#Miranda tag

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

Can we please just take a moment to stare at the incredible art of Daemon and Sabitha that @aegonx commissioned for me from @lonelymagpies because I am genuinely losing my mind over how beautiful this is. It's absolutely perfect and completely in line with how I see my love sick, war torn babies. The yearning, the longing, the outfits. And the hand size difference oh my god. I will never recover from this.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Perspective Flip from the fic ask game for Sins of the Father?

Finished up chapter 20, took a brain break for a few days, & then cranked this out in a single day. It being a rehash of an event I already wrote helped. Hope you enjoy seeing part of the wedding from chapter 13 of SOTF

Shireen leaned into Yorick as she held onto his arm so that she would not fall behind him as she gawked at Runestone’s great hall. Food was piled high on the tables that lined the open expanse of the tiled floor, fires blazed in braziers and in the great hearth behind the dais, and banners for Houses Baratheon and Targaryen had been hung alongside those with the runes of House Royce. An extra table had been pushed up against the high table on the dais, making it long enough to accommodate all the guests of honor who had come for the wedding. Her parents were up the two steps first, going to the far left end of the table as she and Yorick followed them. Lady Royce and the prince, as well as the adult members of House Targaryen, came to the high table behind them to all take their places at the center and right end of the tables. Yorick helped Shireen to take the heavy, bronze and black cloak from about her shoulders, and then pulled her chair out for her. She smiled at him, big and bright with her lips parted, and took her seat. She was too excited to be as demure as she wanted. Even if it was just their wedding day, even if they had only been looking at each other with want for two months, Yorick was going above and beyond to meet the standards she hadn't even put voice to. Shireen’s eyes darted towards her parents, their clasped hands propped on the table between them as Lord Boremund idly stroked his wife's thumb with his own.

She turned her gaze back to Yorick as she heard him shifting next to her, leaning forward to look around his mother at the princess and the queen. She leaned forward as well, returning Alicent’s small wave she did. Rhaenyra's lavender eyes flicked towards Shireen for only a moment, and she leaned back in her chair, disappearing from view behind Alicent and the men. Shireen's smile faltered for the first time that day since she'd finished getting ready that morning and begun the procession to the sept, and she leaned back in her chair as well.

“I don't understand, Rhaenyra liked me before.”

“My cousin is…I don't even know,” Yorick sounded weary, as if this were just some new addition to a long list of regular events he was tired of, “she has been odd about our marriage ever since mother announced it formally.” Princess Rhaenyra had been in a mood about much lately it would seem; more so than was usual for a Targaryen. She could not blame her, she supposed. A brother being born after she had been named heir and all the lords of the realm having to swear themselves to her, the mother of that boy being Alicent of all people. Shireen would not be pleasant either.

Her mind swam with images of the two girls in Storm’s End’s gardens, flower crowns on their heads as Rhaenyra pressed her lips to Alicent’s, and with recollections of her spat with Ella five months ago when overheard snippets of complaints were taken as a personal slight independent of their source. “Maybe I should talk to her. She was odd about Ella at Aegon’s name day hunt, but she seemed fine after they talked in Ella and Alyssa's tent. Perhaps…perhaps she has just worked herself into some kind of conviction about some way I did ill by her while she was not looking.”

“I could speak to her with you, if you like. I've gotten quite good at smoothing things over with her.”

“Oh! Um, no, that is fine. I think it would be best if it was worked through between women. Your offer is very kind though.” Yorick couldn’t be there. She couldn’t accidentally do what Princess Rhaenyra had potentially convinced herself happened while talking her down from thinking she’d told someone. Because that had to be it, right? What else could she possibly think Shireen had done?

“What kind of husband would I be if I did not offer to help my wife with things that trouble her?” He asked. Shireen smiled again, giddy with barely held back giggles, and took his hand in hers. She leaned into Yorick again, and kissed his cheek. When she pulled back there was color on his cheeks, and a smile pulling up the corners of his bow shaped lips.

“A different husband than the one I got.”

The feast was a haze of rich food and strong smells and the spiced wine her uncles brought from Pentos. Servants came and went, filling plates and goblets, as speeches were given and songs drifted down from the gallery over the great hall. Ella came up to the dais at one point, coming to talk to Yorick and Shireen before she was replaced with Borros and Elenda, who in turn were replaced with a seemingly never ending exchange of Uncle Vararo, Maroquo, Yorick’s cousins, Rhaenys, Laena, and finally Uncle Lysillos and Aunt Velysa.

His time before the high table was one of the few times Magister Lysillos Hotin of Pentos allowed himself to overtly boast. He would not turn down the opportunity to point out the barrels of spiced wine and boxes of saffron, the volume of the floral smelling spice so high that it had stained the skin of the multiple roasted capon cooked with it yellow, had come from him and his family–not in front of the King of Westeros.

By the time the pie was brought out, all Yorick could do was pick at a crumbling and mostly untouched almond cake set on a plate between him and Shireen. He got up first, and he helped her to ease her chair away from the table. Shireen clung to Yorick’s arm as they stepped down from the dais, the eyes of the hall packed full of nobles following their walk to where a squire waited with the sword for them to use to cut the pie.

Her hold shifted from his arm to the short cape hanging diagonally from his left shoulder. The sword looked so natural in Yorick’s hands, and Shireen bit into her plump lower lip as he swung it down into the pie. Over a dozen skylarks, now freed from their prison of crust, flew away, but she didn’t watch where they went. The only thing that mattered to look at was Yorick. Tall, elegant featured, knightly Ser Yorick. With this final bit of ceremony before the bedding, the wedding felt so much more complete and if she was not so full from the, perhaps overabundant, offerings from the feast Shireen would have happily snuck off with him to his apartments long before they were supposed to.

She turned back towards the dais with Yorick, but Shireen could only look at him as Lady Rhea made the final speech of the wedding before the opening notes for an almain drifted down from the gallery. Chairs scraped against the bronze, black, and green tiles as other noble guests moved to join them, and Uncle Vararo was already heading to the dais when Yorick pulled her attention again and began leading her through their first married dance.

He was not quite as good as he had been when he was a boy, but Yorick was not bad either. Their dance very well could have been like something from a story if Ella had not made a face at him as she swept past with her betrothed. Yorick scrunched his face, returning her playful rudeness with his own. Shireen laughed at them, and her husband's gaze fell to her again.

Yorick’s eyes, an uncannily bright purple, stayed on her through the last few turns of the dance and as he took both her hands and lifted them to his lips to kiss her knuckles. Her gaze fell from his, it was too overwhelming to continue to hold, and her teeth worried with her lower lip again. Shireen's face felt warm, and she considered suggesting they find a way to leave early, but before she could talk herself into one decision or the other their attention was being called for again.

“Yorick, Lady Shireen.”

Yorick stiffened at his father’s presence, and he did not even bother to hide his contempt, glaring at him as he spoke. “Is there something you needed, father?”

“I would have the next dance with my son’s new wife. If I may be allowed.” There was a teasing edge to his voice, and a lopsided smile on his face as he responded.  Prince Daemon’s eyes, so similar to Yorick’s, shifted from him to Shireen and he seemed to relax ever so slightly as he looked away from his oldest son.

She didn’t know what to make of Yorick’s father, he was more story than true man to her. They had barely interacted in the handful of times they had been in the same location, and why would they have? She was little more than his very young, fairly distant, cousin for so long. Yorick did not like him though, that much she was sure of.

“You honor me with your offer, my prince.” Shireen said simply, bowing her head as she did. That was all Prince Daemon needed, apparently, extending his hand for her to take as he subtly inclined his head towards a part of the open floor further away. She smiled, soft and unsure of herself, and placed her fingertips on her good father’s upturned palm.

He led her further into the crowd of dancers just like that, neither of them daring to move more than was necessary until the music swelled once more. His hand was warm when she pressed her palm against his, and calloused from years of sword fighting and ill-advised gloveless flights on dragonback. It wasn’t dissimilar to Yorick or her brother or her own father, but it felt like it should be. The silence was full, like it was waiting to be pierced with a sword for birds to fly out of like the wedding pie. Or maybe fire, or dozens of tiny dragons would be more apt for a Targaryen.

“Tell me about Yorick.” He spoke sooner than Shireen had thought he would, but even if Prince Daemon had waited through most of the dance his words would have caught her off guard.

“He is your son.”

“Humor me.”

This felt like a test. What could he do if she failed, though? She and Yorick were already married. And how could she fail? They had known each other since she was nine. “Yorick is…thoughtful. About everything–other people’s feelings, their actions, what they may be thinking. His dragon, both the good and bad, about every way a situation could go. About his own duties, about how he must be careful with people. He fears himself, I think.”

Prince Daemon scoffed, his smile growing bemused. It was so much like Ella’s. “Himself?”

“He was claimed by a dragon everyone has always feared, that eats its own–who would not feel unease at whatever in them drew him to them?”

“Do you fear whatever that is?” His eyes bored into her, intense and probing. Shireen forced herself to hold the prince’s gaze.

“He was kind to The Cannibal, he respected him. Why would I fear that?” She did not fear whatever darkness Yorick had convinced himself was there either. She could never be scared of him; he was too thoughtful and careful, too deliberately gentle. He probably could hurt her if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. That was not Yorick’s character.

Prince Daemon’s eyes were still searching, but some of the intensity was gone. Her soul was not being peeled away layer by layer and inspected now. “He is angry, you know.”

“Not with me.” Shireen was kind to him, she respected him. What reason did he have to lash out at that?

“Yorick is happy, isn’t he?”

“He is.”

He was silent again at that, remaining so through the final few steps of the dance. Shireen felt awkward as she let her arm fall to her side, unsure of if he would say anything else or would simply walk away to stew in whatever verdict he’d reached on her answers. She almost opened her mouth to speak, just to fill the silence, but words finally found the prince again.

“Good. My son should have some happiness in his marriage.”

Shireen ached to say something, but what exactly escaped her. Prince Daemon hated his own marriage, Yorick disliked his father but his father did not dislike him, she did not think the prince disliked her…although maybe he had wanted to. There were so many things that should be fixed, and maybe could be, but many more that probably could not.

“Lady Shireen.” He nodded to her, and turned on his heel to stalk further into the great hall. Even tall and white haired like Yorick, Prince Daemon seemed to disappear into the throng, unable to be found again. Although she did not look for him terribly hard. Shireen could not find Princess Rhaenyra to try to speak to her privately either, and she tried much harder to find her.

[emilykaldwen]

83, 84, 88 and 97 for the ask game 💕

Thank you Miranda!!!

Fic Writer Ask Game!

83. less is more or more is more?

I'm of the opinion less is more because too much becomes too much for your reader to process and then they start to skim/zone out. Like I tap out on my chapters at 11k at most because anything past that, your readers start to forget what's happened in the beginning of the chapter, or if there's a lot happening, the emotional impact gets lost.

84. said: overused or underused?

I think underused. Said is a perfectly fine word, embrace it. Instead of lamenting about using 'said' too much and needing to change it, focus on facial expressions. for example Gwayne frowned, eyes narrowed. "Do you really think that would work?" he said. You can even drop the 'he said' bit if you wanted.

88. if you could have another author write your wip for you (bc we all dream of this occasionally), who would it be?

I have on occasion begged @vampire-exgirlfriend and @selfproclaimedunicorn to write for me when I was losing my mind. Instead, they have guided and supported me in their own ways. Alex is the engine of Maiden, keeping me going, and Misa is the total best cheerleader.

97. abstract or detailed romance scenes?

I think I tend to write more abstract scenes? That is, I don't care for romance scenes that are overly descriptive in terms of action, I much prefer the thoughts and emotions behind what's happening.

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

@pennyserenade i take back what i've said about that mole rat of a man you like, they put any man in all black with a leather jacket and i'm down instantly

[madisoncounty]

thinking about this perfect intersection of my interests and @sexymeangirlsobc's interests

[cregan-starks]

Send to 10 other bloggers you think are wonderful. Keep this going to make someone smile! Add a heart so we know how long the chain's been going! 💙💜🩷💛

Thank you so much, my darling!! 🥺🫶🏻

[lady-morrigen]

eros 1 and agape 4 for the ask game? <33

hello, my darling! i'm so happy you asked!

Eros #1 - Is your OC romantic in the traditional sense? Do they enjoy giving or receiving gifts of flowers or confectionary? Or are there other courtship traditions from their culture of origin that are important to them?

I'm going to answer this for Allana! She was once a romantic, as a young girl. She took many walks through the gardens with Lady Rowan, her first love. However, in her grief, she has turned away from the idea of romance and instead knows that her duty is to wed for political gain. Being from Highgarden, she obviously loves flowers! Yet, she can be difficult to impress as her expectations are high. She likes to be gifted beautiful things. Dresses, exquisite satin slippers, jewels, etc. She has given romantic gifts a sort of transactional lens, as she doesn't believe that a love match is in the cards for her.

Agape #4 - Does your OC have a religious faith which emphasises the importance of a love for all people? If so then do they try to follow these teachings authentically? Or do they just pay lip-service to them? If not then do they follow a more martial or mercantile faith? Or none at all?

And this one shall be for Victaria, my newest babe! As she is from House Cuy, a vassal of House Hightower, she (like most of Westeros, save for the North/Iron Islands) follows the faith of The Seven. Though she prays to The Maiden most often, she has found herself praying repeatedly to The Warrior to keep her handsome knight safe. Given how close she is to Oldtown and the Starry Sept, her devotion is true. She is not without sin, often caving to sins of the flesh, but she does her best to remain as pious as possible.

OC Questions on the Seven Forms of Love

[huramuna]

If you received this you are a great mutual 🫂 Send this to 10 of your mutuals to spread love 🤍🤍🤍

😭😭😭 right back at you my love!

[starlitsunday]

she came over to me halfway thru the second pic

our sheet is off because she frew up on it

[whimsyprinx]

our beautiful sky + bread of sandwich <3 <3 <3

soooo true

I keep forgetting i reblogged this

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

over & over resident evil animation

yt link

[vampire-exgirlfriend]

Osferth and Brynja from As It Was by @moris-auri - for Miranda, whose stories deserve to be told.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

⭐ for the ask <3

Gonna talk about my boy Aemon & Silverwing, specifically in the chapters for his first POV (Things Fall Apart, & We Remember)

Silverwing was meant for him. Ella said so all the time, and even his princely father had mentioned it! If no one was going to take him to her before the winter snows came, then he would just have to claim her alone. Like in the stories that mandia told him about when she had claimed Vermithor.

- Things Fall Apart, Aemon 1A

So that's the whole thing there: Aemon was born to claim Silverwing. He's been excited about dragons for as long as he can remember because "well, I specificially am supposed to have Silverwing. Everyone says so!"

Aemon is 7 by the time these chapters roll around, which is about the age he's heard about his cousins (Rhaenyra & Laenor) claiming their dragons, & circumstances keep popping up that see his being brought into the mountains to claim her being delayed. His older brother gets married, his dad gets put on Runestone House Arrest for some sort of shenanigans at the wedding, his sister-in-law gets pregnant, its late autumn & they have to get ready to move out of the way of the coming snows, his cousins Willam & Yarwyck are both having weddings planned--he very much thinks everyone is forgetting about him. So naturally, this means he has to take matters into his own hands. And this taking matters into his own hands is, unfortunately, how he's in the right place at the right time to see his mom get murdered.

It can be hard to notice, especially when Aemon has been a little hater from day 1, but he's got as much of their dad in him as Ella has. His "I need to concoct an elaborate but believable lie & then run off into the mountains on my own in order to get what I want/deserve" was 100% premeditated. It wasn't a great plan & there were easier ways to do this (see: tell literally anyone his concerns & they'll bring him to go claim Silverwing), but it was premeditated. It also fully hinged on everyone being so impressed with him that they ignored him lying & being an unsupervised 7-year-old to keep him from getting in trouble. Daemon Targaryen, you are the father.

Aemon is going to be fully, 1000000% on board for his big sister's shenanigans in the current WIP chapter. Sibling Gremlin Time

“Sōvēs!” She trilled, high and clear and more at peace than the first time Aemon heard her that day, and gracefully pulled herself into the air. He yelled as he leaned so forward in the saddle that the horns dug into his chest. Aemon winced, and then sat back up. He had expected the buildup and the heavy drag from Vermithor, but now that he was up here he wouldn’t trade any part of the experience for the world. Silverwing was faster than Vermithor in every sense, and she was everything and more than what he’d dreamt about in all the years he’d been waiting for this moment. Aemon started laughing, uncontrollable and giddy.

- We Remember, Aemon 1B

At this particular point in the story, Ella has flown off on Vermithor to locals unknown & Silverwing is being emo about her missing husband. But then here comes the little boy who's loved her his whole life & comes to see her (under the supervision of dragon keepers) & whispers to her about how they're best friends (she's not gonna fight it, he's very polite) & he's doing the whole claiming song-and-dance. And even for her it's correct. Like "yes, this is my personal little boy. He is sad right now & he needs me because he said we are best friends & I haven't had one of those since Alyssane. The time for us to be a unit is now, the planets are finally in correct alignment for me to have a new rider." (What can I say, Silverwing likes them slightly pathetic)

Silverwing has known Aemon since he was a baby & he claims her when he's a mourning 7-year-old, so she's his dragon mom now. And they don't fill the hole left by the ones they're missing (his mom for Aemon & her mate for Silverwing), but the hole isn't as deep anymore. And even when Ella comes back with Vermithor & they're eventually able to be in the same place again, Silverwing is still dragon mom, because that's her boy.

[emilykaldwen]

OH MY GOD MIRANDA ITS SO CUTE HOLY SHIT THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

@pennyserenade come get your rat out of my pinterest home page

[madisoncounty]

this is how i found out she was at the met btw @sexymeangirlsobc