#Warg behavior. WARG BEHAVIOR.

[not-glorfindel-stop-asking]

Lindir, you’ve gotta have some sweet Eredin stories! What’s the most heart-melting thing he’s done for you?

Ah. Ah.

You ask for one story, but do you realize what you request?

How does one select a single moment when Eredin exists in a constant state of being utterly, unbearably sweet? It is an impossible task. I might as well be asked to count the stars or catalog every leaf in the valley.

But fine. Since you insist-

There was a day—years ago now, when Eredin was still new to the archives, still skittish as a fawn, still prone to clutching his quill like a lifeline whenever spoken to directly. I had been ill—nothing dramatic, nothing worthy of great concern, but enough to make my head foggy and my limbs sluggish. Enough that Elrond, in all his wisdom, had exiled me from my own duties and ordered me to rest. (A ridiculous command, truly. I was perfectly capable of continuing my work, and I told him as much. He responded by confiscating my writing implements and setting Glorfindel to watch me, which was an insult I shall never forget.)

Eredin, of course, took this matter with the utmost gravity.

It was as if my mild cold were a grave diplomatic incident requiring delicate maneuvering and constant vigilance. He did not say he was checking in on me—no, he simply appeared.

At first, it was small things: a cup of warm cocoa left within reach when I woke, an extra pillow subtly tucked behind my back, a thick woolen blanket I do not own but somehow acquired draped over my shoulders. I was suspicious.

Rightfully so.

And then—oh. Then.

The moment I will never forget.

One evening, as I pretended to be sleeping (so that Glorfindel would leave), I heard rustling near my bedside. A soft clink. The faintest murmur of words, barely audible. I cracked one eye open.

There was Eredin. My absurd, absurd assistant, kneeling beside my bed, arranging—arranging, with the most careful, studious expression—an assortment of small trinkets beside me. A smooth river stone. A tiny carved owl. A pressed leaf, golden with autumn. A minuscule, perfect pinecone.

I stared. He froze.

"Lindir!" he squeaked, voice pitching high enough to make the Valar wince. "You—oh, you’re awake, I didn’t—um, I was only—this is not what it looks like!"

"...What," I croaked, "does it look like?"

He turned a color so vivid I feared he might combust on the spot.

"You were unwell," he blurted. "And when someone is unwell, you bring them things! That’s what you do!"

"Things," I repeated.

He nodded frantically, hands flapping like a startled bird. "Yes! Things! Small things! Comforting things! I—I read about it once, somewhere, I think it was a book about warg behavior—but that is not important!"

And so I learned that in his worry, in his fervent desire to do something, my dear, ridiculous Eredin had apparently researched creatures in the wild and decided that surely the best course of action was to mimic them. Because if wolves and crows and all manner of beasts brought gifts to those they cared for, why should he not do the same?

I was stunned. I was speechless. I wanted to scream.

Instead, I picked up the small carved owl, turned it over in my palm, and said, very carefully, very softly, "Thank you, Eredin. I will treasure it."

And oh. Oh. You should have seen him.

His breath hitched. His eyes went impossibly wide. And then—oh, then—the most radiant, disastrously lovely smile broke across his face. A smile so full of pure, unguarded joy that I almost had to look away.

He fled before I could say anything else.

(And yes. Yes, I still have the owl. And the stone. And the leaf. And the pinecone. I keep them in a small wooden box, tucked safely away. Not that it is important. Not that it means anything.)

[play-now-my-lord]

My pet theory is that Lowtax's soul warged into Elon Musk's body at the moment of his death and is bored of Musk's life and actively trying to kill him, but every self-destructive behavior the relatively low-rent Lowtax's restless ghost can think of is simply rewarded by society when you're absurdly rich

[numenoria]

The Rings of Power Season 1 Ep 1-4 thoughts/observations/commentary ✨

EP1:

RIP Finrod 😥

Galadriel is a badass consumed by vengeance. I'm sure this WILL NOT come back to bite her.

Galadriel girl you're on your own!!

Young Elrond's hair is quite interesting...

Your honor, I'm convinced this Gil-Galad person wants to fuck Elrond

Evidence:

Arondir the beautiful elf that you are!

Bronwyn is gorgeous and level-headed.

Lil boy put that evil trinket back where it came from oh so help me!!!

These proto-hobbits are adorable and scruffy. I like Nori, she's spunky. I wasn't feeling the Hartfoots hair choices at first but it grew on me.

Galadriel being literally shipped off. Yeah this is def a coverup for something

The blond masc elf REALLY wants Galadriel to stay on the boat

Galadriel: 🤸🏻‍♀️🌊

Who the fuck just fell from the sky?? Naked??

EP2:

Nori is definitely a "run towards the danger" kind of gal

Is that GANDALF?? It's Gandalf right?

Feanor mention!! Simarils?? 👀

"True creation requires sacrifice" Yeah that's not the last time we're going to hear that phrase.

I've been saying Celebrimbor's name wrong this entire time. 😶

YAY Dwarves!!

Elrond is besties with a Dwarf! Durin IV?

Durin why are you showing out!? Elrond just wants to say hi :(

Oh...

20 years!!? Elrond you missed his wedding and the birth of his babies?? I'd show out too!! Trash friend behavior!

Disa! The dwarf queen that you are! She's so inviting and warm. OMG her hair is gorgeous! Durin IV I will fight you for her hand in marriage!

I haaateeee Durin's Hair/Beard combo. They lowkey did him dirty imo.

Why are these people on this raft?? Galadriel do not trust that man!

I'm not sold on the Halbrand thirst yet..

ORCS UNDER THE HOUSE??

I bet yall believe Bronwyn now!

Bro killed the Fireflies oop :(

EP3:

The Elves are slaves?? prisoners?? I don't like this

Who is Adar??

Galadriel and Halbrand are on a bigger boat.

Elendir you ruggedly handsome man. The genes are strong in that bloodline.

Numenor is breathtaking.

These people do not like elves

Galadriel does not know how to talk to people

Queen Tar-Miriel *I AM LOOKING RESPECFULLY*

I thought Pharazon was being played by Jack Black. Like a cleaned up Jack Black. I'm Sorry to both actors.

The Numenorians are very stylish.

Isildur??

Oh no he's dissociating at sea (trauma perhaps?)

I prefer look of these orcs over PJ's orcs.

Some losers are interrogating Halbrand.

Oh shit these guys are about to get curbed stomped to hell!

Halbrand's locked up

OH NO HE'S HOT!!

Evidence:

Why did he look at her like that??? . They def have some simmering sexual tension

"I am not the hero you seek." FORESHADOWING!! Galadriel do not trust this man!

An unsuccessful Elf rebellion. Arondir was giving action hero vibes

Wtf is that?? A warg? An orc dog??

Blurry Adar

EP4:

Miriel holding a baby. She loves her people

It was all a dream

Pharazar is plotting something!! He's very much a Brutus type.

Arondir meets Adar

I am slightly turned on and disgusted

Theo is attached to the evil trinket almost bound to it...

Arondir saves the Theo (I think that's his son?? But they don't know it yet)

Disa is a bad liar 😂

MIthril???

Galadriel locked up.

Halbrand teaching Galadriel about playing mind games. Yeah girl don't trust him!

Galadriel is free

Miriel and Galadriel bond. Do people ship them? Should I ship them? 🤔

The King's health is failing. Poor Miriel.

A Palantir? That's not good. Six more? Like dragon balls?

The crystal nerd in me thinks the Palantir is composed of lapis lazuli (the stone of visions/psychic powers)

Galadriel's getting the boot from Numenor

Arondir to Theo's rescue!

The orcs are ashy and they hate the sun

Disa you better sang to those rocks!!

This scene was very touching.

I love Dwarves!

Durin/Disa/Elrond warms my heart

The Dwarf King knows something is up

Theo do not trust that creepy old man.

Sir unhand that boy! 🔪

The darkness has consumed this old man

Galadriel is shipped off again!

The petals of the White Tree fall.

Galadriel is back w/Queen Miriel's support

Me thinks the people will not take this well

Overall the show is visually pleasing (aside from some styling choices). The cast is strong and very talented. The music is excellent. There's a lot of characters being introduced but that's typical of anything Tolkien related. Thanks for getting this far! I'll continue episodes 5-8 in a separate post ✨🩷

-Davi ☽︎♡︎☾︎

Edit: Not sure what happened, but NONE of the pics/memes I put in the post saved on tumblr mobile! I edited it on desktop so they should show up now. ^^

[lavalais76]

You all remember this scene, when Sansa begs for her father's life, and just as they are chopping Ned's head off, Sansa Stark passes out.... I'm starting to wonder if some type of magic was at play here. Some type of "Warging magic?" Where did Sansa go? Where did Ned go? Sansa have other dreams and blackouts too. Many "Sansa Haters" blame her behavior on trauma, and sure, there is some trauma but something else is also at play concerning Sansa. They also love to say she has absolutely ZERO magic because she got her wolf killed and she is no longer a Stark.

I say there is waayyyy more to Sansa Stark than meet the eye. Martin says that ALL the Stark children are WARGS. Sansa even visits the underworld (or the world of Ghost, Jon's direwolf) when she is in the Vale. She remembers a kiss that we all know never happened and "SanSan shippers" say it's foreshadowing for the "false beast" Sandor Clegane. (WHATEVERRR) I say it's Jon Snow (real BEAST) and this kiss is something Sansa has already seen in the future. Jon's face isn't burned, but we all know how bad that eagle clawed one side of his face and I'm not talking about Kit Harington's cute little scar. The books describe it much more intense and a bit gruesome.

Sansa Stark has seen her children too. Her boys (whom she named) and the girl specifically that looks like Arya. Arya looks like Jon, so Yes.... Sansa is definitely a warg and possibly have greendreams.

[maul-of-shame]

Short interlude in between exercises/exams to share—for the STILL not believing people—that there is actual beef against Elrondriel shippers. (TW: language)

Because apparently, some of y’all still think we’re making it up (just like this stupid anon recently), still think we’re “imagining” the weird little jabs and passive-aggressive nonsense. So let’s take a moment to break down this absolutely pathetic comment I got today:

"Congrats on writing 25% of ALL Elrond/Galadriel fics on AO3! Where and what would this 'ship even be without you?"

First of all—was that supposed to be a compliment or was the sarcasm just so heavy it collapsed under its own weight? Because if you were trying to be shady, bestie, you fumbled it hard. This is the kind of condescending nonsense that just screams insecurity. You’re acting like I sit here cackling at my alleged AO3 domination, rubbing my hands together as I crush smaller authors beneath my mighty fic empire. Do you hear how absurd that sounds?

Let me make this crystal clear: I don’t write to “compete”. I don’t write to be “number one”.

I don’t give a flying Warg’s ass about statistics.

I write because I love this ship. I love to ramble, share ideas, and create things with people who enjoy the same dynamic. That’s it. That’s the entire point. Turning this into some weird contest or acting like my presence in a small ship’s tag is some kind of threat is so nasty, and frankly, a you problem.

The worst part? The implication that Elrondriel somehow wouldn’t “exist” without me—as if the only reason people are shipping it is because I dared to post. People like what they like.

They don’t need permission or a fanwork quota to do it!

The fact that this person felt the need to comment this at all just proves how weirdly obsessive some people are about trying to diminish Elrondriel whenever and wherever they can. It’s not enough for them to dislike it, they need to make sure we know they dislike it!

And then there’s the unspoken other message in this—this little attempt at shaming me into stopping. Because what, exactly? Because I write a lot? Because content isn’t being produced at some imaginary “acceptable” speed? Because they think I’m somehow monopolizing a ship, as if fandom is some bizarre economy where only one person at a time can contribute? Are you hearing how ridiculous that sounds? Do you hear how fucking unhinged it is to act like me posting my fics is somehow gatekeeping a ship from other people?

The actual reality is that Elrondriel has so many incredible, talented creators—artists, writers, editors, gif-makers, meta-writers—who are constantly putting out gorgeous content, and the fact that I happen to be active doesn’t take away from their work. If anything, it adds to the momentum of the fandom. But this? This right here?

This is exactly the kind of behavior that makes people afraid to post their content. That makes people feel like they don’t belong in a space where they should feel free to create and share what they love.

Because apparently, in the eyes of people like this, there’s some invisible limit to how much content is allowed before it becomes a problem.

And I am so fucking tired of it. I am tired of the weird, obsessive nitpicking. I am tired of the bad-faith nonsense. I am tired of people treating fanworks like some kind of competitive sport where they get to decide who is “allowed” to contribute and how much. And most of all? I am tired of the pathetic attempts to make me or anyone else feel like we should stop creating because of some bitter little fandom police who can’t stand the fact that people are having fun without them.

Guess what? I’m not going anywhere. I will keep writing. I will keep posting. I will keep creating and sharing and doing what I love, because that’s what fandom is actually supposed to be about. And if that makes you seethe? If that makes you spiral into weird little rants in my inbox? Well seethe away. I don't give a shit if it makes you uncomfortable. I do not have to make you comfortable on my blog, in my space.

I don’t need to prove myself. I don’t need to prove my value. I don’t need to justify why I create, how much I create, or what I create.

I’m not saying all this to shower myself in praise, because that’s not me. I don’t need to sit here and scream “look at me, look at what I’ve done!” to feel validated. But let’s be real for a second—I know what I bring to the table.

I know I’m fucking capable. I know I have talent. I know my strengths, I know my weaknesses, and I know exactly what I’m worth as a writer, as a creator, and as a person in this fandom.

And no amount of bitter, passive-aggressive bullshit is going to change that.

The way some of you act, you’d think the mere existence of my content was some kind of crime. As if writing and sharing stories—something we’re all supposedly here to do—suddenly becomes a problem when I do it. And why? Because I’m too consistent? Because I actually finish things? Because I don’t hide in a corner, apologizing for daring to enjoy what I enjoy? That’s what really gets to you, isn’t it? The fact that I refuse to shrink for the comfort of people who don’t even respect me in the first place.

And the fact that people keep trying to fucking silence me over fictional content is actually fucking wild.

Like, let’s all take a deep breath and actually grasp the reality here: this is about a ship in a fantasy story. A ship that exists alongside hundreds of others, a ship that people have every right to enjoy, just like any other. And yet, for some reason, some of you are so threatened by the mere existence of Elrondriel content that you’ve made it your weird little mission to poke, prod, guilt, and manipulate creators into shutting up.

And I see it for exactly what it is. This isn’t about “concern,” this isn’t about “balance,” and this sure as hell isn’t about “fandom fairness.” This is about control. This is about people who can’t fucking stand the idea that someone is enjoying something they personally don’t like, so they resort to passive-aggressive, bad-faith nonsense to try and make that enjoyment feel wrong. The gaslighting, the guilt-tripping, the implication that “you’re taking up too much space”—as if there’s some fandom quota that’s being selfishly hoarded by one person. As if me writing means someone else can’t. Like, are we serious? Is this the level of absurdity we’ve reached?

I’ve seen this before. This exact behavior. This isn’t new, it isn’t clever, and it sure as hell isn’t subtle. I know what it looks like when people are trying to guilt creators into disappearing. I know what it looks like when people want to punish others for simply existing in a space they don’t think they should be in. And I am not falling for it. I am not playing into it. I am not going to sit here and entertain the idea that I need to “prove” my right to be here. I am here. I’m writing. I’m creating. And that is not up for debate.

So yeah, if you ever wonder why some Elrondriel shippers talk about the constant little digs, the bad faith arguments, the condescension?

This. This right here is why.

Because it’s not just “oh I don’t like that ship, moving on.” It’s the compulsive need to let us know. It’s the snide comments, the twisting of reality, the absolute refusal to let people enjoy what they enjoy without making it a thing.

I ain’t going nowhere, dear "E."

Scowl all you want, grit your teeth, type up your little bitter complaints—hell, write a whole damn essay about how deeply offended you are by my mere existence. It won’t change a thing. I’ll still be here, still writing, still creating, still thriving, while you sit there, wasting your time seething over fanfiction.

And you know what? I hope you choke on my works and words.

I hope every single fic, every single post, every single scrap of content I put out lodges itself so deep in your mind that you can’t escape it.

I hope it haunts you, lingers in the back of your thoughts every time you try to scroll past. And maybe—just maybe—one day you’ll miraculously realize just how much of a buffoon you sound like. Until then? Enjoy your misery.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 23

And now we finally move on to the final battle with the Red Dragon.

The chapter opens up by narrating the sensation the castle town gives. It's been sealed away for 1,000 years, yet it feels as if the town had been inhabited until only recently.

Thinking back, this floor and the third floor both were in excellent condition. There was no vegetation growth or plant roots in them. This floor is under a water level, so that means something is containing the water in that level.

More of those winged lion statues.

For a moment, I thought the party split up to investigate the town because there were a few panels wit only Marcille and Senshi in shots and other panels with only Laios and Chilchuck.

No. Laios and Chilchuck were just covered by a text box. Their formation is Laios in the front, followed by Chilchuck, then Marcille, then Senshi.

The larder was most likely raided by wargs which ate only the meat in the larder. They seem to have knocked over some cheese while at it.

It's not really possible to tell the passage of time since the dungeon is underground but I can estimate a few things based on long rests.

After meeting the orcs in chapter 9, the next time the party sleeps is chapter 13, so I'd guess chapters 10-13 are all one "day". The next time the party sleeps is chapter 16. The incident with the undine likely set them back by a day and Chilchuck said it would take two days to reach the dragon back in chapter 18.

All of this is me trying to guess how old that blood stain in the larder might be. The orcs would have evacuated at least a week ago so I guess it's a reasonable amount of time for any meat the orcs were storing to not rot and for wargs to eat and leave bloodstains.

Now that I think about it, how did Senshi do business with the orcs beofrehand? He said he mostly travels between the second and fourth floors and the passage to the orc village is through a stairwell covered in tentacles and requires traveling through a lake.

Eyeballs will boil and melt under extreme heat. That's why the warg corpses don't have eyes.

Everything building up to the dragon encounter keeps reinforcing that the party is not ready to face this dragon. It really doesn't help that their previous strategies relied heavily on Falin and Shuro.

Shuro is blushing when Falin casts a ward on Laios. Meanwhile, Marcille seems annoyed at him crushing on Falin.

Namari always seems to get into the most danger and is the most gung-ho to fight monsters in every flashback. That encounter with the red dragon really changed her outlook things. Her chat with Kiki and Kaka last chapter was her speaking about her own of recklessness and near-permanent-death experience.

My guess on the inverse scale: It's where the dragon expels gas for its fire breath. It doesn't have scales at that point because it needs to expand when gas builds up.

How did Laios not connect that the damage to the corridor was likely from the dragon? He even pointed out that the dragon was about as tall as it.

Laios is tossing around some good questions about the dragon's behavior. It's very active and it's on a floor with a geometry it doesn't like. It's probably related to all the talks about how the dungeon is starting to change. Worst case, there's something even stronger below that has forced the dragon to a higher level.

Namari said adamantine can stop dragon FANGS, not fire. This will be a problem for sure.

I'm honestly surprised Senshi didn't protest them using his pot as a shield. But he did draw the line at them suggesting they use his knife.

Marcille was annoyed at Senshi's excitement to make bread earlier but it all turned around excellently by the end. It's not Senshi having a spur-of-the-moment excitement. He wanted to do his part to prepare for their fight.

The party is at a net negative when it comes to power and defense compared to last time they fought the dragon. The only thing they can say they've done better is this time they're not struggling with hunger and fatigue.

He was chewing food at the moment, but I kind of think Senshi was also smiling as Laios thanked him for all the help he's given. Just look at his cheeks. He's grinning from ear to ear.

The red dragon appears and is sniffing the air. He's probably all "Hey something smells good! Is someone cooking cutlets? I hope they saved some for me."

Just before they head out, Marcille casts a spell on Laios but she's reading a book while doing it. Marcille is not a support caster so she doesn't know how to do this without a reference.

back

[moseslikellamas]

Cinders in the Dark pt.4

Pairing - Benjicot Blackwood x Whent!OC

Summary - Lucinda comes to terms with her impending destiny.

Warnings - Magic, delusions, trickery, frightening imagery, blood, suicidal ideation,depiction of burns, depictions of panic attack, anxious thoughts, grief, not canon, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2k

Just a note, right now all of the visions and prophecies are intentionally vague so as to not make the plot predictable. Things will start to add up soon though!

Lucinda had four days before the garrison was to arrive and with it the actual lord of Raventree hall. She was sick with fear. She did not sleep and could hardly eat in anticipation of what was to come. She could not close her eyes without the sight of burning bones behind her lids. But undeterred, she continued to map the castle. She would not allow the wretched copy of the lord to accompany her anymore though. Whenever it approached she would sincerely try to kill it. There had been a real person in that body before he took it. It was sick magic. But the lord puppeteering the body was swift and deft so she never truly had a shot at it. Instead she suspected the lord had taken to viewing her through the eyes of the flying creatures living in the castle.

Warging was not something she was very familiar with. The blood of the children of the forest was said to be the key aspect for inheritance but it was only myth and legend, lies and rumors. It was impossible to discern what the truth of the matter was. And it didn’t matter to her either way. She knew she didn’t want to be involved in it. It meant more old god, magical trouble. She could feel the ravens watching her when she walked the stone halls. It was almost worse than the imposter but not quite. The amount of magical disaster she encountered was cut down drastically.

She could not stop turning the witches' words over in her head. What would happen when the seasons change was heralded? Autumn was a season of transformation and harvest. But she could not fathom what crop she was about to reap. So she worked through all of the possible outcomes she could think of but found her imagination somewhat lacking. Every option couldn’t be slaughter. The lord wanted something and it was not just a place to stow his army.

Raventree hall was notorious for fielding huge swathes of men. They continuously built barracks as their numbers grew. They would use wood over stone allowing them to build them in half the time. So why would he send his army here, now? Surely he didn’t mean to take the castle. Her father had enough men to hold his own but it was laughable. The crown had given this castle and no one could take it from them without serious consequences. That left her without any real cause for the lord’s behavior. Perhaps the rumors were true and the man was psychotic. Those years of feeding blood to the weirwood tree had warped his mind.

Her dreams grew stranger as the nights passed on towards his arrival. The burning man did not show up and for that she was thankful. But instead she had dreams of men with crow heads that spoke the old tongue. She dreamed of holding a sword so bright it blinded her, her eyes turning cloudy from the damage. She dreamed of cracked window glass that held its shape against the shattered lines running through it. And all through the night she would wake up in a cold sweat to look at her door and ensure it wasn’t burning, awaiting to let the flaming man in.

Lucinda desperately wanted to leave the haunted place. She’d attempted more than once to simply ride away, her odds of escape be damned. But one of the various Blackwood men skulking around always intercepted her. She was being held hostage in her own castle. She tried sending ravens after the last fiasco. She’d made it out of the stables that time, but ran into a group positioned outside the walls. She’d looked at them briefly before taking off. Alas the Blackwood men were decent enough riders and managed to cut her off before leading her back.

When she would attach a letter to a crow, it would dutifully fly up like it was to leave before it would dive back down. It would caw and screech, almost pecking at her until she untied the letter. Then it would leave like usual. The lord of Raventree did not want her calling for help before he arrived. It was then Lucinda tried going to her father again, but the lord had done something to him as well. When her fathers eyes had met hers, she knew something was wrong with him. He had an odd aura around him, a mask of indifference that was at odds with who he was at his core.

On the last night before lord Blackwood's arrival she wandered the halls all night. She didn’t bring her book of mapped floors or a dagger. She hardly wanted to take a torch with her. But how could she get lost properly if she couldn’t see? She’d been wandering for hours, the castle wound on growing damper as the night wore on. She wished she believed in any gods to save her. She could use a sept or maybe a crypt would be better. Either way she was in between life and death, perched on the precipice of disaster. She thought of her mother, long rotted in the ground. She was the lucky one, nothing could touch you in death.

She did not light the torches on the walls, hoping no one would be brave enough to try and find her when dawn broke the horizon. And when she could bear the feeling of animal eyes on her no longer, she threw her own torch down. It sizzled on the cold ground, hissing against the action. But she had simply ran through the darkened halls hoping to hit a wall so hard it would take her out. She was going insane in the darkness. Without concrete images to see in the dark her brain started making them up. All of them varying shades of dark mounds, never discernable as to the true shape of the thing. But she knew it was Lord Blackwood in the dark. He was haunting her steps still.

She thought of the wilderness, yearning to be inside the too tall trees as she walked, entombed in her ruin. Maybe the roots would grow up through her, tangling in her hair and pulling her into the earth. The muddy ground would grow to replace her skin and when the leaves whispered in the trees above, she would know what they said to each other. Then she would sleep eternally, gazing up at the twinkling stars content. She sank to her knees, great heaving sobs finally escaping her.

Why should she suffer so much? She wasn’t a great lord, she wasn’t even a man. What damage had she ever done to anyone? She tried to remember feeling warm inside, the gentle feeling of fingers in her hair. Anything to keep her from dissolving into a rain of dust from despair. The sobs were so violent she choked on them, gagging. She lay on the dirty cold stone floor, letting her dress soak the damp in. If she couldn’t be warm and happy wrapped in the embrace of love, she would be nothing, blending into the darkness.

***

Lucinda had reached the bottom of the castle. She did not know how deeply she’d walked but her shoes were gone. Her feet were cut and bloody, leaving bloody footprints behind her. She’d also ripped her dress at some point, half of the bottom was gone exposing one leg from the knee down. She had to keep going, she had to hide since there was nowhere to run. But she had met the end of line. The castle would take her no further than here. She sat in the middle of the room, the darkness was no longer hanging over her oppressively. It just simply was and she was numb. When a voice spoke to her she was not surprised and did not startle at all.

“The stars are obscured by the clouds, they do not disappear from the sky when our eyes cannot reach them.”

The witches voice was soft and held a note of sadness. No interpretation was needed for Lucinda this time. She could hide down here as long as she wanted but she could not leave the fate waiting for her. That was fine, at least the lord would have to send a search party. Let her give him that inconvenience at least. Maybe he would lose scores of men to the darkened castle halls.

But as she sat on the cold floor, hands wrapped around her knees, a light grew in the distance. She went rigid at the fluttering sight of light. It was impossible that anyone had been following her. She’d been in pitch black darkness and she hadn’t known where she was going. Picking random doorways she felt in the darkness. Her heart was stuttering in her chest, threatening to give up and she hoped it would. As the distant light grew closer, she could start to make out the room around her. It was circular and massive, stretching further than her eyes could take in. And there were pews? It dawned on her as she spun around, taking in all she could see. She was in a sept of some sort, though it was nothing like any sept she had ever seen. The seven gods of the starry sept were nowhere to be seen, but the pews were made of dull gray wood of petrified weirwood trees.

She no longer felt safe under the earth. All of the sense that had fled from her returned in that moment. She wanted to run but the only exit was filled with a brilliant blinding light. She could not see what was making the light as she had to hold up her hands so as not to be blinded. It was only as the thing approached and the sound of sizzling flesh reached her ears that she knew. The flayed man was only bone now, the flames licking around his bones made them shine too brightly. He held his sword above his skull like a torch, the light of his burning bones reflected off of the steel acting as a blinding beacon. And in his other hand he held a crown of brambles that it placed on her head. The thorns cut into her forehead, causing tiny trickles of blood to run down her face.

Tears streamed down her face again but she did not turn away from the burning man. She stared into his hollow eye sockets, seeing the deep and terrible nothingness inside her reflected back. When its jaw rattled open to sound off the cawing of a murder, she knew dawn was upon them. She reached out suddenly, tearing a rib from the burning man, her hand was encased in agony from the movement. But she came back with the bone which was blackened now by the heat. The bones creaked as it looked at her, boney fingers brushing against her cheek emblazoning the shape of a fingertip on her face. Then it fell to pieces, the fire dying and the bones dissolving into ash. Left behind was the sword it had been carrying.

Lucinda shoved the rib in the pocket and picked the sword up. A short sword, Valyrian steel. She held it aloft before swinging it a time or two. Was she awake? Was the burning man real? She had not woken when it touched her. She could still feel the throbbing burn on her cheek and her hand was blistering up already. That pointed to her being awake but she could not be sure. The world had that awful dreamy, blurry feel to it again. She stood there tired and bleeding, staring into the once again dark hallway. Then she made up her mind to head back up, finally ready to meet the storm. The Lord of Raventree was going to have to bind her in darkness and death if he wanted to win anything.

[agentrouka-blog]

Hey Rouka. What do you think about Jon saying "I am not a wolf"? Is he just in denial, not willing to accept his Stark heritage because of his bastard status, or is it foreshadowing for him rejecting it? Though I think about moments where he wants to be Jon Stark/lord of WF as well.

Hi there!

Pretty sure that this line is very specifically aimed at the act of warging, not at a symbolic identification with House Stark.

He was walking beneath the shell of the Lord Commander's Tower, past the spot where Ygritte had died in his arms, when Ghost appeared beside him, his warm breath steaming in the cold. In the moonlight, his red eyes glowed like pools of fire. The taste of hot blood filled Jon's mouth, and he knew that Ghost had killed that night. No, he thought. I am a man, not a wolf. He rubbed his mouth with the back of a gloved hand and spat. (ADWD, Jon III)

This is in direct contrast with both Varamyr from this book's prologue, taking pleasure in feeding on even humans while warged into a wolf, and the way Bran almost immediately embraced hunting, killing and eating inside Summer, much to the dismay and concern of Jojen and Meera. It is directly related to Bran's willingness to abuse Hodor in this way. It makes him feel free and powerful.

It's also implied to be a smart choice by the way Melisandre is very clearly interested in exploiting the magical power inherent in Jon's warg gift.

She knelt and scratched Ghost behind his ear. "Your Wall is a queer place, but there is power here, if you will use it. Power in you, and in this beast. You resist it, and that is your mistake. Embrace it. Use it." I am not a wolf, he thought. "And how would I do that?" "I can show you." Melisandre draped one slender arm over Ghost, and the direwolf licked her face. "The Lord of Light in his wisdom made us male and female, two parts of a greater whole. In our joining there is power. Power to make life. Power to make light. Power to cast shadows." (ADWD, Jon VI)

Jon refuses. His warg dreams are a thing he has accepted about himself, but it is not something he is willing to actively explore and embrace. He doesn't approach Ghost, mentally, Ghost links up with him almost against his own volition. His hesitation is quite unlike that of his younger siblings, but it does mirror Robb, who showed deep regret after using his secret gift to aid his war effort early on. It is only after being stabbed that Jon is implied to slip into Ghost, likely drawn into him the same way Robb was instinctively drawn into Grey Wind. Not purposefully or forcefully like Varamyr, but through a mutually shared bond. Ghost will harbor him but he will set him free again.

This is mirrored to and in contrast with Dany. She doesn't actively call Drogon into the fighting pit, clearly their bond is what draws him near. But she cannot stop reiterating how much she identifies with the dragons, is "blood of the dragon", or even "a dragon". Their shared time in the grasslands solidifies their bond, and she adapts to his behavior. Eating as he does, hunting as he does, standing next to him, near-naked, near feral. She blurs the distinction between herself and her animal, joyfully, intentionally.

[asongoficeandthrones]

A Clash of Kings First Read - Chapter 35

(POV: Bran V.)

Setting: Winterfell.

Favorite character: I don't really want to say Jojen... but I'm gonna say Jojen anyway. Because even though he's like the harbinger of death for Bran and Rickon (and Alebelly and Septon Chayle and Mikken), he's like... very regretful about it. And he's so mysterious too! But I also really liked Bran and Meera, because they're so protective of the people they care about.

MVP: Jojen. I mean, it's hard to interpret his dreams (the meal in his green dream turned out to be a letter somehow??), but if he really has premonitions, then yeah, he's one of the most powerful beings on Westeros right now, I think? (Then again, he doesn't really do anything to try and prevent them from happening, so...)

Things I loved/liked:

I really liked Jojen in this chapter, he has some really great moments like when he says, "The past. The future. The truth," about the things people fear from dreams.

[Bran] was scared, even then, but he had sworn to trust them, and a Stark of Winterfell keeps his sworn word. Because it's the first time Bran actually talks about his dreams (some of his descriptions really broke my heart, like "Mother was afraid that I would fall but I knew I never would. Only I did, and now when I sleep I fall all the time"), but also because he trusts the Reeds! Yay!!

Bran at the start of the chapter, when he's so happy about Robb's letter and before it all goes to sh*t when he realizes this was Jojen's dream. And the fact that he shows that he really cares about the well-being of his people when he warns Mikken, Septon Chayle and Alebelly of Jojen's dream, knowing almost certainly that they wouldn't believe him (and most of them didn't).

But also Bran throughout the chapter, because he's extremely perceptive and intelligent, like when he asks "And there are still giants there, and... the rest... the Others, and the children of the forest too?" to Osha, and she answers, "The giants I've seen, the children I've heard tell of, and the white walkers..." I somehow really like that she doesn't try to hide the truth from Bran.

I'm sorry and I probably shouldn't be laughing about it, but Alebelly's reaction to Bran's warning that he would drown... xD

Things I disliked/hated:

Do I need to mention the Walders' behavior after learning about the death of their uncle? "We're very sad." And very believable too, if a nine-year-old could see right through you.

That f*cking Bolton Bastard... Seriously, he marries a woman, a lady, and then starves her to death, making her eat her own fingers??! That's one sick person right there. But oh well, here's a dead character I won't miss then.

The sea! If that's not a metaphor for Theon or Asha or Victarion, then I don't know what is. Which makes me sad (and mad, very mad), because if it's Theon, then it means he really has betrayed Robb, and not just in thoughts.

I'm really really worried for Bran (and Rickon, of course). Because I have a feeling Jojen's dreams are true, and if they are, well then it means that Bran and Rickon are going to die and why the hell wouldn't Jojen want his sister to go kill Reek? I'm pretty sure she could handle it if she was the one to suggest it in the first place, and she could slip past the guards or something!

Quotes: Jojen's "A knight is what you want. A warg is what you are. You can't change that, Bran, you can't deny it or push it away. You are the winged wolf, but you will never fly," because 1) Jojen is very blunt but actually means well, 2) it's rather poetic, and 3) now we know what Bran is!!

Thoughts overall: Very intriguing and worrying.

[legends-and-savages]

@ravenblccded sent: Willem has watched with the rest of the ravens as Prince Daemon himself rode in on his Blood Wyrm, with Rhaenyra and their family in tow. He knew that marrying Myella meant he would have meet her father, but he still couldn’t shake the anxiousness in the pit of his stomach. He warged back into his body before anyone could see, and made his way to the courtyard where his betrothed was. Myella was excited to see her father again, but—like Willem—she was nervous. She knew her father has calmed his temper, but was just as fierce. If he wanted to cut Willem down and feed him to Caraxes, he could. When the gates opened, Myella was practically running into her father’s arms, hugging him tightly, “I’m so happy you were able to come.”

She pulled back to introduce her soon to be husband, “Father, this is Willem.”

He smiled, trying to shake the nerves that plague him, and approached with a curt bow. “Prince Daemon, it’s a pleasure to finally meet.”

Daemon had promised to be on his best behavior, but that was going to depend on how the meeting itself went. To really make it a family affair he had gotten Bela from Dragonstone as well. The family had landed and there was a small smile on his features as Myella ran into his arms. He hugged her back. "We're happy for the invitation." He said. "It must be serious for you to invite us."

"You aren't surprising us with a wedding are you?" He asked before turning his attention to the young lord. His manners were at least fine.

"It is nice to meet you as well." Daemon said. "Myella has spoken of you."

[rise-my-angel]

I would like to indulge your batshit conspiracy theory about the Starks.

Okay I might not be able to, cus I am selfish and it is kind of a spoiler for something in my fic. But I assure you, it is based on very real, very complicated, and sometimes vauge but insane lore from grrm.

With characters like Jojen Reed so naturally being someone gifted with the Sight, and with free folk north of the Wall having Wargs be people that are not unusual to know, clearly those descending from the First Men are more inclined to be born with natural abilities of more unusual Northern magic, or are more inclined to be stronger with it then others.

But uh, lets just say, there are unique things about the Starks specifically that other families engaged in magic, natural or otherwise, that tell me that the Starks abilities run deeper then normal people should be able too. The show doesn't go into this at all, and it is still very vauge in the books.

But in the books, grrm tends to leave trails like this a lot. Where you can connect a lot of very unexplained details to ends with massive lore implications that might not be true, but he has certainly left you with enough scattered details to come to specific conclusions.

So while I don't think the Targaryeans have any magic that is special, unique, or exclusive to them at all, there is evidence to suggest that the Starks, in fact, do have something unique in their blood.

Something that uh..the show didn't even try to go anywhere near, but god wouldn't the Starks stories be crazy if they did. Bran and Jon's magical subplot from the books have the most to contibue to this uh..magical theory, a bit of Arya in the books has some as well.

I'll just leave it like this: Dany is not actually special because of her surviving the pyre and getting dragons. Both those events occured at the same time, and are a clear result of extremely rare but extremely dangerous and costly blood magic, or what some in the series call black magic. Dany being the unburnt and the mother of dragons are something she forced into the world through dark dangerous magic.

The direwolves were sent to the Starks peacefully, the wolves survived because Jon implored his fathers empathy to NOT cause harm by gifting them to the Stark children, the wolves are not inherintly out of control or dangerous because they reflect the nature of their bonded companion (Lady being the best example of having zero moments of any kind of aggressive behavior reflecting that Sansa is the least inclined to violence out of all the Stark kids). And The magical abilities of the Stark kids all came to them without any action against another. Bran, and in the books, Jon, Arya and certainly implied with Rickon and Robb are wargs without cause. They can do it, and no one got hurt and no magic or ritual was performed to cause them to be able to do it. In fact the only person who got hurt was Bran, as he woke up from him being harmed alone and had these abilties awaken in him, and Jon and Arya discovered it naturally and do not need to engage in specific magical spells or anything to use it.

Danys Dragons were forced into the world through literal fire and blood, and any magical connection she has with them is through the fact that she was involved in the blood magic that created them. They and her bond with them does not exist without that forced magical violence.

The Direwolves came to the Starks peacefully, and were kept through sympathy, and after they got those wolves, did magical abilities begun to awaken in the Starks and none of it requires any scrap of actual harm or blood or fire to perform.

Something about the Starks is connected to very specific Northern magic, and there was nothing they needed to do but exist, to have those abilities awaken within them.

So I would then ask, what would cause the Starks specifically, to have such specific magic through ALL of them that others do not have to that degree and why is it so STRONG in all of them when many with the sight or are wargs, are not as powerful as they all are.

Then you start looking at some other lore and stories within the world grrm has created, and other strange details about the Starks that stand out from other people, and you come to some...interesting conclusions.

But I will say, the Starks are not special beacuse of the implications of my theory, but because they are who they are DESPITE all of this, and they would all still be the goood, honourable, and even heroic characters they are even if they did not have this theory about them.

Whats special about their blood doesn't make them special as people, and that's part of why the Starks are not the same as the Targaryeans. The Targaryeans were ONLY special because of their so called, special abilities. Not despite them.

This was a long winded way of saying, I cant say it, but if I am anywhere near correct about this theory, grrm is a fucking mad lad.

[kolkudarandtheorcgang]

(Trigger Warnings: Mentions of violence, animal abuse, animal slaughter for food and other materials, s3x work)

Worldbuild Lore: Feral Tribe

As the ones closest to the vile nature of Mordor, the Feral Tribe distinguishes itself as the faction of the hunters and beast tamers of Sauron, gathering ferocious monsters to serve under his command in war. As savage as the caragors and as unwilling to bend as the dragons, their reputation is notorious as the uruks by far hardest to defeat, due to their endurance and stubborness.

Their roars are heard from afar as they ride their mounts forward at the front of their army, acting as knights against the horse riders amongst The Free Folks, tearing down their forces with the fangs and claws of their own as well as that of their trained creatures. Another important position they assume is that of trackers and saboteurs, as well as that of hunters of spies and escaping prisoners. Their pride lies in their reliance on instincts and on their vast knowledge of the nature of the animals of Mordor and how to bond with such beasts and dominate them, fearlessly.

Their mindset is heavily attuned to the behaviors of the creatures: no decent feral would fail at reading the behavior of their beasts, much less at reading the behavior and emotions of other orcs. In their heads, nature is everything of importance, for it can neither be denied nor refused, for if one follows their true nature, they become invincible just as the caragors and the wargs become stronger as they accept to follow their hunting and fighting impulses. Another thing they are attuned to is the world surrounding them, such as the forests where they dwell and explore, the rivers and lakes where the dangerous fishes swim, the caves where morgul bats and ghûls hide in from sunlight, and even the winds used by drakes and morgai flies to travel across the distances. The weather, the seasons, the cycles of the lifeforms, these things are all part of the wisdom gathered by the ferals, which often leads to them having a deeper level of empathy towards the living, even though usually, they either hold a sadistic hunger for their prey, determined to the point of never yielding, or present rather aggressive, animalistic traits such as brutality, distrust and selfishness.

The Feral Tribe dwells in the Haven at the burgh of Pakonband, known as the heart of the hunting guilds of the Haven. The space there is wide and open, with fenced stables and buildings with large yards for the animals kept there. Hunters can be seen atop watchposts, protecting the place from cattle thieves and runaway animals alike, while tall barred fences of metal and wood separate the open space from the other burghs. Many training arenas and breeding farms are located there as well, raising a wide range of creatures from drakes and morgul bats to caragors, wargs and spiders, whether as work or mount animals or as source of materials and ingredients. Pet critters are also bred and sold in the burgh for the inhabitants, though their main source of income is on the sale of the larger animals and on the offer of hunting and taming services, as well as training courses for new beast hunters, breeders and tamers. Those who prove themselves worthy earn free training or work at the burgh, while those caught mistreating the beasts are often harshly punished, despite the rumors surrounding the belief that ferals are cruel towards their own mascots and prey.

Impressively as it seems, the ferals actually hold deep sympathy for their peers, as well as a high level of overprotectiveness towards the younger and the weaker, choosing to fight to the death for their sake. Many ferals become great parents, mentors and babysitters at the Haven, as well as great caretakers of animals. Many even become vegetarian solely to avoid the slaughter of majestic beasts for the sake of feasting. Many others become protectors of the woods and of packs of animals as well as guardians of their companions. Their loyalty is impossible to be destroyed, except if betrayal against them was already committed, but even so, they are as quick to forgive as a mother in various circumstances.

Hierarchy:

-Overlord: Stakûga Ghûl Killer (current huntmaster of Black Blood Haven’s hunting guilds union and leading beastmaster of Black Blood Haven's beastmaster guilds union and the royal stable's administrator)

-Warchiefs: Mûg Ghûl Tamer, Markoth The Caragor Rider, Tûgog The Graug Master, Ur-Lizak The Tailor, Ar-Karo The Skinner, Kalrug The Warg-less

-Captains: approximately 300 of them, with Ratak of The Beasts as their main representative

Brand: A helmet made with the skull of a caragor, representing their success as a tribe being a feat only achieved thanks to the loyalty and dedication of their beasts, forever fighting beside them

Societal Relationships:

-Machine Tribe: Neutral relations at times, at anothers there is good or bad interactions depending on whether or not the machines forget to add soft padding to the saddles they craft for the ferals

-Terror Tribe: These two tribes often clash due to how the terrors are often brutish towards unruly beasts, something rather despised by the ferals, but still the terrors adore the trapping methods and the hunt weaponry crafted and designed by ferals

-Slaughter Tribe: The best clients of the Feral Tribe in matters of meat trade, as well as their main source of free favors and services, although there are ferals who despise slaughters and fear that they might eat their beloved beasts

-Warmonger Tribe: Sometimes the ferals adore selling them their best war beasts, some others they take offense at how the warmongers criticise them for their use of traps rather than direct combat and for their lack of military discipline

-Outlaw Tribe: Even though some ferals adore the new saddle and tack designs that outlaws produce for cheaper pricing, the outlaws are still viewed with deep distrust inside the Feral Tribe's burgh due to many cases of animal robberies

-Mystic Tribe: Many ferals follow the mystic priests in a rather fanatical manner, due to their insight into nature and the beasts of Mordor; ferals often offer free ingredients, materials and even food as gratitude for the peaceful methods of taming beasts of the Mystic Tribe; ferals usually will choose to support mystics as well as court mystics into becoming their mates

-Courtesan Tribe: The courtesans seem to love the ferals, as well as many vatkeepers and broodmothers of this tribe, probably because of how ferals are said to be dedicated, gentle and faithful lovers; often, ferals care for the pets of courtesans or offer them furs of the highest quality as payment for services, as well as stand guard over their children as a favor

-Suture Tribe: One of the Feral Tribe's main allies, for they offer free services of nursing to their beasts in exchange of dead animals to train their healing skills on; ferals often get wounded during tournaments and training, thus becoming a great source of income for the sutures

-Marauder Tribe: Marauders are always paying the hunters of the Feral Tribe for their services at catching and flaying animals with excellent fur, as well as buying only the most exotic critters from them, but usually, the Marauder Tribe views the Feral Tribe with contempt for their more simplistic lifestyle

-Dark Tribe: Both tribes respect each other and exchange training between masters and students, for they are the best at stealth and hunting; ferals often seek darks to court as mates

-Rover Tribe: Both tribes maintain great relations, since the rovers require great beasts to travel and even greater stables for them to rest and recover their energy from said travels; both tribes exchange knowledge often and one will always share their homes with the other at any moment, often leading to blood brotherhoods forming over time

-Other orcs (goblins, hobgoblins, etc): The other orc races deeply admire the ferals and heavily support them and their allies, thanks to their deep knowledge of hunting and nature, with the higher ranks of the tribe being viewed as heroes of legends by the goblins

-Pinkskins (humans, half-elves and half-orcs): They and the ferals sometimes form great relations, some others not, it all depends on individual though ferals still might hold great fondness for the pinkskins of the Courtesan Tribe

Foreigners (The Free Folks as a whole): Foreigners would never understand them as sentient beings, judging them for their ways, which seem far less civilized in their eyes; ferals would rather not even speak to foreigners who have not gained yet their trust, simply growling and roaring at them instead to keep them as far away as possible

[westerosxwhispers]

It's so funny to me that it is said that warging with Shadow has affected Josera's personality. But when he's not being controlled by Josera, Shadow is much more calm and docile as opposed to the aggressive and territorial behavior he shows whenever he's being controlled by Josera.

The conclusion I draw from this is that Josera was WORSE tempered than he already is, and Shadow's calmer personality made him chill 😂

[thefouraboveall]

𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐒 & 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑𝐒: 𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐇

ISTJ-A - The Logistician | Type 8: The Challenger

Some of the peculiarities and idiosyncrasies of the Blood God. Despite being deities, the Gods have their unique ticks and ways just like any mortal creature. Compared to his siblings, especially Nurgle, Khorne is the most laconic of the Daemon-Gods, but has many physical tells as to his mood. And they're all fairly obvious.

LOUD sneezes. You WILL jump.

Leaning on stuff or sitting. Khorne is an old warg and if given the choice between leaning or sitting and standing, he's going to do the former two. He tends to lean on whatever weapon he happens to be furnished with.

Can't get up without making some kind of noise. Aka the Dad Relocation Sound Effect.

Cracking his knuckles, or pulling his fingers so that they pop. Usually don't as an intimidation method, or if just bored. Slaanesh also hates it; all the more reason to do it.

May fall asleep when happening, though may just be leaning back while resting his eyes. Find out for certain at your own peril.

Crosses his arms and wide-stances it up.

Makes a lot of grunts and hums, Kratos Style. Also, doesn't use that many contractions when he speaks.

Is noticeably more confident and manful when he's wearing his armor. Not to say he's a coward without it (far from it), but without plate armor Khorne feels like something is...missing.

Will cure itches by twitching his skin or flicking his tail. This behavior is especially evident around Nurgle, as the Fly Lord's flies are drawn to the blood of Khorne's skin.

Drums his finger (just the one) when he's impatient. The speed at which he's doing it suggest just how angry he's getting.

Khorne's body is scored with bright glyphs that are also a signal to his mood. He also has a mane of flame that will quickly cloak his shoulders, arms, and body if he gets angry enough. This flame can grow so hot as to consume Khorne's own skin, until only a brass skeleton remains behind; Khorne can still function in this state, but must regenerate his skin once the rage passes.

One of Khorne's aspects is Hunting, and so he has an uncanny ability to be quiet and simply observe. This is very much a mind state though; by default, Khorne is loud. Walks loud, even his normal speaking voice is loud; you could hear khorne speaking through a wall without him yelling.

Manspreads. That's not even a HC, he just fucking does that.

Khorne can be seen shaping and maintaining the tuft of his tail so it doesn't get too long and cumbersome.

Khorne is a facultative biped. Though he comfortably walks upright, his anatomy is more ape-like than man-like and he can easily shift between bipedal and quadrupedal locomotion.

Will absently stroke the fuzz on his chest and belly if he's not wearing any armor.

Paces when agitated. Walks with the slightest of limps.

Will shake his head in a dog-like manner when agitated.

Khorne can make a purring like sound when he is very content or delighted. You will almost certainly never hear it in your lifetime and if you do it could easily be mistaken for an aggressive growl.

If his hands are occupied, he has no issue putting something in his mouth to carry it, or vice versa.

Flits his tongue when he's in thought. Khorne is more overtly reptilian than any of his children.

Tagging: @thyunalloyed (here ya go ya nerd <3)

[wolfoath]

while benjen's own intuitive nature is not necessarily indicative of him being a warg - especially when that is not necessarily a defining trait of wargs, although it is a common trend between them - and the many similarities that lie between him and jon can easily be attributed to jon taking after lyanna and benjen simply being a mirror of his sister as well, i do think that many of ben's behaviors, as we see him in his sparse interactions, do point towards him being a warg.

one of the defining moments that i believe nods towards this is his first on-page appearance, wherein he sits with jon during the feast in winterfell when robert arrives to see ned, and it is the simple fact of ben not only having no fear or wariness towards ghost (as all others did), but easily ruffling the direwolf's fur and playing with him - you could use the excuse that it's because of jon's sheer well of trust in his uncle, but we know that jon is the only stark that ghost, at this point, allows to touch him and be close to him. benjen, who has met direwolves beyond the wall before, who has seen them and been near them, and honestly, as i continue this post - the way that there is entirely a chance that benjen, at one point or another, had known the she-wolf that mothered the pups that the stark's now had, and the possibility of having let her through himself (as there were no direwolves within the wall, at least to the knowledge of everyone else).

i'm running out of steam with this and getting distracted, but listen. look. benjen is a warg and knew more than he could reasonably tell ned or jon. i will die on that hill

[imaginarianisms]

listen. lady is sansa's service direwolf. she's been through so much since she left winterfell for king's landing and when she finally reunited with lady in the vale of arryn after so many years of being apart, she finally feels that connection to her traditional homeland trickling into her life again. she's the only one out of her litter to even qualify for such an important task & even as a pup, lady was trained easier than most ordinary dogs; this is because of the powerful bond the two inherently shared & her skinchanger-warg abilities subtly influencing lady's actions & vice versa.

lady's tasks include psychiatric alerting & responding, behavioral interruptions when she undergoes a meltdown, a panic attack, or a posttraumatic flashback by pawing at her arm to snap her out of it & redirecting her to brush her fur or doing a hobby she likes, counterbalance mobility assistance in the harsh winters & icy roads of the north, ending conversations she doesn't feel comfortable partaking in, buffering, guiding to an exit or leading her to specific locations in case she gets lost or cannot find her way, retrieving items, finding trusted people, barking and/or howling for help if need be, reminders to wake her up especially in winter, reducing her hypervigilance by checking rooms & areas before she enters the premises for fear of being attacked again or dealing with hidden intruders, crowd control in the form of blocking & guarding to prevent people from coming up from behind her & getting too close to her & a form of deep pressure therapy where she will sit on sansa's legs & applies pressure to her legs & chest & licking to calm her down & ground her & acting like a weighted blanket with the warmth & pressure to offer comfort; she is multipurpose but predominantly psychiatric, sansa has undiagnosed anxiety, depression, ADHD & C-PTSD (medieval times don't even have diagnosis but y'all get the point, disabled and/or neurodivergent people still existed in medieval times, fantasy & science fiction settings are no exception to the rule !!) .

sansa stark has one thing that ordinary service dog handlers don't have: the ability to warg into her service direwolf.