#and bran somehow brings him back

[wallboys]

coming back from my 6 month asoiaf hiatus to say the vibes are telling me that mel won’t be the one to resurrect jon

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

What do you think Theon and Asha's respective plotlines in TWOW are going to be? It's always been something I have a hard time puzzling out. I could see one staying with Stannis so we see the campaign for Winterfell play out, but not both? What do you think? Is it possible they head back to the Islands after the Battle in the crofter's village? Is it possible Dagmer Cleftjaw will come into play since he's still at Torrhen's Square?

I'm really not sure. I do think Theon will survive whatever happens when Stannis tries to execute him by the weirwood -- those ravens are not yelling "Theon" and "the tree" for nothing, Bran is getting involved there and something deeply weird is gonna go down -- but what happens to Theon and Asha after that? 🤷‍♀️

But yes, it's possible one or both could head back to the Iron Islands. (Along with Dagmer, sure.) I'm certain Asha would want to bring Theon there, to pull a Torgon the Latecomer with him and declare the kingsmoot invalid. Whether she will, or whether that's something that has to wait for ADOS, I don't know. But it's possible that if Euron and/or Victarion's actions come to Stannis's attention, he’ll decide Asha's not worth keeping as a hostage and instead recruit her to find out what's going on with the other Greyjoys. Theon also has some kind of backstory yet to be revealed re Euron -- and considering Aeron and the Forsaken, and the way Theon nearly had a panic attack seeing Mors Umber's eyepatch, it's unfortunately not hard to make certain assumptions -- so he may have potential re Euron's downfall? Or perhaps Theon won't be involved, and just share backstory details with us while Euron does whatever the hell he's doing over by Oldtown and the Hightower and with Dany and the dragons and the glass candles and the Valyrian steel armor and the Horn of Joramun and everything.

Note also that Theon and Jon have highly interesting potential for their future meeting, so while Theon could be the POV for Stannis's campaign, it's also possible he could end up at the Wall somehow? Could this be somehow related to Theon's potential as a prophet of the old gods/Bran re the deeply weird thing happening up by the tree? And then there's the fact that Jeyne is already on her way to the Wall with Alysane Mormont and Justin Massey, and from there probably to Braavos... might Theon follow them? And that's not even getting into the mystery of who wrote the Pink Letter.

It's no wonder you're having a hard time puzzling things out, there's just too much to consider, honestly.

[amber-laughs]

I frequently think about the fact that the must fuck up Jon cate interaction possible never happened cus my boy wasn't present for the 5 kings war

Picture this robb going to complain to Jon from his mum wanting to exchange Jaime for his sister and jon is just like she right of course she right

Cat going to start her no trusting theon and balon is dumb as fuck discourse just for Jon to say it word for word before she can ever speak

Like they would both be mortified but they have the same opinion a 100% of the time on every thing

I need your opinion on this

I'm so glad you asked about this because it's one of my favorite what ifs. So I will start off by saying a lot of the wisdom Jon has opposed to Robb he gains from being at or beyond the Wall so for a lot he and Robb do start off at the same baseline but like you said anon he and Catelyn have very similar priorities and suspicions from the jump that Robb either never had or was forced to give up.

We know Jon never trusted Theon and has had no reservations telling Robb in the past "Jon always said you were an ass, Greyjoy," Robb said loudly. So yes he would 100% be on Catelyn's side and I think we have enough background Robb/Jon info to say that even with Robb's coronation they would maintain the type of relationship where Jon could speak his mind in private like Catelyn does.

And we know from when Jon frees both Mance and Val he's willing to let prisoners go if he thinks he'll benefit from it. Not only that but just like Cat wants peace with the Lannisters Jon wants peace with the wildlings. I know Jon has the line "It's death and destruction I want to bring down upon House Lannister, not scorn." but at that point they've killed Robb and Ned plus thinks they killed Arya, trapped Sansa in a marriage and thinks Bran and Rickon are dead as well. If faced with the option to trade them for Jaime when Catelyn brings it up in Clash I think Jon is on her side. Even when Stannis is offering him lordship as Lord of Winterfell he declines it because he doesn't want to burn weirwoods not because he'd be a vassal to King Stannis. He doesn't seem to care about Northern Independence, in fact he's never mentioned it at all unless I'm forgetting something.

This is all if Jon never goes to the Wall at all. If somehow-someway Robb and Cat survive the Red Wedding and Jon shows up as Robb's heir after all he's learned I think Catelyn gets one fuck of an ally unfortunately I don't think she could handle having Jon there and he never brings it up again but in AGoT before Ned dies Jon says he would blame her as much as Cersei so that might come back if they're face to face, like you said I don't know if they could stand it but they would probably agree on most things.

also if you're reading this and want more Jon-Catelyn similarities feel free to click here

[jedimaesteryoda]

"I'd waited long enough. I hated watching Robert stumble to your bed every night, always wondering if maybe this night he'd decide to claim his rights as husband." -ASOS, Jaime IX Jaime Lannister put a hand on the king's shoulder, but the king shoved him away hard. Lannister stumbled and fell. The king guffawed. "The great knight. I can still knock you in the dirt. Remember that, Kingslayer." He slapped his chest with the jeweled goblet, splashing wine all over his satin tunic. "Give me my hammer and not a man in the realm can stand before me!" -AGOT, Sansa II

Jaime and Robert's relationship can be described as one of mutual jealousy in spite of their similarities. Both are noted warrior who killed Targaryens in relationships with Cersei, and down to having children killed with Robert ordering Dany's murder and Jaime pushing Bran out a window.

Robert secretly envied Jaime for being the image of what Robert once was in his youth before he had gone to seed: the handsome, prodigious warrior. Jaime envied Robert for being married to Cersei and being able to lay with her whenever he wanted as well as being celebrated for killing a Targaryen.

Craven, Jaime thought, as Brienne fought to stifle her moans. Can it be? They took my sword hand. Was that all I was, a sword hand? Gods be good, is it true? -ASOS, Jaime IV "Rhaegar … Rhaegar won, damn him. I killed him, Ned, I drove the spike right through that black armor into his black heart, and he died at my feet. They made up songs about it. Yet somehow he still won. He has Lyanna now, and I have her." The king drained his cup. -AGOT, Eddard X

Jaime didn't know that killing Rhaegar never brought Robert any peace as it didn't replace the loss of Lyanna anymore than his marriage to Cersei. Robert never realized that in spite of being the handsome, famously skilled knight he wished he still was, it didn't bring Jaime any happiness. If anything, Jaime built his whole identity around his martial ability, and wanted to die after losing his hand.

They also share a lack of self-awareness with Jaime saying people only hate him for killing Aerys when he pushed a child out a window, and Robert saying his marriage was failing because Lyanna was the only woman for him rather than him being a shitty husband.

Jaime loses his famous martial ability as Robert does, but where they differ is how they choose to respond. While initially, Jaime has the same ableist attitude as Robert with regards to debilitating injuries, ie better to die than be a cripple, he moves past that.

When Robert lost his martial ability, he didn't try to find new skills like in administering his realm. He just drank, feasted, hunted and whored dumping all the responsibility of ruling onto his Hands. He also isn't active in his kids' lives, dumping that onto Cersei and the septas. After losing his hand, Jaime worked on rebuilding his identity, and learns to use his head in solving problems rather than his sword exemplified by his taking Riverrun without battle. Jaime tries to be more active in his kids' lives such as when he gives emotional support to Tommen and backs him against Cersei. He chooses to be kore active in politics and do what Robert should have dine to check Cersei. He also tries to adhere to the values he once looked up to in his youth.

I thought that I was the Warrior and Cersei was the Maid, but all the time she was the Stranger, hiding her true face from my gaze. -AFFC, Jaime IV

Jaime later realizes that Cersei wasn't all she was cracked up to be, and by AFFC, he effectively dumps her. He seems to be doing what Robert didn't do, and moving on with someone else who interestingly enough, is the image of Lyanna: a highborn girl who loves chivalry, swords and participates in a tourney.

[madame-fear]

Hallo! Could I request a bran x reader? Idk I’ve had loads of thoughts of like taking care/comforting bran over the past few days haha

— a/n : YES OF COURSE, absolutely love this oneee <33 i made general hcs for this one because my creative ass is lacking 🥲🔫 hope you enjoy your reading anyways !! ♡

• Having known Bran for all your entire life, it's as if you already knew when he needed some warming comforting without him having to tell you.

• Before he fell from the tower, he was a pretty rebellious and independent young boy who loved climbing anywhere. He had even taught you how to climb! And in those moments, he didn't need anyone comforting him, honestly.

• But, after he fell and realised that he was never going to be able to normally walk or climb anymore, he felt pretty much useless. And there you were, by his side before and after he had some days of being unconscious on his bed.

• The first thing you did when he woke up was tightly embrace him in a hug, and greet him with a broad smile... plus some light tearing, because you were afraid of never being able to have your friend back.

“I'm so happy you're awake, Bran! I was afraid of never being able to be with you again.” you quietly mumbled, as you tightly embraced him. A wave of relief washed over you, knowing that at least, he still had some more time to spend by your side.

• Your warm, loving hug was the very first thing he experienced when he woke up, and quite honestly... he felt reassured and comforted, in a way. Our boy quickly returned the tight embraced, and buried his head on your shoulder.

• Then, you talked to him about everything that happened while he wasn't conscious, and you also provided the basic care he needed the following days, and a bit more than basic needs as well; such as: covering him with the fur of his blankets when he had to sleep, asking maidens to bring him food, even offering yourself to brush his hair if he wanted too, cuddling with him, watching over him while he slept (even if you were his age, but you thought you could protect him somehow), and a looong long list of other things you did for him.

• After that moment, he realised how much you genuinely cared for him. And he also realised, you were the only one who provided him a true sense of comfort amongst the war, plus... a light crush grew fondly on him for you... but he wouldn't admit it.

• As both of you grew up together, you sticked by his side all the time. You were a truly loyal companion, and one who attentively listened to him, and took care of him. Basically, you went through a whole bunch of shit situations, but at least you were together.

• Even after he became the Three-Eyed-Raven and the King of the Seven Kingdoms you were there to still provide him comfort and care for him like you did when you were small children. Everytime you showed him your genuine affection, his heart fluttered a bit more for you and he deeply enjoyed it... though, as always, he'd keep that to himself.

• The affection you had for him was also shown in different ways, such as: helping him calm down and relax when he was too overwhelmed by his duties and responsabilities as King, sitting on his lap, taking him to take a scroll on the gardens, leaving little love notes on top of his bed or nightstand, etc.

• And HE APPRECIATES THAT A TON <33 And of course, he'll return the favour by gifting you things like small flowers or also leaving notes on your bedroom, or just braiding your hair if you want to.

• The best thing he likes you to do to comfort him when he's too tired/overwhelmed by everything in general, is having you sit on his lap, and play with strands of his silky hair while he rants about his day, and you attentively listen.

• ^ tbh feeling your warm presence and having your fingers delicately run across his hair never fails to soothe Bran and calm him.

• Though he isn't the type of person that expresses what he thinks or feels, he genuinely enjoys your affection in a whole deeper extent, and is very fond of having you as his right hand, plus life companion.

• And also, like I said previously, he'll make sure to let you know he enjoys the comfort you give him by gift giving, taking hold of your hand, and pulling you on his lap only to wrap his arms around your body. Plus, if you ever need to be calmed down/comforted, he'll return you all the caring you give him in a heartbeat.

[rise-my-angel]

speaking of modern au reader’s instagram

I like to think that SOMEHOW this is on there. but could not come up with any context whatsoever

Got it.

So Robb took Arya, Bran, and Rickon to this Renaissance Fair sort of event. Everyone was busy so only Robb was available to take them. At the event it is required that guests dress up, and so all four Starks were in elaborate medieval style outfits all day. There was an option for photos and get them printed on whatever you want. So all of them got shirts of themselves for a fun token of the day, but Robb KNEW that if he brought that back to the apartment and someone found it, you, Jon, and Theon would never stop making fun of him for it. So he keeps it at the main house with Rickon.

One evening a long while later, Jon brings you with him to watch Rickon when everyone else is out for the night. The three of you are watching an old fantasy movie when Rickon is reminded if that day, and starts telling you both about the fair and says they all got shirts and runs upstairs to get his and Robbs.

Which immediately Jon puts on because its too funny to resist. You end up taking a photo unsure what to do with it. Later as Rickons fallen asleep across both your laps on the couch, Jon has you pulled close in his side when your head drops on his shoulder as you doze off. Your phone falls from your hand when you do so.

Jon only meant to turn it to sleep mode but saw the photo he didn't know you took. He ends up posting it to your instagram, tagging Robb with the caption "Still look better then you do, even with your face on my torso."

Robb has never lived down that by the time he came across it, it was very late into the night and saw who had been the only ones to see it so far.

"Jon Snow and Ned Stark like this post"

[contreparry]

Happy friday! For the pairing of your choice, "going to sleep as the big spoon and waking up as the little spoon" (bedsharing prompts)

Here's some Zevran/Surana corporate espionage AU for @dadrunkwriting!

Zevran always kept his partners where he could see them.

It was a habit of his he developed early on in his career. Never let a lover (work-related or otherwise) out of eye or ear shot. Don't bring them home if you can help it, and keep everything work-related out of reach and behind several locks. Wandering hands and wandering eyes could cause a world of trouble in his line of work, and Zevran's life was messy enough as is. Even with a year's sabbatical behind him Zevran kept to his habits: lock away the knives and poisons, wipe hard drives regularly, and don't let a lover out of sight.

There was a reason Arainai Crows were the best in their line of work. If you needed a honeypot, you got an Arainai to handle it with as little mess and fuss as possible. Dellemortes handled mess, and De Rivas did poisonings, but Arainais coaxed their intel out of targets with sweet words and touches and a great deal of care. Never let a lover out of your sight. Always know where hands and eyes are at all times. Always be careful, always be wary, because when the illusion crashes you need to be as far away as possible.

Zevran was losing his touch.

The night (or early morning) ended as he planned: him curled around Bran, his chest plastered against Bran's back, his nose buried into the soft, silken wispy hair at the back of his neck, their legs tangled together and Bran half-way asleep already, his stubby black lashes pressed against the pale curve of his cheek. Zevran tightened his grip around Bran's waist, sighed deeply into the crook of Bran's neck, and drifted off into slumber.

Yet when he woke up, he found their positions reversed in the night.

Bran had somehow twisted them around until his arms were wrapped around Zevran's chest and his leg was thrown around Zevran's hip. His calf pressed Zevran into place, and he couldn't move without waking Bran. And Bran's pointed chin dug into the meat of his shoulder, and his soft breathing echoed in Zevran's ear like the dull roar of the sea. He fucked up. He fucked it all up. Because you didn't take your eyes off a lover, casual or otherwise, and you definitely didn't take your eyes off of your JOB. And Zevran had done both in a single night. Of course he did. He was terrible at his job these days. His heart (what little he had) wasn't in it. Maybe it never had been.

He ought to move around. He ought to turn to face his lover- never turn your back, never let yourself be exposed, maintain control in all things- and then Bran shifted behind him. He tightened his grip, dropped his chin and pressed his cheek against Zevran's shoulder, sighed contentedly, and curled up behind him like a cat.

"Zev," Bran mumbled, and then he went still. Zevran could scarcely hear his breathing over the pounding of his heart.

Intimacy. He knew how to create intimacy where there was none. He didn't know how to handle it when it grew organically, and this was not artifice. What was Zevran supposed to do with something that was honest and pure?

Bran would laugh at that, Zevran thought hysterically. Pure? Him? Absurd! But there was something sweet and innocent about this moment. As gray morning light flooded through the blinds Bran nuzzled his face into the meat of Zevran's shoulder, and a lump began to form in Zevran's throat. Stop it! He was not going to fall apart because of a bit of sleepy sentimentality!

But he could indulge in it, just for one morning. Surely nothing could come of that. Zevran reached down and rested his hand over Bran's, shut his eyes, and did what he could to fall asleep once more, at least for one more hour.

[blue-mint-winter]

Reading The World of Ice and Fire - the history section:

The legends of the ancient history raise many questions. I know it's supposed to have magical explanation, but I kept thinking about High Kavalaan from Dying of the Light and how they had similarly fantastical legends that had scientific explanations. Somehow it's easier to believe children of the forest had an access to the red button and whenever they pushed it, an area was annihilated with an orbital strike. Or humans themselves warred and lost their technology and know-how during the Long Night. The problem is that so far the magic in the series is too subtle. It's just psychic stuff that's legit, so it's hard to believe that a magic with the power to wipe out a continent ever existed. There's no proper mages and blaming magic for unexplainable things is very common even when it's blatantly untrue (like calling Tyland a sorceror, he did nothing, just looked shady in the hood). It could be nuclear weapons or natural cataclysms that destroyed the arm of Dorne or Valyria but people would rather blame children of the forest or bloodmages.

Bran the Builder built a bunch of indestructible castles and the Wall despite living in bronze age. He also didn't bother to build any roads to connect the castles. Idk, everything about those stories seems incredibly suspicious. Either he wasn't living in bronze age and had more advanced technology to build these constructions or they were built earlier and maybe by someone else. And whoever built them didn't need roads. If they could just fly around, it wasn't necessary. Spacecraft or dragons for everyone?

Nymeria's story was pretty cool.

The history of Valyria makes me think the dragons weren't so powerful or useful enough in their wars. Aegon needed only 3 to conquer Westeros, but Valyria needed hundreds to conquer Rhoynars? Strange. Maybe early dragons were a smaller breed.

I skimmed over the repeat of kings from Fire and Blood, there were some small changes, like Orwyle amputating Viserys' fingers.

It said Daemon's death, Helaena's murder, Corlys' imprisonment and riots were on the same day, so I feel vindicated. It made sense for majority of dragons to die on the same day.

I get the feeling that Aegon III being called Dragonbane is completely unfair to him, the book says he tried to bring dragons back and sent for mages from Essos. I don't think he was really behind the extinction of dragons.

I wonder what happened to Rhaena and Morning, Baela, Alys Rivers and her son. But it sure looks like half of Westeros has dragon blood with all the descendants of female lines and Aegon IV's bastards running around.

Elaena is another interesting character I would like to know more about.

It should be more important that Daemon Blackfyre is Aegon III's grandson rather than Aegon IV's son, Daena was clearly usurped by her uncle as is the tradition in this family.

I liked the section about Baelor, that one was crazy in an interesting way. You can always count on Dorne to humble Targaryens, but it kind of loses the impact when the guy isn't prideful and is willing to martyr himself. I laughed when he just left his cousin in the cage and decided to collect him on the way back.

Aegon IV's reign is similarly interesting, because there were many shenanigans.

Some of the translations are driving me crazy, why do they translate Dragonknight, but not Oakenfist or Bittersteel? Sometimes I can't see the logic.

Kind of funny how it says Aegon V was a great king, but he wanted to force his children into arranged marriages and to bring back dragons, so he could terrorize people into compliance with his reforms. Was there really no other way?

Majority of deaths in this history book are suspicious.

Aerys-Tywin conflict was fun to read about. Truly Aerys was the worst boss in existence. I don't think there was ever a king that undermined his Hand on purpose. That part when Aerys realized that he allowed a Lannister to carry a sword around him by making Jaime a kingsguard, panicked and sent him to guard Rhaella was hilarious.

The part about Elia and her children's murder and how it refuses to name the killers and instead even suggests that Elia killed her children drives the point that the official history presented may not be entirely true. I guess it's useful in a way that characters in story know this version so it's an accepted lore. Doesn't mean it's accurate about everything.

I count Baratheon brothers as Targaryens, they have enough dragon blood to wreak havoc.

What really surprised me was that Brandon and Ned were born the same year, same as Robert. I always assumed Ned was a few years younger than Brandon.

[sailorshadzter]

i really wrote this because i never ever ever not think about jonsa when i hear 'exile' hehehe

His fist connects once, twice, three times, endless times. 

So many times that he loses count, that when he does finally stop, Bolton’s face is a bloody, beaten pulp. The man spews spittle and blood, perhaps even a tooth or two, as Jon draws back on his hunches, Stark colored eyes on no one but her. She stands there with a wild, frantic look in her blue eyes, her lips moving but there’s no words that come forth. “Sansa…” Her name is soft on his lips as he staggers back to his feet, bringing her back from wherever her mind has taken her. “It’s over,” he utters, but they both think of what they’ve lost, the little brother they could not save. Her hand reaches for his and there is nothing but silence.

[ x x x ]

He’s in his rooms that night, rooms that once belonged to Robb when they’d been little more but children in these halls. The room is almost as it had been left, albeit with a light covering of dust, now since wiped away, collected over the years since their departure from Winterfell. He would not remain here, but the rest of the rooms needed to be prepared and so this one would do until the next day. 

There in the privacy of these rooms, he cries; he cries for the brother he’s let down, the brother he’s lost. No, in truth, he cries for the family he’s lost. Now, after this battle, he can only assume it truly was just him and Sansa left to the world- gone was Robb, gone was Arya, Bran, and now little Rickon. He closes his eyes against the pain, but it does not fade, rather grows stronger as he sinks into the nearest chair, the tears falling freely from his eyes.

He has won Winterfell back, but at what cost?

Knock, knock.

He looks up, surprised, but before he can even think to speak, the door is swinging open and it’s Sansa standing there. As always, a reminder of what he has left- of what matters the most to him. “Jon…” She speaks softly, gently, as she crosses the room to drop to her knees at his side. He opens his mouth to speak, as if he means to protest, but she’s shaking her head as her hands take hold of his. “You don’t have to say it.” She says as she looks up, blue eyes full of unshed tears. She feels the loss of Rickon as much as he does; the little boy she carried all around the castle as an infant, the tug of small hands on her skirts in the courtyard… Rickon might have well have been her own child and while she loved each of her siblings, the bond she had once shared with Rickon was unlike the others. “Your hands…” She murmurs next, fingertips gently brushing across his battered knuckles, bruised from his fight with Ramsay, from every punch he’d done for her and for Rickon.

“I’m fine,” he assures, but she falls into silence with a simple shake of her head, eyes sweeping from his face down to the hands she holds. Those hands which went to war for her and for Winterfell, for the family he so desperately wanted back in his grasp. Sansa has to wonder why she had never seen it back then, back when they’d been children. His devotion to Robb, to Arya… To Bran… Even Rickon… Why had it only been her with the problem? How could she never see in him what she saw now? “Sansa…” Jon’s voice is barely audible to her as she draws his injured hand up, her lips brushing across the broken skin, her feather soft kiss sending chills down his spine. From one to the next, she kisses each and every one of the injuries he sports, knowing it would never take away the pain, but somehow, someway, it feels as if this might be the one thing that will help. 

When she does look up again, his gaze is steady, those Stark colored eyes of his threatening to undo her as they so often do. “We’re all we have now,” she whispers, thinking of the family they’ve lost, but the family they’ve somehow managed to gain. She swallows, a single tear escaping down the curve of her cheek, another threatening to follow after. But it is Jon’s thumb that catches it before it can fall, it is his palm that falls into place against the soft skin of her cheek, a tender gesture she feels long after they have parted ways. “We’re family.” 

“Family.” He echoes with a nod, knowing without a doubt, he would go to war or walk through hellfire to protect her. He would not fail her, he would never give her cause to doubt him, he would keep her safe until his final day. 

They were family.

[agentrouka-blog]

How do you think Robb reacted to the news of Sansa's marriage in private- versus the king visage he is forced to adopt when delivering the news to Cat?

I don't think Robb is adopting his kingly persona when he tells Cat the news. He certainly wouldn't be forced to. 

Within this conversation, we have one of the last moments where Robb is, in fact, not hiding behind his kingly role in facing Catelyn. 

His king face is something he puts on when performing the role for others - and occasionally as a weapon against Catelyn within that context. His grand theatrical forgiveness of Catelyn for freeing Jaime, carefully leading into the introduction of Jeyne and his broken betrothal is an example of that. Or his public announcement that she will be kept as a prisoner guest at Seagard after Edmure's wedding. It's usually moments where he is using his role as a cover for his cowardice. He traps Catelyn into being unable to voice her opinion without publicly undermining him, and he knows she would not do that to her own son. He is never more a child than when he hides behind his kingship to avoid mommy's censure.

This moment is not an example of Robb's king face, though. 

There are no witnesses, no carefully callibrated lines, no ritualistic platitudes. He deliberately waits until they can be alone, leads her on a walk toward the godswood. GRRM takes care to emphasize the armistice between them. “Your Grace” -> “Mother”.

Only when the last of them was done did he turn back to Catelyn. “There is something we must speak of. Will you walk with me?”

“As you command, Your Grace.”

“That wasn’t a command, Mother.”

“It will be my pleasure, then.” (ASOS, Catelyn IV)

 It’s not a king informing his subject. It’s a son imparting bad news to his mother. Just Robb ranting and working up the courage to tell her what happened. He’s obviously hesitant, trying to feel out where they stand, after they both created chaos, after the mess of the Karstark treason and beheading, knowing that this subject of his sisters is their greatest conflict.

He opens by conceding that she was right about trading for Sansa.

“I should have traded the Kingslayer for Sansa when you first urged it,” Robb said as they walked the gallery. “If I’d offered to wed her to the Knight of Flowers, the Tyrells might be ours instead of Joffrey’s. I should have thought of that.” 

Cat reassures him that he did his best. 

He goes on to emphasize his uncertainty and sense of failure.

“I have won every battle, yet somehow I’m losing the war.” He looked up, as if the answer might be written on the sky. “The ironmen hold Winterfell, and Moat Cailin too. Father’s dead, and Bran and Rickon, maybe Arya. And now your father too.”

Cat assures him that his father would be proud of him. 

Only then - assured of her regard and support - does he open up about what happened, with such a sense of vague gravity that Catelyn thinks Sansa is dead. 

“Gone?” He looked startled. “Dead? Oh, Mother, no, not that, they haven’t harmed her, not that way, only … a bird came last night, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you, not until your father was sent to his rest.” Robb took her hand. “They married her to Tyrion Lannister.”

I don’t think his reaction there is performed or in its essence different from what he felt when he first learned about it. He’s openly angry, voices regrets and frustration at his own helplessness. (A hint at how this conversation will end lies in how he is still couching his regret in serving the war effort by using Sansa for his own alliance plans. Sansa as a person still isn’t allowed to matter.) 

And he is careful to try and find common ground again with Catelyn over this. He emphasizes that they are both angry at Tyrion and the Lannisters for being utterly untrustworthy, he doesn’t try to berate Catelyn as naive for having hoped otherwise. He commiserates with her in feeling helpless. This is a son who is sharing bad news and wanting to properly reconcile with his mother. 

This is genuinely how he feels. He is distraught and uncertain. They both are!

“We would have them back if we returned his precious Jaime, he swore it before the whole court. How could he marry her, after saying that in sight of gods and men?”

“He’s the Kingslayer’s brother. Oathbreaking runs in their blood.” Robb’s fingers brushed the pommel of his sword. “If I could I’d take his ugly head off. Sansa would be a widow then, and free. There’s no other way that I can see. They made her speak the vows before a septon and don a crimson cloak.”

And for a moment they are as close as ever. Catelyn and he both understand that the Lannisters are counting on Sansa’s claim in the event of Robb’s death.

But almost immediately, their differences rear their head again. Their feelings are the same, their conclusions are not.

“I am not dead yet, Mother.”

Suddenly Catelyn was full of dread. “Wars need not be fought until the last drop of blood.” Even she could hear the desperation in her voice. “You would not be the first king to bend the knee, nor even the first Stark.”

His mouth tightened. “No. Never.”

And just like that they are at odds again. Robb would never consider bending the knee and making peace just to prevent more bloodshed and his own potential death. He accuses her of neglecting Ned’s memory, which he holds up over any living interest, any consideration of peace. Ned he would have traded for the kingslayer, but not the girls. They never finished that conversation about why, and it’s plain the reason hasn’t changed, not really. He wed his sword the day they cut off Ned’s head. 

She found Robb beneath the green canopy of leaves, surrounded by tall redwoods and great old elms, kneeling before the heart tree, a slender weirwood with a face more sad than fierce. His longsword was before him, the point thrust in the earth, his gloved hands clasped around the hilt. (AGOT, Catelyn XI)

And he is faithful to his bride.

He pulled his hand from hers. “Never, I said.”

He is playing the boy now, not the king. (...) 

Robb’s face was cold. (...) 

Catelyn had never struck her children in anger, but she almost struck Robb then. It was an effort to remind herself how frightened and alone he must feel. (...) “Do I have your leave to go?”

“Yes.” He turned away and drew his sword. What he meant to do with it, she could not say. There was no enemy there, no one to fight. Only her and him, amongst tall trees and fallen leaves. There are fights no sword can win, Catelyn wanted to tell him, but she feared the king was deaf to such words.

Earlier he had dismissed her formal reference to his title. But when she requests his permission to leave, he doesn’t do that again. He grants permission. Like a sovereign.

It is only at the end of the conversation, because Catelyn remains in disagreement with him, that they turn from mother and son to subject and king. 

They do a similar, much shorter dance in the following chapter, surrounding Jon’s legitimization and Cat’s impending imprisonment. Robb pulls up the drawbridge. Until that last moment.

“No.” Robb’s voice was whisper faint. “Mother, no …”

“Yes. Robb, get up. Get up and walk out, please, please. Save yourself … if not for me, for Jeyne.”

“Jeyne?” Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. “Mother,” he said, “Grey Wind …” (ASOS, Catelyn VII)

The same conversation they have been having all through the books. “Save yourself.” - “Mother.” 

[queenofbaws]

hiiiii i'm so sorry for the vagueness but i just. i have to request hawke being away for a while (for whatever reason) and seeing varric's new look it's a must

oh no this was really just supposed to be six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

"There's someone waiting for you in your office."

It wasn't out of the ordinary for Bran to wait by the door like that, buzzing around the entryway of the Keep so he could be the first to shove a parchment into his hands or inform him of some exhausting goings-on he had to address after even an afternoon away (and those days, all of Kirkwall's goings-on exhausted him), but there was something about his tone, something about the pinched look on his face, that gave Varric pause.

"Couldn't keep them out, huh?" he asked, running the numbers in his head even as he started up the stairs. The Merchants Guild was, as ever, the most likely suspect, but that didn't rule out the possibility it was the Carta or Coterie or, Maker help him, Inquisition come calling. "Please tell me you're not going to have me walk in there blind, Seneschal," and though he chuckled as he said it, he watched Bran's face carefully - very carefully indeed - for any flicker of a tell. There was none. "Did you at least get a name?"

"They introduced themselves as an ambassador," Bran muttered, all at once engrossed in rearranging the paperwork in his hands. "From Weisshaupt."

And Varric's blood ran cold.

He searched Bran's face a moment longer before he could force himself to look up past the banisters towards the door leading to his quarters. It was shut fast, and while the writerly voice in the back of his head whispered that was a good sign, even an auspicious one, in his heart he couldn't bring himself to believe it. Doors left ajar could tantalize readers into turning a page, but he'd been alive long enough to learn that, in the real world, it was the ones someone had taken the time to shut that you needed to be wary of.

"Weisshaupt, huh?" The words felt like gravel in his throat. "Well...that doesn't bode well." An understatement if ever there was one; it had been years without word from the stronghold, years since the Inquisitor had sent Adamant's scant few Grey Wardens marching off through the arid hellscape with word of what Corypheus had done to (and with) their brethren, years since...

But he'd known this was coming. He'd never let himself imagine it for fear that he'd somehow it hasten its arrival or dampen his grief, but he'd known. How many times had he said it, himself? In a good story, a really, really good one, the hero dies in the end. They almost have to.

And he wouldn't claim theirs was a happy one, or a pretty one, but it was good. If it had only ever been one thing, it was that: good.

He forced himself to take a step, then another, then another, feeling each time like he was walking through mud. Dread sucked at his boots, weighing him down the closer he drew to the door, and below that, poking its nose out from the pit he'd buried it away in since his mother's death, despair.

Lying was what he was good at - depending on who you asked, it was the only thing he'd ever been good at. He'd told himself that the Viscount thing was only temporary, that one day the Red Lyrium would disappear from whence it'd come, that there was hope for Bartrand, that there'd come a night where he'd walk into the Hanged Man and find them all sitting there same as ever, grinning and laughing and fighting over shit that didn't matter with the same fervor and frenzy as the shit that did. And he'd told himself that Hawke would be fine, that if anyone could keep the Wardens from killing themselves before the Inquisition could wring the last drops of usefulness from them, it would be her.

Now he told himself he was ready to hear what Weisshaupt's ambassador had come all the way to Kirkwall to tell him. He told himself he didn't already know what it was.

But he did.

The antechamber was empty, which felt like an omen in and of itself. Usually it was bustling with activity, people waiting to complain to, or maybe just at, him; just then it was silent, even the grate cold with ashes, and not for the first time since taking the blighted post, he had to wonder if this was what Dumar had felt like, near the end. Tired, exasperated, hopeless, old.

For a moment, only the one, Varric stood outside the door to his office (also shut), and braced himself for what came next. He swallowed around the growing lump in his throat, took a breath, and opened the door. "Hope I haven't kept you waiting," he said by way of greeting...then froze.

"Waiting? Oh, by all accounts it's been an eternity! I'll have you know, I'm a very important person in Hightown, and if this is how you treat your constituents, then I simply don't know how y - " When she turned from his desk and caught sight of him for the first time, he watched the words catch in her throat. Saw them hitch there, clear as day.

The rest of the world seemed to catch with them.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed. They stood there, he at the door and she at his desk, and a lifetime spent together (even when apart) ensured in no uncertain terms that they were thinking the same thing, fearing the same thing: that breaking the silence would somehow break the illusion too, and they'd jolt awake in bed, or shake themselves from some daydream, and be left to sort through the feelings that would rise up when they remembered they were alone.

"Hawke?" Varric chanced, then again when she didn't fizzle away into the ether, "Hawke?"

"Oh, so you do remember me! Good, good!" She leaned herself back against his desk as he'd seen her do a million times before, her hands holding the edge as her shoulders rose in a demure shrug, one ankle crossing over the other, and if it hadn't been for the smattering of pale scars he couldn't remember or the way her hair had grown out, he might've been tricked into thinking no time had passed since last he'd seen her. "Now, I'm hoping you can help me, good serah...you see, I came here looking for my husband, but it seems I'm in the wrong place, because for the life of me, I don't remember him being half so handsome as you, or in possession of such a striking beard."

He meant to say something to that - he really did. Witty retorts were sort of their thing, after all, but...but the only sound that came out of him then was a breath so relieved, so thankful, that it left him dizzy. Without thinking - without being able to think - he crossed the room and took her face in his hands, wanting so badly to kiss her, but needing to reassure himself she was solid first, that she was there, and whole, and alive, and warm.

Hawke laughed, or tried to, the carefree facade he'd watched her hone to a fine point over the years crumbling to so much dust as she closed her hands over his and hiccuped her own little sob of relief. "You look so good as an old man," she kidded, her voice quavering as the first tired tears spilled over her cheeks. He felt them warm against his face as she kissed each of his scars, his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his lips, felt her chest fight to decide whether it was shaking from laughter or sobs. "Maybe it's a good thing I've been away so long - I'm sure I would've made a fool of myself by now, picking fights with anyone daft enough to make eyes at you from across the market square."

"For the love of - I'm not that old!" and he didn't know when, or how, but he was laughing right along with her (crying, too), his thumbs tracing the familiar shape of her cheekbones as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Shit, Hawke, I..." But how was he supposed to finish that thought when there were million things he might say?

I missed you. I'm so glad you're home. I can't believe you're here. I was so scared. I love you, I love you, I love you. They all fit, they were all true, and he meant each of them as much as any other.

"I know," she said, making the decision that much easier. "I know," she said again, kissing him one last time before pulling back to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "But here we are! Right where we belong. So!" She made a grand show of straightening back up, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she lifted a random sheaf of parchment from his desk, pretending to read it over while all the while her other hand squeezed his, reluctant to let go. "What's on the docket for today, Viscount Tethras?"

He snatched the paper from her hand and set it back on the desk, once more pulling her down to him such that he could press his lips to her forehead. "Well," he began when he thought he had any shot at keeping his voice level, "I was thinking we should probably let some people know that the Viscountess is home."

She sniffled once, but there was no missing the mischief in her eyes or the wicked smirk slowly but surely curling at the corners of her mouth. "And after the impromptu and debauched celebrations that will no doubt ensue?"

Varric shook his head and held her close, his head much too a mess to think past the next moment, much less the coming days. "I was thinking maybe I'd strangle Bran for making me think there was bad news coming out of Weisshaupt, actually. Been giving a lot of thought to it, if I'm being honest."

"Oh, go easy on him, would you? He did get bad news today." She grinned, and Varric was helpless but to join her. "The Viscountess is home, after all!"

"And home to stay," he added.

"She doesn't really have much choice now, does she?" Hawke teased, still grinning that grin of hers, her eyes jewel-bright behind the tears welling up again. "Not now that she's seen how dignified and sophisticated her lord husband looks with a beard! No, I don't think there's any getting rid of her now." Her lower lip quivered just a touch, just enough for him to notice, and then she buried her face in his shoulder, clutching onto him as though he were the only thing keeping her afloat in that silent office. "I think you're stuck with her for good."

He decided then and there that he'd been wrong his whole life. A story didn't need a death at the end of it to stick with you. The hero didn't need to die for the tale to be a worthwhile one. In fact, fuck those stories. Happy endings were so incredibly underrated.

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Find the word!

I was tagged by both @kittensartswriting and @winterandwords, so I supposed I might just do them together!

My words to find were: cat, wound, hazy and wrong fight, fear, fly, and flow

Tagging! @mjjune, @sleepyowlwrites, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @magic-is-something-we-create, @agrimedena-drax

If you want to play go find the words Slam, House, Desk, and Silk

Cat (Couldn't find it or any variations)

Wound

Fiadris was more like a wild imp, and treated as such. The human called himself Bran, and had given her enough reason to think that he was different. Bran had found her after she’d been wounded, had dragged her back to his cabin near the edge of the woods and nursed her human side back to health. He hadn’t fought her when she ran out into the woods, and had been bringing food and drink out to her since she did so. He’d done nothing but be kind to her, and she was starting to like it.

Hazy: Nope, but I had Fog:

My coat added a sloppy circle around the coat rack as I slung it into place, hanging the squirrels above it and sliding my rifle against the doorframe. I nabbed a dirty towel from a nearby chair and wiped down, squeezing the rest of the rain from my black hair. The sun finally rose outside the window, golden light catching in the thick fog. I could barely see the street below. I switched on the nearby radio and began to change.

Wrong

“Bran!” the one in the lead called out again. Fiadris could just hear him above the rain. He had a different accent than Bran. “What’s this you called us about? Another little experiment gone wrong?”

Fight

She grabbed his arm and pulled back. “You can’t!” she hissed. “You promised not to use it!!” He shook her off, waving the gargoyle forward. It growled, but William gave a command word and it began to move. “I have to.” he said. “I’m not strong enough to fight that many mages of that level. I’ll need help.”

Fear

Steal some clothes. Ride out east. Survive without a reputation of fear to lean on, use her money in such a way the secure necessary supplies but without raising suspicion. Somehow keep small feral possibly-not-quite-all-human child alive until she was old enough to do so herself. That one was probably the hardest on the list. She wasn’t exactly the most motherly type. Then again, her own mother hadn’t exactly been the most tender and Jo had survived this long. She could at least do as good as her own parents, she was fairly sure of that.

Fly

The child screamed. The blanket was in his claws. A vine whipped out, wrapped around his ankle. Tethered him to the ground. Another yanked the blanket from his claws. Another wrapped around his waist, another around his chest and his wings. He couldn’t fly anymore, struggling as her vines held him in the air. Lifted him up. Slammed him back into the ground.

Flow

She grunted, waved at the breeze and disrupted its flow for a second, scattering the small form of wind around her. “It’s Fiadris,” she said. “And my father was–” she hesitated. Taeda had warned her against telling strange sprites about her heritage. She still wasn’t sure why, but both her parents had been firm on this. Unless it was a sprite or a human that they knew, she was not to speak of the fact that her mother was a sprite and her father was a human mage. So instead, she said, “my father was fine with me talking to humans, even mages. Besides, this is the first time you’ve come and spoken with me, while he has come to try and speak to me every day. Why should I believe you and not he?”

Thanks! ❤😁

[in-my-feels-probably]

hey love!! I just saw your follower celebration post and first of all wanted to congratulate you!! 💗 second of all, wanted to thank you for making such a post and inadvertently bringing me to your blog, which I’d somehow missed in the countless binge-reads across fandoms on this hellsite! cant wait to read through more of your stuff, I’ve set a reminder on my phone to start this weekend! ♡

if it’s ok, I’d like to go for option one with either Jon Snow or Brienne of Tarth (I know Brienne isnt on your masterlist so if you’re more comfortable writing for Jon that’s perfectly ok with me!!), my name’s Heather, Im 5’0” and I’ve got shoulder length wavy light blue hair; personality wise I’ve got some dark lore (trauma but in a cool way 😎) which has caused some severe memory issues, but generally speaking Im very bubbly, excitable, and overall the furthest thing from the broody character you’d expect from a backstory like mine lol. my reasons for loving Brienne and Jon are much the same: their strength in the face of prejudice, the morally golden characters they’ve become despite their emotional hardships, and their equally protective natures which Im a total sucker for! naturally, I am in love with them both so a romantic blurb over a platonic one would make me feral 😌

in terms of prompts/scenarios, I really dont have anything specific in mind, Im just so excited to see what you write for either of these characters!! please dont feel at all rushed to do this, and if for any reason you arent comfortable writing it, I completely understand and respect your decision and I’ll look forward to your next works!! hope you have the most wonderful day! 🥰♡

hi :)

first off, thank you so much for the kind words. i hope you enjoy my work, let me know what you think! (and im apologizing for some of my older stuff, it’s a little rusty.)

second, if you scroll down my page a little bit, i’ll tag you in it, i have a post about all the characters im currently accepting requests for. so if you have any requests, i’ll gladly take them.

so i’m actually not doing this followers celebration anymore, i’ll do another one like this for 700 which should be semi soon, i’ll do a full one of these for you went it comes.

but i feel bad that you typed all this out, so i’m gonna do a quick version of what i was doing for the celebration. and again, if you think of a scenario and like any of the characters i write for, i’ll gladly write an x reader for you.

i’m gonna go with jon, since i’ve done one of these before for him, and he’s on my list of characters i’ll currently write for. but i do think brienne would like you a lot, too, for similar reasons.

jon very much understands what it’s like to have trauma but in a cool way. except he broods, you don’t. you’d definitely balance each other out, which he’d appreciate. i think he’d find it inspiring to see someone who’s been through some shit, but still chooses the optimist outlook. he’d strive to be more like you. he’s such a strong person, he’s overcome so much, and i think he’d really value having a person who’s had similar experiences. he’d connect to you purely based off the fact that he can relate on a deeper level. you’d bring him his little joys in life. he couldn’t help but fall for you when he’d see you standing tall and stoic, smiling in the face of adversity. he’d think you were the bravest person he’s ever known. his personal hero.

he’d understand that your memory issues stem from trauma. he probably has them himself, trying to recollect his childhood. but i think he’d find it endearing that you’d forget little things, especially if you grew up in the north together.

when you both finally made your way back to winterfell, you and sansa would share stories and memories. jon would sit with you, softly smiling.

“that was the year bran was born, love,” he’d gently correct.

you’d furrow your brows, shaking your head. “no. i’m quite sure, it was rickon.”

“it was neither,” sansa interrupted, grinning. “neither were born that year. father had his hands full, and my mother promised him peace and quiet for a summer. but bran was already born, so rickon would’ve been next.”

you’d smile, turning to jon. “i was closer.”

he’d sulk and you’d laugh, squeezing his hand. “we were both wrong. why are you pouting?”

he’d squeeze back, his eyes softening. he couldn’t help but give you a small smile at the sound of your laugh.

“i hate when you’re right. it’s far too often.”

you’d smile back. “get used to it, love.”

—

i hope you enjoyed this. thank you again for participating, im sorry i couldn’t write more. i hope i’ll see you for the next celebration, and thank you for supporting my work. i hope you enjoy it. i’ll tag you in that post for characters im currently accepting requests for, in case you want to send me one :)

[leesielex]

Hi! I think you know me, we’ve talked a lot on AO3! I want to ask you something. What do you think Dany’s ending will be in the books? Obviously it won’t be what we got in that dumb S8 shit that was D&D’s fanfic. She won’t go mad and burn KL and she’s not going to be suffer that disgusting sexist fate D&D agave her with Jon. I believe she will survive. But what do you think? Do you think she’ll become Queen despite the stuff about “King Bran”? Bran becoming King of Westeros doesn’t seem in line with his arc. What if Bran becomes King of the North or not even a monarch but King of magic or something like that? George is very adamant about portraying the difficulties and challenges of ruling and he’s given Dany an arc concerning that. He even said Dany would be a good ruler. So I don’t see her not being Queen because it wouldn’t pay off her arc learning how to rule. But… what I want most is Dany and Jon and Arya to survive and live peaceful lives. But the best ending for me would be Jon and Dany restoring and rebuilding the Targaryen rule and becoming King and Queen with Arya as their Warden of the North, maybe Tyrion as Hand or Warden of the West or maybe something else, and Bran as the guardian of magic. But as long as Dany and Jon and Arya survive I will be perfectly happy even if the ending is King Bran of Westeros. But what do you think is going to be the ending? Do you think Dany will survive? Will she be Queen?

Of course I remember you! I hope you are doing well and thank you so much for the ask!

Well... as much as I wish Dany, Jon and Arya could survive and live happy and peaceful lives after the Long Night and defeating death itself, I do not think that will happen. I absolutely do not believe for a second that Dany will die at Jon's hand, not even for Jon to become Azor Ahai and stab Dany as Nissa Nissa. I think that Drogo was Nissa Nissa and Dany killed him to hatch drogon, which is her fiery sword, her lightbringer. Jon also already killed his own "wife" when he betrayed Ygritte and it lead to her death. He did steal her in a way and by Wildling customs he was basically married to her. His lightbringer may be rhaegal, OR he will wield Dawn, the sword I think is lightbringer if one exists. Darkstar will steal the sword and serve FAegon and from there it somehow ends up in Jon's presence and he will borrow the sword to bring the long night. I think dawn is the original ICE sword. As we hear in the books that Ned's Ice is not the first. Jon of course will not go beyond the wall sent in exile. And Arya will not sail off West of Westeros alone from her family and home and all that in that abhorrent season 8.

Unfortunately, I also do not think Jon or Dany will survive. If any will get the ending you wish for them, I believe it will be Arya. We know the ending will be bittersweet, but more than that, I think to break the wheel, the Targaryen dynasty must actually end, as much as I personally hate it and want for Dany and Jon to have their Targ restoration and bring dragons back for good and have lots of babies. Sadly that would inevitably lead to more of the same when it comes to fire, and the point is to restore the balance of ice and fire.

While we know that before the Targs United Westeros, the Seven Kingdoms were constantly at war amongst themselves and each other, the Targs also brought subjugation and war and destruction as well, and no matter how fruitful and peaceful a Jonerys reign would be, undoubtedly when too many dragons exist, and many years have passed and people forget how terrible war is, generations down the line another dance would eventually occur and/or bad and terrible kings and queens would come into power.

I believe that the point of the story is for Dany and Jon to restore the Targaryen LEGACY and NAME but not the power and dynasty. And to do that without it being tarnished again, is for them to undo all their ancestors did, like Dany is doing in Essos. It was the Valyrians who started the slavery in slavers bay that still exists today, and Daenerys is breaking that generational trauma inflicted by crushing the slave trade and undoing the bad her ancestors caused before her. The dragons established slavery but Dany and her dragons free the slaves.

Targaryens and their dragons have garnered a poor reputation thanks to the Dance and to her mad father and rulers like Maegor the Cruel. Dany and Jon as Targaryens will Sacrafice their lives to end the Long Night and save the world. In doing so, they become the ultimate heroes of legend, thus restoring the Targaryen legacy and name. I believe the dragon(s) that survive will never have another rider and will basically become wild as animals are intended to be. They will probably go back to Valyria to live in peace and maintain the balance of fire so the Others never rise again.

The Stark kids direwolves' names mean something in this story. Grey Wind or Robb's unclear or grey decisions, like executing Karstark for treason but letting his mother get away with it, and words are wind, his fleeting honor and duty changing as the wind blows. Then Shaggydog, the story so inconsequential it's a joke. Lady is straightforward for Sansa. But I bring this up mainly for the 3 direwolves in the ask, so let's go with Jon and Ghost. A ghost is basically someone who is dead still and existing in the realm of the living to tie up lose ends. Once that unfinished business and lose ends are completed, they then are able to move on and rest in the afterlife. This is what I believe Jon's story will be.

Bran's wolf is Summer. In Winter we dream of an unending summer, this symbolizes hope, started anew with life after a long winter, innocence (ie, sweet summer child) and Bran will be a King of Summer. However, I do NOT believe he will become King of the Seven Kingdoms. Bran will either become a monarch more like the English monarchs, as more of a figurehead of a power that has been dissolved while they shift more towards a democratic system (otherwise how would they break the wheel while they continue to have more of the same?) OR they will all become independent kingdoms with all their own governing styles etc., with Bran as King in the North, like the Warg Kings or Greenseer Kings of old, of the First Men and Children of the Forrest that sat upon a weirwood throne. In this I think that perhaps Bran will be a figurehead God-King of Westeros vs the true king and ruler where his word is law like the Kings of the Seven Kingdoms were.

Of course this is entirely conjecture tho I do know D&D seemed to only know 3 things from when they met GRRM to discuss what happens after ADWD.

1. the burning of Shireen, which will be hugely different in the books. Book Stannis would never let Melisandre burn his daughter. He adores Shireen and orders for his army to continue fighting to place her on the throne as his heir if he dies. In the books Stannis is not a zealot follower of RH'llor and while he has seen Melisandre's magic, he is also wary of her. Stannis will prob be dead at this point and they burn Shireen to resurrect him but instead resurrect Jon.

2. Hodor - Hold the door. This will play out somewhat the same, but also different. I can even see this happening not at the cave but somewhere as they head back to the Wall and stay somewhere for the night, or maybe at the Nightfort door or a door on the Wall instead in the books.

3. King Bran. So I do think that this will happen in the books in some capacity.

Finally Arya. Arya's arc will be different by a lot I believe. I'm not sure how she will get out of the House of White and Black but I think they will try to use her in some way. There is a deeper reason they want her. With them being at Oldtown looking for information, I think they are privy to a lot more than we realize and that they may have understood or sensed Arya's strong skinchanger magic. I can't imagine with this sort of magic they have to change faces and then have access to that person's personality and memories that they can't sense skinchanger magic, that they have no clue Arya is seeing through the alley cat when she is blinded. I can actually see them blinding her so she is forced to hone her senses which included skinchanging. She has been at the HWB for how long? And when she dreamed sleeping next to Lommy, Gendry, Hotpie they said she growled in her sleep and such while she was warging into Nymeria, so none of the faceless men overheard her doing something to that affect at night in all the time she was there? I got so far off track. Lol.

Anyway, her arc is reclaiming her identity, and then going home! I believe Sansa will set right the Vale, the place her father was raised, that Littlefinger now runs, and Arya will go to the Riverlands first and set right the Tully ancestral lands, and give her mother who has avenged her fam against the Freys, the mercy of death. When Arya kills Lady Stoneheart, not only will she give her mother peace, she will be facing and killing/defeating the revenge/vengeance within herself. Then she will go back home, where she has been trying to get to since she left really, only failing to do so because it wasn't safe. I would prefer her to become the ruler of Winterfell/the North, but she may stay in the Riverlands to rule at Riverrun while Bran rules the North from Winterfell. Perhaps she returns North for the wights/white walkers to attack, and just like her wolf's namesake, she leads the refugees, her people, to safety down to the Riverlands where she helps Jon/Dany defeat the Others at the Trident. I am not sure exactly which route she will go, but it isn't to leave home when she finally gets it back. She will come full circle instead of thinking she isn't meant to be a lady, etc., she will realize she doesn't have to conform to society's view of what it means to be a Lady and can rule in her own right just as she is.

This ended up being so much longer than I anticipated. Lol. I wish I could tell you I believe all our favorites live Happily Ever After but I do not think that is the case for Jonerys. Though I really hope I am wrong!

[hearthtales]

His words carried reassurance. Maude gave a short hum of acknowledgment, but otherwise she stayed silent, her focus still on the map and her mind lost in thought. Her teeth dug into her lip as she debated what to do with Samhain’s discovery. Perhaps she could add a few more wards. Just to be safe.

She heard him say Bran’s name, and then — He’s been fae-touched, hasn’t he?

Her breath snagged in her throat. Fear flitted across her face in the brief second she looked at Samhain, and the fire on the hearth wavered again, nearly dying this time. A dozen thoughts raced through her mind in a heartbeat. How had he found out? What had they failed to hide? This didn’t matter in the moment, though. All that mattered was that he had puzzled it out somehow, and Maude found she couldn’t bring herself to deflect or deny it.

Her gaze flicked back to the map. The fire regained its strength. “That’s got nothing to do with you,” she said quietly. There was no harshness in her voice; just an undercurrent of something tired and defeated. She inhaled to steady herself and went on as she rolled the map back up. “You can study the river as much as you’d like, but leave Bran alone when it comes to this. There’s nothing you can do for us.”

She offered the rolled-up map to Samhain. Worry filled her eyes and slipped into her tone despite her efforts to hide it. “I need you to be safe, Sam. That means you can’t get tangled up in this. Alright?”

He definitely noticed the tense change within Maude when she asked about the fae. She didn't look pleased one bit. Wary, more like it - but then again, it would have been stranger if she wasn't. The fae were dangerous if one didn't know how to protect oneself against them and their trickery. Some courts had grown mellow with time, preferring to keep to themselves and what little green they had left of the old world. But some still enjoyed messing around with others, especially humans; only because they were just so damn easy to fool around with and taunt. The fae could be as cruel as they were harmless - it was just a matter of how they were feeling that particular day.

"No. Yer wards make sure o'that," Samhain promptly answered. "Unclaimed only by mythos definition. It's possible that any mythos living around here are already aware o'the river, else it wouldn't be on the map. But they're aware it's property of the inn," pointed out the ghoul, his finger tracing the wide surface area the inn covered on the document. "An' the inn belongs to you, a human."

He let Maude have the map for a moment, seeing her study it so intently. He crossed his arms over his chest, mulling over a thought. Since they were being forthright about a few things, he thought it wouldn't hurt to ask. "Yer boy, Bran... He's been fae-touched, hasn't he?"

[downtownbunnybaby]

Firsts With Brandon DiCamillo

Brandon DiCamillo x G!N Reader!

Description: All your firsts with Dico. Fluff SFW.

A/N: Well, it's finally here! This is my first time writing in a while so sorry if it's kinda mid. Also why it took me forever to write. I really enjoyed writing this so send me more requests! ♥️

Hug:

You were up on Bam’s roof, skateboard in one hand and the other giving your friends below the finger. How did you end up in this situation? Bam was the one who did skating stunts, and Ryan was always the one jumping off a high place, but somehow, you managed to take both of their bits. The stunt involved you skating down the roof and landing on the ramp below. All while attempting to avoid breaking all your bones. 

“...and we’re rolling,” yelled Bam, panning the camera to Dico’s terrified yet slightly impressed face at your bravery. 

Well, there was no going back now. Cursing, you rapidly made your way down. Everything was going smoothly. You thought you’d make it, and so did your friends as they began to cheer. However, in true CKY fashion, you lost control of the board, launching yourself forward and crashing into the tree Bam had jumped onto countless times. You instinctually grabbed onto the jagged branches, trying your best to climb down but ultimately missing the final steps, which solidified your final slam on the ground. Dico was the first to run over. 

“Y/N, are you okay? Speak to me,” 

Your eyes were closed, and the throbbing at your temples made it strenuous to distinguish what was happening. 

“That was awesome, but I need you to open your eyes.” He sounded concerned at the fact you were unresponsive, besides the slight contort of your nose at the loud laughing and annoyingly bright sun. You finally opened your eyes, instantly laughing at your current state. 

“Bran, I’m okay. Just a few scratches and a little blood.” You laughed again at your poor attempt to conceal your pain. There were more than a few scratches and a little blood littering your body. Dico brought you in a tight embrace as he helped you to your feet, trying not to hurt you anymore. Despite the blood leaking from your cuts staining his shirt, he continued to hug you. 

“You’re never doing anything like that again.” He said, leading you into the house to patch you up. 

“Actually — I think they might have to,” It was Bam. “I don’t think I was recording.” 

Holding hands:

You were all in Bam’s living room, discussing possible skits and stunts to include in the next CKY video. You were distracted by the insanity unfolding in the room; Bam seeing how hard he could slap Raab, you subconsciously grabbed Dico’s hand, laughing at your best friend's antics. Dico instantly noticed, head snapping to the soft hands intertwined with his rough, calloused ones. He had been attempting to hold your hand all day but was afraid you wouldn't reciprocate the feeling. Yet, here you were. The casualty of holding each other’s shocks your surrounding friends. Groans and sounds of disgust surround the room. Confusion settles in at the reaction of your friends. Nothing gross had happened. As far as you could tell, Raab was still fully clothed, and no foul odor followed him. Looking around for the cause of their reactions, you ask, 

“What happened? Did Raab sh—” 

You’re interrupted by Bam making an exceptionally dramatic comment, 

“Ew! Why are you two holding hands?!” 

You bring your hand up to eye level. A slight heat paints your face at the realization that you’re holding the hand of your long-time crush. The embarrassment settles in as you try to pry your hand from Dico’s. However, his grip remains tight, flashing his signature smile, almost a reassurance, confirming that he feels the same way you do. Once again, sounds of disgust and an exaggerated gag from the drama queen Bam Margera fill the room. 

“Dunn, get me a bucket. I think I’m going to be sick.” 

First date:

Your first “date” was casual and felt like any other day in Westchester. It was a filming day for the new CKY video. The day consisted of shooting shopping cart stunts in several locations around town. The sun had set, and the group resided in a near-empty grocery store parking lot for the last skit of the day. Both you and Dico wore medieval costumes, wielding comically large swords. You and Dico sat on the pavement as Rake and Raab collected most of the shopping carts in the vicinity. 

Dico stood up as Rake and Raab returned with the carts. Putting on his best medieval British accent, he points his sword at you and back to the cart. 

“Y/N, would you do me the honors of accompanying me on my chariot to defend my kingdom?” Giggling at his impression, you attempt the same accent. 

“Sire DiCamillo it would be my honor.” 

Of course, yours would never be as good as his, but regardless, he laughs at your attempt as you both jump into the cart. He gives a goofy smile as Bam prepares to launch you into a nearby bush. 

Kiss:

Poor boy has wanted to kiss you for so long. Even when his feelings for you were nothing more than platonic, he always wondered what it would feel like to kiss you. So, when it happened, he was simply beaming. 

You two were alone for what seemed like the first time in all the years you had known him. No skateboard thrown angrily in the distance, no crashing sounds, and moans of pain following. It was just you, Dico, and your increasingly rapid beating heart. You had decided to go on a late-night drive. Typically all the boys would join you, but tonight you just wanted Dico. Along with the empty roads, he was your piece of sanity in an otherwise hectic life. Parking in an abandoned parking lot, turning the stereo off, you look at Dico. 

“Thanks for coming along,” He looked so pretty. The moon's light perfectly reflected on his face, highlighting his best features. You tried your best not to stare as he spoke. 

“Of course, Y/N,” Smiling softly, his gaze lingered on your lips. Despite your immense nervousness, you took the opportunity, leaning in and closing the gap between you two. The kiss is everything you expected, soft and sweet. You could feel his smile as you continued to kiss, placing your hands on his chest. God, you could get used to this. 

He intends to tell everyone after it happens. Unfortunately, Rake is the first victim. 

“Rake, did you know Y/N kissed me last night.” 

“For the hundredth time, yes. Please go tell someone else.” Although Rake is slightly annoyed by Dico constantly telling him you two kissed, he enjoys seeing his friend happy. Especially after having to hear him complain for years about your partners at the time and how you should be with him. Of course, when you meet the group at Bam’s house, they’re all mocking and imitating you and Dico kissing.  

Sleeping in the same bed / cuddling:

Being friends with the CKY crew meant constantly being over at each other's houses. If April was tired of your group's antics, your house became the designated filming or hangout site. Today had been a particularly long filming session, and as much as you loved being with your friends, it was late, and you were beyond tired. Overnight stays at your house were nothing new. It was common for several of the guys to crash on your couch or bedroom floor. Getting up from your spot on the floor between Dico and Raab, who were already dozing off, you excused yourself from the group. 

“How come Dico gets to sleep in your bed while we have to fight for your leftovers,” says Bam, whining as you offer your hand to Dico. 

Dico interjects before you can respond, “Because I’m Y/N’s favorite,” he said matter-of-factly, earning another whine from Bam. Laughing at the rest of the boys fighting for your guest bedroom and couch, you head upstairs. There was an underlying nervousness as you slowly got into bed. Of course, Dico had slept in your bed plenty of times, but this was different. Maybe it was because you were romantically involved now or how pretty he looked under your black duvet. His eyes fluttered, a dopey smile sneaking into a yawn, brushing the hair covering the side of your face as he kissed you goodnight. It felt so natural, your cheek pressed against his chest, his chin on your head, limbs intertwined. He held you tight enough to satisfy his desire to protect you in such a vulnerable state. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever, Bran,” Before he could respond, Ryan and Bam barged into your bedroom. 

“See Dunn. I told you they were being gross and cuddling. I’m Y/N’s favorite. Dico just happens to be better than me at cuddling.” 

@ckygetsjobs @spoookyberry