#am i entering my northern arc

[kitchensinksurrealism]

sudden realisation that if I let my accent go a bit more northern then everything I say sounds so much clearer?

[heliosunny]

Hoshina with the reader who succumbs in Stockholm syndrome when he keeps them by himself ends up relying on him and clinging to him.

MY STAR Yandere!soshirohoshina x Reader

The clink of steel on steel rang out in the training grounds as you dodged another strike from your opponent. You pivoted swiftly, your blade catching the light as it sliced through the air in a perfect arc, forcing your sparring partner to stumble back in defeat.

“Not bad” came a voice behind you, smooth and calm yet tinged with authority.

You turned, breathing heavily, to see none other than Soshiro Hoshina. His dark eyes scanned you, keen and observant, as if he were dissecting every move you had made in the fight.

“Thank you, sir!” you replied, standing straighter under his gaze.

“You’ve got talent” he said, stepping closer, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. “But raw skill is just the beginning. You’ll need discipline to make it out there.”

“I understand.” you said, though his words felt less like advice and more like a warning.

Hoshina’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but there was something in his expression that made you uneasy. “Good. Keep that fire alive, and you’ll go far.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to you like that -calculated, deliberate, as though every word carried a weight only he understood. Others might have brushed it off as encouragement, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that his attention wasn’t entirely innocent. --------- A few weeks later, Hoshina summoned you to his office. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, as you entered.

“I’ve got a mission for you” he said, handing you a folder. His tone was casual, but the sharp glint in his eyes told you this was no ordinary task.

You opened the folder and scanned the contents. “Reconnaissance in the Northern Sector?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“It’s a critical area” he explained. “We’ve had reports of Kaiju activity, but no confirmation yet. You’ll be alone, so you’ll need to be careful.”

You hesitated. Solo missions weren’t unheard of, but this felt sudden. Still, you didn’t want to show doubt. “Understood, sir. I won’t let you down.”

Hoshina’s smile returned, wider this time. “I knew I could count on you.”

The mission seemed straightforward, until you realized, too late, that it was anything but...

The forest was eerily silent as you moved through the dense underbrush. Your comms crackled with static, and the map you’d been given seemed almost useless. Landmarks didn’t match, and the terrain grew increasingly unfamiliar.

By the third day, you knew something was wrong.

“HQ, this is Unit 217” you said into your communicator. “Do you copy?”

Nothing. Just silence.

Panic began to set in, but you pushed it down. You couldn’t afford to lose focus. You just needed to keep moving, to find a way back.

But then the ground beneath you gave way.

You fell hard, tumbling into a ravine hidden by thick foliage. Pain shot through your body as you hit the bottom, the world spinning around you. For a moment, all you could do was lie there, gasping for breath.

“Looks like I got here just in time.”

The voice was unmistakable. You forced your eyes open to see Hoshina standing above you, his silhouette framed by the dim light filtering through the trees.

“Sir?” you croaked, confusion and relief mingling in your voice.

He crouched beside you, his expression calm. “You’ve been out here for days. You’re lucky I found you.”

Before you could respond, your vision blurred, and darkness swallowed you. -------- When you woke, you were in a small, rustic cabin. The air smelled of wood smoke and herbal tea, and a fire crackled in the hearth. Your body ached, but you were alive.

Hoshina sat at a small table, his sword resting within arm’s reach. He didn’t look up as you stirred.

“You’re awake.” he said simply.

“Where am I?” you asked, your voice hoarse.

“Safe” he replied, pouring tea into a small cup. He walked over and set it on the table beside you. “Drink. You need to recover.”

You stared at him, suspicion creeping in. “Why didn’t you call for backup? HQ would’ve sent a team-”

“I handled it” he interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “The mission was compromised. I couldn’t risk anyone else getting caught up in it.”

The explanation didn’t sit right with you, but you were too weak to argue.

Days passed, and the more you recovered, the more questions arose. Every time you brought up leaving or contacting HQ, Hoshina brushed it off.

“It’s too dangerous out there” he’d say. “You’re better off staying here until things settle down.” ---------- You didn’t know how long you had been in the cabin. Days blurred into weeks, the monotony broken only by Hoshina’s presence. He was always there, calm, collected, and unsettlingly composed.

At first, you tried to resist. You questioned him endlessly.

“When are we going back to HQ?” you demanded one day, standing by the window as rain drummed against the glass.

Hoshina sat at the small wooden table, sharpening his blade. He didn’t look up. “We’re not. Not yet.”

“Why not?” you pressed, frustration bubbling in your chest.

He finally raised his eyes, pinning you with a gaze that made your breath catch. “Because it’s not safe. I’ve already explained this.”

“You’ve explained nothing!” you shot back, your voice trembling. “I don’t even know why I’m here!”

Hoshina stood, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He crossed the room and stopped just a foot away from you, his presence looming.

“You’re here...” he said quietly, “because out there, you’re a pawn. Here, you’re protected. Do you understand that?”

“No” you whispered, though your resolve was wavering.

He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm in a gesture that was almost tender. “You will.”

The following weeks were a battle of wills. Every time you tried to leave, Hoshina was there, blocking your path with an ease that was almost mocking.

One morning, you attempted to sneak out while he was outside chopping wood. You’d made it to the edge of the clearing when a hand clamped down on your shoulder.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice calm but with an edge that sent a chill down your spine.

You spun around to face him, your heart racing. “You can’t keep me here forever!”

Hoshina tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think you understand the situation. Out there, you’re a target. Why is that so hard for you to accept?”

“Because I don’t need you nor your protection!” you snapped.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You just don’t see it yet.”

His words stuck with you, gnawing at your mind as the days dragged on.

------- Months passed. Hoshina’s control over your life became absolute. He dictated your routine, training you rigorously during the day and watching over you at night. Slowly, your resistance began to falter.

One evening, as the two of you sat by the fire, you finally spoke the words you’d been avoiding.

“Why me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hoshina looked at you, his expression softening in a way that was almost disarming. “Because you’re different. Stronger than the others. I saw it the moment we met.”

“But why keep me here?”

“Because out there, they’d use you” he said simply. “And I won’t let that happen.”

His conviction was unsettling, but a part of you wanted to believe him. After all, he had saved you. Again and again, he had been there when no one else was.

And so, when he told you that it was time to return, you didn’t argue. ----------- Your reappearance at HQ was met with shock and suspicion. Mina Ashiro was the first to confront you.

“You were missing for months.” she said, her tone sharp as she studied you. “What the hell happened out there?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Hoshina stepped in before you could speak.

“They were ambushed” he said smoothly, his voice carrying the authority of someone who wasn’t to be questioned. “I found them barely alive. It’s a miracle they survived.”

Mina’s eyes narrowed as she turned to you. “Is that true?”

You hesitated, the weight of Hoshina’s presence pressing down on you. “Yes” you said finally, your voice steady but devoid of emotion. “He saved me.”

Mina didn’t look convinced, but she let it drop. --------- Life at HQ felt surreal after so much time in isolation. You followed Hoshina’s orders without hesitation, your loyalty to him absolute. The others noticed the change in you, the way you stayed close to him, the way you seemed almost... dependent on him.

One evening, as you stood on the training grounds, Mina approached you again.

“You’ve changed.” she said bluntly.

“I’ve grown stronger.” you replied, not meeting her gaze.

“That’s not what I mean..” she said, stepping closer. “You’re not the same person who left for that mission.”

You didn’t respond. What could you say? She was right. --------- Hoshina’s presence became your anchor. He was always there, guiding you, watching over you. You clung to his approval, his praise, as though your very existence depended on it.

“You’re doing well” he said one evening as you sparred with another recruit. “Better than I expected.”

His words sent a rush of warmth through you, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Thank you..” you said, your voice soft.

Hoshina stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “This is where you belong...” he said, his gaze locking onto yours.

And in that moment, you believed him. ------- The air was thick with tension as your squad prepared to engage a group of Kaiju that had been spotted near the outskirts of the city. The mission was simple: eliminate the threat and secure the area.

Hoshina had left on a separate mission, leaving you in charge. You hadn’t expected to lead, but the others deferred to you without hesitation. They knew your strength, and despite your quiet demeanor, they followed your orders.

However, cracks in the team’s cohesion began to show.

“Why are we even listening to them?” one of the recruits, Haruto, snapped as the team regrouped near an abandoned factory. His voice was sharp, cutting through the tense silence. “They’ve been acting weird ever since they got back.”

“Shut it, Haruto!” snapped Aya, a veteran member of the squad. “They’ve proven themselves more than you ever have.”

Haruto glared at her, his hand tightening around his weapon. “I’m just saying. We don’t even know what happened to them out there. For all we know, they could’ve been compromised.”

“That’s enough!” you said firmly, stepping between them. “We’re in the middle of a mission. Focus on the Kaiju, not each other.”

Haruto sneered but didn’t push further. Aya shot you a grateful look before the team moved out.

After the hunt was complete, you called a meeting. The team sat in a circle inside a temporary base, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of a single lantern.

“We can’t afford to fall apart like that” you began, your tone calm but firm. “If we don’t trust each other, we’re as good as dead.”

Haruto crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. “Easy for you to say. You’ve got Hoshina backing you up.”

“I didn’t survive because of him...” you said, meeting his gaze. “I survived because I refused to give up. And that’s what we need to do—stick together, no matter what.”

Aya nodded. “They’re right. We’re a team. If we don’t have each other’s backs, who will?”

Haruto sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. I’ll try to keep my mouth shut next time.”

“Good.” you said, allowing yourself a small smile. “Because we’ve got bigger things to worry about than each other’s pasts.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt like you had a handle on things. The team was starting to come together, and for a moment, you felt a spark of hope. ---------- Hoshina returned the next day, his presence as commanding as ever. You met him at the gates, ready to report on the mission’s success.

“Everything went smoothly” you said, handing him the report.

He glanced at it briefly before looking at you. “And the team?”

“They’re fine” you replied. “There was some tension at first, but we worked it out.”

“Worked it out?” he repeated, his tone neutral but with an edge that made you uneasy.

“Yes. I talked to them, and we came to an understanding.”

Hoshina’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, he said nothing. Then he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Good work.”

--------- Over the next few days, you noticed a change in Hoshina. He watched you more closely, his gaze lingering during training sessions and meetings.

“You’re getting soft” he said one evening as the two of you stood alone on the training grounds.

“What?” you asked, caught off guard.

“You’re spending too much time worrying about their feelings.” he continued, his voice low and measured. “That’s not what makes a good soldier.”

“I’m trying to keep the team together....” you argued.

“And that’s your first mistake,” he said, stepping closer. “loyalty to the mission comes first. Emotions are a distraction.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off.

“I taught you to be strong” he said, his tone sharp. “Don’t forget who you are.”

-------- The next mission came quickly, a massive Kaiju had been spotted in the industrial district, and your team was deployed to handle it.

The battle was fierce, the Kaiju’s massive form tearing through buildings as your squad fought to bring it down. You moved with precision, your blade slicing through its tough hide, but something felt off.

In the chaos, you heard Hoshina’s voice over the comms.

“There’s a traitor among you” he said, his tone calm but chilling.

You froze. “What are you talking about?”

“Haruto” he continued. “He’s been feeding information to the enemy. He’s the reason your last mission was compromised.”

“That’s impossible....” you said, your heart pounding.

“Think about it” Hoshina pressed. “He’s been questioning you, undermining you. Do you really think that’s a coincidence?”

You glanced at Haruto, who was locked in combat with the Kaiju. Doubt crept into your mind, fueled by Hoshina’s words.

“You know what needs to be done” Hoshina said.

“No” you whispered, shaking your head. “There has to be another way.”

“There isn’t” Hoshina said, his voice cold. “If you don’t take him out, he’ll destroy everything we’ve worked for.” The battle raged on, but your focus was entirely on Haruto. He was fighting with everything he had, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind him.

“Do it!” Hoshina’s voice commanded.

Your hands trembled as you raised your weapon. Your mind screamed at you to stop, but Hoshina’s words echoed louder.

In one swift motion, you struck.

Haruto turned, his eyes wide with shock and betrayal as he collapsed to the ground.

The Kaiju fell moments later, but the victory felt hollow. --------- The team was silent as they regrouped. No one questioned what had happened. Hoshina’s influence was too strong, his authority unquestionable.

Later, as you sat alone in the barracks, Hoshina appeared.

“You did the right thing.” he said, his voice soft but firm.

You didn’t respond, your hands still stained with Haruto’s blood.

Hoshina crouched beside you, his hand resting on your shoulder. “This is who you are” he said. “Strong. Unyielding. Loyal.”

You looked at him, your heart heavy with guilt and confusion.

And yet, despite everything, you found yourself nodding.

Because in the end, he was all you had left, your guiding star.

---------

It's a bit different to what I've got in mind the moment I received the request. I was thinking of a weak reader but instead I made them strong and obedient :))))) I added extra characters so don't question their names ahaha :P I didn't know I would receive Hoshina's requests after his first fic, ty yall for sending me these!

[blacksheep28]

https://www.tumblr.com/blacksheep28/782041167684616193/httpswwwtumblrcomblacksheep28781947593315041?source=share

It had been two years since he hatched when Shen Jiu finally took on a humanoid form. His hair was a pale ice blue, and beautiful patterns of frost traced over his skin. Pitch black eyes and talons finished him off. No feathers, but it was a suitable form in a world where the more human one looked the more power one was assumed to hold.

[He should have a new name,] I chirped. [Ask if he will be Shen Xue. He doesn't have to be his past.] Airplane rambled nervously offering it, but Shen Xue did accept it. He seemed pleased with the offering, lighter somehow with his new name.

I gave them all a year to settle into their lives in the Ice Palace. The Northern Desert was thriving under the trio's guidance. I was immensely pleased in getting to watch the various shenanigans that happened. I could enjoy all the beauty of the Northern Desert, the flora, the fauna, the different species of demons. And of course the never ending disasters that Airplane was always scrambling to stay on top of while Shen Xue judged him in the background. If Shen Xue sometimes stepped in before Airplane had to scramble, it was a coincidence. Shen Xue was a free bird, he wasn't attached to the palace like his former fellow Peak Lord's ex disciple was.

Then I gave the message I had been dreading. It wasn't the worst thing that could be, but I still wished I could avoid it. [Mandatory Quest: Into the Endless Abyss is due in one year.]

"What? Mandatory? You've never given one of those before!"

[If Protagonist Luo Binghe does not enter the Endless Abyss User002 will die. User001 is required to open the Endless Abyss.]

"Why me?"

[This System can only influence the world through User001. Character: Shang Qinghua is the original trigger for plotline: Endless Abyss. Without Character: Shang Qinghua, Protagonist Luo Binghe will not have his demonic seal broken or enter the Endless Abyss.]

"And User002 can't do this job?"

[User002 has an original system. User002 cannot deviate from the plot. Character: Shen Qingqiu does not open the Endless Abyss, so User002 cannot act to do so.]

"I am lucky I got a system like you then," Airplane muttered. "So I have to do this or my transmigration bro dies, huh?"

[This System cannot alter the outcome. (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)]

"Got it." Airplane took a deep breath. "I was not planning to attack the Immortal Alliance Conference, but guess I have an invasion to plan."

[Host is not required to follow initial draft of how Endless Abyss is opened.]

"How else am I supposed to pull this off? Unless you're suggesting I kidnap the protagonist and drop him into the abyss myself. And since I want to keep living, I'd really like to not do that."

[Host could reveal the presence of this System and explain he is being asked to act. Or he could frame it as wanting to remove a half demon from among cultivators and faking his death so he won't be sought.]

"Mobei Jun would be furious if he learns about the System. He would hate the idea of something like that being beyond his reach."

[〣( ºΔº )〣 This System hasn't done anything to warrant harm from Character Mobei Jun!]

"You're an invisible system telling me what to do, that would be enough."

[(ᵕ´╥﹏╥`)ㅅ Host would beg for this System yes?]

"He might listen to me. Especially if I can persuade him you're useful. And you have been. Ah, but if Binghe's getting so close to the Abyss arc, that means he's almost done blackening! It's good that we've moved into the Northern Desert, I don't want to be on his hit list. But what if he finds out we framed him to be pushed into the Abyss? No, we can't risk that. We need a better cover! Attacking the Immortal Alliance Conference will work better, that will make the breaking of his seal more coincidental."

[Optional Quest: Death of the Palace Master,] I chimed.

Airplane huffed a silent laugh. "Yeah, that would suit him, wouldn't it? Surprised you would suggest it, but if we're attacking Huan Hua Palace we might as well make it clean."

He headed to Mobei Jun and told him his idea. Mobei Jun was clearly uneasy at the mention of Huan Hua Palace, but willing to take revenge for what had been done so long ago when he was a child. Shen Xue came in at some point and chimed in with his own acerbic comments to help improve the plan. Perhaps once he would have hated them for it, but Shen Xue wouldn't deny that he had turned from the cultivators he once knew anymore. Not when they were so pleased with his imposter.

It should have been more difficult for them to arrange the invasion. Airplane had never been Peak Lord Shang Qinghua after all. There was no inside line for them to use. But all of them were intelligent, and Mobei Jun trusted that Airplane had a good reason for helping to arrange an invasion against the cultivators.

A black moon rhinoceros python was the one to break the seal on Luo Binghe, just like the original. None of them needed to get close to him at all. Shen Xue was the one to kill the Old Palace Master, freezing his heart inside his chest. Once he died and Shen Xue thawed it out it looked like the heart had simply stopped out of shock. A lie, but there was no one who would investigate closely enough to figure that out.

https://www.tumblr.com/blacksheep28/782219485245538304/httpswwwtumblrcomblacksheep28782174984141406?source=share

[ilikestuff69]

Live Action ATLA Rant

(Spoilers obviously)

tw: mentions of abuse

(If there is a better way to word that trigger warning or if I missed anything please let me know)

This rant is gonna be about the Agni Kai against Zuko in Ozai in the live action adaptation of Avatar: the Last Airbender.

Now first off I want to say I’m well aware that adaptations will change things and I am all for that as long as the change makes the story better. Like I love the changes made to Bill and Frank and Henry and Sam in the Last of Us adaptation. But I will complain if the changes made weaken the story being told. And that’s what happened with Ozai and Zuko’s Agni Kai. So here are my reasons as to why I don’t like the changes made. (Also if you like the changes made, that’s totally fine, this is just for me to rant about something bugging me).

1. Zuko fights back in the Agni Kai. Now this is gonna probably be the most of the rant so let’s break it down.

- Zuko wouldn’t have been banished: in the original Zuko was banished because he literally refused to fight in the Agni Kai and it was seen as dishonorable and an insult to the Fire Nation. But having him fight back is him engaging and honoring the Fire Nation tradition. Yeah, he lost, but he wouldn’t be banished for that. When Zuko and Zhao have their fight and Zuko wins, Zhao isn’t exiled, Zuko wins and gets to put Zhao in his place. Losing is not dishonorable and Ozai shouldn’t have been able to banish him for that. But that’s very nitpicky, I’ll be honest about that, so let’s move to the next point.

- It takes away from Zuko’s character arc. Zuko isn’t a violent person. He was raised by his mother to be kind. He stood out in his family because of this. So when the Agni Kai comes, he refuses to fight his father and is marked and banished for doing so and the only way to earn his honor back is to find the Avatar, which is a seemingly impossible task to do. Being banished and abandoned by his family (besides Iroh) leads Zuko down a dark and violent path searching for the Avatar for years because he’s been to led to believe that violence is the only way his family will forgive and accept him. Then, in season two, Zuko and Iroh are branded traitors for helping the Northern Water Tribe which causes Zuko’s search for the Avatar to stop. While in hiding, Zuko sees firsthand all the damage the Fire Nation has done to the other nations. Also him and Iroh are able to set up a pretty normal life for themselves and Zuko actually seems happy. But then, when Azula promises that Ozai will be proud if Zuko helped her kill the avatar, Zuko relapses back into his violent tendencies and helps Azula, betraying Iroh in the process. When it appears that Aang had been killed, Zuko is welcomed home and crowned the prince of the Fire Nation once again. So he’s happy now, right? He got everything he wanted, right? No he’s not happy because he realizes that this isn’t actually what he wants. In fact Zuko hates himself. He hates himself for allowing and contributing to all the violence the Fire Nation is committing against the other Nations. He hates himself for betraying his uncle, the only person in his family who actually wanted to help him. He hates himself for doing all these awful things just to earn the approval of his father, a man who saw Zuko as an embarrassment for just being who he was. He hates himself for forgetting what his mother taught him and becoming more like Azula and Ozai. That’s why, when Zuko turns on Ozai, he tells him that the Fire Nation needs to enter an era of peace and kindness to make up for the era of violence they’ve been in for years, but they can never do that as long as Ozai is the Fire Lord and that’s why Zuko joins the Avatar and help him take down Ozai. Zuko wasn’t violent growing up. He wasn’t like Azula or Ozai. He stood out because he was kind. Ozai saw that as a weakness and when Zuko begged to not fight him, Ozai saw Zuko as an embarrassment who needed to be punished causing Zuko to go down the path he goes down in the series.Having Zuko choose to fight Ozai in the Agni Kai feels like it negates so much of that.

- Zuko almost wins. In the live action adaptation, when Zuko fights against Ozai, they imply that Zuko is strong enough to beat Ozai. I’m sorry, what? Compared to Ozai, Iroh and Azula, Zuko is arguably the weakest firebender in the family. He learns sword fighting so he didn’t have to only rely on his firebending. How is Zuko able to almost beat Ozai in a one-on-one? It also just looks bad from a writing standpoint. In the first season, you are showing that the main villain could easily lose to his son? Ozai should seem unbeatable. When Aang fights Ozai in the finale, Aang almost loses to Ozai until Aang accesses the Avatar State. Ozai shouldn’t be almost losing fights to children who don’t have god-level powers.

- There was a better way to have a fight if they wanted to have a fight. If the creators really wanted to show more of a fight between Ozai and Zuko, they should’ve had Zuko stay on the defensive for the whole fight. Have Ozai be relentless against Zuko as Zuko is just barely able to avoid or block the attacks, while trying to get his father to stop. Not only doesn’t it make Ozai look more ruthless, but it makes you feel more for Zuko as this child tries desperately to stop his father from hurting him only to inevitably fail. And you can still have Ozai express disappointment in Zuko for not even trying to fight back, seeing it as Zuko disrespecting their tradition. But idk, I’m not a writer.

2. They make Ozai look sad when he burns Zuko’s face. I’m sorry, but why are we trying to make Ozai look sympathetic? He’s an abuser. He’s actively choosing to burn his child. He’s not doing it because he’s forced to or anything. It was his decision. Sometimes villains don’t have to be complex to be good. Ozai is an evil man who abuses his children constantly. He doesn’t get to look remorseful as he’s doing it.

3. The Agni Kai was so much smaller in the adaptation. In the original, the Agni Kai took place in front of hundreds of people and this is important to Zuko’s character because not only was he punished and exiled for how he acted in the fight, but he was also humiliated as all those people watched as his father punished him for wanting to not fight his father. Making it such a small event just makes it feel less impactful than it could’ve been.

4. Having Iroh speak out against the Agni Kai takes away from his character. (This is also kinda nitpicky but that hasn’t stopped us before so why should it now?). In the original, Iroh not speaking out or trying to stop the Agni Kai is something that he deeply regrets. He watched as his nephew was humiliated in front of hundreds of people and didn’t do anything to help him. That’s why Iroh is with Zuko for a majority of the show. He knows Zuko. He knows who Zuko was before the Agni Kai and why he’s been acting the way he is while looking for the avatar. He felt like he let Zuko down and wants to help Zuko get what he needs. It’s why Iroh never chooses leaves Zuko side and having Iroh try to stop Ozai just lessens that a little bit for me.

To wrap it all up, i think the changes made to the Zuko and Ozai Agni Kai in the live action adaptation of ATLA aren’t good changes and weaken a lot the characters involved in the scene. But that’s just my opinion.

(Sorry if some of this was wrong or didn’t make sense, I’m writing this at midnight and just kinda going off memory for some of the details).

((Also, If you actually read all this, you’re awesome btw. Have a nice day!))

[cherryheairt]

As Morningstar landed, she seemed to call out for something, or perhaps someone.

Poor Morningstar, she was looking for her friend Dusk.

I must be the only man of no Valyrion blood to ride a dragon.

Cregan doesn't know how real his phrase will be, he might be the only northerner who gets to "ride a dragon" 😉🤭

Cregan turned to Daenys before they entered. "If you need anything, tonight, come to me." He whispered to avoid an echo in the hallway.

If it were not for the fact that Cregan is a man known to be very honourable, I would say that he wanted to help Daenys with other "needs" in the middle of the night.

"My betrothed asked me to come to the Queen's council as an advisor. Once my men follow on foot, I will take my leave to lead them." Cregan said, firm and absolute.

Cregan doesn't have to feel threatened, but it's still so nice to want to mark his territory as the alpha wolf of the pack.

Cregan smirked at him, pointedly rubbing the dragoness' snout himself.

Surely Dusk also misses Morningstar and must be sulking knowing that she went to Winterfell and he could not greet her. I can imagine poor Dusk restless at night after Daenys and Morningstar left, he must have been howling to call his dear friend, but she didn't show up. If Cregan misses Daenys, it is obvious that the direwolf misses Morningstar.

Come, Cregan. Show me how Northerners pray. I would quite like to learn, now that I have an opportunity.

Surely Cregan was more than ready and willing to teach another kind of "prayers" to Daenys 😉🤭

"You to stay by my side." He laced their hands together, squeezing once as the feeling and his words made her heart flutter.

Surely Cregan did not want to waste any more time and wanted to marry Daenys at that very moment, taking advantage of the fact that there was a Weirwood.

also alysanne is NOT meant to sound like a bitchy character...

I agree. I am sick and tired of women being portrayed as resentful and hostile bitches just for being leaders during a war, especially when there is a male love interest. A good man will make it clear from the beginning that his affections only belong to you, he will not make you compete with another woman that is just playing with the feelings of both. Women should not fight for any man.

Currently regretting naming the dragon Lightbringer so early on in the story. It would've been so much more fitting if Daenys and Morningstar had earned the title in a battle, instead.

I think it's fine, you shouldn't worry about that. Sunfyre, Aegon's dragon, was called "the golden" because he was the most beautiful dragon Westeros had ever seen. Tessarion, Daeron's dragon is called the "blue queen" because of her scales. None of those dragons earned that nickname in batte, our spoiled girl Morningstar also deserves a tittle after all she looks like a star in the night when she flies. Also Sunfyre and Tessarion may be beautiful dragons, but Morningstar gets extra points for sympathy. Let the girl keep the title.

Dusk and Morningstar breakup arc 🤧

LMAO im glad you noticed that double entendre. save a horse, ride a dragon.

He might secretly hope for it, but alas he is forced to be the honor mascot 😪

He wants everyone to know HIS betrothed wanted him here by her side how cute

Awh hat makes me think of poor Dusk alone with the army. Everyone knows of the wolf being the warg catalyst for their Lord, so they stear clear of giving him affection bc they never know when it'll be Stark or wolf lol

oh he definitely thought of having their wedding right then and there, asking Simon to officiate it and Daemon to give her away. He's only waiting for her own confession.

women should not fight for a MAN ❗️❗️ Firm believer in this, I didn't want to turn it into a cat fight. Also, Alysanne would totally want to go off to battle instead of sit around Harrenhall waiting for ravens. Since she's older than Davos and more experienced and less reckless, Willem let her go instead of his son.

You're so right, actually. I think Meleys is also called the Red Queen simply because she is red and was ridden by a queen. Lightbringer fits her white scales and calm nature.

Tysm for commentating as usual I love these sm 😭😭

[everythingsinred]

~ essay navigation ~

Have you ever thought to yourself, "Anya's essays are interesting in theory, but I really don't wanna read ALL of it! I just wanna read the analysis of my favorite parts!" or maybe "I DID read all of Anya's essays but now I wanna reread one specific thing she talked about and I can't remember which post it was in because there's too many of them!" ? Me too! Don't even worry about it! Today I am addressing those issues with a TABLE OF CONTENTS!

This is for essay parts AND in-depth character questions related to GA that I've answered. I get a LOT of questions about GA's ending and thus I feel like I've talked about it exhaustively. This is how I make it all digestible. <3 Love ya!

Anime NM Essay (6 parts/includes a self-contained and easy to navigate table of contents so I won't go into it again here)

NatsuMikan Essay (Natsume's Version) (30 parts. This is the one people actually read I think):

Part 1 (covers ch 1-4. corresponds to pt 1 of mikan's/ mikan entering the academy and the northern woods game)

Part 2 (covers ch 5-8. corresponds to pt 1+2+3 of mikan's/ northern woods game and mikan's intro to academy life)

Part 3 (covers ch 9-12, corresponds to pt 4 of mikan's/ dodgeball, letters, culture fest announcement, and central town)

Part 4 (covers ch 13-16, corresponds to pt 5 of mikan's/ the reo arc)

Part 5 (covers ch 17-20, corresponds to pt 6+7 of mikan's/ culture fest up to anna's shop)

Part 6 (covers ch 21-26, corresponds to pt 7+8 of mikan's/ rest of the culture fest)

Part 7 (covers ch 27-30, corresponds to pt 9 of mikan's/ exams, kaname & bear's story, beginning of z arc)

Part 8 (covers ch 31-35, corresponds to pt 10 of mikan's/ part 2 of z arc up to going through the tunnel)

Part 9 (covers ch 36-40, corresponds to pt 11+12 of mikan's/ part 3 of z arc up to the discovery of z's headquarters)

Part 10 (covers ch 41-44, corresponds to pt 12+13 of mikan's/ part 4 of z arc up to its conclusion)

Part 11 (covers ch 45-47, corresponds to pt 13 of mikan's/ natsume's bday and christmas ball prep)

Part 12 (covers ch 48-52, corresponds to pt 14 of mikan's/ christmas ball and winter cleaning)

Part 13 (covers ch 53-55, corresponds to pt 15 of mikan's/ part 1 of new year's arc up to n&m sleeping together)

Part 14 (covers ch 56-61, corresponds to pt 16 of mikan's/ part 2 of new year's arc up to yakumo and natsume's fight)

Part 15 (covers ch 66-70, corresponds to pt 17+18 of mikan's/ part 3 of new year's arc up to conclusion and aoi's departure)

Part 16 (covers ch 71-76, corresponds to pt 19+20 of mikan's/ transition arc including alice stones and valentine's day)

Part 17 (covers ch 77-80, corresponds to pt 21 of mikan's/ part 1 of sports fest arc up to the equipment mishap)

Part 18 (covers ch 81-86, corresponds to pt 22+23 of mikan's/ part 2 of sports fest arc up to n&m's masked hug and conclusion)

Part 19 (covers ch 89-91, corresponds to pt 24 of mikan's/ soul swap arc)

Part 20 (covers ch 93-95, corresponds to pt 25 of mikan's/ transition arc including swimming up to n&m hugging to comfort each other)

Part 21 (covers ch 96-100, corresponds to pt 26 of mikan's/ beginning of escape arc, natsume's confessions)

Part 22 (covers ch 101-116, corresponds to pt 27+28 of mikan's/ part 1 of time travel arc up to izumi's death)

Part 23 (covers ch 117-123, corresponds to pt 28 of mikan's/ part 2 of time travel arc up to conclusion & mikan's decision)

Part 24 (covers ch 124-138, corresponds to pt 29+30+31 of mikan's/ high school arc up to conclusion)

Part 25 (covers ch 140-143, corresponds to pt 32+33 of mikan's/ yuka's funeral, christmas ball and shiki's gift to mikan)

Part 26 (covers ch 144-145, corresponds to pt 33 of mikan's/ rapunzel arc)

Part 27 (covers ch 146-149/ natsume and ruka developments and new year's planning)

Part 28 (covers ch 150-163, corresponds to pt 34 of mikan's/ new year's concert and natsume's death)

Part 29 (covers ch 178-180, corresponds to pt 39 of mikan's/ final chapters, which we all know by now i despise)

Part 30 (covers the nm content in kageki, corresponds to pt 40 of mikan's)

NatsuMikan Essay (Mikan's Version) (40 parts. Longer and stole more of my soul but got less engagement) :

Part 1 (covers ch 1-2, corresponds to pt 1 of natsume's/ mikan entering the academy)

Part 2 (covers ch 3-5, corresponds to pt 1+2 of natsume's/ adventure in the northern woods)

Part 3 (covers ch 6-8, corresponds to pt 2 of natsume's/ mikan's intro to academy life)

Part 4 (covers ch 9-12, corresponds to pt 3 of natsume's/ dodgeball, letters, culture fest announcement, and central town)

Part 5 (covers ch 13-16, corresponds to pt 4 of natsume's/ the reo arc)

Part 6 (covers ch 17-19, corresponds to pt 5 of natsume's/ culture fest throughout the SA event)

Part 7 (covers ch 20-22, corresponds to pt 5+6 of natsume's/ culture fest up to imai sibling meeting)

Part 8 (covers ch 23-26, corresponds to pt 6 of natsume's/ culture fest up to conclusion)

Part 9 (covers ch 26-30, corresponds to pt 7 of natsume's/ exams, kaname & bear's story, beginning of z arc)

Part 10 (covers ch 31-35, corresponds to pt 8 of natsume's/ part 2 of z arc up to going through the tunnel)

Part 11 (covers ch 36-39, corresponds to pt 9 of natsume's/ part 3 of z arc up to mikan falling in the sand trap)

Part 12 (covers ch 40-43, corresponds to pt 9+10 of natsume's/ part 4 of z arc up to pengy's death)

Part 13 (covers ch 44-47, corresponds to pt 10+11 of natsume's/ conclusion of z arc, natsume's bday and christmas prep)

Part 14 (covers ch 48-52, corresponds to pt 12 of natsume's/ christmas ball and winter cleaning)

Part 15 (covers ch 53-55, corresponds to pt 13 of natsume's/ part 1 of new year's arc up to n&m sleeping together)

Part 16 (covers ch 56-61, corresponds to pt 14/ part 2 of new year's arc up to h+r+m chasing after natsume and ruka deciding to tell his and natsume's tale)

Part 17 (covers ch 65-67, corresponds to pt 15 of natsume's/ part 3 of new year's arc up to mikan getting hit by persona's alice for the first time)

Part 18 (covers ch 68-70, corresponds to pt 15 of natsume's/ part 4 of new year's arc up to conclusion and aoi's departure)

Part 19 (covers ch 71-73, corresponds to pt 16 of natsume's/ part 1 of transition arc, including alice stones and valentines day)

Part 20 (covers ch 74-76, corresponds to pt 16 of natsume's/ part 2 of transition arc, including the graduation concert and hoshino)

Part 21 (covers ch 77-80, corresponds to pt 17 of natsume's/ part 1 of sports fest arc up to equipment mishap)

Part 22 (covers ch 81-84, corresponds to pt 18 of natsume's/ part 2 of sports fest arc up to the borrowing race)

Part 23 (covers ch 85-88, corresponds to pt 18 of natsume's/ part 3 of sports fest arc up to kibasen and conclusion)

Part 24 (covers ch 89-92, corresponds to pt 19 of natsume's/ soul swap arc)

Part 25 (covers ch 93-95, corresponds to pt 20 of natsume's/ transition arc including swimming up to n&m hugging to comfort each other)

Part 26 (covers ch 96-100, corresponds to pt 21 of natsume's/ beginning of escape arc, natsume's confessions)

Part 27 (covers ch 101-110, corresponds to pt 22 of natsume's/ part 1 of time travel arc up to n&m/kaoru&yuka parallel)

Part 28 (covers ch 111-123, corresponds to pt 22+23 of natsume's/ part 2 of time travel arc up to conclusion and mikan's decision)

Part 29 (covers ch 124-131, corresponds to pt 24 of natsume's/ part 1 of high school arc up to hotaru's farewell)

Part 30 (covers ch 132-134, corresponds to pt 24 of natsume's/ part 2 of high school arc, including mikan getting 3 love confessions and returning 1)

Part 31 (covers ch 135-139, corresponds to pt 24 of natsume's/ part 3 of high school arc up to conclusion and yuka's death)

Part 32 (covers ch 140-142, corresponds to pt 25 of natsume's/ reuniting with mikan in labyrinth)

Part 33 (covers ch 143-145, corresponds to pt 26 of natsume's/ rapunzel arc)

Part 34 (covers ch 150-163, corresponds to pt 27 of natsume's/ new year's concert, escaping with persona, and natsume's death)

Part 35 (covers ch 164-166/ mikan trying to save natsume)

Part 36 (covers ch 167-169/ mikan's widow arc)

Part 37 (covers ch 170-172/ memories lesson)

Part 38 (covers ch 173-177/ mikan's departure)

Part 39 (covers ch 178-180, corresponds to pt 29 of natsume's/ final chapters... this part is just me ranting actually)

Part 40 (covers nm content in kageki/ corresponds to pt 30 of natsume's)

To be continued because Tumblr hates me and I hate it back <3

[tiredkilljoy]

Spotify wrapped was pitiful this year - nothing good in it at all. Last years was much better.

Things of note:

* I was in the top 0.005% of listeners to - girl, so confusing by charli xcx featuring lorde

* top artist was Taylor Swift, I went through a phase guys, don’t BOO. Top 3% is insane when I stopped listening to her in the middle of the year 😭😂

* the progression of my music taste from august to October is absolutely hilarious. The entire vibe changing due to the main album I was listening to is astounding lol.

Overall- and underwhelming Spotify wrapped for an overwhelming year of music. So many amazing albums came out this year! And I listened to so many new artists too!

A few stand outs: (just found out after this entire shitshow that they haven’t put the fucking songs in order of how much they were listened too? What the fuck man?!)

* I actually blocked Noah kahan on everything because his music made me want to drive my car into a tree. But he did sneak onto my top 100 most played with the northern attitude at 35

* places 5-10 on the list consist of:

5. Good luck, babe! Chappel Roan

6. JOYRIDE by Kesha

7. Linda by Tokischa and Rosalía

8. 360 by Charli xcx

9. Red Wine Supernova by Chappel Roan

10. One of your girls by Troye Sivan

* Sabrina carpenter comes in with juno at 22

* not my fault by Renee rapp ft Megan the stallion at 30

* Tyler’s chromomopia debuting at 38 with St.Chroma - this album dropped the 28th of October for ref 😮‍💨

*the entire album of solar power by lorde can be found throughout my entire top 100 songs. I adore this delusional album so much 🥹

* new entry from a new artist at 43 with aftertaste by Chitra

* at poisition 🚨🚨69🚨🚨 we have Joan of arc by arcade fire- straight banger please listen to this and Helen of Troy by lorde on repeat to relive a manic episode I had this year !

* Paramore enters with this is why at 70

* my love mine all mine by mitski takes 79

* motion sickness by Phoebe Bridgers takes 80

* embarrassingly position 85 has been taken up by Diet Pepsi by Addison Rea… I have no explanation other then like 2 weeks of psychosis

* 88 has harry styles entry with watermelon sugar- which is weird because I swear I listened to Harry’s house more?

* 93 has money trees by Kendrick Lamar roll in

* 95 has Billie Eilish debut with birds of a feather - her latest album hit me hard and soft was a masterpiece and her tour looks sick as hell

* at 96 we have one of the only artists I saw live this year- Arjit Singh with Sajni. This song is one of the prettiest things I’ve heard in a while 🥹

* and at 💯 closing us off is our first entry for Florence and the machine- but this is only because I spent 4 months listening to dance fever on vinyl every day 🫡 her song King has come into bookend a fantastic year of music for me!

AOTY: in my opinion has to go to either Troye Sivan’s - something to give each other. A no skip pop record with just such a stunning overall production and its live performances have been undefeated this year. The queer joy this album gives me is indescribable- there is so much joy and longing in this album that I adore so much. Going to be carrying this album with me for a while 🌟❤️

Or! Chromokopia by Tyler the creator- this album is breathtaking- in the way that Beyoncé’s renaissance took on a life of its own almost with each song being an amalgamation of such small details keeping you hooked for days on each song. The lyricism and features make it a top contender for my AOTY despite only coming out like 5 weeks ago? It’s insane actually! Production out of this world another best thing Tyler has ever made - but we are saying this with his every drop so I am not surprised but I also am. This is such an amalgamation of all of his old work that came together for this. I have hopes Tyler headlines coachella and pulls this off in such a way that we never forget this truly groundbreaking album 🫡😮‍💨😤🫵💫

A thing that needs to be taken into account with this is that I listen to a lot of music on vinyl! This year I’ve been broke so have only purchased 2 7” albums, one was the song come on Eileen by the Dexy Midnight Runners and the other being the Safety Dance by Men without Hats.

My most played LP was the album Dance Fever by Florence & the Machine - I had this playing all summer- it kept me company while I used to get ready for parties from like May to August. Which is insane actually. Other frequent plays would be the album El Camino by The Black Keys, Trench by Twenty one pilots and midnights by Taylor Swift.

On YouTube I had the NPR tiny desk by Ca7riel & Poco Amoroso on REPEAT. This was such an amazingly fun tiny desk that was probably one on the best I’ve ever seen?!

Gotta thank TikTok for the overwhelming amount of good music that I get recommended to on there. Truly nothing is more fun than finding something amazing you’ve never heard of before.

In regards to soundtracks and broadway I was blessed with a mean girls and legally blonde hyperfixation that can’t be beat! The almond tutorials of these two are amazing and I probably watch them like 4/5 times a year ngl.

Overall a stunning year of music, I was thoroughly stuffed with some of the best the world could offer. Can’t wait to see what another year brings 🙏🌟🎉

[dollycas]

On Flashback Fridays I will share with you the books I was not able to review when they were first released which have been screaming at me from my To-Be-Read bookshelf. Murder at an English Séance (A Beryl and Edwina Mystery) International Mystery & Crime Historical Mystery / Women Sleuths 8th in Series Setting - Post–World War I England Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington (June 25, 2024) Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 288 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496740165 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496740168 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CK5CZ6JK American adventuress Beryl Halliwell and prim and proper Brit Edwina Davenport team up once again as enquiry agents to investigate a suspicious psychic in this historical English village mystery set just after World War I. Hidden beneath her British reserve, Edwina has a secret: she’s finished her novel and is bravely mailing the manuscript to a publisher. Beryl also has a secret: as thanks for solving a case, the American adventuress has been gifted an airplane. After swooping over the fields and hedgerows of Walmsley Parva, livestock scattering beneath her, she flamboyantly lands the plane on the village green, prompting a startled Edwina to consider a stiff gin fizz. Beryl’s aircraft is not the only disruption of village peace. Miss Dinsdale, a psychic medium, has started holding séances. After the church organist resigns to serve as musical accompaniment for the séances, the vicar’s wife hires the enquiry agents to expose the medium as a charlatan. Beryl is confident she can spot the fraud, having learned from Harry Houdini himself some tricks of the trade. The dubious Miss Dinsdale claims her spirit guide is an Egyptian princess whose mummy resides in a sarcophagus in the room. But the only body in the sarcophagus belongs to a murdered villager impaled with a dagger. As the sleuths begin to investigate, Beryl discovers her plane has been sabotaged and wonders if there’s a connection. Whether in the air or on terra firma, Beryl and Edwina must go round a circle of suspects to divine the culprit . . . About the Author  Jessica Ellicott is the author of the Beryl & Edwina Mystery series, as well as the Change of Fortune mysteries under the name Jessica Estevao and the bestselling Sugar Grove Mysteries as Daphne du Maurier Award-winning author Jessie Crockett. A member of Wicked Authors, Sisters in Crime, and ITW, she lives in northern New England where she obsessively knits wool socks and enthusiastically speaks Portuguese with a shocking disregard for the rules of grammar. Please visit her online at JessicaEllicott.com.  I am giving away an ARC review copy! The contest is open to anyone over 18 years old with a US or Canadian mailing address. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Following My Facebook Fan Page. Add this book to your WANT TO READ shelf on GoodReads for 3 Bonus Entries. Follow Kensington Books on Threads for 2 Bonus Entries! Follow Kensington Publishing on Facebook for 2 Bonus Entries Pin this giveaway to Pinterest for 3 Bonus Entries. If you share the giveaway on Threads, Facebook, or anywhere you will receive 5 Bonus Entries For Each Link. The  Contest Will End on February 7, 2025, at 11:59 PM CST The Winner Will Be Chosen Using Random.org The Winner will be notified by email and posted here in the sidebar. Click Here For Entry Form Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. Read the full article

[theroadtoanywhere]

Crowning Moments of Funny

The start of the film, in which Blane, Hinto and Orrin, disguised as fruit merchants, try to get a castle guard to let them speak to Carmen, which starts with the guard lampshading the presence of bananas in a northern part of Arc. Which then shifts to the first guard and another guard getting into a Seinfeldian Conversation about sparrows and their carrying capacity, at which point the three just give up and skip right to searching for Garnet. Really sets the tone for the story.

Guard 1: Where'd you even get the bananas?

Orrin: Uh, we found ‘em.

Guard 1: Found 'em? In the North? The banana’s tropical! This is a temperate zone!

Blane: Well, sparrows fly south for the winter! Ergo, these bananas are imported from the south.

Guard 1: ...Are you suggesting bananas migrate?

Blane: No, “imported” means “brought from”. Y’know, as in carried?

Guard 1: What? A sparrow carrying bananas?!

Orrin: If it was a sparrow, it could hold them by the stem!

Guard 1: It's not a question of where it holds them! It's a simple question of weight ratios! An eighty-five ounce bird could not carry one-point-four pound bananas!

Blane: Look, it doesn't matter! Will you go and tell the Red Queen to let us in?

Guard 1: (is silent for a moment) Listen, in order to maintain airspeed velocity, a sparrow needs to beat its wings between 16 and 19 miles per hour, right?

Hinto: (exasperatedly) Would you just-?!

Guard 1: Am I right?

Hinto: We’re not interested!

Guard 2: (interjecting) They could be carried one at a time!

Guard 1: Oh, yeah, one at a time, maybe, but not all together at once, that's my point.

Guard 2: Oh, yeah, I agree with that.

Poppy’s threats as Garnet is taking the sack holding the former to the latter’s room.

Poppy: OPEN THIS BAG OR I'LL EAT YOUR EYEBALLS!

The castle lords.

Lord: You don't scare us, human vermin! Go and soak your heads, ye seeds of stupid people! I pick my nose and wipe it on your blimp! You and your silly, so-called human trrrravelllllers! (blows raspberries)

Poppy: What a weirdo.

Blane: Now, look—

Lord: I don't wanna talk to you anymore, you empty-headed human waste dispenser! I fart in your faces! Your mother was a bonnacon and your father smelled like Limburger!

Orrin: Anybody else up there we could talk to?

Lord: No! Now leave these premises or I Shall Taunt You a second time!

And then the four get bombarded with fresh produce. "Fetch the big one!"

"AND THIS ONE IS FOR YOUR MOTHER!" [throws watermelon]

The failed attempt at entering the castle in a "Trojan Cat", namely that the lords promptly catapult the cat back out with the quintet inside.

The Freymere witch trial scene.

Mayor: What makes you think she's a witch?

Peasant 3: Well, she turned me into a toad!

Mayor: A toad?

(beat)

Peasant 3: She could’ve.

Crowd: BURN HER ANYWAY!

The mayor tries to reason with the mob with some bizarre science:

Mayor: What else do we burn apart from witches?

Villager 1: MORE witches!

Villager 2: (nudges him) Shush!

Villager 3: Wood!

Mayor: So, why do witches burn?

(very, very long pause while the villagers think)

Villager 2: 'Cause they're made of... wood?

The “trial” ends with Garnet being put to the mayor’s test, which is weighing her against a goose, because if witches float, they must be made of wood; wood and geese both float, and so must weigh the same. She fails, thanks to a hilariously off-balance scale.

Poppy: (being held by a villager) Is all this because she’s human?

The other three running towards Freymere with dramatic music, but making no ground. The movie cuts between them and the town guards watching five times before the trio suddenly get there.

"HIYAAA!"

The guard's mildly worried "Hey..." after Hinto flying kicks his fellow guard.

The three’s Roaring Rampage of Rescue, in which they beat the hell out of everyone who’s attending Garnet and Poppy’s attempted execution.

Sigal hyping up the Beast of Ganamar is given extra hilarity in the film, with an especially hammy delivery.

Sigal: And so, brave adventurers, if you do doubt your courage, come no further! For death awaits you all with big, nasty fangs!

(Cue looks of utter confusion from the kids, except Poppy)

Poppy: Bravo. (begins clapping her wings, before Garnet stops her)

The cave containing the last words of the sage Donnan, ending with the word “aaarghh”.

Hinto: What is that?!

Blane: He must’ve died at the end of it.

Hinto: If that’s the case, he wouldn’t even bother carving “Aaarghh”! He'd just say it!

Blane: Well, that’s what it says here. Unless he was dictating it and the guy who wrote it took down his death rattle.

All leading, of course, to the dramatic entrance of the Beast of Ganamar, which Orrin attempts to distract with the offer of teaching it a knock-knock joke:

Orrin: You go first.

Beast: Knock knock.

Orrin: Who's there?

Beast: ...

Orrin: HE BOUGHT IT! RUN!

[The group escape]

The trailer has nothing to do with anything in the movie adaptation, and that's why it's just as hysterical.

Narrator: ONCE! In a lifetime! There comes an animated motion picture, which changes the whole history of animated motion pictures. A film so stunning in its effect, so vast in its impact, that it profoundly affects the lives of all who see it. You flocked to see The Magic Kaleidoscope for the music. You went to The Little Godfathers to see the world of a children’s book come to life. You came to see Ryumi and the Magic Jewel for the creature designs. But this film can offer you so much more. It's not just the music, nor setting, nor character or creature designs which makes this brand new film a unique cinematic experience. It’s the animation. Yes, folks, you’ve never seen anything like this before! CGI effects with 2D effects! Fluid motion up the wazoo! Silly walks! It makes Hadi and the Magic Ring seem cheap. No expense has been spared bringing in the world's greatest animators!

Producer: Wait a minute, wait a minute. What about the plot?

Narrator: Uh, the what now?

Producer: The plot. Y’know, what the movie is about.

Narrator: Well, I haven't actually seen it...

Producer: Seriously?! You're actually sitting there telling literally everybody watching this to go see a movie you haven't even seen?!

Narrator: Well, I can't go and watch every movie I narrate the trailer for!

[samhellebore]

moon kiss.

hi, it's 1 am and I just saw the new champion for league of legends. and I am in love with how they look. but I did fall for the brother the most.  so my mind went into overdrive and came up with a story.  so please keep in mind I almost know nothing about him and just go of on what I know for now. I hope you still enjoy it. 

---

Watching the stars from the mountains was always a treat to behold. The moon shining at it's brightest, the stars adorning the sky aswell. But you weren't here for that, it seems like the moon was guiding you somewhere on to the mountains, little whispers, and lights guiding you. Slowly climbing up the mountains, your hands and knees red from gripping on to rocks and other stuff, but you kept on climbing. This must be it, if the universe was here to guide you to where you need to go or even needed to be, you do it happily, just to get away from your boring life. Pulling yourself onto a platform herself hitting the water, the whispers stopped, no lights seem to light your way around. 

A soft sigh left your lips, unsure of what to do. Do you have to do something... Where you here to rest? Or had the universe something else planned for you. When soft music seems to enter your head. Only to start over after some time, the music cutting itself off and start again with the same notes. Looking up at the moon, her eyes held confusion, why would the moon make her listen to music. Moving around in the water, the moon making the water seem to glow. She saw the platform in the middle.

Unknown to her she was not alone on the mountain, a young man was there as well. He was looking around for a special flower, but hearing her made him stop in his tracks. 'I heard it as well Aphelios. We should probably see who that was. If they find the Lunari she could tell the world.' The brother nods his head, slowly trying to find where she was now. She hadn't said anything for some time so he just followed where he had last heard her make sounds. 

"Do you want me to sing?" You called out to the moon, hoping for an answer to come. Silents. "I'm unsure of what to do now! You have brought me here, what now?" Your voice rings out into the silents of the night, the moon seems to glow a bit brighter pointing you to send in the middle of the platform. Now that you look around, the ground was covered in moon symbols, as two arc ways were over the platform. On the arc ways where more moon symbols, you slowly walked to the middle. when the music seems to start again. "You really want me to sing don't you..." You softly whispered to yourself.

Aphelios found her, the platform where the moon was shining down on as she moved to the center. Water dripped from her legs onto the ground, as she ran a hand through her hair. She slowly start to hum, he couldn't hear the music but his sister could. 'The moon is singing to her, it seems to want to show her something. it guided her here, I'm unsure why but we should keep an eye on her.' Once more Aphelios nob, as he looked at the girl. The light of the moon seems to make her glow, like she was a ghost. a soft sigh left her lips, closing her eyes as she slowly swayed from side to side.

As you took a breath, words seem to pop into your mind, as you slowly began to sing. "Distant moon, so big and bright. Softest silver glowing through the night. High atop, the mountain gold. Sun unseen, the world is cold." Slowly lift your hands to the moon, from your point of view it seemed like you were holding the moon. The moon seems to flicker, almost as it seems that it was happy that you were finally singing to it. "Here I wait, and here I stand. Early morning northern hour hand. Studying, in solitude. Looking for, a hidden clue." You couldn't see it but the water seems to slowly glide up onto the stone platform reaching for you.

Aphelios eyes where wide seeing the woman sing to the moon, the magic he felt coming from her seem to be so strong. 'Such a pretty voice, the moon seems to enjoy it.' His sister whispered to him, he could hear on her voice she was enjoying it too. Her hands dropped to her sides, a troubled look on her face. "I wish, to see this world through my own eyes. To calm, the elders and silence their cries. Because of you, I now gaze up and sing. The lullaby of the moon." The water reached her legs as white lines began to glow on her skin. She slowly turned around almost in a trance, as the white lines creep up her body, slowly reaching her eyes, who were closed.

Slowly your eyes opened, the world seems to be more bright, seeing everything better as the moon began to guide your way again, so you kept on singing. "Found at last, I steal away. Moving faster through the silent shade. Sea of stars, like flowers bloom. Looking for, the hidden tomb." Rushing through the thickness of the woods, but you kept on going, the powers of the moon seem to pull you to this other strong force. When a big door overgrown by the greens of the earth, was there in the middle of the woods. Moving closer you pull away at the green slowly revealing the door more and more. Moon ruins where on the door, as her hand was full pressed against it, it lite up. The green of the earth seems to pull itself away from the door.

The man followed the woman into the deeps on the woods, his sister softly talking to him, telling him the moon was guiding her to a secret tomb who none could enter unless the moon wants them to. In the tomb a crescent blade laying in wait for its owner, to help out the lunari. 'I think to moon wants her to find it.' As they see the door lit up, they knew for sure. Her glowing white eyes, but a soft smile on her face as she entered the hidden tomb. Aphelios following her inside, he felt the power coming from the moon but also the tomb. Her soft footsteps echoed through the tomb, her soft breathing seemed to come out fast, almost like she was scared.

Once entering a bigger room a nagamaki was stuck in stone in the middle of the room, the moon shining down on it. The wooden part of the weapon was engraved with moon symbols and writing, as the blade itself was shaped like a normal nagamaki, only for it to have a row of moons cut out in the middle, going from a beginning moon facing the left to an ending moon facing the right. You slowly walked to it, as soon you got close the moon to seems to glow. Pulling the blade from the stone ground a gust of power was released making your hair going everywhere. The music slowly picking itself back up in your head. A soft smile on your lips you turned around, only to see ahead pull itself back behind the door. They didn't feel like a  threat, more a welcoming person, that you have known for years. 

As the woman had turned around he had quickly pulled himself back behind to door open she hadn't seen him, only to hear her soft voice sing again. "Here I found, the crescent blade. Forged by Rakkor, surely lunar made. Shining down, upon the earth. Now they'll see, I'll prove my worth." Her soft footsteps seem to make it's way back to the door, making him jump up wanting to run away from her. 'Don't worry brother, she will do you no harm' As she slowly came into his sight, her soft eyes making contact with his. She nods to him, a half-moon appearing on her forehead, his eyes widen. She walked further past him, he was mesmerized by her beauty, the moon always seems to pick the once who were graceful and elegant.

Once outside you began to walk back to the platform, you could feel the unknown man follow you. You couldn't help yourself but let your mind wander to who he was. He sure was handsome, but his eyes seem to hold so much pain and sorrow. Returned to the platform you stand at the edge so you could touch the water if you wanted to. "I wish, to see this world through my own eyes. To calm, the elders and silence their cries. Because of you I now gaze up and sing. The lullaby of the moon." The cutout moons on the blade seem to glow as you grip on to the weapon tighter. Memories of the past came flooding into your mind, what the solari had done to the lunari. Telling you to help them, and protect them from the Solari. The moons cries made you feel so much hatred for the Solari. "Condemned me to death. With my last breath. Sorrow and anger. Fill my head." 

The water seem to move around, the wind picking up, the moons light dimming down. Aphelios felt her anger and sadness, him slowly making his way over to her. 'The moon as shown her what happened to our kind, the lunari, her emotions are taking over. Please, Aphelios help her calm down.' His sister softly whispered feeling her presents closer than ever before after her entering the fortress. "Distant moon, so big and bright. Softest silver glowing through the night. High atop, the mountain gold. Sun unseen, the world is cold." Her weapon touched the water, making it turned silver as she slowly stepped into it, the water reaching her waist. He quickly rushed over to her, pulling her from the water, the sadness seems to leave her. Hands grabbing his coat, turning her head around looking up at him.

As your eyes made contact with his again, the feeling returned once more of knowing him for years. But seeing a figure appear behind him making you push yourself out of his arms and away from him. He reached out to him but you backed away. But you slowly called down seeing a woman appear more a soft smile on her face, but her eyes widen as they made eye contact. 'You can see me..?' You nob slowly pulling yourself onto your knees, a confused look on her face. 'And hear me?' You nob once more, a joyful laugh left her lips as she turned to the man sitting in front of you. 'Aphelios, she can hear me! Can you believe it?! It's wonderful!' Now knowing his name you turned to him, a soft smile on her lips. "Sorry for pushing you away, but seeing her behind you made me back away." A small smile was on his face shaking his head. "Are you mute?" He nods, as you softly smiled moving back to him. 

Aphelios looked the woman over, the lines now gone, showing him her glowing (colored eyes) eyes, a soft smile on her pink lips. The moonlight making her skin seem to glow. "So what were you guys doing here?" 'We were looking and following where the moon leads us.' The woman softly said, as she nodded. Aphelios reached for the younger women's hand as he pulled himself up as well as the woman. "Wow, thank you" He nodded as she leaned down picking up the weapon, soon after looking out over the view over shurima land. The moon once more seems to tell her to do something. "Now I know, my chosen path. Higher calling they will know my wrath. Raise my relic blade. I will not be swayed. With the might of the moon by my side." She lifted the blade over her head the moon seems to be blinding for a second, as a moon now appeared onto her upper torso. 

Feeling a hand place itself on top of your own, making yourself look up at Aphelios. 'He says, that you did your duty, for now, tomorrow is another day.' "But seeing what the solari did to the lunari-" He shook his head, pulling you away from the edge of the platform once more. 'Rest is what comes first, tomorrow is a new day.' You nod, rolling your shoulders you softly sigh. "You know Aphelios, the first time I saw you in the tomb you felt like a year old friend, just calming and relaxing." 'Aphelios agrees, he felt like he knows you from maybe a past life. one where you where friends or even more...' You looked over to the moon, almost like it brought you together. "Do you think the moon wanted us to meet?" A silent laugh seems to leave his lips, a small joyous smile pulled at his lips as you could also hear the woman giggle. Standing on your toes, you softly kissed his lips, quickly pulling back. "Thank you for saving me from my own anger and sadness."

He felt her lips against his, quick and fast, but soft and delightful. Her words almost seem to fly over his head, as he just stared down at her. Slowly making her flustered, slowly pulling herself out of his arms and apologizing for stepping over the line. But he slowly places his hand on her cheek, making her eyes return to his. Slowly leaning down kissing her, longer them before as well as pulling her close. Strangers kissing in the moonlight, but to them, it felt they knew each other for so long. Slowly pulling back, a few seconds of silents before she softly laughed pushing her forehead against his. "Strange how we only have known each other for a good 20 minutes and here we are." She felt him laugh as he still caresses her cheek, as she leans into it kissing the palm of his hand. "Thank you." She softly whispered into his palm, her eyes looking into his. He shook his head after it nudging his nose against hers, silently telling her not to thank him anymore.

[crimson-dxwn]

At Odds Chapter 5

Summary: Kal gets the shock of a lifetime, Mij Gilamar breaks HIPAA, and Mereel Skirata is serious for once. Ori considers her choices. 

Warnings: Mando profanity, pregnancy, SPOILERS for Republic Commando books (all but the last one)

Words: enough (trying not to measure my writing by how many words I can get down on a page these days)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

Imperial Garrison

Summer, 18 BBY

They leave her in a sparse cell. The Empire, ever prepared it seems, has plenty of the tiny rooms built into the west wing of their new garrison. The troopers leave her to her thoughts with no inkling of how long she’ll be imprisoned here. The officer was just some pumped-up kid, there was no way any charges would stick. She was sure those trooper helmets had cameras, too. They’d be able to prove she was innocent. Or someone would find her first - Mij would notice when she didn’t show up for her shift. 

The room is large enough for her to pace three steps in each direction, just enough to fit a cot, latrine, and a small sink. And a poorly hidden camera in the upper corner near the door. Her cheekbone throbs and Ori uses the minuscule sink to splash water on the area. It’s lukewarm and does a poor job. But it’s something to do, to focus on instead of the pure panic that she can feel rising from her gut. She’s trapped here. Her comm is gone. She rubs below the cut where she can feel dried blood and the water runs rusty with it.

A knock booms at the door and she flinches, sending a jolt of pain through her face. A sleek- looking droid enters and makes its way towards her.

“I am PH-1477, here to process you into the Imperial prison system. Cooperate and no disciplinary action will be necessary.”

Still dazed, she nods and the droid seems to accept it as an affirmative answer. Her right arm is yanked out in front of her and she feels a prick of pain before she can even register what’s happening. A blue light scans her palms and fingers for prints. Then a full body scan. She gives her full name. And then the droid glides out of the room and she’s left with her thoughts once again. Despite the throb that has migrated from her cheek to the side of her head, Ori decides to try and get some rest, finding that in spite of everything she’s absolutely exhausted. It must be the come-down from the adrenaline. 

How could this morning feel so long ago? In the course of twelve hours she’d nearly gotten herself arrested twice, succeeded once, thrown up, passed out and broken quite possibly more than one bone in her face. The worst part about her day is that through the durasteel door, she can hear more cell doors opening and closing and bodies hitting walls, and bodies hitting other bodies. Jumbled words and sounds bounce off the durasteel and into her cell as she finally drifts off into fitful sleep.

She’s small again, that she knows from memory. It’s dark out, and cold. Her hands, even tucked in the fur-lined mittens her mother had given her, are stiff with it. Orla is five, and it’s Munin Ca - Long Night to the aruetii. Her favorite Mandalorian holiday. It’s so cold that the snow under her boots practically squeaks, but it means that the sky is clear and every star in the sky glitters when she lays on her back with her friends making angels in the snow. 

Around the fire they tell stories about friends and family who have passed on in the last year. Her buir talks about her ba’buir, his father. Asa Beviin. She’s in her mama’s lap, trying to cry as silently as possible because she misses her ba’buir, so much it hurts. Ori is old enough to understand now that she’ll never see him again. Mama gives her a few sips of her shig and she feels better when her buir tells stories about ba’buir that make the people around them laugh. It hurts a little less knowing that other people miss him too. 

Ori is so warm and sleepy from being near the fire, and she tries so hard to keep her eyes open. She’s on ba’buir’s lap now - Asa’s wife - and she carries Ori to their tent to tuck her in. Ba’buir smells like campfire and berry-scented shig and hugs her close to her chest until she falls into a deep sleep. 

-

Finally she wakes, body stiff from lying on the narrow hard cot for what feels like hours. The dream that should have comforted her has only set her off kilter emotionally. She’s ashamed that despair has set in so quickly. But the Empire had shown so far that it was efficient, ruthlessly so, and there wasn’t any guarantee - at least that she was aware of - of a fair trial, let alone a trial at all. They could stand her up against a wall and slot her and nobody would be the wiser. Consuming nausea interrupts her spiraling thoughts as she sits up, barely making it to the commode before she’s retching up pure stomach acid. Her body is rebelling against an empty stomach, she knows, but there’s nothing to fix the problem. She dry heaves. 

Paralyzed on the floor, she breathes slowly in and out through her nose. Someone will find her. Mij will know something is wrong and Kal...Kal can find anyone. Or at least that was the rumor around the karyai when she visited. He has a dozen or so ARCs and commandos at his disposal on any given day - the most elite soldiers in the galaxy, trained by one of the most dangerous mercenaries Mandalore has ever produced. They will find her. 

———

Keldabe Med Center

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

Summer, 18 BBY

Kal hurries through the med center doors, careful to check the filters in his helmet before he starts his search for Mij. The chakaar had summoned him down to the med center again, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate. He loved the man like a brother, but damn if he couldn’t have told him whatever it was that was so kriffing urgent two days ago when he was last in town. It makes him twitchy to be out in the open these days, with the Empire openly flaunting what amounts to biological warfare, and with a bounty still on his head. 

With the doc going absolutely off the wall on those troopers the other day, he hopes she’s feeling a bit more stable today. He understands. After weeks and weeks of fighting, a little frustration can send you over the edge. She’d had the exact same look in her eye he’d seen a hundred times. Even in his boys. The human body has break points and she’d obviously hit one. Kal doesn’t judge - he’s been there. Thinking back to what was now over a year ago - watching Etain slaughtered in front of Darman - he’d lost it. They were human, and it was only natural.

“Kal!” Mij flags him down in the atrium of the center. The man somehow looks even more haggard than the last time they’d met; he looked like his last meal was weeks ago. And even more concerning, Kal sees panic in the man’s eyes. Not even on Kamino had he seen Doc Gilamar this bad.

“Mij. What the kriff is going on?” The doctor runs his hand over his face, smoothing the lines there briefly before they etched themselves back around his sunken eyes. The bottom half is covered by a mask, like all the staff here. Kal notices the skin above the edge is rubbed raw.

“Have you heard from Dr. Beviin?” He hasn’t. Not since she’d made a spectacle of herself and passed out in the atrium a few days ago. “She didn’t show up for her shift this morning.” 

“You could’ve called me with this Mij,” he replies, “I haven’t seen or heard from her for three days.” 

“She’s not on a house call at Kyrimorut?” 

“No...” Kal was not about to let Mij’s sense of panic bleed into him. 

“She’s not one to skip shifts.” Kal’s friend sits in a chair by a room, taking a break from his anxious pacing. There’s blood spray on the top of his scrubs and his neck. “Shab.”

“Spit it out, Gilamar. You look like you need a fucking break. She probably just overslept.” Mij glares daggers at him. They both know she didn’t oversleep. His friend looks like a ghost of himself.

“Fine. You want me to check in on her?” The doc sags with relief in his chair. 

“Please...Kal...I shouldn’t even be telling you this but...” Again he runs his hand down his face, rubs at his bloodshot eyes. “You’d find out sooner or later.”

He waits expectantly.

“She’s pregnant.” His stomach drops. Mij’s head is in his hands.

“And you let her work in this?” Dread is rising with his ire. He considers the chaos around them, the spatter on Mij’s scrubs. He doesn’t want to be angry with his friend but is finding it difficult. 

“She didn’t disclose it on her forms, I had no idea until the other day. It came back in her bloodwork.” Shab. “She might not have even known.” 

That was bantha shit if he’s ever heard it. The woman was on top of everything. In what universe could she not know? He thinks back to watching her sleep, the exhaustion on her features, how her eyes widened when she’d checked her datapad...kriff. 

“How far along?” Mij looks up from the cradle of his hands, puzzled. 

“Why does that…”

“Just tell me.” The doctor’s eyes narrow. Exhausted as he is, not much gets past the old sargeant. 

“Ten weeks.” 

Kal’s never been as quick as his boys at figures, not even when they were small. But he’s always accurate. He is already putting a plan in place to find her. Not that it mattered whose kid it was, but his boys had been picking up whispers. Whispers he didn’t like about what the Empire had been getting up to on Mandalore. Mandoade were dying in droves these days and Kal was not about to let doc become one of them.

In all likelihood she was at home, exhausted, and had slept through an alarm. For now at least, he keeps his temper in check. No use getting worked up over nothing.

--------

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

Imperial Garrison

Summer, 18 BBY

1 Day later

Durasteel cuffs shine around her wrists in front of her as more troopers usher them to the transport. It has a Mining Guild insignia on the side, and Ori looks for any other identifying marks as a clue to where the Empire is taking them. Nothing. 

The stormtrooper wearing a pauldron near the front of the line holds a hand up to his helmet, receiving a transmission. The line of prisoners backs up as he holds up a gloved hand. Distracted, she bumps into the warm body in front of her.

 “Halt.”

Chatter is audible through helmets, but nothing clear as the sergeant walks down the line, scanning the prisoners’ arm bands. He stops at her and Ori’s heart drops. He nods at his counterpart. The trooper to her right grasps her upper arm and escorts her away from the silent line of her brothers and sisters. Stripped of their armor, they look naked, ordinary. But not afraid. Never afraid. Armor doesn’t make a Mandalorian, no matter what the Empire may think. She can feel their eyes on her as she’s led away. One of the men speaks up for her and gets a rifle butt to the mouth for his trouble.

Either they’re going to execute me or they know. 

When the droid initially processed her, it took a little blood, just a drop. To confirm her identity, she presumed. She hadn’t put up too much of a fight, to do otherwise would have drawn suspicion, but it was obvious they’d run other tests. 

The troopers place her back in her cell, where she sits, heart racing for only a few minutes before an Imperial officer enters. This one isn’t familiar to her, at least from the few days she’s been in the cell. 

“I suppose congratulations are in order, ma’am.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone is too defensive, and she can tell he isn’t fooled. 

“Forgive me, I’d assumed considering your former profession that you would know.”

Former profession? So they do know. Well, it’s not getting slotted against a wall. Though by the sounds she’s heard outside her cell the past few days, the Empire doesn’t shy away from more physical methods of information extraction. She also suspects that the walls were made thin for a reason. 

“We’re not savages, my dear. You’re being transferred somewhere more suitable.”

With that, he leaves and two troopers step in, and they usher her out a back door to a smaller unmarked transport. She knows that being taken to a second location is going to make her chances of being found vanishingly small, and she tries futilely to resist the hands that push her forwards, sure that they won’t shoot her, now that she so obviously has something they want. 

The ship is small, enough to fit the two troopers and herself without much other cargo space, barely a light freighter, if that. She can smell the oil they use to lubricate the joints and machine parts in the engine, acrid, almost smokey. 

When she arrives at her destination some hours later, she’s handed a uniform of a sort, more something she would imagine one would wear at a spa, the type that uppity Coruscantis frequent, with hot stone massages and steam rooms and manicurists. Not that she’d know, having never been to one. 

It’s a tunic and trousers made of a soft, wicking fabric in a pale celadon. The top is short-sleeved and wraps with ties at the side, hem hitting at the tops of her thighs, while the pants are loosely cut. She slips the separates over the plain white basics they give her. The fabric slips easily between her fingers as she rubs at it.

Her brain is flying in a million directions as to where she is and why she is here. The options range from concerning to terrifying. They’d definitely been in hyperspace, but she couldn’t tell exactly how long they’d been traveling. They could be on Coruscant for all she knows. Whispers have been floating around Keldabe about various work camps where prisoners were sent and never heard from again. Mostly she’s heard about mining guild outposts, but nothing like where she is now. What kind of sick outfit are they run-

The matron raps at the door, signaling that her time to change is up and she exits, arms wrapped around herself defensively, shoulders hunched inwards. The woman looks her up and down, apparently satisfied with her appearance. With a cock of her head, the woman motions for Ori to follow her, ushering her into a bland office space where another woman sits in front of a large datapad. She’s wearing a crisper, piped version of her own spa-ready garments in varying shades of blue. A hand pushes at her shoulder and she sits clumsily. 

“Planet of birth?” the woman queries. Orla pauses at her directness.

There isn’t really any benefit to lying. They know who she is, and asking questions about her origins is likely a formality designed to lull her into submitting to questions that they really wanted to know the answers to. Truly, she wasn’t sure exactly what these people thought they were going to learn from her. She knows about the vaccine, sure, but she’d already revealed that. It’s possible they think she knows more.

“Mandalore.” 

The woman taps twice on a datapad with her stylus.

“Age?”

“Thirty two.” 

Two more taps.

“Any medical conditions?” The woman before her smiles mildly. Ori resists the urge to spit in her perfect face before she can figure out where hell she is.

“That’s not really any of your business.” 

“I’m afraid it is,” she retorts, not offering any more explanation.

“None,” Ori bites out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in a rehabilitation center-”

“-but I’m not sick.” Her interruption irritates the placid-faced woman, Ori can tell by a flicker in her eyes and a brief downturn of her lips. Maybe trying the woman’s patience the first day in this dump was ill-advised. But she just felt helpless. Trapped. 

“You’re in a rehabilitation center for wayward citizens of the Empire-”

Tired of milk-faced woman’s run-around,she interrupts again. “Why don’t you get to the kriffing point, hutuun?”

She pauses, even more annoyed than before, but keeps her composure. The nametag she wears on her left chest says Technician.

“You committed treason, Ms. Beviin. But your Empire is sensitive to your condition. Sending you to work for the mining guild would be a waste. In your condition, you’d last even less time than the weakest prisoner there. But you can be useful to the Empire in other ways.”

Useful…

“It so happens that many obedient Imperial citizens desire children of their own and are unable to conceive. And with your sordid political history, it would be remiss of us to let your child grow up in such a dangerous home.”

Ori blanches. 

“Not to mention your rumored association with the traitor Skirata and his adopted brood. You did ask me to speak plainly, Ms. Beviin.”

“I did.” Her voice comes out as wan as she feels.

“From what I understand, children of Mandalorian parents are quite sought after.” She gives a slight laugh, almost girlish. “Though one would think there would be more of them given your people’s penchant for...” she pauses, searching for the right words, “- loose morality.”

Her tiny bit of courage that she has mustered deflates to nothing. Her tone is light but there is avarice in the technician’s pale blue eyes. 

“Now, shall we continue?” All Ori can do is nod weakly. Stealing children. How many of her vode are in this place?

“Nationality of the father?” She shakes her head, unwilling to reveal more. Teeth dig into her lower lip to stop the emotions that rise up. This is insane, it can’t be real. 

“It would be to your benefit for you to cooperate with me,” she tuts, “The more we know, the better the placement for your child. Who knows, we may find a place with one of your more loyal countrymen. If you’re especially well-behaved.”

“Mandalorian,” she whispers, “he’s Mandalorian.”

“Good,” the woman praises. Her unnerving pale eyes flick greedily down to her flat abdomen and she quickly moves her top to obscure the area, oddly protective of something that wasn’t even visible yet.

-------

Keldabe City Center

Keldabe, Northern Mandalore

Summer, 18 BBY

Her apartment is empty. The sheets on the bed are rumpled but clean, and a glass of stale water sits on the night table beside it, next to a half eaten ration bar. There’s no smashed glass, no valuables taken, though Kal notes that the place is sparse, even for a Mandalorian - he’s not sure he’d find valuables even if he looked. The only personal touches he finds are a small Jonah wood figurine and a plain metal band.

The door had been securely locked when he entered. For all intents and purposes she’d gone to work as usual. Normally he’d be comforted, but his findings rankle his instincts. He’s consciously not letting himself think about the fact that he’s most likely going to be a father again. If he starts on that train of thought he’s not going to be able to think clearly anymore. Before he starts to lose it he comms Mereel. He hasn’t felt this way since Etain, since when Ruu was missing. He hates laying his problems on his boys, but there are certain things he can’t do himself.

Mereel picks up on the second ring.

“Buir?”

“Son, I need you to track someone down for me.”

“Sure thing. Who ya got?” 

“I need you to check arrest records in Keldabe.” Kal sits at the small dining table, running his hands through his cropped hair, feeling his agitation rise. 

“-Jaing get himself into trouble again?”

“Doc Beviin. Mij says she didn’t show up to work this morning.”

There’s silence on the other end as Mereel takes in his request. It’s a bizarre one, he knows, but if there’s anyone that can find a trail on someone it’s his ad’ike. The line quiets as Mereel works. He’s still holding the figurine from Orla’s dresser, worrying it between his hands, smoothing his thumbs over the polished wood. Everything is going up in flames. Somehow it seemed like just weeks ago that he had grand plans for his aliit escaping a Republic that was rotting from the inside out, when in reality it has been much longer. 

He waits an hour for Mereel to call back, sitting, sweating alone in her apartment, paralyzed by the thoughts running through his head. Waiting for a call from Mij that she had showed up to work, that she’d stopped for a caf on the way and been waylaid somehow. He lies to himself for a minute or so and then steels himself for the news Mereel is going to give him. It’s moments like this when he feels like little Falin again, if just for a moment, alone and scared and plagued by nightmares of horrible things happening to the people he loves. Before he can sink too far into the past, he’s interrupted by his comm beeping insistently.

“Son?”

“We found footage of her entering the Imperial Garrison on Keldabe two days ago.” 

“And leaving?”

The little hologram of Mereel shakes its head. Kal nods. This is his fault. He knows exactly why she’d gone and it was his own shabla fault. How could he have expected someone like her to know the Empire had vaccine and not go after it? 

“We need to get into that system.” 

“I’m sorry-”

“-It’s not your fault, Mereel. We’ll find another way.” It’s his fault. His own kriffing fault. 

---

Taglist: @leias-left-hair-bun @fractiouskat @nelba @clonewarslover55 @wolfangelwings @cherry-cokes-world @passionofthesith @808tsuika @simping-for-fives

[humansofhds]

Steven Fisher, MDiv ’21

“I had one interaction with a patient who had trouble talking and had to communicate by writing on notebook paper. And as she struggled to write, she told me that she was preparing to be her husband's co-caretaker now that they were both in a place of poor health. As a chaplain, to receive that note and see the love that was poured into it was beautiful. That is what ‘holy’ is. I still carry that specific note with me, almost as one would a prayer card.”

Steven Fisher is a third-year master of divinity degree candidate at HDS and serves as a chaplain at Boston Children's Hospital.

Forming Identity, Finding Belonging

I grew up outside of Chicago, in a suburb called Vernon Hills. I was born there in 1993, my family having immigrated from Mexico City in 1991. So, I grew up in a household in which Spanish was primarily spoken, and then as soon as I started school, I started speaking Spanglish. Even though I spent most of my time in Illinois, we traveled to Mexico City often to be with my family there. Both the Chicago area and Mexico City are very much home for me. 

I had a rich childhood, filled with time spent outdoors in the prairies, the forest preserves in Northern Illinois, and then Mexico City for Christmas. I remember spending many hours in such beautiful places, like grandmother's flower garden, and the nearby open-air market. These vivid places have informed my experience of the world. I recall being in Mexico City seeing houses that were painted pink, and cerulean, and orange, then taking the plane back to Chicago, and as we were landing, I’d look down and see the winter. Suddenly everything was covered in snow. The sky was gray and the houses were painted gray or brown. It felt like I was entering a completely different world. 

Over time, I learned to switch between and navigate those worlds. Whenever I was in Chicago, I felt like a part of myself was missing—my Mexican identity. And whenever I was in Mexico, a part of my American identity was also missing, or wasn't being acknowledged fully. But when I got to college, I began to meet people from similar backgrounds with immigrant childhoods. 

There, I found belonging with people who knew what it meant to belong to more than a single culture. They knew how to speak Spanglish, they accepted my Spanish with all its grammar mistakes, and they weren’t embarrassed about their own accents in whichever language. Finding these communities was probably the most enriching experience I had, because I felt seen.  

Ministry at Harvard Divinity School

Before HDS, I worked for the Red Cross in their disaster services. Doing that work, I came across firefighter chaplains, state trooper chaplains, and hospital chaplains. I loved their ability to connect with survivors of natural disasters, so I investigated that career a little bit more and realized one needed a theological graduate degree. 

I had been a theology minor in undergrad and had a professor who encouraged further theological studies. At the time, I was at a Catholic university and this professor wanted me to go to a Catholic graduate school. However, I heard about HDS and decided to apply to their DivEx program instead. When I got to DivEx, it was incredible to see so many people who were rooted in different traditions and unconventional ways of being within their own traditions. They had such a commitment to justice and what that looked like in their respective communities. It was an almost immediate connection with the people there, coupled with lots of laughter.  

After that, I decided to apply to HDS, and I came about a year later. I could have gone to any number of theological graduate schools to complete that requirement, but I think I chose HDS because of our sense of wholeness when it comes to spirituality. The sense that we can take a class at the Medical school or the Education School and turn that into ministry. I love that HDS honors that, and that's a big part of why I came here.  

Queerness, Catholicism, and Eco-Spirituality

I grew up Catholic in a predominantly Mexican American experience of Catholicism, with a deep devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe, the Saints, and all the folklore that surround that. I still carry that with me as someone who is part of the Catholic tradition. 

At the same time, I'm also queer. And going back to the conversation about belonging, my queerness has challenged my place in the Catholic Church and forced me to claim spaces within it at the same time. What that looks like today is constantly navigating what it means for me to be true to myself, and what it means for me to be Catholic. 

Pointing toward Saints like Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Joan of Arc, and Saint Therese of Lisieux has been a big part of my spirituality. They had a really deep and expansive sense of what loving is, in ways that extend even beyond the human, and into other ecosystems and other beings in the world. That is something that I want to hold true to. It shows up a lot in my spirituality and the ways it’s grounded in the environment, which I like to think of as a manifestation of God's creation. 

As individuals, some of us have a strong relationship with different ecosystems and what our place is in those ecosystems. But as a collective, we haven't really articulated a common vision. I think this is why we have so much trouble articulating our positions on climate change and policy. This is not to say we need to create a moral vision around the environment, but rather to say that we have an opportunity to unearth truths within our own traditions, and to learn with humility from the traditions of people who have been a part of this land before us, particularly indigenous peoples. 

The Holiness of Love

Currently I'm at Boston Children's Hospital, where I'm working primarily as a Spanish-speaking chaplain. However, a lot of my past training here at the Divinity School has been in English. Therefore, phrases like “holding space”, or “ministry”, or even the word “chaplain” don't necessarily translate to Spanish very well. It's awkward, it's clunky, and I struggle. So, now I'm learning to let the patients and families give me their own language for articulating their spiritual care. 

I ask very basic questions, and the vocabulary they use around God, or meaning and faith, is what I can more easily use to reflect back. I can't come in with my own vocabulary anymore. And I think this lesson applies to the way we meet people with other traditions. Essentially, we cannot come in with our own language of what it means to articulate a moral position around the environment, for example. We can only learn from other people's languages and reflect back what they have shared. 

Being a chaplain has honestly given me a broader conception of what is considered “holy”. This is due to the fact that I have had to learn how to honor holiness in the lives of other people who may have a very different worldview from me, whether it is about politics, religion, race, or gender. I've had to grow the capacity to learn what is holy in their lives, and to take that seriously.  

I had one interaction with a patient who had trouble talking and had to communicate by writing on notebook paper. And as she struggled to write, she told me that she was preparing to be her husband's co-caretaker now that they were both in a place of poor health. As a chaplain, to receive that note and see the love that was poured into it was beautiful. That is what “holy” is. I still carry that specific note with me, almost as one would a prayer card. 

Additionally, every time I talk to a patient nowadays, I try to light a candle. When I'm done talking to that patient, I blow out the candle. I've since extended that to my classes. It is one simple thing that has allowed me to acknowledge the holiness of the moment, even if it is through a phone call, or a video call, or a class on Zoom. This has been really centering for me. 

I am also a beekeeper and now that it’s getting warmer, I'm ready to be with my bees again, and check on their hive more regularly. Bees have the capacity to leave the hive, explore, and then come back to their community. For me, there's a sense of connection that comes with that. During this time where I'm somewhat isolated, I can welcome these bees back from wherever they went and feel like I m a part of this world, especially when I see all the pollen they have returned with from flowers miles around me. 

Interview by Suzannah Omonuk; photos courtesy of Steven Fisher

[mymothershumility]

neverflownwithme asked: ❝ i’ve waited all these years for you to admit we’re made for each other. ❞

past transmissions || { always accepting }

{ @neverflownwithme​ }

Even in the late stages of spring, the air remains cool and crisp so far north. Winds howl through the trees, cause the branches to twist and sway among the treetops. For a moment, the gale increases, fueled by the thundering snap of leathern wings and a dragoness’ roar.

The earth groans under Sunfyre’s descent, ground shaking as the dragoness alights first upon the walls of Winterfell before descending into the training yard. Form lowering upon the flagstones within the training yard, golden scales gleaming in the late afternoon light, the dragoness stills to allow her rider to slip from her back. Her only movement comes when she cranes her neck back, offering her head and snout as a brace for her rider.

Laira is careful in her dismount, having flown from the sands of Sunspear back to the Northern seat of Winterfell. The journey had been long and her muscles are stiff from the extended time spent upon Sunfyre’s back. Gloved hands take hold of one of the dragoness’ golden horns, landing with barely a sound back upon solid ground.

Sunfyre chirps at her when she is safely upon her feet once again, golden snout brushing tenderly at her middle as her scarlet eyes look over her.

The Princess returns the affection, gloved fingers sweeping softly over her mount’s head as she smiles in return.

“Your Grace,” a voice calls out.

Laira glances up, smiling all the more when she spies the form of her good-sister crossing the training yard. Moone lopes ahead of her, the black direwolf striking a path for Laira. Sunfyre blows warm air upon the direwolf when she is near enough. Moone answers with a huff of her own, squeezing herself against Laira’s opposite side.

“Lyanna,” Laira greets the young woman, granting Moone the affection that she seeks from her. Her free hand brushes over the direwolf’s head, fingers rubbing softly upon her ears. “I gather things have been well in my absence,” she goes on, catching the woman’s eye as she takes the final few steps. There is a teasing smile already spreading across Lyanna’s face.

“Well enough,” Lyanna assures. “The staff will be relieved to see you have returned, in truth. Perhaps now my dearest brother will cease his growling and stalking about. He has been quite sullen as of late.”

Laira’s answering smile is knowing. “Be kind to him, Lyanna,” she advises, leaning to spare a parting murmur to Sunfyre. The dragoness turns without hesitance, climbing back atop Winterfell’s walls and taking flight with a solitary snap of her great wings. “He worries over me when I travel about the realm. Even with Sunfyre to look after me, he worries.”

The dragoness is already high above Wintefell, circling the great castle in widening arcs. Within moments, her mount will be hidden up within the cover of the clouds, scouring the ground from her vantage point for prey.

“Yes. To be sure, he worries over you,” the She-Wolf chuckles. She reaches and tucks her arm through Laira’s own, drawing her nearer to her as they begin to walk from the training yard. “I believe more than anything, however, is he misses you when you are away.”

“Is such a thing so horrible?” the Princess questions, a quiet laugh echoing in her words.

“Only to those who are forced to endure his moods during your absence,” Lyanna says. “None of us anticipated how utterly besotted Hal would become with you when he first met you.”

One chance meeting with the Princess at a tourney at Harrenhal celebrating King Rhaegar’s ascent to the throne and everything had seemed to fall perfectly into place for the two of them. It had been less than a year later that Hal had wed the Princess in King’s Landing.

And, it had been less than half a year ago that King Rhaegar had named Laira as his heir, bestowing the title of Princess of Dragonstone upon her.

“He will wish to see you,” Lyanna says, nodding to an attendant as they enter into the Great Hall.  “No doubt he is already aware that you have arrived home once more.”

It was difficult for the Princess to arrive in secret when her dragonmount announced her arrival in such a manner.

Lyanna leaves her on her way to her own quarters. It is a short trek from where her good-sister departs her to the doors of her own apartments. When she opens them, Laira is struck with the welcoming familiarity of them. Her time in Sunspear had been pleasing and she had enjoyed the time she had been granted with her sister.

However, Sunspear was not Dragonstone nor was it Winterfell. It was in such places that Laira truly felt at peace. It was in such places that she had crafted a true home for herself.

A fire has been stoked within the hearth. It is the first thing that she notices when she enters the space. Candles scented with orange and ginger are also burning, the scent of them soothing. What draws her attention above all else, though, is the vase of winter roses that have been set upon the corner of her desk. The roses are freshly cut, she notices. The petals of some have yet to bloom open.

Moone dashes ahead of her as Laira closes the door behind her. The direwolf makes for the door that joins her own rooms with Hal’s, nosing at the slightly ajar partition. When the door swings entirely open, Moone dashes through with a happy sounding yap. Taking one of the winter roses from the vase, Laira follows behind Moone, taking in the scent of the rose as she walks.

“The roses are lovely,” Laira calls as she enters her husband’s own rooms. She smiles when she catches sight of him. He has bent to offer Moone his own bit of affection, scratching beneath her chin and her stomach where she is flopped down at his feet.

“I thought you might enjoy them,” Hal tells her, looking up from his direwolf companion. He spares a final pat to the wolf’s stomach before standing and stepping towards his wife. “Your travels went well, I gather,” he says. As he speaks, he reaches for her, drawing her into his embrace. His mouth sets itself briefly against the crown of her head, pressing a kiss into her silver hair.

“You know me too well,” the Princess tells him, smiling at the way he reaches for her and draws her so effortlessly into him. She goes willingly, form all but melting into his hold. His hold is strong, arms secure around her.

For the first time in over a fortnight, she feels tension abandon her shoulders and the length of her spine. The peace that surrounds her is instantaneous, a sudden wave of utter contentment.

“I have always thought such a trait to be a positive one,” Hal murmurs, his voice teasing. He spares another kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. He can smell cinnamon and a hint of smoke. “I am glad you are back,” he admits, fingers tracing up the column of her spine. “I never like it when you are away for long periods.”

Not without him.

She breathes a sigh of understanding, head nestled against the line of his shoulder. He smells of the training yard... of leather, horse, and a hint of pine. Those scents have been favorites of hers for some time now.

“Nor do I enjoy being away,” the Princess says. Things are always better when he is with her. Such a thing she had come to realize long ago. “It seems we are quite the pair, you and I,” she goes on, hints of amusement hanging to the edge of her statement.

“I have always thought so,” Hal says, hand reaching for the rose in her hold. He takes it from her, leaning back until he can thread the flower into one of the braids along the side of her head. The rose comes to rest just behind her ear, the blue blooms bright against her olive complexion and the silver color of her hair. “Why such an observation now?” he asks.

“Your sister made mention that your mood has not been as it typically is,” she admits. There is no admonishment in her tone. Instead, there is understanding. “Daenerys made a similar observation of my own mood while I was staying in Sunspear.”

Laira had gone to Dorne to see to her sister, to offer comfort after the unfortunate loss that she had faced. Still, after so long, home had called to her.

Hal chuckles in response, pulling her all the more against him. “I’ve waited all these years for you to admit we’re made for each other,” he teases. “And, there are far worse things that could be said of us.”

“If I have not made such a thing most clear by now, then I have failed in my duties as your wife,” Laira says. Though her words are all jest, the princess can see the way her husband’s gaze softens as he looks at her.

“You know such a thing to be untrue,” he reminds, hand skirting around her side until his palm is pressed softly to her middle.

“I do,” she assures, her own palm settling atop his.

“I did not ask how Daenerys is faring,” Hal murmurs. His thumb ghosts over her silk covered stomach, gaze darting to quickly examine where his touch lingers.

“Better than I expected,” she admits. Though the loss had come upon Daenerys in the beginning weeks of development, Laira knew that it had greatly pained her sister and her favorites. “She was in better spirits when I departed this morning.”

“Good,” he says, thumb still sweeping across her.

“I did not mention anything to her,” Laira continues, sensing the question before Hal has the opportunity to voice it. “It was not the right time.” Of that, she knew that he would agree. “And,” she hesitates, “it is still so early.”

In the coming weeks, once Daenerys had healed more than she had and Laira was certain of matters, she might send a raven to Sunspear revealing her own pregnancy. But, for then, she and her husband were the only ones who needed to know.

[inspector-montoya-fox]

#13 - Menace from the North, eh!

Setting part 1: i mean......... whatever, right? at this point, India got 2 levels and Prague got 2 levels so i’m like ok, let’s get this over with. and i genuinely believe this and Anatomy for Disaster are the game’s two weakest episodes, despite the great conclusion. look, SP... they fucking delivered. they served absolute excellence with episodes 2-4, but it’s getting redundant and Menace from the North, eh! is just Menace from the North, meh? (please forgive me Lord). the game takes a weird environmentalist turn, which i fully appreciate but am ultimately confused by, seeing as He Who Tames The Iron Horse had absolutely nothing to do with Jean Bison’s pollution aspect. it feels weird to return to a Canadian outing after the gang had such a successful run in the previous episode, which felt like a conclusion even with the absence of a bossfight. like, SP could have easily inserted a Bison bossfight at the end of He Who Tames The Iron Horse in order to add another Klaww Gang member for an extra episode or maybe replace Menace from the North, eh! with the lost Monaco episode. it sounds like i’m bitching a lot, and i actually am. what really takes me aback every single time i play this game is that after you complete the Rajan/Contessa saga, it all becomes so anticlimactic. and i can’t comprehend why. by the end of this episode, the stakes are so high but the drive just isn’t there. and it’s not because the gang is demotivated. Sly has been having so much fun throughout the game, even with Neyla’s backstab being a huge obstacle. so getting down, dirty and serious is a much needed mood change. but i feel like i speak for all of us when i say that episodes 5-7 are overshadowed by episodes 2-4. with a few alterations to the order of the episodes and some changes to the script, i really think we could have had an awesome Contessa vs Clock-La final showdown episode and have Bison come right after Dimitri. because, honestly, Canada feels like ‘second episode’ material.

Setting part 2: i’m splitting it up because i don’t want my rant above to spoil the actual writing. the gang sticks around for another Canadian caper after some kooky stuff goes down with the environment and, mainly, the Northern Lights, which as we’ll soon find out, play a rather unexpectedly significant role in the grand scheme of things. and we’re treated to a log-chopping area, an off-the-maps secretive camp which really ups the ante, because Jean Bison is being such a jerk to nature. we’ve got deforestation, we’ve got melting ice, exploitation of wild animals, and Bison getting a raging red boner by literally destroying the environment in order to flex in the Lumberjack Games..... both the player and the gang have had enough of this dude, and i think SP used the fact that his only traits are being an angry idiot and a bigot to their advantage. instead of providing the necessary character development as they did with the Contessa and Rajan, Bison and his actions (especially his communication with the mYsTeRiOuS Arpeggio) are used as a prelude to Anatomy for Disaster. there’s not really a lot of dialogue apart from the final mission and bossfight, because the overall Klaww Gang plot begins to unravel, and particularly so by the time we find out about the lighthouse and its technological contents. in fact, if you think about it, Anatomy for Disaster starts with Clock-La’s shitshow and an info-dump at the beginning, which, if you’ve been paying enough attention to the details (i know that until i turned 12 and replayed the game as a young teen i hadn’t been paying attention to shit so it was all gasp!), is just the connecting of the dots. Menace from the North, eh! is essentially the last piece of the puzzle, before it’s all given to us in full detail by Arpeggio. i mean, apart from Dimitri serving dishes with drugs in them (i still can’t get over that at the age of 21), the rest is all things the player could pick up. and that’s this episode’s main focus. trying to prevent the inevitable under countdown, before Arpeggio’s blimp arrives to collect the Northern Lights energy. so it feels very anticlimactic and strange to put in all this effort without purpose. if you’ve played it before, you know it’s all for nothing since all the parts will be gone by the end of the episode. and it’s even more anticlimactic (although hilarious in tonal shift) to see how the gang scrambles under the pressure of preventing the Klaww Gang’s doomsday by hacking boats and having all these grandiose plans involving the lighthouse, just to then resort to taking part in the Lumberjack Games, without even a clever scheme but actually just cheating, and finally have Bison, an idiot, foil their plans by finding out where they’ve been hiding. and the bossfight is fine, but again, meh... i mean, woohoo Bentley! or whatever the fuck.

Characters: let’s talk about Jean Bison and his mistreatment as a character. we first meet him at Rajan’s ball, where Bentley introduces him as a Canadian shipping baron and says that he owns half the trains in Canada. later on, during the introductory cutscene for He Who Tames The Iron Horse, we get his backstory and how he’s risen from being practically dead, frozen since his time, and back with a vengeance against the environment. in my previous #episodeproject entry i said: SP plays up Bison’s savagery and gruesome nature by spotlighting how his plans affect the environment and even going so far as to call his house ‘the lair of the beast’. this is all true but is never put into practice. like, Jean Bison is all tell and no show, y’know? even the cutscene that plays when Sly gets caught in Bison’s cabin during He Who Tames The Iron Horse’s first mission shows Bison getting angry, but hunty, that’s about it. apart from the Lumberjack Games and his bossfight, it’s all oh Bison will get angry and oh Bison will kill us with the talons. well, where is it? where’s the fucking Canadian shipping baron with a vengeance against the environment? my baby heart was legit quivering when we had to steal Rajan’s blueprints as Bentley, and the Contessa was such a grand sleazebag of a woman, like what a douchebag - and you see that, although i’m often flamboyant in my writing (!!!), the way i describe these moments with these villains is both effective and relatable, because they showed up and lived up to their descriptions. Bison was written to be a ferocious beast of a villain but never showed that. and that’s on SP. whatever... let’s talk about the gang. now, despite the gang looking seriously badass in the opening cutscene for this episode (image below), they’re actually in a pretty good headspace. they’re only missing the talons and whatever Clockwerk parts Arpeggio had before collecting all of them. so it’s only natural for them to feel a bit cocky, and that’s actually gonna be their demise. before that, i just wanna mention that almost all the missions here (as with He Who Tames The Iron Horse) are group missions: Sly and Murray infiltrate the moose club in RC Combat Club, all three of them work together in Lighthouse Break-In, Boat Hack, and Old Grizzle Face. what really stood out to me every time i played this episode, is how, at the end when they take down Bison and they rush to the battery, each member has a different way of entering it, which is a small detail but important nonetheless. this further reinforces how united the gang has become since the Contessa levels and how their bond has strengthened. now, lemme circle back to how they’re cocky. i mean, apart from Jean Bison, Menace from the North, eh! doesn’t present any immediate danger or like trouble, seeing as both Neyla and Carmelita are absent. without any interference, the gang had lots of breathing space to plan ahead, even under countdown before Arpeggio’s blimp arrived. and they kinda wasted the opportunity because, as i’ve already mentioned, the operation was an absolute train-wreck. there’s no plan b, or like something clever or whatever. and usually, the operations tend to get disrupted by third parties, such as Carmelita or Neyla, but here, it failed because it was never smart. and it’s only natural for them to fall hard (by losing all the Clockwerk parts) after feeling all cocky (maybe i’m being too harsh). and all this directly leads to some more Bentley character development.... again. look, i’m all for character development, but the turtle already faced his demons when he busted Sly and Murray out of jail. i know we got Murray vs Rajan, but i don’t know, Murray was always kinda just there throughout the game. the hippo had his ups and downs (face-off with Rajan, imprisonment, losing the van), but not a fully realised story arc. that’s why, when Sly 3 starts off with his enlightenment and return, that story arc is instantly so iconic. i could go on about how Bentley gains self-confidence after defeating Bison, but um, we’ve already done that sis.

Themes: He Who Tames The Iron Horse and Menace from the North, eh! should have been one episode and i truly believe that. they could have shared the same themes. for the former, i said there’s the speed theme, and that applies here too because the gang are under pressure. the countdown lights a fire under their asses and it’s all very destructive. again, there’s an antithesis between the calm Canadian atmosphere and the chaotic energy of the missions. but it’s not just speed theme anymore, it’s more like theme of ferocity. everyone’s kinda on edge??? Old Grizzle Face is a motherfucker and we get up close and personal with the eagles, lasers destroy huge ice pieces, there’s a mammoth, the destroyed oil manes create fiery air drafts... chaos. and it all results in the disastrous events and outcome of the Lumberjack Games, which make Menace from the North, eh! the straightest episode in the game. yuck. it only makes sense for the missions to become less sneaky and more destructive as the stakes get higher and the gang is in a hurry, and that kinda embodies the pollution motif/ environment motif. it’s less of a theme and more of a motif because it’s so story-centric, but that’s the other things the comes into contrast with the calm environment. saws, the buzzing, chopped-up logs flowing down the river, tree stumps spread across: these embody the pollution and the harm Jean Bison has been doing even though it’s a forced storyline in my opinion. and finally, size theme. it’s not major, but it feels like everything’s bigger in Canada... Sly feels so puny in this episode, like especially when climbing the lighthouse. the wild animals are huge, the structures are huge, Jean Bison’s house is huge. it’s just lots and lots of nothingness. if you took absolutely nothing and enlarged it by 10 times, you’d have this episode’s hub. and this is also seen in the bossfight when tiny Bentley takes on Jean Bison. so yea.

What I Like: gliding off the lighthouse and throwing fish onto already stinky guards before Old Grizzle Face rips them to shreds. also, those cute lil catfish-lookin viruses in Bentley’s hacking! they’re so adorable.

What I Don’t Like: erm... it’s not that i don’t like this episode, but i find it kinda boring? apart from interacting with the wild animals, the missions are meh. and i hate the Lumberjack Games...

Quote: Get too close and old Grizzle Face will be eating barbecued raccoon for dinner.

[autisticstarseed]

if u could, perhaps, bless us with all the applicable symbols from that fic ask for hvh 👀

ooOoOOOoOO Rub s gay hands togehter omg ty friend 😍;;;;;;

💡 - What was the motivation behind the story?

hHH i hadnt written in 10+ years so when i latched onto this plot idea i just thought itd be a good time to jump the shark and try it again !! i just wanted smth really edgy and depthful bc im emo and the rest kind of snowballed

💎- What was your favorite part?

osdlfksd;lf it’s hard to pick a fav but the drunk scene was definitely the most fun to write at least

⛰️-  What was the hardest part?

THE SCENE WHERE THE GANG IS KIDNAPPED BY ENKI,,,, i debated toning down the violence but in the end i knew where the story was going (and where its still going) and that its gonNA be kinda dark so why hold back now ig

🎭- What was the feeling or mood you were going for?

BITTERSWEET AF,,, sort of just treading the line of ‘hopeful’ and ‘hopeless’ at all times to fully portray the feeling of being at your lowest, but with that classic tss ‘silver linings just around the corner’ kind of undertone

🏟️- Who was your intended audience?

mostly all the adults that watched tss as a kid and felt like spirituaLLY MOVED BY IT cuz i really tried to tap into that Emotion Tee Em we all felt when we found out that zak was [redacted]

🔬- Was there one scene you were building up to/knew you had to get just right?

hHH theres actually a LOT of scenes like that and i think a lot of my general motivation to keep going comes from that ‘WAIT FOR IT WAIT FOR IT’ vibe slkdf:SDF but the Plot Twist tm in the latest chapter was definitely a big’n, and theres a few more of those still to come :^)

🗝️ - What were you thinking when you wrote it?

kjdjFSDs:DF tbh whenever i start really writing, [’im shifting into soup mode’ seinfeld meme voice] im shifting into maladaptive daydreaming mode

🎥- Were there any tv shows, books, or movies that influenced this verse, if any?

:^) devilman crybaby pls forgive me for everytHing

📈- Was there a clear character arch you wanted____ character to go on?

i actually have a short list of what i somewhat consider to be the story arcs in my notes !! mostly just for organization and obvs i wont list the future ones but so far we’ve seen the kushtaka arc, the enki arc, and now we’re in what i call ‘the annunaki’ arc.

🎢- Were there any scenes you were nervous about? For audience reception or otherwise?

ALL OF IT JSHDJSKD, but again a lot of the enki scenes i was worried would be too edgy TM, and the whole annunaki plot as well i was worried might be too ‘out there’ for ppl, but it takes the story exactly where i always wanted it and lines everything up perfectly so i went for it lol. i was also ofc worried if people would like ila or not bc oc but most ppl love her actually which is so 😭❤️

☠️- Did you consider killing off any of the characters? Did you?

8^) [mickey mouse voice] this is a surprise tool that will help us later ,

✉️- Did you title your chapters? What title do you like best?

yes! the next one actually has my favorite chapter title yet, but so far i like ‘so strikes the harpoon’ since its a throwback to the first couple chapters

☀️- Was there symbolism/motifs you worked in?

o every single paragraph is an overly thought out middle school poem im entering in the talent show actually

🎵- Did you have a playlist/piece of music that went with this story?

Yes !! i have HVH insp part 1, Part 2, and an extra one for all those songs that have the vibes but just dont fit enough to make sense in a playlist

📜-Do you want to write something like this again in the future?

probably ! ive learned i definitely like the edgy/darker and emotionally driven stories with ongoing plot, so that trend will almost definitely continue. idk if ill write a dystopia again anytime soon, but i think my future stuff will at least retain that long and heavy vibe

💁- Did readers influence/change any part of this story?

oh yEA like basically i was ready to quit after the very first chapter before it was even written and kinda just got it all out on a whim of motivation but was expecting to flake on it like i tend to do with projects, but the invested response to it was just so uplifting that its what ive been riding on all ten chapters and im so grateful for it :’)))

✏️-Would you go back and change anything if you could?

hHHHHHHH yes and ok this is terrible but i actually tend to avoid re-reading my older chapters until i hAVe to bc i suffer from that sO much ,,, , its just little things like tiny words i wanna change or bits i wanna take out/put in and once or twice ive even caught a mistake or plot hole/smth i forgot to add that i rly do have to go back and edit and i just turn to dust every tim e

⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?

i really liked the northern lights scene!! it was meant to be a pivotal moment of that ‘bittersweetness’ vibe i was talking abt and it was another one of those scenes i had been planning for a while;;;

“ I think of how much the rest of the family would love this. This isn’t like the moon and the sun, where I can see it and know that even if it looks different, they’ll see the same one soon enough, wherever they are. This reminds me only that I am not with them. It stings. It seems unnatural for something so gentle and natural to appear before us as if we aren’t in complete, total fucking chaos. After all we’ve been through, and the sky still dances. “

📣-What was the best piece of encouragement you got?

AVERY ALL OF UR LIVEBL OGS AND COMMENTS GIV ME SUCH L I FE, ,, ,, CRYIGN CAT FA ce

🔦-Did you learn anything while writing it? About yourself? Writing?

isdfhSDF YEs, part of my hesitation to write came from this thing where i always just assumed there was a wildly high standard of writing in fandom spaces like in original literature spaces, where you had to have like 10+ sentences to a paragraph and you had to describe every tiny detail of a setting and you had to follow every single grammar rule or it was unreadable but like. genuinely its like sculpting with words as long as you have a shape ppl get the idea which is such a weight off my shoulders lol, its still a lot of work but so much fun to know i can to an extent do what i want and ppl actually like it like that. i also learned that like most other writers i have to cause my favs emotional and physical pain,

🎁- Any writing advice for people who want to write something like this?

hhHHHH 1. please do it its so fun just give in to the edge my guy , 2. try to get comfortable re-reading your chapters, for me its like when ppl listen to themselves sing/act but im trying to do better bc its so much more consistent when i keep it fresh in my mind and it also boosts confidence when u can pick out the things u like instead of the things u dont, 3. trying to have at least one scene in mind for each chapter that ur excited to write so u can have motivation to update faster! for me it doesnt have to be smth i think would excite the audience either like it could be the most basic thing but just having an idea of it and knowing i want to see it come to life rly helps me stay on top of it all

TY SM FRIEND THIS WAS SO FUN <3 <3 <3 (heres links to read for anybody that wants them btw x x )

[orangeflavoryawp]

Jonsa - “At the Start (At the End)”

Anon requested ‘one or two paragraphs of Jon coming to Sansa the night before the war and telling her his feelings’, so of course I write this 3k+ monstrosity that may or may not constitute as such.  I mean... I GUESS.

On the eve of the Battle for Winterfell. Fits as a missing scene during 8x02. Placed directly after the scene of Jon, Sam, and Edd on the ramparts of Winterfell, after the war council meeting. Season 8 compliant up to 8x02.  Mild M.

At the Start (At the End)

‘Why did you come here tonight, Jon?’  Maybe it was pointless to come in the first place. Maybe nothing changes.  (Maybe everything changes.)  -  Jon and Sansa.  What it means to remember.

* * *

“Think back to where we started.”

           It’s a striking reminder, standing there atop the battlements of Winterfell, staring out into the dark and cold, his Black brothers beside him.  Only, when Sam’s words are meant to bring forth memories of Grenn and Pyp and Lord Commander Mormont, it’s suddenly copper hair and frantic fingers at his back and the warm, hollow of her throat beneath his breath instead.  It’s the look in her eyes when she had stood trembling before the gates of Castle Black and run to him – breathless and aching.

           Suddenly, it’s Sansa at the start.

           Jon’s jaw clenches beneath the realization.  He grips his gloved hands together, running a thumb over his knuckles, shrugging his cloak closer.  “I’ll find you later,” he tells Sam and Edd, turning to leave without preamble.  He stalks down the stairs, Ghost already trotting ahead of him, as though he knows.  And why wouldn’t he?

           His feet have known this path for longer than he should be willing to admit, some part of him already yearning for her in the dark, and when he turns the corner to the hallway of her chambers, he finds Ghost is already waiting before her door, looking back at him expectantly, and Jon could laugh.

           How blaringly apparent he’d been.

           His hand stills just before knocking at her door though, and everything comes rushing back like a wave of sickness.

           The threat he brought into their home – the unburnt queen warming his bed.

           His hand curls back, retreating.

           Before he can turn from the door, Ghost scratches at it, releasing a low, long whine.  Jon shoots the direwolf a desperate look.

           “Ghost?”

           Her voice from beyond the door stills the breath in his chest and before he can question it, Jon clears his throat, answering “It’s me.”

           There’s a steady beat of silence where he simply stares at the door, and then her soft “Come in” broaches the quiet.

           He enters swiftly, Ghost loping eagerly into the room and stopping at her lap, where she sits in the chair by the fire.  Her smile is instant and singularly private when she sets her sewing aside to wind her hands into his fur, gliding over his ears and along his sides in fondness.

           It makes Jon’s chest tighten with something he can’t name.  “Sansa.”  It’s more a croak that leaves him.  He clears his throat, straightens his shoulders.

           She glances up at him, her smile wilting only slightly, but it’s enough to stir him forward.  “He wanted to see you.”  He motions to Ghost with a shrug of his shoulders, an impish grin lighting his features.

           Ghost throws a blank stare back at him, and Jon huffs, fingers curling and uncurling nervously.  “Alright, boy, come on.”  He waves the direwolf back and Ghost trots over, passing him and stopping just outside the door, resuming his watch.  Jon takes a moment to ponder the direwolf’s quiet vigilance before he shuts the door, turning back to Sansa.  He looks at the table by her side where she laid her sewing.  His eyes catch sight of a familiar jerkin.

           “What are you…?”  He stops, licks his lips, something blooming between his ribs.

           Sansa glances to the material, grabbing for it when she stands.  She fingers the lining hesitantly, taking a deep breath.  “You tore it the other day.”

           He keeps his eyes on the jerkin.  “I hadn’t even noticed.”

           “You hardly ever do,” she says, swallowing thickly, before setting the jerkin aside.

           He wonders then, how many shirts of his and how many breeches and how many boots has she mended?  How much thread and how much time and how much tender care has she spent?  He wears her touch daily and doesn’t even notice. Doesn’t recognize the work of her delicate hands until it is staring at him here, in the firelight, in the night before the end.

           Jon rubs a hand over his mouth and sighs.  “You needn’t do that, Sansa.”  Because saying anything else seems an insult.

           She lifts her chin, hands folding behind her back.  “I wanted to.”

           Jon stays staring at her, the dim light of the fire casting shadows over their forms, and then Sansa sighs, her shoulders slumping with it as she turns to face the hearth.

           “Is it so wrong?  To want to be needed? To want to be useful?”  Her words are a tight whisper, her body a rigid line.

           Jon takes a tentative step toward her.  “You are needed, Sansa.  You’re the Lady of Winterfell.”

           She scoffs – lightly though, hardly demeaning of a lady.  “Much good that will do me now.”

           Jon’s brows bunch in confusion.

           Sansa releases her hands from behind her back, pressing a worrying thumb into her opposite palm, the motion registering in Jon’s mind with a stain of uneasy familiarity.  “Tonight will belong to the soldiers, the warriors.  And I will huddle with the other women and children in the safety of the crypts while my family bleeds for us.  Again.” Her hands are shaking now, her thumb arcing in nervous circles over her open palm.

           Jon steps up beside her, a hand at her elbow.  She turns at his light touch easily, as though it has always been thus between them.  “You bled your fair share for the North already.  We need you down there.”

Her lips thin into a tight line but she doesn’t answer him.

“You will protect our people, like you always have,” he says, voice low and sure.

           She levels him with an incredulous stare.  She shakes her head, eyes flitting back to the fire.  “I will never swing a sword like you or Arya.  I will never host visions like Bran does.  I am no help to you.”

           Jon huffs in aggravation, and the sound draws her attention once more.  His hand falls from her elbow.  “’Swinging a sword’ didn’t win us back Winterfell.  It didn’t unite the Northern houses, it didn’t feed or clothe our people, it didn’t keep this place going when I sailed south for allies.  You did that.”

           “What, with mending jerkins?” she asks scathingly, motioning at her forgotten work on the table.

           “Yes,” he nearly barks at her.  Because he doesn’t know how to tell her that she mends more than that when she puts her hand to the needle and works the thread.  She mends more than split seams or houses or hearts.  Sansa looks at the woes of her people and she doesn’t turn away. She listens.  She heeds.  She learns. She leads.

           Jon doesn’t expect to last the night, not really.  He’s thought this for a long while.  And maybe it’s a selfish wish of his, because he doesn’t know how to manage a throne-crazed dragon queen if they win the war against the dead. Some part of him has always expected to perish before he had to.  Perhaps even to perish with Daenerys.  After everything, it would be a just end.  After everything, he’s only known how to protect.  And if keeping the North alive meant bringing the Targaryen conqueror to Winterfell, if it meant appeasing her want and granting her false affection, if it meant laying his pride at her feet like a proper traitor king – if it meant Sansa and Arya and Bran and more were not meat for the Night King (because some things are not worse than death, Jon knows) – then he will give himself to the slaughter.

           He will give himself to Daenerys Targaryen.

           (What isn’t already hers, at least.)

           “What, will I sing a hymm for the terrified ladies?  Soothe them with false comfort?”  She says it derisively, but her eyes have taken on a desperate sheen, lost in some memory he thinks he might never be privy to.

           “Don’t be silly, Sansa, there’s more to it than – ”

           “’Silly’?  I suppose it must sound silly to you, oh seasoned warrior.”

           Jon sighs, and he lets the anger sink back beneath his skin for a moment before speaking.  He isn’t angry with her, after all.  With everything that’s led them to this, to this conversation, to these words, to this war-worn Sansa he wants to bundle in his arms and keep to his chest – yes, angry with that.

           Anger so familiar it sticks to the roof of his mouth with tart recollection.

           “You’ll direct the wounded,” he begins.  “You’ll tend the children.  You’ll run the supply of arms and food if it turns into a long enough siege.  You’ll be our first and last contact when the walls break.  You’ll be the one who gets our people out if this all goes south.”  He’s staring at her, demanding this of her, because he knows she will do it.  He knows she can do it.  She’s the Lady of Winterfell, and she knows what it means to bleed for the North better than any of them.

           Sansa blinks at him, breathing hard, swallowing back whatever heated reply she might have had on her tongue in favor of exhaustion.  It’s writ all over her face, in the arc of her shoulders and the curve of her neck.  She swings her gaze back to the fire.  She flexes her hands.  She licks her lips.  “I suppose I… I needed something normal.  Something… familiar.”  Her hands stay locked before her, her sewing still laying forgotten on the table behind them, lost in the shadows their figures cast from the fire.  It’s the closest thing to an apology he expects to get from her, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.  

           But Jon nods, because he thinks he knows.  It’s in the hard hilt of Longclaw, and the sharp draw of a labored breath, and the subtle throb of aching muscles.  Familiar.  The fight.

Familiar.

He’s just so tired of the familiar – the blood and the snow and the long, dark nights.

She laughs then, so soft and so jarring and so alien.  Jon startles at the sound.  Sansa covers her mouth with a hand, smothering the noise.  “I’m sorry, I just…”  And then another soft chuckle, but he can see the wetness at the corner of her eyes.

“Sansa.”  He reaches for her cheek before he even realizes it.  But she shakes her head at his touch, swallowing back her tear-laced laugh, and his hand retreats to his side, his fingertips alight with her warmth still.

“It’s so stupid.  It’s so stupid.”

Jon turns fully to her, his hands lighting along her arms.  “Sansa, please, what is it?”

She shakes with it, sniffing back her tremulous laugh.  “Sometimes I still remember Father’s promise to me.”

Jon rubs up and down her arms, silently urging her to continue.

“Someone who’s brave and gentle and strong,” she recites, shaking her head, eyes downcast.

Jon doesn’t know what to do but to listen.  To just listen.

“I still want it, in some worn-away, ruined part of me.  I still want it.  That promise.”

Jon blinks at her, hands stilling at her arms, and suddenly it makes sense.  He swallows down his trepidation and takes a deep breath.  “Sansa.”

She meets his dark gaze with her own teary one.

“This isn’t the end.”

And how hypocritical, he thinks.  Because he’s already resigned to it himself.  He’s already laid that burden to rest.  But the idea of Sansa – the very thought – it doesn’t… it could never be.  This scenario doesn’t include anything for her but survival.  He’s already bled for it, knelt for it, laid his crown at the dragon’s feet for it, so – no. No, this isn’t the end.  Not for her.  Never for her.

(Sansa is the start.)

“Sansa, listen to me.”

And she does.  She stills so suddenly and so thoroughly that he thinks she’s stopped breathing entirely.  But it’s there – just barely.  The slight rise of her chest.  The subtle flare of her nostrils.  The restrained flex of her throat when she stares at him expectantly.

His hands find their way to her face, cradling her cheeks, her hair bunching beneath his fingers and she sucks in a breath at the motion.  His eyes flick to the draw of her mouth for only a moment, only a hesitant breath, and then they find hers again – needful and daring.  “I promised to protect you.  Always.”

Sansa opens her mouth but nothing comes.

“Do you believe me?”

She stares at him dumbly, breath hitching.

“Do you believe me?” he asks again, this time harshly, this time with the reckless heat of something dark staining his words.

“No one can protect me.  No one can protect anyone.”

How the words haunt him at night.

“Yes,” she breathes lowly, a quake of a whisper.

Jon releases her face, breathing heavily. His features softens at her exhale.

And then her fingers are bunching in his tunic, holding him to her.  “Tell me we can win.”

But this he cannot.  He stares at her, mouth a thin line, and in the flicker of recognition that passes her eyes, he thinks he also sees terror.  His hands fold over hers at his chest.

“Sansa, you have to do something for me.”

She hasn’t stopped staring at him, eyes wide and salt-tinged.  She nods mutely.

“When the time comes, you need to leave.  Flee south.  Make your way to Riverrun.”

Her hands release her hold of him instantly and he feels the loss keenly.  “No,” she says without pause, stepping back.

“Sansa.”

“No.”

He growls then, a barely held thrum in his chest, closing the distance between them once more.

She braces a hand to his chest to stop him and narrows her gaze at him.  “I promised to never go South again.  And I meant it.  I will not leave these halls.  Not ever.” She pulls a deep breath, her lip trembling.  “Please, do not make me.”  Her hand slips from his chest.

The break in her voice tears at him in ways he isn’t ready for, and he shakes his head, rubbing a hand down his face as he sighs heavily.  “If we can’t hold them…”

“Then we can’t hold them.”

“Sansa,” he snarls, pressing into her.

She stumbles back, surprised at the heat of his anger.

“I told you this isn’t the end.  The Starks will survive.  You will survive.  Even if that means going South when the dead overrun us.”

Sansa blinks at him, brows furrowing, and then she’s pressing back, stepping into him, her furious breath pooling in the air between them.  “And what am I without the North?  What am I without my family?  Without you?”

Jon rears back, throat dry.

           “You say it like it is some easy thing to leave this all behind.  And maybe it is – to you.”

           “What?  That’s not – Sansa, you know I – ”

           “And how could I expect anything else?  After all, I went south and became a captive, but you – ”  She spits the word, harsh enough to brand his cheeks with the heat of her exhale, his own chest rising in indignation.  “You went south and became a consort.”

           Jon’s growl hits the air like a Northern wind, and he moves into her, hardly even noticing when she steps back at his closeness.  He stalks her back against the desk until she stumbles to a stop, hands grasping behind her vaguely for the table top.

           “Jon,” she warns – breathless.

           “You know what that was,” he says lowly.

           She stares back at him, eyes hard, licking her lips.  “Do I?”

           Jon narrows his eyes at her.  “I did whatever I had to do to get her – her armies, her dragons – here.  And I’d do it again.”

           Sansa nearly flinches at that one, and he has the sense to feel ashamed. But not enough to stop.

           “We can’t do this without her, and I wouldn’t…I couldn’t let it just… end like that.”

           “Do you love her?”

           Jon’s glare hardens as he sucks a sharp breath through his nose.  “Sansa.”

           Her fingers curl tightly against the desk behind her.  “You never answered me before.”

           He sighs, and it seems to take everything from him.  “I didn’t think I had to.”

           She swallows tightly, silent, chest heaving.

           And suddenly Jon realizes how strangely beautiful Sansa is.  Not in the far-away, untouchable sort of sense he once thought of when he remembered his lady sister from all those years ago – a child still, really, a delicate, sun-lit child with a face full of Southern yearning and hair the color of the Red Keep’s walls.  

           No. Sansa is beautiful in the way her frost blue eyes meet his unblinkingly and the way she wears her Northern furs like a second skin and the way she mouths his name in equal fervor whether it’s ire or affection.

           Sansa is beautiful in the way she signs her letters and the way she pours her wine and the way she holds her hand out to catch the snow.  In the way she fingers the tip of her needle and hook chain when Bran takes to his visions, and the way she teasingly cocks a brow toward Arya at Gendry’s passing, and the way she lays the winter roses at Robb and Rickon’s graves.  The way she nuzzles Ghost and laughs at Tormund and stands with Brienne.

           The way she fights for him.  Even still. Even now.

           But Sansa is also beautiful in the way that will never – should never – be his.

           Jon sighs, rubbing a hand over his mouth, suddenly aware of how very close he’s standing to her.  He takes a step back, throat tight with an unspoken ache.  “It’s going to be a long night, Sansa.  You should… get some rest.”

           “Why did you come here tonight, Jon?”

           He meets her gaze for a beat, finds her eyes intent and focused on his.  The sheen of wetness is gone.  He takes another step back and she follows – keeps the space between them barely a breath.  His chest tightens inexplicably, his jaw working over words that never meet air.

           “Why did you come here?” she repeats.

           This time he doesn’t retreat when she presses closer, her chest bracing to his, her fingers lighting along the fur of his cloak, her eyes shifting between his – never blinking, never wavering.

           He suddenly thinks back to the war council meeting, Sam’s words lingering in the air around them.  “That’s what death is, isn’t it? Forgetting.  Being forgotten.  If we forget where we’ve been, and what we’ve done, we’re not men anymore.  Just animals.”

           And maybe it was pointless to come in the first place.  Maybe nothing changes.

           Except, it was Sansa at the start – it was Sansa at the start – and he thinks maybe there’s a reason for that.

           (Maybe everything changes.)

           “Jon?”

           “Because I don’t want to forget,” he mutters on a swift exhale, his hands fisting with the effort to not drag her into him and kiss her wholly, unrepentantly.

           Sansa’s mouth parts in recognition of the words and he reaches up to hold her jaw, his thumb bracing against her bottom lip.

           She stills beneath his touch, her fingers curling slightly in the fur at his collar.

           He leans in, presses his thumb harder into her lip with a keen sort of need, trembling – standing there at the precipice, at the edge, just a fall away, just a spiral down, down, down and he could taste her, sink his teeth into that glorious wolf skin, drink her moans and swallow down that sweet, haunting aftertaste.

           Her eyes never leave his when her tongue darts out to wet the pad of his thumb, shivering at his groan, and suddenly he isn’t standing at the precipice anymore – he’s tumbling down, flailing desperately, lost to her.

           His hand pulls back from her lip to be replaced with his own mouth, his arms winding down to her waist and tugging her roughly to him.  They stumble with the force of it back against the desk, his hips pinning hers, his teeth sinking into her lip when he takes her gasping mouth.

           Her hands are in his hair, her back arching under his touch when his moan fills her mouth and nothing in the world matters but this –

           But that she kisses him back.

           “I don’t want to forget,” he pants against her lips when he pulls from her, and her hands are already tearing off his cloak, his fingers tangled in her skirts. “I don’t want to forget this.”

           “Good.  Because I won’t let you.”  She gasps when his tongue finds her throat, his hands going under her thighs to heft her up onto the desk, toppling her ink well and scattering her scrolls, the dark pool of ink slowly staining her skirts but he’s already back between her legs, sucking at her throat again, tugging at the confines of her dress.

           When he lays her back against the hard wood of the desk he sees the dark swirl of ink at the edges of her copper hair – a great blackness not unlike the one he knew when he first left this world.

           Because there was nothing on the other side.  Not even memory.

           And memory is what makes them men.

           Jon kisses her, and kisses her, and remembers.

           It was Sansa at the start.

           (And it will be Sansa at the end.)