#anyway. putting jon's lines about doubt right next to “when does the fear go away?” in my brain. quotes that cause the same kind of misery

[chester-i-hardly-know-her]

crane wives songs ranked by how much i can make them about the magnus archives because that's the level of obsession i've reached part 1: safe ship, harbored (1/2)

one person said i should go through with this so let's go! i'm gonna split the albums in half to make the posts not as long. they are still going to be long. lyrics are in italics!

can't have it all: interesting one to start off! i feel like it kind of works, but i don't know how to work some of the more specific lines (i think you'll have a ring on your finger but not now, for example, which could work for something, i feel, but i haven't thought of it). but there's things like, my mind's made up, though my head still aches / and all my love you tried to take but / you can't have it all that just. really feel like they work with the themes of having to make awful choices and going through situations that take so much from them. could work for the finale choice even. you won't find me where you left me, no, i'm long gone / you can't bind me in the state you kept me for so long. which puts me in mind of like. all the ways they're trapped in situations where some of them are able to leave even if not all of them, like with the institute and the lonely and the web and the apocalypse. unfortuately they are often bound in horrors that are harder to leave. could work i think! 6/10.

the diving bell: on the entity side of things, very much readable as vast or buried with their whole shared custody of the ocean, or the general act of giving yourself fully to the fears. i will drown for you / sink to black from blue / and let the water win. like as a metaphor for a relationship it's very much one where the singer gives up everything in the process of loving something far greater than themself and drowns. i feel the need to mention jon's door with an ocean behind it metaphor, but it's hard to make it fully work for him given the line is i am not afraid to give you everything, and i feel like there's. definitely fear involved in that situation. only a few characters aren't somewhat afraid of their entities, though there's also some that are but might say or think they aren't. you could apply it to a relationship between characters, but none specifically come to mind that fit both the ocean theme and giving yourself up entirely? given the general entity themes work well but i have no specifics i've thought of, i'd say overall 5/10.

new colors: i have half a mind to climb up in the sky / and steal new colors away from the sun. like colours but if colours hated you? aside from that, it's like. don't tell me that i can't / i need this so damn bad. wanting new knowledge/experiences like that could be a little bit eye. needing it is a bit jon, even. referencing him destroying the dark sun potential. and of course there's the line i'd give up my sight to see, which can work from a few angles, depending on if the eye is the sight or the seeing. giving up the eye to get a clearer view on things or the other way around? can work with melanie literally giving up her sight to escape as well. i'd give up my air to breathe is not a line i instantly connected to the buried and daisy getting clarity there, but i got attached to the interpretation. can also be read as giving up their life, which makes it fit a whole lot of other situations too, which is good given the line repeats. then there's the second verse, folks round here are mean, spit fire and gasoline / but all i want is solitude. like yeah. that's pretty s4 martin. first line has desolation links but can work with the more negative times in the archives, or avatars in general with the context of the whole verse. a lot to work with here. this was a 7 at first but given i started planning an animatic in my mind the more i looked at it, it gets bumped up to an 8/10.

caleb trask: this song apparently references a book, which does add layers if you want to look further, but the context doesn't change the themes of the song itself, that your blood/past shouldn't hold you back from living. "when the azaleas bloom," he said / "when the flower blossoms spread / that's the day … / i'll love you" yeah. you can s4 jonmartin that. if you might then you may, there's no reason to live bound in chains / cause you're not alone, we're the daughters of sinners, we're the sons of saints. you could do fun character contrasts here. because there are so many characters who come from good or bad or complex places both in and out of the context of fears, enough that i am not listing them because it would be most of the cast. and many characters that hold themselves back from being happy because of all the horrors and guilt (though, no reason to live bound in chains could also be more sinister depending on context (like how helen discusses things in s5 especially)). so you got bad in your blood / brother, you're one of us. obviously there's not being alone in having a bad past, but it also brings to mind that moment in 185 where jon's like "you're one of us" to martin about being with the fears. blood don't mean nothing(/a thing) / in the end. this is gerry voice in 111. hi gerry you are one of the ones i thought about for the earlier line. gonna give this one 7/10!

counting sheep: are you sleeping, brother john? john like jonathan sims? he sure was sleeping (dreams) (coma). now this is interesting, and i think it might be the first where it works to twist the meaning a bit. you may think i've already done that but i feel like there's a difference between changing the literal things (making something about the fears instead of a metaphor or relationship etc) vs changing the emotions behind it, like if something in you's fast asleep / afraid to be who you will be / it's a losing battle, so why are you still fighting? is changed to, instead of being who you truly are, to becoming an avatar, then it becomes more negative. but it does very much work. this is what puts a character song on the hear me out cake to me (post i just reblogged if you need context). not the rating, but how much i'm willing to twist the the core of it to make that rating higher. this one may be on there for me. also the feign contentment for a while / that's all you know how to do lines feels early season martin to me. as well as the prentiss situation with morning comes a day too soon / you're back inside your tiny room / waiting for something, so good at doing nothing. the wool being off their eyes could relate more to learning about the fears maybe. or more like how it actually means in the song. even with tilting my head and having a beautiful mind there are parts that are harder to fit, but i like to think about it, so we're doing decimals now because. it does say jon. 5.5/10.

hole in the silver lining: ooo this one is interesting for tma. given the phrase refers to clouds, the themes could maybe lean more lonely with that, given the whole song is about pessimism. i might find nothing when i start looking / but i'll turn it over in my hands until / my fingers wear it through. the imagery here also puts me in mind of like, textiles, weaving, unravelling the wool of said cloud. so the visuals are quite web to me when i imagine them. given the web does tend to cause doubt, that's also fun. leave your doubt at the door / don't you take another step. there's lots of themes with doors. lots of themes with doubt. a quote from 139 about agnes came to mind so i looked for the episode where that was discussed and god. obsessed with jon's thoughts after the statement. "but I’m so full of doubt, it feels like there’s no room for anything else, and i'm sure martin is the same." "maybe… we’re the opposite of agnes. maybe our doubts are exactly what we need. if that’s the case, i’m an amazing chosen one." augh. so yeah. could work very well. love it. though given it's vague enough to work with quite a lot, it feels not quite specific enough for me to give higher than 8/10.

[bibliocratic]

i found writing proposal fic really fun !! or wedding planning :) maybe u would also find that fun? x

jonmartin post-160 proposal fic

Jon tries to write vows.

Hunched over, crow-spined and squinting in the feeble cast of the firelight, he scribbles, mutters, scratches out, furrows his brow and clenches his fingers and snarls under his breath in irritation, at his fumbling incapacity for words. He was not born with a poetic soul, and his admiration for Martin's humble offerings grows each passing minute. His words sputter out of him with all the ease of water from a broken tap.  

Jon has taken first watch, and it's a duty he approaches solemnly. They've broken into a boarded-up hairdressers, set up their sleeping bags and meagre provisions and the small fire in a waste-paper bin for warmth in the cramped office space at the back. Every noise, creak and snap and distant shriek has Jon straightening, widening the circle of his Knowing like a fishing net, giving it an exhausted push outwards that gets harder each time. The lawless world they are in has at least one advantage; nothing but the most fool-hardy of things wants to touch the architect of this nether-world of horrors, nothing skulking or spiralling or swooping wants to challenge an unfettered Avatar. It's more people, these days, that they have learned to avoid.

Martin twitches in his sleep. Sleeping bag pulled up over his face, head pillowed by folded-over barber capes,  his body snug against but turned away from Jon, who is sitting up, his back supported by plastic wrapped boxes of industrial-size shampoos and hair rollers. Jon frowns again, his lines only deepening as he listens to the soft, undisturbed in and out of Martin's breathing. Because he wants to get this one right. To place words like mosaic tiles to create the imagery of his intention, to capture everything he feels he needs to say.

Martin deserves this. Jon can give him so few words, these days. Jon wants to give him ones that will mean something.

His impatience is one of the few things that the last few years hasn't chewed out of him. He huffs, irritable and discontent, his frustration leaden under his skin, and scrunches up another paper to sacrifice to his petty mood.

When Martin takes the next watch, he finds a nest of fire-scourged paper balls dying in the embers.

–

Jon tries to find rings.

His intention is to be a few minutes. He unpeels himself around dawn from Martin's heavy arms, gently shushing the unhappy noise this draws from his mouth. The jewellers is ten minutes from where they've holed up today, and Jon steals away guiltily,  keeping his Eye on Martin long after he's left to make sure he doesn't wake up to find him gone.

Jon is away too long. He reaches the small, high-street shop with no issue, doesn't even need to pick the shattered lock of the door. Inside, he finds a scatter of rings and necklaces, but they're all soot-charred, twisted from an unnatural heat, their metals warped irreparable.  And then there is something tooth-filled in the recesses of the jewellers, something that smells the human stench of him and feels hungry, and it takes Jon an hour to give it the slip, leading it into a fog-bank half a mile away to be subsumed by the greedy pull of the mist.

He Looks out of himself, and against the borders of him, he feels a blanketing heat-shimmer of terror and knows it isn't his own.

His long legs take the streets at a run, huffing as he reaches the grey-stone public square at the centre of the city, exposed and empty of people. Getting nearer, he hears a looping, repetitive nightingale whistle, low and plaintive. It stops, waits, and starts up again.

Jon, with perfect mimicry, makes the high harsh caw of a crow in reply.

Martin is standing at the door of the Wagamama's they broke into, his feet unshod by shoes, his hair uncombed and flattened at one side. The creep of dawn is not so faint that Jon can't see the pale wash of his face, the tightness of his jaw, the relief that cascades across it like the release of a dammed-up waterfall when he sees Jon haring his way across the vacant, space of the square to greet him.

“Where were you?” Martin demands even before he reaches him.  His hands running over him as soon as Jon gets close enough, checking for hurt, injury, his voice high and pitchy and failing to translate his panic into something else. “God, I woke up, and – don't do that Jon! Anything could've – I had no idea where you'd – and what the hell were you thinking?”

Jon's hands motion, miserably, desperate to soothe and knowing it can't be that easy, sorry, sorry, sorry.

“Where did you go?” Martin repeats, insistent, almost angry but forcing it down to simmer at a panic-laced frustration. He doesn't usually push, usually recognises the limits of what Jon can communicate, allows them both space to sit down with paper and pencil and is patient with the slower exchange of this. But his shirt is coated with sweat around the throat and arms, his hands curling into fists to stop their juddering, nerve-shocked motions, and Jon tries to imagine how he would feel, should he wake up, and find Martin gone.

He pauses before opening his mouth.

“Looking for something,” he says carefully with a stolen clear-cut pronunciation, bathed in an entitled, self-absorbed air. Rifles through his records, despairing to find no words that he can chop-and-change together like a collage of explanation, glances up at Martin's distressed expression.

“Did you find it?”

Jon shakes his head.

“I feel like an idiot,” he tries again in a pleasant, justifying voice, and wishes someone had put to records some better expression of apology. Wishes someone had used the right words in the appropriate manner; stronger still, wishes his voice was his own again, a domain he could claim unsullied by the burden of his title. That he could say something, anything to wipe the blanket fear from Martin's scruffy face.

“Yeah, well,” Martin grumbles after a while, wiping at his eyes. “I knew that already.”

Sorry, Jon signs again, but Martin is stilling his hands, gentle even now, and bundles him into a tight, bone-squeeze of a hug.

“Don't do that to me again, Jon, please,” he whispers shakily.

Jon doesn't try and find rings again.

–

Jon tries to plan a proposal.

He knows, deep down, that the best intentioned version of himself is a planner. Likes order and alphabetized files and organisational stationery, is happiest with a well-crafted spreadsheet or a completed to-do list. Jonathan Sims is a man easily satisfied by things as they should be, appeased and engaged by the challenge of a logical puzzle, a knotty problem he can sort by analysis and application.

He also knows that there is another version of himself. The one that rashly takes an axe to possessed tables and jumps into fog-bound seascapes and soil-choked coffins after the people he loves.

He does try. He thinks of picturesque spots he can take Martin, places where the scenery isn't so horror-fucked, where there are still banks from which they can watch sunsets. But the picturesque spots, when they aren't shadow-infested or crawling with overzealous fungal growths that warn of Corruption nearby, are chilly, and there's not exactly time to stop and admire the views much anyway. The sunset-stained bank is a near success; drought-scoured and pocked with frost-damage, but the evening colours are unashamedly glorious. Jon spends hours trying to muster the courage and words and correct gestures, only for Martin, drained and wiped out  from a run-in with the Flesh, to fall asleep on Jon's shoulder, his hair flopping over his face, a comforting dead-weight. Jon adjusts them carefully so Martin's head is cushioned against his thigh, and scratches his fingers soothingly through his hair as he watches the sunset alone.  

But one day they're making their way through the Peak District, and they've found a tumbling river with a small waterfall. Martin's flicked water at him with a butter-wouldn't-melt smile, and Jon replied in kind, and Martin had made a shrieking giggling scandalised 'Jon!' as he continued splashing him. And it might have been the way the water dripped down his face and over his freckles, or the way the dim daylight caught his profile, or it might have been the bold and untempered heat that burnt like a forge in Jon's chest to hear the high, bright sound of his rare happiness, but whatever it was,  the other version of Jon resurfaces. Decides that he doesn't need romantic scenery or rings or vows or other people's words in his mouth, that life is short and this can't wait and he wants this, wants Martin, more than anything.

First, he drags Martin to him. On his tiptoes, arms locked around shoulders, feeling Martin hum, surprised but pleased as he kisses him.

It is a good kiss. One of his best. Jon feels a little bit smug about it when they separate and Martin is slightly out of breath, a comet-streak of heat across his face, looking a bit struck at Jon's forwardness.

Jon seals his first kiss with a second, smaller, softer kiss, making sure Martin's looking at him.

Then he lowers himself onto one knee.

“Jon, what are you – ?” Martin asks, his face creasing with confusion. But Jon has chosen the most unsubtle non-verbal gesture he can, and refuses to look away from him, gazing up and waiting for the penny to drop, even as his knees complain on the hard rocky ground, even as his own doubts swarm that Martin won't understand, Martin won't want to, Martin might say no.

Martin gives a little sucked-in gasp.

“Jon, are you, are you asking...?”

Jon is nodding, almost feverish, and Martin's face has gone the colour of a vibrant sunrise, moisture welling up in his eyes. Jon reaches out, takes one of Martin's hands in his smaller hold, touches with the pad of his thumb the space where, if he could, he would have slotted a ring.  

He lets go and precisely and delicately, he signs I love you. They don't have the vocabulary for grander expressions, but Jon doesn't have anything else he needs to say anyway.

“Jon, you – god, I love you,” Martin replies, damp-voiced and faint,  a broad and beaming  smile widening across and lighting up his face. There's not a pause before he's eagerly going to his knees to join Jon, pressing fierce, hopelessly charmed kisses against his lips, cradling his face in his hands, and Jon's so dazed by the onslaught, it takes him a minute to sign Yes? at Martin.

“I – oh, yeah, yeah! Of course, yes,” Martin replies, still struck by a thoughtless delighted giddiness.

Then: “Oh! Oh, oh, wait just a minute I – ”

He's digging his hands into his left trouser-pocket, tugging it out, pressing what he's found into Jon's hands.

Jon opens the travel-knocked, slightly cracked box to see two unpolished plain bands sat snugly in their display, and his own smile blossoms like a firework on his face.

send me prompts if you fancy!

[haberdashing]

Transparent Closet

Jon and Georgie, both of whom are bi, come out to one another... in a way.

Written as part of @jonsimsbipride for the prompt “Solidarity”. Inspired by this post, though it portrays Jon as pan while this fic has him as bi.

on AO3

One of Jon and Georgie’s first dates was watching a series of mediocre supernatural-themed horror films together.

One of the things they’d first bonded over was their shared interest in the supernatural, after all (though Jon had never dared tell her of his first-hand experience with such things... and years down the line, Jon would learn that Georgie hadn’t dared share her own with him either), and what were schlocky movies for if not watching them together with someone you care about and talking trash loudly enough that the actual movie could barely be heard?

The lights were turned down (though not entirely off), Jon and Georgie sat pressed against each other on a couch that was either too small or just the right size depending on one’s perspective, and the movie marathon began.

After the night in question was over, Jon quickly forgot most of the details of the movies they chose to watch then--the titles, the storylines, even the number of movies they managed to fit in before conking out for the night--but one bit from the marathon stuck with him.

There was a lead actress in one of the movies who was pretty, but in a way that was clearly Hollywood trying to make her appear down-to-earth. The woman in question wore full makeup in every scene and was skinny and conventionally attractive and wore clothes clearly fitted precisely to her body shape, but her long brown hair looked a bit untamed and there was a speck of dirt placed just so on her cheek, so clearly she was just a regular person, right?

(In Jon’s opinion, the attempt fell well short of the mark, but he wasn’t terribly surprised; what Hollywood executives thought was normal and what regular people thought was normal were clearly two different things. Regardless, the actress didn’t strike Jon as his type.)

A few minutes into the movie, screams came from within a mansion that had been rumored to be haunted, and while most of the characters froze up or ran away, the lead actress took off her high heels and ran towards the mansion, her bare feet squelching in the mud with every step.

When that happened, Georgie tapped Jon’s arm and said in a stage whisper (as if they were in a movie theatre with others to disturb with their speech, instead of it just being the two of them snuggled up on that small couch), “Sorry, Jon, think we’re gonna have to break up now, that woman just earned my hand in marriage right there.”

Jon diverted his attention from the movie and looked over at Georgie, and he saw on her face when the realization hit her that she’d never actually confessed her attraction to women before. She didn’t look scared that Jon would reject her for it, though--that was one thing Jon always admired about Georgie, that she was never scared, never filled with the fear that consumed Jon’s own mind so frequently. But she watched Jon’s reaction to her statement almost as closely as he was watching her now.

“Surely we can work out an arrangement.” Jon replied after a brief moment. “She can have you on the weekends, perhaps?”

That careful scrutiny apparent on Georgie’s face melted away in an instant, replaced with a gentle smile. “Don’t be selfish, Jon. You can have me on the weekends. She gets the weekdays.”

“It’s hard not to be selfish when something so precious is at stake.” Jon reached for Georgie’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “But you’re right, fair is fair. Switch off every other week, then?”

“Hmm...” Georgie pressed the hand that wasn’t being held by Jon against her chin, as if she were deep in thought.

“And she can have you for the holidays.”

“Alright, sold.” Georgie pressed her lips against Jon’s cheek, and though the contact only lasted a moment, the warmth from the kiss was still enough to carry Jon through the rest of the night, his mind now filled with anything but the cinematic schlock still playing in front of him.

.

Jon was sitting on Georgie’s couch, listening to her rant about her troubles with a recent biology assignment, before she suddenly switched gears and asked, “So what have you been working on lately, Jon? Can’t be as bad as all that...”

Jon didn’t need to think twice about which of his assignments to discuss, not when one of them always seemed to be in the back of his mind at any given moment. “No, it’s quite interesting, actually. I’ve been working on an analysis of the book A Separate Peace--have you ever read it?”

Georgie hesitated for a moment, wrinkling her nose in thought before shaking her head in response. “The name sounds familiar, but I’ve never read it, no.”

“Alright, so-”

Just those two words emerging from Jon’s mouth were enough to put a wry smile on Georgie’s face--she knew what was coming, knew that Jon was getting ready to ramble on about one of his latest interests, and it warmed Jon’s heart to think that she was clearly looking forward to such rambling, a far cry from how his grandmother’s eyes had always glazed over when he’d tried to explain his passions to her.

“It’s about the narrator, Gene, returning to a boarding school he used to go to and reflecting on his time there, and specifically on his relationship with another student there, Finny--er, not relationship like that, they were friends and, and rivals... though actually, maybe like that too? There do seem to be certain- certain undertones, though maybe that’s just me projecting on Gene a bit too much there...”

Georgie raised an eyebrow. “Would you want to have a relationship with Finny, then?”

Jon looked down at the couch to avoid Georgie’s gaze. “Well, uh, I doubt Finny’d be interested in me to begin with, he seems out of my league...”

“You underestimate yourself, Jon.” Jon looked back up at Georgie just in time to catch the playful twinkle in her eye. “Besides, it’s a hypothetical. If the option were available, would you date Finny?”

“And if we weren’t already dating?”

Georgie let out a snort of amusement. “And if we weren’t already dating, too. Don’t worry, Jon, I’m not going to get mad if you’d date a fictional character.”

Jon thought about it for a moment. “...probably, yes, I would. Though he’s, uh, he’s sixteen. And dead by the end of the novel. So...”

Jon could swear he saw Georgie’s face blanche for a moment, but it was fleeting enough that he wasn’t sure it wasn’t just his imagination running wild or a trick of the light; the color returned to Georgie’s face in an instant, and any uncertainty in her expression was replaced by an exaggerated wrinkling of her nose. “That does tend to put a damper on potential relationships, doesn’t it?”

“Just a little bit.” Jon said, a bit of laughter sneaking into his voice.

“So how did this Finny die, anyway?”

“Well, it’s pretty much the climax of the novel, so to get into that, I’ll have to explain the rest of it first-”

Jon launched into a detailed explanation of the plot of A Separate Peace, and Georgie watched him with interest the entire time.

.

Jon didn’t entirely realize the implications of him admitting that he’d date Finny if given a chance until later in the night, when Georgie brought it up again during a lull in the conversation.

“So, if you’d date Finny-”

“Given all those hypothetical caveats, yes.”

“Right. And you’re dating me-”

Jon raised an eyebrow, schooling his face into his best semblance of surprise. “I certainly hope we’ve established that much.”

Georgie swatted at Jon with one hand, though the motion was slow and gentle and ended up coming just short of actually making contact with him.

“So you’re into both guys and girls, then. Do you identify as bi then, or pan, or-”

“Bi, yeah.”

Georgie’s face lit up at the words, her mouth stretching into a wide grin. “Same here! High-five? Wait, no--bi-five!”

Jon and Georgie both giggled a bit at that pun, and when Georgie extended her hand in Jon’s direction, Jon high-fived it without hesitation.

“Say, come next Pride, you can use the face paint I’ve got if you want, if it’s got cooties I dare say you’d have them already...”

Jon shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not exactly a fan of face paint.”

“Really?” Georgie wrinkled her nose. “Ah well, more for me, then. I do have some old pins you could have if you want, too!”

“Only if you’re sure you don’t want them.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty to spare. Fun fact, covering a hat entirely with pins is not nearly as fun or practical as it sounds. Learned that one from experience.”

“Wait, you’ve got a hat covered with pins and you’ve been hiding it from me this whole time?”

“I used to have a hat covered with pins. Ended up taking them all off, and I had to throw out the cap underneath because it was so riddled with holes, and now I’ve just got all these pins hanging around...”

As Georgie kept talking about how she’d covered a hat with pins before and why she ended up taking them all off, a smile sneaked its way onto Jon’s face.

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio 8/?

Chapter 7

"How are you doing?" Melanie asks, sitting cross-legged next to him on the floor. Gerry looks up at her, the tape recorder whirring away on top of his chest. "Okay. Yes, stupid question."

Gerry sighs. It's- the fact that Melanie even cares shows amazing progress from the little monster of rage she was not a month ago. Under different circumstances, he'd feel happy about it.

"I'm better. The tapes help."

Melanie nods. "Martin has some good ideas."

"At times," Gerry mutters, feeling the familiar prickle of irritation at his stomach. He has some words to tell Martin, after what he heard yesterday in the tapes. "I still think he should have at least tried to call Jon back."

"I don't understand any of that." Melanie nudges at his side with the tip of her sneaker. "If Martin could have called him, why couldn't you?"

Gerry sighs. "I told you. It's got to be something he loves. Someone he loves, not-" he huffs, when Melanie arches an eyebrow. "You know it's not like that. You know it was never like that at all."

VIII

"Jon?" Daisy's voice is slightly panicked, and it sends a pang through Jon's chest. He's learned what it means, by now.

"I'm here-" he says, giving her hand a squeeze. Daisy squeezes back so hard it hurts; that's good, down here. It helps remind you there's feelings other than fear. "Is it-?"

"It's coming agai-" is all Daisy manages to say before it is there. Dirt presses in all around them, and though Jon shuts his mouth tight it somehow finds a way in, like it always does. It cram up his nose, down his throat, into his eyes and somehow that last one is the most terrible of them all, and Jon has to remind himself not to let go of Daisy's hands to try and scrub at them. He opens his mouth to scream, but all that slides into his lungs is heavy mud, the kind you can step on and not sink, and definitely not the kind you can breathe through, and his lungs burn-

And it's gone.

Everything recedes at once -it doesn't go away, it never does-, just far back enough that Jon can take in a gasp of air that is only mostly dust.

"D-daisy?" his voice is slightly panicked.

"I'm here," it feels like an eternity goes by before Daisy squeezes at his hand, and he squeezes back as hard as he can, enough that it hurts his joints."Talk to me," Daisy asks, begs. "T- tell me... tell me about home."

There's a certain quality to her voice on the last word, a longing Jon has heard and felt and mourned before, and Jon knows without a shadow of a doubt that she means Basira. Dirt shifts around and away from them, and Jon wonders once again if their tether isn't strong enough that, in a few years, Daisy might have found the way out by herself. The thought shouldn't bring him relief after he climbed in himself like an imbecile, but it somehow does still. It means, at least, that Daisy hasn't given up.

"Basira had just left when I- she has been seeing Elias at jail. Martin's- the plan worked, by the way. He's- Elias is gone from the Institute." An empty victory. Elias might not be there anymore, but his presence still weighs down on them all, and in leaving Peter Lukas in charge he both took a revengeful swipe at Martin, and exchanged a known evil with a dangerous new threat. "Nothing else really went according to plan."

"But something did," Daisy's arms tighten around him when the Buried tries to push them apart; it hates it when they say anything positive. Jon rests his head on Daisy's shoulder; the last person to really touch Jon before this idiotic excuse of a plan was Gerry, and he -mortifyingly- finds himself comparing the two. Daisy's frame is thinner after almost seven months in the coffin and her limbs are weak with disuse, but her grip is firm and though it should be suffocating here in the depths of the Buried Jon finds it grounding instead.

And well, it's not like he has any margin of reference for- Gerry has never held him like this. The closest thing was when Melanie stabbed him and Gerry practically carried him into a cab and then up the stairs to his flat. He- Gerry's... solid, is the first adjective Jon's brain can conjure, with his broad shoulders and wide chest, and the big, heavy arms he drapes around Jon's shoulders sometimes when they walk. Not as tall as Martin maybe, but still a good head taller than Jon, and-

"Jon?" Daisy asks, curiosity in her voice instead of fear this time.

"Hm?"

"You we- you were telling me about outside." Oh.

"Ah- I- yes. Outside, I- sorry." Jon clears his throat, face burning so hot he's sure Daisy can feel it. This is ridiculous, they're- he needs to focus. What he wouldn't give for the clarity of mind that reading a statement- oh. Oh.. "Daisy."

Click.

"What is it?" Daisy tenses, and her voice has a slight growl to it. Their patrons can't reach them here, but they're still avatars, they-

"I think- I need a statement," Jon should feel guilty about asking this of Daisy when she's already suffered so much, but the Buried is pulling at him. Jon clenches to Daisy's shirt as tightly as he can; it knows what he's planning, it knows he's right. "I know it sounds- please, please trust me on this, I-"

"I do," Daisy's shaky voice cuts into his hysterical rambling. "I trust- I'll do it," she says, and Jon feels like sobbing.

"Alright," he clears his throat instead, "then... statement of Alice... of Daisy Tonner, regarding?"

Anything will do, and he Knows Daisy has stories to tell, stories he needs.

"The man that visits my dreams."

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

"How are you doing?" Melanie asks, sitting cross-legged next to him on the floor. Gerry looks up at her, the tape recorder whirring away on top of his chest. "Okay. Yes, stupid question."

Gerry sighs. It's- the fact that Melanie even cares shows amazing progress from the little monster of rage she was not a month ago. Under different circumstances, he'd feel happy about it.

"I'm better. The tapes help."

Melanie nods. "Martin has some good ideas."

"At times," Gerry mutters, feeling the familiar prickle of irritation at his stomach. He has some words to tell Martin, after what he heard yesterday in the tapes. "I still think he should have at least tried to call Jon back."

"I don't understand any of that." Melanie nudges at his side with the tip of her sneaker. "If Martin could have called him, why couldn't you?"

Gerry sighs. "I told you. It's got to be something he loves. Someone he loves, not-" he huffs, when Melanie arches an eyebrow. "You know it's not like that. You know it was never like that at all."

"I know it's not like that, but..." Melanie trails off, as if trying to find a way to say what she's thinking in a way that doesn't require mentioning feelings at all. "Is it not like that?"

"Eloquent," Gerry says dryly, but Melanie's stare doesn't waver, and he knows by now she's like a dog with a bone. "It's complicated. You'd know."

"It's why I asked," Melanie shrugs. "Turns out things usually aren't as much as one might think."

Gerry rolls his eyes. He saw her just yesterday, hanging off the arm of the tall, dark skinned woman with wild curly hair and black lipstick -very different from Martin, Gerry had thought detachedly, Jon has varied tastes- who looked down at her like Melanie could disappear at any moment.

"Did one of you get resurrected as some sort of bargaining chip for the other?" Gerry asks, because at least that part is easy to put into words. Much easier at least, than explaining how Jon somehow became a lot more than just the guy he needs to survive. "No? Thought so."

"Ass." Melanie's sneaker digs into his side a bit more viciously now. "He'll come back. He's- don't take it the wrong way, but he's like a cockroach."

"...I want to take that the wrong way."

Melanie rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean."

Gerry bites at the ring on his lip, an old habit he stops immediately when he remembers how much it used to distract Jon every time he did it, and the gesture turns bitter instead of soothing.

"Not much I can do about it anyways." And isn't that the worst part? Gerry has spent his whole life fighting the entities to save as many as he could, no matter how lost they looked. Now they took someone from him, and Gerry's hands are pretty much tied behind his back. The fact that Jon lied to him to do this only adds insult to injury, because Gerry can't even be angry at him because he's gone. "How's Georgie, anyways?" A door opens with a creak; Gerry guesses Helen will be joining them soon.

"Welcome back," Melanie says in a voice that could probably suck moisture out of the air, and Gerry turns to look at the door.

Basira stands at the threshold, and 'unimpressed' doesn't even begin to describe the look on her eyes. "We're going to have a talk," she says, and it somehow sounds like a threat.

"Cheers," Gerry grunts. Just what he needs right now.

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

"I didn't really take it too seriously, when I started learning about this world. When you have things that steal faces, or trap people in nightmare dimensions, or- somehow things that watch don't seem that dangerous. Then I went to the Institute.

I had been at Basira's neck about him for weeks. Sure, Basira and I were not at risk of being fired, sectioned officers are almost immune to that, but I did not like the thought of her getting any closer to this place, and handing evidence to a suspect under the table just felt like another line we would not be able to cross back. But truth is... her intuition had never failed us, and I was thinking clear enough to realize I was far more worried about her interest in this man than suspicious of him. I hadn't seen him yet, but every time Basira came back from their meetings with the stench of the Eye around her- I thought it had to be the place, and I started to fear she was becoming the kind of thing I had to deal with, because I wasn't sure I could do it with her.

That's when he was finally cleared of our investigation, and when she asked me to be the one to give you the updates, I knew two things immediately. First, she did like him, and didn't want to be the one to drop it on him that she'd only been using him. And second, there was definitely something off about him, because Basira didn't set me on people if she didn't have a reason to suspect.

I thought I was prepared, but- I had never met anyone with the Eye, and I had no clue of the kind of thing they do to your brain. He just asked, and I was telling him about it all of a sudden; the rain that felt like it would drown us at every second, the truck covered in grime that seemed to drink in the water to turn into mud, rather than let itself be washed away as it should. The two men that were not men, the one that was, and... that.

I think what makes monsters of the Eye so dangerous is that they're sneaky. Of course I had nightmares about that night, I had been having them for years; now they were just... More frequent. Almost nightly, and when I saw him standing by the edge of the road just staring, I thought it was only my subconscious adding him in because I didn't like him.

Basira is really the only reason I didn't kill him when I found him again; I could feel he was less human and that was enough for me, but she managed to talk me out of it. She wanted more information, and I wanted whatever she wanted, that's all it took for him to survive.

The changes were easy to miss at first. Sometimes there was an extra eye on his cheek or on his neck, but they'd always be gone when I focused on him, and how much of a dream can you really take at face value? I thought it was just my unflattering thoughts about him filtering through to my sleeping mind. Then one time he opened his mouth like was about to tell me something, and there was another eyeball there, the pinprick pupil focused on Isaac as he walked into the damned thing like taking a stroll. It's fitting, I think, that he's not allowed to talk. Just to watch, and watch, and watch.

Maybe killing him back then would have been better. Maybe I let Basira talk me out of the first and only act of mercy I have ever tried to do, because I am no longer convinced the man in my dreams is not as much of a victim as I."

"State- statement ends."

Click.

"Was it- did it help?"

"...I know the way."

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

"Do you think you can find Jon if you go in after him?" Basira asks. It's not a solid lead, but it's been buzzing in her head ever since she climbed into the cab to come back from the airport.

"Wow." Melanie whistles. "And here I was thinking Daisy and I were the murderous ones."

"I know you're tied to him, somehow." Basira ignores her. She knows Melanie has grown fond of the man, for whatever reason."Think it will be enough to find him?"

"And how do you know that?" Keay arches a pierced eyebrow. He's far too calm, for someone who hasn't let go of the running tape recorder.

"Elias told me some things. Can we turn that off?" She asks. Jon's voice is starting to make her antsy, and a part of her that sounds suspiciously like an angry Daisy sardonically asks her if she's worried about the sad little monster. Sometimes Basira wonders if keeping her partner human wasn't doing the same for her.

"Yeah, that's not a great idea," Mel purses her lips by her side, and Basira frowns.

"No no, let's do it. She wants to know anyways, doesn't she?" Keay's smirk is defiant and dry, and he punches the stop button on the tape recorder. Basira watches his expression for any change... and soon enough the cuts on his face start oozing a pitch black fluid that runs down the side of his face. He doesn't bother to wipe it away, staring her down as if challenging her to comment on it.

Basira reaches across the table, and presses play on the recorder again. "Okay, so no."

"I'm tied to Jon. It doesn't mean Jon is tied to me," the man shrugs. It almost passes as casual, if it weren't for the slight furrowing of his brow. "I can't feel him anymore."

"...I could try." Basira mutters, and stiffens when both their glances fall on her. She- it's a bad idea and it probably won't work but this feels too much like the months after the Unknowing, with everything falling apart because Basira couldn't keep things under control. "I'm- I can find things. People. At least out here I can, maybe I could-"

"Well maybe you could. Apparently I know a lot less than I thought." Keay snaps suddenly, standing up so fast Basira flinches back. "Why don't we all go throw ourselves into the Buried, huh? Make a day trip out of it." He walks out the office, slamming the door behind him.

"He's having a hard time," Melanie says, and the apology in her tone has Basira huffing angrily. He's not the only one who lost someone to the coffin, if anyone's allowed to 'have a hard time' it's her, but instead she's here, trying to fix everyone's mess as usual. "Basira?"

"What?" Her voice is angry and strained. She won't snap, she won't give them the satisfaction. She's in control.

"Don't go into the coffin." Melanie's voice is as soft as Basira has ever heard it, which is not too much, but still incredibly noticeable. "Jon and Daisy might survive it. You're just going to kill yourself."

"And?" When she turns to look at her, Melanie looks uncharacteristically troubled, until she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"And I wouldn't like that," Melanie says, like every word is a battle hard won before she speaks it. "Don't go in. It's only been three days... let's give them some time."

Basira doesn't respond, and eventually Melanie climbs to her feet and leaves the room much more quietly than Keay, leaving behind only the running tape recorder.

This is too much.

Martin working with Lukas, Jon and whatever Keay is, even this new Melanie, it's all too much, and Basira doesn't have an ounce of control over any of it. How is she supposed to make this right when nothing makes sense? When she doesn't have all the information? Basira's supposed to be the tower, steady, firm and unbreachable, the last one standing when everything else has fallen. She'd always thought Daisy needed her far more than she needed Daisy, but now Basira feels her foundations crumble, with no one she can trust to share the load with.

Her hands are shaking, and Basira clenches them into tight fists until they stop. It's alright. She'll make it work; the board has changed, all she has to do is rearrange her pieces. Plan her next move. She's worked through worse, she'll fix this one too. She just... she needs a break, a little one.

Basira buries her face in her hands, and waits until the urge to scream passes.

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

The Distortion is confused.

This is a tough problem to have, because the Distortion is usually confusing instead, condition rather than victim. Not to say the Distortion has never experienced the feeling; Michael had been plenty confused, when the Archivist accepted to walk through and instead found the door locked. But that's just the thing. Michael had been confused, whatever little scrap of twisted humanity left in him -in them, in it- was unsure of what to do next, or why he was doing this at this exact time.

Helen is not confused, but Helen doesn't have a plan either. She makes decisions in the spur of the moment, following an instinct like a figure in a fractal, pointless and non important as all her other actions, until viewed from afar. Truly, the Distortion could hardly have chosen a better host, if it had ever had the chance to choose, instead of having Michael Shelley forced into its very being. Thinking about it, the Distortion should have learned to steer clear of Archivists by now.

What was the point of keeping the tapes? Of giving them away? The Distortion doesn't know; Helen doesn't either. All they -it, she?- know is that it felt like the right moment, and that's all it comes down to, really.

It's not the right moment to reveal what they found at the center of the 'maze' -a child's game really, Robert Smirke could never begin to create something as beautiful and perfect as what Helen is by design- yet, and it won't be for a while still.

The coffin is banging, and it is the right time to open her door on the ceiling of the Archives, and drop a key next to Basira, whose shoulders are shaking with effort.

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

Martin watches as the steam from the extra mug -Jon's mug, his mind supplies, and the room around him goes a bit grayer- raises in little hypnotic swirls that pass right through his hand, the warmth of it barely registering against his skin. He's not quite in the Lonely yet, but these three days of knowing Jon is gone -that he wanted to leave, this time- has done a fairly good job of pushing him further towards-

"Oh, you're here. Great. Amazing."

Okay, tangible again. That was... that was a bit dizzying, the speed at which he was pulled back. Martin freezes at the annoyed voice behind him, and he swears once more that this is the last time he comes to the Archives break room. When he turns around, Gerard is blocking the exit, leaning on the threshold with his arms crossed over his chest and ink running down his face.

"Ehm- yes." Martin clears his throat. "Yes I am. Do you need something?" He probably doesn't need to point out that Gerard is bleeding again, right? He has to know, and it would be rude.

"I do, actually." Martin's eyes widen as Gerard pushes off from the door, closes it and locks it behind him. This is- there are only a few ways this can end and he's not looking forward to any of them. Gerard steps heavily towards him, and Martin has a split second of panic because he never learned to throw a punch, and he knows for a fact this man can- "I heard your tapes."

Oh. Oh great, this is even worse. He should've known better than trusting Helen, but this is- "...Okay, so what?"

"Cut it. I know you think you're playing Lukas, what I don't understand is what for." Gerard walks all the way up to him, forcing Martin to back up against the counter and look down at him. "What is the Extinction?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Jon cares." Gerard's blue-green eyes harden, and Martin's lips tighten into a line. "I thought it was just another way to hurt himself and you were just an arrogant fool, but after that-"

"After that what?" Martin says then, much more ferociously than he'd expected, but he feels himself grow bolder after the snap. He will not be made ashamed of loving Jon, not when it's the only thing he has left. Peter can't take it from him, and neither can this man. Martin has never had a good tolerance for hypocrites anyways.

"After that I just believe you're a fool. But a fool with a good reason, at least." Gerard's eyebrows draw together, as if he somehow still doesn't approve of this revelation. "And Jon wanted to keep you safe, more than anything."

"Well, Jon's not here, is he?" Martin says as firmly as he can, hoping it hurts the man before him as much as it hurts him.

"No he's not, but if he wanted you safe then that's exactly what I'm going to do, whether you like it or not." Gerard huffs, rolling his eyes as he jabs his pointer finger in Martin's chest. "And believe me, Martin Blackwood, when I say I will make sure I ruin any and all plans you have made if you don't work with me."

"What- you can't force me to tell you?" Martin sort of asks. As far as he knows that's an Archivist thing, but who knows what Gerard actually is-

"No, but if I heard your tapes right, we're both doing this for him." Right. Asides from someone very much taken with Jon, of course.

"You don't even know what 'this' is," Martin crosses his arms over his chest, batting Gerard's hands away. "Will you go away if I tell you?"

"Go find out."

Martin bites his bottom lip. Arguing with Gerard has brought him back completely, at least for the time being, and he's thinking fairly clearly for the first time in three days. He would know, wouldn't he? Peter is certain it was Adelard Dekker who discovered the Extinction, he keeps insisting there must be some letters addressed to Gertrude about it somewhere in the Archives. If Gertrude knew, then Gerard has to know as well, right?

"...Alright. But you can't-" you can't tell Jon about it, he wants to add, when he remembers that's... not a possibility at the moment. "Peter thinks there's a fifteenth entity. Something called the Extinction. He thinks Dekker told Gertrude about it."

Gerard's lips curl in what looks like distaste. "Might as well have. What does that have to do with you aligning with the Lonely?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. He's very cryptic about it," Martin shrugs, averting his eyes until they land on the tea mugs. He likes the Lonely. It's... easier. "But it was the deal we made when he first came to the Institute. People are... safer, this way. As long as I keep my end."

His words are followed by a silence that stretches for so long that Martin ends up looking back. He finds Gerard staring up at him with a thoughtful -if slightly unimpressed- frown.

"Keep doing that, then. Or, keep making him believe you're doing it." Gerard says after a pause. "I'll get to looking into the Extinction. With some luck I'll find something before you're too far gone."

Martin arches and eyebrow. "Peter says I'm halfway there already, and to be honest I feel that way too."

"It's alright. We'll slow it down."

"I- what? We?" The thought is sickening, as if the Forsaken itself is protesting the idea and sinking its tendrils deeper into him in response.

Gerard shrugs. "You might have enough pull on Jon that he's willing to step back and let you do this because you ask. That's not going to fly with me."

"You- you said you'd leave me alone if I told you!" Martin says, frowning.

"I said you'd find out, and you just did." The man gives him an absurdly irritating smirk.

Martin sputters angrily as his face grows hot with indignation. "Listen, I don't know how you got the idea that I want your help, but-" he stops abruptly, because Gerard before him might as well have been carved from marble, with how still and pale he's gone. His eyes are wide, his head tilted a little to the side, his only movement a sharp inhale of breath. "Uh... are you alright?"

"I hear him," Gerard says barely loud enough to hear.

Martin feels the blood leave his face as he pales to match the man. It's only been three days, it's- "are you sure?"

"What are you doing?" Gerard is already busy unlocking the door. "Move!"

But he can't, can he? He... it's too risky. And the thought of- the others will be there. Melanie, Basira, Helen. Daisy, if Jon was lucky, all of them together cramped in the small storage room, with nowhere to hide from-

"No. That's not- it's not a great idea," Martin looks down at his hands; the tips of his fingers are starting to fade again. "Go."

He doesn't look up at the angry scoff, or the door opening and closing violently, too focused on the news and the way they swirl and weigh in his chest. Jon's back, he's alive. Safe.

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

For one brief, terrifying moment, Jon is afraid they won't be able to lift the lid of the coffin. It's heavier than any wood ought to be, and they're both weakened and shaky after months inside the damned thing. They're so close, Jon thinks desperately, he can feel his rib out there, can feel the Archives calling him back, can feel Gerry out there, getting closer every second, and he pushes with a might that's not entirely his own, until the lid gives.

What hits him first is the light, and he's blinded as his pupils try to contract as fast as they can in response. Jon flinches against Daisy as there's a clattering of plastic all around them, and that's when he registers the sound of his own voice, statement after statement overlapping as each tape recorder runs at its own time.

"We're out-" Daisy mutters by his side, one hand white knuckled around Jon's dirty shirt and the other around the coffin's edge. "We're alive, we- I can't believe- what's all this?" She frowns, looking all around them at the recorders that seem to pick up in volume when they're noticed. The two of them climb out clumsily, unaccustomed to having this much space, and collapse in a tangle of limbs and leftover dirt. Behind them, the lid slams shut again, and the chains fasten themselves around the coffin. The Buried won't hunt in the same place twice, not now that two victims have crawled their way out.

"I, the- tapes? Must be dozens of-" Jon flinches again, and Daisy wraps an arm around his shoulders to draw him against her chest, when the door flies open.

"Jon you stupid-" Basira starts, and Jon can see the exact moment she notices Daisy. Her dark skin goes ashen, and her mouth falls slack. "Oh my god."

Jon is yanked forward roughly, when Basira launches forward to pull Daisy into a hug. He manages to wedge his hands in before he slams face first on the floor, but pushing himself back up is honestly a lot more effort than what he has to spare right now, so instead he allows himself to slide down until he's lying on his side. It's a good place to rest, at least, surrounded by his tapes like a bunch of lazy cats.

Basira's squeezing Daisy against her chest like she wants to meld with her, only breaking far enough to lay a long kiss on Daisy's forehead. Jon has the thought that they've both forgotten he's here, because he's fairly sure at least one of them is crying.

He did this, he thinks with a start. He got them back together, he really did save Daisy. The feeling of accomplishment, of hope that maybe he's not meant to just destroy, is almost enough to soothe the ache of loneliness as he lays there, waiting to get enough strength back to walk out and leave Daisy and Basira to their reunion.

"Fuck- Jesus, Jon." Gerry's voice is surprisingly gentle by his side, and Jon has a second to wonder how on Earth he didn't notice the man trampling towards him, before he's being positively enveloped, a broad, warm chest at his back and strong arms keeping him upright. It's- Jon doesn't even remember the last time he was hugged like this, because it feels different from Daisy's grip, and it's definitely different from what he imagined in the coffin; the scent of lavenders has faded almost completely, replaced by an acrid, metallic smell.

"Not quite," Jon mutters, his throat tight. "But I'm getting fairly good at resurrections myself."

"You're crazy," Gerry says against Jon's hair, an almost breathless snort of laughter as he gathers Jon a bit tighter in his arms before climbing to Jon weighs nothing. "Let's get you out of here."

They don't go back to the flat of course. Jon knows he could take the trip, but he's very aware that nothing will restore him quite like being at the Archives. So they end up at the storage room with the cot behind Jon's office, where Martin used to live and where Gerry first woke up, with its patched up wall and its door that won't keep anything out but that still provides a little bit of privacy at least. Gerry drops him carefully on the cot, and Jon finally gets a chance to get a good look at him.

"You're- what happened to your face?" Jon asks immediately, because Gerry looks terrible. His skin is grey and dry, and there are dark bags under his eyes, one of which sports a nasty purple bruise; there's a large gash on his forehead, his upper lip is split at the corner, and Jon finally recognizes the smell from before as ink, as he sees it bleeding out from Gerry's injuries. He reaches to touch at the wound on his lip with a shaky hand, but Gerry -whose face is starting to look more and more tired with every minute that goes by- grips it in his. "Was it-"

"Just a fall. From when you went in." Gerry lets out a long exhale, shaking his head. "Jon, what the hell?"

Oh dear. Jon sighs, steeling himself for a round. "Listen, I- Daisy was alive. I had to-"

"I don't care." Gerry leans forward, squeezing harshly at Jon's hand. "I don't- you're out now. You made it. That doesn't matter anymore-"

"Then why are you so angry?" Jon cuts in, frowning. He just saved Daisy's life, he's not about to apologize for the first good thing he's done since-

"Because you lied to me!" Gerry snaps. "You promised you wouldn't do this, but you already knew you would, didn't you? All you needed was some information, aren't you just lucky I was there to provide?"

Jon feels all the fight drain out of him as he catches the implication in Gerry's words.

"No," he shakes his head, softly at first, growing more adamant by the second. "No that's not- that was never my intention. I didn't mean to use you, I-" his words grow fainter and fainter, until his voice extinguishes altogether. How is he any different from the hunters? "Gerry I'm-"

"This is your one free pass, Jon." Gerry's hand squeezes at his again, almost too tight, as much of a warning as the serious, hurt look in his eyes. "Don't- you don't get to lie to me again. I'm done with that. I can- I will forgive your lack of self-preservation, I don't even-" he jerks his head to the side, breathing heavily and pursing his lips into a tight line.

Good. Great, yet another person Jon never wanted to hurt, broken.

After a moment that stretches for so long it becomes clear that the man before him won't speak another word, Jon shifts his hand a little to squeeze back. "...Gerry?"

And Gerry seems to deflate, a tired exhale leaving his parted lips as he looks at Jon just out the corner of his eyes. "Please don't be like her."

Jon doesn't need to ask who he's talking about, because he Knows, suddenly and painfully, with the unshakeable certainty of the Eye. Jon is- he knows Gertrude Robinson was a hero, the Archivist he'll never be. Stopping rituals, killing avatars, so dangerous Elias himself had to put her down. He also knows it doesn't mean she was a good person. Now he knows more than ever, here in the face of Gerry's broken trust, that he does not want to follow in her footsteps.

"I won't." He says, as firmly as he can when his mouth still tastes like dirt and fear. "I- Gerry, I'm sorry. I know it doesn't, uh, magically fix anything, that would be a much gentler power to have just-" he stops and clears his throat, when Gerry's sad eyes take on a hue of amusement at his rambling, feeling his face grow hot under the scrutiny. "I will not lie to you again. Ever. I'm... I've been told I'm quite bad at it anyways."

Gerry's eyes crinkle at the corners, and Jon is the one to avert his gaze now. "Terrible. I forgot you could have accomplices, though. Melanie's just as hopeless as you, but enlisting the Distortion was a good move on her part."

"Yes, uh, I can imagine Helen must be a very... accomplished liar." Jon takes a deep breath to try and get his heartbeat under control. He only succeeds in coughing out a small cloud of dust.

"Ah, shit." Gerry shifts by his side, beginning to climb to his feet. "Let me get you a statement, I'll be right-"

"N- don't," Jon asks. He tightens his grip on Gerry's hand, and while it's not enough to pull him back down, it does get him to stop moving. "Don't leave." The thought of being alone in this small, closed room sends a pang of panic through his stomach, and he can almost see the walls closing in on him. Here they're safe, as long as they're together.

"Jon-"

"I'll just- I can take a nap. I'll be better in the morning." Of course he will, feeding on the trauma of those who have confided in him, but the alternative is the corridor that feels impossibly long, and selfish as it is Jon can't bring himself to choose to let Gerry go. It's a step away from begging, and Gerry seems to hear it, because he sits back down. His eyes are heavy on Jon, loaded with an emotion he can't identify. "Sorry, it's just-"

"It's alright. I know- you just came back from the Buried, Jon. It's alright to ask for things," Gerry says, and Jon thinks fleetingly that it would be a lot easier if he actually knew what he wants. The ink on his face is dry by now, their conversation enough to at least make his wounds stop bleeding. "I could use a nap, too. Mind if I turn off the lights?"

"...I would rather you didn't."

"Fair." Silence. An arm draping around Jon's shoulders to bring him into another hug, and Jon melts into it, embarrassingly enough. It's been too long, and Gerry... Gerry feels like home. "I still can't believe you came back."

Jon wants to apologize again. For taking too long to come back, for going in the first place, for lying. For how much comfort he finds in Gerry's touch. For not being enough, when he and Martin and everyone around him deserve so much better than a man that can't help a person without hurting another.

Exhaustion crashes down on Jon, digging bone deep into him until he can't fight his eyes closing. Tonight he will feast on dreams. Tomorrow, he will be better.

[hopelesstvaddict]

Jon and Sansa's relationship is fragile because of Jon's insecurities

[So we're back. Instead of full reviews I think I'm just gonna write about specific subjects that make me pause and think, more than the general episodes]

So we've been treated with Jon's return to Winterfell and his rocky relationship with Sansa resumes. Again. Ain't this old by now ? Perhaps not.

Jon and Sansa are at their most affectionate when it comes to hugs but this second time, Sansa keeps focused on what's important. I don't really understand why Jon would take issue with Sansa speaking up at the council in the Great Hall; she brought up very valid points. Saving the world is important of course but people tend to forget what needs to happen behind the scenes in order to ensure that. I think I'm not alone in this but I also wondered why she didn't take into account Dany's army when preparing all the food storing. While that can be blamed on sloppy writing and it's fair to say that she could have at least entertained the idea, it's also fair to remember that Jon's main idea was first to mine dragonglass and then try to convince Dany to help them. Sansa was not convinced he would succeed; in her mind, Dany would only care about her throne. So far she's not proven entirely wrong. And we also have to remember that Jon didn't send any message to her for a long time and certainly not before he knelt. Probably the last scroll she got was something like 'Hey I'm ok' and then next thing she knew he had bent the knee. So by this time it was already too late to gather whatever food was necessary. Plus I think it's safe to say the entire North brought what food was available FOR THE NORTH ONLY. Obviously there wasn't much and in any case, even if she had been warned she'd have to feed many more, there wouldn't have been enough. Sansa takes care of all this, and all the political stuff - things that both Jon and Dany do not care about and have little regard for. Jon still doesn’t quite realize how much he needs Sansa to handle all of this because he doesn’t realize how important it is. Yet.

The scene that stood out the most takes place during Jon and Arya's reunion in which Jon tries to dismiss Sansa. Live reaction: Ok so we're back to this 'Jon-putting-down-his-sister' nonsense? At first view, it's quite infuriating to see Jon acting this way and it's hard to believe these two ever found a way to unite and effing retake Winterfell. But once you stop and think about it, this little exchange yields so much to analyze.

As many pointed out, Jon likely tries to revert to a childhood joke he shared with Arya when they were younger and used to diss their sister together. Fair point. Siblings often side against one another. But that shows several things. Jon has been away from Arya all series long and he doesn't realize yet that she's not his little baby sister anymore. His conversation about Needle further proves the point. In any case, Arya is having none of it and supports Sansa. We're all here for this.

Here Jon seemingly tries to diminish Sansa's intelligence. But he knows that she really IS smarter than everyone else. He knows it. So I think part of what's going on here is that Jon works as the embodiment of the last part of the general audience who still thinks that Sansa is useless and this scene was written for Arya - a known fan favorite - to dismiss this and assert her support of Sansa - to really drive home this idea. The scene with Tyrion (another fan favorite) serves a similar purpose.

Narratively, beyond Jon dismissing Sansa yet again, this reads as another instance where it's more about Jon than it is about Sansa. Several times Jon has confronted Sansa about her asserted cleverness - and all those times, she's been right - and each time it boiled down to Jon's lack of self-confidence and the need to prove himself to his sister. When she told him that Ramsey was more devious than what he thought, his first reaction was to boast about his military achievements. When she told him to be smarter than Robb and their father, his reaction was to half-jokingly dismiss her offer of counsel. This essentially is a version of him saying 'Yeah she's smart but so am I and I wish she saw it too'

This ties closely with the rest of the exchange where Arya tells him that Sansa is defending the family. Pay attention to what Jon says next - specifically the choice of phrasing it.

There is so much to draw from that line. He doesn't say 'She's my family too' or 'she's our family' or 'I'm your family too'. His choice of words means 'I, Jon, am part of Sansa's family too'. That singles out Sansa as Jon's focus for discontent. He could have said 'I'm your family' or just 'I'm family too' and that would have included Bran and Arya as well. But no, Sansa alone is who Jon focuses on. This shows that he still has some unresolved issues with her - even after all that happened between them. After two seasons of her repeatingly validating him, her saying out loud 'You're a Stark to me' he still doubts HER in particular

Perhaps that boils down to her behavior towards him when they were children since this comes up again later. A seemingly random bit of conversation but one can't help but wonder why this was brought up again. Jon and Sansa weren't close growing up and Jon is a deeply insecure person, being a bastard and all that and it's understandable that he would have a hard time letting go of all these presumptions when they all but defined his childhood. She was the sole of his siblings to make him feel like he didn't have a real place in the family (to make it very simple), hence why he doesn't have a problem with Arya or Bran. Yet.

But how can Sansa change that ? A girl can repeat her support for him so much and reassure him all the time but really it's up to Jon to get past childish jabbing and accept the woman his sister has become and that she's genuine in her concern towards him. That she's changed.

'I'm her family too' is another way of saying 'I'm part of her family too so why is she always antagonizing me/fighting me/disagreeing with me?' Jon still thinks Sansa doesn't consider him family and she's the last one not to in his mind.

The choice of words also emphasizes the 'I'. Rather than say 'she' and put focus on Sansa alone, the use of 'I' brings the sentence back to Jon and puts the spotlight on him as well. 'I am part of her family too'. As if he's saying it out loud and repeating it so that perhaps his thick brain will finally accept it. This is a clever exchange that foreshadows the existential/identity crisis that he's going to go through no later than before the end of the episode. Which renders Arya's 'Don't forget that' quite unsubtle. This will be Jon’s final storyline, the resolution of the one problem that defined him at the beginning of the story.

This need to gain Sansa's approval is driven further in the scene the two of them share later on (another candlelit setting). We have yet to see Jon interact with Bran or Arya but Jon is decidedly different with Sansa. Perhaps that's because they're the eldest. Perhaps that's because they're closer in age. Perhaps that's because they are the leaders of their House. Perhaps that's because they went to war together. In any case, Jon is wary, unsure and insecure about how she feels about him. He doesn’t look to Sansa the way he affectionately looks to Arya or Bran. A smile is rare when he interacts with Sansa. He yells, they don't see eye to eye, he feels like she belittles him, he feels hurt and at the end of it, this :

This is him asking her for reassurance. Asking for a clear answer. 'Please trust me. Please tell me that you support me'. He craves her validation. After he all but dismissed her in front of Arya. Why go see her? Why take her intel so close to his heart then ?

To which she responds 'You know I do'. Two things to take from this. First, once again she reassures him and reasserts her support and loyalty to him. Second, 'YOU KNOW I do' means 'you already know the answer'. This shows that in her mind, Jon should ALREADY know that he has acquired her undying support - probably against her better judgement. Newsflash : he doesn’t.

Can we stop now for a second and breathe a sigh of relief that Sansa has grown confident enough to be sure of who she is and not question Jon's lack of faith in her ? Thank the Gods one of them has their shit together because if she were like him, this wouldn't go anywhere.

It's possible that her not lashing out at him and instead adopting this quiet, sad behavior is also the manifestation of her own fear towards him - that he effectively abandoned her. For all the tough 'no one can protect me' behavior, anyone is going to be touched to have someone pledge to protect them.

Anyway, Sansa trusts Jon but he doesn't. It's quite interesting that he was the one asking for mutual trust before and yet he is the one in the end who can't totally do it because in his heart, he is still deeply insecure about her. Sure there were some steps made. Ensuring the safety of the North and entrusting her with it was a huge improvement. But still, we see that on a personal level he is quite not there.

The obvious question then is WHY. Why is he still insecure ? And why Sansa in particular ? The beginning of an answer can be found in the relationship he had with her while they were children and how it compares to Arya and Bran. Maybe that's just remnants of that strained relationship.

But if Sansa has changed and for the better and Jon still struggles to accept it, let's just hope that a similar situation doesn't arise with Arya and Bran. Let's rule out the latter since he's all about the zen attitude but we've already seen that Arya is not Jon's Arya anymore and that she will stand beside Sansa when needed. For now, Jon has no reason to doubt Arya like he does Sansa. When the reveal about his parentage comes out, how will Sansa and Arya react ? If he can't handle the thought of one sister seemingly doubting him, what's it going to be if it's two sisters ?

All of this insecurity regarding Sansa - for now - is at least partly in preparation of the drama that is sure to unfold in the next weeks. Jon fears that Sansa doesn't see him as family and now, he has even more reason to be afraid. All the drama that has happened between them for seasons boils down to this deep fear of not being accepted by her and now we're in for the culmination. There will be a lot of fighting, we’re told. Jon will sulk and convince himself that he was right in the end, that he wasn't part of the family and more so, that SHE was right not to accept him. Sansa on the other hand, I suspect, will mainly fight to make him accept once and for all that he is a Stark. That's the passionate fight for her this season. To make her family complete.

Another interesting thing to note - as others have observed - is that the conversation is left unfinished.

Sansa asks if Jon loves Dany and he doesn't respond. Once again, Sansa demonstrates - to us and to Jon - how perceptive she is, how well she can read people, and him specifically. As of now, Jon’s relationship with Dany is still a secret and yet she has figured it out.

What's really notable is that this is a pattern in a lot of Sansa/Jon conversations, specifically the ones where they argue in private. Compare this one to the tent scene in 6x09 or the one in 7x01 right after the council or even in 6x07 when they argue about the men they have. We have Sansa and Jon arguing heatedly then the conversation tones down to soft, sad voices and then it ends before resolution can happen, either because they choose to end it there, someone else interrupts or we simply are denied to see it.

Sansa and Jon have been arguing ever since they reunited. Every season they were pitted against each other as the siblings who fought. Now in the final season, it's still brought up and used in the narrative. Meaning that it means something, that it's important to the story. We saw that Arya and Sansa fought in Season 7. It was tied to their old bickering from childhood and ultimately it was resolved and now Arya stands by her sister. Narratively, a conflict plaguing characters has to be resolved when the story comes to its conclusion. Sansa and Jon’s storyline has been going on since Season 6 now, so their relationship HAS TO come to a resolution, one way or another. And it'll be all about Jon finally accepting that he is a Stark and about him accepting that Sansa has accepted it.

[lovemesomesurveys]

*Following the trend and re-taking and responding to my very first survey on here from December 2014...SIX years ago!*

Are you attracted to the last person that kissed you? Sigh. Very much so. <<< Wow, that was when I was all in love Joseph. I’ve long since moved on. 

What did you do yesterday? I’ve been on break for the past week and I can honestly say I haven’t really done anything. It’s been kinda nice. <<< Back when I was in school and doing something with my life and had breaks to look forward to. Now I’ve been on break since 2015 and doing absolutely nothing. Anyway, yesterday I slept in past 3PM, had my coffee, checked social medias, played Animal Crossing, watched a few episodes of The Gilmore Girls, had dinner and chilled with my mom the rest of the night while watching another special on the ID channel (they’re doing a different one every night all this week).

Something you really want right now? Hmm. I don’t really want anything at this exact moment. <<< I’d love for this hot, gross, miserable weather to go away and to just fast forward to autumn.

What were you doing an hour ago? Making this side blog. <<< Awww, can’t believe I’ve had it for six years now. An hour ago I was scrolling through Tumblr and listening to ASMR.

If you could seek revenge on someone would you? Nahh. I’m not revengeful. <<< Yeah, I’ve never been a vengeful person.

Does any part of your body hurt right now? Nope. <<< Yes.

Did anyone see you kiss the last person you kissed? Sighhhh. It’s been like two years since I’ve kissed anyone. I feel so deprived of any affection. The situation with me and ~him is complicated. Isn’t it always? <<< Ohhh boy, it most certainly was. Ha, if I felt deprived then imagine six years later.

Can you recall the last time you liked someone? Yep. Right this very second. I more than like him at this point, but like I said. It’s complicated. <<< It was such a mess. I don’t know why I allowed it to go on as long as it did. :/ I should have known nothing was going to change. Since that time with Joseph, I fell in love with Ty and I thought that was actually going to lead to something, but surprise, surprise it did not.

Would you ever get a tattoo? I want to. I’m just a big ol’ baby. <<< Yep, still am. I highly doubt I’ll ever get it done.

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? HA. That’s funny. <<< *Spongebob transition thing: Six. Years. Later.* Still single!

Who was the last person you talked to on the phone? Uhh. Probs my mom yesterday when she called from work. <<< My mom yesterday when she called from the store.

Who was the last person you talked to in person? My brother. <<< Yep.

What plans do you have for tomorrow? Coffee with Amanda. Maybe get some more Christmas shopping done. Hopefully! <<< Omggg, back when I had friends and actually did stuff! ha. And aww, Christmas shopping. Wow, going out and doing things back when we weren’t going through a worldwide pandemic. Presently, I don’t have any plans for tomorrow.  

Has a friendship ended recently that you wish had not? Not recently, but yes a friendship has ended that I wish had not. <<< All my friendships ended a few years ago...

What are you listening to right now? Hey Arnold. <<< An ASMR video.

What happened at 9:00 am today? It hasn’t been 9am yet, but I imagine my ass will be on the couch scrolling through Tumblr and watching tv. Exciting stuff, guys. <<< Ha, you won’t catch my ass up at 9AM anymore. I’ll be sleeping.

Ever given your ALL to someone who walked away? Yes. I put my heart on the line and they walked away. Awesome. <<< Yepppp. Twice.

Have you ever kissed the last person you texted? Nooo. <<< Just on the cheek.

Do you and your last ex hate each other? Nah. We don’t talk, but there’s no hard feelings. <<< Same.

What are you afraid of? Life. Death. <<< That sums it up quite well. Short and precise. 

When was the last time you were sick? Always. <<< True. I’ve also been getting this gross nauseous feeling that comes and goes that hits at random. As for a virus or something of that sort, I had a cold back in April.

Are you one of those people who are always cold? No. Although, I am right now. <<< Nooo, definitely not. I’m someone who seems to be hot a lot of the time. Like now. I wish I was cold. 

Where are your biological parents? In their room. Sleeping. <<< That’s where they are now, too. I swear they haven’t been there since then. ha.

Do you have any summer plans yet? I wish. It’s still awhile away, though. It could change. <<< There won’t be any summer plans this year.

Do you tend to waste a lot of money? On food. Always. <<< I don’t spend much on food anymore, actually. I’ve gotten better about my online shopping, too. I’ve been better at saving money these days than I used to be.

Last thing that you said out loud? “Goodnight, Jon.” <<< “Goodnight.” I’ve pretty much always done my surveys at night, so.

Do you have trust issues? It’s not really trust issues. I just have a hard time opening up in general. <<< Still have that problem. I keep a lot to myself. I’m not at all open like I am on here.

Do you think this year will be better than the last? This year is just about over, which is crazy. I always hope the next year will be better, but there’s always something. <<< Omg. This survey was done in 2014. The next year I graduated UC and shortly after that is when things started going downhill. :/

What are you doing? This pretty much. My tv is on, but it’s background noise. <<< Same, but I’m also listening to an ASMR video.

Are you a jealous person? Yes, but not like psycho jealous. You probably wouldn’t even know it. <<< Yeah. I haven’t felt jealous in a longgg time, though.

Do you think age matters in relationships? Well, yes. To an extent. <<< Yep.

When was the last time you got a haircut? I think maybe back in July. Or a little before then. I’m trying to grow out my hair now. I’m over short hair. <<< My hair was so short then, but now it’s down to my butt! I just got a couple inches cut off back in February.

Do you know anyone that smokes weed? Tons of people. <<< Yep.

Who is the last person you rode in a car with? Mom & brother. <<< My brother.

What is one thing you’d love to happen tomorrow? I’d like to get more Christmas shopping done. My plans for that are still up in the air. I can’t believe Christmas is already next week like wth??? That went by SO FAST. <<< Uhhh, perhaps get Wingstop for dinner.

Did you sing at all today? Yes. <<< Not so far.

Do you look more like your mom or your dad? My mom. <<< Yeah, that hasn’t changed.

Where will you be 2 hours from now? In bed asleep. <<< Right here in bed, probably reading for a bit.

Are there any stressful situations in your life? A few. <<< A lot.

Are your lips chapped at the moment? Nope I’m good thanks for asking. <<< Ugh, yes. I keep licking them because I have fans blowing on me all day.

When you met the person you now love, what happened?: Uh well we met through a mutual. Nothing happened right away. He pursued me first after awhile, but I wasn’t interested initially. Boy did that change. <<< I don’t understand why he did that. He was never interested in really pursuing anything with me, but sure made me think that and I fell for him. He knew how I felt about him and he kept playing me. ANYWAY, I don’t currently love anyone in the romantic sense.

Did you realize anything today?: No, but it’s early. <<< Not so far.

What do you need right now?: Sleep probably. <<< Yeah, I definitely need that.

What’s your favorite food?: Mongolian BBQ. <<< Man, I was obSESSED with Mongolian BBQ for the longest. I miss that. D: I can’t eat spicy food anymore, sadly. Ugh, it was SO good. My favorite food now is garlic parm and lemon pepper wings from Wingstop.

How are you feeling today?: Just kind of whatever. It’s 1 in the morning. <<< Hot and tired and blah.

What is your biggest fear?: Life and death. <<< We went over this already in this survey...

Describe your looks to us: Ugly? Ha. I don’t know. Look at my avatar. <<< Yeah, look at my avatar. 

Have you ever woke up next to someone and wanted to puke? UH no I can honestly say I have not. <<< Nope, thankfully.

What are you listening to right now? Degrassi. <<< An ASMR video still. 

Are you afraid of death? Very. <<< Yes.

Do you open up to people easily? No. It takes a lot. <<< I’m still that way. Even people I’m close with I still struggle with that.

Do you miss anyone? So very much. <<< There’s always a few loved ones I’ll miss that have passed away.

What are you going to do tomorrow? I feel like I’ve been asked this a billion times. <<< For real, we’ve been over this. 

Does any part of your body hurt right now? Noooo. <<< Yes.

[jonryatrash]

ADWD + Jon’s Heart

What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

I know among Jonrya shippers that this line from Jon VI in ADWD is iconic and further evidence that the good ship Jonrya is sailing strong in ASOIAF (as GRRM originally intended). I also know that there’s been some, err, tumblr discourse about the use of this line for other ships, and this is not a response to that in anyway; I’ve honestly missed 95% of that particular skirmish. 

As I was working on another meta tonight, I ran across a very curious line much later in ADWD that parallels Jon VI beautifully, so I thought I would put these two scenes together and discuss how they build upon one another.

Jon VI is the chapter in which Jon finds out about Ramsay’s marriage to fArya, and it marks an important turning point for Jon for the remainder of the book (and arguably the series itself). The quote that follows occurs after Jon reads Ramsay’s letter and has presumably been reflecting on it all day. We find him talking to Mormont’s raven and listening to Melisandre’s worship from inside his chambers. 

Jon felt as stiff as a man of sixty years. Dark dreams, he thought, and guilt. His thoughts kept returning to Arya. There is no way I can help her. I put all kin aside when I said my words. If one of my men told me his sister was in peril, I would tell him that was no concern of his. Once a man had said the words his blood was black. Black as a bastard’s heart. -Jon VI, ADWD

This particular line feels important since it’s the first time that Jon thinks about his heart in the chapter. Earlier, his heart stops for a moment when he discovers that Ramsay is to wed fArya, but that’s not quite the same thing as I’m trying to get at here. This line shows that Jon is a sworn brother of the NW--his blood has turned black and black is the color of the NW. However, his heart has remained uncolored by his oath to the NW’s. His heart remains black because it’s always been marked dark/bad/base due to his bastardy. I think the blood vs. heart here is worthwhile of our attention because we know that Jon ultimately decides effectively to betray the NW for the sake of his sister; his bastard’s heart proves too much for him to overcome. We’ll also see the phrase “bastard’s heart” appear later on, so keep that in mind.

Just after this mini-scene in his chambers, Jon leaves and eventually runs into Melisandre. At first he mistakes her for Ygritte (and idk what to make of that) and then notices that her hands are uncovered. Jon tells her that her fingers will freeze off, and this iconic exchange follows: 

“If that is the will of R’hllor. Night’s powers cannot touch one whose heart is bathed in god’s holy fire.” “You heart does not concern me. Just your hands.” “The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.” “I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” “Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …” “… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.”  -Jon VI, ADWD

First, I appreciate how Melisandre can see right through Jon’s pitiful attempt at pretending he doesn’t care and doesn’t have a sister. He tries to distance himself from Arya, yet it’s a struggle to even say her name with his voice “hoarse” and his thoughts totally occupied with her all day. 

Second, I’d like to linger on the parallel structure of the “what do you know” lines. As someone who has taught her fair share of composition and public speaking classes, I can assure you that parallel structure plays an important function in writing/speaking. The purpose of parallel structure is to elevate ideas to a higher level of importance and to demonstrate equal importance between the two parallel statements. It also functions to make statements clearer and easier to remember. Long story short, Martin is waving a giant red flag to tell the reader that these two things (Jon’s heart and his sister Arya) are incredibly important. Also, because the sentences are worded exactly the same in terms of subject and verb, “heart” and “sister” are interchangeable; you can switch their locations and the meaning of the sentences stay exactly the same. I offer this up as evidence of the claim that Arya is without a doubt Jon’s heart. 

Having explained that, the line that comes before it--“The heart is all that matters”--takes on another meaning. Arya is all that matters to Jon, particularly because Arya is the only one who could ever love this bastard brother. Arya knew that being a bastard was not a good thing to be (hence the mention of Arya fearing she was a bastard because she looked just like Jon), but she still loved Jon despite him being insert the long list of beliefs about bastards here. And it’s ultimately his heart makes Jon break from the NW in his final ADWD chapter, both his bastard heart’s traitorous ways (according to Westerosi society, that is) and his incredibly strong love for Arya, who is also his heart. 

Jon XIII is Jon’s final chapter in ADWD, and I was surprised when I reread it just how much content is packed into this chapter. There’s also many thematic parallels to Jon VI, which against serves to mark those themes as important in a variety of ways. 

In Jon VI, we first hear about the letter from Ramsay. In Jon XIII, we finally get to read the whole thing. A lot of Jonrya fans rightly comment on the importance of “I want my bride back” from the letter and how Jon echoes it in his own quest to get Arya back. When he echoes Ramsay’s sentiments (hello, parallels!), it becomes I (Jon) want my bride (Arya) back (from you, Ramsay), and offers a strong explanation for why Jon throws everything away to save Arya. Well, that coupled with GRRM’s Waterstones Letter, at least. 

At the end of the letter, Ramsay writes: 

I want my bride back. I want the false king’s queen. I want his daughter and his red witch. I want his wildling princess.

I want his little prince, the wildling babe. And I want my Reek. Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard’s heart and eat it. - Jon XIII, ADWD

In these lines, we once again see black + bastard + heart appear together. GRRM emphasizes again that Jon’s allegiance is to the NW, but also that he has a bastard’s heart that marks him as deceitful/traitorous/lustful/etc. I think all of this is to prime the readers for what comes at the end of this chapter. 

(Also, as a side note, I’m inclined to read the consuming of Jon’s heart aka Arya very sexually, which makes sense with the whole echoing of I want my bride back. Coincidentally, that echo occurs with a page of his quote). 

In the next scene (again, paralleling the shift from the letter right to Melisandre and the heart quote), Jon enters the Shieldhall and announces that he’s going to make plans to save Hardhome. These plans happen to not involve him. When he’s called out, Jon explains: 

“No. I ride south.” Then Jon read them the letter Ramsay Snow had written. The Shieldhall went mad. Every man began to shout at once. They leapt to their feet, shaking fists. So much for the calming power of comfortable benches. Swords were brandished, axes smashed against shields. Jon Snow looked to Tormund. The Giantsbane sounded his horn once more, twice as long and twice as loud as the first time. “The Night’s Watch takes no part in the wars of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon reminded them when some semblance of quiet had returned. “It is not for us to oppose the Bastard of Bolton, to avenge Stannis Baratheon, to defend his widow and his daughter. This creature who makes cloaks from the skins of women has sworn to cut my heart out, and I mean to make him answer for those words … but I will not ask my brothers to forswear their vows. “The Night’s Watch will make for Hardhome. I ride to Winterfell alone, unless …” Jon paused. “… is there any man here who will come stand with me?”  -Jon XIII, ADWD

Again, the letter is read. Then Jon explicitly states that what’s about to happen is not about Stannis and the politics of Westeros. This is a really weak out for Jon, but a nice work around based in a technicality. But, Jon explicitly says what it is about: Ramsay swore to cut out his heart. And we know from Jon VI that GRRM invites us to understand Jon’s heart to be the same thing as Arya. Therefore, Jon is riding to Winterfell because Ramsay swore he would keep Arya away from him forever--forcibly and gruesomely removing her from his life--and Jon isn’t having any of that. 

I don’t think that it’s a radical claim that Jon went to war for Arya. Even non-shippers can see that much, I’d say. But Jon isn’t just riding to save his sister, he’s riding to save a vital, life-giving part of him, Arya. He has never spoken about any of his family in such a way, except for Arya. I’d argue that based on his commitment to throw it all away (the past several years of his life and his honor) for a girl who is his heart (again, a strange comparison for siblings who aren’t Jaime and Cersei), GRRM is still planning on moving forward with his original plan for Jon and Arya. I also think Jon 2.0 is going to make Ramsay pay to a degree we haven’t yet seen.