#and so much of the rest of the chapter is animal imagery as well!

[dolphin1812]

I saw the use of “man-dog” and “man-cat” and thought it was interesting for Hugo to hyphen these phrases when he normally just includes animal comparisons as explanations for a specific action.

Then Javert appeared, and it all made sense.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

34 - Broken Love of the Dead

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 18.7k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mentions of rape, past character death, mild disturbing or gory imagery, suicidal ideation

Notes: Scenes presented in this chapter may not necessarily be in a linear order when switching from one pov to another . Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

It was often Jon would go back to that day. For the most part it wouldn't have stood out were it to play out as normal. He knew it would stick out to Bran, the first proper beheading any of them saw always did, but then they rode onward to the path home. Jon had spotted it, grabbing his attention enough that finally Theon noticed as well. Finding animals like that wasn't entirely unusual, normally though, they were small. This though, was a great sized stag. Dead on it's side with part of an antler snapped off, bloody and missing from the rest of it. Maggots and moss starting to crawl over it as whatever got it, had managed to rip open its stomach, leaving the contents spilled out.

It was as his father saw the trail of innards spilled along the path down, did they find them. Much like the other, it lay dead on the ground. Blood pooling by where the stags antler had pierced it through the neck and one leg bent as if snapping enough to force it to fall in place. Everyone was silent. It took until Theon had commented in astoundment of it's size did any others find the words to speak again. He could still recall the distant unsettled tone some way behind him from Robb saying, “There are no direwolves south of the wall.”

None knew what to do, but Jon had looked at the pups littered about their dead mother and he felt it deep. Something that told him they couldn't walk away from them, couldn't leave them. “Now there are five.” He had said, picking one up and giving it to Bran beside him when he asked, “Do you want to hold it?”

Then the arguing started. Everyone argued around him, his father putting forth what he thought was simply the most logical choice. It would be cruel to leave them here to die without their mother to protect them, and Bran begging him to change his mind. He could still hear Robb and Theon arguing as the later went to simply follow orders to put the one in Brans arms down. Everyone watched the debate but Jon.

He still to this day didn't know why the feeling was so strong, but he needed to keep them alive. If the old gods sent them here, then he had to do the right thing and be the one to protect them.

Direwolves hadn't been been spotted anywhere south of the wall in over two hundred years, and yet now there were five pups still alive by their dead mother. Found in the wolfswood right by Winterfell, found by the Starks, it had to mean something and Jon couldn't just let them go. Their mother was dead, but someone had to still protect them and Jon knew it needed to be him. It was so quick, having to figure out what to do. Everyone beside him arguing as he stared intently at the direwolves and figuring out they matched.

But they only matched, without him. There were five, three boys and two girls. Not four boys. Not six pups. It sliced at him in his heart to do so, but he knew he had to convince his father it meant something, and he could only be grateful he knew his father well enough. How many were there, not just pups, but people. And what Jon had to say.

His father, two of his trueborn sons in Robb and Bran, Theon was there, Jory was there, Ser Rodrick was there and Jon knew it was going to stand out. But so many people there and what he was about to put forth, he had to purposely keep himself out of it. If Jon was selfish, he had a feeling it wouldn't be good enough to convince him. So just as his father said sorry to Bran that his choice wasn't going to change, did he say it. And it caught his father terribly off guard by the look he turned to give him. “Lord Stark,”

Everyone turned to look at him for that, but he pressed on. It wasn't about him, it was about the direwolves. Protecting them didn't include Jons hurt that he wasn't graced to be part of this. “There are five pups, one for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. You were meant to have them.”

Now though, Jon had sat there for a good while. In his fathers old chambers around what remained of his things that had not been touched and he could only think of that. Those five pups that were meant for the Stark children and how he knew he wasn't one of them. More had occurred seconds after his father allowed them to keep the direwolves, but Jon hadn't gotten to it in his memory yet. He was trapped at only five pups.

Stuck wondering if he even had any right anymore to recall the man as his father. He still did and it couldn't stop, it almost hurt more telling himself he shouldn't think of him as father, or the others as his brothers and sisters. The truth was eating away at him from every angle.

It wasn't as if he grew up his whole life as one of them without issue. No. He was a bastard, a Snow, and the world always reminded him of that. Lady Catelyn wouldn't allow him to forget that.

It wasn't quite an aggressive hostility, but more this never ending follow of condescending words, narrowed, spiteful eyes wishing to see Jon gone forever. A tone of detesting dismissal at every step of the way. Jon knew why, he was two things to her. A shattered image of her perfect family, and the walking stain on Ned Stark's reputation. Catelyn hated, perhaps not quite just that he existed, but that he was brought home to be raised amongst her own children.

If Jon and Robb weren't the others closest companion their whole lives, he wasn't sure how he would have coped with it growing up. As soon as both boys as infants were old enough to play, they were difficult to separate and there was no avoiding having Jon be part of Catelyns day to day. He didn't get to sit with them at feasts and he never stood with them for events, but his place had been beside Robb for eleven years by the time another Stark came along.

Then the next year, and the year after that. Three years in a row did Stark children follow, and one last one some years after that, and it became as worse for him as it did better. Two of out Eddard Stark's six children had inherited more Stark traits in their appearance then Tully, and only one of those two, actually had any Tully blood.

Jon looked the most Northern, the most like a Stark, the most like his father and Catelyn resented that her husbands bastard looked more like him then her trueborn children.

But he made due, Jon was never to be said an older brother who did not adore his siblings. With everything he had, he tried to be there for them. Sansa was a little more difficult as she got older, she was Catelyns second child after Robb and her first daughter, and grew protective of keeping her husbands bastard son from getting in her way. It was easier when Sansa was young and had you around. Both of his sisters when still young had taken their turns getting quite attached to you, but only Arya's deep affection had stuck so consistently.

He missed his baby sister everyday. Arya was the one who looked the most like him, the most like a Stark so early on. She had a mischief in her blood that always managed to bring out Jon's more fun side. He felt the most like a big brother with her, she cared about her siblings too, but it was clear she favoured Jon and Jon favoured her. He couldn't help but wonder, how quickly did their father find Needle, and how quickly did he figure out it was Jon who had it made for her. He knew Arya wouldn't tell, but he would figure it out anyways. He always did.

Bran was still out there, and Jon hated that. He hated knowing his brother went willingly into the far North without knowing why. He couldn't protect him out there or even find him. Bran was the one with big dreams of adventure, he would climb almost anything he could manage and the two of them would speak of where they'd go or what they would go see. Now Bran was seeing the same North Jon had been in not so long ago, but not together, and not in safety. He had Meera and Jojen Reed with him, his direwolf Summer, and Hodor, but that wasn't always enough. The Night's Watch had over two hundred men slaughtered by the army of the dead near the Fist of the First Men, and they were far more prepared for combat then three teenagers, a wolf, and a large simpleton.

But as Jon sat there, looking at what remained of his fathers life, did he once more couldn't help but stop and wonder, did he have any right to call them his brothers and sisters now? He was their brother, respectfully their half brother, and publically their bastard brother. But now? Was he any of those things still? Did he even have a place in this home?

Unable to stop the thought, Jon pained with a tightening in his chest filled with an agony, would Robb have given him his Kingdom if he knew the truth?

Thinking of the words he used to tell himself at or beyond the wall on his worst days, thinking of his family. Something he thought so passionately when he tried riding off with the moon high in the sky to join Robb in war. Knowing too well what could be his fate should he be caught a deserter.

That if he were to die, let it be with a sword in his hand, at his brothers side. He was no true Stark, he had never been one. But maybe, he thought, he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three.

If was different now. Jon couldn't tell who he was, or what he was supposed to ever be. Almost thirty years that secret had been locked tightly away and now Jon was one of only three people who knew it, even though he likely was the last person who his father would have wanted to know. He had spent hours now contemplating it, how much of what his father had said to him, treated him as, was real?

Was a single second of it real? Jon had never felt without a father, and increasingly felt frustrated how many men tried taking a place of a father figure for him. He had one, even in death he had and wanted no father that wasn't Ned Stark, and yet?

“You are a Stark. You may not have my name, but you have my blood.”

It was one of the last things he ever said to Jon and he no longer knew what to feel about it.

It was almost morning, and Jon had yet to emerge to the world. Alone ever since leaving the crypts and he had spent the whole time jumping back and forth from anger to acceptance, from lost to sure of himself and all in between such. He had thought for a long time that the only thing missing was learning anything of his mother. But he was wrong. There were so many sides of the truth of his birth and it required silence to sift through all of it. If there was one man Jon would say he would never wish to be his blood father, it was him. But it was.

The gods were cruel, and the world unfair. The words felt like treason in his mind, but the blood of a father running through Jon Snows veins, was that of Rhaegar Targaryean.

Rhaegar had no right being his father, Jon thought. Sitting right on the edge of the bed, looking to the fire, Jon felt an increasing anger at the idea. He knew his whole life what Rhaegar had done and realizing it was how Jon came into this world made him go from a strong resentment, to a blinding hatred.

His father lied to him, the bastard who ruined his shining reputation, and let run to the wall to freeze, and yet it was a burning hatred running through him for the other. Jaw clenched, as he tried to take deep steady breaths to slow his heart back down, he knew were it not for his gloves he would've been digging his nails into his palms. Ned Stark was the father who lied, but Rhaegar was the reason Jon was born. Born beacuse the Rhaegar had-

Standing abruptly, Jon felt a weight sinking his heart to the ground as he ran a hand over his mouth trying to will it away. He didn't want to think about that, he couldn't think about that. All his life he wanted to know his mother, and all his life he had been hearing of her and her death without ever knowing it.

Jon didn't want to think about the idea of being born from that kind of violence. A violence that Jon had spent years now pretending didn't happen to him. But it happened to her, and it happened to him like some horrific curse passed between them. He didn't want to face how ill and lightheaded it made him, knowing that she did not just die Ned's sister.

Lyanna Stark had died Jon's mother.

By the time any had found him on their own will, Jon was in the godswood. He knew they would speak him no answers, but maybe they'd give him some easing peace beyond the running chaos in his mind. Two had found him, but it was the first that confused him.

As the Direwolf approached, he was not exactly the source of comfort he thought. Stopping a few feet from him, Ghost whined before looking behind him. Jons brows narrowed, “What is it?” But Ghost only whined again before stepping forward. “Ghost, what's wrong?” But just as he stood, trying to crouch in front of him to reach a comforting hand out, did Ghost surprise him.

It had happened before, but always wanting to play. A giant, feirce, intimidating direwolf who would accost Jon any time he wished for him to play and sometimes he'd get too excited and knock him over by accident. Only this time, he seemed to have done it on purpose, upset and stared him in the eyes with a deeper, more distressed whine before looking back to the nothing behind him.

Jon knew there wasn't anything, it was just the godswood and then the castle walls out to the wolfswood beyond it.

“What's gotten into you?” Silence was met, and as Jon moved to stand up did he mutter your name. “At least she's not the only one not telling me things.”

He had said to as he always spoke to Ghost, quiet with a teasing that he didn't really mean and in honest it came out without malice. But yet, Jon's gaze looked down narrow and off put, as at the mention of you, did Ghost growl. More accurately, he growled at Jon.

“Ghost-” He tried reaching out to him, trying to calm him down but instead Ghost nipped at his hand in frustration before taking off entirely. Leaving Jon standing there feeling lost before a second figure approached, likely drawn by the sounds coming from two White Wolves in disagreement.

Their voice was calm as it was when he arrived yesterday, but now it made his heart race all over again in that sinking feeling of anger. The man second to his father to have kept this secret for almost thirty years. “If you get inside his head, you would be able to figure out what it your direwolf is upset by.”

Howland Reed certainly did not miss that Jon's grey eyes painted a tint darker with anger as he looked behind him to meet his person. “He's not a pet. I'm not going to go into his mind because I don't know what he wants. We do it when we need to, not because I'm trying to control him against his will.”

But the man did not waste time in broaching the subject he had spent three decades speaking none about. “I suppose it makes sense.” His hand gesturing to Jon when he looked to the crannogman in question. “You being a man very opposed to doing to others without their consent, that is.”

Turning to see no one was around, Jon stepped right into the man's space with a whispered bite as his features came over twisting in frustration. “You spend thirty years keeping this to yourself. Is the first thing you want to say about it, mocking me? “

But Howland did not back away, nor find any shift to intimidated. “There is no mock, your grace. I wouldn't dare joke of what happened to her.” Shaking his head a little Jon pulled back as his jaw clenched so hard he could feel the strain, turning his back to him. “I was there that day, Jon. When Ned came to rescue her, I was there. I was the only other one who was left to see her for the last time and my silence does not mean it does not still haunt my own dreams.”

He didn't want to do this, Jon didn't want to talk about his mother anymore, but there was no avoiding it now. His lungs burned in his chest trying to keep a painful pressure from rising. “Then you and my father spent the next twenty four years not telling me. Not telling me that every time I heard the story of what happened to her, I was hearing about my own-”

Jon had to cut himself off before the pressure travelled too far up his chest. It wished to wrap around his throat and squeeze until choking tears came out. He didn't turn to face Howland, hoping for the man not to see how quick from anger to tears Jon had traded into.

“Tell me, how often have you spoken to others about the day Rickon died?” Jon almost turned his head to look at him, but only got as far as to the side slightly indicating at the least he was listening. “The answer I imagine is very little, if at all. Losing a sibling you love deeply, out of such bloody force? It cuts something deep inside that is not easily healed. Avenging Rickon by executing Ramsay Bolton did not make you any more willing to speak about losing him. So why would your father be expected to be so different?”

That had Jon turn back in anger, desperate to keep his voice to a hissing mutter in low tones rather then a yell for all the North to hear. “Beacuse apparently you and her are telling me he was never my father-”

“I did not say that, and I am quite certain neither did she.” Jon stared at him, almost needing to heave in breaths to circulate air through his body but he could barley use that energy to keep his hands from shaking. “The lie was never a lie to hurt you, it was only a lie long enough to keep you safe from those who would. In the twenty four years Ned Stark had with you, not once did he ever see you as anything less then his son. He saw you a son just as he returned from war and saw a son in Robb.”

Just as his voice rose, “Did he?” did Howland step closer and Jon did not back away or turn from him this time. Once more that anger slipped down and left sorrow in it's wake.

“The Mad King's youngest were smuggled to Essos, we could have done that. We could have left you with a common family to be raised where you'd never have reason to find the truth. He could have sent you elsewhere to be a ward in another Lord's care and pass you off as someone you were not.” It was that ill feeling trapped in Jon's chest again. That pressure, as his eyes slipped to the snow covered ground as Howland spoke. “I was the one who gave every suggestion we could find, but it was him, it was your father who said no. He was the one who decided the story was that you were his, that he would take you home and raise you as his son.”

“Ned sat on that bed, beside his sister who was gone, held you in his arms and said that Lyanna loved you, so he has no right to do anything less then.” Howland in his words, made no comment to how bright and watering Jon's grey eyes had become as he couldn't bare to look at anything but nothing at all. “He almost didn't even let anyone who was not him or myself hold you on the journey home, desperate to make sure nothing happened to you. He took you home, he raised you, loved you, gave you your name. Rhaegar may have been the reason you came to be, but Eddard Stark was the father who raised you. And everything he did was for the sake of protecting you, whether you will find it in your heart to accept that or not.”

Jon was surprised Howland heard his whisper at all, your name on his lips, “She said Robert would have killed me.”

He could see the man nodding slowly, but Jon found only weakness in his eyes, heart, and knees. A slow turn to sit in front of the Weirwood, as Howland came to sit next to him with the same matching quiet. Letting Jon listen and look out to the snowy landscape of his home.

“Robert barley knew your mother. They were betrothed but he had a reputation that preceded him, and it was a life of lecherous, insulting behaviour she was in store for and she knew it. He drank, and he slept with more women that most men meet in a lifetime, but that is not to say he wasn't an emotional man. Far from. He was enamoured with her, this defiant girl who didn't look at him in the way so many maidens did and he liked that about her.” From everything Jon had heard of the late King, none of that surprised him in any way.

Muttering quiet as Jons hands clenched and unclenched into fists trying to find a strain somewhere that settled his nerves elsewhere. “Then Rhaegar took her..”

“Then Rhaegar took her. Most everyone knows the story after that, but no one knew about her. Only after Robert had taken the capitol did we learn where she was being kept, and we had no idea what we were walking in on.” His voice faded out, memories of the bright shine of Dawn as it was unsheathed, and the sad smile Ser Arthur Dayne wore as if he knew he was fighting for something that wasn't quite right.

He just had no idea what that thing was until they got inside.

Howland had heard her final words, but did not come into the room until she was so close to passed she no longer was aware of anything. Mumblings of sounds only Ned so close could hear, and he knew the creak of the door was Howland. As he took the sight in, he almost felt faint.

The stench in the halls was tenfold in that room, blood was so thick in his nostrils it painted the roof of his mouth and there was a rose scent as if trying to cover it up. But all it did was mix disgustingly in the air, something pretty to hide the horror, but nothing could hide this. Lyanna looked both younger then she was and older at the same time.

Her skin flushed with sweat and a bright but desperate expression as her final moments came, and yet the year that had been taken from her took it's tole. She looked older in those same eyes and a determination that was heartbreaking. The entire bed was soaked. Blood covered it and Howland was no stranger to what kind of bloodshed it sat in the formation of.

He had no problems jumping to that conclusion, because barley uncovered to the side as if hidden away when she did not know the side which won the battle, was the bright grey eyes of an infant. Even worse, they were no more than perhaps a week old.

When she finally passed, Ned was catatonic for a while. Howland let him be. Coming to the other side to very slowly and carefully to go to the baby, he was almost thankful all outside were dead as to not hear the child crying. Having to pick them up, his heart breaking at how the baby still tried reaching for his mother, reaching for Lyanna. It was in those minutes as he waited until the crying slowed did he put it together. The timing perfectly added up, and it was also horrible.

Rumours of what happened to Lyanna ran rapid once the war started but it wasn't until much later did he understand why. Talks of prophecies and myths and Rhaegar needed a third child, and so he forced one into this world. He could still remember the way Ned almost looked in shock as he finally took that baby into his arms. Looking down at him, the baby now gently falling quiet as if just the sight of another Stark calmed them right down, reaching out as Ned grasped their little hand.

Almost unable to look away from the bright grey eyes looking up at him, and Howland knew convincing Ned not to take him in would be near impossible.

“She begged him to keep you safe. Made him promise to protect you, keep you away from it all. Keep you from the Targaryeans knowing they would try to raise you to be just as monstrous as them. Promising he needed to keep you away from Robert. Her dying was one thing to make him angry, but a whole other to-”

Jon interrupted, his voice scratched to a husk from the dry silence in his throat, and hoping desperately he was holding the sting in his eyes back. But he also knew Howland would not judge him, nor the old gods they were confessing in front of. “It's another to say she died giving birth to Rhaegar's son.”

Maybe it was worse, but Howland told him anyways. “She didn't die that way, not right away. In truth, she was likely there for a week or so. Had the men keeping her there brought help, she may have lived through it, but she didn't die right away. She had you for nine months, and then you had her for a week but..” His own voice almost cracked, swallowing it down. “The way she begged your father to promise to protect you? Most mothers could only dream to love their children, as much as she loved you in that short time you had each other.”

Just as hoped, Howland said nothing of whatever tears slipped. It was both a horrifying thing for Jon, knowing his mother lay dying for a week with him not knowing what would happen when she was gone and also something heartbreakingly comforting. Knowing that she didn't die alone. She had her brother, she had her son and the promise to keep him safe from a world that would want him dead.

“So, yes, your father lied to you for your whole life. But he fought bravely to get to his sister, and he never looked at you even in Lyanna's death did he blame you, or see you as anything but his son. I am not asking you to forgive him, or saying you should feel one way or the other. But you had a mother and father and they both did their best to protect you out of love. And Rhaegar Targaryean had nothing to do with that, or anything to do with the man you have become.”

All Jon's life, he was jealous of Robb. He was the trueborn son, the eldest who was to get everything and the world catered him to it. He always wished his father looked at him as proud as he did Robb, but it was something that felt much like the wounds littered about his chest, thinking that he wasn't the bastard that accidentally ruined his fathers reputation.

Never did Jon realize before, that he was the son Eddard Stark chose all on his own.

The cage was larger then the one the Boltons shoved you in. Enough room for three people to sit without being horribly cramped as opposed to being shoved into something small and purposley clausterphobic. Your hands all tied around one of the bars behind your backs as they travelled you all along. Keeping to the woods and far from the Kingsroad, you couldn't tell were you were being brought only that it was somewhat southeast.

You all had been quiet, not knowing what to say and you not wanting to rile anyone up. You did this as you promised and they would let them go, and you simply had to focus on that. Gendry had been tied between glaring at the archer he recognized, and watching you with sharp eyes as you only watched the darkness of the passing trees.

Sam had been watching you the whole time with an expression you were not brave enough to look towards. Something was on his mind and you did not want to wonder what it could be. Not anymore at the least. Explaining what you couldn't of your new life was simply a task you wished could pass you by for the rest of time. You didn't have answers and you were reaching the point of thinking you shouldn't want any.

The men dragging you along were preoccupied with each other, and much to your dismay, Sam had found a whisper in him, trying to lean forward to grab your attention. “So you're really her? The Queen in the North?”

Your eyes peeled over to him, a raise in your eyebrow without muttering much of a word or even shifting your expression. Only a single nod, you let the side of your head lean back against the bars as Sam leaned back again. His gaze had yet to blink, “No one knew you were there..no one in the realm even..” Once more he tried to lean forward, his voice whispering close to a yell as he tore at your heart almost in an urgent tone, “We need to get you out of here, we need to get you to Jon.”

It wasn't either of their faults, but you could feel the digging of your nails into your palms as you held back whatever was choking you on the inside. Maybe it was meant to sound angry, or resentful, but it just came out as a cracked, murmur in heartache. “He won't care.”

Sam's protests only made that feeling worse, like that choking was now stemming up from your mouth like a blossom and wrapping around your throat, threatning to squeeze. “Of course he will, you don't understand. He was devestated when he thought you were dead, I've never seen him like that. He'd be over the moon to know you were still out there-”

You shook your head, jaw clenched as if there was sunlight overhead it would've been bright enough to see the watering building behind your eyes. Neither man understood, and they both glanced at each other with a tone of worry. There was a painful defeat in your eyes as you peeled them back to look to the darkness around. “If we run, they kill you both. Just do what they say and you can go free. I don't know what these men want but they came here for me, not you.”

“You have no idea the things they might want to do-”

He meant to say it in concern, but you interrupted with a hiss. “Trust me, there's nothing these men could to do me that I haven't experienced plenty worse of.” Neither men in the present company knew what to say to that, and the look shared spoke volumes of such an implication.

Quiet for what felt like an eternity, your eyes narrowing in thought you turned back to Sam, “That sword of yours. Is that Valyrian Steel?” Saying it was, you shifted enough to look at him better, the words catching Gendry's attention as well. “Rare to find that kind of metal here, where'd you get it?”

A look akin to a bit sheepish washed over him, “It was my fathers sword- well my families, really. It was my fathers but kept it mounted on the wall. Was supposed to go to me but he said I wasn't worthy of..but I took it anyways. He can be mad all he likes but it belongs to our family. Not whoever he says it is.”

There was a feeling in his eyes of a sorrowful acceptance, like a disapointment he didn't know if he should place out for all to see. Humming low in your throat, you nodded once. “Sounds like a pleasent man. Might get along with my father.”

It caught your attention as off putting as to Gendry it felt untrue, what he said next. “I don't know about that. I wasn't raised by him, but he didn't seem like a bad person when I met him.” Your eyes narrowed as Gendry's did, a strange feeling once more slowly creeping up your spine.

Indignance shot from Gendry's own tone “Where in seven hells did you meet Kings Stannis and not think he was that bad?” He thought of the leeches as you couldn't stop wondering when along the lines did he stop becoming that man? When did your father turn into someone any would pay a passing compliment too. Between that day with Robb and Deepwood Motte, he had become someone else in your abscence that you struggled to hold the hate towards.

“Stannis Baratheon has an army at Castle Black.”

Sam didn't say it quite as such, but you heard Roose Bolton's voice through the door just as you felt the strain in your hands holding onto the blade, a slow rising of your head as you turned to listen. You and Theon not knowing the extent of what was happeneing in the world.

“Mance Rayder had an army of a hundred thousand free folk,” Tilting his head a bit to elaborate of the King beyond the wall and the wildlings less derogitory names to what he thought was an unknown audience of two. “There was a band of them that attacked us from the south that we managed to hold off, well, all thanks to Jon actually.” His eyes finding yours, noting to himself how little you gave away and how much he felt back in his early days there. When he struggled to recognize the emotions behind that stoicism in Jon himself. “Maester Aemon and myself wrote to the different crowns of the realm asking for help and your father showed up. Help with the attack on Castle Black, help with-”

He cut himself off, and that time you knew for sure Sam had seen a glint in your eye speaking as if you knew exactly what he was about to say. “So you knew him, when he had an army there?”

“Wouldn't say he's an easy man to get along with.” Gendry almost huffed a disbeliving laugh to himself at such an understatenent. “Got off to a rocky start with some, but he was the only one who answered the call. We pleaded for help from everyone who was still out there, but only he arrived to help. I haven't met many Kings in my life, but he was one who still cared. He and Jon admired each other in their own way.”

The choking in your throat was too close to the surface again, but you knew that all too well. A feeling on occasion as if he saw Jon as the son he never had. You wondered if your father would stay to his side were you to stay divided, or would any even care if wherever this cage took you, was your end? Your voice was heavy, swallowing a weight down as you had not the convincing ability to portray anything hopeful in your eyes.

“I don't know which one of us is more pathetic, the one with the dick father whose a Lord,” Nodding to Sam. “The one with the father whose a scary witch loving King,” Nodding to you and then gesturing with his chin down at himself did Gendry finish, “Or the orphan from Flea Bottom.” Sam almost tried asking how he knew his father was a Lord when the former gestured out the cage again. “I worked in an armoury in Kings Landing most of my life, and I've never seen Valyrian steel even once. You going to tell me your father's not some Lord who lives in a fancy castle?”

“Whose your father?” Looking back at him, a curious look in your eye and yet a sheepish one found its way to Sams. “Your father is a Lord, who?”

It was grim in his voice as he told you, that his father was Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill. And yet the only thing that came out of your mouth with a raise of an eyebrow after a good long pause of quiet was, “No wonder you think Stannis Baratheon isn't so bad.” The two of you shared a strange, almost morose laugh, but it didn't last, as when you had stopped for the night, it was their leader you were to be brought towards to face your accused crimes, and it was a face you remembered, and yet was more of a nightmare then the ones you saw in your minds own eye.

Death changes all whom it touches, in stay and in new life in their own ways. None were exempt of the effects of it. But on them? Flesh as if it were unnatural, soft to the touch as it looked like a milk white but darkening of decay in greys and blacks. Hair no longer a striking red that shined like Robb's in the light, but instead white and brittle as if a small pinch would send it cracking to the ground.

Ragged slashes of red ran from her eyes down her cheeks that looked as if they were dried with blood that never healed. Always to exist without ever going away or ending again. Her hood sat high on her head as it hid part of her front, but there was no doubt a slash deep across her neck, and were you to uncover what your dress hid, it looked as fatal and unhealed as the ones in your womb. But it wasn't that which was the most terrible.

Dragged from Gendry and Sam, both protesting while you went in silence accepting the fate you offered yourself too. But you didn't expect what this would bring you to. Two men kept your hands tied behind your back but dragged you across their small camp and knelt you down on your knees before her. And when she turned to look at you, you knew her eyes were the worst of it all. Her eyes seemed almost glazed over the whites of death that never returned with their full colour. Her eyes saw you, and they hated.

Death changed this thing, which had once been Catelyn Stark.

She stood silent across the large fire sat before you, and by her side stood a man you had strained to recognize, Ser Harwin. Once serving the Starks, he had travelled to Ser Gregor Clegane's Keep back all those years ago, and yet the more your eyes looked the more faces you found. Gendry said he knew some of these people, but you did too, for vastly different reasons.

Death however, did not find but two people here. No, it was as if it gathered together and forced you all to bear witness to how it's torn apart each other. The one who approached, an eye patch over one eye and many of scars littered about his person that you could or couldn't see, like the one across the neck as if he had been hanged. Your voice was rough as it spoke, something far more angry coming at him then you expected.

“Beric Dondarrian. You've seen better days, my lord.”

Silence radiated the men, so many eyes watching and some not quite without hesitation of the thick air around. He however, chuckled. “And I won't see them again. I also know for a fact you have seen days much bloodier then mine.” Knelt down in front of you, only for you to jerk your head back as he reached for you. But with nowhere to go, he only tilted you to look back at him properly. Whatever he found or did not find in your eyes, was not enough.

Motioning for them to stand you up, he pulled a dagger out and in a watching eye of curiosity, you didn't flinch as he approached with it towards you. A hand out in mid air to meet your eyes and he hummed. Voice low and thoughtful, “Death looks far better on you then it does me, but allow me to be sure.”

Before you could stop or say a word, Beric had grasped at your dress's front, a quick tear into the fabric before pulling it enough right above the skirts seam. Enough that he could tear it up enough to show the scar underneath. As he pulled it enough for all to see, they watched in silence, and you only looked up to her. Her own eyes nothing like the last you met them.

You knew with no doubt as she looked at yours, and you looked at hers, both came from one night. And somehow, both of you stood here now. You knew not what happened to her, only death. You hardly had memory of the actual slaughter, first to fall and only Robb was your memory outside of faint mumbling and voices.

Beric looked at it before pulling down the collar of part of his shirt and you could see marks littered about that killed just as much as yours. His voice almost only for you to hear, “Who brought you back?”

Only the truth came, and it was not satisfactory. “No one.”

Tilting his head in doubt to the side, he shook it slightly. “That is not how it works. I have been brought back as has the Lady Stoneheart.” So that is what they were calling this hateful thing staring at you as if wishing to shove the knife in you, herself. “Everyone is brought back by someone. Both in my company have been brought back by words of another.”

His hand gestured to the side, and you could almost laugh in disbeleif. “Thoros? Last time I saw you, you were as much a drunken fool as Robert was. Now you what? Raise the dead for outlaws and deserters?”

Coming to you, he stood beside Beric as he looked distant in his eyes and yet not quite the kind that sat in his companions of dead. “I don't raise anyone. I am only the instrument the Lord of Light works through. But you? You are not one who was raised as normal, are you?” You didn't like the way both stared at you, like they were seeing a mystery you longed to bury.

If you could run, you may have. The red god followed you like a shadow haunting over. You couldn't escape whatever it was that woman wanted of you even when she was long out of reach. “I don't know what you're talking about.” But as curious as Thoros looked, Beric looked amused.

Stepping forward he looked you as much in the eyes as a man with only one, could. “There is no hiding from this, we know as she does.” Head nodding to the bone chilling glare of silence that thing gave towards you. “She watched you die, as we saw her dead with our own eyes. You must have been brought back very soon to avoid the same fate as her. But through mercy of the Lord of Light, she was reborn as I was. As you were.”

Almost in a hiss your jaw clenched, “Your fire god has nothing to do with me. I didn't come back for him, for you, for any of this.” Gesturing with a motion of your chin to the men around. “Is that my crime? I came back against my will?” You cared not for the hate in her eyes, as you only could see the bright blue in so many lights that looked at you.

Who was this creature standing as if still the mother to Robb Stark, you wondered. Beacuse it was not his mother or yours by marriage. This was a stranger in her rotting skin. Her voice rattled as she spoke, a horrid, bleeding sound that scratched at the slice in her neck. Ser Harwin beside her, begun to speak as if for her. “You have betrayed her son and daughters-”

Cutting him off, you raised an eyebrow. “I didn't ask you, Ser Harwin. I asked her.”

Looking to her, the creature did not look back at Harwin but only held a hand up just as begun to protest. “Words do not come easy now, it is better if I speak for her-”

She looked at you, and shivered to think how close you could have come to returning as whatever this was. “If she is to speak to me, my lords, let the lady struggle through it herself.”

“You've betrayed my son.” It was strained, and it rattled ones bones but you heard it. His blue eyes were still there, and they were as real as it ever was in the best of moments together. She had no right.

Thoros stood on one side of the fire, Beric the other as you and Stoneheart stared one another down, “I died beside your son. I died with his sons blood pooling out from my stomach. I never asked to be brought back, and certainly not without him.” You felt the sting, but kept it down deep in your chest away from shining in your eyes. This thing did not deserve them. “I loved Robb, and if I could have joined him I would have.”

Now and always, you repeated as a mantra in your head. Do not let this false idol of Catelyn Stark take that away from you. Ser Davos had said the red womans words couldn't take away the love you and Robb shared, you wouldn't let it happen now.

The strain almost hurt your own throat to listen to, but you and her didn't even blink. “You sit beside the bastard, and pretend you have not betrayed my son and stolen my daughters birthright.” Your blood felt cold in front of the fire, and the sinking in your chest that you knew was about to hurt more then ever. You could beg the gods all you wished to not do this, but they would not listen to you anymore. The muscles in your neck shook from the strain it took to keep yourself steady. “My son was King, that crown belongs to the Starks, my daughter. He has no right.”

You tried not to yell, but your hands clenched tight into fists behind you and you hated that all left of your life before your death looked to you with hatred. You had nothing left, but your heart spoke to you as if only standing here with purpose to defend him if not you. “He has every right-”

It rattled like wind against window shutters, and the pain slammed into you all the same. “The North belongs to the Starks, not a Snow. My son died for you, and you repay him by warming a bastards bed like a whore.”

“Just how many of those Stark men did you fuck?

“You wouldn't have happened to play around with other men while you were gone were you?”

“Do you fuck her like a wolf, bastard? She certainly takes it like one.”

This can't be your worth, this can't be all you were brought back for. You didn't love Robb more then Jon, you didn't love Jon more then Robb. It was just how your heart divided for both of them, and it was only cruel fate that Robb wasn't given a chance as he deserved. But you were here, he wasn't, and Jon was a hundred miles away in Winterfell without you, and happier for it. You ruined his life with lies and truth and yet you still loved him, and he didn't deserve to be seen as nothing but a bastard.

Robb and Jon were always were as much as the other equally. Your heart hurt more and you dared not look at anyone. “Is that my crime so great you hunted me down like an animal for?”

Thoros however, was the one with the answer. “Everything done since are crimes against your King in the North, but you stand accused of something far different. If he is usurper, then you are the traitor responsible for it all, and you know just why don't you?”

That night was still vivid. The knife in your sisters skull, the fire which burned her and showed nothing only to be led down into the freezing cold to see Jon standing before you as wounded as before and yet alive as he ever was. You knew too well what those scars felt like under your palms and you felt a horrible pain inside you at not being able to feel them again. But you brought him back and if you had to answer to that, then you would.

Beric Dondarrian stood with a deep thought trapped within his head, looking up to the woman and almost trying to give a look to say let him handle the rest for now. Stepping forward, he pulled the blade back out only to hold a hand out to you. Keeping you in place as he circled around, cutting your restraints loose as men did the same to the ones keeping your companions hands tied in front of them.

Pulling them back you instantly moved to rub at the deeply bruised skin, a glare flickering up to the man still standing before you. “This is hardly a trial, or does your red god not believe in fair judgments?”

He took no offence to your lack of respect towards it. Shaking his head slightly, a low tone calm as could be. “The Lord of Light does not command what we do here, your grace.” Your eyebrow raised, as if to challenge on the only one of them to use a title in respect. “He guides us when we need him, but it is up to us to make this world safe from your wars and corruption. We are only men. Ghosts waiting for you in the dark. You can't see us, but we see you. No matter whose sigil you wear, Lannister, Stark, Baratheon, those who prey on the weak, the Brotherhood without Banners will hunt them down.”

You could have smashed his head into the pit of fire before you both with the screams in your ears still ringing. “Those people your men killed were the innocent. They did nothing but live in a city you hunted me down in. Perhaps you missed this part of the war, but the North fought to protect their own people, and you murdered them just to drag me out of the dark. Where is the justice in that?”

Ser Harwin beside her spoke once more so all could hear clearly. “There is no justice as long as you stand beside your bastard King.”

Any looking to you could see your muscles tensing, shoulders firming up as you tilted your head to the side before letting out a slow breathe. Catelyn had always hated Jon, and it seemed in death, Lady Stoneheart saw his very existence as a threat to that of her children and it made you sick. The biggest loves in Jons heart was for his siblings, he might have never accepted the call of King in the North had Robb not wanted it. He may have or not, but it was with a heavy heart to accept even when he stood there having every right to it.

Jon had sacrificed everything to become the leader he was. This vengeful, soulless shell of a mother wanted nothing more then to lead so she could seek blood and hate. You wanted to see Robb, tell him you were sorry this was what his mother had let her darkness turn her into. Then again, it seemed everyone in your old life had seen you for the worthlessness you came back with.

Maybe Robb would have hated you too in your new life. Everyone else you once knew, did.

Nodding to Thoros behind you, they seemed to speak in an easy silence and not a shred of sound required. Beric looking to you once more before gesturing to Stoneheart. “The Queen in the North claims all accusations and crimes of her King, and it is not for us to judge you alone. Most of our men await our arrival at Moat Cailin, so it is there we shall let the Lord of Light guide is to the truth.” Stepping into your space, you didn't back away. Only staring up at the Thoros without intimidation.

“Will the accused come with us willingly? Or will we put the she wolf back in her cage?”

It was strange to think what was the event which pushed her from Westeros in the first place. Of course it was nowhere near simple as one thing, but it was the final thing that left her without knowing of any purpose but a coin in her pocket and two words she was grateful she remembered.

As a young girl, when Arya Stark would image the great adventures she would go on, none came close to the events which her life became as a girl in Bravvos. Overhearing once Jon talk to Bran about seeing the Wall together, she recalled thinking that to make up for it she'd have to find an even grander adventurer to take Jon on to prove she was the better sibling. Of course that attitude didn't last for long but she still never lost the thirst for adventure.

It was that night on the Kingsroad with Yoren did she learn of having a list. Yoren had spoken only one name over and over before he went to sleep but it was too many on Aryas and it only grew the worse the world around her spin itself as. The first one who wronged an innocent, his name was on that list and yet right as the opportunity spun itself, she didn't take it.

Arya didn't know Brienne of Tarth and she didn't care to find out. She could stand there and say she swore a vow to her mother all she liked, but none of that mattered. She didn't know this woman and all she did know was she failed to protect her mother, and was associated too much for her comfort with the likes of Jaime Lannister. Yet when she came to claim to protect her, and the one person whose name was who first wronged someone on her list did the same on the other side? She stood by the one she never would've once thought.

She had wanted The Hound dead. Joffery had him run down Mycah all because the stupid prince threw a tantrum about them playing sword fight by the river. But then, they travelled more, spent time with one another and he went from despicable, strangely to a man who found purpose in genuinely taking care of her. He was vulgar, crude, a degree of uncaringly disgusting but he found a purpose in looking after her. Then Brienne of Tarth had come, and ruined all of it.

Saying she would take her to safety, and the Hound told the woman the truth she did not wish to hear.

“Safety? Where the fuck’s that? Her aunt in the Eyrie’s dead. Her mother’s dead, her father’s dead, her brother’s dead. Winterfell’s a pile of rubble. There’s no safety, you dumb bitch. If you don’t know that by now, you’re the wrong one to watch over her.”

“And that’s what you’re doing? Watching over her?”

“Aye, that’s what I’m doing.”

The two had fought, and when it was over, the Hound sat dying against the rocks that day, and yet Arya when returning to him, didn't do it. It was the perfect time to strike his name off her list, he even said as such. But she didn't do it. It didn't feel right. She didn't kill out of revenge, she did it to right wrongs done to people who deserved better. But maybe, she had thought, maybe Sandor Clegane had already righted those wrongs by then, himself.

He was truthful about what he did, about killing Mycah. Then when that wasn't convincing enough, he lied. Tried egging her on by claiming he should've taken advantage of Sansa when he had the chance, despite telling her almost a year earlier, that he saved her from men looking to do that very thing.

He may have done bad things, and Arya did wish him dead for a good while. But as she crouched there before him, he knew she wasn't going to do it but he tried anyways. They had gone too far, and she found a trust in him she hadn't in many she came across in a long time out there.

So she left, took what gold he had to get her by and left. Him yelling for her to kill him and she knew that she had nothing left here. Everyone she cared about taken away, lost, gone, dead. She had seen the truth in the horrors as The Hound tried sneaking her into the Twins and she could recall with a true horror as she saw of her mother, of Robb, and of you.

No place to go, and even if she did, she wasn't confident she could make it on her own. So she left.

But in a way, she never really did. Not fully. At night she thought she was dreaming of Nymeria, seeing the world as the direwolf she had to chase off to protect. But then she did it more and more, saw people she knew, people she recognized as they made their way in the world. As if she still could see Westeros through her wolf's eyes.

And it wasn't until she could do it willingly in Bravvos, seeing the world through the eyes of a small, black cat in her days as a blind girl, did she realize she was something else entirely. She would try enough and she and Nymeria found themselves together again, and she would see a pack all of her own.

It was the first time she had seen the North since leaving Winterfell. And certainty, she remembered the night she saw Ghost. The pure white Direwolf as big as her, eyes blood red and striking as he approached the pack, the other wolves watching as he and Nymeria came to the other. Arya still remembered not understanding why it felt as if through the red, a human was looking right back at her just as Nymeria had coexisting in her mind.

She wondered now, as she sat huddled in whatever shelter this was she had come across once it got dark, if it should've been harder to get used to being back. Trying so hard to become no one, be only a girl, but she had never quite given that up as they demanded. Arya was supposed to give up all her possessions that tied her to a life before, and in truth she was always doomed to fail the moment she chose to hide Needle rather then get rid of it.

It was all she had left, of her home, her family, her life, and all she had left of her brother. They asked her of a lot as she trained with them, but it was too much to give that last thing up. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the Glass Gardens, the Weirwood with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the wolfswood, the sound of the northern wind rattling the shutters of her room.

Needle was Jon Snows smile.

But as she sat there in the dark that night, it seemed either ironic, or morosley fitting for the first thing she found involvement in, was watching you protect as she came back to protect. Having no idea for what happened, how you lived despite horrifying memories of seeing you gutted, dead, and drenched in your own blood. Or why these people wanted you.

Arya didn't go looking for them first, but the found them in Nymeria's eyes already in the North and she couldn't help but follow. After all, two of them, were on her list. Only, they didn't lead the group anymore. Someone else did, someone that Arya struggled to figure out who it truly was. It looked like her, but it didn't feel like her.

And when her wolfs eyes followed in the darkness, she had no idea how you ended up there but she had seen where you were going, and where it was all said would end properly. Arya knew who took you, to where, and why. But she did not understand the deathly, hateful creature that stood before you once dragged to her.

Though she did think it strange, the two being dragged with you, she knew as well. One more then the other, but she had met the second man all the same. Yet as she returned to Westeros, many she knew once seemed to all converge on the North. Physically, she wasn't anywhere near them, but she didn't think Nymeria was enough to protect you, herself. She needed help. She needed help of the one she returned to Westeros for.

It was all a mess Arya had only parts of the story too, but as she finally left Nymeria's mind, and her pack to be her eyes if needed, she knew come morning, she'd make her way home.

To the brother she missed more then anyone in the world.

Jon didn't expect to find himself down here once more so soon. But it was not for his father he came to see. Even still now, he couldn't stop thinking of him as his father. He had never questioned his fathers love before, and part of Jon felt guilty for doing it now. But as Jon approached where the family he knew rested, he stopped somewhere he really never had before.

It was hard to tell. The statue both looking like a real person and yet features so smoothed out he couldn't help but think of why. His fathers statue had hard lines set in his ways of life, but Lyanna Stark's statue did not. But maybe she never did, because she never had a chance.

Lyanna was sixteen when she died, the same age you were when Jon had only just shared his first kiss with you. But she had been through a nightmare and came out on the other side with a son soaked in blood. The candle that was just as tended to as the rest of the crypt had always stayed lit. He knew visitors often would put a feather in her other hand but Jon had nothing.

Nothing but her blood in his veins.

He took a step closer before hesitating. He had spent his whole life wanting to know who his mother was, but she had been here the whole time and now it only hurt. What Howland Reed had described, she had Jon for a week as she lay dying. It made him feel ill, a choked feeling in his throat that threatened to turn to tears before he swallowed the weight back down.

But the step he finally took was small. Not even close enough to reach out to her. His mother all along had rested in his home, had watched over him and he wondered if she was ashamed of him. The things he had done, who he had become. Was he anything like what a dying sixteen year old girl dreamed of for her son?

Howland said it was Ned Stark who named him. Lyanna didn't give him a name, only a week together and she would not know what would happen to him when she was gone and so she didn't name Jon anything. Knowing it might be taken away. Just like he was from her so early.

He knew it was Kingsguard who had kept her there, and it almost was enough to make him angry. They had seen all of her nightmare and stood by and let it happen. Gave her no aid or help as she laid in a bed of her own blood with a newborn in her arms. They fought to keep her locked away from anyone who cared about her. Why? Why did no one help her?

Jon almost felt consumed by the thought. Taking another step, then another, Jon tentatively reached his hand out. Ever so gently did he let his fingers trail over the stone carvings of hers, and it only made him feel worse. Those men were remembered valiantly. Ser Arthur Dayne still regarded as one of the Seven Kingdoms greatest knights but he fought to the death to keep a mother and son away from their family.

Why? The Mad King was dead, the war was done, Rhaegar was dead. Why keep them away? Why was his existence so important that they sacrificed his mother to try and keep him in their hands. Why did only he matter, why did no one help her escape before it was too late? No one either was brave enough to try, or didn't care.

It threatened to break inside of him, that weight. The truth of knowing hurt more then not knowing, but he stood there wishing someone would have done the right thing and protected her when it mattered most. Stolen from her family, her home, her life, trapped away with a monster who only used her to have him. Lyanna meant nothing to Rhaegar, if she had, then his men would have had orders to make sure she was safe and alive. Instead, his existence was all that mattered when Ned Stark and his men showed up.

Just as Jon's hand trailed up to run over the cheek of his mothers statue, did he feel something even worse hit him. Stolen from her loved ones by a monster who kept her locked away, whose only use was to lay there and have a child, have a son, no matter the cost of her life or sanity. He almost stepped back an entire foot as he forced himself not to stumble, but he felt his hand shake.

Beacuse Jon wasn't actually sure if he was thinking about his mothers imprisonment, or yours.

His face twisting in an agonized horror as he looked to her face. The only difference, was that you had one person who was brave. One person who watched the nightmare and escaped with you before you were the woman in a bed of your own blood with a son in your dying arms.

Theon did for you, what noble knights like the Sword of the Morning should have done for Lyanna.

It felt dizzying, the connections in his mind. How similar both events came close to turning into, and how Jon knew if he had not been reunited with you before you were gone for good, he may have wanted to slaughter every Bolton in existence for it.

You had pleaded with him to understand the extent to which Robert would have killed him. That he couldn't go far enough to be safe from his wrath and keeping him safe was what mattered the most to his father. On the ship to Dragonstone, you were to be the one to confront Aegon and part of him couldn't stop the thought. That if Aegon was just like Rhaegar what if you were Lyanna, but he had squashed that thought. It wouldn't happen, he told himself on the ship. But it did happen.

Your torture was Lyanna's, only Rhaegar Targaryean had become Ramsay Bolton. Robert Baratheon too, helped lead a war which let him kill Rhaegar, win a victory and a crown. All of it was Jon as he reclaimed Winterfell.

The difference, the luck, was that you had lived at the end, and what Robert imagined he felt for Lyanna was nothing compared to the true love Jon felt for you-

Only he realized, maybe you didn't know that. His head was such a mess when you told him, so loud and nothing made sense and his emotions were so raw they threatened to tear him apart. But he had no fight, no battle to let that out on, so he did it to you. Yelled at you, blamed you, and he knew he had said things he regretted the moment they left his mouth.

The silent shock as you stood there when he left, Jon hadn't seen a trace of you since. Looking up to his mothers statue, Jon realized she watched it all. Watched him push away the love of his life, his own wife, the one who had suffered just as his mother had and watched Jon leave thinking he put all the blame on you.

But why would you have told him before Howland Reed had confirmed the truth? What a horrible thing to say when not sure. How would you have found out the certain truth until Howland showed up? Jon wanted to apologize to Lyanna, wanted her to know that he didn't mean to be as cold and angry to you as Roberts unruly temper had detested from her. Jon had yelled at you for what Ygritte forced him to do, and now he yelled at you for this, only this was more then worse.

He wondered briefly, was this intensity a result of being brought back from the dead, or was it just the only trace of Rhaegar in him at work. He was always more intense and raw then any of his siblings, and he loathed to imagine his father always worrying he would grow up to be Rhaegar, not Lyanna.

Your mind was a mess, something was giving you visions and dreams, something was following you and pulling you from reality and he knew you were in a sensitive state from it. If Ramsay was Rhaegar, then Jon morosely knew he had treated you as horribly as Lyanna once thought Robert would her.

Eyes trying to blink away sting before they had chance to turn into tears he didn't have the right to let fall, Jon looked back up to his mothers statue and knew this was not the son she deserved. This anger wasn't the man he wanted to be, no matter how mess his head left him scattered about in.

Before parting, he glanced at the statue of Ned Stark. Jon wondered if this secret truly mattered anymore. His parents of any kind were dead, and the only ones that showed him love, stood by the other in the crypt of the home they were all raised in.

Walking through the halls, he didn't want you to regret giving up the name Robb gifted to you, by you marrying someone who treated you like this. Someone who yelled when you had so softly and gently tried to tell him a truth you thought he deserved to know. That pain however, turned to his own panic.

Jon was in his chambers, trying to take the heavy layers off with no avail to the one in his mind, when the guard called in that Selyse was here to see him. She was calm and polite as she walked in, and waited until the door closed behind her to turn to him.

He had seen that very look in your eyes, but it being directed at him was new.

“What did you say to my daughter?” Her eyes were angry and yet her face set in stone almost unmoving in it's intention. Jon's head still filled with fog, it took him a fumbling moment to even understand what she meant. But there was little patience she came in with. “You fought with her last night,”

She didn't know, no one knew but yet he still felt a panic. Trying to interupt as he set Longclaw across his desk did he notice things that weren't there before normally. “Selyse-”

But as she stepped more into the room, he wondered if this was how scolding children felt when in trouble with their own mothers. “I don't know what was said, but I know you had come from the crypts angry and she came up later a mess.” His eyebrows narrowed at the wording, but she shook her head in frustration and turned away. Pacing mindlessly before looking back to him, eyes filled with a bit more of worry. “She is very good at hiding when she's emotional, but it is rare I've ever seen her so upset she struggled to hold off until she was alone to cry.”

Jon's heart sank, and he felt worse. He didn't know that, he wasn't sure he's ever been the one to make you cry before. But he stammered, having no idea what to say about the truth you had so carefully told him all alone. “We had a difficult night-”

Her tone increasing as was the concern and it only made Jons heart race more. “It must have been, as you have gone from sun up to sun down without realizing she has been missing.”

Jon's head snapped up, “Missing?”

The concern broke over her, once more pacing as she couldn't decide if she wanted to yell at Jon or panic. “One of the night guardsman said he thinks he saw her leave on a horse in the middle of the night and she hasn't been back since.” Jon's eyes were wide, and bright in how much they dripped with something unsettled as he leaned against the desk behind him, hands braced on the edges. “We both know that isn't like her, she doesn't take off like this, but no one knows why she left, or why she left without those.”

Her head gesturing over to a metal display, a proper place for both of your own weapons Jon had felt, and you had taken off with none of it with you. All of your blades, bow, and arrows sat just as they always would beside where Jon was to put his. Why would you leave with nothing to protect yourself, why leave defenceless?

The quiet between them was worrying the longer it went on. Pushing off the desk he ran a hand over his mouth, “Selyse, I don't..I yelled at her for something I shouldn't have..” He stopped mid thought, and step as he looked up. Not at Selyse, and not anywhere but where his eyes had landed on his cloak. Well, his old one, the white fur that normally he liked seeing wrapped around you, and you left it behind in this cold. Jon shook his head as he turned to his desk. Nothing fancy was left, but they were all small things Jon had either given you or made for you, all left out for him. As if you wanted him to know you didn't take his things.

But they weren't his. They were yours, he made them for you but you left and every bit of your things were in the room. He looked back at Selyse, something now much more panicked in his own eyes as his face scrunched trying to make it make sense to her.

“I was angry, and I couldn't think with her there and..I told her I couldn't be around her..”

It was her quiet murmur that filled in the rest of his words. “And she took it as you didn't want her around you anymore at all.” If she had come in with anger, it slipped down into her heart again at the swiftness in which the panic begun to hit Jon. Stepping towards him, he almost flinched back as she tried to turn him slightly to face her. “Where would she go? If she was upset enough to leave, where in the North would she go to?”

Jon didn't know if he couldn't figure it out because of the other noise, or if he somehow was so inattentive he didn't even know where you would go if you were upset. “We need to find out.”

Collecting himself for a moment, Jon gave up the idea of getting a second of rest. Turning to snatch up Longclaw, he directed Selyse to the door as he strapped the sword back to his person. His voice now a bit more full and direct, but there was such an edge to it that made those passing uncomfortable with his tensity. “I can start with Olly, if anyone knows where she went he would.” Selyse asking why, Jon felt the heavy weight in his chest again. “He looks up to her, gave him a second chance and took him in. He'd want to know where she was leaving for to help her.”

Coming the opposite direction, was Theon who was as on edge as Jon but with something more focused. “Wherever she went, Olly went with her. He's been gone all night and day. If she ran off he would've gone too, she's the only thing like a mother he has left.” Oh now Jon's heart really hurt. But it was only compounding his tenseness when Theon for a moment, seemed to forget who he was talking to, an anger twisting on his face. “I've been looking for her all day, where in seven hells have you even been?”

“Theon-”

But Theon was very worked up if he barrelled passed his Kings own protest. “She's been your wife what? A week? And you already yelled at her enough to chase her off?”

Jon tried to reign in his temper, he truly did but it slipped as he raised his voice anyways. “You have no idea what you're talking about- it doesn't matter, we have to find out where she is and go get her.”

He knew the man must have not been taking you being gone well, as it came out in a quiet hiss as something choked up in Theons throat tried to keep it controlled. “Like how you protected her the last time she ran away from Winterfell?”

Selyse tried to step forward, but the two men got too much in the others face as Jon seethed. Theon this time, did not back away even as Jon's voice was a deep, rough husk as his eyes tinted dark. “I died trying to leave to protect her. But you're the one in charge of her guard, Greyjoy. Where the hell were you or your men?”

The smaller woman tried to separate them, getting as far as shoving a hand against both chests to give at least space for her to look scolding between them. “This is hardly the appropriate place to argue-”

“You knew she was in a bad place, what did you even do to make her want to take off?” Jon didn't get the chance to answer that, as a stronger hand pulled him back, and another moved to push Theon a few feet away himself did they realize they were not alone.

Ser Davos spoke close beside him, trying to even the tense air out. “Maybe I'm speaking for myself, but you two standing there like you're ready to fight each other isn't going to give us any answers will it?” Jon glanced to the one who kept him back as they spoke, and just as his muscles relaxed from how tense he stood, did Ser Davos trust he wouldn't instigate anything. On the other side he watched as Howland Reed kept Theon at bay all the same and Selyse looking exasperated in between.

Howland looked at the men, “Placing blame is not helpful here. I suggest we take this discussion elsewhere to go over possible scenarios to find where she left too.”

Ghost hadn't come back since that afternoon in the godswood, and Jon could only wonder if the direwolf had been trying to tell him exactly this. And hope him not returning home meant he was looking for you like Jon should have been hours ago.

You had once said that the Iron Throne was uncomfortable to sit on, but that at least the Small Council in the Red Keep had the option to sit, whereas those in attendance were meant to stand. Knights many by choice attended and lords and ladies mostly seeking entertainment no matter if it was suffering or otherwise. Robert would sit on the Iron Throne as each member of the council had their seats beside him. Once Jon had tried to imagine where you would've sat and how you would've looked with them.

You back then, speaking that it was Aegon the First whose idea was if a King were to sit while in attendance of his people, he shouldn't get complacent. Shouldn't be comfortable, and thus the Iron Throne was notably uncomfortable and jagged as the conqueror had it made from the blades of his enemies.

For the lords and men who would attend, they would sit in seats just as the men up on the council table would in the North. Not often were they moved in favour of a clearing, but normally it would be times as now when most here had no normal spot in the main hall. But as they all stood before him, Jon did as well. If it were his lords, they would all sit as equals, but if the small folk before him had to stand then Jon would deliver that courtesy.

The ones who came to speak had kneeled in both respect and then to speak as Jon had told them they could stand. His father had once said never to trust what a man confesses when forced to speak on his knees. A pause in them as they looked up and Jon sounded much more sure but also on the air of informal as he motioned with a gloved hand. ”All of you, up.”

They were mostly villagers from Barrowton. Some days had passed and no word of you was found, and the longer you were gone the worse Jon felt about it. That perhaps, the longer you had been away the more likely it was you were kept away not of your own choice. Even in your worst of states, he couldn't imagine you willingly would abandon what were now unquestioningly your people, what was left of your family like this for good or even this long. Even if you left at the time thinking you should.

But then they arrived, and it was the urgency of those coming to him that had Jon call to what was becoming of his councillors to the main hall. Jon stood in his spot of the middle, Howland Reed sat to his left, and just slightly behind and to the side was Ser Davos taking choice to stand more so against the back wall. To Jon's right slightly behind and standing at the wall as well, stood Theon, and at the right of the main table at the end sat Maester Wolkan. Jon dared not look at the empty seat beside him which should've been where you were.

But it was the presence of two which shocked him, or three to be more accurate. If he were to guess, it had been over a year since he'd seen some of them. He had still been Lord Commander for some time after sending Sam to the citadel. Sam, Gillys son, had gone from but an infant to a toddler in that time. A bit bigger as he sat perched in his mothers arms. Hair a pale blonde but wide blue eyes and a soft face that almost could make Jon forget who the boys blood father was. Sam had taken up something of that role in his life and he knew it was only a matter of time before they had to make that choice of what to tell a boy about his father.

In Jon's mind, he wondered if the truth was worth it. A blood father who was a monster, only he didn't imagine there was a single comfort in that truth. Whatever hatred burned bright in Jon towards Rheagar Targaryean, he was nothing compared to Craster. And what Craster would do to his children, girl and boy.

Jon had once been begged by Sam to help Gilly, but he didn't. In honest, he couldn't, what was there to do for her amongst three hundred men in Lord Commander Mormont's pack as they left into Wildling territory. Maybe if it wasn't a helpless scenario, he may have wished to find a way to help her after all. The night they left, was when Jon discovered why Craster had no sons, and it didn't escape Jon once he returned to Castle Black that it was a son in Gillys care. Not a daughter.

At least he thought, his mother was alive. Sam would know a mothers love directly, and maybe that would soften the blow which in Jons truth left him feeling utterly lost.

He couldn't fathom what brought her not just back North, not just to Winterfell, but what brought her back with those of Barrowton without Sam. But held back into her front with her other arm, was a much worse for wear looking Olly, and it made Jon feel even worse then before.

For only a second did the thought occur before Jon struck it down entirely before he let that become panic. If it were that, he wouldn't be finding out here of all places and times. He couldn't find out here in front of all his people.

The villagers around them spoke of death as who he knew to be Lord Dustin, who had arrived with them as his sister in law, watched in silence with as much distrust as she gave the last day you sat in this hall with them all.

He at least, did not seem to share her need to argue. Looked to those at the front, as he stood briefly from his place with the other lords in attendance, sat at the tables now pushed to the sides. “Tell the King what happened.”

The eldest of the lot spoke grim. “I keep..I kept an alehouse, your grace. These men came riding up at night, came around in the dark and set it on fire. Lured everyone outside it did, they wanted to gather as many as they could.” The man swallowed heavily, and the blood had turned in the tales he spun. “Shot us down with arrows before they came running out. Attacked us, butchered us.”

Another spoke as the elder mans voice failed him, a roughness in his and enough scratches across the mans own person Jon knew he was speaking of first hand. “The fire was to lure us outside so they could surprise us, cut down many as they could before them others came and told us what they wanted.”

Jon asked, but he already knew the answer. “And what was it they wanted?”

Some of them looked at the other, nerves running through them all more then it was before and as Jons eyes found Olly he didn't need them to say it. There was a fear in the boys eyes he only saw once before, once when the same child came to castle black with a story of a slaughter meant to lure.

Lord Dustin had not been there to witness it, but he was a trusting voice. Prompting them, knowing of the outcome. “No one is going to hurt you here, tell his grace what you told me.”

You. These men wanted you. And these villagers from Barrowton said it as he feared. Voices erupted through the hall as Jon's nerves screamed with something almost new. So many times with you now did he feel as if his blood was set alight in burning, but now it froze over as his gloved hands prevented him from digging his nails dangerously deep into his palms.

Another spoke as the rumblings around faded out, “None of us knew she was there, your grace. Or we would've protected her we swear it-” Jon as calm as he could, dismissed their plead. It was not their job to do so, it was his. “Said they'd kill more us she didn't give herself up, shot three of us with arrows to prove it, and right away she did. Said she'd go with them as long as they left us alone and..”

They looked at each other again, and this time Lord Dustin had to have the bravery to speak it for them as he was told it. “These men said she is to not answer to you anymore, your grace.” Once more, Jon did not look as if his reaction changed and some knew that was not a good reaction to have. “Threatened her and said they would drag her here and force you to take her place if she resisted, so she allowed them to take her.”

It was dreadfully silent in the hall. None dared speak a single word in the moments it took Jon to force his heart to steady down to something less racing and painful in his chest. “Do you know who these men were?”

Many shook their heads and whispers continued. Some throwing suggestions of brigands, and what not and all the hall could ascertain is that they were working on someone else's behalf it seemed, and that many appeared to be Southerners. Nerves collecting themselves enough did Jon force that anger and panic back down, finding strength for a voice of reason. But, before he could, did a voice he never thought he would hear again speak up from the back of the gathering, as if hiding to surprise him. And it took Jon a great deal of effort not to show it.

“I know who they worked for.”

If Jon didn't feel as if his heart was about to explode from the directions it was being pulled, he might have found it in him to be somewhat amused that she had purposely stood where she stood, forcing Jon to pretend as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

She was a girl of eleven the last time he saw her, and enough time had passed it seemed most of a common crowd knew not what Arya Stark would look years after disappearing.

“The Brotherhood Without Banners. They sent hired men in to lure her out and bring her to Moat Cailin where most of the Brotherhood are camped. That's where they are taking her for trial.” The hall was deadly silent in the revelation, just as there was quiet between the shock of brother and sister. Yet both had to stand there and stay composed as long as there was a crowd.

Ser Davos behind him asking, “Trial? What exactly do they think she's done?”

Arya hesitated then, and perhaps it was really only Jon who caught it. Both with something unsettled in their eyes as she spoke carefully and he realized she was withholding the truth in front of all these people, which only made him feel more ill. “I couldn't hear that much, but they expect her to be guilty. And I know the only guilty punishment from the Brotherhood is death.”

As soon as Jon got you, it seemed as if the world was telling him that he was to be tested over and over if he could actually protect you. Nothing told him Robb struggled to stay with you, and Jon couldn't help but wonder why you two kept being so aggressively tested. He's only been with you again for months, and even less time during that have the two of you actually been something together. He couldn't lose you now.

But this was his responsibility, and so as some stood none the wiser, and others watched with a surprised knowing as quiet as their King, did Jon find words and a course of action. If they were ready to leave by nightfall, a straight ride without stop would hope be enough time to reach there. The Brotherhood was spoken to have taken two prisoners to prevent you from being tempted to run, and judging by Gilly's silent distress at the information, Jon sickeningly knew exactly who one of those prisoners were as well.

But what you were doing all the way in Barrowton, Olly would in later speak that you did not tell him beyond being there to meet a dark haired man who was using a false name just as you were.

Jon barley looked away from Arya as he dismissed his men, and the room cleared of all but two, thankful Ser Davos seemed to have enough sense to guide Gilly and Olly away for the moment. Coming around to the front of the main table, Jon moved down the small steps with slow speed before stopping as he looked at his sister. A wide, bright eyed disbelief in his eyes that was struggling to stay composed in the quiet. So much he wanted to say and yet they all tangled in his throat and he found nothing to come close to the lightness in his heart.

All that he could come up with, was as if no time had passed between seeing one another. “How do you go this long and are still that short?”

Jon was willing to bet the look on her face was identical to his, and her own voice found something held back and weighted as she asked him, “How did you survive a knife in the heart?”

“I didn't.”

The room was silent for only a moment as his baby sister could barley find a laugh in her before it all dropped close to something too emotional to handle alone. But they both missed each other too much to care, and no amount of years apart would ever change that. Quick on her feet, she ran to her brother in a second, and with every expectation, Jon still caught her as she jumped in the air to hug him.

He missed all of his family, but there were always two he felt lonely without. One of them would never be able to come back, but the other? Jon had nothing to describe how relieved he was to see Arya again, to have his baby sister back. They were there in a hug for a good few minutes, both trying to hide wanting to fall tears at being back.

He lost Robb thousands of miles away. Bran was somewhere unknown beyond the wall where Jon couldn't find him. No one had a clue where Sansa was. Rickon was buried in the crypts when he deserved to be here and reunite with his own big sister. Though, as he sat Arya back on her feet, he considered that even at eleven, Rickon might have been taller then she still was. His hands on her upper arms as he leaned down better to see her, eyes looking her over as if making sure she was indeed still here. “What happened? Everyone thought you were dead, where did you go?”

That answer for Arya was far too complicated to answer here and now. Still a waver in her voice, she shrugged. “Feels like I've been all over by now.” Looking up at him, scars on his face, dressed down just as most other men around him, and she shook her own head slightly, “I thought they were lying at first, when they said you were King in the North..you don't look much like a King.”

A laugh left him so easily, “How should I look?”

He almost didn't let her go as she stepped back to exaggeratedly look him over with a squint. “I feel like you'd look stupid with a crown.” Truth be told, Jon would feel stupid wearing one. “I like the sword though, it looks like Ghost.” Too much to say there, their strange connections to their wolves, how he got the sword and what it could do that mattered now.

But he only had one thought on the subject. Nodding down to where she kept it with a significantly held back pride. He would have thought it would be lost to the world after all this time. “You still have Needle. At least you're still small enough I don't have to have a new one made for you.”

Arya wanted to tell him about the first time she had to use it. How after months of lessons with Syrio, the first time she ever used it, the only lesson she remembered was his. The first lesson Jon gave her that day in her room, but it was too much to come out so soon. “I almost lost it a few times, but I made sure to always get it back. My brother gave it to me.”

Finding themselves in another hug, Jon felt trapped between two thoughts. She had just come back, they had only just reunited, and neither knew if they would be the only ones to ever reunite of them again. But you had told Jon the truth, and now he knew why. It was the right thing to do, and if he had one sibling that deserved to know, it was Arya.

Holding her close, Jon spoke low. “There's something I need to tell you.”

Arya hadn't been here in so long, she almost forgot what it looked like. And the brightness in Jon's eyes as he watched, it was clear to them both that this was the first winter Arya ever had, the first time a proper snowfall fell over the Winterfell godswood. As the Weirwood stood out in red as the white blended into the snow all around them.

It was easy, falling into being her brother again. The casual tone he took as he all but threw a fur cloak over her stubborn shoulders when she said she was fine. “Consider it a command.” All but shoving her playfully ahead of him out of her room, holding a smirk back when she huffed.

A quickness that he knew clearly had not had to be held back in a long time. “Just because you're a King now doesn't mean I won't hit you.”

Jon just wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving her a playful shake pulling her into his side as they had walked through the halls. “Didn't expect anything different.”

But now, he wondered if that playfulness would struggle to find itself again. He could run in his mind through every one of his brothers and sisters and find different reasons as to why telling them this truth would terrify him out of it. He didn't want to hurt Arya, but he had already hurt you.

He hadn't even heard whatever it was Arya had been saying. His heart was too fast and too loud too hear anything past how on earth he was to say this. How had you even phrased it to him, he could barley remember what you said, only what it meant after you had already spoken, and the fight his temper had caused.

Calling his name, Jon finally looked over to his sister. Interrupting whatever it was on her mind, Jon finally found something. “You used to try and figure out who my mother was.”

Taken back, Arya almost stammered for a moment not expecting this conversation. “I thought I knew some names, heard some of the guards say a few things that sounded like it could be her. Of course father never said one way or the other- Why? What's this about?”

He had to dash the hope crossing her face that they might have finally figured out the truth. The question was answered, but there was part of that answer to a question no one previously knew existed. “I know who my mother is.” Arya stepped closer, once more feeling awful in his chest at how hopeful she looked. “Before I tell you, I need you to swear to me you will keep this secret.”

Her brows narrowed, “Why?” But Jon only leaned down to her eye level, his gloved hands holding her by her shoulders and the innocent confusion made his head spin a little bit as he made her swear.

Their Uncle Benjen used to say that Arya had grown to look like he and Ned's sister. Everyone who knew her said she looked like Lyanna. But looking at his baby sister now, the years passed telling Jon that Arya was fifteen now. The same age his mother was when she was taken, the same age his mother was when she was forced to be pregnant with him.

Every step of the way, Jon felt more ill at the truth.

“I swear, by the old gods and the new. I won't tell anyone.”

Letting go, Jon struggled to let it out. You hadn't eased him into it, and in truth it was the right thing to do. Get it out there as soon as possible, but Jon still struggled to do it himself. He was only telling his sister, you had to be the one to tell Jon and it did strike him how much courage you had to do this as quickly as you did. And he lost his temper on you for it.

“I'll tell you who my mother is, but that isn't the only thing I need you to not tell anyone.” Jon inhaled, and the easing into it only made both of them more nervous. Somehow, he thought Arya was starting to look more nervous then him. “I need you to keep this a secret.” Making the choice to gently guide Arya to sit down on the stone behind her, himself kneeling more in front of her, with a quiet tone. “Because knowing who my mother is, means you also need to know who my father is.”

It was a slow descend of Arya's face from confusion to something crestfallen and silent as she looked at him. Her voice barley a whisper, “...who your father is...”

Jon nodded. And he knew she figured part of it out. The one thing left was maybe this truth would give her some comfort that they were still bound by blood. “Our father wasn't really mine.” Her mouth fell open a bit as she just sat in quiet and Jon didn't know if he should even try to figure out what was running through her mind. “But I'm still half Stark in blood, beacuse of my mother..beacuse my mother was Lyanna Stark.”

It was only the breeze of the wind that accompanied the silence. Her eyes darting as if looking through things in her mind to make it make sense. “She..but if shes your mother who would your...” There it was, why no one could even know who his mother was. Beacuse there was only one answer of a father then, and Jons heart broke. “No.” But he nodded yes, and both could see the heartbreak forming. “No, no he can't be,”

Arya knew the whispers of what happened to her as much as Jon did. And she realized as he did, what true violence had preceded his birth. Not infidelity, only blood and horror. She almost to herself kept trying to deny it, Jon in a strain tried to lean up closer to her. “Arya, my father-”

Finally, there was the anger, only she was better at hers then Jon was towards you. “No-” Standing up she shoved him, Jon followed watching her pace. Calling her name she spun back around to shove him again, the waver in her voice not even hidden. “No, you don't get to do this. You can't say that, after everything that's happened-”

Jon tried to say anything, but he wasn't even sure what would come out of his mouth. He hadn't been sure of that in days. Arya however, found plenty. “What if we're the only ones left? What if it's only us, and you tell me I'm not your sister anymore?”

She was yelling, and Jon was at least thankful the godswood muffled most sound through it's thick trees. “Arya, that's not what I'm saying.” What was he saying though? You told him beacuse he always was desperate to know his mother, but Arya had never cared about any of it beyond a curiosity.

“Do you still love our father?” Jon looked taken back, but Arya only stepped further into his personal space. “Do you still love him? The father who raised you, raised us?” Jon without any hesitation arguing that of course he does, but she kept going. “Do you still think of me as your sister or am I just some cousin to you now?”

Jon finally found a voice, offended all of his own as his raised. “No, Arya, of course I don't think that.” All these years later, and Rhaegar Targaryean still cut deep, agonizing pain into Jons family and he hated every aspect of his life that played into his now. “You'll always be my sister.”

Arya clearly was tied between letting tears fall and just shoving Jon again. “So why tell me? Our father will always be your father, your real father. The only one that matters, we're your family, not them. You're my brother. Not my half brother or my bastard brother. My brother.” Trying to argue he wanted to tell her the truth, “I don't care. The only reason I came back to Westeros was beacuse of you, everyone else in our family could be dead for all I know but I came back for you. To keep the pack together, to protect each other.”

Her voice tired itself out, and Jon almost missed the fact that she said she came back to Westeros, she hadn't just been gone, she was across the Narrow Sea. But it was her looking up at him, eyes as bright and expressive as his as she all but cracked out as the emotions took her energy from her voice.

“You're a Stark. You always have been and you always will be a Stark. Your name never had to be the same as mine to be family, and I'm not letting you change that now.” But then, from her mouth came your own name. “And she knows it too. She's out there ready to die to defend your place in our family, trying to keep you safe and I won't let you waste everything she's risking, for the people who tried to ruin our family.”

But his blood swifted over with a deep chill as he once more grabbed her attention, hands on her shoulders as he leaned down to her eye level. “What does that mean? Arya?”

The two stood in the godswood, one thinking the right thing to do was be honest and the other who took that honesty and threw it as far away as she could. Jon and Arya had missed each other greatly, and not for a second was she going to let a man who kidnapped and raped her aunt, Jons mother, have any place in their family.

It wasn't really a secret she, herself had, but it was something with as much honesty if not vastly more in a worse manner. But as he told her the painful truth, she told him of the unsettling one.

Men of the Brotherhood guided Gendry and Sam down to where many others circled around a clearing of a fire pit. They would burn your guilt for their red god, and if there was only one comfort it was that if one or the other had to do it, you would endure it tenfold to keep Jon from such a fate. As you stood frozen with the same expression carved into you, it was feeling of Beric coming to stand beside you that shook you from the fear.

“None here know death as we do. Not even Lady Stoneheart. Came back a creature of vengeance, with nothing of humanity there. We came back broken and missing parts of us we will never get back, but she awoke not even human. Just a vessel of hate.” There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice that had you swallow.

Your tone quiet, knowing he could hear you from this distance away from the men. “Why bring her back then?” There weren't tears but there was a red and watering behind your eyes watching where she made her way through the men with reverence.

Beric, was low and ashamed. “I told Thoros not too. I've come back six times and each I lose part of who I used to be, but I've never been dead more then minutes. Three days her body was in the river and I told him it was too long. She wouldn't come back Catelyn Stark, but he was sure the Lord wanted it. So now she is here, and her vengeance has guided us even if we don't like the path.” But it was his final words in that whispered conversation that made your muscles feel as if they shook from the burning corpse had.

“Your King in the North fights the dead beyond the wall, risen from the Great Other through cold and ice. But we were brought back by the Lord of Light, if they are wights of ice, we are wights of fire. Which means those flames that terrify you, lives in our blood. He wants us alive, but we must use justice to get to the proof before he can find your real purpose.”

Biting your tongue so hard it almost bled, you once more desperately, like a little girl, wished you had stolen one last kiss from Jon. Maybe you wouldn't feel as alone and terrified if you could recall what it felt like when he still loved you.

[shoujomangathoughts]

Shoujo Thoughts - Snow White with the Red Hair

This is another series that I've heard about for years and finally gave it a chance (watched the anime then immediately went to the manga). It's a series that I find very charming, relaxing and was a nice change of pace for me and my usual tastes.

I remember seeing people warning others how "you shouldn't read the manga" because apparently it gets boring and is overstaying its welcome story-wise. While I don't think everything that has happened so far is entirely necessary, I think this sentiment comes from people wanting the more romance focused parts from the beginning to remain throughout. If you haven't read the manga, Shirayuki gets (and takes) an opportunity to help her studies as an herbalist but this results in two years away from the palace, and therefore Zen. They're still together here and there, but the manga starts leaning in a more slice of life direction and the romance is a bit more subdued. I actually appreciated this and found the individual adventures and growth of Zen and Shirayuki more interesting at times as Zen tries to learn and be a better prince and Shirayuki continues her studies and tries to reach people.

Zen and Shirayuki do have a nice relationship though and I find the romance to be pretty well done. They both have that awkward energy and are trying to navigate their own lives as well as their relationship.

The presentation and world of this series is another captivating point for me. The anime was visually great and I thought the manga's art was really nice too. It has a whimsical style and shows you a lot of small interactions and details. It makes the world feel lived in and allows you to have a clear idea of the cast and their personalities. I specifically really like the visual of Lilias and its snow covered imagery (as well as the wintry outfits).

The main cast is also mostly likeable. The way they interact with each other feels natural and they each have their own charm that adds something unique to the dynamic. Even the part that had people frustrated with Mitsuhide didn't bother me as much because I could understand how that was a very in-character decision for him.

Favorite character : Obi

I do find that Obi is the most charismatic character in the series for me. He's obviously had a difficult life but he also seems so genuinely affected by having found a group of people that he comes to value. Every time he's around he adds something, whether it be a witty remark or demonstrating his ability to be a bodyguard. Yes he loves Shirayuki, but the series doesn't really show that Shirayuki loves him back (basically the series isn't really leaning into the love triangle direction). Though I do appreciate that she has on multiple occasions told him how much she values him because he does do and help her a lot. He also seems to have good chemistry with the rest of the cast (particularly in his interactions with Shirayuki and Zen though I also love his relationship with Ryu).

All in all, I've found this to be a really enjoyable series up to the current chapter (sad to see it's on hiatus, hope the mangaka is doing well). I'm not entirely sure how long it will continue as the scope of the story seems to suggest it still has a while left, but I'll be continuing it whenever it does come back.

It's been a little bit since I posted one of these but as always, thanks for reading!

[hestzhyen]

Flower Symbolism in the Edgy Sword Manga pt. 2

Greetings, internet void. It's hanabachi time. (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

Ch. 40: Flower Vase

Thinking matsumoto for the puffy guy near the bottom, to reference patience and elegance. Which seems to apply very well to John Hishaku (at least what we've seen of him so far). He's been sowing seeds for a long time now and is willing to keep waiting for them to sprout. Why else check in on Chihiro just to goad him and then peace out? He's cooking something, and he's willing to spend years doing so.

The one immediately on top of the matsumoto might be another sakurasou for deep desire. John wants something very, very much that has to do with Chihiro and the weapons his dad forged. Enough so that he murdered Kunishige to traumatize Chihiro, did 10 years of work in three to unseal Magatsumi, orchestrated this whole situation at the Rakuzaichi, and who the hell knows what else. What do you want, man?! Being able to wield Magatsumi is a means to an end, the key component... to do what, exactly? What war are you waging here and why? Gosh, I'm looking forward to the end-game with this guy already... as soon as we've had enough suffering and setup to get there.

Lastly, the one to the bottom left of the matsumoto might be a poppy? I'm the least sure of this, but if it's a poppy then it would be there to symbolize victory. John and his group are getting what they want from this shitshow of an auction for sure. It doesn't seem to matter if the Hishaku can personally recover Magatsumi or not, so whether Team Goldfish or the Kamunabi take it in doesn't matter. All has gone to plan- Kyoura was played like a fiddle and became the perfect guinea pig.

The rest are honestly hard to say. A lot of flowers have similar silhouettes and I don't like spitballing. If there's ever an anime adaptation, then seeing colours would help a lot.

Chapter 41: Bloody Field

More irises, and finally a clear shot of some very symbolically loaded flowers: white lilies.

I can't wait to rant about the extra insect stuff from this chapter too aaah

They were almost certainly present in last week's chapter too but I was hesitant to assume without it being shoved in my face. Well, here we are.

White lilies have a lot of meanings ascribed to them- purity being the most prominent. But there other layers that could add context, such as symbolizing spirituality and enlightenment. They're also often used at funerals in several cultures (including in Japan) for sympathy, remembrance… finally, and maybe most interestingly, to convey the sentiment of renewal/rebirth.

I think the last one is the most potent interpretation to ascribe here. It doubles up with the cocoon>butterfly imagery shown when Kyoura tapped in to Magatsumi's power. Kyoura's been reborn as... something. Might also be worth noting that Magatsumi means something like "curved/captured sin" so the lilies contrasting with their most common meaning really makes me feel a certain way. Maybe to symbolize the purity of Kyoura's intentions (in his own mind) while contrasting with the sheer horror of this blade's cursed nature? It could also just be a straight-up screaming at us that Magatsumi is death incarnate.

Anyway, even if it's useless to try and share thoughts about this, I do like looking at what the author might be trying to tell/show us. The best manga artists use stuff like this to give context without interrupting the flow of the story and I love how it's used in Kagurabachi so far.

Sources: https://skdesu.com/en/the-meaning-of-the-flowers-in-japanese/ https://shuncy.com/article/aster-matsumoto-flower https://mylilylife.com/guides/unfolding-the-cultural-meanings-of-lily-flowers/

https://garvillo.com/what-do-white-lilies-mean/

https://greenpacks.org/what-does-the-white-lily-symbolize-in-japan/

Hella's really cool and informative Twitter thread about Magatsumi: https://twitter.com/KaguraShiba/status/1810500858192531694

kipplemaker's clarification on Magatsumi's potential namesake: https://twitter.com/kipplemaker/status/1810252282313019666

[tomonohebi]

Yet another great episode of Bocchi The Rock adapted from a single chapter. That makes 3 now (ep 5, 6, & 7) and we'll likely get a 4th later in the season. I absolutely love how this episode was adapted so I wanted to talk about it a bit.

The first 2 minutes are spent adapting the first 4 panels and expanding upon the conversation between Nijika and Kita. I like how they built upon Ryou's awful excuses,

The anime also uses this moment to play into Kita's obsession with Ryou as in the manga it's not used a whole lot.

Skipping a bit forward to when Futari and Jimihen show up. Their appearance in manga last for only 4 panels and they don't appear for the rest of chapter.

In the manga we skip to when they're no longer in the room. The anime adds in how Bocchi got her out of the room (bribing her with an ice pop)

The episode continues with the band (minus Ryou) discussing the t-shirt design and then we get another anime original scene where the parents arrive home from shopping.

We then cut back to the band and as the topic of sports festivals comes up, the anime has another incredibly creative sequence to represent Bocchi's imagination, using stop motion animation this time.

This is then continued with a change of the aspect ratio into 4:3 and imagery more similar to that in the manga

Bocchi's wild imagination really lets the anime staff show off their creativity and I am living for it.

The next 3 minutes of the anime are entirely original, with Futari and the parents showing up.

We get to see Nijika and Kita interact with the rest of Bocchi's family. This is a really nice moment. We never got the parents meeting the band in the manga and I think it really helps flesh out her family more.

There was also a nice bit about the typhoon on the news to foreshadow the end of the episode. After they return to the room, we continue adapting the manga as usual.

Bocchi's death was adapted beautifully. The music choice was perfect for this scene. The added bit with the family coming in was hilarious.

The episode continues back at Starry and there's an anime original moment where Nijika can tell what Bocchi was thinking, showcasing how much she's come to understand how Bocchi thinks. The band has been steadily growing closer and it's nice to see that they've come to understand each other more.

After adapting the manga some more, the anime does one more original moment with Bocchi taking initiative and suggesting that they all make rain charms, just in case.

She's grown quite a lot from episode 1 and it's little moments like these that show just how much progress she's made. Still avoiding eye contact but she'll get there one day. We then time skip 2 days to the day of the concert, setting up next episode.

Yikes this post got way longer than I anticipated but I couldn't help myself. That was all I wanted to talk about this episode. This adaptation has really gone above and beyond all my expectations for it. I love how every original scene manages to perfectly capture the tone and charm of the original 4-koma manga. If it can keep this consistent level of quality all the way to episode 12, this very well may be one of the greatest adaptations of a manga I've ever seen.

[takeshitakyuuto]

Trigun Book Club reading update volume 2 part one AKA volume 1 part two

Wellllll apparently the volumes I procured are quite a few chapters shorter than the English translations (I have three Trigun volumes instead of two), so I’ve got a few more chapters to read before this section of the book club ends. I’ll be back on track once we hit Maximum though! It’s actually probably a good thing this happened, though, or else these posts would’ve been just too long.

Ch 8. Yay Meryl! So that’s why that grunt said わ

“Vash the Stampede-san” is absolutely hilarious to me

That one panel with Vash facing away from the viewer standing in rubble and the sun like a halo around his head is so beautiful

Ch 9. There’s some really interesting imagery in this chapter... Are they creating life in that boiler room?

This “angel” is kinda giving me NGE vibes. I like how I’m seeing so much of other pretentious famous anime within Trigun

Okay this angel thing is awesome

兄弟？ oh biiiiitch

How does this angel fit into the train/sand steam though? Was it just a vessel to hold and transport the angel or was the angel powering it in some way?

Neon coming to the rescue was unexpected, but I like his reasoning for it as well. What an upstanding criminal

I love the way music, and especially simple song, is incorporated into this chapter! Music is such a marker of humanity to me and it seems like it’s being used here to show the love that Rem had for humanity. Vash’s love for humanity (that we as the reader see) seems to come more in the form of physical help

That chapter was packed! If it wasn’t obvious by the amount of notes I wrote, this chapter has been my favorite so far :3 I also really liked Kaito’s involvement in this whole arc. I don’t actually expect him to ever show up again but I always love when we get a little help from the common folk, especially a younger character like Kaito. And honestly, I think this chapter sold me the rest of the way on this series.

Ch 10.　Starting off the chapter with my favorite girls? Win!

Lol hiring out Vash just so he can have some babysitters

Ch 11. A mystery in the picture... Perhaps these old people are more than what meets the eye?

Alright that mystery was solved real fast

This is my son, I hope for him to grow up to be a kind and great man. His name is Badwick. What? No, it doesn’t mean anything at all!

10/10 mustache right there

It’s probably just because I don’t usually read action series, but the action seems to move super fast. We’re all caught up on moving these parents out of the way of Bad Guy #547 and then there’s an explosion? Which is more car people

omfg Jii-san is strapped to the high heavens

Also obsessed with barrel Vash

Ch 12. Meryl is really out here being the number one badass

Final thoughts: It’s a little odd writing my final thoughts here because I’ve got one more chapter before my volume two is finished! But that chapter will be in next week’s reading update. I really liked this last arc and the themes of family that it brought with it. There wasn’t a whole lot of Vash but we all know just how much I love Milly and Meryl, so who’s disappointed? Not me. I like the character development we’re getting before the “real” plot kicks in, but overall it felt like just that- character development with minimal actual effect on the series. I’m looking forward to the meat of the series, and especially dealing with the things we’ve seen in previous chapters so far, like more backstory with Rem and hopefully more on that Angel thing. I’m also pretty stoked for more world building, as it’s a space western but right now there isn’t a whole lot of the space part of it. We’ve seen great technical advancements and those alien horse things that were in the background near the beginning but that’s about it for any space age type stuff. Another thing I’ve been wondering about is the “plants.” I’ve been taking it to mean factory type plants but I don’t yet know if I’m correct or not. I assume we’ll get more on them in the future, as they’re brought up pretty frequently, and I really want to know what they are and why they’re so important (it’s gotta be more than just “factories = good for economy” right??).

[meritatem]

When wildlife rehabilitators free animals back into their habitats, they take precautions with dangerous specimens; it's common sense not to stand close to the cage's door after it's open... that's why when Damian was sure Jason was fit to be cleared, he gave him instructions like a medical professional would, explained the layout of the safe house, pointed where to find his things and everything else he'll need and finally, took most of what he brought with him, gave him one last look and just left with a farewell, ignoring Jason's complaints in the background.

Only when he got out of the building and entered the closest one he selected to keep with surveillance, Damian activated the command to open the bed's constraints. While Todd was amenable enough for someone that had been kidnapped and put under medical procedures against his will, Damian wasn't under the belief that things would be safe for him once Jason was free. Although the Lazarus Pit had been a foreign influence affecting him physically, it didn't mean that his mental state had become stable now that it was gone. Todd was going to need time to come to terms with the things that happened to him; expecting those issues to be resolved in a couple of weeks was unrealistic, but Damian knew he'd have a better outcome if he waited some time before approaching Jason again, at the very least Todd would be less likely to shoot him again.

Damian headed towards the room he selected beforehand to do his actual stakeout and once there, he resigned himself to more waiting. Given how much he spent in silence with his thoughts in the past few days, the two hours it took for Jason to resurface to the world practically flew by. That’s what he had been waiting for: to see Jason in the screen of his laptop through the security cameras, up and ready, walking on the garage, bag on his shoulder and looking so much better after a shower, if his seemingly damp hair was anything to judge by. Jason got on the first motorcycle that caught his attention and put the helmet over his head, not even bothering with looking for trackers, so either he didn't care at this point or he was planning on ditching it as soon as possible.

And there Todd went, out of the garage using its secret entrance, free to roam the streets of Gotham once again.

This was something Damian spent so much planning for and while it had been exhilarating at the beginning, now it left him feeling like climbing a mountain and stopping just for a small respite, before being forced to keep up, carrying the invisible weight of his past. No rest for the wicked, so they said.

He gave three updates - more than enough time to cover up what he had been up to - before announcing his whole operation was a bust.

It was embarrassing to admit such juvenile overlook from his part, but when he arrived later at the bunker, the sight of Grayson, full in costume, took him by surprise. And it was something expected, logical, but the fact that Damian hadn't conjured this foreseeable imagery until now, meant he purposely avoided thinking about this inevitability, even when it was so impossible to ignore the reality of this fact... the mind certainly was capable of doing wonders when denial was part of the mix. Drake was there too, sitting in front of the computer and both of them seemed busy with something, but when Grayson noticed his presence, he turned and gave Damian his full attention.

“Hey there,” he said more warmly than he had any right to be. “Welcome back, kiddo.”

Tim threw at him a cold glance before returning his gaze to the screen and any hope Damian had of making this quick, died when Dick starting walking towards him.

“I'm sorry things didn't go well this time.”

Damian had spent too much time with Todd clearly, because his first impulse was to answer as crassly as him. “A mere setback, it comes with the territory.”

“Look at it this way, we can all work at this together now.”

“If you must.”

Like hell, Damian was going to bury everything about his cover a never brought it up again, even if he had to go and look for trouble to make it up for it.

“So,” Dick said in a playful tone and a little pause. “What do you think?”

Grayson was referring to the suit, but he must thought Damian needed the clarification because he extended his arms, trying to show better the assemble. It wasn't all different from the original suit he once donned but Damian could see the small changes... changes based on his own design, mostly in the armor. And in another time, seeing again that ridiculous bat buckle would've make him smile, but at the moment he wasn't in the mood for the small joys of life.

“Acceptable,” was the neutral answer. “Could be better.”

Grayson laughed and it was so irrational how Damian wanted to just hate it; hate a sound he treasured so much he even dreamed of it while walking the barren land of the future.

Whatever Grayson was going to say next it was interrupted by Drake, who didn't even bother in looking in their direction. “Dick, come here and take a look, I think I found something.”

“Sorry,” Grayson said, directed at Damian. “We'll catch up later, okay?”

At the same time that Dick turned around, Damian extended his arm and for a second his hand twitched with the need to grab the cape, but he stopped himself right on time, covering that hand with the other, like it suddenly had its own will and needed it to be controlled.

Before he made a fool of himself, he hurriedly retreated to change his clothes, so he could go to look for Alfred. Damian wouldn't be his parent's son if he couldn't put himself together by the time he made it to the penthouse, where he found the man in the kitchen, preparing what it must be a midnight snack, just like he always used to do when someone was down in the cave working.

“Master Damian,” he said as soon as he saw him, stopping what he was doing. “I'm so relieved to see you again.” He could've said the opposite and the tone he used would've show the true meaning of his words.

“Your lack of faith is disappointing.”

“I'll let you know my faith is always unwavering, sir.”

Ah, Pennyworth, always a lighthouse in the middle of tempestuous nights. Damian could lose everything time after time, but as long as Alfred was there, extending his hand to him, Damian could endure it and even force himself to smile while doing it.

“There was nothing for you to worry about,” he said instead. “If you have time, we could discuss the final details of my mission.” The true intention of his words was clear: he wanted to talk about what happened with Jason away from unwelcomed ears.

Alfred gave him a once-over and the disapproving twist of his mouth told Damian everything he needed to know. “I feel this little conversation will have to wait, I recommend you sleep first.”

“I'm fine.” He said out of principle, because he certainly would prefer not to have important conversations right now.

“I'm afraid this is nonnegotiable, Master Damian.”

“Very well, I'll be talking to you in a few hours then.” He gave a small bow as a goodbye and he turned around to leave, but before taking the first step he added. “It's good to see you were fine in my absence.”

That was the closest he could manage to said he missed Alfred, but it was understood regardless.

Damian took a so much needed shower and while it was refreshing enough, it did little to relax him. After he made a quick check to make sure everything was in place in his room, he turned off the lights and climbed on the bed; at this point in his night routine is when he'd usually took the earbuds and music player that were on the nightstand, so he could sleep without waking up at the smallest sound. But today he made no attempt to move and just lied there, eyes wide open even if the only thing he could see was the darkness surrounding him.

When his eyes filled with tears to the point where they threatened to fall out, he just absentmindedly wiped them with the tips of his left index and thumb. Normally crying came with warnings: a lump in his throat, a tickle in his nose, a sting in his eyes... it was rarely this easy and sudden, leaving him unable to just will the tears away; he turned to his right side, curling up and hiding his head under his arms and the pillow. The whole time Damian didn't make a sound even when he had to start breathing through his mouth.

He left behind the League long ago... but crying still felt like a sin.

The next day found him in a better mood for his conversation with Pennyworth... at least what it passed for better given the circumstances.

When he first decided to talk with Alfred about this mystical cure he knew about - which design he attributed to one of his tutors as a side project from his mother - and how it could help Jason, Damian tried really hard to convey the sincerity of his intentions and the mastery of his skills to pull it off.

Alfred asked question after question and Damian did his best to be as truthful as possible, without giving away his ruse of just being the right kind of person at the right time and place. Astonishingly, Pennyworth agreed that something like what Damian wanted to do was better left under wraps, because even if Dick knew that helping Jason was the right thing to do, he'd be more reticent in doing something so drastic, not without proof that Damian was saying the truth or being completely sure it'd work; it was a testament then, of how much trust he had gained from Pennyworth for him to go along with Damian's plans without doubting his methods. Damian wasn't sure if he really changed enough for an adult to finally recognize he wasn't just a stupid child, one with too many skills for his own good, or if somehow this was just Alfred being terribly conditioned by his father into doing morally questionable things in secret. Whatever the case, it was a godsend for someone trying to change the past without risking the future.

Tea time was the most appropriate moment to talk about Damian's little adventures in kidnapping and after he was done explaining the important parts, he took out a pen drive from one of his pockets and put it in the middle of the table.

“It contains my whole conversation with him, although you might want to skip my readings.”

Alfred looked at the pen drive like it was an object he was seeing for the first time and not being very impressed with it. “I think it's for the best if you destroy it,” he held the cup of tea that was in front of him and took a sip. “Some things are better left between two people.”

It wasn't the answer that Damian was expecting, but it was entirely just like Pennyworth to said something like that. He retrieved the pen drive and put it back where it had been previously and none of them say anything for a moment. Damian distracted himself by watching his reflection on his own cup of tea, still hating Earl Gray but drinking it anyway, because Alfred liked it.

“I don't believe things have changed,” Damian finally said. “But whatever happens now it's going to be entirely on him.”

They spoke about that a couple of times already, about how it was the most likely possibility that Todd was still going to raise chaos whenever he went, Lazarus' side effects or not. The only thing Damian did was to give him back agency and in a way, make him more dangerous. Jason with stupid ideas like dressing like a rejected superhero and challenging all the criminals in a hundred-mile radius, had still been manageable enough for an unwilling Batman and a bellicose Robin... but Todd with the advantage of a clear head? Well... good luck, Grayson and Drake, Damian was out.

But despite the discouraging prediction, Damian was convinced that Jason would follow a similar pattern to the Todd he knew, because as time passed, Todd relented on his own and gradually came around, becoming part of their tragic family again. Maybe this time Todd could stay away from this whole “bat-family” mess, surely it would save him a lot of heartbreak, of that Damian could attest well.

“And that's all I wanted for,” Alfred answered, more soft and open. “Master Jason has been through so much, at the very least he deserves the right of choosing the path he wants to follow, on his own. And for that I will be forever grateful, my boy.”

“Pennyworth, please, I'm allergic to niceties.”

Alfred didn't insist because in the course of their coexistence, he realized very early that Damian didn't feel comfortable with displays of affection or gratitude, something Alfred assumed had to do with his upbringing. The truth of course, was more complicated, because the current reason was that Damian didn't feel like he deserved any of those demonstrations; he wasn't being selfless or self-sacrificing in his actions, it was the complete opposite: he was desperately trying to amend the biggest mistake of his life, even if it meant breaking the laws of time and space, because that's how big his regret and egoism were.

And speaking of mistakes...

“There's something else I'd like to discuss, this too, requires your discretion.”

“Oh,” Alfred raised both eyebrows, preparing himself to hear something shocking because the first time Damian asked for something like this, he told him about the Lazarus Pit and his intentions for Jason. “Do tell.”

“I want to acquire a property from my father's state, I'll pay its fair price, of course. There's a project I want to start now that I have back my own founds.”

“I'm sure this can be easily solved, I don't think there's a need for you to pay to have access to the family's state. What asset are you interested in?”

Damian straightened up against the back of the chair and put his hands over the table, intertwining his fingers. “The MacDubh Castle in the Gaweyne Island.”

“...oh, my.”

Usually when Damian called for Colin, he did it late in the night, when he knew Colin was already out doing his own business. This time however, he asked if it's was possible for them to meet as early as ten o'clock.

That's how he found himself waiting at the agreed hour, sitting on the roof's edge of one of the buildings that were next to the street he asked Colin to meet. To Colin's credit, he was late only fifteen minutes and Damian couldn't help but smile at seeing his figure approaching under the street's lights, looking like the most untrustworthy character with that terrible trench coat and hat. Clearly it was about time Damian did something to remedy that attire.  

Colin stopped close to the corner looking for him, first in his surroundings and then, because he knew him well at this point, he looked up, finding him without much trouble, happily waving a hand at him. Damian chose that moment to stand up and then, without even thinking about it, he jumped, arms firmly grasping his cape and spreading it against the wind. Colin seemed positively awed when he securely landed in front of him, something he missed being able to do due to the lack of appropriate equipment made especially for him. 

“You have a new costume!”

Of course only a kid would pay more attention to that than the reason of their meeting or Damian gliding from a building. Calling it new was an exaggeration, it was basically the same design as his League uniform but everything was black; from head to toe there wasn't even the smallest flicker of color, nor there existed any design or symbol that could exhibit an allegiance or selfhood. The bigger changes were only the pointy ends of his cape and the laced up boots he had been thinking about. Outside of that, Damian was just a shadow. In more ways than one.

“Now you really look like a ninja!”

“I can take you down.” Colin laughed and Damian turned around so he could hide the slight twitch of his mouth that betrayed a smile, and started to walk. “Let’s go before it gets too late.”

Contrary to what one would expect, Colin didn't ask where were they going but hurried to his side excitedly. “You were right!”

“I'm right about a lot of things, you have to be more specific.”

Colin playfully showed him, always mindful of their size difference, so Damian only staggered for a couple of steps. “Batman is back!” Now the excitement made more sense. “He put Scarecrow in Arkham! Everybody is talking about it, even robbers and thugs, some are scared because they think he's back from the death, like a zombie or some kind of demon.”

Oh, child, if only you knew. “Good, they deserve to be scared.”

“They deserve worst,” that right there was one the reasons Damian and Colin got along so well in the first place. “But I'm just happy he's finally back, I mean, we were handling it, but there's things only he can do and who knows, maybe next time he needs to be away for a little, he can let us in charge?” He sounded so hopeful that Damian didn't have the heart to tell him that it was very unlikely. “Have you been able to talk to him?”

“Barely, he and Robin are very busy at the moment, I imagine it's going to be like that for a while.”

“Oh,” Colin's disappointment was momentary, because next he seemed as animated as before. “And how's your brother?”

Damian had to stop himself from cringing because ugh... he had done a lot of unwise things and calling Todd “brother” was definitely one of them. But at the moment it seemed like the easiest way to convince Colin to help him, because kidnapping some random guy without any context undeniably sounded like criminal behavior, but saying he was trying to help his brother, who was in a similar situation like Colin had been at the beginning with Bane's Venom, was a much more sensible explanation.

“Alive. Hopefully not psychotic anymore, only time will tell.”

“Oh, alright, hope he gets well soon.”

This was Damian's life now, this kind of absurdity.

“Where are we going?” Colin finally asked the most important question and it only took him a couple of minutes.

“There.” Damian pointed to some spot in front of them.

Colin squinted his eyes, trying to figure out what Damian's was referring to. “Bat Burger?” He asked uncertainty.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To celebrate the possibility that I may be able to keep my spine intact.”

“Okaaay... are we really going there?”

“I'm not being clear?”

“It's not that, it's just... I didn't know, I don't have money with me, sorry.”

“I do, enough to buy anything and everything you want. And I'm not accepting refusals or else I'll remove your permissions to access the Grave.”

When Damian decided to baptize their little hideout with the ominous name of “the Grave”, Colin had alarmingly asked why like any normal person would, to which Damian replied that their activities as vigilantes were an absolute secret and secrets went to the grave. Colin must've thought it sounded “cool”, because he warmed up to the name instantly.

“You can't do that,” and he sounded genuinely offended. “I helped a lot with stuff.”

“We're not a democracy.”

This time when Colin tried to shove him again, Damian dodged it, because he knew it wasn't a playful push what was awaiting him.

Naturally, Damian's will was imposed at the end and although Colin seemed still hesitant while ordering, he didn't have problems to happily start eating once their food was on the table. 

Bat Burger was at this point a relatively small business, with just three restaurants in the city. It opened not long ago to a moderate acceptation, but he knew that in the next few years it was going to grow into a very lucrative chain. Once Colin had commented about wanting to visit it, but Damian, busy with the need of being a warrior and not a kid, never thought that was probably Colin's way of expressing his desire of going there with him.

The best thing about a restaurant with a gimmick such as this, was that Colin and Damian didn't raise brows and could pass as some fools playing superhero dress-up or something; surely they must've a Batman cosplayer at least once a week. So no one questioned Damian's sword - that he put in the seat next to him -, or the fact that he used a batarang to slice a piece of his hamburger. He considered the piece - a perfect quarter of the whole - for a moment, like it was a clue in a crime scene before finally putting it in his mouth; he carefully chewed before finally swallowing with an unconvinced look on his face.

“Would you like the rest of my hamburger?” Damian asked while pointing to his food with a hand gesture more appropriate to reveal culinary wonders.

“Why? You didn't like it?”

“I limit my consumption of meat to what is necessary but I was curious, the advertisement highly exaggerates, this is below average at best.”

“Really?”

“See for yourself.”

With Damian's encouragement, Colin took a good bite of the now infamous hamburger. “It's not bad, I think is tasty.”

“Tt, I'm a snob then.” And he took one of the fries from his order directly to his mouth.

“You're not, you just talk funny.”

“I can hurt you, severely.”

And like every time Damian threatened him, Colin just laughed. “See? You talk funny but you're also funny.”

Damian just sighed, all pretense and theatrics. “I used to be feared.”

Colin giggled because clearly he was having more fun in this place than Damian, so to appease him, he offered him his box of nuggets. “Do you want one?”

“No, thank you.” He answered with a wrinkle of his nose.

Acting like this was an actual problem, Colin looked over the table to the things he ordered, finally stopping in the stickers that came with said order of nuggets. “And a sticker?”

Now that caught Damian's attention. A couple of colorful stickers with the Batman symbol were a far cry from the toys that eventually will come with their meals, but Damian found himself taking the blue one because it made him think of something else.

“They could at least introduce some variety, Batman's not the only one keeping this city standing.”

“Well, we're at Bat Burger.”

“Batman's overrated.”

Damian didn't understood the “gravity” of his words until he heard Colin's gasp of surprise. “That's not true.”

Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the place they were in, but he couldn't help the sudden need of doubling down. “There's dozens of heroes better than him, I can even use them to count instead of sheep.”

“Take that back! Batman is amazing even when he doesn't have powers, because he can always win without them.”

Colin could try to look like he was very offended, but the slightly tremor of his lips gave him away, so Damian put his left elbow over the table so he could rest his head against his hand, smirking. “Nightwing could easily defeat him, if he really wanted to,” and he made a point of taking another fry and biting it with his canines. “Or in terms you will understand better... he'll wipe the floor with Batman any day of the week.”

He caught the ketchup package that Colin threw at him, so Damian did accordingly and threw it back and from there, an array of things flew over the table - but not food, because both of them had respect for it -, so it wasn't surprising that by the time they tried to use the trays too, they were promptly kicked out.

And while sitting on the sidewalk in the cold of the night, finishing their food, they were still laughing.

⪻Chapter 10

Chapter 12⪼

[the-isolated-demon]

The Isolated Demon AU - Chapter 1

It had been years after all the drama of people going missing, the studios suddenly going bankrupt.. It was all a mess. The studios looked to be a wreck to the man walking up towards it, eyes resting upon the old building. It had been years since he'd even set foot inside this place.. especially since he had left.

A tired elongated sigh made its way through parted lips, the man's hair being brushed through by his own hand before he had pushed in through the old door. He was surprised that the damn thing didn't come off it's hinges with how he had to use a bit of force to even open it. Taking another glance at the letter that he had been previously sent, he couldn't help but grimace slightly.. why was Joey wanting him to come here..? Wasn't it enough for him..? Losing everything to time.. wasn't it enough?? 

Stein's gaze narrowed as he scanned the first room he had stepped into. There were obvious warps in the wooden floors due to the ink soaks beneath them.. He could smell some wood rot being mixed with ink fumes as well. That definitely wasn't an appetizing scent. It was unnerving, at that. If anything, the smells just made him want to leave. Though, a small thought came to mind. Technically he *could* leave, the second he finds whatever it is his old friend wanted him to go looking for. Man, he would've appreciated if Joey left a hint for what he was looking for, too.. "Alright, Joey.. let's see what you want me to find.."

Wandering through the building, his eyes slowly scanned around the walls. As he continued to glance around, he was making his way down a hall.. ah.. his old desk. There were still papers scattered everywhere, stuck to the walls by pins and nails, some piling onto the floor with that old bendy drawing just settled right on top of the desks surface. It'd been several years since he'd seen those old cartoon sketches. Shaking his head and making sure the thought left his mind, he just continued on in another direction. He couldn't get distracted right this second. He still needed to find whatever the hell it was..

As Henry kept on walking through these old wooden halls, he grew slightly paranoid. Turning down another as he soon had found.. the display of a toon Boris. Chest ripped open as if it were dissected, many guts having the appearance of falling to the sides as some of those inky organs had been missing as well.. a large wrench being lodged into the opened ribs as well. The sight just churned the man's stomach. This was speechless overall, his heart in his throat as he was just so.. caught off guard by this. What didn't help was the fact that it looked like the damn thing's chest was still moving. "..Joey... what the hell were you even doing.." He murmured under his breath, visibly paling by the second as he continued to stare.

Slowly blinking, trying to push away the vivid imagery of that gored and torn apart Boris, he just sucked in a small breath, walking away from the sight and into another room.. a few times, he would pause in a room thanks to finding an audio recording. As well as a few notes. Such as in the art department.

One of the notes he had found was labeled.. it was on someone else's desk, one that wasn't his. It was closer to a corner, too. He had noticed how the animation area had been obviously made bigger, too. Most likely to hire more artists. He decided to look over one.

"Theo, don't forget to take a break and get something to eat, pal. -Tim" Now, reading over this, Henry rose an eyebrow. These were names of people he hadn't known.. ah well. It probably didn't matter too much, anyways.. Leaving the department through the small step up and through the doorway, he started to look around again. Of course.. this time, he was lead to the room.

Staring at the chains that were linked to something hidden below in a large abyss in the flooring. Standing on the ledge that hung over, he could've guessed that whatever his old 'pal' wanted him to see had to be at the end of these chains. Looking over at the large lever, he looked at a cord that was trailing to it.. of course, there were power units missing from the object.. Quickly glancing to the side, he did see a small tape recorder and chose to play it as he worked. Tapping the play button, he then opened a bin he saw, finding one cell.. of course, quickly discovering the other one sitting upon the shelf. Listening to the tape, he was humming, placing the batteries into the empty slots. Once that was taken care of, he took a deep breath. Time to pull the lever. As he hesitantly hovered his hand over the object, he soon bring it down, the large metal chains starting to ravel and creak. As those metal limbs turned, it brought up the machine. Ink seemed to coat it, and Henry's brow furrowed at the sight. 'What the hell..? What even was this...' His mind was drawing a blank at his own silent questions as the tape he was listening to in the background had just then stopped.

Henry just lifted his hand, dragging it down his face with a soft groan of annoyance. "God daaaaamn it, Joey.... I shouldn't have come back here.. I shouldn't have listened to your stupid letter.." He had huffed softly, blinking slowly as he stared. Though, he was growing a small curiosity.. especially on what this large device was for. Hell, he did previously hear that one recording, mentioning the pedestals in the breakroom and the items that were put on display. He then started to march on, in search of the items for the apparent pedestals. He was starting into a small jog since he was focused on collecting the items. It was taking long to just walk, anyways.. he was just carrying things, going back and forth from one room to the main hall with the large ink lever in the wall and the 6 pedestals.

Once all that was taken care of.. of course, he had to jog back over to another room. If anything, Henry was growing annoyed by the constant back and forth motions he had to go through for this. Most of his questions were topped with 'Joey, why?' Though, there was plenty of doubt bubbling within him that he would get answers to that of all things.

Once the ink was now officially flowing, he had finally pulled the lever, turning the device on. Though, what caught him off guard was the sudden darkening of lights.. the sudden existential dread that was sinking into him. He was feeling mild regret, but.. it was too late to go back now. Returning to the large machine, he had noticed how the hall leading to it was suddenly fillednwith wooden boards. It had appeared to be darker as fresh coats of ink were coating the wooden flooring. A stern, mildly concerned expression painting along his eyes and lips. This sudden change to the old studio hall was the start of his suspicions.. the start of what made him regret even daring to come back to this building in the first place.

As he slowly trekked closer, attempting to gaze upon the machine that was supposed to be at work, a low gurgling growl had echoed from the boarded up exit. The closer the man got, the louder the noises grew. That was til a large beast had jumped out towards the man, snarls echoing from it's clenched teeth. Swiftly, the beast was breaking the wooden slabs to the ink machine, Henry had fallen back into the inky abyss coating the floor when it lunged towards him.. his mind was screaming to run. He had to get out. He knew he was growing paranoid.. He was in the clearest amount of danger as well. He had to leave before something worse coats this situation.

There was more snapping and splintering of what was most likely the planks settled behind Henry as he scrambled to his feet to run. There was squishing, sloshing underneath him as he started to bolt out and into the hallway. As a result of his own dismay, the damned thing he saw was now chasing tail. It wasn't even lagging behind.. it was going right after him entirely. It was nearly on top of him. As adrenaline had pumped, the man just darted, his breaths becoming heavy and labored as he was growing closer and closer to the exit.

As he ran for the door, his arm subconsciously extended in a minor attempt to reach the doorknob, but.. this attempt happened to be completely futile. The second he had even stepped onto the exiting hallway's floorboards, a loud shriek had erupted from the creature on his tail..

The demon had stopped, stamped it's hand roughly into the floor beneath itself with a loud, booming roar.. this happened to have enough force to cause rumbles and echoes through out the current level of the building, and with the ink soaked wood that the man had stepped onto... He was falling down an entire building story at a rapid speed, a scream leaving his lungs as he had fallen with such a small attempt.. there was then a loud thud..

The demon started to circle the hole that it had made to cause the man to fall. Soft growls and clicking being made as its second pair of horns had twitched slightly at the sound of the soft, flesh body hitting the pooling ink. Soon, it had chosen to leave, it's lengthy tail flashing over the hole as the darkened aura left the area, mounds of ink following after..

A while after the dripping creature left, Henry was left, pained and on the ground in a puddle and mess of splintered wood and ink. He was staring up towards where he came, still breathing hard as he slowly sat up. Where was he now??.. A heavy sigh came from him as he grunted in his movements to lift himself up off the floor. Being an artist, he still had those issues with his back.. just like every artist, funny enough. The man then started to slowly walk, seeing flooded parts of floor and halls within this staircase.. as well as pipes with valves. Guess he'd might as well see what those would do. A tired sigh escaped Mr. Stein as he was now suddenly hip deep in a large swamp of ink, making his way over to the valves and turning them. He was glad that the turn wheels helped to drain the flooded ink.

Once all the areas had been drained of ink, he found the next door. He wasn't looking forward to opening it, but, he did anyways. He needed to do so.. As he stepped through the doorway, he turned to his left. Ah.. wonderful.. another creepy message written on the wall. 'THE CREATOR LIED TO US.' That is a wonderful thing to see out of nowhere.. that's for sure. He just turned to the table right next to him, seeing the axe.. he then picked it up, swinging it a bit with a small smile. "Ah.. this'll do wonderful.. this'll be helpful.." He hummed, falling back to a more serious look. "Alright.. let's try and get out of here, now.." He huffed, walking towards the extremely boarded up doorway that lead into a long, turning, plank covered wall.

As he swiftly paced down the hall, destroying. As many of the wooden planks, splintering them with the axe in his hands, he just made it to the door.. breaking off more planks, he kicked open the door to see a pentagram with what seemed to be coffins in the surrounding area as well. Lovely.. another extremely unsettling sight. Definitely what he wanted to see. As he stepped around it, making an attempt to be careful of the entire thing, he couldn't help but feel dizzy.. dazed. Could it have been the fact that he had fallen and the adrenaline from being previously chased had been starting to run thin? Maybe. Could it have been something else? Possibly.. it didn't take long for the man to grow weary and more light headed. Soon enough, the last thing he saw was the wall as he had slumped to the floor and into the giant ritual circle surrounded by candles, his vision fading to black entirely.

[puredramione]

My 2020 Reading List - Dramione

This year, I’ve read way more dramione than I’ve ever read, and I’ve been reading it for 7 years now. I even read things, tropes, I had never bothered with before. 2020 may not have been a kind year, but in the dramione community it has been a wonderful year of reading for me. Please be aware I may spoil some plot lines to dramione fanfictions you haven’t read yet. I have tried not to as best as I can. But anyway below is 20 fics I’ve read this year that have been there for me when I needed them. No particular order. Just a lot of love for these fics.

Wait and Hope - by @mightbewriting - memory loss is one of my favourite tropes but this story. I have never cried over a couch before. But this story. From the moment she first awakes in St Mungo’s to that beautiful ending, I was hooked. I loved how the story left me with not really a care about whether or not Hermione got her memories back. Those bloody text messages 💔 a journey I’ll never forget.

The Unofficial Diary of an Omega - MrsRen - my first time reading anything omegaverse. It still isn’t my favourite trope. I much prefer Veela for some reason 🤷🏻‍♀️ but overall it was a good story, just not my thing.

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach - I actually gave up on this story the first time I read it. Unsure as to why because the story as a whole is just amazing. Baking and dramione? Yes please! Also dealing with their psychological trauma after the war? Heck yes! The relationship in this story develops at a lovely pace. There were moments I was on edge, others I was smiling ear to ear whilst reading this. Definitely one of my favourites now.

In Search Of Sunrise - @indreamsink - actually just reread this and I still get that warm feeling in my chest. So turns out my break up hasn’t made me lose the ability to enjoy dramione falling for each other. Anyway, the story was so heartwarming, like if I were to describe it as anything I would describe it as a hug. The best non-date fic there is.

Sex and Occlumency - Graendoll - this was the start of my slippery slope into reading smut stories. Like I had read smut before, obviously but I didn’t pay it much attention, normally just swiped past 😂 but this one was a completely different story.

Manacled - @senlinyu - this is truly the most beautifully haunting story I’ve ever read. I remember when I first started reading it, I thought to myself, how the hell could I ever ship dramione in this world? Then those flashbacks. Fuck those flashback chapters were a punch in the gut. The way everything links and connects. I love it’s realistic ending. I often think of this story in the shower cause I had to force myself to go shower whilst I read this cause I honestly couldn’t put it down. And SPOILER, but I laughed so hard at a certain characters death even though I probably shouldn’t have but she was such a bitch. I get flashbacks myself of this story. I’ll be in the shower and I’ll remember a certain sentence, a certain scene in my head as if I truly walked with Hermione on this heart wrenching journey. But fuck manacled Harry, I hate that boy.

He Becomes by @abromaposts - I needed this story. This was the first thing I read after Manacled. Draco Malfoy looking after rabbits with the sole reason being to get close to Hermione, yes please. Rabbits are my favourite animals. It’s just so much fluff. And after Manacled I was grateful.

The Right Thing To Do - @lovesbitca8 - this was the bookshop, slow burn, fluffiness I needed in the summer. The start of a truly wonderful universe. Idiots in love, I’ve never went through so much second hand embarrassment. Every interaction between Hermione and Lucius was fantastic. Especially the final one! Every character was written to a way that I loved them so much. Plus this story makes you think (like the rest of the series) it doesn’t spoon fed you information.

All The Wrong Things - @lovesbitca8 - I never thought I’d be into first person POV. The last thing I read like that was The Hunger Games back in school, many years ago. But I truly felt as if Draco were telling me the story. I love how it filled in things we never seen in the first story. I love Draco’s characterisation. Unlike TRTTD, this feels more lighthearted. Could just be the horny Draco though and his dramatics?

The Auction - @lovesbitca8 - this story. where do I start? When I started reading this story I was in a completely different life. This story has seen me through a terrible time in my life. Honestly the last few chapters before the final chapter were a blur and I had to go and reread them cause my head was all over the place but the story. This story, on it’s own, I would say is better than any fiction I’ve ever read 🤷🏻‍♀️ it grips you, pulls you in. Every question you ask, you get answered with a ribbon and bow. I cannot express my love, for this story and for the hard work that has went into it. The characters in this world so vastly different yet similar to the ones we already learned to love. I could write a love letter to this story.

Hindsight by @floorcoaster - if you haven’t been following this year long, monthly updated story, then you’ve really missed out. Each chapter is a month of the year. The story starts with Hermione planning to trim down her calendar for the year ahead. Although it’s fiction it gave me a sense of hope for my future. I had started this year on a different note than Hermione, and I’m now ending it on a different note as well. I think this story does a good job of capturing the passage of time and just how quickly things can change. I also really love these adorable idiots in this story.

Bring Him To His Knees by @willhavetheirtrinkets (WIP) - the best co-worker, friends to lovers, fake relationship story I’ve read. No question. I sent @magicaltraveler3 a tearful voice memo after that last chapter that was posted (chapter 20). It isn’t the first time I’ve cried at a fanfic, but it is the first time that I predicted something bad would happen, but I didn’t expect the bad thing to be what it was. I can’t wait to see where this story goes. At this point I have completely forgot about the murder plot. I know it exists, and we’ll get back to the murder but I’d honestly read the characters in this story eating breakfast.

The Flat In Bath by @adaprix (WIP) - this was the first story I got into that ada has wrote. Instantly I was fascinated with the use of “flat” over “apartment”. Being Scottish I knew this was someone British. Anyway, a very interesting story and I can’t wait to see how the rest of it plays out.

Good by @lovesbitca8 - I am dying for the update of this story. As so many are, it is 🔥🔥🔥 all I can say. I can’t wait for the update!

The Erised Effect by @adaprix - When ada first told me she was thinking about writing a story about Pansy and Hermione working in a sex shop together. Telling me about having the idea of them meeting in the pub and how she “needed to get some filthy smut out of your system”. I didn’t think it would be my thing. Boy, did she prove me wrong!

The Cell by WrathOfMacy - I don’t know how I came to read this one. But damn, this was a good one (who am I kidding they’re all good ones). I’m still reading through it though. It’s a warfic in which Dramione end up locked in a cell together. The relationship builds nicely. I cannot wait to read more of it.

The Melody Of Touch by @magicaltraveler3 - I never knew I needed a dramione story like this story. I love that there is so much musical imagery incorporated into it. I haven’t read anything like it before. The story, the smut, the taxi and the freaking art work. It is everything!

Every Day, a Little Death by @lovesbitca8 - I’ll be honest with this one. I read the first chapter and the last chapter 🙈 BUT only cause everyone scared me so much. I plan to revisit. SPOILER. I may not care too much that Hermione cheated. Just me? Like yeah I hate cheating and she shouldn’t have done it, but like she admitted to it, and was very regretful for it. Anyway, the chapters I read were very interesting I look forward to revisiting it sometime.

Away by @indreamsink - written for the romcom fest and I got to say I think this one may be my favourite from the fest. Not only do you get dramione but you get the amazing side pairing of Harry/Pansy, which this year has really became my favourite side pairing. It’s like reading two love stories at once, I was interested in the dramione plot line obviously, but I was equally interested in the hansy/potts&pans plot line.

The Path Unexpected by @magicaltraveler3 - this story is a cute little domestic dramione fanfic. And I lived for it. It shows dramione going through the process of having a child and honestly, they’re so damn cute in this fic. The fanart is next level also!

[ariiikat]

Stranger Things Season 4 Review and Opinions

After sitting on Stranger Things Season 4, I have a LOT of things to say. Both good things and critiques on other aspects.

I will begin by saying that I’ll be trying to give an honest and objective review of the show, cause even if I’m an avid shipper for certain couples, I’m still an animation and film student at heart, and will be focusing on those aspects too. BUT, I also will offer the perspective of an queer person watching the show, and being exposed to the WHOLE fandom and their reactions, as honestly, with all the discourse that is happening, both the LGBTQ+ side and the rest of the fandom are both right and wrong in certain aspects.

Anyways, with that bloody long disclaimer out of the way, here is my long ass review:

Firstly, this is still a GOOD show. Despite how this season made me and other people feel, I would still recommend this show regardless! It still scales way higher than other shows currently airing on Netflix right now, but while it is a fun ride to embark on important to know that it is definitely imperfect. But like I said, despite my criticisms, it is still a good show.

Moving on, there were good and eh things that occurred in the show, but why don’t we focus on the positives firstly:

Positives:

The CGI

The CGI was amazing this season! You can definitely tell where Netflix saved all their budget for (which honestly missed some great shows because of it). For a TV show, it’s so great for it to be treated as if it were a big movie. The world of the Upside Down was filled with such hauntingly empty imagery, it’s the most we’ve seen of the ENTIRE town and it suits it. I also wanted to give spot light to the Jamie Campbell Bower, as contrary to popular belief, Vecna’s costume is not CGI (except for the moving parts) but was a whole damn project by the makeup artists! Kudos to them for instead of relying on visual effects, they went the route to giving Vecna an actual costume or what some may call ‘practical effect’s. This actually made Vecna feel alive and not computer generated in comparison to the world.

The cinematography

This also connects to CGI, because both the CGI and cinematography worked so well together! I noticed there was a lot of continuous shots, that just made watching scenes so much more interesting! First ones that come to mind is when Robin is complaining about their love lives to Steve in the video store, and the camera just continuously moves with them to ensure it ends of a perfect shot! Or when Dustin jumped over the counter at Family Video and instead of cutting, the camera pans with Dustin. And I even haven’t mentioned the parallels! One iconic one was when both of the Hawkin’s groups were biking in both the real Hawkins and the Upside Down. I had absolute chills! Also when El was prepping to go under water again, it mimicked the scene of her taking her socks off in the first season… and also Eleven using that Coke bottle in attempts to connect to Max… Heartbreaking but such a good parallel to the last time she was in that room 🥺

Beginning half of Max’s arc/chapter 4

Oh my, how they tackled Max’s arc in the beginning was great! Because it tied so well with the villain’s tactic to kill others in this season. This is why episode 4 was absolutely amazing! Because it was a culmination of Chekhov’s gun from the beginning of the season, and it further progressed her character arc and the plot of the actual story. This is obviously the episode that wowed everyone because it was almost a perfect episode! However… how they handle the rest of her arc… that is to be said later.

The monster

Contrary to what other people have been discussing online, I actually like the idea they brought for El realising that Brenner is the ‘monster’. Some people didn’t like how it kinda ended up being ‘papa issues’ with both Eleven and One, however I think this is a good example of how some big catastrophic events begin and are catalysed from small and almost insignificant things when you look at the big picture (not saying that Brenner’s treatment of the kids is insignificant, but it sometimes feels that way when you have been watching every side and seeing the bigger picture). Because when it really goes down to it, if Brenner didn’t treat One like a lab rat, this would’ve been a totally different outcome. So yes, I believe that El saying Brenner is the monster is absolutely true! Because they were just kids when Brenner intervened locked them away.

HOWEVER, I loved the turn when One mentions that even if they were abused by Brenner, that in the end, El has to understand that she was essentially the person who did transform him into this Vecna thing. And then I think it comes to the point where hopefully season 5 takes it the route where El realises that focusing on ‘who to blame’ or ‘who is the monster’ wouldn’t solve her problems, but it’s what she decides to do about it…

Vecna’s character

Honestly great villain for this season! Most of the villains were either the Russians, the lab people and the monsters. However Vecna definitely feels like the big villain we’ve been waiting for. Idea wise, killing people through their worst fears is one of the most chilling things to think about. Because when I imagine it happen to me, there is no way I will survive cause I have a HUGE chip on my shoulder. Also, Vecna’s backstory I think works well, with how it lead up to episode 7 and that reveal with Nancy, especially since she was the one who so trying to crack the case so it actually makes sense she’s the one that went into Vecna’s trance.

OKAY!! With all my positive out of the way! Here are all the critiques you’ve been waiting for :3

For this section, I am actually going to tackle it a bit more differently than the positives. Even if I still had a blast watching the show, something felt wrong or off. And not in terms of the horror aspect, but just how things are shifting in terms of the story of the show. Therefore, I am going to tackle the story into 4 different parts:

Locations - Themes - Characters - Relationships

Story - Locations

I’ll be frank here, there were just TOO many locations this season. The reason why season 1 is always highly regarded is because it generally stayed in Hawkins, creating a world for the show. And yes, it IS possible for multiple locations to be focused on, however all of that at the same time? Having 3 main ones (almost 4 as the Lieutenant was a side plot as well and he went literally everywhere) made it quite confusing and almost exhausting. Like I said, it IS possible, but the way this season handled it’s themes is why the locations don’t ‘flow’ together well…

Story - Themes

So in every movie or show or story that has ever existed, there are always themes that would run throughout. In Stranger Things Season 4, there was a emphasis on:

Mental health (Max’s Storyline)

El’s identity

Perseverance (?)

A good show would be able to easily intertwine these themes with the storyline, and a good example was the first half of Max’s storyline as I mentioned earlier. However, most of these themes either were paired to a ‘meh’ storyline or didn’t get fulfilled in the end properly.

Max’s storyline was all related to mental health, especially PTSD as it is implied she is experiencing it due to having Billy killed in front of her very eyes, and also depression from her change of behaviour from last season. And the show paired it perfectly to the storyline as Vecna got his victims through trauma. Episode 4 was especially good because it showed that despite it all, she was able to keep a hold on what was ‘here’ with her and pushed away from Vecna’s hold, or bring able to process and handle her trauma. I am no expert in the mental health field, but I know a lot of people related to her struggles because that is what they are going through in their lives, sans the Vecna holding death above their heads… which sometimes another unfortunate thing that does to them in reality… ANYWAYS, this hopeful process she was going through got absolutely gutted in the end where she instead ends up braindead. And while yes this is absolutely a gripping cliffhanger to end story wise, theme wise it is unfortunate that people who saw themselves in Max became faced with someone whom they relate to, not being able to survive. This theme was executed poorly, as in this day and age any creator should be aware of the impacts that any mental health implications within stories, and how this is portrayed to the audience.

Again contrary to popular belief, I think it was important that El faced her trauma in the show. It felt like a natural progression as it ended up with El thinking she was a monster due to her own powers and memories of the past. I do also think it was important that she had to be separated from the group because this was something she needed to do on her own terms. And I think it was going well, up until that Mileven moment. Like okay, I have nothing against the ship, ship what you want, but I feel like her final push to face Vecna being from Mike saying “I love you” didn’t tie up the loose thread of Eleven’s identity crisis. The whole theme with this storyline was of El’s issues of fitting in. She felt she was a weirdo and monster because of how different she is from how she was raised and her abilities. What she should have learnt at the end of her arc this season was that she is not a monster because she is different, but instead of trying to blame herself or others, it’s what you do about yourself which is important. I felt like that would have been MUCH stronger if she realised that instead of Mike calling out to her. ALSO absolutely MISSED opportunity but this could have been a total bonding moment between El and Will because they both thought they were a monster, mistake, and didn’t fit in their school. I honestly wanted more sibling moments since if you think about it, El’s never had actual sibling relationships that weren’t toxic or held in a lab. I feel like those family bonds should’ve been more focused on than relationships…

Lastly perseverance. This is all related to Hopper and Joyce and how they both did not give up or lose hope. And honestly it was done well, just the storyline was kinda meh. And the reason I think that is because it was so far removed from the main story in Hawkins, it didn’t really feel part of the whole season. Even that last effort to connect to defeating Vecna didn’t feel it worked because the adults had literally NO communication with the kids, it felt a little too unreal. It was because of this whole storyline in Russia, I felt myself just waiting for the Hawkins crew to return to the screen.

Story - Characters

I’ll be short and sweet since I already did get into depth with quite a few characters, but I think there is TOO MANY CHARACTERS.

This season, a lot of characters (especially in the California group) felt unused or unnecessary.

The only reason it worked in season 3 was because they were generally in the same area, or were able to regroup back to Hawkins area for the big fight. Here they were all SO apart that any other character interactions between the other groups were down right impossible. It is possible to handle multiple characters, however with all the different locations and the unfortunate storylines that followed other characters made it hard to handle each character perfectly. I think the best group was obviously the Hawkins team, as they were people who have never interacted much until this season or had a shift in dynamics! Such as Nancy and Robin, Steve and Robin (but no romantic undertones this time), Lucas and Erica (they had more heartwarming moments this season), Max without the buffer of El this time. For the other groups, either they were relying more on the storyline (Russia group) or any relationship dynamics that entered/tackled the group (California group).

Also… Eddie 🥺 Personally his arc should’ve been handled more well, because it kinda went from 50 to 100 real fast. They were just missing a few more moments that would’ve adequately built up to the moment of his sacrifice. Also his friendship with Dustin was SO wholesome, but I do feel like it should’ve had more growth since there weren’t many scenes where they vibe or play like they did before the battle. I will say, it sucks that Eddie, who is CODED TO BE GAY (please if you know anything about the hanky code and connotations of freak back then, not to mention Eddie’s lines in the shows), dies at the end. As much as I hate the bury your gays trope, I felt like this was meant to be written as a tragedy. Like I hate how he’s dead but oddly enough, as a queer woman I’m not too fussed about it because his whole story wasn’t about how gay he was, but to no longer run away. But still the Duffers better be careful cause a lot of people in this community have already seen so much death of queer characters in shows full of heteronomativity, and they are brushing the line with how he was coded gay and not really confirmed.

Story - Relationships

Ohohohoho well this is a whammy. I love romance a lot but yikes, there is a REASON why people suddenly started shipping gay ships.

Firstly, lets get out of the way our unproblematic Jopper and Lumax. They both were absolutely adorable, cute, wholesome and valid. Especially Lucas and Max because them mending their broken relationship literally stole my heart, and then smashed it at the end of the season.

But oh god the whole STANCY, JANCY discourse and love triangle… I am literally getting SO tired of it at this point. I would have been fine if Nancy just stayed with Johnathan and somehow made it work, but them having this whole ‘will they, won’t they’ thing with Steve WHILE she is still in a relationship didn’t sit right with me. Ever since season 1 Nancy has been tied to a relationship, and honestly I’d just rather have her single at this point. She has shown again and again that she is strong and independent, however the Duffers keep falling back to her having relationship troubles once again. Hell it’s the whole reason I became an avid Ronance shipper because I was getting exhausted by this love triangle (also why a lot of the queer community fell back into shipping gay ships while watching this show because we were all TIRED). And yes, I totally see why people ship Stancy, but I felt like it literally came out of no where and I feel like it will always have that underlying tone related to Barb’s death, regardless of how much they’ve grown. They work so well together, that I’d rather Steve become best friends with Nancy instead, then honestly I feel like that would show a whole lot more growth than what they did this season. And if this friendship even became romantic, then I literally would have no problem cause it would’ve have made sense at that point.

Oh speaking of relationships, the whole Mike, El and Will situation. I felt like El was being a bit TOO reliant on Mike this season, and honestly that might be a product of El losing Hopper so she stuck to the next closest person she had. And Mike felt more toxic/asshole this season? I kept getting those vibes so not sure if that’s a good thing… But god, that whole Will scene! I damn related so much! And personally, I think in the context of the 80s (and I know a lot of my queer mutuals might disagree) it makes sense why Will wouldn’t come out to Mike, or explicitly say it to Johnathan. It’s scary times, and you kinda would only get it if you were queer in an unsafe place (which I am too familiar with). Many people wanted to him to say the word ‘gay’ but I actually think if he ever would say it, Will would tell his brother, not Mike.

BUT I totally get the issue that was literally only Will’s purpose in this season! To push Mike and El back together! It is super frustrating that he just got tied down to that role, I’d wish more of his own arc was connected to feeling out of place in conversations, hearing people shout slurs in passing, hell even newspaper articles! The fact that’s all he really did this season made me disappointed, because Will is more than a ‘cheerleader’ for Mileven, I just wished he was given more time to actually reflect and realise.

And okay, YES, to address the elephant, I do ship Ronance and Steddie, but I was absolutely aware it was never going to happen. But I will mention that Vicky moment in the end… didn’t really feel great. Because she was a literal mirror of Robin. I feel like they should have either written Vicky to be more distinct and different from Robin (like literally their cadence was so similar) or Robin should’ve met another woman that was one of the helpers at the shelter. That way it’s a little of an upside from the revelation of Vicky’s boyfriend in the weapons shop. ALSO, if they did want to sell me on the whole Vicky thing, she should’ve have popped up in more places, such as the Library, or in Family Video. Because it feels like a last minute shove in for Robin’s love life.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Definitely not perfect, but it’s still a great show to watch regardless. While I still got annoyed by the criticisms above, I got invested despite that because they are trying to tell a horror story filled with characters I love anyways. And while it’s great to talk about what you like or didn’t like about a show, it is necessary to understand that having a good time is what’s important too! This show is meant to entertain, and I think it delivered in that front! PSA for everyone though, if someone enjoyed the show, don’t harass or attack them for not hating it like you do. As far as I know, this show hasn’t hit any controversial topics to the point of concern, so please don’t use your opinions as a way to attack others.

So hope you all will be waiting with me (anxiously or excitedly) for the final season whenever that comes out.

[halt-kun]

Hunter x Hunter Chapter 84 - September 2nd (6)

So last chapter for today ! NEW VOLUME

I just think Chrollo looks an awful lot like Genthru with all the flames

I love this chain despite its simplicity

Just the sheer speed of recovery is impressive

Just so pretty too

I forgot Kurapika uses the term “victim” he is really considering himself to be an assassin there. His goal was to kill so Uvo isn’t an opponent.

Uvo is so sturdy even in Zetsu it’s terrifying

I just find Kurapika very pretty in most of those panels, I don’t know why but more than usual

This is probably the saddest part of it all.

If there is truly a part of hunter x hunter where they show how disgusting ending a life is, it’s this one. There is no joy in Kurapika due to Uvo’s demise. He’s doing what he believes to be right, in order to stop them but it brings him no happiness.

Favorite Chain gooooooo

I love it so much, just the imagery and the meaning of it too.

Chaining your and your opponent’s heart to the death.

It shows conviction and recklessness too and how there is no turning back

but also how Kurapika is restraining himself too not only his opponent

The death of a giant

Yep you crazy kid, you should be a bit careful about the TIME you spend in that state

anxiety inducing ability

F Uvogin, hope you can rest in peace

I don’t remember this part in the anime, I like details on how to get good intels so I like to see this

TORTURE

GON

NOW YOU’RE READY FOR TORTURE

Okay nooo, it’s money, doubt that it’d work with the troupe.

AND IS THIS THE REASON YOU PAWN IT OFF IN THE MANGA

Poor Shalnark, he is clearly worried. 

You’re wrong Feitan and I don’t know who Trevor Brown is but you seem to like reading this.

This is so funny because I’m sure Chrollo teaches them nothing and it’s just exposition for the reader but it’s funny to think troupe members wouldn’t know manipulators and conjurer are dangerous for simple enhancers type like Uvo.

Especially Shalnark with his black voice just now learning you can manipulate Uvo.

In french Gon also mentions interest rate and how banks would have higher ones so it’s fine.

Clearly he thought about it and he’s still reckless as always

I always forget Hisoka is physically stronger than Franklin, the Feitan ? Bullshit, I bet Machi would beat Feitan 

Chrollo is not bad for a specialist, all enhancers except Nobu are at the top, then it’s emitters and transmuters and then Chrollo, one specialist.

Bonolenov is better than Nobu as a conjurer 

What Shalnark above Paku ????

well Pakunoda is strong for a specialist too, above two puny conjurers.

The END, and also for today, I’m glad we began a new volume too

[leadersguilt]

genuinely don’t think i’ll ever be over the fact mappa really emphasised how much jean has always had one foot held back when it comes to being a member of the survey corps, no matter how far he’s come along with the scouting legion. 

jean spends a good chunk of canon attempting to play the backburner / an unimportant role in the fights he has a part in, some the best examples being within his cadet years / the battle of trost where he chooses to place marco over himself, only to have this turn of events repeat itself throughout the cot arc where he demands it’s not him but armin who is far more suited to coming up with a plan to save the day. even when he did have the role of guiding his own team, it’s clear jean valued levi’s word over his own, even in the middle of guiding them round at least. the only moment we see jean actually take on the leadership role without question or doubt prior to chapter 127 is simple: the female titan arc where he, before reiner and armin, came up a plan in order to defeat annie and subsequently buy eren and the others some time.

so what’s changed? what’s different: it’s a question either reiner goes to say the jean he knew would never have managed this. and well, jean answers with one specific answer: 

the loss of marco and his subsequent burial is surprisingly not a topic that gets brought up much in jeans narrative. however, it’s more than hinted that it’s frequently still there. from his references to marlowe and his words to eren, reiner and armin. it’s a constant thought that plagues the back of his mind. being one of the main things to push him through until, well, sasha’s death and the subsequent fights that follow.

fights that make him suffer so bad, to the point he goes back. takes the route out he’s certain will be his final stop.

the rest of the events is explained clearly in the eps / chapters, but the imagery the anime uses in both really stands out to the point. the trauma jean has gone through, the reason he continues fighting on in the first place, is so full of his last promise to marco that it’s haunted him for 7 years after the latters death. the most clear points being ..

a.) 

and b.)

the only different between these two scenes is how jean actually looks, older and way more tired from everything he’s been through. ( though i admit even marco looks all mellowed out too--- ) the one thing that has kept jean going, no matter how human his choices he may be, is this one scenario, reminder of the promise he made in that one night. 

jean has never, ever remembered marco solely for the state he found him in the streets of trost, he’s remembered marco for the pillar he has been for his entire life. marco was practically his first, and closest, friend and the first person to tell jean just how much he truly is worth. while he may have experienced so much without him and with so many different people, a large part of jeans choice will always come down to what he knows is right. a way he’d only been able to see as himself is through marco’s speech, that fateful day all those summers ago. 

[botwstoriesandsuch]

I recently read Shades of blue after you rwcommended it and Oh My God was it worth it. That was beautiful and amazing and do you have any other recommendations?

✨MISSIONS ACCOMPLISHED✨

AAAAAA I’m so glad you read it!!! Honestly I’ve been waiting for someone to ask me for recs for awhile because I have.........a few...

Miscellaneous ships here, not just Revalink but the first lot are

- Pinesong by @a-perplexing-puzzle D-Do I even need to explain myself more??? I talk about this fic every other day of the week..... it’s just great vibes....soft and fluffy and angsty just *chef’s kiss* two gay boys searching through their old memories to remember how gay they are 

- Shades of Blue by @unapologetically-asexual OK I know original anon just said they read this but for you idiots that haven’t read it yet....uhhhh get on that. Nothing I could say would really advertise this fic better than this post

- somebody’s always looking (nothing’s quite as sweet) by @kouzaires One of my FAV Coffee shop AU’s for botw....so sof......so tender...........so warrmmmmm.............they characters are written so well.....just love it...a lot

- Broken Spirits by @legendoftoad It’s just AAAAAAAAAA??!!? My boys are hurting and the malice for half of it is frickin doing things to my boy and then of course you got your PTSD themes meddled in there and hnnnnnnnnnnhhhhhghgh my hurt/comfort itch is sufficiently scratched go read

- Linger On by ICanFlyHigher [idk if they have a tumblr] Ok I actually haven’t finished this fic yet but it’s been recommended time and time again so I’ve been reading this in my spare time I’m on like Chapter 12 or 13 I think but I can say with CERTAINTY that the writing is fantastic and tender moments are off the charts and my boys are so precious and also the Yiga are actually cool in this so that’s nice

- Learning Flight by homewardbound This is just *chefs kiss* *standing ovation* *throws confetti in the air* quality quality Revalink. Just a delicious chocolate cake of botw and Revalink. You got your mysterious Revali waking up 105 years later batter, and your angsty PTSD gay boys duo chocolate chips, and then you can chuck in some engaging sideplot elements as a few tall tiers, and then the cake is all whipped up with the wooden spoon of subtextual writing just mmmm delicious. and ALSO I betaed a thing that is gonna happen and let me tell you shit is gonna happen like VERY IMPORTANT SUPER COOL plot twists be happening so you better read it 

- Conversations After The End Of The World by @bismuthllie Ok this one’s a oneshot but I always go back and read it because...idk it just strums my heart strings a lot...I’ve said Pinesong was my first big Revalink fic I’ce read, but this was like...my first, first piece of Revalink content I read ever so...yeah <3 ....and also the art for this comic is fantastic too even thought it gives me the emotions......hahaha ok Revali it’s time to stop being dead

- I See You Swimming In The Sky by @unavoidablekoishi OK OK I know my logic isn’t the best considering it’s the only Revali/Mipha fic I’ve read, but god dammit it’s the best Revpha fic I’ve ever read I still need to catch up cause I’m like 3 chapters behind but this fic CONVERTED me ok, miphvali went from a “huh yeah the art is nice I can kinda see it” to “THAT FISH IS SIMPING FOR THE BIRD 24/7 AND THEY DESERVE EACH OTHER″ This is some *claps* GOOD. SHIT. Ok? *slaps roof of fic* This bad boy can fit so much charming characterization and interaction (and also has made me scream both happily and not happily on several occasions)

- Guardian of The Wilds by @no-themes-just-memes in which I constantly miscall it “Guardian of the Wild” because I’m stupid This isn’t so much a ship fic but it’s so cool Link is a spirit, Urbosa and Zelda’s mom are a thing, Zelda is HERE and she is AMAZING like no spoilers but holy shit Zelda is here and slaying in more ways than one and riding Satori and hhnnnnhhhhhhhh it’s all about those ~plot twists~ and tone changes ya know? very very very nice...

- Firebird by @paellaplease Oh no, it’s Kip’s obligatory Firebird gush whoopsie poopsie who would have guessed surely not me. This is just my standard for Oc ship content now it’s so good I am gay for one fire girl Maiya is my spirit animal and I just wanna cup her in my hands softly even though I know she would probably burn me for it but it would totally be worth it. The writing is just superb and I am also gay for great imagery and action which this is chalk full of so go read it 

Ok it’s actually 2am right now and I still need to finish a bunch of AP work so I’m just gonna speed run the rest of these recs

@echogekkos writes such cute and soft Miphlink fics that are on my top tier list like this one and oh crap this post made me realize Healing Touch updated crap there are so many things I need to read and catch up on anyways want more miphlink angst? BOOM read the inspiration for eternity by Merakkli and oh what’s that? You want deep lore that was custom made with lots of hot ocs in a fic that spans way beyond BOTW welp here’s Hyrule Bound a universe entirely created by @themisadventurescrew which is yet another fic series that I am behind on crap but oh shit @kittmoon has started a chapter fic called Jaded Seas recently so you should go read that but also all of their oneshots are great as well so you should follow them and did I mention that everyone I’ve tagged are people you should follow because yeah anyhow here’s a crackfic about Goron children that had me shaking out of either fear or confusion for a few days by @angsttronaut ok moving on @thatsnotzelda writes beautifully just take a look at this angsty Revalink thing and also bambambambam you’ve been ambushed by @hatenostorms @going-fancognito @ashrel @lizards-writing-blog so now go request some from them because I said so they’re great also uhhh @idiotic-canadian and @moonchildrenn [Pins_and_Patches on ao3] hate happiness but that’s ok because I get to be emotionally wrecked by their angst and whump hurray! wait fUCK I completely forgot to rec this earlier but my first Zelpha fic was this gorgeous Coffeeshop AU by @theseventhsage called Dreaming of Coffee and Love so go read that *flipping through entire history of ao3* let’s see let’s see... All of the Rito Chronicles by  sturms_sun_shattered is great, and this Teba/Harth one is also a fav and oh CRAP my zelink content is just everything by @fatefulfaerie because it’s just *throws colorful streamers in the air* pretty and I love their writing welp I’m about to collapse lets just end it off with the z’s like @zzariyo and @zeawesomebirdie on ao3  they are some pretty radical french fries if i do say so myself and and ok ok read this other Zelpha coffee au which is also by @kouzaires and this Modern au also by @unavoidablekoishi ok that’s all I can remember right now bye 

[thebestworstidea]

The Green Knight’s Lady (4)

Sequel fic to “The Witch and the Green Knight” (on Ao3)

Warnings: undeserved redemption arc, graphic imagery and as of this chapter violence against minors.

Chapter 1: In which Rowan has Unexpected House Guests

Chapter 2: In Which They Try to Figure Out What the Hell is Going On

Chapter 3: In Which Remus and Rowan’s Stupidity Escalates to Treason (sort of)

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

Chapter 4: In Which Life is Difficult

>-<>-< ——————-<>——————- >-<>-<

     The winter waned in a sloppy miserable way, kicking out with a few snowstorms like the flailing of a dying animal. Despite not really being bothered by the cold, D.N. practically hibernated, most often found in a window seat in the library, going through Rowan’s Mother’s books and being snarky about bad information about fairies. Rowan was fairly sure it was just a way to safely lash out. She dug out an old laptop and gave him access to the Netflix account. If nothing else it kept him distracted. Something Rowan had learned was that the fair folk did, as legend said, love stories. 

And apparently, soap operas and romcoms.

Like herself, Remus seemed out of sorts in the late winter, though more in the way of someone who had woken up long before they wanted to. He’d gone into the woods and returned dressed in his more normal attire, also having brought back a few changes of clothing that was closer to D.N.’s size, and of a finer make than anything in the Baker house, despite Rowan’s sister’s cautious attempt to find a fabric the fae child would like. For the most part, the rest of Rowan’s family treated D.N. with cautious courtesy, and a certain level of ‘not be alone in a room with him’. Remus, by contrast, was treated more as a benign nuisance, though not without kindness.  Frankly, that was more understandable than Rowan’s blase attitude. That didn’t stop a certain level of speculation as to why ‘Leif’ and his friend were staying with them.

     “I’ve figured it out!” 

Rowan balled a pair of socks and tossed it in her sister’s basket across the table. They were sorting the laundry by owner, and Rowan had made it her mission to find as many pairs of socks as she could. 

“Figured what out?” 

“What’s going on with Leif and the kid!” 

“Have you now?” Rowan said dryly and a little nervously. Her sister nodded. 

“It’s pretty obvious if you think about it. The kid is the spawn of the last fairy king.”

“What.” 

“Look, it’s obvious that Leif served him, right? And we know he’s dead. So then Leif disappears for months and reappears with a kid? With scales? We know that Leif’s traveled outside Wickhills before- so clearly he knew where the kid was, maybe he was even the one who took him away, probably more of a Cronos eating his kids thing than a Arthur sent into hiding thing, and now he brought him back.” She pursed her lips. “You know, I bet Leif can change genders like a frog.”

Rowan started laughing. 

“Leif might even be the mother-” she went on. 

“Definitely not.” Rowan choked. 

“But he is related. I’ve connected the dots.” she said smugly.

“You haven’t connected shit.” Rowan retorted throwing a pair of pants at her.

“I’ve connected them.”

     As spring burgeoned forth, Remus agitated with the need to leave the house. It was clear he wasn’t used to staying in one place, even for a few weeks like this. Rowan could always tell when Remus had gone wandering in the night, because D.N. didn’t come down from the attic until he’d come back. It wasn’t as if D.N. was avoiding his so-called hosts, so much as he was totally avoiding the humans in the house as much as possible as if by pretending they weren’t there he could pretend none of this was happening. 

When spring officially arrived Rowan made them clothing, a shirt of heavy green broadcloth for Remus, and a more delicate shirt of the finest white linen she had for D.N. The shirt he generally wore was made of undyed silk, and Rowan feared that the substance had come from the shroud- or rather bag- she’d sewn for the bones of the Serpent King. It was tricky to give them, as D.N. certainly wanted no gifts from her, and Remus wanted to gift her in return. But it was simply tradition, that for the first day of spring everyone had a new garment. So her green brother and erstwhile guest needed something new too, for luck. Honestly, Rowan thought he could probably use all the luck he could get.

     It was a fine warm day in mid April, when leaves were finally starting to show, and only the most stubborn bits of snow were sticking around in the darkest shadows, when Rowan was working in her garden.

“Little tree! You’re wearing pants!” 

The whippy rose vine Rowan had been arguing with slipped out of her hand as the twist tie sprang from her other, and she took the momentary break to glare at Remus, who had appeared in her personal bubble with no warning whatsoever.

“I wear pants all the time.” she retorted, giving him a half hearted shove. 

“Yeah, but usually you have dresses over ‘em.” theatrically, he collapsed to the scrubby grass outside the garden and sprawled in the sun. 

“Well, I learned that arguing with rose bushes in a dress doesn’t end well for the dress.” She grabbed hold again with her gloved hand, and pulled a fresh tie out of her apron pocket, lashing the thorny vine to the wrought iron trellis that kept most fae out of her garden. They could, in theory, pass under the iron arbor that faced the wood, wreathed as it was in plants, but until Remus it hadn’t been much of a problem. “How are you doing?” she asked quietly. He was looking better. He’d been kind of wan, a sickly sort of green rather than his normal healthy hue like a ripening acorn. 

“Starting to feel my oats.” He responded, tipping his face into the sun. “It’s a good spring. I’d say that spring was happy about something.” in the distance, a door opened and closed.

“Seasons do seem to have emotions.” She agreed, and had to step delicately over him to get to the next bush, pulling clippers from her pocket and studying the bush thoughtfully, before pruning a few branches, and returning to tucking them in safely so they wouldn’t grab passers by too badly.  That done she carried the trimmed branches away. D.N. emerged from the widdershins side of the house, having exited the front door and walked so he didn’t have to pass the rowan tree, even if he could do so under the protection of the porch. He glared down at Remus with frustration. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Having a kip?” Remus suggested, as Rowan stepped over him again to get back to the rose bushes. 

“You should tell me as soon as you come back from the forest.” he said grouchily, not making eye contact. 

“Well, not much is going on, so there’s nothing to tell you.” Remus shrugged. 

“That’s good right?” Rowan asked. 

“A secret unsaid is a secret kept.” D.N. muttered, not addressing Rowan at all. “What are you doing out there anyway?” 

“Favors.” Remus sighed. “So many favors. I’m not exactly a favorite right now. People don’t want me to do favors for them, but I need the currency. Also fixing up my house.” he rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s kind of out of the way, so it might be safe enough. It’s nice enough to visit with my little tree, but…”

“We can’t stay here forever.” D.N. agreed. “It buzzes.” 

“Yeah.” Remus nodded. “So I’ve got some improvements to make, and gotta reassert my territory. No one got near the tree, but I don’t have much around it.” he clicked his tongue “Fun and all, but I’m in a hurry.”  he made a kissy face at them both. “But I’ll always hurry back to you.” 

Rowan snorted, and D.N. rolled his eyes. He crossed his arms and cocked his hip, glaring down at the green-clad fae. 

“I’m sure whatever you stay in is better than this.”

“Hey, owch. It’s a good house. We finally got the roof fixed last year.” Rowan glared, waving her clippers at him. D.N. leaned away. 

“Well it’s hardly the hovel I’ve seen other witches live in,” he sneered at the Victorian style house. “But it isn’t anywhere I would choose to stay.” 

“Sorry for not being a magical house.”

“Oh it’s full of magic alright. Human magic, thick and inelegant, like mud on the bottom of a pond.”

“I like mud.” Remus commented, popping up and bracing himself upright on his hands. Rowan noticed that his knuckles were reddened and split. Putting her clippers away again, she dug into her other pocket, coming up with a small, shallow clay pot, closed with a wide cork. She crouched down and grabbed one hand, dabbing the ointment onto the wounds. Remus obligingly offered his other hand when she was done. 

“Why was this in your pocket?”

“It’s better to get the ointment on big jabs right away, and I’m doing lawn work.” she shrugged, and went back to her work. 

After a while, Rowan finished her discussion with the rosebushes, and headed back inside without saying anything. Shortly after that, a car drove up hidden by the bulk of the house. Another short while later, it drove away again. Rowan returned to her garden, hooking her apron over her head again.

“Bloody busy-body is what she is.” Rowan grumbled to herself. “No need to come by every time, her tea hasn’t changed in over a year, if I wanted everyone coming by and bothering me all the time I’d start up a tea room in town and read palms and cards. It’s what I get for being helpful and offering to do a unique blend.” 

“Can you tell the future?” Remus asked, popping up on the other side of the hedge wall of rose bushes, making Rowan yelp and clutch her rake. 

“Like the weather.” She retorted. “Which is to say, not really worth anything.” 

“You’re a useless kind of witch, aren’t you?” sniffed D.N. who had taken up a seat in an Adirondack style chair they had acquired somewhere, and everyone in the Baker family hated, which is why it wasn’t on the porch.

“Yeah, kind of.” she didn’t rise to the bait, and watched him stare at the woods. “You could go, you know.”

“What?”

“Nothing’s keeping you here if you wanted to leave.”

“Little tree-” Remus said, sounding hurt. 

“Not you, you’re welcome any time. And for that matter, if he wants to go for a bit and come back, that’s fine.”

“I can’t actually. I have to ‘stay here’ until further notice.” 

“Oh right. Fairy parole officer.” Rowan sighed. “Well you could probably get as far as the property line, or where our ‘official’ lot meets up with the woods.”

“It isn’t as if I’m desperate to wander in the woodlands, Witch, I just don’t want to be here. At all.”

“Boy, do I hear that.”  she sighed deeply, pausing to look into the woods herself. The small leaves were misting the tips of the trees with color, and there was a smell of wet and rot in the air. It looked like a storm was building in the west.  It would probably hit the before nightfall, gathering the dark in the clouds and making the night come that much faster in the growing spring day. Better to get her gardening done before it hit, so she’d only have to repair the damage it did, not do that and the maintenance. The plants were being especially springy this year, and she was tempted to put this down to Remus’s presence. 

D.N. continued to watch her, as though she was some sort of reality TV show, while Remus sprawled in the scrubby grass next to his chair. 

When the first cold wet gust hit, all three of them headed inside.

     The storm was really having fun, so they were in Rowan’s room instead of the loft. Remus liked to hang out with both of them, so Rowan coming to work on whatever she was doing -some sort of project involving embroidery floss at the moment- and sit with Remus while Remus would root through her work basket, or bring out a pouch and do something himself- embroidery, or sharpening knives, occasionally woodcarving. Sometimes he’d sit behind Rowan and brush or play with her hair, braiding it into elaborate arrangements that she’d have to ask for help to undo.

Sometimes Danger Noodle would use Remus as a cushion or a backrest as if he was staking his claim. That night however, he’d pulled the beat up floral armchair Rowan kept next to one of her windows to a different window (further away from the dancing limbs of the rowan tree) and settled down with a book.

Rowan noticed that he would raise his hand and rub the back of his neck occasionally as if it were hurting. She nudged Remus’s leg and inclined her head at D.N. He shrugged.

“Are you in pain somehow?” Rowan asked, startling him into dropping his book.

“Kindly mind your own business.” Danger Noodle sneered. 

“Are you cold?” Remus asked. “You do-” he rubbed the back of his neck “lots.” 

D.N. growled under his breath, picking the book up. 

“It isn’t important.” He told them. 

“But it is a thing.”

“You never used to.”

He sighed, explosively. “Are you two going to leave me alone about this?”

“Well now I’m curious.” Rowan admitted tipping her head with a smile on her face that reminded D.N. far too much of Remus’s mischievous expression. If it weren’t for her obvious humanity, he would think they were siblings. “If you’re cold, I could get you a blanket, is all.” 

“I’m not cold.” he rolled his eyes. “I’m a winter.”

She looked unimpressed. “So what’s with the lounging in sunbeams?” 

Danger Noodle sneered at her, scales glinting in the lamplight. 

“It's just a feeling.  It’s like a cold hand on the back of my neck, it’s not squeezing but it’s there.” D.N. spread his fingers over the back of his neck.  “Like something’s watching me, constantly.” 

“Huh.” Remus and Rowan said in unison, heads tipping to the side. Danger Noodle glared, there was no way they weren’t doing that on purpose. 

“Might be something?” Remus asked thoughtfully, looking at the corners of the room. 

“I’d want to keep an eye on him, if it were me.” Rowan admitted. 

D.N. sighed again, exasperated, then Remus perked up digging in one of the many pockets inside his vest.  After a search he came up with a bag, tied firmly shut with cord. He climbed off the bed and went to kneel next to the armchair instead. 

“I made this for you.” Remus opened the intricately tied knot, and from inside the bag, produced a scarf. It looked like heavy silk of some sort, dyed a beautiful saffron yellow, covered in single-thread embroidery. Vines twisted and twined along it, with a snake hidden among them.  D.N. stared at it for a long moment, then recoiled. 

“Are you out of your mind? Wait, never mind I retract the question.” 

“I made it for you a while ago but…” Remus admitted. “You wouldn’t have taken it.”

“I’m not taking it now.” He stood up, tossing the book on the chair. “What makes you think I would even want it?” 

“You’re not as strong now-” 

Danger Noodle hissed, flashing sharp teeth, pupils narrow. 

“-so I’m going to protect you until you’re stronger.” Remus finished as if  he hadn’t just been threatened. 

“I am still stronger than you.” the young fae said disdainfully, drawing himself up to his full, unimpressive height.

“Are you though?” Rowan asked, setting her project down and watching them. 

“I am certainly more powerful than you.” 

“Oh, that’s not even a question.” 

“So what this looks like is Remus is offering you his favor to wear, showing that you’re his...  I’m going to say ‘ward’, because you’re a kid.”

“I am not a kid!” D.N. retorted, stamping his foot like a child. 

“And therefore under his protection. Displaying a connection.” 

“It’s a little more complicated than that, but yeah.” Remus agreed. 

“Which is why I’m not interested.” 

“I don’t have to give you an oath to give you my favor.” Remus pointed out, he just stared up at Danger Noodle entreatingly.  The room was silent except for the storm outside, and the faint sound of someone watching a movie elsewhere in the house. D.N. rubbed the back of his neck again, and Rowan shivered, like a gust of cold air had made it through the window. Her eyes shut and she saw dead branches against a milky sky. Blinking the vision away, she got to see D.N. throw his hands in the air. 

“Uugh enough with the eyes. Fine. I’ll take it, but it doesn’t mean anything.” He accepted the scarf and looped it around his neck, spreading the folds upward to the base of his hair. 

“It means you’re wearing something I made you.” Remus pointed out and rose up, gathering Danger Noodle into a hug, to which he submitted, to Rowan’s surprise. “Which makes me happy.” 

“Mmgnh. Fuck off.” D.N. mumbled, face pressed to Remus’s bicep. 

Rowan decided not to comment on how cute it was.

[slutsofren]

Danger Days Chapter 6: Look Alive, Sunshine

summary: the three of you find more questions than answers and the start of a whole new fuckin' problem im so so so sorry

warnings: tw for gore, bloodshed, hurt/little comfort, angst, gunfight, etc

word count: 4,166 she’s a big bitch lol

read on ao3 here / masterlist

“Let’s look around,” Ellie said dejectedly.

Joel walked off on his own, giving the three of you some space. Ellie went through a door and walked down the hall to her right, following it.

The halls and rooms here were void of your previous allies, not a single soul seemed to be here but you could still make out traces of equipment and feel a semblance of sentimentality from your memories. Damned memories tickling at the edge of your mind.

You picked up some papers and read them quickly, hearing Ellie somewhere in another room asking if anybody is there and Joel off to your right in some other room shuffling around. There was still quite a bit of medical paperwork on the hopes of a cure, of somebody like Ellie coming by.

Unfortunately the research was only bits and pieces but you could catch an idea of a project involving infected monkeys. Suddenly you were startled as Ellie shouted, “Yoo-hoo! Fireflies! Cure for mankind over here! Anyone?”

Before you could tell her to stop, Joel reprimanded her. “Let’s keep it down until we figure out what’s going on.”

You looked over your shoulder and saw him savenging around, picking up remnants of med kits, gears, even forgotten bullets and tools. Idly you think hJoel has the right idea and go off searching around too, pocketing the rest of the papers to finish reading them later.

The three of you continue looking quietly until coming to the conclusion there’s not much here.

“You sure this is where they’d be,” Joel asks you.

“Positive. That room over there was my uncle’s office,” you pointed towards an open door. “They must have pushed back further into the building.”

Ellie was the first to walk down a hall, finding it leading across to a landing with elevators and stairs. The man stayed behind for a beat, eyeing you. Likely second-guessing your motioves. Eventually he turned and walked away, following the teen. At the center of it all were large black containers and she kneeled in front of an open one and began to read, Joel joining her in flipping through the papers.

“Nothing useful,” Ellie states, throwing the papers down a bit more harshly than necessary.

“Ain’t nothin’ here but a bunch of medical mumbo-jumbo.”

You reach for some of the books and a binder and flip through them quickly too, noting some words about failed specimens and subjects not surviving an experiment until ultimately being harvested. Whatever they were doing wasn’t going well and they seemed to be feeling the weight of morality on their shoulders. There was an entry logged by some Doctor Anderson about feeling conflicted about torturing humans and questioning if it was worth it.

Shutting the binder quickly and throwing it in your backpack to finish reading it later, your mental dialog cut short as Ellie sighed heavily, “I don’t get it.”

“Looks like they all just packed up and left in a hurry, unless you got a better idea?”

Before you could answer, a loud metallic bang hit from the floor above the three of you. Ellie and Joel looked at each other before she said a bit grimly, “Maybe not all of ‘em left.”

“Stay close,” Joel commanded.

The stairs up to the third floor was behind Ellie and she went up first as you finished zipping up your backpack and tossing it on.

The floor above was more or less the same, open to the central garden in the middle of the building, objects in disarray, out of use vending machines that you’re pretty positive you used to pry open to steal sodas from. All this, but no Fireflies.

Joel went through a door on the left, probably scavenging for more things to find whereas you and Ellie went the scenic route on the outside corridor.

“What do you think happened?”

“Considering they had enough time to pack up research,” you pointed at some boxes, “they must have left willingly.” You shuffled through some more papers, looking for a clue. “But the question is, why leave?”

Ellie walked inside a door and followed the path of some wires that lead to an old flood light, “There are no bodies. That’s good, right?”

“If we find out where they went,” came Joel’s voice from behind you two.

You followed Ellie down the hall, peering into rooms and broken windows to your left. Suddenly there was another noise coming from behind and when the three of you turned, the very same flood light you’d all passed knocked over, lying prone on the ground.

“Shit,” Joel whispered.

“Um… So it’s probably clickers, right?”

You flashed Ellie a look, “Not the time.”

“Right.”

You all held your breath for a few moments, trying to listen until Joel broke the silence, answering Ellie. “No. Clickers don’t hide.”

He looked at you, giving you a once-over, likely weighing the possibility of you betraying him. You responded in kind expression, silently telling him to give whatever plot he has in mind a try.

Wary old bastard, you thought. As if you’d pull a stunt this far into your mission together, even after he began to act lukewarm to your presence.

You took the lead down a tarp covered hall, not really remembering this area much. They probably did push up to these higher levels judging by all the lab equipment left behind.

Digging in your memory, you recalled everybody keeping to the first and second floors in this building to make bailouts quicker. The militia men were on the rooftops to keep an eye out for any stray hunters or other unfriendlies.

Whatever happened on these floors were not from when you kept around.

Your trio came to a corner room that looked as if it were being used as an x-ray exam area, there were large black television-like screens on the wall that had some mangled imagery on them. Whatever it was put a shudder through you. Along the back wall, Joel found an x-ray abandoned on the counter and picked it up, when you and Ellie looked over his shoulder it looked like a skull with fungal growth on it. Like somebody who was infected for quite some time.

“Gross.” Ellie pretended to gag when she saw the photo.

Joel tucked the x-ray away and went on to look around, you followed by looking in the cabinets for alcohol disinfectant. “They had to have left something behind,” you mumbled to yourself as you began to feel the inklings of irritation slip into your bones.

Joel went to another door, this time leading to some room to the right but as he opened it, a screech came and he jumped, “Jesus!”

You drew your pistol from your hip and pointed it outwards, pushing Ellie behind you until you could hear chittering.

Fuckin’ monkeys , you think as you put your weapon down, faintly seeing three monkeys jump out a window on the opposite side of the room.

Ellie walks next to Joel, peeking into the lab he was stepping into and he leans towards her, “Well, at least it aint clickers.”

“Yeah. No Fireflies either,” she steps into the room. She throws her arms open wide, “Well, maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys.”

You try to stifle a laugh but fail, a light giggle leaves your lips. “At least they’re not flying monkeys.”

“Just keep searching, we'll find something,” Joel says, shooting you a pointed look about your banter with Ellie.

The room looked like it used to be a science lab, naturally. The left and back side of the room were lined with metal cages, likely the ones that originally held the monkeys. Otherwise, there were large black countertop tables around, probably where students listened to their lecture and did hands-on assignments. Joel approached one of the tables in the middle, picking up what looked to be a recorder and pressed play.

A male voice clicked on. There were sounds of shuffling and screeches from the monkeys in the background. “That’s four palettes of lab equipment all packed up and ready to go. Now - big question is what do we do with all you guys. They say the tainted batch needs to be put down. You know what I say? I say screw that. Who made a bigger sacrifice than you, right? If anyone deserves to run free out there it’s-. Hey, easy! Agh. Shit. Oh, no. It bit me. Oh my god,” his breath gets heavy and the recorder stops abruptly.

Holy fuck, they were purposefully infecting animals , you think in horror.

“I’m sure glad we didn’t mess with them monkeys,” Joel says. “Did you know?”

You look at him wide-eyed and slack jawed. “Not a fuckin’ clue. I know my uncle was running blood tests and cell regrowth experiments but nothing like that.”

“He didn’t say where they went,” Ellie said, eyeing the two of you. The tension was minorly palpable, whatever small victory you gained in the camradiery field was now likely gone between Joel and you.

“I know, let’s keep looking,” Joel responded.

You fixed your composure and tried to reassure her, “We’ll find them.”

Your small trio followed the room into another, searching that one but finding nothing of interest in the drawers or on the tables. Not even another research binder. There was another door to the right and Joel approached it, trying to push his way in but there was a green metal object keeping it closed. He looked to you, “Hey, come help me.”

Stepping beside him, the two of you pushed against the door, throwing yourselves against it repeatedly to open it until it gave way. Joel gave you a tense nod, a silent thanks as he walked in first, Ellie close on his heels.

It wasn’t until you entered the room did you see it- the body. It looked to have been dead for quite a while, the bones were very obvious but still held together by the clothes wrapped around them. The person was sitting at a desk, facing the window, where Joel loomed over it as if it didn’t bother him and he picked up what looked to be another recorder.

Click. “If you’re looking for the Fireflies, they’ve all left,” a voice said grimly. You recognized it as the same one from earlier.

Ellie looked up from a binder she was flipping through, “Yeah, no shit.”

“I’m dead,” the man continued, “Or I will be soon. Got me some time to reflect.” Joel fast forwards through the tape, “...been years that felt like we were…”

He fast forwards again, “...fucking thing was a giant waste of ti-...”

And again, “...not gonna do this anymore…”

Ellie sighs while you pace, wishing to listen to the tape in more detail later. “Come on,” Joel grumbles as he fast forwards it yet again.

“...looking for the others, they’ve all returned to Saint Mary’s Hospital in Salt Lake City. You’ll find them there. Still trying to save the world. Good luck with that.”

Ellie sounding mildly hopeful looks to both of you, “Do either of you know where that is?”

“I know the city,” he nods before turning to catch you chewing on your fingernails in thought. “You?”

“I- I remember Marlene mentioning it to Regan on occasion but they talked about it like it was abandoned. I’ve never been there.”

“Is it far,” Ellie asked.

“It ain’t close. I mean on horseback-,” he stops abruptly, something catching his attention out the window.

“What?”

Out of the corner of your eye you see it too. Flashlights peeking through the windows. Just as Ellie asked if they were Fireflies, the light shines on them as they stood by the window and Joel pushed her down, ordering her and you to hit the deck just as whoever was on the other end of that light took a shot at you all, shattering the window.

“Shit,” you shout, ducking down to avoid the coming onslaught of gunfire.

Ellie looked at you, “Who the fuck are these guys?”

He looked at you angrily, “Did you lure them here? Is this some kind of trap?”

“Fuck you, Joel Miller! I didn’t.”

He stared you down. “Fine, It don’t matter,” Joel argued, “We know where to go. Let’s get the hell outta here.” He jerked his chin at you and spit, “Lead the way.”

You wiped the initial shock from your system and went into mission-mode, keeping yourself calm and alert. They followed you out of the room, the three of you crouching to avoid being spotted by the new threat through the windows.

Making your way through the anteroom to the office then through the lab as silently and rapidly as possible while crouching. It wasn’t until you reached the x-ray exam room when you were hit in the chin with something hard, knocking you down, dizzy.

Your mind and vision were in a haze but you managed to catch the vague shape of Joel rush somebody, likely the person who knocked you over, through the newly forming tears in your eyes. Fuck , you thought, your face hurting like a bitch.

Ellie yelled something as she went to help Joel, apparently getting the bright idea to take Joel’s machete from his backpack and swinging it wildly at the stranger.

As they fought the man, you shook your head and rose on your haunches, still dizzy. You could make out the faint shape of a second man running up to attack but through your shifting vision, saw three of him. It didn’t stop you from raising one of your dual guns from your thigh holster, taking aim. Breathing in, slowly breathing out, you took the shot when the three men formed a single one.

The loud bang reverberated through the halls, momentarily distracting you from the brawl happening somewhere to your right but soon that silenced.

“What the fuck was that,” you asked nobody in paricular.

“Don’t look like Fireflies to me,” Joel mumbled in reply, hinting you must have been telling the truth.

Together, you all walked down the tarp covered hall from earlier but saw four shapes run past some red smoke on the only way out of the building, likely trying to cut you all off. “Stay back,” Joel said as he flung one of his makeshift bombs at the intruders. After a moment, it went off and sickly screams were either cut short or continued onto a deadly moan.

Each of you hid behind random turned over tables, guns drawn.

Although six of these strangers were down, it seemed there were more as another came in through the right side, taking a shot at Ellie. Joel responded in kind and shot him square in the neck, the blood splattering a nearby wall.

You followed suit and took aim at somebody ducking below a desk much like you. Your aim was a little off because of that damned kick to the head but you got the guy nonetheless. It was messier than you’d like, the newly forming headache was making things much more difficult.

Together with Joel, you took two more men down until you reached the small lobby where the stairs were only to find another flare emitting red smoke. “What the hell,” you wondered aloud.

“Probably to tell the others how to get to where we were, building is like a maze.”

With that, you and Joel look off, making sure to keep Ellie behind you as your group traversed down the steps, finding another flare. Joel heard them before you and raised his gun. You followed as two more men rounded the corner, both being taken down by the bullets you both expelled into their bodies.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears at the adrenaline rushing through your veins, no matter how much you remained focused at the task at hand. You took a breath in an attempt to ground yourself, following Joel closely behind as he was about to round the same corner, stepping over the two dead bodies when you grabbed Joel, pulling him back as a bullet whizzed by. “Fuckin’ hell,” he gasped.

Taking to the wall you peered out and quickly aimed, letting another bullet rain free. It clashed into the wall behind your target, narrowly missing as the man ducked behind the poor choice of the glass railing. Joel put his hand on your waist, pulling you close as he leaned back around taking his chance on the guy. He must have made it count because soon you heard a soft thud of the body collapsing.

If you weren’t so preoccupied trying to stay alive, you might have noticed Joel kept his large hand on you for a few moments longer than necessary.

Joel left the relative safety of the second floor lobby, nearly running to the exit. You grabbed onto Ellie’s hand as you shoved your nearly empty gun into it’s holster on your thigh, following him. He came to the closed door that led to the next area of classrooms to get you all down to the ground floor but just as he went to open it, it banged open from the inside starling all of you. The force was so strong that it pushed Joel to the glass railing behind him, his body teetering over the edge.

“Joel!”

You dropped Ellie’s hand as you ran to him, trying to get the other man off of him as he choked your companion. By the force and chaos, the rail gave way underneath Joel. As he fell, he pulled the stranger with him.

A scream surely left you as you watched in horror as the two men fell to the ground but it grew louder when you noticed a sickening metal bar poking it’s way through Joel’s stomach, staining red in the sunlight. Beside him, the attacker lay dead in a mangled heap of limbs, his neck at an unnatural angle.

You began to shuffle onto your stomach to drop the distance from the balcony walkway to the ground floor, Ellie close behind you copying your maneuver. Together, you both landed on the ground awkwardly and unbalanced. It was so unbelievably impossible to stay focused as you watched Joel writhe in pain from the impalement as loud banging seemed to invade your senses.

Ellie jumped straight to Joel asking in a rushed panic, “What do you want me to do?”

You couldn’t hear what he said when the double doors burst open, two men with a baseball bat and machete appearing. You grabbed both of your guns, unleashing lead into them with a little more force than necessary.

When you turned back around, you saw Ellie trying to lift Joel. “Don’t!”

You ran to him and dropped to your knees, removing your backpack and began to scrounge around for clean gauze. “You’re only going to create more damage, you old bastard. Stay still.”

With the gauze in hand, you motioned for Ellie to put as much pressure as she could on the frontside of the wound. You tried your best not to jolt him around so much as you tried to assess the entry wound on his back, only to find it was buried in cement beneath him. He groaned, calling out a string of curse words.

“Stop fuckin’ movin’, Joel.”

“Wouldn’t need to if you had good bedside manners. Goddamned brat.”

His small jab at you could have made you cry if you weren’t so invested in keeping the old man alive and with no other alternative to removing the rebar safely from him, you had no choice but to lift him away from it.

You reached into your backpack once more and grabbed a strap of leather you usually kept close by, mostly to fiddle with, and shoved it into his mouth. “To keep you from biting off your own tongue,” you explained while adjusting your position to be directly behind his upper body to prepare and stanche the blood flow from his back. “Although I think we could all use the peace and quiet.”

Whatever comeback he had was cut off as he yelled, muted by the bit. While he was distracted by your words, you had nodded to Ellie to lift Joel straight up. He quickly fell to his knees as he tried to stand, probably ready to pass out from the pain and you padded the entry wound with gauze, holding it tightly.

His words came out weak as he told Ellie, “Just get to the damn horses.”

She looked at you and you nodded, removing one hand to give her a gun. “Do whatever it takes, kiddo.”

She walked in front of you both, her arms held high with the gun in her hand, ready to take on anybody else. She led you both to a classroom and knocked over some wood panels that barely covered a broken window.

“Do you think you can handle it,” you asked him.

He didn’t answer, instead choosing to throw his body over the edge, finding himself on his back once more. “Come on, move,” Ellie demanded of him as you jumped through the window after them. Just as she got him sitting up against a table, another man burst through the door across the classroom, gun ready to fire.

Seeing as you were getting rather low on your own bullets, you reached for Joel’s revolver and threw yourself out from behind the lab table, firing two shots and hitting him in the torso.

“Come on, we gotta get you outta here,” you told him. One look at Ellie and you saw her hands and sweater covered in Joel’s blood, you likely looked the same. Brushing those thoughts away, you and her flanked him on either side, trying to walk him out.

“No, I’m okay,” he moaned. Trying to push you both off him.

“Like shit,” Ellie threw back, “You’re not okay, Joel. Now come on! Fucking walk!”

You kept your free hand up, gun drawn, and Ellie matched your pose to his left. “Down this hall,” you directed, “To the left is the main entrance, we can leave through there.”

Don’t die on me now, Joel Miller , you silently wished, hoped, prayed.

Joel began to sway between you two, his feet were failing beneath him. His body in your arms grew heavier and sluggish with each step making it harder to walk straight. You really tried to keep the gauze at his back secure against the wound but it was hard to do that while also trying to keep him balanced. As you were distracted by assessing the man, he moaned out, “Up.”

You and Ellie looked up the stairs that were against the wall in the lobby and saw two men coming towards you all, “There!”

Ellie raised her gun first, taking shots at random and you did too. It was difficult to do while doing everything possible to not drop Joel but somehow, they too, fell dead along the stairs. On his other side, the teen poked at him out of breath, “I swear to god, I get you out of this, you’re so singing for me.”

You decide to jump in on the joke, trying to lighten the mood, “I think you mean ‘for us’, Ellie.”

Joel coughed a laugh, “You wish.”

Slowly the front entrance inched closer. Ellie left to pry it open and let you two through and Joel let go of you, shoving his body and burst through the secondary doors. He lost his balance and fell down the steps only to see as some other hooded figure with his hands on Whiskey and Callus’ reigns.

Before the straggler could even draw a weapon, you and Ellie took shots at him. Joel’s revolver clicked, notifying it was out, just as the man let go of the horses.

You ran to Joel, lifting him up to his feet. He groaned in pain, “I know, I’m sorry. Just a little longer, alright, cowboy?”

He gave you an odd look as Ellie appeared and she asked him, “Can you get on?”

Whether or not he can is entirely different than if he will, you thought. You were proven right as he jumped up on Whiskey, not even noticing he was getting on the wrong horse.

“Ellie, get on Callus,” you told her as you also swung your leg over Whiskey, saddling in front of Joel. “As for you, don’t bleed all over my goddamn horse. Hold tight.”

A part of you was worried that he didn’t even bother to jab, you kicked Whiskey’s underbelly and Joel’s body slouched against your back, passing out. The fact the warmth that seeped through your body was likely his blood was gnawing against the corners of your mind but you shooed the thoughts away. Together with Ellie, you filed out of the university as fast as you could, not looking back.

[missjanjie]

Better Than Revenge | Chapter 3

Title: Better Than Revenge Summary: Karma Inc.’s business structure is simple - clients hire them when they’ve been grievously wronged and they send one of their revenge mercenaries to right them. As painstaking as their efforts to remain ethical may be, that may be tested when former detective, Rosé, enlists the squad to pick up where she couldn’t on a much higher scale, with potentially greater consequences. Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter) | ~8k (total) Relationship(s): Rosnali (Rosé/Denali Foxx), Jankie (Jackie Cox/Jan Sport), Halldoll (Nicky Doll/Jaida Essence Hall), Gimone (Gigi Goode/Symone), Gottlux (Gottmik/Olivia Lux) Rating: T

Read on AO3 | Ko-Fi

Chapter Summary: Rosé learns Gigi, Symone, and Denali's revenge origin stories

-

Woodstock, IL — 2016

Gigi took a deep breath as she stared at herself in the mirror. She could do this, it was fine. Every time her suspicions or confusion would bubble up, she forced them back down. Hannah was nice, she was different from the other popular girls. She didn’t see the ‘weird art lesbian’ with the braces and thick-rimmed glasses, who rarely got pop culture references post-1989, at least, that’s how she made her feel.

“I’ll text you in the morning,” she assured her mother as she threw her bag over her shoulder. “It’ll be fine, I’m just hanging out with a friend.” She was out to her mom, of course, that was her biggest ally. But she wasn’t ready to tell her that the head cheerleader had taken an interest in her. Maybe when and if they became official. Until then, she shook off the last of her nerves and drove to her house, only pulled from her thoughts by the time she was sitting on Hannah’s bed.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Hannah cooed, batting her lashes and resting her hand on Gigi’s thigh.

If Gigi hadn’t been so blinded by her crush, she might’ve thought Hannah was laying it on a little thick, but she couldn’t act like she didn’t enjoy the attention. “Me too, a-about you, I mean. Sorry, I’m just nervous…”

“How come? I didn’t come on too strong over text, did I?”

“No, no I liked it, it’s just… I’m a virgin, like, I’ve only ever kissed before,” she confessed, her cheeks flushing rosy pink. She had talked a big game over text, but being faced with the chance of starting a physical relationship brought her back to reality.

Hannah pouted, rubbing Gigi’s thigh as she thought, letting her hand inch higher. “Well, you’ve got fantasies, don’t you? I know you’ve masturbated before. What do you think about while you touch yourself?”

Gigi hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. The other girl wasn’t wrong, she did know what she liked, could conjure up vivid imagery to get herself aroused, but she had never said any of it out loud. “I like powerful, confident women. I guess that’s something that drew me to you,” she started, “I wanna just… give up control, be dominated.”

“Really? Tell me more,” Hannah prompted, kissing along her neck and jaw and slowly tugging Gigi’s shirt off in an attempt to coax her to continue.

When Hannah didn’t seem deterred by her confession, Gigi started to relax. “It’s just, I don’t know, I always feel the need to be in control of my life and with sex, I just wanna let go and give up that power.”

“So like, what would you want someone to do to you?” she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

She bit down on her lip. “Um… tie me up, spank me, choke me, and I know it’s kind of intense but maybe something like cnc or—” the incessant buzzing of her phone distracted her and, concerned it might be an urgent call or text from home, she took her phone out. “Sorry, one sec.”

It wasn’t from home, she had two missed calls from her best friend, Crystal, followed by several texts.

Crystal: GIGI STOP Crystal: SHUT UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Crystal: She’s broadcasting you on IG live! Crystal: We can see and hear everything…

Gigi’s face fell, her first instinct to pull her shirt back on. Then she slowly looked up and in front of her, that’s when she saw it, nestled between stuffed animals — Hannah’s phone with an instagram live going. She didn’t say anything, just ran out of the house as fast as her legs would take her and through her tears drove right to Crystal’s house. That was when the two of them formed their plot.

In and of itself, it was simple. Gigi waited one day until Hannah was away for a cheer competition and went to her house. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Mrs. Andrews, but I think I left some of my homework in Hannah’s room, she just said to let you know so I can run in and grab it.” Once inside, she found exactly what she was looking for, sliding Hannah’s diary into her backpack and went right back out.

“This feels very Mean Girls, I love it,” Crystal remarked as they taped page after page of the diary on lockers, walls, anywhere they could.

“Well, plan B was to go the Heathers route, so let’s just hope it works.”

And to say it worked was an understatement. As it turned out, Hannah had written things far more incriminating, and because it came from someone of her social ranking, it made everyone immediately lose interest in Gigi’s livestream scandal, and she graduated with the anonymity she needed for survival.

Present Day

“I’ll be honest with you,” Rosé remarked, “it’s kinda hard to picture you as an ugly duckling, especially the way you described it.” Gigi was too pretty, too perfect. Something didn’t add up.

Gigi got out her phone and scrolled through her photos until she found one from her senior year. “Believe it, doll,” she said as she held her phone up. She watched with an amused expression as Rosé looked from her phone, to her, and back with her eyes wide and mouth agape. “Braces off, lasik, learned a lot about how to dress while going to FIDM, which is where I met Symone, who helped fill in the blanks.”

“And made sure she got to do all them things she listed to that bitch without feeling ashamed about it,” Symone added with a smirk, draping her arm around Gigi and pulling her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Why don’t you tell her your story next, baby?” Gigi prompted.

Conway, AR — 2014

Symone watched her sister throw her bag over her shoulder and start to sneak out the window. “Look, I ain’t snitching or nothing, but I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

She and her sister, Lala, were close, sometimes referring to themselves as twins – they were only ten months apart, in the same grade at school. And until the summer after sophomore year, they had the same group of friends. But the crowd Lala ran with now just rubbed her the wrong way.

“You worry too much,” Lala brushed it off. “I’ll be fine, in bed by morning like nothing happened.”

But when Symone got a collect call two hours later, she found out things were far from fine. She drove down to the county jail as fast as she could without getting pulled over herself. Luckily bail was a mere fifty dollars, but once she got her sister back in the car, she looked at her incredulously. “What the fuck happened?”

“One of ‘em brought weed, another brought booze, but when the cops rolled up on us, they said it all was mine. And who was they gonna believe, me or three white kids?” Lala sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me,” she whispered.

“I don’t either,” Symone admitted quietly, frustrated at her inability to come up with an immediate solution. “But we’re gonna do our best to get you out of this, okay?”

The best they could do wasn’t easy. It involved a lot of legal maneuvering, meetings with one person in a suit after another. The end result wasn’t ideal, but it was far better than what could have been. Lala was fined three hundred dollars and put on thirty days of probation. In and of itself, it didn’t seem so bad, but the residual consequences took their toll.

“I lost my scholarship, ‘mone. That was my ticket into college,” Lala sighed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know I’m getting off with a slap on the wrist, but I really ain’t thrilled about taking out student loans,” she sat down on the floor beside the bed, head leaning against it. “Or maybe I’ll start with community college, I dunno. It just fucking sucks that they all got off with warnings.”

Symone’s brows knitted together, her lips pressed into a fine line. “Don’t you worry baby,” she said after a moment, “they gon’ face consequences one way or another.”

It had taken most of spring break, but Symone finally had all of the pieces for her plan. “Not the most convoluted thing in the world, but it’ll get the job done,” she mused.

Lala looked at her sister, then at her desk and back. “Do I even wanna know where the hell you got coke from?”

“No, you do not.”

Getting the drugs was the hard part. Getting into school early to plant the drugs in the lockers of Lala’s former friends was far easier, as was leaving an ‘anonymous tip’ from a ‘concerned student’ on the principal’s desk.

“God, I wish I could’ve seen them get hauled off in cop cars,” Lala remarked as she and Symone drove home from school. The three students were quietly escorted out of class and arrested, the school wanting to bring as little attention as possible. “Shame that they rich daddies will still get them off lightly.”

Symone sighed and nodded. “Sure, but they’re still gonna get something, which is more than what they got when they threw you under the bus. Bet they’re gonna think twice before they let someone else take the fall for them.”

Her sister smiled softly and shook her head. “You really ain’t gotta do all that for me, you know?”

“I know,” she hummed, “not gonna stop me, though.”

Present Day

“Wow, that’s both selfless and hardcore,” Rosé remarked with an impressed nod. “Did she ever find out where you got the coke from?”

Symone laughed and shook her head. “Nah, that secret I’m taking to the grave.”

Rosé jokingly put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, fair enough,” she chuckled. After a moment, she turned her attention to Denali. “That just leaves you, princess,” she remarked, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s your claim to infamy?”

Denali tossed her hair off her shoulder and grinned softly. “Who, me?” she cooed, fluttering her lashes. “Well, it is kind of an interesting story…”

Nicky rolled her eyes and tossed one of the couch pillows at her head. “Stop flirting and get on with it already.”

Fairbanks, AK — 2011

Denali groaned when the sound of loud footsteps racing up the stairs pulled her from her quasi-asleep state, then pulled a pillow over her head when the door swung open.

“What the hell are you still doing in bed when the qualifiers are in two hours?” her friend, Kahmora, asked with incredulous horror. She yanked the covers off of her, but stepped back in concern when she finally caught sight of Denali’s face. “Oh god, you look like shit.”

She frowned and rolled over to face away from her. “I feel like I died and was in the process of being reanimated, then killed again,” she lamented. “It’s probably food poisoning… or maybe swine flu came back, I dunno.”

“Did you eat anything unusual?”

Denali furrowed her brows as she wracked her brain. “I mean, Tara gave me those brownies and I had one, but when she said they were ‘special’, I just thought she meant they had weed in them, but that sure as hell isn’t it.” With as much energy as she could muster, she sat upright. “Oh my god, do you think she poisoned me?”

Kahmora arched her brow. “I think that’s a bit much, even for her. Do I think she put something like a laxative in there so it’d take you out long enough that you couldn’t beat her out in the international qualifiers? Yeah, probably. She’s a cunt.”

The skater scowled, her jaw clenched. “She’s a dead cunt,” she corrected, then suddenly shot out of bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she muttered as she raced to the bathroom yet again.

There wasn’t an obvious revenge plan for Denali. She knew that nothing she did would get her spot in the competition, and she wondered if it was even worth it. But her pettiness and spite won out and she began planning out her course of action.

“Remember,” she was saying, “if all else fails, we go the Tonya Harding route.”

Kahmora sighed. “For the last time, you are not whacking Tara’s kneecaps, now let’s go.” Despite some pouting from Denali, they went to get the gears turning in their plan. They got to the ice rink and slipped into the locker room without being noticed by Tara, who was in the middle of practice.

Denali picked the lock and took out Tara’s change of clothes. Then she reached into her own bag and pulled on latex gloves and a plastic bag containing several leaves of poison ivy. She turned the shirt, pants, and socks inside out and firmly rubbed the leaves against the fabric, making sure she left as little fabric uncovered as possible. “She’s lucky I’m merciful or I’d rub it on her panties too,” she remarked offhandedly.

Kahmora tilted her head as she watched her. “Do you actually think it’ll take her out of the competition?” she asked as her friend put the leaves and gloves into the ziploc bag.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s possible, probable really, that the constant itching might make it too difficult for her to skate. But this is more about getting even with her. I might not ever get another chance to compete for internationals. She’s lucky the only retribution she’s getting is a few weeks of itchy blisters.”

“Otherwise you’d Tonya Harding her?”

Denali nodded brightly. “Exactly! Now come on, we have to get rid of the evidence.” And with that, they scurried out of the locker room as inconspicuously as they’d entered it and threw out the evidence in a trash can several blocks over.

When the news broke that Tara had withdrawn from the competition due to ‘unexpected physical problems’, Denali did her best to feign shock and didn’t celebrate until she and Kahmora were alone.

“So, what do you wanna do now?” Kahmora asked.

Denali tilted her head in thought, then smirked. “Let’s go get brownies.”

Present Day

“Personally, I still think you should’ve busted her knees,” Mik mused offhandedly. “Like, I bet you would’ve figured out a way to get away with it, you conniving bitch,” he teased.

Denali shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s not very original and it’d look a lot more suspicious on my end.”

“I think it was pretty badass,” Rosé offered, making the other woman smile which, in turn, made her heart flutter — something she chose to actively ignore. Instead, she let all of their stories sink in. None of their reasons for revenge were out of line, none of their victims undeserving. And none of the consequences were as severe as some of the things she had seen in her time. “You all really know what you’re doing, huh?”

“We wouldn’t have been able to keep this up for three years if we didn’t,” Jan replied. “We had all of the potential on our own, but we make a difference together, and then we added Jackie to tie up the loose ends. It’s been smooth sailing from there.”

“Yeah, and now Jackie ties you up instead,” Nicky teased, earning an eye roll in response.

Rosé watched the group interact with a fond smile. She had assumed they all got along to be working together for as long as they have been, but she hadn’t anticipated them truly behaving like a family. It was a stark contrast to the constant coldness and curtness she had grown accustomed to, both in her previous career and in the environment she grew up in. She only hoped it would make the tasks ahead that much easier for them.