#MIRANDA / IC.

[screenshotsonpinterest]

Let’s be mature about it and not pretend like Lin didn’t eat his one line up just a little bit

[magisterhego]

Iceberg paintings by Jeremy Miranda

acrylic on panel

Prints

[royalreef]

She has two tickets for Nosferatu. Who is going with her.

[rxttenfish]

and a full color ref sheet for laudanda too! her silver color is effectively just a weird combination of the king’s blue with a dilute effect from the queen and more typical abyssal genes. she’s a bit like a color shifted miranda.

her attitude is primarily tired, irritated, bitter, and cold. the fact that she thinks the crown is in poor hands who will only handle it irresponsibly is an open secret among the courts of the low royals, and she might be a little scorned about the whole issue of her inheritance. she’s the king’s favorite and she knows it (although “favorite” is a strong word for the exact relationship there). amanda and her have the most favorable relationship, even if it is primarily based off of fear and amanda notoriously loathes her elder sister, bellanda outright and vocally hates her, and miranda freezes up and lets her do what she wants without a fight.

the courts respect and fear her, as even though she’s no longer next-in-line (being as in my lore, inheritance goes to the youngest, for lore reasons, personal preference, and also just tightening the story) she’s been given command of the merkingdom’s diplomatic relationships, both within the merkingdom as well as with the land and the nations that inhabit it. no treaties within the middle royals are signed without her approval, no trades happen if she does not want them to, and she can fundamentally change the economic state of any region within the merkingdom if she wants to. other royals are more than willing to suck up to her if it means a better deal for themselves, and her favor oftentimes means more than other royals in similar positions. as she can also obtain rarer materials and goods from the land, those who she favors are often presented with unique advantages over their competition. no agreements with the land happen without her oversight either, and if any land nation decides to open formal terms with the merkingdom, she is there to oversee it, even if miranda is the one representing the king and the crown.

[speakercrab666]

Hamilton is great for a musical about Hamilton, only problem is Hamilton is fucking boring. great musical, got all those good musical things in the bag, unbelievably ass subject matter. i'm sorry but i'm also right.

[deadlymaelstrom]

                  “I'm an excellent judge of character. I think you'll find my assessments to be right on the money.”

[anruraiocht]

Patty...was not fully aware of what exactly their relationship was. She saw Miranda as a friend, as someone she truly got along with-- but even she could see the way her fellow Princess glances in annoyance. Perhaps it was childish of her to believe that stubbornness could form a solid foundation for their friendship, but to be frank...Patty didn't care.

Something was so deeply wrong with Miranda-- at this point giving her a friend to lean on was the least she could do.

"Miranda!" Patty catches her in the hall as her last class ends, grabbing onto her arm before she can slink away. "I have a surprise for ya in my dorm, okay? So c'mon--" There's little chance to escape as Patty pulls her off to the dorms, too focused on getting there to ramble as she usually does.

She practically pushes Miranda into the dorm room, leaving her faced with a small cake for two and what seems to be a scarf not unlike the one Patty wears with the only difference being the colour. Instead of Patty's bright blue, the scarf on the bed is a dark green.

"I hope ya like it-- do ya know how much of a pain it was to find that exact shade?" She's practically beaming with pride, walking over to pick up the plate and offer a bite to Miranda. "Happy birthday, Miranda! I wasn't sure what kinda cake you'd like...so I hope just vanilla's okay!"

Birthdays have long since ceased to be happy days for the lone princess of Ulster. What once stood for happy days she spent with her family now stands as a marker of how much time had passed since tragedy had marred her heart. Conomor had done what he could to carve out time to visit on her birthdays, but both of them knew he was merely placing a bandage over a hemorrhaging wound.

A knight with his hands tied made for a poor replacement for a king and queen showering their affections on their beloved only daughter, after all.

Even after her kingdom had been returned to her, any well wishes she received carried an undercurrent of pressure regarding the passage of time. No one would dare to say it to her face, but she knew what those terse smiles really meant.

Yes, yes, Your Highness, it's great that you've survived another year. But really, shouldn't you have found a fiancé by now? Ulster's continued stability relies on your union with a strong partner! Have you considered Duke—

Suffice to say, Miranda does not have particularly positive feelings towards her birthday. Her plan was to get all of those half-hearted well wishes out of the way before continuing on with her day as usual.

What she receives is not a bland political congratulations, but a blonde girl crashing into her and all but abducting her.

Patty may be uncharacteristically silent, but Miranda screeches the whole way; "unhand me" and "what in the world do you think you're doing" and "how dare you treat a princess this way" are among the phrases piercing the ears of the students they pass by on the way to the dorms. She struggles like an unruly cat, but for her scrappy appearance, Patty is much stronger than she looks. The grip that pulls Miranda's hand is firm, even as she hisses and spits.

When Patty releases Miranda is the moment she stops struggling. It's not the absence of Patty's hand that makes her stop, however. It's the humble, but heartfelt scene laid out before her eyes. A scarf and cake aren't exactly grand gifts; certainly not like any of the gifts she has received in the past as awkward condolences for a life of strife. It's not the cold jewelry befitting a princess, but a warm scarf and a homemade cake.

Miranda's brow furrows as she accepts the plate, "I am not so ungrateful as to turn down a gift given to me in earnest! Just what kind of unruly person do you envision me to be?"

Meager as it may be, she can count on one hand the number of gifts she has received that are even half as sincere as this.

"...Thank you," she says quietly. "I do like vanilla."

[carefreeyounghag]

Gotta say, I def like the fanon version of Miranda Priestley better than the actual character in the movie

[theredquill]

MASTERPOST

meet the writer: mar ( they/them), you can also find me on @marsconer as this is just a sideblog for my asoiaf universe works. english is not my first language and you can find my works in portuguese in wattpad @littlesong_bird and my works in english on theredquill on ao3

currently working on: sound & fury ( hotd ) ; i now sit at a crossroad i ( roberts rebellion ) ; i now sit at crossroad ii ( asoiaf )

[ravenouswreckage]

"Keep speaking like thus and my solution shall be to sever each and every single one of those wires which allows you to move your lower body whilst keeping your pain sensitivity high."

[fullcfphobias-a]

Just full on FLOPS into Oz's lap. Don't mind the fact that they feel like a fish-cicle, Miri's just being tormented by the changing of the seasons again.

"Oop–"

Oz lifted the mug in their hand as she dropped into their lap, the other hovering beneath it just in case some spilled from the movement. It was typical during these seasons for Oz to be as chilly themself, body reflective of the temperature around it, but a pleasant warmth sat in its place.

"Hey, Miri!"

A set of arms branches from the full pair, wrapping around the princess. As they took another sip from the steaming mug, Miranda's proximity allowed her to practically feel the heat travel down and throughout while they drank. The faint aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg hung on them, and they tilted their head as they spoke to her.

"Cold getting you too, huh?"

[royalreef]

Difficult Person Test.

"This is a terrible, quote-unquote, 'test'! All it did was repeatedly ask me whether or not I am superior to others and deserve to be treated accordingly — which, yes, of course!! I am a princess, it is only appropriate!"

[chaosmultiverse]

☠️ for salil

Salil looked alarmed by the idea, his wing fluttering out and feathers spread making it look larger than it was.

"I- Why would I ever do that? I have sworn to do everything I can to protect monsters such as her, resorting to killing her would be a failure in every discipline and ideal I am meant to embody I..."

The smell of fish stew, and the feel of a gravel path and the sound of Miranda's... Intresting thoughts on his situation flashed in his mind. It wasn't just that it'd be a failure of some ideal, no... Like the other Mishra's he was very declawed towards hurting those he... Cared about.

"I mean if it were her or I guess the rest of monster kind I would... I don't know? I would use some painless poison, it'd..." the idea of Miranda dead at his hands had his face pale. "Be like..." Going to sleep.

"I... It would never come to that though, I... Miranda is not someone I would ever use my skills of a... Killer on."

He won't do it, to be simple and not dance around the issue as he was aloud, he did not have the will to kill Miranda, no matter the situation, really the only case where he'd do it would be to save Aaravi and it would tear him apart.

[mindsmade]

@afraidofchange / meme: propose, sender proposes to receiver.

The Pacific's waves are lapping at the shore. There's not a sound but the hiss of that water to be heard, apart from the occasional seagull squawking overhead. He sits in silence with Miranda at his side, on this beach that's finally been cleared of the rubble — of the aircraft panelling, pieces of armour torn from soldier's bodies, buildings torn apart and flung miles from their foundations, and who knows what types of organic waste.

Bodies. So many bodies — he should've been one of them, by rights.

But he isn't. He was pulled from a towering pile of that same type of rubble back in London himself months ago, hauled into a clinic and nursed back to health again. Somehow it feels no different being dragged back from the cusp of death than from its deepest reaches.

Well, almost no different. This time, he feels more at peace than he ever has. The galaxy lay in shambles upon his awakening, but it was in better condition than he left it in, somehow.

The same can be said for himself — and, again, at Miranda's hands. Though her involvement in his recovery didn't kick in till weeks after the Crucible's deployment, her influence was felt in every cybernetic holding his body together from the start.

He tries not to think of it too often, really, but it's pretty damned hard when his life is centred around his recovery, still. Even here, or perhaps especially here, with nothing to do but to bask and allegedly empty his mind, he struggles to keep his retrospection at bay.

Aiden sees her shift in the corner of his eye though, just to his right. His head turns to face her, to take in the wind tousling her hair, but all he winds up seeing truly are those deep blues peering right back at him for a good, long while.

Even the breakers seem quiet now.

And then Miranda isn't — quiet, that is. Her tone may be hushed, but the words it carries across hit him like a flashbang grenade. Intense at first, and then all turns to white. Not a moment later, the cogs in his head start spinning.

A proposal? The first thought that crosses his mind is a resounding yes, followed by the question whether he shouldn't have been doing the proposing. His delight ( a word he'd never think to apply to describe his mood with ) crushes his self-doubt in the blink of an eye though, and his face lights up from its original astonishment no later.

❛  You're serious? I mean,  ❜ he shifts in the sand, scrambling to kneel beside her crossed legs. It's not as quick and as fluent a movement as it would've been before the thorough beating he took all those months ago, but he manages.

He cleans the sand off his palms on his shorts before taking her face between both hands. ❛  There's not a single person alive I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, Lawson.  ❜ Towards her he leans, simultaneously pulling her in for a smile-tinged kiss.

It's in that moment of contact that his unadulterated joy makes punctures his composure in a more confound way. He's not about to cry, but he could. He's touched to profound enough an extent that he's afraid of just what his expression might betray if he pulls back too far. But he's no coward, and if anyone's permitted to see past the stoic helmet he always wear, it's Miranda.

So he pulls back, just far enough for his eyes to be able to focus on hers. ❛  Sure know how to keep me on my toes, Miranda ... You about ready for happily ever after?  ❜

[formshaper]

♦ hmm... flint for miranda?

"Grief."

she isn't dead yet, this is important: this is before. this is when she is alive and he is alive and still they both live like ghosts. one bound to the sea, the other to land. they meet for only days at a time and part again, and every time, james feels their old life slipping further and further away.

thomas' death hangs over them both, always. miranda tries, sometimes, to talk about him, to share her grief and to alleviate his, and james--

he just can't.