#more stories to come soon!

[shady-tavern]

Preview for "Wishmaker" the July Patreon Short Story

(slight warnings ahead for death and murder and implied harm to children, nothing graphic or specific, but please take care of yourselves)

*.*.*

The young god was born cradled in the colors of the sky, with long flowing hair that was studded with countless of stars. An entire galaxy drifted and wove in and out of his hair and the sun and moon loved him immediately, claiming him as theirs.

"You are the guardian of stars," the other gods told him. "Guard your powers well."

The other gods taught him everything he had to know with love and care and great wisdom. They told him what it meant to carry all the stars in the world in his hair and to usher the sun and moon along when they liked to tangle themselves into his strands for too long, giggling mischievously.

The little god was happy up in the eternal world of the divine, but soon his gaze was drawn down to the mortal world. It was just so curious, so wild. Untamed and full of possibility and potential. He found himself watching the mortal world the same way mortal children watched the passing of seasons, a quiet awe for things no one could truly control.

"Do not let them lure you into giving up your powers," one of the other gods warned him with a serious, solemn voice when they caught him watching. "You will lose pieces of yourself until nothing is left."

"Has that happened before?" the boy-god asked and the others around him grew grim and solemn.

"Two of us vanished," the goddess of the ocean, admitted quietly. "We asked Life and Death, the oldest of us, the ones watching over fate, if they knew anything but they hadn't seen them."

"We looked everywhere we could," the goddess of crafts said, who had built the eternal palace with her own two hands. "But they could not be found."

"Who were they?" the young god asked softly, almost afraid of the answer when he realized just how keenly the loss of the missing gods was felt by everyone. A heavy moment of silence followed his question.

"The goddess of love vanished first," the god of war answered, his voice solemn and heavy with old but not diminished grief.

"And then the god of celebrations and joy disappeared," the godling of remembrance, of yesterday and today and tomorrow, answered, soft like speaking any louder would further hurt their aching heart.

"They loved the world and it cost them everything," the goddess of storms and lightning added. "If you give up too much of yourself, we will lose you forever as well, little one. So don't listen to the mortals, they steal everything and give nothing back."

The little boy-god nodded seriously and promised to be careful so he could stay where he was. At home, safe with the others. Where he could learn more about his powers and how to control them. Where he could grow to be as tall and impressive and beautiful as all the others.

He combed out his hair dutifully and ushered the sun and moon on when they got tangled in the strands for too long and he let the stars shine bright every night. Every dawn and dusk his stars were the first to appear and the last to leave, connecting day and night as surely as the tides let the ocean kiss the land.

Until he heard a terrible cry and couldn't help but peek below. A girl was kneeling in the grass and thick plumes of fire were rising from somewhere behind her. A village burning and plundered, many bodies slain in the dirt. She held a little boy in her arms, who was bleeding heavily.

"Please," she begged and the boy-god realized she was talking to the stars, for the moon was asleep that night, held securely in his arms. She spoke to the stars, for there seemed to be no one else she could turn to. "Please let me save my brother. Somehow. Please, anything you want, anything I can give you is yours!"

The little god felt terrible for the girl and the boy, but he could not make or accept deals. That power belonged to one of the other gods and was carefully guarded and these days it was never used, kept far away from the mortal world lest another god vanished without a trace.

"Please," she whispered on a broken sob. "Please, if anyone is listening."

The little god's heart broke, splintering with an ache that he had not felt before, coddled and protected as he was in the eternal palace. He was listening, he thought as the girl sobbed, holding the bleeding boy with infinite care and a terrible, looming loss.

He was listening and he couldn't make deals, but...he looked at his hair. Stars were made of something special and there were only so many. But, he reasoned as he reached out and gently plucked one from his hair, there were so very many. Surely. Surely he could give one away.

So he let the star drop down, watched as it streaked across the sky and towards the girl, who looked up with a gasp, instinctively reaching out. She caught the star, holding the drop of white-gold, glowing power in her hands and she immediately pressed it to her brother's chest, whispering fervent prayers under her breath.

The boy's wounds closed and he gasped for air and the girl laughed and cried as she hugged him close and the little god laughed and cried with her, clapping his hands in delight.

As the girl at last let go of her brother, she looked up at the sky. "Thank you," she whispered with such heart-felt gratitude that it echoed in the little god's chest like a second heart-beat. "I will never forget this."

With those words she climbed to her feet, helped her brother onto her back and rushed away from the burning village. Away from the horrible people with hearts of soot and ash, towards the safety of the horizon.

The little god ducked away from the edge of the palace with a smile and he told no one about his little misbehaving, but none of the gods noticed one little star missing. No one noticed what he had done, but that didn't matter, because that little star had changed the lives of two people entirely.

The little god went about his life, caring for the stars and never letting the sun and moon tangle in his hair for too long and he held them only when they needed to sleep. As sweet as they were, the world needed them, though he made sure to always send them moving along with a little kiss, which made them giggle and glow brighter.

And then he heard another desperate voice one night. Most of the other gods were asleep, only a small handful were awake, whose domain either crossed into the dark or was the dark, so he could sneak to the edge of the eternal palace unnoticed.

It was a couple, weak and thin and unable to go on any further. And they prayed and begged for anyone to listen. Anyone at all. Just a little help, they said. Just a little miracle.

"We need to get this medicine to our families," the husband said with tears streaming down his face, his wife and he clutching bundled bottles to their chests. "Please, we walked so far just to get it. Take our souls after, but please, let us save them first."

So the boy reached into his hair and plucked out one of his stars. He dropped it over the edge, watching it streak across the sky and the husband and wife gasped and caught it, almost dropping it as they fumbled to keep hold of the bottles at the same time. The moment their hands touched the star, it soaked into their skin, briefly making their bodies glow.

When the glow faded, they were strong and recovered and they leapt to their feet, deeply grateful, before they ran on. The boy peeked over the edge and watched as they ran and ran until dawn crested and they reached a cute little town. And he watched with a relieved smile as they gave everyone the medicine they had risked their lives for, saving their people from a terrible illness.

With a giggle he went to bed, curling up among the strands of the aurora and he cushioned his head on all the colors of the sky as he drifted off.

Once more, none of the other gods noticed a star was missing and as time passed, the boy found himself growing bolder and bolder. He never forgot the faces of the girl and the couple, the relief and gratitude and how they used his gift, their wishes, to help those around them. To rescue the ones they loved.

More and more often he found himself wandering the edge of the eternal palace and more and more often he heard voices, calling out. A plea for help that was heard by no one, for the palace walls were thick and the gods were busy caring for their domains.

Not only that, the little god realized as he watched the gods go about their day. They were hurting, still, over the loss of their own. They upheld the balance, they ensured the seasons came and went, that crops grew and water flowed and the world kept moving forward, but their hearts were heavy. They grieved what the mortal world had taken and could no longer love it as they once had. Could no longer listen to it as they once had.

But the little boy did. He did not remember the missing gods and he always took care of his tasks swiftly. So he listened and sooner or later, he found himself helping. He didn't always give stars away, for some wishes were made during the day and the stars in his hair evaded his fingers like flowing water.

But he found he could ask the sun for help, could shine guiding lights with a gentle touch, illuminating protective caves to shelter travelers, guiding the lost and terrified out of deep forests and sometimes he used the sun to blind pursuers to allow defenseless people their escape.

It filled him with great joy to help and every star he sent down to the world at night to fulfill a wish was given with nothing but the hope that it would do good. That it would give the people what they needed and had asked for.

But as the other gods had warned him, the stars in his hair did not regrow. They became less and less to the point where the other gods noticed at last and they scolded the boy terribly, fearing for him, before telling him he was no longer allowed to leave the palace walls.

"Do not fall like the others," they warned him. "Guard the rest of your powers fiercely, little one. Or nothing will be left."

And, for a time, the boy did as they asked. But as the days passed, he noticed that more and more often he heard people call out. They were talking to the stars now, putting wishes on them and while many made him smile and clap his hands in joy, some made him feel rather fretful. 

He worried, for the people who had no one else. He understood that the other gods didn't want to share more of their powers, that they had already given much of themselves when they had made the world and in the end, there was only so much to go around. 

He was scared of falling, too. Of losing the home and family he loved so very much.

But in the end, he heard a child cry, helpless and small and all alone and he slipped outside when no one was watching and quickly dropped a star over the edge. He couldn't have ignored the little one, nor could he have ignored the quiet prayers of an old woman which drew him out of the palace once more after that.

The galaxy of stars in his hair had shrunk down to a glittering net and yet, he reached up and plucked another one, letting it drop to fulfil the old woman's wish that her children and grandchildren may survive the plague safely.

"Sweet little young one," the goddess of storms said when she found him a moment later, great grief in her voice. "Do you not wish to stay here with us? Do you feel unsafe or imprisoned? Are you unhappy?"

"No, of course not," he promised, reaching out and she picked him up, wrapping his arms around her. "I love you all so much."

"But?" she asked, quiet and gentle and still so very mournful.

"But I am loved and safe and happy," he said. "You all are here for me no matter what." He peered past her to the edge that she carried him away from. "But they don't have anyone."

"I understand, sweet child, but your stars will never return to you," the goddess said. "We cannot do anything to stop you from falling once you've given too much of your godly powers away. So please, keep the last few and save us and yourself the grief of loss."

The boy promised and she pressed a kiss to his temple and set him down to go play, but deep down, the boy was worried he could not keep that promise, even if he wanted to.

*.*.*

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@laureleikirsch

[achamocha]

english is not my first language please have mercy

[asteraws]

my clown college grad project from december last year 🎪

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

After months of deliberation, I have decided to restart Poorly-Drawn-MDZS with a brand new style!

[Episode Directory]  [First] -> Next

[cinefairy]

just because you are a god…doesn’t mean you are not human.

something i have seen quite often on this site whether that is in asks or just in general is that we learn that we are gods of our reality and after that fact we treat ourselves differently. more harsher, more colder.

just because we are gods, doesnt mean we are immune to feeling bad. you can still be god and feel hurt, upset & frustrated— those emotions dont make you appear ‘less than’ a god. it just shows that you are still human.

please treat yourselves as you would a friend— please treat yourself kinder, more lovingly, please live for the present and find the beauty in your daily life. you don’t need to hold out on yourself because you’re currently manifesting something.

just because you have made a mistake or reacted to the 3D or whatever it is you have done, it doesn’t make you a bad manifestor it doesn’t make you less than a god and i really hope you understand that.

this mindset that you have to demonise yourself or treat yourself colder because you’ve made a mistake is something you should try to abandon. its not worth your mental health.

you’re doing your best and thats all that really matters. so it take it one step at a time— there is no rush, there is no deadline. there is nothing to compete for. so let your feelings pass, they are only temporary. it’ll all be okay.

[booasaur]

Special Ops: Lioness - 1x07

[laurrelise]

alas, i’m nothing but a child

guys i’m dumbassing again

[sillybun33]

HTF: THE PERFECT CREATIONS AU

⚠️‼️TW: BLOOD, GORE, AND BODY HORROR under cut‼️⚠️

Inspired by those mlp infection aus, main lore thing is that one day the idol was destroyed, releasing a curse in the form of a virus that started turning people into cannibalistic rotting god worshippers

[ask-lu-wild]

[teddybearsims]

Jude for Dazed - May 2024 Issue x

[esprei]

he munch on berry

[astravires]

The other day when we were walking by the graveyard near the house, you asked me if I thought we would ever die And if life and love both fade so predictably, we've made ourselves a kind of predictable lie And so I pictured us like corpses, lying side by side in pieces in some dark and lonely plot under a bough We looked so silly there, all decomposed, half turned to dust in tattered clothes Though we probably look just as silly now

[stressedanime]

i need to stop thinking about when jason and leo realized that the to storm or fire line of the prophecy probably meant one of them was going to die, this was jasons reaction:

"As much as Jason loved his life, he couldn't let his friend die for his sake. He could never live with the guilt."

And then that choice was taken from him, meaning, he was absolutely riddled with guilt. And then he was given another prophecy where it was him or a friend fated to die. and he was not going to let that choice be taken from him again.

At least they let him know Leo was okay right before he died. Even though they didn't get the chance to see each other again, he was able to make the choice and sacrifice himself for a friend with all his guilt lifted.

[passivenovember]

Harringrove Relay Race -- passing the torch to @raven-cl ! Run babe RUN!

--

blooming forth, it's every color in the moments it has left.

--

Turns out, shit hits the fan in the dark. 

Steve’s known that. It’s still a surprise when Billy takes Max and hits the ground hot with his feet aching after a long shift at the pool, even though his sandals are covered in blood. His. Neil's.

Doesn't actually matter, because when Steve wakes up to a phone call so late in the night he thinks someone's gotta be dead or dying, or they need to get sucked off like they need air and water and Steve's gotten himself penciled in as the number-one, go-to asshat for both types of situations--

Point is, the phone goddamn rings. Sounds like pennies being thrown against the walls of Steve’s two-bedroom apartment. And it's the middle of the night. All that matters is that when Steve rolls over and yanks the receiver from its cradle, all, "Someone better be dying–”

Billy's trying his best not to cry. "I hit him," Billy says, an earthquake that shakes the foundation of the city. That gets Steve wide-eyed and fearful and awake. "Fuck, Steve, I hit him--"

“What?” Steve sits ramrod in bed, covers a limp and useless pool around him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm. There's, like. Blood," Billy says, "I guess."

"You guess?"

"I'm okay. Nothing’s broken," Billy pulls away from the phone to say something to someone. To Max, Steve would bet money on it. And then he says, "I have blood on my feet. And. Max has blood in her hair so it looks black, almost, and. Shit, Steve, I hit him--"

"Where are you?”

"--It might be Neil's blood," Billy tells him. Like Steve's lost in the weeds, here. Like he needs a compass pointing him toward the huge, terrible obvious truth. "I--"

"Fuck who's blood it is," Steve tells him, already upright struggling into a pair of week-old jeans. He tries not to focus on that, swallows against the urge to be harsh with himself, because he was knocked out two minutes ago, dreaming of the pretty pink pucker of Billy's cunt when the phone rang. "That's not important. Where are you," Steve asks, cock still hard because he's human, getting tangled in the phone cord, "You said. Is Max--"

"She's okay. We're at a gas station about twenty miles outside of town."

Steve's hard-on dies. "Twenty miles outside of town?"

"Yeah."

"What are you talking about?" Steve doesn't put a shirt on. He throws a jacket over his chest. Billy's jacket. Doesn't even zip the thing. "Never mind. I'm coming to get you."

"The car works, you don't need to get out of bed."

"I'm dressed, I'm out of bed," Steve says, teasing, "Stay put. Are you, like. East or west, twenty miles out of town?"

"Steve," Billy says, and it casts an unflattering spotlight on everything.

Steve ducks to hide from it, searching under his bed for a pair of shoes. "Okay, yeah. Stupid fucking question to ask, but I was asleep--"

"We have to go," Billy tells him.

"Okay," Steve says quickly. Doesn't like the tone of Billy's voice. "Let's go, blue. Where are we going?"

“Max and I–”

“--And you and me,” Steve finishes for him.

“Steve,” Billy says. “You know Max and I can't stay here."

Steve shoves his bare feet into a pair of shoes. Rain boots. "So, you're just gonna leave? Without saying goodbye? There’s no other option, here?”

"This isn't about you."

"Fine," Steve says, stalking over to his dresser mirror. The phone cord tugs on him, not nearly long enough, and he fights the urge to rip it out of the wall. Doesn’t. 'Cause. He'd lose Billy.

Steve fiddles with it, anyway, trying to keep calm. “How’re you gonna get there?” 

“We’ll drive.”

“Okay, and what happens when you get to where you’re going?”

“Wow, aren’t you the bearer of bad fuckin’ news–”

“--Billy, you don't have money.”

“So?”

“So, I have money,” Steve concludes, “A shit load of it.”

"Fuck you, I have a shitload of money."

"No, you don't."

"Yeah huh, I've been saving up."

Steve snorts, grasping at straws because. It’s true. The exact opposite of everything Steve’s been hoping would never happen, the same thing as a knife slicing through his heart. Billy’s been saving. Steve knows he’s been saving because Steve pays for every date because Steve’s a dead fuckin’ end and has nothing to goddamn lose by treating his boy right. He’s not going anywhere from here, but Billy–

"You're not leaving,” Steve says. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Fine, then,” Steve backtracks expertly, a perk of what he learned dating girls for nineteen years before this. “You can’t go without saying goodbye.”

“Sap.”

“Let me kiss you, man. I fuckin’. I love--"

"--Steve--"

"--No, it's alright. I gotta say this, 'cause. Every fucking thing in my life is about you, right?"

Billy groans. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled by the wall of whatever payphone booth he's standing in. "You're so annoying."

"So are you. I'm being honest," Steve says. He ducks, a little, peering at his reflection from across the room so he can run a hand through his hair, at least, 'cause.

He's still got a crush on Billy, after all this time. Sue him.

"You're, like," Steve says intelligently, choking to death. "You're everything. You chopped everything up with just bein' yourself and slid into its place and I fuckin' care about you more than. Everything. And if you're going to run away to California--"

"--Who said I was--"

"--Twenty miles west outside of Hawkins?" Steve points out.

Billy doesn't say anything.

Through the static of the phone line, Steve imagines him cast in the grimy street glow of payphone booth glass, tempered but breaking. Twenty miles away but already gone.

Makes Steve crazy. Makes him want to hold on tighter, hard enough to break his own fingers. "I just," He starts, turning from the mirror, "I always thought, or. Maybe I've been thinking lately that if you're going to California, I'd be there to help."

To see you off. To hold your hand. To beg you to make room enough in your suitcase for me to come along–

"Oh yeah? You've been thinking that always?" Billy teases, and. It's gotta be a good thing. That even though he has blood on his feet, he's feeling okay enough to crack-wise.

"Please," Steve says. Tells him. Begs. Has nothing left to do but make it through this phone call even though he's about to shake loose from his own skin.

Steve is very cool these days.

Billy pulls away from the phone and says something, to Max, in a soft, pillow-top rumble that does shit, like. To Steve's belly. His heart. The very rotten, love-sick matter of who he is. Who Billy has turned him into.

Steve bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood, swallowing every single please please please that shifts like the fabric of a sourdough starter in the back of his throat. Steve paces. Taps his foot. Digs his nails into the palm of his free hand while Billy and Max argue in hushed voices for what feels like hours and years.

Finally, Billy says, "Okay, fuckin'. What happens if Neil hears that we haven't left town?"

Steve has to focus so his knees don't give out, full of relief. "That won’t happen. No one pays attention to me. This is an apartment complex."

"Yeah, but what if he drives by and sees the car?"

"I'll kill him," Steve says. Simple, because it is.

Billy snorts. It almost, almost, sounds like a laugh. "'Kay, well. Say he doesn't go looking for the Camaro. What if he calls Hawkins High to try and find out about Max?”

“He won’t.”

“You’re fuckin’ stupid for saying that,” Billy snaps, “Neil doesn’t give a shit about me but her? He won’t let her–”

“--I won’t let him–”

“Shut up; just. What if he shows up during fifth period and--"

"--We're both over eighteen. We’re old as shit, old enough to drink, almost, We'll. I dunno. We’ll change her emergency contact first thing tomorrow so they'll call me at the video store when he breaks into the building," Steve says, "And then I can take my fifteen-minute break to drive over there and kill him."

Billy does laugh that time. Sounds like it hurts. He pulls away from the phone to repeat Steve's evil plan to Max, who starts laughing, too, and Steve would do anything for them. He would be anything for them.

"Come over," Steve says, coiling the phone line around his hand, "Just until we can figure something else out. We can park your car ‘round back by the slop sinks. No one ever goes over there, we can hide you."

"Steve--"

"I can't watch you walk away from me, Billy," Steve says, and. His voice. Fuckin’. Cracks. Like glass and barren earth. A fist to the back of his own head, still. Desperately, pathetically in love with Billy even after all this time. Still drowning in the intensity of it. Sue him.

"Fuck, this is so fucking dumb," Billy says, aching. But he tells Max to sit in the car.

Steve considers it a win.

--

He decides not to waste the get-up.

Twenty miles'll go by in a heartbeat, and Billy has a tendency to sugarcoat shit when it comes to the marks Neil Hargrove leaves behind. Tends to get jumpy, ready to go pedal-to-the-metal.

Steve prepares for the worst. Makes three cups of coffee, to fight the dregs of the worst, and then dumps them into the sink when he remembers that Max is sixteen years old and it's a Wednesday. Thursday, now.

Whatever.

He makes tea, instead, and sits in the shitty lawn chair on his porch, sipping a mug of the very same chamomile bullshit that Robin keeps buying him.

Steve tries to cobble together a plan in under 30 minutes.

He imagines Billy, shaking and scared and covered in blood, on the canvas chair next to him. Asking how. How are you going to do this? How are you going to prove yourself a safe house for me and my kid sister?

Steve tries not to swallow his tongue, choking to death on the absolute weight of such a responsibility. He focuses on not dying. Hones in on how pissed Robin would be to discover such a close call, and how she would remind him to list the facts.

Truth is, a two-bedroom apartment is more than enough room, Steve tells her. Tells Billy, who looks easier to convince than the one who's on his way in from the edge of town. Everything will be alright. He'll fix up the couch for Max until he can get down to Red Oak Furniture after work tomorrow for a bed frame. He'll need to dip into his savings, but a sixteen year old girl needs her own space, she needs a bed.

Tears slide down Billy's cheeks and Robin disappears. When Billy cries he has a way of wounding everything around him.

His eyes say we need groceries. Steve needs to shop for groceries. Max won't eat a vegetable, but she's still growing, Harrington, and Steve doesn't make enough dough to afford fresh ingredients every week, just when he's putting on his a-game to get into Billy's pants, but.

He's always trying to get into Billy's pants.

Everything boils down to money. Steve needs a new job.

He sips Robin's shitty fuckin' chamomile and tries to focus on the immediate, too piss-poor to list the facts. He'll make tea when they arrive. Dinner, if they're hungry. The couch made up. The tea, drank, and tomorrow when the blood is gone from Billy's feet and his tears have dried, Steve'll call his father and beg for an assistant gig at the office downtown. He's got mouths to feed, now, he's got--

Billy's Camaro swings into view.

Steve jumps to his feet, rain boots squeaking, and holds his breath when the car disappears around the corner, parking where Steve said it would be safe.

--

"We're only staying for the night," Billy tells him, instead of hello, voice hard as marble the second Steve is close enough to really hear it.

Max throws the passenger door open.

Her backpack is stuffed. Soft. “What the fuck are you wearing?” Max demands. 

Steve shifts under the intensity of her stare, embarrassed. “Billy said. I was gonna come and–”

“--You look stupid,” Max tells him helpfully. 

Before Steve can move or breathe or think, Max storms past him in a fury of wild red hair and red, wet cheeks. "Thanks," Steve says, but the door slams shut before she hears him.

The entire apartment complex shakes. Hawkins, too, and the world, beyond that. Steve can't take his eyes off it, for a second. For a lifetime. It's a black hole, eating and eating and eating--

"Sorry about that," Billy says. When Steve looks at him, Billy's still half-hanging out of the car. One foot on the ground. Leaning against the gaping wound of the driver's seat with his arm on the lip of the door, like. Steve's going to take Max and tell Billy to fuck off forever.

His head is bald.

The cut is uneven, vicious. Almost like--

"Hey, pretty thing," Steve says. Everything's yellow from the Camaro's headlights, everything lies shattered in the grass around them. "Don't worry about it, she's upset."

Billy nods, the rest of him terrible and still.

Steve aches. He moves closer. "Baby. Do you want to come inside?"

"I didn't get to pack a bag," Billy says, like it matters, somehow.

It doesn't. "I have clothes you can wear," Steve tells him, padding closer, hands splayed as if approaching some sweet, terrified, rabid animal. “You know that you can have whatever you want, right? With me?”

Billy nods again, still unmoving. Still unseeing. "We're just staying until sunrise," Billy tells him, trained on the soft, fleshy landing of Steve's throat as it swings into view. "Just until it's light enough."

Billy's ear bleeds. Or. It did, at one point. Like someone came at him with a butcher's knife, swinging blindly but only getting his hair.

Steve has trouble remembering that the world isn’t burning around them

"It's just,” Billy tries, “It's not safe to drive when it's dark like this, y'know?"

"I know," Steve says. Billy's chest heaves like he's being chased, so. Steve nods. "Max is lucky to have someone like you. Someone who knows what they're doing."

"Right. So fucking lucky," Billy shakes his head, snorting bitterly. "Doesn't matter. Couple hours and we're gone, Harrington. I swear."

Steve reaches the car door, fiddling with its handle. Touching Billy without. Touching him. Testing the waters. "I'm not worried about it."

"You've probably never had to run from your fuckin’ house in the middle of the night," Billy tells him, finally looking at Steve but not. Seeing him. "This is the third time for me. First for Max."

Steve notices a black eye. A split lip.

Billy's still the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "I've never had to run," Steve tells him, because it's easiest to get the hard shit out of the way, first.

He wants to know about the other two times.

He wants to ask about California. If things were the same with his father there. If Billy's really going as soon as it's light out. If the blood in Max’s hair is her own, and how Billy would feel about Steve pressing his thumbs into Neil's eye sockets before the sun rises and Billy has the chance to run away.

Maybe. The proven death of this monster will change things.

Steve inches closer, instead, past the lip of the car door. He slips into Billy's space, grateful when Billy lets Steve touch his chest, checking for injuries.

"I could always go home, before," Billy says, eyes unfocused over Steve's shoulder when fingers prod at his ribcage, "But. I never had Max. I always had to go home to make sure she was gonna be okay without me, and then I'd be too scared to leave her behind so I’d just stay put until–"

"Does it hurt when I press down like this?"

Billy shakes his head, "Steve. She's sixteen--"

"What about here? Does this hurt?"

"She wouldn't stay," Billy looks at him, then, tracking whatever emotion breaks like a wave between them, "Neil started, and. It got bad, Steve. And she wouldn't fuckin' stay put like I told her to, and now. We have no place to--"

"--Is she hurt?"

"She's homeless," Billy says. Steve exhales through his nose, trying to keep up. "We're homeless. I made her homeless," Billy tells him, with rising panic.

Steve takes his hand. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"We don't have anywhere to live, Steve."

"Billy, look at me," Steve grabs his face gingerly, staring into his beautiful, shattered, empty eyes. "You live here with me, baby. We're here together and I'm not going to let anything happen to you, right? Yes?"

Billy blinks at him, coming back to himself. He nods. "Just until tomorrow, right? Until I can--"

“Sure, whatever,” Steve says, playing along if that's what will get him into the house.

--

The shower's running.

Billy won't let go of Steve's hand so they shuffle through the cramped living room together on plan b, stuck like paper dolls. Max has made up the couch, and already has the T.V. on, so Steve leads Billy to the bedroom, depositing him gingerly onto the unmade mattress.

“Sit still,” Steve tells him.

“I know,” Billy says, far away even as he strangles the blood from Steve’s wrist. “Max was right, you look like a dork.”

“I was asleep when you called,” Steve says thinly. “I thought you were running away.”

“I was.”

“Ah, truth comes out,” Steve ducks to retrieve a battered first aid kit from under the nightstand, because. This isn't the first time Billy's shown up in the middle of the night but it’s the worst shape Steve’s seen.

Steve swallows that, too, and struggles to get the fuckin' thing open with only one hand. He can't feel the other, Billy's holding on so tight, but Steve's not complaining.

He holds on just as tight. Just as hard. Wonders what counts as running off, in Billy's mind. If there are certain boxes Neil has to check to push Billy to that point, the 'running away and never coming back,' point, and Steve can't sift through his rampant emotions quick enough to discover what it means that all those times Billy stumbled through the dark and Steve found him, bruised and bleeding all over Mrs. Harrington’s imported Oak flooring, that wasn't the worst of it.

“You don’t need stitches,” Steve says. 

“You’re a good nurse,” Billy says, wincing at the forward burn of isopropyl against his ear lobe, “You’re hot. Anyone ever tell you that, Harrington.”

Steve grins, “Once or twice, maybe.”

“Real dime,” Billy says, working to meld their pulses together until they’re one. 

Steve swallows a lump in his throat, everything he feels for this boy rushing to sit like water in his lungs. “Almost done,” Steve says. Wondering how someone could hurt this boy, this spot of gold. This vial of sunlight.

Billy winks at him, even though it’s starting to swell shut. “Thanks, doc,” He says.

“Don’t mention it,” Steve tells him, instead of run. 

Instead you should’ve been a thousand miles away, by now. 

Instead of drag me along.

--

It's ten minutes after Billy disappears into the bathroom before Steve ventures out with his first aid kit clutched in the hand Billy wouldn't let go of. 

His fingers are still numb.

Max sees him and the aid box and immediately snorts at, incredulous. "I'm fine, Harrington, you can put your Barbie band-aids away."

Landmine. "Sure.”

“And your rain boots. You look–”

“Stupid, I know,” Steve shuffles, put on edge by the soft click of the T.V. remote in Max’s hand. “I just. Billy said that you had blood in your hair, and I just wanted to--"

"--It was Billy's," Max tells him, eyes trained carefully on the flickering screen in front of her.

Steve knows Max well enough now to get that she needs to be comforted, probably. She's still a kid, she's sixteen, but he also knows that the truth needs to be coaxed out of her, dripping like saliva past her rows and rows of sharp, vicious teeth. Just like Bill--

"Stop fidgeting like that. You look fucking stupid," Max tells him.

Like Steve said. A piranha. A sixteen-year-old hammerhead shark. The shower's still going so Steve frowns, tucking his first aid kit onto the coffee table. "It’s not just the rain boots?”

“No,” Max says, “It’s the whole outfit. And your big, dumb, worried eyes.”

“I’m sorry. I give a shit about you, and he said you were running away because he hit--"

"Yeah, I know what he said, and he didn't hit him. Not hard enough to do anything," Max snorts, again, mean. "Jesus Christ, he's so dramatic."

Steve nods, and the movement pulls her in. Brings her claws out.

"You’re dramatic, too. You were made for each other.”

“Okay.”

“Dumb and soft and earnest,” Max shakes her head, disappointed in them both. “Billy isn't dad. He thinks it's his fault. It isn't."

She says, like. Steve's going to lose his fuckin' mind and argue. "I know."

"He always thinks everything's his fault, but it's not. That's the Drama Bitch in him. He's a prima donna grade-a loser asshole but he's a good guy and he's my brother--"

"--Max, maybe we should--"

"I'm not moving back to California without any money," Max tells him, eyes on fire. "I'm not. I have a life here, I won’t starve to death here, so you can run in there and tell your stupid boyfriend that I'm not going until–"

"Right. Yeah, I," Steve swallows against the lump in his throat, "Max, you've gotta know that I'm not trying to make you leave."

Max snorts.

"I'm serious," Steve tells her, shuffling forward, "Why the fuck would I want that?”

“Won’t have to pay for all your dates, anymore,” Max tells him, and. 

Steve. Didn’t know she knew about that. Didn’t know they were close enough to talk about boys, but he guesses. That’s probably a stupid thing to believe when Max ran away to be with her brother. 

She sneers at him, "You're such a loser,” She says, disgusted by his presence.

Lights Steve on fire. "Why?”

"Because,” Max takes a deep, steadying breath, her grip so vice-like on the remote that Steve worries it will shatter. “Because you’re gonna let us stay here.”

“I thought you weren’t on board for California,” Steve demands, embarrassed that he’s angry at a sixteen year old girl for running away from home. 

“God, you think you’re the only one who’s holding on to someone?” Max chuckles but it’s not a laugh. It’s mean and raw and bleeding.

Steve nods, reeling, drowning, sinking, flying, swimming, sailing--

"I'm hungry," Max says, and turns back to the T.V.

--

Steve loves Billy so he makes him something to eat, something heavy and full of starch to sop up all the bad shit inside of him. It works, for the time.

Max has three bowls, even though potatoes count as a vegetable.

They cram together afterward, three sardines on the couch clear of blood. Patched. They watch some stupid fucking cartoon thing until Max falls asleep and Billy can hardly keep his eyes open.

Steve tugs him close, says, "Let's go to bed, honey," And Billy comes, too tired to be irritating and awful. ‘S almost too bad.

When they fold onto the mattress Billy slots into all of Steve's empty spaces, a perfect fit of expanding ribs and tickling eyelashes. Steve pets over the knobs of Billy's spine. He focuses on the warm landing of Billy's forehead where it holds steady against his jaw, burning because of blood and split skin. 

Steve tacks lips to Billy’s shorn skull, his forehead, his left ear, and tries to imagine death dropping his scythe on Neil Hargrove's cranium somewhere across this sleepy town. Wonders when everything became an eye for an eye.

"We'll be out of your hair tomorrow," Billy's lashes flutter against Steve's pulse, body tense and coiled and waiting.

Steve pets over his ribcage, says, "Don't be stupid," because. Might as well call it what it is. Billy tries to pull back, to tuck away, but Steve holds on tighter. Stubborn. "Why do you want to run from me so bad?"

"Not you," Billy says. Cramped and muffled against Steve's collarbone, "Hawkins."

"It'll miss you. So will Max," Steve says, petting over Billy's thigh, now, relishing the rough drag of boxer briefs against his fingertips, "Said she's not leaving."

"When?"

"Told me while you were cleaning up."

"What a surprise," Billy reports flatly, "Who gives a shit. She doesn't have a choice."

"Tell her that.”

"She's going. No matter what I’ve gotta do.”

“What if she fights you on it?”

“Then one of us will have blood on our feet, again."

Steve hums, fiddling with the hem of Billy's boxer briefs. Slipping his fingers under the lip. "You try and put her in that car and it won’t even be a fight. You'll be dead before sunset."

Billy snorts, rocking both of them. “She’s scrappy but I’ve got fifty pounds on her.”

“Sure, just muscle and good intentions.” Steve’s fingers tangle in the thatch of hair at Billy’s pelvis. It’s soft and curly, little blonde ringlets that smell like rain water.

Billy sighs, tilting back when Steve inches upupup his shaft. "Stop trying to get in my pants, Harrington."

"You have something I want," Steve tells him. It's easy to find Billy's cockhead, blooming with springtime mist. Steve smooths it with his thumb. He grins at the noise Billy makes, ducks to nibble at that cut jawbone. “You won’t be able to sleep if you don’t relax.”

"Shit," Billy says intelligently.

"Want you inside me. Want your fingers."

"Fuck you, I'm grieving,” Billy grumbles, but he cranes his neck. Makes room between his legs.

"I could take your mind off it for a little while,” Steve says. He untangles himself, shucking the covers and laying on his stomach next to Billy’s thighs. He smells like the earth, fresh and moist. Steve tugs at his boxers, mouth-watering when Billy’s cock nods and the popcorn ceiling.

“Steve,” Billy protests, choking on a moan when Steve swallows him down, teeth knotted in the feather down at Billy’s pelvis. "Baby, Max is in the next room."

Steve comes up for air, kissing the freckle at Billy’s tip. "She's asleep."

"You're such a whore,” Billy glares sharply, “Is this how it's gonna be every goddamn night?"

And.

Suddenly Steve's heart swells, pushing against the cavern of his ribcage. He must smile, must press love and lightning into Billy's forehead when Steve clamors to his knees and pets over the bruise there, so happy the bed's about to blast out from under them.

"Stop making that stupid face," Billy snorts, dabbing the saliva on Steve’s chin, "Lookin' at me like I'm gonna--"

"I love you," Steve says. 

Billy shifts, his cheeks blooming pink, “Just sayin’ that because my cock is out.” 

“Maybe,” Steve teases. Can't help it; every goddamn thing about himself. He's stupid, and happy, and so, so heartbroken. He licks at Billy’s cockhead, heart thumping elation through his limbs. "You're really gonna stay with me?"

Billy shrugs, fiddling with the stretched-out neckline of Steve's t-shirt. "I don't know where else we could go."

"California."

"Max said she's not going, right?" Billy mumbles, "And. You've made it pretty clear that you wouldn't either."

“I never said that.”

“Don’t have to say it, it’s in your voice?”

Billy’s talking in circles, feeding his insecurities because that’s what he does when he’s on the verge of something else.

“Oh yeah? What’s in my actions?” Steve slips down the mattress again and sucks Billy to the root, bobbing his head and opening his throat in earnest, licking and swallowing until Billy soft little noises splat against the walls like wads of bubblegum. 

Billy groans, knotting his fingers in Steve’s hair.

His roots sing. “I’d go anywhere you asked me to,” Steve points out before Billy can speak. Sounds. Like swallowing rocks is his favorite thing. “The problem is you never ask me to.”

Billy shrugs.

“Ask me.”

“Steve–”

Steve pulls himself out of Billy’s hold and sucks him down again, swallowing. Only comes up for air when Billy starts writhing beneath him. “Say it.”

“I–” 

“Say, ‘Steve, come home with me to California, I’ll teach you how to surf, we can live on the ocean–’”

“Costs a fuckin’ fortune to live on the waterline,” Billy stutters, mouth falling open with a groan when Steve spits on his cock. Works up a rhythm with the palm of his hand just so he can watch the way Billy’s stomach tugs at the waistband of Steve’s lended boxers. 

He’s only a little worried that Max might hear them. 

Not enough to stop, not when Billy’s throat opens bit by bit, little wrecked noises barely reaching Steve across the valley of air between them. Through the shutter of the blinds, Billy’s skin glows. Stardust and bushels of flowering lilac in the shape of fingers and fists, sprouting and withering along his neck and cheek and jawline, breathing and dying over and over and over again.

Billy cranes to watch him, lips raw and red and open, tongue lulling. 

Steve cracks and splinters at the sight, at his wits end, at the height of all he’s ever felt–

“What?” Billy asks, chest heaving. 

Steve climbs on top of him, swallowing the shock that flutters from between Billy’s lips. His cock presses into Steve’s ass, slick head trapped by Steve’s layer of encasing, rough cotton. It fits perfectly, just like the rest of him, like they were made for this. Each other. Finding solace and rhythm in the tattered edges of the night. 

Steve sucks on Billy’s tongue, deepening the kiss. His thighs shake, his hips roll down, startling the air from Steve’s lungs. Or Billy’s. Both. 

“Baby,” He says. Or Billy does, “Baby, I–”

Steve pulls back enough to see the tears clinging stubbornly to Billy’s lashes, drops of stardust stranded in bright blue skies. He wipes them away with his thumb, pressing their lips together in a chaste, sweet kiss. 

Chokes on a thousand things. What he could’ve said, on all those other nights. What he isn’t saying now. What he’ll have to stumble over tomorrow so that things can get started on a solid foundation–

It all, just. Dies. 

Steve rolls his hips, “I love you,” He says, breaking like waves where Billy’s skin is the shore. “Let me make love to you.”

Because it’s all that matters.

Uncertainty flashes, bright as lightning, across Billy’s face, and then it’s gone. “Okay,” He says, “Alright.”

–

“I lied,” Steve tells him, to distract from the places they’re stuck together, the swatches where they’re bruised and cut and bleeding, “I tried to run away, once. When I was seven.”

Billy hums, his cheek warm and sticky over Steve’s rib cage. “Did you hear what I said?” Steve asks, chuckling, “Not gonna fall asleep, are you?”

“Thought you wanted me to relax.”

“I do.”

“Well, I am,” Billy tells him, “Your pussy’s magic–”

“Don’t say pussy when I’m talking about running away from home, that’s gross.” Steve yelps, wiggling when Billy’s teeth close around his nipple and tug. “Ow, shithead, this is important–”

“What, mommy and daddy didn’t get you the yacht you asked for for christmas so you ran away from home for twenty minutes?” Billy snaps, but there’s no heat. No fire. 

“Not exactly,” Steve shrugs, rustling Billy’s head back onto his chest. “My grandma had come to stay with us for a while. She was sick. Dying, actually, but I was too young to notice. She never looked sick, she was constant. Still cooked dinner for us. Still holy-rolled until I cleaned my room. She took care of me.”

Billy’s arm tightens around Steve’s waist. Subtle and constant, too.

“When she finally passed on, I just. Didn’t want to be with my parents anymore,” Steve swallows, nearly strangling himself on the lump in his throat, “Look. They never hurt me, Billy, not like–”

“--We don’t have to talk about this–”

“--I know I could never understand, but. When my grandma stayed with us I felt love. I wasn’t alone, anymore, she was my family. And after she was gone I couldn’t go back to the way shit had been before she came to us, you know? I couldn’t be alone in that empty fucking house anymore, I had to leave.”

“But you didn’t?” Bill asks.

Steve holds him tighter. “I didn’t.”

Billy twists, chin poking Steve in the ribs but it doesn’t matter, when their eyes meet. Steve pets over his forehead, his eyelashes, savoring the plush of his cupid's bow. Vibrant and alive. Free.

“Beautiful,” Steve says. A fact. A name, “I understand why you have to go.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy leans into Steve’s touch, seeking his warmth. “We all need to run away, sometimes.”

“I could come with you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Billy says. He starts crying, soft as summer rain. Maybe he already was. Steve rubs at his cheeks, trying to catch them before they fall. “You’ve become the thing I run to, but–”

“--You don’t have to ask. It’s not some fuckin’ sacrifice, if you leave there’s nothing left. I don’t want to go home if you’re not there.” Steve says, and then waits, patiently re-counting the 297 freckles he knows form a village on Billy’s nose. 

Billy thinks it over. Finally, he frowns. “So in this situation I’m like your grandma?”

Steve blinks, a laugh startled out of him, “What?”

“You said,” BIlly grumbles, brow furrowing, “You said that when she–”

“--I don’t want to fuck my grandma, that’s–”

“--God, you’re so annoying,” Billy rolls onto his back, jostling the mattress until all their blankets slither, ending tucked around him so Steve will freeze to death.

It’s so achingly usual. So soft. 

“Baby,” Steve props himself on one below, chuckling when Billy rolls onto his side. Away. Steve pokes Billy’s shoulder, rocking him, “Hey, you goddamn brat, I was just—”

“--I didn’t mean that you want to fuck your grandma, you psycho, I meant. Like. You said that when she wasn’t home you couldn’t go back.”

Steve’s hand rests on the blanket between them. He feels like a naked, sparking bunch of wire. Thinks maybe he said too much, or didn’t say enough, and now Billy’s imagining himself as a stout Italian woman in a clementine shrug. 

“She would’ve liked you,” Steve says finally. Billy peeks over his shoulder, scowling. Steve giggles at him, “It’s true!”

“She wouldn’t be disgusted that I’m a cocksucker?”

“No. She was a muff eater, when she was in her twenties,” Steve says casually, laughing when Billy spins and sits bolt upright next to him. 

“Are you serious?”

“As the heart attack that killed my papa, who she never really loved,” Steve rights himself, shuffling until their legs are nestled together, until he can kiss and suck on Billy’s pulse.

“Stop that,” Billy says thinly.

“No.”

“You can’t just say that your dead lesbian grandma would like me.”

Steve licks at Billy’s earlobe, tasting blood and isopropyl, and the hiss of metal shears. “Why not?”

“Because,” Billy sighs, fingernails digging into Steve’s right and left kneecaps, “Because then I’ll want to stay with you forever.”

Steve pulls back, confused, “You don’t want to stay with me forever now?”

“You’re an idiot–”

“--Who loves you.”

“Such a dumbass–”

“--Who’s gonna work two extra jobs to get you and your sister to California,” Steve says. Hands topping Billy’s like stubborn barley thistle. Rooting him in place. “I’m gonna do it and you don’t even have to ask.”

Billy shakes his head. 

Steve holds on tighter. “I’m serious. I’m gonna give you the world, even if it means we stay here for a while, until we can save up the money. Until it’s not dark out anymore, right?”

A hundred emotions struggle on Billy’s face, each one fighting for dominance. Finally, “Until daybreak?”

Steve nods. “Daylight.”

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Something rubbed against his leg beneath the table. Jon saw red eyes staring up at him. “Hungry again?” he asked. There was still half a honeyed chicken in the center of the table. Jon reached out to tear off a leg, then had a better idea. He knifed the bird whole and let the carcass slide to the floor between his legs. Ghost ripped into it in savage silence. His brothers and sisters had not been permitted to bring their wolves to the banquet, but there were more curs than Jon could count at this end of the hall, and no one had said a word about his pup. He told himself he was fortunate in that too. His eyes stung. Jon rubbed at them savagely, cursing the smoke. He swallowed another gulp of wine and watched his direwolf devour the chicken. Dogs moved between the tables, trailing after the serving girls. One of them, a black mongrel bitch with long yellow eyes, caught a scent of the chicken. She stopped and edged under the bench to get a share. Jon watched the confrontation. The bitch growled low in her throat and moved closer. Ghost looked up, silent, and fixed the dog with those hot red eyes. The bitch snapped an angry challenge. She was three times the size of the direwolf pup. Ghost did not move. He stood over his prize and opened his mouth, baring his fangs. The bitch tensed, barked again, then thought better of this fight. She turned and slunk away, with one last defiant snap to save her pride. Ghost went back to his meal. Jon grinned and reached under the table to ruffle the shaggy white fur. The direwolf looked up at him, nipped gently at his hand, then went back to eating.

Jon I, AGOT

It's interesting that GRRM would dedicate several paragraphs to a seemingly unimportant exchange between a boy, his wolf, and an unfriendly third party. But there's just something about this passage that has continued to nag at me for years since I first read it because, considering how heavy handed GRRM was with the foreshadowing in AGOT, this feels important.

Jon is sitting at table full of squires - aka would be knights. We don't really know who they are or what families they belong to, but it's safe to assume that they come from a certain level of privilege; this is considering the fact that it cannot be financially easy to be a squire. And these boys already have a slew of tales detailing all their previous knightly exploits regarding "battle and bedding and the hunt" which suggests that they have some capital. So you have boys who will soon be men. And they will, presumably, become men of some power.

These lads eat their fill of the chicken until only half remains, which Jon then gives to Ghost. The direwolf's name is not so important here but what he represents is. Throughout the series, we're told that Ghost is reminiscent of the weirwood trees (because of his red eyes and white fur). He's stated to be of and from the Old Gods and since he's a personification of the weirwoods, he might as well be one of them. It's almost as if Jon is presenting whatever is left on the table to the Old Gods (Ghost). He lets them devour his offerings while he silently watches. And the motif of watching is so interesting here because it's kind of like Jon takes on a stewardship role - to watch over land/people/etc. He oversees Ghost eating the chicken, so he's overseeing whatever has been given to the Old Gods. This is not new imagery to his arc. As a brother of the Night's Watch and eventually its leader, we have several instances where he leads people to adopting the Old Gods in some fashion. In ADWD, several recruits swear their vows to the Old Gods while he watches on as their Lord Commander. The Old Gods are also primarily of the North and we're told that Jon has more of the north in him than his brothers; interesting that this also includes Bran. So perhaps whatever is being offered to the Old Gods relates to the North.

We must also note that Jon initially thinks to give only a small portion, a leg, before pivoting and providing the entire thing. It feels to me a bit like the process of carving up a kingdom or something similar. The lords (represented by the squires) take what they want and leave aside what they don't; or perhaps they have eaten to their fill and can take no more. Then when his time comes, Jon first considers a small piece of land/group of people before eventually absorbing all of whatever is left behind. The concept of carving up a kingdom rings harder considering that we have several callbacks to the ideals of kingship in this chapter. Robert, Jaime, Tyrion, and even Mance though we don't know it yet, all play into this. And then there's the aspect of Jon letting the chicken slip between his legs which evokes birth/fatherhood, a very curious choice when GRRM could've just had Jon place the chicken on the floor. So land/people are carved up and Jon then uses whatever is left to birth his own type of kingdom. And this kingdom is one for the Old Gods.

This also touches on something that has been quite prevalent throughout Jon's arc. It's the concept of accepting the "others" or "those left over" who live apart from the accepted social norms. Arya (a tomboy), Sam (a gender non-confirming boy), the Night's Watch (criminals, extra sons, and men who have no future left or place to go), and even the wildlings are all examples of this. And Jon takes on a leadership/paternal role to every single one of them. He looks after them as a leader would/should. Sometimes, in the case of Arya and the wildlings, he's equated to a king. He's a steward/shepherd/king. There's messianic undertones to this:

Come unto me, all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." (Matthew 11:28-30).

If you're familiar with Judeo-Christian tradition, you'll know that Jesus is often personified as one who spent the majority his time among the outcasts. The idea is that he came to save them too and that anew kingdom (or new earth depending on your translation) would spring up after the end of the world where he would forever rule as king; which presents the idea of a final king after the earthly ones are done away with. Now GRRM isn't so heavy handed with Christian allusions as other authors out there, but he does have a Catholic background and Jon is so overtly a Jesus figure. And in Revelation, Jesus is king and god at the very end....

One last thing: the mention of the mongrel who challenges Jon has always been rather interesting but confusing to me. A mongrel doesn't really relate to one specific type of dog. But it's interesting that Jon notes several roaming about where he is. They follow the serving girls who carry the food to be offered. Mongrels are used to describe antagonist/villainous groups in ASOIAF. Sometimes, they're used to describe slavers in Essos. But what's interesting is that most of the time, they're used to describe Euron's Ironborn especially in Victorian's POV. So I don't think the mongrel who challenges Ghost is a supernatural threat of death (i.e., the Others) but rather a human one. They represent those who are called to the scene once the lords have finished playing their games. It almost feels like a feast for (carrion) crows....

But it doesn't really matter because this mongrel isn't much of a challenge for Ghost. Though the mongrel is much larger, the direwolf is able to fend her off very effortlessly. Given that "mongrel" is used to describe Ironborn raiders, could this exchange between Ghost and the mongrel point to reavers or sea raiders who rise and fail challenge Jon kingdom? There is a historical King Jon Stark who did this....

When sea raiders landed in the east, Jon drove them out and built a castle, the Wolf's Den, at the mouth of the White Knife, so as to be able to defend the mouth of the river.[1][2] His son, Rickard, followed him on the throne and annexed the Neck to the north.

ref.

So this might shed some light not only on Jon's already published arc, but also on what we can expect in the future. We have some foreshadowing through Jon's ADWD dream that he will not only rise with the dawn (thereby live through the Long Night), but will be in a position to lead people (wildings in that chapter) to a new peace after a hard fought war. Also remember that the wildlings, rather enthusiastically, swear oaths to him as if swearing oaths to their king. In this instance, the supernatural (a dream of the war for the dawn) is followed by the natural/human. So perhaps this particular passage (and Jon's dream) can be used to predict that Jon comes out on top, and quite effortlessly too, as a leader. And he becomes a leader who rules by association with the Old Gods; or rules a kingdom for them.

To end, I think it's of note that this passage immediately precedes Jon's conversation with Benjen where he voices his desire to go out on his own - the hero's call to action. This is the adventure that's going to kickstart his growth as a man, warrior and most importantly, a leader. So it looks like before we even began, GRRM telegraphed how it would all end in just three short paragraphs.

[paris-geller-was-straightwashed]

okay so, having now seen furiosa: a mad max saga opening night and having Ruminated on my thoughts, I am going to give my two-pence on the movie even though nobody asked or wanted it - you're getting it anyway!

but before going into the full thing, I actually re-watched fury road today, bc I just wanted to contrast it now that we know furiosa's full story that lead her to her trek in fury road, and I just had mad max on the brain (and also I love that movie).

spoilers under the cut below!!

first, I already knew before seeing the prequel, that that scene in fury road where furiosa breaks down after learning about what happened to 'the green place,' was going to now hit 2x as hard once we learn what really happened the moment she was ripped away, and...yeah, it's super painful to watch. it was already a very emotional scene, but now having known how much pain and struggle it costed her, how many times furiosa desperately made her bet to get back home and fell short - you can really feel her grief

funnily enough though, I was shocked to find myself tearing up not during that scene, but when furiosa was reunited with the last of the many mothers. having just watched her ripped away so unfairly as a defenseless child, her whole world destroyed and clinging onto this dream of one day, getting to embrace her family - you can't help it!! I started tearing up when the other woman rushed to furiosa, embracing her with the gentle touch of their foreheads, 'this is our furiosa' 😭 like..she did it!! she made it home!!! - also, I learned in the credits - that woman was actually the same little girl, valkyrie, in furiosa who was her friend!!! that girl saw her friend get snatched and pulled away from their home, and then finally, both grown, they reuinite! I just thought that was sweet

what max says to her about hope in the scene after they find the mothers, 'if you can't fix what's broken..you'll go insane.' - my mind immediately jumped to dementus. we get this glimpse that he once had a wife and child(ren) he loved, that were either taken from him or killed, and he tells furiosa in their stand-off more or less how that destroyed him mentally, further plunging him into this hateful madman who acts so cruelly to others. he couldn't 'fix' it by getting them back ('I want them back!!' 'I can't!!'), the one thing he loved that kept him sane, and so he lost his humanity.

I saw a post of someone saying how ricktus's death (immortan joe's son) is 10x more satisfying after having seen what he (nearly) did to child furiosa...abso-fucking-lutely (though, I think with that in mind, furiosa should've gotten a part in it..)

also, max & and furiosa's dynamic after knowing about her & jack...the parallels! the parallels!! their gradual bond of trust, how fluidly they work together to kill/fight the enemies of the citadel akin to her and jack vs. dementus and gang, etc.

this saga, of course, is about hope and redemption, alluded to in both fury road and the prequel. in fury road, max says (I think in his opening monologue) how he was once strived to be a 'righteous warrior', who could do good and help others. later, when one of the wives finds the warboy nux, he's distraught bc he thinks his chances for greatness are gone, but then she tells him that maybe, he's destined for something greater - and that would be, of course, later sacrificing himself to save her and the rest by crashing the rig into the war party. in furiosa, jack says how his parents were valiant warriors, and how he hopes one day, he could be the same - also, later, fulfilling that by sacrificing himself so that furiosa might escape dementus and the destroyed gastown. it's just such an amazing string of parallels - all three men, looking to do something great, and then, through furiosa, they're given that chance and achieve something good even amongst the destruction!! but it's only bc of furiosa, this harbinger of hope, that they do so - she's the tie between them all, the embodiment of that goodness!!! it's! just! so! good!!!

honestly there's probably way more parallels out there I'm sure ppl will bring up, but those were the things that struck me. now, onto my actual thoughts on the prequel.

--I'll start by saying I was unbelievably excited to see this movie. I'm annoyed though, bc despite knowing about it and wanting to see it once it was released, I literally only learned it was coming out a week before the release date. straight up, the press for it was so poor, not once did I hear about it before the trailer randomly crossed my feed one day - and considering how popular fury road is, I find that bizarre (but, I'll bet you a good couple bucks, that the press/hype was deliberately poor bc of the movie company execs, due to this being a female lead film 😠) - but it did mean I didn't have to wait too long, and that I did watch the trailer about 13 times on my own accord until then..

--having read the reviews, I do agree, it is a bit slower then fury road - but, that's really only bc it's a character story instead. fury road takes places in the current time of the film and the actions that follow, whereas the prequel is specifically about furiosa, so it's honed less to the action and more about a certain character, in my opinion. but it's just as good for a character story! it does an excellent job of unfolding furiosa's journey, and really, if you're gunna compare everything in the franchise to fury road, it's never gunna live up. that said, there's still excellent action and real nail-biting moments.

--I will say though, that I found it almost...darker, then fury road? fury road is definitely intense and there's of course violence, but it never openly tips into anything past pg-13; the darkness that is there, is more or less touched upon by the narrative (like, we can get a sense of what must've happened to the wives (ie assault) and why they escaped once we see how immortan joe regards them as property, the suffering furiosa must've went through by the pure vitriol look she gives him when their cars are side-by-side and later, 'remember me?' before killing him (my favourite scene)). but it's never explicit - furiosa is. from the torture of her mother, to that scene right after the max cameo when he drops furiosa off at the citedel's underground where I literally had to cover my eyes and ask my friend to say when it was done..there's an overtone of darkness that gives to the tragedy of furiosa, this child molded from pain (not to mention, again, that scene of ricktus and her as a child which to me, was the most nerve-wracking moment). fury road gives you a glimpse, but furiosa doesn't hold back.

--chris hemsworth, meanwhile, made an excellent villain. not just as an actor, but dementus as a character was fantastic. he's got lots of great lines and brings in a lot of humor - he's both deranged and erratic, while also clever and simultaneously childish, and mostly, cruel. he's wonderfully dynamic. bringing in a backstory of losing his wife/child was a great added piece to his story (I love a good backstory), and the way he takes the loss of his kid and tried to mold it around furiosa, tries to fill that empty piece inside, was a great choice in terms of their dynamic. it made him more then just a mad-man who stole a child for yuks - he had a deeper desire to tote furiosa around, almost as a security blanket in the same way the teddy bear also acts as one. his final monologue was great - the ramblings of a hateful man, but it was, in the end, what got furiosa to see past vengeance, and become better - to choose hope, and not destruction.

--anya taylor-joy did a great job I thought - while I wish furiosa had more lines, she made up for it in just the facial expressions and how full they were, really giving us a glimpse of what furiosa was feeling. even still, it would've been nice to have known what was going on in her head, or even hear her talk about her past - the green place, and then dementus, are the pure driving force of her character, yet she doesn't ever mention or grapple with her grief around these things, simply stays silent (except for the final confrontation with dementus). I would've loved maybe, if she had confided in jack, or maybe even one of the wives, to give more depth to her feelings.

--I also wish furiosa could've bonded with someone else besides jack, or at least before him. it would've been nice for to have had at least one ally, or, I dunno, a friend? like that war boy who had dwarfism - she seemed almost sad, when realizing after the battle that he was dead. instead, she's alone, but a fellow misfit friend could've been nice.

--speaking of jack, loved him! thought he was great! it's unfortunate his part was so short, would've loved delve into his background (also, I'm as gay as they come, but he's like..an objectively Good Looking Man, so well done all around).

--I was really nervous, for how they were gunna do the romance. I was against it initially, bc the great thing about fury road, was that romance was not at all forced into the narrative - you can read that between max & furiosa if you want, but for one of the very, very few times when a woman and man team up, romance wasn't forcefully wedged in, and instead they could be respected allies. so I was skeptical - and then I totally fell for them. they were so sweet! the two actors had great chemistry - their bond was just so soft. the way, after they crash and are caught by dementus, furiosa, who can barely stand, gently leans herself into jack's shoulder, sweetly muttering to each other as he leans his forehead back against hers, like 😩😩 it was so lovely, and so tragic. you could really feel the respect and care they had for each other; it was so organic, bc jack genuinely wanted to help furiosa. he respected her and asked nothing of her - he was a purely good man, and through that, furiosa was able to open up to him and trust him. it's the great curse of the mad max universe though - no romance can escape it's claws, same with how nux and one of the wives were torn apart. in my heart of hearts though, there lives a little AU fic where dementus doesn't catch them, and they make their way back to the green place and live happily ever after with a kid perhaps, and maybe, furiosa and him go back to later rescue the wives (they say, like they're not thinking of already writing that very fic...).

--one more thing about furiosa I wanted to mention, if I can call back to earlier saying how she becomes a beacon of hope for the various men that enter her life (and the women too, when you think of the wives..) - that, despite all this horror handed to her, at the very end of the rope, she gives into her hero's heart. time over, we see, even as the destruction of the wasteland chips away at her, furiosa can never quite betray her heart. she runs back to her mother even after being pushed to leave, she goes back for jack despite having the perfect escape to finally make it back home, and in the end, takes all her hurt and anger wrapped up in dementus, and turns it and him into something that can bring good into the world. it's about choosing good, above all!! a hero's heart, even in the darkest of worlds!!!

--the trailer really emphases the green place, but we only see it for like...a couple minutes? I was looking forward to more lore about it, maybe seeing some of it's inhabitants like the mothers. but furiosa is taken immediately and then her mother starts her hunt after her, and that's it. kinda a bummer.

--there's a couple inconsistencies here and there - like, when furiosa is first brought to where the wives are kept, there's gotta be about 20 women in there, roughly. but then, as she becomes a young adult, we see at the very end her approach the 5 wives from fury road (I was expecting a call-back, so loved that) and it looks like there's only them there - what happened to the rest of the women??? did they all die in childbirth?? also, when furiosa runs away and hides herself as a warboy/mechanic, how did no one know she was gone?? it seems odd, since immortan joe specifically picked her out and probably has a mental line-up of all his 'treasures', you'd think he'd notice. or how, later on, the new 'imperior' with jack looks oddly similar to that young girl ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

--also, I wanna know how furiosa got away with being the only female imperior - you'd think immortan joe might snag her away instead to be a wife bc she's young and viable, or that she'd be either dismissed or preyed upon by his sons/the other men. maybe because she was partnered with jack it was easier, but that was kinda confusing.

--final thing, bc this post is already too long - my last gripe is mainly about furiosa's dynamic with immortan joe. in furiosa, her revenge is purely motivated towards dementus, but then, switching to fury road, she now holds contempt and anger towards the warlord. part of what I wanted to see in the film, was her past with immortan joe; we didn't know initially how furiosa got to the citadel, but my interpretation, was always that possibly (because she was branded with the logo on her neck) she was brought on as a wife, inevitably abused by him, and then something happened where she was no longer useful as a wife (maybe an accident that cost her her arm) but was still useful as a tool. but, immortan joe isn't really looked at in the prequel; he's here and there, but doesn't show any particular cruelty or act towards furiosa that I was expecting. that vitriol she shows in fury road, and of course, 'remember me?', makes you think there was something there to fuel furiosa's revenge. instead, nothing really occurs between them - of course, furiosa is brought on to breed him children and then is expected to do his every bidding in getting supplies, so, I think we're supposte to assume that she has seen how cruel he is up close, and so acts against him. still, I was expecting something deeper there.

all in all, I loved it and had a great time. fury road will always be one of my favourites, but this is a great addition. fury road is great on all fronts; a fascinating world, great characters, amazing action, a well-made and clearly cared for story, but the thing I love most - is that it's about hope. it's about choosing, every day, despite the horrors around you, to get up and hope for something better. to do something better, even at your own cost. it's about hope and what we mean to each other when we extend it. and I just love that so much

go see furiosa! support it! it's a great time!