#hotpie

[aryasheretic]

Honestly they’re so gendrya, like look at them and tell me that’s not gendry and Arya (and hotpie), some of my absolute favorite face claims AND locklyle is so gendrya coded??? I love them so much

[thegartenofeaten]

First Pie. First Round. First game. Go Pies! 🥧⚫️⚪️🏟️ #afl #mcg #fourntwenty #pie #hotpie #footy #round1 #collingwood #geelong #cmonpies https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp4oLnRP_Yh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[fromstormsend]

“And what of the direwolf?” she called after him. “What of the beast that savaged your son?” The king stopped, turned back, frowned. “I’d forgotten about the damned wolf.” -AGOT Eddard III

"Last night Hot Pie asked me if I heard you yell Winterfell back at the holdfast, when we were all fighting on the wall." "I never did!" (…) “I told Hot Pie he should clean the wax out of his ears, that all you yelled was Go to hell! If he asks you, you better say the same.” -ACOK Arya VIII

Gendry not just took his look after his father but also his wordplay skills :D

[bloomingdarkgarden]

time to watch game of thrones for the 186th time and slowly spin into madness and joy and visceral hatred and adoration and yes we detest the end but idc there's still high points and fuck do u ever just miss hotpie because i would still s l a u g h t e r his enemies any night of the gd week ok.

love u hotpie.

u deserved the iron throne honey.

[allmusic]

AllMusic Staff Pick Various Artists More Original Raw Soul

Taken from the "vaults" of Hotpie & Candy Records, More Original Raw Soul appears to be a just-uncovered archival find of rare '70s uncut James Brown-style funk. The telltale fat bass and porno wah-wah guitar, augmented by golden horn sections and gritty Hammond organ vamps, are straight out of the era of denim suits and wide lapels.

- Zac Johnson

[seaglaecwif]

Why are people still arguing about which A Song of Ice and Fire characters are the most righteous? Guys, the whole point is that no one is righteous and everyone is terrible. Even your precious, Daenerys....

Stop trying to put them on a moral high ground that doesn't exist.

[sherlokiness]

Jonsa as the last card

Not to sound delusional but I think jonsa is GRRM's trump card in the books. We were never meant to have them in the show. The author has got to have an ace up his sleeves, right? What convinces me of this is the changed dialogue between Arya and Ned during the 1st season. The book goes "You will marry a King..." to which Arya replies "No, that's Sansa" while the show's version was "You will marry a lord..." to which Arya says "No, that's not me."

Some say this was just a leftover hint from the og outline bc why would Ned say Arya will marry a King? There can only be one and Joffrey is already betrothed to Sansa. Well ofc I'd beg to differ. It'll be abandoned foreshadowing if one disregards Arya's response. Did you know that Abraham Daniel who adapted GRRM's graphic novel wanted to change what he deemed to be a throwaway line but GRRM refused bc it was a clue to suggest the endgame in ADoS?

There was one scene I had to rework because there's a particular line of dialog -- and you wouldn't know it to look at -- that's important in the last scene of "A Dream of Spring."

I have a meta about this but the link has been lost to time. 💀 So it's part of a dialog, inconspicuous, and should be before ACoK since only AGoT adaptation has been confirmed by that time.

The show had to rewrite it to make sense bc even so many readers found it perplexing but the comics had it exactly right.Look, it even has Arya winking perhaps as a nod to the audience.

"Not all," said Jaime. "Lord Eddard's daughters live. One has just been wed. The other …" Brienne, where are you? Have you found her? "… if the gods are good, she'll forget she was a Stark. She'll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall."

I believe this is a nod by the author to make us think of the "No, that's Sansa" line bc here it's Arya who knows Gendry and Hotpie. If we take Jamie's line to be the opposite, can we infer that Sansa will never forget she's a Stark? Moreover,she will not marry a nobody and always need to fear her children will end up like Aegon- Rhaegar's heir.

If Arya's line comes true then the last scene will be of Sansa and Jon with their children. My ideal would be Sansa singing a lullaby to her baby with Jon by her side. It's a callback to the end of the first book's "music of dragons" where music refers to cries of newly hatched dragons. It also makes us think of Jon's memory of Sansa before his death.

I'm not saying the baby's lullaby is the song of ice and fire but...🫣🫣🫣 Baby+Song+Couple of a Stark and Targ

[fadingdaggerr]

close to home

part one | part two | part three | part four

pairing: brienne of tarth x gn!reader

summary: continuation of a piece of home now set in mid-late season 4 when brienne is searching for arya and sansa, about a year and a half since the first chapter.

warnings: got s3-4 spoilers, canon typical violence but mostly in conversation, descriptions of injuries and death (brief), the classic lesbian ‘dancing around each other’

note: i told ya it would be slowburn :) sorry for the slow updates, college sucks and i am so behind because i keep getting overwhelmed and procrastinating

the news the king joffrey’s demise spread across the kingdoms with fury. little birds of your own running to send you word, quick hands tying notes to the bird. when a raven reached the camp, larkin was bobbing and weaving through the crowd. the red seal meant trouble, the kind that would likely cause the vein in your forehead to bulge and you to probably break something.

running into the tent, he comes to a screeching halt, a meeting progressive in front of him. your eyes look at him, he waves the notes, red seal on display. you wave him over frantically, meeting pausing just as fast as larkin entered.

commander-

the king is dead. poisoned. not sure who yet, but lord tyrion blamed. lady sansa missing. more to follow. suggest a move north.

- eoin

you read the note aloud, silence followed, everyone stunned. the glass to your right was thrown against the ground. this meant war was coming. winter was already drawing closer, but bloodshed was soon to come. the lannisters would never let this go.

eoin knew well of what move you’d make, you began the move north. it was slow, a complicated path to ward off unwanted followers. the weeks grew long, the desperation you felt for another raven was palpable. the further north we traveled, the harder it was word easily and discreetly.

orion brings a scroll, red wax, cloud pressed in.

commander-

your lady knight is leaving king’s landing within the week, looking for ladies sansa and arya. lannister man gave her a sword. moving north with a squire.

- rahim

the second you read the words ‘lady knight’ in fast., messy handwriting, your hands gripped the parchment a little tighter. a squire? had she been knighted, had they rightfully acknowledged her at last? you opt to ignore the use of ‘your’ in front of her nickname. instead you write a response, adding updated travel routes that will be followed, as well as advising the use of coded messages from now on. the scroll was passed to orion with directions of a new bird to land towards the east side of the city.

—

leaving the tavern with podrick and the wolf-shaped bread from hotpie left brienne with some semblance of hope. she could not save lady catelyn, but she could fulfill her promise and protect her daughters. if she ever found the bloody devils.

“where to now, my lady?” podrick asked, despite knowing the answer.

“north. if sansa fled, she’ll go somewhere familiar, to someone she trusts,” brienne was certain, and podrick nodded. he had only been under her service for a short time, but he had already gained large amounts of respect for her.

so north they went, and went, and went. brienne had been slowly teaching podrick to sword fight. he was nowhere near being able to defend himself, but the spirit was there. when the practice was over, they’d eat in silence. brienne wiped off her small knife, tucking it next to the horn that stayed in her storage. she hadn’t unraveled the sheathed dagger that was carefully knotted around the horn, afraid of acknowledging it, but keeping it near.

two months into her travels, she is awoken while stars still paint the sky. she rubs her eyes, growing slightly, she almost falls back asleep, assuming the noise was podrick or imaginary. but there it is again.

she sits up, hand automatically falling on her weapon. a blaring, deep in the woods. it’s far away, so the sound just barely reaching her ears. one more faint sound, then silence. and it remains. she lays back down, shaking her head to toss away the distractions. ‘probably some locals,’ she muses to herself, before falling asleep once again.

another month passes, and brienne swears she is being watched. she’s positive it isn’t her squire, he minds his business, and his stares don’t feel this imposing. a rustle in the trees above her caught her attention, but she saw nothing, she assumed it was animals of the forest. she looks around, but there’s still nothing. no one. she’s going crazy, is all she can think. ‘all this stark ladies business has driven me mad!’

—

a younger man in your company, dorin, comes rushing through the crowd, he’s walking, although very fast. he gracefully dodges each person, bumping into no one, uttering no words as he slithers between them.

he silently approaches you as you’re sitting on your desk. he likes to give people a scare when he can, but you notice him, turning and catching him off guard.

“what can i do you for, dorin?” you say without looking at him, smirking to yourself as you look a potential supply routes.

he clears his throat, “i spotted a tall woman, blonde. accompanied by a man, quite a bit shorter than the woman, with brown hair. a horse for each. and quite the fancy sword on her hip, but i could only see the hilt. not well given my altitude, still it looked beautifully crafted.” dorin’s reports always had perfect detail, he had climbing expertise, and he didn’t ask question as to why you had him survey the woods. he was perfect for the job.

“thank you dorin, that’ll be all. send ragnall to me on your way out,” you say diplomatically, hiding the giddiness that filled your chest.

“you called?” ragnall stood in the entrance.

you swing so your legs dangle off the desktop, “yes. gather two others and please nicely escort the travelers one hour east to of our camp. nicely. got it?” you raise and eyebrow.

“yes, commander,” he grumbles, hoping for something more exciting, but heads to follow orders. you jump off the desk, and move just outside the tent.

“boy!” you call out, hands cupped around your mouth. less than twenty seconds, and larkin was headed to you, stopping just before you. “ready two cots and make way for two horses, we got visitors in two,” and he’s off. and you’re patiently waiting in your tent, hands twisting and pulling at each other in your lap.

—

brienne was washing up when she heard podrick yell for her, she is quick to come to his aid. sword drawn, she stands protectively in front of podrick.

“what is your business here?” she asks, eyes stern and angry.

“lady brienne, we’re here to escort you to camp,” ragnall speaks first, hoping she’ll recognize him best. her sword immediately slides back into her scabbard.

the entire walk back to the camp her hands were sweating. she explained to pod meeting you with jaime, and how she found out about the skyforth. he listens carefully, and she’s careful not to talk to much about you. she does mention you’re from tarth, and that it was nice to know someone from there, easily explaining away any overflowing joy.

she saw the tents growing closer, the guards closest the opening moving to make way for everyone and the horses. her eyes darted around for the largest tent, with the large table and the desk you sat on instead of at. their horses were taking over to the others with a quick promise of their belongings being brought to their own tent. podrick looked to her for confirmation, she assured him it was okay, she trusted these men and their commander.

ragnall led her to the tent she had she looking for, her eyes unblinking as they approached. they stopped as ragnall lowered his head to enter the tent to announce their presence. she heard your voice say something, but couldn’t make it out. still, she bit back a smile, podrick did not notice.

ragnall’s arms opened the curtain. she took a breath and steadied her mind quickly, ducking into the tent, podrick behind her.

you. all black attire as she had assumed was your typical choice, your cour cloak was draped across a chair. you looked less imposing without it, but she knew that was not the case. you’re deadly, just like her, fierce like her, angry like her. but she knew you were soft underneath, she had seen it with larkin and a little with herself.

brienne. clad in castle armor, only lacking lannister lions on the pauldrons. a lion’s head pommel on her sword mad your fingers twitch, questions filled your head. all of them became fuzzy when your eyes moved to her face. her hair was lighter from the sun exposure of travel, freckles blooming on her cheeks. you took in a deep breath.

“brienne of tarth,” you step forward, arm extended to shake. she does so quickly, smiling gently.

“commander. let me introduce you to my traveling comp-” she hears him clear his throat behind her, “my squire, podrick.”

he sticks his arm out to you with a smile, but you speak before him, “podrick payne.” you shake is arm, chuckling at his shock of you knowing his name. you knew of him, your little birds had told you all about pod. and by just looking at him, you liked him already, he’s much better than not-so-pompous and thinks-he’s-pretty.

“it’s nice you have you back, lady brienne. and with a squire no less. have your talents finally been appreciated by the crown?” you ask with genuinely.

she lets out a dry laugh, “no, they haven’t. the armor and sword were a gift, to help me keep my promise to the late lady catelyn.”

“i was heartbroken to hear of her death. we only met once, but she was a kind and fierce woman. i pray to the gods for her and her children,” you look at the floor as you speak, then to brienne, “does your new sword have a name?”

she smiles, excited to speak of her new weapon, “oathkeeper.”

“a good title for both you and your sword,” she’s too stunned to respond, “hungry?” podrick nods happily.

—

podrick asks you loads of questions, most of which with a full mouth, you happily answer. after a minute, your eyes widen, dropping your fork as you scramble from the table. brienne’s thoughts catch up with yours. larkin. she hears your usual call for him.

before you’re even back at the table the boy is running in, faster than lightning. he had a huge, goofy smile on his face. brienne was shocked to see the boy a whole head taller since she had last seen him, no longer such a little boy.

“lady brienne!” he yells excitedly, almost running to hug her but sticks with sticking his arm out quickly. she returns it her equal passion.

“how are you larkin? how’s your training going?” she asks with real, genuine curiosity. you watched with a soft smile as he spoke with excitement, talking about everything and anything. brienne listened intently, nodding and asking questions. podrick noticed your smile, but only got half the reason.

“he your son?” he asks, no food in his mouth this go around.

you’re about to speak when you’re cut off by larkin, “pretty much.” your heart almost explodes in that moment, you won’t cry, you can’t, not until you’re alone. your nose twitches, and you grab your cup and large drink. brienne takes note of your rapid blinking that pushed back a wave of tears.

“um, larkin. you didn’t introduce yourself to podrick here, he used to squire for lord tyrion,” you change the subject to save your ego. podrick looks to brienne, who looks at you. how did you know that? she hadn’t told you that.

“wait, for the i-” now is your turn to cut off larkin.

“aye! don’t call him that boy, he doesn’t like it,” you look to brienne, “i know everything. little birds, you know this,” you read hers and pod’s faces easily. larkin had a million questions and so many things to say, and podrick was matching his enthusiasm.

“go show podrick the practice yard, he’s learning to sword fight as well,” you say, “you can talk all you want down there, give him a tour.” they leave immediately, even twice his age, pod had a childlike air about him.

there was tension in the silence, brienne wanted to break it, “how have you been?”

i swallowed and took a deep breath, “we’ve been traveling north, trying to stay as far away from the mess in king’s landing as possible. larkin told you about training, it’s just been moving i guess.”

“not what i asked. how have you been?” she leans towards you.

you can hardly look at her, “would it be bad to say ‘i have no fucking idea’?” you rotate the glass in your hand.

“no, i understand. i have been in the same position as of late,” she honest in her words. she’s felt a hole in the center of her chest all her life, one that felt like it was slowly filling in your presence.

“it’s good to see you again, brienne of tarth,” your eyes look into hers. she looks back.

“it’s good you see as well, no name of tarth,” she jests. “i believe i was promised your name upon our next meeting.”

“and i recall saying ‘maybe next time,’ did i not?” you get up from the table. she follows.

you walk down to her tent, giving her space to remove her armor, she knew it wasn’t necessary here. she kept her sword close, grounded by the security and weight of it against her hip. she emerges in her dark linen pants and blue tunic, and you’re sure her eyes couldn’t get any more blue. you kept your staring to a minimum, turning to continue the stroll. brienne stayed behind you for a moment, watching you now. your hair longer, not bothering to cut it while you traveled, the new scar on the back of your neck, disappearing underneath the collar of your shirt.

when she reached your side again, she took a second to take in your profile. the bags under your eyes visible, eyes straight ahead, jaw set. the world had been cruel since you last met, she could see that much. wooden swords clashing together broke her attention, seeing podrick and larkin practicing together. you and brienne both chuckled at larkin’s noticeable higher skill.

you kept walking, letting ‘the boys have their fun.’ you sat at the fire pit, brienne sits on the same log as you this time. you. it’s sit in comfortable silence now. she feels your staring, eyes fixed on left ear. your eyes traced the shell, where there was a light scar from your first encounter. she turned to face you, you look away, facing the fire once again.

“i like it, you know. the scar. it’s a nice reminder,” she says.

you laugh, “you like that i threw a dagger at you?”

“not at all. i like that i won’t forget meeting you.”

you liked this as well, a permanent reminder of you with her. you only wish you had more that memories to remember her. you relied on memories of the flames lighting up her face, orange fire making her turn golden. you thought about her often when you couldn’t sleep, which seemed to be most nights as of late.

“you seemed to have accidentally left something in my stores,” she jokes.

“i was wondering when you’d mention that,” you sound nervous, and you continue quietly, “i was hoping you may hear the horns one and respond.”

it all made sense. she had heard you a month ago, calling, sending word to others, it was a call to bring others to you. to bring them home. she didn’t mention it, not wanting you to know she had failed you.

“i found my way regardless. how did you find me?”

“dorin. he’s quite the climber,” you watched her face twist, then fall. she had felt herself being watched the last time she was here, she never thought you’d have spies in the trees. you messengers in the capital being so well hidden made more sense.

“i’d gotten word of a certain lady knight leaving king’s landing, with a squire, no less. we were already headed north, as were you. i hoped our paths would cross, and maybe i willed it myself,” your voice is happy, but you still don’t look at her. she didn’t want to admit that your words had her heart racing, that you made her weak.

“i’m glad you did,” and you both just enjoy each other’s company.

supper comes, and podrick and larkin return, sweaty and covered in dirt. larkin stands next to the table as podrick moves fo sit down.

“were you raised by pigs?” you question. “go wash that shit off you before either of you sits down in one of my chairs,” larkin is quick to run at the aspect of sitting with everyone. brienne tilts her head towards podrick, he turns and follows the other boy.

“and they say women are the ones that who need orders to follow,” brienne says, and you laugh heartily. she bathes in the sound, a sound she caused. she wanted to hear your laugh again and again, and even more after that.

you look at her from across the table, face unreadable, “will you leave tomorrow?”

if her heart wasn’t already racing, oh gods would it be running for it’s life. she suppresses a shakiness that is migrating from her hands to her voice, “i think pod and i are quite weary from our travels, we may stay an extra night. just so we’re well-rested, of course.”

“of course,” you smile.

—

in the morning hours, brienne is greeted with a sight that almost tears her lungs from her chest. you were dressed down, no longer in your uniform. instead, black pants and grey tunic rested upon you, tunic untied at the top. your hair was wet, dampening the collar of your shirt. a dagger was still tethered to your thigh, you were never without one it seemed, an extension of you. you looked calm, peaceful even. no one else was awake, you had no responsibilities right now.

she approaches you, hoping you wouldn’t catch her admiring you. your content face grows a smile, crinkles around your eyes deepening. brienne was beautiful. no one could convince you otherwise, if they disagreed they must be blind, or dense, or both. she’s wearing a darker blue tunic, making her eyes look brighter. the sapphire in her irises encrusting your heart.

“good morning, commander,” she says slyly.

“good morning, lady brienne. sleep well?” you meet her halfway, only about a foot of space between you both. you smelled like honey and pine.

“best sleep i’ve had in months, truly. this is the first bed that hasn’t been made of leave or reeked of piss,” she says dryly, humor evident in her eyes.

“i’m glad. last you were here, you couldn’t sleep. i guess it’s because you’re no longer around strangers.”

“definitely not. except for you, i still haven’t got your name,” she wants to know, no, needs to know. she wants to say your name, to think of you more than just ‘the commander.’

you wanted to hear her say your name, but years of hiding had made your skin thick and your distrust in people thicker. you trusted her, but not the rest. “soon,” is all you say. she takes this answer, knowing she wouldn’t get another for a while.

you move away from her, eyes still on her face. she followed as you began walking, all the way to the tree line. you looked at her, silently asking if she wanted to come with you. she nodded, she thinks she’d follow you anywhere.

walking in the woods with you was peaceful. the crunching of sticks beneath you, the wet leaves dampening the sound of your footsteps. everything is quite, light, pretty. brienne feels like she left her stresses behind her at the tree line, all her doubts were in the tall grass. she stands behind as watches as you move slowly, crouching behind a tree, your movements carry no noise. she tries to move closer, but you look at her sharply, and she stays still. she watches you move quickly, hand going to your ankle, dagger out and thrown quickly. a large bird falls from branch across the stream.

you spring up from your spot, quickly and expertly crossing over the stream on slippery stones to retrieve the bird. you come back the way you left, holding up your prize to brienne, a satisfied smile on your face.

“breakfast for two, m’lady?” you ask with a bow, then begin walking. she laughs at your words, following you back to camp.

“how could i say no to that?”

getting back to camp meant getting back when everyone had risen. podrick was with larkin again, both shooting arrows into hay bale targets, both missing miserably. the bird was grabbed by a man who strolled by, yelling ‘gimme an hour’ over his shoulder. the camp was lively, brienne smiled to herself. it felt like home.

—

nightfall reached the camp, different groups stay around the different fires. the chatting, laughter, and music carried brienne around as she searched for you. after breakfast you had disappeared to discuss future plans with the leading men of skyforth, leaving brienne to fill the time without you. she wished she could have gotten more time to see the green of the forest paint your face. she almost wished you had been unsuccessful in your hunt, selfishly wishing she could have wandered beside you for just a moment longer. what has gotten into me?

she sits at fire, losing herself in the flames. she watches the dancing of light a little longer, feeling someone’s presence. she doesn’t have to look to know it’s you, but she does anyways, just to see you. you look at her just as intently, sitting to her left.

she meets your eyes, one concealed in darkness, the other shining in the fire’s light. she looks back to the flames. your eyes stay on her, she feels them searching her, the attention crawling on her like a gentle ladybug. her feels ears warm as she feels your eyes stay there, she blames it on the fire. that is until she sees a hand slowly rising to the shell of her ear. your fingers graze over her scar with a feather-light touch, the scar you put there. you were so gentle, brienne almost thought she was imagining it. she turned and look at your face, lips turned down, crease between your eyebrows prominent. you were ashamed of yourself for hurting her, no matter what she said earlier.

brienne’s hand comes to grab the one by her ear, holding your hand to display your scarred knuckles to her. she could she little ones around your fingers, faded and old, likely from your days before being a master of the dagger. she liked those ones, but the deeper ones, she hated.

“ask whatever you want,” you spoke softly, “i can feel your mind working, can practically see it too.”

her thumb runs over your knuckles, a question in itself. you answered, “most are from fighting, first one was when i was was taken from tarth, last was about two months after you parted. i try to keep my distance, but sometimes i’m impatient.”

she laughs lightly, trying not to break this quiet moment. she’s already about to burst at the seams from holding your hand, and you’re in the same condition in your own mind. you’re so focused on not shaking, that your haven’t stopped staring at her eyes in the orange glow. they were crystalized sapphire seas gifted to her, the only one worthy enough to be trusted.

“which one was the worst?” brienne asks, her voice is careful. you wince are the thought, pulling your hand from hers to move your cloak away and lift your tunic. just below your left ribs was a large, jagged scar, it was clear that the injury had been deep. brienne resists the urge to trace your scar as you did hers, her hands twitching.

you lower the tunic back down, “we got raided four years ago. assholes just went straight for the kids, so i threw myself in there. got four out of five down, last one got me with my own blade, took it from my back.” you take a deep breath, “he went for the kids, so i took the knife out and slit his throat. larkin and two others had to carry me out to the healers. they were just little babes, they shouldn’t have had to do that.”

brienne places a hand on your knee giving it squeeze, “they were able to save you because you saved them. they know you’d never let anything happen to them.” your hand sits atop hers and squeezes back, a silent ‘thank you.’

“i may ask you anything?” she clarifies, already knowing what she needs to know. the only thing she had been thinking about for a year.

you lean forward ever-so-slightly and whisper, “anything.”

“what’s your name?” she whispers back, she almost feels like she’s learning your deepest, most damning secret.

you close your eyes and huff a laugh through your nose, you knew she’d ask. you look back up to answer, but a large gust of laughter bursts your bubble. you’re both suddenly aware of other people moving closer. drinking hour has begun for the men, and the children are playing pretend with the practice swords. podrick was sitting with everyone, pretending he hadn’t been watching you and brienne every now and then, only being able to you slightly around her shoulder.

as everyone’s approaching the fire, you whisper the answer she’s being dying for. she reads your lips, going to test the name on her own tongue. your hand covers her mouth, free hand making a shushing motion, laughing behind your finger. you can feel her grin beneath your hand and it overwhelms you. you quickly take away your hand.

podrick sits himself on a log near you both, brienne’s eyes snap to him and are practically screaming ‘not a word.’ he just takes a sip of ale. ragnall brings you and brienne each a drink. he bends down to speak to you quietly, his words only traveling to your ears.

“don’t get too attached, commander. she’s here for bed and meal, nothing else. she’s leaving tomorrow and war is brewing,” you shove him harshly away from you, and he walks away, knowing you’d tell him to ‘piss off’ anyways. you visibly deflate, but take a strong sip to drown his words. brienne is enraged by him taking your smile so quickly, how quickly doubt clouded your eyes from his words. she wants to ask, but you shake your head.

“it’s nothing, he’s a killjoy,” you say as if it were nothing, but the shake of your leg gave you away. you press you palm into your knee to still it’s motion, brienne is confident she now despises ragnall. she’s not the only one who notices your mood plummet, because before she can even think of what to do, larkin jogs over.

“commander, could we do dagger practice? i want to learn throwing in the dark,” he tugs the sleeve of your upper arm. you stand immediately, arm wrapping around him shoulder.

“pinch me i’m dreaming,” you say as you squeeze the boy into you, hugging him tightly as he laughs, “did i just hear that you want to throw daggers? willingly?” you pull away and pretend to inspect him, angling his head is odd directions as he laughs, “are you sure you aren’t a witch, a shapeshifter?”

brienne watches the scene before her with a smile. how easily your spirits were lifted by someone you loved, especially this parental love you felt for larkin. she could never make you smile this much, she knows that larkin is the only one who can, but she wants to get close regardless. podrick watches brienne look at you, he finds himself sad for her that they have to leave in the morning. he knows there’s something more, and he knows brienne will ignore it as long as possible.

larkin begins to drag you, your voice carries over your shoulder, “you two coming or not?”

the four of you go to the targets. your demeanor changes from parent to teacher quite quickly. podrick attempts to throw into the target as well, missing terribly, while larkin’s land on the outer rings. yours create a horizontal line, one in the middle and one on each side. brienne throws a single dagger, she hits the target towards the bottom, but ‘at least hit she hit it,’ as pod grumbled put it.

larkin headed off to bed as the sky became devoid of light, podrick went for another drink and to warm by the fire. this left you and brienne at the targets. she watched you throw dagger after dagger, each hitting its destination as if you were moving it with your mind. you had covered the target almost completely, none of the daggers touching. she walked with you to retrieve them all, helping you silently.

“what did ragnall say to you?” she asks, breaking the tense silence. you paused for a moment, then continued.

“nothing of importance. he’s all work, no fun,” you grunt as you pull the center dagger out. the ones in the center were deep, some were down to the wood in the middle of the targets. “i’m sorry, i just… he’s an ass, and he knows how to make me cross,” is all you can say.

“i’ve got my own one of those,” brienne jests, trying to lift the mood.

“ah yes, but he’s all the way in king’s landing. mine is practically up my ass every time i think about sitting down,” you point a knife at him from across the camp, pretending to throw it, “prick.”

she laughs at your childish behaviors, “i think we should head back to everyone else.”

you roll your eyes, “and i think that if i’m within five feet of that ferret, i’ll choke him. i’ll stay right here.” brienne barks a laugh at your words, moving to grab a torch off the side of a nearby tent to light the small fire pit by the targets.

“would anyone question you for doing so? you’re the commander,” she says with a joking tone.

“probably not, but don’t tempt me, lady brienne. i have very little self-control,” you say back, sitting down next to the fire. brienne’s mouth shuts quickly, and she moves to sit with you.

she blames the heat rushing to her cheeks on the flames once again. she grows brave and responds, eyes coming back to your face, “maybe i should continue then.” she smiles at your eyes lighting up.

brienne’s mouth moves faster than her mind, “what did you mean the time we saw each other?”

your eyes fell to your lap, “i said a lot of things, be more specific.”

“that you know your own thoughts,” she wants to how if you see her the same as she sees you, all encompassing.

“stories people make up, men make up, when they feel small, are nothing of importance. i’ve met you, spoken to you, seen you,” your words make brienne feel a little sick, “so far the only truly thing they’ve said is that you’re tall, and from tarth. two things!” she looks at her hands, her mind raging against her.

you lean and grab her hand, “you are not a beast,” she looks at you, “or ugly, or any of that shit they dare say about you. they’re intimidated by you, you’re powerful and alluring,” you’re speaking from your heart it seems, “if you asked me, i would say you’re quite beautiful, perhaps handsome even.”

brienne tried not to think about it much as she fell asleep. she definitely didn’t think about you holding her hand and calling her beautiful and handsome. or the shy smile you gave her that made her heart squeeze in her chest, breath shaking with each exhale. or how you held her hand for an hour until you got up to smother the fire. or how you walked her to her tent and said goodnight to her quietly, like it was a secret message from you to her. or how you looked back as you walked away, lingering there for a moment.

—

the next morning, you stare at the roof of your tent for gods know how long. if you didn’t leave the tent, she wouldn’t go, right? of course she would, she has an oath to keep, a you tell your selfish mind. you rise, putting on your uniform, the weight of your cloak holding you together.

once you step out of your private tent, larkin is by your side in minutes. he’s quiet, much like last time. you had both grown fond of brienne, and he now had a friend in podrick, making this goodbye harder. your arm sits around his shoulders, muttering to him as you walked around to get breakfast.

larkin’s mood lifts upon seeing his new friend, jogging over to pod and talking animatedly. brienne was sitting a bit away, lost in thought as she ate. you looked her for a moment, taking in the sight of the morning sun casting a dream of light across her face, lighting her up like an angel. you moved to go sit with her, grabbing a pear from the center of a tablet you passed. you sit across from her, and bite into your snack as you wait for her to notice you.

brienne here’s a soft crunch near her, head rising until her eyes meet you. tired eyes, pear in hand, hair still down, you were quite a sight to her. she just smiled lightly while looking at you, you returned it. neither of you spoke, just sitting together, enjoying the last moments before she departed.

you feel eyes on you, turning to see ragnall with pointed eyes, staring holes into your skull. brienne sees your brows furrow, hand going to your ankle. before she can even say ‘don’t,’ a dagger flies through the air and buries itself into the beam he’s resting against, only a hair above his head.

“pay mind to your own business, ya owl-looking fuck. blink once in a while, won’t you?” you seethe, and brienne sees a similar anger from the first time she met you and smiles to herself. the men around ragnall laugh at your comment, one pulling the dagger out and bringing it to you with a ‘nice one.’

brienne finishes her food as you slowly finish your pear. you leave the food tent walking towards the horses, and she follows behind you. your hand comes up to the face of a light brown horse with white splotches across him, he nibbles at you hand in greeting. you grab a folded parchment, grabbing her hand and placing it there, palm flat over it.

“these are preliminary travel routes. they’ll probably change, but you’ll probably still be able to track us down. if- if you wan- if you needed to,” you pull your hands away, locking them behind your back.

brienne looked at the parchment, then you. her voice is soft, “thank you. maybe one day it won’t come to tracking each other down.”

“maybe there will be a time where we travel with each other instead of away,” you almost mumble. brienne’s heart almost couldn’t take it, the way you stared at your feet while you spoke and fluttered your eyelashes. gods, i hope so.

“maybe,” she says back, eyes never leaving you.

saying goodbye to you was going to be harder than last time, she didn’t want to say anything. she wishes she had left before you woke up, so you wouldn’t be able to see the homesickness in her eyes as she got further from you. she lead her horse to the front of the camp while you lead podrick’s, eyes catching each other’s every now and then.

larkin was with podrick, listening closely to whatever he had to say. you looked to brienne, “use the horn, will you? if i start following you now, you’ll never get rid of me.”

she smiles at your words, her voice speaks lowly, “who said i was opposed to that?” your brow raises, eyes looking directly into her. you’re about to comment back, but podrick and larkin make their way over.

you settle for, “goodbye, lady brienne,” you turn, “podrick. safe travels to you both, may we see each other again soon.”

she and podrick hoist themselves onto their horses. she looks at you, her eyes raking over your face, you had hardly slept either it seems.

“thank you, commander,” she smiles tightly, “i’m sure you’ll find a way to keep an eye on us.”

you laugh, “who says i don’t already?”

you approach her horse, petting him gently and you speak to brienne, “i mean it, use that horn if there’s any trouble, if you need anything. even just a meal and a bed, doesn’t have to be battle. please, just… just use the damn horn.”

she leans closer to you, “i promise you,” you’re trying so hard not to faint from the closeness, “and i don’t break promises.”

i said slowburn did i not? also if anyone else would like to be tagged in part 3 (there might be a part 4) just leave a lil comment on here :) feed back appreciated, love ya

tags: @another-unoriginal-username @the-bagel24

[aelyxmagnus]

Aight you guys voted for this passage so I shall analyze it.

“Gendry was having almost as bad a time of it as Hot Pie, though he was too stubborn to complain. He sat awkwardly in the saddle, a determined look on his face beneath his shaggy black hair, but Arya could tell he was no horseman. I should have remembered, she thought to herself. She had been riding as long as she could remember, ponies when she was little and later horses, but Gendry and Hot Pie were city-born, and in the city smallfolk walked. Yoren had given them mounts when he took them from King's Landing, but sitting on a donkey and plodding up the kingsroad behind a wagon was one thing. Guiding a hunting horse through wild woods and burned fields was something else.

She would make much better time on her own, Arya knew, but she could not leave them. They were her pack, her friends, the only living friends that remained to her, and if not for her they would still be safe at Harrenhal, Gendry sweating at his forge and Hot Pie in the kitchens. If the Mummers catch us, I'll tell them that I'm Ned Stark's daughter and sister to the King in the North. I'll command them to take me to my brother, and to do no harm to Hot Pie and Gendry. They might not believe her, though, and even if they did . . . Lord Bolton was her brother's bannerman, but he frightened her all the same. I won't let them take us, she vowed silently, reaching back over her shoulder to touch the hilt of the sword that Gendry had stolen for her. I won't.”

First of all, we see Arya immediately realizing that Gendry is just as unused to horses as Hot Pie, just tougher. And here thanks to the class consciousness she has gained ever since LF’s coup against Ned to her having to run to realize that smallfolk, not being able to afford horses, are likely to be much worse horse riders than her.

After realizing this, she thinks about how abandoning them would be much better for her escape, but then immediately rejects the thought, they are her pack, but notice how she does not put the word ‘new’ in front of it. To her, this pack of Gendry and Hotpie is simply a part of her pack, which includes everyone she ever knew from Winterfell, from Old nan to Gage and Mikken and even Sansa. I doubt Hot Pie or Gendry either would find any reason to think of themselves as a part of this pack, composed of so many people they don’t know. This also shows how she does not understand the idea of changing one’s pack, a concept she still has problems with. This inability to understand that people can change their packs leads to a lot of anger at Harwin for switching to the BwB. Due to Ned’s upbringing of his children to think well of the NW, she considers them also as a sort of extension to the pack, and therefore Dareon is a traitor to the pack and must be killed. Even in Mercy, where she kills Raff for his murder of Lommy, a large part of her wanting revenge for Lommy but less so for other random smallfolk who got killed by Lannister guards on her long march to Harrenhal is because Lommy was part of her pack, no matter for how short a time. This shows that even after losing her eyesight and her face, she is still at heart of her old pack.

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Masterlist of my fics so far

Forgot how frustrating writing was but also how much I used to love it (I was churning out fanfics every other day when I was 14 lmaooo)

A lot of them I genuinely pulled out of my ass, a few I had to entirely rewrite before publishing on here and a couple are unfinished BUT this is them! It's a wide variety (Mostly House of The Dragon, my current obsession, but there's other fandoms too!)

Not This Time

A short, Cregan Stark-centric drabble about his grief during Jacaerys' visit to Winterfell. This is a sad, doomed-by-the-narrative fic.

A Piece Of Home

A oneshot Aemond Targaryen X Yi Ti OC fic. Nothing but cute and peaceful domestic fluff!

Come Go With Me

An extremely cheesy, corny, Michael Gavey oneshot where he meets his dream girl at the bread and butter, 'ol reliable of every meet-cute fanfiction: a coffee shop. I love it tho! Tried my best to keep Michael's personality canon compliant (imo)

Life Eternal

A multi-chatper hotd fic based off another incredible hotd fic (which I highly recommend), Second Sons by @avengingangelfanfic .

Status: unfinished

The Lesson

A short Rhaemond (Rhaena X Aemond) drabble where Aemond basically openly simps for his wife Rhaena via caring for her hair and has...issues with how some men perceive that as demeaning. So he handles it lol

Untitled Aemond X Rhaena fic

Pure fluff. I never gave this a title, but all the same here is the summary: Pregnant Rhaena craves limes/lime-flavored things so her husband Aemond of course does everything he can, causing innkeeper Hotpie some difficulties in the process. Hotpie is actually the star of this fic lmao

Untitled Aemond X Rhaena fic 2

More random Rhaemond fluff. A no dance of dragons AU where everyone gets along, the lovely couple is at a ball having a discussion on when is the appropriate time to say the "L" word to someone.

A Keen Eye

A mini Aemond x Rhaena fic that they aren't actually in but it's still about them! It's a bunch of highborn girls gossiping about their marriage.

Untitled Daemon X Rhea Royce fluff

Exactly what it says on the tin. Not really a coherent story but little snippets of their life together if their marriage had been a happy one.

Spillways

A multi-chapter The Gilded Age fic featuring Marian and an OC who is a future Earl! Agnes is also a huge part of this story, I love her character!

Status: unfinished

One Day

Another Gilded Age fanfic, this one is just a little snippet of Bertha's mother's life in Ireland before she married.

He Is

However cheesy you might find my Michael Gavey fic, this oneshot out cheeses it for sure. A crossover Bridgerton/HOTD fic with some Skyrim mentions, it's a timeskip to where Philomena Finch is of age and on the marriage mart. Except, she doesn't want to marry. She wants to write! Aemond also loves to write! Well, well well...and yes, the title is another Ghost song surprise surprise.

[khalenerys]

ten years after i became obsessed with the arya/gendry/hotpie plot in got/asoiaf i'm once again obsessing over kinda-minor characters in hotd and i'm gonna fucking lose it if aly blackwood is not mentioned/SEEN next episode i'm so fucking serious

[plutoarts]

this is what happened in 2.3 version's hotpie star railing's main story quest, right? idk, haven't listened to the podcast yet.

(meme inspired by THIS SPECIFIC MOMENT in game grumps episode)

REBLOGS ARE OKAY AND MORE THAN APPRECIATED!

[gendryamas]

by @mslizzieforbes

Lockwood and Co AU

After her previous employer's involvement in her best friend's ghost-locking, 19 year old Arya Stark joins the amateur ghost hunting agency ‘Baratheon and Co.’, headed by stubbornly rebellious Gendry and his reluctant friend Hot Pie. Gendry, forced to shoulder his estranged fathers name- and legacy- to keep his mothers memory alive and his agency (the new home Arya, Gendry, and Hotpie share) afloat and together. Together the 3 face the ghosts, poltergeists, spirits and hauntings of all kinds plaguing Kings Landing, and the rest of Westeros. When a dangerous assignment uncovers a grizzley crime and sheds a light on Arya’s growing and unpredictable abilities, the trio are caught up in a whirlwind of danger taking them through the secret underground of the psychic business and the dirty past it’s hiding. Dangers that might drive Arya and Gendry apart, or bring them closer together than either of them ever expected.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

There’s a lot of squads in ASOIAF, but which is the best one? Let’s find out….

[kingsmoot]

Ok, so. It's interesting and really sad to me that Tyrion - a person who has suffered sexual abuse (w Tysha, that bit where Cersei hurt him as a baby, and probably many more lesser things) - has this more complex attitude towards Sansa than most of the creepy men in her life. In that aside from consistently trying not to marry her, he also acknowledges that she's a child, a little girl, not supposed to be in this situation (considering the world of Westeros, this is... almost entirely a conclusion he came to himself, as the only other character we see thinking of a teenager this way (iirc) is Ned. Most likely the average decent people are aware of how gross pedophilia is but. You get what I mean!) He doesn't show this same attitude towards Lancel which is it's own thing but also ties into his attitude towards himself.

He's aware that she's too young for this, but the fact that he started a sexual relationship at 13 himself (alongside he desperate need to be wanted and loved, but especially wanted) makes him still... try it with her when they get married.

And the line that really hits me is, "You're a child [...] but I want you. Does that scare you, Sansa?" Which, on so many levels:

a. Gross

b. It's partially because of how Westeros sexualises kids and teens (remember Arya? The nine year old?) that he's even aware of her sexuality. She's been advertised as a sexual object by the Lannisters all day.

c. Gross, and also Tyrion is immoral as hell

d. He's never been grey in this particular direction before and that's horrible to read! Until now it's mostly been him lashing out at people (he thinks are) prejudiced against him. ADWD is coming...

e. IDK if he'd still be this sort of - we'd call it a pervert but it's not perverse in the nobility of Westeros is the horrible thing - individual if he was in a less child-eating setting, (bc that's some heavy psychological theory there) but the idea that he would, he'd just never show it, is almost more hair-raising than the more visible sliminess...

completely agree wrt tyrion's understanding of sansa as a child being unique to him. cersei and tywin both say explicitly that because she's had her first moon's blood she is a woman grown and ready to be wedded and bedded. and in general, child brides abound in westeros. it is a cultural norm to marry off girl-children. tyrion is a singular and notable exception in saying that this is wrong and he wants no part in it. tywin even expresses annoyance when he first says this because sansa is meant to be his "reward" for a job well done on the blackwater because of how her status as heir to winterfell would bolster tyrion's own inheritance as a second son.

i actually think that tyrion not showing this attitude towards lancel is a reflection of how sex in general is framed in westeros (which isn't too different from how sex is framed in real life) where it is something that can only be good for men, never bad, and is expected to be bad, painful, uncomfortable, or unwanted for women but they should be doing it anyway. i think tyrion's acceptance of lancel being crushed between the cogs of lannister sibling machination is a combination of his own traumatic sexual experience in his youth, and the culturally held belief that regardless of cersei being twice lancel's age, she is the most beautiful women in the seven kingdoms, and even if she is going to bite his head off and eat it at the end of this, he should enjoy the experience.

i also think you pointing out the fact that average people are likely aware that pedophilia is bad is a very interesting part of the series in terms of how smallfolk view the intricate depravities of their nobility. there hasn't been a lot of smallfolk perspective so far in my reread (beside arya's adventures with hotpie and gendry which lend a really good perspective but not specifically on this) but i get the sense that they aren't keen on the child marriage and dynastic incest.

i think the thing to remember is that like, we as readers can be disgusted at tyrion climbing into bed naked with sansa and telling her he wants her, because we as readers have a better perspective on this situation and haven't been raised in westeros. that's a good thing! i think that scene is definitely supposed to make us feel ill. but the important thing is that tyrion chooses not to "exercise his rights as a husband" and rape sansa in their marital bed, which is unheard of in westeros.

even cat and ned, who are like in general the golden het standard of a perfect westerosi arranged marriage, even cat describes that she was terrified of her wedding night, that she "gave her maidenhead" to a dark sullen stranger and watched him ride off to war. like it is simply not done in westeros that you would spare your wife her expected marital rape. it is what she has been preparing for all day and it is what is expected of you, her lord husband. cat even watches roslyn cry all the way through her own wedding and thinks "well of course she would be inconsolable, she must be so scared of getting raped later" (with the understanding that the crime of rape does exist in westeros and can be charged for but the definition of rape does not include the sex forced onto women and girls in their wedding beds, so cat does not think of this as rape in her mind. but i do.)

so i think in this case tyrion is grey to readers because we have the understanding that it is wrong to rape a 13 year old girl and inherit her lands and get her pregnant so that they pass into your household lineage so that the lannisters hold the west, south, and the north. but by westerosi standards he's doing some sort of baelor the blessed schtick that everyone finds annoying.