#let jon be the black bastard !!

[starry-eyer]

‘the black bastard of the wall’ moniker is the exact opposite of the ‘white wolf’ moniker and this perfectly highlights the irreconcilable differences between book Jon and show Jon

[venusbyline]

HEADCANON: Perverted Half-brother!Jon Snow

— pairing: Jon Snow x half-sister!reader

— type: smut, dark, modern AU

— tags/warnings: female!reader, dark!Jon Snow, innocent!reader, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, rape/non-con, Stark Incest (older brother/younger sister), non-con somnophilia, non-con voyeurism, dubcon underage sex, fingering, corruption kink, age gap (older man/younger woman), Jon Snow is 23-24 and Reader is 16-17, non-con nude photos, dry humping, abusive and toxic relationship, manipulation, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, gaslighting, jealousy, spanking, butt slapping, violence, dacryphilia, vaginal sex, masturbation (male receiving), sadism, dark content, Stark!reader, dom!Jon Snow, sub!reader. no use of y/n, english is not my first language.

— author's notes: Hope you guys like it 💚💚 And if you don't like this type of dark content, just keep scrolling it, it's alright!

❥ Game of Thrones masterlist • HOTD masterlist • ASOIAF headcanons

❥ about me • main masterlist

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who was away from home for a few years due to college in another city, but finally returned and became obsessed after meeting his sweet half-sister again.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who will always drive you to High School in his fancy car, letting you listen to your favorite songs, suck on some strawberry lollipops and talk about the gossips from your 11th grade.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who loves admiring you wearing your black schoolgirl mini-skirts, even though he gets jealous when the other boys at your school whistle in your direction.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who always calls you "my little sister" or "little one".

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who would act just like a good big brother in front of you, but would always take your cotton panties from your drawer and jerking off afterwards, smelling them while you aren't home.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who would definitely sneak into your room at night to see you sleeping and wearing your cute pink pajamas.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who wouldn't be content with just watching, so he would caress your covered little pussy, being very careful not to wake you up.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who would always take pictures of you when you're sleeping, pulling down your pajama shirt so he could squeeze your pretty breasts and take the pictures of his hand playing with your nipples then.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who would be quite jealous and angry when he found out that you gave your classmate a handjob, then he would lay your trembling body down on his knees, lifting your skirt and panties, spanking your ass until it was all reddish and too sore.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow who would feel kinda guilty when he saw you so hurt after the punishment. He would wipe your tears and caress your aching skin, giving little kisses on your buttocks and saying that he wouldn't tell your father anything about the other guy, but just if you were a good girl for him.

• Perverted half-brother!Jon Snow, who from that day on, would always fuck you in your bedroom, dirtying all your bedsheets and your teddy bears with his cum and your frequent squirting, or also in Ned and Catelyn's bed, having fun picturing how horrified your mother would be if she knew that her beloved and innocent daughter was loving fucking with your perverted and bastard older brother.

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

the lords in black are so interesting to me because. they’re so us. we’re watching the citizens of hatchetfield suffer for our own entertainment just as much as they are. we’re their accomplices in all of it

pokotho made hatchetfield into a musical because musicals are entertaining. and we ate that shit up! it’s soooo fun watching a little man scramble as the world around him bursts into song. the musical genre is satirized because pokey knows how the genre conventions work just as well as we do. we like watching musicals so much that black friday and npmd are musicals, too, even though they don’t revolve around pokotho’s plans as much as tgwdlm. we want them to sing. pokotho does too.

bliklotep is the audience and the audience is bliklotep. trail to oregon calls the audience “the watcher with one thousand eyes” and that’s not all, in watcher world blinky seems to be able to see through the eyes of anyone and everyone who loves spectacle. he wants to see the characters go through angst because WE love angst. it’s fun to watch alice and bill express their buried frustrations. blinky wants it to end in bloodshed because he loves tragedy, and let’s face it, so do we. it’s like that one post about how hamlet is aware of the audience and is angry that we don’t do anything to intervene because we want to see how it plays out. personally, I think blinky could have stopped the woodwards if he really wanted (he’s an elder god, after all) but alice shooting him shifted the narrative so that the emotional payoff would be more fulfilling if they escaped. and blinky loves a good story.

t’noy karaxis has blorbos. we joke about it, but that’s really what it is, isn’t it? he’s the fan who watches the movie again and again and again and again to see his favorite character’s dramatic death scene. he’s the guy who writes and reads angst fics by the hundreds because he likes to see his faves cry. he’s the hatchetfield enjoyer who’s on the edge of their seat waiting to see how ted kicks the bucket this time. the bastard’s box is pretty much just an ao3 account filled with whump and hurt no comfort. he’s sadistic AND he genuinely adores ted, because we fans are often cruelest to the characters we love the most. he puts ted through character growth— the realization that his life went the way it did because of his own mistakes, his inability to be vulnerable with jenny before it was too late— and he does that by writing a 56-chapter angst fic that’s still updating to this day

nibblenephim is the fan who voraciously devours every scrap of content that a creator produces and demands more, more, more. let’s face it, the fandom will never let starkid rest until we see this story through to its end. and then someone will demand a sequel series. nibbly is hungry because we will never stop yearning for more stories. he’s simple because that desire itself is simple— as humans, we need creativity like we need air to breathe. nibbly wants more because we want more. and we will never be satiated.

wiggog y’rath is the ruler and the king because he’s the self-inserting writer. I think jon matteson plays paul *and* wiggly for a reason— wiggly is the only lord in black to be played by the same actor in every single show, and that actor also plays the protagonist of tgwdlm. wiggly wants to be the protagonist. he tries to force himself into the human world of hatchetfield because he wants to participate, dammit! he wants to be the bestest ruler that the earth has ever seen! everyone has to love him because he’s going to be their bestest fwiend! when he appears in human form he’s gonna be the prom king! he’s the ebony dark’ness dementia raven way of the hatchetfield multiverse. he wants every human character to bend to his whims and to love him and to put him at the tippy-top of planet earth because he’s the writer and the writer’s main character, you fuckheads, and he can make whatever story he wants, whether the other characters like it or not! if you’ve ever written a self-insert story? congratulations! you’ve been wiggog y’rath.

and the funny thing? I don’t think the lords know that they, too, are as fictional as anyone else in hatchetfield. maybe blinky knows— he sees through the audience’s eyes, after all— but I don’t think the others do. if they did, maybe they’d be a little less tyrannical. a little bit nicer.

but then the starkid writers wouldn’t have much of a story to tell, would they?

[eccentricallygothic]

Depraved Night's Watch Lord Commander!Jon Snow and Arrogant Noble Woman!You…

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, dark!Jon Snow, kidnapping, kissing, groping, forced stripping, manipulation, breeding kink, bastard shaming, humiliation. MDNI. 

Note: Can/Does this qualify for Kinktober/Halloween?

. . . 

His bushy lips that are akin in their roughness to his fingers that ‘gently’ move your hair away from your back that he further exposes by pulling on the harness that had been holding your blouse together feel harsh against your soft skin. He pushes the mass of your soft strands over one of your shoulders from behind and a beastly arm is wrapped around your waist to pull your body closer to that of your captive so he can press his deranged and lewd kisses along the length of your spine, the sickening sensation causing for your body to curl in disgust.

Jon Snow is a bastard in every sense of the word. 

Having meticulously crafted the persona of the gentle warrior full of valiance, endurance and better sense, you now understand with a frightening realization that he tirelessly worked for the construction of his present circumstances for years so he could perform a flawless execution of his plan that you are living now.

Although for reasons not particularly aimed at the shallowness in his facade that you can see through now, it is now that you know that you had always been right in your unyielding contempt of him. That your intuition that there festered something dark and twisted behind those ‘innocent’ eyes of his that were black as night and thus your accordingly treatment of him was justified. 

Jon had taken your unrelenting shaming and insulting of his origin, your humiliating rejection of his proposal to you and your vehement refusals of any and all attempts at any kind of an alliance between the two of you with a smile for years so as to portray you an unruly beast-like daughter of an influential man only so he could do this. 

Your chapped lips curl in fury and disdain that you feel for the thought as well as yourself. You had always considered your skills in self defense and swordsmanship to be on par with any other lad your age. 

Only for your mind to not even process your abduction when it was underway let alone your combative learnings to come into play. 

Your body stiffens when one of his hairy paws reach for your bare breasts and you almost smack it away but your stomach lets out a painful growl and the lining of your stomach painfully retracts into your organs at that very moment almost as a signal to make you stop and reconsider your urges. Your body freezes and you let your eyes wander to the object of your humiliation and assured desecration. The sight causes for your dry mouth to salivate in a way you had been a stranger to before this.

A steaming bowl of stew with a jug of water. 

That is the deal. Jon says he will not force himself on you. No. Rather, you will willingly surrender yourself to his touch and mercy. You are to welcome his acquaintance with your intimates, thank him for it, moan for him, let yourself loose to his touch and enjoy everything he plans to do to you. 

Water for every pinch and grope.

Fire and warmth for every move and sway of your body like the whores you've shamed your whole life.

Food for every adulterous act. 

A treat for every ‘experimental’ position in the bed that is currently a heap of carelessly woven straws.

A possible improvement of living conditions for every bastard you bear him.

He can easily bring the appropriate means down in this dungeon that he has built specifically for you in the undergrounds of Castle Black to marry you and legalize as well as religiously sanction this depraved dynamic he has devised for the two of you. 

But just why would he do that when he can easily get what he wants from you whilst torturing you to live through exactly what you have shamed him for all your lives? 

. . .

MASTERLIST

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

Okay. I know the general consensus is not this, but if Catelyn had been told the truth about Jon from the get go, she would have treated him better. Relatively. Like, she wouldn't have gave him shit for being a bastard or been ice queen bitch stepmother to him, but uh. there would have been other issues. Just think about how having Catelyn aboard the hide-Jon-train would go for one second. For one second. Okay? We are talking about Catelyn fucking Stark nee Tully. And we are also talking about Catelyn fucking Stark nee Tully before the other four kids came along. Just her baby Robb and Ned and Ned's nephew. (and if you don't think that Ned saving Jon from under Robert's nose on a promise to his sister wouldn't make I-released-the- king-slayer-to-bring-back-my-daughters-Catelyn fall so hard in love with him her head is still ringing fifteen years later you are LYING to yourselves) So think mother gothel. She would have micromanaged the shit out of Jon's life and upbringing. Ned is pretty lax so as security measures go in terms of Jon, but Cat? Winterfell would get turned into FBI headquarters. Vibe checks at the door and retina scanners and Jon and Robb have a praetorian guard on their cradles. Yeah she'd be cool to Jon in public as he grows but in private she's frantically brushing his hair every night looking for whites. Holding him up to the light to check for hints of purple in his eyes. As they get older she namedrops bastard a lot but secretly actively fosters a relationship between Jon and the other kids because Catelyn-Sansa-will-be-queen-of-the-seven-kingdoms-Stark nee Tully knows about the pact of Ice and Fire and having one of the last Targs bouncing around is tickling the politician in her. That being said she institutes a book ban on Targ history and is always on Ned's ass about them playing dragons. When Arya is gets old enough she makes it a point to put her and Jon next to each other at all times. Jon getting a direwolf are goddammed holy blessing to her. When Robert's dump ass comes to visit she's having a conniption about Jon being recognized and nearly locks his ass in the crypts until he decides of his own free will to sit in the cheap seats before she blows a gasket. She hates the Wall idea because who the Fuck is going to watch this kid as well as she's been doing for the past fifteen years? WHO? If she had found out about Aemon being up there she's have blown up castle black. Jon, who has had to deal with this shit since attaining spatial awareness tries to get Benjen to let him take his night's watch vows at Winterfell's weirwood. Man wants OUT. He can't deaal with tiger mom ass no more. When he comes to visit Bran she slips and says something cryptic and weirdly affectionate and it puts his ass in a tailspin all the way to the Wall.

Like, I know people think it'd go more downhill if she knew about Jon but why? Boring. Uninspired. Booooo. Get fun with it.

[ai-manre]

The way that characters keep accusing Jon of fucking someone just because he's kind and open-minded and wants to protect people...

Sam:

Jon drew his longsword. He dared defy Ser Alliser only to a point, and he feared he was well beyond it now.

Thorne smiled. "The Bastard wishes to defend his lady love, so we shall make an exercise of it. Rat, Pimple, help our Stone Head here." Rast and Albett moved to join Halder. "Three of you ought to be sufficient to make Lady Piggy squeal. All you need do is get past the Bastard." - Jon IV, AGOT

The plan was Chett's. He was the clever one; he'd been steward to old Maester Aemon for four good years before that bastard Jon Snow had done him out so his job could be handed to his fat pig of a friend. When he killed Sam Tarly tonight, he planned to whisper, "Give my love to Lord Snow," right in his ear before he sliced Ser Piggy's throat open to let the blood come bubbling out through all those layers of suet. - Prologue, ASOS

Melisandre:

Jon could feel her heat, even through his wool and boiled leather. The sight of them arm in arm was drawing curious looks. They will be whispering in the barracks tonight. - Jon I ADWD

Alys:

"A wildling. A filthy, murdering wildling." Cregan's hands closed into fists. The gloves that covered them were leather, lined with fur to match the cloak that hung matted and stiff from his broad shoulders. His black wool surcoat was emblazoned with the white sunburst of his house. "I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. You would deliver a highborn maid to the bed of some stinking savage. Did you sample her yourself first?" - Jon X, ADWD

Satin:

Ser Malegorn stepped forward. "I will escort Her Grace to the feast. We shall not require your … steward." The way the man drew out the last word told Jon that he had been considering saying something else. Boy? Pet? Whore? - Jon X, ADWD

Val:

"Easily remedied." Florent's smile was so false that it looked painful. "Where is she, Lord Snow? Have you moved her to one of your other castles? Greyguard or the Shadow Tower? Whore's Burrow, with t'other wenches?" He leaned close. "Some say you have her tucked away for your own pleasure. It makes no matter to me, so long as she is not with child. I'll get my own sons on her. If you've broken her to saddle, well … we are both men of the world, are we not?" - Jon X, ADWD

The watch is constantly whispering and gossiping about his sexual deviant tastes because he's?? Nice and kind to people?? Irrelevant of who they are??

[writingwrongwjc]

Give Me Your Command

Jon Snow X (fem!) Reader

Disclaimers: I do not edit my writings on here, possible grammatical errors. I am new to the fandom, only seen the show (to season 5), and this IS TV Jon I know book Jon is different!

Warning: Smut!!, oral(fem receiving)

 For reasons unknown to the rest of the brother you had rode to castle black seeking refudge weeks prior. Since Gilly had already been staying there long before you, you were allowed to stay; given you’d help out with “the womens chores”. The cooking and cleaning they meant. It didn’t bother you much, although you were raised a proper Lady by a prominent family.

Before the world revealed itself so complicated you were even meant to marry the edlest Stark boy but truth be told you had eyes for his bastard brother.

On this day Jon was elected as new Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. He was proud of course but not exactly excited you could tell. Why would he be, you thought. It’s a thankless task and yet another reason the two of you couldn’t be together. You knew from the day he left for the Night’s Watch you’d have to get over your little crush on Jon Snow, but even still you heart longed for what you can’t have. Not in the light of day anyway. When the settled beneath the gleaming snow you snuck from you and Gilly’s shared quarters to his Jons keep across the way; expecting him to be curled up beneath the thick furs on his bed. When you approached the door you noticed the flickering light of candles behind the door. Standing there quietly you pressed your ear to the door to listen for voices. When only the soft crackle of the candles woven wicks could be heard, you opened the door with a quiet swiftness. Jon sat at his desk so entrenched in his work that he had not yet noticed you. You couldn't help but admire his frustrated features in the warm glow. The way his brows furrowed together without force, the way he pouted his lower lip while he thought, jaw clenched tight, and his thick mess of curls draped around his face. Twisting your thoughts deep into their darkness you imagine yourself tugging at his mess of hair, parchment scattered across the floor, ink spilling down the desk. Only for a second you thought about what it could be like to have him as yours and yours alone. 

“Seven hells Y/N… It’s late.” He said seconds after you walked in noticing your sudden presence. 

You let out a soft chuckle at his schock “Who knew the Lord Commander could be so afraid of a Lady.” 

“You only startled me! I expected you’d be sleeping my Lady”

“And I expected the same of you, Lord Commander Snow.” You say coyly.

“Well being Lord Commander is a lot of work, I haven’t got time to rest when I’ve got crows coming for the south, the southeast, the west. I’ve got to find more men, keep the ones I do have from killing eachother.” Jon spits out all at once. “Sorry you don’t wanna here all of that.”

“You’re under a ton of pressure I understand, but I don’t think anyone else is more fit for the job.”

He relaxes his gaze up at you the moment the reassurance leaves your lips, halfway searching for something else to say halfway letting himself enjoy the silence.

“There is one bad thing about it though, you really ought to take your vows seriously now? No more playing around with ‘wildling whores’.” You bring this up not so much to tease Jon about his alleged past relationship with a widling girl but to tease the other men for being so focused on it that they haven’t caught on in the slightest to you and Jon’s flirting 

He laughs at the thought, contemplating his next words carefully, not exactly sure if he should say what he's thinking. Then his face straightens itself out, his deep brown eyes filling with lust.

 “Technically, our vow is only to take no wife and bear no children.”

“What are you saying, my Lord?” you inch closer to the desk in anticipation.

“It’s Lord Commander, my Lady.” He says, standing from his chair walking around to the front side resting against the ledge and crossing his arms, looking down at you. 

“Then give your command, Lord Commander, and I shall do it.” You reach out to him resting your hands on the cool leather taught against his chest. Gliding your hands across his chest until his shoulder rest comfortably in one hand and chin in the other.

Steading his breath he looks you in your eyes, unable to utter a single word. Between your bold words and body pressed right up against his he could hardly think of a command to give. 

Instead, he crashed his lips into your own with a light grasp on the small of your back not yet working up the courage to pull your hips into his; although you could tell he desperately wanted to. With his “command” you took lead working your hands down his body as your tongues danced circles and pulling his hands onto your butt guiding him into a firm grasp. Allowing time to feel the comfort of eachothers bodies before moving further Jon took to kissing your jawline gently tilting your head upward by placing his hand loosely on the base of your neck. And then releasing you all together looking you in the eyes for reassurance and as reassurance you unlace your top sliding off your dressing gown, the thick wool and silk fabric bundling up at your feet. 

With finesse Jon slides his warm hand onto your breast taking your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging with little force. Continuing to kiss you steadily, this time more eager to take lead. Just before your lips meet again a quiet moan escapes your lips, swallowed up quickly when he locks his lips onto yours. 

“Make me yours Jon Snow.” you whisper, panting for air. He lifts you up with little effort lying you with care onto the desk, the edge just at the bend of your knees. Although, he doesn’t let your legs dangle free for long. He kisses a trail down your body lingering over your breast, sucking on your tender nipple while he grips your other breast in his hands. Continuing on down your abdomen just as quickly as his mouth arrived to your nipple, And in a haze the next thing you know his warm tongue is attached to your center. Your breath races to escape your lungs but your throat is not so eager to let it, resulting in a high pitched whine. As Jon dines on your pussy like he’s never eaten a day in his life you can’t help but to brush your fingers into his messy curls, begging for more with both your hands and your hips. You can feel it, the pressure rising. Grinding against his face with everything in you, and doing your best not to scream out. 

“Jon…just… like that.” you moan loudly, bucking your hips, gripping his hair tighter. Startled by your noise he slows down his movements for only a second. Not too long to take you back from the edge. You’re unable to hold back the noise anylonger panting, and moaning, whining out for more. 

  He come up from between your legs his lips and bead soaked in all of your juices. 

“Like honey.” he says with a soft smirk lifting you back up so youre sitting on the edge of the desk now. Bringing you in close kissing you, first on the forehead, then again on the lips and, cupping your head in his hands as he does so. Holding you close as your breathing steadies itself once again.

“I have work to do.”

“It can wait fifteen more minutes right?”

“No but I’m sure you can, that bed is quite soft. He said with with a toothy grin, nodding his head toward the bed that Ghost lay at the foot of. 

“Not a minute more, I’ll freeze to death. On your watch.”

Truthfully Jon Snow had finished his duties for the night long before you had even come in but he sat contemplating his future. So when he returned to his work he only sat at his desk worried one of his brothers may have heard your cries of pleasure. Debating on whether or not he should let himself have relese or just be satisfied in yours.

[imaginesinthewind]

Blood of my blood

Pairing: Jon Snow x f!reader

Summary: The night before the Battle of Bastards, promises are exchanged between Jon and you. Inspired by an Outlander quote from Jamie Fraser. If you recognize it, you earn a cookie.

A/N: A small fluffy Jon Snow drabble, because I can't sleep. Very tooth-rotting romantic. You are warned.

"Where were you? I looked for you, over there."

You would have recognised that voice anywhere. Raspy, soft, deep. And low.

The cold was biting your cheeks, causing them to turn more pink than usual. As the last men were exiting Jon's tent, where the last war council was held, you realised that you had been standing there for way too long, staring into the nothingness, ghosts dancing across your eyes.

You slowly turned around to face Jon. His black curls were held backwards, making him look more and more like his father; not only in looks, but also in attitude. He looked tired, and worried. But a cold determination was glowing in his gaze.

His arms slowly came to surround you, pulling you towards him and his comforting figure. And suddenly, it seemed that the ghosts you were facing silently faded away.

"You're worried," Jon noticed.

A small sigh escaped your lips, and your hands came to rest on his shoulders, playing with edges of his armour.

"I only just got you back," you whispered, avoiding his eyes. "And... I mean, if anything were to happen--"

"(Y/N)", Jon cut you off.

A callous hand lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"You don't need to worry yourself sick about me. I've been through way, way worse."

The hint of a smile danced across his features.

"I will always come back. You should know that by now. Plus, there is only one thing you need to worry about."

One of his hands softly caressed your baby bump, almost invisible to the naked eye. You had told Jon a few days ago; and now, more than ever, it was like his actions to take back Winterfell from Ramsay had some kind of undergoing urgency.

He held you closer to him, and your head came to rest on his chest. You remained there for a few seconds, content in his embrace, breathing slowly.

"Promise me," you finally whispered. "Promise me that you will come back to me."

There was a moment of silence. But then, Jon pulled you away from him. His face looked serious and soft at the same time as he looked at you; like you were the moon of his life. The one and only thing that made sense.

"I can do better than that, love."

His harsh northern accent contrasted with the softness of his voice.

You frowned, and watched in disbelief as Jon suddenly got on one knee.

"Jon," you began, but he cut you off again.

"No, (Y/N). Let me do this, once and for all."

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it. Suddenly, Jon, your childhood love, the one you had lost and found again, looked desperate.

"I don't have anything to offer you, (Y/N). I have no lands, no titles. But I know this. When I'm with you, I am no longer this commander everyone expects me to be. I am just a boy in love, all over again."

Jon stood up again, and grabbed both of your hands.

"You are the blood of my blood, bone of my bone. I gave you my body and you gave me yours, so that we could become one. So, please. If I win this, be mine. Marry me."

Your heart grew bigger in your chest, as if it was about to burst. Burst for this sweet and devoted man in front of you.

Your vision blurried, and you nearly threw yourself in his arms.

"Oh, Jon..."

You closed your eyes and held him tight.

"You are worth all of these things, and more even. I love you. Yes, I will marry you."

Ramsay Bolton would not live to see another night on this earth.

Somewhere in the dead of night, Jon made an oath to himself.

[feyhunter78]

Can’t wait for my got rewatch with this weather <3 can’t wait for Jon fic

Oooo lucky it's still warm where I'm at, but hopefully we'll get fall weather soon. Enjoy!

Chapter Nineteen - The war has ended, and you must journey home to Casterly Rock, a new future awaiting you.

King Stannis has a firm hand, and an iron will, with eyes akin to a hawk. Any semblance of grief for those pronounced traitors is frowned upon, and in your precarious position—half traitor, half honorable—you cannot risk his displeasure falling upon you, so you pretend.

You do not wear black, nor grey, nor crimson, you wear the green and pink of your mother’s house, the purple, and white of Jon’s, and you smile. Smile for the court, for the King, for Tommen, for Margaery, and in truth it was beginning to help. The pain lessening as your father swept you up into wedding plans, into tales of how Casterly Rock would change once you both had taken your rightful places within it.

Then House Stark left, taking with them Tommen and Margaery. Tommen held back his tears; Margaery smiled so brightly she outshone the sun but you? You felt the cold chill of fear, of grief creeping up, overtaking your lungs and heart until you felt half dead.

You are devoid of feeling, of light, of life, ashen and hollow as you sit staring listlessly out the window as the wheelhouse travels down The Gold Road. Your cheeks are wet with tears, tears that slip unbidden, dotting your violet skirts like stars.

Myrcella’s letter, written in a shaky hand, the tearstained ink running into the corners, lays open in your outstretched hand. How can you grieve when you have not lost what she has? Your father still lives, your standing, your reputation is intact, you will inherit the Lannister seat, and Myrcella? Sweet Myrcella is confined to Dorne, a bastard born of incest, with no standings, no prospects in the eyes of the kingdoms.

You wish to call her home, to bring her safely into the arms of her family, but it is safer in Dorne. Trystane does love her deeply, truly, and she is happy. You will not take that remaining happiness from her, even if it would soothe your wounded soul.

“Y/N, I know you are hurting, as am I, but we must put our grief aside.” Your father says softly from his seat across from you. He is dressed finely, all crimson and gold, your grandsire’s signet ring on his finger.

“Why, why must I put it aside? Nearly all who I care for have been taken from me. Uncle Jaime, Myrcella, Tommen, Margaery, Aunt Cersei, Uncle Robert, Grandsire, who next will they take? You? Jon? Will they wait until I have a babe and tear him from my arms like they did to poor Queen Elia?”

Your father leans forward in his seat, placing a hand on your knee. “The Baratheons are not the cause of our sorrow.”

You shoot him a look.

He snorts. “They are not the cause of all our sorrow, your aunt and uncle made their own choices, Myrcella is safe, Tommen is spared, Margaery is happy, and no one will take Jon or I from you.”

You shake your head, drawing your arms around yourself and holding tightly. “You cannot know that. What if the king changes his mind?”

“Then I shall leave Kevan in charge, and we will flee to Essos. Become notorious for throwing extravagant parties, or perhaps we shall meet up with the blossoming dragon queen and help her retake her throne.” He shrugs.

You shed your grief like a snake, sitting up at his words. He cannot mean… “What?”

He smiles. “Truly, you did not think I would let our blood be spilled for naught?”

Your father squeezes your knee, casting his gaze towards the window, Casterly Rock stands tall on the horizon.

You follow it, watching as the golden rays of the sun radiate out from behind it, bathing the land below in a warm glow. “I thought she was a rumor, or at the very least not a threat?”

“Varys thought otherwise, Seven rest his soul, and I have seen her with my own eyes, she will be quite formidable in the time to come.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat and picking up a sugar dusted pastry.

You lean back as well, wiping the remaining tears from your face. Daenerys Targaryen, alive, and in possession of dragons… “Thank the gods Jon is not Rhaegar’s bastard, surely she would wish to marry him and consolidate their claims.” You remark, twisting your ring, the very one Jon gave you, the only piece of his mother he had. “I do not think I would survive dragonfire.”

Your father shivers and shakes his head. “Let us not speak of such things, instead we must turn our minds towards our people. They will be confused and frightened, we must establish order swiftly and calmly.”

You nod and reach for one of the pastries as well. Food had tasted naught but ash since the executions, but as you bite into the flaky crust—the sweetness of sugar paired perfectly with the tang of rhubarb—satisfaction brings a smile to your face. A Lannister always pays their debts.

As your father sets off parading through the streets—tossing gold to the smallfolk from atop his horse—you take Jon by the hand and make your way to the Lion’s Mouth, striding forward, eyes set straight ahead as they carry the coffins of your family in as well. Your uncle will be laid to rest in the Hall of Heroes, your grandsire and aunt joining the other Lannisters of past.

“Come, we must go up several floors to reach the Lannister quarters.” You tell Jon, leading him up the winding stairs you have not climbed since you were a child.

The stairs and walls are carved from the rock, refined and draped with white marble, red rock you still cannot identify running through the center, a never-ending path. Sconces of gold sit equidistant on the walls, banners, side tables, vases, and statues, room after room decorated lavishly. You and Jon take turn after turn, as they climb up, up, up to the quarters that housed your family for generations.

“I think I shall need a map if I ever venture these halls without you.” He chuckles, eyes wide as he takes in the grandiosity of your ancestral home.

“Why would you ever go anywhere without me?” You ask, half teasing, and half afraid, clinging to him at the very thought.

Jon looks down at you. He is dashing in his finery, his dark curls neat, his beard trimmed, his sword at his side, and his eyes brimming with concern. “Y/N, I swore to you that we would never be parted, do not tell me your faith has wavered now?”

You shake your head, you will not cry, you will not cry, there are so few true lions left in the world, you cannot cry. “No, never.”

He stops and turns towards you, raising your chin with a calloused finger. “Even Queen Visenya feared attempting to take The Rock, you are safe. We are safe.”

You meet his gaze. “I know.”

“King Stannis has sound council, my uncle ensured that.” He continues, his other hand resting on the small of your back, anchoring you.

“I know.”

“Even the Red Viper will soon join them, and if he finds the king lacking, I am sure he will see the end of his reign.” He gives you a wicked smile, one that makes your stomach flip. Have you corrupted him so that the idea of regicide excites him, or is he attempting to ease your fears by making light of the situation?

“I know.” You whisper, taking hold of Jon’s doublet.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, then places his hand atop yours. “All will be well.”

You nod and bask in his presence for a moment. He has been so patient, so kind as you grieved, sitting by your bedside as you sobbed, holding you tightly as you watched Tommen and Margaery wave goodbye.

“Do you wish to show me your childhood quarters, or shall we claim our own from the multitude of empty rooms?” Jon asks, drawing you out of your memories.

“Let us see the empty rooms, there will be time enough to reminisce once my father returns.” You say, smiling as Jon pulls you towards the first open door.

It has been half a year since you sought the safety and comfort of Casterly Rock, your father taking his place as Lord Paramount and the realm settling from war. Though many have just begun to find their way back to their daily lives, it seemed none were quite too put out by being called to The Rock for your wedding.

You stand, hands clasped in Jon’s, your maiden cloak, a shimmering thing of beauty, waves of crimson, a roaring lion with emeralds for eyes, and diamond encrusted claws standing tall, uncowed by the war. Nor by the cold glare of Queen Selyse, or by the scoffs of those who still believed your family should have been stripped of its position and power.

You drown out the septon’s words, they mean little to Jon, and while they mean much in the eyes of the realm. The night prior, you, and he had snuck out to the Stone Garden and gathered beneath the weirwood tree. It was a private ceremony, a Northern ceremony performed by his uncle, his cousin Robb at his side. Your own cousin Myrcella at yours.

Jon’s voice blends with yours as you pledge your undying love, undying devotion, none shall tear you asunder. Jon had all but made these vows to you the day he became your sworn sword, though you had not known it then.

The bridal cloak that had been sent from Starfell is radiant. A shining, shooting star made of thousands of tiny diamonds that caught the light as you moved, embroidered onto rich purple cloth. Jon smiles as he clasps it around you, then without prompting captures your lips in an eager kiss.

The gathered crowd begins to murmur, your father snorts, and you can hear the septon clear his throat pointedly.

“Apologies.” Jon says, looking quite unapologetic, a roguish gleam in his eyes.

Your heart skips a beat, and a giddy giggle rises up, tampered only by the pursing of your lips as you attempt to keep the sound in.

“Lady Y/N Lannister and Lord Jon Dayne are forever bound.” The septon announces, raising his arms to the sky, before dismissing you and Jon.

Jon takes your hand and leads you down the aisle of the sept, grinning like a fool, and you fear you are doing the same.

You stop him before he bypasses the king and queen, dropping into a curtsy. “My King, My Queen, we are honored you would make the journey to witness our marriage.”

King Stannis claps Jon on the shoulder. “Do your duty well, Lord Dayne.”

Queen Selyse gives you a strange look, tilting her head in such a way it makes you feel like prey, then turns her eyes to Jon. “Yes, we would not want a repeat of the previous Lannister folly.”

Your eyes widen a fraction, but you keep your expression neutral, and reply, “My Queen, you have no need to worry, the king himself has put an end to those who acted in such a vile way, their actions will not travel downstream.” Which is far politer than I do not even have a brother, who would I cuckhold Jon with? Have the years you spent wasting away on Dragonstone made you an idiot? How dare you insult me in my home, on my wedding day.

King Stannis only nods and turns his wife away from you and Jon, looking to greet another vassal.

Jon’s grip on your hand tightens, and he leads you out of the sept towards the Great Hall.

“Do not say a word.” You urge softly, knowing what sits on the edge of his tongue. “Not until the king and queen have gone.”

Jon’s jaw is clenched, a muscle twitching, his shoulders thrown back in a defensive posture. “It was not your father who did such things.”

You glance at the surge of people following after you, heading for the banquet. “Come Husband, let us put all that unpleasantness behind us, and enjoy the feast.” You raise the volume of your voice near the end, and those around cheer in response.

You smile as you rest your chin in your hand, watching as Jon dances with Sansa, her flamekissed hair glowing in the candlelight. She laughs as Jon spins her, and soon she is replaced by Arya who promptly steps on his toes. You feel it was a purposeful act, as the young girl has grown to be quite graceful after her many lessons in waterdancing.

Across the floor is your father laughing with your Great Uncle Kevan, while your good-father steals Myrcella away from Trystane and spins her. Her pale pink dress flares out as she spins, her hands outstretched towards Trystane who snatches her back in an instant.

“Lady Lannister, do you mind if I sit?” A woman’s voice, one you are not familiar with, a slightly exotic accent, perhaps one of the Free Cities, but you could not be sure.

You look up at her, she is stunningly beautiful, with violet eyes, and light brown hair swept up with a net of gold and rubies, two strands dangling free and framing her face. “Of course, Lady…?”

“Naharis.” She supplies, gracefully taking the empty seat beside you and folding her hands in her lap.

“Lady Naharis,” you test out the name on your tongue, “is that Tyroshi?”

She nods and observes the dancers. “It is.”

“Well, then you have traveled quite far to attend a wedding.” You say, taking a small sip of your wine.

“Your father believed it would be good for me. To see the joy in Westeros.” Her eyes flit from person to person, never settling, her pale fingers tap, tap, tapping on the table.

“My father asked you to come? I was not aware he knew many Tyroshi people...” You watch her carefully; she is dressed in finery, but there is a practicality to her clothing, and a raw presence that sets you on edge. “It is odd, though, that he made no mention, I believed I knew the names of all who would be in attendance tonight.”

She turns to you, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “My apologies, I did not wish to cause you distress on such a joyous night.”

You shake your head, donning your Lannister mask and smiling radiantly. “Not at all, the more, the merrier.” Then you lean in conspiratorially. “Though if you are his new mistress, you must say so. He usually keeps them hidden from me, so he must hold you in high esteem.”

She laughs, and it is musical and entrancing, however abrupt it may be, surprise clear in her expression. “Lady y/n, I can assure you I am no such thing.” She glances back towards a particular pair of dancers, and your hackles raise. Jon, she is looking at Jon. “I am merely a friend.”

“I see.”

“He has been assisting me in my quest to reclaim my family’s seat.” She says evenly, smoothing out her skirts, a silver ring on her hand catching the light, a three-headed dragon curled possessively.

You set your goblet down and stand, your stomach churning. Did your father invite the dragon queen here? What were they planning? “You must excuse me, Lady Naharis, I do believe my husband promised me the next dance. I pray you enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

She gives you a small smile. “Thank you, Lady Lannister, I pray you do as well.”

You bow your head ever so slightly and make your way through the crowd, grabbing Jon’s arm, you had told him what your father alluded to in the wheelhouse, but that had been ages ago. Neither of you expected her to attend your wedding. “Jon, I must speak with you.”

“Y/N, come, we must speak.” Your father says, grabbing your free hand at the same time your hand reaches Jon.

You look at your father, and Jon looks at you. “Father, I do not know what you have planned, but this is my weddi—"

“Is it time for the bedding!” Some drunken fool cries out, and soon others take up the call, the crowd surging around you as you are ripped from Jon and your father.

He promised, your father promised there would not be a bedding.

You elbow the nearest man, and shove another set of hands off you, fighting against the tide. Their faces are distorted in your panic, their eyes glazed with drunkenness, their jeers growing louder and louder.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo, @legolastheleafyelf, @faerie-film, @wifiatthetrainstation, @duskypinki, @tartine-de-pain, @rebeccawinters, @taylorsfemalerage, @rax-raxus, @certainwonderlandperfection, @nymeriiiia, @burkgolden, @drewsivy

[zenithangelic]

I'd like some John Snow x fem!reader headcannons :3

Jon Snow x fem!reader headcanons:

You meet Jon Snow at Castle Black, perhaps as someone seeking refuge or delivering a message for the Night’s Watch

He’s immediately intrigued by you, though he tries to remain professional

Jon has that brooding, intense stare, and you can feel him watching you, but he always looks away quickly when caught

Jon is hesitant to let anyone close, given his duties and the danger around him, but you notice the small ways he starts opening up—offering a soft smile or asking how you’re doing

Late-night conversations by the fire become a norm, where he confides in you about his struggles, including his feelings of not belonging as a "bastard"

You share your own vulnerabilities, and it’s these moments that create a strong bond between you

Jon is fiercely protective, whether it’s shielding you from a wildling raid or stepping in when someone speaks to you disrespectfully

“You’re under my protection now,” he’d say with that intense, quiet conviction, making your heart flutter

He doesn’t realise it, but he often positions himself between you and danger instinctively

Despite his reserved nature, he has a soft side that only you see—like when he wraps his cloak around you during a cold night, his hand brushing yours just a moment too long

He’d braid your hair if you asked, though he’d grumble about it, secretly loving the excuse to be close to you

Small, stolen kisses when no one is watching. His kisses are gentle, almost reverent, like he’s afraid to break you

The moment he realises he loves you, it’s like a bolt of lightning—he can’t stop thinking about you, worrying about your safety, or longing to hear your voice

He struggles with guilt, wondering if it’s selfish to love someone while the world is so chaotic, but he can’t help himself

When he finally tells you, it’s awkward but heartfelt: “I’ve been fighting this, but... I can’t. You mean too much to me."

Jon cherishes the simplicity of just being with you—sharing meals, walking along the Wall, or watching the stars together

He loves to hear you laugh, and though he’s not the most humorous person, he’d try to tell a joke just to see your smile

If you ever surprise him with a small gift or thoughtful gesture, he’d be deeply touched, though he might not have the words to express it

Jon would sacrifice everything to keep you safe, even if it means putting himself in harm’s way

He admires your bravery and loyalty, and it inspires him to be a better leader and man

“No matter what happens, I’ll always come back to you,” he promises, and you believe him, because Jon Snow is nothing if not honourable

♡If you liked this fic, please consider buying me a coffee! Ko-fi ♡

[kitnjon]

Any Jonsa fics in which characterization and physical appearance of Jon is closer to Canon?

Hi,

I am assuming you mean closer to book canon? Honestly I haven't really read that many book jonsa fics. I am more of a show jonsa fan and mostly read modern AUs 😅

Few book fics I have read are post ADWD. Sharing them below -

1. The Wolves of Winter by JustAWhiteQuill

~When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives.~ Beneath a wall of ice, a crow died and came back a wolf. Now, he is crowned King in the North and faced with the immense task of preparing his battered kingdom for the Long Night. Atop the lonely mountain, a little bird grew fangs and came back a wolf. Now, she is the Princess of Winterfell and taking care of the only family she thinks she has left. When news reaches them of the other still being alive, a chain of events is set in motion. Winter is coming, and with it, the darkest hour of the night. The time for wolves is here. All the while, the dragons and lions south are battling for a throne covered in fire and blood.

2. I Can't Steal You (Like You Stole Me) by @thewolvescalledmehome

Seeing the only family Sansa Stark had left to her was the only motivation keeping her astride the horse. Jon Snow is at Castle Black. He’ll protect you. It had been so long since she felt safe, felt protected. She yearned for the security of familiar arms and someone who cared for her because she was Sansa and not a Stark. The nerves she may have felt over arriving at Castle Black alone to see the half-brother she had not seen—had barely thought of—in years did not consume her, nor did she allow herself to feel disappointment that it was not Robb or a trueborn brother to save her. Only, upon her arrival, she is told of the mutiny. Then she is asked an impossible question: What would she give to have him back?

Lyric title prompt on Tumblr from the song "You" by The Pretty Reckless.

3. Beasts of Seasons by Simonetta

She had prepared her words and her actions meticulously. She hadn’t prepared to actually see him. Or, Jon and Sansa reunite and things don't go according to plan, forcing Sansa to reevaluate her identity and her loyalties and forcing Jon to come back to himself. Post-ADWD, bookverse fic. Jon and Sansa reunite on campaign to win back Winterfell.

4. The Thawing of Winter by @jade-masquerade

Sansa knew Jon married her—married Alayne—for the Vale, or maybe, because of his past, he saw her as a fellow bastard and meant to raise her up the same as his people did for him, how they chose Lord Eddard’s sole surviving son as King in the North. But when she looked at him, she saw nothing of the sort in his eyes, only a flash of desire, the way a man ought to look at his wife, before he steadied his gaze. If this was truly wrong, she wondered, then why did the gods let it feel so right?

Putting this in tag so others may add in as well.

Thanks for the ask!

[marwyn]

Given the recurring theme of characters mistaking the purple eyes of undercover Targs and Blackfyres for blue, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jon has something of the Targ look but no one notices because all they see is Ned Stark’s bastard. Examples:

1. Tyrion and “Young Griff”

Like his sire, Young Griff had blue eyes, but where the father’s eyes were pale, the son’s were dark. By lamplight they turned black, and in the light of dusk they seemed purple. (ADWD, Tyrion IV)

“Or perhaps you are the Warrior in mortal guise. Let me take a closer look.” He held up his torch, so that the light washed over Young Griff’s face. “Leave off,” Griff commanded, “or you will wish you had.” The dwarf ignored him. “The blue hair makes your eyes seem blue, that's good. . . .” (ADWD, Tyrion V)

2. Dunk and Aegon “Egg” Targaryen, who has his head shaved and whom Dunk initially mistakes for a peasant

He had blue eyes, Dunk saw, very dark, almost purple. (“The Hedge Knight”)

Egg had big eyes, and somehow his shaven head made them look even larger. In the dimness of the lamplit cellar they looked black, but in better light their true color could be seen—deep and dark and purple. (“The Sworn Sword”)

3. Dunk and “John the Fiddler,” whose hair is dyed black and who turns out to be Daemon II Blackfyre

His eyes caught the deep blue of his doublet and sparkled with amusement.

A heavy silver chain looped across his chest, studded with huge, dark amethysts whose color matched his eyes.

(“The Mystery Knight”)

[low-budget-korra]

Honestly I can't understand why people who call themselves Targaryen fans and still root for the Greens. Like fr?

"but Rhaenyra sons are bastards" So? Y'all didn't buy Jon Snow be validated as a Targaryen? All of Rhaenyra sons are treated as Velaryon and they are more Targaryen than all of the Greens combined.

The Greens are Hightowers. Otto is a greedy asshole who sells his own daughter, Alicent grew envious of Rhaenyra because she lives a life she wanted(different from Alicent).Incel Cole is forever mad because Rhaenyra didn't want to run away with him, the things he did are far more dishonorable to his job than having sex with her. Aegon is a rapist trash, a coward and just the worst person to be a king. Aemond is another coward who thinks he is the best just because an old ass Vhagar lets him be her rider, can't wait for Daemon to get rid of him.

Meanwhile we have Rhaenyra as the rightful heir. Daemon as a great husband, doing everything for his queen. Jace is the fairytale hornoble prince, securing alliances that won the war for Rhaenyra and sacrifices himself to protect his younger siblings. Corlys is the brains, who also helped the blacks to win the war. Rhaenys and Baela are fierce and honorable warriors. Cregan Stark...u guys will see.

[ad-astrah]

Finally Watched Cinderella's Castle Digital Ticket (Twice) and I Gotta Get My Feelings Out Somewhere, Somehow (Part I)

Feel free to light up my DMs to chat about it!

And now, for my personal highlights/live reactions:

immediately I'm drawn in by Nick Lang's silly narrator voice and the way he warns us of what's coming. Especially the "muRrrDder!"

Jeff Blim cut his hair. JEFF BLIM CUT HIS HAIR. Not that I didn't like the long locks, but something about his Aladdin Era short hair gets me, man.

Jeff Blim literally getting to own the stage like the man was born to

Jeff Blim's slutty bard getup with the artfully messy hair and the heavy guyliner. That sinful bastard.

"Let's go." I'll follow you anyway, slutty bard.

Okay 80s rock jam! Hell yes.

idk why but I just love the line "There are tales in those walls, are they true or are they tall?"

THIS SET, THO. 80s vibes. Muppets vibes. Princess Bride vibes. Spooky, ethereal fairytale vibes. I love it! Props to the team who designed and built it.

prance, slutty bard boy, prance around that stage.

Jesus Fuck, I've only seen Joey's puppet but I'm already SOLD. Nick and Matt Lang and whoever else had a hand in making these puppets fucking OUTDID themselves! Did they use the Black Book and resurrect Jim Henson?

Throughout the show, the muppet vibes just absolutely amaze and delight me. Makes me feel like a little kid, spellbound by this fairytale. Except it's much darker, more gruesome, way more explicit, and extremely horny.

Oh look, it's Joey's Jingle/Jangle (whichever elf he was) voice from Black Friday.

Love me some o' dat non-binary representation from Ragweed. Starkid once again screaming GAY RIGHTS bitches.

I'm getting some of Jeff's Aragog from AVPS in this Narrator. Anyone else?

Stupid STUPID butcher!

Jon Matteson's accent. *giggles madly*

Angela IMMEDIATELY having to pause for applause before she finishes her first freaking line. The queen deserves it all, though.

The foreshadowing of the Stepmother cutting off Ella's feet. O_O

"It's furryyyyy and fouuuuul and full o' maGOTTTSSaaaaaggghhhh!"

Angela doing the little spinny finger thing in a guy's face to fluster them just like Max did to her character in Nerdy Prudes. I love these physical running gags. My fave being the Smoke Club, though.

OIIIINK oinkoinkoinkoinkoinkoink

Sir Preston asking for help from the audience. His "ELLAaaaaa....nooooo....."

The lighting in this entire show is SO COOL.

Again, Jeff just louging like a whore about the set like its his bitch. I live for it.

James' COSTUME. He looks SO FUCKING GOOD. Props to the costume folks...and to James' rockin' genes.

"But nothing compares to the juice and the hairs..." Oh no. Ohhhhh no I see where this is going. Don't say it, James, don't-- omg he said it.

er ee er ee er ee *window rolling down*

I thought the Prince drawing bewbies on the frosty window was funny already, and then he goes WAH WAH WAH and pretends to pinch them and I fucking lost it.

The Prince checkin' out DAT AZZZZZZ XD

"I'd wager she's wetter now than when I first found her bobbing in the river." OH MY GOD. PRINCE. THAT'S HER NOT-MOM.

If his highness has had every STD and beaten it, that's so fucked up but also damn, that boy's immune system is killin' it. Literally.

"Poor mad EllaAH"

"This is one thirsty FUCKING house." For real, omg.

"The offer stands firm. Come calling if you are!" *screams*

Jeff miming being crew and pulling the ropes for the curtains.

*audience member sneezes* "Bless you."

Angela's diction is next fucking level. PUNY. PINK. KIND.

The epic troll reveal! The puppets are SO GOOD.

THE FROG FUCKING TURNING AWAY AS SHE ASKED FOR IT TO DO SO SHE COULD KILL IT. CHRIST.

This bayou boogie song of Ella's is an absolute KILLER BOP. Holy shit. And it's SO perfect for Bryce's funky, sassy voice.

Speaking of which, BRYCE'S VOCALS. I'm gonna scream about them for forever and ever and ever. I love her voice SO FUCKING MUCH. I could listen to nothing else for the rest of my days and die a happy little gay.

"ohhhh woah woah waohhh" *flips the bird* She's such a queen for that.

"It needs oregano" WORK BITCH

Bryce's stage presence is fucking INSANE. I dunno how she's not on Broadway, but thank goodness we got her!

SIRE MANY TADPOLES!

GOD I love this absolutely depraved, horny little bastard of a prince.

It's amazing Tadeus hasn't murdered the prince yet. The man deserves a medal for the literal shit he's put up with.

Bugette?! I thought you choked on shit died and were consumed by the Hive Queen?

Rancilda being a typical troll and loving lurking under bridges and telling riddles.

Schuyler Sister vibes from the song with Justine and Lucy. So cute.

Justine and Lucy are SUCH real ones for IMMEDIATELY believing Ella about her family being trolls and for saying "fuck the ball, we're leaving NOW."

Shake dat ass, Mariah!

Lauren's physical comedy as Rancilda is NEXT LEVEL. I'm wheezing over here!

iSNn'tT it A BiiIItTcH?!

I LOOK GOOD IN THIS. What an absolute fucking BANGER. This song is gonna play in my head on repeat for the next decade. What a next level villain song.

Also this gives me some strongass Joan Jett vibes. "I love wearin' the skin of dead girls rock 'n' roll!"

and I hEEeaARr yoU'Re RiiiCCHhH

Seriously, is this the next Top Chart breakup revenge song? It should be.

"I really LIKE that song!" XD Putrice. I love how much of an absolute BIMBO she is.

Rancilda singing the song again. "SHUT UP STUPID BITCH, THE SONG'S OVER." "Okaaaaiiii"

Matt Dahan's ability to riff off the main songs and create motifs is otherworldly.

General MacNamara? Is that you?! Oh wait, nope. Still my slutty, slutty bard.

I LOOOOOOOVE this badass electric guitar intro, holy shit.

Kim Whalen, the queen, getting the bitchin' entrance she deserves.

Starkid is so, so good at their sound design to help immerse you in a scene without blowing a big budget or doing anything elaborate.

...Kim. My girl. Your arms must be tired.

She's just standing there, but Kim's stage presence is still so strong.

I can't get over how Jon's Sir Hops-A-Lot's voice is just a small...ahem. Hop, skip, and a jump away from Wiggly's.

JOEY. THAT ACCENT. You ABSOLUTE genius idiot. I love you for this stupidass voice.

Joey's bowl cut makes me giggle like mad.

I love these two puppets SO much.

GIT IT, KIM.

The call and response bit with Ella and the Goddess reminds me of Hamilton when Washington is dictating his Farewell Address. I know it's gotta be in other musicals, too, but that's the clearest comparison for this nerd at the moment.

Jeff sneaking in the "castle on a hill" song reference in this song.

Kim and Bryce dueting together is just Power incarnate. Holy cow. It's so good.

"You shall be as radiant and terrible as I." Ooooooh. Yes. Gimme.

The Narrator sneaking out from amidst the ensemble to finish off the song was really neat.

That fading spotlight before curtain for intermission with just Ella's face in view is so beautiful and haunting. What an epic close to Act I.

Also, it seems like this was also a strategic way to imply Ella's outfit being transformed there on stage during the song without actually having to do the tricky costume designing quick-change theater miracles of an ACTUAL outfit transformation. Which is really brilliant. Leave the audience to wonder until post-intermission about what Ella's starlight dress will look like.

[queen-of-andor]

Usually I write about Jon's good points as a leader, so today I decided to write about some small mistakes he makes in ADWD JON I. Martin is a great writer because the first time you read Jon's chapter you pay no attention to those little flaws. It's only after knowing how his ADWD arc ends that you realise that the writer had planted the seeds for night watch betraying Jon even since the first pov chapter of his.

Jon doesn't act as the typical Lord Commander. He sleeps in the forge instead of the room of the previous Lord Commander and he rejects having a bodyguard following him.

We get to see Jon's thoughts in his pov, so his actions make sense to us. However, his black brothers don't have the same luxury as us, so for some of them, Jon is a green boy who wasn't ready to become commander.

It doesn't help that Jon simply ignores the southern lords who insult him by calling him "boy". We know that Jon doesn't want to show off and therefore he finds pointless to spar with ser Godry when the latter provokes him, but letting the knight insult him in front of his men without reacting doesn't do him any favors.

And it makes sense why Jon out of all people would tolerate such behavior in his castle. Because he wasn't born with the class privilege to expect that one day he would lead and order others. He was born with the bastard stigma and all his life he tolerated being insulted because of it.

With that being said, I need to state here that I do believe that Jon is doing a good job being elected as the Lord Commander during probably the most difficult era in Night's Watch history. But I also believe that Martin made Jon's ( and Dany's) ADWD arc about ruling so they could learn how to be effective leaders. No one is born ready to rule, no matter how great leadership qualities they may possess ( and Jon and Dany do have great leadership skills). So, I think it's very clever of Martin to also show his shortcomings as a teenage leader because once he'll return to a position of power in the next book(s), he will have both experience and knowledge from past mistakes to do better.

[aelenavelaryon]

Hey guys! This story will have three or four parts. Or at least I’m hoping it will. Also, please bear with me as I recently started posting here so things are still new to me. I’m not quite sure on how to use tumblr to post yet so it might take a while! Thank you! 🤍

Robert Baratheon x Reader

Summary: In which history repeats itself once again. Or does it?

Robert had known young Rhaenyra all his life and they were sort of friends and some would even say they were somewhat close. When he sat on the Iron Throne she was the only one brought out, Jon Arryn saw it fit for the eldest of the Targaryen's to be the one to confront Robert. There she stood, in the middle of the room. All the lords eyes were on her. She said nothing, what could she say? "Your brother is dead" was the first thing Robert said to her. "I killed him. I wish I could kill him again" Rhaenyra's eyes filled with tears but none fell out. She didn't want to cry. She wouldn't allow them that satisfaction.

"What will happen to us?" she asked. "To Viserys, to Jaehaerys" everyone turned to her as he said the other name. "Who is Jaehaerys?" Jon asked. "He is my son. My son with Brandon Stark" Brandon lived but he was now married to Catelyn. "He is married to Catelyn Tully now" Robert said and she nodded. "I know" she replied. "The boy is a bastard" Tywin said and she glared at the man. "Kill her now. Avoid another rebellion" Tywin Lannister said and everyone turned to look at him. "I know you would like that, my lord. Did you enjoy having Elia and her children murdered as well?" she asked. "Lannisters. They have always been traitors. That has not changed in the past two hundred years it seems" he took a step but Ned Stark stood near her.

"Princess Rhaenyra is not at fault for her brother's sins. She is innocent" he spoke for her. "She's a whore! She and that bastard son of hers will bring nothing but trouble to the realm just as her brother has!" Tywin said. Ser Arthur, pulled out his sword as did Ned. "Hold your tongue, Lannister" was all Ser Arthur said. "Mind your tongue, Lannister" Robert stood in front of her. Rhaenyra was known as the Realm's Angel. or the Realm's Desire. Some even called her the Realm's Delight, referring at the nickname the realm gave the black queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, her ancestor.

"I propose a marriage between King Robert Baratheon and princess Rhaenyra Targaryen" Jon said making both Robert and Rhaenyra to look at him. "She's a child" Arthur said. "A child who bore a healthy son" Tywin scoffed. "She's been sullied. She cannot marry a king" he stated. "Robert has bed at least half of Westeros. It will not matter. Let's remember that House Velaryon, House Tyrell, and House Martell still support house Targaryen. This will ensure the peace in the realm. Specially after the chaos that this rebellion imposed on the realm" Robert looked at Rhaenyra. She was a child. She was seven years younger than him. She nodded. She did not object. She hoped that as the queen she could keep her son and brother safe.

It wasn't long before she was married off. The princess did not complain, she did not fight, she obeyed. They got married on the Great Sept. Brandon arrived with his family. With his wife and their son. Their legitimate son. It was said that Brandon loved her, he married Catelyn Tully for duty. He married her so her father could be on their side when the war was just beginning. He loved Rhaenyra as some said she loved him. But, the world will never know if she loved him as much as he did her. That was another secret she would take to her grave.

She sat with her husband as he drank himself numb. Robert didn't love her, she was sure he never would but he cared for her. When she arrived to her new chambers she found a box, inside laid three eggs. One was a black with red. The other was red with gold, and the other one was a blue and white color. Robert arrived a while later. The two did her their duty as quick as possible, Robert tried to be gentle but Rhaenyra was a woman of passion and asked for more and he complied. Perhaps it would not be so bad.

Princess Rhaenyra gave birth nine moons later to a son. A son who she named Daemon Baratheon Targaryen. Daemon was all his mother but the eyes. He held Rhaegar Targaryen's eyes. A year after him came Orys Baratheon, now that one was a Baratheon through and through. There was no ounce of Rhaenyra on him. Prince Aemon came two years later along with Aemond who were the spitting image of his mother. Robert used to laugh when he spoke to Rhaenyra about their sons as the boys all resemble her but not him aside from Orys.

Robert loved Jaehaerys as his own son, he had taken him and Viserys as his wards. He began to teach them how to fight. When the princess decided to visit Dragonstone a tragedy struck her. She had miscarried. The Maester had told her she had been poisoned. To bury her child, she had pyre made for the cremation and her dragon eggs were set inside alongside the babe. Her child had died but she left her mother with the greatest gift she could ask for. Dragons. Three of them. The eldest she called Balerion as the dragon was the spitting image of the black dread. The other she named Caraxes as the dragon was the same color and it seemed he too would look like the first blood wyrm. The third she named Syrax as he had been just like queen Rhaenyra's dragon. When she returned she returned with three dragons on her shoulder. House Targaryen would prevail.