#cureuba

[inthebeginning-rebellion]

no i think you're 100% correct cause the argument scene is so different between mortal emmrich and lich emmrich, (who will be henceforth referred to as emmlich) and emmlich is already preparing to grieve for rook to die in battle. but mortal emmrich doesn't think about that, he uses his age and his mortality as an excuse to be afraid of the future. he's so afraid of not knowing it doesn't matter his circumstance. immortal, he's afraid of rook dying, but as a mortal he uses their age to cover the fact that he's still afraid of being without rook.

anyway i'm so in love with him and he's so dumb and so sad

the emmrich becoming a lich scene is incredibly upsetting to watch actually, especially if you're romancing him but even if you're not like. you watch this polite, sweet, sentimental academic walk into a tomb, wait hours i imagine? rook seems to have been waiting a while. and when the doors open the first thing you see is a blood soaked dagger and a jar full of this man's organs.

like i know that it's a roleplay choice and there is no wrong way to play it but i just can't make myself tell emmrich to do it. i don't think immortality would do him any favors, i can see a very lonely eternity ahead of emmrich.

[aclashofmuses-a]

@cureuba liked this for a starter.

PORCELAIN, ivory, steel.  the firelight flickers upon faded memory which lingers despite the years that have piled more upon her.  there are things she would rather forget, but things she CANNOT forget lest she forgets herself.  daughter of winterfell, the birthright beyond sansa’s reach that she had to pretend was not hers while she waited.  wait for it; delicate flower, pretty little bird, she knows all her lady’s courtesies still but there is so much more.

THERE is a hood atop her auburn hair, cloak heavy on her shoulders.  she had so longed for the warmth of summer once, but now nipping winter is most welcome.  once, she had not been able to look upon his face, but now, she cannot look away.  of course sansa’s recognized him.  “you’re alive.”

[coerulus]

@cureuba​

Tonight the Quiet Isle lived up to its name. During the day the brothers did not speak, of course, but they still made noise as they went about their business, tending to everyday duties. Birds waded in the shallows or flew overhead, calling out to each other. The sheep, cows, horses, and bees on the island made their own conversation as well. As Brienne trudged up the slope to her cottage, though, she felt like the only person in the world. The only sounds were the wind, the faint lapping of water, and her own footsteps. 

When last she’d walked this path she’d appreciated the chance to stretch her legs, but now the journey tired her. Her wounds from Biter’s attack were still healing. The Elder Brother had seen to her, as well as Jaime and Podrick. She’d insisted he treat her last; Podrick was the worst off. After the battle they’d found him unconscious- Brienne had been certain for one sickening moment that he was dead- but he’d woken up when they took him up to the surface. He had a broken leg but something else seemed to be wrong, a persistent shortness of breath she didn’t know what to do with. The Brotherhood had scattered to the wind, but there was no guarantee some of those men wouldn’t come after them again. So they’d come here, for the chance to recover for a few days before resuming their journey. Brienne sat against the curved wall of the woman’s cottage, sipping at the cider that had been left for her. 

There was a noise outside. Perhaps it was nothing, perhaps it wasn’t even there, but she thought she’d heard something. Her skin prickled as she set down her cup and reached for her sword. “Who’s out there?” 

[aloneinmycage]

starter for @cureuba

          The Hound rode hard; anyone would, given the situation. He’d committed treason, abandoned his king in battle and fled the city. If the gods were kind, the siege would distract Joffrey long enough to grant them a fair head start. If they were kinder, he would perish. How many swords would the boy king send, petty and wrathful as he was, after a warrior like Sandor Clegane? How many more when he realized the betrayer had taken his favorite plaything as well? Sansa could only wonder, her cheek pressed to the Hound’s back. His brigandine was warm and damp, from sweat or blood, she couldn’t say in the dark, or if it was even his own. Behind them, the cries of war and death slowly faded away leaving only the sound of heavy breathing from Stranger and hoofbeats on the ground. 

It must have been an hour before Sansa dared to move, hidden beneath a navy cloak, long arms looped around his waist tightly. She lifted her head enough to glance back whence they came, finding only sprawling darkness. Stranger had slowed to a trot and around them hung a silence she was hesitant to break. They’d left so quickly. He’d given her time to grab a cloak and haphazardly stuff a spare dress into a velvet bag before hurrying her out and to the stables where she’d stood terrified in the corner as he readied his horse. He hadn’t shared his plan with her, but she trusted him - she had noone else left to trust BUT him. She looked ahead now, head resting against the cold steel of his spaulder. “....Where are we going?” she finally asked in a broken voice. 

[empathetixss]

@cureuba​ ( cont. )

What had come over her? It had to be the wine. The heady alcohol made the lady of winterfell bold. She had escaped the head table where Jon sat with his men and Daenerys sat with her victory. She would let them have that. She would have this. This revelry. She grinned when she overheard Gendry being teased about Arya. Good. It was about time things like that happened around her. Laughter, it had been so long since it rang through the halls of Winterfell.

She was stepping through a doorway at the same time as Sandor who was coming back to his cups when Sam called out for them to look up. She stared at the infernal weed above their heads. Nerves picked up in her stomach. Who had kissed her last? Who had been her last kiss? Petyr? When he was trying to trick her? Ramsay, perhaps? When he was trying to bed her? Had she ever kissed anyone because she had simply wanted to? No. Now was the time.

Sansa looked up at Sandor before smiling sweetly, "Well..." When she realized he wasn't paying any attention to her, grabbed his collar and pulled him down for a kiss. Oh? If he didn't kiss her back it would be on him. Except, she was startled when he did. His hand unexpected at the hollow of her throat made her gasp. She was sure he felt her pulse jump against his fingertips. Blue eyes soft she shook her head, red locks falling around her shoulders, the way he called her name made her knees weak.

"It's a tradition..." She whispered, before remembering her place and quickly stepping away. She crossed the doorway and was outside in the cold before anyone could stop her. Oh, no... Oh no... She let the cold embrace her, it would be better than remembering how moments ago, she had kissed someone she had been fascinated by ages ago.

[donahontes]

continued from here @cureuba

Narrowing her eyes at Sandor she shook her head then stood up from her place behind her desk, “Someone has to stay here, Jon was banish, Arya could never sit still even if someone managed to tie her up.” pushing a hand through her hair she took a deep breath, “there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” her father’s words ringing true in her mind, her family had been ruling the north for thousands of years - and she’d continue to do so for her entire life.

“Even if I wanted to go somewhere else, where would I go? I’ve done enough traveling to last me a life time,” she spat back at him, “Not everyone is content to be always on the move, this is the happiest I’ve been in years and I won’t let you ruin my good mood.” Sansa turned from him with a huff to leave the room, her mind swirling with anger - how dare he it felt as if someone was once again second guessing her, only this time it was someone she trusted implicitly with important decisions. It hurt.

[agirlingrey]

❛ @cureuba​ ❜  SENT A RAVEN

❛  “Give me the knife and I’ll do it myself.”  ❜

It was an offer that Alys accepted GLADLY, immediately handing him the knife and taking a step back. Though she tried her best to maintain civility by hiding the sheer DISGUST she felt —  but by the twist of her expression, she imagined she was not being very successful. As soon as the blade touched his skin to do... whatever he intended to do, she turned her face away to stare at the wall across from them as if it was the most INTERESTING thing she had ever seen.

“I am not certain it will be enough, once the wound had set. Or if there is corruption of the flesh already.” There was a SICKENING sound that sounded like blood and flesh, but although she flinched, she did not turn around to see. “I think it might be wise to go see a maester.” For whatever reason, he was proving to be very STUBBORN about not doing that. “We have one in this very castle, in fact.”

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ NEW AMSTERDAM / 1.04 –– 1.07  /  ACCEPTING.

[cvrsedrose]

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐄 folllowed you !

 ❝ should i be scared of you ? ❞  olenna said she lacks sense . and she supposes , that if another were to be standing in front of the hound ; they might be frightened . they would expected to be frightened .  ❝ do you like it when people are scared of you ? ❞

[goldcnlicn]

( @cureuba​ wrote ||: [txt] if i have to hear you mewling like a kitten in heat at 3 am one more time i just might fling myself off the dorm rooftop )

( Text: Sandyboy ) wow. ok. 1. rued. 2. attlaest I’m geting liad.

[hiddensteel]

@cureuba  said             “  i am being perfectly fucking civil.  ”

        lips pursed but there was a small glimmer of amusement in her eyes. he would surely see it. thankfully no one else was present; the others who had previously occupied the room had been escorted out. she might know that sandor was harmless less genuine harm was befalling her, but with his gruff tone and towering appearance it was easy for others to be MISTAKEN. she still remembered the times he had frightened her, though they belonged only in the past now. now sandor clegane was one of her most t r u s t e d guards. however, he failed to grasp the silent aspect of the role, especially when sansa’s suitors were around.

          ❝  you said he sounded like a boy who’s... voice hadn’t deepened. ❞              albeit using words far cruder than she’d dare speak even in private. how RED the lord’s son had turned.          ❝  and if he didn’t silence his pandering you would do it for him. ❞            sansa hoped she didn’t need to say how UNACCEPTABLE that was. 

pinterest sentence meme  |  accepting !

[whitecne]

someone on twitter said geralt is shrek, what are your thoughts on this.

&. dreamworks presents..

[aclashofmuses-a]

@cureuba​

[rhaelluna-a]

content wife is content as hubby holds her lil hand !

@cureuba​​

[draedys]

cureuba replied to your post: me, talking about how old draedys is compared to...

see this is where i suffer because sandor is 30 he’s younger than all the ‘adults’ but his only peers are Children

YES

also draedys suffers from tall man syndrome aka if he looks straight ahead and someone is standing too close to him he just looks straight over their head bc My Mans is almost seven feet tall

draedys is just Strugglin let him and sandor bond over being Old Men

[snowmcid]

@cureuba​ said:  ✿

send me a  ✿  and i’ll fill out the template below. bold for things i could definitely see or want, italics for things i could see or am unsure of and striked out for things i don’t want or cannot see.

FRIENDSHIP.    childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  / fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  / circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  / frenemies / roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  / exes to friends /  enemies to friends  /  other .

ROMANCE.    childhood sweethearts  / [ your muse is mines ] childhood crush /  [ my muse is yours ] childhood crush  /  exes  /  exes to lovers  /  forbidden lovers  /  highschool sweethearts  /  secret relationship  /  opposites attract  /  long distance  /  unrequited [ from your muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from my muses side ]  /  unrequited [ from both sides ]  /  skinny love  /  friends to lovers  /  enemies to lovers  /  spurious relationship  /  power couple  /  newly entered  /  soulmates [ metaphorical ]  /  soulmates  [ literal ]  /  awkward  /  turning toxic  /  toxic love  /  cheating [ on your muse ]  /  cheating [ with your muse ]  /  other .

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other .

ANTAGONISTIC.    dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight club  /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other .

[sapphiremaid-archive]

The Long Way Down || Brienne & Sandor

@cureuba

The Northern wind near chills her to the bone and she silently curses herself for not bringing a cloak along on her travels.

It is better I did not, she muses. Cumbersome things, no use in a fight.

She decides she will cease her thoughts upon the climate. More important matters have reared their head, like where in the Seven Hells the young Stark girl has fled to.

Brienne had been too caught up in her fight with the great beast they called the Hound and had trusted her young squire to keep eyes on Lady Arya. And yet he had not.

The fight had been brutal and bloody and Brienne was certain, by the dull ache in her left shoulder, that some degree of dislocation had occurred in that joint. She had won, of course. Her opponent now lay broken and bruised at the foot of the cliff she now sat atop with Podrick at her side. She needed to rest before they moved on. Exacerbating her injuries would not serve her well.

An hour and the Stranger had not seemed to come for the Hound. His groans permeated the air, filling the lulls between gusts of wind. Somehow, the sounds of pain creep inside her and she throws her hatred to the wind, rising from the rock she sits upon. Podrick looks at her curiously but a simple wave of her hand silences any question threatening to spill from his lips.

Slowly, sure-footedly, she makes her way down the slope, stopping before the dying man and looking down on him.

"If I help you, you must tell me where Lady Arya may be headed. She is in need of protection."