#game of thrones too - first five seasons at least

[colmansnotes]

Staying on my ME kick, just finished the first game again and had forgotten how absolutely stellar the story is. The pacing, the ramp up in tension, the way the back story is revealed, hell even the little touches like the way the Citadel tower was designed as a landing pad for a Reaper. Everything really comes together in that last hour or so. Hard to remember a story in any medium that tugged that cohesively right to the last moment.

Any streaming studio could buy the rights to this thing, make a few tiny tweaks to dialogue and maybe a few beats here and there, and have a 10-12 episode TV series that would absolutely thrill. Seriously, the amount of work needed to port this thing to the small screen is basically zero. Visual design, characters, the vast majority of the dialogue - it's all there and as close to a slam dunk as possible.

Of course we'd probably get another rewrite and reimagining to avoid retreading the same ground as the game, and the result would be immensely worse for the trouble, but I can dream...

[destroyerofnations92]

book!Tyrion and book!Daenerys are my favourite characters. I have been looking forward to them meeting since the first time I picked up A Game of Thrones, so when the promo pictures of them meeting in season five came out I was beyond excited.

For a while that continued, even though for whatever reason they started dumbing down Tyrion. Their chemistry was remarkable and it felt like their story could be the backbone of the remainder of the show.

It sorta was but not in a good way.

Tyrion was pushed to the background in favour of the least interesting Northerner alive, Jon Snow, and eventually Rhaegar's bastard started cannibalizing Daenerys too.

The worst thing is that while I did not love book!Jon, I did quite like him. However, his show!version has made me hope Dany and Jon never meet, or that he stays dead.

I know there is a chance that George never finishes the book series because the man is getting up there in years, but I hope to at least read of Tyrion and Dany meeting.

The show broke me, and it seems like House of the Dragon is on its way to doing the same. Great characters are butchered in favour of villains and book!canon is pushed aside.

It's still in the early stages but anyone interested in a Tyion-centric post-season eight/seven-year time jump story, come have a look at my Patreon: patreon.com/DestroyerofNations. The story is called amidst salt and smoke, and it is Tyrion coming to terms with his faults and his hand in Daenerys' death. There are going to be many twists and turns along the way, and there are some surprising and not-so-surprising villains. I am going to post the first chapter on AO3 next week as well.

[welldonebeca]

The Sorority Ceremony (II)

Summary: Since the '90s, Sam's fraternity has been working with a sorority in a secret alliance of sexual pleasure. Each girl who joined the sorority would have to go through an initiation process in a public ceremony with a fraternity brother, where she would be served and made to orgasm once for each letter of her first name. When a special member joins out of season, Sam is the only man the sorority leader trusts to welcome her in. Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female!OC WC: 1.2k words Warnings: Stanford times. Fluff. Teasing. Crack. No supernatural AU.

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

The idea of the fraternity helping with the joining of the new members of Jess' sorority was something that pre-dated Sam's journey at Stanford. Apparently, it was something from after the 90s' wave of feminism or something, aiming for women's empowerment in education and sexual liberation.

Each girl who joined the sorority would have to go through an initiation process that involved being given orgasms by the brothers in his fraternity.

One for each letter of her name.

Of course, if the girls weren't interested in men, then they would be a female version of the treatment.

How the orgasm was given was never specified.

In the beginning, he was told, the girls were fucked by the brothers, which constantly led to the girl not being taken care of, and many brothers prioritising their own pleasures before the girls, which had created the system that hand-picked who would be part of the ceremony - even more than how their fraternity itself hand-picked who was going to join their fraternity.

Currently, as far as he knew, they had eight main members of that selected group - three women and five men - and each was assigned a girl depending on her needs, level of experience and comfort in general.

Sam was the one Jess always chose for mainly two categories: Jess’ favourite girls, and the virgins/inexperienced.

Apparently, this one was both.

But it wasn't very fair to the other brothers - the trusted ones, at least - that the fraternity didn't get anything out of the experience, which was why the ceremony had to happen in front of the whole fraternity and at least part of her sorority.

It was very fun all around.

Everyone enjoyed seeing the girls creaming, cumming over and over again. Many of the fraternity brothers even learnt new techniques to use in other girls. Of course, they would have some private aftercare for the girls later, and they could opt-out of their ceremony being too public in some cases - according to Jess.

Annie was... a very short name.

Just five letters.

Five orgasms.

It wasn't like he was disappointed, no, but... well, he wanted to take his time with her. He wanted to make her feel good.

So maybe he was a little greedy.

What was wrong with that?

Sam remembered one of the first girls he had who had a big name. Roberta. Eight letters, eight orgasms.

He had made her so sloppy, leaking all over their special leather couch. She was absolutely wrecked in the end.

He remembered the story of Aria's ceremony. Her actual name was Arianna - Aria was just a nickname she picked up after Game of Thrones - and the girl who had done the ceremony with her had had the time of her life. She'd made her beg, and even squirt.

With Annie, he was just sad he wouldn't be able to do a lot.

Sam just loved making girls into overstimulated drippy sluts.

And Jess knew that very well, of course.

He checked his wristwatch, to make sure he was there at the right time, and knocked on the door of Annie's dorm.

She had moved to the sorority, but it was part of the tradition to take girls from their dorms, and then take them to the house after the ceremony.

He adjusted his shoulders as he raised and had to lower his gaze when the door finally opened.

Yep, she was very short.

"Good afternoon?" she quipped.

Sam sucked in a breath, trying to be discreet as he eyed her body. It was, indeed, small and toned like what he saw on her Instagram, though he could see Jess had been wrong about one of her features.

Well, her tits were small enough that Sam could grab both with a hand, but Jess probably couldn't.

"Good afternoon," he palmed his pockets and pulled his ID. "I'm Sam Winchester."

Annie took it from his hand and checked it, taking a picture and sending it over to someone she trusted - something all of the girls could do if they wanted to - giving his back and doing the same with her own ID.

"Annie Picon?" he asked.

When his eyes fell on the ID, though, he was proved pleasantly wrong.

"Antoinette, actually," she corrected him. "My friends call me Annie for short."

His eyes darted to the date of her birth, checking her age - Nineteen and a week - before giving back her document.

"Happy late birthday," Sam spoke, at last.

Antoinette.

Ten letters.

"Thank you," she rubbed her hands together.

He took a short look at her, trying to be discreet.

Annie was wearing comfortable clothes, a small skirt and a sleeveless skirt with her blonde hair loose, and she was probably not wearing a bra.

"Are you nervous?" he asked.

She squeezed her hands together, caressing them softly.

"A little," she told him in a confessional tone. "It's going to be you, right?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "Don't worry, I'm going to do everything in your rhythm. I'll use the colour system, are you familiar with it?"

She nodded.

"Green to go, yellow to watch out and red to take a break."

"And then black if you need to stop everything," he added.

He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck, a little unsure.

"And are you..." he looked for words. "Uh... experienced?"

Her cheeks flushed pink, and he had to look away. Fuck, she was so adorable. He just wanted to stain her cute cheeks with her makeup, make her cry from pleasure.

"I think?" Annie answered slowly, though it sounded more like a question. "I'm not a virgin."

He cleared his throat, but nodded along.

"Of course," he confirmed. "And you are comfortable with the ceremony?"

Her cheeks reddened more.

"I'm actually excited," Annie confessed. "It's something I've been looking forward to. I couldn't wait for the next joining season to do it, and Jess was very nice and said I could do it the month after my birthday."

Sam licked his lips, trying to will himself into not getting hard. She was already such an eager minx.

He had read over her list of kinks and limits in the morning, and had had to jerk off when he realised it was everything he fucking loved to do, that they were completely compatible.

"Let's go, then," he decided.

She followed him out of the dorm and into his car, smiling when Sam opened the door for her to enter, keeping up his front, trying his best to behave and not give in to his instincts of just kissing her silly right there and then.

The drive to the fraternity house was short, and he could see that a lot of the sorority girls were right there already, all of them collecting the phones of everyone present and hiding them so no one would record anything.

He rolled his eyes at his friends, watching the two girls moving to the centre of the room, and looked back at Brady when Annie placed a hand over the sorority book.

Everyone had heard that oath too many times to even pay attention to it.

"Brother Samuel Winchester," Jess called, making him turn to look at them.

He adjusted his shoulders, and his friend was smiling wickedly as she looked at him, extending a hand to Annie.

"You shall begin your part."

. . . .

"The Sorority Ceremony" was posted on my Patreon in May 2022. To read it before anyone else, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and I post everything there earlier! .

. .

orever Tags: @emoryhemsworth​​​ @amythyststorm33​​​ @shaelyn102​​​ @yknott81​​​ ​​@maximofftrash​​​ @kgbrenner​​​ @thefridgeismybestie​​​ @magpiegirl80​​​ @mogaruke​​​ @shadowhunter7​​​ @musicalcoffeebean​​​ @megasimpleplan4ever​​​ @deemoriarty​​​ @05spn18​​​ @malindacath​​​ @kdcollinsauthor​​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​​​ @widowsfics​​​ @frozenhuntress67​​​ @averyrogers83​​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​​ @nerdypinupcrystal​ @giruvega​

Supernatural tags: @its-daydreamer23​​ @imagefanfictionlover​​ ​​ @smalltowndivaj​​ @tayrae515 @oneshoeshort​​ @andkatiethings​​ @wakanda-sometimes​​ @akshi8278​​ @xoxabs88xox​​ @random-fandom-fangirl2112​ @calstielwinchester ​ @isabelle-faith @flamencodiva @lyarr24 Supernatural Kinky Fics (+18): @littlecassisub @stoneyggirl2 @death-unbecomes-you @phoenixblack89 @that-dark-girl

[thenameswinter99]

For the asks,

Daenerys Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen

-🦊

SDLKFHFDSKLFHSKòLFHSòLKDFHLSKDJFH FOXY HOW DARE YOU. YOU CAN'T LET ME CHOOSE BETWEEN MY TARG QUEENS... AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

*clears her throat* Anyways

Kick them out of bed:

Like Daeron, we don't have Visenya's actress so I'll use the faceclaim THE WHOLE FANDOM choose.

I hope she'll forgive me, but I don't see Visenya as a person who would be spend her whole day in bed and cuddling you. She would neither spend her day cuddling you while mounting Vhagar. As you said, she's more asexual than than the other two.

2. Let them stay to cuddle:

I put young and old Rhaenyra for a reason: both of them deserve to be cuddled for what happened to them.

Imagine a 15-year-old girl (9 in the books) who finds out that her mother died in childbirth with the son her father always wanted, names her heir to his crown because he feels 'guilty' about his wife's death, sees her best friend (show canon) marry her father and ends up in an arranged marriage because Viserys wants to avoid further "scandals" about her affair with her uncle Daemon (always show canon, when I think he just wanted to appease the wrath of House Velaryon for not choosing the Sea Snake's daughter as the new Queen of the Seven Kingdoms).

And as she grew up, she had to move away from King's Landing because her former best friend began tormenting her and her children, and after her father's death she found her claim usurped by the Hightowers, who put her half-brother on the throne, had her only daughter miscarry, and lost a son to the Greens. Not to mention the tragedies she faced once on the throne and her gruesome end.

This is enough for me to take Nyra and cuddle her until she feels better and safe.

3. Introduce them to friends & family:

If Sihtric is husband material, then Daenerys is wife material.

And no, not that bullshit of the "mad queen" D&D gave us in that horrible last two seasons of GoT (which for me don't exist). But the REAL Dany, the Dany we see in the books and in the first five seasons (because, at least for me, she started becoming OOC from the sixth season).

Actually, she deserves cuddles because she too has had to endure hard times. But giving her the family she never had due to circumstances would help her a lot. Her polite and gentle nature, but also her determination and confidence, is what your family and friends will love about her.

And let's face the truth: she has not one, but THREE dragons. More points for her.

Rank three fictional characters ask game

[superprincesspea]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for tagging me @ewanmitchellcrumbs <3

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

23

2. what's your total AO3 word count?

628,894

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Currently, House of the Dragon but I've also done The Walking Dead, Vikings, The Last Kingdom, Loki, Game of Thrones, The X Files and a few others.

4. top five fics by kudos

The Hound's Wife (1050), The Honey House (721), Courted by the Dragon (689), The Lady and the Bear (530) and Paths Crossed (469)

5. do you respond to comments?

Yes and no. I love responding to comments but I'm also terrible at doing it. I'm trying to be better.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I love angst more than anything but I mostly write romance so I try to give a HEA. Or at the very least an open ending. My angstiest fic is probably Creep and it's my homage to The Landlady by Roald Dahl.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think Knock has to be my happiest ending because I literally saved the main character from his canon death and gave him a beautiful life.

8. do you get hate on fics?

Rarely and not recently, I used to get quite a bit of hate for writing Negan but I never responded to it.

9. do you write smut?

Yes

10. craziest crossover?

I wrote a fun crossover for an old friend and its a threesome with Fox Mulder, You, and Jeffrey Dean Morgan's FBI character from Solace. It's called The Red Velvet Inn.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

I don't think so. A couple of people mentioned it to me years ago for The Honey House but I don't know if they did it.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've attempted to in the past but its always been too many working parts to figure out and its never come to fruition. I do like the idea of co-writing though, maybe it could be something easier to organise like characters exchanging letters or something.

14. all time favorite ship?

Richonne, hands down! I just love the way they love each other. I was rewatching the first few seasons of TWD recently and all I wanted to do was skip to their scenes. I also really loved Jamie and Brienne but... I'm not going to open that can of worms! And Mulder and Scully will always be my OG's.

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Never say never.

16. what are your writing strengths?

I like to think I'm good at understanding characters and their motivations. I hope I'm good at making people feel like they're falling in love (butterflies, kicking, screaming, the works). In my most recent series, people have really been enjoying the banter between the characters, its probably what is most commented on, so maybe dialogue?

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Pacing and forgetting wtf I've written.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Love it and I'm terrible at it

19. first fandom you wrote in?

The Walking Dead

20. favorite fic you've written?

That's like choosing a favourite child. All fics are my favourite and I'm honestly proud of them all even if I would write them completely differently now.

No pressure tags: @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @anjelicawrites @barbieaemond @adragonprinceswhore and anyone else who wants to do this, please tag me if you do!

[maddy011901]

hi 🍂🩷🌙🧣

(previously known as omfgdany)

ao3

sims 4 gallary id: maddy011901

💌 a list of things you might see on my blog (this is a fandom blog, first and foremost)

sims 4 posting (builds, cas, challenges, legacy, etc...)

tubbo

hex haywire 🖤❗️

redacted audio (gavin is my favorite)

hermitcraft!!!

aesthetic posts

yuurivoice (alphonse, by beloved)

hermitcraft (season 9 is defiantly my fave lol but 7 and 8 will always hold special places in my heart)

traffic life series (scar, my beloved &lt;;3)

the last of us (ellie is my ride or die)

genshin impact (only got into it bc of venti, he's my baby)

anime (my current top 5: banana fish, fruits basket, psycho-pass, black butler, & )

other mcyt (it is still mostly tubbo)

one direction (I'm not a larrie anymore but my faves are harry & louis)

taylor swift (die hard swiftie since debut ~ top five albums in no peticular order: evermore, speaknow, ttpd, reputation & folklore)

high fantasy books (idk how to read /j)

fnaf (I've been a fan since around fnaf 2! freddy is my fave)

stim boards

barbie movies

bratz dolls (I've had a fixation on them since i was a kid)

obey me (I'm in love with asmodeus and beelzebub)

music & musicians (i'm not particularly picky about music so expect all kinds of stuff)

the scream movies (HUGE fan of the 1st 4...i feel realty neutral about 5 and 6)

sanrio (i like cute, sweet things)

pokemon (i like fairy and grass types but my favorite pokemon is Ditto lol)

birds (one of my special interests from when I was a kid that has recently resurfaced lol)

game of thrones & house of the dragon (i have complicated feelings)

good omens

the narnia movies (idk how to feel about the remakes but i am hopeful!)

resident evil games (i like the stage plays too!)

the mcu (loki stan, bucky stan, wanda stan, peter stan)

other roleplay asmr (this is something very personal to me so i don't really talk about it lol)

2000s and 2010s "nostalgia"

dragon ball (the og anime, my bf introduced me to it and I fell in love)

anime tiddies

fanart (i love reblogging fanart)

fanfic (i write & reblog fanfic!)

🐰 about me 🌷

i don't really retire from fandoms (unless i have a negative experience) so i blog about an endless number of fandoms

all pronouns means i am comfortable with any and/or all pronouns being used for me!! (i think i'm agender?)

Dany is not my real name, i started going by it online in 2019/2020 :) my real name is Maddy, idc which i am called ~ i have also gone by the names Kitty, Raye, & Bambi online

my favorite color is #f3859f

my special interest is a fantasy world i created when i was a little kid and i am currently writing a fantasy book series based on it

I'm a capricorn

I am in a relationship <3

my favorite characters are almost always "the blonde one" (they're at least "blonde coded")

my favorite number is 19

i'm a tumblr veteran (my first ever tumblr account was made in 2013/2014)

I've been writing fanfiction since i was 10 (i was writing it before i even knew it was a thing lol) my first fanfic was a walking dead fanfic i also made edit tv/movie trailers for lol

age regressor but I don't really post about it online

I am active on other social media (Instagram, tiktok, Twitter, reddit, pinterest, etc...)

My blog speaks for itself for the most part. I'm a chronic reblogger

i've been writing as a hobby since childhood, including original fiction/fantasy works and fanfic and poetry

🎀 other info 🧸

i was diagnosed with "level 1 autism" in 2020 but i think i am actually more like level 2 tbh

i use my queue for reblogs (most of the time) so i don't clog up feeds and stuff :)

if you feel the need to block me, for whatever reason, that is okay

if you appear to be a bot (no pfp, no posts/reblogs, no bio, no recent activity, etc) i WILL block you

my asks are closed because they make me anxious

i don't have a dni list because if i dont want you to interact with me i will just block you

i am not comfortable sharing much about my personal life. that being said might reblog/like/follow things related to myself or my personal life

i am queer (for now I'm going with agender bisexual, but that is subject to change)

i frequently use tone indicators

💘 tags 💭

tags stayed the same post name change lol

dany rambles - exactly what it sounds like, just rambles

dany's diary - personal posts (this is a more recent tag, older posts won't have it)

dany vents - vent posts (i also tags these as "vent" and "vent post")

dany writes - posts about my writing but not my wips/fics/etc themselves

dany's q - posts from my queue

simming with dany (sims 4 posting lol)

💬 socials 🍓

tiktok (shitposting&theonlyglimpsyougetintomypersonalife)

twitter (taylorswiftstanaccount)

pinterest (fandomfaves&myaesthetic)

spotify (music!!!)

[queenaeducan]

tagged by @skyeventide!

Last song: I’ve listened to songs on shuffle but ngl I don’t really remember which and I cannot be bothered to go get my phone and see which last Spotify song I put on. HOWEVER, I do remember the other day talking about Zelda music and going onto Youtube to seek out the Deku Palace theme b/c it’s one of my fave Zelda tracks.

Last show you watched: I watched episode 8 of HoTD on my last day off. After episode five I was kinda sad b/c I was enjoying the first half of the season so much more than this one, but this episode was good. The dynamics between the characters were at their best here. The time skips are so strange b/c on the one hand I wish we saw more of the stuff that was skipped over, but it is the first time I’ve been interesting in reading (and writing) Westeros fanfic and due in large part to those jumps.

Last movie: Joly and I rewatched the LotR series on New Year’s Eve. They continue to be special films that I appreciate every time I experience them.

Currently reading: I’m about half-way through rereading Game of Thrones. Been in a bit of a writing slump for a variety of reasons and revisiting the world and story has helped me at least think about writing. I love how GoT can be quite concise in its telling and one thing I’ve really been struggling with when it comes to long fic is not deliberating over moments too long. Also even tho I know how it ends I always read it hoping Ned will get out of dodge. It could still happen.

Current obsession: I’m kind of ping-ponging between ASoIaF and Legend of Zeldla. I’ve sort of run out of ASoIaF content to watch or read until I’ve finished HoTD so I’ve been watching a playlist of Zelda theories on my work breaks.

tagging @rosella-writes, @ziskandra, @dreadfutures, @bluewren, @oxygenforthewicked, @delicatefade

[echobx]

I decided to take the questions from this ask game to introduce myself a little more.

❤️ how tall are you?

5'4 / 163cm

🧡 what is your sexuality?

I'm queer all over, but ig the closest when it comes to a specific label would be pan

💛 what is your favorite feature on yourself?

my hair (unless they betray me) and my eyes (and lips...)

💚 where are you from?

Germany

🩵 do you have any pets?

yes. I have two cats, Prince (11 years old) and Maggi (3 years old). our dogs Luigi (6 years old) and Liv (2 years old) are more family dogs. and my sister has two more cats, Sunny (6 years old) and Lila (5 years old)

💙 do you have any siblings?

yes. I have four half siblings, two on my mom's and two on my dad's side. but I only really talk to my sister that still lives with me and my parents.

💜 describe yourself in five words or less!

loyal, smart, funny, neurodivergent™ (and forgetful bc idk what else I am)

🩷 dream job?

full time writer

🖤 favorite hobbies outside of your blog

I collect vinyl, love to read and swim but mostly I watch shows and get deep into the lore of them and I love to talk about them with like minded people

🎂 when is your birthday?

November 27th

🌙 your zodiac (Sun, Moon, Rising)

Sun & Moon Sagittarius, Leo Rising

💉do you have tattoos and/or piercings

I only have a single set of lobe piercings for earrings, but I dream of having at least two sets, and a helix one for my right ear

🚗 can you drive?

yes. I learnt to drive manual (stick) and I only had to drive automatic once and hated that specific loss of control

✈️ favorite place you’ve traveled

Munich. I haven't been that many places, and I've never flown.

🎤 have you been to a concert

no. but that will hopefully change soon.

🎵 favorite artists

Taylor Swift, Lizzy McAlpine, Conan Gray, Billie Eilish, Cro, Finneas

🎧 last song you listened too

All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor's Version)

📺 last show you watched

Game of Thrones (rewatch)

📝 last thing you wrote

“Love you too, J,” I whispered while drifting off and hoping that he hadn't actually heard me.

🔐 something no one would guess about you

I've only ever had one person tell me that they love me and it was the most awkward moment of my life bc the guy was someone I considered to possibly become my friend and not to be interested romatically in me. and ig I broke his heart and I didn't feel any bad about it, but all of my "friends" told me I was cruel and I should give him a chance bc "at least he's interested in you" in retrospect I should definitely have cut ties with my friends that second and it just shows how little these ppl thought of me. just bc I'm a bigger girl doesn't mean I have to settle for the first guy who shows interest, and even worse bc he later turned out to be one of the most toxic ppl I was ever friends with

🧟‍♀️ scariest thing that’s happened to you

I got really drunk, like blackout drunk, bc I drank a whole bottle of vodka and had nothing to eat all day (2.3‰ by the end as it turned out) and the ambulance that was to take me to the ER took a detour and idk what happened in those missing 20 minutes... so ig that

🔥 craziest thing that’s ever happened to you

on the one school ski trip (the only time I ever went skiing in my life) on the last day I literally went head over heals when going down the mountain and my ski flew a few feet away from me and my teachers all thought I just killed myself or broke something to the very least, but I just got up and kept going. but maybe this accident is the reason for my chronic back pain that no one ever checked up on. (srsly fuck those old white men doctors)

🍓 favorite food

pancakes

🍅 least favorite food

olives and mushrooms

🍊 favorite season?

spring

🍋 favorite genre to read / watch / write

read: fantasy

watch: fantasy

write: romance

🍐 if you could make one character real, who would it be

def JJ for very selfish reasons 👀

🫐 some place you’d love to visit

San Francisco

🍇 a word your friends would use to describe you

feisty (@notdxbya said so)

🍒 what is your earliest memory

we were at the Playmobil Park and I was milking a plastic cow

🍌 what is one talent you wish you had

I wish I could study and instantly know it all, like I read it not more than twice and know it.

💌 why did you start this blog?

bc I felt the need to share my writing

✏️ when did you start writing fanfic

actually genuinely, in March 2023 bc the third season of OBX fucked me up big time and I needed to fix it (I'm still working on that one)

but my first fanfic, that I never finished, was in 2014 I believe and it was Hunger Games fic that I wrote in german on Instagram

🖇️ what are your favorite asks to answer

meta. like, anything that let's me dive into meta and characterisation especially. specifically JJ (and Kiara and Rafe bc I pay attention to those three the most when I watch OBX)

📚 how do you come up with the fics you write

a lot of times I get inspired by songs or something I read sparks an idea. other times I just get a scene stuck in my head. or (which happens rarely) I dream something vaguely specific and then I try and put the characters in that scenario or something, that one gave me way to write one of my most favorite chapters I've ever written for my Lovebirds fic, which will be posted this year, I hope...

📌 what is the fic you’re know for

idk 😶 literally no clue, I'd have to ask my moots or followers. ig if my stuff got more popular then maybe.

🔍 what character do you enjoy writing for the most

JJ definitely bc I'm just so much easier in that mindset and it doesn't feel like I'm an imposter.

🖊️ what character do you not enjoy writing for

I think I would have the worst time writing John B or Topper bc I just don't vibe with them 😭

💔 is there a fic you wish you didn’t write

yeah, the Ghostface one 💀

❤️‍🔥 what character do you simp for most often

JJ Maybank, he's my girlfriend, duh

🧚‍♀️ favorite characters of all time

JJ Maybank, Percy Jackson (pjo), Leo Valdez (pjo), Katniss Everdeen (thg), Jacaerys Verlaryon/Targaryen (hotd), Yelena Belova (mcu)

🪐 favorite shows / series of all time

New Girl (if you haven't watched it, shame on you! go watch it now!)

🌝 a show you would recommend to anyone

New Girl lol

but also Game of Thrones (but only s1-6 max. maybe even stop after 4 bc it starts to get bad after 4) and

House of the Dragon (we'll see how the following seasons will go)

for something else lighter, maybe Bob's Burgers it's incredibly funny and well written

🌚 a show you’d tell people to stay away from

OBX 💀 like I love it but it's my guilty pleasure, but it's badly written and has plot holes in abundance and waaay too much fan service

🌹 favorite kinks to write for

cockwarming, that's probably it bc other than that I don't really have a preference

🥀 kinks you would never write for

I wouldn't say never, but uf I try it I'll do it on my own account and not bc someone asks for it.

that said, I doubt I'll ever write anything that concerns anal bc I have trauma there and if I would I'd first have to work myself through that part of my life and right now I don't have time for that

🌊 a kink you would like to write but you think you’d be judged

stepcest 💀 I'm not doing it for reasons that only make sense to me and not for the obvious ones

❄️ full fics, imagines or head canons

full fics. bc I hardly ever not dive too deep. I have a hard time writing short stuff, literally 2k words is short for me 😭 so don't expect me to write something short ever, unless my brain won't let a fic happen

☂️ your favorite fanfic from another writer

for JJ it's Safety Net by @mvybanks

for Rafe it's Watch and Learn by @nadvs

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 328

Raising Hell

“Raising Hell”

Plot Description: the Winchesters get some much needed reinforcements as they try to ward off evil spirits from a small Kansas town. Chuck seeks out Amara in Reno

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: yeah, I’m too much of a rule follower, especially when they seem pretty reasonable and in my best interest, to have left the school where the boys have everyone in town hiding out in. You wouldn’t really catch me sneaking out at night

Sam, you used to lead a hunter army, and you’re having trouble getting the attention of some randos in a school gym??

Now that you mention it, it is wild that god let these souls out of hell and a demon is helping the Winchesters try to put them back. Thanks for the perspective, Jack the Ripper

Sam, y’all are running out of time for people to keep believing you. Cas is right

Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME? The back up is Ketch? Didn’t we just say the BMoL was a weak point??

Are Ketch and Rowena flirting now??

The number of characters we’re bringing back this season makes me laugh so sardonically considering you could watch the first episode of season one and the series finale back to back and understand everything. Why are we bringing Amara back?

Chuck thinking Game if Thrones ended great tells you everything you need to know

I refuse to hand over my Castiel Aplogists Club membership card, but…babes, you cannot believe you made the right decisions, like…ever, right??

I know they’re being serious but I think it would be funny if Ketch and Rowena were asking Dean about the other just to fucking mess with him

Always nice to watch Ketch get tossed around like a rag doll

HANG THE FUCK ON. I thought…why is Kevin Tran not in heaven?? (But again with the bringing back characters that won’t get any mention in the finale)

I’m so annoyed by Chuck, and it looks like Amara is, too. Imagine the Darkness being the zen one here (or trying to be).

I’m still not believing that Belphegor is a regular ol clock punching demon. What’s his game?

Cockblocked by Dean, good. Their flirting was getting on my nerves, and now Ketch was knocked out by Jack the Ripper

Of COURSE Ketch is possessed now…almost got the soul catcher too, too bad Dean’s not afraid to actually shoot Ketch…for the ghosts. I was sad to see him live after that

Girl, you cannot be that sad, you barely knew him

I’m so mad Kevin can’t go to Heaven. It’s not fair. At least he’s not going back to hell though??

Ok but why was Amara telling Chuck that she’s basically trapping him in this universe while simultaneously staying as far away from him as she can so hot? Get your revenge!!

[thetoxicgamer]

Welcome to the pinnacle: The 3 best MVP candidates from the 2023 LCS Spring Split

Ten skilled League of Legends teams have struggled over the course of eight weeks, but only four are still alive for the 2023 LCS Spring Split playoffs. The fight for the MVP award is intensifying with less than a week until the Spring Finals weekend in Raleigh, North Carolina. During the course of the split, a number of different contenders have climbed to the top of the league across numerous clubs, with both favourites and underdogs enjoying their moments in the spotlight. From explosive superstars, wily veterans, and rising newcomers, Riot Games has revealed the top 11 competitors for the award—and each player has an argument for the crown. In the end, however, only a single player will be victorious among the rest, and over the course of the season, there have been a trio of standouts who are most likely to win the gold. Here are the three best candidates for the 2023 LCS Spring Split MVP award. Cloud9’s Kim “Berserker” Min-cheol Although he was a bit overshadowed during the first half of the Spring Split, Berserker’s outright firepower in the bottom lane has helped C9 win games through sheer teamfighting dominance. The talented 19-year-old was the only player in the league to rack up a double-digit KDA this split and had the least amount of deaths of anyone in the LCS, according to Oracle’s Elixir. Berserker is one of the most feared carry players in the mid-to-late game thanks to his gutsy positioning, smart decision-making, and superior mechanics. He only had five total games with four or more deaths and was a menace on a variety of champions like Zeri, Draven, Caitlyn, Lucian, and Varus. Berserker is C9’s definitive X-factor who can always be relied on to carry a game and take over whenever a match gets too close for comfort. Just give him enough resources and get out of his way. FlyQuest’s Lee “Prince” Chae-hwan Recency bias might push Prince out of the MVP discussions, but for the first half of the Spring Split, the 22-year-old superstar was the best player in the league. Even after FlyQuest started to cool down following their massive win streak to start the season, Prince was always a top-two player in his role. Later on, he ended the regular season with the second-most kills in the LCS, while contributing to 37.4 percent of his team’s total eliminations on a squad that finished as the second-best team in the region. The way Prince joined a new region, excelled in such a manner, and won over the fan base in the span of a single split cannot be understated. He shares a similar champion pool as Berserker, while also dabbling in a bit of Aphelios and Kai’Sa to spice up FlyQuest’s varied team compositions. Ultimately, the heir to the throne has some doubters, but he is still one of the strongest candidates for the crown. Cloud9’s Robert “Blaber” Huang As the longest-tenured member on C9, Blaber has constantly been the engine that drives his team’s success from the jungle position. The 23-year-old veteran is gunning for the third MVP trophy of his career and this past Spring Split was another great season that could add on to his portfolio. Whether C9 needed him on a reliable tank like Maokai, playmaking champions like Wukong, or anything in between, Blaber was willing to play whatever the team needed to succeed. His early-game movement and macro play helped push his laners forward, giving them enough room to spread their wings and fly. He also led his role in average damage to champions per minute, while finding perfect angles to kick off game-winning plays across the spring. If Berserker is the X-factor that closes out games, Blaber is the engine that C9 runs on. If they want to perform just as well as they did through the regular season, they’ll need the best jungler in the league to elevate his game to new heights before the rest of the playoffs rages on. Read the full article

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Death & Dowries

Summary: The Iron Bank of Braavos will always have its due. But dowries make things…complicated and the pride of men knows no bounds. A bargain is struck between a Keyholder of the Iron Bank and Tywin Lannister and the life of an adventurous woman is suddenly uprooted as she is made the newest Lady of Casterly Rock. But the wedding of King Joffrey Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell brings a familiar face to King’s Landing and a Braavosi woman always has a backup plan.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/F!Reader, (arranged) Tywin Lannister/F!Reader, Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand

WARNINGS: Spousal abuse, death, murder, lite smut, my over-use of italics, mentions of child birth and babies (please DO NOT read if any of this will upset you)

Word Count: 12.1k (heavy sigh)

(banner by my love @starlight-starwrites​ )

A/N: The italics denote the “present” time. Circa Season 7 Episode 7. I’m going to throw a lot of ASOIAF lore at you so, if you have ANY questions, please just ask! 

You can read this on Ao3, if you prefer!

She had hoped to never step foot into this wretched city again. But Cersei had called and she knew she must answer to keep the unstable queen from looking too closely. And, of course, she wanted to see a dragon.

What she did not expect to see was a familiar shade of yellow and orange while a recognizable laugh rang in the tense air. She froze at the entrance and her handmaiden smacked into her back. “I am so sorry, my lady,” she whispered.

The sudden noise drew attention and soon Oberyn and Ellaria were standing from their seats, kind eyes locked on her.

**

Westeros was nothing that her father had promised when he set her on the ship and sent her away from home. It was supposed to be exciting and new and beautiful and everything she wanted in a home. Instead, she had been gifted a cold castle filled with portraits of a woman who she was supposed to be replacing and an old man for a betrothed.

But even the Keyholders of the Iron Bank of Braavos knew of Tywin Lannister. "He is a powerful man. You will be well-cared for and loved by the people you govern, my sweet," her father said, his smile not quite touching his eyes. "That is all I want for you."

It was a lie. A pretty lie, but a lie all the same. Her father and a handful of other Keyholders all had daughters of the marrying age and had created a terrible, unspoken game between them. Everything had a price. Especially to the men and women who controlled the keys to the Iron Bank.

Dowries for their daughters were boasted and bartered. Whomever paid the most, bragged that their line was as coveted as a princess.

It was all ridiculous. A stupid game. Especially for people who usually wanted to protect their coin.

Y/N was thankful she had no sisters so that they would not be subjected to this prick-measuring game, too.

Whispers had spread through Braavos when her father had set her betrothal.

It was a dowry worthy of four princesses of old, surely.

But Tywin Lannister would not see a single coin.

An almost flawless plan, Y/N thought. Her father would pay half of the Iron Throne's debts to the Bank in exchange for Y/N becoming the new Lady of Casterly Rock. For as large as her dowry was, Y/N was only slightly amused at how small her wedding festivities were when she arrived at King’s Landing. A handful of people, mostly Lannisters and their bannermen, and the three handmaidens she had brought with her from Braavos. The furnishings were fine and the food was almost salted correctly but it was small. Tywin wrapped her in a crimson red cloak and kissed her with unmoving lips and she had become Lady Y/N Lannister, a lion of the rock.

And that was it. Little fanfare and her life was completely uprooted. And as the days continued to pass, she doubted she would ever find a bit of happiness in her new station.

She had to keep herself from yawning as Tywin rutted above her, grunting like an old boar. But he finished soon enough and rolled off of her and grabbed his robe. As soon as it was fastened around his waist, he strode out of her chambers without a look back.

The door opened soon after and her small horde of handmaidens quickly entered, already bringing her a steaming pot of tea and a balm for her skin where her lord husband always clutched too tight.

She had given up on telling him it hurt after the first fortnight and considered herself at least a little lucky that the old man still knew how to move his hips.

“How do you fare, my lady?” One handmaiden asked in the lilting tongue of the Braavosi dialect of High Valyrian. She quickly pressed a cup of tea into Y/N’s hands.

“Better, now that you are all here with me.”

One took to changing the bed coverings and another helped her stand and quickly began to wash her skin with steaming water scented with roses. The tea was bitter on her tongue but she quickly drank it and let another handmaiden take the empty cup from her hand as soon as it was finished.

“Have the kitchen maids asked what the tea is again?”

“Not since we told them it was a magical potion to guarantee a boy and that it was filled with the blood of a calf and ash from the Doom.” One of them smiled, remembering how the nosey maids nearly fainted at the sound of their lie. It was an ingenious ruse, if she was being honest. Y/N knew that most of the servants in Casterly Rock reported to Tywin about her movements and the company she kept. Thinking she was a witch who relied on bloodmagic easily discounted anything they whispered to her lord husband. And it also kept them from truly investigating her tea—not that anyone on this stupid continent would be able to name it anyway. The root her handmaids boiled for her every time Tywin visited her chamber was not anything magical or arcane.

It was an old recipe from the famed pleasure houses of Braavos—to prevent pregnancy. And it was working remarkably well. The maester had confirmed her fertility so she knew Tywin was probably doubting his own ability as the months continued to trickle by and she was yet to become pregnant. The thought made her laugh. As did the truth that Tywin would never get he had anticipated with the betrothal agreement he had signed with her father. She had decided that as soon as he had sneered at her on their wedding night and said, “I suppose you will do,” before taking what he needed from her body without care for her at all. And whenever he visited her bed, his hands were always too tight, too rough and would not relent even when tears pricked at her eyes and slid down her cheeks. He never stopped. He never cared. Even when his dislike of her as a person evolved to curling his hands into her arms and leaving her with swollen eyes and tender skin. He always made sure they were alone when he raised his hands to her, but he seemed fond of doing so whenever she ever disagreed with him.

She knew that other Keyholders thought her father foolish for her hefty dowry—a steep price to pay for pride. But her mother once said that while blood will open the door, clout will get you a seat at the table.

Her father had the gold to spare, she supposed. And she always wanted a kingdom of her own.

Now…now one was finally within her grasp. Even if it came with such a poor consort. That was what she told herself, anyway.

Just as she was dressed for the day, her chamber door opened again and a servant strode in, eyes darting around the gaggle of women as if searching for something to report. His mouth opened and he informed them all that Lord Tywin had been called to the Riverlands and left her in charge of Casterly Rock. She had heard whispers of the War of the Five Kings from high and lowborn alike. It was a shame that she was kept so far from the action she was so accustomed to at least witnessing with a spyglass from her chamber windows. The Keyholders often had a stake in the wars fought around Westeros and Essos. Having allies in positions of power meant they were in positions of power—and funding their successes meant that they had bargaining chips in collecting debts. Plus interest.

She almost smiled. Finally, a bit of intrigue.

**

Y/N took her seat under the canopy after dismissing her handmaidens and guards, telling them to treat themselves to a well-earned drink at a nearby inn as she noticed the incoming crowd of Dothraki, ‘escorted’ by a band of knights. She only let her eyes move to see Oberyn and Ellaria, the Dornish envoy, for a moment. Their reaction to her arrival had been just as unexpected as their presence. Dangerous. Dangerous.

This whole game was dangerous. And now the King in the North and the Dragon Queen had called for a temporary armistice for some strange reason.

“They tell me that the Westerlands have been flourishing.”

The voice at her side almost had her jumping. It was Tyrion, looking far more bristled than the last time she had seen him, when he had been carted away to the Black Cells. “Yes, well. Apparently I’m quite suited for the task.”

Tyrion’s answering smile was small and he nodded just once. “Yes, I suppose my father would have taught you well-”

“He had nothing to do with it.”

**

Casterly Rock was a delight to have to herself. Even the servants who would whisper her movements into her lord husband’s ear seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when each raven stated Tywin would be away from his seat of power for another fortnight and then another and another. When the Westerlands were being raided by Northmen, led by the adorably pugnacious King Robb Stark, she was happy to open the gates to allow some of the children and ladies of sworn houses to take shelter in the fortress and to give food and water to the knights and bannermen who made camp outside their walls before setting off toward battle.

She arranged marriages between houses and presided over small disagreements brought before her to settle. It reminded her of the time she spent with her dearest friend Bellegere at her famed pleasure house in Braavos and how Bellegere managed each and every bit of everything under her roof and made it all seem so effortless.

That was her kingdom.

And now Casterly Rock was Y/N’s, and she would let no one take it from her.

No one.

“You are happy, my lady,” one of her handmaidens said as they retired for the night. It had been two moons since Tywin had left her to play at war. “I have not seen you this happy since before we left Braavos.”

Y/N hummed and let her wipe the day’s dirt from her skin with a roll of silk dampened with cold cream. “I suppose I should start finding some sort of happiness, no?” She sighed. “Are you happy here?”

Her handmaidens nodded, varying degrees of smiles on their faces. “You know that we had no happiness in Braavos. You have given us hope, just as you have given these strange people hope, too.” They helped her into her sleeping gown and Y/N remembered the places she had plucked her handmaidens from. Cruel noble homes, cruel lowborn homes, temples with dark corners, merchant shops filled with bright tapestries, pleasure houses. Each of them found a new place beside Y/N. And she found friends with them, security and safety.

“We can find a home here,” Y/N whispered to each of them before bidding them goodnight. And she hoped it was true. She needed it to be true.

When the raven came, telling her to come to King’s Landing, she was hesitant to pack her trunks and arrange for the castellan to oversee the governance of Casterly Rock. But she had duties. And, despite knowing she was actively keeping herself from completing one of them, she knew she could not refuse Tywin Lannister. Especially after the Realm (or at least part of it) was hailing him as a hero for breaking the siege on King’s Landing and managing to gain the allegiance of the Reach—such a stupid name for a kingdom—for the Crown. So, she had her trunks packed with her fine gowns and made sure the guests she had allowed to stay in Casterly Rock would be looked after before having the traveling party readied for the trek across the continent. One of the knights, a man who reeked of strongwine and needed to trim his beard, spoke animatedly about the battles Tywin won across the Westerlands and Riverlands on behalf of his grandson, Joffrey. “For the betterment of the Realm,” the knight would finish each story. She doubted it. But she pretended to listen anyway. Y/N truly did not care to listen to the finite details or commit most of them to memory. What she did, however, notice was the distinct smell of piss and soured bread as soon as her wheelhouse and travelling party crested the hill just outside the city gates after several weeks of being confined to the wheelhouse or stuffy inn rooms.

“My lady,” one of her handmaiden’s muttered, “we are going to suffocate.”

Y/N patted her hand with a sigh before spilling a bit of perfume onto each of their kerchiefs to hold under their noses. “Perhaps they will have a garden where we can escape the stench.”

When they arrived at the Red Keep—and such an unimaginative name—she was almost pleased to see that most of the royal family and quite a few courtiers and servants had come to welcome them. Cersei, a face she knew well from the many portraits in the halls of Casterly Rock, only offered a quick sneer and an insincere, “welcome, Lady Lannister, to King’s Landing,” before she quickly left. Joffrey, the brat-boy-king if the whispers were true, looked suspiciously like his mother and also offered a sneer. Tommen was far kinder and offered to show her to her chambers but she declined, knowing that having a prince show her around like a servant would only gain her more ire from the queen dowager.

And then that left…

“Lady Stark,” Y/N said, stepping to the redhead’s side. Yes, she knew of Sansa Stark. The sad little Northern girl who saw her father’s head put on a spike—and apparently one of her brothers was one of the Five Kings running around causing amuck. How fun.

The younger girl curtseyed and murmured a soft hello. “I hope you find the capitol pleasing, my lady.”

She hummed and reached out to take Sansa’s and, wrapping it into the crook of her arm. “I doubt I will. But I shall like it if we were to become friends.”

Sansa’s blue eyes flittered across Y/N’s face and then to the small hoard of handmaidens behind her. “Whatever you wish, my lady.”

Weeks trickled by and Y/N found herself actually enjoying the company of the little wolf pup. She detested the Lannisters and had a quick but sweet wit when she was not in the company of Cersei or Joffrey who seemed to terrify her to no end. Y/N found it funny that Cersei assumed she would report anything and everything Sansa did while in her company. “What would you have her do other than enjoy a bit of tea and some lemon cakes? It is not as if you have given her duties beyond looking pretty.” Her handmaidens even told her that Cersei requested they report back anything they heard Sansa say.

“The poor girl,” they mused. “She is alone here.”

“Yes,” Y/N agreed, “and so are we.” And they were. They were still whispered about by servants and courtiers alike, their movements watched like a mummers’ performance and then hissed into the queen or the new Hand of the King’s ears. The only time they found themselves truly alone was when they were in the company of the Tyrells. Margaery and Olenna were gratuitous social climbers but at least they were smart and she did not feel the need to continue to play the dutiful Lady Lannister in their presence. They had no real love for the Lannisters aside from realizing that the golden lions were the true power in this stupid kingdom and knowing that they needed to at least have a few of them on their side. And Sansa seemed a little relaxed in their presence as well. After her betrothal to Joffrey was broken in favor of Margaery and the Tyrell gold, the young redhead was a tiny bit more…unclenched, especially after being pressed to detail the abuse she survived at the hands of the brat king. Y/N remembered gently wiping the tears away from Sansa’s cheeks after they left the Tyrells. Sansa had recounted her abuse at the hands of Joffrey and his mother. “It is over now, little pup. He shall not harm you again. I promise you that.”

Sansa only nodded and was still very guarded and it was smart to be so but Y/N was happy to see her smile a little more freely.

The smiles stopped when Tywin announced that Sansa was to wed Tyrion.

The girl cried and cried and cried. But only when they were alone and the lemon cakes she’d taken from the kitchen were only crumbs. Shae, Sansa’s handmaiden, always lingered after being dismissed. Y/N was sure she was another spy—but not for Cersei. But it did not matter. What mattered was the crying wolf pup in her arms.

“I can’t do it. I can’t,” Sansa cried, tears wetting Y/N’s dress.

Y/N could only shush her sobs, knowing that Tywin always had his due—well, almost always. “I will make sure you are safe, pup. I promise you that.”

**

Y/N stood, as she was expected to do, when Cersei entered the Dragon Pit and curtseyed as Cersei moved in front of her to take her own seat. The air was tense. Everyone was staring at each other, measuring threats with bated breath.

Y/N had been surprised to see Theon Greyjoy present—after all, it had been a Greyjoy fleet that had destroyed the ship that was carrying little Princess Myrcella back to the Red Keep from Sunspear. It had been a Greyjoy that had given the final push for Cersei to descend into her carefully curated madness. But, then again, Cersei had a Greyjoy of her own, too. Verbal volleys were made and Y/N might have enjoyed listening to the traded barbs but she continued to feel someone’s gaze on the side of her face.

She knew who was looking at her—it did not take any stretch of imagination or serious thought.

She knew.

And a dragon roared overhead.

**

“Take this, pup.” Y/N curled Sansa’s shaking fingers around the small bottle with an even smaller smile.

“What is it?” Sansa was beautiful in her golden wedding dress—beautiful and sad. Handmaidens had just finished twisting her hair into the ridiculous braids Cersei was so fond of and then scattered when Y/N and her flock of Braavosi women arrived. They had taken to dashing away when the Braavosi women arrived after Y/N had all but screamed at them when they would not let Sansa have a moment alone after news of the tactlessly named Red Wedding had reached King’s Landing. Her entire family—gone. Y/N would not see the little pup suffer for another moment.

It had earned her a busted lip and a sore wrist from her dear husband.

“It is a gift.” Y/N patted Sansa’s hand. “One drop will give you a night’s reprieve from your husband. The entire bottle will give your husband…a reprieve of his breath.”

Sansa turned and turned and turned the bottle in her hand. “Poison?”

“Yes, pup. And it is merely a precaution. I would not have you fear for your life in your marital bed.”

“Do you think Tyrion would hurt me?”

“He is the gentlest of his siblings, but it is never unwise to have a dagger up your sleeve.” Y/N stood and took Sansa’s hands in hers after watching her carefully tuck the bottle away into the folds of her dress. “Come, I am allowed to escort you to the Sept.”

**

“We’ve been here for some time,” Cersei said through gritted teeth.

“My apologies.”

Y/N almost snorted at the complete lack of care in the Dragon Queen’s tone as she addressed Cersei for the first time but held a finger under her nose, attempting to hide her smile instead. But Oberyn did openly laugh, only stopping when Ellaria placed a hand on his thigh. When Y/N looked at them, eyes drawn to the pair like a moth to the flame, their smiles grew.

The sound around her died to a low roar. Y/N knew she should be paying attention—the meeting had been called with the premise of saving the Realm—but all she could see was them.

**

“I am not some lowborn trollop, husband. I will not be seen in anything other than the color that denotes my station.” Y/N stared down at the garish red and gold dress that her husband’s servants had placed on the featherbed just a few moments ago.

“Your station is cemented as my wife—Lady Lannister. You will wear your house’s colors and you will never fight me on something so frivolous again.”

“Oh? And what am I allowed to fight you on?” She retorted, feeling her upper lip curl in a sneer. “If not my clothes, what else? You have decided every bit of my life since I have arrived. Am I not allowed one bit of my home?”

Tywin reached out and struck her across the face. Pain bloomed from her eye to her jaw, throbbing in time with her hammering heart. “You would do well to hold your tongue. I have had enough of listening to your ungrateful words. You are the Lady of Casterly Rock—not a sniveling brat. You will wear this gown and I will not hear another word of it. Am I understood?”

Y/N only nodded, hand cradling her cheek and then Tywin swept from the room.

Silence washed over her like a wave in the big room. She stared down at the red dress. Gold lace lined the sleeves and there was even more of the gaudy lace around the neck—it would probably reach just below her chin.

It was a collar. Soft and expensive. But a collar, she realized.

“My lady?” She turned to see one of her handmaidens stepping in, a frazzled look on her face. “Are you ready for us to help you prepare for the wedding?” The girl’s eyes searched her face as if knowing something was wrong. “My lady?” She asked again when Y/N did not answer.

Y/N sucked in a breath and nodded. “Yes. And I believe we are running late.” She removed her dressing gown and let them start to tie her into the hideous gown. It itched. It did not move like the soft silks of Braavos. It was stiff and uncomfortable. It felt like a cage.

Perhaps that is what it was—a cage and a collar.

But she said nothing as she met Tywin outside his chambers and allowed him to grasp her hand and tuck it into the crux of his arm as he escorted her to the Sept. She said nothing as she took her place in the crowd. She said nothing as the stupid vows were exchanged and Joffrey named Margaery as his queen. She said nothing as she was led out to the grounds for the wedding feast. But she plotted. And her cheek throbbed.

She was seated on the raised dais at Tywin’s side but found herself slightly and strangely comforted by the fact that Sansa was within eyesight. When Tywin left her side to speak with someone—and she truly wasn’t listening nor cared who it was—Y/N quickly stood and walked to Sansa’s side, taking Tyrion’s vacated seat.

“How are you, pup?”

Sansa almost smiled. “Alive.”

“And that is half the battle, no?” She reached out and touched the girl’s hands. “Has he been kind?” Her head tilted just so to indicate Tyrion.

Sansa nodded. “I have no use of your gift yet.” They both sighed and looked out over the crowd. “Weddings are supposed to be happy occasions.”

“Yes, I suppose they are. But we have yet to attend one that is capable of making us smile.” She sighed again and looked back at Sansa, eyes catching the pretty, purple necklace around her throat. The jewels glinted…

“Careful with those, my love,” her mother chided as she pulled the little vials from her daughter’s childish fingers.

“What are they, Mama?”

“It was a gift,” Sansa said, providing an answer for the unasked question.

“From whom?”

“Lord Baelish.”

Y/N hummed and twisted one of the jewels between her fingers before letting it drop back against Sansa’s throat.

**

Y/N listened to Jon Snow blather on about saving the Realm, about how an army who doesn’t leave corpses was coming and could not be bargained with. Cersei had a few quips of her own and Y/N pondered if she truly needed to have shut herself into a wheelhouse for weeks to travel here just to listen to Cersei complain and foreign monarchs hardly disguise their contempt. But then Sandor Clegane emerged from the underground tunnel with a large crate on his back and the Dragon Pit grew quiet.

He set it down and…nothing happened, even as he removed the lid.

But then he circled back and kicked it over. With a scream, a creature emerged and ran at Cersei. Bone and dried skin and glowing blue eyes. That was all it was.

That and the terrifying scream.

**

“You look exquisite, child,” Lady Olenna said as she approached Sansa. “The wind has bit at you though.” Olenna glanced at Y/N in acknowledgement, bowing her head just a fraction before focusing on Sansa again, tugging at the ends of her pretty red hair. “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother. War is war, but killing a man at a wedding? Horrid. What sort of monster would do such a thing?” An aged finger traced against Sansa’s cheek. “As if men need more reasons to fear marriage.”

Y/N snorted into her chalice of wine and earned a wink from Olenna over Sansa’s head. But it was the next movement that truly caught Y/N’s attention. Olenna fiddled with Sansa’s necklace before inviting her and Tyrion to Highgarden just as the lion in question approached. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it is time to enjoy this food I paid for.”

Y/N pulled Sansa back into conversation as Olenna departed and noted that one of the strange little gems was now missing from the necklace. What was Olenna planning? Whatever it was, it was sure to be more entertaining than the pretention of this wedding feast. She stood and had Sansa do the same. “Come, pup. It is time we acted like Lannisters, no?” She linked their arms together and led them toward the obnoxiously decorated grounds filled with more food and entertainment.

They both found little enjoyment in the contortionists or the musicians who insisted on playing and replaying The Rains of Castamere on a variety of instruments. But the food was mostly seasoned well.

“Tyrion tells me that a Dornish Prince is in attendance. He’s traveled all over Essos, perhaps he has been to Braavos?” Sansa asked as Y/N found her some lemon cakes and they sequestered themselves away in a dark corner while Y/N sipped on a bit of sweet wine.

“Oh? It would be nice to hear of my home from someone who knows it.” She almost smiled. “I must take you across the Narrow Sea, introduce you to my home. And maybe I can know Winterfell, too.”

Sansa’s smile was small but genuine. “I would like that.”

“But tell me, what is this prince’s name? Perhaps I’ve met him when my lord husband was parading around.”

Sansa wiped the crumbs from her face. “Prince Oberyn Martell.”

**

Jon Snow was a bigger idiot than Sansa had ever said he was in her missives. Openly proclaiming that he had sworn the North and bent the knee to the Dragon Queen while trying to broker a tentative agreement with an unstable lion was very, very stupid. He could have, should have lied and just agreed to the terms Cersei had laid out, keeping her in the dark about his true allegiance.

But no.

Apparently he had more Stark in him than sense.

Everyone had separated after Cersei had stormed away and Y/N found herself walking toward one of the few places she hadn’t seen anyone retreat to but then-

“Mama!”

Y/N turned and caught the child that had leapt into the air, knowing his mother would catch him.

A soft murmur of her name had her freezing.

**

He looked so similar. Barely anything had changed since the last time she had seen him, all too briefly nearly a decade ago. The same self-assured gait. The same sparkle in his eyes. The same charming half-smile that had her mirroring the expression without a thought.

“Hello, little Titan.”

And with the next breath she was younger, visiting her friend Bellegere on her mother’s fine barge, evading her duties for the day. “You are not who I was expecting,” came a voice behind her.

Y/N turned and arched a brow at the young man looking in the doorway. “Nor was I expecting you.” He was either lost or an esteemed guest if he had found his way to Bellegere’s private rooms. With his fine clothes and self-assured smile, Y/N wagered he was the latter. “Who are you?”

He introduced himself with a growing smile and kissed her on the back of the hand before turning her hand over and pressing another kiss to her palm. And the first time in months, Y/N giggled.

The prince was eventually greeted by Bellegere’s mother and he was just as flirtatious with her but did not seem too preoccupied with bedding the famous courtesan as many of her other clients had been lately. In between meetings with the captains of the Second Sons mercenary company, Oberyn was found frequently upon the barge—and Y/N always found herself invited, too. Whether it was by Bellegere or Oberyn, they always seemed eager to pull her away from her duties again and again.

Bellegere had been calm, as she always was with her mother’s clients (Bellegere knew she would one day be the Black Pearl of Braavos and took her training very seriously), but Y/N saw how the Dornish prince had her smiling into her hand after whispering something into her ear, a far cry from the demure tilting of her lips her clients usually coaxed from her while buying her attention and company.

Anyone who could make Bellegere, with all her practiced manners and carefully curated gestures, smile like that was truly a force to be reckoned with. But even when he was on Bellegere’s arm, he took care to include Y/N in their conversations, wanting her opinion. “I like the sound of your voice, little Titan.”

And that wretched, silly nickname. While he called Bellegere by her name, or “my Pearl,” he called Y/N his “little Titan,” a play on how Braavos was known for the hulking statue of a titan at its gates. She was not sure if she loved it or loathed it.

“Have you two been introduced?” Sansa’s question pulled Y/N from her reverie.

“Yes,” Oberyn answered for her with a wink. “We met years ago in Braavos.” It was an understatement. Every time the Second Sons were within a handful of leagues of Braavos, Oberyn made it a point to visit Y/N and Bellegere. There was nothing overtly carnal within their relationship. In fact, they all seemed to be closer friends than anything else. Bellegere was free to be herself in his presence and Y/N was, too. Oberyn was always happy to be their escort around the city and pay for their attentions as if he were any other client, but largely they spent their time laughing and speaking of the world beyond Braavos. He disappeared a few years later only to return to Braavos, older and angrier, to meet with Illyrio Mopatis on business he could not discuss with them. But he had been just as kind with them as he always had been—always a dutiful friend. The last time she had seen him, he had whispered about the death of his sister and her babies, of how she was cruelly killed while trying to protect her children.

It would not be until Y/N reached King’s Landing that she learned that it was believed that Tywin gave the order for his loyal dog, Gregor Clegane, to kill the Princess and her babes.

If Y/N had known that, she would have taken Bellegere’s offer of working on her barge instead of allowing her father to barter her away to Tywin. She never would have betrayed Oberyn like that if she had known. Truly.

But it was too late.

Y/N noticed the beautiful woman at Oberyn side. Surely there were songs sung about her gentle eyes. “But I have not met your lovely companion, my prince.”

Oberyn’s smile widened and he took the woman’s hand and pulled her forward just a bit, obviously filled with pride to have her at his side. “This is Ellaria Sand, my paramour.”

Ellaria curtseyed, “my lady.”

Y/N returned the gesture. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Ellaria.”

The woman glanced at Oberyn with a smile. “It seems you are one of the few who share that sentiment.”

Y/N waved it away. “The Westerosi have strange conceptions of honor and status.” She made sure to pat Sansa’s hand. “But there are a few who make it bearable.”

But then a noise drew all of their attention. It started with Queen Margaery screaming, “he’s choking!”

Joffrey heaved with stuttering breaths before collapsing. And the pieces were falling into place.

“You idiots! Help your king!” Olenna shouted. She was a good actress.

Movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention and she watched a poorly dressed fool grab at Sansa’s arm and try to lead her away. Without moving her head, Y/N reached out and snatched Sansa’s hand. “Stay, pup. You know not what you do.”

Sansa’s blue eyes flittered between the Fool and the Lion on her arm and then pulled out of the man’s grip.

Satisfied, Y/N turned to watch Cersei scream and scream and scream as her firstborn turned purple in her arms and Tyrion was carted away by a pair of white cloaks. What a pretty painting that would be. She took another sip of wine.

**

“It is almost as if you were avoiding me, Little Titan.” He still smiled as if no time had passed since their last meeting. But the easy expression faded as he looked down to the small boy in her hold.

Slowly, Y/N set her son down and brushed a bit of dirt from his cherubic cheek. “This is my son, Morgan Lannister.”

Oberyn’s hand shook as he reached out a hand toward the dark haired boy. “Pleased to meet you, little lord.”

Morgan smiled up at Oberyn, bright-eyed, as Oberyn’s finger traced over his brow. “You are Prince Oberyn Nymeros Martell! Mama tells me stories about you—about your adventures across the Narrow Sea. And how you slew a mountain!”

“The Mountain, my dear boy,” his mother gently corrected.

“Hardly appropriate bedtime stories,” Ellaria chuckled.

“He likes to know when the hero prevails.”

**

Little Tommen looked so small when he sat on the throne. He was so…kind. So little. That stupid chair was too rough for his gentle soul. But she clapped when he was proclaimed king and smiled when his bright eyes caught hers, a nervous smile on his lips.

“He will be a fair king,” she heard someone whisper as the clapping and cheering continued. “Kind.”

He would be ruled by Tywin. Y/N knew it to be true. The young king was far easier to manipulate—and perhaps Olenna was anticipating that detail, too. Hm. Olenna versus Tywin in a battle of wills. That would be interesting to watch.

“You are contemplative, Little Titan.”

Y/N smiled at the sound of Oberyn’s voice whispering in her ear. They had frequently sought out each other’s company for the last handful of days, meeting in the sunny gardens to reminisce about their time together in Braavos and learning of their adventures during their time apart. Ellaria had proven to be a true, steadfast friend and Y/N was grateful to know her and hear her stories of her childhood at Hellholt in Dorne. And she wanted to hear what Oberyn thought of this newest pretentious display of power but her eyes darted to see Maester Pycelle and Lord Varys far too close for her liking. While she could rely on knowing where the various servants and Westerosi handmaidens to always whisper the ludicrous stories she had concocted into Tywin and Cersei’s ears, she was not sure how to handle the two men who were arguably more intelligent. “We have a new king,” was all she said. “Long may he reign.”

Oberyn’s nose wrinkled for a moment, confused by her response, but nodded as he noticed Pycelle glance in their direction. “Yes, long may he reign.”

She wanted so badly to simply speak with him. She was alone in the capital. Tywin had dismissed her handmaidens and sent them back to Casterly Rock, replacing them with women from the Westerlands who had once been Princess Myrcella’s maids. He was making sure she was alone. Y/N rolled her shoulders as she watched Tywin approach her. He held out his hand for her to take and she dutifully placed her hand in his, letting him guide her up the small set up steps and dais toward the ugly throne. Tommen’s face broke into a smile as she approached and curtseyed. “Lady Lannister.”

“Your Grace,” she replied. “May the Seven bless your reign,” she repeated the words she had heard droned over and over, knowing the little king found comfort in them even if she thought it ridiculous.

“Thank you, my lady.”

Tywin squeezed her arm and she bit back a wince as he led her away. His grip only tightened the further away they were from the mass of celebrators and they only slowed to a stop for a moment, in a dark corner of the hall for him to hiss in her ear, “you will retire to your chambers, immediately.”

Over his shoulder, Y/N spotted Oberyn slipping into the hall, his dark eyes narrowed at the scene. “Of course, my lord.”

But his grip only tightened. “I will not have you making a spectacle of yourself and my house’s name.” Tywin’s long fingers finally pulled away from her skin and he signaled for two white cloaks to flank her on each side. “Make sure she is waiting for me. Do not let her leave the Tower of the Hand until I have come for her. Am I understood?”

Y/N could only gape at her husband as two pairs of unfamiliar, armored hands grasped at her arms and started to pull her away.

And when she was all but shoved into her chambers in the cold tower, Y/N knew she would be facing the old lion’s wrath.

Time trickled by slowly. The tower she had been told to call home was quiet. No servants. No handmaidens (she would not be surprised if they had been told to vacate that morning). No lower-ranking Lannisters begging for a bit of attention.

She was alone.

And she waited.

A glance outside her chamber’s window let her know that the two guards were still standing sentinel at the entry to the tower. Maybe she had become a character from one of those songs children were so fond of—a princess in a tower, waiting for a knight to rescue her.

But she was not a princess.

She was a daughter of Braavos. And she was tired of waiting for something to happen to her, for continuing to allow things to happen. She was going to make it happen.

**

“My lady, I am so sorry,” an out of breath handmaiden sprinted to her side and looked down at the little lord. “He ran off when I turned for just a moment.”

Y/N looked down at Morgan who offered a guilty smile. “I missed you, mama.”

“I was only gone for a moment, little one,” Y/N murmured before pressing a kiss to his cheek and winking at the handmaiden, letting her know there was no harm done. Her son was hard to contain on the best of days. “We have talked about being patient, no? I will never leave you alone for long.”

“But Septon Martyn said you were…umm…” his little face scrunched up, searching for words. “I forget.”

“That’s okay, little one. You’ll remember later.”

“But did you see a dragon?” He nearly screeched, dark eyes lighting up.

“I did. And it was beautiful.” She bent and set him back on his little feet. “But you have to promise mama something, yes? You have to stay with Septon Martyn and Tyanna until I am finished.”

Morgan’s bottom lip jutted out and his gaze moved to Oberyn who was looking down at him with an intense fondness that made her sigh. And Ellaria was at his side, a gentle and curious affection in her gaze. “But what if I want to stay with Prince Oberyn?”

**

Y/N knew to protect her head even before she passed the first stone step. Down, down, down she fell, limbs smacking against the stairs and bannisters until she came to an abrupt stop on the cold ground. The ceiling swam as she finally opened her eyes.

Within a handful of pained breaths, blood coating her teeth and tongue, she watched Tywin loom over her. He had leisurely walked down the winding stairs, uncaring of how he had tried to kill her just moments ago. But perhaps he knew she would survive. This was simply a warning.

“You are a disgrace. You are my wife. I will not be made a fool of any longer. You will not be seen dallying with some Dornish tart prince or his whore. You will not cavort around as if you truly belong here. You do not. You have not earned your place yet.”

“What do you want?” She asked, tongue heavy in her mouth and blood coating her throat. “What do you want?”

“What was promised to me. I do not know what potion you’ve conjured or trick you have conceived, but I will be given an heir. Or I will have your head on a pike.” His thin lips curled into a sneer, the closest she had ever seen to him smile, before he stepped over her crumpled form and out into the sunlight.

And she let herself wallow for just a moment, only until the ceiling stopped spinning and then she rolled onto her side with a wince and grunted as she pushed herself up onto unsteady feet.

“If you want an heir, I’ll produce an heir.” The vow was snarled into the quiet air of the tower.

**

Y/N watched little Morgan toddle away, his hand firmly clasped in the handmaiden’s, babbling excitedly about dragons and princes. And then her eyes once again found Oberyn and Ellaria, both also watching the little lord walk away.

“He looks like you,” Ellaria said with a smile.

“Yes. A small blessing, I suppose.” She watched Oberyn’s smile widen and he unsuccessfully hid it behind his hand.

A sudden movement caught their gaze and they realized that Cersei had come back, apparently ready to parley with the Dragon Queen.

**

A cold cloth was pressed to the swelling of her cheek.

“How cruel, to hurt someone so beautiful.”

The scent of the pleasure house was almost comforting; filled with expensive perfumes and burning incense, it was a welcome reprieve from the stench of the city. But all Y/N truly cared about was how soft Ellaria’s touch was and how gentle the other woman was, even after Y/N had bodily climbed in through the window of their room and collapsed onto the floor.

In a strange stroke of luck, the pair had not been entertaining themselves with another person’s (or multiple people) talents and time. And perhaps she truly did look worse for wear if the pained looks and surprised noises they let out when she lifted her head were any indication.

Ellaria had quickly called for a servant to bring what she needed as Oberyn easily hid Y/N’s crumpled form in their warm bed from any prying eyes.

“I am sorry…” Y/N said, “I am so sorry.”

“Whatever for?” Oberyn asked as he took a seat beside her. Gentle fingers pressed at broken skin at her hairline and he frowned. “You escaped your gilded cage and sought safety with us—there is nothing to apologize for in this instance, Little Titan. You have trusted us. There is no higher honor.”

Ellaria hummed her agreement and continued to clean the cuts and calm the swelling around her face. “But how you managed to evade all those gold and white cloaks is surely a tale to tell.”

Y/N smiled but regretted it when pain bloomed across her entire face and Ellaria tutted as a bit of blood bubbled from a scab. “I do doubt it is anything worthy of repeating. Just a bit of Sweetsleep in some wine and hoping for the best.”

“It took you five days to think of Sweetsleep?” Oberyn teased but there was still a clear undertone of concern in his voice that made her heart clench. They cared.

She had a plan, true. And if they agreed vengeance could belong to all of them. Tywin had taken enough from them. “It took me five days to muster the courage to come to you.”

The simple sentence took the air from the room. Ellaria’s gentle touch paused and Oberyn grasped her hands, careful of the injuries. “Tell us, Little Titan. Tell us what you need.”

Y/N looked to Ellaria first and then Oberyn. “It is my lord-husband.”

“I knew it,” Oberyn said, looking to Ellaria who nodded. “I knew he would. He destroys everything he touches. Everything.”

“And I need to let him think he has—just for a few moons longer.”

“Why? Why wait? I can kill him now and be done with it-”

“I want to kill him,” Y/N said, voice steady. “But I want to take away everything he has created. Everything he has worked for, killed for. I want it all. And you are the only ones who would be able to truly take it from him, the only ones I trust.”

Ellaria and Oberyn looked at each other again before turning back to her. “What is your plan, Little Titan?”

**

She knew Cersei was lying when she said that she would send the Crown’s forces to aid in the fight against the Night King. But it seemed Jon and Daenerys would take her at her word.

Stupid mistake.

As the small crowd dispersed and Y/N continued to play the dutiful peon with a final curtsey, her mind churned. While Cersei had most of the Westerland armies at the capital, some had been allowed to keep to their posts in their homeland. They were Y/N’s to command. And she knew they would listen.

She would not stay in the capital. She did not care if Cersei had expected her to stay. She did not care if the polite thing would be to at least graciously decline the rooms probably readied for her presence.

She did not care.

Her son was in the city. And a war was coming.

The Dragon Queen and Jon Snow were trustworthy. Y/N did not care if the wrath of Cersei was turned on her after this—she could handle Cersei, if needed. But the Realm needed Dragons if they wanted to survive. Daenerys seemed much more reasonable and willing to listen than Cersei ever did so she would not mind if the petite Valyrian sat on the Iron Throne after the dead were dealt with. But that came first.

The small entourage Y/N had arrived with was waiting dutifully by her wheelhouse, also tired of the city, it seemed.

“My lady,” A soft voice said, gaining her attention.

Y/N turned to see Ellaria waiting patiently just outside the Dragon Pit. “Yes?” She took a moment to glance around and see that they were largely alone. Everyone was too preoccupied with their own retreat to pay them any mind.

“We must speak with you.”

Y/N gave one last look to her son, watching him laugh so easily at something a handmaiden whispered into his ear. For now, he was safe.

Y/N turned and linked her arm through Ellaria’s, once again finding an easy comfort in the other woman’s warmth. “I am all yours for a few moments, my lady.”

**

“Lady Lannister, what a sight you are!”

Y/N bit back the snarl at Maester Pycelle’s exclamation. Despite tending to her bruising, swelling and broken skin for nearly a fortnight, she still looked a fright. She knew it. But it was another thing for an old man in tattered rags to announce it so loudly.

“It is nothing. A servant spilled a bit of wine near the stairs and I did not see it. A careless mistake.”

Pycelle nodded. “Yes. Careless. But you should thank the Seven that you are still able to fulfill your earthly, wifely duties.”

Y/N felt her hands curl into fists and tucked them behind her back, ignoring the ache the movement caused. “Yes. Duties.”

Tyrion’s trial had finally started and Y/N was expected to attend. She retrieved Sansa from her locked chambers—a stark contrast from the Black Cells where Tyrion was kept—and had escorted her to the Great Hall, half a dozen kingsguard surrounding them. She had only a moment alone with Sansa in her chambers before she knew she would draw suspicion from the guards waiting outside the door. “You will need to lie, pup.”

“But-”

Y/N grasped Sansa’s chin in a loose grip but her eyes were hard. “You will lie, Sansa. Your life depends on it. I can only keep you safe if you do.”

“What would you have me say?”

“That you knew of Tyrion’s hatred of his nephew but you did not think he would go so far as to poison him.”

Sansa’s blue eyes watered but she nodded. “I can do that.”

“Good, pup. Then you shall be just fine.”

The entire Great Hall was packed with spectators and she took a seat toward the front, near the dais as Margaery’s side, and Sansa had been relegated toward the back, being treated like another accused instead of a witness. The whole thing smacked of Cersei’s bias.

But Y/N held her tongue, watching as Tyrion was escorted into the hall in heavy chains, and stood as Tommen did, following the rest of the crowd. Tywin briefly looked at her, a smug look on his face as he saw the black and red gown she wore—the stupid garment had been the only garment in her chambers that morning. He was not subtle.

“I, Tommen of the House Baratheon, first of my name, King of the Andals, First Men, and Rhyonar, lord of the Seven Kingdoms, hereby recuse myself from this trial. Tywin of the House Lannister, Hand of the King, protector of the realm, will serve as judge in my stead. With him, Prince Oberyn of the House Martell, and Lord Mace of the House Tyrell. If found guilty, may the gods punish the accused.”

As Oberyn moved to take his seat, he caught her eye for just a moment—and that look was all she needed to remember to breathe.

As person after person provided “evidence” against Tyrion, Y/N started to wonder if she would ever be able to leave this stupid hall. There was a slight reprieve in her sheer boredom when Sansa was called forward and she gave testimony that Tyrion did not care for Joffrey but she could not be sure if he truly poisoned his nephew. Her blue eyes glanced toward Y/N for her final words, “but I would not be so bold as to completely clear him of guilt or conspiracy.”

And that proved enough for Tywin to dismiss the little pup and let her retake her seat—without the small troupe of guards surrounding her. Sansa had been deemed innocent.

But this farce of trial was far from over. It continued on and on—and even included an appearance from Shae, who was apparently Tyrion’s lover. How quaint. Oberyn easily saw right through her lies and made nearly everyone present squirm with a double entendre. Y/N hid her smile behind her hand and ignored the blood bursting from her healing lip.

But the joy was short lived when Tyrion exclaimed, “I demand a trial by combat.”

**

Oberyn was waiting in a dark hollow of the dragon pit’s crumbling walls and drew both Ellaria and Y/N into his arms. He kissed Ellaria slowly and then pressed his warm lips against Y/N’s pulse. It sent familiar shivers down her spine.

“You are planning something, Little Titan.”

“As are you, my prince.”

Ellaria sighed. “You two are impossible.”

Y/N ducked her head with a smile. “A fair assessment, my lady, but I do not think you would enjoy us half as much if we were not constantly scheming.”

“You know the lioness will not honor her word,” Oberyn cut in quickly. His grip tightened around them.

“Of course not. She will wait for the Night King to both wipe out her enemies and then try to fight him herself, or attack after the battle is won and their numbers are depleted.” While Cersei thought herself Tywin’s true heir in manners of warfare and plotting, the only true manner she had inherited from her father was her inability to forget a slight. “I will not stand by and wait for the dead to reach Casterly Rock. Not while my son is…” the words died on her tongue.

But Ellaria grasped her hand and squeezed it tight. “You have something to fight for. We all do.”

“Dorne will fight beside you. We will fight for the living.”

**

“It is for luck,” Y/N said with a small smile. “Even the bravest in Braavos drink it. I have not seen a single man who drank this fall to his opponent.”

“I do not need to drink your potion to kill the Dornishman.” Of course, Ser Gregor Clegane would say something like that. His reputation and his (stupid) moniker of The Mountain might have been well earned but that did not mean Y/N any higher of him. In fact, his inability to think for himself when Tywin gave an order only made him smaller in her eyes.

Easy prey.

But that did not mean she would let Oberyn handle him on his own.

Y/N raised the cup a little higher, pressing a worried expression to her face. “It is more for my nerves, my lord, I assure you. I have heard of your prowess even across the Narrow Sea. But please,” she reached out to place a hand on his arm, a pretty picture of genteel worry, “calm my heart.”

Gregor nearly sneered as he took the cup and drained it in one gulp. “For you, Lady Lannister.”

Y/N reached out to take the cup back with a quick dip of her chin and another smile. “I thank you, Ser Gregor.”

She handed it off to a handmaiden and then let herself be escorted to her seat under the canopy, sitting aside her husband. She watched Oberyn and Ellaria speak to Tyrion under their own canopy, happily drinking wine and eating berries. The confidence they had in Oberyn was palpable—and for good reason. But Y/N never did like to watch an even match.

It was too boring.

Pycelle prattled on about how the gods would decide the fate of the trial by combat and soon the two men were engaged in battle.

Oberyn delighted in each blow and catch of his spear into the Mountain’s hulking form and made sure Gregor knew who his opponent was. “I am the brother of Elia Martell. Do you know why I have come all the way to this stinking shit-pile of a city? For you.” Another catch and parry. “I'm going to hear you confess before you die. You raped my sister. You murdered her. You killed her children. Say it now and we can make this quick.” Another clash of blades. “Say it. You raped her. You murdered her. You killed her children.” Y/N watched Clegane stumble, nearly fall to his knees, as Oberyn landed a kick to his hulking form.

“You murdered her! You killed her children!” Each word out of Oberyn’s mouth grew louder and louder.

Even over the din of the crowd starting to roar, Y/N heard Gregor’s shuddering breath as he struggled to his feet and his grip seemed to loosen on his broadsword.

Oberyn sank the end of his spear into Gregor’s side and quickly gave another, dodging a loose-gripped swipe of The Mountain’s sword at his neck. He stepped back only to watch the giant of a man stumble with a smirk. Oberyn charged at the Mountain to give him one final blow. Blood spurted out of Gregor’s mouth as Oberyn pulled his spear back.

The earth itself seemed to rumble as Gregor finally fell to his knees.

“Wait. Are you dying? No, no, no. You can't die yet,” Oberyn mocked. “You haven't confessed. Say it. Say her name. Elia Martell. You raped her. You killed her children. Elia Martell. Who gave you the order? Who gave you the order?!” Oberyn lifted a hand and pointed toward Tywin.

And for the millionth time since Oberyn had arrived in the city, Y/N had to hide a smile.

“Say her name! You raped her! You murdered her! You killed her children. Say it. Say her name. Say it!”

Y/N did not move her gaze from the ring, uncaring of Tywin’s reaction. She would remember how the crowds gasped and started to murmur. In a single moment, the rumor that had almost been forgotten had been reignited. She was not surprised to learn that Oberyn had declared himself Tyrion’s champion when Gregor was called in for the crown.

And she wanted to make sure Oberyn was given at least a small bit of justice.

But Gregor could not answer. He fell forward, more blood pouring from his mouth, arms shaking to keep him from completely collapsing.

“Tell me!” Oberyn roared. “Tell me!” He leaned down to listen to something The Mountain said, whispered only for him to hear. But when he stood, Oberyn swung his spear and buried it into the Mountain’s head.

**

Y/N, Ellaria, and Oberyn plotted to move their loyal forces for only a little longer, keeping both the Dragon Queen and Crazed Lioness from overhearing. But soon-

“Mama! Mama!” And for the second time that day, Y/N was nearly leveled by her son throwing himself at her legs.

“We must work on your patience, my love. I was nearly finished.” She hauled the squirming boy into her arms and kissed his cheek. “We shall have supper at the inn but the hill when I am finished, hm? They have that pie you like.”

Morgan happily nodded and squirmed again, wanting to be let down. As his little feet hit the broken stone, he turned to look up at Oberyn and Ellaria, smiling wide. “Hello again, Prince Oberyn!”

Oberyn smiled and leaned down to Morgan’s level before gesturing to Ellaria who smiled fondly down at him. “This is Ellaria Sand, the love of my life.”

Morgan’s little hand reached out to Ellaria and he pressed a quick peck to her fingers, much to her delight. “My lady.” His following bow only continued to earn giggles.

Y/N watched Oberyn as he observed the little scene. His face was serene yet sad. And she knew why.

“You have a viper’s eyes, little lord.”

Morgan preened at the compliment despite not knowing what it meant. “Thank you, Prince Oberyn!”

**

King’s Landing was a powder keg.

After ‘the gods’ deemed Tyrion innocent, he fled in the night. But Cersei continued to rage and rage and rage, still offering a hefty sum for Tyrion’s head on a platter. Tommen and Margaery were married in another lavish ceremony and the Tyrells continued to press their influence over their city and the new king, only pushing Cersei further toward the edge. Tywin would hold daily meetings with the Small Council and with Lady Olenna, trying to keep the precarious balance of power decidedly in his favor.

And all that distraction proved very fortuitous for Y/N.

“Oh please, please,” she gasped as Oberyn continued to move.

Ellaria chuckled above her before moving Y/N’s mouth back to between her thighs. Y/N had always been very talented with her tongue. It was something Ellaria was happy to learn.

“Patience,” Oberyn said in a breathy huff. “You are always so greedy.”

But Y/N simply buried herself further into the soft patch of curls between Ellaria’s thighs as Oberyn canted his hips just slightly, letting her feel him nearly in her stomach.

They had done this every day—and almost every night—as Tywin was distracted.

Oberyn’s warm, calloused hands curled over Y/N’s thighs, anchoring them around his waist as his pace grew faster and faster. And Ellaria sighed, holding Y/N’s head still as she found her high and coated Y/N’s lips with her release—sticky and sweet.

“Are you nearly done, my love?” Ellaria’s voice was raspy and she did not move from her seat on Y/N’’s mouth, even as she shook with overstimulation. Y/N was greedy—Oberyn had rightly branded her so. And Ellaria tasted so good. “You do have a meeting to attend.”

Oberyn huffed but his pace did increase and the coil in Y/N’s belly wounded tighter and tighter, for the third time that morning, and then finally snapped as Oberyn groaned before leaning forward to press a kiss to Ellaria’s kiss-slick lips. Warmth bloomed and Y/N shook.

Yes. King’s Landing was a powder keg. But it was delicious.

And when Y/N passed the Small Council chamber later that morning she nearly snorted as she heard Tywin say, “You look tired, Prince Oberyn.”

And Oberyn, ever the viper, responded, “yes, my lover and I are trying for another child. I have heard you are trying for another heir, too, no?”

When the next morning came and Tywin left her bed, let him be for a moment before readying herself for the day. She slipped into his chambers and put on her dutiful-wife mask, one she had worn so well for the past handful of moons.

“I will be speaking with the Maesters this morning.”

“Oh?” Tywin responded, buttoning his tunic.

“Yes, I have been feeling poorly and I have missed my last moon blood. I am hoping I will have good news for you soon.”

Tywin was quiet for a moment before he hummed. It almost sounded happy. “You will tell me immediately what they say. Do you understand?”

“Of course, my lord.” She pulled his Hand of the King pin from atop one of his trunks and handed it to him. “I would have Sansa as a ward. King’s Landing has only made her a scared little thing—she will cow in front of the Northmen she’s supposed to rally to your grandson’s cause.”

“And you believe you may shape her into something-”

“Someone who will command respect and is loyal, my lion. Your daughter, for all her charms, was not suited to mold someone as gentle as Sansa. Her children were born with a steel core. Little Sansa needs a gentle, shaping hand.” Y/N slipped her arms around Tywin’s shoulders as he adjusted the pin over his heart. “I know you have an allegiance with Lord Bolton who you have named the Warden of the North in the Starks’ absence. The Northmen’s loyalty to them is tenuous at best. I know you strive for peace. If you could arrange for Sansa and the Boltons to find common ground, I know it would give you a small bit of reprieve to know you no longer had to worry about the North revolting. Again.”

Tywin froze—just for a moment. “Perhaps you aren’t as useless as I had been beginning to suspect.”

Y/N only smiled.

And after having the Maesters confirm that she was with child, she knew Tywin would come to her bed chamber again. She offered him a cup of wine in celebration and watched him drain it as he smirked. And she let him undo the laces of her dress. She let him pull her chemise over her head. She let him press her down into the pillows.

And then he paused. His eyes screwed shut with a pained groan. Tywin fell to the side and Y/N happily climbed over him.

“What…have you done?”

Y/N felt the slash of a smile grow across her face. “I have taken everything from you.” Her hands folded over her stomach. “You have only moments to live. But life grows within me. And your line has ended.” She watched the light fade from his eyes before forcing tears into her own. She let a few trickle down her cheeks for maximum effect before climbing off her husband’s lap and pulling on a dressing robe before dashing to the door and flinging it open. “My husband, please! Please someone help my husband!”

**

“Does he know?” Oberyn asked quietly as he helped Y/N lift little Morgan into the carriage. The child had fallen asleep at the table, nearly tipping over his prized pie. A day full of excitement had worn him out. He had caught a single glimpse of a dragon as their traveling party departed the city and had animatedly recounted the story to anyone and everyone who would listen. Oberyn and Ellaria had quietly followed.

“He knows his father is a brave, strong man. Who is loyal to his word, devoted to his family, and a hero for the ages.”

“Does he believe it is Tywin?” Oberyn asked, his fingers brushing the dark hair away from his son’s forehead.

“I believe he is smart enough to understand it is not.” She paused. “He is heir to the Lannister seat of power. He will hold everything Tywin worked so hard to build and protect. But the Lannister bloodline has ended. Yours will continue—yours will hold his seat of power until the gods deem this world finished. House Lannister is now your blood—your son.”

“But will he know the truth? Will he ever know me as his father?”

“Of course,” she said with a small smile. “When the time is right, and I know he can keep this secret, he will know your name as his true father. He will know you, love you.”

“And you? What of you?”

“What of me?” She repeated. “What would you need of me?”

Oberyn and Ellaria locked eyes for a moment before their penetrating gazes moved back to her. “We will want you as well.”

“Me?”

“We will always want you.”

Y/N sucked in a breath, trembling for the first time in decades. “Will you ever forgive me?”

**

Gone were the washes of gaudy crimson fabric and she was once again permitted to drape herself in black. She was a widow now. Perhaps that suited her. And now that Tywin was dead, she saw no reason to stay in King’s Landing. Tywin, before his tragic death of a bad heart, had announced to the court that Y/N was with child. It had only cemented her status as the true ruler of Casterly Rock.

Before she departed, Cersei called her into her chambers for tea. It was the most civil Cersei had ever been toward her and it was still laced with unsubtle threats and verbal barbs.

“The newest Lannister. A new brother,” Cersei mused, her eyes pointedly looking at Y/N’s stomach. “I hope they look like father.”

“I do doubt they will look like Lannisters.”

“Oh?” Cersei said, mouth tilting just so. “Are you so sure?”

“I do not look like a Lannister, your grace. Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“Yes, but the seed is strong-”

“Not strong enough. I assure you. The babe will look like me. After all, it seems you have taken all the luck and used it on your children—all of them, green-eyed and golden-haired. What are the chances? Hm?” Y/N finished her tea and stood. “I thank you for the company, your grace. But it is time for me to leave.” And Y/N turned and left without being dismissed, a smile on her face all the while.

And she left. She left without saying goodbye to Oberyn and Ellaria—her only friends in the city. She left knowing it would hurt them. But trying to find a moment to find them, to explain, would only cast suspicion on the paternity of her child. Because she knew she would not be able to stop herself from falling into their arms one last time.

Sansa gave her a small smile as they both settled into the wheelhouse and soon they were off.

Months slipped by and the pregnancy was largely uneventful.

She had kept her distance when she had heard of the Greyjoy attack on Myrcella’s boat and the princess’ death. She kept all the sword hands she could within the borders of the Westerlands when Cersei seized power from the Tyrells after the mysterious death of Tommen. She declared herself queen and threw Margaery into the Black Cells, threatening to send her head to Olenna if the Reach rebelled. She had played the part of careful, dutiful Lady of the Rock very well. She had kept Cersei’s eye off her kingdom and focused on the threats she perceived from across the Narrow Sea or the North.

Sansa had been a dutiful student. When Lord Bolton asked if Sansa would be willing to marry his son, Ramsey, she accepted, even knowing the boy’s reputation to be cold and cruel. Crueler still after the mysterious and suspicious death of his father.

But he never touched Sansa. No. On their wedding night, Ramsey fell ill and then never woke.

But Sansa was the Lady of Winterfell again—a Stark was in the North.

And it was so easy for the North to rally to her cause and the North rose up in revolt again. It made Y/N laugh.

But soon the baby was coming—far sooner than she had anticipated. With a final scream, it was over. A baby’s cries filled the air and a bloody, squirming infant was placed in her arms, wrapped in black silk.

“A boy, my lady. A healthy boy. Have you thought of a name?”

Y/N felt tears start to gather in her eyes as she looked down at her son—her beautiful son. The spitting image of her—but then his eyes opened. And he had his father’s eyes. Viper eyes. “His name is Morgan.”

**

Y/N’s lips still burned from the kiss Oberyn and Ellaria left her with before they departed.

And her heart was lighter, too. They had forgiven her—had said there was nothing, truly, to forgive. “You were protecting your child. My child.”

Morgan stirred in her arms as the wheelhouse rode over a bump. “Mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

His viper eyes opened and she smiled, seeing them shine in the low light of the evening. “Will we see Prince Oberyn and Lady Ellaria again?”

Her smile widened. “Yes. I can promise you that.”

-

Please let me know what you think! 

Beautiful people who asked to be tagged: @huliabitch​ @revolution-starter​ @starlight-starwrites​

[hello-nichya-here]

Ok, so what in your opinion is the WORST mistake that the showrunners for Game of Thrones made in terms of content, either it's addition or redaction?

WARNING: Looooooong post ahead

Themes are for eighth-grade book reports

This absurd quote by one of the showrunners explains why exactly the show fell appart. They wanted to make a story... without themes. Anyone with a minimally functioning brain will tell that this is impossible because every story, even the simplest and least complicated story there ever, has a theme. Even a nihilistic story has a theme "Nothing matters". Every. Story. Has. A. Theme.

But Game Of Thrones didn't, at least not after the writers ran out of books to adapt and did their own thing. Everything every character did was no longer to build a narrative, but to essentially act as click-bait. The focus was to make people keep watching, not on making any content that was worth watching.

The first four seasons had it's problems, just like the books had it's problems, but Martin's writting was so brilliant that it managed to stay good even while being handled by absolute clowns. The moment season four ended was the moment the show stopped being an adaptation and became it's own thing - and like I explained before, said thing wasn't a story.

Shock

Both the show and the books had MANY shocking, heart-breaking and downright horrifying scenes: Daenerys being raped by Drogo; Bran being pushed out the window after accidentally seeing the queen fucking her brother; the whole deal with Craster and his daughters; the Dotrakhi destroying Mirri's village and her revenge against them and Daenerys; Ned's death; Melisandre giving birth to a shadow baby that killed Renly; The Red Wedding; Jeoffrey's death; Tyrion killing his father; Theon being tortured by Ramsay...

The difference is there were REASONS behind the shocking scenes Martin created. Even when you look at things like rape and torture scenes and threats of rape/torture - Martin used those scenes to remind us that the world he created is an EXTREMELY dangerous and downright vile place, and that the characters are never truly safe, and that there are WAY worse things than just being killed.

Dumb & Dumber on the other hand, gaves us scenes like an evil, former man of the night's watch evily making an evil speech to his fellow evil men, evily drinking whine from a human skull while nameless women were being raped in the background - but little does he know that Jon Snow, the hero, is about to wreck his shit. It takes something that could realistically happen (and that did happen in the books) and takes it up to eleven because the writers think shock is the same as quality and that the audience is SO STUPID that they need to practically make the actor jump out of the TV, grab us by the shoulders and scream "I'M EVIL! I'M THE BIG BAD! ROOT FOR THE HERO TO KILL ME!"

Pretty much every bad guy became a parody of Jeoffrey, ironically enough because the writers took Jeoffrey too seriously. He was a cruel, sadistic character, who had WAY too much power - but he was also a spoiled baby whose reply to Tyrion bitch-slapping him wasn't a threat, but "I'M TELLING MOM!" Jeoffrey worked because he was only allowed to do his thing whenever smarter, more competent characters like Tyrion and Tywin where not around, meaning his actions, while inhumane, never reached the point of no longer being believable.

The horrible things that happened to the characters no longer felt "right". For instance, Sansa had just been taken to the Eerie by Little Finger, who has a weird complex in which he sees her both as the daughter he never had with Catelyn AND as a replacement for Catelyn, and she was starting to truly be a player instead of a pawn... and then the writers realized "Oh shit, we should have not cut the Jeyne Pool/Fake Arya' plot, that was important" and forced it on Sansa, making Little Finger hand her on a silver plater to Ramsay and turning her into a victim AGAIN, this time to a man that dramatically fights his enemies without a shirt own, practically saying "come at me bro"

Compare this to Ned's beheading, or Catelyn and Rob being betrayed and killed by the Freys. These moments were shocking and downright depressing - but they were earned. The writting was on the wall for anyone to see: Ned was at the mercy of Jeoffrey, and the Starks had given the Freys, who are notoriously disloyal, a reason to resent them. These twists felt completely natural, were the only logical way for the situation the characters were in to play out, AND they had consequences to plot instead of just making the audience gasp and then being forgotten about.

Plot armor

It's kind of ironic and almost tragic that the show that became famous for killing characters later became the worst type of high-stakes series, putting the characters in situations they could NOT survive, not even if a goddamn miracle happened, and having them live anyway. What's even worse is that it happened repeatedly. If I had to see Jon Snow almost die and then survive anyway one more fucking time I was going to lose my mind.

There's no bigger proof that there were just no consequences for the "main" characters anymore than watching the second, third, and fourth episodes of season either. The first sets up that this battle against the night king and his army of undead is likely going to kill the majority of them, if they're lucky... and then in the third we see the plot armor in all of it's "glory", and then in the forth we find out that the Dotrakhi, who had ALL been killed, actually still have half the numbers they had the night before, somehow. Even red-shirts weren't dying anymore.

DORNE

This disaster needed it's own session because HOLY SHIT, it's a miracle/tragedy that everyone didn't go "Fuck it, I'm never watching another episode of this stupid show."

The Dorne plot in the books isn't perfect, but what the show did to it was so fucking bad that I'm pretty sure the writers didn't even read the Dorne chapters in the books, they just looked at a wiki, wrote down the names of a few characters and then did their own shitty thing.

In the books, Doran Martel is a clever, dangerous man, who pretends to be harmless so people will understimate him and step right into his trap. In the show, Doran Martel... died. That's it. I can't remember anything else that happened to him. Add him to the list of "Brilliant characters that became stupid due to shitty writing", I'm sure Tyrion, Varys and Little Finger will love making him company.

The sand-snakes, one of the main driving force of that plot, were all distinct characters in the books, with their personalities, goals, methods and motivations - basically they were created by a writer who knew what he is was doing. In the show they were all the same "character" who could be perfectly described by that horrible, cringy, PAINFUL line one of them (I can't even remember which) said to Bron "You want a good girl, but you need the bad pussy" (Seriously, if that actress ever kills the show-runners as revenge for having to say that, she'll be 100% justifyed in doing so)

And we cannot forget the driving force behind that unwatchable shit show: Ellaria Sand. In the books, the death of Oberyn made her believe that revenge only leads to more blood-shed. In the show, his death enraged to the point of wanting to avenge him and his family, and she did this... by killing his family. If that doesn't explain how insane and stupid this plot-line was, I don't know what will.

Hype = Character assassination

Many shows are based around the conflict between the bad guys and the good guys. Game Of Thrones is not one of these shows. Or at least it wasn't. As they ran out of ideas, the writers started mutilating every single character until they could be label as "Good" or "Bad", regardless of what felt right to the story and to the point that there was nothing left of said characters. Stannis's actor, Stephen Dillane, straight up said that the only thing he got from being on the show was money and that his character's motivations and decisions were nonsense - ironically enough, that kind of brutal honesty means that the writers had THE perfect actor play Stannis, and wasted his fucking time.

Here's a list of the characters that fell victims to this horrible fate: Catelyn Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Jon Snow, Melisandre, Stannis, Jorah, Daenerys (bonus points for being mutilated into being both a generic, shitty "hero" and a generic, shitty "villain") Greyworm, Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark...

Pretty much the only character who became more complex in the show than she was in the books was Cersei. While her book self was never just a "Generic Evil Queen", the show version of her was far more sympathetic, which made the stories she was part of interesting. Too bad the writers ran out of ideas of what to do with her after season six and just left her by the window drinking whine until Dany showed up to kill her. Which brings us to...

Why is this happening?

Cersei was seen as a threat in the last two seasons based on nothing but the things she HAD done. Her story just ended the very second season six did, but since she was still alive despite being one of the bad guys she had to die... I guess. She (and by extention Jaime) joined the list of characters that had nothing to do, but were still around: Davos, Theon, Yara, Melisandre, Bron, Sam, Gendry, Bran (the last one being SO unnecessary that he was cut from season five and no one noticed)

To combat that issue, the writers gave characters "motivations" that made no sense. For exemple: Sandor Clegane. His only reason to be in the show was so he could kill his brother. The problem was that Gregor was already dead. He was a walking corpse. There was nothing left of the abusive brother Sandor once knew, meaning he had no reason to fight him, and that, to keep Sandor around, the writers should have come up something new (like the redemption that book fans have been waiting for, and that has a lot of backing evidence). You might as well have had HIM be the one to randomly fly out of nowhere and kill the night king despite having no connection to him.

And since we're talking about the night king... Arya was the one to kill him. Why? Because the writers ruined Jaime's redemption arc, meaning that the only fitting ending for him was to die with Cersei, and so Arya could not kill Cersei despite wanting to, having the ability to do, AND having heard a prophecy that said she'd "Shutting brown eyes, blue eyes, and green eyes forever", the last one being the only one she had not done AND applying to Cersei. But Dumb & Dumber admitted they had no plan for this, so now that they were at the last season, they needed to do something with it, and they retconned it to mean Arya would kill the night king...

But Arya killing him meant Jon had nothing to do, so Dany had to go mad so he could kill her. To "hint" at that, they ignored all the not at all subtle foreshadowing the previous season had of Dany and Jon having a kid, and they even showed her getting jealous that he was technically the true heir... even though that made no sense since they were going to rule together anyway, and even after Dany went full "Mad Queen" she ASKED HIM TO RULE WITH HER. But anyways, he kills her and becomes king...

Except he doesn't actually become king and him being a secret Targaryen has no effect in the plot, because Bran needed to become king so there'd be a reason for him to be alive, because his magical powers turned into a plot-device. A plot-device that wasn't used at any goddamn point. Seriously, the only thing as bad as Bran becoming king was Euron's existence - dude was THE most useless villain ever AND the worst Jeoffrey parody.

A darker story (literally)

I could not end this rant without bitching about this. What is the point of spending an ungodly amount of money on sets, costumes, make-up, special effects... and then using such poor lighting that no one can see what the fucking is going on?

Anyway, this disaster of a series was so absurd it should be used as an exemple of what NOT to do.

[acciowests]

From Lorcan With Love

WORD COUNT: 1707

SUMMARY: A "From Lukov With Love" inspired ice hockey x figure skating AU featuring Lorcan Salvaterre and Elide Lochan from "Throne Of Glass"

Lorcan and Rowan arrive early for training and walk in on a figure skater finishing her session. It isn't until she falls that Lorcan rushes forward, helping up the woman he learns is called Elide and immediately begins to fall for her charms.

"You know, you didn't have to wake me up this early, right?" Rowan drawled as they pulled into the Orynth Rink parking lot. With their first game of the season taking place next Friday, Lorcan Salvaterre - Goalkeeper of the Terrasen High Hawks - had booked out the rink for three whole hours of practice. Along with being Lorcan's best friend, Rowan Whitethorn was also the captain of the Hawks, their school's ice hockey team. Despite having napped for most of their journey, Rowan's brows were furrowed in a tired frown, his lips in a thin line as he stretched in his seat.

The capital's Ice Rink mainly housed ice skating: including singles figure skating, pairs ice dancing, as well as the annual sectional competitions and sometimes the national one also. None of that meant much to Lorcan, he just knew the Orynth Rink also showcased professional Hockey Teams, such as the Orynth Stags; a team he had dreamt of being a part of since he started his ice hockey journey at seven-years-old.

"Stop complaining, old man," Lorcan chuckled, smirking at the silver-haired boy. "Get the bags from the trunk will you?"

Sticking up his middle finger noncommittally, letting it fall into his lap, Rowan climbed out of the car, rounding toward the back of the vehicle. Lorcan switched off the engine and stepped outside. Grabbing the gym bag full of their gear, Rowan hauled it over his shoulder as Lorcan locked the car, the two boys walking through the parking lot and toward the rink.

The changing room was empty, as Lorcan expected, and the two boys changed in comfortable silence. They pulled on their team jerseys: deep green with silver writing that displayed their name and number. Paired with sweatpants and their elbow and shoulder pads, as well as their shin guards, the boys shoved their bags into the lockers, along with their phones, and headed out to the rink. Walking off the ice with skates on had always felt weird, even with the skate guards that protected the blade. Heading down into the stadium, Lorcan's eyes locked onto the lone figure skater within the rink. The clock overhead told him she still had fifteen minutes left, which meant he and Rowan had fifteen minutes of waiting.

Slumping down into a seat, Lorcan set his elbows against his knees, leaning forward and watching the petite, raven-haired girl dance across the ice. Beside him, Rowan drummed his feet lazily, Lorcan ignoring him completely as he listened to the sound of her blade across the ice.

When, and if, he saw figure skaters, they were always wearing glittery costumes in shades of reds, purples and blues. And though he was sure most skaters did dress down for practice, the girl before him looked like she dressed in the dark. Which, if she had booked a three hour practise, she just might have. Ignoring the grey leggings and burgundy sweater showing a Perranth Skating Club logo, she skated as though she was in front of thousands. Each turn was sharp but smooth, each of her jumps or leaps landing perfectly - to Lorcan's untrained eye, anyway.

"I was thinking we could do some new drills. As captain, I reckon we have a good shot this season. I think we could rank high, come out on top," Rowan started, interrupting Lorcan's gaze.

"Right, yeah. If the others even get here," Lorcan sighed, not that he minded. He was much enjoying his time watching the beautiful skater.

"Chill out, Lor. There's still five minutes, they'll be here," Rowan insisted, nudging Lorcan's shoulder.

Shrugging, Lorcan turned to face the rink, just in time to watch the skater turn back into a jump. She took off from the back outside edge of her skate, using her toe pick to help her spin twice, and just as her foot hit the ice, her ankle gave way. An echoing thud rang out around them as she hit the floor, her thigh and butt slamming down onto the ice as she fell.

Before he even realised what he was doing, Lorcan stood, rushing down the rows of seats and towards the rink. Removing his skate guards and tossing them to the side, Lorcan stepped onto the ice, skating over to the girl who was now curled up, a hand against her thigh and stretching a leg out before her.

"Hey, you okay?" Lorcan called, coming to a stop beside her and offering her a hand, "That looked like a pretty nasty fall."

The girl chuckled, rubbing her thigh once more and taking his hand. Her palm was surprisingly soft, cold enough to send a shiver through him as she gripped tightly. Hoisting her up, Lorcan didn't miss the wince that slipped between her lips. Before he could say anything, she shook her head, "It's fine, it's just my ankle."

As she stood before him, Lorcan tried not to smirk at the immense height difference between them. At least a whole foot. Instead, he just nodded, "Well, that jump looked pretty hard. From what I've seen you're a pretty good skater. You shouldn't let one fall get you down."

"Not good enough. I should be able to do that jump in my sleep. There's no way I'm going to win sectionals like this," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her left hand, Lorcan realised, was still in his. She hadn't put her ankle back down onto the ice, instead, she rested it against her other foot, off the ground where there was no pressure on it.

"What happened? Is it just a strain?" Lorcan asked, hoping he wasn't being too curious. His eyes were drawn to the flush of her cheeks, bright red against the pale shading of the rest of her face. With her mop of black hair against glowing skin, she looked ethereal.

"I wish," she scoffed, "No, I broke it a few years ago and it never healed properly. I lost my axel completely, had to relearn my entire program and make all the moves easier. I already lost regionals, I can't afford to lose sectionals too," she explained, her chest rising and falling.

"Well, how long until sectionals? Maybe with some assistance, and physiotherapy on your ankle, you might be able to win?" Lorcan suggested, watching the girl's eyebrows slowly furrow as she looked up at him. They were thick and black, arching over her face and defining it fiercely.

"You don't know when sectionals are?" she asked, as though it was the most obvious question in the world.

Lorcan chuckled, shaking his head, "Oh, no. I'm not a skater. I play ice hockey."

The girl blinked, her eyes widening, "Oh... Oh my god, I'm so sorry. You probably have no idea what I was just talking about, do you?"

Lorcan couldn't help but laugh, loving the way the girl's lips curled into a smile as he did so, "No, but it's fine. I can tell you're very dedicated. I'm Lorcan, by the way, Terrasen High Hawks."

"Terrasen High? Wait, Lorcan as in Lorcan Salvaterre?" she asked, brows raising. Lorcan knew he recognised her. He could have sworn she was in the year below him, he would remember her face anywhere.

"The one and only. You're a junior, right?" he replied, helping her skate back across the rink and toward the entrance. She reached for her skate guards as he remained on the ice. Slipping his hand to her elbow, he helped her balance as she stepped back onto the stone ground.

"Right. Elide Lochan, Perranth skating club," she smiled, sticking her hand out. Lorcan shook it happily, loving the warmth that radiated from her like electricity.

"Perranth is lucky to have you represent them," Lorcan smirked, biting down on his bottom lip. There was something about the girl before him, something that made him feel completely giddy inside. If his teammates saw him like this...

Elide rolled her eyes. Chocolate, Lorcan noticed, the perfect shade of swirly hazelnut. "Now you're just being kind!" she laughed, a melodic sound that he wished he could capture forever, "Thanks, by the way, for helping me up. I probably would have just laid there until my session was over."

Lorcan grinned, something he didn't do too often, "Well, you're lucky I was here. Couldn't have you catching a cold, can we?  I heard hypothermia is a killer."

Pressing her lips together, Elide shook her head slowly, "No, I suppose we can't."

With an obnoxious slam, the doors to the rink swung open. The remainder of his team poured out, dressed and ready for their training session. A blur of green and silver, plus the grey, black and navy blue of Adidas sweatpants. Gavriel was at the front, the oldest on the team, his golden hair tied back in a bun and a grin on his face as he reached Rowan.

Rowan stood, patting Gavriel's shoulder and moving down the rows of chairs. "Lorcan," he called, heading toward the equipment cupboard in the corner of the rink, "Help me get the stuff out!"

They always borrowed sticks and pucks from whatever rink they were training at. Lorcan only used his own stick for final games, an object of good luck. They would also have to drag the goals out, setting them up to actually have something to shoot at.

Offering Lorcan a smile, Elide stepped back, rocking on her good foot, "So, I guess I'll see you around then?"

If he had his phone to hand, he would have asked for her number right there and then. But, he didn't. As she turned to walk up the steps toward the changing rooms, Lorcan called, "We have a game next Friday, will you be there?"

Elide stopped, looking over her shoulder and smirking, "Depends, are you inviting me?"

Pushing down the chuckle that tickled his throat, Lorcan nodded, "I am, and maybe we could hang out afterwards... Just the two of us?"

"Sure, sounds fun. See you Friday, then," Elide confirmed, turning almost immediately and rushing up the stairs.

Lorcan watched until she completely disappeared from view. He could smell the cinnamon and elderberries scent that lingered in her wake. Elide Lochan. Friday couldn't come sooner.

* * *

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[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality (Part II)

Following on from Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality Part I, here is part II. 

CLAIM #3: Arthur *constantly* denied that Merlin was his friend

This claim assumes that Arthur was 1)- serious when he did deny being friends with Merlin and 2)- unwilling to change that viewpoint.

Arthur had no need to either deny or admit to being friends with Merlin. Even when he said in episode 2x13 that, “I know I’m a Prince, so we can’t be friends,” the implication is that he does want to be friends. After all, he was insisting that Merlin confide in him. This pattern would repeat in many episodes to come. 

Bear in mind that Arthur has described other people as friends, too. This includes people we never saw onscreen. A clear example comes from episode 5x05, when Arthur was so moved with grief by Sir Ranulf’s death that he personally led a collection of knights to bring the sorcerer Osgar to justice. He explained to Gwen that “...he was a friend. We knew each other as boys.”

So why would Arthur have trouble admitting that Merlin was his friend? The viewpoint that being more arrogant and prejudiced in the earlier seasons, Arthur would not admit to friendship with a servant, does not hold as much water as some think. As early as episode 2x05, Arthur called Merlin a “true friend”, because he (mistakenly) thought that Merlin was criticising Lady Catrina on his behalf. 

Admittedly, the best examples of Arthur accepting Merlin as a friend come from Seasons 4 and 5. 

In episode 4x01, Merlin said, “I always thought that if things hadn’t been different, we’d have been good friends.” Arthur’s response? “Yeah.” During the crucial episode 4x03, Merlin sat outside the throne room all right, facing a crossroads between the end of his dreams and remaining loyal to the king. Of course, Arthur had no idea about this, but he appreciated the gesture. “You are a loyal friend, Merlin.” In episode 4x05, Arthur called Merlin “old friend”, which is self-explanatory. 

It’s also worth noting that even after claiming in episode 4x05 that he didn’t need friends, when Merlin later said, “I’m your friend!”, Arthur did not disagree. 

Now, I could cite the example of episode 4x07, where Arthur said to Merlin, “I’ve had my heart broken once today. I don’t want to lose another friend.” Self-explanatory. But was this proof of their friendship? No. Arthur was essentially threatening to end his friendship with Merlin if the latter continued criticising Agravaine. Later, in episode 4x11, Arthur again threatened to banish Merlin for the second time (thus ending their friendship) if he accused Agravaine of treason again. This once again shows how Arthur associated loyalty with family first. 

One of the best examples comes from episode 4x13: “I came back because you’re the only friend I have, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Is Merlin Arthur’s only friend? No. However, out of all Arthur’s friends, Merlin was his best friend, and losing almost everyone and everything else made him realise that yet again. 

Then we have all the actions which prove Arthur considered Merlin as a friend. 

For example relied on Merlin’s opinion, as Princess Mithian rightly observed in episode 4x11. “One thing I’ve learned since being here is that Arthur values your opinion above almost all others.” 

He complained about Merlin’s periods of silence and broodiness, like in episode 3x05: “Come on: I’m missing your usual prattle!” In episode 3x09, after noting that Merlin was upset, he said, “For goodness’ sake, what is your problem?”

Another example comes from episode 5x01, where Arthur noted Merlin sitting outside the camp and took the time to find out why he was “so upset”. 

The example from episode 5x05 is self-explanatory: “Seriously, I haven’t seen you smile these past three days.” Arthur relies on Merlin’s cheerfulness to remain optimistic, because he faces the constant threat of death. Notice that shortly after Merlin’s sombre mood, Arthur stopped dismissing Osgar’s warnings about The Disir.

As if this were not enough, look at Arthur spending downtime with Merlin. A great example comes from episode 3x04, where Arthur decides on “a nice, cold tankard of mead” after hunting. In episode 3x13, both were sitting on the courtyard steps discussing the future of the kingdom. Even despite his strenuous denials and ingratitude in episode 4x05, you can see Arthur gesture for Merlin to sit down the morning after they captured Caerleon.

What about all the hunting trips? Arthur knows that Merlin hates hunting (in fact, he takes pleasure in this fact), yet still brought him along, as episodes 1x13, 3x04, 4x11, 5x03, and 5x11 show. 

By far my favourite example comes from episode 5x12, when Arthur and Merlin were playing dice at the tavern. (I don’t know iwhat this game was called.) In my view, this happened regularly. Why else would the common people watch and laugh while Merlin poked fun at their king? (Percival’s face was classic.) And why was Arthur playing against Merlin? When did Merlin learn how to play dice? Who taught him? When? 

Obviously, I do not know, but it’s worth asking. 

Despite being speechless after Merlin “won” the game, Arthur let Merlin “win” all of his money. (Clearly, Arthur was the better player: “Feel free to retire at any time.” The king only used theatrics to get the right dice roll, while Merlin cheated with magic each time. If Merlin hadn’t “coughed”, then Arthur would have rolled correctly a second time. Hence why Arthur said beforehand, “Enjoy this moment, Merlin… while it lasts.”) 

Look at Arthur, who was dressed in a plain shirt, rather than his armour and cloak. When we put this scene in conjunction with episode 3x04, where Arthur again wore plain clothes, we can see that he enjoyed these moments of normality. “There’s no better place to measure the mood of your people than the local tavern… I’m just a simple peasant like everybody else.”

So where is this strenuous denial? Nowhere. Arthur never constantly denied that Merlin was his friend. Nor did he only admit this in secret, otherwise the great dice scene in episode 5x12 would never have happened. Sure, the people might have been astonished to see their great king playing against a servant, but they must also have known that if Arthur allowed himself to be “beaten” at a game by his servant, the latter must be his friend. 

CLAIM #4: Merlin was usually/always (in the) right

Wrong. Being right most of the time does not mean being right all of the time. Merlin failed to realise this, and consequently made grievous errors throughout the series. The most grievous errors came when he tried to fight against death. Episode 3x05 shows this; all of the grief and pain suffered by Arthur, Gwen, and Uther stemmed from Merlin mortally injuring Morgana in a bid to prevent her from killing the king. 

He effectively ignored the warning to “use what you see for good.” 

Then we have the example to end all examples; Merlin’s recklessness, presumptuousness, bold-faced hypocrisy, coldness, prejudice, and most of all, jealousy towards Sir Mordred. 

Even as early as episode 1x08, Merlin almost let the boy Mordred die on account of a prophecy. At least back then he questioned it before hiding in bed like a coward. Mordred also blamed Merlin for Uther’s carnage in episode 2x11, though in the case of that episode and episode 2x03, I think Merlin’s actions were no worse than presumptuous. 

It gets far worse in episode 5x02, when Merlin yelled, “You should have killed him!”, to which Arthur rightly said, “What is wrong with you?” Mordred saw that he could not jump across the gorge, so he surrendered and walked away. (He probably knew that Arthur would arrive in Ismere soon, as his later conversation with Morgana demonstrates.) 

Later on, Arthur gave Merlin another strange look after Merlin said, “I told you, you should have killed him when you had the chance.” How could someone usually so compassionate insist on executing a man who stopped threatening them?

Remember how Merlin reacted to Arthur killing Caerleon in episode 4x05, despite having plenty of evidence that Caerleon was a threat to Arthur’s life?

By the way, episodes 5x01 and 5x02 are my favourite examples of Merlin being horrendously wrong. Other episodes include 5x05, and the crucial errors he made in episode 5x11. (I watched most of episode 5x11 last Sunday, and I was floored. It shook me more than 5x12 and 5x13, which I had also been avoiding for years.) 

Going back to episodes 5x01 and 5x02 (because episode 5x11 is too depressing): if Arthur had listened to Merlin’s “advice”, he would have abandoned his knights to a slow death in slavery. He would also have committed murder, simply on Merlin’s say-so. If you kill someone who is defenceless and has surrendered, that is murder-- regardless of whether, like Merlin, you are desperately scared of a prophecy and speaking without thinking. 

Also, if Arthur had rushed back to Camelot on Merlin’s say-so, he might well have been assassinated by Ruadan. 

Most of all, almost everything that Merlin “advised” violated Arthur’s core beliefs-- the very beliefs that made Merlin respect Arthur in the first place. It’s astonishing that Arthur had to explain no less than five times that he would never abandon any of his men, otherwise he would be abandoning his own values and the values that built Camelot. 

So desperate is Merlin to fight against death that he either quietly ignores this advice, or claims he agrees, only to try dissuading Arthur later on. 

Just to be clear: I perfectly understand that beneath all Merlin’s horrible advice and prevarication, he does not want to lose his friend. 

However, just watch Merlin’s marvellous inconsistency throughout episode 5x01. First, he plays Devil’s Advocate by asking Arthur, “Do you really think Gwaine and Percival could still be alive?” Arthur says he has to find out, because they are knights of Camelot. Merlin says, “I understand.” Of course he did. 

Bear in mind that this happened before Merlin learned of the prophecy. Some have therefore asked what made Merlin unwilling to look for the missing knights, who were his friends. 

In Annis’ castle, Merlin said, “I’m not sure we should go to Ismere.” On the other hand, Arthur, acting on reliable information that Morgana had rounded up slaves, took this as a sign that his mission was right. Merlin tried arguing, then gave up. One might assume that after two rational explanations, Merlin would see reason, particularly since even Kilgharrah could not confirm that the fated battle would take place. 

But no. After the knights left Annis’ lands, Merlin complained again that Morgana was “powerful… dangerous.” So, Arthur explained yet again that “no matter what lies ahead of me, I won’t abandon them.” Merlin respected this answer, because he said, “I understand. I wish I didn’t-- but I do.” (Why does he wish he did not understand why Arthur would risk his life for all of his soldiers?) 

But the very next day, after the ambush, Merlin turned to rage: “The two of us against Morgana, are you mad?” He tried stopping Arthur from going any further. So Arthur explained himself again. Consequently, Merlin continued following Arthur. 

The very same night, he once again insisted that, “We have to turn back.” Arthur explained himself yet again, and Merlin promised to “protect you or die at your side.”

Which one is it? Not to mention that in episode 5x02, instead of apologising for his carelessness, Merlin said, “And I told you to go back to Camelot.” This is silly, given that Arthur had already refused to return on numerous occasions until he had rescued his men, assuming they were still alive. 

The most hilarious example comes later, when Merlin says, “We can’t let them hand us over to Morgana: we need to get out of here, we need a plan.” But when Arthur comes up with that plan, what does Merlin say? “You’ve got to be joking!”, “You should have killed him!”, “Next time, we might not be so lucky.”, “We’ll never make it in there.”, and “How did you talk me into this?” 

Again, which one is it?

I know why Merlin behaved this way, of course. However, there’s a difference between the noble goal of protecting your friend, and ignoring everything and everyone else in order to reach that goal-- particularly through controlling means. Throughout the series, Merlin’s biggest fault comes from his controlling tendencies, which always backfire. And he never learns.  

In this way, Merlin shackled Arthur with unrealistic expectations about a Golden Age based on prophecies that he could not verify. Somehow, this Golden Age had now become evading Arthur’s death. He wanted Arthur to share that belief. Worse, even while his motives came from a noble goal, he treated other people as expendable. 

Another example of Merlin’s absurd reasoning comes from the fateful episode 5x05. Putting aside the fact that Merlin tried claming that sentencing Mordred to die was an acceptable price to pay “for Camelot”, he also previously claimed that, “I do care. About who you are, Arthur. Who you are destined to become.” 

This makes zero sense, given that Arthur had already taken the throne and “brought peace to the kingdom” (episode 5x03). What more did he have to achieve? It depends on who you ask: bringing back magic, uniting the five kingdoms, eternal peace, avoiding the prophecy about Mordred, bowing to the Triple Goddess, being the greatest king this land has ever known… 

Can you see how unrealistic this is? Moreover, can you see how Merlin used Arthur as a vehicle of his own unrealistic ambitions? This is why the Golden Age never happened: it was a myth. It allowed the Druids, Gaius, Kilgharrah, etc. to live vicariously through the new king. 

Bringing back magic was impossible while Morgana continued using it for great evil. (And the Triple Goddess, who complained about Arthur persecuting sorcery, allowed Morgana to continue that evil conduct.)

Arthur did take considerable steps to uniting the kingdoms, particularly when he signed a treaty with King Odin in episode 5x04. But eternal peace? Impossible, otherwise episodes 5x01 and 5x02 would not have happened. 

The unbiquitous prophecy about Mordred was never backed by evidence, leaving Merlin in a state of constant paranoia, and causing him to make horrible errors. This despite the fact that, by his own admission, “I like him [Mordred] myself.” [1]

Bowing to the Triple Goddess was nothing but blackmail using Mordred’s life as a bargaining chip. This once again shows how many sorcerers had caused chaos and misery. Remember, this same Triple Goddess used torture techniques such as controlling people’s minds using the Fomorroh, as Morgana explained in episode 4x06. 

While I believe that the persecution of peaceful sorcerers was wrong, Arthur had no quarrel with the Druids (episode 5x11), and he still had good reason for banning sorcery (also explained in episode 5x11). Nobody, not even Merlin, gave him a reason to change his mind. Kara definitely did not, for she wasn’t executed for being a Druid: she was executed for murder and attempted murder. 

As for being the greatest king this land had ever known… Well, Arthur appreciated that statement in episode 4x12. However, when Merlin spoke of the greatest kingdom in the world in episode 4x13, Arthur said, “You’re making this up.”

In episode 5x01, Merlin claimed that, “Arthur, without you, Camelot is nothing.” Arthur disagreed, saying that abandoning his men was worse than surviving Morgana. Even in episode 5x04, Arthur accepted his death. “So be it. But understand this, Odin: you kill me, and you’ll have all of Camelot to answer to.” Odin was astonished that a king could have such confidence in the face of death. 

The most important example comes from episode 5x13. Merlin said the same thing about Camelot being nothing without Arthur, to which the dying king said, “There was a time when that was true. Not now. There are many who can fill the crown.” And of course, he gave the royal seal to Gwen. Can anyone argue with this? 

I guess you could say that Arthur didn’t believe his own hype.

Indeed, Arthur felt satisfied about what he had achieved in his life. “Everything you’ve done, I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build.” (Episode 5x13). That was it. Arthur knew that he had changed Camelot for the better, that Merlin killing his half-sister had brought “peace at last”, and that he owed Merlin an unpayable debt for helping him to achieve all of these goals. 

Why did Arthur accept the certainty of his death for so long? Because he believed his cause was right, and his death would help save the lives of thousands in Camelot. Dying in service to Camelot was his real destiny. It was inevitable, and to him, it was the most honourable act he would ever undertake. 

You cannot know how great you will be until you die. “That’s the way things work, I’m afraid. You get the glory when you’re not around to appreciate it.” (Episode 4x06). At that point, you will never see your legacy. Merlin either did not know that, or he did not want to know it. 

Arthur’s death ultimately serves as the greatest evidence that Merlin was wrong the whole time.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART III

FOOTNOTES

[1]  I don’t doubt that Merlin liked Mordred. In fact, the scene in episode 5x05, where Merlin buried Osgar, shows how difficult it was for him to maintain his mistrust when the druid was so polite and perceptive. So why the contradiction? Why claim you like someone, yet insist that they would commit regicide? The answer is that Merlin used the prophecy as an excuse. In fact, his prejudice against Mordred had more to do with jealousy than the prophecy. After being involved in an attempt to trade Arthur and Merlin as slaves to Morgana, Arthur knighted the druid for one noble act. Did Merlin aspire to be a knight? I don’t know. He definitely wanted that same level of trust and respect given to Mordred, though, and knighthood created a bond that a servant could not have.

[gospelofme]

57 Thoughts I Had While Watching Part 2 of The Bad Batch Season Finale (Spoilers ahead!!)

I do like how Part 2 picks right up where Part 1 left off. I prefer that method since it makes it feel like one connected piece. Like how Rogue One ended where A New Hope kicks off.

Ya know, I wouldn’t mind the thunderstorms.

Okay the explosions are beautifully animated. The blues, the sparks, the orange flames. And I like how they’re realistically placed. So many shows with explosions don’t have them right close to the characters, even if they’re supposed to be all around them.

This episode is kinda darkly lit. Not like Battle of Winterfell in Game of Thrones.

Okay yeah, that clone reporting the destruction…thats some sadness there.

That inner alarm has me thinking “oh shit my flight has changed gates again hasn’t it!!”

Damn, imagine being unconscious and wake up in a flooding compartment with a droid and that one kid who took your place.

Okay how strong is that knife. I kinda expect it to break in half. Wrecker would

probably try to trade with Hunter after that.

The shot of the burning buildings on the water is so beautiful too. The reflections were well done.

About AZ being like “oh hey homie, you survived being blown up but now you’re drowning. And I’m watching while this literal child tries to move metal debris off of you.”

Okay Omega using her bow like that is genius. But please wee baby don’t hit Crosshair by accident. And the way the bolts underwater were animated. 🤌🏻🤌🏻

And Crosshair being all “wtf?!”

Dang Omega is so take charge here.

Okay the sprays of water from the door is so well done. And omg they just pop outta there lmao!!!! About how Omega is caught and they just let Crosshair slide on the floor.

Haha Crosshair being like “Hunter, you fucker did you break something?!”

I really wish it wasn’t so darkly lit, but it does bring a sense of realism. The power is out, so what we’re able to see is what the characters are able to see with flashlights. Plus I’m sure this would look different on my TV than iPad.

The music is so pretty, so emotional. Oh damn poor AZ.

Oh never mind. He’s good.

Crosshair quit being a poop and follow them please.

Echo and that smell lmao.

“Blind allegiance makes you a pawn. A real leader protects his squad.”

Huh. Interesting. But isn’t blind allegiance what the clones had in the Republic? Isn’t that what Clone Force 99 had in the Republic? At least mostly. Some clones didn’t have that obviously, like Cut.

Ooohh Crosshair’s expression when Hunter knocked his shoulder. That seemed like surprise. There is something to that.

Hmmmmmm I’m with Crosshair on that. Going through a glass tunnel with cracks in it hundreds of feet below the surface would be a no from me. Also, what about water pressure? Is that not a thing there? Like wouldn’t you get a massive headache traveling through that? Or maybe not….idk.

Oh fuck Wrecker letting Crosshair know what’s what. I do like that he’s finally expressing how he feels. I’ve always thought there was more of a brotherly relationship between Wrecker and Crosshair than Crosshair had with the others. And Wrecker has a point, Crosshair didn’t even try to come back to them. Of course that really isn’t a fair statement either I guess. Wrecker should remember how he couldn’t control what he did when his chip kicked on.

And Tech jumping in and saying that Crosshair has always been “severe and unyielding” is a good way to let us know a bit more of what’s normal behavior for Crosshair. I like how he’s reminded Wrecker that some things Crosshair can’t help due to just how he is (likely a byproduct of the enhancement experiments).

“Understanding you does not mean I agree with you.” Ugh if only more people had this mindset. Also, the whole “why are you defending me?” sounds like Tech doesn’t usually leap to Crosshair’s defense (even though that’s not what he’s doing here). Which further makes me think that the brotherly relationship that usually exists between team members (like Domino squad eventually, Rex/Echo/Fives/Kix/Jesse/Hardcase/Tup) doesn’t exist here between all the guys. It’s more sporadic. Crosshair seems to get along better with Wrecker (in their own way, teasing and their droid death counts) than he does with Tech.

Also perhaps they should not stop so often…ya know, just in case the tunnel implodes.

Oh nope nope nope. No underwater tubes and sea monsters for Bethany.

AZ is so peppy. Like he sounds so positive when relaying bad news. He sounds like the kinda droid that would be like “good news is you have great cholesterol, bad news is you have cancer. But yay no diabetes!”

Oh yeah I kinda forgot Hunter wasn’t with them they first got to the private lab. And oh damn, Omega is technically older than them. The whole accelerated aging thing is just so unfair.

Well we really couldn’t expect a glass tunnel to fully survive aerial bombardment. Better start swimming fuckers!!

Damn, someone find AZ a charger! I bet Tech has one for his datapad that boy is attached too. He seems like the type to never be without a phone charger. He also seems like the type to not want to share it because no one else in the squad treats their charge cords with respect.

Dad gum Crosshair, I didn’t hear you spouting off any bright ideas. Geez, who peed in your wheaties?!

Hunter takes things too personally?! Weren’t you being all Salty McSourpus over Hunter leaving your ass on Kamino for shooting at him and the others? Were you not taking that too personally? But kudos to Hunter for reminding him the Empire peaced the fuck out and left him to die on Kamino. Although…Crosshair does sound like he’s trying not to care about that. Like it does bother him but he’s acting like he don’t give a fuck.

“The Empire will control the entire Galaxy. And I’m going to be a part of it.” Uhm, sir…you’re currently in a secret lab at the bottom of the ocean with no means of escape right now. How do you plan to be a part of the Empire from down here? Like, are you going to establish the underwater branch of the Empire and assert the Emperor’s control over the sea critters?

Ugh Omega trying so hard to bond with Crosshair. Like the parallel between this scene and the holding cell scene. And her thinking she was wrong about the chip making him behave like a dick. Oh sweet baby, you’re not wrong. He still has that thing. But he has always been a dick per Tech’s words earlier. But she’s trying so hard to show him the similarities between them.

I’ve noticed Crosshair does a lot of pushing people away. Like he’s been doing that with Hunter and Omega this whole season. Speaking harshly to them both (although I think some of the things he says to Hunter, he’s always wanted to say). But I think it’s more that he wants to avoid disappointing them, so he shoves them away to prevent that feeling. Like perhaps he thinks he isn’t worthy to be around them, that they’ll be better off without him around.

Oh fuck, look at you contributing now Mr. I Am Going To Complain About Other People’s Ideas.

Did they have to draw straws to see who got their own pod and who had to team up with who? Like,

Hunter: “Someone has to go with Tech.”

Crosshair, Wrecker: “Not it!”

Echo: “not it, fuck I wasn’t fast enough.”

Oh the wee child is getting her own pod. Okay then.

Of course Hunter and Crosshair get doubled up. I bet they argue the whole time.

Crosshair: “stop breathing all the air!!”

Hunter: “stop standing on my foot!!”

Crosshair: “well it’s not my fault you have Sasquatch feet!”

Oh damn. Well bye Omega. It was nice knowing you. Crosshair probably has your eulogy already written.

Hm, so Tech never shared his datapad charge cord with AZ. Bummer.

Awww poor AZ. He was a good droid. We’ll remember how he OMG OMEGA WHAT THE FUCK?!!???

Again is water pressure not a thing in Star Wars?

Sweetie. He’s metal. You won’t be strong enough to pull him along with you.

Oh fuck Crosshair! Oh damn the look on his face is like “Hunter, get you ugly ass face out of my shot.” Oh damn, boy has got some good eyesight, I want a piece of that.

Bruh, that’s gotta hurt. You just saved the kid they all love and they got you at blaster point. Buuuuuut at the same time you haven’t expressed the most positive attitude towards said kid either. So maybe they have a good reason to think you’d shoot her? Still. Damn. That’s gotta hurt, since if it had been the good ol’ days they’d be like “nice shot buddy!”

Hunter looks more wary than upset honestly. Like he isn’t sure why Crosshair did that, but he’s not sure if Crosshair would want him expressing gratitude either. Hunter doesn’t seem to know how to treat him any more. Crosshair belittles him and speaks harshly to him, but then saves Omega. It’s almost like old Crosshair is still in there, knowing how attached the team is to Omega. Even if he does think she’s not in the safest environment with them.

Oh…omg what is this?! I just noticed, no rain on Kamino….AND SUNSHINE?! Like is that a fucking sunrise??!!?? Oh shit you guys there is symbolism here!!! Like a new start or something impossible has happened. Like there has never been sunshine on Kamino, it’s always stormed. Always. Always and forever it has done that. But after the destruction of Tipoca City, the rains cease and the sunshine comes out. Like….omg guys. It’s pretty!!

Interesting. Omega seems sad that a place she didn’t want to ever return to is gone. But I guess that’s probably the notion that she’s essentially homeless setting in. That the only home she’s had (before Clone Force 99) is gone.

Also, I have this theory that Ghost Fives probably travels with Echo, and he’d likely be like “good! Fuck that place. Killing Tup there and all. Bitches.”

Echo: “stfu Fives, she’s sad okay.”

Honestly I’m not surprised Crosshair refused their offer to come with them. He has his pride and I feel like he doesn’t want to admit aligning with the Empire was a mistake. That he was wrong and Hunter was right. Especially after being all Pro-Empire and talking about how they’re going to be what the Galaxy needs.

“Consider us even.” GIRL he admits it! He was saving YOU!! YOU! Not the dumb droid, YOU!!!!

His face says it all when they pull away. Like he regrets not going with them, but he can’t bring himself to stay with them. He’s really conflicted right now. He has programming in his head telling him one thing and another portion of his mind reminding him that Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, and even Echo care about him. That they’re a team. He even wanted them to join the Empire so they could all get back together. He does want to be with them, but it’s going to take time to get passed the war in his head.

Oh damn, Nala Se and some Commando buddies. Yeah there’s something up with her. She seems to have gained a lot out of this. Making herself more important than Lama Su and likely more important than the other scientists from Kamino. I wonder if this was her plan all along. It’s so hard to tell what Kaminoans are thinking because they don’t express emotions facially or even vocally.

I read a post somewhere about Nala Se doing childish science experiments. Like the baking soda/vinegar volcano. And now I can’t get the image out of my head of her teaching like a high school chemistry class where you get to do those classic science fair experiments. Things exploding, clones accidentally gassing each other at a table. Someone betting someone else 5 credits to drink a solution.

@leias-left-hair-bun @halzore @escapedthesarlacc @eyecandyeoz

[my-reality-my-rules]

my first times shifting pt. 2

third time shifting.

[pt. 1, pt. 3, pt. 4]

TW: language, graphic descriptions of blood and gore

let's just say this one was another...death experience. and it's not really as surprising as the previous one, considering exactly where i wanted to shift this time.

i had been rewatching the 3rd season of game of thrones, specifically that one scene where robb meets talisa in the aftermath of the battle. i hadn't been paying much attention, as I've already seen it before, but i was thinking about how little i see of people who shift to westeros. there might be people on amino who do, but so far i haven't seen much on tumblr or tiktok (if you do, dear god please recommend some people). and me, being the dumbass that i am, blindly decided to shift into westeros smack dab during the battle of the five kings, with a very bare script. mostly for shits and giggles, because i actually didn't think it would work.

and yes, i had accidentally shifted into the game of thrones universe. it might take me some time to go back considering the fact that i fucking died again and it's fucking far from fun. do understand that I'm not too keen on returning to a place where I'll get discriminated because of gender faster before i could even utter 'masculine toxicity'. or where I’d die faster from a tooth cavity because people there know no hygiene.

surprisingly, i had woken up inside a cottage. I'm not trying to offend anyone, just saying this as fact, but the room i was in clearly indicated that whoever lived or stayed there was poor. piss poor. i remember seeing dust everywhere, literally layers covering every fucking surface, and it had been so painful to look at, what with my inner clean freak flipping out. the room itself didn't even have much—it was literally just the bed i was on and a chair. there wasn't a window either, or at least, a proper one. just a makeshift curtain covering the hole in the wall. that's not even taking into account the amount of rot inside the wood. I'm not sure if those were termites i had seen—and god i want to gag, because whatever disgusting insect it was just...no. ugh. it's like trypophobia and meat muscle spasms combined. the wood itself was so dark and soggy, crawling—the wood was bubbling (IDK HOW TO CALL IT)—with those abominations, even i wouldn't want the soles of my shoes near it. (sue me, I'm overreacting but it's fucking nauseating). it, not them, i refuse to acknowledge those things. i didn’t even want to move, because waking up, and immediately seeing the ceiling utterly infested with them, just. god. my only consolation is that it wasn’t directly above me, just a few feet away, but it was there.

i took some time to stand up, trying very hard not to look in places where the things would be in, and examined myself. lo and behold, i was wearing the attire appropriate for the age. a loose white tunic, black trousers, a belt, and boots—the honest to goodness cloth kind. with laces. they’re one of the things that I’ve always wanted to try wearing, see what kind of difference they would make from modern boots, but that’s besides the point. the object that truly caught my attention was the silver dagger by the foot of the bed i previously lied upon. it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, just a plain dagger the size of my forearm, with a leather-wrapped hilt. but the reason why I’m putting emphasis on this weapon is that it’s the very thing that cemented the fact that i shifted. it was what pointed out to me, that yes, i finally did it. i was there. i may have teared up a bit at that point, and who could blame me? i touched the blade of the dagger, and when i saw that it didn’t disappear and that i could feel it—the coldness of the metal, its sturdiness, and every other chip on the blade—that’s when i broke down crying.

it’s an overwhelming yet content feeling, when you’ve been trying so hard to do something for so long, and you finally did it. it’s infectious.

after letting out a few happy sobs, i took some time to fix my appearance as best as i could with the use of the blade as a mirror (because there was nothing else i could use), and sheathed it on my belt. well, i didn’t sheath it per se, because there was no sheath, so i kinda just?? let it hang on my belt. granted it kinda hurt a bit, because it was slightly digging into the trousers, but i could have cared less because i wanted to do some exploring.

i went out of the bedroom and came to a kitchen. it looked abandoned, what with the clutter all over the damn place. pots and pans, some knives, the occasional candle, and dear god the food. the smell. I’d even say that this one was worse than the insects crawling inside the wood, because at least that one didn’t really stink. not that i could sense. but the expired food, fucking hell it was Putrid. with a capital P because yes it was that bad. just...just imagine not cleaning or replacing the goods inside your fridge for a year. that. except the food there wasn’t really refrigerated, so the odour would be around 6 times worse. i didn’t want to stay there longer than necessary, so i just went to the nearest door i could find—which was actually the only door there was. it led to a sitting room of some kind, and that’s being generous because it wasn’t that at all, not really. it was just a table and some chairs pushed up against each other. that’s not even taking into account the space in the area, because there was none at all. there wasn't much light to work around with either; the only reason i could see in the dark of the cottage is because of the small rays of sunlight that would seep from the cracks on the roof. following the sitting room was the exit of the house itself.

alright, I’ll just describe the house like this: it’s a one-storey cottage, with only 3 rooms. those 3 rooms include the bedroom, the kitchen, and the sitting room/dining area. there’s a branch that crashed into the roof, apparently, and there’s barely any light inside. there’s also little movement space. i may have actually started crying again if the outside looked at least a little bit better than the interior. but no, the place was surrounded by moss weeds (it’s not really that surprising), and that made me paranoid because what if there were snakes. or some other animal. or what other insects. if you want a reference image, just think of the gaunt shack from harry potter.

now. keep in mind that i shifted by accident. i didn’t really plan for the trip. i had zero survival skills, zero fighting ability, zero supplies, and zero medical knowledge. i had no money, no influence, no idea of the region or timeline; just the clothes i wore and a silver dagger as my only means of protection. i shifted into the equivalent of the medieval ages. into a world with some all-seeing tree fucker who could look into the past, present, or future, anytime and anywhere. so yes. i may have panicked and cried again. but it didn’t come to me to go back immediately, because i was still caught on the fact that i shifted. i didn’t want to waste a chance. the only other good thing that came out of my panicking was that i noticed the cottage stood near a creek. so yay, water. as much as i like forests, I’m not exactly fond of the danger just yet.

[this story is starting to become stale so i won’t bore you with any more unnecessary details. let’s just get straight to my...second death.]

i went to sit by the creekbank just after i had that moment of scare. i wasn’t even actively doing anything at that point, when it happened. i was literally just thinking, breathing, brooding, when some motherfucker decided to lunge at me. sue me for being inattentive, but i was in a pathetic state and i didn’t notice them. whoever it was knocked me over, and we both fell into the fucking creek. me, being the idiot that i am, started yelling and flailing around.

the thing wasn’t even deep—it literally just went to my ankles—but the rocks in the area had dug into my sides, and the dagger on my belt fell out of it. and stabbed into my right thigh. i don’t know how it happened. it just fell, i tried to grab it back, and i was tackled again. and i stabbed myself.

because i wasn’t falling into shock as much as when i got hit with that crossbow bolt, i felt it faster. it’s a burning kind of pain. not like the heat or fire kind of burning, more like the too much scrubbing at your skin when taking a bath type. being stabbed in your thigh is like being punched, only the hit area is much more narrow and it’s piercing. i know people deal with pain in different ways, and for me, in this reality, i deal with it by laughing. because while laughing doesn’t make physical pain any easier to deal with, it becomes easier to ignore. and thank whoever made the world that creeks are freshwater. [not that the dirt and little rocks digging into the area near the wound made it better]

i didn’t get a good look at the outfit of the person attacking me, so i didn’t know whether they were a bandit, or some wayward soldier, or what else. though i did see it was a man, so I’ll assume it’s a he (I’m only trying to be respectful). there was a beard and matted brown hair. as I’ve mentioned previously, I laugh whenever i get hurt. so when we fell into the water, and i accidentally stabbed myself, yes, i laughed. it was high and hysterical. the problem was the other guy didn’t think anything looked funny, and continued to brawl with me. we were just there, on the creek, trying to fight each other. i don’t even know why the fuck he started attacking or what the hell he wanted, just that he was. the only thing i could focus on was trying to breathe and stand up, and get the dagger out of my thigh—and it happened again.

the pain didn’t come as quickly as one would think, because it felt like a pinch more than anything else, but when it started to hurt, i looked back down and there was another blade, this time stuck in my rib. i couldn't move, because it was hindering my movement. that’s when i stopped trying to fight and started screaming, i could barely breathe and i could see and feel the blood going out, which just felt all sorts of wrong. it was worse than having the bolt in my head; i was more than aware and awake for this one, and there was much less shock. this one actually registered into my consciousness. the first thought after the initial freak-out that came to me was that the blades were cold, steadily getting warmer because of all the blood. it was more an ant bite in the beginning, and when it did register—all there had been was a burning, stinging feeling. i got stabbed in my left rib, somewhere around the upper area, just below the boob.

the rest of the...i wouldn't even be so bold to call it a fight, because it wasn’t and at the moment i just can’t help but feel irritated. because i didn’t know how to fight, and that cost me my life in another fucking reality. I’m dead again and this time it’s out of sheer helplessness and stupidity. needless to say, i lost track during the brawl and fell out cold soon after that, whether due to bleeding out or because my mind wanted to go back. and i am not going to be returning to there in some time, not until I’ve learned about fighting techniques in the game of thrones universe. I’m not squeamish, believe me—my hard drive’s almost full of action and horror movies. I’ve enjoyed them from time to time. but seeing the blood and gore on screen and seeing it in real life are two entirely different things. it’s not as cool or as romanticising as it is on the media.