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bastard witch of indeterminate age: did you like my. potion. 😝

15 year old niecewife in my ear: ooooooh daemon you wanted to fuck your brother sooo bad but the closest thing you could get was me and you don’t even like who you made me be sucks to suck you fucking idiot

second wife who incinerated herself and our unborn child in front of me: i’m also here

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Prince Daemon and his dragon twins from the world of @syndrossi (not pictured is Otto Hightower who is inspiring the three way side eye)

Pls ignore that I can’t draw hands! Or legs…

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‘the whole point of robb’s plot line is that he’s a good warrior but a bad politician’ actually I would argue that the whole point of robb’s plot line is that if all of your adversaries have long since abandoned their morals, there is no way that you can be virtuous AND victorious. the decision that seals his fate (marrying jeyne) is also the decision that he never would have made differently, because what is a crown without honour? what is a throne worth if you have to morally bankrupt yourself to win it? robb was never going to win, because his opponents were playing a different game from the start.

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That moment when Agatha’s Tarot Card followed her through her entire life.

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It is raining where I live, and so I must tell you that I had a thought -- Jon is all healed up and is allowed to go to training, but it starts to rain, and Jon tries to insist they should keep training anyway (because battles don't stop just because it's raining!), but the adults insist they go inside so they don't catch a chill and Gods forbid get *sick*, and then he and Rhaegar somehow ending up playing a very wet, muddy game of tag with their guards. That is the entirety of my thought process. Enjoy. Hope you had a good birthdaaaaaay!

This was too fun not to write, so impromptu "prompt" fill! As you said, this would be some time after Jon's ribs and arm are fully healed, 4-6 weeks after the latest chapter.

x~x~x

"I am sorry, my princes, but it is your father's insistence that you not linger in the rain."

Jon met Ser Erryk's gaze, finding a quiet determination in it that told him there was no sense trying to convince him otherwise. He shot a dour look in the direction Ser Criston had gone, certain now that the man had sent for their Kingsguard after they’d defied his instructions to continue training on their own.

Aegon had happily fled for the warmth and shelter of the holdfast, though Aemond had chosen to remain with them after Ser Criston's departure. It was a cold rain that fell, heavy and steady, and the yard was already turning to mud. The conditions were not unlike the day he had fought Rhaegar at the Gates of the Moon until his brother's hands had bled, but Rhaegar seemed to be enjoying the challenge today. There was something wild and exciting about rain that eroded with the onset of adulthood, where damp and cold sank in far deeper.

"Very well," Jon said, retreating to the armory, where the three of them worked their way out of their padded armor, setting their training swords aside.

Ser Erryk waited for them outside, raindrops hitting his polished armor so rapidly that they formed streams rather than individual droplets, the bottom of his hair utterly soaked. He looked more than eager to be out of the cold downpour.

Jon looked out over the yard. Where two dozen knights had been drilling earlier, it was now an empty expanse of mud and puddles, wide and vast. He looked at Rhaegar then, cocking his head in invitation. His brother's eyes widened for a moment, shifting sideways toward Ser Erryk, then he gave a faint nod.

"We shall go with you," Jon said graciously. "But first you must catch us."

With that, he took off, Rhaegar splitting off eastward. A glance over his shoulder found Aemond staring after them in shock before he too ran from the Kingsguard. Mud squelched satisfying beneath Jon's feet as he flew across it, water splashing up the sides of his pants, spattering his tunic. Rhaegar's braid whipped behind him, as he too glanced back to see Ser Erryk's reaction.

The knight's expression was too distant to make out, but his shoulders fell briefly in what Jon assumed was something between misery and despair before squaring. Ser Erryk started into a trot, his white cloak twisting in on itself, already a muddied brown at the bottom.

Ser Erryk was a man in his prime, powerful and athletic, but his heavy armor did him no favors in an impromptu game of chase. His booted stomps sank in deep, pulling on each foot before releasing it, while the boys nearly glided across it. They ran circles around him, despite the man's best efforts, until he halted and let out a sharp whistle that was loud even against the dampening patter of rain on stone and mud and metal.

Nothing happened for a time, other than the knight slowing out of what Jon assumed was a desire to conserve his strength. That did not stop them from running freely through the mud. Aemond was chasing after Rhaegar, but his brother was too fleet-footed for the younger boy to catch him.

A flash of movement caught his eye, and another white-cloaked Kingsguard appeared at the edge of the yard. Jon squinted through the rain, blinking constant water from his lashes, and realized that Ser Erryk had summoned his brother for aid.

Perhaps it is their hope that twins can catch twins, Jon thought, amused.

They were clever, however, the Cargyll brothers. They hunted as a unit, as a pair of direwolves might, converging on Rhaegar and Aemond. Rhaegar made an abrupt turn, leaving Aemond off balance as he raced in the opposite direction, and the knights broke for the easier target. Their cousin was scooped up by one of the brothers, and carried out of the yard, where a third Kingsguard was watching from the shelter of an overhang. He clasped Aemond's shoulder, and began herding him inside.

The Cargyll twins returned to the yard, and Jon could see them sizing up the situation before deciding upon a course of action. He had expected them to go after Rhaegar, since they must know that Jon would go to his aid, but to his surprise, they turned on him instead. As Jon sprinted away from them, he saw Rhaegar sweep back toward him, trying to bait them after him instead.

That is what they were aiming for, Jon realized a split second before they abandoned their chase of him, turning to Rhaegar instead, whose momentum was still carrying him in their direction. Jon cursed, moving in an arc toward them, but he knew he would be too late. Instead, he scooped a heavy handful of mud and let out a scream of challenge. It was enough to cause Ser Arryk to slow briefly, turning to him in concern, giving him the perfect opportunity to let his projectile fly.

The mud hit Ser Arryk square in the face, spattering his helmet and filling the eye holes with mud. It was enough of a distraction to create an opening for Rhaegar to alter direction and evade Ser Erryk's pursuit. Ser Arryk struggled with his helmet for a moment, pulling it free and flinging it aside. Rhaegar joined Jon at his side.

"Combined assault?" his brother asked.

"No mercy," Jon said with a grin.

They flung mudball after mudball at the brothers. Some handfuls were too wet, falling to slopping pieces after only a few feet of flight, but others pelted their pursuers, until their cloaks were pure brown. The knights seemed reluctant to return fire on their charges, even though it was unlikely the mud would do any true damage to them, and the weight of their armor, heavier still with the water-logged padding beneath, fatigued them far quicker than he and Rhaegar.

I do not think either of them can catch us.

It was a strangely exhilarating thought. With their blood pounding and breaths heavy, the rain and cold could not touch them.

The two knights exchanged quiet words, then took up pursuit once more. Jon did not realize they were being herded in a particular direction until he caught a dark shape in the corner of his eye, along the edge of the yard. A tall figure vaulted over the low fencing, silver-blond hair trailing after him, and his arms closed around Jon in something between a hold and a hug.

Daemon, Jon recognized, just as his foot came down on his father’s. A yelp escaped him, and Jon leveraged the slick layer of mud coating him to duck out of the grip.

Rhaegar covered his escape with a pair of impressively accurate mudballs. The first caught Daemon right in the chest, and the other on the back of his head as he angled his body away from the assault, the mud plastering his hair instead. Jon shot a wary glance at their Kingsguard, but Sers Erryk and Arryk had slowed, pausing as though unsure whether to proceed with the chase now that Daemon had involved himself.

That left them with only Daemon to worry about. As he turned back to them, arms crossing over his muddy chest, Jon looked over to Rhaegar. “We take him down with us.”

They scooped up two handfuls each of mud and then sprinted at Daemon as one, roaring a battle cry as they lobbed mudballs at him. Their father dodged out of two, but he could not evade the other two, one catching him in the side and the other in the cheek. It left him just enough off balance that when they both slammed into him, they were able to drive him to the ground with a satisfying squelch as his backside hit first, and his back next.

His eyes were narrowed as he stared up at them, then his hands closed around their ankles, yanking them off their feet to join him on the ground.

“Now we match,” Rhaegar informed Daemon, his innocent look far less effective when half his face was coated in mud.

An arm hooked around each of them, and Daemon hauled them up with him as he stood. Jon was flung over one shoulder, and Rhaegar the other, Daemon’s mud-caked hair slapping wetly against their cheeks as he carried them across the yard, to the holdfast. Sers Arryk and Erryk fell into position behind him.

“Perhaps next time,” Jon said to them smugly.

He could almost hear Daemon’s frown. “It is your duty to follow the instructions of those sworn to protect you.”

“Just as you do?” Rhaegar asked, clearly referring to the past two times Daemon had slipped his own knights. The king had complained loudly about it, or else they would never have known.

They were set back down on their feet once they had reached the dry shelter of the holdfast, and Daemon’s hands came to rest on their heads as he leaned down to kiss each mud-streaked forehead. “Better than I do, unless you wish to break your father’s heart.” The words had the intended effect, both of them exchanging a guilty look that made Daemon nod in satisfaction. “Now let us return home, so that we can be clean and matching.”

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY @kill-cry-die !!! 🥳🎉✨✨✨

I tried my best 🥹💙

(click for better quality if you're on the mobile app. do not repost.)

A Family Built on the Weary by DustShattersLikeGlass on Ao3

Scene specifically pulled from Part 9, “The Things We Lost in the Fire”, Chapter 7!

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my instagram explore page loves showing me those like erotic dark romance novel tiktoks and i really have to wonder: why do all these straight women desperately want to fuck a mafia boss

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I think it would be funny if agatha's son reincarnated into wanda's son who then had to reincarnate into teen and then the next movie is a court drama of agatha and wanda locked in a custody battle

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Overly Sarcastic Production's Apollo, the god of prophecy.

And the dodgeball he throws at random internet users.

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helaegon + the aftermath of blood and cheese

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My friends take on this years Olympic opening ceremony ✨

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Started with game of thrones, had some brief dalliances with Harry Potter but could never crack it, returned to game of thrones

I was 19 when I started writing fanfiction.

Feel free to mention your first fandom you wrote for and what inspired you to start writing in the replies!

PLEASE REBLOG!

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Writing scientific papers are so much more fiddly than the arts cos what do u mean I can’t reference this paper “it’s out of date”!! It’s from two years ago?! And then you’re like okay fine so what’s the new discovery that’s replaced it? It’s behind a pay wall so good luck finding out ✨

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bro ain’t even getting screen time in the fanfics 😭

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HOUSE OF THE DRAGON: The Red Dragon and the Gold (2024) inspiration @franzkafkagf

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I’ve kind of been getting into them lately to listen as I go to sleep, and I’m kind of debating giving it a try. The only thing is it feels oddly revealing to put my voice out there, writing is one thing, but my voice is something I could be actually identified by and that feels kinda scary. So what’s peoples opinion on podfics?