#Wolf & Parchment Quote

[lilium-dragomir]

[dailyspiceandwolf]

"Don't look for a place to run. Find a place you can head toward with hope. Then, no matter what you do, whether it be trade or not, you can live on in strength."

[goblinpuppy35]

The Punk and the Wolf

(Previous chapter, Part 3, Next chapter)

Remus Lupin x Male Reader

Summary: Set during OFTP, Y/N is Mad Eye Moody's assistant and while staying at Grimmauld place, him and Remus develop a connection.

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The next week was grey and cold, frequent rain showers kept the pavement slabs outside damp and reflective. At night the winds blew, rattling the windows and echoing through the halls. To keep the inside of the house from matching the bleak atmosphere outside most of the warm table lamps were kept on throughout the day and at night they looked like paths of yellow tinted orbs guiding you down the hallways. All the students had returned to Hogwarts, a little nervous and reserved to leave.

Remus was helping Sirius as much as he could, rumours were growing that the dark lord was hunting down werewolves, forcing them to join his side, so for the time being the two friends agreed it was safer for Remus to stay in the house and help with meetings and strategy planning. During one of these wet mornings, Remus and Sirius were hunch over the dinning table together reading and replying to letters from members of The Order and associates. The task was draining but there was an unspoken sense of commodity between the two, they had been friends for so long and been through so much together Remus always felt at ease in Sirius' company.

"Forget the war this, THIS is what's actually going to kill me" Sirius groans as he leaned back in his chair rubbing the palm of his hand with his thumb. Remus only laughs and rolls his eyes as he continues to write his letter. "These ones will need to be sent out before midday" Sirius sighs as he scoops a pile of letters into his hands "when Moody comes back tell him". "Moody and Y/N already came back about an hour ago" Remus interrupts not looking up from his parchment. Sirius jolts up and stares at his friend who is still focusing on his writing, "and how do you know that?". "Because .." but Remus trails off and only then dose he look up from his work, not at Sirius though, he keeps looking forward hoping this moment will just pass.

"Because Y/N has felt our book on the side table across the room which means he's sleeping in the other room now" was what Remus has stopped himself from saying. Our book. Over the past week Y/N and he had developed a system with thier shared reading of The Odessy, when either of them were going to sleep they would leave it on the side table for the other to pick up and carry on where they left. Only once was the book disturbed when George pick it up to hit Fred's head when he was annoying him to which Remus took the book and hit George over the side of the head lightly and told him not to hit others with things that didn't belong to him. Afterwards Remus carefully made sure Y/N's bookmark was still in the same place.

Remus had noticed that Y/N had started underlining quotes within each chapter and making little comments in the sides of the pages which Remus would rely back to. 

"Do you think this imagery links back to the first chapter?" -Y/N

"Possibly! the part with the Cyclops has always been my favourite" -Remus 

"I'm enjoying it, tho Moody keeps telling me to stop reading about one when I have a Cyclops right in front of me that I should be listening to :) " -Y/N

Along with communicating through annotations, every morning that week Remus had been greeted with a premade brewing cup of tea in the kitchen and every other day a new type of chocolate based snack Y/N had picked up for him in the muggle world. This charming ritual always made Remus smile but the gesture also reminded him that Y/N was already back and collapsed in the living room with Moody, door closed behind them. Remus was constantly fighting the urge to go in and take Y/Ns hand and thank him for these small moments which were becoming the highlights of his day. However in the few meetings they attended together, another situation were Remus was pained by not having Y/N alone, Y/Ns eyebags were starting to give his a run for their money. He must be exhausted. On the particularly fierce nights Remus would lie awake in bed and worry about Y/N being out somewhere in the rain, all their missions were obviously essensail but at this point Remus had fully submitted to his deepening feelings for Y/N and simply wanted to know he was safe. Not that he was going to admit this to Sirius right now if he could avoid it.

"Well if they are back now then I can go in and ask them" Sirius declared abruptly rising from his chair and briskly walking towards the living room door. "Pads no! Y/N needs to rest" states Remus getting up and swiftly chasing after his friend, Sirius had started to open the large door until Remus places his long fingers in the gap keeping the door in place just a jar. "Oh Remus .. buddy.. you've got it bad haven't you" Sirius statement makes Remus frown and blush simultaneously thought this reaction is broken by his ears honing in on a small noise coming from the living room sofa. Looking over Remus can see Y/N, alone, outstretched and slumped on his side across the sofa, legs lifted up over the arm and boots still on. His gaze travels up to Y/Ns face which is half hidden by his Y/H/C hair sticking to his face and neck damp, he is shivering in his sleep. The poor lad must have been caught in the storm on his way back this morning Remus thinks and leaving Sirius in the doorway he makes him way into the room. Carefully trending his way over to not wake Y/N who's face was scrunched up and twitching slightly. Remus thinks he must be dreaming. Leaning over Y/Ns sleeping body like a stone arch Remus reaches up for the blanket laid over the back of the sofa and slowly draps it over Y/N. Before pulling it all the way up he stops and listens, Y/N is muttering in his sleep.

"I ... I ... no ... we... we cant.... please.." followed by soft whimpering. Remus' eyes are stricken with concern. Then with an ungraceful whack the other door to the room swings open and Moody marches in "Y/N! Up! Those death eaters we've been tracking have been spotted on the other side of London". Before even opening his eyes Y/N promptly lifts up his torso "hhhmm sure Moody just one sec I.." and then he opens his eyes and is staring up and a stunned Remus, still leaning over him and half way through draping a blank over Y/Ns body. The taller man is like a shocked doe, frozen in spot not sure what to do. Only taking a few seconds to process the situation Y/N smiles tirdly up at Remus, placing his hand on Remus' upper arm "Thank you, tho Im going to have to ask for a rain check on the tucking in" and putting more of his weight onto Remus' arm he lift his body fully upright and over the arm of the sofa, beginning to trail on after Moody. Remus was caught breathless by this physical contact and it wasn't until the sound of the back door shutting, signalling they had left did he clear his throat, straighten up and begin to slowly fold up the blanket that was still in his hands.

"I know what your going to say" Remus says in an annoyed tone to the room sensing that Sirius is still standing in the doorway, arms folded and looking at him, "Oh good because I know what your going to say, you cant possibly tell him how you feel because he shouldn't have to be burdened with the likes of you and your condition and you deserve to die alone and brooding, Mooney if you weren't so loveable your level of self deprecation would be suffocating ". With a huff Remus places the blanket back onto the sofa "I say those things for a good reason Sirius, Y/N is already run off his feet I ... I just want him to be looked after" he says looking defeated at his friend. There's a moment of silence. "I will talk to Moody, see if he can give the lad a day off" Sirius says with a understanding nod, then leaves the room.

Two nights later Remus is lying awake listening to the rain, unable to sleep. The full moon was approaching soon and his senses were digging into him like pins from all directions, his ears picked up a clicking sound which he knows is the sound of the back door latch being opened two floors down. Y/N? Making his way down and towards the kitchen the sound of rain grows louder and opening the kitchen door Remus observed the pale blue light of the night filling the kitchen as the backdoor was wide opening, creating a perfectly framed rectangle of rain coming down steadily. A silhouette is standing in the frame, a small orange glow appearing under their face as they take a long drag from their cigarette, Y/N was staring out into the rain and didn't notice Remus until he closed the door behind him and began to walk towards his direction. At first Y/N looked shocked but upon seeing Remus face his own face relaxed "hello stranger" Y/N says with a smirk before dropping his cigarette to the floor and crushing it with his boot.

"Mind if I join you?" Remus was leaning on the opposite side of the door frame to Y/N pointing down at his packet of smokes. Y/N starts to take two fresh cigs out as a gust of wind goes by making him shudder slightly. "I enjoy watching the rain so much I forgot about the cold" he says with a nervous laugh looking down. Shadow falls over Y/N as he realise Remus is towering over him, arms rolling back and then moving forward as the taller man removes his cardigan and gently places is around Y/Ns shoulders. Slipping his arms into the sleeves Y/N doesn't protest and instead silently looks up into Remus piercing blue eyes. Maintaining eye contact he puts one cigarette into his own mouth and guides the second towards Remus's lips, the older man parts his lips slightly letting the cigarette be placed in his mouth. Leaning in closer till the cigarette tips are almost touching Y/N brings up the lighter and lights them both at once. Smoke begins to build up between them but their eyes stay connected.

Remus adored how deep Y/Ns Y/E/C eyes were, their intense stare made his heart flutter. He clears his throat and takes a drag. Within Remus felt like he was burning up. He had to tell Y/N about how he felt and how they couldn't do anything, it just wouldn't be fair on him. "Remus I need to tell you something" Y/N said breaking the intimate silence between them. "Okay" Remus tilted his head and looked down at Y/N as he brought his cigarette to his lips between his fingers. "Over the past week I've developed strong feelings for you.. really strong feelings" Y/Ns eyes are fixed on an unknown point outside as he taps ash onto the wet ground "I doubt you share them but regardless I need to let you know what nothing can happen here. Im not worth the trouble and it wouldn't be fair on you" Y/N looks up at Remus with a smsll sad smile. Remus is dumbfounded. This guy just stole my line he thought.

"Y/N.. how could you say that about yourself! You are extraordinarily considerate and caring. If i had to go a day without seeing your handwriting in our book i don't think id bother getting out of bed", Remus was taken aback by his own honestly, everything was coming out now so why stop. "Remus. Stop. This cant happen. I will cause you nothing but pain." Y/Ns tone is much more stern and has straighten up folding his arms across his chest, his chin just about the height of Remus' shoulder. "The only thing you currently cause me is worry Y/N" Remus blurts out "Your working yourself into the ground , I know everyone's missions are important but .. but I cant help but want to look after you." The rain is getting harder. "Im beyond help" mutters Y/N has he flicks his cigarette away "just stay away from me okay". "Y/N you are being ridicules" Remus says reaching out to touch Y/Ns shoulder but Y/N shoves it away forcefully. "Fuck you Lupin. You. Dont. Know. Me. You cant help me. No one can!" Y/Ns eyes are pricking with tears and with a spin of his heel he storms out into the rain. This time Remus reaches out and successfully grabs Y/Ns cardigan covered shoulder "wait please!". Y/Ns tears are mixed with the rain and he starts to struggle against Remus grip.

Remus's cardigan hung lose over Y/Ns upper body so with his thrashing and Remus tight grip and piece of clothing began to slip off Y/Ns body with ease until it was left in shambles in Remus arms. He stood hunched in the door frame, Y/N stood up straight, breathing heavily in the pouring rain, both staring at Y/Ns outstretched arm from where the cardigan had left. Remus' eyes widen in disbelief. A distinct red mark flowed up Y/Ns arm like a curling spiral with a thin whiter lined mark within the red, almost looked as it it was glowing. It looked as if Y/N had barbed wire under his skin. Remus had read about this many of time but had never seen it in real life but there was no mistaking the permeant mark of the Unbreakable Vow.

[interrospire]

My favorite quotes from Umberto Eco's the Name of The Rose “Then I can always and only speak of something that speaks to me of something else, and so on. But the final something, the true one—does that never exist?” “Perhaps it does: it is the individual unicorn. And don’t worry: one of these days you will encounter it, however black and ugly it may be.” "...and not because they practiced a new heresy and considered Jesus a woman, but because they no longer knew any Latin" "Now I realized that not infrequently books speak of books: it is as if they spoke among themselves. In the light of this reflection, the library seemed all the more disturbing to me. It was then the place of a long, centuries-old murmuring, an imperceptible dialogue between one parchment and another, a living thing, a receptacle of powers not to be ruled by a human mind, a treasure of secrets emanated by many minds, surviving the death of those who had produced them or had been their conveyors." "The order that our mind imagines is like a net, or like a ladder, built to attain something. But afterward you must throw the ladder away, because you discover that, even if it was useful, it was meaningless." "Devil. An idea shared also by infidels of equal wisdom, for my eyes fell on the lines attributed to Abu-Bakr Muhammad ibn-Zakariyya ar-Razi, who in a Liber continens identifies amorous melancholy with lycanthropy, which drives its victim to behave like a wolf: first the lovers seem changed in the external appearance, their eyesight weakens, their eyes become hollow and without tears, their tongue slowly dries up and pustules appear on it, the whole body is parched and they suffer constant thirst; at this point they spend the day lying face down, and on the face and the tibias marks like dog bites appear, and finally the victims roam through the cemeteries at night." "There is an estimative virtue situated in the dorsal part of the median ventricle of the encephalus (What is that? I wondered) whose purpose is to perceive the insensitive intentions perceived by the senses, and when desire for the object perceived by the senses becomes too strong, the estimative faculty is upset, and it feeds only on the phantom of the beloved person; then there is an inflammation of the whole soul and body, as sadness alternates with joy, because heat (which in moments of despair descends into the deepest parts of the body and chills the skin) in moments of joy rises to the surface, inflaming the face. The treatment suggested by Arnold consisted in trying to lose the assurance and the hope of reaching the beloved object, so that the thought would go away." "By the term “people,” he said, it would be best to signify all citizens, but since among citizens children must be included, as well as idiots, malefactors, and women, perhaps it would be possible to arrive reasonably at a definition of the people as the better part of the citizens, though he himself at the moment did not consider it opportune to assert who actually belonged to that part."(this is amusing) "Everyone said there had never been such a jolly abbey, and Berengar pulled up everyone’s habit, man and woman, kissing them all on the anus." (it gets more and more unhinged) "We are not afraid, and, above all, we know how to destroy them—better, how to allow them to destroy themselves, arrogantly carrying to its zenith the will to die that is born from their own nadir."

[jodilin65]

Yay! Tom’s lab results are great! His TSH is 3.25 (lucky guy), and his cholesterol is low, though it has always been low. His glucose is 84, and he said he can't remember it ever being that low. His A1C has dropped from 6.2 to 5.8, which surprised me. While it’s an improvement, it’s still considered pre-diabetic; I thought the pre-diabetic range was 6.0 to 6.4, but it’s actually 5.7 to 6.4. So, he’s still slightly pre-diabetic. This gives me hope that if cutting back on sugar could drop him four points, it could bring me into the normal range since I was at 6.0. Genetics could still eventually work against us, but this gives me hope for the immediate future.

There’s no way my cholesterol will be even close to good, but hopefully, my TSH won't be too out of whack. I'm going to try my best to get it into the single digits, but I won't increase the vitamins until it gets closer to my lab appointment.

Even though I'll never lose weight, and I doubt Tom will either, going keto is definitely the smart thing to do. It’s much healthier. Yes, most sugary snacks do taste better than sugar-free ones, but there are still plenty of yummy sugar-free options. The cookie dough fat bombs I made were so good that Tom only let himself have one because he knew he’d get carried away, lol. They’re very sweet and rich-tasting. The brown sugar substitute called Swerve is amazing—it looks, tastes, and smells like the real thing!

The next thing I’m going to try is making my own cheese crackers. I got ultra-thin Sargento cheddar cheese, and after cutting each slice into fours, I'm going to lay them out on parchment paper and bake them at 250° for 45 minutes. It says to check every 5 minutes, and I will because we do have a bit of a kick-ass oven.

I can’t take Zyrtec anymore. It makes me sleep too long and leaves me groggy and hungover the next day. I’m still a little fuzzy-brained, and I got up at 7:30 p.m. I’m going to have to use the spray, but only when the congestion gets bad. I just hope that if we ever move, I don’t have epic sneezing fits wherever we go.

I’m still not sure if there are any foods that leave me tired the next day, but I spotted an entry of mine from 2015 that mentioned feeling perkier since cutting back on carbs. I had good energy yesterday and the day before, but I also took ibuprofen before bed, and I wonder if that’s why I slept sounder.

Yesterday’s glass of wine made my heart race. I don’t know why, but it does this every now and then. Maybe I sipped it too quickly. I probably won’t have any tonight.

I began watching FBI and like it even if there’s too much of America’s favorite subject. It’s by the same producer, Dick Wolf, who produced Law & Order.

The Muslim guy with a leading role was quoted as saying he wants to show the world that Muslims and Arabs aren’t bad.

LOL, yeah, tell that to the Israelis.

I might watch PD True as well.

I was about to edit and post this but then I ended up taking a 90-minute nap. I don’t know why, but it’s been a wonderfully plane-free night since I first got up early in the evening. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever gone that long without hearing something flying up there. Ironically, it comes after yet another complaint to the FAA, but I don’t think it’s connected to that—people just don’t care.

[fridakahloblvd]

MORE QUOTES!

“My mom, now revealed to be scary parchment mom with people crawling under her skin…”

“There’s a lot of stories about the wolf, but most of the stories about the wolf aren’t really about the wolf, you know. It’s about what you do when the wolf comes.”

“Where’d you go, buddy?…We were in the blood and shit together. And then you ran! You’re the only one who lived! We all fucking died!”

“You don’t know where Pinocchi-Crow is.”

God, the quotes in this episode…

(neverafter ep 8 spoilers)

“We think there might be something in The Lines Between that’s not a member of the staff, and we can’t find it.”

“Suddenly you feel a vibe that i will just describe…as like the ship from Alien. Of like, these people are here working and doing something, but there’s something here with them, and they know there’s something here with them.”

also, this

[jimblejamblewritings]

snow falls hot | part 15.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: it’s game of thrones…

Pairing: gendry x reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist) 

Winterfell was thriving. The North was very much the same. It was still taking time to recover after the dead marched through. But the North felt promising with you. The lords and ladies of their houses had confidence when they agreed that you should lead. Under Ned’s thumb, side by side with Robb. It was obvious you knew the North in and out. And from little, the ones old enough to remember you remembered the air of royalty and leadership that trailed behind you as you walked through Winterfell.

You and Shadow had come back from Bear Island the day before. Some of the Free Folk were now living there with all of House Mormont killed. The Free Folk adapted well to living inside the Wall. They still did things their way but found that a lot of their customs aligned with typical views of the North. Shadow became the best resource possible. You quickly could reach the farthest ends of your kingdom. If supplies were needed, you could take them by strapping a basket to her legs.

When you didn’t need to go very far or the baby wasn’t in the mood to fly, you would take Grey Wind. The wolf reached full height when he was practically still a puppy, but the spryness of a young almost teenage wolf was apparent. He seemed to run faster nowadays and get distracted rather easily sometimes. Ghost often came with you if he wasn’t trailing behind Tormund who stayed in Winterfell instead of marching South.

The gates opened to let you and Grey Wind back inside. You laughed as you watched the children race after their dragons— Eddard stopping briefly to wave to you before following his friends. Sansa approached, her dragon blowing a puff of smoke before flying far away in the other direction. You slid off of Grey Wind, who licked the back of your hand and walked away to wherever he was going.

“You’re barely showing,” she commented. “Was it like that with Eddard?”

Having missed your first pregnancy, Sansa was very much involved with this one. She was there for every task to the point where she was almost pushing the midwife out of her job. You laughed and held your stomach.

“Oh no. By the time we reached the Twins it was fairly obvious I was pregnant. Sam is learning about children from the midwives. They say sometimes you stay small all the way until the birth.”

Before Sansa could say something else or take another step, Jaime and Brienne approached on horseback. They jumped down from the horses and Jaime brandished a letter. You looked at the wax seal with a dragon on it— it could only be from Daenerys. You tore through the seal.

“What is it?” Sansa asked as your eyes scanned the paper quickly.

“It’s from Varys.”

“What does the Spider want?” Brienne asked.

“He says Cersei has brought all the citizens into the city… a human shield.”

“Surely—”

“She won’t attack? They killed her dragon, taken her closest friend captive. She says she will tear Cersei from root to stem. When the false queen doesn’t surrender because we all know she will not, Aunt Daeny wants everyone to know it was Cersei’s fault the sky was brought down on King’s Landing.”

You read the exact quote from the parchment. You read the paper once more and crumpled it up.

“How did she take Meereen, lead the Dothraki? She has always used fire to get what she wants. Brash and a tyrant. A single utterance of a word she doesn’t like and she thinks you must be destroyed from it as if everyone will agree with every decision you make. She speaks of breaking a wheel but all she has done is continue it, she thinks because her people aren’t in chains that means she is just.”  

The three around you watched as your eyes went white and Grey Wind returned to your side. Another flash of white and Shadow dropped into the courtyard. You turned to Sansa.

“I know you’ve only ridden her for fun but the saddle is in the stables, Eddard is comfortable as well if you need help.”

You adjusted your bow, sword, and quiver of arrows and swung back onto Grey Wind. Jaime grabbed your arm.

“Where are you going, Your Grace?”

“I need to get my brother before our Aunt leads him to his death.”

“He is capable. This is Jon— ”

“No! He isn’t Jon Snow or Lord Crow or whatever. His name is Aegon, Aegon Targaryen-Stark and I will not let that usurper of a Dragon Queen take his life. Gendry is with him!”

“You are pregnant.”

Brienne’s words stopped you. You relaxed your fingers from where they were gripping Grey Wind’s fur and looked at three of your advisors in front of you. They watched your fingers dance on your stomach before you squared off your shoulders and looked them in the eye.

“I had a dream and Daenerys has taken the second path. One that promises fire and blood on the backs of innocent people. I wanted to put my faith in her because she is family, it has been broken. I am not the Queen in the North, nor the rightful heir to Seven Kingdoms or an Iron Throne. The Iron Throne is a chair, a concept that no longer exists. Seven Kingdoms do not exist, only one and that is Westeros. I am Queen of Westeros and two false queens threaten my people.”

Brienne, Jaime, and Sansa all bowed down understanding that nothing would change your mind. They didn’t want to agree but acknowledged you were speaking like a true royal.

“What would you have us do, Your Grace?” Sansa asked when they stood back up.

“Little Bird, keep Winterfell in the dark. Northernmen do not need to march for me, they are needed here. You will arrange for Uncle Edmure and the Vale to escort Bran, Tormund, Sam and anyone else you deem important to King’s Landing. They will need to leave tomorrow. You and Eddard will as well. Fly to us on Shadow.”

“Should you not take your dragon?” she asked.

“No. She will see Shadow a mile away. I want to save King’s Landing not rain fire on them. Grey Wind, big as he might be, is less noticeable.”  

“And us?” Brienne asked, motioning to her and Jaime.

Your eyes went white and they watched Grey Wind howl. Not long after, Ghost appeared.

“Riding a direwolf is much like riding a horse. Do you two need a saddle?”

Ghost growled slightly when Jaime went to attach his horse’s saddle to the wolf until you shushed him. The dire wolf let the saddle be strapped around him and then both new riders get on. You nodded at Sansa before Grey Wind sped off. Brienne and Jaime both held to Ghost’s fur with a nervousness as he followed behind his brother.

The wolves were well on the path to King’s Landing when you stopped so they could drink. With the people in the land now knowing who you were, you weren’t concerned about food. If the three of you got hungry, any tavern or farmer would be glad to feed you. The wolves were lapping at the river water when you gasped. Brienne and Jaime were up immediately but you reassured them it was fine.

“You sounded anything but,” Jaime commented.

“I’ve never dreamed while awake before. Ser Jaime, what did my grandfather say before you killed him?”

“Burn them all… why?”

“Dracarys,” you whispered.

“I’m sorry?”

You shook your head. There was no way to tell them you saw Missandei’s head. You saw fire not just red but green as well. The ringing of bells still echoed in your ear. There was no way to tell them that what you saw was like the Long Night only fire instead of ice and the living instead of the dead. You walked away from them to bend down and pet Ghost and Grey Wind while they were drinking. Jaime and Brienne watched you sit in the grass between the wolves who eventually sat down as well.

“Was she always like this?” Brienne asked him.

Jaime nodded. “I remember seeing her in Winterfell, how they loved her. She was a Snow then but there was always something different about her. Of course back then I was only thinking not the worst choice for a wife that Robert could have made me take.”

Brienne lightly hit his shoulder and Jaime chuckled before continuing.

“But yes, she’s always been like this. A bit more hardened now.”

“Who wouldn’t be after what has happened to her. I can’t help but think how different the world would be if Ned had told the truth,” Brienne pondered.  

“I’d still be queen,” you said suddenly and looked back at them.

Your two knights jumped slightly in surprise, thinking you hadn’t been listening to them. You laughed and stood up to walk back over to them and sit down. Brienne held up a canteen of water and you took it along with some bread that was in their bag. Picking at the bread, you took a bite and chewed a bit before continuing to speak.

“Your words are kind Ser Jaime but I haven’t always been like this. I wasn’t smart. I told Ned to bend the knee to Joffrey and he died.”

“You did?”

“Varys took me to see him in the dungeons and Ned told him. My biggest kept secret was one shared by too many people to be a secret if any of you were aware the other ones knew. Our trusty spider told Ned he had a choice to install the true ruler and I… I still remember what I said, I… Lord Stark will bend the knee. My decisions led many to death when I was younger, more stupid.”

“You did what you thought was right to protect your family and your people.”

You shook your head at Brienne’s words. “But I didn’t. I second guessed my own dreams because I was so determined to be a plain girl, just live.”

“What changed that?”

“There’s a small farm nearby, I know the family. They took care of Eddard and I when he was still a baby. Winter was coming and they, the other families around, were barely surviving. My dreams became too much to ignore anymore— that’s all I did after Robb’s death, ignore my dreams. But I couldn’t anymore… I used to scoff at the idea of birthrights and prophecies.”

“Now?”

“Now? I still think they can be a crock of shit,” you chuckled at how the two knights looked stunned at your word choice. “But they also mean something to those willing to rise to the occasion.”

Jaime raised his canteen.

“Enith of House Targaryen-Stark. First of Her Name, Commander of Beasts, Shadow Rider, and Magic Entertainer. Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lady of Winterfell, Azor Ahai, rightful heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms now turned one. Queen of Westeros.”  

Brienne raised her canteen as well. You bowed your head and with a smile held up the bread in your hand as a toast. The two knights seemed so sure of you that you couldn’t help but be sure of yourself. As soon as the sun broke the horizon, you guys were immediately back on the wolves. In a few hours, Sansa would be sending the Vale to protect Bran on his way. In a few days, she and Eddard would be in King’s Landing. Not just to save innocent citizens but to save your son as well, you didn’t have much time.

The wolves were almost at King’s Landing when you abruptly stopped. Brienne and Jaime looked around in confusion when you jumped down from Grey Wind. Your head whipped wildly and you turned to face them, worry apparent on your face.

“Do you hear it too?”

“Hear what?” Brienne asked.

“The bells.”  

Jaime couldn’t help but adjust his grip on his sword, having heard a conversation similar to this before. Brienne cleared her throat to inform you that she hadn’t. Jaime shook his head in agreeance. You nodded slowly and laughed. Jaime held onto his sword a bit harder. Even Brienne was slightly worried.

“Magic is madness. It isn’t ringing— it’s death. It always comes back to the Doom doesn’t it?”

“Your Grace?”

“Daenys Targaryen, the reason our House even exists today. The Doom, whatever it was, sounded like ringing in her dreams. Death has always sounded like the ringing of bells and it haunts us all whether we know it or not.”

“What are you saying?” Brienne tried to find meaning in your words.

“The gods don’t flip a coin each time a Targaryen is born. We are all mad. We all hear death, play with magic, exist in realms man probably shouldn’t go. It isn’t fate or the gods’ whim that some of us are tyrants, potentially even evil. That is a choice all on our own.”

“What you hear?” Jaime asked as he relaxed his grip on the sword. “This bell ringing, death… does that mean Daenerys has made her choice?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I hear death and it tells me to protect the living and avoid it. Aerys heard death and it told him to kill who he perceived as an enemy and ensure it. Jon— Aegon— hears death and it tells him to keep fighting and hold it off another day, for enemies and his people alike. I do not know what Viserys heard, we’ll never know what Rhaegar heard. And I don’t know what Daeny hears, not for certain. I don’t think she quite knows herself.”

“But she will make a choice soon.”

“She will.”

“And?”

You touched your stomach, the icy wound chilling your fingertips.  

“I haven’t looked for ghosts since getting stabbed by the Night King. They remind me too much of my own death to speak to them but they are forcing me to listen. If I am to protect the living and avoid death, we cannot wait for Daenerys to decipher what the bells mean to her. The people cannot wait.”

“We need to warn them, then.”

“Sansa should be flying overhead soon. King’s Landing might be on fire when we get there, Cersei hiding in the Red Keep. I don’t know about Jon and Gendry, or Arya. We have to be smart, you are my Queensguard but the people are more important than I am at the moment.”

“You want us to help get them to safety?” Brienne asked.

“Yes. I’ll find everyone else on my own. I’m going to kill Cersei and when Daeny comes for her head she will see me sitting on the throne instead, waiting for her to answer to all her crimes. But I need you two to move as many people out of the fire’s path… and don’t get yourselves killed while doing so.”

They nodded and you made the little journey left into King’s Landing. Armies stormed the streets and the fire hadn’t started yet and while you had hope, you were worried it was coming. Grey Wind raced through the streets until you found your men, Jon, Gendry, and Ser Davos leading them all along with the Unsullied. Lannister men were in their way— a tense standoff. Gendry and Jon were surprised to see you in front of them. You jumped down from Grey Wind and Gendry was immediately to you, hand on your stomach.

“Take our armies and go back to your camp.”

“You swore an allegiance to help Daenerys,” Grey Worm interjected.

You ignored him and looked at Gendry and Jon then at the Lannister army behind you. “Their swords are on the ground. Have they surrendered?”

“Yes,” Jon responded.

“Good, take them with you. And if any would like to go back to Winterfell or even Casterly Rock they are welcome to stay in our camp until we leave. You are done here.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Your allegiance—”

“Is to my Queen,” Jon cut Grey Worm off. “And that is not Daenerys.”

Bells started to ring and you shook your head. At first Northern men were smiling in relief but one look at their queen and they knew something else was wrong. Your grip on Gendry’s forearms tightened. You looked to the skies to try and find the large looming form of Drogon.

“Tell them to stop,” you said. “Tell them to stop ringing the bell.”

Your hands moved to cover your ears but the ringing could still be heard. You felt surrounded and soon the physical bells sounded like the ones of spirits and you knew what your Aunt’s choice would be. You looked past Gendry at Jon.

“Get the people out of here! As many as you—”

Fire. You all ducked as fire swept overhead, hitting the tops of buildings right around you. Grey Worm picked up his spear and threw it at the Lannister army— the Unsullied and even some Northern men resuming in fighting. Jon, Gendry, and Ser Davos rushed you to the side underneath the cover of another building as the men began a rampage. You organized as quickly and as efficiently as you could. The Northerners that hadn’t gone red with bloodlust listened to Ser Davos’ orders to sweep the streets before everyone was turned into ash.

Others went with Jon to stop the Unsullied from attacking more Lannister men, who were retreating, or innocent civilians now that Daenerys had declared war on all of them. Gendry went with you on Grey Wind as you tried to avoid the fire and race through the Red Keep. A puff of green caught your eye in the distance. Wildfire, the random spots left by Aerys were lighting up around the city. You and Gendry reached the Red Keep, not completely in shambles but parts of it damaged.

“Arya?” you questioned at the figure in the distance by the stairs.

Your sister straightened up and looked at you. You cleared the distance first to give her a hug.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if you were in the city or safe.”

“Daenerys—”

“I know. Jon is trying to get her to stop. They are helping people to safety. Where is the Hound?”

“He just left to fight his brother.”

“You and Gendry clear the people from the Keep before the fire reaches. Take Grey Wind with you, he’ll lead you back to me when you are finished.”

Arya nodded and gave you another hug before running off. Gendry stepped up to you again. His hands rubbed over your stomach as he looked over you. His lips mashed up against yours, not quite fitting properly together, before he followed Arya. You watched the three figures disappear before making your way up the stairs and into the castle.

~~

Cersei knew when it was time to retreat. There was an exit through the dungeons. She would leave there and live another day. Live another day to fight off the Dragon Queen. Her footsteps echoed against the concrete but abruptly stopped when she became aware that she wasn’t the only one making noise in the dungeon. Faint humming made her stop running and slowly walk, the humming turned into low singing.

“Only a cat of a different coat, that’s all the truth I know,” you began to sing as your fingers traced your bow. “In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws…”

You were sitting on the large dragon skull that you touched years ago. Cersei backed up when suddenly an arrow zipped past her, causing her to stop and turn back to you. She stood deathly still and you couldn’t help but smirk as you pointed an arrow at Cersei. It was like herding a sheep, she only moved when you made a motion.

“If you had had better control of your son, maybe we wouldn’t be here now,” you said.

“Please,” Cersei muttered.

“Are you here to beg for mercy? Bend the knee to me, ask me to be honorable? You should have left us alone, all the Starks ever wanted was to be left alone.”

“It was war.”

“I’ve heard your brother say that before. You know, Stark men don’t fare well when they come South. Luckily, I am not a man and we are no longer just Starks.”

Before she could say another word, you let the arrow fly. Cersei sunk to her knees as she clutched at her shoulder— you were careful not to aim directly for her heart. You slid down from the dragon skull, pulling out your sword. It scraped against the concrete as you dragged it.  

“Our House live by a code. The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword. Cersei Lannister, for your crimes against Westeros, I sentence you to die—”

“I am with child,” Cersei begged. “Let me live my life in the dungeons, I beg of you.”

“You’re pregnant?” you asked with eyebrows raised as she nodded frantically.“Who is the father?”

“Euron Greyjoy.”

Cersei watched your hand automatically go to your own stomach. “You are too, with child? You have a new lover?”

You nodded without much thought. “Gendry… Robert’s bastard.”

A chuckle escaped your lips as your words sunk in that Robert Baratheon was still haunting everyone in a way— his presence forever known. The chuckle erupted into laughter and soon Cersei joined you as she realized the same thing. The dungeon echoed with shrill laughter of women and then fell silent as Cersei’s head hit the floor, your sword making a clean cut through her neck. You bent down to where her head was.

“I am not Ned or Robb, I will not die by honor. A lesson the Lannisters taught me.”

You picked her head up by the hair and began to walk out of the dungeons. Grey Wind greeted you as you made your way to the main area again. Only Arya was with him.

“Sansa’s arrived.”

“Here.” You threw Arya Cersei’s head. “Let us greet the Dragon Queen and our guests.”

(end)...

[thelustybraavosimaid]

@doublehex.

You asked, I shall answer on a different post (as not to clog mummersblade's activity/post):

Did GRRM always plan on Jon being resurrected, or do you think lines like that one is just a coincidence? There are times that I think GRRM always planned on it, right from the start.

Yes, I really think he did. Let me find the quotes to kind of back this up:

Finally he looked north. He saw the Wall shining like blue crystal, and his bastard brother Jon sleeping alone in a cold bed, his skin growing pale and hard as the memory of all warmth fled from him. (Bran III, AGoT)

--

Chunks of coal burned in iron braziers at either end of the long room, but Jon found himself shivering. The chill was always with him here. In a few years he would forget what it felt like to be warm. (Jon III, AGoT)

--

“Yes, life,” Noye said. “A long life or a short one, it’s up to you, Snow. The road you’re walking, one of your brothers will slit your throat for you one night.” (Jon III, AGoT)

--

He saw the glint of steel, turned toward it. “No blades!” he screamed. “Wick, put that knife…”

…away, he meant to say. When Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the word turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. He cut me. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. “Why?”

“For the Watch.” Wick slashed at him again. (Jon XIII, ADwD)

Jon lost his life not just for Arya, but also from growing discontent with fellow Night's Watchmen, shown early on in ADwD and it's his inflexibility—and his involvement in the matters of the realm—that led to his demise. This line of Noye's especially seems to be foreshadowing enough for me, not dissimilar to Arya's "a wolf with a fish in its mouth?" quote.

The original outline mentions that there is a deadly rivalry, between Jon and Tyrion, over Arya. The dynamic is still there, but the members have been switched around. We've seen this enacted in the series (still with) Jon, but over "Arya" and with Ramsay (as he burned Winterfell, with the sieging "assistance" from Theon. There is obviously no real love, helpless or otherwise, between Jeyne and Ramsay, but as his wife, Ramsay claims possession of her). In a way, it is Ramsay's words and letter (assuming he wrote it) that also led to Jon's death.

Send them to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your black crows. Keep them from me, and I will cut out your bastard's heart and eat it. (Jon XIII, ADwD)

--

His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton's throat as easily. (Jon VI, ADwD)

...

I have my swords, thought Jon Snow, and we are coming for you, Bastard. (Jon XIII, ADwD)

I cannot help but feel that George always intended to make him test his vows - unsuccessfully in the beginning, hard decisions to make but ones that would ultimately allow him to go back and realise his duty, before he gets hit really hard with the final one, the deadly one.

So I think his intention was always to die and come back. And that's the importance of Melisandre staying on the Wall. (I feel like Jon is the *stone dragon* that R'hllor wants her to wake, but that is a conversation for a different time.)

My spells should suffice. She was stronger at the Wall, stronger even than in Asshai. Her every word and gesture was more potent, and she could do things that she had never done before. (Melisandre I, ADwD)

So since we established that Jon was, in my opinion, almost designed to die, there had to be some kind of workaround for him to return. What better way than with resurrection?

As he had criticised Tolkien for with Gandalf, his idea of returning would come with a twist.

Even less likely is that he came up with Jon being killed and resurrected while he was writing ADWD. He starts to lay down the foreshadowing real thick in that book, so that could be evidence that he needed to lay the train tracks as the train was coming to town.

Yeah, I would even go so far as to say that he began the death imagery and hints for Jon in AGoT:

Jon shook his head. "No one. The castle is always empty." He had never told anyone of the dream, and he did not understand why he was telling Sam now, yet somehow it felt good to talk of it. "Even the ravens are gone from the rookery, and the stables are full of bones. That always scares me. I start to run then, throwing open doors, climbing the tower three steps at a time, screaming for someone, for anyone. And then I find myself in front of the door to the crypts. It's black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down. Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don't want to. I'm afraid of what might be waiting for me. The old Kings of Winter are down there, sitting on their thrones with stone wolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps, but it's not them I'm afraid of. I scream that I'm not a Stark, that this isn't my place, but it's no good, I have to go anyway, so I start down, feeling the walls as I descend, with no torch to light the way. It gets darker and darker, until I want to scream." He stopped, frowning, embarrassed. "That's when I always wake." (Jon IV, AGoT)

There's a lot waiting down there for him - Ned, Lyanna, perhaps? Information about his parentage? But also death.

There's an interesting theory that the crypts serve as an in-between of life and death, which is why Rickon and Bran dreamt of Ned down in the crypts even before the raven came with the announcement that he had died.

The names of the direwolves also are important. The fact that we know that wargs and skinchangers live on in their bonded companions gives credence to Ghost's name.

I'm not so sure about this, as I think the biggest reason he has Lady Stoneheart and Berric Dondarion is to set up Jon's resurrection, but there is still the chance he connected all those three characters together after he wrote ASOS.

Yep! He talked about this before, actually:

And, ehh, he’s more or less the same as always, except he’s more powerful. It always felt a little bit like a cheat to me. And as I got older and considered it more, it also seemed to me that death doesn’t make you more powerful. That’s, in some ways, me talking to Tolkien in the dialogue, saying, “Yeah, if someone comes back from being dead, especially if they suffer a violent, traumatic death, they’re not going to come back as nice as ever.” That’s what I was trying to do, and am still trying to do, with the Lady Stoneheart character.

And Jon Snow, too, is drained by the experience of coming back from the dead on the show.

Right. And poor Beric Dondarrion, who was set up as the foreshadowing of all this, every time he’s a little less Beric. His memories are fading, he’s got all these scars, he’s becoming more and more physically hideous, because he’s not a living human being anymore. His heart isn’t beating, his blood isn’t flowing in his veins, he’s a wight, but a wight animated by fire instead of by ice, now we’re getting back to the whole fire and ice thing.

George describes Lady Stoneheart in this same interview as "a vengeful wight who galvanizes a group of people around her and is trying to exact her revenge on the riverlands."

Jon will be different in the sense that he is a warg and has a shield against what's causing Stoneheart and Beric's deteriorations—Ghost—but being a warg has its perils as well:

"They say you forget," Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. "When the man's flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains." (Prologue, ADwD)

As Jon is the only main character warg who actually died, this passage is meant to be about him.

[jackoshadows]

In the books:

Wex stole after the two, a woman and a boy. He must have stayed downwind, so the wolf would not catch his scent."

"He knows where they went," Lord Wyman said.

Davos understood. "You want the boy."

"Roose Bolton has Lord Eddard's daughter. To thwart him White Harbor must have Ned's son … and the direwolf. The wolf will prove the boy is who we say he is, should the Dreadfort attempt to deny him. That is my price, Lord Davos. Smuggle me back my liege lord, and I will take Stannis Baratheon as my king." - Davos, ADwD

GRRM interview:

He was asked where is Rickon and what will happen to him (a reader who forgot a part of ADWD it seems). GRRM said Rickon will appear in TWOW.

GRRM about Osha, SSM, Deeper than Swords: 26 Mar 2014 (its around the 56 min mark)

Q: Can you think of instances in seeing these portrayals, the actor’s take that gave you a new perspective?

GRRM: When Osha comes back in the books, it’s possible, I haven’t actually gotten to it yet that she will be influenced by what I’ve seen, that I will write a more interesting character.

Unicorns in TWoW, SSM: Neil DeGrasse Tyson's Startalk: 17 May 2019

Unicorns will appear in TWOW and GRRM will have a "unique" take on them

GRRM SSM,  8 Sept 2014

Q: Let us quote J. K. Rowling, queen of fantasy: “Fantasy has its own laws. Some things are prohibited. No sex near unicorns. ”

A: There are unicorns in my next book, and probably sex not far from unicorns. There's a lot of sex in "The Iron Throne" despite the dragons.

GRRM notes while writing season 4 of GOT, Vanity fair article:

Speaking of which: Martin leaves a little note for the producers when writing about Ramsay’s flesh-eating hounds, whom we see hunting down a girl for sport.

[N.B. A note for future reference. A season or two down the line Ramsay’s pack of wolfhounds are going to be sent against the Stark direwolves, so we should build up the dogs as much as possible in this and subsequent episodes]

This is the alignment of houses in the North:

Houses supporting the Boltons: Frey, Dustin and Ryswell. Manderly (Fake), Umber, Locke, Hornwood, Stout, Cerwyns, Tallharts, Slates  - all most probably not loyal to the Boltons

Northern houses with Stannis Baratheon, fighting to free Arya Stark: Mountain clans - Flints, Norreys, Wulls and Liddles, Glover, Mormont, Umber, Karstark (Fake)

Note: Manderly has promised that he will be leige lord to Stannis if Davos gets him Rickon. Many of Roose’s bannermen (Umber is seen talking to Manderly, Stout consults with Umber etc.) maybe aware of what Manderly is planning and know about Rickon Stark.

House Glover is also interesting. Sybelle Glover declares for Stannis after he defeats the Iron Born at Deepwood Motte. Robett Glover is plotting with Manderly at White Harbor with respect to Rickon.  Arya Stark helps free Robett Glover and other Northmen at Harrenhal. Galbart Glover is in the Neck with Robb’s decree legitimizing Jon Snow and naming him KITN.

This is the current weather in the North in ADwD:

“Lord Stannis is lost in the storm,” said Lady Dustin. “He’s leagues away, dead or dying. Let winter do its worst. A few more days and the snows will bury him and his army both.” - A ghost in Winterfell, ADwD

---

The first flakes came drifting down as the sun was setting in the west. By nightfall snow was coming down so heavily that the moon rose behind a white curtain, unseen. -  The Turncloak, ADwD

---

The yard was a white wilderness, full of half-heard sounds that echoed strangely amidst the storm.The icy trenches rose around them, knee high, then waist high, then higher than their heads.They were in the heart of Winterfell with the castle all around them, but no sign of it could be seen.They might have easily been lost amidst the Land of Always Winter,a thousand leagues beyond the Wall. - Theon, ADwD

---

Lord Bolton unrolled the parchment. “His host lies not three days’ ride from here, snowbound and starving, and I for one am tired of waiting on his pleasure.” - Theon, ADwD 

---

“The gods have turned against us,” old Lord Locke was heard to say in the Great Hall. “This is their wroth. A wind as cold as hell itself and snows that never end. We are cursed.” -  A Ghost in Winterfell, ADwD

---

By the ninth day of the storm, every camp saw the captains and commanders entering the king's tent wet and weary...and report their losses for the day.

The fifteenth day of the march came and went, and they had crossed less than half the distance.

On the twenty-sixth day...the last of the vegetables was consumed...On the thirty-second day, the last of the grain and fodder. - The Sacrifice, ADwD

---

Justin Massey looked up from his horsemeat. “The cold count last night reached eighty.” He pulled a piece of gristle from his teeth and flicked it to the nearest dog. “If we march, we will die by the hundreds.”

“We had eight hundred horses when we marched from Deepwood Motte. Last night the count was sixty-four.” That did not shock her. Almost all of their big destriers had failed, including Massey's own. Most of their palfreys were gone as well. Even the garrons of the northmen were faltering for want of fodder - The Sacrifice, ADwD

---

“Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks.” - The King’s Prize, ADwD

---

We had expected to find the king at Winterfell. This same blizzard has engulfed the castle, alas. Beneath its walls we found Mors Umber with a troop of raw green boys, waiting for the king’s coming.” - The Sacrifice, ADwD

---

The snow was following heavily outside."Wind's from the south," Yarwick observed. It's blowing the snow right up against the Wall.See?

He was right.The switchback stair was buried almost to the first landing, Jon saw, and the wooden doors of the ice cells and storerooms had vanished behind a wall of white - Jon, ADwD

This is the state of things in the North before actual Winter hits, which happens at the end of ADwD. Winter is not coming anymore, it is here in the books. This is Arya warging Nymeria in the Riverlands:

Her nights were lit by distant stars and the shimmer of moonlight on snow, but every dawn she woke to darkness. 

------

"What three new things do you know, that you did not know before?"

"I know that some men are saying that Tormo Fregar will surely be the new sealord," she answered. "Some drunken men."

"Better. And what else do you know?"

It is snowing in the riverlands, in Westeros, she almost said. - The Blind Girl, ADwD

---

The castle dominated the broad fertile valley that maps and men alike called Blackwood Vale. A vale it was, beyond a doubt, but no wood had grown here for several thousand years, be it black or brown or green. Once, yes, but axes had long since cleared the trees away. Homes and mills and holdfasts had risen where once the oaks stood tall. The ground was bare and muddy, and dotted here and there with drifts of melting snow. - Jaime, ADwD

And finally KL:

"On the window seat a raven loitered, pale, huge, its feathers ruffled. It was the largest raven that Kevan Lannister had ever seen. Larger than any hunting hawk at Casterly Rock, larger than the largest owl. Blowing snow danced around it, and the moon painted it silver.

Not silver. White. The bird is white.

The white ravens of the Citadel did not carry messages, as their dark cousins did. When they went forth from Oldtown, it was for one purpose only: to herald a change of seasons.

"Winter," said Ser Kevan. The word made a white mist in the air. - epilogue, ADwD

Just a reminder that Rickon Stark and his direwolf are important and will be important in TWoW. One of the richest and most powerful houses in the North is backing Rickon Stark as Lord of Winterfell. Without Bran there, Rickon is the rightful heir to the North. Other Northerners in play include the Mountain clans marching for Arya Stark and the folks who know of and have Robb’s decree. And various Northern houses and clans are doing their own plotting to put a Stark in Winterfell.

Also a reminder that Stannis is stranded in a snow storm 3 days from Winterfell.

Marching from the Vale all the way to Winterfell in these harsh snowstorms,  with a Vale army - who have no experience with the harsh conditions of the North - is near impossible.

Davos, Rickon, Shaggydog and Osha are certainly going to get to WF faster than Sansa and an army. Rickon has an actual Direwolf - the symbol of house Stark. House Stark follows male-preference primogeniture law of inheritance.

The Vale have their own problems brewing with winter here. Aegon has landed in the Stormlands, there is trouble in the Riverlands and KL is in chaos. Is the army going to abandon the Vale and go North in the harshest Winterstorms, experiencing huge loss of lives just to get Sansa to Winterfell?

The show is not the books. Nonsensical show plots don’t belong in the books. I will let just leave GRRM’s own words here:

In a convention panel this year, George said on the record that he had no idea what they were doing with Sansa or where they’re taking her storyline, which now makes sense perhaps.

[softsan]

NCT WEREWOLF AU (jaemin)

🖇Unsolved Love (pt.2)

MASTERLIST

PARTS: | 01 | 02 | 03 |

WOLF PROFILES | Y/N’S NAMES

GENRE: Werewolf AU, Mystery, Mermaid AU

QUOTE: “He had unanswered questions which he had dwelled on, an unexplained hollowness that had left him discontent. It is as if he lost something that day, but what?”

WARNINGS: Graphic scenes of violence, Blood,

The dampened parchment slipped between your fingers. You cursed, your eyes scanning frantically forth, deciphering as much as you could before the wet ink smeared to mush. You were aboard an enemy ship, gathering as much intel you possible could before your existence was discovered.  

"Men!" The sea captain commanded his crew, "Find the one that dares trespass upon our vessel."  

You cursed, overhearing the heavy boots clobber over the deck above. If you didn't flee now, they would discover exactly what you were after.  

You pulled back the long sleeve of your midnight cloak, your fingers looping into the candle's holder. You lifted it from the adjacent trunk, the candle's wick drooping, lighting a shadow across your face. With little time to waste, you scoured through the last few items in the chest. You held up the wooden handle, a golden stamp at its end. You titled your head curiously. The stamp was used to imprint a crest of sorts into a letter's wax seal.  

"Has anyone looked in the under quarters?"  

You quickly shoveled the stamp into your deep pockets before blowing out the candle. You wandered in darkness, your sight better than most. You waited until the staircase was clear, slipping back on deck. The sailors were in a fluster, searching behind barrels and hoisting up sails.

You silently proceed, inching against the dank wall of the ship's cabin. You carefully peered around the corner, keeping your body hidden.

"And who do we have here?" A gruff voice startled you.  

You stiffened under the sharp blade that was pressed against the side of your throat. The man jerked down your hood, your locks fumbling down to your shoulders.  

"Woman?" He said with a tone of distaste.  

He forcibly grasped your arm, shoving you out into the open, "I've found the trespasser," He announced to the rest of the crew.  

The men gathered, some staring your down with lecherous sneers.  

"Speak," The tallest came forth. He was wearing a captain's hat.  

You didn't budge, your lips forming a thin line.

"Shall we make you talk then?" He raised a fist.  

You let out a scoff, they could try, but it'd take a lot more than brute force to break you.  

"Her eyes," One sailor spoke.  

Immediately, you lowered your gaze.

They began to murmur amongst themselves, the captain calling for silence.  

The blade beside your neck pressed harder, "This knife is made of silver, one slit, and you'd be dead."  

Your mouth dried. They knew your weakness after all.  

"Keep her away from the ends of the ship. Once she touches water, she'll be gone."  

The captain was a lot more informed than you had initially thought. Nonetheless, they didn't quite realize just the extent of your powers. Your eyes flashed, their eerie coloring, while your pupils dilated. You centered on a man in the crowd. As soon as he lifted his eyes, you caught him in your spell.  

"Take out your sword." You instructed.

Helpless to do otherwise, the man unsheathed his sword. His peers stepped aback with perplexed looks on their faces.  

"Rodger, what are you doing?" One demanded.  

"As I tell him." You replied swiftly.  

"Do you intend for my crew to fight each other?" The captain's stance hardened, "One man under your control is nothing against us all."  

He was eluding you would lose. After all, while out of the water, control over one person would be your limit.

"Put the sword against your neck," You told, "If this blade slices my neck, then you are to slice yours."  

The man under your compulsion did as you ordered—his sword resting underneath his chin.

"Sea witch."  

"She is pure evil," Another whispered.

The silver blade at your throat trembled. You thrust your elbow back, the man grunting leaving an opening. You fled to the rear of the boat, your ribboned slippers coming undone. You kicked them off your feet as you climbed on the plank. You swiveled around on the thin timber that extended out to the ocean.

"Send the king my regards," You stretched out your arms, diving overboard.  

"Man, the cannons," They shouted, running to their stations.

You kicked your legs, descending deeper into the dark below. The roar of cannons erupted in the air. They bore into the waves, with their mighty power, lighting the ocean orange when they exploded.  

You hissed as debris and shrapnel lodged themselves into your back.  

───

Jaemin was captivated by the singsong of the moon's call. He gazed upon the sea of stars, his paws sinking into the rich dirt below. His prance slowed to a walk. He was alone in the forest depths in a place all too familiar, yet not familiar at all.

He couldn't explain it. Why did he always return to this spot? Underneath, the green foliage between the great oak trees which towered to the skies.  

Decades ago, after being ambushed, he had jumped into the watery abyss, and the next thing he knew, we were lying in this very spot. He had unanswered questions which he had dwelled on, an unexplained hollowness that had left him discontent. It is as if he lost something that day, but what?  

His ears twitched, tuning to the tides that scaled up the shore. If he strayed further, his feet would meet the sand. It was where the wicked woods met the savory seas.  

Jaemin sucked in a breath, the smells of seaweed and saltwater drifting up to his nostrils.

I knew I'd find you here. Renjun's voice broke Jaemin from his trance.

Renjun emerged from a bush of blackberries.  

Am I that obvious? Jaemin teased.  

Renjun's white coat glistened under the moonlight, his golden eyes gleaming as he approached. Like Jaemin, Renjun was having trouble sleeping.  

You still stuck on this place, aren't you?  

You're still having those dreams, aren't you? Jaemin countered. 

Renjun remained quiet. The two of them sat in comfortable silence. Hopefully, they'd receive answers to their questions sooner than later..  

───

You staggered, your palm reaching for a tree branch to steady yourself. Your breath came out uneven, the hot stinging of your back worsening with each day that passed. You were driven to the heart of the forest, away from the sea. You were certain you had lost the hunters that trailed you, however in your endeavors for safety, you had gotten lost in the endless maze of trees.  

You huddled to the ground, your knees aching. How long had you been walking? How long had it been since your last meal? You leaned into the small rocky stream, splashing fresh water over your face. You rubbed your eyes, your reflection staring back at you.  

The turquoise color of your eyes had dissipated to a human hue. You were growing weaker, reverting to be humanlike.

I need to get back to the ocean.  You needed to be around saltwater for your powers to regenerate.  

You crawled back to your feet, unsure of what direction to go in. The birds chirped from above, a cold gust brushing the leaves of the trees. Nightfall was coming. You decided to continue following the stream.  

As the skies darkened and the moon raised, you grew weary. Perhaps you should find shelter for the evening?  

A fearsome howl echoed; gooseflesh appeared on your arms. You bent down a branch that skewed your field of view. Ahead was clearing, an open field of clover. There was a large manor, too, well-constructed of stone.  

Your stomach growled, could there possibly be food in there? Usually, you would have never risked setting foot in a wolf's den, but you were desperate. You tugged your torn hood shielding your face. You strode closer to the manor.

It was quiet. Maybe they're not home?

You heaved on the oval door handle. To your surprise, it wasn't locked. You pushed onto the door. It creaked open as you slid inside.  

To your luck, you were greeted by a kitchen. You shuffled through draws and cupboards, searching for anything to devour. Under a tin, you found a loaf of bread. The loaf was spliced in four quarters. You held up one of the quarters, sinking your teeth into the dough. You groaned with delight, taking another bite. 

"Who the hell are you?" A booming voice made you jump.  

You shoved the rest of the bread in your pockets of your dirt-stained dress. You dashed in the opposite direction. The wolf caught you with little effort, its strong arms hurling you off the ground.  

"Let me go," You struggled, focusing the last of your energy in your eyes.

"Not until you telling what your in doing here," The wolf snapped, your compulsion ineffective.  

It was hopeless. You were too weak. You kicked your legs in one last-ditch attempt.  

Others came running down the stairs. You counted five men and one woman. The women went the sconce to alight the oil lamps, the room illuminated by a pale yellow.  

Jaemin had come down due to the commotion. He masked a yawn with the back of his hand, furiously blinking to see what was going on.

"What's with all the fuss, Johnny?"

Jaemin froze a tantalizing scent wafting through the air. He took a couple more deep breaths, his fingers tingling with excitement.

"Let me go," You cursed.

Jaemin's eyes enlarged, his chest pounding with anticipation. You lifted your head, your hood slipping down.

"Who is she?" Taeyong stepped forward, his presence commanding respect.

"I don't know," Johnny responded, still holding you over the countertop.

You dug your nails into the arm Johnny was holding you with. He flinched, his eyes flashing crimson.

Jaemin's own eyes changed, a threatening growl escaping his throat. The rest of the room fell silent, Johnny's brows raised in surprise.

"Jaemin?" Haechan cautiously asked.

"Put her down."

Johnny and Taeyong exchanged looks.

Jaemin? Your eyes fell on the young wolf beside the staircase. Your jaw trembled in horror. It couldn't possibly be the same wolf you had met all those years ago?

Johnny's arm sagged as he placed your back onto the ground. You fell back against the counter, using it to support yourself.

"Jaemin?" Taeyong strode closer, placing a hand on Jaemin's shoulder, "Is she your-"

Mate.

The word went unsaid.

Eve came closer to you. She offered you her hand.

You stared at her hand, unsure what the lady wanted from you.

"My name is Eve," Her lips tilted into a sincere smile, "You've come a long way, haven't you?"

You slowly nodded.

"Come on then," She offered her hand again, "Let's get you washed up and in a fresh pair of clothes."

Your face softened. It sounded too good to be true. Additmitidly, you were a little unused to humans not being afraid in your presence.

"It's okay," She soothed, "We won't hurt you."

You hesitantly placed your hand in hers. She squeezed your hand in reassurance before leading your upstairs.  

Jaemin couldn't take his eyes off you. He nearly went to follow you just so he'd remain in your presence.

Johnny let out a laugh in disbelief, "I waited close to five hundred years to find my mate, and here Jaemin's mate just comes waltzing through the front door."

Taeyong cracked a smile.

My mate, Jaemin couldn't stifle down his buzz. His inner beast rumbling, he had finally found the one.

"I should talk to her," Jaemin suddenly realized he hadn't even said a word to you yet.

"Let her settle in a bit." Taeyong advised.

───

You soaked in the bathwater, dabbing a wet cloth over your face and neck. It felt good to wash and rest your limbs. However, your back still stung. You reached behind, trying to dig out the debris which remained lodged in your back. You winced, blood pooling in the tub.

"Are you nearly done?" Eve called from behind the door.

"Almost," You let out a ragged breath, giving up.

You wrapped yourself with a towel, patting yourself dry. You then drapped yourself with your torn cloak.

Eve ushered you into one of the bedrooms. She had already laid out a chiffon nightgown and a pair of night slippers for your to wear.

"Thank you," You said shyly.

She brushed of your thanks, telling you to call her if you need anything. She then left you alone to change.

It took you some time to fit the material on, your back giving you agony.

Jaemin clamped onto the tray of food, his hands clammy. He never thought he'd be so nervous meeting his mate. He knocked his fist on the wooden door of his bedroom.

He heard your delicate footsteps head towards the door. You opened it slightly, peering through the small crack you had made.

"Hi," Jaemin beamed, "I thought you might be hungry."

You bit your lip, your stomach rumbling. You were starving.

"Can I come in?"

You opened the door a little bigger, nodding.

Jaemin swallowed. You wore but a simple nightgown. It's thin material laying over your curves and leaving your legs on display.

You had an undoubtable beauty, a beauty which was almost ethereal-like.

He handed you the tray. You licked your lips, taking a seat on the bed. You lifted the spoon and began slurping the soup.

Once you had finished the bowl, you wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

"I can get some more from downstairs if you'd like?"

Your eyes fell on Jaemin's, his golden orbs shining down at you. It was hard to believe fifty years had passed since you had saved him from drowing. Your sight flickered momentarily to his lips. You could almost remember how he tasted.

"That's okay, I've taken enough advantage of your hospitality."

Jaemin shook his head, his hair adorably sticking up in places. Without thinking, you patted down on his hair.

Jaemin's chest swelled as you retreated your hand, embarrassed.

His sweet, all-consuming mate, where had you been all his life?

MONI’S NOTE: Werewolf Jaemin's second installment. I hope you all enjoy it. If you do, please consider reading the other member's parts. They are all a part of the same universe, and you may even notice some cross-over between them.

Taglist: @dawnfeather | @chckencarlyn | @liendoesja | @peachescherryheart | @milkteajuseyo | @wykynct | @edgy-harrie | @moonylvi, @lovestrucked-again​| @changbinniez-princess | @jaeshatshop | @leetaesnow | @hoshitaro |  @4-sun​| @2-cute-4-school  

If you’d like to be tagged in this fic please send me a message.

[terresdebrume]

[ID : A book cover where the background is a picture of a deep blue starry sky. At the top is the title in brushstroke-like white letters, and below that are representations of the seven liberal arts placed in a circle : Astronomy (7th Art) with simple representation of the solar system, then Grammar (1st) with a scroll of parchment covered in writing, Rhetoric (2nd) with a bearded man's head, Logic (3rd) with a circular labyrinth, Arithmetics (4th) with an abacus, Geometry (5th) with a spiral + construction lines and Music (6th) with flying notes and a scale. All symbols are in while lines. In the bottom left corner, the darker silhouette of a wolf howls at a brilliant star in the center of the cover. The quote "'You said you missed it,' Geralt said, 'I don't...I don't know things like geometry, I've never read the Almagest, but I know a few things.'" is at the bottom of the cover in white letters. /ID]

And I'm going to put the rest of the text under a cut for this one, 'cause it's gonna get long xD

More fic covers | More fic recs | AO3 link in reblog

So now that I've gotten a little more into the habit of making covers and got a little more skilled about it, I simply couldn't not cover Star_flaming/ @europeansdomusicalsbetter's The Sevenfold Path on account of it hitting so hard on my competence kink and also my immense love for Geralt and his tendency to be blind to his own qualities and smarts. (Also just like. Great demonstration of Jaskier's genius, thank you Author for showing off your own academic accomplishments^^)

I decided to put astronomy at the top of the circle despite the fact that it would normally be reserved for the first item of the list, because astronomy is the one where Geralt and Jaskier rejoin in that Geralt finds it easier to relate his knowledge to Jaskier's studies, and the background is a starry night because it fits both the choice of astronomy as the "main" art of the cover and the loveliest scene of the fic (and not just 'cause there's a kiss). Also, stars pretty.

The howling wolf silhouette is there for several reasons, but the main one is that it reminds me of a small moment in Disney's Pocahontas. During the song Colors of the wind, there's this shot that shows clouds over a starry night making the silhouette of a howling wolf, and in the French version the lyrics for this shot are "Do you hear the hopeful song of the pining wolf?" (Literally "Do you hear the song of hope of the wolf who's dying of love?") and it fits so well with Geralt's symbolism in this fic it just...had to be there. So yeah, that's a small nod to that. Also, the cover looks more generic without it.

Aaand...that's a lot of ranting for one cover, but also this may be the one I put the most forethought in, and also the most symbolic one I've made so far along with the one I made for my Clark Kent-centric epic, so a bit of explanation is sort of justified, I guess. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy the cover and the fic!

[iomhair]

Robb x Jaime headcanons

And since those two is pretty much all I can think about on a daily basis - here are some headcanons for Robb and Jaime just because I need them to be here <3 

During the war Robb’s curls are getting absolutely out of hand. They are messy, they are tangled, they have to be sheared for once. Or brushed at the very least. Jaime says it’s a bird’s nest. Robb snarls and says that his hair is fine. Secretly he will try to do something about them. 

Robb’s face is insanely expressive. 

Jaime’s not so much. He at least tries to hide his emotions. 

Does not really work very well. Everything is in his eyes. Everything.

Robb loves Jaime’s eyes, loves the colour, loves every emotion that he sees reflected there.  

Jaime has learnt to use it to his benefit.

Robb has a very keen scent. Jaime is amused by this and for him it is just another proof of Robb being raised in a pack of direwolves. Starks are savages, for sure.

Robb is smart, but sometimes he is really not. Like at all. He does not even consider all the dangers of King’s Landing because he got used to trust someone’s word. Just like Ned did. Jaime freaks out when they are in the capital, he still remembers what happens to all Starks within these walls. He will not let that happen again.

When Jaime sees Robb talking to Littlefinger or Varys, he is absolutely terrified. He will intrude, he will grab Robb and he will drag him out from the conversation this very second. He does not care how suspicious it looks. He will care later though.

If it was up to Jaime, he’d keep Robb locked up and he would let him out only when Robb’s men are finally returning back to Winterfell with all his Northern army.

Robb feels uneasy in King’s Landing. Jaime knows it. The nights they spend together he sometimes asks Robb to tell him about Winterfell and the North. Robb loves to talk about his home. He smiles and his eyes sparkle. These talks make him feel better. Jaime makes Robb feel better.

Jaime loves Robb’s accent. And Robb loves the way Jaime speaks. 

Especially when Jaime calls his name. Not “Your Grace” like everyone else. Not even “My Lord”. Just “Robb”. Quiet, loud, calm, whispering, laughing, moaning, anything. Even when angry. 

Although when angry Jaime calls him “Stark”. Only Jaime can make it sound like a swear word. Eventually Robb learned this trick as well. The effect was quite the opposite though. 

The way Robb growls “Lannisterrrr” and wrinkles his nose makes Jaime feel all sorts of things. He is not angry with Robb anymore. In fact, he will let Robb have an indulgence for today.

Robb is very curious about Jaime’s past. He asks him about his knighthood days, tournaments, his life at Casterly Rock, about the Targaryen reign and the last dragons. He wants to know everything.

Robb strives to be as disciplined as Jaime. When needed, and even when not needed, Jaime Lannister is damn stoic. No, seriously. Disciplined bastard. Must have been an army experience. Robb hates it. He also loves it. 

Robb has very little patience. Especially when it comes to teasing. Jaime knows it and uses it every time when he thinks he can get away with it. Big surprise: he does not really want to get away with it. 

Jaime is not fond of North to put it lightly. But he will learn to love it for Robb. Soon he’ll find it quite comforting. One day he will even visit Godswood that would be covered in snow. North grew on Jaime and he did not even notice it. 

When sleeping, Robb is taking the whole bed, it’s not even a question. Jaime does not mind, he likes to warm himself up against Robb, he is like a personal fireplace, always warm.

Jaime would be very intimidated by Grey Wind at first. Which is understandable since this is the huge ass direwolf. That is until one time he comes to Jaime and falls on the back with the quiet sigh, demanding belly scratches. 

When Robb is angry with Jaime he is using Grey Wind as a post dog. He’d give give him the parchment with the elaborate angry message and ask to bring it to the Lannister. Or not bring. Whatever, really. What does he care. Grey Wind always brings them to Jaime. He then stays for more scratches.

Jaime is a snuggler. He is very affectionate and devoted when there is just the two of them. He never shies to smile or laugh when he is with Robb. Robb loves to see him happy. 

Robb is taking his title extremely seriously. This was a huge responsibility out of damn nowhere and he was definitely not ready for it. Eventually it grows on him. Jaime tells him that it’s similar to just being the Lord of Winterfell, only on a bigger scale. Like.. imagine the whole North is Winterfell. And Robb cares about Winterfell. He’ll do just fine.

Robb would absolutely disintegrate house Locke, ripping it out with its routes. Not even Boltons. Their name will disappear. Every memory of them will disappear. But Jaime will decide what to do with the head of the house.

Robb values Jaime’s advice. A lot. He is the part of his council, his right hand, he is always there, and his every advice and observation are always considered, no questions asked. The final word always stays with Robb though. He is the King.

Robb really likes when Jaime compares him to the wolf. On some level he really is, as wild and untamed as a true predator. 

Robb gave Jaime a Valyrian steel sword as a gift, because of course he would. They have very similar swords that were melted from one. Yep. Jaime’s sword has a lion on the handle, and Robb’s has a wolf. 

Robb Stark is a romantic. There, screw it, I said it. 

Robb x Jaime modern headcanons:

Scotland. Of course Robb is from Scotland.

Jaime would sigh every time he even has to think of the nasty mess that is Glasgow.

Every time Robb comes to London he makes it a damn point to speak with the strongest accent ever. Posh folks from London, Lannisters included, do not quite understand him. Jaime still does though. 

Robb is feisty. One night he’ll have too many drinks and will start a brawl in the center of London only because he thought that someone said something nasty behind Jaime’s back. 

Robb loves borrowing Jaime’s clothes. T-shirts, hoodies, anything will do. Secretly Jaime loves to do the same. Jaime’s clothes is more clean. 

Whenever Robb visits Jaime, he always brings a bottle of good scotch from the airport. Surprisingly, at some point, all the whiskey in Lannister’s house was switched to the American bourbon. Robb does not quite like it. But hey, better that than the stab in the back from Tywin. Although it kinda felt like it.

Robb has a BMW motorcycle. He is a damn good driver. It does not make Jaime feel easier though, since motorcycles are dangerous. He specifically forbade Robb to park his motorcycle anywhere near Lannister’s manor. He knows his family better than Robb does and he knows what they can do. 

They both have big families with complicated relationships. This is kind of a problem, for Jaime especially.

Robb does not really care what others will say. Jaime thinks it’s because he is young yet. It’s not though. Robb truly does not care. He likes to be honest in his intentions and hates hiding Jaime from everyone. 

He does a very bad job at hiding though. Everybody knows at this point. The reactions... vary. 

Robb knows and loves most of the hiking routes in Scotland. Jaime thinks that this is crazy. He does not quite like hiking or any similar activities. The wine tasting on a nice boat though, right by the southern France... Now we talking. 

Jaime loves the warmth. Summer suits him, just as autumn and winter suits Robb. 

Sometimes Jaime thinks that Robb is some sort of fey that came out from the old Gaelic legends. Especially in the mornings when he watches Robb sleeping. It should be a full crime to be this beautiful.

Robb is good at cooking. Very good and efficient. Not surprisingly, really, if you have house full of younger siblings and their pets, who are constantly hungry. And Robb was raised to be a damn good big brother who will never leave little Starks hungry even if they have to eat burned porridge. 

Jaime finds it quite odd and a bit worrisome that most all of the local pub owners near Edinburgh know Robb and greet him heartily whenever they visit a pub. Back in London Jaime’s visits to the restaurants are a bit more formal. Lannisters have a certain reputation. He can’t just barge into a random place and get drunk there. He wants to though. 

They love Starks in the North. Stark’s sigils are quite common there.  

Once Robb came into Jaime’s house with the bag of fresh muffins and coffee from Starbucks. It was 5 AM. He spent the last couple of hours in the train from Glasgow to London St.Pancrass.

Robb threw stones into his window and loudly quoted Shakespeare, very amused with himself. 

Jaime was not sure if he wanted to kiss Robb after that or to kill him right there. 

Robb is not a fan of London.

But Jaime made sure to show him the best of it. 

Hugo Boss store in Soho was one of the stops. Robb really likes dressing up nicely. And Jaime knows it.

Since then Robb even have a couple of favourite places in the city. Nothing to do with the stores though. 

Robb hates leaving London. When he does, he prefers doing it by train. Somehow it feels less painful. 

He cheers up as soon as he sees road signs in Gaelic. 

Once Jaime just said “fuck it” and jumped to the train with Robb. He did not have anything with him, not even a wallet. Not even a ticket. The things he does for love.

Robb was shocked, but his smile could probably light up the whole station, if not the whole city.

This was the best train ride that Robb ever had in his life, although Jaime napped on his shoulder almost all the way.  

[dailyspiceandwolf]

“That being said, the world is like a river. You can never go as straight as you like." He turned around, and the expression on the captain's face was not smug, nor did it sneer at the ideals of a young man. It was that of a hermit who had weathered a great many things and tried to play them off calmly. "But those periodic twists and turns give fish a place to live.”

[tothedarkdarkseas]

Ink, diary, backstory, carnegie, dickinson, and parchment for the ask meme. Love you too

Ink and Diary - see previous ask!

backstory: how did you come to love writing?

(*Thinks* Do I love writing...?) You know, this probably reflects quite poorly on me, but I'm not sure what the best answer here is. I wrote bits of fanfiction here and there when I was younger, and I also drew fanart-- until I realized I wasn't very good at either of those things. I hadn't written anything in at least 7 years when I started writing Gorillaz, mostly off the back of my inspiration from reading Yearz and obsessing over a scummier, more realistic universe for these characters. The truth is that it wasn't quite a childhood dream or lifelong passion, it was something I stopped when I became too embarrassed by my lack of skill, and picked up again simply because I felt compelled to do it-- and indeed, like any creative pursuit, you do get better the more you do it. I would absolutely say I've rediscovered a passion for writing and I do like to entertain certain ambitions of writing a collection of short stories, but I'm also not hard-nosed in dedication to that goal. I have always loved stories, but that wasn't strictly in regard to written stories, often it was more of a love for movies and music which inspired little imagined scenarios; I wasn't always a voracious reader nor did I frequently write anything to fruition, which seems like it disqualifies me from being an authority on those things.

carnegie: what authors and/or books/stories have inspired you to write or influenced your work?

As mentioned previously, I really wasn't a voracious reader. In fact, this was and is a source of some humiliation-- having not read the classics or other things that people know and respect can make you feel like the dimmest person in the room. The awkwardness of these conversations is honestly something that motivated me to read a bit more recently, but even that was more focused on poetry and essay collections. My go-to answer is generally Joey Comeau, probably most evident in his queer-punk stories Lockpick Pornography and We All Got It Coming, but also his more gentle lingering on grief Malagash and the offbeat and sporadically poignant collection Overqualified. (I really loved Overqualified at the time it came out, so it has a special place in my heart.) I've recently read two poetry collections which gave me a little boost to begin working: Calling a Wolf a Wolf by Kaveh Akbar and A Fortune for Your Disaster by Hanif Abdurraqib. And I'd be remiss not to mention-- Yearz. Like, it surely embarrasses Danni for me to say that but it is the simple truth.

dickinson: what insecurities do you have about your own writing? what do you think you should improve on?

Sheesh, where to start? All of it, quite plainly, I don't think there is any element which could not be improved on. I always felt that I struggled with dialogue and making it sound natural, but if I were naming the damning culprit I would say my writing is more bogged down by the overwriting and underediting. I remember being younger and feeling a bit defensive of "purple prose" because subconsciously I knew I was very prone to it. To be frank, when I write a story more quickly and don't embellish much in the detail I always feel it is too sparse and not distinct, I fear it isn't saying anything that makes it unique to me-- but those stories seem to be the ones that have "performed" the best based on recent stats, which confirms that I definitely overthink this, haha. The problem as I see it is that these, er, lofty sentences are good on their own ("good" is subjective, some have definitely been Bad, but let's pretend we're just seeing the "good" examples) but when stacked together with hundreds, thousands of "lofty" sentences with similar structure, similar length and similar "impact," it can start to make the reading process tedious. I don't want to tire readers out or make them cringe at how hard I'm overcompensating for my lack of education or formal skill, and I do fear it comes across as exactly that when I write the way my brain tells me to. When I say underediting, I don't mean that I don't edit-- I edit to the brink of madness, I rewrite constantly, but I don't often have the heart to cut something out. I really don't edit things to make them more brief; I do think it's arguable to what extent brevity is good for a story, but... it's more important than my writing reflects, haha. There is some impact lost when you are too precious about unnecessary sentences, and I am unfortunately too precious about it. I don't think I'm particularly good at plotting either, as my fanfic writing has relied more on character studies than progressing actions and events, and I fear in longer form (ie: this current WIP) it will come across to the reader as meandering, aimless, and quite frankly boring. To be kinder, I know these are subjective things. I don't think all of my stories are bad, but I don't think all of them are good. I don't think any are great, and I don't think I'm at a skill level where I feel comfortable resting on my laurels or taking a swing at self-publishing. Writing is still challenging to me, and I suppose it's up to personal perception whether it is good to be challenged because it shows you're putting in effort, or whether it's a sign you don't have a natural talent for something, heh.

parchment: how often do you or your personal life influence your writing?

Fairly often, but it's generally in small, inconsequential ways. I don't try to put myself in the characters in any sort of comfort/projection way, but I also think it's unrealistic to expect nothing of yourself ends up in your writing, even if it's in the form of something opposing the character. A line of dialogue might be revised from real life, or a thought that a character has might be based on something I've thought before. Two examples come to mind-- in November Hasn't Come, the musing about Stu framing childing posters or torn up flyers to look artistic because you become self-conscious at a certain age about taping things on your wall is pulled right from my own life and my dozens of frames. I still have a hang-up about framing things I deem embarrassing without the frame. The other is a line in the WIP which may or may not end up in the final product, but I had certainly intended to use it from the very start-- a character quips to Stu about his casual pill usage that "They're not dinner mints," which is straight from a real story involving a loved one and painkiller abuse. I loved this quote because it's got that touch of grim humor about it that really suits my type of fiction, but it is in fact real. (Now that I've said it I'll try my best to keep that interaction in the final product.)

[starrierknight-main]

Just North of Paradise - Chapter 6

A/N: Uh oh, here we have it guys, gals and non-binary pals! It’s all starting to get interesting. Also, I think we should all have a moment of silence for Lily, a.k.a the world’s best wing woman. Also a moment of silence for James, the world’s worst cock-blocker lmfao. P.s I am fully aware that the timeline of canon events is messed up but it’s my story so ya :))

Pairing; Sirius X Reader

Words; 3,141

Warnings; cursing, major fluff, P I N I N G, soft angst (ish?)

Series Masterlist

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

The week had come to an abrupt end on Thursday night when Professor Dumbledore had announced that all classes were cancelled for the staff to have a "cruel magic blocking class" since the numbers of pranks had gone up exponentially since term began. Naturally, his eyes landed on the Marauders as he said this (James wolf-whistled at Dumbledore when he said this and was swiftly given detention by Professor McGonagall). After some convincing from Lily and Y/N, the boys had been persuaded to spend the day catching up on their homework, which had begun to reach its tipping point.

Y/N climbed up the rope ladder and had just gone through the trap door without falling over when she instead tripped over Peter's Transfiguration textbook.

"I never seem to make it in here without falling over, do I?" she said standing up and brushing the dust off herself. She sat down on one of the armchairs and began to look through her bag for her Arithmancy textbook.

"And how's the most beautiful person in the world doing today?" said a voice.

"I don't know Sirius, how are you?" Y/N said looking up. Apparently quite taken aback, he promptly became very interested in the loose thread on his sleeve. James laughed, Lily and Remus exchanged knowing looks as Y/N was searching her bag.

"Oh, I don't believe it! I've left my Arithmancy book in my dorm! Do any of you have a copy I can borrow?" Y/N asked frustratedly.

"None of us except you take Arithmancy," Remus said, munching on a chocolate frog and giving Peter the card.

"Great, now I have to go back up Ravenclaw tower..." she sighed, getting up and making leaving through the portrait hole.

"Well, try and hurry up because we only have today off and there are no free periods where all of us are together!" Lily called after her.

"I think I might be cursed, this is the seventh Merlin I've had!" Peter huffed.

--------

The group patiently waited for Y/N to return, but she never did. It had been twenty minutes until someone said something.

"D'you think someone should go look for her?" James asked no one in particular.

"Yeah, I'll go," Sirius said standing up and stretching. But just at that moment Y/N stepped through the trap door holding her textbook. She began to walk over to them before freezing in her tracks.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten something else in your dorm," Remus sighed sarcastically.

"No... No, I haven't. Did you guys see that though? That was the first time I've ever managed to go through without falling over!" Y/N mused.

"Yes, how riveting. I'm practically jumping for joy," Lily said with an eye roll. Y/N sighed defeatedly before plopping back into her armchair.

"What took so long anyway? I was about to go looking for you," Sirius asked.

"Aw, were you worried about little ol' me?," she teased, "I just had some trouble with the riddle that's all. The answer I came up with was so stupid, I'm surprised it even let me back in!"

"Go on then, tell us what it is!" Peter said whilst popping a Bertie's Every Flavoured Beans into his mouth, gagging at the bad taste.

"'Why is a raven like a writing desk?'" she quoted, pulling out some parchment from her bag.

Although the Marauders and Lily were probably the brightest group of people she had met, Y/N wondered how they managed to get the grades they did. There were answers like "They're both flammable" (helpfully provided by Peter), "Both are for nerds" (unhelpfully provided by James), and the most reasonable answer surprisingly coming from Sirius "Both come with quills" (Remus looked rather put out that he hadn't thought of it first).

"Okay, we give up! Why is a raven like a writing desk?" Remus asked finally.

"The best answer I could think of... I swear if you laugh... The best answer I could come up with is that they both have 'Rs' is them - Lily I can see you laughing!"

"You've got to be joking! That can't be the real answer; and they say Ravenclaws are supposed to be smart - OUCH!" James was interrupted when Sirius threw a copy of Numerology and Grammatica at him.

"Nah, but really. It took you that long to come up with that?" Sirius smirked, knocking shoulders with Y/N. She just smiled, not meeting his eyes, and muttered that she 'had better be getting back to work'.

Eventually, the group went back to working silently, only to be broken when someone would ask a question or Peter would let out a squeal of frustration when he collected another Merlin. After some time, Sirius became bored and restless and started to daydream. Fleeting memories of good times crossed his mind; laughing with James, Remus turning McGonagall's hair yellow, Peter and Lily playing Exploding Snap. Best of all, when Y/N had been cheering at the Quidditch match.

"Pads, why are you smiling?" Remus asked, snapping him away from his thoughts.

"Were you daydreaming about me?" Y/N cooed to him. Sirius flushed scarlet when she asked that; she noticed but didn't say anything even though she couldn't hide a smile of her own.

"That explains the disturbed expression," Lily joked, Y/N flicked a jellybean at her in retaliation. She continued to flick jellybeans at Lily once she had gone back to reading, trying to see how many she could get in her hair without noticing. Eventually, she accidentally flicked one at her forehead and Lily begin to pick them out of her hair.

"Are you serious right now?" Lily asked incredulously.

"No, but he is," Y/N replied, pointing to Sirius who gave an offhand wave without looking up from his essay.

"Out of all the things you could've said, it just had to be that?" Lily asked, rubbing her temples.

"It was only a matter of time," Y/N shrugged.

"What is it gonna take for you to not flick jellybeans in my hair? Am I seriously -  don't you dare start again - am I really going to have to plait it?" Lily asked with an eye roll.

"She doesn't look like she'll stop unless you do," Peter chipped in. Lily sighed and then began to plait her hair. The boys' eyes widened.

"Are you telling me that the great and all-knowing Marauders, beloved trouble makers of Hogwarts, don't know how to plait hair?" Y/N snorted.

"Wormtail and I do," Remus said, Y/N raised her eyebrows at this but didn't ask any questions when she noticed Peter looking embarrassed.

"Well I certainly have no idea!" James said quickly.

"Likewise," Sirius shrugged.

"You lot are utterly pathetic, you know that right? Y/N/N, we're going to have to teach them," Lily said, sending her a look that Y/N guessed she was supposed to understand.

Lily undid her plait and scooched closer to James, leaving Y/N to partner with Sirius. He moved from his chair and sat opposite her on the floor.

"Okay, so I'm pretty sure that your hair is long enough so you can practice on yours. Just copy what I do with my hair and do it on your own," she smiled, and he couldn't help but notice that she had tiny dimples when she did.

"Remind me why I need to know this?" Sirius smirked.

"Beats me, but Lils seems to think it's important, and frankly? I'm too scared to know what she'll do if I don't teach you," she giggled.

After some time, Sirius still wasn't having any luck. His hair was curly enough that it was too difficult for him to plait, the individual curls springing back to normal when he accidentally dropped them. He tried to pick it up again, but Y/N stopped him by gently grabbing his wrists.

"It might be easier if you practice on someone else's before you try on your own," she said. She let go of his wrists and scrunched up her face in thought. She opened her eyes and scooted closer to Sirius so that their crossed legs were touching. "Here, try on mine," she said, handing him a few pieces.

"Can you lean forward a bit more? I can't quite get the right angle on this," Sirius said after a minute.

She leaned forward. Sirius began to plait her hair with ease. Once he was done, he let it fall so it framed her face. Still leaned forward, she looked up to his face. Y/N was so close that she was sure she could count the freckles that dotted his cheeks if she wanted to. He leaned forwards as well; her breathe hitched. She could see that his eyes weren't actually all one colour, they had flecks of green and gold in them as well. She felt her face heat up at their close proximity. He smirked and leaned in further. His breath fanned her face lightly and she could hear the smirk in his voice when he tilted his head and whispered in her ear.

"You're not enjoying this, are you?" his words sent a shiver down her spine.

"N-no..." she stammered unconvincingly and he hummed a little.

"Well, we can't have this, now can we? What if I make this a little more," he turned her face towards him with his thumb on her jaw,"comfortable?"

"Guys, could you maybe like, not?" James said so loudly that Sirius unexpectedly lurched forward, bumping Y/N on the forehead. Sirius shot James a murderous look and Peter and Remus looked to be enjoying the show.

"Ouch, Lily! What was that for?"

"James, you idiot! They were having a moment and you ruined it!" she said exasperatedly.

Y/N hurriedly got up from the floor and sat on a chair, hiding behind her textbook. Just like that, the moment ended as quickly as it had started.

--------

It was once again Saturday afternoon and Y/N was making her way to the Room of Requirement. As she was walking through the hallways she overhead lots of rumours and gossip. But what was to be expected when you put eight hundred teenagers in a castle? She had almost made it there but halted when she heard a particularly loud group of Slytherins say a familiar name.

"Sirius Black-"

"Well, I heard that he and his brother don't get along!"

"Apparently he has a manner house somewhere in the Lake District-"

"No way; I heard he lives in a caravan park!"

Y/N came up behind the gaggle of Slytherins and cleared her throat loudly. They turned around looking quite surprised and huffed before deciding to find another hallway to gossip in. Rolling her eyes and smiling, she shrugged her bag higher on her shoulders and made her way to the Room of Requirement.

She hopped down from the trap door and made her way over to Sirius who was sat on the sofa, opening up the now rather worn looking instruction manual.

"Dude, you won't believe what I heard on my way here," she grinned.

"Pretty sure I've heard everything, but sure," Sirius said putting the almost finished project on the table.

"Well, apparently you simultaneously live in a caravan park and have a manner house somewhere in the Lake District," she laughed.

"Ah, but doesn't everyone?" he said sarcastically, "They are clearly running out of things to say if they're making that sort of shit up."

"Merlin, it's pretty much impossible to keep anything secret at Hogwarts," Y/N said, smiling lightly.

"You know, it's funny you mention rumours because I've actually heard one about you," he said, handing her some Lego pieces and trying to ignore the spark of electricity he felt when they brushed hands.

"About me? I didn't think they'd bother with me. I mean, I'm not exactly up to much," she said, deconstructing a part that had been previously done wrong (probably by Sirius).

"Apparently you and Vance McLaggen have been having secret rendezvous late at night outside of greenhouse four," Sirius said not meeting her eyes. Perhaps if he had looked closer she would have noticed the unmistakable flash of jealousy that washed over them.

Y/N let out an incredulous laugh.

"Ew, as if! First of all, he's a git. Second of all, he's like the opposite of my type," she said easily, turning to face him.

"Oh, you have a type? Do tell," Sirius said, perking up a bit.

"Well I would've thought you of all people should know my type," she said slightly exasperated.

"And why would that be?"

"You know exactly what I mean!" she said prodding his shoulder," And anyway, what's your type?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"'Well I would've thought you of all people should know my type!'" he quoted with a high pitched voice, making Y/N mess up his black hair. "Not the hair! Anything but the hair! Oh fine, why don't you tell me what you think my type is? ," Sirius said leaning back into the sofa cushions and brushing a misplaced curl away from his grey eyes.

"Well, I would've thought your type to be like a... Like a 'bad girl'? Like lip biting, winking, rule-breaking, leather-wearing kinda girl," she asked more than answered.

"Sorry, you sound like my mother when you say that," he snorted, "And why's that?" he said, studying her face.

"To compliment your 'bad boy' persona."

"Well, if anything, I've never actually met a 'bad girl' at Hogwarts. So to be honest, I don't really get what you mean," Sirius said, fiddling with his fingers. Y/N watched his movements for a moment before cracking a crooked grin and making her way to the staircase up to the boy's dormitories.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sirius called after her. After a few moments, she rushed back down the staircase carrying something.

"That's my leather jacket," Sirius stated blankly.

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Who?"

"Nevermind. This way I can show you what I mean," she said, putting it on with the sleeves flopping over her hands. She was very aware of the all too familiar smell that came with it, making her heart pound in her ears.

"And how come you know how to navigate that tower in particular?" he said with an eyebrow raised and a smirk.

"Believe it or not Sirius, I have been up to a Gryffindor boy's dormitory before," Y/N laughed.

"Wow, I never thought you'd be the type," he said looking somewhat impressed. She just smiled and shrugged at this.

"Right, so do you want me to show you what I mean?" she asked.

"The stage is yours, doll."

She took a breath before turning to face him completely. She then did the unthinkable.

Putting her weight on one hip with her hand on it whilst she bit her lip and sent him a quick and over-exaggerated wink. Heat rose to his cheeks, and he was extremely thankful that he was sitting because if he wasn't he thought he'd be at risk of his knees buckling. He wondered why she didn't do it more often.

"Right, shows over! How was that?" she said, dropping the demeanour and plopping back on the sofa next to him.

"That was um... That was p-pretty good," he stammered, subconsciously rubbing the nape his neck and looking at the ceiling.

"But you see what I mean now?" she asked, running a hand through her hair. Sirius pinched himself to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I get what you mean now. Personally, I think I still only have one type though," he said trying to gain back his normal manner.

"Ah, didn't convince you, did I?"

"Actually, you more sort of confirmed my type," Sirius said brushing a strand of hair from her face and letting his hand rest there for a fraction of a second more than necessary.

"Oh! Oh... And, er, would you like to clarify what that is?" she said, knowing exactly where this was going.

"You."

It was Y/N's turn to blush now. And boy, Sirius was proud that he was the one that could make her blush like that.

"I uh," she shifted in her seat slightly," I think we should get back to the project." Sirius just chuckled and they resumed their work.

It took until the sun was low for it to be completed; the whole common room being bathed in the glow of the winter sunset. They packed up and Y/N was about to leave when Sirius stopped her. It was finally time to do what had been weighing on his mind the whole time.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I just wanted to say that you were good to work with and actually pretty nice company," Sirius said," Despite being an insufferable know it all and messing up my hair."

"Same goes for you," she laughed.

"It's a shame that the study sessions are gonna stop and that I'm going to see less and less of you. Especially for the next few weeks," he said with a note of sadness. She faced him fully and took his hands and her's whilst looking up at him. No, no no! Get a hold of yourself now is not the time! he chastised himself.

"You know you can come to me about anything, right? You can talk and I'll listen or... Or I'll talk and you can listen. Whatever you need, just ask, okay?" she said with the gentlest voice and the kindest of looks. And it was unfair that she looked so beautiful at that moment.

"I can't. Not yet. But just know if there was any other way, I'd do it," he said, his voice cracking slightly.

"It's okay Sirius, just know that you can talk to me," she said squeezing his hands and giving him a light kiss on the cheek. With a fleeting smile, she left him alone in the common room. He placed a hand on the spot her lips and touched his cheek. His eyes began to prickle but he refused to cry.

He knew it was coming to this, he just didn't expect it to be so hard. There was no way he could tell her. Because he couldn't betray Remus' secret, especially since they were using her solution. Becoming illegal Animagi. It could only be done by taking a potion every sunset and keeping a single Mandrake leaf in their mouths. This meant they could hardly eat and drink, let alone speak. Sirius would have to suffer in silence for four long weeks. So no, he couldn't talk to her, even if it was the only thing in the world he wished he could do.

Taglist: @may-rapp @treestarrrrrrrr @shinysilverunicorn-blog @angxllicsz @sir-lili @slytherpuffgal @fallern618 @play-morezeppelin

[nanso]

For the writing asks: 1, 4, 6? ❤️

(From renlybaratheon-tyrell) 😊

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

I’ve got a few! I think you know about Sun/Wolf - hoping to get an update soon but...work is pretty intense right now 😭.  And long fics are hard, sigh. Aside from that, I have a few prompts/asks I need to fulfill for rare pairs! One is Jaime/Ned and they are one of my favorites that I’ve never written about so I’m also taking my tiiiiiime with this lol.  I love this pairing because I honestly don’t think GRRM meant to write Jaime with any bi subtext - but yo! It’s there!! And the way he FIXATES on Ned....Also working on what will likely be a short series about Tywin’s siblings and his impact on them but I probably won’t get to that until the other WIPs. That project is inspired by one of my favorite ASoIaF quotes, this particular one being from badass Genna Lannister when she says to Jaime:

“That shadow Tywin cast was long and black, and each of them [his brothers] had to struggle to find a little sun.” 

Love that quote, love Genna Lannister.

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Shit, I dunno, I think everything could use improvement, tbh. I guess I’d say I felt mostly alright about the last part of the latest chapter of Sun/Wolf with Rhaella because I wanted to try to encapsulate her freedom and harken back to the way the chapter opened by contrasting it with Jaime’s tension: 

As they sat at the shore watching Viserys, the ripples of the parchment crumpling into the fire that night receded to the far parts of her mind. Instead, Rhaella let her mind take in her son’s laughter, the feel of the sun bathing her - and the air, had it ever been so fresh?  

She could not feel her scars anymore. 

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

RHAELLE. FOREVER. She’s basically an OC since we barely know anything about her from the books/canon. But man, writing her is actually the easiest and most fun because she’s just done with people’s nonsense - and I like to write about people having no fucks to give. And coming up, I’m going to have her back at Storm’s End - with the Baratheon bros! - which is a lot of fun to weave in pieces from canon history and try to write about these characters before the events/context we know them primarily