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senorabond · 7 months

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Rumor Has It (Peña x f!reader x Pike)

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Pena x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 1 Summary: You've recently transferred from a promising job in D.C. to Texas when DEA Special Agent Javier Peña approaches you with his current case. Rumor has it you have an in with the FBI art crimes unit, and the DEA could use your skills and connections on a suspected narcos money laundering case. You need to do well on this case to prove yourself, but you're not sure Marcus Pike will even help after the way you left.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Mature-to-Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex and masturbation (f), previous sexual relationship, office romance, references to gossip and slut shaming, sexist/patriarchal bullshit, daydreaming about "little Peña"

Reader/Character Notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

a/n: I started writing this thinking it'd be a quick and dirty PWP, but then the plot took over and I'm not sorry. Time/setting is pretty loose. This wasn't "officially" beta'd - all errors and weird formatting are my own. However, a very special thanks and kisses for @azure-waves and @kilamonster for reading early versions of this! 😘 Additional author's notes at the end.

Masterlist

Rumor Has It: Chapter One

Javier Peña thinks he’s hot shit. He struts about the office like he runs the place and conducts briefings like he's holding his own personal court. It'd be easier to chalk it up to pure ego and ignore him if he didn't actually have such an impressive resume to back it up. Unfortunately, that means putting up with yet another cocksure male flirting and fucking his way through the office your respective agencies share. At least he's easy on the eyes.

Since moving to Houston six months ago for a new position with the U.S. Customs and Border Protection, you'd clocked at least four broken hearts in Agent Peña's wake. In his defense, there are far more smiles than tears in the women's restroom when his name comes up in whispered conversation. You haven't heard this much gossip about a single guy since your senior year of high school when it was rumored that three cheerleaders got knocked up by the same football player as a pregnancy pact. For the record, only two girls were actually pregnant, and the alleged father ran off with the team’s water boy a few years out of college. They made a cute couple.

Favorite topics of conversation among Peña's admirers are his tight pants, who he's purportedly slept with, how good he must be in the sack, and contending reports of how big his dick actually is. Just that day you overheard one guy in the breakroom swear to a colleague that he'd seen ‘little Peña’ twitch while the DEA agent was briefing the latest developments in his investigation. You barely managed to hide your snort in your coffee, but had to admit the mental image was intriguing.

While not morally opposed to sleeping with somebody in the same office (that'd make you a hypocrite), you personally wouldn't want to risk the potential fallout of fooling around with someone as high profile as Agent Peña. The unfortunate reality is that women always bear the brunt of those consequences, and you aren't interested in putting your career on the line for a good dicking. As much as you may desperately need one.

You'd been out a few times since moving to the area, but calling those disasters “dates” would be too generous. One such encounter seemed like it was going well, until the guy answered a call from his mother, got into a shouting match with her over the phone, then cried over the bread basket. You promptly excused yourself and blocked his number from the cab ride home.

Since that night, the only dates you’d had were with some quality home entertainment and your trusty vibrator. The Magic Wand hadn’t failed you yet. Last night you enjoyed a delicious orgasm while watching a particularly excellent video featuring two men worshiping a woman’s body. That lucky bitch. It’d been way too long since you’d gotten laid, and it was starting to take its toll. Even with the regular, self-attained orgasms, you'd begun losing focus at work. Your mind frequently wanders into sexy daydreams about impossible scenarios in the war room.

At your desk, you think back to what the guy said in the breakroom about little Peña and giggle to yourself. That'd be a sight to see, and would certainly liven up a boring case briefing. Your thoughts drift, and a fantasy begins to take shape.

Agent Peña stands at the end of the conference table, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. One hand on his hip holds his charcoal suit jacket back; the other gestures behind him to the slides displaying the latest developments in his investigation. The lights are dimmed but his signature tight pants don’t leave much to the imagination. Your gaze takes him in slowly, lazily almost. Expressive eyebrows give way to deep set brown eyes. An aquiline nose slopes to meet his trademark mustache, and his lips make the perfect pout as he speaks. The broad motherfucker has a chest and shoulders for days, and his neck is almost too big for his collared shirt. When he moves his arms, the sleeves of his suit jacket are drawn tighter around his biceps. Down, down your eyes go, over the plane of his abdomen, past the unobtrusive belt buckle, and settle on the obvious bulge down the left side of his crotch. You can’t help but admire the outline of Peña’s cock; it twitches, and saliva floods your mouth as you squeeze your thighs tightly, your body responding of its own accord. Agent Peña’s timbre changes and you realize he’s said your name - you look up at him like a deer in headlights. “Like what you see?”

You hear your name again, but his mouth hasn't moved beyond a knowing smirk…

“Hel-lo?” You shake yourself out of your daydream only to realize somebody has actually been saying your name.

To your abject horror, the real Javier Peña stands next to your desk, a manila folder in his hands and a quizzical brow lifted in your direction.

“What? Yeah? What do you want?”

The questions fly out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. To further your mortification, you can feel heat blooming across your chest and face. He knows - he has to know - what is going through your head. Someone must have turned on the heat in the building, it's sweltering all of a sudden.

Peña shifts his weight onto his left leg, his right knee bent slightly. “I’m Javier Peña with the DEA -”

“I know.” Again, with the blurting.

“Right.” He works his jaw slightly. “I was told you were the one to come talk to.”

You focus on the manila folder in his hands and refuse to let your traitorous eyes dip any lower. They're just hands, for Christ’s sake. Large, strong hands.

“Yeah? About what?” Is your voice breathier than usual?

Peña fidgets with the folder, then leans over and drops it in front of you. His thumb swipes at the corner of his mouth and he places both hands on his hips. There’s an agitated tension in his stance, and he shifts from foot to foot like a horse ready to bolt.

“You’re with Customs,” he says, as though his meaning was obvious.

It's your turn to lift a brow at him.

“Yep. That I am.”

It’s easier to pull yourself together with something tangible in front of you to focus on. You flip the folder open and start leafing through its contents. There are copies of bank transactions, transcripts from what you assume are wiretaps, and surveillance photos featuring two Latino men in well tailored suits outside a storefront, one of them holding a briefcase. This was business, this was work – you could do this.

Peña clears his throat and smoothes down his mustache, the fingers of his left hand drumming on his hip. You wonder if he’s always this twitchy or if something could be making him nervous.

“My investigation is centered around these two men,” he waves a hand vaguely at the photos. “They run the stateside money laundering operations for some heavy cartel hitters, but they like to throw in some legitimate business dealings as well just to muddy the waters.”

He pauses to clear his throat.

“Uh huh…,” you prompt, looking up in time to see him tugging at his fitted collar. This was starting to get interesting. It’s obvious he came over to ask for your help with his case, but he seems to be doing everything he can to avoid saying those three little words, ‘I need help.’ What a typical man.

Leaning back in your chair with the folder and its contents in hand, you find it much easier to take in the man standing before you. It's no longer like staring into the sun, however sexy that sun may be. The Great Javier Peña, reduced to an average fed. You can’t help but be a bit disappointed.

Peña sucks in a breath like he's going to keep speaking, then wordlessly proffers his hand to ask for the folder. You pass it back into his hands and keep your expression neutral. Flipping through the photos, he finds what he's looking for and places it on your desk.

“That was taken outside an art gallery in Dallas. I think they know we’re closing in on some of their more lucrative sources of income and are trying something new.”

You look more closely at the photo in front of you and nod. “Art classes?” The second the joke leaves your mouth you cringe inwardly. Peña’s jaw twitches as his eyebrows scowl a fraction of an inch closer. Not the time or place.

“The gallery is run by a couple in their sixties, Frank and Harriet Mansford. I think they’re working with these guys to make some kind of art deal.” You gesture to the chair opposite your desk and he accepts the invitation to sit down.

“So, tell me, Agent Peña – where exactly does Customs come in? How do I fit into this picture?” Leaning forward, elbows propped on your desk, you fix Peña with what you hope is a confident stare. His fingers worry over the corner of his chair’s armrest.

“Narcos have gotten more sophisticated in their laundering operations, but this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve used art sales to clean their money.” His gaze is steady, but his fingers continue on their restless path.

“Unless they’re smuggling stolen goods into or out of the country–”

“They are,” Peña interjects. “I believe they are.” He lets out a frustrated breath. “I don’t have the evidence yet, but I’ve already been looking into this gallery. They specialize in European art – so they’re likely getting at least some of it from abroad. And an international sale would make the paper trail harder to follow.”

“As long as they’re legitimately purchasing or selling the artwork–” You hold up a calming hand as the agent makes to interrupt again. “Agent Peña, I’d like to help, but unless their crimes touch the border, it’s out of my jurisdiction.”

“I know. But that’s not the only reason I’m talking to you.” Peña takes a deep breath like he's gearing up for something and you brace yourself.

“I don’t know anything about art, ma’am.” He gives you the closest thing to a self-deprecating grin you think he’s capable of. “I’ve been trying to get the FBI’s art squad on this, but I can’t even get someone to take my calls – I don’t have an in.” He glances surreptitiously to see if anybody else is in earshot.

Your gut does an anxious flip. Please, don't let this be going where you think it’s going. He licks his lips and hesitates, avoiding your eyes.

“Word is you might know somebody in D.C.”

Your heart stutters. Shit.

Sounds like Peña isn’t the only subject of rumors around here.

---

Great, just great. You left D.C. to get away from people treating you differently because of who you choose to sleep with, but it looks like the rumors followed you all the way to fucking Texas.

You take a good, hard look at the man sitting across from you. For a moment, you seriously consider telling him he can go fuck himself. While social blackmail isn’t something you’re willing to tolerate after everything you’ve done to start fresh, you don’t want to miss your first real opportunity to get involved in a case since arriving in Texas. Javier Peña may be a god amongst mere mortals in this town – you’d learned enough about his career to know it wasn’t all bullshit – but you weren’t going to let him get away with using you for your contacts at the FBI. Well, contact – singular.

“The ‘word’ is?” You quote back at him icily. “And what word is that, Agent Peña?” Leaning back in your chair, you cock your head to the side a bit and rest your elbows on the arm rests. His mustache twitches the slightest bit at this change in your body language and tone of voice, but he doesn’t respond. You might be overplaying your hand here, but you’ll take that risk to find out how far he’s willing to go with this approach. Not wanting to be the first to break, you let the uncomfortable silence stretch.

Right when you start to think you’ve missed the mark and he’s going to walk away without another word, he nods, eyes never leaving yours. Mirroring your pose, he tents his fingers and licks his lips again. You force yourself not to look at his mouth.

“I’m not stupid,” he states. Here it comes. “I know what people say about me around here.”

Wait, what? Schooling your features, you decide to see how this plays out.

“I know you haven’t been here very long, but I’m sure you’ve heard some of the office gossip already.” He shifts in his seat and hikes his pant legs up, casually propping one ankle on a knee. You pride yourself on not looking at his crotch.

At that moment, a woman walks by your desk and gives the two of you a thorough once over. You stare her down until she meets your eyes, the smirk forming on her lips immediately dying. She scurries away and you turn back to find Peña giving you a bit of a smirk, and a certain glint appears in his eyes.

“Agent Peña–”

“Javi, please.” The balls on this guy.

“Agent,” you repeat purposefully, “I’m not sure what, if anything, you know about me.” You pause to take a steadying breath, but Peña continues in earnest.

“I know you worked with the FBI art squad on a number of cases during your time in D.C. that resulted in the arrest of several high-profile members of a forgery ring smuggling pieces into the country for sale on the black market.”

You blink. That wasn’t what you were expecting. At all.

He keeps talking. “But that was only in the last year or so. Before that, you worked your way up as a field agent and investigator at major ports of entry, developing a specialty in high-value contraband.” Peña slowly runs his palms over his thighs; the man is in perpetual motion.

As you listen to Javi rattle off various highlights and accolades that sound like they came directly from your personnel file, you notice the change in his demeanor and tone. He speaks matter-of-factly like he’s reciting a brief, but there’s a hint of something else in his tone besides simple curiosity.

“And then you landed the D.C. assignment. From what I hear, you could’ve been running that unit in a few years, but instead you took a boring ass admin job out here.” He gestures vaguely around you. This is where he’s comfortable – when he’s the one in charge, telling you what’s what.

“You’ve sure heard a lot about me, Agent Peña.” Your tone is cool and measured.

“Why?” He leans forward and braces his elbows on spread knees. His piercing eyes level with yours, pupils wide and locked in.

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why’d you leave D.C.?”

A glance out to the common area nearby confirms there’s nobody within earshot, but you still lower your voice when you say, “You already seem to know everything there is about me.” Pausing, you feel your pulse flutter in your neck. “I would think you’ve heard that part as well.”

He’s testing you. That’s how guys like him operate. They pin you down to see if you’ve got enough in you to fight back. Fighting back is what earns their respect. The smile Peña gives you is subtle, edging on mischievous.

“I’ve heard plenty on that topic,” he confirms with a gentle nod. “There are a few prevailing theories.” He counts off the rumors on his fingers and glances up to see your reactions to each.

Pissed off the wrong politician is met with an eye roll.

Moved here for a boyfriend – “...or girlfriend?” Javi checks – earns an exasperated sigh.

“You fucked your way around–” Javi stops abruptly when an indignant sound escapes your mouth. This reaction sends Javi’s eyebrows dancing.

Kicking yourself, you decide there’s only one course of action: honesty. Keeping your voice low, you lean over your desk and Javi follows until your faces are barely a foot apart. You force yourself to look directly into his eyes as you say your piece.

“I didn’t ‘fuck my way around’ anything. Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I had a consensual relationship that never once interfered with our professional conduct or the work at hand. Got it?” Javi doesn’t speak, but there’s a glint in his eyes as they roam over your stony expression, lips pursed in a contemplative pout.

“Once the rumor mill starts, it’s only a matter of time before the woman is left to deal with the consequences – not that I’d expect you to care about such things.” You practically spit the last words out before you can stop yourself.

The air stills between you. Peña nods as if to himself, then leans even closer, until you can smell his spicy cologne. “Let’s set the record straight about one thing right now, Agent.”

You swallow thickly and look anywhere but at his eyes – the long line of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the stubble on his cheek. His voice drops into a deeper register when he says, “I don’t give a shit who you choose to fuck or not – as long as it doesn’t get in the way of me getting the job done. We’re all adults here and can make our own grown-up choices.” He raises a finger, and points first to you, then himself as he speaks. “My one rule is: I don’t judge you, you don’t judge me.”

He pauses, giving you a second’s reprieve. “Are we on the same page now?”

You nod once, gritting your teeth at his condescending tone. Back in a normal register he says, “Good. Now about this investigation of mine…”

Peña retreats and gestures at the case documents underneath where your arms were folded on top of your desk. You look down, having almost forgotten his whole reason for being here in the first place.

“Agent Peña…” you start, and again, he interrupts.

“Please, I asked you to call me Javi.” The fucker winks at you – winks.

“Javi,” you grind out, playing his game. “I don’t know what you think I can do for you, unless this whole thing is to try and get me to –”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” His voice is a rumble in his chest. “Don’t insult me like that, and don’t insult yourself.” Javi points at the desk. “I came here asking for help because you’re a damn good agent with experience in this shit. If you want to show this office that you’re not going to back down from another fight just because some dickless piss-ant is spreading rumors, this is your chance.”

You let his words sink in and hate that he’s right. You did back down from the fight in D.C., the second it got difficult. Your pride was wounded and you ran away with your tail between your legs at the first opportunity. With a steadying breath, you sigh and start organizing the documents and photos.

“I’ll take a look at everything and see what I can come up with.” Peña begins to stand, and you cut in, “But I can’t promise I can get you in with the FBI.”

You haven’t spoken to Special Agent Marcus Pike since you left D.C. six months earlier. If you were honest with yourself, you missed the time you two spent together, even when you weren’t having amazing sex. Getting takeout from his favorite Thai place and watching an old movie, or reviewing case notes over pizza after hours in the war room. Marcus was the most decent guy you’d ever known, and you hadn’t even answered the few times he called to check in your first couple months in Texas. It’d serve you right if he refused to speak to you ever again, if you could swallow your pride long enough to call him up.

“I’ll take whatever I can get at this point.” Peña sticks a hand out to shake. You join him on your feet and grasp his hand firmly. Some of your confidence was returning.

“I never pegged you as the desperate type, Javi.” You hoped your smile was enough for the agent to hear your words as the playful banter you’d intended. Fortunately, he huffed a quiet laugh and nodded appreciatively, boldly letting his eyes wander over you. The heat of his gaze leaves pleasant tingles in its wake.

“I’ll swing by tomorrow to talk about next steps.”

The agent departs, and you sit back down at your desk with a long sigh. As you watch the man walk away, your reverie from earlier comes back in startling focus with new details. You think back to how commanding and gruff his voice had sounded with his face so close to yours. The scent of his cologne lingered – spicy, with a hint of citrus and something else you couldn’t identify. How his thick fingers splayed over his hip or massaged the arm of his chair as he spoke. The crease in the middle of his bottom lip when he swiped at the corner of his mouth.

Clearing your throat, you try to focus your attention on the stack of papers and photos in front of you. You couldn’t let your libido cloud your judgment now that you had a real case to sink your teeth into. You’d always prided yourself on your ability to compartmentalize, but your head was still swimming after the man had been in your cubicle for, what – ten minutes?

You’ve certainly got your work cut out for you.

***

Washington, D.C.

6 months earlier

“You don’t have to do this.” Marcus stands next to your desk as you finish packing your few personal belongings into an empty cardboard box. “I’ll talk to my guys, you don’t need –”

You still him with a hand. “Marcus, please. I’m choosing to do this; it’s a really good opportunity.” You hope he believes that.

Marcus sighs and rubs a hand over his face. After looking around to check that you and he were alone in the emptying building, Marcus leans into your space. “You’re telling me this has nothing to do with us?” His voice is deep, intimate.

He’s close enough for you to feel the warmth emanating from his body, and you catch a whiff of the aftershave that always leaves you feeling a bit heady. How is it still so strong even after a full day’s work? The frisson you experience whenever your bodies are in close proximity hasn’t diminished in the slightest, even after months of fucking on the sly.

You’d both maintained your professionalism at the office; you respect each others’ boundaries and careers too much to get sloppy in the workplace. The only thing that changed around the office since you started sleeping with Marcus was the other agents. Their eyes followed you around the office, conversations sputtered to a halt when you entered the breakroom, and snatches of whispered conversation filled your cubicle when they didn’t know you were there.

Clearing your throat, you force your eyes to meet his intense gaze. “Yes, Marcus, that’s what I’m saying.”

Marcus is a great agent, and an even greater guy. You know he’d want to stick up for you – as a fellow agent, and as a friend – but it’d only make things harder for you. Already your caseload had begun to dwindle and you were being consulted less and less often on issues squarely in your area of expertise. After several fruitless conversations with your supervisor, you weren't about to sit around and wait for your career to die – no matter how mindblowing the sex was.

The box is packed with your personal belongings and an assortment of stolen office supplies as your last petty ‘fuck you’ to the endemic sexism and double standards that plague federal law enforcement.

“Hey,” Marcus takes your hand in both of his and strokes his thumb over your pulse point as he perches a hip on the corner of your bare desk. “I can tell there’s something more to the story, and you obviously don’t want to tell me what it is so I’m not going to push…”

You roll your eyes at him teasingly and he huffs out a laugh, then pulls you closer so your hand is in his lap. He keeps stroking that sensitive part of your wrist and something in you thrums to life. “But?” You look at your joined hands. “I know there’s a but in there.”

“But – you know you can always talk to me. About whatever.” He shrugs a noncommittal shoulder and you step even closer, bracketing one of his legs between your own. His breath falters a bit as you turn one of his large hands over and graze your fingertips across his palm with a featherlight touch.

“If you ever need anything, please…” His voice drops into the register you only ever hear him use in private.

Fuck it – you’d been so careful and were still dealing with the consequences. Might as well have a little fun on your last day. You place a firm hand on Marcus’ thigh and glide it up to his hip.

“There is one thing I need right now.” You feel a bit giddy at your recklessness, but any nerves you might have are quelled when Marcus runs the tip of his nose up your jawline to your ear.

“And what’s that? Hm?” He inhales your scent and hums with pleasure. Before you can stop yourself, you shift your hand at Marcus’ hip to his crotch. When you feel how hard he already is you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose at your touch, then lets out a groan in your ear at your gentle squeeze. “Tell me what you need.” His five o’clock shadow rasps against your sensitive skin as he sucks your earlobe into his mouth.

“I need you to show me that evidence locker you haven’t shut up about since we met.”

Chapter 2

NOTE: The term “war room” originally described the place military leaders discussed tactics and strategies. It’s frequently used now in federal government, law enforcement, and business settings to describe any room used to strategize and plan – it could have various technologies (computers, A/V, video-teleconferencing, etc.) or be a plain old conference/meeting space with whiteboards.

Additional Author’s Note: I'm finally forcing myself to post this fic I've been working on in an attempt to get over my fear of people reading my work. It's the first fic I've written in the Pedroverse, and quite possibly the only fic I've ever posted publicly as an adult. I would love to know what you think! I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thanks for reading!

#senorabond writes #javier pena x reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic #the mentalist fic #peña x f!reader x pike #rumor has it fic

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rise-my-angel · 8 days

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Heart of the Great Wolf

46 - And Wait for the Snows

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

Length: 19.6k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, implied child abuse, character deaths, sexually violent language, disturbing imagery, body image issues, references to torture, smut, oral (f receiving), slight exhibitionism/voyeurism, handjobs, breeding kink, p in v

Notes: A lot happening in this chapter, but we'll get a chance to breathe soon enough, I promise. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The Crow's Eye would not consider himself to ever be a victim of circumstance. No, he made due no matter what was thrown his way. Those around him may not like the path to get there, but they had no say in the matter. Not anymore. When he was a boy, of course he had to do what his father bid and listen to his older brother, but he gleefully had three younger brothers to torment as he pleased.

Which he did. Not sure if the youngest of his brothers truly recalled those days, but they certainly still hated him as such. What choice though did he have? None. He didn't do it because he was told to, or even because they at all interested him. His brothers were all stupid, weak, and pathetic and if his youngest brothers were going to learn their place in this family, he was going to force them to learn they would never be above where he stands.

Then the second youngest died, still a child from some infection. Leaving the brothers to only four left and as he grew up, the more he learned he was the best of them. He answered to his father and elder brother for now, but the Crow's Eye was patient. He would wait. Bide his time until it was all prepared and then it would all prove to be his.

It took many decades to find that opportunity, but once it presented itself he took it with no remorse and now he was the only one left to prove he was worthy of being in charge. Five brothers to four, and now to three and he stood as the eldest. He had many plans to put into place and enacted them all swiftly. Scrapping his late brother's pitiful ideas, and sending his men every which way to get organized for once in their pathetic lives.

Truth be told, even though she was the focus of part of his new plan, he did not give a single care about the Targaryean girl. He didn't care what she was doing, what she looked like, or what she wanted. If she were smart, she'd give him what he wants willingly and he'd let her keep the dusty slave cities she pretended to rule over. He let his men assume that making her his Queen was his goal, but laughable if they truly thought he needed her.

He had heard stories, screaming that she was the blood of old Valyria but which one of them had traversed the poisoned lands? It was not her. Gold could be wagered on how sure he was that she never once had to lift a finger. Just stood around looking pretty and making big speeches as if that was what made a leader.

No, spilling blood with your bare hands made you a leader.

What use was she to the Crow's Eye if she relied on men and magic and dragons to win everything in her honour? Put her alone in a room with him and give each one of them a knife and who would win? Well, it wouldn't be the one whose never even held a sword before. But he let his men think all that anyways. It was easier to get her dragons if she thought she was wanted with them. He'd dispose of her later.

It wasn't as if women did not interest his desire. No, in fact he showed women exactly what he liked about them and it wasn't dainty girls who spent more time looking and sounding impressive and alluring. Either learn what true men what, or spread your legs and shut your mouth before he grew tired and cut your tongue out for you.

Much like the Flowers girl. She was pretty, and she fucked well, but she talked too much and thought that's what would endear him. Now she had no tongue and in some months time, would gift him a brand new bastard before he disposed of her too. None of these women had a single clue what would make them invaluable and he knew he was never going to find one who did at this rate.

His plans were all working, he needed the Targaryean for her dragons, so he begun organizing to soon send his brother off to accomplish bringing her to him. But the Crow's Eye was no fool. He had walked in the ruins of old Valyria, seen the vastness of shadowbinders in Asshai. Without those dragons, she had nothing to offer him. And once he tamed them, he had no use for another bed warmer with a large mouth.

No one knew what he has seen. No one knows where his exile had taken him, what he had done and what he had been stripped of. He had dreams of flying as a boy, and finally he was able too unlike a single soul anywhere else. Even when it had been taken away from him, his people were all fools to think any could keep up with him.

Until that was, he sensed it. On his ship and the night was quiet as the water were calm and yet he felt it. The pull in his mind. It was not clear right away, but it was there. Someone out there had been gifted as he had once been. Given the Greensight and whoever it was, their connection to it was strong. Unusually strong, as if there were the powers of two people inside what he sensed was one mind.

He was cut off from his strongest of abilities, Bloodraven had seen to that. He had found little use of it alone anymore, but if he could feel it coursing through his veins so far away, the Crow's Eye knew he needed to find them and maybe he could find a way back in by force. It took time. Weeks, then a month, then a little more time passed and finally he found it.

And his plans changed. He still needed the dragons, and he still needed to show Westeros he was the only man worthy of ruling them, but he finally found it. The only one he'd want by his side. The only one who had power that couldn't be found anywhere else.

The one with the Sight, just so happened to be a small stag. A green eyed Baratheon girl the realm once thought was dead. But she lived, and now ruled in the North beside her bastard born false King. Had he been a highborn, maybe he'd have considered the boy's feats impressive. But he was a bastard, a Snow, pretending to be worthy of being a King, and even worse? The girl had brought him back from the dead before he took her as a wife.

She was something else. Something no woman could conceive of being. But, he did not consider the circumstances to be in his way. The bastard King would be taken care of when the time was right to strike, and once she sees the magnitude of who The Crow's Eye is, she'd leave behind Snow in an instant. Power recognizes power, he knew it.

But even better, she was a fighter. She knew what spilling blood with her own hands was like, she fought and killed men in war, and she grabbed that dagger in their pulling visions and plunged it into his eye without hesitating. When his mind returned to his body, he was more sure then ever. He tried seeking her in the Green Sight again and again, but she always had her Great Wolf by her side. As if even in her dreams the damned bastard was still protecting her. Then she cut him out. She grew stronger and he found himself unable to seek her out no matter what he tried.

But he would not give up now. Only power was worthy of standing by his side, and the girl had power. Even the red woman had seen it. Coming to him this night as he looked to the darkness of the open water. An accent so many from Asshai thought they could seduce with, but the only things he cared about were what her god and blood magic could do for him. “She will not be easy to sway to your side. The wolf's claim on her is strong, stronger then any man I've known. He will not give her up.”

A lift of his eyebrow, and a smirk over his face came about. “He is a bastard, he is worth nothing. Trust in me, I have enough of my own. One dies, I'll fuck another into a girl to replace them. I do not fear him.”

The red woman however, held a look he could only describe as grim and knowing. “Then you would be a fool. I have wished to see of the Lord within you, and the flames show me nothing. I asked for the Lord's chosen warrior, and he shows me no sight of you. I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only snow. You are not his chosen warrior, and thus such are not men to be trifled with. They will not give her up easily.”

But he was the Crow's Eye. He had never let lesser men then him best him at anything, and he would not begin now. “Ask your Lord to show me how to get to her, and we shall see what it takes for the bastard to give her up. Until then, I have a Kingdom to take. Bring me what I ask, or stay out of my way. You are not here for your looks. Cease to be useful, and we shall find out how much your Lord protects you from me then.”

She did not react, and he did not expect her to at this point. He did not care her fire god did not think he a great warrior. The only war that existed was the one before his eyes. As she walked away, he already knew taking her would be a challenge. Her King father on one side and her Great Wolf pretending to be a King on the other, he needed to be careful.

But Stannis Baratheon could not watch over his daughter all the time, and eventually, Jon Snow would slip up. He couldn't protect her forever, he was nothing more then a bastard after all. She would grow tired of playing pity eventually.

He had told her in the last Green Dream he found her in, to come find him. He hadn't given her his name, but he wanted her to want it. Want him and find him without anything to go by. Prove she wanted better then to warm a bastards bed in a frozen wasteland. If not though, that was fine. He would still take her by force when the opportunity arose.

He was Ironborn after all. Taking what he wants, when he wants it, was what he was born to do.

The hand finding it's way caressingly at the back of your neck instantly had you lean back with a hum, eyes fluttering closed for only as long as it took for the hand to turn to a warm body sitting down next to you.

Colder and colder as the North became, the more work was done to keep Winterfell warm. Hardly a room you could go into with fires blazing everywhere, but it was nothing compared to the natural warmth soothing beside you as Jon joined you. The servers had begun putting food out ten minutes ago but you hadn't glanced away from the journal in front of you even once.

Showing Jon the papers you had found in the Lord Commanders quarters of the Nightfort, Jon had wondered what you'd want to keep it between you both for now for, until he got to the last. The direwolf sigil said it all. It sounded serious, and now it was his family directly involved in whatever this was. He kept them stashed away, knowing you had copied it down and ever since arriving back days ago, every spare moment alone your eyes would find the symbols and work through it with something weighing your head down until it ached in your neck.

Jon's voice now, was comforting in your ear as the hand slipped from your neck down the top of your spine to rest “I need you to do me a favour.” Turning instantly, it seemed he knew just how to capture your attention as he held back a smirk right away at your serious eagerness. “Have one meal with me where you haven't drifted off somewhere else.”

Shoulders deflating, Jon rightfully took that as a sign. Reaching over you to pry the edge of the book from your fingertips and close it. Watching with a hidden away amusement as he then picked it up, and started moving it. Sensing what your response would be, Jon shifted so his hand left your spine and nudged gently at your ribs when you reached for it. Placed now out of your sight behind where he sat somewhat to the side to face you.

A murmur on your voice unconvincing. “I'm not distracted every meal.”

Hand coming up to your jaw, Jon let two of his knuckles gently run along the skin he could find. Grey eyes wide and shining as he looked at you with nothing but a fondness. “What news did Arya tell me this morning then?”

The longer you did not answer, the more playfully mischievous Jon's eyes turned. Turning from him to roll your eyes, he also did not believe the huff which sighed out of you. Relentless Jon seemed to be that evening, interrupting whatever he put on his plate to add to what you assumed you finished to yours. Turning with a raise of your eyebrow, Jon hardly responded before biting into something. “No arguing, eat.”

You knew the easy quiet which followed was carried with Jon watching you with sharp eyes to ensure you were obeying him. Many including him had previously complained you seemed to not be eating enough, but now Jon was sparing no time in breaking that habit entirely from you. He was good at it, mostly though, because he was unquestioningly giving you orders without saying as much.

Orders which Jon knew you'd listen to if spoken in that tone. “Tell me if I'm mistaken, but I'm beginning to suspect you might actually enjoy ordering me around a little.”

Jon didn't even need to look your way to do it. “I don't like ordering you around. I like it when you're good for me.”

Eyes flying wide open as the fluster wormed it's way from your chest to your cheeks you knew the smile on you was shining in embarrassment. Muttering not low enough Jon almost wouldn't be able to hear, “Seven hells, Jon..” Only just catching your gaze, you could see the absolute enjoyment in his dark eyes in watching you get so easily flustered by him.

Rasping low but with as much tease as there was something raw and held back in affection, “You'll be thankful I'm trying to prepare your appetite now. I was always hungry as a boy, meaning soon enough he'll be too.” But you didn't continue, hands paused mid motion to look at him. It came so easily from Jon when before in these very halls never once did you discuss anything close to children together, it was always a known impossible.

You knew Jon likely could sense the weight in your throat at your moment too long of quiet, before you almost diverted the emotions to sit back down in your gut to explore at a later time. Quietly turning back to your plate and muttering only for him to hear. “I don't know. Not being hungry could be an indication she's going to be just like myself.”

Jon didn't hesitate to mutter quiet but quick, “He's a boy.”

A smile almost broke out instantly, a rolling of your eyes as you bit your tongue to keep it all just slightly at bay. Neither of you had told nor seen anyone about it yet, but even through Ghost you knew he couldn't possibly be able to tell that. But Jon had only argued when you brought it up. “I don't need anyone to confirm it for me. I know it's a boy.” He had yet to explain himself on such, but you rolled your eyes playfully all the same.

Whatever retort died on your tongue at the sound of footsteps coming along the corridor. Jon and yourself glancing to one another, a knowing in both eyes that for now, it was being kept to the two of you. Jon knew one could call him selfish for it, but he enjoyed having this between only you two, no one else sharing or watching.

Jon liked that the only business your future child was thus far, were yours and his. A little family in the making Jon thought impossible, and he wished to be selfish about it a bit longer. Though, there was something else he wanted to do, wanted to tell. But those two would also not speak it to a soul, though Jon was aware he had not informed you yet that he had blurted it out to Sam before he even told you.

Tomorrow you were planning on going back to Gilly's reading lessons and Jon hoped Sam would not stare at you in knowing. He just did not want the world to know yet, he liked the quiet life you both were trying to form and that included quiet about your son.

Arya's voice filled the quiet room however the moment she opened her mouth, a talent of her very own before even walking fully into view. “How many winters have you both been through before this?”

Glancing to one another, eyes squinting in thought trying to look passed the decade long summer to before that. Slowly answering as the numbers formed as he spoke them Jon replied in hesitation, “Four, maybe five. But I was too young to remember the first two, so three”

All but flopping down, Arya had her fur cloak wrapped around her so firmly it looked like a blanket, as she stared incredulously at how neither you nor Jon even had fur anywhere near your persons. Her voice in the same disbeleif. “Was it always this cold, or is this winter special because the world wants to end with it?”

The talent Arya had in making Jon smile at subjects usually pulling him back down to seriousness, Jon replied as he even more amusingly to you, found himself almost instinctively putting food on her plate for her. Though, all of you knew she'd pile more on top and somehow continue to stay that minuscule size.

“This is your first winter, it takes getting used to. Always make sure you're tending to your fires, and stop forgetting your gloves when you go outside.” Arya instantly piped up that she hadn't forgotten, only for Jon to reach to something at his side and with a dramatic slap, flopped her gloves right onto the table separating them.

Neither spoke for a moment until she reached for them, stuffing them away quickly as she narrowed her eyes in a jesting glare at him. “I had them on, I just..left them somewhere.”

Without even a blink, Jon answered flatly back. “Right. By somewhere you mean the dresser in your chambers?” Once more both wolves stared the other down, only causing you to look away in an amusement before turning back to the food on your plate.

You were almost certain there was more food on there now then when you last looked. Utterly relentless he was. And you were by his estimation, only a month in. You dared not think how he was going to start to fuss once the sickness starts. You had tried to avoid Robb those mornings to prevent him fussing over you, but there was not a chance you'd be able to sneak away and get sick without Jon seeing or being told.

As much as you trusted and appreciated both of them, the moment Olly or Theon knew you were trying to hide from Jon getting ill of any kind, they'd tell him without the passing of a single heartbeat to heartbeat.

Between the siblings bantering to the side, you had only just noticed as silent and graceful as ever did your mother find her way to sit by you. A warm shall wrapped firmly around her and a low tone as if speaking through the wish to shiver. “At least sending you here all those years prepared you for the cold. Brightwater Keep is as warm as a place can get before reaching Dorne.”

A doubtful huff of a laugh left you, quiet in tone as she was, you'd both be drowned out by the two wolves were you not know slightly faced away from them. “If how warm Kings Landing could be, I have an idea. You were right by the Honeywine though, I can't imagine it could get that warm even in the middle of the summer season.”

The sudden voice piping up from Arya drew both your attentions over to her, something if you flicked your gaze over more slightly, you'd see a bit of an amusement in Jons eyes. “What's that?”

You know why Jon was amused. It was getting a bit easier for Jon and Selyse to get used to one another so regularly. While he was used to your quiet, Jon also knew how to pull more wildness out of you in a way that wasn't so clear even existed in your mother. Not any fault of hers, but she simply was a bit on the more consistently serious side then the Starks would've been used too.

It did however, make her and Arya's interactions amusing. Two very different people in every manner now bound as family by law, and clearly she had no read on how to get along with her yet. Typically then, you'd act as the median in between to make it easier to connect loud and eccentric with quiet and stern but she still answered with ease. “The Honeywine is a river sat right in the heart of the agricultural valley in the Reach. Most farms all try to compete in buying land right by it, since whoever produces the most, there normally will sell for high prices come the harvest. It's where a large majority of the food in the South is imported from.”

Nodding, you tried to ignore that as you ate, with both the other pairs of eyes keeping on each other, you had to not glance down noticing Jon returning to your plate what you had subtly tried to put back. He and Ghost both, honestly. At least the food Jon kept throwing at you was cooked and not normally still with it's skin and covered in blood. Though if Ghost could cook it you wouldn't put it passed him either to then bring you cooked food whenever he returned from a hunt. Turning into a game this was.

Arya meanwhile, asking with a genuine curiosity. “How do they decide who gets what?”

It almost felt like you were back in the days of Kings Landing, you being the one asking the questions to your father preparing to take over at some point in the years future, but now the two of them played those roles. “Typically that's left for the Master of Ships to sort out. Each Kingdom has their own unique needs, and how much of what they ask for can also depend on either their gold, or the value of the export they trade us in return. The worse the offer, the less they get.”

Not one to mince her words either, Arya's brows narrowed. “That sounds like a horrible job.” A laugh came from you before your mother could answer, affirming it was. “That was what you did, in King's Landing?”

Nodding, you ripped off pieces of whatever you had picked up, once more ignoring Jon watching you through his own meal as you explained more. “Mostly. There's a lot of learning what grows where and what place without it demands said crop, what they have to offer in terms of resources and how readily they can produce it to trade on a regular basis. How much each Kingdom makes in gold and what of that goes towards their agriculture, mining, whatnot. It's half the days in a week looking at too many numbers, and the other half either down by the ports ensuring everything is running to standard, or arguing with the Master of Coin because your own spending allowance was once more cut down.”

You knew for a multitude of reasons the image bothered Jon. The man himself you were referring too, and a once long ago dislike of how a man such as Petyr Baelish would treat you. When in truth you were certain Jon's head may implode if you told him just how many men in power in that rats den they call a capitol, would try and find ways to take advantage of your young age and lack of influence on the people.

Renly would used to jest that Janos Slynt seemed to treat every one on the small council with respect except for you. What he may tell to any else in a calm and reasonable tone, he would puff up with ingidnance and spit it at you as you barley would raise an eyebrow towards him.

Just as you all had begun to stand and make their leave, Jon grasped at your wrist, giving a small tug towards him before you could fully leave the seat. A gesture to the two now leaving as if to implore you to give him a moment when out of earshot.

But by the time they had, he didn't quite jump into whatever it was. Running a hand through the loose strands of hair at the side of your head, you tilted more towards him with a small question asking in your eyes to his. Jon only responded with a shake of his head in no, letting him toy with your hair and eyes drift innocently along until you knew where he wished he could see better.

Meeting back, Jons gaze flickered in something upsetting for a moment, letting a frown slip to follow. Quiet as any, so guards nor servers passing by would hear him. “I know you don't like talking about it, but I'd like you to answer me honestly.” Your brows narrowed as a bit. “Did they used to starve you? The Boltons?”

Head tilting back slightly in surprise, you opened and closed your mouth twice before pushing past the uncomfortable stammer collecting your thoughts. A nod left but so did the words you knew Jon preferred to hear instead. A strain in your voice, you didn't expect. “It was worse when I was in the Dreadfort. They kept me in the dungeons for months, fed twice a day but it would be generous to call both combined enough for one proper meal.”

Letting the hand toying with your hair, find it's way to the skin by your cheek and jaw gently. A concern in his eyes as he looked back down to your stomach and up again that you hated seeing on him.

Trying to explain it away, knowing Jon knew better. “Roose Bolton always argued against treating our prisoners well during the war, it only made sense he wouldn't show me the same courtesy. Wanting me to know how little he cared for Robb's methods.” Jons voice more of a rough husk as he asked about when they brought you to Winterfell. “They had to feed me more, trying to dangle me in front of our people and pretend as if they were treating me well. Didn't have much of an appetite, but I suppose at least Roose Bolton always ensured wine was in steady supply to force down my throat, just enough to keep me from lashing out.”

Jon didn't move or say anything beyond the angering clench in his jaw. Only letting something hiss out as he looked down to your stomach again. “Only for that?” When you didn't respond right away, Jon found your gaze again, the anger far closer to the surface then even seconds ago. “Did they tell you that's why they were forcing you to drink?”

Tilting your head a bit, you knew he could see that you were not following his logic, but answering best could be anyways. Words stretching at first as you put the thoughts into form out loud. “No, that would have required Roose Bolton to tell me anything. By then I knew what I was there for, and what I was to do. Just play my role with no fuss, don't try to ask any in the castle for help, just be quiet and play nice.”

Oh something once more was too close to the surface for him. Exhaling roughly, you could see Jon was keeping his mouth closed knowing too easily something might spill out of it in anger should it open even for a breath. Your hand closest to him instead reached up, raking gently through his curls hoping the sensation would calm down whatever had worked him up so quickly.

Leaning close enough to him he likely would feel your breath across his skin as you spoke, you whispered with nothing but a tenderness. “Jon, that's passed us now. We're here and they aren't, that's all that matters.”

Interrupting the end of your sentence, Jons head whipped up to find your eyes. Yours innocent and confused against his more intense and angry ones. “What did you say to me, the first time I took all your clothes off?”

You felt even more confused, and by now couldn't even recall whatever nervous ramblings came from your mouth that afternoon. Grasping at straws, it was evident in your tone you were making it up. “Something along the lines of not knowing why you'd want to do that with me in the first place?” Your attempts in a lighter tone to ease up this new tension failed.

Jon was no calmer as his eyes narrowed more at you. “No, when I saw you bare for the first time what did you tell me in that moment?” Eyes wide a bit as you could not put the memory to any words spoken. Saying you remembered being nervous, but Jon jumped in finally. “You started apologizing to me. Right away, you tried saying you were sorry you didn't look like other girls, thinking you weren't impressive enough or small enough.”

You could've been right back in that room, the manner in which the same embarrassment filled your veins now as it did then. Jon intimidating you with a memory right into being as nervous fully clothed and married as you were bare and a maiden. It was horrible to spit itself out, but you said it before you had the reason to be able to stop it. Muttering without looking at him directly, “Hopefully was small enough the second time around.”

But he only stared at you. Something angering but confused and disapproving melting into his features as he barley shook his head at you. “Do you really think that's what I want?” Your silence said it all, that you really weren't quite sure what your mind wanted you to say versus your insecurity. Head dropping with a sigh, Jon raised it as he grabbed your arm gently. Pulling you to stand with him as the other arm grabbed your journal and tucked it away somewhere on him. “Come on.”

You followed him in quiet, his arm slipping to your bicep to almost pull you close as he soothed his rough palm over it back and forth. You knew better then to question him when he was walking you in a silence demanding privacy. By the time he reached whatever destination he had in mind, he ushered you into it with the door closing and locking behind him. Intentionally that was.

A more open room, a large tub in the middle typically used by those not in the family, as each room proper all that one individual to them. But you weren't sure why you were in here and not simply brought to Jons. Only, by the time you turned to ask what this was about, Jon had decided on the path he was going to approach making his point from.

A path in which, you truly, should have been able to predict by now.

Turning back to face you, properly Jon ran a hand over his mouth almost with a frustration trying to get wiped from his expression. Eyes glancing around the room behind you, Jon let out a sigh before coming up to you. Head dropped a bit as his eyes trailed down to your stomach, likely still wishing he could see anything by now.

Both hands coming gently to hold at your hips, your own hands found their way up his chest and along his collarbones and winding to the back of his neck to wrap around. One hand removed from you, Jon gently ran two fingers down your stomach by the back of his knuckles still not looking away. Your voice gentle as it tried to call out to him. “Jon,” A half heard grunt barely left him to indicate he was listening. “I don't say those things hoping to upset you.”

Gruff in tone, he still didn't tear his eyes away. “No, but they do.” In thought for a moment he hadn't shifted his stance at all by the time he said it. “Take this off.” Your head jolted back just a small bit in question but Jon with his other hand still on your hip tugged slightly at the material of your dress. “Off.”

Repeating his command, you felt your heart race just a bit as Jon took enough of a step away from you to give you space. Nerves flowing through you all the while as he didn't move to do or say anything else, but watching with dark, tense eyes as your hands begun to undo things in front of his watchful gaze.

First the longer, drapier material covering most of you, second then moving to your warmer dress, letting it fall to the ground pooling at your feet. The shift let on you was dark, but short enough the cold of the air begun to hit you right away. Inhaling as he looked you over, something on the edge of greedy seemed to slip through Jons voice. “You wear more layers then you used too.”

Those nerves turned ragged almost in an instant, wishing to shuffle on your feet but stood in stillness not wanting him to think they were there. Your voice however, low and muttering did not quite exude confidence. “It's also colder then it used to be.” Staring at your shift he said nothing but the message was spoken. You were not done yet.

Looking away from his tense eyes, you carefully pulled down the straps of your shift down your arms and it too pooled to the ground of piling clothes. That time Jon didn't need to imply anything, you read him loudly and clearly. A shaking exhale left your lips as you gentle pushed down the last of the material on you hiding your most intimate of aspects from him, now bare in the cold of the room against Jon still fully clothed.

Jon kept you standing there. His feet taking him a few steps backwards to lean against the wall, arms crossing over his chest as he still only looked at you. The flustering in your heart running rampant in your veins like a flooding wave, on an embarrassed edge against his unblinking, dark stoicism. His voice rasped deeply from something trapped within his chest. “Some nights I wish I was a worse man.” You said nothing, trying not to look like you wanted to start shivering. “Could have kept Ramsay prisoner, put him in chains, gag him and make him watch me take you apart. Show him what it's like to enjoy something he tried to ruin.”

Your breathing picked up, but attempting to hide the fact was impossible as bare as you were. The rising and falling of your chest made it obvious how much Jons eyes kept training back to your breasts.

Jon though, thought little of stopping. “I'd keep you there, take you as long as it took, all night if I had to. Take you apart until you were the beautiful crying mess I know I make you.” The desire mixed with a hint of humiliation had you wanted to shift around nervously again. He was extremely talented at it. “And the only thing that would make me stop, is when I was sure beyond any doubt I put a child in you. Finally when he realized it too, then I'd kill him.”

Little grey was left in his dark eyes, almost now sitting angry and black in colour. Your own voice but a fleeting high pitched whisper. “But you are a better man then that, Jon. I know that.”

Shaking his head, Jon barley let his eyes close as he spoke. “Some days I wish I wasn't.” Biting your tongue as he opened back to stare intently at your form he was rough in a strain as he spoke. “If I were that man, darling, I wouldn't have even let you leave my cock that first night until you were pregnant. I wanted to, I wanted to tie your arms up, tie your legs spread out for me against the bars too, and fuck you until I was sure, then I'd fuck you more just to be safe. If Ghost hadn't brought you to me when he did, I was getting so close to finding you myself and fucking you where you stood.”

Your breathing was noticeable now if it hadn't been before. It should scare you, the possessive thoughts spilling from his mouth like they were rambles he couldn't stop. If Ramsay spoke to you that way, it would terrify you. But it came from Jons mouth, and it only made you feel humiliated as no doubt you could feel blood rushing to flood between your legs as he had barley even blinked. And he still couldn't stop himself from speaking.

Hands clenching as they were crossed over his torso, Jon almost wasn't even aware how much he had begun to let it all spill out. “When I saw you like this for the first time, almost every night after until you came back to Winterfell, I couldn't stop myself. I'd see you, remember how you felt, how you looked. How you were so nervous but you still lay back on my bed and spread your legs knowing I wanted to see you, see how wet you were. Every night after that I came in my hand thinking about how you looked that day.”

“Do you know how often I think about how you looked that night in Castle Black?” Shaking your head, his answer wasn't even what you expected. “Never. I think about everything else, but I've never thought about how you looked. Because I hated it. I still do.” The dark edge on his voice and you started to wonder if Jon even realized how much he had begun to ramble angrily. “They starved you to keep you weak, and you've managed to trick yourself into thinking because it makes you small like other highborn girls, that you should stay that way. But I hate it. I've never seen anything as beautiful as the way you looked at afternoon, and I miss it. I miss when you weren’t scared for me to see you. I miss when you let me just tell you how I thought you were perfect and you wouldn't argue about it.”

Swallowing harshly, you turned away with futile hopes of the flush in your skin going way or the stuttering breaths disappearing. Feeling his eyes watching your jaw twitch trying to hold something back you didn't even know what it wanted to say. The muscles in your neck almost shook trying to remain collected knowing that Jon knew better then that.

Only a mutter, but in the quiet of the empty room, you trusted he could hear you. “I know you didn't care I didn't quite look as pretty as other girls.” The hint of smile almost found your lips, “And it was easy with Robb. We were south at war for three years, there was no looking pretty there when you lived in army camp to army camp. But..” One more you tried to swallow that heavy stone of nerves back down but it was too large. It refused and thus a cracking in your voice came out as your face turned more into a stone like expression trying to smother it. “The girls Ramsay kept around..they were so..”

Not looking Jons way, you missed the wide eyed brightness in his eyes. How easily your own insecurities turned his frustration over them into something more gentle then Ramsay was even capable of pretending to be.

But you continued. Hands wanting to hide what of you was still exposed to his eyes, but forcing your arms flat at your sides, only the tensing and twitching of your fingers giving away to Jon how much you wanted to cover up. “If he was going to marry me, then to him, I'd better have walked into the godswood looking like a girl he'd want to actually fuck.” Shaking your head, eyes closing as you could see the image in your head, you felt a long gone wave of regret. “The way he'd speak so rudely about Roose's new wife, it was like if I didn't look just like the girls he kept around himself then I may as well be as grotesque to him as he saw Walda.”

It was far too late to change, but you still felt the regret. The way you barley gave her a chance, when in truth she made the best of the marriage she like so many had no say in, and in return you refused to even try to be anything of a real friend. The girl probably died thinking you hated her. But still, the way Ramsay spoke about her? Rambling on about how he wasn't even sure how his father managed to fuck her, as if her weight had anything to do with such an act.

It was easier to not fight back against the way he wanted you to look, but perhaps you still hadn't quite come back enough to remember Jon wanted you before you were forced to look that way. He had seen you after seven days on the run, no longer looking dainty like they forced you to look. But he was always still there, wasn't he?

Whispering in your ear about how he had made you something no one but Ramsay would ever be charitable enough to want anymore. Had ruined you in ways more then you've ever allowed yourself to think about. By the time your eyes flickered back up, it was only the tender softness of Jon's grey eyes bright as he looked at you with something so easily detectable as heartbreak. Forcing yourself not to look away that time, you stayed with nervous eyes on his.

Approaching you finally, Jon once more let a hand rest along your hip while the other tilted your chin up so you could properly meet his eyes. Something upset was trying to hold back within them. Your hands just barley found the courage to rest along the belt sitting low on his waist keeping things still strapped at the ready. Digging your fingertips slightly into it trying to seek any freedom between it and the leather under it. “I'm not about to get any smaller or firmer now.”

“Good.” Your eyes flickering up to his with a hesitation to doubt him right away. Jons face far more wanting to smile then before. “I'll keep you pregnant if I have to, just so you understand how little I care about you looking that way.”

Shifting to hold at your hips, Jon begun suddenly to move you, turn your back so you were standing how he just had been and pushing you backwards slowly. Your hands grasping onto his wrists. “Jon?” But nothing was said until he stretched his reach to gently push you against the back wall. Not leaving your touch until he saw you relax a little.

Instead though, of matching how he had you take everything off, Jon knew just how to keep the upper hand while riling you up for him. Far back enough you'd have to push off the wall to reach him but knowing he wanted you to say just like that. The belt along him and weapons attached came off, but nothing else. Only watching you with a shine in his dark eyes as his large hands swiftly moved his layers enough that by the time he came back to you?

One hand pressed against the wall beside your head, the other just managed to pull his cock out alone, leaving everything else on as he crowded your bare self against the wall. Leaning so his lips brushed yours as he spoke. “Give me your hand.”

Tenderly, you reached out as Jon guided you to wrap it around the hard, and thick girth of his cock, squeezing you tight enough more then what he knew you'd do alone, before moving that same hand to hold back at your hip. His breathing increased slightly, as did your nerves but peering up at Jons eyes? He gave a single, small nod and you knew once more, he had given you a command he expected to be obeyed.

Normally, he guided you until you were comfortable enough taking over, but you started stroking his cock. Firmer then you would have held him on your own, trying to recall the help he'd give you. To grip him tighter, to go just the right pace beyond the more slow and gentle way you'd handle him. Your eyes wanted to trail down but Jon leaned in, keeping your eyes up on him with a narrowed expression until he closed the rest of the gap.

Gripping the back of your neck, Jon captured your lips with his, deepening it as he kept you pressed further into the wall. Biting at your bottom lip before switching back to his kiss, and then once more biting at you again until you gasped.

Allowing Jon to slip his tongue inside your mouth as you instinctively gripped his cock a bit tighter, and a growl crawling up Jons chest and vibrating into your mouth as he brushed his tongue along yours. Both hands coming up to cup your cheeks, Jon tilted your head more up to him as he stood a step closer. Your hand having to twist somewhat to find the right angle to stroke his cock at, that you thought he'd like, but his tongue only left you long enough to bite at your lips again and once more forcing his path in your mouth as you mixed between pleasuring him and being at his lips mercy.

A mercy he granted not your neck. Dragging his lips down your jaw and neck, Jon spared no time biting down roughly, breaking the skin just perfect enough to indent his mark and sucked at the sensitive flesh. Your back arching off the wall into him, your thumb running along his tip before using your palm a bit to help run it all along his cock. Trying to make the sensation for him a little less raw.

Both of his own hands moved downwards, grasping roughly at your breasts you already too felt his nails dig into the sensitive skin as his teeth did your neck. A growl leaving him as your hand ran up and down his length a bit faster, and a bit tighter. His fingers grasping at the small buds of your breasts and twisting without build up from ease. A cry leaving your mouth until Jon pulled from your neck. Eyeing his work before pinching and yanking at your nipples, watching your eyes flutter closed trying to not cry his name out.

Muscles in him straining, his cock throbbing in your hand desperate to cum. Jaw clenched as he muttered your name roughly, nudging your nose with his to gain your attention. Slowly down only a bit, just as you did Jon reached down. Covering your hand with his and forcing you to stop and squeeze him more. “You feel this? How tight your grip is now?” Nodding, Jon kissed you, a rough force pulling back with an equally as rough bite. “That's not even half of how tight you feel around me.”

A whine peeking from your held back sounds, Jon nodded as your eyes half open gazed up at him, now only following him moving your hand along his cock. Something was teetering on his mind, but a shaking exhale, Jon groped roughly at the breast his other hand was still on before leaving.

One hand reaching down to your bare thigh, yanking it up in his arm along his hip as the other all but forced your hand from him with a throw. Finding your eyes, Jon gave no chance to think. In one smooth, but soaking tight thrust Jon slid inside of you. The cry leaving as you grasped his shoulders, he was as deep as he could go and the burn that time a little more noticeable. But still certainly wet enough you felt embarrassed he now knew how quickly you were ready for him from stroking his cock alone.

His now free hand cupping the back of your neck, he turned you to look up at him and you clenched tightly around as the core in you built into a burn. Eyes blown out, lips parted, Jon already looked so close and his rambling spoke just that. Hardly needing to pull out halfway and slide slowly back inside of you, “The next time you try and tell me you don't look good enough-” Eyes squeezed shut as he hissed out, you grasped his shoulders as you tried to move against his cock each time he slid back so deep.

“Next time?”

Trying to prompt him back to you, Jon more firmly slid the hand on your thigh down more, gripping behind you tightly, one ass cheek in his hand Jon forced your hips against his. His cock brushing against something sensitive inside of you. Fingertips gripping the plush skin, trailing more towards your ass as if tempting you with the idea of taking you there again too. Nodding, Jon watched as your eyes struggled to stay open looking to sweetly up at him. “Next time you talk badly about how you look, I'm bringing you out to our men and show them what they will never have. Cunt, ass, mouth, I'll fuck all of them just so they understand how beautiful you look taking me.”

Leaning close to your lips, Jons breathing was heavy in your mouth before he rested his forehead against yours with a growl. Your hands rushing up to wrap around the back of his neck, raking gently into his curls. Pulling him more to your neck, Jon pressed you more against the wall as you coaxed him gently. “Anything you want, please- just cum inside me, Jon. Please,”

He only nodded, thrusting roughly barley four more times as the leathers against your bare skin scratched, but he crowded you. Sinking his cock deep as he could, Jon groaned your name in your muffled neck. Spilling deeply inside of you, the hand still at your ass forcing you hips to take him as deep as you could. Almost hot in the cold air around you, his seed filled thick inside of you, flooding your cunt, his muscles tensed as he did so.

Just to find the sadistic tendencies in him, as soon as Jon finished spilling inside of you, he pulled out completely. Not gentle or even with any warning, but your walls so sensitive and begging for your own release and he refused anymore then what he filled you with. Grabbing your jaw, Jon pulled you to meet his lips in a rough, biting kiss. Panting against them as he spoke lowly. “Do you want to cum?”

Biting your lip slightly you nodded against him, but Jon only sighed out another rough exhale. Rasping against your lips, “Prove to me you understand then. I won't let you anywhere near an orgasm until you prove to me you understand without doubt how much I'll always adore your body.”

You hated that he meant it, and you hated how much you loved when he'd refuse you just to add too the lesson he wanted to teach you. “I promise, Jon. I'll prove it, I will.”

Cupping one of your cheeks, Jon swiftly readjusted his clothes to look nothing out of the ordinary as you pressed bare against him. Smile so handsome and so perfect on his face, “Show me by the end of tomorrow you've learned your lesson, and I'll take care of you, alright? I promise.”

Only a breathless laugh was capable of leaving you, but he shared it right back only brighter and better on his face. This certainly had not been on the list of things to do by the end of the night.

Any other life, and you might have felt ashamed at how easily you let him treat you however he wanted, but you also knew he wasn't cruel to be mean. He just enjoyed dangling you on that cliff's edge, both of you knowing at some point he'd pull you back to safety, but loved the fact that until that time, you had to rely entirely on him to get to that point. It was probably a good thing you knew so little about sex most of your life, had you known being with Jon could be like this, you would not have been an innocent maiden nearly as long as you were.

Only, it was what he told you after as you both waited for sleep to take you in bed that same night, that changed everything. As for a brief moment you thought he had changed his mind, but it wasn’t that, not at all. Almost as if he had worked you up earlier, keep you on edge as if to prepare you for something else entirely.

“I'm beginning to get used to this pattern where you don't explain what you're doing to anyone.”

Your eyes drifted up from where they were trained on the papers before you, only to flicker them away with a withheld sigh and close to have rolled your eyes. The tip of the quill tapping at the very top of the ink bottle for the past ten minutes without even noticing the degree of time passing. Your tone was flat just as your expression. “Not quite sure where you were the first time we met, but I rarely tell anyone what I do at the best of times. You are only noticing it now.” Pausing you looked to the book in his hand with question. “I seem to recall asking Olly to fetch me that.”

Unlike your dutiful steward, Theon chucked the book on the table somewhat by where you sat before taking a seat on the side adjacent to you. “You did, but I was speaking to Wolkan when he came in, and gave him a break from taking orders from you.”

Your eyes peeled back to your work, a great effort being made to avoid the appearance of rolling your eyes with a smirk, but not from keeping the comment off your tongue. “Some people are happy to take reasonable orders without complaining, Greyjoy.”

You could leave it to Theon, when alone in the room dropping all formality except for mocking. “Just because he doesn't complain to your face, doesn't mean he isn't complaining, Baratheon.” Only trying to rile you up, you let a small smirk let out before pulling the quill from the ink bottle, and instead choosing to go from tapping on the glass, to lightly twirling it between your fingers, eyes narrow on the page. Theon's voice breaking the quiet with more genuity. “Thought you said nothing in those papers you found was of use.”

Managing to maintain the twirl of the quill, you continued to look at the same words you kept re reading for the entire time since transcribing it. Muttering in a bit of distance in your tone, “That doesn't mean it isn't valuable in some other way. We already have it in our possession, so we may as well understand what it said.”

Asking if you had leaned who wrote it, once more the line you hoped sounded as if it came easy as the truth sounded. “No. There were dozens of Lord Commanders who have little written record of. It could very well be any one of them.” Glancing up, you dragged the book over to you without further comment. Page after page you quickly sifted through before finding what you were looking for. In quiet for a good moment before glancing back up, a questioning gaze on Theon. “What?”

“Something around here seems odd. Ever since we left the Nightfort, something's been off with Jon. You as well, but mostly him.” The worry and concern was genuine, and it didn't feel good but it was easier to deflect it now as if for nothing. Not what you said to Theon, but the knowledge of knowing you that the world wasn't going to let you find the answers here.

Certainly the Stark who wrote of these images seemed to agree. Whatever he had found, was not here nor the Wall. Whatever the green in the heart of Winter was, he found something of a woman in white. Jon had said none have gone beyond the mountains of the Frost Fangs and returned, and yet the page you were looking at was the beginning of a trek this Lord Commander had made. A trek which begun in description of going beyond those same mountains and there were more pages after that, all written in succession. And returned to the Nightfort.

One person had gone there and survived, but the why was thus far no where near close to an answer.

Glancing back at him, you knew Theon deserved a more honest answer and you didn't like keeping it from him, but you spoke a half lie regardless. “A lot on my plate is all.” It was dismissive enough he didn't pry, and still, you felt the guilt for purposely leaving him out of it.

“Are you avoiding telling anyone about it?”

Jon barley had spared a glance up before returning back to the too many things in front of him to count. His response half hearted, “There's nothing else to say, Sam. I told her, we haven't told anyone else. That's all there is to it.” Asking why not, Jon once more found his eyes trailing to what he truly wished he didn’t have to be planning. “Why not what?”

Sam it seemed, was as interested as this news as he was so far with many steps he saw of Jons relationship with you. “Tell people. You're King in the North, don't you think people want to know the King's wife is pregnant?”

That one got Jon to look up at him with something more nervous then before. “They would, but we want to keep it between us for now.” The shortness growing in Jons patience grew shorter still hearing Sam mention he knows, Jon looked back down away from him. Opening his mouth before closing it again, Jon let an exhale out as he found the attempt one more time, far calmer. “I never thought I'd have this. Have her. The last night I had her to myself before she married Robb, we sat in the godswood making up a story about other lives we could be together. I thought I was giving her up for good.”

Walking more towards the side of him, Sam had found both the understanding in him but also knew that maybe Jon was just vulnerable enough to say the truth right after that one. “And it has nothing to do with how you've been staring at maps north of the Wall all day?” Jon knew when he said nothing, that was as good as an admission in Sam's quick mind. “Jon-”

“Bran's still out there.” His eyes were a bit wider, knowing the grey in them were shining against the dim light around the room from the fires. “You told me they went beyond the Wall to try and stop this, stop them from coming.” It was quiet, but it was loud in his head saying it. “What if the answer I'm looking for isn't here? What if it's out there?”

There was only one brazen enough to stand outside the King's study and listen as if he had any right, but he was one to walk in and make his spying known. “It isn't an easy answer to come too.” Howland Reed had taken not more then two steps into the room before turning. Making a point as he closed the door on the guards simply station outside. Saying nothing else but quiet when out of earshot of listeners. “Brandon Stark isn't the only one beyond the Wall, remember. I watched my children leave their home, not knowing when I would ever see them again. Knowing they had too, because they were the only ones who could help him.”

Sam had not noticed the glance between the two men, the knowing as Jon and Howland both knew the answer Jon was trying to rationalize. Before he told you the night previous, Jon had went to the one man who understood dreams as such first. Still, he appreciated Sam arguing for his sake anyways. “You can't be suggesting he goes out there, he has a Kingdom to look after, he has a wife-”

Jon turned to stare at him into the quiet, Howland Reed however finished a different sentence to the initial thought. “Tell me Samwell, what use will it be ruling over the North if we have not done everything possible to stop the storms before it takes us anyways.” Sam's own words were interrupted as the man stepped calmly but further into the space Sam stood, your name coming from the older man. “She is not the only one with strange new abilities tied so closely to the North. She returned from the dead, and she brought Jon back from the dead.” Head nodding to Jon. “Warging, skin changing, green dreams, none of these are powers any yield but from the North. And all of them point further north then Winterfell or the Wall alone.”

Jon knew his silence without a shred of question, confusion or doubt on his face only added to the realization that this was not the first time this idea was brought up around him. Sam asking directly, “How long have you-”

“The night before we left I started to figure it out, and the time we've been back here I finally put it all together.” Pleading with all he had, Jon felt the same twisting in his gut as the morning after the attack on Castle Black. The knowing that it was not a plan which sounded good, but just as horrible to think the consequences of. “Sam, you didn't see what happened at Hardhome. You don't know what they're capable of. If I don't do everything I can to stop this, it will happen all over again but this time to my own people. And it won't stop with the North once they're gone too.”

He hated it, but he knew too much. Jon had been in Winterfell, he had been in two forts along the Wall and he had been beyond it. And never closer to real answers of what was going on were given to him then those years he spent out there. It had begun with watching Craster offer his baby, his own son to the Others, and watching one take the baby away, and it got worse and worse until they attacked Hardhome.

Books were only going to get Jon so far, and hiding away hoping they could, was not going to save his people when the time comes. What was the point of calling himself their King, if he hides away in his castle?

Sam though, he asked the question Jon dreaded. The one he and Lord Howland ultimately argued over the day prior before Jon knew he would come to you about it. Sam asked what about you, if Jon goes beyond the Wall again and the answer was right there in his face and he knew he was asking too much of you but there was no other choice. “She's coming with me.”

The symbols, the signs, all pointing to the same place but it was the dream he had that was it. You had spoken of what they were like when so vivid. The question of when was answered easily in his mind.

You were a month pregnant, Jon had to do this now. He couldn't wait to make sure everything possible in the North was taken care of. You had to come with him, and Jon didn't know how long this would take. He knew how long it would take for the two of you and Ghost to get to the Frost Fangs, but nothing beyond that.

If he and you made it, Jon needed to ensure he got you back to Winterfell in time to birth your son here in these walls. But if you two weren't coming back, he didn't want you to get so far into your pregnancy that losing it again would feel like losing another child. Either you two made it to the Heart of Winter and back, or this ended when you both got there, but Jon had a plan in that case.

If he left in the next coming days he may be able to get you there before you reached five months, or just at that time. Meaning if this was it, at least you wouldn't be tormented knowing you got closer that time.

No matter what happened he told himself, you were still together. He'd have you, Ghost, and to whatever end it was, he'd have his son as well. But judging by what he had seen, that's what they wanted. They had without even the human words made it clear. Jon alone was not enough. But it finally was asked in that room, the pressing question. “What are you going to tell people?”

Whatever the answer to that Jon was trying to figure out, he knew he had to do what his brothers did for Sam. Thinking Gilly was dead, they all told him she could've made it out before the attack on Mole's Town. Jon didn't, he hadn't wanted to give Sam false hope. But he knew he was wrong. He understood why his brothers gave Sam that hope.

In fact, you had said it yourself. People need a selfish reason to keep going, otherwise they'll fear they are fighting for a lifeless cause. Jon wouldn't lie, but he knew it might be a mistake to tell them the degree of danger this might lead too. But if it ended without you all coming back, Jon at least needed them to understand that if he didn't come back, it was because the Others weren't coming either.

Jon wondered if this was how Bran felt. Knowing he had to go beyond the Wall regardless of the fear which may come and the danger he'd find. Bran had the bravery when he was a boy of eleven, so Jon as a man, had to have the same.

It had been the story of a Stark going beyond the Wall which did it. From his parting conversation with Stannis, to the entire ride returning to Winterfell that story stuck out in his mind. None knew what truly led to the end of the Long Night. They told stories of battle, but Jon had seen what battle with this army brought and it was only death.

The First Men had warred with the Children of the Forest for thousands of years until they had made a pact in peace to end it. He also knew that somehow, enough was understood between them, that only a man in Craster, had come to an arrangement that kept him and his wives safe, at the cost of any infant sons he had.

But if something needed to be exchanged for peace, Jon was not a man about to send the innocents he's fought to protect, to do it for him. He needed to do it himself. Jon knew too, it was why his Uncle Benjen had refused to let Jon even think of coming with him beyond the Wall. He was headed to the Frost Fangs, and was never seen again. But the Others were still coming, if his uncle survived or not, that hadn't been enough.

Jon knew, he needed to be enough now.

She was trying not to freak out, Jon and yourself could tell. Were she still just a young girl, likely Arya would have let herself be as emotional she felt but now it was trapped inside of her and fighting to not come out, to be brave. “You can't separate us now.”

Your silence remaining as calm as could be in the room, knowing the two of them could easily let this fly off the handle if one lost their cool. Meaning it was on your shoulders to prevent as such. “That isn't what this is. This is about survival.”

Her eyes wanting to shine with water, but held back. The sorrow however, remained. “We're family, we survive this together, not apart, not when I came back just to find-”

Jon moved from where he had been standing in front of her, moving Arya back some as he guided her to sit on the edge of her bed. Crouching in front of her so she could look more down at him this time, nothing but a steadfast assurance shined bright in his eyes. The low rasp just as comforting despite the words. “We need each other. To survive this winter together, but we can't do that when it's only us. Bran is still out there, Uncle Benjen is still out there. We aren't a family together if they're still trapped somewhere in the North.”

A quick glance up towards you, you were the collected confidence for her as Jon was the soothing support in front. He had been the calm one telling you, so you had to be the calm one as he tells her now. Arya's tone weak as she looked back to her brother pleading, “Can't I go with you? You know I can handle myself now-”

Shaking his head, Jon reached a hand up to cup the side of her head. “I need you here. These aren't just my people, they're yours too. So I need you to stay here, and lead them until I return.” Her head tried to tilt in beg, but did not wish to sacrifice the soothing feeling of his hand. Jon, read such words not needing spoken a single one out loud. Leaning in a bit more, his eyes more stern without anything harsh. “You're a Stark, and my sister. You're the only one I trust to take care of the North while I'm gone.”

It took Arya a good moment before nodding. Jon giving her the space then to breathe without moving away from her in proximity. Both of you felt the heaviness of leaving her behind here, but perhaps, you felt different because it wasn't the first time. Robb and yourself had this very conversation with Bran when you went south. But for the two of them now, it was the first time they've had to have this new dynamic of separation.

Walking a few steps forward, you came closer to where Jon knelt. The sensation of one hand of his gently wrapping around the shin closest to him with a warm caressing feeling. Neither of you quite sure if it was for you, or for his sake. “Everyone else is staying here, you'll have them to help you the whole way. Keep their spirits strong instead of letting it shatter, someone has to be here to ensure your people don't lose hope the longer we're gone. They need to believe, and you have to lead it.”

It cracked out in a desperation which Arya seemed to backtrack the moment it spit from her mouth. “When are you coming back?”

But Jon would not lie, not to her. “I don't know.” Don't let that thought shake you, you told yourself. A deep inhale, and Jons hand tightened on your shin. He felt the same. Stay strong in front of her, because she had to have hope to lead with it. A tender tone, low and calm as Jon used his other hand to gently hold at the back of her neck to make proper eye contact. “But we are coming back, Arya. This isn't a goodbye forever.”

Crackling of fire the only thing filling the room for a moment before a deep inhale finally smoothed out the scattering worry in her tone. Finding a confidence in her nod and a return of determination in her eyes. “You're right, it can't be forever. Because if you have to come back, then you also have to make sure you bring Bran back.”

A small chuckle left Jon, pulling one from her as swell. The ease of which made them look almost as young as they were when they first had to part ways for a long time. By the time a hug was shared, you however, begun to feel the opposite. Your own goodbyes were not going to be as simple or heartfelt.

Some were easier then others.

Gendry had the exact reaction you expected. He was a Baratheon in blood after all. And what did Baratheons do best towards one another? Get angry and yell. “So your fathers in the North where at any moment he could find me again, and when I actually find a different person in this family I don't hate, you take off too?”

The narrowing in your eyes was almost childishly annoyed, but so was his anger. Neither of you were really approaching this with a formality, but then again, none in your family did that correct. “Stannis has no reason to come to Winterfell, and by chance he does, go wandering through Winter Town. He won't step foot in there, he doesn't have the patience for how crowded it is.” Glancing down you could tell his hand was twitching by the hammer. “I can't tell if you're currently thinking about using that on my father, or me.”

Looking between, Gendry all but tossed it back down a foot or so away from him. Turning from you to grab at a rag by the mostly empty armoury by that point. “I'm still deciding.”

Sighing, you glanced around and walked further into the space to avoid the trailing ears which might be struck by curiosity. Whispering more as you barrelled into his space to swiftly move in front of him, cutting off his path to force him to face you. “You wish to be angry I'm leaving, that is your right. But this has nothing to do with taking off or leaving you behind. I have to do this, and you don't have to like it, but you do have to accept it.”

Breathing out, the breath cold enough for both of you it flowed visibly after each word or exhale, even beside the warmth of the hearth. His tone was irritated, but his expression spoke that of something far less with said intention. “Fine. But you have to promise me you'll come back. It can't just be me and your father left, that's a disaster waiting to happen.”

Neither but you two quite grasped what had made the Queen in the North and the new blacksmith laugh so genuinely in the quiet with one another, but it was easy for you two all the same. You could see her face though, and despite the awareness that Jon would not like it if he knew this, you had to press on something anyways. “Take care of Arya while we're gone. She'll pretend like she is handling it better then she's going to really feel, and she will need someone who cares about her at her side more then ever.”

Nodding with a seriousness, you held back that splurge of questions and thoughts. Teasing him was not the time, and it wouldn't be for a good while. Gendry was as serious as ever. “I will. I'll look after the kid too. Don't imagine he'll be too happy about this.”

No one was. Not you, Jon, Arya, none. But there was no use in not doing something because it didn't fit your idea of a perfect life. You had never had that, and neither had Jon. Until the snows stopped, you wouldn't get a proper chance to start it, so you would suffer until the end.

Theon though, you had no idea where to start. What to say. Out of everyone you had not wished to truly leave behind again, it was him. He was the only reason you even were alive beyond that horrored year coming back. The only thing that kept you going in any meaningful way because as pathetic as states you both were in, you were all the other had.

If by the slow approach you had walked into the room with didn't say enough, it was the quiet dismissal of his men from the room which spoke volumes. Or the quiet closing of the door as you leaned against it, hands crossing your front. But he knew you well at this point.

Well enough that it was bad news, and news he wasn't going to be part of. “Just say it.”

Your eyes flickered up from nothing back to him, and you hesitated. Mouth opening and closing a number of times before sighing. Walking in as you without any proper decorum, walked to the table he had been hovering around.

The guilt was heavy, and you hated that on the outside, he seemed to take it the best. But he also didn't quite take it with much emotion either. He wasn't saying it, but Theon had suspected something like this was coming and if there was any proof he was as much a Stark as Greyjoy, he had down the pattern of Starks withholding their emotions to remain distant in the face of hardship.

You wished he would get upset, because if you didn't come back, you knew Theon enough he would be the guilty one leaving things this way. But as it was, he refused to give anything away. He kept it as inside as you were. It was the easiest, but it was also the worst. “Theon-”

He had cut you off hardly through your explanation, he had heard enough and you felt something shatter in the degree to which he was instantly shutting you out. “I heard you, your grace.”

You two stood across the room from one another, and he wouldn't even look your way, not at the silence as you looked wide eyed at his distance or the shattering in your heart that the one person you needed to talk this through with, responded so badly he wouldn't even look at you.

He had turned to you after a breath, “Is there anything else?”

Oh there were many, but not a single one he wanted to hear. In a single conversation, the only one you had relied on for months had shut you out in one fell swoop. If you were still teenagers, you would've stood there arguing with him until you understood each other, but you wouldn't argue now and he knew it.

The night had found itself in a close, and just as it was going to be for a good while, eventually there was none left but you and Jon. “There really isn't any other way?”

Your eyes pleaded with him, the inevitable would come but he had the advent of being stronger at keeping the same dread more inside. He stayed calm so he could too calm you, sitting next to you on the bed he was sure as anything. He hadn't thought of this fleetingly, it had been on his mind a while now and there was no more mistake of it.

Running a hand along the hair at the side of your head, Jon let it drift to cup your cheek as he leaned in to you, you doing the same as your own hands found his shoulders and back of his neck. “We both know we have to do this.” Nodding your head, barley contained was a swallowing of something too fearful close to the surface. Jon shifted quickly, cupping both of your cheeks to gently guide you to look back up at him. His tone soft and eyes even softer, despite it all nothing but love sat in the greys. “All my life I've tried to protect you, and you gave me a new life to finally do just that. But if we don't do this, I won't be able to protect you no matter what.”

Running along the back of his neck, a choking feeling was overwhelming your senses as much as Jons very presence so close soothed them. Breathing out what wanted to be a cry, Jon pressed your forehead to his, running one hand once more along the hair at the back of your head as your fingers found his curls. Whispering gently, “So far only one person’s ever come back before.”

Nudging your nose with his, Jon still kept your own fear at bay. “Maybe we'll be the second.” A laugh in a single huff left you, bringing a far brighter one out of Jon. Grey eyes bright as he looked better at you, the hand on your cheek letting his thumb run across the soft skin he found. “I know you're scared, darling. I promise I am too, but if this is what they want, we have to give it to them. I told you we belong together, you, me, our son, all three of us belong together, even if it’s out there. If they wanted me alone-”

Shaking your head, you grasped onto the curls loose around him tighter, Jon shifting to keep you close as well. “You can't go alone. You told me I have to let you protect me, right? You can't do that if we're apart can you?”

Jon only smiled the slightest bit, the thumb on your cheek drifting to your lips with a gentle murmur. “No, I can't.”

Inhaling deeply, you finally looked up at him. Nothing ever but the man you love. You were brought back scared and alone in this world, and only found purpose when you brought Jon back too. You knew, you had to risk it. There was not a single guarantee you both would come back, but Jon had told you. Maybe you two were always supposed to fight this battle together. Even if you were going to be marching into your last before your new lives had a chance, but you'd do it together.

“Do you know what you're going to say tomorrow?”

Jon nodded, moving from beside you on the bed to pulling you up with him. This time, the manner in which he handled you was only gentle. Far from the roughness of the other nights acts, but you had a feeling Jon had planned it this way. Tease with roughness in your last days, and spend the final in Winterfell with the last true gentleness you both will face for months.

Undoing the laces keeping your layers together, he rasped in your ear. “Mostly. I've written a raven for your father. Ser Davos had said he would tell him, but I thought he should hear it from one of us as well.” Your eyes fluttering shut, a lightness in your chest lulling you into something relaxing as you sounded almost a tad breathless. Jon so carefully taking things off of you without any rush.

You should have felt more concerned at what your father would think, but in truth you knew it was safer not too. You and Jon were doing this no matter what, it didn't matter who disapproved. It was to protect them all from what seemed like the end no matter what. “And what about your new best friend?”

Jon paused for a moment, no doubt his face twisting in confusion as he looked over your shoulder, until the hint of an amused smile was sat on your lips. Chuckling deep in your ear, Jon once more moved back to undressing your heavy layers. “He can't get the North to be more neutral then if I'm not even around to side against him in the first place. And I know you're joking but,” His hands pulled down at the material now loose at your torso, letting it fall as the first to go. Gently grabbing your hips he rasped in your ear. “I already have a best friend, and I married her.”

Heart skipping a beat before floating within your chest, you leaned back into his touch which was so perfectly warm against your back, as you reached across your stomach to hold at the opposite sides hand on your hip while the other reached behind you to gently graze your nails at the skin on the back of his exposed neck. “This is normally the part where I’d ask who the lucky girl was, but I'm not sure if you used to have another proper friend that was a girl besides myself.”

Pressing his chest more against you, Jon somewhat tried to tug you closer. His face leaning down to lay a single kiss below your ear as his breath danced hot across it. “That's because the only girl who gave me the time of day, was the beautiful Baratheon one who tortured me for years.” Questioning the word tortured with a laugh, Jon laughed right back. The sound of it, now that was the truly beautiful thing. “First time I saw you, I wanted to throw up thinking I was going to have to live with such a pretty girl in my home. And then I thought that every single time you came back for almost eight years.”

Quick on the draw you leaned your head back against him relaxed, contrasting to the jest in your teasing finally slipping through. “What, did a new pretty girl come through Winterfell to catch your eye then?” You had no doubt he both was smirking, and rolling his eyes at you simultaneously.

Jon didn't even bother entertaining you on that one, muttering in a mocking of irritation, “May I continue?” Waiting enough for a nod, Jon returned to attending properly to you. Pulling the sleeve of your dress down one arm then the other, he pushed at the material to also drop down to the pool by your feet.

Little left, you swiftly turned in his arms. Your hands grasping at his sides, leaning up to meet his lips with an innocence. “Your turn.” Just a short and chaste kiss, you felt him try to chase you on it before you went right for the belt normally keeping his weapons all on him.

It was always quiet when you did this part with him. You undressing him from the day, whereas Jon found things to talk with you about when he did yours. You were never sure why, maybe it was being used to the familiarity that Robb normally took the reigns in your struggle of such consistent conversation, or perhaps you were more used to the silence between Jon and yourself.

Taking as much care as he did you, it struck you in a flash of your mind how much you were going to miss this. Everything was going to be different soon, and you were sure clothes for that sort of cold did not include gentle intimacy in the undressing procedure. You felt somehow prepared by Jons side yet entirely blind as to what you truly were about to walk in on.

How much this would set you apart should you not be ready to handle yourself that far North. You felt uncomfortable the second it came into your mind, that shade of red. Comparing to that wasn't fair to what she truly was towards Jon, but it poked at your mind all the same. Would the ability to compare change the light he saw you both in?

Not having realized the narrowing in your face as you got him to his final, softest, simple layers did you move from him naturally to put some of his things across his desk. He didn't even want you walking around with anything more then a small knife at this point, would you be a burden if he had to do everything for you out there?

No doubt she didn't need Jon to do things for her basic survival.

You almost shook your head thinking about it, not quite noticing the wide eyed curiosity trained on your every move as Jon stepped towards you carefully. Once, twice he called your name but it was the gentle pull of two fingers at your cheek turning you to face him that did it. His eyes soft without the judgment you worried of. “Where's that beautiful head of yours gone off to?”

Then came that clearer doubt. The way he looked at you? It was foolish to think he'd turn heel and think you useless now of all times. Your insecurities always so desperate to compare yourself to what you feared they should like better. Almost slipping right before Jon, the thought that from what little such visions showed you, she was so very clearly much prettier and fitter then you. Even now, especially the longer you and Jon were out there.

Shaking your head though, you always felt guilty when you did this. You knew what she had done, and still you worried as if she was something ever good to him. He rarely talked about her though, sometimes it was difficult to fill in the blank spaces of your knowledge without the worry of not matching up taking up that mantle.

Jons hands pushed away your thoughts as he dragged the sleeves of your shift, thin on your shoulders and the second your hands were free of what you had been holding, Jon wasted not a second in pushing them down your arms. The silky material slipping easily after such a movement, only to have Jon kneel slightly down to pull the rest hiding you from him off, his hot breath tickling your shivering skin as he pressed a gentle kiss to your mound, then your hipbone, and finally so gently on your scar.

Pulling back, Jon held at your hips to keep you both steady but he only looked at it. Still, there was nothing there. You would be well into the cold wilderness by the time there was anything to look at, but it did not seem to matter to Jon at all. Not disturbing him, you carefully moved to let loose his curls, raking your fingers through to smooth out them out. Voice only a whisper, you tried to coax him back to you. “She's too small to sense you're there yet.”

Leaning forward, Jon pressed another gentle kiss before standing up. Cupping your cheeks he pulled you into a deep, but soft kiss. Barley pulling away with a smile in his voice, “That doesn't mean I won't try. Maester Luwin had said that babies in their mothers wombs can can hear her voice, which means he might be able to hear my voice eventually too. I want him to get used to it.”

You tried pulling away with a shake of your head. “Well, I'm sure she will love that.”

“He will.”

You weren't sure yet if this was just a game between you both. Yourself insisting on a girl, and Jon insisting he already knows it's a boy. Running your hands under the material of his shirt, they rested against his torso almost comfortingly. Feeling some of the scars under your palms, it got a little better each time knowing they were there without that gut wrenching feeling of horror.

Catching your eyes as he pulled back, Jons eyes were bright, painted with something far too soft to handle as he looked at you. A deep rasp as he pressed another kiss to your lips before mumbling against them. “Let me take you in front of the fire tonight.”

By the time you had even knelt on the soft fur in front of his fire, everything on him had already come off swiftly. The differences of such earlier days in your youth compared to now, were night and day. A wave of nerves would come from both of you, not yet confident enough to take anywhere near significant amount of clothes off in front of the other. And yet now, there wasn't the air of a confident man, but merely one comfortable in his own skin when alone with his wife, bare as you were in the cold, winter air but not even slightly bothered by it.

Already, his thick cock was hard and ready, as if it took nothing to work him up to such a state and yet Jon swiftly moved to sit with you down on the fur. Ignoring that by this point, most men would already expect you to take care of them in such a state. But he only ran his hand along the strands of hair by the side of your head, gentle eyes with a hint of an adoring smile easy on his face.

A gentle rasp as he also moved his thumb to brush briefly at your cheek. “All my life I've wanted to have this with you. My wife, the mother of my children, being able to just be together here in our home.” The hand not somewhat keeping you sat upright in place, reached to grasp at his wrist. Thumb running just along his strong, steady pulse.

Leaning to brush your nose against his, Jon returned the gesture right back as you murmured to him. “And we have that, right now we have that. And no matter what happens, we will always have had this together.”

The hand in your hair moved to cup the back of your head, pressing your forehead to his. “I want to tell you I know we're coming back, believe me, I do. I hate that I might be taking all of this way from you for a second time. You don't deserve this.” But you shook your head.

Taking turns easing the others woes it now was in your palms. Your hands resting along his neck and collarbones, running up and down hoping it was anyway soothing. “We deserve to be with each other. We deserve to be together, and we always will be.” You hesitated, but in truth there was no reason to hide it from Jon of all people. “Robb and I promised we'd stay together, and we didn't get that chance. I came back without him, but you have me and I have you. I won't let that slip away this time. Where you go, I go. No matter the path.”

Furrowing his brow, Jon struggled to mutter out, “Does it make me selfish for wanting that?” The answer of no on your lips was so easy you knew it took Jon off guard. Inhaling, he shifted. Pushing your back against the soft furs, as his top half now hovered over you, one hand beside each side of your head as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Good. I've let you go too many times, I'm not allowing you to walk away ever again.”

Barley getting it out before his lips captured yours again, you whispered, “Sounds rather possessive.”

Another kiss pressed to your lips, “I'm a wolf, darling.” Another kiss, deeper that time, and his voice dropping lower then before in desire. “I've been possessive of you since I spent three days and nights taking care of you.” Finally pressing most of his top half down over you, Jon properly kissed you, deepening it without a chance of easing you into it.

For once though, it was not done with greed. It felt more of need. A need shared between two souls desperate to stay together, losing parts of themselves each time they were forced apart, and now the need to stay together overwhelmed until it burned like the fire blazing beside you.

Your hands wrapped around his shoulders and the back of his neck. One hand raking through his curls, pushing some as you did so, out of his way as he kissed you. The other side, tickling long what it brushed of your skin, as Jon guided you to stay with his pace.

Stealing your breaths and sighs, he kept all of them to himself. Brushing his tongue along your bottom lip before ever so gently sliding in your mouth the moment you parted for him. Shifting so his body properly now hovered over you, running his tongue along yours gently before pulling back. You chased his lips just as Jon was weak enough to come back on his own for more, unwilling to part too soon.

One hand now keeping him propped up, the other running down your side before wrapping behind you. Pressing against the small of your back, Jon arched you up into him as he leaned down more to you, switching between licking into your mouth and letting his kiss turn somewhat sloppy simply unable to pull away from you each time a small whine broke from your lips.

One of your legs moved up as he arched you more into his chest, rising up along his hip he instead slid that same hand down to wrap around your thigh, keeping you hoisted up by your lower half now into his. His cock brushing against your inner thigh and core, but he seemed to ignore it despite each feeling sparking something tingling in the spot begging to be touched more.

Now leaning a bit more on his knees, Jon used the leverage to cup the back of your neck and keeping you pressed against his kiss. The greed still not there as much as an urgency deepening it as all could be heard was the fire crackling beside you both and your breathing running harsher with every passing brush of your lips together.

Slowly before you could truly notice it seemed, Jon begun to raise the leg his arm held to him higher and higher. Barley tearing himself from your lips enough, you could see the saliva connecting you both snap as his lips parted in a breathless need as he dragged your leg so your thigh sat up over his shoulder. Not giving you the chance to protest, Jon did the same with the other and held each there over his shoulders with both strong arms. Kissing down from the stretched position he had you in, between your breasts and long your stomach and scar before reaching your mound once again.

Pressing his forehead against it, Jon shamelessly groaned. As husking of his voice he sounded it too was slurred by what felt like ramblings of an accent so thick Jon likely didn't even notice he said anything, but you heard it muttered against you as hot as his breath was. “Gods, I love the way you taste..”

Before you could breathlessly point out he hadn't done anything yet, Jon kissed down to your clit. As if teasing and licking and kissing as if it were your breasts, Jon barley cared about any patterns or even any decorum. He sucked and nibbled at it with such a sloppiness it made you far more worked up and wet for him then even before.

Greed was when he held your hips to his mouth, this was a need of something too raw inside of Jon for words to express. Licking at your clit until your back arched, but Jons firm grip on your thighs over his shoulders kept most of you in place. Hands spread beside you trying to grasp at the short furs below you, gasps and small whines of need high pitched from your mouth with pleases you did not understand what for.

Burning from your clit up into your core and stabbed like an edged blade through your blood stream but you couldn't keep grounded long enough to try and let the fire inside simmer. The embers blazed in the wind right to igniting wild in you, a coil twisting so quickly as Jon ran his tongue desperately along your clit before slowly making his way down just enough to tease you before coming right back up to the bundle of nerves.

Something growling in Jons chest vibrated against you, finally causing one hand to reach down. Grasping at his curls the only thing which dragged you out of the darkness and so much more at his mercy. “Oh gods, Jon please..”

Eyes so dark they were nearly black, Jon almost glared up at you before grunting as he sucked at your clit harshly. The gasp leaving you so high pitched and so desperate, it had him nearly rolling his eyes into the back of his head as he returned to you, even just taking care of your clit he felt out of his mind at how much he adored it.

In a split second, Jons hands gripped your legs tightly as if he could sense it. Arching unknowingly into his mouth, your clit felt as if it took that spark of fire and burned it right through you with more begs of Jons name. Hardly as your orgasm begun, did Jon run his tongue flat along your folds and deeply buried himself proper into your cunt just as you grew that much more wet around his now desperate for the taste, tongue to lick along your walls inside of you.

Cries without words pouring from you, his hair a lifeline keeping you tethered to the ground and not floating into the air away forever but he kept running his mouth and tongue so deeply inside of you, tasting your wetness with a grunting sound and yanking your legs more up to his mouth. His dark curls all you could see as he held you to lean down more into your cunt with a vigour.

Not letting you go, he drank deeply from you as if consumed by the taste, an unwillingness to ease up despite your breath not having caught up. The high feeling in your mind as if you hadn't truly come down yet and Jon growling words you would not hear into your cunt made you that much worse, but you'd never protest against him.

His facial hair burned raw against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but it mixed with the warm wetness of his tongue brushing deep inside of you with need. A contrast that had your eyes fluttering closed unable to handle seeing beyond what of his dark curls were buried between your legs, holding you to him.

It twisted inside of you faster and faster then you could convey with words but you knew you must have been soaking his mouth as he was soaking your core with every drink he refused to give up. No effort Jon even had to put forth before he dragged you to your finish so soon after the first you felt tears forming as you burned from within. Growling more into your cunt, Jon refused to let you go even after your orgasm settled and the ringing in your ears left.

Not until he was satisfied, hands tighter and tighter, bruises would be left on you by the morning but he could not seem to pull away. He never refused your peak, he dragged you from one to the next with babbling pleads of his name which Jon took as a beg for mercy, and proceeded to deny any semblance of it. One to the next, you felt your heart straining at how much you could not be allowed to come down.

You had no concept of how much time had even passed by the time he pulled away. More then five he had given you, but you weren't sure beyond that. The fog in your head taken over by his touch. Shoving your legs off of him wide, Jon spared no time in pulling from your core and rising up to press you back into the furs. Hands sliding underneath you to grasp at your ass, one handful roughly in each of his large hands as he licked his way into your mouth. Gifting you the taste he had taken from you over and over in the long time he kept you there.

Not pulling away enough to keep his lips from brushing against yours Jon rambled, “I'm bringing you home, alright? I promised you a son, and you promised me a daughter. So I'm bringing you home, darling. No matter what, we're coming home and we'll have as many as you want.” Nodding against him, you cupped both of his cheeks and surged back to seek his lips again.

Barley convincing himself to let go of your ass long enough to shift along you. Lining up his leaking, throbbing cock with the core he had soaked you to, Jon growled against your lips once more. “We didn't come back for this to be the end.”

Nodding, you cried out as soon as the burn stretched you. Sliding his thick cock deep inside of you, your walls tight and warm and knowing despite that you gave him no resistance from how utterly soaking you were. Muttering to his kiss, “I love you.”

Moving his hands, Jon once more pulled a thigh up to his hip, the other grasping at a hand in his hair and pushing it down beside your head. Interlocking his fingers with yours he gazed down at you with dark eyes. Your face twisted in a pleasure he could not look way from, as his own jaw clenched trying to keep himself together.

Sliding so smoothly in and out of you, Jons cock was so soaked that were you to hear it over your own breathless cries you'd have been embarrassed. Dragging slowly, you almost wanted to beg him to speed up, but the sheer prospect of it made you just as upset were he to change how gentle and slow he moved what so ever.

Keeping your eyes on his, something sensitive along your walls Jon moved against so steadily each time he thrusted slow back inside of you, dragging you back into a burning desire all over again but without the words to speak such a desperate language beyond begs of his name.

Nodding down at your need, Jon leaned back down to capture your lips. Murmuring between kisses to ramble, his own face twisting, jaw clenching and a groan wanting to leave his mouth each time he slid as deep as you could take him at a cruelly slow pace. “I love you so much.”

Biting your lip as a whine wanted to slip by, the twisting of a coil inside you so tight that it would snap in a single second at any point you felt your eyes sting at the pleasure his cock could only ever show you alone. “I'll always love you, I'm yours, gods I promise I'll always be yours..”

His hips sinking into you so deeply, both your bodies with a sheen of sweat not even from the fire, but he pressed his forehead to yours. Never allowing himself to go rougher, or pick up the pace he nodded against you before pulling himself up. Keeping your back flat, he let go of your hand to hold both your hips. Watching his cock at the slow speed sink deeply inside of your cunt, and each time as slow he pulled out of you and the amount you soaked his cock Jon closed his eyes rambling nothing but swears rough and harsh in his throat before looking back. Each drag of Jons cock inside and of you was as deep as he could sink and pulling out almost entirely but the tip before once more gliding back inside.

Never sped up, never got rougher, and it wasn't even lust in his eyes, almost a wonder as Jon watched his length disappear deep inside of you. As if even now, he could not believe this was his. But it was, and you wanted him to always take you exactly when and how he wished. You would hand your body over for his pleasure only if Jon had asked that of you, and you'd never fight him for it. You'd offer yourself up to be something to touch and fuck for his own need and he was the only man you'd beg to do to you as such.

But he wouldn't want you to say that, so you tried to gently match his pace, dropping his head and gripping your hips more firmly. It took a strain on his muscles to never change his gentle slow push inside of you, and how he almost regretted each time he came close to pulling out. “You're perfect darling, you've been so good for me..my perfect, beautiful wife..mother of my children..”

Jon did himself in, groaning with his head dropping and eyes sealing closed. Jons cock throbbed warm inside of you, but it was not too early nor late. Opening his eyes, Jon watched you with almost too innocent of eyes for what he was doing. Dragging you right along that line with him, you clenched around him just as Jon sunk as deep as he could inside of you. Covering your body with his and pressing his lips in need to yours, Jon finally let go as well.

Spilling his seed deep inside of you as you were so tight cumming around him, it was as if he couldn't leave your warm walls. Not that Jon wanted too, at all. Pouring his cum thick inside of you, he knew coming home was necessary. He needed this for the rest of his life, and not short either. He needed this for as long as he could and not a second sooner. Your hands wrapped around the back of his neck and curls he hid his face in your neck as soon as he moved from your lips as you leaned to hide in his hair.

Slow thrusts moving to nearly nothing but Jon never let up. His cock still so slow inside of you, making you shake and cry gently in his ear as much as he wanted to keep cumming inside of you.

Once more, Jon wasn't sure how long he was inside of you that night. But pressed against one another on the furs in his chamber in front of the fire? Neither of you could think a better way then to slowly take one another until sleep found you.

Jon only pulling out once you were asleep, and carrying you gently to the bed. As soon as he had climbed in beside you, you curled into his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around you. Unlike many times before, sleep found Jon easy. Relaxed in your embrace as you were nuzzled into his chest, neither of you for once, dreamed of any sort.

They had all debated if they agreed with it.

Arguing back and forth what they thought should truly be done and there was none who found such firm ways to think on it. Claims that the King and Queen in the North should stay in the North, but once more it could only be argued back that the it's the North all the same, he's the one who has been there and knows how to survive out there.

There were more crammed into that meeting hall then ever before to hear it, and the plans laid out but Jon gave no room to give the idea he could be convinced otherwise. “The answers don't lay here, it's out there. And it's waiting for us to come their way. But if we only stand here, don't do everything we can to protect our people, they'll come for us anyways. When dead men and worse come hunting for us in the night, is the King you want to stand by one who holes up in his castle? Hiding behind high walls as their army turns our homes into a graveyard?”

Whispers had begun to spread. They didn't have to like it, but they had to accept this was necessary. They had to accept that they named Jon their King, and a King does everything in his power to fight for his Kingdom. No matter the cost.

You would leave to Castle Black, Jon knew the best of paths from there and he made it clear to everyone in that meeting hall once the tunnel was closed behind him, none were to follow for any reason. “If I bring an army at my back, they'll fight us like an army. And we cannot afford that, not anymore. I need all of you here, protecting the ones you love. Not dying beyond the Wall where your bodies will be burned and left behind.” Your name coming confident from his mouth, you had stood by him as sure as he and they all needed you too. “We will find the answers beyond the Wall ourselves, not sending out people into their deaths to do it for us. And I will find my little brother, and your children too. Meera and Jojen Reed, Brandon Stark, wherever they are, we will find them and bring them home too.”

By the time you had reached Castle Black, it had been nowhere near the week long scramble to escape the last time had been. Hardly any had come, but the spectacle in the courtyard of was loud and busy as things were swiftly prepared. It was Tormunds home you were venturing into, and he was the last to see you both off with a goodbye.

The North had pled that they needed their King, but as you both walked through to where the tunnel's gate awaited to rise, you both had the confidence they needed to see regardless of what end this path led too.

They wanted their King and Queen with them in the North, Jon and you wanted to be home together to start a true family as you scarcely dreamed of having, but the white cold was approaching, and the dead with would ride with it. Jon had put it in the perfect terms to his people, regardless of wants and fears of what you were leaving behind.

He said it exactly as Jeor Mormont once said it to him, because the Old Bear was never more right about it, then now. “I will not stand meekly by and wait for the snows.”

Jon had gone to see his father, and perhaps the last time, see the mother he never had a chance to know. She had watched over him his whole life here, but she couldn't now, and Jon had to hope she knew at the least, however much she loved him in the short time they had with each other, he'd never forget the short time as a man he's known he was her son. A final goodbye to Rickon resting peacefully by their father, Jon had said goodbye to him too.

Jon wasn't a man of many words, but he hoped Eddard Stark understood, he was still now and forever, the only father Jon had, wanted or needed.

You nor Jon knew when you would come back, or what you would even find once you reached the heart of winter the Others called from. But you would find out one way or another, be it peace or death, you would find out. Your purpose was Jon, but Jons was his people. And a King did everything in his power to protect his people regardless of his life, or yours. Both of you on a horse, and standing tall beside Jon with Ghost doing the same. Follow Jon to whatever ends this led.

The tunnel gates opened, and you, Ghost, and the White Wolf by your side, finally did not look back.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 months

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Original Writing Project: 916

OKAY, now that I've edited the first few chapters enough, I think it's finally time to have its debut to you all!

This is an original sci-fi story completely written by me, with MAJOR influences from things like Gundam and whatnot.

I want to post it here to get your all's feedback and just to share some good ol' storytelling, so please let me know what you guys think of it, your feedback/comments is always read by me!

I expect to have the first few chapters out sometime during this week after your normal schedule of simping, but this post will just be covering what the main idea of the story is/what shows/games is influencing it.

Below the cut is the blurb, inspirations, main characters, and a story excerpt!

First of all, thank you so much for even pressing the keep reading tab/showing any remote interest. I understand this isn't really what you come to this blog for, so it means the world to me!

Anyways, first up is the story blurb:

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Story Blurb:

The year is 1177. Thirty-four years have passed since the battlefield had been introduced to the bipedal warmachines known as Soldat D’acier. Though they only stand a few meters above tanks, they were able to reduce armored divisions to scrap metal, and fortresses once thought impenetrable transformed to piles of rubble.

The entire continent of Anis rushed their militaries into an arms race to have their own versions of these steel behemoths.

In the name of expansion and rightful conquest, the country of Florence had declared war on Cumbria in 1155. The invasion saw countless deployments of Soldats on both sides, and death quickly followed in their wake. The two nations signed a peace treaty to end hostilities after five long years, but their crimes wouldn't be so easily forgotten by the people, nor its creations.

Now, the man-made atrocities emerging from the "Enhanced Human Initiative" stoke the flames of war once more, forcing an uneasy alliance. And from the same crime that threatens them, comes their final hope: Enhanced Human 916.

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Inspirations:

Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blooded Orphans, Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury Mobile Suit Gundam: Narrative Mobile Suit Gundam: Unicorn Mobile Suit Gundam: Zeta The Legend of Heroes: Trails of Cold Steel, Armored Core 6: Fires of Rubicon, Scarlet Nexus, Metal Gear Solid: Peace Walker, Girls' Frontline,

I was not joking when I said the major influences are from Gundam. At first I was worried about not being 100% original, but eh. Write what you love, right? Elements of the story, themes, suits, and a unholy amount more is snatched from all the Gundam shows listed above.

Armored Core 6 is what inspired the look of the "Soldats", and how combat flows in the story. The main lead, 916, is called numbers bc of the player character 621. (I also learned that the reasons I chose that number came from my subconscious, specifically Darling in the Franxx and that character, 196 aka Ikuno)

Scarlet Nexus inspired some of the tech things regarding the pilots being able to "read each other's minds" so to speak. Pretty much a less space-magic version of being a Newtype from Gundam, as well as other characters.

Trails of Cold Steel and Girls' Frontline inspired the other cast members, and speaking of which:

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Main Cast:

Wolf Company

Enhanced Human 916, "Vi", Age: 21

A young man who escaped the "Enhanced Human Initiative." Due to augmentation and surgeries, he remains stoic and emotionless, but thanks to his adoptive family, has shown signs of opening up. Earned his nickname after his violet eyes.

He pilots the Soldat R1-N0, "Rhino", a bulky mech utilizing rush and ambush tactics, armed with a 60mm Autocannon and Heat Dagger.

A/N: Titular character, heavily inspired by Byleth (Fire Emblem Three Houses), and Mikazuki (Iron-Blooded Orphans). My second favorite character to write so far in the story, ironically.

David Collins, "Boss", Age: 53

Leader of a PMC called "Wolf Company". David took 916 in at a young age and raised him to be part of the "family". Loud and proud, he takes great pride in all serving underneath him, and has known to have a temper in anything regarding his age. Earned his nickname since calling him "Boss" was more comfortable for everyone.

He pilots the Soldat "Juggernaut', a machine with the legs of a tank, but upper half of a mech with arms. Armed with wrist-mounted machine guns and twin battle-cannons on top of its shoulders.

A/N: Inspired by Maine from Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. Don't look too much into that, don't worry. You can also tell from just his dialogue how much I like writing him too. He is my number 1 favorite to write.

Chloe, "Flare", Age: 35

Second in command of "Wolf Company. Chloe is extremely loud, complementing her foul-mouthed nature. Generally regarded as the "Big SIster" of the team. Earned her nickname from her extremely short temper.

She pilots the Soldat "Mantis", a lanky and smaller machine focusing on blitz tactics, able to leap surprisingly massive heights due to its inverted legs.

A/N: Inspired by Bianca (Gundam Thunderbolt), Sasha (Attack on Titan) and Miku (Darling in the Franxx). To everyone I have shown this story thus far, she has been the fan favorite, including her partner in crime:

Hayes, "Screw", Age: 32

The newest "rookie" of Wolf Company. Impulsive, a little too confident in himself but admittedly a talented sniper, Hayes is always eager to prove himself. Earned his nickname from either screwing himself over, or the enemy.

He pilots the Soldat "Phantom", a mech focusing on stealth and sniping, able to keep itself off enemy radar.

A/N: Inspired by Connie (Attack on Titan) and Zorome (Darling in the Franxx). Him and Chloe are a fun combo, as you will soon see.

There's eight more main characters, but I'll let you read their introduction yourself! 916 and Wolf Company will be the ones we'll be following the most throughout the story. Though this part of the cast was heavily inspired by Iron-Blooded Orphans. For those who watched the show, again, don't read too much into that.

===

The last thing I'll have for this post will be an excerpt from the prologue to get things started! Hopefully my slow ass will have the prologue out soon, so please look forward to it!

Without further ado-

===

Story Excerpt:

===

“Doctor Moreau, do you think we go to heaven?” asked the small girl.

Doctor Moreau stopped typing for a moment as her eyes glanced over the terminal, seeing the child laying on the operating table, standing out from the rest of the clean black walls and white tiles. The room was supported with soft lights illuminating the room, complemented by the blue screens and dizzying amount of automated surgical equipment quietly whirring into position.

Moreau pushed her aging white hair away from her eyes, looking at the child, subject designated 403. 403 was about seven, she barely stood up to Moreau’s stomach and had long black hair that stopped at her shoulders. The light blue gown was slightly too big for her, the sleeves extending over most of her hands and just revealing her fingers. Seeing her face again reminded Doctor Moreau of 403's rather inquisitive nature.

“Why are you asking that, 403?” Moreau replied, her tone indifferent. Her fingers went back to typing as she sighed. “If you’re worried about the procedure, the chips are perfectly safe to implant. There has been no previous record of anyone dying from-”

“-But I’m going to die after.”

“...What?”

“After the chip goes into me. Will the others and I go to heaven?”

The question had caught the doctor completely off guard. Moreau had answered questions such as, “Will this hurt?”, or “Do I have to?”. This question was something she could not answer with her usual dismissive tone. She sat up straight in her seat now and turned to look at the child. 403's eyes were still fixated on the ceiling.

“Why are you so certain you’re going to die, 403?”

“That’s what my brother told me. When the chip goes into our brain, we’re sent off to die.”

The girl’s voice stated it as a matter of fact. There was no confusion in her tone of what was to become of her. Doctor Moreau had no response as she stared at 403 with her mouth slightly open. The child simply turned her head, facing her and expectantly waiting for an answer.

“... I certainly hope there’s a heaven, 403. I’m sure heaven will allow good kids like you and your brother.”

“What about my friends? Will they-”

“We’re about to begin the surgery. Please face up towards the light and close your eyes.” Moreau bluntly cut off the conversation.

403 pouted, but complied. It was clear that the answer did not satisfy her as much as she wanted it to. Doctor Moreau took a second to recover and focus back on the job at hand. Facing back towards the terminal, she began typing once more. With the input of several passwords and confirmations, the surgery to implant the combat data-chip into 403’s brain would commence. Afterwards, she would be sent to her brother’s unit, and be deployed to the battlefield.

Just like all the others.

This room had always been nothing out of the ordinary to Moreau. The same procedure had been repeated more times than she could count and yet why did this one make it so hard to breathe all of a sudden?

“Doctor Moreau?”

“Yes, 403?”

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“You may.”

“Can I listen to that song you always play? The one that goes ‘Lalalalala~’? I want to hear it one more time before I sleep. I really like it.”

Doctor Moreau’s lips suddenly dried up as she once again stopped typing. With a slightly trembling hand, she turned to the radio sitting on her desk and nodded.

“...Of course, 403. No more questions, please.”

She could see the smile form on 403’s lips as the mask was gently put onto her face, the anesthesia slowly starting to pump into 403’s lungs.

“...Thank you.”

Doctor Moreau swallowed hard as her finger pressed the on switch of her old radio. Despite being in such a high tech surgical room, her radio was comically outdated. It was a small gray oval-like object that only had a speaker and a few buttons. To even put music in it, she had to insert a smaller rectangle that contained the songs in it via tape. It was a gift from her father when she was 403’s age, the thought of their roles being reversed not lost on the doctor.

‘Sing, sing a song Let the world sing along Sing of love there could be Sing for you and for me…~’

Doctor Moreau could hear 403 softly hum along to the song as her voice gradually became quieter, and eventually turning into soft breathing. The whirring of the surgical equipment and the radio being the only things in the room left making noise. The only remaining step was for Doctor Moreau to approve the procedure to implant the chip into 403’s brain.

“Is there heaven…” the doctor quietly repeated the question to herself, attempting to ignore 403’s startling self awareness of the situation.

"Authorization confirmed, Implant procedure beginning.” A deep robotic voice rang out across the room as the sound of a drill began drowning out the other equipment. Doctor Moreau sat on her chair as she closed her eyes, waiting for the procedure to be done and turning off the radio in the process.

“For me, I don’t think so…Heaven was lost to me long ago.”

...

‘Sing, sing a song Make it simple to last Your whole life long~’

The Doctor was snapped out of her melancholy as the music continued playing. Sighing, she moved to turn it off for good.

“Piece of junk is starting to-” She stopped as her finger was about to hit the switch.

The radio was still off.

Listening closely again, Moreau realized the singing was coming outside of the door.

‘Don't worry that it's not Good enough for anyone Else to hear~’

Creeping towards the door, the doctor put her ears to it and heard what sounded like a chorus singing. The song wasn’t over the intercom, otherwise the voice would be far clearer.

Instead it sounded like-

A sudden sense of dread hit the doctor as she swung the doors open and ran towards the hangar. Multiple guards and scientists were opening the doors along the long gray hallway, joining Moreau and investigating what the noise was. When they finally got to the railing after the doors slid open, none of them could speak.

‘Just sing, sing a song (Just sing, sing a song) Just sing, sing a song~’

Inside the massive hangar stood rows of countless Soldats, giant bipedal machines that stood several meters tall, lined up next to each other as if they were statues. Their bulky legs stood firmly in place and the compact yet slender arms did not move an inch.

The only things moving were their horned box-like heads, slowly moving side to side in perfect sync. Each of the voices emerging from the Soldats were different but singing in perfect harmony.

Their normally offline and horizontal segregated visors were suddenly flickering to life with blue lights, illuminating the large dark room with bright blue rays.

‘La la la la la, la la la la La la la la la la laaaaa~’

Doctor Moreau could hear the voices of security guards rushing down the stairs to halt the singing, shouting orders at the others to back away.

However, the doctor could only hear their cheerful singing along with her breathing becoming noticeably shorter with each second, feeling her chest tighten.

Once again, the question 403 springed up to the forefront of her mind.

“Is there heaven?”

...

===

And that's the first part of the prologue done, hope to have this out soon, and again if you got this far, thanks for taking the time!

See ya soon, and back to the normal content for now!

#not an ask #chris's thoughts #oc story

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venus-of-the-hrdsell · 1 year

Note

I want to get into Zatanna comics but I’m not sure where to start. What series do you recommend?

Hello! Don't worry, I can give you a short starting guide + some recommendations on this post so you can read without having to dive fully into thousands of issues (unless you want a detailed guide of more appearances).

The usual go to for any beginner is Zatanna (2010) by Paul Dini. It's her longest solo comic (16 issues) and it fits as a stand alone.

If you are interested, I'm currently working in a masterlist reading guide of her appearances. Zatanna is a very old character, so a lot of her appearances are scattered as cameo and team books, so often finding what to read is hard. If you want to get a little further into her character, these options I'm about to mention are good as well. More under the cut because this is a long post.

- Secret Origins (1988) (volume 2) #27

Offers a summary about of Zatanna's origin in the DC universe. A bit old, so the scans can be blurry, but still a nice read.

- Zatanna Special (1987) by Gerry Conway & Gray Morrow

Zatanna gets contacted by the ghost of her mother Sindella, which leads her to travel to secret city of the Homo Magi with her manager. A lot of details about her background are revealed her, it's one of my favourite comics for her.

Zatanna: Come Together (1993) by Lee Mars & Esteban Maroto

Four issue mini in which Zatanna tries to get a fresh new start in San Francisco, temporally retiring from her superhero career. Unfortunately, she doesn't expect to find her stay disrupted by a supernatural threat infesting the city. Still one of my favourite comics of her and the art is amazing too. It also explores her background from her mother's side of the family, which is always good and underrated.

Zatanna: Everyday Magic (2003) by Paul Dini & Rick Mays (one shot)

We see Zatanna in her best moment as a famous stage magician in a long tour. She seems to be doing great, but she still fights to have an ordinary personal life. Things get complicated when her former partner, John Constantine, shows up on her life once again.

This is a fun story! It's Zatanna only Vertigo solo book. There are some poorly aged jokes and the art is not everyone's cup of tea, but it's a fun light hearted read for everyone.

Zatanna: Seven Soldiers (2007) by Grant Morrison & Ryan Sook

Zatanna attends a superhero support group. Her powers are weak and she finds herself in a low spot in her life, but the arrival of a mysterious girl pushes her to go on a tripe to find her father's missing journals.

This mini series is part of a bigger event written by Morrison called Seven Soldiers of Victory, but it can be read as a stand alone. If you want further context, I recommend reading the event, though.

I really like this comic, though. I wish we got to see more of Zatanna's mentorship role.

Black Canary & Zatanna: Bloodspell (2015) by Paul Dini & Joe Quinones.

A fun team up comic! It's an original graphic novel. I love Zee and Dinah's friendship.

Wonder Woman: Agent of Peace (2020) #15

A fun team up issue with Diana and Zee spending quality time together.

Justice League Dark (2011) (New52) & Justice League Dark (2018) (Rebirth)

Now, to clarify. I don't necessarily recommend the Justice League Dark books, but I'm incluiding them since most of Zee post new 52 appearances are in these two books which are...a mixed bag. Justice League Dark (new 52) wasn't of my liking with the exception of the last third of the whole book (Dematteis did a good job, probably the best out of the three writers heading the book). Earlier writers didn't know how to handle Zatanna, her personality is very watered down just as well as her abilities, and she isn't really given spotlight, leadership and full potential of her abilities until Dematteis takes the pen. I also don't enjoy how off was the characterisation of other characters of the book and the overall writing quality and pace, but that's a story for another post.

Justice League Dark (Rebirth) is a step up in quality from New52, but unfortunately it continues with the weird personality shift in Zatanna's personality and the a lackuster character design. As much as I love Diana, who is part of this team line up, I think Zatanna should have been given the leader role and the spotlight. Out of this book, I sincerely enjoyed Ram V's stage on the later half on this run, who deserved to stay longer on this title.

That said, you can take a look on these titles, but you know, at least you know what to expect.

Bonus: Graphic novels, webtoons and stand alone stories

DC's new talent showcase (2018)

Truth and Justice (2020) #7 - 9

Zatannna & the Ripper (Available for Free in Webtoon, still ongoing)

Zatannna & House of Secrets (Kids graphic novel)

Batman: Urban Legends (#11-16)

Johnny Constantine & Mystery of the Meanest Teacher (she's a co protagonist here)

#long post #zatanna zatara #zatanna #reading guide #answered #dc comics #i hope this helps! it took me a while but i think this makes sense #okay to reblog btw

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 1 month

Text

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 21

RAAAAHHHHHHHH WE'RE BACK AND ONLY ONE CHAPTER LEFT AND I CAN FINALLY MOVE ONTO PART 3. The Easter holidays have just started for me so I now have three full weeks to put into the last chapter. This one could be classed as a filler chapter but there's a lot they gain that links to the future so stuff doesn't just appear 'for the plot' - the girls need their hardcore character development before the journey. Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 8527

Warnings: Nothing I can think of.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 20 // Chapter 21 // Chapter 22 >

Part 2: Chapter 21 -

Interesting Concept. Poor Execution.

Brontide (Definition): The low rumble of distant thunder. (Noun / Origin: Greek /ˈbrän‧ˌtīd)

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Monday, 27th March 2940 of the Third Age (Monday, 5th Astron, 1340 in Shire-reckoning)

4 MONTHS LATER

“I’m so happy you allowed me to accompany you three! It’s not every day I’m able to spare time for trip like this.” Gladiola smiled gratefully at the three of us.

After begging Bilbo to let us travel to Bree for a good month, he finally let up, but only agreed if we went in the spring, strongly insisting we wouldn’t survive the night if we had travelled in the deep winter.

“Bree is a hundred and thirty-five mile trip, meaning it would take a minimum of four days to get there. Meaning that we would have to camp in the freezing cold, because the only proper shelters are at least three detours from the path!”

We had instantly agreed, when we had realised the actual distance, deciding to wait until late March when the weather would be warmer.

Aa couple days before we left, Mrs Greenfoot had walked in on us packing when she was dropping off some spare socks she had knitted. After telling her where we were going, she instantly pleaded to let her go with us, saying how she heard Bree had some fabrics that she was dying to get her hands on, and how her husband was going to be at home full time for the next two weeks, so it would be a perfect opportunity for her to go. We said yes after persuading a reluctant Bilbo, and she shot off to pack, which led to now – on our fourth day of walking.

“Oh I really do hope the markets have what I want. I promised Menegilda I would make her a new dress for her birthday.” Gladiola rambled on as she took in the fields and forests ahead of us, her pace picking up with eagerness.

“I’m sure they will.” Replied Kay, grimacing at the feeling of her aching legs. “It’ll ruin the reputation they’ve built of they don’t.”

“Hopefully.” She sighed. “What are you all hoping of finding?”

“Every dangerous object under the sun apparently.” Bilbo spoke up before us. Stuffing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small piece of paper and handed it over.

Taking it, Gladiola quickly scanned the list, her face morphing into surprise and shock at the same time. “Swords?? Why would you need swords?” she queried, handing it back.

“To scare off half the town, in my opinion.” Bilbo grumbled, clearly not happy with the reason we had dragged him so far. “If I didn’t want to go for some of that wine they make, I would’ve said no on the spot.”

“Well, we would’ve gone ourselves if that was the case.” I jived back.

“We just want to know that we can protect ourselves if we ever decide to try and find our way home.” Kay explained.

Bilbo slowed his pace for a moment, as something seemed to dawn on him. “Oh.” He said quietly, a tiny quiver of dejection on his face. “Yes, home. I forgot about uh.. that.” Though he quickly shook that mood off, jogging slightly to catch up.

“Plus,” I added in an attempt to alleviate the mood. “we wouldn’t be looking to own one if we didn’t think it looked insanely cool.”

And with that Bilbo sighed, back to his usual exasperated mood.

The wall surrounding Bree stretched high above us as we neared the wooden gate, its intimidating nature emphasised by the two-storey stone turrets that flanked either side like a pair of unmovable sentries.

Gravel and dried mud crunching underfoot, we took the last few steps, before shuffling to a stop in front of one of the towering doors. Taking a couple steps forward, Bilbo reached up and gave the surface a few hard raps, before coming back to stand beside us.

A moment passed, and only the birds and the rustling of leaves from the nearby trees could be heard, when a muffled rattling sounded from behind the door. A small hatch near my eye level swung open, revealing the wrinkled face of a man, who, at the sight of us, morphed it into a sour scowl, a stark contrast compared to the warm sun that was beating down on our backs.

“Who’re you?” he barked, his croaky and adenoidal voice matching his unpleasant demeanour perfectly.

When neither me or Kay began to speak, Bilbo quickly piped up, stretching up on his toes to try and see the gatekeeper. “Um, hello?” he called out.

The gatekeeper, quickly stepped back and slammed the hatch shut, before a creak resounded from further down, opening another hatch that was the perfect level to speak with the hobbit, giving me a very strong sense of déjà vu.

The hobbit stepped forward towards the open hatch. “We’re here to stay at the Prancing Pony, for a week.” He explained politely. “To visit the market.”

“Oh?” croaked the gatekeeper with half a smirk. “And what are you here to buy, exactly?”

Bilbo didn’t hesitate to flap the list in front of the old man’s face. “Whatever we need.” He said sternly, before stuffing the paper back in his pocket. “I have visited before, you know.”

Looking between me and Kay, then at the hobbits, his eyes narrowed. “Two hobbits and a pair of human girls, together. That’s not something you see every day.” He muttered, reminding me a lot of a certain Hogwarts caretaker, and I half-expected to see a dupe of Mrs Norris jump out of nowhere. “Tell me, how do you know each other?”

“They’re his daughters!” A voice called out, and the three of us spun around in surprise to face a nervous looking Mrs Greenfoot. “Adopted, of course. And I’m a family friend.” She added with a sheepish smile.

The gatekeeper took his time to eye us all up slowly, his bloodshot eyes scouring whatever he could. Seemingly unable to spot anything he counted as suspicious, he quickly disappeared again with a grumble, the hatch shutting with a snap. Seconds later there was a loud groan, and the door he used to speak through slowly began to open. When the gap was wide enough, the gatekeeper stepped out from behind it, revealing his mousy grey hair and tattered brown tunic and trousers. Raising a wrinkly hand, he impatiently beckoned us forward, quickly scouring the area outside as we stumbled in, before he pushed the gate shut.

Bilbo diligently led the way as we trekked down the main street, dragging Mrs Greenfoot to walk beside him.

“What in Yavanna’s name are you doing??” The two of us heard him cry in a whisper. “People are going to ask even more questions if we call them my daughters! How am I supposed to come up with a story about that???”

“Well go with the story you already have! Because it’s the one you’re going to have to run with for now, Mr Baggins.” She hissed back with a smirk.

Deciding to pointedly ignore the storm brewing in front of us, I turned to the view of the building in front of us. “Very Tudor-like.” I mentioned, admiring the dark beams that contrasted against the cream walls, along with the jettying of the upper floors that stuck out, and the metal grid panes that decorated the windows all around.

Kay hummed in agreement as she walked beside me, the both of us in awe of the once-fictional town that spanned across our view.

“It’s nice to see it not pouring with rain and caked in mud like the movies.” She whispered. I eagerly agreed, very happy about not having to fight my way through several inches of horse-trodden mud.

Grasping our skirts, we twisted between people and horse-drawn carriages, finally stopping in front of a relatively large building, the carved wooden sign hanging above us revealing itself to be the one and only Prancing Pony, and the two of us craned our necks to look up and admire the famous building Reaching an arm out, Mrs Greenfoot hauled the hefty wooden door open, and the four of us took our first steps into the inn.

Approaching the bar near the door, I watched Bilbo wipe the thunderous look on his face, turning away from where he was scowling at Gladiola to face the bartender approaching us.

“Good afternoon!” The man called, leaning his round body over the counter to take us all in with a hearty smile. “The name’s Mr Butterbur, but you lot can call me Barney. What can I do for the four of you?”

“Two rooms, if you please.” Answered Bilbo, reaching into his pocket for the right amount of coins. “Preferably split one and three.”

“Ah, you got lucky!” said Mr Butterbur, sticking his hand under the counter to bring out two keys. “You came at the right time – travelling’s picking up again now that winter’s over.” He handed the keys to Bilbo. “Rooms 5 and 6. Say, will you lot be coming down for dinner? I have a feeling it’ll be quiet this evening and we’re serving roast beef and potatoes.”

“Yes, that’ll be lovely.” Replied Gladiola with a warm smile.

Thanking the bartender once again, we set off, crossing the sparsely populated room of tables, considering it was only late afternoon, and up the narrow, creaking stairs on the other side. It didn’t take long to walk down the upper hallway to find the matching rooms, Bilbo handing us our key before he unlocked the door of his own room, insisting the separation was basic courtesy.

Evening came round quickly, our time spent downstairs in the tavern. Bilbo, Kay and Gladiola were currently sat at a table by one of the windows, and I was up by the bar, sipping a steaming tankard of tea on a rickety stool as I waited for Mr Butterbur to refill Bilbo’s wine.

“Say, I don’t suppose you know a place that could sell weapons?” I asked.

He was quiet for a moment, only raising a bushy brow as he peered down at me. Slowly, he set the refilled cup of wine down, before taking a rag out to wipe the surface. “Depends, what kind of weapons are you looking for?” he said lowly.

“Oh, nothing too dramatic.” I waved dismissably. “My friend and I are looking to venture out by ourselves at some point, you see. And we’re looking for something that’s durable and efficient, but easy to get used to, that beginners can handle.”

He seemed to lighten up again, throwing the cloth down as he braced both of his arms on the bar, eyes darting around in thought.

“Are you sure you two want to do that?” he asked with a stern but gentle look. “I’ve never been, but I’ve heard the Shire is one of the safest places you can live, the world outside? Not so much. Besides, you wouldn’t want to leave your dad alone, now would you?”

I blinked. “My – ?” I spun on my chair, looking at our table when my eyes made contact with Bilbo’s, who already seemed to be staring over with light concern on his face. “Oh! He’s no – yea, he’s uh, only been our.. ‘dad’ for a few months though.”

“Even more reason to stay!” Mr Butterbur said, reaching over to poke my shoulder slightly. “You don’t want to go breaking his poor heart right after he opened it up to let you both in!”

I turned back towards the bar, a solemn look falling upon my face as I stared at the tankard in my hands. “I know it’s just…” I heaved a long sigh. “I had a family,” My voice quavered as I looked up at him with wide eyes. “No, I have a family. I wasn’t brought here by choice, I –” I pressed my palms over my teary eyes as the events from the last six months hit me all at once. “I don’t know how we got here and I can’t get us back.” I cried.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured gently, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know what the two of you have gone through, but it seems that you’re distressed about the sudden change and you don’t even realise it.”

Blinking through the blur of tears, I looked up at him. “I have a bit. Bilbo’s found me crying at night over it more than once, but I’ve been telling him it’s nightmares of the night he found us.”

“A bad night?” he asked, smiling gently under his moustache.

“Very.” I replied with a wobbly grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that terrified before.”

He looked me up and down concerned, eyeing the large pink scar on my hand as I stared at it. He went to open his mouth, when he was interrupted.

“Oi Barney!” A man called from one of the tables nearby. “Don’t suppose we could get another round of mead?”

“I’ll bring ‘em round in a minute!” he called back, before turning to me once more. “Well you two have certainly had an experience, from what I can put together. But,” he lowered his voice again. “coming from a stranger, the best thing you can do, until you can find a way to get back, is to just carry on, and keep your hobbit dad company. Or, you know, find him a spouse – depends on whether he’s the bachelor type or not.”

I choked on my drink at the last statement, looking over at the hobbit with a grin. “Well whoever manages to charm him is gonna need a very strong metaphorical hammer.” I laughed. “Cuz that hobbit has enough stubbornness and resilience to rival the walls of Helm’s Deep.”

Mr Butterbur let out sharp laugh, almost spilling the tankard of beer he was filling. “Helm’s Deep! Blimey, you two must’ve done something insane to persuade him to take you in.” He chortled as he began lining up mugs of mead. “Anyway, you were asking about weapons, and I know of a guy that has a stall in the market square, name it and he’ll probably sell it.”

I perked up at the new subject. “Okay, what area of the square?”

“North-east corner, the blacksmiths.” He replied. “Ask for a man named Seathan Marshsteel. Tall, burly guy with a long dark beard and wavy hair, normally tied in a bun or something. Could be mistaken for a dwarf if it weren’t for the fact he’s over six foot.” He described with a chortle. “He’ll know what to give you, but best you go in the early hours, so the good stuff doesn’t get snagged first.”

“That’s great, thank you so much!” I exclaimed, finally getting up from the stool. Turning to face him fully, I gave him the sincerest smile I could. “And thanks for the advice, too.”

He waved a large hand in dismissal. “Don’t mention it. I prefer conversations with the emotional sober, than the emotional drunk.”

Giving him a laugh and a wave, I returned to the table with Bilbo’s refilled drink and my own, relaying the information Mr Butterbur had given me to Kay. The rest of that evening was spent in that corner, eating roast beef, potatoes and vegetables along with the rest of the taverns patrons, before retiring to bed for the night, ready for the next morning.

The murmurs of people and trotting of hooves were yet to be heard when I woke the next morning, only the chirping of the early birds, the occasional pair of footsteps scuffling beneath our window along with the crackle and pops of the dying fire across the room could be made out as I blinked the sleep away from my eyes.

I laid there for a while, staring up at the ceiling cast in dark shadows by the glowing embers as Kay and Mrs Greenfoot slept on. It still felt a little strange not having my phone on the bedside table, the calm piano of my alarm floating through my ears. The battery died on the fourth night after arriving at Bilbo’s, and I had cried endlessly, reality setting in as a realised that the only potential way of contacting my family was gone, unless we found a way back. I was mostly terrified of not being able to see their faces, but managed to calm myself slightly when I went through my small collection of polaroids and found a couple family portraits. I had stored them in the envelope stuck on the back page of my grimoire, for safe keeping but also as a way of keeping them near me for good luck. Going back through the polaroids, another stroke of luck hit me as I had found a polaroid of Kay and her mum, along with her dog Barkley, that I had taken on one of her birthdays, the two of them smiling at their dining table next to a cake glowing with candles, and the large dog laid by their feet. I had slid it under her door that night, deciding to give her some time alone with it. She had come to breakfast that next morning not saying much, only quietly thanking me before settling into her meal.

Coming back to the present, I decided it was time for me to get up. I took my clothes to the bathroom, slipping on a set of light briefs and a vest top over my underwear, an extra layer to battle the early spring chill, then sliding on my shift and finally my pale green summer kirtle.

Kay and Gladiola had roused from their sleep by the time I was sat on my bed sliding my socks on. I gave them a quick ‘Good morning’, before lacing up my trusty modern walking boots, and walking out the door to go knock on Bilbo’s.

The hobbit was already up, calling through the door that he would meet us downstairs for breakfast. I returned to my room to wait for the other two, before taking the stairs down.

We got lucky that the tavern served an early breakfast, the four of us able to down the meal and get out the door when there was still only a few people wandering the streets. The sun hadn’t fully risen either, the rays only managing to shine through the gaps of buildings and alleyways, highlighted by the fading mist as the jettying upper floors kept parts of the street within the dark blue shadows of the early hours.

“– well I would like to see if they have any rolls of lace as well.” Chirped Gladiola, chattering away about the fabrics and lace she wants to try and find, and that if she got commissioned to create some more outfits with the new fabrics, she might be able to afford a new sewing desk. “I’ll be refusing any requests from your relative Lobelia, Mr Baggins. You know what she said the other day? Marched right up to poor Melba and asked her why she was wearing dishrags right in front of her friends!” she exclaimed.

“She did what?!?!” Kay shrieked in outrage.

“I know! I’m surprised you Bilbo haven’t done something to sever her from the family tree!” Gladiola said as she turned to him.

“Believe me, it’s the one thing I want.” He grumbled. “I’ve had far too many of my possessions vanish only to appear in her parlour.”

After listening to the two of them slag off Bilbo’s relative, we had finally arrived at the market. People were still sparse, only a few meandering the stalls whilst some sellers were still setting up shop.

Using the east-rising sun as a reference, Kay and I headed towards the north-east corner, with Bilbo hot on our heels. We waved goodbye to Gladiola, who ventured off with her coin purse towards the colourful fabric stalls on the other side. Walking up the path past stalls selling everything from arrays of meat to bed linens, the smells of metallic blood, spices and cloth filled our senses as our eyes set on a grey canopy propped up by wooden posts attached to a building with a blacksmiths sign hanging from it. Underneath was a counter that was part of the wall, the stall actually being part of the building itself. Approaching the counter, we peered into the shop. Weapons of all kinds lined the walls, even more hung on the racks stuck in the middle of the room like aisles, or on the ceiling like stalactites. The fire in the corner was burning bright, along with the torches lining the walls, filling our nostrils with the strong smell of smoke and the warmth of hot steel, so we figured someone was in.

Kay leant over the counter to try and look around, before calling out.

“Hello?”

A bang resonated through the air, followed by a string of hissed curses. It wasn’t long until a figure appeared hunched from behind one of the tables, clutching and rubbing to back of his head as he muttered under his breath. He gave it one last rub, before standing straight and stretching his back. Placing down the small hammer in his hand, he turned to face us with a frown, though it quickly turned to one of slight surprise. He matched the description Mr Butterbur had given me: Quite tall, about 6’3, well built and muscular, with thick wavy almost black hair, half tied up in a loose bun, with a beard reaching halfway down his chest. He was wearing a pair of loose trousers tied with a thick belt and a baggy tunic rolled up at the sleeves, and covered in patches of soot and grime, his time in the forge on clear display.

Eyeing us up and down, he took his time wandering over, using a cloth to wipe his calloused hands down whilst his face held an expression of poorly concealed confusion. The look increased tenfold as Bilbo peeked over the edge, resting his forearms on the wooden surface to prop himself up. Reaching us, he plopped the rag down, bracing his arms on the counter as his pale blue eyes took the three of us in.

“Can I… help you?” he queried, an accent similar to an Irish one strong on his tongue as he squinted at us, looking as if he couldn’t wrap his head around what was in front of him. I tried not to cough when the smell of smoke increased tenfold, rolling off him in waves.

Nodding, I slapped the list I had taken from Bilbo earlier on the counter. “Yes,” I affirmed eagerly. “We were hoping if you had anything on the list in stock.”

Taking a moment to look between me and the piece of paper, he slowly reached out, pulling the list towards him and picking it up, before grasping the spectacles that hung from his neck by some string, and sliding them on.

He spent about twenty seconds flitting his eyes between us and the list, covering it in black fingerprints until he lowered it a looked down at us over his glasses.

“You three aren’t from around here, are you?” he remarked, his deep, throaty voice resonating through the chill, morning air. “I don’t advertise outside the town unless I speak to you personally, so who told you about me?”

Slightly taken aback by the man’s cautious demeanour, I stepped in the explain. “Uh – we were recommended to visit you by Mr Butterbur?” I managed out, gesturing in the direction of the inn. “from the, uh, Pr-”

“- The Prancing Pony, I know. We’re well acquainted.” He said with a small smile though quickly returned to eyeing us up. “Tell me, what do two young girls and a hobbit want within the weapons trade. You don’t look experienced to me.”

“Which is exactly the problem.” I stated firmly. “We aren’t. And therefore we want to learn how.”

He slowly regarded the three of us with a look, and I prepared for the disappointment of his potential refusal. “Ok,” he sighed, tapping his soot-covered fingernails rhythmically on the wood. “How long are you here for?”

At our silent confusion, he raised a brow expectantly.

“Uh?” Kay vocalised, her eyes dazed in confusion. “A week? We’ve got six days left.”

“And why?” I added. “Do you need time to make them?”

He shook his head. “No.” He stated, baffling us further. Sighing, he began explaining. “None of you look like you’ve seen combat during any day of your lives, so, my proposal is in exchange for six days of dinners at the inn, I give you six days’ worth of basic training.”

Surprised, I slowly turned towards Kay, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. She eyed me back, and grins began to slowly grow on our faces. We turned to confirm the deal, when the hobbit I had forgotten was between us spoke up.

“H-hold on!” he cried, pointing a finger to emphasise his point. “You don’t know any of us. How do we know we can trust what you’re saying?”

Seathan rested on his elbows so he could lean over the counter to face the grumpy hobbit. “Do you trust Mr Butterbur?”

“Mr-” Bilbo sputtered. “We barely had one conversation with him!”

“He did seem nice though.” Kay butted in, and Bilbo whipped his head at her in outrage.

“And it’s a fair deal.” I added, watching in amusement as Bilbo comically flips his head between us, shock evident on his face. “I’ll make you Victoria cakes weekly in return.” I quickly added.

Grumbling under his breath, he eventually gave in. “Fine, they,” he emphasised, pointing to the both of us. “trust the bartender.”

“Then you can trust me.” Seathan replied warmly with a deep rumble of a laugh. “You won’t learn quickly on your own – so meet me outside the inn at 7 o'clock each morning and I’ll give you a rundown of everything. We’ll have breaks at lunch, and finish in time for dinner.”

“Woah, are you sure?” Kay held up a hand to slow him down, brows furrowed in confusion. “Why are you offering this to us so quickly? We’ve only just met you.”

Seathan pushed himself up from his elbows with a grunt, towering over us as he stood to his full height. “My daughters.” He revealed bluntly. “My wife’s not big on me sharing this but they asked the same thing you did. I said no, and they were injured in a small goblin ambush during one of our travels.” A sombre look fell over his eyes. “They have since recovered, but that guilt has weighed on me ever since, therefore I’ve wanted to offer training to girls and women when they’ve been given no opportunity to do so before.”

Kay nodded slowly, happy with the explanation. “I’m sorry to hear that – I’m glad they’re ok now. So we’ll meet you tomorrow?”

“Come round sometime after luncheon today if you can.” Seathan requested. “The sooner I can get swords in your hands the better.”

Thanking him, we wandered back into the depths of the market, it’s scents dominating our senses once again as we scanned for our other hobbit companion.

---

That morning whizzed by as fast as we would allow it, our nervous excitement for the afternoon sending a slightly uncomfortable buzz through our stomachs, the thought of what was to come prominent on our minds as we scarfed our ham and lettuce sandwiches down. We had changed outfits as well – I now sat in my cream blouse and baggy brown corduroy dungarees, and Kay in her black tank top with some loose, pale brown trousers that closely resembled cargos, and a knitted cardigan slung on top. Sure, it looked a little modern, but we hoped the earthy colours would keep people’s interest away

When we had finished, we wandered outside, only to find Seathan waiting beside the door, instead of where he said he would be by the blacksmiths. Pushing himself off the wall he slowly strode over, no longer donned in his apron, choosing to only remain in his slightly sooty shirt and dungarees.

“You girls ready?” he questioned as he pulled his curls back to tie them with a piece of cloth. Shifting a little, he looked behind us. “Where’s your hobbit friend?”

Still a bit hesitant about his forwardness, I gave him a simple reply. “He doesn’t want to come – said he had planned this week for relaxing and wine tasting.”

He gave a nod as he chuckled. “Fair enough.” He remarked, and beckoned us along as he began trapsing down the now bustling street, the two of us following not long after.

Leading us down a wide alley just before we hit the market, he led us through some of the residential housing, that slowly turned from the fusty smelling, overhanging town houses that were packed together like sardines, to detached cottages with front gardens lined with crudely woven branches to act as fences, goats, donkeys and the odd cat mulling about the small patches of crops in each one. The town was fully alive now, the sun passing midday as everyone got on with their jobs and chores, voices and shouting echoing from down each passage as we trekked past. We were thankful that the early spring weather had allowed the sun to dry out the large mud patches that would’ve otherwise sucked up our poor shoes, watching the solid cracks and chunks grow in size the closer we got to the more rural neighbourhoods.

Rounding one last cottage, we came face to face with the open countryside, the grass long and swaying in the gentle breeze, with the occasional oak tree sheltering a few livestock from the 12 o’clock sun. Climbing over a rickety fence, Seathan brought us to our destination. A large patch of grass had been shortened – about half the size of a football field, and somewhat recently if the loose grass piles and faint smell of freshly cut grass mixed with the usual stink of livestock said anything. Down one of the edges were several wooden posts that had been hammered into the ground, branches and planks nailed on to make them look like human dummies, covered in chips and gashes where they had been practiced on previously. Down another side were some makeshift archery targets; wooden circles cut from tree trunks with white and red paint hastily slapped on in rings.

Eyeing up the equipment, I blindly followed the sound of Seathan’s footsteps. When they stopped, I turned my head to face him, about to ask what was to happen, only to flail my arms out in an attempt to catch the wooden sword that was flung at my face. Managing to grab it at the very edge of the hilt, I darted my wide eyes to the towering man to watch him chuck another at Kay, who had watched my floundering and was prepared enough to catch it with ease.

Picking up a slightly larger wooden sword, he weighed and swung it around as he approached us. “Ok. We’re going to start out with some wooden swords.” He held up a hand as Kay opened her mouth. “And before you protest, I would much rather you get bruises from these rather than deal with a mutilated limb from an actual sharpened sword.”

Pouting, Kay snapped her jaw shut, and we both trailed after him into the centre of the field.

“Now,” he began, turning to us, signalling for us to place our swords down as he did the same. “I know you two won’t gain the arm strength for swinging swords overnight, so we’ll start with some footwork so you don’t twist the wrong way and fall on your own weapon.”

The next couple hours were spent with us practicing out foot spacing and placement, Seathan reaching down to twist our ankles slightly every once in a while, shouting which way to put our feet when spinning around to face potential enemies as we spun and twisted to each end of the field. It oddly felt like I was back in my ballet classes, learning how to walk on the tip of my toes for the very first time again.

Eventually we were able to pick up the swords, learning how to use our arms alongside our feet as we twisted and turned to block his mock attacks that got stronger and stronger each hour, the man insisting that defence was the first and most important thing to learn when it came to combat.

Sweat was running down both of our backs by the time Seathan had called it a day, the sun now nearing the treeline in the distance as the breeze began to cool the moisture on our skin, sending chills down our backs.

“Ughhhhh I feel so muckyyyy.” Kay groaned as she chucked her sword back in the makeshift chest under one of the nearby trees, holding her arms out in front of her as she tried to pick her cardigan up with the tips of her now mud-stained fingers.

“Tell me about it.” I grumbled, exhausted as I reached down to grab the half-filled water tankard, given to us by a lovely woman who had seen us being worked to death by Seathan, who had actually introduced herself as his aforementioned wife. When she had suspiciously asked what we had used to pay him, she had sighed knowingly when we revealed it was several dinners.

“He only asks for that because I don’t let him.” She had muttered amusedly to us as she refilled one of the animal troughs for us to wash our hands in. “He’d be down there every other night stuffing his face otherwise – says Barney’s steak is a god-send. I told him throwing up on customers after eating it all would have an enormous impact on his business’s reputation.”

After chatting to the friendly woman for a few minutes, we were soon ushered up by Seathan, who had hardly broken a sweat at all that day – ‘the pros of working with a kiln every day, you build a resilience to heat’ he had remarked proudly.

Trudging back through the now-calmer town, we wearily made our way back to the Prancing Pony.

---

“By Yavanna, look at the state of you two!!” Bilbo had cried when we walked in, the hobbit gawping at our less-than acceptable appearances. “Yuv’got – mud. Everywhere!” he sputtered, gesturing at our clothes. “Go change, now.”

Snorting at his antics, the two of us dashed up the stairs of the inn, disappearing before we could watch the seething hobbit turn on our slightly nervous teacher.

When we returned having changed into our original clothes from this morning, we joined the two hobbits and Seathan at the table, who we’re all currently waiting for us to arrive before eating the fresh plates of dinner placed in front of them. We sat down and began eating whilst Seathan was recounting what he had taught us as he scarfed down his well-earned meal.

“– yea, they’re getting the hang of it quite quickly!” he stated with a proud grin. “Could say we’ve got a couple of naturals on our hands.”

I smiled back. “I’m just glad we weren’t thrown under the bus straight away, otherwise I would’ve given up.” I joked, but my joking was immediately stopped at the feeling of my throat jamming up, and I clenched my teeth, digging my nails into my palm as I tried not to make it obvious.

Seathan paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as he glanced at me with a bewildered look. “What’s a bus?”

Staring at him, I remained silent waiting for the invisible hands to stop choking me, and he began frowning as he noticed my cheeks turn a slight pink. I flinched slightly as I felt Kay’s foot kick my shin, and my airway opened once again, and it took me a lot of strength to not heave on the spot. I quickly darted my eyes over to see Kay staring at me, silently staring at me as she realised what was going on. Facing the other three, who were looking at me with curious looks, I racked my brain for an excuse.

“Oh! It’s uh.. just a saying where we’re from.” I laughed nervously, still trying to hide my excessive breathing. “We have different names for transport there. Like, um, a carriage is, obviously, known as a carriage, ha ha, but we have nicknames for it, like bus, or.. or car for short?”

A few moments of silence of passed as they processed my rambling.

“Bus is a strange word to call a carriage.” Muttered Seathan, furrowing his brows. “But, if that’s what your lot have named it, then I won’t be one to judge.” He shrugged before returning to stuffing his mouth with potatoes. Bilbo and Gladiola were already back to eating, used to our strange words and sayings by this point.

I glanced at Kay, only to see her glaring at me with raised eyebrows. I narrowed my own back at her mockingly, raising my tankard of tea to my face. “It’s not my fault we’re stuck with medieval people.” I muttered from behind it.

All I got was mashed potato flicked at my forehead in return.

---

The following five days flew by, Seathan putting us through intense training that was far more gruelling than we thought. I mean, c’mon, doing ten laps around the field is a tad bit excessive, plus, arms wield swords, not legs.

I regrettably voiced those thoughts to our teacher, who then proceeded to have us do push-ups and lifting heavy tools he brought from his shop every hour, much to our frustration. He also asked if there was anything else we wanted to learn the basics in – I had said archery, after enjoying it a few times at festivals and residential trips with school or the girl-guiding groups I was in. Kay had excitedly said she wanted to learn throwing axes. And then proceeded the extra push-ups and benching, Seathan insisting that if we wanted to learn a practice that required a hell of a lot of arm strength, then it will have to be a daily task of exercise for as long as possible before we got to our full strength. I collapsed in protest at that.

By the time Monday rolled around, the two of us could barely pick up a fork to eat, and Gladiola fretted over us as she helped shovel food onto our forks, whilst Bilbo glared daggers over the table at an amused Seathan, muttering under his breath about the ways he was going to set the man’s giant beard on fire.

---

“Oh, you two are going to have to show me what you’ve learnt on the way back!” exclaimed Gladiola as she folded our belongings into our packs, due to our arms and legs still unfortunately incapacitated. “And make sure you give that man the biggest thank you for what he’s done – not just anyone is willing to give up their time for strangers.”

“Yes mum.” Was all Kay groaned, voice muffled from where she was face-planted on her pillow. Slowly rolling over with a prolonged whine, she faced to where I was splayed out like a starfish on the next bed over. “We’re gonna die before we even reach the evening.” She mumbled, face half scrunched by the pillow.

“Now don’t say that.” Lectured Gladiola, whipping Kay’s ankle with a sock as she pattered by with the copious amounts of fabrics and ribbons she had bought, only receiving a short grunt in response. “We’ve got a four-day travel ahead of us, and with that mood, I’ll be forcing you both to carry mine and Bilbo’s packs.”

Slowly pushing herself up, copper strands still stuck to her face, Kay swung her legs over the bed. “Fine.” She mumbled. “We’re up.”

“Good.” Gladiola replied with a smile. “We should have left ten minutes ago, so Kate if you don’t get up we’re leaving you behind.” She half joked as she hauled our packs out the doorway.

“Girlie, c’mon.” Added Kay as she shook my ankle.

Reluctantly, I pushed myself up the best I could, trying to ignore the agonising aches all over my body as I laced up my boots and followed the two out the door.

---

“Now remember, you have to do the exercises I’ve given you at least an hour every day, and memorise the tips I’ve given you for hitting enemy’s weak spots.” Seathan lectured, handing us two sheets of parchment. “I’ve written them down here, and I’ve also thrown in some blunt steel swords so you can upgrade when you both feel ready to.”

Accepting the objects gratefully, we pushed some coins into the man’s hands so he could reward himself with some extra meals, thanked him profusely as we stood by the entrance gate to Bree, trying our best to ignore the lingering stare of the gatekeeper as he peered suspiciously at us.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” said Seathan, marching hurriedly over to a long leather pack that was propped against the wall surrounding the town. Returning to us, he loosened the strings of the pack and pulled the contents out.

“Here’s a set of throwing axes for Kay, and a bow and arrows for you, Kate. I also threw in some polish, oil, and tools for sharpening the blades of the axes and arrows, along with replacement strings for the bow and whatnot.”

“What?!?!” we both said consecutively.

“We can’t accept that –” “It’s too much! – ”

“I paid for it.”

Freezing, the two of us slowly turned until we faced Bilbo, who stared back, before sighing.

“You two can’t be taught all that and expect to leave with hardly anything.” He explained almost nonchalantly, pulling out the crumpled list we had written. “You wouldn’t have gotten anything on your list.”

A beat passed, before I flew down and scooped him up into my arms.

“WHAT THE – ” he sputtered.

“Father.” I said. He froze.

“Father.” Kay repeated, reaching over to continuously pat the curls on his head.

He whipped his head between us with panicked eyes. “WH- I’M NOT YOUR DAD – PUT ME DOWN!”

“Told you he adopted them.” We heard Gladiola mutter to Seathan.

Eventually placing him down, the two of us knelt down to drag him into a hug, despite his grumbling.

“Thank you.” Kay whispered. “For everything.”

With a sigh, he settled, reaching up to wrap his arms around us both. “You’re welcome, but for the love of Yavanna don’t make me regret any of it.”

With matching cheshire grins, we assured him we wouldn’t, before clambering up excitedly to receive the pack of shiny new weapons from Seathan. And within a few minutes, we were waving a hearty farewell to the blacksmith, yelling our goodbyes and thanks until he disappeared behind the closing gate.

Walking through the trees, we chattered away endlessly about the events of the past week, failing to see the two pairs of glowing blue eyes, watching us from the treeline.

---

2 MONTHS LATER

A couple months had passed since we had arrived back in the Shire, and a lot had happened since then.

We had shown Gladiola the techniques we were taught during the evenings when we were on our return trip, and she had pleaded that we taught her kids, saying how they had always wanted to play knights when they were younger. A couple weeks in, Kay and I had stumbled across a clearing on the outskirts of Hobbiton, surrounded by trees and seasonal wildflowers with a scenic view of the town from where it was further up one of the hills. It was a perfect spot; close enough to Bag End where Bilbo could sit on the bench by his front door and watch us, but the trees made it private enough for us to set up targets to practice both our weapons training, along with our magic, without the risk of someone stumbling upon us.

The most exciting part, however, was meeting Bertin Grubb, who owned the pony stables across town. After seeing the lean muscle we had begun to develop on our arms from the training, he had offered us a job assisting him with caring for the ponies, figuring we were tall and strong enough to handle the animals when they were being stubborn. It took a while getting used to, having to bend down excessively to use the small hobbit-sized wheelbarrow, or the rake with a handle too short for two girls at least twice the height of the average hobbit. But he eventually managed to get us some suitable enough, and we thoroughly loved every second, excited to finally be able to pay Bilbo back for everything he had done, especially when doing a job as fun as ours.

Except for shovelling the horse crap.

It stank.

---

Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. Friday, 5th May 2940 of the Third Age (Highday, 15th Thrimidge, 1340 in Shire-reckoning)

The sun was barely rising when Kay and I got up, readying ourselves for an early shift when we received a letter that Bertie had received two new animals and needed the extra hands earlier than normal.

Trudging down the path as the birds sang their morning song, we munched on the poached eggs buns Bilbo had shoved into our hands as we were about to step out the door, before he had promptly marched back to bed for a well-earned lie in.

Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I mumbled a conversation with Kay as we walked between the hedges lining the path. Soon enough, we neared the stables, only to see a frantic looking Bertie, who seemed to be nervously waiting for us whilst tightly clutching his cap between his short fingers by the wooden archway leading in. When his wide brown eyes landed on us as we rounded the corner, he cried out in relief.

“Oh thank Yavanna you’re here!” he cried, jogging over to us. “A friend of mine found them wandering the outskirts looking all muddy and he begged me to take them cause they were eating his crops but they’re so large I don’t know what to do with them! I –”

“Woah, woah! Hey!” I raised my voice slightly to cut off his rambling. “What do you mean large? What are they?”

“Horses!” he wailed, dragging his hands down his face. “Giant! Horses!”

Kay perked up, trying to look through the archway. “Really? Can we see them?”

Bertie looked up at her with a sweaty forehead and hopeful eyes. “That’s the thing.” He laughed meekly. “I was hoping you two could take charge of them? I’m afraid I might get stepped on if I go near them again.”

Following Bertie into the stables, he led us to the end stalls, to where there were two of possibly the tallest horses I had ever seen in my life.

One was patterned like a cow, black and white patches covering it’s body, the other pitch black, with only small, pure white socks colouring the ends its fluffy hooves, and a singular white star-like stripe running down its head.

Feeling like one of those girls in those magical horse novels, I slowly approached the black one, its features resembling those of a Shire horse – fitting, considering where we were. Kay’s looked like a Clydesdale, and I watched from the corner of my eye as she neared it, wonder glinting in her eyes as she offered her hand. I followed with my own, looking up at the beast that towered over me, the top of my head barely reaching its snout despite my tall height, as it’s black eyes peered back down to meet my own dark brown ones.

“Now you know why I can’t look after them myself.” Bertie half-laughed, flitting his eyes between the two animals, keeping his distance from the two animals as he watched, scuffing his heel against the floor like he wanted to bolt. “They’re girls, so hopefully won’t be territorial or anything that could cause issues with the ponies.”

I snorted. “I’m pretty sure you’ve just given the ponies two empresses to worship – they’ll probably follow them around the pasture like loyal minions whenever they’re together.” I grinned as I faced the poor hobbit, who looked on the verge of trembling.

He took a shaky breath. “Ok, well, you can do what you like with them, just make sure they don’t go mental and destroy half the place. Please.”

“I doubt they’ll do that.” Piped up Kay, who had now managed to start stroking the snout of her horse. “If you managed to get them here without a fuss, then they should remain docile.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Hopefully.”

After that, Bertie quickly wrapped up the conversation, clearly desperate to get elsewhere so he didn’t have to face the two powerhouses bunking in the stables next to each other. He had mumbled about finding saddles and equipment large enough for them, before quickly scurrying off.

Turning back to face the horse in front of me, I reached up to gently place my hand on its sloping snout. “What’re you naming yours?” I asked, turning to her.

Looking up at the pink snout that was trying to nibble at her hand, she pondered for a moment. “Mmm, something like Calhourn maybe.”

“Nice.” I complimented. “I thought you would’ve gone for something like Moo Moo.”

She snorted. “That’s something you would go for.” She paused. “But it is a strong contender. Perhaps I’ll have it as a nickname.” She turned to me. “What’re you gonna choose?”

“Spleens.”

“No.”

“Ok, how about Felony?”

“Better, cooler, sounds like a name, but maybe choose something more… socially acceptable.”

I grunted in annoyance. “I want a name that disturbs people when they hear it – it’ll be a good conversation starter.”

“It’ll also be a good way to start the conversation of creating Middle Earth’s first mental asylum.” Kay deadpanned. “You can name something like your first pet cat Spleens, but not a horse that you could be riding into battle and potentially have written down in history.”

“But it’ll be the most remembered.” I pouted.

“And the most judged. Now, save the poor horse her dignity and give her a nice name.” she demanded.

“Doo Doo Daggins.”

“I swear to god.”

“Ok! Ok!” I giggled, petting the horse’s snout as she nudged at my hand. “Something fancy then.”

She nodded. “Yea, maybe something that relates to something you do? I don’t know – your witch stuff has a lot of fancy words in it.”

My eyes lit up. “Ohh! What about Hecate!? It links to my practice, and could be some type of dedication to her as a deity!”

Kay raised her brows. “That’s actually not bad. You gonna give her a nickname?”

I pondered for a moment. “Yea. Spleens.”

Kay just sighed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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depleti · 2 months

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Happy Birthday! Been reading TMK for a while and really enjoying it, have you ever shared what inspired the story?

I'm not sure I have, actually, if only because it's not very interesting lol.

A long time ago, I used to play on a lot of rpg forums (where you would post your roleplay responses to each other) and back then there were a lot to pick from. I joined one that had an original fantasy setting and one of the cultures was inspired by the Vikings, which prompted me to do a bit of research. That board folded before I even played my character--which was actually a precursor to Coal--but I guess I found the Vikings in particular to be interesting enough to do more with.

More background and very early drawings below the cut!

This question prompted me to go looking for some of my earliest TMK drawings! Here's perhaps the first Coal drawings with a girl who would eventually become Hedda. For some reason she has a vaguely Asian outfit and I'm not sure why. Perhaps even then I was looking to emphasize the international reach of the Viking period.

Here's a page where Hedda starts to look like Hedda:

Now the very early story for TMK is quite different from how it ended up. Coal was always a kind of undead warrior, but how he died and came back has changed. Initially, Coal died defending a village from two demon-creatures (maybe dragons?), and killed one of the two demons. The surviving demon, who was the killed demon's brother, vowed revenge against Coal and intercepted him on his way to Valhalla/Sessrúmnir (Freyja's hall, looks like I never decided which).

This demon, named Fen, was the one who brought Coal back. He could also turn into a ship and control it and turn into a dragon with it (the oars became legs, the sail became wings, etc.). Coal came back with missing memories and had more of a blank personality.

Here's Fen in his demon form and a human form apparently:

For some reason that I never wrote down, various god items were included on this boat. It wasn't just items belonging to the big three (Odin, Thor, and Freyr) but also Freyja and Frigg and Tyr, etc. The idea was Coal needed to find their human counterpart owners in Midgard to do...something. I originally wanted to do nine items, because nine is a magic number, but after discussing with a friend (hi, Hannah!), I quickly realized that was too much work. Fen was scrapped but the idea of the living figurehead lives on in Rollo.

So the number of items changed to three four and Loki became the main cause of everything. I think I avoided using Loki before because I didn't want my version of him to be compared to Marvel's or whatever, but you can't really do a story involving the Norse gods without Loki in there somewhere. So I just bit the bullet and not only used him, but made him a main character. I think he's different enough to stand apart from most other depictions of him.

Here's me trying to figure out how TMK's Loki should look:

I realized early on he shouldn't look too refined, but also not as scruffy as the bottom drawings lol. I think when I realized he's not just "The Trickster" but also a father a lot of things fell into place. Also the feather cloak!

One of the hard things about working on webcomics is how long they take to make, but that can also be a kind of benefit. When I first started TMK I just wanted to make a fun fantasy adventure comic with a bold art style (it's probably no surprise to say Cartoon Saloon's Secret of Kells and subsequent films have been a huge inspiration to me), but as time has gone on and the world has shifted, it's turned into an exploration of toxic masculinity and its effects on the self and the world.

Anyway here's some other older drawings!

One of the first Ibrahims. His design was settled almost immediately.

Arne's design also came together pretty easily. I dunno what that old man at the top is for...

Anyway I hope you've enjoyed this lil jaunt down memory lane. Thank you for your question and birthday wishes and, of course, for reading the comic. <3

#questions #thistil mistil kistil

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chocoramo-cow · 3 months

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I cant sleep and im just thinking about how much I hate Lily and James potter as characters. Lily had SOOOO much potential as a character but jk rowling just doesn’t know how to write women (fucking ironic yet typical of a terf to reduce women to their most bare minimum). Like lily is the whole ass reason Harry is alive and the whole ass reason Voldemort died the first time yet all she is reduced to is just generally “nice” (which I have beef with considering how she treated her “best friend”), green eyes, smart, and died for her son. Meanwhile James is sooooooo much worse! He goes from arrogant rich pureblood bully jock who threatens to hex a girl if she doesn’t go out with him and mercilessly harassing said girl’s best friend to just marrying said girl??? And like his growth and redemption is just ????? Hes not even really a character at all. I’m so upset that there are so many people who know the Potters who tell Harry about them and it’s always the same three or four things about them yet we, as readers, are supposed to just be like oh no it’s so sad and tragic they died when like they were such deeply unlikable and two dimensional characters??? Like for fucks sake the prophecy said they defied Voldemort THREE times that sounds in theory so badasss and cool and could have made for some very cool lore yet that is not explored at all!

Lily who we are told over and over again is a very nice character really isnt nice at all in all the flashbacks (she blames her best friend for an act she also committed, excuses a group of people trying to kill him and calls him ungrateful for not being thankful they decided to not go through with it to save their own asses but draws the line at dark magic that is implied to not be anywhere close to as dangerous as the prank^tm, almost smiles at her best friend being sexually assaulted, and then dates then marries the guy who committed said SA on her childhood best friend, harassed muggles and threatened to hex her if she didnt date him) yet we’re supposed to be like omg the angel! Like no!

Jk rowling fumbled the potters so absolutely fucking badly and made them deeply unlikable characters!

She could have done SOOOOOO much with James. Have him realize holy shit “I’m subconsciously participating in blood supremacists ideologies let me not do that” and that would have been so interesting! Have him actually grow as a person and show what made him want to fight for what is right have him own up to his mistakes and actually grow!

As for Lily, the whole having a friend who went down the wrong path could have been executed so much better. She could have stuck up for her friend in front of her sister instead of blaming him, she could have told severus “your group of friends are just as bad as the people who are bullying you” instead of “aT LeAsT tHeY dOnT uSe DaRk mAgIc”. It literally would have given her as a character and the story so much more depth to have her actually be upset and heart broken about having to end a long term friendship because it became toxic.

It’s so frustrating looking at these two characters who are important to the story and see nothing but wasted potential.

#hp meta #jily #lily evans #lily potter #james potter #jk rowling #harry potter

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deng-yi-deng · 1 year

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message from the scriptwriter of Till the end of the Moon 长月烬明 - 边距何妨

If Changyue Jinming is disassembled, what kind of script is it? It consists of three main lines: the mission of the heroine, the growth of the hero, and the game between gods and demons. The former two are intertwined with each other, and the latter emerges gradually, and finally climbs up the stairs with the audience, overlooking the Three Realms and looking back at the floating life.

(Google Translate with some corrections - very long post but really really interesting and worth a read. apologies for inaccuracies. link to original above.)

Changyue Jinming has come to an end, and it's the screenwriter's turn to be on duty for the main creation and sharing activities. Just for my job, I will chat with you about the adaptation of Changyue Jinming's script, which can be regarded as a belated work report from 2021.

1. All nutrition comes from the soil: classical culture and oriental mythology

Long before the birth of the Changyue Jinming project, the audience's complaints about xianxia characters were enough to (fill a channel?). Year after year, colleagues are working on the Xianxia project day and night, and the goal everyone is striving for is "different". This is also the most difficult problem that Changyue faced at the beginning. One foot of fertile soil supports one inch of seedlings. So the script went back, looking for the place of growth in the classics.

Our country has an extremely rich tradition of myths and ghosts, and it has its own style from time to time. Based on the original work (novel), the adaptation finally chose classical mythology as the nourishing soil. They are rich and intense, tragic and magnificent, full of primitive vitality, and an irresistible sense of destiny. This is the world that the script adaptation wants to build.

With soil, all details can grow naturally, such as:

In the first act of the story, the Demon God appears. How should the demons in the fairy world appear? Maybe he can fly, he can blink, or he can punch a mountain first. On a night when pulling my hair out, the document was typed and deleted, and finally, "In the purple sky, six black dragons drove a chariot, breaking through the clouds and passing by the sun. Jeweled bells at the four corners of the chariot swayed, The sound spreads ten miles", covered by the curtain, blown away by the wind, revealing the true face of the devil.

In this way, the demon god appeared on the stage with the dragon driving the chariot and riding the wind and breaking the clouds. The script wants to use the image of "Dragon Driving" to give the demon god the mystery of ancient times and the flavor of Chu Ci (Songs of Chu, a book of ancient poetry).

As for the image of Sangjiu, although it is a clam in terms of species setting, in the script adaptation, her image and aesthetic characteristics actually come from the dragon girl and the jiaoren (mermaid like creature). In classical culture, the images of Dragon Girls are constantly changing. They are heterogeneous, lower than the gods of the water tribe. They once offered pearls to the gods and were enlightened by the gods. They initially had the wildness of animals, and gradually evolved with the creation of classical literature to become beautiful, smart, and passionate.

Sang Jiu is exactly such an image. She is innocent and sentimental, but also has the vigilance of a small animal. She is not only a soft princess who holds her face up to the God of War, but also a vigorous girl with a longbow on her back and kills magic soldiers. During the days and nights when she married, like a jiaoren weeping pearl tears, she gathers them every night, tasting the bitterness of love.

The prop "mirror of the past" in the novel is adapted into the eyes of the god Jize in the script. The transformation of gods into things after death is one of the traditions of Chinese mythology. Just like those myths we have been familiar with since childhood, after Pangu died, his left eye was the sun and his right eye was the moon. Kuafu chased the sun and died, and his walking stick fell to the ground and turned into a peach forest. The ancients believed that when a tiger died, its eyes fell to the ground and turned into amber (tiger soul). When the divine body fell, Jize's gentle gaze turned into a divine mirror, illuminating the last hope with his spirit.

After all the creatures in the Mo River were slaughtered, Sang Jiu pulled out the water suppressing stone in the center of the river in extreme grief and indignation. "The water town stone, which is extremely heavy, rises from the bottom of the river. For a moment, the mud and sand in the river rolled, and the sand flew away." Sang Jiu turned the water suppressing stone into a sharp sword, killing Shangqing God Realm. It is remade into the (ocean god's needle, another name for Sun Wukong's golden cudgel).

Another example is the Tianzhu (Celestial Pillar) supporting the heaven and the earth, which is actually a complex of images such as Buzhou Mountain and wood. The script does not directly copy their names, but everyone will naturally think that this is the power of convention. The Spring Water Throwing Festival draws on traditional elements such as Nuo Opera and Tournament of the Gods.

2. Composition of the World: Human World, God Realm and Immortal Gate

The story of Changyue Jinming spans three distinct sections: the human world, the divine world, and the immortal's realm. Simply running the map will obviously split the story, so geography and time are used to weave them together in the adaptation of the script.

Geographically, the gods once lived around the Tianzhu, but now it is in ruins. The fairy gate is located in the human world, and practitioners have close contacts with ordinary people.

(1) The world of mortals

What is the human world like?

First of all, in terms of setting, it has a "king" and no "emperor". It must be set before the Qin Dynasty. The kingdom is divided, but the hearts of the people still yearn for unity. But it didn't land in any real dynasty or country, which is the inevitable result of fictional dramas. Secondly, its atmosphere and details must be separated from real life. It must have an ancient style and a floating mythological flavor. Therefore, the world view of the world is taken from a fictional classical myth:

In this world, there are demons, warlocks, magic weapons, and tyrants. There are princes and grandsons who practiced down the mountain, there are blood boiled in a cauldron, and there are prophecies about the return of destiny. There are immortals who fall into the mortal world and wander around the world, and there are magic weapons who leave the faction to help in the battle. The generals use immortal methods to fight against each other. In this world, the reference is the world view of "Investiture of the Gods" that everyone is familiar with.

The role of Pang Yizhi borrows some of Jiang Ziya's symbolic characteristics. They are all uncles who were driven down the mountain to do tasks. Jiang Ziya is confused about life in the world, and Pang Yizhi is also unreliable and cute. They are proficient in divination and bear a destiny that they don't know. Jiang Ziya was not destined for immortality, and in the end, Pang Yizhi also went to a similar fate.

Among the many characters who abandoned business and invested Zhou in the Romance of the Gods, Huang Feihu is the one who is most similar to Ye Qingyu. They are all relatives of the king, the town country and the Zhu country. Both have a father who is a veteran of the town. In the end, he was forced to have no choice but to defect to his former enemy with his family.

The contrast in the Romance of the Gods is the two princes Yin Jiao and Yin Hong. They once entered the mountain gate to practice, received advice, and obtained magic weapons, but they chose to be loyal to their father, King Zhou, and eventually died. Although Fengshen Yanyi has a critical attitude towards the second son, the script wants to use a more neutral attitude to praise and regret Xiao Lin's life choices. Camellia fell to the ground and fell into the mud, how can one not regret it?

In this world, the atmosphere of myth is like a shadow, just like the song sung by the crow and the news from afar that it relays. The smoke from the witch doctor's burning enveloped the palace, and the shadow of the demon lingered in the market.

In the capitals of Jing and Sheng, huge wreckage can be seen faintly in the distance. In the garden of King Jing’s Palace, there is a closer piece that was tied to a swing. The fragments that fell into the world, the traces of gods are everywhere. I saw some netizens asking what it is, but it doesn’t matter if you can’t see what it is. This weird spectacle itself has formed the atmosphere of this world and isolated it from the real history.

(2) The place of the gods

The fragments of Tianzhu are the hardware connection between the human world and the god world, and the dream of Prajna (aka Bo're) Floating Life is the software connection between the current human world and the god world ten thousand years ago.

The Prajna Floating Life narrated in the novel has only five episodes in the script, and it has to be divided into two parts with clear boundaries: the part of the battle between gods and demons, which bears a large amount of information and logic chains serving the whole play, Ming Ye's love story with Sangjiu has to be compressed into another part and cannot be unfolded, so the script is treated as a three-act drama structure, making it present the style of a short fable, and acting for the four audiences who enter the play.

The flavor of this ephemeral world, on the one hand, is composed of countless light and small fragments, such as the Qingluan (Blue Luan bird) car, the flying dance, and the fairy fruit tree. On the other hand, it is supported by the god system.

In classical mythology, gods present different styles, for example, the familiar job-type gods that constitute the management system of heaven, such as the Jade Emperor, the Queen Mother, the Three Officials, the God of Wealth, and the Elder Moon. There are also natural gods, such as Jumang, the god of wood, Gonggong, the god of water, Zhurong, the god of fire, Wangshu, the god of the moon, and Xihe, the god of the sun. The adaptation of the script chose the latter system, utilized their cultural elements, and at the same time avoided the names of real myths, and constructed twelve gods for the ShengQing realm.

The reason for choosing the latter is that the style requires a more distinct sense of antiquity from the gods and a more primitive source of power. They have the existence form of matter, natural phenomenon, and matter movement. Except God of War. Compared with other gods, this special position changes faster. If you are a god by battle, you will often die in battle. In terms of seniority, Ming Ye, who came to Shangqing alone from the East China Sea and was ordered in danger, is still a young junior in the eyes of his colleagues, but the duty is that the God of War must charge forward and die. The twelve gods finally died. They came from nature, and returned to nature. Gods are supposed to be ruthless, but when they sacrifice, they are compassionate. It is indescribable that a ruthless god, who was supposed to live the same life as the heaven and earth, died for the short-lived sentient beings.

As for the setting of the demon god, the adaptation of the script liberates it from the framework of "a villain". It has no ambition, no desire, no likes and dislikes, no sorrow and joy, and it is not even a living body, but some kind of energy, or universal law. If all living beings in the three realms are immortal, there will be endless sorrow, resentment and anger. The accumulation of misery for hundreds of millions of living beings will take the form of demons and gods, which is irreversible. It's like a sick body with malignant sores, bright and festering. Even if the bones are scraped and dug away, it will only remove the incarnation of the appearance. The Demon God is like an invisible cloud, always floating over the world, and no one knows whether it will appear next time ten thousand years later or tomorrow.

In the battle of gods and demons, in order to avoid fighting all over the world without any support, the script delimits the battlefield in front of the Tianzhu. At this moment, the whole world is embodied as this huge divine pillar behind him. If the pillar exists, the world will be safe, and if the pillar falls, the world will be destroyed. The furious demon god showed his wrathful appearance, like (the myth of) Gonggong crashing into Buzhou Mountain and smashing the Tianzhu. The god perishes, turns into a war halberd, and supports the world again.

After the fall of the gods, in fact, an era has come to an irretrievable end, and even if Ming Ye is alive, he is powerless to change it. The essence of the contradiction between Teng Snake-Tianhuan and Ming Ye-Sangjiu is the reshuffle of power after the Great War. When the era of gods came to an end, the aristocratic forces Teng Snake immediately launched a counterattack. (?)

(3) Between man and God

After the Great War between the gods and demons, the collapsed pillars of heaven scattered across the world, becoming spiritual veins everywhere, and mortals gathered to practice, and fairy gates gradually emerged. The gate of immortality is outside the world of mortals, and the cultivators themselves come from the world. They are both troubled by the seven emotions and six desires, birth, old age, sickness and death, and they also have the method of detachment. Trekking from the mortal world to the immortal road is for practice.

Hengyang Sect and Xiaoyao Sect are the two sects where the protagonist belongs. In the adaptation of the script, Hengyangzong was endowed with some Mohist spirit. They have strict discipline, and they practice hard in the sect; they pay attention to the hardships of the world, and their disciples take turns going down the mountain to exorcise evil spirits;

At the beginning of the story, the Xiaoyao Sect was in a hurry, and the Hengyang Sect went up to the head and down to Li Susu, the younger junior sister, to rush to the rescue. But when the demon god came to Hengyang Sect, knowing that the strength of the two sides was extremely different, the disciples of Hengyang Sect still lined up neatly, "The disciples of Hengyang Sect are guarding the Mingwu Hall today, the sect will not stop, and the barrier will not be broken!" Disciple's spiritual inheritance of "go through the water and die, never die".

The spirit of Zongmen and the teachings of Qu Xuanzi's love deeply influenced Li Susu, not only made her " virtuous", upright and bright, and always insisted on kindness, but also made her persevere like iron and never give up an inch, even if her heart was broken and her body was crushed. Broken Soul also has to complete the task. Even in the deepest darkness, in the most painful despair, when all previous efforts have been abandoned and the heart is ashamed, I still choose responsibility.

The Xiaoyao School, on the other hand, infused more of Zhuangzi's spirit, and the whole school set the goal of being free and contented in life. When Hengyang Sect disciples study by themselves from five to nine, they are doing BBQ; when Hengyang Sect disciples are doing tasks, they are fighting Demon God Killer; They are all waiting for the occasional sun to come out and quickly dry the quilt and pants.

Cang Jiumin, who was blinded by happy education, finally got rid of the heavy shackles that could not be worn away by five hundred years of nether water, "Forget about things outside, and forget about yourself inside". He walked forward under the trust and protection of Master, and the clock stopped in his heart and finally started to turn again. Saving people with the God-killing Crossbow was a rehearsal of self-reflection, and after refining the Huxin Lin, Tantai Jin completely reconciled with himself, "Today I know that I am me", from a single thought of a god and a devil to a body of a god and a devil. Since then, all the coercion and temptation of monsters and the lobbying of ancient demon gods have lost their magical power. The fate of the world has thus changed.

Xiaoyaozong is shrouded in clouds and mists all year round, and the sun is not visible, but the junior brother Cang Jiumin is here to push through the clouds and mists, and suddenly see the light. Zhuangzi's " Heaven, earth and I were born side by side, and all things are one with me" is the state of the gods in the play.

3. Fate and Breaking Fate

The three magic weapons that appeared in the original work: Mirror of the Past, Qingshihua倾世花 (World overturning flower/jade), and Huxinlin护心麟 (dragonheart shield), their names are kept in the script, but their origin and function have been adapted. They constitute three intertwined long and short lines, connecting the past, present and future destiny.

In the catastrophe of annihilation, Li Susu was brought back five hundred years ago by the mirror of the past. She struggled to find Jize and witnessed the moment when Jize fell and transformed into the mirror of the past. Fate drew a circle at this moment, she found him, witnessed his death, and his death sent her to him.

Sang Jiu is enchanted, and the Tu Jin Teng Snake Clan refines the world-famous jade. Tantai Jin chose it because of the despair of quenching thirst by drinking poison, while Li Susu replaced it because of her unrelenting protection, and the inevitable fate of death will connect the two closely, just like Ming Ye and Sang who engraved each other with regret in Prajna Floating Life liquor. In the end, Li Susu turned the world-overturning jade, which was originally an evil thing, into divine marrow, and replaced Tantai Jin's evil bone with it.

And Hu Xinlin, originally from Ming Ye's heart to save the world, shaped the Buzhao Mountain full of fairy spirit, gave birth to the Xiaoyao Sect, and was brought to the world by Pang Yizhi, a disciple of the Xiaoyao Sect. After changing hands several times, he was finally rescued on the wedding night. They killed Tantai Jin, let him come to Xiaoyaozong alive, and reshaped Hu Xinlin.

Behind the three artifacts are the eyes of Ming Ye, Sang Jiu, and Jize who have been watching silently through thousands of years.

In addition to magic weapons and artifacts, the script runs through a large number of prophetic plots, either solemnly revealed, or unintentionally joked, and finally confirmed one by one in fate. The sense of fate is creepy, but the adaptation of the play spends effort to create this sense of fate, not to promote fatalism, but just the opposite. The Three Realms are boundless, all living beings are insignificant, and a tragic fate looms before your eyes, even the gods who know everything cannot be shaken. The more indestructible and unpredictable fate is, the more shocking it will be to violate it and break it.

The old Clam King told little Sangjiu a short story about saving pigeons by cutting their flesh. It is intense, bloody and pure, just like the fate of the characters in the play. No one knows how much it will cost to get back a little pigeon. When the dove flies lightly with destiny, the scale of life and death rises, hypocrisy does not exist, only piety remains, cowardice dissipates, only bravery, hypocrisy is annihilated, holiness appears, and everything in the world is mirrored before.

Sang Jiu exhausted all her flesh and blood, and finally lost her soul, regretting for thousands of years. Mingye exhausted his cultivation base and lifespan, and his spirit disappeared into pieces and turned into dust and smoke. Then, the pigeon fluttered out of Prajna Floating Life and flew towards Li Susu and Tantai Jin.

In the first half of his life, Tantai Jin desperately wanted to live. His "living" was a life that even the bottom of Maslow's pyramid could not have. He had nothing but pain. For such a miserable life, death was a complete relief, and he almost relied on animal instinct to struggle and refuse. However, from the perspective of the audience, it can be clearly seen that his body and mind have reached their limits, like a person who has already stood on the edge of the roof, and a gust of wind can blow him down the abyss.

Then Li Susu came and pulled him back from the brink, again and again. If she was cowardly, she would not have come here at all; if she was partial, Tantai Jin would have been abandoned from the very beginning. If she has justice but no kindness, if she has kindness but no justice, the mission will fail.

It's like a small game where there are many options to break through. Even the gods don't know how many questions are left, where is the correct answer, can't be skipped, there is no shortcut, and the game over is a wrong step. Li Susu has no strategies or spoilers. Her conscience prevents her from attacking the innocent Tantai Jin, and her responsibility forces her to carry out the plan to the end. She can only stumble and fear in the dilemma of justice and righteousness. Dragging the little devil forward. Keep going forward, even if you are desperate, even if you are happy, even if you are completely desperate.

Until the end of the chapter on the human world, she was just the little girl who ventured into the world alone, the youngest junior sister of the Hengyang Sect. The Goddess bloodline did not give her supernatural strength, racial advantages, or even the golden fingers that all the protagonists have, but only gave her an extremely difficult road and a painful fate. And all of this, no matter it was five hundred years ago or five hundred years later, she must keep her mouth shut. Five hundred years ago, she had no one to talk to. When she returned to the fairy gate, it seemed as if she woke up from a dream. Li Susu, a disciple of the fairy gate, was no longer an innocent girl. Secretly, to bear the pain of heartburn alone.

In Susu's chest, there is a heart of iron stone that is always optimistic. This iron stone is both an epee and a strong shield, protecting the sweetheart but must kill him. Until the final chapter, when the God-slaying Crossbow was aimed at the fairy gate again, she couldn't forget her love for Tantai Jin, struggling and hesitantly unable to ascend. And after becoming a god in Nirvana, knowing everything, and communicating with his lover, there is only one way to go before him, which is to become an accomplice of his lover's suicide.

If everything is given, will the gods turn back?

Tantai Jin in the human world chapter may be the person who is farthest from the gods in this world. At least Susu knew where the direction was, while Tantai Jin didn't know anything.

He didn't know why he killed his mother, why he made others fear him, why he couldn't catch it all, and dissipated in his hands when he caught it. He didn't know that his tears would turn into bullets that shot him, and he didn't even understand what it was when the nail hit. The greater pain was that he knew all about it later. Li Susu's love is a thread that pulls him up from the mud and makes him fall back, carries him through the sea of suffering and traps both of them. When he first came to this world, Tantai Jin was like a chess piece. Above the clouds that he could not know and touch, there was a giant hand of the game of gods and demons hidden, but when this chess piece miraculously broke free from the chessboard and fell to pieces... Afterwards, Tantai Jin became the chess player. He possessed the power enough to manipulate the fate of the world, and calmly chose the ending for himself and for the four continents and three realms.

For Tantai Jin, the world is a dark swamp with no roads, it is easy to turn into a demon, but he didn't. He tried his best to fight against his DNA, trying to climb out of bad luck, and finally found that he was bad luck itself, and he had to give up his flesh and blood.

When Tantai Jin and Li Susu realized this, the pigeons flew over. Giving up flesh and blood is not madness, but supreme mercy. This game of the brave cannot be passed without being pure and sincere. Tantai Jin and Li Susu are each other's white doves, and countless living beings in the three worlds and four continents are all carried on the feathers of the doves.

So the little pigeon decided to smash the indestructible destiny.

Four, and the last few sentences

If Changyue Jinming is disassembled, what kind of script is it?

It consists of three main lines: the mission of the heroine, the growth of the hero, and the game between gods and demons. The former two are intertwined with each other, and the latter emerges gradually, and finally climbs up the stairs with the audience, overlooking the Three Realms and looking back at the floating life.

It is composed of many imperfect characters: in the rules of idol drama creation, soft and flawless characters are safer and more popular, but multi-faceted characters belong to this story and live up to the due drama space. These facets are bright and dark, each mirroring other aspects of the character himself as well as other characters.

Each of its episodes consists of 15-20 small plot points and 2-4 events. Every 2 episodes there is a fluctuation in plot, emotion or character relationship, and every 5 episodes will cross a stage, which is oversaturated The plot may break due to information loss in subsequent productions, but it is enough to guarantee roller coaster ups and downs.

It does not say that love can save everything. In the whole story, love is the most fragile thing that is always abandoned, but it is precious because of its fragility and immortal because of its ephemerality.

It is not about the victory of gods defeating demons, nor the victory of a certain protagonist. It is about many people who sacrificed their lives, devoted their wisdom, and devoted themselves to it regardless of the outcome. In the end, the river was diverted and the fate of the world changed.

It is a work with many shortcomings and many regrets. From scratch, all participants have tried their best, worked hard, and taken risks, and perhaps left a little "different".

Writing scripts is a very lonely job. Most of the time, hard work does not mean rewarding, but film and television creation as a whole is like a relay race. The author of the original author hands the first baton to the screenwriter. The baton was handed over to the director, actors, art, costumes... After finishing, the baton was handed over to editing, special effects, and post-production. Every great creation is equally important. Everyone handed over the club with all their energy, and ran forward exhausted, competing for the final tacit understanding and unpredictable luck. And this last stick is given to the audience. I have always felt that audience discussions, judgments, and secondary creations are not feedback from film and television works, but a part of creation, the one that lasts the longest. In the script, there are also some deliberately vague plots left for the audience to characterize, such as the farewell between Sang Jiu and Tantai Jin.

Since Changyue started broadcasting, I have followed up the discussions and criticisms of each episode. It is a very precious opportunity to go back from the last stick to the beginning. I have learned a lot by reflecting on the script and looking for the crux.

It is a great honor to be able to participate in this creation with all of you.

#long post #till the end of the moon meta #till the end of the moon #长月烬明

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lemonhemlock · 4 months

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Ok so I went through your Helaemond tag a little bit and had complete whiplash because do not cite the deep magic to me etc., I was shipping it when it was me and iskarieot writing unhinged posts about BTS scenes for the Helaemond adult actors before the episode with them even aired. I dipped around the finale or maybe a little before (I have zero recollection) and had NO idea of the fandom furore lmao. I wrote one of the first Helaemond fics in the AO3 tag (💅) and was literally just mainlining the spice melange ok. I was seeing things my terrible purpose

I cannot believe it got this out of control???? All the moralising??? Nobody (all 5 of us) gave a fuck about team Black/team Green and it wasn't intended to discredit either side at all, although I did love the idea of Alicent's children doing the same shit as Rhaenyra - that was more because I love death misery and despair and Alicent/Rhaenyra parental role-model family tumbleweed free-for-all. You made our children like this!!! lesbian parthenogenesis so true so true

Anyway I really enjoyed the dark courtly romance of it all, one of the things which specifically interested me is that Aegonfail sloppy wet wish-I'd-been-born-a-girl-to-marry-Rhaenyra's-kids-aka-my-cousins-nephews is bad at practising Targcest since he's not interested in Helaena in the one scene that started it all, which is like, a Good Thing Perhaps, but Helaemond is also a little bit True Love, and so everything is lovely and fucked up. It made all the characters much more interesting because you get complexity added to three, even four characters in one fell swoop, illegitimate children or nay. Power is a shadow on the wall etc. I didn't actually like, have a dog in this illegal child fighting ring; I am interested in the way these characters interact with, resist, covet the feudal system/positions therein, the way men and women alike negotiate what power is afforded based on sex and arbitrary inheritance, and being in love with the wrong brother who has the Audacity to not want to Practise Incest, and so on and so forth. (This is my extrapolation anyway. I think it's interesting that dragonboy cannot dragonboy but also has the most beautiful dragon ever and is going to be the king styled after the vewy fiwst Aegon. At least one Targ has gotta have a bit of an ick with this whole business and Mummy's Number One Boy who's passed out drunk and doesn't even wunna rule has to be it for me).

I want to end this ask with an apology because I feel partially culpable, for some reason. I'm literally just a tumblrina nobody but at the very least I can say at ground zero (I didn't see your posts back then but also if you were There, you were There as well ofc - I'm sorry I didn't go back that far through your tag or see you mention when you started shipping it, and also Everybody Matters in fandom no matter when you join, and I want us all to hold hands, and I hate when we fight cries) it was never ill-intentioned. We were just crazy

My goodness, what an interesting piece of lore. 😅 You certainly pointed out a few of the themes that make helaemond appealing from a shipping point of view. The fact that you started to ship it just based on the actors' BTS just goes to show how perceiving a random interaction can open up new perspectives.

I personally started posting a few weeks after the season finale, but, like many people, my helaemond eyes opened just watching the dinner table scene (in conjunction with the Driftmark conversation between aegond regarding Helaena it was just a compounded thing).

And, of course, like you said it was never really meant to be anything other than a fun ship to play around with! I had very little clue about the endless moralising that was about to follow - November 2022 me would tell you it's goofy af to be so stuck up about another incest ship in THEE incest show and, honestly, she'd be right.

So, there's absolutely no need to apologise, we were all just trying to vibe within the freak slice of fandom. I don't think anyone started ~peddling this ship as an inside job against team green or to discredit Alicent or whatever the hell other chronically-online interpretation I've heard. :))

Personally, I know I've used this as a pretext to procrastinate from my actual responsibilities and it was definitely.....interesting.....to witness all the varied reactions, some more unhinged than others, but, at this point, all of us need to step back a little and chill, because there's nothing really to debate anymore. It's the time for fan artists and fic writers to shine.

#or for context-imaginers / fic prompters etc 😅#ask #anon #helaemond

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jinxthejubilee · 1 year

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Venus de Milo - We Need to Talk

Because I'm desperate to see Rise of Tmnt get a third season, I need to talk about it more. And for that, I must ask this question: What do you guys think of Venus de Milo?

Honestly, I think she could be a great addition to the series. Pretty much anything they do with her would be better than the disgrace that was The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Next Mutation.

I feel really bad for her because the writers never gave her a chance to be her own character. They just fell back on a bunch of period-typical tropes for female characters and never even utilized those tropes in an interesting way.

So if Venus was in ROTTMNT, here are the questions/ideas I have for both the writers, and the audience:

Since the boys are all four different species of turtles, what kind of turtle would she be?

(Maybe a diamondback?)

What color should her mask be?

It shouldn't be just a lighter color of one of the boys, she needs to be distinct.

I would say yellow, but that's Jennika's color.

Maybe silver?

Should they change her name to an actual female Renaissance artist?

If so, what would it be? And if not, what is the backstory of how she was named "Venus de Milo?"

If they keep her as the long lost sister of our main 4, how did she get separated from them in the first place?

Did Draxum keep her separated on purpose before they all got mutated?

Was she thrown out because Draxum no longer thought she was a suitable candidate for his experiments?

What was the reason?

How would they all meet each other?

Probably fighting each other, if I'm being honest. That's basically how they've met everyone in this series.

What would her weapon be?

I would say a fan, but people might be bothered that they assigned a traditionally "feminine" weapon to the only other girl in the group.

Maybe the tetsubo?

The kyoketsu-shoge?

Either way, she needs her own weapon unless they want to keep her magical powers from the original show, which would actually work really well in this particular series.

How would the creators revamp her personality?

Raphael in this series is kinda like a den mother already, so if they keep that aspect of her character the same as she was in The Next Mutation, they may need to dial that back a notch.

Maybe she could be very shy, skittish, and awkward, but once she warms up to her family and friends' love and acceptance, she gets more excitable and fun.

Also, maybe replace "motherly" with just "very formal," as in she speaks very formally and has a hard time loosening up around people.

She can still have that somewhat oblivious nature when it comes to references and cultural idioms, like she did in The Next Mutation, but not too much to the point that it becomes annoying. She just doesn't know how to interact normally due to her upbringing.

I've seen art and a few stories like this before, but what if before Draxum became a good guy (or this could be Big Mama, whoever works), he created Venus by mutating her with a small sample of Splinter's DNA?

If not a baby, then a little girl? Around 10 years old or so? Just throwing some ideas out there.

Which goes into my next question: Should Venus be older or younger than Mikey?

We all know that Mikey is baby, and people might want him to stay that way.

Unless they want Mikey to be the older brother for once and be the best and awesomest big brother ever!

I'd say this is less likely to happen though.

The most likely option is Venus being older than Mikey, but younger than Leo and Donnie.

I can dig the awkward big sister and excitable little brother dynamic.

Another idea that I saw was making Venus the same age as Leo and Donnie so that the three of them could be "triplets," and personally, I love that idea.

Speaking of Big Mama, I saw some people speculating that this person:

Might be Venus, who works for Big Mama.

That could be an interesting take on her.

Maybe after Draxum threw her out, she was found by Big Mama or one of workers and now serves under her.

Building up relationships

This is definitely going to be a separate discussion for another day, but Venus' relationships with everybody could be an awesome topic to explore.

The personalities of every single character in this show are very distinct and they bounce off each other very well, so what would happen if you throw Venus into the mix?

First off, getting rid of the idea of Venus as a love interest is a must since she will be revamped as their sister.

The boys are used to having a older sister figure in their lives because of April, so how would having a younger sister work?

Raph would obviously be a bit overprotective as usual, making sure she's comfortable and feels safe around them, which depending on her personality, she could appreciate it immensely, or not, but for the sake of his feelings, she doesn't say anything.

Donnie would be happy to have another person to show off his inventions, and they could bond over her actually taking interest in what he has to say.

Leo would be the one she talks to/is the most comfortable around, since he's pretty chill and understands that he shouldn't overwhelm her like Raph or the others tend to do. That said, Leo would be siked to have another sibling, and would show her all that she needs to know about their family, their favorite pizza places, and how they work together as a team.

Mikey would be the top brother excited to have a sister. Younger or older, he'd drag Venus around like a ragdoll to show her anything and everything! Pizza, games, arts and crafts, the Jupiter Jim movies, everything! He might be a little annoying when he gets like this, but that adorable smile on his face breaks down any resistance Venus has.

Master Splinter is an interesting one. He might feel guilty for essentially abandoning Venus, leading her to work for Draxum, Big Mama, or whatever villain she serves, if she serves anyone at all. Maybe she'll be a bit resentful of him for that, and avoid interacting with him for a while, until he eventually apologizes and makes an attempt to kindle a father-daughter relationship with her. Once they get there though, it's very sweet, with Splinter promising to be there for her and make up for lost time.

GIRLS NIGHT WITH APRIL AND SUNITA!!! This needs to happen! All three girls banning together and having little adventures of their own. If Venus is the shy one of the group, April and Sunita can show her the ropes and help build up her confidence. Positivity is a must! 🌟

And, of course, like every character on this show, we need some trauma. Paranoia is her worst enemy.

A plausible reason of why Venus is so quiet is because she was order never to speak out of line or she would be punished. She was like a robot, who never gained her own identity as she was only seen as a tool.

She's so afraid of making others upset to the point that she overthinks everything and just stops talking altogether.

Sometimes her fears and ridiculous assumptions about what could happen can be played for laughs, but her anxious nature is just...not fun for her.

Which leads to everyone helping her break out of her comfort zone and become more comfortable with the family and the outside world overall.

They might be too pushy at times, but they only have good intentions. However, these things take time, and they must learn to be more patient.

All in all, I think that Venus could be a splendid character if the people in charge of TMNT actually TRY to play with her personality and backstory, and not just let her become a walking don't list for how not to create a female character in a male-centric franchise.

Soooo...that's it! If you made it this far, first of all, thank you so much! And second, let me know how you would interpret Venus' character. We NEED this show to come back, and I want to give this girl justice!

Once again, thank you all so much for reading! Stay safe out there! And I'll see you later! Byeee! 💗

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sammywolfgirl · 8 months

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Okay there was at least one like on the interest post so here’s the pitch-

I’m framing this like I got full creative direction for a cookie run kingdom event, will no limitations like budget, time, or executive interfearence

That being said I’m also pitching this as a ‘give devs creative team an easy update’ since a majority of the things used in this update are already designed in some way so this event could take place before a major event like a major lore drop, big anniversary update, etc.

That being said

Cookie run Kingdom: Jellywalkers attack!

I’ll go over gameplay stuff first.

First off this is a two part update like the moonlight Anniversary update was. So an extra long one.

As for new cookies there will be four new Epic cookies- one released in the first and second half of each update half.

No super epics or legendarys, because god I’m so tired of the special gachas one after another! Instead the ‘special Gacha’ will just be an event costume Gacha.

There will be costumes released in theme with the update but also a special Gacha that give character skins with unique voice lines. But they’re special costumes and not legendary. I will elaborate when we get there.

Now onto the characters.

In the first half of the update we will get Energy drink cookie, an epic bomber class. (Also in this post I’ll be using my gender fluid energy drink headcanon so I’ll be using he/she/they for him.)

Energy drinks skill involves her sending out an aoe attack that puts a defence debuff on the enemies, if his skill is used again they will grand a powerful attack and defence buff on the team. These two skill effects alternate every use. And durring the buffing skill use she will go into that green power up energy mode, and her own attack speed will increase for a short while before returning to normal. Maybe this mode procks after every skill use regardless if it’s the attack or buffing skill phase. I’m open to suggestions on that front

In the first part of the update Twizzly Gummy cookie will get a magic candy. This candy is going to be a bit of a gimic but I think it’ll be fun. This candy will buff the critical hit chance for her special making it stupid easy to get crits. Add in a damage buff and twizzlys skill is a stupid good aoe. My girl deserves to be broken for a while. The magic candy ingredient will be “electrifying wires”

Costume wise in this half we open the special guest costume Gacha which iiiiis, costumes of the band of misfits! Costumes for avocado, mint choco, strawberry, and carrot cookie that give them the appearence of the alt timeline gang, their dialogue reflecting these characters and getting special dialogue when interacting with Twizzly or each other. These likely would be event exclusive costumes so once the event is over you can’t get them but idealy they’d be put in the regular Gacha but made rare after the event is over because I know I’m not the only Twizzly gang enjoyer out there! Also the event would hand out rainbow cubes a lot so pfp players will get a chance to get them. Maybe also some costume chests where you pick one guaranteed would also be prizes in the event because I like being nice.

There will also be a new decor tab themed off those unreleased cookie wars jellywalker decor items. With some added stuff themed around Twizzly too. Twizzly gets a decor set where she powers up a neon sign and cackles about it. And maybe also energy drink can interact with it, where they tag it with a sticker lmao.

For events outside of the story we’ll bring in a new event in the first update part

This event is an endless wave survivor. You build up a team (or three super mayhem style, but at least one) and you put them agains an endless wave of enemies. You gain points for the amount of time survived and how many enemies defeated, earning event tokens to upgrade hp, attack, and defender like the boss events. Though no bosses will appear, at most strong enemies that give a lot of points if defeated. The banner event tied to this gives the usual rewards, but maybe add in a costume if you’re feeling creative. Like Angel cookies jellywalker costume from ovenbreak.

In the second half of this update Wasabi cookie will be released. a cookie decor for her will be released in the second part of the event. It’s a decor that’s themed after her lab. Let her do mad science and look at stuff in goopy test tubes

Wasabi is an Epic rank ambush cookie. And her skill launches wasabi shots at the enemies and dealing major crit damage. Maybe there’s also poison damage as an element because I don’t want to add acid as a new element when that’s just poison but green. (The skill isn’t something I’m super happy with so I’m open to ideas)

Wasabi will get her own bingo card event like Twizzly gummy did when released.

The story mode will be attached to the storybook style thing since I like that and why not. I’ll get into the plot later though.

The second part of the event is when the rest of the cookies release. And also the costumes.

For costumes it’ll be like acid punk sort of dystopian themed costumes, they get their own special pull animations like the star ones and rock event ones. I don’t have a name for these yet but here’s the costume ideas:

Candy diver gets a costume that looks like their head is filed with a mix of the jellywalkers purple goop and energy drinks green potion thing. The rest of the suit taking on a blacklight sort of pallet and adding some grunge to it. The description would basically state that as candy diver is a ghost the jellywalker virus has no effect on them. But best keep that stuff inside the head just to be safe.

Wasabi gets a costume reminiscent of or just straight up her Wasabi overdrive costume. Similar costume description too but reference the jellywalkers more clearly.

Twizzly Gummy gets a blacklight/neon costume and listen I just need her hair up for this put it in a ponytail. Other than that I’d imagine it’s something that’d look good standing next to energy drink (this will be important later) maybe give her a puffy jacket and star stickers idk.

Affogato is a wildcard pick but hear me out. Either his costume is him utilizing wasabi goop or whatever as a poison and give him a neon green blacklight sort of costume reflecting that. OR some sort of jellywalker infection. He tried to use this to his advantage and it bit him in the ass. Not full jellywalker but he is clearly infected and probably a liability in a survival situation. But it’s fine it’s just a costume :3

This half is also when the super mayhem event goes live. It’d work as any other super mayhem event, but the special thing in battle would be some like charge to built up an energy drink blast or wasabi blast idk

And now for the cookies! In the first half of the event, a whole new cookie will be released! I’m uh, still developing this character name and design wise but I got the idea for their theme and stats

An epic cookie, support class. Their skill will give everyone damage resistance and a healing over time. Plus imunity to poison type damage for a time.

In the second half we will get Zombie cookie

Zombie cookie is an epic rank cookie who is an attacker class. I don’t have many ideas for it’s skill right now but I’m thinking something that either summons undead mobs for a time or some sort of gravestone related attack like in the puzzle game. (Their revive skill can be tied to a later magic candy release or something)

Last things of note- voices! I don’t have anyone in particular as a dream casting for energy drink or unnamed new guy but I got ideas-

For energy drink ideally I’d like their voice to be ambiguous enough that it could be read as masculine or feminine, I don’t have a strong leaning one way for another. but it’d be Even better if the Va is actually genderfluid or somewhere on the nonbinary spectrum. We love gender fluid cookie in this house.

For wasabi I sort of imagine her voice similar to Eda from the owl house, so either that va or someone who can do a similar impression. But a bit more mad science because it’s wasabi.

For the new guy all I really got is something masculine and can sound very scared, this cookie is characterized by being a coward in a terrifying situation, but is working to be brave. So something sympathetic but not annoying if people think this guy is annoying it’ll make the character unfun.

As for zombie? Similar route to candy diver. No specific voice actor, just grab someone from the development team who can make the best weird noises and you’re set. This thing can’t talk lean into the weird noises. But be fun about it

Last thing of note- as this is a storybook style event like the dragon city, rock festa, and mermaid tale event there will be a sort of ‘settlement’ level with a few cookies and Catnip the merchant. I’m thinking this is a city going on thr defensive, and the npcs are commenting on how scary this all is or worrying about friends. And catnip does their usual info dump and is like “even at the start of the apocalypse capitalism still reigns!..but I’ll keep the prices fare considering the situation” (In game the prices are the same as always)

Now with all that out of the way! Into the actual story

The plot

I will admit I sort of plan to write some version of this event out so it will be relying on some headcanons, but I’ll try to write out this plot so you don’t need them to enjoy the story.

If I make a fic it’ll be it’s own cannon basically.

Also exact details are vague right now so I’ll get the plot points out.

First half of the story-

It’s a peaceful day at the cookie kingdom when suddenly, a rumbling in the distance. It feels like an earthquake and the cookies are confused. But cut to Twizzly gummy who looks confused and then curious. That felt like a time rift, a rogue one. What’s going on? Something fun for once? Moments later another rift opens in town, and out emerges energy drink, who immediately declares this world is in danger.

The jellywalkers are coming, and if this kingdom, no this world doesn’t prepare defences right now everyone is doomed. The cookies are skeptical until Twizzly actually vouches for her. See the thing is Twizzly and energy drink have history… but it left them on sort of rocky terms so energy drink isn’t all too happy to see Twizzly again. She tries to brush it off and just asks what’s up, he only looks that serious when something bad is happening. And energy drink repeats what they stated before. The jellywalkers are coming.

Something something they manage to convince the cookies to prepare defences, the alchemist or someone going with gingerbrave to send out letters to warn the other kingdoms and settlements. Energy drink asks if any other rifts opened and Twizzly points her in the direction of where she feels the big one opened. Energy drink plans to head out alone but Twizzly stops them

“You playing this solo again? No way, I’m here now so I’m going with!”

“I don’t have time for games Twizzly, these cookies are in real trouble-“

“You think I don’t know? I saw what those things did to the timeline I found you in. I live here so I’m helping. End of story”

Energy drink is quiet, but agrees.

So the two head out, and make a plan. First, they need to find a cookie to make a cure, energy drink already has an outline that can be followed, they just need the mind to make it. And he already has one in mind. Hopefully she’s in this timeline… step two is locate the source of the jellywalkers, the comet and destroy it. That will prevent any new cases so the rest can be cured or destroyed. So the two head out,

In a town nearby where the jellywalkers comet landed, the invasion has begun. Hoardes of zombies attacking and turning anyone unlucky enough to be in their sight. This unearthly purple slime spreading and sticking to whatever it can latch onto. The city is in panic trying to flee, they were unprepared. They couldn’t have prepped enough since the source was so close to them. It’s a disaster. This is where we meet the unnamed new cookie who I’ll be calling uhhhh Buddy for now. Buddy is terrified, his friend was turned and he just managed to get away. He hides in an alleyway, clutching a container of jelly water, (imply it’s a similar ingredient to what they are made from this is relevant) suddenly they hear a noise, it sounds like the groaning of a jellywalker. In a panic they hurl the contents of their container at the monster, yelling about not wanting to be eaten. But to his confusion the being who was just doused stops. Is panicked a moment, but that purple jelly melts away revealing… Zombie cookie! It’s confused, and blinks. Buddy blinks too.

What just happened?

Somehow he realizes this zombie is harmless and also realizes even faster that zombie has declared them its friend and won’t leave his side. Buddy decides for now to flee with zombie cookie, maybe it can help somehow? Zombie is just happy to have a buddy.

Back with Twizzly and energy drink, they fight through jellywalkers, the virus is spreading fast, not good. They need to find Wasabi cookie and fast. Lucky for them they run into her just up ahead. Like the mad scientist she is she’s already been studying and experimenting with the infected zombies, trying to understand what this purple substance is and how to destroy it. So when energy drink asks her to help make a vaccine she’s like “what do you think I’m doing? But the extra help would be appreciated!” And then she cackles like she isnt planning some mad scientist excitements once that vaccine is done. So the trio are now working to gather ingredients. But it’s soon found out they’re missing one last thing. A vital agent to properly dissolve the jellywalker cells. But unfortunately she doesn’t have that and nobody is sure what it is. Because energy drink reveals that this varient of jellywalkers is different from the one in their timeline so the weakness for this is likely vastly different.

Well shit.

And that’s where the first half cuts.

In part two we start again with buddy and zombie. Running for their fucking lives. Buddy is confused why the jellywalkers are attacking zombie and it’s like (shrug emoji) turns out zombie wasn’t with them it has just always been like that. Wack. Anyways as the two flee they bump into energy drink, wasabi, and Twizzly fighting off some zombies, they quickly work together to make an opening and get to safety. Energy drink immediately points her blaster at zombie but buddy is like “NO THATS MY FRIEND!” And very quickly explains that it’s not dangerous and they spilled their canteen on it and the purple goop melted away and-

“Did you say those contents dissolved the jellywalker virus?” Wasabi immediately cuts in. To which buddy nods. “Give me that!” She snatched the canteen which does have more traces of this ingredient inside. She then laughs because AHA WE FOUND IT. Energy drink is surprised. But surly that alone couldn’t have dissolved the virus.

Twizzly shrugs and is just like “maybe zombie here was just Uniquely qualified to not get totally infected” to which zombie just makes a gurgling noise.

Energy drink concludes they’ll worry about that later. Now the gang needs to get to wasabis lab and synthesize the vaccine. That way they can cure the infected after the source is destroyed. On the trail back wasabi learns that the jelly water in the canteen is a similar/the same ingredient to what buddy is baked from and looks at him intently.

Buddy is now scared.

But yeah they get to the lab and wasabi and buddy work on the cure (or well buddy is dragged by wasabi) while the rest of the gang protects the base. After the vaccine is done, it’s time to head to the source.

They go to the meteorite, it’s swarming with that goop and zombies. Buddy wonders why he’s here, this whole time he’s been having an arc about being scared and trying to overcome that fear to help, with the help of zombie. This concludes when energy drink reasures them that they need his help.

Wasabi elaborates, seems that buddy’s ingredient is a perfect repellent of the jellywalker virus, with him around splashing that cleaner the gang won’t get infected. So they can focus on destroying the meteor. He bravely nods, resolved to help.

And then we get the final boss who can be like a giant jelly Walker goop pile with thr meteor as a core, get as body horror as the rating will allow! We got the licorice sea abomination WE CAN GO HARDER!

But in the end the source is destroyed and the rift sealed by energy drink (she has some timeweaver scissors he stole a long time ago) and wasabi is eager to send out the vaccine. Soon the invasion is over and all the pure jellywalker monsters are destroyed and infected cured. Things start to go back to normal.

Zombie decides to stay with buddy who’s now got more confidence in himself. And wasabi seems all to eager to experiment on him and zombie.

Zombie cookie is now scared.

Twizzly and energy drink have one last conversation before energy drink has to leave, after all the jellywalkers haven’t been destroyed across all time yet. He has a duty to track it and protect other timelines from the fate hers faced. Twizzly is like “you’re doing it alone”

“…mostly, but the extra help was nice, I’ll consider recruitment more often next time” Twizzly smiles. And says they can visit any time. She missed them.

Energy drink says not to push her luck. They doubt they can stay friends. Their paths aren’t compatible anymore.

Twizzly says that’s no excuse not to visit for a drink or something. The cake in this timeline is the best after all! Plus the gang missed her. Energy drink says they’ll think about it.

Twizzly laughs and says good enough. So energy drink leaves and things go back to normal as rebuilding begins.

Now for the bonus scene! I’ll do the ‘cannon’ one first as In most likely to be in the game and then my own “my au” version for funsies because I’m shameless.

The bonus scene is at the TBD, croissant cookie and String gummy are watching the last scene on a ctv screen before they talk. Croissant is glad things worked out, but worries about the cleanup. String gummy says he’ll get to work on smoothing things out timeline wise soon. But doesn’t seem all to happy to have to deal with Twizzly (give a nod to the two having a connection, sincd the sibling/alt timeline headcanons are popular from what I can tell) have a bit of banter between the two that establishes they’re fiends. And at the end have timekeeper appear, cloaked in shadow, and question marks on their name. They won’t say who they are in the story yet But if you know you KNOW. They simply say to stay on schedule before disappearing in a rift to the ticking of clocks. String gummy seems upset that they won’t help, but croissant reasures him that this means she trusts them to handle things. And back to work they go.

Only comment voice wise here is timekeeper’s va has to be the same as croissant cookies, but have them do a little bit of a different voice (but still similar enough) and add a radio filter. God please I want timekeeper to sound like she’s constantly talking through an old timey radio, snack crackle pop up in this bitch.

As for string gummy something serious and a little gravely voice wise. But still capable of sounding warm to.

This scene is both to feed the tbd fans who are eager for the place to come to kingdom. (Or just gnawing at the bit for tbd content in general) But also to establish what the TBD is in the kingdom universe and game in general. It’s for the kingdom exclusives who don’t know who the fuck Twizzly is talking about and don’t want to download a whole new game just for the lore(tm)

Now for my purely for me ending that will likely be used for a fic. It’s similar setup but at the Neon hellscape. And it’s Stilton and Moldy Butter pretzel discussing the event. Generally similar banter but the subject is wondering when Twizzly can get back because that’s their buddy. TimeWrender makes a camio and is just being vaguely threatening towards the tbd. Wondering how they can mess with them as they clean things up. Moldy is like “don’t cause too much of a scene. Don’t want them to find out about this place” and wrend giggles.

AAAAAND THATS THAT! That’s the event! Maybe if the brain worms hit I’ll make some designs for the costumes or enemies idk.

Thoughts are appreciated and like I said I want to develop this idea for like a fanfic for my au, because I did not put this much effort into an idea to NOT use it for like a fanfic

Anyways thanks for reading I’m so normal about time cookies Guys

#it me #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run au #headcanons #fake event #energy drink cookie #twizzly gummy cookie #zombie cookie #cookie run oc #wasabi cookie #fanfic

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