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jonsnowunemploymentera · 7 months ago

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

Jon I, AGOT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ref.

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

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

#jon snow #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #ghost the direwolf #some random extra thoughts:#the aspect of fatherhood is closely tied to kingship as kings are often regarded to be the fathers of their nations #so we might see a parallel where jon-like dany-doesn't have children of his own physical body #but rather rules a kingdom as its symbolic father #think of how odin-a mythical parallel for jon-is called the all father because he is father to all men/lands #also it's interesting to me how kingship is a theme but it's almost like the actual theme is that of kings coming of going #but jon remaining and prevailing above all #we have robert who is a disappointing/bad king and his rule doesn't last very long and neither will his dynasty #jaime looks like a king and even if grrm didn't go through with his original ideas he was never meant to rule for long #in the new story jaime is symbolic of rhaegar a would be king whose time comes and goes leaving jon to pick up the pieces #then tyrion who stands “as tall as a king” but not quite! he still is not as tall as jon and tyrion also says in a later chapter #that soon he'll be even shorter than ghost + tyrion wasn't hand for long #mance who is hidden also has his time as king but it's very short lived and jon later absorbs his kingdom to make his own #so we have the wolf devouring the “left behinds” in a way but the interesting thing is this happens in reverse doesn't it #might Jon's new kingdom not only be made of remnants of the nw and wildlings but also have those left behind from the rest of the 7k?#it's possible since jojen tells us that once night comes all cloaks become black 🙂#so yeah this is all just more jon endgame king of winter/a new north propaganda lmaoooo

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starry-bi-sky · 1 year ago

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Childhood Friends Au: Danny's in Gotham Again

when the wool is off your eyes you'll stop counting sheep at night cause you'll eat your fill of them during the daytime

A few weeks after Danny’s visit to Gotham, he buys an apartment in the city. It’s this little thing, a studio apartment on the same street he grew up in. In Crime Alley. When he tells his parents, they protest heavily. They don’t think it's safe. They think he should reconsider. There were plenty of apartments and places to live somewhere else. And what about college?

Danny doesn’t think he’ll go to college. He isn’t sure what he wants to do, now that being an astronaut is off the table. It’d be a waste of money to go without a goal in mind, he thinks. He says he’ll take a gap year and apply at one of the community colleges funded by the Wayne Corporation, possibly. It just wasn’t in the cards right now.

“If things get tough,” He says at dinner that night, “then I can talk to the Waynes. I’m friends with the family, remember?” He ended up getting Bruce’s number in his phone again before he left, and in the process got Tim’s as well. They don’t talk much, Danny isn’t sure what to say. But he sends Tim memes whenever he comes across one and thinks he’ll like. Tim sends memes back in return.

His parents do remember. They remember. They also remember the horrified shriek that echoed through the house when Danny learned of Jason’s passing. They remember running up the stairs and bursting into their son’s room and finding him sobbing into his bed, curled up like a little kid, like he was in pain. He lost his voice that day, stuck between screaming out his grief and sobbing it.

They’re still not sure if they should let him go.

In the end, Danny wins them out, and he lets them help him search for an apartment. They take a break from their lab work to help search for cheap furniture to buy. They may have more money than when they were in Gotham, but that frugal part of you never fully goes away. They all agree that they don’t want Danny to be seen carrying in nice-looking furniture when he moves in.

He ends up with a basic furniture set, all mismatched, and in the warm summer of June, his parents rent out a u-haul and drive him down to Gotham to move in. They meet the landlord when they arrive, a skinny and frail old man with wispy white hair and a wrinkled face. He gives Danny the keys and tells him what apartment number he is, and then he leaves.

His parents help him move in. They help him carry his heavy furniture up to the second floor, where his apartment is. Danny isn’t sure if he wants them to help. His mom and dad are strong, but they are getting old, closer to their fifties now that their children are grown. His dad’s hair is slowly beginning to thin, and rather than the white eating at the sides of his head, it now streaks through his hair like salt-and-pepper. His mom’s hair is graying out too, and there are more lines in their faces than he remembers there being.

When he voices his concerns, his mom laughs spiritedly and says that they may be getting old, but they are still as spry as when they were in their twenties. Danny isn’t sure if he believes them or not. He can see his dad struggle a bit when they return to get his bed frame, and they have to take a break before they go back down for the rest of their things.

Five years ago, his dad could do this without breaking a sweat. It forces a heavy thing in the back of Danny’s throat. (He is less afraid of his own death than he is of his loved ones, and while he has always felt rocky with his parents, he still loves them more than anything else.)

Danny’s apartment is exactly as he would have expected it to be: shabby and worn through. The entire room smells like stale cigarette smoke and weed, nicotine stains the wall with poorly covered bullet holes, and stains in the carpet that are a color he can’t discern. The fridge has a broken light and when he tries to turn on the gas stove, it click-click-clicks before lighting, fire fwooshing out while the smell of gas fills the air. There’s rat droppings in the cupboards and the closet-like bathroom is just as bad.

The ghostly part of him can sense the heavy stench of death in the room; people have died in this room. People have died in every room of this building, he thinks. They have died on the streets outside and in the alleys squeezed between them. He can feel it like a heavy fog in the air.

It is painfully nostalgic, a bittersweet feeling in his chest that he grimaces to.

When the last box is placed in his apartment, his parents offer to help unpack. They are hesitant to leave and Danny knows it, although he doesn’t know if it’s from empty nest syndrome or because it's Gotham. He thinks it might be both. He is their youngest child finally leaving home to a city known for its danger.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to stay behind, sweetie?” His mother asks, a frown she tries to hide settled in the creases of her face. She fiddles with her hands, a nervous habit Danny has since noticed when she feels truly unsure and doesn’t need to hide it. Hesitancy looms over her like a heavy cloud.

His dad jumps in hastily, splaying his hands and smiling painfully wide to hide the glistening in his eyes. “You’re mother’s right! We can help you get everything set up, champ. I could probably do something with that stove of yours to make it faster!” He says, his voice still booming like it always does even if there’s a stumble in his words.

It makes his heart squeeze, knowing just how much they care. It was hard last summer, telling him that he was the Phantom. Terrifying, actually. They couldn’t comprehend it. He hadn’t felt his heart beat that fast in years when he stood in front of them at the kitchen table and told them he was a halfa, begging them to believe that ghosts weren’t inherently evil.

His parents were people of science, however, and after much, much shock, they slowly came to terms with it. How could they not? The evidence was right in front of them. Their son was dead-alive, alive-dead. Somewhere stuck in the between. The tears they shed that night could fill a river, moving from the kitchen to the living room as Danny explains how he died.

(When Danny tells them that he died after a week Jason did, his mom and dad look horrified. His mom covers her mouth when he adds that it was his idea to go inside it, his dad looks ashy pale, gripping his pant legs so tight that his knuckles turn white. There is a conclusion coming to their minds that he can tell they don’t like.)

(“You’ve always hated our inventions, Danny.” Mom says in a hushed voice, and Danny winces at the wording, sinking into the back of the cushions in shame. He never thought that his parents noticed. Mom quickly grabs his arm, “No, no, there’s nothing to be ashamed of Danny. We were… perhaps too careless with our inventions, too enthusiastic. You had every right to hate the things we made when they had a tendency to… to malfunction.”)

(Malfunction is a delicate way of putting it, when Danny remembers every time they had to evacuate their old apartment complex because whatever half-baked creation his parents made inevitably blew up into ash and smoke. There were soot marks permanently stained into the ceiling.)

(Her hand slides down and grabs his, and she cups it in both of her hands, squeezing tightly. He forces himself to look up, and there is a look like her heart breaking when he looks into his mother’s eyes. “You’ve always avoided the lab after we moved, Danny. And you had every right to, so why on Earth did you ever think about going into the portal?”)

(Danny struggles to come up with an adequate answer, a way to verbalize what came over him that day five years ago. The answer is there, hanging in the air like a knot in a noose. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.)

(Finally, with a tongue made of lead, he shrugs lamely and looks away. “I didn’t know there was an on button inside it.” He mumbles, and despite being the truth it feels like a lie. But that is the truth. He didn’t know there was an on button inside it. So he didn’t care what happened.)

(Something dulls in mom’s eyes, like she thought of something else that Danny hadn’t said. Her eyes shimmer, and she squeezes them shut, breathing in so deep that it shakes. And then she pulls him into a hug, a hand burying into his hair and pressing him close. “It must have hurt so much, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”)

(It is something that Danny doesn’t expect her to say, like missing the last step of the stairs. It startles him so much he laughs this short, bark of a thing. He feels his dad press against his back and wrap his big arms around them, his nose pushed into his hair.)

(Because yeah. Yeah, it did hurt. It hurt more than anything else he’s ever felt before. It had torn him apart and sewn him back together again, only to rinse and repeat. The pain was nothing he ever spoke to Sam or Tucker about, and it was something they never brought up. No, that’s not true. If they ever brought it up, Tucker would call it a zap. As if Danny only experienced a mild static shock. Like it was painless. It’s a pretty lie that Danny lets him and Sam believe.)

(His eyes sting and water immediately wobbles into his vision, coming up with such a force that he doesn’t even need to blink before it spills over. “Yeah.” He forces out, voice unexpectedly rough and cracking. “Yeah, it- it hurt. A lot.”)

He tells them about fighting the Lunch Lady a month later. He tells them about finding Jason. It comes spilling out like a waterfall. “I found him, mom.” He says, holding onto her tight while she keeps him tucked under his chin like a little kid. The secret of Jason being Robin stays hidden under his tongue, it is not his secret to tell. Not his identity to expose. He grips her tighter. “I found him, mom. Right there in the Ghost Zone, and he was my Jason. He wasn’t an echo or a— an imprint of him.”

Mom is silent; quiet and attentive, and so is dad, who rubs his large hands up and down Danny’s spine in an attempt to soothe him. It only works a little. Danny breathes in like a gasp as the urge to cry overcomes him again. He always avoids talking about Jason, his grief is like a never-healing scab that can be picked off at any time. It is ingrained into his core.

“And then I lost him.” He forces out, a sob layering under his words that he chokes on and swallows. The hand on his back stills, and he can feel mom and dad breathe in like a question. He turns his head and pushes it into mom’s shoulder. “He disappeared, mom. Just— just gone.”

“And he didn’t move on.” He says, voice snarling like teeth biting before his mom can ask, because he knows that’s what she was going to ask. It’s what Sam and Tucker asked when he came to them in tears hours after he found Jason gone. It’s what Jazz said when he finally told her about it. It’s what every one of his ghosts asked when he told them about it and begged for their help.

Danny grits his teeth and tries not to dig his nails into mom’s clothes as a fresh wave of tears run down his face. “His haunt is still there. If Jason really moved on it would have disappeared with him. That’s how it works. But it’s still in the zone, so Jason’s out there I just don’t know where.”

(Sam once asks him why Danny didn’t just move on from it a year after Jason’s disappearance. She asked him why he didn’t give it up. Danny nearly saw red, and nearly bit her head off for it. It was incomprehensible to him to just stop looking for Jason, to give up. Not when he was out in the zone somewhere. Because he had to be in the zone.)

(Danny once tried to take Jason through the portal with him, and much like what happened to Kitty, it didn’t work. Jason was too tied to the ghost zone to leave.)

(Some bonds are just unbreakable, he thinks. Bonds forged through blood and time and trust, and when you’re on the streets of Gotham, you hoard what little trust you have in someone like a dragon with its gold. It is scarcely given and fiercely kept.)

“I’ve been looking for him.” Danny whispers when talking becomes too hard for him, when it runs the risk of him crying. “When- when I’m not fighting ghosts or, or in school or with my friends, I’ve been looking for him.” He has explored the Ghost Zone in every reach he can. He has met so many people. He’s met the ghosts of aliens from planets in every corner of the galaxy. He has met gods or god-like beings and their disciples.

He’s met famous scholars and writers (he’s gotten the autographs of all of Jason’s favorite writers). He has found entire cities that have so much life in it that it's been permanently etched into the ghost zone, like a mirror version of itself.

He’s visited the ghostly vision of Gotham so many times, and he avoids the imprint of Wayne Manor like the plague. There are ghostly newspapers that he reads. There are the ghosts of Martha and Thomas Wayne in many of them.

Jason’s haunt connects to Wayne Manor, but it is also the street they grew up in. It is a small brick building with a door that leads to Jason’s room. A ghost knows when someone enters their haunt, it alerts them like a doorbell in the back of their mind. A foreign ecto-signature in a place drenched in your own.

Danny visits it every time he goes into the Ghost Zone. It’s always his first stop.

He tells his parents all of it. He tells them of the ghosts he’s met, of the places he’s seen. And when he feels brave, he tells them about Rath and the terror that his future self brings him. He keeps some details hidden, the ones that he can afford to keep without muddling up the story.

(Rath is a tall, spindly thing, like a funhouse mirror version of Danny himself. He has arms that are much too long and legs that are much too tall, with skinny fingers that extend into claws.He wears his suit the same as Danny does, with it partially undone and the sleeves wrapped around his waist.)

(There is a black hole in his chest that is much bigger than Danny’s own. It takes up his chest cavity and drips the same, viscous black liquid as the tears falling from his eyes. Danny never forgets his voice; a scraping, quiet thing like he’s screamed himself hoarse. Rath has a voice like goosebumps, and it haunts Danny like a bump in the night.)

Danny speaks and speaks and speaks until he can’t think of anything else to speak of. He is tired and sad, and it feels like his heart has been ripped out and rubbed raw again. And yet, he also feels so much better. Like a long heavy weight has been taken off his chest.

Yeah, last summer was hard. His parents walked on eggshells around him, and they forced themselves to unlearn their bias of ghosts. It was more than Danny could have ever dreamed of, and when they felt ready for it, they asked him more about the ghost zone.

He smiles sadly at his dad, “I think fixing the stove can be a priority another time, dad.” He says, watching him wilt and his smile fall. Jack Fenton was always so good at making himself look like a kicked puppy. “I can handle unpacking by myself, I promise.”

His parents still look so unsure, like they want to argue. Danny watches his mom purse her lips tightly, confliction running across her face like a datastream. She takes dad’s hand, squeezing their fingers together despite the droop in her shoulders.

“Oh, alright then, I suppose.” She relents, her hand placing on Jack’s arm. “I guess we could go, we’re just going to miss you so much, Danny.”

Tears seem to have won over his dad, and Jack Fenton sniffs back before he can cry properly. “Our little boy, all grown up.” He says, voice wobbling. It makes Danny laugh, and it makes his heart pang. His smile grows impossibly wider and so much fonder. “You’ve become such a kind, wonderful young man, Danno. We’re so proud of you.”

Danny laughs again, and it cracks. “You’re gonna make me cry, dad.” (He feels a welling of guilt in his gut that he ignores — he doesn’t feel like a kind man. He doesn’t feel like a good one either. Not with what he plans to do.)

His father holds out his arms in hopefulness, “One last hug for your old man before we head out?” He asks, mustering up a smile on his face.

Danny barrels into him, nearly knocking his dad over with an oomph. He’s as tall as him now, but he still feels little in his bear hugs. With arms wrapping around his middle, Danny hugs his father tight and breathes him in one last time.

“Careful there, Danno.” He laughs, patting Danny’s back roughly. “You’ll break my ribs with that ghostly strength of yours!” But he holds on just as tight.

Out of spite, Danny bends back and lifts him off his feet, laughing when Jack tenses up and nearly scrambles out of surprise. His mom laughs with him, stepping back to give them room for the few seconds that dad is in the air.

When it’s his mom’s turn, Danny has to hunch to hug her. Something bittersweet to him as she plants a kiss on his forehead and says that he’ll always be her baby. “Even if you do have that horrid smoking habit.” She adds on with a disapproving eyebrow raise.

Danny turns red in embarrassment, and walks them back to the GAV. Gothamites of all kinds slow to stop and boggle at the monstrous, road-illegal thing that is parallel-parked next to the curbside. In the past, Danny would have died with mortification to be seen with it. Now it just makes him laugh. Before he goes back into the apartment building, he buys a newspaper from a nearby convenience store.

The first thing he does when he gets back up to his room is one: make a mental note to buy a bicycle chain lock for the door. The locks jiggle and there are splinters along the side that show signs of it being broken into in the past. The second thing he does is pull his cigarettes out of his pocket and light one.

Danny starts to unpack with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, placing the newspaper he bought onto the counter. He has a cheap loveseat that he pushes off to the side, and he moves the boxes into the kitchen. It’s a matter of organization that Danny has to think about before he does anything.

It’s as he’s pushing the sofa up against the wall facing the windows that his phone rings a familiar tune: Sam. The phone is fished out before he can think about it and when he stares down at the screen, he realizes it's a facetime call.

He presses answer and walks over to prop his phone up onto the counter. The smiling faces of Sam and Tucker greet him, rather than just Sam. Immediately, Danny grins. “Hey Danny.” Sam greets, smiling a dark-painted lazy thing. From the background it looks like they’re in Tucker’s room. Sam is in Tucker’s desk chair, and Tucker is behind her, leaning against it. “Have you moved in yet?”

Danny pulls the cigarette from his mouth and huffs, a cloud of smoke following his breath. “Yeah! It’s a shithole.” He grins lopsidedly, and his feet carry him off to the side to allow Sam and Tucker view of his apartment. He lets thirty seconds pass, allowing the both of them to really see the rest of the room. And then he steps back into frame.

Sam and Tucker both look like they’re trying not to look judgemental, like they’re trying to hide a grimace that Danny sees anyway with the small turns at the corner of their mouths. He grins wider, mirth filling his lungs. “I know, it looks awful doesn’t it?”

“It’s— it’s not so bad.” Sam says with a strain in her voice, a forced smile on her face that tries to be reassuring. Tucker nods along readily, and he looks just as unsure as Sam does. Danny stifles laughter behind his teeth.

“No, no, it looks bad,” He takes a drag of his cigarette, shaking his head. “You can say it, I won’t get offended. It’s a fucking apartment in crime alley. Of course it looks bad.”

Sam remains silent, a rearing of her stubbornness showing itself. Tucker takes a different approach, and heaves a dramatic sigh of relief, slumping like a weight. “Okay, you’re right. It looks bad.” He frowns, “Sorry, man.”

While Danny snorts, Sam sighs. “Yeah, it looks bad. What even are those stains?” She asks, and both she and Tucker lean closer in tandem to the screen, eyes squinting at the floor behind him. Danny glances at the floor, and shrugs.

“Blood, probably.” He says, and while years in Amity Park have accustomed him to a clean environment, the desensitization of Gotham still remains. Tucker and Sam both make faces and lean away, as if the stain itself was capable of passing through to them. “Yeah, there are bullet holes in the walls.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to be there?” Tucker asks, a furrow appearing between his brows. He adjusts his glasses and leans against the chair. Sam is frowning heavily, and Danny can already see her thinking up of a new way to fix the problem.

“Oh, I never said this place was safe.” Danny tells him cheerily, taking a last hit of his cigarette before placing the dead stick onto the counter. He itches for another one. Instead he walks over to the shelf his parents brought in and starts moving it. “It’s Crime Alley, Tuck. Safe isn’t even in its vocabulary.”

Tucker and Sam look like they’ve both swallowed a lemon.

“But it’s where I want to be right now.” He says, grunting quietly when the shelf is against the wall he wants it to be, near the short hallway leading to the front door. He can push it in front of it if someone tries to break in. “And Crime Alley’s apartments are the only ones I can really afford right now without mooching off my parents, and I’d rather not depend on them.”

He can hear the disapproving hesitance from where he stands. And he ignores it.

Danny walks back into frame, lifting up a box onto the counter. He hums lightly, fingers run over the tape keeping it shut. “Why do you even want to be in Gotham, Danny?” Sam asks, and she sounds genuinely perplexed. Danny stills. “I thought this place only had bad memories for you.”

His blood turns cold, and like a dime being flipped his slow heartbeat fills his ears. “It does.” He replies automatically, before he can think. Shit, shit. He knows that Sam or Tucker would ask that question, and yet he still feels unprepared for it. His heart pulses quickly against his ribcage, knocking, asking him what he’s going to tell them that isn’t the truth.

Danny stammers, “I mean— I just— I guess I felt nostalgic.” He says, and it sounds like a weak defense. He looks away, finding himself instinctively scratching his jaw. A new tick of his when he’s nervous. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sam and Tucker both narrow their eyes at him.

He cannot tell them the real reason why he’s moved back to Gotham. He can’t tell them of the little secret and vow he told himself five years ago, the one that’s been left to fester and burn like an open wound close to his core. The one that, if he thinks too much about it, sends a searing hot electricity through him, filling him from crown to toe top-full of direst wrath.

(Danny was always the angrier one in the duo of Jason and Danny. He was always the one with glass in his mouth, cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world around them. His knuckles had more blood and bruises on it than skin, once upon a time. All because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He has grown from it, that fury has turned to a small simmering candle.) (But sometimes, sometimes it rears its head, and electricity will buzz under Danny’s skin. There is lightning before the thunder, the second before a fist pulled to punch lands, the spark before it becomes a blaze.)

He stumbles over his words, and then sighs long and low, drooping his head. “I… was thinking that I can’t avoid this place forever.” He says, and the best lies always have the truth in it. Because it’s not a lie, not completely. But it’s not close enough to the truth either. “And that maybe if I came back, I’d be able to do something about those bad memories. Make them better or make it hurt less.”

Like wool over their eyes, it fools Sam and Tucker. Their narrowed eyes soften, and Danny feels like a snake is in his lungs as they both adopt their own versions of gentleness on their faces. “Oh, Danny.” Sam breathes out, and the snake squeezes, “Of course, we understand.”

Tucker nods, smiling at him. “Yeah, bro, that’s really brave of you. I know it can’t be easy coming back.” He says, “Maybe you can reconnect with the Waynes again, you always thought well of Mister Wayne whenever you came back from visiting.”

Danny smiles weakly, the gesture cutting into his cheeks like a knife. Perhaps he could. He was still upset with Bruce for hiding Jason’s killer from him. But he doesn’t hate him. Maybe five years ago, he did, when the death of Jason was still fresh in his mind and freshly bleeding in his heart. Now he just doesn’t know what to think of him. He was Batman. Jason was Robin, and the Joker killed Robin.

It would need to be something he’d have to speak to Bruce about in person, he thinks, in order to resolve it. To hear his judgment on it and make an opinion from there. Danny has learned in the last five years, much to Jazz’s smug delight, that talking to people about something he was upset about did make him feel better.

The conversation slips on from there into something more light, more breathable. And while they talk, Danny unpacks. He sets up his bed in the corner of the room, adjacent to the windows, and unpacks his cheap TV and table stand. It’s directly across from the couch, in front of the windows. He puts up knicks and knacks he’s collected over the years on the shelves.

When he puts up the curtains, he notices that more than one frame jiggles loosely. Sam makes a comment on the musty stains permanently dyed into the glass, and Danny talks about getting something to fix the cracks. Gotham winters can get brutal, and even if he can withstand the cold, doesn’t mean everything else in his apartment can.

“Oh, watch this.” He says halfway through unpacking, and pulls out a stick of thick white chalk from a box. “This is something I learned from Clockwork a while back; I think he knew I was going to move to Gotham.” He grins sillily, popping into the camera frame to show them. “I wonder how?”

Sam rolls her eyes, smiling while Tucker huffs. “It’s not like he’s the Master of Time and can see all past, present, and future.” Tucker snarks.

Danny hums lightly, curt like he isn’t sure he believes Tucker, and walks to a piece of bare wall not yet blocked by furniture. He starts to draw on it. The chalk shimmers with faint ectoplasm on the wall.

“Uhh…” Tucker’s voice cuts through, “Are you sure you should be doing that? Won’t you get in trouble for that?”

“There are bullet holes in the plaster, Tucker.” Danny retorts dryly, arching his hand to make a big circle. “I don’t think the landlord is gonna care if I get washable chalk on his walls.” Inside the circle, he inscribes the symbols of the Infinite Realms. “I don’t think he’d be able to see it anyways, he was really old.”

When he is done, Danny steps back to admire his work. It’s not bad, he thinks, for a lack of practice. He tosses the chalk off to the side, it lands on the couch and rolls back into the cushions. Ectoplasm heats under his hand, slowly glowing from his fingertips before stretching down the rest of his palm.

Danny’s fingers press against the wall, into the center of the circle. The result is immediate, ectoplasm is siphoned off his hand and into the circle. It glows, and then swirls. He steps off to the side for Sam and Tucker to watch its transformation. The circle fills with a swirling pool of ectoplasm, like a smaller version of the basement portal, and then it warps and stretches.

It fills out a rectangular shape, shifting like taffy being pulled this way and that, before settling into a solid shape. It solidifies, and instead of a wall there is a glowing purple door, warped in nature and seemingly shifting like a trick of the eyes. He can hear the gentle hum of the zone standing next to it, and can see the carving of the circle in the wood.

He gestures dramatically, grinning from ear to ear. “Ta-da~” He sings, “A door to my haunt! For whenever I feel like visiting it.” He pats the wood, making a strange thunk-thunk sound. “And then watch this.”

Danny touches the circle again, and the door twists and recedes like water going down a drain. The circle flashes bright green, and then fades into nothing on the wall, invisible to the naked eye. “I can hide it whenever I want! So if I ever invite someone over—” which he doubts, “—I won’t have to worry about them asking, ‘Hey Danny? Why is there a creepy fucking door in your studio apartment?’”

He gets a pair of laughs for his efforts, and Danny grins wider.

Sam and Tucker have to end the call when Danny is nearly done unpacking, leaving him alone with only his thoughts and the Gotham ambience outside. There were only a few boxes left, and they promise to call him tomorrow. He tells them that they better keep that promise.

The silence that follows after they leave feels somberly, as if the reality of moving in has finally set in and filled the air with its loneliness. With its change. Finally, Danny lets the strangeness of moving back to Gotham hit him when he reaches the last box, and he stops to take another smoke break to let it settle.

It feels so strange to be back in Gotham, he thinks. He’s all grown up, or almost grown up. He can vote and pay taxes, but he doesn’t feel much older than he was at fourteen. There’s a disconnect that makes him feel sad.

There are cars running outside, driving by. He can only catch glimpses of them, his apartment faces an alleyway. There are dogs barking in the distance, strays he bets. It’s already dark out, and he wonders if he looks out the window he would see the bat-signal shining through the night and staining the permanent cloud that hangs over Gotham.

Bruce would be so disappointed if he learned the reason for Danny’s return to Gotham. But Danny’s not here for him. He’s here for someone far more important. And like that, the simmering anger that has tucked itself into the furthest corners of his heart starts slipping through. His heart has teeth, ready to strike and snarl and bite.

He crushes the cigarette in his hand and throws it away. When he opens the last box, it is with hands that tremble and with a face of stone. With a delicateness he does not feel, he reaches in and pulls a corkboard from the box. On the corner frame is a small, near inconspicuous carving of another ghost rune.

Danny hangs it up on an empty space on the wall, out of sight from the window. It’s plain, and he has nothing to pin to it. He presses the small rune on the corner, pushing ectoplasm into it. Unlike the door, it does not twist and warp and shape itself into something new. Instead it bursts into green flame, eating away at the board and revealing the same thing underneath it, just in dark blue-black-purple.

Now this board, this board Danny has something to pin to it. The newspaper he bought earlier sits abandoned on the counter, and Danny unrolls it with something like viciousness in his chest. On the front page is an image of a damaged street, and above it is titled: “JOKER STRIKES AGAIN, 3 DEAD AND 27 INJURED”

Danny rips out the first page, he rips out every mention of him. His hands shake and threaten to crumple the paper as he turns back to the board, there is hot blood pounding in his ears. There is an impending sense of finally in his chest, like a setting sun giving the stage to a starless night. There is a stern set in his jaw, five years of festering rage rushing forth like a tidal wave, threatening to make his vision swim.

It would be so easy, he thinks, to go out as Phantom right now and hunt the clown down. It would only take a night. All it would take is a night, and then he could sink his hands into the Joker’s chest and rip out his heart where he stood. It would be so easy.

The thought alone forces Danny to stop as he is hit with another rush of fury, really making his head and vision swim. Thorny vines wrap around his throat, making it hard to breathe. He stares at a spot on the wall until the shaking passes.

If he wants to be discreet about this, then he can’t do it now. Even if he wants to. He doesn’t want witnesses. He doesn’t want an audience. He made a mistake, telling Red Hood about his plan. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all. But he can only hope that the Hood hasn’t mentioned it to Bruce. He knows it hasn’t been long since they started working together. He hopes that the Hood has already forgotten about it.

He pins the newspaper clippings onto the black-blue-board, and stands back. It’s bare now, but it won’t be forever.

He presses the circle again, and the pinboard reverts back to its original blank state.

-----

Was I expecting to make a third part?? No. No I was not. I was also not expecting to make an entire google doc filled with summaries for short story ideas about this au that all tie into each other so that way if i DO continue this i have a skeleton pathway to follow rather than making everything up from scratch and potentially cornering myself

you can find this on ao3 or on tumblr 1 2 :)

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #childhood friends au #cw swearing #cw smoking #im calling them short stories bc if i call them chapters i might intimidate myself #fun fact every single chapter will have a crane wives lyric on it i am DETERMINED #i hope yall are subscribed to this on ao3 bc i almost didnt post this on tumblr #the fentons being good parents were a surprise to me too but also i never really planned on them being BAD parents #okay so they appear as negligent in the first post but we'll just call that a plothole #i had the idea that danny was the angrier one out of the duo earlier today and it felt like an epiphany #there's no guarantee of a next part but yk immm kinda hoping there is #on the docs the ending bullet point for this chapter was #'make it feel like a tv show where the seemingly inconspicuous and friendly character has something sinister up their sleeve'#WE know that danny's not inconspicuous in the least he's been thinking of this murder for the last five years. but nobody but red hood know #i had to come up with a in-story reason why danny doesnt kill the joker NOW but my out-of-story excuse is: there'd be no tension otherwise #its about the BUILD UP. Its about the RISING TENSION. Its about KNOWING that danny is planning to kill the Joker but you dont know WHEN #its about knowing that something is going to explode but never knowing when #i made the doc yesterday and spent my entire pluralism for educators class going thru the crane wives albums and looking up the lyrics and #matching them to the *checks doc* 18 short story prompts i have prepared #i am still missing one :((#its the tim and danny story and i have NOTHING PLANNED FOR THEM. i cant think of a thing for them to bond over :(( so i cant match a CW son #even DICK has a story and that was also a surprise #my favorite lines: He was always the one with glass in his mouth cutting his teeth and tongue so that he could spit blood at the world #aND danny slapping his door like a used car salesman and going 'now people wont ask why i have a creepy fucking door in my studio aptm :)'

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dazais-guardian-angel · 2 years ago

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Dazai truly has become Oda in every way imaginable now. :’ ) the final words he gives to Sigma are the exact same words Oda gives to Dazai in the original scene Asagiri wrote for the end of the Dark Era stage play, 後は頼んだよ, “I will leave the rest to you.”

And I really love the progression of the way his eyes look in this chapter, and how Sigma is allowed to have this moment of questioning and rebelling against all the faith Dazai had naturally been leading him to place in him up to this point, which is what I hoped would happen. He’s been confused ever since Dazai first chose him, and everything he’s ever known about how everyone sees/treats him turned upside down by Dazai’s words and actions, and just when he’s finally started to feel like he’s found some hope and lowered his guard, Dazai pulls him back underwater, instantly reinforcing all of Sigma’s trust issues and reinforcing that he should never believe in anyone, because (he thinks) everyone lives to manipulate other people. Dazai’s dark eyes here reinforce that, too, and the other panels around this point where they look white and hollow and demonic, all like Fyodor’s. He appears like an evil, looming force pulling him back under, trying to kill him, when Sigma is so close to the freedom of the air he desperately wants (aka free from pain, which is what he’s been seeking his whole life).

But then Dazai makes this face, and the first one I posted above, and Sigma understands, even without words, that Dazai doesn’t have evil intent: on the contrary, he actually is bound and determined to save his life -- and the light in his eyes comes out through this determination and kindness, arguably the most light we’ve ever seen his eyes have in the entire manga (in the “I leave the rest to you” panel too). The “No” could be Dazai wordlessly telling him to not leave the water, but my first assumption was that it was Sigma telling himself no, stopping his own train of thought about Dazai being the same as Fyodor and someone he shouldn’t have trusted -- he soon realizes why Dazai stopped him, and that he’s still going to try to save him, that he wasn’t wrong about him, and it’s all because Dazai’s earnest expressions get through to him.

And it’s just so heartwarming to see how far Dazai has come. :’ ) He tried so hard to save Sigma (doing the most physical action we’ve ever seen him do, really), did his best to be reassuring and comforting to him afterwards, and then reaffirmed his promise to ensure he escaped Meursault alive, his final words to Sigma echoing Oda’s and his last action being to save an orphan, just like Oda did in his last moments. Obviously Dazai isn’t actually going to die, he’ll be saved somehow, but I do think as of right now he really does think this is the end for him, and that he didn’t foresee the elevator dropping -- he was examining the wires a few chapters ago because he thought he might need to know how to open the doors in case Fyodor pulled an uno reverse, hence why he looks more annoyed than shocked when the water starts, but here, when the drop collision sequence is initiated, he looks genuinely shook in comparison. There’d be no reason for him to give the thumbs up if he knew more danger was on the way, either; that’d just be cruel. No, I don’t think he saw this coming, and it’s important that that turns out to be the case: it’s important that he spent what he believes to have been his last moments saving someone like Oda wanted for him, and doing what Oda would have done in the same situation. That doesn’t mean that it’s okay that Dazai throws his life away so easily, and cares so little for his own safety; he still has a long way to go in that regard. But it’s still so beautiful to see how much he’s changed, and how much he’s truly begun to embody Oda and his legacy; the fact that he messed up and miscalculated, because Dazai isn’t infallible, but in turn didn’t hesitate to use his last moments to save Sigma. Oda would be so proud for everything he did here. :’ ) 💖

There are a lot of options for how Dazai will be saved, and by who, but personally I hope (and I kind of expect) that Sigma chooses to not give up on him and ultimately plays a role in saving his life, to return the favor and repay him for his kindness. Not only would it be a beautiful way to initiate Sigma’s ADA entrance exam as people have said, but it would bring the Dazai > Atsushi > Sigma chain full circle: Dazai saved Atsushi at the start of the series, allowing him to (spiritually) save Sigma at sky casino thanks to the growth fostered in him by Dazai, and now finally, Sigma could potentially save Dazai thanks to Atsushi kickstarting his own growth (and Dazai continuing it). Fyodor is overly cocky right now and so tunnel-visioned on killing Dazai, it’s possible that he has no idea that Sigma managed to escape the elevator and is now a wild card; even if Sigma doesn’t go as far as killing Fyodor himself (which I don’t want, tbh; that’s endgame stuff arcs down the line and imo Nikolai and Dazai should be the ones involved with that), he could throw a wrench in the jailbreak duel, and help Dazai and Chuuya get out alive. It would be poetic, and only fitting, for Fyodor to underestimate and be outdone by the kind of person Dazai told him is the strongest in chapter 77 -- a self-proclaimed “ordinary man” -- who could only have the strength to take such action thanks to the chain of kindness that Oda originally started. 💖

#bungou stray dogs #bsd 106.5 #meta #this chapter was literally everything i could have wanted i am SO EMOTIONAL #I WILL NEVER BE OVER IT #ASAGIRI GIVING ME LITERALLY EVERYTHING I EVER COULD HAVE WANTED #DAZAI HAS GROWN SOOOO MUCH HE'S BECOME SO MUCH LIKE ODA I COULDN'T BE MORE PROUD 😭😭😭💖💖💖#as soon as i saw that big panel of his face i was like........ he looks like oda......... ASAGIRI I SEE YOUUUUUU #AND THE FINAL WORDS #I SEE YOUUUUUUUUUU #ISTG IF DAZAI THINKS ABOUT ODA WHEN HE THINKS HE'S GONNA DIE BEFORE HE GETS SAVED I WILL SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUST #ASAGIRI PLEASE THIS IS THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY I WILL CRYYYYYYY 😭🥺🥹💖#Dazai was so much like Oda here and Sigma looked just like Atsushi in that one panel DONT TOUCH MEEEE #THIS WHOLE CHAPTER WAS SO PERFECT #I NEED SIGMA TO SAVE HIM NOW #the longest chapter we've gotten in AGES and it was a banger god bless #tbh i really needed this after season 4 lmao i needed a reminder of why i love this series so much :''''') something to soothe my rage #asagiri saw my bitterness at anime sigma and was like 'here u go babe i got your sigma and dazai and oda feast'#probably means next month will be short again and a pov change lmao 🥲💔#gonna enjoy this while it lasts #anyway i was really happy to see that moment of Sigma getting mad even if it didn't last long (and for a beautiful reason)#because he Deserved that #(because that's what i wrote in my fic and i feel vindicated now even if that wasn't the main focus of this chapter looool oops-)

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fictionadventurer · 10 months ago

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Elizabeth Gaskell has the kind of brilliance that makes you forget how brilliant she is until you come back to her work after reading inferior authors. Her type of talent is understated skill that does everything so well that it looks easy.

She has prose that's descriptive without being flowery. Plots that take their time but also keep pulling you along. She writes about everyday life in a way that makes it enthralling without over-romanticizing it. She can take what would be stock characters in the hands of other writers and explore their upbringing and history so thoroughly that they become real, nuanced individuals. And she does it all so simply that you barely even notice how much talent it takes to write like that.

#books #elizabeth gaskell #whether intentionally or not it seems like january has become the month of the gaskell novel #it started with wives and daughters in 2021 #n&s in 2022 #mary barton last year #and now ruth #there's just something about the bright clear january light that sets off her writing to perfection #and with this book the descriptions of january's beauty made it especially fitting #i'm only three chapters in and shocked by how much i'm loving it #i'd read some less-than-impressive short pieces last year that made me wonder if i liked her as much as i thought #and then this book hits me in the face with 'oh yeah she's brilliant'#i think it's that her talents are novel-writing talents #she's not well-suited to write concise vivid moments #she needs to linger #draw out nuances #tease out backstories #draw threads together #when she gets the chance to do that she's incomparable #the best that realism has to offer #since i'm only three chapters in there's no telling how i'll like the book as a whole #but for now she's drawn me in

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jackshiccup · 11 months ago

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officially halfway through book 12 and idk if i’m gonna make it u guys idk if i’m ready for whatever storm is coming …..

#I’M SCAAAAAAARED #CH 13 IS LITERALLY CALLED #A VERY SHORT CHAPTER THAT BEGINS WELL… AND ENDS BADLY #cressida has GOT to stop giving me heart attacks #this is like the last stretch of climbing mount everest it is SO hard im abt to pass asay #hhhhhhhh im nottttttt ready #jackshiccup text #httyd book 12 #httyd books #how to fight a dragon’s fury #see u all on the other side….

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whetstonefires · 2 years ago

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you've been reblogging a lot of posts about time loops recently.... is there something you want to tell us this time around

i saw the one about intentional time loops and the massive stress pileup pressure to achieve perfection right after @tuesdayisfordancing's comment in my notes about the compelling 0-pressure fantasy of being trapped in a timeloop, and i felt this juxtaposition deserved to be presented to my followers. so you could all contemplate the philosophical whatsit with me ig.

also i read a really disappointing Groundhog Day premise fanfic yesterday.

#ask #hoc est meum #Anonymous #somehow they managed to spend 6 chapters producing less compelling emotional scenario #than Bill Murray #opposite macdowell's rather underwritten female lead #despite starting with the huge buff of being 1) a fanfic not obligated to adhere to the many demands of filmmaking #and 2) starring known characters i was already invested in #i was the whole time like 'how are you making this so boring???'#i actually have an unfinished original short story #about a superhero whose superpower is secretly resetting time back to when he last woke up whenever he dies #and the number of levels with which this has fucked with his head #i keep trying to figure out how to resolve the setup

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umbracirrus · 5 months ago

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WIP Wednesday! 💛

I actually scheduled this WIP post yesterday to be posted today just because we had a new internet provider set up today and I didn't know if there would be any issues. Luckily, it seems to be running great! Keeping it scheduled to post though!

A decently long WIP this week, with both Elyse and Balgruuf getting some sense talked into them after their argument about her fine. I'm probably posting a good chunk of a chapter of The Perfect Storm here 😅

I'm tagging quite a few of you this time!! Hehe :3 But of course no obligations to share if you don't want to! Tagging @thequeenofthewinter, @pitiable-arisen, @throughtrialbyfire, @bostoniangirl21, @your-talos-is-problematic, and anyone who wants to share their WIPs! 💛

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“Odahviing told me that you said that Jarl of Ahrolsedovah was helping you, protecting you by giving you shelter in his palace.” Paarthurnax stated, his words spoken to her, though it came across as more of an observation than anything. “Has this now changed, Dovahkiin?”

Elyse scowled frustratedly as she huddled against the wall atop the Throat of the World, her borrowed and oversized clothing given to her by Arngeir from the surplus donations left for the Greybeards held tightly against her body. “He was,” she grumbled, watching as the old dragon slowly moved to shield her from the most frigid of the winds. “Until he took matters into his own hands. The person I was trying to hide from decided to try and fine me for... reasons. I responded by ignoring it, because I didn’t commit any crime! Is wanting independence and the ability to make my own decision a crime?!”

Paarthurnax’s eyes narrowed towards her with how heated she was getting, so she took a few deep breaths before tilting her head back and sinking down into the snow beneath her. “But it was Balgruuf who took that from me instead, by handling my fine.”

“Did he tell you why he did so?”

“... N-Not really, no...”

That was a lie, and she knew it. Paarthurnax likely did too. He’d yelled that she was endangering Whiterun. But she didn’t know any more than that – how exactly was she endangering the hold? Or was he just frustrated that she hadn’t done anything and used that as an excuse?

“Then how do you know that he was, in your own words... ‘taking matters into his own hands’?” The dragon’s head lowered towards her, in a manner reminiscent of when she was a child and her father would kneel down to talk to her to let her know that what she had done was either wrong or reckless but didn’t want her to think that she was in trouble. “Perhaps... He thought that he was helping. That you would be safer if he were to do so. There are many questions which can be asked... But can only be answered by him.”

Elyse wavered in her frustration towards Balgruuf, before shaking her head, allowing it to bubble up once more. “It doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t discuss it with me first.”

“Hm. That is... True, yes, but would you have done it yourself even if he were to discuss the issue with you?”

She knew that he was correct, and frowned as she folded her arms over. “I... I don’t like burdening others with my issues. It just drags others into the chaos that has been my life since I made that stupid decision to leave Cyrodiil years ago. Balgruuf took on enough of them by letting me into his home...”

“Have you considered... That sharing your burdens may make them lighter? This Jarl seems to be looking out for your best interests, Dovahkiin. That is not something to be taken lightly. The Greybeards have also spoken to me of this Jarl... this Balgruuf. When you brought war to High Hrothgar to stop the unruly eldest, he was one of the few who did not want violence to dictate the peace. Who did not throw vitriol or bitter words. If this is true, I doubt that malicious intentions are behind his actions.” Paarthurnax rose once more, allowing the frozen winds to once more brush against her, and forcing her to stand up and conjure a small flame in her hands to counter some of the cold. “You should talk to him... That will help with clearing your mind and easing your burden. Perhaps the same will go for him too. I would imagine that he would be worried for you, as would everyone else that you left behind.”

As much as she wanted to argue back with him, something stopped her. Her anger had fizzled out, and had been replaced with a gut-wrenching anxiety. People would be worried. It was the middle of winter, she had left on her own without a word of where she was going... And she had left in what was worse than a bad mood. For all that they knew, she could have gotten herself killed.

She needed to get back to Whiterun.

“Sahvot, Dovahkiin. Have faith. Things may not be as bad as you currently perceive them to be.”

---

"I don't know what you are expecting me to say, Balgruuf. That you want me to pity you over this situation? That you want me to give you a little pat on the back and say 'there there'? Because if you do, I am most certainly not-"

"What? No, Irileth, I just-" Balgruuf took a deep breath as he ran his hands down his face. "Look, I am just trying to get my head around this all," he stated, starting to pace back and forth across his bedroom. He hadn't even wanted to be there in the first place, but after being caught in his study with some documents which needed reading through by Frothar – who had promptly tattled – he had been kicked out of there to get some rest. "Surely not having a bounty which was getting bigger by the week is a goodthing? I don't get what about that was enough to make Elyse angry or leave the way that she did!"

Irileth let out a frustrated puff of air from her nose. "Because you made an important decision about her without her. It's damn well obvious!"

"I needed to protect Whiterun-"

"And you promised to protect her."

"I-" His throat felt dry as not a single word came to him at that direct statement which made him freeze in his tracks. When he had made the decision to pay off that fine, his intentions had been to do achieve both of those statements – protecting both Whiterun and the Dragonborn. Getting Ulfric off both of their backs had to have been beneficial, he had been certain of it. The looming threat of an attack had been on their doorstep, it had been pushed back to give them space to breathe. But now… he was feeling uncertain. Uneasy.

"You welcomed her into Dragonsreach so that she could be safe."

His jaw tensed as he turned his back to his housecarl, and pressed his hands into the top of the drawers which were to his side. For a moment, he took in a few deep breaths to calm himself, in the hopes that the point had been made and he could take a moment to just think.

"For all that she knows now, all it takes is Ulfric Stormcloak throwing his demands about for him to get what he wants."

Irileth's words were both eye-opening yet horrifying. He had always appreciated her bluntness and her ability to assess a situation, but hearing it all directed at him now…

"How long will it be until you hand her over to him, saying that it's for the good of Whiterun?"

He had messed up.

"I would never-!"

"And how would she know that, Balgruuf?!"

#meg has done some writing #dragonborn oc elyse #balgruuf x dragonborn #fic - the perfect storm #i loved the contrast between these two scenes - essentially the same conversation (i.e. think about what the other was thinking)#but whilst paarthurnax is being calmer in an attempt to make elyse think rationally; irileth is giving balgruuf a verbal ass-kicking #this is probably going to be my last wip for the perfect storm for a short while because i want to have a few things hidden up my sleeve #for the 'kinda couple's first major argument even though they're technically not a couple yet' part of the fic #and though i have some future events planned out I need to figure out where I go after this #so once these chapters are posted it may be on a bit of a break as I pull my plans together in a more coherent manner #but I have other stuff for my beloved idiots in the pipeline and have actually been working on seeking on the sun quite a bit!

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