#god i hate ashe's design.

[tritoch]

Something that bugs me a lot in Dawntrail discourse is watching people who think they are defending the expansion argue away its best aspect. Because here's the thing: Wuk Lamat isn't like prior FFXIV characters. She takes up way more space than them. That's good!

A common thread you see in defenses is that people are complaining about things they were fine with earlier in the story. "Oh well actually Lyse was also the main character of Stormblood and people didn't hate her as much!" or "Heavensward is the story of Aymeric and Estinien and Ysayle, and the Warrior of Light doesn't do that much!" or "No one complained when Gaia jumped into the Eden raids, or when Emet showed up during Seat of Sacrifice" with the implied conclusion of "Wuk Lamat's not different from any other previous major character, your complaints have more to do with [sexism/transphobia/your crippling insecurity about not being the main character] than the way she's written." First of all people did hate Lyse. I get what you are saying but they very much did hate Lyse.

But Wuk Lamat is different. She's different because Dawntrail is unapologetically, full-throatedly her story. She is there at the start, she is there at the end, she is there basically all the way through except for a brief interlude. She is the character you talk to the most, she is also the character that talks the most. She has more of a complete arc than anyone else in the expansion. The antagonists develop much stronger direct and personal relationships to her than they ever do with you. Several major characters have relationships to you through her more than they do with you directly. At multiple points in the story you explicitly step back and are like "Go right ahead, queen, do the main character stuff." She 100% takes your role in certain ways. She's literally a new WL to your WoL!

and that's awesome! Like, holy shit! If you had traveled back in time and told me after Endwalker, "Hey, the next expansion will be almost solely and entirely focused on the character journey of a young woman, and she'll be nuanced and complex and allowed to fail but also allowed to succeed wildly, and her characterization will be interesting and her ideals will be very directly challenged, and she'll get to do some real classic 'sorry my noble opponent but I must stop you, even though I sympathize' shit, and the way she is framed won't feel excessively male-gazey, and she won't get stuck in the FFXII Ashe Miniskirt, and she won't just be someone you watch and clap for while the real protagonist and narrator is some random guy in her entourage," I would've been like "haha, okay, I like FFXIV as much as the next guy but I don't think it's shaken its baseline sexism off enough to do an expansion entirely about a woman and her personal growth and what makes her a good leader, especially after Stormblood's mixed reception. And CBU3 definitely doesn't have the guts to make her even more of a main character than any other prior NPC, and you didn't mention this part future time traveler, but I also don't believe they'll be willing to cast a trans woman in the role." And I would have been fucking wrong!

Yes, Wuk Lamat is the main character. Yes, she does get more attention than other NPCs, or even your Warrior of Light. And yes, that's totally fine, and even something to praise!!! You don't have to run from it to accommodate people who are looking for something to complain about!

[vxsellie]

UHH IM THER PERSON WHO ASKED FOR FIREFIGHTER!ElLLIE HEADCANONS AND TBH IDRM😇

synopsis. more aflame headcannons bc anon sent a second ask saying they actually want it to be specific LMAO

notes. when i tell you my inbox is flooded with questions about aflame / whether there will be a part two / etc etc etc, i mean it's FLOODED. ive said no to a part two, but i decided doing this for u guys might settle u down & put a rest to the millions of asks i get daily on that fic also! i already posted a small thing about ellie & the reader's life together following the story, but i will be repeating things from that post

warnings. mentions of grief (unnamed character dw), discussion of infant death (also unnamed but still a bit heavy), eventual sex (not necessarily smut but enough that i feel i should put a warning)

𐙚 after everything, you ended up staying with ellie for about a month

𐙚 okay so you obviously ended up staying with her & lived happily ever after

𐙚 but lets yap about the slow burn era that inevitably took place beforehand shall we

𐙚 first of all! for the first two weeks, she gave you her room and insisted on sleeping on the couch. you, of course, felt horribly guilty. but ellie was set on giving you the good option & she's quite the force to be reckoned with when she's arguing.

𐙚 so you eventually just gave in and slept in her bed.

𐙚 it was warm and clean and smelled like her. you loved it. the only thing it was missing, however, was her.

𐙚 to make matters worse, you knew ellie was only a short distance from you & yet it felt like you were eons apart. you felt the empty space in her bed like a hole in the earth, always hard to face whilst simultaneously always begging for your attention.

𐙚 understandably, these two weeks spent in separate sleeping quarters was nigh unbearable for you. but you felt out of place to bring it up. i mean, you'd only known her for a short amount of time. who were you to tell her to change the layout she'd si graciously designed for you?

𐙚 you spent the nights yearning for a woman whose touch you'd barely known, cold despite the heavy blankets atop you.

𐙚 but the days were amazing.

𐙚 you'd developed the habit of cooking breakfast after making it that first morning as a thanks for her hospitality. but after seeing the bright look on her face, you'd instantly decided you wanted to make her breakfast every day for the rest of your life.

𐙚 then, following breakfast, you'd get ready in the small bathroom. the first few days, you bumped into one another an immeasurable number of times, ellie apologizing over & over for the lack of space. but you loved it. it felt more intimate, seeing her rush while brushing her teeth because she'd woken up late. it felt like a life you could get used to. one with her.

𐙚 ellie continued to go to work, throwing on her uniform that you tried your hardest not to swoon over seeing her in. that thin black tank top she wears without a bra? fuck you had to force yourself to look away when she stretched her arms up to brush her hair.

𐙚 when she was gone, you spent your time looking for a new place to stay, lazing about the couch with the tv playing low in the background.

𐙚 oh and also! your fucking boss fired you. despite having worked at that stupid grocer for a year now, he didn't hesitate to fire you after missing a few days. you'd even told him that your apartment burned down. he was insistent that punctuality was key. god you hated him.

𐙚 though, your hatred dulled in comparison to the pure rage ellie felt when you told her the news. she was absolutely appalled that someone could be so inhumane as to not give a damn that your home was now a pile of ash on some pavement. she begged you for his number, promising not to say anything bad. but you knew her better than that. you knew she'd call him insults that'd destroy his elderly pea brain. so, apologetically, you refused her his phone number.

𐙚 so, while ellie was away, you also browsed your laptop for open job opportunities near you.

𐙚 ellie said that she could talk miller into hiring you, but you weren't so sure the life of firefighting was for you. plus, you liked seeing ellie in her uniform without having to experience the obligations that come with it.

𐙚 when ellie got home from work every day, she'd be sweaty and gross and exhausted. she'd formed the habit of flopping down on the couch as soon as she gets home, but you've managed to rid her of that once you saw the grimy muck she'd left on the cushions. she's now learned to shower and change before getting on any furniture. honestly, she seems to like that habit more anyway. she refuses to admit it, but you can tell she enjoys the warm water relaxing her muscles and washing away her fatigue.

𐙚 amber also loved it there, alternating between cuddling up with you in ellie's bed or snuggling at ellie's feet on the couch.

𐙚 well, until the day you guys decided to sleep in the same bed.

𐙚 she had come home after a particularly taxing day at work — the first rescue she'd carried out since saving you. it was a single mother and two twin infants. one of the twins didn't make it, sending the mother into a grief ridden spiral. she was sobbing and angry and needed someone to blame. she ended up blaming ellie, the woman whose name she didn't even know. it was horrible. not that ellie could blame her for it. grief comes in every shape and form, and for this woman she just so happened to take the sharp end of the sword.

𐙚 ellie, being who she was, stayed relatively composed during the event itself. the woman banged on her chest as she wailed, shouting that she should have done more and she would have preferred to have burned.

𐙚 eventually, one of Ellie's coworkers dragged the woman away from her and ellie was excused to go home early.

𐙚 when she got back, she was absolutely distraught.

𐙚 you had just made a new recipe and were waiting in the kitchen for ellie to return with a bright grin on your face. but the moment she walked through the door, your smile shattered.

𐙚 her uniform was scorched and torn, her face lined with filth. and, oh, her expression was heart wrenching. her lips were parted, eyes blank as they stared at the floor. she trudged into the living space, shoulders trembling ever so slightly, and flopped down onto the sofa in a manner you hadn't seen her do in quite some time.

𐙚 you were quick to rush to her side, crouching down beside her as you asked what happened. in a shaky voice, she explained that she'd gotten a baby killed. the pure regret and guilt in her tone made your heart crumble a little in your chest.

𐙚 you moved to sit on the edge of the couch, pulling ellie into your arms as you held her. the feel of your body against hers was all it took for her to break down into tears.

𐙚 she tried her hardest to remain dignified, tears falling silently. but when you began to run your hands through her hair and mutter sweet words of consolations, her cries were less orderly as she clung to you and repeated over & over how it was all her fault.

𐙚 for the rest of that night, she was unable to leave your side. she made you sit on the toilet while she showered. then she made you stay in the bathroom while she changed (you turned around). then you two ate dinner together on the couch while watching a funny adult cartoon to cheer her up, your legs touching at all times.

𐙚 so, when it came time for bed, you'd have been cruel not to offer her the empty space beside you.

𐙚 to say she was excited would be an understatement.

𐙚 you guys laid in silence for a bit, comfortable in the company of the other. but then she spoke into the darkness, her tone thick with the weight of all she'd bore that day. she explained everything in more detail, telling you the story without the bias of her guilt.

𐙚 her voice cracked when she got to the boy's death, her voice pitching higher as she fought a second wave of tears.

𐙚 you shifted toward her, sheets rustling in the darkness. you felt around for her, hand eventually finding her body. you pulled her into a warm embrace, holding all of her vulnerability and grief in your two arms as she relaxed into you, melting against the foreign gentility.

𐙚 after that night, you guys started sharing the bed.

𐙚 amber loved it, of course. both her people in one space? absolute heaven for the elderly cat. some nights, she would curl up in the crook behind your knees & other times she'd find comfort atop ellie's face, causing her to wake coughing and hacking up balls of fur.

𐙚 your guys life was one of (much deserved) bliss and domestic comfort after a long period of difficulty.

𐙚 you had yet to do anything actually romantic. but sharing the home felt just as intimate as kissing would have been. though, you ought to admit, you definitely had your fair share of fantasies when it came to that.

𐙚 anyway!

𐙚 and all the while, you sought out a new place to stay

𐙚 you didn't want to move out of ellie's tiny cottage of a home, but you'd have felt horrible asking her to stay permanently when your relationship wasn't even a solidified thing just yet. and so, you searched the internet for worthy places to house you.

𐙚 ellie avoided the topic of you finding a new home, changing the subject whenever it came up & trying to distract you with something else whenever she saw you were looking at houses. you caught on to this, of course. but frankly, you found it endearing and just let it be. you didn't want to draw attention to her blatant distaste for you leaving, for fear that it'd embarrass her. so you feigned oblivion.

𐙚 ellie went with you to every open-house, claiming she just wanted to watch out for creepy realtors. however, whenever you seemed to genuinely like a house, ellie would find something to complain about to make you no longer want to buy it

𐙚 at first, you let it slide because you knew the two of you were beginning to form some kind of bond.

𐙚 but you eventually had to butt in when you spotted her paying off a realtor when they'd both thought you were checking out a different room. she apologized endlessly for it, but never gave an explanation until you practically forced it out of her, asking what the hell she thought she was doing.

𐙚 that's when it all unraveled.

𐙚 on the property of some random shabby house in an impoverished neighborhood, in a kitchen composed of rotted wood cabinets and peeling wallpaper and chipped floor tiles, ellie confessed her feelings for you. and it couldn't have been more perfect.

𐙚 the realtor had obviously left the scene beforehand, fleeing from shock when you'd walked in on him accepting a wad of cash from ellie.

𐙚 and there you stood, in the hollow house, her words of adorations echoing off the walls. her eyes were everywhere but your face, avoiding making eye contact with you. eventually, you'd grown sick of her rambling and just grabbed her by the cheeks and kissed her.

𐙚 it was a quick peck. a small pressing of lips, just to test the waters and silence her uncertainty. when you pulled back, her face still between your hands, her pupils were blown and her jaw was slackened. you laughed at her, a chuckle rumbling your chest.

𐙚 she gasps, offended by your judgement. but you couldn't stop laughing. she eventually reconnected your mouths, her turn to silence you.

𐙚 this kiss was far more passionate, her hands coming to rest on your hips as her tongue slid across your lower lip. you opened your mouth to allow her entry & she took it vehemently, tongue exploring the warmth of your mouth.

𐙚 from then on, you guys were inseparable in a whole new fashion. the moment you'd gotten home that day, she dragged your straight to the bedroom and memorized the curves and dips of your body with her tongue, giving so much care to your being that you were sure she'd eventually run out of love to give.

𐙚 your hands gripped the tufts of her hair as she buried her face between your legs and continued her memorization down there, your head thrown back in pleasure.

𐙚 you'd eventually lost count of how many rounds the two of you went, a thick layer of sweat clinging to your skin as she shyly asked if you had anything left in you. and of course, you could never deny her anything. you giggled before rolling over to tackle her to the bed, eyes full of nothing short of love.

𐙚 you two only stopped when pounding could be heard on the door.

𐙚 ellie rushed to pull her clothes back on as you did the same, her voice shouting at the visitor to just wait a damn second. though, when she opened the door, it was agnes.

𐙚 she pushed past ellie and went straight to you, though you were still pulling a shirt over your head.

𐙚 she beckoned the two of you to the living room, you and ellie both flushed and out of breath as you sat down across from her. every time you two made eye contact, you had to look away before you hopped right across that table and fucked her again.

𐙚 agnes made small talk for a little bit, asking you about work & whether you'd found another place to stay. though, when you shyly explained that you were planning to live with ellie, she scoffed loudly and said,

𐙚 "oh, finally! i was waiting for one of you to tell me. i'm not a fool, dear, i can tell you've been fucking like rabbits. just didn't know i'd have to force it outta you."

𐙚 from there on out, it was no longer awkward. she was herself again, making suggestive comments to you and passive aggressive ones to ellie. and when amber came up to her for cuddles, she stayed for another two hours just holding the cat.

𐙚 needless to say, you and ellie managed quite well. you have yourself the most perfect life you could ask for and all the family you could need (even if it's just agnes barging in on you guys whenever she pleases). honestly, you couldn't ask for anything else.

[sansaorgana]

— IN PERPETUITY (I)

PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — Two most powerful Lieutenants of Morgoth and twisted lovers in private form a pact through cursed marriage to become their master's equal successors and rule Middle-earth together. He, however, has other plans and does not intend to share. She takes the matters into her own hands.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The idea for this fic showed up in my head while I was working on a different fic with a Maia!Reader, in which she is good and pure and all that. And that other story will be finished and posted, too, but with a delay because I focused on this one first. 🙈 The Reader in this fic is a Maia, so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. This fic will have a second part with Annatar!Sauron but in this part you get only Jack Lowden!Sauron because that ginger loser needs some love and attention as well. 😭🥰 The title of the fanfic and its vibe are inspired by the song Sugarbread by Soap&Skin. Special thanks to @dinsbeskar for giving me the most appreciated feedback before I posted this fic! 💕

WARNINGS — Reader is evil-evil with sadistic undertones, betrayal, murder, manipulation, gaslighting, blood drinking/pact/magic, mentions of Sauron being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron

WORD COUNT — 4,650

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

IN PERPETUITY (I)

It was no surprise to any of The Valar that you were one of the first to follow Morgoth. You always found it troublesome to obey the orders, to show respect or loyalty. As if you had been already created flawed, although no one dared to question Eru’s decisions.

The gods were aware, however, that Morgoth wanted you as his servant as well for he was a god like them. Therefore, they expected you to come back with your tail between your legs, begging for their forgiveness since they were much more merciful masters than he ever would be.

Nevertheless, that did not happen and you became one of the most loyal Lieutenants to the Dark Lord. You sometimes amazed your own self with the amount of cruelty you were able to inflict. Perhaps Eru himself had created you this way indeed – perhaps you were evil by his design. Dark creatures like Morgoth or you were needed to emphasise the lightness – cursed outcasts to show an example.

Morgoth did not even need to break you as much as others who had followed him. He did not feel the need to rebuild you or push you as far as most of his followers because it did not take much for you to become the very worst version of yourself.

You were the lucky one.

Mairon was not.

You could hear his whimpers and screams of pain as he was tortured. And you watched and watched in awe at him transforming with Morgoth's help into the man that would from now on be known as Sauron amongst many.

But to you he would remain Mairon. And Mairon watched you in awe, too.

He observed you with admiration and curiosity. He wanted to be more like you – so terrifyingly beautiful in your art of cruelty. And he was learning the craft from you.

Until, eventually, with your master's help and by his twisted design, Mairon became a Lieutenant as loyal and fierce as you.

And each time he failed at a task given to him by Morgoth, he would come to you first, seeking comfort and hoping you would ease your master before their encounter – like a child would come to their mother, fearing their father's anger.

Everyone knew Morgoth was gracing you with a special treatment. And even though it was unlikely he was able to feel any real affection towards you, many knew that you were the only Lieutenant of his that he actually cared about because you were the only one who abandoned The Valar thoroughly and wholly.

You did not care about him, though. The Valar were right – you did not enjoy being under him; under anyone. And you truly hated the destruction that he was causing as you could not understand the desire of becoming the King of ashes.

You wanted to be the Dark Lady yourself and you often fantasised what you would do if you were him. His god-like status did not intimidate you and you could not care less whether it was a blasphemy or not to imagine yourself as a Vala. No god had ever intimated you.

You were your own god and you wanted to rule over the world. To make it perfect and harmonious.

You became closer with Mairon when you sensed his heart was corrupted with the same thoughts and feelings. And while your Maiar bodies remained focused on the battles and schemes – so unfamiliar with the carnal desires of the flesh – as you spent more and more time together and he shared with you his dream of forging the very special and powerful Rings, you could feel the strange and odd desire growing within you.

One day, you gave in to them.

You heard his screams of pain throughout the fortress like the ones back in the day when Morgoth had been shaping him to his whim and design. Now he was punishing him for one of his failures and your master’s wrath was undeniable.

Mairon was one of his best Lieutenants, therefore Morgoth expected from him the most.

And when the punishment ended, Mairon found himself knocking weakly upon the doors of your chambers. You opened them and gasped at the state of his flesh. He was too weak to heal himself fully, allowing the bruises to form and cuts to bleed.

You welcomed him and laid him down in your bed before tangling your limbs with his; his face buried in your chest as your fingers brushed his ginger hair and gently teased his pointy ears.

"My poor Mairon," you whispered and leaned in to place a kiss upon his temple.

He looked up at you with devotion.

Unlike you, he had been once Eru’s perfect creation – Mairon had been pure in his past, worshipping the Valar like he had been designed to. The Valar were no more in his heart but the devotion remained and you were the subject of it.

"Let me ease your pain," you spoke softly and caressed his cheek with your fingers, making the small cuts disappear as bruises began to fade away. He closed his eyes and sighed out of relief. "Where else can I aid you, my Mairon?" You asked as his eyelids fluttered and opened.

"Everywhere," he breathed out. "I need you everywhere, my Lady."

The odd desire you had been fighting within you for a long time now apparently was not one-sided. Perhaps a Maia fallen was a Maia burdened with such humiliating and carnal needs.

You rolled him over onto his back as you sat astride him with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. Maybe it was not a burden... Maybe it would be a new adventure, a new path to follow.

You got rid of his robes in a haste as his hands weakly caressed your thighs wherever they could reach under your dress. And once he was naked for you – under you – you felt like an animal, driven by the urges you could not stop.

That felt ungodly.

Your fingers curled on his chest, scratching the flesh and you watched your nails leave red trails upon his pale skin. Instead of healing him, you only added more to the pain but the pathetic whimpers leaving his mouth were not of suffering but of pleasure.

"Yours..." was all he gasped as your pupils widened even further. Yours... How good it felt to have him at your mercy.

You were like Morgoth himself now with Mairon laid out for you, eager for you to shape him the way you wished him to be.

And you loved to feel like Morgoth, to share at least a tiny bit of his power. The realisation was enough to make you feel the itch deep inside the heat of your core.

"Mine..." you nodded at Mairon and grasped his length to squeeze it, watching him wince as the flesh hardened under your touch.

You kept pumping him and observing all his sighs, eye rolls and the tremble of his thighs. His eyes filled with tears as he kept bravely staring up at you despite his vision getting blurry and hazy.

Your pace quickened and you used your free hand to caress his thighs gently as if you were trying to soothe them but it only caused them to tremble more while you watched his body giving in to your touch so eagerly and easily.

All of the sudden, just to tease him, you stopped your hand's rapid movements and squeezed the swollen tip. Mairon whined and bucked his hips desperately, the tip of his cock pulsating under your thumb. When you let go of him completely, he spilled himself with a groan and blushing cheeks as his hips kept rutting into nothing.

What a pathetic and yet delicious sight it was. You felt the wetness between your legs leaking down your thighs already.

“You're so fun to play with, my Mairon," you pointed out. "I wish our master allowed me to be the one responsible for your punishments."

"I wish that, too, my Lady," he breathed out, putting his hand on his chest, surprised to feel how fast his heart pounded.

"It is not over yet," you pouted. "You spoiled my fun by giving in to your desires so quickly."

You smirked and with one swift movement you took your dress off to throw it on the floor, revealing your naked form to him. You adjusted yourself and grabbed his cock once more, so swollen and sensitive, which caused Mairon to whimper. You lowered yourself slowly on his length, hissing at the new experience of feeling full.

Your eyes rolled all the way to the back as you threw your head and scratched Mairon's chest when you felt his cock hardening once more inside of you and brushing all the right spots that made you aware of pleasures of the flesh you had never even known of before.

"Divine," he breathed out and you rolled your hips slowly with a whine.

When you adjusted to the slightly burning feeling, your eyes opened with a sparkle of mischief as you began riding him – faster and faster with each given bounce, keeping your eye contact with him although his vision was too hazy to see you clearly.

It was like a trance and you lost track of time. The Maiar needed no rest, therefore it could have been days – maybe even weeks – spent on nothing else but fucking yourself on his cock, using him for your own, newlyfound pleasure; reaching your highs countless of times and beginning all over and over again until the matters much more important than indulging yourselves interrupted your blissful state.

"One day, there will be only the two of us," Mairon whispered into your ear as he watched you getting dressed in front of the mirror. "And we will not leave our chambers for a whole century."

"Would you leave your kingdom unattended for such a long time?" You raised an eyebrow at him. "I certainly would not," you added harshly and fixed your gown's corset one last time before leaving him behind inside your chambers as you walked out with your head held high and back straightened.

With an illusion of dignity that was supposed to hide the fact you had just spent long and endless days on worshipping Mairon’s flesh with nothing but pleasure and devotion as he had been only laying there and receiving and you had been the one to do all the work like he was the master you served.

After Morgoth's defeat, Mairon and you both were the only ones who could possibly become your master's successors for you were his most powerful Lieutenants.

Instead of starting a war between yourselves, you chose to create a pact of taking over Morgoth's legacy together as equals.

The holy bond of marriage was the most suitable way to seal this union for all eternity, especially when it seemed that you two shared the same goal and the same vision of healing Middle-earth and crafting it to fit your peaceful ideal.

The oath had nothing to do with the holy Valinor's customs. You used forbidden dark magic to bind you two together in perpetuity; mixing your black bloods together and drinking the cursed mixture from the cup as you exchanged the rings forged by Mairon himself with your aid; made of dark iron and with powerful spells engraved on them.

Adar was the master of your ceremony. He had stayed by your side after Morgoth's defeat and Mairon had promoted him to the rank of Lieutenant because you two needed smart and loyal people – especially if they had a whole army of the Orcs following their every order.

You could sense your marriage pact with Marion was making Adar a little uncomfortable. He was watching you carefully throughout the ceremony and also during the feast where he was sitting nearby.

Mairon's behaviour was surprising you a little. Never before he had been so open with the amount of his devotion towards you. And now, despite the audience of the Orcs and the fallen Elves, he was all over you, kissing your neck between the sweet nothings whispered into your pointed ear as his fingers intertwined with yours under the table to squeeze your hand.

He was like a dog, you thought, but you could not blame him. He had admired you from the very beginning of his service to Morgoth and now he had you as his spouse. You allowed him to enjoy himself because it was the day of your wedding.

For you, it was more of a transaction. You cared about Mairon to some extent and your flesh enjoyed to fuck his but there was nothing in this world that you would love more than power.

"My Lady, can we talk?" Adar approached you when you were left alone for a moment.

You looked up, surprised, but the seriousness of his expression was making it obvious that the matter was rather important.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" You asked him as you followed him to the dark corner of the room where you could hide in the shadows together.

"I am a bearer of the bad news, I am afraid," Adar started and you furrowed your brows.

"Did Elven armies find our fortress?" You asked.

"No. Not the bad news of this kind," he lowered his voice even more and he glanced at Mairon from the corner of his eye.

You looked at your husband, too. He was talking to some of the fallen Elves and his excitement was revealing that he probably discussed his plans for the future.

"Do continue," you nodded at Adar, looking back at him with curiosity.

"Mairon does not plan to share anything with you," he informed you. "He re-fired Morgoth's crown to fit himself."

Your blood turned cold at the revelation. Morgoth's crown was supposed to be melted and turned into two smaller but equal crowns. That was the deal between you and Mairon – two spouses, two crowns, two Rings, one kingdom.

You glanced once more at your husband. How innocent he seemed at the moment, how devoted to you. And yet…

Your own student outsmarted you in the art of cunning treachery, so it seemed. You gritted your teeth.

"How do you know?" You asked Adar just to make sure.

"I was there," he answered with a hint of smirk, knowing very well that his delay of bringing you the news created a new problem for you.

"And you are telling me this only now? After I am bound to him forever?" Your jaw clenched out of anger as you realised.

"I have been a loyal servant to your husband and it still pains me to betray him by telling you the truth but I must think of my children first and at this very feast I overheard his plans for the Uruk. I cannot let this happen," he revealed and you sighed. You knew what plans he was talking about.

Mairon had never considered the Orcs to be smart creatures, therefore he often was speaking freely and openly about what he planned to do with them or what he was thinking of them because he thought they would not even understand.

Perhaps they would not but their Lord Father would.

"I have never been fond of your children either, Adar," you reminded him.

"Yet you make a better ally than he. I know you can give up on enslaving the Uruk if I helped you to rule over Middle-earth with their army in return. Alone. A Queen with no King," he whispered and his tempting words sent a shiver down your spine.

After a very short moment of hesitation – which surprised you to exist at all – you nodded at Adar.

“Say no more,” you whispered.

And when Mairon informed you a few weeks after your wedding that he wanted to be crowned soon and that he wished for you to be the one to put Morgoth’s crown onto his head, you agreed with a sweet smile that should have made him realise how false it was. But he was too relieved with the fact that you seemed to have no problem at all with giving him the most important title, therefore he did not notice the coldness of your gaze.

"My dear," he kneeled in front of you while you were sitting on the edge of your bed and he held your hands softly in his as he leaned in to kiss them. "It brings me so much joy to know it will be you to lay the crown onto my head. I do not wish for anyone else to bless me for I would not be here if it was not for you."

"Indeed, my sweet Mairon," was all you said with a scolding gaze but, once again, he chose not to see it. “My King,” you added with irony – one more time the tone of your voice remained ignored.

Sometimes, he would use his illusions to fool even himself. And that very thing would turn out to be his demise.

“You will be my right hand, my Queen, my goddess,” he kept assuring you and kissing the palms of your hands as you kept gritting your teeth.

His right hand, he dared to say. You were supposed to be one body, one soul. His Queen and yet she would bear no crown – not the same as his at least. His goddess but his devotion was a lie. He loved power more than he loved you.

But you loved power more than you loved him as well, so it was only fair.

And how else could you repay for his betrayal if not with a betrayal in return?

You already had a whole plan formed with Adar and all you had to do now was to patiently wait for the day of the coronation. You truly hoped that Morgoth's crown was powerful enough to kill your husband, so he could exist no more and so would the bond of blood magic between you be broken forever.

You were wearing beautiful, matching robes with your husband and your only audience were the Orcs and Adar, who was holding Morgoth’s crown as Mairon decided to give a speech to his new army.

You couldn’t help yourself as you kept glancing at the re-fired and re-shaped crown with a bitter and sour expression. 

“Always, after a defeat… the shadow takes another shape and grows again. Morgoth is gone,” your husband announced to the Orcs. “Leaving us alone and disgraced. But today, a new age begins,” he added and you exchanged a meaningful look with Adar at the sight of Mairon’s fingers fidgeting nervously. “Under me. Your new master. Sauron.”

It should have been you. Giving the speech. Being crowned. And you would be. Soon. Very soon.

However, you loved the dramatics as much as your husband. And you would gladly allow him to make a fool out of himself first.

“And with a new age, I bring a new vision. A path to unconditional conquest. For I seek a new kind of power,” Mairon raised his right hand as he spoke, posing to be some sort of a sage sharing his wisdom. “Not of the flesh, but over flesh. A power of the unseen world. One we shall use to enslave the peoples of Middle-earth to our very will.”

The Orcs seemed to be content with his words and for that one thing you admired him, actually – the way he always knew what to say to make people follow him and be enamoured with his visions.

You knew that he did not care about what the Orcs wanted and the words he was using now were nothing but a temptation for them to obey his orders. But it was them he wanted enslaved, not the others. The others were meant to be healed.

“Many Orcs will die,” Mairon added and you felt Adar moving uncomfortably. The Orcs did not seem to be as happy as before and you could not blame them. You glanced at your husband with a raised eyebrow.

Sometimes, even the ones most graced with a gift of the golden speech, would say a sentence too many.

“But out of the chaos, we will forge a new and perfect order. No longer will we be hunted as the demons who broke Middle-earth, but rather worshipped as the saviours who finally healed it,” Mairon smiled, excitedly and you rolled your eyes. “By bringing its peoples together, to rule them all as one!” He raised his hands but he was overdoing himself, it was too much and the Orcs were not as stupid as he believed them to be.

You could sense their nervousness and you could hear their whispers in the Black Speech: “Sauron lies”.

It brought you lots of satisfaction as you smirked to yourself, however you had to hide that smile quickly because your husband’s eyes desperately seeked for yours. He needed your comfort and your encouragement, so pathetically. So desperate to prove his worth as he had always been.

You nodded at him with a sympathetic smile, playing a role of a dutiful and supportive wife.

“Doubt me at your peril,” he began once more but his voice slightly weakened as he did so and then he clasped his hands while his voice suddenly turned darker. He decided to use a different tactic. “You have nowhere else to turn. The Valar will never forgive you. Elves will never accept you,” he pointed out. “Men… Men will never look upon you with anything but horror and disgust,” he added with a hint of satisfaction and contempt.

Perhaps you were not as skilled as he was with your speeches but you knew that this was not the way to lure the Orcs. It was not the way to lure anyone. Mairon was losing control – even the fact his hands were clasped was only trying to hide how shaky they had become.

“A corrupted and ignoble race, worthy only to be haunted and slaughtered,” he continued as the Orcs began to growl. In that moment, you were glad you had your pact with Adar, because otherwise you would not feel safe amongst them.

Suddenly, one of the Orcs standing closest to Mairon attacked him with his blade, making an assassination attempt. Your husband swiftly defended himself and slit his throat, for which you were glad.

You would kill that Orc yourself if he maimed Mairon before you could lay your hands on him. He was yours to slaughter.

As the creature dropped down to his knees and continued choking on his own blood, you watched Mairon pull the Orc even closer and watch his suffering with the same fascinated expression as you had used to watch him when he had been reshaped by Morgoth.

And then, he finished the assassin off with his own blade being put into the Orc’s skull. Over and over again as Adar flinched at the sight of his son being treated this way and the Orcs kept growling in anger.

And you, in that moment – for a short while – actually considered following your husband like you had once followed Morgoth. To forgive him his betrayal and to play along the role of a dutiful wife.

His cruelty spurred you on as you watched and watched, refusing to look away until the Orc’s body hit the floor and Mairon threw away the blade to fix his ginger hair that had gotten messy from the fight.

You could sense his frustration. His blood was now flowing in your veins just like yours was flowing in his.

“I am your only future and my path is your only path!” He yelled at the Orcs, fury and rage filling him whole and causing the veins of his face to fill up and swell with his thick and black blood.

You cleared your throat, awkwardly. The admiration you had felt not even a minute earlier was all gone now and once again you felt ashamed of your husband.

Morgoth had never yelled desperately like that to get respect. He had never threatened – not so openly. His very presence had been enough to follow him out of fear.

“Who among you dare say otherwise?” Mairon asked, more calmly now.

Soon, he would find out who exactly dared.

But so far, he still trusted you. He turned his head around and nodded at you, his eyes filled with faith.

You nodded back and took Morgoth’s crown from Adar’s hands. It was heavy and powerful as its dark magic vibrated from it all throughout your body when you carried it towards the crowd.

The Orcs were snarling at you when you raised your hands with the crown, not pleased at all that you were about to lay it upon your husband’s head.

“All Hail, Lord Sauron!” Adar exclaimed in the Black Speech. “The New Dark Lord.”

The Orcs hesitated but they followed what their Lord Father said.

“All hail!” They chanted and you walked away to your husband, who had just kneeled for you.

Like in the old days, before all the battles Morgoth had been sending him to. Mairon would kneel and you would bless him with your sword.

You raised your hands once more as a thrill of excitement went through your body. Mairon looked up at you through the crown placed above his head and you could spot the hint of doubt. Your bond worked both ways and he could sense something disturbing about you but you soothed him with a soft and fake smile.

Unsurely, he lowered his head once more and looked down, waiting for you to grace his head with the burden of the crown.

And the crown was a burden indeed. So full of dark and powerful magic that you knew already it was most certainly enough to kill a spirit like your husband.

You turned it around in a swift movement and lowered it with all your strength to stab him in the back of his neck as the crown’s poison infected his veins and made him move back out of the sudden pain.

You took the crown away from him and took a few steps back to stand next to Adar as the Orcs began screaming and approaching you all. Mairon’s eyes were full of surprise and disappointment and he kept them only on you as you graced him with the same soft smile you had been giving him for weeks now; for him to finally realise how false it was all this time.

“You could have kept your promise, my pet,” you told him in the Quenya language.

Your words angered him and he tried to stand up with his weakened limbs to fight you but in that very moment a group of Orcs attacked him all at once, stabbing his flesh continuously as you watched. He was making an attempt to fight them back and for the state he was in, he was truly doing well, but they were too many and he was alone.

And even if some part of you would truly mourn for your husband, the dark item in your hand with his blood dripping down on the floor from its iron spikes was enough to bring your mind back on the right path.

And as the Orcs kept stabbing his body, which was laying now in the puddle of dark and sticky blood, you raised the crown once more and put it on your own head, feeling Mairon’s blood dripping from it onto your face.

You licked your lips to get the taste. For the one last time you tasted him as you smirked.

You turned your head around to nod at Adar and he nodded back at you.

All hail the New Dark Lady.

MASTERLIST

[hybriddhthepoet]

Beneath the Iron Veil

By HybridDH Art by ghosty_entity https://x.com/ghosty_entity?s=21

In the heart of night’s deepest clutch,

Where brimstone burns and hammers thrash,

I toll away ’neath the soot-black sky,

Bound to the forge where the weaklings die.

This hellish pit, this eternal grind,

The swing of my hammer, both curse and bind.

The iron resists, my spirit depletes,

In the relentless echo of my heart’s bleak beats.

The damned forces, they wear me thin,

A soul corroded by the din.

Yet I stand firm in the blistering glow,

A forged man, no semblance of woe.

Through the veil of night, I chase mere bread,

In the mines where hope fears to tread.

The coal sears my flesh; I am marred,

Deeper still where the exits are barred.

It’s a choking hell, this miner’s cage,

Where the air is thick and the walls enrage.

But stop I can’t, it’s a maddening lure,

The grind that promises but never ensures.

My body’s a wreck, oh, I’m breaking down,

Yet I can’t fucking stop, can’t bear to drown.

I need to halt, to breathe, to cease,

Yet the chains of labor deny my peace.

These days stretch endless, a cruel jest,

Each sunrise mocking my lack of rest.

What is this life if not a trap?

Where dreams are dreams, and bridges snap.

I’m not the sage, not the learned man,

Just a husk, driven since this all began.

Whittled by duty, by life’s sharp knife,

Carved out of the shadows, devoid of life.

Yet, there’s a beauty in this brutal fight,

In the sweat-soaked days and the coal-black night.

The flicker of hope in a lover’s touch,

The fleeting peace that offers much.

Every strike sparks a bit of my soul,

In the blistering forge that takes its toll.

And though I curse the heavens, forsaken in toil,

I’m tethered to this accursed soil.

Why, oh why, must this be my fate?

To grind and suffer, to spurn and hate.

When will God lend His goddamn hand?

Am I not His creature, shaped by His command?

Yet, amidst the forge’s unforgiving flame,

I find a fierce will no god can tame.

For though I’m cast in the deepest mine,

Each hammer’s fall marks a design.

A life of steel, of fire, of pain,

A spirit tempered, born again.

For each day I rise, broken, anew,

To face the dark with a grim view.

I’ll keep swinging, keep making my mark,

In the belly of earth, in the endless dark.

And when I’m gone, let them say I stood tall,

Against the tide, against it all.

For I am more than this soot, this sweat,

More than the iron, the forge’s threat.

I am the fire, the will, the might,

A smith of my fate, in the dead of night.

So let the winds of hardship howl and moan,

In the mines of sorrow, I’ve found my throne.

A king of ashes, of dust, of bone,

In the silent depths, I reign alone.

This is my saga, grim and long,

A testament written in sweat and song.

For even in darkness, deep and sheer,

The forge’s fire makes everything clear.

[stra-tek]

Lots and lots of random spoilerific things about Star Trek comics

Gold Key's old run was written by people who had never actually seen the show. Later they involved fans like Doug Drexler to make things a bit more authentic

This however made them, IMHO, amazing

Blond scotty. Wearing green.

Voodoo planet, with papier mache versions of Earth landmarks which, when blasted with a death ray, cause the real ones to collapse

Spock learns voodoo to combat this threat

The Enterprise completely razes a planet of hostile plant spore things. Like full on extermination of all life

There's a locked room on deck 7 full of evil Vulcan spirits. A yeoman blunders in and all hell breaks loose

Kirk doesn't know what a god damn black hole is

Spock is kidnapped by aliens, has their entire knowledge downloaded into his brain which makes him into a bobblehead for awhile

The Enterprise is briefly taken from Kirk and given to Captain Zarlo, who is a total bellend

Spock forgets to have pointed ears sometimes

The old UK newspaper comic strips were even worse. The first few issues feature "Captain Kurt" and he wears a red shirt. Bailey is also a lead character, giving away which one episode they had knowledge of

Depictions of the Enterprise in their very first strip will shock and horrify you, but after that the art becomes amazing and maintains a very high standard

Marvel did a series following The Motion Picture, and it was a vast improvement, although they technically had rights to the movie and not the series, which led to a little weirdness. Tons of references still were snuck in, though

There's a series of Book and Records, which you can listen to on YouTube and are goofy fun. The Enterprise desperately needs a meal in the art, though.

They draw Romulans as green wizards

They didn't have the rights to Nichelle Nichols or George Takei's likenesses, so get ready for White Uhura and Black Sulu!

They didn't have the rights to The Animated Series either, so M'Ress is a human with weird face paint and Arex is substituted for just some guy

There's an unlicensed Chinese adaptation of The Motion Picture's novelisation (made with zero prior knowledge of Star Trek), which features an all-star cast like O.J. Simpson as Decker and James Brolin as Kirk. It's called The Star Trek, which is a better name than The Motion Picture, IMHO.

DC comics' first run is considered some of the best Trek ever. They're made with love and a deep knowledge of the source material

You know how Star Trek III takes place right after II? WRONG. It was several months later and the crew (with Saavik taking over from Spock) had tons of adventures in the interim. It just seemed like it was right after😂

Before Worf and long long before Ash Tyler, Kirk had a Klingon on his crew

He was a cowardly Klingon named Konom who fled the Empire

He fell in love with a human woman named Bryce

They adopted an albino Klingon/human child with dwarfism which they named Bernie

Kirk has an unhinged, insubordinate crewman on board named Bearclaw and they hate each other

Tension escalates and eventually there's a stabbing

Sulu/M'Ress happens and I don't think people knew what furrys were in the 80's

You know how Spock comes back at the end of III but isn't his old self until the end of Star Trek IV? WRONG AGAIN. He came back just fine, and lost his marbles following an incident months later that just happened to line everything up to make it all seem like it was right after.

After STIII, Kirk becomes captain of the U.S.S. Excelsior NX-2000 and Spock becomes captain of the U.S.S. Surak. We get a few issues exclusively focusing on Spock's ship and his band of merry weirdos.

The U.S.S. Surak keeps changing design, starting off as a sort of Oberth-class ship, then randomly becoming an Excelsior-class ship and finally ending as the warp sled shuttlecraft from The Motion Picture

The Surak's crew include a giant chicken man, a Vulcan hating racist lady and a balding man with a bicycle

They all die horribly and a massive reset button is pressed so everyone is exactly where they were at the end of Star Trek III

In order to make that work they had to bs that the Klingon Bird of Prey was hidden in Excelsior's shuttlebay all this time despite it being way, way too big for that

There's a full on mirror universe invasion

Kirk becomes a celebrity from saving the galaxy all the time

Mr. Arex comes back and becomes chief of security but doesn't really do much

HORTA CREWMEMBER. It's as amazing as it sounds

The first Next Generation comic miniseries was made with knowledge of the first 2 or 3 TNG episodes and nothing else

Everyone is hench as fuck. Picard has washboard abs and bulging muscles

Data is emotional and Troi feels the emotions she senses a la "Encounter at Farpoint"

Wesley is drawn as if he's 10

The B-shift con and ops team are a husband and wife who wear caped superhero versions of Starfleet uniforms with bare legs.

They argue. A lot.

The crew meet an alien Santa Claus and Q loses his powers years before "Deja Q"

The whole Q Continuum visits the Enterprise and they're all John De Lancie but in Starfleet uniforms of every colour under the sun.

After that initial miniseries, the Next Gen crew lose a lot of their muscle mass and start resembling their on screen counterparts a lot better

Picard had a brother who fell down a hole and died as a child. Q offers to rewrite history so he doesn't die. Claude Picard grew up to be Space Superhitler and turns Starfleet and the Federation fascist.

Before all this Q turned Jean-Luc into a goat for the lolz

Marvel's The Early Voyages was very literally Strange New Worlds before Strange New Worlds.

They have a pyrokinetic security officer named Nano and he's awesome

Marvel lost the Trek license quite suddenly, and so the series ends on a cliffhanger where Admiral April is up to something iffy.

Marvel did a Starfleet Academy series featuring Nog and its utterly fantastic

A female Andorian cadet tries to make Nog feel at ease by greeting him in the nude, but Nog fails to take it as an innocent gesture and she immediately sends him flying across the room

Romulan agents with split personalities in Starfleet Academy!

They visit Talos IV and get help from Captain Pike, who's still alive

IDW comics did a prequel to the 2009 reboot where Picard is an ambassador, Data is captain of the Enterprise-E and Nero has hair. It was co-written by the movie writers and was considered sort of vaguely semi canon ish for a time

They originally wanted the Romulan supernova to destroy a lot more, including Earth and have Nero kill the TNG crew. It was the Star Trek Online devs that got them to scale things back because they'd have no universe left to set their game in.

Nero's ship looks like it does because after Romulus was destroyed he took it to a secret Romulan base and had it equipped with reverse-engineered Borg technology

You thought DC struggled to keep ship designs correct? IDW's comics keep using traced fan art from Google Images, and fan art (sometimes with unique ship designs) has shown up on multiple occasions as the Kelvinverse U.S.S. Enterprise

In one IDW TOS comic, the bridge is totally covered with TNG LCARS graphics.

In another, an Orion ship is a gigantic Stargate sticking out of the middle part of Battlestar Galactica.

Wanna see Kelvinverse versions of TOS episodes? That was their first comics run, picking up after the 2009 reboot movie. They start off very faithful and as the series goes on things diverge more and more

To the extent some stories have very different backstories and outcomes

We visit 2 Kelvin mirror universes and a genderswapped universe too. No, Kirk doesn't do what you're thinking.

Q visits the Kelvin Universe and brings the crew forward in time to their version of Deep Space Nine

Nero's time in Klingon prison (from the Star Trek 2009 deleted scenes) and escape is fleshed out

Nero meets V'ger.

Nero mind melds with V'ger.

V'ger turns away due to the sheer force of Nero's hatred.

I wish I was making that up.

Klingons get their hands on Narada's technology and go to war

We get a Khan backstory where the Eugenics Wars are a full on nuclear conflict and "Khan" is the title that little Noon Sing adopts when he takes power

After being revived in the 23rd century, Admiral Marcus has Khan surgically altered to look like Benedict Cumberbatch as part of his John Harrison cover identity

They did a series of shorts called Waypoint, and in the first one Geordi is captain of a future Enterprise and his crew is made up of holographic versions of Data and it's a really sweet concept (this was several years before before ST: Picard brought Data back twice)

There's a prequel series centred around Number One where nobody manages to say her name before being interrupted. If you put the bits together it seems her name was Eureka Robbins. Of course, this is long before novels and SNW made her Una Chin-Riley.

[xesnox]

Minecraft Wither.

Reupload from my Bluesky.

This was specifically a concept for my Minecraft game theories AU, I’m still figuring things out but I think this might come close to a final design,

It’s supposed to be the Wither, the one that wiped out a large chunk of the ancient builders. Might make it look more Devine / significant as a result but this is what we‘re rolling with for now.

Lore below cut.

About the Wither.

The Wither is an amalgamation of deceased human flesh and bone, ashes, biomechanical engineering and the souls of the soldiers who fell in the process of moving colonies to the nether. it is a product of said horrible dimensions way of harnessing death as a natural power source, and a result of a gone wrong (or perhaps divinely punished) resurrection attempt. It was called to life by an enormous wave of grief, hate, agony, death and mass hysteria following the discovery of soul magic and the first massive loss of one of the many strikes the Ancients made against the Piglin in a greedy attempt to conquer land.

The thing about the Ancients is that even though they appear to be just slightly less primitive than the average modern day builder in thought, they were, at some point, blessed by the gods, wich caused a strange process wich, if enough of them were present, had (sometimes physical) effect on the environment around them, and could lead to manifestation of whatever they believed. Wich ended horribly for them as all it took was a single bad event for an endless spiral.

The Wither was the first creature born of hate, not one wich was given life by the desire to progress as a society, but one that was born of pure unadulterated hate, grief and agony.

And it reflects its birthplace as such.

As it does nothing but spread just that like a plague, withering the ground below it and sending particles of decay flying, wich, if they were to touch you, would curse your skin to burn and rot wherever it made contact. It absorbs the death it causes, growing stronger the more destruction it spreads, but never loosing its goal: to hunt and kill all those responsible for summoning it.

But it, eventually, vanished completely alongside its creators, and has never been seen since.

If anyone in the modern day for whatever foolish reason decided to summon it, a disclaimer should be given that it is not entirely possible, at least not to our knowledge. You can recreate such a being in rough shape, size and behavior but no amount of intention can ever recreate the society wide wave of panic that summoned the creature that wiped out 87% of the overworld in the blink of an eye.

The creature you’d find yourself eye to eye with if you did succeed would be a lesser version of the one your ancestors had to face, three heads, each owning a white pair of eyes filled with concentrated soul energy, boney body, spreading death and decay across anything it touches; as it is a reflection of your own anger, ache and loss; but always, always primitive, and broken, lesser and incomparable. The creature they discovered was a virtually unkillable beacon of doom, the one you can is a personal shadow.

Still the introduction of such a massively destructive foe into an (especially a closed off) ecosystem of any kind is strictly prohibited, as it is extremely harmful for our still recovering Dimension as a whole.

@your-ne1ghbor @pennysucks

[mailontumb]

HC for the LSSMP!☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

Spoke and Minute are definitely siblings or half siblings

Bacon and Planet likes to kidnap their friends to surprise them for their surprise birthday party

Rek met Branzy during Childhood and is really close friends and never once lied or try to keep things away from each other

Clown and Kab ARE DEFINITELY SIBLINGS. LIKE HOW ARE THEY NOT (it could be like half or step siblings)

Zam is the Dance king

Pangi likes hanging out with Zam cus he is the only one who understands him

Derapchu takes pictures of everyone's feet and sells it to the internet

Jumper is half Bunny

Squiddo learned how to glitch after asking ash to teach her

Ash secretly has a picture of people he likes in his Glitch Room

Red HATES tomatoes as everyone compared him to one

The reason Chief is grey is because he Might've painted himself grey or just have stone genetics

Although Mid has multiple of the exact same hoodie but she is a MASTER designer

Clown kidnapped Branzy for their first date

Oh and Kab often comes to Clowns date cus their mom said so

Flame found Mane terrorizing people and thought "I relate to bro" and became bestie ever since

Parrot can communicate with any bird but Owl cus it scares him

EVERYONE but rek HAS SLEEP PARALYSIS DEMONS

Rek doesn't have SPD cus he over thinks that his base is trapped and the Monster felt really bad haunting him

Oh yea The SPD is worse on Derapchu cus he once took a picture of the Demon's feet and it got really offended

Hanna knows EVERYONE's Secrets (she was the first person who knows about Clownzy after accidentally trying to gamble at the casino)

Cookie God is the LSSMP God too but he barely takes care of the place cus he trusts the listener to take care of it

Rek sprays people with water if they cuss in his video

1 time Vortex challenge Vitalasy and Jeppexx to a Lemon eating competition, Vitalasy won at 150 lemons in 30 minutes

Vortext is often offline but when he is online every makes it a celebration

The LSSMP have their own birthday but Ro doesn't as he was an escaped Watcher

Watchers Can't interact with LSSMP only the listeners can, so that makes LSSMP a safe haven for all those who are running away from the watchers

Hanna ran away from the Watchers 5 TIMES with each attempts getting harder and harder

Only 5 people knows about the situation of LSSMP that being G,P,M,Ro and Hanna, 3 of which tried to escape &only 2 made it the other one was returned back to the watchers and was punished

Mr cube can do a double backflip and likes tea parties!

4cvit is the reason why child labor exists

Someone mistaken SB for a penguin and called animal control,which they grabbed him and sent him back to the icy pole, parrot came and took him back

Leo REALLY likes gold and even tried to marry a golden statue

Pentar only ever have 1 shirt and tries to revive it every time it's torn

Speptical was the one who married Clown and Branzy, Rek,Leo,Minute,Kab,Jumper and Jaron being witnesses

Jaron solves many mysteries but also makes many more of them

Woogie had the same situation as SB but instead of anyone saving him he just visited his parents and traveled back to the LSSMP

Wemmbu escaped hell twice, so he is put on a watch list with clown

Also wemmbu ate his jail cell's bar and escaped with Zam

Mappic is left handed and likes playing arm wrestling with people

Poafa is a cloud, meaning he can fly and turn into a cloud

People often wonder where terrain lives but never tried to search

Branzy's bloodline is the apart of the watchers making ash half watcher and demon <- (cus of clown)

⁠━⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ⁠━⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ⁠━⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ⁠━⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ⁠━⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*

｡⁠:ﾟI'll be back for more 😼😼! Lelele ﾟ⁠:⁠｡

[lovesodakid]

what a tease.

chris x fem!reader

summary: y/n and chris have a ‘weird’ friendship. that friendship took a sexual turn one night. which ultimately led them to being friends with benefits. now, playing card games with everyone with slight teasing between two of them.

warnings: smut!, teasing, dom!chris(ish). should be it. *not proof read*

____________________________________________

“oh my god, nick!” i whine, throwing my face into my hands.

the triplets, madi, and i are all having a game night at the triplets house. we all collectively decided that we needed to have a night to our selves, all of us being so busy with work causing us to almost barely see each other anymore.

nick, matt, and madi sit on the couch as chris and i are sat on the floor in front of the coffee table facing the couch. a deck of UNO cards sitting in a nice stack in the middle of the table, while right beside it, is a messy stack of cards that’s been thrown down by each of us.

nick just threw the +4 card down on me.

“sorry y/n!” he giggles, showing anything but empathy in his face.

i groan before grabbing 4 cards off of the stack, earning myself 2 reverse cards, a +2 card, and a regular blue number 9 card.

chris being after me, he lays down his choice of card before speaking.

“you’re definitely the type to throw tables when you lose a game y/n/n.”

my eyebrows furrow as i shoot him a disapproving look.

“you are so insanely wrong,” i begin. “i might hate losing but i definitely don’t throw tables.”

“i don’t know, you kinda seem like that type.” matt chimes in.

i throw my hands in the air, opening my mouth to speak until i get cut off by nick and madi agreeing while laughing to themselves.

the game continues, music humming at a low volume coming from the tv.

once the game end games with matt winning, we sit around in the same spots, just talking about life and what our plans for the future are.

“i’m working on new designs for second choice right now, i don’t have anything else going on other than that at the moment.” madi explains to all of us.

“can i see some!” nick asks excitedly.

“of course!” madi smiles, grabbing her phone, scrolling on it, seemingly showing nick her designs as he lets out a few ‘oo’s and ‘ahh’s in adoration.

matt, sitting next to them scrolling on his own phone.

chris and i, sitting next to each other, also on our own phones. occasionally showing each other funny tiktoks that’s come across our for you pages.

“here.” chris says. pointing his phone toward me so i can see his screen.

i look over to his phone, expecting some video of someone falling, like he’s showed me pretty much everytime he decides to show me something.

but oh. was i wrong.

when i look at his phone, it’s one of those slide pictures, with a red background. i swipe two times before reading the words on the red screen.

“you look good in clothes. but you’d be looking fine ash without them.”

im surprised my eyeballs didn’t come rolling out of my head by how wide my eyes opened, along with my mouth.

i shake my head, pushing his phone away from me as he lets out a small chuckle.

a few moments go by, occasional conversations between nick and madi, sounds coming from our phones, and the music in the background filling the silence.

until i feel a warmth on my exposed thigh, due to my pajama shorts. i look down, noticing chris’s hand almost completely covering it. god. how i love his hands.

i quickly come out of my trance of staring at his hands as i look up to him, furrowing my eyebrows.

he notices, and mouths a quick “what?”.

i look down to his hand, then back up to him, almost as if to say: “what are you doing?”

with that, he just gives me a cocky grin as he turns his attention back to his phone, keeping his hand on my thigh.

thankfully, it seems like everyone else is in their own little world, completely oblivious to chris’s actions as he slowly and sensually works his hand more upwards. closer and closer to my center until his middle and ring finger are slightly ghosting over the middle of my shorts.

“hey y/n/n, do you want to see my new designs?” madi asks, turning her phone around to face me as she slightly leans over the coffee table.

“sure!” i smile, leaning my own body forward a little bit.

in my peripheral vision, i notice chris’s face being taken over by a sly smirk. before i can question it, i feel a quick up and down motion right on my clothed clit. that’s why he was smirking.

“so…what do you think?” madi asks, excitedly.

i clear my throat to choke back a small moan as his finger movement speeds up. “t-they’re gorgeous!” i chirp back.

she smiles sweetly at me as she leans back into the couch, attention going back to her phone.

i turn my own attention on to not making any sounds as chris continues to speedily move his fingers against me.

i grab his hand with mine, harshly moving it to his own lap as i leave it there. which causes him to quickly snap his head toward me with the most smug grin on his face.

i roll my eyes, turning my phone back on to scroll through instagram.

“hey do you guys wanna bake some brownies?” nick questions the group excitedly.

-

“and now we wait 30 minutes.” madi tells us, setting the pan of uncooked brownies into the oven.

“i don’t know if i can wait that long!” chris groans loudly.

“you’ll be fine kid.” matt chuckles, picking up the trash that was left over from our baking.

i walk over to get the bowl of brownie batter. because everyone knows brownie batter is the best part about brownies.

i swirl the spoon around the bowl, picking up some of the left over mix. i lift it up to my mouth, licking the spoon clean as i hum at the chocolatey taste.

i go to put the spoon back in the bowl to scoop up the rest but i stop as i get the feeling of eyes burning holes into me. i look up, noticing chris staring at my mouth. like his eyes can’t be ripped away.

i smile to myself, scooping up the rest of the batter before i stick my tongue out, slowly licking up the spoon. i hold eye contact with chris as i do so.

“hey y/n…can you come help me pick out an outfit for our next photo shoot?” chris asks, a small hint of urgency lacing his voice.

i nod my head, putting the empty bowl and spoon into the sink.

“don’t take too long, we got brownies to eat!” nick exclaims as chris and i make our way to his room.

well more of chris dragging me to his room.

once we get to his bedroom door, he swiftly opens it, pulling me into the room behind him. he practically slams the door shut as he pushes me against the back of it, pinning me to it.

“what the fuck was that?” he rasped.

i furrow my eyebrows, allowing a playful smirk to spread across my face.

“what?” i question dumbly.

“you know what.” he retorts.

i shake my head side to side. “no i don’t.” i say mockingly.

he lets out a low chuckle before leaning into me, his lips grazing over my ear. i’d be a fool to say the sound of his husky laugh coming from his mouth didn’t turn be on tremendously.

“licking that spoon like that?” he rasps, lifting his left hand to caress the left side of my face as he breaths into my right. “the same way you use that tongue on my dick?”

he closes the gap, his mouth attaching itself on that spot right under my ear.

“chris!” i yelp breathlessly, the tingling in my abdomen becoming almost unbearable from the teasing earlier and now this.

“hmm?” he hums. “what is it baby?” he detaches hisself from me, staring into my eyes.

i whine at the detachment as i return his gaze.

“i need you.” i whine in a whisper.

“mhm.” he hums, a smirk present on his face as he connects our lips.

our lips dance across each other smoothly like a ballerina sways across a stage.

his left hand slides from my cheek to my neck, wrapping his hand around it firmly as he pulls me off the door.

he swiftly turns me around, walking me backwards until the back of my knees hit the smooth frame of his bed.

he intensifies the pressure on my throat. but as quickly as he does, it’s also gone as he uses that to push me onto the pillowy soft comforter of his bed.

my body bounces from the impact before stopping, sinking into the mattress.

he waists no time in using his hands to loop around the waistband of my pajama shorts, yanking them down. they end up finding home somewhere on his bedroom floor.

“god ‘ma. did i do this to you?” he groans, noticing the wet patch in my orange lace underwear. he takes his index finger, running it up and down my clothed folds. repeating his steps from earlier.

my hips buck up, not expecting the sudden motion.

“chris!” i cry out.

“shh baby,” he removes the hand from my center, covering my mouth with it. “don’t want them to hear you, hm?”

i nod my head. he smirks, removing it. “think you can handle being quiet?” he husks, removing his sweatpants.

i nod my head once again, this time at a faster pace than before.

he pushes his red boxers down, stepping out of them. his cock visibly throbbing, needing attention.

he kneels back down between my legs, his hands making their way up the plush of my thighs. once he reaches the lining of my panties, his fingers hook around them before skillfully gliding them down. which also end up making home on his bedroom floor.

“we gotta be quick ‘ma.” he breathes out. referring to the fact that there’s still a house full upstairs.

he crawls over me, using his hands to hold himself up as they come on each side of my head.

“you ready baby?” he cooes, rubbing his hand up and down my clothed stomach. the both of us only being nude from waist down.

“yes.” i whisper, entangling my hand in his hair.

he smiles as he looks down between us. i moan softly as his tip begins pushing into me.

“fuck.” he groans as he bottoms out, his head falling into the crook of my neck.

“move chris, please.” i whimper.

he pulls out, leaving his tip in before he pushes back in at a slow pace.

he continues the slow thrusts, my walls hugging his dick in all of the right ways.

“chris, faster!” i moan out.

almost as if he was waiting for me to say it, he speeds his thrusts. rutting into me at a harsh but pleasurable pace.

“taking me so well, hm?” he grunts into my ear. the rasp of his voice traveling through my ear straight to my pussy.

the tip of his dick continuously kissing the sweet spot inside me, sending me over the edge.

“mm-fuck.” i moan quietly, reminding myself of the people upstairs.

“were you thinking about this when you were licking that spoon like that?” he grunts. “maybe next time you can use that pretty little tongue on my cock?”

i moan in response. his hips snapping into mine at a quick pace.

“chris-i’m gonna cum!” i warn, feeling the coil in my stomach get closer to snapping.

“c’mon baby, cum for me.” his already quick pace speeding.

almost as if my body needed confirmation, the coil snaps immediately. ecstasy coating my body.

“fuck.” chris moans in a grunt. his hips sputtering as he paints my insides white.

we lay with our body’s connected for a moment as we both catch our breaths.

he eventually pulls out, causing both of us to hiss at the slight overstimulation. he walks to his bathroom, grabbing a towel to clean the both of us up.

once we’re both clean, he dresses himself before dressing me.

“let’s head up now, yeah?” he pulls me up, leaving a small kiss on my forehead as i nod.

we both make our way out of his bedroom, back upstairs to join everyone else.

“took you long enough! the brownies are done!” nick yells excitedly. a plate with a half eaten brownie sitting on it. matt and madi sitting with him at the table.

____________________________________________

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long to get out !! im working on sts 6! and sorry this is so rushed, esp towards the end, i kept zoning out during it so it lowkey kinda sucks lol

(also thank you to @imwetforyourmom and @bernardsbendystraws for lowkey helping me out w this 🙏)

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[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

16 - Ashes of Various Grey

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 16.1k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, character death, mention of child death, description and threats of violence, mental duress, execution, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, possessiveness

Notes: The length is absurd because I have zero self control, but hey part 4 starts today. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Shireen had always been as fascinated by the Targaryeans as she was fearful of them. Many years she had spent asking and wondering if the dragons carved into stone of the ornate castle would one day come to life, always in a fear. Yet you could recall the books she had on them, her favourites always being about Aegon’s conquering. Part of you had always wondered if it was growing up on Dragonstone that caused the interest. The volcanic rocky terrain that surrounded your home, the impossibly beautiful yet terrifying design of the castle itself with dragons atop pillars and towers. All mixed with the looming not so distant history that you and her grew up in the very place that homed the dragon riders that would soon conquer the lands.

You never cared much for it, not for the stories, not for the dragons and not for the oddness of the Targaryeans and their strange and unseemly ways of life. But she did, Maester Cressen once said that teaching her to read was a terrible idea since it took him days to get her to pay attention to any other lessons once she started understanding the words of history. She yearned for adventure, and you had always spoken of many and the older she got the bigger the adventures were promised. Dragonstone was no place for a girl like her to grow up but you made it work as best you could to see her smile.

You told yourself it was hypocritical. You had refused to let the Nights Watch and Wildings burn Jon’s body and yet you let the same fate be that for your baby sister. Trying to tell yourself that the Targaryeans burned the bodies of their dead, and following a ritual of something that fascinated the girl was one last indulgence of her passions. But part of you, knew it was childish desperation.

You didn’t do what you had done, for them. Not for the red woman, not for her god, and not for whatever visions she saw in the flames that demanded a sacrifice. You had given her a death that would end the suffering she was laying in. Almost unrecognizable from what her own mother let happen, kept asleep with essence of nightshade solely because the pain alone could end her. She cried and begged to you it was a mistake, but she let it happen. She allowed Melisendre to drag your sister onto a pyre and only cried for it to stop when her screams became too much. She died without knowing you came back to her, and it was their fault. It was your mother and this red priestess that whispered in her ear.

But perhaps burning her, wasn’t just for Shireen. You woke from what felt like the dead to a life with none left in it. Robb and your son dead without you, most of his and your family dead across the lands and finally as you found your way back to some, you found just more death. She had said burning that of King’s Blood was a sacrifice needed, and perhaps if there was the slightest chance giving Shireen to the fire would find a way to bring your father back maybe you should just do it. She was already gone, and burning bodies was the way the far North did things now but perhaps a tiny helpless part of you wondered if it would bring Stannis Baratheon back.

You had no idea if he had died hating you, still thinking you as a traitor but perhaps it would be easier to look at the cold hateful eyes of him, then it was to look at nothing left but quiet.

One day had been spent thrown back into the duty of a leader and yet every single choice you made was done alone, done out of desperation, and every single thing just felt like you were nothing of a leader that the King’s once around you were.

The cold of the night was painful, stinging your face and hands as you walked through the tunnel hearing the whirling of wind ting in your ears. The sheet of white in your arms was all you’d allow anyone to see. She didn’t deserve to be remembered this way, she deserved to be remembered as the girl she once was.

Coming to the end, the land opened up to a vast clearing that led into the darks of a forest you had seen in your dreams. The fire was no ceremony, no ritual to be done. Small enough for a girl.

Your mother stood beside Ser Davos on the right in front of him, and you could see Theon and Edd standing a smaller distance away keeping watch. None said a word as you approached. Your eyes far off as your lungs refused to even breathe. Gently, you knelt down to lay her on the flattened pyre. Running a hand over where the top of her hair lay under the sheet. She deserved more then this.

Coming up to your side, Tormund held a torch as he crouched beside you. Most wouldn’t speak a word in such a situation, but you found a small appreciation in how comfortably he approached you. Voice low and grumbling as he watched. “Why bring her out here to do it?”

There was a gentleness in the way you looked and touched her that was uncommon of most everyone he had met. You wanted to smile at the memory, but you felt only the way the dagger so easily slid into the base of her skull. “She had never even left home before this. She always dreamed of adventures and the last time I saw her, I’d promise to take her on one.”

He had told Jon once that once they burn their dead that’s it, there’s nothing else to it. But then there was the anger in finding his body, the way Edd had closed Jon’s eyes as he spat that some fucker had butchered him. And now in the way you looked like this was the one last tie to the world before you faded away forever, you weren’t speaking to him really. The whisper for the girl under the sheet.

“I know it’s not where I said I’d take you. I’m sorry I couldn’t fulfill my promise, but beyond the wall is as far as either of us have ever been. A small adventure is still an adventure none the less, right?” Leaning down you pressed one last gentle kiss to her forehead before Tormund handed you the torch.

Both standing up, you placed it down onto the wood before backing away to stand to the left of your mother and Davos. The flames lit and burned in flickering quiet, the crackling of wood all there was to hear and none of the screams that haunted the night before in the chaos.

Your face was still, unmoving and in life’s previous you’d have wondered if you looked cold and uncaring but you knew the tears slipping from your eyes as you watched the fire consume more of her, they all could see. Your pain sat right in the colours of your eyes and as you looked into the flames you saw nothing. Whatever visions were said to be there, you only found the last of those who held your heart and a life of darkness alone in the hours of the next morning to await what was left of you.

The only ones left were three of you. Edd continued to watch, and would make sure you got safely behind the wall once you were ready to go back through the tunnel. Tormund had no reason to stay with you as you watched, but you were glad he did. None of this should have mattered to a man like him, but in his own mind, Jon mattered to him and you mattered to Jon. Which meant you were someone who mattered to Tormund now.

The only other friend you had left was in Theon, but there was betrayal, pain, and blood in that history. At least in Tormund the pain that greeted in less horror and agony then the other.

Neither man said a word as the remains of the fire smouldered and little was left in it to be recognized by any. Uncaring of the remaining heat, you knelt down and gathered a handful of ash and bone left behind in a small pouch keeping it in the same pocket a small paper flower sat as well. The final thing you could do for her, was keep something of Shireen with you for wherever this tormenting life had in mind for you.

She wanted to go with you on grand journeys and you would take her there.

Left alone as the gates closed behind you, you leaned against the back of a wall and looked up to the glow of the moon. The yard mostly empty as scattered men kept their distance and words to themselves. The tears were still fresh, but you did not wipe them away. Let the gods see you cry for the last of those you love they tore away from you.

Maybe they would finally see fit to end such cruelty.

The stars shined bright in that cold. Mocking you for how much the world around you was the same without having a place for you anymore. Like no matter where you searched, no matter what you did or spoke, part of you had been ripped away so deeply that night and you found nothing to heal it. Nothing that gave you purpose and it all felt futile, like more then people you loved had died, but as if you died and the part of you which came back was just like this night.

It looked clear, the skies beautiful and bright but there was nothing within you but the bitter cold in your lungs and a missing purpose. The path to your fathers quarters was hollow. Gently draping the coat over a shelf, and sitting down in the dim room at his desk felt even worse. The letter weighed so heavily in your pocket that taking it out and tossing it’s folded contents onto the desk almost felt like a shift that left you lightheaded. With it you gently laid both the little flower under what was left of her on the desk as well.

“I will cut out your bastard heart and make her watch.”

“Let you freeze to death next to the bastard who loved you so much.”

The voices passing back and forth in the forefront of your mind as your fingers reached up to where you had laid Longclaw out on top. The pommel even in the light of only the window’s moon, the red jem shined against the carving of the wolf. Jeor Mormont had seen so much in him, that he had the bear remade not just into a Direwolf, but into Jon’s Direwolf. Had given him a sword that once his families for five centuries, and then so betrayed by his own son sat with the man for over twenty years.

He had seen something in Jon that had him dedicated to giving it to him, but felt worthless under your own touch. You had earned nothing, but as long as you were here it seemed it was entrusted in your care. The people looked at you in a silent reverence at the person long thought to be dead and all you had done was make decisions you had no way of knowing if they were even decent.

You had never had to lead like this alone. You hadn’t led anything in over a year, and now you were to do it by yourself and maybe it was a test of how incapable you were. A high ranking man of the Night’s Watch executed under your command only a day after their Lord Commander was murdered, who was supposed to take charge of a mantle so few understood.

His closest companions heard enough about you to trust, but you weren’t Jon and you couldn’t be a leader like him. As you ran your fingertips over the carved teeth you felt that twisting in your stomach that had you put any food in it, may have come right back out. But much like since you found yourself awake, you had little desire for anything but a sleep that never ended.

A scratching at the door is what finally grabbed your attention, scratching and whine that you knew could only come from one animal. As you opened it, you were nearly tackled by Ghost who was suddenly far more energetic then he had been since you arrived. Reminding you more of the puppy you left him as then the unusually intense and aggressive demeanour he had all day.

Leaning down slightly you ran a hand over the side of his face as he whined. Turning in place and beckoning you to come with him, and a whine that seemed more urgent then before. Looking to the outside nothing you could see looked dire but you felt an inkling in your stomach that felt more confusing then sickening.

Glancing back inside, you grabbed Longclaw keeping it tight in your grip as your other hand closed the door behind you. “Alright, it’s alright Ghost. Show me what’s wrong.” Your voice was low and steady but your heart pounded as the direwolf led you down to the ground level and over to the one place you didn’t want to be.

Opening the harsh doors, a few stragglers noticed the grimness of the sight and wondered just what the Direwolf was leading you into but the idea hit both them and you. The stairwell into the main halls of the ice cells was just as it was before. Saving itself from a pitch black only from scattered torchlight.

Your steps echoed against the stone as your breath increased in nervous pants the closer you got to where you didn’t wish to see at this moment. But the cell door, was slightly open and you stood frozen beside Ghost. He just look up at you with another whine, your hand gripping the sheath with one hand and the other tightly against the sword’s mantle as you finally walked forward.

You had told them, you’d handle it. You would deal with the consequence of not burning his body and now it seemed as your final punishment you would have to deal with it now. Dreams long passed of bodies raising up with eyes just as blue as the figures in the night you dreamt of, along the cries of infants. You knew the stories, and you knew the threat that had taken over the worries of all this far North.

It was now though that you’d face it for the first time and it couldn’t be towards a worse opponent. But as the slight open door came into your eyes, you could see nothing outright. Pushing it open only enough that it let you slip inside and Ghost behind you, you didn’t notice you had lived this mistake before as a girl. Outside in the training yard of Winterfell and then too, you hadn’t thought of checking corners or watching for what was coming up behind you.

Stepping towards the iron bars which still had yet to be locked, there no longer was anything there to keep guard. And that was the problem. Your eyes widened, and your heart felt painful inside you as you looked to where you knew for sure you had left him but there was no one.

Ghost had walked to the other side of the room, your eyes glancing to meet his red ones with a sharp panic until it swelled into a fear that sent you turning around, your grip on Longclaw loose enough you almost dropped it. The heavy metal door you walked in though, right behind you now, slammed shut with an echoed thud.

Turning in place though, you could see a hand press down on the lock before you met their eyes. Eyes, that weren’t a crystallized blue, but a grey so dark they appeared almost black.

Neither of you spoke a word in that moment, your heart stopped in your chest as your muscles all shook in such a shock it glued you in place. Just as he looked only with colour and life breathed back into him and far less dead, Jon looked at you with as much of an intensity as you felt.

Instinct told you to fight in fear of what was warned to you, but nothing of what was to be seen was found. It wasn’t a standing corpse in front of you, but just an older, more wild Jon Snow as alive as you were. His own eyes were as incapable of staying in once place as yours, but his feet stepped forward towards you.

Both your breathing was heavy as you dared step forward as well and yet still you saw nothing dead in his eyes. Just as full of words and emotions as he always lived in them and they looked over you as your mouth parted open in words that refused to speak outloud.

You didn’t know when you dropped the sword, but it now lay useless on the ground as you and Jon stood so close in front of each other you could feel the warmth he always gave off even in a place so cold as this. A pain in his eyes that almost looked like he would fall apart was too much, but yet your own found the same place that sickened you hours ago.

Your fingers reaching up, and just as they did before, gently pushed the edges of his shirt aside and ran gently over the wound over his heart. Only this time there wasn’t cold under it, but that of a beating heart as your breathing picked up heavier. Trailing down over the others they were as real as they had been before.

Jon’s own hand reached up, causing you to pause but not look away. Pushing the material up and up until his large, calloused hand ran over the just as mortal, deep scar across your stomach until his palm laid almost flat across it. Like he knew exactly what he was looking for and as your head rose up to look at him, there was such a deep seething anger in his eyes as he looked where he was touching.

Finding the others gaze, you searched for something to say, but your heart was so heavy and so flipped around inside you stammered silently as he looked at you the same. Such a silent whisper in your voice yet it felt like it screamed in the small room. “You were....”

His voice sent something running through your veins, something that burned and shivered down every inch of your nerves as you finally heard it. That deep, low rasping husk of a voice that could entrance you, roughly looked at you with his own pain behind it, a hand still on your own scar. “So were you.”

Not another word was let out though, or even a thought for you finished. Only a moment passed between you, before Jon’s hands reached up to cup both of your cheeks.

Taking you by suprise, he pulled you up while he also leaned down to meet, Jon roughly pressed his lips to yours and suddenly that burning turned into an overwhelming scream in your head. A feeling that took over and shoved out every other thought and sense, as you meekly steadied yourself with hands at his waist. His lips were rough with you, demanding but refused to give you any space to breathe before he turned your body himself and you were shoved roughly into the wall beside you.

Jon pressing his own body tight against you as he moved to hold your jaw and keep your kiss as deep as he could while his other hand ran down and in a second, only pulled from you to suddenly yank your shirt up over your head. The cold of the cells striking over your skin as Jon gritted his teeth in a hiss as his eyes trailed over your bare breasts. You looked at him with a need that you hadn’t felt in such a manner in your entire life, folding instantly into him as he roughly kissed you once more.

His hands reaching up and grasping at your breasts, groping tightly and running his thumbs intently over your nipples until he heard you whine against his mouth. You arched into him as your core already burned at the touch, Jon biting at your lip until you gasped. His tongue slipping into your mouth before his hands gripped and teased you more roughly at how easily you explored him back.

Your own hands suddenly reaching up to shakily rip open the rest of his shirt before trying to move against his demanding kiss and intense touch to push it down his shoulders. Jon never breaking the kiss as he helped shove the material off for you. Your hands running freely along his shoulders and chest before wrapping up around his neck and running into his curls.

Jon cupped the back of your head the second you even tried pulling back for air, refusing you any reprieve as he squeezed every inch of skin his other hand ran along. Kissing deep and increasing in demand as your breaths turned to moans gifted right into his own mouth.

Touch leaving you, Jon ran his hands down until he reached your pants and just as he pulled from your lips, both of you matching in growing red, swollen from his roughness and panting in desperation, he suddenly knelt down. Yanking the material straight down and off your legs. All but throwing your boots to the side and leaving you bare for him in the freezing cold.

You didn’t even consider the scars and horrid marks so blatantly left on the inside of your thighs, as before you could say anything Jon didn’t come back to your lips. Stayed knelt on the ground before pulling your legs as far apart as he could. Gripping your hips to pull you to him, and in a second of confusion for you it was soon replaced with a gasp of his name.

This..you didn’t know about what this is. Had no idea what he was doing but Jon’s mouth leaned up to run along between your legs. His mouth was hot and his tongue licked along your folds up to your clit that had you arch against the stone and hands pressing harder into it as you shook. Jon kept his mouth against your cunt like a true wolf starved from the world as he gripped your hips tightly. Refusing to let you escape him, his tongue ran across your clit before sucking slightly at the tiny bundle, making you jump and cry out his name.

You couldn’t contemplate what Jon was even doing to you, as any slight hint of you trying to pull away from something boiling fast inside of you he yanked you back to him tighter. You knew you were just soaking him from how easily you grew wetter and wetter and it mixed with his tongue running flat along your folds before you cried more.

His hands having pulled you wider open for him, and his tongue reaching to lick inside of you as you stuttered out gasps with no way to speak. Only letting you go long enough to snatch a hand of yours he guided it to run through his hair, and the second you let your nails scratch along his scalp Jon shook against you. The vibrations of his growl against your cunt soaked him more as it spiked a screeching and burning pleasure inside of you. His facial hair burned against your skin, making you desperate enough to want to beg for mercy.

Just as he refused for your lips, he never allowed himself a second to tear way from licking into you as if he could sense every single angle and manner which brought the most moans from you. Truly a wolf that had been starved for weeks and finding something worth dying for between your legs.

Your orgasm passed through you without any warning, you tensed in his hold and hand grasping his curls tighter as he shoved you hard against the wall and ran his tongue across your folds, inside as it pressed along something gaspingly sensitive and back up to your clit. Your core snapped and you begged with nothing but pleas of his name that made him groan and growl into you more.

But he didn’t give you a second’s reprieve. He seemed to lick every sound of wetness between your legs and now the pressure build to the point you almost started to panic. Jon’s grip too strong as he licked so much inside you that he found every way to tune you like an instrument until tears slipped from the corners of your eyes.

Both hands dug into his hair as he pushed you into the wall more and almost forced you to hover just barley on your toes with hands braced against your inner thighs. Letting him press his mouth against you entirely as he dragged you right from one orgasm into another as he refused to let go until he tasted every bit of what you soaked him with.

As your legs shook in his hold, Jon finally pulled away. Rising up with one hand gripping your jaw to tilt you up to his mouth, the other made quick work at tossing off his own pants. Your hands gripping his shoulders as he purposely kissed you with a sloppiness that forced you to taste what heavy wetness you left on his tongue as he ran over yours.

Barley leaving your lips as he moved enough to kick what was left of his own clothes somewhere behind him before tilting your head more up to his mercy, words brushing against your lips that pulled a whine from you, “I love the way you taste.” Before kissing you again and pressing his body tight against you into the wall.

His cock was as hard as the stone scratching at your back. Jon’s hands unable to choose where to stay on as he let himself grind into you, his cock slipping between your legs to move along your entrance.

You writhed into him back as Jon once more returned to his determined goal of keeping your lips pressed against his. As your hands reached behind his neck, Jon suddenly shifted, hoisting you up by your thighs as you kept them partially wrapped around his waist as he held you in his arms against the wall.

This was not the hesitant almost of years ago. As soon as you felt the tip of Jon’s cock press against your clit, he slid along you and with the wetness you soaked his mouth with and how much his own saliva soaked you, there was no resistance.

You cried so loudly into his kiss at the burn. One single push inside you and you could truly feel how long he was and how almost too thick his cock was to handle, how stretched you open for him. You shook in his arms but Jon never wavered in holding you. Letting himself slide as deep as he could inside of you without pause.

He wasn’t fast and impatient, instead keeping you so close to him as he pulled his cock slowly out of you to the tip before slowly once more sliding right back as deep as possible. Your head slammed against the wall behind you as you whined and Jon’s face fell into your neck as you felt him bearing his teeth in deep pants of his own.

His cock was slow as he slid it in and out of you, but just enough to have you feel delirious should he let you go now. Even in this cold, sweat begun to run lightly across both your bodies as he pulled his face up to look into yours.

His eyes black and lips swollen and parted before a particularly deep thrust had his eyes shut and teeth grit together in a hiss. You couldn’t see, feel, or think of anything but Jon like he consumed every inch of your soul as he fucked you.

Just as before, it started out of nowhere but this time your walls soaked his cock, clenching so tight around him Jon’s groans turned to deep growls as he had to fuck up into you harder to slide his cock as deep as he could everytime. Your foreheads pressed together as tears fell freely from your eyes and you could barley breathe but he kissed you everytime you were sure you could handle his fucking and stole you right back to being so out of breathe you held him tighter as the dizziness set in.

Sliding so smoothly in and out of you with such slow and deep strokes against a sensitive wall inside you, Jon’s breathing begun to stutter himself before kissing you again and licking inside your mouth just as his tongue did inside of you and in the same slow overtaking lack of mercy which your orgasm snapped, burning as it spiralled in from his touch.

You grasped onto him so tightly as you tried to cry into his mouth but he stole every breathe and word as he kissed and fucked you slowly through it. His cock pushing up into you with slightly harder thrusts until he pressed against you so tightly you felt only his lips, cock and his chest and none of the world existed beyond that.

Jon shook in your touch, his cock throbbing deep inside you before holding your lips to his with a hand at the back of your head. His cum was warm, unusually warm. One arm still holding you up, as he had you pressed tightly against the wall, Jon forced the leg he held onto, to widen as much as he could make you, as his cock spilled inside you. His cum was also thick, you could feel it was so thick that it matched the almost painful way his cock so largely filled you. But it was a lot, enough of him filled you that it tried to slip down your legs but he stretched so tightly it could only stay deep inside you.

As he slowly fucked the rest of his seed into you, you could feel he was still hard. In an instant your world spun, as he turned you around and pressed you hard into the cold ground. Your legs still spread wide as he pushed them far as they could go, and he looked over you with a need in his eyes as you had in yours. The greyness almost glistening as his chest heaved, your eyes looking over the stab wounds as his found the deep scar on you.

You had seen most of him before, but not like this. His cock was long, and like his seed, he was thick enough it intimidated you even now and making you shudder, clenching around nothing, the sight of it soaked from you and tinted white from his own cum still inside you. Jon gripped his thick base and pushed himself back as deep as he could inside of you. The mix of his cum and yours making the sound almost shameful at how wet it was.

Your muscles all tensed at the large push inside you, his cock running firmly along your sensitive walls as you cried out. Jon’s eyes flew down to where you were joined, watching him slide deep inside of you before his hand rose, pressing against the scar and pushing down firmly that made you jump with a spark of wild desire before slipping to hold your hip.

His other hand tightly gripping your hair before moving to lean down and kiss you once more as this time, he fucked you a little faster, but with much harder thrusts. The force used made his skin slap loudly against yours and you gripped his hair tightly while against his lips.

He pulled away, almost lovingly raking through the back of your hair as his own dark curls brushed against your skin, your jaw and neck was red from how much his facial hair scratched raw against your skin just as it burned still between your legs.

Jon hovered over your lips, his cock never stopped his pace as he fucked into you rough and just less then fast enough that it made you clench so tightly around him he needed to pound harder just to stay so deep inside. His voice rough, and his northern accent so thick it slurred. “You’re so beautiful,”

You gasped as he was pulling you to another orgasm, this time it would be much more powerful as you felt his cock so deep and the sound of his skin against yours with a rough slap each time but soaking wet to the obscene. You pressed your forehead against his as you lost everything that wasn’t his touch, his voice, anything that wasn’t Jon fell away.

Voice wavering as tears fell freely from the mix of pleasure so overwhelming that his cock almost made your cunt burn in pain but you craved every second. “I missed you, gods, Jon I’m sorry I-”

His lips shushing you between more gentle kisses that did not match his cock’s pounding, how tightly his one hand gripped your hip to force you to take his rough pace. “Shh, shh, I’ve got you, darling, I know. I missed you so much,”

Jon could feel the pressure around his cock growing and he knew you were losing it, shifting you to hold your head into his neck as he buried his face into your hair as he fucked you a little faster with every passing second. Low murmurs into your ear of how he missed you, how he was the sorry one, how beautiful you felt and just as you clenched tightly around him you arched up with a true sob.

Something inside you burst around his cock and you knew you were truly soaking him but it felt as if you were underwater and nothing around in the water did anything but drown you in a pleasure that burned in agony through it’s orgasm.

Your nails with a mind of their own in desperation, clawed down his back as he groaned into you. His cock thrusting shallow but deep as he left the rough pace and shamelessly sped towards filling you once more. A trail of two sets of nails raked across his back bright and red but you were covered in bruises that fit his hand and mouth perfectly as he pushed back your soaking orgasm to his.

Jon came much more that time, spilling inside you deep and the slick wetness around his cock and filling you with his warm, thick seed as his hips never stopped until there was nothing left. For a moment, you both held the other, panting with something close to tears even in his own eyes but you were too far gone to comprehend.

Pulling out of you, you whined against Jon but he kissed you gently. Turning you slowly to press your back against his chest as you tumbled into him. His arms tight around you as you muttered distressingly, “I can’t, I’ll wake up and you won’t..” But while your eyes shut and voice mumbled, Jon nuzzled the back of your head.

“Sleep, darling. I’ll be here, I promise.”

Something in Jon’s mind almost worried this wasn’t real as much as you did while falling asleep finally, but he also knew something more. He knew he had watched you through Ghosts eyes, lived as the very direwolf that sat in the corner almost keeping guard of you two. If he knew that was real, then Jon could finally let himself actually sleep for once assuring this was real too.

He could feel the heart beneath his wounded chest slow against your back and he felt the deep scar across your stomach as he too finally fell asleep. Something inside him was feeling like yours, something that looked to the other and felt consumed by their presence.

Something about finding you again, that had Jon feel like a true wolf. Risking going rabid and crazed if he let you slip from him this time. When his eyes slid open to the room, with Ghost at his side as he finally felt his mind properly settle, suddenly all he could think of was finding you. Desperately sending his companion out to bring you here as he felt like a mad man at finding himself truly back in his own once murdered body.

But then you walked in, and that wolf snapped. If direwolves mated for life, Jon couldn’t really know, but he did know as he fell asleep finally, that this wolf certainly did. Ramsay Bolton’s manic letter had accused Jon of stealing you, “Give me my bride back.” It had said.

You weren't his bride, you weren’t Ramsay’s and you never would be. As soon as Jon woke back up in his true body, something inside him couldn’t stop the nagging question. Why did it feel like you were the one who brought him back? Why was he consumed in his new life with you, but he also wondered if you somehow were feeling the same.

Eventually, you both would have to face everyone. Walk up those steps and they would see the impossible before them. The time could come where those remaining would see the remains of a murder walking on two feet, those who watched the crime and those who mourned but none expected Jon the way he was now.

But right now, you both struggled to bring yourselves to walk into that realization. Partially dressed, Jon’s back was leaned against the wall as he kept you perched in his lap. Neither with a shirt on as both of you ran your hands over the scars of the other. Both trying to find an explanation in the other but Jon was persistent. “No one survives something like this.” You tried to argue but your name slipped firmly from Jon’s mouth as his eyes narrowed up at you on his lap. “I saw it, I saw you. You were dead.”

It made sense in your heart but not your mind. “That isn’t...it’s not possible-”

His touch was soft as his hands shifted to your waist, yours gently resting on his shoulders while he leaned his head back onto the stone to look up. “It’s not possible to survive these either.” Nodding down to his chest, your eyes narrowed with your face twisting harshly as you ran your palm flat against them. They felt like yours. Not quite healed, but not scarred either. Like they just existed without being part of your living body. The wounds like they were dead but everything around it alive underneath.

Jon watched you for a moment, his voice low as he spoke again. “Maybe these dreams, these visions I’ve been having. Maybe they were trying to tell me to find you, protect you before..” You both swallowed. You couldn’t talk about that now, neither knew when you should. You watched his eyes soften as you ran a hand gently over his jaw, the coarse facial hair scratching your skin before they moved to gently run along the length of his curls. “Whatever brought me back, we might need to consider it that it brought you back too.”

You bit your tongue as the nerves rose but instantly Jon leaned up, pulling you to press his lips to yours gently, trying to soothe those nerves instead of letting them fester. He still knew you far too well. You swallowed harshly as your mind ran too fast in too many directions, “So, the gods what? Keep me alive just so I could come here? See you dead just long enough to think I’ve lost everyone?”

He hummed, unable to stop his hands from running along your skin as long as he was this close. In truth neither of you understood enough to say what this was. All was known that Jon felt a bit different in this new life. Like something more dark and possessive lived inside of him and he was consumed with you until he had you in his arms. He felt as if he was going to lose his mind in the time between sending Ghost to find you and seeing you step into that cell.

Even now, he took you twice in the early seconds he woke up. Your breasts currently littered in marks from his teeth and bruises from his mouth, he had yanked you up onto his lap as he desperately bounced you rough on his cock, him sitting up and burying his face into your chest smothering the growls in him. Barley awake compared to him, you were at his mercy, his cock fucking up into you as hard as Jon’s grip on your hips moving you himself to fuck you down onto him, letting him take you in whatever demand he wanted. Pushing past both your first orgasms without ever stopping to let you come down.

He was a man possessed, something terribly animalistic in his heart as he felt a screaming, dark desire to spill deep inside you, to fill you up again as soon as he did the first time. You, yourself had felt as if you were burning up on the inside until he was inside you again. Like something was deeply tethering you to him.

The feelings were calm, much calmer now but there remained something between you that was difficult to explain. Like in your new life, you only found purpose after seeing the other again but for Jon it just took far less time and torture to get there. You knew he was angry, wanting to demand everything that happened to you, but it wasn’t the time for it.

His own clothes back on, Jon was before you helping put your own shirt back on neatly as he tilted your chin up to look at him. Gods help him Jon was about two seconds away from just pushing you back onto the ground and taking you all over again, but the dark look in your eyes was focused on something else as you pulled away, reaching down to hand him Longclaw.

Both of you held onto it for a second as he watched you closely, “Out of all the ways for things to end between me and him, it’s hard to believe it was you of all people who did it.” Your eyes wide as they looked at Jon asking how he knew but Ghost had walked over to nudge at Jon. Smiling at him while strapping it back around his person, “I could see things through Ghost...or was controlling him. It’s hard to explain but it was like as soon as I died I could see and move through him.”

A whine coming from Ghost had him kneel down, running a hand along his fur as the two looked at one another. You were to afraid to bring it up yet, like saying his name would destroy whatever had been created in this little, dark room together but you think you understood it. You had watched a strange almost abnormal ability to control a direwolf before.

“Wish I could say I’m glad he’s gone but at least that part of my humanity came back with me.” He knew about Ser Alliser Thorne, he knew it wasn’t vengeance but justice you were seeking for him. “If yesterday didn’t scare the others into making up themselves for what they’ve done-”

“Then seeing you now sure will.” Looking up to you with a more serious look, Jon stood back up and pulled you into his arms for a moment. Only for a moment, as quite quickly, you both were nudged in the legs by Ghost, causing you both to turn to him with a laugh. “At least one thing does make sense to me. If you were somehow living inside Ghost, it would explain why he was so..intense and aggressive yesterday but far more of a large pup now that I remember”

Jon held you one hand gently at your jaw, the other your waist as he looked back to you, waiting for you to meet his eyes before you both felt the air turn much more heavy and tense. “You told them today is a fresh start.” You nodded slowly, a hope that it didn’t make him mad but his expression never changed. “Why?”

Your hands struggled to land on him, much like that night in Winterfell like despite the closeness seconds before you were now afraid to touch him. “Everything they said, about the North, about the Others. I spent over four years with a war and it’s aftermath having dreams and visions of what was happening but I didn’t understand any of it. But...now I do, and I think even the men who betrayed you need a chance to realize that was well.”

Jon watched you closely, his voice low but assuring. “Then we give them that chance.” Almost leaving for a second, Jon hesitated before pulling you back with a gentle call of your name, “Theon...”

You shook your head firmly, a stern look with no room for question. “He’s paid for what he did. He’s paid the cost and then far more then what he deserved. And he’s the only reason I made it out of Winterfell alive. He’s with me and right now I would leave it at that.”

The relief in you as Jon never doubted your word, giving a nod. “I won’t pressure you, but eventually I am going to need you to tell me what happened. What he did to you.” He, you both knew, meant Ramsay. “Not right now, but we can’t avoid him forever and I need to hear what he did from your mouth, because if I have to hear it from his, I may not end up letting him even finish a sentence.” His hands tightened on you, before you finally reached up to run along where his scars behind the black shirt sat under.

He would. You knew it. Ramsay loved to use information as torment in and of itself, and that letter...either Jon finds Ramsay first or he brings himself and the rest of the Boltons men here. But he’ll mock him with every torture his words can summon, it was just his cruel nature at work.

Was it fair to assume the worst? Some considered it so. You had followed Ghost to the Ice Cells in the dead of night and quite some time had passed and none had seen you. They all knew what was down there by now, and all of them feared what the worst might mean.

Ser Davos Seaworth had shared a moment with the large wildling, Tormund. Discussing that they may need to begin forming plans for the worst, knowing now that there were bigger threats on the horizon and the remaining wildings and Night’s Watch could not just stand by and wait for whatever threat to attack from one side of the other.

Jon Snow’s last stand had been the choice to fight for not just the North he now guarded, but the North that was his home, the North that the woman he loved was trapped within. He had made it known he considered those beyond the wall to belong to the realms of men, and now he had remembered truly that his duty was to those south of it as well.

He had died for that conviction, and if that damned letter was right, without King Stannis Baratheon now they had to face the idea that you too might not come back alive from the cells if it had been this long. Tormund had said it was by nightfall most men turned to the blue eyes of the dead, and that the only things he’d ever seen kill them were fire, and that sword of Jon’s.

Some said you brought it with you, others weren’t sure. If not, and if you couldn’t grab a torch in time, they were going to have to find a way to continue this on their own and they didn’t like their chances.

Only, they didn’t have too.

The large pure white direwolf emerged first. Thick metal doors opening as he walked out onto the yard first, and caught many eyes. But, what followed Ghost was enough that every person in Castle Black stopped and watched. You were still you, but you also walked beside a figure that they had seen dead the day before.

He looked exactly as he did before, scars still on his face red from their freshness, Longclaw strapped to his side as it truly belonged, and even more striking, eyes just as grey as they were before that night. No blue, no sigh of death, no fear from you except the dark looks on both your expressions as the men all gathered close.

Whispers begun right away. The North’s previously thought dead Queen, had disappeared in the dark of night and reemerged hours later with the once dead Jon Snow alive by her side. Davos had seen the body himself, but there was no sigh of the dead to fear in the man. Just the man himself, and you.

You were in rough shape the morning the Greyjoy had brought you here, but you were darker, angrier, and missing part of the life he knew in you as a girl that he wondered would ever come back. You refused to speak on what happened at The Twins, refused to speak on the whispers of you being dead and only said “As you can see, I certainly am alive right now.”

But he saw Jon Snow dead, and the ones who hadn’t, either murdered him, watched him be murdered or had the trusting word of his closest companions and the woman he died for. But here he was, speaking to his men as much of a leader as he saw before.

Davos tried not to look to where he knew the red woman to be. He had no idea what you could have done to bring this man back, but knew he did not want her of all people having any place in what was to come. In any of it. But as Jon stood on even ground as his own men, you stood beside him as your eyes blazed in a mistrusting rage towards the same woman Davos was ignoring.

Edd and Tormund both walked closer to the pair, sharing looks of bewilderment at the other. Both had seen things they never in a lifetime thought would be true, but this was something else. This was a dead man standing before them but not in the same horror’s Tormund and Jon himself had witnessed at Hardhome.

He had found a lot to admire over the past few years of the crow, and over the past few months in particular stood out. Never would’ve thought possible, but somehow he both admired the man more after watching him lead the crows to defeat the free folk. Somehow found himself being the man doing the growing and changing afterwards.

He had heard him talk about you once they finally found common ground that day in his office. To Tormund, it seemed a bit stupid. You were in love with the girl first, you snuck around for six years with her and then you let your fathers make her marry your brother and you go off and vow yourself to the crows instead of fighting for her. He could not understand either of you, but now looking at the two of you he knew no other explanation then somehow you found a way to bring him back from the dead.

That is some power between you two only gods are supposed to have, if you asked him.

As he spoke, the same deep rasping voice came out, but a tinge rougher with more of an anger behind the words. A darker tint floated around Jon Snow, and it would never quite go away, but no question, those who knew you before could also could see it in yourself as well.

“Most of you should know, two night’s ago twelve of our own took it upon themselves to betray a brother. Lured me out alone, cornered me, and stabbed me in the chest and heart. Then threw me into an ice cell thinking they could get away with it if they hide the evidence.”

A glance up from where you stood beside him, you could see Olly pale and full of a shocked kind of fear in his eyes. A look that was shared by a number of others who had seen it themselves first hand. The boy had your word, but the same would not be found for others.

“Nine of you came forward yourselves, admitted your part. Except three.” Drawing attention to you, the way the eyes watched you both was far easier then yesterday doing it on your own. “Ser Alliser Thorne planned and carried out my own murder, and then paid the price for his crimes, but two of you didn’t. Two men who once stood by my side as Lord Commander.”

The yard quiet as this time, you had already named them front of everyone the day before but still, they found no courage to step forward until this time, the one who named them was the brother they killed.

“Othell Yarwyck, Bowen Marsh.”

There was quiet until a path begun to turn, men shifting in place to draw all attention on the two older men so white they just may have passed out if not for the bitter cold keeping them alert. There was no need for yesterday’s demands, and this time, it was Jon who saw men that once voted against him force the two to come to his feet. Shoved onto the ground as they looked up at him.

You promised a fresh start, but for those who confessed before you did it for them. You executed the man who did this to him, but Jon knew better then anyone both of them had shoved their knifes into his chest and watched him bleed out. And never had the courage to speak up when confronted.

Jon would stand by your decision for the others, but you would stand by his decision for the two of them. “This fight is bigger then us, bigger then our disagreements, bigger then our vows. I’m not leading these men to fight for nothing but the wall.” His face twisted slightly, tone almost irritated that some of them hadn’t understood the grander image yet. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that there’s no room in our vows that means protecting the North, the whole North, or the people we love in it.”

The men found nothing in glancing at you. It wasn’t you they betrayed, and it wasn’t them they were to answer too. Their eyes tearing up to Jon’s in hesitancy, neither finding the bravery to speak. Voices that did speak up were men scattered in the crowd, perking up from different points and picking up in fervour. Words of “murderers”, “dirty traitors” all the way up to “hang them” as still the men found no courage to truly face the man they ended.

It was Edd who stepped forward enough to capture attention, something barley held back in his expression of awe and relief. “What is to be done with them, Lord Commander?” A point in his voice, make sure any possible descender know, he is still in charge, he is still the leader they chose.

Stepping closer to them, Jon’s eyes narrowed sharply as he found more anger in his disgust at their cowardice. His head nodded back to your distant stillness, “She was kind enough to show you mercy.” His grey eyes bordering on a black as his tone lowered to something rough that made them shiver. “But I’m not. You have until sundown to make peace with yourselves.”

Multiple men stepped forward, dragging the remaining two men to be tossed away. For a moment, there was a tense quiet as they all looked to their somehow undead leader, and bless Edd for stepping forward first to break such still heavy air.

The two friends hugged, and the gates opened to the rest of them approaching their brother, and the scattered wildlings joining too.

You could recall the day you left Winterfell. Hearing behind where you stood Jon and Robb saying their goodbyes and how wrong it felt to accidentally intrude on it, the same felt deep in you now. Stepping back slowly as men all approached Jon before something in the pit of your stomach needed to walk away entirely. These were his people, not yours. You still didn’t belong here.

You weren’t quite sure where you were even headed at all until reaching far into part of a dining hall, dim and empty as the mass of men were outside. You could feel your heart pounding but nothing to explain why or even the senses to tell yourself to breathe. It was as if the world was dizzy and your chest ready to burst open as your palms braced on a counter. Your eyes shut as you leaned over hearing the blood rushing in your ears.

It all felt too much all in one instance. The strings, the blood, the warm blue eyes turning to terrifying pale ones, all swirling into bodies and fire and her and him and all of them as the night before screamed in your head and deafening you until a gentle hand found it’s way to your upper arm.

Flipping around with a desperate gasp of air you found Theon flinched back slightly, for only a second did you try and tell him not to sneak up on you but you only felt the world fade and twist in colour before slinking to the ground. Your back pressed against the counter as Theon slowly knelt in front of you. “What can I do?” His voice quiet but a concerned plead as you felt like the world spun in your mind.

You shook your head almost choking on the words of not knowing, eyes stinging with water trapped behind them until an old trick came to Theon’s mind. Stepping away from you you heard thuds and shuffling but you could only hear a mixture of voices. Voices of Jon, of Robb, of Shireen, of your father and the mocking words of Melisendre that day in the Westlands.

Heart stopping yet racing all at once until Theon returned with a large mug shoving it into your hand and just moving you to drink. “Come on, all of it, let’s go.” Ale rich and bitter but you let it sink down as you slammed it on the ground before letting your head fall against the wood. The world still spinning as your eyes remained closed but it all eased up as Theon spoke. “You alright?”

Taking a deep breathe before nodding, you moved your feet to sit flat on the floor knees closer to your chest as your head dropped into your folding arms. You felt Theon shift to sit next to you, it was never often him all those years ago that would see spirals of panic this way but he’d seen them once or twice enough to recall what they looked like. And the memory of having you down something alcoholic to simmer it out or maybe just to distract you for a moment still worked luckily.

Voices spoke muffled in the distant outdoors before you finally felt your heart grant your feet back on the earth and mind lifting such haze. Your arms remained folded against your knees but you raised back up as he could see you wipe back whatever tears fell with the back of your hand, frustrated furrow of your brows that they even fell in the first place.

He leaned over quietly, as if hiding with a whisper in the empty room of your name, dropping any formalities or titles in the moment, knowing right now you just needed a friend. “What the hell happened?”

You looked forward at a spot on the floor, a shrug in your shoulders with a weak voice. “I don’t know, I have no idea what I had done. He was dead one moment and alive the next. I...” You didn’t know how to say it, you didn’t want to even think of that night not the blood not the fire or the strings or the chanting but something about last night felt true as you spoke. Voice meek like a confused child, “I don’t think he’s the only one.”

Theon’s brows furrowed, but you couldn’t look at him as you spoke. “Something’s been so wrong with me since that night, something inside me felt so twisted and missing like I never really survived. As if I’ve been walking around barley alive until last night, and now it’s all right here and it’s too much at once but...” Finally, you looked at him.

A far away concern in his eyes that you knew wasn’t judgment, but just not understanding. You didn’t expect him too, you think only person in the realm will understand it now. “I died that night, Theon. I know I did, I felt it...I died beside him. But it never felt like I woke up until..”

“Until he did?” His head gesturing outside vaugley as you nodded. “Could be why you came back. You couldn’t stay dead because you needed to be here to bring him back.”

You shook your head, letting it thud back behind you once more. “Given this a lot of thought, Greyjoy?”

The smile wasn’t really genuine, but the light tone in your voice that accompanied it gave a little perk to him, as if for a second it was just the two of you years ago. Teenagers in Winterfell that snuck into the kitchens to have a drink way passed when anyone was supposed to be awake. “One of us should.”

He nudged your arm, you nudged his back. The panic and tears were still staining your face and soul but in the quiet it was a tad easier to swallow down. “What is it the Drowned God speaks of? What is dead may never die?” You looked at him with an unconvincing half smile. “What does he say about those who bring a man back to life?”

Reaching beside him, he dragged a mug of ale back over to you with a second for him. Nudging you to take a sip. “Nothing. Think it might just be you two.” For a moment it was quiet before he asked “Do you think he’s lying about your father? Ramsay?”

Biting you lip harshly before you took another sip, “I couldn’t say. He’s a commander, an excellent one. But I’ve seen more then enough commanders take knives to their hearts to feel any kind of optimistic about it anymore.” The ale was bitter, but Theon was right, it helped bring you down a little bit even if it was the sake of distracting your mind. “If he isn’t, he died thinking I hated him. If he is, then he will hate me anyways.” His eyes narrowed in confusion as your heart felt heavy. “The wrong daughter came back.”

A fleeting wish in Theon that maybe those thoughts had found their way out of your mind, but in the quiet of the room you still voiced the same. His head dropped, face twisting downward. “You’re still his kid. No parent wants to outlive their kids.”

In the quiet of the room, your head tilted slightly to the side, almost resting on him if only just a few inches closer. “What about you? You’re here when you could be making your way back to Pyke instead of being with me still. Your father would want to know you made it out of Winterfell alive.”

His heart in that moment felt far away, much like your own. “My real father lost his head in King’s Landing.”

Little seemed to change, the outside was different, the people not as cruel and the circumstances to get here were something of chaos, but in here it was the same as back there. You and Theon still held this strange dynamic, a bond that was rooted in feeling out of place in the world amongst your own people and your own blood. Your voice was just as quiet. “Some days I wonder if mine did too.”

You had to guess where he may be, though logic ended up telling you to search your quarters. A strange place to look for him, if considering what his position really is here. Your fathers quarters just as cold and dim as the way you left it the night before. No sign of life beyond you and Theon as you walked in but your eyes remained sharp. You had a feeling he was in here, but you weren’t with such energy to hunt.

Coming around to the desk, you ran your hand over the leather of the grey overcoat hanging across it you barley paid attention to before. Grasping it gently in your hand as you pulled it up, you could see it on him. Not magnificent of a wardrobe, much of similar things but they all were very striking of your father’s appearance.

Looking up you caught Theon watching, both of you turning away in an instant. You swallowed as you nodded over to the table near the back. The things on there clearly that of a young girl, “Could you..”

You turned away as he walked over to take them out of your view. Eyes drifting to the window up to the clouds of the winter day as you tugged the leather over your person. Too large to do up, without swallowing you, you kept it open and at least felt the leather warm you the slightest bit more then the only soft material under it before.

The first of papers on one side containing raven scrolls large and small, papers with too many numbers and listing details to count. One in particular still catching your eye, words you read and reread far too often and yet even now you felt just as awful thinking of it’s contents as before. Fingers tracing over it’s edges before a shifting across the room and a startle from Theon had you stand up suddenly.

“Seven hells, what are you doing hiding in here?”

Stepping around, Theon looked startled but annoyed as he looked at the now exposed Olly hiding in a corner. His face pale and hands shaking that fear you saw in him yesterday at that very desk back with a much larger looming fear. “He was dead, I stabbed him I know he was dead.”

Your jaw set, tilting your head slightly to Theon to continue on you stepped towards the boy, a hand outstretched. Pushing him lightly forward from his back as you led him back to the main room. Away from where you couldn’t handle being around Shireen’s things. Sitting back at the desk, you leaned against it to face him.

“What did you do?”

Your face still and unblinking for a moment before you came to an honest answer. “Maybe I didn’t do anything. The gods may have just decided he wasn’t supposed to die and made it so.” Your brows narrowed as he looked distant in his gaze. “Olly-”

“He’s going to hang me too.” You sighed, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I put a knife in his heart, if he sees me, he’ll hang me.” Opening your eyes you shared a flicker of your eyes with Theon, almost as if asking each other if you thought it was a possibility. But you couldn’t, it seemed like a different person who would do such a thing.

Olly’s circumstances didn’t make what he did to Jon any more acceptable, but there were unavoidable truths in his age and what drove him here to take in account. Executing adults is part of being a just leader, but children was...

“Do you know where Riverrun is?” Both looked at you confused only getting an eyebrow raised back to him until Olly nodded yes. “Our army was garrisoned there near the end of the war. River Lords had attacked Lannister forces without our knowledge and they took two teenage boys hostages. Not much older then you.”

Theon didn’t know any of this either, leaning against the wall to watch as you yourself turned further away for a moment. “I spoke to them, gained their trust, gave them food and water. They were prisoners, but they were still boys who weren’t the ones responsible for the war. They were good kids, really. Then in the middle of the night, five of our own men dragged them from their cell and murdered them just for being kids of the enemy.”

You could see them, the way they were laid out in the hall that night and the tension so thick in that room that radiated fury. If you let yourself, you could still hear Robb yell that they were just boys.

“The King had four of them hanged, took the head of the one who planned it himself.” Crouching down to look at him closely you could still see how young he really was. “We executed five of our own men, and lost the support of one of our own bannermen’s houses as a result of that execution. And we did it because they were grown men who murdered two boys your age. We did it because they were under our protection and murdering them was treason.”

“Kill me and be cursed.”

Push the thought from your mind, push it all back. You couldn’t. Not now, maybe not ever. Exhaling deeply you leaned in more to make Olly meet your eyes. “Some might argue it’s justice the other way around. But I don’t see it that way. Sometimes...” Both men in the room watched you look over to Theon. “Sometimes what we think is justice leads to things which are far worse.”

He had many things to hate you for in your life after him, but you couldn’t imagine executing a thirteen year old boy would be something wherever he was, he would look at you any more favourably for. If indeed, there was anything left he’d be even remotely alright with. Not now, not after last night.

“But you are going to have to face him. You can’t avoid that, and you shouldn’t. The last thing you should do right now is hide from him. You came to me yesterday, told me the truth all of your own choice. Don’t make him have to come to you.”

So why were you up here hiding from Jon as well? After everything why was it you still felt that lingering dread that he wouldn’t want anything to do with you? Unable to tell if it was the worry of disappointing just one more person with who you’ve become, or the pit deep within you of guilt at how desperately attached you felt last night.

Leaning forward so his forearms rested against his knees he looked down before finding your eyes, a doubt of his own painted across. “Why are you helping me? After everything I did, you cut off Thorne’s head when he confessed.”

Circling around you placed yourself back behind your fathers desk, fingers tapping at the wood before settling. “I have a soft spot for giving those who have wronged the people I love, another chance at life, you could say.” Flickering slightly to the side, you didn’t properly look at Theon but you both could sense the other’s gaze. Two years ago you nor Robb wanted anything but bring him down from the North and take his head but now you wouldn’t want the man going anywhere else.

Pausing you leaned forward, hands clasped together. “I betrayed my own father.” Olly’s eyes rising to you in confusion, you nodded to the desk. “Stannis Baratheon was my father, I was his eldest daughter and he raised me to be his heir. Gave me a proper education, let me spend many years in Winterfell and Kings Landing to learn as he was, and then the Lannisters took Ned Stark’s head.”

This time you purposely didn’t look at Theon, you never spoke of it, but the day you all found out you had visited Theon in his tent. Things everywhere were thrown around and a few bottles were smashed on the ground. Nothing truly had been right since that day.

“Everyone expected me to go to his side. Join my father, the rightful King and fight for his claim, but instead I sided with Robb Stark. I sided with the man I married and when they declared him King in the North my own father declared me a traitor.” His eyes dropped a bit, Olly being from the North himself had long heard of the two of you. “I cannot deny what I did, I was a traitor to him. What I am saying is, we all do bad things. We all do things many consider horrible or monstrous, but it’s what pushes us to those circumstances that matters when facing judgment.”

A knock at the door had all three of you raising your heads up, Olly looking from the door to you with a barley concealed panic as Theon went to open it. First only Ser Davos walking in causing no alarm until it was the one who came behind him that made two hearts jump for very different reasons. Having changed into something without the traces of his own blood, and black fur around his shoulders that made him look large and imposing.

Instantly you gestured for Olly to come around the desk to stand behind you, doing so with a jump as you could see him try to remain steady. His grey eyes unblinking as he moved to stand beside Ser Davos on the shame filled yet terrified ones of the boy.

Jon wouldn’t go against your choice, he understood it likely better then you. He knew what Olly had come from, and he knew too well that putting his anger on the boy would be misplacing the ones who knew what they were really agreeing too. He could still recall having that final knife shoved into his heart, but he also could see the confused, angry pain in the tears in the boys as he did so.

As you sat there, it was an odd feeling for him. He once could recognize Stannis Baratheon without ever being introduced his name because of how much he could see you in the man. Now though, it was as if he could see Stannis in you as if he didn’t know you first. You had left in the noise earlier and now looked at him with something very held up, very guarded in your eyes that he didn’t like.

Something about his connection with Ghost had him once wondering if this strange phenomena was what being a warg was, and then his spent over a day in his direwolf’s body and consciousness when he finally found you again. Too much of the day now he had been torn between the nature of his new life, and how something deep within him knew it was through you that he could stand here now. The other was burning and obsessive being able to touch you in ways he for too long thought was a dead gone dream.

But then you sat there, looking at him like you weren’t sure if you wanted to be here trying to put that wall up he knew came from Stannis himself. Only his wasn’t a wall, just his nature and with you it was hiding you away from everyone else. Jon wondered, did you realize how well he still knew you, did you even know yourself anymore. His voice was rough and low as he spoke, “It’s time.”

He didn’t need to ask he knew you would join no matter what you were trying to ignore. You glanced to Theon, indicating something with a more narrowed glance before the man left with the quickly joining him out the door with Olly as Ser Davos followed in a thoughtful silence, the sounds of distant shouting and footsteps heard in the distance. Looking at each other for a moment, Jon turned and closed it completely shutting the world out. Gloved hand still on the wood as he faced away from you, his eyes shut as he inhale deeply.

“They all think you had something to do with bringing me back. And I don’t think they’re wrong.”

Turning back to you, your eyes were set to the floor with something that he could feel the sting sitting just behind them. Only a mutter left in it, “I can feel it. As if it’s screaming at me like I’ve found any kind of a purpose, for the first time since...” Your words died right in your mouth and it only left you more uncomfortable as you sat there.

Everytime Jon had to share you with the world, it made things between you that much more difficult to overcome. Only now, the weight of so much in this world bared down on both of you and only brought you together after forcing you to lose everything. Jon hoped Robb could somehow see how much he meant to you, hoped that he didn’t hate him for always holding part of your heart.

But he had it for so long, so far away from you, that it was possible to Jon that you forgot what letting it share between you both felt like. “I know it would have been different for you, I don’t know how long you were..”

The shatter in your tone made him want to go to you, but the stillness and harshness in your distant unfocused eyes had him stay. You’d just flinch back from him at that moment if he tried. “It was the same night...” You sighed, running a hand over your forehead before resting them both on the desk, hands clasped against your lips. “It could have been minutes, or hours, but it was long enough to throw me in a cage and for them to...”

Whatever was on your lips next left with something that swam over your eyes like it was about to make you sick, and Jon felt a similar sinking feeling that it was about Robb. That the details you were forcing back down your throat would only serve to hurt him as well.

He could see you bite your tongue even from where was before you. Your name falling so gently from his lips before you stood abruptly. Making your way towards the door and breaking the quiet tension between you both as the cold air rushed in. “We shouldn’t keep your men waiting.”

That damned letter was on the desk in the seconds he was left alone in the room. The letter that started all of this, and the one that woke him from a slumber of refusing to involve himself with the realm. He didn’t read it as he gently picked it up, but he certainly took it with him. As he descended upon the awaiting crowd. You now standing grim and tall much like your father by the platform, standing by his choice no matter what you would’ve done or not done the day before.

Only hours ago Jon had you in ways he never thought would be blessed to him, and yet now you looked at him like you would shatter if he ever got that close again. He couldn’t let you walk away, like being too far from you even sent his head spiralling and an aggression in his chest rose. A barley contained growl within as if he was an animal watching his mate in pain.

Jon felt consumed with something darker in this new life and yet surrounding all of it was a burning possessiveness to keep you close. Jon just didn’t know how to quell that great strengthening desire in him, nor did he know how to keep you by his side without chasing you off. Just his gaze on you was enough to startle you out of the room like a frightened deer. But he could feel it in his heart, he sensed it that night.

The pull to find his body once more as if he could feel his mind being pushed back to where it belonged and all he could think or feel as it happened was you. And then his eyes opened once more in his own body with Ghost at his side and he knew it was you his heart was once more beating for. Beating because of.

But Jon also had no idea what you had truly been through, the extent of the night Robb died and what led you into the captors of the Boltons escaping with barley your sanity. Perhaps you just needed time, but Jon needed you. The darkness was coming to devour them all, a night that never ends and Jon had seen first hand the death which would follow if no one did anything about it.

It was on his shoulders now, but Jon couldn’t do it without you. He didn’t want to either.

Draped in blacks and furs, scar over the skin right beside his eye still red and imposing as the snowflakes fell across the wildness of his curls. Jon stood tall as he faced the two men who had yet to find any redemption or remorse. They had watched what you did to the man responsible, and now Jon would finish what you started.

His eyes dark as he looked up, their hands tied together and noose around their necks with looks of contempt from all three men standing there. Jon’s a seething and quiet outrage as Yarwyck spit, “You shouldn’t be alive, it isn’t right.”

You stood only a few feet beside Jon, his voice rasping deep as he didn’t turn away from them. “Neither was killing me.” Eyes flashing to down in that cell, the first time you pulled the edges of his shirt to the side to trace over the wounds deep in him and how they later felt flat against your palms as he knelt over you.

Bowen Marsh was pleading with more regret but no apology. “Would you let my mother know, she still lives in White Harbour. Tell her I died fighting the wildlings.” It wasn’t her Jon had issue with, and it was his duty to listen to the mens final words and requests. He gave a nod in agreement to his request, and their fate was sealed.

He let them go loose, and it took minutes for the sounds to stop. Jon had told them he wouldn’t give them a death as merciful as you had to Ser Alliser, and yet he felt little guilt. Looking to you, it was hard to tell if there was regret or shame in your own eyes.

A power of the gods had told them that Jon Snow should not be dead, and it was through you they chose to do so. You could argue against the idea, but you both felt that deep pull. Loving one another was just part of who you were for so long, but this wasn’t just that. This was something darker, something more desperate and protective that Jon knew would be impossible to keep away from this time around.

You could feel her eyes on you, watching with a shocked curiosity that you knew would lead to answers you already dreaded. You knew what you had done, what you had felt and what was said about such powers in her god. Her intentions for one man, but it flowed through you to bring back another.

Men all around this camp wanted to speak to you, had things to address and questions which needed answering but none of them were what you could handle. Not today, maybe not tomorrow or ever by this state of your mind. Not until one final thing was done.

When none had seen you part, none followed, she finally did.

A small fire finding itself lit as the remains of the hanged burned before the brother, the leader they betrayed and the men who now remained which stood with him. A few stragglers remained about, and it was them who helped you up.

The steps towards the lift were sturdy but you felt even there the cold wind of night increasing over your face. The long leather across your back and arms at least sheltered the warm better then everything else on you. Closing the gate behind you, you leaned against the back with your hands braced against the wood as you looked to the rising view of Castle Black.

The darkness of the North you knew in front rose up and the fires lighting below dimmed. Enough of the days clouds had scattered as the moon shined bright, but the crackling and gears turning around you were loud. The floor not shaking, but uneasy under your feet as you raised higher then most had ever been before leaning your head back eyes slipping shut to await the stop.

You knew in the morning, Ser Davos would seek you out and speak the words you wished you could throw into the mud. Where your place was now you did not know, but you did know it wasn’t that and it never would be. Your father did not come all the way to the Wall thinking it would help the Iron Throne and if he truly died in attempts to reclaim land from the Boltons that was not for anything but the North either.

A North that he turned away to your face and not. A North all his side called you a traitor for siding with, you had no place in his plans then and you could not see taking up them in his memory as right or fair. A new purpose needed to be carved before the swirling agony of panic inside you had you leap from these heights. This was far taller then the stone walls of Winterfell. This jump would certainly kill you.

The tops of the wall were higher then most, only opening up in carved spots to look out too as braziers laid about that had the stragglers within. Some men only watched you with a silent fear as you passed, others with a nervous mutter of a title you had not heard in a long time. Coming around the corner was an empty opening, but high enough the sky lit the trees below.

The wind was utterly freezing as it blew the edges of your coat and the strands of your hair around behind you. Your eyes widened a bit and the cold stung them, but the sight was as magnificent as it was invoking of terrifying. You had been out there, just barley and yet with no idea this was truly what lay beyond.

Only, the cold grew within your bones and for just a moment the dark of the night enveloped you with blues and cries of an infant in dreams long passed. Images of this sight but in the daytime flashed through your eyes and pretty red hair flashed through your mind and instantly you closed your eyes to push them out.

For too long you had been nothing but a problem in his life, something keeping him down and even now your very name in Ramsay’s hand caused his death. Even in his new life you had no idea if you belonged in it or if he wanted you in it. In the throes of the night it wasn’t even a thought that was all just a passing passion but now in the quiet and the freezing high dark you could hear him.

Hear how much he wanted to break you case any others wanted to play with his new toy. The vile spitting in your ear of mocking that ruined the memories of the only man who before then had taken you like that. Ramsay ruined all of it and you felt like a stupid child for thinking the kind of man Jon had become would care at all to take on your pain as his burden anymore.

If your true purpose in such a new life was just to be there to bring him back then you fulfilled that and should leave the realms to those who still deserved to fight for it. You felt her before you saw her, something that creeped up your spine and wrapped their tendrils around your neck speaking whispers of fire into them.

Not dressed much better then you, Melisendre stood beside you looking out to the far North with something less knowing on her face. A quieter shock that permeated her person and a tone quieter then such certainly held the night before. “The Lord of Light works through you, your grace. A power that should not belong to any. I merely speak to the Lord and he answers with his own power if he sees fit, and I do with offerings and practices he desires and yet it was you who he chose the one to bring back.”

Your eyes glared to her before returning back to the windy darkness. “What do you know about it?”

“Many have seen the wounds on your person, and none of them think you should have survived it. But I know you didn’t, your sights in the flames was death but here you stand.” Neither noticed the figure leaned against the cold walls of ice some feet away with keen ears. “The Lord brought you back himself, so you could be the one to bring another back.”

Your tone was low and filled with much ire, “And yet I didn’t have to burn any alive to accomplish it. What does that say about this god of yours.” Melisendre watched you curiously, the sight of Jon Snow as alive as he was dead hours before was a shock. He was not the name in the visions and flames she sought to revive. No images of her King showed death but it was death spoken of him, offering the princess as a final sacrifice was needed.

Appearing, you had taken away that chance and the Lord would not consider burning her body the offering, but you had done it at your own hand and that was the blood he decided would bring this man back. He accepted your offer, not any else and she could not help but consider that only someone of once death could bring back another in such a way.

“I think it means the Lord intends to keep you alive, that the flames showed me the truth. The King will return to us, because you have returned to him, the wolf at your side.”

For all her calm, she didn’t expect the move and you didn’t quite either. In a second, you had the woman pinned roughly to the wall with a small but sharp blade pressed to her stomach. Just barley scraping the fabric as you leaned into her with fury in your eyes. “Don’t speak to me about what your Lord intends. You looked me in the eyes, told me of a future with my husband that was ripped away from us by his own men.”

There was a hitch in her breathe, it seemed drastic pain sent more then just the King’s Baratheon into such a violent push. “I spoke the truth, it was not any fault of mine that he did not show me which wolf you would be at the side of. We do not choose our destiny.”

You pushed a little harder, blood rushing in your veins as your muscles screamed at you to act but you just stared at her with unmoving stillness. “Do not speak to me about my destiny, you have no right now or ever again to tell me what future you think I should follow. He was my husband, the only thing he fought for was his family and his people. You have no right to have any part in his memory. Or anyone else I love.”

Not easily persuaded by her words or allure, and Melisendre knew that too well as you dragged it a little down her stomach. “Do you feel where that blade is? Where it would go into you if I pushed a little further? That’s where Roose Bolton stabbed me, three times in this very spot. I bled out in minutes, having to watch him shove the same blade into Robb’s heart as we died beside each other.”

The figure just beyond felt that pain in his own heart, more ways then one but truly an unsettled feeling at how similar their ends were in wounds and betrayal. And how you were at the centre of both.

“I lost everything that night, and I have no idea where it is I belong in this life anymore. Maybe my destiny was to just be here and bring Jon back, but it cost me my life and my sister. Don’t you dare tell me that everything the North lost was just because you think I was with the wrong person at the wrong time. Don’t you dare tell me that.” You didn’t hide the tears, not as they ran down your cheeks and not in the anger they soaked your voice in.

The shaking in your hand from the burning in your nerves was too angry. You knew one more word from her and you would push this too far. Pulling back with a shaky inhale you ran a hand over your mouth before stepping away.

“You leave tonight.” Quiet and barley audible over the wind but she heard you and so did he. “You dragged my sister up onto a pyre and almost burned her alive for your god. If the only thing that brought Jon back was what I did then that is my weight to bare but you put her there. You put the King’s only living heir, the daughter he loved more then anything as a sacrifice to bring him back.”

Stepping in a way that you weren’t quite in sight before you turned back to her.

“You served my father well, but you will not serve me nor any in the North. You leave tonight, and if I ever see you in these lands again I will show you exactly how getting that scar felt. Only I don’t presume your god will see to keep you alive for it.”

Finding his grey eyes as you stepped out, you could see pain in his. You lost Robb but so did he, and he didn’t deserve to have you around to make that pain worse. You did enough damage to Jon Snow as it was. You said nothing as you walked away but he saw the desperate tears in your eyes as you saw them threatening to fall behind the anger in his.

Standing at the top of the landing, palms both leaned forward and braced on the wooden railing as she looked back to you for one last time. You knew all Melisendre found was contempt. She had tried to speak to him in your leave, but found nothing more of comfort.

“You put Shireen on that pyre, not her. Which means that little girl’s blood is on your hands. If I ever see you anywhere in the North, or anywhere near her ever again, I’ll hang you myself.”

You felt him beside you as she left. Both once dead, brought back for the other side by side as the moon fell high over the sky you thought for a moment, that it felt normal to be beside him like that. But just as the thought came to you, so did the guilt, so did the blood, and so did the twisting lies of Ramsay as he took you in ways now that only two men you ever loved had you.

And you felt sick. Jon was looking at you, but you both knew you were trying to not look back and you wished you never interfered in his life in the first place. Unable to shake the thought that Jon simply would been better off if you left him alone. He didn’t need you to bring him down just as he found true leadership for the only cause that mattered. Both of you could feel something rotting and dreadful inside of you that day you separated on the Kingsroad and only now did that feeling stop for good.

Somewhere in the dead of night, he wondered if it just might be the gods trying to tell you both, that you and Jon Snow hadn’t just wanted it, but that you had truly needed to be together. He couldn’t find reason to chalk up these dreams, these visions, and the way only you brought him back to all but coincidence.

He just needed to find a way to make you believe that. And more present and urgently, he needed to know exactly what Ramsay Bolton had done to you, to twist your fears of Jon’s love into this such terrifying doubt inside you.

[toomuchracket]

secret admirer (dad!ross x reader fluff)

day 1 of valentine's week by bff @abiiors!! in this one... the kids want to know how you and ross got together. cute as shit. enjoy <3

it's at dinnertime when you're first asked the question. 

ross is quietly coaxing keir to finish his peas, to minimal success. eilidh swallows a mouthful of gravy-soaked mash and turns to look at you curiously. “mummy… how did you and dad meet?”

“you already know, bean,” you take a sip of your wine and smile at her. “met dad and your uncles when i helped design the stage for one of their first shows.”

ross takes a break from lecturing your son about the merits of eating your five-a-day to look at you and wink. there's a warmth in those dark eyes of his - the same one that got you hooked on him in the first place, actually - and you know he's thinking about that fateful first meeting too. “yeah, when i had to save mum, eilidh,” he chuckles. “from matty talking about his vision at a hundred miles an hour. her eyes were proper glazed over and everything, you know.”

“they still go like that when he talks to you now sometimes, mummy,” keir adds, still pushing peas around his plate. his dad and sister laugh, while your jaw falls open at the fact you've been clocked by your four year old.

he's not wrong, though.

eilidh's giggles fade into soft hums. “but how did you end up being boyfriend and girlfriend?”

ross’s eyes meet yours again. he smirks, taking a sip of his own wine. “d'you want to tell the story, love?” he asks, foot sliding up your leg under the table, flirty. “or shall i tell them how i swept you off your feet?”

“oh, is that what it was?” you tease, trapping his leg between your own.

“of course.”

you laugh. “you and i remember it differently, then. but alright,” you stretch, shuffling in your seat before looking at your kids’ anticipated little faces. “here's what happened…”

2013

“should we do something different for valentine's day?”

you turn to look incredulously at matty, exhaling your cigarette smoke. “is further context required there, or are you asking me out? because absolutely not, if so.”

“oh, charming. thank god i see you as a little sister and no more,” matty winces, taking a drag of his own cigarette before he speaks again. “i mean for the show on the 14th. we could do, like, pink lighting instead of white, or something.”

you hum. “i don't hate the idea. but i think sticking with the black and white thing is maybe a good idea for now. cohesion, recognition, establishing identity as you gear up to release the album, all that jazz, yeah?”

“good point.”

“i do like the pink, though. maybe we could do something with it in the future?”

“yeah. i'll keep it in mind. usual staging it is, then,” matty turns to face you, resting a shoulder on the brick wall. “so, given that you've theoretically rejected me…

you roll your eyes.

“... who are you seeing on valentine's day?”

“nobody. we've got a gig, remember?” you ash your cigarette glumly. “i'll be selling t-shirts with your face on them up the back of the venue all night.”

“and i love you - platonically - for that,” your friend grins. “but what about after the show?”

“after?”

“yeah.”

you ponder. “probably just going home to shower off the residual weed smell i'll inevitably take on, to be honest.”

matty laughs; his face drops when he realises you're not kidding. “oh. you're serious.”

“mhmm.”

“but,” he looks baffled. “you're twenty-three. you're cute, objectively. you're sweet. you're fun. there's really nobody you want to spend valentine's day with?”

well… your lips part of their own accord as if to speak; you quickly snap them shut before you make a sound. no. you can't tell anyone. especially matty, of all people.

apparently, though, you don't close your mouth fast enough - your friend notices, and giggles, eyes lighting up. “who is he? go on, tell me. promise i won't tell anyone, honest.”

“not a chance.”

“pleeeeeeeeeease?”

“no, matthew,” you take a final drag of your cigarette before stamping it out. “i'm never telling anyone, because it'll never go anywhere between me and him anyway, and thus i am perfectly fine just letting the crush i have fade without acting on it. i'll develop another one soon, anyway.”

no you won't. you've never fancied someone as much in your life as you fancy…

“there you are. was wondering where you'd gotten to, matty,” ross wanders round the side of the building, relief evident on his face. it seems to light up when he sees you, but that's most likely your brain playing tricks on you. “oh. hiya, love. didn't know you were in today, s'nice to see you.”

love?!

shut up. it's ross. he calls everyone that, dipshit.

you clear your throat. “hi, ross. s'nice to see you too. you look… well.”

you pray neither of the boys noticed the awkward pause while you came up with an alternative for “devastatingly attractive”, or that your voice didn't sound as small and squeaky as it sounded to you.

thankfully, neither of them mention it. ross just smiles, and all you can do is focus on not squealing at how cute his dimples are. “thanks. you look good. hair's nice like that.”

“oh,” you self-consciously touch the ponytail you hastily shoved your hat-messy hair into earlier. “thank you.”

he smiles again. “so, what are you gonna develop another of? were you talking about work?”

you say “yes” at the same time the gobshite next to you says “yeah, but then we moved onto talking about how she has no valentine's day plans but she also won't tell whoever she has a crush on that she wants to shag them because she thinks it’s unrequited.”

for fuck's sake.

sighing, you facepalm. ross blinks. “fair enough.”

“you don't think she should tell him?” matty looks aghast.

“what i think is that you should stop pestering her about it,” ross looks pointedly at matty, then turns to you. “but - and i don't want to overstep the mark here, love…”

“no, no, it's fine.”

“... you’ll never get what you really want unless you ask for it,” he finishes, a pleasant smile on his face. “what have you got to lose by doing so, anyway?”

this. our friendship. potentially my job, if i fuck it up enough.

“yeah, i suppose,” you murmur hesitantly. “i'll consider it.”

and you do - in fact, you're still considering it when you next see ross, during setup for the gig on the big day itself. he appears when you're pushing the box light into position on the tiny stage, quickly laying down his bass to run and help you, despite your protests that you've got everything under control.

seeing his arms flex as he works, though, and the way the stark white light somehow manages to warm up those dark eyes? you most definitely do not. still, you refuse to say anything to him then. or before the show, when he automatically passes you a beer so you can be included in the pre-gig cheers. or afterwards, when he risks being pounced upon by drunken fans just so he can help you pack up the merch stall, cracking jokes despite his tiredness.

it's only when you're loading the boxes of t-shirts into adam's car that you actually start to think that mentioning the crush to ross might not be a bad thing. you close the boot with a weary sigh, turning to face ross and high-five him - like you always do - with gratitude. and then he does something… strange.

he hugs you.

it's not a long hug, and definitely one of the “thanks, mate” variety, but still. it's not a common thing to happen between the two of you, ross’s arms wrapping around your shoulders and your waist and pulling you into his chest. it's warm. cosy. safe. and as soon as he lets go, you miss him.

before you get a chance to dwell on that, though, he speaks. “you coming to the pub with us now?”

“us?” your brow furrows. “who's us?”

“everyone except adam and waughy,” ross grins. “you're not the only one with no valentine's plans, love,” his face contorts into panic. “wait, fuck, i just assumed, because you said last week-”

“ross, relax, babe,” you smile, beating yourself up internally for the way the pet name just slipped out; you blame the joy that fizzed up in your stomach when he essentially admitted he's single. “i'm coming to the pub.”

he smiles again, relief evident in his eyes. “alright. good. i think we'll have a good night.”

you do, actually, despite matty monologuing the whole walk there about “you should just phone that guy you like and tell him. for the love of god, at least one of us needs to pull tonight. s'depressing if we don't”. it's actually george who manages that first, disappearing after the first round with a redhead and returning, lipstick-stained and gleefully dazed, half an hour later. matty's next, chatting up girls at the bar and collecting phone numbers by the handful, pointing out vaguely handsome men to you with “yes? no? maybe?” to no avail.

ross doesn't pull at all.

not for lack of trying from the female clientele in the pub, though - every time he leaves the table, you watch heads turn in his direction, and some bodies following. envy tinges your vision green whenever a girl approaches him, but you needn't worry; no matter how pretty or persistent or personable the girls are, ross politely chats as he waits for the drinks, bids them goodbye, and comes back to you. well, to the table. where he sits next to you.

it makes you feel good. so good, in fact, that you decide to tell him how you feel, right then and there. you take another sip of your wine - dutch courage and all - and rest your elbow on the table and your head on your hand, facing ross. “i'm glad i came out tonight.”

“so am i,” he mirrors your pose, smiling. god, you love his dimples. “it's been a good night.”

“yeah. not a bad valentine's day at all.”

ross giggles. “as good as it gets for singles,” he takes a sip of his pint, then looks at you a bit more seriously. “you spoken to that guy yet? the one you like?”

you bite down a giggle, shaking your head. “d'you think i should? ask him out?”

“if you really like him, yeah.”

“but,” you look down at the table, absentmindedly running your index finger round the rim of your glass. “what if he doesn't like me?”

“why wouldn't he?” ross's voice is soft - so are his eyes, you look up to discover. “you're great.”

“really?”

he nods. “really great.”

your heart glows. your face does the same. “thank you, ross.”

he shrugs. “i'm just telling the truth, love. now,” he grins, tapping your phone. “ask him.”

bless him. 

you exhale, smiling. “alright,” you turn round to compose yourself, then look back at ross with a smile. “would you like to go for dinner with me?”

for a second, you falter as ross's brow furrows. “what, now? like a kebab- oh,” his jaw drops, and he blinks a few times. “really? it's me that you have a crush on?”

“yeah,” you bite the inside of your cheek, nervous. “is that… really bad?”

“hmm? no, no, not at all! just surprising, s'all,” ross takes your free hand in his own. he looks dazed, but he's genuinely smiling. “i had no idea you liked me like that.”

“and here i was thinking i was doing a shit job at hiding it.”

ross laughs, softly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb; warmth erupts under your skin wherever he touches. he looks at you, so tenderly you want to look away. “yes.”

your turn to be confused. “yes i was doing a shit job at hiding my crush on you? or…?”

“no, love,” ross chuckles, squeezing your hand. “yes, i'd love to go for dinner with you. tomorrow too soon?”

you feel weightless, joyous, positively giddy. but you have to stay cool, so you simply beam at him. “tomorrow's perfect.”

present day

“...so, we went for dinner - pasta, before you ask, keir - and that was it. dad said he wanted to be my boyfriend before we'd even gotten to the tiramisu,” you smile at the memory. “and then we were like that for a while, and then we got married, and then we had you two. and now, here we are.”

“that's it?” keir frowns at you, then looks up at his dad. “but you said you swept mum off her feet.”

ross snorts, ruffling his son's hair. “yeah, not literally, keeks. i just meant that she was very impressed by me.”

“i don't get it.”

“well, ask matty to explain metaphors to you when you next see him, then.”

you wince (ross laughs at that), turning to your daughter, preoccupied with petting ash the cat, who climbed onto her lap halfway through your talk. “thoughts, eils?”

“hmm,” she makes a face. “it's not a very exciting story, mum.”

“cute, though, no?”

“kind of, i guess.”

“wow, you two are hard to impress,” you sigh, turning to ross and smiling despite your kids’ boredom. “worked out well for us, though, didn't it?”

“absolutely, love. couldn't have worked out any better,” ross leans over the table to kiss you; you return it with relish.

“ewwwwwwww! gross!”

“dad, please don’t do that to mum in front of me ever again.”

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I’ve finally reached a point where I can sit down and do some work on Ash’s game on my own. It took a lot longer than I thought it would. Not only because his workflow is incredibly chaotic, but also his design is incredibly complex, far more complex than anything we work on at Rainy Day, but it’s fun to feel challenged again.

I’ve spent every night this week in Ash’s living room while he walks me through everything he has so far, sorting out the design and the mechanics, his ideas for the worlds, characters, storylines, objectives, and so on. Yet, it feels like we’ve only scratched the surface.

We work well together, but we’re also easily distracted, often going off on random tangents and talking about everything from our families to school years and childhood friends to experiences we’ve had or want to have; we talk about how fun it would be to have our own indie gaming company one day, if only we could focus on the actual game for longer than an hour at a time.

Last night a song came on that inspired a whole conversation about music and all the songs we used to sing the wrong lyrics to, and some he still sings wrong just to annoy Lex. We started playing a game where we’d give each other a random word or category and the other would have to play a song they liked that fit. At one point I asked him what his guilty pleasure song is.

“Oh, I have dozens of those,” he said, “uh, but the first one that comes to mind is The Boys of Summer.”

“Your guilty pleasure song is an 80’s song?” I was shocked considering the amount of shit he gives me for the majority of my playlist.

“No no no no,” he shook his head, “I should clarify. The original sucks.”

“Of course you think so.”

“Obviously. Okay, but the one I’m talking about is the cover of The Boys of Summer by The Ataris.

“I like the name, but I have no idea who that is,” I admitted.

He laughed as he pulled up the song and told me, “You’re either going to love this or hate it. I’m not sure which.” When he pressed play, all I could do was watch in awe as he shamelessly enjoyed the song, complete with hand motions, air guitar and lip syncing. At one point he leaned in and sang directly to me, “But I don’t understand what happened to our love. But baby when I get you back, I’m gonna show you what I’m made of!” And then he spun away and started dancing to the chorus.  

Before I had a chance to think too hard about whether he was trying to tell me something through the lyrics, he pulled me off the couch to join him. We sang and danced with everything we had until we collapsed onto the couch, out of breath and wiping tears from our eyes.

When we finally calmed down, he pointed at me, “Your turn. What’s your guilty pleasure song?”

“Oh god,” I covered my face, “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.”

“Tell me.” He demanded.

“Dancing With Myself by Generation X. I can’t hear it and not sing and dance around my apartment like an idiot.”

“Oh, I have got to see this!” He sat up excitedly to find the song and turn it on… and then cheered when I began clapping my hands to the beat… and then completely lost it and fell over laughing when I sang along with my eerily accurate Billy Idol impersonation.

It’s become one of my favorite things, making him laugh. He has about a dozen different laughs from a rush of air through his teeth, to an infectious giggle, to a loud belly laugh… but my favorite is when he’s laughing so hard that no sound comes out aside from a series of clicks until he finally catches his breath.

It’s so easy with him, to get out of my head, to just relax and be myself.

Not everything is easy, though. I keep telling myself that eventually my feelings will fade, that it will get easier to just be his friend and nothing more, but if anything, it’s getting more difficult. Sometimes when we’re together, all I can think about is sliding my hand over to rest it on his leg, or to pick up his hand and interlace our fingers, or to reach up and hold his face, turning it toward me so I can kiss him. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing him, his lips, his neck, that inch skin above his waistband that sometimes shows when his shirt rides up just enough, every part of him. Sometimes I let my eye contact linger just a little, desperate for him to give me a sign that he still feels the same way, but he never does. On some level, I’m grateful. It’s better this way. I’d only end up hurting him again.

I hear the front door open and close, bringing me out of my daydream and back to my computer screen. I look over what I’ve done so far to make sure I didn’t screw anything up while I drifted away.

A second later, I hear Dawn enter the room and flop onto my bed behind me and I glance at the clock, it’s only two.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Finished early. What are you doing? I thought you weren’t working on Fridays anymore.”

“I’m not. It’s just a side project I’m working on with Ash.”

“Ooooh I see.”

I roll my eyes and change the subject before she can inquire further. “So, why are you on my bed? What do you want?” As I say the words, I’m overcome by the feeling that we’ve done this before.

“For you to take a break and go do something with me." I'm antsy. "I’m antsy.” Her words come out like an echo from my own mind and my whole body feels fuzzy for a moment.

“Have we had this conversation before?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Hm. I’m having the weirdest déjà vu.”

“Maybe you’ve been staring at that screen too long. We should get out and do something.”

“What do you have in mind?”

I’m open to suggestions. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Weird. This conversation, the song playing through my speaker, Dawn laying on my bed, me at my computer… everything feels so familiar. “Where’s your boyfriend? Why aren’t you dragging him out?” Even as I ask the question, I know I’ve asked it before.

“He’s busy…” Having coffee with his ex-girlfriend. “Having coffee with his ex-girlfriend.”

Okay, I clearly need some fresh air, and she clearly needs my support right now, so I save my work, lock my computer, and spin around to face her. “Oh, that’s why you’re antsy. Okay, I can take a break, but let’s go outside. We can go for a jog, that’ll get your energy out.”

“Fine, I’ll go change.”

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[txttletale]

Can you give your thoughts on the general character art design of Hades? It's always seemed kind of off to me and you seem to have good enough media opinions to put the reason why into words

i mean, first of all, i think that they suffer just from being The Greek Gods and therefore just having the most barebones basic designs that those archetypal characters get in pop culture. like look at zeus:

like. this is Zeus. there are some interesting flairs here with the lightning crown and cloud beard but like. It's Zeus. the visual language here is not communicating anything more interesting or unique or vivid than It's Zeus. contrast, like, rukey from pyre:

look at how much fucking personality is conveyed by this little freak. the fucking moustache! the fancy little cloak but the messy dog hair. the playful expression, the gold tooth, the glint of cunning in the eye, the raised little paw. you look, at this guy and get an immediate idea of what and who he is.

i also hate how 1. shrinkwrapped and 2. fucking grey and ashy every single character in hades is. like look at zeus's muscles up there this man is fucking dehydrated and like. why does athena look like this

she is grey. she is so fucking grey. this is a vampire. this is a woman made of ash.

furthermore i find what they did with the greek gods wrt to making them a few different races to be a cowardly half-measure. like--the idea they forwarded in interviews that greek gods are 'global' and should represent the whole world are, quite frankly, just bullshit! i dislike this universalization of a mythology that is very very very tied to a particular culture and time and place because it is just another shape of the attempted universalization of the 'Western Canon', the removal of these things from historical place and context to make them abstract ideals that can be imposed upon the whole world because they 'transcend culture' while really they have just been incorporated into a dominant culture.

but, like, most frustratingly--there is a like huge wealth of cultural variety to be found in greco-roman myth. versions of these gods were worshipped in north africa and egypt and west asia and even as far as india. but, like, the commitment to multiethnicisim is purely surface-level, so they don't employ any of the iconography or look into these non-european syncretic depictions of these deities. they just take all their design cues from the tired pop-culture versions of purely greek aesthetics. imagine how fucking interesting the character designs for hades could have been if instead of making dionysus a person of colour and calling it a day, they represented a specifically indo-greek dionysus!

first after the conquests of alexander and once again after the expansion of the roman empire, these sorts of syncretic beliefs flourished throughout the mediterranean. if you really want to write a greek mythology story without a cast of white guys then give me Zeus-Ammon, god dammit!

anyway yeah the fact that all of hades' characters look like they're severely hydrated and their roof just caved in on them is weird and bad and other than that they're for the most part just deeply generic Greek Gods with what feels like very little care or innovation or personality put into their designs compared to characters from transistor or pyre. shomar shasberg and manly tindenstauf each have more unique visual personality than every hades character combined

[immediatebreakfast]

By her side stood a tall, thin man, clad in black. His face was turned from us, but the instant we saw we all recognised the Count—in every way, even to the scar on his forehead. With his left hand he held both Mrs. Harker's hands, keeping them away with her arms at full tension; his right hand gripped her by the back of the neck, forcing her face down on his bosom. which threw his victim back upon the bed as though hurled from a height, he turned and sprang at us Van Helsing, Art, and I moved forward to Mrs. Harker, who by this time had drawn her breath and with it had given a scream so wild, so ear-piercing, so despairing that it seems to me now that it will ring in my ears till my dying day.  Then she put before her face her poor crushed hands, which bore on their whiteness the red mark of the Count's terrible grip

Is this supposed to be the "timeless forbidden love story" that so many adaptations brag about? Is this treatment supposed to be "subversion of the expected" prude victorian love that directors pat themselves on the back for "fixing"? Is this the I have crosses seas to find you or whatever bullshit?

Mina being treated like a thing? Having her arms be almost broken for trying to fight the horrible man who killed the only girl she loved, almost killed her husband, and traumatized her in a scene akin to sexually assaulting her in the middle of the night?

He had been there, and though it could only have been for a few seconds, he made rare hay of the place. All the manuscript had been burned, and the blue flames were flickering amongst the white ashes; the cylinders of your phonograph too were thrown on the fire, and the wax had helped the flames.

Is this love? Mina hearing how her hard work, her manuscript she did with her own hands, is now ashes? Having to repeat the traumatic event in front of everyone while repeating how Dracula threatened her with bashing Jonathan's brain in front of her eyes, plunging herself into more shame, then having a religious crisis after Mina is branded with the proof that god itself abandoned her because of the Count's attack?

And so you, like the others, would play your brains against mine. You would help these men to hunt me and frustrate me in my designs! my bountiful wine-press for a while; and shall be later on my companion and my helper.

Mina got called a fucking WINE PRESS for everything that is sacred! On top of being told that her future is being reduced to a companion, to a helper. A shadow with no self autonomy who will roam earth in a hellish existance attatched to a man who doesn't even see her as a human, but an object to be won. The Count hates Mina for her wits, he hates that a woman bested him in a play where she had the upper hand, yet he desires her enough to punish her by erasing everything that makes Mina Harker the woman she is.

Is this what Mina deserves? Is this the forbidden love? Does Mina deserves to be shreded, punished, and reduced to a winning object when she is at the lowest in this book? For what, to symphatize with a conqueror who thinks that it's his right to destroy all of the lives he comes across for his own sick entertaiment?

Where is the soft love that Jonathan expresses for Mina, where is the devotion given to her as she prays to god for an answer.

Oh my God! my God! what have I done? What have I done to deserve such a fate, I who have tried to walk in meekness and righteousness all my days. God pity me! Look down on a poor soul in worse than mortal peril; and in mercy pity those to whom she is dear!"

Why should Mina suffer because clueless non readers romanticize the trauma that she went through to the point that Mina became suicidal in a single night.

"You would not kill yourself?" he asked, hoarsely. "I would; if there were no friend who loved me, who would save me such a pain, and so desperate an effort!"

If Mina didn't have Jonathan, didn't have Van Helsing and the others, she would have died from pure distress and shame. How horrible is to see Mina push through what happened without truly taking time to see how she is truly blameless in here, and that she should not beg god for forgiveness when that acursed presence left her unprotected to an ancient evil.

[emblemxeno]

Eik wins but because Baldr wins both sides are doing the same thing um no? Baldr is any sexy booby oc in a sea while Eik is the rare male fanservice character in a sea of women, a lot of people rallied around to prove male fanservice sells too but now we have the straight men being all “let’s agree all fanservice is bad “and I JUST WANT YO SHAKE THEM you don’t get constantly sexualized in everything while men can just be themselves and get catered to in everything and it pisses me off they refuse to see it and didn’t have a problem until now and now its both are bad I’m so tired. And here’s the thing I’m a sex repulsed asexual so I don’t like it period (hate this world) but my god how does anyone not see the difference?

Sorry to vent I’m curious on your thoughts on this you have really good analysis on things like this

I think you're spot on in your take tbh.

Like, I'm not gonna police horny stuff, or even generalize that people only vote for horny reasons. Baldr is pretty appealing in different ways. Design is one of them, but personally I also have interest in how they adapt the Norse myth into it (because Norse mythology go crazy) and because the Ojou-sama haughty personality is hiliarious to me.

But to ignore "she's hot" being a factor would be a bit naive. She's in the same position as Gullveig, only known for a couple months yet having a popularity boom because of aesthetic, interest in their story, and probable meme potential. But also cuz hot.

As you say, FEH has had no shortage of hot or attractive women. Example: How FEH treats the mainline FE game women, what with the odd (or flat out incorrect) body proportions, poses that make no sense, costumes that are impractical, and blatant imbalance of men and women in the banners themselves.

Even removing them from the equation, we have had many female OCs be massively popular for reasons that are... easy to understand, to be nice about it.

To start, there's the fact that, until this current book, the only free OCs we've gotten were women.

Fjorm, besides having a canon crush on the summoner, has also weirdly been hit with the sex appeal beam recently, with Summer and Ice Festival. Personally I think Fjorm was whatever, but became ironically hiliarious because of her crashing Forging Bonds every time, but I would've easily thought Gunnthra, Laevatain and Laegjarn would've had that "sexy OC" position more often, aside from their swimsuit alts.

Ash, Reginn and Ratatoskr fall into the "cute and bumbling" appeal which is a prominent niche. Peony would seem like an odd case of not having many hornybait fans, but then you realize Plumeria and Triandra were also there, and then Freyja hit a massive popularity surge for her story and design, before getting a sexy swimsuit alt as well. Even then, Peony's still cute. Dagr and Nott hit the "muscle mommy" niche. And Loki and Thorr are sexy and have been somewhat omnipresent.

Eir would be the true oddball, because she's very beautiful with a compelling story, but kind of is not given a lot of stuff.

But the real big example is all of book 7. Not only is Seior kind of infamous for both her design and "create a child with me" line, almost all of the cast was a variant of her/related to her in some way. Then looking at the designs for Book 7 in general, and like... yeah.

Now, compare that to the male OCs we have gotten over the years. Alfonse hits some good notes, but he was criticized as pretty boring early on until Book 3 started him on his cutthroat trend. Bruno is very obviously hot, but always had to be written around rather than written for, until he was flat out killed off in Book 6. Plus his clothes bursting apart to show his bod was kind of played for laughs rather than drawn to be outright attractive.

I think Helbindi and Surtr are hot, but I'm very much an outlier. (There could also be an anti dark skin element to them and Bruno but there's not enough evidence for that)

Lif was treated better than the actual star OC of Book 3, but he's not known for sexy fanservice, he's known for cool factor and being a dark future for Alfonse. Freyr is handsome but killed off mid Book 4. Book 5 had Otr and Fafnir, the latter I like, but neither were winning beauty contests. Same for Elm. Then you get Njordr, the only new man in Book 7, with a design that's not to everyone's taste (I happen to like it), a motivation that's badly undercooked, and has not even been made playable.

Eik was really kind of the first outright "here, we made this to appeal to people who like Muscular Men", considering the fangirling FEH was doing in the midpoint channel. Coming after Book 7 which was the most egregious skew towards fanservice-y designs for the women, and it was a bit of a perfect storm. And while interest in him for his design alone happened ever since Book 8's reveal, the above average writing of Book 8 (for FEH standards) helped him surge even more, along with more fourth wall breaking "you're interested in my muscles?" lines from him.

So, contextually, as you say, it's not a fair comparison for Eik and Baldr, because Eik is 1) the first guy who's had fanservice backing and popularity growth fueling it through his Book's story and 2) he had an entire Book to gain fans anyway unlike Baldr and Gullveig.

And definitely, there's major room for a conversation about misogyny regarding how women in media often have to be made attractive and sexy while the men get to be weird creatures and oddly shaped. FEH doesn't really treat many of its women as more than things to sell to horny people, and Eik was the first example of a man doing it, which was so uncommon that he got a lot of fans just for being different.

I wish that wasn't the case, considering the fact that many characters who aren't the typical sexy women have been conistently popular. Look at Veronica and Sharena! Idk why IS still believes that there needs to be curvacious babes in order to sell well when there's evidence that good writing or feel good personalities do just as fine. Women shouldn't just be hit with the "Sexualize Button", I would think that's pretty patronizing and demeaning for irl women and fans of female characters.

[sketchthetofu]

I’m dropping my design ideas for Dakota in your ask box in a little gift wrap

Some things that don’t change in my head are the fact he is 100% the shortest out of PD. It’s not even close. Will and Ashe are around the same height, Vynce is the tallest, and then there is Dakota. Everytime I imagine the height difference between Dakot and Vynce it’s like. Comedic. Also freckles. Trust me I’m god.

The things I can never get down are the big things, like clothes- idfk what this guy is wearing 😭😭, that and I’m gonna try and be vague about this cause I can’t remember if my explanation for this headcanon has been shown where you are yet- but I sometimes Head-canon him as half chaos demon. I thinkkkkk you should be at the point where that makes sense but I’m not gonna be specific just in case. Also his fucking hair, have no clue. Not a single idea. I know that it’s probably curly and that’s it.

Dakota is rotating in my mind but idk what he looks like SOBS

YESSS GIVE THEM TO MEEEEE YAYYY!!!! /pos

Oh 100% Dakota is the shortest and it’s not a close race at all my guy is SHORT. I’m actually drawing him giving Vyncent a lift via him on Dakotas shoulders and I’m trying soooo hard to make Vyncent as dangly and tall as I see him in my mind compared to Dakota- we shall see if I can lmao. I also agree with the other heights! I usually see William as second shortest? Still very close in height to Ashe but Ashe is just a biiittt taller. FRECKLES!!! (Tho I’m totally bias I give freckles to every character I can- I blame my friend who hated their freckles which I love that I do this hehehehe)

Honestly that’s legit, I’m always going in-between drawing him fashionable and just wearing a tanktop and basketball shorts XD. I think of him as someone who likes clothing he can move around in! I like the combo of his muscle crop top and his baggy pants, but also he’s a sporty teenager lmao. The main two clothing items I always draw him in and think of him always having is his flannel and bandana, other than those two I change stuff around a bit :). OOOO YESSSSS (I’m on s2 ep18 so idk if I’m missing other things from the chaos demon he ate-) LOVE THE HEAD-CANON OF HIM BEING A BIT DEMONIC!!!! Eating that head-canon up rn- it’s been adopted >:). Your also so real for not having a clue with his hair- that was the main struggle I had trying to draw him bc I couldn’t figure out his hair for the LIFE OF ME… I also think that’s bc I love all of the different designs people have for his hair hehehe, I want to use them all, short, curly, hella curly, shoulder length, kinda straight- all of them are done so well by everyone who has a Dakota design AND I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH…. Tho rn I do like the wild kinda straight hair style I’ve been just recently drawing him with :). And I think that’s a characteristic all of the designs have!!! Dakotas hair always looks a bit wild <3.

He looks like my design when rotating in my brain but also everyone else’s designs and just- I love character design and different peoples art styles sooo much wuewuewuewue-

[dream--interrupted]

Warning: looooooong post with many old art ahead! A small break from Greek mythology, have some Hindu mythology instead! (Almost) all of my Mahabharata fanservants. It's time for Pand(ava)emonium!! .......... That sounded funnier in my head.

Berserker, Bhima (I made him before Bhima became canon and I'm keeping him because my Bhima isn't a Lancer!

Madreyas.

Lancer Yudhi.

Ruler Yudhi/Yudhi alter (Dharmaraja)

Caster Yudhi/Indonesian Yudhi (Puntadewa)

Caster Ghatotkacha (I will get around giving you a proper design one day!!!)

Archer Abhimanyu

Bonus: Ruler Krishna.

Miscellaneous:

The jewel on Dharmaraja's forehead is the very same jewel on Ashwatthama's forehead. It was ripped from Ashwatthama as punishment at the end of the Kurukshetra war and was given to Draupadi. Draupadi then gave it to Yudhi to wear.

Nakula's sword(s), Asi, was created by the Gods and has gone through many, many owners but it eventually ended up with Drona and then Ashwatthama after Drona's death. Buttttt then Ash was punished/banished and the sword was given to his maternal uncle, Kripacharya, for safekeeping. Kripa gave the sword to Nakula, who would eventually return it to Kripa when the Pandavas died. It's said Kripa still is caring for the sword (which is apparently sentient!!) until the day Ashwatthama comes back for it.

(Ash is very sick of the Pandavas taking his things...!)

The name of this file is literally "yama why" (alternate name: Yudhi is very tired)

There is probably some drawbacks being the son of the God of the dead and underworld... (Yudhi is my fav and that is why I like bullying him)

Mafia AU.

Yudhi is the boss (and he still hates his life). Dharmaraja is having fun though!

Bhima still the MVP

Nakula utilizes his reputation of being vain - people think he's just admiring himself with his pocket mirror but the truth is he's secretly using it as a way to check on the surroundings behind him.

Sahadeva is always ready to throw hands. Or stab someone. Or shoot someone. Whichever he deems necessary at the moment.