#give mott rights

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of Wild Blue Yonder - Part Three

Excerpt from Benjamin Cook's article on Bernard Cribbins in DWM #598

It’s a crisp Monday morning in Camden Market, and all is OK with the world. Because it’s 16 May 2022 and, just for one day, Bernard Cribbins is back on Doctor Who. “Wilfred Mott! Now I feel better,” declares the Doctor, stepping out of the blue police box parked up on the cobbles. “Now nothing is wrong. Nothing in the whole wide world. Hello, my old soldier.” A pause. “Shall I give you a hug,” asks David Tennant, “before I say, ‘Hello, my old soldier’?” “Yeah, why not,” replies Bernard, sat in his wheelchair, centre stage, framed against the iconic TARDIS. “Give us a cuddle!” Clad in Wilf’s cozy brown coat and flat cap, Bernard is rehearsing the final, climactic scene of Wild Blue Yonder, the second of Doctor Who’s three 60th Anniversary Specials, alongside David Tennant and Catherine Tate. None of them knows it, but this will be Bernard’s last working day in a TV, film and theatre career that spans almost 80 years (he started work aged 14, at Oldham Rep in January 1943). It’ll also be Wilf’s final bow. “I never thought I’d see you again,” he tells the Doctor, welling up. “After all these years. Oh, Doctor, that lovely face.” A chuckle. “It’s like springtime… Is it David’s face I’m looking at?” queries Bernard. “Yes, you haven’t seen him in years,” the director, Tom Kingsley, jumps in, “and you could not be happier. You’re playing it just right, Bernard.” “Well,” says Bernard, “no acting required.” He’s genuinely delighted to be reunited with his Doctor Who co-stars, for the first time, on screen, in 13 years. “And that is just materialising, is it? – that thing?” he asks of the TARDIS. “Wilf’s been here, waiting?” “That’s right,” says Tom.

For other posts in this set, please see the #whoBtsWBY tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

Thank you to everyone who shared filming photos!

[spicy30]

Lycanthropy

Pairing(s): Cregan Stark x Fem!OriginalHybrid Reader, Bennard Stark (Uncle of Cregan Stark) x x Fem!OriginalHybrid Reader

Crossover: TDV/TO→HOTD

cw: graphic scenes (violence) major age gap (Reader is 1000+) PTSD, Self-resentment, unnecessary cruelty, Stockholm syndrome???

Rating: 18+

Add-ons: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, reader is NOT sentimental, Slow-burn

2/2

(Not Proofread)

WC: 11.7K

A deep guttural sound ripped from your throat. You clawed at your clothes ripping them off. It was cold here. Where that witch had sent you, you didn’t know, but here you were in cold white woods. 

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want your bones breaking. You didn’t want to hear as your screams morphed into growls. You didn’t want to be a hybrid. You yelled out cursing Klaus for dragging you down with him. 

Never once did you ever want to acknowledge you were a bastard. You had been such a daddy’s girl even if he did not love you as much as you loved him. It did not change that in your heart Mikael had been your father, you still wanted him to be your father, even if he did want to kill you all. 

That is how you phrased it. 

Mikael wanted to kill everyone, not just you. It wasn’t personal. Your father didn’t just hate you. You couldn’t have been a bastard. 

Yet here you were crying out in pain as you grasped at the trees as each bone in your body broke and rearranged itself. Here you were feeling as your eyesight was impossibly enhanced and you could see in ways you never did before. Here you were feeling as your fangs grew larger than ever before. Here you were smelling everything, including the nearby town filled with women and children who were crawling around like maggots. You hadn’t felt this strong in centuries. Not since you first tasted human blood, not since you ripped apart your first human in an attempt to sedate this inhumane hunger that now consumed you.

You let out one final yell in agony before it turned completely into a snarl. 

It’ll be a massacre. 

You tore through men, women, and children alike. You had never feasted on human flesh before, only their blood. It was pure animal instinct, this urge to kill, this urge to rip out the insides of anything and anyone that moved. Your favorite part was the heart. The muscle was partially fun to chew through. The blood vessels seemed to pop in your mouth as you drank the blood. You couldn’t count how many heads you ripped off, how many people you tore in half, how many infants you chewed through feeling their mushy heads burst under your teeth. 

It all felt so good. You ran through the cold woods, heading towards the next town that would sedate these cruel desires that were forced to lay dormant for near millennia. 

…

“I heard the thing tore right through Torrhen's Square then the next day it slaughtered everything in sight in the Deepwood Motte. Not even the babes were spared.” You perked up angling your ear to the voices. 

“May the gods give them rest. A stroke of ill fortune to be in the beast's way.” A gruff voice spoke out. “The beast leaves the bodies half-eaten. It eats hearts and other times eats the belly of the person leaving them torn in half, but in all the babes, it only ever eats the head. The monstrosity is hunting for sport.” The gruff voice spat out.

“We’ll see how well it hunts when I use the skin of the beast as a coat and its head hangs in the Great Hall.” Another spoke, this one seemed to be the head of the hunting group. 

Your tongue licked your snout, cleaning off blood from your latest kill, though it seemed you just found the newest batch of victims. 

Running towards them using your supernatural speed you reached them in no time. You leaped out taking the head of one clean off. 

The only thing the men heard was the plop of something behind them. Rickon Stark turned to see one of his men without a head. Instinctually he went to stand in front of his son, Cregan. It had been a mistake to bring Cregan. 

Rickon knew he should’ve left him behind. He was his only heir. The only one he had left since his youngest son died in childhood. He had to protect Cregan. He looked around for the creature and his men drew their swords. 

A soft crunch was heard and Rickon turned to face the thing. A wolf. A wolf the color of sunlit ivory that seemed to glow with dawn itself. In its mouth held the head of his fallen comrade. The wolf closed its jaw and the crunching of the skull was heard as the wolf dropped the now disfigured head.

Rickon watched in horror as his men charged and in what seemed to be the blink of an eye all of them were on the floor bleeding out crying out for mercy. One was clutching his throat which had a chunk ripped out. Another was holding the inside of his thigh as blood sputtered out in ways Rickon had never seen and the other had his head caved in. The last one, however, forced Rickon to put his hand out covering Cregan’s eyes as he watched in horror as the wolf pulled the organs out and the body laid out, nearly bit in half.

The wolf turned its sights on him and for the first time since his first battle, his hands trembled as he held his sword. The wolf lunged at him and before he could blink Rickon felt teeth biting into his internal organs. He looked down as the wolf opened its jaw making the hole in his stomach bigger. The thing had rammed its snout so hard into him that it punctured a hole in him. Rickon was already dead. He knew this, however, his son was not. Rickon grabbed the fur of the wolf and pulled it towards him as he steered himself away from Cregan. The wolf jerked itself while its snout remained inside Rickon. 

He gritted his teeth and yelled as he brought up his Valyrian steel sword, Ice, and drove it down on the wolf. It gave out a cry. 

“An abomination!” He yelled out and he felt the wolf pause from its jerking. 

“You are an abomination.”

Familiar words echoed in your head.

“That is a pretty dress.” You smiled inching forward towards the maiden. “You were always so good at making them. I asked you for one, remember?” 

The girl in front of you began crying. “I promise I’ll make you one! Just please! Please have mercy.” 

“No, I want the one you have on. Give it to me.” Dark veins pooled under your eyes as you felt your fangs protrude. Why your family hated this, you could not say. You loved the power it gave. No one could stand in your way, no one could say no anymore. 

“Now?” The girl asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, now. Take it off and give it to me.” Though you had yet to kill anyone, if this girl took any longer she would be your first. You watched in amusement as tears streamed down her face as she trembled. As you continued to watch her your smile faded. She moved like a tortoise. 

“What will I wear?” Your patience snapped at her question and in the blink of an eye you sunk your teeth into her as she screamed. You pulled her head away for better access, though in your excitement you pulled her head too much and it ripped off. Her blood splattered all over your pretty yellow dress.

You dropped the body and held the head in your hand tilting your head to the side. 

“Imbecile. You made me rip off your head and ruin the dress.” You murmured before drop-kicking the head off into the woods. You grinned and kicked her headless body with such force that you heard the snap of the spin as it was flung into the woods. 

You turned to walk away before your leg broke under sending you crashing to the ground. You screamed out in pain. Just as quickly as it broke, it healed and as you went to stand up your arm broke and once more you screamed. 

As your bones kept breaking your screams echoed through the forest. You looked up seeing your mother looking at you as if you were a monster. Your father was not far behind as your collar bone snapped. Blood filled your every sense, blood on your mouth from your first kill, the smell of it, the feel of the warm sticky blood felt disgusting on your overly sensitive skin, however, the worst was your sight. When you looked up to your father, he had a look of disgust as he looked towards you, every single crease of disappointment on his face you could see as your vision sharpened. 

“You are an abomination.” The words came out of your father's mouth. The same words that had been told to Niklaus when it was discovered what he was. A bastard, and now here you were proven to be another fruit of your mother’s frolicking.

You cried and begged saying that it wasn’t true. You screamed and cried as they tied you to the same post-Niklaus had been on. Though as you cried you did not fight him and instead were willing to let yourself be tied. Niklaus was the only one who fought against your father. You yelled to Niklaus to let you be. That you were not a bastard like him, that this was a mistake. You loved your father and your father loved you. 

You kept repeating those words over and over as the ceremony to lock away the ugly parts of you that you swore did not exist, proceeded.

You tore yourself out of the man who repeated those same words to you. You inched backward trying to get the sword out of you. 

“Cregan, my son! You must go, run back to Winterfell! Go!” Your eyes darted to the boy who stood there in terror. He looked no older than twelve or thirteen. As if you finally came back to yourself to overpower that animalistic instinct to kill you stood still watching the father cry out to his son. Pleading for him to leave, saying that he loved him. 

It tugged at a heart string though it was quickly overtaken as the father pulled his sword out of you and you let out a yelp that now sounded more human. By accident, you slammed your paw down and it caved in the man’s chest and consequently his heart.

Cregan looked over to his father who whispered out a final ‘I love you’ before he died. He saw steam rise from the gaping hole in his father’s stomach and the wolf pulled its paw out of his father’s chest. Piercing amber eyes met Cregen’s gray ones. Those eyes, they looked ravenous.

Cregan does not know why his body moved the way it did but all he knows is that he was swinging down Ice on the wolf’s body like one would chop wood. 

He heard the wolf’s cry though it was a disturbing cry. It almost sounded human under the wolf’s cry. It was as if a woman was crying out in agony along with the wolf. Cregan kept swinging the sword as blood splattered over him, on his eyes, his mouth, his face, his clothes, and his hands which made it hard to hold the large sword that was much too big for him. Ice nearly cut the wolf in half. It only clung together by skin. 

“Cregan!” At the sudden shout of his name and the blood that coated his hands and the hilt, Ice slipped from his grasp. He turned around to face his uncle, Bennard Stark, and his three sons; Benjen, Brandon, and Elric Stark. 

They stood still as they watched him. There he stood covered in wolf’s blood and a nearly cut-in-half wolf lying under him. Bennard Stark rushed over to him picking up Ice and dragging Cregan away from the bloody scene. Cregan only looked towards his uncle with blank eyes and trembling hands. 

“What happened to Cregan?” His uncle asked him and he could not find it in him to speak so he pointed to the wolf, though to his utter horror, it was gone, only a bloody trail was left. It was impossible for anything to survive that. The wolf’s body only clung together by skin! Cregan was sure. 

“Benjen, Brandon, Elric follow the trail. If you find it, cut the damn head off.” His uncle commanded and Cregan shook his head. They would die, if that thing survived its injuries and was restored to its former form, his cousins would be dead in seconds.

…

You had managed to get away, but just barely. The sword that little twat used slowed down your healing exponentially, though your spine reconnected but just barely so that you were able to crawl your way out of there. Your supernatural speed in the use of crawling had gotten you at least a mile away. You panted and cried each time you dragged yourself forward dirt and rocks were lodged into your lower half, inside of you slowing your healing even more. 

Your cry became less wolf and more human as you dragged yourself forward eager to get to the town you smelled. You need to feed and fast. The next time you clawed forward a human hand showed with long claws instead of a wolf’s paw. 

As time passed you reverted to your human form yet you were still nearly cut in half, this time you didn’t have fur to shield you against the cold of the snow. Your ears picked up steps, not far from you and you cried out for help. An old woman and a young man came running and she screamed. The man hugged the woman shielding her from the view.

“Help me. Please…” You begged. They weren’t close enough for you to compel them. 

“How are you alive?” The young man questioned looking down at your naked body and the dark and dirty entrails that spilled out of you though there was no more blood to leak out of you, the vampire side of you kept you alive.  

“Just help me.” You begged once more. Finally, the man let go of the old woman who you assumed was his mother, and cautiously crept over to you. As he bent down you looked up making eye contact with him.

“Give your arm and don’t scream.” You compelled and the man wordlessly gave you his arm and you bit into it. 

The woman screamed for her son and you let go. “Get your mother and bring her to me.” You compelled him once more and he grabbed his mother harshly bringing her to you. 

“Shut up and wrap me with your coat.” You compelled her as well and continued feasting on the man’s arm. Stopping you waited for your healing to increase, but it didn’t, it kept healing at a slow pace only just barely keeping you alive.

“Damn it.” You muttered. You looked up and gave an order for the man to pick you up and take you to their home. 

As you entered the small village you looked around and then smelled the air. You’d recognize that smell anywhere. You had lived in it for nine centuries. 

Just what had that little Bennet witch done to you? 

You looked up towards the man who held you. “Invite me in.” You told him and he did. They set you down on their dining table. “Rinse me and sew me back together.” Wordlessly the man and his mother left and you were left on the table looking down. It was disgusting to see. Part of your liver and large intestine were beginning to form again. The man came in with a bucket of water and the woman with a needle and string. 

You clenched your jaw. No way in hell were you staying awake for this. “You’ll shut your mouth about all of this and you will stay by my side until I command it otherwise.” You compelled them both and they began to start preparing for their work. Just as the man went to clean your dirty entrails you stopped them.

“Wait, break my neck first, then work and if I wake and you are not done, break it again.” You told the man and he went and made quick work of you. 

The next time you woke you were screaming in pain. Your spine was fully intact now and that meant all of your nerves were now reconnected. Just as quickly as you woke, you felt your neck snap and once more you fell into darkness. 

The next time you woke your body was whole again, but you could still feel your insides rearranging themselves slowly. That damned sword. What had they used? Had it been anything else you would’ve been fine by now. You looked down to see stitches circling your torso keeping it together. You stayed there on the table shivering from the cold air. When was the last time you were this cold? 

As a vampire, you never felt the cold, you were dead. What has this new side done to you? Damn, Klaus, you had begged him to leave you be. You could care less about this ugly side of you. You’d rather not relive the moments where you were deemed a bastard. This new side of you, made you aggressive, much like how you first were when you were a vampire. You thought back to your time as a wolf. Every single kill, you remembered. The burst of blood in your mouth, the skulls crushed in your jaw, the crying of the women and children. The men who charged at you only to be killed a second later. 

However, the most vivid memory was of the scared little boy whose father you slaughtered in front of him. Why him out of all the people you felt sorry for, you couldn’t say. You probably could’ve killed him and spared yourself this suffering, but you let the boy do this to you. A punishment for being the monster that your father always said you were. Revenge for what you did to his father, justice for the lives you took. 

You clenched your jaw but felt something sharp stab the inside of your mouth. You picked your teeth to pull out the thing that stabbed you. As you inspected it you sighed disappointment. A piece of skull. You threw it to the side and simply laid it on the table. 

An abomination your father said.

You had killed families, infants, mothers, fathers, and seniors, no one was spared but the boy. You were not your brothers. You were not Klaus, or Kol, or even Elijah for how noble he pretended to be. Your siblings never felt regret for their killings. 

But you did. You were different. Right? Your father did not just hate you. You were kind before. You felt remorse. You were NOT an abomination. 

A debt was owed. A human life was not long in the span of all eternity. You could do the right thing and repent. You were not like Niklaus. You would not remain guilty of the sins your father had condemned you for.

What was the boy’s name again, you tried to recall? You walked through the memories of blood and carnage. 

“Cregan, my son! You must go, run back to Winterfell! Go!”

Cregan. That's what it was. Cregan from Winterfell. 

“Where is Winterfell?” You asked out loud knowing your newest slaves were never too far from you. 

“Only a half a day’s ride away. Just East of here.” The woman spoke as she sewed flowers on the dress you had told her to make you. 

“And who is Cregan?” You asked again. 

“Cregan? He is the heir of Winterfell, oldest of Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of North.” The old woman answered once more. You gave out a hum of approval as you laid back on the table shivering slightly as the cold air washed over your naked and broken body.

…

At only thirteen years old Cregan succeeded his father. He sat in the Great Hall in the chair his father used to sit in and in his lap laid Ice. He felt the metal rest heavy on him. A large sword fit for a large man, yet here he was, only a boy holding a sword fit for a man. All because a wolf had taken his father away from him. 

A Dire Wolf that was on their banner and represented House Stark. Yet it was a wolf that killed his father. Every night since then he has slept with Ice. That demon wolf was out, somewhere, lurking. He would not rest soundly until that wolf’s head sat hung in the Great Hall like his father wanted and he used the coat to clothe himself. 

Cregan sat in the Great Hall with a permanent scowl on his face as he listened to the Lords speak. His uncle sat next to him. He would reign as regent until his fifteenth name-day. Two years, two years would be enough to hunt down that beast. 

“My Lord, I present you with a gift. You have lost your father, I will give you someone who can deliver the support a man needs.” Cregan looked up towards Lord Tallhart, his holdfast had been the first to ravage the beast. “I bring you someone who has managed to bring stability once more to Torrhen's Square, now I give her to you, My Lord.” The doors opened and Cregan watched as a woman walked in. A golden ivory dress she wore. The same color as the wolf. That color was forever ingrained in his mind. He watched you walk in and bow. There was something about you that seemed familiar. Something about the way you carried yourself and the way you spoke. It puts him on edge like he should be wary of you. 

“I thank you Lord Tallhart, but my nephew has no needs that can be taken care of by a woman. For that, he shall have a wife.” His uncle spoke and Cregan watched your eyes narrow at his uncle. 

“Of course, I would never dare to insinuate such a thing. However, I do not give her for duties that a simple whore can manage if one so desires. This woman can offer support unlike anyone, if you are displeased with her I will gladly take her back.” Argued Lord Tallhart. “I implore you to take her.” 

Cregan watched as Lord Tallhart vehemently argued for you. What kind of support did you offer? Cregan was well aware of the things whores did for men, his half-sister was born due to these ‘supports’ whores offered. Cregan signed and agreed to take you if it would stop this incessant arguing. 

He watched you bow and meet his eyes. Your eyes were sharp and familiar. What kind of support would you offer this young lord?

After the meeting was conducted Cregan walked the halls of the castle holding Ice close to him. He was often allowed to leave due to still being in his mourning period. As he walked these halls that seemed so big and dark to him he felt the wind brush his hair. He gripped Ice tighter and turned around only to see no one there. No servants roamed these halls, there was no one here but him. He sighed and kept forward with a tight grip on Ice. As he turned once more he heard the air rustling behind him. This time Cregan unsheathed Ice. He stayed still looking around, was the wolf back? No, why would the wolf be here, in the castle? The wolf could not be here. 

The wolf was not here. 

Cregan felt his breath escape him. He held on to Ice so hard that it made the sword shake. He sheathed the sword trying to calm himself. The wolf was not here. Should anyone see him holding out Ice ready to strike air they would call him mad. The heir to Winterfell cannot be mad. 

The wolf is not here.

He didn’t feel safe here. He needed to get to his father's chambers. As Cregan walked through the dark halls, he felt as if something was watching. Something that shouldn’t be here. Something that shouldn’t exist here. Something that was displaced and had no right to be here and it was watching him. 

The wolf. 

It echoed in his head. The wolf echoed in his head. The promise of love his father had told him. Cregan’s steps grew hurried. He ran through that dark hallway to get to his father’s chamber room. 

There was something on Cregan’s heel as he ran. Something was breathing down his neck. 

Cregan turned the corner and hit something and when he looked up he felt as if those same ravenous amber eyes of the wolf looked down on him. His breath was caught as he looked up at you. He couldn’t move as he looked at you. His hands spasmed as he tried to grab onto Ice for stability.

It wasn’t until he was eye to eye with you and your calming words that he felt his breath come back to him. When you spoke it felt like a cool river rushed through his veins covering his body. 

“Are you alright, my lord?” you asked, reaching out a hand. Cregan nodded and took your hand. It was soft and warm; you almost seemed unnaturally warm. There was an underlying fear Cregan had of you, and he couldn’t explain why, yet he felt as if he could not respond accordingly. “Shall I accompany you to your chambers?” you asked, and Cregan shook his head. If anything, he needed to get away from you. 

You watched as Cregan left you behind. You sighed in annoyance. All you wanted to do was a little repenting to make yourself feel better, but this brat wasn’t letting you do it and of course, you couldn’t just compel him, it had to be natural, despite the fact you just compelled him to calm down, but that was different, the kid was gasping as if he was drowning. 

However, the look in his eyes. You knew that look anywhere. 

Fear. 

It radiated off him in waves. He knew you, he recognized you. 

A cruel smile bloomed on your face and you felt your vision sharpen and lock onto the fleeting figure of Cregan. You dug your fingernails into your palm drawing blood. You breathed in his scent of fear. You grabbed onto the wall next to you. You had to stay put and calm down. The stone cracked under your strength. Damn, Klaus, it has taken you a near century to get your impulses under control. Amongst your siblings, and even Klaus, your thirst for blood was unmatched. That first century of learning to control yourself was pain. You would watch as your siblings would spill as much as they so wished while you were forced to stand on the sidelines eating scraps. Your hunger for blood drew you to rip heads off, even if you didn’t want to. It was an animalistic urge that, unfortunately, ran a lot stronger in you than in any of your other siblings.

It proved to be a problem. In only fifty years the rumors of your bloodshed reached worldwide, and thus The Brotherhood of the Five were born to kill you and your siblings and unfortunately, gave Klaus the weapon to put your siblings to sleep. Once Finn was put to sleep as a consequence of your actions, your siblings, Klaus included, put you down and forced you to get your appetite under control. You had been clean for nearly nine centuries, it would’ve been millennia had it not been for the slip-up in the 20s with the introduction of another who was like you. 

Stefen Salvator. 

Your brother let you loose along with Stefen, and when your fun ended once more your animalistic urges were put down, like ripping out the claws of an animal. To take the claws from a predator is to leave it bare to the world.

While your siblings were free to turn whomever they wanted once again you were forced to sit on the sidelines and watch. Your blood was infected with this disease of being unable to control your hunger. They say when freedom fades, even sunlight feels pale and so the lines you sired were always put down like lambs to slaughter.

You were never allowed to love another knowing you would always have to ask for someone else to turn them, lest they turn out to be a monster like you. You never understood why Rebekah asked when she simply could. It was a luxury you did not have yet your little sister never used. 

And now here you were, alone in the world, with no brothers or sisters to keep you in check, no father to hunt you down. Nothing to kill you. This bastard side of you was pulling you. Bad enough you had already torn through towns, who would help you overcome this? 

There was no one here. You’d have to rely on yourself and your will, but there was never much of that.

…

Weeks passed and Cregan continued to avoid you like a plague. You made his hair stand on end. There was something about you that wasn’t quite right. Your smiles were saccharine yet Cregan was never one for sweets. You were indeed helpful and your knowledge of medicine was unmatched. He understood why the Lord Tallhart said you were like a pillar. In only a few short weeks you had become the backbone of Winterfell. Sickness had always run rampant in Winterfell due to the cold, but with you, those colds seemed to disappear. You always seemed to be the one everyone was looking for. 

Yet despite all of that Cregan couldn’t shake the anxiousness that you brought him whenever he looked at you.

Today was no different, once more you had gone out to do charity work for the commons, cured illnesses, and healed broken bones, and Cregan stayed far away from you. At first, even his uncle stayed far away from you and in turn, also had Cregan keep a distance from you, but now, as he looked at his uncle talking to you with more interest than a married man should, it seems his uncle has also fallen. 

Though Cregan thinks his uncle is far too old for you. You looked to be around Cregan’s age, if not only a couple of summers older. 

“My Lord, we have looked in the Wolfswood, there is no sight of the beast. You said it to be a sunlit ivory, we have not encountered any wolves of that coloring. Winter is coming and all the wolves are white here in the North.” Cregan listened and subconsciously gripped Ice. 

“Mayhaps it has perished with its injuries.” The man spoke and Cregan shook his head. 

“There would be a corpse, why is there not a corpse?” Cregan gritted his teeth. He hasn’t been able to sleep these past few weeks. He always felt as if the wolf were watching him and it terrified him more than he’d like to admit. 

“My nephew only wishes to exact revenge on the Wolf that took his father, my brother, your late lord. Find the wolf. Perhaps it has gone South. I saw the coat myself. That wolf is no Northern wolf, it might’ve found its way to the Hornwood forest or even The Neck’s forest.” His uncle, Bennard Stark spoke. He knew his uncle only wished for the best. If his uncle did not back him on this, it would give the appearance that Cregan is mad with grief and riddled with fear of a wolf and Starks do not fear wolves. 

Cregan clenched his jaw as he entered his chambers and dressed himself in his night clothes. He laid down on the bed that once belonged to his mother and father, Ice was never far from him as he thought about his next actions. He could not rest until he knew the wolf was dead for sure. There Cregan lay in his father’s bed trying to forget the snarling the wolf gave out, the cries it screamed. Slowly but surely Cregan fell into an uneasy slumber. 

A wolf’s howl sounded and Cregan shot out of bed gripping Ice as he looked around the room that was lit by the fireplace in his chambers he could not see anything. But once again he heard the howl of a wolf. He breathed heavily before he felt his throat tighten. He was Cregan Stark, heir to Winterfell. He could not fear wolves, yet he was feeling as if were going to cry because of the howling of a wolf. 

Once more he felt his breath escape him as he held his face in his hands. 

A knock sounded and Cregan could not gather enough breath to tell them to leave him. He looked over and swore he saw amber eyes in the darkness. He crawled away unsheathing Ice holding it towards the door. He watched as you walked in with what he saw as false concern and your hands up. 

“My lord, are you alright?” You asked, looking at the terrified boy. “Calm yourself.”

Every time you spoke to him, he fell into a trance—a trance that was impossible to escape. Your voice scraped the edges of silence, stirring shadows that lay dormant in his mind. 

“Who are you?” He whispered trying to resist your calling. He listened as your words danced around in his mind and fog invaded his senses. 

Cregan doesn’t remember much from that night or any nights that follow afterward. All he knows is that every night you enter his chamber rooms and the next morning he is awake sleeping through the entire night without a single dream.

One thing does not change, however. His fear of you does not leave him. Not even as you dress him, prepare his bath, bring his meals, brush his hair, or even as you tell him stories of what you depict as love. 

“And so the little brother who doomed his family swore off love for everyone and once more the six siblings ran away.” You finished as you finished the last button on Cregan’s coat. 

“How old are you?” He shivered at your unnaturally warm touch. You looked down on him and once more gooseflesh pebbled his skin. Cregan believes that he will always fear them. 

“Old enough to know that you will be late to break your fast if you do not go.” You always did that. You never really told him anything about yourself. Not your age or where you came from. He didn’t even know if you had a father or a mother, but he’s sure you have siblings. The stories you tell him are always about five siblings, sometimes six. You spoke with fondness, like how he would if he spoke about his younger brother. 

As he went to walk out he turned around only to see you tending to his bed. He walked out of his room, however, something compelled him to seek you once more. As he reached the room he gave a sharp gasp. The air whistled within the room. The same whistle that tormented him that day in the hall. He swallowed his fear and looked inside. He didn’t know what to expect. What would he do? 

Cregan felt his hand twitch for Ice. Ice was nowhere near him. Ever since you had lulled him to sleep that night he no longer reached for Ice as he once did. What if this confirmed everything he thought of you? What did he even think of you? As he looked his brows furrowed. There you were putting Ice on a counter then you went to put out the fire. It wasn’t what you were doing that confused him, what left him puzzled was that it had been seconds since he stepped out and yet his bed had already been made. 

That should’ve been impossible. No maid could make a bed that fast, yet in front of his eyes, his bed had been made. He took a step backward shaking his head. It wasn’t right. You weren’t right. There was something about you. Something about you that was unnatural. 

Cregan turned away quickly and walked down the dark hall, this whistle of the air a faint sound.

…

Your teeth grazed the neck of the sleeping boy. You felt the heat radiating off his body and you could practically taste his blood. He still reeked of fear but being this close to him. His blood tastes sweet, almost too sweet or so you would imagine. There is something about these Starks, their blood holds something that they have never tasted before. You have tasted the blood of vampires, werewolves, doppelgangers, humans, and the blood of the Brotherhood five, but the closest you can imagine Cregan’s tasting like is the blood of witches. Like a sweet thick flavor with a slight burn. The burn was stronger with Stark blood. You had fed off of Bennard Stark once. Nearly ripped the man apart.

It was addicting. It ignited that animalistic urge that you now tamed by burning yourself. 

You panted desperately trying to keep yourself in control and keeping your groans as quiet as possible as your skin bubbled from the heat of the fire trying to tear yourself away from Cregan’s neck. 

You whimpered as your skin ripped and the blisters on your hand popped. You tore your hand away from the fire and yourself away from his neck. A deep sense of disgust began to fill your being as you stared at the peaceful sleeping figure of Cregan. You dug your nails into your palm and quickly made your way into your bedroom. 

On your bedside was a piece of cloth submerged in a bowl. As you reached inside the bowl a single sounded as your skin began to burn and smoke rose. You gave another whimper as you grabbed the cloth and rung it out before balling it up and stuffing it in your mouth. You nearly scream as you feel the burning on the inside of your mouth and some of the water goes down your throat burning you from the inside. 

In another bowl, there was a rope submerged in the same liquid. Undoing your dress you trembled for what was to come, you trembled from the cold, and from the burning sensation that has yet to stop. 

You stood naked as tears fell from your eyes and muffled cries sounded. You grabbed the wet rope trying to bear the burning on your hand. You whipped it backwards and it struck your back and a loud singe was heard along with a muffled scream.

You whipped yourself with the vervain-laced rope and choked on the cloth that was soaked in wolf’s bane. 

It was the only way. The only way to sedate this urge, this bastardy that plagued you. It was the way you were put down by your siblings. The only way disgust would not consume you. You would not stop until your back was raw until all the skin on your body was new. Shedding of the old skin for new. A new beginning.

As your skin bubbles and pops you think back to Cregan and the fear he emits anytime you look at him. Another crack of your makeshift whip sounds and once more you cry out before clamping down on the soaked cloth and wolf’s bane is squeezed out burning you. There had to be another way, another way to make him feel at ease that was not by compulsion.

Your head. 

You cried into cloth and tears streamed down your cheeks mixing with the wolf’s bane. It slid down your throat and burned until your wolf’s bane tear fell on the top of your breasts, burning them. 

The only thing that would possibly calm Cregan was your head, more specifically the head of your wolf form.

You felt your legs give you under you as you gave a final whip to your back. As you fell forward your temple hit the sharp end of your bedside table. You let go of the rope and grabbed your temple as your world spun and your sight went in and out. The only thing keeping you conscious was the healing of your raw back, however, both bowls spilled on top of you and you screamed as the burning liquid soaked your entire backside and for the first time in a century you passed out from the pain.

You nearly gagged from the overpowering scent of wolf’s bane and vervain. You opened your eyes and looked over to see Cregan sitting there with Ice firmly in his hand. 

“What were you doing?” You heard him mumble out though your eyes only zeroed in on the light scratched on his neck from your teeth. Tearing your eyes away from his neck you looked at the boy who only kept eye contact for a couple of seconds before looking away. You heard the way his hands gripped Ice. Disgust crept onto you once more. 

“I have to go home.” You sighed out looking away from Cregan. If it was your gaze he feared then you would not look. “My brother…” Though you craved to see his widened gray eyes and the slight wobble of his lips as he spoke to you. You shut your eyes. “My siblings. I need to go home for a little bit.” You bit your tongue and turned to him and he turned his gaze down towards Ice. A small sense of satisfaction filled you. 

“Why?” You hear him ask. It was small and meek. You tilt your head slightly before shutting your eyes and turning your face away from him. Only then did you hear the grip on his handle on Ice lessen. 

“Because…I miss them,” There was a tone change towards the end of your sentence. Almost as if you were asking a question. You simply needed to leave. 

Did you miss your siblings? 

You hadn’t seen Finn in over nine centuries or Kol for two. The last you had seen of Rebekah was in the twenties. Elijah and Klaus kept you on a tight leash since you couldn’t be daggered, not like Klaus would. Despite his constant badgering about telling you to keep your hunger under control, he would shove humans your way and pretend to not see when you ripped them apart. It was like when you were both little and he would give you extra pieces of bread under the table during dinner then claiming he didn’t know anything about the crumbs on the side of your face. 

Elijah despised this and was constantly on you to keep clean. You were always a messy eater. When Klaus would fail to keep you under control it would be up to him to dirty himself to bathe you in Vervain, just like how he would clean up the crumbs on the side of your face so that father would not see.

Were they looking for you? Did Elijah really kill Klaus? He wouldn’t. Not even if Elijah really wanted to. If he truly killed Klaus then he would have no one. Not even you, not the way you are now. Maybe you did miss them, even if it was only a little. 

“How many siblings do you have?” Once more his quiet voice sounded. Cregan was quite talkative today. It would've been great if it wasn’t for the constant waft of Wolf’s Bane and Vervain.

“Seven, though I never met my oldest sister. She died in childhood a couple of years before I was born. I do not even know her name. However, currently, I have two. Elijah and Niklaus. The rest…are gone.” You would never see your siblings again. According to your little brother —Niklaus— they were buried at sea. Maybe Elijah would kill him for that. 

“What happened?” You fought the urge to look over towards Cregan, lest he turn away from you. Though as you began to think of how to explain your family and how your siblings weren’t dead but they might as well be you fought the urge to smile. This would be perfect.

“My youngest brother, Henrik was killed by wolves.” You heard Cregan perk up as you kept your eyes closed trying to keep your smile down. “My brother Niklaus took him to see wolves hunting. Unfortunately, the wolves did not capture their prey and instead mauled my brother to death.” Slowly you opened your eyes and turned to face him ever so slightly. Cregan this time did not turn away. You both stayed like that. Simply looking at each other and once more disgust plagued your body. You had nearly bitten into him last night. 

“What about…your other siblings?” He whispered once more. You took in a deep breath and looked up with a bitter smile.

“My eldest brother Finn was…” How could you explain to him that your family was tired of his constant badgering? Though you never were one to mind it. Your entire family constantly berated you for your tendencies. Finn, despite his demeanor towards the rest of your family, was surprisingly more understanding of you. He made his comments to you every now and then, though he seemed to understand that you simply could not control it. Finn was the only one to never judge you or condemn you. There were times throughout the centuries when you almost successfully pulled the dagger out of Finn or simply stayed beside his body. 

Klaus and Elijah would tighten your leash whenever you got too close to him.

“Put down for…crimes against my family.” You decided that was the best way to frame it and you heard the slight shift in Cregan’s posture. “My brother Kol was very…wild and it got him put down as well.” Technically they weren’t dead, but they might as well be. “Finally my little sister Rebekah…fell in love with the wrong person.” There were more people than people but he didn’t need to know that.

“Why did you leave?” So many questions he had. 

“My two brothers began to fight. I stayed with Niklaus at first, but then I left for my brother Elijah. Niklaus was not happy with me but in the end forgave me…soon after,” You struggled to come up with something that would explain your presence. It’s not like you were here by choice. “I was brought here. To the North I mean and now I’d like to go home for a bit. See my brothers.” 

…

It was strange not having you here. You had been gone only a week yet a crucial part of his routine was now missing. 

You were missing. 

In the end, Cregan had let you go. He was never planning to deny you, but it was the most he learned of you throughout your entire time here and while a part of him did feel more at ease with you gone there was a strange yearning for your return. 

How strange it was. 

How strange it was to have you speak to him at night and lull him to sleep with your stories only for him to never be able to recall them in the morning. How strange it was to have other maids dress him instead of you. How strange it was to never carry Ice as much as he did.

However, what was most strange was that he constantly thought of you. The fog that used to cloud his mind seemed to be gone if only for a little while. 

Cregan picked at his food looking out the window into the Wolf’s wood. Suddenly his cousins burst into the dining room with blood-soaked armor. All three of them had such bright smiles. Cregan pushed his food away standing to greet them while his uncle reprimanded them for their poor manners. 

“Father, look! Here cousin we brought you a gift!” Elric pulled out a red-stained gold ivory coat. A wolf’s hide. Cregan’s breath hitched and he gripped onto Ice. 

“By Viserys, what is that?” His uncle swore. “You didn’t clean it!? Where is the head? Did you cut off the head?” 

As his cousins explained how they caught the wolf, Cregan felt as if his ears were being plugged with cotton. All he could do was try and reclaim the breath that seemed to escape him. He felt sick. The taste of the chicken was fresh in his mouth. The white glossy meat and the waft of it nearly made him vomit. 

Breath.

Even when you were gone you helped him. Your voice was clear and echoed in his head and suddenly his breath returned to him. 

“Where’s the head?” His voice took on such a tone that he had never mustered before. All three of his cousins turned their attention swiftly to him and so did his uncle. In that instant, he did not feel like ‘Cregan Stark, Heir to Winterfell’ but instead like ‘Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North.’ 

His uncle coughed and smiled. “Yes, your father wanted to mount the head in the Great Hall. A wonderful suggestion, nephew.” 

“I want to see it. Bring it to me.” There it was again. The tone of ‘Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North.’ 

Breath.

Once more your voice sounded in his mind and a calm filled him. It wasn’t long before they brought the wolf’s head before him. Those amber eyes now clouded over. How did they find it? How did they kill it? What his father and his men could not do his cousins did.

Cregan reached his hand out to touch the matted coat. It was so cold. So different from the warmness that coated his hands when he first sliced into it. Cregan could not look away from the eyes. The eyes that seemed to have plagued him for the past couple of months. They didn’t seem so familiar anymore. They were just so cold. Those amber eyes he swore he saw whenever you entered a room. Those amber eyes glinted and now those same amber eyes were clouded and cold. 

This head was so cold. Death is cold. 

The night was cold.

Now Cregan shivers under the covers of his bed. It is so cold. Everything is so cold.

It is so different from you. You were so warm. Unnaturally warm. A warmth he craved now as he shivers under the covers of his sheets. His hands touch the soft golden fur that lies atop his bed.  They sent the head away but the image of those cold amber eyes was clear in his mind. Those eyes were cold, nothing like yours. You were nothing like the cold head that sat at his table in the morning or like cold golden fur that brought him no warmth.

Every night after that night was cold. So unbelievably cold for Cregan. 

For the rest of his life, Cregan swore that it was the coldest month the North had ever experienced even if no one else recalled.

So shivering he crawled out of bed roaming the halls of his keep. It was dark. He kept his hand on the warm walls of his keep. He leaned against them, relishing the warmth they brought him. This night is dark and full of terrors yet in these halls he feels warmth and light. When he breathes it is clear and refreshing. He continues to roam his warm halls. They almost brought him the warmth your hands did whenever you buttoned his shifts or when your body heat hit him whenever you would coax him into bed. He would have to light a fire in his room to keep himself warm without you. 

Cregan walked to where they kept the firewood but stopped when he heard a moan. His head snapped towards the sound. His father had told him that he was reaching the age where he would soon become a man. It was not unnatural for him to creep closer to the sound. Curiosity was a good thing, right? 

It came from his uncle’s room. His wife was away. The door was slightly ajar and another sweet sound came. His eyes looked through the slit in the door. There was a feminine figure moving up his eye raking her figure greedily taking in the sight. He had never seen another woman in this light. She seemed divine, almost unnaturally so. He watched as tilted her head upward and another sound came from the woman. It was almost cloying. His breath hitched when he realized who it was.

There you were pleasuring yourself on his uncle as a red bead rolled down the side of your mouth onto your breast that was cupped by his uncle’s hand. There was blood on his uncle’s chest and on yours. His eyes trailed up your naked body and asserted that the blood was not coming from you. 

Cregan gave a small gasp as he saw the gaping wound from his uncle's neck, spurting out blood every couple of seconds. 

He sees your head turn with disturbing speed. Cregan doesn’t remember what happened all he knows is that he awoke in his bed with a warm sticky feeling in his pants the next morning.

Were you here? Had you come back for him? He was unsure of what to do with himself. Had he dreamt of you? That would be the first. Cregan has never dreamt of anyone. Cregan was not unfamiliar with sexual acts. His cousins once brought him to a brothel outside the walls of Winterfell. He saw what he only thought was for marital duties to be performed. To think of you was new. He saw a slight tent through the covers. What was he supposed to do now? What if you came in?

Cregan waited in his bed until a bath was brought to him. He eagerly took to the bath trying to rid himself of the stickiness. He watched the maids take away his sheets and the coat of the wolf. It was to be made into a coat, one that he would wear when he would inherit Winterfell and claim the title of Warden of the North.

When he had finished washing himself the maids came and dressed him. Their hands were cold on his skin as they buttoned his shift. Flatting his attire he walked out to meet his cousins and his uncle. Uncle Bennard seemed to be in high spirits. Flashes of memories flashed before Cregan eyes and grimaced though there was no sight of any irritation on his uncle’s neck. He had been sure there was blood spilling from his uncle’s neck yet there was no sign. 

Has it really been a dream? It felt so real. Your name fell from Cregan’s lips and his uncle turned to him. 

“She is expected to return either today or tomorrow.” His uncle spoke. So you weren’t back yet. What a strange dream, but that’s all it was, a dream. You weren’t back yet. 

“Come nephew, we have petitions to hear today.” His uncle commanded. Cregan followed closely behind his uncle along with his cousins. 

When he stepped into the Great Hall the first thing he caught sight of was the preserved head of the world hung on the wall. It had been preserved in a snarling manner. The pink-brown gums are on show while the incisors and canines are on full display. The pupils of the wolf permanently dilated and now a much clearer color than what he saw the other day. 

All Cregan could do was stare at the wolf throughout the meetings. He knew as the future Lord he really should pay more attention to his people, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Looking at it, he doesn’t know how to explain it, but there is a sense of giddiness. He feels as if there is something good happening. Something good will happen. 

The day seemed to pass, though, to Cregan, it felt like no time had passed at all. He had spent his time observing every crinkle of the snarl on the wolf’s face. It truly was a beautiful creature. For a moment Cregan wishes it had really died by his hand. Then at least he could’ve seen it in its beauty before he killed it.

It wasn’t until he was brought out by his uncle that he finally ripped his eyes away from the wolf’s head. His uncle told Cregan to mount his horse. Cregan listened while his cousins mounted theirs and his uncle prepared another horse once he finished prepping his own. All five of them rode out through the East gate to the town outside of Winterfell’s walls. 

It wasn’t long before Cregan saw who the extra horse was for. There you were in a simple blue gown with linings accentuated with ivory coloring. Uncle Bennard was the first to greet you. You gladly took his hand helping you mount your horse. It had been so long since he had seen you. Sure he had dreamt about you, but to look at you, it was something else. Have you really looked like this all this time? Cregan supposes the only time he really looked at you was to see your eyes. Those eyes that held such familiarity. 

How well they suited you.

The entire ride back he spent looking over towards you while his uncle took up your time and attention. Much to his surprise his cousins did not seem to mind this excessive attention put on you. Cregan is not his uncle's son yet he feels frustrated that his uncle is acting in such a way with you. One would deem it most inappropriate. 

After all, you were gifted to Cregan, not Bennard. Yet here his uncle was, taking up all your time when it should instead be focused-

“Mayhaps father will let me wed her.” Cregan’s attention was immediately pulled to the conversation his eldest cousin was having with Elric and Bradon. Benjen sat proudly on his horse eyeing you as your body swayed with every step the horse took. “I am to be one of the bannermen of our dear cousin Cregan.” 

“To be a bannerman you need to wed the eldest daughter of some lord Benjen.” Brandon chastised. 

Is that why they didn’t mind their father acting so inappropriately with you? Benjen wanted to marry you? You seemed to be a couple of years younger than him so it wouldn’t be a bad match but Cregan would much rather have you here than wherever it is his cousin would keep you. When they finally arrived at the gates of Winterfell you turned your attention to Cregan. He gave a small smile as he quickly rode to the stables. Much to his delight, you rode after him. 

Cregan quickly took you inside to show you the wolf’s head. He heard you give a sweet laugh.

“They have the wolf.” He said eagerly. Cregan eyed your reaction. He watched you rub your neck before smiling down at him. It was a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Have you been able to sleep better?” You asked him and Cregan was unsure of how to answer. He no longer faced night terrors as he did once, but now it’s too cold to sleep. Cregan decided a simple no would suffice.

…

You gave a loud cry as you felt the sword slice into your neck. You snarled at the man. The least the idiot could do was give you a clean death. You had even stood here letting them get close enough while you feasted on the entrails of a man. Yet here you were snarling because he couldn’t get a clean cut across. You looked towards the said idiot. 

Benjen Stark. 

He struggled to get his sword free from your neck. Luckily for you, his two brothers came and finished the job. When you awoke you were laid naked on the snowy forest floor. You got up quickly, shivering. You could smell where they had taken your head. Much to your surprise, they had left your lower body, and from that, you regrow your head. 

You walked through the forest trying to warm yourself. You smelled the air, not far from here you left yourself a little snack. You ran and found the woman you had left here, for what you assumed was hours ago, as a way to regain your strength after your head would be cut off. 

Quickly you compelled the woman to take off her dress. Once she did, you hung it on a tree branch while you trailed your nails across the woman’s neck. It wasn’t long before dark veins pooled beneath your eyes and your enlarged canines protruded from your mouth as you smiled before ripping into the woman. You gripped the woman’s shoulder trying to show a little restraint. Much to your displeasure, you broke her shoulder bone and in turn caused a gush of blood to be sent your way. 

You gave a sound of content as you greedily drank. Soon enough you began to feel a wave of euphoria take you, you pushed yourself closer to the woman. Close and closer you drover yourself opening your jaws as wide as you can to allow for more room. By the time you sucked her dry her head only hung on by a ligament of muscle.

You let the woman drop before whipping your mouth and putting on the woman’s clothes. Now that the boy had his wolf’s head, his fear of you shouldn’t be much of a problem anymore. 

“They say the ‘realm’s delight’ has given birth to another plain-featured bastard.” You heard snickering. 

Realm’s delight? 

“Seems the princess shares her delight with anyone.” Another voice laughed. 

A princess. How long has it been since you’ve played the games of court? Oh, ages. The last time was in 1820 you reckon. George III otherwise known as ‘Farmer George.’ No one ever writes stories of how fun it is to play with heads of monarchs. To see their descents into madness. It was simply divine to watch. Though playing with the ladies and their word games was never much fun. You had too much of a short temper. Ripped off the heads of many in court. That earned you a ‘time out’ for nearly a century by Elijah. 

By the time you returned, it was clear times had changed and monarchies were going out of style. What a shame. In the end, you turn to the next best thing. Politics. Playing jump rope with lines that could start wars. It was such a surge of adrenaline. 

Perhaps it’s time to head back to court, if only for a little while after your penance with Cregan. Just another…fifteen years? The average lifespan in this era is about thirty or maybe forty. Regardless, a small blip in time compared to all of eternity.

It wasn’t long before you were staring at your own head hanging on the wall. You went to rub your neck, the terrible job that Benjen had done. In any case, you had received a warning from Bennard. You had come late in the night and to say you were parched was an underestimate. Not to mention it had been oh so long since the last time you had attempted to procreate with another. It was fine, he ended up passing out mid-way. You had gotten too excited with him. A miracle you didn’t take off his head. You healed him soon enough with your blood after Cregan had come and interrupted your little rendezvous with his uncle. 

You stalled off coming back for another day. You didn’t want the kid to fear you again. Not after you had given your head to him.

So for now you would hold your disgusted face and instead give Cregan a mute smile. It was in poor taste. 

Once more you returned to your penance and every night once more you would prepare Cregan for his day and lay him to rest at night. He was growing. Growing fast. In the short time away it felt like he nearly doubled in size. Such a strange thing. You had only ever gotten as big as your short years of human life permitted you. You often wondered if you would’ve grown taller or how your body would age in your years. How your body would change with a pregnancy. If you developed those terrible eyebags your mother did when she was pregnant with Henrik? Such a fascinating thing to watch little ones grow. 

“How were your brothers?” Cregan asked as you tended to the fireplace and he sat on a chair simply watching you before looking away. You lifted a brow. Maybe you have a little bit more work to do to get rid of that fear. Though it was a bit strange. You couldn’t feel it, you could hear the slight increase in pace within his heartbeat but not the sweet scent that humans produced when they got scared. Maybe you were almost there. 

Then you considered the question. How were your brothers? Was Niklaus dead? Your only or what you assume is your only full-blooded brother (who knows if your mother had a taste of other werewolf men) was dead or did he rewrap Elijah? Probably the latter knowing just how much Elijah valued family. “They were good. My brothers are okay.”

“Were you worried for them?” Cregan asked as he leaned forward and you looked over to him. There was something your ears picked up. His voice was dropping. 

“What’s the saying you Starks have?” You looked towards the growing boy and he looked back with those grey eyes.

“Winter is coming.” Cregan did not look away as he spoke.

“Winter comes in many different forms.” You looked away from him as you pulled your hand away from the fire watching the slight regeneration happen before your eyes. The regeneration was constant. You were constantly regenerating to keep your dead body from rotting, though recently your regeneration seemed less needed. How strange everything was.

You turned and walked over to him. Cregan looked away as you began to undress him, preparing him for bed. It was a routine the both of them had fallen into. Just another fifteen years. 

(It would be a lot longer than fifteen) 

Cregan slipped on his robe as he made his way into his bed. You picked up Ice and went to hang it up. It had been a while since Cregan had asked you to lay next to him.

“When will you see them again?” You paused in your movements. When would you see your family again? Probably never thanks to that Bennet witch. Your grip tightens on the sword as a sudden wave of anger passes you. If you were never going to see your family again you would’ve rather it been on your terms. Should you ever return you’d hunt down every last Bennet witch and everyone she’s ever met. 

“I don’t know.” It was a simple but truthful answer. You didn’t know if you would see your brothers again, much less when.

“I had a brother once.” It was a slight mumble and while you really should listen to him earnestly you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care all that much. So you tuned him out as you thought about your situation. It was selfish but it was but a small moment in all of eternity. That Bennet witch. Every single one of her descendants, you’d hunt them down and throw their heads at her feet. It was always better to make a person take their own life. There was a certain art to making a person hate themselves, to no longer have a reason to live. So as Cregan spoke you thought about all the ways to make that Bennet witch rue the day she learned of your existence. 

Your back faced him until he eventually found sleep. Only then did you face him again. You looked over his sleeping form. A growing boy who would one day be a man. You wonder how he would react if he one day discovered it was you who killed his father. What kind of face would he make? 

The ends of your lips quipped upwards in a knowing smile. Maybe you’d tell him on his deathbed to see his face. The shock would kill him, or at least that's how it plays out in your mind. (You would never find out if it would or wouldn’t.)

You stepped out of his room only to feel arms wrap around you. Your nose twitched in irritation, though quickly soothed by a bloody wrist that was brought to your mouth. Black veins formed underneath your eyes and your vision sharpened. 

“What are you?” A voice whispered but so close to your ear the man might as well have been yelling. You tore yourself away from the man’s wrist. 

One moment you're in front of Cregan’s door and the next you’ve got Bennard Stark shoved against a wall away from Cregan’s chambers with a bloody smile. The amber wolf-like eyes glowed bright in the dark.

“Why don’t you take a guess…” You licked the drop of blood that fell from the side of your mouth.

“You are fast and stronger than ten men, you feast on blood yet your skin feels as if you have a constant fever…” Bennard stared into your transformed eyes then trailed his gaze to your impossibly long canines. 

“There was a time when I was as cold as a dead body.”

Note: Let me know what yall think. Lemme hear them predictions.

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To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 3 - Jimmy Darling

"Kiss"

Words: 617 (short n' sweet)

Summary: Reader wants to knit sweaters for her castmates for Christmas, forcing Jimmy to help her. She gets annoyed. (inspired by a suggestion by @melsimps)

A/N: sorry its so short and pretty much ass I was writing a paper. I might edit the whole thing tmr tbh

____

“Is this a joke?”

She looked up from the bundles of yarn around them, tilting her head to the side, “A joke?”

Jimmy scowled, holding up his hands, “Do I look like I can knit?”

“I’m not asking you to knit,” Y/N giggled, plopping a ball of yarn onto his lap, “I’m asking you to help me knit,” 

“Gee, how wonderful,” he said sarcastically, however, he did not make any moves to leave. He instead held up the yarn, allowing his love to set up the strings and the needles, “So what are we knitting?”

“We?” she mused.

Jimmy huffed, “Yes, we. I am holding the yarn, therefore, I am knitting this as well,”

“I don’t think that’s how this works, Jimmy,”

“It does. I said it does,” the corners of his lips curled into a soft smile, leaning towards her and puckering his lips.

“No time for kisses,” Y/N replied, brows furrowed as she focused on her work. Jimmy pouted, frown deepening when she didn’t even notice his huge exaggerated expression. “I want to make sweaters for everyone,”

“That’s a lot of people, sweetheart,” he stated the obvious. 

“I know,”

“That’s a lot of yarn,”

“I know,”

“I don’t think we have enough,”

“We don’t,” she paused her work to look up at him, “You’ll buy some more, won’t you, Jimmy?” 

“You want me to buy the yarn for your knitting project?”

Y/N gave him a teasing look, giving him that little smile he adored, “I thought we were knitting, Jimmy,”

Oh yes. He did say that. “Will you say they were gifts from both of us?”

“Mhm,”

He thought for a moment, but he actually was not thinking, because he already knew he would buy her a hundred balls of yarn if she asked. He simply stared at her, admiring how concentrated she looked as she looped the strings together expertly. 

“I was thinking we could do a little Christmas act,” she began, and he listened. Well, no, he did not listen, because he was too busy thinking about kissing her. She just had such kissable lips, how could he not?

“Sounds good,”

“And I think I should kiss that Dandy Mott guy at the end of it,”

“I like that,”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re not listening, Jimmy,”

“You come up with the best ideas- Ow?!” he gasped as she flicked him on his nose, “What was that for?”

“You’re not listening to me. I just suggested kissing that dumbie Dandy Mott and you said you would like that,”

“I did?” he asked in horror, “I did?” 

“Yeah,” Y/N grumbled, “What are you thinking about that’s so important?”

“You,”

“Me? You’re thinking about me so damn hard you have to ignore me to do it?” 

“You’re rather cranky right now,” 

“Because I hate to be ignored-” he zoned out again as she babbled, smirking as he saw one of the members of the Freak Show busy decorating. They took out an object from a box: a mistletoe. Sweet. 

As Y/N spoke, Jimmy continued to stare until the cast mate felt it, snapping their head in his direction. He subtly tilted his head, beckoning the man over. As the man approached, Jimmy made a point to look at his face then the mistletoe in his hand. 

“...how would you feel if I just stared at you during every conversation we had and didn’t pay you no mind- Jimmy!” Y/N hissed, slapping his arm now next, “What the hell is wrong with you today-?” she paused, looking up to see the mistletoe held up between the two of them. 

“Sorry, darlin’,” Jimmy shrugged cheekily, “I think we need to kiss,”

____

Tags: @envy-of-greed @bohnerrific69 @loveofcherry

[caroldantops]

hi nonnie! i think that you bring up some fair questions but you’re missing a few important bits to this one specific scenario

1) motts and i are friends! we talk about stuff! she just assumed i might write those things so she didn’t wanna step on my toes and do the same thing - i’ve had these convos before with her and other writers bc i personally like to let them know like hey, I’m writing something that might be kind of similar to something of yours just a heads up! and usually they don’t care! but i like to anyway, gives me peace of mind and also in case people accuse me of taking someone’s idea, I’ll be like hey :) dw we chatted already

2) maybe motts doesn’t want to write those things and was just directing people who might want to still see those things to someone who is or has written them, like she said! it can literally be as simple as that. she didn’t even like, say anything about copying me, she just said she thought i was gonna write them

3) this is kind of a point just from my personal preferences when choosing fics to write: maybe I’m not worried about copying and just wanna write something different 🤷‍♀️ for instance i love and adore vampire and werewolf fics but they’re pretty common so i try to seek out other ideas, not bc I’m worried about copying those but just because i wanna do a new take on characters

(also i got a little bit ranty with this next bit and it is completely on me so don’t y’all come bitching to motts about what i say, come to my blog and bitch to me.)

and may i just say, from my perspective, you seem like, way more hung up on the fact that someone trying to offer a polite courtesy to their friend or just a fellow author might affect your requests getting filled rather than worrying about writers being scared to write something for fear of copying.

“why even ask if you’re gonna do this?”

because we like interacting with our readers? because we like getting ideas from y’all even though we might not use them? because we wanna know what our readers will enjoy reading? just because someone happens to decide to not do something doesn’t mean them like, gauging ideas is pointless because guess what, we’re writing it so we get the final say, and we wanna write something we’ll enjoy writing.

writers don’t have a legally binding obligation to write every single request they get. they can literally say no for any reason, whether it be “my friend is doing something similar rn!” or just flat out “i don’t want to write this”, we can say no to it and you just have to accept that because guess what? you’re not paying for a service.

this is the reason i say i take suggestions and not requests. the entitlement of some people is far too great and i’d rather not come to hate my hobby.

idk, maybe you didn’t intend it to come out that way so if you didn’t, that’s my bad for interpreting it this way, and i apologize for scolding you about it but that’s genuinely how I’m reading into this message.

it gives a very similar energy to a common tumblr writer pet peeve of like, the same person sending the exact same request to a bunch of blogs to like try to guarantee someone will write what they want, which i know for me and maaaany others, makes us just feel like machines for y’all’s entertainment rather than what fandom is supposed to be about which is collaboration! coming up with ideas together! making beautiful little worlds for all of us to be delusional in!!

https://www.tumblr.com/caroldantops/728219616857473024/succubus-or-ghostnatasha-ofc-some-smut-if

does it really matter for this if someone you know is doing the same thing? lots of ppl come up with these same concepts, and plus it’s a request/idea that y’all writers are asking for ideas from us readers… but don’t write it just bc someone you know is doing it? I’ve seen hundreds of fic’s with similar requests/plot ideas and each is a different writing style it doesn’t matter if you know someone who is going to write it, it’s two completely separate blogs and writers. And the request also mentioned smut, nothing about it being sad or anything. Like y’all aren’t copying one another.

Genuinely don’t get it? Why even ask for ideas to help with y’alls writing if you’re just gonna do this? /gq

This is… really deep thought for something that boils down to being as simple as I personally don’t want to write the same things my friend is for the same event? 😅

Just because writers ask for ideas doesn’t mean we have to take them, write them, etc. Me saying that Silver is doing it is just me politely saying no, but directing that person to where they can get the content they want.

Kinktober in itself is a smutty event so yes it’d be smutty, Silver saying her ghost nat fic was sad was because it was; she posted it last year and it was sad, but that didn’t affect me doing it or not doing it.

I don’t consider it copying, I just don’t want to do it right now. And if you look at my original post about kinktober this year, I specifically said I’m not taking requests, I just wanted to see what types of Nat fics my followers might want to see, not guaranteeing that I’m writing any Nat fic at all.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

sometimes I see David Tennant's face in Doctor Who as he monologues about time travel/immortality/the eternal loneliness and I go...that's him. that's my rotten lil guy. my wretched wreck of a dude. wreckage in humanoid form. the lonely divine corrupted by himself forgiven by himself made by himself made by his companions made by the universe. horrible and horrifying and far too human and not human enough. the worst thing to ever happen to so many (Martha, Adelaide, Astrid, everyone else who flashed through that whole montage thanks to Davros). a corrupter. a corruption. a cleansing. a man carved out of grief and love and pathos and hatred and grudges and forgiveness who can only make the worst decisions with the best, most selfish of intentions. a man who loved until he lost everything. a man, more than any other doctor, who should never be left alone, and yet he dies alone, with the shortest regeneration speech of any doctor. desperately lonely, desperately tragic, a disaster of a man who is too careless with everything and everyone around him.

And yet I care about him so much, because he is also the man who at the end of it all, after he lost everyone and everything he held dear, after he lost rose and donna and sarah jane and jack and martha and mickey left him and he was more alone than he's ever been, he does the right thing. the kind thing. he stops the time lords from descending on the earth. he once again gives up his people because he understands that the Time Lords Victorious cannot and should not ever be the way to go. he steps in and he saves wilfred mott. he lets himself become the doctor once again. he doesn't want to go, but instead of taking that one final step into godhood, he gives his next self a chance at being a better doctor than he ever could be.

[jozor-johai]

Days, Moons, Snow, and Letters: Proposing an new timeline for the ADWD North

The timeline you think you know around Jon's death is wrong, and this post is to show you why. Every discussion about who really wrote the Pink Letter is missing a crucial detail: Jon dies a month before Tycho Nestoris even reaches the Crofter's Village.

Yes, I am aware this sounds like an unbelievable claim. I would love for someone to convincingly prove me wrong, and if you believe you can, please let me know. However, I am reaching this conclusion using only the facts, which I will break down for you here.

Based on Asha's careful count of the days in The King's Prize and The Sacrifice, Jon's account of the moons from Jon VII onward, and Asha's, Theon's, and Jon's account of the snowstorm around Winterfell, I believe I can convincingly argue that by the time Tycho Nestoris arrives at Stannis' camp at the end of The Sacrifice—before any battle has taken place at all—Jon has already been dead for a month.

Very long (and dry) explanation below the cut. Please enjoy.

At the end, there's a Timeline breakdown illustrating the rough outline by the day, so don't worry if my tally of the weeks starts to get confusing, there is a clarifying list at the end.

The intuitive version—where George is giving us helpful hints

Jon VII, The Prince of Winterfell, and The King’s Prize. 

In The King’s Prize, Stannis’ host sets out from Deepwood Motte. Because this is important for timing everything else, let's call this Day 0.

In Jon VII, during a new moon, Jon receives a letter informing him of this plan ("we march against him")—I believe we can sync these events as occurring roughly contemporary to one another, with Jon VII happening a few days later. For ease later on, let's say Jon VII happens ~0.5 weeks after Asha departs Deepwood; this is ~Day 3.

Very shortly after that is Prince of Winterfell and Jeyne’s marriage: during this chapter, Roose receives word that Stannis has left Deepwood Motte. Allowing for just a bit more wiggle room (for Arnolf Karstark to have received a similar update as Jon did, and then to forward that information to ahead to Roose) we can place Prince of Winterfell fairly soon after Jon VII, itself after The King’s Prize begins. Let's call this ~Day 6.

Theon in Winterfell

Thanks to Asha keeping track of the days to the number, we know that Stannis' host spends at least 34 days on the march (Asha notes that "On the thirty-second day" grain ran out, at least two more days pass—the day "Lord Peasebury turned against the northmen" and "The next day the king's scouts chanced upon an abandoned crofters' village") and then Stannis' camp spends an additional 19 days at the Crofter's Village before Tycho and Theon arrive ("they had been three days from winterfell for nineteen days"). Therefore, we can almost exactly place Theon's arrival at the Crofter's Village no sooner than 53 days from the time they left Deepwood Motte. (It's possible, but not necessary, to insert more days between 32 and the Peasebury day, and we're trying to keep this march as short as possible.)

Therefore, the entirety of Theon’s Winterfell arc occurs during this time, since Prince of Winterfell starts right after the announcement that Stannis has begun to march, and because accounting for a ~3 days' ride between WF and the Village, Theon I occurs ~3 days before The Sacrifice. We can actually reasonably sync these chapters, but for the most part we don’t really have to—Ghost of Winterfell begins four days prior to Theon I, so that only needs to align with Tycho's arrival, and the Turncloak can just happen somewhere in between. But:

The one interesting thing to note is the snow in The Turncloak, when snow begins to fall heavily ("by nightfall snow was coming down so heavily"), and the snowstorm begins. However, it is also in this chapter that two scouts return to inform Roose that Stannis’ host has begun to break apart in the snow and had "slowed to a crawl". Comparing that to Asha's updates, this is at the earliest ~1 week into the march by Asha’s count, or anytime afterward ("fourth day of the march... snow began to fall" + "third day of snow, the king's host had begun to come apart"). So, by the time it starts snowing at Winterfell, or Asha, it's already been snowing a few days, at minimum. Accounting for additional travel time back to Winterfell from wherever Stannis is, and considering that this report comes just as Winterfell is getting snow, that means Stannis’ host got the snow roughly over a week before the snow reached Winterfell.

Almost like the snowstorm is following Stannis there. ;)  

Asha's Days

As for Asha and Jon’s storyline—where it actually matters here—it appears remarkably easy to compare time:

I believe Asha counting the days must be an exercise with narrative importance, and it's incredibly useful. As I said above, we can pin nearly to the day how much time elapsed from the beginning of Stannis’ march from Deepwood Motte until their arrival at the Crofter’s Village (no less than 34 days, cited above) and then add another 19 days at the Crofter’s Village in advance of Tycho’s arrival.

Together, the time from the beginning of The King’s Prize to the end of The Sacrifice is, at minimum, 53 days. Let's say Theon and Asha reunite on Day 53.

TWOW Theon appears to occur just before dawn the next day, and since The Battle at the Crofter’s Village appears to begin immediately after TWOW Theon ends, we’ll say that the Battle, therefore, is Day 54, or 7 weeks and 5 days following Stannis' departure from Deepwood Motte.

Jon's Moons

Meanwhile, every subsequent Jon chapter gives us either a moon phase or an account of days past:

Jon VII occurs during a new moon ("They had no moon to guide them home, and only now and then a patch of stars.") The weather is notably clear, clear enough that it's a plot element: this is the reason for heading to the weirwood grove now. When Jon returns he get the news of Stannis’ departure from Deepwood. We've allowed for some raven time, so we're calling this ~Day 3.

(As an aside, it’s been storming the last seven days, so the latest Mance could have left is a week prior, though obviously since we’re syncing this with Prince of Winterfell, Mance likely left earlier than that.)

Jon VIII occurs just before the half moon, about a week later. A moon "but half-full," to quote the text exactly. This is when Val departs to find Tormund. I interpret "but" to mean just before half-full, so we'll say this is 6 days later: ~Day 9.

Val says she will return on the "first night of the full moon." No one ever says she’s late, and Jon never worries about her being gone too long, so we can assume this is true—Val returns on the first night of the full moon, with Tormund, in Jon X. We can even be generous and say this is ~9 days later, and say Jon X occurs ~Day 18.

Since Val leaves in Jon VIII and returns a week later in Jon X, then Jon IX has just over a week’s period to occur. If we’re being generous, we can say this occurred only a few days after Jon VIII, around the actual half moon. Let's say Jon IX happens ~Day 11.

In Jon IX, Selyse arrives and declares she intends to stay “no more than a few days,” and while this prediction is not a trustworthy source, it might give us some kind of ballpark. Jon also notes the weather is clear in the morning for once, calling it a “respite.” He thinks the snows have "moved off to the south" (to Stannis?) but by the evening, the snow is "coming down more heavily". The next day, Tycho appears to be gone, and Alys arrives. 

So: Tycho appears to leave just over 1 week after Jon VII, when Jon received word that Stannis planned to march on Winterfell. This way, it makes intuitive sense that Jon sent Tycho to Deepwood Motte—barely any time has passed. It seems entirely possible that Stannis had yet to leave, or at least that Tycho could catch up with him on the march. So far, this feels entirely believable and logical.

In Jon X, Alys weds. Flint and Norrey have "hied" (hurried) to Castle Black for the Wedding, which is possible if we've said that Jon IX was ~1 week ago. The snow is still falling "heavily". Jon receives a letter confirming that eleven ships have left Eastwatch for Hardhome (likely a few days prior). Val arrives that night—our full moon, we presume. Again, this is Day ~18.

Jon XI begins the next morning. ("that day" until "finally, as the shadows of the afternoon grew long"). There is no place to fit any time in between here and Jon IX, because this chapter includes Jon showing Val her new quarters ("I've had the top floor made ready for you"). This is ~Day 19.

Also in Jon XI, Jon notes that the snow has finally stopped after two weeks ("a fortnight"). The last time we know the weather was clear for more than a few hours (so clear it was a plot point!) was Jon VII, when Jon went to the weirwood grove. By our count of the moon, Jon VII was two weeks ago, so this lines up exactly.

Tycho

So: we've said Tycho leaves in Jon IX, which is just over a week since Jon VII. If, at an estimate, we're saying Jon VII probably occurred about a half a week after Stannis actually left, Tycho departed Castle Black 1.5 weeks into Stannis' march. Again—he could catch up here, so makes sense that Jon sends Tycho to Deepwood Motte first.

Meanwhile, thanks to Asha, we know Tycho makes it to Stannis’ camp 7.5 weeks after their departure, on Day 53. If we are roughly syncing the start of The King’s Prize half a week before Jon VII, and seeing Tycho set out from Castle Black only a week later, then Tycho takes ~6 weeks to reach Stannis, and he’s not a teleporting banker at all. ~42 days is plenty of time to reach Deepwood Motte, negotiate the exchange of hostages, travel to Winterfell in the storm, grab Theon, and then make it back to Stannis’ camp. Again, this makes sense.

Jon X—Jon XIII

However, we now run into the problem of how much time has passed since Tycho left.

We said before that Jon X and Jon XI (the next day) occur ~1 week after Tycho departs. Jon XI is ~Day 19.

After that, Jon XII occurs exactly three days following Jon XI—there’s no space to add any extra time here. In Jon XI, Tormund and Jon agree to let the Wildlings through in three days' time, and Jon XII follows that event proceeding as scheduled. We can safely place Jon XII ~1.5 weeks following Tycho’s departure. Jon XII is ~Day 22.

Jon XIII is the only remaining Jon chapter without a moon phase or a clear date. However, there are a number of events that demand it be soon after Jon XII.

First, there's Tormund's return. Back in Jon XII, Jon says Tormund will take men to Oakenshield in “within a day or two.” In Jon XIII, Toregg returns in the morning to announce that Tormund has settled his people at Oakenshield and is returning in the afternoon. Tormund arrives that afternoon.

Then, there's the matter of Hardhome. In Jon XII, he recieves news of the disaster at Hardhome ("Very bad here. Wildlings eating their own dead"). Jon XIII begins with Jon and Selyse discussing Hardhome, seemingly for the first time; Jon later discusses a Hardhome ranging with Marsh and Yarwyck, also for the first time; Melisandre also tries to stop Jon from leaving for Hardhome, also for the first time. Jon XIII occurs as soon as Jon makes the plan to leave for Hardhome. He sounds hurried; he says "they are starving at Hardhome by the thousands," and he makes a plan with Leathers to arrange the meeting in the Shieldhall in time for Tormund's return from Oakenshield—the only thing holding them up from leaving is Tormund's return.

Up to you how long you think Jon would have waited to discuss this—I don't think very long. In order to argue that more time passes between Jon XII and Jon XIII, we need to argue that Jon hears of the starving Wildlings eating their own dead and waits for weeks before acting.

Additionally, Cregan Karstark is taken out of the Ice Cells in Jon XIII after having been imprisoned there sometime before Jon X. Considering Jon X and Jon XII have to be four days apart, that's fine, and we might imagine that Cregan has been there for maybe over a week, or more. However, Jon spent four days in an ice cell in ASOS Jon X and in this time Alliser Thorne threatened that Jon would "die in there." With that comparison, we're limited in the timeline by imagining how much longer than ~1 week we can keep Cregan Karstark alive in the ice cells prior to his release in Jon XIII without him freezing to death first.

Soon after, the Bastard Letter arrives, and Jon is killed.

Personally, I think it’s most likely that Jon XIII occurs only a few days following Jon XII. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say we can put Jon XIII ~1 week following Jon XII, and being generous we’ll say that Jon dies ~2.5 weeks after Tycho departs Castle Black. That is, therefore, 3.5 weeks after Jon first heard word that Stannis was leaving Deepwood Motte, and (we're guessing) ~4 weeks after Stannis actually left.

So Jon dies on ~Day 30. By this count, Jon's dead, and Tycho Nestoris still won’t arrive at the Crofter’s Village for another ~3.5 weeks—he can't come any faster, Asha's been counting.

Next, I'm going to propose (and acknowledge) the ways that other versions of this timeline will fix this problem, though I don't like them exactly. Then, afterwards, I'm going to give a last piece of evidence why I believe in the version of events I've just described.

If you're unintersted in "what-ifs," scroll down to "The Snowstorm"

The Less Intuitive Version—where George sneaks in "The Mystery Month"

Because I'm arguing that Jon appears to die on ~Day 30, and Tycho doesn't even reach Asha until Day 53, in order for us to believe Jon XIII happened after TWOW Theon, we’d need to invent a month to add in to Jon’s storyline. Jon XIII has to occur after Day 60, at minimum.

I call this the “Mystery Month”—is there a missing month in Jon’s storyline, or isn’t there?

There a couple ways to make this happen, and I'll explain why I don't believe them.

The trouble with slow ravens

Number one, across the board, it feels very tempting to add buffer time by imagining that Stannis left Deepwood Motte even earlier than we estimate—maybe a whole week, or even longer, before Jon hears about it in Jon VII. The main issue with this strategy is that Stannis has to send the letter, so the raven leaves at latest when Stannis does, and so now we're arguing that a raven takes over a week to fly to reach Jon .... which means that now we're also adding additional estimated time for how long it took a raven to deliver the Pink Letter, and everything has to be pushed even earlier.

That is to say: if we said it takes two weeks for word to reach Jon before Jon VII, I would say now the "battle" in the Pink Letter has to happen weeks earlier to account for this extended raven time.

The long wait before Jon XIII

The first, simplest way to add a month, is that we say this: Jon XIII happens a month after Jon XII. It took Jon a month to plan for and to bring up Hardhome to Selyse, Selyse has waited over month to plan her weddings with Gerrick Kingsbloods’ daughters, and Tormund has been at Oakenshield for over a month. The Letter arrives a month after the Wildlings come through, and so long as the King’s Prize also began over a week before Jon gets the Letter about it in Jon VII, we can make this work. Tycho arrives on time, we skip ahead a month before Jon XIII, and then Jon dies after the battle.

Yes, this could be how it happens, No I do not think that it's convincingly possible that Jon XIII happens a month after Jon XII.

If we don't want to try to force in a lot of time between Jon XII and Jon XIII, there are a few other ways to attempt to solve this (though these are still three timelines of entirely my own invention):

Skipping a moon before Jon VIII

We could add a month in between Jon VII and Jon VIII, where Jon VIII is not the waxing half moon following Jon VII’s new moon, but the one after that. We're locked in at the moon cycle, so instead of one week, this has to be a ~5 week gap. The major issue with this is: we’ve lined up Jon VII roughly with the beginning of Stannis’ march, and Tycho still hasn’t arrived at Castle Black yet. If we place Jon IX right after Jon VIII again, we'll add a month to our previous estimate of Jon IX can say that Tycho leaves ~Day 39.

With this timeline, Tycho has ~2 weeks to catch up with Stannis’ host, reaching both Deepwood Motte and Winterfell along the way. This seems unbelievably fast (considering that Deepwood to Winterfell alone was over two weeks in good weather).

The thing is, that doesn’t even matter: since this doesn’t change our earlier estimate of how long Jon has left to live after Tycho’s departure (~2.5 weeks), that still means Jon dies roughly around the same time Tycho arrives.

There's an even bigger logical issue here: in this scenario, that means Jon, who heard five weeks ago that Stannis is marching on Winterfell—which is apparently a two-week march ("fifteen days")—still sent Tycho to Deepwood Motte to catch Stannis. Why would Tycho go to Deepwood first, and not Winterfell, if Jon learned Stannis marched five weeks before Tycho left? It's true that it happened to work out, but Jon wouldn't have known, at this point, how snowed in Stannis is.

The Val takes three weeks version

Alternatively, here everything is spread out more, which is closer in spirit to what the Unofficial Timeline suggests.

We can try to give both Val and Tycho a little more time before Val's return, but we’re always trapped in a moon cycle between Jon VIII and Jon X because otherwise Val’s promise to return at the full moon doesn’t make any sense. The best way to do this is to imagine that Val leaves on a waning half moon, rather than waxing half moon. This means that Val has three weeks to travel, and it also means we have move Jon VIII to three weeks after Jon VII (and therefore ~3 weeks into King’s Prize). Here, Jon VIII is ~Day 24.

(However, this is counterintuitive—it’s more natural to imagine that being shown a half moon following a new moon would mean the waxing half moon. Also, I believe it goes contrary to the actual description: Jon notes the moon was “but half full,” and the “but” makes it seem like it will be half-full soon, not that it just was. Again, we can allow it. This also means that when Val looks at the half-moon and says: look for me at the first week of the full moon, she doesn’t mean next week, she means in ~3 weeks from now—after the moon has gone to new and then back to full again. Once again, this feels very counterintuitive to say, but it will give us more time.)

In this version of events, Tycho and Alys can still arrive as early as right after Jon VIII, and therefore that Tycho left Castle Black ~3 weeks after Jon VII, roughly around ~Day 26. (Once again, this doesn’t make too much intuitive sense to me: why would Jon send Tycho to Deepwood Motte three weeks into a two-week march?) 

This doesn’t change our count of time from Jon X—Jon XIII (a generous ~1.5 weeks) but now we’re saying say that Tycho left Castle Black three weeks prior to Jon X, so this gives us 4.5 weeks between Tycho’s departure and Jon’s death.

This solves the issue of the teleporting banker: Tycho leaves ~3 weeks into Stannis’ march and has ~4.5 weeks to make the trip, so he’s faster than Stannis but not impossibly fast. However, because the moon phases are still locking our ability to only month here for the moon to align, we still have Tycho arriving roughly the same time Jon dies.

Mystery Month+

Since we're trapped into a vague schedule by Jon's noted moon cycles, the only remaining option is to assume that one of the above is true, and that Jon XIII happens at least two weeks after Jon XII. That would also make the timeline work.

However, to me, this all seems highly counterintuitive and unlikely…

And that’s before we factor in the accounts of the weather. 

Yes, I have one more piece of evidence to propose, and although this is a bit more debatable, I believe it corroborates my initial timeline.

The Snowstorm

Asha sets out from Deepwood Motte, and four days later, the snows begin. By a week into the march ("third day of snow"), the host has begun to separate, and slow to a crawl.

Around this time, or a little later, we imagine the Bolton scouts see the Stannis host struggling, and turn home to report back. Several days later, accounting for vague travel time (because Stannis is less than halfway to Winterfell by this point), they report this to Roose, and it begins to snow in Winterfell, too. Let's say, roughly, it begins snowing at Winterfell around ~2 weeks after Stannis departs, maybe adding a couple days. This is when The Turncloak happens—let's say ~Day 16.

Remember what I said about the snow in The Turncloak being interesting?

In Jon VII (at my estimate, ~Day 3) the weather is clear—clear enough that Jon heads north of the Wall. If we're aligning these moments, this seems to be true for Stannis, too.

The first we hear of snows to the south in Jon IX ("moved off to the south"), and in Jon X, we hear that south of Castle Black the "kingsroad was said to be impassable" from snowstorms. In Jon XIII, Yarwyck points out that the Wall is getting snow blown against it because the "wind's from the south". This is three different accounts of harsh weather to the south, and all of this points to this being the storm at Winterfell. 

If we go back to my original timeline, Stannis leaves Deepwood Motte a little before Jon VII, and Jon X occurs two weeks later around ~Day 18. In that timeline, then those reports of impassable snows to the south line up exactly with when the snows appear to have hit Winterfell, from our estimation of the sync between King’s Prize and Turncloak. Snows hit Winterfell roughly ~Day 16, Jon gets reports that the Kingsroad is impassable ~Day 18. That lines up.

According to my proposed timeline, this is still four or five weeks before Tycho Nestoris arrives. A week later, in Jon XIII, when the winds from the south are only getting worse… that fits, because Asha and Theon have another three or four weeks of snow to go. And Jon is dead.

The End

TL;DR: Comparing Jon’s tracking of the moon, Asha’s tracking of the days, and accounts of the snowstorm around Winterfell all lead me to believe that Jon dies four weeks before Tycho Nestoris reaches the Crofter’s Village.

In my proposed timeline: Tycho leaves ~1 week after Stannis does, he takes ~6 weeks to make it to the Crofter’s Village, and Jon’s already been dead for a month. So, there's been a month since. This way, Jon sending Tycho to Deepwood makes sense, and Tycho taking 6 weeks to make the journey makes sense. The accounts of the snowstorms line up.

What doesn't make sense is: the Pink Letter arrives over a month too early to be real.

Implications

But what could I possibly be saying? I don't even really know. This is such an unusual conclusion that there is very little theorizing in the fandom about what this would mean.

.... Although, I do have a pet theory for this: it does feed into my desire for the Wildlings to make a surprise appearance in TWOW.

Take this with a grain of salt. BUT. We know from AGOT that it usually takes ~3 weeks to travel from Castle Black to Winterfell. That means that a Wildling host would have a month, or even five weeks, depending on timing, to have marched from Castle Black to Winterfell afterward, and could arrive at Winterfell right on time for Stannis to advance. If that were the case, it could explain why Stannis seems so unhurried at the Crofter's Village. Maybe he's waiting for them to arrive. It could work that way. I'm not getting into any other logistics here, because this is a tall tale to defend.

On the other hand, as much work as this was, I’d love to be proven wrong here! It's all in the name of science, if by science I mean obsessive analysis of fiction. If someone has a detail I’ve missed, please let me know.

TIMELINE

Day 0: King's Prize: Stannis Marches. The King's Prize begins.

Day ~3: Jon VII: New moon, word from Stannis.

Day 4: King's Prize: Snow begins for Asha.

Day ~6: Prince of Winterfell. Word from Arnolf that Stannis marches on Winterfell.

Day 7: King's Prize: Stannis' host begins to break apart in the snow.

Day ~9: Jon VIII: ~Half moon, Val departs and will return in ~a week.

Day ~11. Tycho Nestoris arrives and Jon sends him to Deepwood Motte. Jon notes it seems there are snows off to the south.

Day 15: King's Prize: Stannis has moved less than half the distance.

Day ~16. The Turncloak. It begins to snow heavily in Winterfell.

Day ~18. Jon X. Val returns, new moon. It's snowing heavily in Castle Black. Word comes that the Kingsroad south of Castle Black is impassable from heavy snow.

Day ~19. Jon XI. Jon meets with Tormund, shows Val her new quarters. Wildlings cross in three days.

Day 20. King's Prize: Asha loses her ankle chains because her horse dies.

Day ~22. Jon XII. The wildlings cross. Clear in the morning but Tormund notes snow will start again overnight. Tormund plans to go to Oakenshield in a day or two. Word of the Hardhome disaster.

Day 26. King's Prize: Stannis' host runs out of vegetables.

*Day ~30. Jon XIII, by my estimate. Jon plans to leave for Hardhome. Strong winds blowing snow from the south. Tormund returns from Oakenshield. Bastard Letter, Jon dies.

Day 32. King's Prize: Stannis' host runs out of grain.

Day 34. King's Prize: Stannis' host reaches the Crofter's Village.

Day 45. The Karstarks arrive at the Crofter's Village. (The Sacrifice)

Day 47. The Ghost in Winterfell: Ryswell man-at-arms found dead. Snow makes visibility outside Winterfell near-zero.

Day 48. Ghost in Winterfell: Aenys Frey's squire found dead in the morning. Flint crossbowman found dead in the afternoon. Stable collapses at night.

Day 49: Ghost in Winterfell: Yellow Dick found dead in the morning. Visibility so low Theon cannot see "three feet in front of him." Confrontation about whether Theon is the killer.

Day 50: Ghost in Winterfell: Theon stays up all night; just before the dawn the sounds of horns and drums outside wakes everyone Winterfell. Theon is found in the godswood by three of the spearwives and taken to meet Mance in the Burned Tower. Theon I: A raven arrives (from the Karstarks) informing Roose of Stannis' location. Theon and Jeyne escape and are found my Mors.

Day 53: The Sacrifice: Tycho Nestoris arrives with Theon, Jeyne, and the Ironborn from Deepwood Motte.

*Day 60: At minumum, earliest time Jon XIII can occur for the Pink Letter to be accurate.

[atopvisenyashill]

staying in the north because that’s home

we’re doing theon chapters next lads it’s about to get very sad in here. also theon has more chapters so this one is a little longer. tldr on theon’s adwd arc:

FIRSTLY I kept track of his reek rhymes it goes leek bleak meek leek squeak cheek leak weak freak sneak wreak peek freak shriek meek peek weak sneak

Secondly, just for reference, his chapter names are Reek I, Reek II, Reek III, The Prince of Winterfell, The Turncloack, A Ghost in Winterfell, and Theon. When I saw “Theon” I genuinely cheered out loud.

I like these chapters a lot because there’s a lot to analyze without (at least to me) being all that plot heavy. They just like, go to a wedding then hang out at Winterfell. Meanwhile Theon is losing his mind and also connecting spiritually with a nine year old.

I think it’s soooo funny that everyone is like “oh that Tully Temper” as if the northmen aren’t just as unpleasant as cat hoster lysa edmure and blackfish lol. like these are the bitchiest people in the world omg.

let’s goo

we are just opening with eating a alive rat let’s get into this shit.

kyra story is horrifying. the characterization for her is interesting as she introduces us to ramsay's little most dangerous game playground - ramsay truly sets her free to give her a headstart and she realizes she won't be able to find her way home on her own so she goes to the one person she knows is both skilled enough to help and likely willing to help, which is theon. but theon in that moment is still just steeped in his selfishness; he's almost more angry at kyra for not splitting up so he could get away than at ramsay for hunting them down and gruesomely murdering her.

Ramsay was clad in black and pink—black boots, black belt and scabbard, black leather jerkin over a pink velvet doublet slashed with dark red satin. In his right ear gleamed a garnet cut in the shape of a drop of blood.

the DRIP omg once again angry that the Northerners all wear the exact same ugly outfit when we could have gotten THIS

THEONSA QUOTE

but also his "she is only a girl" about arya marrying ramsay....that hurt me too

No. I never thought we would. They’re dead. Lord Wyman had them killed. That’s what I would have done if I was him.

first of all - i love this evil little kid lmao

second of all - i love that he very pragmatically is like "yeah those bitches should have realized they were gonna get got"

third of all - kinda love that he hangs around talking to theon. as i've been thinking about who will get the twins at the end, I think what's interesting here is that Little Walder, the "stupid" one, is the Frey that latches onto Ramsay while Big Walder, the "smart" one, seems to talk to everyone there, more intent on gathering information than purposefully currying favor with any one person, even from lowly, broken little Reek.

After the scratch the Young Wolf gave Lord Rickard, that may be somewhat less true than formerly. Be that as it may. Lord Stannis has taken Deepwood Motte from the ironmen and restored it to House Glover. Worse, the mountain clans have joined him, Wull and Norrey and Liddle and the rest. His strength is growing.

so we’re at Winterfell. This is how it shakes out-

WINTERFELL, STARK LOYALISTS: Manderly, Hornwood, Cerwyn, Tallhart, Locke, Hothor “Whoresbane” Umber WINTERFELL, BOLTON LOYALISTS: Bolton, Frey WINTERFELL, SHADY GROUPS: Ryswell, Dustin, FF Flints, Stout WITH STANNIS: Mors “Crowsfood” Umber, Mountain Clans (First Flints, Wulls, Liddles, Harclays, etc), Mormont, Glover, possibly WW Flints as well? IN THE WIND: Reed, Karstark, Skagosi

just listing that here so i have it somewhere.

"Has my bastard ever told you how I got him?” That he did know, to his relief. “Yes, my … m’lord. You met his mother whilst out riding and were smitten by her beauty.” “Smitten?” Bolton laughed. “Did he use that word? Why, the boy has a singer’s soul."

this one hurt my feelings. Especially in conjunction with Roose's "don't make me regret the day I raped your mother" and the way that's the comment that really gets under Ramsay's skin - I think he much prefers to tell himself that Roose was simply ~overcome with lust~ for his mother's beauty rather than Roose thinking she wasn't even worth the time it took to rape her

"You could be my man." "I'm no one's man."

screaming

interesting how both Barbrey and Wyman distrust Maesters

"And be quick about it. If she’s not wet by the time I’m done disrobing, I will cut off that tongue of yours and nail it to the wall.” Somewhere in the godswood, a raven screamed.

that's Bran btw

“Please,” he murmured through his broken teeth, “I never meant …” The words caught in his throat. “Save me,” he finally managed. “Give me …” What? Strength? Courage? Mercy? Snow fell around him, pale and silent, keeping its own counsel. The only sound was a faint soft sobbing. Jeyne, he thought. It is her, sobbing in her bridal bed. Who else could it be? Gods do not weep. Or do they? The sound was too painful to endure. Theon grabbed hold of a branch and pulled himself back to his feet, knocked the snow off his legs, and limped back toward the lights. There are ghosts in Winterfell, he thought, and I am one of them.

THAT'S BRAN TOO. GODS WEEP AND THEY WEEP FOR YOU AND JEYNE THEON!!!!

The girls were glad to see him. They knew him by his smell. Red Jeyne loped over to lick at his hand, and Helicent slipped under the table and curled up by his feet, gnawing at a bone. They were good dogs.

i'm curious if this will come up again - that Ramsay's dogs know Theon (because he sleeps with them) and they seem to like him, and they're fairly well behaved despite being raised by Ramsay.

The gods could not kill Bran any more than I could. It was a strange thought and stranger still to remember that Bran might still be alive.

screaming

so there's the murdery mystery plot. what's interesting to me here is that once we get to the Prince of Winterfell, Theon stops referring to himself as Reek (until Ramsay rapes Theon & Jeyne on their wedding night). But in the Turncloak, he goes back to being his usual prickly self; he's picking up on what people aren't saying, he starts with his "jeyne jeyne rhymes with pain" as a substitute for the reek bit, and even when he's doing the reek bit he's not just using random words, he's using insults for himself - meek, weak, freak, etc. By the murder mystery, he's straight up snapping at people, interacting with people, actively lying for no real reason, and he seems to start really resenting the idea that he'll have to go back to being Reek. There's a level of barely concealed rage more an anything but it's not directed at the people around him, it's directed at Ramsay for the first time and it's directed at himself.

anyways, there’s this clear shift as Theon starts breaking out of the brainwashing effect the torture has on him but it's not a shift into being mentally well it's just a shift back into being Theon Greyjoy and that means prickly, and that means weird magic stuff too.

The poetry. of theon’s chapters starting with his thoughts on kyra, mad at her for needing his help, to theon lying to get jeyne out of there, and grabbing her before he jumps, without even a thought in his head about leaving her behind.

[hyunpic]

list of songs hyunjin has played on his lives/recommended:

note: im probably missing some & i couldn’t put links to all of them cause apparently tumblr has a link limit 🤨

lauv: julia, lonely eyes, invisible things, paris in the rain, never not, im so tired, the story never ends, i like me better

offonff: photograph, cigarette (ft. miso & tablo), dance, bath

beyoncé: crazy in love (remix)

billie eilish: i love you, &burn, idontwannabeyouanymore, ocean eyes, before i go, tv

honne: day1, la la la that’s how it goes

christina perri: a thousand years

shawn mendes: mercy, treat you better, in my blood

dvwn: phobia

dpr live: jam & butterfly

jehwi: dear moon

leehi: rose

bts: dna, waste it on me, make it right

colde: where love begins, string (ft. sunwoojunga), the museum, wa-r-r, your dog loves you (ft. crush), control me, a song nobody knows, im in love

got7: miracle, hard carry

justin bieber: lonely

josef salvat: call on me

taemin: criminal

night off: sleep

sam kim: make up (ft. crush), like a fool, sunny days summer nights

niki: lowkey

iu: the visitor, lullaby, knees, love poem, give you my heart, my sea

cha ni: starlight

sia: snowman

akmu: happening

sunwoojunga: run with me

the black skirts: everything

korea cracker: ocean (ft. hoyeon kim)

cosmic boy: can i love?

penomeco: no.5 (ft. crush)

yerin baek: blooming memories, limit

10cm: so…., however

day6: i’ll try, love me or leave me, when you love someone, you were beautiful, congratulations, zombie, days gone by, afraid

dean: d (half moon), instagram, what 2 do, bonnie & clyde

exo: first snow, the eve, love shot

sam fischer: this city

jukjae: do you want to walk with me?, lullaby

ph-1: nerdy love (ft. yerin baek), as i told you

baekhyun: love again, un village

amine: blackjack

young k: come as you are, guard you

flume: say it (ft. tove lo)

twice: dance the night away, fancy

ariana grande: thank u, next

hajin: we all lie

about: it has to be you

caroline says: winter is cold

h.e.r: u, wait for it

bol4: to my youth

monday kiz: winter is as i wished

paul kim: the road, additional

sweden laundry: the winter

jung seung hwan: in that winter

chungha: gotta go

zion.t: no make up, snow

airman: gloomy star, i’ll be your spring (ft. j_ust)

motte: dont run away

seventeen: a-teen, super

khalid: location

lukas graham: 7 years

imagine dragons: believer

bo kyung kim: dont think you are alone

jung ilhoon: spoiler (ft. babylon)

davichi: falling in love, 이 사랑

coldplay: everglow, viva la vida

lyn: my destiny

jus2: focus on me, long black, senses (jpn version)

crush: beautiful, you and i

ed sheeran: lego house, perfect, photograph, beautiful people

croosh: why

20 years of age: x

tori kelly: paper hearts

seulgi: always

luna: do you love me? (ft. george)

wisue: someone’s shining

epik high: eternal sunshine

jp saxe: if the world was ending

seori: fairy tale

bruno mars: marry you

the weeknd: earned it, die for you

jung seunghwan: its raining, an ordinary day, dear

sam tinnesz: play with fire

post malone: motley crew

jihyo: stardust love song

kim feel: your voice

sung sikyung: solar system, heejae

younha: stardust

wonpil: a journey

taeyeon: invu, some nights, toddler, drawing our moments

nct dream: boom

ha hyunsang: 3108

huhgak: memory of your scent

se so neon: nan chun, a long dream, midnight train, stranger

umi: remember me

tvxq!: mirotic

johnny balik: honey

red velvet: psycho

new jeans: hype boy

christian kuria: losing you

cigarettes after sex: k. , each time you fall in love, sunsetz, apocalypse

dpr ian: nerves, no blueberries, 1 shot

samm henshaw: broke

woodz: drowning

kelly clarkson: underneath the tree

kimmuseum: to you who cant sleep

taylor swift: betty

lana del rey: young and beautiful

harry styles: watermelon sugar, she

pink sweat$: honesty

masego: tadow

olivia rodrigo: vampire

troye sivan: youth, for him

kai: mmmh

2pm: my house

oasis: wonderwall, hey now

mac miller: that’s on me, everybody

nothing but thieves: amsterdam

bren joy: sweet

back number: i love you

mac ayres: next to you, roses

daniel caesar: blessed, ocho rios, get you (ft. kali uchis), take me away (ft. syd), do you like me?, disillusioned

green day: dilemma

puma blue: already falling

bruno major: nothing, easily, places we won’t walk, the most beautiful thing, old soul

[themuselesswriter]

Top, Bottom or Switch - Even Peters: American Horror Story Edition

You know how I do stupid shit when I'm left unsupervised? Here it is! lmao, enjoy and suffer.

Kai Anderson - Switch

He's a switch, he's the type of a guy who wants you to think he's in command but yell at him a couple of minutes and throw him on a bed and you will find him being a submissive b!tch, he'd whine about it, he'd try to take control but he won't try that hard, he has a name calling kink, and definitely a slapping and spanking kink. 

Kyle Spencer - Bottom

He's just too good and kind to be a top, he's the type of guy who would apologize for hours if he spanked you by mistake, and his whole zombification doesn't help his case since he became 90% more submessive because of it. 

Tate Langdon - Top

Leather kink, that's all I need to say. He's a top, he usually takes charge of things even when no one really asks him and even though he really messes things up, a terrible trait in life but definitely good in bed for him.

Austin Sommers - Bottom

That's a sneaky arse bottom for you! He's not confortational person, he needs lots of guidance in life (aka Belle Noire) he has a mommy kink, likes older people, a little cross dressing and being bossed around. 

Rory Monahan - Switch

He's a green flag, he's not afraid to show his vulnerability, he doesn't mind giving away control and taking control when needed, he's gentle and delicate, he tries his best to make the whole experience delicate, enjoyable and funny. 

Patty O'Furniture - Bottom

That's a bottom, in denial but definitely a bottom, he's into praise kink, tell him that he's worth something and he's game, and yes, I know Patty is a five minutes character but with that dance he did, he earned his spot here. 

Kit Walker - Top

He's a nice top, very autherarian, he's good at multi-tasking and he's not afraid to try something new and he almost never crosses boundaries, he's not a fan of spanking and bondage because he's traumatized but he does enjoy playing rough every now and then. 

Malcolm Gallant - Bottom 

That's a b!tchy bottom right there, he's into literally anything you throw at him, he's not afraid of experimenting, he's into pain play, leather, bondage, pet play, literally anything as long as you give him some attention. 

Edward Mott - Bottom

That's a bottom who tries to act like a top but fails misterably at it, he's an anxious bottom though, so his top would definitely need to take away his control so he could unwind and relax. 

Jimmy Darling - Top

Now although he doesn't mind switching position because he's so desperate for validation but he vibes top 97% of the time, he's not to be fully trusted as a top as he can get carried away sometimes, but like, he means well. 

James Patrick March - Bottom

I know what you guys think, but you wanna convince me that he wasn't the Countess's little play thing? Or that he wasn't really turned on by the idea of someone taking control of him and telling him what to do? He gives off Top vibes but really, he's a bottom. 

Jeff Pfister - Top 

He gives off rich white boy jerk vibe who doesn't have the emotional depth to be a bottom or a switch, also he seems a bit too invested in this whole "alpha male" bullshit, therefore, I deem him a not very good top. 

And of course, we can't let this go without some science and science charts

[jackoshadows]

Earlier I had mentioned how ‘Arya’s’ marriage to Ramsay Bolton is the thread that connects all the plots in the North in ADwD and I could not help notice how it’s mentioned or is the driving force for what is happening in four different locations or about 70% of the North plot.

Reek I (Theon I) - We are first introduced to this wedding in the North in this chapter when Ramsay tells Reek that he is to be wed to Arya Stark and needs Reek to stick around in better conditions.

Davos III: Davos is brought before the Manderlys with the Freys and Lannister/Bolton spies in attendance. Lady Wylla Manderly sticks up for Lady Arya Stark by telling everyone what an absolutely rotten fellow Ramsay Bolton is.

Reek II (Theon II): Reek meets ‘Arya’ and understands what is happening. This is Jeyne Poole, not Arya Stark.

The Wayward Bride (Asha I): The Boltons send off the wedding invites. Over at Deepwood Motte, Asha Greyjoy gets one written in the blood of dead Ironborn. This is also where she learns that her brother Theon is alive.

Jon VI: An interesting parallel with Asha and Theon here when Jon also gets a wedding invite at the Wall and learns that his little sister Arya Stark is alive and to be married to Ramsay Bolton. A lot of soul searching and angst happens before he decides he can’t help.

Davos IV: Manderly reveals all and the North Remembers. Manderly and Robett Glover proclaim Ramsay evil by birth and blood and tell Davos they need Ned’s son, Rickon, to prevent the Boltons from claiming Winterfell through Ned’s daughter Arya. They promise to support Stannis if Davos gets them Rickon Stark and Shaggydog.

Melisandre I: The red priestess convinces the Lord Commander to send Mance and the spearwives to rescue Arya based on her visions of Arya fleeing her marriage and heading to the Wall.

Reek III (Theon III): The Boltons get news that Stannis has left the Wall, won Deepwood and is marching on them. They strategize and decide to wait at Winterfell because Roose is confident that the Northmen with Stannis will reach Winterfell come what may to save Arya Stark.

Jon VII: Jon prays for Arya and gets a letter from Stannis with a recap of all that’s happened, promising to do his best to save Arya and find a better match for her (Presumably after killing Ramsay). Jon makes plans to send Arya to Braavos

The Prince of Winterfell (Theon IV): The Wedding of ‘Arya Stark’, given in marriage by Theon Greyjoy to Ramsay Bolton. There’s a feast, lots of interesting dynamics and political games played between various houses. Roose is vary of Manderly and Abel the Bard is there with his ‘Die Hard’ mission to get a Stark maiden secretly out of Winterfell.

Jon VIII: Jon and Val discuss Mel’s visions in her fires. Jon hopes that her visions of Arya are true and that Arya gets to the Wall safely.

The Turncloak (Theon V): Lady Barbrey and Theon Turncloak discuss the intricacies of the alliances between the different houses and the impact of Lady Arya’s tears in galvanizing the North to unite against the Boltons.

The King’s Prize (Asha II): Asha is introduced to the bad-ass mountain clans marching with Stannis Baratheon, who make it clear that they are going to save Lady Arya Stark come what may, no matter that Winter has clearly come to the North. The Boltons were right about them.

Jon IX: Jon’s hopes are dashed when Mel’s visions of a girl in grey fleeing a marriage on a dying horse turns out to be Alys Karstark and not Arya Stark.

A Ghost in Winterfell (Theon VI): Stannis reaches Winterfell! Theon ponders on the uncertain loyalties of the lords who are only there at Winterfell because of Arya Stark. Mance’s Spearwives approach Theon.

Jon X: Jon compares Alys’ bravery to Arya and gives her in marriage to Sigorn, Magnar of Thenns, in a wedding that is clearly meant to contrast the darkness of ‘Arya’s marriage to Ramsay in Winterfell.  Melisandre warns Jon of ‘daggers in the dark’, a warning that Jon refutes because she was wrong about Alys being Arya.

Theon VII: The escape. The Spearwives approach Jeyne and tell her that they are taking her to her half-brother at the Wall, Lord Crow. Even as the Spearwives are trapped and possibly caught, Jeyne Poole and Theon Greyjoy jump the walls to freedom.

Jon XI: Jon walks the Wall, worried and concerned for Arya. He misses her and hopes that Mance succeeds in his mission and gets her home to him.

The Sacrifice (Asha III): While the king’s men and queen’s men complain about the march to Winterfell, the loss of life and lack of food and doubt if they can make it, the Northern army and mountain clans are adamant about taking Winterfell and saving Arya. Asha is then finally united with Theon (and Jeyne).

Jon XIII: The Pink Letter. Ramsay demands his bride back, along with Reek and Stannis’ family. Jon decides to go attack the Warden of the North with an army of Wildlings. This leads to mutiny, assassination and his death.

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

And this is why GRRM considered Jeyne Poole essential to the story he was telling in the books. Without it, everything changes and story is now different on the TV show compared to the books or two different canons as GRRM puts it.

It’s incredible how Arya Stark is not even in Westeros and yet the entire plot in the North location in ADwD pivots around her marriage to Ramsay Bolton, in terms of House Stark politics in the North.

[haggishlyhagging]

It is characteristic of Elizabeth Cady Stanton when she comments on a letter received from a reverend gentleman - who, in keeping with the spirit of her response, shall remain nameless - who criticised Stanton for using one of his anecdotes on Lucretia Mott, without giving him due credit. ‘I laughed him to scorn’, she writes, ��that he should have thought it was my duty to have done so. I told him plainly that he belonged to a class of "white male citizens" who had robbed me of all civil and political rights; of property, children and personal freedom; and now it ill became him to call me to account for using one of his little anecdotes that, ten to one, he had cribbed from some woman. I told him that I considered his whole class as fair game for literary pilfering. That women had been taxed to build colleges to educate men, and if we could pick up a literary crumb that had fallen from their feasts, we surely had a right to it.’ With a final flourish, she adds: ‘Moreover, I told him that man's duty in the world was to work, to dig and delve for jewels, real and ideal, and lay them at woman's feet, for her to use as she might see fit,’ for after all, was not this what men were urging as the proper pedestal for women and the desired relationship between the sexes, and therefore, should he not 'feel highly complimented, instead of complaining, that he had written something I thought worth using?'

-Dale Spender, Women of Ideas and What Men Have Done to Them

[gloriayang]

Prayers for Lennon, January 2024

To our family and friends,

This month is a big one for our family, especially for Lennon. He will be going in for a follow up CT scan tomorrow morning at Beaumont RO. This scan will show us whether his lungs have worsened, healed, or stayed the same. It will be the first time we’re seeing the condition of his lungs since August. The last scan showed an abnormal result — lots of holes and scarring on his lungs. We have been waiting for this scan and praying so hard to see improvement in his lungs. We want our baby to be on his way to healing and to experience life without the need for supplemental oxygen if it’s in God’s will for him. More than that, it’s our hope that this scan will give his pulmonologist and team of doctors new information. Up until now, they’ve been clueless in how to treat Lennon’s lung disease. We are hoping this scan offers new insight that gives his doctors a new angle to consider. We are anxious yet hopeful about his results and would appreciate prayers for strength and peace as we wait.

Following his scan, we’d also like to ask for prayer for Lennon’s upcoming appointment at C.S. Mott Children’s Hospital / UofM on January 9th. We are seeking a second opinion at UofM and we’re praying so hard that there is a doctor on their pulmonology team that has seen or cared for a baby like Lennon before. His lung disease is not a common one which has made it hard to find care for him. We are praying for just ONE doctor who knows how to treat Lennon or at least point us in the right direction.

We are growing weary from all the uncertainties. We don’t know what type of lung disease Lennon has or how severe it is — only that it’s interstitial lung disease (an umbrella term). We don’t know how life threatening the disease is. We don’t know how long we have with our baby. My own research tells us it’s between 3-5 years for babies born with ILD. We don’t know if he’s in pain or if he needs immediate intervention to give him the best chance at a long and healthy life. We need some definite answers to be at peace. We don’t want our baby to suffer more than he has to if there’s something we could be doing to help ease his pain now.

We’re preparing ourselves for changes following Lennon’s pulmonology appointment at UofM. We don’t know what will be required of us once he’s an established patient there. Whether we’ll need to make the commute to Ann Arbor often, or have Lennon readmitted for observation, or even be turned away…we’re just praying that the Lord provides us with what we need for every outcome.

Please pray for these specific things and anything else you feel led to pray for. We are so grateful for each of you and we couldn’t do any of this without your support and love. We will update you as we receive his results and process what it will mean for our family. Thank you so much.

All our love, Gloria and James

[walkswithmyfather]

Romans 5:1-11 (ESV). [1] “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. [2] Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. [3] Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, [4] and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, [5] and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. [6] For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. [7] For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— [8] but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. [9] Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. [10] For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. [11] More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.”

“Jesus’ Offer of Peace” By In Touch Ministries:

“Peace isn't dependent on circumstances—it's ours when we surrender to the Lord.”

“What gives us peace? Most people would say inner tranquility is dependent upon circumstances—like a solid relationship with a spouse, a well-paying job, or good health. But what happens when a couple fights, the company lays off employees, or sickness saps the body? Then, the serenity we thought we had crumbles, because peace rooted in good situations isn’t really peace at all.

Jesus is the only One who offers a deep, lasting contentment that is unshakeable. However, we cannot experience that genuine sense of calm unless we are living in His will. Submission to the Lord and His plans allows His peace to permeate our life.

When the Holy Spirit lives within us, we can approach each day confidently and serenely, but that happens only through a relationship with the Savior. The apostle Paul explains that to be justified—that is, declared no longer guilty—we must accept the sacrifice Christ made in our place. Justification makes us right with God and opens our hearts to His peace (Rom. 5:1).

If you haven’t yet acknowledged to God that you recognize His Son’s loving sacrifice was made on your behalf, now is the right time to surrender to Him.”

[Picture thanks to Joel Mott at Unsplash]

[marchsfreakshow]

Never Leave (Dandy Mott x reader)

Helloo! This is just me writing something random that I thought of, and I am incredibly sorry if the characters seem outta character I haven't seen Freakshow for a good lil while :3

And it is just pure fluff, so, I hope you enjoy. :D

~~~~~~~~

You were driving Dora back from the shops, and she sat next to you in the passenger seat, but she wriggled uncomfortably. "Y/N, why on god's earth would you sit me in the front of the car? I'm meant to be sitting in the back, even so walkin'."

All you did was giggle a bit. "because you're a kind woman, Dora, you do so much for the Motts, yet they don't treat you right. It's horrible!" Your face was stern, serious, staring right in front of you as you were driving. She just gave a small smile looking out the window next to her. Yet she questioned why on earth you fell for Dandy. He was a childish brat who deserved all bad in Dora's eyes, and you were just constantly kind, sweet, and nice to everyone. What she didn't see is how you put Dandy in his place. You were harsh, more so than Gloria thought, and made sure Dandy knew what would happen if he stepped out of line with his mother or Dora.

After a few minutes, you end up at the Mott manor. You pulled the car up, and got out quickly, opening the trunk and grabbing the bags. Dora joined you, closing the trunk after the bags had been collected. "I can't thank you enough Y/N, you're too kind to live here honestly." She smiled at you, walking up to the door and pushing it open with the side of her body. Slowly you followed behind her, putting the two bags on the kitchen countertop. The kitchen was a bit dusty and a bit more greyish than it was yesterday.

"Dora, would you mind re-cleaning the kitchen later, please? It's greying.." You noticed, staring around the place. Before she answered a yes or no, you felt a body behind you and arms wrapping around your torso. "Hi, Dandy." Dandy grinned at you and kissed the side of your face.

"Don't leave for that long again, I missed you." He whined. Dora just rolled her eyes and walked into the other room, the bag still in hand. Dandy let you go after Dora left and turned you around, so you could look at him more, of course, he would want that.

All you did was give him a kiss, gently holding his face, and not letting go after the kiss. "I was only gone for half an hour love," Dandy whined again, and kissed you over and over, all over your face and neck, clinging himself to you. "Dandy.." You chuckled, moving your hands down to his shoulders, as he picked you up, and started to walk.

"We're going upstairs, I want to give you cuddles." He carried your bridal style, as you just buried your face in his neck, taking in his scent, and relaxing in his arms.

Dandy got into his playroom and put you down on the small sofa. It was enough to make you comfortable, and soon enough Dandy sat by you, holding your hand and staring at you up and down. "What are you staring at?"

"You."

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful. And the only one whos better than the other cows Mother brought into the house.

You just sat up and hugged Dandy tightly, ignoring what he just said. "I love you Dandy."

[multifandomfix]

Dandy Mott Yandere Alphabet

A = Attachment (How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?)

Dandy shows his love by buying you extravagant gifts, mostly and it can get ugly if he doesn’t think you appreciate it enough.

B = Blood (How messy are they willing to get when it comes to you?)

So messy. That doesn’t matter to him in the slightest. Someone bothering you? Not anymore they can’t.

C = Clingy (Do they require your attention at all times? How do they act when you ignore them?)

He cannot stand to be ignored. Any time he’s around he expects your full and enthusiastic attention.

D = Dependent (Are they codependent? Do they want you to rely solely on them for your care/protection?)

Dandy will be very upset if you turn to anyone but him to protect you. He’s very codependent and despite his outward confidence, also insecure.

E = Excess (Would they spoil or pamper you? To what extent?)

He’d spoil you rotten. Any wish or whim and whatever it is, it’s yours.

F = Fatal (Would they kill you? Kill for you?)

He would kill you but only if you pushed him to it. And then he’d probably kill himself afterward. And he’d certainly kill for you with ease and he’d enjoy it.

G = Give Up (What are they willing to sacrifice for you?)

Really, next to nothing. He’ll say he sacrifices for you, but it’s not anything that he’ll ever actually miss.

H = Harsh (How do they take to you mouthing off to them or saying something they don’t want to hear?)

He’ll lash out at you, maybe even slap you which he’ll regret and try to make up for later.

I = Inseparable (What are they like when you’re not with them? Do they check in on you constantly, or feel lost without you?)

Unless it’s his idea, it’s rare for Dandy to not be with you. He totally feels lost without you and tries not to stay away for any length of time.

J = Jilted (How do they act when met with rejection from you?)

Childish rage. He’ll throw an outright temper tantrum. Then he’ll forget about it and start from scratch until you eventually do accept him.

K = Kidnap (Would they ever abduct you just to have you to themselves for a while?)

He definitely would. You’re his prize, and once caught, you’ll be kept in his house unless he took you out himself.

L = Lines (Do they cross lines with you? What ones? Is it something they know they’re doing?)

Dandy will cross any line he has to. He tells you he hates to, but you know it’s a lie. He’ll do whatever he wants whether you like it or not.

M = Manipulation (Would they manipulate you? How? And would you realize that’s what was happening?)

He won’t really manipulate you, simply because he’s deluded enough to think you’ll already do exactly what he wants when he wants.

N = Naive (Do they like you pliant or do they prefer you to challenge them?)

He doesn’t like a challenge, so staying pliant and agreeable is your best way of staying safe around him.

O = Ownership (Do they feel possessive of you? How do they act when you’re around others?)

He’s 100% possessive of you. You’re his and his alone. He doesn’t even like anyone to set eyes on you if he can help it.

P = Petulant (Are they moody? Easy to anger? Or are they patient and forgiving around you?)

He’s very moody and extremely easy to anger. He does put on a very sweet act around you but it can turn on a dime.

Q = Quit (Would they quit any of their behaviors for you if you asked?)

No. God no. You’re just his pet, his possession. He’s not going to change for you.

R = Rules (Would they have rules for you? Brainwash you? Teach you the right way to be theirs?)

His main rule is to never leave the house. And he’d teach you all of the correct ways to be his. If you don’t follow them, you can expect serious anger.

S = Stalker (Would they stalk you? How far would it go?)

Before he brought you home, he for sure stalked you. It’s how he became so fascinated with you in the first place.

T = Target (What do they wish to do to you? How twisted are their ideals?)

He just wishes to have you, to look at you like you’re some kind of doll and to make you love him.

U = Utopia (How much effort do they put into making you happy?)

He puts a fair amount of effort into keeping you happy. But he doesn’t like it when you’re not appreciative of those efforts.

V = Violence (Would they ever be violent with you?)

Probably, yes. He’s prone to violence, but he’ll always get all sweet again and promise you he didn’t mean it.

W = Will (Would they ever do anything against your will?)

Certainly. He’s only concerned with his own will, so get on board or face the consequences.

X = Xoanon (Would they revere or worship you? To what length would they go to win you over?)

He would revere you as the pinnacle of his collection. And he’d go to great lengths to win you over so that you stayed his forever.

Y = Yowl (Do they ever make you cry? Do they enjoy your tears?)

He has made you cry, but he doesn’t like to see your tears. He’ll kiss or sometimes lick them away and soothe you, even if he’s the one that caused them moments ago.

Z = Zenith (Would they ever break you just so you’d stay with them?)

Yes. If there was no other way you’d stay and behave, he’d break you so you would.

For @arianadevareux

Dandy Mott: @bluenystic, @peggycarter-steverogers, @gothtrash6969, @callsigncrash, @words-of-holly, @somelonelywriter

[p1325]

Here's the list of the remixes I used: Nelly Furtado - I'm Like A Bird (Junior Vasquez Club Anthem Mix) Nelly Furtado - Turn Off The Light (Richard Vission Astromatic Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Powerless (Say What You Want) [Widelife's Outside Lookin In Club Mix] Nelly Furtado - Try (Tony Moran Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Forca (Armand Van Helden Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - No Hay Igual (Percy Delicious Club Mix) Nelly Furtado, Timbaland, Justin Timberlake - Promiscuous (Ralphi Rosario Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Maneater (Peter Rauhofer Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Say It Right (Friscia & Lamboy Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - All Good Things Come to an End (Dave Aude Club Mix) Nelly Furtado, Timbaland, Justin Timberlake - Give It To Me (Vibelicious Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Do It (Dimo vs Maurice Joshua Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Manos Al Aire (Al Aire Robbie Rivera Juicy Club Mix) Nelly Furtado, Flo Rida - Jump (Chocolate Puma Full Vocal Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Mas (Rebirth Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Fuerte (Twisted Dee Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Night Is Young (Sketch Iz Dead Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Big Hoops (Bigger The Better) [Wideboys Club Mix] Nelly Furtado - Spirit indestructible (Marlon S. Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Parking Lot (Wayne G and LFB Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Waiting For The Night (Ivan Spell & Daniel Magre Reboot Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Phoenix (DJ Jord-E's Club Mix) Nelly Furtado, Metro - Stick and Stones (Bimbo Jones Ibiza Club Mix) Nelly Furtado, Dom Dolla - Eat Your Man (Extended Mix) Nelly Furtado, Timbaland, Justin Timberlake - Keep Going Up (Cosmic Dawn Extended Club Mix) Nelly Furtado, Tove Lo, SG Lewis - Love Bites (I-Mott vs Melodika Club Mix) Nelly Furtado - Honesty (DJ Alisson Leite Extended Club Mix)