#I have so many thoughts but write so little about it. such a tragedy

[tev-the-random]

Ok Tumblr just REFUSES to let me answer this one, for some godforsaken reason. We'll have to make do with a screenshot, it seems.

And oh

OH, MY FRIEND

He does. He very much does.

In what I consider one of my personal favourite moments in this AU, Jimmy, at first, reveals himself to Fwhip and Fwhip alone.

Upon integrating himself into the empires as "Terrence", Jimmy starts getting closer to those he seeks to harm the most. And while Joel is arguably the one who started his whole predicament, Fwhip was a constant figure in Jimmy's mind during his years of travel. It is something to be hurt by someone you never really got along with, but to be hurt by the one person you used to trust the most is something else entirely.

So yeah. He approaches Fwhip with fake friendliness and a supposed interest for all the right things a goblin ought to like, and Fwhip is very glad to have him visit Gobland for the day. That is, until Jimmy spots the sheriff's home away from home, his old house in Gobland. He'd forgotten it existed, and to be honest, he thought it would have been destroyed or repurposed by now.

He can't help it.

Jimmy goes inside to find that, apart from being very dusty, nothing has changed about the house. His bed is still there, the carpet, Norman's bed, even the chest half-filled with stuff he hardly remembers leaving here. There's a very old picture still hanging on the wall — him and Fwhip in the early days of Tumble Town, before any of the pranks disturbed its view.

Let's just say Jimmy is glad he left his lantern back at its hideout. Otherwise, his heart probably wouldn't be able to take this.

Fwhip says this is just an old abandoned house that belonged to no one in particular, it has probably been standing there since before his time, really. Terrence points out the picture, and after a long moment of silence, Fwhip admits that he built the place for "an old friend." But it doesn't matter anymore. That friend is long gone.

When it's time to leave, Terrence makes a peculiar comment.

He tells Fwhip how much he appreciated the attention the Goblin King gave him during this visit, despite how busy he probably is. He was always good at first impressions, wasn't he? He only loses points for that old house; not because it was dirty, no, but because he had the gal to pretend he mourned Jimmy at all.

"Don't worry, you're still my second favourite deputy. For now."

He hands Fwhip an old book he took from the house. The Law.

Whatever spell made Terrence so unrecognisable breaks, and all the pieces click into place at once. Fwhip can't unsee it now. Jimmy, older and scarred and human, but so undoubtedly Jimmy.

Now that's... a lot. However long Fwhip spends processing what is both a horrifying and wonderful discovery, it's enough for "Terrence" to go back to Tumble Town, where he feigns utter ignorance. Nobody knows any better, and nobody believes Fwhip when he tells them. Jimmy finds it extremely funny.

As for the Red Light Bandit... well, he makes sure that anyone who learns of his identity is dealt with accordingly. It only makes sense that his light is the last one they see.

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[thatswhatsushesaid]

shitpost dispatches from guanyin temple & the sangyao dungeons - [10/?]

with the important caveat that no, jgy was absolutely not attempting to kill or harm nhs prior to this moment, but I would bet cash money on him exacting some pretty bloody retribution upon his beloved a-sang if he'd survived the events of guanyin temple (and also I think he would win)

[emmcfrxst]

i am so normal about this i swear

Jason Todd is used to violence. He’s a little less used to love.

The first time you give Jason a hickey, it’s bittersweet. For a man so used to violence and all its aftermaths, that small mark on the vulnerable reach of his throat leaves him shell shocked. He presses down at that fresh bruise and is astounded at the lack of violence. That the violently marred planes of his body can bear the evidence of affection just as well. It surprises him a little, how two such opposed things can end up looking so similar. He’ll take a thousand little bruises from you if they’re made of love.

Every morning after you, he stands in front of his bathroom mirror and catalogues the damages. Symmetrical purple blooms on each collarbone, a fading one overlapping an old bullet wound on his chest, more scattered along his pulse points. He presses careful fingers down on each one and wonders at how close your sharp teeth came to the fragile parts of him. Decides how he wouldn’t mind an imprint of your jaws if you chose to give it to him. Thinks abstractly about how he’d look decorated in ruby droplets and your grin.

Jason Todd is used to violence. He’s a little less used to love. Sometimes for him, the boundaries get a little blurry.

[inkskinned]

even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.

they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!

when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.

if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.

at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.

it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or are there demons affecting my behavior.

but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.

and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."

it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.

someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.

more often for me, life was a drowning.

[cherrybomb107]

I literally wouldn’t have cared if they decided to pull a Cyberpunk Edgerunners and kill off our entire main cast save for one or two characters and let the bad guys(the establishment) win. Tragedy isn’t the problem. The problem is the way they went about it. The show had so many plot threads to tie up, there was never any time to truly reckon with all the tragedies that were occurring.

Ekko losing his tree because of Arcane poisoning would be tragic. Notice I said “would be” because that plot line is literally never addressed again. It gets brought up, and then forgotten about. Vi being hit by her girlfriend after she makes the decision to put on the uniform of her oppressors and contribute to oppressing her own people in pursuit of a little sister who she can’t accept has changed is tragic on multiple levels! That’s some compelling shit! But the show never meaningfully addresses these issues or lets Vi react to them without throwing her into a new situation where she has to fight and lose something again. All Vi has ever done her entire life is try and fail to protect her loved ones. She gets punished for trying. It’s almost like the universe itself is out to get her! But we never see Vi break down and pick herself back up. We never see her make any choices to do what’s best for her. The plot decided for her and that’s the problem!

Vi and Jinx deciding to go their separate ways after all that they’ve been through would’ve been tragic. These two sister who love each other more than anything having to break apart for who knows how long and holding onto the hope that maybe they can reunite and be sisters again is gut wrenching…or at least it WOULD be if they actually decided to separate! Vi didn’t decide to leave her sister, Jinx didn’t decide to leave Vi, the narrative forced them apart! The narrative keeps ripping them away from each other and it’s starting to feel intentional. Trying to tell the audience that the only way Vi can truly be happy and choose herself is by having her baby sister die and being forced to live with her girlfriend in a city that will be extremely discriminatory towards her is not it. I’m not saying that Vi and Jinx have to ride off into the sunset together. But I am saying that if going their separate ways really was for the best, the show wouldn’t spend so much time trying to convince us of that. It would just happen organically. Which, to me, it didn’t

Jinx losing Isha was yet another tragedy! But the show doesn’t really show Jinx grieving and then deciding to fight for what she believes in after Ekko convinces her to try. She tried to kill herself five times. FIVE TIMES!!! How on Earth did she go from that to a badass piloting an airship, dripped out with her new outfit and steeled sense of resolve? We don’t know because it happened offscreen! I understand the show had time constraints, but come on. This plot line deserved more time to shine. Sevika being on the Council is a tragedy. It’s an empty gesture for one, and majority rules for two. That means Sevika will be forced to try to barter for Zaun’s freedom while being surrounded by a bunch of classist Piltie pricks who despise her and everything she stands for. She will be talked over and talked down to. That’s not a happy ending! But the show frames it like it is! And I’m sorry but if you can’t watch interviews of the writers saying their thoughts on the show and you genuinely believe that they have the range to write Sevika being on the Council as thoughtful commentary? No comment😭😭😭

Caitlyn’s corruption arc is yet another tragedy! Both because of what happened to her AND the fact that the arc wasn’t done! Caitlyn’s arc was supposed to show how no matter how “good” and “kind” a privileged person believes them self to be, their unconscious bias and prejudice against the out group will rear its ugly head the second they experience a fraction of what the marginalized group has been experiencing for centuries. It was so easy for Caitlyn to say “I understand now. How easy it is to hate them.” “Those animals!” “I thought you were different, but you’re not. It’s her blood in your veins!” How easy it was for her to weaponize The Gray. How easy it was for her to work with Ambessa and co sign martial law despite knowing better. How easy it was for her to risk killing a child just to get to Jinx. That’s super compelling! But the problem is we never see Caitlyn wrestle with her decisions. Guilt should be eating her ALIVE and all we get is a complete 180 from her after a time skip! Then she does nothing to redeem herself! And once again, no the writers absolutely did not intend that to be commentary on how the privileged are able to get away with things the lower class would be imprisoned/killed for. If they did then Caitlyn could’ve had a confrontation with someone from Zaun, whether that be Sevika, Ekko, Jinx, Vi or someone else, where they call her out on her hypocrisy. Then we would see her wrestle with that and realize the monster that she’s become.

Unfortunately, all these tragedies are not given the proper narrative weight they deserve. Or they’re not treated as tragedies when they so clearly are! THAT’S the problem! It’s not tragedy, it’s the framing! And it’s the way y’all are so condescending whenever someone criticizes the show. Why is every single critique met with “You didn’t watch/understand the show”? Why is it always “What were you expecting?” “You’re just mad it didn’t go your way.” “You’re just a hater.” “You have no idea how hard writing a script is.” “They planned the story from the beginning, this is how it was supposed to be.” And on and on and on. It’s exhausting! Why is it so hard for y’all to understand that it is possible to understand and have love for something but still have gripes with it? It doesn’t mean I love the show any less! It just means I’d love it even more if not for these certain aspects of it. That’s it, that’s all🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

[needfantasticstories]

“Many places I have been

Many sorrows I have seen

But I don't regret

Nor will I forget

All who took that road with me”

-The Last Goodbye by Billy Boyd

This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja, after 86 chapters, 300k words, and 10 months of joy, laughter, tears, heartbreak and love, has finally reached its end. 

Adjuration is a tragedy that is nothing short of an act of love. That much is clear in the passion and dedication put towards the story, the characters, and the message Freyja is trying to convey. This fic will teach you about love. About death. About the inevitability of existence and why despite knowing it will all come to an end, there is still meaning in trying and hoping and loving each other. In loving yourself. You will laugh, you will cry, you will hope and you will despair as you read this story, but you will not be able to put it down.

It’s hard to say goodbye to something that has been so important to and loved by so many people. So we won’t. Instead, we will say thank you for this incredible journey and the community this fic has built. For the friendships that have been made and the endless inspiration you have given us. Thank you for wanting to tell a story, and for letting us join you around the campfire to listen.

Thank you.

(If you like Linked Universe and haven’t yet read Adjuration, see below for spoiler free reviews of this fic and artist credits.)

This is an Adjuration is the kind of story you fall in love with, the kind of story you think keep thinking about long after you put it down. The kind you keep finding hidden details in after you think you’ve got it figured out. 

The characters are distinct and people with their own voices, motivations, relationships and histories. You’ll have your favourites but love them all. They influence how you’ll see the characters in everything else. 

It’s full of moments where everything clicks and everything before is recontextualised in a way that’s so satisfying and make the whole story very re-readable. A time travel story where all loops are already closed, where you can know but not yet understand what will happen. It’s long, complex, and beautifully, meticulously planned and detailed. It’s clever and considered, funny and heartbreaking. 

A story that whispers ‘it matters’ over and over. It is worth it to love, it is worth it if it doesn’t last forever, it is worth it to give someone a little more time, it is worth it to fight. It’s about loving others and your world and finding grace for yourself. 

It’s loss and tragedy and the cruelness of fate. It is the sacrifice and the breaking. 

Full of heart to both fill yours and break it in the best possible way. 

It’s about love. Always.

By @toyouhellohowareyou

Sometimes, it’s hard to explain to others why art moves us.

I could tell you This is an Adjuration will make you cry, laugh, and sit at the edge of your seat in anticipation. And it’s probably true - I did all of that as I read, often with a coffee in one hand, early in the morning as I got ready for the day. 

But that’s not the reason why I’m writing this.

The real reason is how it followed me during the rest of the day.

You see, at a certain point I realized this isn’t a story about Links going on adventures. Well, it does feature Links, and they do go on adventures, so let’s talk about that for a minute.

The first thing that caught my attention about this book was the characters. Each individual is unique, interesting, and exciting to follow. Not only are the Links individually compelling, but one thing that stands out in Adjuration is how the relationship between each Hero and their own worlds matter, and these connections shift, evolve, break and grow as the plot progresses.

Freyja does an incredible job of bringing together impactful storytelling with humor and heart. This is an Adjuration starts with an interesting premise, and then twists and turns in directions you wouldn’t expect. It’s rich in thought-provoking moments, soft joy and intense action, blended in with carefully crafted time travel and magic.

Adjuration sucked me into the world it builds, combining believable characters with fascinating stories, an unnervingly devious antagonist, plot twists, and lovingly crafted details that slip unnoticed until you’re surrounded on all sides. It made me cheer for characters I feel as if I’ve known intimately for years, made me worry for their safety as I would for that of a loved one, kept me hunting for hints and hidden references, pulling on a thread to try to find the end only for it to twist and loop into itself and show me a completely new side to the story.

Yes, This is an Adjuration is a fanfiction piece that explores the winding river flow of the Legend of Zelda timeline and how the stories of each Hero merge into each other. It also stands out for its heavy emotional content, and it doesn’t shy away from angst and hurt.

But to me, Adjuration is an epic journey that taught me how the choices we make, make us in turn. It’s a tragedy that deals with pain and healing, and it bares naked the non-linear nature of grief. It’s a celebration of the things that make us unique, of our flaws, an essay of the impact of little acts of love. Indeed, it’s a story about love.

I can tell you now, This is an Adjuration moved me. It still does. It has a special way to surface in my mind in unexpected ways at seemingly random times, from something as simple as tossing an apple core, to watching a lightning storm in the distance, or finding a picture of an old friend.

And every time, without fail, it makes me think about love.

By @sunny-porridge

This is an Adjuration is a wonderfully and beautifully crafted story about love, loss, and choice as the various incarnations of Link come together and travel through time. Freyja seamlessly weaves a tapestry of setup and payoff across different timelines and loops, in the best-constructed time travel plot I’ve ever seen on page or screen. Even at its surface, Adjuration is an emotional rollercoaster involving tragedy and the soft moments that make that tragedy worth it. But the deeper you look, the more meaning you can pull from every chapter of this amazing work. This work has made me cry, squeal with delight, and think more deeply about its themes all while having an absolute blast reading it. So in summary: READ IT. READ IT. READ IT NOW. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.

By @life-in-winter

While I love that every chapter is emotionally enthralling, with carefully woven, visceral tension you crave in any good story, yet Adjuration is more than that, and you feel it in the careful weave of each character and plot point. Nothing is lost or unanswered. It's the kind of story that, by the end, makes you stop and take a hard look at your own life. Are you appreciating the now? Are you savoring joy? Are you so wrapped up in fear that you can hardly take care of yourself? Do you know who you are?

This story is more like an external experience. It's riding atop a tsunami. How do you handle that ride, Link?

There aren't enough words to describe how amazing this fic is.

@needfantasticstories

Artist credit

Legend: @gia-d

Hyrule: @bittirsweeteer

Time: @toonblade

Sky: @noorahqar

Warriors: @whitewinterstar

Wild: @weavingstarlight

Twilight: @bluury2

Wind: @thewitchdoctor39

Four: @lunaopus

Red: @peepthatbish

Blue: @glowingmin

Green: @winterfen

Vio: @waterfallstream

Shadow: @deleetrix

Wolfie: @linkiscool333

Fierce Deity: @awildsilver

Ravio: @lele5429

Malon: @tooner-tastic

Dink: @passerinesoncaffeine

[patheticpeoplesupreme]

Au where SQH messes up a little too much during their head disciple days and System punishes him not with death, but by ripping him of his personality and memories, leaving him a husk of his former self. For years, the mountain has tried to fix him but to no avail, Mobei—Jun kidnapped him and forced his underlings to fix SQH but

Nothing worked. Eventually, An Ding Peak worked without a Peak Lord, and they all mourned for SQH’s technical death/disappearance.

When SY appeared as a disciple of SQQ and helped to fix his relationships with everyone, aka SQQ and LQG become bffs, YQY reconciles with SQQ

And SQQ started to treat LBH better, he still calls him little beast though, but anyway,

Despite that, the cliff scene still happens because the system wants tragedy, and now SY stresses out alone for the next few years, vaguely remembering the plant body

The plot still continues, meanwhile while they’re both dead for a while, when the peak lords found out SQH’s body was in Mobei—Jun’s palace, they tried for years to get both SQH’s and SQQ’s body

And more of the plot happens

And eventually, SY and LBH get together and there’s a happy ending for them, until SY remembers that he’s never once seen the An Ding peak lord,

He’d felt unnerved when MBJ was the one who invaded instead of the rhino, but he didn’t have time to question it

He asks YQY about which leads him to asking LBH to asking MBJ if he would let SY to talk to SQH’s body. MBJ only lets him go inside because LBH mentioned how knowledgeable SY was about various things.

MBJ protectively stays in the room, LBH stays to protect SY

—

“Shang Qinghua?” He says aloud, staring at the traitor spy cautiously. He didn’t really understand why MBJ was protective of the man, though he supposed it’s because SQH couldn’t have betrayed him in this timeline if he was just a husk.

Still, he wondered, what changed? Why had SQH lost his soul? Was it like… Him? Was the system preparing for another transmigrator? But YQY said that he’d been in a sort f a coma for years! Why would the system wait this long?

Suddenly, the system beeped

[Would User 02 like to free User 01 from his punishment?]

!!!

User 01?? What!? System!??? You can’t use spring that up on him without context??!?

[Would User 02 like context?]

YES PLEASE??

[User 01 transmigrated here as a baby! Unfortunately, User 01 lost too many points! Too much OOC! So the System has inflicted punishment on User 01!]

This is… so severe! Shen Yuan frowned and kneeled down to his level. His heart churned for the former user, he didn’t think there could have been such a severe punishment.

“Who was he…?” He murmured, not noticing that the two demons in the room was heard. MBJ restrained himself from responding, it hurt to remember the small little human that vowed to follow him for all his like.

[User 01’s USER ID is Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky!]

“…”

“You..” MBJ gritted out after a long silence of SY staring at the body, it was getting irritating. It also unnerved him. He wasn’t doing anything, but he seemed to reach a level of understanding that no one else could.

Still, LBH gave him a look, even if he was also doubting SY’s actions a little, “Have patience.”

This time, SY took care to say it in his head.

‘Can’t you free him from his punishment?? It’s been years! The plot is practically over now! Just—! He doesn’t deserve this suffering!’

[The System thought User 02 hated User 01 for writing Proud Immortal Demon Way OwO]

‘That doesn’t mean I want him to live as a husk of his former self! He had a life! The peak lords never described him as a bad person! What would it take for you to give his life back!?]

[Hm…]

What do you mean HMM?!?!?

[Analysing.]

[Analysing.]

[Analysing.]

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Good things must be said three times! Due to User 02 managing to complete the plot, the System will reward User 02 by freeing User 01 for free! No points will be deducted! The data of User 01 ; Shang Qinghua will be transferred slowly!]

Shen Yuan only sighed in relief and stepped back when he spotted Airplane’s soul flowing back into his body.

He didn’t wake immediately, it’s been far too long for that, but he saw two light streams of tears running down his cheeks, barely breathing as his body worked up to becoming functional.

Mobei Jun gasped and rushed to his side, his cold hands freezing the tears, but he never stopped holding SQH’s body closely.

[dark-night-hero]

hi :'D man your writing of tragedy makes me want to cry and i love it

the first one i read from your works is zhongli losing y/n his mate because he wasnt there when a god wrecked havoc, so i got an idea.

neuvi's old old, and focalors invited him to be the iudex of fontaine right? during his early days in fontaine he struggled so much with interacting with humans. what if, he meets a human (y/n) who doesnt care that their new iudex had come from nowhere, and completely aids neuvi with communicating with humans and they form such a close bond that he doesnt understand, but right as he decides to go for it and ask yn he receives news of a new case ; yn's murder :D

i swear i did not mean for this ask to be long i am so sorry 😭

Humans can be cruel ang cunning creatures. If not then crimes and wars would have never happened. They are beings who are capable of hurting each other for the sake of their own gain. They would not hesitate to use each other and kill each other.

That is the human on Neuvillette, the new iudex of Fontaine. He does not even know why he accepted such invitation. In the first place, his hesrt was distant from the people. His imagine of them was quite... bad. Maybe that was just his discrimination, but the more he get to stand on trial, then more distorted his imagine of mortals become.

And then he met you. You who was a human, but different from the humans that the knew. You were just... different. You do not look at him with fear nor do you look at him with indifference. The way you act around him, you just act like yourself.

He met you in a rainy day, a rainy day after a trial. He was walking unbothered under the rain, when a figure with umbrella started walking towards him. "Ah- Ah! Mister-!" At first, he ignore it despite the softness of the voice whom was talking to him. "Wait-!" He was avoiding people as good as he can. He saw no good in interacting with them.

"Hey!" He was getting pissed to be honest, the rain was getting heavier and once in a while a thunder could be heard. He was ready to brush the person off when suddenly, the rain stopped. There was an umbrella over his head. "Are you crazy! At this rate you're going to get sick!" What? Neuvillette was stunned, letting himself get dragged by this mortal who does not seem to recognise him or did they? "Iudex or not, what are you thinking walking under the pouring rain? Here! Take this umbrella!" After going under some shade, he watch you left him out much thought, he was holding your umbrella as you only have your hands protecting you from the rain.

You are weird. Weird in a good way that does not make sense. Maybe it was a coincidence, but after thatm he kept bumping into you. In his walk in his way into the court and when he was coming back from the court. In the path he talk, you were always there talking to him even though he does not reply. Still, it was strange how with you, he felt comfort.

"It's raining again, and here you are walking under the rain. Seriously, what's with you?" ... "Rather than that, what's with you?" "Me? What's wrong with me?" "You're different from other." "What makes me different from them?" He did not answer after that, for he too does not know what to say. How weird.

You were pretty close to him. He does not know how, but many all those walk together with you was working. In the end, he found himself completely relax and comfortable around you. "Now that I think about it. I'm your only friend, no?" ... "gasp! For real?" "Humans... I found them rather hard to communicate with." After all those trials, he does not know what to think about humans anymore. That is why he found you weird. "Why? Why is that?!" You pout. "Well..." He stopped walking and ponder for a while. "Maybe it's because I have seen mostly the dark side of humans that I cannot seem to know what to think and say to them." He replied after a little while. "Hey! That's totally unfair! If you try hard enough to know more about us there is more than the dark side there is to see!" "Hmmm. I doubt..." "No! Seriously, you jut have to open up your heart to the people and you will see the goodness in their heart." You laugh. To be honest, he does know that. After all, there was no other ways he could describe you but a good person and perhaps, maybe even more than that. But to open his heart to the people other than you... "Right... I'll think about it."

Neuvillette always find it difficult to interact with people. Most of the time he had this instinct to stay away from them. Maybe it has something to do with their origins, he was a high being after all and humans. Humans are just... humans. Nevertheless from the moment he have met you, he knew he was doomed. Doomed to understand humans. From the moment he get to know more of you, the more he mindset starts to change. Maybe... maybe humans are not as bad a he thought them to be.

"Are you okay?" The cafe was not crowded. It was almost midnight when the two of you decided to go into one. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" You asked with a smile on your face. Nevertheless Neuvillette did not fail to notice the way your eyes quickly scan the surroundings, the way you seemed to be anxiously playing with your fingers. But then, you are looking at him dead in the eyes telling him you are fine. Maybe it was nothing. "It's getting dark, shall we go?"

That night, Neuvillette decided to give it a try. Maybe just as you said, humans are not bad as he thought they would be. Maybe just like you said, all he need to do is to open his heart to the people and see things in a different perspective. Thinking about it makes his lips curl up, thinking how joyful you would be if he were to tell you that in person. But.

Humans can be cruel ang cunning creatures. If not then crimes and wars would have never happened. They are beings who are capable of hurting each other for the sake of their own gain. They would not hesitate to use each other and kill each other.

"What is this?" His hands were shaking. "Earlier a citizen named (First name) (Lastname) was found mur-?! Monsieur?! Where-" He rush out the room. He run and run and run until he was under the heavy rain. Hands still clenching the piece of goddamn paper with such gruesome, unbelievable concent. No, he would not believe it. He could not believe it. You were just walking with him earlier this day, your smile as too real for it to be unreal. He had just seen you earlier so why? Why are you there sitting in your own pool of blood soaked under the rain?

He could not even approach you, he just watch there along with the other people watching the crime scene get cleaned up like it was nothing. People were looking at you with interest like yu were some kind of entertainment after all. It was the very first case of murder in Fontaine.

Neuvillette could hear nothing under the rain, he just stood there under the same spot even after tour body was taken away. Countless thoughts running in his head. Why? Why does it have to be you? Why do humans never change? Why does t has to be you? Why? Just fucking why you? You asked Neuvillette to give humans a chance. But how could he do that now that he knew humans were the very same being that took you away from him?

Neuvillette did not cry but he just stand there, eyes bloodshot as his lips leak blood from bitting so hard, hands curl into a fist. He was mad, so mad that he wanted to end things right now. He was starting to blame everyone, the world for taking away the only good thing that ever happened to him. In his eyes were those full of hatred and is ready to explode. He would never forgive-

Neuvillette felt a weak thug on his pants, for a moment, he looked down. The first thing he noticed was the blood stained water right in front of him before the child that was holding on into him. "Ha-hydro dragon. Do-don't cry." The child sniff, tears rolling down his cheeks upon saying so.

Neuvillette does not like humans. They are a cruel and cunning being who took away the love of his life before he could even realise it was love. At the same time, these humans were the being that his love one loves very much. "Don't worry." He slowly reach out and pat the little boy's head and magically, he was suddenly dried despite the pouring rain. "The hydro dragon doesn't cry." Just like that, the rain that seemed to be drowning in sadness stopped.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: I think I fucked up. Na bobo ata ako sa sunod sunod na quiz at exam kanina HAHAHA IT'S SO HOT IN THE PH HUHU

: No but seriously I think I fucked up making this asked. HAHAHAHHA did I do it right? Imma delete this na lang charot.

[thesandyhooktragedy]

was adam lanza a pedophile?

this is a topic of hot debate. personally i don’t believe it add or subtracts much from his case, but nevertheless people love to discuss it. so let’s discuss!

why do people think he’s a pedophile in the first place? from a young age, lanza had a fascination with violence against children. in elementary school, lanza wrote several stories featuring violence against children.

later in life, lanza would write a 35-page essay defending pedophilia as part of his college application. in this essay, lanza postulated that pedophile rights were part of the “liberation of children”, and that children should be able to make decisions as adults would. lanza also stated that he believed an “adult-child relationship” could be “beneficial for both parties”.

lanza would expand on this essay on his youtube channel, CulturalPhilistine, in an 8 part series titled “On pedophiles and children”. the transcripts for these videos can be found here

after lanza’s attack on Sandy Hook, police would find notes and basic sketches of scenes for a play called “Lovebound”, written by lanza, on his hard drive. the play would depict a relationship between a 10-year-old boy and a 30-year-old man.

many users of the forum that lanza was on, Shocked Beyond Belief, seemed to have an impression of him that included him having an attraction to children.

(full sources of picture one and three can be found here and here! these specific screenshots were found from a post by lanzagf.)

so, was he a pedophile? we have no definitive way of knowing, and there’s an equal amount of evidence suggesting that he wasn’t one. when police searched lanza’s hard drive, they found no sexual content featuring children.

it’s well known that lanza was an odd man all around, so perhaps his fascination with violence against children simply came from his “antinatalism” and general violent thoughts rather than an actual attraction to children. maybe the impression that other SBB users had of him came from his awkward personality.

the biggest question, i think, is does it matter?

an article published by the Connecticut Post puts it best—

Dr. Charles Herrick, the head of psychiatry at Danbury Hospital, said it is difficult with the information released to date to know if Lanza's interest in pedophilia had any influence on his behavior.

"The material related to his obsession with mass shootings is far more compelling about what is driving his behavior," he said.

although pedophilia could be a possible motivator of lanza’s attack on Sandy Hook, his fascination with mass shootings—something which appears to be a trend in a lot of mass shooters—is far more relevant. however, the Connecticut Post’s article offers an explanation on how lanza being a pedophile could’ve motivated him to attack Sandy Hook.

[Dr. Fred] Berlin said one could speculate that Lanza, if he had pedophilia tendencies, could have targeted the elementary school in an attempt to eliminate temptation.

"The idea is that someone who has a strong desire for something and they're forbidden to act upon it, they can be angry at the source of temptation," he said. "It's not unreasonable, given what happened. There must have been a tremendous amount of rage inside of him."

as i stated, there’s no definitive way of knowing whether or not adam lanza was a pedophile. either way, i don’t believe it adds or subtracts much from his case, as it does little to change much about his moral character. i don’t believe there’s any point in arguing about something that only serves to make a tragedy more disturbing.

what do you think? was adam lanza a pedophile or not?

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 27: Take Me Back To The Beginning

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty seven of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 13.3K (I tried to cut it down I promise 😭)

Warnings:  I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. Homelander is a freak AGAIN,  A little bit of Oedipal Complex (It's Homelander the man is a walking Greek Tragedy), Graphic depiction of death, Dark thoughts, References to Past Trauma,  Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Homophobic comment (It's Soldier Boy), Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/n: It's that time y'all! The final battle is finally here! This chapter was a doozy to write, there were so many things that needed to be wrapped up, but I really have loved writing this series and I really like how everything came together.

READER POV

The building is just as cold as you remember it, the hallways are silent and empty as if they'd been cleared for this exact moment as the three of you make your way into the depths of Vought Tower.

I wonder if Homelander was the one who did it, or if someone else realized what was coming.

There was an electricity in the air like the coming storm, rolling in front of Ben, Butcher, and you like a dark omen.

Homelander is going to get what is coming to him.

Any remorse you had for him left the moment that he took Lou. There was nothing human to save, nothing left to redeem, the only thing left was the sharpened, cruel creature that Vought created from your own flesh and blood.

And if you were his beginning, you might as well be his end.

Ben was walking beside you, any softness that you'd seen outside the building replaced by the cold calculating mask of Soldier Boy, you knew all too well, but this time you didn't fear his descent into the blaze, you reveled in it. For the first time in years, you were happy to see Soldier Boy again, and this time you knew that Ben was becoming this for you, for Lou, and for Rosemary.

You hoped that this time he wouldn't hold you back from doing what you needed to do as he had earlier. Though he did seem sorry for what happened while the two of you were outside, you weren't sure how eager he was to put it into practice.

Butcher seems to know where he is going, so you fall into step behind him, not concerned as to how Butcher knows exactly where he is headed. He stops outside a massive gilded door across from a rather exhaustive statue of the Seven craved from black marble.

The double doors that lead into the main conference room at Vought Tower are made to look intimidating, but you didn't feel anything but anger and fear. Not fear for yourself, but fear of what Homelander had done to Lou and to Rosemary.

Butcher pushes open the doors with one hand revealing a large room that lacks warmth. The last rays of the setting sun send honeyed light onto the black marble floors, dramatizing Homelander's stoic figure where he stands at the large floor to ceiling wall of windows at the opposite side of the room. His gaze is focused on the city below, like a proud emperor observing his kingdom and everything he owns.

He probably believes he does.

You think to yourself, eyes skating around the edges of the room looking for possible threats, but you don't see any. The wall to your left is lined with monitors and the wall to your right also has some, but instead holds a smaller pair of black double doors.

You didn’t know what kind of tricks Homelander had up his sleeve, but you were preparing yourself for the worst. Of the Seven teammates remaining he was the most formidable. You doubted that the Deep could do anything to you on dry land and you were more than happy to turn him into a tuna roll. You were a little worried about A-Train. He was fast enough to cause a problem, but you didn't know how much. Butcher had told you not to be worried about Hughie's girlfriend Starlight, mentioned that she wouldn’t side with Homelander and that she probably wouldn't be anywhere near Vought Tower. You figured that she'd probably gone to pick up Hughie from the gas station that Butcher had left him at, but you didn't know if she would come take down Homelander.

Honestly you were more worried that she would come for Ben. You'd seen her posts on social media proclaiming Soldier Boy as a terrorist and a villain, which meant that she probably wasn't your biggest fan either. You hoped that she was far away, you didn't want to kill someone who didn't deserve it or rather someone who lashed out against Ben or you because they didn't understand the whole situation.

Butcher also seemed unsure about who would be at Vought, mentioned something in passing about his old team that included the man you'd seen back at Herogasm, but you hadn't seen anyone in the building or sensed that anything unusual was about to happen other than your plan to rip out Homelander's spine and wear it around your neck like a fur boa.

"I remember the first time I stood here." Homelander says without turning around. You could see his pristine reflection in the glass, blonde hair perfectly styled and glowing in the last few wisps of sunlight. "I hadn't seen anything like New York City before, hadn't been around so many people in my entire life." His arms are crossed behind his back, the epitome of control. "They told me it was mine. That this was what I had been bred for my entire life." He glances over his shoulder at you. "I would have been willing to share it with you and dad."

"Where are Lou and Rosemary?" You keep your voice under control.

He ignores you and turns, eyes flicking from Butcher, to Ben, to you. "You are so beautiful. When I imagined what my mother would look like I never imagined someone like you. Maybe I imagined you looking a little more motherly." The feeling of his eyes tracing your figure makes your skin crawl. "But I can see why dad loves you so much. And of course why Noir was obsessed with you."

The mention of Noir makes your blood run cold. How did he know about that? Did Noir tell him?

That was another side of this whole situation that you had considered, you had no idea where Noir was. If he had stayed at the Tower or if he had cut and run when he heard that the rest of his team was being killed one by one. You hoped that it was the first option, trying to hunt him down and find him seemed inconvenient and you'd much rather just settle this now.

"Answer her question." Ben growls, the air around the two of you heating from Ben's newfound powers and the smell of ozone begins to float under your nose. He was trying to hold himself back from stepping in front of you and hiding you behind his body, that much was obvious. You could tell how much he hated how Homelander kept staring at you.

You did too. The guy is creepy enough, does he have to turn this into a Greek Tragedy? Did he see how things ended up for Oedipus?

Homelander only smiles, the same one he had back at Legend's, wide and with too much teeth. The smile of a predator before it catches it's prey, pretty until its teeth latch onto your throat.

He's very confident for someone who has no chance of taking down both of us. Then again, maybe he feels that way because he has the two people in the world who mean everything to me.

You strain your hearing to find Lou and Rosemary, but you can't hear them. There's a low buzz being projected through the building that makes it impossible for you to hear anything else.

Interesting that he's willing to handicap us even if it handicaps him as well.

"Hello William, still standing in my way and feeding them lies about me I see." Homelander tsks his finger as if Butcher is a child.

"Jealous that your dear old dad gets along better with me? Or maybe that your mother doesn't think that I'm as big a twat as you?" Butcher breezes with an easy smile.

Homelander's right eye twitches with Butcher's taunt.

"Sorry mate, does that make you angry? That your parents see me as the son they never had?" Butcher's smile grows.

You take this moment to skate your eyes around the room looking for any evidence of your granddaughter and daughter but you don't see any. Butcher was buying you time, but you didn't know how long it would take for Homelander to be done talking and you were ready to beat the location of your daughter and granddaughter out of him.

"Where are Lou and Rosemary?" Ben shouts again interrupting Butcher. "If you've hurt either of them I swear-"

"Why would I hurt my niece? I'm not a monster. She's fucking four years old." Homelander scoffs.

But hidden in his answer is the possibility that he hurt Rosemary, and it makes your blood run cold.

"We both know that you're capable of that." You respond coldly. "You thought nothing of using her as a human shield earlier."

Homelander presses a hand to his chest as if you've hurt him. "Why mother dearest, how could you say that about your only son?"

"Tell me where they are, and I will consider letting you live." You say without emotion.

Lie.

"There she is." Homelander smirks. "There's the woman I know and love. The one I met at Herogasm had so much ferocity, such rage, and pride. I think you try to hide her behind this. When you act pathetic and human." He gestures to you as if that explains things. "Because you're afraid to embrace it."

"You don't know me-"

"Well. The saying is, like father like son, but-" Homelander's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "The woman I met at Herogasm, she's something special, and exactly like me. Not to mention the woman who killed Stan is just as ferocious, and I'd like to talk to her."

"Keep pissing me off and you're gonna do a little more than talk to her."

Homelander chuckles. "Don't tease me." He has the audacity to wink.

"Don't you fucking look at her that way you sick fuck." Ben growls.

"Why? Aren't pretty things made to be worshipped?" His smirk grows. "And if I had someone like her I sure would worship her."

Ben lunges forward, to wipe the smirk off his face, but when you reach out and grab his arm, he stops. When he turns to look at you he looks like he's ready to snap Homelander in half, a fire blazing behind his eyes that you're not sure if it's because you held him back or because he's upset over what Homelander said.

With your eyes you try to say:

"You can rip him apart after he tells us where Lou and Rosemary are."

You're not sure Ben gets it, but he doesn't advance so you assume he got some form of that.

Deep down you were worried that Homelander had already handed them over to Vought or to the government for some kind of deal. It was an all consuming fear, because yes you would fight tooth and nail to get them back, but it wouldn't be easy if you had to fight the United States government to do it.

"Ashley." Homelander says, but when no one appears he roars the name again, with so much ferocity that it echoes off the walls of the round room, vibrating against the monitors, and into the hallway behind you.

A red-haired woman appears at the black double doors on the right side of the room, looking frazzled and pale. There are pieces of her hair stuck to her fashionable black pantsuit in clumps and she's wearing a pair of crimson heels that clack loudly against the marble floors. She's got a death grip on her phone so tight that you can hear the tension of her tendons in her hand.

You remember seeing her before in the background of an interview on t.v., but never paid much attention to her. Ben looks as confused as you do at her appearance, no doubt waiting for her to start lobbing fireballs or make heads explode, but instead she drags Lou through the doors behind her.

Lou looks the same as she did when Homelander took her, still wearing the same pink polka dot pajamas, except now she's holding the hand of a boy who looks maybe twelve years old with blondish-brown hair that hangs into his eyes that you're assuming is Ryan.

The woman, identified as Ashley disappears as suddenly as she appeared and slams the doors behind her.

Probably had the right idea. This entire room is about to become ground zero. Which is horrifying because now Lou is here.

The amount of relief you feel at the appearance of your granddaughter is overwhelming, fear of her being locked away somewhere evaporating as her eyes fall on you, wide and green.

"Lou." You breathe and cross the room to get to her, ignoring Homelander's gaze that follows your every move. You drop to your knees to give her a hug, but for the first time since you met her, she doesn't hug you back. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?” She's not smiling at you, she's frowning.

"Are you my grandma?"

The question makes you freeze for a moment. Obviously Homelander had told her the truth about everything and you didn't want to lie to her again. You knew this day would come, but you didn't think that she would find out this way. If anything Rosemary and you were going to tell her when she was old enough to understand that it wasn't something she should say in public.

You didn't look like a grandmother, nor did you think that anyone would believe Lou if she said it in public, but it would reveal that you were in fact Indigo.

Then again, we're probably past that. You frown at the thought, but it was true. There was no going back. You'd walked into Vought with no disguise in front of all the cameras and you certainly were going to leave your mark here tonight. You'd be lucky if Vought didn't run the story in the morning:

"Payback Strikes Back Against the Celebrated Seven"

Of course in that story everyone would conveniently forget that Ben and you were also beloved heroes, were also worshipped and elevated in society. Funny how things like that seem to be lost in translation.

"Yes." You reach up to push back her hair and she moves her head away, her dark hair slipping through your fingertips.

"Why did you lie? Lying is mean." She whispers, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Did you not want to be my grandma?" Lou looks down at her feet clad in a pair of teddy bear slippers.

"Oh sweetie." You sigh, tilting her chin up to look at you. "I did. I am. It was just easier this way-"

"Mommy says that lying is bad." Her green eyes are watery, voice quiet.

"I know. It is. But you have to understand it was a grown-up decision and we didn't want you to find out like this." This time she lets you brush her hair back from her face. "And it doesn't mean we love you any less."

Her eyes flick to Ben. Ben had followed you over, to make sure that Homelander didn't attack you when your back was turned.

"You're my grandpa?" Lou sniffles.

"Yeah." Ben forces a tight smile for Lou's sake, but you know that he's thinking that this isn't the place for this.

It isn't.

You could still feel Homelander's eyes against your back and you were trying to fight the shudder of disgust.

"Ryan say hello to your grandparents." Homelander calls from his position by the window, his voice proud and filled with  humor.

"Hello." Ryan smiles, but its hesitant and you’re happy that he’s at least able to read the room. A skill that his father didn't seem to have.

"Hi." You smile back tightly, the same smile that Ben had moments ago.

Meeting Ryan made all of this worse. You hear Homelander's footsteps as he gets closer to you and Ben mirrors his movement to block Homelander narrowing his eyes. You weren't here for a family reunion, you were here to kill Homelander and get your family back, but the thought of killing Ryan's father in front of him made you hesitate. That was something that seemed too cruel to consider, unless if Ryan was somehow shown how monstrous his father was.

Homelander holds his hands up in mock surrender. "I just want to talk this out."

You stand and push Lou behind you, refusing to let Homelander get anywhere near her again. "I thought you didn't want to talk to us anymore." You spit the words.

"I changed my mind." He forces his expression into something that looks like shame. "Maybe I got a little carried away before. But you have to understand I have been waiting to be apart of a family for such a long time and now that I have Ryan I’ve realized how important it is to have one. I'd never felt that kind of love for someone else, the kind of love that drives you to sacrifice whatever you have to save them.” He glances down at Lou who is peeking out from behind your leg at Homelander. "The kind of love you have for Lou."

He speaks like a practiced actor, his hand movements simple, rehearsed, the expressions on his face calm and collected, but you don't believe it for a minute.

"I know you said that I wasn’t your son, but I am." He says, eyes flicking from Ben to you. "I am your blood that's all that matters and now we can be a family. A real family."

"Where is Rosemary?" You ask. Lou hasn't moved from behind you.

"Please. All I'm asking is for a chance-" Homelander says ignoring your question.

"Why should we give you a fucking chance? You kidnapped Lou, you've probably hurt Rosemary or worse!" You could feel the room beginning to shake with the force of your anger, eyes shifting to purple.

"You kidnapped her, Dad?" Ryan asks in surprise.

You look back at where he was standing. Lou was still holding on to his hand and when you'd pushed her behind you, you'd also inadvertently pushed Ryan behind you too.

"I thought you said that Lou wanted to come live with us." Ryan continues looking confused. "And who's Rosemary?"

"He lied." Ben snarls, eyes not leaving Homelander.

"My guess is he does that a lot." You sigh looking at Ryan. "She's Lou's mother, your aunt. She flew after him when he took Lou. You haven't seen her?"

Ryan shakes his head.

Fuck.

Homelander ignores the question again and changes tactics, his blue eyes turning on Ben. "I understand what it's like for your team to betray you, to stab you in the back, to act like you didn't fight together, bleed together and to act like you weren't willing to die for one another. We could be unstoppable together, all of us. A family. Isn't that what you always wanted dad?" Homelander says the last part softly, enticing Ben to make that choice. "I read your file. Everything about what happened to your mother and it wasn't hard to figure out what happened with your father."

Ben's jaw clenches together and you watch his entire body tighten at the mention of his dad.

It was true. Ben had always wanted a family, always wanted someone in his life that cared for him, that he could love and be loved by, and you had made sure in all the years you'd known him that it was you. You were his family just as Ben had become your family and cared for you. It was hard to not be family to one another after all the years you'd spent together, to not care about him the way you did. It wasn't a burden to you to love Ben and wasn’t a burden for you to take up the title of family, because it was simply true.

You reach out and touch Ben's back to let him know that you’re there, feeling his muscles twitch for just a moment beneath your hand, before he glances over his shoulder at you. For just a fraction of a second you see the Soldier Boy façade drop and you see your Ben again, before something hardens in his eyes. The conversation that passes through the glance you share is absolute and quick, but he understands.

Ben takes a step towards Homelander letting your hand fall as he forces a tired sigh. "I'm sorry." He places his hand on Homelander's right shoulder.

You watch Homelander relax under the contact, the expression on his face hurts you. You didn't think it would, but Homelander looks happy and comforted that Ben was here with him. Content that Ben finally gave in.

In some ways you wished that it could be this way, that Homelander was redeemable, and that you could all be a family the way he wanted. But you couldn’t. The blood on his hands was too great and you had to stop him before anyone else got hurt.

"I'm sorry that I wasn't there, sorry that I wasn't able to teach you what I should have father to son." Ben sighs. "I think it would have helped you. I think your mother could have helped you."

"You're here now." Homelander says, looking over Ben shoulder at you, his eyes misty. You force yourself to send him an encouraging smile. "Both of you are." Homelander's voice sticks a little as he says it.

Something deep down breaks when he says that, because it’s the same thing that Ben and you had said to each other outside. As much as you wanted to hate Homelander, to push him away, another part of you was beginning to unravel, the part of you that wanted to accept him as your son. But you couldn’t because he didn't deserve that. Homelander was the monster that Vogelbaum created, there wasn’t a shred of human decency left and that meant Ben and you had to make a hard decision.

You wonder if Ben really did feel that way or if he was just doing this because he knew you wanted him to.

Ben continues to smile at him. "It would have helped you not to become a sniveling weak pussy starved for attention."

Homelander's smile falters. "Weak? But I'm your blood. Your son-"

"I know." You try to ignore the emotion that bleeds into Ben's voice when he says it. "And you're a fucking disappointment."

"What-" Homelander doesn't get the word out before Ben tackles him back away from you and Butcher leaps over the table to help him.

Ryan stiffens behind you as they do this and you look at him. "Dad?" Ryan whispers.

Lou gasps and touches the end of your shirt in fear, watching Homelander fight Butcher and Ben back, his eyes glowing an ominous red.

You open your mouth to say something to her and Ryan, but you feel a sharp pressure on the back of your neck and hear a high pitched snap.  You turn your head to look to your right and see Black Noir standing there, a broken syringe that holds a clear liquid in his right hand. The tip snapped when he had tried to press it into your body, unaware that your newfound power meant that nothing could break your skin.

"Ryan, please take Lou out of here. I don't want her to see this." You say calmly, not looking away from Noir, who lowers the syringe slowly in shock.

"But-" Ryan begins to say.

"Do it now." You order turning your body to face Noir. "Hello Earving. Long time no see."

Noir takes a small step backward realizing his mistake as Ryan pulls Lou to the doors on the other side of the room.

You hear Noir try to form a word, nothing more than an awkward click and a wheezing sound. "Sorry I can't hear you." You smile cruelly at him.

"I’d say you look good but, Ben really fucked you up pretty good didn't he?" You look through the mask with your x-ray vision, seeing just how messed up Noir is underneath. "It's a miracle that you're alive. That any of you got out of there alive."

Noir drops the syringe and pulls a knife, the blade shining in the fluorescent lights.

"You know, if the syringe didn't work, I don't think the knife will either." You begin to say, but he's undeterred.

He lunges forward sweeping the blade in a deadly arch aiming for your neck, but you catch his wrist. “If I had been there you all would have suffered.” You turn his wrist at an awkward angle, listening to the sharp cracking of bone as it snaps and Noir’s wheeze of pain.

Behind you, you could hear the telltale sound of punching and crashing, but you don’t look away from Noir, trusting that Ben and Butcher have it under control.

"Before I killed Countess I had to listen to her go on and on about how proud she was about that day, how proud she was that you all stabbed Ben in the fucking back, and honestly I didn’t mean to kill her. Though I will admit I regret not making it last a little longer. The Twins begged for mercy, tried to tell me that it was a big mistake, that Ben lied to me." You shrug advancing on him. "But Ben doesn't lie to me."

Noir tries again, kicking his foot up to hit your abdomen, but your hand closes on his ankle keeping his leg extended between the two of you.

 "He told me exactly what happened that day." You snarl, shoving Noir back from you so harshly that he lands on the ground. "You all turned on him. And honestly, you got off easy. You're lucky I wasn't there. Do you have any idea what I would have done to you if I had been there?" You smile and let out a low laugh. "Well I guess that doesn't matter, because you’re about to find out."

He scuffles back still on the ground, trying to crawl back, and reaches into his pocket for something. You were expecting a gun or a throwing knife, but instead he pulls out a notepad and a pen and you stop.

"What are you-" You begin to say, but Noir starts frantically writing with his only good hand.

He curls his ruined arm under the notepad to hold it steady as he forms the words on the page, and holds it up for you to see.

Did it for you.

"What?"

Noir drops the pad to write again.

Using you.

"Who?"

Him.

"Ben?"

Noir nods frantically.

Only way.

Wow he is so much worse off than I thought.

Then again, when Ben broke your heart you did think that too for a little bit. That all the years spent together had been a lie and that he was manipulating you and using you because he didn’t want to face the silence alone. It reminded you of the thing your mother shouted at you when you gave Howard back the ring and left home:

“You really think that disappointment will ever love you? Care about you? You are nothing to him, just another plaything. And the day he finally tosses you away, don’t bother coming back here.”

It makes you hesitate again and Noir sees it as an opportunity to write more on his piece of paper.

Set you free.

"You thought that the only way to free me was to send Ben to fucking Russia?"

Noir nods.

"I wasn't some fucking damsel in distress. I wasn't locked up in a tower by some dragon. I wasn't trapped-

You were.

"No I wasn't I chose to be there-"

Not happy.

"I was happy Earving."

I am better for you.

Your jaw snaps together, looking past the mask and into his scarred face. The expression in his eyes has shifted now, to something softer, something vulnerable and earnest. You remember what Stan said about Noir going through your apartment when you weren't there, stealing pieces of your clothing, and stealing your jewelry.

I did everything for you.

Noir reaches into his pocket and pulls out something that glimmers in the light. It takes you a moment to recognize it, but it's your pearl necklace, the one your father gave you when you spent your first birthday away from home. He holds it out to you and you take it from his hand. The beads are just as you remember, maybe a little yellowed with age, but still in good condition. Soft and supple against your fingertips, warmed from where they were in Noir's pocket.

Said I could have you.

"Who?"

Stan.

The name of the man you killed makes your blood run cold and for a minute you feel bad for Noir, feel bad that he believed what Stan said. Stan who told Noir whatever he could into manipulating him to do his bidding.

Stan knew that he was obsessed with me, knew exactly what to say to make sure that Noir would do what he wished. And Noir believed that I was something that Stan could give away. I didn't belong to Stan, didn't belong to anyone but me.

That was the problem with Stan after all, that he thought you were a commodity to be sold. That everyone else in the entire world believed that you were nothing more than a puppet to be used and disposed of whenever they saw fit. It was the same attitude that drove Stan and Vogelbaum to take your genetic material.

But then you left. Tried to find you. Couldn't find you. Why did you hide?

You watched Noir's shoulders slump as if it was painful for him to go through the past forty years not knowing where you were.

Could have helped you.

 A chill of disgust traces its hand down your back. You wondered how long he had been stalking you and wondered how many things he still had from forty years ago. The pearls were quickly icing in your hands, a symbol of the girl you used to be, the one who walked around Philadelphia and saw the world in color, saw the good in people. You knew that she was gone, long gone. Not after everything that you'd been through in the past week, finding out about what Vogelbaum did to you changed you, finding out what happened to Rosemary with Charlie changed you into someone different.

But you didn’t hate who you had become. You glance behind you at where Ben is fighting Homelander, ducking beneath the blows that Homelander tries to land, dancing around him.

I love you.

When your eyes trace over the familiar words and see the earnestness in Noir's eyes behind the mask. A part of you breaks for Noir, understanding that his obsession with you maybe did stem from good intentions but the descent into madness that drove him to do the things he did was dark and consumed him quickly.

"Did you know about Homelander?"

Noir was still sitting on the ground looking up at you and when you ask the question you watch him drop his head to his chest in shame.

Yes.

You move the pearls to your front pocket, considering your next move. "I saved your life before from Ben, not because I loved you but because I didn’t think it was right for him to hurt you. I didn't think that you deserved to lose your life over a film role.” You murmur with a sigh “But maybe if you'd gone about this the right way I would have given you a chance."

Do it now.

"No." You shake your head.

But I love you. I'm here-

The next word is just a scribble now as you fling your hand out and Noir's body flies back into the concrete wall. It cracks around him as you increase the pressure and he begins to fold in on himself.

"If you really loved me Earving, you wouldn't have let them do that to me." Your voice sounds hollow, but you know that it's the truth. “You would have tried harder to find me every day, to tell me what they fucking did.”

“Did try-“ He wheezes in a broken voice, barely audible.

“Should have tried harder.”

"Please-" The word is only a shadow of what it should be, his injuries making it difficult to form it, and through the mask you see a single tear tracing the side of his scared face.

"Ben would have ripped them all apart if he knew what they did. But you didn't, you sat at Stan's table for forty years and did absolutely nothing. You don't get the privilege to beg for mercy. Not after the things you did to Ben, and after the things you kept from me." There’s a purple outline glowing all around him, weaving around his torso. Your hand closes, the subtle glow of purple around his body tightening more and more, his screams sounding more like muffled wheezes, different than the shrieks of pain that Stan released in his final moments. And you continue to close your hand until there's nothing left, but a ball of flesh, tissue, and bone sitting on the ground where Noir used to be. Blood flecks the floor, forming rivulets that run like rivers over the pristine black marble like the roots of a tree.

You take in a breath, trying not to go into the darkness again that surges up with Noir’s death, the same darkness that dragged you under when everything happened with Stan, but you right yourself and turn to look at where Ben is fighting Homelander.

Ben is shaking his head and rising from a pile of debris, while Homelander floats in the air holding Butcher by the throat, looking down at him with a sickening smile.

"Goodbye William." Homelander turns and throws him against the window. It shatters with the force of Butcher's body being thrown against it and his body disappears from view into the air outside of the building.

Homelander turns to look at Ben and you. Ben has a cut on his cheek from Homelander's laser vision and takes a shaky step forward, but he stands proudly, putting himself between Homelander and you.

“Dad why did you do that?" Ryan asks. "Butcher was my friend."

Your gaze flicks to where Ryan and Lou are peeking around the door way that leads to another part of the tower and you're suddenly afraid that Lou saw what you did to Noir, but she's only looking out the shattered window in horror, tears in her little eyes. She liked Butcher, thought that he was funny.

"He was standing in my way son. And we don't let anyone stand in our way do we? Even our friends." Homelander's hair is hanging in his face from the fight, suit ripped away from his chest to reveal the black bodysuit underneath, one of his golden eagle shoulder pads is missing, and he has a prominent bruise on his cheek.  "See isn’t that better. No more Butcher to spread lies about me. Now we can all talk like a family.”

"Wouldn’t be too sure of that you narcissistic cunt." You hear Butcher’s voice say.

Rosemary floats into the room, supporting Butcher with one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She's still wearing the exact same thing she was when she followed Homelander, but now the dark sweatpants and t-shirt are ripped and riddled with what look like bullet holes. Rosemary's hair is wild around her face the hair tie that held it long gone, and she has blood flecked on her arms that you’re sure isn’t hers.

But she's there and she's alive.

You weren’t going to ask her what happened, but the wave of relief you have with her appearance obliterates the weight on your shoulders.

“We aren’t a fucking family.” Rosemary grits her teeth together, spitting the words back at Homelander.

"Mommy!" Lou says happily pulling away from Ryan to go towards her mother, who is closer to Homelander than you wanted her to be.

"How did you-" Homelander sputters.

"Get out of that pathetic excuse for a trap?" She snarls, green eyes flashing, looking more like Ben as she touches down in the room, helping Butcher to his feet. "It was easy. But you and I aren't done."

"I think we are." Homelander's eyes glow bright red, letting lose a bolt, it glances off her arm, but Rosemary crashes into him, grabbing him around the wrist to bring him down against the ground so hard that it rattles the other windows in the room.

But as she tries to bring his body against the marble floor again, Homelander breaks free and rises from the ground to fasten his hand around her throat, his eyes still glowing a sharp red that cuts through the room.

"You’re really pathetic." Homelander sighs. "I expected more, but I suppose you have no training or no practice controlling your powers."

She spits in Homelander's face and his gaze turns murderous.

"Let her go." Ben snarls, his chest beginning to glow, and this time you know that he won't stop, that he won't hold back from hitting Homelander full blast.

Homelander ignores Ben, focusing on Rosemary. "You think that you’re more powerful than me? You're not. I am the oldest after all." Homelander's voice is eerily calm. “You are nothing. Insignificant. You waste your life caring for other people and it makes you weak.”

“Leave my mommy alone!” Lou shouts and kicks Homelander in the shin.

Homelander looks down at her, his eyes still glowing.

Oh shit.

“You know, I thought you were cute at first, but you’re really just annoying.” He sighs kicks out with his foot and before you can do anything Lou goes flying out the opening in the window with a blood curdling scream.

“No!” You shout as her body vanishes just as Butcher’s had only seconds ago. You feel your body take off the ground to chase after her, but before you make it out the window, Lou comes soaring back in her little fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“That was mean.” She states indignantly.

Your eyes widen in shock, feet touching back down on the ground. She can FLY?

“Wow. I kinda expected more than you only being able to fly seeing as you’re supposed to be so powerful but I guess-" Homelander begins to say.

Lou waves her hand a purple glow coming from around her fingertips and the large table in the middle of the room jerks off the floor and slams into Homelander like a freight train. A loud “ooof” comes out of his mouth as he drops Rosemary and flies back against the wall of monitors.

“Mommy are you okay?” Lou says hugging her mom tight.

“Yes sweetie.” Rosemary says hugging her back, but even she seems as stunned by this turn of events as you do.

Yes Rosemary had said that Lou was going to develop powers, but you didn’t think it was going to happen like this or this soon. Then again you weren’t well versed in how long it took for supe children to develop them. Rosemary had developed hers when she was one year old, but you were hoping that maybe you had a few years before Lou developed hers.

“How did she do that?” Ben murmurs to you.

“I have no idea. It’s not a power I was born with or Rosemary was born with. Same with the flying-“ You whisper back. “She didn’t touch Rosemary before she did it, but-“ A horrible thought comes flitting into your mind.

The truth was you’d never used your powers around Lou, neither had Rosemary. Lou didn't know that either of you were supes. She’d never had exposure to super powers before today, hadn't watched them on t.v or been around any other supes which meant that she was experiencing all of this for the first time.

And that’s why they’re manifesting right now.

“But what?”

“She saw me use telekinesis to fight Noir. She saw Homelander fly." You murmur.

I receive powers through death, Rosemary through touch, and Lou through sight.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

She could have limitless power, more than any of us, more than any supe that ever lived. No wonder Charlie was obsessed with her power. All she has to do is see a supe use their powers and-

The fear of Vought and the government comes crashing over you all over again, because you knew that they wouldn't let Lou go free, not when her ability was something like that, something that made her indestructible and unstoppable.

They'd run experiments on her, do whatever it took to try and gain that power for themselves, because who needed an army of supes when there was just one who was able to do anything?

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Ben leans towards you.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Ben mutters.

“You can say that again.”

Homelander rises from the ground brushing off his clothes with a snarl on his face eyeing Lou and Rosemary before he finally turns himself towards Ben and you. "I don’t understand why you're doing this."

"Us?" You scoff trying to shake off the shiver of fear that came with the revelation of Lou’s gift. "You’re the one who kidnapped an innocent child and just tried to throw her out a fucking window."

"You should thank me!" He snaps, eyes gleaming darkly in the light. "I unlocked her abilities. Something that neither of you had been able to do. And now she really is growing into her potential." His eyes flick to where Ryan is standing by Butcher. Butcher's hand is on his shoulder. "You really turned into a disappointment too. I tried to do all of that with you and all you did was kill your fucking mother!"

Ryan inhales sharply, and Butcher's hand tightens on his shoulder. "The only disappointment here is you." Butcher's eyes narrow as he stares at Homelander. "Ryan is not a disappointment to me and he wasn't a disappointment to Becca! And it's not his fault what happened to her."

"Oh right Becca." Homelander rolls his eyes. "You've really got to get over her. She wasn't anything special. Practically brainwashed Ryan into believing he wasn't special. When he comes from a practically god-like bloodline. Judging by Lou's powers I'd say that Ryan got the short end of the stick."

"We are not gods." You spit. "Can't you fucking see that? We are what Vought created. We live, we bleed, we die, that's it. Nothing more, nothing less."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." Homelander looks furious. "You were supposed to be my family, supposed to love me!" He looks from Ryan to Lou to Rosemary and then finally back at Ben and you. "Somebody has to like me best! Someone has to love me! I'm your blood! Your son! Your first born!"

"She's said it before and I'll say it again." Ben states from where he's standing next to you. "You might be our blood, but you're not our son."

The manic look on Homelander's face makes you anxious. He was like a feral animal backed into a corner. He knew that he had lost and you knew that there was no way to tell how he would react to this.

“Do you have any idea what I could do to you?” Homelander’s voice is more of a growl now as he begins to advance on Ben. “I am the most powerful super who ever lived. I am a god. And you are nothing compared to me.”

You step up beside Ben preparing for what comes next. “You’re nothing Homelander. You’re just a sad little boy who never grew up and became a hollow shell of a person that Vought filled with macho bullshit until you turned into a monster.” You say cooly. You were ready to fight him again, to kill him, because you knew he would never stop, that he wouldn’t leave any of you alone unless he was dead.

“I am not a monster!” His eyes are dark. “You think you’re so high and mighty? You’ve killed more people than me and at least I do it quickly. Did you enjoy it?” He smiles wide. “To watch the light fade from their eyes? To crush them into nothing while you sat back and craved their deaths?”

“The people I have killed I have killed to protect my family. I don’t do it for sport.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t just accept me! I’m your son! I’m not some fuck up disappointment! I’m Homelander! The greatest supe who ever lived. You should be proud of me! Proud to be my parents.” His eyes narrow. “Do you have any idea what I could give you? I have built an empire from nothing. Dad, you could be on top again, a household name, respect, power, money, women, anything you wanted and you’re really going to throw all of that away? For her? For them?”

Ben's eyes skate over Lou and Rosemary, and flick to you before he levels his gaze on Homelander once more.

“I have everything I need.” Ben’s voice is low and gruff squeezing your hand tighter in his as he speaks.

You feel your heartbeat stutter for a second, because Ben had said and done the one thing that you never believed that Soldier Boy ever could. After eighty years, Ben had chosen you just as you’d chosen him the night he asked you to give up everything you knew and dive into the unknown with him. And you felt the last shred of apprehension about him staying in your life crumple up and burn, because you knew that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was going to love you and stay with you for the rest of your life. If you weren’t in this situation you were sure that you would be crying.

“Fine. If you don’t wish to be apart of it, then you’ll burn with the others.” His eyes begin to glow bright red as he prepares to charge Ben and you.

You brace your body for the coming fight, dropping Ben's hand.

Everything slows down. Homelander's feet leave the ground as he starts to fly forward to kill you, the heat from Ben's chest burning the air around you, and the beating of your own heart thunderous in your ears as you feel your eyes shift to red.

But the attack never comes.

A blinding flash of golden-orange light hits Homelander in his left side, there's an unmistakable smell of burning flesh and hair, and Homelander's body is knocked off course through the wall full of monitors. There's a scream somewhere and you turn to see Rosemary, kneeling over Lou's body that lies on the ground.

And you understand. The attack didn’t come from Ben, it came from Lou. Lou who saw Ben use his powers, Lou who had the ability to replicate abilities through sight, and Lou who was so little that you were unsure what something like that would do to her.

"Lou." You gasp racing over to where Rosemary is cradling her little body to her chest.

She looks okay, paler than normal, her breathing is uneven, and you can hear the frantic beat of her little heart, but she does not open her eyes.

"Louisa?" Rosemary says, stroking the back of her head, looking into the face of her daughter, using her full name for the first time in years.

She doesn't move, stays limp in her mother's arms.

No. I can't lose Lou. I've lost so much over the years.

Tears spring to your eyes as you fall to your knees, reaching out to touch her arm. Her skin is so warm it almost burns the palm of your hand, but you don't remove it.

"Lou please. Wake up sweetie." You say, voice thick with emotion.

Lou stays as she is.

Ben's hand comes down on your shoulder and you lean into his leg, shuddering as tears begin to trickle down your cheeks.

Rosemary is beside herself, sobs shaking her shoulders, cradling Lou to her chest. "Please don't leave me." You hear Rosemary whisper.

You suddenly flash back to the day on the beach that you took the bullet for Ben, when your blood turned the sand to mud and Ben held you so tight to his chest that it almost hurt, and you thought you heard him say the same words as you felt yourself began to drift off into nothing.

Ben pulls you up against his chest, tucking your head into the hollow of his throat, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he looks down at his daughter and granddaughter. You shudder into his chest, choking back a sob, arms gripping the front of his suit.

"Mommy?" You hear Lou's little voice murmur.

You pull away from Ben's chest to see where Lou is still lying, her eyes blinking open, but it seems like too much effort.

"Yes sweetie?"

"Can we go home now?" Lou says. "I'm tired."

"Whatever you want honey." Rosemary sighs in relief, hugging Lou closer to her.

"I want grandpa to come with us." She breathes into Rosemary's shirt, wrapping her little arms around her mother's neck. "And grandma and Ryan." Lou says the last too so quietly that you don't think that you heard correctly, but she quickly falls asleep.

"Okay." Rosemary's eyes are closed, and she's petting the back of Lou's back.

You exhale, slowing down your breathing, still holding tight to Ben's supe suit. Ben's eyes aren't on you though, they are focused on the giant hole in the side of the building that Homelander disappeared into.

Homelander comes stumbling through holding his head. His supe suit hangs in burned tatters on his shoulders, but his skin looks unscathed. There's a large lump on the side of his temple, and he squints at Ben and you as if he can't recognize you.

"Hello." Homelander says it hesitantly. "Um. I'm sorry I don't know where I am. Do you live here?"

Holy fucking shit.

"Um." You stutter.

"Do you know who I am?" Homelander continues taking a shaky step towards where you're all standing.

"Dad are you okay?" Ryan asks.

Homelander's blue eyes flick to his son. "I'm your dad?"

Butcher is on Homelander before you can stop him, tackling him to the ground and landing a punch against Homelander's nose.

There's a sickening crunching noise and a high pitched wail from Homelander, as the nose breaks beneath Butcher's fist and blood floods down Homelander's face.

He's human now, but he doesn't know who he is. Your eyes skate across where Homelander lays under Butcher until your eyes catch on the lump on his right temple. He has brain damage from when he landed, he hit his head, doesn't remember any of this, any of us, any of who he is.

And before Butcher can land another blow you grab him by the back of the coat and throw him across the room. He checks himself mid-air and lands in a crouch, his coat billowing out behind him like a cape.

"Just hold on for a minute." You say.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He shouts, fist still covered in blood.

What am I doing? The thought was also going around in your head. You had come here to kill Homelander, to make him pay, but seeing him like this, unable to tell who he was or where he was, made this feel wrong. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it felt evil to kill someone who didn't know the reason why they were going to be executed.

"Don't touch him." You say, standing between Butcher and Homelander. Ben and Rosemary are watching you like you're crazy, but you don't let Butcher get close to Homelander.

"Why did you do that?" Homelander cries, holding his gloved hand to his nose to stop the bleeding. Tears are slipping down his cheeks from the pain.

"Ryan give me your jacket please." You hold out your hand for Ryan's red jacket who is looking at his father in total disbelief. "Here." You give it to Homelander. "Tilt your head back and press this to your face."

He does what you say, but he's still watching you like he doesn't completely trust you.

The feeling is mutual.

"You're kidding right? He's still a psychopathic maniac-" Butcher snarls advancing on you. Ben steps forward to stop him.

"I'm not going to let you kill him in front of his child and it-" You glance back at Homelander. "It's different now. He doesn't know who he is, doesn't know why he's here-"

"You don’t think he's fucking faking?" Ben shouts, glaring back at where Homelander is still standing, and for the first time you see genuine fear on Homelander's face.

I mean he is a good actor, but I don’t think that he's acting.

"I don't think he is."

Ben pinches the bridge of his nose. "Look sweetheart I know that he might be having a little bit of memory loss, but he's still Homelander. And I know that he is technically our son but this isn't like starting over. You can't redeem him this way."

"You're my parents?" Homelander asks looking at Ben and you suddenly confused. "But you're so young?"

You ignore him. "I'm not trying to redeem him and I'm not saying that he doesn't deserve to die or that we shouldn't kill him. I just think that we shouldn't kill him now when he's like this."

Ben narrows his eyes at the man who used to be Homelander. You can see the gears working inside of his head as he mulls over your logic, but you knew it meant that you had a shot of convincing him.

"Ben he's human now, you saw Butcher break his nose. He can't fake that-"

"That doesn't matter he's still the same person!" Ben sighs as if you're annoying him. "The same person that hurt Rosemary, the same person who kidnapped Lou."

"I know he's the same person, but it feels wrong to do this, to execute him for something that he can't remember. It's like killing a little kid."

"Fuck." Ben mutters it more to himself than to you as he tries again to see your logic.

Honestly, it hard to see it yourself. You had killed a few people over the years, didn't feel remorse when it came to the safety of your family, but this was different. Homelander had killed people, threatened, and tortured others but he didn't remember it. You hated that it made you guilty when if anyone deserved to die it was him.

"Fine." Ben holds up a hand. "Fine. We help him jog his memory then we kill him."

"Okay, yes that's all I'm asking." You agree.

"Wait a minute, I'm not going to agree to any of that bullshi-" Butcher begins to say, but the large doors at the back of the room open and a group of people walk in.

You recognize Hughie right off the bat, one girl as Starlight from her livestreams, the man from Herogasm who tried to gas Ben that Butcher identified as MM, but the other two are unfamiliar. One is a supe, her black hair straight and hanging around her face, but the other is a man holding a canister of some kind in his right hand with cropped black hair who smells like how Ben used to when he would shoot up and smoke whatever he could get his hands on in the 70's.

Well this is either going to go badly or go badly.

"Who are they?" Homelander says, his voice nasally from where he's holding the jacket to his face.

"What the fuck happened?" Hughie asks, looking around the room at the destruction.

"Well-" Butcher begins to say.

"I turned him human with whatever the fuck is in my chest. You're welcome." Ben lies.

You swallow the lump in the back of your throat. The last thing you wanted was for them to know what Lou was capable of. Rosemary is standing now behind you, holding Lou in her arms who sleeps quietly, curled into her mother.

"But how did you-" Starlight asks.

"I held him down telekinetically." You shrug. "Wasn't that hard."

"Huh." She frowns. "But you didn't kill him?"

"He hit his head." Butcher explains coming to stand beside you. "Can't remember a bloody thing."

"And you believe that?" MM sputters. His eyes haven't left Ben and you know exactly what he's thinking about, the night his grandfather died.

"She does." Butcher nods his head in your direction. "And she doesn't want to kill him if he can't remember why he's a fucking cunt."

MM's eyes flick to you. "Who are you?"

"You're Indigo right? The supe from the 80's who vanished?" Starlight asks.

"Mhmm." You hoped that they weren't here to fight you, but the shiny silver cannister in the shorter man's hand says otherwise. "But all of that doesn't matter now. It was a long time ago. The only thing that matters here is that Homelander is human and that no one died."

Her eyes flick to the ball of flesh in the corner that was Noir then back at you. "No one?"

"No one who didn't deserve it." Ben clarifies gruffly.

You could feel the tension in the air between the group of people standing in front of you. Ben was mirroring your protective stance in front of Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan. You weren't sure what was going to happen, but you didn't want to put them in the line of fire.

"We don't want any trouble, we're just going to take Homelander and leave." You say diplomatically.

"Who's Homelander?" Homelander says still obviously confused. "Is that me?"

Everyone ignores him.

"Wait where are you going to take him?" Hughie asks.

"I have a friend. She knows how to handle supes. She'll find a place for him." Your gaze flicks to the other female supe who hasn't said anything since she walked into the room. You didn't like that you didn't know what her powers are and did not know what to expect if she chose to fight you.

You also hadn't spoken to your would-be friend in over forty years, but you figured that she still was able to pull the same strings she had done in the past for you.

"A friend?" Butcher sounds skeptical.

"Yeah. So if you wouldn't mind letting us through-" You take a step forward preparing to push through the group of people.

MM pulls his gun. "We can't let you do that."

"Why?"

"Well for one Soldier Boy is a terrorist. He's killed people." Starlight's eyes narrow when she looks at Ben. "He's a nuclear bomb with a short fuse, who knows who else will get hurt. Not to mention he's murdered people."

"The only people I murdered are the people from our old team, everyone else was an accident." Ben replies gruffly, looking down the barrel of the gun, unfazed.

"Doesn't matter. It's still murder." The man with the gun states, his eyes narrowing at Ben.

This is not going to go well.

You sigh. You didn't want to kill them, but it was quickly becoming apparent that they weren't going to back down.

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way." The other man says in a faintly French accent, the dark haired supe beside him tensing as if preparing to spring.

"And you don't want to fight us." MM narrows his eyes at you.

Ben chuckles under his breath. "Trust me kid, it won't be much of a fight."

He's really not helping his case.

"Oh really?" Starlight's eyes begin to glow a dangerous gold, challenging you to get in her way.

You snort before you can stop yourself. "Your eyes glow, that's cute." You smirk at her, feeling yours shift to bright purple. "Mine do too."

"Annie wait." Hughie says, placing his hand on her arm. "Just let her talk for a minute."

"Really? You want me to listen to this psychopath? You see what she did to Noir-" Starlight, now Annie, gestures back to the blood stained wall and what's left of your old friend.

"If it's any of your business, you would know that he deserved it. And he started it." You say simply. "But it’s not."

"So what? You're telling us to just let you take Homelander?" She spits, eyes still glowing. "And let you leave with Soldier Boy?"

"You really think you can stop us?" Ben takes a step towards Annie, but you hold up your arm to stop him.

"I've honestly had a really bad week and we don't want to fight." You emphasize. "But we will if we have to. And trust me you really don't want that to happen."

"Then come willingly." MM says without lowering his gun.

"You know we can't do that. The last thing I’m going to do is let you lock Soldier Boy up again in some fucking lab. He's been in there long enough.” You reply.

"I'm not going to let you walk away with a ticking time bomb. He's killed people." Annie looks at where Ben is standing slightly to your left.

Like hell you're gonna take him and lock him in a cage.

"He's in control now. And I'll keep him in check."

"You expect us to trust you?" She scoffs. "You, who also have killed who knows how many people over the years."

"Could be worse." You shrug. "But the truth is none of you can stop us, sure maybe you can slow us down for a few minutes, but it won't end well for any of you. And I'd rather not kill any more people today in front of my grandchildren." You raise an eyebrow.

Annie's eyes shift back to where Rosemary is watching her warily, still cuddling Lou to her chest, and you can feel Starlight hesitate for just a second.

"Look Annie, can I call you Annie?" You let your eyes return to their natural color and wave your hand in what you think might be a friendly gesture, but your patience was wearing thin.

"No."

"Annie." You clear your throat. "The things I've done, I've done for my family. I think that maybe you can sympathize with that a little bit. And Soldier Boy well-" You glance at Ben, who is still staring down the barrel of the pistol with a stoic expression. Honestly you knew he was waiting for you to say the word to take down the group of people in front of you. "He's trying to be better and I'm going to help him, but I can't let you put him in a prison cell somewhere or in a cage or a lab."

“I can’t just let you disappear with him.” Starlight’s gaze is firm, unyielding.

You were willing to kill her if that’s what it took, but honestly you were exhausted. Emotionally. Not to mention you didn’t want to have to use the one favor you had but you were going to have to, to make your friend deal with Homelander. You hated owing her favors, they never ended well.

“We won’t disappear.”

“Why should I believe that?”

"You don't have to, but I don’t owe you anything Annie. No explanations, no nothing. Please just be thankful that this is all there is." You look at the faces of the people around her and stop on Hughie, before shifting back to her. "Do you want their blood on your hands? Because I don't. So please let us go and I promise that we won't be a problem."

"You're so sure that it's going to go your way. That you're going to kill all of us. You might be a supe but you don't know that you're going to-" MM begins to say and you finally snap.

Your eyes shift back to bright purple, energy pulsing out from your body as you unlock the anger, rage, betrayal, and hurt you felt the night you almost destroyed Legend's backyard. The bodies of the people standing in front of you lock up as your powers take control, weaving across their limbs, and shrouding them in the warm purple glow from your abilities, forcing them to their knees with their hands behind their backs. The only one you didn’t do this to was Hughie who is looking at you like you're some kind of monster.

And maybe the old you would have thought that too, but the new you wasn't phased.

Annie's body is glowing now, trying to fight the compulsion of your telekinetic abilities, but you know that she can't break it.

"That's how she knows." Ben says with a smirk. You can almost hear pride in his voice.

"Please let them go." Hughie asks you.

"I will. But first we're going to leave. Rosemary, you, Lou, and Ryan go first."

She walks around the people with Ryan in tow who looks back at Butcher for a moment, before he vanishes through the doors. "Ben take Homelander."

"Like fuck I'm going to leave you-" You turn your glowing eyes on him.

"I will be right behind you, now go."

Ben grits his teeth together, waiting another minute, but finally grabs Homelander around the arm and tugs him from the room glaring at you the whole time and muttering something under his breath.

You glance at MM. "I'm sorry for your loss, I am. I know that nothing can make up for what he did and I know that none of you want to believe me when I say this but, he's changed and he's trying to be better." You sigh. "I didn't want it to be like this."

"Wait you're not going to-" Hughie's eyes are wide and you feel Butcher take a step towards you as if he's going to stop you.

"No. Y'all don't deserve that. And I like to think that I'm still a good person. But-" You let out a breath. "I swear on my life that we won't disappear. I swear that I will do my upmost to help him and make sure that no one else gets hurt. And I'm sorry that it turned into this, but I hope that you believe me." Your expression hardens. "Because the next time you come and threaten my family or me again, I won't be forgiving and you won't walk away."

You drop the hold you have on their bodies when you make it to the elevator where your family and Homelander waits for you and you hope that they've chosen not to follow.

"So, what do I owe you for this one?" You ask Grace Mallory, as you stand on the dirt road, surveying the Upstate New York countryside. The fields on either side of the roads were filled with waist high grass that rustled in the wind blowing from the East, wicking the sweat on the back of your neck.

The sun was rising on the horizon and it had taken most of the night to get out of the city to meet her there. It had been a long drive, but the car you'd stolen was working, for now. Rosemary, Lou, and Ryan, were asleep in the back seat and Ben were standing at your side. When Mallory had received your call she didn't sound surprised. You knew that she probably figured you would need her especially with the revelation of Soldier Boy's reappearance. She knew that you had unfinished business with him and that he'd try to find you.

She looks different than she did the last time you saw her years ago. Her hair is now more gray than blonde, pulling free from the severe bun at the back of her head. Her dark colored suit is sharp, pristene, and freshly ironed.

You'd met her in the weeks that followed Ben's supposed death, when Legend and you were planning your disappearance. You didn't know why she helped you make a fake ID and smuggle you out of the city, but she had. The favor you owed her had been collected when Rosemary went off to college, a little supe problem that Mallory's team couldn't handle. Off the books of course. You hadn’t been recognizable and you knew that no one would be able to find you.

"I'll send you my bill." Her smile is tight-lipped, but it's still there. You knew she hated supes, and sometimes you think that she tried to hate you, but you were too much alike.

"The same I'm guessing."

"Maybe." She shrugs watching the other officers escort Homelander into the vehicle.

His nose didn't look much better, it was swollen and purple because no one had set it, and he was wearing a pair of gym shorts and an oversized t-shirt that said "Ask Me About My Cats" on it. It was all you could find at the gas station Ben had stopped at in the middle of nowhere. Technically all of you had to change, especially Rosemary who's clothes were still riddled with holes and with blood splatter. You had a few splashes of blood from Noir, but not nearly as much as her. You knew that the two of you would talk about what happened to her soon, but not right now.

A bird soars overhead and joins another on the power lines hanging above the street, squawking as it settles down.

"Figures. Can't we just call this a favor for an old friend?"

"I guess I should be thanking you. Taking down Homelander, that's pretty impressive. Can't believe Butcher let you walk away with him like that." Mallory says, pressing her lips into a tight line.

Her eyes flick to where Ben is standing beside you. He hadn't said much since he pulled up, still trying to take in everything that had happened last night. You knew she wasn't ecstatic about seeing him again, the last time she saw him she'd told you about after you'd helped her out with her little supe problem and she'd asked you to join her for a beer. You didn't drink it, but you'd sat with her anyway.

When she'd gotten out of the car as you pulled up you'd heard him mutter "is that captain lesbo?" under his breath and it was the first time you'd genuinely laughed since everything happened at Vought tower.

Honestly, you felt kinda heavy on your feet. The stale gas station coffee had done little to boost your energy level and neither had the protein bar that Ben forced you to eat because he said you needed to eat something.

I better get a long vacation after this.

"He wasn't on board, but I convinced him. His team also took some convincing." You frown remembering exactly what you'd had to do to let you walk away, but you didn't feel bad about it. You knew that it was the way things had to be to keep your family safe. "You're not going to tell him about this are you?"

"Maybe. Not for a while though. I'll give him some time to cool down, have a cup of tea, let things settle." Mallory taps a text message on her phone. "It definitely changes things though."

"What does?"

"A cure for being a supe." She eyes Ben for a second. "Word gets out that's not going to be good."

"Believe me I know." You sigh.

You were trying not to think about the revelation of Lou's powers. You hadn't told Mallory that Lou was the one that took down Homelander, nor would you ever. You'd take that to your grave and if Butcher knew what was good for him so would he. You'd destroyed all video evidence on your way out of the Tower, but you were still afraid that someone, somewhere knew something that they shouldn't. Lou had woken up for a little bit on the drive and seemed more like herself after she drank some chocolate milk and ate some dry cereal, than she had when she used her powers earlier.

She just needs to get used to it. We all went through that when we got our powers. But things are never going to be the same though.

Ben nudges your arm with his shoulder as if he's trying to reassure you that he's there and you're not going through this alone. When you glance up at him, you see the corner of his lips twitch into a smile for just a half-second before going back to his stoic expression.

They really aren't going to be the same.

"Don't worry. I'll try to keep it on the down low as long as I can." She shrugs.

Homelander waves once at Ben and you as he is placed into the black Tahoe. The entire trip upstate he had tried to ask more and more questions while Ben drove, but you didn't want to answer him, didn't want to form a bond with him, not when he was acting completely different. You didn't want to get attached, because one day when he remembered who he was and what he had done you were going to kill him.

Ryan hadn't tried to answer his father's questions. You honestly were surprised that he had come with you willingly, he didn't know any of you, but he didn't complain. Plus you'd bought him a pack of state capitals and abbreviations flashcards at the gas station and he'd busied himself with running through the flashcards as fast as he could.

"Do you think he's really forgotten?" Mallory asks you.

"I don't know." You reply honestly. "I think so. But he was backed into a corner, and this may have been his only way out. He didn't like that we weren't accepting him."

"Hmm." Mallory exhales out a breath. "Just makes all of this more difficult I guess."

"It's always difficult." You sigh just as heavily.

"Yeah. Seems like it."

"At least the fucker doesn’t have any powers." Ben adds. "What are you going to do with him anyway?"

"Lock him up, see if they can jog his memory." Mallory examines Homelander as he looks through the darkened windows of the Tahoe at the three of you, still smiling. "I'll let you know if it comes back."

"Thank you Grace."

"Sure. You owe me though."

"I know." You pull absentmindedly on the end of the bright pink shirt that you had to change in to at the gas station, because your other one had Noir's blood on it. "Try to give me a little time first okay?"

"Of course." She reaches out to shake your hand and then shakes Ben's. Mallory turns to walk towards her car, before she stops and turns around. "What about Ryan? You want me to take him off your hands too?"

Ben glances back at the car where Ryan is fast asleep, his head leaning against the window, hair fanning out against the glass. "No. I think he'd be better with us."

"With Homelander the way he is, Ryan should be safe now." You look back at Grace. "Rosemary has an extra bedroom in her apartment, she can take him."

"You sure your cousin can handle a supe with his kind of powers?" Mallory raises an eyebrow referring to Rosemary as your cousin as she always does. Though you believed she knew better and just never said anything.

"Yeah. I think she's got it. Plus Ben and I live in the city too. I have an extra room in my apartment, but I just need to clean it out before he can stay with us. Ryan will be safe and maybe he'll be able to have a normal life." The thought was comforting. You didn't know too much about Ryan's background, but thought that maybe he would benefit from having a normal schedule in his life and have a normal life away from being a supe. Of course you were already thinking about ways Butcher could be in his life. It was obvious how much Butcher cared about him and how much Ryan looked up to Butcher.

You were going to call him when you got back into the city. You also supposed that you could have told him about Mallory, but when you and Mallory started working together you had both decided to keep it to yourself, saw that it was better this way.

"Alright." Mallory turns back to walk towards the car. "See you in ten years." She jokes.

When the car pulls away and drives down the street, Homelander waves at Ben and you again as you stand there leaning against the hood of the SUV you stole to get out of the city. It was easy to steal cars when all you needed to do was telekinetically turn it on.

"You didn't tell me you knew Captain Lesbo." Ben says.

"Don't call her that." You snort. "I owe a lot to her, she helped me get away from Vought."

"Why?"

"No idea." You lean your head against Ben's shoulder, listening to the cawing of the birds and feeling the wind pull and tug at your hair as if trying to ask you to play. It was a nice day, warm, but not too hot.

"Tired?"

"Mhmm."

Ben presses a kiss to the top of your head, holding you closer to him for a few precious seconds, his arm squeezing around your shoulders. "Come on Sweetheart. Let's go home." He murmurs into the top of your head.

"Home?" You murmur looking up into his green eyes, cupping his bearded cheek.

Ben's eyes are bright in the sunshine, the same color they were the day you painted him at the park all those years ago with paint splattered fingers and skirts. But it doesn't feel like any time has passed. It still feels like him and you walking the streets of Philadelphia together with warm pretzels, him crawling through your window to escape the rest of the world, him and you soaking up the sunshine along the bank of a pond, him and you drinking sour beer in a bar and singing all the way home, him and you dancing in a ballroom with the lights twinkling above, and him and you and falling asleep in the same bed bodies entwined. He's still your Ben even after all these years. You knew every smile line, every frown line, every freckle, every dimple, every dip and curve of his handsome face. His arm is still heavy around your shoulders, comforting and familiar.

"I'm already there Ben."

Ben brings his hand up to hold your cheek, the rough pad of his thumb tracing along the curve of your cheekbone. You were more beautiful than he remembered, leaving him breathless each time you smiled at him. His eyes trace the frown lines, the smile lines, the scrunch between your eyebrows, the smile on your face, and down to the parts of you that you believe are imperfections. Someone so familiar to him that he was sure he would never forget, and yet looking at you always felt like the first time, like he was a drowning man and you were the first breath of fresh air. He still saw the pieces of you he knew growing up, the girl whose hair caught fire in the sun when you painted him by a pond that was probably dry and gone, the girl who smiled at him every time he crawled through her window to escape the rest of the world, the girl who refused to let him be alone, the girl who protected him and defended him, the girl who saw all the parts of him he tried to hide from the world, and the girl who made him feel loved for the first time in his life. "Good, because I'm not going anywhere sweetheart, for as long as I live, I promise to be here."

"I'll hold you to that Benjamin."

"Forever?"

"Forever."

A/N: Whew! Big chapter. Lots to take in I know!! But also really fun last moments that I just loved writing. I'm not gonna lie I was tearing up a little bit in that final scene. These characters have just meant so much to me to write. There is one more chapter coming! I know this one kinda felt a little bit like a wrap up, but the Epilogue is coming next. Stay tuned!

As always, thank you so much for reading and for all the love and support! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know! I know that there's only one chapter of the series left, but I will transfer it to the One-shot fics I have planned for them. 😊

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[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

The Stag and the Young Wolf

Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 14k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, unethical medical practices, mention of disturbing imagery, past character deaths, talk of pregnancy, child death, mild smut

Notes: This is a rewrite of some deleted scenes back during Robb's era in the story, I had a lot of fun writing these two again so I hope you enjoy! Associated Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Harrenhal had been cursed since it’s first stone was laid. Or, that at least was what some spoke of it. More then enough rumours were spread of the ruined castle and it’s lands. No lord or family had ever been able to hold the great castle for more then a few generations before tragedy would befall them. And that went back right to it’s very start.

The castle greater then the very lands most lords held in their entirety, and yet most of it laid unused. Great walls which stood so high that some bridges between the high towers would kill a man without a doubt between falls. But only the lower two thirds were used. It was all that could be afforded by any. The higher the towers sat in the sky, the less usable they were even moreso with the bats adorning them. By now the centuries passed, stories spoke of men seeing masses of black within the halls like a dark figure following them, but when searched further were just bats in so many numbers they looked as one creature.

But it was not just bats making it unlivable. Each hall and corridor and room was surrounded by ruin and decay. Stones never rebuilt or restructured, water dripping from every corner exposed to the air as if the rain which would come could drown out the remaining rooms. The main hall in it’s peak had something near thirty five hearths to keep the castle warm, and now all that remained were fires in each rooms used when it still wouldn’t be much. It was clear why those who even held Harrenhal seldom chose to live within it’s walls.

Yet, the worst of it all was why. The strongest towers and the highest walls, a million men could have marched on the castle and a million men would’ve been repelled. But there was one thing it’s cruel yet brilliant creator Harren the Black did not account for. An attack from the air, a burning of dragonfire. It was said the day it was complete, did Aegon the Conquerer fly over the castle and let Balerion the Dread melt the stone walls within a few mere hours.

Some claimed that it was the burning from the dragon which left it cursed, but you thought there must have been more to it then that alone.

Right along the edges of the castle sat the Gods Eye. A vast lake that in and of itself held memories of death. A mighty battle between kin was fought above the waters, the strong yet terrifying Daemon Targaryean had done the unthinkable. In exchange for the life of he and his dragon, had slain the mighty Aemond the Kinslayer, and took the dragon Vhagar with him. The Valyrian Steel sword of Dark Sister had been found decades later in the waters still shoved deep into the kinslayers eye along with the bones of he and his dragon.

Yet still, that was not the strangest part. The Gods Eye itself was the largest lake in Westeros, but sat right in the middle was a small patch of land. A land with so little known about it, it had become as mysterious as the curses of Harrenhal itself. The Isle of Faces was the last known location outside of the North were Weirwood trees still stood beyond some single trees in a castle’s godswood, and even then so few existed still. Named for the faces carved into them much like ones you knew existed like the heart tree in the Winterfell Godswood. Harrenhal too had it’s own immense godswood and a heart tree, but it paled in comparison to what wonders sat across the lake.

Thousands of years ago, it was said the First Men had met with the Children of the Forest to agree to a peace after centuries of fighting. What agreement was made, none knew, as the First Men seemed to leave no trace of any scrolls, books, or written language behind. Some stories spoke that the Children had used the power there to break the Arm of Dorne, preventing any men to travel to their lands further. Creating what the realm knew now as the Stepstones. A useless patch of rock and rubble squabbled over by pirates these days. Were that true, few knew. Maesters said that storms had broken apart the land and nothing more.

Many had tried over the years to reach such a place, but to no avail. The closer one got to the isle, it was said flocks of ravens drove them off, or were forced away by sudden and powerful windstorms. Those who survived such attempts would sometimes say they saw figures that looked like green men at the shores, but fewer then none seemed to believe them. A mysterious land surrounded by bright blue water and black swans adorning the shores it was a place that sparked the imaginations of many.

Events haunted the memories of this place over the years and yet as you now walked through it’s halls you felt little of it matter. The oddities of Harrenhal tried to seep into your mind and yet you heard and felt none of it.

Olyvar Frey, Robb’s young squire the poor lad was trying so hard to serve you well. But each time it seemed he spoke to you alone it left him more weary then the last, always delivering news you’d rather not hear. This time, a raven scroll. You had enough news for the day.

Two rounds of news came first, word from Riverrun from Edmure Tully to Catelyn. Their father Lord Hoster Tully, a man ill for many years had finally passed. But the ravens carried more news. From the North. Roose Bolton’s bastard had reached Winterfell and found it abandoned, in ruin, and with no sign of Bran or Rickon. Only rumours of bodies of burned boys that some straggling locals claimed were the poor two themselves. With no word of Theons whereabouts, or any terms sent, it was not likely that Bran and Rickon were taken back to the Iron Islands as hostages.

The most likely scenario, is that those bodies of burned boys were them. No matter what yourself and Robb had tried telling Catelyn. Little could console her by now. Most of her children were gone. Her two youngest most likely dead, Arya was most likely dead, and Sansa was still in the hands of Joffery and the Queen. Only Robb remained to her, and now the world took her father too.

You hadn’t known what to say, or even how to feel. Your own mind was cluttered and clouded and there was little that could be said to make any of it right anyways, perhaps you didn’t know how to try.

Instead, you were sought out by Olyvar and handed a raven scroll of your own. In an instant something felt wrong. The sigil was nothing you’d expect. A black sail boat with an onion as it’s banner. Your eyes glanced up to the boy narrowed and on edge, him taking a moment to make his leave. “My Queen.”

Your eyes followed the entire path before looking around you. Men were everywhere, but it would take no time to find solace here. Tucking it away, your feet begun to carry you into the barley warmer indoors until you found an alcove tucked away, of which there were countless. Back pressed against the stone, ignoring the drips of water heard falling down towards your feet and the muffled voices all around you you pulled it back out.

Unfolding it’s contents, you too recognized the writing and your eyes jumped down to the end right away seeing the name etched at the bottom. Marya Seaworth still struggled to sign her name as such, her tendencies to only use her first with those she knew. But, you realized that perhaps she wasn’t writing to you as a lady, but a woman whom knew you well, and knew you needed to know.

It was not the first time members of House Seaworth had gone behind Stannis Baratheons back to send you word of what was happening. Allard did it first. Her and Ser Davos’s eldest son. He had been part of the household guard for the Baratheons of Dragonstone, and when you were very young only three or four, he was assigned personally to watch over you.

From girl to woman you had Allard commonly at your side, and some days he felt down south like your only companion that did not speak to you with ulterior motives. He would write to you at first, and it was him who told you of what your father was doing with the Lady Melisandre. The red woman he said the men had come to call her behind her back. That it was your mother she had convinced first, and none found out until he travelled back to Dragonstone with your father after Lord Arryn’s sudden passing.

But then Renly died, and you stopped hearing word. You didn’t question why, or you didn’t want to know, but this was the first you heard from any since then. Marya was a sweet woman, too sweet to be involved writing you such things. Too sweet to be feeling the heartbreak you now knew Catelyn was also feeling. A mother having lost a son.

Marya wrote to you about what happened in the battle. That Tyrion Lannister had set the Blackwater on fire. A sea of green fire and it, like the dragon fire against the walls of Harrenhal, had melted ships and burned the men in them, alive. And that amongst them, was Matthos Seaworth. Her and Davos second eldest son, and once a friend to you.

A few years older then yourself, he was a scribe for your father and had yearnings to be a knight. Allard spoke that he had bought into this red god without any doubt, and you chilled to think he died thinking fire was the way he was supposed to go. Marya spoke that there was no word that her husband was alive, but she knew men who would’ve told her and they had yet to report such grim news. She had hope Ser Davos was still out there, but where, only the gods knew. But Matthos was dead, no body to even bury, and way of knowing what state her husband was in.

The raven told more though, details Marya herself claimed she didn’t think she should be telling you, but she did anyways, you had never proven to be a traitor for simply standing by your own husband she said. If it came down to it, she’d choose hers over any King any day as well, and she wouldn’t treat you different. That’s how you put together what happened.

Reading over the words, you felt a twist in your gut, and one that didn’t belong to the babe you were still able to hide. Despite such a devastating loss, Stannis had pushed onto the Mud Gate at Kings Landing and nearly got in. That was, until the night was overpowered by the forces of Tywin Lannister, with the strength of the remaining Tyrell army at his back.

You knew Ser Loras, you knew him rather well and didn’t wish to feel ill of his choice or why he made it, but he had gone from Renly’s foolish side, to the side of the enemy all were fighting against. Together, Lannister and Tyrell had pushed back the Baratheons to the sea once more and victory was found for the Lions and the Roses wrapped around them.

Tywin now sat in Kings Landing as Hand of the King, his son set your fathers forces on fire and Matthos included. You felt your jaw tensing along with that feeling inside of you. Eyes dark as they tore themselves up from the raven to the stone on the ground as your hands tensed. Wanting to tear it the way Cersei had Robert’s last words in the Throne Room.

Instead, you steadied yourself. You were better then that, for now. Hiding it away once more, you inhaled deeply as your head turned side to side making sure no one was watching you. A hand running over your face trying to peel off the layer which showed how much was on your mind and truthfully, little was replaced with it. All the news, and this was the most relevant to the war you all fought and yet no one you could confide in felt right to go to.

Robb had more then enough on his shoulders then needing this right now, and the Blackfish had a brother to start grieving for on top of it. But you couldn’t hold it all in, someone needed to grasp what you were putting together. It would cause conflict, what your mind was asserting and it needed to be handled delicately so it did not come out in ill before Robb himself could handle this. Finding your feet, you begun moving through the halls, needing to quietly search out the only counsel you felt would truly listen and understand what you were implying.

Only, you did know one you could hear an answer from what may have occurred. Robb didn’t need to handle this, his grandfather, Bran, Rickon, you wouldn’t steal or force his focus from them, so you took that spot. Searching through what felt like the caverns each looking more grim then the last, as long as you were deeper within and couldn’t look up and see the broken skies you could have tricked yourself into thinking this looked not unlike Dragonstone.

The stone made of black, the vast grand nature of it as if meant to awe as much as it was to make a statement, and it was dour and grey and uninviting no matter where you went. And too, even without the statues and books and decor to remind you, Harrenhal was loomed over by the shadow of a dragon all the same. To what ends, you asked the gods keep that to themselves. You had seen the skulls, that was all of dragons you needed.

Walking down the steps, you nearly thought you may have had to bring a torch along with you the more into the depths you travelled to get to the destination how dark it got with how unkempt so many halls of this place were . Some of the men insisted he could be brought to you, but you rejected the thought. Something about this place made you feel as if you needed to wander. Still recovering from his wounds, you approached the strange man.

Found in the main court which you entered through days before, the men had found someone still alive. Not a soldier of any sorts, but what seemed to be a prisoner when the Lannisters had been capturing people around the Riverlands for information. None of which it seemed helped Tywin get any closer to Robb. How he was planning to beat him on the battlefield now you had no idea.

Being led to the area which the man, a strange sort of man by the name of Qyburn, was recovering, you glanced behind only to signify that you wished to speak to the man alone. “Your grace,” Moving to at least bow no doubt, you held a hand out. Gesturing him to remain seated, commenting there was no need when he should be resting. A chuckle came from him with a wince coming up from his chest. “I’m afraid it is long passed that, with a knife to the throat one becomes beyond comfort.”

Walking somewhat around the small area serving him as a room, you glanced down to his attire and the back up. Almost an expecting look in his eyes. He was a small man, looked on the weak side likely put up not a single fight but somehow survived. Those eyes though, a bit unnerving. As if they were always watching. “The robes, but no chain. I thought all Maesters wore something of a chain they earn.”

“I was one. Once, your grace.” Your brows narrowed, face twisting down into a confusion as he seemed unperturbed with explaining himself further. “I was stripped of my chain, and expelled from the citadel some time ago.” Your voice was short in asking why, but he seemed uncaring of your more stern nature. “They considered my experiments to be on the bold side, and they did not appreciate the findings which came with that.”

He was being purposely vague, which you did not quite appreciate. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a man being thrown out of the order before. They must have been quite the experiments to garner that reaction.” Why you even asked, was mostly for courtesy. He seemed a man more comfortable in his situation then most, and perhaps he would be more open with you if you asked open questions first. “Would that be a story you’re willing to share?”

The look was bright in his eyes, as if recollecting better times despite what would come from his mouth about them. “I would. Being thrown out was a regretful consequence, but I am not shamed of the learning I have found conducting them. I always found myself interested in disease. Curiosity always was my weakness. The need to learn all about it in order to treat it. And the only way to treat disease, is to understand disease. And the best way to understand disease, is to study the afflicted.”

“Study?”

Nodding, your face fell, the feeling in your gut growing more ill but this time with a new wave at the implication you both knew you had come too. “Men who were already dying, who would serve the realm far better allowing me to gain insights on their condition then dying from it and changing nothing.”

Your voice rather flat, arms resting across your chest as you moved little. “I imagine the world will rejoice in their names when you surely give them credit for cutting them open and watching that happens to their insides.” Asking not with a genuine wonder but almost as if humouring you as you were him, if you disapproved. “Do I disapprove of you experimenting on living men to understand what was killing them? Yes, I can say I disapprove of that with some conviction.”

His head leaning back the slightest, he found another route of question as if examining you before his eyes with only your words and expression. “Tell me, my Queen, how many have you killed? Five? Ten? A dozen?”

Your eyes slipped to the side, both of you knew the answer was more complicated then that. Certainly now. Only years ago could you say that number was zero. It was even further away from zero, you had never gotten into such a physical confrontation so seriously before. But the day Lannister men surrounded yourself, Lord Stark and Jory Cassel, that number only increased to one, but it only takes that first to change everything. In near the same instance did Jaime Lannister himself shove a dagger through Jory’s eye, did you make eye contact with him, your own shoved through the neck of his own guard. The blood more prominent on you then it even was him, and he was the greatest swordsmen, or one of them. Then you fought at Whispering Wood, and that number lost count. So you were honest. “I lost track of that along time ago.”

A hum came from his throat as you looked at you, possibly seeing an image of the Lady Baratheon the realm had heard of most your life and finding an image not at all matching. “A rare thing for a woman. Not only to be one to take a life but so many at that.” You made no comment, the weight carried with you all the same no matter the sex. “And how many lives have you saved?”

That came quick. Quicker then he was expecting. “None.” Yet just as fast you changed gears on him, “What can you tell me of the confrontation we came in on the other day? What happened here?” Claiming his knowledge was limited, you cut him off before he could finish. “Limited is better then none.”

Trying to find someone in this castle was a nightmare.

Corridor to courtyard it was endless. As if plucked in the middle of Flea Bottom and told to find one man, even with so much of the castle out of any sort of use. Your patience wearing thin by the time you spotted him locked in a conversation with one which would destroy the rest of that patience. The voice speaking to him falling on somewhat deaf ears as Lord Karstark found your person and a struggle to pretend he had decorum still underneath the anger. “I have my best men on it, if he is out there, we’ll find him.”

Eyes still locked onto you as he responded, “Aye, but what then? We give him a scolding?” His companion turning to see where his attention went and found you. One of them at the least still understood what respect was on some level, a small nod in place of a bow as you approached.

Skipping right to your point, today of all days you did not wish to entertain the anger of the Karstarks. “My lord, if you could give us a moment to speak. Alone.” A glance shared between them before he begun to walk with a grumble just under his breath, only for you to catch the glaring eyes of Harald Karstark, his now only living son left being sent your way before following his father.

If you weren’t mistaken, you’d have thought you were the one who wrapped your chains around Torrhen Karstark’s neck yourself, the way you were being glared at. But, you would take it over any of that ire being sent Robb or Catelyns way in the middle of this such fresh patch of grief.

Left with only one, Roose Bolton gave you his full attention with no hangups to stand behind him at the very least. “Northerners can be as stubborn as our winters, your grace. It will take time for those wounds to heal.” Nodding, your eyes watched the path the men left towards now out of sight before looking back, a curious expression on his face. “But I presume that isn’t why you’ve sought me out this afternoon.”

“No.” Your eyes purposely glancing around to the grim outsides of the sight, most of the dead taken care of which were left out, but the lingering scent of death was never so easily washed out. “What happened here was not at Robb’s command.” Rumbling in a low agreement, already did he begun trying to connect where your own thoughts were. Grateful that as intimidating of a man he was, Roose Bolton was smart and trusting in the world of battle. Quickly rising in the ranks between yourself and Robb as someone whose counsel you both not only trusted but would seek out. Now feeling no different, if not just for the tenseness on him which you could easily attribute the general feeling around all the men presently.

Speaking only enough for the two of you to hear, “If you are asking my thoughts on the matter, I would have to guess that one of the River Lords became a little too over eager, and tried to take on the Mountain and his men themselves. To what ends though, I’m not sure.”

You didn’t confirm the information which Qyburn told you, not to Lord Bolton, but you did have enough to know your worries were indeed, the right ones. “I do.” His brows raised as his face twisted in curiosity, but yours remained stern and rigid as something was holding you back from near speaking through gritted teeth. “Five dead Lannister men for every one of ours, but nowhere along the way did we see any sign of them. Whoever did this, attacked the Mountain and won, and sent them running.” Asking where, your answer lead to a narrowing in his eyes that you both understood. “South.”

More details were skipped, mostly this time such personal ones relayed about the ones you knew in what felt like another life. But what you spoke gave Roose Bolton enough to catch up and his assessment matched your own, as you both could tell you were on the same understanding. “If you mean to tell me you suspect these two events are related, I would have to agree with you. Driving the Mountains forces out of the west would give him enough time to join with Tywin Lannister.”

Finishing for him with a more flat knowing. “Which would give him more forces then Stannis Baratheons, to drive him out of Kings Landing before he could take it.” Your jaw clenched, hands behind your gloves tensing as if to try and dig through the leather and sink your nails painfully into your palms. “My fathers army outnumbered them five to one, even if the Tyrells at his side that wouldn’t have been enough if everything had gone according to Robbs plan.”

Smart man as he was, picking up on how easily you deferred your own part in the plan to Robb alone, and how for everything you were you were so easily willing to give credit to your King instead of demanding the equal share. Sometimes still did you manage to suprise the Northern Lords no matter how close they thought they were getting to knowing you. “I presume you have an idea whom was responsible for this?” You nodded once and quick he was to catch that you were not sharing. If you were right, this for Robb would be far more of a family matter. One which you were not going to throw onto the coals for all to see, Robb could decide for himself how to handle his uncle when the time came, if you were right.

“If I may ask, your grace, of you suspected all of this already, why come to me first and not the King?”

Your expression fell, if not softened the slightest. It was known by this point what rolling news came one after the other that morning for the Starks and Tullys in one blow. Arms crossing more over your front, hands tightening again as if to channel that energy into where you wish you felt a sting instead of whatever conflict sat in your chest. “I needed to know I was right before I brought it to him. He has enough to handle right now without having to put all this together on top of it.”

You both knew what it was you meant in specifics. Roose Bolton had been a great help at Robbs side the entire time from the moment news was sent your way. Ravens had come from White Harbour, Barrowton and the Dreadfort of what Theon had done. What all the Greyjoys had done and were containing to do and it was all a mess.

Theon had raided Torrhen's Square before moving onto Winterfell. Balons own daughter Yara held men at Deepwood Motte, and beyond GreyWater Watch was where Victarion Greyjoy held Moat Cailin. Other pockets of Ironborn were scattered around, but without much organization. It was the Greyjoys themselves holding this together, but it was Theons which was the worst.

A betrayal you felt hurt deeper then you thought, turning swiftly to such an anger that he had done this, that you and Robb had not even hesitated to proclaim he’d die for this. Robb meant it then, you had meant it then, and certainly you both did now. Bran and Rickon. One boy crippled, the other only seven or eight and their blood was now on the hands of someone they knew from the day they were born. You could only imagine how confused they were by it, why Theon had done this.

Did they think the same thought you did? Did Theon secretly hate you all the whole time?

Almost being snapped back into the moment, Roose Boltons voice hit you once more as if forgetting where you even were. “If my bastard had been able to get there faster-”

Shaking your head, you let out a deep sigh. Eyes closing only as long as it took for the breath to leave your lungs in a large chunk. “Word hadn’t gotten in or out of Winterfell for months. There would be no reason to kill all the ravens unless he had something to hide. Meaning he was hiding this for a long time. Longer then your son would’ve had to try and prevent it.” A small appreciation could be somewhat found on his face. “No matter what he found when he got there, give your son my thanks. Robb and myself, both. He tried, and that’s all we can ask for with what we didn’t know.”

Almost to part ways, Roose called out just as you turned. Your body pivoting halfway back, “Is there nothing else on your mind?” Your brows narrowed for a moment as he elaborated. “You seem tense, more tense then the present issues at hand alone. If there is anything on your mind, my counsel is always here.”

Your smile was half made and did not reach his eyes, but you ignored the twisting in your gut with a more low tone that didn’t feel very meaningful. “Just a long few days is all, my lord.”

A few long days indeed, but by the end of it, things had changed drastically. And everything, at least between yourself and Robb would be out in the open and no doubt ready to spread throughout the ruins of the castle by sunrise. But in the very moment your mind considered it all, that was really the least on your mind.

“No. We won't talk this out, he dies for this.”

It was almost precisely what was about to come out of Robb's mouth, and yet you beat him to it with a hissing anger and flashing rage in your eyes. He was furious, but once the dust settled he found himself surprised you were as angry as you were. But in truth he supposed it made sense. It was one hit after another for you and Robb knew you refused to talk about it over his angers.

You and his mother seemed to have spoke something in silence that afternoon when she told you of Renly Baratheon's death. She faded her own words off, but your head whipped up to meet her eyes with a morose knowing falling upon them. But you wouldn't handle it from front of all them, so you switched tactics and spoke of the matter solely on a strategic value. And yet before he had the chance to find the right way to approach you about it, did you and Roose Bolton come into the tent he and his mother were in.

He held a look of a stern knowing of bad news, and you were stiff and trying not to show the shaking in your hands as you gave him the raven scroll. You had only read it moments before Robb had, and as Roose explained it in greater detail, the intensity rose tenfold between both of you.

He couldn't comprehend it at first, there was no way it could be true. Half his life he was raised there. Bran, Rickon, and Arya had never had a life were Theon wasn't in, and Sansa would've been too young to recall what life was like before he showed up. Theon grew from a boy to a man right alongside Robb and Jon both. Robb knew his father treated Theon was good as a son as he could have, what right did he have to stab his family in the back for one that hadn't wanted him for over a decade?

It wasn't until late into the night, you fast asleep with your back tucked tightly against his chest, Robb running a free hand up and down your bare hip did it finally make sense. You went into this war in a difficult position. On an opposing side to a father who thus far had not made any attempt to make peace with his daughter. Knowing were you to have sided with Stannis, you'd have been a Princess of House Baratheon, and without being seen as a traitor by him, many all knew he'd have named you his heir in place of a son.

But you gave all of that up willingly. You set all of that aside to stand by Robb's side, and he pitied the version of his life he went through this war without you. You couldn't fight with Robb and your father both, so you chose him, you chose the family that had made you welcome and showed you love without question. You made the difficult choice to set aside what law dictated was your birthright, and stood with the Starks.

It made sense to Robb, that you took Theons betrayal hard. You were now watching the version of your life that you once feared the North would think of you. But you didn't, you stood out as a Southerner, a foreign girl with a father opposing Northern independence, and yet you were Robbs wife, his Queen, the North's Queen.

Theon went crawling back to a family that didn't want him and betrayed everything he was raised with in order to what? Impress his father? What about his father in Ned? What about Eddard Stark's memory deserved to be insulted like this? Ser Rodrick was dead, his brothers then what he could only assume were hostages.

You and Theon had a rough start, but once you both set aside the grudges against the others family, you both were such easy friends. Robb recalled how amusing it was that once you both stopped hating each other, it was as if that chapter of your dynamic never existed in the first place. You were both the outsiders to the Stark family, and your drastic opposites ended up meshing in some amusing ways that created the foundation for a friendship he knew you and Theon both cared a lot about.

In the easy days, neither of you would admit it as such, but if you weren't doing your duties, if you weren't spending time with either Robb or Jon, they all knew somewhere in the castle walls or wolfswood you and Theon were off competing in some fashion or another. Of course this hit you hard, first your uncle, then Theon, the life you once knew was unravelling before your eyes.

It only got worse when you and Robb returned to the encampment, and found out his mother had released the Kingslayer in the middle of the night. Now, you only had each other. Allies and friends were in this army yes, but in terms of who had the others backs in such a close way, you had only Robb and Robb had only you now.

He loved his mother, but there was no denying the rage at what she had done. Maybe he was harsh about it, but there were going to be untold consequences for setting Jaime Lannister free and Robb couldn't afford to risk your life on top of his mens.

And yet, it never stopped getting worse. Robb barley had time to even consider what had happened at Harrenhal yet. Once Roose Bolton came to he and you with two raven scrolls, it felt as if the world was testing if Robb could keep his kingdom together let alone his family. He told you he'd tell his mother alone, that she wasn't going to take any of it well and she might react easier if it was only him.

You had accepted with too much ease, Robb knew something was wrong but so much had piled on both your shoulders, he had not the foresight to guess. So you left him be, and Robb had to deliver the news to his mother.

“I hadn't seen him in years. I don't even know how many.”

His grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun, had been ill for some time, and finally it seemed the end of such a long bout of sickness took it's toll. Robb could tell his mother had spent well over twenty years in the North by now, she held her resolve in front of her son as well as Robb was doing in front of his mother. She'd fall apart later, and he'd fall apart later. For now, Robb had to be firm as he was comforting. “We'll travel to the funeral together. Roose Bolton will garrison here until we return.”

Robb wanted to feel guilt when she asked him, but he knew he couldn't let his personal attachment to his mother over take what she had done. And so he chose not to answer her comment of, “Will I be wearing manacles when I lay my father to rest?”

The answer was no, but he had a feeling that wouldn't make what news he needed to tell her next any better. It needed to be said, and he needed to not dose the words with honey. She needed to hear the truth as you and him were forced to learn it. “By the time Bolton's bastard Ramsay got to Winterfell, the Ironborn were gone. They massacred our people and torched the castle.” Robb paused to let the burning in his lungs try to deflate just the slightest, keeping the waver from his voice. “Bran and Rickon haven't been found.”

His mother found reason right away as he knew she would try. “They may have escaped, Theon may have taken them back to the Iron Islands as hostages. Have you received any demands?”

No, Robb thought to himself. He hadn't. But Ramsay and his men did find something. Something that painted the picture as clear as it could be, and as her son, this was the last news he wished to tell his mother. But as King, he did so anyways. Because amongst the dead they found, there were two bodies which stood out.

Charred, black, burned, and small. One smaller then the other and just the right size, and from the word of survivors which had hidden away in Winter Town, Theon had let them all know too well who such two little burned bodies belonged too.

By the time Robb reached what was acting as his chambers for the time being, he let the tears flow freely in silence. Head handing in his hands as he sat at the edge of the bed. By the time you had gently walked in, kneeling in front of him with your softness and delicate care, Robb knew he only had you left. The agony of losing everything but you hit him rough in his heart.

Until that was you guided his hand to sit against your stomach just under your clothes with a sweet, tender, whisper on your lips. “You have us.”

Not very warm the chambers you were in, even with a fire going all night. The cracks and chunks missing from the walls anywhere meant that nowhere was so in tact that it could keep the warm in. Though, with the fur atop you almost hiding you away under it and the figure behind you, keeping your back pulled firmly into his chest, you seldom needed to think of it as long as you didn’t leave the bed.

But, you couldn’t do that forever. Your legs itched to move and stand and you knew in bed you’d only fidget around until it woke Robb up, but he didn’t make the task simple. Inching ever so slowly out of his grasp and out of the bed, quickly did you find yourself grabbing a long robe. Draping almost against the floor like a gown as you tied it’s front before making your way along the room. Stepping into a smaller shoe then your usual boots to hide the coolness from your feet as well.

Somewhat along the room was a hall, you suspected once a door existed where it stood but none anymore, burned away no doubt. And no inclination to properly fix, your answer as to the question of why coming shortly thereafter. Wherever it once led, it didn’t anymore. A drop off down to the lower levels, bodies from up here looked like ants and sounds were muffled if any voice could carry to these heights.

The air was cool and a set of stones sat between you and below but little else, but no fear was felt surprisingly. The insides of this great structure exposed to you, and yet that didn’t make you feel fear. The bones of what happened once made you angry, but now you knew there was little to be gained in that thought. They were gone, whats left of their power scattered and being fought over by blood. You feared what this war would bring to the ones you loved even more, not dragons long since dead.

Though, there was one more thing you were afraid of, small touches and a deep voice rumbling in your ear out of nowhere. Followed by a flat expression as the voice laughed. Robb tugged you into his back, one hand on your hip and the other sitting flat against your stomach. You didn’t even need to turn to see his handsome smile as he laughed at your jump. Leaning down to your ear, “It’s a dangerous fall from this height.”

Your smile was soft, nor did you move. “Which is why I still have two feet planted on the ground.” That time his chuckle was more in his chest and yet pulled a greater smile out of you. The quiet sat between you only for a moment before it was you who filled the silence. “I’m sorry.” Asking for what, your voice grew a bit more quiet, a bit more somber. “For everything that happened yesterday, I never said anything about your grandfather.”

Pulling you a bit closer, you felt his thumb run over the material over your stomach more in a gentle pattern. “It’s alright, my love. You had more then a few things on your mind too, yeah?” Tilting your head in a small agreement, Robb rested the side of his head against yours as he looked to the sights over your shoulder. “You weren’t the only conflicted one. My grandfather passed, Bran and Rickon are probably dead, and yet I felt the happiest I ever have when you told me. Suppose we’re a strange mix of both.”

Nodding slightly, your hands reached down, pushing up the material along his forearm of whatever he must have tossed on, you let your hands sit along there. Your eyes narrowed slightly as the wind blew somewhat in your direction, a feeling sitting in your heart that travelled down to your stomach once more. How strange it was that you were scared just last night to tell him. A laugh almost leaving you but of course it did not pass Robbs notice. Asking what, you turned your head slightly before leaning back against him almost more for support. “Everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve done and the thing that scared me the most was telling you about this.”

Another grin left, Robbs lips finding the hair at the side of your head before resting against it once more. Something soft on his tongue without any judgment, “You thought I would be mad. You thought telling your husband, who loves you as much as I do, whose always wanted a family of his own, would be mad his wife is pregnant. For such a smart girl, you’re a bit slow.”

Mouth dropping in part mock offence, Robb laughed only to all but yank you back when you tried leaving his touch. Knowing he was stronger then you, but your voice was more high pitched in an attempt to defend yourself. “We’re also at war, in the middle of Harrenhal when we came here expecting a fight. Of course I thought you would be mad now of all times.” Robb didn’t have to tell you he rolled his eyes for you to know, you could simply sense it.

His hand pressed more firmly down. “You could never make me mad. Certainly not about this. It doesn’t matter what happens in this war, we’ll make this work. I was actually thinking-”

You couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. “That’s a rare thing.”

A yelp followed as he pinched the hip he held, you laughing after apologizing as he pushed passed what you said. “What I was saying, is that I was wondering if you should stay in Riverrun when we get there.” Your head tried turning to the side with a furrowed brow, a feeling dropping in your chest only for Robb to pull it back and lull you back down. “We thought we were walking in on a fight. You were willing to fight in this state, but I don’t want to risk it anymore. You’ll be safe in Riverrun, you and my mother.”

Inhaling a bit, you let your hand drift downwards to rest over his hand. Only to have him switch places, Pressing it firmly against your stomach before covering with his own. The idea made sense, it wasn’t terrible, it made sense, but the thought sounded awful in your heart. You didn’t see the benefit for you in being apart from him that way. “What about you?” A hum came out in question behind you. “Your mother and I hide away in Riverrun, what are you doing without me?”

His head jolted back in amusement at you. “You saying I can’t fight this war without you?” You said nothing, which was as good as an answer to him. Holding you closer, you felt the need to grin in his voice. “Aye, you might be right there. I’ll be useless if I can’t have you beside me at night.”

What sleep would you find without him though? Every since you rode through the gates of Winterfell, three days without food or sleep you hadn’t spend a single night away from Robb. He was always there, always with his arms wrapped around you as you fell asleep. Nightmare or not, Robb was there to ease all of it.

The idea of being without him almost felt scary. What would you even do without him there at this point? You dared not want to actually find out. Shaking your head, you knew you had dropped the tone rather abruptly in your silence but Robb could adjust anyways. “I know I’d be safer. In Riverrun, with the baby, but my place is by your side. This war is yours as much as it’s mine too. As long as your fighting in it.”

The hand on your hip reached upward. Running along to cup your chin and turn you enough to look back at him seeking your eyes over your shoulder. “I’m not doubting that. I’m just trying to plan ahead is all. We might still be out here when the baby comes, and I need to know we have a plan.” Commenting that it was still around seven months in the future, Robb just pressed against your hand on his stomach more firmly. “Just wait and see how much I have planned out when that time comes, then.”

You both stood there for a while, neither feeling the need to say anything. The wind blowing just enough that Robb gently pulled your hair behind you off to the side out of his face. You felt his head moving, stretching upwards to gaze around. Taking the sight in, much like all of you took turns doing. All highborns, some more then others, inevitably learned about the fires of Harrenhal. The horrors of that day no matter how much the written texts by once Targaryean supports claimed it was otherwise.

Cursed and destroyed, no good could ever come of this no matter what. Harren the Black spent decades acting as a blight on the River Lords and the smallfolk, but no one thought this should’ve been the end to him, his sons, nor the castle so many people had struggled to help make. Nothing could justify this, and it seemed Robb did too. Mumbling low in your ear, “So, what exactly happened here?”

Face twisting, you more then halfway turned to look at him with a pure confusion, “I know you know the story, Robb.”

His hands wrenching from your body, he grabbed your forearms to turn you back to the sight, wrapping around you once more when putting you in place. “I do, but you’re the Targaryean expert here. I want to know how you’d tell it.” Asking with a hint of jest, questioning his usage of expert. “You know more about them then anyone else I’ve ever met.”

Sighing deeply, you knew he was not wrong. How much you wished it was, how much your head was tormented as a child growing up surrounded by their memories. Even as you walked over the graveyard of their dynasty, your family creating their new one on top of them, you couldn’t escape how much they haunted you and your thoughts. Everything they did and you rarely ever found something to like. “Well, the Great Council was held here.”

Silence was met before Robb muttered low and bemused, “That’s the first thing you think of in this place?”

Protesting with a grin, “To be fair, that involved my family.” Giving Robb pause, he looked down to you asking how. You didn’t blame people for not recalling that fact, it was obscure history and naturally only you would recall it. Head filled with so much information that held no significant anymore. But, you explained anyways. “Princess Rhaenys Targaryean. She was originally up for a claim as heir at the Great Council. Her father was King Jaehaerys’s firstborn son, but her mother was Jocelyn Baratheon. Our blood was meant to be on the Iron Throne through her before the Great Council.”

A grin came over Robb, as you did knowing exactly what conclusion he came to as you did. “Shame how that never turned out for your House. Baratheons on the Iron Throne.” Your eyes rolled, only to turn in his arms to look more up at him. Your hands grasping at his waist, looking down his shirt mostly left open and his breeches just barley pulled on. Perhaps your eyes lingered just a tad too long, his hand nudging your face up to meet his eyes from under your chin with a knowing glint in his bright blue eyes. “See something you like?”

Biting down on your tongue, any clever retort died on your lips before you let your hands drift upwards. Sliding flat against his torso, slightly letting them drift inside his shirt before running up along his collarbones still under the shirt before wrapping around the back of his neck. Robb held a smile, something both smug and yet soft down towards you, knowing he had caught you leering when you had been in such a more serious conversation. “Can you blame me?”

Oh the grin Robb gave you, making something needy in you almost ready to let the robe fall from your shoulders here and now. “My needy little wife.” Seeing a bright look grow on his face, coming to a realization before your eyes that not you had even gotten to yet. “So thats why you’ve been desperate for me for weeks now.” A flush fell over you, painting over your eyes so obviously as it only made Robb lean down with something more smug overtaking everything else in his eyes and voice. “My needy, pregnant wife can’t get enough of her husband.”

Trying to suddenly leave, your feet carried you only a few paces back into the room before Robb followed. Tugging you right back into his chest. “Oh no, you’re not running from this.” Instead of letting both hands stay at your hips, he let one rise up. Sliding down into the exposed loose fabric of your robe, he found your breast with a greed right away.

Grasping roughly as you gasped, your voice stammering in a pathetic attempt to pretend he couldn’t see so clearly how easily he worked you up. “It isn’t-it’s not that bad..”

Seeking your nipple, he twisted and tugged as much he could from the position he was in. His lips running along your check upwards towards your ear as he was warm in both sound and the breathe against your skin. “So if I pull this off,” His other hand now grasping at the tie keeping you dressed against the cool air as you tensed up, but from nerves, need or the shocks pleasured through you as he groped at your breast, you couldn’t tell. “And slip my hand between your pretty legs, I won’t find you wet already?” You knew he knew it was a lie, but you shook your head no to try. Robb only laughed. ‘You’re a bad liar, my love.”

Ever so slowly, Robbs hand grasped at the loose tie around your waist, pulling enough you felt every tug and pull and the fabric as it loosened around your front. A knock at the door however, stopped both of you in your tracks. Eyes flying upwards as a voice spoke muffled through, “Pardon, your grace, a message for you.”

Looking down at you, your eyes wide and trapped between a need he so easily dragged out of you, or a conflict of wanting to desperately asking him to ignore all his duties and strip you bare and take you back to the bed for anything he wanted to give you. Robb though, grinned before pressing his lips to your cheek. “Tonight, my Queen. If you’re good and wait for it, that is.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh leaving you in a high pitched need before Robb prompted you across the room for you to begin getting dressed. Moving himself towards the door, only opening it enough his figure could be seen as to indicate that whatever was needed would need a moment to get himself together.

It was an odd time for the feeling to strike, that the other lords would need to be told. Catelyn would need to be told. By the end of the day everyone would know, there would be no chance Robb wanted to hide his pregnant wife from his men, proudly wanting to show you off.

Routine at least sufficed for now, standing before him, you were so used to dressing him that neither of you even needed to say anything. He got his under clothes on, and you came to his side to put on his armour. Something at that point, you felt you could do with your eyes closed. His though were open and peeled down to your person. Not reaching out to you to interrupt, but his voice never found reason to hold back.

Robb always ready to fill the air to your quiet, that time a softness and adoration dripping through. “You’re going to have to stop wearing all this.” Your eyes flying upwards, he only flickered down to yourself. “I’m keeping you with me, but if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a battlefield, you are mistaken.” Your head looked up with a flat expression, but he didn’t listen to your silent protest at all. “My mother should have some dresses she could spare for you until we get to Riverrun. Have ones of your own made then that have room for when you start showing.” His eyes looked up as if pausing in thought before looking back down, your hands still uninterrupted at work. “Did the healers tell you how far along you are?”

Your eyes flickered up and back down quickly, your name coming from his lips accusingly. Your eyes down against his chest as you did the straps properly, voice quiet and knowing you’d get into trouble for not mentioning it. “Just over two moons..”

Name coming out more with an audacity, you knew Robb didn’t mean it angrily but he took the tone regardless as if scolding you. “You’ve been pregnant for two months, and you’ve known what? A month of that time and kept it from me?” Muttering under your breath you knew he didn’t hear you, he leaned down, “What’s that?”

Only saying quietly as if to put blame off of you, “Maege has known for a fortnight now.”

If you would’ve looked up to see Robbs face, you’d have seen the most fallen flat expression on him you’d ever seen. Mumbling under his breath with an annoyance you knew he only half meant. “Remind me to have a chat with her later.” Shaking your head with an amusement, you ran your hands along the armour against his arms as it separated from the leathers with a sigh. One signifying a satisfaction in your own work as he glanced down and back to you with a bright expression. “How does a man ever need a squire when he has you?”

A brief flicker of your eyes up and then back down, you only shrugged as you turned to put on a more loose fur lined coat almost too quickly for Robb to even move to do it for you, much to his dismay. Mumbling a bit as you fussed with the clasps at the front, you knew it was something a tad more insecure as it came from you. “It might be a better idea if you’re the one who tells the news to your mother.” Asking why, you felt his presence pace a bit closer but you didn’t look back yet. Still a bit under your breath as if trying to pass yourself off as casual when he knew better. “After yesterday, I don’t think she’d appreciate me coming to her to let her know she is to be a grandmother.” Glancing back up, you let a sigh more come out hoping the nerves left with it, which only marginally worked. “It may come across as insensitive to come from me right now.”

Nodding, Robb let his hands trail down your arms with a warm tone to match his soft gaze towards you. “I’ll handle my mother, you try not to let the men overwhelm you when they find out.” Asking how quickly that would get out, Robb rose an eyebrow as if assuming you should know the answer already, which perhaps you did as he said it. “Once I tell her, the first solider that overhears will tell another-”

Your voice came out much more flat and monotone then his own, knowing the teasing of Northerners coming your way. “Then the entire camp will know by midday.” Robbs head tilted in agreement before letting a hand rise up.

Cupping your cheek as he ran his thumb along the softer skin and tilted you up to meet his gaze as he stepped a tad closer to you. “We’ll make it through this, do you understand?” The words were firm even if his voice had not been, a gentle manner of trying to assure you there was nothing to be scared of. There was, but not for this. Of all things, Robb only wished you not be scared of what was to come with this. But you trusted him without a doubt.

Nodding gently, Robb didn’t say anything further. Instead choosing to lean down, and press his lips to yours. Nothing of greed or even a passion, but something lingering and chaste as you felt him savour the feeling as your hands slid up along his torso to around the back of his neck. His free hand sitting at your waist pulling you closer as he barley allowed himself to part before seeking you out again.

This marriage was nothing either of you expected. Thrusted upon both of you without any foresight that this was coming, you could only imagine how he must have felt hearing of it. You knew yours was less of a reaction and more of a shock.

For years, your father had done all he could to keep you from being pursued by the apparent many suitors which held interest in your name and status. Choosing rather to keep you firmly at his side, learning his trade and skills to one day prepare you to take over Dragonstone when the time came. You weren’t a son, which is what he always wanted, but you were all he had in place of one, and Stannis Baratheon was not a man to leave himself woefully under prepared when he could help it.

You had tried to argue, that he could not just throw this on you, then tear you back here to do his job while he was away when he wouldn’t even explain to you what was going on. For a Baratheon, your father did not often raise his voice, but he had a different tactic with you. A more edge to it that bordered on about to be lectured and it almost sprung something in your head that naturally feared getting on his bad side. Telling you with a deep frustration that he didn’t want to hear another word and that you were doing this no matter what. He had claimed it was the Kings choice and he had none.

The next day you were the only one brave enough to accompany your uncle to the throne room where Jon Arryn’s body was being prepared by the Silent Sisters. Asking in a quiet voice as you both stood to the side, why he was so sudden on this marriage. It was then he told you that it was in fact your father who came to him, all but demanding he make this betrothal as soon as possible. He had already gotten on a boat to Dragonstone then, you couldn’t ask him.

You knew now, why he used you as a pawn to gain the loyalty of the Starks and therefore the North, not that it worked. Only just barley opening your eyes as Robb pulled back, he looked down at you with all the softness you grew up thinking a husband would never show you. It came easy to Robb, as loving him came easy to you.

It had been a very long time since you ever knew something you wanted, but even standing in the blasted ruins of a haunted castle, you could say you had right in front of you all you could ever want. As long as you and Robb had one another now, that was enough. Just as it was enough with the little one between you.

Not all showed perfect respect to your position, but some were more amusing about it then others.

A sudden shout of your name had you turn on the spot some hours later, but not enough before all but being slammed into with a mighty grab. Looking up, the ever bright look in Dacey Mormonts eyes were enough to catch your attention as did her words, “My bloody mother kept this a secret from me for weeks. You trusted her with it but not me?”

A laugh came from you, knowing this was as good as a congratulations to her. “I never really told her, she put it together and I simply never denied it.” Daceys face only dropped amusingly flat, stating that such a thing wasn’t the same as what she meant. Letting an arm stay around you though she backed off enough so you didn’t looked like she was about to tackle you once more. “I wasn’t going to firmly tell anyone without a doubt before Robb.”

Dacey only giving her mother Maege a narrow eyed expression which she clearly read as a question. The later nodding amusingly towards you with a jesting tone, “I tried telling her she’s a fool for thinking he’d be anything but over the moon. Stubborn as all hell this one. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were one of my own girls.”

Sitting you down, more familiar faces begun to gather but it was all in good fun it seemed, teasing you for what seemed the only good news any had heard and would hear for a long time. But it wasn’t the same everywhere, or for everyone.

While back and forths were made at your expense, the air was not the same level of ease in the room Robb stood in. He knew she wouldn’t handle it as well as she might have were their lives all normal as they desperately yearned for, but he had to tell her himself. She’d figure it out and he needed his mother to to be at your side. She half raised you along with his father, Robb knew she deeply cared about you but for many reasons she had let personal feelings get in the way of being there for you the way Robb knew she wanted to.

“She’ll be in danger.”

Robbs voice though raised. Because despite the amount of understanding he could afford her, to did he feel at his wits end going rounds with his mother about you. Some subjects were far worse for his sanity then others, but all aggravating the same. “You think I don’t know that?”

Catelyns face twisted into her own frustration as she turned away. A hand running along her mouth before turning back to her son. “She should stay at Riverrun once we get there.” Robb only muttered that he wasn’t going to hide you away from him the entire war. “She will be safe there.”

Robb turned to face his mother with the hope he looked a bit more collected then full of a nerve then he felt broaching that topic. “Anywhere but by my side she’s not safe.” Catelyn took a moment to look at her son, seeing through his facade as a mother always could and saw the worry in his eyes all too well. Only getting as far as his name when Robb trampled over what would be her consoling to explain himself further with more coherency. “Mother, I didn’t bring her into this fight to hide her away. She’s my wife, and my Queen. I want her by my side, where she belongs.” Gesturing vaguely out to the walls they both knew Robbs men were scattered about. “My men all listen to her, respect her as much they do me. She could’ve gone anywhere, but she rode day and night to come to me when she escaped Kings Landing. I didn’t want to leave her behind then, and I won’t do it now.”

Looking away for a moment, Robb knew sometimes that was hard to consider. Knowing how much this marriage was dumped onto he and you both, Catelyn could almost forget that Robb knew you for near fifteen years before then. You weren’t some stranger, you were someone he knew and cared about but watching how deeply in love her son fell in such a short period of time was jarring he figured.

And it was fast, but Robb knew he has no problem with that. Everything between he and you started fast and he saw no reason to slow that down when you both were comfortable. Your own wedding night, a flustered, shy maiden but you did not hesitate. You knew what was expected of you, and instead of doing it out of only duty, you allowed Robb to teach you how to enjoy it, how to enjoy each other and you never looked back. Why should he? Why slow down when nothing about your lives together would ever give you a chance to do that?

Only when he had you and his child safe in Winterfell would he be able to slow down with you, but he wasn’t afforded that luxury just yet. So he was going to keep the speed you both went at, and that meant keeping you at his side to ensure you both always were at the same pace. Never one maybe leaving the other behind.

But, his mother had a point in her next words. “She’ll be in far more danger when word of this gets out beyond your men, Robb. Both of you will be in far more danger. If the Lannisters hear word that you are to have an heir-”

Robb only cut her off to solely finish her sentence. “They’ll do whatever they can do stop it.” Thinking for a moment, Robb only found himself sitting down. His mother slowly approaching to sit across from him at the small table of her temporary bedchambers. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he said it, but if he could be that honest in front of anyone, no matter their issues now, he could do so in front of his mother.

A furrow in his brow and a roughness to his voice as he said it, not looking at anything in particular. “I thought I’d already be a father by now.” Her eyes flying up to look at her son, but he did not return the gaze. Trapped in a memory of what he wished. “I knew she had to go back to Kings Landing, but I kept hoping she wouldn’t stay. That something would change early and she could come back to Winterfell. Nothing going wrong and maybe I could’ve ended up where I am now by the end of that year at least.” It was a thought, and it was distant and sad but he saw it and he knew his mother of all people would not judge him for it. “They’d nearly by two by now.” Your name coming back up. “Maybe she’d be in the same position, only she’d be pregnant with a second. Make you a grandmother in better circumstances.”

Catelyn let out a gentle huff meant to replace a laugh, the image not too far from the life she truly envisioned for her first boy. Robb had always wanted a family of his own, and while it being with you came as a suprise, all she had wanted for him was what Robb wanted now. For him to have that family, to be together where you all belonged. Not dead or lost or scattered or sworn away to a life never to have a family of their own.

Everything now felt broken, and Robb wouldn’t let go of what was left. And really, what truly was left to him was you and that baby. He loved his mother, but you and the baby were a bright spot on his darkened life. Something hopeful and something that spoke that a future for you all still existed. You and that baby to him were everything and he wasn’t going to leave you behind. Maybe you wouldn’t be safe out here with him, but you’d be together at least.

His mothers voice cutting in, no doubt trying to lighten the mood for his sake. “Do you have any idea what it is yet? Boy or girl?”

Robb only shook his head. “We haven’t gotten that far. She’s two months though, it won’t be long until the healers will be able to make a good guess.” His mother repeating the two specifically with a more narrowed gaze of question that he tilted his head with an answer. “Everything around us, she didn’t realize when she started feeling different until far passed what most women notice.”

He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but she still said it rather dry. “Well, after taking almost two years.”

Robbs gaze turned towards her with almost a glare, “The war has been hard on her.” Not saying anything, he almost now defended his own ability. “It wasn’t for the lack of trying.” Catelyn only gave a bit of a huffing scoff, muttering that she was unfortunately well aware of that.

His mother looked as if she had something more to say, and he knew what. She wanted to say his father would be proud of him, but she had said it once and he wasn’t ready to hear it only months after he was gone. But, he wasn’t ready now either. His mother was to have a grandchild, and he was still fighting a war against the Lannisters who took his fathers ability to meet his grandchild away in the first place.

Robb called his banners to rescue his father, but in turn the gods took him, his sister, and his brothers away from him. The only ones left to share this with were right here, and it was not lost on Robb that he didn’t feel proud of that. He didn’t even know if he’d ever be able to share his new life with Sansa either. With Tywin Lannister in Kings Landing, it was impossible to guess what fate could possibly befall the only sister he had left.

His sisters adored you. Sansa for years now had tried to pretend it was otherwise since growing to her teens, but he knew better. Deep down, Sansa was still that little girl who clung to your leg wanting to beg mother to let you stay and be her big sister forever. She’d be thrilled to be an aunt, but now he dared not think how she would hear that news. What those people must be saying around her of this war and her family, what they were no doubt forcing her to say just to survive.

Robb only had two siblings left to him, and they were the two which he was not sure would ever get a chance to share the new life for this family Robb was building with you.

If anything was true, it was all rather simple for Robb to find you despite being in this place. With the intimidating size of Grey Wind as he always found himself at your side, Robb seldom found it hard to seek you out. Whether he somehow could tell where his direwolf was, or something far stranger neither of you knew how to bring up was going on, regardless, Robb found you with ease.

A hand running along your back to slightly keep you more pressed into his side as Robb came up behind you, you heard his voice address his men with as much collected form as possible considering you knew all day he and you had been bombarded with Northern celebration of their Kings news. “If you could give me a moment with the Queen.”

Much like the rowdiness his father could summon, Smalljon Umber easily carolled the other men and lords up and out. “You hear the King. It’s a big castle, plenty of places to fuck off to.” Not leaving himself though, the just as large man he was like his father, gave a mighty pat on the arm to Robb with a knowing look as Robb only nodded with a held back smile.

Head turning both of you to watch as the last of them fell from earshot, Robb leaned to mutter amusingly in your ear, “Hope they haven’t been giving you the kind of grief they’ve given me.” Turning to him with a curiosity, you only asked what exactly was the kind of grief they were giving him. Robb though, only smirked, turning you to lean you more back against the table as he stood at your front, making you more comfortable as he could manage. “Heard more then enough about how they have no idea why it took you and I so long.”

Raising a brow, your voice was calm as your arms gently crossed along your front. “And, did you also explain to them that being at war makes that sort of thing not so simple?”

It seemed though Robb had an amusement within him. “Oh it is that easy, my love. It’s having it take that was the troublesome part. Not that I didn’t try.” Your gaze filtered away a bit, a fluster wanting to rise up into your face despite how little of yourself you had to hide from Robb at this point. A hand rose up, running along your cheek as you let your hands sit comfortably at his sides. His other sat at your hip, his eyes torn between your face and stomach. “I’m leaving Roose Bolton to hold Harrenhal, he and his men will keep any of whatever scattered Lannisters still out there from coming back here, and we should have everything North secured from them at the least.”

Nodding, your hands felt the need to toy with something, almost fidgeting against his side innocently as if the day had begun gathering up and needing to be expelled somewhere. “Well, at least Lord Bolton suits this place far better then Janos Slynt.” Robbs eyes narrowed a tad as you elaborated. “Commander of the City Watch, a complete imbecile.” Robb only let out a breathy laugh at how plainly you had put it, causing you to look up at him more amused trying to defend your own words. “If you spoke to him you’d agree. Well, maybe you wouldn’t. I’m fairly certain it was just me he had a particular hatred for. They gave him Harrenhal as a reward for arresting myself and your father.” Muttering almost under your breath, “So skilled, having his men do the killing while he held a knife up to the throat of an unarmed girl.”

Looking up and around, Robb only turned back to your attention with a bemused question. “What exactly about this place suits Roose Bolton better then?”

Your answer made him genuinely laugh at how plainly you put it right away. “A cursed ruined castle that everyone fears? Why wouldn’t a man like him suit that?” Robb only saying you had a point, something of the man as admirable to seek as counsel as he was intimidating and off putting to a somewhat fearful degree. You dared not imagine what being at the mercy of a man like him would be should he see you as an enemy.

Leaning you back more against the table in a loungeful manner, Robb let his hands sit more along your waist and hip as he stepped into you with bright eyes. “I was wondering,” Your head turning a bit in wonder not knowing how much he was going to trap you in this spot. “Do you still remember anything in High Valyrian?”

If you thought you could afford to pull away, you would’ve tried. Your eyes and face as flat as you could possible make them. “And why are we bringing that up?” Robb only pointed out the obvious, that this place was now synonymous with the Targaryeans, and he knows you learned their language and he wondered if you were still fluent. “I might be.”

“Say something.” Your voice raised more high pitched but amusingly incredulous with wide eyes to match as you asked why. But Robb only laughed, keeping you close in his hold. “I’ve never heard you speak it before, I want to hear you say at least something.”

“You-”

Cutting yourself off as you looked away with an exaggerated sigh, Robb only grinned brighter knowing he wouldn’t let you leave until you did. “Just one sentence.” Another deep sigh, you didn’t return his touch. Crossing your arms over your chest instead almost like a petulant child asking what he wanted you to say. His answer was just as audacious. “How about my pretty little wife tells me in her foreign language how much she’s looked forward to her King taking her apart tonight?”

Biting down against your tongue, you didn’t want the fluster to arise, giving credence to the fact that he was right and you had indeed been thinking about it. In this state, it was becoming so much more wanting within you to just stay in bed with Robb and focus on nothing else, much to your complete embarrassment over your sudden needs.

“Nyke'll sagon va ñuha ondos se knees syt ñuha dārys, gō kessa sesīr jorrāelagon naejot demand nyke naejot beg zirȳla syt ziry.”

It came out smoother then you thought it would. It had been years since you spoke a word but it came out as naturally as it did as you were fluent. It seemed that fluency did not leave, and what a joy you thought. In no way shape or form did your future entail anything that would make still being fluent in High Valyrian in any way useful.

Robb looked amused though, enjoying the way it rolled off your tongue in a manner which almost held a bit of an accent not yours. The idea taught to you that speaking another language in the accent its spoken in normally, makes it come more fluent and natural to any ears who understand it. “What did you say?”

As if you were going to tell him that. Saying something far more debauched then you’d want to come out of your mouth in Common willingly. No one around knew what you said, you’d rather they not. Prompting you once, twice to get you to tell him, you just laughed saying his name in protest. “You asked me to say something, not to say something you’d ever understand. Maybe I just said you’re a ponderous oaf with a fat head.”

Robb only held more of a smirk and a glint in his eye. “I’ve trained my good girl far too well to worry she’s insulting me in another language.” Your eyes widened as you looked around, but any scattered eyes could not hear you even a little bit. His lips pressing to your cheek before he grasped your chin, leaning down and turning you to face him, his breath dancing across your skin as he muttered lowly, “If I had to guess, my girl just told me how much she wants me to throw her on her hands and knees tonight.”

Your eyes wished to explode from their sockets as you felt a complete embarrassment fill you. “How-”

Robb only grinned with such a smug look that was so enticing on his handsome face. “I know my wife by now.” Before pressing his lips back to yours. Keeping you against him for longer that time, both of you taking the rare moments in such a strange and dour place to feel any happiness. That Harrenhal could ever be a memory of good for anyone, let along yourself and Robb. But as your arms rested along the back of his neck as you kissed him right back, it was certainly so. A place where some good actually arose.

The dreams however, were not. As a night of passion once more between lovers, once sleep fell upon you did strange dreams fill your head. Ones never more vivid then when in the walls of this castle. Whispers in your head as if being spoken to from across the Gods Eye and filling your head with dreams you did not comprehend.

A winged shadow over the skies of Kings Landing, a freezing so cold it shivered your bones in your sleep, and a baby. Dark curls with bright eyes, not green nor blue though, a notable grey staring up at you as did a gentle womans voice whisper in your ear, that you would nearly forget by the time you awoke. As if something about the lands of Harrenhal were trying to show you something far before you were ever capable of comprehending it.

“Promise me, Ned.”

[rainyorca]

Flowers Don’t Bloom In Winter ❀ Logan Howlett x Reader

Content Warnings: F!reader, angst/no comfort, character death, kissing/make out, implied smut, mild gore, strangers to friends to lovers.

Summary: “Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice. Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.” 

You'll wilt, all flowers die. But he'll bloom again.

Notes: I’ve been a wolvie fan since i was suppperrr young and I am so glad him (and hugh) are getting attention again. This is my second-ish time writing for him, I just got done rewatching the movies for the first time in a while so hopefully I did him a little justice. His hair in origins will forever be my favorite but in this you can think of him from any movie, there is no set one, no set timeline wolvie.

Words: 6,121

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You're not a weapon. 

You’re more human than everyone else.

Human was a funny word, to Logan at least. Being human meant a lot of things, mutant wasn’t one of them. Stuck as a mutant with the heart for a human, what a tragedy. Actually, did he even have a heart? Oftentimes he would spend nights trying to find his own heartbeat, a hand laying on his chest while he stared up at the ceiling. 

When he met you he wondered if you knew what he was, the way you stared at him when he came in and sat down at the bar made him curious. Most don't know, he looks normal on the outside, so how would you know? But he did have a hard time keeping his eyes off you too, you smelled human but there was something so sweet about your scent, it made you different from others. 

Wisteria, sandalwood, jasmine and maybe a hint of vanilla, he couldn't really pinpoint what you smelled like (however it reminded him of forests, nature, his old home) all he knew was that he wanted the scent to last forever, like a candle he could buy over and over again. He would only watch the stage when you got up there and when you're done, he would be too. 

You came to the bar shortly after to get yourself a drink, your eyes resembled a rabbit’s; innocence and beauty all in one, and they immediately found him. There was something else in your eyes, deep within like you were trying to figure him out. When you got closer to him your scent got stronger, so strong it was almost overwhelming. No human has ever had that effect on him before, at least not enough to make him physically react like he did, squeezing his glass a little tighter. 

“Hello,” you smiled brightly, like a blooming flower, voice gentle whilst you greeted him. 

“You must be new, I haven't seen you at the bar before.” 

“Just figured I’d try out a new place,” he responds, an attempt to try and be friendly despite his intimidating looks. You smile again, swallowing down the remains of your liquor and then putting the dish in the sink. “Glad you came to us,” your eyes travel down to his somewhat empty glass, “you want another?” 

Your kindness was obvious, but no one that kind is ever really okay. There was something off about you, something deep down was bothering you or maybe you just had some other problem he couldn't figure out. You're kind but in a calming way, not overwhelming. What's the word? Tranquil? That's what he thought of you. 

You knew Logan wasn’t human when you first met him. He looked human just like a majority of the rest of the mutants but you had a keen eye for finding them. It was a talent to some people, being able to point out who was ‘real’ and who was not. Logan was no exception, you could practically see that mutant blood underneath his thick skin as if you had x-ray vision. 

A human trying to befriend a mutant, what an odd thing to most of the world. You should be scared of him. People would say, many warning you to beware the mutants, stay away from the entities wearing human skin. He's only going to hurt you, stay away from him. 

Logan wasn’t an entity, he had a human heart just like the rest of them. But to you, he was a little more human than the others. To you, he looked like a winter flower, strong and capable of handling whatever comes its way, but flowers don't bloom in winter. He was too good to be true. 

You don’t really remember the details of how you met Logan (besides making small talk that first time), but what always stays in your head is what happened a few months later upon meeting him. 

There was a little dispute in the parking lot of your job. Being a dancer doesn't mean you do all the hard work at your job, that's up to the servers and bartenders. But of course you were always the one to go clean up after people. Your coworkers assigned you the role after you broke up a bar fight on your first night, so all the dirty work (dealing with rude customers or fights in and out of the bar) was left up to you. 

Kill them with kindness is an extremely real and full proof method, people find your kindness a little off putting (though you are unsure why). You don’t know what the guys were fighting about but it got messy quickly, they both started swinging at each other and when you tried to split it up suddenly you were the problem. 

Pushing you up against the car, threatening you instead of each other. Your coworkers who were once watching from afar were now safely back inside. You braced yourself for some hits, maybe you would get a cool scar out of the situation, a story to tell to your future children (if you even had any). But all that confidence from before was dropped as soon as the guy got on his knees, grabbing your injured face as you leaned lethargically against the car, making you look at him.

Your bare legs hurt on the asphalt, rocks digging into the softness of your skin, leaving marks. He held a knife up to your ribs, pressing and pressing until you felt a sharpness, the tip of the blade digging into your flesh. The other guy had run off, probably took his chance and instead let you take the beatings. 

You remember him getting ready to stand up, his face getting closer to you while he continued to threaten you, that was until he went silent. There was the sound of flesh ripping, or a knife sheathing you weren’t really sure. Blood splatters onto your face, the only thing you could hear was gurgling and a gruesome choking sound from the man. Slowly opening your blurry eyes, the sight in front of you almost made you scream if your throat wasn't so dry. 

The man had been silenced, three blades stuck out the front of his face, the tips of them so close to yours you could feel them poking into your skin. A shaky gasp escapes your lips when you see him move, his body lifting up. Standing behind him, the man's blood spilling onto his knuckles, was Logan (Haemanthus, in that moment). 

The look of fear on your face was clear in the dark, Logan could see it, hell he could probably smell it. You watch him toss the limp body aside and then he crouches down in front of you. Flinching away, you watch those metal claws slide back into his knuckles, the openings they tear closing almost immediately. Then he cups your face with that same, blood soaked hand, trying to wipe the blood that had splattered onto your face (useless, he was only smearing it). 

That was the first time you ever saw Logan use his powers and it was to protect you. What you should’ve done is run, call the cops or something but instead you stayed, you stayed in front of him, letting him pick you up and carry you back into your job. 

Humans are curious creatures, thirsting for an explanation of something they don't understand, even if that explanation could kill them. So, after that, you would stay after hours on your job, as long as he was there. After you got done closing you would ask him to show you, show you his claws so you could feel them, look at them. Maybe even worship them if you were that kind of person. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, trailing your fingers up the blades. “When they come out?” 

“Every time,” he responds, watching you intently, no one has ever seemed to show this much curiosity over his claws, at least no human has. 

“There’s something sort of humbling about them,” you speak slowly, looking at your reflection on the blades, “the fact that you could so easily kill me, kill anyone, yet you choose not to.” 

Your fingers trail back down the blades until you stop at his wrist, wrapping your hand around it to feel them when they return into his body. You could feel his muscles move every time his bones shift to allow the metal to escape the cavity of his arm. His eyes stay locked on your face, watching every tiny change in expression. 

“Are you scared?” he asks, voice low but there's genuine curiosity in the gentle cadence of his voice. 

Your eyes meet his. “You could never scare me.” 

It was hard to say whether you really liked Logan after what happened, a part of you knows what he did was illegal, but he did it to protect you, maybe you could rule it out as self defense if the cops come searching. You took an interest in him honestly, this was your first time getting to know a mutant, your first time being saved by one too. 

But there was a part of you that wanted to protect him, keep him safe and out of harm from humans and mutants alike. Logan is stubborn but not as stubborn as you. You would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant risking your own life, although he argues that you shouldn't do anything like that for him. Humans are much more fragile, at least that's what he would say to you. He compared you to a flower, prone to breaking, prone to destruction. He feared that he wouldn't be able to keep you safe. 

It's strange, just a few months into this little friendship and you already feel this instinct to take care of him, to nurture him, treat him like he's the most perfect piece of art in the whole world, and also the most breakable. Like he's the most precious, rarest flower you’ve ever seen. The type that you discovered, not some random traveler. Even a few months in he allows you to meet all the other mutants, the ones he calls his family. You hit it off with Storm pretty quick, she knew how to be your voice of reason, your help when it comes to figuring out your feelings for Logan. 

You also enjoyed staying at the mansion, being able to interact with all the students. This place was wonderful to you, but you didn't like having to stay behind when Logan went on missions. 

Every time you watch him walk out that door you feel like you're left with nothing but desperation, the desire, the need to go with him. All you want to do is help him. But you were also left with fear, strangely enough. No matter how many times he came back, everytime he left it felt like he was never gonna come back. They’re just missions, he’ll be back soon. That's what you always told yourself.

You don't know why you cared so much, you two weren't even dating. But you don't really know what to call the relationship you two had, you were much closer than just regular friends. Yearning was never your thing until you met him. Usually you try to avoid relationships, your fears always making it hard for you to stay with someone. 

I wanna be a part of you. 

You would tell him. Always touching him, that was your thing. He liked that about you, that you felt safe around him, comfortable enough to always be touching him, a hand constantly on his shoulder or fingers wrapped around his wrist. It was something you did every time you were with him, even if you were safe from harm. 

His most favorite thing was that scent of yours, it drove him crazy in all the good ways. He could tell when you had just been in a room and he could follow your scent out of that room if he so pleased. He remembers the first time Charles talked about you after you had left the room just a few minutes before he arrived. 

“She's quite a unique one,” he says, watching Logan adjust to your scent filling the room, “isn't scared of mutants, believes we are all equal. I'm glad you found her, Logan.”

“Yeah well, I knew she’d be good here,” Logan responds, leaning against the wall. Charles is quiet, but there's a growing smirk on his face. “What?” he asks a bit harshly.

“You like her,” Charles says, “I don't have to read your mind to tell.”

“Yeah well a mutant and a human won't really work out, so forget it,” Logan grumbles, pushing through the doors and leaving the room before Charles could protest.

The dynamic was weird (for a pair that wasn't dating), but considerably normal to the other mutants. Many seek him out for protection too, he's just the type of guy you gravitate to, despite that grumpy face and angry attitude. You know that's not who he is on the inside, he's much more gentle than what others seem to think about him (Hibiscus, a delicate beauty, Gypsophilia, pure of heart).

When Logan was out on missions, you would spend your time distracting yourself with flower hunting or spending money on bouquets just to make you happy. You would leave them around the mansion, around your work. 

You love seeing him in the audience when he returns, usually sitting at the bar. He leans against it, facing the stage, eyes only on you (Sweet daffodil, you're my only one. The sun shines when I'm with you). When you were done for the night you would run to him, wrapping your arms around him, finding so much comfort in those large arms. 

You imagine Logan would be a kind lover, gentle and caring. The type to freak out if he accidentally hurt you. The type to sit you on his lap during dinner even if there was a chair for you. You know he would take care of you, he's said it a million times before. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he says softly one night after you get off work. You're standing behind the bar, watching him drink the last of the whiskey. 

“You can't be near me all the time,” you hum, teasingly, unaware of his seriousness. You figured it was just him being a little flirty. 

“I can if I want to,” he responds, his smile often a little rare to see but present in this moment. 

He made it very hard for you to try and hide your flusteredness. Logan can be very flirty, more unintentionally than not. In all honesty, maybe you did want him, wanted to be with him. For once you can see a future with someone, something rare for you (usually trying not to look ahead). You could see the future where you live in a cabin with him, somewhere in the woods, probably in Canada or somewhere cold. He would get a normal job, you would make him breakfast and then kiss him goodbye before heading to your own job. Maybe it was a sad, pathetic thing to think about at night but you couldn't help yourself, it was the life you always wanted and you finally found someone to have that life with. 

The day you really realized it, was when he came back from a longer mission, longer than usual. For once you didn't work that week, taking a break to give the new dancer a chance to earn some money. You spent that week cleaning your place, organizing, doing the things you didn't usually have time for. That's when you received a call from the mansion, Ororo had called you, letting you know Logan was back. 

You’ve never driven so fast in your life, that long trip turns into a few quick minutes. The snow didn't stop you, instead it only made your adrenaline spike, your excitement. You practically slipped when you got out of the car, running to the front door of the mansion. 

When it opened to his handsome face you felt a tingle in your spine, electricity coursing through your veins. He starts to walk forward, snow starting to stick to his dark hair, his arms open waiting to catch you. 

In that moment, when you ran into his arms, feeling them wrap around you again and cover you in that familiar warmth, that familiar scent, you felt something more. More than fasciation, more than adoration, you felt love (A blooming orchid). 

“Miss me?” he asks with a smile when you pull away, your arms still wrapped around his neck. He sets you carefully back down on your feet.

“Always,” you breathe, tears pricking at your eyes. You don't know why you felt like crying, you blamed it on the fact of how much you missed him, or maybe you were just incredibly overwhelmed. 

You knew the problems with wanting to be with Logan. The major one you realized while rewatching Twilight (Ironic given your situation, Edward a vampire, Bella a human. You a human, Logan a mutant). Logan is practically immortal, honestly you don’t even know how old he is now. You’ll grow old, eventually succumb to your age or maybe even a sickness if you're lucky. Logan will still be living, just older, a little more grumpy. 

You’ll wilt, all flowers die. But he’ll bloom again.

But unlike Twilight, you won’t get your happy ending. Logan can’t bite you and turn you into a mutant like Edward does with Bella. His fangs are dulled, they don’t secrete any special type of life changing liquid. 

Unfortunately you’ll be human forever. What a curse it is to be human or to be living at all. 

… 

The first time you and Logan kissed was outside his place, surrounded by nothing but trees, fresh snow falling to the ground and sticking to your hair. You had embarrassingly fallen on your ass walking up to his house, he quickly rushed out to help you up, dusting you off and asking if you were okay. But when he picked you up you never let go, keeping your arms wrapped around his neck while he held you on your own two feet. There was that buzz in the air, the flutter right before a kiss, that tingly feeling in your spine knowing it’s going to happen. 

And when his lips graze over yours you practically shove his head down to kiss him, pressing your lips against his without even considering the situation. To your surprise, he kisses you back, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter and lifting you up so your legs wrap around his waist. 

It was like something out of a movie, just missing a mushy love song. You wished you could hold that kiss forever but your lips would get sore and you would probably get frostbite. 

When you pulled away he stared at you, eyes piercing into yours before he freed one of his hands. His fingers curl around the chain of his dog tags, and then he pulls them up and over his head.

Then he puts them around your neck, the jingle of them coming to rest on your collar bones makes you shudder, but from warmth, excitement. 

You hide them under your shirt most of the time, always toying with them to make sure they are still safely around your neck. It’s like he transported his warmth with them because they were always warm no matter how cold it was outside. 

Sometimes, if you see him before he leaves somewhere, he’d press a hand to where they hang, rough palm warm against your chest. It was like his little special way of saying goodbye, just in case he didn’t return (which you hated to think about). 

Logan eventually gave you the spare key to his place, allowing you to visit whenever you so pleased. And when he was gone sometimes you would curl up in his bed, inhaling his scent and usually getting the best sleep of your life. His scent brought you comfort, you always wanted to be surrounded by it, drowning in it. 

On occasion but rarely, he would come home to you still in his bed, buried under the covers and sleeping soundly. He’d pull the blanket back gently to see your face, sit down on the edge of the bed and stare at you while he waited for you to wake up. 

But usually you would be gone, his bed would be empty but he would always know you were there. Your scent would seep into sheets, the mattress drinking up your smell. He could smell you, like you were still present (Soft jasmine, beautiful wisteria).

Now the first time you two ever slept together was at his place of course, you were slumped from work, muscles aching, head throbbing. You’ve never been this tired before. You push through the door, unlocked as usual when he’s home. He’s already in bed when you're there, awake but he looks just as tired as you. He sits up when he sees you, turning on the lamp so you can see. You don't even say anything, instead you just drop your things by the doorway, tugging your shirt off over your head letting it pool on the ground. 

He doesn’t seem to care, instead he just watches you as you curl into bed next to him. “Rough day?” He asks a few moments later, turning the lamp off. 

“Don’t even get me started,” you mumble back, voice muffled by his pillow. You can already feel yourself relaxing, his scent like a calming drug (the smell of peaceful lavender).

He doesn’t hesitate, he turns to his side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. You let out a sigh, melting into his warmth. It started out as a normal night, sleep coming to you quickly. But it wasn’t until you felt Logan stirr, moving a little in his sleep. He lets out a quiet grumble, and then a louder one. 

Then you feel a sharp pain, agonizing, stinging, right in the back of your shoulder. You let out a yelp, jolting up, your movements pulling whatever it was out of your flesh. You look back, reaching a shaking hand back to feel the wounds. “Damn,” you groan when you see blood on your hand, Logan’s claws unsheathed, the tips covered in your blood. You can feel the warmth travel down your back, the sight of the blood trickling down your back and staining the sheets makes you feel dizzy.

Logan stirrs again, sniffing the air, eyes fluttering open at the scent of your blood. He acts as soon as his eyes land on your back, fear and worry clouding his head. “Fuck,” he curses, “fuck, fuck.” 

“I’m okay, I’m fine.” You breathe through clenched teeth, getting up to go to the bathroom. He quickly picks you up, carrying you to the bathroom. He sets you on the bathroom sink, maneuvering around you so he could clean your wounds. You open your eyes, staring at his face. He’s focused, brows furrowed, lips slightly parted as he continues to wipe the blood from your open wounds before finally getting them to stop bleeding. You watch as he slowly starts to wrap you up with the gauze and bandages. 

You reach up, softly cupping his face with your free hand, making him halt his actions. His eyes meet yours, your reflection so visible in his pupils. Unsure of how long you stared into his eyes, he had somehow finished wrapping you up without taking his eyes off you. You could feel yourself inching closer, getting closer and closer to his face until you can feel his breath. His lips graze over yours and you flinch back, as if you haven’t kissed him before. It’s been a few months come to think of it, but still you shouldn’t be nervous. 

Logan just has that effect on you. It only takes a few seconds until your lips meet, kissing him gently, your fingers finding their way to the nape of his neck. Fingertips brush the shore of his hair, almost like an invitation. 

And he takes it, kissing you with a little more vigor. His bloodied hand comes up to your face, smearing a little bit of your blood on your cheek. He’s careful with his movements, gripping your waist with his other hand to keep you up on the sink, to steady you. His kisses are starting to get more aggressive, pressing you a bit further back onto the sink.To make sure you don’t slip in, he reaches underneath you, his large hand coming to rest on your ass as he holds you still. 

You can feel that familiar heat start to pool between your thighs, and he can feel it too, or in other words smell it. Your legs clench around him, squeezing as if you're trying to pull him into you. He frees his hand from underneath you, feeling up the bare skin of your waist, his rough fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. He pulls away, resting his forehead against yours while he stares down at your semi-bare body, debating on unclipping your bra to feel you more. His breathing is rushed but even, mouth open. 

“Logan,” you breathe, coming out more as a desperate plea. He hums, pressing your lips together again, open mouth kisses, tilting his head for better movement and access. There’s a thin string of saliva that keeps your mouths connected when he pulls away. 

He can see it in your eyes, the desperation, not only that but he could smell it too. Your scent was strong, if he got closer to your core it would be overwhelming, and he's not sure he’d be able to stop what he's started.. “You’re hurt,” he says quietly, “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore than you already are,.” 

“You won’t,” you respond, a smile on your kiss bitten lips, “Logan, please.” He kisses you again, slower and softer this time. “I can't,” he whispers against your lips, keeping them close even after pulling away again. 

“Why not?” you speak softly, scratching his scalp with your nails. He hesitates, his thumb rubbing your cheek. “You know why.” He smiles, gentle and small before licking his thumb and wiping the small amount of blood off your face. “C’mon,” he mutters, lifting you off the sink. 

… 

Logan gave you all kinds of nicknames but your most favorite came from you showing up to his place with flowers. You loved orchids, always have so you bought a small bouquet of them to put on his coffee table. He accepted gracefully, and then from then on he started calling you by that name. A simple nickname but it was lovely.

 Orchid, my little orchid. A nickname uniquely your own (Orchids, love, beauty).

It wasn’t long before you two had officially agreed to being in a relationship, having a label. And not long after that you decided to move in with him, a bold move but you spend more time at his place than yours anyways. At night the moon will shine through the windows, lighting up the room with its cool toned glow. You’ll lay your head on Logan’s shoulder, your hand resting on his chest. You’ll both lie awake in silence while you draw circles on his chest with your finger. 

Some nights you’ll sit on his lap while his back rests against the headboard, your hands cupping his face. On occasion, you’ll run your thumb over his bottom lip until he parts them for you, then you’ll feel his abnormally sharp canines, his fangs. You test them, pressing the pad of your thumb into the sharp point to see if it’ll make you bleed but he always stops you before you ever do. When you're asleep he’ll stare at your face till morning, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek. He stares at his dog tags around your neck, always warm from your body heat and always safe. 

He admires your beauty, especially when the sunlight hits you just right. When you're hiking in that tank top and whatever pants you decided to wear that day, he stares at your backside, your silhouetted figure. And when you bend over to tie your shoe, looking back at him with a smile, his eyes not only fixate on your face, but your scars. The scars he left engraved on your skin. 

The scars you admired, the scars that comfort you, a reminder of him always. 

It’s past 11 pm, you’ve been in the bath for almost an hour now, the water starting to get cold. The room is dark, only lightened by the light seeping through the open bathroom door. You lean back, head resting on the edge of the tub, fingers toying with Logan’s dog tags.

The familiar sound of the front door opening echoes through the silent bathroom, Logan's heavy footsteps can be heard walking around, like he's looking for you. You slide down further into the bath, trying to hide yourself playfully, peaking over the edge while you wait for him. That's when he peeks into the bathroom, a smile creeps over his face when he sees you.

“Hi, gorgeous.” he says in that comforting gruff voice. He crouches down by the side of the tub, dipping his hand into the warm water. “Hi.” You smile, sitting up and resting your head on your hands, holding onto the edge of the tub. He brings a hand up to caress your face, gently rubbing the warm skin of your cheek. 

“What did you do today?” you ask, watching him reach for the loofa and dip it in the water. He grabs your arm gently, rubbing your skin softly with the item. “The usual,” he responds, staring at the suds on your skin while they wash away. You hum, sitting back in the tub again, making him let go of you and get further. “C’mere,” you beckon, tapping the edge of the bathtub. He complies, getting up and sitting down on the edge. He leans down so he could be close to your face. 

“I was thinking about you today,” he says softly, cupping your face, “I always am.” Smiling a little wider, you reach up with both hands, grabbing his face and pulling him down to kiss him. He kisses you back, much to your pleasure. You're quick to part your lips, giving him access to use his tongue. 

It's an aggressive kiss, open mouthed and borderline messy. He pulls away to say something but you block it out, too focused on the feeling of his lips to even notice. You try to pull him back down and you successfully do, he doesn't put up a fight or anything. The kiss becomes more vigorous, more violent but so passionate.

He slips, falling into the tub fully clothed, making the water rise and spill out over the sides. You laugh softly in which he responds with a small laugh too. He’s laying on your side, face inches away from you and just a little lower as he allows himself to slip into the bath more comfortably. Your lips graze over his again, his smile fades as he kisses you and then pulls away. 

You adjust your trapped arm behind his head, scratching his scalp as he gets closer and closer. Then he kisses you again, leaning his whole body forward and cupping your face with a wet hand once again. You close your eyes, but he opens his just slightly while his lips slowly slot against yours. Open mouth on open mouth, his lips never leaving yours. The only noise that fills the space is the quiet sound of water sloshing, soft breaths from the both of you while you kiss until practically sucking the oxygen from each other. 

Pressing his lips against yours a little rougher now, he eases on top of you. Your hands travel up and down his flanks and back, feeling him through his soaked clothes tight against his skin until you tug and pull at the bottom of his shirt. He sits back, breaking the kiss for once and taking his shirt off, immediately returning to your lips. A gasp escapes your mouth when you feel him press his hips against yours, his cock clearly wanting to be freed from the prison of his jeans. He can smell your arousal, your need for him. His lips move down your jaw and to your neck, kissing at the supple area while he struggles to grind against you. His fangs graze over your skin, making your body shudder at the feeling. 

Water spills out the tub with every erratic movement, but you can feel the warmth returning. He uses his other hand to hold the dip in your spine, making your back arch by habit, by command almost. Your eyes go all hazy and the more he presses his bare skin into yours you swear you feel like you're melting into his body. 

“I love you,” he whispers, into your neck. 

…

You loved flowers, always have. You loved what they represent depending on what type they were, you loved how colorful they usually work, how unique they are. You loved how they bloom again even after death, even after they've wilted and lost all their color. The petals turned into something wrinkled and rough, unlike their usual clear, softness. 

Even after they die, they still bloom again in springtime. Daisy, lavender, day lily, aster, they all bloom again. Flowers don’t mourn the dead, they respect it, embrace it. They become one with the dead, seeping into the ground and back into the earth in which a person is buried. 

To him, you were a flower. Delicate and soft, something he wanted to protect, to see everyday. Your color, he couldn't quite describe it but it was uniquely your own. Over 10 million colors and somehow when he sees you  and it's something separate from the million to choose from. When he thinks of you, that's the color he sees. When he thinks of you, he sees an orchid. 

But is a flower still a flower after all its petals have been ripped off, gored and left to rot and wilt on the ground. Is a flower still a flower after it's been torn out of the ground, roots ripped, its purpose gone?

You think of all the times you’ve woken up beside him, smiling when he opens his eyes, murmuring a soft “good morning” as he reaches up to touch your face. You remember the times where he would soothe you on your tough days, running a bath for you and gently rubbing the loofa on your skin. So many good moments, very few bad ones. 

Words of affirmation weren't your love language, at least not usually. But Logan had another super power, and it was exactly that. He knew what to say and how to say it at all the right moments. He was a generous lover, attentive, caring, when you were with him you felt like yourself. 

“Winter came early this year,” you hum, clutching the white orchids in your gloved hands, “my first one without you.” 

“I keep buying orchids for you, whenever I have the time. But even when I don’t you're always on my mind.”

You go silent, tears starting to bubble up in your eyes. “I just- I-” you stutter, voice breaking as you grip the flowers a little tighter. You fall to your knees, snow wetting your pants while your tears run down your face. Your sobs slowly pick up in volume every time you try to speak, only to get choked up and give up. “I just wanna see you,” you sob, pressing your face into the snow below, “I just want to see you.” 

You drag yourself further up the ground until you're met with the headstone, Logan’s name engraved on it, freezing to the touch. You press the flowers into the snow, laying down on top of them while your hands move to clutch his dog tags tightly around your neck. The snow and soil drink up your tears, and you can only hope they reach him.

 He was a flower, a dangerous one on the outside but oh so beautiful on the inside. But you seemed to forget one thing. 

Flowers don't bloom in winter.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

I don't know flowers that well so forgive me flower fans ahaha

[querenciasturniolo]

ghost ⮕ s.t.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: depictions of death (no active murder), mentions of death, mentions of vomit, blood, suspense, anxiety, fear, swearing

summary: murders in los angeles have been happening left and right, and right as you think it couldn’t get any worse, one of your best friends is gone.

a/n: this took much longer than it should have, and for that i’m sorry, but i have a few things to say beforehand. this was inspired by multiple edits, two separate convos i had with @floofparker and @champangekisses , scream being one of my FAVORITE scary movies, and, of course, the iconic “WHO’S MOST LIKELY TO BE THE GHOSTFACE KILLERRRR” from chris. this took FOREVER, but i’m so proud of it and so excited to put it out. this is pretty reminiscent to the movie, but i added my own little spin on it. PLEASE read the bolded disclaimer and take it to heart, i don’t think anything that goes down in this fic would actually happen, hence the name fanfiction. it’s supposed to be unrealistic, that’s the point. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Twenty year old social media star Christopher (Chris) Sturniolo was found dead outside of his Los Angeles home on September 22, 2023. His brothers, who he made comedy videos with on multiple platforms, Nicolas and Matthew Sturniolo, claim their brother had been out with long-time friend and fellow content creator, Y/f/n Y/l/n, hours before.

Nick and Matt told police moments before they rushed out to find their brother with multiple stab wounds, they heard yelling and a struggle. When they reached Chris, the assailant was gone. Y/n hasn’t spoken about their day together prior to his death, and has refused to answer any questions asked. Her and Matt Sturniolo seem to have ended their year-long relationship shortly after this tragedy, but we all want to know why. Was there an affair? Was the guilt too much to keep the secret after Chris’ death?

On October 13, 2022, Y/n’s brother was murdered brutally, and their mother suffered a very public breakdown. The assailant in her brother’s case has yet to be found.

Chris Sturniolo’s murder was the fifth in a little less than two months. Police have yet to tell the public any of their leads in this string of serial murders, but have disclosed that they are far from closing these cases.

The article had only been out for an hour, and your Instagram and Tiktok were already being swarmed with notifications. So many, that you had to delete both apps off of your phone to keep it from crashing.

You hadn’t left your bed since that day, only to get something to eat and some water when you ran out—you couldn’t even go to the funeral. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer your phone, you couldn’t even answer the countless messages you scrolled through in the days following your best friend’s death.

Today was the day, you decided, that you were going to do something. Three weeks couldn’t have been too late to get your shit back together. You had woken up in the late afternoon and gotten into the shower, standing under the hot spray for what felt like forever and just allowing yourself to relax and release any tension in your body.

You had made a full meal for the first time since…that morning. You were nauseous the entire time you ate, but you had to do this. When your brother died, everyone told you that the best way to get through your grief was to continue your regular routine as much as possible. Filming a video was on your to do list. You weren’t going to post it, it was just for you to get back into the routine of talking to a camera.

Setting up your camera was the hardest part. You knew how to do it blindfolded by now, but the thought of doing anything like this, even if you weren’t going to post it, felt wrong, almost. It felt wrong to look into a camera and talk about that day, talk about your last day with Chris.

You sat down on your couch after pressing record and ran a hand over your face, finally looking into the lens and sighing.

“It’s been awhile.” You started, rolling your eyes at the corniness of your statement. “I don’t even know why I said that, I’m not even posting this.” You grumbled, dropping your head into your hands and carding your fingers through your hair. The burning in your throat started, and you continuously fought through the knot and forming tears.

You looked up again, hoping your eyes didn’t look as red as they felt. “I picked Chris up at ten fifteen, and we spent the entire day together. We went thrifting, as much as he complained the whole time.” You said, a ghost of a smile forming on your face as your eyes focused elsewhere.

“He, oh my God.” You said, chuckling to yourself and shaking your head. “He would throw whatever I had in my hands in the basket and ask if we were done yet, every time I picked something up. I don’t know what his problem was, considering he had gotten a few things too.” You said, sighing softly and glancing over at the camera.

“We went to lunch—that honestly sounds more fancy than it is, we stopped at In-n-Out—and we just came back to my house afterwards. We talked about…a lot of things.” You started, tears pooling in your eyes as you closed them and let yourself remember.

“We talked…we talked about life, and getting older.” You said, dropping your head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Fears, hopes and whatnot. We talked about everything.” You said, sighing softly as the remnants of Chris’ voice in your memory sang through.

“I don’t know what I want right now. I’m grateful that I’m doing so well, but in five years, where will I be?”

“It started getting late, so I took him home. He told me to come in if I wanted, but I…I was tired, I wanted to go home. He…he got out of the car, and I didn’t. I never...” You dropped your head in your hands again, your breathing labored as you fought off the guilt that had been deteriorating you for the last three weeks.

You lifted your head, about to stand and turn off your camera when your phone buzzed next to you. You sighed and flipped it over, frowning at the screen.

No Caller ID flashed before you. Usually you’d ignore the call, but something in you couldn’t resist as you slid the icon over and pressed it to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked, your voice quiet and shaky.

“It was your fault, you know.”

You’d never ended a call so fast, your phone hitting the couch as you stared down at it with wide eyes. The voice was distorted, completely unrecognizable, but familiar at the same time. This was some sick joke, it had to be. You took a deep breath and shook your head.

You stood and walked over to your camera on weak knees, stopping the recording and taking your camera off of the tripod. As you shut off the camera, your phone buzzed on the couch. A sigh left your lips as you placed the camera on the coffee table and ran your hands through your hair.

What was the worst that could happen, right? You picked up your phone, No Caller ID still flashing across the screen. You slid the icon over again and pressed your phone to your ear.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

Your entire body went on high alert. “Who is this?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“That’s not important, what’s important is I know what really happened that day.”

All of the air left your lungs as you shakily sat down on the couch. “What are you talking about?” You asked. A dark chuckle rang through the receiver, your heart pounding in your ears as you waited for an answer.

“You didn’t wait for him to get inside, did you, Sweetheart?”

A broken sob left your lips as you hung up the phone and dropped it, your whole body shaking with each shattered cry that escaped you. The guilt was too much, it was the only thing about your last day with him that you couldn’t bring yourself to even say.

You blame yourself for Chris’ death, if you had just waited a few moments for him to get in the door, none of this would have happened. It was killing you every single day, not knowing if your being there would have changed anything.

You ignored the next call, and went through your contacts. Your finger hovered over Matt’s name, your chest aching as you swiped out of his contact, clicked the one under it, and held your phone to your ear. Before Nick could even finish his greeting, you were straining to get your words out of your mouth through the knot in your throat.

“Nick, something is wrong. Please, please come over.” You whispered into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice steady as his silence on the other end made your skin crawl.

“I’ll be there soon.”

You put your phone on the couch and took your time pacing around your living room.

Nick would be here soon, there was no reason to panic. The person on the phone was nothing, no one. Your phone’s incessant buzzing pulled you out of your pacing. You were frustrated now, the guilt and pain that you’d been holding in for so long was finally out in the open and slapping you right in the face.

How did they know? You hadn’t told anyone, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it out loud.

It didn’t matter, the person on the phone had no idea what they were talking about, which sounded about as stupid as you thought it did, but it was the only thing keeping you from pulling your hair out of your head.

You pulled your phone from the couch and answered, the buzzing driving you up the wall.

“Listen, I’ve already called the police, and they’re tracing this call right no—”

The laughter on the other end cut you off, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as that sickening, metallic voice rang through the receiver.

“Oh, Sweetheart. We both know that isn’t true. I do know, however, that your little friend and boyfriend are on their way right now. Care to explain how they’re going to help you?”

Every hair on your body stood on end, your chest aching with the intensity of each beat against your rib cage. You fish-mouthed, unable to get any words out as the voice continued.

“How are they going to stop me, hm? How are they going to keep me from gutting you the same way I did your dear old friend, Chris? Or your brother?”

You froze, your gaze stuck to the floor as each word processed in your mind. “My brother?” You whimpered, a sinister chuckle vibrated against your ear.

“You heard me, Sweetheart. He put up quite the fight, too. More of a fight than your little friend.”

“Shut up!” You screamed into the receiver, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room. You could distinctly hear the shatter of your screen as you crumpled in on yourself.

Michael’s murder had completely destroyed you. Your entire world was uprooted, and your mom, your mom hasn’t been the same since. She spends her days sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window, rocking slowly back and forth in a daze.

You’d never shaken more in your life, your entire body twitching and fighting each movement you tried to make as you stood from the floor. You needed to get up, you couldn’t let yourself stay on the ground or you’d never move.

Before you reached your kitchen, the sound of a knock at the door had you jumping out of your skin. It took everything in you to walk to the door and peek out the peephole, ripping it open the moment you registered Nick and Matt standing on your porch.

You hadn’t said a word before they rushed in and wrapped you in the tightest hugs you’d ever experienced in your life. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you pushed the door shut and held them tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, both of their arms holding you as you completely crumbled. “I didn’t wait for him to get inside, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, he’d be here right now if it wasn’t for me. I’m so fucking sorry.” You rambled. Neither of them spoke, but their shoulders shaking softly against you answered the silent question of if they were listening.

When you finally pulled away, you were still shaking like a leaf. The guilt of holding it in for so long had been washed away, but the fear of that voice on the phone was still running rampant.

“No one blames you.” Nick said, his eyes rimmed red. “We’ve never blamed you. So you don’t need to worry about that.” You glanced at Matt, who’s eyes were still on the floor before you met Nick’s eyes again. “What happened?”

You sniffed and shook your head as you wiped at your face. “Nothing, it’s fine. It isn’t important.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around your abdomen as your eyes rested on Matt’s hunched frame. Nick sighed from where he stood and ran a hand over his face.

“I’ll leave you two to talk, but then I want to know what happened.” He said before he turned and walked towards the living room.

For what felt like hours, you and Matt stood across from each other in the mudroom of your childhood home, you staring at him, and him staring at the floor. When his eyes finally met yours, it felt as though your heart shattered and mended itself all at once. You hadn’t seen him since before Chris’ death, and the only message you’d sent him since then was telling him that the two of you needed to break up.

He looked as beautiful as he always had, but he looked different. Under his eyes were dusted in a dark purple, the whites of them tinged pink, his cheeks sunken in.

“Matty,” you whispered and took a step forward. He shook his head and looked back down at the floor.

“Why?”

It took everything in you not to wrap him in your arms and never let go. You knew exactly what he was asking you, and you knew the answer. It had taken these three weeks of you doing nothing more than surviving to realize you had no other reason to break up with Matt, other than the fact that looking at him would remind you of Chris, and you couldn’t handle it. It was selfish, and you could only imagine how he felt.

“I…I don’t have a good reason.”

Matt nodded and sniffed before looking up and meeting your eyes. The blue of his iris’ was striking against the red rimming his eyes. Your own eyes were burning as his gaze scanned over your face.

“Is it true?”

You frowned, confusion clouding your mind as he sighed and shook his head.

“What the article said, about you and Chris. Is it true? Was there…did you…”

You gasped as the realization hit you of what he was asking.

“Matt, what? I would never, I could never do that to you. I didn’t look at Chris like that, you know that.” You rambled on.

Matt nodded. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, just…a moment of weakness, I didn’t mean it.” He mumbled, taking a step closer to you. “Why did you end…us? I needed you, and you just…you shut me out.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose and shook your head. “I couldn’t bear looking at you and seeing him. I know, that’s selfish, and I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“I shattered the mirror in my bathroom the other night.”

You looked up, your eyebrows furrowed as Matt held up his hands. A gasp left your lips and you reached forward, delicately taking his cut up and bruised hands in yours. Before you could ask him why, he answered the silent question brokenly.

“Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw him.” You met his eyes again, and didn’t stop yourself as you pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace.

“I’m sorry, Matty. I should have been there.” You mumbled into his shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist as he breathed you in. Neither of you said anything, just held each other for as long as the other needed.

“Um, Y/n? Did you do this on purpose?”

You pulled away from Matt and turned around, seeing Nick holding your shattered phone in his hand. You sighed and nodded, the fear you’d completely forgotten about creeping up.

“I was getting prank phone calls, it’s not that big of a deal.” You mumbled, pulling away completely and walking towards the living room.

“What kind of prank phone calls would make you shatter your phone?” Matt asked quietly, you turned to face him and shrugged your shoulders, trying desperately to hide the shaking of your hands. You didn’t want to talk about it, you couldn't talk about it. If you talked about it, that would make it real.

Before you could even sit on the couch, Nick’s phone was went off in his pocket. Your heart pounded as he pulled it out and looked down at it with a frown.

“No Caller ID?” He mumbled, your jaw dropping as he pulled it to his ear. It was a few moments of silence before he met your eyes and handed it to you. “They asked for you.”

You whimpered as you took the phone and pressed it to your ear, not saying a word as the mechanical voice spoke again.

“You really thought smashing your phone would get rid of me, Sweetheart?”

“What do you want?!” You cried, the other line buzzing in silence for only a moment before Matt stepped forward and almost snatched the phone from your hand.

“I’m upstairs, come find me.”

The line beeped right as Matt grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear. You froze in your spot, Matt turning to face you and dropping Nick’s phone on the couch. He grabbed your shoulders and shook you once lightly.

“What did they say? Baby, breathe. What did they say?!” Matt asked, his grip on your shoulders tight as you fought off the panic.

“He’s in the house. He’s in the house.” You whispered, your eyes meeting Matt’s. Nick moved from his spot and stopped right next to Matt, his eyes wide as he scanned your face.

“Y/n, who is in the house?” He asked, his voice quiet in shock. You shook your head, nausea overtaking you as you pushed past Matt and sprinted to the kitchen. You couldn’t make it to the trash, turning and vomiting into the sink, your breaths heaving as you felt a warm hand rest on your back.

It took everything in you not to crumple to the floor as you looked up and shook your head.

“H-He told me he’s the one that killed Michael…and C-Chris.” You whispered the last word, your throat burning and your stomach lurching. Matt’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“How long have you been getting these phone calls?” He asked, his voice shaky as Nick handed you a bottle of water.

“It’s only been the last couple of hours, I thought it was some sort of sick prank until—”

A shatter from upstairs had your entire body tensing, your breath catching in your throat. Nick’s head whipped to the stairs as Matt reached for a knife and turned away.

“What are you doing?” You asked, grabbing his arm tightly and making him face you. Nick had his phone dialed and already pressed to his ear, speaking quickly to the 9-1-1 operator.

“I’m fucking going up there.” He said, pulling his arm from your grip and continuing his way towards the stairs.

“Matt, are you stupid?” Nick asked, stepping in front of the staircase as he hung up the phone. “The police are being dispatched, don’t do anything rash.” Matt shoved past Nick and ascended the stairs, his knuckles white on the handle of the knife. Nick groaned and faced you fully. “What are we gonna do?” He asked.

“We can’t just let him go up there by himself.” You whispered, walking past Nick and slowly stepping up the stairs.

“Jesus, you guys are gonna get us killed.” Nick grumbled from behind you. You heard a shuffle in the kitchen and turned, seeing him follow you up with a knife in his hand. “What? One of us had to grab something.” He whispered. You faced forward again, listening for any bump or creak that could indicate where Matt or the man that was in your house were.

It was silent as you walked through the upstairs. Each door you passed was closed, the only sound upstairs being the sound of Nick’s and your footsteps, and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Matt?” You called out, the back of Nick’s hand hitting your shoulder. You looked at him, bewilderment etched into your face.

“Have you never seen a scary movie? Calling out in a dark house is the number one way to fucking die.” He said through his teeth. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to fire back.

“Get off of me!”

You jumped, your head whipping down the hallway to see a door slam. “Matt!” You shouted, running without thinking towards the door and shoving it open. The moment you stepped into the center of the room, you knew something was wrong. The door clicked behind you, and you froze in place.

“Look what we have here.”

You turned, your eyes meeting Matt’s. His entire demeanor changed, the heartbroken boy you’d seen before was gone. In his place, stood what you could only describe as a monster. His eyes were dark, his smirk sinister, and his shoulders were square.

“Matty?” You asked, Nick coming from behind him with an almost identical smirk.

The both of them chuckled and looked between each other. Nick stepped forward, causing you to take a quick step back.

“Oh, Honey. Matty’s been gone for a while.” His hooded eyes stared you down as you fully processed what was truly happening. The both of them had tricked you.

You took in a shaky breath past the knot in your throat as you took another step back.

“You?” You exhaled, your eyes switching between them as their smirks grew impossibly wider. Matt rolled his eyes and looked over to Nick.

“Us?” He mocked, meeting your eyes and taking a step closer to you. “Yes, Baby. Us. Is that so surprising?” He teased, your eyes brimming with hot, salty tears. The cool air in the room had them burning, and your throat felt like it was on fire.

“You two were behind the murders all along?” You asked, your voice barely reaching a whisper as they moved closer to you almost strategically, boxing you in with each step they took.

Nick chuckled and nodded his head, his eyes never leaving yours as he cocked his head to the side. “She’s catching up, Matt. Yes, every single one.” He said, his voice thick with venom.

“But why?” You whimpered, your back hitting the wall. You were cornered, you couldn’t get past them no matter how hard you tried. Nick and Matt’s eyes were wicked as they watched you, Matt’s smirk growing as he glanced over at Nick.

“Hear that, Nick? She wants a motive.” He said, his eyes meeting yours again. “It isn’t enough that we just felt like it?”

“You killed Michael in cold blood, just because you felt like it?” You spat. Nick quirked an eyebrow and lightly ran the tip of his finger over the blade of the knife he was holding.

“See, now you’re getting it. Not everyone needs a motive, some people are just sick and twisted.” He pouted at the end of his sentence, anger flushing through you and coating your skin in heat.

“And Chris?” You asked. Matt chuckled and shook his head.

“You really can’t be that dense, Baby.” He said.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” You said through gritted teeth.

“It was only a distraction. We were getting sloppy, and what’s better to get the cops off of our case than getting rid of one of us?” Nick interrupted. You shook your head.

“Murder isn’t a distraction, you sick fucks.” You spat, looking around the room for any escape.

Matt chuckled, and flipped the blade in his hand. “Oh, Baby. You really aren’t understanding, are you?”

Before you could spit in his face, the door behind them was pushed open, your eyes shifting to the shadowed figure walking into the room. Your heart pounded in your chest as realization slowly set in, a broken cry leaving your lips as you shook your head.

“No.” You whispered.

The white mask on his face would have been comical if every hair on your body wasn’t standing on end. You watched each movement closely, your knees buckling as you slid to the floor. The wood was ice cold as the man crouched down in front of you. He pulled the mask from his face, your choked sob being caught in your throat as you shook your head and looked down at the floor.

His warm finger rested on your chin and he lifted it up until your eyes met his, a broken whimper leaving your lips as you met the familiar blue eyes you’d looked into a million times before.

“What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” Chris said, his voice gravelly and rough as it left his smirking lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

tags: @lvrsparadise , @ssturniolo , @floofparker , @cat-loves-music , @geniejunn , @its-jennarose , @dwntwn-strnlo , @20nugs , @hiraethlimerence , @lavieenvalentina , @strniolo , @toyourloves , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @tylerscreat0r , @angelcake-222 , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @lovelysturniolo

[luv-lock]

Can I ask why you hate Tim 😭 I’m genuinely curious im just getting into batfam lore and I see so many ppl hating on him

I don’t hate Tim as a character—I used to love him. He was one of my favorite Robins for years because of how well-written and unique he was. But over the past 6-7 years, the writing has completely ruined him.

Tim started as the smartest Robin, someone who stood out because of his brains and determination. He wasn’t chosen to be Robin because of tragedy or by accident—he earned it. He figured out Batman and Robin’s identities on his own, proving how intelligent and capable he was. He became Robin not because he needed Batman, but because Batman needed him. That dynamic made him special.

But now? He’s gone from being the 'smartest Robin' to what DC themselves called the 'always-online bisexual.' That’s literally how they described him in their marketing, and it shows how little respect they have for his character. Instead of focusing on his intelligence, his strategic mind, or his growth as a hero, they’ve reduced him to a walking label. His sexuality is the only thing they emphasize now, and that’s not representation—that’s lazy writing. Not to mention the arts sucks. The artists who make comics for him are coming straight out of Wattpad. Look at this shit:

The art sucks. Now compare this trash to these:

Fucking beautiful. I can just look at it and be happy. Idk about others but it's obvious which one I'm going to buy.

And the change wasn’t organic. Tim was written as straight for 40 years. He had deep, meaningful relationships with female characters, especially Stephanie Brown. Their relationship was one of the healthiest and most developed in the Batfam. They supported each other, they had chemistry, and it felt natural. But then the writers threw it all away. His new relationship feels hollow and forced, like it only exists to make him a bisexual character.

Don’t get me wrong—representation is important. But when it’s done this way, it feels like a checkbox, not real development. A character’s sexuality isn’t a personality trait or an arc. Tim was more than his sexuality before, but now it feels like that’s all DC cares about.

Compare this to other Robins:

Dick Grayson (the first Robin):

Dick is the OG, but when he debuted, people didn’t take him seriously. Back then, he was seen as a sidekick—a kid in bright tights following Batman around. When DC aged him up and transitioned him into Nightwing, he became a leader, a symbol of independence, and the heart of the Batfamily. Now he’s beloved, but it took years for fans to respect him.

Jason Todd (the second Robin):

Jason was hated when he first replaced Dick. Fans thought he was just a cheap copy—another circus kid in a Robin costume. His personality rubbed people the wrong way, and the backlash was so bad that DC actually let fans vote to kill him off. But when Jason was brought back as Red Hood, his character was transformed. He’s now a fan-favorite because of his anger, his moral complexity, and his strained relationship with Bruce. Fans went from hating him to loving him, but it took a lot of work to get there.

Damian Wayne (the current Robin):

Damian started as an arrogant, entitled brat. Fans found him unlikable, and many hated that he replaced Tim as Robin. But DC invested in his growth. Over time, Damian became more humble, learned to work with others, and developed his own unique dynamic with Bruce. Now, he’s seen as one of the most compelling Robins.

Tim, however, had the opposite journey. When he debuted, he was instantly loved. He wasn’t a tragic orphan or a rebellious anti-hero. He was just a smart, determined kid who figured out Batman’s identity and stepped up because he believed Batman needed Robin. Fans loved that. His comics as Robin sold for years—something Dick and Jason never achieved when they were Robin.

But now? Tim has gone from being one of the most beloved Robins to a joke. DC doesn’t know what to do with him, so they’ve reduced him to being the 'always-online bisexual' (their own words). His entire character now revolves around his sexuality. A character’s sexuality isn’t character development. I only care about sexuality when it's comes to watching porn. Tim was so much more than that. He was the smartest Robin, the strategic genius who could outthink even Bruce. But now, that part of him is gone.

He’s not Robin anymore, but he doesn’t have a clear role or identity. While Dick is Nightwing, Jason is Red Hood, and Damian is Robin, Tim is stuck in this weird limbo. DC hasn’t given him a meaningful arc—they’re just writing him for the sake of saying, 'Look, we have a bisexual character.' And I as a bisexual person found it very offensive.

What makes this even worse is that Tim’s been overshadowed by Damian. DC created Damian partly because they hated Tim, and now Damian has taken over everything that made Tim special. He’s a tactical genius, a skilled fighter, and even looks like Tim now. I mean look:

If it wasn't for his girlfriend in these pictures and the art style I couldn't tell if it's Tim or Damian.

Tim deserved better. He lost most of his real fans and these days his fans are people who are into yaoi. He used to be one of the smartest, most relatable characters in the Batfam. But instead of building on that, DC has turned him into a caricature. That’s why I’ve lost respect for how they’ve handled him—not because of his sexuality, but because they’ve erased everything that made him great and replaced it with shallow writing. He's just an extra now that is better dead. And if DC itself don't care about it's characters then why should I? We have enough good comics with good art for Dick, Jason and Damian that I don't even think about Tim anymore.

[victonair]

Thinking about a fake and apathetic!reader that meets the opposite of them as a child: Azul Ashengrotto. Born and raised in the Coral Sea, they are quite literally the picture-perfect mermay that is an object of everyone’s envy and adoration in their school and community. However, underneath the picture-perfect facade, they are nothing short of apathetic and almost emotionless. Every action they do, every word they utter is coordinated and done in their benefit and only theirs alone.

Initially, they don’t give a single thought to the resident crybaby octopus that almost everyone either bullied or pitied, but when they are offered a cruel bet to pretend to be the little octopus’ friend - they accept it after mulling over the benefits which was for one thing: their entertainment. And so they begin the cruel bet by decisively earning his trust through many ways.

And when they eventually become the only one to earn Azul’s elusive trust, his only friend, it is only then when they realize their interest in him has been built to the point that he has captivated them (not romantically, not yet). And when the realization hits them, so begins a slow-burn and descent into obsession and romantic affairs between the both of them through the years.

I’m writing a full fanfiction of this on ao3, but I just wanted to post this concept here. Here’s the working introduction:

“Do you believe in fate, Ashengrotto?”

And for a moment time seemed to still as soon as his eyes met yours.

For the grand total of your life, you had always spoken lies and deceit; only uttering those words to please the rest of the blank faces that surrounded you - you had always seen people in black and white, and well, you were always blunt in your assumptions and analyses towards people of different maturities and calibers. It was your apathetic nature that shielded you from any harm that life was known for giving, and it was also the same disposition that proved to attract people to what they thought as ‘mysterious’.

It was foolishness, of course, but was it not curiosity that opened Pandora’s box? It is humanity’s unstoppable curiosity that led to the discovery of the horrid monstrosities that lay within the box; and what’s to say you are not made of the same vile material as the wickedness that lie in the same box?

You owe it to no one to speak the unspeakable truth of your thoughts, identity, and reality that you choose to keep hidden. And it would stay that way as long as the sands of time kept dropping within the hourglass.

That was until of course you met a certain bullied crybaby octopus that you had always thought of as pathetic in your class.

“W-Why do you ask?”

There was tremble in his voice; the way his eyes stared into you indicated his nervousness - it was as if he was Pandora, herself, about to open the box that contained all of humanities tragedies and yet it was the unquenchable hunger in his eyes to discover all of the things that made up the entirety of your being, no matter how vile it many be, that made him dare to ask - to inch forward and unlock the box of monstrosities.

“I have no belief in fate or whatever being that exists to torture and bless; I refuse to believe or worship anything that goes along the lines of that, whether it be true or the false idols that our people create.”

You pause for a moment and his breath is held for as long as you hold your silence.

“I will cut fate’s strings itself and carve my way to what I want- as long as I exist, I will never succumb to any unworldly being’s plans for me. I will resist till I am bloodied and impaired- just as long as I can obtain what I want.

Darkness permeates through the deep dark cavern of the sea. And it is only him and you that exist at this singular moment in Azul’s foolish mind. The way you look at him is indescribable as your voice and laughter echoes through his ears, forever cementing itself there.

“You should be careful around me, Ashengrotto. Your curiosity may lead you to unsavory conclusions.” He is unable to look away from your penetrating gaze; it is as if you are able to see through him, “My interest is nothing short of dangerous and you have captivated it.”

And for once in your life, you tell nothing but the truth.

Or rather

You, a mermay in the Coral Sea, raised to be fake and apathetic to everything, meet the opposite of yourself as a child. Initially thinking Azul is pathetic, it is eventual interest that drives you to complete obsession through the years as you grow up with him.

And who’s to say his greedy self isn’t as obsessed as you?

-

Note: Sorry for not posting for a long time - I got admitted to the psych ward and my mental health went downhill. I haven’t written in months and this is my first long-term project that I will be posting on ao3! Thank you for your patience!