#she just doesn't fit into the story organically

[alevolpe]

Would Sailor Chibi Moon exist in your Sailor Moon AU?

In the main timeline, no. Tbh not in any timeline I plan to explore, but in a future timeline I plan to explore a little, Chibs is the main character.

It's kind of like a side story, centered in Crystal Tokyo, where Chibs is growing up with the 4 inner senshi acting as her caretakers cause the Queen has fallen ill shortly after her birth. It sounds cute and it kind of is, but it has an overall darker tone that my general AU, CT is not a good ending future and I wanna explore that.

Regarding the main timeline, I go back and forth if to include her in the last season as Usagi's actual child (Usagi and the others are in their 20s), but idk, on one side it's super cute, but on the other it might be too depressing since I don't see Usagi coming back after fighting Galaxia and the prospect of leaving a child that was just introduced motherless feels a bit cruel.

[felassan]

Some things in BioWare's transcript of the August 30th dev Discord Q&A are a lil different to what was actually said in the Q&A. not only editing to tidy up and be concise etc; some of it seems to actually be new/additional (or updated?) information. this post is just a quick summary of the new or different things I noticed when comparing the BioWare transcript to a word-for-word transcript (or at least the ones that stood out to me anyways). DA:TV spoilers under cut.

This post is a mix of new snippets and rephrased answers to things that were rephrased in a way that stuck out to me or interested me. nb, it doesn't highlight changes if the change was something not being included in the BioWare transcript (there was some of that too).

John Epler: "I don't know if any of [the Evanuris] consider [tea] a favorite beverage"

[re: hugging Assan] Assan "always appreciates the attention. He's got a sharp beak and he'd let you know if he didn't."

Variation of the WEWH question answer:

"There's always going to be politics to some degree - there are a number of different groups with different priorities, and not all of them are going to be immediately disposed towards trusting you. But while the Inquisitor had an organization and an army (and even Hawke and the Hero of Ferelden spent more time moving in political circles), Rook's situation is a little more desperate and immediate. Their approach is therefore a little more direct, and so while they may occasionally find themselves in the political sphere, they're not trying to assemble an army or build consensus amongst nation states."

[on companions' ages] The part of this where they described the companions' age range has been changed from where it said "early-mid twenties" to just say "mid twenties". Also, Taash was said to be "early twenties"; she is now simply "the youngest".

New sentence on the ages: "We don't usually nail down a specific age, unless it's something that comes up in their content, but we want to have an idea as to their general age range as we're writing them."

If no side characters stand out as a good candidate for a 'light' romance, this is never something they want to force

Griffons as half-bird half-lion - it now reads half-eagle half-lion

"Thedas has always been filled with extraordinary people, and in DATV you're trying to save the world. It stands to reason that the people you're bringing on board are going to be people with extraordinary circumstances of their own."

On the Veil not being in great shape and having been deteriorating in recent times/the intervening period between games, a more specific figure is given: "things in general have been slowly getting worse over the past decade and a half"

Lucanis and Bellara find out they have a lot in common and develop a "really fun" friendship, even though "it's hard to think of two companions who feel more different on the surface"

Neve and Bellara's friendship "kind of evolved organically as we were writing them, and finding out all the opportunities we could to throw little tastes of it into dialogue was a blast"

when enemies are slowed due to Slow Time, Rook stays moving at full speed

Rook's weapons and companions' gear can also be transmogged in addition to Rook's armor gear and casualwear

New sentence: "I've built Harding as a Support Character one run, and a DPS the next run. If you want to use Davrin as a DPS, you can do that."

"But each Companion has a gift that you can purchase from vendors in the world, and then give it to them." - it sounds like there is only one unique gift that you can give to the companions each?

"In general, something like a short story anthology is a volunteer thing - we ask people what they want to write and, generally, people tend to gravitate towards character ideas and concepts they already had in mind for a companion."

"So it's rare that we write a character that isn't intended to be a companion and then think 'oh wow this character would be a great fit', but it's not unheard of either."

"Ultimately we wanted to be sure that The Veilguard could be a good entry point to Dragon Age for new players and people who know almost nothing about the universe. But if you're the kind of player who wants to catch the most references, I'd suggest reading The Missing (most recent comic series) and Tevinter Nights. The former is a direct narrative setup for the beginning of the game" while Tevinter Nights is "less of a direct narrative tie", though it introduces "characters, concepts and story elements" that show up in the game

New sentence and info: [John Epler] "The Archon's Palace floating was something we came up with midway through writing Tevinter Nights and I had to furiously rewrite a few things." - the Floating Building is the Archon's Palace?

"Mae is a character that means a lot to so many DA fans" (<3)

Crow politics are now described as "complex" as well as deadly

"Some romances allow you to express interest without 'committing'" - so it sounds like not all of them allow this? - "but all romances eventually end up being exclusive"

"With each specialization we wanted to explore, both visually and through gameplay, what a specific class member of that faction might look like. Spellblade, for example, is our answer to the question 'what does a mage assassin look like'."

Our ability to save PCs so we don't have to start from scratch in CC each time was very important to the devs

"the feeling we want to evoke over the course of the game is one of growth, both in yourself as Rook and in your companions as they overcome their own problems with your help. These problems are often external in nature, but they are always tied, at their core, to the conflict that the character carries within them. And they are, also, always uniquely Dragon Age problems on the surface, but still relatable."

The difference in the answer to the is Lucanis possessed question interested me.

Original for the sake of comparison:

"So, again, spoilers, everyone has been warned, fairly warned. So Lucanis Dellamorte is also known as The Demon of Vyrantium. And, he has spent a lot of time killing Venatori, who are mages, and who do know a lot about demons, so. Yeah, somebody decided that it might be a good idea to make that nickname stick."

New:

"There's definitely something going on with Lucanis - and before you hired him, he was known as the Demon of Vyrantium. Might be that someone took offense to that nickname, especially since he earned it by killing Venatori."

New sentence in the answer to the is Thedas a southern continent question:

"Of course, nothing says that distance to the sun is the only factor impacting weather."

.. [probably reading too much into this don't look at me ik many factors influence weather irl hhh] magic? the Veil? the deteriorating Veil? the risen Gods? the Blight? Thedas is experiencing global warming? :D

"As part of our attempt to make the companions feel like they have their own lives outside of just Rook, we asked ourselves what pairings made the most narrative sense and then talked about how they might actually unfold in the game. And even before companions get together, you can see that interest starts to develop. Which is, I think, one of my favorite things about the companions. They don't just fall in love with each other, they become friends, confidents, and even rivals at times"

It takes Davrin a while to trust others. He can be a little standoffish, but eventually he warms up to anyone who shows that they have his back

As a monster hunter a lot of Davrin's hobbies revolve around that

"a lot of elves go around shoeless, and that's in part because they believe it brings them closer to nature. What better way to understand what the world and ground are saying than to walk directly on it? but not every Dalish follows this custom" [...] "The Veil Jumpers, in general, are a little more likely to wear boots and shoes, as they're far more likely to end up in dangerous places and fighting unsettling creatures than the average Dalish"

On Bellara's boots: "you never know when you're going to find a broken artifact with a lot of sharp edges."

Bellara is a big fan of pan-frying anything she can (re: food)

Lucanis has the refined palate of an Antivan Crow

Getting the beards to work with all the armor variations that they have was especially challenging with dwarves because they "tend to be" shorter

Those beards that were designed with dwarves in mind can alsobe used for humans and qunari (I wonder then if elves cannot have beards in CC? Like I know they usually don't have them or have it in CC and that lore says they don't but there are a also a few lorebreaking instances of it and I wasn't sure which way this one would go given how 'free choice/options for all' the CC in this game has sounded like it has been designed to be)

"You'll see more on this as we showcase character creator in our runup to launch"

For this question "Since you can choose to be a part of the same faction for most of the companions, will that give you an advantage when trying to befriend them?", the answer now reads that in addition to the unique dialogue same-background Rooks have with the companion of that background, it can also "change the timbre of your relationship a little bit"

John Epler: "one of my favorite things about this group of companions is how much time they spend with each other"

[on the companions] "They're a family, and like a family, they don't always get along"

"A lot of Solas' relationship with the player is personal. He sees a lot of himself in Rook - both the good and the bad - and largely talks only to you, as you're the one he has a connection with."

"Not to mention at least a couple of followers who would likely love to ask an ancient Elven god some questions."

"a common complaint we've heard in past games is that many players disliked always feeling like they needed a Rogue to be able to lockpick, so fortunately Rook finds a method to use these exploration abilities even when the associated Companion is not in your party"

An example of a companion's unique exploration ability is that Emmrich has an ability to briefly reanimate skeletons to open gates

Qunari not wearing helmets and only vitaar allows more flexibility when it comes to horns customization in CC

"yes - there will be some pretty obvious Act breaks. Not all content fits neatly into these buckets, as it's more a way of breaking up the critical path (companion and other side content follows a different cadence), but there are some pretty obvious Acts built into our game. A lot of the missions, though, we want to make sure players have the freedom to decide what they do and when they do it, so while they may have internal acts (follower missions form their own arcs), they don't conform to the overall main quest arcs"

The difference in the answer to the is Assan the only griffon question confirms that Assan was specifically one of the baby griffons that hatched at the end of Last Flight. (as opposed to another clutch that was laid in the last decade)

Old:

"So, again, just to be clear, spoilers, but yeah, Assan has brothers and sisters, so Assan is not the only griffon that shows up in Dragon Age The Veilguard."

New:

"If you read Last Flight, you'll know that Assan isn't the only griffon from that clutch of eggs, so he's got brothers and sisters. And if one griffon is good, a whole family of them is better, right?"

"We briefly experimented with other options for last names but it became unwieldy as we do refer to your Rook by their last name on several occasions, and accounting for 6 potential last names is already a lot of complexity."

Variation of the 'what goes into bringing back old characters' question answer:

"We always - both for Morrigan and any other characters we bring back - think about what they would've been up to since the last time anyone saw them. These characters should feel like real people, and the last thing we want to imply is that their stories stalled out while they weren't directly in the player's adventuring party. So we look at their arc before the time skip, and then think about where that arc would've taken them. In the case of Morrigan, she's coming to terms with a lot of truths about herself and about her mother. There are elements of her past that she's come to terms with, which is why she wears a version of Flemeth's crown. Ultimately you want the world to feel like it's real. And no one's the same person today that they were 10 years ago. That's stagnation, and it's bad in fictional characters as it is in real people."

The orb part of orb and dagger is called an Elemental Orb

Variation on the Dalish Elf vs City Elf question answer:

"While I think 'city elf' vs 'Dalish elf' is a useful distinction in the South, there's a lot more nuance in the North. Rivain, for example, has Dalish settlements intertwined with other cities. There's just not the same separation, so each of the factions has a unique approach to your lineage. You can define some of that further with choices you make in conversations - we really wanted to leave a lot of that open to players to RP."

[localization question answer variation] "Games are so complex and have so many moving pieces that you need to be in regular communication or things get missed. And a lot of that is because ultimately localization is more than just a straightforward translation. Jokes, metaphors, sayings - even specific lore terms - aren't just a matter of finding the equivalent word in another language. Every writer has a story about a time they had to explain the specifics of an off-color joke they wrote so that localization could properly capture the intent."

So mostly variations (as in rephrasing) and things, but some of the new info that particularly stood out to me was things like the description of Emmrich's exploration ability, the mention that the Floating Building is the Archon's Palace (iirc this was speculated before but not confirmed?), the new lil details or insights on Assan and Davrin, the bit about Assan being from the Last Flight eggs, etc.

[fictionadventurer]

For all the talk about bad Christian fiction, I've seen several different ways that Christianity can be well-integrated into the story.

The story is about something unrelated to Christianity, but the characters are Christian and their faith affects their outlook and daily life. I recently stumbled across Wormwood Abbey by Christina Baehr, which is a light, fairly forgettable cozy fantasy that happens to do this really well. The story is about a woman who learns that dragons exist around her family's estate, but as the daughter of a rector, she often mentions prayer, sings religious songs, or thinks of Bible verses that relate to things she experiences. The Christianity feels organic to the character, and thus enhances the story rather than distracting from it.

The world is a Christian world where Christian beliefs are shown to be the correct framework through which to view the world. This happens in good Christian fantasy, like Lewis and Tolkien, but there are plenty of real-world stories where the themes line up with Christian truths, and this can make a story Christian whether or not religion is explicitly practiced by characters within the story.

The characters wrestle with how to apply their faith in their daily lives. Regina Doman's Fairy Tale Novels often feature this, as the characters struggle to deal with plot problems while living out their faith. Amy Lynn Green's work often features this as well--characters hold certain values (like, for instance, a Quaker pacifist) and have to figure out how they apply or don't apply to specific situations, especially when they conflict with other values, or they have to figure out how to live out their values (such as forgiveness) in moments where it seems impossible or even ill-advised. Charlotte Yonge's best works (specifically, what I've read of The Three Brides) do this as well--instead of preaching the one right answer, you have characters trying to figure out what the best answer is as they figure out what's right or wrong in this specific situation.

Characters face the revelation that there's a spiritual world that exists beyond our ordinary world, which can cause terror, but also provide comfort and hope. Elizabeth Goudge's novels often exist in this space, with very internal stories of characters coming to embrace the truths that come with living in a spiritual world. To a lesser extent, I'd say Amanda Dykes' work often fits here, with characters ultimately find comfort and hope from philosophies that line up with Christian truth. In less-cozy works, there's also the possibility of stories where an entirely secular person encounters God and has to figure out what that means for their life.

So our options are Christianity as character, Christianity as setting, Christianity as theme, or Christianity as plot. The ways this is integrated most seamlessly is when Christianity (or the ways they struggle with it) is a vital part of the character, so the plot that arises from it lines up with a Christian worldview. It also works well for the characters to just exist within a world where Christian truths are the way the world works. It doesn't even necessarily require the characters to be explicitly religious. Truth is something that everyone is searching for, and stories that honestly showcase truth or the search for it are going to resonate with a wide audience, even if they aren't Christian themselves.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

you're a mean one, mr. miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and ellie decide the solution to joel's grinch-like approach to the holidays lies in finding him the perfect gift

warnings: jackson era, grumpy old man!joel, significant other!reader, fluff, mild angst, gift giving, christmas at the miller's, so many polaroids

word count: 3.8k

12 days of pedro masterlist - ty to @hellishjoel for organizing this project <3

The Miller household always gets a little tense around the holidays. When the days shorten and snow begins to fall, Joel throws himself into patrols and plans for winter-proofing Jackson, and it's all he'll talk about for months. It's obvious he does it on purpose.��

Christmas is basically an unspoken no-no under his roof, and there might as well be a swear jar for the word if his reaction is any indication. He refuses to acknowledge it and only tolerates the day itself because he knows it makes you and Ellie happy. 

You just wish it made him happy, too. You know it used to. Every year, Tommy regales stories about their Christmases in Austin as kids, and later with Sarah. Joel loved Christmas. 

They used to visit the tree farm, pick the tallest, fullest tree they could fit in their living room, and decorate it the very same day. Their attic and even parts of their garage were home to lights and tinsel in every color you could think of, and ornaments Sarah brought home from art classes and the yearly holiday fair at school.

All of that changed after the outbreak. It wasn't just her passing that did it. It wasn't even the threat of death or worse lurking around every corner. It was time. 

Joel just got used to life without it. After 22 years of missed holidays, he decided he didn't actually miss them at all. He couldn't afford to spare precious resources or energy on anything that wasn't necessary for survival. But that isn't the point of Christmas, is it? 

You celebrate your loved ones and their joy. You celebrate life. Here in Jackson, he finally has all of that, but if Joel is anything, he's a stubborn man set in his ways. You can tell he's still resistant to the idea because he genuinely believes there are better uses for his time.

You can also tell he's afraid to let his guard down. You just haven't figured out a way to show him he doesn't have to be. No one's safety is guaranteed in the world you live in, but you're protected now. And that responsibility isn't solely on him anymore.

If you could give him anything for Christmas this year, it would be peace. One day, even just a few hours of tensionless shoulders and a wrinkle-free brow would be a gift for all of you. He deserves to enjoy something merry and cheerful again, just for the sake of it.  

So, you ask the person who knows him best in the world for help.

"What do we think about getting Joel a Christmas gift this year?"

Ellie glances up from her guitar with the most incredulous look you've ever seen on her face. 

"Depends. Do you have a death wish?" she jokes, draping her arm over her instrument so she's sitting more comfortably. She's settling in—you both know this is about to be a painful conversation.

"No, but—," you sigh, leaning against the door behind you. It's still chilled, even through your coat, from when you barged into the shed and interrupted her practice. "I don't know. He wouldn't make that big of a deal, would he? It doesn't have to be anything flashy, just something small. Something nice."

"So, you wanna get Joel something nice for a holiday he hates? That makes total sense," she says, rolling her eyes.

You don't appreciate the sarcasm, but you expected it. She knows as well as you do that Joel won't be thrilled by the gesture, if he even accepts it.

"El, come on. I could really use your help here," you try to appeal to the part of her that usually can't say no to you, and thankfully she's starting to cave. "If there's anyone who can come up with a present Joel will actually like, it's you."

She sighs. Her fingers drum an arrhythmic beat on the wood grain while she thinks, a habit she must've picked up from Joel.

"Look, Joel's not really a 'thing' kinda guy," she replies, and she's probably right. He's never been the kind of guy who has physical attachments. "When's the last time he actually gave a shit when something broke or got lost? Even his watch is broken."

"Yeah, but that's different. You know it's different," you counter softly. But you can see the point she's trying to make. "Okay, so we don't get him a 'thing'."

She nods, waiting for you to offer another idea, but you're even more stumped than you were when you got here. 

"Maybe you can draw him something?" you grimace, grasping at straws now.

"His house is full of shit I've drawn," she deadpans. "Plus, I thought this was an us gift. That sounds like a 'me doing all the work' gift."

You let out a frustrated groan, and your head thunks dully against the door. You knew this wasn't going to be an easy task, but you thought it would at least be possible. Joel's a complicated man—it's one of the things you love most about him—but his wants and needs are surprisingly simple. 

He loves a home-cooked meal, especially meat and potatoes. He enjoys cold beers with Tommy on the porch during the summer and walking Ellie through complicated picking patterns when she's stuck on a song. He likes relaxing on the couch and watching old Westerns or cheesy action movies, and craves your body, soft and pliant, under his after a frustrating day on patrol.

But you want this to mean more than any of that. A special something that goes beyond the norm to loosen some of the springs that keep him wound up tight and constantly in motion. 

You glance around Ellie's space as your hope begins to dwindle, and the corkboard above her bed catches your eye. It's always been there, covered in doodled-on scrap paper and photos of her family and friends, and you're positive you've seen it hundreds of times since you've been in Jackson. But this time, it gives you an idea. The idea.

"That Polaroid camera you found in Eugene's basement—the one in the library. Does it work?"

Ellie's brows furrow at your sudden question. She clearly didn't expect it, but you're hoping she'll be on board once she finally catches on.

"Uhh, yeah, Cat and I were messing around with it the other day. Worked pretty well for us," she replies hesitantly, pointing at the entertainment console next to you. "It's next to the PlayStation."

Humming in response, you squat in front of the shelf to inspect it. It's in great condition, even better than you expected. Even the flash button lights up and whirs just like you remember. 

Before she can protest, you whip around and snap an extremely candid, brightly lit photo of her. If the look on her face is the same one you just caught on film, then you're already off to a great start.

"Dude, what the fuck? What was that for?" she groans in annoyance, blinking the bright spots out of her vision.  

"A scrapbook," you grin. "For Joel."

She's still glaring at you as she rubs her eyes, but she bites back whatever retort she was about to say. You watch her expectantly as she chews on the idea, relief blooming in your chest when she finally nods.

"I guess that could work," she says slowly, still thinking over the logistics in her head. But then she frowns. "When exactly did you plan on taking all those photos? Not to be a downer, but Christmas is in like, a week."

Damn, she's right again. It'll be hell in a handbasket to fill an entire scrapbook in that amount of time, and even if you manage it, it'll be a half-assed attempt at best.

No, if you're going to do this, then you're going to do it right. No rushed or slapstick presents for the man who already hates Christmas—Joel deserves better than that.

"What if we let Joel do his bah-humbug thing one last time? That's probably his idea of a perfect gift, anyway. Then next year, it'll be this," you hand her the fully-developed Polaroid.

It shows Ellie hugging the guitar Joel made for her, but there's no sign of the shocked annoyance that followed the camera flash. Instead, she's smiling. She has that rare, unguarded expression on her face, the one reserved only for people she trusts. It's a tender moment of peace, forever frozen in time.

She looks up at you, and you can see it in her eyes. She gets it, now.

"You do realize it's still a 'thing' present though, right?" she interjects playfully, and you have to resist the urge to grab the wood polishing cloth on the table next to you and swat her with it.

"Yeah, but it's a sappy thing. Admit it, Joel's a huge sap and you know it. You said it yourself, his house is basically a glorified fridge with your art magnetized to the walls."

She rolls her eyes again, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips. She knows it's true.

"So, you'll help me?" you ask, daring to hope that she'll agree.

"As long as you don't pull this shit again, I'll do whatever you want," she lifts the Polaroid, shooting you a dirty, but affectionate look before handing it back to you.

A grin breaks out across your face, and you bolt across the room to hug her awkwardly around the instrument still sitting in her lap. She places it down so she can wrap her arms around you properly. 

Physical affection has never really been Ellie's thing but if you catch her at the right moment on the right day, you might get lucky. Today, you do.

"So, when do we get started?" she asks, pulling away.

"Right now," you reply, unable to contain your excitement. For the first time in over two decades, Joel Miller might actually have a merry Christmas, and that's something to celebrate. 

"Now?" she gapes at you, looking over her shoulder longingly at her guitar as you drag her out of the shed. She barely has enough time to grab a coat before you're out in the cold with nothing but each other, a camera, and a plan.

"Now." 

ONE YEAR LATER

Jackson in the spring is one of the most beautiful things you've ever seen, even among your memories of the world pre-outbreak. Snow remains on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the foliage below blooms with the promise of warmer weather. Somehow, you managed to capture it all—fresh flowers in the shop windows, friends and neighbors shedding their coats and congregating in the streets, and the post-winter excitement that spreads more and more with each sunny day. 

You hid the stack of photographs in an empty jumbo box of tampons in the hall closet, positive they’d be safe from Joel’s prying eyes while you and Ellie continued your mission.

In the summer, two new foals were born, and Ellie and Maria spent almost every day at the stables to help out where they could. They even named them—Shimmer was Maria’s choice, and Ellie named the other Callus just to piss off Joel. Not only did it work, but it resulted in some of the cutest pictures of the season. 

Joel and Tommy built a porch swing for Maria and their rambunctious toddler and spent countless balmy nights drinking Tommy's extra-strength whiskey and shooting the shit. They even broke out their guitars every so often and managed to bully Ellie into playing with them once or twice. You caught that on camera, too. 

Slowly but surely, the memory box filled up, and the photos were transferred to a scrapbook you and Ellie made yourselves—with a little local help. One of the school teachers happened to be a former librarian with a bookbinding hobby, and graciously gave you a treasure trove of old, tattered books that were perfect for your project. 

By autumn, everything was falling into place. Ellie adorned those pages with painted leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow to complement the photos you took at the town’s annual Harvest Festival and Thanksgiving potluck. You hopped around from booth to booth, table to table, and thanked your lucky stars that Eugene was a hoarder and held onto every pack of film he found over the years.

Now, it's the night before Christmas and you have a single shot left. One last photo intended for the final page, but you can’t think of anything you haven’t already documented. Looking around Tommy’s living room, there are plenty of moments you’d love to capture, and yet none of them feel like the moment. 

How the Grinch Stole Christmas plays in the background while you sit on their couch, curled into Joel’s side with Ellie’s head on your lap, but you’re barely paying attention, still lost in your thoughts. Joel isn’t paying attention, either—he was unsurprisingly averse to the movie to begin with—so when you don’t laugh along with everyone else at the Grinch’s antics, he immediately knows something’s up. He kisses your temple, careful not to jostle Ellie.

“What’s got you so in your head you’re not even laughin’ at Jim Carrey? I thought you loved this movie,” he murmurs against the shell of your ear. His familiar Southern twang somehow warms you up more than the fireplace crackling next to the television. 

“I do. I think I’m just getting a little sleepy, is all,” you reply softly, sagging into him. “Winter dance prep sucked this week. It’s like everyone conveniently forgot they volunteered to help.”

He nods, mumbling an apology into your hair.

“Guess that makes sense. All that runnin’ around you’ve been doing with that camera of yours probably ain’t helpin’ either,” he says offhandedly, and your brows furrow in response.

It’s not the first time he’s mentioned your sudden interest in photography, but with his gift sitting less than 10 feet away under Tommy and Maria’s Christmas tree, it seems more than a little suspicious. You catch Ellie glancing up at you in your peripheral, and you meet her gaze as discreetly as you can.

“Yeah, maybe,” you laugh it off, hoping it doesn’t sound as tense to Joel’s ears as it does to yours.

“What are you doin’ with all of those photos anyway? I swear, you take ‘em and then they disappear into thin air,” he presses on, none the wiser.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you joke, shaking your head as if that’ll shake off all of his incoming questions. But it doesn’t work nearly as well as you hoped.

“Y’know, I was wonderin’ that myself,” Tommy interjects from the recliner to your right. “You’ve been takin’ photo after photo for almost a year, and I don’t think I’ve seen a single one.”

Maria scoffs next to him, coming to the rescue before you’re forced to come up with a believable explanation. 

“Mind your own damn business,” she smacks him in the chest, then shoots you a sympathetic look. 

You asked for her help not long after you and Ellie started planning Joel’s gift, so she knows how important this is. The last thing she’s going to do is let her husband’s need to stir the pot ruin it. But Tommy’s not the type of guy to give in that easily.

“I’m just sayin’, might be nice take a look at ‘em. You probably got some good ones of the kids in there, ‘specially from birthdays and holidays—,” he manages to get out before Ellie cuts him off.

“Can you guys have this conversation somewhere else? Some of us are actually trying to watch the movie,” she sits up from her spot on your lap to glare in his direction. 

Then, Tommy abruptly stands like something just occurred to him and strides across the room to the mantle above the fireplace—right where you set the camera down earlier. Your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hold up. This thing’s still got one shot left, don’t it?” he asks excitedly, and you’re not sure how to shut him down without drawing too much attention to yourself or sounding mildly hysterical.

“Well, yeah, but—“

“Oh shit, s’got a timer and everythin’,” he continues, fiddling with its limited settings. He turns back towards the rest of the group and holds up the camera with a grin. “C’mon, everybody get together. We’re takin’ our first official Christmas card photo.”

“But, Tommy—,” you try again, but you’re drowned out by Joel’s sad attempt to leave the room.

“Look, I said I’d watch the movie, but I sure as hell didn’t agree to take a damn Christmas photo,” he grumbles, moving to stand, but you latch onto his flannel before he gets too far. He softens at your downtrodden expression and settles back in.

“Just to be clear, m’doin this for her, not for you,” he amends his previous statement gruffly, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You kiss his cheek gratefully, and Ellie pretends to gag as she shuffles to sit between your legs.

“Whatever you say, big brother. All you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. Think you can handle that?” Tommy teases him, making one final adjustment to the camera's placement. “Alright y’all, here we go.”

He sets the timer, then runs to the couch, squishing into the only available spot between Maria and an armrest. Everyone huddles together with varying levels of smiles and grimaces on their faces while you wait for the camera to go off. Except, it doesn't.

“Wait, how long did you set the timer for?” you peer around Maria to see Tommy looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“…Does it not just go 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, shoot?” he asks sheepishly.

"Oh my god, are you kidding me?" Ellie groans, leaning back against you, and the entire couch bursts out laughing. 

And in that moment, the flash goes off.

Yeah, this is the one.

The photo in your hands feels like the culmination of every memory you made and preserved in the past year. Five faces—and one tiny sleeping one—look up at you, fully developed and as happy as you've ever seen them.

Tommy and Maria sit side by side with their son in her lap, their heads thrown back in laughter. Next to them, Ellie sits between your legs, mid-knee slap, as you cackle with your chin resting on top of her head.

And then there's Joel, grinning from ear to ear as he looks on at the family he's fought so hard to protect. The family that's safe and sound, and enjoying an ordinarily special day, just for the sake of it. You can only hope that a book full of photos and everything it represents will be enough to convince him once and for all that it's the truth.

As you slide the final Polaroid into place, Joel sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

"What's all this?" he watches curiously as you close the book and swipe your hand lovingly across the cover. Then, you pick it up and turn in his embrace, leaning back against the kitchen counter. 

"A gift," you reply carefully, hugging it to your chest. 

You glance over to where Ellie's still sitting in the living room, but she shakes her head and offers you a small smile, her delicate way of telling you that you're on your own. You take a deep breath before continuing.

"It's a Christmas present from me and Ellie," you explain, hoping to convey even a fraction of what this means to you. "Look, we know this isn’t necessarily your favorite day, but...we still wanted to do something nice for you."

He nods, his expression frustratingly unreadable. But then he does something unexpected.

"Y'gonna keep huggin' it or are you gonna show it to me?" he drawls jokingly, and your brows shoot up in shock.

"You wanna see it?" 

His face falls, and you immediately feel terrible at the brief wave of hurt that crosses his features. You didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you didn't anticipate this easy acceptance.

"'Course I do. The two of you spent a whole year workin' on this thing, why wouldn't I?"

That grin you know he loves lights up your entire face, and you turn to place his gift back on the counter. Flipping to the first page, you step aside and let him explore it for himself.

He takes in each moment of each season slowly, running his fingers across Ellie's doodles between photos and in the margins. Spring is framed by butterflies that you're somehow just realizing are painted in all of Sarah's favorite colors. 

Ellie added so many painstaking details you'd never talked about. You're not even sure how she knew something like that, but you're grateful it's there. Joel notices it too, and reaches down to take your hand, gripping it tightly for the rest of the book. 

He's silent as flips through summer and fall, and when he finally reaches winter, you feel him begin to tremble beside you. 

The last page sits open in front of you, the photo from earlier flanked on either side by notes from you and Ellie. As he reads, then rereads them, you can see the cogs turning. He's starting to understand why you did this—and how something as simple as a photograph isn't just a look back on a life well-lived. It's a reminder to keep living.

“This is…,” his brows furrow as he tries to find the words to express the conflicting thoughts racing through his head.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t get you anything," is what he ultimately settles on, but when he looks up at you, his eyes are wet. You immediately drop his hand to cup his cheeks.

"You didn't need to. I have everything I've ever wanted right here," you tell him gently, brushing away the tears threatening to fall. 

You glance over at the familiar faces in the living room, the same ones looking up at you from the page below, and he follows your gaze. The tension in his body begins to bleed away the longer he watches them, and you learn the wrinkle in his brow isn't actually the permanent fixture it always seemed to be.

He reaches up to cover one of your hands with his own, and you can feel his heart racing through his fingertips. In the back of your mind, you wonder if this is the moment it happens. If his heart grew three sizes bigger today, and if he's finally ready to give himself the gift of peace.

“Merry Christmas, Joel Miller," you whisper, kissing him deeply as the sweet voice of Cindy Lou Who brings the movie credits rolling in the distance to a close.

thanks for reading and happy holidays!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[kitasgloves]

"Bound"

tracklist

— ♬ "You realize how fine she is. She's just what you've been looking for"

— ♬ Ushijima x Reader, SFW, timeskip, fem reader, strangers to friends to lovers, no beta

Usually, Ushijima Wakatoshi left no room for miscalculation. For a long time, he lived with logic and facts. He made no unnecessary actions and did what he thought was fit. He received comments calling him some robot, he understood where it came from but never understood if it was supposed to be a form of insult or harmless teasing. Nonetheless, he paid no attention to it. On the other hand, Ushijima received countless compliments regarding his looks and appreciated it to a certain extent. However, others had way more time in their hands to waste screaming deranged sentences about how they were 'down bad' or 'thirsting' over his physical physic. Ushijima doesn't want to elaborate further on how he felt about those sides of his fanbase.

The athlete had a stable support system from his father and friends, he's endlessly grateful for their support. Ushijima found himself contented with the people he surrounded himself with, he wasn't the kind to linger in crowds but rather the crowd tended to linger around him. After all, he was a famous athlete so he thought it was natural. People often approaching him for photos or autographs wasn't out of the norm but when you decided to approach him one evening, Ushijima was admittedly astonished.

"Hello"

You started with a mere hello. Ushijima peered to his left and saw you standing there with your glimmering dress and lipgloss shining under the chandelier lights. Tonight was an official gathering for Volleyball athletes, the program ended thirty-five minutes ago and everyone was free to scatter around and enjoy the evening. Fortunately, interviewers or the annoying paparazzi weren't allowed inside the venue.

"Hello"

Ushijima greeted back, he thought it was only polite. He didn't recognize you so you weren't an athlete, perhaps you were one of the staff, or maybe one of the organizers of the event.

"I'm [Surname] [Name]"

"Ushijima Wakatoshi"

"Oh, I know. Everybody knows the famous UshiWaka"

Then he learns your name and he instinctively replies with his. Of course, you knew him and he's used to people knowing who he was. Fame doesn't phase him. But what strikes him as perplexed is why you have decided to approach him.

"Would you like an autograph or a photo?"

"Oh, no thank you! I was wondering if you fancy chatting with me"

"Hm"

He hummed, he thought it was harmless. He finishes his champagne and waits for you to talk, but you only stare at him through your thick lashes and sweet smile. Were you waiting for him to speak first? Now, he has no problem with that but he has to admit that he doesn't do it often. Ushijima adjusts his bowtie and clears his throat.

"How are you finding this evening?"

"Great! I hope you enjoyed your time here"

"Everything is well"

You nodded but didn't reply after. Ushijima finds it odd that his mind is scrambling to keep the conversation alive knowing he could stop talking if he wishes to and wait for you to walk away. But somehow, he doesn't want you to leave. So, the athlete racks his clever mind for anything to say to make you stay longer.

"Do you like chocolates, [Surname]-san?"

"Yes, I do"

"What do you think about volleyball?"

"I think it's a fantastic sport"

He asks you innocent questions to get you to open up and surprisingly it keeps the conversation going. Later, you start spurring hilarious stories about your friends and he'll take note of every detail. You'd share about the music you listen to and he finds your music taste similar to his as he'd share his input about his favorite songs. You and he talked and talked until the venue slowly emptied. You found your cue to leave but Ushijima frowns at that, he insists on walking you out and calling a ride for you.

"You're incredibly sweet, Ushijima-san"

"You can call me Wakatoshi"

"Okay, Wakatoshi"

You winked and Ushijima felt his chest flutter. He opened the car door for you as you waved him goodbye. He wonders when will he see you again because he keeps thinking about you that evening until his head rests on his pillow. He had no idea where to contact you until he brought your name up to Kuroo Tetsuro and by his luck, you happened to be his co-worker. Ushijima had a hold on your number within seconds thanks to Kuroo.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"This is Wakatoshi"

Ushijima can hear you gasping and falling out of your chair dramatically. There were a few chaotic noises on the other line until he heard your voice again. His chest flutters like it did previously.

"Hi! Did you need something? How did you get my number?"

"I got it from Kuroo"

"That sly cat..."

"I was wondering if you're free to eat dinner with me tomorrow evening"

"You want to eat dinner with me...?"

"Yes"

"Oh, what an honor! Sure! I'll go"

Your answer makes the corner of Ushijima's lips quirk up, it was so unusual that even he was taken aback. He consulted with Tendou Satori afterward via phone call and told him everything, he asked if he did the right thing. His best friend only laughs.

"Just do whatever makes your heartbeat go faster, Wakatoshi-kun"

Ushijima didn't understand it at first but when he finally sees you that evening, his heartbeat spikes up. You were wearing one of those dresses that makes him gulp. When you wrap your hand around his arm and go inside the restaurant, Ushijima gets the similar feeling he gets when he's playing on the volleyball court. During dinner, he notices your finer qualities. And the magic of your rare personality.

When dinner is finished, Ushijima lends you his coat when the evening gets windy. You keep his coat until he takes you home. That evening you reached to the tip of your toes to peck him on the cheek before softly shutting your door. Ushijima stood in front of the door, rigid. His hand creeps up to his cheek where you have kissed him. Suddenly, his face feels warm and his chest palpitates wildly. If he hadn't known any better, he thinks he's going down with something.

But he knew what this was. He has read the shoujo mangas Tendou was recommending to him and watched the romcoms available on his television. Ushijima was falling in love. It seemed so foreign yet natural to experience it for the first time. He never prioritized romance during his high school days, having a girlfriend never crossed his mind. However, when you came into the picture, he thought he wouldn't mind having you as his girlfriend.

Ushijima takes his time to woo you, to see if you could return his feelings. He took you to meet his friends, he asked you to have dinner with his father, and he'd even gone far as to bring you to Paris with him to visit Tendou. On the trip back to the country, Ushijima knew he was head over heels for you. He asks what your sign is and he'll find you two are compatible. He realizes how fine you are. You were just what he was looking for.

Everything you did affected him greatly, you plagued his mind with your smile and scent, and he couldn't imagine another lifetime where he didn't meet you. So, as he asked you out on an aquarium date, he specified it was a date and not just one of your random hangouts, and you said yes, Ushijima felt so happy that he could do twenty sets of a volleyball match.

His cheeks ached from smiling as you pointed out every sea creature you saw and yelled out its name. His phone gallery was filled with pictures of you in every moment. When he admires the colorful jellyfish with you, he sucks in a breath and snakes a hand around your back. His heart skips a beat when you lean against him.

"Isn't this nice?"

"It is. I want to do this with you all the time"

"Me too, 'Toshi"

"[Name]?"

"Yeah?"

"I like you"

You turn your head to face him and giggle. Ushijima couldn't deny it, he was bound to falling in love. He was bound to fall in love with you.

"I like you too, 'Toshi"

"So, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Of course, ya goofball!"

When Ushijima looks at you it is visible in his eyes. He was beyond lovestruck with you. From the tenderness in his features and the brightness of his smile. His heart wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[internetskiff]

I've sometimes seen this sentiment, especially among reviewers, that SOMA's WAU ""monster plot"" contributes nothing to the main game's story, and that the storyline would infact benefit from the WAU's removal. If you ask me, that couldn't be further from the truth. The WAU is at the root of everything. Frankly, it's the main reason the game's moral dilemmas are.. well, dilemmas at all. If the WAU wasn't making monsters, wasn't there to warp the life around Pathos-II as it saw fit, the game wouldn't have even started. Pathos-II would've just remained dormant forever. Simon wouldn't be there, and neither would any of the obstacles he faces on his journey to preserve humanity. The main reason the WAU isn't directly beneficial to Earth is exactly because its understanding of "life" is so skewed. Its not just bringing things back - its bringing them back incorrectly. Every single "monster" we meet builds a case both against and for the WAU's continued existence.

The Construct shows the WAU's failure to understand humanity in the physical sense, shoving a Human brain scan into a misshapen robot body and calling it a day, leaving it to babble to itself as it aimlessly wanders the halls of Upsilon.

The same could be said for Carl Semken and the other Mockingbirds, though to a lesser degree - though capable of speech, they're still very delusional and oftentimes end up going insane. Still, in some ways you see the WAU's understanding of human psychology progress with each new mockingbird - they become increasingly coherent and increasingly sane, Catherine and Robin Bass being great examples. While the Construct has lost so much of itself you can no longer tell who it used to be, the other Mockingbirds have their sense of self intact. With the WAU's unreliable nature cemented, we move on to its attempts at preserving humans physically, with Amy Azarro being the first proper example Simon gets to witness.

She's kept alive in what seems to be a perpetual state of discomfort, and judging by the structure gel slowly overtaking her I believe the WAU may be slowly converting her into one of the Fleshers. Its keeping her alive, yes, but its doing so at any cost necessary - it doesn't matter if she's in constant pain as long as she doesn't flatline. Its treatment of actual organisms is practically an inversion of its treatment of the Mockingbirds - instead of prioritizing the mental wellbeing of the subject, the WAU prioritizes their physical wellbeing with little to no care for the mental state its "patient" is in the entire time.

Fleshers live and breathe, but they seemingly aren't "all there" at all. The lights are on, but no one's home anymore. All they do is wander the ruins of the CURIE and lash out at anyone who enters their territory - the WAU has basically reduced them to animals.

Terry's been driven insane from all the structure gel infesting his insides, and though his goal was "technically" benevolent (putting everyone into a permanent dream state where the WAU could make them live the best possible versions of their lives), he achieved it through incredibly violent means, conducting what was basically an attack on Theta and causing its downfall. So far, its attempts at preserving humans physically have simply resulted in increasingly grotesque and violent monstrosities - but I would argue you see that begin to change when Simon reaches Omicron.

When you reach it, you see the aftermath of a particularly gruesome procedure WAU had carried out - everyone's blackboxes have exploded, turning their heads to mush. We find out that one of the employees, with the help of someone particularly close to the WAU, had figured out how to poison it. They have been receiving "visions" and "messages" from a comatose Johan Ross - the WAU's "AI psychologist", someone it desperately tried to restore from a comatose state by manipulating structure gel with electromagnetic fields. Either the WAU deliberately retaliated when it figured out the poisoning plot, or it had simply overdone it when restoring Johan Ross - sacrificing an entire station's worth of lives to bring someone back. Either way this shows a tremendous amount of intelligence on the WAU's part - and also paints it as either exceptionally cruel or exceptionally empathetic depending on the perspective you view it from. Either it considered Johan so important to it that it was willing to sacrifice most Omicron staff, or it was willing to violently retaliate in order to preserve itself. Either way, Omicron houses what I believe to be a sign of the WAU's steadily improving understanding of humanity - Dr. Johan Ross.

He has been restored with both his physical health and mental faculties (relatively) intact. He isn't violent, and he perfectly understands what condition he is currently in - but despite that he doesn't seem to be physically suffering. He is still driven to eliminate the WAU, but it seems to be less out of personal suffering and more out of fear in regards to the suffering its other creations may go through. I believe he's an example of a semi-perfectly restored human - both him and Simon himself. They're both cases of, as Catherine puts it, "a sound mind in a sound body". But although the signs are there, there is no outright definitive proof that the WAU's creations will only continue to get better.

And that's what makes the game's final moral dilemma so compelling to me. The whole game has been providing us with both evidence and counterevidence towards the WAU's idea of restoring humanity. Now, it's up to you to act as its jury and executioner. By killing it you either stop it from torturing the memory of humanity, or you doom humanity to extinction in all senses of the word. By keeping it alive, you either doom the remnants of humanity to an eternal torturous existence, or you give the WAU a chance at creating something new. There is no way of knowing what choice is correct - because you don't know what the WAU is thinking. You never get to. You don't know its plans, you don't know if it even has the capacity to actually learn from its mistakes, hell, you don't even know if its capable of thought - but here it is. Making things. Terrible things, but there's a chance that it'll only get better with time. Simon himself is evidence of that chance. It has already managed to make what could be classified as a "complete" person. And if you kill it, Simon's going to be the last "complete" person it managed to bring back.

[cartoon-cass]

While re-watching the episodes I think I figured out what the little robot roaches stand for. The show makes it a point to show us how the characters treat the roaches and it clearly has some story implications so here's my take. The robot roaches are a stand in for worker drones and how the characters treat them.

Doll

Doll is the first to be seen with the roaches having her whole house covered in them. We also see she doesn't really care for them both squishing one under foot and exploding one with her powers and licking off the oil off her face. Despite her whole revenge plot against V being because V killed her parents, Doll is pretty nonchalant about killing her fellow worker drones, sometimes for oil while other time just for being in her way.

N

N nearly steps on one before noticing and letting the little one live. at this point in the story N has sworn off killing worker drones, though this is relatively recent development in the story hence why he nearly squishes it.

V

V just sees the robot roach as a little snack and nonchalantly eats it, pretty much how she sees most workers, having no qualms with killing them and drinking there oil.

Uzi

Uzi is interesting as she has 2 different reactions, sort of. In episode 3 she's similar to N she nearly steps on one, notices and makes sure not to crush it and the roach thanks her. In episode 4 how ever she throws her backpack trying to hide that arm from V and accidentally crushes a roach, after she notices what she did she brings it back to life. in this episode she does kill 5 of her class mates though it's clear that she didn't really mean to, it was absolute solver messing with her brain. As for the bringing back to life it might just reinforce it was an accident or will she bring a worker back to life, I guess will have to see.

Cyn/ Absolute Solver

Cyn or, Absolute Solver, which ever one you want to call them, they "stab" a roach that tries to drink from the oil/tea and Cyn tries to drink it, she's not very successful but she tries. Now for the second scene and where my eureka moment came from, her fusing a roach with a human doll, what does Absolute Solver say to Uzi in episode 2, "More like, you are our cute puppets." and here they are making a roach, a stand in for worker drones, into a puppet. It's also interesting that she fuses it with a human doll, because in the same episode J is shown to have a rib cage and human bits, it's clear that Absolute Solver can fuse drones with organic matter.

Bonus Lizzy

She kicks a roach though doesn't kill it, it fits her pretty well I think.

[semisomnosres]

I recently re-watched this show and noticed these villains shown literally for 3 seconds, and then I come to my senses in front of an open canvas and a stylus in my hand

Here is my interpretation of ​​them and a couple of sketches, I'm not very good at coming up with names, but for the sake of decency I added them

(I noticed that only the girl's name was shown, if others also had it somewhere, correct me) In order:

Diego Ansford A bounty hunter and a mercenary for hire, perhaps he doesn't even disdain to organize a robbery of a bank that he just met along the way. Judging by his suit, he is not one of those who prefers to carry out tasks quietly, but rather kick down the door and throw grenades for fun, and after 10 minutes there is not a single intact place left inside the building.

W. KING (Willow) She was on Van Rook's client list, maybe she's a collector of ancient artifacts (perhaps it was to her that Van Rook wanted to sell those artifacts from the burial mounds) And now she's in a VERY tense relationship with Abbey (I don't know why, I just wanted to :) so much so that not a single event where these two are together goes by without at least one clump of torn hair.

Dr. Gelfand A bioengineer and neurosurgeon, almost completely fits the description of a "mad scientist" He didn't lose his arm and there is no tragic story about it, he replaced it with a prosthesis himself to make his work easier. He actively buys up cryptids for his experiments (I can imagine how angry Saturdays will be if they meet him. If he had his way, he would have already studied Zak's brain under a microscope.) And I don't know why, but while drawing a sketch with a shot knee, I came up with some kind of friendship between them (?) Where one, many years ago, foolishly gave the other a small amount of money and he hasn't returned it for 20 years. He doesn't even hope that the other will ever return it, but asking at every meeting "what happened to the money" and the other refusing to return it in any way has already become a tradition at the greeting level

Eitor Bergler He became a cyborg after an accident, maybe after a shipwreck. He terrorizes many sea routes and if a ship with valuable contents suddenly disappears, then with a high probability he is involved in it.

Yamamoto Kirahara We have already been shown intelligent cryptids (Argost and the Kumaris) and I got the idea to make him also an intelligent cryptid from the race of mole people. (at first I wanted to make the man a rat, but in the background I had "Inside Job" it talked about mole people) I see him as a businessman who got so rich that he acquired almost impenetrable immunity to the law and has great influence in the criminal world. He doesn't act like Argost, but more covertly

[stu-dyingstudent]

Sakura Haruno fic recs: ANBU

AHHHH!!!! I love ANBU fics, especially when they involve Sakura. It was such a cool concept, which was unfortunately never fully expanded upon. However, our lack of knowledge regarding the shadow corps allows for some really cool fic ideas since authors can take creative liberty on the structure and workings of the division.

In my opinion, Sakura had the most potential out of team 7 to join ANBU (at least more than Naruto). It's all about being discreet and efficient and although she wasn't strong during og, she possessed abilities that would be valuable for this. Her clever mind, chakra control, and genjutsu potential would've made her a good fit. Naruto was too flamboyant and Sasuke was too reckless and cocky, but this is just my take. However, with her new skill set from her training with Tsunade, I don't think she would be able to go down that path anymore.

Started: 2024.08.06

Last Updated: 2024.08.29

note: feel free to check out my master list which has a bunch of Sakura Haruno fic recs (all organized)!

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Masks by mads999 || ao3 || kakasaku || E || canon divergent || complete

1. Sakura's Inner is far more diabolical than anyone ever expected 2. Crows prove to be cruel mentors 3. Sakura comes to learn exactly how much she hates Kakashi (as well as how alike they are, in the most terrible of ways)

Kakashi is a hateful turd and Sakura is spiteful! I hate this ship and I'm not a big fan of Kakashi here, but boy is this fic good. One of the best character developments I've read for Sakura and she certainly becomes of force to be reconned with. The ANBU lore in Masks is absolutely phenomenal and I love the whole system that is put into place as it adds for some drama (lol). Also, can we talk about how awesome crow summons are????

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Five Kingdoms for the Dead - Evil Is A Relative Term || ffn || M || canon divergence || complete

After the Forest of Death, Sakura comes to realize that being weak is no longer an option. However, she finds that change is sometimes painful and that truth doesn't always come easy. Luckily, she'll have some help along the way.

It's been a while since I've read Five Kingdoms for the Dead, but I just remember it being absolutely great! I'll be honest, I found a lot of the mind stuff pretty confusing at times, but it was still enjoyable. Also, some great characters are utilized in this fic such as Neji, Sai, and Itachi. Makes me really wish that we saw more of Sakura and Neji working together in Naruto since I think they compliment each other quite well.

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Trials of Change - Espoiretreves || ao3 || gen || time travel AU || complete

Haruno Sakura made a promise. Looking in the eyes of her Shisou and the reanimated Hokage, she took on the most important mission of her life. Go back in time and try to prevent the 4th Shinobi War. Now, Sakura is back to her 5-year-old body, with all the knowledge and haunting memories of the future. She vows to keep her precious people safe and stop certain events from happening, without altering the timeline too much. The trials her emotions and logic put her through have her questioning her very existence, but for the sake of peace, she has to push forward. No matter what.

Trials of Change is actually apart of a time travel series and I have to say that it is probably one of the best of the genre! Now, Sakura is not in ANBU here, but she works very closely with team Ro (Kakashi's ANBU team) and it's a huge part of the story, so I'm choosing to count it anyway. I really adore all of the worldbuilding and backstories going on here in addition to the fact that there are breaks. Yes, the story keeps moving, but there are other things going on, like playdates, and not just Sakura trying to save the world. Also, if you love Shisui then definitely check this out since he has a huge role and his and Sakura's friendship is just so precious.

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bite me and see, said the fly to the spider - MirrorImage003 || ao3 || itasaku || T || non-massacre AU || ongoing

In which Sakura is not initially a part of Team 7. In which she wears her failures like armor and brandishes her fears like her most trusted weapons. In which I do what hundreds of other authors have done before me, and rewrite Sakura's story. Non-massacre AU. Canon Divergent. Slow-burn.

After Sakura's first team, consisting of the graduating class's "expendables," dies, she joins team 7 and faces backlash along her shinobi journey. Sakura doesn't join ANBU until the later chapters so fair warning that there isn't too much content in that regards (unless it updates). Nonetheless, Sakura views ANBU as vital to her career as it offers her the highest clearance she can get. Gaining her opportunities for information her civilian-born status didn't allow her privy to.

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The Sixth Shadow - thinknicht || ao3 || kakasaku || M || canon divergent - eventual time travel AU || ongoing

No one seemed to find it odd when little Haruno Sakura threw herself smack dab in front of a Chidori and Rasengan. Not even Kakashi stopped to wonder.(He really should have.)

The story of how Sakura came to be the sixth hogake despite all of the challenges thrown her way. I especially love Sakura's drive in addition to the political aspects. However, be warned that Kakashi is an absolute HATER (in the beginning), but he gets better! The Sixth Shadow is extremely long and I only just recently got to Sakura's introduction to ANBU, so I can't say too much in that regard.

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Daughter of Fire - justjstuff || ao3 || kakasaku || E || canon divergence || incomplete (maybe ongoing)

Sakura got up and didn’t bother brushing the dirt from her dress. She had a feeling she was about to get even dirtier.She looked at the memorial stone one last time, memorizing the characters without even realizing she was doing it. It would serve from that moment on as a reminder of her determination. She wouldn’t let Naruto and Sasuke join the names carved on that stone.That was her nindo.

Sakura's growth throughout Daughter of Fire is great and realistic all while pointing out aspects from the original series which were flawed and dare I say misogynistic. I struggled a bit in the beginning to justify her abilities, but overall the story is really well done and the ANBU aspects are quite intriguing.

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cut the head off the snake - itsthechocopuff || ao3 || T || time travel AU || complete

when eighteen-year-old, post-war Sakura is thrown back into her tiny, pre-Academy body, she makes a decision. she'd had a childhood once already, and this time, she's more interested in Not Dying when the inevitable shit hits the proverbial fan. so she will work harder, care less, kill more, and smile when she's done.and hey, if she ends up reviving an extinct nature transformation to attract the most corrupt, power-hungry man from her timeline, all the better for her, right?

Such a unique take on a time travel AU and Cut the Head Off the Snake executes it perfectly. Sakura decides that her first order of business is to infiltrate ROOT and that's exactly what she does. Sai, Shin, and Shisui are all great characters and team Ro is present as well. Very good!

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Flowers - Idunmy || ao3 || E || kakasaku || canon divergence || ongoing

Flowers only bloom just before they wilt When Sakura loses her fight against Ino in her Chuunin exams, she questions her ability to ever become a kunoichi, too weak to protect herself, let alone her village One wrongful promotion later and Sakura gets a second chance in the shape of a mysterious new teacher who against all odds is willing to put her faith in a young girl with potential and a willingness to fight. Or- a fix-it inspired fic where Sakura grows to be the powerhouse she was destined to become.

Flowers is a newer series (which has recent updates) and I love it! Critiques are made towards the medical ninja training, which I believe needed to be discussed and it's refreshing to see. In most ANBU fics I've read, Sakura is immediately put onto the strongest team, but here it's a bit different. She begins on a demolition squad, which not only suits her skill set quite well, but is a realistic approach to how she would be introduced to the corps. Anyway, it's one of my favorite reads at the moment and I really like where the story is going.

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names. - waterpllar || ao3 || T || gen || canon divergence || complete

There are no names or faces in ANBU. Everything is designed to be strictly formal, efficient and professional. A recently orphaned Sakura, however, learns that some regulations aren't meant to be followed, and finds a place in Team Ro after being shunned from her former teammates. (fic prompt from anon on tumblr: orphaned sakura in anbu with yamato, genma, and team ro.)

AHHHH poor Sakura. After her parents' death Sakura seeks Tsunade's help out of desperation to become useful. Under recommendation, Sakura's new goal is to make it into ANBU.

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Equinox - FM_White || ao3 || itasaku || M || anbu AU || complete

ItaSaku (Post Uchiha Massacre) AU: Climbing through the ranks of Konoha, Sakura finds herself with the invitation to join ANBU and a chance to learn from one of the most renowned and legendary ninja in the world. Despite her efforts to grow stronger however, she finds the world isn't as black and white as it looks and that some truths are easier to hide than others.

I don't remember Equinox very well, but I love most works by this author sooo. Anyway, Itachi stays in Konoha and instead it's Sasuke that goes rougue. Sakura, Naruto, and Shikamaru are newly joined ANBU members and all placed on a team with Itachi and things go from there.

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stars in our eyes as we dream of the heavens (the gods walk among us, sweet child, do not forget) - snickiebear || ao3 || kakasaku || T || age-swap AU || oneshot complete

“Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto whispered, staring at his teacher, horror plain on his face. “You’re married?” Lazily, Kakashi looked down at his gloveless hand where his ring rested, “It would appear so.”

Sakura is born in the same generation as Kakashi and turns out as a badass ANBU married to him. This is super wholesome as it's a lot of the two of them bonding with Kakashi's genin team (Sai makes three) in an effort to help them out. It's a series so you can read more of the events taking place prior to the fic.

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Anachronistic Drift  - Elesrea  || ffn || gen || T || time travel AU || incomplete

Her plan was flawless. Save Shisui. Save the world. Time-travel, Sakura-centric AU

Sakura spends years training to be sent back in time and save the world from Sasuke. She isn't in ANBU, but rather poses as one in order to keep an anonymous status on her doings both in and out of the village.

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Sakura - lilac haze || ffn/ao3 || M || minasaku || time travel AU || complete

AU. Non-Canon. Time Travel. Please see inside for full warnings. Cross posted on Ao3. On his deathbed he was granted eternal peace and place to rest for all of time. Of course that was not appealing to him. Ever unpredictable to the end he had a counter offer. One that the Sage had to consider. In which Sakura's going to have a rough time. A really rough time.

Sakura is probably one of my all time favorite fics because the emotions are just spectacular. The story is pretty heavy on ANBU and ROOT aspects, which I always enjoy, but I wouldn't say it's a major focus. However, there is an emphasis on the unfair treatment towards kunoichi. Anyway, the characterizations and storytelling are beautifully done. Please share this author some love.

Check TWs before hand!!

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Hope y'all enjoy these recs, and please feel free to send me some if you have any!!!! I really appreciate when you do :)

[ouroborosorder]

I once heard someone say that because Arknights' disability representation is mostly tied to their fantasy turbo-cancer, then it doesn't feel like real disabled representation, and I've been unable to get it out of my head, like a piece of popcorn stuck in my teeth. So, rather than doing my homework like I'm supposed to be, I want to talk about why I disagree and why I love Arknights' approach to disability.

So, for those who are unaware, Arknights has a shockingly high amount of disabled characters, and characters who are disabled in a lot of different ways, both caused by being Infected and just being disabled in the way that normal people are. Nightingale has chronic pain, Lemuen is the best sniper in Laterano while being in a wheelchair, Akafuyu is mostly blind, Eyja has severe hearing loss, Rosmontis has severe memory loss, Amiya has very severe PTSD, I could go on and on.

And of course there'd be a lot of operators with disabilities! Rhodes Island is a medical organization dedicated towards long-term care of terminally ill patients. Of course many of them would develop disabilities, and of course Rhodes would have the resources and facilities to help them. They even make notes of how to treat them in their medical files, like how Ejyafjalla's has a little guide on how to best have a conversation with her. It makes perfect sense, but I can't say a lot of games would think about it on that level.

And that why I like this game's approach to disability so much. A lot of video games just treat disability as "someone missing an arm" or "someone in a wheelchair because of Their Injuries From Combat. It's usually treated as an individual thing, just someone who got hurt, or who maybe has a frail constitution or whatever. But in Arknights, disability isn't simply treated as a character trait for individuals, but as part of the worldbuilding itself. The world is largely defined by Oripathy, this fatal degenerative disease with no cure. And the Infected are treated as second-class citizens, considered free labor that they don't have to treat ethically because they're dying anyway. The writers realized that this would cause severe disability, both real and fantastical, and worked it into the story and world.

This runs the other way, too! Arknights' worldbuilding follows a sort of social model of disability, in a way. There's a lot of fantasy stories that treat the inability to use magic as a sort of disability, but to Arknights, it's... not. Because Arts require specialized training, and so a lot of people just don't know how to use them, and might not even know they can't use Arts. So it's not treated as such, even though it is still a physical inability to perform things other people can.

But on the other end, Laterano's culture is based around the Sankta having empathic communication between each other. Mostima, as a fallen angel, can't use this telepathy anymore, and she speaks about how othering it feels sometimes, to be physically unable to engage with an important part of her culture. While it's not explicitly stated as a disability to the Lateran culture, I certainly feel like it's treated as one to some degree. Namely that it's explicitly contrasted with Fiametta's PTSD rendering her unwilling to empathize with the people around her, as opposed to Mostima's physical inability. It's the fantasy disability treated with the same weight as real world disability, because within the world of Terra, they're the same thing.

And of course there's just some of the more fucked up fantasy stuff like "On top of her existing narcolepsy, Ptilopsis was forced to become plural after she had to have part of her brain replaced with a computer that forces her to speak and think like a computer or else it causes her severe mental stress to the point of physical pain." Which uh. I don't know where that fits in the conversation but jesus christ someone hug that owl

Of course, its representation isn't always perfect. Just off the top of my head, Nightmare is a pretty rough stereotype, with the whole "Oripathy gave her multiple personality disorder with a violent personality trying to take control of her body!!" trope. And, of course, I'm sure other people have complaints with the representation of their disability in ways that I'm not aware of because I only have the perspective I have.

But... what I remember about this game's treatment of disability isn't when it fails. What I remember is reading Glaucus' module for the first time, the story of the first time she ever put on the mechanical exo-suit legs that allowed her to walk for the first time in her life. And I started bawling my fucking eyes out. I cried because, even though I don't know the specific feeling of walking for the first time in years, I know well what she felt. That feeling of liberation from something you secretly feared was just who you are now. Even though you know it won't be a perfect solution, the physically choking emotion that you're able to get a little closer to a normalcy you've always wanted. The feeling that right now, the only thing you can do is run like the wind.

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 1

Series Summary: Alexandria Sokolova spent 15 years with HYDRA, ever since her parents and brother were killed in front of her when she was 3. She was raised to be a soldier; an assassin. But now, faced with coming to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, she has to come to terms that there are people around her who don't want to hurt her, people who actually care about her.

But recognizing that is harder than it seems, especially with a teacher like Logan Howlett, who seems to care more about her than he lets on.

Just because she's currently safe from HYDRA's grasp now, doesn't mean she's safe forever.

Chapter Summary: The Avengers bring Alexandria to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Word Count: 8.9k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: and hello! welcome to this series! this is going to be a long one, since there are going to be three parts, this story, another series based around 'logan (2017)' and another based on 'deadpool and wolverine'.

but let's get a few things out of the way. this is NOT a romance with alexandria and logan. this is about them slowly recognizing they are more alike than different, and how they both eventually let their guard down around each other. if you will, it's a 'slow burn' father-daughter relationship.

another thing, alexandria's powers are as followed: dream-weaver; enter and manipulate dreams and telekinesis. you'll understand a bit more as you read on.

another, another thing, this is an au, the characters of jean, scott, kitty, jubilee, and others mentioned are TEENAGERS. they are students in high-school level classes as the X-Mansion, not adults. some of these characters may seem ooc, and if we're being honest it's because i've only watched first class-dark pheonix, the deadpool movies, wolverine origins, and logan. i tried watching the original x-men movies but i ended up falling asleep (oops). so if these characters are written wrong, it's my fault, but we are sticking with the ooc tag.

Series Masterlist → Chapter 2

AO3 Link For Chapter

Alexandria didn’t much care for whatever they were taking her. The Avengers, that is. Being saved from HYDRA did warrant them a ‘thank you’, but after a few days of staying at the Avengers Compound, they decided that it wasn’t a “good fit”.

Meaning a few things: one, they were scared of her, which was unlikely considering her powers weren’t all that terrifying, or two, they simply didn’t want to deal with a 17-year-old girl with trauma dating back 14 years ago.

The only three people who talked to her like a normal person was Wanda, Bucky, and Natasha, which she appreciated greatly.

“Coming up on the school.” Tony’s voice sounded out through the cockpit of the Quinjet.

Alexandria rolled her eyes, this all seemed like too much. She was a kid, just rescued from a terrorist organization and now she was supposed to go to school?

Was this a fucking joke?

Alexandria glared out the window as the Quinjet descended towards the sprawling grounds of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. The idea of school felt absurd after everything she’d been through. She crossed her arms, sinking deeper into her seat, eyes narrowed.

“Hey, I know it’s not ideal, but this place might be good for you,” Natasha said, catching Alexandria’s expression. She leaned over from her seat across the aisle, her voice gentle but firm.

“Yeah, a place full of more people who can do freaky stuff. Great,” Alexandria muttered.

Bucky, seated next to Natasha, turned to her. “It’s not just about powers. You’ll meet people who understand you, maybe even help you find some peace.”

Alexandria snorted, her skepticism apparent. “Peace? That’s rich coming from you.”

Bucky’s face tightened for a moment, but he nodded. “Touché. But it’s worth a shot.”

Tony’s voice came through again. “We’re landing. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

The Quinjet touched down smoothly, and the ramp lowered. Charles Xavier was waiting, a welcoming smile on his face, his wheelchair positioned at the edge of the landing zone. Beside him stood a younger man, wearing glasses, a flannel shirt, a tie, and a white lab coat.

Alexandria hesitated at the top of the ramp, glancing back at the Avengers. Wanda gave her an encouraging nod, while Natasha and Bucky looked on with reassuring expressions.

“Come on, kid,” Tony said, gesturing for her to follow. “Let’s get this over with.”

With a resigned sigh, Alexandria descended the ramp. Charles rolled forward to meet her, his eyes kind and understanding.

“Welcome, Alexandria,” he said warmly. “I’m Charles Xavier, and this is Hank McCoy. We’re here to help you.”

Hank offered a friendly smile. “Hi there. We’re really glad to have you here.”

Alexandria nodded stiffly, feeling the weight of their expectations. “Thanks, I guess.”

Charles seemed unfazed by her reluctance. “Why don’t we show you around? Hank, could you give Alexandria a tour while I have a word with our friends?”

“Sure thing,” Hank replied. “Come on, Alexandria, I’ll show you the school.”

As they walked away, Alexandria glanced back to see Charles engaging in a serious conversation with the Avengers. She couldn’t hear the words, but the tone suggested they were discussing her future.

“So, this place is like a school for mutants?” Alexandria asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“Exactly,” Hank said. “We offer a safe environment for young mutants to learn and grow. You’ll find a lot of people here who understand what you’ve been through.”

“Doubt it.” she muttered. Part of her didn’t even believe she was a so-called ‘mutant’. What she was however, was an experiment.

Hank chuckled softly as he led Alexandria through the halls of the Xavier Institute. “Well, I can’t promise you that everyone will understand perfectly, but you’re not alone in feeling out of place.”

“Yeah, right,” Alexandria replied, glancing around at the impressive but unfamiliar surroundings. “I’m supposed to just fit in here after everything that’s happened?”

“Everyone here has their own struggles and history,” Hank said. “Some are more recent than others, but we all find a way to make it work.”

They passed by a few classrooms, and Alexandria noticed students engaged in various activities. Some were reading, others were practicing what looked like combat techniques. It was clear this was not a typical school.

“Here’s the gym,” Hank said, opening a door to a large, well-equipped space. “It’s not just for physical training. It’s a place where students can test their abilities and find out what they’re capable of.”

Alexandria’s eyes flicked over the gym, taking in the equipment and the few students who were sparring. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Training can be intense, but it’s also important,” Hank said. “And there’s more to this place than just classes. You’ll find people who become like family.”

“Family, huh?” Alexandria muttered. “That’s something I’ve never had.”

Hank looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “You’re not alone here. Many of us have found a sense of family and belonging. It takes time, but it happens.”

They continued the tour, moving to the dormitory area where Alexandria would be staying. Hank showed her the common areas and her room, which was modest but comfortable.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Hank said, opening the door to a small, neatly arranged room. “It’s not much, but it’s yours.”

Alexandria walked in, setting her bag down on the bed. “Great. Just what I always wanted. A room of my own.”

Hank smiled faintly. “It’s a start. And if you need anything or have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Sure,” Alexandria said, her tone flat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Hank left her to settle in, Alexandria stared out the window, her thoughts racing. The enormity of her situation was starting to sink in. This was supposed to be a new beginning, but it felt more like another form of confinement.

She stared down at the baggy jeans she was currently wearing, something that probably came from deep inside Wanda’s closet.

Alexandria wasn’t much for talking, nor did she know what to do. Usually, she was only let out of her cell for lab-time, which lasted the entire day, before being thrown back into her cell.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the small, framed picture of the school grounds that hung on the wall. The room, though modest, was far from the sterile, cold environment she’d been accustomed to. But that didn’t make it feel any less isolating. The quiet was oppressive, and she found herself fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit she’d developed over the years.

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She stood up quickly, her pulse quickening. It was probably someone from the staff, here to check on her or give her some new set of instructions.

“Hey,” a voice called through the door. “It’s me, Kitty. Mind if I come in?”

Alexandria hesitated for a moment before opening the door. A girl about her age stood there, wearing a casual hoodie and jeans. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her eyes were a warm brown, filled with curiosity.

“Hi,” Kitty said with a friendly smile. “Charles sent me to see if you needed anything. I’m one of the students here.”

“Uh, sure,” Alexandria said, stepping aside to let her in. “I didn’t know anyone was coming by.”

Kitty stepped into the room, looking around with a mixture of interest and sympathy. “I know it’s probably a lot to take in right now. I remember my first few days here weren’t exactly easy.”

Alexandria sat back down on her bed, feeling a bit self-conscious. “It’s... different. I’ve never been to a place like this before.”

Kitty nodded, taking a seat on the small desk chair. “Yeah, it’s a lot to get used to. But it’s a good place. People here care about each other. I know it might not feel that way right now, but it does get better.”

“Do you really think so?” Alexandria asked, her skepticism evident.

“Absolutely,” Kitty replied earnestly. “I know it sounds cliché, but this place is like a family for a lot of us. You might not feel it yet, but you’re not alone.”

Alexandria shrugged, not entirely convinced. “I guess we’ll see.”

Kitty tilted her head, studying Alexandria for a moment. “You’ve probably been through a lot, right? With HYDRA and all that?”

“More than you could imagine,” Alexandria muttered. She hadn’t talked much about her past, even to the Avengers. It was easier to keep it all inside, where it couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Kitty’s expression softened. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. Sometimes it helps to get things off your chest.”

“Thanks,” Alexandria said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t ready to take her up on the offer just yet.

Kitty stood up, giving her a reassuring smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and see if you needed anything. If you do, just let me or any of the staff know.”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kitty nodded and made her way to the door. “See you around, Alexandria.”

As Kitty left, Alexandria sat back down on her bed, feeling the quiet settle around her again. The small bit of interaction had been a welcome distraction, but it also left her feeling more alone than before. She wasn’t used to people reaching out, and it made her wary.

And because she was wary, she spent the rest of the day in her room trying to figure out what the object on her desk was. It looked almost like a small, compact box, with many wires connecting to it.

After hours of trying to understand, night fell, and she needed a break. Alexandria grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before walking through the empty halls.

Finally, Alexandria stepped through a side door and found herself in a large, open field surrounded by trees. The night air was cool, and the quiet was a welcome contrast to the clamor of her thoughts. She lit her cigarette, the tip glowing softly in the darkness, and took a long drag. The smoke curled around her, blending with the shadows.

She leaned against the door frame, looking out at the expanse of grass and trees. The quiet of the night felt different here, less oppressive than the silence of her room. Maybe it was the openness, or maybe it was the fact that she was alone, and for the moment, she didn't have to pretend to be okay.

"Smoking's bad for you, you know," a gruff voice said from behind her.

Alexandria tensed, turning to see Logan standing there, someone Hank had mentioned to her, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was hard to read, but his eyes held a hint of curiosity.

She took another drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "So I've heard."

Logan stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her. "You planning to make this a habit, or just tonight?"

"Does it matter?" she replied, her tone defensive.

"Maybe not to you," Logan said, "but to the people around here, it does. They care about what happens to you."

Alexandria let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, right. I'm just another problem for them to solve."

"You're not a problem," Logan said, his voice firm. "You're a kid who's been through hell and needs a chance to find herself again."

“Find myself?” she scoffed. “There’s nothing to find.” Alexandria turned to face Logan, who lit a cigar, much bigger than her cigarette. She scoffed again. “You’re one to talk.”

Logan took a long drag from his cigar, the end flaring bright in the dark. “I’m not here to lecture you, bub. Just saying it like it is.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Yeah, well, I don’t need your advice.”

Logan’s gaze was steady, unyielding. “You might not want it, but you sure as hell need it.”

“Why do you even care?” she snapped. “You don’t know me.”

Logan exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, I don’t. But I’ve seen enough kids like you to know when someone’s hurting. And I’m here to tell you, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

She rolled her eyes, dropping her cigarette and stomping out the light. “I’d much rather be alone.”

Logan watched as Alexandria stomped out her cigarette, the ember disappearing into the grass. The silence that followed was heavy, and he could see the tension in her posture. He took another drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him before letting it out in a slow stream.

"You think pushing people away is gonna make things better?" Logan asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

Alexandria didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the dark field ahead. “It’s easier this way. Less chance of someone screwing things up.”

“Yeah, 'cause being alone always solves everything,” Logan replied sarcastically. “Look, I get it. You’re used to keeping people at arm’s length. But if you keep shutting everyone out, you’re never gonna get what you need.”

“What I need is to be left alone,” Alexandria snapped. “I’ve survived this long on my own. I don’t need a bunch of strangers telling me what to do.”

Logan took a few steps closer, the crunch of his boots on the gravel breaking the silence. “And how’s that working out for you? You ever stop to think that maybe you’re just scared to let anyone in?”

Alexandria shot him a sharp look. “I’m not scared. I’m practical. I know what happens when you let people get close.”

“And what’s that?” Logan asked, his voice low and steady.

“They get hurt,” Alexandria said flatly. “Or worse, they end up hurting you.”

Logan shook his head. “You’re making it sound like everyone’s out to get you. That’s not true. Some people actually want to help, but they can’t do it if you keep pushing them away.”

“Everyone is out to get me. I let someone in before and it didn’t end so well for them.” She shook her head gently, removing the graphic, bloody images from her head.

The anger and pain inside her were like a storm, churning and relentless. She didn’t know how to let anyone in, how to trust after everything she’d been through. HYDRA had stripped her of that ability, leaving her with nothing but suspicion and fear.

Logan sighed, taking another drag from his cigar. “Look, kid, I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. Hell, it’s probably gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you’ve got a chance here, a real shot at something better. Don’t throw it away because you’re scared.”

Alexandria glanced at him, her expression softening ever so slightly. There was something in Logan’s eyes, a flicker of understanding that made her want to believe him. But the walls she’d built were high and thick, and she wasn’t sure she could tear them down.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded, his gaze steady. “That’s all I’m asking. Just give it a shot.”

With that, he turned and walked back toward the mansion, leaving Alexandria alone with her thoughts. She watched him go, feeling a strange mix of frustration and hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness that had consumed her life for so long. But it would take more than a few words from a gruff stranger to convince her.

She stayed outside for a while longer, the cool night air helping to clear her mind. When she finally went back inside, the mansion was quiet, most of the residents already asleep. She made her way to her room, the events of the day playing over and over in her mind.

As she lay in bed, she thought about what Logan had said. She wasn’t ready to trust, not yet. But maybe, in time, she could find a way to let someone in. For now, she would take it one day at a time, trying to navigate this new world she’d been thrust into.

---

The following morning, Alexandria awoke to a soft knock on her door. She groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes as the door opened slightly, and Kitty peeked her head in.

“Hey, sorry to wake you,” Kitty said with an apologetic smile. “But I thought you might want some breakfast. We have a pretty good spread in the dining hall.”

Alexandria stretched and nodded, still not fully awake. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Kitty.”

“No problem,” Kitty replied. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

After quickly changing into some clothes that fit her better, Alexandria joined Kitty in the hallway. The two girls walked to the dining hall together, the atmosphere between them more relaxed than it had been the previous day.

“So, how was your first night?” Kitty asked as they walked.

Alexandria shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. A lot to take in.”

Kitty nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But trust me, it gets better. The people here are really great once you get to know them.”

When they reached the dining hall, Alexandria was surprised to see how lively it was. Students were chatting, laughing, and eating together, the room filled with a sense of camaraderie and belonging. It was a stark contrast to the isolation she’d known for so long.

As they grabbed their food and sat down, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. But Kitty was friendly and patient, introducing her to some of the other students and helping her feel more at ease.

Alexandria looked at the food on her tray. Some of it was colorful, in fact, it all was. There were red triangular objects on her tray with a green leafy top, a fluffy golden-brown circle, and a small cup of amber liquid.

Alexandria stared at the food on her tray, her brow furrowed in confusion. She poked at the red triangular object with a fork, then glanced over at Kitty, who was already digging into her own breakfast.

“What’s this?” Alexandria asked, holding up the fork with the red object speared on the end.

Kitty looked over and grinned. “That’s a strawberry. Haven’t you had one before?”

Alexandria shook her head, eyeing the strawberry warily. “Not that I remember.”

Kitty’s expression softened. “You should try it. They’re pretty good.”

With some hesitation, Alexandria took a small bite of the strawberry. The sweet and slightly tangy taste was foreign to her, but not unpleasant. She nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s... different.”

Kitty laughed. “Yeah, in a good way, though. That round thing is a pancake, and the syrup is for pouring on top. Trust me, breakfast here is usually a highlight.”

Alexandria mimicked Kitty’s actions, pouring a small amount of syrup onto the pancake and taking a cautious bite. The flavors were rich and comforting, and she found herself enjoying it more than she expected.

As they ate, the din of the dining hall continued around them. Alexandria noticed how the other students seemed at ease, joking around and chatting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It was strange to see so many people with powers like hers acting so... normal.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Alexandria asked, trying to sound casual but feeling a bit lost.

“Well,” Kitty began, “after breakfast, there’s usually some training sessions. You’ll probably have an orientation with Professor Xavier and maybe some one-on-one time with one of the teachers to figure out where you’re at with your abilities.”

Alexandria nodded, pushing her half-finished pancake around on her plate. “Sounds like fun,” she muttered sarcastically.

Kitty smiled sympathetically. “It might not be as bad as you think. Plus, it’s good to know what you can do. There are some pretty cool things you could learn here.”

Alexandria took a sip of her juice, trying to ignore the bustling energy of the room. “Yeah, well, we'll see.”

Kitty looked around at the other students who were beginning to head off for their various activities. “Hey, you want me to show you around a bit more before the orientation starts? I can give you the rundown on some of the places you might want to know about.”

Alexandria shrugged, finishing off her pancake. “Sure, why not. Couldn’t hurt to know what I’m dealing with.”

Kitty led her out of the dining hall, guiding her through the maze of corridors. “So, that’s the library over there. It’s got a lot of books on pretty much everything—powers, history, science. It’s a good place to catch up on some reading.”

Alexandria glanced over. “Got it. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And over here is the common room,” Kitty continued. “It’s where everyone hangs out, watches TV, plays games. It’s pretty chill.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a place I’ll avoid.”

Kitty laughed softly. “Fair enough. Oh, and there’s a small gym off to the side. It’s not as big as the main one, but it’s good for some light workouts.”

As they walked, Alexandria’s gaze drifted to the various students passing by, their casual conversations and easy smiles making her feel like an outsider. She didn’t belong here, and she wasn’t sure if she ever would.

“So, how do you get on with the teachers?” Alexandria asked, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from her discomfort.

Kitty’s expression turned thoughtful. “They’re pretty great, actually. Professor Xavier is really understanding, and Hank is super smart. There are a few others who are great too, but it depends on what you need.”

“Yeah? And what about Logan?” Alexandria asked, her tone a little sharper than she intended.

Kitty hesitated before answering. “Logan’s... Logan. He’s got his own way of doing things, but he means well. You’ll get used to him.”

“I met him the other night,” Alexandria said, her voice dropping to a murmur. “He didn’t seem all that interested in being nice.”

Kitty nodded. “That’s kind of his style. He’s not exactly a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he’s got a good heart. If you ever need anything, though, he might surprise you.”

“Yeah, I’m not holding my breath,” Alexandria muttered, more to herself than to Kitty.

Kitty gave her a sympathetic look. “Just keep an open mind. Things might not seem great now, but you might find some unexpected allies.”

As they reached the main area of the mansion where students gathered before heading to their various activities, Kitty turned to Alexandria. “I think we’ve covered the basics. How about we head to the training room? That’s where you’ll be meeting with Professor Xavier.”

Alexandria nodded, her mood lifting slightly at the prospect of getting some structure to her day. “Alright, lead the way.”

Kitty guided her through a series of hallways until they arrived at the training room. The door was slightly ajar, and the sounds of conversation and movement filtered through.

“Here we are,” Kitty said. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck, Alexandria.”

“Thanks, Kitty,” Alexandria replied, watching as Kitty walked away. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping into the room.

Inside, Professor Xavier was waiting, his wheelchair positioned near a set of training equipment. He looked up as Alexandria entered, his expression warm and welcoming.

“Good morning, Alexandria,” he said. “I trust you’re settling in?”

Alexandria nodded, though she didn’t quite meet his gaze. “Yeah, I guess. Kitty gave me a quick tour.”

“That’s good to hear,” Professor Xavier said. “Today, I’d like to start with an assessment of your abilities. It’ll help us understand what you can do and how we can best support you.”

Alexandria braced herself, feeling a mix of nerves and irritation. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Professor Xavier gestured to an open area of the room. “Why don’t we start with a demonstration of your powers? If you’re comfortable, show me what you can do with dream-weaving and telekinesis.”

Alexandria took a deep breath and moved to the center of the room. She closed her eyes, focusing on her ability to manipulate dreams. She’d rarely demonstrated her powers to anyone outside of HYDRA, and the idea of doing it now made her uneasy.

She visualized a simple scenario- a peaceful meadow with gentle breezes and blooming flowers. The air around her seemed to shimmer slightly as the dreamscape began to take shape. When she opened her eyes, she saw that a small, serene meadow had appeared in the room, though it was more a projection than a physical space.

“Impressive,” Professor Xavier said, observing the scene with interest. “And what about telekinesis?”

Alexandria moved her hand slightly, and a nearby object- a small training ball- levitated off the ground, spinning slowly in the air, covered in her blue telekinetic hue. She held it there for a few moments before setting it back down.

“That’s very good,” Professor Xavier said. “You’ve got a strong control over your abilities. We’ll work on refining them and exploring how they can be used in various situations.”

Alexandria crossed her arms, still feeling the unease bubbling beneath the surface. “And what happens if I don’t want to use them?”

Professor Xavier’s expression remained calm, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “That’s entirely up to you. Our goal here isn’t to force you into anything, Alexandria. We’re here to help you understand your powers and give you the tools to decide how you want to use them, or not use them.”

She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the floor. “Yeah, well, understanding them didn’t really work out for me before.”

“Your experiences were under very different circumstances,” Professor Xavier said gently. “But you’re safe here, and you have the freedom to choose your path. No one here will push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alexandria looked up, meeting his gaze for a moment. There was sincerity in his words, and for the first time since she’d arrived, she felt a tiny spark of hope that maybe—just maybe—things could be different here.

“Alright,” she finally said, her voice a little softer. “What’s next?”

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” Professor Xavier said, his tone reassuring. “For now, I’d like you to get familiar with the training room and the equipment. You’ll be working with some of the other students, but if you ever need time alone, just let me or any of the teachers know.”

He led the way in his wheelchair to a different section of the training room, eerily familiar to the setup the Avengers had.

But she doesn’t like training rooms. Too many needles, wires, and electrodes attached to her and called ‘training’. It wasn’t training, it was torture. Studying her brainwaves, her movements, how her powers worked, it made her hate training.

While she’s partially sure there was none of that here, she still had to ask. Alexandria wrangled her hands before keeping them at her side, trying to seem normal and not at all disturbed. “There’s not… any- you know, electrodes or anything, is there?” she asked quietly.

Charles looked up at her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. It was the softest he had heard Alexandria’s voice since she arrived and the closest he had seen her act like her age. For a moment, he hesitated, weighing his words carefully.

“No, Alexandria,” he said gently, his tone reassuring. “There are no electrodes or anything of that sort here. This is a safe place for you to explore your abilities at your own pace. The only equipment you’ll use is designed to help you understand and control your powers better—nothing invasive, I promise.”

Alexandria nodded slowly, though the tension in her shoulders remained. “Okay,” she murmured, glancing around the room again. It was a lot to take in, but at least she wasn’t going to be hooked up to any machines. That was a relief.

Professor Xavier offered her a small, encouraging smile. “Would you like to try out some of the equipment now, or would you prefer to take a break and come back later?”

She hesitated, unsure of what she wanted. Part of her wanted to get it over with, to face whatever challenges were ahead, but another part of her just wanted to be alone, away from everything and everyone.

“I guess… I could try something small,” Alexandria finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just to see what it’s like.”

“Of course,” Professor Xavier replied, nodding approvingly. “Why don’t we start with something simple? We have a training dummy over there,” he gestured to a humanoid figure across the room, “that’s designed to react to telekinetic force. You can try moving it, just to get a feel for your abilities in a controlled environment.”

Alexandria followed his gaze to the dummy, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this whole thing, but she figured it was better than sitting around doing nothing. At least it was a distraction.

She approached the dummy slowly, her steps hesitant. When she was close enough, she raised her hand and focused on the dummy, trying to summon the telekinetic energy within her. For a moment, nothing happened, and she felt a flicker of frustration.

Then, with a deep breath, she tried again. This time, a faint blue aura surrounded the dummy, and it lifted off the ground slightly, wobbling in the air.

“Good,” Professor Xavier encouraged from behind her. “Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Alexandria’s brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to maintain control over the dummy. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be, and she could feel her frustration growing. The dummy began to wobble more, and she clenched her fists, willing it to stay steady.

But her frustration got the better of her, and the dummy suddenly shot across the room, slamming into the wall with a loud crash. Alexandria flinched, her hands dropping to her sides as she took a step back, her heart pounding.

“Sorry,” she muttered, feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Professor Xavier said calmly. “You’re doing well, Alexandria. It’s natural to have moments of frustration, especially when you’re trying something new. The important thing is that you’re trying.”

Alexandria didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the floor. She hated feeling out of control, hated how her emotions seemed to dictate everything. It was a reminder of all the times she’d lost control in the past, with disastrous results.

Professor Xavier wheeled closer to her, his expression thoughtful. “Would you like to take a break? We can continue this later if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

She shook her head, a stubborn look crossing her face. “No, I’m fine. I just… need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” Professor Xavier said softly. “There’s no pressure here, Alexandria. We’re here to help you, not to push you.”

Alexandria took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside her. She knew she couldn’t keep avoiding her powers forever, and maybe this was the best place to start figuring things out. But it was hard, harder than she’d expected.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her voice steadier. “I’ll try again.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Professor Xavier encouraged.

She took another deep breath and focused on the dummy again. This time, she tried to keep her emotions in check, to approach it with a calmer mindset. The blue aura returned, and the dummy lifted off the ground once more. It wobbled slightly, but this time she was able to keep it steady, holding it in the air for a few moments before gently lowering it back to the ground.

“Good job, Alexandria,” Professor Xavier said, a note of pride in his voice. “You’re making progress.”

She nodded, a small sense of accomplishment filling her. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, she could get a handle on her powers after all.

“That should be good for today. I can have Kitty introduce you to some of the other students if you would like?” Charles asked.

Alexandria considered Professor Xavier’s suggestion, her mind still buzzing from the training session. Interacting with other students wasn’t high on her list of priorities, but she knew that isolating herself wasn’t going to help her in the long run. Still, the thought of making small talk or having to deal with people who would undoubtedly be curious about her past made her uneasy.

“I guess,” she said after a moment, shrugging. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Very well,” Professor Xavier replied with a nod. “I’ll have Kitty meet you outside the training room. She can introduce you to some of the others.”

Alexandria didn’t say anything, just nodded back, trying to suppress the anxiety that was bubbling up inside her. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she figured she might as well get it over with.

“Before you go,” Professor Xavier added, his tone gentle but firm, “remember that you’re not alone here. It might feel overwhelming now, but you’ll find your place in time. Be patient with yourself.”

“Yeah,” Alexandria muttered, not entirely convinced but not wanting to argue either. “I’ll try.”

She turned and headed for the door, her footsteps echoing in the quiet training room. When she stepped outside, she found Kitty waiting for her, leaning against the wall with a friendly smile.

“Hey,” Kitty greeted, straightening up. “How’d it go?”

Alexandria shrugged. “It was fine, I guess. Just trying to figure things out.”

“That’s normal,” Kitty said, her voice light. “It takes time, but you’ll get there. Anyway, ready to meet some of the others?”

“I suppose,” Alexandria replied, her tone noncommittal. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but she knew it was inevitable.

Kitty led her down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps the only noise between them for a moment. Alexandria could sense Kitty glancing at her occasionally, probably trying to gauge how she was feeling. She appreciated the effort, even if she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

“So,” Kitty began, breaking the silence, “I was thinking we could start with the common room. A lot of the students hang out there between classes and training sessions. It’s pretty laid-back.”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, keeping her responses short. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but she wasn’t sure how to engage in light conversation, especially with someone she barely knew.

When they reached the common room, Alexandria was struck by how relaxed everyone seemed. Students were scattered around the space, some playing video games, others watching TV, and a few just talking or reading.

“Over there’s Bobby,” Kitty said, nodding toward a guy who was absorbed in a video game. “He’s pretty chill, likes to freeze things.”

“Freeze things?” Alexandria asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s got ice powers. Cool, right?” Kitty said with a grin.

“Sure,” Alexandria replied, trying to muster some enthusiasm but mostly feeling out of place.

“And that’s Jubilee,” Kitty continued, pointing out a girl with bright yellow sunglasses who was chatting animatedly with a couple of other students. “She’s a blast—literally. She can generate fireworks.”

“Fireworks,” Alexandria repeated, her tone flat. It sounded more like a party trick than a power, but she kept that thought to herself.

Kitty seemed to sense her unease and gave her a reassuring smile. “They’re all good people. It might take some time, but you’ll get to know them. And they’ll get to know you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Alexandria muttered, not entirely convinced.

As they walked further into the room, a familiar figure caught Alexandria’s eye. Logan was sitting in a corner, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watched the room with a look of vague irritation. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and Alexandria wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Logan’s over there,” Kitty said, following her gaze. “You two met, right?”

“Yeah,” Alexandria replied, her voice tight. “Briefly.”

Kitty hesitated, picking up on the tension in Alexandria’s tone. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s one of the best. He’s been through a lot, like you.”

Alexandria’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need anyone comparing her to Logan or anyone else. “I’m sure he’s great,” she said, her tone clipped.

Kitty glanced at her but didn’t push the subject. Instead, she gestured to a group of students who were chatting near the windows. “Those are some of the newer students. Might be easier to talk to them since they’re still figuring things out too.”

Alexandria looked over at the group, noticing how at ease they seemed with each other. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. She hadn’t felt that kind of comfort around others in a long time, maybe ever.

“Maybe later,” she said, not ready to dive into socializing just yet.

Kitty nodded, understanding. “No rush. You can take your time.”

Alexandria looked over at the TV, a movie playing as a bunch of the students sat around the couch and the floors entranced by it.

“Oh, Scott likes to watch Star Wars, most of the time a lot of us end up joining in.” Kitty explained.

“What’s… Star Wars?” Alexandria asked slowly.

“It’s a movie- or well, a bunch of different movies and shows. It’s a franchise.”

Alexandria tilted her head at the large TV screen, currently a girl in an all-white dress kissed a dirty-blonde boy’s cheek before he swung them across some sort of room.

It was intriguing, or maybe that’s just because she’s never seen a movie.

Kitty noticed Alexandria’s gaze fixed on the TV screen, her curiosity evident. She gave her a gentle nudge, breaking the silence. “We can stay and watch it if you’d like. I’m sure Scott won’t mind. He’s a big geek about this stuff.”

Alexandria hesitated, glancing back at Kitty with a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue. “I’ve never really watched movies before.”

Kitty’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Never? Well, this is a good place to start. Star Wars is pretty iconic, and it’s one of those things that a lot of people here are into.”

Alexandria looked back at the screen, where a space battle was unfolding amidst flashing lights and dramatic music. The idea of sitting down and watching a movie felt foreign, but also oddly appealing. “Alright,” she said finally. “I guess I can give it a try.”

Kitty smiled, leading her over to the group around the TV. Scott, a tall guy with a pair of glasses perched on his nose, glanced up from the screen as they approached. “Hey, Kitty! And, um, Alexandria, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alexandria replied, trying to sound more relaxed than she felt.

“Great to meet you properly,” Scott said with a friendly smile. “We’re just getting into one of the best parts. You’re welcome to join us.”

Alexandria nodded, taking a seat on the couch. The other students, already absorbed in the movie, barely glanced up, which was fine by her. She sank into the cushion, trying to focus on the action-packed scenes.

Kitty settled beside her, giving a small wave to Scott and the others. “I told her you’d be okay with us joining in.”

Scott nodded, adjusting his glasses as he turned back to the screen. “No problem at all. It’s always good to have more people to discuss the movie with. We’re in the middle of the epic lightsaber duel. It’s one of my favorite parts.”

As the movie progressed, Alexandria found herself drawn into the story. The special effects were unlike anything she had ever seen, and the characters seemed to be larger than life. She didn’t fully understand all the details yet, but there was something captivating about the narrative and the way the students reacted to it.

Kitty leaned over and whispered, “So, what do you think so far?”

“It’s… different,” Alexandria admitted, her eyes still fixed on the screen. “I can see why people like it.”

Kitty grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty immersive. And there’s a whole series of these movies, plus spin-offs and shows. It’s a bit of a rabbit hole.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “How many movies are there?”

“Quite a few,” Kitty said with a chuckle. “But you don’t have to watch them all at once. We can always catch up on more later if you’re interested.”

“Hold on, Kitty.” Scott said, “there’s a certain way it should be watched. Some will say release date order, some will say chronologically, but I say no to both. It should be Episode 4, 5, then 1, 2, 3, then 6.”

Alexandria’s eyes widened, “there’s… that many?”

“Well, technically more than that, but those are the ones that really count,” Scott said, his enthusiasm evident.

Alexandria leaned back on the couch, her eyes still glued to the screen. “I didn’t realize there was so much to it,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of amazement.

Kitty smiled. “Yeah, it can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it’s all part of the fun. You get to dive into this whole new universe.”

“You know what that means, right guys?” Scott asked.

A girl, sitting on the floor in front of Scott looked up at him, “Scott…” she gritted out, almost teasingly.

“Star Wars marathon!” Scott exclaimed.

Kitty leaned in to Alexandria as some of the kids groaned and others were amused. “That girl is Jean.” She gestured to the girl sitting in front of Scott, who was now rolling her eyes.

“Jean, huh?” Alexandria said, watching as Jean settled back into her spot on the floor, a bemused expression on her face.

“Yeah, she’s got some pretty impressive telepathic abilities,” Kitty said. “She’s one of the more powerful telepaths around here. But she’s cool.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. She thought back to the cubed shaped thing on her desk, if Scott knew all about movies, then maybe he knew about… whatever that was.

“Um, Scott? What’s that thing on the desk? The… cubed thing?” Alexandria asked.

“That’s a computer.” He answered, shoveling popcorn into his mouth. “Do you know how to use it?”

She shook her head no.

Scott’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t know how to use a computer?” He looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “It’s pretty basic. You can do a lot of things with it—surf the web, write documents, watch videos. But it takes some getting used to.”

Alexandria shrugged. “I’ve never seen one. What’s so special about it?”

Scott tilted his head, clearly intrigued by Alexandria’s unfamiliarity with something so commonplace. “Well, it’s one of those tools that make life a lot easier. It’s like a window to the world. You can find almost anything you need on the internet.”

Kitty, sensing that Alexandria was feeling out of her element, chimed in. “If you want, we can have a quick tutorial later. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Alexandria looked at the computer again, her curiosity piqued. “Maybe. For now, I guess I’ll just stick to figuring out this Star Wars thing.”

Scott grinned, clearly happy to have a new project. “We can definitely work on that. Maybe after the movie, we can set up a session to show you the basics.”

“Sure,” Alexandria said, her tone more engaged than before. “I’m willing to give it a try.”

---

After the group finished the movie, which was after Scott rewound it to the beginning for Alexandria, him and Kitty taught her how to use the computer before they had to go to class.

As she browsed the web, some term Scott used, she realized it was late at night, around 11 o’clock. She took a quick shower and got into what Jean called pajamas, before getting into bed.

Sleep couldn’t claim her. The problem with her powers was that she could see people’s dreams, which was fine when she was with HYDRA, since she was either far away from other people, or they put her in her specialized cell.

Once the clock hit 2:48, Alexandria got out of bed and grabbed a cigarette and her lighter from her bag before heading up to the roof.

Last night, Logan was smoking by the side door, but tonight, and possibly all other nights in the future, the roof seemed like a better, more quiet place.

Alexandria stepped out onto the roof, the cool night air greeting her with a briskness that made her shiver. She leaned against the railing, the city lights twinkling far below. She flicked the lighter, the tiny flame illuminating her face for a moment before she took a drag.

As she exhaled, the smoke curling into the night, she heard the faintest sound of movement behind her. It wasn’t unexpected; she had a feeling she wasn’t the only one who sought the quiet solitude of the rooftop at odd hours.

After a few minutes of peace, the door at the ground floor opened up, with Logan stepping outside and smoking his own cigar. She was glad she wasn’t down there; she had enough human interaction to last a lifetime.

As she looked up at the sky, she realized quickly that she’d never seen stars before. Which was out of the ordinary, or weird, considering most people connect nighttime and dreams with the stars.

Out here, where there were almost no other signs of civilization, the stars seemed to shine brighter than she thought possible.

Alexandria decided to sit on the ledge of the building, her legs dangling and swinging, hitting the brick’s gently as she continued to look up at the night sky, her cigarette forgotten in her hand.

Down on the ground, Logan was finishing his own cigar. He had come out to the side door for some fresh air, his usual gruff demeanor on full display as he paced, taking long, deliberate drags from his cigar. The rooftop wasn’t the only place in the mansion that offered solitude, but Logan found the chill of the night air soothing.

As he neared the side of the building, Logan noticed a faint sound of movement from above. He squinted up, barely making out Alexandria’s figure silhouetted against the night sky. He grunted and took another drag, deciding to keep to his own space rather than investigate further.

Alexandria’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the stars above providing a stark contrast to the chaos she had known. For a moment, she felt disconnected from her past, as if the night sky was a canvas offering a new beginning. She let the cigarette fall from her fingers, the small ember disappearing into the night air.

Suddenly, a light shone up from below, catching her attention. It was Logan’s cigar, glowing brightly as he took another drag. She couldn’t make out his face from this distance, but his presence was unmistakable. Alexandria’s instincts told her to retreat, to avoid any unnecessary interaction.

But Logan, in his usual fashion, wasn’t one to ignore an anomaly. He looked up again, his gaze searching for the source of the disturbance. The flicker of the cigarette's ember had caught his attention. He grunted softly, debating whether to climb the stairs or simply ignore it.

Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. With a resigned sigh, Logan made his way to the rooftop access and began his ascent. As he approached, he could see Alexandria more clearly now- perched on the edge, seemingly lost in thought.

Logan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Couldn’t sleep?” he called up to her, his voice carrying over the distance between them.

Alexandria looked down, her face expressionless. “Not really. Just needed some air.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment. He walked over to the edge of the roof, leaning against the railing as he surveyed the view. “You got a problem with the stars or something?”

Alexandria shrugged. “No. Just never really seen them before.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. “You mean to tell me you’ve never been outside much?”

Alexandria gave a short, bitter laugh. “Not until recently, no.”

Logan grunted, not quite sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t good with feelings, especially other people’s. He settled for taking another drag from his cigar, letting the silence hang between them for a moment.

"Not exactly the kind of thing you'd expect to hear around here," he finally said, more to himself than to her. “You’ve been through the wringer, huh?”

Alexandria nodded, her gaze still fixed on the stars. “You could say that.”

Logan watched her for a moment, trying to gauge what kind of person she was. She was tough, that much was obvious, but there was something else there too—something that reminded him a little too much of himself. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He decided to keep it simple. “You’ll figure it out,” he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “This place isn’t perfect, but it’s better than the alternatives.”

“Is it?” Alexandria asked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism. “Or is it just another place with its own set of problems?”

Logan smirked, appreciating her bluntness. “Depends on how you look at it. Everyone’s got their own demons. But here, you might actually have a shot at dealing with ‘em.”

Alexandria shifted her gaze from the stars to Logan. “And what about you? What are you dealing with?”

Logan wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially not to someone he barely knew. But there was something about the way she asked the question—direct, no-nonsense—that made him consider it, if only for a second.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, deflecting. “Just focus on yourself for now.”

She didn’t press further, sensing that he wasn’t the type to share more than he wanted to. Instead, she nodded, accepting his answer without any more questions.

They stood in silence for a while, the night air cool against their skin. Logan was content with the quiet, but he could tell Alexandria was still restless.

“Why do you stay here?” Alexandria asked, breaking the silence but keeping her gaze on the stars.

Logan took a deep drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly as he considered her question. “It’s as good a place as any,” he replied, his tone neutral. “Better than most, actually. Got people here who understand.”

“Understand what?” she pressed, turning her eyes to him, searching for something in his expression.

Logan met her gaze, his own hard and unreadable. “What it’s like to have a past that doesn’t let go,” he said simply. “This place gives you a chance to move forward, if you let it.”

Alexandria snorted softly, a hint of bitterness in the sound. “Sounds like you’re trying to sell me something.”

Logan shrugged, unbothered by her cynicism. “Not selling anything. Just telling it like it is.”

She looked back at the sky, her fingers drumming lightly against the brick. “I’ve been around people who claimed they could help before. Never turned out well.”

“Yeah, well,” Logan said, flicking ash from his cigar, “this place isn’t perfect. But it’s different. Nobody here’s gonna bullshit you. And you’ll have to pull your own weight.”

Alexandria’s lips twitched in what could almost be mistaken for a smile, but there was no humor in it. “Pull my own weight. That I can do.”

“I’m sure,” Logan replied, his tone dry.

They lapsed back into silence, but it was less uncomfortable this time, as if they’d reached some sort of understanding. Alexandria leaned back on her hands, still sitting on the edge of the building, letting the night breeze cool her skin.

Logan finished his cigar and glanced over at her, noticing the way she seemed to relax, even if just a little. “You planning on sitting out here all night?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“Maybe,” Alexandria answered, noncommittal. “Why? You worried about me?”

Logan’s smirk was barely visible in the dim light. “Not my style to worry about anyone.”

“Good,” she replied, her tone matching his. “I don’t need anyone worrying about me.”

“Figured as much,” Logan said, pushing himself off the railing. “Just remember, you don’t have to do everything alone here. But you do have to show up. Can’t just hide out on rooftops.”

Alexandria gave a slight nod, acknowledging his words but not committing to anything. Logan didn’t push further; he’d said what he needed to say. With a final glance at her, he turned and headed back toward the door.

“Logan,” Alexandria called out, just as he reached the stairwell.

He paused, looking back at her. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, then shrugged, as if she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. “Thanks. For… you know.”

Logan gave a short nod, his expression softening just a fraction. “Don’t mention it.”

With that, he disappeared down the stairs, leaving Alexandria alone on the rooftop once more. She watched the door close behind him, then turned her attention back to the stars. Maybe this place was different.

[lukasdoodles]

Sometimes i wonder if anyone remembers my old zombie apocalypse au that i havent written for since 2020 lol--

ANYWAY i think abt it all the time and so decided to redesign some of the main characters with their casual wear. There's a big story and info with it but idk if i'll ever write it out or whatever. If you wanna know more then feel free to shoot me an ask and I may just ramble abt it hehe

Anyway design notes below!

Starting with Olivia, she's an engineer and medic, so she has alternate outfits for those jobs, but for her casual look she prefers to cover up (make it harder for the zombies to bite through). I still wanted to make her outfit resemble her canon design, so i stuck with the red shirt/white sleeves, and kept her beanie of course. She's cut her hair as well, but keeps some dangly strands in the front so she can twirl them as she gets anxious.

Axel's casual design also takes a lot of inspiration from his canon design, he's a scout and engineer alongside Olivia, doing most of the heavy lifting and helping with documentation. I felt like the plaid overshirt fit him better than his canon design, don't have much info for him past that lol

Aiden's design is supposed to be more military-ish, as in the story he takes on the role of a leader for the cast. There's more lore behind that, but he's always prepared for the worst. His leather jacket is his dad's, so is his gun and knife (not pictured). Aiden is strong and cold, he doesn't want to get attached to people who might die or betray him. Thankfully, that hasn't happened. Yet.

Lukas's design is more casual and laid back. He occasionally scouts for the group, but his big role is being a mediator and organizer. He takes on a secondary leader role, helping Aiden with the hard decisions more than anything. Aiden keeps telling him to cut his hair too- but Lukas likes the mullet. He'll keep liking it until a zombie yanks on it, at the least.

Radar was a doctor- a pharmacist- a scientist? The others aren't sure. He showed up at their camp with a car full of supplies, wearing a doctor's coat and sporting a worn nametag. He won't tell them what he used to do, but he keeps the stained coat in hopes it might save him one day. He's also got hearing aids in this au he's hoh. That comes into play eventually hehe

Jesse is the main character out of the group of Mc's. He's...fine.

[zuko-always-lies]

Suyin Beifong is such a weird character narratively

In many ways, she's the weirdest character in ATLA or LoK in her place in the story, considering her actions and beliefs. Let's just walk through everything.

Suyin got herself involved in criminal activities and street gangs as a kid and helped rob stuff. Then she scarred Lin when Lin tried to arrest her for that. And the fallout from that is implied to have led to Toph retiring.

After that, Suyin was sent to live with her (extremely wealthy) grandparents. After a while, she left them and began traveling the world and trying out various things, including being part of a traveling circus, living in a sandbender commune, and joining the crew of a pirate ship. Note that pirates rob and kill people. Note also that Suyin seems to have felt just about zero remorse for any of the above, and expected and demanded that Lin forgive her for everything without getting an apology.

Eventually, Suyin had had enough of all the traveling and robbing and killing and circus performing, so she used her vast, vast family wealth and bought a plot of land to build her own city on.

Zaofu seems to be essentially a Beifong family dictatorship defined by Suyin's ideological beliefs. As far as I can tell, the guiding principles of the city are "progress," "modernity," harmony, order, and control. After all, as Suyin says "Thanks to Aiwei, there are no secrets in our city," and she evidentially likes that a lot. The degree to which Suyin values absolute control over her city can also be seen in how incredibly outraged she gets when Kuvira, Baatar Jr., and some other citizens decide to leave on their own initiative. Her anger at Aiwei's betrayal ("I want you to hunt down Aiwei and bring him back to me") also fits the same pattern. Interestingly, Kuvira always claims to have gotten 90% of her fascist ideology from Suyin and Zaofu, and I actually think she was telling the truth, that Zaofu was a city organized on proto-fascist principles and Kuvira merely applied its principles to the wider Earth Kingdom.

Now perhaps we should turn to Suyin's relationship with Kuvira, which always seems very odd to me. Suyin took Kuvira in when Kuvira was a young child and trained her and claims "Kuvira was like a daughter to me." Yet Suyin never seems to really treat Kuvira like a daughter when the two interact on screen, nor do Suyin's children seem to see Kuvira as a sister. Notably, when Suyin introduces her family to Korra, she doesn't include Kuvira, nor is Kuvira invited to the dinners with Team Avatar. It's all very weird.

Anyways, Korra first arrives at Zaofu, Suyin seems to expect her, the Avatar, to stay in Zaofu relatively permanently to personally tutor Opal in airbending. The idea that Korra has other important responsibilities which don't involve personally serving Suyin's interests doesn't seem to cross Suyin's mind. We also find that Suyin is sheltering Varrick and Zhu Li, awful, highly amoral criminals, from justice since they're useful. On the plus side, Suyin is willing to personally teach Korra and even Bolin metalbending. She even eventually offers an apology to Lin for her behavior when younger, an something which helps reconciles the siblings. Suyin even allows Opal to leave for the Northern Air Temple.

Then the Red Lotus attacks, Suyin helps drive them off, etc. Everyone realizes that the Red Lotus had inside help, Suyin uses Aiwei the lie detector to search for the traitor, it turns out Aiwei was the traitor, he flees, Suyin is suitably outraged, and so on. Then we get to something "interesting": Korra wants Team Avatar to go after Aiwei, Lin (correctly) points out that this is way too dangerous, and then Suyin lies to and deceives Lin to make her think Suyin agrees with her and go bed, before personally sending Team Avatar after Aiwei anyways, something which goes very poorly. Suyin and Lin have barely reconciled, and practically first thing Suyin does is lie to and manipulate her sister. And yeah, Lin is pretty pissed that Suyin "stabbed her in the back" next time they talk, but essentially the entire thing blows over with zero consequences for Suyin.

The next thing that Suyin really does in the narrative is lead Zaofu's security forces to help Korra, Team Avatar, Lin, and Tonraq take on the Red Lotus and rescue the airbenders. This is objectively a good thing, but it's also interesting, considering what we later learn about Suyin's isolationist beliefs. However, it's worth pointing out that Suyin had several personal motives for her actions here: Her daughter Opal is one of the airbending hostages, Lin her sister is evidentially going to be involved, and the Red Lotus had the temerity to attack Zaofu and Suyin is probably pretty pissed about that. Without these "ulterior" motives, I doubt Suyin would have been willing to get involved. Then Suyin helps everyone else defeat the Red Lotus, but doesn't really do anything too interesting as part of that. Cut to Book 4.

What Suyin mostly does through Book 4 is oppose Kuvira, but we still get some interesting material as part of that. We learn that Suyin was asked to help stabilize the Earth Kingdom between books, but she refused. Considering how the children she raised ended up handling things, it's very likely that Suyin would have ended up becoming a (bigger) fascist dictator, so Suyin's refusal is also probably a good thing, even though refusing to provide aid to a country in anarchy probably isn't the best thing.

Kuvira and Baatar Jr. disagree about this, and they leave for Ba Sing Se with "Varrick, my security force, and a few of Zaofu's wealthiest citizens." Suyin is so outraged she responds by declaring them (or at least Kuvira) exiles, forever banished from Zaofu. We also see the start of a couple tendencies which will reoccur in the season. These are Suyin blaming Kuvira for Baatar Jr.'s bad actions and Zaofu's citizens being pretty OK with Kuvira and her actions, while only the Beifong family hates her.

Next time we see Suyin, it's at Prince Wu's "coronation." Normally Suyin would absolutely despise a royal idiot like Wu, but she hates Kuvira so much that she's willing to join the other world leaders in imposing him on the Earth Kingdom (as a useful lackey?). After that doesn't work out, Suyin tries to convince Kuvira to step down, something which goes poorly.

A couple episodes later, Kuvira shows up with an army and demands Suyin surrender Zaofu, something that Suyin understandably is pissed about. Mutual recriminations result, Suyin again blames Kuvira for all the actions of her fascist dictator son, and so on. Korra tries to continue negotiations, but Suyin has already left to try to assassinate Kuvira in her sleep. That's maybe a reasonable reaction to what Kuvira is doing, but it's an odd way to treat someone who is "like a daughter" to you. There's also evidence that Suyin doesn't really get that people are legitimately loyal to Kuvira and legitimately believe in her ideology, or that Baatar Jr. agrees with Kuvira, is equally complicit in her policies, and would continue leading the Earth Empire in its conquests if she died. Anyways, Suyin's attempt fails, she ends up captured, and ultimately she's forced to watch Zaofu's citizenry bow to Kuvira and cheer her. Although there was still coercion involved, the fact that only the Beifong family refused to bow is still evidence that the "Metal Clan's" general population has a reasonably positive view of Kuvira and her ideology and the only reason the Beifongs don't is because they have a personal vendetta against her. After all, Kuvira's ideology derives from Zaofu.

After that, Suyin doesn't do too much, narratively. She escapes with her family from Kuvira and Baatar Jr.'s prison for them and she opposes Kuvira's attempt to conquer Republic City. Again, that's objectively a good thing, but Suyin opposing it also makes perfect sense given the depth of her vendetta against Kuvira. The only interesting thing is that Suyin instantly forgives her fascist dictator son and doesn't hold him the least bit accountable for his actions, while continuing to hate Kuvira after she apologizes. Again, more evidence that Suyin does not, in fact, view Kuvira as a part of the family.

Overall, Suyin is narratively very weird. Based on all that I've discussed above, it's clear that she's very much not a good person, nor is she particularly likeable. She basically runs a mini-fascist dictatorship, after all. Yet Suyin not only gets a massive amount of narrative attention (it seems like some of the writers really liked the idea of her and her family), but is always an ally of the protagonists and is never held truly accountable for her actions. Considering who she is as a person and her backstory, having her be an antagonist or villain would in many ways make more sense, but that's not the route they went.

TLoK was really into giving its antagonists half-assed redemption/quasi-redemption arcs (Tarrlok, Desna and Eska, Varrick, Zhu Li, Tahno, Zaheer, Hiroshi Sato, Baatar Jr., Kuvira), but Suyin doesn't really fit into this paradigm, since she was never an antagonist in the first place. The only characters across ATLA and TLoK who really remind me of her, in terms of being bad people who are never really called out by the narrative, are King Bumi, Varrick and Zhu Li, and Iroh.

Of these, King Bumi is a complete dick, but he's a much more minor character than Suyin and gets away with a lot due to being a "comedy" character.

Varrick is an absolutely awful person, but the narrative lets him avoid consequences for that since he's likeable and funny. Zhu Li really just tags along with his narrative.

Iroh is morally grey at best in the present and morally black in the past, but again the narrative avoids calling him out about it since he's funny and likeable and nice to the most audience sympathetic character, Zuko. The narrative even starts painting him as perfect and a saint after a certain point, something which continued in TLoK.

Suyin isn't like any of them. She's not a comedy character. She's not funny or likeable. And it's not like the narrative paints her as perfect, like it does for Iroh. She sometimes suffers the consequences of her actions, and I think she's supposed to come off as significantly flawed. On the other hand, the narrative never really calls out Suyin for any of her terrible behavior, bad actions, or general bullshit. She's never held truly accountable in any way for anything. It's all very odd.

[gold-rhine]

Can I ask for your thoughts on Collei? Character wise, your analysis is always fun

disclaimer i didnt read the webcomic, i'm a dragon age survivor and i firmly believe that if you want something to be canon in GAME, it needs to be present IN GAME, and not in one of the adjacent ten books or comics.

that said, i understand that the main issue ppl have is collei having dark backstory and being closed off and aggressive in the comic, and then in sumereu aq she's sweet and awkward bumbling teen. which is like, if you want kinda rude and abrasive survivor girl representation, kinda sucks. which i agree with. but also, i don't think that survivor of violence and abuse ending up as sweet, but awkward teen due to being cared and loved by others, is bad. i think its good. and she's not like "cured" to normalcy, she still clearly struggles, they had the sweetest storyline in that one event with sucrose about that, and also the incident in archon quest where she's triggered by paimon yelling. the problem is thats there wasn't coherent journey shown to the player.

what i think would be good. and bear with me here. if aranara quests were structured around collei and not a random npc. like listen, collei already fits the premise of "we need to organize the aranara magic fest to cure abyss corruption of one girl", bc she has the dead gods corruption injected by dottorre, right. and this is different from eleazar, bc eleazar is from ley line corruption, she's probably more susceptible to the second type BC she has the first type, and its the root issue that needs to be addressed.

it'd be good for aranara quests bc right now their narrative is kinda wonky. like the lore is very interesting and the aranara are cuties, but plot is like. just going to random places and doing lore things that aranara told us to do. which is why it seems too long for most players - it just doesn't have any dynamic, any ebbs and flows that good plotline should have to keep player's attention, it doesnt have a NARRATIVE DEVELOPMENT. we don't have any character progression we can track and be worried about. we have our aranara buddy and he's great, but he doesn't have any conflicts, he's just ":D" all the time. it feels static right until the finale, where action suddenly peaks.

now collei has canonical inbuilt conflict that correlates beautifully with aranara. she's a teen whose childhood was stolen from her, who was always focused on survival, who struggles to trust people, but also to trust the world in general, to find joy and wonder in it instead of constant dangers. its all described in her stories, it just not dramatized in game. if we add her as companion in aranara quest, we immediately get the development progression i was talking about.

she doesn't see aranara at first at all, even if we are surrounded by them. she thinks its a bit cringe that traveler is talking to imaginary friends, but she's respectful, bc traveler is trying to help her. but as they go thru the quests and she meets new people who tell their stories and sees miracles like dead trees blooming right in front of her eyes, she starts to open up. she starts to go along willingly and sees aranara for the first time - briefly, its gone soon, but she remembers and CHOOSES to believe, chooses to trust, and then she sees them more and more often, until at the festival during the grand song the entire village, hidden magical world finally opens up to her.

[orangeflavoryawp]

Jonsa - "Nodology", Part 1

It's best to read this story after first reading "No More Scars", since this is a sequel. While it's not necessary to do so, it helps paint a picture of Jon and Sansa's current relationship, and there are some references to scenes from that fic that might be lost on new readers. "No More Scars" was about the organic progression of Jon and Sansa's relationship on the road to Riverrun after he rescues her from King's Landing, and this is the story of that singularly-focused narrative now entering into the larger world of family and politics and societal expectations. Long story short, shit gonna get messy from here on in, folks.

Like in "No More Scars", there's been some speeding up/condensing of the timeline, and aging up of all characters. For those that are new, Jon died up at the Wall and then went South to rescue Sansa. Expect lots of creative license being taken, lol.

Nodology

Chapter One: There's a Poem in there Somewhere

"The knot fastens ever tighter." - Jon and Sansa. After rescuing her from King's Landing and bringing her to Riverrun, the two try to navigate a love they never intended to start, especially with so many watching eyes.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Part 1 | 2

* * *

All things come to an end, Sansa realizes.

This is what she thinks when she makes her way through the gates of her mother's family home.

(This must be how it ends – their journey.)

It's not home, but it's as near to it as Sansa expects to be for a long while. Riverrun's gates open before them, and Sansa sees her family, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading into the main hall at the end of the courtyard. The breath stalls in her chest. She's hardly aware of the halt her horse makes when she settles before them, Jon leading the horse on foot, keeping the proper decorum between them. And she's hardly aware of the offer of his hand for her to hold onto when she dismounts, rather than the familiar way his palms used to fit around her waist to help her down. They left intimacy back on the hill, after all. And part of Sansa's heart hurts for it, but in this moment, she hasn't a mind for it.

"Oh, Sansa," her mother cries, and then she is folded into her arms.

Everything comes undone in Sansa's chest. Her breath rakes from her, her eyes wetting instantly, and when she reaches trembling hands up to the back of her mother's dress, she fears she may crumble against her form.

"My dear Sansa," Catelyn cries into her hair, a hand stroking the back of her head, the other wrapped tight around her shoulders.

The sob catches in Sansa's throat. "Mother," she croaks out, voice breaking. And then the tears truly do come.

They hold each other there in the open courtyard. Robb watches them with a trembling lip, his throat flexing. He opens his mouth, perhaps to say her name, to say something, but nothing comes. He clamps it shut, the quiver in his chin barely discernible, his eyes never leaving her form.

And then there is Jon, still holding the reins of the horse she'd rode in on. Still watching, always, from a distance. She meets his eyes over her mother's shoulder.

He offers her a tender smile, just the slightest quirk of his lip, his own eyes wetting at the sight of their reunion.

She mouths a silent 'thank you' to him, her tears hot along her lids, and then she buries her face in her mother's shoulder.

Her knees buckle, but Catelyn holds her.

She is home, home, home.

(Because home is not a place.)

Sansa doesn't bother to smother her cries this time.

* * *

Catelyn frets over her the first several hours, and dinner that night is awkward for her at the beginning, the anxiety still bundled in her chest, the fear still wound tight throughout her gut.

The last time she sat at a dinner table, Cersei sat across from her, wine goblet in hand, sneer in place.

Her appetite is slow in returning.

Catelyn brushes a stand of hair behind her daughter's ear with affection. Sansa smiles tenderly at her, seated beside her, before refocusing on her plate.

Jon sits across from her. Ghost lies at her feet beneath the table.

More than her appetite may be slow to return. But he is here.

And she is safe.

And there is time in the world for everything else.

* * *

Jon had expected to be the one to break the terrible news of Arya no longer being in King's Landing, but before he can, Catelyn is already assuring Sansa of their search for Arya, her hands cupping her cheeks, her eyes fervent on hers.

"She's been seen in the Riverlands, and I've sent trusted people in search of her. Your uncle is helping," she says with a nod to her brother Edmure.

Tears bead in Sansa's eyes.

The air tangles in Jon's lungs – equal mix dread and relief.

She's been spotted, at least. She's alive, at least. But beyond that...

He meets Sansa's eyes across the room and finds the same tangle of emotion reflected in her gaze.

In this world, and in this war, they have no guarantee of anything, after all.

* * *

There's a knock on her chamber door. She calls for the visitor to enter and stops her perusal of the many dresses her mother has laid across her bed for her.

Robb enters, eyes meeting hers briefly before glancing to the floor, and he closes the door behind him. He meets her gaze again in silence.

Sansa stills in her surprise, before her manners return to her. She curtsies. "Your Grace."

"Sansa, please – " he starts, hand out-reaching, before stopping. He clears his throat. "You can forget the formalities," he tells her, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Sansa watches him quietly, aching to reach for him, to bury her face in his chest and cry in his arms and call him 'brother' once more, but she's unsure whether he wants that as well. Whether she is still 'sister' to him.

"You've returned to us. Safe and sound," he says in relief.

The anger flares hot and unbidden within her. She purses her lips, turning back to her bed. "Yes, though your definition of 'sound' is questionable at best," she snaps.

He steps toward her. "Sansa..."

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. This is her king, as well as her brother. She turns back to him. "I'm sorry. That was... unworthy of me."

He hesitates a moment, and then he reaches for her, wraps his arms around her frame, sighs into her hair. "You've no idea how worried I was."

"No, I've no idea," she breathes quietly into his shoulder, stiffening in his embrace.

Robb doesn't seem to notice. He pulls back from their hug, his hands resting along her arms. "I want you to meet my new wife. You'll get on well, I just know it."

Sansa heaves an exhausted sigh. "Of course."

Robb peers at her. "Are you tired? You must be tired. Of course, you're tired. I should let you rest." His hands fall from her shoulders. He moves to turn, and then stops, glancing back at her. He opens his mouth, closes it, tries again. "I'm glad you're back, Sansa. Truly."

Maybe he means it. Maybe he means all of it.

But Sansa cannot think of that right now. She only nods silently, offering a perfunctory smile. "So am I," she says placatingly.

Robb smiles at her, before leaving her chambers.

She drops down to sit along the edge of the bed, her eyes glancing over the dresses laid out across her furs.

It rises in her – sudden and poisonous.

She grabs a dress, slings it across the room with a shriek.

Sansa stands staring at the offending garment, her chest heaving with her ire, and then she grabs for another, throwing it just the same. Another. And another. Her shouts of rage crumble into grievous cries, her arms finally giving out as she stumbles back along the bed, sliding down the side of it to drop to the stone below. She buries her face in her hands, her breaths coming quick, her eyes stinging with unshed tears, her frustration panted into her palms.

She pulls her knees up to her chest.

She is home, home, home.

(And it shouldn't feel like this.)

* * *

Jon finds her in the stables, brushing out the mane of her horse. He glances around the stalls, making certain of their seclusion, before he steps up behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach and pulling back against his chest.

Sansa startles in his embrace, before she realizes it's him, the brush in her hand still held mid-air, her other going to Jon's own hand around her waist. "Jon," she whispers with caution, glancing around the corner for any witnesses to his sudden affection.

But Jon only sighs into her hair, clutching her more firmly. He buries his nose along her shoulder. "Just give me a minute."

Sansa worries her lip, stiffening in his hold, even as his warmth floods her. "Jon, we have to be careful," she hisses, eyes still flicking around the corner of the stall.

"Just a minute, please, Sansa," he rumbles into her neck, his eyes fluttering closed at her scent, her nearness, the steady weight of her braced to his chest.

The ardency of his request seems to move her, and her shoulders lose their tension, her own sigh stealing past her lips as she leans back against him, quietly surrendering.

He's back there, suddenly, back to being on the run like they were only weeks ago, when there was nothing but her and him and a horse and a road. Nothing to stop him holding her like this, and no one to interrupt. Nothing to risk, and no shame to be found.

He breathes her in, his fingers clutching at her, and it's too short – this time that he can hold her. It's too short and too fleeting and too edged with danger.

(He knew this going into it. He knew this when she reached for his hand atop the hill and told him: "This isn't as far as we go." But knowing doesn't make it any easier.

He knew he was still her brother.

He knew this was still wrong.

But knowing and wanting have never gone hand in hand for him.)

He takes a last lingering inhale at her neck, his nose still pressed to her hair, his hands slipping from her waist reluctantly, before he moves to turn her gently in his hold, facing her.

She looks up at him with a tenderness that rakes through his chest.

He closes his eyes and sighs heavily when she braces a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing over his coarse beard.

"What is it?" she asks him softly, peering up at him when he settles his hands on her hips.

"I just miss you," he manages, his eyes fluttering open to rove across her face.

She smiles up at him, before leaning forward to plant a kiss along his cheek. "And I miss you. Always. Even when you're right across the table from me."

Jon sighs out his aggravation, his thumbs brushing unconscious circles over her hips. "I feel like we haven't spoken in days."

Sansa looks down, her hands going to brace along his arms. "We haven't, really," she says forlornly.

He doesn't let her linger long on it though, directing her to the bench across the horse's stall. They settle next to each other, their hands held between them. "How have you been?" he asks her.

She gives a slight shake of her head. "I'm worried for mother. There's been no further news of Arya."

Jon grunts his acknowledgement, his eyes drifting down to their joined hands, his thumb gliding over her knuckles in comfort. "There will be. I promise."

She smiles up at him. "When you say it, I believe you."

"Good."

She squeezes his hands. "I'm surprised you didn't offer to join Uncle Edmure's men in their search for her."

He considers it a moment, his eyes still following the trail of his thumb over the back of her hand. "I thought about it," he says softly.

She cocks her head at him. "But...?"

He looks up at her then. "But Robb is planning his next attack soon and I need to be with him."

She frowns at his words. "Will you be leaving then?"

At her slight pout, the hint of a smile tugs at his lips, and he reaches up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her jaw. "Not immediately."

"I don't want you to go," she says firmly, leaning toward him with a plea in her eyes.

Jon sighs at the urgency in her words, the smile slipping from his face. "Sansa, I have to."

"No, you don't. Robb has enough of the Northern lords behind him. You don't have to risk yourself as well."

"And you're okay with letting our brother go to war without me? Without his family?"

Sansa's mouth thins into a tight line, her throat flexing imperceptibly. Her eyes flick away from his, focusing on the tie of his tunic instead. "No," she croaks out, finally.

But Jon knows where the hesitation comes from.

"Did Robb send you?"

The years apart have made them different people. But he still remembers how Sansa used to hang off Robb's arm at feasts, and how eagerly she played her harp for him, and how she dragged him into her games of pretend when they were children. He remembers her proud smile when Robb first donned the cloak she'd sewn for him, and the way she refused to cry in his presence, and the intensity with which she held him as they said their goodbyes outside the gates of Winterfell, before her ill-fated trip to King's Landing.

Robb was Sansa's favorite brother. Always had been.

And maybe that fact never really hurt before because he'd been his as well, and maybe it doesn't really hurt now because being Sansa's favorite brother isn't even what he wants – now, when what he wants is so decidedly far from brotherly, it isn't even in the same vicinity.

And still:

"Did Robb send you?"

Maybe it hurts now because they've both since learned the answer, even when neither will say it.

"Of course, I want him safe," she says, her voice quaking, her eyes still fixed to his chest. She sighs, her shoulders slumping with it, her gaze falling to her lap. "But I can't lose you both. I wouldn't make it, Jon, not after... not after everything."

Jon releases her hands to cup her face, the gentle brush of his thumb arcing over her cheek. "Hey, look at me."

She does, and the trust he finds in her gaze nearly rends him clean in two.

"Sansa, we have a chance, don't you see? With the Riverlands and the Vale lending their support, and Theon off securing the Greyjoys' alliance – we can end this war."

Sansa's brows dip in concern. "But when Robb married Jeyne..."

Jon shakes his head, a rough sound brewing in his throat. "I know. I know the Freys aren't happy, but we're still in talks. And nothing's been decided. And with Robb as our king, I know – I know we can finally – " He stops, the words clogging up his throat as he takes in her face. "The North can be free. You can be free. And I promise – I promise you, Sansa – neither Robb or I will ever let you be captive again, do you understand me?"

Sansa reaches up to hold his wrists, pressing her cheek into the palm of his calloused hand.

He just wants her to believe him.

Because he means it. He means it more than anything in this world.

Sansa is free when the North is free. And for that...

For that, he would give anything.

"Tell me you believe me," he begs of her, his face inching closer to hers.

The slight sheen of tears blankets her eyes as she blinks up at him. But she nods mutely, and it is answer enough.

He presses forward and kisses her. Just the once. Swift and sure and promising.

She sucks a shallow breath between her lips, her forehead bracing to his when he pulls back. Her hands never unlink from around his wrists.

Sansa is free when the North is free.

(And he needs no further reason to fight.)

* * *

"That's all I know," Sansa says, glancing down at the map of King's Landing Robb has spread out over the table.

Jon watches the tick in Robb's jaw at her words, his hands braced along the edge of the table, eyes fixed to the map. "Sansa," he sighs, "There must be something you missed. Something that can help us. You know how important this is."

Catelyn, Brynden, Edmure and even Robb's wife Jeyne Westerling stand around the table with them, all eyes keened to the layout of King's Landing spread before them, a stilted silence pervading the room. Outside the chamber, Robb's advisors and the other lords of the North wait patiently to convene the war council.

Sansa crosses her arms defensively at Robb's words, her eyes flashing to him. "Of course, I know how important this is. I'm not a simpleton. But I can't tell you what I don't know! It's not like I was privy to the Lannisters' council meetings," she huffs.

Robb looks up at her with frustration, before he pushes from his lean over the table, a hand wiped over his mouth. "Think, Sansa. Even the smallest detail may help us. Something they may have let slip."

Sansa narrows her eyes at him. "I'm sorry, was I meant to be spying between the bouts of terror and abuse? Apologies, Your Grace, but I never received that missive," she bites out.

Robb sucks a sharp breath between his teeth, his mouth opening on a scathing retort.

Catelyn's hand goes to his arm, stilling him.

The room feels stiff in the aftermath, Edmure and the Blackfish both shifting their weight from one leg to another, watching the scene before them carefully. Jeyne folds her hands in front of her, eyes falling to the floor when she pulls her lip between her teeth.

Sansa doesn't lower her gaze from her brother's.

Jon watches the exchange anxiously, his hands held tight behind his back.

Finally, Sansa tears her gaze away, hot tears pricking her eyes, her fingers tightening over her arms.

"I'm sorry for your suffering, Sansa, believe me, but this is about more than that," Robb begins, voice rough. "This is about Northern independence, and I can't afford to delay that to cushion your hurt. I need information. I need details. And I need you to give them to me."

Sansa's fingers flex over her arms, her eyes still fixed to the table, still brimming with tears. "I know that," she gets out on a croak.

And oh, what it must take from her, to be scolded like this before her family, and to keep her graces, even still.

Jon grips one hand beneath the other at his back, the muscles in his arms bunching.

Everyone stays silent before the King in the North, gauging his ire.

"But that's all I know," Sansa sighs out, her frustration nearly strangling the words in her throat. She blinks back the tears, the remembrance.

Jon can practically feel the thrum of Catelyn's anxiety beside him.

Robb sighs again, a heat behind the exhale. "You were Tyrion's wife, for Seven's sake. You mean to tell me he let nothing slip? No indication of their force's strength, their next move, any weakness of the Keep, nothing?" he bites out.

A growl brews quietly in Jon's chest at the words, at Tyion's mention, at Robb's forcefulness. His knuckles go white beneath his grip.

Sansa glowers at Robb. "He wasn't one for pillow talk," she clips out, the flush of anger coloring her throat.

Jon sees the hurt behind her eyes clearly.

"Robb," Catelyn whispers at his side, an ache lining her voice.

But Robb ignores it, his gaze narrowing on Sansa. "You were a Lannister bride," he hisses, almost accusatory. "You must know more."

"I know who I am," Sansa croaks out, blinking back the tears, her lip trembling, the words too close to apologetic for Jon's liking.

Too head-bowed for a daughter of the North.

(Too yielding for Sansa.)

Jon bares his teeth, the breath raking from him. His eyes are only for Sansa when he tells her, surely, and with everything of himself, "You're Sansa Stark of Winterfell."

His deep voice heralds a stilted silence in the room, all eyes turning to him upon their utterance. He's painstakingly aware of Catelyn's steady gaze beside him.

Sansa blinks up at him, her mouth parting.

They stare at each other in the quiet of the room.

He wants to go to her then, wants to wrap her in his arms and bury her in his embrace, wants to press her cheek to his chest and breathe against her hair, wants to hold her to his bones, until she knows, indisputably, and without doubt – that she is the blood of Winterfell. That she is the North.

Sansa Stark.

Not Sansa Lannister. Not Sansa the traitor's daughter. Or Sansa the captive.

But Sansa Stark.

Sansa Stark.

This is who she is, who she will always be.

And no one, not even her brother king, can take that from her.

(This is who she is, and who he loves.)

"You're Sansa Stark of Winterfell," he says again, no less certain, no less adamant than the first time.

Robb sighs heavily at the end of the table, his fists bracing to the edge of the wood, his gaze drawn down to the map before them. The fight leaves him slowly, replaced by a weariness that slumps his shoulders in its wake.

Catelyn's hand rises to his shoulder, a measure of comfort in the heated quiet of the room, and Jon is grateful for the release of her intense gaze upon him.

Robb waves his mother's council off, a hand going to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Leave me," he says on a tired exhale, an unspoken surrender to the words.

The group shuffles out wordlessly, Catelyn's hand slipping from her son's shoulder reluctantly.

Jon looks at Sansa one last time before they exit the room.

She meets his gaze almost instantly,

The axis of his body tilts toward hers, the gravity of her almost overwhelming him.

(To hold her to his bones and tell her – )

She is Sansa Stark of Winterfell.

And he is in love with her.

* * *

"I can't seem to... talk to her anymore," Robb tells him, stilling in his wiping of his blade.

Jon glances at his brother beside him, as they sit along one of the benches in the training yard. He raises a brow his way. "Who?" he asks, sliding the whetstone along his own blade, but even in his feigned ignorance, the answer is blaringly apparent.

Robb returns the oiled cloth in his hand to his sword, face screwing up in concentration. "Sansa," he tells him.

Jon grunts his acknowledgement, eyeing Robb beside him. "What do you mean?" he asks carefully, the words tight in his throat.

"You were a Lannister bride."

Jon's grip over Longclaw tightens, his nostrils flaring at the memory.

Robb huffs his frustration, stilling his motions again. "She's different, somehow. She's not the Sansa I used to know."

Jon scoffs. "Aye. Being held captive for years tends to do that to a person."

Robb straightens as he looks at Jon. "You're not blaming me, are you?"

Jon considers his words, his hand stilling the swiping motion over his sword. He sighs out heavily. "It's not about blame."

Robb stays silent, his mouth a tight line. "You think I should have made the trade for Jaime Lannister."

Jon straightens as well, setting his blade aside. "Is this really the conversation you want to have right now?"

"Yes."

Jon frowns. "No, you don't."

Robb turns frustrated. "Just because you're my brother doesn't mean you can speak to your king this way," he says brusquely.

Jon swallows back the instant bile. His mouth thins into a tight line. "See? This is exactly why we can't have this kind of conversation." He stands, moving to replace his whetstone along the rack, sheathing Longclaw.

Robb tosses the oiled cloth in his hand down to the bench as he stands as well, his sword still in his other hand. He grabs for Jon's shoulder and pulls him back. "And why is that?"

"Because you don't want honesty," Jon snaps.

Robb stills at the heat in the words, his hand falling from Jon's shoulder.

Jon sighs, wiping a hand over his mouth. "You just want to be reassured." And maybe he gets that.

The realization softens something in Jon. The heat drains from his gaze, his shoulders slumping with it as he watches Robb.

His brother doesn't answer, his eyes drifting down, his face solemn and hurt.

Jon grabs for his shoulders, catching his gaze once more. "Look, Robb, I can't tell you what the right choice is, or what it would have been. I can't tell you what you should have done. And I can't tell you that I would have done differently in your place."

It's not a truth he likes to admit, not after seeing that pale white scar at the nape of Sansa's neck, not after the stories she's told him from across their shared campfires, not after watching her tremble through nightmares and only stilling when his arms were around her.

But it's a truth, nonetheless.

Jon sighs. "I can't tell you whether you made the wrong decision or not. I can only tell you that Sansa hurt for it. She hurt dearly for it. And you're either okay with that or you're not. That's all I've got."

"Are you okay with it?"

The question surprises him, and he draws his hands back from his shoulders in silence. Jon clears his throat, shoulders pulling back. "What do you mean?"

"Are you okay with my decision? With how it's hurt her?" There's an ache behind the words, but also a need.

But Jon cannot fill that need. He knows that now. Knows that clearer than anything.

He grinds his jaw, thinks of that white scar along her back, thinks of the tears he's wiped from her cheeks, thinks of all the times she asked about their brother while they trekked through the wilderness on their way to Riverrun.

"Did Robb send you?"

And how that question has haunted them, ever since its first utterance.

How he hates that he had to be the one to kill that hope in her, how Robb is the one who made him do it.

"Jon?"

Jon clenches his jaw, the words settling along his tongue. "No, I'm not okay with it. I'm not okay with anything that hurts Sansa."

Robb blinks at him, his shoulders slumping.

Jon has to turn away, before he says any more. Before he reveals all his gruesome little insides. "Apologies, Your Grace, but I don't think I can be of any help to you for this one." He turns to leave, his hand settling along the hilt of Longclaw at his hip, a measure of reassurance, steadiness. He looks back at his brother. "Talk to her, Robb," he says softly.

Because he knows she wants that, too. Even if they should hurt for it.

They promised each other, after all.

They promised no more scars.

He only hopes that Robb isn't one already.

* * *

"Your ankle seems to be better," Catelyn muses, dragging the brush down the length of her daughter's hair.

Sansa glances up and catches her mother's gaze through the mirror, offering a smile with her answer. "Yes, much."

"You twisted it in the storm, you said?"

Sansa nods, her mouth pursing with the memory.

(Her and Jon's drenched forms, the refuge of a cave, Ghost's warmth at her back, and Jon – )

Sansa swallows tightly, her gaze falling to the vanity in front of her.

Catelyn continues her gentle brushing, a thoughtful look on her face as she takes in Sansa's curtain of hair.

Sansa doesn't expand any further on the experience, though her hands bunch together in her lap.

"And Jon was wounded when you were fleeing the Lannisters' men, is that right?"

Sansa looks at her mother through the mirror once more, a question furrowing her brow. "Yes," she says cautiously, unsure of where her mother intends to take the conversation.

"And you tended his wound?"

"Of course," she says easily.

Catelyn is silent for many moments, though she never stills her movements. And then she clears her throat softly. "So, he disrobed before you," she clips out.

Sansa stiffens in her seat, her mind reaching back to the cave, to the bare expanse of his chest pressed to hers, and his arms around her naked form, and the weight of his breath in her neck, and the kiss they'd shared the following morning, the way he'd yielded to her, opened to her breathlessly, and how good he tasted – how she'd wanted nothing more than to taste him further in that moment.

Sansa blinks back the memory, attempting a nonchalant shrug and a reassuring smile, trying to catch her mother's eyes in the mirror once more. "I've seen all my brothers shirtless in the yard before, Mother. It's no matter." She hopes she sounds more convincing than she feels.

Catelyn sets the brush aside and takes Sansa's hair in both hands, her elegant fingers threading through the strands, parting them in familiar ways. She purses her lips, eyes still fixed to her daughter's hair. "You were each younger then, and never alone. Now, it is..." She frowns minutely, turning one strand over another in her hands. "It isn't proper."

Sansa barely manages to smother the huff of frustration that tries to escape her. "What was I supposed to do? Leave him wounded?" The idea is painful, and impossible.

After seeing his scar-riddled chest –

She can't ever imagine leaving him wounded again.

Catelyn sighs, her hands stilling their ministrations. She meets Sansa's gaze through the mirror, her features softening somewhat. "No," she tells her, though it seems to take great effort from her. "No, you did the right thing."

Sansa waits for more, but her mother doesn't continue.

Catelyn keeps her gaze a moment longer, and then she turns back to her work, silently braiding Sansa's hair, any further thoughts on their recent intimacy held behind the cage of her teeth.

Something in Sansa thrums at the uncertainty of her mother's silence, at the unspoken wariness of their sudden closeness. "I'm safe with Jon," she says without preamble, the words coming up of their own accord.

Catelyn doesn't react. She simply continues her braiding.

Sansa's brow furrows in determination, her shoulders setting straighter. "If you believe anything, believe that," she says imploringly, proud of the way her voice doesn't shake with the words.

Catelyn's fingers graze her cheek as she pulls the strands from her face, her eyes never meeting hers through the mirror. "I will try," she tells her.

But while the words should stir hopefulness within her, Sansa finds there is only a fluttering in her gut, a coil of unease that lingers long into the night, many hours after her mother has left her.

* * *

She's on her way back from the sept one morning when he grabs her arm and tugs her into a shadowed alcove, smothering her surprised yelp with his calloused palm over her mouth. She blinks wide eyes up at Jon, catches his wide grin in the shadows, and the relief that floods her has her sagging against the wall behind her. When he releases her mouth, his name comes out in a scolding, a swap to his shoulder for good measure.

He laughs good-naturedly, and Sansa opens her mouth for a scathing retort about his frightening her this early in the morning but then his hands are slipping under her jaw and tilting her face up to his and then his mouth is opening over hers – long and languid and slow.

Sansa can only sigh into it, eyes fluttering shut.

Jon tilts his head, slanting his mouth over hers in a wet, almost filthy kiss, his tongue sweeping into her mouth easily. A quiet moan escapes her at the sensation and a rumble answers in his chest, his breaths coming harder as he presses into her, bracing her back against the stone with his hips pinned to hers. She grips at his shoulders, fingers curling in his tunic, her back arching against him, as she sucks on his tongue, her own kiss growing hungry and heated.

He keeps his hands on her face, his grip tightening over her jaw at her eagerness, as though he aches to release his hold of her, to instead slide his hands down the length of her body, his thumbs just barely grazing the sides of her breasts, gliding over her ribs, along her waist, anchoring at her hips, the small of her back, dangerously low as they grip her to him, pressing them intimately together.

The thought is maddening to her, especially when he keeps his hands so frustratingly secure along her face, even as he kisses her wildly.

She thinks of her morning prayers in the sept, and her cheeks grow pinker (if that were even possible in this moment) at the sudden realization that perhaps she should have also asked for forgiveness, because a surge of boldness courses through her right then and she reaches for his hands, drags them down to her collar, just above the tops of her breasts in her open-necked gown, her chest heaving against him as she continues kissing him.

He groans along her tongue, gripping at her shoulders to steady himself, still ever so honorable, his thumbs unconsciously stretching down to brush along the bare skin of her modest cleavage, and he pulls back suddenly, panting, his mouth hovering over hers, his breath warm as it fans her swollen lips.

She's delirious at the sudden loss of him.

"Sansa..." he gets out roughly, voice laden with desire.

She pushes forward to meet his mouth again, and he sighs as he opens to her, meeting her eager tongue with his own, his weight sagging against her in his surrender. He presses her full against the wall now as his hands slide down her sides before wrapping round her back, dragging her hips into his with a low growl vibrating over her tongue in his mouth.

She startles at the press of hardness into her thigh, suddenly highly aware of his desire, even as her own flutters in her gut, spitting like hot coals.

Jon seems to notice, dragging his wet mouth from her own swollen one reluctantly, his chest heaving against hers, his moan painting her lips for half a breath before he drops his head into her shoulder, hugging her tightly against him.

She tries to take example from his self-control, but it's just so hard with him pressed so deliciously against her, with his hot breath in the crook of her neck, and his hands gripping the back of her dress, one bunched fist scandalously low, his arms trembling with his waning willpower.

She mewls at his ear, the soft, embarrassing whine of his name escaping her lips, and she links her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his throat. "Don't stop," she croons into his skin.

He chuckles at her shoulder, his arms tensing a moment, and then relaxing, unwinding from her to brace his palms along the wall behind her instead. Still, he keeps his weight pressed against hers, keeps their bodies a single, melded line. "I must," he gets out raggedly, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. "Or I truly won't stop."

She thrills at the possibility, not fully understanding where that may lead but knowing that she wants it. She wants him.

Desperately and daily – she wants him.

Like a fever beneath her skin.

She wets her lips, eyes peering up into his when she whispers against his mouth, "Then don't."

Jon closes his eyes on a weighted sigh, grinding his jaw in some semblance of control. When he opens his eyes once more, he chuckles at her unchanged expression – earnest and hopeful. He plants a quick kiss along her nose. "Sansa, this is hardly the time or place for us to... explore."

She scrunches her nose in indignation, her arms loosening around his neck. "Well, you started it."

He actually barks a laugh at that, and Sansa beams at the sight of it.

He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes roving her face with a grin. "Aye, and you intend to finish it, is that it?"

She peers at him, her smile turning mischievous as she twines her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, her back arching subtly. "Precisely," she answers tartly.

Jon's eyes flick to her mouth, his smile slipping as his hand drifts from her hair back to her jaw, his thumb edging along her bottom lip.

Sansa stills at the motion, her mouth parting slightly at the tender yet heated touch.

Jon watches as he brushes his thumb slowly across her mouth, still pink and ripe and swollen from his kisses. He licks his lips unconsciously. "Careful, girl," he breathes out.

Sansa takes the warning for what it is, her own breath coming heavy in her chest again. She swallows thickly, cocking her head to look at him.

His eyes flick up to meet hers at the motion.

"But it... it feels good," she says cautiously, her nails curling along the back of his neck. "Doesn't it feel good for you?" she gets out on a hoarse whisper.

"It feels more than good," Jon says thickly, clearing his throat as he drops his hand from her mouth, leaning back from her for the first time since their mouths met. He still keeps one hand braced to the wall behind her. "And therein lies the danger."

"I'm safe with you, though," she says instinctually. She doesn't even need to think the words. They're simply there. They simply are.

As plain a truth as she's ever known.

Jon laughs softly at her assertion. "You humble me, Sansa. Truth be told, my control is slipping day by day."

She sucks a short breath between her teeth, silently exhilarated at the admission.

His expression softens as he watches her. "I missed you," he says quietly.

Her heart clenches at the words.

He shakes his head, sighing with it. "I always miss you," he admits, leaning close to press his forehead to hers.

"And I, you," she answers, her hands slipping from his neck to slide down to his chest, bracing there. "I want to see you every day," she says without inhibition, the brightness of the emotion bringing a smile back to her face. She turns her head slightly to press a fervent kiss to his cheek.

He chuckles at her unhindered earnestness. "You mean you didn't tire of me all those long weeks on the road?"

"I could never tire of you, Jon," she says sweetly, the truth of it slipping easily from her. She leans back to look at him. "In fact, it's quite the opposite actually. I find myself needier and needier for you as the days go by. Especially when I'm without you."

Jon quiets at her words, his gaze falling to her mouth again. He stares at her lips for a long moment, a slow, steadying breath easing out of his chest as he works his jaw, an ardent look crossing his features. "I should go," he says finally, voice rough when it leaves him. He clears his throat, glancing back up to meet her eyes. "Before I do something I shouldn't." He leans away to glance back out the empty corridor. "And before your mother starts to worry at your absence," he adds on.

Sansa pats his chest affectionately, grabbing his attention once more. "Will you meet me in the gardens this afternoon? I've something to give you."

Jon answers with a brilliant smile. "Alright, then." He leans in and plants a brief, sweet kiss along her lips. He pulls away from her reluctantly, his hand reaching for hers in farewell as he moves into the hall.

Their fingers thread together, before slipping apart, their yearning already building back up in the space between them.

Sansa watches him go, fingers pressed to her lips, heart full.

* * *

She presses the kerchief into his hands, and he stares down at it, at the elegantly stitched white wolf decorating the edge of the material. He blinks dumbly at the gift in his hands.

Sansa beams at him, her hands clasped gracefully before her. "A lord should always carry a favor from his lady, should he not?" she says brightly.

Jon looks up at her, the words stalling in his throat.

Her lashes flutter as pink tinges her cheeks. "I am your lady, am I not?" she asks hesitantly.

Jon releases a short chuckle at her question, before glancing around the secluded corner of the gardens where they stand, and then snaking a hand behind her neck and pulling her toward him, meeting her mouth with his in a fervent kiss, a sigh breaking from him when her hands slide up his chest to anchor at his shoulders. They smile against each other's mouths when they break the kiss.

He pulls from her, his fingers flexing in her hair, his breath fanning her lips. "I can only endeavor to be a worthy lord, my lady."

She presses her nose to his cheek, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Just tell me I'm yours," she sighs impatiently.

Jon chuckles again, a hand going to the back of her head, his other anchored at the small of her back, her favor bunched in his fist. He pulls back just enough to catch her eyes again. "Sansa – "

But she kisses him then, cuts off his words. Her mouth is insistent on his. She pulls back, breathless, her eyes shifting between his. "Tell me, please," she whispers in the space between their lips.

There's something needful to the words, to the way she presses into his chest, the way her fingers dig along his shoulders.

His gaze darkens on hers, his sigh painting her lips. He curls his fingers into the soft silk of her favor, his fist pressing low on her back. "You are," he tells her, voice dragging from his chest. His gaze drops to her mouth, his tongue wetting his lips. "You are mine," he gets out roughly, angling his mouth to press over hers.

Her hands glide along his shoulders to the back of his neck, nails sinking into his hair as she smiles against his lips. "As you are mine," she breathes with certainty, just before he takes her mouth with his.

The kiss is sweet and decadent and indulgent, their mouths moving against each other's slowly, deliberately, tasting each other without demand. His hand tangles in her hair, holding her to him, his tongue swiping into her mouth with a low groan as he presses into her.

Her back hits the bowled edge of the fountain behind her, and her steps stumble, but he's got her securely in his hold, his mouth breaking from hers at the slight jostle. He meets her eyes, and they stare at each other with mischievous grins, the panted heat of their breaths mingling in the air between them. And then he dips his head to her throat, his nose brushing the edge of her jaw, his lips planting a soft, reverent kiss along her skin.

Sansa sighs prettily at his ministrations, her nails catching along the nape of his neck.

The feel of her is nearly dizzying.

"Sansa!" someone calls upon entering the gardens.

Jon tears himself away from her instantly, attempting to steady his pants, a hand smoothing through his hair, his chest heaving at the sudden retreat.

"Sansa!" the voice calls again, getting closer.

Sansa licks her lips, coming back to herself, her trembling hands smoothing over her skirts as she rights herself beside the fountain.

Jon is a respectful distance away from her when he turns to their intruder, a brow raising upon seeing Edmure Tully's entrance into their corner of the gardens.

The Lord of the Riverlands makes his way to Sansa without a look at Jon, his hands grabbing hers. "Oh, Sansa," he sighs out brokenly.

Sansa blinks at him, her breath stalled in her throat. "What is it, Uncle?"

Edmure glances at Jon finally, only briefly, before meeting his niece's gaze once more. "It's your brothers, Bran and Rickon. At Winterfell, Theon Greyjoy, he – he..." Edmure turns almost green at the words, a grimace passing over his features.

Jon stills at Edmure's distress, his body settling into a single, taut focus.

Edmure swallows thickly, his hands tightening over Sansa's. His face hardens, his shoulders going stiff. "You need to go to your mother," he says simply, the words low and full of warning.

Sansa stares at her uncle, a line of concern creasing her brow. She looks to Jon, her mouth tipping open.

But he has no answers for her.

"Go to your mother," Edmure says again, more sure this time, a darkness crossing over his gaze, as he tugs her along after him.

Jon watches her go, his own feet rooted to the ground.

Something sinks deep in his gut – like a stone he will never be able to dig out again.

* * *

Her mother is inconsolable. Her grief is a wailing thing at night, and a quiet haunt by daylight. Sansa watches her from across the breakfast table the following day, watches the way she drags her fork disinterestedly around her plate. Robb reaches for their mother's hand, squeezing it gently.

"You must eat, Mother," he says softly.

Catelyn looks up at him a moment, and then pats his hand atop hers. "I think I'd like to rest," she says hollowly before rising from the table.

Sansa barely manages to choke back her own sob as she watches her mother leave the room. She turns to look at Robb, but his hand is over his face, a heavy sigh leaving him. Edmure and the Blackfish are equally quiet, exchanging worried glances with each other. And then she looks at Jon.

He's already watching her, but he turns his gaze away swiftly when she meets his eyes. He rubs a hand over his mouth, exhaling roughly as he drops his fork atop his plate and leans back in his chair.

None of them look at each other.

Bran and Rickon are there in the room with them, their names hanging unsaid in the stilted air, their deaths stinging like smoke in the eyes.

Their memories raw like a blister.

Sansa closes her eyes and takes a steadying breath. The tears are instant.

Robb glances to her at the first sob that hits air.

She presses a hand to her mouth, eyes flickering open to stare at the half-eaten food on her plate. She doesn't quite manage to smother it. "I'm sorry," she croaks out before it overtakes her, and she pushes her seat back, running for the door, the tears nearly blinding her.

She doesn't look back. She simply runs.

She runs and runs and runs. Through the corridors and past the courtyard, out the gates and across the bridge. Along the riverbank, she runs. She runs and runs and runs, crying all the while, until her legs finally give out and she stumbles to her knees, her hands going out to catch herself, palms squishing in mud, and her mother will scold her for ruining her dress, she knows, but then – but then she's laughing at the thought. A delirious, ragged laugh that breaks on a hiccup, her sob catching along its end, and she inhales sharply, holds it tight to her chest, gasps and shakes and laughs once more, and then – and then she's crying again. Crying so hard it makes her head spin.

Her fingers dig into the mud, her knees aching from when she'd fallen. And she is terribly and uncontrollably – anguished.

Anguished beyond words.

(Her little brothers).

Sansa wails, a hand going to grip at her chest, her heart rending beneath.

(Her little brothers.)

She cries until she can't anymore, until the exhaustion overtakes her.

She sleeps for hours by the riverbank, until she blearily recognizes Robb's arms scooping her up and carrying her back into the keep. She keeps her head pressed to his shoulder.

He never minds the mud.

* * *

Sansa spends the following days with her mother – making sure she eats and bathes and makes the appearances that she needs to. Catelyn humors her attentions without any fuss, something that only makes Sansa more worried for her. But Catelyn doesn't miss any meetings of the lords, doesn't disregard her position on Robb's council, and her detached, cold objectivity on current matters is somehow both admirable and terrifying to Sansa.

Is this what she herself has to look forward to? As a lord or king's wife?

Button up your grief, keep a tight lip, only cry your piece when you've made sure that chamber door is shut.

Sansa wonders if it's ever really worth it in the end.

She hasn't seen Jon in days, and it makes her gut curl in anxiety. Of course, she's seen him, but at a glance, only. Across the breakfast table and three seats down at the meetings of the lords and passing him as he trains in the yard, her arm linked with her mother's.

But she hasn't seen him. Hasn't touched his face or felt his kiss or even traded words past a cursory greeting. She's nearly nauseous at the loss of him.

It's how she finds herself before his chambers one night, when all propriety would have her in bed already, but instead, she tries the latch to his door and breathes a sigh of relief when it opens easily. She closes it behind her quickly, the lock clicking into place.

Jon glances up from his bed where he sits with his arms resting over his knees. "Sansa," he hisses, glancing at the closed door behind her and then back to her. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know," she says, "I know but I – I can't just..." The words seem to die along her tongue. She doesn't really know what she came here to say.

(Except maybe that she's sorry. Sorry that he's lost his brothers, too, and couldn't even be there to help them. Because he was too busy helping her.)

Jon works his jaw silently, staring at her, his eyes already wet.

(They all cry their piece when that chamber door is shut, she realizes.)

"Jon," she says softly, moving from the door.

He rises from his seat, wiping a hand over his eyes, clearing his throat. "You should go," he says, voice rough. He takes her gently by the arm.

"No," she counters, planting her feet.

Jon looks at her, his hand still wrapped around her forearm. He sighs, eyes drifting down. "Please, Sansa, I don't want you to get into trouble."

"Is that why you want me gone?"

He doesn't answer her.

She swallows thickly, cupping her hands around his cheeks to lift his face to hers. "Or is it because you blame me?"

He rears back at her words, brows furrowing sharply down. "What?"

She licks her lips, the words catching along her throat, but she pushes them to air, her voice cracking beneath the weight of them. "Are you mad at me because I kept you from them? Because rescuing me meant you couldn't be there for them?"

Jon releases her arm, his mouth dipping open. "Sansa, no, that's not – I've never – " He stops, clears his throat, notices the tears starting to form along her eyes. He sighs heavily, the grief shaking from him, like snow coming off the boughs, and then he's wrapping his arms around her, dragging her into his embrace, pressed to his chest. He winds a hand into her hair and presses his mouth to her ear. "Oh, Sansa, no, no, I've never thought that."

"Are you sure?" she chokes out, grasping at him, desperate, the sorrow clogging up her throat. "Because I have," she admits, closing her eyes on a sob.

Jon presses a kiss to her temple, his hand bracing along the nape of her neck, his other wrapped around her back. "Gods, no, Sansa, it isn't your fault." He presses another kiss at her ear, along her cheek, at the corner of her mouth, pulling from her just enough to meet her gaze, his hands going to brush the hair from her face, his palms cradling her cheeks as he makes her meet his eyes. "Sansa, this isn't your fault."

She exhales raggedly, her hands bunching in the material of his tunic. "But I'm here and they're not. They're not, Jon, they're – they're dead, oh gods, they're dead, Jon. Bran and Rickon. They're – they're gone, and I'm never going to hear their laughs again or – or brush their hair or clean their cheeks or – gods, or hold them, Jon. I'm never going to hold them again and it should have been me! It should have been me you left. You shouldn't have come for me, Jon, you should have saved them! And then everything would be okay. And mother would be okay. And Robb would be okay. And everything would be fine if you'd just never come at all, if you'd just left me, Jon, if you'd just – "

She doesn't get to finish, because then his mouth is on hers, and it isn't like any kiss he's ever given her before. This kiss is punishing. It's forceful and blunt, all teeth and snarl, his hand grabbing her chin almost painfully, keeping her mouth pressed to his, pushing her back, and she hits the door with a thud, a surprised grunt leaving her. He presses his whole weight against her, trapping her there against the door as he kisses her, slants his mouth over hers and takes and takes and takes, his other hand moving from her face to her hip, dragging her up against him, and he's never been this forward with her before, never been this passionate and she finds herself nearly paralyzed in his hold, her mind jarring into stillness, her hands fisting along his sleeves, her heart thudding painfully in her chest and she's full of it, full of him, and this, and everything, and – and –

He breaks from her, panting, his hand still firmly holding her chin, keeping her gaze fixed to his when her eyes flutter open, her breath raking from her in shallow gasps.

She's never seen him look so angry, his eyes dark and unblinking on hers. It makes her whimper quietly in his hold, squirming beneath him.

"Jon," she pants out breathlessly.

"I need you to understand something," he tells her, hot breath fanning her lips.

Her wide eyes flick between his, her chest heaving against him.

His fingers flex over her chin as he tilts his head to look at her, his gaze roving her face. He swallows tightly, wetting his lips. "If I had the chance, I'd do it again."

Sansa blinks at him, mouth tipping open. "What...?"

He meets her eyes once more, steady and dark and sure. "Even knowing what we know, if I had the chance to do it over again, I'd still come for you."

Her chest tightens inexplicably, her eyes watering without her bidding. "Jon," she moans out, voice threatening to break with her tears.

He surges forward and kisses her again, just as forcefully, just as possessively. He releases her slowly, his mouth still hovering over hers, his breath still painting her lips. "Every time – a thousand times – I would come for you. Do you understand?"

She nods mutely, because he has silenced any words she could speak, anyway. She's overcome, suddenly, so she wraps her arms around him and meets his mouth with hers once more, pulling him back against her, and he follows easily, pressing her into the door behind her, his hands roving her form greedily.

It's a desperate, needful grasping for each other – full of loneliness and guilt. But also full of longing, acceptance.

His hands meet the soft flesh of her body for the first time, braced against her trembling stomach when they dip beneath the hem of her night shirt, and the touch burns beyond anything she's ever felt before.

His hands meet her, and she burns.

She thinks there's a poem in there somewhere, or a song maybe, a tale like the ones she used to love.

But right now, in this moment, it's only Jon.

It's only Jon, and it's only her, and it's only them.

It's the way he kisses her like he'll never get the chance again.

It's the way he cradles her face in his hands – like she is something precious and worthy and needed.

It's the way she knows, without doubt, and without regret:

Every time – a thousand times – she'd wait for him.

[physalian]

When a Villain’s “Villainy” Dismisses Their Valid Argument For Change (Or, Marvel)

Marvel stories aren’t the only ones that pull the whole “this villain has a very valid and justified stance on something socially acceptable but actually terrible and- oh, nvm, they’re a murderer, thus they’re totally bad,” schtick, but they’re the loudest voices.

Pop Culture Detective did this deep dive into how the “Avengers” really are “Avengers” (as opposed to “Prevengers,” like Tony points out) because they don’t have any initiatives or social stances that promote change, they just stop villains from making change. Most damning example of this character is Killmonger.

Excellent deep dive, go watch it. I won’t regurgitate it here. Instead, I’ll talk about how these villains are also attempts at having depth and nuance and are very hit-and-miss about it.

So. Villains with nuance: How to write a character with something to say, while showing that their way of going about it is wrong, while also still agreeing that they were right.

—

This isn’t actually that hard, y’all. Marvel doesn’t do it because they don’t want to piss off the rich people or be “woke”.

So say I have my antagonist named…. Wilson.

Wilson’s goal: prison reform/dismantling the for-profit punitive “justice” system that works to keep people in the system instead of helpful rehab.

Wilson’s motivation: that his dad got incarcerated for possession of drugs, and through a series of Very Bad and Corrupt Legal Practices, Wilson’s dad spent 45 years in prison and died there.

Wilson’s plan: peacefully protest, then when that doesn't work and he's exhausted all other legal avenues, systematically blackmail every cop, justice, and prison employee that he deems corrupt, racist, etc, on the grounds of either “just following orders” or “that’s how it was” isn’t good enough in effort to get them fired/ruin their lives. Doesn’t matter how involved in his dad’s incarceration these people are, Wilson wants to make a statement, and he’s going to make it as loud as possible.

Enter the hero: Sarah.

She’s the seasoned detective trying to catch him because crime is crime and he’s done a lot of it.

Marvel’s hypothetical version of this story: Wilson joins and organizes several peaceful protests and marches and nonviolent gatherings, gathering a vocal following that’s concerning to local, then national, government officials when he gains more power than they’re comfortable with. Around halfway through the story, Wilson breaks and starts randomly murdering these same people just so the audience doesn’t start to root for him.

Marvel’s solution: Wilson ends up in prison, or dead from a high and ambiguous fall, due to his own actions because murder is bad and he’s done a lot of it. Prison reform, what?

Or: Wilson ends up in prison because he still committed violence against a lot of innocent people and the punishments he enacted didn’t fit their crimes. The populace remains horrified by his actions, mourn the corrupt government people, and claim this is exactly why the prison system is the way it is. Sarah, however, understands that Wilson was right, and works for the rest of her career on enacting prison reform.

You know, Zootopia did this pretty well, for a kids’ movie, by having Judy publicly admit that what they’re doing is wrong and try to change it, while also simultaneously botching it entirely.

Ironically, Marvel does have a property that tries its damndest to do the “villain actually has a point, he’s just going about proving it the wrong way” and that’s X-Men. Their best efforts aren’t the ‘ha ha CGI explosion of cool mutant powers’ but the social commentary these characters were meant to reflect.

You can write a villain with a point. But if you’re going to go far enough to make a polarizing statement in your work, knowing it will piss people off, commit to that message and don’t abandon it the second you’ve made them “irredeemable”.

That, and, like Zootopia, it gives your hero so much more nuance when they can admit their staunch, heroic worldview is flawed and needs growth, or complete dismantling, and that hard life lessons can come from anywhere, not just their heroes—particularly when they themselves are an archetypical “hero”. (also killing this complicated villain instead of giving them the chance to see the proper enactment of the change they want to see in the world is a huge missed opportunity).

Not limited to superhero stories, either, or hot button issues like prison reform. Do it in fantasy with fantasy bigotry. It doesn’t have to be a huge global plot either. “Critical voice is painted as the villain and resorts to unsavory-to-illegal activity to stay alive and/or promote their cause” also fits plenty of war stories big and small.

Heck, go even smaller, with lower stakes, and you could write about a high school bully victim who goes too far in trying to get justice/catharsis when the law doesn’t do enough about it. Write about a dysfunctional family. This trope is so flexible it’s disappointing how rarely it’s done well.

Whatever the case:

Make a problem in the world of your story that the society/powers that be of that story doesn’t actually think is a problem, or isn’t doing enough to solve

Make solving this problem the villain’s goal

Make the villain’s plan to solving this problem deeply flawed and the wrong way to do it

Make the hero (and the narrative) recognize that their intentions are in the right place, the actions aren’t, but the villain’s plight was heard, and the hero, presumably with the social and political power to enact real change, resolves to make that change.

The villain loses, but they also still win.

I am sick and tired of throwing the whole character out and trying to eat your cake and have it, too, pretending to have a deep and nuanced narrative that ends up saying nothing more than “crime is always wrong no matter the circumstances if the governing bodies aren’t paying you to commit those crimes.”

I’m not a huge fan of Black Panther (I think by that point my Marvel fatigue on all these new characters was starting to creep in), but they really did Killmonger dirty, didn’t they?