#ch: king robert i

[trhor]

Wikipedia page of King Robert I After several days, I finally managed to make something that looks like a Wikipedia page. HD version right here

[feyhunter78]

the way your jon snow fic has the most VICOUS hold on me. like i love it so much you have no idea. please please add me to that tag list! also whens the next part coming out i beg to know.

I can do that, and I'll do ya one better and drop the next chapter right here!!!!!

Chapter Eleven - Another marriage, and now a few moons later Queen Margaery has settled into her throne and it is time to celebrate her nameday with yet another feast, this time in Highgarden.

Ch 12

When your Uncle Jamie—really your only uncle now, as your Uncle Robert is long dead—slips back inside your aunt’s solar, he seems different, withdrawn, and pensive. You blame it on the death of his eldest child, wishing to not worry about whatever he and Jon spoke of. Though you know he is not so broken up about Joffrey’s death, he never truly liked the boy.

Your aunt is calm now, only a few stray tears and sniffles, Tommen curled in her lap. Your grandsire sitting in a chair his back ramrod straight, your father standing by your side as you lean against the table, your eyes on the large windows overlooking the Keep.

“We must uncover the assassins and hold a proper funeral for the king.” Your aunt says, her arms wrapped tightly around Tommen.

“We must write to Myrcella first; she needs to know of Joffrey’s death from us, not strangers.” You argue.

“No, we must secure the safety of all members of the royal family.” Your uncle says, his arms folded across his chest.

Your grandsire sighs. “You are all wrong, first we must arrange for Lady Margaery to marry Tommen and place Tommen on the throne, we cannot waste time, every second he does not sit on the Iron Throne more schemes to take it from him are hatched.”

“He is barely half her age.” Cersei protests.

You look at your father, this must be part of the plan, though you do not understand how, it must be. Besides, Tommen is a sweet boy, he will not harm her, nor will Margaery harm him.

“Grandsire is right, we cannot allow the Tyrells to slip from our fingers.” You say, earning a look of approval from your grandsire, one you so rarely get.

So now you stand in the crowd once more, dressed less lavishly than you were for Joffrey’s wedding, watching as Tommen and Margaery say their vows. The affair is duller, quieter, Margaery of course looks beautiful, but you cannot find it in yourself to be joyous. Your father has not explained how this is part of the plan. The wedding has happened, the vows were said, how is she to marry Robb while Tommen still lives? Perhaps an annulment? It would make sense; Tommen is far too young; no bedding will happen until he is of age. But it does not make sense in terms of succession.

You wring your hands, trying to piece together some way Robb can take the throne while Tommen still lives. Then the ceremony is over, the feasting and dancing commences, and Tommen seems…happy. That is truly all you want for him, happiness, but there is a cloud hanging over you that you cannot shake.

As you disperse with the rest of the crowd, a tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned man steps into your view, his fine clothing colorful and cut in a distinct fashion.

“Lady y/n, may I have this dance?” Lord Oberyn Martell extends his hand, and you take it, giving him a gracious smile.

Myrcella has written of Oberyn, of his quick wit, of the way he dotes on his daughters, how he cares greatly for nieces and nephews, and though he still holds her at a distance he is not unkind to her. Despite all that she still warns you to be wary of him, that he earned the name Red Viper for a reason.

The song is familiar, the steps easy, and you fall in line with the other dancers, gliding and turning on beat, the melodious strings accompanied by clear toned woodwinds invoking the image of young lovers enjoying a spring day.

“Your cousin speaks highly of you.” Lord Oberyn says, his words far more accented than Jon’s, but still clear as day.

“I do miss her.” You twirl then return within his arm’s reach.

“Trystane takes good care of her I can assure you; I have never seen a young man more smitten than him” There is a look on his face, one of mischief, and he gracefully inclines his head towards Jon. “Though your White Wolf could put up a fair fight.”

“He is devoted, as a sworn sword should be.” You say nonchalantly, before attempting to turn the conversation back to Myrcella.

Oberyn stops you, dipping you low, a devilish smile on his handsome face directed towards someone you cannot see, though you imagine it is Jon. “If that is the case, then perhaps, I shall take your aunt up on her offer of further betrothals in Dorne.”

You stumble, catching the Dornish prince’s foot with the edge of your heel. “My apologies, My Lord.”

“No harm done; I expected such a reaction.”

“I think it would be best to speak with my father, not my aunt, if you wish to marry me to one of your nephews or cousins.” You say primly, curtsying to him once the dance has finished.

He presses your hand to his lips. “And if I wished to marry you myself? Would I still need to speak with your father.”

Your face burns and you snatch your hand away. “You have daughters younger than me, Prince Oberyn, and I do not think their mother would take kindly to another woman attempting to take her place. Nor would I want to. I mean no offense, but I cannot enter a marriage where I must share my husband, especially not when the other woman has had him first.”

He laughs, the sound warm, banishing the tension from the air around you, lifting the weight from your shoulders. It reminds you a little of how Jon laughs, the comfort it brings. Is this how all Dornish men laugh? If so, you can understand why Lyanna and Myrcella did not find it hard to fall for their own Dornish lovers.

“She would not, but she will appreciate your words.” He takes your hand gently, kissing it once more, then releasing you.

You give him a smile and gracefully take the arm of your next partner, then the next one then the next one, until finally Jon is able to steal you away, leading you back to your father.

“I have just turned down Oberyn Martell’s proposal, Father, I wished to let you know.” You say, a weary smile on your face as you slump in the chair next to him.

“Oh, did you? How bold these Dornish are, asking a girl for her hand without first consulting with her father.” Your father says, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

Jon stiffens from his place behind you.

“I reminded him he has daughters younger than me. Also, that I would not share my husband, it is too…unsavory for me, though of course I did not phrase it so.”

Your father snorts. “You told the Red Viper that you will not play the whore in your own marriage?”

You can hear Jon shifting his weight, and he hates when others use what he deems foul language in your presence. Though, you always remind him that Theon had given you quite the course in how to speak as a proper sailor does.

“No, I said I would not like to take the place of another woman.” You take a cube of cheese from his plate and pop it in your mouth. “Though perhaps I should have said lions are far too possessive to ever share their mates.” You catch sight of Jon in your peripheral and flash him a teasing smile.

He clears his throat and looks away, his arms clasped behind his back.

Jon has been oddly distant since the night of Joffrey’s death, and you fear it has more to do with whatever your uncle said to him than the death of the so-called king.

“Do you not think I spoke right, Ser Jon?” You ask, unable to resist drawing him into the conversation, though you know he would rather not participate.

“I think it is dishonorable to take more than one wife, or to have a mistress. It sullies not only the marital bed, but the house itself.” He says, his posture stiff, his words stilted.

You frown and your father shrugs before handing you another cheese cube.

The Roseroad toward Highgarden is well-kept, guards and small towns scattered along the winding road, the countryside lush and brimming with life. The air is cleaner here, sweet smelling compared to the unwashed filth that permeates the air of King’s Landing, and you are once again thankful that no one allowed your Aunt Cersei to take her gargantuan wheelhouse on this trip.

You are divided into smaller groups, within smaller wheelhouses, with windows that allow air to flow through. Your aunt is in one with her ladies, your father, uncle, and Tommen ride their horses alongside the guards, while you and Margaery were able to snag a wheelhouse to yourselves. Margaery claims she needs the extra space to prepare for her nameday festivities, and no one could deny their queen.

“We are a few hours out from my home, I cannot wait to show you the grounds, they are especially beautiful this time of year.” Margaery says, looking out the window, her face lit with a radiant smile.

It has been a few moons since her wedding to Tommen, and you have grown closer to the older girl, you and she are in fact Tommen’s favorite people and in turn spend much time together with or without him.

“I have heard tales, but I am sure words cannot compare.” You say, joining her at the window as she points out places she used to ride to with her brothers.

After a while of you two quietly enjoying the countryside, Margaery clears her throat delicately.  “Speaking of words.” She draws back from the window and pulls the curtain closed. “Have you heard anything from our dear redheaded friend?”

You scoot closer to her, lowering your voice to a whisper. “She writes to say that all is well, her home has fallen back into routine and regrets she is unable to attend the celebrations but holds out hope she will see us soon.”

“And what about…” Robb, she means Robb, she wishes to know if he thinks of her.

You reach into your satchel and dig out a letter, “I had been hoping to save it as a nameday present, but I guess I could give it to you now.”

After her and Tommen’s wedding your father roped you into secreting letters between Margaery and Robb, the seals were Hawthorne coming in, and Lannister going out. In truth, it made you feel part of a romantic story, playing the kind maid that helps the young lovers sneak away to be together.

Margaery rips open the letter and devours it, a soft smile on her face, her hand coming to cover her lips as her eyes begin to water.

“What, what did he say?” You ask, suddenly alarmed by the tears in your friend’s eyes.

She hands the letter to you, “he—he is so sweet.”

My dearest Lady Margaery,

I cannot tell you how delighted I still am each time your letters arrive, though I must admit my joy is dimmed by the continued reminder that you are wed to another. That I cannot speak freely of my affections for you. I know it is in name only, and that I should not be envious of a child no more than eight nearly nine namedays, but I am. To think that I, a man grown, is envious of a child for the mere fact that he is allowed to hold your hand. That he is allowed to call your name, to dance with you, it is shameful, but I would bear this shame and many others for you. There will come a day soon that we will be united, that I will take your hand and let all the realm know that you are not only my queen, but my heart’s desire.

I shall not drag on with sentiment lest I embarrass myself, so I will get to the meat of this letter. Sansa informed me it is to be your nameday soon, and that you will be traveling to Highgarden to celebrate. Part of me wished to set out for Highgarden the moment she said so, surely, I would be able to disguise myself well enough, but Sansa squashed that scheme quite quickly. Nevertheless, I am hopeful that Lady y/n will be able to present you with my gift. And if it is not too forward, I would ask that you wear it during the celebrations, and know that I am with you, that you carry my heart in your hands.

I have had your latest portrait replicated, made smaller, and set within a locket so that I might carry it around wherever I go. Theon teases me quite mercilessly about it, but I care not. While we are parted, I wish to do all I can to keep your visage beside me. The curve of your smile, the light in your eyes, and the soft blush that adorns your cheeks, they give me strength, and I will draw on them until we meet, and I no longer need drawn or painted images.

The Gods smiled upon the realm the day you were born, and I swear to you, when we are finally together, I will spend every moment I can making up for our time apart, especially your namedays.

-          Ever yours, Robb

“This is quite sweet; he has a way with words I would not expect.” You say, handing her the letter back.

“Why would he not? Even the way Jon spoke to you when he helped you into the wheelhouse was full of passion.” She bristles, holding the letter close to her chest.

You need only call for me, I will not be far. Perhaps have Ghost stay with you, it would ease my mind. He had said, before trying to force a very resistant Ghost into the wheelhouse. You thanked him but told him to let Ghost run free, knowing the direwolf would grow bored on the long journey.

You reach out and squeeze her hand. “I meant no offense, it is only that Jon has spent much time here, and Robb has not. I imagined they would speak differently, but it seems there is a hidden romantic streak in House Stark.”

She smiles, a pretty blush decorating her face, then she smooths out her expression and holds out her hand with the air of a queen. “My gift please?”

“Of course, My Queen.” You say, bowing your head ridiculously far as you hand her the small velvet bag.

She pulls the drawstrings open, gasping as she carefully pulls out the gift. It is a necklace made of gold and citrine, arranged in an elegant yet sturdy way, the gems draping down, the gold perfect and glowing against Margaery’s skin. “It is as he has described Grey Wind’s eyes.”

“Is there anything else?” You ask curiously, smiling as she holds it up to her chest once more.

She digs in the bag and finds a golden ring, engraved with the letters M and R in curling script, hidden within the rose emblem.

You hold out your hand for it, and she gives it to you. You fiddle with the edge of it until it pops open. Inside reveals a small, detailed portrait of a bright blue eye. “I wondered if he would go through with it.”

“Is that his?” Margaery asks, tracing the edges of the ring longingly.

“From what I remember it is, and Tommen also has blue eyes, so if anyone discovers it, they will be none the wiser.

She carefully replaces the gifts in their bag, and you feel a pang of sadness. You cannot imagine what she must feel like, married to a child, in love with a man she must keep secret, unable to even pretend they are merely friends, unable to freely send him letters.

A knock on the wheelhouse door pulls you from your thoughts. “My Queen, My Lady, we have nearly arrived.”

Highgarden is beyond beautiful, set upon a hill overlooking the Mander, built with clean white stone, and narrow towers that seem to scrape the clouds. Rows and rows of briar hedges, fields of flowers, and works of art tastefully scattered about the halls and grounds, complete the fairy tale look of the Tyrell’s castle, and you cannot wait to see more.

“And you must see the Three Singers, our Godswood is known throughout the realm for its beauty.” Margaery says, as the wheelhouse finally grinds to a halt and the door is pulled open.

“Sister,” Loras says, holding out his hand to her. “Welcome home.”

Margaery takes his hand, gracefully exiting the wheelhouse, her excitement radiating from her like rays of the sun. Then Loras goes to help you, but Jon’s hand is already there.

“My Lady, the Dowager Queen requires a word with you.” Jon says, his face unreadable, his eyes never lingering on you for too long.

“Thank you, Ser Jon, I will go to her once we have settled into our chambers.”

You sit and wait for your aunt, fiddling with your sleeves, birdsong, and the sound of harps playing floats in through the open window.

She sweeps in, head held high, and closes the window, plunging the room into dead quiet. “I know your father has been lenient with you since your poor mother died, but as your aunt, the only motherly figure in your life, I can no longer stand by and watch you waste away your future.”

“Beg pardon?”

She takes your hands, her expression soft, caring, one you have not seen since you were a little girl. “Y/N, we must find you a husband, a good man, who will provide for you, for your children.”

“Father said—”

“I know your father has filled your head with stories of freedom, and true love, but that is for children, and you have not been a child for some time now.” She takes the seat across from you, her ruby gown looking harsh and garish among the soft colors and fabrics of the guest chamber she has been given.

“You are right, I am no longer a child.” You agree, trying to give her an answer that betrays nothing of true value.

She brushes your cheek with her knuckles, her eyes looking for something, in your own. “Your mother was a great beauty, with a kind heart, far too kind. I do not want you making the same mistake she did. Not that you are a mistake, my darling girl, you are the only worthwhile thing that has ever come from my brother, but your mother did not examine her prospects wisely enough.”

“I do not have any prospects.” You tell her, torn between feeling comforted and wounded by her words.

“At tomorrow night’s feast there will be many lords from all across the realm, and you will dance with them, you will talk and flatter, and laugh at their jests even if they are not humorous.”

“But if I dance with so many, how will I know who is good?”

She gives you a smile and smooths down your hair. “Allow me to take care of that, I want you to enjoy yourself, and show the realm how delightful you are.”

“I will try.” You say, giving her a weak smile, hoping she believes it is born of nerves and not a complete lack of interest.

“You will do more than try, you will succeed.”

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film

[v-akarai]

References in Servamp

Arabian mythology

Jinn. Ch. 16

Greek mythology

Elpis. Ch. 75

Moirai. Ch. 108

Pandora. Ch. 130

Pygmalion. Ch. 123

Pandora's Box. Ch. 97

Japanese mythology

Gashadokuro. Ch. 129

Kitsune. Ch. 3

Raijin. Ch. 85

Norse mythology

Baldr. Ch. 39

Bifröst. Ch. 88

Brunhild. Ch. 88

Fimbulwinter. Ch. 40

Freya. Ch. 65

Frey. Ch. 131

Gleipnir. Ch. 101

Hati. Ch. 91, 131

Hod. Ch. 39

Hliðskjálf. Ch. 96

Idunn. Ch. 65

Loki. Ch. 15

Mimir. Ch. 29

Mjölnir. Ch. 53

Ragnarök. Ch. 101, 122, 131

Sigurd. Ch. 101

Thor. Ch. 41

Yggdrasil. Ch. 42

Biblical references

Abel. Ch. 8

Adam. Ch. 128

Boaz and Jachin. Ch. 42

Eden. Ch. 21

Eve. Ch. 1

John the Baptist. Ch. 122

Judith. Ch. 147

Lucifer. Ch. 135

Noah. Ch. 145

Nod. Ch. 29, events

Hinduism

Asura. Ch. 57.5, 89.

Tarot

The Fool - Mahiru. Ch. 50

I. The Magician – Night trio. Ch. 41

II. The High Priestess – Mikuni. Ch. 42

V. The Hierophant - Shuhei. Ch. 77

X. Wheel of Fortune - Junichiro. Ch. 53

XII. The Hanged Man - Tsurugi. Ch. 50

XV. The Devil – Shamrock. Ch. 72

XVI. The Tower - Touma. Ch. 47

XVII. The Star - Iduna. Ch. 73

XVIII. The Moon - Yumikage. Ch. 69

XX. Judgement - Mikuni. Ch. 144

Literary references

 "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" Lewis Carroll. Ch. 3, 4, 7, 19, 98, 122. Misono, Lily, Dodo, Mitsuki, Yamane, Hattori, Mikuni, Bad B and Good B.

"As You Like It" William Shakespeare. Ch. 10, 38.5. Mikuni's spell.

"My Fair Lady" English nursery rhyme. Ch. 10 Mikuni's spell.

"Dracula" Bram Stoker. Ch. 12, 30. Hugh.

"Romeo and Juliet" William Shakespeare. Ch. 23, 34. Hyde, Ophelia.

"Faust" by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. Ch. 29 Johannes.

"Through the Looking-Glass" Lewis Carroll. Ch. 29, events. Mikuni, Johannes.

"Julius Caesar" William Shakespeare. Ch. 23, 84. Hyde.

"Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" Robert Stevenson. Ch. 23, 37. Hyde, Licht.

"Macbeth" William Shakespeare. Ch. 24, 31. Kuro, Saint Germain, Mahiru.

"Night on the Galactic Railroad" Kenji Miyazawa. Ch. 26, 142. Higan, Tsubaki.

"The Little Prince" Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. Ch 30, 67. Kuro, Mahiru, Sloth demon, Gear, probably Jeje.

"Hamlet" William Shakespeare. Ch. 33, 34. Hyde, Ophelia.

"The Phantom of the Opera" Gaston Leroux. Ch. 36 Licht and Hyde technique.

"Peter and Wendy" James Barry. Ch. 44, 56, 74. Tsurugi, Touma, Mahiru.

"Ring a Ring o' Roses" nursery rhyme. Ch. 53 Junichiro's spell.

“Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens” James Barry. Ch. 53, 75. Tsurugi, Touma.

"Death in Venice" Thomas Mann. Ch. 55 Gilbert technique.

"Total Eclipse" a play by Christopher Hampton. Ch. 55 Rayscent's technique.

"The Morning of the Last Farewell" Kenji Miyazawa. Ch. 57.5 Tsubaki.

"Spring and Asura" Kenji Miyazawa. Ch. 57.5 Tsubaki.

"The Catcher in the Rye" Jerome Salinger. Ch. 62 Shuhei.

"Four and Twenty Blackbirds" Agatha Christie. Ch. 62 Shuhei's spell.

"Metamorphosis" Franz Kafka. Ch. 62 Shamrock technique.

“The Nighhawk's Star” Kenji Miyazawa. Ch. 62, 76. Shamrock technique.

"Rock-a-bye Baby" an English lullaby. Ch. 70 Touma's spell.

“Schlafe, mein Prinzchen, schlaf ein” lullaby. Ch. 70 Touma's spell.

"Who Killed Cock Robin" an English nursery rhyme. Ch. 70 Yumikage's spell.

"The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" Lyman Frank Baum. Ch. 70, 88. Tsukimitsu brothers’ spells.

"Daddy-Long-Legs" Jean Webster. Ch. 74. Dark Night Trio, Touma.

"King Lear" William Shakespeare. Ch. 86. Hyde.

"The House of the Sleeping Beauties" Yasunari Kawabata. Ch. 86. Iori.

"The Divine Comedy" Dante Alighieri. Ch. 118, 120, 121. Niccolo, Ildio, Gluttony demon.

“A Brute's Love” (人でなしの恋) Edogawa Rampo. Ch. 122 Mikuni, Lily.

"Coppelia" ballet Leo Delibes. Chapter 122 Mikuni, Lily.

"Salome" Oscar Wilde. Ch. 122, 147. Mikuni, Lily.

"Turandot" opera by Giacomo Puccini based on the play by Carlo Gozzi. Ch. 129, 136. Lily.

"The Tempest" William Shakespeare. Ch. 131. Licht and Hyde.

"The Old Man and the Sea" Ernest Hemingway. Ch. 134 Hugh.

"Flowers for Algernon" Daniel Keyes. Ch. 135 Hugh.

"Jane Eyre" Charlotte Brontë. Ch. 136. Hokaze.

"Madama Butterfly" opera by Giacomo Puccini. Ch. 136. Lily.

"Hansel and Gretel" the Brothers Grimm. Ch. 140. Faust and Otogiri.

"Girl Hell" Yumeno Kyusaku. Ch. 147. Mikuni, Noah.

Music

"Für Elise" by Ludwig van Beethoven. Ch. 34

"Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" by Johann Sebastian Bach. Ch. 125

Sonata No. 17 "Tempest" by Ludwig van Beethoven. Ch. 131

Movies

"It's a Wonderful Life" (1946). Ch. 131

"Life is Beautiful" (1997). Ch. 131

I believe this list can be expanded. Somewhere I’ve written only chaps when some reference was mentioned for the first time and omitted all further mentions.

Special thanks to hello-vampire-kitty, joydoesathing and passmeabook, because some works wouldn’t be included in the list without their observations.

[ghelgheli]

The Stuff I Read in September 2023

Stuff I Extra Liked Is Bold

Books

Orphans of the Sky, Robert A. Heinlein

Starship Troopers, Robert A. Heinlein

Revenant Gun, Yoon Ha Lee

All Systems Red, Martha Wells

Artificial Condition, Martha Wells

Rogue Protocol, Martha Wells

Exit Strategy, Martha Wells

Friendship Poems, ed. Peter Washington

Introduction to Linear Algebra, ch. 1-3, Gilbert Strang

Manga (mostly yuri [really all yuri])

Yagate Kimi ni Naru / Bloom Into You, Nio Nakatani

Kaketa Tsuki to Dōnattsu / Doughnuts Under a Crescent Moon, Shio Usui

Onna Tomodachi to Kekkon Shitemita / Trying Out Marriage With My Female Friend, Shio Usui

Kimi no Tame ni Sekai wa Aru / The World Exists for You, Shio Usui

Teiji ni Agaretara / If We Leave on the Dot, Ayu Inui

Nikurashii Hodo Aishiteru / I Love You So Much I Hate You, Ayu Inui

Tsukiatte Agetemo Ī Kana / How Do We Relationship? Tamifull

Himegoto - Juukyuusai no Seifuku / Uniforms at the Age of Nineteen, Ryou Minenami

Colorless Girl, Honami Shirono

Short Fiction

It gets so lonely here, ebi-hime [itch.io]

Aye, and Gomorrah, Samuel R. Delaney [strange horizons]

Evolutionary Game Theory

Red Queen and Red King Effects in cultural agent-based modeling: Hawk Dove Binary and Systemic Discrimination, S. M. Amadae & Christopher J. Watts [doi]

The Evolution of Social Norms, H. Peyton Young [doi]

The Checkerboard Model of Social Interaction, James Sakoda [doi]

Dynamic Models of Segregation, Thomas C. Schelling [doi]

Towards a Unified Science of Cultural Evolution, Alex Mesoudi, Andrew Whiten, Kevin N. Laland [doi]

Is Human Cultural Evolution Darwinian? Alex Mesoudi, Andrew Whiten, Kevin N. Laland [doi]

Gender/Sexuality/Queer Stuff (up to several degrees removed)

Re-orienting Desire: The Gay International and the Arab World, Joseph Massad [link]

The Empire of Sexuality, Joseph Massad (interview) [link]

The Bare Bones of Sex, Anne Fausto-Sterling [jstor]

On the Biology of Sexed Subjects, Helen Keane & Marsha Rosengarten [doi]

Vacation Cruises: Or, the Homoerotics of Orientalism, Joseph A. Boone [jstor]

Romancing the Transgender Native: Rethinking the Use of the “Third Gender” Concept, Evan B. Towle & Lynn M. Morgan [doi]

Scientific Racism and the Emergence of the Homosexual Body, Siobhan Somerville [jstor]

White Sexual Imperialism: A Theory of Asian Feminist Jurisprudence, Sunny Woan [link]

Haunted by the 1990s: Queer Theory’s Affective Histories, Kadji Amin [jstor]

Annoying Anthro

The Sexual Division of Labor, Rebecca B. Bird, Brian F. Codding [researchgate]

Factors in the Division of Labor by Sex: A Cross-Cultural Analysis, George P. Murdock & Caterina Provost [jstor]

Biosocial Construction of Sex Differences and Similarities in Behavior, Wendy Wood & Alice H. Eagly [doi]

Political Theory

Some critics argue that the Internal Colony Theory is outdated. Here’s why they’re wrong, Patrick D. Anderson [link]

Toward a New Theory of Internal Colonialism, Charles Pinderhughes [link]

The Anatomy of Iranian Racism: Reflections on the Root Causes of South Azerbaijans Resistance Movement, Alireza Asgharzadeh [link]

The veil or a brother's life: French manipulations of Muslim women's images during the Algerian War, 1954–62, Elizabeth Perego [doi]

A Difficulty in the Concept of Social Welfare, Kenneth J. Arrow [jstor]

Manipulation of Voting Schemes: A General Result, Allan Gibbard [jstor]

China Has Billionaires, Roderic Day [redsails]

Other

Conversations I Can't Have, Cassandra Byers Harvin [proquest]

Earth system impacts of the European arrival and Great Dying in the Americas after 1492, Alexander Koch et al. [doi]

Why prisons are not “The New Asylums”, Liat Ben-Moshe [doi]

Uses of Value Judgments in Science: A General Argument, with Lessons from a Case Study of Feminist Research on Divorce, Elizabeth Anderson [doi]

Boundary Issues, Lily Scherlis [link]

[countrymusiclover]

Ch 35 - Dragons in the North

Part 36

Fire OF A Stark

@dragonixfrye

“Sssh Rhae. Momma’s here. Just go back to sleep.” I shushed her holding her in my arms while she was having a terrible night of sleep. She hasn’t been sleeping as well as she used to a few months ago. I feared that she was coming down with something or that something was haunting her dreams.

The door to our chambers opened and then simply shut where I glanced over my shoulder hearing her clap her hands together giggling. “Hey there, Rhae. Did you miss daddy?” Jaime leaned forward kissing me before he tickled her belly taking her from my arms putting her down for a nap in the crib.

“I can’t believe she literally stops crying when you come back into the room. It just recently started happening and I don't know why." Slumping down in the chair in front of the fireplace Jaime tugged me up sitting down where I was then pulling me back down to sit on his lap.

He moved my hair from my eyes seeing that I had some bags underneath my eyes from lack of sleep. "I can tell you it's because she got used to being with me all the time while you traveled to the Vale. Give her time she'll grow out of it hopefully."

Laying my head against his chest I closed my eyes listening to his heartbeat. He placed his chin on top of my head just holding me while the only sound we could hear was the crackling of the fireplace. “I just want to go home. Be done with the battles and be happy like we were.”

“But this is your home, Lynesse. I mean you haven’t stopped talking about getting here for years. I don’t understand what is wrong now?” He asked me to tilt my chin up with his thumb where I was trained in his deep green eyes.

Dropping my gaze to the floor he was right. I have wanted nothing more than to be back here since the day we left. Yet there wasn’t the same feeling about it that there once was. “I can’t fully explain it but it’s just different. Even though it is my home it…doesn’t feel that way anymore.”

“I’ve already told you my home is wherever you and Rhae are. Just tell me where you want to go and I’ll make it happen, my dragon wife.” He declared making me focus my gaze back onto his. Leaning up I kissed him slowly moving one hand through his hair until he felt me smirking into the kiss. “What’s so funny?”

Breaking the kiss I moved my other hand over his bearded jaw thinking back to when he hated having it there. When we returned to Kings Landing he immediately got rid of it. “I must be honest that when you cut your long hair I was upset. Since I rather like it but now the beard goes with it quite nicely. You look like a real Northerner now.”

“So you’re intrigued by the Northern look eh. That's good to know. How would you feel if I got rid of it and got fat like Robert Bararethon?” He teased me burying his face in the crook of my neck moving his left hand down to my hip, making me squirm since I was ticklish there and he knew it very well.

I attempted to hold back a moan while he held me close to his chest so I couldn’t get away, not that I wanted to at the moment. “Jaime Lannister, you wouldn’t dare - oh seven hells!” Moving his face into my hands I crashed my lips onto his where he moaned moving his fingers underneath my tunic shirt until someone started banging on the door.

“Ser Jaime. Lady Lynesse. Lady Stark says she needs you on your dragon. There is someone approaching the castle with an army.” A guard explained before I climbed off my husband’s lap and he followed directly down into the stables. Jaime stepped back, remaining on the ground watching me climb on Joanna’s back shooting up into the sky. Scanning the northern area I finally saw what the guards were talking about. There was an army nearing the castle where I could see Jon riding beside the other dragon girl I had faced. She was coming here meaning he convinced her to fight the army of the dead.

Dropping back down on the snowy ground I dismounted her dragon back, running a hand over her scales softly. She huffed out some air meeting my gaze. Footsteps ran out to me where I saw Arya who was staring up at the sky in awe of the other creatures flying in the sky. “I thought you were the only one with a dragon, sis.”

“I once did too, Arya. I once did too.” I mumbled with Jaime walking up to stand beside me seeing a carriage pulling into the courtyard and to a stop. The door opened where I smiled rushing through the snow to greet my long friend and brother in law. “Tyrion!”

The dwarf lion opened his arms for me where I bent down on my knees embracing him in a long awaited hug. He wrapped his arms around me, closing his eyes, smiling when he noticed that his brother was there too. “I have missed you, dragon girl. I am curious to ask what about the baby?”

“It’s a girl and I - we named her after Rhaenyra. I’ll be sure to let you meet her later. And I can tell you for certain we have wine.” I smiled down at him, raising myself to stand again.

He clasped his hands together chuckling up at me. “Have I told you how much I love you, Lynesse.” Jaime and I chuckled with Arya moving over to check out Joanna up close. Nightfall had come over the castle where I slowly walked around the halls carrying my daughter in my arms. The halls seemed so familiar and if I closed my eyes a part of me swore that I could hear the older parts of my childhood.

Pausing in my tracks I heard Tyrion and Jaime talking in one of the halls with a large fireplace. They were both drinking while they talked. “I'm happy. I'm happy that you're happy. I'm happy that you'll finally have to climb for it. Do you know how long I've waited to tell tall-person jokes?”

Jaime chuckled clinking his cup with his brothers. “To climbing mountains.”

“What's she like down there?” His little brother asked.

Jaime scrunched his face up in disgust at his question. Peaking my head into a crack in the doorway I saw his gaze had locked on mine. “What? That's not your concern.” I felt my face turn red a little at the question

“I haven't been with a woman for years. Give me a morsel.” Tyrion hit him on the arm.

Jaime scoffed before I pushed open the door turning in his chair seeing me. “You're a dog. There’s my girls.”

“I am the Imp, and I demand to know.” Tyrion waved his index finger at his brother when he pulled up a chair so I could sit in between them. “Lynesse, thank goodness. Please tell your husband to answer my question about your love life.”

Sitting down I shifted to cradle Rhaenyra in my arms. Glancing in the direction of my brother in law I scrunch my nose up at the mention. “Friends we may be, Tyrion. But I am never going to tell you how good your brother is.”

“I knew you’d fall for that lion, dragon girl.” Whipping my head around with my white hair falling in front of my eyes I gasped seeing the knight that was training Jaime to get better at sword fighting.

Tyrion paused, eying the man. “Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. Where's your drink? What are you-- What are you doing up North?”

“What are you doing with that?” Jaime and I both noticed that there was a crossbow in his hands.

Bronn pointed it in between the brothers taking a seat in front of the three of us. “Oh, this? This is for you. For both of you. Year after year, I've shoveled Lannister shit, and what do I have to show?”

“You're a knight, thanks to me.” Tyrion spoke up.

“Thanks to me. And that title's worth as much as a blond hair from your brother's ballsack.” Bronn scoffed, moving the crossbow.

Tyrion got cut off by the swordsman. “Power resides where men believe--“

Bronn raises his tone. “Shut your mouth.”

“I'm just trying--“ The dwarf tried again.

He threatened him while I felt our infant steering in her sleep. She was sucking on her own thumb which was adorable to me. “I've never hit a dwarf before, but say another word and I will belt you.”

“See, I don't believe you'd do that, after all--“ Bronn suddenly punched him where he grabbed his nose. Jaime and I both jumped to our feet where I moved one hand to the sword on my hip.

“You couldn't do it on your best day, you one-handed fuck. And your best days are long gone.” Bronn teased him, pointing the weapon at him. “Put your weapon away sweetheart. I don’t have any intention of hurting the baby.”

Tyrion tilted his head groaning. “You broke my nose!”

“I did not break your nose.” He responded back.

“How do you know.” The young Lannister asked.

The knight sat back down in his chair. “Because I've been breaking noses since I was your size, and I know what it sounds like. Now listen. Your sister offered me Riverrun. Nice big castle, good lands, plenty of peasants who do what they're told.”

Shaking my head I entered the conversation. “And you trust Cersei. You do realize that she has no allies right. I mean she literally has tried to kill me and my family on multiple occasions. The only reason I’m alive is because I have my own dragon. For all I know she would put my head on a spike if I didn’t have Joanna.”

“I knew your sister was dead the second I saw those dragons. Now, your army may be torn to shit, but I'd still bet on your Dragon Queen to win. And it just so happens I'm a betting man. If Cersei's dead, she can't pay up. Mmm, that's good. Of course, the odds change if the Dragon Queen's Hand turns up dead. Maybe a few of her top generals get picked off one by one. All of a sudden…” Bronn leaned back in his chair picking up a cup while taking a long drink. “As for you, dragon girl. I am very confident if one of them fails I have you to offer me something.”

Tyrion leaned up holding his hand underneath his nose seeing it had stopped bleeding. “May I speak?”

“Why not? Only death will shut you up.” He rolled his eyes.

“We made a deal long ago. Do you remember?” The dwarf reminded him.

His former friend quoted him looking from him then it was Jaime and I. I wasn’t in the interest of making deals anymore with anyone. “If anyone offered me money to killed you, you'd pay me double. What's double Riverrun?”

Tyrion declared. “Highgarden. You could be Lord of the Reach.”

“Highgarden? Are you mad?” Jaime glared at his brother not agreeing with him.

“It's better than being dead.” His little brother exclaimed.

Rhaenyra made some noises waking up and reaching for Tyrion’s beard since he was just in her reach. He made a noise when she managed to tug on the curly strands. “He’s got a point, Jaime.”

“He's not going to kill us. He wouldn't be talking to us if--“ Jaime cut himself short when Bronn fired the crossbow where I jumped backwards with a scared look on his face slowly looking at me.

He lowered the weapon. “The way I see it, I only need one of the Lannister brothers alive.”

“Highgarden will never belong to a cutthroat.” Jaime scoffed, placing a hand on my leg since he didn’t really trust the guy with the crossbow now.

Bronn declared cocking the crossbow again pointing it at the dwarf before he got to his feet. “No? Who were your ancestors, the ones who made your family rich? Fancy lads in silk? They were fucking cutthroats. That's how all the great houses started, isn't it? With a hard bastard who was good at killing people. kill a few hundred people, they make you a lord. kill a few thousand, they make you king. And then all your cocksucking grandsons can ruin the family with their cocksucking ways. Highgarden. Give me your word.”

“You have my word.” Tyrion replied, still holding his nose.

Bronn got up exiting the room leaving the three of us in silence. Turning my head between the boys I didn’t have much to say except what we were all thinking. “He does realize that he just threatened a girl with a fully grown dragon. That’s not very smart for a betting man if you ask me.”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

: La Quête du Graal - Arrivée de Galaad à la cour (c 1380)

* * * *

"By the way. You remember that argument we were having about aggression? Well, I have thought of a good reason for starting a war." Merlyn froze. "I would like to hear it." "A good reason for starting a war is simply to have a good reason! For instance, there might be a king who had discovered a new way of life for human beings — you know, something which would be good for them. It might even be the only way from saving them from destruction. Well, if the human beings were too wicked or too stupid to accept his way, he might have to force it on them, in their own interests by the sword." The magician clenched his fists, twisted his gown into screws, and began to shake all over. "Very interesting," he said in a trembling voice. "Very interesting. There was just such a man when I was young — an Austrian who invented a new way of life and convinced himself that he was the chap to make it work. He tried to impose his reformation by the sword, and plunged the civilized world into misery and chaos. But the thing which this fellow had overlooked, my friend, was that he had had a predecessor in the reformation business, called Jesus Christ. Perhaps we may assume that Jesus knew as much as the Austrian did about saving people. But the odd thing is that Jesus did not turn the disciples into storm troopers, burn down the Temple at Jerusalem, and fix the blame on Pontius Pilate. On the contrary, he made it clear that the business of the philosopher was to make ideas available, and not to impose them on people.

—T H White, The Queen of Air and Darkness ch viii (1939) being the second book of The Once and Future King.

[Robert Scott Horton]

[mitspeiler]

Director's Commentary Ch. 8

These are for my book The Dream Quest of Henry Sinclair, which you can read here on Ao3 or here on Royal Road.

Ahh, The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep, my favorite individual chapter in Dream Quest as well as my biggest flop (somehow the chapters immediately before and after it have more views on Royal Road. I don't know why).

I don't actually have a lot to say about this chapter, which, most likely, is not selling you on why this is my favorite. I gush about my love of fairy tales and the original inspiration for this bit in the author's notes.

One thing I shall say is that it was originally going to be longer. Ayane would have gone on to rescue Henry from Dream Lady Titania's Dark Tower on a bit of a quest. But I decided it was just a bit too much for a single chapter worth of content. The scenario will yet play out in a future entry; Titania is still out there and interested in Henry, (or rather, interested in taking him away to see how people react to his absence.) I want to expand on Titania, who has risen to fill a certain niche in my heart that was not altogether displayed in the text; that of an agent of chaos who is first and foremost an actress playing a role, and loving it. I also want to expand on Hans. In spite of everything, he's still an Einzeller, which is what a call a sort of derivative of trickster who's just dumb and lucky rather than intelligent, and I want to experiment with how that would play out in a conflict.

To expand on this concept a little more, I was often fascinated by the use of the term Dark Tower in Joseph Jacobs' version of Child Rowland, in contrast to Robert Browning's Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came. They are, in fact, completely unrelated stories, and indeed, Jacobs named the Elf King's castle The Dark Tower as a deliberate reference. But they idea they could be somehow one and the same haunted me. We'll come to a Dark Tower yet.

[ina-shumelim]

Hi, boys and girls, I’m Danbert Nobacon, I’m the inside joke of the group

The very real award for Most Fun Name Within Chumbawamba definitely went to Danbert Nobacon every year he was part of the collective and probably for some years thereafter. Danbert Nobacon. It’s just so fun to say. I think so. Chumbawamba definitely thought so. Because while I cannot think of any other member of the band being mentioned in any of their songs (excluding live versions such as their final performance of Add Me in 2012), Danbert’s name is, to use another word that is so very fun to say, ubiquitous in their discography. And because I love collecting stuff, I tried to collect every mention made of him in Chumbawamba’s songs (it’s not actually that many and I probably missed something) and also found some other fun things.

Danbert Nobacon, his name no doubt inspired by early Chumbawamba anti-meat attitude (consider, for example, No!). Musically, his main addition to the band’s discography were his “absolutely unembarrassed vocals”. Shhh credits what I can only assume to be his evil alter ego Bert Bacon with “vocals, elastic band, foam”. And then there’s also the 1998 Brit Awards that weirdly ended with British deputy prime minister John Prescott soaked in ice water. In summary, a man of many talents.

1. Because He’s a (Gender Nonconforming) He

Danbert’s first mention on a Chumbawamba record itself appears to have been on 1994’s Anarchy. Feminist Bad Dog is followed by a number of samples before the beginning of anti-fascist Enough Is Enough:

- Hi, boys and girls, I’m Danbert Nobacon, I’m the transvestite of the group. - I like it, I like it.

At this point in time, Danbert was well known for wearing skirts. An anarchist blog recounts: “During his early gigs, he was known for exposing himself to his audiences, and he would often describe himself as a transvestite. During several gigs, he would often be seen wearing a nun’s habit.” A 1997 news article mentions his arrest by Italian police in “a short black skirt and panty hose, which I often wear … supposedly because I didn’t have my passport with me. But the real reason was that I offended their masculinity” (see also ch. 26 of Chumbawamba singer and guitarist Boff Whalley’s autobiography Footnote*, 2003). Appropriately, the live album Showbusiness (1994) credits Danbert with “vocals, tiny dresses”.

Above mentioned blog goes on to say: “In 1987, Danbert released ‘Bigger than Jesus’ on Mind Matter Records ... ‘Bigger than Jesus’ was sold inside brown bags in stores because he decided to use a photograph of his penis for the cover.” Bigger than Jesus features a song called Because I’m a He which reads more like a white cis man’s reflections on intersectional feminism than actual song lyrics, but honestly, good for him.

I would at this point also like to mention one of the stories behind the name Chumbawamba. Yes, there are different ones. Yes, they are all made up. Anyway, Danbert recalls a dream in which he was trying to use a public toilet. However, instead of the usual two genders, the rooms were separated into “Chumba” and “Wamba”, confusing Danbert. Note also the Spanish(-ish) plural: Las Chumbas Wambas.

2. Getting All Mixed Up with Raymond

The following year’s Swingin’ with Raymond (1995) presented us with anti-authoritarian All Mixed Up. I hadn’t paid much attention to this song until recently and I’m only slowly warming up to Swingin’ with Raymond as a whole. The song describes turning a “no-wit whose face fits” into a political puppet leader by the grace of “Queen Victoria of Grantham” Margaret Thatcher. The verses are shouted by Danbert (I think; he is only credited with “666”), who is then crowned king in the pre-chorus:

Good King Danbert at the helm His face on every coin of the realm

Why Chumbawamba consequently ask Robert F. Kennedy’s assassin “Sirhan Sirhan, where have you gone?”, I will leave up to your, the reader’s, interpretation.

3. Of course, Tubthumping

I really don’t have much to say. You know Tubthumping (1997). There’s a “Danny boy” in Tubthumping. You do the maths.

4. He’s in Trouble Again

I’m in Trouble Again on 2000’s WYSIWYG ironically tackles Chumbawamba’s newfound mainstream success. The liner notes describe their songwriting process under EMI:

We ring up our record company and they tell us what sort of thing the kids are listening to these days, so that we can construct our pleasing and melodic tunes with one ear to the marketplace … It’s all so pleasant that we can’t understand why some hurtful, hateful people think that we’re nasty and mean.

In I’m in Trouble Again, the singer is just trying to live their “squeaky clean” life as a pop star, while the cops are digging up their cellar floor looking to get them in trouble again (note the parallel to the marionette in All Mixed Up who is described as “squeaky clean, no skeletons”). The height of mainstream success expressed thus:

Now I turn water into corporate pop And Danbert is a friend of mine.

Danbert’s status of a meme within the collective (a term anachronistic to his time with Chumbawamba) seems perfectly embodied in his overly dramatic and simultaneously silly opening speech for their final concert in 2012. And in the sleeve notes to the respective DVD Going, Going, Boff remembers his first time meeting Danbert:

We talked, and I discovered a quiet introvert who collected stolen hubcaps and beer mats and wore a home-made straitjacket. That’s how Danbert is today, frankly – not hubcaps and beermats, no. But a bizarre (and beautiful) mix of unassuming everybloke and unpindownable show-off.

[trhor]

Hamish

To the world he's His Majesty King Robert I but when he's alone, he's just Hamish again.

[feyhunter78]

Chapter Six - The tourney has finished, and Jon finds himself in your chambers. As the events of the game go on Jon must adapt to his ever-changing role.

Ch 7

He is sweaty, dirty, tired, and yet he feels more alive than he has in years, perhaps it is the remaining exhilaration of victory, or the words of King Robert that ring in his ears.

You look up at Jon, then at your aunt, then back to Jon, and there is a sinking feeling in his gut. You do not want to kiss him, not even on the cheek.

He decides to spare you the shame and embarrassment, turning to King Robert intent on gracefully declining when your lips meet his cheek. It is quick, a peck, a whisper of soft lips against his stubble covered cheek and the words die on his lips.

The crowd behind him cheers, King Robert raises his glass towards him, his eyes glazed over with drunkenness. “A fine paring they would make, if it were not for his unfortunate birth.”

Lord Stark, his father, clenches his fist, but puts on a smile, patting King Robert’s shoulder. “I think it is time we retire to your tent, my friend.”

Shame washes over Jon, and a muscle in his jaw twitches as he looks away from the makeshift throne.

“Father, I have grown tired from all this excitement, might I be allowed to retire to my chambers?” You ask, loud enough for all around to hear. You are giving him an escape.

Tyrion nods magnanimously. “Of course, my daughter, and take your champion with you, lest he be mobbed by his hard-won crowd of admirers.”

It is only now that Jon realizes the chanting that he’s been blocking out is for him. The moniker they have bestowed upon him White Wolf. A reference to Ghost he knows, but it fills him with pride, never has a crowd chanted his name, never had more than his siblings chanted his name, but now? Now he was their champion. At least until the jousting began, then a new champion would be chosen. It matters not, for in this moment Jon feels special.

In your chambers nestled within Maegor’s Holdfast, Jon sits as you tend to his wounds. They are nothing, truly, some cuts and bruises, but still, you treat each one with such care.

Ghost rests his head on his knee while you work, painting on salves and covering cuts with soft gauze.

“Look up for me?” You half ask, half order, gently cupping his chin with one hand, keeping his head still as you tend to the cut on his cheek.

He winces when the cloth you are holding meets his broken skin, and you breathe out a soft apology before gently dabbing the salve on the cut. Your fingertips are soft, your focused expression allowing him to observe you. His lovely lady, truly his, until you marry that is, but there are no signs of any marriages happening soon.

Not for the first time he allows his mind to wander, to imagine you and him together—married somewhere, maybe Casterly Rock in one of the many wings you have told him about, or a keep in the North, perhaps Moat Cailin. If he could get his father to lend him the men, the supplies, it could be restored to its former glory.

“Ser Jon?” You ask, pulling him from his daydreams.

“Apologies. My Lady, I was lost in thought.”

“I asked if you had any other injuries?” Your voice is soft, as soft as your touch, and he craves it. Desires to feel more, to hear more, for you to always look at him with such rapt devotion, with such interest in his wellbeing, with such care. Gods he had never felt so cared for in his life.

Jon bites his tongue hard. He does, earlier in his duels one of the Redwyne men had slammed his elbow into his stomach, Jon is sure there is a bruise forming. “I do, My Lady, but it is in a place that would require the removal of my tunic.”

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, and you nod stiffly. “Well, it is my duty to care for my champion, so I shall turn around, then you let me know when you have removed your tunic. We are both members of great houses, we can act with decorum.”

Jon nods and waits.

You wait as well, just staring, then seem to realize what he is waiting for with an adorable “oh, right,” and turn around.

He chuckles and sheds his tunic folding it neatly and placing it in his lap, dislodging Ghost who grumbles and goes to lay on the plush pile of pillows you had moved into your chambers especially for him. “Alright, My Lady.”

You turn back around, and for a moment Jon thinks you are having a stroke.

You blink rapidly at him, your lips parting then snapping shut. “Oh, um, yes, right, where is the injury?”

He motions to the ever-darkening bruise in the center of his abdomen.

You make a small, strangled sound, one he would not have been able to hear if not for the quiet of the room, and gently kneel, salve in hand as you scrutinize the bruise. “I cannot get a good position for my hand without digging my elbow into your leg; I need to get a little closer…”

You and Jon stare at each other, you can only get closer if you invade the space between his legs.

He coughs and spreads them, looking away as casually as possible, praying to the gods, old and new, that a certain part of his anatomy does not decide to take interest in the sight before him.

You work quickly, but diligently, using featherlight touches as you apply the salve, your other arm resting on his thigh keeping you steady. “You did very well today, I am glad to see all your training has paid off.”

Jon looks at you instinctually because you are talking, he always looks at you when you speak, it is only polite, and he immediately regrets it. You are looking up at him through your lashes, on your knees between his legs, your hand on his abdomen. It is a sight he only dares to imagine in the darkness of his own chambers, with his hand wrapped tightly around himself.

“And I must admit it brings me no small amount of pleasure that it was my sworn sword who was named champion, you should have seen Ellyn Farman’s face, she was all but green with envy.” You smile, it is a joyous, deviously delightful smile, and he feels the urge to go back to the tourney field and defeat another seven men.

“My victories are yours.” His voice pitches up at the end when you slide your hand down as you get up, your head turned towards Ghost, fully unaware as you continue talking.

“And of course your moniker, how exciting, truly Ser Jon you are making quite a name for us.” He grabs your wrist preventing it from sliding any further, and you turn back towards him with confusion in your eyes, then you glance down then rip your hand away as if he had burned you. “I am so, so, sorry, I did not mean—”

“It is alright, I know you had no intention, and neither do I.” He reassures you. He never wants you to feel unsafe with him, never wants you to doubt his loyalty is not contingent on the possibility of carnal pleasure.

You hold your hand to your chest, taking him in with those ever-inquisitive eyes. “I do understand why the other girls speak so highly of you, I always have, but I understand this reason now.”

“What reason?”

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and glance back at Ghost. “You are handsome, Ser Jon, surely you must know that.”

“Robb is handsome, Theon is handsome, I am—”

“Tarnishing one’s maidenhood worthy?” You supply, that teasing tone in your voice making him glad his tunic still remains over his lap.

“I would not.”

“I know, you are honorable, and I admire that, greatly.” You have dropped the teasing tone and give him a genuine smile. “Now, I suggest you redress, lest someone find us here and think you not so honorable.” You turn back around, humming a song to yourself.

Jon feels special, you make him feel special. More than the crowds, the king, and it is a feeling he sees himself becoming quite addicted to.

He no longer feels special, not as he looks on as his father kneels before Joffrey, Sansa in tears pleading for mercy. They were bastards, the three of them born of incest, had you not told him as much in his nightmares? Why had he waited, why had he not gone to his father the moment he suspected his dream were truth? Now the King was dead, and Joffrey had taken his place.

“Lord Stark, you have claimed the late king declared you as his regent and leveled great insults against my son.” Queen Cersei says, her chin held high, a cruel light in her eyes.

The steps of the Great Sept of Baelor are pristine, the domes of glass and gold looming behind them, the sun shining down through the fluffy white clouds. He stares at his father’s feet to keep the tears back, his throat tight as Sansa’s sobs tear at his heart.

You are dressed in Lannister red, the bright ruby, not your darker crimson, your gown lavish, and intricately embroidered, your hair up in a southern style, a near perfect duplicate of the Dowager Queen. Your hand has an iron grip on his wrist, fingertips outstretched to his palm, hidden behind your skirts.

“Please, I beg of you, spare my father, send him to the Night’s Watch for his crimes.” Sansa cries, clutching at the collar of her gown, tears streaming down her face. Theon stands behind her, still part of the crowd, his eyes never leaving her form, his lips etched into a deep frown.

“I am nothing if not merciful.” Joffrey says, spreading his hands wide, a smile on his face.

Jon’s stomach churns and your grip on him tightens.

“Do not act rashly.” You whisper, leaning into him ever so slightly, keeping him grounded.

Sansa sobs her gratitude, her sobs turning to screams when a kingsguard grabs her, pulling her back as Ser Ilyn Payne steps up Ice in his hands.

Jon can see Theon struggle against a few men, his curses muffled by a rag they shove in his mouth.

“Close your eyes, you should not have to see this.” You tell him. He ignores you, ripping his arm from your grip, but you move in front of him your hands on his chest, your strength is nothing compared to his, but the tears in your eyes stop him for a moment. “Please, Jon, he will kill you if you interfere.”

A whistling sound fills the air, then Lord Payne falls to the ground, an arrow sticking out his back. Another flies towards Joffrey and misses, clattering to the steps beside him. Chaos breaks out, people scream, arrows fly, the steps of the sept are tainted with blood.

His father gets to his feet, grabbing Ice, Theon rushing to him, a flash of Sansa’s red hair then Jon can no longer see them, the crowd closes in, and he hears a scream. It is you, he knows your scream, heard it time and time again in his nightmares. Jon turns on his heel, you should be right beside him, you are always right beside him, but now the space you always occupy is empty.

“Y/N!” He yells, scanning the crowd, hand on his pommel as the crowd surges against him.

“Jon!” Your voice comes from somewhere on his right, and he pushes through the crowd, catching sight of your gown. It is enough, and he presses on, a wolf stalking its prey, even as bodies crash into him, the sounds, and smells overwhelming, he follows you, elbowing and shoving others to get by, gaining ground until he is able to see you fully.

Some man has you, one he has never seen before, hooded, and cloaked, his arm around yours, a knife to your side as he drags you along.

You do not call out when you see him, smart girl, and he quickly overtakes the man, driving his sword through his back, the man freezing and sputtering, before collapsing as Jon pulls his blade out. This is the first life his blade has taken, and it is a righteous deed.

“Jon, oh gods, oh gods.” You sob, throwing your arms around his neck, your body trembling.

He wraps his arms around you, crushing you to his chest. “Seven Hells, y/n, are you hurt?”

You shake your head, jasmine perfume drowning out the scent of the city, of the crowd. “No, no, are you?”

“I am unharmed.” He assures you, releasing you only so he can pull back and examine you.

You are unharmed, roughed up, dirtied and scared, but there is no sign of injury. More screams, more people push past, and you look at him, tear rimmed eyes, large and fearful. “I want to go home.”

He is strong, stronger than Robb, than his father, and you weigh nothing compared to the barrels Lord Santagar makes him run with day after day, so he throws you over his shoulder.

You yelp at the sudden switch in gravity, clinging to him as he pushes through the crowd, his knuckles will be bruised and bloodied, but he cares not, he must get you to safety.

Jon does not put you down until you are safely inside the Red Keep, your father is there, in the throne room, as well as your grandsire, a surprise Jon is unsure whether is welcomed or not. Both men were not due to arrive from Casterly Rock for another fortnight.

“And here comes the White Wolf with my daughter slung over his shoulder like a Dothraki warlord.” Tyrion sighs.

Now on your feet but still clinging to Jon, you face your father. “He saved me, it is what he swore to do, I will not stand here and allow you to insult him.” Your words are weak, stained with tears, and you are still trembling, but they are earnest.

“Yes, yes, good job, Ser Jon.” Tyrion says, patting Jon’s hand.

“Thank you, My Lord.” He says, stunned and unsure. Where is his family, have they escaped? Been killed?

“Where is Sansa? Is she alright?” You ask, searching the room for her.

“The bitch has escaped, along with her traitor of a father, and that Greyjoy scum.” Joffrey’s voice rings out, as he sits down on the throne, the queen standing beside him, Lord Tywin going to flank her.

He is alone, alone in enemy territory, but at least his family have been able to escape. He sends a prayer to the old gods for their safety, then one for his own.

You smooth down your hair and craft your expression into one of disbelieving outrage. “My King, I am sorry. I never thought sweet Sansa would betray you.”

“She is a Stark, it is what they do, Ned Stark betrayed my father, and now his daughter betrays me.” Joffrey turns his eyes onto Jon, they are not like yours, no life lives within them, only death, sickly green and glowing with malice. “And what about your Stark, dear cousin, will he betray you?”

Jon shakes his head; he has seen you play this game with Joffrey enough times that he believes he knows what role he must play. “No, My King, I am a bastard, and sworn to Lady y/n, I hold my oath to her higher than that of my so-called blood.” It pains him to speak the words, to play this game, but he will have no chance of seeing his family, of seeing Arya, again if he’s dead.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz

[guywithbeer]

THE KING, with Timothée Chalamet and Robert Pattinson, is a historically inaccurate but entertaining movie about King Henry V.

#theking #TimothéeChalamet #robertpattinson #biography #drama #history #movies #film #review

[raisab332012]

Answer to When did the Kingdom of Bavaria cease to exist as an independent nation? The last king Otto I died in 1916 and although he was declared insane, he was never deposed. by Robert Paul

Answer to When did the Kingdom of Bavaria cease to exist as an independent nation? The last king Otto I died in 1916 and although he was declared insane, he was never deposed. by Robert Paul https://www.quora.com/When-did-the-Kingdom-of-Bavaria-cease-to-exist-as-an-independent-nation-The-last-king-Otto-I-died-in-1916-and-although-he-was-declared-insane-he-was-never-deposed/answer/Robert-Paul-411?ch=15&oid=1477743652685787&share=ac754ef3&srid=7KVRc&target_type=answer

[redacted-metallum]

Image description: two scans from the 1980 edition of the TSR Advanced Dungeons and Dragons sourcebook Deities and Demigods.  The first is of the text accompanying the entry for Hastur, a full transcript of which is under a readmore link.  The second is a close-up of the illustration and depicts a lizard like creature covered in tentacles behind a castle.  It is considerably larger than the castle and there is a bolt of lightning in the background.  The upper right corner has a stylized signature of the letters E and O, indicating that Erol Otus is the illustrator of this particular image.

End image description.

My dad owns a copy of the Deities and Demigods book from before the copyright strike, and I haven’t seen any scans of Hastur from it around tumblr so.  Here it is!  The whole thing is very influenced by August Derleth’s interpretation of the Cthulhu Mythos, and I have Opinions about that, but this is specifically where the “don’t say Hastur’s name more than four times or he’ll come Get You” thing comes from, which I think is a very neat bit of history and trivia!

One other thing I find interesting is that there is no mention of The King in Yellow (the play) in this section.  There is also no mention of the Yellow Sign, Cassilda, or Camilla, though Lake Hali and Carcosa are mentioned as part of an “alien planet”.

The book is credited to James M. Ward and Robert J. Kuntz, and edited by Lawrence Schick.

The illustrations are credited to the following: Jeff Dee, Erol Otus, Eymoth, Darlene Pekul, Paul Jaquays, Jim Roslof, David S. LaForce, David C. Sutherland III, Jeff Lanners, and D. A. Trampier.

Text transcript is as follows:

HASTUR THE UNSPEAKABLE (He Who Must Not Be Named) “Master of the Air” Greater God

ARMOR CLASS: -2 MOVE: 36″/36″ HIT POINTS: 400 NO. OF ATTACKS: 2 DAMAGE/ATTACK: 20-200/20-200 SPECIAL ATTACKS: See below SPECIAL DEFENSES: See below MAGIC RESISTANCE: 50% SIZE: L (600′ TALL) ALIGNMENT: Chaotic evil WORSHIPER’S ALIGN: Chaotic evil SYMBOL: Image of the god PLANE: Prime Material Plane (distant planet) CLERIC/DRUID: Nil FIGHTER: As 16+ HD monster MAGIC-USER/ILLUSIONIST: 23rd level in each THIEF/ASSASSIN: Nil MONK/BARD: Nil PSIONIC ABILITY: I S: 25 (+7. +14)  I: 22  W: 23  D: 21  C: 23  CH: -4

This god has a scaled, elongated body, a lizard’s head and maw, and taloned lizard claws.  It also has 200 tentacles projecting from its body that give it the ability to sense all things around it.  It is able to strike twice per round and also attack magically.

At will, it can teleport anywhere in the Prime Material Plane.  Hastur regenerates 5 hit points per melee round, and can summon 2-20 Byakhee to aid it in battle.  It cannot be magically controlled.  Creatures that are able to fly naturally will never attack Hastur, even if controlled.  Any being trying to attack the god must make a saving throw against fear.

Hastur is half-brother to Cthulhu, and like him Hastur has been imprisoned by the star-shaped Elder Sign.  He lies in a crypt at the bottom of Lake Hali near the alien city of Carcosa.  Hastur exists partly on the Prime Material Plane (and this part is imprisoned in the crypt) and partly on the Elemental Plane of Air (thus he is immune to cold and the vacuum of space).  Hastur is never more than partially on the Prime Material Plane and is therefore not completely solid.  This accounts for much of his great size.

Any time the name “Hastur” is spoken, there is a 25% chance that Hastur will here and send 1-4 Byakhee to slay the speaker.  If the Byakhee are defeated, there is a 25% chance that Hastur himself will appear to destroy the blasphemer.

[bloodwrittenballad]

the road works so far

✰ = smut | ☹ = angst | ⚘ = fluff | ☾ = favorite

last piece published: january 4th, 2024.

note: i would like to clarify very quickly that many of these works are old and not very good. i’ve grown a lot as a writer over the years (at least, i would like to think so) and so many of these pieces are a reflection of that growth. i may not be super proud of them as i once was, but they still hold a special place in my life and i can only hope they will do the same for you. hope you enjoy.

| Top Gun: Maverick collection |

Bobby’s Got It Goin’ On | Robert Floyd — When Jake takes it too far, you step in

Sweet And Sinful Surprise | Bradley Bradshaw — In which you finally get to show Bradley the nipple piercings you got in secret while he was gone on deployment… and lets just say he really fucking likes them

Satisfaction Guaranteed | Jake Seresin, Bradley Bradshaw — Maybe tipsy, tmi confessions aren’t so bad after all

The Egg Incident | Bradley Bradshaw — Turns out your husband is very useful in the kitchen

| The Last Of Us collection |

Sleepover Confessions | Abby Anderson — The sleepover take a turn when Abby makes a shocking confession

| Kaz Brekker collection |

Sweetheart | Kaz’s reaction to you calling him “sweetheart” ⚘ ☾

Dancing In The Rain | Kaz and reader dance in the rain! ⚘

Greatest weapon | You are Kaz’ greatest weapon, but he refuses to use you for one of his most important heists… ☹

Gone | Your last time in the arms of your first and only love ☹

Prayers | Kaz is left with only one option after you get injured and won’t wake up... to pray ☹

Favorite Crime | You always were his favorite crime… ☹

| Peter Parker collection |

Not Again | He will not let history repeat itself again ☹ ⚘ ☾

Coffee and Orange | Visiting your aunts grave, you meet someone. Someone with a familiar face…☹

New Year Kiss | As the title says ! ⚘

Dentist Dread | Reader is scared for their next upcoming dentist appointment, luckily their lovely boyfriend is there to help ⚘

Happy Birthday | You spend your birthday with your boyfriend Peter ⚘

| Shuntaro Chishiya Collection |

Safe | Chishiya is relieved to see you’re okay after you return from a game ☹ ⚘

Prove It | A comment of yours makes Chishiya jealous ✰

| Drukarri collection |

Reunited | After years apart, you and your lovers finally reunite ☹ ⚘

All Alone | You didn’t even a proper goodbye ☹

Goodnight | You wish you had more time… ☹

No more Hiding | The relationship between the three of you has been a secret from the others for years now. Or… so you all thought. ⚘

We’ve Got You | Reader is hurt during battle, leading to very worried partners and cuddles afterwards ☹

Sunday Mornings | Sunday mornings are spent making breakfast with your lovers ⚘

On The Outside Looking Through | Reader is in love with both Makkari and Druig, but they don’t know it ☹

The Heart Wants What It Wants | The heart wants what it wants, and perhaps it’ll finally get what it desires. Part two of On The Outside Looking Through ☹ ⚘

| Edward Nashton collection |

Tease | You tease Edward, he wants payback. ✰

Lottery | He felt like he won the fucking lottery, but better ✰

Front Door | There was something so innocent about the way you slept

Stress Relief | Your lover needs some stress relief… ✰

Bedroom Window | You looked so pretty tonight… ☾

| Stranger Things collection |

The King | Steve Harrington — Steve Harrington was The King ✰ ☾

In for it | Jim Hopper, Dmitri Antonov — You were so in for it… ✰ ☾

Throne | Eddie Munson — Thigh riding Eddie on his throne ✰

Friends With Benefits | Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington — Eddie and Steve are your friends with benefits ✰ ☾

Amazing | Eddie Munson — Eddie thinks you’re amazing ✰

Forever Mine | Eddie Munson — If only forever really meant forever… ☹

| The miscellaneous collection |

Worry | Jay — After passing out on a mission, Jay is left in worry ☹ ⚘

Warm | Marc Spector — Marc is stressed, you have a solution ✰

Dessert | Jack Chambers — Jack spoils his dinner by having dessert first ✰ ☾

Beg | Frank Castle, Karen Page — Karen and Frank like hearing you beg for them ✰

All The Things I Didn’t Say | Gyeong-Su — You made it to the rooftop, but he didn’t… ☹

Rotten Work | Izzy Hands — you never break a promise ☹ ⚘ ☾

Killing Me | Coriolanus Snow x Reader | Inspired by Killing Me by Conan Gray ☹ ✰

[countrymusiclover]

Ch 25 - Dragons VS Dragons

Part 26

Fire OF A Stark

@dragonixfrye

Maxon Hill (Baratheon) is a new added on OC.  Since we only know a few of Robert's bastards I decided to make my own enjoy.

Months Later

Clutching my stomach I groaned laying back in the bed In our room in Casterly Rock. My white hair falling in a mess over my shoulders. We had gotten to the rock a few weeks after we had learned I was pregnant with Jaime’s child. Someone knocked on the door before they peaked their head inside. “My Lady Lannister?”

“Come in, Ser Hill.” I waved my hand motioning for the bastard to enter the room. Jaime had hired the former blacksmith boy as my personal knight for protection.

He was only sixteen so a year younger than me now in my life. My husband was always busy trying to learn the ropes of being the lord of a castle even though for his entire life almost he was sworn to only ever be a knight of the Kingsguard. Jaime would only send him up if he had news for me or to have him check on the baby. “I have news today my lady and he wishes to know what the Maester said.”

“Please Maxon, call me Lynesse. It’s just easier for the both of us.” I corrected the now appointed knight seeing that Jaime and I trusted his word. He had actually helped in making a place for Joanna to sleep in one of the towers of the rock that had an open area underneath it.

Maxon nodded his head simply making his dark brown curls fall in front of his eyes. “Of course, Lady Lynesse.”

“Well I think it will be easier if we just go see him together instead of you running back and forth through the castle. So help me up please.” I groaned sitting up as much as I could manage.

Maxon quickly moved forward trying to fight me until I sent him a stern look. "My lord won't like that you are trying to move too much…uh nevermind." He wrapped his arms around my waist while I grabbed his forearm while I grabbed my cloak I shrugged it over my shoulders following him outside our chambers.

Moving through the hallways of Casterly Rock I could hear the waves crashing against it. I wasn't wearing my crown but my white hair was visible to everyone in these walls. A few staff passed us in the hallway before I pushed open a door seeing Jaime leaning over a large table that looked to be a battlefield. Closing the door behind me he lifted his gaze up from the table. "Lynesse, you should be in bed."

"I can't be bed ridden for long, Jaime. Maxon informed me that you have news about something so I thought I'd come to you." I explained walking around the table I took his left hand in mine meeting his green gaze on me.

He squeezed my hands in his wearing a loose white tunic and red trousers. I was wearing one of his red tunics with some trousers not bothering with dresses unless we were ever asked back at Kings Landing or somewhere else important. "My sister sent a letter demanding we help her take on the Dragon queen from across the sea. Somehow she discovered the truth about you and will send the Hound on us if we don't help her."

"We have control of the Lannister army. The only reason she needs us or really you is because she doesn't have the amount of Kingsguard to aid her." Leaning my hands on the table I could figure out what was really happening to us. Cersei was still jealous and even though she knew we were together until one of us died then she would have to take other measures. "I'm going with you. If she wants to fight against a dragon then I would ride Joanna and challenge her."

Jaime raised his hand concern written all over his face about me being anywhere near such danger like a battlefield. “Lynesse it is too reckless with you being pregnant to go riding into battle on dragon back. I want you to stay here with Maxon.”

“Jaime, I will not stay here and be a bump on a log. Yes I am pregnant but that doesn’t mean I can’t ride alongside you. Plus you know you can’t stop me once I call for Joanna!” I declare turning my hands into fists at my sides holding my head up high.

He sighed heavily looking in the direction of Maxon who was standing by the door. “Saddle Joanna for my wife. And ready the army for the ships to leave tonight. We head for Kings Landing.” He left the room leaving us alone in the room staring at each other.

“I want you to promise me something, little dragon. If it gets too risky you get our baby out of here. Promise me.” He begged me resting a hand on my cheek and his golden hand on my waist.

Nodding my head slowly I put my hand over his left knowing he was completely worried about me. He still hasn’t said I love you yet and neither have I but we were terrified that something may happen to the other. “I promise, Jaime. But it won’t come to that.” The trip back to the city was even harder since I got a lot sicker yet we had the army waiting in an open field waiting for whatever army this supposed dragon queen had with her.

Resting a hand over Joanna’s nose I watched my husband ride up on the white commander horse wearing dark golden armor. He had given me a set of gray armor but my growing belly didn’t make it easy to wear. My hair was loose with some of it braided back. I didn’t know war strategy even when Robb was still alive. “You know your signal is right. Remember to stick to what I told you.”

“Wait up on the hills out of sight unless we get signs of another dragon - ugh here we go girl.” I told him grunting as I climbed on Joanna’s back leaning against her head trying to catch my breath. “Jaime, come back to me…to us.”

He nodded, kicking the white horse in the belly. “Take care of her, Joanna.”

Kicking her in her side with my legs she launched herself up into the clouds turning around on her back then hiding us behind one of the tall hills still with a good view of the army. Squinting my eyes tightly I could see some form of people on horseback charging at the army. But they seemed crazier than the one we had knowing that we were in trouble. Resting a hand to my stomach I knew Jaime could handle them until a familiar shriek came from the skies making me curse under my breath. “Seven hells. There really is another Dragon.”

Joanna made a noise seeing the same creature I do. Shifting my gaze down to the ground I had Joanna shoot up into the sky seconds before the other Targaryen girl set them on fire. Flying through the clouds I saw our army had brought the giant crossbows. Men were screaming before I lifted my head up seeing the girl riding her dragon burning a section of wagons turning everything into a bloodbath underneath us. She nearly hit Jaime until I had my dragon bolt in her direction shouting in Valyrian. “Draycrays!”

The dragon girl swung her dragon out of the way avoiding my attack. She flew up higher seeing me and Joanna before she blew fire at us. Gripping her scales my dragon does a flip in a barrel roll just as I felt pain hit me in my back with the baby. Clutching my stomach I kicked her accidentally where she set fire to some of the lion soldiers. “Joanna no…Joanna…agh!” I gripped her tugging her in the opposite direction, getting her to land a few feet away seeing most of the stuff on fire.

“Lynesse, is it really you?” Wiping my head around I recognized the voice screaming and dragon shrieking fading off.

Joanna hissed low under her breath while I couldn’t believe to see the familiar dwarf near us. “Tyrion?”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[queenofsarcazm]

Rhaenys Targaryen fix-it fic

Rhaenys Targaryan, daughter to Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryan, was murdered at 1 year old by Gregor Clegane, or was she? A fic in which Rhaenys grows up in the Modern world only to be brought back to Westeros before it all goes to shit. Who will she save? Who will she kill? Who will she court?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41624250/chapters/104406582

Excerpt from ch 6

Rae had just woken up from a nap and quickly saw she was not alone. “I assume you’re here because you found something at the library?”

“Yes,” the Waif replied, though stayed put where she was sat at the table, watching Rae with great interest.

“Are you going to show it to me?”

The Waif did get up then, bringing a book that resembled a fancy bible to Rae’s bedside, flipping to the right page before she gave it to Rae, who was relieved to see that it had been written in common English and not in Valyrian.

Rae found the small part about the Princess and read out loud, “Princess Rhaenys Targaryen. Daughter to Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and Princess Elia Nymeros Martell, of Dorne. Dark of hair hair with white streaks and golden eyes, taking after her mother. Rhaenys was born on Dragonstone and presented to the court by her father Prince Rhaegar while her mother lay bedridden. Hmm...” Rae frowned, reading on, “whilst her grandmother Queen Rhaella Targaryen embraced her warmly, her grandfather King Aerys II Targaryen refused to touch or hold her, claiming she smelled ‘Dornish’.” - “What the fuck?” Rae looked to the Waif, but the woman just shrugged.

Rae went on, “Rhaenys had a small kitten named Balerion, after the great black dragon of Aegon I Targaryen.” -”How is that relevant?” she asked, shaking her head before continued, “Rhaenys, five years old at the time, died during the Sack of King’s Landing, and her dead body was presented to King Robert Baratheon and his court by Lord Tywin Lannister alongside her mother, Princess Elia, and her infant brother, Prince Aegon…”

Rae took a deep breath. People who killed innocent people, and especially fucking children, deserved to burn in hell, so she was glad she’d already sent someone out to murder Tywin Lannister. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his absence would cause chaos, she would have sent someone after Robert Baratheon too. Gods knows he fucking deserved it after allowing the stuff he’d allowed. She was about to close the book, feeling sick, when the Waif pointed further down the page, at a somewhat smudged footnote. “Look here.”

Rae looked, and then read that part out loud too. “The dead body of the Princess Rhaenys that was presented to Court had recently dyed black hair, which led some to believe that the child was a decoy, and that the Princess Rhaenys is still alive.”

Rae slammed the book shut.