#could be a subplot with side characters here

[bookshelf-in-progress]

You could make a really cool cottagecore fantasy novel using the structure of Little House in the Big Woods. Where the main characters live in a stable environment and go about their daily lives dealing with the domestic details of the world, but they meet characters who have gone on adventures. So a huge chunk of the book is made up of the stories that these characters tell. The main characters would face very little peril, but you'd still have a book full of thrilling stories.

I'd try for a middle-grade fantasy. Center it on a group of siblings whose parents went on save-the-world adventures, but have settled down to raise a family. Maybe they run an inn that caters to people from a ton of the nations and races of this fantasy world. Or maybe they're just frequently visited by old adventuring companions who always have cool stories to share about the adventures they've been on or the events or history of their homeland.

[swan2swan]

Introducing the "Pet the Tortoise" Litmus Test:

If your show has time to let a character just sit and pet a tortoise for a scene--no matter how brief--it's a Good Show and you're well-paced. It's just a brief moment of pleasant comfort, it doesn't have to move the plot forward or provide crucial exposition, but it shows that you have both some time to spare in the story and you're letting your characters be Happy for a minute.

[mariasont]

Ideas From a Book - A.H

a/n: im writing what i want !!!!!!!!!!!!! i have a gun kink SUE ME !!! if you don't like it don't read it !!!!!!!

anyhow HAPPY READING

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch comes home to find you reading and finds out you have a gun kink

warnings: 18+ MDNI, a lot going on here yall idk, gun going in ur vag, reader loves smut she's just like me fr, gun kink!, dirty talk, established relationship, yada yada

wc: 2.3k

When Hotch returned home from work, the ritual he had was comforting in its predictability: shedding his coat and shoes, setting down his briefcase, and locking up his gun. Then, he'd find you, as he always did, nestled into the couch, book in hand. 

It was something he could count on, as reliable as the sun rising in the morning. Your bookshelf was a spectrum of genres--science fiction, poetry, mystery, historical, fantasy--name it, you've likely read it. Among these, he had noticed a trend--your favoritism for romance. It was fitting, as you've always been an ardent believer in fairytales and happy endings. It was a belief he intended to uphold, a fairytale ending he was set on creating for you. 

The book you held today had a cover he didn't recognize. He cleared his throat, announcing his arrival. Your eyes met his in an instant, and he was struck anew by just how pretty you are. Effortlessly so. He told you as much, though you seldom accepted the compliment. 

"Hi, handsome," you said, infusing your words with honey as you folded the corner of your page and laid the book aside. Spencer would scold you for that. "How was work?"

A shrug rolled off his shoulders, fingers working to loosen the tie that felt like a noose after a long day. Stepping further into the living room, he sighed, "Heavy with paperwork."

"That's no fun," you said, lips curving into a delicate pout. 

It was an invitation he couldn't ignore. Leaning in, his hands found your face, and as your lips met, you giggled, pulling back just enough to study his face, the harsh lines under his eyes, reading the fatigue on his features like a well-thumbed novel. 

"What are you reading?" he questioned, easing down next to you, the couch dipping to his weight. 

You dodged his eyes, fingers absently fidgeting with your earlobe as you gave him a half-smile, tilting the book just enough so he couldn't catch the title.  

"Just some romance book," you admitted, with a slight uptick in your voice. "Garcia recommended it."

He regarded you with a contemplative frown. Normally, a book you would have gone on for hours, detailing every character, plot twist, and subplot, dissecting its layers and intricacies in exhaustive detail. 

Aaron watched as you placed the book on the side table, movements deliberate. You positioned yourself across his lip, a seemingly innocent distraction. It almost worked. Your soft thighs sinking into his calloused hands, as if they were crafted just for him. He recognized your ploy, though, giving your leg a squeeze a little tighter than necessary. 

You leaned in, your breath tinged with the minty traces of your afternoon tea, a detail as intimate as any secret shared between lovers. He nipped at your lip, a gentle diversion, as his hand crept towards the book.

You wriggled in his hold, vying to get there first, but he was faster. Much faster at that, although you loved to challenge him on that. He secretly loved when you did. He loved you. 

"What are you doing?" Your voice was rising in a panicked pitch. You stretched your hand out, trying to reclaim it, but he kept it just beyond reach.

Aaron's arm formed a band around you, effectively pinning your arms to your torso while you writhed within his grasp. A groan was stifled in his throat. "Quit that."

You smiled, a hint of tease in the curve of your lips and stilled. You were acutely aware of the effect you had on him, and it was a feat achieved with little effort. 

"Why are you being so secretive about this?"

He nodded to the book. The cover was unassuming, black with a smattering of designs that sprawled across it. It looked like any other book you read.

"I'm not being secretive," you insisted, deliberately avoiding his probing gaze. "You're just being nosy."

"Oh, am I?" He couldn't help but laugh, nose crinkling as he dismissed the notion with a shake of his head.

You nodded, not saying anything in response. He thumbed through the book, opening it to a random page.

"Wait--," you pleaded, but his attention was already glued to the ink. You wrapped yourself around him, your face buried in the folds of his crisp dress shirt as you murmured into the fabric, "please don't."

His arm shifted from your waist to cradle the back of your neck. "Gasping at the cool metal of the gun running across my belly, I want him press it into my panties."

Your breath caught, warmth flooding your cheeks as you pressed your face deeper into his chest. "Aaron, stop."

But he didn't, of course, he was far too intrigued.

"Parting my legs, I roll into the metal. He runs it back and forth across my pussy, wetting it against the barrel to my entrance," He continued, wetting the pad of his thumb as he turned the page, eyes meeting yours. 

He cocked an eyebrow as if waiting for your response. You didn't give him one, huffing a sigh as you plucked the book from his hands and flung it onto the cushions of the couch.

"Are you...into this?" He articulated each word with deliberate slowness, as if navigating a minefield. "This is a little intense."

You groan, tucking your chin down to your chest as you fought against the tingling sensation clawing up your spine.

"I don't know." The words tumbled out in a murmur, a feeble shield against the embarrassment flooding your senses.

It was the truth. You didn't know. Ink on a page was a far cry from reality. Nonetheless, your recent daydreams were filled with images of Aaron with his gun. God, forbid you see him on duty.

He shifted you off his lap, and you felt the corners of your mouth turn downward involuntarily. You watched his retreating figure vanish down the hall, your thoughts racing at breakneck speed, gripped by the fear that you had scared him off, that this was his tipping point.

The welling tears were poised to fall, but they paused as he came back into view. Holding his gun.

Your breath halted, a knot forming in your throat as you clumsily rose to your knees on the couch, your eyes wide and transfixed on him.

You watched, more like ogled, as he methodically removed the magazine, opening the action and ejecting the cartridges of the gun, putting the safety into place. Your throat felt dry. His advance towards you was predatory, a slow march that rekindled a well-known flutter in your stomach.

"Aaron?"

He stepped in front of you, the firearm dangling loosely at his side. You gazed up at him, peering through the shelter of your lashes.

"Do you want me to fuck you with this?"

You knew you said you didn't know if this was something you were into, yet here you were, retracting every syllable. Suddenly so incredibly turned on it almost hurt.

You nodded vigorously, your enthusiasm outpacing your self-awareness.

The look he gave you was one you recognized instantly, eliciting yet another soft pout before you gave in. "Yes, please, Aaron."

"Good girl," he said, making your heart skip a beat as he pressed the nose of the gun into your chest, forcing you backward. "Always so good for me."

You nodded again, even though there was no need to, but you weren't really focused on his words. You were focused on the gun pressing into your body, imagining it pressed against your clit, up your pussy.

"You're sure, um," you managed, trying to catch your breath, pausing in the middle of your sentence to clear your throat, "that all the safety stuff is on?"

You sounded dumb, you were aware, but all intellectual thoughts were out the window.

He let out a deep chuckle, the sound sending another wave of desire straight to your core. "Yes, baby, all of the safety stuff is on."

"Okay, good."

He pressed his lips to yours, the gun still flush against your chest, now grazing your nipple as you arched into him.

He pulled back only enough to speak into your mouth. "What's your safe word?"

"Mercy."

He hummed in response, fingers threading through your hair as he pushed the barrel of the gun down your stomach. You froze, a subtle gap forming between your lips as your eyes remained locked on the motion.

He brought his mouth to your ear, nipping at the skin lightly as he pushed the metal further down your body, lifting the hem of your shirt with it. You gasped at the feeling, pulling your bottom lip through your teeth as you tried to hide just how affected you were.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." It was immediate. Without hesitation.

He kissed your lips, gentle and unhurried, as if he was savoring the sensation, like he thought I might crumble under too much pressure. He might be right.

"Take these off."

His gun pressed against the waistband of your shorts. You didn't waste a second, lifting your hips and shimmying out of the fabric. A sound of approval vibrated from his throat, his fingers entwining in your hair, gently drawing your face closer to his.

"Are you sure about this?"

A nod came naturally, followed by a yes breathed out like a prayer, as your eyes trailed down to in between your thighs where the gun was now sitting. 

"Aaron, I need it."

"Oh, you need it, huh?" He tsked his tongue, running the nose of the gun over your clothed heat. "I can tell."

You let out a sharp gasp, bucking your hips into the device as you met his eyes, willing him to keep going. You had never been more turned on in your life. His hand moved from your neck to the small of your waist, pinning you in place. With one hand. Fuck.

He laid the gun beside your hip on the couch in order to pull your panties off. You squirmed at the rush of cold air encompassing between your thighs. His eyes were glued to your pussy, tongue darting out to swipe across his lips.

"Christ sweetheart," he hissed, sliding one finger through your slit, showing you the moisture you had produced. "Needy girl."

"Aaron, please." You needed something inside of you.

He laughed, at your expense, but you didn't care, concentrated on his hand grabbing the Glock and repeating the action his finger just did.

You choked out a sound, stuttering against the touch. He in a merciful mood apparently, pushing the gun slowly into your sopping cunt. You were writhing against it, your mouth parted as you tried to get used to the foreign object.

"You okay?" He asked, pausing his motions, giving you a second to adjust.

You swallowed; gaze drawn down to where he was sliding the gun into you. You bit down on your lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Yes."

"You can take it," he said, but the way the firearm was stretching you made you unsure.

It wasn't the size necessarily, but the way the groves and magazine were cramming into you was making hold your breath, which him being him he noticed immediately.

His hand rested gently against the pouch of your stomach. "Breathe."

The pent-up breath escaped your lips, and he rewarded you by sinking the gun further into your pussy. You fingers wrapped around his biceps, the tips digging slightly into the constellation of freckled skin.

One final thrust and it was fully in you. You could feel every groove and contour of it, cunt clenching and unclenching at the sensation. 

"Look at you," he drawled, beginning to fuck you with it. It transcended the prose of any book, a sensation that no array of printed words could fully capture. "You like that?"

Nodding was your only recourse, mouth hanging pathetically open as you moaned and whined. You were in a daze-like state, every sound and motion involuntary.

"This is the Glock 17," he explained, thrusting the gun faster, causing you to tighten your hands around his neck, bringing him so close his words were melting into your skin. "It feeds from a staggered-column magazine that has a 17-round capacity. It sends 115 gr bullets downrange at about 1200 feet per second."

You could feel your arousal leaking to your thighs, coating his forearm in the process, but that would never stop him.

"This gun has taken the lives of nineteen unsubs."

You know this should make you coil away, that it should feel wrong somehow, but all you felt was that growing tightness in your core, your legs shaking, your chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace.

"You don't even care, do you? All you care about is getting yourself off." His chuckles wove through his words, and his motions didn't falter, intent of ushering you to your peak. "My dirty girl."

You were so close, the edges of the gun managing to hit every spot just right.

"Come on, honey."

Fuck. You let out another strangled gasp, way louder than intended as your back arched like a string of a bow, and then suddenly you released.

A prism of colors exploded behind your squeezed eyes. A collage of musical notes falling over your ears. Your whole body was being ignited as you gushed around the gun.

"Christ." His new favorite word as of late. He withdrew the weapon from you.

You let out a subdued hum, propping yourself on your elbows, your eyes lazily rising to meet his with a tender flutter.

"You're so pretty," he murmured, the compliment settling on you like dew on morning flowers. Your gaze caught the gun, now bathed in a liquid gloss, cradled in his hands.

"Oh my god," you said, hand covering your mouth.

He laughed softly, placing it on the coffee table before his lips brushed against yours, a soft and measured caress that belied his previous urgency.

"You might need a new one," you said sheepishly, heat creeping into your ears as he pressed another soft kiss to your cheek.

"Absolutely not," he murmured into your flushed skin. "It just became my gun of choice."

You were going to give him the best head of his life.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[maraschino-memos]

Writing Platonic Relationships

When writing relationships between characters, one of the best things you can do as a writer is master the art of platonic relationships. Not every relationship has to turn romantic—and when done right, platonic bonds can hit harder than love stories.

But writing them well? That takes a lot of intentionally-written cues and dialogue. Here are just a few tips:

1. Establish emotional intimacy early

Platonic doesn’t mean distant. Let them see each other. Let one character be the first person the other calls when things go wrong. Show moments of vulnerability, casual care, and trust without flirty undertones. Let them have traditions, inside jokes, or quiet routines together.

2. Don’t hint at romance “just in case”

If you’re going for a purely platonic vibe, don’t toss in romantic tension as bait. It cheapens the relationship. Let them have chemistry that’s based in compatibility, not attraction. Not every deep bond needs a romantic subplot. Avoid unnecessary lingering glances or “almost touch” moments unless it’s 100% platonic context (e.g., comforting after a trauma).

3. Give them shared history or shared growth

Platonic duos feel real when we see how they’ve been through things together. Maybe they survived something. Maybe they just grew up side by side. What matters is that their connection isn’t shallow. Flashbacks, casual references to “remember when,” or unspoken teamwork go a long way.

4. Let them be physically close without it meaning more

One character leaning on the other’s shoulder. Braiding hair. Holding hands in a high-stress moment. All of this can be platonic when framed right. Normalize physical affection without romantic framing. You could show how each character interprets the touch. If it’s comfort or instinct—not attraction—it’s platonic.

5. Use other characters to reinforce it

Have others in the story acknowledge the bond without assuming it’s romantic. It helps the reader accept it as non-romantic, too. Maybe someone can say, “You two are like siblings” or “You always have each other’s back.” Reinforce the type of love.

6. Give them conflict—but let them choose each other

Don’t make it perfect. Platonic love, like any bond, includes disagreement. But when they still come through for each other, that’s what makes it powerful. Maybe one apologizes without ego. The other forgives without resentment. That’s platonic strength.

---

Platonic relationships aren’t the backup to romance—they’re their own kind of energy. They don’t need to be slow-burn romances in disguise. Let them be bold, soft, loud, or quiet—but most of all, real. Because at the end of the day, platonic love deserves to be written with the same depth, stakes, and tenderness as any love story.

[sparrowlucero]

ik you were joking but I would be genuinely interested to hear about the flux cowriting credits strife if you feel like going into detail on it

So I have a big conspiracy theory about season 13 of Doctor Who ("Flux"), namely that there's a lost episode was scripted and even possibly filmed in near entirety, but ended up being cut and cannibalized in post production due to behind the scenes issues, and the fandom has yet to pick up on it.

For anyone who doesn't watch the show: Flux is a miniseries of Doctor Who; a full season was not commissioned because it was produced during Covid. The most important stuff about it for the purposes of this post are:

It's 6 episodes long (¹). The episodes are all directly continuous and could not be shuffled around. (I should clarify here that, no, the showrunner can't simply choose on a whim to make 10 episodes, or only make 4; they had to stick to 6, as that was the amount they were picked up and scheduled for)

The showrunner, Chris Chibnall , wrote every episode apart from episode 4 (Village of the Angels) which he has a co-writing credit on.

(More subjectively but perhaps relevant) The season is largely considered to be kind of a structural mess and (less subjectively) there appears to some abnormal and consistent production issues (²)

So the first thing I need to evidence here is that Chris Chibnall, aforementioned showrunner and writer of the entire season, was late. Like, really late.

Word of mouth gossip had been circulating for a while that there was some sort of on-set problem involving filming having to be paused because he was still finishing scripts: (³)

This would later be confirmed at a Gallifrey One panel (⁴) with Matt Strevens, the executive producer, who suggests that filming stopped to allow Chris Chibnall to finish scripts; he further implies that large swathes of episode 5/Block 2 weren't written until Episode 4/Block 1 (in which Kevin McNally debuts) was filming:

So with that context, let's talk about that Episode 4, "Village of the Angels", the only episode not attributed solely to Chris Chibnall. Co written by Maxine Alderton.

The filming pics reveal an interesting bit of trivia for Village: namely, the clapperboards show that the story was actually filmed as episode 5, not 4:

As the above tweet suggests, this doesn't make much sense. The miniseries is, again, a single continuous plot. It's not like they flipped Village and the current episode 5, Survivors of the Flux; the latter explicitly takes place chronologically after it. And yet, Village having been intended as the penultimate episode 5 is further evidenced by the original trailer for it, in which a character states that the story takes place on the 28th of November. This line is dubbed over in the final episode and subsequent trailers to instead say the 21st:

Why is this line important enough to dub? Because that's meant to line up with the air date of the episode. Episode 4 aired on the 21st and 5 on the 28th. But something happened in post production, and now it's episode 4 on the 21st instead (⁵):

So if none of these episodes were moved around but it does seem like Village was meant to be episode 5, where and what is the original episode 4?

I have a theory.

Flux has a recurring subplot involving two side characters, a married couple (Bel and Vinder) who have been separated by the titular disaster and are traveling the universe to reunite with each other. This story is told through segments sprinkled throughout the episodes. These have a different writing style (including a diary-esque narration only present in these scenes) and an internally consistent visual style that looks somewhat different to the other parts of the season.

Village of the Angels, for instance, is a moody, dark episode set in a village in the 1960s:

However, Bel and Vinder's segments in the episode have a somewhat different look:

On top of this, they never intersect with the episode's A plot (literally or in any clear thematic way), and the majority of these segments piece together into one single scene that seems to have been cut up.

So, what I think is that the bel and vinder scenes across the middle of the season were originally a single full story, an episode 4 that took a breather from the main plot and characters to follow the lives of these two side characters; the differing visual and writing style is due to it originally having been filmed separately and with a somewhat different artistic intent. I believe Chris Chibnall's cowriting credit on Angels exists because these specific scenes are from a script he wrote, but that otherwise the Angel script can be credited solely to Maxine Alderton by normal cowriting standards.

"But wait," you might say, "I thought there were already 6 episodes that are all plot relevant? If no episodes existing right now can be cut, how could this 7th episode exist?"

Remember this tidbit:

The adventures in question comprise a large amount of the next episode (Episode 5: Survivors of the Flux), nearly 20 minutes of a 50ish minute runtime (and frankly, much of the rest of the episode is somewhat fluffy build up that feels like it's taking advantage of an extended runtime). A version without this added plot would, in my opinion, only warrant one final episode rather than two.

I think the showrunner, still scrambling to finish scripts as the episodes were being filmed, and making a snap decision to include a new major subplot (⁶), wrote a finale script so long and with so many plot threads that the only way to keep all this material of was to split it into two episodes, 5 and 6. And because they only could only make 6, he had to get rid of one of the previous 5 episodes - the already scripted and filmed ones - to make room for this new episode 5. A tough order when it's a plot-heavy miniseries... if not for episode 4 being a standalone divergence from the main plot about the lives of two side characters, one that could, in theory, be cut up and dispersed throughout the season without continuity issues for the main story.

(Some notes and clarifications under the cut)

(1) some sources initially reported the episode count as 8; this wasn't inaccurate - the 2022 new years/easter special were part of the episode order. Flux itself was always meant to be 6 episodes long. (2) A few of the production issues include: - episodes filming without a second draft:

- the fx team that had been on the show since 2005 abruptly leaving midseason (because they "didn't feel like part of the team anymore") and returning as soon as the creative team changed, including the head of the studio implying they weren't properly credited (mild vfx body horror warning in link):

- people working on additional projects such as books not receiving clear information on the characters they were assigned to write:

- and likely a director who was put on hold due to a script being rewritten:

Among other things I can't directly cite at the moment, including vfx artists having to do whole episodes solo in crunch time and writers not being told their work was massively overhauled until it aired due to major changes being extremely late in production.

While I don't wish to pontificate too much here and many of these things are pretty normal by themselves, I do think it could paint a picture of a production where an episode well into filming may genuinely be cut on a whim and without consideration for the crew, artists, etc. working on the show. (3) This reddit post comes from a leaker who was known to be consistently accurate. (4) Gallifrey One does not allow filming of panels. I know Kevin's livetweets of panels to be accurate. (5) It's very, very unlikely the entire season was moved back a week, as the premier is a Halloween special that was certainly always intended to air on Oct. 31st. (6) I don't wish to insinuate Chris Chibnall is, throughout his career, an inherently poor showrunner, but I do think that maybe his jump from police procedural - a genre that doesn't involve quite as much concept art, vfx work, marketing, convention panels, set building, episodic storytelling, and keeping in touch with expanded universe producers - to flagship science fiction adventure show may have contributed to some of these issues, especially when he was already in the mindset that things could be changed on a whim (perhaps not such a major issue when it's broadchurch and no new sets need be built)

(source) Basically I don't really think this is "the showrunner's fault" or anything; more that a perfect storm of a showrunner who was habitually late on scripts, used to writing lowkey cop dramas, covid, an entirely serialized season, etc. may have led to these issues

[xyywrites]

What to Do When the Middle Sags

Ah, the dreaded sagging middle—the place where your story feels like it’s running in circles, or worse, standing still. Many writers hit this wall, but don’t worry—it’s fixable. The middle of your story is the heart of the journey, the place where characters face challenges that set the stage for the climax. If your middle is losing momentum, here are some practical tips (with examples) to reignite the spark.

1. Introduce a Midpoint Twist

Give your plot a jolt by throwing in an unexpected twist that shakes up the status quo.

Example: In The Hunger Games, the announcement that two tributes from the same district can win together completely shifts Katniss's strategy and amps up the stakes.

Tip: The twist doesn’t have to be massive—just something that complicates your characters’ goals and forces them to adapt.

2. Add a Subplot That Intertwines with the Main Plot

Introduce a secondary conflict that deepens the stakes or explores a new side of your characters.

Example: In Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet's subplot involving Wickham creates tension and provides insight into Darcy’s character.

Tip: Make sure the subplot supports the main narrative. It should enhance the story, not distract from it.

3. Escalate the Stakes

If your middle feels slow, it might be because the stakes aren’t high enough. Raise the pressure on your characters.

Example: In The Martian, Mark Watney’s potato crop fails, leaving him with limited food supplies and no margin for error.

Tip: Ask yourself: “What’s the worst thing that could happen to my character right now?” Then let it happen.

4. Deepen Character Relationships

The middle is the perfect time to develop your characters’ dynamics—friendships, rivalries, alliances, or betrayals.

Example: In Stranger Things (Season 1), the kids’ bond with Eleven deepens in the middle episodes, revealing her vulnerabilities and cementing their loyalty to her.

Tip: Focus on moments of vulnerability or conflict that reveal something new about your characters.

5. Introduce a Ticking Clock

Deadlines and time limits add urgency to your story.

Example: In Inception, the middle accelerates when the characters face layers of time running out in the dreamscape.

Tip: The ticking clock doesn’t have to be literal. It can be a metaphorical deadline, like a relationship on the brink of collapse.

6. Force Your Protagonist to Make a Hard Choice

A moral dilemma or a tough decision can reignite tension.

Example: In The Dark Knight, Batman must choose between saving Rachel or Harvey Dent, pushing him into emotional and ethical turmoil.

Tip: Hard choices show growth—or cracks—in your protagonist’s resolve.

7. Change the Setting

A fresh environment can provide new challenges and visual interest for the reader.

Example: In The Fellowship of the Ring, the group moves from Rivendell to the treacherous Mines of Moria, increasing tension and danger.

Tip: Make the new setting more dangerous or unpredictable than the last.

8. Reveal New Information

Introduce a secret, revelation, or piece of backstory that changes the reader’s understanding of the plot or characters.

Example: In The Sixth Sense, the middle is packed with hints and reveals that slowly unravel the truth about Malcolm and Cole.

Tip: This new information should connect to the story’s core themes and drive the plot forward.

9. Focus on Internal Conflict

If the external action slows, delve deeper into your protagonist’s internal struggles.

Example: In The Catcher in the Rye, much of the middle is Holden’s internal conflict about growing up and his isolation.

Tip: Use internal conflict to build empathy for your character or highlight their flaws.

10. Foreshadow the Climax

Use the middle to set up elements that will pay off later in the story.

Example: In Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Harry’s discovery of the Pensieve and his interactions with Barty Crouch Sr. foreshadow the climax involving Voldemort’s return.

Tip: Plant seeds that will leave readers saying, “Oh, so that’s why that happened!”

Checklist for Avoiding a Sagging Middle:

Does every scene push the story forward or develop a character?

Are there unanswered questions keeping the reader hooked?

Have you raised the stakes since the beginning?

[east-polaris]

I’m reading the script for the Wicked movie (which you can also read here if you scroll down!) and believe me I am so in love with the movie as is but some of the stuff we could have gotten?? Anyways I’ve compiled some of the new (old?) info, scenes, and changes in case you don't want to read the whole thing

‼️SPOILERS FOR WICKED PART ONE AND TWO‼️

In the intro, we were supposed to see Dorothy and co leaving Kiamo Ko with the broomstick

Glinda gets interrupted like she does in the Broadway version ("how dead is she?")

Different bullying scene witht he munchkin kids

they throw rocks at her??

Galinda meeting Pfannee and Shenshen

Elphaba and Nessa are both in their 20s

Morrible canonically has great shoes

No one lets Elphaba sit with them :(

Elphaba's vision in Something Bad is a black and white barn, presumably in our world, which is GENIUS. Elphaba is so powerful because she's a child of both worlds, and in The Wizard of Oz, our world is in black and white

We get a name for Fiyero's horse- Feldspur

A montage of everyone learning about Fiyero's arrival, including Boq riding an Ozian bicycle which i would have loved to see, considering the bikes in the movie are disappointingly normal

A lot of moments with Nessa being infatuated with Boq before he asks her out

A whole subplot with Aravic (a character from the books) being in love with Nessa

We get way more info about what the animals are going through. They need permits to speak, and when dr Dillamond went to a cafe he was shown to the “non speaking section”. The animal teachers have separate quarters that are small and rundown

Fiyero immediately adopts Boq as his best friend

Like Fiyero sing the beginning of Dancing through life to Boq specifically

Boq offers his hankerchief to Galinda instead of forcing her to take it and she accepts it

basically they did my guy Boq right in this script and I'm sad it didn't entirely translate to screen because I love him

Galinda redirects Boq to Nessa because she doesn't want to hurt his feelings

A turtle guards the door to the Ozdust. Fiyero bribes him to get in and Morrible just intimidates him by glaring

we were supposed to get the punch line :(

They are all drunk at the Ozdust

Students are actually worried when they see their teacher at the illegal nightclub they're all at instead of not caring

Elphaba, Galinda, Fiyero, Boq, and Nessa all dance together

The montage after popular is phenomenal and I'm so sad that they cut it, I'm going to make a whole separate post about it because I have a lot of feelings

Galinda genuinely thinks Elphaba is beautiful

HUGE Fiyero Scarecrow reference (We could go this way? Or that way?)

The flying contraption that the Wizard sends says Omaha State Fair on the side

Morrible can only do weather magic

There was a tiny Wizard and I reprise

Dulcibear comes to see Elphaba off to the Emerald City

Boq confronts Galinda about leading him on

Elphaba and Boq have a conversation about romantic feelings and I want to see it so bad

Wiz-o-mania was going to be a theme park ride

Dr Dillamond's glasses are in Elphaba's pocket when she meets the Wizard

Tiny Sentimental Man reprise

They don't crash the balloon, just use it to get to the attic space

Fiyero turns away from Boq and rides away on his horse during Defying Gravity

TLDR: It's largely the same movie, but some major changes were made and I need a director's cut STAT

[invested-in-your-future]

What's fascinating to me is that for a show where showrunners knew they had only one season left to wrap everything up, Arcane S2 feels filled with weird decisions.

EP7 as appreciated as it was, feels like a weird bottle episode that doesn't do much of anything for the overall story. It's the type of episode I could see in a longer show where it wasn't its final season, but here? Weird.

What does the detour with Vander and bringing him back add to the story exactly? It wasn't used to give Vi development or drama, nor was it used for Jinx. Sure, you could say it was something done to quickly resolve the sisters' feud, but that was already in the works naturally, and there was no need for an entire subplot that dumps a TON of new worldbuilding upon the show that has barely any time left to handle the worldbuilding it already got.

You'd think the final season would have key characters, like Vi, play the pivotal role and develop and grow, but Vi is sidelined for most of the show, despite her characterization being crucial in landing the conclusion of the two sisters subplot.

Caitlyn's classist dictator time feels like literal padding too—there's no follow-up or subplot where Vi has to make her see the reality of her actions or any subplot or characterization where the two reconcile. This subplot would make sense in a show where the class conflict and the possible civil war were front-and-center plot threads, but Arcane S2 is not that show—it refuses to touch upon the core themes Season One established. In fact, the show ends up completely ignoring what she did, so why is the plotline there then?

There are just a lot of additions that do the opposite of resolving plot threads or giving the time needed for the conclusion—everything to do with Noxous, the nigh incomprehensible Black Rose stuff, all the new side characters that appear and then disappear having done nothing, etc. You'd think for THE finale of their story, the writers would condense and connect the plot threads together toward the conclusion, but S2 spends a lot of time doing the opposite for no reason.

The final stretch has Silco basically speaking to the audience, telling them nothing new and just rehashing what's already been shown. What was the point of that? Is it insecurity from the writers that the audience might not have gotten what was being said? And what's more, how does that connect to the whole "main story" of S2 which is the machine god stuff? The monologue, as anvilicious and needless as it is, makes sense in a show about the cycle of violence and human nature, but Arcane Season Two is not that show—it's a show about how The Rich and The Poor will team-up for the common purpose of facing outside enemies, be it the non-descript Evil Country From Afar or Magical Zombies. So why were the writing staff so desperate to get the point "Silco" makes across as to literally break even the basic sense of show-not-tell?

The more I think, the weirder the structure of S2 is.

[theweeklydiscourse]

My trouble with Kataang is that the development of their romantic subplot is totally Aang-centric. Before you say: “Well duh, he’s the main character” consider that a good romance needs to involve both sides of the relationship and ideally delve into both of their respective feelings for one another. Katara’s perspective is almost entirely absent from the development of Kataang, save for a few vague musings and a blush here and there. What, romantically speaking, attracts her to Aang? When did she first realize her feelings for him? How does she balance those feelings with their chaotic situation?

I can only guess the answers to these questions because the show provides us with very little concrete evidence that could help us understand Kataang. On the opposite end, we can absolutely pinpoint Aang’s feelings for Katara and track how they shifted over the course of the show. His feelings for Katara are loud and narratively relevant, but the same can’t be said for Katara. Her side of the relationship is ignored until the very last moment.

[saveahorserideaneddie]

(popping back for 0.2 seconds to give my thoughts on the episode- this is a long post so buckle up lmao but i promise it’s not crashing out or raging i tried to be as calm and collected as i could)

I’m going to confess something:

If a main character had to die on the show… Bobby would have been my choice.

Now before you run to my replies to get upset and accuse me of hating Bobby- let me clarify that that doesn’t mean I WANTED him to actually die…

But

If it needed to be done (it didn’t but walk with me) I understand the choice to have it be Bobby. I won’t spend too much time going into why I feel that way or what my intricate thoughts and feelings are on why he would be my choice, but instead I am going to spend time explaining why I am angry about his death.

To put it simply: It reads as cheap shock value.

It feels like Tim wanted an excuse to shake things up, and he dove off the deep end to do so without stopping and really thinking about what it would mean to the show and to the fans. Like I said, I think MCD’s are completely unnecessary in this universe and trying to throw one in now (regardless of who) only risks losing audience members who A) feel connected to that character and lose interest now that they are gone, and B) lose the assurance and comfort knowing that at the end of the day, these characters will get through what happens. That was the charm of this show, that no matter how much they go through, they will always come out on top in the end. That is no longer a reality here, and it’s a decision that- unless somehow reversed within the next two episodes (which is very unlikely)- will only negatively impact a show that was consistently climbing in terms of ratings and numbers, and didn’t need a shakeup to maintain interest.

It all feels unnecessary and out of nowhere- a sentiment that could provide a unique and interesting opportunity to explore those feelings within the show.

That, unfortunately, is not the case with ep 16. From start to finish, there was an emotional pall over the entire episode, but that feeling of grief was left underutilized within the context of the episode, all because Tim Minear felt the need to once again dedicate an entire episode to a side plot that didn’t even provide any real substance to the overarching story. We see Athena and Chimney both struggling to cope with their grief, but the rest of the main cast merely feel like background actors in their own lives.

For Hen and Buck it feels like they’re both just having a crappy day (at the most) and nothing more. Eddie (who was blatantly ignored by the show since the beginning of this arc) is once again cast to the side, his grief and emotion being boiled down to a handful of throwaway lines that don’t even begin to signal what the relationship between him and Bobby had been for years. Ravi- who for once had finally started being treated like a member of a team he had been with for years- is now back to being an afterthought; his grief and emotions barely making an appearance beyond the end of ep 15.

The potential to showcase the 118 grieving as a whole was completely bypassed by the direction Minear decided to take the episode. We could have explored Eddie’s complex feelings for not having been there, and the guilt he feels for that. We could have explored Hen losing the only captain who ever really believed in her when everyone else had no expectations of her success (especially with Gerrard being back). We could have expanded on Buck’s seeming stoicism and how he might be repressing and bottling up his emotions (something that wasn’t even really hinted at). We could have seen Ravi feeling isolated as the person who had known Bobby the least amount of time out of the whole team.

All of this could have been done as a subplot to Athena going through the process of grieving and moving on- something that would have made the ending all the more poignant, and would have been a fitting end both for Bobby as a character, and for the three episode arc that focused on the 118 as a family.

But instead, we got a flashback to a call we’ve never heard mentioned before, but supposedly had some major impact on Bobby meaning Athena spent the entire episode just ignoring her grief (in a way that didn’t even bother to explore the complexities of the denial stage of grief- it legitimately was as if this were just another case until the end). And on top of that, we have been taken all the way back to where we began the season:

Bobby’s gone, Gerrard’s back, Eddie’s storyline is at a standstill- (buck and tommy are potentially rekindling their relationship?)

We are quite literally back to where the season started, so I beg the question- What was the point of it all. Aside from a few minor outliers, there has been almost zero character development in the main cast so far, and we only have two episodes left to actually do something that would make this season not feel like a colossal waste of time.

And when you pair that with the fact that next episode seemingly is once again pushing Eddie to the side (like eps 14-16) and creating another random non-issue plot for Hen (like ep 13), I wonder if we will actually be anywhere different by the end of the season, or if they are simply going to just cram another random shock value twist in out of nowhere.

All that said, we can only wait and see what happens, but for now we are stuck with an episode that not only confirmed that Tim Minear is tone deaf to his audience, but also did not give Bobby/Peter’s farewell to the past 8 years the respect and reverence it deserves, and to me that is almost worse than Bobby actually being dead.

And with that, I am returning to my mental health hiatus- I will most likely be back by the start of the summer hiatus depending on how things are going for me irl (rehearsals are in full swing, im in the middle of a job search, and i am about to start flight attendant training ive been BUSY 🙃🫠), but i just wanted to give my thoughts on this ep 💕💕

love you all, please drink some water, eat something, and take care of yourselves- this all sucks but at the end of the day it’s just a show and isn’t worth making yourself sick over <3

[phoenixkaptain]

Really all three of the Sonic movies are a masterclass in making films geared towards fans while still creating new stories, but Sonic 3 especially because like. They listened! The fans said “we don’t like all these human parts” and the movie went “alright” and there are almost no scenes starring solely the human characters. Even in scenes prominently featuring them, Sonic and friends either show up (making the scene no longer solely focused on humans) or they’re focused in some way on what Sonic’s doing. Like damn man, they really… Listened? And accepted the criticism they received?? And improved??? And they even technically made the wedding subplot in 2 relevent to the plot????

I really liked the movie! Part of that is my fondness for Shadow, who I will never ever get over being the saddest little ultimate lifeform in the whole world. And movie Shadow really ticks all the boxes, I mean- the way he talks so stiltedly? The way he skates? The way he teleports? The fact that he doesn’t even initiate the majority of fights? The fluffiest little ultimate lifeform in ever, truly, 2024/10 for the year of Shadow-

I like this Shadow. The opening scene of him escaping is just beautiful. Him being all drenched filled me with an urge to blowdry him so he could puff up like a lil angry cat. He’s so legitimately awkward and confused watching the Eggmans that I watched his expression more than what either Robotnik was doing. He looks so confused! He’s over there like “somehow, the human has grown weirder with age… and here I thought humans were supposed to grow wiser…”

Also Maria’s face when Shadow gets sad because the movie they’re watching is called “Alien Freak” or whatever??? Beautiful, amazing, outstanding, give this lady an Oscar.

Sonic’s relationship with Shadow throughout the movie is so fun to watch progress. He just canNOT stand this guy!!! This new hedgehog who has definitely been around longer than him!!! Let Sonic be angy, it is so cute.

Tails and Knuckles are also very cute, though they feel a lot more sidelined. Which, I mean, literally every single character aside from Sonic, Shadow, and Robotnik have no character arc. And that’s fine! That’s good, even! Side characters don’t need to be focused on so intently! It only feels strange because Sonic 2 was so different in where it focused, but it isn’t a bad thing! Do I wish there was more Tails? Always. Do I think Knuckles was great just because he could have punched through the barrier really at any moment? Absolutely. I think the characters fit their roles in the movie very well.

All in all, I like Shadow. He is the saddest little ultimate hedgehog lifeform in the history of ever. He isn’t even all that angry for most of the movie. He’s just sad and lost and hopeless and it’s very depressing! Guy really tried to taunt his way into being killed, and I just think him trying to irritate Sonic into committing murder is funny, especially since it very nearly worked. Also, the scenes of Shadow jumpscaring everyone makes me assume that he has been jumpscaring people for years, which causes me to imagine that there were many occasions of GUN agents finding a Shadow where there was not a Shadow five seconds before. When did he get into the cupboard? How long has he been standing behind that door? Can we put a bell on the hedgehog, please, this is getting out of hand!

In my imagined future Shadow series where Shadow becomes friends with Sonic and pals, Maddie makes him wear a little bell so he stops giving everyone heart attacks. He still manages to give everyone heart attacks. I like to think they will occasionally wake up to find him standing at the foot of the bed ominously. Shadow is a eldritch cat monster, I’m pretty sure that was made canon-

Anyway. TLDR: 10/10 movie. The creators listened to the criticism they received on the second movie and made changes. Shadow was perfect. Sonic being taken off guard by Shadow will never not be funny, nor will their banter grow old. The dog has subtitles and I can only assume it’s because Knuckles and only Knuckles can understand him. Stone’s love was reciprocated in the very end. And yeah, I’m with the menacing hedgehog, Gabriella should have just killed Juan and Pablo both and been done with it.

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

68 -The Winterfell Sept

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

Length: 19k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, political tensions, past character death, references to breastfeeding, smut, p in v, slight exhibitionism kink, possessive behavior and tendencies

Notes: We have some political subplots brewing, so have patience as we start to explore a lot of that once more now that the chaos has settled. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The claim that she was not trying to cause such issues felt a bit on deaf ears, and as well, a mute response. Forcing her to find another way to elaborate on the manner. Pushing from where she sat, Sansa begun to pace along the shorter length of the room which you both sat in, the knowing between you both that much of this discussion would rely on her ability to listen and understand, but so far it seemed she struggled with it.

It almost had been doing well. The arguing had lessened, she and her sister were getting along much easier and yet it was as if she had flipped. A part of her brain sparked alive and now found herself with the same problems that had no solution which was coming from her. There was no solution, but she tried anyways as if it was going to change anything.

But turning somewhat back to you, she tried to elaborate on her failing points. “If you and Robb had an heir, then Jon wouldn’t even been King in the first place.” For a moment her eyes widened a little, the thought that by bringing it up she may have crossed a boundary. She did, but this was not the time nor setting in which to elaborate on that. Already getting one lecture she did not need guilt added atop it as you sighed deeply.

“If my son had lived, Jon still would be in the exact same position as he is now.”

Her brows furrowed, you tilted your head to the side just slightly in elaboration. “Before King Robert passed, he had named your father to rule as Regent until his rightful heir came of age. He didn’t want to rush his son into ruling until he was properly a man.” Her eyes narrowed in the question of what you were getting at. “If neither Robb nor his son lived, Jon was to rule as his heir. If his son had lived, Robb had still named Jon to rule as Regent until his son came of age. Meaning, we would’ve been in this exact same scenario right now. Robert dying did not suddenly make Stannis or Renly the Regent, he named your father. As Robb named Jon.”

You could see in her eyes the struggle to come to an acceptance, as if she understood the words but did not yet grasp what they meant, or simply she did not wish too. For the woman she had returned as, Sansa still stood there looking much like a girl not getting what she wanted and not understanding why she could not simply have or take it.

“But things are different now.”

Sighing lightly, you glanced over at the slumbering bundle nearby. He wasn’t even what she was referring too, but it was true all the same. Finding her eyes once more, you nodded only once, leaning your forearms against the wooden surface in front of you, the temptation to fidget your fingertips about with one another having to be swallowed down. “What would you like me to do, Sansa? I was there when Robb decided this, I supported it. And now you stand there hoping I will go against what were his final wishes and what? Take away everything Jon has earned and accomplished? Tell him that he was a placeholder until someone with a true Stark name came along as if everything he’s dealt with since becoming King hasn’t revolved around that very fact?”

A lightness of doubt, or perhaps guilt came into Sansa’s eyes and her plead was far less of a petulant whine then before. “That wasn’t what I meant for this to be about-”

Cutting her off, you pushed from the seat. “That is what all of this is about.” Circling around, you now leaned against the front of the desk, hands braced behind you on either side of the edge. “If Jon wasn’t a bastard, or if he had taken the Stark name when he became King, would we be having this discussion? Would you be questioning his right were he calling himself Stark?” She did not have an answer right away, but you did not need her to vocalize it.

You had seen it all her life. In part, for some of her years if was not Sansa’s fault. Not truly. Much more like her mother then her other siblings, too did Sansa learn from her how to feel about Jon. Catelyn’s reasons for looking down on him were complicated as they were simple. You sat with her, listening to the true weight and shame and heavy hearted guilt as she confessed that she failed at her promise. She promised to the gods to let him live through his bout of the pox, and when he did, she could not keep it. That she blamed herself for the horrors upon her family, because it was a punishment for being unable to keep her promise.

It was not an excuse, but something you felt for regardless. She did not chose to not be a mother to Jon, she simply never had it in her. She looked down to a baby boy who was not hers, and could not love him and she allowed that shame and guilt turn into regret into frustration into something resentful and despising which never went away. It was not that Jon was a bastard that she hated, it was that a bastard of her husbands, was brought to be raised amongst her own children. An affront to her perfect family, and as a Tully, their words were Family, Duty, Honour. Family came first, and she resented that Jon was raised amongst hers when he wasn’t from her. It was simple what the issue was, but it was complicated to the woman herself, and while you would never defend it, you understood and even sympathized with it.

Catelyn was put in an impossible situation, and just maybe, she did the best she could. Even if her best was resentful, full of spite and neglect, it was her best. Sansa however, learned without the feeling. She learned to look down on Jon, but without the complexities of motherhood, her views were simple. Jon was lesser then, because he was a bastard. Catelyn’s issue with Jon had nothing to do with him being a bastard, but Sansa only took that aspect of it as the truth to follow.

Looking away slightly you detected a tick in her jaw. Whatever it was she wished to say, wisely, she kept it to herself. Voice soft and a bit distant, perhaps you thought, Catelyns strategy may work. A painful honesty to put something into perspective, if not for now, but maybe eventually. “Before we got married, Jon and I, he tried to persuade me to not take his name.” Sansa turned somewhat to look at you with a furrowed brow as you continued. “He said there was no honour in it, and going from one powerful name to another shouldn’t be followed by taking a bastard name for his sake. That he didn’t want to force my children to take his name.”

Pointing out the obvious, Sansa seemed to say it with a sense of understanding as if prompting you to continue before she made any wordful judgments or conclusions. “But you did take it.”

You nodded once. “I did. I didn’t hesitate to take his name either. It didn’t matter to me when I first met him, why would it matter now? Does being a Snow change anything he’s done? Make what he’s accomplished somehow less of importance?” Sansa’s answer was no, but you filled in the gaps for her with a hope you had decreased the sternness which often came out in frustration of the subject matter. “When Arya came home, she could’ve made a claim but she didn’t. Bran could make one now, but he won’t. Maybe you need to ask yourself, Sansa. Why you? Why are you the only one pushing him about this?”

Opening and closing her mouth, you knew that was a struggle she’d have to face alone. Her defence came out weak, as if she could predict that you already had an answer against it. “Robb decided that when he thought Jon was the only one left. When I was still married to a Lannister.”

Raising a brow, you caught her before she had a chance to begun her next sentence with an air of doubt in your voice. “Was? Married as in past tense?” Trying to speak, you cut her off the moment she even started saying his name. “Tyrion fled King Landing just like you did. You fleeing and not being found didn’t make you both no longer married, and Tyrion doing the same also would not break that. You’re still a Lannister by marriage, Sansa. You do understand why Robb chose this in the first place?”

A silent stammer came from her. “To keep the North in the Starks hands.”

“To keep the North safe from our enemies.” Ideas of similar nature, but born from different points of origin. “He didn’t want to hurt you by doing this, but he did what needed to be done. We can’t change the circumstances that led to why he did it.”

Sansa’s next words were interesting to say the least. An odd choice of how to approach it considering the nature of the previous years she would’ve experienced. “What one King decides can change with the new one.”

Your head tilted with narrowing eyes, looking at her close with the slightly nerves in the way she swallowed right after saying it. Or, what she was not saying, which was nearly more then anything spoken in the air. The unspoken said as much and you picked it up right away. “I want you to think carefully about what you are attempting to say, Sansa. Going against the word of a King after he’s gone is one issue, but you do know what you are suggesting?”

Pushing from the desk you came before her, hands coming to rest against her upper arms as it fought within her eyes, the guilt against the greed and you knew it was not here and now one would win out.

Your voice now much more tender, again you chose the raw honest. “This isn’t about what we want or what we chose. I never asked to be a Queen, but I am. And that responsibility is mine alone to come to terms with. It is the same here. What’s done is done, and the longer it takes you to accept that, the harder it’s going to be on all of us. Putting that divide between us now is just one more thing we cannot have, we need each other. And I can tell you first hand, having your family split apart on purpose like that when you need each other the most? Is more devastating then you understand.”

She had to come to terms with it herself. Jon had told you what was said when she approached him the other night, but you affirmed you’d speak to her. She needed to hear it from you, from someone who was there when it was decided. The more rows she went with Jon about it the more angry both would get, and it had to stop now.

Leaving her there to think, you had scooped up little Eddard and made your way. The corridors much more busy and working at this time, did the two guards waiting passively for you seem to become one. One, and another taller figure now jesting and teasing before the first you recognized catch your curious eye. “My Queen, apologies I-”

A small smile with a shake of your head acted as hand wave dismissal of what he was going to say. “Nothing of the sort needed. I presume this one had you distracted?” The smirk came easy and familiar with a sigh much more noticeable towards him. “And I presume you sent off the other because...” Stretching the finals of your words to allow him to fill in the blanks.

Standing up straighter from where he had leaned against a pillar behind him, Allard Seaworth gave you that look you knew all too well from so many years ago. “I also tried to convince both I could handle it, but it seems two guards at all times is your Kings orders.” You did not at all acknowledge the glint of tease in his eye or what he wished to truly say. “Did you think I came all this way to see your royal self, and then leave? I have a duty, your grace.”

A glance with a not so well hidden amusement looked to the other guard who with a now much more casual stance shrugged one shoulder as if to indicate he had no issue with it. A sigh came from you, looking down to the sleepy son in your arms with a mutter just loud enough for Allard to purposely hear. “Why do I have the distinct feeling I’m going to regret this?”

Sure enough, it was as if you were a younger girl. Wandering the halls of Dragonstone or the gardens of the Red Keep. Accompanied more then not, but Allard was never one to take issue with using that time to find things to say. He was all you had once. Long since a man when he came into your personal service, but no friends of your own on the grim island, some days he was the only one you could say things to without a filter. It didn’t happen often at first, but more and more as he opened up to you, did you grow the same.

Keeping you safe but also for many of your early years, simply he was there to keep you company. A lonely, quiet little girl with no one to talk to did your father assign Allard knowing that perhaps giving you silence was not effective on your personal growth. Now you were used to it with Theon, he had no qualms speaking to you back and forth like normal but to have it from another was almost odd again. As if now your old life was colliding with your new one but in strange ways that you did not know yet if they blended.

“If I may ask,” You resisted the jesting urge to simply tell Allard that you knew he’d ask it anyways. “Is there a reason you seem to wish to keep an event this urgent from your father?” Nearly stopping and turning in place, you narrowly caught his side profile with a glare that had him continue with more of an explanation then you wanted. “It’s whispered amongst Winter Town, or it was by last night and yet I know for a fact it has not been brought to your fathers attention.”

Lowly did you mutter, “And why does he need to be told?”

Allard spoke to you much like Theon did, as if you were slow. Only he did not hide such an attitude until in private, he was a man quite comfortable saying things in specific ways unfiltered. “Because he could help? Because he should know his daughters life is in jeopardy?” You refuted the second fact, stating that the would be assassins were dead but an unsettled feeling came about as his tone dropped more serious. “And if more come?”

Your eyes drifted back again to him, narrowing as your heart beat increased just enough to make the sensation a tad uncomfortable. “The first ones failed, why would more try?” Allard grimaced to himself before looking forward, only causing you to grow wider eyed. “What?”

His answer had not helped your heart. “I’m not so sure I should say it with so many ears around, your grace.” Narrowly catching his glance, something serious lay in the heart of it. “That was why I sought you out in the first place. In light of the previous nights events, there are things yourself and the King need to know about.” Asking what in particular, again you held no comfort in the answer. “You.”

Too much in your thoughts on one hand, and frustrations in the other did the sight approaching have also more then one feeling attached. First in your view, Theon came more your way asking where the other guard was only to interrupt himself, nodding towards Allard. “Who are you?”

Wasting no time, he held a hand out, Theon firmly returning the shake. “Allard Seaworth. I was the Queen’s old guard back when she was still only a Lady.”

An ease came over Theon right away, no doubt the aggravating thought to you, that at least your company consisted of those watching over you. Never escaping that it felt. “Theon Greyjoy. I’m her new guard.” It took only seconds to play out.

The dashing of eyes towards you narrowed with that instant flash on alert, as you narrowed yours to not bring such things up this way. Certainly not out in the corridors with anyone walking about did you wish that subject to be addressed. Behaving himself instead, he turned his gaze back squarely to Theon as he crossed his arms over his chest in what no doubt he hoped was not in a way of showing a shift in potential aggression. “Good, I have the right man to speak to then.”

Inhaling deeply, you suddenly felt the great need to abandon this first sight for the second. In no interest did you hold to hear the two of them discuss how much more tight and overbearing the guards watching over you were about to become between the two of them. Muttering in a quieter tone, hoping they all caught it. “If you excuse me gentleman.”

Theon shouted down to you before getting too far, “If you wanted to escape us, you could do better then that.”

Oh were the two men going to get along frustratingly well you could feel. But you did not look back, “I only need guard as long as I’m not with Jon. His orders, not mine.”

The frustration only rose as you walked off. Adjusting little Eddard in your arms, the morning full of things to pick at your nerves and it all kept stemming from sources of issues that had no right in mattering. Your father, Sansa, the assassins, the guard, Theon and Allard about to make your life even more overbearingly watched over then Jon had demanded but would have no argument against. None of this mattered and yet everything made it want to matter.

Looking back down, the only feeling giving you any ease was the more slumbering dozing eyes of your son in your arms, now having wormed his way in the blanket holding him in your arms, facing you more in lieu of snuggling close. “At least one of you is making this easy.” He made no response, and it only made you wish to smile more. Proving your point exactly, the only source of ease was somehow a newborn in need of everything and anything at any time. Little Eddard was still well behaved, comforting, his need for you matching the peace being needed by him brought to you, and only one thing now could even that out or better, outmatch it.

Stepping onto the landing, your feet were much more quiet against the wood as you walked along to the overlook. The fur around his shoulders making him look warm already, but a rare sight of his curls loose and draped around him as if helping to shield cold which did not effect him. Gloved hands perched against the railing, Jon watched the training yards below as if to ensure no one was missing, slacking, or toying around when this was all done for their survival. Every one ten and over would be trained and he did not joke or put off the matter.

Jon took the safety such training would bring everyone seriously, as did his men and Lords down there as well being guides well suited to the matter. Almost feeling guilty to interrupt such an important duty to oversee, but you heard the rasp just loud enough only you could hear him. Head turned just slightly for your notice that he was speaking indeed to you. “Are you going to keep hiding back there?”

The smile on you, matched him not that you even could see yet. A brightness in his eyes and smirk as clearly your silent footsteps were no longer silent to a wolf with such keen ears. Coming up to his side, Jon spared no time opening an arm to wrap around you, pulling you by your shoulder to press warm in his side as he let it then slide down to rest at your hip. Grey eyes looking over, you turned somewhat to lean into his warmth which made the brightness and smile grow wider.

Down for now you kept your gaze to the training below. “How is it all going?”

Hand now running shortly up and down your hip and waist, Jon finally turned to match your gaze. “Better then I hoped. They’re learning fast.” A more quiet mutter from you that most Northerners learned fast, Jon grinned slightly. “What does that mean?”

You carefully shrugged the shoulder not pressed more by his side, your head fighting the temptation to seek out resting down against him while in such public view. “You are all well suited for combat, as strange as it may sound. Most Northerners I’ve met picked up on sword fighting, lance, bow and arrow all easier then many boys I saw growing up in the South.”

Jon spoke low, more of a mumble but gentle. “We have to be. The North isn’t an easy place to live. When winter comes, the end or not, we have to be ready. We have to know how to take care of each other, protect the ones we love. Because most of the time, no one else will.” Biting down on your tongue, you found no words to even slip out. It wasn’t an untrue statement. The North was forgotten about, and yet they were the ones always to survive Winter.

Seen as superstitious and stern and cold, but yet that harshness was within their blood over generations and generations. Something imprinted within each and every one to be prepared to survive what few could. How far back that went though, you had an idea, with a lurching fear being swallowed back down along with whatever imagery may accompany if it lingered too long. A small mutter. “I suppose I’m lucky I have you.”

Jon only smirked, glancing now much more obviously towards you, but not yet sacrificing keeping you tucked away in his warmth. “You survived beyond the Wall carrying our son. You’ve already proven yourself.” He was quiet for only a moment or two, and you knew right away what it was his eyes caught sight of.

Short and tall they were hard to mistaken when standing next to one another did Arya and Sansa speak quietly about something tucked away more in a corner as they not so discreetly would direct their eyes up towards the landing you and Jon stood on. His hand on your hip tightened slightly, asking in a now much more low mutter how it went.

Inhaling deeply, you considered the appropriate words. “Difficult to say. I was honest, laid everything out for her and why. But to come to terms with it? It’s only up to her now. In the time between Littlefinger telling her the crown was hers, and her realizing it wasn’t true, I think she got attached to the idea more then she expected.”

Jon however, had a different interpretation that he knew you did not say. “Or she’s upset that it’s me in general.” Biting down on your tongue, you felt the masked hurt he didn’t want to come out that still it persisted in his life, what he was. “If Bran were King in the North she wouldn’t be fighting so far, she wouldn’t be fighting him over it at all.”

Looking up to him, you could see his jaw sat tense as his eyes grew darker in something teetering on anger and self loathing as you allowed either. Soft and gentle your voice was compared to his which has many layers roughing it through. “You’re still her brother. She’ll get there, Jon. I promise. She just needs time. She didn’t even know you weren’t in the Nights Watch any longer, let alone were King.”

His brows narrowed yet something more teasing came over his eyes, asking what but Jons smirk grew more. Not saying it at first, he certainly thought it over for a good many seconds until it came out in an exhale and tinged with a teasing. “Did Robb ever get used to hearing you call him a King?”

No doubt, Jon was expecting a teasing or playful response. But your stiffening up was not uncomfortable, but a flush was felt crawling up your throat threatening to expose itself. Prompting you with your name, you muttered out a quiet yet restrained, “Eventually.”

Turning to face you more did he ask, “What does eventually mean?” You tried to shrug and turn away but he had the advantage, you had the baby and he didn’t. He could turn you to face him all he liked with his strength. His hands now holding at your waist and the other your arm just above your elbow. “It’s was a yes or no question.”

Muttering out, no longer meeting his eyes you felt the flush cover your skin nearing his sight. “Yes, alright. He got used to it.” Asking in what way, your heart skipped a beat. He had you trapped. Leaning more towards your head, he asked again. Still not meeting his eyes, Jons grin grew watching you fumble your way through what he would not let you escape from answering. “In normal ways.”

Jon though was on a new path. He had you flustered in his grasp and no one around on the same level as you both to interrupt, and with the baby you could not find an excuse to quickly flea his grasp. His grin was insufferably teasing now, his rasp turning into a husking manner to entice you in your blood. “In front of his men?” Muttering a yes, you still did not look at him. “During meetings with the other Lords and Ladies?” Another yes, but Jons grin was bright as the winter snow laid against the ground as he leaned enough into your space that you could begin feeling traces of his breath dance across your cheek. Letting the words linger as he said them, your eyes wide giving it away how right he was. “And you called him that when he had you in his bed, didn’t you?”

Spoken in an accusatory and judgmental manner but with a teasing that was there to trap you on purpose and never did you learn the skills to escape when Jon was the one who set it. He was an expert when it came to you. Mumbling as you looked down to your son, but with the embarrassment inside your chest that his young presence would not be enough to deter your white wolf. “Once or twice...”

Inhaling through his nose, Jons eyes narrowed before he stood back up straight. The hand on your waist holding tight as he now freely let the one on your arm drift down to the baby. Running gentle as ever over the top of his head, gloved thumb running over his tiny cheek as his rasp was little more then a mumble for you only. Eyes still both down on the son you created together when he sent another arrow right into something deeply humiliated at being forced to discuss this, especially out in the open air. “Did you like it? Calling him your King when he was inside you?”

Were you to be walked in upon now, the stammer in you would’ve been unmistakable. But you should’ve known your small nod would not be enough for Jon. Prompting you to say it outloud, that the baby didn’t understand any of this yet. “Why does any of this matter.”

Both hands Jon let sit at your waist, but the answer spoken low and teasing were not matched by the genuinity of their contents. “I wasn’t there for any of it. I only saw glimpses of you two, but never..” Cutting himself off, he shook his head to himself as the tone dropped the tease entirely. “As a boy, I used to wonder what kind of girl Robb would marry. Girls all loved him, ever since we were old enough to understand girls were different, they always loved him. But he was always picky about who he had feelings for, and I never could figure out what kind of girl he’d end up married too.” Uncaring of who could be watching, Jon let one hand drift up, running through the strands of your hair sitting at your front before cupping your cheek and jaw, thumb running over the skin he could reach with bright eyes. “Then he married the girl I loved, and I never saw any of it that meant anything.”

Sliding the same hand around to run down your hair massagingly at the back of your head, Jon tilted you to look up at him as he continued. “I know it’s not easy for you to talk about him, but I wasn’t there to ask him anything. I never got a chance to see how happy you both made each other, I want to know.”

“Why now?”

Jon only smiled gently, eyes flickering down to the baby sleeping in your arms. “We have a family together, what’s left for me to be jealous of?” Pointing out that he did not need to tease you so much to do so, Jon’s smile was close to a genuine laugh letting out. “Sometimes that’s the easiest way to get you to be honest. I embarrass you enough, you’ll tell me anything just to make me stop.”

Your voice was a mutter, your eyes rolling flat. “Some would constitute that as torture.”

Still his hand ran down your hair, the tease almost gone no matter your attempt to lighten the air back up to it. “If I had you tied to my bed, maybe.” Your smothering of a flustered smirk was matched by Jons handsome grin. Turning you to look back at him much more genuinely. “I’ll ask you nicely this time. Do you miss the way he was with you?”

That...that was not the same question which started this. Your lips parting slightly as your eyes looked up to his directly but the insecurity did not sit within his beautiful grey ones. Just a curiosity soaked in the love you had come to know so intimately. He wasn’t searching for a secret, he was curious, truly curious. Swallowing, both yourself and Jon were aware that you would still seek out the most diplomatic answer.

Jon simply knew how to decipher that diplomacy into a language he and you spoke all in your perfect silence with one another. “It isn’t the intimacy alone, or really that at all.” Mercifully, Jon allowed you to translate the sexual discussion into a much more situationally appropriate word. “I’ll always miss him, his voice, his touch..but it isn’t a comparison. I don’t even know if I can put you in the same category, you’re just..different. Not better or worse, just different. I know I’ll never have what I had with Robb again, and I’ll always miss it, but thats beacuse I’ll always miss him. Not because I’m searching for it in you.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, Jon let the hand run still soothingly through the strands of your hair behind you. Muttering for your ears only as he kept a firm grip on your hip. “I miss him too.” Words were not needed right away. Behind the discussions of claims and titles and crowns and heirs, it was all draped across a shadow which never left.

A shadow who was painted across the walls, down sinking to the bedchambers where Robb took you for your first time, for the only two times you slept in each others arms in what was supposed to be your home together. But not that alone, it also slunk to Theons chambers and Jons, the echos of laughter and trouble making Robb was somehow so good at getting into despite being the image of a perfect heir. It wound it’s way into the kitchens, stains in the air of how often Robb would pick up Arya or Rickon, and simply drop them elsewhere when they stood in the way of everyone working and the teasing that they could protest when they were big enough to pick him up back.

Further it reached the edges of the godswood. The strands touching the heart tree where you felt his gentle kiss as you rose before it as his wife, as a Stark. All others leaving the area at Ned’s request, holding one another with your foreheads pressed together, eyes closed in a silence because one morning came neither of you knew when you’d see each other again.

It touched down to the very training yard you and Jon stood before. How since he and Jon were old enough to hold a stick, were they outside every single day hours upon hours learning to train. Becoming warriors as good as the other, and how different yet smooth they fought. As Robbs was aggressive and harsh, a force to be reckoned with, Jon was quick and graceful and treated it like a dance. One against the other was hardly ever with a winner, but any else challenging them, be it Theon or you, they worked together with ease. Filling the weakness the other had and never overpowering the others strengths. But too it was in the studies and the main meeting hall.

Brothers both all their lives given the same education, given the same duties and roles and despite one being the trueborn heir and the other an inheritless bastard they were raised and taught to work as a team. Jon would have nothing of his own to rule in that memory of a future, but Ned Stark raised both his eldest sons to work with each other. Robb would rule one day, but it was as if Ned didn’t simply give Jon the same education to be kind. It was his plan.

The shadow of a story, a father who did not get to spend enough time with his brother before he died, raised his sons side by side as he wanted them to be for life. In his vision of the future, Robb would one day be Lord of Winterfell, but Jons place would be by his side. The role as if Hand of the King, but for whatever Robb would be, and raised to compliment the other.

The shadow was a memory of a life where until the day he turned his horse to ride North on the Kingsroad, there was never a time where that shadow of Robb Stark wasn’t at Jons side. Were Jon the only one gone for good, he would be the shadow against Robb as well. In this new life for both of you, it was hard to recall what before was like some days.

Your minds consumed with something stronger then love or even blood that binded your souls together in an unnatural manner. Some days all you or Jon could see were the other and nothing else had the right to exist, but there was indeed, a life before that. One where love between you still was there, muted and restrained and hidden, but it was there. But beyond that, there was always Robb.

Before Theon became the fourth, it was always a trio. The three of you as children nearly inseparable. Jon was your first true friend, he pried off that lock against your heart first to reveal that underneath was just a lonely girl desperate to make friends. But Robb was the one to burst those now unlocked doors wide open, and drag you away from them anytime you almost went to close them.

Your first beheading you ever saw, only eight and shy had in the moment it came off, did you by instinct grab Jons hand for comfort. But scared he was annoyed by you and how childish it was, you had wished it was Robbs hand you grabbed. Maybe he would’ve made fun of you for it later, but you weren’t afraid he hated you. Then slowly it all came together, and yet it took so much less to tear it apart.

Now though, all that was left, was the shadow on the wall. But it was not yet complete. Down in the deep depths of Winterfell did the shadow finally land in the crypts, an empty clearing where a statue of a King and his direwolf deserved to be. But it stayed there, overtaking the light inside it as it sought out to be complete. But it wasn’t. It stayed empty.

And as long as that tomb remained empty, would that shadow never leave hovering right above yourself and Jon. Neither wanted to be rid of his memory, but there was no closure. Your and Jons closure, were just remains. Scattered bones across the Riverlands lost to time. Flesh and meat picked apart by the animals and the rest sunk down into the soul but the bones remained. Some would come across them one day, and have not a clue that that belonged to the shadow of a King.

You once ended up having with Robb, what you never had a chance to with Jon. But now, you were the one to have with Jon, what you never had a chance to with Robb. A family, a son, a pack of your own making together. Of course you thought, of course Jon asked these questions.

Glimpses weren’t enough. Teasing for the information or not, Jon teased to have the story. To know your life, to know his brothers life he never got to see. Jon knew he stood in his home, but in Robbs title, his land, his people, his Kingdom, and with his wife. Jon had all what Robb once had but it was gifted to him with every want of Robbs for him to have it.

Jon had the option. Robb wanted to give Jon the choice, he could call himself Stark and no one would ever be able to doubt it’s legitimacy, but he did not force it. The brother he grew up with was a Snow, and it was a Snow he loved with all his heart. No matter what laws of the Andals said, or that of the Iron Throne forged by the corruption of the Targaryeans stated, this was the North.

And no amount of rights and claims would take away that Jon had all of this, because he deserved it. Because Jon did not come down from the Wall to fight this fight as a King, he never asked for a crown, but without ever accepting it, the North bestowed it on him anyways. The laws stated that the North were nothing but rebels who needed to once more be subjugated, but none of you took it as such anymore. Beacuse the North ruled themselves again, and Sansa had to accept it.

Robb didn’t choose a bastard, he chose his brother. He chose a Stark.

Not that either of you knew it, but standing together up on the landing, it was the eyes of two sisters who felt something of a different shadow. Arya more used to it, spoke first. “They’re just like them. Father and mother. Whenever they thought no one was looking, they’d act just like that too.”

Sansa’s jaw was clenched, but not with anger or frustration. Just guilt. Just a shame. Her voice came out as tight as her muscles felt. “No. They aren’t.” She felt Arya’s narrowed glare turning to look up at her and paid it no mind, as Sansa said your name. “She isn’t like mother. Our mother never accepted him the way father did.”

Asking in something more curious, Arya looked between you and Jon and the baby between you, and back to Sansa. “You and her were the only ones of us who ever had a problem with it, you know. No one us, me, Bran, Rickon, we never let it change anything.” Sansa said nothing, she had no defence for the truth. “So why can’t you accept it now?” Sansa wouldn’t say it outloud, but she already had the answer, and she was not at all proud of it. Sansa still couldn’t fully accept her bastard brother, because some part of her, simply didn’t want to.

“Pardon, my lord, I know we’ve met before but, it was a long time ago.”

Both sitting down across from one another, Jons gaze was narrow but in not judgment but a scrutiny as he tried to seek back in his memories alone. The fire to the side warm and blazing, on the rug before it sat Ghost, laying down with his head perked up to watch this new stranger. Jons only comfort that his direwolf wasn’t with you, was knowing that he had seen you and the baby being dragged off somewhere by Maege Mormont. Guards or not, he knew she would do as fine a job as Ghost would watching over you.

So instead, Jon sat down in the study across from Allard Seaworth. Ser Davos properly introducing them as his oldest son, and too Jon knew he was your personal guard for many years but he had never seen any Baratheon swords in Winterfell before the Kings visit.

A shrug came over his face. “No need for such titles, your grace. I’m no lord or knight. Just Allard.” Asking in a simple curiosity how long had he had been serving you, Allard sat back for a moment with a deep inhale looking all the way back in his memory. “She was about four when I came into her service. I used to squire for her father, then I had a choice, become a Knight or the household guard. Chose the later, and would up guarding his daughter and never looked back.”

Allard explained to Jon that from Dragonstone to Kings Landing he’s be by your side, and always escorted you to Winterfell but would return back to Stannis once you were settled, since there was little need for an extra guard around in those times when the Starks had their own trusted guard. “Got to know some of the others there too. Captain of your fathers guard, Jory Cassel. Good man, deserved better then the way he died.”

Jon nodded as his face twisted somewhat downward.

Allard almost laughed a little. “Sometimes I think they were telling the truth about you Northerners. If I didn’t know any better I’d wonder if any of you felt emotions ever.” A smirk couldn’t help but come out for that one. The more around southerners Jon spent in the recent years, the more he realized that especially around outsiders, Jons people did tend to let little out. Stuck guarded around those not completely comfortable with.

Bringing your name up, Jon switched gears a little. “She said there were things you wanted to tell me?”

Sitting up straighter, Allard let the aloof nature in him go a bit. A nod as he collected his thoughts, “I know you are hoping to keep it from widespread outside of Winterfell, what happened the other night. With the assassins.”

Brows narrowing, Jon leaned forward with a rougher tone coming over him. “How did you hear about that?” Once a rumour hit the smallfolk though, it seemed it had spread wide even though it had yet to and likely for not some time either would breach the walls of his Kingdom. Giving him just a bit more time figuring out what to do.

However, Allard seemed to have an idea already. “People talk, especially when it comes to highborns. But when that highborn is a Queen?” An exaggerated whistle left him. “People all over the realm love nothing more then to talk about a Queen. Especially one with a reputation as prolific as hers.”

That growl of aggression had rose its weary head within Jon. A single claw over top of the edge and slowly a wolf could make it’s way to the front. Ghost felt it too, his ears perked up and his body still as he lay against the fur as if as soon as your name ever came up they both matched one another in attention. Hoping his voice was coming off as low and rough without being demanding, did Jon prompt him. “What are people saying about her?” Clearly, Allard hesitated. Opening his mouth before closing it and turning away. “You’re not the one to blame for what others say.”

Tilting his head, the older man took a good few seconds to put the words of where to start together, before getting the most strange out of the way. “Lets say you have ten people. Each one person represents part of the entire country. If you asked all of them what they think, maybe three would say she’s lost her mind, and the other seven would tell you all about how your wife is a witch.”

Jon only repeated the word in a confusion.

Nodding, he repeated for clarity. “A witch of sorts, thats what most of them are saying. Raising men from the dead, summoning visions of the future and past. Some even say she’s using some kind of charm to bewitch you to fall in love with her, or that you’re the one setting her out on the men of your court to charm and bewitch them into accepting how much power she has a your side.”

Jaw tensing, Jon took a moment to tear his eyes over to the fire flickering about. You had that power beside Jon because he wanted you to have it, and you certainly weren’t manipulating a single soul to do so. It wasn’t the important aspect and he would not say it aloud here, but too was it a ridiculous claim to say that Jon had to be put under some sort of curse or spell to fall in love with you.

If that were all though, he would’ve stayed calm. But the whispers and stories were relentless. That you and he both were god like figures with strange magic. Some believed the coming story of winter and death were being fought against by you both like saviours, others thought you both were responsible for it and others simply thought you both were lying to scare people into worshipping you both.

More that you had gone mad, a hysteria of your horrors of the war. Just a girl who has lost her mind, crying of visions and dreams and speaking in tongue not yours as if you were in a perpetual grief making you see the world as a nightmare. In a manner of speaking parts of it were not untrue, but Jon despised the painting of you as this unstable woman unfit to be Queen at his side beacuse your sanity had fallen from grace in grief and death.

“How much some of the other major Houses believe what I don’t know, but most of them think some combination of the above. And if that someone decided to see her or you as an enemy..”

Allard trailed off as if knowing Jon was going to nearly hiss out the finish of it himself. “Then they also think killing her would be better for their own causes.” His heart screaming at him for a moment, he struggled not to command Ghost to go to you now, as if for every reason he had you’d be in danger despite he knowing otherwise. Forcing through more gritted teeth, unable to hold back if the man could sense how a tenseness came over him without stop. “Do you have any idea who tried to kill her?”

Right away, Jon felt a sweep of an anger at how this story begun. “I was serving at Storm’s End when Aegon Targaryean and his men took the castle. Telling us we could keep our lives as long as we serve him while he was there, so, myself and Lord Alester spent some time around him and his men.” Jon sat there, there was no way he could’ve ordered this.

Aegon knew that if Jon found out it would turn the North from a peaceful ally, to an enemy in a second.

Continuing on, Allard seemed to tell that while silent, Jon was listening intently and intensely. “Aegon..he begun growing curious. Quite curious. First about her, then you. Wanting to know everything he could, what people said, what you both have done, what you were saying about the Wall and what have you. As if something clued in for him, that he didn’t know enough and started gathering any information he could about you and her. I never knew why, I wasn’t privvy to those conversations with his council, but I knew some were rather bothered about it.”

“Who?”

Jon had cut right to the chase, any name would help. Anything which could narrow it down would help. “Lord Connington didn’t seem particularly happy about his new interest in the Queen in the North I can tell you that. Aegon wanted to understand more about your cause up here, together, but Lord Connington seemed to focus more on his..” Jons eyes narrowed, a prompt to say the word he was hesitating on, which he did followed with your name. “His hatred for her. Eventually that sort of talk gets around, and next thing we know, half the Houses who declared for Aegon, thinks the story is that he’s the one who hates her. That she is using you, and the loyalty the North has for you, against Aegon somehow..”

It was nothing he wanted to hear, but much of what he needed to know. If you were seen as this great enemy, then taking you out would be something very important to a select number of powerful people.

But they had no idea. You were nothing like that. You had as many strengths as you did weaknesses, and Jon valued every one of them. There was no woman alive or dead who he’d rather have stand beside him as his Queen but you, and never did you manipulate a soul in that manner. You did not have it in you. Jon felt that anger tense in his fingers under the fine leather of his gloves.

These people didn’t know. They didn’t get to see the sight he woke to that morning. Hand sliding across to you and finding you nowhere, Jon shot up as the fur pooled around his hips only to hear a cry. Not an upset or sad one, but more of a nonsensical squeal. Across the room, you clearly had awoken to feed little Eddard. The dark shift on you looking more ragged as if thrown on quickly, but the sight of a long robe draped across your arms and back. A light blue that shined near white in the morning sun, with one shoulder fallen down your arm partially exposing the skin covered in bruises and indents made by himself the nights before. Holding him up after his feeding in a gentle rocking to lull him afterwards did the baby see Jon.

How Jon beckoned you over to him, letting the baby come to sit between you, your hand holding one end and him the other. Jon’s arm closest to you pulled you across to partially lay against his side. The words people were saying about you, when that was the life Jon woke up to that morning.

They had no idea who you were, or what Jon would do to protect you from every single one of them.

Back and forth both men went, one idea then the next until Allard shook his head almost with a huff of a laugh. “The Lannisters have every reason to want her dead, but Cersei couldn’t even muster enough talent to even try and prevent you from taking the Norths independence back. I doubt now she could orchestrate a well planned assassination attempt.”

Leaning back, Jon felt again the frustration fill him. “And if Aegons forces moving in on Kings Landing, it would be the wrong time to focus on us here.” He had suspected Cersei or the Lannisters in general were a high priority to look into. Without Lord Tywin, there wasn’t much for Jon to consider a threat from all the way here. Even Cersei was smart enough to know that if Jon simply stayed in the North, she could not take it and he would not repeat the victories taken previous by Robb against them.

Sitting forward, Jon ran his hands over his face for a moment. Elbows both propped up on the table, one falling flat against it as the other hand continued across his mouth to collect himself. Allard tried to passively start by saying he knew it wasn’t much help when Jon cut him off. “You have been. I promise, I’d never know what people were saying about her otherwise. Knowing how bad it all is, it gives more people even more reason to have wanted her dead.”

Allard was somewhat of a comfort however, “Well, your grace, it isn’t all bad. Some people hear the rumours, that she is some powerful witch at the side of a man she resurrected? As many people are talking about you both as if you’re liars or abominations, the other are talking about you like you two are some gods.”

That did not in fact, make Jon feel better. It was comforting that it was not all negative towards you, but the last words he wished to have associated with himself was that of a god. All he wanted was to keep you safe, and if all Jon had to focus on was the winds of winter, then maybe he had a chance. But the rest of the realm was testing his patience, and stretching thin his ability to keep you at an arms reach without just chaining you to his side every hour of the day.

Before Jon could even think of the words, Ghost read them. Suddenly moving up from in front of the fire and made his way out of the study to go to you. If it wasn’t Jon you were with, he was beginning to think he was not able to accept that guards alone were enough. If Jon could not keep you at his side always, then he knew Ghost would happily take the role at staying at yours.

“It’s always something with tiny doe.” Caught off guard, Jon looked over at him with a narrowed confused expression when Allard had a small grin come over his face. “You’ve never heard anyone call her that before?” Shaking his head no, Allard’s grin grew bigger and suddenly Jon felt the wave of something even remotely positive coming his way. “Well, she was always a tiny thing, right?”

That caught a smirk on Jons face. “That she was.”

“Well, since she was so small. Some of us joked that she was more like the size of a doe then a stag. And it came to me one day. Tiny doe. Called her that ever since, lady, Queen or not.” Jon leaned forward, the question on his lips of how many people have ever called you that and he had the one thing that was going to be used against you in the most amusing of ways he knew. “Near everyone on Dragonstone called her that.”

Well, that certainly was information Jon was happy to have learned.

You could only glare at your mother for the insinuation she had just made. Or, it was less an insinuation and more a vaguely worded judgment said outloud for all to hear. Your eyes flickering down to the sight now more appropriately hidden away, but her stare still persisted. Cutting right to the chase, though you did feel yourself forcing your words to be spoken clearly and steadily. “If you have something to say, I’d rather you come right out and say it.”

Narrowing her brows at you, across the table you all sat at did you sense Maege’s eyes glint with a mighty amusement. Your mothers stern nature was louder in your ears then it was in the kitchens themselves. “I only meant that it would be more advantageous for you to allow them to help.”

Your head tilted to the side, the urge to keep back a roll of your eyes even more prominent. “I didn’t wish for their help then, why would I ask for it now?” The discussion of a wet nurse continued to frustrate you, if you could say nothing else to your capabilities, it was that you knew how to take care of your own child on your own. Your mother attempted to make a point that this was the second time thus far in the afternoon you needed to stop what you were doing completely for the baby only for you to cut her off with a dryer, but knowing tone. “And what were we doing which was so important that I couldn’t take the time to let my son have that priority?”

Your mother stared at you, as you did back only for her to switch to a pleading with Maege who just laughed into her mug. “I fed all five of my girls from my own breast, eventually everyone around you gets used to it. Though, that would be beacuse you can’t give them the option otherwise.”

A small smirk came on one side of your face towards Maege. Between the three of you it was a constant battle. Mother against mother but you tended to be the one at the bottom, being given advice more of a lecture during the day by the both of them. Even when they seemed as if they disagreed, they would find that harmony just to pin you in a corner if only for their amusement of how easily frustrated it made you.

“And if you’re in a public procession, or meeting?”

Eyes narrowing, only commenting that you could always leave to do so. “How many of Jons people out there do you think are going to protest that I am not in perfect attendance when it is very clear I have a newborn to care for?” Only saying that she was attempting to guide you to accepting help when it was all around you did you try and wave her off. “And when I require it, I will ask. But so far, I’ve done fine without all the fuss.”

Feeling something creeping up like a sensation at the back of your neck, without much notice did you suddenly turn your head to the side looking up to one of the entrances. She did not quite blend into the background of course, not with the striking orange in her hair. Narrowing in curiosity, Sansa was partially leaning against the door frame looking in when your diverted focus caught the others attention as well.

Sansa stepping in more with a clearing of her throat. “I didn’t mean to look like I was spying. I only wanted to ask if I could join.” If she was expecting any reluctance, she did not get any. All three of you offering her to come join.

Swiftly did one of the maids ask if she’d want anything, only did she request whatever it was you three already had. A laugh coming as Maege commented that what you could eat or drink was rather small at the moment, and made a request for the girl, herself. Sansa’s blue eyes flickered over to you, a question within them of it what you both discussed this morning was to get in the way of any conversation now, but by the time you spoke, you had long since put it passed for now.

Gesturing with a nod to specifically designed embroidery on her dress, your eyes filled with a bit of a proud glaze over. “Did you do that yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen that dress before.”

Looking down as it to remind herself, it was a lovely deep blue fabric but a design along the front and down acting as if the seams were waves in water and the look of what was surely a fish modelled after that of House Tully looked like they swam along each wave. “I did.” Looking to the other two, there was a calm politeness about her that you felt as if hadn’t been seen in some days. “I’ve been away from home for so long, I thought it would be nice to start surrounding myself with more of it. To remember.”

To your suprise, it was your mother who understood first. “I had been away from my home for so long by the time I married my husband, that I used to sew small orange foxes into the sleeves of my dresses. I thought growing up in Brightwater Keep meant I would adjust to living on an island surrounded by water, but no matter how close somewhere you think can get, nowhere beats where you grew up.”

Glancing down to where you were holding the baby carefully, did you feel a strange wave of relief. Of everywhere you lived, you could think of no better place for your son to grow up then in Winterfell. It was somewhere that was unique, the snow beautiful and the cold while some days uncomfortable, was better then a sweltering heat which Dragonstone and Kings Landing both could become. A baby boy born in as much of the North as possible, and a place where he would grow up loved, with everything you could offer him and never let him grow up with that feeling of isolation you had.

Little did you even tune into what the discussion around you had become. Her skills at cross stitching, embroidery, such formal ladylike manners, you knew it was easy for Selyse to find ease in getting to know Sansa. No doubt you thought, if you had acted a bit more like her when you were just before your teenage years, would your relationship had been slightly less strained.

You felt their eyes, but did not think much of it as you continued about your business. Without even needing any help did you readjust your shall and dress without drawing any attention to doing so, the ease of the clasps and laces now mostly sitting at your front helped with it. Hoisting the little one up high on your front, his head sat at your shoulder with small taps to prompt him.

Not even noticing that while you only watched him, there were bright blue eyes watching you with something that it seemed most of the Stark siblings would give you one by one. A motherly sight they never knew they’d see on you by now, but with an ease in your bones and a gentle look in your eye towards him.

Running your hand over his back, you felt little Eddards head snuggle more against you as his eyes could soon droop. Sitting down you couldn’t rock him quite like he would want, but a small massaging feeling along his back seemed to make up for it on occasion. You hadn’t even noticed by the time it seemed the others were to clear out. Maege turning to help you up if need be, but you shook your head with a small smile. “I should stay put until he falls asleep.”

The older woman smiling with a nod, but she was not the last to leave. Sansa’s figure stopped at the door she came in through before suddenly turning around. Coming right back she took no time to sit down in the chair now closest to you. “Could I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Within reason of course, but Sansa of all people didn’t need to be told that. Her forearms stretching across the wooden surface before clasping her hands together as if holding her nerves in order to spit it out. “How did you and Jon realize where I was?”

A confusion came over you for a moment, “Ser Royce is still here, you’ve never asked him about it?” Shaking her head no, that she only knows what was said in the trial. Your eyes flickered to your son before adjusting him more carefully to lay in the same position but in a far better spot to fall asleep on. “It wasn’t me who figured it out. It was Jon.” Elaborating to her unsure silence. “Everything he knew from what I had told him, putting together the timing of events. Jofferys murder, you disappearing from the capitol, a bastard of Petyr Baelish none have ever heard of showing up at the Vale where Lysa just so happened to live. Jon could never be completely certain, but he had a heavy suspicion thats where you were. Just..not the why.”

That time her hands did toy with one another in a distraction move. “He promised to get me out of Kings Landing. Littlefinger. After the battle on the Blackwater, Joffery took Margaery Tyrell as his new betrothed but he wouldn’t let me go home. So Littlefinger promised me he would help. I just didn’t know what he would do for it..”

You remained nothing but silent, allowing her to speak at her own pace.

“He wanted Alyane to marry Harry Hardyng. I-” A deep sigh of a shame and frustration came. “I thought he was only trying to help me find a new life, I didn’t realize that if I married him and...something happened to Robin, that would make me Lady of the Vale at Harry’s side.”

Perhaps she didn’t want to say it, or it did not need to be said but you would put it out into the world no matter what. “And if something were to then happen to Harry, he’s already married one widow.”

The guilt and disgust came over her, and you knew she was keeping something to herself. Not something she enjoyed, not by the distance in her eyes but you felt that feeling all the same. You knew it well enough. “I wanted to do something tonight. But, I don’t want to do it on my own.”

Truly, you thought she was asking a much greater task of you then what it was.

Knocking on her door, little Eddard now safe with Bran, Meera, and Benjen, Arya opened the door in a bit of a state. Clothes ragged and out of breath, you spotted Needle sitting carelessly out against her table when you raised your brow in amusement. “You do know there is an entire training yard for that?”

Glancing at the guards behind you, she opened the door wider. “You two can’t come in.” Allard only nodded with a laugh you could nearly hear him trying to hold back without any words. Closing it, you walked a bit further inside when she explained herself, but not before turning to you in question. “Who was that? The guard, I’ve never seen him before.”

Her instant suspicion turning on you to question, all Starks were wolves in their own way weren’t they, you thought. “His name is Allard. He was in charge of my personal guard care when I was younger. Ser Davos and my father thought it might be nice for my new life to have a bit of my old one.” Asking suddenly that your father was here, you nodded with a bemused flash in your eyes. “Unless one introduction to his grandson was enough and he left, I imagine you’ll run into him eventually. Now what were you doing in here that couldn’t be taken much safer outside?”

Sighing, Arya wandered more back into her room, beginning to properly put things away. “Some of the younger children out there, they saw me practising one day. They wanted to know where I learned to fight that way and if I could teach them.” Sitting Needle down in it’s case, did Arya shut the chest and find herself sitting down against it with less energy then before. “I was trying to remember Syrio’s lessons. Teach them the way he taught me.”

Nodding, you paced along to meet where she sat, her carefully sliding over for you to have enough room to join her. The memory nearly long gone, but traces of it still existed if you focused. “He certainly left an impact on you.” The quiet sat comfortable before you broached the topic. “What happened to him? That day in the Red Keep?”

Arya’s head hung. The memory for her was as if it played before her eyes as did the emotions that came with it. “Ser Meryn Trant came in with Lannister swords. Saying I had to come with then, but Syrio knew right away something was wrong. They kept trying, and he fought the other guards off, before it was him and Trant alone. He was giving me a lesson, he didn’t even have a sword. Just a wooden practice one..and he told me to run. He wouldn’t let me stay when...but he gave me time to run. He’s why I escaped the Queen.”

Looking back up with a sniff, Arya’s face was more twisted between upset and angry as her voice rose to match. “Syrio told me something..that there is only one god.” If she noticed your muscles tense ever so slightly she made no mention of it, nor the relief as she continued. “That the only god is death, and we say only one thing to death. Not today.”

So that day, she ran. And yet took away one of the only people in Kings Landing she cared about beyond her family. It felt odd, the scar across your stomach with a slightly burn you knew existed to no one but yourself. Voice distant as you said it. “What does the god of death say about those who die and come back?”

Arya’s response almost made you laugh, were she not so clearly upset beside you. “I think it’s fair to think that you and Jon both said not today, of all people.” Your hand found the hair at the back of her head, a gentle motion, a soothing caress that you felt her lean into. “None of us ever had a chance did we? To say goodbye.” She shook her head no, and your soothing motions didn’t stop. “I can’t say it will heal all of it, but there is one thing.”

Perking up with a narrow eyed curiosity, you wondered if perhaps for now, lying about whose idea it was, was the better idea. Which, you weren’t sure it was. The moment the sounds of two pairs of feet walked into the small sept, did the normal quiet tranquility get shattered by the one next to you. “What are you doing here?”

Turning, you noticed it was not quite anger but a tense irritation between the two as Sansa spoke rather loudly right back. “I’m allowed to be in here.” Arya only asked she meant right now, and Sansa gave no less of an unproductive response. “So I’m not even able to share the same space as you? Do I have to stay away from breathing your air too?”

Back and forth they both got before you cut them off. “Girls.” The echo in the room made your projection of a normally quiet tone stand out as both heads whipped over wide eyed to look at you. “I’ll only say this once. Arya, stop antagonizing your sister. Sansa, stop egging her on when you know better.” To any onlooker, the nods from both girls would’ve come off as funny were it not in a place of worship occurring.

Many times when they were still very young did you wrangle them from arguments often, you were as used to putting an end to their squabbles as Catelyn once was. Looking to Sansa with a knowing squint asking if she too needed you to elaborate, but with a deep inhale she finally took the plunge, saying your name to Arya with a gesture towards you. “I asked her to bring you here for this, because I thought you would say no if I asked you myself.”

Arya stepped closer, her head turning to the side with a scrutiny. “Why would I say no?” Sansa only stating that the time the two spent together was hardly what one could call quality time. But Arya was as blunt as she was honest about it. “If I didn’t want to spend time with you, I just wouldn’t. It’s easy to avoid you.”

Trailing behind, both girls wandered more up to the other. “I wasn’t allowed to go to the sept in Kings Landing. Probably they thought it was too far from the Red Keep, they didn’t trust me. But I thought-” Looking up to you, Sansa needed no reassurance on what was her own idea. Swallowing the nerves back down, she seemed to spit it out. “We’ve all lost people we couldn’t give a proper goodbye too..so I thought we could do it together.”

Only feet from her, Arya’s voice was soft but the narrow in her eyes was less in suspicion and more simple question. “Most of what we do is in the godswood, but mother always prayed in here. I thought maybe she’d like it if we...tried to get along starting in the sept father built for her.”

A question of what about you, did you allow a smaller smile to grace your features. “I was named and raised alone in the Light of the Seven. I likely know more about it then both of you combined.” A pause, did a feeling raise heavy in your heart. Eyes drifting to a nowhere in particular as a haze came over with many a faces to follow. “Besides, I have goodbyes of my own I never have spoken.”

All three of you knelt on the ground, each sister on either side of you, allowing you to do most of the speaking. The statue of the Warrior stood tall before you, and each with a number of candles in front of you each. Sansa and Arya both had their eyes closed, but you looked up to him first. Scarcely had you prayed to them so distinctly, for some time after Shireen fell ill did you think the Seven cared not about you.

Some days you still thought that, but if anyone was listening, perhaps it was still worth it to try. Their hands each clasped together but yours sat flat against your thighs. Eyes fluttering closed. “May the Warrior grant us courage, guide us through the storms to come but too to bring peace to the souls of the slain already behind us, and comfort those they have left behind for now and to come. We only ask for guidance. The path we walk has darkness laid ahead, but guide us through on the path so we may fight for those around us still living, and keep them from what led them to the darkness.”

Opening your eyes with your head looking up to the Warrior once more, did you turn to each girl as they followed suit. Some names came from the mouths of all three of you, and you knew which were as such. A candle lit by each of you for your own offering, but the names came the same.

Eddard Stark

Catelyn Stark

Rickon Stark

Robb Stark

Your hand hesitated over the wick as it came to the name last. The feeling through your veins of that loss and feeling as if bleeding from the scar that never healed. With a shake both girls could see did instead of saying it more outloud as they did, Robbs name was hardly but a whisper from your lips. As if the candle was not for the Warrior, but for Robb himself. That you lit one to tell him, still now and always you hadn’t forgotten him.

Sansa was first, then Arya. Most of them had names you did not at all recognize nor did you expect too, but some you knew in some regards or passing. Some surprised you to hear of them at all. Despite doing it for nothing truly but gold, the name of Ser Dontos coming from Sansa was one of those names. He had whisked her away from the wedding to escape Kings Landing, and yet knowing why he did it was not out of kindness but greed, still was there a girl in her heart thankful for what he did, and a candle for him was lit.

Lysa Arryn was another, and the twitch in her jaw told that name was part of the story she wished to keep to herself. A lunatic, problem of a woman during the war, but still was Catelyns sister. Their aunt, and this a candle too lit for her as well.

Arya’s names were much less known. Most of them, if not all of them were smallfolk. Common people the nobles would look to as nobody, but candles lit for all of them, but she started with the one you knew she would. A candle lit for Syrio Forel, and maybe Arya could find it in her to continue his teachings as he did for her, but onto others.

Other names you knew nothing of. Weasel, Lommy, Yoren. None you knew, but her final certainly was felt by all three of you. As if it were fitting, that yourself, Arya and Sansa were the ones present as she said her final name. “Mycah.” No spoken for her to feel guilt, but Sansa and Arya both had guilt about it of their own, and maybe now it could begin to go away.

As you knelt there, both looking to you, did you wonder where to start. Or or whom. You fought in war, many died in front of you or around you and there were not enough candles in the world for that. But perhaps maybe, yours were not for comfort. Yours were for atonement. Offer their name now, to confront what you hadn’t done enough in life.

One for Jory Cassel, and the next following for Ser Rodrick. Some though, gave the sisters on either side of you pause. Three names did so as you lit their candles one after another. “Ser Alton Lannister, Torrhen Karstark, Walda Frey.” But you did not need them to understand why.

You did not kill Ser Alton or Torrhen, in fact both were by the hands of Jaime Lannister. But you were Queen when they were killed, and if would not take responsibility for their murders, then you would. Walda though? Your candle was for her murder, but too for what you never gave her. She was young and kind and naive and wanted to be a friend to you, but you gave her little to nothing and likely died thinking that you hated her. And you never did. You were simply a shell of what was once a woman, too dead on the inside to offer friendship. But she was not responsible for her grandfathers crimes, and so you lit her candle, not punishing her for it.

Between three of you in a quiet space with much of an echo, did you find it almost by fate that you heard him through the silence. Approaching in the quiet, a muttering to your guards to leave before leaning against the very edge of the outer door. Curls dusted with snowflakes teasing to melt if he only stepped inside, but allowed them to fall. Without the words or understanding to say you knew why, both you and Jon felt the other as soon as he approached. And he had watched long enough to catch only the candles lit with names from your lips, a curiosity to follow the softness painted over his grey eyes.

Both sisters found the sight just as they did before. Strikingly familiar. You stayed, quiet knelt before the candles looking into the flames with something troubled behind as you watched them flicker. And the sight of one with Stark blood looking inside with a love unable to be mistaken for anything else as he watched his wife from just outside the doors.

No words were spoken for some time as you watched, only when the sounds around were winds of the eve, did you find a smile. Your eyes playful as you turned to catch Jons gaze. “Are you afraid you will turn to ash if you step inside?”

The charming, handsome smile coming over him with a small laugh was enough to make a warmth crawl inside of you as if the very sight and sound was all you needed for comfort. Stepping inside the sept, did Jon pull closed the single door left open, sealing you both alone inside from the world. Looking up and around with a more wondering gaze, you wondered how long it had been since he was anywhere near here. Coming up, Jon held a hand out for you pulling you to your feet with grace, before swiftly putting you to his front. Hands on your hips while yours trailed up along his chest.

A raspy mutter as his breath hit warm as well across your skin. “Where’s the baby?” A quiet reply back as your fingertips trailed upwards as if tempted to toy with his loose curls, that he was with Bran and Benjen. A nod, Jon let his hands trail lightly along your waist to hip as if enjoying the simple feeling of you under his touch. “When was the last time you were in here?”

Inhaling as you thought, your eyes trailed to nowhere before your head tilted with somewhat of an answer. “It must have been that final visit before I came with the Kings company.” You hadn’t yet sensed it, but there was a brightness in Jons eyes looking down at you with a knowing of why.

Toying with his curls successful, you let them run to the back of his neck to rake through more purposefully. Commenting that you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen him in here, did Jon chuckle deep from his chest. “Probably because I haven’t.” You knew a little about that part of his upbringing, but not much, as Jon read your innocent ask in your eyes. “Robb learned about the Seven because of his mother, but I didn’t have to. I only learned enough to keep him company.”

A smile came over you, just as innocent. “You’re too much of a Northerner for a place like this.”

“And you?” A tilt in your head with a question in your eyes, Jon chuckled again. The grey in his eyes beautiful and bright. “You’ve married two Northmen. You married both of them under a Weirwood, your son is a Northerner. I think we’ve made you too much of a Northerner for this place as well.” He laughed with you that time, leaving your hip with one hand to tilt your chin up for him.

Capturing your lips with his, it was slow and lingering but a chaste sort of kiss that only didn’t allow for breaths or breaking away until he stated it as such. Following his guide, Jon slid his hand to run along your hair at the back of your head, grasping more at your neck to keep you angled up to him. Your front pressing against him properly, Jon let the hand at your hip wrap around across your lower back, pressing against your spine to keep you firmly against him.

He never picked up any pace, and never did he even deepen it. Just stealing every ounce of air in your lungs until they belonged to him, as you graciously offered them up. Barley pulling back once, twice, three times before he let it last as long as he could, using his grip on your neck to turn you downward and place another atop your forehead.

Looking back up to his eyes, Jon was not done. Brushing his nose over yours, tracing down its length before nudging you gently again before muttering, “Alright. Show me.”

Not quite letting you pull back, only enough to see his face was there something earnest in him behind the slight playfulness still detectable. “What?” Again repeating exactly what he said before, a bemused smile came over you, as Jons face lighted with it. “Show you what?” Jon only gestured around to the sept. “What to do?”

One hand running through your hair, tucked strands of it behind your ear as he cupped your cheek. “You know all about my family, what I believe. I was only a boy the last time I learned anything about the Seven.” Your only ask of why, was enough for Jon to read what you truly meant. “Who knows? Maybe one day I’ll have to ask them for their help.”

Your head dropped a bit, peeking back up to his. There was a laughter in his eyes, but also something genuine. Nodding, Jon turned you. Not to leave his grasp, but keeping you pressed to his front but more now you both could look to the sept around you. “How much of a lesson are you asking for?”

Narrow eyes thinking for a moment, before Jon found an answer easy. “Who did you pray the most to?” When you didn’t answer, Jon looked down towards you, a flush forming across your face as you held back something slightly embarrassed. “Who?” When you didn’t answer right away, Jon tugged you closer to his chest. “Fine. Let me guess. An innocent naive girl in over her head with a wolf on her tails..” Looking around, you knew he did not quite recognize what statue represented whom. “Which one is the Maiden?” With you pointing to where she stood, Jon smirked. “Her. I think you prayed quite a lot to the Maiden as a girl.”

Trying to pull away playfully, Jon didn’t let you get too far. Grabbing your arm and tugging you back into him more roughly as you forced yourself not to laugh. “As a matter of fact, it is quite normal for a young girl to pray to the Maiden. Ask for her protection and to preserve our innocence.”

Only raising an eyebrow, you still read the grin. “How much more did you start praying to her after I kissed you? That night in the wolfswood?”

Your heart picked up, a warmth spreading a bit away from just a fluster as you knew for Jon, being so teasing in front of the Weirwood was not the same as it was to act as such in here. But you felt his pull as if making you unable to break him his spell, not that you’d truly want too. “Quite a bit more.”

Rasping low, Jon asked if the last time was right before he almost took you to bed for the first time. A single nod as your lungs hurt. Struggling to keep that burning from overtaking you in his touch. Again did he toy with the hair at the side of your head, “I used to want to protect you from all that. I grew up faster then you did, my feelings for you were way more physical then yours were. Even before you realized you felt anything for me. But you were my innocent best friend, and I tried really hard to protect that.”

Your hands wrapping better around the back of his neck, you leaned up for the kiss that time. Jon meeting you halfway, but allowing it to remain a short and sweet one he knew so deliciously only you were capable of giving him, and also making him mad over it. “So, not the Maiden then. Because I’m not so sure you succeeded in that.” Jon laughed lightly in agreement before he turned you back to the other statues in the room.

“Who else?” You thought about it, there were six others of course but many times when one entered a sept they did not intent to pray to all of them unless it was so dire you needed to reach out to every one for their collective mercy. The Father, the Mother, The Smith, all in their own ways could apply to Jon but perhaps there was one which fit better then any.

Both for a true Northerner standing in a sept of faith he doesn’t believe in, but also for you together, and what you both represented in the world you now lived in compared to your old lives. Turning more towards the statue, you nodded for him to follow you. Standing in front of it, Jon kept a hand at your lower back with a squint. “I don’t remember this one.”

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his closest to yours, leaning against his side as your head rested more against his. “The Stranger. Neither man nor woman, but a lost wanderer, an outcast. Guiding the lost, the unknown, and the unexplained. They are the one who carries the dead beyond.”

Jon looked down at you, a heaviness in his throat as he used his free hand to slid across you to run over your scar. “So they’re the one who gave you back to me?” You only laughed gently, saying it would be an easy explanation. Instead of any further, Jon moved you both to kneel down properly.

Handing him a long lighter, you held him off from dipping it into the fire just yet. “Whoever you pray to, you light one candle at their alter, an offering of your truth. So they know it is you they must listen too.” Together he followed, each lighting one candle in front of you and him, before you set the tools aside.

Looking up in a quietness, Jon asked in a tender whisper, “Do I need to say any words?”

Meeting his gaze, he noticed again you had not your hands clasped together much like many others did in total prayer. Instead again they rested on your thighs, as if not committing entirely to such an act anymore. Wondering if when you were even smaller then when he met you, was there a tiny doe, a little version of you at an alter just like this with your hands together in prayer and wondering why it never worked.

But in response to his question, you shrugged a shoulder. “Not necessarily. Many pray in peace, others speak out loud thinking the gods can’t hear us otherwise. And there aren’t any words set to speak without choice. It’s more about honesty. One of the first things you learn reading the Seven Pointed Star is that the gods are as merciful as they are just, as long as you’re honest and accept punishment for your sins.” Jon resisted the urge unbeknownst to you, to reach out and run a hand down the side of your hair gently, as if to tell you to let go of all those sin your septa taught you were wrong.

Murmuring in your ear, “I’ll follow what you say.”

Instead however of letting both of you go without form, you did not know, but Jon had gently grasped the hand resting next to his. Clasping them around one another as if in a position of prayer, but holding onto one another. The feeling shaking through your veins, the memory of kneeling before the Weirwood in prayer like this, and Jons hand pressed against yours to never let you go throughout. That you were together in this new life no matter how.

It was informal, and not well structured, but in truth, you imagined rarely did the Stranger get anyone to pray before them, and many were lost souls unsure of what to do or say anymore. They were likely used to such scattered thoughts through emotions in rawness. Your eyes out of near instinct closed, Jon watched you for a moment as you begun to speak before doing the same. Something narrow in his brow, and troubled in his dark eyes but not towards you.

“Two of us were brought back from death, one died alone, the other returned alone. In that year did I begin to think it was all false. That no gods existed and if they did they were cruel and tormenting and brought nothing back of me but what had died. And for that year alone did I wish everyday to end it myself.” Jon didn’t keep his eyes closed, and found watching you with an intensity that you weren’t sure was him you were feeling, even though it was.

You continued regardless, you chose the Stranger for a reason. “I do not understand why or how, but as dead as I became, I too brought another back. The man I loved, not the one who died at my side, but the one who died alone. And since has he been my purpose. Whatever reason holy Stranger did you not ferry me with my love across to where they lay, but you sent me back for him. The future in front of us, I know I cannot ask for protection, but I come with thanks. For without your casting us from what lies beyond the veil, did I find life and purpose in another. That we such as you wander lost, but not alone.”

Slowly did you open once more, and without much hesitating, did you feel Jons hands run across to your cheek furthest from him and tilt you over. Facing him, he hovered close with dark eyes as they looked deep but penetrating. You spoke the words you felt, but Jon did better without them. Pulling you back to meet his lips, Jon kept you attached to him.

Unable to really move to him better, Jon leaned more over you as you both knelt before the statue of a god for those lost and dead and you somehow both found love in the middle of it. Capturing your kiss over and over before pulling from you suddenly that he could see your eyes flutter open and lips shine from his, did Jon prompt you to stand up.

Steadying you on both feet, Jon gave you not half a second before cupping your cheeks and bringing you back to his kiss. Your hands grasping at his shoulders, back, around the back of his neck or into his curls as he deepened it. Every ounce of breath was controlled by Jon and never did you question him or beg for mercy. He gave you the mercy he granted and you did not ask for it.

As if the reminder flew by your ear whispering where you stood, did you try and pull away only for Jon to grasp at the back of your neck to bring you back. Each time he refused to let your kiss go, as his hold on your cheek tilted you up better to meet as he hovered over you. Barley able to tear yourself from his lips enough to call to his name, strands of saliva still connected you both as Jon stood there with the clawing urge to bite at your swollen lips until he drew blood, the burning blazing through you both.

“Jon, we-” Instead, Jon satiated his need by moving to your neck. Lips barley tracing the spot before he sunk his teeth down, indents and sucking the skin to bruised before his tongue soothed the wound and his kiss marked the next spot. “We can’t do this sort of thing here.” Barley muttering out a why, you stammered as you too gasped. “It’s..this..the gods won’t like it.”

Raising his head back up, there was a desperation in your eyes at the sudden shift in how he was with you, and Jon knew just where to take this. “My gods aren’t in here. My gods are where I married you.” You hardly noticed he begun to walk you backwards somewhere you didn’t realize you turned towards. “The old gods don’t care if they watch a man and his wife make love, but yours do. And they’re wrong.” Your heart begun to race, the feeling of your back hitting the wall as a statue sat close to you that you had yet to be able to see past Jons intense gaze. “All your life they’ve taught you what you want is wrong, but you belong here now, to the North.”

He didn’t say it, but you read it in his eyes with no contest.

You knew he wouldn’t take just a nod, so your answered gently in a breathless whisper as your hands braced against his sides. He didn’t say it out loud here, but you would. “I belong to you.”

Jon only looked down at you with a dark look nearly a glare before he kissed you once more. A deep, biting kiss as he crowded you against the wall. His lips were always so soft and perfect, but they never failed to demand so much from you in a rough control. You could barley keep up, as Jon deepened it before cupping the back of your head to force you to stay there. One nibble turned to an impatient second only to be thrown away with a growl as Jon roughly bit at your bottom lip.

The gasp muffled to him, as he used the chance to glide his tongue into your mouth. Brushing against yours, tasting you before he tainted the rest of it, his other hand wrapped again around your lower back as he did so. Not even allowing you the control to explore him the same, Jon had all of the power too as he suddenly pushed your lower back. Your hips pressing into his, your hands reached up to grasp at his shoulders.

Instead of staying, that same hand then shifted to your front. Beginning the process of pulling up the skirt of your dress enough he could slip underneath. All the same time, did Jon blend between a kiss, a bite and his tongue. Each taking you off guard at his aggression but contrasted by such a refusal to leave your lips. Finding your hip, not a shift underneath nor anything else, that was what caused Jon to pull back.

Looking down at what he could see of your body and back to your eyes, a rasp which to any else would've sounded angry or offended. “How long have you stopped wearing anything?” Barley able to breath out a few weeks, Jon shook his head as if saying something to himself. A rough exhale through his nose looking down at you as he ran his bare hand along your hip with much more freedom. “I never asked you to do that.”

That time only you shook your head, he didn’t ask. But you did it anyways. Which was the right choice, as Jon bit at your lips once more demanding entrance, exploring your mouth and brushing against his tongue to yours as if to overwhelm you. More and more his hand explored, gripping rough portions of your skin, his cock throbbing each time he could feel the plushness of it. So much better then what you had tried to force yourself to stay before, now he could grab you properly. The last you had skin this plush, he had never been inside of you and Jon knew his past self had not a single clue what he was missing. Now you were his, and soft just like you were before everything went wrong.

Suddenly cupping you completely, you arched into his front, but Jon pulled back enough to find your eyes. The black had overtook all of what was left of the grey as he growled down to you. “I think I know what to say.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as you caught your breath, only to have Jons head turn to show you where he moved you.

Your eyes widened, and a fluster came about you that would be impossible to hide from Jon, his large hand pressed enough that his fingers would feel traces of your wetness any moment. He had moved you beside the Maiden. Why it came from you, you had no idea, but you said it before he could. “It was about you. When I’d pray to her, it was about you.” Jons eyes widened as he looked down at you. “What I felt about you, how confused you made me feel before you kissed me, and how I felt guilty for wanting more of everything you taught me.”

That was when you felt it. Fingers teasing you at your entrance when Jon muttered against your lips. “It wouldn’t be enough, darling. Not for how much I obsessed over what being inside you would feel like. After that day, I couldn’t close my eyes at night without seeing you bare against my bed, letting me look at all of you.” The later words Jon suddenly sunk two thick fingers deep inside of you, running right up against a sensitive wall before moving back almost out. A growl left Jon without thought, forehead pressing against yours as he dragged his fingers in and out of you. His breathing harsh as he said it, the rasp behind his accent growing thick. “Robb had no idea how lucky he was that he got to have you first..”

Your voice was meek but it came out breathless and wanting. “Jon..”

A biting, rough kiss and he continued. “You must’ve looked so beautiful, right when you realized for the first time what it really feels like. He couldn’t have been gentle with you..” Jons fingers, were too, not very gentle. But a never ending feeling building up in you of pleasure that was making you lightheaded. “You’re so tight around me as it is, but for your first time? Robb would’ve had to be rough with you. Was he? Did he fuck you roughly that night?”

If you could even consider lying, your mind was so high in a burning, twisting pleasure within your core that you weren’t capable of it. “Yes..” You nodded fervently along with it, and Jon gave another biting kiss that tingled when he pulled away.

His other hand rucking your dress up more, his other fingers rough as they found your clit. Tight patterns, the pressure building faster and faster as he couldn’t contain himself from talking. “I don’t know how he did it. Fuck you that way, not being able to kiss you, see you..” It was so sudden, the way your orgasm shattered within your core and flooded your veins like waves of burning water as you arched into him, but Jon didn’t bother to slow down, or ease you through it. “The way you’d let him throw you on your hands and knees...you let my brother fuck you like he hated you.”

Biting down on your lip, you grasped onto him tighter, cries no longer able to be contained as the sounds were a blessing in Jons ears. “He- he didn’t- we-”

A more shushing kiss, but Jon did not slow down. “I know he did, darling, I know. I love you as well, it’s alright.” You only nodded before he saw your eyes flicker down to his lips with an innocent want, so he obliged. Keeping you against his kiss as he drew another orgasm, his fingers growing more and more soaked as he knew he couldn’t wait for anything else. It had to be here.

Barley dragging from your kiss, Jon pulled from you entirely, a cry like a whine leaving but he did not go far, only working at his clothes enough to free his cock, thick and as hard as could be. Using one hand to grasp your hip, he hiked you up onto his thigh opening you up for him. That time, Jon didn’t kiss you, he didn’t say anything. He only made you look at him, the moment his tip prodded your soaking entrance did he use that hand to now grasp tightly at the back of your neck.

A glare almost in him as he held you like a wolf keeps its prey in its teeth to watch him. Slowly did Jon slide inside, your lips parting with a needy gasp and cry. Your hands grasping at his sides before sliding up around the back of his neck but he wouldn’t let you hide in his chest. Instead, Jon only held at your neck and tight his arm wrapped around your thigh on his hip.

He was slow, pulling almost the entire way out, an emptiness following that you could not bare. Biting down on your tongue hard to prevent yourself from begging him not to leave you, but just as you reached a desperation did he sink back inside. Never leaving your soaking warmth, Jon thrusted a painfully slow manner back inside of you. In and out, Jon fucked you, your core burning more then you could handle.

His own lips parting somewhat as he sunk inside of you again and again, eyes closing as if trying to contain himself from losing it, but never did you look way from him. Opening back to see you obeyed, Jon slowly let go of his grip at the back of your neck. A turning tilt of his head glaring at you nearly, and you knew what it meant. The hand suddenly pressed against the wall, his palm beside your head as Jon sunk as deep as he could inside of you again and again.

No man would accept this pace if you gave it to him, but Jons cock throbbed each time he slowly filled you entirely, and his grip tight as he left you so only the tip of his cock remained. Your senses lulled, only the wide stretch he gave you and how much his size could hurt. Yet your nails dug into the back of his neck sharper at the feeling, the pain everything you wanted from him because it blended with that burning pleasure to create something perfect.

Looking down at you, Jons black curls created a curtain hiding your vision from the rest of the sept. Only Jon, in this place of worship, he wanted your focus and faith on nothing but him. Slow and never picking that pace up but something in him was clawing. He didn’t want to speed up, sinking so slowly inside of your cunt was better then anything his younger self would’ve imagined, but he did desperately want to be rough.

You could handle rough, and he knew it. You always could from the very start as it turned out. Jon growled as he throbbed inside of you at the thought. He knew you were born just for him.

Thrusting deep but just as he nearly filled you, did Jon pull your thigh up higher, then his hips were no longer kind. A deep thrust, rough that dragged his name so loud from your lips he had to break his stare and kiss you just to keep you quiet. “Shh, darling, my men are right outside. They’ll know what we’re doing if you beg me that way.”

But did you want them too? You weren’t sure, he always tested your resolve to being caught and sometimes you wondered if he was priming you to want that as much as he did. And it was nearly working were you not a burning mess. Arching into his front, his length filled you over and over, each rough thrust at the end was growing more and more common, and he needed more and more space inside of your walls to do so.

His fingertips pressed harsh against the wall as he fucked up into you, meeting your eyes again with a rasp of your name. Jon didn’t even have any words, but a raw need of you as you had him. More and more his rough thrusts turned to something more, a pounding of his cock that were clothes not in the way, the smack of skin would’ve been something of worry to an unknown listener.

Instead he kissed you, fucking faster and faster. Your core burned white hot as if a sun ready to explode in the sky but nothing but around him. A metal twisting inside a ticking noise of how soon he was going to draw you to another end.

Your words were much more innocent then his cock inside of you, “I love you.”

Pushing you up against the wall, Jon gripped your hip instead keeping you steady as Jon suddenly sunk deep inside of you, no space to even breathe. Pounding again and again as you burst around him, a clawing at his clothes and begging in his ear as everything took you away from the world and into a pleasure of Jons making, and nothing else existed.

A hot thickness suddenly filled deep inside of you, Jon shamelessly spilling his seed as deep as possible as his head dropped to your shoulder with each rougher pound. Only, you had no time to take in how much he filled you, as he suddenly pulled out. Grasping your neck and hip, Jon wordlessly turned you in place.

Little decorum was found as he moved you to lay against the ground of the sept, shamelessly moving the skirt of your dress so he could see your soaking core on display for him, his seed still deep enough it didn’t leak out, and it only made Jon harder. A hand again pressed beside your head now as he hovered over top of you, your legs bent at the knee to stay on either side, and Jon thrusted back inside of you.

He spared no time now. A pound even without the contact together of your hips, it still was something that was worrying, but no one would interrupt him. The sounds didn’t matter, he ordered to be left alone. His cock moving in and out faster and faster, your hands grasping at his curls around the back of his neck with begs and pleads for him, fluttering eyes desperate to try and stay open at what he silently wanted.

Only Jon had too much in him, hardly any time passed when he spilled inside of you again, but Jon only fucked you harder, fucked you faster and faster. Speeding towards however many ends you both were to find, you think you came. Your orgasm within your blood and mind in a buzz but it felt as if it never ended, by the time you felt it stronger.

Looking down at you, barley able to keep your eyes open did Jon rasp down to you. “I’ve got you, I promise.” Letting them close, Jon finally hid is face in your hair. Tucking your head into his neck, barley your upper bodies moved but with the force of how hard Jon fucked you.

Again and again, you found your end and Jons seed poured thick spurts inside of you. Moving to his knees, Jon grabbed at both your hips, now in control of his thrusts. Purposeful ones that had him gritting his teeth at the force as you could barley hold onto his sides as he did so. Your final orgasm came with his together.

Your back arching against the tiles as you begged his name in a soft need, Jon growling yours as he made a painful mark like he moulded your cunt for his cock alone. You clenched tightly around him, warm and soaking before Jon spilled inside of you once more. That time keeping his length as deep as he could go before slowly easing back.

Less rough, but his hips still moved. Finally, your body feeling boneless, did Jon sit up on his kneels not even needing to leave you to do so, he rested you up in his lap. No longer thrusting, but connected together as he tucked sweaty strands of damp hair behind your ear, his curls no better. Kissing you deeply, and a lingering kiss he’d have to keep you here until you could come back down.

Your head hid in his neck and shoulder, nuzzling what you found as you pressed your lips to his neck. If one asked you didn’t even remember where you were, all you knew was you were in Jons arms with him deep inside of you. It was all that mattered.

To Jon, he cupped the back of your head, soothing you back down without having the strength to leave your warm walls. Looking up and around to the statues, he was sure he made his point. He didn’t know what force in this world was trying to tear you both apart, but Jon would make it clear to each and every one of them that they wouldn’t succeed. Fucking you in a Sept surrounded by the Seven, that was just one off his list.

He had many more powerful forces to go, to teach that no one would ever take you from him again.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Do you have any tips on making characters more plot relevant? I have characters that are important to the story because of who they are and their interactions, but when it comes to their page time or POV I struggle to make their side and individual story meaningful. I’ve been able to add more events that they deal with and add importance to their character, but I feel as if it’s too secondary. I won’t call them afterthoughts but they kind of are. I struggle with having character arcs and development that are a part of the main plot but don’t deal with it directly often.

Making Characters More Plot Relevant

If you have characters who are important to the story in terms of their relationships with other characters, and who you feel need to be a bigger part of the story, here are some things you can do to give them a stronger role in the plot:

1 - Give Them Agency in Main Plot Events - First and foremost, you want to make sure these characters have at least some bearing on what happens in the main plot. Each character should make decisions or take actions that directly affect the main plot, at least once in a while. They can even make decisions or take actions that initiate major plot events even if they're not involved in them.

2 - Create Subplots That Feed into the Main Plot - Can you think of any "side quests" (so-to-speak) that need to be carried out in order for the story to progress that these characters could do? For example, maybe your protagonist has to pull off a big heist in order to solve the story's external conflict, so they are gathering their team. Perhaps some of these characters could go on a "side quest" to locate one of the potential recruits.

3 - Create Main Plot Conflict for Them - Each of these characters should have their own internal conflicts and their own motivation for working toward the story's goal. Can you think of some way to create conflict for them between what they want and what actually needs to happen? For example, maybe they were trained in the dark arts and the reason they are with this heist group is because they left that life behind and no longer want to practice dark arts... but maybe their role in the heist will require them to use dark magic. How will they overcome this conflict?

4 - Utilize their Unique Skills or Knowledge - Consider giving some of these characters unique skills or knowledge that can be used in the fight toward resolving the conflict. So, in the case of the example heist story, maybe one of these characters is really good at creating forgeries. Or maybe another character has incredible stealth skills. By making their knowledge or skills invaluable to the "mission," you can give them more weight and make them invaluable to the plot.

5 - Consider Combining Characters or Reassigning Tasks - Quite often, if you're really honest with yourself, you can probably take some of these important-but-not-plot-relevant characters and combine them. In other words, if you have one character who is important because they're the protagonist's love interest, and you have another character who's important because they're a main character's sibling, is there some way you can combine this into one character? So that this character is both the protagonist's love interest and the main character's sibling? Another option would be to look at important tasks completed by other characters. Can any be reassigned to a character who needs something more important to do? Or could they play an important role in assisting that character with the task?

By utilizing some of the tips above, you should be able to give your characters more relevance in the plot.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[masquayla-the-splendid]

GUYS do you remember THIS post???

Well. Do I have a story for you.

When I was a wee young lass, I was on the Pony side of doll enjoyers. This was like 2008, so it was G3. I had several DVDs of the cartoon, but I had one of a live performance called "The World's Biggest Tea Party." It's exactly what you expect.

One day, I decide to go through all of my DVDs and re watch some that I haven't in a while, this being one of them. It's barely reaching feature film length, but the pacing makes it feel like it's well over an hour.

But I'm not here to critique an Mlp musical meant for 5 year olds, I'm here to show you where part of my Sister Location synesthesia probably comes from.

LOOK.

It was hard to find exact visual parallels, because like I said in the linked post, pink light is used when the Funtimes are preforming, which you see very little of in-game.

There were even similar plot concepts!!! Don't be alarmed, it's not what you think!!!

The movie is available for free on YouTube, but I'll summarize it since the dragging was stronger than my nostalgia goggles.

Pinkie Pie wants to plan an event with her friends where they "have the most fun in one day." So the whole movie is them preparing for a tea party that happens at their friend's house outside of PonyVille. Subplot with Spike trying to find a "how-to" book and the Ladybugs trolling him. Pinkie was so focused on making sure her friends didn't forget their responsibilities, that by the time they got there, she realized she forgot the tea. She feels super bad, but some encouragement from Minty and the screaming child audience summons an oversize teapot. Happy ending.

Text-to-text comparisons I drew:

Main character is a shade of red, and likes parties.

"The most fun in one day"

Main character being overly aware of what everyone else is doing. Super attentive, or if exaggerated, you could call it being bossy.

Main character has a big oopsie.

One of the ponies who is SO adhd coded keeps subconsciously putting off preparing her decorations. She "just wants to have fun." (Character does a thing, doesn't know why, only wants fun.)

Giant kitchen utensil.

The Ladybugs and Minireenas. They share similar design features, and pester a character associated with the color purple.

Those three fairy ponies? Bidybabs. Ones of em's even yellow, it can be Electrobab.

"Bounce Back-Ability"/Adapting from the oopsie.

The aforementioned synesthesia was all visual. I hardly remembered anything of the plot until I watched it recently. I wanna say the last time I put that DVD in, I was like 6. So like the synesthesia was coming from a near 14 year old memory. That's nuts.

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Currently Watching - September

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 25.09.2024

A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

gif-requests are open, but you'll need to have some patience🌼

Here you can find all of my gifs.

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in September with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. First Note of Love 🇹🇼 (8/12)

I need them all to communicate more. Not about each other but with each other. And really listen to the other one. Most of the episode was the side couple and one discuss why he thinks they would never work out and the other one tries to tell him why he thinks they could make it work. At least they're talking.

2. I Saw You In My Dream 🇹🇭 (11/12)

I love these two together. They just work and are cute and you can feel the love between them. Yu is a really perfect first boyfriend. He doesn't push and just accepts Ai as he is. I enjoy their relationship so much. And now I am really curious what will happen in the last episode.

3. Jack & Joker: U steal my heart! 🇹🇭 (3/12)

I could watch War looking at this ring for an entire episode and I wouldn't be bored. He really nailed this episode with his many personas he played. He is indeed a good actor and such a pretty one too. And I was screaming, when Jack gave the ring to Joker and let him get away. And next week we get some redemption work. Can't wait!

4. Kidnap 🇹🇭 (4/12)

These two are so cute. I know shit is going down soon, but until then I enjoy those two flirting with each other to the max. Min is already so smitten by Q and Q is realising, his feelings are a little bit more than just friends. I really like it.

5. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (20/36)

Do you still believe I'll come back to this one? It is a really good series, but I can't motivate myself to dive into it right now 🙈

Finished in September

Series

Takara no Vidro 🇯🇵

We had our final today and I loved it! The fact both of them missed each other and communicated this. Taishin likes it when Takara opens up to him, because it makes him feel special and closer to him. And I get that. Takara is a person who doesn't talk much about himself, but who has so much anxiety and Taishin wants to share those burdens, because they are equal, because he wants to take care of Takara too. I started this series without any expectations and with mixed feelings, but it slowly became one of the gems of the week and I was so looking forward to this final episode! A really good 9 out of 10.

4 Minutes 🇹🇭

This was something else. You really have to pay attention to get this story. I like series with a not that sugar-coated ending and we definiteky got this with 4 Minutes. Not everyone got their happy ending. Even though Great and Tyme got their happy ending together, not everything was good here. That was kinda realistic in such a mystery series. But I must admit, I really liked Korn and Tonkla's ending. It was best for their story. I said what I said. This gets a good 9 out of 10.

Hidamari ga Kikoeru 🇯🇵

This series... I loved it with all my heart for the first half. And then I just got angry with it for multiple reasons. It is so hard for me to give this a rating. Damn. I bought the mangas because of this series and I read the first ones. The problem is, the story is really complex and that works for mangas and novels pretty well, because it gives the characters depth and well, a character. But it doesn't work like that in a series. Too many subplots take away the growth of the main characters. And if you throw in a new character in the middle of the show, don't make them that unlikable like Maya. She is way more likable in the manga. For me, the second half just doesn't work and it felt incoherent with the character development. They tried to stay too true to the source material. I wished I could love this series from beginning to end, but I couldn't. Overall I give it a 6,5 out of 10.

Seoul Blues 🇰🇷

I didn't like this one that much. Yes, they had good chemistry, but this whole cheating and evil ex plot was not for me. I don't know why. Usually I don't mind cheating plots and find them kinda entertaining, but here it was not that good. I give it a 6,5 out of 10.

The Trainee 🇹🇭

Fun thing, even though this was a slow burn and we got a bunch of side stories, I really enjoyed this series! It was funny and entertaining and showed a good character growth for all its characters. That is something we don't get that often in a series. Nothing felt like a side story. They were all important for the plot as for the company. And Jane and Ryan are just cute and precious. I give this one a 9 out of 10.

Happy of the End 🇯🇵

We got our happy ending. And a time jump, but I think it worked really well with this series. Because Haoran needed the distance to Chihiro. He needed to understand that he isn't the bad guy in the story and that Chihiro was truely happy with him. He needed to heal for his own sake and on his own. I really liked the series, even though it is one of the series with the most trigger-warnings. I am just happy to see them happy in the end, after all they've been through. A strong 9 out of 10 for me.

The On1y One 🇹🇼

This series gave me everything. A warm feeling in my cold heart. Butterflies in my stomach. A good laugh. Some tears. And a bunch of heartbreaks! Damn! This was such a good ride! Those two, Tian and Wang, are soon to be step-brothers and they're in love with each other. Tien knew this since the first time he saw Wang and we could whitness Wang slowly recognising his feelings for Tian. And we didn't get a happy ending. If you will, this is an open end, but there is no working through these feelings. We just end as devastated as Tian, because Wang has built up his emotional walls again to keep distance to Tian. Because they're will be brothers and that means they can't be lovers. This hurts so bad and good at the same time! And the acting is superb! I love this series so much! A 10 out of 10 for me.

Movie

Short Film

Dropped in September

Cityboy_Log 4.2 🇰🇷

This is too confusing for me. I don't get the episodes or the seasons and definitely not the plot. They are all friends and the whole cheating part from last season is just forgotten. I guess I will look into it from time to time, but for now, I drop it.

Looking forward to in September

Live in Love - Trailer (Sep 1st)

Happy of the End (Sep 3th)

Kidnap - Trailer (Sep 6th)

The Hidden Moon - Trailer (Sep 7th)

Jack and Joker - Trailer (Sep 9th)

Unlock your Love - Trailer (Sep 11th)

The Time of Fever - Trailer (Sep 12th)

Love Sick - Trailer (Sep 14th)

Bad Guy my Boss - Teaser (Sep 15th)

Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Sep 17th)

Chaser Game W2: Utsukushiki Tennyotachi (Sep 20th)

Uncle Unknown (Sep 20th ?)

[greencrysanthemums]

Its so neat that To be hero x is here now ive been waiting since the first trailer and the story is genuinely so interesting

Obviously waiting for X, Captured my heart from the very beggining

I might make my little episode yaps every sunday

Ep 1-3 Yaps under the cut!

Episode 1:

OPENING SONG IS SUCH A BANGER! It does remind me a little bit of Solo Leveling’s opening but thats irrelevant here

it was a lot more than I expected, the sudden death from OG Nice Im not gonna lie made me giggle cause I though that he was expecting Lin Ling to stop/grab him and obviously he died

Im also wondering why THAT specific place to choose and die? What could have made him want to do it there when he saw that Lin Ling was there

Episode 2:

Genuinely in love with how they portray moon as her own character or at least wanting to be her own character away from Nice

Most often than not secondary female characters get forced into the romantic subplot rather than letting them be their own character!

Obviously the Wreck and Nice plotline is a little tragic that I wish they would have divulged more so we have a better understanding on who former Nice was

overall a good ep and honestly a little shocking because of how they touched on the topics that usually follows the status quo

We kind of get a lot more information how capitalistic the nature is of the hero org, a theory of mine is that X is his own thing and is not signed to a Superhero org at all I mean he could be considering he has that drink branded after him? I guess we’ll figure out in october!

Episode 3:

I enjoyed this episode because I misunderstood how the world works from ep 1

I thought that you would have to have multiple have faith in you, to have supporters behind you in order to obtain the powers but not at all, The nature of this world is that if multiple people believe you are one thing, then you become that thing

I watched this episode with my friend and he pointed out how sad thst shit could be, like imagine being a kidergsrtener and a bunch of your classmates believe you are a poopy head, what will that do to you yknow? <Its a childish comparison but it still lets you see the bigger picture>

it also tells us a lot about how one sided Views can affect people, Stand Man couldnt sit down at all because people believed that he stood for justice, that he always will and that perspective affected his personal life as well

I think in a way, this may be affecting Lin Ling because he took on this Nice persona, he’s completely forgotten abt his former life and his personality has changed completely

He has OCD as mentioned from the last few moments between his conversation with Stand Man and I think this might be from how the people see Nice as this perfect non lying hero, the most upfront to his fans and the like

aside from that we got to take a greater peek into the capitalistic nature of this world! Popularity is everything and its important that we make it to the top ten!

genuinely curious abt X even more We’ll see!