what’s most alarming isn’t her lack of clothing nor the murder in her eyes, but the blood splattered all over her. Some of it is dry, coating parts of her body like armor, while a few splatters appear to be fresh, still dripping off its body and splashing onto the ground.

It smiles a twisted smile that perfectly displays all her sharp teeth, tinted crimson from the blood.

An alp.

“Fuck.”

They move in unison, Visenya unsheathing her blade as the woman - or creature - lunges forward. It proves to be faster, body-slamming her to the ground. Its hands grab a hold of Visenya’s nails digging into her flesh. She screams but clamps her mouth shut, not willing to feed the lust for blood and pain in the creature’s eyes. It snarls, pushing against Visenya’s arms with inhuman strength, pressing them onto the damp ground. It hisses, droplets of drool tainted with blood falling onto Visenya’s face. She thrashes, attempting to force the beast off of her.

Her eyes feel heavy, suddenly, the desire to sleep and never wake up washing over her like a tsunami. But she fights against it.

‘If I sleep now, I’m dead. Stay. Awake,’ she keeps repeating in her head, willing the words to manifest into reality.

It hisses once more, almost mockingly. It leans down, inches away from sinking her teeth in Visenya’s throat. Visenya lifts her head, siphoning all the strength she can manage and smashes her forehead against the beast. It wails, falling back in pain, allowing Visenya to scramble out from under it. The creature continues to scream, the noise deafening. The sound causes her insides to twist and her head pound, to the point that she fears it might burst. She grabs the sides of her face with both hands, hoping to muffle the sound and make the pain stop. She closes her eyes, thoughts blurring together, as memories she only sees in her dreams fare to life in her head.

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Visenya of House Targaryen, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.” Jaime Lannister’s face appears in her vision, a much younger version than the one she’d last seen. His gold hair is soft and thick, falling perfectly into place. He holds a wooden sword in one of his hands, resting the flat part of it on her shoulder.

Visenya giggles, the noise hazy and unclear. She stands from her kneeling position, curtseying to Jaime, stumbling forward, and nearly face planting.

“Thank you, good ser,” she replies, a beaming smile on her childish face. He kneels, so his eyes meet hers. He holds out the small wooden sword, the size suited for a child of five.

“Now go, protect your mother Queen. It is your duty as a sworn member of her Queensguard,” he says.

“Fuck!” she screams. She rapidly blinks, attempting to force the images away. There’s too much danger, too much at stake to lose focus for even a second. The creature prowls towards Visenya, grabbing onto her leg and pulling her body towards it. Like a sack of grain, her body drags in the mud towards the monster. Visenya is powerless to fight back, only able to pray that the pain in her mind and body will go away. The creature flips her body: back against the ground and face looking towards the sky. She kicks her legs, managing to miss the alp each time. Its hands continue to move up Visenya’s body as it pulls her closer.

“Where are we going, Ser Jaime? Shouldn’t you be protecting my grandfather?” Visenya asks, rushing to keep up with Jaime’s longer strides.

“I need to show you something,” he says, voice grim but not harsh, yet it lacks the mirth normally present. He stops outside a door, and in her desperation to catch up, she nearly smacks into his legs, but narrowly avoids it since Jaime stops her body. He opens the door, which creaks loudly as it swings fully open. They’re in a room Visenya is all too familiar with, her mother’s chambers.

“Why are we--” Visenya begins, but cuts herself off as Jaime moves into the room. He strides through it, eyes focusing on one wall in particular. She rushes after him, eyes alight with curiosity she needs to sate.

He stops in front of a wall, crouching down. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge Visenya, even as her smaller feet patter against the stone floor, getting closer to him. She pauses only when she stands beside Jaime, grabbing his arm with one hand, placing her small head on his armored shoulder. A wall, there’s nothing else there but a wall; yet his eyes trace it intently, searching for something she can’t see.

“A wall?” Visenya asks brows furrowed with a small pout on her lips.

“It’s not just a wall, look.” Jaime runs his hand down the wall, pausing on one spot. He digs his fingers into it, grasping onto… something. Visenya watches with wide eyes as a portion of the wall slides open, revealing a small opening in the wall - large enough to fit a child and no more. “A crawlspace.”

“Why’d you show me this? I don’t need to hide?” Visenya asks, tilting her head to the side in confusion. She turns and looks at Jaime, her nose twitching slightly as she looks up at him.

“You will. The war isn’t going well, and if the city is attacked I need you to promise you’ll hide here?” Jaime pleads, speaking in a hushed tone, keeping the words hidden in her mother’s chamber.

“I don’t--” Visenya starts, but is cut off before she can argue further.

“Promise me,” Jaime says again, his voice more pleading and desperate. It’s a funny sight thinking back on it with adult eyes and a jaded mine: the lion begging for something, throwing aside all pride and appearances of regalness.

Visenya hesitates, watching him carefully for a moment, eyes too sharp for a child of five.

“I promise.”

Visenya slams her head against the dirt ground, trying to get the distant memories out of her head, hoping to force her body to stay awake and not succumb to sleep. Long, sharp, dirtied nails grab a hold of her shirt, pulling up her upper body. It snarls, lunging its face towards Visenya’s neck.

Searing hot pain spreads through her body. Yet it doesn’t leave her on fire, instead, it’s numbing like ice. Momentarily, the pain it’s screech caused is soothed, only to return tenfold. It’s like a million daggers are stabbing into her body, over and over again, in the dead of winter. She begins convulsing, screaming, louder than before.

“Well, if it isn’t little Visenya. Look at you, you’re not a child anymore, no, you’re fully grown, fighting Robb Stark’s little war,” Jaime Lannister says, sarcasm and mocking lacing every word. He lifts his dirt-caked face, looking up at Visenya with wide green eyes that somehow manage to still sparkle, even in all the filth that surrounds them.

“Shut up. I didn’t come here to talk to you,” Visenya says, keeping her voice as cool and calm as the winter winds. Her voice is low as to not alert any nearby guards, allowing the heavy wind to obscure most of her words.

“Really? Come to just see the spectacle then? See the state of the man who killed your grandfather and ruined your life?” Jaime spits, but he lacks any real venom. He’s like a lion, trying to make himself appear as large as possible in hopes of avoiding real conflict. Visenya ignores him, however, moving closer into his cell without fear.

“Or maybe you want to laugh?” Jaime mutters, banging his head against the post he’s chained to

Silence is his only response. Visenya moves further into his cell, holding something cold and metal in her hands that glints in the moonlight. Once she’s within arm's length from Jaime, she crouches onto the ground, purple meeting green.

“Well come one, don’t leave--” Jaime begins, but promptly shut his mouth, tightly clenching his jaw with furrowed brows.

Thud.

The metal chains fall to the ground, inches away from Jaime. His eyes follow the chains that no longer bound him, lines of confusion appearing on his forehead underneath the dirt and blood on it.

“Thank you, for my life,” Visenya mutters. Jaime moves his gaze back to her, and in her glossy eyes, he softens his armor - if only for a moment. Visenya begins to shake, like a leaf in a storm, remembering the simpler times that she ran around The Red Keep like a wild animal, and when Jaime Lannister wasn’t enemy number one to her family. Then like the wind, Visenya turns, quickly disappearing into the night.

She tries to headbutt the creature again, but she can’t move her head far enough to attempt it.

‘Fire, use fire!’ Visenya yells at herself, willing the flames that usually dance under her skin to flare to life. But nothing happens. She closes her eyes, focusing harder this time, trying to replicate the feelings swirling in her mind when she argued with Geralt. Tries to reign in the adrenaline from the Cintran Betrothal Feast or even the anger and grief she was drowning in at Blaviken.

Nothing, not even a flicker of heat.

She lets out a cry of frustration as the alp continues to drain her of blood. The world becomes dark, eyes heavier than previously. She continues to shake, trying to fight off the beast, even when her limbs feel like dead weight. Moments later, everything begins to feel light, the pain and fear slowly slipping away until she feels nothing at all. Eventually, her eyes flutter closed, the world turning black.

o0o0o

Tags: If your name is crossed out, it means I wasn’t able to tag you.

#geralt fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia #the witcher #geralt of rivia fanfic #the witcher crossover #game of thrones crossover #game of thrones #Crossovers #fanfiction #the last dragon #Sami talks #sami writes #sami writes the witcher

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curious-menace · 3 years

Note

The rogue gallery members general reaction to encountering the batman who laughs and his creepy ass Robin's.

ok id like to preface this by saying that red death batman straight up crucified riddler and decapitated scarecrow and the batman who laughs is MUCH worse than red death batman.

i want to enjoy the dark knights metal but it is needlessly fuckin complicated with all this multiverse oververse omniverse shit. maybe i just don't have the galaxy brain necessary to get it so i apologize if this is all wrong

(also i know its canon that the batman who laughs has no rogues gallery left, either because he killed them or joker killed them before he turned but hey ho hypotheticals it is)

also no one talk to me about kiss fan lookin riddler from this verse. im not ready.

Penguin

i think his first reaction was to laugh. Batman’s finally gone and he took joker with him. I mean he literally calls him "bat gimp". I seriously doubt he anticipated the fallout of batman becoming some sort of hideous joker hybrid. he still chuckled when he started seeing the news. someone calling themselves “the batman who laughs” and “the darkest knight” then he sees the robins, he even recognises damien and it makes him a little sick. he books the next flight out of goodwin before things get too hot.

shame goodwin was burned to the ground to stop anyone leaving gotham.

with everyone inside.

Twoface

i dont think its an exaggeration to say he was absolutly fuckin horrified. it's rare that harvey and two face agree on something, but this bastard has to go. the murder and mayhem he could tolerate, hell even killing the other rogues, some of them needed to be stopped. but having to look at this creature and know it was once bruce? harvey knows better than anyone its a fate worse than death to be trapped in your own mind with someone else running the show. they do their best to stop the darkest knight, bring all the hired guns they can to the fight but it wasnt enough. Harvey dies, but at least he went out trying to do the right thing.

Poison Ivy

She sensed him coming, her flowers screaming at her to save herself. part of me wants to hope she took one look at that abomination and noped the fuck out of there to slaughter swamp or something. but we know ivy, she stands her ground like a tree planted by a river. she looks people like batman and joker right in the eye and down the barrel of a gun and says “no, you move” Shes not a good person, but in this verse she might as well be the hero of the story, maybe the only meta human in gotham who stood a chance against him. The batman who laughs was scared of her and thats why she had to die. if she’d just minded her own business she might still be here but no. She dares the batman who laughs to come for her, she’s going to take him out. for what he did to her plants, to gotham, to HER home and HER friends. unfortunately for her ivy was one of the first on his kill list. She doesn't go down without a fight. ironically it was her human qualities, the human drive to help people that got her killed. she heard one of the robins crying and went to investigate. the batman who laughs doesn't care about those robins, he’s got a basement full of jokerized kids to throw at people. 1 to trick her and a few more to hold her down while he doused the lot of them with weedkiller and gasoline then poof.

i doubt the botanical gardens will ever be the same.

Scarecrow

part of me wants to say he’s loving this. He’s enjoying all the suffering and sadness and fear as the batman who laughs murders everyone and everything from the dandelions upwards . but he cant, not just because he’s not the one causing it. this is fear without meaning or purpose, this is killing hope so thoroughly that there is nothing left for people to fear, not even death. he’s not so foolish as to think he wont also be on the batman who laughs chopping block. so he makes himself scarce, works on a toxin that might be able to stop him or even slow him down so someone has a shot at it. Jon knows hes going to die, its only a matter of time before that thing calling itself the darkest knight sends one of his minions to his doorstep. He’s been working on something to try and help the rabid robins. he has a small soft spot in his cold obsidian heart for kids and looking at these creatures makes him physically ill.

he thinks hes made a breakthrough, thinks he’s finally got a formula that will effect batman and the joker and hopefully, whatever abomination they’ve become . he decides theres no time like the present to try it out when word of the other rouges deaths reach him. he’s the last one left and thats....well its scary. His surprise attack works, the robins go down without a fight, screaming and scratching at their faces, their throats and each other. regrettable but if he stops the darkest knight now, maybe jon can help them. Just when he thinks he’s got him, scarecrow goes down. so close, he falls at the finishing line, his toxin having as much effect as a gentle summers breeze. Much like the original scarecrow , the batman who laughs likes using guns. For jon however? he makes an exception. poor scarecrow gets eviscerated by his own scythe, pilfered from arkham asylum by the batman who laughs. gotta love the classics, right?

Riddler

Riddler was second on his kill list. only because the batman who laughs knew how much it would annoy riddler not to be at the top. He’s another rogue who stood a chance of stopping him if he really tried. sadly edward is nowhere near as altruistic as harvey, and could never be as strong as ivy. He likes to think his escape is for everyone's benefit. live to fight another day and all that. He learned from harvey and pamelas mistakes, took one look at this new batman and his creepy kids and said “fuck that noise” and tried to run. except he didn't really try. god if he’d only gotten out of the city, he would have been the only rogue that survived. the batman who laughs looks at him like a pathetic insect, unworthy of notice. he’d have killed riddler eventually, maybe put him in a riddle with no answer or a trap with no escape for extra irony points but he wasn't about to stop the little green cockroach from skittling away. but of course, riddlers ego got in the way; he just HAD to try and best this new batman, no matter how much he scared the shit out of riddler he just HAD to try. and of course, pride comes before downfall.

The batman who laughs helpfully provided riddler with some rope to help break his fall.

Harley Quinn

some part of her was happy to have joker back. he was different, scarier but she was used to the abuse. what she wasn't used to were all the kids. she recognised damian wayne but didn't quite put the pieces together to realise it was bruce under there. she thought maybe he was just a random casualty . she tried hard to look after the kids but they act like animals rather than humans, there was nothing she could do.As time went on she found it harder and harder to sit at the right hand of this clown prince of horrors. harley has always been along for the ride, but how are you supposed make the whole world laugh if everyone in it is dead? i dont know what happens to harley in this world. either she leaves and much like joker, the batman who laughs fails to notice, shes killed by him because he was bored or she does when the world is destroyed by barbatos. either way, no happy endings here.

Thanks for this incredibly depressing ask Ghostly T-T

im kidding, im kidding it was fun! it makes me wish i knew what the everloving FUCK was going on with this verse so i could enjoy it properly. the only comic store i know of has been closed since like march of last year and i don't know what im looking for on amazon to actually order them. i have 1 issue of nth metal but it was interesting enough that i want the collection.

if anyone knows what the collection is actually called hmu bc i wanna buy it.

yes i could read it online but i like owning the hard copies.

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm!💜💙🧡💛💚❤️

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Why the recent chapters of Attack on Titan are still good

This is probably an unpopular opinion but I just need to rant because I saw a tumblr answer here where someone actually compared the current Attack on Titan Chapters to GAME OF THRONES SEASON 8? REALLY.

As a victim of Game of Thrones season 8, I am so offended for Attack on Titan and for Isayama who is still doing a good job on delivering the story.

And a lot of my timeline really is a bubble of complaints with every new chapter released. They’re shitting on everyone dying and they’re shitting on the whole Eren killing everyone thing and so many female characters sidelined unfairly and Armin being tongued.

The Game of Thrones ending was an insult to its fans. It was lazy writing. Yams latest chapters were far GOT lazy and not a lot of what he is building up to here in the final chapters is unfounded or as illogical as Tyrion Lannister deciding that hiding people in a crypt is a good idea or Daenyrys deciding to burn down King’s Landing or Jamie Lannister going back to Circe and getting killed by rocks.

To be honest, the only thing I still have issues with is Hange dying in such a fashion (which hasn’t even been completely confirmed yet because the Beast Titan thing can still happen.)

But anyway, I’m gonna go through the complaints I see everyone on my timeline make every time a new chapter comes out and why they were pretty logical developments to the story as painful as they were.

Eren being Crazy and Everyone dying in the Rumbling

I just recently finished a rewatch of Season 3 Attack on Titan and the rumbling has been set up since then. There was one quote where “If the walls are disturbed, Karl Fritz threatens to release the titans inside the walls and flatten the world” and this was mentioned so early into the show as Season 3. And what happened at the start of the show? Colossal titan smashes walls, Eren’s mother dies, Eren goes crazy, 9 years later he starts the rumbling. Very Logical. Not at all unfounded. In fact, hinting at the rumbling so early into the story is pretty genius story writing. Making Eren responsible for the rumbling, masterful writing and masterful progression too.

Armin being Tongued

I brought this up in a previous post already but tongueing Armin like that when they wanted to kidnap him was the most logical choice. You know what’s lazy writing? Or a plothole? Not tongueing Armin because that brings up the question of “Why didn’t Armin just bite his tongue to turn into the colossal titan?”

Levi being Useless and Injured

Okay, We understand Levi was supposed to be built up to some big character. But Yo, he survived an explosion less than a week ago. Of course he wouldn’t be able to fight. And of course he’d start coughing blood and almost dying in the middle of the battle. Wouldn’t it be more of a plothole if Levi just started going beyblade against them? Maybe it’s an unpopular opinion but the fact that Yams still put a spotlight on the gravity of Levi’s injury felt far better for me than if Yams just set it aside and made Levi fight like normal. Because Levi shouldn’t be fighting like normal? Especially after being bed ridden the past 7 chapters.

“I feel like he’s just being dragged around.” The manga isn’t over, Yams will let something play out. I have no idea what it is but Yams has plans for Levi and I’m pretty sure the plans will still be better than what happened to Jon Snow.

Hange being dead

I’m probably just being a Beast Titan Theory Simp now but... The manga isn’t over, Yams will let something play out. If Hange’s death isn’t further explained, this will definitely be a flaw in my book.

Hisu being Pregnant

As painful as this was, it had been set up since before. Eren mentioned it multiple times that he did not want to tell anyone about the royal blood because he knew they were going to turn Historia into a baby mill which was exactly what happened. Eren Kruger said the same thing when they turned Dina Fritz into a titan. The “unfair tratment” of Historia’s character is just the mastery of a Chekhov’s gun being shot and a beloved character being the victim.

Falco and Gabi being Overpowered?

Mikasa and Eren were pretty overpowered too in the first season as kids. This is probably an Anime only flaw but Eren should not have been able to beat Annie or Reiner with the limited training he had yet we still accept that as fact because yo why not.

And Falco and Gabi swooping in to take over a lot for them is setting up to be a bigger thing. Yams will not introduce kids as important characters if he did not have plans for them. Falco being the first flying titan has been set up since chapter 90 and really, what would be the point of it if he didn’t save their ass at least once right.

The Final Battle is Being Dragged on for Too Long

So, I’m assuming you want a Game of Thrones-esque final battle where Gabi just swoops in and stabs him in the back and he dissipates into pieces like the NIght King which only lasts two episodes? And they decide to go back for the rest of the chapters and play Quidditch? The pacing is not at all bad. So far, I don’t see Isayama doing some asspull with what’s been happening. The ending will not be the happiest but we kinda should have expected that when the story started with a massacre in Shiganshina.

Why are people so surprised and offended that Yams is hurting their favorite characters? Why is what happens to our favorite characters the measure of whether or not something is trash. While I’m at it, why is how Isayama treats his characters a measure of whether or not Isayama is “messed up” or “trash” too? (Like seriously, can we put personal insults at the author out of this?)

The writing is flawed but it’s far from a mess. It’s still very tight. The progression is still very logical. They literally introduced the show to us with a massacre in Shiganshina district and people have been dying left and right since the show started. Why are people so bothered about the blood and the gore in the finale and where their favorite characters are. Fine, we’re all attached. I’m bothered too. But why is what’s happening to the characters, a measure of whether a chapter is good or not? In fact, shouldn’t the final battle be that gory anyway? It would have just been a crazy disappointment if they tuned it down right?

It’s painful to watch our characters go through this but to be honest, at this rate, I honestly admire Isayama for having the courage to kill off and destroy characters like this left and right. In fact, the fact that Isayama is so willing to do these to his characters knowing they are fan favorites is a true testament to someone who writes for themselves more than anything and are completely faithful to their story. This is something which should actually be admired.

The characters were not at all Game of Thrones levels of butchered. The characters developed like expected and they were set up in very ingenious ways. They all just became a victim to the circumstances laid out before them which have been set up a hundred chapters ago already.

So are the people who are complaining angry about the circumstances? But the current circumstances don’t necessarily mean the chapters and the quality of the story are trash right?

So are they latest chapters trash? No they’re not. IN FACT THEY ARE SO FAR FROM GAME OF THRONES ENDING LEVEL TRASH.

Are their circumstances trash? Yes. Their circumstances are trash.

Is Isayama being lazy? To a degree.

But mind you, it has not been confirmed yet how many more chapters there will be. Isayama admitted that he hadn’t even completely storyboarded the ending. The director of the anime and the editor still have no idea when Yams plans on ending it.

I have my own qualms and complaints about the ending too and where this is going but so far, I’m seeing a net positive quality wise. A lot of the complaints IMO are unfounded.

The claim that AOT is reaching GOT levels of trash? Unfounded IMO

The claims that Isayama is fucked up, messed up an asshole over how he chooses to end his story. Completely unfounded. Why the hell are we attacking the creator over what and how he chooses to end his story?

I know a lot of people probably won’t agree with me on this but genuinely I have been enjoying the latest chapters even with my favorite characters getting hurt left and right. The quality of the story is still good, Isayama still manages to tie up a lot of the loose ends. He still manages to keep a lot of his characters in character.

Like all of you though, I’m praying the ending won’t disappoint.

#attack on titan #snk spoilers 135 #snk 132 #snk 134 #snk 135 #levi ackerman #historia reiss #hange zoe #snk spoilers #game of thrones #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #eren jaeger #shingeki no kyojin

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dany-is-my-queen · 4 years

Text

Born To Be Yours | Part I

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 1,494

Note: It’s been a while now since I wanted to post this, I had this idea for around two months, I really hope you enjoy reading it as I enjoy writing it, I’ll might take some time to finish it but have for sure that I’m not leaving this series behind, it’ll end with season 8. I changed a few things, so it’s canon and au. Let me know if you like it!

Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

You arrived at Winterfell, all the way here Joffrey was complaining, your little siblings were excited to see the North for the first time and you were too.

“I hope this northerner bitch is worth the cold.” Joffrey shivered.

“You shouldn’t talk that way of your future queen, brother.”

“None of your business Y/N, besides you could find here your true love, that bullshit you always dreamt about.” He mocked and you rolled your eyes.

“Perhaps I will.”

You were riding your horses and spotted the castle in front of you, the cold weather on your skin, does a coat really help? You entered by the gates and recognised the Stark family, a little boy beside her mother, the lord and lady, the eldest son, a tall redhead girl, a tiny girl who had a smirk on her face and another kid by her side. They seemed very close to each other, you hoped you have that. Your family was all scattered, your mother cared for you, obviously, you were her daughter but despite that it always felt like she put you beneath the rest of your siblings, your father was the one who taught you how to use a sword and a bow, he was more fond of you, Joffrey hated you, Myrcella and Tommen both loved you so much, uncle Jaime also gave you lessons with the sword fighting, he wasn’t so cold to you, uncle Tyrion adored you, he always give you lessons you will use when you grow up, and your grandfather... he didn’t exactly despise you.

“Winterfell is yours”. Lord Stark said to your father.

“Y/N, see that handsome boy?!” Your sister muttered excitedly, looking upon the one called Robb. “Someday I want to marry a man like him.”

“Oh my dear Myrcella, you will find a man that deserves you, I promise.”

“You should pick him, he seems to be a gentlemen, wouldn’t that be nice?” You just chuckled.

You were on your room unpacking your stuff, you’ve always been the kind that likes to do things herself, your handmaidens just helped you when you asked them or when you were with your family so they don’t tell you you are a princess and everyone is at your service, but that make you feel useless. There was a feast in the night, you prepared and go with everyone.

You sat beside your brother, he was a pain in the ass, but you’ve always behaved in these events, you’ve always been so proper compared to him.

“Enjoying the evening?” He didn’t listen, then you noticed he was staring at the oldest Stark girl. She is quite beautiful to be honest. Her hair was stunning, just like fire. She was staring at him too with a grin. Suddenly the little one threw a piece of cake on her cheek and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Arya!” She screamed.

Truth be told, a lot of lords from all Westeros tried already to wed you to his sons, your excuse was “I’m still young, I don’t want to get compromised so soon” or “I don’t think he is the one” and you were grateful that your mother didn't pressure you into it. You knew having preferences for women didn’t go well, you didn’t really care, as long as it’s someone you can trust and love there shouldn’t be any problem, just a few people thought like you.

Your mother and Lady Stark were having a conversation, soon you became the main topic.

“So, Princess Y/N is not betrothed to anyone yet?”

“She’s on age, but I’ll make her a match with someone of our status.” Cersei was serious and Lady Catelyn just agreed. “My love, come over here.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Stark, thank you for your hospitality, your home is a lovely place.”

“You have a very well mannered daughter, your grace.”

“Indeed.” Your mother said proudly.

You excused yourself and went outside where uncle Tyrion was speaking with a lad.

“There’s my favourite niece.” He held a globet on his hand, the boy raised his head to peer at you. “This is Jon Snow, Lord Stark’s bastard.”

“Oh well, nice to meet you, Jon.” He was handsome you give him that.

“Likewise, princess.” He made a curtesy.

“Why are you not inside?”

“I don’t fit it.” He shrugged.

“I believe you are a good man, Snow, you should prove them wrong.”

The next morning you wake up with the news about one of the Stark boys fell from the tower, Bran was his name, you’ve heard he was a very good climber but didn’t want to listen about how dangerous it was. Hopefully he’ll recover the conscience, even if there are more consequences, you had a hunch it wasn’t an accident but who would want to hurt the little lord?

“What a tragedy.” Tyrion nodded slowly.

“Is he going to be okay?” Tommen asked and you couldn’t tell, only the Gods know.

“It was a long fall, my little lion, let’s pray.” Your mother answered with a suspicious and uncertain tone in her voice.

Before you left, Robb came to offer you a quick walk that you gladly accepted. You were holding on to his arm.

“My princess, I’ve heard only good things about yourself, you truly are one of a kind.”

“Oh my Lord, sadly we couldn’t speak much, get to know each other better.” He turned to face you.

“Maybe one day, when our paths cross again I hope.” You smiled.

“Farewell, Princess Y/N, safe travel.” Jon approached next to your horse.

“Farewell, Jon Snow, good luck on the Night’s Watch.”

Soon you were heading back to King’s Landing with Lord Stark as the new hand of the King, Arya and Sansa. You really wanted to get close to the girls, have a friendship with them.

You were practising with sticks next to a river, the little Stark and the butcher’s son were fighting one other, you saw Joffrey approached with Sansa.

“What do we have here?”

“None of for business, brother, go away.” You looked at Sansa who was frighten.

“A butcher’s boy who wants to be a knight.” Joffrey put out his sword and cut the boy’s cheek. “And you are hitting both my lady’s sister and my own, who is a princess.” Arya strike him and a direwolf came from nowhere biting your brother’s wrist.

“Please, let him go.” You entreat and she and the wolf ran away. “Are you okay, crybaby?” He just sniffed with terror in his eyes.

“Bring help!” He yelled, Sansa went off running while you stayed with him. “That’s what happens when you try to be bold, you’re not.”

Later you all were inside and started to argue about the truth of the earlier situation.

“That’s not what happened!”

“Yes, it is.”

Your mother had a evil look on her face. “Sansa come here darling.”

After the lies she told, you weren’t sure why she was defending him, you finally got your chance to speak.

“I was there too, remember? We were just playing around, after your son tried to hit Arya and insulted her.” Your father knew you were telling the truth.

“Y/N is no liar, it’s done.”

“What about the beast that attacked him? That one might have escaped but there’s another.” Your mother wrapped Joffrey’s arm and glare furiously at you.

“No! That’s an innocent animal, you won’t hurt them, mother please.” You begged but didn’t seem to change her mind nor your brother’s. Sansa was already crying and also begging her father to stop it. “Please no Lady, she didn’t bite anyone.” Your intents were useless when Lord Eddard was about to finish this matter. You were so mad, to see how far they always go to show they are better.

“Let the wolf go, she won’t stay with Lady Sansa, at least let it live.” You implored hoping your father would accept.

“Deal.” Was all he said before leaving the room.

Once you arrived to the capital, you went to check on the Stark girls.

“Do you need anything?” You asked sounding the most polite you could.

“We’re fine, thank you.” The redhead answered first with annoyance in her tone. Their Septa scolded her. “Don’t be rude with your princess, Sansa, she’s being gentle.” “Forgive her, princess Y/N.” You nodded.

“It’s quite alright, I don’t think we’ve been introduced before, my lady, I’m Y/N Baratheon as you already know but when we are alone you can call me Y/N.” You said with a light smile.

“I’m sorry, princess Y/N, I’m still sad because of Lady.”

“I wished I could have done more.” Arya putted a hand on your shoulder.

“You are nothing like your family, I can tell, I like you.”

“And I like you, little lady, I’m sorry about your friend too.” Ned sat and you stand up to take your leave.

#sansa stark x reader #sansa x reader #game of thrones fic #got #house baratheon #baratheon reader

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schnoogles · 4 years

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Tales of the Stranger written for the @jonsa-halloween event! Day 3: Tales/The Stranger Read on Ao3

Ever since Lady's death, Sansa has felt like she's been cut off from the Old Gods. And she no longer believes in the Faith of the Seven. Except maybe one. So she prays to the Stranger after her family’s death. She prays for everything and they all get answered. Joffrey's death, escaping King's Landing, her family's return, finding Jon, resurrecting Jon. Unfortunately, the Stranger doesn't give gifts freely. They all have consequences.

“I don't pray anymore.” She had told Tyrion. But it was a lie. Oh, Sansa prayed alright. But not to the Old Gods who had cut her off, just as her Father cut off Lady’s head. They showed her no kindness. And not to the usual Seven either. Father, Warrior, Smith, Mother, Maiden, Crone? Useless. There was no mercy and justice for she has been forsaken. So she turned to the last face. The one whom she feared most as a little girl. The Stranger.

Perhaps her neglect of him is the cause of the tragedy that befell her family. People said that praying to the Stranger could be dangerous though. That it was taboo and that he took more than he gave. But she didn’t care if those stories were true or not. If they were, Sansa would gladly go into his welcoming arms if it meant her torment in King’s Landing was over. So she prayed. She prayed that he would take care of the family that she had lost. And she prayed that he would leave Arya alone. She prayed he’d leave Jon alone.

Jon never gave much thought to the Gods. Sure he’d send a prayer here and there, but if the Old Gods deemed it right to take his Father and brother, even Lady Catelyn, did he really want to send prayers to them? So he took a page out of Sansa’s book: he turned to the Seven. Specifically the Stranger. If the Old Gods could no longer keep his family safe in this world, perhaps the Stranger could keep them safe in the next. Thinking of Sansa made his heart ache. Ache for the family he lost. For the family he never knew. Family. His mother. Did she pray to the Seven as well?

When Joffrey died, she didn’t have time to light a candle in thanks for her prayers. But once she settled in the Vale, she made sure to offer a prayer each night to the one face of the deity who heard and answered her pleas.

But nothing good can last, for she had forgotten the songs and tales about the Stranger. He takes just as much as he gives. So while he took Sansa away from King’s Landing, he gave Arya back to Winterfell, right into the arms of the Bolton’s. When she heard the news, she knew her time as Alayne Stone was over. She gathered the Lords Declarant and revealed herself: Sansa Stark, trueborn daughter to Ned and Catelyn Stark, an heir to Winterfell. With their support, and more from the Northern Houses she gathered along the way, Sansa took back Winterfell in the name of Stark.

The Stranger proved once again to have answered her prayers. Arya was not harmed by the hands of the Bolton’s. And the Stranger proved once again that the tales of his give and take were true. Arya was not harmed because she was not there, her truest and oldest friend was: Jeyne Poole. With Jeyne healed and by her side, she learnt a great deal. Theon had not murdered her brothers. More prayers of thanks were sent to the Stranger. But, as usual, the Stranger’s gifts always come in two. With news of her surviving brothers came news of her losing a brother. House Reed came and declared their fealty, along with a declaration of a long kept secret: Jon Snow was not her brother. He was her cousin. A forgotten Targaryen. And Targaryens had this unfortunate ability to die before their time.

Before Hardhome, Jon hadn't thought to bother with prayers. After Hardhome, he prayed to any deity that would listen. Don’t let this be how we all end. If anything, he needed to fight for the family that was left. For Arya. For Sansa. He thought his prayers were answered. Uncle Benjen was back! But the gods do love their cruel jokes. He felt like every prayer he sent out was returned with a stab through his body.

As he slowly slipped away, he saw flashes of everything he loved. Arya with her needle. Sansa brushing Lady’s fur. Lady. Ghost. “Ghost,” he whispered. He saw the Stranger then. No, don't take me, he thought. His life wasn’t finished yet. He doesn’t even know who his mother is. His mother.

It was like he was looking through someone else’s eyes. It was Ghost. It wasn’t Ghost. He saw his father, Ned Stark. But not your father, a sinister voice whispered. Suddenly, there were wolves. Then dragons. Wolves again. The Wolves will come again. Who is Jojen Reed? He saw green flames licking at castles. Then nothing. Then he saw hair. Such vibrant, fire-kissed hair. Then more nothing. A dragon hiding in wolfskin the sinister voice returned. Jon was a dragon? But his father was a wolf. Not his father. Then he saw Arya. But not Arya. A woman who looked just like him, standing next to a man who looked nothing like him. Forbidden. The tragedy that followed that union was too much. Too much too much too much. Jon Snow saw nothing.

Then he opened his eyes. So pretty. Sansa?

With Winterfell back under Stark rule, the Houses gathered there. It was time to make their stand. The North Remembers. They’ll be an independent kingdom once more. It was through Lord Manderley that she learned of Rickon’s fate. Her brother was alive. When her sister heard she took back Winterfell, she came home. The Stranger truly answered Sansa’s prayers. Her family was slowly growing back. With as much laughter as there were tears, the sisters reconciled. But the scales must be balanced. When Rickon was brought back to them, word of Jon’s death was brought as well. Trusting Lord Royce and Lady Mormont with the protection of her brother, Sansa and Arya departed to Wall, set on bringing Jon Snow’s body home, because brother or cousin, he was still family.

They reached Castle Black and it was in a disarray. But with two Stark daughters and a retinue of loyal Northerners, the Watch was quickly set straight again, with the mutineers put in the cells. The Lady Melisandre said she could bring him back, and Sansa, tempted with the idea of her family whole once more, insisted she do so. During the ritual, she sent a silent prayer to the Stranger, begging for forgiveness as she took something he already claimed as his.

She smiled at him when he woke. Her heart fluttered when he uttered her name. And then dread filled her. The Stranger gave back Jon, but at what price?

Wrong wrong wrong. He knew it but he couldn’t stop it. He woke and hugged his sisters. Not his sisters. One embrace filled him with memories of a past he longed for. The other filled him with a promise for a future he didn’t dare dream for. Wrong. Jon Snow had prayed and prayed for a family. For a name. For a love. For a purpose. Jon Snow should be careful what he prays for.

At every corner of Winterfell, he saw her. Her and her pretty fire-kissed hair. And when he saw her, he couldn’t stop staring. Her kindness in the weeks he took recovering back inside the walls of Winterfell are forever ingrained in his soul. The way she looked at him. The way she smiled at him. The way she touched him. Forbidden.

He growled at every man who questioned her leadership. Threatened any and all who looked at her wrong. Wrong. She was his, but not his. Some noticed. Some didn’t. Arya did.

“You love her?” It wasn’t a question of if he did or didn’t. It was a question of how. He mistook the look of concern in her eyes for distrust and that made him wish the Stranger hadn’t heard his prayers and took him instead. Before she could say anything, the horn of the front gates sounded off. A traveler.

Bran was back. That night, Sansa lit as many candles and gave as many offerings as she could. It was like the Stranger was slowly restoring House Stark. She had her family back. Her Rickon back. Her Bran. Her Arya. Her Jon. No. Not her Jon. She supposes she can’t begrudge the Stranger’s idea of a joke. He gave her Jon, but gave Jon her heart. No matter, what’s done is done. Let her love go unrequited if it meant Jon was alive and well.

But again. The Stranger and his jokes. She had her home and her family. But did she get them back only for them to be taken away again? A Night’s King. Ice-covered undead. A Targaryen Queen. Fire-breathing dragons. The world’s cruelties seemed to never end.

As the Lady of Winterfell and Queen Regent of the North, for Bran abdicated and Rickon was too young, she was looked at for taking lead in the planning for the many future battles. Of course, she had Arya and Jon in charge of the actual battle plans. She was no expert and they were. Food and people, clothing and numbers. That's where her expertise was. They couldn’t spare riders, for every man counted. So Bran was assigned to warg into nearby animals to keep watch on both fronts. Enemies to the North and enemies to the South. Despite consequences, Sansa prayed.

He fought and he fought and he wouldn’t stop. Not if stopping meant the death and destruction of his people. His family. His Sansa. Not his Sansa. Not yet. With the knowledge of Rickon ruling one day, they threw caution to the wind. Shared ale during dinner, long nights by the fire, stolen kisses under the bannisters. They thought they were stealthy. Arya was stealthier. Bran even more so. It didn’t matter to his siblings -cousins- really, one should find happiness where they could. And so with a promise waiting for him at the end of the wars, he fought.

The Stranger took many that year. Fallen soldiers, innocent children, tyrannical queens. But he left the Starks. He left Jon. And with the war over, Jon didn’t want to wait any longer. He didn’t completely trust the Stranger to not strike again. He married her under the Heart Tree in Winterfell as soon as he could. Being with Sansa was all he wanted and he didn’t know how long he would have with her.

After the war came their marriage. After their marriage came Spring. And with spring came children. There was peace and prosperity and Sansa prayed it would stay. She sent word out as well. Secret singers and musicians, all playing a new song of the Stranger. For the once neglected face of the Seven, he was no longer the outcast. At least above the Neck, where Sansa ensured religious freedom. Those who believed in the Old Gods and New coexisted in harmony. The Stranger suddenly had more prayers sent his way. More lit candles. More offerings.

And so the years went on. Rickon grew into his role and eventually took over as King in the North. Sansa, glad to be done with ruling, left with Jon and settled their family in a nearby keep. Arya and Bran travelled to the Lands of Always Winter. She eventually left him there to live and thrive amongst the Children of the Forest and continued on her journeys. Oh she sends letters home, even visits often. But she doesn’t like staying still for too long.

It wasn’t until they were old and grey did the Stranger make his final appearance. Just like the tales say, the Stranger never gives anything freely. It was time to collect. Hand in hand and surrounded by grandchildren, Jon and Sansa closed their eyes and greeted their old friend one more time.

#actuallyjonsa #jonsa fic #jonsa #jonsaff #jonsa fanfiction #jonsa halloween #jonsaaaaaa #my writing

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crystalangelluna · 3 years

Text

Wish It Didn't End Like This.

(Part 1/2)

Daminette angst story. I did not proof read and edit deeply so there might be mistakes. My first shot at an angst story. Comments are highly appreciated. Hope you enjoy (///=time skip)

(Mari's POV)

Damian Wayne...

It has so many definitions...

Stubborn��

Talented…

Smart…

A hero…

Brave…

A brat at first…

But underneath all the barriers he has an amazing heart, that very few get to see…

And I mean VERY few.

Only the super closest people to him had the luxury to see.

I am very glad to have met this amazing person.

If only we had spent more time together…

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

The first time I had ever met him, it was as if I was some kind of supervillain. He had this glare that seemed to scare everyone else.

But I wasn’t like everybody else.

(HA try fighting a supervillain since you were 13 and finally beating him at 17, and finding out why the person you trusted the most in your life betrayed you.)

So of course the glare was a simple child’s play.

We didn’t have a simple conversation till a few weeks later.

I went to the park near my apartment and sat at a bench where I sketched design ideas based on the scenery. I brought plagg with me, but he wasn’t a kwami, he was a real black cat. Kwamies could transform into the animal they represent. As I designed, Plagg was curled up near me softly purring.

As I was about to finish the last sketch, Plagg woke up and left. I didn’t mind it, since Plagg tended to do that. But then a dog’s bark followed by a frantic call were heard across the park.

”TITUS!!”

I looked up to see plagg being chased by a Great Dane, followed by Damian.

I ended up leaving everything besides my purse(it has Tikki inside duh) on the bench and joined in the chase.

Once we finally caught them, I picked Plagg off the ground and hugged him, he started purring and acted as if nothing happened.

Sneaky little chaotic cat

I quickly apologized profoundly for the accident, I could tell I was blushing madly

I didn’t like him (Yet), I was just embarrassed …

He did something that surprised me, something that didn’t seem like his persona.

He chuckled, sure it wasn’t like he smiled or anything like that…

But, it made me feel warm inside.

Realizing his mistake he quickly covered it up with,

”Tt, next time be careful, imbecile!”

If I hadn’t been the Famous Superhero, Ladybug/Guardian of the Miraculous, I would have been rather insulted and hurt.

But over the years I have learned to judge people by their eyes.

You see, the eyes aren’t just a useful body part to see,

They are the door to the soul, sure words might be harsh and hurtful, but they might say what they don’t mean.

And clearly, he didn’t mean to call me an imbecile, he hid it so well that I probably couldn’t have noticed it, but of course, I did.

(Damian Wayne, I will break those barriers and I will see who you truly are, and not pretend to be.)

This mission was similar to another one I had, but it was harder.

I loved a good challenge.

Wherever Marinette goes, Ladybug follows.

The bats were relatively surprised that I appeared in their territory, after some explaining and convincing I was finally allowed to work with them.

Before I left, Robin was scowling at me before leaving with the rest, which somehow was familiar…

Wait, Familiar…

Suddenly a flash appeared in my mind of a black-haired boy, with dark emerald eyes, glaring at me the same way.

How did I manage to get this Lucky, oh yeah…

I mentally face palmed this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Conjuring up a portal to my apartment, and de-transformed I just sighed…

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A couple of months later, we grew a little closer, a little.

But hey, at least it is progress am I right.

I didn’t get him to chuckle or anything but I could see a small smile on his face when he thought no one was looking. He was wrong, very wrong.

Knowing he was Robin didn’t make it any easier, especially when he treats both Marinette and Ladybug in different ways. He still doesn’t agree with Ladybug, but he was still wary of me.

I mean who wouldn’t be wary of someone when you are rich, famous, and vigilant. Anyone could use you because of your status.

Bye, now Damian must know that I don’t care about his last name, nor status.

He is just Damian to me, not a Wayne, nor Robin, and not “the Ice prince”

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////Ever since I met him he made my life better, sure it took a year for him to warm up to me.

And eventually, I became his best friend besides Jon. When no one was around he let his guard down, every barrier ever built crashed when he was alone with me.

I was so proud of myself, I had won the bet that I made with myself a year ago.

I guess the only reason why Damian is the way he is with others, and the same when I had met him was because he was neglected of the love he needed...

And Damian told me one time when we were alone that ever since he came to live with his father and even now that his father showed his other sons more love than he showed him. It broke my heart even more, but then I developed another mission.

It was to show that I care very much for my best friend and show him that is very much loved.

Everyone in school believed we were dating because of our interactions, of course, we were only best friends. But I had hopes that we would be more than best friends.

I never really planned on telling him how I feel, because I felt that it was more important to just be there for him as his best friend instead of getting a 50% chance rejected and destroying a perfectly good friendship and a 50% chance of getting accepted.

I didn’t want to risk it at all, so I never told him.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Just like how Damian opened up to me about his life (besides his vigilant life and assassin life), I did the same( besides the part about being Ladybug and Guardian) I told him about my life in Paris, the betrayals, the losses, how my life changed when a certain sausage haired liar came to school with her “shiny” life.

Being the best friend he was, he threatened to kill them. I had to chase Damian across my apartment to take the kitchen knife from his hand.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

1 month later…

He tried to keep me hidden from his family, no surprise there. No matter how much he wanted to keep me hidden it would still have happened.

When someone from Gotham Academy took a picture of me and Damian ya know doing secret best friend stuff when we thought no one was looking and posted it on Instagram, word spread out.

Later that day, not having any clue, I was “kidnapped” by 3 strangers. I was just having a simple conversation when someone tossed me over their shoulder and ran away.

I quickly kicked him in the ribs and flipped him.

I looked up to see Damian glaring, and yelling profanities at them. I turned around and saw 3 older men. I recognized who it was immediately, these were the people that complained about.

His brothers, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake.

And I had flipped the oldest. Serves him right for trying to kidnap me.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Everything was great…

Until it wasn’t…

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

I invited Damian over to hang out. We were in my room, I was sketching something while he was reading a book.

He suddenly placed his book on the table and left the room to get some food for us. He came back, only without food.

“Why do you have this!!!”

I stopped sketching and looked at what he was talking about. That was when I saw the file that contained the contact information to the leader of the league of assassins, on a paper that is written in Arabic. And information on Damian.

I froze, he wasn’t supposed to see that.

“Marinette answer me, WHY DO YOU HAVE THIS!?!?!?!”

“Damian it isn’t what it lo-” he cut me off before I could finish.

“You work for my mother, don’t you?!?! He looked at me, his eyes were tearing up. I tried to explain the misunderstanding but couldn’t. He beat me to it.

“So everything that happened between us isn’t real, they were all lies.?!?!

“Your one of mother’s spies aren’t you, she ordered you to get close to me to kill me?!?!?!

“Damian I-”

“JUST SHUT UP, I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT. I- I HATE YOU!!!” He ran away, ran away from my life. Leaving me in tears.

Alone.

Just like many of the other times in my life. Only this was the worst experience out of all of them.

I tried, I tried to live my life. Away from Paris, Away from my duties as Supreme Guardian in the Tibetan temple. Guess the universe doesn’t want that for me. I looked through the contacts on my phone. And called the person would’ve called sooner or later.

“تاليا الغول ، أقبل اقتراحك. سأقابلك غدا في قاعدة الدوري.” (Talia Al Ghul, I accept your proposal. I'll meet you tomorrow at the league base.)

I packed my bookbag with clothes, shoes, food, and the miracle box. I grabbed the photo that was on the shelf. It was one photo of me and Damian when we were hanging out at the fair. Tears were filling my eyes and I looked up to see Tikki and Plagg looking at me sadly.

I put the picture back where it was and walked to the door. I had so many memories here and I had to ruin it again.

As of tonight, Marinette is no more. I told myself

For in her place the titles, Ladybug and Guardian stick with her permanently.

No one would miss Marinette anyways.

I put the hood over my head, and left Gotham…

Forever.

Taglist:

@galla02006 @toodaloo-kangaroo

#damian x marinette #maribat #maridami #mlb x dc #ml x dc #marinette x damian #angst

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falconstarfall · 4 years

Note

Grrm made Sansa arya's foil in agot. Look how they like different things in that book. But he uses Sansa to prop up Arya n made Arya underdog. Jeyne Sansa's friend said Arya horse face implies that jeyne is bad n Arya is good for not mean to her bcoz jeyne is below station to Arya. He continuously using Sansa n jeyne to prop up Arya.

I’m taking the liberty of answering these together, so as not to spam people too much. I think two are from the same anon anyway, so I hope that’s okay.

My short answer is that yes, I think it’s perfectly clear that he did that. GRRM does seem to have a preference for the classic fantasy warrior-tomboy-princess-trope that I think is the reason why he makes readers sympathize with Arya at the expence of Sansa. But I also think it’s a mistake when people (*cough* antis) take this to mean that Sansa is a villain, or just insignificant and only in the story to support Arya’s arc.

GRRM indisputably starts out by POV trapping Sansa. She is also the only Stark POV that doesn’t get any Winterfell chapters. No interactions with siblings other than Arya (how about Bran who she seems to have been closer to? Or Robb, her much admired older brother?) to soften Arya’s biased description of her. And in her chapters with Arya - who is supposed to have the reader’s sympathy - he always seems to write Sansa as being in the wrong.

We don’t get insight into Sansa’s anticipation and fears about leaving Winterfell, or how anxious she is to give a good impression and please the people that are going to control her future - GRRM doesn’t spell this out, but just leaves it to the reader to figure out (or not figure out) that she must be feeling all these things (and this is how we get such enlightened takes as “Sansa doesn’t have any insecurities or self esteem issues, because she knows she is beautiful”). I think the one thing the show did better in regards to Sansa (and Ned’s character too) was showing that Ned was actually aware of the predicament Arya’s fight with Joffrey had put Sansa in.

GRRM doesn’t just use Sansa to set her up against Arya, though. He also uses her very deliberately to move some of his POV characters to where he needs them. I won’t get too much into this, but Sansa going to Cersei wasn’t necessary for Ned’s downfall. It was, however, a method to get both Sansa and Arya where he wanted them - a way that seemed more realistic than Ned just being so oblivious that he didn’t even try to get them out of KL at all. And GRRM spends a significant part of Sansa’s chapters on building up her motivations for this to happen.

I think that when antis talk about how Sansa is a foil for Arya, what they really mean is that this is the thing that defines her character, and that the only reason she is in the story at all is to be pitted against Arya and eventually loose. It clearly isn’t.

Even as early as AGoT, GRRM does put some effort into Sansa’s character development, especially towards the end. He shows the reader her courage in begging for her father’s life. 11 years old, and in a room full of hostile people. You think Arya is brave for fighting? This might be a different kind of bravery, but no less valid! He also shows us her anger and spite when she contemplates killing Joffrey.

And the thing is: GRRM always knew that there were going to be more books in the series. Sansa certainly seems to have grown on him more once he began developing her more a sympathetic character. But even early in AGoT it seems clear to me that he is laying the foundations for developing Sansa further (as a sympathetic POV character) in the following books.

Sansa clearly wasn’t meant to come across to the reader as the most sympathetic in AGoT. But least sympathetic among the four Stark children POV’s is actually a pretty high bar. If GRRM had really intended Sansa to be just the mean girl archetype - the evil step sister to Arya’s Cinderella that fandom seems to think she is - he could have easily written her that way. But then he didn’t.

There are so many examples of how GRRM - even when he is pitting Sansa against Arya or having her accidentally spill Ned’s plan to Cersei - is always giving the reader amble explanations to why this is happening. Explanations that have nothing to do with Sansa being mean or selfish. Let’s look at the following:

He could have written her being antagonistic with Arya in Arya I. But he didn’t. He made it into a textbook example of the POV trap instead. Sansa is nice to Beth, answers Arya’s (pretty rude) comments politely, tries to deflect. The only thing she does that can be perceived as... not so nice is call Jon out on his jealousy. The rest is all happening in Arya’s head.

He could have written Sansa trying to force Arya to “conform to patriarchy” the way antis say. Instead he gave us Sansa acting out the septa’s orders, rather annoyed and sure she is going to fail. And he showed us how the Septa is putting down Arya in front of Sansa to give the reader a very clear reason to why Sansa is thinking about Arya the way she is.

GRRM could easily have had Sansa be mean to Arya before Lady died. But he didn’t include Sansa when Arya thougt about Jeyne calling her “Horseface” (I’m still not sure about why he changed this later). Instead he used Lady as a catalyst to make their relationship worse, and the only textual examples we have of Sansa being antagonistic with Arya happened after Lady’s death when she was traumatized by the loss of her bonded “spirit animal”, and couldn’t bear to place the blame where it belonged.

GRRM put a lot of work into Sansa’s motivations for going to Cersei for help to stay in King’s Landing. Already in Sansa I we see how Sansa doesn’t understand that Ned isn’t correcting Arya the way her mother surely would have. We see how she loves life in King’s Landing, the tourney, going to court. We also see Ned wording his orders to Sansa in a way that never lets her know that there is any danger to them. We get the final - from Sansa’s POV - of Arya being allowed the things she wants, while Sansa is denied.

If GRRM meant for Sansa to be an antagonist in AGoT, I have to call Death of the Author, because that wasn’t what he wrote.

I think this is why antis are so focused on twisting GRRM’s words into meaning that he created Sansa as a villain (which is a word he never used about her himself - I think the worst he ever said was that she was “the least sympathetic”).

It’s hard to guess at GRRM’s original intentions with Sansa, because he is always deliberately vague when answering questions. But I have to say that if there had been no “original outline” where Sansa died, it would never have occured to me that he didn’t always intend to develop her in the way he did.

“But the outline!” The one about which GRRM said he was just making shit up to feed his publisher? At what point in the process was this written? Must have been pretty early, because already AGoT seems to deviate from it. Furthermore I’ve never really been able to grasp how people got villain!Sansa from that outline? Choosing her child over her family seems to me more like a tragic character that the readers would be supposed to sympathize with.

“GRRM said he came up with Sansa to create conflict!” I’ve never seen the actual quote where he said this. I have read it here, where it seems like someone is paraphrasing what GRRM said. The word “villain” (or “foil” for that matter) isn’t mentioned. To me it sounds like him describing how he was trying to create the Starks as a family with a realistic dynamic, not that he intended one particular child to be the instigating source of all discord.

GRRM might have overestimated his readers, especially the part of them that are used to reading more simplistic, tropey YA, but I think it’s a mistake to conclude that him POV trapping Sansa and using her as a tool to push the plot along in AGoT means that he didn’t already intend to develop her further at this point.

Of course it doesn’t really matter what he originally intended at all, so I can only assume the antis’ obsession with this is caused by a hope that if they can establish that Sansa was originally intended to end up evil and/or insignificant, then that must still be his intention. Nothing GRRM has said seems to indicate this. The show ending certainly didn’t indicate this. And isn’t that more important than what he said about how he developed his characters before he wrote them, or how he introduced Sansa in the first book?

#sansa stark #anti sansa antis #anti arya stans #anti arya stark #i seem to be calling her a fantasy trope a lot lately #i better elaborate a bit on that at some point #anyway grrm is a sexist old guy too #so no wonder if sansa wasn’t the first to catch his liking #i consider it rather a victory that she seems to have grown on him anyway #anonymous

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simpirals · 3 years

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Down The Tunnels

(Read on AO3) So this is another collab with my very cool friend @stellarwhaleshark in which we wrote about Not!Sasha chasing Jon down the tunnels, ending it completely differently from canon. (Jon doesnt die dw) If you liked it,please let us know in the comments! ❤️ Reblogs are encouraged ! ❤️ Characters: Not!Sasha/ Not Them, Jonathan Sims (mentions of Timothy Stoker,Sasha James and Martin Blackwood) Warnings: body horror, stabbing, axe violence, generally spooky atmosphere Jon scrambled down the dark halls. Dark, unkempt hair with streaks of grey frame his face, which scans every nook and cranny in the impossible labyrinth before him. His breathing is ragged, and as he clutches his axe in sweaty hands, a laugh echoes out in the stale air. He is utterly terrified. And he had all the reasons in the world to be so. Something that wasn't his friend wore a face he used to deem as familiar, and that very same thing was out to hunt him down.

"Jooooonnn..." An uncanny voice echoes through the tunnels, reaching out to the man fleeing for his life. "Jooonnn… Why don't you stop running so we have a nice, friendly chat? With your Sasha?" Noises that weren't footsteps reverberated through the tunnels.

"Isn't it what friends do, Jon? Sit down and talk things out together? I promise you this won't take long."

The creature's voice lowered in a dangerous growl.

Jon's heart leapt in his throat as he desperately tried to find an escape from the thing chasing him. He didn't dare respond, fearing that if he focused on anything else except running, he would be caught. Despite the nagging in the back of his mind that told him that losing it was impossible, Jon forced himself to believe that somehow, some way, he could shake the impostor from his trail. But as far as he could see, the path only continued straight. Something scratched along the walls behind him, sending his feet into a more frantic pace. "Shit, shit!"

Having no other option but to continue forward, the Archivist wills himself to move as fast as he can to avoid falling victim to Sas- no, not Sasha. Whatever was chasing him was definitely not who it claimed to be, and that voice that taunted him was certainly not his coworker's... despite how familiar it sounded.

Jon had no time to turn around and watch his pursuer. But he didn't need to do that to guess that it had picked up its pace. It was coming, and it was coming fast.

"Jooooonnnnnnn !"

Its limbs scratch at the concrete walls as it advances rapidly.

"You'll just tire yourself out eventually, silly! What do you think will happen when you collapse on the ground, exhausted and vulnerable?"

Jon's paranoia makes him feel like something was breathing down his neck. But it was just the coldness of the air.

"I'll catch you. And then we'll be able to properly chat. Like friends! Friends do that all the time, don't they? Why are you doing this, Jon? Am I not a good friend to you? Isn't Sasha someone you can trust? You truly wound me, Jon!"

It almost sounded like it was trying to feign… sadness.

But Jon knew better than to listen to it.

He itched to scream back at it. To tell it that he knew it wasn't her, that it could never be Sasha. But instead, Jon grit his teeth and pushed onward. Then, to his left, he saw a dark patch in the wall. As he got closer, he noticed that it was an opening - another corridor. If he was fast enough, Jon could catch it off guard and use the weaving halls to his advantage. Jon let himself slow down a bit, and he could hear what wasn't Sasha gaining on him. Timing his movement just right, Jon skids over into the opening, turning his attention behind him to see the thing dash past with a growl of irritation.

Huffing a small laugh of victory, Jon turned around to gather his bearings of the new hall, but rather than seeing branching pathways, he instead saw concrete walls encasing him.

"Oh, no... no, no no--"

The monster slammed its claws down on the cold ground with satisfaction, cutting off the path to Jon's only escape.

"Found you, Jon."

There was a sickeningly triumphant grin to its voice as it slowly neared Jon, as if it had all the time in the world, its prey standing right before it.

"How about you face me properly, Jon? Come on, turn around. It would be boring if the last thing you ever saw was a wall, wouldn't you agree?" It sang, and this time, the cold breath creeping against Jon's nape was not his imagination.

His whole body shook, and his breathing became so fast that his vision began to blur. This was... god, this wasn't good at all. Jon's thoughts were a jumbled mess, and it was so hard to focus. He was going to die, he was sure of it. How could he be so stupid? Of course he wouldn't be able to outrun that thing. If it wasn't for him breaking that table--

The table. He still had the axe with him, didn't he? Jon gripped the handle tighter into his fists, knuckles turning white. The whole point of getting it was to make that thing hurt, right?

Well, hopefully it'll actually serve its purpose.

Slowly, Jon turned around, having to crane his head to meet the gaze of the monster that stared back with a dangerous glint in its eyes.

The being that wasn't Sasha stared right at him as he looked straight into its fake, glassy eyes.

"Good." It says, with a satisfied tone, lifting its hand- no, not a hand; this was far too big and sharp to be called one- from the ground, raising it to Jon's eye level.

"Remember when I told you I'd make this quick earlier?" It cackles, with that voice that did not belong to it. "I'm afraid Good old Sasha lied!"

It's going to strike.

"You. Are. Not. HER!"

One quick swing, and Jon manages to axe the beast's right limb. The force sends it slamming against a nearby wall and the thing shrieks with multiple voices at once, stumbling back.

"You...YOU!!!" It had not expected Jon to still be able to inflict any sort of damage on its body.

Clutching its wound, it emits a furious roar, and Jon swears his eardrums are about to pop.

He just has enough time to turn around and start running again before the creature tries to catch him, and it trips on itself.

No matter how far away Jon was getting, screams of anguish still rattled off of the walls around him. It sent a chill down his spine, and as he spotted a fork in the catacombs, a screech of muddled voices startled him. "GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE RAT!" It yells out, and the sound of it getting back onto what Jon supposed could be feet made its way down the hall.

As far as he was concerned, remembering how to navigate his way back out of the tunnels was the least of his problems. So Jon ducks and weaves through halls of all sizes, hoping that he'll eventually become so lost that not even the monster at his heels would be able to find him.

Not!Sasha wants to hunt him down to the ends of the Earth.

But first it needed to get its arm back. It quickly grabbed it and pressed the area that was freshly cut against its shoulder and the porcelain colored flesh melted, fusing the missing piece against its body.

It clutched its limb and stretched out its claws, briefly studying itself to see if that puny human caused any further damage.

It seemed satisfied.

It quickly looked at the direction where Jon had fled and it screeched again, getting back on all fours and rushing out, leaving the dead end behind.

" JON! " It howled like a dying animal.

" I WILL FIND YOU AND I WILL DEVOUR YOUR ARM! THAT'S A PROMISE! "

It galloped through the halls, absolutely seething, scanning each nook and corners that could lead it to Jon's location.

" WHERE ARE YOU?! "

Its screams of rage had encouraged Jon to avoid staying in one place for too long. So he continues to let himself wander, some turns echoing the voice louder than others. He's not quite sure how long he's been running, but the aching in his legs is beginning to slow him down. "Come on, keep going...!" Jon grunts to himself as he tries to fight through the pain, but it's becoming apparent that he has to find somewhere to rest soon.

" Jooooonnnn.... " It hissed through gritted fangs, "If you show yourself now, maybe I won't tear you limb from limb. Come on, be a good friend and come out, won't you?" As the monster began to speak aloud again, Jon rounded a corner and pressed himself against the cold wall. Every bone within him shook, and it took everything in him to not slide down to the floor.

The creature snarled, still very much enraged by her previous wound. Even a monster of the Stranger can still feel pain, after all. And having to push its fake bones back into place wasn't exactly pleasant.

Seeing that Jon was still nowhere close to her, it halted for a brief instant. "Alright, I may have gotten a little bit angry earlier. But could you blame me? You literally cut my arm off! That's not a very nice thing to do to your friend, is it, Jon?"

Naturally, she knew this wasn't going to entice him to come to her. But it was fun to toy with him.

"You know," It says, "I wonder how your screams would sound like once I get you to the circus... Taking you apart pieces by pieces, to reshape you afterward… Kinda like Sasha, actually! Oh, you should have seen her! She did such a wonderful performance too, squirming under my claws.'' It chuckles, dragging on the last words of her sentence painfully. No matter how hard Jon tried to ignore the taunts of the beast, its words sank in deep. The second that it began to describe Sasha's body being torn apart and put together, he felt himself heave a bit. And yet they continued on, finding humor in how his dear friend suffered.

"She writhed and squirmed when I gave her new joints, too. Human bones are tough, that’s obvious, but they can always be upgraded to better material. No one would see the difference anyway! Especially not you, Jon."

It chuckled eerily.

"Oh, you should have heard her too! She kept on screaming at you and your acolytes' names, too! It was delightful to hear! Actually, why don't you listen to it yourself? You love to listen, don't you?" Jon's breathing began to pick up again until it became quick gasps of air. He did his best to get it under control, but then.

The sound Jon heard was the exact replica of Sasha's voice. He could hear the terror and the agonizing pain in her tone.

"Jon, Martin! Anyone! help, it-it hurts so much! Please, someone, get me out of here! Please! PLEASE, JON! HELP ME! "

It spoke like Sasha. The real Sasha. The begging and pleading that called out into the halls belonged to someone he couldn't recognize. But he knew without a doubt that it was her. "Oh, Christ... Sasha, s-she was--"

How long was she tormented? Ripped apart and reconstructed like some sort of sick puzzle?

" PLEASE, JON! HELP ME! "

"I-I'm so sorry, Sasha..!" Jon whimpered out, clamping a free hand to his mouth to stop a sob bubbling up his throat. The whole time, Sasha was alive, and they did nothing to help her.

The realization hit Jon with such an intensity that he collapsed down the wall with a pathetic thud. The axe followed shortly after, the metal clattering to the stone floor and ringing out beyond where the Archivist could see. He stiffened, eyes widening in horror and darting down to his weapon he had dropped on the floor.

Jon made a huge mistake.

The creature halted its grim imitation suddenly, turning its head sharply toward the direction of the noise she just heard.

Oh, that was too easy.

She did not need to look any longer, she knew exactly where her prey was now.

Not Sasha suddenly appeared right before him.

"There you are."

Jon barely had the time to get up and made another foolish attempt to flee. The monster had already seized his ankle with her inhumanly big, sharp hand, forcing the man to collide brutally against the hard floor beneath him. Jon gasped in pain at the force of the impact.

"Oh, no no, I’m not letting you go anywhere anytime soon!"

Jon uselessly thrashed and scraped his nails on the stone covered ground as Not Sasha simply dragged Jon back to her, flipping him unceremoniously on his back, so he could see her in her full glory, her entire body looming over him, caging him.

"No-- No, no no no--"

Jon's desperate pleas were cut off as the thing that wasn't his Sasha suddenly slammed her other hand against Jon's body, effectively pinning him down under its weight as its dangerous claws were big enough to cover and seize his body.

"Now… What am I going to do with you…?" It said, absolutely relishing the way Jon stared back at her with terrified eyes.

Oh, how much she loved to taste the fear of her prey. This was delightful.

"Hmm... I could do the same thing you did to me... But using that little axe of yours may make it too easy. I think cutting through you myself would be much more fun!" She spoke idly, biting back a laugh when their suggestion only caused the Archivist to squirm more.

"Oh, but I know how much you care about your old Sasha! Maybe taking you to see her one last time, broken and wrong would be more painful!" Jon managed to wriggle an arm out from its grasp, and attempted to punch their long fingers.

It didn't even phase them. "And if you're good, Jon," Not Sasha's face leered down to meet his own, her sharp grin reflecting in the glasses that framed Jon's panicked eyes.

"Maybe I'll tear you apart just like how I did her."

Jon felt his breath snag in his lungs. If being torn apart would be his reward for being "good" Then what would it be if he tried to actually fight back? Probably something worse than death itself.

He wasn't about to find out.

"Just- please, just let me go, I don't-"

"Ah, ah, ah! I didn't chase you through these tunnels all this time just to let you run again, you silly. No, no, I exactly know what I'm going to do with you."

Not Sasha grabbed Jon's wrist between the edge of its claws, observing it.

"Such a frail little limb. Wonder how long it'll take to break."

"Wait--"

Before Jon could utter another useless plea, the monster unhinged its jaws,and violently sank her teeth into his right shoulder, mirroring the damage that Jon did to her just before. The second her horribly sharp teeth punctured into his skin, Jon began to spiral into hysterics. His instincts told him to do something, anything, but the pain clouded his mind to the point where he wasn't able to focus on anything else. Jon screamed.

Not Sasha pulled and pulled on his arm, and a sickening squelch could be heard as her fangs kept digging deeper and deeper inside his shoulder.

As soon as he felt his shoulder about to give out under that thing's fangs, she suddenly released him, pulling her head back to reveal her freshly bloodstained face. It casually wiped the blood that dribbled down its chin, eyeing its work.

"...Actually, I just remembered that Nikola doesn't really like being handed broken playthings. I guess you get to keep your arm this time. Lucky you! ...But then again, I could always replace your arm with something different. I wonder if Nikola would mind… Hmmm."

She tapped her chin, seeming to seriously ponder that option.

“Oh, I sure hope she won't be mad at me for damaging you a bit.”

She looked almost worried, but more for the fact that she could get in trouble for harming Jon rather than being concerned about his well being.

The Not Them had briefly released Jon, as she was too busy trying to shred his shoulder into bits previously. The Archivist stumbled backwards in hopes of gaining some distance between them. But it took nothing more than a tug at his ankle to drag him back.

Hm, she must have tired him out. Good.

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to wait until I hear back from Nikola. In that case," Not Sasha grabbed hold of Jon's torso with one of its large disfigured hands, gripping tightly.

She hummed in satisfaction when she was able to feel the Archivist's heart hammering against her palm.

"It seems like you'll be coming with me." It squeezed him a bit tighter, chuckling as Jon screwed his eyes shut in agony. "N- no! I'll never- AH-!"

A claw prodded in one of the gory punctures on his arm. "Now, now. I was generous enough with letting you keep your arm... don't push it." They dug the finger in deeper to emphasize their point.

For the fun of it, Not Sasha left her claw in the wound, enjoying the sight of her prey writhing in pain. But soon enough, Jon tired himself out, slowly falling limp and shaking with exhaustion. "Someone, p-please...!" He begged. A last ditch effort on his behalf, Not Sasha was sure of it.

"Oh, come now, Jon, no one can hear you. I thought you knew that these tunnels keep things rather well hidden. If none of your friends were able to hear your screams, what makes you think they'll hear your pathetic whimpering?"

He went quiet at that.

"Good. Now, shall we go?"

"Martin, Tim, please...." Jon mumbled to himself, feeling himself close to passing out from the pain.

"I'll take that as a yes." ———————————————- Please let us know if you enjoyed that fic so we can be motivated to write more ❤️

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #magpodfic #not!sasha #not!them #the stranger #Its Strange serie #body horror #stabbing #generally creepy #simpirals #taikeero-lecoredier #the not them #tai's stories

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